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candyeager · 16 days ago

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𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

— sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

PART TWO 10.1k words

short summary. in which your heartbreak over Mikey pulls you into the dangerous and irresistible orbit of Bonten's Number Two, Haruchiyo Sanzu. warnings. sanzu haruchiyo is his own warning, graphic violence, substance abuse, toxic/manipulative relationships, explicit sexual content, depression & self-destructive behaviour, strong language. tags. female reader insert, bonten au, tsundere!sanzu, ex-boyfriend!mikey, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, heavy pining/yearning.

masterlist

Manjiro Sano never hurts you—not physically, at least—though the emotional havoc he's wreaked has left you unraveling. But what you face now is something entirely different.

Haruchiyo Sanzu's grip is iron-clad, dragging you away from Mikey's door with no regard for your protests. His fingers dig into your wrist like vices, the pressure biting deep into your skin until the pain is sharp and throbbing. It radiates up your arm, but even that ache is dull compared to the hollow devastation gnawing at your chest. The image of Mikey with her—so close, so intimate—burns behind your eyelids every time you blink.

It's as though the world around you has ceased to exist. You can't even register the hallways passing by as Sanzu hauls you through them, his erratic pace nearly causing you to stumble. You feel like a ragdoll in his grasp, powerless, your heart beating out of sync with reality.

Kakucho's voice filters through the numbness. "Sanzu... what are you doing?"

There's concern in his tone, but he stays planted where he is, as if crossing that line would be dangerous.

Sanzu doesn't slow, doesn't even glance at him. His lips curl into a sneer as cold as the concrete walls.

"Taking care of a stray," he bites, yanking you closer as though you might slip from his grip.

The words sting, but not as much as what follows.

Kakucho's frown deepens, but he's hesitant. "You sure you wanna do that? She's—"

Sanzu cuts him off, sharp and merciless. "She's nothing. A nobody. Mikey made that pretty fucking clear, didn't he?"

Nothing. A nobody.

Each word hits you with the force of a physical blow. Whatever you were to Mikey, whatever you thought you had—it's been ripped away, stripped down to these ugly truths.

You're nothing now.

Kakucho's gaze flickers to you, sympathy and uncertainty mingling in his dark eyes. But you can't meet them. You drop your head, staring at the floor as though it holds all the answers you need. Maybe if you don't look, you won't have to acknowledge what Sanzu just said. Maybe you can pretend you didn't hear it.

Mikey doesn't want you anymore.

"Stop this," Kakucho urges, stepping forward now, his movements careful, deliberate. "You're high. This isn't going to end well, you know that."

Sanzu's eyes snap up, wild and feral, like a predator guarding its kill. "Exactly." His voice drops to a venomous whisper. "So back the fuck off before I kill you too."

The tension between them is palpable, but Kakucho eventually steps back, his jaw tight with barely suppressed anger. He's seen what Sanzu is capable of when he's in this state. They all have.

"Just don't go too far," Kakucho mutters, his voice tight, his eyes flicking to you one last time before he steps aside. His reluctance lingers, but in the end, he's still letting you be dragged away.

Ran, sprawled lazily on the couch, barely lifts his head as he calls after Sanzu. "Mission's at nine. Try not to be dead before then."

Sanzu pays no mind to either of them. His grip tightens, and you're dragged deeper into Bonten's labyrinthine corridors, every step taking you further from any hope of intervention.

He pulls you into a small room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle your bones. A click follows—the lock sliding into place—and you're alone. Alone with him.

The room is stark, clinical, a conference table dominating the space with its polished wood surface and neatly lined chairs. But there's nothing neat about what's happening now. The moment Sanzu shoves you against the table, hard enough that the edge bites into your lower back, the sterile, formal atmosphere of the room is obliterated.

His hand shoots up, fingers wrapping around your throat. The pressure is immediate, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurs at the edges. You gasp instinctively, hands flying to his wrist, nails scraping against his skin, but he's too strong. His hold tightens further, cutting off more of your air, and panic grips you.

He leans in, his breath hot against your face, laced with the stench of drugs. His expression is wild, unhinged, pupils dilated and blown wide with intoxication. But beneath the drugs, there's something else—an anger, a bitterness that has nothing to do with you, but is aimed at you all the same.

"Now..." His voice is low, almost a growl. "What more do I need to do to make you understand? You don't fucking belong here."

Your lungs burn, your head spinning as your fingers claw at his hand. I don't belong here? The thought pierces through your fog of fear. Maybe he's right. You're not sure of anything anymore—not after Mikey, not after what you saw.

You can't breathe, and everything is turning dark. Sanzu's face, his mocking grin, is the only thing in focus.

Tears well up, spilling over your lashes. But you're not crying because of the physical pain. It's the emotional torment that's killing you. The crushing realization that you are utterly, completely alone. No one's coming to save you.

Sanzu watches as you choke on your own sobs, and he laughs, low and cold. "Already crying?" he mocks. "I haven't even started yet."

But the tears won't stop. The dam inside you breaks, and you're gasping, sobbing uncontrollably in front of him. You can't take it anymore. Not this. Not after what Mikey's done to you.

"Just..." You choke on the words, your voice broken and hoarse. "Just fucking kill me already."

For a moment, there's silence. Then, his grip on your neck loosens just enough to let you breathe. You gasp, sucking in precious air, coughing as your lungs fight for life. But the relief is short-lived.

Sanzu's face hovers inches from yours, his smirk growing, eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. "Kill you?" His tone is soft now, condescending. "Nah. That's too easy."

His fingers trace the curve of your jaw, rough, possessive. "I think I'd rather play with you a little longer."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands pressing against your face as tears continue to spill down your cheeks. This feels so stupid. So, so stupid. Mikey's across the hall with his wife, living his perfect life, while you're stuck here with Sanzu—his insane, drugged-up number two.

What a fucking downgrade.

Suddenly, without warning, Sanzu grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look up at him through your tear-filled eyes.

"You're pathetic," he sneers before crushing his lips against yours.

The kiss is brutal, possessive, and filled with an overwhelming heat that makes your skin crawl. You try to push him away, but his weight presses you into the table, your wrists pinned beneath his hands. It's suffocating, just like his grip on your throat.

And then you taste it. Something bitter and foreign sliding past your lips. Your eyes widen in horror as you realize what he's doing.

He pulls back, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, "Swallow."

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. No way. You're not going to swallow that. You try to spit it out, but his hand clamps down over your mouth, smothering any attempt to resist.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," he murmurs, his tone soft but filled with menace. "Be a good girl... and swallow."

His words slither into your ears, so sweet and venomous all at once, poisoning what little willpower you have left. You want to fight him. You want to scream and tear away from him, but you can't. Your body is too sluggish, too weak to resist, and part of you doesn't want to.

It wants him to be right.

It's easier, isn't it? To let him take control. To stop resisting and just give in, let the numbness wash over you. Maybe then the pain of everything—of Mikey, of the betrayal, of this twisted mess—will fade, even just for a moment.

"I said swallow," Sanzu hisses, his patience thinning. "That. Shit."

You finally swallow the pill, the bitterness lingering on your tongue like a promise you'll regret. The drug settles deep inside you, blooming warmth spreading through your chest like wildfire, but there's no comfort in it. It only intensifies the chaos swirling in your mind—the betrayal, the loss, the desire to escape. It all collides in a sickening wave, leaving you gasping, clinging to the edge of the table as your body betrays you.

Sanzu watches you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl, his eyes dark, wide, and hungry. He's waiting. Waiting for the drug to take hold, waiting for you to crumble.

"Good girl," he breathes, and the words slide over your skin, soft and menacing. His gaze lingers, tracing every tremor in your body, every stifled breath.

The drug spreads quickly—too quickly. The next thing you know the room is spinning violently, the floor tipping beneath your feet, and you're stumbling as warmth floods your limbs. You try to steady yourself, but your body feels too light, too hot, like you're floating, disconnected from reality. Your breath quickens, panic swelling in your chest as your senses sharpen, every touch, every sound amplified to unbearable levels.

Sanzu's hands are still on you, his touch electric, sending jolts through your skin. You gasp, your heart racing as the euphoria spreads, tangling with the devastation inside you, turning everything into a dizzying blur of sensation. You can barely breathe, and yet, in the haze of it all, a part of you is aware of his gaze, watching you intently, reveling in your reaction.

"First time's always the best. You might cry, you might like it. Who knows?" He laughs, a quiet, sinister sound that rattles through your bones.

You choke on a sob, the tears spilling over as the drug overtakes you, drowning you in heat and haze. Your body feels foreign, your mind too foggy to comprehend anything other than the intensity of it all. You want to fight it, fight him, but there's nothing to hold on to—nothing but him.

And that terrifies you.

"Let go," he murmurs, his voice is low, almost a purr, and you can feel his breath against your ear as he leans in closer. "Let it take over... Forget everything and just feel."

Your body acts before your mind can catch up, your hand clutching the front of his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. It's an instinctual, desperate motion, driven by something deep inside—a need for warmth, for something to hold on to. You can't explain it, but you crave him now, the heat of his body, the solidity of his presence. You pull him closer, though you don't even understand why, though it feels all wrong.

"Look at you..." Sanzu's chuckle is dark, amused. "Hanging onto me like that. Lost little thing, aren't you? So pathetic."

But he leans in anyway, his breath brushing against your neck as he speaks. His proximity feels like a lifeline, shielding you from the blinding lights that seem to intensify with every passing second. The room tilts, but his voice anchors you, even as it weaves dirty, degrading things in your ear—things that make your stomach twist, yet ignite something you don't want to acknowledge.

Your heart races, breath coming in ragged bursts. Everything is too intense—his touch, his words, the sensation of your body betraying you. You don't understand this feeling, this mixture of euphoria and humiliation. It's confusing, overwhelming, and yet, you can't shake the craving. The need for more.

His touch, his heat.

Then, without warning, he steps back.

The sudden absence of him is like a cold slap to the face, leaving you breathless and cold. Your body aches for the warmth he took with him, for the closeness that you didn't even know you craved. You hate it. You hate the emptiness he leaves behind.

He adjusts his waistcoat with a casual smirk, like this was all just a game to him, like your unraveling was just another form of entertainment.

"You're on your own now," he says, his voice detached, distant. "Enjoy the ride."

And just like that, he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You're left sprawled across the table, the world spinning, lights burning into your skull. Your limbs are heavy, useless, and you try to move, to escape the overwhelming heat and dizziness suffocating you, but your body won't cooperate. You tumble to the floor, the carpet catching your fall with a soft thud.

A giggle bubbles up from your throat, though you don't know why. Everything feels distant, like you're floating, detached from reality. The warmth of the drug mingles with the cold ache of abandonment, creating a disorienting swirl of emotions that you can't make sense of.

And so you lie there, lost in the haze, your body sinking deeper into the plush floor as the laughter fades, leaving only the hollow emptiness behind.

Until, finally, the world pulls you into the darkness of sleep.

Manjiro Sano never cheated on you before. You've known him for nine years—nine long years where loyalty was never questioned, not once. He's never strayed, never looked at another woman the way he looks at you. That was the truth you clung to through all the chaos, the violence, the bloodshed. But tonight, the foundation of that truth crumbles before your eyes.

When you catch him with his wife, it's not exactly cheating, is it? Not when she's the one wearing the ring. Not when she's the one he made vows to. And yet, it feels like betrayal. If anything, you're the other woman now. Your position, the one you held so dearly, has shifted, without your consent.

He's the one betraying her, not you. But that logic doesn't make the pain any easier to bear. It still cuts deep, searing through you with what you had just witnessed in Mikey's office. You thought you were strong enough to endure it, thought you could compartmentalize the ache gnawing at your insides. You were wrong. The sight of them together burns itself into your mind like a wound that refuses to heal.

Until Sanzu forced that pill down your throat.

The memory floods back, vivid and suffocating. His twisted grin, the roughness of his hands, the way he made you feel so helpless. But now? Now you feel the strangest relief. The aching wound in your chest—the one Mikey and his wife carved out—fades into a distant blur, replaced by a creeping, unnatural numbness. Your mind is hazy, clouded, but in that haze, you find comfort.

The world felt kinder in that numbness. And for a moment, you were almost grateful for the relief Sanzu gave you. Almost.

When you wake up, the high is gone, leaving behind a pounding headache and a body that feels stiff, heavy, like someone drained the life from you. The floor feels strange under your hands, cold and unfamiliar. You blink, trying to orient yourself, and realize you're not on the floor anymore. Someone moved you—you're sprawled across the couch in the executive lounge, a blanket thrown haphazardly over you like an afterthought.

Your body screams in discomfort, muscles sore, your skin aching where his hands had pressed too hard. But the pain is secondary to the memories—Sanzu. That damn pill. The way he—

"You're awake."

The voice cuts through the fog in your mind, and your head snaps to the side. Mikey sits in a chair not far from you, the dim light casting shadows across his face. He's watching you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes are different. Tired.

The night stretches behind him through the window, a dark sky lit by city lights. The office is quiet. Everyone else is gone. Even Sanzu.

It's just you and Mikey now.

You don't answer him. The ache in your chest resurfaces, sharper this time, suffocating as the image of him and his wife flashes in your mind again. It hits harder now, with Mikey sitting right in front of you, looking at you.

You push yourself up, your body swaying under the weight of exhaustion and leftover dizziness. Your throat is sore, bruised, where Sanzu's fingers had pressed too hard, too rough, forcing. You reach up instinctively, wincing at the tenderness, and you catch Mikey's gaze drop to your neck.

His jaw clenches. The air between you shifts—heavy, tense.

"He won't touch you again."

His voice is low, soft, but there's a dangerous edge beneath it, one that sends a chill through your veins. You know that tone. It's the tone he uses before someone dies.

You swallow, the reality sinking in. What has Mikey done? What did he do to Sanzu? The thought twists in your gut, unease settling deep inside you, but part of you pushes the thought away. Sanzu deserves whatever he gets, doesn't he? After what he did?

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Forget about that... He gave me something. A pill."

Mikey's face shifts, unreadable for a moment, then he shrugs. "A pill? X, probably. He does that sometimes. Are you alright?"

That makes sense. No wonder you passed out so quickly. But it doesn't ease the anger boiling inside you, doesn't take away the humiliation of letting Sanzu drag you deeper into his twisted games when you were already at your lowest.

"I'm fine," you bite out, though it feels like a lie.

Fine? You're far from fine.

The words hang in the air, sharp, bitter, and when you look at Mikey, the ache in your chest becomes unbearable. You're not sure if it's anger or heartbreak that makes it so hard to breathe.

"Mikey..." you begin again, your voice cracking slightly, the words lodged in your throat. It's harder than you thought to say it, because once it's out, there's no taking it back.

"We can't just pretend like nothing's changed."

He doesn't look at you at first. He just stares at the floor, his jaw clenched tight, as though he's trying to force himself to say something, but can't. The silence stretches on painfully before he finally speaks, his voice so low you almost don't hear him.

"I know things are different." Each word sounds forced, like it's taking every ounce of strength for him to admit it. "But..."

Your heart clenches, your breath catching in your throat. There's always a 'but' with him, isn't there? Always some excuse, some reason why things can't go back to the way they were.

"But what, Mikey?" you ask, unable to stop yourself. It's not anger that drives you this time, but the desperation clawing at your insides. "You have feelings for her now, don't you?"

You watch him as he exhales slowly, his face still calm, almost detached. You wish he would say something, anything, to ease the ache in your chest. But he doesn't.

"I do," he says, his voice distant. It's a confession that feels like a knife to your heart. "I can't deny that. She's... she's gonna have my kid. It's not simple anymore."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew it, deep down, but hearing him say it aloud makes it real in a way you weren't prepared for. The sharp, bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the back of your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions from spilling over, but your voice wavers when you speak again.

"And us?"

The question slips out, soft and fragile, but it cuts deeper than anything you've said before. You're asking about more than just your relationship—you're asking about the nine years you gave him, about the promises he made, about the love you once believed was unbreakable.

Mikey's eyes finally meet yours, and for a brief moment, you see the boy you once knew—the boy who swore he'd never leave you, who promised you forever under the stars when you were both too young to understand what that meant. His gaze softens for a second, a flicker of something almost tender, almost apologetic.

"I still care about you," he says, his voice low but steady. There's no hesitation in his tone, no doubt. But it's not the answer you were hoping for. "That hasn't changed."

But it has.

The truth of that slams into you with crushing finality. You shake your head, the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating you.

"Oh, it has, Mikey," you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "You know that."

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Mikey doesn't argue, doesn't try to convince you otherwise. He just leans back in his chair, his hands falling limp at his sides, as though he's too exhausted to fight anymore. There's a defeat in his posture that wasn't there before, as if even he knows this is the end.

You want to scream at him, demand why it took him so long to be honest, why he let things fall apart so silently. But the words won't come. All that's left is the ache, the unbearable knowledge that the man you've loved for nearly a decade is slipping further away from you with every passing second.

Mikey looks like he's about to say something, his lips parting slightly, but then he falters, his shoulders sagging under the weight of whatever he's holding back.

"Maybe," he murmurs after a moment, his voice so soft you almost miss it. For the first time, he sounds vulnerable. "But I don't want to lose you. I can't..."

His voice breaks, just a little, and that cracks something inside of you too. Because it sounds like the truth, like the rawness of his feelings is finally breaking through the cold exterior he always wears. Nine years together, and this is where it's come to—a place where even his honesty feels too late. Too hollow. You know it's not enough. It never will be.

You don't want to lose him either. You don't want to believe that all those years meant nothing. But deep down, you know it already has. The moment she became his wife, the moment he chose her, you lost this battle. The war in your heart is over, and all that remains is the wreckage of what once was.

"You're already losing me," you whisper, the finality of it sinking in. Each word feels like a dagger in your own chest. "When you started choosing her, Mikey."

Mikey doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He just sits there, silent and still, like he's frozen in time. Maybe he doesn't have the strength to argue. Maybe, deep down, he knows it's true. He's losing you, and there's nothing left he can do to stop it.

You don't wait for his answer anymore. You've spent too long waiting for him to decide, too long hoping for a future that's already gone. The pain in your body—your aching muscles, the soreness from Sanzu's rough touch—it all fades into the background, drowned out by the unbearable weight of your broken heart.

You push yourself to your feet, your legs shaking slightly under the strain. But you don't let yourself falter. You can't, not now.

"You need to figure this out on your own," you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong. Your words are an ultimatum, a final plea for him to understand what he's done.

"'Because I can't keep waiting for you to choose me. I'm not meant to be an option. I'm worth more than that."

There's nothing left to say. The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of goodbye. Mikey doesn't move, doesn't speak, and that hurts more than anything else. He's letting you walk away.

Without another word, you turn and head toward the elevator. Each step feels like a thousand miles, like you're walking out of his life for good. And maybe you are. Maybe this is the end you've been dreading for so long.

The elevator doors close behind you with a soft click, and in the quiet of the enclosed space, the tears finally come. They fall silently at first, warm trails down your cheeks, but you don't wipe them away.

As the elevator descends, you let the tears flow freely. The weight of the years, the memories, the love you poured into him—it all hits you at once, and you don't stop it. You don't need to hide from the truth anymore.

Manjiro Sano has killed before. The thought of it had once terrified you, the cold certainty in his eyes when he spoke of violence always chilling.

You know this because you asked him, point-blank, one night when the weight of his world became too much to ignore. He didn't tell you directly, but the silence that followed, the coldness in his eyes, was answer enough. In that moment, the boy you knew, the boy you loved, disappeared into the shadows of the man he had become.

Still, you accepted him. Loved him anyway. You convinced yourself it was the only way to keep him—by accepting all of him, even the parts you couldn't bear to understand. You've always found a way to justify it—his actions, his choices, the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. Because loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. It became an instinct, a reflex, something that felt inevitable.

But now, the uncertainty gnaws at you, harder than ever before. Not just the heaviness of knowing who he is, but the gnawing question of what he's capable of—what he's done to the people around him.

What he's done to Sanzu.

Your mind races, replaying every detail of your last conversation with Mikey. The hard edge to his voice, the finality in his words. If Mikey killed him, it's because of you, isn't it? Because of what Sanzu did to you.

If Sanzu's dead, then his blood is on your hands.

That thought lodges itself deep in your chest, a weight too heavy to shake. Even after everything—after the drug, the violence, the way he pushed you to the edge—you can't stomach the idea of Sanzu dying because of you.

Which is why you find yourself here again, standing outside Sanzu's condominium in the middle of the night, your heart pounding so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts.

Mikey's words echo in your mind—his cold, distant voice, the final crack in everything you thought you knew about him. The realization had shattered you in ways you hadn't been prepared for.

It's over.

The words taste bitter on your tongue, but they ring with a truth that you can't deny. The boy you loved, the man you thought you'd stand beside forever—he's gone. And in his place is someone you no longer recognize.

Your feet move almost on their own as you approach Sanzu's door, but a hesitation stops you just before you reach the doorbell. Do you even know what you're doing here? What you want? You aren't sure. But the pull toward him, toward finding out what Mikey's done, is stronger than your doubts.

With a shaky breath, you press the doorbell. The silence that follows is deafening, punctuated only by the racing of your heart. Each second that passes feels like a lifetime, until finally, the shuffle of footsteps inside tells you someone's there.

The door swings open with a creak, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. Relief washes over you—but only for a second. What replaces it is a sharp stab of pity.

Sanzu looks like hell. His one eye is swollen and bruised, a fresh bandage covering the right side of his face. His lips are split and caked with dried blood, a sight that twists something deep in your chest.

His trademark sneer is still there, but it's marred by the pain that's evident in the way he stands, slightly hunched, favoring one side. There's an anger in his eyes, but behind it, you can see the weariness, the vulnerability he would never admit to.

"What the fuck do you want now?" Sanzu snaps, his voice sharp despite the obvious discomfort he's in. He's trying to sound like his usual self, but you can tell the fight has been knocked out of him. He's hurting. Badly.

Your mouth opens to respond, the words on the tip of your tongue, but they die there. Seeing him like this—broken, battered—it's not what you expected. It shakes something loose inside of you. Your eyes scan his injuries, your mind reeling with the knowledge that Mikey did this. The boy you loved did this.

Mikey isn't supposed to be this brutal. Not with his own.

The thought makes your chest tighten painfully, and before you can stop it, the tidal wave of emotion crashes over you. Tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. You thought you'd cried all the tears you had to give tonight, but this time, they come from a place deeper than heartbreak. This time, you're crying for everything—for Mikey, for Sanzu, for the person you've become in all this mess.

Sanzu's sneer fades slightly as he takes in the sight of you, replaced by an annoyed scowl. He's trying to hide his discomfort, but you can see the confusion in his eyes.

"What are you, a child? Stop crying!" His words are rough, but there's an edge of bewilderment in them.

He doesn't understand why you're here, why you're crying.

But you can't stop. The sobs come hard and fast, tearing through you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. You're overwhelmed, consumed by the realization that Mikey is no longer the man you fell in love with. When did he start to change? When did the violence become more than just a part of his world, but a part of him?

Sanzu watches you, his irritation growing as your sobs continue. He's never been good with emotions—especially not yours.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand across his face and wincing as he touches the bruise. "You're crying over him, huh? You think he even cares?"

His words hit you like a slap, and more tears fall, a pitiful, uncontrollable mess. And in that moment, you don't care. You don't care that Sanzu's dangerous, that he's hurt you before, that he's the reason you ended up here in the first place. All you can think about is the fact that Mikey—your Mikey—is gone.

He's no longer the boy who used to hold you late at night, whispering promises of a future that now feels like a distant dream. He's no longer the man who looked at you like you were his entire world.

He's no longer yours.

Sanzu scoffs, the sound harsh in the quiet hallway. "Fuck's sake, will you stop that whining?"

But even his sharp words don't reach you.

When you don't respond, don't even acknowledge him, something in Sanzu snaps. He can't stand it anymore—the emotions, the tears, the fact that you're standing here crying over someone else while he's falling apart.

"Goddammit!" he snarls, and before you can blink, he slams the door in your face.

The sound echoes in the empty hallway, a loud, final punctuation to the moment. You're left standing there, your body trembling as the sobs finally start to quiet, though the tears continue to stream down your cheeks. You're alone again, and the weight of that reality hits you harder than anything else.

Mikey is gone. And so is the life you thought you'd have.

Manjiro Sano hated seeing you cry. Every time your tears would spill, it was like the world stopped spinning. His face would twist in pain, even if the tears weren't his fault. He once said that when you cried, it felt like he had failed—like he should have protected you from whatever caused them.

He always pulled you into his arms when you broke down, his touch so gentle it was almost unreal. He would stroke your hair, whispering that everything was okay, hiding you in the crook of his shoulder so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

But that Mikey? That Mikey is long gone.

Now you're standing outside Sanzu's condo unit, your fingers shaking as you try to dry your tear-streaked face. The cold air bites at your skin, or maybe it's the weight of what's happened tonight that chills you to the bone.

The second time you've cried in front of Sanzu today.

The first time, his hands were around your throat, forcing a pill past your lips, his eyes distant and clouded with drugs. The second time, there was no pill, no high to hide behind—just bruises, pain, and a door slammed in your face.

You shouldn't have come here, but at least you know he's alive. Mikey hadn't killed him, though something in the pit of your stomach told you it could have easily gone that way. You should feel relieved. Instead, the relief is mingled with anger, a deep-seated frustration that makes your heart pound even harder.

Just as you wipe away the last tear, the door swings open again.

Sanzu stands in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the dim light inside. His scowl deepens as his eyes land on you, scanning your face like he's surprised you're still standing there.

Then, without a word, he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, slamming the door shut behind you. His grip is rough, but it loosens as soon as you're inside, leaving you stunned and blinking in the middle of his condo unit.

He disappears into another room and comes back with a box of tissues, shoving it toward you without a word. You take it, still in shock, as your eyes land on the bandage on his cheek. It's crooked, slapped on without much care, and his busted lip is still untreated, blood crusting around the edges, making him look even more broken than usual. You flinch inwardly at the sight.

"Did you get that wound treated?" Your voice is softer than you intended, concern slipping through the cracks in your resolve.

Sanzu glares at you. "What's it to you?"

You ignore his harshness, stepping closer. "You need to clean it properly," you say as your eyes fall to the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, scars you've always tried not to stare at too long.

"Or it'll leave... a scar."

"Yeah? So what?" he mutters, brushing off your concern as he walks away.

You stare at him, the words catching in your throat. The sight of him—bruised and bandaged sloppily—somehow makes your chest ache in ways you don't fully understand.

"Don't you have any antiseptic?" you ask, turning toward the door. "I'll go buy some if—"

"I have it," he grunts, cutting you off. "Top shelf, next to you. You'd think I wouldn't know how to deal with a damn wound in this line of work?"

You glance at the haphazard bandage on his cheek, clearly not impressed by his self-care. Still, you open the shelf and retrieve a small emergency kit.

"Then why didn't you treat the cut on your lip?" you ask, your voice a little firmer this time as you sit on the edge of his couch. "Surely you know you need to put antiseptic on it."

Sanzu grumbles under his breath, looking away. "Because... it fucking hurts, alright?"

You freeze for a second, blinking at him in surprise. Sanzu—the man who seems to thrive on chaos and pain—can't handle the sting of a simple cut? It's almost absurd, and yet, in that moment, you glimpse a flicker of something real beneath his usual mask. Vulnerability.

"I didn't think you were afraid of pain," you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

"I'm not afraid of it," he snaps, his voice rising defensively. "I just fucking hate it."

There's a childishness in his tone that catches you off guard, like he's throwing a tantrum rather than admitting weakness. The outburst lingers in the air for a moment before you decide to ignore it, reaching for the antiseptic in the first aid kit.

"Let me treat it." Your voice is calm, quiet. An olive branch, if only he'd take it.

Sanzu stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowing. "Forget it," he mutters, brushing you off. "I don't need you all over my business."

"You're a dick, you know that?" you say, watching him limp slightly as he heads toward the pantry. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach.

He doesn't even glance back as he opens the fridge, retrieving a beer. "And I get paid for it," he replies, voice flat, devoid of his usual smugness.

You roll your eyes as he cracks the can open, lifting it to his lips, his pink hair a mess, like he's been through more than just a fight with Mikey. The black shirt and sweatpants he's wearing make him look almost... domestic. It hits you, suddenly—this familiarity, this strange sense of calm despite everything. It reminds you of Mikey, the way he used to walk around your apartment. The way things used to be.

Your heart twists.

"We broke up," you blurt out, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. It's like ripping off a bandage—quick and painful, but it has to be done.

Sanzu pauses mid-sip, his back still turned to you. You watch as he downs the rest of the beer in one long gulp, crushing the can in his hand before tossing it aside.

"'Bout time. I'm surprised it took him this long to figure it out," he mutters, but his words lack bite. There's no usual mockery, no cruelty, just... hollow indifference.

You study him, sensing the weight of his own pain, the bruises left by Mikey—not just on his body but somewhere deeper. You want to ask, to probe at the cracks in his usual defenses, but you don't. Instead, you take a breath and shift the conversation.

"I know, right?" You force a smile that feels thin, brittle. "I'm so heartbroken." The sarcasm coats your words, but it can't hide the tremor in your voice.

"You must be feeling pretty good right now, so why not do me a favor?" You motion for him to sit beside you. "Come sit here and let me treat your wounds."

Sanzu turns slowly, his eyes scanning you as if weighing your request. You can tell he's torn, that a part of him wants to accept the help, even if his pride keeps getting in the way.

You sit there, waiting, knowing that if he needed to push you away, he would've already done it. You don't say anything, just hold your ground, offering him something he's clearly not used to—genuine care.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, he mutters, the words almost begrudging, "Fine. But don't expect me to thank you."

You smile softly, shaking your head as you hold out the antiseptic. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He walks toward you, but instead of sitting next to you, he drops down on the opposite couch, legs sprawled out carelessly, almost as if daring you to come to him instead. You raise an eyebrow, the familiar exasperation rising within you.

"You could at least make it easier for me," you grumble, standing up and walking over.

There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as you sit down in front of him on the coffee table, closer now, the scent of alcohol faint but present on his breath. He watches you carefully, eyes following your movements with that predatory focus he always seems to carry, even in moments like this.

When you peel back the bandage on his cheek, revealing the jagged scrape underneath, he winces, trying but failing to hide it. You smirk despite yourself, dabbing the wound with antiseptic.

"You're such a baby," you tease, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

The reaction is immediate. "Am not," he snaps, his voice cutting through the space between you. "Don't fucking call me that again." There's a sharp edge to his words, but you can hear the vulnerability beneath it, the bruised pride of someone who's used to fighting, not being taken care of.

You ignore his outburst, focusing on his wound. This time, you're more careful, your touch gentler as you apply the ointment. His lips press into a thin line, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to sit still. There's something oddly endearing about it, watching him struggle with the idea of being vulnerable, even for a moment.

He really hates being called a baby, doesn't he?

When you finish with the bandage, you move on to his split lip, focusing on the dried blood caked around the cut. He avoids your gaze, scowling as if pretending this isn't happening.

As your fingers brush against the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, curiosity gnaws at you. Before you can stop yourself, you press a thumb to one of the scars, feeling the jagged line beneath your skin.

Sanzu jerks back, his eyes blazing as he swats your hand away. "What the hell?" he growls, the vulnerability from a moment ago vanishing beneath the weight of his anger.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back. "I got distracted."

The air between you shifts again, tense and fragile. You can tell you've touched something he doesn't want to share, a part of him that's still too raw, too guarded. And yet, you can't help but wonder what it would take for him to open up—to let you see more than just the surface.

You watch him stands abruptly in front of you, like he's about to bolt. "But I'm not done," you lie, trying to keep him there, keep the moment from slipping away.

He hesitates, glaring at you, but after a second, he sits back down with a grunt. "Whatever, just get it over with. I don't have all night to wait around."

You stay still, your hands resting in your lap as you stare at him, not moving to pick up the first aid kit again. "Can I ask you something?"

Sanzu slouches deeper into the couch, his eyes narrowing at you. "What now?"

You take a breath, steadying yourself. "How did you get those scars?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. For a moment, you expect him to laugh it off, to mock you for even asking. But instead, he just stares at you, his gaze cold and distant, like he's weighing whether or not to answer.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. "Mikey gave them to me."

The admission hits you like a punch to the gut. Mikey? Mikey did that to him? You feel your heart sink, your stomach twisting in disbelief. Judging by the faded look of the scars, it wasn't recent—this happened years ago. Long before Bonten. So why...?

"Why did he do that?" Your voice cracks, betraying the flood of emotions rising inside you.

Sanzu's eyes darken, his expression hardening. "I don't fucking remember," he snaps, his tone sharp, like he's daring you to push further.

But the look in his eyes tells you more than his words ever could. This isn't something he wants to talk about—not with you, not with anyone.

You lower your gaze, staring down at your hands as the weight of everything threatens to crush you again. The urge to cry surfaces, hot tears stinging your eyes. You've cried so much today, and in front of him of all people. It's humiliating at this point.

You stand, trying to escape the overwhelming weight of it all. "It's done. So I'll just... go," you mumble, stepping toward the door.

Before you can make it far, Sanzu's hand wraps around your wrist, his fingers cool against your skin. His grip is light, almost hesitant. You look down at where his fingers hold you, then back up at him.

"What is it?"

You can feel your voice trembling, on the verge of breaking. You're so close to falling apart, and he's just... watching.

"Want this?" he asks suddenly, holding up a bottle filled with colorful pills.

He gives it a small shake, and the pills rattle softly inside. The smirk that spreads across his face now is familiar, predatory. This is the Sanzu you know, the one you hate.

"This shit's the real deal. The other stuff I gave you earlier was just a trial run." He laughs, that low, mocking sound that makes your blood boil.

Your chest tightens as you stare at the pills, your mind flashing back to the euphoria from earlier. It had felt so good, so easy, like all the pain had vanished for a while. And yet... you narrow your eyes at him, anger replacing the temptation. How could he think you'd ever take anything from him again after what he did?

Sanzu sees the anger flash across your face, and the smirk fades. He lets go of your wrist and looks away, his expression hardening again. "Forget it. Just go."

For a moment, you almost do. You almost walk out the door and leave him behind. But something makes you stop. The way his hand had felt around your wrist, the way his voice had softened when he realized what he was offering. You glance back at him, his body tense as he stares ahead, avoiding your gaze. And suddenly, you don't want to leave anymore.

"I want it," you say quietly, turning fully to face him. "Give it to me."

Sanzu's eyes flick back to you, surprise flashing briefly before his usual sneer returns. "Fuck no," he grunts. "You think I'm gonna give you this just to watch you walk out that door?"

There's a pause. His words hang in the air, and for a split second, his eyes widen slightly, like he's just surprised himself with the admission. He hadn't meant to say that, but now it's out there—he doesn't want you to leave. Not yet.

He actually wants your company.

You can't help the bitter smile that tugs at your lips. "What, so you can choke me again?" you ask, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

His head snaps toward you, confusion etched into his features. "Huh? No. That's—" He stumbles over the words, almost defensive, like he hadn't considered how far he'd gone before.

Without waiting for him to finish, you plop down on the couch beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. You extend your hand, palm up, eyes fixed on his.

"Fine. Give me that, Sanzu."

For a moment, he doesn't move, his gaze searching your face. Then, slowly, a smirk tugs at his lips again—the same smug, infuriating expression you've come to expect from him.

Manjiro Sano has warned you more than once: avoid Sanzu when he's high. The fact that you were Mikey's girlfriend has always been enough to keep Sanzu from crossing certain lines when he's sober, but when the drugs took over, his already fragile self-control shatters.

The warning always carries weight, like a veiled threat that lingers at the back of your mind, but tonight... tonight, you don't care. You're too numb, too broken, and the reckless part of you craves the release Sanzu offers. The part of you that wants to forget Mikey.

The pill between Sanzu's fingers gleams like forbidden fruit, a dual-colored capsule that promises escape. His grin is lazy, predatory, as if the thrill of watching you self-destruct is part of his form of entertainment. Without a word, you reach for the pill, swallowing it down without hesitation. The bitter taste lingers at the back of your throat, but the anticipation of oblivion drowns out any second thoughts.

Within minutes, the edges of reality begin to blur. The room shifts, the walls breathe, and the floor ripples like water beneath your feet. Colors bleed into each other, swirling in dizzying patterns that make you feel weightless. The cool marble floor presses against your cheek as you lie sprawled on the ground, your limbs heavy yet disconnected from your body.

Above you, like a ghostly shadow, Sanzu lounges on the couch, watching you with an intensity that both unnerves and thrills you. He takes a pill of his own before the next wave hits you—stronger this time, pulling you under completely.

For a fleeting moment, you let everything go—the pain, the heartbreak, the memories of Mikey's distant eyes as you walked away from him. All the weight of your unspoken love, of your shattered heart, evaporates in the fog of euphoria. It's terrifying how easy it is to forget, to lose yourself in the numbness. But somewhere, deep in the pit of your soul, the fear lingers.

What will be left of you when the high wears off?

When you wake the next morning, reality presses you down like a vise. Your head pounds, each throb a reminder of the drug still pulsing through your system. The soft morning light filters through the unfamiliar room's windows. You blink, disoriented, trying to piece together what happened.

Right... Sanzu. You were in his condo last night, and this—this must be his bedroom.

As you shift, the soft rustle of sheets draws your attention, and your heart leaps into your throat. Sanzu lies beside you, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a wild mess of pink strands. He's half-naked, the blanket draped loosely over his hips, and for a moment, panic seizes you.

Your fingers instinctively brush over your clothes—still on, thank God. Relief washes over you, but it's fleeting. The haze of the previous night is still there, muddy and unclear, and you have no idea what happened between the two of you after you'd lost yourself to the high.

Whatever it was, it doesn't seem like you had sex with him. At least... you hope you didn't. Two people who are really high wouldn't bother to put their clothes back on after sex, right?

You sit up carefully, the bed creaking softly beneath you, and that's when you notice them—his scars. Lines of jagged, raw skin crisscross his back like a violent roadmap of his past. Some scars are old, barely visible against his pale skin, while others are fresh, still healing from whatever recent chaos he's endured.

You know that Sanzu lives in violence, that it clings to him like a second skin, but seeing the marks so intimately, so vulnerably laid bare before you—it stirs something inside you. A deep, unsettling pity, but you quickly shove it down, pushing it past the ache in your chest.

Your shift your gaze to the floor, where the bottle of pills lies tipped over, colorful capsules scattered across the marble floor. How many did you take last night? Too many, you're sure. You feel their lingering effects, the way they dull the edges of your thoughts, how they slow your movements.

Shaking off the grogginess, you move toward the door, eyes landing on the katana propped up against the wall. A glint of steel in the early light.

You pause, your hand gripping the door handle. The memory of what Sanzu did before flashes through your mind—the way he choked you, forcing the first pill down your throat. Mikey has punished him for it, but still, you felt guilty enough to treat his wounds. Then, stupidly, you let yourself get high with him again. Willingly.

But the anger still simmers under the surface. All those cruel words over the years, the taunts, the smirks, the way he looks down on you. He's infuriating. And this... this is your chance to get back at him.

Without thinking, you walk over to the katana. The hilt feels cool and foreign in your hand as you lift it, the weight of it surprising you. But you don't hesitate.

As you drag the katana behind you, the metal scraping loudly against the floor, the sound reverberates in the silent hallway. Each step feels like defiance, like a rebellion against everything Sanzu represents—the control, the twisted power he holds over you.

In the basement, you find the garbage bin. Without a second thought, you dump the katana in, the clang of steel against metal echoing in the empty space. It isn't enough to truly hurt him, but it's enough to piss him off, enough to make him notice.

And that's what you want, isn't it? To get under his skin the way he always gets under yours? To make him feel something—anything—that isn't amusement at your suffering?

As you walk away, a small, bitter smile tugs at your lips. You know this won't end well. You're playing with fire, and Sanzu is dangerous when pushed. But the part of you that's still reeling from Mikey, still wounded and desperate, craves this chaos. You want to see what will happen when Sanzu finds the katana, want to watch the fury flash across his face. Because for once, you aren't the one falling apart.

Maybe it's madness, or maybe it's something deeper—a need to reclaim some form of control in a world that's stripped you of it. Either way, you aren't running anymore.

You'll face whatever comes next, even if it destroys you.

Manjiro Sano haunts you everywhere. He's with you in the empty bed, a ghost beside you as you stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the dark. When you’re in the kitchen, his voice echoes in your mind, teasing, laughing, pulling you into memories that make your chest tighten with an ache that hasn't dulled. In the mirror, you see him staring back, his familiar, cold gaze mocking you as you brush your teeth, as if daring you to forget the life you shared with him.

It's been weeks since the breakup, but the weight of nine years doesn't just vanish. You were naive to think it would be easy to let go. After all, you didn't just lose Mikey—you lost the future you had envisioned, the dream of always being by his side, no matter what.

You'd never loved anyone else, never felt the safety of another person's arms. You never had a reason to think you'd need to. And when you first learned about the arranged marriage three years ago, you foolishly believed that nothing could ever come between you and Mikey, that love would always win. However, reality had other plans.

Eventually, it all became too much. So, you made a decision. You packed your things and left the apartment you had once shared with him, that place filled with memories—of laughter, of love, of a time when he was truly yours. But now, those memories felt like weights pulling you under, drowning you in a past that you could no longer live in.

So, you found a new place, a smaller apartment far away from that suffocating ghost. You didn't tell anyone from Bonten. Not a soul knew where you were now. It was supposed to be your clean break.

But fate never lets you escape that easily.

Weeks after you've settled into your new life, you find yourself out for a casual walk, basking in the simplicity of a quiet day. An ice cream cone in one hand, a plastic bag of snacks in the other—small, ordinary comforts in an otherwise chaotic life. You're beginning to breathe again, to feel the freedom of being on your own. And then you see him.

Mikey.

He's sitting outside a café, his silver hair catching the sunlight, his posture as calm and unreadable as ever. But next to him is her. His wife. The sight of them together makes your stomach lurch, your heart clenching as if gripped by an iron fist. She's laughing, and though Mikey's face is still as cold and impassive as always, there's something different about him. Softer. He looks at her in a way that sends a sharp pang through your chest.

He's moving on.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like it's tilting on its axis. You need to get out of here. Now.

Before you can make your escape, though, you spot them. Ran's lazy, amused expression is the first thing you notice, his sharp eyes locking onto you with that all-too-familiar smirk.

"Well, well. Look who it is," he drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. But it's the presence next to him that makes your blood run cold.

Sanzu.

The moment his gaze lands on you, the air around you thickens. His eyes narrow, his lips curl into a sneer, and you know. He knows. You can almost feel the anger rolling off of him, simmering beneath the surface. You've crossed a line with him, and now, you'll pay for it.

Your heart hammers in your chest, panic seizing your throat. The plastic bag slips from your hand, the ice cream falling, forgotten, as it splatters against the pavement. You don't even care. All that matters now is getting away.

You turn and run.

"Oi!" Sanzu's voice slices through the air, sharp and dangerous. "Stop running!"

Like hell you will.

You know what he's capable of, and you know there's nothing holding him back now—not Mikey, not anyone. Not after what you did. The memory flashes in your mind—the clattering of metal, the weight of his katana in your hands as you threw it into the trash. The reckless satisfaction of it all.

You can hear his footsteps behind you, the sound growing louder with each passing second. He's faster than you remember, and your chest tightens in fear. Sanzu is dangerous even when he's calm, but this?

This is personal.

The crowded street is a blur as you dash through it, weaving past confused onlookers, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. Dignity is the last thing on your mind right now—you're running for survival. And yet, amidst the chaos, a ridiculous thought crosses your mind: If I die today, I'll die looking like shit. No makeup, no cute clothes, just sweat and terror.

You can feel him gaining on you, the heat of his rage practically burning at your back, and desperation grips you. You need to think fast, or you won't make it. That's when you spot the riverbank up ahead, the water glistening in the distance.

Without a second thought, you sprint toward it, your feet barely touching the ground as you throw yourself into the icy water. The shock of the cold steals your breath, but you don't stop moving. You swim, forcing your body through the water, the chill biting into your skin.

When you finally break the surface, you gasp, a fleeting moment of triumph swelling in your chest. You've escaped.

Or so you think.

Your heart sinks when you see him standing on the riverbank, his figure dark and ominous against the bright sky. Sanzu is already peeling off his blazer, his eyes fixed on you with a predator's focus. There's no hesitation as he tosses it aside and kicks off his shoes. Of course, he's going to follow you. Of course, he's not letting this go.

You should have known better.

Sanzu dives into the water without a second thought, cutting through the current with frightening speed. And that's when it hits you—he isn't just chasing you out of anger. He's chasing you because you've crossed a line you can never uncross. Because Sanzu doesn't follow any rules, doesn't have any boundaries.

And neither of you are sane enough to stop now.

< part two ends >

author's notes. heyy beloved sanzu kinnies <3 i'm so so happy & grateful for all the love you showed to part one of BNT that i decided to bless you guys with twice as long part two hehe :D hope you guys enjoyed it! i've got some fun stuff planned for sanzu and y/n in the next part... so please stay tuned! also, i'd love to hear your thoughts so do leave some notes & comments!! tysm for reading guys! stay awesome ☆(>ᴗ•)

taglist. @iluv-ace @reiners-milkbiddies @bontenbabyy @risheliette @loveantonnlee @sukunas-bitxh @honeygonebads-blog @r3yk @soilaluna @l1ttl3m1ss666 @novv @slvdsjjk @miffysoo @qyoongi @drakensdarling @ask-the-insect-hashira @awkwardaardvarkforever @thebiggestlovergirlever @shinichirolover @kyyuuuuu @meowww1041 @kiasnotforever (comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

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kakuchosearring · 10 months ago

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i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings, uhuh! // manjiro sano headcanons.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ final timeleap/final timeline!mikey as your boyfriend headcanons ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

━━━ ( ⋆｡°✩ this ofc contains spoilers of the ending! ✩°｡ ⋆ ) ━━━

✧ let's face it, mikey has a whole different outlook on life now. because of this, he's determined to make everything right, and he starts with the person he's been crushing on for years. he's spent so long trying to keep you away from him because he's been so scared of his dark impulses & what he could become that now he can't even wait. one of the first things he's doing is convincing takemichi to come with him to your house to introduce himself (and shoot his lil kid shot) so he can weed his way into your life quicker. you're stuck with him whether you like it or not.

✧ you asking him who tf he is and why he's banging on your little eight year old self's door at 5 pm on a tuesday definitely humbles him but mikey's just so happy to see your face that it's all worth it.

✧ his eight year old self 100% proposes the idea of 'getting married and being together for ever and ever'. you obviously go along with this idea and you two have silly talks of emma being at your wedding and all your lil barbies and shit will be there too. it's all innocent and so sweet and mikey cannot believe he took all of this for granted the first time.

✧ once you two are considerably older and actually a couple this time around, mikey is HUGE on touch. like, mikey's constantly wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind, grabbing your hands, etc. he's gotta hold you constantly b/c it's a nice reminder to him that you're real and you're HIS, finally.

✧ actually, as a matter of fact, i would bet my life on saying he never even technically made it official. you two started hanging out romantically and one day he just referred to himself as your boyfriend and you went along with it. you're the person he wants to be with for the rest of his life and he's gonna make damn well sure this happens.

✧ because of everything he's gone through and how scared he is to lose you (even if you don't quite understand it) he's super protective. he's giving every single person who even has the audacity to look at you the nastiest glares he can muster up. if someone's flirting with you, he'll walk up to you, wrap his arm around your shoulder, kiss your cheek and play super dumb. 'whatcha talkin' about?' cute puppy head tilt and all. this, somehow, scares people off more than his nasty glares.

✧ mikey can't stop talking about you to other people. like, i'm sorry to say, but draken is definitely sick of hearing your name because you come up every other sentence. takemichi hears about how beautiful you are and how you and mikey are gonna go to the park later or shopping or whatever -- and, of course, this honestly makes takemichi happier than anyone, because in this timeline, everyone has finally gotten the happy ending they deserve. you and mikey are no different.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ wanna request smth? feel free, my ask box is open !! ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo revengers fanfic #tokyo revengers imagines #tokrev fanfic #tokrev imagines #manjiro sano #mikey sano #mikey sano x reader #manjiro sano x reader #mikey sano fluff #mikey sano imagines

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the-rebellious-gege · 3 months ago

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I just wanted to share these lovely commissions for my angels & demons fic. They’re done by xoidiy over on Instagram. Seeing them come to life is so exciting!

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laceymorganwrites · 7 months ago

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Pegging Tokyo Revengers men - part 1

A/N: Tell me which characters to do next^^

Fem!Reader

Taiju:

suggests it but is embarrassed

listen, his friends had to convince him to finally ask you

he´s been curious about anaorgasms for so long now but was scared of being judged for a long time

his friends are super open about their own lives in the bedroom and ever since then he wanted to try it too

super relieved when you agree to it

baby boy really thought you were gonna call him weird for his desires

he´s really nervous about it once you´re actually getting the stuff ready

does too much research beforehand and just looks at it from a completely theoretical standpoint which makes him even more anxious

you pick him up from work and immediately get to the bedroom, slowly undressing him, feeling him up, making him feel so wanted

he´s relieved when you calm him down like this, getting him to focus only on you

he´s so sensitive from just foreplay alone but you take your time with it, making sure he´s ready

the dildo you prepared isn´t as big as his own cock, just the right size to start with, you let him lube it up himself for some control

you sit on the edge of bed, right in front of the mirror he loves to use so much, it´s fun to switch roles, now you´re the one showing him how hot he looks

you help him in taking it all in nice and slow, him sitting on top of you, legs spread and your hand on his stomach possessively, cradling him like a good boy

he´s so overwhelmed by the whole situation and all these new feelings, he didn´t know he could feel any more pleasure with you but you always knew how to surprise him

he grips onto the sheets as you hold his head, making him look at all the cute expressions he makes, fucking up into him slowly but deeply, making him actually moan for once

when he´s close you let him touch yourself, your own hand over his, getting him to finish together

such a baby at aftercare, he´s usually not that cuddly or needy but you´re not complaining

you´ve never seen him so blissfully fucked out, it´s adorable really

Mucho:

already has multiple toys prepared

this is nothing new for you two

you two have been dating since you were teenagers so you know each other in and out, you´ve done about everything in the book

you went through every awkward phase together, you know each other better than anyone else in the world, probably because you´ve seen each other at your worst and best, have been there for each other for every step of the way, for every mistake, for every success

for every awkward sexual encounter because things didn´t work out as you thought or just simply weren´t it for you two

it started out that way with pegging as well

you tried it relatively early in your relationship when you were still horny teenagers who didn´t do much else but fuck

needless to say you didn´t do any research, just watched some porn together and tried it immediately after it

you were too hasty with it and he was too impatient, in the end it ended up hurting more and you just stopped there and didn´t try it again for a few years after that

it´s his birthday when you decide to surprise him with it, you know that he still wants to try it but both of you were too embarrassed and honestly too stubborn to actually bring it up

you most of all because you pride just got in the way, you were so young back then and thought you knew everything

now that you were older and more mature you could finally use your pride for good things, researching on your own and buying a bunch of toys, maybe a few too many for the start but you had a hunch you´d need them eventually

Mucho loves being spoiled on his birthday so he´s already looking forward to it, expecting a rougher session, the ones he likes the most, where you completely wreck him

but he didn´t expect it to start out so slow, he liked the presents you got him but said he wanted to wait a bit before trying out the bigger things

but he did agree to letting you finger him, a great success for you

you have him on his fours, his favorite position after he found out just how much he enjoyed getting spanked

you start circling his hole, gently probing it and preparing him gently

once he´s loosened up a bit you start using a finger vibrator you´ve bought him

it´s been a while since you´ve seen him so relaxed, your sex life never is boring but sometimes you can get a bit self conscious so you´re happy he likes it

you´re edging him, making him whine for you, grinding against the sheets but you don´t let him cum, not until he´s crying from overstimulation

needless to say you two are too impatient to stop there and end up using all of the toys you bought, Mucho can´t move the next day but it´s worth it because he never felt that good

South:

brat

he is obnoxious and so so overconfident, it´s just annoying

your relationship is weird enough as it is, you don´t even remember when and how it started

South and you kind of always were in each other´s lives, and he was always annoying you

he´s always had a crush on you and those feelings didn´t change over time, the second he saw you he asked you out

after rejection after rejection he bothered you so much that you said yes to one date

said date was awful, he took you to a restaurant that was too fancy to enjoy and didn´t know what else to do after that so he just called you a taxi and called it a night

he thinks his reputation, looks and strength will get him anywhere because that´s how it´s always been

that´s why it irritates him so much that you don´t like him

one day he just shows up at your door and asks you to tell him your life story, saying he can´t get you out of his head, that he realized he genuinely wants to know you

you spend the whole night talking and watching stupid movies he enjoys (70s martial arts movies from all countries)

that´s when you finally figure him out, yeah he´s an adrenaline junkie but he´s also just a big puppy who gets excited over everything, it´s kind of cute

you start casually dating after that, it´s more like deepening your friendship but with making out

sex doesn´t come until way later but you don´t mind

South has opened up to you about his issues with his confidence, performance anxiety and most of all he trusted you enough to tell you about his biggest insecurity, his small dick (will do a seperate hc post for that)

you´re the first person he ever trusted on such a level, on a level where he could be intimate without feeling and thinking too much, without the fear and the shame

because he´s not the most sexually active person out there it´s very awkward at first, he´s just not good at sex but his pride won´t let himself admit that

you´re the first woman that doesn´t laugh at him and that doesn´t leave halfway through

you´re so patient with him even though he´s so stubborn

you always guide him when having sex and even though he hates the aspect of losing control he´s okay with it after realizing what sort of expressions and sounds he could make you make if he does exactly what you tell him to

in a way you´re at fault for making him even more confident

you don´t mind at first but it gets obnoxious when he starts boasting about his skills when you haven´t even done that much yet

the worst thing is that he can´t eat pussy to save his life, it´s infuriating you

one day you just have enough and tell him you could do a better job eating him out than he you

he just laughs at you because he doesn´t believe that he´ll even feel anything, he never thought about trying anything anal related, thinking it´ll just hurt

but he does let you try, just because he thinks you´ll fail anyway and that way he won´t have to eat you out anymore (he thinks it´s a drag because his tongue gets tired and you don´t give him any reactions so he knows he´s not doing a good job and that kind of crushes him but yeah he doesn´t talk about that because that would mean admitting he´s not the perfect specimen)

he´s so squirmish and embarrassed when he´s laying down and you´re between his legs, he tries to cross them the whole time but you pull them apart and keep them in place over your shoulders

you keep eye contact the whole time you´re kissing along his inner thighs, gently nibbing and licking, praying he´s taking mental notes

he hates to admit it but South loves seeing that intense stare of yours

blushes so hard when he feels your tongue, tries to cover his face and after considering it you let him because you know how hard this is for him already

he closes his eyes and just focuses on your tongue, on what you´re doing, how you´re moving and he fucking whines

he had no idea something so simple could be so enjoyable, no wonder you crave it so much

from now on he wants to try his best to be a better lover for you

definitely more submissive now, not as much of a slut as Mucho but he does have his moods

loves preparing himself for you, he has a big collection of plugs now, gets off on you using a strap bigger than his cock

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pervcoded · 7 months ago

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one flew over starring mitsuya takashi

content warning(s) domineering and controlling behavior. inappropriate behavior towards strangers/non-consensual touching. sexual discussions. mentions of human trafficking. stalking (minor). mitsuya is a bird hybrid. gn!reader

He notices you at the mall.

Harpy's eyes see all, and you’re too busy looking nervous, showing your less interesting friends how cute your ass looks, that you don't perceive him at all.

Ones who are as doe-eyed, pathetic, and as precious as you.

Mitsuya reckons it's jealousy. It’s not like humans are all bad.

He can concede that your people are weaker than him - hell, he could probably tear your pillowy flesh to ribbons with a flex of his talons, flap a wing and send you colliding to the ground with the force of the gale, but you humans have your own uses, individual purposes.

He's worked with humans as a fashion designer. Mostly assistants; coffee picker-uppers and donut deliverers and chauffeurs. Models of your kind aren't common.

But it's not impossible- sometimes a flower blooms from the concrete, and he's seen beautiful humans before. He's seen them naked, clothed, bouncing on his cock, but none of them were worth stopping and staring at.

None of them were worth more than a polite nod or a 'Thank you, sweetheart,' - perhaps a 'good pet' if they squeeze down on him just right.

The thought of them didn't roost, slinking out of the grooves of his mind. He normally wouldn't be caught dead yearning for some human.

Good thing nobody's minding him now, then.

After seeing you, the thought of keeping you feels a little more romantic. Pleasant to the ear. A gift to the self - wholly indulgent in every sense of the world because

You, against the backdrop of the world, are a sky full of shimmering gold - the muse that’s eluded him all his natural life. Remarkable figure, this natural charm about your aura. You're demure, sweet even, fussing about your friend's outfits even if you've tragically outshined them.

You have star potential. He can imagine you in his latest sets, a permanent fixture in his private studio - even outfitted with your own little stage.

He quickly makes up his mind about it, and steps into your bubble. He’s as quiet as a wink ‘cause you don’t notice him until you mind his shadow eclipsing you, stepping back in abject horror as you turn to behold him. Terrifyingly beautiful.

Buying humans is usually easy - when they have handlers.

You’re stood; stuck and stupid and gaping and gawking and he thinks it's something he should charge your owner more for, before he notices the lack of identification tag on you. Your friends fade into background and shadow as he makes you do a few turns.

You’re clumsy! Adorable, but inexperienced. Can’t even look at him without sweating - pupils dilating, desperate for something to land on that isn’t his face. He cups your chin as delicately; a collector examining fine china. Feathers cling to his elbows and arms; frame an alien face.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, human?” He chats too casually. Your lips quiver in place, his eyes narrowing derisively. “Speak when you’re spoken to, yeah? It’ll be good for you to learn to respect your betters.” He touches the top of your head, extremely comfortable for a man you’ve met less than a minute ago.

Forgive you for being a little stunned, you suppose. “O-okay,” The way he smiles down at you makes you feel even more uncertain. You’re a quick learner, that’s great. He straightens up, applies light pressure to your head. “And?”

You nearly draw your eyes down in confusion but try to remain neutral faced as you ponder what he could possibly want. The pressure grows as you take your time, your legs trembling ever so slightly under the weight of his claw. You’re teary by the time you’re pushing out a petrified, “...thank you?” and he laughs genuinely, bending down to your height. It dawns on you in this very moment how tall he is. His smile twists his face, would look more at home on a cat.

“Are you asking me? Or ya telling me?”

“T-telling, sir.” He coos affectionately at the honorific, talons skimming along the fat of your cheek. Something damp trickles down your face.

“Good.”

He’ll work on fixing your stutter later.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀TOKREV/BANNER ART by @/KenWakui

all content written by me @ciematis, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

#tokyo revengers #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyo rev #tokrev #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya takashi x you #hybrid #bird!hybrid #tokyo revengers imagines #tr fanfic #tokrev fanfic #mitsuya imagines #mitsuya x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #₀₅⭑ lightning strikes

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 10 months ago

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A/N ::: Love is in the air! (If you're into that kind of stuff!) I just wanted to write a little thing about Draken being cute and kinda shy.

C/W ::: None, just fluff and shoes on a made bed (hey, that shit stresses me out fr!).

"I don't know what to tell you. You're the one who came here." Draken was clearly getting annoyed with your abundance of energy today. But you were bored. And for some reason, you were holding him completely responsible for entertaining you.

"Yeah, I know I came to you. But you also invited me over. I believe your exact words were 'If you're bored, you can come over'. I was. I am. And now ... you're going to make me ... not bored. Ok?" You plopped down next to him on his bed and stretched out.

"Get … your shoes off of my bed, please." He said. Draken was clean. Almost to a fault. But you couldn't imagine being bored with anyone else. Mikey was always doing stuff. Takemichi was always talking about his feelings. It was nice to be with Draken. He was quiet usually. Unless he just had something he had to say. But more often than not he was the one you liked to hang out with.

"Make me." You drag your feet up onto his bed, making the soles of your shoes wrinkle up the covers.

"S- goddamn it. Knock that ... off ... stop it! You aware of what you walk in everyday? There's some really disgusting shit out there, y/n!" He sat up and tried to push your legs off so they would hang over the edge, but you'd planted your heels in deep and they weren't going to budge. "I swear to fucking god, y/n. I'm gonna - HA!"

"Missed me, missed me! Now ya gotta ki-" you stopped chanting the stupid kids rhyme when he rolled over and ended up hovering over your body, face to face with you. The tension in the air grew like a bomb detonating in a small room. You stopped squirming under him and your smile faded when you realized how serious he'd gotten. "Now you ... gotta kiss me."

His jaw clenched a couple of times and his attention fluttered back and forth between your eyes and your parted lips. He adjusted himself so his arms were on either side of your head and he just stared at you. For the longest time. It was like you were seeing each other for the first time in a new light.

Friends, sure. But now there was a new element to this compound. And you wanted so badly for him to mix everything up within you, that you repeated yourself.

"Draken, n-now you gotta ... you gotta kiss ... me."

"Oh." He said quietly and closed his eyes, dipping down and pressing his lips against yours.

#draken #draken fluff #tokrev fluff #draken tokrev #draken tokyo revengers #draken tokyo rev #tokrev fanfic #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers draken #tokrev #tokrev draken #fluff #draken x you #draken x y/n #draken x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tokrev x y/n

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ladybyakuya · 2 years ago

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→ [ HEADCANONS ]

→ [ ONESHOTS, DRABBLES, FICS ]

MANJIRO SANO —

fated encounter

can't pretend

past beckons

| begrudging beloved

| maybe, maybe not

a little mistake

the burnt letter

the girl in red

you're lovely even in your madness

taking care of your beloved

little miss sano

better luck next time

say it back

8:01

magnetic moonlight

detour

stay with me.

SANO SHINICHIRO

cause i want you to like me

WAKASA IMAUSHI

midnight love

taking care of your beloved

5O5

painted with guilt

cause i want you to like me

like a moth to the flame

i kissed a stranger in a white dress.

my mother's eyes.

CHIFUYU MATSUNO

grayscale life

we're cooler than that

KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

grayscale life

why do we lie to each other

his halo

BAJI KEISUKE

my feral princess

MITSUYA TAKASHI

settle down with me

home sickness

rock n' roll

KEN RYUGUJI

settle down with me

happier than ever

moment of spar

RAN HAITANI

lavender gaze

i was 19 in a white dress

home sickness

RINDOU HAITANI

vulnerable vows

SANZU HARUCHIYO

a little death

taking care of your beloved

the girl in red

unexpected meet

KAKUCHO HITTO

rose bath.

3:01

TAKEOMI AKASHI

city in rain

lucky encounter

dilf!takeomi

IZANA KUROKAWA

a fool's paradise

the burnt letter

light of my life, fire of my loins

outrageous love

love like fools

KOKONOI HAJIME

random encounter

me and my husband

something about you

1:08

just for me

euphoria

8:01

taste of victory

behind my eyes

INUI SEISHU

detonating desires

love me, love me not

like a hurricane

sell your soul

morning dew

nocturnal melody

HANMA SHUJI

that's so peachy

wild games

mind games

adore you

NAOTO TACHIBANA

cresent impulse

TAKEMICHI HANAGAKI

city in rain

SHION MADARAME

be my harley quinn

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cryptidwren · 7 months ago

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i absolutely completely forgot to post this on here because i didn't know how to promo my fics on here but!! i made a hantora fic last month. read here!

#fanfic #tokrev fanfic #wren writes #kazutora hanemiya #hanma shuji #tokyo revengers #tokrev #hantora #hanma/kazutora

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4kominato · 1 year ago

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Part II: Let Me Love You

[[ Part I ]]

A/N: hi friends! im back with a little surprise hehe 😬 i really wanted to do a continuation of this one since yknowww kazutora is my fav and im a hopeless romantic... i just couldnt leave it as a one night stand 🤧

@yukihime-mikeys-girl if youre still around!! 🫰🏻

Pairing: Hanemiya Kazutora x F!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff(ish towards the end), Smut - SEXUAL CONTENT

[[ WARNING ]] contains Tokyo Revengers season 1 spoilers

Word Count: 4.3k

The bell on the front door jingled as you pulled it open, allowing yourself into the familiar pet shop run by none other than your bestie, Chifuyu, who rudely failed to greet you upon your entry.

“Not gonna say ‘hi’ or anything?” you snapped as you walked up to the register where Chifuyu was tidying up and preparing to close the shop.

“Hi,” he responded sarcastically to your snarky comment, not even glancing up at you as he continued on with what he was doing.

“Brat,” you jeered before moving on, “Where’s Tora?”

“Beats me.”

“Damn, are you salty today or what?” you remarked with a scoff. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… so annoying. Why is it him? He didn’t do anything special, but the girls are always swooning over him… What about me?” he pouted with a slight tinge of pink tinting his cheeks and tips of his ears.

“What girls are you even talking about? Me?”

“And literally all the cute female customers…”

“Aw, Chifuyu. You’re cute too, just a bit soft is all,” you teased, poking his cheek to which he smacked your hand away. “It’s not like I’m dating Kazutora anyways. You don’t need to make a big deal out of it.”

“Yeah, but… at least he’s getting some…”

“Hm, but you’ve always struck me as a more of a relationship kind of guy. If you really want, I’m sure I can find a friend who’d be down to hook up with you.”

“That’s cheating if you set me up...”

“Fine. Have it your way. But seriously, where’s Tora? My dick appointment is late.”

“Ugh,” Chifuyu huffed with a disgruntled groan before making his way to the back of the shop where the staff room was. “Kazutora, your fuck buddy is here!” he yelled almost too loudly considering the shop was still open… At least there weren’t any customers.

“Geez! Why are you yelling something like that?!” Kazutora replied, obviously flustered when the two of them emerged from the back.

“You should be grateful you have a fuck buddy y’know,” Chifuyu snapped back.

“I never said I wasn’t?” He shook his head in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked up to you, “What’s up with him today?”

“I think he’s on his man-period. While you were in the back, he was bitching to me about not getting any. Maybe we should invite him for a threesome next time,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, no…” Kazutora grimaced at the idea and quickly urged you out of the shop. “Kay bye, Chifuyu! See you tomorrow,” he waved as the two of you walked briskly to your car and hopped in. “I think… he might be jealous of me actually. He was talking to me earlier about how he’s had a crush on you ever since he met you. Did you know?”

“Yeah,” you answered without further elaboration, focusing rather on starting the car and heading over to Kazutora’s apartment.

“And…?” he prodded, unsatisfied with your answer.

“And… he’s not my type…” you admitted with a shrug. “That’s why we’re just friends.”

“Oh…” was all he managed to say, leaving the rest of the car ride silent. He didn’t really know what he was expecting you to say, but he expected a little more than that. It made him think more about how you’d approached him at the New Year’s party a few months before. You were pretty aggressive in your advances with him so does that mean… he’s your type?

Once you’d parked the car, the silence continued as the two of you made your way up to Kazutora’s unit, though, the lack of conversation didn't really bother you since your only goal at the moment was getting some dick. The moment Kazutora opened the door, you wasted no time swiftly guiding him over to the couch where you straddled his lap. Your arms encircled his neck, and without hesitation, you crashed your lips against his, smoothly sliding your tongue into his mouth. Although he was reciprocating physically with his hands running up and down your thighs, and his lips and tongue moving in sync with yours, mentally, you sensed he wasn’t fully into it given his efforts were ever so subtly lacking compared to your usual sessions.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” you asked worriedly as you sharply pulled away from him.

“U-uh… Yeah, I’m fine,” Kazutora replied nervously, cupping your cheek in his hand and trying to pull you back into a kiss, but you resisted.

“Don’t lie… I can tell you’re not fully into it and you've been all weird since the car ride.”

He let out a defeated sigh, knowing he’d been found out and there’s no way you’d be letting him off the hook now, so reluctantly, he answered.

“It’s just… you mentioned earlier that Chifuyu isn’t your type… but you seemed so determined to talk to me at the party. So I was just thinking…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence out of embarrassment.

“That you’re my type?” you suggested.

“Uh… well…” he chuckled nervously, a tinge of pink tinting his cheeks and ears as his eyes fell to the floor. “Yeah…”

“Well, duh,” you scoffed, “I thought that was the first thing I expressed to you that night at the party.”

“Yeah, but… why? I just can’t understand…” he vented quietly, “Chifuyu is so much better than me… And if not him, there are so many other cool guys in Toman too, so… why me?”

“Well, if you’re going down that road…” you started, pausing for a moment before elaborating. “There is someone else in Toman I used to like. We met in high school and we used to hang out all the time. I’d always help him study, and then we’d go get taiyaki after… and sometimes if I was lucky, he’d take me for night rides on his bike…”

“Mikey…” Kazutora muttered under his breath, remembering how you’d told him Mikey was your high school classmate when you had introduced yourself.

“Yep,” you answered with a half hearted smile, “He introduced me to some of the Toman guys, mostly the captains and vice captains. That’s how I got to be friends with Chifuyu.”

“So what happened with Mikey?” he inquired further.

“He rejected me,” you answered bluntly. “That was hm… I don’t know, maybe a little less than a year before that party. It took a few months or so for me to get back on my feet because that rejection really hurt. And then after that, I went through a ‘hoe phase…’ I did actually consider sleeping with Chifuyu during that time but… I'd figured out he had feelings for me so, y'know, didn’t wanna lead him on and hurt the poor guy. It wasn’t until a month-ish before the party that I fully recovered from the heartbreak… and then I met you.”

“But we’re only hooking up… if you’re looking for something serious then why not go for Chifuyu? You said you’re over Mikey now, aren't you?”

“I get where you’re going with this, but I really don’t think I’m meant to be with Chifuyu,” you insisted, brows furrowing in frustration. “Call me dumb if you want. I don’t give a shit, but to me, it feels like fate brought us together, whether we're exclusive or not. I just don’t think it was a crazy coincidence that you walked into my life the very moment I was ready to move on.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I think you’re gravely mistaken,” Kazutora scoffed almost passive aggressively, “Are you forgetting I rejected your relationship proposal? We won��t be anything more than fuck buddies if I don’t allow it. I’m telling you now, if a relationship is what you’re looking for, then Chifuyu’s your guy, not me. Trust me, he’s better for you.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that? You can’t decide who’s better or worse for me. I’ll decide that for myself!”

“Kinda hard for you to judge that when you don’t even know shit about me,” he sassed, making your blood boil.

“Then why don’t you tell me more about yourself, dammit!” you lashed out now on the verge of tears as you furiously clenched the collar of his shirt, “I want to know more about you, but you won’t tell me a damn thing! How the hell would you know how I’ll feel when you tell me everything? You’re just making assumptions and putting your own words in my fucking mouth!”

“You don’t get it because you don’t know!” he snapped back, “Anyone in their right state of mind would hate me if they knew.”

“Well maybe I’m fucking insane then! No matter what excuses you come up with, you still can’t decide for me how I feel about you! After all this time, I–I’ve grown to love you so much, Kazutora, you don’t even understand…” Your voice trailed off into a fit of sobs as you finally released his shirt, your arms falling limp while your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

As much as he wanted to comfort you, he couldn’t. Not knowing he was hiding such a dark secret from you. How could he bear to touch and hold someone as precious as you in his filthy, bloodied hands? He wanted to be selfish and keep you for himself while running away from the shadow that loomed over him. He thought that maybe if he just kept running with his eyes closed and never looked back, then it’d go away… maybe. But at the same time, another part of him knew it was never going away and his ignorance of the subject was unfair to you and would only hurt you in the end; if anyone deserved to know, it was you, whether he liked the outcome or not.

“Thank you… for loving me, but falling for me was a huge mistake…” he replied dully, his aura becoming suddenly cold and lifeless. “The person who killed Baji and Shinichiro… was me.”

Amidst your little sobs and sniffles, you couldn’t help but gasp in shock at what you’d just heard. It resurfaced a memory of a conversation you’d had with Mikey way back when, during one of your night bike rides with him:

“Y’know the guy I mentioned who killed Shinichiro? The same guy killed Baji too. I’ve forgiven him in my head, but in my heart… it’s still hard for me to accept. It’s not like forgiveness can bring either of them back, y’know?”

It was Kazutora, you thought to yourself as you sat still, cries finally ceasing though tears continued to fall. There was no ill intent in your reaction, but for Kazutora, the silence was so piercing that he just couldn’t bare it.

“See, I told you,” he retorted, carefully untangling himself from you in preparation for his escape. “No one would love a murderer. Just leave.”

The moment he stood up from the couch and started storming off to his bedroom, your body moved on its own, shooting up in an instant to chase after him, and thankfully you caught him in the doorway just before he could lock himself in.

“Why?” you whined, tears streaming down your face once more as you held tightly onto his waist, your head pressed firmly against his back. “Why do you keep making your own assumptions?” You waited for an answer, but there was nothing. He only stood there slumped in defeat, so you continued on with your monologue, “I get that it’s hard to tell people about something like that. I get that it’s hard to live with a burden that heavy. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked, but that doesn’t do anything to change how I already feel about you. Yes, maybe you did something horrible in the past, but people aren’t stagnant. People can change over time, and the Kazutora I fell for in the present isn't the same Kazutora from the past. The Kazutora I fell for is caring and loving and fun to be around and I can’t imagine a life without him. Please don’t let your past hold you down and stop you from living the life you want to live…”

“But…” he started, voice cracking as his breath hitched in his throat, “I-I don’t even deserve to live… why should I live how I want?” Holding a hand up to his face he began to sob, his unsteady figure slipping through your arms as he sank to the floor. “I stole not one, but two innocent lives… I… should be dead…”

Kneeling down next to him, you hugged him from the side, even tighter than you had earlier and spoke softly against his neck, “I’m not saying you can’t feel guilty or to forget what happened, but even if you do feel that way, you still have to move forward. If you keep sitting around sulking and dwelling on something you can’t change, then you’ll just be in the same spot forever. Everything in life has a lesson to be learned and even in the worst situations, you have to find what that is so that you can grow and improve in the future. You can’t keep hating and reprimanding yourself forever. I think you’ve already taken a lot of time feeling sorry; now it’s time for you to start doing something about it.”

Though he’d heard every word you said, he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge you in his overly emotional state. Gently, you tucked some of the blond strands that hung over his face behind his ear, revealing his glossy, reddened eyes and a steady stream of tears rolling down his pale cheeks. Leaning in, you placed a chaste peck to his lips, then pressed your forehead against his. “I know you’ve been struggling to love and accept yourself and it’s understandable given your situation. But since you can’t right now, then please let me. More than anything, I want to embark on this journey with you and help you as much as I can, every step of the way.”

Still, you received no verbal acknowledgement, but rather he responded through actions, breaking out of your embrace so that he could hold you in his arms instead. He held you so tightly it felt like he was afraid you’d slip away if he loosened his grip even a tiniest bit; it was the most affectionate gesture he’d ever expressed toward you in the past few months since you’d been hooking up and it really just made your heart melt.

“Thank you,” he finally muttered against your neck once his breaths steadied to occasional little sniffles after recovering from his emotional breakdown, “Thank you for always being there for me.”

“You don't need to thank me,” you nearly whispered whilst shaking your head at him. Cupping his face in your hands once more, you wiped the remnants of his tears with your thumbs before continuing, “Just make me yours, please.”

Slowly leaning in, you sealed your words with a kiss, hoping to relay to him just how strongly you felt about him… in more ways than one. Butterflies filled your stomach when you felt him reciprocate, and as his movements synchronized with yours, your hands glided gracefully from his cheeks down the sides of his neck to rest on his shoulders to pave a path for your lips to follow. They drifted first to the side of his mouth, then slowly they trailed along his cheek to his jaw, then along the length of his neck. The soft hums elicited in the process were confirmation enough that he wanted this just as much as you did and you could proceed further, so your fingers found the buttons of his dress shirt and made quick work of them to finally expose his toned abdomen.

“So… we doing it on the floor, or?” Kazutora questioned half joking as you slid the garment off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.

“Mm, that’s kinky,” you teased in response, “If you want to then I don’t mind.”

Instead, he guided your legs around his waist, supporting beneath your thighs before standing up from the ground and carrying you over to his bed, carefully laying you down atop his fluffy comforter. “You’ll be more comfortable on my bed. The floor is too hard,” he stated firmly with no sign of uncertainty at all in his tone.

“Wow, such a gentleman—” you barely finished complimenting when he captured your lips once more and hastily began to undress you. You could see the lust growing in his eyes with each garment he discarded, and soon enough, he had you stripped down to just your panties. He bit his lip as hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled the drenched, skimpy material down your hips, then thighs, leaving behind glistening threads of your arousal along your inner thighs in the process before he finally slid them clean off your ankles and chucked them to the floor.

“Goddamn…” he gawked at how wet you were for him, the sight sending a surge of blood rushing downward. He was so mesmerized that he couldn’t resist swatching a sample with his middle finger to grant himself a little taste prior to the full course.

“I’ve been sooo pent up, baby,” you whined in a baby voice as to rationalize why you were so turned on; this was the first time he’d ever seen you horny to such an extreme extent. “That’s why I was complaining to Chifuyu about my dick appointment being late.”

“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting,” he barely made out before delving down between your legs, his soft lips encircling your swollen, touch-starved clit whilst he slid two of his slim digits into your warmth.

“Mm, Tora. It feels so good,” you moaned, knowing well that he loved being acknowledged and praised during his performances.

After months of helping him and teaching him just how you liked things, you could confirm via the spine tingling stimulation of your g-spot on top of the perfect combination of sucking, tongue flicking and swirling against your clit that he’d mastered the art of going down on you. It was almost disappointing how quickly he had your toes curling and back arching, already on the verge of release; you hated for this bliss to end so soon. Ultimately however, you succumbed, your fingers finding Kazutora’s smoothly pulled back hair and unintentionally disheveling it with the height of your high inflicting an unbearable pleasure that initiated from your core and coursed through your entire body.

He licked his lips as he sat up from his position between your legs, simultaneously ripping off his hair tie and letting his luscious blond and black locks fall over his shoulders before proceeding to undo his pants. You observed him intently as the outline of his erection came into view through his thin, dark briefs, and despite having come literally just minutes ago, the void between your legs was aching with desire and frankly, Kazutora was taking way too long to undress for your liking.

“Tora…” you grumbled, sitting up and reaching forward to stroke his still confined member, “Why are you going so freakin’ slow?”

Chuckling at your desperation, he patted the top of your head as he answered, “To tease you.” You only pouted at him in response, earning another giggle from him before he tugged at the waistband of his boxers and fina-fucking-ly revealed his beautifully hard cock with precum oozing from the tip. You’d barely even given him a chance to fully strip down when you encompassed his shaft with your hand and started stroking him like there was no tomorrow.

“Jesus!” Kazutora winced at the sudden intense stimulation and grabbed you by the wrist, “You’re gonna rip my dick off.”

“Shut up,” you snapped back playfully, but still you slowed your pace for him not wanting him to come yet anyways. “I’ve been waiting for so long now and you still haven’t fucked me. I poured my heart out to you and confessed my love and I’ve gotten nothing in return,” you recited in a dramatic manner, to which he rolled his eyes at you.

“Don’t act like I didn’t tell you something significant too.”

“Oh, you definitely did, but there’s something even more important I was hoping to hear from you,” you stated expectantly, taking a break from pumping him to instead wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down on top of you. Staring deeply into his glowing yellow orbs, you could see his gears turning, trying to figure out what it was you were expecting of him when something seemed to click.

“I love you, too…?” he answered like a question which forced a laugh out of you.

“Pft, I don’t know. Do you?” you jested.

“I do!” he replied defensively, “I just wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted since I didn’t say it earlier…”

“Say it again like you mean it,” you demanded whilst squishing his cheeks with your palms.

“I wub you!” he enunciated as much as he could with his cheeks being squished, which wasn’t much but it sure was cute.

“I love you, too,” you giggled and pulled him into a quick kiss, your arms retaking their place around his neck. “Now hurry up and fuck me. I’ve been waiting this whole time.”

“Hey now, we’re not fuck buddies anymore,” he disputed as he shifted to position himself to your entrance. “When there’s feelings involved, they call it ‘love-making,’ Right?”

You knew he was being somewhat serious, but somehow, the fact that he’d made such a clear distinction was actually the most adorable thing ever and you had to hold back your urge to laugh at him. “Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry, Tora. Would you please do the honors of making love to me?”

The little smile that tugged at corners of his lips in response absolutely warmed your heart… for only a short-lived moment that was abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his whole length filling you up to the brim.

“Better?” Kazutora asked breathily as he wrapped your legs around his waist and rocked his hips in a slow steady rhythm, observing your reactions to gauge if he was doing a good job.

“Much,” you sighed in relief, having been deprived for what felt like forever. You weren’t really sure why, but he felt a bajillion times better today than he ever did; maybe it was the anticipation, maybe it was because you were a couple now, or maybe it was both, who knows? But what you did know was that as he picked up his pace, the feeling of him hitting glorious depths within your core made you feel like you were ascending into heaven.

“Shit,” Kazutora mumbled under his breath as he started to slow down, “I’m already getting close, I’m sorry. I thought my stamina was getting better, but I guess not.”

“Love making is different than fucking, isn’t it?” you interjected, gently caressing his cheek with the back of your fingers. “Feels so much better, right? It does for me too.” you assured. “Keep going. I won’t last much longer either.”

“Okay,” he agreed and complied immediately, his slowed thrusting becoming erratic in the blink of an eye and in no time at all you could feel your whole lower region tingling, teetering toward the brink of climax.

“Ah, Tora!” you moaned at the feeling of your body slowly falling victim to the inevitable euphoria that awaited you despite your efforts to delay it. You managed to hold out for maybe five more seconds before you were enraptured, the breath-taking sensation making you writhe beneath him while your tender walls pulsated around his girth, enticing him to come undone with you.

In your final moments of ecstasy, he finally followed suit, the throaty groan along with the feeling of his warm essence spilling out deep within your core being indicative of that. You let out a heavy, but satisfied sigh as Kazutora took his last few strokes and withdrew himself, his thick seed slowly seeping out of you while he rushed to grab tissues from his desk to clean you up. He took his time tidying up both you and himself, and also making sure he didn’t miss any spots that may have dripped onto the comforter, but the moment he tossed the last dirty tissue into the trash bin he rejoined you in bed and snuggled up close to you without saying a word.

“Hey, Tora,” you decided to break the silence after he’d made himself comfortable.

“Hm?” he mumbled against you, not moving even an inch to converse properly with you, not that you minded though.

“Y’know Chifuyu is gonna be pissed about this, right?”

“Ugh,” he groaned, pulling you closer to him before continuing, “Let’s not talk about him right now…”

Epilogue

“Hey Chifuyu, guess what?” you blurted out spontaneously as he and Kazutora closed up the shop.

“You’re pregnant,” he answered dryly and carried on with what he was doing without batting an eye.

“The fuck?!” Kazutora responded with wide eyes, bewildered by Chifuyu’s drastic guess.

“Uh… I mean I suppose that’s possible, but no, not what I was gonna say…” you chuckled nervously. “Kazutora and I are d–”

“Congratulations,” Chifuyu interrupted aggressively before you could finish, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing his stuff and booking it to the door. “See you tomorrow, Kazutora.” And with that he was gone, leaving Kazutora to finish the rest of the closing duties.

Kazutora facepalmed with a sigh at how things went down, though he wasn’t at all surprised. “You were definitely too blunt. He’s gonna be so petty to me tomorrow…” he griped as he wrapped up his sweeping and put the broom back in the closet.

“He cut me off so I didn’t even say it technically…” you argued back defensively. “We need to find him a girlfriend…”

“Definitely.”

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #hanemiya kazutora #tokyo revengers kazutora #tokrev kazutora #tokyo revengers fanfic #hanemiya kazutora fanfic #tokrev fanfic #tokyo revengers kazutora fanfic #tokrev kazutora fanfic #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev smut #hanemiya kazutora smut #tokyo revengers kazutora smut #tokrev kazutora smut #kazutora x reader #kuri's writing

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kazutora-kurokawa · 3 months ago

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Boyfriend!Hakkai + Birthday Head

♡ NSFW, fluff, fem reader, flirty!reader, model!Hakkai, slight food play, oral-> male receiving , cum swallowing, praise, pet names ♡

note: lil something for the birthday boy 🥳 (it's also my birthday today so l lowkey deserve birthday head too, but I digress 😔)

note 2: the Hakkai girlies are eating today 🤭 this was also more self indulgent than anything

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

The last thing Hakkai expected when he got home late from his photoshoot was to see you standing at the kitchen counter, body covered by lacy, barely there lingerie as you tried to light slightly burnt out candles on a cake.

"You're home late Kai...Happy birthday pretty boy."

His face flushes slightly as he drops his bag by the door and shuffles over to you.

"Baby you look...wow."

"You like it? It took me forever to find one that I actually liked and thought you would too.."

"Like it? I love it...and you, of course." He stammers out.

"Yeah? You should see me without it on."

You gently slide your finger across the top of the cake, scooping up a dollop of whipped icing. He audibly gulps as you bring your finger to his lips, encouraging him to lick the icing off. His soft lips envelop your digit, sucking the icing off and moaning at the taste.

"Good?"

"Delicious ♡"

"I can think of something else that's delicious~"

His eyes widen as you sink onto your knees and undo his belt.

"A-angel! You don't have to, I mean not that I don't want you to but-"

"Kai relax, I want to... besides, it's your birthday, you deserve it."

He tenses slightly before relaxing, his hand gently gripping your shoulder as your lips wrap around the tip of his cock. His eyes roll back into his head as you look up at him with those soft, loving eyes, and he has to use all his willpower to stop himself from cumming in your mouth then and there.

"F-fuck! Your mouth is so warm baby..feels so fucking good~"

You moan softly around his dick, one hand jerking off what you can't fit in your mouth and the other massaging his heavy balls. The apartment quickly fills with noises of pleasure, his breathy moans and deep grunts becoming louder the faster you suck, your spit dripping down his shaft and making a slimy mess.

"Baby.. I'm so close, please don't stop.."

You quicken your pace and he lets out a series of loud, erotic noises, practically whining your name as he fills your mouth with his thick, creamy load. He bites his lip as he watches you swallow every last drop. His post-orgasm bliss slowly wears off and pats your head before helping you off the floor.

"You're so good to me princess."

He kisses you softly, not caring that your mouth was just filled with his jizz or about how wet and messy with saliva your lips are.

"As I should be, you deserve everything and more.. especially on your birthday."

"Well this was definitely the best birthday I've had in a long time."

"Good, because I'm just getting started ♡"

He grips your hips tightly, pulling you into another kiss.

"Can't wait."

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #hakkai smut #hakkai x reader #he's so subby and cute 💙#happy birthday to Hakkai and me (virgo power honestly)#tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokrev fanfic

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candyeager · 1 month ago

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𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

— sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

PART ONE 4.9k words

masterlist

Manjiro Sano once promised you forever. He'd said it so easily back then, like it was a given, something as natural as breathing. You were fifteen, standing by the riverbank after another reckless night, his blonde hair glowing under the streetlights. He had to tilt his head up to meet your eyes then, his expression so open, so sure.

"It's you and me, always."

Now, nearly ten years later, that memory feels like a lifeline in the middle of a storm. You hold onto it so tightly that your knuckles turn white. It's the only thing keeping you grounded as you stand in the shadowed corner of a chapel, watching him slip a ring onto another woman's finger.

The bride is stunning, of course. Her white gown flows around her like something out of a dream, her face set in a serene mask of duty. And Manjiro—Mikey—he looks... distant. Like he's not even there, going through the motions, his face unreadable, hollow. It's a mask you've seen him wear too many times now, a defense mechanism, something to protect the broken parts of him he never lets anyone see.

You sip your wine slowly, the bitter taste doing little to mask the bile rising in your throat. A strange mixture of dark satisfaction and aching sadness twists inside you, an uncomfortable knot of emotions you can't quite unravel.

He doesn't love her, you remind yourself. He's still yours. He promised.

But the truth is, the wine does little to dull the sharp edge of betrayal. The ceremony feels like a bad dream, one you can't wake up from.

It's a sham. Just a business arrangement, nothing more. A duty to his late brother Shinichiro, who made a deal with her family long ago, a deal Mikey feels bound to honor. You respect that, you always have. His loyalty is part of what made you fall for him all those years ago.

But it still feels like a knife in your chest, twisted with every vow spoken. You won't question it though. You can't. Because questioning it would mean questioning Shin's memory, and that's something you'll never do. Still, the pain lingers, like a bruise you can't stop pressing on.

As the ceremony ends and the couple walks down the aisle, Mikey's eyes meet yours, even from across the room. For a brief moment, his lips curve into that familiar soft smile, the one that's always been just for you, full of unspoken words and old promises. It's enough to settle your nerves, if only slightly.

He's still yours, you remind yourself again. This doesn't change anything.

The guests start to shuffle toward the reception hall, but you hang back, feeling the taste of the wine and the weight of the day pressing down on you. The laughter and chatter fades as you step into a quieter hallway, seeking a moment of solitude, a reprieve from the overwhelming noise of celebration.

But you're not alone. A figure leans against the far wall, tall and lean, with faded pink hair that you'd recognize anywhere.

Haruchiyo Sanzu.

Of course, he'd be here. Even though no one from Bonten was supposed to attend, you should've known Sanzu would show up, disregarding protocol like he always does. He's dressed in one of his garish purple suits, the cigarette in his hand burning slowly as he takes a long drag, his katana resting lazily against the wall next to him. The sight of it makes you roll your eyes despite the situation. How he manages to carry that damn thing everywhere without someone calling the cops on him is beyond you.

He doesn't even look at you as you approach, though you know he's aware of your presence. Sanzu's always like that—aloof, unreadable, like he's waiting for something but never telling you what.

Your heels click against the marble floor, the sound too loud in the silence, as you stop in front of him. You cross your arms, defensive.

You've never liked him. Not since the beginning. And he's never made an effort to hide the fact that he feels the same way about you. His disdain has been obvious for years now—cutting comments, backhanded remarks. Always just subtle enough to avoid Mikey's wrath.

"You shouldn't be here, Number Two," you say, your voice sharp, cutting through the haze of tension.

Sanzu exhales a slow stream of smoke, not bothering to meet your gaze as he taps the ash onto the floor, a flick of his wrist that seems deliberate in its carelessness.

"Neither should you," he replies, voice lazy, eyes flickering toward you briefly before he adds, with a smirk, "Mistress."

The word lands like a punch to the gut. You stiffen, your chest tightening as anger flares hot and fast inside you. You want to snap back, to tell him to fuck off, but you hold it in, forcing yourself to stay composed.

Sanzu's teal eyes slide back to you, and there's a gleam in them that you hate—a predatory gleam, like he's enjoying this far too much. He tilts his head, studying you like you're something amusing, something to poke and prod until it breaks.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" His voice is smooth, laced with mockery. "You know, it's almost cute. The way you're still holding out hope. Like he's going to drop everything and come running back to you."

"Shut up," you bite out, your voice low, controlled. "You don't know a damn thing about us."

That earns you a smirk, his scarred lips curling into something cold and twisted. "Don't I?" He takes another drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly as if savoring the moment.

"I know enough. I know he's up there, at the altar, with his wife, while you're out here clinging to whatever scraps he throws you."

You feel your fists tighten at your sides, nails biting into your palms. The urge to slap that smug look off his face is overwhelming, but you know better. You've learned that lesson the hard way. Sanzu isn't just annoying—he's dangerous. And he wouldn't hesitate to turn this entire ceremony into a disaster just to prove a point.

"Fuck you," you snap, barely keeping your voice steady.

Sanzu's smile fades, replaced by something colder, something far more dangerous. His eyes narrow, and for a brief moment, you wonder if you've pushed him too far. But then he chuckles, low and dark, like he's enjoying the tension between you.

"Fuck me, huh? That's the best you've got? Pathetic." His voice is almost amused, but there's an edge to it, a warning. "You're out here sulking while your beloved plays house. Maybe it's time you realize that fairy tale you're clinging to doesn't mean shit anymore."

You feel your heart hammering in your chest, a mix of anger and something you can't quite place. It's the truth in his words that stings the most, the haunting possibility that he could be be right.

"At least I'm not the one standing out here with a stupid katana looking like a damn fool," you shoot back, your voice sharp.

Sanzu's eyes flash, but instead of responding, he steps forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His presence is suffocating, too close, too intense. You feel your pulse quicken, the air between you crackled with unspoken danger.

"Maybe," he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl. "But you know you're not untouchable, right? Sooner or later, even Mikey won't be able to protect you. Then what?"

His words hang in the air like a threat, and for the first time, a shiver of uncertainty runs through you. You meet his gaze, refusing to show fear, but something about the way he's looking at you now—cold, calculating—makes your stomach churn.

You don't answer. Instead, you turn and walk away, your heels echoing in the empty hallway. But Sanzu's words linger, like a dark cloud that follows you, heavy and inescapable. You push them down, focusing on the only thing that matters: Mikey's promise.

But deep down, you wonder if Sanzu's right. And that thought, more than anything, terrifies you.

Manjiro Sano keeps his promises. At least, that's what you've always believed. He said it with conviction when you were fifteen, when his bright blonde hair caught the sunlight and his eyes reflected an unwavering certainty. His promises became your lifeline, a thread that tethered you to him, through the chaos of Tokyo Manji, through Bonten, through all the things that should have torn you apart. You never doubted him.

But now, with a ring on another woman's finger, that belief feels less like truth and more like denial.

You lie beside him, his arms wrapped loosely around you, his breath steady against your skin. In the quiet darkness, you try to convince yourself that this—you—is still his reality. Not the woman he married out of obligation. Not the business empire he's running. But you, the one he promised forever. The one he swore to love no matter what.

But there's something cold in his touch tonight. Not the soft warmth you used to know, but a distant, mechanical tenderness. His fingers trace absent patterns on your skin, but they feel foreign now, like they're just going through the motions. He's here, physically, but his mind is far away, lost in a place you can't reach.

"Did something happen?" you ask, keeping your voice light, even as anxiety twists in your stomach.

He's staring at the ceiling, eyes vacant, as if the weight of the world is pressing down on his chest. The silence is thick, heavy, a barrier between you that wasn't there before. You wish he'd tell you. You wish he'd break through that wall and let you in, but he never does. Not anymore.

He shifts slightly, his eyes meeting yours for just a second. "What do you mean, love?" His voice is soft, casual, but there's something missing. Something that used to be there—a spark, a fire that you could always count on. Now, it's just... hollow.

"You seem distracted," you murmur, choosing your words carefully, even though your heart is screaming to ask more.

Mikey sighs, his chest rising and falling beneath you. He pulls you closer, but the embrace feels almost... polite. Like he's afraid to hold on too tightly. You want to shake him, to tell him to stop being so careful. To hold you like he used to—like he was afraid of losing you. But instead, he just holds you the way someone holds a fragile thing.

"Yeah," he admits, his voice quieter now, as though he's confessing something he doesn't want to. "It's just Bonten stuff."

And that's it. The conversation ends. Your heart clenches at the emptiness of his explanation, at how easily he can sweep your concerns under the rug.

You know Bonten is complicated—dangerous even—but you've always been kept at a distance from that side of his world. He's never let you close enough to see the true depth of what he's carrying. You've respected his boundaries, trusted him, but now you wonder if that distance is starting to destroy you.

"Oh." The word leaves your lips, but it feels small, insignificant.

The silence returns, thicker than before, wrapping itself around both of you like a suffocating shroud. You stare at him, at the man you once thought you knew so completely, and wonder when he became a stranger.

You want to reach out, to bridge the gap, but fear holds you back. There's a fragility in the air tonight, something that makes you hesitate. If you push too hard, if you ask for too much, you're afraid the entire thing will shatter. Maybe it already has. Maybe that's why his touch feels different now, why his kisses lack the urgency they once had.

You long for the Mikey who would stay up with you until dawn, laughing, his arms tight around you as if you were his whole world. You miss the nights when he couldn't keep his hands off you, when his love felt raw and reckless, a fire that burned brighter than anything else. Now, it's all ashes.

"You don't have to carry it all alone," you whisper, hoping that your words might reach him, might bring him back from wherever he's gone. "I can help. You don't always have to protect me from it."

He doesn't respond right away. For a long moment, there's only the sound of his breathing, deep and rhythmic. When he finally speaks, his voice is distant, almost resigned.

"I know."

But he doesn't mean it. You can hear it in the way he says it—like it's just something he's supposed to say, not something he believes. His walls are still up, and you're on the outside, no matter how close you are in this bed, no matter how many nights you spend together.

You press your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Once, that sound would have comforted you. Now, it only makes you feel more alone. Even when he's with you, he's somewhere else. And the space between you grows wider every day.

"Mikey..." you try again, but your voice falters.

You want to tell him you're scared. That you're afraid you're losing him, that this marriage is pulling him further away from you than you can bear. But the words won't come.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, but it feels like a goodbye more than a reassurance. And that scares you most of all.

You close your eyes, trying to drown out the doubts, the fear, the aching emptiness. But it lingers, like a shadow that won't go away. You tell yourself he still loves you. He promised you forever. He's just... distracted. It's Bonten. It's the marriage. It's everything else.

But deep down, you know. You know that the Mikey who promised you forever is slipping further and further away. And no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to pull him back.

Manjiro Sano never lies to you. He never has before, and you never thought he could. You know he keeps secrets sometimes, but it's always to protect you—or so you've convinced yourself. You've clung to this justification, repeating it like a prayer when things feel too uncertain.

When there's a question he doesn't want to answer, he'll give you a vague response, the kind that leaves you in a haze of ambiguity, and you never push him further. You know better than to force the issue. Sometimes, he'll be blunt and tell you outright that it's none of your concern. But a lie? Never.

At least, he never did until now.

Sitting across from him, in the dim light of your shared apartment, the shadows cast across his face, you notice the subtle shift in his expression. His gaze remains low, unfocused, like he's avoiding you. The way his fingers tap against the armrest of his chair—once steady, now restless—betrays him. The quiet cadence of the room, punctuated by the tension building between you, only makes his discomfort more pronounced.

You know he's lying, even though the words are barely out of his mouth. It feels like a crack splintering through the foundation of your entire relationship.

It's not that you're good at detecting lies; you've never needed to be, not with him. His cold distance has always been paired with an odd, unwavering honesty, no matter how painful it could be. But this time? This time, he's hiding something. His body language is too off, too tense, like he's barely holding onto his own façade.

You asked a simple question: "Where were you?"

He hasn't been home in a week. It's not unusual—Mikey has never been the type to stick around. You've long since accepted the lonely nights, the excuses of 'business meetings' and 'late-night operations' with Bonten. You'd even accepted the wife.

But something feels different now, a gnawing unease that claws at the back of your mind. You thought he'd say he was dealing with Bonten's usual mayhem, or perhaps, reluctantly admit that he'd been spending time with her. Anything would've been better than the silence hanging in the air now, thick with unspoken truths.

But you never expected him to lie.

Instead of the rage you thought would surge, an icy dread curls through your chest. Fear. A raw, unsettling fear that digs its nails into you as you realize just how far away he feels. As if he's not just sitting across from you, but miles away, unreachable. The distance between you stretches and stretches, suffocating in its vastness. It's like watching him drift out to sea while you stand, helpless, on the shore.

You need answers. The kind you know Mikey won't give you. So you turn to the only other person who might know what's going on: Haruchiyo Sanzu.

God, you hate him. There's not a day that passes where you don't fantasize about knocking that arrogant smirk off his face. Sanzu embodies everything that repels you—his cruelty, his recklessness, his toxic devotion to Mikey. But one thing you can count on is that Sanzu never spares your feelings. If anything, he takes sadistic pleasure in tearing you down with his cold truths.

And that's why you're standing here, in front of his door, hand trembling slightly as you press the doorbell. The silence stretches, your heartbeat loud in your ears. You press the button again, your anxiety spiking with each passing second.

Finally, the door creaks open, and there he is—Sanzu. He leans lazily against the doorframe, like your presence is a personal offense. His disheveled appearance surprises you—hair unkempt, shirt unbuttoned at the top. There's a faint scent of soap, but he looks like he's been in a rush, as if your arrival interrupted something.

His eyes narrow, flashing with irritation. "The fuck you doing here?" His voice is cold, almost bored, like he can't be bothered to care.

"I need to talk to you." You're surprised your voice comes out steady when everything inside you feels like it's spiraling out of control.

Sanzu doesn't even give you the courtesy of a full response. He turns, slamming the door behind him, heading toward the elevator without a second glance. You follow, your pulse quickening. His long strides make it difficult to keep up.

"Where are you going?" you ask, slightly breathless. You hate how small you feel next to him, like you're always scrambling to catch up.

"To work. Where else?" He doesn't even look back as he taps the elevator button impatiently. His eyes flick to you briefly, condescending, before he adds, "Unlike you, I don't have the luxury of doing nothing all day."

The dismissiveness in his tone grates on your nerves. You swallow back the retort, knowing it's not worth the fight. You're not here to argue with Sanzu—you're here for something much more important.

The elevator ride is thick with tension, the air suffocating between you. He stares at the floor numbers as they change, clearly eager to get away from you. You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to say what you came here for.

"I need to ask you about Mikey. About what's happening with Bonten..." Your words feel heavy in the silence.

Sanzu's head snaps toward you, eyes sharp and piercing. There's a moment of silence, and you feel the weight of his stare, like he's assessing how much to toy with you before answering.

"I warned you," he says, voice dangerously low. "Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Just because you're Mikey's little sidepiece doesn't mean you're part of this world."

Sidepiece. The word hits like a slap, stinging far more than you'd care to admit. But you hold your ground, your voice sharper now as you bite back, "I was asking nicely, wasn't I?"

He lets out a cruel chuckle, his amusement laced with mockery. "Nice? You call that nice? More like whining."

When the elevator doors open, Sanzu strides out, leaving you to catch up once again. You hurry behind him, the cold concrete of the basement parking lot biting through your shoes as you watch him head toward the row of parked bikes.

"Just tell me where Mikey's been," you call out, your voice cracking slightly. The desperation seeps through despite your best efforts to keep it buried.

Sanzu doesn't even slow down. He throws a leg over his black superbike, adjusting the helmet in his hands.

His tone is icy as he responds, "Why would I bother telling you anything at all?"

You feel the panic rising, the gnawing insecurity clawing at your chest. You can't let this go.

"It's his wife, isn't it? Something's going on between them?" The words tumble out before you can stop them, but you know it's true.

Sanzu finally turns to face you, his expression dark, a twisted glint in his eyes. "You really wanna know?" His voice is like a knife, cold and cutting.

"Married couples fuck and have kids. You didn't think they'd just sit around holding hands, did you?"

Your world tilts. Pregnant. Mikey's wife is pregnant. The words hang in the air, crushing you. Sanzu's bike roars to life, drowning out everything as he speeds away, leaving you standing there, reeling.

Manjiro Sano says he still loves you. He says it so many times, even when you confront him about her pregnancy. You have tears in your eyes, your voice quivering as the words left your lips. His hands, warm and gentle, hold you close—just like always. The softness in his embrace feels too familiar, almost comforting, like you could convince yourself, just for a moment, that nothing has changed. That you could still believe him.

He'd whispers that she might be his wife, but you are the one who had his heart. That his feelings for you haven't shifted, not even after this new life he is bringing into the world. That you still matter.

But something about it never sits right after that day.

It isn't the sex that bothers you. You've made peace with that. He is married, after all, and while it stings, you tell yourself it's just physical. Something they have to do. Something that won't affect your place in his life. Mikey's quiet assurances of love are enough to quell the hurt, at least for a while. He always knows exactly what to say, how to soothe your insecurities without letting them fester.

Until they do.

Each time he doesn't come home, doesn't call, doesn't text—each time he leaves you waiting, that old promise of his love grows weaker. It starts to feel like a distant echo, hollow and fragile. The uncertainty eats you away, the creeping doubt filling the space between your conversations. And then comes the guilt. You couldn't ignore it anymore, couldn't shove it to the back of your mind. She is pregnant with his child.

And you?

You are the other woman now. The mistress. The sidepiece.

You tell yourself to be patient, to wait it out, to trust him. But those same reassurances you cling to begin unraveling with every unanswered phone call. Mikey's silences cut deeper than his words ever could, a painful reminder that you are no longer the center of his world. You are becoming the afterthought.

And today is your ninth anniversary. Nine years.

Nine years since the day the two of you had become inseparable, since the day you thought you'd be each other's forever. And as you get ready, as you slip on your favorite dress and touch up your makeup, you're hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia—memories flooding back of how you used to be. How easy it was back then, how natural everything felt when there were no lies between you.

It takes everything in you to keep your spirits up as you head to his office, imagining the look on his face when you surprise him. Maybe that's what you need—a face-to-face reminder of who you are to him. That spark between you will rekindle, and the distance will melt away.

You hope.

The lobby feels colder than usual, and as you step inside, something feels off. The receptionist greets you with a stiff smile. You've seen her enough times to know that she's never this tense. She doesn't say much, but there's an awkwardness in the air, like she knows something you don't.

Your nerves tighten as you enter the elevator. The ride to the top floor feels longer than usual, the anticipation in your chest growing with each passing second. When the doors open, you step out into the executive lounge, the familiar sight of Bonten's most trusted members lounging around.

Ran is the first to notice you, his lazy smirk never quite reaching his eyes. Kakucho is next, nearly spilling his drink when he spots you.

"You okay there?" you ask with a light laugh, trying to ignore the unease in the pit of your stomach.

Kakucho straightens up, but his eyes dart nervously toward the hallway that leads to Mikey's office. "You here to see Mikey?" he asks, his voice strained.

You nod, offering him a small smile. "Yeah. I thought I'd surprise him."

Ran's smirk doesn't falter, but there's something about the way he's watching you that makes your skin prickle.

"Surprise, huh?" he says, his voice cool and detached.

Kakucho shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering between you and the hallway again. "Maybe now isn't the best time..." he starts, his voice trailing off as if he doesn't want to finish the thought.

But you brush off the strange tension between them. Kakucho's always been awkward with you, right?

You make your way down the hall, your heels clicking against the marble floors in rhythm with your racing heart. This is supposed to be a happy moment—your anniversary. You don't want to ruin it by reading too much into their strange behavior.

But then you hear it.

A voice. Her voice.

You freeze mid-step, the sound of her moaning his name sending a violent shock through your system. The world around you blurs, your body moving on autopilot as you edge closer to the door, your hand trembling as you press it against the wood. The crack in the door is just wide enough for you to see.

Mikey is there, his wife's legs draped over his shoulders, his hands on her thighs, his face pressed between her legs.

You can't breathe.

This is different.

Not the act itself—but the intimacy, the tenderness in how he touches her. He's doing something for her that he's never done for you. Not once, in all your time together, had he ever gone down on you. But here he is, giving her something more, something deeper. And you feel your heart shatter into a million pieces.

You can't stay here.

Your feet carry you backward, your movements slow, cautious. You shut the door as softly as you can, careful not to make a sound. Your entire body feels numb, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach as you stand there, staring at the ground, trying to process what you've just seen.

Why did he never do that for you?

A rush of shame washes over you, mingling with the rage bubbling in your chest. You'd always told yourself you were enough for him. But now you wonder—were you? Was it all a lie, just something to keep you hanging on, while he gave her all the things you thought were reserved for you?

The world feels like it's tilting around you, the walls closing in as you stand there, numb. The sound of footsteps snaps you back to reality.

"You're here to see Mikey too?" Kakucho's voice filters through the haze.

"Yeah, yeah," comes the lazy reply.

It's Sanzu, his voice slurred and casual, as if nothing in the world could touch him. He's closer now, and you barely register it, lost in the whirlwind of your own thoughts.

Ran's voice follows, a teasing edge to his tone. "Dude, you're tripping balls."

Sanzu laughs, a sound so careless it makes your skin crawl. "Friday night, what'd you expect?"

Before you can fully process the situation, a rough hand grabs you by the arm and yanks you back. You stumble, whirling around to face him.

Sanzu.

His teal eyes are wild, bloodshot and blown wide from whatever cocktail of drugs he's taken today. You know he's high, as the smell of drugs clinging to him, intoxicating the air around you.

"What the fuck are you up to this time?" he sneers, his voice low and mocking.

You try to pull away, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging painfully into your arm. "S-Sanzu, I—"

He cuts you off, his face uncomfortably close to yours now. "Scared?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. The sick amusement in his voice makes your stomach turn. He's enjoying this—enjoying your fear, your vulnerability.

You try to twist free, but he pulls you closer, his lips curling into a twisted smile. "You should be," he whispers, his voice dripping with malice.

Your heart races, panic clawing at your chest. Sanzu when he's like this—high, unpredictable—is a beast you've learned to fear. He's always been unstable, but now, he's downright terrifying.

Yet, as you stand there, trembling in his grasp, all you can think about is Mikey. The lie he told you. The image of him with her, of how easily he discarded you, flashes through your mind again and again.

I still love you.

The words are poison now, burning through you as Sanzu's grip tightens.

< part one ends >

author's notes. heyy sanzu kinnies <3 i'm so excited to finally share the first part of 'bonten's number two'!! this idea has been brewing in my head for two years lol and i cant wait to see what you think ;) if you enjoyed it, please consider leaving notes! i'd love to hear your thoughts!! thanks for reading guys! you're awesome (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

taglist. @iluv-ace @reiners-milkbiddies (comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

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