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ranhaitanisgf · 4 months

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hi! could i request headcanons or oneshot (either is okay) for bonten timeline sanzu haruchiyo with an excitable, extroverted reader? thank you so much, and no worries if not! (+ also your theme still says rqs are closed, but i saw you posted them being open two hrs ago :3)

pay attention to me!!

synopsis: how would bonten haruchiyo act w/ an excited & extroverted s/o?

☆ a/n ˎˊ˗ idk if yall can tell but ive never written for mr haru lawl ... also !! i added a little mini oneshot cause i couldn't help myself :3 thank you so much for requesting !! this was so cute to write !! i hope everyone enjoysss xoxo

☆ characters ˎˊ˗ sanzu (akashi) haurchiyo x g/n!reader

☆ wc ˎˊ˗ 2.7k+

masterlist

❥ sanzu thinks you’re annoying at first.

❥ he doesn’t notice at all when you first move into his apartment building; he doesn’t take much care in noticing small things like that if it didn’t relate to bonten. his work and mikey were the only important things to him, so when he hears excited squealing seeping through his walls one day, he thinks that his neighbor has a kid, (which quite frankly annoyed him, but he decided he didn’t care enough to do anything about it).

❥ there was no estimated time as to when he would get home--ranging anywhere from 6pm to 4am--so it takes at least a month or two for him to meet you officially. coincidentally, he had been going out to grab a drink from the convenience store when you were excitedly jumping around outside your door, a delivery package in your hands.

“oh! omg, are you sanzu-san?!” “...hah? who’re you?” “oh my gosh, i’ve been knocking on your door everyday for the past month, but you never seemed to be home! i never got to introduce myself to you! i’m (l/n) (y/n)! i moved in not that long ago, so i wanted to get to know my neighbors!” “‘kay. bye.”

❥ the only thing he wants to do is get away from you; he doesn’t want to be bothered with civilians, much less someone as annoying as you seemed to be. seriously, why were you talking so loud?!

❥ much to his displeasure, you followed him all the way to the convenience store, talking his ear off about the most meaningless things he’s ever heard of in his life, (how does somebody talking about nothing for so long?!) as he purchases his drinks and walks back to the apartment building. it takes everything in him not to snap at you; if he did, he would probably wake up all the neighbors from raising his voice, which wouldn’t be ideal since this was already his fifth apartment in the last six months.

❥ he’s unsure how you possibly couldn’t get a hint that he didn’t want to be bothered, especially after he only said a maximum of ten words to you in the whole thirty minutes you were following him around, (are you really that clueless? is this what loneliness does to people?). it does take him by surprise that you aren’t scared of him though; you’d shown absolutely no sign of apprehension despite the scars around his mouth, which he supposes shows a bit of good character from you. not that he really cares.

❥ he’s more than happy to shut the door on your face when he gets back to his apartment, finally indulging in the peace and quiet of his apartment, (he doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to hear nothing). right when he’s opening his bottle of sake, he hears squealing through the walls. when you start monologuing about whatever you’d received in the mail, he just decides to quit and go to bed.

❥ sanzu isn’t sure how, but you have somehow made it your routine to follow him places whenever you ran into him. he also isn’t sure why he continuously allows you to tag along with him, but as long as it doesn’t affect his work, he doesn’t really care.

❥ you’re always talking about something; the weather, your coworker’s strange behavior the other day, or the stray cat you saw in the alleyway that ran away. there are times when he tunes out your talking and uses it as white noise, but you never seemed to get upset at the fact that he visibly is zoning out.

❥ after a while, he gets used to your constant presence around him, so much so that he finds it strange to not hear your excited yammering while he’s at work, (although he supposes he wouldn’t want to have that constantly in his ear while he’s doing ‘business’ with someone).

❥ the one thing that gets the attention of the rest of the bonten executives is when he suddenly stops going to the clubs, leaving whatever work he had there for during the day when it was barren. it was such a drastic change in behavior; sure, sanzu was never the type to be obsessed with the scantily dressed girls in the club, but he was known for taking some home every once in a while. at the very least, he was known for getting various types of substances from sketchy dealers who frequently attended. what’s even stranger to everyone is the fact that he slowly starts to engage in less substances, (though he still does every once in a while) which is what rings the alarm bells.

“oi, sanzu.” “what do you want, ran? i’m fuckin’ busy.” “well, it can wait. the fuck’s been up with you lately? you’ve been acting weird as shit.” “so?” “so, what the hell’s been up with you?” “none of your goddamn business, that’s what.” “woahh, easy there, man. seriously, somethin’ bothering you?” “i said it’s nothing, so drop it.”

❥ by the time he realizes what he’s been doing, it’s too late for him. you and your talkative self have wiggled their way into his heart, setting up camp to stay for a while. he had a glimpse of a thought of it when ran was confronting him, but he immediately pushed it out of his mind because how could that possibly be true?

❥ it can’t be true, even if he unwillingly likes to think about it now. he can’t let himself think about it; you were one of the most strange yet innocent and pure people he’s ever met, so how could he willingly taint you with someone like himself? no, he wouldn’t let it happen.

❥ and just like that, everything seems to be back to normal for him. he goes to the club even more than he did before, and the amount of substances he uses seems to increase exponentially by the week. he begins to sleep on the couch in his dingy office instead of going home so that he doesn’t run into you, only going home for the bare essentials every couple days, (and even then, he leaves after just a few minutes).

❥ it’s just his luck that he gets out of his car the moment you turn the corner onto the apartment building’s block, seeing him in plain sight as he freezes for a moment. and then he unfreezes because 1.) why is he of all people scared to run into you? he’s a bonten executive, he’s killed people before, so why was his heart beating so fast right now? and 2.) he needs to get away from there. right now.

˗ˏˋ𖤐ˎˊ˗

“hey!! not so fast, haruchiyo!!” you shout, your steps hastening as you try to catch up with him. sanzu can hear your steps behind him, but his long legs give him the advantage as he quickly ducks into the apartment building, smashing the elevator button and tapping his foot as it decides to be as slow as it possibly can be.

he lets out a ‘tsk!’ sound when he notices you enter the building, promptly looking away from you and looking cooly at the blinker indicating what level the elevator was on, (can this thing move faster?!).

“stop ignoring me!! where have you been?!” you questioned, your voice a mix of worry and anger. “i’ve been knocking on your door everyday with no response!! i know you don’t particularly like me, but you’re the only person who doesn’t walk away from me, so could you at least give me a reason that you suddenly started avoiding me?!”

“...’m not avoiding you.” sanzu doesn’t know what to do right now; he’s never seen you angry like this before. typically, he would care less about the feelings of some random person like you, but for some reason the hurt in your voice makes him unusually unsure of himself.

you scoffed at his lame excuse, rolling your eyes.

“look! you’re trying to avoid me right now with elevator! seriously, can you just tell me what i did? i won’t do it again, i swear! just stop avoiding me!”

“fuck, it’s not you!” sanzu suddenly said, his voice strained. “i’m just busy, okay?! you’re better off being friends with someone else.”

“but you’re already my friend!! why don’t you want to keep talking to me??” sanzu ignored your words, his gaze staring straight ahead at the doors of the elevator, his stare so intense that you could almost think he was trying to open it telepathically. “hey!! can you just answer the damn question already, haruchiyo?!”

“why do you need to know so fuckin’ badly?! i just said i’m busy!!”

“because! i like you!” you yelled, your eyes seeming to get a bit watery. “and i know you don’t like me and that’s fine but i just want to be able to talk to you and see you sometimes, but now you’re always gone and i don’t know when you’re going to come back and it scares me! i just-”

sanzu cut off your words, promptly stepping in front of you and slipping his hand behind your head, slamming his lips into yours. he’s not even sure himself why he did something stupid like this, especially when the whole reason he was avoiding you was because of his own flaws, but he couldn’t help himself when he heard you being so cute and worried over him, (seriously, how was he supposed to resist something like that?).

it obviously took you off guard at first, but sanzu made sure you quickly realized what was going on, his mouth desperately pressing against yours. his kiss was rough but passionate, his lips moving quickly against yours as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand sliding around you to rest on the small of your back, (he’s doing it purely out of instinct; he hasn’t really thought about how he had been avoiding you for this very reason).

a small ding! from the elevator grabs your attention, making you push him off of you as someone comes out from the elevator, glancing at the two of you a bit suspiciously before walking out of the building, leaving both of you in silence.

“uh…wanna go to the convenience store for snacks…?”

˗ˏˋ𖤐ˎˊ˗

❥ it took a little bit for sanzu to open up to you about anything even a little bit, but once he did, you were able to figure him out pretty quickly, especially when he’d finally decided to be truthful about his actual profession, (bro does not work an office 9-5). due to all of this, it’s easy to tell that sanzu has a lot of issues, but it wasn’t something that you weren’t willing to work through with him!

❥ the two of you are the definition of black cat and golden retriever! you are always excited about everything and are taking him to all the cool and trendy places on dates while he is more quiet, keeping close to your side and watching everything with a careful eye, (especially people he defines as creeps, i.e. people who look at you for more than 0.2 seconds).

❥ date wise, he is usually following your lead. he doesn’t have the slightest clue about what you think it romantic, so it will usually be you planning outings for the two of you. a lot of times he will complain about being tired and not wanting to go out, but don’t worry, he’s completely lying; he just thinks it’s cute when you whine and pull his arm asking him to come out with you.

❥ despite the fact that he is not the most romantic guy, he does a lot of romantic things without realizing. he enjoys sending you your favorite flowers when you’re at work or staying at home while he’s at work, sending cute little notes along with them, (well, you think they are pretty cute).

i think you like these ones. -h be ready by seven. wear something you feel good in. -h sorry i didn’t buy milk. there’s frozen waffles in the freezer. -h

❥ sanzu does a lot of those little things for you too; opening doors for you, pulling chairs out for you, taking things out of your hands when you’re carrying a lot, etc. it doesn’t seem like he’s the type to do things like this, but it’s because he isn’t the type to do it. he only does it for you, and he himself doesn’t even know why he does these things, (he’s head over heels in love with you, but in no universe will he ever actually admit that).

❥ the most protective over you, and a little possessive too. he doesn’t control everything that you do, but he likes to have a clear-cut plan of everything you do on a normal day so that his mind is put at ease, (also so he can known when something is wrong). he won’t tell you this, but he has someone assigned to keeping an eye on your as you go about your day because he’s extremely paranoid that somebody from an opposing gang will try and come after you. he would prefer if he could by your side himself, but it’s the next best option, (he still sends frequent texts and calls you throughout the day to make sure everything is well).

❥ the possessive part of him comes out more when he thinks people are hitting on you, (they really are just being nice; he’s just a little bit crazy…he loves you though!!). he doesn’t hesitate to slide his long arms all around you, letting you continue talking while he makes a deadly eye contact with the person, his face twisted in mild disgust as if he were looking down at a cockroach, (he’s mastered this expression somehow). he knows that you enjoy talking with people so he won’t keep you from doing so, but in the process he will make sure that everybody knows you’re his.

❥ sanzu’s not the most affectionate person there is, but he is affectionate when he wants to be. there are times when he’ll come home and not say a word, just wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about having a terrible day. really, he just becomes a big baby when he’s like that, laying his lanky limbs all over you and claiming that he’s ‘recharging’.

❥ it’s hard to label sanzu as an extrovert/introvert, since it can really depend on what mood he’s in and the situation. he’s more of an introvert in public settings with other people, (he doesn’t know how to interact nicely with people he doesn’t know) but when he’s with a majority of people he knows, he turns into more of an extrovert which matches with your energy quite nicely.

❥ unintentionally, there comes a time when you accidentally get to meet the rest of his coworkers. it happened when they were dropping him back off at home after a night at the club and you’d had to come get him from the car because of how inebriated he was.

“woah, you’re (y/n), huh?” “oh, yes! it’s nice to meet you! you all must work with haru, right? please continue to take good care of him! would you like to come inside for a snack or some water?” “...dude, what the fuck.” “how the hell did he bag someone like that?!”

❥ safe to say, they are all extremely shocked, (they never would have thought that someone like sanzu would be dating someone as sweet and talkative as you). the next day when he gets into work, he’s immediately hounded with all types of questions surrounding you and how the two of you started to date.

“holy shit, is that why you were acting crazy a few months ago?!” “i wasn’t acting fuckin’ crazy?!” “sanzu, you’re the craziest person here, and you started acting normal!! that was crazy!!”

❥ after that, he makes sure that his associates never get to see you again, (“hey, bring your pretty lil thing around sometime!”, “i would rather kill you right now.”).

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bontensruby · 2 months

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me: oh, he's kinda cute.

normal people: HE'S A MURDERER!

me: but he kinda cute..

('s okay, druggie. I still love yah. 🥰)

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skelliko · 2 months

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Sanzu Haruchiyo |°- yandere sanzu stalking you

• his stalking started off small and tame, but over time his mind began to get corrupted and caused his brain to go overboard and think that the both of you are in a relationship that you just don't know about.

• when your presence is around him hes quiet and tries to make himself almost unseen by not even looking at you, but when you're far from him his eyes are always on you as if you have a red arrow above your head that only sanzu can see

• he knows a lot of things about you despite only ever exchanging very few words maybe once or twice.

• he knows the basics such as your birthday and what your hobbies are but then it gets a little more concerning cause he also knows where you live and with who and he's gained all this information in his own way with no ones else's help, he also knows which window is to your bedroom.

• he's made a list of all the things he knows about you that way he can keep track of it all and he looks back at it almost daily making it to be engraved into his mind. though he also has another list of things that hes guessed about you, he guesses issues that you may have from certain traits that you expose and he also guesses others things that he hasn't been able to be informed on but he links those guesses from the first list.

• has quite a bit of photos stored on his phone, any chance he gets of capturing your beauty he takes a picture of the scene. he occasionally looks back on those photos and when he realises that a photo came out blurry he gets irritated because he can't go back and re-do it, but he still keeps it and doesn't delete it because it's still a memory to have.

• whenever he just so happens to walk past your house he stands back and tries to see if he can subtly see anyone through the window and he mainly hopes that it's you, but seeing a parent or a sibling isn't all that bad because then he pays attention on if there's any similarities.

• if you live in an apartment instead of a house he'd do the same thing with the window watching but he'd also occasionally walk up to your door and press his ear against it to see if he can hear any voices. depending on how big or small the apartment is then depends on how thin or thick the walls are and half the time you can hear anyone's voice or thud.

• when you're out shopping for perfume, skin care, shampoo/conditioner or anything that may leave a certain scent on you sanzu gets the same thing. he uses the same hair products as you and occasionally sprays the same perfume as you on a piece of clothing that he then sniffs pretending that the shirt is yours.

• he doesn't try to purposely follow you around, but when he unintentionally sees you in public all of his thoughts disappear and instead he chooses to just briefly see where your going. a brief moment then turns into straight up stalking like a big cat and it's prey, all the way until you get home.

• though when he does accidentally see you out in public, even if you're with someone else, sanzu gets so delusional that cause of his messed up mind he convinces himself that you're madly in love with him and that you're also stalking him in return, tho that is far from the true reality. due to this he always feels a rush of warmth thinking that your following him and he makes it out to be a one sided competition to indicate that he can do and love so much more than you can.

• any person that you come in contact with that he considers to be a threat to your 'relationship' he sabotages by spreading around fake rumours about yourself or the person so that the both of you would cut contact

• whenever he gets a dream about you he believes it to be some sort of sign, either a bad or good one. if it's considered to be a bad dream then he gets pissed off at you and makes your week to be miserable in any way he can think of. but after that week he goes back to treating you how he did before, still with a few bad intentions until he can fully get over it because he's that dramatic but it's calmed down a little.

• he sticks 'sweet' little notes on your window at night, but sometimes when you do something that he didn't like he turns those notes as threats

♡----

#not my favourite of works but its whatever #just something small i had in my mind #tokyo revengers #sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #akashi haruchiyo #tokyo revengers haruchiyo sanzu #sanzu x reader #haruchiyo x reader #sanzu stalker #yandere #yandere sanzu #Tokyo revengers yandere

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maehemthemisfit · 2 years

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Parenting Fails

synopsis: tr men (mikey, sanzu, rindou) and chaotic events of raising children. (pt 1?)

warnings: underage drinking, child endangerment, just tiny people in bad situations and traumatized fathers.

masterlist - requests are open!

— MIKEY

Loves to throw his child up in the air as a form of entertainment which also seems to calm them down and make them giggle. It was all fun and games until he threw them up again.

It was a whooosh! followed by a BUMP! and his life flashed before his eyes.

The way this man's jaw dropped is beyond me. He caught his kid who looked dazed and baffled while he stood there, hand covering his open mouth out of shock and pure fear as tears welled in his eyes upon hearing your hurried footsteps and worried voice.

You were gonna kill him.

— SANZU

He had a really bad headache and could barely focus on anything, still you left him in charge of taking care of the little toddler. He had a meeting with Bonten so he had no choice but to take the little devil with him, leaving them with a secretary that looked stressed out of her mind.

He still made an effort to take a peek every now and then and give the kid some food- which Kakucho probably reminded him to do. Things were going well until it wasn't, shit hitting the fan when his kid staggered into the room abruptly.

"W-wad! I... want mo j..juice?" His kid nearly crawled towards him, their request coming off more as a question. It only took two seconds to realize what the fuck was going on, judging from the glass in his kid's hand that held remnants of the alcohol the other members were previously drinking.

"Shit!" He hissed, scooping his child up into his arms and coddling them. "No, no, no, you were fine like a minuet ago, why??" Sanzu cried, eyes blown wide and shaking his kid as his world came crashing down on him.

"I hope you made a will," Kokonoi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as Kakucho searched for a bottle of water. Everyone's faces immediately paled once they realized they dire of the situation.

"Yeah, no shit, she's gonna kill me for being irresponsible, then she's gonna kill all of you for not stopping me from being irresponsible!" His kid continued to slur and babble incoherent words which didn't help the panicking pinkette. "I'm too pretty to die..."

Ran deadpaned as Mikey's eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of Sanzu's phone, noticing a notification that was soon to end everyone's career. "Uh, Sanzu...?"

Bonten's number two sent a shaky look to his boss, eye twitching on the edge of a breakdown as he held his child to his chest, praying to the higher Gods that Mikey was gonna tell him something good.

"y/n's coming back in 20 minuets."

His heart practically fell out of his ass.

"Fuck."

— RINDOU

You know when you lose something that you can't find for shit so you just start looking in places you know damn well it couldn't be in? Yeah that was Rin.

"Get up." "Dude, you're kid isn't under this couch."

You know he's gone mad when he starts flinging cabinets open and close and mumbling how this was it, this was gonna be your 13th reason, it's all over for him.

Deadass lost his kid for a good two hours.

That was until he found the little gremlin walk in with a tired Ran and an annoyed Sanzu. Apparently, they found them wondering outside on their way back from a mission.

Yeah that could've gone way worse. Especially if you found out...

"Look daddy! I made a new friend!" His child smiled, bouncing up and down as they fumbled to retrieve something from their pocket.

"What is it sweeth-" Rindou choked when his kid pulled their friend out of their pocket, not even having time to react as this big ass fucking roach flew straight into his face, nearly getting into his mouth.

The WAY this man SCREAMED had Sanzu thinking his balls were kicked back in as the older haitani was left wheezing on the floor, watching his brother fight for his life against a bug.

Tears. This man was in tears. Out of all the humans on this earth and his kid 'made friends' with a roach.

He was gonna be sick

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mxnbi · 3 months

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Back for seconds

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙ ──────────────────

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙Bonten!Sanzu X fem!reader

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙You just had to come back and see what else the three enthralling men had to offer tonight, and it seems like Sanzu knows just how to one up Ran

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙cw: Voyeurism, Exhibitionist, publix sex, degrading, fem reader, slight over stimulation ????, club sex, drunk sex

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙tags: sanzu haruchiyo sanzu bonten sanzu tokrev sanzu tokyo revengers tokyo manji gang haruchiyo siblings anime anime smut sanzu x reader sanzu x fem reader sanzu smut club sex public sex sanzu tenjiku

21+ nsfw smut, minors DTI

After an excruciating long week, Saturday finally came.

You walked into the club feeling on top of the world. You knew some eyes would be locked on you, why else did you choose the skimpiest dress?

To your surprise, the same trio were seated right where they were exactly a week ago. You didn’t expect them to take your word for it.

Despite your body sending a subtle chill down your spine and down to your pussy as you recalled your sloppy session in the bathroom, you still weren’t going to give them what they want just yet.

Turning on your dangerously high heels, you strutted towards the bar to loosen yourself up for the night, adding a little sway to your hips with each step you took.

“A margarita please, thanks!”

You got comfy on the high stool, feeling your dress hike up ever so slightly but you’re not concerned about that.

Sipping away, your mind wandered off, trying to decipher a plan on approaching the same men who were shooting lustful gazes towards your direction, unbeknownst to you.

Back at their table, Sanzu and Rindou bickered as they tried to fight for your tight hole tonight.

“Ran went last week and since he’s your brother, your turn is technically over!”

Rindou — now astounded at Sanzu’s idiocy — is unable to speak for a brief moment until he finally picked his jaw off the floor.

“Sanzu, you are actually the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

Ran chuckled into his glass while watching what looked like 2 kids fighting over a toy before letting the cold liquid gold pour into his mouth.

Sanzu hastily got up, squeezing between Rindou and the table to physically get to you first, wanting to claim you for the night.

He maniacally laughed at Rindou’s fading shouts of injustice as he skipped his way over to you like a kid who saw a candy shop.

Right when you finally mustered up the courage to approach them, you got off your chair and was immediately met with a firm chest to your face, knocking you back onto the stool.

The smell of alcohol and cigarettes tickled your nose as you looked up, seeing scar boy grinning down at you like he’s got something up his sleeve.

“Hey pretty, you’re with me tonight okay~”

He cooed at you all while still maintaining that crazy smile on his face. Sanzu leaned down, cornering you into the bar.

Unable to process whatever had just happened, you felt him peck you on the lips before he yanked you off the stool and dragged you through the club by the arm like a rag doll.

You stumbled along, trying to keep up with his long strides. Before you knew it, you’re back at their table.

“Move over dude.”

You mumbled a bunch of “Sorry”s while Sanzu pushes you through Rindou, trying not to step on his toes in the process of getting where Sanzu originally sat.

Finally sitting down, your mind raced with possible scenarios that could play out, because if you getting stuffed with their load was the end goal of tonight, you haven’t a clue as to why your sitting down.

You felt the leather seat puff up as Sanzu sank into the chair, followed by an alarming sound of a belt unbuckling.

“Watch and learn Rin.”

Sanzu smirked at the man with a glass in his hand, eyes now wandering around your body.

Your eyes widened when you felt a cold hand caress your leg before roughly spreading you wide.

Sanzu’s slim fingers rubbed circles at your pussy through the thin fabric of your thong, releasing a soft sigh from your lips.

You tried to close your legs to keep whatever shame you had left but Sanzu didn’t seem to like it.

“C’mon baby we need to give them a show!”

He hoisted you up to sit on the back rest of the chair and opened your legs once more, your pussy now on display for them to see. It was at this moment that you were glad their table was more secluded.

Sanzu left a trail of kisses from your knee to your upper thigh, all while he pushed your thong to the side and played with your slicked pussy.

You bit your lip, trying not to attract any weird stares but you surprised yourself with how turned on you are, feeling like a work of art displayed in a museum.

“I didn’t know she was this slutty.”

You locked eyes with Ran, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, unable to retaliate as Sanzu played with your clit.

He slipped two fingers in you, finally releasing an audible moan that was just music to their ears.

Your hips twitched and writhed under Sanzu’s touch, loving the way he prodded at your walls in all directions, making sure he left his mark on every part of you.

You became wetter by the second, their intense gaze on you making you gush like a water fall.

Your hands come up to play with your tit, pulling your dress down and juggling them in your hand.

Your body jerked at the sudden quick pace of Sanzu’s fingers, now deeper than before.

You wanted to cum in front of these men so bad that your pussy ached and clenched around his digits, trying so hard to reach that high that you’ve been craving so badly for.

“Oh f-fuck yes…h-harder..”

You pushed out whatever words you can while you slowly grind against his fingers, feeling his palm graze at your puffy clit.

“God she has no shame at all, I love her.”

The three men exchanged degrading comments and laughs while your grinding escalated to sloppy riding, now bouncing on his fingers with your juices dripping down, coating the expensive red leather.

Sanzu playfully bit at your thighs, making you squirm under his touch. The way you lose all sense of yourself when he’s in you just makes his hard on even more uncomfortable in his tight pants.

Finally, when that tight knot in your stomach soon begins to snap, your legs start to lose their strength and your movements become messier.

”Oh fuck fuck yes oh my god.”

You sink down onto Sanzu’s fingers one last time as you came all over his fingers.

Trying to catch your breath, you felt a sudden emptiness as Sanzu slipped his wet fingers out before popping them in his mouth, cleaning them of your cum.

“Okay, now time for act 2!”

He pulled you down swiftly and before you knew it, you were resting his lap with your back pressed against his chest.

He felt his hand fidget beneath you, trying to free his throbbing member of his slacks.

“I’m not going to go easy okay?”

Once he aligned his leaking tip to your entrance, he plunged into you within a second, of course not giving you time to ease him in.

“Ah fuck!”

The regret you felt from that moan soon washed off as he pounded into your pussy mercilessly.

His fingers gripping onto the side of your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you so hard, you were seeing stars.

You made eye contact with the others, trying to gauge their reaction through tears welling up in your eyes, but all you could make out was their cocky smirk with a cigarette between their lips.

“You liking it pretty girl?”

Sanzu’s warm breath tickled your ear with that question, but you couldn’t string a single sentence together and simply replied with moans.

The brothers were turned on beyond imagination, just the sight of you being used like a toy just did it for them as they caved in and palmed themselves through their pants.

“Aw look baby! You’re so hot that you got them jerkin’ off!”

Forget replying, your legs could barely even support you right now if it wasn’t for Sanzu holding you up.

He groaned and sighed into your ear, a low reverberation ringing through your ears as his arrogant yet submissive moans sent a shockwave through your body.

His rough, calloused hand wrapped around your throat tightly, another point of contact to keep you still while he fucks you stupid.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as a drop of drool made it’s way down to your chin. You were experiencing pure ecstasy.

“F-fuck Sanzu…fuck I can’t anymore…”

Your poor pussy began to feel sore after being stretched out and abused by this man, but he wasn’t done until he filled you up to the brim.

He chuckled into your ear before gathering all his strength and thrusted into you at full speed.

“Ah fuck oh my god S-sanzu wait..!”

You didn’t even have to see him to imagine that sick grin on his face right now.

You moaned out loud, not being able to have the luxury of shame anymore with your perky tits and soaking pussy on display.

Your walls gripped at his veiny cock as you feel your second high approaching.

“Ohh fuck oh my god.”

Your body weight now resting completely in the hands of Sanzu, your legs trembled as it lost it’s strength as you came a second time, covering his cock in your clear cum.

Sanzu moans obnoxiously as he paints your walls white with his load when he finally cums.

You fall limp against his chest, your own heaving up and down, trying to recover from that crazy experience.

Sanzu slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, proudly showing off his work to the others as you feel a warmth drip down your hole and between your ass cheeks.

He brings a finger down to your pussy and scoops a hefty amount of the mixture before playing with it between his fingers.

You shook your head at his actions, but too fucked out to bother. You slowly but surely got up and wiped yourself clean in preparation for your long journey home.

“We really need to make you our toy.”

Sanzu stated while he packed himself in.

Before you could finally leave, you downed another shot after fixing up your appearance and was about to walk away until you felt a hand around your arm.

You turned back to see Rindou looking up at you with the most loving yet lust filled eyes.

“Don’t wear underwear next week.”

Oh boy, you’re in for another treat.

A/N: Hiok hiok things got busy but I’m back with part 2 hehe i hope yall like it <3

@desiray562 ❤️

#anime #tokyo revenger smut #tokyo revengers #anime smut #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu smut #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers sanzu #tokrev sanzu #bonten sanzu #tr sanzu #sanzu x you #sanzu x y/n #bonten #tokyo revengers haruchiyo sanzu #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #haruchiyo x reader

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saetoru · 2 years

Note

How about tokrev and jealous sex?

#𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 + 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐗

☰ INCLUDES ⋮ hanma shuji, haitani ran, ryuguji (draken) ken, sano (mikey) manjiro, sanzu haruchiyo

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+, fem! reader, jealous and possessive boys — exhibitionism + cunnilingus (hanma), unprotected sex + clit slapping (ran), fingering + orgasm denial + use of petname “princess” (draken), overstimulation + creampie (mikey), blow jobs + throat fucking + use of petname “atta girl” (sanzu)

— notes ⋮ me casually making mich tell me what to write for ran every time fjsndnd fanks micheth <3

✰ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 thinks it’s so cute that people try to test him—that they think you’re anything other than his as they give you sly smiles and make silly jokes, making you giggle. he never cares about his surroundings, doesn’t ever have a problem sprawling you over the nearest surface and throwing your legs over his shoulders no matter who’s around to witness, his long fingers teasing your slit before curling into your walls with a sloppy pace while he sucks on your clit. “see this cute lil pussy here,” he calls over his shoulder to the suboordinate in the distance, smirking at the way their face pales as they nod slowly, “well, it’s all mine.” he presses a kiss to your clit, giggling smugly when you writhe with a whine falling off your lips. “sh-shuji, please—” but his fingers instantly curl against your sweet spot to silence you, making your sob as you cut yourself off. “baby, don’t interrupt,” he warns sharply, his tongue lapping at your slick folds as his hands grab your thighs and wrench your legs further apart, ignoring the throb of his strained erection, “i’m teachin’ a lesson, okay? now be good and cum for me.”

✰ 𝐑𝐀𝐍 has your back against the mattress instantly, jaw clenched as he hovers over you and strokes his throbbing cock, lining it up against your weeping entrance. he squeezes your cheeks together, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. “don’t blame him for wanting you,” he grins, sinking into you with a sharp snap of his hips, making you gasp as you latch onto his shoulders, “but you don’t want ‘im, do you?” you’re too busy whining to answer him as his thumb slowly rubs over your clit—until you feel a slap against your cunt that makes you whine. “asked you a question, baby,” he grunts, hips snapping as he bullies into you roughly, “answer me,” he growls. you choke on a sob, nails digging into his shoulder as he moans into your neck, panting against your skin at the tight hug of your walls around his swollen cock. “n-no, only you,” you stutter, mewling as his thumb finds your clit again, tip slamming against your spot perfectly with each roll of his hips. he chuckles, kissing the shell of your ear smugly as he murmurs, “‘course not. no one else fucks you this good.”

✰ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 kisses you hungrily, hands roaming over your body before tugging your shirt over your head and off your body as his hands find your tits. his thumbs roll over your pebbled nipples, pinching them slightly while you whimper against his mouth. “these tits? mine,” he growls, one arm curling around you and pulling you closer as his hand sneaks past your waistband, pushing your underwear to the side and sinking two fingers into your wet folds. your head instantly falls to his shoulder, legs trembling as you barely stand upright, relying on his arm to keep you standing. “this pussy? also mine,” he says lowly, lips sucking on your neck as you fist his shirt and roll your hips to feel him deeper. “k-kenny, more,” you beg through a whine, breathy moans making his jaw clench and his pants tighten, “‘m gonna c-cum—n-no,” you cut yourself off as you choke on a sob, hips rutting to chase after his retreating fingers tears welling in your eyes as your orgasm dies down. he only grins and chuckles at you, faux sympathy glinting in his eyes. “wanna cum, princess? first you gotta tell me who you belong to.”

✰ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘 whines into your neck, his hips rutting against you and his lips press messily onto yours, skin flushed red as his hair clings to his sweaty forehead. he stares down at you, feeling pride swell in his chest as tears dribble down your cheeks, your arms wrapped around his neck as you cling to him. “more, more, jus’ one more,” he slurs, kissing down your jaw to your neck, feeling your walls flutter around his spent cock. he’s lost count of how many times he’s came—how many times you’ve creamed on his cock, but all he knows is he needs more. “g-gotta feel you,” he rasps, “me. ‘s all for me. you’re mine,” he rasps, pushing his cum back into your abused cunt, the mess between your legs satisfying him just a little too much. “too much,” you sniffle, “mikey, c-can’t—” but he cuts you off with a shush, pressing sweet kisses to your wet cheeks as he whimpers at the way you squeeze around him when he thrusts particularly rough against your sweet spot. “jus’ one more baby,” he pleads, a loud moan ripping from his throat, “you can give me one more right? gotta know you’re mine.”

✰ 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔 plants a hand firmly on the back of your head. his own head throws back as he groans, looking over to peer down at you through hooded eyes as you kiss the tip of his reddened tip. your hand wraps around his swollen cock as you stroke slowly, making his breath hitch before he lets out a shaky groan. “f-fuck, that’s it, angel,” he grunts, moaning lowly when your lips finally wrap around his length, tongue gliding along his thick vein. his jaw clenches as he thinks back to the men eyeing you from earlier, looking back down at you before a smirk tugs on his lips as he notices the tears collecting at your eyes when he thrusts into your mouth. he snaps his hips forward, making you take more of him, wishing they could see you on your knees before him as he uses you to get off. “you can take more, can’t you? ‘course you can,” he coos, hips rutting into you as his hand keeps your head in place, his breath growing erratic as he fucks into your mouth roughly. he grunts when your hand reaches to play with his balls, panting your name quietly as he nears his release. “atta girl, baby,” he grins, “so perfect for me, aren’t you? only me.”

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mitsuyeaah · 11 months

Text

study session.

— sanzu haruchiyo x f! reader

cw: nsfw (mdni), smut, fingering, sex toy (vibrator), swearing, pet names (darling, baby), sanzu being a lil’ shit

a/n: lovely nonnie has inspired me to write a lil drabble with sanzu since i am studying for my finals as well. thank u for this idea hehe <3 sorry in advance for any typos, i wrote this with tears in my eyes.

it was a rough night to say the least, you didn’t even notice the sun beginning to set under the horizon since your eyes were too focused on your notes before you. it was only then you realised how much time you’ve spent studying when your boyfriend made his presence known by kissing the crown of your head.

it all started innocently, really. a gentle exchange between the two of you—telling him how you’ve been very stressed and worried for your upcoming finals. of course, being the good boyfriend he was, he offered to take your mind off your worries for a bit.

now, as innocent as the offer was, your boyfriend’s fingers deep inside your wet cunt as he stood behind you was not what you initially had in mind. one knee was propped on the desk, resting above your notes as your hips pressed against the edge of your desk. the chair that you previously sat on was whisked away, somewhere in the room.

“ah, fuck! sanzu—ngh!” you breathlessly moaned as he added a third slender digit inside, your hands turning into fists against your immunology notes, causing the paper to crumple under your touch. sanzu peppered your nape with open-mouthed kisses, goosebumps forming at your skin.

“mmm, my darling has been diligently studying that i just had to treat her..” he sent vibrations down your spine as he spoke against your skin.

at this point, your study notes were long forgotten. the constant worry that plagued your mind of failing your finals disappeared, and the only thing in your pretty little head was how much pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. how delicious his fingers felt inside you. how the deep pit in your stomach bubbled at the sensation.

the next thing you knew, your cheek was pressed against your notes, and the crown of your head making contact with the edge of your laptop. both your wrists were pinned against your lower back by one of sanzu’s hand, while the other held your favourite vibrator against your puffy clit.

it was turned to the highest setting. little shit.

you didn’t even know your ears were ringing until it finally subsided and you could hear sanzu’s sly voice cutting through, “c’mon, baby, answer the question. how’re you going to prepare for your exam, hm?” you couldn’t see him but you knew he had a shit-eating grin plastered on his pretty face. as always.

you didn’t even hear his question because of the loud ringing in your ears. “aah! w-what..?” your voice came our quieter than you intended but it was loud enough for sanzu to hear above the buzzing of the sex toy.

“i said, describe antibody, IgM.” his cerulean eyes quickly scanned over the notes on your laptop screen before returning them to you. he tilted his head to the side, waiting for an answer.

opening your mouth to answer, a loud whine escaped your lips as sanzu pushed the vibrator past your wet folds. you closed your eyes shut, face contorting with pleasure as he started thrusting the device in and out. “haah! fuck! I-IgM antibody is the largest antibody molecule—ngh!”

sanzu absentmindedly leaned down to connect his clothed chest with your back to suck on your nape, waiting for you to continue. the mixed sensation of the vibrator inside you and sanzu sucking on your skin absolutely drove you crazy. the answer inside your head suddenly dissipated into thin air like smoke.

“shit.. this antibody is mostly confined to the—ah! to the.. to the blood and lymphatics since it cannot be transported across—hmph sanzu! it can’t be transported across the fucking placenta.” it took all your willpower to get all those words out, it didn’t help how your boyfriend picked up the pace of the vibrator.

tears rolled down to your notes as he brought the vibrator back to your clit, earning a loud shameless moan from you. you didn’t even care if the ink was going to be smudged from your tears, all you wanted was to reach your orgasm.

“good girl.” sanzu breathlessly chuckled against your skin, his free hand travelling down to your chest to squeeze and grope at your breast over the fabric of your shirt.

“what are the two major sites for establishment of immunological tolerance? tell me, baby or you won’t get to cum.. need to get you prepped for your exam.” your heart sank to your stomach at the mention of your orgasm denial. despite your lust-fogged brain, you tried to wrack your mind for a coherent answer but the only thing that came out your mouth were moans and incoherent sentences.

“aah! shit shit! i don’t fucking know! please, just let me cum, sanzuuu..” you opened your eyes, vision obstructed by tears as you craned your neck to try and meet his gaze. “oh? are you telling me you spent hours studying just for you to not answer the question? a pity.. looks like no orgasm for you then..”

you hastily shook your head against your desk, your notes rustling beneath every movement of your head. “no, no, no! please—ah! just let me.. let me think!” you shut your eyes, brows furrowing as you tried to concentrate on the answer, ignoring the familiar sensation that was making itself known.

you panted against your notes, mouth parted, “fuck! i’m so near” you didn’t mean for that to come out but it just did, and you never regretted anything as fast. “the answer, baby. or you’re not cumming.” sanzu clicked his tongue and pressed the vibrator harder onto your clit, earning another loud whine from you.

“c-central tolerance at the—ngh! the primary lymphoid organs! a-and—haah! peripheral tolerance at the secondary lymphoid organs. fuck!” your nails dug into your palms as you answered his question, trying your best not to cum right then and there.

sanzu grinned at your answer, “that’s right. m’baby is so smart, huh? now, why don’t you cum for me?” he didn’t have to tell you twice, you came before he even finished his sentence. a chain of profanities leaving your lips as your vision blurred, and ears ringing once again.

your legs shook from the intense pleasure, a fresh set of hot tears rolling down to pool at your notes. sanzu rode out your orgasm by pressing the vibrator even further onto your clit and whispering sweet praises against your ear, earning small whines from you as you cried out his name like a prayer.

you didn’t expect sanzu to take your worries away by giving you a mind blowing orgasm but you weren’t complaining. if anything, you’d definitely encourage him to accompany you whenever you studied because,

to say the least, study sessions with sanzu were much more interesting and fun.

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dlscenarios · 2 months

Text

Haze

bonten!Sanzu x Reader

MDNI

Sorry for the abrupt ending :( I've been sittin' on this for months & had no clue how to end it. I think I’m giving myself burnout, but I’m so happy with the first half so y’all deserve to see it.

Cw: DRUGS, Mention of mixing drugs with alcohol. DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME or else Sanzu will be upset (and u'll meet god).

The sun felt like it was burning your skin. You squinted your eyes as they tried to open, noticing your head was on someone's bare chest. You slowly lifted yourself up and looked down at the body under you, the scars and pink hair of Sanzu giving away his identity. He was still fast asleep and lightly snoring. You sigh and rolled onto your back. Your hand rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you stared at the ceiling.

Your mind felt fuzzy, but after a moment of racking through your memories, you pieced together what happened last night. Most of Bonten's higher-ups - aside from Mikey and Kakucho - liked to get together after work and have a drink. You accompanied them, of course. However, ever since the previous teenage delinquents fell from grace and turned to crime, Sanzu made it a habit to have some kind of pill on him at all times. The next thing you knew, Haru and you were clinging to each other and had seemingly gone home together. It didn't look like much happened after that, seeing as you were still fully clothed and Sanzu was only missing a shirt.

Groaning, you got out of bed and stumbled into the en-suite bathroom, running cold water in the sink to splash on your face. You slurped up a second handful before turning the faucet off and drying off. You sighed and surveyed your face in the mirror, leaning on the sink. You still looked tired and your hair could do with some brushing.

In the other room, Sanzu crossed his arm over his face, annoyed at the sun hitting him. He slowly blinked awake. The first thing he registered was that the other side of the bed looked like someone else had slept with him. He rolled onto his stomach and pressed the side of his face into the pillow.

His eyes moved to you as you walked back into the room. He smirked, "Hey~"

You nodded, "Sanzu." Sitting on the side of the bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and began to slip on your shoes.

The gangster whined, "Don't leave~ Last night was so fun!"

"I had a stupid lapse in judgement." You spat back, Haru rolling his eyes in response.

"You work with the scariest motherfuckers in Japan. That's more stupid."

He watched as you stood back up and ran your fingers through hair. You smoothed down your clothes and grabbed your phone once more, looking for someone to take you home.

Sanzu shifted onto his side and shot you an incredulous look. "The fuck do you think you're going?"

"Home."

Despite immediately feeling dizzy as he sat up, Sanzu slid closer to you. He stood on his knees as his hand gripped your wrist, slowly pulling it down to make you look at him. His bright eyes looked into yours.

"Stay."

You glared back at him, "I'm not staying, Sanzu. Last night shouldn't have happened."

"But it did." You swore his grip got a little tighter. "I liked being that close to you. Being this close to you."

"I'm not gonna get high with you every day just because you liked it."

"Not asking you to. Just want to be that close to you." He smirked, "You played with my hair. No one's touched me like that in decades. I loved it."

You lifted your brow in suspicion. "I'm surprised you remember that much considering you're almost always on something."

"I remember it all. No matter how many things I take, I remember everything. It felt so good. I wanna be touched like that every day. Only by you."

You tried to pull your arm from his grasp. "I really should go home-"

"No!" Sanzu's light eyes widened. "Don't leave."

"Sanzu-"

"At least let me make breakfast for you." He pleaded.

"Knowing you, you'd probably roofie it or something."

His brows furrowed in offense. "I'm not always on drugs, Y/N."

"You are at work."

"Only at work." He cut in, words sharp as knives. "I'm not always high."

You sighed and pursed your lips, realizing you wouldn't win this argument. "Fine, but I'm supervising you.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokrev #bonten #bonten sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #akashi haruchiyo #tokyo revengers haruchiyo sanzu #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers sanzu #tokrev sanzu #sanzu x you #tr sanzu #sanzu x y/n

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celabi · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 w/ Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu

— slightly suggestive and swearing. PART TWO

#🍃ー celabi ☆彡 #tokyo revenegers #Tokyo rev #tr #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tr x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #haruchiyo x reader #tokyo rev smau #Tokyo revengers smau #tr smau #tokyo revengers x reader fluff #tokyo revengers incorrect quotes

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hanayumi · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤-𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝

— bonten!sano manjirou x fem!reader x sanzu haruchiyo 🔞

part 2 of brittle to the bone || prev.

if mikey is harsh, imposing, unyielding, then haruchiyo is just that with playful charisma superimposed over cruelty.

wc. ~9k

tags/warnings noncon, predator/prey dynamics, yandere undertones, knifeplay, mild bloodplay, forced infidelity, self-harm, degradation, overstim, mind break, mentions of gunplay, minor character death(s)

notes he’s very mean

snapshot;

Soft. Soft.

Haruchiyo parrots the word in his mind. Almost as if within it holds the secrets to the universe — and that if he keeps saying it, keeps feeling the weight of this single featherlight syllable on his tongue, that it’ll give him a revelation of sorts.

Your skin looked soft and your hand was soft and he can’t help but wonder if every inch of you down to your bones is soft.

∗

Be good.

‘Be good’ — by which Mikey meant, you suppose, no speaking to others in the compound, no leaving the house, no stepping inside anywhere but the bedroom, bathroom, living room, and kitchen… all the places that you’ve been wandering in-between for years without ever going outside. Is there anything else?

Well, you can’t bother yourself to remember. It’s not like you can do anything in here that’ll piss him off anyway. The time you’ve had to spend alone has started to blur into an impalpable being — an amalgamation, of sorts — warping and slowing your perception of reality to a tenth of a millisecond whenever Mikey isn’t around to monopolise your attention.

…I’ll reward you like a good little bitch when I get back. Can you do that for me?

Don’t leave the penthouse. Don’t enter rooms you don’t know. Don’t speak to anyone other than Haruchiyo. It should be pretty simple. Yeah, you can definitely do that for him. You can be good. You can. You’ll show him.

(As long as Haruchiyo doesn’t kill you before you get a chance to.)

You close your eyes, an image of the man with roseate hair floating into your memory. His lilting voice, the rattling of his pills, the way he kissed your hand after introducing himself and the way he smirked when Mikey made his announcement. A prickling chill runs down your spine like cold water.

You clench a bundle of the sheets into your face, burrowing into the lingering scent of Mikey, and decide that you hate the way Haruchiyo speaks. In a slow, condescending drawl, smirk bared, revealing the carious fangs of a seasoned predator, the narrowed slits of his eyes scrutinising (for what, you have no idea) as if he thinks of your life as even more insignificant and disposable as the dirt between his shoes.

There’s another thing, too. Something that fills your little heart with enormous anxiety and forces you on simmering coals within his presence, even now when you’re all safe and sound in this room with its four white walls and thick, locked door.

You can read that grin like an open book.

He thinks that your relationship with his boss has an expiry date. That it’s only a matter of time before you’re disposed of, too. That, without question, you were only there as a form of stress relief, your sole purpose being to tend to his boss’ every need. An emotional outlet, of sorts.

(You hate it because you know he’s right.)

But you don’t tell him that, don’t want to offer him the satisfaction — instead you scamper from his gaze, always slipping out of a room just as he enters it, going as far as to strategically plan out your daily activities to ensure that you wouldn’t be catching any glint nor shadow of that vibrant pink.

And for the most part, it’s working. And even if it didn’t, he has a funny way of looking at everything and anything as if it were leagues beneath him, so much so that you find it easy to simply duck your head and deem yourself unworthy of staying in his presence any longer than you already have. It’s weird, how simple it is to evade him — how predictable, easy, like child’s play. When he has just about given you as much attention as one would to a stray twig obstructing a sidewalk.

So, just like every other nagging worry, you stuff Bonten’s-Number-Two-Sanzu-Haruchiyo away in a cabinet for safe-keeping.

Time without Mikey also means that you’ll at least get a bit more time to yourself (albeit a large portion of it would be spent calculating how to avoid the man he left in his place).

You’re using it wisely, you think — alternating between counting the grooves in the ceiling to toying with the strands of velvet rug in the middle of the too-spacious bedroom, to daydreaming until sprawling scenery of the outside-world blooms behind your eyelids… okay. So you haven’t been able to get anything truly productive done. So what? The word ‘productive’ feels alien in your mind — almost as if there’s something fundamentally cursed about its three syllables, as if it belonged in a realm unattainable to someone like you. You haven’t had to worry about being pro-duc-tive in years. It was always Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.

At some point, you think dismally, I’ll have to get up. But now is not the time. So you count, and count, until you feel your consciousness slipping away, and your eyelids droop, and you sink into a deep, dreamless sleep. Sleep that blunts the ache of isolation and the burning of your bruises, tip-toeing featherlight over your skin like a reminder of the person who left them.

(Mikey doesn’t leave sticky notes on the fridge telling you to remember to brush your teeth and comb your hair. Everything he gives you comes from himself: his flesh and bone, his pain, his heart, his bruises.)

When time meanders forward, and inevitably touches upon evening, and you stir from sleep feeling an unbearable feeling of emptiness in your stomach (almost as if a large cavity was drilled into your abdomen), you shake the drowsiness away starting to feel an oncoming panic that Haruchiyo somewhere somehow found a way to sneak something into your breakfa— oh. That’s right.

You didn’t even have breakfast.

Your gut howls in agony. Reluctantly, you unwrap the self-made cocoon of blankets, preparing the mental artillery required to slip out the bedroom.

Haruchiyo seems to be missing from the kitchen, which is a good thing, a pleasant thing — though you aren’t stupid to assume that he is shirking his duties as your ‘guardian’. Living in a sprawling penthouse with just two people, minus the seclusion, leaves you enjoying an overwhelming sense of privacy most of the time. But now? Now it feels like there’s bear traps under every tile in the floor, shuriken blades concealing themselves behind every groove in the ceiling (there were about 200 that you counted before dozing off).

It takes a few furtive glances down the corridor and you (fruitlessly) keep a knife within arm’s reach (‘I don’t know why I’m doing this it’s not like I’m even capable of wielding a knife’), but you get to work quickly, preparing a decent meal the only way you know how. The purple blemishes lining the expanse of your neck and thighs still throb in protest when you move, although now it’s become a dull, persistent, guileless ache. You’re all alone, since it appears that your housekeeper is nowhere to be found — got scared away, maybe?

Come to think of it, staff don’t stay for very long around the Bonten building (either that or the numbers are endless; every day you see a new face), and you were always too busy to pay attention to anything but the hulking man demanding your attention.

Even so, something about that particular woman made the word ‘bold’ pop up in your mind in thick, underlined letters.

She’s been around for a few weeks now, looking to be about the same age as you (maybe a little older?), and always wore her black hair pinned back neatly, revealing youthful and bright eyes. She isn’t permitted to stay long — no longer than when she finishes up cleaning and cooking food that’ll last the next few days — and neither of you know each other’s names. Though she did offer you the most sympathetic of smiles when the smell of good food left you poking your head into the kitchen. You think of it sometimes, when you’re lying in bed sleepless.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done this on my own, you frown, wiping sweat from your brow. Not that you haven’t cooked before, you have — you just can’t remember when. Your fingers curl feebly around the vegetable peeler, strips of potato skin falling onto the cutting board like ribbons. How long has it been, since you’ve put so much care into something other than Mikey? Again, you’re reminded of how much of your time that he eats up on the regular, like a blackhole both in his presence and absence; like a mechanical heart that your empty cavity of a ribcage can’t pump blood without. The thought alone should petrify you.

Don’t think about that.

There you go again, fretting over things that can’t be fretted about. You stubbornly follow the woman’s phantom movements from what little you gleaned from watching her from afar, guiding your hands over a boiling stove. The sizzles generating at the bottom of the metal pot reminds you of firecrackers. If your memory serves you well, there should be extra seasoning in the top cabinet. And you have to remember to work fast, too, just in case Haruchiyo decides to stick his head out in curiosity.

One by one, along with those forbidden thoughts, the various base ingredients are banished into the pot. Minutes later, you taste the thick broth with a spoon and damn, you realise, this actually tastes kind of good. This actually feels kind of good.

Yeah… yeah no, maybe you’re starting to get the hang of it. Maybe it’ll actually turn out okay after all — the next two days, your isolation, this makeshift stew. Not as good as the woman’s, but you reckon she’d give you a pass for trying. It’s only been a few days tops, but you cave and sigh; you kinda miss her presence. It gave you something to mull over amidst constant chao—

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your blood freezes.

At the doorway, Haruchiyo looks dishevelled, pissed, a single olive eye twitching. Your legs caramelise into a thick hardness, rooting you to the ground. The pot continues to sizzle above the flame. Since when did he…

“C-cooking?” you begin warily, glancing for the nearest exit, trying to keep an impervious look on your face even though every second that slips by a silent fear creeps up on you like a chokehold. You flinch as he stalks closer with the air of a forensic inspector, looking over the mess that is the kitchen, the wildly strewn pots and pans and utensils — all because you panicked and couldn’t find the ones you were looking for.

(Around the counter? No—that will take too much time. What if you shoved your way past him? No, god no—are you stupid? He’d catch you immediately—)

“You’re dumber than I thought,” he snarls, his mouth donning that prized scowl, leaning forward before you can react and jabbing a finger at the cutting board. “You don’t even know how to handle a fucking knife?”

“Wha—huh?”

You blink; the pellets of onion, potato and carrot lie limply on the scuffed wood. Misshapen little pieces, some thick and some way too thin. Your hands lie frozen in time, one grasping at a chunk of orange and the other gradually growing slick around the knife.

He clicks his tongue in disdain.

“At this rate, you’re going to kill yourself before I do.” Haruchiyo and the long tendons of his fingers pry the weighted blade out of the comfort of your hands. Insistently, in a way that tells you he’s mad—oh god he’s mad— but strikingly, without a touch of malice. Is he mad? Is he sober? He won’t turn it—the knife—on you—right? Your breath hitches.

“Mikey would maim me to a pulp if you succeeded in that little stunt,” he arches a brow, as if using Mikey’s name in such a manner left a bitter taste in his mouth. For some reason, blood rushes to your ears as you watch the man in an unbuttoned suit hunch over the cutting board. You give him space to examine the ingredients, biting your tongue in shame. “If you wanted food you could’ve just said so.”

You could’ve just said so.

Something doesn’t feel quite right about his words, but you’re too relieved to dwell on it. You are graced with a sliver of respite, a moment’s peace; at least you know Haruchiyo has no intentions of killing you. He can’t. Probably.

The silky-smooth incisions he makes on the vegetables and meat send a tremor down your spine, each chop bouncing around in your eardrums. He’s helping you and yet, you almost feel bad for wanting to run. You don’t want to know where he learnt to wield a blade like a razorlike extension of his fingers.

“You know a lot,” you whisper, biting your lip afterwards, minutes in when the aimless hovering becomes too much to bear. What the hell are you doing, trying to make small talk?

“I know enough,” he shoots back, long lashes fluttering like large silver fans as he turns around to squint at you. He likes to look at you as if you were some ancient vase excavated from the earth, you realise. Or like a fossil. As if you originated from a completely different time from him.

Nothing much of a conversation passes between the two of you after that; you awkwardly go through the motions, trying your best to stay away. He mutters some weird cantation under his breath as he sections off the potatoes from the carrots, moves them over to a plate as he readies the meat.

It’s almost faelike, how systematic of a man he is. How quick he is to catch on, requiring minimal instructions from you, despite seeming like a person of inferior culinary calibre.

When he’s done, Haruchiyo pats his hands on his thighs, breathing a sigh. His gaze mulls over the piping stew still bubbling with the newly-added ingredients, before plucking itself away and landing on the door to the study just a distance from the kitchen (his hiding place; his deep cavernous den). Just before he saunters to the room, twisting a hand on the door knob, he says, “I don’t cook, so don’t expect me to.”

(You didn’t.)

It was a brief encounter.

In the early dusk, long after your meal, you hear him crawl out of the study like an emerging creature of the night, and when you’re halfway through turning over a page in a novel (a dusty old one that you found hiding inside the drawers of the bedside table) you hear the sound of cutlery scraping against ceramic, echoing from where the kitchen must be.

It’s strange, the gladness that washes over you — you hadn’t really expected him to react, let alone try your cooking. Come to think of it, you weren’t even sure that he ate in the first place. (He said he doesn’t cook, but he knows the ‘correct’ way to use a knife? Odd.) You frown, none of the words on the page construing a decipherable meaning to you.

Maybe, just maybe, sharing the same space with Haruchiyo won’t be so bad after all (now that you know he eats and sleeps like a human being, is normal-functioning in most aspects of his physical body).

With this thought in mind, you carry on business as usual in your small corner of the house, lightly pondering which part of Japan Mikey has found himself embroiled in.

At nightfall, your ears unwillingly pick up loud thuds down the hallway, and you triple-check that the door is locked before climbing into the soft covers, stifling a shiver. Regardless of whether he’s been oddly tame or not, it’ll take a while to get used to this — the strange, unexplainable things that go bump in the night.

The bed… feels emptier. Desolate. Something feels odd, like the calm before the storm. It’s just your imagination. You close your eyes, falling asleep imagining Mikey’s arm around your hip. Ironically, you can’t seem to sleep well without him.

∗

What is this?

He’s felt like this before, of that he’s certain. A longass time ago. Judging from the huge blip in his memory when Haruchiyo tries to recall, it must’ve been eons since then. Eons and eons and then some, back when inactive volcanoes still spat real, smouldering lava — he’s sure it’s been that long.

It’s curious, and it amazes him more than it disgusts him. He should be disgusted, the logical part of his brain adds; he should have just minded his business and carried on as usual. He should have let you cut yourself in that dangerous manner (what’s a tiny cut going to do, add another notch to the scar-ridden pole?) — let you experience what it’s like to live life with an impish brain.

He wasn’t intending to interrupt. Ten, fifteen minutes must’ve ticked by, with him standing there in silence (you are quite the careless one). He couldn’t push down the onslaught of annoyance at the way you bent over backwards to reach the top shelf — are you trying to make his job difficult on purpose? Haruchiyo is a lawless beast, sure, but even beasts have their master’s orders to abide by, along with a special place in hell for those who don’t obey orders. Maybe that was your goal — maybe you wanted him gone. Maybe deep down you’re a spy sent to eliminate Bonten from the inside.

That is how he almost relished in pure excitement, at the promise of bloodshed regardless of how minor.

And yet, and yet, when he saw the flat silver falling just millimeters short of slicing into your soft digits, something compelled him to step in. (To help? Or to finish the job? No, he knows why. It was to chase this surreal, abstract feeling.)

Soft. Soft.

Your skin looked soft and your hand was soft and he can’t help but wonder if every inch of you down to your bones is soft.

He wonders how you had the time to teach yourself how to cook. Or if you’d already known before you were brought here (in any case you didn’t look very experienced). If the flavourful explosion in his mouth attests to his boss’ favourite dish. Comfort food, his brain supplies. What is that? He never understood the little nuances that people sprinkled in their vocabulary, though the terms lingered in his head like pesky flies. (If it’s shit, it’s just shit, right?)

He’d been so used to the staleness served at dilapidated bars that he’d forgotten almost completely what it means to have a proper meal. If it wasn’t stale or nasty it was too fancy for him to stuff down his throat — he has always been a picky eater, wanted things to be just right, but somehow the smell alone was enough to entice him out of the study.

And when he took the first bite, something strange happened. A feeling akin to warmth flooded his veins. (It’s amazing, isn’t it? It was like poison. His head started spinning and his mind morphed into a jumbled maze of thoughts; so deeply entrenched in its twists and turns he was, left palm slowly running across hedged walls, groping for an exit. Or trying to find whatever treasure, salvation, lied in the middle.) It never ever struck Haruchiyo that you might’ve snuck something extra into the food to incite this wild reaction in him. No— you’re too innocent for that. Kind. Warm. Trusting. Soft…

Not once did you knock on the door. Not that he expected you to. Not that he wanted you to. (You’re stupid but not that stupid.)

He must’ve been in there for hours, oscillating between the fabric of time and space, consciousness and unconsciousness blurring into one.

Flashes — funny things, like trusting someone, like cutting his fingers by accident as a kid, sitting outside the doctor’s office (“What are they going to do to me?” a young boy with flaxen hair whispered. “They will put you in stitches. It will not hurt. Just a few pricks, nothing more,” someone whispered back… who?) — materialise before his consciousness often. Uninvited. Unwarranted.

When he is awake they come to him like blessings, like offerings to a long-forgotten deity. When he is asleep they take on the sparkle and sheen of a fairytale — so blurry and blinding that he could never hope to brush his fingertips across such an ethereal feeling in his mortal life.

Because a common thread was that these recollections (or fairytales, or glimpses into the ether, or as he personally likes to call them, fever dreams) never lasted long.

The feeling always, always chose to leave last — that silent poking and prodding going on without his consent, shady dealings happening at the edges of his conscience that scream at him to mourn for a past innocence, something that he has no chance of ever recovering. Memory, in this way, comes like slippery eels in the palm of his hand: if he’s lucky, he’ll catch one. If he isn’t, oh well.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, plastering his spine to the back of chair in hopes of relieving the pain throbbing behind his eyelids. Defeat tastes acrid, bitter, on Haruchiyo’s tongue; it’s no use fighting the waves of agony strobing like a heat wave.

His arm adeptly loses feeling and the metal spoon crashes down onto the plate. It’s empty now, and his stomach is somewhat filled. Yet this shitty-ass migraine chooses to latch onto his brain like a leech. God. Can’t you just—I don’t know—let me off? This one, goddamn time, Haruchiyo curses. He’s pissed. He’s sure he left an extra stockpile of that good stuff somewhere…

Old habits die hard, but it’s difficult to dwell on it when all he can feel is gratefulness for his own foresight. Mikey finds ways to avoid him a lot when he doesn’t feel like entertaining his highs, kinda like throwing a bone to stave off a dog’s abundant energy. But for the most part, he lets Haruchiyo do his own thing — lets him chew on the proverbial bone to his heart’s desire. Thus, once again, Haruchiyo finds himself with a fistful of pills. (It’s the only way he knows to curb the pain.)

He’d really meant to pounce on you by now, he thinks, as he swallows another. Gulp. He meant to already sink his claws into your neck, the same way Mikey does. Gulp.

But he can’t. Right now he can’t even stand straight his head hurts so bad. As if something from within him wanted to turn his body inside out, displaying his innards.

And, fuck, when the itch resurfaces again like an old friend, there’s little he can do to stop it. (When has he ever been the type to argue with instinct, after all? If anything… he is a slave to it. It’s understandable. Mikey’ll forgive him. He’s too used to running free, veins pulsing at the first whiff of prey. It doesn’t do anyone good to cage a wild animal.)

Haruchiyo and his dimmed gemstone eyes, clouded over with a drug-filled haze — a comfortable, fitted collar around his neck and the leash held firmly within his grasp. A slave. A weapon to his own instinct. Nature proclaims that it’s law for predators to hunt prey. How many girls has he killed? How many that look like you and how many just to satisfy this instinct of purging prey.

Haruchiyo has lost count at this point. Everything blurs and twists into one: pill-shaped candy, the boy with pale hair, the warmth of the food that felt like a paperweight on his tongue… you clutching the tip of your finger, thick blood gushing out. (The ‘what-if’ that would’ve happened if he hadn’t interfered.)

Deeper and deeper, he starts to feel dizzy, as if he were plummeting down a rabbit hole. He stumbles from the kitchen and into the living room, heads towards the noise that made his ears prick up like a predator groping for blood. Thirst. He’s unbearably thirsty.

It’s not you— is that you? He goes rigid; blinks away hysteria. It’s you.

All he can think of is you— all he can think is, Mikey will forgive him.

∗

At an abandoned dock two cities away a figure sits patiently, embroiled in a decrepit darkness. Moonlight creeps across his hunched back like vines over a wall. Dark bangs fall messily across his face with some strands still matted in a sticky substance. Sweat, or blood. Mikey scrunches up his nose. If you were here, he wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning himself up.

But you aren’t. And the thought is enough to wind a bunch of thorns around his chest.

The cylindrical shape feels strange as heck against the insides of his mouth. He’s poked his tongue through the barrel a few times before, out of pure curiosity, like a cat toying with a ball of yarn trapped in its mitts. But the taste? Well, it’s just as he expected it to be — bland. Flavourless. Unappealing. Just as unappealing as life without you.

(The fuck? Takeomi called me all the way here just to deal with this?)

Then again, he did take a longer time than usual to exterminate the local pest populace. Mikey doesn’t know if this particular thorn in his side is exceptionally formidable, or if he is exceptionally off his game today. (Huh — no, that can’t be it. It’s not as if he saw hostile figures blurring into two then three then four like a cheap ninja trick, even as he struck them down unfazed; not as if, after the tenth one the blood got too heavy for him to focus, and everywhere he turned, intrusive images of your skin plagued his psyche like a disease… no, that can’t be it.)

(…Right? Right. No way.)

He’s miserable. He wants to go home. He wants to hold you and he wants to make you taste the barrel of the gun as he is now — make you run your tongue along its concave shape and ask if you can taste the gunmetal on your teeth and call you pathetic when you start trembling like you always do. Would you let him? (Of course you would. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.) You are obedient, Mikey likes that about you, and you’re always willing to go along with his whims — though, he frowns, it’s mostly because you’re scared. Probably.

Somewhere in the dark a rat squeaks, scuttles into a crack, leaving the timid cry resonating within jagged walls. It reminds him of yo— he throws his head back and gives a long, hard groan, one that spirals in the stillness.

Okay that’s it. He clutches his head. I’m getting out of here.

“Oi. Come, Senju,” he calls monotonously, not waiting up before hopping down, setting his course deeper towards the direction of darkness. A barely audible pair of footsteps follow close behind. But Mikey’s thoughts are occupied; he thinks about the flat surface of the gun and what colour it’d make your skin turn, and he thinks about Haruchiyo sitting faithfully in the penthouse, doing his job. (He’s a little worried, and that’s an understatement.)

Mikey sighs, nose breathing in the musty, oppressive smell of the sea.

One more day and he’ll be back where he was with you; one more day and he’ll be home. But at the very least, he thinks, this little business venture has turned out to be the tiniest bit amusing. His first time exploring Japan in months and he’s already got himself a souvenir to take home.

∗

It’s… raining.

A fine, feathery, bountiful rain that’s only noticeable from ripples of water cascading soundlessly on the full-length window, and floating umbrellas shielding commuters from the downpour hundreds and hundreds of floors below.

From your bird’s-eye view, they all but resemble dewdrops of microscopic colour, so far away that you can barely tell they’re alive. You press your palm flat against the glass, feeling the heat of your own skin absorb the cool surface, feeling the tiny vibration brought forth by the morning raindrops on the other side.

How long has it been? Since you’ve been on that other side?

A backdrop of grey paints the city. A familiar view, but one that you’ve never quite gotten used to. It’s quiet. Way too quiet, at that.

Where is Haruchiyo?

The chill spreads to the tip of your toes when they meet the marbled flooring. You slip off the couch, contemplating the merit in searching for a man you would otherwise do triple somersaults to avoid. Is this a good idea? You chew on your lip. It’s not. But where is he?

You’ve been feeling uneasy for the whole morning. Earlier there’d been a crash (multiple) coming from the hallway, and besides making you drop your book it also brought with it a nauseating wave of anxiety. Not that you expected Haruchiyo to be quiet at all times, goodness no (last night was a test of your patience), but there was a certain instinct imbued into you that made the hairs on your forearms stand on end whenever things were a hint out of the ordinary.

A certain intuition that came part and parcel with living with dangerous, scheming people.

Why is he grunting like that?

(That was a grunt, right? No… no, it definitely was.)

There was the sound of something sharp, like metal, grating against the floor — what was that? You scurry over to press your ear to the door, listening hard for anomalies, trying to conjure up hypotheses in your brain that don’t equal to Haruchiyo throwing a messy fit or getting ready to jump you or — well, kill you.

A clunk. Several thumps. A knife, maybe? Or he could be moving furniture, or, or—he could be practicing with his rumoured katana (you’ve never seen it but heard people talk about it in hushed whispers) — there’s no way to know for sure. All these unidentified sounds send seismic fear rippling through you.

With Mikey there was no need to question anything, because it was only a matter of time until you found out. But now that you’re alone — alone and defenceless and the most vulnerable you’ve ever been since you were fresh out the womb — it strikes a waning courage in your steps as you venture into the unknown, sweaty palms encircling the cool metal door knob, trying your hardest to stifle the click it makes when it unlocks.

Slowly, you tiptoe over to the source of the sound. Because it couldn’t hurt to just take a peek. Right? Just to check in. Just to be safe. Just to make sure he isn’t putting funny stuff inside your cupboards.

And. Well. If you were being honest, being Mikey’s little pet must’ve changed you a lot.

Complacency that thickened your skin, artificial layers of cosmetics over baby-smooth doll fabric. The false sense of protection under Mikey’s invisible iron fist comes with its own, hefty price. It must have gotten to you somehow. It must have done something to build up that liquid courage in your veins, in its own twisted way, surely, because—because no sooner than when you poke your head through the doorway into the living room do you see it.

See them.

You stare at the pile of grisly red organs splattering the cold hard floor; stare at death itself.

And, on top of it, as if crowned the victor, no one but Haruchiyo hunches leisurely over the grisly mound of flesh. Cleaning the mess behind his fingertips with his tongue. Eyeing his handiwork. The glinting edge of the tiny scalpel in his hand still dripping with scarlet, sharp edge pointed towards god knows what’s left of that person ohgod—

Your gut drops to the floor in horror. That uniform. That’s her. That’s the woman. Shit—fuck. What was once a sweet young woman is now a mangled corpse by the hands of Haruchiyo. Something… something is terribly wrong. She doesn’t look like she’s been dead for minutes. No, her eyes are far too cold. Like gaping holes. There is blood from her mouth, no, there is blood everywhere —

Haruchiyo hums, his rosier-than-cotton-candy hair dip-dyed in scarlet. Drip, drip. “Looks like… ah, I’ve roused the attention of our reclusive little rabbit.”

It’s the same man who’d grasped your hand in a courteous gesture just the day before, who’d saved you from slicing your fingers, the same goddamn murderer who’s just got his hands on the only person in years to address you like a regular human being. Idiot. You’ve done it this time. You’re a fucking dumbass. He’s a murderer, murderer — he’s going to kill you.

You’re next.

“What’s wrong, little bunny?” His grin only widens at your stupor, your slow, petrified jaw hanging agape. “You look scared. Do I make you feel scared?”

Your legs won’t budge; you whimper.

Run. Runrunrun — your body is screaming at you, imploring you to hurry the fuck up and run for your goddamn life, but you don’t. Pleas fall on deaf ears. Your body is caught in a bear trap, forcing you to take in the gruesome scene before you. There is so, so much blood. More than you’ve ever seen in your life. And all of it, all of it, is hers.

Just the other day she greeted you with her usual warm smile. Just the other day she was a living, breathing human, who ate and slept and radiated heat.

“Your face tells me you want to run,” he trills, eyes narrowing into slits. “Gonna run away?”

His tone is shrill as a sharpened blade, deranged, with every word mounting into maniacal glee. “Run with your little tail tucked between your cute thighs, back to your big, strong Mikey?”

Bloodshot and unfocused eyes zero in on your face and his body convulses like a zombie erecting from the dead, joints creaking like bars of scaffold. Slowly, assuredly, he rises to one knee, he points the scalpel at his own collarbone, and wait, wait, why is he—

“Look here, little bunny,” he coos, a big wide smile twisting the scars on his mouth; his wrist twitches, yanks, the blade following suit, dipping obediently into his own flesh. His own skin. His own blood that leaks pure sparkling scarlet from a thin crevice.

A scream tears through the room, one you can only feel is yours from the vibrations ringing in your hollow throat — he doesn’t wince. Sheer horror sends your body flying back, hands clasped tight in front of your face to shield you from the deep dark red. This is a nightmare. This can’t be real. Red is matted to pink strands of hair, red is glittering across his mouth like the snout of a beast, red is slowly advancing across the carpet. Wake up. You tremble, whimper. This is bad this is bad this is bad.

A cackle rips into the air, one with a chilling, blood-curdling echo bouncing off the walls, and no sooner than when he takes a step forward does the impenetrable cement in your veins crack.

Fight or flight.

You turn and bolt, feeling the weight of your numb appendages carrying you as far as possible, away from that—that sickening blood, that red crawling ever so closely towards you like hot, molten lava—

You race, stumble, dive into Mikey’s room (Idiot! Mikey isn’t even here! The exit — you have to get to the exit!), managing to grab a spare key off the counter before fleeing like a bat out of hell towards the front door, salvation, the only way out.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”

But then your back’s hitting the wall as you scramble to flee, jolts of the impact swelling up your spine as you hurtle into a dodge when Haruchiyo lunges, bloodied fingertips snatching your wrist and pulling pulling yanking, until the keys crash to the ground with a deafening clatter, until you’ve been sucked into the floor with a scream clawing at your throat, until you’re submerged limb by limb into that deep deep red that you hate.

“NO no no no no, letmego, letmeg—”

“Shh, shh!”

The cool tip of the blade drags along your cheek, thinly scraping against the surface, slicing into half the wet tracks that tears have left on your face so that slivered carmine wells up through the broken skin. His body has no right being this warm, pressed up against you, your knees and arms already going slick with blood. It’s over. He’s caught you.

Your eyes stay screwed shut amidst the barrage of hot tears bursting behind your eyelids. He has you pinned down for good, you realise, a strained whimper fighting its way in the back of your throat. There is no escape. The pain is real. You can feel the slim thread of blood rolling down your cheek, mixing with the tears — only for him to lean closer, lapping up the traces of it with a satisfied chuckle.

His saliva leaves a slimy, wet sensation on your skin. It’s the worst feeling you’ve ever felt in your life.

“Please… I won’t tell anyone… I won’t tell Mikey— please, just let me go…”

“Ah ah ah.” The man — Sanzu Haruchiyo — hushes you again, a finger on your lip, his shuddering breath fanning erratically on your face, his voice fading into yet another hysterical chuckle. But it’s deep, breathy, and taunting, thrumming loudly in his chest, and sending a tremor through your very soul. “I think you’re forgetting a teensy, tiny fact, little bunny— Mikey’s not here.”

Your nose fills with iron when he is this close. Haruchiyo’s eyes — those bulging, green masses of insanity — shift and convulse as if you were faced with the mouth of an abyss. His grip on your wrists tightens to an agonising degree the more you plead and squirm, leaving you with no choice but to hold your breath, hoping desperately that someone will come to your rescue.

Where is Mikey?

You’re going to die here. You’re going to die here… and there’s nothing you can do about it. Pushed up against this psycho killer, who’s just murdered a person innocent of all crime, an outsider who shouldn’t even have been here. Is this how you find closure? From someone other than Mikey?

Manjiro… the thought is enough to shoot a terrible pain in your heart, something unwarranted like denial, like indescribable terror, like—like regret.

I never told him I love him.

Twin dilated pupils absorb the sight of your writhing, suffering form, shuddering in their sockets from unmatched euphoria.

“Why don’t we play a little?”

∗

Truth be told, Haruchiyo doesn’t know what time of day it is, what day it is, and all he remembers is feeling fatigued with an indescribable, insatiable hunger. He thinks he’s never felt so dissatisfied in his entire life.

But this… this is nothing short of a feast, isn’t it?

“You…” he begins, seething through his ultra-wide grin. “You’re a huge slut!”

His hands, not knowing where to touch, land greedily on every inch of your traitorous skin. Groping, taking, as if the gates to heaven inexplicably opened; a creature of hell, he is — a pitch-black entity descending upon a fine-feathered angel. He can’t stop himself, not when you’re so helpless to fend him off.

“If I had known… that you would be going around getting wet at every man touching your little pussy like this…” He bites back a laugh, the scarred edges of his mouth contorting.

You look confused — terrified, but mainly confused. And scared as to why he hasn’t ripped apart your insides yet and god you’re fucking delicious. Your nightdress has long been torn to shreds. Blood — not yours — is splattered everywhere on the marble flooring. Haruchiyo’s obscene groans come like second nature at this point. It’s good, it’s too good — your cries, your shivering, your scent, the way that he can taste how salty your tears are and hear the wetness gathering at his fingers.

“You’re a damned whore, aren’t you?”

You look stunned, stupefied, as if your little brain can’t comprehend what Haruchiyo wants to do to you, as if the squelching noises coming from between your thighs are a mechanism separate to your conscious body — as if they don’t tell him all he needs to know.

“S-stop,” you snivel, wrists straining in his grip, though he thinks it couldn’t possibly hurt from the way you can’t help your half-moans, so delicate and frantic, flitting about in his ears like a pair of small butterfly wings. “Stop, please, a-ah, don’t touch me there—”

“Here? Oh, but what if I want to?”

Frankly, this is the most fun that he’s had in ages — your kitten-like mewls and crystalline tears, soft hips twisting fruitlessly and the friction only serving to make his blood rush south, adrenaline sizzling in his veins even more so than when he was in the midst of mutilating that dumb placeholder, that fake…

“You feel so nice and soft inside, little bunny.”

Haruchiyo shoves his fingers past the lips of your cute slit, prodding and poking like it’s his first time touching a virgin. Warm, tender, and suckling on him like a fawn to its mother’s breast… the gentle clasp of your pussy against his fingers feels like nothing short of heaven. God almighty, no wonder Mikey couldn’t keep his hands off of you. His cock becomes erect, the tip becoming sensitive as it strains against precum-soaked fabric.

He watches you squirm, watches as your tits heave with every breath you take. For the first time Haruchiyo is close to you, closer than ever before, to the point where if he brandished the scalpel now there’s no telling whether he’ll lose control and gouge your pretty eyeballs out in a fit of blind lust. Just like he did to so many others before you — just like those other porcelain, fragile, counterfeit dolls. (Except there’s really nothing that comes so close to perfection as the real thing.)

“What do you think is stopping me from killing you, hm?”

He poses this question in the midst of circling your shining pearl, bringing you closer and closer to climax, coaxing panicked moans out of you as if the realisation just hit you that maybe he will rip apart your insides after all.

Then, when you whine out instead of replying, Haruchiyo pauses, pressing his weight against your soft body for good measure, keening at your smell. He sighs—

“It’s because torturing you fucking turns me on.”

You used to smell like roses — like Mikey. But the you in this moment smells like sex, sweat, and potent iron, blood from his fresh killing and blood from his own flesh and bone; he has never felt such uncontrollable desire in his life. This is it, he thinks, this is the treasure waiting for him at the end of the maze.

His lips latch on and suckle on your exposed nipple, tongue circling and biting and lapping hard until it draws cries of pain. His face returns to your neck, a slimy tongue sticking out and coating you with saliva, feeling himself quiver with desire when your entire body convulses. His hard length grinds against your inner thigh like a mad dog, eager to insert itself into your warm and inviting hole.

But not yet. Just a little more.

He releases your wrists. Sharp nails latch themselves onto your scalp, straining against the roots of your hair to tug you eye-to-eye with his gaze. People like to say that Haruchiyo gets a spine-chilling, deranged gleam in his eyes when he’s in the middle of torturing someone — what do you see this time?

A monster? The devil himself? Or something more divine? Otherworldly? Something like a god?

His teeth sink into his bottom lip; not bad, he credits his brain, eyeing the tremble of your lip and the way tears cascade down your cheeks and jaw and drip onto your breasts, he might just crave to make you worship him. More than anyone else. More than his King; make you become his own private devotee.

“Does Mikey also do this?” Haruchiyo’s gravelly voice whispers filthy vice in your ear. “Does he? Tell me.”

Your back hits the floor. He sticks another finger, two, then three, inside your cunt, wriggling and feeling for the one spot that makes your toes curl and your back arch. Your non-stop whining, your incoherency, your lack of capacity for full sentences, all of it is starting to unravel his control — spilling out like a spool of thread underwater, dispersing never to be reeled in again.

“Tell. Me.”

“N-no!” you rasp, hips quaking.

“Liar,” he smiles. You’re a liar. You’re a filthy liar. He saw you. “What does he do to your little clit, huh? Rub, rub. Oh, you feel so soft and slippery here.”

“Stop, please, a-ah! It’s too much, it’s too much…”

“It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay,” he is quick to comfort, fingers speeding up, abusing your tiny nub, as if his ears were blotting out your frantic cries and tearful struggle. So, so sensitive. He almost feels like you’ll break. “Cum all you want. Again and again. We’ve got all day.”

He attaches his lips like a parasite to your cheek, licking at the small cut, sucking every drop of blood that leaks out, all while his fingertips never cease their momentum. You resist and jerk away from his face, only for him to wrench your jaw tightly in place.

“No, I don’t want to cum, I don’t—” You struggle like a rabbit with its hind legs bound, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in a feeble effort to mute your cries of pleasure. “I-I’m gonna—”

You cum without warning; a spray of liquid pools at your entrance, your thighs spasming under him as if charged with electricity. He coos as if to cheer you on. Fuuuck. He’s not done. There’s no way. Droplets of your juices taste like dews on his tongue; so much he wants to do, but he only has two hands.

As you reel, incapacitated with the afterglow of your orgasm, his palm lets go of your face to wrap around the flushed tip of his cock, giving a few sharp pumps, imagining what it feels like to be buried in your warmth. Well, he won’t have to imagine much longer.

“So pretty, you’d put every other girl to shame,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and another to your lips, silencing your whimpers. “I hated you, god, but turns out you’re good for at least one thing.”

“Let me… let me go…”

“Nah. But did it feel good?” He wants to break you. He wants to see you drowning in so much pleasure that you collapse and black out and crave nothing but his cock.

Your face scrunches up. You’re looking at him, he thinks. Though your expression looks weird, and you’ve stopped struggling.

“Mikey… Mikey’s gonna… he’s gonna be so mad,” you start to hiccup, tears dripping silently onto the marble, bottom lip trembling. Haruchiyo goes still, watching you cry at a loss for words.

He’s confused.

Mikey? Really? At a time like this? And he sees it again. That blatant softness that filters over your eyes — that ickiness. You’re so in love with his King that it’s pathetic.

It hadn’t been obvious before, but it is now. It’s thickening the skin between your heart and the outside world: it’s still there, the veins permeating the layer of visibility just barely, but the pulsing is faint.

And he sneers. Who do you think you are?

“You came because you’re a disloyal whore and you know it. Looks like you didn’t really love him after all, huh?”

At his words, you let out a hurt-filled gasp, as if they made their way into your heart and deposited lashes of agony there. Your mouth hangs open with tears still streaking down your face. The sight makes him want to coo at you.

“Look — you’re all messy and slick down here.”

Before you can tell him to stop, his fingernail scratches your abused clit, hard and fast as if trying to coax another orgasm out of you. Just one more. You can endure it, right? He’s watched Mikey do worse to you. He’s watched Mikey splay your legs open at his mercy and threaten to let every man in the room have their way with you.

Your body thrashes in retaliation but it’s no match for Haruchiyo’s strength, helpless to fight back as he pushes you further and further until you splutter and give a keening cry.

“What would Mikey think if he saw you like this?” he laughs, tuning out your pleas to slow down. “He’d fucking kill you.”

Another spray of your juices — another sharp scream of pleasure. By the third, fourth, your body starts trembling in overstimulation.

“I’m going to make you cum, again and again. Until you regret ever coming here. Make you regret trying to tempt my King.”

Haruchiyo mindlessly nibbles at your ear, before brutish hands reach down to force your legs wider. It’s about time, isn’t it? His cock throbs painfully at the wait.

“No, no, no… you can’t—”

He ignores you, rearranging his hips so they align with yours, gripping your abdomen like a vice as if trying to bruise. More, more, more. All his filthy fantasies start to spill out of the crevices in his brain. All he can do is watch the lavish black rush out in an endless downpour, and he, wrought with an incurable thirst, helps himself to your body, spellbound by the adrenaline you incite in him and the softness and warmth that you—

Ouch. He feels a prick.

From his shoulder, a tiny cut. A warm drop of blood beads at the broken skin. Ah. you’ve got your puny, trembling fingers on the handle of the scalpel.

How clever. A laugh bubbles from his throat.

“Oh, little bunny. Are you sure you want to do that?”

His hand removes itself from your body, snatching the blade out of your grip. You panic and try to retrieve it, but in your moment of desperation he chuckles and slides his cock in, stuffing you with inches of his length at one go, stretching you out like a cushy sleeve.

You yelp, foal legs kicking at air. Haruchiyo takes the time to tuck the blade away.

“Stupid, stupid,” he clicks his tongue as you wail in defeat, tiny paws padding at his chest like you want him to pin you down harder — like you crave for him to abuse your little hole until you can’t walk for the rest of the year. “You’re just a little stupid, aren’t you? Gone all mush-brained from me teasing you?”

He wastes no time in bottoming out, leaving the tip brushing against your womb, beating on the squishy walls again and again. His pace is manic, uncaring, straight from the get-go. Nothing can compare to you. Your tight, slick walls accommodate him so lasciviously, so perfectly, that he swears you know what you’re doing.

“You know what? I’m not even mad. Not when you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.” His King has an eye for quality, he thinks, adjusting his grip so he can thrust deeper in you.

A mess of blood, cum, tears — a mess that he has made you, forced onto you like ink on a canvas, and he bled a bottomless black. You’re coming around slowly, letting the ink sink into your putty flesh and submitting yourself to the sensation, hips unknowingly rising to meet the timing of his thrusts. That’s more like it, he licks his lips. You’re cute. Obedient. He wouldn’t mind taking you home.

“Hey, hey. Here's—uh—an idea. Why don’t you become my own cocksleeve? I’ll tell Mikey that you—hah—fought real hard, but you just couldn’t resist putting a thick, hard cock inside you. I’ll tell him you couldn’t help it.”

Haruchiyo chuckles mid-pant, having grown rather fond of you and your insides. He’s heaving like a beast, sweat gathering at his forehead, eyes squeezing shut to ride out this pure bliss. It’s a first for him. Has he been doing sex wrong his whole life?

“After my King disowns you… after he throws you out on the streets… I'll pick you up and give you a home. this little pussy… I’m going to make it my own.”

“Ah, ah— sto— ah…”

You’ve gone stupid for good, now. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, mindless babbling spilling from your lips (he can barely make out Mikey’s name in poor, broken syllables), your breasts bouncing and pussy twitching as it overflows with juices. All words are lost to you in this state.

And yet you’re still hugging his thickness diligently, just like a custom-made cocksleeve. He really ought to reward you. Haruchiyo reaches down to stimulate your clit and shudders at the feeling of you clenching tighter.

That far-off look in your eyes, your thighs periodically convulsing with spurts of cum spraying out pathetically between your folds — it’s almost too good to be true. You’re spent, brainless, mouth agape and tongue lolling out with drool overflowing from the sides when Haruchiyo finishes in you. He can make out broken parts of your speech: feeble efforts of voicing his name.

Not Mikey’s. His.

“You’re mine to play with now,” he says, throwing his head back in laughter at your pitiful mewls. “What do you think? You don’t have any objections, do you?”

Without thinking, with a heightened lust that betrays all logical thought, he sheathes himself again, all the way to the brim with a heady groan. The cum still potent and thick inside your hole spills out and paints his cock in a hot mess of liquid.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes glazed over with so much pleasure that you look as if you were far, far above the clouds.

“I'll take that as a yes.”