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kokoch4n3l · 3 months ago

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'•.¸♡BUY ME THE MOON࿐ྂ SANO "MIKEY" MANJIRO x f!READER

FOUR — i fall to pieces

chapter summary: You begin to unravel the truth behind your father's election victory, uncovering the extent of Manjiro's influence over not just the underworld, but the country itself. Kakucho does damage control.

chapter warnings: dark content 18+, inaccurate depiction of politics and political climate, corruption, bribery, objectification, suggestive themes, kissing, making out, cheating, infidelity, daddy issues, allusions to sex, non-descriptive panic attacks, alcohol use, intoxicated sex, grinding, MAJOR DUBCON, noncon elements, consensual-to-dubcon, cunnilingus, oral(f), spanking(once), squirting, virginity loss, fingering, noncon(?) somnophilia, multiple orgasms, no aftercare, self loathing

word count: 9439

masterlist | previous | chapter 5

You had always been aware your father wasn't a good man. It was just you never truly cared because it didn't affect you. He loved you and you knew it. Sure he couldn't interact with you in public but behind closed doors in the safety of the mansion, he was the best dad anyone could ask for.

You know your dad is involved in some shady shit, you know how much corruption has been done by him and you know how cruel and heartless he was.

Your father was one of the worst men alive and he loved you the most in the world.

"I messed up," Your father says, shifting so he's laying against your pillows next to you "Not really but... Kind of"

It was a bit odd hearing your father admit he messed up but you weren't complaining. "I got a little too greedy and somehow got wound up with Bonten" Shinichi recalls

You nod, processing his words. You always knew your father was involved in shady dealings, but hearing him admit to getting entangled with Bonten felt like a different level of danger. You lie down beside him, the intimacy of the moment contrasting sharply with the gravity of his confession. "What happened?" you ask softly, your curiosity piqued.

Shinichi sighs deeply, staring up at the ceiling as if replaying the events in his mind. "It started with a business deal," he begins. "I saw an opportunity to expand my influence, to solidify my power. Bonten was already a significant player in the underground world, and aligning with them seemed like a smart move."

You listen intently, your heart pounding as he continues. "At first, it was just about money and power," Shinichi explains, his voice tinged with regret. "But things quickly escalated. Bonten doesn't operate by the same rules as everyone else. Their methods are... ruthless. And once you're in, there's no easy way out."

You shiver at the thought, understanding the implications. "So, they found out about me because of your involvement with them?" you ask, seeking clarity.

Shinichi nods. "Yes. I tried to keep you hidden, to protect you from that world. But somehow, they found out. I underestimated their reach, and their ability to dig up secrets... They showed me a picture of you at your high school graduation and I freaked out and gave in."

A silence falls between you, the weight of his confession settling in. Despite everything, you can't help but feel a deep sense of love and protectiveness from your father. He had made mistakes, but his intentions were always to keep you safe. "Dad," you say softly, breaking the silence. "What do we do now?"

Shinichi turns to look at you, his eyes filled with determination. "We stay cautious," he replies firmly. "We keep a low profile and try to maintain the facade of normalcy. And most importantly, we stay together. I'll protect you, no matter what."

You nod, feeling a sense of resolve settle over you. Despite the danger and uncertainty, you trust your father. He may be flawed, but his love for you is unwavering. "Okay," you say, your voice steady. "But you're also the literal president now so... Are they holding me against you? Like are they saying they will reveal my existence to the public if you do something they don't like or don't play by their rules?"

Shinichi's face darkens slightly at your question, his eyes narrowing as he considers his response. "It's more complicated than that," he says slowly, his voice tinged with frustration. "They haven't directly threatened to reveal your existence or well... Kill you... but their influence is pervasive. They're like a shadow that hangs over everything I do, a constant reminder of the cost of my ambition."

You feel a chill run down your spine at his words. The realization that Bonten's reach extends even into the highest echelons of power is both terrifying and sobering. "So, what do we do?" you ask again, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed.

Shinichi sighs deeply, his expression softening as he looks at you. "We play their game," he says quietly. "But we do it on our terms. I need to keep up appearances and maintain the facade of cooperation while finding ways to undermine their influence."

You gaze at him for a moment. You think about Manjiro when you first met him then the second time in the noodle shop and the whole 'incident' in his backseat then the 'thing' that happened in your room earlier when he was here. You can't help but wonder if Manjiro is using you to gain the upper hand over your father. To purposely make you feel things for him so he can dangle your heart over your father's head. It was a little sick to think about and even made you feel stupid for fantasizing about him for a whole month then let him right back in your room and between your legs. You try to shake off the unsettling thoughts, focusing instead on the immediate conversation with your father. "How can I help?" you ask, determined to be part of the solution rather than a passive victim.

Shinichi looks at you with a mix of pride and concern. "Just be yourself," he says gently. "Continue living your life as normally as possible. Your innocence is your greatest asset right now. If they think you're unaware of their games, they'll underestimate you, and that gives us an advantage."

You nod, understanding the strategy but feeling a twinge of guilt at the idea of pretending ignorance. "And what about Manjiro?" you ask cautiously, your voice betraying the conflicted emotions you feel toward him. "Is he...using me?"

Shinichi's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of anger crossing his face. "Manjiro Sano is a complicated man," he admits. "He's ruthless and ambitious, but he's also capable of loyalty and genuine emotions. It's hard to say where his true intentions lie."

You bite your lip, feeling a knot of anxiety in your stomach. "Dad... What were they burning in the backyard the night of the election?"

Shinichi sucks in a breath and says "Ballots"

You stare at your father, your mind racing as you process his words. "Ballots?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

The implications of his confession weigh heavily on you. Shinichi nods, his expression grim. "Yes, ballots," he confirms. "There were irregularities, and we couldn't afford for them to be discovered. The stakes were too high."

The room feels colder, the air thick with the gravity of his admission. You realize now just how deeply your father's corruption runs, how far he's willing to go to maintain his power. The image of the loving father who always protected you clashes violently with the ruthless politician willing to destroy evidence to secure his position. To make things even worse he hadn't even actually won. Saimori Shinichi cheated and it wasn't just an everyday game. It was the fucking presidential election. "But... Dad," you stammer, trying to reconcile the man before you with the actions he's confessed to. "What if someone finds out? What if they use this against you?"

Shinichi sighs deeply, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache. "That's why we need to be even more careful," he says. "We can't afford any mistakes. We need to keep up appearances, and we need to make sure Bonten doesn't have any more leverage over us than they already do."

You nod slowly, the weight of your father's world settling on your shoulders. "I understand," you say quietly, though the words feel hollow. "I'll do my best."

Shinichi reaches out and takes your hand, his grip firm but comforting. "I know you will," he says softly. "And I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. No matter what happens, remember that."

You nod again, squeezing his hand in return. "I will, Dad."

It's right that moment you decide that if Sano Manjiro is playing you, you'll play him as well.

It takes 2 weeks for you to become somewhat close to the top members of Bonten. Honestly speaking though, you don't see Manjiro as much as you see Kokonoi Hajime, the group's financial adviser. He's in charge of all the money and is one of the main reasons Bonten is so rich. The other executives call him Koko and because you're a brat and could care less about formalities, you call him that too. He doesn't really care about it.

Koko comes over to the mansion a lot, usually with his laptop in tow. He sits in your room at your desk while you idly lay back on your bed and work on your embroidery work which was due soon. Moments with Koko are pretty quiet and it's actually quite nice. You don't feel lonely anymore that was for sure. He doesn't talk much about his past, rather about Bonten itself but all of what he says you have already read about online. One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, painting your room in shades of orange and pink, Koko looks up from his laptop, breaking the comfortable silence. "You're getting better at that," he remarks, nodding toward your embroidery.

You glance at your work, a delicate pattern of flowers taking shape beneath your fingers. "Thanks," you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It's relaxing."

Koko leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "I can see why. Sometimes I wish my job was that peaceful."

You chuckle softly, setting your embroidery aside for a moment. "I doubt you would last long in a quiet life, Koko. You seem to thrive on the chaos."

He smirks, conceding your point. "True enough. But still, it's nice to have moments like these. Away from all the noise and the... complications."

You nod in agreement, feeling a pang of longing for simpler times. You saw Koko the most because he mostly worked on his computer. He didn't do 'fieldwork' like the rest of the executives or whatever that meant. Mikey as boss had a bunch of meetings so of course you didn't get to see him as often. It was annoying though. It's kind of like waiting for an item you want to come back in stock. But you don't wait for things. Sano Manjiro is like a pretty design you've reserved for yourself. Or at least, you're attempting to. "Yeah, it's nice. Thanks for keeping me company, Koko."

He waves off your gratitude with a dismissive hand. "Don't mention it. Besides, you're a good distraction from the numbers. And..." he pauses, his expression becoming more serious. "It's good to keep an eye on you."

You raise an eyebrow, curious about the shift in his tone. "Is that really why you're here? To keep an eye on me?"

Koko meets your gaze, his eyes revealing a flicker of something unspoken. "Partly," he admits. "But also because I enjoy our conversations. You're... different from the rest of your... family."

Before you can respond or even internalize his words, the door to your room swings open, and Manjiro steps inside, his presence immediately commanding attention. He looks between you and Koko, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Interrupting something?" he asks his tone light but with an edge of curiosity and something else a little darker

Koko stands, closing his laptop and gathering his things. "Just wrapping up," he replies smoothly. "I'll see you later, princess."

You nod, watching as Koko exits the room, leaving you alone with Manjiro. The air feels charged with unspoken tension, and you can't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and wariness. Manjiro steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. "You've been busy," he remarks, his voice low and intense. "Making friends with my associates."

You sit up on your bed, the pillows and fluffy white and pink sheets shifting. "'m makin' friends 'Jiro," you reply, the nickname rolling off your tongue smoothly "Is that a problem?"

He chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Not at all," he says. "In fact, I think it's quite impressive. But remember, [Y/N]... in this world, everyone has an agenda."

You smile sweetly, masking the turmoil within. You so badly want to ask what he really wants from you but you keep those thoughts to yourself. "I know," you say, remembering your father's words about Manjiro and the rest of Bonten "And I have my own too."

Manjiro's eyes narrow slightly, a glimmer of intrigue dancing in their depths. "Is that so?" he murmurs, stepping even closer until he's mere inches from you. "Then perhaps we should find out just how well our agendas align."

The tension between you crackles like a live wire, and you realize that the game you're playing with Manjiro is far from over—

Before you know it, the fabric you were working the needle into is set aside on your bedside table and you're lowered into your pillows. Manjiro's lips meet yours and you sigh into his mouth, head going fuzzy from just the slightest touch of his lips against yours.

—In fact, it might just be beginning.

You've never actually been to Bonten Headquarters.

You've searched the building up online and found other articles directing you to other businesses they owned and all the shady rumours about them too. The building itself was an imposing structure, a stark contrast to the sleek, modern skyscrapers that surrounded it. It was a fortress of sorts, heavily guarded and shrouded in an air of mystery and danger.

Bonten— led by Sano Manjiro who was rumoured to have led two biker gangs in his youth during the early 2000s. One of the two biker gangs is what turned into what Bonten is today. There is no information available online about any family history except for a younger sister who was murdered in February 2006. Online forums have very differing opinions about Sano. Some say he murdered a bunch of people, others claim he's your typical businessman with a little bit of corruption and tax evasion on the side like any other. There was one thing everyone agreed on though.

Sano Manjiro has never been photographed and even if the press or anyone somehow snaps a picture and uploads it, the picture is gone in seconds. Only a few have even seen Sano's face but everyone can agree that man is handsome. The allure of Sano Manjiro's enigmatic presence only intensifies your determination to unravel his secrets. With every whispered rumour and shadowy detail, you find yourself more entangled in the web of mystery that surrounds him.

It's a brisk afternoon when you finally get your chance to visit Bonten Headquarters. You're driven in a sleek black car, the tinted windows shielding you from prying eyes. As you approach the building, its imposing structure looms over you, a testament to the power and influence of Bonten. You had decided to skip your afternoon classes immediately after Manjiro offered for you to come visit him and he sent you a car after you texted your driver not to come get you from school.

You arrive at the headquarters early in the evening, the building looming over you like a sentinel. It's a stark reminder of the power Bonten holds and the delicate balance you're trying to maintain. The entrance is guarded by several intimidating men in dark suits, their expressions unreadable. Inside, the atmosphere is a blend of modern luxury and old-world opulence. Polished marble floors, sleek metal accents, and expensive artwork line the halls. The air is filled with a sense of purpose, the sound of hushed conversations and the occasional clink of glassware creating a symphony of controlled chaos. The lobby is vast and luxurious, every detail meticulously designed to project wealth and influence. You approach the reception desk, where a stern-looking woman eyes you with suspicion. "I'm here to see Sano Manjiro" you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

You're so clearly out of place in your little two-piece outfit you actually made yourself. It was a cream-coloured satin wrap-around skirt and cropped loose-ish satin blouse in the same cream colour with three buttons in the center and bell sleeves you were very proud of making and a ribbon tying your hair back. Unlike the other ladies working here with their sleek black heels, you were wearing off white platform heels with bows on the front and white socks. Needless to say, you were kind of out of place in the professional environment. You fiddle with the necklace Manjiro gifted you as the receptionist looks at you up and down. Part of you wants to snap at her but you also don't blame her. You look like a damn teenager despite being 20 years old. "Mr. Sano doesn't take walk-in appointments." She says in a professional tone

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, maintaining your composure. "I'm not a walk-in," you reply calmly, meeting her gaze. "He invited me."

The receptionist raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "And you are?"

Before you could respond someone behind you speaks up and the receptionist straightens her shoulders before bowing. "Hey Kid"

You turn around to see Mochizuki Kanji and a few bodyguards. Mochizuki Kanji, called Mochi by the other executives, is one of the other top eight executives of Bonten. "whatcha' doin' down here? Do you not have a keycard to go up?" He asks

You smile weakly as the attention of the other employees is turned to you. "u-uh no..."

Mochi was an odd person in your opinion. He was super tall, bulky, kind of had anger issues but he was pretty nice to you. He reminded you of this one guard you had at the mansion when you were younger. His intense presence is softened by a kind demeanour when it comes to you, making him one of the few Bonten members you feel relatively at ease with. Mochi looks at the receptionist, who immediately understands the gravity of the situation. "Miss, my apologies," the receptionist says, her tone now deferential. "I'll escort you upstairs immediately."

Mochi shakes his head, waving off her offer. "I'll take her up myself." He gestures for you to follow, and you fall into step beside him, grateful for the intervention.

As you make your way to the elevator, you can't help but notice the curious glances from the other employees. They all have no idea who you are. Online forums say Manjiro does occasionally have women comes to his office or there are women spotted coming to his office but you did not match the description of them. You were an anomaly. Once inside the elevator, Mochi presses the button for the top floor, the penthouse where Manjiro's office is located. "You know," Mochi says, breaking the silence, "it's not every day we get visitors like you. You're special."

You glance up at him, trying to gauge his expression. "Special how?"

Mochi chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound. "Let's just say you're the first girl to get this much attention from Mikey in a long time."

Your heart practically sings at Mochi's revelation. The first girl in a long time? Oh, how you hope Manjiro isn't actually using you. This was all kind of cute and makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. You haven't felt this way since well... Ever. The elevator doors open, and you step out into a lavish hallway. The floors are a rich, dark wood, and the walls are adorned with elegant artwork. It's a stark contrast to the cold, impersonal feel of the lobby. Mochi leads you to a set of double doors at the end of the hall and knocks once before pushing them open. The room you enter is spacious and bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Manjiro is seated behind a massive mahogany desk, his attention fixed on some documents spread out before him. He looks up and you can't help but let your mind wander. "Mochi" Manjiro greets his colleague with no smile, no expression whatsoever

Mochi just grunts before he leaves you alone with Manjiro in his office. Manjiro's black suit jacket is on one of the couches in his office as well as his tie. His silk black dress shirt highlights the muscles you can see ripping beneath his skin and the top few buttons are undone exposing some of his chest. He looks... hot. His white hair is in its usual middle part style, sweeping against his brows and you resist the urge to walk over and brush a strand behind his ear. You internally sigh. He's so pretty. You stand there for a moment, taking in the sight of Manjiro, his intense gaze fixed on you. The office, with its lavish décor and breathtaking view, fades into the background as you focus on the man before you. Manjiro's expression softens slightly as he watches you, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "whatcha' standing over there for, sweet girl?" He says then pats his lap "C'mere"

Your heart skips a beat at his invitation, and you hesitate for only a moment before walking towards him. The butterflies in your stomach intensify with each step, the anticipation building as you walk around his large desk. When you reach him, Manjiro's hands rest gently on your waist, guiding you to sit on his lap. His touch is firm yet tender, sending a shiver down your spine. You settle into his lap, your legs draped over one arm of the chair. His hands remain on your waist, holding you securely. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, and you find yourself momentarily lost in his dark, enigmatic eyes. Oh gosh, he's so pretty. Manjiro's gaze roams over your face as if memorizing every detail. "You're quite a sight, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

You blush, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Thank you," you reply softly, your fingers lightly tracing the contours of his chest through his shirt.

"How was your day?" he asks, his voice a low murmur in your ear.

The intimacy of the moment makes your pulse quicken, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. "It was... good," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Manjiro is looking at you in a way that makes heat pool in your lower belly. When he looks away he straightens out your clothes, tugging your satin skirt down your thighs. "I hope you didn't have anything planned for the evening. I know it was very sudden that I asked you to come here" Manjiro says

You feel a rush of warmth at his touch, his hands smoothing down your skirt with care. The sensation sends a tingling thrill through you, and you find yourself leaning slightly into his touch. His proximity, his scent—everything about him envelops you in a heady mix of desire and curiosity. "No, I didn't have any plans," you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to see you."

Manjiro's lips curl into a knowing smile, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "I'm glad you're here," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I've been thinking about you."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the intensity in his eyes igniting a fire within you. "What have you been thinking about?" you ask, your voice breathless.

He leans closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. "About how much I want to kiss you," he confesses, his voice a seductive murmur.

Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath away. His kiss is both gentle and firm, a tantalizing dance of passion and restraint. You melt into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. The kiss deepens, becoming a shared moment of longing and desire. When he finally pulls back, you're left breathless, your heart racing. His forehead rests against yours, his hands still gently holding you. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice a low, reverent whisper.

A mix of emotions swirls within you—desire, uncertainty, and a growing sense of attachment. "You... you have that effect on me too," you admit, your voice barely audible.

Manjiro smiles with genuine warmth in his eyes. Something tells you it's been a long time since he's smiled like that. "Good," he says softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "I want you to stay."

You nod, unable to resist the pull of his gaze. "I want to stay," you reply, your voice filled with unspoken promises.

He kisses you again, more deeply this time as if sealing an unspoken pact between you. The kiss lingers, a testament to the growing connection between you and Manjiro. In that moment, amidst the opulence of his office and the city lights twinkling outside, you realize that you're no longer just a pawn in a game. You're a player, willingly entangled in a web of desire and ambition. Perhaps beyond helping out your dad, you really did like Manjiro. He's not like how girls online who claim to have met him describe him to be but rather he's a lot better. "let's get these off, hm" Manjiro says and with ease, reaches over to your ankles and undos the buckles of your heels, letting them drop to the floor with a thud.

You feel the cool air against your now bare feet, the sensation grounding you in the reality of the moment. Manjiro's hands linger on your ankles, his touch sending shivers up your spine. His gaze shifts back to your face, and you can see the hunger in his eyes. "You look so much more comfortable now," he murmurs, his hands sliding up your legs to rest on your thighs.

His touch is electrifying, and you feel a surge of desire wash over you. As he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together, you let out a soft sigh, leaning into his warmth, head on his shoulder. His fingers trace patterns on your thighs, the sensation both soothing and intoxicating. You can feel the tension building between you, a potent mix of anticipation and longing. "I have a meeting soon," he says, his voice tinged with reluctance as he begins to tug the cream-coloured ribbon out of your hair, letting it down. "But I want you to wait for me here. We'll have dinner together afterward."

You smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "I'd like that."

Manjiro ties the ribbon he pulled out of your hair around his wrist. You're about to get off his lap but that's when there is a knock on his door. "Boss" It's Sanzu with the businessmen Bonten was doing a deal with

Manjiro narrows his eyes for a moment then says "Oh wait, the meeting is happening in my office"

That was how you ended up on the floor, sitting by Mikey's legs hiding from the businessmen he was meeting with in his office. The large wooden desk hides you from view. The sound of footsteps and hushed conversations fills the room as the businessmen enter, and you huddle closer to Manjiro's legs, your heart racing. Manjiro's hand rests reassuringly on your head for a brief moment, a silent promise of protection. From your hidden vantage point, you can only catch glimpses of the men's polished shoes as they take their seats in front of Manjiro on the other side of his desk. Their voices are low, carrying an air of authority and urgency. Manjiro's tone shifts, becoming more formal and commanding. "Gentlemen," he begins, "thank you for coming. Let's get down to business."

The meeting unfolds with a meticulous discussion of figures, strategies, and agreements. You can't follow all the specifics, but you can sense the gravity of the topics being discussed. Occasionally, Manjiro's leg brushes against you, a subtle reminder of your presence and his control over the situation. Despite the seriousness of the meeting, you find a strange sense of calm in the small space beneath the desk. It's intimate, almost as if Manjiro is shielding you from the harsh realities of his world. You listen intently, trying to piece together the puzzle of his empire.

Eventually though, very quickly actually, you get bored. Manjiro's fingers are tangled in your hair as you rest your head against his knee. You're doing your best to stay quiet and still, but the boredom begins to weigh on you. The conversation above drones on, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses or the shuffle of papers. Manjiro's steady presence is your only anchor in the otherwise mundane environment.

As the meeting continues, you start to tune out the specifics, instead focusing on the rhythm of Manjiro's fingers in your hair. The gentle, repetitive motion is soothing, a stark contrast to the intense, business-like atmosphere surrounding you. You glance up occasionally, catching glimpses of Manjiro's serious expression, his eyes sharp and focused. You shift slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position without drawing attention to yourself. Manjiro's hand tightens briefly in your hair, a silent reminder to stay still. You suppress a sigh, resigning yourself to your current situation. So, you pull out your phone instead.

You keep scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the prolonged meeting. The more you browse, the more you find yourself adding items to your online shopping cart—clothes, accessories, and other small luxuries you've been wanting. Each addition brings a fleeting moment of excitement, though it is quickly overshadowed by the realization that your wallet is out of reach. Lost in the world of online shopping, you momentarily forget your surroundings. The quiet murmur of voices and the occasional clinking of glass continue to provide a background hum to your activity. You feel Manjiro's fingers give your hair a gentle tug, snapping you back to the present. You look up, and although his expression remains composed, there's a hint of amusement in his eyes.

You kind of feel like a little puppy sitting by his legs like this while he pets your head. It feels odd. Despite the oddness, there's a comfort in the moment, a strange blend of intimacy and authority that defines your relationship with Manjiro. You don't really understand exactly what your relationship with him is, but you sure as hell figured out how he wants you to be for him.

Innocent.

Manjiro's fingers continue to weave through your hair, the soft, repetitive motion almost lulling you into a trance. But beneath the gentle caress, there's a tension—a feeling that something more is expected of you. The way he holds you close, the way his eyes darken with every passing second you remain in this submissive position, it all points to a desire for something pure, untouched—innocent.

You shift slightly, trying to ease the growing discomfort in your legs from sitting on the cold floor for so long. His grip tightens in response, not painful, but enough to remind you of his control. You don't need to look up to know he's watching you, waiting for you to make any small move that might betray your thoughts.

Manjiro wants someone innocent. Someone who can be molded, shaped to fit the vision he has in his mind. And you're all too aware that, in his eyes, you're exactly that—his innocent little toy, hidden away from the harsh realities of his world. But beneath his seemingly protective actions, you sense something darker, more possessive. It's as if he's carefully crafted this image of innocence for you to embody, a role you're expected to play to perfection.

You're not naïve. You know that this innocence he craves isn't for your protection—it's for his own twisted satisfaction. The way he watches you, the way he treats you like something delicate, it all hints at his deeper, more sinister intentions. He wants to keep you untainted, not out of care, but because it gives him a certain power, a control that feeds into his darker desires. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you don't dare show it. Instead, you play the part, allowing him to see what he wants—a docile, compliant girl who needs his guidance and protection. But deep down, you're wary, cautious of where this path might lead. You've seen glimpses of his world, the ruthless decisions, the calculated moves, and you can't ignore the growing unease in your gut.

His thumb brushes against your cheek, pulling you back into the present. You glance up at him, and for a moment, your eyes meet. There's a flicker of something in his gaze—possessiveness, a hint of something darker that you can't quite place. You force a small smile, pretending not to notice, but your heart beats faster, a silent warning that you're treading dangerous waters.

As the meeting continues, you lean into his touch, playing along with the innocence he so desperately wants from you. But in the back of your mind, you're already planning your next move, wondering how long you can keep up this charade before he sees through it—or worse, before you lose yourself in the role he's cast you in.

The ride back to his penthouse is a blur. Hazy streetlights of orange and red, then bright white lights of the lobby as you make way to the elevator, arm linked with his. You floats through it your heels seemingly not on the tiled floors. You feel kind of... Drunk? Maybe. After the dumb meeting Manjiro coaxed you to drink Whiskey or whatever was in his glass. You had never been able to hold your drink very well. But then again, you never drank much in the first place. You always looked ugly as hell in the morning so why do something that make you look undesireable?

There's something wet on your neck other than the beads of sweat rolling down on your flesh. You try to move your head, but can't move away when something is pulling your hair, baring more skin to the onslaught of bites, marking you. Breaking flesh. Bruising in the indent of teeth that are soothed by open-mouthed kisses and a brush of warm air. You struggle out of the hold, trying to release yourself from Manjiro, an unfamiliar weight that suffocates you. You can't even grasp at who or how, your body lifted like a ragdoll from the ground, your thigh slinging on the Manjiro's arm, the other hoisted up around the man's waist, cupping your ass.

You hitches a breath, whiny and begging please's, when the man grinds the bulge of his cock against you clothed cunt, pushing the smoothness of your silk skirt and the zipper of his tailored trousers digging on your clit, cotton fabric of underwear pushed deeply on your slicked slit, rubbing tight, raw— hears the squelches, of how wet you are as hips keep grinding on. You cry, the inside of your thighs shaking, toes curling inside your heels as your cunt throbs, belly clenching as you feel yourself come. "S-stop," you moan wetly

You find your hands working, clutching fistfuls of hair to tug it away from your wounded neck. Pushing again, you feel your heel-clad feet touch the carpet, the man steadying you with a grasp on your waist. "What's wrong, sweet girl? Did something hurt?" His voice makes you want to cry

It sounds so concerned, so familiarly deep, resonating in your chest and echoing in your ears. Fuck fuck, you're too hyper-aware of your own breathing, the way your chest moves up and down and the way your heart is hammering in your chest. "No—it's just—I... I don't—" you stutter, your next breath faltering to a half-broken sob

You close your eyes, tears prickling at bay, feeling despondent shame when you shouldn't really feel like this, the bubbling anxieties clouding your mind, your rationality. Why does... why do you feel... your emotions are all jumbled in a mess, puzzle pieces thrown out shaken. You didn't know you were sobbing, not until there was a hand gently brushing your hair, and thin yet lean arms wrapping around you. "Shh, it's okay." lean arms wind around you, tethering you in place.

You feel more grounded when a hand snakes around your neck, your thumb tracing the soft lines of your jaw, and the little tremble of your bottom lip. "Breathe for me, baby." Manjiro hushes your cries, the other hand rubbing back and forth on your spine.

You breathe and Manjiro smiles, "That's it, you're doing good."

You feel hot, nuzzling with the hand that cradles his face, tears still clinging to your eyelashes. It's the first time someone calls you good for just breathing properly. Fuck did that make you feel nice. "You okay now?"

You attempted to respond, but only a jumble of incoherent sounds escaped your lips. You flush when you nod, which makes the yakuza boss chuckle. Your lips meet in another kiss, one slower, more tender — a soft press, gentle in the way your lips mould together. You open your eyes when you finally part, the older man plants a quick peck on your forehead, asking, "Are you sure you're doing fine?"

You nod once more which earns you a coo from the man. "Let me hear you, sweet girl..."

"I'm..." You hiccup. "I'm okay now."

Manjiro smiles, you can't quite see it, but it's there. Then he kneels down, palming your thighs. "Can you still give me a taste?"

You didn't hesitate to nod, a soft yeah repeating on your lips as the older man strips you of your lace panties, sliding them down your legs. Leaning against the wall, half plastered and half being carried, your thighs are spread once more, Manjiro lifting one thigh over his shoulder. You try to remember just how you ended up at Manjiro's penthouse. You remember your father's words of being careful around him but you should have thought of that when you drank out of Manjiro's glass. Eventually, the older man lifts you up a bit so he can kneel properly. "You're so wet," he breathes out.

A palm massaging the underside of your thigh, fingers lining around the edges of your skirt, damp with your own slick and your come. Manjiro's slight stubble is rough against your skin, chafing your skin. He kisses your cunt like how he marks you. Hungered and wanton, swallowing you. When the man pulled back a bit, you bit the inside of you cheek, another strained moan bouncing on the walls. Manjiro's head disappears under your skirt. The noises are much filthier when thumbs spread your lips apart, and it didn't take another long second before Manjiro took another peck on your pelvis, underneath your belly button. A quick kiss like he did with your forehead. It did something to you, the tenderness before the dive before the man wolfs you with his mouth. "What a pretty cunt you have, sweet girl. Seen it so many times but still can't get enough"

Manjiro eats you as if you're an oasis, and he is dehydrated. He sucks on your clit, pressing hard, using his tongue in ways that you didn't know existed. You squeeze your thighs shut around his head, but Manjiro grunts, a slap on your ass as a warning, before it wraps around you, bruising on your waist as your feet lift from the ground and he pervades your insides, thrusting in and out of your hole, humming like you're a treat to be savoured. "P-Please, I can't, you need to..." Your hand clenching over Manjiro's hair the other somewhere beside you, trying to grasp the wall.

You didn't know how many minutes had passed by, the clock in front of you blurring. Pussy dripping over your thighs, to the line of your butt— you feel your belly tightening, that familiar edge that you lines over— until your body is pulled taut, back arching off the wall when you reach another peak, squirting all over the man's face. Manjiro's mouth stayed on your mound, overwhelming you with sensations that borderlines sharp and hurtful. Marking his way up on the insides of your thighs, trailing kisses before digging his teeth and that made you wail. "You okay?" Manjiro asks as he pulls himself from your cunt, rubbing circles with his thumb on your thigh, slick shiny on his chin.

You can only hum in response, hugging Manjiro as he stands up. Manjiro moves again, your body was all boneless and heavy-limp as he carries you over. You bounce on the bed, another breath catching in your throat as Manjiro kisses you, tasting yourself— salty, musky and a tinged bit of sweet. You don't like the taste, but you like how it's being forced to linger on your tongue as Manjiro invades your mouth. Before you know it, your top is being pulled enough for the man to tug down your bra and latch onto your nipple, sinking his teeth around it. The other is being pulled and played with. Another assault on your torso, lines and patterns of marks, of mouth sucking in flesh, painting it red— and you moan through it all. "Look at you," Manjiro says. "You're made for this."

Then there's a finger sinking inside you, then another, rubbing over you, scissoring you open... something metal getting caught in your hole, smoother than the callouses— a ring. It kind of hurts and you want him to take it off but all the words are stuck in your throat. The simple ring makes you feel a little sick all of a sudden. It's on the left hand of his ring finger. What? "... so good for me." Another bite, another deep indent on skin

Manjiro sits up, palming himself. You hear the rustle of clothes and a zipper opening. Your thighs are pried open, hands smoothing on your sides, making you subdued.

Then there's something sliding on the line of your pussy, wet noises slicking. Then you're being broken in, a hole too small for something too big. You're too shocked to even let out anything, let alone scream as your mouth opens wide for just silence. You couldn't breathe, couldn't place yourself if this is real. If the pain is just a fever dream, a memory not true— You're a virgin, Manjiro isn't. This is your first — the stretch, the pain, the reassurance that you need as Manjiro brushes your hair away from your face. It's too much. "Breathe, sweet girl... you're clenching me so tight."

Manjiro works inside you slowly, achingly. The expanse of your hole, knees shaking with each slow push. You couldn't even flutter your hole for how stretched you are, how wide you must be gaping to accommodate something that huge, that thick. Your crop top clings around your neck, nipples still pebbled in the heated air. You find your voice again, gasping in between, "Ngh... g-gentle, please."

"Of course, sweet girl." A promise, a tell-tale sign that you could trust him, that you could let go — then you arch again when Manjiro buries himself entirely, a brutal thrust that makes you completely forget about the ring on his left ring finger

You feel like your insides are being rearranged as Manjiro penetrates you, then pulls himself into a rhythm you don't know. It's like something inside you is getting caught that it goes with the man's cock, pulling outside of your cunt—

Your nipple is getting abused, Manjiro's mouth biting again—

Thrusting in then out until you climaxed again and you don't want anything inside you anymore because it hurts, you can't keep going—

It keeps going... and you must have said stop a lot of times—

"You won't leave me, right, baby?" Then your body flips over, your stomach on the sheets— "You're mine to play with— mine to fuck—"

You can only cry in response.

(You wake up, face pressed flush on the pillow, with your body rocking back and forth. Eyelids fluttering open, drool cascading down your cheek and chin. The pillow is wet, not damp, soaking through the cotton along with the warm sweat. Sleep clings to your brain, head heady as your body steadily moves against the sheet by another body on top of you.

A familiar weight, heavy and too hot that Manjiro's sweat sticks against the friction. Rough breaths and grunts blow right above your head. You feel full, a pressure in your belly, something moving inside you too deep, too big. The painful stretch is back, sliding slowly in and out. Feels like minutes, hours, hooking in something that makes you jolt, a kiss on your cervix that makes you cry. That dread that pools inside your womb, the abuse of your cunt breaking into the shape of Manjiro's cock—

Manjiro shushes you, trying to calm the raging beats of your heart as you choke on your whimpers, sobbing as your cunt quivers. Your hands grip the sheets, toes pointing, and you're too tired to fight, too tired to say stop when pleasure brings you to orgasm again and again, until you hear a murmur, a vibration on your back, and a kiss on your temple—

Such a good girl — another grinding thrust, another pressure inside your cunt and you feel full again—

—a good girl only for me. )

You wake up, eyes blurring and your head feeling like it was splitting open. Blinking your eyes open, you watch the blur clear into an unfamiliar ceiling. Too plain, devoid of your white canopy and crown moulding around the perimeter and the chandelier you have up in your room. You close your eyes, not thinking about anything because of your headache but then you feel it— the pain all over your body, fragments of what you did the night before comes rushing back, causing your head to ache even more.

Then, you look beside you and realize the space in the bed is empty and cold. You make attempts to move, curling upwards to sit— but fuck, it hurts. Everything really, really hurts. The pain radiates through your body, each movement reminding you of the events from the night before. The sheets feel rough against your skin, foreign, and you can't shake the feeling of wrongness that clings to you like a second skin. As you manage to sit up, you wince, every inch of you protesting the motion. The room spins slightly, your headache intensifying, but it's nothing compared to the heaviness in your chest.

Manjiro’s penthouse is silent, save for the distant hum of the city outside. The space beside you is cold, the imprint of his body long gone. Your heart sinks as you realize that you're alone. You glance around, the stark, minimalistic decor of his room adding to the emptiness you feel inside. It’s nothing like the romantic scenes you once imagined—soft sheets, warm bodies entwined in mutual affection. No, this is far from what you fantasized your first time would be like.

You wrap the sheet around your body, trying to cover yourself, as if that could shield you from the raw reality of what just happened. The events of the night flood your mind in disjointed flashes—Manjiro’s rough hands on your skin, the way he moved, the sensation of being overpowered. It wasn’t what you wanted, not really. You had hoped for something gentle, something meaningful. But what you got was far from it.

Self-loathing begins to settle in, heavy and suffocating. You can’t help but think that this is your fault. You let it happen. You let him take you in a moment of weakness, of misplaced trust. And now, the aftermath is like a stain you can’t wash away, a mark on your soul that you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to erase. The way he treated you, so rough, so careless—it makes you feel small, used, and insignificant.

Tears prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with Manjiro, or at least you thought you did. But the reality is so much harsher than you could have ever imagined. You wanted to be close to him, to be someone he cherished, but now you’re not even sure what you are to him. A plaything? A distraction? The thought twists in your gut, making you feel even more hollow.

You glance down at yourself, at the bruises forming on your skin, evidence of the roughness you endured. It makes you sick to your stomach. You feel dirty and tainted as if his touch has left a permanent mark on you that you’ll never be able to scrub away. You wanted your first time to be special, to be with someone who loved you, but all you’re left with is this—an empty bed in an unfamiliar room and a deep, gnawing regret. You were a rich kid but you were also hidden away. You can have secret affairs like the ones in the movies. You thought this would be exactly that. A steamy but love filled passionate encounter and you'd wake up next to him giggling like a child while he smothers your face with kisses and asks if you're hungry.

But no.

Manjiro is not here.

The silence in the penthouse is deafening, amplifying the echo of your self-loathing. You feel like a stain, something ugly and unwanted. No matter how much you try to rationalize it, to tell yourself that this is what you chose, the reality is that you feel broken. You curl into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to find some comfort in the small space you occupy, but it does nothing to ease the pain, both physical and emotional.

The fantasy you once had of love, of intimacy, has been shattered, replaced by this cold, empty reality. There is a knock on the door and for a moment you hope it's Manjiro but why would he knock on his own bedroom door? In enters Kakucho instead. He's holding a bag and has a small smile on his face. "hey sweetheart" he enters cautiously, like you’re a hurt child

Kakucho closes the door behind him and sits down in front of you, cups your cheek and kisses your temple like a child too. He's treating you like a child and it's on purpose. Kakucho’s gentle touch feels like a stark contrast to everything you’ve just been through. His presence, so calm and tender, makes your chest ache even more. You can see it in his eyes—he knows. He knows what happened, and the way he’s treating you only deepens your sense of shame. It’s like he’s confirming what you already fear: that you’re broken, something to be pitied. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says again, his voice soft, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he speaks any louder.

His hand lingers on your cheek, warm and steady, a grounding touch that you desperately want to lean into but can't. The small smile he gives you is meant to be comforting, but it only makes you feel more fragile. Kakucho was here to be damage control probably. For what? For Manjiro leaving? Maybe. You don't know, you don't care. You just wanted Manjiro here in the morning with you. It wasn't like you were asking him to buy you the moon. You just wanted him to stay and you thought that would be given considering he took your virginity but apparently not. You had been at his office sitting at his feet like a puppy, then in his lap drinking out of a crystal cup then underneath him like a damn whore.

You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat, strangled by the lump of emotions that refuses to let you breathe. Kakucho doesn’t push; he just waits, his presence a silent reassurance that he’s here for you. But it’s not what you want. You don’t want to be coddled, to be treated like a child who doesn’t understand what’s happening. You want to be strong, to brush off the pain and the disappointment, but you can’t. Not with the way he’s looking at you, not with the way he’s making it clear that he sees you as something that needs to be taken care of. Kakucho places the bag down beside him, but you barely notice. Your mind is too tangled in the mess of feelings swirling inside you. He shifts closer, pulling you into a soft embrace. The warmth of his body against yours should be comforting, but instead, it only serves as a reminder of what you didn’t get—what you thought you would have with Manjiro. “It's okay,” Kakucho whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m here.”

His words should be a balm, but they only deepen the wound. You don’t want him to be here. You want Manjiro. You want the version of him you built up in your head, the one who would have held you afterward, who would have made you feel loved, wanted, and cherished. But that Manjiro doesn’t exist, and all you have is the cold reality of what happened. Kakucho pulls back slightly, searching your eyes with a look of concern. “I brought you some things,” he says, nodding toward the bag. “Clothes, some painkillers... whatever you need. It's a good thing I know all the products you use, hm? Woke up early to bring 'em all for you”

You glance at the bag, but it feels distant, and unimportant. Everything feels distant. The pain in your body, the bruises, the emptiness inside—they all blend together into a haze that you can’t quite shake off. Kakucho’s kindness, his attempt to care for you, only makes you feel more like a burden, like someone who needs to be fixed. You once again feel like the damn stain Kaya and her mother treat you like. You’re not sure how long you sit there in silence, wrapped in Kakucho’s embrace. Time seems to lose meaning, each second stretching out into an eternity. All you can think about is how you ended up here, in this place, in this situation. The fantasy you had is gone, replaced by the harsh light of reality, and it’s so much worse than you ever imagined. Eventually, Kakucho pulls away, his eyes still filled with that same concern. “You should get cleaned up,” he suggests gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “You’ll feel better. Then we'll get some food and I'll take you home”

You nod mechanically, though you don’t really believe him. You don’t think anything will make you feel better. But you force yourself to move, to stand up on shaky legs, to accept the clothes Kakucho offers you from the bag. As you do, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror across the room, and the sight makes you freeze.

You barely recognize the person staring back at you. Your hair is a mess, your eyes red and swollen, and the bruises on your skin stand out like dark, ugly marks against your pale flesh. You look like a ghost, haunted by the memories of the night before, and the sight makes you feel sick all over again. Never in your life have you ever let yourself look like that.

This ugly.

(never will you let yourself look like this again)

Kakucho follows your gaze, and you see the flicker of sadness in his eyes. He knows what you’re seeing, what you’re feeling. But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gently guides you toward the bathroom, his hand steady on your back.

You hesitate at the threshold, the thought of being alone with your reflection unbearable. But Kakucho is there, his presence a steady reassurance that you’re not entirely alone, even if it feels that way. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and step into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

As you strip off the sheet and step under the hot spray of the shower, you try to wash away the stains of the night before—the bruises, the memories, the regret. But no matter how hard you scrub, the feeling lingers, a constant reminder that some stains can’t be washed away.

notes: chapter four has finally seen the light of day! I just want to say I accidently wrote the smut in third pov while imagining someone else as reader so if at any point you come across any terms that describe reader's body, skin, hair, etc. that is not inclusive, please let me know so I can change it :) I edited it the best I could but don't hesitate to lmk.

Also there was going to be a Kaya appearance in this chapter but I decided against it. My original intention with this series has changes btw but the ending will still be somewhat the same.

anyways,,, no aftercare on screen from Manjiro but kind of aftercare from kakucho??? you win some you lose some I guess 🤷‍♀️ I listened to Cherry by Lana Del Ray while writing the smut scene and the whole thing with Kakucho. I would apologize for the shitty pacing of this chapter but honestly, I could care less. I know most of it is pretty vague but then again, are you ever actually aware of your surroundings or what is going on when your heart is being torn apart?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)

likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

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