I Can't Get Over Marito And Arajin's First Confrontation.

I can't get over Marito and Arajin's first confrontation.

This dude, this unhinged looney tune of a man rolls up, on what I can only presume is a stolen carousel animal, wants to start beef with the punk on a date with his little sister (girl, yes your bro is hot, but no. stop it.) so what is his response to scare our protagonist off?

Why, introduce himself with the most seductive bedroom eyes, practically moan his name as he strikes a GQ pose, and lolling his tongue around like a horny lizard of course! Hey, the punk can't mess around with his sister if he's fucking him instead! 🙃

It's Better Than Regretting

Kikaku Hanbee/f!Reader, post break up, mentions of sex and some light dirty talk (once again, minors dni) probably a little OOC but I tried. This fandom needs more content and this crazed witch like man has a place in my heart. The title is lyrics from "Crashed the Wedding" by Busted which was what inspired me to write this. Summary: Post breakup, Kikaku finds out you've agreed to a marriage of convenience. word count: 4.1k

Kikaku feels the wedding invite burning a hole in his pocket; he takes a long drink of beer, wondering for the tenth time if this is a mistake. The two of you broke up; he and you wanted different things out of life. So what if his parents were friendly with your old man? No one expected the two of you to end up together. In fact, Kikaku had been made all too aware of your father’s disapproval of him. When you got your first piercing, when you got drunk for the first time and missed an exam, when you started staying out all hours of the night frequenting different music venues, the blame was placed squarely on Kikaku’s shoulders for being a bad influence on his perfect princess.

It was always like that; your father would say he was only looking out for you, but Kikaku called it how it actually was; all he was doing was forcing his own expectations onto his only daughter. You had come to him many times, complaining about the feeling of suffocation, wondering how you were supposed to call the man “family” when you couldn’t even talk to him half the time without walking on eggshells. Kikaku didn’t have any answers, aside from telling you “Fuck that shit” and take you out for a good time. 

Eventually, inevitably, the two of you transitioned from friends to friends with benefits; sitting and nursing his beer, Kikaku tries to shove the memory out of his head to no avail. How could he forget? His band had played one of their first shows and barely anyone had showed up, and the people that did hated them. 

You had been the only friendly face at the bar, toasting to him at the end of their set with a sympathetic smile. None of his other girls were answering his texts; you were there and the two of you had a little too much to drink at his place. When the other members left and it was just you and him, Kikaku let you hug him; according to you, he looked like he really needed one, but that wasn’t all he needed. Your body was soft and your breath smelled sweet and sharp from the plum wine. Before Kikaku could communicate to his brain that his dick was acting up around you and it would be a bad idea to act out on this sudden urge, you had kissed the top of his head and squeezed him to your chest. Kikaku can’t remember too much of what happened afterward, only flashes and sensations and waking up in the morning with a raging migraine and you laying nude on the futon next to him. 

It was a good thing the two of you had for a long time until the day you had come back to his apartment and refused a make out session with a serious expression. Kikaku could have guessed the problem; it was always the problem with his main girls. They got too close, too attached, even though Kikaku really didn’t make much of a secret that he wasn’t into the whole exclusive thing. Frankly, he didn’t think what the two of you had was special. You just had the benefit of knowing him the longest and being his friend first. 

That being said, you never showed signs of jealousy or feeling hurt by Kikaku’s other lovers, so he really hadn’t expected that to be the reason you decided to end things officially and not just the sex, but everything. No more shows or take out or movie nights. No more being friends; you called it being amiable. When you crossed paths, you would say hello and engage in a little small talk. Nothing more, nothing less. Kikaku accepted without making a fuss; he was in a shitty mood for a while but hey, getting dumped is never fun.

“Is that why you ended things?” Kikaku cut right to the chase as soon as you took the stool next to him; he slid the card over to your coaster, like it was some distasteful object. “You wanted to make things serious with this guy?”

“Hello to you too. How did you get this? Oh no, just water please.” You told the bartender, who had just come over to take your order. “Kikaku, my father sent this to your parents; how did you get it?”

“Wow, you weren’t even planning to invite an old friend to such a grand occasion?” Kikaku grumbles. “Cold. I thought you said no hard feelings.”

“I heard you were busy with work; besides, since when do you enjoy going to formal parties?” You give him a wry half smile. “Unless there’s an open bar.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. Father spared no expense.” You hold your glass of water but don’t take a drink. “He set up the whole thing. I didn’t even have to worry about picking out a dress. It’s all been decided.”

“What, did he pick out the groom too?”

Kikaku snorts but your smile is nowhere to be seen; you take the invitation and push it over to him. 

“I know it’s short notice, but I’d like your parents to come if they can. They’ve always been good to me; they’ve treated me more like a daughter than he ever did.” You tell him softly. “I must look pretty lame to you, huh? Letting my father marry me off and domesticate me. Is that why you called? Did you want a good laugh?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Kikaku turns so quickly in his seat, he nearly knocks over his now empty glass. “I was joking: did your old man really pick the guy out? What, did he send out a resume or something?”

“He works at the same company; we’ve met a few times. His name’s Kenji Hazawa. He needs a wife and my father needs me to settle down. A match made in heaven.”

“So? What is wrong with you?” Kikaku’s eyes scan your face, hardly believing the words coming out of your mouth so casually. “You’re gonna let your dad marry you off to some asshole you don’t even like?”

“Stop. I do not need you, of all the people in the fucking world judging my decisions.” You fix him with a cold stare. “I gave it to you for free. You know what I get with Kenji? A comfortable life and my father finally off my back. I get freedom.”

“How?! How the hell is selling yourself to the highest bidder-?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. It’s why I never told you. That's why I stopped talking to you.” You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “You just don’t get it, Kikaku. I’m a single woman nearly past her expiration date, father’s words not mine, and no one is letting me hear the end of it. I’m done fighting against it all by myself.”

“You don’t have to do this. He can’t force you.”

“It’s already decided. I just have to walk down the aisle and say ‘I do’ and I never have to worry about money or being looked down on again. Sweet deal, isn’t it? Sorry. I guess I’m not the cool badass bitch I thought I was.” You roll your eyes and suck in a breath of air. “I tried doing it my way and what did I get? My father is ready to disown me, everyone in my life is treating me like a joke, minus your folks.”

“I never-”

“No, no, I wasn’t a joke to you. I was a good time.” You correct yourself. “Well, now I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted and weak, alright? There, I admit it. I’ve been on my own in this and I’m sick and tired of it all. Is it really that different than you giving up music professionally for your merchandising job?”

“My job doesn’t fuck me.” 

The sentence slipped out before Kikaku could filter himself; but it’s true, isn’t it? Won’t your husband expect you to perform your wifely duties? Kikaku’s nails dig into his palms; he can’t get the image out of his head, a faceless man, on top of you, taking you as though you’re his. You might get pregnant. 

“How is this happening? She’s mine…she was mine.”

“It sounds like your job fucks you plenty.” You take a sip of water. “So, is that your issue? You won’t have the chance to get in my pants again if I’m spoken for?”

“Stop changing the subject, this isn’t about me.”

“It’s always about you.” 

Kikaku glares at you, but somehow can’t bring himself to truly be angry; you’re being so despondent and resigned. The person sitting next to him might as well be a stranger. The fire is gone from your eyes and the sly quirk of your lips is nowhere to be seen. But then, maybe that was just the face you showed him. Kikaku can’t even defend himself and say you hadn’t made him aware of what you were going through. You had, multiple times, for years. He just wasn’t taking it to heart. At some point, you apparently decided to pull back entirely. 

“Look, I don’t want to fight. I don’t hate you, Kikaku. This isn’t your business and I never meant for you to even know about the damn wedding. I’m going to get married next week and it’ll be okay. Kenji is a good man; we get along enough. We both know it’s a marriage of convenience.” You smile but it doesn’t reach your dull eyes. “Who knows? Maybe somewhere down the line we could fall in love. Either way, we’ll be content. It’s more than most people get to have.” 

“This is fucking crazy. You’re crazy.” Kikaku is hunched over the bar counter; his voice is shaking. He can’t look at you; all he can do is stare blankly at the wood panel. “You can’t be happy with this. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your blessing.” You put a few bills on the table. “Here, I still owe you for the last time we got drinks. You might not believe it, but I’m doing what’s best for me. I’m living my life for me. It’s my choice to do this, to make it all a little easier.”

“Is that the logic you’re using? Give up something to gain something you want more?” Kikaku leaves the bills on the counter, untouched. “Is it really worth it? Is this really what you want?”

“That’s also none of your business.” Despite your words, your tone is almost kind; with a faint smile, you stand up and push in the stool. “Have a goodnight, Kikaku.”

No. You can’t leave now, not like this. That smile is as fake as they come. Kikaku knows what your fake smiles look like; he’s always been able to tell how you’re feeling. He might not have been much of a comfort on your bad days, but he knew when you were having them, and he would try to make it a little better. 

When did that stop? It wasn’t his intention to make you feel uncared for. Kikaku might have played around, but it didn’t make his feelings for you any less. He was just caught up in other things. He had no idea you were having that hard of a time. 

You walk away and Kikaku doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t yell or leap from his chair to drag you from the door. He can’t feel his legs. You’re getting married. You’re going to be someone’s wife. He’ll never be able to make up with you. It’s over. You’re not going to give him the second chance Kikaku hadn’t even realized he had been hoping for. 

“She’s really gone. It’s really over. She’s getting married.” Kikaku mutters to himself. “She’s getting married and I…I can’t do anything to stop it.”

“Hey don’t worry so much. Most marriages end in divorce.” The bartender comes over to collect the empty glasses. “I got married twice and we were actually in love. Besides, if it’s a marriage of convenience, maybe you can be her side piece.”

“Huh?” Kikaku glowered up at the man smiling placidly down at him. “Who the fuck asked you?!”

“Just trying to offer some comfort. I thought you guys weren’t serious anyway. How drunk are you? Don’t you recognize me?” 

“Uh…”

“Nekota? This is my bar; it has been a while, but you came here a few times with a couple of my buddies.” 

“Oh right. Usao-kun and Kumao-kun’s old friend.” Kikaku recalls. “My bad, I was…I’m kinda out of it today.” 

“I could tell. That seemed rough. Want something stronger? On me, but just this once; still gotta make those child support payments after all, haha.” Nekota laughs good naturedly as he pulls down a bottle of tequila from the middle shelf. “Hey, that’s something to drink to; you’re a young bachelor, you’ve got plenty of time to settle down if you want to.”

Settle down? Kikaku never wanted to settle down; that was why things didn’t work between him and you in the first place. He has no right to feel so deflated. 

Was there some secret part of him that hoped you would eventually come back? Well, contrary to Nekota’s assurances, Kikaku doesn’t have time. You’re going to be married in a week. You’ll be someone else’s. He won’t have a place in your world, not any more, not when you’re going to be somebody's beautiful, blushing bride. 

“She doesn’t even love him. How can she do this?”

“Come on, Kikaku, right? Here, have a drink and relax.” Nekota beckons with his hand and sets down the shot of tequila. “The little lady said so herself, it’s not your problem.”

“No. I guess it’s not.”

Nekota is right and Kikaku doesn't need a two time divorcee to lecture him on matters of the heart. You had every right to go and marry another person, for whatever reason. Kikaku isn't even your friend anymore and he's certainly not your boyfriend. You don't owe him a thing and it's not his place to step in and try to convince you to not go through with a sham marriage. You've chosen your path and he's chosen his. All he can do now is toast to your nuptial and hope for the best. He can do that much for you.

"To the bride and groom." 

"Here, here!" Nekota clinks his own shot glass with Kikaku's. "Good man, you're gonna be just fine."

"Cheers." Kikaku slurs and downs his shot in one large swallow. "Here's to the whole thing goes off without a hitch."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you take this woman, to have and to hold, to-”

“I OBJECT! NO ONE SAY ANOTHER DAMN WORD, I OBJECT!!!”

It took Kikaku two hours to get up that morning; he had been drinking into the late hours of the night in a last ditch effort to make sure he wasn't able to be mobile today off all days. Even now, dressed sloppily in an old suit, hair hastily tied back and eyes sunken in with sleep deprivation, he feels like he’s running in a dream. The venue is quaint but tastefully decorated in pastels. There’s not many guests; he supposes your father wanted to get the wedding done with little fanfare. The objective was to tie you down, not throw a celebration. 

“Son of a bitch.” Your father is the first one to rise; he addresses you angrily. “Did you invite him?”

“N-no!” 

You look aghast, glancing rapidly between Kikaku as he comes barreling down the aisle and your soon to be husband. Kenji looks twice as confused and a little scared, which is fair, considering how haggard and demented Kikaku looks, like a twitchy spider rushing to catch its prey. You hadn’t heard a peep from Kikaku since that night and his parents had politely turned down your invite, as they had a previous engagement they were committed to attend. It was a good thing they couldn’t, because you’re certain both Kikaku’s mother and father would keel over and die from the spectacle their son is currently making of himself. 

“I said, I object!” 

"Heavens above." The priest frowns. “Not another one.”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?” It’s a wonder Kikaku can yell so loudly when he’s barely breathing; there’ sweat stains at his collar and the underarms of his blazer. “You can’t marry these two-they shouldn’t be married!”

“Who the heck are you?” Kenji’s brows furrow and he looks at you questioningly. “Do you know this guy?”

“Yes.” You sigh. “Kikaku, you’ve been drinking, haven’t you? I could smell you from the doors. Didn’t I tell you this wasn’t any of your business?”

“I don’t care! Dammit, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass, but this isn’t about me.” Kikaku finally manages to speak without gasping. “I get it. You’re tired of dealing with your father’s bullshit and you think this is the only way out, but it’s not.”

“I’m calling the police!” Your father’s face is red and he looks ready to run up to the podium and deck Kikaku in the face. “How dare you? Haven’t you done enough? You weren’t good enough for her then and you sure as hell aren’t now.”

“Dad, you don’t need to call the police,” You look at him pleadingly. “Kikaku will leave on his own. He knows this is what I want.”

“No it’s not.” 

“Dammit, will you leave already!?” You’re the one raising your voice now; hot tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Why, Kikaku? Why are you doing this to me? Are you just upset because I won’t be available anymore? Well, too bad. Go play with one of your girlfriends and stop making a scene.”

“I’m sorry. I'll say it as many times as I have to.” Kikaku steps forward until he’s standing in front of you. “I’m sorry for not listening. I’m sorry it took me this long to get it, but you don’t have to get married.”

“What? Is this your idea of a proposal or something?”

“I don’t deserve you either. I should have been there more. I can be.” Kikaku looks at you, exhausted, desperate. “Don’t do this. Let me be there for you like I should have been all this time. You don’t have to fight on your own, not anymore. I’ll never leave you alone again.”

You blink and tears drip down your cheeks. “Kikaku,”

“I sent out messages to all the girls I was seeing last night. Look at my contact list.” Kikaku takes his phone out of his pocket and shows you the screen; his contact list only has a handful of names, people you recognize as family and work colleagues and friends. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, just…don’t marry this guy.”

“Kikaku, you’re being absolutely-!”

“Hey,” Kenji begins tentatively. “I think he makes a few good points.”

“What?” You turn to stare at your fiance. “But, I agreed to this.”

“It’s not like we’re in love.” Kenji cracks a begrudging smile. “It could’ve been nice but something tells me that’s not going to cut it.”

“I’m…I couldn’t just-”

“Also, your friend’s kinda freaking everyone out and I’m a little scared he’s going to put a curse on me.” Kenji glances at Kikaku. “You couldn’t have showered before coming to take the bride away?”

“You-!” Kikaku grabs your hand. “Just for that, you’re cursed! Everyone’s cursed! I hope the open bar is worth it assholes!” his eyes soften as he looks at your stricken face. “Can we talk somewhere more private? I think your old man is gonna kill me before the cops show up.”

You look at his hand; his palm is sweaty. 

“Please.” Kikaku’s voice is hoarse. “I won’t leave without you. I never want to go anywhere without you.”

“Damn you.” You’re really crying now. “You asshole.”

“Yeah.” Kikaku offers a weak smile; he glances down at your dress. “Oh. Wow.”

“Don’t say it.” You shake your head and wipe your eyes aggressively. “I know, it wasn't my choice.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Kikaku exhales and his grip on your hand tightens; he’s only just taking in the sight of you, dressed head to toe in a flowing white gown, dolled up and looking like an angel descended from heaven. 

Maybe he was full of shit because right now all Kikaku wants to do is take you away for himself. He brings a hand up to wipe the tears off your cheek; why do you look so sad? Is he really not wanted here? Is giving himself to you not enough?

“I’ve been a fucking mess all week.” Kikaku admits, eyes searching your face for any sign you don’t despise him. “I couldn’t sleep or eat or focus at work. I’m being shameless, you don’t have to tell me that. Maybe it’s too late for us, but I can still fix this. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just tell me what I have to do.”

You’re blushing now under his intense stare. “...take me with you.”

“What?” Kikaku leans in to catch every word. “What do you want?”

“You. I want you, Kikaku. I want you to take me out of here.” You confess, trying not to whimper as his thumb rubs your hot cheek. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Say no more.”

You hike up your skirt and kick off your heels; Kikaku leads the way, the two of you ignore the shouts and gasps and threats being hurled your way by your father. Your eyes stay glued on the hand still clutching onto yours and you run, run, run until the car is in sight, decked out in flowers and a “Just Married” sign on the back. Kikaku opens the passenger side door and guides you into the backseat, even lifting the hem of your skirt so the door doesn’t close on it. The driver, rightfully skeptical and a bit horrified, practically throws the keys at Kikaku when he screeches for them. 

“I think everyone assumes you’re some sort of demon here to kidnap me.” You watch as the driver races up the steps of the venue, probably to explain why he’s left his post. “We’re going to have to return the car.”

“For now we drive,” Kikaku turns the keys, backs out of the parking space, and slams his foot on the gas. 

“This is fun for you, isn’t it?”

“A little.” Kikaku laughs, suddenly quite cheerful. “I’m relieved. I thought I was going to lose you…again. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m still on the fence about that.” You tell him warily, taking off your veil. “Did you really mean all that?”

“I might have lied a tiny bit about not wanting to steal you away. I want you for myself. I know it’s not fair to you, but that’s how I feel. I was going crazy.” Kikaku looks at you from the corner of his eye. “You look really good right now.”

“Thanks.” You adjust your seat belt. “Eyes on the road.”

“I want to fuck you in the dress.” Kikaku blurts out. “Let’s get a hotel and pretend we’re married to get a free bottle of champagne.”

“Aren’t you still hungover?”

“Hair of dog. Besides, this calls for a celebration.” Kikaku smirks a little. “I know it’s scary the first time, but I’ll be gentle with my pretty little bride.”

“Kikaku, was this all so you could play out some weird little fantasy?” You grumble. “I’m gonna jump out of this car and run back and see if Kenji will reconsider.”

“No! I was half joking…I just want you so bad.”

“Kikaku,” You cross your arms. “I mean it, I’m not in the mood for any teasing.”

“I meant it all. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” One of Kikaku’s hands leaves the steering wheel; his playful smile is gone. “Do you not want me anymore? I don’t expect you to believe in me, after everything…but do you want to try again?”

For a tense moment, Kikaku thinks his chest will explode; he might actually die if you say no, even if you have every right to reject him. But then you take his hand and interlock your fingers. You smile, a little exasperated, but it’s a real, genuine smile. It practically blinds him; Kikaku has half a mind to beg you to marry him then and there. There’s still time and Kikaku plans to use it making you fall in love with him so you never regret today.

“Yes.” You kiss the back of his hand and smile brighter than he’s ever seen. “I do.” 

Iketeru Daga in love with f! Reader headcanons (sfw and now with smut included!)

(look at this beautiful man.)

SFW:

Iketeru will probably need some time to differentiate his feelings of affection for you from platonic emotions. He knows what romantic/sexual attraction is, it’s just not something he’s too preoccupied with; people assume because he’s good looking he has a fair share of experience, but Iketeru more often than not finds himself uncomfortable with the attention his looks get him. 

It’ll start with Iketeru unknowingly singling you out; he’s a pretty genial person, but you get preferential treatment. Iketeru will unconsciously be on the lookout to see where you are, his smile will light up considerably when he catches sight of you and suddenly it’s as though no one else exists.

Iketeru still spaces out when you speak to him, he can’t help how his mind wanders, but it doesn’t happen quite as often when he talks to you and his focus only becomes keener the more his affection for you grows. He’s curious about you and his brain latches on to details and new information you share; you’re probably the first person who Iketeru actively and consistently engages with in conversation. It’s as if Iketeru is subconsciously trying to understand why he feels so excited and nervous to be near you.

You’re the first person Iketeru wants to tell good news to and he gets the oddest urges to bombard you with information: he just has to let you know what music he’s listening to, show off his cute new hat from Sayuri’s dog food website, a new recipe he tried out, something funny Mabui did the other day. Somewhat like an excited child, Iketeru will unwittingly end up monopolizing your attention and time, he can’t seem to spend enough time with you.

When his mind does drift off around you, Iketeru will probably still be thinking of you in some form whether it be fantasies where you’re the star or just your face being somewhere in the mix of onigiris, mentally preparing for the next shoot, or remembering to buy Sayuri more food on the way home. When Iketeru snaps out of it and realizes you were saying something, he’s unusually apologetic and a bit embarrassed. You must think he’s a scatterbrained ditz and he’s not sure why the thought upsets him so much.

You’re someone Iketeru feels like he can just be himself around but his feelings are confusing and messy. The more time you spend together and the stronger Iketeru’s feelings grow, the more uncertain he is about how to interact with you. There’ll be a period of sudden awkwardness and Iketeru will be second guessing how frequently he approaches you and what he says. What will you do if he lets his real feelings slip? What if you don’t want to be his friend anymore? 

When the truth comes out and Iketeru asks you for a date, he’s still anxious, but in the best possible way. He’s getting butterflies planning where you’ll go, what you’ll do, and he almost combusts imagining the two of you kissing, hugging, holding hands, etc.

To Iketeru, you’re on a bit of a pedestal. You’re his lovely, strong princess who can do no wrong. Even if you mess up or act selfishly, Iketeru will be quick to forgive and forget. You’ll need to be very encouraging to get him to open up so he understands you genuinely care about what he wants and you don’t expect to be catered to or for him to push down his own feelings. 

You either appreciate or don’t mind his immature sense of humor, but if you do decide to join in on the joke, Iketeru will be torn between finding it hilarious or becoming incredibly flustered. Obviously Iketeru knows what sex is, but making dirty jokes and relating you to sexual situations causes very different reactions in his imagination; dick jokes are silly and a bit naughty. But you, cracking one liners and making sly remarks about…intimate things? How can Iketeru be expected to not have his mind drift to what it would be like to do those things with you? 

And that takes us to the spicy stuff:

It might seem odd, but Iketeru takes a much more conservative approach to engaging in physical stuff with you, at least in the beginning stages of your relationship. He’s eager, but also very much the gentleman; he wants to go at your pace and respects your boundaries. You’re someone very precious and Iketeru can deal with waiting for you to take things further; the very idea of pressuring you into doing something makes Iketeru’s skin crawl.

That being said, Iketeru is still very eager. In bed he’ll be mouthing at your skin, wanting to be as close to your body as possible, practically begging for you to tell him what you want him to do to you. He wants so badly to touch you and make you feel good, but he’s anxious to cross a line and go too far too fast.

Most of what Iketeru knows about romance is from movies and books, so expect flowers, candles, something in that vein for the first time. Iketeru wants the first time to be you two making love as much as fucking. What turns him on the most is that you’re the one doing this to him, making his head dizzy and his cock leak with precum with little more than a few passionate kisses and lingering touches. 

Iketeru’s kinks include you being his gentle dom, being blindfolded, over stimulation, eating you out, cream pies, and praise, praise, and praise. Nothing gets him off more than listening to you tell him what a good boy he is while you tease his cock.

If you undress and reveal you went to the effort to put on lacy lingerie for him, Iketeru might stop functioning entirely for a few seconds. How is he supposed to decide between rubbing against your soft, adorable panties so he can feel how wet you are or ripping them off in desperation to be inside you? 

Iketeru doesn’t mind experimenting, but his favorite positions are ones like missionary or cowgirl, really any positions where he can watch your face and look into your eyes. You’re so beautiful and he gets off knowing he’s the one making you so wet and flushed and all your attention is on him. 

“Is this okay?” Iketeru’s lips barely detach from your nipple so he can speak clearly; he’s been alternating between sucking on your breasts and your neck for the last ten minutes. He’s got you sitting on his lap this time; he likes how you wrap your arms around him, run your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair as he suckles and rocks his hips into you. You nod, voice caught in your throat, and Iketeru can’t help smiling; he’s looking up at you, eyes glazed over with affection, love struck and maybe a bit relieved. 

“These are so cute.” Iketeru gives a long, loving lick to your swollen nipple; he’s groping your other breast, thumb swiping back and forth over the other tender bud. “You get so wet when I play with them. I want to keep teasing you, but I can’t-!” Iketeru gasps sharply as you cry out and gush over his dick; it’s wetter than usual. “Di-did you squirt?” Iketeru lets out a breathy, faint laugh. “Oh my god…can you do that again? Please princess, one more time? It felt so good around me, I want to feel it again…” 

Iketeru wishes the two of you could stay like this for hours; locked in a warm embrace, tickling and caressing, feeling each other’s skin and warmth all night. He doesn't even need to cum, as long as he can stay inside you, be as close to you as he can without actually somehow fusing his very being with yours. Iketeru knows you’re overstimulated and sleepy, but it’s hard to feel bad when it means getting to have you a clinging, whimpering mess in his arms. It's intense and overwhelming, you make him feel things he didn't even know he could.

“You feel so good,” Iketeru sighs, pressing the softest kisses to your lips, like he’s trying to soothe you; he’s grinding his cock into you, hard and slow, almost too deep, but Iketeru’s hands stroke your thighs and back, gently ushering you to relax. “It’s so soft inside," he murmurs, slowly rocking, back and forth, back and forth, as if he could go any deeper. "Soft and so wet...so hot, it almost burns. I can't get over how good it feels, so perfect, like you were made for me-”

Iketeru shudders violently when your pussy tightens and his cock throbs thinking about how much cum he’s going to have dripping down your thighs, how pretty your pussy lips will look, puffy and slick and good enough to eat. Maybe he’ll use his tongue to clean you up as an apology for being so needy. 

“Ah, bounce on me…bounce harder, please, want to cum inside you.” Iketeru rests his head between your tits with a ragged moan, shaking with the effort it’s taking him to not just slam his cock into you over and over again like a rabid animal. “Yes, yes, yes! Don’t stop, I want to feel you cum on me again, all over my lap. I’m so close, let’s do it together…?”

Tunnel Vision

Summary: Iketeru is grateful to have you on staff to help him stay grounded, but what is he supposed to do when you're the one making his head spin? 3.7k words

A/N: Art is official from Gaku Kuze; Iketeru Daga/F!Reader who works on the set of Together with Maman as...let's say emotional support human? I didn't think that far ahead, the point is it's fluffy and tooth rotting sweetness. Enjoy!

Off camera, Iketeru is probably the closest to his oniisan persona: pleasant and approaching life with a more positive outlook than his co stars. Even though Iketeru spends a good chunk of time in his own little bubble, he’s not the type to hold grudges or be resentful; he’s too easy going and short sighted for drama.

So where’s the issue? Well, as much as you had an initial impression of Iketeru walking through life unaware and unhindered by the cynicism that grows from adulthood, he still holds himself to a rigid standard, like many people his age. You don’t know if it’s his strict upbringing or a childlike desire to please others when Iketeru is called on to perform a task, but if he falls short, he will not let it go.

Spiraling is the best way you can define it: if Iketeru is unable to accomplish something, he will press on, forcing himself to try over and over. The strain and stress makes him mess up or worse, Iketeru shuts down altogether, immobilized and on the brink of a panic attack.

“Let’s break.” You ignore Derekida’s protests at the nerve of you interrupting the shoot (he’s the director here) but you usher Iketeru backstage into a fold out chair with promises to make it quick.

“Breathe.” 

“But I have to-” 

“Not right now. Right now, you just need to breathe, okay?”

Iketeru calms down but he’s still staring at his hands; he looks like a puppy that’s been scolded for peeing on the carpet. “It’s all wrong.”

“You did one thing wrong.” You hand him a water bottle and step back so he doesn’t feel crowded. “What do we do when we have a problem we don’t know how to fix?” 

“....huh?” 

“I’ll help you: we take a step…?” 

“Into the river?” 

“What? No, what the hell-? Look, we take a step back, calm down, and ask for help. We learned that yesterday, remember?” 

“No.” 

“Here’s your reminder; now have some water, a sip won’t hurt.”

Iketeru drinks slowly; there’s color in his face again, but he still looks and feels a bit uneasy. You glance over your shoulder: a few of the kids are looking concerned, but Utano and Uramichi are leading them in the arts and crafts segment. You suppose Iketeru’s experience in the arts is more centered with performing, but once he’s shown how to do something, he catches on fast. And yet, here you are, another mini crisis to tend to.

The embarrassment he feels at having you see him in such a state is lessened by the need to be pulled out of his own head; it is strange though. When someone like Kumatani or one of the other staff are called upon to similarly aid him, Iketeru isn’t as concerned of how he must come off; he’s mainly worried to be a bother. There’s not a lingering sense of shame that makes Iketeru tongue tied and hyper aware of everything he does, like he’s auditioning on a stage and you’re in charge of critiquing his performance. 

“Sorry.” Iketeru wipes a drop of water from the corner of his mouth. “I’m slowing down the schedule…I’m letting everyone down.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up so much. Think about it this way, how would you react if one of those little munchkins was struggling? Would you tell them what a disappointment they were?”

“No.” Iketeru concedes. “I’d probably…I guess try to help them figure it out.” 

“Why?” 

“What? I wouldn’t want to make them feel bad, of course.” 

“There you go. Next time you’re having a little trouble, be kinder to yourself. Don’t worry about the others, they know you’re doing your best. You’re one of the most talented people I’ve met period: you’re not any less impressive because you’re having some trouble with your, uh, role.”

Iketeru nods and offers a small smile; of course you wouldn’t look at him in a poor light because of this. He knows you’re right but it’s not as easy to be so level headed when he’s in the moment. Yet you seem to have an endless wealth of patience; your words always manage to ground him back to reality. When you’re next to him, speaking to him so warmly and empathetic, Iketeru hangs on your every word.  Even when Iketeru’s mind drifts, he ends up thinking about you in an unrelated way to the topic of conversation: how pleasant your voice is, how close you are, your eyes-

“Iketeru-oniisan? Are you ready?” 

“Huh?” 

“Heh, looks like you’re feeling better, space cadet.” You smile wider. “I asked, are you ready to go out there and try again?” 

“Um, yes! I can do it.” 

“Alrighty, I’ll recycle this for you.” You hold up the now empty water bottle with a sly grin. “I’m just gonna take this and slide it through the hole.”

You thought Iketeru would get a chuckle out of that, but he’s not smiling at all anymore; was that one not blatant enough? Maybe the delivery was off. Derekida is already shouting for you to hurry up and not delay the schedule any further.  

“Oh sure, but when he’s brainstorming, he can hold everyone up for an hour or two; duty calls.” You shake your head and give Iketeru a quick thumbs up. “You got this!”

Iketeru nods and waves, stiff and mechanically; he wants more water now. His cheeks are hot, despite how long he’s been sitting away from the harsh stage lights. Don’t get him wrong, that joke was hilarious, but lately your inappropriate quips make Iketeru think about things he knows he shouldn’t be thinking. 

Kumatani leads him back to the children, using his Kumao-kun voice to say cheery words of encouragement, though Iketeru’s only half listening. Not good: it’s time to get back into the role. Iketeru smiles as the children welcome him back and show him their progress on their projects. Iketeru really does feel much better but still off somehow; the ball of nerves squirming in his stomach has been replaced by a knot in his chest. Is he sick? Maybe he needs to take a cough drop or have some hot tea after work. Iketeru hopes he isn’t coming down with something: he wouldn’t want to make you worry.

“Worry? I mean, I guess she would be? I hope so…wait, no. But I don’t want her to worry.” Iketeru glances to where you’re chatting backstage with Ikuko; a yawn escapes you, but you don’t look too exhausted and you give a sweet smile in response to whatever Ikuko is speaking of. 

“Iketeru-oniisan?” 

“Huh? Oh sorry, that looks very pretty; good job!” Iketeru smiles kindly as the young girl holds out her tissue paper bouquet of tulips; she mixed the papers somehow so they look multicolored. “I can practically smell them.” 

“I’m going to give them to my mommy to say thank you for being my mommy.” 

“What a thoughtful gift, I’m sure she’ll love them!” 

It doesn’t take long for Utano to show Iketeru how to bunch the papers together to make a nice pattern and to shape the chenille stems to secure the “petals” in place. You’re leaving for the day and see Iketeru finishing up a bouquet of what looks like red poppies; he’s laser focused on the project, hunched slightly over the table in his green room. His door is open and he looks ready to leave, save for the clutter overtaking some of the table’s surface. 

“I knew you could do it.” You knock lightly on the door as a courtesy before strolling over, grinning as you watch him carefully tie the flowers together with a ribbon. “Wow, that’s really good. Like, you could sell these.”

“Huh?” Iketeru looks up at you. “Sorry I wasn’t listening, I’m making flowers.”

“Anyway, how are you feeling? You should head home, you’ve done enough for today.” 

“I couldn’t, I had to finish this and you were still working.” Iketeru regards his handiwork with a content smile. “There, all done.”

“Wait, are they for me?”

“Sure are.”

“They’re really nice, but are you sure you don’t want to save them as a prop or something?” 

“I can make more later if we need them; these I made just for you.”

Iketeru turns in his seat and holds up the tissue paper poppies up with an absolutely angelic smile on his face; you take the little bouquet gingerly, careful not to bend or tear anything. 

“I made these to thank you.” Iketeru stands up, taking a minute to put everything away into a container he borrowed from the arts supplies closet. “I know it’s not much, but I was able to make them because you helped me.” 

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“Sure you did.” Iketeru’s smile grows sheepish. “I know it’s part of the job, but I hope you’ll accept these as a token of my appreciation. I wouldn’t have made it through the last few hours if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Aw, I just got there first.” You grin bashfully, beyond flattered at this gesture. “Thank you, Iketeru: I’ve never gotten flowers as a gift before and these ones will last me a long time!”

Iketeru smiles vaguely as you continue to speak, still admiring the poppies; he’s a tiny bit surprised to hear no one’s ever given you flowers before, fake or otherwise. You’re one of the best people he knows; surely someone like you gets bushels of flowers for all the holidays and special occasions, maybe even for no real reason at all. Iketeru can see you clear as day in his head receiving dozens of daisies, stems of cherry blossoms, strings of sweet peas and sprigs of lavender adorning your hair and clothes until you’re covered in bright colors and fragrant florets, a mountain of tokens from imagined people moved by how grateful they are to have you in their lives. At the center of that mountain of flowers is you, putting all of those beautiful blooms to shame; you smile at him and take the offerings of artificial poppies and homemade onigiri, cradling them protectively to your heart. Iketeru stares at you with helpless admiration, unsure what to do other than allow himself to melt into a puddle as you lean in to press the softest of kisses to his cheek-

“Iketeru?”

“I wasn’t listening!”

“You didn’t even try to make up something.”

Iketeru coughs. “Sorry.”

“Ah well, I figured.” You tuck the tissue paper poppies into your front pocket. “The inside of your head must be an interesting place.”

“Sorry.” Iketeru repeats. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you. You must think I’m rude.”

“Come on, I know you’re not like that.” You assure him. “And hey, I like to ramble anyway, so I guess it all works out. No harm, no foul.”

“If you say so.” Iketeru glances at the ground. “Actually, what I was thinking…can I bring you flowers again?” 

“You don’t have to do that!” You sputter, holding the artificial blooms to your chest. “You didn’t even have to give me these.”

“I wanted to.” Iketeru assures you. “I wasn’t planning to give them to you initially, but I kept picturing your face when I was practicing. It just seemed right for you to have them.”

“Okay then.” You chuckle. “Careful, you’re gonna make me think you’re sweet on me at this rate.”

“What’s that mean? I’m not familiar with that phrase.”

“It’s a way to say you like someone in a romantic sense.”

“I see, thank you for explaining.”

“No problem.”

“I really like how that sounds.”

Iketeru notices you’ve gotten quiet; the space between him and you is very small, the two of you are nearly bumping shoulders as you walk side by side out of the building. Iketeru rarely gets the chance to be with you one on one, but when the occasion arises, you do most of the talking. 

He wasn’t too sure, but Iketeru recognizes the way he thinks of you has long since changed from innocent admiration to affection. Even so, he hadn’t been preoccupied with trying to pursue something beyond being friendly coworkers. Iketeru couldn’t have guessed how much his attachment would cement into, but it’s impossible to deny there’s a difference with how he regards you and other people he cares for.

Whenever you walk into the room, Iketeru feels a sudden rush, not even realizing he had been anticipating your arrival to the studio. You speak firmly, but are never mean or insincere. Even in the midst of Iketeru’s crisis, seeing you make a beeline towards him made the dreadful, heavy weight on his chest abate enough so he could breathe a little easier. 

Has the thought never crossed your mind, at least once? Your face betrays nothing as you make your way to the station, Iketeru moving so you walk on the side of the sidewalk that isn’t by the street or the bike lane, even when he’s lost in thought; it’s like an automatic instinct at this point. 

“Iketeru, do you live this way?” Your voice changes tone from mild to concerned. “I’m actually going to a cafe by my place.”

“A cafe?” Iketeru perks up; cafes have cozy insides with places for people to sit for a while and share good treats and conversation.

“Yeah, I’m gonna head home after treating myself to a little something, so you don’t need to escort me home.” You say lightly. “It’s not very far, maybe five minutes. I didn’t know you lived in the area.”

“I don’t live around here.”

Your expression changes to slight shock. “What? Iketeru, didn’t you realize where I was headed? Oh man, how far out are you from your place? We’ve been walking for fifteen minutes.”

“That’s right, I was going to call my sister to pick me up.” Iketeru remembers; they were supposed to run a couple errands when he was done at work. “I’ll text her that I’m going to get a taxi home, she doesn’t really need me to help with grocery shopping.”

“Why don’t you have her pick you up now? We’re not that far from the studio, send her your location.”

“Yes, I guess that would be the smart thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

Iketeru types out a message to let Mabui know where he is and apologizes for losing track of the time. It’s a good thing he’s a decent actor because otherwise Iketeru doesn’t know how he would keep the disappointment off his face. It sounds like you want him to leave. When you brought up going to a cafe, Iketeru’s first thought was that you were going to extend an invitation for him to join you, but maybe he was still daydreaming. 

“Something felt different about today.”

chest hurts as you watch him impassively type on his phone, explaining where he was and why his reply is so late.

“Is this being sweet on somebody? I’m pretty sure that’s how I feel. All I know for sure is that I would be so happy if she felt that way about me. Even if she didn’t, I still want to go with her. I want to see her more. I’m a coward. I can’t even ask her to have coffee.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m sure Mabui won’t be too upset, it’s better than if she sent me out on my own and I forgot the grocery list or something.” Iketeru can’t stop talking, saying anything to gloss over this awkward moment. He's spent enough time acting like a fool. “We’re running low on some things; I’ll probably get stuck on cooking duty for dinner tonight since I forgot all about it, haha. We usually split chores, but sometimes it’s easier to buy stuff when we both use similar things. I do like to cook though, I found this new recipe for onigiri filling, I should pack some for lunch tomorrow and-”

“Whoa, whoa.” You put a hand lightly on Iketeru’s shoulder. “You don’t sound okay.”

Iketeru tenses up; your hand shocks him through the layers of his jacket and sweater and undershirt, right to his skin. Your expression is measured, gaze steady but gentle; you’re off the clock and he’s still making you do work. 

“My apologies. I’m fine, maybe a bit tired, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry.” You withdraw your hand. “I didn’t mean to keep you, it was nice of you to walk me out.”

“No, don’t be sorry, it was my pleasure. You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

Iketeru manages a smile to mask the shame he feels at his own behavior; you shouldn't have to humor him like this. You're a nice, thoughtful coworker and friend. 

“Do you want me to stay until your sister comes?”

Iketeru has to force down the burst of giddy joy from your kind offer. “There's no need. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently, it’s nothing super bad or serious, just…it’s hard.”

“Hard, huh?” You nudge his shoulder. “Sorry, couldn’t resist that one.”

Iketeru chuckles; you really are too good to him. Despite almost ruining your plans to relax, you’re trying to cheer him up. Iketeru supposes it’s time to be an adult and focus.

“You go on, Mabui will be here soon.” Iketeru feels a buzzing in his pocket and the chimes of a bell; he takes out his phone. “Ah, she’s calling me now.”

“I’ll leave you to it then; have a goodnight Iketeru, let me know how the onigiri turns out!”

“I will.” Iketeru waves as you turn on your heel and continue walking down the sidewalk. “Goodnight…”

With a sigh, Iketeru accepts the call, hoping he sounds better than he feels.

“Hey, sorry sis, I didn’t mean to-”

“Is she still there with you?” Mabui’s calm voice asks. “Put her on the phone.”

“Why?”

“I want to say hello and thank her for looking out for my little brother.”

“Uh, well, hold on.”

Iketeru looks up; you’re only a few paces away. In a few seconds, he’s caught up to you, phone in hand. Any trace of guilt Iketeru has wavers when you turn around to look at him.

“Iketeru? What’s going on?”

“Sorry, it’s my sister.” Iketeru says, still a bit confused. “She wanted to say hello and thank you for all the help you’ve given me.”

“Oh!” You look pleasantly surprised. “How nice; here, put her on speaker.” Iketeru does just that, holding the cell phone between you and him so you can both hear Mabui clearly. 

“Hello, Mabui-san, I'm ”

“Sorry to butt in, but Iketeru wants to ask you on a date. Normally I wouldn’t pry into his personal life, but he’s been getting worse with remembering basic things and being distracted over this, so would you mind giving him an answer?” Mabui’s asks as if she was requesting you tell her the time of day. “It would make things a lot easier on me.”

“Mabui!” Iketeru would say he’s panicking but he’s far past such a mild reaction; his insides have frozen solid. He might choke on nothing but his sister continues to address you like he's not there hearing every incriminating word. 

“Iketeru probably wants to go to that cafe with you, so how about there for a first date?”

“DON’T LISTEN TO HER SHE’S LYING SHE’S A MAD WOMAN!” 

“No, I’m helping.”

Iketeru yanks the phone away. “Sis, how could you?!”

“Well, I’m going to the store now. See you later.”

Iketeru stares blankly at the black screen. The call is over. 

No, his life is over. He can’t even look at you. 

“Did you want to go to the cafe with me?”

“I’m sorry.” Iketeru croaks. “I’m really sorry, please, forget the last five minutes, I’m so sor-”

“Iketeru, breathe.” You take his hand gently. “Just breathe. Everything’s okay. I’m here and I’m not upset.”

Iketeru does as he’s told, slowly inhaling and exhaling; your hand squeezes his palm just enough so he feels steady. You’re smiling; you’re holding his hand. 

“Um, so, we shouldn’t stop and talk in the middle of the sidewalk.” You glance around. “I think you scared someone and we should probably go before they call the cops. Besides, you look like you could use a hot cup of tea, huh?”

“Do you mean it?” Iketeru leans in slightly. “You want me to go with you?”

Your gaze falters from his face to over his shoulder and your lips are pursed together slightly. Iketeru forces himself to be in the moment; the circumstances aren’t ideal, but now that he’s been put on the spot, Iketeru has to see this through. If you reject him, he won’t argue or be offended. Iketeru can wait until he’s alone somewhere before he allows his heart to crumble. 

“Please. Please like me too, please-”

“It doesn’t have to be a date.”

Iketeru isn’t able to speak; he just nods like a puppet on a string but then you continue to speak.

“I always pictured dressing up a little for a first date.” You confess, chuckling self deprecatingly. “Maybe we can plan it out together? We can do something casual of course, but I wanted to look cuter for you.”

“I,” Iketeru blinks rapidly and gathers himself so he can speak clearly. “I want that too. I want to take you anywhere you want to go…and bring you flowers.”

“I’d like that.” You stand a bit awkwardly, smiling like a fool. “I like you a lot, you know.”

“Me too.” Iketeru smiles; he doesn’t feel nervous anymore. You made him feel so safe. “I can’t wait to bring you your first real bouquet.”

“I’m looking forward to it; but still, I like these poppies. I’m going to save them; all this time, I thought it was just me. I never want to forget today, so I’m glad these flowers can’t wither away.” You sigh happily and lean into Iketeru’s shoulder slightly. “It’s a gift from you after all: they’re special, ya know?”

“Hm?” Iketeru smiles at you, as if just realizing you were on his arm. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I’ll tell you some other time.” 

This was fucking badass. Brother complex still weird but damn.

i just think she's neat <3

Options, Pt.3

Arajin/f!Reader/Marito

Summary: Arajin and Marito grow closer to you over time and start becoming more open about their intentions, but a wrench is thrown into the works when you receive a confession on Valentine's day. wc: 3.7k A/N: warnings for violence, possessive behavior, general toxic behavior, jealousy, crying, angst, Marito being a borderline yandere (honestly it's not hard to see canon him as a potential one). Also the OC is meant to be a reference to Harima Kenji from School Rumble (another lovable delinquent character lol) Enjoy!

As time went on, you, Arajin, and Marito began a comfortable routine; at first you would typically spend time with Arajin, whether at the Chu Chu restaurant, milling around the local shopping center, or studying at the library. Sometimes Marito would show up, usually unannounced, or Arajin would suggest oh so casually if you wouldn’t mind his boyfriend joining the two of you. You couldn’t say the exact time where Marito’s presence was a given; it got to the point where you were so used to him being around, it was more strange for him to not show up. Marito would surprise you sometimes, creeping up on you, saying “boo” or growling under his breath; it escalated to finding yourself regularly trapped in a loose embrace, an arm over your shoulders caging you to his side, or just a hand ruffling your hair just a little too roughly. He was as clingy with you as he was with Arajin now and to his delight, you never shrunk away or gave him any indication you weren’t just as pleased to be in his company as Arajin’s (unless Mahoro was present and glaring daggers; you didn’t want to rattle the tiger’s cage).

Arajin, of course, was becoming bolder and bolder, albeit in his own way. He would hover and fuss whenever he wasn’t latched to Marito; he’d shower you in compliments for the most (at least in your opinion) insignificant things and basically insisted on being at your disposal for any and every inconvenience. Arajin refused to let you carry anything but your own purse, if that, would strip off his top layer the moment you shivered at a slight chill, even offering to blow on your drink if it was too hot to taste without burning the tip of your tongue. At one point while the two of you were walking around, there was a sudden and heavy downpour; Marito and you were fine waiting it out, but Arajin insisted on running over to the nearest convenience store to buy an extra large umbrella for the three of you to walk under, along with a pack of tissues and a hot tea in case you somehow caught cold from being a touch damp. 

Marito never showed any sign of jealousy or irritation at his boyfriend’s doting on you; you weren’t sure what to make of it. From what you heard, Marito, to put it lightly, was not a particularly giving or forgiving person. Yet, he seemed not only apathetic to Arajin’s behavior but amused. 

No, more than that. There was a pattern that you couldn’t unsee when you finally got around to noticing how Marito would behave every time Arajin took more liberties with his indulgence of you: ruffling his hair, whispering things into his ear until he turned into a blushing mess, pulling him in close to blow raspberries on his cheeks, trapping him in bone crushing bear hugs, laughing and smirking all the while. It was as if Marito was praising Arajin, granted usually in a sort of teasing, roughhousing sort of way, for becoming more confident in expressing himself around you.

What’s more, when Marito did this, he would stare at you. Sometimes a brief glance and a wink; other times he would make direct eye contact and not break it until Arajin said something to regain his full attention. Those looks, deliberate and intense, left you with a dry mouth and a rapidly beating heart, not because you were intimidated and you didn’t believe it was Marito’s intention to do so in the first place. You swear, those fervent, almost hypnotizing looks were calling for you to…do something. That’s where you were officially stumped. 

At least, until today. 

“This is for you.”

You take the letter, a little dumbstruck; it was a plain white envelope, sealed with a red, heart shaped sticker. 

“Read it first before you give me your answer. I’ll be at the clubhouse after school, near the spot where that old pond froze over. Will you come?”

You’re gripping the letter lightly in your hands; you’ve only spoken to Harima Kenji a handful of times. He’s one of many Siguma recruits you’ve made small talk with in times you dropped by to visit Marito and Arajin or met them on the way to go somewhere else. Harima is a newbie and you were shocked to learn he was a second year student. With his large build, goatee, and severe looks, you had honestly assumed he had been held back a year or two. The impression you got from the brief interactions you’ve had is that Harima was a lot more sincere and earnest than his rough way of speaking and near constant scowl implied. To think, he would do something so…romantic and on Valentine’s day no less. Had he been waiting to give this letter to you for the occasion? Just the thought made your heart swell a bit, touched at the sentiment. 

“I know this is sudden, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you to be my Valentine and...be mine. Even if you can’t accept my feelings, I hope you’ll take some time to consider me.”

“...okay.” You smile shyly. “I’ll come with my answer after school.”

“Thank you!” Harima clenched his fists at his side and bowed his head slightly; he hasn’t smiled once this whole encounter, but his eyes practically shine when you smile and his cheeks flush so bright you can see it under his whiskers. “I’ll be waiting.”

You’re left alone, standing at your shoe cubby, still feeling a bit shocked; perhaps that was why you didn’t notice Arajin. He had dived right back around the corner, sweaty palms clutching a small box of chocolates and a bushel of daisies, as he unwittingly eavesdropped on the exchange.  

“Who confesses with letters these days?”

Marito cocked his head to the side slightly, examining the way Harima struggled to get up; his uniform was half soaked by slush and mud. Arajin was off to the side near the edge of the pond, eyes rimmed red and looking conflicted; he didn’t think Marito would go this far. When he ran off to tell Marito what he had seen, panicked and heart heavy, he thought he would just scare the rookie a bit, get him to back off. Everyone within Siguma was aware who you were and that you were off limits. Besides, Arajin was almost positive you were going to reject Harima anyway; it wouldn’t hurt for Marito to lay down the law and nip the problem in the bud, right?

“Aren’t you just an old-fashioned romantic? A confession by hand written letter, asking her to meet you after school.” Marito waited until he was half standing to send another swift kick to Harima’s wobbling legs. “Kenji-kun, I knew you were kinda stupid, but not this stupid. And as if your blatant disrespect wasn't bad enough, you upset my Ara-teen; another strike against ya.”

“Sh-she accepted my letter.” Harima grunts, doubled over, but face raised to glower up at Marito through swollen eyes. “She coulda thrown it out…turned me down right then if she really wanted to, crazy bastard. You have no right-!”

“Now how are you still able to talk?”

Another kick, this time to the ribs; Harima heaves, spitting up what Marito assumes is whatever he had for lunch earlier. The ground is cold and wet from the half melted snow; it’s slippery and Harima can’t seem to get his footing; frankly, he’s strong, but far outclassed and up against one very pissed off juvenile delinquent. Marito allows some space, watching unimpressed as Harima tries to stand; he had put up a decent enough fight initially, but he’s all power and no stamina from what Marito can see. Finally, Harima collapses on his hands and knees with a curse.

“Eat shit.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” Marito leans down slightly, hand cupped around his ear. “Gotta speak up.”

“Dammit, I give, you crazy fuck.” Harima manages to growl. “She’s coming to see me either way.”

Marito clicks his tongue, shaking his head in faux disapproval. “I guess you weren’t as serious about her as you claimed to be. All it took was a little roughing up and a couple shattered ribs. Where’s the passion?”

Arajin steps forward, eyes wide and unable to keep the tremor from his voice. “Marito, maybe that’s enough? You didn’t need to-”

“Arajin, if you can’t stomach it, you can wait for me inside.” Marito smiles blithely over his shoulder. “Aw, don’t worry, I ain’t going to kill him. I won’t even kick him out of Siguma, not yet anyway. I still have a use for him.”

“But, he's hurt really bad. This is way too much.”

“Isn't this what you wanted?”

“I never told you to beat anyone up!” 

“C'mon, you had to know what would happen once you blew the whistle.” Marito grins without a trace of mirth. “Just a while ago you were bawlin’ your eyes out to me about losing your chance with her, after all these years, after finally getting some nerve to start making moves. Ara-teen, we're so close to making her ours. We need to put this loser in his place and make an example of him.”

Harima groans; he’s trying to get up. Marito’s smile falls; he moves forward to grab Harima by the hair and slams his face straight down into the cold mud. Arajin’s stomach churns at an audible, sickening crunch and Harima’s sharp scream of pain.

“Whoops, looks like you broke your nose.” Marito’s nails dig into Harima’s scalp, holding him down, easily ignoring the hands grabbing and scratching at his wrist. “Go on lover boy, make your confession! Fuck, you're pathetic.” 

Marito yanks Harima’s head up so the other boy can get one desperate gulp of air, before grabbing his face with both his hands. Blood gushes from Harima’s nostrils to mix with the mud and snot as his face makes contact with Marito’s knee. As he recoils, Harima’s mouth opens and Marito cackles, seeing a gap in his teeth; it’s probably buried in the mud now.

“Marito!” Arajin rushes over, finally gaining feeling in his stiff legs; he kneels down and tries to pull back Marito’s arm, but he hardly budges. He’s honestly terrified of Marito right now, but he feels more guilty.

Marito was right; Arajin knew that something like this at the very least could happen. He hoped. He wanted Marito to throw his weight around and put a stop to Harima’s pursuit of you because in his heart, Arajin didn’t know if you would accept his feelings. Arajin didn’t know for sure and he wasn’t willing to cross that line but he didn’t want you to leave him behind either, be with someone else. 

You looked so flattered, glowing from Harima’s request. It scared him. It made him want to throw up and so he ran away, candy and crushed flowers in hand, because Arajin couldn’t bring himself to approach you the same way. He was more willing to let someone get the shit kicked out of them to have a better shot at you. Arajin has never felt more sick with himself. 

“Dammit you have to stop!” Arajin pleads, grabbing at Marito, using what strength he had to try and pry him away. “Enough is enough!”

“This isn’t close to enough. I can’t believe you thought…what did you think? I’d just hand her over? To you?” Marito stares at his subordinate's bloodied and bruised face with utter disgust. “It’s an insult is what it is: this weak bitch…fuck, you really thought you would get away with it, didn’t ya? That you could make a move on our girl?!”

Arajin is shoved away unceremoniously, sent back skidding in the snow; Marito isn’t smiling anymore. His breathing is as labored as Harima’s as he begins stomping anywhere he can reach. Harima is all but unconscious as his body is kicked over and over, in quick, brutal succession. 

Marito scraps the sole of his boot against Harima’s face like he’s trying to get the mud off and it earns him a pained moan and now there’s blood mixed with the mud. Marito can hardly stand to look down on him: Harima is nobody, an NPC, a nameless red shirt. He couldn't take a few well placed punches at half of Marito’s strength. The very suggestion that you had accepted Harima’s corny bullshit love letter with a smile almost made Marito angry with you. How could you even entertain it? Why should anyone else even matter to you, let alone someone so beneath him?

“Get up." Marito demands, digging his heel into Harima’s neck. “You limp dicked, shit-for-brains loser, get the fuck up! If you even think about looking at her again, and I’ll-”

“Marito!”

Marito turns to send a nasty glare Arajin’s way, but it’s not him who’s running at breakneck speed to Harima’s side. You slip in the mud a little short of where Harima’s head is resting on the cold ground, but you crawl the rest of the way. A look of abject horror changes your features in a way Marito has never seen.

“Harima? Harima, are you okay?” You frantically try to push away Marito’s leg. “Stop it, what are you doing to him?!”

“You need it spelled out?” Marito taps Harima’s temple with the tip of his boot before moving back a step; he’s smiling now, grinning down at you, blood and mud splattered over his clothes. “Don’t worry, kitten. He won’t ever bother you again. No need to give him an ‘answer’; I made sure Kenji-kun got the message loud and clear.”

You silently reach into your skirt pocket and take out a handkerchief.

"Gross." Marito makes a gagging noise as you begin gently wiping Harima’s swollen face. He’s able to open one eye, watching as you clean off as much as you can with the scrap of cloth.

“Harima? Don’t fall asleep; do you think you have a concussion?” 

“You came.” Harima turns his head slightly as a tear runs down his cheek; he can barely speak with his split, swollen lip. “I’m sorry. Just go: I don’t want you to see me this way.”

“Harima,”

“Ugh, knock it off, crybaby; I barely hit you.” Marito rolls his eyes in disdain as you help Harima rise to a sitting position. “Really milking it for those sympathy points, huh?”

Harima rests his head on your shoulder, breaths shallow but steady. You won’t even look at Marito.

“Is this the “Siguma pride’ you told me about? Threatening your members? And for what?” You ask quietly. “I’m not a prize to be won.”

“He’s a loser.”

“This isn’t a game.” You snap, your cold stare wilting when Arajin catches your eyes. “Is this what you do now? You don’t fight anymore, but you’re okay letting someone else do it for you. You can’t work up the nerve to be honest with me about your feelings but I guess you can stomach this just fine?”

“No.” Arajin denies; his guts feel like they’re being twisted. “I didn’t want this.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. I can’t even look at you right now.” You tell him. “I can’t believe-I thought we were friends, I thought-”

“You belong to us.” Marito states calmly. “Everyone else knows but this idiot, apparently.”

“I’m not a thing you can put a claim on!”

“I did,” Marito replies. “And I am. I won’t let anyone else have you.”

You shake your head, as if in disbelief; Marito bends down, reaching for your arm to haul you up. Before Marito can lay a finger on you, Harima slaps his hand away. 

“Leave her alone.” Harima wheezes; he’s rolled over slightly in front of you, as if to shield you from the offending touch. “I’m sorry. This happened because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Nah it's ‘cause you’re a fuckin’ loser.” Marito jeers, sticking his tongue out at Harima’s scowl. “Now, kitten, don’t make me be rough with you; Ara-teen and I just wanna have a chat to clear up things.”

“We do, really.” Arajin puts a hand over Marito’s. “Please, we’re sorry.”

“Huh? I ain’t fucking sorry.”

“Seriously?!” Arajin looks at him, silently begging Marito to stop being combative; he looks at you so guiltily, so regretfully, you almost feel swayed by his words. “We are your friends. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but it's the truth.” he professes. "We like you."

“So, what do you say, kitten?” Marito adds with an uncontrollable grin.  “You’re gonna be ours, right?”

“Don’t speak to her that way, scum!” Harima sits up, puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to stand up once more. “She doesn’t want to go anywhere with you and your toadie boyfriend.”

Any trace of humor disappears from Marito’s smile. “You just don’t know when to shut up; all this for a stupid shitty letter-”

“You’re wrong.” You put a hand comfortingly on Harima’s shoulder, ushering him to calm down. “That letter was so sweet and thoughtful. I think it takes a lot of courage to be so honest about how you feel.” 

“Okay, enough is enough.” Marito sighs heavily and moves to reach for you again. “Come on, get up. We should be discussing this privately-”

This time it’s not Harima’s large hand that smacks Marito’s away; you’re finally looking at him. Tears well up in your eyes. Marito recoils as if your slap hurt; he’s looking at you, almost dumbstruck. He’s never seen you so much as raise your hand to swat a bug.

“No.” You can’t stop the tears from coming; your hand is still raised, poised as if to slap Marito again should he try to come near you. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

Arajin tries to go to you, but stops short; he stands, helpless, as you cry into your hands. You’re crying and it’s partially his fault, yet Arajin can’t even bring himself to go to you. 

“Hey.” Marito’s hand drops to his side; his crooked smile wanes, gaze searching your face, as if he can’t process what he's seeing. “Hey, why are you looking at me like that? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Arajin doesn’t know when you stopped crying; an hour later he’s with Marito back at the Siguma clubhouse. You left, half supporting Harima, as he limped towards the nurses office, insisting he could patch himself up and a hospital wasn’t necessary. 

Marito hasn’t spoken a word; when you all but ran off, he trudged the opposite direction, looking forward, motions stiff, almost robotic. When they returned to the clubhouse, the building feeling strangely empty and cold despite having a heating system running, Marito pulled Arajin to the hammock. Arajin didn’t argue or make any smart remarks; he let himself be tugged along. Currently he’s slotted between Marito’s legs, half lying on his chest. Marito is staring up at the ceiling, barely blinking; he looks half asleep, half awake. Arajin can’t tell if he’s angry or not but he doesn’t feel like asking. He feels like shit. 

“I screwed it all up, huh?”

Marito has one arm underneath his shoulders; his fingers clutch onto Arajin’s arm. After a beat of silence, Marito has him locked into a tight embrace; Arajin’s face is tucked away into the crook of his neck. From this position, he can’t see what kind of expression Marito is making.

“It was going so well, but then that asshole came outta nowhere, I thought we were gonna lose her, it felt like we were suddenly running out of time. I didn’t even think she’d actually say yes to him. Shit, I don’t know, I freaked, I was-”

Arajin doesn’t need Marito to finish; he knows exactly what he wants to say because it’s the same reason he himself had run away. Again. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I mean, it’s my fault too.” Arajin closes his eyes tight. “I should have told her a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Do you have to ask? I’m a selfish coward.”

“Yeah, but I kinda like that about you.” Marito lets out a half chuckle. “Did you think you were too weak for her?”

“Sort of. Can we not get into that now?” 

“When then?”

“When?”

“We’re going to get her back, aren’t we?” Marito sounds annoyed. “We give her a little time to calm down and try to talk to her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“You’re gonna have to see her again; she works for your mom.”

“I guess she’ll be avoiding me from now on.”

“What about me?” 

“What do you mean?”

“It’ll be easier to avoid me. Ya know, she’s probably with him now. If I go after him, she’s just gonna hate me more, but-I’ve never felt this before.”

“Pissed?”

“I want her here and she’s not.” Marito swallows hard; there’s no levity in his tone. “She didn’t even ask if I was okay.”

“Are you okay?” 

Arajin realizes this might have been the first time he’s asked Marito that question; not to mention, this might actually be the first time Marito hasn’t gotten something he wanted, something he couldn’t get with threats and intimidation.

“I got hurt too, you saw. He got me on the face even.” 

Arajin doesn’t point out to Marito that the injury he’s referring to is the most minor of bruises on his jaw.

“She didn’t even care. She didn’t even notice.” 

“I could…” Arajin sighs. “Kiss it better.”

Marito moves so he can stare him down with the most lost puppy dog eyes Arajin has ever seen on maybe the most terrifying person he’s ever met. Arajin leans over, pressing a soft, but lingering kiss to the small welt. Marito whines, arms wrapping around him tighter.

“Ara-teen, you gotta talk to her. Tell her I didn’t mean any of it, I just got carried away.”

“Weren’t you the one telling me to be more forward?” A slight smile comes to Arajin’s face for the first time in hours. “Tell her yourself.”

“She’s just gonna run away.” Marito slumps with a pout. “Tell her I’m…”

“Sorry?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Okay, that’s really something you’re going to have to tell her yourself, even I know that.”

“But she won’t talk to me! You saw how she looked at me…” Marito bites his wobbling lower lip, teeth almost scraping against his snake bite spikes. “I scared our kitten away. I messed everything up.”

“We both messed up.” Arajin lets Marito bury his face into his shoulder. “I guess we deserve each other…”