#c. my kind of woman ( visage )

[unofficialadamtaurus]

I am chronically unable to keep fics to myself so enjoy this thing that's been on my mind since I reread an old ask

Adam knows oblivion. He didn’t used to; for twenty-three years of life, it was a concept and nothing more.

By its very nature it is unknowable until he is, at once and without warning, exhumed from it. Sensation crashes through his spinning mind: the ground under his boots, the weight and feel of his clothes, the air rushing into his lungs when he pulls in a reflexive breath.

His remaining senses wash over him in the aftershock of abrupt existence: the oily scents of industry and garbage; the clash of steel and shouted cries; and his sight. White at first, it clears to permit him a view of the fight reaching his ears.

He’s in a warehouse. Some kind of shipping hub, judging by the towering shelves full of boxes and stacked pallets. On, around, and between those shelves are swarms of people dueling in the deep shadows. Faunus. White Fang, by their clothes. Brightly dressed figures occupy the centers of the chaos.

He’s been aware and taking all of this in for a mere second before he’s moving. It’s not his own will that guides him, not really. It’s an urge. A need. He has to protect the one behind him. He has to.

And so he watches in horror as his blade carves through every White Fang member in his path. The first few don’t even move. They’re staring at him as he’s staring at them, all of them struck dumb.

What he sees of himself explains their reactions as much as his violence does: his limbs and weapons are icy white and blue, trailing frost like smoke.

He tries to stop but his body is a machine that bucks his control. Corpses fall around him. The faunus are shouting now, screaming his name, except they’re not targeting him except to slow him down. They’re trying to get to the one behind him—

They cannot do that.

He moves faster. His face is carved into a snarl but it’s the visage of a beast with its leg in a trap. He can’t escape whatever has a hold on him. He can’t let them get to her. He wants to but he can’t.

He wants to close his eyes. Apologize. Order the ones who haven't already run to get away from him, from whatever puppets him. He wants to and he can’t. There’s a wall between his will and his flesh. He’s a tool. A weapon. Nothing more.

Blood stains his blade, his hands, his face. The few Fang remaining have thrown down their weapons. Held up their hands. Fallen to their knees.

Back away, he begs himself. He steps closer.

Sheath your sword, he pleads. He raises it.

“STOP!”

He freezes. The boy he’d nearly decapitated—a teenager, no older than sixteen—looks up at him in abject fear. There’s blood on his face too, the blood of all his friends Adam had just killed.

It’s silent, or nearly so. The woman who’d cried for him to stop is gasping. She sinks to her knees with an audible thunk of flesh on concrete.

“How?” someone he can’t see whispers. His skin crawls; he knows that voice.

“Weiss?” Another voice, less familiar.

“Who is that?” A third voice, younger than the other two.

All the speakers are behind him. All he sees are the four kids trembling at his feet. Not so long ago he would’ve relished their fear as a sign of his growing power. Now, it makes his stomach churn.

Blood still drips from his sword. He tries to lower it. He tries to sheath it. He tries to tell them to run. It all, again, fails. He digs ragged mental fingers into that wall.

The gasps behind him turn to disbelieving sobs. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—not him! I-I couldn’t—“

“Breathe,” the third speaker advises. “Just breathe.”

He endures another round of unsteady sobs briefly interrupted by attempts at steady breathing. The wall between him and his body cracks under his mental assault; his fingers twitch. The faunus flinch.

“I-I don’t know what happened. They’re always difficult to c-control at first but,” she hiccuped, “this was different. It—he—wouldn’t listen. I wasn’t even trying to summon him!”

The wall shakes. He gains control of his face.

“Run,” he mouths at the faunus. They stare. Glance at each other. And then scramble to their feet and away, leaving their weapons behind in their fear.

“What—“

“Hey!”

Adam spins and levels his sword at the red-cloaked girl trying to run after them. She goes still with wide silver eyes that fix on his.

“Weiss?” she asks.

“I can’t dispel him, Ruby. I’m trying!”

Dispel. Dispel him? He tightens his grip on this ghostly version of Wilt.

“Are your summons…sentient?”

“N-no. Not really. I mean, they’ve all been Grimm until—until now.”

When Ruby next speaks, the question is directed at him: “Who are you?”

His weapon dips. Past her, he sees the blonde whose arm he severed so long ago. He sees Blake. And he finally sees the one controlling him. White hair, white skin, white clothes. Revulsion rips through him, revulsion so deep it obliterates the wall’s remains and slams barefaced into the howling need to protect the Schnee.

[echantedtoon]

Waning Obsession(Yandere Kokushibo x Reader) Ch11 A Demon Over All

(Warnings: Mentioned killing, yandere themes, Koku having a panic attack, etc.

Apologies for short chapter. Will be more in Kokushibo's pov.)

The first scream rang into the air. 

Terror. Fear. Danger. Get away. Get away! All the emotions scream. Like an accident, terrible yet one couldn't look away from the incoming storm of tragedy. He was so used to such actions as he came with the reputation. The woman who continued to shriek in his hands meant nothing to him. She was merely just an obstacle. An annoying hindrance to what he wanted-..No.

What he N E E D E D.

And he always dealt away with obstacles. The old body was easily chuckled to the side, he not caring about where it landed or how the other ended up. Screaming. A true testimony to his being. Power. Force behind it and he knew that as screams filled out his eardrums and killed him into the comfortable lullaby of chaos incarnate. Arms rising and head tilted back in display for the passionate dance of bodies scattering blurred to his vision footfalls thundering like a rain dance of nature. A true place a demon would find peace. Eyelids fluttered shut as the sounds blurred out around him until he heard nothing. Saw nothing. Felt nothing. But-

P E A C E

A shaking breath exhaled. Arms lowering head lulled back comfortably.

B L I S S

Eyelids slowly opened. The sky was beautiful. Greying clouds opening up to scattered light that shines on the temporary eternal numbness he felt. Is this what Yoriichi felt when he looked at the sky? Peace and beauty and light? If yes then for once he finally understood what he saw in the sun. It was beautiful...But despite this peaceful bliss it was nothing like that happiness that the moon would shower him in. The mother of the night bringing him quiet and sparing his person from the presence of others who wish to hurt him. Akeno was his mother but the Moon was his guardian. It was what guided him to now. To his happiness and he would thank her every night for gifting him this feeling until his dying breath. For guiding him to her. To his- Head lulled back more twisting around at unnatural angles until the visage of beauty stared back to him. 

L O V E

Body turned and eyes opened full. An arm extended. 'Join me.'  It said. 'Come here and embrace. Join me in the world I hail. You were meant to be mine. I am all that you need. You are all that I need. Let us transcend this plain of existence and carve our destiny in blood. You cut open my soul and yet came back to bandage it while leaving it to bleed out and fill his heart.'

"You killed them."

A knife entered his heart. Reality shattered around his carefully held up foundation. Hands  squeezing down and around his heart and threatening to tear away all he had ever come to have and hold dear. A visage of anger, disbelief, betrayal, fear, sorrow, shock, confusion- All at once the face held- No-

"You lied to me."

No, no, no-

"You tricked me. What have you done?"

PLEASE GODS NO!!

"Get away from me!"

Shaking. A happiness so powerful yet a fear so wrong settled in where calmness did not. Worlds collided. Hell rejecting his still tender heart while heaven rebuked his tainted soul, living his torn numbed body in some sickened joked limbo. Pathetic. Denial. Denials all his life. 

'You will never get anything you desire.' Fate taunted him pulling his by the strings of fate like the pathetic puppet he was. 'Your father sees you as his only choice for an heir and you're only useful to him for your strength. Your mother barely knows her own son. Your brother is the only one people love since he isn't hideous like you. Your own kind rejects you while everyone else will always fear you. Even the ones who care about you most will eventually come to see the demon over all.'

...N-No...

'Yes.'

N-No...

'Yes.'

N O

'YES! ALWAYS AND FOREVER YES!'

"NO"

Claws dug into fabric. Knees hit ground. Desperation. Formed between agony and pain.  

F E A R

"Don't leave me!"

Worlds collided and evaporated. Taking all rational thoughts with it.  Please clouding judgement, pride be damned.

"Youcantleavemeyoucantleavemeyoucantleaveme!! Please I beg of you do not leave me! I can't lose you!"

Lungs burnt in panic beyond comprehension. He couldn't think clearly. He felt like he was burning in a fire while also frozen so numb in ice he lost all feeling.

"I have nothing else. I don't want to lose this. I can't lose you! PLEASE! You're the only good thing I've ever felt!"

She was the only thing he could love. He didn't want to lose the light that had finally shined into his heart.

"I only wanted you safe! I swear...I'm sorry. Imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry! Forgive me. Please don't leave me!"

Please don't leave him. Please don't leave him like so many others had before.

"I LOVE YOU! I love you, I love you, I love you so much you don't understand!"

Don't reject him. Please accept him for him. Please don't abandon him.

"I want you. ONLY YOU! I've never felt this way before in my entire existence! I want to be by your side as your husband! I want to raise children with you! I want to be with you until time collapses!"

He wanted to marry her! To lay beside her as they grew old together. Watching as their children grew. He wanted that. A family. He never realized that he wanted one so much until he met someone he could be vulnerable with. 

"Please. Anything...Just don't leave me alone."

Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. The demon wept for the second time ever since he was a babe in his mother's arms. The weight of how he looked now did not matter. The fabric clutched in his hands and buried into his face would be enough for shielding for now. 

"Kokushibo.....Get up."

He couldn't! Hecouldnthecouldnthecouldnt- He did not want to see the rejection. The disgust. The anger.

"If you don't someone might come kill you."

A fate he didn't care about in this moment.

".....Please."  A gentle touch to his shivering pathetic head. "Let's go. Alright? I don't want you to get hurt."

"I don't want to lose you to them. The- they'll kill you because..."

Because of YOU. YOUR CURSED BIRTH.

"Then I'll go with you. Alright? But you must move."

"...Thank you."

[lucygraysboy]

billy  can  feel  the  tips  of  his  ears  grow  warmer  and  ends  up  averting  his  gaze,  a  strange  warmth  flooding  his  entire  body,  part  shame,  part  confusion.  it’s  nothing  to  be  particularly  proud  of,  but  never  before  had  he  met  a  woman  like  lucy  gray.  when  he  was  a  teenager  and  all  the  other  boys  his  age  were  chasing  after  girls,  he  was  working  all  day  to  help  his  mother  out  and  make  ends  meet  —  he  didn’t  have  time  for  romance.  but  then  everyone  he’d  ever  loved  passed  away,  and  jesse  introduced  him  to  a  different  kind  of  life.  he  prides  himself  in  being  a  gentleman,  the  kind  of  person  who  makes  women  around  him  feel  safe,  and  so  as  silly  as  it  feels  to  admit,  he  has  never  actually  thought  of  what  he  would  and  wouldn’t  appreciate.  “oh,  no…  you’re  right.  i  wouldn’t  have  appreciated  that,  but…”  he  shrugs  sheepishly,  wondering  if  being  asleep  falls  under  the  same  category  as  unconscious.  alice  had  done  that  quite  a  few  times,  woken  him  up  with  kisses  and  touches,  he  just  never  let  her  know  how  awkward  that  made  him  feel.  “yeah,  it  serves  many  different  purposes.  some  people  use  it  to  stop  their  doors  from  creaking.  guess  it  heals  lips  and  faces  and  hooves  and  even  hinges,”  he  muses  with  a  soft  laugh,  his  pale  blue  eyes  returning  shyly  to  lucy  gray’s  delicate  visage.  her  skin  seems  to  be  glowing,  her  eyelashes  remind  him  of  wings  of  a  butterfly,  so  long  and  elegant,  and  she  smells  so  sugary  sweet…  it  makes  him  even  more  aware  of  how  he’s  the  polar  opposite  now  —  dirty  and  stinky,  covered  in  blisters  and  scratches.    

“i’d  love  to,  lucy  gray.  i  just…”  he  trails  off  because  it’s  a  thing  that’s  rather  embarrassing  for  any  man  to  admit.  his  mind  has  recovered  rather  quickly,  but  his  legs  and  feet  are  a  different  story.  he  can  feel  them  pulsing  and  aching  even  now,  his  muscles  weak  and  quivering  from  time  to  time.  he  doesn’t  even  want  to  imagine  how  painful  walking  will  be  today.  “i  don’t  feel  all  that  good  yet.”  and  so  who  will  even  carry  buckets  of  water  for  his  bath?  and  as  embarrassing  as  it  is,  he  doesn’t  think  he  has  the  strength  to  move  around  and  scrub  himself.  “umm…”  he  pauses  briefly,  trying  to  figure  out  what  to  tell  her,  but  it’s  not  in  his  nature  to  lie.  besides,  his  mind  is  too  tired  to  come  up  with  a  fake  but  believable  story.  “new  mexico.  i  had  a  horse,  but  it  got  stolen  one  night.”  she  hasn’t  really  asked  why  he’d  decided  to  make  this  journey  in  the  first  place  and  so  he  doesn’t  dive  into  explanations,  relieved.  “cardinals  and  hummingbirds  and  bluejays  are  all  very  beautiful  and  unique.  have  you  ever  spotted  the  more  common  ones?  a  robin?  or  a  grackle?  my  brother  always  called  grackles  crows,  but  i  don’t  think  they’re  related  to  one  another.”  he  thinks  out  loud,  glancing  out  the  window  as  though  to  see  if  maybe  a  bird  was  there,  watching  them.  and  it  must  be  his  lucky  day!  “lucy  gray,  look,  look,”  he  softly  murmurs,  motioning  for  the  window,  his  body  tensing  up  as  there  is  a  small  birdie  sitting  on  the  the  sill  —  a  sparrow,  he  thinks,  most  people  would  say  nothing  special,  but  billy’s  fond  of  all  creatures.

“the  smell  of  these  rolls  alone  could  bring  to  life  any  dead  man,”  he  says  with  a  chuckle,  his  smile  only  continuing  to  grow  when  she  doesn’t  openly  oppose  to  taking  the  last  roll.  he  still  got  a  half  of  his  own  in  the  palm  of  his  right  hand  and  decides  to  take  another  bite.  “food  always  tastes  better  when  you  can  share  it  with  another  person.”  it’s  the  conclusion  he’d  come  to  while  alone  on  the  run.  people  really  take  companionship  of  another  human  being  for  granted.  “alright,  i  hold  this  end,”  he  repeats,  mostly  to  himself,  and  takes  ahold  of  the  string  that  she’s  handing  him.  even  his  fingertips  are  more  clumsy  than  hers,  but  he  pinches  the  thread  between  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  holding  on  tight.  pale  blue  eyes  watching  with  fascination  as  blue  and  green  beads  begin  to  slide  down  the  thread,  one  after  another.  “a  rainbow?  like  your  quilt?  i  should  have  figured  it  out,  but  that’s  cheating,  lucy  gray.  you  can’t  pick  all  of  them.”  he  laughs,  shaking  his  head.  “did  you  make  it  yourself,  too?  the  quilt.  it’s  very  beautiful.”  it’s  so  soft  to  touch,  too.  he  could  tell  when  he  was  putting  those  bracelets  back  on  the  bed.  it  must  be  the  softest  quilt  in  the  universe.  “can  you  add  a  purple  bead  in  the  middle?  would  this  work?”  he  questions  shyly  as  clearly  she’s  the  expert  here.  “i’d  like  to  honor  the  angel  to  whom  i  owe  my  life.”  he  blushes  at  that,  but  doesn’t  move,  afraid  to  drop  the  thread  or  distract  her.  it’s  so  mesmerizing,  watching  this  beautiful  piece  come  together,  seeing  the  genuine  happiness  on  lucy  gray’s  face. 

"no, it's just– i'm just sure you wouldn't appreciated me slobberin' all over you while you're unconscious and sick. does other people you meet go doin' that or somethin'?" because she was completely perplexed why he thought she'd ever have any ideas of kissing him, a complete stranger, while lying on her floor half alive. is that was boys did? just go kissing anybody? or was it something she didn't know about? maybe it was girls too, who knew. her mind was circling for the answers on how to make sense of it. he goes from mind-boggling her to mind-boggling her in another way...this information about horses that only her mother would've else known. her head tilts, a way of showing she's engaged with what he's saying. he sounded intelligent and she had a great appreciation for insightful people. "that's a smart way to protect their feet from the weather. it seems to protect and heal a lot, doesn't it?" smile lifts her rosy features, noticing he has very pretty eyes now that she's next to him and they're awake and alive unlike earlier. but what kind of thoughts were those? she wasn't supposed to be having a boy in her room, her house and especially sitting here finding handsome features on him.

"yes, a bath. you're gonna need one soon." maybe she should feel a little embarrassed insisting that, but she wasn't an ounce ashamed. stern like a mother, like her own mother was to her when it came to her wellbeing. hygiene was important to one's health too, he needed one to get rid of all the dirt off his skin and so she can smooth in some lotion and jelly into clean skin. "unfortunately not. i guess it got left behind somewhere along the way. where did you even come from anyway?" that was her biggest question, how did he end up here in such awful shape? "well, that'll be a little hard to choose... cardinals, hummingbirds, bluejays." some of her top ones for their colors but finches sung adorably so. "right here in my room or out there in the field, where i found you." she answers, thinking how she was even listening to them then.

"i'm sure, i'm just glad to see your appetite growin'. that's a good sign." even though she'll pick up the last one and take a small bite to satisfy him, plus she is getting a little hungry again. "yes it is, i was feelin' white, yellow and blue today with my outfit and these beads." she softly laughs, focusing on picking out green and blue beads to place on her skirt. "you hold this end for me." she lifts the end of one side of the string, holding it up to him for him to take hold of so she can pinch the other end between her fingers and start sliding a green bead on then blue then green then blue. "oh, definitely. green and blue is a great choice." she encouragingly pepped while focusing on each bead she was slipping onto the string. "my favorite color is the rainbow." so she gets to cheat and say all of them, cause more color the better. "but i really love purple, pink and yellow." bright, positive, happy colors were just something she attracted was to since she was a baby.

[loveearned]

eleanor throughout the years : things are d i f f e r e n t now !

[fieryheartsbeating]

𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗛𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗦 !

                                          𝗂'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴,

                                                                                   𝗂'𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙎 !

[lalunanymph]

⤏ dominion 

summary. lust, longing, love—all of that was unattainable for a man who lived in the shadows of his own sin. that was until you brought to him a fleeting taste of heaven. now, mikey would stop at nothing to keep you by his side… no matter the consequences.

pairing. mikey x fem!reader, a hades & persephone retelling

cw. forced engagement, mentions of murder, mention of a funeral, mentions of gun wounds, injuries, tension, allusions to torture, blood, gore, alcohol, sexual tension, language, smoking, jealousy, slut-shaming, rape/non-con elements, fingering, cunnilingus, explicit sex, exhibitionism, tattoos, murder (many people get shot in this fic), motorbike sex, praise, degradation, voyeurism, nipple play, breeding kink, unprotected sex, orgasm control, orgasm denial, c*mming untouched, squirting, foreplay, choking, blowjobs, deepthroating, light bondage, sex toys (vibrators + nipple clamps), cum play, aftercare, betrayal, angst, near-death experiences, mentions of pregnancy, fight scenes, anal, gangbang, spit kink, double penetration, cowgirl position, face down position, mentions of non-con recording, possessive behavior

wc. 28k+

a/n. it's here—this monster of a fic that has haunted my thoughts since it was conceived. thank you all for your patience and kind encouraging words! without them, i wouldn't have managed to pull through <3 the next part will be posted soon! 

part 1 ┆part 2┆彡 playlist

The wisteria blooms were close to dying.

Gathered in acrylic vases that probably cost more than a kidney on the black market, those flowers were in dire need of a good pruning, browning at the petals and contrasting with the antiseptic luxury oozing from every pore of this grandiose room. In the corner, a grand piano that was positioned in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows were being played by skillful fingers; the lulling tinkling of the keys unable to fully smother the nervous current of energy drifting between bodies that were forced to be within close proximity all for the sake of a treaty that was drawn up even before you had been born.

The dress your mother insisted you wore for tonight was nothing but a wispy swathe of silk around your frame. Your cheeks and lips were rouged a dark red, making you seem years older and mature than your usual carefree disposition whenever you caught snatches of your reflection in the many mirrors Ami Imaushi decorated the penthouse suite your father had left in her name the day his body was buried six deep under; a bullet wound perforating his brain skilfully patched up by the mortician so his final wish of having an open-casket funeral could be fulfilled.

You had seen these people once; passing visages you barely paid attention to, the tears dribbling down your cheeks blurring you to the truth of your father’s dark past. Wakasa’s death was as murky to you as the life he lived prior to his decision to go clean and marry your mother; eventually starting a family and adopting you from a nearby orphanage. But tonight, you were reminded once more how little you actually knew of the man who had raised you before his untimely death.

Every important man and woman from your father’s old gang, Black Dragon, had appeared to mar these walls you called your home, under the guise of hospitality your mother extended to them for an agenda you were not privy to. Forced smiles, small talk, and uneasy glances filled the evening, saturating it with the falsity of cubic zirconia attempting to pass itself off as a pure-blood diamond.

Someone bumped into your shoulder and grunted. You gave the scarred man with tattoos inked down his defined biceps a friendly if not terrified grimace of apology. Behind you, Ami called your name, bringing you close to her and gesturing for you to enter the living room. The majority of the old gang members had made themselves comfortable in the neutral space, gorging on the expensive food and liquor your mother had painstakingly conjured up for tonight’s last-minute affair.

Right in the front, holding court with his unmatched charisma, was Kisaki Tetta. Part of the new legion of delinquents that had trained under your father’s and uncle Shin’s tutelage, he quickly rose up the ranks and became the youngest commander of his unit to eventually the head of an entire organized syndicate. With his streaked blonde hair and calculating gaze, the word was Kisaki could sniff out opportunity like a rat; using his unparalleled intelligence to bring the ashes of this old gang back to its former glory, second only to another gang shrouded in mystery—Bonten.

Growing up, you had been forbidden from going alone downtown where it was rumored to be under Bonten’s reign, the two gangs constantly at war with each other since your father and uncle Shin’s reign. But, you never did have to worry about that rule.

From being home-schooled to having only the best food cooked in your home, you had been rigorously sheltered by your mother and father since the day you walked into their household.

“There she is.”

Kisaki’s booming voice knocked you from your reverie and you glanced at your mother who ushered you to move forward. Tentatively, you took dainty steps towards him, feeling every eye in the room on you. From your young age till your teenage years, you had only ever seen Kisaki twice—once in passing during a meeting your father hosted in this penthouse and another at his wake. But, it was enough.

There was speculation that your father’s death had not been a fatal accident during a botched mission—evident from yelling voices that were heard in the study before Kisaki and his second, Hanma Shuji, stormed out of your home and slammed the door shut. That was the last time anyone ever saw Imaushi Wakasa alive.

In your mind, Kisaki’s presence during the funeral felt like a slap to your face, especially when he kept the details of your father’s death veiled in mystery no matter how many times your mother pressed him on it.

Despite having spoken less than fifty words to him, he guided you closer to him with his palm on your lower back and you had to fight off the urge to shake off his grasp. One hand around your waist and another holding a flute of champagne, he cleared his throat. Immediately, the chattering ceased and all attention was on him.

“Thank you all for your presence here today—it warms my heart to see every Black Dragon reunited under one roof, safe and well.” A smattering of applause and Kisaki bowed his head. Raising it, he touched his gaze to the crowd, and you suddenly felt like the spotlight had been trained on you. “But, there is another auspicious reason why I inquired of the lovely Imaushis to host this gathering.”

It was not in your imagination; the faces of about thirty members shifted towards your pallid one, and the unease that had been stirring in your gut seemed to traverse down your spine, stilling your heart.

“For in a matter of a few weeks, our gang will be united once more through the power of our founding generation and the vitality of our new legions. Brothers and sisters, it is my pleasure and great honor to announce that as of today, Imaushi Y/N and I are both engaged.”

Engaged.

Engaged.

Engaged.

What the absolute fuck?

You sought out your mother through the crowd, gaze wide and unblinking, all the blood leaving your face. She did not stop him; did not retract his statement but clapped along with the other members, nothing but pride shining on her genial features.

In that instance, you thought you had died.

There was no possibility of even a chance that your mother had agreed to this union; she had always been adamant on you not marrying anyone from the gang, so why had she turned around to backstab you with this sudden switch in her principles?

The members were swarming around you, offering you and Kisaki—your new fiancé—hearty congratulations. The man in question did not even glance at you, grinning wide as if he had struck the lottery, accepting the well-wishes with an almost smug tint in his tone.

You nearly stumbled on the hem of your dress when he relinquished you to a group of women, but a hand steadied your elbow. Ami swam into your vision and she hissed into your ear. “Do not faint now, Y/N.”

Once, you had taught your mother the most beautiful woman you had ever seen; with her fall of dark hair, piercing grey eyes, and delicate features, she and your father would turn heads wherever they went. Even the bright orange of her velvet dress did not detract from her charm, the color complimenting her tones and smile that did not touch her eyes.

You shook your head. “M’… M’fine.”

“Hold your head up,” she muttered steadily. “We are in the presence of the whole gang; do not ruin your father’s name.”

Away from prying ears, you gritted through a perfectly crafted, fake grin. “Why? Why did you do this without telling me?”

Ami’s reply was simple. “You are to marry him—that is the final order your father gave me.”

Your father… he was the one who allowed this? It was not true. It could not be.

You could sense the boiling anger and fear coalescing in the middle of your chest, aching to be released in the form of an unadulterated scream.

Engaged… Kisaki…

You could not do it.

You could not agree to marry a man who you suspected had a hand in your father’s death.

When you were a girl, Wakasa would often take you to the nearby park for a jog. Under his watchful gaze, you would both train your stamina and speed, until one day, you surpassed him, running faster than he ever could. His laughter chimed in your ear, disbelief and pride bubbling from his chest in a loud whoop, his blonde hair whipping in the wind, almost a halo from the setting sun behind his broad back. You had thought that he was the strongest man in the world when he lifted you onto his shoulders, your girlish giggles mingling with his raspy chuckles.

That’s my girl.

Wakasa had taught you many things—how to breathe steadily while you did laps, what to rehydrate yourself with after every workout, how to fish, how to hold a gun… but he had never, ever taught you how to fight. There’s no need to do that, he had grinned at you with that lazy and confident smile. Papa will always be here to protect you.

He had broken his promise. He wasn’t here to defend you, especially when Kisaki slithered closer, gripping your hips possessively, gluing you to his side while he spoke of strategic matters your ringing ears could not fathom.

Wakasa’s voice—soft, lilting, and always in a drawl echoed loudly in your memories, his last advice departed to you before he had entered the study room for his fatal meeting.

Sometimes, to survive, you have to know when to fight… and when to run.

You froze, not sensing how Kisaki was now tracing his fingers down your face, pushing a stray lock of your hair from your cheek.

Run, Y/N.

“I need to… use the ladies,” you had uttered softly. Kisaki stopped mid-conversation to give you a look of faux empathy.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Forcing a smile to bloom across your cheeks, you nodded. “I am fine. I just need to powder my nose.”

The moment his grip loosened around you, you spun on your heel and darted to the little bathroom where you could be alone with your thoughts. One deep inhale and long exhale—over and over again until you were able to breathe without hyperventilating.

Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you forced yourself to steady your gaze, to take in the pallor of your cheeks, the sweat lining your brow. You were going to be sick.

A sharp rap on the door made you flinch and you stilled.

“Miss Y/N?”

Thank god, your soul sang, and you pried it open to find your nanny with her expression as drawn as yours. Mrs. Aoki’s lips were pulled into a frown, one so severe that you had never seen in your entire life, not even when she had once chastised you for running away in the middle of the night to watch a meteor shower on the condominium’s rooftop. Even then, all she had done was berate you, but she never looked this devastated, this depleted.

“My dear, you’re shaking. I heard what happened earlier; are you alright?”

Flinging yourself into her arms, you swallowed a sob, burying your face in her neck. Like a mother, she rubbed your back, soothing your racking frame.

“I d-don’t want to marry him,” you gasped, shaking your head, dislodging a few stray tears that were absorbed by her pristine blouse. “Please—help me.”

You didn’t have to look to sense she was pursing her lips. For one split second, you had feared that she would send you back to Ami, back to Kisaki and your shining chance of leaving this dreaded marriage behind would be extinguished like your hopes.

But, she did nothing of that sort. Grasping your shoulders tightly, she forced you to look into her lined face. “Follow me.”

At her urging, you let her take your hand and pull you down the narrow hall; the penthouse was huge and when she reached the kitchens, she opened the door of the dumbwaiter lift and shoved you inside. Panic stole your lungs, and you flashed her a look of pure fear, but she reached out to touch your cheek, cupping it protectively.

“When you reach the second level, take the door on the left, and you will find yourself in the emergency stairwell. Then, run. As fast as you can. As fast as your father taught you how to.”

Run, Y/N.

You nodded and she closed the door with a resolute click. The gears cranked and the lift descended, bringing you along with it. After what seemed like minutes filled with nothing but the sound of creaking pulleys and your laboured breathing, the dumbwaiter came to a halt. Peeling your ears, you could hear nothing from the other side and cautiously swung the door open. The kitchen was dark and empty, every staff member stationed upstairs to help out with the party. You gathered your dress, wincing when your heels clattered on the marble floor as you navigate your way to the furthest door, flinging it open and finding yourself in an echoing stairwell.

As fast as your feet could carry you, you flew down the concrete steps, down twenty floors, and by the end of it, you were sweating, your toes all but numb from the pressure of your heels. Unbuckling it, you tossed the damn stilettos aside and continued on bare feet, wincing when your feet touched the road. This was the furthest you had ever been from your home unaccompanied, and the night sky seemed to yawn ahead, a starless witness to your pending freedom.

I need to move. One step, two, three, and you were walking past the compound, into the streets, right into the traffic, and down the cold pavement. The chill didn’t bother you—you suspected it was because you were made of only pure adrenaline at this moment.

You had to run.

There was no other option.

Betrayal tastes like the cold steel of a blade drawn to your throat and you pick up your pace, the soles of your feet sore from dashing away in nothing but your flimsy dress around your frame. A flash of pain erupted under your soles and you gritted out a cry; you hadn’t looked properly from the lack of light and your panic, stepping into shards of glass from a broken window.

There was no time to ruminate on your wellbeing. You continued to run.

Ami’s voice filled your head, the resounding words of her giving you up to Kisaki Tetta of all people jarring you back into reality—one where you could sense figures chasing after from the shadows. You are to marry him—that is the final order your father gave me.

One quick glance over your shoulder and your hunch were proven correct. Kisaki’s men, dressed head to toe in black, had melted from the shadows, blatantly putting up a chase; tearing through the wintry night with you in their sights, and they would stop at nothing until you were returned to their leader.

I can’t let them take me.

What did you expect?

Kisaki was ruthless—that was how he conquered every position and shot straight to the top of one of Japan’s most notorious gangs.

He wasn’t going to give you up without a fight.

To falter now was to surrender yourself to the man who had brought your family ruin; who had made you fatherless and left you with no option but to navigate your way through the underground world equipped with fake, sunny smiles and seething resentment bottled in your chest. Wakasa Imaushi never wanted this for his daughter and you were damned if you let your mother’s heinous words tarnish his memory.

Every gulp of air was piercing your lungs like tiny knives, and a stitch was forming at your side but you pushed yourself to keep going.

In the distance, the city lights shone like a mirage and you desperately wondered what you would find once you crossed over the boundary into the darkness beyond.

A safe house? Respite? Or more trouble?

You don’t get to ruminate on it long. A sedan swerved right in front of you, impending your escape. You stuttered to a stop, gasping out loud in fear when the door opened.

This is it.

This was how you were to meet your demise.

Every cell in your body screamed at you to run in the opposite direction, but you were trapped between two alleys and the promise of being dragged back, kicking and screaming to Kisaki.

Within the darkness, a halo of blonde hair emerged from the back of the passenger seat, and onyx eyes darker than shadows regarded you with passive interest. A man you had never seen before who apparently knew your name.

“Imaushi Y/N?”

You barely have time to retort, a man’s scream of there she is pinning you right to the spot. The door opened wider and you could just make out that he was dressed all in black, similarly to the men that were giving you chase as if you were an errant pet on the loose.

“If you want to live, I suggest you follow me.”

You don’t think twice. Barraging into the car, the door slammed shut and tires squealed on the asphalt, knocking you back into this strange man’s arms. He steadied you, and you didn’t get a chance to ask him how the hell he knew your name; a ragged cloth was pressed to your face, his grip unyielding.

“Just breathe for me,” his voice soothed into your ear and the smell of sweet fumes invaded your sinuses. Your body immediately grew heavy, eyes sinking close, and the last thing you heard was his breathing, a soft, “there you go,” whispered into your hair before the darkness dragged you under its unrelenting depths.

“… sure about this?”

“… it would mean war… are we ready…?”

“—suggesting… I’m wrong?”

Your eyes fluttered open, the fake fluorescent lights above seeming to warp the faces of the men hovering over you. Fear spiked through your consciousness and you gasped, sitting up only to find your arms bound to the bed.

A man with a silver fall of hair gives you a grin, his snake-like eyes glinting with mirth. “She’s awake, boss.”

“Leave us.”

Chest rising and falling with your quickening breaths, you watched from your prone position on the bed as six men shuffled out of the room, leaving you alone with the fair-haired one; eyeing you surreptitiously, he stood from his seat on the sofa by the ceiling-to-floor windows to stride over to you.

He leaned close and you flinched when his sharp scent of spice and citrus pierced your nose, your senses on hyperdrive. You were in a room that was painted in neutral tones, upon a king-sized bed that was soft as a cloud but you felt no comfort. A chandelier dripped from the ceiling, its fragmented light bouncing across his inscrutable mien.

Before you could react, yell for help, or curse him out, he reached for your bindings, untying them to let them slither onto the mattress. “Apologies for this—my men don’t trust easily.”

Another beat of silence. “I don’t trust easily.”

Your voice was scratchy when you uttered, “Who are you?”

“I will be the one asking the questions,” he said, and though his tone was even, it was wrapped with authority. You shrank back from him, eyes flashing.

“Is your name Imaushi Y/N?”

Vocal cords stolen from the depths of your throat, you could only nod.

“Are you 25 years old?”

Another nod.

“And you’re engaged to Kisaki Tetta?”

At the name of the man your mother had all but sold you to and the stark memory of the sickening smile on his face when he claimed that you were his soon-to-be bride flashed in your mind, and you were too late to suppress the shudder that wracked through your entire body.

The strange man didn’t have to prod any further. He had his answer.

Instead of inundating you with more questions, he extended a hand. “Come. I’ve had a bath prepared for you.” Eyeing your torn dress and the lacerations on your feet, he frowned. “Can you stand?”

You tried to place your feet on the ground, but even the slightest pressure sent stabbing pain up your soles. A cry was wrested from your throat and you staggered back onto the bed, memories of the glass cutting through the tender skin of your feet flashing in your mind. “I-I—“

One second you were sitting on the bed, and the next, you were in his arms. The man lifted you like you weighed next to nothing, bringing you into the confines of his sturdy hold. You yelped, breath stuttering when you almost slipped out of his grasp; your arms locking around his neck as you shot him a look of pure rage.

“Put me down!”

Ignoring your incensed request, he marched towards the bathroom, kicking the door open and plopping you into the wide, porcelain bathtub. Under the suffused light, you could make out the design of a dragon twinning around his neck and another geometrical one on the back of it. Those tattoos signified nothing to you, his very presence a blank slate. Pointedly, you stared at him and he took your cue, turning around to give you privacy.

But before he left, he uttered something in his low, and appealing voice.

“You do not look like your father.”

Figuring out that he was waiting for your response, you dropped your gaze, drawing your wounded limbs close to your chest. The cool of the porcelain seeped into your thin dress and goosebumps formed on your arms; his eyes never left your hunched shoulders.

“I am not his biological daughter.” The admission rolled from your tongue with an ease you had not expected. Growing up, many would poke fun at the fact that you did not resemble your parents and it was a thorn in your heart especially when all you wanted was to find a place to belong. “My mother could not conceive and they adopted me.”

Instead of sneering or pulling on faux sympathy, all he did was turn his face to the side so half of his visage was in your periphery.

“You have his fire.”

The silver-haired man left you with those words and you blinked, contemplating where exactly you were—and in another small fragment of your mind—who he was. A mosaic window overlooking the city made its way into your attention, and you tenderly stood up from the tub, leaning on the walls to support your torn feet to peek down at the scenery unfolding like a patchwork fever dream.

What you could gather was that you were not even remotely near home; this was not Black Dragon territory and you were flung far from the city centre, right into the heart of lower downtown.

The shadow realm.

Bonten’s territory.

Grasping onto your chest, you steadied your breathing. This was no time to start forming a plan; this was time to survive. You stripped your tattered dress from your trembling frame, setting it down on the marble counter; your face was drawn and pale, hair sticking out in stray strands. You looked like a woman who had been chased to the ends of the earth—and in a way, that was true.

The warm water was a reprieve from the horrors of this night, colour returning back into your cheeks. There was only a towel to protect your modesty and when you exited the bathroom, you zeroed in on a soft cotton dress waiting for you atop the bed. It was a little too big on your frame but you slipped it on, the hem falling to your knees, grateful for the minute comforts you could still glean even in such a foreign environment.

A knock on the door roused you from your reverie and you pried it open to find that same silver-haired man from earlier. He eyed you up and down, a curl in his lip at the sight of your lacerated feet.

“Come here,” he said and jutted his chin towards the bed. You were frozen until he sighed impatiently. “I’m not here to hurt you, Imaushi. I am here to tend to your wounds.”

Gingerly, you took mincing steps to the bed and sank down onto the bed as he withdrew a first aid kit from a nearby drawer, rummaging through it to remove a roll of bandages and antiseptic. His touch was gentle if not firm when he took your feet and rested it in his lap.

You figured to pierce through the tense silence with a meek question. “What is your name?”

“Kokonoi,” the man muttered, lifting the roll to his mouth and tearing off a strip with his teeth. Thankfully, there were no glass shards embedded in your skin, though you hissed when the pressure of the gauze wrapped around your wounds.

“You have caused us much trouble, Y/N,” Kokonoi said, glancing at you with those flashing, sharp eyes.

Lowering yours, you inhaled deeply, no thoughts surfacing that were doused in regret. You did not grieve running away from your mother or Kisaki; it was done in survival and no one could fault a living, breathing human for placing their self-preservation over the matters of duty and family. For the longest seconds, no words were traded between you and the unknown man. Once or twice you felt his gaze touch the side of your face, but you did not look deeper into it, drawn and sullen as you were.

Despite the unfamiliarity and the uprooting of all you once knew into a home so dissimilar to your own, you conserved your curiosity, flickering your eyes around the space instead to replace the questions you sensed were not in his authority to answer.

“Our boss wants to have dinner with you tonight,” Kokonoi mentioned after he had dressed your injuries. “The maids will be bringing in a dress for you. Look sharp; dinner will be in half an hour.”

You did not retort, staring at your covered feet with trepidation rising in ominous waves. The room fell into a pressing silence when the door slipped close and his words came into fruition when a timid knock jarred you to the present. A mousy-haired woman entered, bearing a simple blue dress that was about your size. She did not say much, helping you to your feet and removing your sleep gown. Your underwear was still intact—thank heavens for that—and you got dressed in abject silence. One swift bow from her and you were led down the halls, the bandages giving cushion to your abrasions, the carpet flooring soft enough to muffle your steps.

You followed her down dimly lit hallways, past gilded paintings and statues that reminded you of stepping foot into a history museum, through a narrow doorway, and towards a long table where a lone figure dressed all in black sat. He stood, nodding to her and relieving her of your presence. Striding over to you, his touch was light on your back, barely there when he directed you to the seat opposite his.

About one foot separated the both of you and you positioned yourself upon the soft leather chair, staring at the fare before you. Bowls of soup, garnishes and slices of meat of every array were devoured by your hungry eyes. He noticed your ravenous stare and exhaled a soft laugh.

“You can begin eating.”

Flickering your uncertain eyes to him, there was nothing that detracted from his welcoming statement and you drew a bowl of rice closer to you. Spooning a slice of chicken and umeboshi, you brought it into your mouth and chewed almost thoughtfully. The silver-haired man mimicked your movements, though he did not eat, preferring to pick apart your expressions rather than the bony fish in front of him.

“You knew my dad?” Your soft question stole his attention back to the present and he deliberated before answering.

“He was a close friend of my brother.”

… Brother?

Sensing the question you had on the tip of your tongue, he exhaled a short laugh. “Do not pretend that I am not familiar.” The slope of his features, right down to his dark eyes tickled a memory in the recesses of your mind and it struck you who he started to resemble. You’ve seen a similar face like this on a man who taught you how to ride a bicycle along with your father; who always teased you for your love of chocolate ice cream; who would visit bearing sweets and a jovial smile.

“You’re uncle Shin’s brother?”  His name was a distant cry, but in this instance, it came to you in a flash. You had heard it uttered under low tones in your home, in between late night calls your father used to attend to; always in a manner that was terse as it was confidential. “Sano Manjiro.”

But he was a myth; Shinichiro’s wayward brother—the black sheep of the family lost to the murky underbelly of the criminal world—had not been seen for almost 12 years.

“No one has called me that in years.” There was a lilt of sadness in his tone that dissipated as soon as he recalled you were still in the same room as him. In response to your questioning look, he sighed, “Manjiro, I mean. I go by Mikey now.”

You bobbed your head, acknowledging his instruction. “It is nice to meet you, Mikey-san.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “As it is nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“I am downtown,” you uttered, the implication behind your observation swiftly picked up by his trained ears.

“Kisaki and his men are not allowed in my domain,” he intoned, a true master of his dominion. “He would be violating the treaty if he stepped foot here.” In a softer voice, he uttered, “You are safe.”

Safe. Safe.

Here you were with the ghost from your father’s past and he reassured you that you had nothing to fear in his home. The persistent caution chiming in your head with the voice of your mother reminded you that this was the furthest thing from a sanctuary.

Your uncle Manjiro is a wild card, Ami’s drawn scowl flitted in your mind. There was a reason your father didn’t trust him.

It came back to you in a flash.

“Who is this?” At your question, your mother stopped flipping through the photo album, a sad smile playing across her lips. It was a picture of your father, uncle and an unknown man grinning into the camera. Wakasa’s signature sleepy smirk contrasted with Shinichiro’s bright beam. Beside them, there was a young man of a slighter build, dressed in a white t-shirt and patterned trench coat that hung from his shoulders. But, that was all you could make out of him. Thumbing the cigarette burn where a man’s face was once imposed on image, all she did was heave a solemn sigh.

“This was the man that killed your uncle Shinichiro.”

Something in your expression must have given him pause. One second, you were seated, and the next, you staggered to your feet, ignoring the bite of pain shooting up your nerves and your hunger that had quickly dissipated.

“Y/N—”

“You killed my uncle Shin.”

At your words, a shadow flitted across his face. He followed your actions, standing up and touching his tongue to the side of his mouth to bide his time for an answer.

“That is not the truth.”

Swallowing hard, you stepped back. Every muscle in your body was screaming at you to escape, the tiredness that weighed your limbs down forgotten from the spike of anxiety in your system, your chest rising and falling in heaving gasps that could’ve passed for suppressed sobs.

What you knew of the man before you was hearsays and dubious whispers: he had killed his brother, he had formed a gang so formidable it rivalled Black Dragon in everything but its numbers; he had once fought off fifty men all on his own and won. His tattoos seemed to bleed into your consciousness and you could not stave off the nausea coating the back of your throat.

In a cruel twist of fate, you had ran away from an arranged marriage to a man who held the key to your father’s death, only to find yourself in the abode of another man who was purported to have murdered your uncle in cold blood, leaving his lifeless body on the floor of his motorcycle repair shop.

His own brother.

You were not afforded the luxury of time to think.

Tearing out of the kitchen and down the halls, you ran as if you were chased by a ghoul; frantically whipping your head back and forth until you noticed the wide doors that opened into a hall beyond where three elevators stood, a shining beacon to your freedom.

There was no destination you had in mind, no plan.

All you knew was that if you didn’t get out, you would find yourself in the same fate as your uncle and father.

Another body rammed itself into yours and you cried out, jarring onto the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and pink hair. The other man’s grip was strong and he pinned you to the ground, holding you hostage.

“Let me go!” your bellows seemed to reach the high ceilings. A scarred face flashed in your sights and you shrunk away in fear, attempting to kick him off but all you succeeded in doing was eliciting a grunt from him. He did not budge.

Over the din, Mikey’s voice spoke out, clear and low. “Release her, Haruchiyo.”

As if it was a figment of your imagination, the weight was taken off you and you scrambled to your feet, your dress ripped at the seams. Holding the fabric together, you were a sight; six men staring you down and the seventh blocking your exit with his bigger build.

Mikey’s frown carved its way in your periphery and you had no choice but to let him take you back into his home, down those dimly-lit halls and past statues depicting headless nymphs and stern gods. You shrunk back from his touch, but he made no comment on it, taking you back into your room and depositing you there like you were an escaped fugitive.

“Why am I here?”

The door was almost closed on his retreating figure; he paused and you saw him turn his head, giving you a view of half his face in the light and the other drenched in shadows. “Because you were the one that got in the car first.”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” you spat, and his nostrils flared infinitesimally.

“I did,” he retorted, calm in the contrast to your red-faced anger. “And you chose me. If you embrace the darkness, you have to suffer the repercussions.”

He left you that night and you could not sleep, his words tossing and turning in your mind like your restless body. To an extent, what he said was true. You had made your choice to run from your old life and accept the great unknown. Whether it was done out of desperation or a dark impulse that ran deeper, there was no denying that you were far from home and right in the middle of a chaos unfurling, one whose consequences you had no idea which direction it would take.

Fuck my life, you moaned inwardly right before your breathing evened out. What did I get myself into?

“Where is she?” Kisaki roared, slamming his palms onto the desk, disconcerting rattling echoing around the space. 

The question was met with silence. One second, you were in hot pursuit, and the next, an unknown sedan had whisked you off, seemingly into thin air.  The blood of their fallen comrade who was the designated bearer of bad news seeped into every man’s expensive leather loafers, none so the blood that soaked their leader’s hands and flecked across his cheeks, giving him an undeniably feral comportment. “Find her and bring her back to me before I put a bullet down each of your throats.”

His men scattered like roaches faced with the light, cowering from his anger.

All except one.

Golden eyes raised in half-mast from his empty whiskey glass and he sighed loudly. “Kisaki-san, you’ll give yourself a migraine if you keep up with this.”

Whirling around to face his subordinate, Kisaki almost whipped out his Glock to wipe off the smug smile on his face before it sank in who had voiced out his opinion. He chose to lift his eyes to the ceilings, exhaling loudly.

It was all going so well—the deal was clear.

Marry Imaushi’s brat, get her portion of the upper city and inheritance, then use it to finally stake his claim in lower downtown where his men could go toe-to-toe with Bonten’s forces.

So, where did it all go wrong?

“Make yourself useful for once, Shuji, and get your ass up.”

The end of the tunnel to his lifelong mission shimmered like an unattainable dream, and there was nothing he hated more than a wrench in his well-thought out plans.

The lanky, six-foot-five man got to his feet, a lazy grin masking his unease. He had never seen his boss this antsy, and it was perfectly clear why. Kisaki had a brilliant mind—terrifyingly intelligent, he was always one step ahead of the game. The fact that you had eluded him and disappeared from the court altogether was disconcerting as it was impressive.

Once Kisaki had someone in his web, it was hard for them to escape.

But, you had done so, and now, his golden ace to power was missing from his arsenal.

If Hanma didn’t despise your family with every fibre of his being, he would have commended you. “I’ll find her,” he offered and Kisaki grunted, turning his roiling gaze to the outside world beyond the tall windows.

“Make sure you do.”

“Have I ever failed you, boss?” Shuji meant that as a rhetorical question. He did not expect Kisaki to snort and pin him in place with those electrifying dark eyes.

“You better not, Hanma. Not this time. The girl is too vital to our plans to let her out of our hands.”

How many days have you spent in this room?

How many hours did you look up at the ceiling, counting the fragments of light bouncing off the chandelier while you whittled away into the nothingness of your own thoughts.

The answer: far too many hours and days.

Mikey had not made his presence known to you, keeping out of your hair as you stayed away from him. In some regard, you enjoyed the peace and quiet, knowing you had a chance to recuperate and just think. The wounds on your feet were starting to heal nicely, and it didn’t hurt anymore to walk. Every five hours, a maid would bring in food without saying a word, and you reciprocated the energy.

Despite your self-isolation, the door remained open for you if you wished to explore the roomy penthouse, but you held steadfastly to your anger.

There was no way you would fraternise with a man who was a renowned brother-killer, not even if he would entice you with the promise of all the answers to your questions. It was the third day when curiosity got the better of you and you fiddled with the doorknob. Every soul in this house had long gone to sleep, the clock hand pushing near two in the morning.

You reasoned that it would be safe to step out for a little bit and stretch your legs instead of lying around listlessly.

The halls were quiet, your bare feet barely rustling, the hem of your nightgown creating silent rushes in your wake. You peeked your head past empty rooms, no light in this space switched on beyond one closed door. Cautiously, you ambled over to it. Murmuring voices could be heard beyond the thin wood, and you tentatively pressed your ear to the frame.

“… this is beyond reason—"

You recognized Kokonoi’s voice.

“Can we trust her? How do we know she is not Kisaki’s whore and he sent her here to gather intel?”

“Because she would rather cut her feet on glass than go back to him.” Mikey. You leaned in closer to hear better. “And that says a lot more about a person’s will to survive than to return to what might kill them.”

A snort. “Why did she even make an escape anyway? S’not like Kisaki would harm her.” It was someone else’s voice you didn’t recognize; low, deep, and brazen.

“I agree,” another voice, this time lazy and spoken almost in a drawl. “Unless his dick game wasn’t good. Can’t blame her if she wanted to end that marriage even before it even began.”

“Do not talk about our leverage like that,” Mikey’s voice again, this time laced with cold demand.

Someone else spoke up, his tone edged with malice and holding a maniacal quality. “One million yen that she’s a fucking prude, that’s why Kisaki—”

A loud shot echoed in the room and you stumbled back, tripping on your feet. In your haste to steady yourself, your palms swung out to center your balance against the door and it fell open, your body tumbling along with it. Glancing up, you found the same seven men staring down at you, every Glock drawn on your trembling figure.

You squeaked and raised your hands, cursing your lapse in stability for bringing you into this situation.

“Well, well,” the pink-haired man with the maniacal tone you recognized as Haruchiyo drawled. “Got ourselves a little rat who was eavesdropping, huh?”

“Sorry!” you gasped out, your breathing coming to a halt when you realized that they were not withdrawing their guns. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That is Wakasa’s daughter.”

At the mention of your father, every barrel lowered instantaneously, echoing clicks of safety triggers switching back on. Mikey strode over to you, formidable in an all-black ensemble with a midnight-blue coat hanging from his shoulders. He extended a hand and you brushed it away, forcing yourself to get up on your wobbly two feet.

The scene before you was baffling. There was a man who was tied down to a chair, a duct-tape gag over his mouth, and wild eyes who were pleading at you for help. Behind him, a bullet hole was still sizzling in the wall and you clapped your gaze on all seven men who were gauging your reactions. You gripped the door frame for support, suddenly feeling faint.

Memories of muffled screams behind bolted doors echoed from your past, and you could almost smell the tinny scent of blood under copious amounts of bleach. Despite how much your father wanted to protect you from the shadows of his world, it leaked through his carefully constructed façade that gave you a glimpse of the sort of man he truly was.

The scene was nauseatingly familiar, and your eyes widened when you caught sight of the blood leaking from his deformed fingers. His nails had been ripped out from its bed.

A man with a huge scar on his face that ran down his useless eye noticed how you were quickly turning pale. “Uh-oh, boss, she’s—”

You never got to hear the rest of his words.

Your knees gave out and you hit the floor, falling unconscious for the second time in this short week.

A white light hanging overhead was spinning lazily through your blurry gaze like a muted sun.

Your eyes fluttered open and you groaned, your body dully aching. Someone sighed beside you and you turned your heavy gaze to him, finding the same scarred man from before giving you a look of quiet consternation.

The memory of how you ended up here flashed through your mind and you bolted up from the mattress, nearly hitting your head into someone who was leering down at you. The other man had dark streaks in the sleek coif of his purple hair and he tutted at your sudden movement.

“Watch it, princess, you—”

His words faded into the back of your mind when you jumped up from the bed, fuelled purely by adrenaline as you threw the door of this makeshift hospital room open, tearing down the halls and straight to the entrance where you recognized the elevators would be standing. This time, you had taken them completely off-guard, yells clamouring behind you and heavy footfalls eating up your every step. The front door was also mercifully unlocked and you nearly pried it off the hinges in your rush to escape.

There was a persistent buzzing in your mind, and you could barely make out left from right. But, every survival instinct instilled into you the day you had entered the underbelly of this world was screaming at you to not stop moving. Discarding the idea of using the elevator, you found the emergency stairwell and threw yourself down the blank hole, your speed and smaller body an advantage over their heavier frames as they lumbered after you.

“—Koko, get the exit—”

You glanced out at the small window to find a layout of a garden on this floor, and as quietly as you could, you pried the door open, stumbling into the half-darkness of twilight. Maybe you could hide here and bide your time. It was a stupid idea, but you were beyond desperate and had no choice.

The garden would have been a lovely sight if you weren’t literally trying to escape a horde of murderers, and you ambled towards a slowly tinkling fountain, finding a small alcove to hide in. Closing your eyes, you attempted to steady your heavy breathing. The voices did not touch you and you thought yourself to be safe…

… Until a gloved hand shot out through the dark and grabbed your shoulder, pulling you into the steel cage of his arms.

Your scream was muffled by his other hand, onyx eyes flashing in warning.

“Quiet.”

You struggled in his grip, and would have bitten his palm if the leather didn’t impede your efforts. A sob was wrenched from you, and Mikey recognized your spirit slowly breaking. Something like pity flashed across his usually stoic mien and he sighed.

“If I lift my hand off your mouth and release you, will you promise to stop running?” You glared at him, and he narrowed his eyes at your retaliation.

“Imaushi Y/N.” Your name on his tongue was filled with warning, and you could do nothing but eventually nod. Mikey had said it himself—this was his domain. You could not disobey him.

A few seconds passed when neither of you seemed to move. Slowly—so slow it was done in half-hearted unease—Mikey removed his hand from your mouth and dropped his arms around you. Your cheeks burning and eyes glinting in distrust, you staggered away from him, fixing him with a sneer.

“Why won’t you let me go?”

He frowned at your demand. “Do you want to go?” Mikey’s question caught you by surprise. You spluttered and gazed at him pointedly, fury conscripted on every dip and line of your face. Before you could retort, he followed up his question with, “Where will you go? Will you be hiding from Kisaki? What is your plan?”

Every sharp inquiry was a stab to your deflating determination, and your shoulders sagged forward. The force of your quick escape came back to you in the form of a stitch in your side and your laboured breathing. You refused to meet his eyes, scowling at the scenery beyond. Night had overtaken day in the short span of your altercation with Mikey, and the stars were coming out, city lights wavering and blurring through your wet eyes.

Your chin wobbled and your brows were drawn to the centre of your face, a cresting despondency he recognized as dawning realization breaking across your sombre features.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” Mikey had no idea what compelled him to reassure you in this manner, but his words barely made a dent on your distrust. The starkness of your situation was rising with every second you ruminated over your dire situation.

What was your plan? Did you even have one in the first place? Or were you going to continue running until either your feet or your soul gave out?

“Then what do you want with me?” Your question was posited in such a soft voice, Mikey was sure he misheard you. His jaw ticked and he followed your line of sight. The winter chill was coming back with a vengeance and you started to shiver, still barefoot and in your sleep gown from the night before. He tried and failed to keep his aloof gaze from flickering to your pebbled nipples; the silhouette of your body in the dim light a siren-call for his erroneous attention.

Overhead, a lamp started to flicker, casting your face in fleeting bouts of light and shadow.

A heavy material draped across your shoulders and you turned to find him adjusting the lapels of his coat around your shivering body. Funny, you hadn’t even noticed you were shaking until the warmth enveloped you, along with the spicy fragrance that was becoming a quick association with his presence.

“You probably heard me in the meeting room,” Mikey murmured. A click and you sharpened your awareness to the ember of his lighted cigarette. Wafts of smoke curled around both of your bodies, and you tightened the coat around your figure to keep from staring at the perfectly plump lips wrapped around the white stick.

In any ordinary circumstance, you would have found a man like Mikey to be beautiful; with his fall of silver hair that reached his cheeks, dark brooding expression and perfectly sculpted features, he could have easily caught your eye while you were walking down the street. But, it was to your stern reminder that this was a dangerous man; someone you didn’t know heads or tails about and who had apparently taken an interest in you, especially when he continued with his next words.

“You are a leverage.”

Nothing about his admission made any sense to you. “A leverage? For what?”

His reasoning was simple: “Power.”

He doesn’t elaborate and you feel your left eye start to twitch. You reach out towards him, and before Mikey can back away, you grip the middle of his lit cigarette, pulling it from his mouth. Keeping your eyes resolutely locked on his, you stuck the filtered tip between your lips and sucked on it slowly; exhaling a drift of smoke right into his impassive face. The only indication of any outward emotion he would be experiencing from your stunt was a twitch in his jaw. In answer, you raised your brow at him, goading him to react.

“So, I’m a leverage, huh?”

He doesn’t retaliate; Mikey grunted and removed another stick from his pants pocket, lighting it up. It would be easier if he pretended you had all the cards; perhaps you would be more cooperative if you did.

“Is it Kisaki?”

You notice it then; the flash of anger on his face, the curl of his lip. Mikey’s visceral reaction to the head of Black Dragon gives you pause, and you took another drag of the cigarette, keeping the smoke and your bitter urge to scream at him embedded deeply in your lungs until it made you lightheaded.

“You know, I’m not an idiot.”

“Really?” he interjected, “Could’ve fooled me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and sniffed. “The moment you said my father’s name, all of your men balked.” A quick jut of your chin and you regarded him with icy firmness. “Why?”

Mikey took his time to respond, those listless eyes boring into your fuming ones. “Because they respected him.” A quick exhale, and the smoke seemed to caress your cheek. “I respected him.”

“You’re going to have to give me more information than that.”

It was his turn to appear distrustful. “Why?”

“Because if you want to destroy Kisaki, you need to know the ins and outs of our entire organization.” You sealed the deal with your next utterance: “And I am the heir to Black Dragon.”

He spared you a look of muted apprehension. “That’s cute, doll, but I know for a fact it’s Kisaki running the whole show.”

“He doesn’t have the support.” That gave him pause.

“What?”

You tossed the cigarette to the ground, watching it sizzle on the grass before it completely extinguished. “I have a theory. Kisaki wants to marry me to seal his position as the head of my father’s old organisation.” The more you spoke, the more you arrived at the same conclusion as to why your mother had basically sold her only daughter to a man with her husband’s blood on his hands. “And to do that, he needs to influence the right decision-makers.” A bitter smile graced your lips, and you cursed Ami Imaushi to the lowest pits of hell. “What better way to do that than curry favour with the daughter of the once-invincible Wakasa Imaushi?”

Mikey’s silence was a welcomed sign. There seemed to be an internal debate about him that was won when he sighed softly. “Follow me.”

You instinctively jerked away from his outstretched hand. “Where?”

“Downstairs,” he frowned. “I will tell you my truth now.”

The door to the garden burst wide open, the scarred man and the purpled-haired gang member both panting heavily, eyes darting around wildly before they noticed the both of you. Immediately straightening, they blurted out at the same time.

“Boss—”

“—apologies, we were searching for her—”

Mikey raised his hand to signal that all was well. “Kakucho, Ran. Y/N and I will be having a drink at the bar. Tell the maids to give her a clean dress and alert the waiters to be on standby.” Another command was delivered in a clipped tone, “No one is to interrupt us.”

The meaning of his utterances that was lost to you seem to be loud and clear for them. They both bowed and scampered off.

“Now,” Mikey murmured, extending his hand to you. “Will you do me the honours of having drinks with me tonight?”

You glanced at his outstretched palm, at the blank slate of his features and bit the inside of your cheek. You were sure you were going to regret this.

“Okay,” you said, his palm a warm press in yours. “Let’s have a drink.”

It came to your knowledge that Mikey did not just own the penthouse where he was keeping you captive—in fact, the whole damn building belonged under his name.

You tried not to let your wonderment take over, mutely drinking in the dark walls, the ambiance lighting and the Bossa Nova music tinkling through the speakers. The area was empty, the patrons ushered out once news that the building’s owner's request for privacy reached the bouncers. Your stomach was in knots, the short, red cocktail dress the maids had brought up to your room barely covering your thighs.

Mikey was still in his all-black ensemble, the coat you had returned to him slung over his broad shoulders. His ring-clad fingers were loosely gripping a glass of whiskey, swirling it in quiet contemplation while his other hand was tapping the arm of the couch chair. He broke out of his reverie when he heard the quiet click click of your heels on the marble floors, signalling your arrival. The bouncer who had escorted you from the penthouse bowed low to him and walked off, leaving you both together alone.

He was the picture of a perfect gentleman, standing up to pull out your seat. You nodded in thanks and sank down onto the soft surface with as much grace as you could muster. Immediately, a waiter in a stark-white dress shirt and slacks arrived to set down a glass of wine on the glass table as Mikey made himself comfortable again opposite of you.

“All my liquor is made in-house but this blend in particular has gotten rave reviews,” he started. “I hope you don’t mind me taking liberties ordering it for you.”

You didn’t and gingerly lifted up the glass by its delicate stem. The wine was smooth and coated your throat with its smoky and fruity notes, refreshing you after your quick bath and meal.

Setting down the glass, you glanced around the space. “This is… nice.”

Mikey didn’t rebuke your observation, preferring instead to stare at you rather than his surroundings. You suddenly felt self-conscious under his scrutiny, your thoughts racing a mile a minute.

Was there something on your face? Did your lipstick manage to smudge during the short elevator ride down from the suite to the bar? God—what if your eyeliner was starting to run?

But, he quieted all those thoughts with a simple, “You look beautiful.”

A warm flush not from the alcohol spread across your cheeks and you ducked your head down. “Um. Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything more, taking delicate sips from his glass. The dragon tattoo he had around his neck peeked from his collar, tracing down the divots of his throat, disappearing under his shirt. With his two top buttons undone, you could just make out the sharp points of its head, the design intriguing you; you had never seen anything like it before.

“I like it,” you blurted out without thought, eyes widening when he touched his gaze to yours.

“Like what?”

Clearing your throat, you reached for your drink, taking another sip. Swallowing down the mouthful of liquor and your embarrassment, you tittered, “U-uh—your tattoo.”

Curiously, you let your eyes flicker across the smooth expanse of his body. “Do you have any more?”

Mikey sat his glass down and tilted his head to expose a sliver of his nape. “There’s this,” he murmured, and suddenly, he flashed you a wicked grin. “I’m afraid the rest are private and confidential.”

You flushed at his implication, suddenly feeling too hot under your collar. Clearing your throat, you crossed your leg, setting down your glass. An idea formed in your mind.

Hitching the hem of your dress a little higher, you shyly dropped your gaze. “I never told anyone this, but—” The design you had kept hidden for half of your life was gently traced by your index finger. “—I got this on my twenty-first birthday without telling my mom. She would have a fit if she found out.”

A dragon similar to the one he had around his neck seemed to lovingly wrap itself on your thigh, bringing to attention the two letters that had a thousand implications in his world: BD. You opened your mouth to quip something witty, but all thought dissipated when you noticed those darkened onyxes drinking in the sight of your bare skin.

Your finger tracing idle circles on the tattoo came to a sharp still.

The air suddenly became heavy—too heavy, and you found yourself struggling to breathe. You had never seen such bottomless eyes in your life; one wrong move and you could drown in their currents.

Mikey broke the spell by leaning further into the backrest of his seat, turning his face to the side. His Adam’s apple bobbed from a hard swallow, his gaze latched on a painting of two lovers intertwined in a field to divert his attention. “It is pretty.”

You huffed a laugh. “Y’know, my dad may have been Wakasa Imaushi, but he sure as hell hated me being involved in his world.”

Something in your tone betrayed the lightness you were trying to convey, and Mikey was swift to catch it.

“You resented him for it?”

No one had ever asked you this question before. Granted, you had no one in your life to even share the burden of being a great gang leader’s daughter, but the simplicity of his words and how it had impeccably touched a raw nerve in you was too disconcerting to ignore. Within a matter of minutes, Mikey had expertly unwrapped your most tender afflictions, uncovering the bleeding lines of your long-time ordeal and bringing it into the stark light.

You tugged the hem of your dress to cover that vile tattoo with more force than necessary. Mind spinning, you didn’t give him a reply, and you didn’t have to—your answer was clearly written in the pinch of your face, the way you drained your glass in one go and refused to meet his eyes.

“There is no shame in hatred.”

Summoning a shred of courage to glare at him, you retorted, “There is no shame in being subtle.”

He exhaled a laugh that made you narrow your eyes. “Do not look at me like that, doll. This is my job.”

“Uncovering people’s weaknesses?” your sharp tongue got the better of you. “Throwing it back in their faces? Making them feel small?”

Mikey leaned forward, invading your space. The scent of his cologne dominated your senses, and you gritted your teeth, forcing yourself not to pull back; to stand your ground.

“Searching for danger,” he said in a low riposte. His whiskey-tainted breath fanned across your face. “That is my job.”

Your eyes that had fluttered to a half-mast from his proximity snapped open wide once you realized you were leaning too close to him. It was your turn to sink deeper into the chair, silently cursing your faltering determination.

“I am not as dangerous as you.” You were quite certain you were openly goading him now. “Unlike you, I have never killed a brother.”

The silence that followed had sunk into hyperborean levels. Mikey was no longer impassive, openly glowering at you in cold distaste.

“Is that what they told you about me?” His voice was quiet, even. But to anyone else that wasn’t Mikey, they wouldn’t know how he was internally reeling, seething from the silent pain of an accusation hurled into his face without considering his truth. The truth he wanted to tell you to put an end to this animosity you steadfastly held towards him.

“I didn’t mean to harm him.”

Before you could open your mouth to reassure him that it was a load of bull, his next words left you staggering with shock.

“But I was the cause of his death.”

Like the aftermath of a glass shattering to the ground, the silence left behind was astounding. You managed to scramble for your voice and wits. “You’re the cause of his death?” you swallowed, the prickly sensation in the back of your throat you recognized as a scream itching to fight its way from your vocal cords. You were shaking, your instinct to run away from danger blaring at you in full red alert. “You were the one who gave the order to murder Shin?”

“I never did it,” Mikey’s tone was absolute but his gaze held a million unfinished sentences—a cesspool of regrets he drowned in whenever the shadows of his past touched the memories of his present. “But I still blame myself for it every single day.”

It didn’t make any sense. Ami had always claimed your uncle’s death had a mens rea to it—a person of ill-intent to be blamed for his untimely demise.

“Then how did he die?”

Your father’s lilac eyes flash through your mind, and his voice urges you to look around, my little leopard cub. You did as he said and could only fathom a broken man who was clutching onto a half-empty glass of whiskey with white knuckles, staring down at the see-through table, his jaw clenched with an unnamed emotion.

“It was my boyhood friends—Baji and Kazutora—who did it,” he finally admitted in a voice softer than goose down. “And they killed him because of me.”

Mikey didn’t dare look at you; to see the disgust growing on your face. Shinichiro was undoubtedly an incredibly special person to you as much as he had been to him, and he was acutely aware of how bitter loss and betrayal could taste like on a young tongue. He lifted his eyes to your face, anticipating the curl of lip; for you to look at him as if he was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

But, he did not expect to find you crying.

“Y/N—”

“I don’t know who to trust,” you whispered, the tears incessantly pooling down your face like glittering diamonds. Mikey was never one to be moved by a woman crying; he had seen it far too much and often in his line of work. But, something about the pain ripping apart your soul was evident from the earnest dribbling of those salty tracks down your cheeks, the wide-eyed disposition you wore giving him a prime view of the last bit of faith you had for your family fracturing into a million pieces.

“No one e-ever tells me the truth.”

He sat his glass down. “Hey,” his reproach was gentle, more so when he crooked his finger to catch a stray tear trickling down your chin. “Don’t blame them. People try to find any reason they can to alleviate their pain.”

You closed your eyes, the anguish rippling across your face never deterring your beauty. Mikey reigned in his emotions and sat back a little ways to give you space to process your emotions.

“Kisaki was the last person to see my father alive,” you whispered, catching his attention. “He g-got into a fight with him and the next day, my dad was found with a bullet hole in his head.”

Despite leaving many daughters distraught from the death of their fathers, Mikey found himself perturbed by your reveal. You quickly dashed your tears and took a few deep breaths. There was nothing he could do but snap his fingers, and a waiter hurried over to refill both of your empty glasses.

You drank in silence, and he found himself studying the emptiness in your eyes that mirrored his. There were a million things Mikey wanted to do to bring that spark back; no one this young should look this deadened. But, all he settled on was putting his glass back down on the table and rising to his feet, holding out his palm to you.

“Come.”

You looked confused but did not refuse him—not this time. Gingerly, you abandoned your drink and wrapped your fingers around his, allowing him to pull you up, to slide open the balcony door and lead you out into the crisp winter night. Letting go of your hand, he pointed to a building in the distance. “You see that wall over there—the one with the unfinished graffiti?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, taking in the sight of a spray-painted dragon that had a huge blob in the middle as if someone had abandoned it halfway.

“That was done by your uncle Shin and your dad.” The memory of his brother’s excited voice as he recounted the harrowing tale filled his mind and he had to smile at the mirage of Shin’s glee. “They were almost caught by the po-pos that night and gave them one hell of chase where they stopped there—” he pointed to a narrow winding street that led to a pier, expensive yachts and fishing boats bobbing serenely in the currents. “—and jumped into the river to avoid being captured.”

Despite yourself, you had to giggle at the mental image. Uncle Shin was renowned to be fussy with his hair, and you could just imagine his shrieks of consternation from his precious locks soiled by the river water.

“See that road there? The one that leads into the bank and football field?”

You eagerly traced the path where his finger was directing you to look and nodded.

“That was where your uncle Shin taught me how to ride a bike for the first time.” In a quieter tone, he supplied, “Damn near cracked my skull open when I lost control of it and your bastard father didn’t even help—he just sat down by the sideline and laughed.”

You teared up again, not from sadness this time but a certain melancholic joy at the memories he was spinning to life for you. There was not much you could make out from your father and uncle’s old world before they consolidated Black Dragon together with other numerous gangs, but hearing it first-hand from someone who had also been a part of their life in a different way alleviated some of the tenderness in your broken heart.

“And there—”

“Mikey.”

Your soft voice caught his attention, and he glanced down to find you smiling up at him.

“Thank you.”

Two things happened at once:

1. Mikey felt his chest constrict when your features softened at his paltry attempts to cheer you up.

2. His body moved without his permission and he leaned in closer to you, close enough to smell the scent of vanilla from your hair.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for your lips to part, your eyes darting down to his mouth and back to his darkened orbs; a silent plea.

The both of you had unconsciously drifted closer, your chest almost pressed to his. Unbidden, you bit your lower lip and he traced that motion with hungry eyes, starving for a taste.

“Mikey—”

“You’re not running away this time?” From me.

That was the last thing on your mind. Carefully, you tilted up your head further, your sweet face illuminated by the feeble lights of the city that could not compare to the fire raging in your once distrustful eyes. “What’s the point? You’re just going to catch me in the end.”

Like a fool he was, Mikey discarded years of careful restraint he had curated through his blasé façade; all for the promise of your lips on his.

His fingers clasped your face, holding you firm so you wouldn’t even dare look away; not when he needed to see the confirmation of the beginnings of this ruin he wanted you to join him on. Your half-mast gaze never wavered, your sultry lips parting, practically begging to be inhaled by him.

He was close enough to feel your breath stirring the loose strands of his silver hair, to smell the ripe wine on your tongue. Both of your hands had drifted up to his chest, the warmth from your smaller palms bleeding into his shirt, settling somewhere in his ribcage right under his erratic heart.

You met him halfway, and the damage was done.

The softest pair of lips touched his slightly chapped ones, opening up a floodgate to his collapsing self-control. Biting cold from the railing dug into your back and you gasped, his tongue slipping into your mouth to stop any vehemence you may bring up.

But, you never did. You wanted this as much as he did. His heart clenched at the dawning realisation—you wanted him.

Soft as a feather, those lips that could spout the worst venom was kissing him back and he was almost dizzy; slowly asphyxiating from the force of a thousand repressed emotions he had never once allowed himself to feel. The guarded stacking, rearranging and compartmentalising of his needs, his wants—all of it was thrown out of consideration when you moaned into his mouth.

Carefully—so utterly careful like you could break from even the slightest pressure—he trailed one hand down your body, right to the hem of your dress. His touch left a burning path in its wake, and you could barely keep yourself composed when he slipped a hand under your dress, thumb catching on the delicate skin of your thigh right where your tattoo was.

“Stop.”

As if a dream had ended, he broke the kiss, staring down into your wide eyes. In answer to his concerning gaze, you gasped out, “N-never been touched—I-I don’t want to—”

He released you. Gathering back his shattered control, his hands clamped down on the railings, and he inhaled in deeply, willing the fog of lust to leave his addled brain. You took one shaky step back and another, and another until you were a safe distance away.

Mikey glanced up at you, turmoil tearing apart his cool dissimulation, and he shook his head. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” was your soft rebuttal. “I’m afraid of what I’d do.”

Despite himself, he chuckled at your innocent mortification. “I guess I stepped out of line. I’m sorry.” Sobering, he uttered, “You do know I will never touch you without your consent, right, sweet girl?”

You gnawed on your lower lip, letting his reassurances sink in. “I know.” Hesitantly, you flickered your gaze to his and murmured, “But would you? If I asked you to?”

He didn’t answer, and you thought he hadn’t heard you until you took in his countenance. Whatever closeness you both had cultivated during that tender moment was discarded when those blank eyes returned; a darkness you could not conceive shadowing his expression from thoughts you had no privilege to be privy to.

“This was a mistake.”

Though his words were delivered in a whisper, there was no denying the heaviness behind each hard-hitting implication.

You hid your mortification well, and even though your lips were still tingling from his kiss, you pushed past the unease to reach out to him—needing to understand what went wrong,

“Scared you’d ruin me?” You sounded braver than you felt in the face of rejection. “That you’ll wreck the Black Dragon’s princess? Is that what you fear, Manjiro?”

You knew that using his real name would tick him off; in some aspects, Mikey was as predictable as they came.

What you had not expected, however, was for his nostrils to flare and for him to release the railing, stalking over to you. Not one to be intimated, you stared him square in the eye, refusing to back down, even if you had to crane your neck up to meet his gaze.

“You love courting catastrophe, don’t you?” Grasping your wrist hard, he ignored your cry of surprise. “You want me to taint you? To touch you? To fuck you?” In a softer, dangerous voice that woke you up to the stark reality of your disposition, he said: “Or, have you conveniently forgotten that you’re Kisaki’s little fiancée?”

He spat out your title like it was poison in the back of his throat, and you would have flinched if he didn’t pull this card on you. It was your turn to bristle with rage; where did Kisaki fit in all this and where was the same hesitance when he was all but shoving his tongue in your mouth only a few minutes ago?

“Why should I care about preserving my innocence for a man who could’ve murdered my father?”

He was starting to recognize that the defiant raise of your brow meant that you were not easily swayed by reasoning; that in some ways, you hungered for the same undoing as he did.

“Do it,” you whispered, chin tilted up to meet his gaze, close enough to feel the heat drifting from his broad chest; close enough to tighten the unbearable tension until you were hanging to its edge by your nails. “Go ahead and fucking ruin me.”

Mikey doesn’t rise to your bait, keeping his bottomless gaze steadily upon yours; neutral, cool and calculating. But despite that, his next words send a dark thrill through you, exacerbating the conflict swirling heavily in your chest. “Don’t start something you might regret.”

With those words, he spun around, walking away, his broad back becoming smaller until he disappeared into the elevator. A Bonten underling arrived to take you back into your room, but you brushed him aside, exhaling, “Do you have a cigarette?”

He hesitated before passing you a white stick, even lighting it for you. Nodding curtly, you told him to give you a few more minutes; smoke drifting around your trembling form as you drank in the sight of the blinking lights. You retraced the building with the unfinished dragon design, to the river where your father and uncle had once dashed into, recounting every story with vivid clarity until you remembered his kiss again; inhaling the smoke deeper to smother the taste and feel of his lips on yours.

It had been a few days since your confrontation with Mikey, and though you were still inwardly reeling from the swift changing of his mood, you didn’t let it faze you, going about your days, adapting well to the sudden switch of your environment as swiftly as a gang princess could; lounging in your room, even challenging his men to a game of chess that they obliged.

If Mikey was concerned with you growing closer to his inner circle of gang members, he didn’t voice it out. You caught him sometimes staring at you when you laughed a little too loud at one of Rindou’s jokes or allowed Ran to card his fingers through your hair, always under the pretence that he could help you style it.

Unexpectedly, you had struck a good friendship with Kakucho who Mikey had tasked to watch over you; your personal guard when you had to step out from the building complex into the city for errands.

He had given you a stipulated time to enter the lingerie shop and you browsed around the space, catching sight of one lacy black piece that reminded you of how Mikey’s eyes had darkened when he took in the sight of your gang tattoo.

“Do you want to try this one, miss?”

The friendly voice of the saleslady made you turn and you nodded. “Can you get this in my size?”

She helped you get one that fit perfectly, and made a swift effort to ring up your purchases. You left the shop with a spring in your step, walking over to Kakucho who had his head bent over his phone in a discreet corner, browsing while he waited for you to finish.

“Sorry—thanks for waiting.”

Giving you a tight smile, he gestured for you to follow him.

“So, are you all good?” He eyed your purchases with his mismatched gaze. This close, you had to admit he was easy on the eyes; with his fall of midnight blue hair and angular features, he could’ve almost rivalled Mikey in the looks department. Even the scar and one lame eye could not detract from his quiet charm and you nodded, something about his presence reminding you of a loyal canine as he trailed next to you, almost shielding you with his body, keeping you in his line of sight.

“You said there’s a party tonight?”

Mikey had informed the house over breakfast that he had a deal to strike with a mercenary that was to take place in an underground club and he wanted everyone there—even you. Sanzu had first protested at your presence, but with one quick, cold glare, Bonten’s number 2 had been silenced.

“Yeah. You have something to wear?”

You hummed, knowing exactly what you were going to wear tonight. You were going to make Mikey eat his words; a little payback for how he left you high and dry at the balcony after your first kiss. It wasn’t as if you resented him; you just wanted him to look at you in something other than apathy and aloofness.

Despite this petty plan, your stomach was in knots. You were silent on the drive back and Kakucho didn’t try to cajole you into a conversation. Staring out the window, you broke the casual quiet with a, “So, what’s your story?”

“Hmm?”

“Your story,” you turned to face him and he spared you a flitting glance. “How did you become Bonten’s number 3?”

“Do you want the nitty-gritty or the simple summary?” he asked, one corner of his mouth tilted upward in amusement at your innocent inquiry.

“Would I have to be killed if you revealed it all?” you faked a gasp and it was endearing how he chuckled, a low and calming invitation to feel comfortable around him.

“I was recruited. I knew Mikey from a long time ago and almost fought against him, until…” Kakucho switched the topic quickly. “He didn’t have to convince me. I joined Bonten when I was twenty and never looked back.”

“Oh.” You followed up with, “You must really care for Mikey to work your way up to such a high rank.”

Kakucho tilted his head at your adept observation. Pretty smart for a sheltered girl. “I was his brother’s right-hand man. You could say I have a thing for serving Sano men.”

His joke did not have the intended reception and you purse your lips. “Wait—you were one of Shin’s men? How come I’ve never seen you before? I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered someone like you.”

A beat of silence. “Ah.” Kakucho kissed his teeth. “His other brother. Kurokawa Izana.”

You had never even heard Shin mention that name before and frowned. “Mikey has another brother?”

“Had,” Kakucho corrected, and it was not the trick of the light; there was a faraway look in his eye. “Izana passed away a long time ago.”

You clamped your mouth shut. This was brand new information to you and you recalled your uncle Shin’s tight smile whenever you inquired about his family, how the older man had patted your head and uttered what are you talking about, little pea? You and Wakasa are my family.

“Did Mikey have other siblings?” you didn’t know why you were terrified to find out the answer to this question. Kakucho, oblivious to your inner turmoil, nodded and turned the car into a busy intersection. Ahead, the clouds were dark masses rolling on the horizon, a promise of rain that was fulfilled when tiny droplets fell onto the windscreen. Kakucho flipped the windshield wipers on and got to your curiosity a second too late.

“Yes. He had a sister, too. She died, as well.”

The question was blurted out past your careless lips without much thought. “So, Mikey has been alone all these years?”

Kakucho gave you another one of his fleeting glances. “Yes. All we have is each other—with the exception of Rin, Ran, Sanzu, and Omi, of course.”

Somehow, that realization made your chest constrict. You fell into a disquiet, glancing at the rolling fat drops outside your window, mind numb.

Kakucho’s quiet voice drew you out from your reverie carefully. “To love in our world is to brand a target on your back, Y/N. I hope you understand that.”

You couldn’t shake off the notion that there was a double entendre behind his words, but you were too caught up in the thoughts that you had a whole set of relatives you had no idea even existed. Why didn’t Shin ever speak of them?

Those thoughts kept you occupied long after Kakucho had delivered you to your room and evening rolled by. What was so secretive about your uncle’s family that he refused to speak about them for years? Did your father know? Most importantly—did Kisaki know?

You couldn’t ruminate on those vexations for long; you had a party to attend to.

When night came, Kakucho was once more at the foyer, waiting for you. The sound of your heels alerted him and did a double-take when he saw what you were wearing.

“Um, Y/N—”

“What?” you asked, expression devoid of emotion.

He gave your dress a once-over, consternation written quietly in his incongruous eyes. “Don’t you think that your dress… it’s too—uh…revealing?”

“It’s a club,” you said with a shrug that belied how terrified you were for tonight. “Girls wear this to clubs, Kaku-chan. Now, let’s go before we’re late.”

Tasked with the duty of delivering you, Kakucho was one of the last drivers to leave the building, and he was already running past schedule. It was due to the time constraint that he didn’t dare point out that the little silky number you wore would incite a reaction in the men that might have the potential to turn this deal south. In short, he had a bad feeling about tonight.

The club was already in full swing by the time the both of you arrived. At least the bouncers were professional enough to not gawk at you, and you breezed past them with your head held high, beside one silently nervous Kakucho who directed you into a private room.

The effects of your presence were instant. Every Bonten executive straightened, eyes trained on you as you sashayed in. The Haitanis were all but drinking in your curves; Sanzu didn’t even bother to pretend like he wasn’t ogling at your bare thighs while his brother was more discreet, raking his gaze down your body through a veil of smoke from the cigarette hanging in his mouth. Mochi narrowed his eyes when you entered and Kokonoi actually looked up from his phone to take you in with a serpentine smirk.

That left only…

Mikey was seated in the middle of a large sofa, surrounded by his men, and unlike their rapt attention on your scantily-clad figure, his expression remained staunchly blank.

“You both are late.”

“Sorry, boss,” Kakucho interjected on behalf of you. “Traffic was horrible.”

Mikey snapped his gaze back to the table and gestured for you both to join them. You chose to sit next to Kakucho, but a hand around your waist directed you in between the Haitani brothers. Ran’s bright grin seemed to shimmer in the pulsing LED lights. “You look far too lovely to be sitting next to Scarface for the whole night, doll.”

At his words, Kakucho glowered, shooting daggers at the lanky man with his good eye. “Watch it, Haitani.”

“Ran’s right,” Rindou supplied, ever ready to come to his brother’s defence. His signature lazy smirk was laced with something predatory when his eyes skittered down your cleavage. “You clean up well, Y/N.”

“Let’s begin,” Mikey’s quiet voice brought them back to the agenda for tonight. Inclining his head towards Mochi, he uttered, “We’re ready for them.”

An equal number of men filtered in the room, all dressed sharply in suits with one carrying a briefcase that was handcuffed to his hand. You shrank away from their inquisitive glances in your direction.

Someone snorted. “Didn’t know Bonten did dealings in front of hookers.”

Immediately, Mikey shut them down. “Ignore her. Let us focus on the agenda of tonight.” You had to admit that this version of Mikey—all hard stares and deadened eyes—was titillating. Dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks with a velvet coat hanging over his shoulders, he looked every bit the yakuza boss you had grown up fearing. He lifted one ring-clad hand and pointed at the door. Mochi stood back up to shut it.

Sandwiched between the Haitanis, you had no choice but to listen to the logistics and benefits this smaller gang could provide to Bonten. In reality, dealings were never as deliciously intriguing as what was portrayed in movies. It was filled with men drinking, terse pockets of silence, and occasionally, a sharp quip that was disguised behind layers of meaning you were too inept to unravel. The music outside was exactly your jam, and once or twice you caught your foot bouncing to the beat. Ran noticed and he leaned in close to whisper, “Bored, angel?”

Ignoring his blatant attempts at flirting with you, you rolled your eyes and chuckled lightly. “Far from it—this is even more interesting than watching paint dry.”

He had to snicker at your words. Rindou, who had overheard your comment, smirked.

“Think we can weasel you away to the toilet so we can sneak better drinks?” the younger Haitani breathed, and the idea was tempting. Mikey was locked in a low discussion with the rival leader and the other men were languishing around, looking as bored as you felt.

You accepted their invitation to play with fire and stood up.

Every eye was on you and you bowed your head. “I need to use the ladies.” Glancing at Rindou and Ran, you sought permission when you said, “The Haitani brothers will chaperone me.”

Mikey swept his gaze over your open if not placid expression. One terse nod and you three were out of the stuffy room and into the respite of the club. Both brothers wore identical Cheshire-cat like grins when they steered you towards the bar.

“Jäegerbombs,” Ran called in a clipped order. At first, they were told to wait, but when the bartenders noticed who was making the request, they were spurred into quick action. In no time, six shot glasses of amber liquid were placed in front of you with Ran taking the first and passing it to his brother. Rindou lifted the shot in mock salute and you followed both of their leads, drowning down the sharp alcohol in one gulp.

They plied you with more drinks and what was supposed to be a quick excursion to the ladies turned into the boys dragging you into the dancefloor. Ran held you close to him while Rindou found another woman to chat up; you were swaying to the music, high on the strobing lights and Ran’s cologne. Warmth from two large palms settled around your waist and his lips touched your ear.

“A little birdie told me all about your make-out session with Mikey.”

You froze and he tutted. “Did you dress like this for him? Wanted to make him jealous? Tsk—and here I thought you were such an innocent thing.”

Stammering, you uttered, “That’s not true—“

“Relax, doll,” you didn’t have to turn to sense that he was wearing a shit-eating grin. “That’s what I’m here for.” Before you could ask what he meant, Ran spun you around, your face pressed to his suit jacket. Another body came up behind you and you tilted your head back to find Rindou smirking at your wide-eyed surprise.

“Having fun?” the younger Haitani’s hands joined his brother’s around your waist and you gasped when you felt both their crotches grinding against your thinly-covered pussy and ass. Rindou’s face was pressed to your neck and Ran’s mouth touched your ear again.

“Look up.”

You did as he said and encountered a sight that thrilled you. Through the glass of the VIP room, you could barely make out a pair of dark eyes studying your every move from where he sat, never wavering.

You didn’t have time to stop both their nonsense—Rindou tilted your head back and playfully nipped on your pulse, making you squeak while Ran nuzzled the other side of your throat. One quick glance back above your head and Mikey was nowhere to be seen. Despite the liquor and the haze, you sensed something was amiss. Pushing the two brothers away, you stumbled, loudly claiming that you had to go to the bathroom.

The coast was clear and you didn’t catch a glimpse of Bonten’s leader. Halfway into the ladies' room, you noticed one of the rival’s lackeys standing in front of the swinging doors. He raked his gaze up and down your body; you had been gawked, leered, and pawed at without your consent tonight, but nothing made you shiver quite like that menacing smirk.

Gathering towards you like a predator to prey, he cornered you against the wall.

“You’re Bonten’s slut, aren’t you?” The pock-marks of his face seemed to bulge like holes. “Guess they won’t mind me playing with’cha for a bit.” That bright grin loomed like the glint of a knife’s edge. “Since we’re gonna be brother gangs soon… and brothers always share their toys.”

“No—”

You tossed your head back to scream for help, but he was faster. One hand around your neck, the other trapping your wrists above your head. Your knee found purchase in his crotch and he grunted but did not loosen his grip.

“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that, whore—”

His weight disappeared. You pried your eyes wide to find Mikey gripping him by the collar. His silver hair was tousled, lips curled over his bared teeth, and his knuckles were dripping with blood.

Blood from the other man’s nose.

“What part of off-limits don’t you understand, you asshole?” Mikey’s low growl pierced through the shattering tension. The man stumbled over his words, unable to enunciate properly from the blood gushing from his nose.

Shaking him like he was an errant boy, Mikey slammed the deplorable man into a wall; watching him with passive eyes as he scrambled away, drops of sanguine leaking and staining his collar. He pivoted on his heel and regarded you with a frigid nod.

“Are you alright?”

Shaky could not begin to cover the turmoil that was howling in your soul. You steadied yourself against the wall. Mikey hastened to save you from the rubble of your crumbling lucidity, holding onto your waist and dragging you out of the bathroom. In the haze of the hastiness, you thought you passed by two tall figures, their voices blending into one chime that was quietened by Mikey’s subzero order.

“Kill them all.”

Shadows shifted in your periphery. You could imagine the door of the private room clicking close. The glint of holsters and guns. The screams.

Something that sounded awfully like a gunshot seemed to ripple past the booming bass and you flinched. Mikey kept you close under his arm, a frown marring his angelic features. He brought you to a dark coupe, opening the door and ushering you into the inky interior.

He sank into the driver’s seat, gunning the engine and the car lurched to life.

“You killed them all.” Your stiff lips mumbled the gruesome truth.

“I did,” he does not refute your accusation. Dark eyes serrated through your periphery from his quick glance and cut through your bleeding guilt. “They were of no use to me.”

“Why?” Your hands were shaking, and you had to sit on them to keep your voice steady.

“Because they didn’t pass the test.”

It struck you then. “That was why you wanted me there—bait.”

“Not bait,” he corrected. “A trial.” Continuing, he muttered, “I wanted to see how they would react to a perceived weak link in our group. You can tell a lot about a man based on who he respects within a syndicate.”

Your bloodless lips relinquished your next words with a numbing timbre. “That was not fair, Mikey.”

His palm wrapped around your hand. “I know, doll. I truly am sorry. I didn’t expect you to walk away from the Haitanis. Consider this a small wrench to the plan.”

All the secrets and lies were starting to pile up on your frail shoulders and you exhaled, “Is that how you see people?”

Turning your stormy gaze to him, your next words were deadly accurate. “Pawns. Pieces to your game.” The tears you tried to hold back betrayed your shock at being used so callously in his gambit. “I could’ve gotten hurt—”

“But you didn’t,” Mikey scoffed. “I planned it. Trust me—”

“I can’t,” you were almost inaudible. These wicked games needed to stop, and you were going to end it all.

“Y/N—”

“Even Kisaki is not as inhumane as you are.”

The car slammed to a stop. The road was strangely empty, and you realized that you were close to uptown. Right where Kisaki’s turf was dawning on the horizon.

“Watch your implications.”

“It’s true, isn’t it!” you cried out and yanked your hand from his grasp. “People are not fucking chess pieces for you to sacrifice, Manjiro—”

“Earth to Y/N,” his tone was calm and composed; a snake-like mask of indifference over his boiling anger. “I am the head of Bonten. I can do whatever I want—”

“Then go fuck yourself.”

The stillness that descended in the car was crushing and you could barely breathe past the tension. One second, you were in the passenger seat and the next, you were gathered into his lap. Mikey pushed his lips roughly on yours, and you gasped, mouth parting open to give him the advantage to slip his tongue into your gasping cavity. His hand was twined in the nape of your neck, holding you in place as his kiss devoured your complaints.

Your palms that were pushing against his chest faltered and your squirms turned into dulcet moans, your tongue pinned in place by the heavy pink muscle of his own tongue; your resolve crumbling in record time.

There was nothing you could do to stop the relapsing of your body into his; the gentle folding of your anger from his attention both waxed and waned your cresting despondency and rage at the delicate balance of power that tilted in his favor. You cursed his name as you moaned it and Mikey swallowed your ire with his insistent mouth, keeping you anchored onto his lap with his palms on your ass.

He pulled back a little to touch his forehead to yours. “Did you really think I would let anyone hurt you?”

At the feel of his hand slowly tracing down your thigh to settle in between your legs, you whimpered.

“That I would let anyone touch you.” The tip of his middle finger drew circles over your clothed clit, the rough lacy fabric on sensitive flesh a combination that had goosebumps dotting your arms.

“To leave a mark on you.” The same finger gently slid aside the seat of your panties. You gasped when he touched the uncovered, exposed flesh of your clit with his thumb; rubbing slow circles onto it.

“To even see you this vulnerable—” his teeth caught on your lobe as his finger slid deep into you. Your piercing cry fractured the silence along with the squelch of your pussy around his digit.

“Did you really think I would let them touch what’s mine?”

Your cunt was split apart by two of his fingers and you cried out, shaking from the onslaught of arousal Mikey was forcing you to endure for his sick delight.

“Mikey—”

“Would never hurt you, Y/N,” he muffled his admission into the crook of your neck. “Trust me.”

“I can’t,” you sob out, tears beading your lashes, your hips rutting along with every thrust of his nimble digits. “I can’t trust you because you h-hurt me—”

“I saved you,” he grunted and your stubbornness was dissolving at his words, becoming putty to his twisted reasoning. He was corrupting your trust and your resolution to hold him accountable.

A part of you relished in it; this maddening submission of your anger. He had you in the palm of his hand but little did you know that you were also driving him quietly insane.

Mikey abhorred the idea that you could’ve been placed in danger; hated himself for even tearing his eyes away from you for a split second. The idea that someone would’ve harmed you because of his faults flashed in his mind and the burden he had carried since Shin’s death and his emancipation from the light slammed into him with its full force.

He detested himself; if it was possible, he wanted to flay his own skin apart for his idiocy.

“Mikey, please!” you cried out, hips canting to alleviate yourself from the pressing insistence his force of lust was coercing into you.

But instead of gifting you with the sweet liberation of your orgasm, he pulled his fingers from your creamy depths and forced them down your throat. You gagged around the taste of your own musk and the salt from his skin, struggling to clean your secretions from his digits. Mikey grunted and something in his chest twinged at your reddened cheeks, the peel of your pink tongue as it lapped at his knuckles. He pulled back his fingers and pressed a soft kiss to your damp cheek, one to your forehead and another to your parted lips.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I truly am.”

“Tough luck.” Your breathing stuttered and you found it in yourself to forgive him when he pressed his forehead to yours. “I only accept apologies either in cash or pleasure,” you teasingly hummed and he exhaled a laugh.

“I can do both,” he promised and deposited you back to your seat.

The drive back to the penthouse was no longer tense with anger but with simmering lust this time. You could barely focus on your surroundings when the building loomed in the distance or when his arm had looped around your waist, holding you close to him in the lift ride back up to the highest floor.

A terse command that no one was to enter this penthouse for tonight to the guards and you were whisked away to a dark room, one with achromatic sheets and tall windows that overlooked the blinking skyline. Mikey continued where you both had left off, pressing your back to the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, hands roaming down your body to commit your outline to memory.

“Do you trust me?” His breath on your neck made a horripilation of pleasure slither down your spine.

The little dress he loved on you could barely cover your thighs, giving him a tantalising peek down your cleavage. Though he refused to touch you without your consent like what he had told you that night on the balcony, he found he could not keep his gallant promise; the city lights swimming in  blurry flickers through your hazy gaze and lowered eyes induced in him a pool of arousal that made his cock twitch. Your mind was spinning—not from the liquor you had consumed or even the high of your tirade.

His spicy cologne filled your sinuses, your mind on an overdrive, every nerve in your body standing in attention from his very presence. In the reflection of the windows, it was pathetically plain to see your growing need; how your pupils had dilated, hands clenched at your sides and lower lip caught between your teeth.

You inhaled sharply when his arms came to wrap around your waist. While you were busy drinking in the planes of his shoulders and broad chest through the window, Mikey’s eyes were firmly on your thrumming pulse point. Large palms spread across your stomach, the heat of his touch seeping through the diaphanous silk to sink into your skin.

“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help the groan that slipped past your lips when he touched his nose to your neck, inhaling in your light scent deeply. “Unless you want me to.”

“Mikey.” Your voice was not your own; it was breathier, higher—dripping with arousal.

“Manjiro,” he interjected, and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head when he replaced his cheek in the crook of your neck with his mouth. Kissing down the column of your throat, you were shaking; it felt like a storm was brewing in you, dark clouds swollen with rain waiting to be expelled. The pressure almost suffocated you when the scratchy skin of his chin rubbed against your pulse point, hot breaths touching the shell of your ear. There was nothing you could do but moan softly and tilt your head to the side, letting his lips mark a path all over your skin, claiming you as his holy terrain.

Your stomach flipped when his static hands started roaming down your body, moving to your sides, squeezing your hips, tracing your outline. The hard press of his cock was insistent on your lower back.

It struck you like a bolt of lightning then—you wanted him.

No. You needed him.

“Manjiro,” there was the beginning of a whine in your tone and his dark chuckle did nothing to assuage the crackles of electricity shooting up your veins faster than any drug could—not that you had tried substances before, of course.

But, if you could give the high a tangible sensation, it would be this—his tongue tracing the shell of your ear, his hips buckling into yours. Mikey was proving to be the most heady pill dissolving on your tongue and you wanted his flavour to saturate you; to bring you to the greatest euphoria of your life.

“Touch me,” the words were choked out, not from fear but a staggering desire you could no longer tame. “Please touch me.”

“Say it, princess.” His voice was deep and authoritative, a low masculine timber that made your thighs involuntarily squeeze. But, he impeded any chance of you to alleviate the pressure, his knee sliding between your legs, keeping them apart so he alone would be your salvation to this ruin you were about to give yourself to; the only salve to your burning need. “Say ‘fuck me, please, Manjiro’.”

“Fuck me, please,” your voice broke into a gasp at his name, “Manjiro.”

It was instantaneous; Mikey spun you to face him, crashing his lips down to yours. Your sweet moans were smothered by his mouth, his hungry groan reverberating from his throat and down yours. He tasted exactly the way he did the first time you kissed him; like whiskey and sin, devouring your every murmur and keen. The cool glass against your back offered you little respite from the scorching flames of his insistence.

His tongue touched your lower lip, slipping into your mouth when you parted it in permission. The warm appendage explored your gasping hollow, intertwining with your tongue, turning you into jelly with the force of how much he wanted you as much you wanted him. His hands were no longer around your waist, running up the smooth silk of your dress to cup your breasts, squeezing it ardently between his larger palms. Mikey growled—literally growled—and you heard the loud rip before you felt the material burn on your skin.

Crying out, he didn’t give you time to wrap your head around the fact that your dress was in tatters on the floor, the lacy black bra and panties set you had bought with the thoughts of how he would react to it devoured by his eyes, those bottomless onyxes spiralling deeper and deeper down, dragging you under its depths.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmured, fingering the band, eyes now half-mast; tracing the shape of your mound lightly with the tip of his middle finger. You shivered, and there was no warning when he hooked his digits into the seat of your panties. Another loud rip pierced through the silence, your underwear disintegrating, only the band clinging pathetically around your waist, leaving you completely bare for him.

Mikey was brutal, not just in his dealings as the underworld king but with your bra as the clasps tore and it fell to the floor, a useless heap of black lace that left you open to his inscrutable gaze.

There was nothing holding him back. To your surprise, he jarred to his knees, and you wondered what he was about to do when you got your answer not even another second later.

Whispery kisses were placed on your pubic bone, his lips leaving a fiery path to your mound and he parted your folds with two skilful fingers.

“Manjiro—”

Your reprimand died on your tongue.

His tongue squirmed through the dips of your pussy, tasting every inch of you, licking a broad strip from your twitching hole right to your throbbing clit.

Ah! You cried out, head thumping back on the glass, your hands flying down to grip his silvery locks.

Mikey hitched your right leg over his shoulder, leaving you wobbling on your remaining one, delving enthusiastically between your folds like he was a starved man and your pussy was an oasis he had been searching for a lifetime.

“Fuck,” he groaned, heady on your taste, completely drunk on the sounds you were making.

And oh—how you were singing for him.

“Manjiro! Manjirooo,” your voice broke off when he traced tight circles on your clit with the stiff tip of his tongue; flicking it, sucking on the nub like you were his favourite sweet. Your thighs were shaking, your vision growing blurry around the edges. The darkened room was no comparison for the flash of desire alight in those blackened orbs that flickered to you. All you could hear was his heavy breathing, the squelches of your pussy and the wet sounds of his mouth on you.

Your mind was reeling, the tears oozing from the corners of your eyes. This was unlike any pleasure you had ever experienced in your life; you were heady on the rough strip of his talented tongue, and Mikey was equally drunk on your flavour. Your hips circled, nipples hardening, already poised at the knife’s edge.

“Manjiro—”

“Not yet,” he murmured, leaving a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh. Those piercing dark eyes glittered with amusement when you whined. “Be good for me, sweet girl, and you’ll get your reward.”

He stood, gripping your thighs and hitching you up in his arms. But, he didn’t stop there—sliding your body on the cool glass, nudging you further and further until your legs were no longer wrapped around his powerful hips but hitched around his shoulders. Your back and ass completely smushed against the pristine glass, you gasped when he used his strength and the sturdy window pane as leverage, tongue delving enthusiastically between your folds and lapping at your tight, twitchy hole.

“Manjiro—!”

Shit, oh shit. Your thoughts were circling back to every lick and suckle on your folds, and Mikey relished in your lusty moans, the tight grip of your little fingers in his hair. In the periphery, he could just make out the curl of your toes, his slacks tightening at that sight. There was a spot of pre-cum already forming on the front of his boxers, hot and sticky in response to your scrunched eyes, your slack mouth and broken moans.

“Gonna cum for me like this,” he growled lowly, flitting those dangerous dark orbs to you, fingers twitching around the generous globes of your ass. “Gonna cream all over my tongue like the little slut you are?”

“Manji, Manji,” you were barely coherent, panting like a bitch in heat.

“Right in front of the city, too,” he murmured darkly, licking your essence off his lower lip, “You love showing people how desperate you are for my tongue?”

Tears beaded and dribbled down your face, your mouth open in a silent scream when he angled your body, tilting you up to expose your puckered hole; dragging his tongue from the flushed star-shaped opening to your clit. Playing with your clit and pussy like it was his favourite instrument, Mikey thinks that even if he died in this instance, he would happily go out smothered by your thighs around his ears.

“Manjiro,” you whined, and he supposed he likes the sound of his name coming from your mouth. He found that he wanted to hear more; to touch, push, and tease until your mind was a blank slate with nothing but his cock in your thoughts.

Patience, he reminded himself. It will all be worth it in the end.

But from the way you gasped, whites of your eyes exposed in the half-light as your orbs rolled back into your head and a fresh spurt of juices coated his chin, he found himself hard-pressed to follow his own advice.

Mikey’s patience was put to the test when one of your shaky hands sneaked up to tweak and tug on your nipple; pleasuring yourself as he ate you out and he damn near came in his pants at the sight.

“Filthy little girl,” he murmured darkly, mouth so close to your clit you could feel every dirty word brushing on the sensitive nub. “You really want this, huh?”

You don’t even deny him, nodding vigorously as your pointer and thumb squeeze and tease your nipples into even stiffer peaks. “Want you s’bad, Manji.”

His nickname leaving your intumescent lips sparked some hidden emotion from the depth of his frigid chest and he groaned into your slick flesh. “Fucking death of me, I swear.”

His mouth descended on your pussy again and he wasn’t gentle this time; sucking on your clit in harder and longer pulls until you could feel it throb against his tongue. He used one hand to tease the star-shaped pucker of your asshole and your eyes fluttered wide when you sensed the first stirrings of an intrusion.

Biting on your lower lip, you graced him with a pleading look, one that he ignored when he coated his thumb with the juices that had trickled to your back hole, easing his digit around the tight ring of muscle. You threw your head back with a shattering shriek when his tongue speared your insides in tandem with his thumb violating your ass in one quick thrust.

Your hips swivelled, begging for a reprieve from this almost painful pleasure he was inflicting on your sensitised body. Mikey moaned freely when your cunt pulsed around the stiff peak of his tongue, and he reckoned he almost heard your thoughts breaking at this taboo arousal he was showing you for the first time in your life. Before you could get into the rhythm of his tongue fucking you while his thumb crooked deep in your ass, he removed both appendages, and you slid down the glass pane, trapped between it and his hard body.

Barely giving you time to absorb his next move, your back met the bed, the black satin sheets brushing on your skin reminding you of a lover’s caress. Mikey bent down to worship your tits now, leaving no inch of the plush flesh free from his nipping kisses, the bite of his teeth on your mound making you cry out and grind your hips against his.

His lips gently brush on one hard nipple and he teased you with fleeting kisses, promises of sucking on it never fulfilled as his tongue peeked out to drag around your areole, never giving you what you wanted and needed. Your begging gurgle was caught in the back of your throat when he repeated the same motion with your other breast.

It was like your body was an open advertisement of your impending need but Mikey did not heed the signs; gently fluttering kisses up your neck, catching your lips with his. Tasting yourself on his kiss, you eagerly drank your combined taste with greedy lips. The tent in his pants rubbed your tender folds and you parted your mouth in instinct, his tongue delving in to taste your growing desperation.

Every pore on your body was standing in attention, your pussy pulsing almost painfully when he bypassed your nipples in favor of leaving purple bruises on the flesh of your tits. Your hands flew to his hair and you tugged on the silver roots, silently begging for him to let you have a taste of the pleasure he was intent on denying you.

The bite of his teeth was leaving you almost high with the sensation, your body writhing on the soft sheets, sweat slicking down your back and seeping into the diaphanous material. You were pretty sure your juices were mingling with the perspiration to pool underneath you and you whimpered his name under your breath.

“S’that, baby?” he murmured, drowsy eyes touching yours. He was getting as euphoric as you were on the electricity humming between your two intertwined bodies.

“Please,” you could only whimper, no thought beyond the hot press of his tongue against your nipples screaming in your mind. “Please—ah!”

Pulling an unexpected move, Mikey wrapped his lips around one turgid nipple, sucking on it hard enough to get you hiding your keens behind an open palm. He showed your other peak the same attention and your hips buckled into his, grazing the tip of his cock with your drooling hole and leaving silvery trails on the dark material.

Your arms came up to snake around his neck, holding him in your amorous embrace while your thighs hitched around his narrow waist, drawing him deeper into your body. He spent a few good minutes just sucking, teasing, and nipping on your painfully hard buds as if he could coax more of your body’s juices out from those motions alone.

It worked. You were drenched for him, every suckle leaving a throbbing, almost smarting sensation down your nether regions. You whimpered when he trailed those kisses down your abdomen, finding familiar footing in between your thighs once more. It was far too much and you buckled your hips into his mouth when he touched it to the side of your waist. His tongue traversed from the sweat-slick flesh of your inner thigh right to your tattoo; following the design with the tip of his tongue, nipping on your inked skin lightly.

Your nipples throbbed from the cool air hitting the sensitive flesh. Innocent eyes widened when he moved back to your pubic bone, leaving wet, hot open-mouth kisses on your clit. Despite having spent what felt like hours suckling and mouthing your folds, this was a new sensation, and you screamed out his name when he slipped his tongue through the dips of your arousal-slicked flesh.

The ceiling overhead seemed to shimmer, and you could barely feel, taste or sense something that was not Mikey. His cologne seemed to imbue itself in your hair and skin; the taste of your musk and his lips heavy on your tongue.

“Could eat this pussy for days,” his groan reverberated through your core and you clenched down pathetically on thin air. Mikey drew harsh patterns on your now reddened folds; tracing and retracing, occasionally dipping his tongue into the gaping hole that yearned for something more than his teasing touches. 

‘Manjiro, I need your cock,” you cried out and you heard his sharp inhale of breath. Lifting his head from between your thighs, he cocked an eyebrow, ridiculously handsome even with a sheen of slick on his chin and his wicked mouth quirked into a grin.

“Say that again.”

You didn’t know what compelled you to lift your body up from the sheets and push him down onto the bed. All you could feel was the heady lust thrumming in your veins when you straddled his lap and pawed at the buttons of his expensive Hermes shirt; ripping it off to expose the rest of his dragon tattoo and then some.

“I want your cock,” you exhaled shakily, running your hands down the firm planes of his chest to his stomach. He shuddered underneath you and as sudden as your flash of dominance thrilled him, it was no match for the subtle circles you were drawing on the front of his slacks with your swollen little clit. “Need it so fuckin’ bad.”

He stared up at you, noting how your neck was far too pure and clean without his marks and remedying that effectively. Mikey drew you in closer and pressed his lips to your throat, working his mark into your pristine skin. You gasped, hips circling faster; practically dragging your folds on the seam where the head of his cock was straining to escape.

Mikey helped you in your impending dissolution with one hand snaking in between your bodies, finding your tits. He rolled one bud around in his callous fingers, pinching it in between teasing rotations. You shuddered and his eyes widened when he felt a flood of wetness down the front of his pants. He glanced down to find your juices soaking the expensive material and was duly impressed.

“Did my sweet girl just squirt all over me?” he breathed and you gurgled a moan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Came all over my cock even without me putting it in, hmm, my darling?”

Stop, his mind warned. Stop calling her all these useless endearments.

But, he was so far gone that not even the darkness could touch his thoughts. He lifted your pliant body off his and set you back down on the bed. You raised your head, covering his jaw and neck with kisses, tiredly circling your arms around him.

“You’ve had your fun,” he muttered, eyes shining with dark mirth. “Now, it’s my turn.”

He removed his shirt and grappled for the buckle of his pants, the leather belt hitting the ground with a dull thud. Your greedy gaze never left his movements, and the need in your eyes would’ve made something in his dormant heart flutter, but it was smothered when his cock sprung free from the confines of his boxers.

A dribble of pre-cum oozed out to splatter on your thigh and he grunted at the filthy sight; your flushed folds, clit still twitching from the overstimulation he had put you through; your fucked-out expression coming back to life at the sight of his length. Truly, he had never seen you look this beautiful.

He nudged the head of his cock between your folds and you found interest in the tattoos on his skin. You pressed your mouth to the tail of the dragon curling around his right pec; dipped your head further down to drag your tongue over the design and lifted it right back up to trace the head of the dragon on his neck. Once your eyes adjusted to the sight of his fully naked body hovering over you, your interest was piqued by the intricate ink curling on his hip. You touched it with shaky fingers, marveling at the dips and twists of it.

“It’s an ouroboros,” he explained softly. “A—”

“­—Snake eating its own tail,” you exhaled, flashing your eyes to him. “It’s beautiful.” You swallowed and lifted both hands to cup his face. “You’re beautiful.”

The ardor that dripped from your tone made him wonder if the white scars on his body did not turn you off; how he would never be a blank canvas that deserved to be painted with the strokes of your innocence. But, you never looked at him like you abhorred his very existence; in fact, Mikey supposes this was the closest love had ever crossed your features.

Gripping his hand in yours, you brought his knuckles up to your soft lips, kissing the ridges. “I never thanked you for saving me from that goon.”

Mikey ducked his head forward, partially covering his embarrassment with his silver locks. “S’nothing.”

You pushed back his hair, smiling up at him with that unadulterated acceptance he found himself drowning in. Snapping his eyes from yours before he could do something sappy like kiss you full on the lips, he grasped the head of his cock and traced it on your clit, shallowly dragging the swollen head through your folds. You hissed and dropped your hands from his face, planting it on his shoulders instead.

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing in your heavenly scent. Your body seemed to unfurl for him, knees hooking around his hips and tilting it upward so his cock could coat its drooling essence over your drenched seam. Mikey lifted his hips and replaced the head of his cock with his fingers. Testing the waters by gently circling your clit, he eased first the tip of his finger into your tight hole. Your hiss gave him pause but you encouraged him, wiggling your hips.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he breathed.

Your answering whimper pushed him into a cruel realization that no matter how much you wanted to deny this—to deny him—you were powerless to do so. Powerless because of the slick now freely coating down his index finger, how your eyes latched onto him and your lips parted in heady need. The power that rushed through his chest was animalistic at worst and potent at best.

He used his thumb to rub your spent clit and you come back to life; teeth imprinted in the juncture of his neck, your thighs tensing around his waist. Ready for him; ready for your second ruination. He mixed your arousal together with your freshly squirted juices on his cock as free lube, before grasping the base.

“You’ve completely ruined me, Y/N,” he murmured, trailing his bloodless gaze down your face. “So forgive me for wanting to do the same to you.”

Those were the last words your ringing mind could fathom before the tip of his cock nudged through your opening.

Your broken gasp crashed into him like cold water; hips undulating like a slow wave under him. As much as he wanted to keep this act filthy and primal, you made it incredibly hard to concentrate on ravaging your body like he wanted to with your soft touches. Your forehead pressed to his, hands twined in his hair, breaths shared with his parted mouth; your lips ghosting his with unadulterated yearning.

Mikey settled deep inside you the same moment he kissed you back. There was no hiss of pain or even a jerk from you. You just accepted him as he was. Somehow, it was that thought that drove him wild and he started to thrust, to take everything that you were willing to give him; to savor this purity that he was devastating with every slam of his cock into your rippling walls.

You don’t complain, too far gone to even care that he was rutting into you hard enough to rock the bed; that the heavy frame of this king-sized bed was hitting the wall with every hard shove of his throbbing dick inside you. It was like a pulse of heat that steadily brought you into delirium and you could feel every vein molding your walls, the crown of his head catching on a spot deep in you that had you crying out his name to the heavens.

There was nothing he could do to fight off the coil of heat tightening in his abdomen. Drops of sweat dripped and mingled with your salty skin. The squelches of your pussy taking his cock were dirty and obscene, and so were your rising pleas for him to go faster, to go harder, and to fucking devastate your body and soul to the point of no return.

“Manji, Manji,” you chanted his name like it was a prayer when he was the summoned Devil all too keen to welcome you into the darkness of your downfall.

In a quick jerk, he lifted his cock from your creamy depths with a snarl. “Did’ya think I would give you this cock after how you were acting like such a little slut?”

He grabbed your hips, stilling your pathetic air-fucking and the desperate noises you were making for him to plunge his thick girth back into your waiting walls.

“Prancing around in that fucking dress, letting the Haitani brothers feel you up, seducing that rival gang—tell me why I should even let a little whore like you cum around my cock?”

His words ignited your humiliation as well as the depravity you had kept under lock and key; freeing the part of your soul to cry out, “Manji, please! M’sorry… didn’t mean it.”

You were whining and whimpering like a brain-dead little slut, only bent on one thing and one thing only—to feel his cock violating your dripping cunt, to feel it filling and plugging you up till you were nothing but a screaming mess. For him.

“Didn’t mean it?” The power was firmly back with him, all traces of tenderness gone when he leaned down to sneer at you. “Like how you didn’t mean to rub against Ran at that bar or dance awfully close to Rindou?” He clicked his tongue at your muted embarrassment. “If you wanted me to fuck you into these sheets, Y/N, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please?” you squirmed, fixing him with those tear-glazed doe eyes that he held a soft spot for. “Will you fuck me now?”

His answer was the stretch of your walls around his cock, and a grunted, “Yes—but only I will decide when you cum.”

Mikey wrapped one hand around your neck, cutting off your airflow while he plowed into you mercilessly. The truth was, your previous orgasm couldn’t hold a torch to the one building inside you in this instance; the roaring flames aching to be put out by the pleasure he was promising your wrecked body.

“Ah—Manji!” your choked moans were amusing to him. Such filthiness for a princess who had no experience whatsoever. It made him grin in the satisfaction that he was the only one who could do this to you; to see the aftermath of your own undoing running down your cheeks in hot tears, your thighs shaking around his waist, and your cunt all but sucking him back with a hungering vengeance.

His thumb touched your clit and despite his low growls for you not to cum, you were close to losing it. Drooling, aching—there was not a single fiber in your body that did not demand a reprieve.

You were sobbing; full-on tremors that rocked your body apart in tandem to his cock pistoning in you.

Your lower lip wobbled, hips deliciously undulating to meet his own, your caught moans and whiny pleas heavy in his ear. Mikey doesn’t think of the consequences, doesn’t even stop himself from fully giving into temptation when he spurted his cum deep inside you. It filled you up; hot, heavy, and sticky with his possessiveness.

“Manji, m’gonna—“ you break off your warning with a loud cry, head tossed back and hair bleeding out across his pillow.

“Cum.”

One word. A thousand implications.

You were all his. Your orgasm swelled and broke, shattering your resolve into a million pieces. Sano Manjiro had claimed you and now your soul and body belonged only to him.

The sensation of his cock pulsing painfully hot in your rippling walls triggered your release; you creamed around his length without any demand. Giving in—giving yourself all in for a man who was your family’s bitterest enemy. The dangerous beacon he upheld soon became a warm light for a lost soul drifting across a sea of bliss.

He brought you deeper into his embrace, carving a space for you from his stony flesh to hold you right against his thudding heart. You listened as it slowed to a dull murmur, your combined pants simmering into deep breaths. Mikey rubbed his nose against your hair, inhaling you in with a soft sigh.

Quietly, he ran his hands down your body, gently squeezing your ass and feeling you writhe against him in slow satisfaction.

“I gave in,” you whispered. The crashing realization you exhaled doesn’t stop him from brushing your hair back from your face or leaving feather-light kisses down your throat. “I gave in to you.”

“Do you regret it?” His voice is soft, a touch of frailty in it.

He felt you shake your head. “Not in the least.” The whisper of your kiss in the crook of his throat has his heart constricting. “It feels… right.”

It did. Mikey would never reciprocate your sentiments out loud, but something about the weight of you in his arms, your breath on his skin, and legs tangling around him got him slackening his grip on his tightly reined emotions.

He doesn’t speak anymore, too afraid that he may give it all away. You were already unconscious by the time he succeeded in fighting against the molasses of sleep swirling in his veins.

In a quiet voice, so he doesn’t wake you, he breathed out your name into the darkness.

“You’re making me do the impossible,” he murmured, running his fingers down your bare spine, a line of goosebumps rushing at its wake. Your sleeping face pierced through his raucous thoughts, bringing it a peace he was afraid to hold in his chest. “You make me want to live.”

Since that night, Mikey reckoned that you had stolen a piece of him and refused to give it back.

Everywhere he went, he thought of you. It could be during a tense meeting with his black-market investors, and his mind would still betray him; straying to the memory of your lips on his, how your jagged edges complimented the crooks of his body.

He doesn’t want to admit it because to give in to those erroneous ideas would spell disaster. And so, he kept himself preoccupied, dealing with death on the daily, drugs on the side, and a heaping pile of distrust that fueled him to stay away from you.

A part of you had anticipated this of him. It wasn’t until your second week in Bonten’s abode that you started to get bolder. You would smile at him first, then prance around in those tight little skirts he half-loathed and half-admired you for wearing.

If you wanted my cock and for me to fuck you into these sheets, Y/N, all you had to do was ask.

By gods did you want him.

You wanted him to be the only man who would ever see you in that manner again. Even it was courting ruin for the second time so be it. You would gladly submit yourself to those sensations once more.

Which was how you found yourself on his lap during one of his dreary meetings, reading a book while the rest of his men droned through chilling reports and their gory achievements. There was a ruckus that caught your attention and you looked up from your book; Mikey’s hand tightening around your waist.

Two disheveled men in black suits were pushed into the room, and the atmosphere nose-dived. You closed your book, trepidation heavy in your chest when you noticed the familiarity in their features.

These were—

“What are Black Dragon members doing on our turf?” Ran drawled. Beside him, Rindou snickered, lilac eyes flickering from one consternated face to the other.

“Lost, boys?”

Kakucho frowned and stood, Sanzu mimicking his movements. The two men warily turned their gaze to Mikey who was staring at the rival members with impassive disinterest.

“Why are you here?” Bonten’s leader inquired in a low tone.

The first man turned to you, completely ignoring Mikey. “Y/N-san, we have a message from Kisaki-san to you.”

Affronted that they were blatantly ignoring his King, Sanzu growled. “Oi, assholes, do you know who you’re speaking to—”

“Let them speak,” Mikey commanded once he felt your body tense.

The other man inhaled and delivered the speech he had prepared through stiff lips. “’Y/N, come back home. The whole underbelly is a mess because we’re looking for you. Your mother is worried sick. If you return, we’ll forget all the transgressions that Bonten has done and renew the faith of this treaty through our marriage. I will forgive you for running away and we won’t go to war. Please. Think about the many lives of the innocent that will get caught in this crossfire. Do not let your father’s efforts at creating peace go to waste. Your fiancé, Kisaki Tetta.’”

Sanzu’s mirthless chuckle broke through the film of unease. “Seems like lover boy is getting antsy.”

Ignoring Bonten’s number 2, Kisaki’s underling turned his imploring gaze to you. “Please come back home, Y/N. We cannot promise peace between the two gangs if you choose to remain here.”

You turned your eyes to your shaky palms. Under you, Mikey was taut with impatience; every eye and ear was trained on your next words.

“No,” you murmured and could actually sense their resolution depleting. These two poor souls had been chosen for a suicide mission and your heart bled with sympathy for them. You had no doubt that if they returned empty-handed, there would be a much worse fate that awaited them than if they found themselves in Bonten’s clutches.

“Please, Y/N,” the other one was begging now. “We can avoid a ton of bloodshed if you return with us. Women, children, and even the innocent will get dragged into this—do you want their blood on your hands?”

His words rattled you and you quavered.

“Can Kisaki promise not to harm me if I follow you?” Your words were uttered softly, but there was no mistaking the palpitating fear behind them. Mikey’s arm snaked around your waist, a silent plea for you to stay that doubled as a possessive gesture. Their eyes charted his movement, lips thin with distaste.

“If Kisaki wants a war, he will get it,” was Mikey’s blunt reply. The meeting was resolutely over from his intoning ultimatum. Both men got to their feet and turned. An implicit nod and Sanzu drew his gun. Your nails dug into Mikey’s arm but he gently cupped your face, pushing it into his neck and blinding you to what came next.

“Don’t look, doll.”

You smothered your shriek into his skin when you heard the first shot go off. Smoke filled the room and the gun in Sanzu’s hand seemed to sizzle. One of your comrades fell to the ground while the other screamed, collapsing onto his ass and scrambling away with wide eyes.

“You animal!” he cried and Sanzu leveled the firearm in his face, but Mikey clicked his tongue.

“No. Let him go,” voice harder than steel, he added, “After all, it only takes one mouth to deliver a message.”

The man picked himself back up with one last loathsome glare at you and hightailed it out of the room, presumably to send word of this declaration of war to your fiancé. Mikey did not miss how you were trembling in his arms and gave word for his men to leave you both alone. The rival gang member’s body was dragged out, blood staining the floor a wordless beacon for your blurry gaze.

You had done this; you were the cause of this man’s death and because of your selfishness, someone had died. Wakasa’s disapproval flashed heavily in your mind, his purple eyes boring into yours with an intense hatred you deserved. It was your fault that this declaration of war had happened—how many more would die because of your choice?

In your mind’s eye, you could picture the streets bloodied, two great gangs clashing and leaving destruction and death in its wake. What would happen to your mother? To Mrs. Aoki? To Mikey?

Your throat constricted. If anything were to befall Bonten, it would be due to your recklessness. You could taste their blood, see their bodies; Kakucho lifeless on the ground, Sanzu with one final maniacal grin on his face, Ran and Rindou in a heap together, even Kokonoi would not be spared. Takeomi and Mochi’s wrangled bodies… and Mikey. As if sensing your disruptive thoughts, he reeled you back in with a soft touch on your thigh.

“Y/N?”

You turned and closed your eyes, burying your face in his neck. “Why didn’t you let me leave?”

A trembling exhale of emotions shimmered in the air. “Did you want to leave?”

Your answer was instantaneous. “No, but—”

“Good. Cause I don’t want you to go.” You peeked up at him, at the determination clenching in his handsome features. Fall of silver hair down his angular cheeks, onyx eyes peeled on your troubled countenance, he was far too precious for you to sacrifice. Your father’s gang would not let this slide; they would hunger for revenge. A fallen member’s life was worth more than any promise of marriage and you dreaded the horror that awaited for you when you returned. A jolt in your thoughts—did you want to go back?

Those doubts clanged and swirled in your mind like cacophonous jeers and you took in a shuddering breath.

Mikey’s eyes softened and he pressed his forehead to yours. “I won’t let you leave, you know that.”

“Why?” your question was poised with such sentimentality and fragility that he had to smile.

“Isn’t it obvious?” A gentle flick to your forehead lightened your frown. “I like you.”

“And you’re willing to see war happen because of me?”

“No,” he uttered curtly, and his arms tightened around your waist. “But if you think that I would let Kisaki get his hands on you to punish you, you are sorely mistaken.”

Your lower lip trembled. “Mikey—”

He shushed you with a quick press of his lips on yours. “I know the risks, Y/N,” he whispered against your mouth. “But I’m prepared to face it all.” For you. That truth was unspoken but you could unmask it easily. The staggering weight of his devotion made you dizzy and you latched your gaze onto his.

No words were said—for what could be remarked in this situation? All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and keep your doubts to yourself; hiding your face once more in the sanctuary of his shoulder as if it could offer you a reprieve to this trajectory of destruction you both had jumped headfirst into.

tagging: @bontenbunny @half-baked-biscuit​ @wasurenagusaa​ (only bcs i want you simping for mikey so we can be in manjiro hell together <3) 

© all works belong to lalalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own

[ruki--mukami]

[NSFW]

{AYOOOO mMY COWORKER PEEKED AT MY SCREEN!!😳}

Rukiiii, you know how I feel about you- *Her hands grip on his belt as his fingers creep in her underwear* oh! huh....Um! *Her back arches when she feels his other hand sneaking up* hey.....ahh mhhhm~ you know how to use your fin..fingers *When she feels the pressure on her clit, she stops all attempts to hover herself on top of him, she melts on his laps, her eyes close shut and her walls flutter around him each time he presses on it* Go faster...ahhh mmhm, Ruki..Your c-...you're clean?- wait vampires don't get...diseases? mhhm can I..? *her hand slides down to his zipper, cupping his dick and palming it* Can I have it? pleasee? *She opens, well tries to open her eyes and look at him, a smile forms on her face* Rukiii~ *She kisses his adam's apple, leaving lipstick on him* I want it...I want you

....Sometimes when you bite me, I wanted you to take me there and then, you bite so..hard but your mouth feels so good on me *Elaf kisses his lips before unzipping him* B..bite me and fuck me, ruki, you can do that, can't you?

⚠️ NSFW BELOW: 18+ ⚠️

"What kind of question is that, Elaf? Of course I can't catch whatever horrid STDs you're thinking of. Talk about ruining the mood," he laughed with cold humor, looking down at his freed semi-erect member. "Well, since you asked so politely... Yes, I should like to see that lovely face of yours drenched in my cum. Make sure you take all of me carefully—I may be more well-endowed than you expect."

Waves of rapture washed over the Vampire like an all-encompassing tidal wave as the young woman targeted his neck, perhaps not in the same way as he did towards her, but in a sensual assailment he never felt until now. Half-lidded eyes glanced down at her, hands helping her undo his own belt as his cock sprung forth at full attention.

"Show me what that pretty mouth and tongue of yours can do, Elaf."

Other than his throat, Ruki longed to feel her lips stretched around his length instead. A sinister smirk rose on his visage just from imagining it as the faintest groan escaped him.

"If you swallow all of my cum... Then perhaps I'll bite and fuck you as you ask. I won't hold back, so I expect you not to hold back either."

[hornime]

twinkle tits | tanaka saeko x gn!reader

she laughed again, causing a strangely warm feeling to bubble in your stomach. “i like you, you don’t take anyone’s shit.” her expression turned darker. “i’d love to break you.”

warnings: 18+, timeskip!saeko, kinda dom!saeko, titty sucking, mentions of unsafe driving

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: furudate told me that it’s canon that saeko has tit piercings in the timeskip. 

you grumbled in annoyance as a red chrome motorcycle cut in front of you on the highway, forcing you to slam on the brakes and hold down your horn, probably for a bit longer than was necessary. as you both decelerated to stop at a red light, the rider, visage hidden by a mysterious black helmet with a tinted shield, turned back to look at you, making you seize up behind the steering wheel.

they seemed to think something over and rotated back to face forward on the seat, before raising their right hand and flipping you off.

are you serious? you thought. you’re the one who cut in front of me.

all you wanted was to give this person a piece of your mind, but you knew that 1) road rage just wasn’t worth it and 2) doing so would do nothing but make your commute unnecessarily complicated. it was one of those mondays, and the last thing you needed was to get pissed off before getting morning coffee in your system. all you wanted to do was forget about the incident and move on with your day.

unfortunately, the fates weren’t keen on making that happen.

to your frustration, the annoying bike, with, to your newfound knowledge, the even more annoying rider, turned into the lot of your office building, parking in front of a recently sold lot, which was conveniently located right next to your workplace. you debated for a second over where to park, for all you knew, this biker could be crazy or something, but you decided that, at this point, you really didn’t care.

you turned off your engine, gathered what you needed for the day, and stepped out of your car, intending to look straight ahead and get through the doors of your building with as little conflict as possible. thoughts bounced around in your head as the revving of the motorcycle a few spots away quieted: don’t engage, don’t engage, don’t enga—

“hey! you!” a voice called out. you cursed internally, before spinning your head towards the yell.

a woman with brown eyes that glinted dangerously and blonde hair that shone in the early sun was tapping her foot, the incessant click of her black stiletto on the concrete becoming more and more irritating. stiletto? you thought. how the hell was she wearing stilettos on a motorcycle?

your eyes couldn’t help but trail downwards towards her chest, her crossed arms accentuating her soft, leather-clad curves. as you were distracted by her body, she walked up to you, snapping a pair of red nails in your face and bringing back to reality.

“hey,” she insisted, a hint of amusement evident in her voice. “my eyes are up here.”

you looked up, embarrassed at being caught ogling her, and made eye contact. shit, you thought, losing yourself in her sharp features. she’s really hot. suddenly, you remembered what this crazy lady had put you through: and she almost made me crash. “hey,” you responded tersely. “who the hell taught you how to drive?”

you cringed at your bluntness, so much for avoiding conflict, while she raised an eyebrow in challenge, a spunky smile turning her lips up. “who taught me how to drive? what about you? you barely checked if anyone was gonna turn in.”

you chuckled in astonishment. there was no way this bitch was trying to flip this on you. “you’re kidding right? you drive like a literal madwoman.” you thought back, in hindsight, maybe you hadn’t looked to see if anyone was coming, but that wasn’t the point! isn’t it her job to be a defensive driver?

she threw her head back and laughed, a strangely charming sound for how loud and taunting it was. “yeah, i get that a lot. too fast, too reckless, and too cocky. i think it makes life more interesting.”

“well, i think it almost killed me.”

“lighten up,” she snarked, digging the tip of her pointer finger into your chest. “you look like someone that takes life too seriously. you gotta take a risk sometime!”

“a risk that might send me into my grave,” you deadpanned, “no thanks.”

she laughed again, causing a strangely warm feeling to bubble in your stomach. “i like you, you don’t take anyone’s shit.” her expression turned darker. “i’d love to break you.”

you flinched at her change in tone. what?

“well,” she continued. “i gots’ta go. lots of lives to ruin! yours is just one of many.”

you called out as she swiveled to walk away. “wait!” she cocked her head towards you. “where d’you work?”

she gestured to the lot she’d parked in front of. “saeko’s cycles. i’m saeko and i sell cycles. motorcycles. ‘s a work in progress. you?”

you nodded at the building next to hers. “there.”

she approached you again, extending her fingers to dance on your shoulder, sending hot chills down your spine. “we’re work neighbors then.” she grinned devilishly. “guess i’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

you gulped. she really was hot.

“guess you will.”

you both went your separate ways.

for the next few days, the pattern repeated: saeko would cut you off, you’d honk, she’d flip you off, and you’d engage in some banter before heading off to work. you looked forward to interacting with the driving demon everyday; you thought about her throughout the day, on the way home, at night in your bed with nothing more than your imagination, your hand, and an incessant ache for sex... she was driving you crazy.

on saturday morning, you grumbled at the sound of your alarm: you had to drop off some paperwork at the office. reluctantly leaving your bed, you drove your way to the building. a scarlet flash caught your eye, and you were surprised to see saeko’s motorcycle parked in its usual spot. why’s she here? it’s saturday. after completing your task, you reached for the handle of your car door, then stopped. saeko’s probably working in her shop, you thought. it’d be nice to stop by.

you peered in the doorway, hearing the clattering of what you presumed to be tools coming from the back. “saeko?” you called, making your way through shelves of biking equipment and gear. “it’s me.”

the blonde poked her head out from the other side of a muddied motorcycle, hair pushed back with a headband. “hey!” she stood up, wiping her hands on a damp cloth, approaching you in a red-lined vest and a black headband. she looked dressed up, almost for a performance.

“what’s with the getup?”

“oh,” she said, looking down as if she’d just noticed what she was wearing. “taiko clothes.” at your confused expression, she clarified: “taiko’s a kind of japanese drumming. i’m captain of a local team. this,” she pointed at her vest, “is a happi. and this,” she tugged at the headband, “is a hachimaki. i just came back from rehearsal.”

you stood, speechless. she looked really good in those clothes, but you were sure that she’d look even better with them off.

she cleared her throat. “you have a nasty habit of zoning out on my tits. like what you see that much?”

your eyes shot back up to her, the heat of humiliation creeping up your neck. “um, uh. i-i...”

she chuckled at your shame. “no it’s okay, i like the attention.” her gaze turned predatory. “and i like you, too.”

within an instant, saeko was on you, your mouths melding together in a raunchy and needy kiss, tongues clashing passionately. lips locked within each other, she guided your movements, leading you to a small room at the back of the shop.

suddenly, she shoved you off of her, raising her leg so that the toe of her black stiletto teased lightly at your crotch. she gently increased the pressure, causing you to yelp in surprise—and an odd form of pleasure.

“why don’t you take a seat, babe?” the pet name made you shiver. saeko continued pushing you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the leather of a swivel chair, and you fell onto it.

eyes wide with lust and lips bruised with her animalistic desire, she thought you looked absolutely perfect, gazing up at her with a look of pure want. her eyes narrowed as she approached, towering over you. her hand grazed your throat before grabbing it. her hachimaki was hanging off the top of her head haphazardly, and she reached up and took it off, placing it on a neighboring table. she did the same with her happi, leaving you with an enticing view of her top half, clad in nothing but a lacy black bralette.

you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her, fervently tracing her delicious breasts. the area over her nipple was covered in a mesh fabric, and you could see—was that silver?

your head jerked up in shock. “you have tit piercings?”

“hell yeah i do,” she teased, climbing onto your lap and spreading her lags on either side of your knees. in this position, her bust was at your face-level, the barbells sparkling hypnotically. “you like?”

you swallowed dryly, convinced that she knew exactly what she was doing: spurring on your already overwhelming desperation for her body. “...yeah,” you whispered breathlessly. “i like ‘em a lot.”

she crossed her arms and lifted the erotic undergarment over her head, bare flesh now tantalizingly close to your mouth. “give ‘em a taste then.”

she didn’t have to tell you twice. your lips swiftly latched onto her right nipple, tongue swirling around the bud, and you moaned at the metallic taste of the piercing. you raised your thumb to play with the other one, and she gasped at the contact. 

“you—you’re really good at this,” she panted. “you look cute like this. all needy for my tits.”

you mewled at her praise, releasing her nipple with a pop! and moving your mouth to work the other one. “i like you, saeko,” you mumbled into her skin. “i don’t even mind that you’re a shitty driver.” you looked up at her, eyes blown wide with arousal. “you’re really cool.”

“yeah, yeah, i know,” she giggled. unexpectedly, she pushed her body off of you and landed on her feet. 

“why?” you pouted, trying, and failing, to conceal your disappointment, mouth feeling empty.

“oh, stop whining,” she chided, pulling her clothes back on. she motioned to a nearby motorcycle helmet on the corner of her desk. “put that on.”

“wha-where are we going?”

she sighed, kneeling to scrub some dirt off her shoe. “i know i said i’d break you, but i didn’t realize you’d get this dumb just from some sucking. we’re going to my place.”

she turned to glance at you, ravenous gaze reflecting her intense desire. “and once we get there, we’re gonna have a lot more fun. if we survive the drive, of course.”

you let out a sigh of amused exasperation. she’s gonna kill me.

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[canonconspiracy]

We Aren’t Strangers Anymore (Tendou Satori x Fem!Reader)

Fanfiction By: @rmorningstar21 

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Tendou Satori x Fem!Reader

Cross-posting this to my Ao3 account (rmorningstar21) under my Haikyuu Collection.

Warnings:  No true warnings, just a lot more character development than I’d normally do for a 2 part one-shot.  Honestly - I wanted to turn this into something.  Not sure if I ever will, and it’s been sitting in my “Need To Post” for quite some time, so I thought I’d share it.  Aged-up characters (time passing), and I don’t know...for Tendou, I don’t want to cut his hair after time-skip.  I think he looks better with it long.  ALSO; I personally think that Ushijima would be an awesome, but relatively cold brother.  Anyways, onto the piece-

The chilled rain patterned softly upon the city street, deep storm clouds leaving no mercy to those below.  With the time nearing eve, the sky itself black with not a single star to shine, thunder rumbled in the distance.  Wind whispered through the rain, though it merely nipped the skin.  

Gripped tightly in her hands, the woman held a plain black umbrella, shielding her y/h/c locks from the storm above.  Pattered feet were merely dulled by the distant roar of the thunder as she made her way through the area, y/e/c locks gazing upon the storm above.  Her gaze shifted from the clouds to the pavement in front of her as she rushed, like any, to seek shelter from the stormy eve.  

"At least brother made me bring an umbrella," she muttered to herself as she used her free hand to pull her y/f/c jacket closer to her body, shielding herself from the chill of the air.  Despite her near monotone voice, her lips perked upwards the slightest bit as she continued to walk.  No matter how little it seemed her brother cared towards the woman, it was those little things that reminded her he had a heart under his stern visage.  

Striding further, she turned the corner to see a peculiar sight.  The rain still pattered mercilessly against the pavement, and yet, someone had been out in that rain, no umbrella atop their head.  Knowing she had been nearing the apartment she shared with her brother, she allowed a sigh to escape her lips as she moved herself to the other side of the road, catching the stranger. 

His fiery crimson locks were soaked from the rain above, slender body with his poor excuse for a jacket clinging, dripping as if he had been walking for quite some time.  The man's pace was slow, almost as if he was enjoying the melancholy that surrounded him, though if he had, his lips betrayed him.  From the little she could see of his face, his lips curled downwards, opening slightly as if he were muttering to himself.  

Her movement may have been more blunt than she intended, reaching out to tap upon his soaked, slender shoulder.  The man jumped for a moment, his eyes wide as if he had seen a ghost as his gaze met her own.  With his shock, a surprised yelp escaped his lips.  

"I'm sorry to startle you," she spoke, though her tone held no flavor to it.  A hint of kindness she attempted to sprinkle in, but the woman with the y/e/c eyes had the same monotone her brother held.  "I'm sure it won't help a great deal now, but…" As she spoke, she shifted her umbrella to the man's hands as her lips curled upwards the slightest bit.  "...you should get to your destination soon.  It would be too bad if you caught a cold." 

"Do you always give your belongings away to strangers?" The man teased, a wry smirk against his lips as he chuckled at his own words.  It was obvious from his stance as he held the umbrella that he had been chilly, but even despite his rude statement, the way he shielded himself from further moisture spoke otherwise.  

The woman shook her head, the chilled rain beginning to pour upon her y/h/c locks as she stifled the slightest chuckle.  "What's your name?" She asked, y/e/c gaze meeting his own.  "I'm Y/N."  Though it had been informal to introduce herself by her first name, she hated basking in the fame that her last name held.  

He had seemed puzzled by her words, though he still responded with, "Tendou Satori."  The wry smirk upon his face had yet to leave his face as his eyes shifted to study the woman's expression, trying to figure out what was truly going on with this peculiar woman.  

"See, we aren't strangers anymore," she spoke, her monotone holding a hint of tease as her lips curled upwards the slightest bit more.  "Get yourself inside and warmed up, Tendou.  I'm sure I'll see you again." 

With her words, the patter of the rain drew further and further from her ears as she dashed herself inside the apartment complex.  Wringing her y/h/c locks with her hands, she walked up the stairs to the apartment that read 24.  Slipping her slick, chilly hand into her pocket, she pulled out her key before unlocking the apartment.  Sliding her wet shoes off her feet, she placed them aside before entering the apartment, a shiver falling up her spine. 

"Didn't I tell you to bring an umbrella?" She could hear the monotone of her brother scold before she even shifted to walk into the apartment the rest of the way. 

Turning to the tall brunette, she allowed a sigh to slip past pouted lips.  "I did," she confirmed, matching his monotone.  "There was someone outside of our apartments dripping wet.  It's really pouring out there." 

"Your kindness is your weakness, Y/N," he spoke, rolling his eyes as he sighed.  "And yet it's to be expected from you."  Pausing, he plopped himself on the couch in a rather straight position, grabbing a magazine.  "Go get yourself warm before you catch a cold." 

"You don't need to tell me that," you grumbled, though your voice had a slight shiver to it as you walked off to the bathroom.  As you did, you called out to your brother as you walked.  "I'll make dinner once I'm out of the shower.  If you have any requests, let me know." 

With that, you carefully closed the door, toweling off before you even got ready to start the water for the shower.  As you did, you could not help thinking about that red headed male, his voice reverberating in your mind as your lips curled upwards the slightest bit.  Though he merely teased you, and though you had been sure you wouldn't see the stranger again, there was something about him that left a mark upon you.  

"I hope I see you again, Tendou," you murmured to yourself.  

*** 

"I'm heading to volleyball if you would like to join me," she could hear her brother call out as she had been working on another writing piece for the local newspaper.  Ever since the two had been kids, he always had volleyball.  In the beginning, Y/N would be the one throwing her brother sets, helping him train for his future, his passion.  As the two aged, Y/N had become more of a supporting cast in her brother's life, cheering her famous brother on from the sidelines.  

Even so, her gaze perked up at the thought, Y/N tucking away the piece she was writing as she stood from her desk.  Subconsciously running a finger through her y/h/c hair to straighten it back out, she hurried towards the door.  "Of course," she spoke, though barely any emotion dripped into her words.  Slipping on her shoes quickly, she played the part she learned to play, the stoic silent sister that was not to embarrass him.  

"Try to keep up," he spoke, a hint of teasing to his monotone as his honey colored eyes shifted down to his sister.  

"I'm no athlete," she replied in a deadpanned tone, though she still followed through with the challenge all the same.  

Once the two left the apartment, the warmth of the sun heating their skin, they were both at a quick jog.  Mentally, she thanked whatever she could that the college campus had not been far from their apartment building, already beginning to lag behind her brother.  Pushing her limitations, her breaths were short as she kept a three feet pace away from him as the two ran.  

"I nearly left you behind," he spoke, no upturn or downturn of his lips as he stated the fact, his gaze shifting down to his sister as the two entered the gym.  Unlike her, he had not been out of breath, barely broken into a sweat as he walked into the gym itself.  

Muttering a soft sorry through panted breaths, Y/N leaned against the nearest wall to stray as far away from his practice as possible.  Vaguely, Y/N noticed a few of the teammates he had from back in high school, though no one truly struck enough of a chord for her to remember the name of.  With the old, there had been a few new, and as her y/e/c gaze shifted, they landed upon something familiar.  

Y/e/c eyes widened as she nearly spoke his name aloud, though she chided herself for the way that her heart tightened in her chest at the sight.  Tendou, she thought to herself fondly, her lips curling upwards the slightest bit.  Even if it had been a couple years since the woman saw the crimson locked male outside of her apartments, she could feel a wariness inside of her from seeing him once again.  

Middle School, High School, and College practice all had similarity to it, Y/N had found, despite the fact that they had one great difference.  The rigorous expectations placed upon the players seemed to double from Middle to High, while it was placed in tenfold for college practice.  If Y/N had been unfamiliar with volleyball, just maybe she would have thought the group was competing in a true game, just in this small practice alone.  Each player was placed to their limitations throughout the two hours that practice stretched.  

"Y/N, isn't it?" A shorter haired brunette, towering over the smaller woman asked with a grin against his lips.  "It's been a while.  Nice to see that you came with Ushijima again." 

She forced her lips to curl up the slightest bit as her gaze shifted to address the man that she vaguely recognized from her brother's high school volleyball team.  Though he had been a key player, a rather impressive player in the sport, she never grew close to her brother's teammates.  Nodding in acknowledgement, she attempted to seem happy to see the man, though she had been far more fond of the idea of seeing Tendou once more.  

"As long as work doesn't interfere, I'll be in attendance quite often this quarter," she spoke, a mild hint of forced emotion in her monotone.  

The crimson haired male's ears perked up the moment her name slipped past the man's lips.  Surely quicker than the speed of light, the crimson haired male rather rudely butted into the dead conversation, an arm resting upon the woman's shoulder.  "Crazy to see you here, Y/N," he spoke fondly, as if the two of them knew one another well.  It took more than a moment for the crimson haired male's mood to change in an instant, practically jumping back away from the woman as he realized who she had come with.  "Are you Ushiwaka's…" 

"Sister," Y/N corrected the accusation, though that tightness set into her chest at the burning hot touch of the man's skin.  A hint of blush splayed against the woman's cheeks as her gaze caught his once more.  "It's nice to see you, Tendou." 

"You, uh, you can just call me Satori," he spoke, a wry smile against his lips though he had the slightest bit of fluster.  "If I'll be seeing more of you, I mean." 

At his own fluster, Y/N found herself truly intrigued by the man with the crimson hair.  Lips curled upwards the slightest bit more, a hint of excitement leaked into her words as she spoke.  "Indeed you will, Satori," she spoke fondly, though she could already hear her brother calling out for her.  Knowing she would be left behind if she had not hurried, she stood to her tiptoes to plant a peck upon the man's cheek.  "Brother's going to leave me behind if I don't hurry up." 

Though he wished to offer her a partner to walk home with, knowing he had not lived too far off campus either, his wry smile simply grew.  He watched her figure retreat off towards the exit as his slender hand moved to press upon his crimson cheek, where the ghost of the woman's lips still could be felt.  What he could not help thinking, in that moment, was simply that he could not wait until the next day of practice.  

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

Finding Love by the Nile | pharaoh!th x fem!reader

Summary: New Pharaoh Tom is young and handsome. After succeeding to his father at a very young age, he is now respected and loved by everyone – but mostly desired by the all ladies of the Egypt Kingdom. As big as his harem can be, one particular creature catches his attention since long time ago and now, he is determined to make her his.

Pairing: Pharaoh!Tom x Commoner!Reader

Warnings: some cute cocky Tom moments but full fluff power

Word Count: 3485

A/N: I’m such a sucker for Egyptian mythology since forever so I decided to combine this passion with Tom, because I’ve never read something like that(?). And there is actually a Tutankhamun exhibition in Paris (and I wish so hard I could go tbh), that’s how this idea popped up into my brain 😗 So yeah, we’ll see how it goes!! Hope you like it ✨

⚠️ For the sake of the plot with the time period and ethnic details (Antic Egypt), the reader (Y/N) will have black/brunette hair, brown eyes and a little tanned skin. Tom will also be a bit more tanned. Thank you for your understanding!! ⚠️

masterlist

City of Giza, Egypt – c. 1539 BC

(Y/N) walks in the streets of the city center. It’s barely ten in the morning. People mill in the alleys and the merchants don’t hesitate to scream about their good deals in hope to tempt new customers. Children weave in and out the crowd playing tag, as their giggles full of life mix with the regular morning hubbub.

Always so much life, nothing changes.

This is the place where the young (Y/N) was born and grown up, in a kind family in a modest home but where it was good to live in. But nothing goes as we plan them to be. And (Y/N) still remembers that particular day where her destiny changed.

The old pharaoh left the world of the living to join the Other Side of god Osiris. All Egypt cried its deceased king who reigned for almost thirty years. And all Egypt got surprised to see a twelve-year old boy announced as his heir. His only child. When the boy was officially proclaimed as Pharaoh of the Egypt Kingdom, the population got to finally discover the face of its new ruler. So young but already with a disconcerting beauty. Wild brown hair due to ridiculous curls, but that seemed weirdly soft to touch. Big brown eyes so deep and sharp but warm at the same time. Him and (Y/N) were the same age at the time. She couldn’t stop but stare at him with marvel and astonishment. Both their worlds were different: the rich sovereign family on one side and the servant people on the other. But that didn’t stop the aforesaid people to cheer and honor their new king chosen by the Gods. And (Y/N) did the same.

Then time flew by and (Y/N) is now eighteen. Long and thick brunette hair cascades on her back, framing a luscious body as well as her gorgeous visage, with hazelnut eyes and soft lips. Stride across the streets of the city, on a market day, is one of her favorite hobbies. It is nearly impossible for her to miss this day, unless if her father needs some help for work.

‘(Y/N)!!’ As she hears her name, she turns her head toward the voice.

‘Oh, hi Nana! How are you?’ Asks (Y/N) with a warm smile.

It is “Nana”, as casually named, the old neighbor lady next to (Y/N)’s household. She is like a second grandmother to her and they truly are fond of each other. (Y/N) couldn’t miss an occasion to pay her a visit.

‘Good, my child, thank you. I bumped into you father while going out and he asked me to tell you, if I saw you, to join him in front of the bridge outside the city.’

Oh. (Y/N) knows more than well what that means.

‘Your father is making more and more return trips to the Royal Palace. It seems like the Pharaoh appreciates his fabrics a lot!’ Laughs Nana.

The Pharaoh. Just talking about it makes (Y/N) let out a big sigh. She is not the only one that grown up, the young Pharaoh from six years ago back then has also changed. Quite a lot.

(Y/N) observed his evolution during several visits to the Palace. Born in a modest family of linen farmers since decades, the young lady grown between fields and weavers and was determined to carry on the traditions. Everyone liked their textiles made of linen, including the royal family who put its trust in (Y/N)’s father. As soon as she was able to work (quite early), her father brought her with him to the Pharaoh’s Palace to deliver and propose new textiles. Of course she always stayed behind to let her father handle the family business, but she took advantage of it to observe the new “little king”, – as some people called him at first –, at any occasion. His mother and close advisers were always in sight to guide him at the beginning of his reign.

Still in power nowadays, he is now known as the young and handsome eighteen-year old Pharaoh idolized by all the country. Besides getting more self-confidence, he doesn’t stop and rush around like a madman to develop Egypt. And the people respect him for that matter. But what noticed (Y/N) over the years was, in addition to all that, that he became a true charmer. More like a lady-killer, in fact. He knew that. ‘The Pharaoh is so handsome!’, ‘He is more and more beautiful!’, ‘Did you see his muscles?’, ‘He must be blessed by Ra, God of the Sun!’ All the time. Any woman falls in love with him and, without anyone noticing well not really but anyway, the young Pharaoh created his own harem. Of course, like he would care. (Y/N) noticed with great regret even if she will never admit it out loud the number of young ladies increasing each time she visited the Royal Palace with her father. One even more beautiful than the other, wearing dresses too much fitted – probably created with the linen of her family – and some black kohl around the eyes, they were free to go around the Palace as they wish. But where (Y/N) could see them endlessly was next of him. All the damn time. This is what people call jealousy.

(Y/N) sighs again thinking about this all over again. She couldn’t stop, this feeling is stronger that she imagines. But it is time for her to accept her fated destiny…

‘Thanks Nana, I will go find him’ Replies finally (Y/N) while taking the granny in her arms for a hug, ‘And you, be careful at the market, okay? I’ll see you this evening!’ She then takes her leave and starts walking to the bridge, while waving to Nana on her way.

After a few minutes she catches sigh of her father who is rushing to reorganize some textiles in his barrow. (Y/N) speeds up to help him.

‘I’m here, father!’

‘Ah, there you are (Y/N)!’ exclaims her father, turning towards his daughter’s voice, smiling. ‘I was checking if I took all the textiles to show to the Pharaoh. There we go. Everything is ready, we can go.’

Both of them set off and cross the bridge heading to the Royal Palace. It is around twenty minutes walk on the other side of the river. This is the perfect time for father and daughter to chat together about anything. The Palace is located in the South of Giza by the Nile. The air is hot, as usual, but walking by the water creates a fresh breeze that lightens their steps.

‘I see you’re wearing the new dress you made yourself yesterday’ notices her father, a proud smile showing.

The dress worn by (Y/N) is her own creation. Her mother taught her at a young age how to weave textile to then sew it and create costumes, and (Y/N) took a great liking in it. Today she wears a straight mid-length dress in cream-colored linen she tinted, with the collar and straps sewed in big stripes of pearls. The bottom of it is embellished with some patterns of Isis’ feathers. Her feet are covered in strappy sandals in dark leather.

‘You really are talented, sweetheart. I am so proud of you’ continues her father. He adores his daughter more than anything in the world, and nothing could make him happier than seeing her walk on his steps. He is sure she will accomplish great things in the future.

‘Thank you, father’ smiles (Y/N), ‘Mother also helped me a lot with the pearls.’

‘You are both talented and beautiful women.’

A peaceful silent takes place in the discussion. Both of them were all smiles and little by little, the Royal Palace is appearing in the arid horizon. (Y/N)’s thoughts start to turn upside down again, her throat is dry, her hands sweaty and an uneasy feeling begins to grow in her stomach. For some time now, it was the same. A sort of odd stress that she felt as soon as she was near the Pharaoh’s Royal Palace. The Pharaoh.

‘Your mother and I combined two types of linen to create a new type of textile. I wonder if it will be to the Pharaoh’s liking.’

Everything goes blank around her and her father’s words wanders in the air. Could I appeal to the Pharaoh? That’s impossible… (Y/N) never spoke directly to the Pharaoh, or maybe if she had to present or give some information about a textile. She just assisted her father in his task so she couldn’t imagine getting herself noticed or, even worst, being seen as someone disrespectful to the royal family. And ruin all her father’s business.

But the Pharaoh has, in fact, an intriguing personality. (Y/N) could sometimes feel his eyes on her when she was displaying textiles, while her father kept explaining all the details and features. Or he would just call her and ask her to come closer to “see the textiles better”. Of course it was not the textiles he was looking at.

‘(Y/N), we are here.’

As waking up in the middle of a dream, (Y/N) gets a grip of herself and they in fact arrived. She can’t even remember passing near the guards at the entrance.

Come on, (Y/N). Breath in…. And out…

Her father put the barrow next to the entrance archway that leads to the throne room. He picks some textiles, keeps them under his arm and starts to walk inside the Palace.

‘Father, I err… I think I will stay outside a bit. I-I got a bit hot when walking so I will join you… A bit later…’ mumbles (Y/N) while playing with her thumbs.

‘Are you sure? Do you want me to ask some water to the Phara-‘

‘No! no no no, don’t worry, father… R-Really, I just need to rest a little’ insists (Y/N), showing him a begging look.

‘If you insist, sweetheart… Sit in a shade place and do not hesitate to ask if you need something. You can join me when you feel better’ finishes her father slightly worried, but still left a kiss on her forehead. Deciding not to insist on it, he enters the Palace before glancing one last time at (Y/N) who, to reassure him, smiles and waves at him to go.

Finally alone, (Y/N) moves the barrow and places it in the shade of a jasmine tree. She decides to sit down on the sandy ground, back against the open side of the barrow and head lying of some textiles that make great pillows. She closes her eyes and empties her mind. The jasmine above her leaves a delicate perfume in the air, big palm trees swing there leafs with the wind and some birds sing in the distance. So calm. The breeze of the Nile is still refreshing the air, to (Y/N)’s pleasure. This oasis is a true haven of peace and nobody here to disturb her.

‘At least I will not see him today…’

‘I hope you’re not talking about me?’

(Y/N) jumps and lets out a squeal. She then brutally stops in her tracks of standing up because she loses her balance and lands with a chaotic “BOOM” in the middle of textiles in the barrow. And she hears that same voice chuckling at her. Its seems kind of familiar… That’s weird… Wait- When she finds her way out the piles of textiles – careful not to damage something – and is ready to stand up, she can’t believe who is in front of her.

‘I didn’t think you would be that fearful, (Y/N).’

No, that’s not possible…

Well it is?! Right in front of her eyes is the Pharaoh himself. He stands there, towering her, his torso puffed out and hands on his hips. Clearly (Y/N) couldn’t help admiring that true masterpiece. His naked and defined torso displays a pectoral collar made of golden slab, beautify with many gemstones such as lapis lazuli, cornelian and turquoise. His wrists, biceps and ankles adorn very large bracelets that look heavy just by watching them. About his costume, he wears a classic shendyt around his waist, extending to above the knees and hold by embroiled gold and blue belt. His sandals are similar to (Y/N)’s but more sophisticated with gemstones. Finally rests on his head his shiny khepresh on which the uraeus stays in the middle of his forehead like a third eye. (Here is a link of Tom’s outfit -> https://goopics.net/i/WLDoV)

And it is after a few seconds of total blank but mostly of delicious contemplation that (Y/N) comes back to her senses (again) and becomes aware of what is happening. Panicked, she throws herself at the Pharaoh’s feet.

‘I BEG YOUR PARDON, OH MY PHARA-‘

‘Calm down, (Y/N), no need to act like this!’ Laughs heartily the young king while looking at the trembling woman, forehead pressed against the ground. ‘Stand up, please.’

(Y/N) consents to his demand and begins to raise only her head but after another approving look of the Pharaoh, she stands on her two legs shaking the sand off her dress. She doesn’t dare to look at him in the eyes and her heart beats so hard it could jump out of her chest at any moment.

‘You are an emotional woman, (Y/N). Wait. Don’t move and close your eyes.’

What?

The Pharaoh moves his hand closer to (Y/N)’s face so she instinctively shuts her eyes, before she feels fingers brushing the remaining sand off of her forehand. When they gently slide on her cheek and disappear, she then opens her eyes and flutters her long eyelashes a few times.

‘There you go, you are as gorgeous as before.’

‘I-I, my Pharaoh Tutankha-‘

The aforesaid Tutankhamun interrupts her by putting his index on her plump lips.

‘I already told you to call me “Tom” when we are alone.’ Another quirkiness of his. ‘And please forget about “my king”, “my Pharaoh” and other honorific titles, it makes me feel so much older than I look like…’ whines “Tom”.

He is still a child.

‘… As you wish, “Tom”’ answers (Y/N) with a simple but humble nod, smiling. Then she asks ‘My father is already inside the Palace to display our textiles, shouldn’t you be there?’

‘I told Mother to do the job today because I wanted to get some fresh air…’ He sigh before adding ‘… At least I got the opportunity to be in your company.’

And here is the smooth Pharaoh again.

‘I’m sure your concubines would appreciate your presence even more if you join them…’

‘Pff, they are not really useful to me besides-‘

‘With all due respect, Tom, these kind of details don’t concern me. At all’ suddenly interrupts (Y/N), looking away with displeasing eyes just by the thought of him being… Intimate with ALL these DIFFERENT women.

Stay calm (Y/N), don’t lose it.

There is a heavy silence between them and Tom doesn’t waste time to break it. ‘Excuse me, (Y/N)… It didn’t mean to broach this subject…’ He corrects himself while scratching the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward and calling himself stupid in his head. And that is when (Y/N) could notice some strands of hair poking out his headgear. In fact she also notes that its way too forward on his forehead.

‘If you will allow me, Tom…’ She steps closer, stretching her arms out to finally grab his headgear between her head. ‘Your khepresh moved… I will arrange it.” And (Y/N) replaces it the right way. She decides not to mention about the adorable rebellious hair, choosing to gaze at them when he will not look.

Unconsciously, (Y/N)’s hands leave Tom’s headgear to slide and slowly caress his face, ending their way on his jawline.

Her hands are soft for a weaver… So soft, thoughts Tom, lost in his countless dreams and fantasies.

‘Thank you, (Y/N).’

When (Y/N) is aware of her action, she hurries to take away her hands but the young Pharaoh is faster and catches them back, his grasp firm but at the same time gentle.

‘These hands can create many beautiful textiles… I wonder what other wonderful things they could do for me…’

He brings her hands up to leave kisses on them. (Y/N)’s cheeks turn as red as she got sunburned. His eyes oh my his eyesstare deep in her soul, full of such desire that (Y/N) couldn’t think of something to say. She is like hypnotized, captivated by this man’s handsome figure and unctuous words.

‘C-Come on, Tom… Don’t say-’

‘Yes (Y/N), I insist… You are much more precious to me than you can imagine…’

Hands intertwined, they never look away. They stare hungrily at each other, like they could devour a one in front of them with the eyes. The only sound heard is the ibis flying over the gigantic garden to go to the Nile. How could (Y/N) even think about THE Pharaoh of Egypt himself being so interested in her, daughter of traders-weavers? And yet, Tom couldn’t look away or even think about doing so.

Is this a sign from Hathor, Goddess of love?

‘Follow me (Y/N), let’s have a walk around the oasis’ proposes Tom and before waiting for any answer, he drags her with him and goes down the stairs that leads to the Palace gardens. (Y/N) doesn’t even protest, she already knows that nothing can stop the young Pharaoh when he has an idea in mind.

Once they arrive in the oasis – that is a private place only reserved to the Royal Family – and walk for a bit, they stop in front of a huge pond liven up with tones of aquatic plants, fishes and birds. Rows of acacia and jasmine trees surround it, as if to hide the pond from curious eyes, but some sunrays continue to reflect on the clear water coming from the Nile nearby.

Astonished, (Y/N) gets close to the pond, full of life, while slowly letting loose on Tom’s grasp. He lets her go without a word and admires her in a loving way. He wishes he could keep this delightful image engraved in his mind until he dies: this woman with a goddess’ aura, the sun warming her impeccable skin and her hair dancing like her dress in rhythm with the wind and the leafs.

I want to make her mine.

Then (Y/N) turns and calls out to the Pharaoh ‘Tom, come see how beautiful the fishes are!’

In a snap (don’t you dare laugh at that word), the young king joins her at the water’s edge. He perfectly knows all species in the oasis, fishes included, but every second is a chance to be with the one he secretly loves so much. Once next to (Y/N), Tom wraps an arm around her hips and embraces her. Both of them, one head laying on the other, admire the exotic fishes shaking and splashing everywhere in the pond.

But in reality Tom and (Y/N) look at their reflection in the water. Both reflections, standing together, bodies interlacing lovingly.

And in a whisper Tom takes his chance ‘(Y/N), please, be my Queen.’

(Y/N) bits the inside of her cheek because it is like her dreams comes true, little by little but still is.

And stopping herself from laughing she answers ‘First, you get rid of the tones of kohl around your eyes and then of all your harem.’

‘Isn’t it more important to start with the girls and then the kohl?’

And (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself anymore and lets out a heartily laugh. Her answer is silly, his answer is also silly. But this entire situation is even sillier that (Y/N) could imagine. And Tom of course joins her and laughs.

‘No, first the kohl because there is too much of it and because I like looking at your eyes all natural.’

‘You’re right. Actually this thing is such a pain that my eyes get irritated at the end of the day’ huffs Tom blinking exaggeratedly his eyes at (Y/N) while approaching his face of hers, looking like a crazy man. (Y/N) doesn’t stop to laugh at him. And she impresses herself and dares to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, which gets him by surprise.

‘And then I want those girls out of here, and after we can discuss about this Queen thing’ murmurs (Y/N) still close to his lips.

‘Don’t tempt me (Y/N), I might get a bit too excited and do all that just for you’ adds seductively Tom brushing his lips against hers, while smirking.

‘Aren’t you the Pharaoh?’

‘I sure am the Pharaoh of Egypt, love…’

And all of the sudden Tom lifts (Y/N), making her leave her a surprised squeal, and carries her bride style. Now he can’t hold anymore and kisses her straight on the lips and they both savor this moment.

‘… And I will show you now.’

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[grither55]

The Princess and the Peasant - (An Azula Epic) - Chapter 25 - Night Terrors

Nearly one week later into the hunt for the Avatar.

It was late at night and Azula was sleeping comfortably in her emperor sized canopy bed.

Her personal chambers aboard the ship had been fit to her liking.

Meaning that it was decorated just as lavishly as back home within the palace.

The princess was sleeping quietly with a content smile upon her lips.

Only to be rudely torn from her sleep by a hesitant knock on her chamber door.

And just like that Azula’s eyes snapped open with her golden eyes agape in simply murderous wrath.

“Who is it!? You had better have a damn good reason for waking me up! If this doesn’t involve the Avatar I will…” Azula bellowed with a venomous bite to her voice only to trail off when she heard a soft cry behind her door.

The princess slapped a hand over her forehead while she groaned under her breath.

She knew well enough that there was only one person who would ever so much as consider coming to cry to her door.

And try as she might she felt a sliver of grudging concern to hear the girl making such miserable sobs.

Ever since she had first begun to express a romantic interest in the girl, she had known that it would only be a matter of time before she started trying to worm her way into her bed.

“A-Azula-sama? C-can I come in?” Elle stammered with tears in her eyes while she shifted on the other side of the door.

Before Azula knew it, she was sitting up with her lips pursing into a moody scowl while her bare feet touched upon her floor.

All the while grumbling under her breathe about how her girlfriend was a cry baby.

'I can't just leave her to cry at my door! If anyone sees her…people will start to think that Princess Azula coddles her handmaids!' The princess thought before she began stomping across her chamber floor.

The small girl stood in her night robes twiddling her thumbs with a saddened countenance.

Then the young girl almost jumped when the large door was thrown open.

And she found herself peering up at her master's beautifully angered visage.

For reasons that Azula couldn't explain she felt her anger begin to ebb the moment that she gazed down into Elle's almost traumatized amber eyes.

She couldn't help but wonder what got the girl so shaken up.

"Ugh! Just come in before someone sees you!" Azula hissed while she grasped the collar of the sniffling girl's shirt before pulling her in like a puppy that she was about to punish.

And then Elle noticeably flinched when the door slammed behind her caretaker all the while finding herself being pulled across the floor of the older girl's quarters.

"S-sumimasen…" The blonde-haired girl murmured while she listened to the tired woman grunt in annoyance above her.

"Would you quit your blubbering?" The princess spoke with an irate frown while she turned to glare down at her girlfriend's annoyingly depressed face.

Whereas she was usually able to halt the girl's crying with but one order.

Much to her increased aggravation her intended only began to cry even more!

"I-I am trying Azula-sama." Elle stuttered while Azula rolled her lovely golden eyes above her.

"You are not trying hard enough! Just get in the bed!" Azula grumbled with her arms folded over her breasts while the girl pitifully wiped at her wet eyes.

"Y-you are really going to let me lay in your bed?" The blonde-haired girl questioned in an awestruck voice while she gulped under her princess's utterly imposing death glare.

"I said get in the bed now!" The princess shouted with a foul tempered scowl on her features just when blue flames sparked from her palms while the tiny girl quivered under her stare.

"Yes Azula-sama! A-as you command!" Elle cried out before scurrying over the side of the massive bed while Azula observed her scampering with a pleased smirk.

"Now sit still! Don't you move another muscle until I get in the bed. You must always wait for me before you lay down. You will yield the entirety of the bed to me and only lay where I say you can lay." Azula ordered in a domineering voice while she stood looming over her fearfully seated pet.

"Y-yes master. I will never lay down without your permission!" The blonde-haired girl exclaimed with another sniffle while her master scrunched up her nose in distaste over her tears.

"Good girl." The princess sighed before seating herself beside the girl while she turned to peer down at her little girlfriend's saddened face.

"Will you hold me Azula-sama?" Elle requested in a shy voice while Azula sat above her with her lips curving downward in disapproval.

"If it will make you stop your bawling..." Azula grumbled before reaching out to pull the smaller girl into her arms just while Elle fell face first into her cleavage.

The princess peered down at the small girl seeking haven in her breasts before falling back onto her pillow in the center of her bed.

Only this time she had a young girl crying in her arms.

She glanced down at her petite girlfriend before sighing once again while she leaned over before placing a hand on the little blonde's side.

"How did you find your way to my chamber?" Azula asked in an aloof voice while she stared down at the girl as if she was a bother.

Never wanting to admit that the girl's tears struck a chord within her.

"I-I was wandering around looking for you and I bumped into Ty Lee. She…walked me here and ran off before you opened the door." The blonde-haired girl admitted in a quiet voice while the princess glanced down at her with her golden eyes narrowing in aggravation.

'How kind of you Ty Lee!' The princess thought with a growl before turning her gaze back down to her saddened pet.

"Did she now? So, what's your newest reason for crying like a baby?" Azula questioned in a haughty voice while she managed a scowl over her intended's tears.

Instead of getting a reply she just sighed when the girl released another torn-up cry.

"Did someone do something to you?" The princess demanded in a snarl while she brushed her well manicured fingernails against her little girlfriend's cheek.

Curious as it was. She intended to keep her promise to protect the girl.

She belonged to her after all…

"N-no." Elle murmured with her face burrowing into the opened chest of Azula's robes while the princess continued to hover over her in a way that comforted her.

"Then why are you crying my pet?" Azula purred in a silken voice before bending her neck to press her chin upon the top of her pretty pet's blonde head.

"I-I had a bad dream." The blonde-haired girl admitted timidly with another sniffle while the mighty princess stroked her cheek in a gentle manner that soothed her fears.

"About what little pet?" The princess cooed in a patient voice reserved for her little intended alone while she leaned down lower to peer into the girl's misty eyes.

"W-will you mark me again Azula-sama?" Elle requested with wetness on her fair cheeks while Azula managed to quirk a charming smile down at her.

To a woman like Azula who craved absolute control, those were very pleasing words to hear.

"I suppose I could. You crave my dominance. Don't you?" Azula spoke in an alluring voice while she pulled the smaller girl closer to her face.

"I…do." The blonde-haired girl answered in a mousy little voice while she began to cheer up when the princess pressed her nose above her brows before she snorted like a possessive dragon.

"What did you dream about?" The princess questioned with her nostrils releasing a puff of air while she glared down at her quivering girlfriend in a domineering fashion.

"My…m-mother's death." Elle confessed with a stutter while Azula glanced into her eyes with surprised golden eyes.

And then the princess recovered from her momentary shock before growling above her little intended's shivering brows.

"I see. But even so. The past cannot harm you now." Azula snarled with her palms cupping Elle's crying cheeks while she peered down at the girl's sorrowful face.

"She…died protecting me when I was five years old." The blonde-haired girl revealed in a far-off voice while the princess stared down at her with shocked eyes.

Even as cruel of a woman as Azula was. She knew better than utter any words of mockery about her girlfriend's long-gone mother.

Especially now that she knows that she gave her life for the girl under unknown circumstances.

"This is the first time that you've told me this." The princess remarked in an honest attempt at being nicer while she continued to peer into her handmaid's sad eyes.

"That's…because I don't like to talk about it…or even think about it." Elle mumbled before retreating into Azula's neck while she managed a small smile when the princess pulled her closer.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Azula inquired in an awkward voice while she trailed her fingers through her little girlfriend's hair.

"Do you remember how I told you…that while I don't know if there are any benders back in my homeland…that I have met a woman who has been gifted with powers?" The blonde-haired girl spoke softly much to the older girl's curiosity.

"I do. You've told me about this…Rieko several times now." The princess commented before sliding lower to exhale in her petite pet's eyes.

"Oh, there's more people with unique abilities than just Rieko. I have met a few others besides her." Elle answered in a timid voice while she delighted in how Azula's hot breath swept over her face.

The small girl released a soft giggle when her blonde hair was blown from her eyes by a light puff of air from the princess's exhaling nostrils.

As bizarre as it was…she really enjoyed it when her princess marked her!

She really did!

"A few? Such a high number." Azula taunted with a mocking snort before she released a dominant growl in Elle's meek little face.

"W-well in all fairness Azula-sama. It doesn't matter if it is a low number. Not if their quality trumps quantity." The blonde-haired girl insisted before quivering pleasantly when the princess pressed her forehead against hers.

"Foolish peasant. If and when I should ever lay my own eyes on any of these people, I will be the judge of their quality." The princess stated with a domineering snarl while she purposefully exhaled in her little girlfriend's intimidated face.

How she adored it when Elle trembled as if she were a Fire Goddess come to life.

"Y-yes Azula-sama." Elle muttered with a slight blush while Azula clutched her cheeks in a stern fashion before she growled above her nose once again.

"Continue your story little girlfriend." Azula sighed with her crimson lips still blowing warm air in Elle's eyes while she smiled down at her petite girlfriend.

"O-oh princess…I am so happy to be yours." The blonde-haired girl spoke in a bashful voice while her heart raced when the princess released a deep growl with hot air tickling against her cheek.

All the while Azula lay with her controlling golden eyes literally pressing into her own pleasantly widened amber eyes.

"And I am pleased to have you all too myself." The princess replied with a suave smirk while she continued to stroke her handmaid's soft golden locks.

The small girl peered up at the princess with a calmer countenance before chewing on her lip while she mulled over how to word what she went through.

"When I was littler. There was…a child hunt for anyone thought to be gifted with powers." Elle admitted in a return to a more somber voice while Azula listened with taken aback golden eyes.

That…was not what she had been expecting the girl to say.

"My family got caught up in the midst of it all. They tried to take me away…and my m-mother was wounded protecting me. I…tried to carry her on my shoulder but I was too weak. She…told me to run and find my father. And so, I ran…and my mother was killed. Soon after that…I found my father's dead body…they killed him as well." The blonde-haired girl explained in a solemn voice with a tear streaming down her cheek while the princess listened in as speechless silence.

Once more Azula found herself mulling over how there was more to Elle than meets the eye.

The girl carries herself as simple.

But now she was beginning to think that Elle did so as a façade to run away from the past.

"M-my mother died for me and I couldn't make it in time to help my father. I-I am just a dud. There's nothing special about me." Elle concluded in a broken voice while tried to avoid meeting Azula's displeased golden gaze.

Azula's lips creased into a scowl before leaning in stare into Elle's wettened eyes with her breath sweeping over her young companion's fair skin.

"Are you calling your princess a dud?" Azula demanded in a frigid voice while she glared directly into Elle's surprised little eyes.

"What? No Azula-sama!" The blonde-haired girl cried out in a still fretful voice before sinking into the princess's protective hold while warm air continued to tickle her cheek.

"I think you are! Because you dare to imply that I, Princess Azula would be interested in a dud! And I will not tolerate such an insult!" The princess barked in her little girlfriend's intimidated face before pulling the girl deeper into her pillow.

"S-sumimasen Azula-sama! Sumimasen!" Elle exclaimed with a revived smile reappearing back on her lips while Azula stroked the back of her head.

"You had better be girl! Because if you're a dud than so am I! And I am most certainly not a dud." Azula scoffed in a haughty voice before leaning in to bump foreheads with her emotional companion.

"Arigatou gozaimasu…" The blonde-haired girl mumbled timidly while she turned red when their foreheads connected in a gentle embrace.

All the while she felt the princess's fingertip brush her tears from her eyes while she smiled back up into the older girl's stern eyes.

"That's my girl. Now worry no more about duds…" The princess trailed off with a charmingly smile before patting her pet atop her golden head.

"Yes Azula-sama." Elle whined with a calmed smile while she lay peering back into Azula's controlling golden eyes.

"You are a needy little thing…but you are my needy little thing." Azula remarked with a sigh while she tenderly held the girl's forehead to her own.

"That's so! I am Her Highness's girl!" The blonde-haired girl chirped with a blush while strong hands pulled her closer.

Just when her face was sternly smashed even deeper into the princess's own while she shivered in delight when the woman released another imposing growl.

"How many times must I mark you before you understand that you belong to me?" The princess commented with her eyes narrowing into a terrifying stare while her little handmaid trembled in the palms of her hands.

"M-mark me as many times as you see fit Azula-sama. I-I don't mind!" Elle stuttered with a sunny smile while she blushed when Azula leaned in to snarl against her cheek.

"I like that answer…such a good submissive." Azula spoke with another dominant snort that blew Elle's blonde tresses from her little amber eyes.

"O-oh Azula-sama…" The blonde-haired girl swooned in a lovesick voice while she began to smile brightly when the princess rubbed her forehead against her own.

"I own you." The princess hissed with her golden eyes agape in a display of absolute dominance while her little girlfriend lay submissively in her embrace.

"You own me. You are my master…my dominant." Elle agreed with a bashful smile while strong arms wrapped around her small back.

"I have laid claim to you! You are now mine now girl!" Azula bellowed without warning in Elle's shaking face before snorting loudly against her pet's lovely cheek once more.

"I-I am yours Azula-sama!" The blonde-haired girl cried out before blushing adorably when the princess tenderly kissed her upon her forehead.

The teenager sunk into the plush pillow with her heart racing as fast as can be while the princess continued to gently brush her fingers through her hair.

"Humph. Damn right you are." The princess grumbled with her lips still gently pressing into her little handmaid's forehead while the young girl smiled serenely in her arms.

"M-my princess right." Elle mumbled in a lovelorn fashion before laughing sweetly when Azula kissed her upon the nose.

"Now I trust that you are through crying for the night?" Azula sighed with her lips softly brushing against the fair skin that was her little handmaid's nose.

"Yes Azula-sama. I won't cry anymore…because I know that you will protect me." The blonde-haired girl assured in a timidly spoken voice while the princess's muscular arms continued to crush her in a mighty embrace.

"That I will my pet. That I will." The princess cooed in a honeyed voice before patting her blushing pet atop her little head.

"My alpha…" Elle whined in a puppylike voice before scooting to cuddle in her princess's bosom only to squeak in surprise when Azula sternly shoved her face first into her soft breasts.

"You seek my breasts is that right? So be it." Azula remarked with her hands clamping down on the back of Elle's head while she shoved her little girlfriend's face in between her breasts.

"A-Azula-sama." The blonde-haired girl mewled with her face pressing into her princess's plush bosom.

"Mine." The princess growled out in a possessive voice while she crushed her little intended into her open cleavage.

"I…belong to you princess." Elle spoke with a gentle smile before laying her head upon a comfortable breast.

And so, the young girl lay in the powerful princess's arms while long fingertips danced through her golden hair.

While she began to yawn in a sleepy manner while the older female continued to stare down at her with a softened stare.

And with that Azula managed a content sigh all the while brushing her fingers through the girl's hair.

Such a lovely little dear…

And she had her all to herself.

"Azula-sama?" The blonde-haired girl requested in a muffled voice only to yawn in mid speech.

"What is it now Elle?" Azula questioned in stern voice with her palms still holding Elle into her warm chest.

"I am overjoyed that you find me snuggable." Elle answered with another noisy yawn while she listened to Azula scoff above her.

"Only marginally." The princess snorted in her usual pompous voice while she began to close her eyes at long last.

"That's enough for me. This is all I need." The blonde-haired girl murmured in a sleepy voice while she felt the princess's strong arms pull her in.

"Go to sleep now. Or I will punish you." Azula declared with a smile on her lips while she stroked her little intended's blonde locks.

"Oyasumi nasai Azula-sama." Elle whispered before closing her eyes while Azula never released her grip on the back of her head.

"Oyasumi nasai Elle." The princess responded with her lips curving into a fond grin while the sound of the girl breathing serenely flowed into her ears.

With her arms tightly wrapped around her favorite handmaid she began to drift off once more into a peaceful sleep.

Very soon Azula was sleeping with a content smile while she protectively held Elle into her chest.

And all throughout the night the princess never once released the girl from her possessive grip.

And whenever Elle began to fearfully murmur in her sleep Azula would subconsciously press down upon the back of her little head.

And with that the teenager's cries were effectively silenced by her princess's strong embrace.

The princess and the peasant had become closer than they could have ever predicted.

Their bond was already an unbreakable one.

One that was strong enough to overcome space and time itself.

And whatever else may come.

[loveearned]

tag drop !

[fieryheartsbeating]

HENWELL COLLEGE AU - SHE BY DODIE ft. @mxwells

[readbeneaththelines]

Just The Person I Need Pt. 4

cr to gif owner

JiYong let his lungs empty slowly, a long drawn out breath. His palms were moist with sweat and he could feel small droplets trickle down his back. While he was in the store, he felt an unnerving sensation that he was being watched. He looked slowly around, finally looking outside the shop, to find you staring at him. He could tell you weren’t trying to get his attention but, in fact, was outright staring at him. You didn’t move as he waved, then decided to rap at the window. The look of fear mixed with embarrassment brought a smile to his face. Settling on going outside to talk, you once again collided bodies. He had felt the rush of electricity course through him when your bodies touched, but leaving him a tad to quick for his liking. When eyes finally met, he was enraptured, Y/E/C eyes were wide and filled with, what was it? Desire, lust, need, fear? He couldn’t tell, but it held his attention far longer than it should. He could feel his body tensing, heat filling his entire being. He had to leave before he said or did something out of character for him. 

He stopped short of rounding the corner, looking back in your direction to make sure you were still safe. He noticed a dazed stagger, wondering if you were going to be okay on your own. Shaking his head rapidly, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could not let a woman affect him like that. He had so many other things to focus on, a woman would only cause more distraction than good. His resolve freshly renewed, he walked to his car and climbed in the driver’s seat. Maybe he would go home the long route, just to make sure you were still walking safely in the direction you had headed. Starting the engine, it’s purr reminded him of other sounds, naughty sounds, that escaped womens’ lips. Running his hands down his face, he grabbed the steering wheel and set off. When he rounded the curve, there you were, standing at the light waiting to cross. /you still had that same dazed look in your eyes, a blushed hue still rosy on your cheeks. He knew he had to get home, so reluctantly he passed through the light, his head turning slightly as he passed to take your visage in one last time.

Loud music and even louder voices echoed off the walls of the bar. Tables were full of men and women either trying to hook-up, relax after a long day, or forget about everything. You just needed to forget about the man you kept literally running into. Siding up to the bar, you order a bottle of Soju. You turn to watch the people, trying to read their body language. The table to the left has some young students sitting around the small space. One guy is eyeing the young girl to his left, desire and want evident in his burning eyes. The young girl, though, doesn’t seem to know he even exists, as she chatters away with another young lady beside her. 

Poor guy, you aren’t getting any tonight. Might as well give up now while you still have your dignity. 

You snicker at the thought that crosses your mind. Grabbing the bottle and Soju glass, you head to an empty table at the back of the bar, safe and secluded. Settling in the booth, your thoughts runaway as you picture the well-groomed Mr. Kwon. Closing your eyes as you lean your head against the back of the seat, images of his eyes flash behind closed lids. There was something hidden in his, but what it was, you couldn’t tell. Running still shaky hands through your hair, your resigned to forget about him, and taking the bottle, poured your first of several drinks for the night. 

Once you had chatted with colleagues in the cramped space,  you decided to head out for the night. You didn’t want to go back to the Kim’s since you were a little over the tipsy limit. Instead, you opted for a quaint hostel nearby. You stretched out across the bed, the only light was that of the street lights outside the window. Pulling a pillow under your head and drawing the thick blanket over yourself, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep. The last thing you remembered were brown and honey speckled eyes staring at you, half-lidded and full of mystery.

You awoke to the sound of the alarm chiming from your phone next to the bed. Sitting up and stretching, you felt her mild hangover. You reached in your satchel and grabbed something for pain and the outfit you carried for the ‘just in case’ scenarios. Walking down the hallway to the hostel’s shared bathroom, you were thankful everyone was either still asleep or already gone for the morning. Turning the shower to the highest temperature setting, you stepped in and allowed the hot water to wash over you. There were no dreams last night, of any kind. Thankfully, you muttered to yourself. After staying in there well past the water cooling down, you reluctantly stepped out and grabbed a towel. Drying off and dressing, you wrapped your hair in the towel and padded back to the room. She had a missed call from Ha-eun, who had instead left a text. You were going to meet up at the same coffee shop as last night for a quick bite before heading out to visit probably every shop within a fifty mile radius. You hurriedly brushed still damp hair then applied some gloss to your lips and headed out the door. The morning was cool and refreshing, taking the still warm feel of your skin down a few degrees.

Ha-eun plopped down, her bright smile still radiant and exuding happy blissfulness. You couldn’t help but laugh at her, reveling in the joy that was flowing around her. After a quick cup of coffee and a bagel, the two of you headed off, ready to spend the day together.

JiYong pulled up in front of his home, leaving the Audi R8, parked beside the fountain. Grabbing the bags from the truck, he carefully unlocked the door and tiptoed inside. His butler, Sang-hoon, was coming down the stairway.

“Good evening Mr. Kwon. I hope you’ve had a pleasant day.” Sang-hoon spoke as he bowed and extended his arm for JiYong’s jacket.

“Good evening Sang-hoon. Yes, I had a pretty pleasant day if I do say so myself. Why don’t you retire for the night, I’m just going to head to my office and catch up on some work. I will be a while, so there is no need for you to stay up.” He watched as Sang-hoon straightened and smiled. His butler bowed again, then stood and turned around, heading to the servant quarters. JiYong waited until he was out of sight and heard the bedroom door open and close before heading to his office. Seated in the cool leather chair, he laced his finger together and rested his forehead against them. He could not get you out of his brain. Your hair hair falling across one shoulder, the pink tint to your cheeks, the soft looking lips slightly parted as you were staring at him. The way you swayed when you walked, a little bounce in your step. It had been a long time since he had a woman in his bed, let alone in his life. He didn’t have time before the kids came, and now he especially didn’t have time for dating. But something about you moved him deep within. Maybe it was the way you smiled, or the way you looked with a child on your hip. Was it the motherly aspect he recognized or was it that you looked like you would give him beautiful children.

 Yah, Ji, get these ideas out of your head. She is a nanny for heaven’s sake, for one of your friends. You need to stop this now, man, and fast.

Sighing heavily, he straightened himself in the chair and pulled a towering stack of papers to set in front of him. It was going to be a long night, and the kids will be up early more than likely. He had to find some help, and quick, before he burned his candle completely out. Without even a second passing, he remembered the Kims. He needed a nanny.

Of course, you idiot. Why think of that just now? You know why. Because of her.

He made a mental note to call Mr. Kim in the morning to discuss his options. Three hours later, he was crawling into bed. His last thoughts were of Y/E/C eyes looking up at him through lashes.

The next morning, he was awakened by the soft sounds of little feet running across his bedroom floor and stifled giggles. Keeping his eyes closed, he prepared for the oncoming attack. Two little bodies leapt onto the massive bed, piling on top of him and trying to tickle him. Swiftly he wrapped his arms around both of them.

“Gotcha! Now what are you going to do?” his voice was still scratchy from sleep, making him sound a little more menacing than anticipated.

Peals of laughter reverberated around the room. He took several minutes to finally get them calmed down enough, pulling his down blanket over them and placing his pillows behind them, he flicked the seventy-two inch TV on. Cartoons blared as he showered and got dressed in the walk-in closet. Freshly shaven and dressed for the day, he came to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What do you two want to do today? I have to go to work for a little while, but Halmeoni is coming to spend some time with you. What you would like to do with her today?” 

“Can we go to the park or zoo?” Mi-sun asked in her little soft voice.

“I want to go to for ice cream or maybe the arcade.” Se-jun spoke up, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Okay, I will call her on my way to work and let her know. Until she gets here, you can both watch TV and if you get hungry, Ms. Soo-Mi will get your breakfast. Now please be good for everyone while I am away. Promise.” He snapped to get get their full attention. Both little heads emphatically nodded yes. They each gave him a hug before he walked out. This was his life now, and he can’t really remember what it was like just two short, but yet somehow very long, months ago.

When he arrived at his office, he was already worn out. The lack of good sleep was starting to catch up to him. Pulling the Audi into his reserved spot, he gathered his briefcase and suit jacket from the trunk.  Pressing the first floor button, Ms. Lee was sitting at the reception desk, reddish brown hair pulled into a sophisticated tight bun. She rose and bowed as he neared.

“Good morning, Mr. Kwon. How are you today?” her tone was light yet perky.

“Doing fairly good this morning, and how are you?” he sounded short, but wasn’t meaning to.

“Doing well, thank you. You have a visitor awaiting you in the upstairs lobby. He arrived approximately ten minutes ago, said he would be happy to wait for you”. She reached down to her desk, presenting him with the morning paper as he walked by. With a quick ‘thank you’,  JiYong proceeded to the vast staircase at the rear of the building. He stopped short of opening his office double doors. Taking in a deep breath, he straightened his jacket and buttoned it closed. Clearing his throat, he opened the doors, coming face to face with his visitor, Mr. Mueller.

Mr. Mueller was the owner of a business conglomerate in Germany. He had been in talks with JiYong on several occasions, trying to form a merger of both their companies. He had refused every time, informing Mr. Mueller that he wanted to keep his company local. He grew up here and always considered his company as part of his home city. KwonHyung Inc. provided jobs for many of the citizens and hosted several fundraisers each year to provide assistance to the elderly, local hospitals, and children's organizations. He had explained to Mr. Mueller that keeping the company seeded in South Korea was necessary for not only the country as a whole, but specifically his hometown. Seeing that Mr. Mueller was a persistent man, JiYong was always prepared for his visits.

“Good morning, Mr. Mueller, what brings you to South Korea?” his tone verged on annoyance with hints of sarcasm and loathing.

“Ah, good morning Mr. Kwon! I have come to pay many a visit this time. Wanted to stop by and say hello to you.” His German accent was thick, almost making it hard for JiYong to understand him.

“Well then, I am flattered that you thought of me. Is there anything I can get for you? Coffee, water, or some hot tea?” the polite gesture was mainly for formalities, as JiYong hoped he wouldn’t take him up on the offer.

“Ah, not this time, Mr. Kwon. I was wondering though, if you had given anymore consideration to my last offer? I am hoping that you have.” Mr. Mueller was standing a bit straighter, matching JiYong in height, and standing in very close proximity to him. 

“Again, I must tell you that I do not plan on merging our companies. Not now, nor in the future. I appreciate that you think my company is a worthy ally, but I still refuse your offer. Thank you for stopping by, it was nice seeing you again. I am fairly busy and I must get to work, allow me to see you out”. 

Mr. Mueller stood firm in his spot, irritating Ji-hoon beyond measure. Both men stood their ground, neither taking the first step in breaking away. The tension in the room was escalating, Ji-hoon sensing his heart rate speeding up and his breathing become less steady. Mr. Mueller lowered his lids into a piercing stare, daring him to make a move.

“Mr. Kwon, I am a very powerful man with many companies under my thumb. When I want something, I go after it until I obtain it. I will have this merger, sooner or later.”  the authoritative tone was meant to scare JiYong. The thing was, he did not scare easily and when confronted, he could be just as alarming as Mr. Mueller.

“What I don’t think you understand, here, is the fact that I too am a very powerful man. I have nearly all of South Korea’s businesses under my own thumb. You will never have this merger, not now and not ever. If you attempt to visit my wonderful country again, I have ways of making sure you never step foot on this soil again. That, Mr. Mueller, is just how powerful I am. Now please, see yourself out cordially, or I can have you escorted directly to the airport and onto the next flight out.” 

JiYong stood firm, refusing to let his guard down. Mr. Mueller turned on his heel and slowly walked towards the doors. Reaching for the handle, but not opening them, he turned back around.

“Mr. Kwon, I assure you that one day you will mess up and you will need rescuing, at that moment it will be me that takes the reins from your hands. I will gladly see myself out”. With those words he was out the door, the weight of them bringing them to a close with a resounding thud.

@beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi i @trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570

@seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17

@kingsuckjin

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch4

Focus

Welcome back, everyone!!! I am so, so sorry this took so dang long. I wanted this chapter to cover so much and yet it feels like nothing happens at all, a tough one to nail down. Anyway! Hope you enjoy!

Word count - 4,415

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

__________________

---Reader---

The rest of your weekend passed uneventfully. Once V was stable, he didn’t have any further issues and you were able to catch up on tedious housework. You kept rehashing his words in your mind, dissecting every possible meaning until you could barely see straight.

After so many years of boredom, it was a delight to have the murderous artist in your care. Staying engaged had always been a struggle for you, even as a child. Most situations and people simply didn’t hold your interest. It wasn’t always easy to hide, but you managed most of the time.

You knew from experience what it cost if you failed.

Don’t think about that. There’s no point.

You sighed and set down your bag, reaching over to power up the CPU on your desk. Time to get to work. It was Monday, so your first patient would be Kelly Williams.

A classic case of bipolar disorder, the poor woman had been stuck in a major depressive episode for three months. She was so predictable you probably could have written up your notes for the session before she even arrived, but you followed protocol and checked your email as you waited for Kevin to deliver her anyway.

You minimized the browser as she shuffled in, eyes downcast and limp hair hiding her frown. You pursed your lips as she settled on the couch with a morose sigh. Kevin gave you a nod and left, clicking the door closed behind him.

“Hello, Kelly. How are you feeling today?” you began.

I’d bet my next paycheck I know her answer.

Her sad grey eyes lifted to meet yours. “Hanging in there.”

Yep. This is going to be a long hour.

You covered all the same topics, reviewing her trauma and possible causes for her illness. Diligent notes filled your notepad, but the words didn’t stick in your mind. It might be worth shifting Kelly to another doctor, considering how little you cared about her treatment. Dr. Malphas wouldn’t be happy, but he’d understand. You only wanted to make sure she was receiving the care she needed, right?

A soft knock interrupted your musings as Kevin returned. You said your goodbyes and promised your patient some menial reward, nothing important but something that would be meaningful to her.

The moment the door closed, you released a deep sigh. Honestly, there were only two or three patients here that interested you. A man with detailed visions of the future that occasionally came true, a woman who spoke a language of her own creation, and your favorite murderous artist. The rest you could deal with in your sleep.

On that note, who’s next?

Jacob Miller. The infamous serial killer who targeted women that resembled his mother. How utterly mundane.

It didn’t surprise you to realize how little the well-known madman interested you. His spree of kills thrilled and horrified the state of Utah for months until he was caught, all from a scrap of fiber he’d missed when disposing of one of his victims.

But his profile was quite basic. A broken home, absentee father and disciplinarian mother. Run of the mill patterns of animal abuse and rejection from potential sexual partners, the same fuel that brought about the likes of numerous big names. There was nothing new or unique about him.

As Kevin brought Jacob in, you tried not to let your eyes glaze over in disinterest.

“Good morning, Jacob.”

“Hello, Dr. Waras. How was your weekend?” the twisted man replied.

You pursed your lips. His manners belied a twisted core. “Nothing special, but we’re here to talk about you.”

His lips twisted into a dark grin. The man was an arrogant prick, always happy to talk about himself. Sometimes you wondered how he managed to avoid death row, but it wasn’t your problem.

“What do you want to know, Doctor?”

About you? Nothing.

“Let’s talk about your childhood a bit more,” you said instead.

---V---

The ceiling truly was a monstrosity. He’d been staring at it for hours, trying to pinpoint exactly what about its beige visage disturbed him so much, and he thought he finally had it figured out.

It was the bumps.

Little dapplings of the plaster, random and unintentional. As if whomever built the room had no idea patients would spend almost all their waking hours staring at their work. A few sections resembled faces or vague outlines of familiar objects, but the majority was an expanse of rough mediocrity.

He wanted to splash blood across it in sweeping arcs of color, break the horrible monotony with crimson streaks of life.

At this point, he’d settle for sidewalk chalk.

Someone’s coming.

The artist tuned to the hallway and sure enough, the familiar scuffle of Kevin’s feet approached. It must be time for his meeting with you and he smirked. What perfect timing.

Remember the plan.

“Yes, I’m perfectly aware,” he replied to the insistent tone rattling in his skull.

He arranged his features in a neutral expression, feigning indifference as the heavy door creaked open. Kevin’s signature shuffle came closer and the strap at his left arm loosened.

“Time for therapy,” the orderly informed him.

He resisted the urge to strangle the bumbling idiot as his arm regained its freedom. “Wonderful.”

Moments later, the artist stood beside Kevin rubbing his wrists and cracking his neck. Someday he would tear the man apart for stealing his autonomy, but not today. Today, he needed to gain an ally.

“So… Kevin. How did you end up here?”

Watery brown eyes blinked at him in confusion. The artist’s fingers twitched.

Don’t do it…

He clenched his hands. Kevin’s day would come and what a delight it would be…

“I… uh… I transferred from the hospital a few years back.”

V hummed and held his hands forward for the damned cuffs. They clicked into place as he replied, “Fascinating. Do you enjoy the work?”

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s all right, I guess. Gets weird now and then.”

He followed Kevin into the hallway, white soles squeaking on the linoleum. Nine doors identical to his own dotted the walls, useful information for later. Clever emerald eyes paid special attention to where the guard’s hand went to buzz them through to the offices.

“You’ll have to tell me some of your more interesting stories sometime,” he replied with a convincing twist of his lips. Child’s play.

Kevin grunted and gestured forward, inviting V to lead the way. “We’ll see.”

The thick door to your office already stood open, welcoming him in like an honored guest. He smirked as you nodded at Kevin and dutifully cooperated as the man latched him to the wall. You looked lovely, as you always did. Pen tucked behind your ear, a hint of excitement in your eyes.

“Thanks, Kevin. See you in an hour,” you said, dismissing the man.

And then there were two…

Stay focused. You’ll need your wits for what’s to come.

You offered him a smile as the door clicked shut. He mirrored it with ease.

“So, V. How are you feeling after last week? I haven’t seen you since your episode.”

He hummed and leaned back, settling his weight onto the couch. It was impossible not to indulge his aching body in the soft cushions after the maddening position he’d been stuck in all day.

“Truthfully, I’m bored. One can only stare at the same patch of ceiling for so long before it grows tedious.”

You tapped your pen against pursed lips. How lovely you’d look in red…

Focus.

“I can definitely understand that. I may be able to help, if you’re interested,” you replied.

There was no hiding the curiosity in his eyes, nor did he bother trying. You were too smart for that. “Do tell.”

“I can give you an assessment, and if it goes well you might be cleared to be left unrestrained. All you have to do is answer a few questions and be honest.”

He smirked. How adorable. “I’m ready when you are.”

You picked up a clipboard and read the first question aloud. “You find a lost young boy one day, and he appears to have stolen property. Would you A, hug and reassure him; B, take the property by force and leave him there as punishment; C, pick his pocket and leave him to his fate; or D, lead him home and call the authorities?”

He almost laughed. The entire basis of the question was absurd; what action he took depended on what the stolen property was. Why bother taking the item if it wasn’t something that appealed to him? Not to mention the lack of a ‘keep walking’ option.

“A,” he said. You made a note and continued.

None of the following questions were any better, all based on faulty logic or lacking the detail needed to truly make a decision. He chose his answers based on what he imagined his mother would do, using her kindness and empathy as a model for normal behavior. With each response, you marked your sheet and nodded approvingly.

“Okay, last question. Your house is on fire. What do you save on your way out? A, your little brother; B, your prized collection of baseball cards; C, whatever clothing you can carry; or D, the family photo album? Assume that anything not chosen is destroyed.”

For heaven’s sakes, only an imbecile would fail this.

“A, of course.”

You made a final mark and your brows furrowed as you tallied his answers. He occupied himself with images of you with a blade to Kevin’s flabby throat, grinning as you slashed it open. Blood would stain every inch of your clothing; never would you look so beautiful.

“Interesting… According to this, you shouldn’t even be here, let alone in high secure,” you began. Suspicion bloomed in your gaze as you met his eyes. “You weren’t being truthful, were you?”

No shit, Sherlock!

He gritted his teeth to keep from shouting at Griffon, searching for the right words. How had he missed this, how could he be so foolish as to expect you to believe a good result?

Take it again. As many times as it takes.

He had to take it another three times before you surrendered with a deep sigh. Not once did his answers change.

“I’ll have to clear it with Dr. Malphas, but I can’t justify stopping you.”

He smirked. Victory was sweet, indeed. Even this tiny increase to his freedom would do wonders for his plans, not to mention he’d no longer need to bother Kevin for a bathroom trip to indulge himself. It didn’t matter that there was a camera in his room, watching his every move. He knew where it was, it would be easy enough to hide his activities from its view.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said. A tiny smile graced your lips at his gratitude. Progress.

“Just doing my job. Now, let’s get back on track. Do you remember anything from last week?”

He brought his legs onto the couch, drawing his knees to his chin as was his preference. “Fragments.”

Ink marked his answer on your notepad and he almost growled in jealousy. His fingers itched to create, to design and defile. It took all his will power to remain seated and keep his hands from reaching for the pen. The sketches last week had left him needy and craving more time to hone his craft, the pull growing stronger with every reminder.

“Would you care to elaborate?” you asked.

He didn’t bother to consider the ramifications as he opened his mouth. The need was too strong. “I’ll tell you about it if you give me a pen and paper.”

You idiot! Now you appear weak, willing to succumb to her will if she only throws you a treat. What are you, a dog?!

He flinched. Vergil had a point; he should have been more careful. Somehow, he needed to shift the scales back in his favor, or at least back to equality. To let this stand would be unacceptable. But how?

The rumble of an opening drawer stole his attention as you withdrew the same hunk of charcoal he used before. A clipboard with several sheets of fresh paper occupied your other hand and his eyes glittered in excitement as you handed them over. He licked his lips and quivered in anticipation, considering his options and refining several ideas.

“May I make a request?”

His gaze shot to yours. A request? So, you wanted to see more of his work. It fed his ego and he nearly purred at the image of you begging him to draw you, dripping in viscous blood after your first kill.

“I cannot stop you,” he said. It wouldn’t do to betray his thoughts, not yet. Caution was a worthy ally.

“Can you draw Griffon, or Vergil? I’m curious what they look like,” you replied.

Don’t you dare!

Speak for yourself, asshat! You do your thing, Van Gogh.

Lips twisting in amusement, he nodded and drew the first line. Griffon was always interesting to draw, though he still hadn’t managed to get his eyes right. Something about the triple-iris was irritatingly difficult to capture. Not to mention how much he hated feathers.

Still. An enjoyable challenge.

“So, tell me about last week.”

Now’s your chance. Do not waste it.

The artist hummed in acknowledgement, eyes locked on his work. He kept his hand elevated so as not to smudge the charcoal unintentionally, his fingers swiping across the pristine page to leave shadowy streaks behind. But how to utilize this opportunity? How best to regain his control of the situation?

Perhaps a quid pro quo?

He smirked and lifted his eyes. You were staring at him. “I seem to be having trouble remembering. Maybe you can jog my memory?”

You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes. He didn’t bother trying to hide his Cheshire-like glee. He had you, how could you possibly refuse him?

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?”

He leaned back, casually adding another series of marks to his artwork as if your suspicion meant nothing to him, as if he didn’t care if you went along with his ideas. “I’m suggesting, Doctor, that you provide me with incentive to share.”

“Such as…?”

“For now? Blue.”

You stared at him as if he were an alien. “You want… blue?”

“I cannot do Griffon justice without the proper color,” he replied with a teasing smirk.

An easy trade, a small token to get you used to the idea. What harm could there be in allowing him more colors to use in your own office? It was a simple request, one not worth refusing and as you reached for your drawer, he congratulated himself for his cleverness.

“I don’t think I have any blue pens or anything, let’s see…”

“I’ll make do with whatever you have available,” he replied as you rummaged.

The drawer looked moderately chaotic, as if you put some effort into keeping it organized but you didn’t care enough to maintain it. Post its and paperclips were strewn about, pens and highlighters shoved in the corner. A thumb drive resided amongst a collection of pins.

A single flash of sapphire drew his gaze. Your delicious fingertips hesitated at the item, but you pulled it out a moment later as nothing else offered itself up. He almost laughed as you held it out to him.

This will be interesting to work with.

A makeup compact, full of blue powder. The color was dark and rich, serendipitously close to the exact shade of the demonic bird.

“This is all I’ve got,” you murmured.

The artist schooled his features into a look of disappointment, playing down his excitement as he accepted the small container. “It will suffice.”

He tested the substance on a fresh sheet of paper, swiping it across with the tip of his thumb. Discerning emerald eyes judged the depth of the hue, analyzing how much he’d need to achieve the proper coloration. If he layered it with the charcoal, it might just work.

You cleared your throat as he began, pen held at the ready for him to speak. That’s right, he was expected to describe last week in exchange. He’d nearly forgotten. Visions ricocheted in his mind, echoes of the night that became his ruin. He didn’t remember everything, but there was enough to recognize the memory. Enough to relive the delightful experience.

But it wouldn’t do to share every detail with you. He chose his words with care, selecting a few key details and adding meaningless drivel for good measure. The day may come when he recounted every moment, but you were nowhere near ready.

“I remember red, a great deal of it. Someone was screaming, but I don’t recall why. Yellow walls and a rhododendron.”

He paused to let you note his every word, swirling blue across the black outline of feathers. The sparkles were a bit much, but he couldn’t do anything to fix that. By the time the scratching of your pen ceased, he was almost finished.

“That sounds intense. Did it feel like a dream or more like a memory?”

He paused, wondering how far he could press you today. It was worth a try; even if you refused it would help him regain a position of strength.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any purple, would you?”

Your eyes sparkled. A slight twist of your pink lips was all the confirmation he needed that you knew what he was up to and you didn’t even glance at your desk before you responded.

“I’m afraid not.”

Despite the setback, he couldn’t help but smirk. There was something odd about you, and every time he interacted with you it became clearer. You got the same amusement from the mental battle as he did, the same thrill every time you scored a point. The same rush of fascination and curiosity.

You were more than just another sheep.

All he needed to do was draw out the wolf.

“That’s a shame, Y/N,” he purred. Your chair squeaked as you shifted.

A soft knock on the door signaled the end of your hour with him. He sighed and handed you the clipboard, his drawing of Griffon’s proud flight on full display. Your eyes widened, a slight inhale escaping your lips that would fuel his fantasies for days to come.

“So that’s Griffon?”

He nodded as the door opened and Kevin approached, handing you the makeup and charcoal. It pained him to surrender the supplies, but this way you didn’t have to ask. A subtle difference, but one that reinforced his autonomy instead of your control over his life.

But there was one last gesture he wanted to make.

The moment Kevin freed his hands, he extended one to you with a soft smirk. The orderly’s meaty fist wrapped around his wrist and he didn��t fight back, content to wait for your response.

Suspicion tinted your eyes, mixing with interest as he parted his lips.

“I wanted to thank you, Doctor. I look forward to sleeping unrestrained tonight.”

You shared a glance with the orderly and he let go. The urge to strangle the man for his interference was powerful, but he ignored it. In due time, the man would pay. For now, let him imagine he had won. Far more interesting was your reaction.

You looked startled, but not fearful. More intrigued than anything else.

Perfect.

The same hand he licked the first time he met you clasped his own, shaking it in a gesture of mutual respect. You didn’t need to know his true goal; to feel your skin and memorize its texture. The knowledge would add depth to his fantasies and he focused on the smooth warmth, hungry for every detail he could glean from such brief contact.

The hands of one who works indoors…

He brushed his index finger across your wrist as you pulled back, a more intimate touch not immediately apparent to the accursed third party watching his every move. The barest twitch of your fingers revealed your awareness of his boldness, but you didn’t say a word. Another victory, then.

“Until tomorrow,” he murmured.

---Reader---

The heavy door clicked shut and you released a deep breath. Your heart was pounding, mind consumed with the artist’s simple caress. Those same hands that were capable of such artistry had taken at least three lives; you couldn’t afford to forget how dangerous he was. The mind games, the trickery and bargaining, none of it mattered if you lost your focus.

What is my focus?

You leaned back and pursed your lips. In broad terms, your goal with other patients was to help them reach a point where their ability to function in normal society was no longer impaired. If they weren’t capable of that much, you were meant to guide them to stability so they could at least have appropriate quality of life.

To envision V in normal society was close to impossible. You couldn’t picture him in a suit, sitting at a cubicle like ordinary folks. Imagining him on a commute was anathema; with a family, unthinkable. The man was an outlier and no amount of treatment would change that.

So how can I help him?

You growled in frustration and rubbed your eyes. The flesh he touched still tingled, the nerves jangling with odd enthusiasm. It made no sense; the man was a murderer and here you sat like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Absurdity. You were smarter than this, better than this.

This isn’t a comic book or some crappy romance novel. Life doesn’t work that way. He was trying to manipulate me and I cannot let him win.

You glanced at the drawing of Griffon, marveling at the unearthly beauty of the creature’s forked beak and massive legs. A demonic bird, the hallucination of a crazed murderer, and you found it beautiful. What an incredible mind he had, to come up with such a thing.

How sad to imagine all the things he could have done with that mind, instead of slaughter. He could have written the next Lord of the Rings, painted the next Sistine Chapel. Manifested something profound instead of destroying the lives of a young family.

Maybe he still can. If I can help him, who knows what he’ll create?

A subdued knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. Was it already noon? Time flew right by you, more proof of the ridiculousness surrounding you. With a final sigh you grabbed your purse and locked your computer, heading to join Kotomi for lunch.

“Hey Y/N! How was your weekend?” she asked as you entered the hallway.

Charlie buzzed you through the security door; Ben must have called out sick. “Pretty boring, to be honest. How about you?”

Her eyes sparkled as she described a trip to the museum with her mother, skimming over any interesting parts like she always did. The elder Ishida was legendary in her hatred of psychiatry, and every time she and Kotomi got together she had a new story of her mother’s lectures. You grinned as you reached for the button to call the elevator, all too aware of her heels.

“So, did she disown you for working here yet?”

“Y/N! Not so loud! Wait, what’s that on your wrist?”

You hadn’t noticed before, but a streak of charcoal marked where the artist touched you. It was just dark enough to draw attention and you rubbed it against your pants, grateful you wore black today.  A pale grey outline remained no matter how hard you tried and you huffed in annoyance.

“It’s charcoal,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “The artist?”

You nodded and stepped forward as the elevator arrived. Her heels clicked to join you as she crossed her arms and gave you an intense stare.

“You let him touch you? Have you lost your mind?!”

Did he do it on purpose? Was this why he wanted to shake my hand?

Lithe fingers grasped your shoulders as almond shaped eyes met yours. Her concern was sweet and you wished you had the right words to reassure her.

“Y/N, I’m worried about you. I know how you get with these people; you need to be extra careful with him. I’ve heard rumors, he sounds really dangerous,” she insisted.

You managed a small smile as a ding announced the elevator passing the second floor. There was no change in its motion and you licked your lips, searching for the right words. Of course he was dangerous; you weren’t an idiot, you knew that. And yes, maybe you shouldn’t have let him touch you, but Kevin was right there and you couldn’t let him have control by refusing.

“Look. I know, okay? I know what he’s capable of. I read the police report. But I have to take a few risks to help him, he’s too smart for the standard approach. It’s my job to work with the dangerous ones. I know what I’m doing.”

Her eyes softened and she dropped her arms, though she still looked troubled. The second ding marked your arrival at ground level and you stepped off in silence, wondering what else you could say to ease her concern.

“Do you want me to sit in on your sessions? Maybe I can help somehow,” Kotomi offered.

How did she do that? How did she make herself seem so genuine? Was she actually that genuine or was it all an act? It was impossible to say for sure, but you had no reason to doubt her sincerity. Her offer meant all the more considering her aversion to violent offenders, her fear of being around the most twisted minds.

You smiled at Lenny as he buzzed the two of you into the administrative wing. The echoes of Kotomi’s steps rattled through the air as you neared the staff lounge.

“That’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright. I promise to be careful,” you said.

The remaining charcoal on your wrist drew your eyes as you opened the door. You couldn’t deny the rush his touch gave you, despite the alarm bells that rang in your head. Maybe Kotomi had a point, maybe you were being reckless. No other patient had ever touched you so intimately, with or without permission. Was this response normal?

Did it matter?

~~~Next Chapter~~~

[icarus-imagines]

Yusuke Kitagawa X Gay!Artist!Shadow!Reader

I have a request a Yusuke X Gay!Artist!Rival!Reader

Pwettty Pwease OwO

Word Count: 2,765

Category: Persona 5

~Choose What Your Heart Decides~

Why is he talking to her?

You couldn't help but let a sour expression invade your face as your (E/c) orbs secretly watched the scene in front of you unfold from your desk by the window, where you had been previously doing your homework until you heard their voices engage together.

It was Yusuke Kitagawa, the handsomely gifted painter you admired so much who was conversing with a friend. But he wasn't the one who had turned your mood foul. It was her. His friend.

Ann Takamaki.

A sweet, kind, and a very compassionate girl who always looked good in everything she wore. A well-known model. She was most beautiful, but undoubtedly not more beautiful than the calm and poetic specimen she was having a conversation with.

Though very attractive to many of your male peers you would never be attracted to her in such a red colored red. You knew if you had been born to love females like God had intended, or so people preached, you knew you would have gotten a troublesome crush on the girl. But that wasn't the case.

You had feelings of red for Yusuke.

Though color red was an odd way to explain it, you felt it most appropriate to explain it in such an elegant way, just like Yusuke was. You and he were one in the same, both paid terms. But unlike him, you were not known to be one. The reason being you had an anonymous name. (A/n). You didn't want people to know you because you were scared. But that was a sad note not wanting to be touched.

Stashing away the easy Calculus homework you had been working on you sighed lowly slinging the bag on, forgetting your sketchbook on the desk. While doing so you fixed your hair a bit from the tiniest OCD, making sure you're shiny locks of (H/c) were perfect and not out of place.

Taking a few steps forward you began to make your way out the door. Even though school ended about 10 minutes ago you stayed to finish the homework like a good student. Yusuke didn't go to this school but often visited after the bell to speak with his friends. Not that you were a stalker, but you had witnessed it multiple times since you sat behind the silent and mysterious boy named Akira Kurusu and his best friend Ryuji Sakamoto. And it was weirder that Akira for some reason had a cat in his desk and bag at all times. Yet nobody noticed. You thought you may have gone crazy contemplating on if it was real or not.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the thoughts you continued on your way, noticing you had slowed while thinking. You almost stopped in your tracks as Yusuke's silky voice traveled to your ears. But the words he said sounded like long nails on a chalkboard. Horrible and unsettling.

"Takamaki-san, I must remind you that you still have not accepted my request. Surely you will make up your mind and readily agree to become my model for the next masterpiece I plan on creating?"

"Tch," Was all that escaped past your (Plump/Thin/Etc.) lips not waiting for Ann's response to such a generous and thoughtful question. You didn't hear the words exit her mouth as she agreed.

To imagine a beauty of a woman posing in various positions, whether they be innocent or lustful you had no idea, but in front of Yusuke. He would have to gaze at her body for hours, maybe even longer!

Leaving the classroom to calm yourself by walking home, you missed the confused looks of Akira, Ryuji, and Ann. But more importantly, you missed the saddened and very puzzled expression belonging to a certain boy named Yusuke who realized you had forgotten to take your sketchbook. He would have to find you and give it back if he ever had a chance to.

~*~*~*~

Yusuke sighed once again at his teammates as they tried to figure out where to go next. They had been tracking down a tainted aura through the other world known as Mementos wondering what the individual was after.

They noted it that it would actually stay close to them. But disappear as they approached to close. So they decided to use a different tactic. I stead of following the actual Shadow, they would find its so-called nest of sorts. It's home. Usually, they wouldn't work this hard at finding a Shadow, but this one seemed a bit stronger. Some kind of Mini-Boss.

Walking for a few minutes they came upon a house. It was a pulsing red, with red roses scattering the front lawn with its vines scaling all around the house. They even trailed through every open window, including the door that was also open, to the center of the house. It was as if it was tiny. They had been correct. This Shadow was stronger than normal. It seemed to almost be on the verge of creating a castle and them wouldn't let that happen. Not when they were so close.

Careful of the beautiful but dangerously sharp crimson roses that all seemed to ooze out from within their petals mahogany liquid thick like blood, Yusuke gazed at the house with confusion. It was familiar. Like he had seen it before. But that was utterly impossible. But...he had to make sure.

Turning to his comrades, The Phantom Thieves, behind him who were peering at the roses on the ground with a mix of fascination and bewilderment he spoke to them.

"I would like to investigate further inside, alone. If that is alright," he said simply watching as the eyes behind each mask of his friends looked at him with confusion. He just replied, "I'll explain later, if that is alright, leader?"

Akira stood there for a few seconds weighing the pros and cons before giving a small nod of approval.

Yusuke bowed his head the slightest bit thankful. "I'll be quick."

Yusuke turned to the house, knowing that if it was not in Mementos it would have a small garden in the front and very cozy. Pushing the door he entered the home. Instantly the hairs on his body sprung up. It was cold. Something was here.

Taking a few cautious steps he entered a hallway. But stopped seeing paintings of every size imaginable with varying emotions swirling within each canvas. Not only did he perceive this as an artist himself, but it was easy to figure it out because it was literal. Each painting was moving.

The light ones were merrily filled with laughing, dancing, singing, and anything of the like. While the darker, more saddened paintings were filled with crying and depressed scenes depicting fears. Fears manifested from the artist or just plain inspiration was beyond Yusuke.

Shaking his head to rid thoughts of the sad Shadow he looked to the end of the hallway freezing as he saw it. Standing in front of the door at the end of the overly long hallway. It was him. The Shadow.

Yusuke's face behind his fox mask dropped. He knew who was and it tightened his heartstrings.

It was you.

You wore your normal school uniform. You (H/c) hair perfectly styled, just like always Yusuke noted fondly. But you're eyes. Yusuke cringed at the color. Instead of familiar (E/c) he was used to gazing into, even when you didn't look back, was now a dull yellow. Such an ugly color on your visage.

This time though you were staring straight at Yusuke. Unlike other Shadows you were silent. Hands straight at your sides but shaking slightly. You were nervous. Scared maybe. Of me?, Yusuke thought. It seemed like it.

Yusuke turned to pop his head out of the door to look at his teammates. "Nobody is present. Maybe they are around the area and we should split up?" he offered. They looked at him curiously, but since he never lied or tried to ever deter them in any way they agreed. Splitting up and searching. But Yusuke stayed behind, closing the door before walking back to the hallway.

His eyes widened a bit seeing that you had disappeared. But he was quick to see you had disappeared behind the door, evident from it is slightly ajar.

Careful as he walked slowly down the long hallway Yusuke glanced at the many paintings on each side of the hallway. The roses with vines trailed along the walls, even the ceiling, and floor. All growing thicker and wilder as they trailed into the room. And he noticed with surprise there was thorns. The ones closest to him were dull and short, but the closer he got to the room they grew longer and much sharper.

Placing his palm on the door he pushed it open, cringing slightly at the small squeaking of the ominous door. Peering inside he was taken aback by the scene displayed before his eyes.

The roses were even more wild, spiraling to the bed in the back. Thornes creating a small barrier at the base. And there you were. Still nonspeaking and it looked like you had been crying, obvious from the tears slowly running down your porcelain face as you sat silently on the sheets of the bed that were satin and shiny.

Yusuke drew nearer, walking over the vines that looked to be steadily beating like that of an actual heart. Stopping mid-way through watching curiously as you froze in shock. You had thought he had left you alone to wade in your river of sorrows.

Yusuke leisurely walked towards you, careful as not to scare, as he sat down beside you. Resting his hands on the bed, leaning back, he closed his eyes wondering what you would do. It wasn't long before he heard the bed sheets shift slightly and you're smooth voice enter his ears.

"Kitagawa-Ku-"

"Yusuke," he said cutting you off though he knew it to be incredibly rude and ungentlemanly. But he had to get it across you could call him by his first name. He did care about you. Turning to see you had now faced him, sitting on your knees he wanted to chuckle but instead, he revealed his face by taking off his kitsune style mask. "You can call me, Yusuke."

He watched as your an expression that was once depressed brighten instantly. A small smile flickering on it. "Yusuke...why are you here? Is it...Is it because you wish to steal my heart? To change it?"

Yusuke looked at you amused. Did you want him to steal your heart? If so he would do it in a heartbeat, pun not intended. His grey eyes that would, from somebody else's view look dull and not full of life, were gleaming happily.

"Do you wish for me to steal your heart?"

Your face flushed quickly, yellow eyes cast down now embarrassed. "If you want to...I wouldn't be against it."

Yusuke took off his bright blue gloves revealing flawless and unscarred skin. Discarding his gloves on a random part of the bed he brought his right hand up to cup your cheek. Your eyes widened slightly turning to stare at him.

"I am afraid to say I cannot change your heart, you have to do it yourself," he said his thumb caressed your cheek in a soothing manner. "You are the deep inner self of the one I admire."

"You," you started confused. "You admire me?"

Yusuke nodded confirming your statement. "I recognized your art in the hallway. They are the same as the new painting I've seen in the museum."

"You recognized them, even though I'm anonymous? I'm quite honored. Your art is beautiful, on a whole new level. Hopefully, I can become like you one day."

Yusuke hummed, sadness flitting across his face for a second. "Don't worry about becoming like me. Stay who you are and I'm sure you'll be a great artist. The same goes for your heart. Changing it is up to you."

You looked down once more then back up, leaning into his hand. Yusuke felt and saw the vines with roses start to pulse. Maybe it was somehow connected to your heart.

"I'll change I promise. I'll not only change for you, but I'll change for myself."

Yusuke nodded reluctantly removing his hand away from you and covering them both with his gloves. Standing up he turned to you once more, his mask dangling from his fingers.

He looked at you for a few seconds as you took this precious time to admire him. His hair was shiny. A brilliant blue matching his costume. Lithe in form with the beauty of a fox. A calm and collected individual with an intelligence like no other. An aspiring painter with skill just opening. How lucky you were to be able to get close to him.

He leaned down after a few seconds planting a chaste kiss on your forehead that would most definitely bloom into a brilliant flower. Making you think of something. Though it is clearly random.

"I should get a tattoo," you say simply taking him by surprise. But replied with a small smirk, happy at seeing you open up and say more. He could see it in the way your eyes grew brighter, even with the ugly yellow that still resided in them.

"And what will it be off, may I ask?"

"I'm thinking of a rose. Nothing big, just on my wrist or something," you said explaining why it wasn't just a spontaneous thought or decision. "Three roses. Pink, Red, and White. Do you think this is a good choice?"

Yusuke placed his hands on your shoulders putting his forehead on yours. His eyes close to yours gazing into them serenely. You could feel his breath fan your lips making you blush.

"It is up to you to decide what is right or wrong. Be careful what you choose," he said his presence leaving you. He turned walking to the door, but before he closed it, slipping on his mask he turned back to you with a sparkle in his eye.

"Choose what your heart decides, (M/n)."

~The End~

Fun Facts:

-In dreams hallways, whether they be long or short, are interpreted as the dreamer having untapped psychic abilities. In this case, it's the reader's art. They have not yet reached their full potential. Another interpretation is the frustration the dreamer has of being in a repetitive situation. The reader feels they have been this hallway for a long time being that they have always wanted to speak to Yusuke, but have never been able to walk the length of it. Always staying at the beginning. While Yusuke took the steps needing to reach the reader. In reality, not Mementos, the hallway is shorter. Making this dream real in a way-

-Rose tattoos have their own meanings. The obvious meaning of being love and beauty. But the color creates a deeper feel making the meaning of the rose richer and more unique.

The first color mentioned was Pink. Symbolizing healing, first love, and innocence.

Healing: The reader will heal from their past mistakes and jealousy.

First love: The readers first love is Yusuke. And vice versa.

Innocence: The reader is new to love. Young and vibrant.

The second color mentioned was Red. Symbolizing romance or passionate love. But they also represent sacrifice.

Romance/Passionate Love: The love between the reader and Yusuke is more of an innocent love, but it can sometimes be romantic and passionate. An effect from their artistic personalities.

Sacrifice: The reader has sacrificed their old ways to be with Yusuke. When there is the love you need a sacrifice. This proves the love you have for each other is genuine.

The third color mentioned was White. Symbolizing purity, mysticism, and a secret admirer.

Purity: The reader is pure when Yusuke is with him. Become pure.

Mysticism: Taken from how Yusuke talked to the readers inner self in Mementos.

Secret Admirer: The reader and Yusuke were both secrets admirers of each other. Though now it's out in the open~-