The Duality Of Men

the duality of men

the disgust and horror i felt reading this is insane. i love this. your works is one of dark content i actually enjoy reading.

Center of Attention

Dark! Geto Suguru x reader x Dark! Gojo Satoru

5.6k wc

Synopsis: Your boyfriend cheats on you with his best friend

(Warnings: rape/noncon, cheating, infidelity, forced relationships, piv sex, oral sex, afab reader)

In the beginning, things with Suguru were great. 

He was nice, considerate, sweet. Down to earth, honest. You'd only been official for a few months, but it felt real. Like it could last forever. 

And then, he introduced you to Satoru. 

It started from there. You hated everything about that man. He came from money and drove in loud, fancy cars. He was vapid and insulting. The way he behaved with you was just as disgusting. Calling you pet names like 'princess' and 'baby'. Touching your waist, your arm, your ass. Suguru once said they shared everything together. You were starting to wonder if Satoru thought you were on the table as well. 

It started a lot of arguments between you and Suguru. He'd always defend his childhood friend, barely even listening to your protests. It's just his nature, he doesn't do it on purpose, he does it with everyone. With how defensive he was about his best friend, you should have known. You should have seen the signs. 

Maybe then you would have been less surprised when you walked in on the two making out. 

You'd left Suguru's house after the last fight you had with him, once again about Satoru. You were halfway home when something like guilt spread across your body. Doubt. Maybe you were being too harsh on them. They were childhood friends. They'd always have a connection you just wouldn't be able to understand. 

You had come back with a bag of take out-an apology- on your wrists. You didn't think anything of it when the front door was unlocked, Suguru's clothes on the ground. 

They were on the couch, half-naked. Satoru was pressing his precious best friend further into the cushion. Suguru's hand was in his white hair, aggressively pulling. You could feel your heart breaking with every second. Every breath you took. 

"Suguru...?" They froze. 

It was your fault. You should have been faster. 

The food you'd brought drops to the floor as you turn, ready to bolt out the door, run to your car, drive far far away and just forget this shitty night. Satoru is faster. His slender hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back. 

"Wait. Just wait," he begs, his voice uncharacteristically desperate. Given any other situation, you would have laughed, but the tears were already streaming down your face. You can only stare at the empty couch, where those two had just been. Where you can see your cotton pink panties. 

God, this is all one sick joke, isn't it?

Suguru calls your name, but you don't bother to look. Satoru's grip is strong, and you're forced to wither just a foot away from the two of them. You feel everything. Humiliation. Heartbreak. Anger. 

You slap away the hand that tries to cup your cheek. It's all it takes to snap you back.

"Don't touch me." Through your tears, you try to wrestle your way out of Satoru's grip. 

"Let me go," you demand, your throat threatening to close, "Satoru let-let me fucking go—" 

"Not until you let us explain," Suguru begs. By now, Satoru had cornered you against the wall, and you feel yourself crying even harder because you don't want an explanation, you know what you fucking saw. 

"Jesus Christ-what could you possibly say that can-that can explain anything!" Your voice is too shrill, too high, too emotional, you need to bring yourself down but you just can't. It's so much. You need to leave.

"Satoru and I love each other." 

Your voice halts in your chest as you look up. Suguru's eyes are somber as he gazes at you. You want to stop yourself from examining him. The unruffled clothes, the dark hickeys on his neck. For some reason, the evidence breaks you more than the action. 

"We always have," he continues like he's talking about the weather. He was always the logical one, "Ever since we were teenagers." 

"Great," you respond, voice too damp to signify any real sarcasm, "how touching. Then just—" 

"—But it wasn't enough," Satoru rushes in, quick to cut you off. "We—we weren't complete. Like we would never have the right time....and then we met you." 

You don't like adoration in his eyes, like he wasn't just about to fuck your now ex-boyfriend. Disgust fills your stomach as you continue to glare at him. You hate him. You hate them both. 

"The first time Suguru brought you home, I knew you were the one for us," Satoru says. "You-you're our missing puzzle piece—what we've been looking for our entire life." He's good with words. He's a little like Suguru, in that sense. Maybe they do deserve each other. 

You can only stare at him, and then your eyes shift to Suguru. He has the same expression, though a little less obvious. Despite how much your heart hurts, a disbelieved laugh chokes out of your throat. 

"...that's your excuse?" you whisper, "you wanted a fucking threesome?" 

"It's not an excuse." Suguru steps forward, now they both are fully trapping you. His voice is soaking with emotion, almost like he was about to start crying. 

"It's the truth. I love you. We love you, and we want you to be with us." 

You couldn't believe them. You couldn't fucking believe them. It was all too much. The argument, the kiss. This, them cornering you and claiming that they love you. It was the first time Suguru had told you that he loved you. You thought you would have been happy to hear those words come from his mouth, given enough time together. 

Now, it just feels like another nail in the coffin. 

You look down, looking at the spilled food. You'd brought curry. It was currently all over the bare floor, leaking into cracks. Good. You hoped when you left and cried your heart out, Suguru would be here, cleaning up your mess. You wouldn't be able to hurt him as badly as he did you, but at least you'd be able to make him miserable. 

"I want to go home," you finally say. You pull at Satoru's hand. He doesn't budge. "I want to leave. Let me leave." 

He doesn't reply. His grip gets tighter, almost crushing. You stumble when he pulls you forward, nearly crashing into his chest. When you look up, he looks....wrong. Off, in some way. 

"You can't." His sunglasses are off. You can see his eyes. They're too wide, too manic. It scares you. "We—we just told you that we loved you. I love you. You—you can't just leave me—" 

“Let go, Satoru.” 

Satoru stops rambling, looking over at the other man. Suguru steps even closer. His hand reaches up, touching your hair. You don’t slap him away again, but you flinch. His frown deepens. You hate the look of hurt in his eyes, like he’s the victim here, like he spent months with someone who was just stringing them along. 

“You need time,” Suguru says, more to himself than you, “we get that. We’ll give you time. And then, you can come back to us.” You should snap at the blistering hope in his voice, but you don't. You grit your teeth, holding everything in until you're finally away from them. 

He steps back. Satoru doesn’t. His teeth mash together, jaw clenching like he wants to argue. Fight. 

Suguru’s eyes darken. “Let go, Satoru.” 

Slowly, you can feel his grip on your wrist loosen. You react, stumbling back, hands desperately gripping on the door. You can feel their eyes on you the entire time. 

You can give yourself credit, however. You don’t break into sobs until you get into your car. 

Two months later, and you still refuse to see them. 

It's not like they haven't tried to get in touch, much to your disdain. They called and texted and spammed until you blocked them. Then, you blocked them on social media. At work, you ask the secretary to start dumping the bouquets instead of sending them up to you. And you have to tell your mutual friends to stop trying to act like the middle-man. 

You can't do anything about the letters or the gifts left at your door every other day. Ignoring the full mailbox becomes customary, and you start passing off the chocolates to your neighbors and friends. 

"Can't you get them to stop?" You ask Shoko as she rummages through another gift basket they had sent, "seriously, I'm close to snapping here." 

"Oh, this looks expensive." She eyes the wine bottle. When you give her a look, she sighs. 

"You know I can't do that. Whenever they get obsessed, they don't take no for an answer. Maybe that's why they have such a great relationship." You wilt at that. 

"Did you know?" 

Her fingers twitch in a way that makes you know she's craving a cigarette. 

"I mean, I knew they had a thing for each other back in high school, but I thought it faded." You sink your face further into your hands. "Trust me, I wasn't in on whatever bullshit they did to you." 

Her fingers reach over to squeeze your thigh, a way of apologizing. You give her a timid smile, before ultimately sighing again. Her hands move to your back. You feel the urge to cry in her chest again, but you've been doing that for days now.

"Just keep doing what you're doing. Ignore them, and hopefully, those assholes will focus on something else." Shoko suggests. She shifts closer. You can smell her perfume. 

You nod. "Yeah, hopefully." 

Eventually, the gifts start to dwindle. The flowers stop coming, the gift baskets get more and more sporadic. Two months later, everything stops, and you're nearly crying in relief. By now, you're mostly over whatever you had with Suguru. You two hadn't been together for very long. Now that you think about it, the whole situation was more embarrassing than anything else. And the fact they both had the audacity to lovebomb you too? Humiliating. All you want to do is never see him again. Him or Satoru. In your eyes, they can both just fall off the face of the Earth and you'd be all the more happier for it. 

The date was nice. Cute, was the word you'd use. A nice dinner and peaceful conversation. And he wasn't that bad to look at. A nice smile. Dimples, you noted when he laughed at something you'd said. 

"I'd like to see you again." He said, right before you let yourself out of the car. 

You glanced back at him. And you stay there when he leans closer. The kiss was nice, too. 

You're giddy the entire short walk to your apartment. It fades just when you reach the door. 

Their arms are crossed, and it strangely feels like you're coming home to two disapproving parents. Satoru is leaning against a wall, sunglasses tucked underneath his collar. Suguru holds something in his hands—another bouquet. 

Your excitement fades, but secretly, you're relieved. You don't feel the remnants of your heart shattering the more you look at them. You feel....nothing. 

Nothing but the slight irritation that they were blocking your door. 

"Welcome back." Suguru starts, but Satoru is much less tactful. 

"Who was that?" He demands, but the car has already left. Thank god you would want to bring a man you'd barely met into your drama. 

None of your business, you want to snap, but it's too late for either of their bullshit. 

"No one," you say and their glowers only grow that more intense. 

"Can this wait until tomorrow?" you finally ask, "I'm exhausted." Satoru seems to get even more pissed at your comment, but Suguru steps in. 

"You haven't been answering my calls," Suguru starts, "and you haven't accepted any of our gifts. We're just worried about you." 

That's rich, coming from him. You can't help but let your irritation control you, at least for a little while. Just because you were over him, doesn't mean you were fine with what he did. 

"Sorry, but you lost the privilege to 'worry about me' when you started sucking your boyfriend's dick," you mention to Satoru, who stiffens, "Speaking off, was he the mistress here, or was I? How long had you two been doing it behind my back, anyway? Or is it technically not considered cheating because you said 'no homo' before making out." 

"I'm sorry," Suguru says, and to his credit, he sounds remorseful, "there's not a single day that goes by where I'm not regretful at how you found out." 

"Oh my God, absolutely not. You don't get to apologize to me to clear your conscience." You're hissing. "What? Do you expect me to give you and Satoru my blessings or something? Fuck off before I start throwing my shoes at you." 

"Would that make you feel better?" Satoru cuts in. "You can hurt us if you want to, baby. What—what do you want us to do?" He steps forward. You step back. "We can get on our knees, and you can punch us. Hit us. Wanna smash beer bottles on our faces? Anything, baby. We want you to forgive us." 

His sincerity takes you off guard. His eyes were wide. He was serious about what he just said. For a moment, you felt bad for Suguru. He was stuck with that. And then you processed Satoru's words. 

"Forgiveness?" You spit out. "You have to be fucking with me because there's no way in hell I'd ever forgive you. Do you know the worst part about this entire shitshow, Suguru? It wasn't the fact that you broke my heart, it was that everyone except me knew that my boyfriend was sucking his best friend's dick. Do you know how humiliating that was? Of course you didn't because you two were so busy thinking about each other that you didn't even think how it would affect me." 

By the time you were done, you were panting. You bit your lip, forcing the hint of tears back because if you broke, it would negate everything you had just said. Despite the tremor in your voice, it felt good to yell at them finally. The look on their faces made the cake that much sweeter. 

"Now, fuck off," your voice was quieter, almost hoarse, "leave me alone." 

They don't stop you when you reach your door. You can barely stop your hands from shaking, and you know you won't be able to hold yourself together for much longer. The door unlocks with a click. 

And then you're stumbling through your home with an added weight on your back. 

You almost fall into the carpet, quick to balance yourself and whirl around. They're already inside. Suguru is shaking his head while Satoru fiddles with the door. 

"Satoru—" Suguru starts. 

"Enough." He hisses. "We've tried doing it your way, and look where it got us. My way, now." The lock clicks into place. 

Suguru looks like he wants to disagree, but he holds himself back. He frowns, glancing over to you. 

"You're right," he says, "maybe actions are better than words." 

Something like fear pushes its way into your throat, but you're waving it away. You immediately reject the sudden increased thumping in your heart. This is Satoru and Suguru. Assholes. They are selfish bastards who care about nothing but themselves. But they wouldn't hurt you. They wouldn't do that to you. 

Right? 

You're certain of it. You know it, yet your voice falters the first time you try to speak up. 

"...What are you doing?" 

You can't keep the anger. It's gone, as much as you try to pull it back inside your chest, keeping it there. Instead of hot, you just feel cold. 

You don't like the way they're slowly inching towards you, like you're a scared feral animal—like they're hunters itching for a taste. 

Despite your clear discomfort, Satoru still has the audacity to smile. Not his usual grin, filled with unabashed confidence, this one is warmer. Nicer.

You think it makes what he's doing worse.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he sounds like he's begging, voice low, simpering, "I never wanted to hurt you. I promise." 

"What are you doing?" You demand again, but your voice wavers even more. 

"I get it. I get why you're so upset with us. You just felt left out, right?" Satoru's saying, and you should be getting angry at his words, but the way he isn't stopping is getting more and more concerning and something is wrong, they aren't leaving, why aren't they leaving?

"Just let us show you how sorry we are, how much we care," Suguru says, "Everything. All for you. I promise." 

"Get out," you're whispering, and it hope it has more bite than you can possibly give, "just get out. Leave me alone—" 

Satoru grabs you. You manage to scream before his lips crush into yours. The kiss isn't anything the way Suguru used to kiss you. Gentle, soft, giving, never taking. Satoru was all strength. The strongest. He pulled, and nipped, and bit until it wasn't even a kiss. It was just you being devoured by him. 

You push away (he lets you), but before you can suck in a breath, Suguru's there, grabbing the back of your neck. The kiss is less painful, but just as searing. Especially considering you've kissed him before, back when things were innocent, much less twisted. 

"See, Suguru?" Satoru whispers when the dark-haired man pulls away. "So much quieter, now. You just wanted all our attention, right baby?" 

You can't speak, not when you can barely breathe. You're pushing again, struggling to get out of their hold, but you are nothing against Satoru. You are nothing against Suguru. 

What are you when it's both of them at once? 

You mumble about a quiet 'get the fuck out'. It's too shaky to be anything intimidating. They both have the audacity to laugh in a way that makes you feel like a tiny kitten clawing at their owner's hands, desperate not to sink into the warm, soapy water. 

It's easy to manhandle you onto the couch, Suguru keeping you nice and pliant as Satoru fiddles with your pants. Suguru hushes you, like you were just playing around. Playing hard to get. Like the sobs and the tears and the tearful begs aren't enough to prove anything coherent. 

"Stop," you say anyway because there's a chance, there's always a chance, "Suguru—Satoru stop. What—what are you doing? Please just—" 

Suguru bites your neck, making you yelp. He apologizes with a warm tongue, ignoring you and glaring down at his companion. 

"Hurry up." It sounds impatient. "You wanted a taste, right?" 

Satoru clicks his tongue and they're both ignoring you, as if your opinion, your struggles, your screams is just background noise, nothing truly important. Your pants are already down at your legs, preventing you from kicking. Satoru's large hands squeeze at the fat of your thighs, and you jump as his cold hands brush over your sensitive skin. 

Your voice is muffled by Suguru's lips once again. The man moans into your mouth, loud and lewd. 

"I'm savoring this," Satoru says while you're distracted.

He pushes two fingers into your clothed cunt, shuddering at the touch. "You touched this pussy all the time. Can't say the same. Cut me some slack, man." 

Suguru reluctantly pulls away, leaving you panted and slightly breathless. He says something to Satoru, chiding. Satoru bickers back. You can only come back when you dazedly look down just in time to see Satoru push your panties to the side and attach his mouth to your pussy. 

You're not wet. How could you be? Satoru remedies that, eagerly licking until your hole is covered by his saliva. Your recent inactivity doesn't help either. You hadn't done anything, not since Suguru. Your body is starved for attention, something Satoru is readily giving. You become wet and needy in no time. 

Not one to be ignored, Suguru pulls your shirt over your head, abandoning it somewhere behind the couch. Your arms are useless, barely catching onto his wrist before he's forcing you away. Suguru's head dips down, running his tongue over the skin at your breasts, eager for a taste. He bites at one of your nipples, groaning when your hands reach up to wildly tug at his hair. Your actions seem only to excite him further as he squeezes your other breast, digging his fingers into your soft flesh. 

On the floor, Satoru is having more than enough of his fill. You aren't prepared to feel the long finger prodding your hole before easing its way inside your tight pussy. You give a faltering whimper, arching your back. Suguru pulls away from your chest with a pop. 

You're sobbing now. It doesn't prove anything, considering each sob is interrupted by a reluctant moan. Suguru leans up to kiss you. You squeeze your eyes, turning away. His lips brush your cheek. He chuckles at your act of defiance. 

"So cute," he says against your skin. Butterfly kisses across your cheek, your neck. "I missed this. I missed you." 

The words hurt, cut into your skin, enough to make you bleed. You cry harder. They are kind enough to let you. 

"Did you miss me too?" Suguru asks. When you give no answer, he laughs affectionately. 

He's unbuckling his belt as he traces more kisses across your skin. Suguru pushes away the hem of his pants, untucking his cock. You can feel its length press against your side. 

Below you, Satoru grabs you by the hips, adjusting you further down the couch until the new angle makes his fingers hit something deep inside of you. You gasp, eyes flying open. 

"Look at him," Suguru says, taking your chin, pointing your gaze down, "Isn't he so pretty?" 

Blue eyes stare back up at you, clouded with lust and need. You can't help but stare back through your tears. You've never noticed how beautiful Satoru's eyes were. They were always covered, obscured by his glasses. They're so pretty. Like oceans, merged with a starry sky. They're so beautiful. He's so beautiful. How could someone so beautiful do this to you?

"He wanted to do this for so long," Suguru murmurs into your ear, "would not shut up about eating you out, making you cum down his throat. Sit on his face until he passes out." 

Satoru says something, it sounds irritated, muffled by the slick sounds of your pussy. In response, Suguru grabs the back of his head, shoving him deeper between your thighs, keeping him there. You jolt at the sudden intimacy, another whine melting out your throat. Satoru seems to forget whatever he was saying, going back to worshipping your battered pussy.  

"If we're lucky, he'll suffocate down there," Suguru says with no real heat in his voice, "though I think he might like that idea." 

His voice is heavy, like he'd been running. Suguru grabs your hand, enveloping it in his own. The same hand that was touching his throbbing cock. When you try to jolt away, he doesn't let you, trapping your fingers underneath his own. 

"C'mon baby." He says through gritted teeth. You squeeze your eyes again, turning away into your shoulder. Suguru doesn't let you run away, not this time. He's quick to make himself known, scrapping his teeth against your neck. He moves yours and his hands up and down his leaking cock. 

"There we go." He sounds relieved. "That's it. So so good for me." 

You let him. You let them. You lie there like a doll, letting them maneuver you as they wish. Satoru's the loudest, moaning against your pussy, sucking on your clit. Suguru is more refined, shuddering into the crook of your neck as he forces you to grip his cock tighter and tighter. 

"Stop." It's nothing more than a pleading whimper. "Please please stop." 

Suguru kisses you again, sloppy and messy, just as Satoru sucks on your clit, hard enough to make you see white. You come right on his tongue and fingers, riding out your high. Against your will, your back arches, rising off the couch with a high-pitched keen. Your thighs squeeze around his head, threatening to crush his skull. He's more than happy to let you. 

Suguru follows right after, you can feel his cum coat your hand. Sticky, making you feel even more disgusted with yourself than you already were. 

You slump into the couch just as Satoru pulls away. Suguru tucks you into your chest, but you don't care enough to struggle. You can only watch as Satoru rises from his place on the floor, locking eyes with Suguru. 

"So?" Suguru asks, still panting, but there's a smile in his voice, "How was it?" 

There's something carnivorous in Satoru's eyes before he lunges. He aggressively kisses Suguru, and the latter returns the affection just as potently. Numbly, you realize that they were softer kissing you. They were holding back. Now, they go together like wild dogs, teeth clashing together. When they part, Satoru's lips are bleeding. 

Satoru turns his gaze on you. You avert your eyes, not wanting to bait the unpredictable animal. Luckily, his earlier inhibitions had been sated by the kiss. He falls on top of you two, burying his head into the crook of your neck, where Suguru has turned your skin into a patchwork of hickeys. 

"Fuck baby," he sighs into your skin, "you're an addiction, y'know that?" 

You focus on breathing. In and out, filling your lungs with much-needed oxygen. It works to keep you from processing the absolute awe in Satoru's voice. The sincerity. The adoration. So so much worse had he just been mocking. The way he usually was. 

But it was over now. It can't be anything more. You'd go insane if it were anything more-- 

"Now, I don't think it's fair anymore," Suguru's sighing into your ear, "you had a taste, right? Let me have a turn now." 

He's about to stand, but Satoru's placing a large hand on his chest, forcing him back on the couch. 

"Sit the fuck down." He spits out in irritation. "You're so greedy, y'know that? I'm fucking this pussy first, just like we agreed on." 

You can feel your breath hitch at that. The way they just stripped you down of your humanity. Like you were a toy, two toddlers were fighting over. It was horrifying. You can feel nausea build up in your throat. 

Suguru notices your distress first. He sighs, nuzzling his face into your cheek. 

"Okay okay, I yield," he relents, "don't start throwing a tantrum just because you don't get your way. Today is supposed to be about someone else, remember?" 

Satoru huffs, but he calms down significantly. He pulls away, you can feel his hands trail again your chest, like he's eager to put his mouth on something else, before he's stopping himself. 

By now, your fight has been sucessfully withered out by these two men. As though you ever had a chance, even in the beginning. Even if Suguru's threatening grip hadn't been present, even if the crazed look in Satoru's eyes wouldn't have manifested through his touch, this result would have always happened. 

Even then, you still squeeze your eyes shut when you hear the clanking of his belt. Your eyes sting again, and you tuck your face into the comfort of the fluffy cushions. 

Your thighs are clamped shut. Satoru easily plies them apart, sliding his way between your legs. Something hot and blunt lightly brushes against your entrance before he eases his cock into your pussy with one smooth motion. 

Despite the previous orgasm, it's not enough to obscure the pain. He's too long, and you're certain you could feel him right to your stomach. He curses a stuttered moan. 

It's useless, but you're reaching up anyway. Nails close to his face. Maybe your true goal is for his two beautiful eyes, ripping them apart, eager to see blue turn into red.

You don't get the chance to find out for yourself. Suguru's stopping you, restricting your body with his own. There's a punishing bite right on your neck. You yelp. Suguru grins through the blood. 

"Be good." He chastises. "Behave. We aren't hurting you, right? We're making you feel good." 

He's wrong. They have hurt you. They are hurting you. You feel it in your neck, the aching bruises, your battered cunt. It's everywhere. 

It hurts even more when Satoru doesn't even give you time to adjust. He's blabbering something; you can't hear through the blood between your ears as he collapses into your chest. The position is awkward, considering Suguru is still sucking on your neck, but never mind. They don't care if they suffocate you. 

The rhythm is rough and deep. He pushes his cock as deep as it can go inside of you, stretching your walls before he pulls back, only to restart the terrible cycle all over again. It's horrible. Excruciating, despite how slick your pussy is. Despite it all, you can't help but compare how differently Suguru and Satoru fucked you. 

Suguru's cock was thicker but wasn't as long. He was nicer, slow, only going when he knew you could take it. But back then, you didn't know Suguru's true intentions. You weren't aware of his sadism, the eagerness to rip you apart. Perhaps he was even worse than Satoru was. 

"Doesn't this feel good?" Suguru asks suddenly. His soft lips brush your cheek when you bury your face deeper into your couch. At least this time, he wasn't forcing you to face your unwanted assault head-on. You suppose you should feel grateful. 

But he's right. You hate that he's right. You get used to Satoru's rhythm eventually. When his cock brushes against something deep inside of you, you jolt around his dick, unable to stop yourself from squeezing your walls. Satoru hisses at that, but he barely falters. 

"Fuck fuck fuck," he's hissing, "squeezin' me so tight, gorgeous." 

He gropes at your tits, trying to give himself a reprieve from the sensation. You mirror him, squeezing your hands into fists, nails threatening to break skin. As if to comfort you, Suguru murmurs sweet nothings into your ear. 

Satoru's rhythm starts to falter. His breath hitches, indicating what's to come. His hands squeeze. His pace gets even rougher. Suguru frowns when you give a wilted moan, more pained than anything. 

"Satoru," he says, almost lecturing, "be nicer." 

When Satoru doesn't respond, Suguru is quick to retaliate. You flinch when he grabs Satoru's hair, yanking him away from your chest. Satoru whimpers. 

"'Can't help it—fuck, so fucking good." His voice is high and needy, juxtapositioning the crude way he's fucking himself into you, the way he's hiking a leg over his hip, driving himself even deeper inside your cunt. He starts drawing quick messy circles around your swollen clit. 

The angle proves to be enough to push you over the edge. You seize around his cock, spamming around him. Despite the harsh grip Suguru has on him, Satoru is quick to follow. He grits his teeth before something hot and horrible fills you. 

You stay like that, heaving in deep breaths. Satoru's breathing is labored too. He laughs, it sounds exhausted. You're helpless to do anything but comply when he grabs your chin to kiss you. It's messy, but not as rough as it was earlier. You're too exhausted to hate it. 

His cock slips out of you. His cum slips out, too, running down your thighs. You should be worried about it staining the carpet, but you're too out of it to think of anything. Suguru brushes Satoru's hair, looking satisfied. When Satoru has his fill of your lips, he pulls away. You catch his eyes. There's no unsatiable lust within them. Just warmth, as well as another emotion that makes you want to hurl. 

But it's over. It's finally over. It's the only part that keeps you from breaking apart. They'll leave. Leave you to cry in a corner while you pick up the pieces that were once you. 

Satoru tucks himself back in his pants. Suguru exhales in contentedness before he, too, rises from the couch. You wait for them to leave. 

They don't leave. 

With horrible gentleness, Suguru picks you up, corralling you into his chest. You whine when he moves your body, but you don't do much else. You can't. 

They share a laugh at your expense before he's carrying your broken, naked body up to the bedroom. It parallels the times when you were too tired to walk to the bedroom yourself. When Suguru was just a man you thought you could love. When you felt safe in his arms. 

Now you feel nothing but cold, despite how warm his hands are. 

He deposits you in the bed. Satoru comes up behind him, pulling an oversized shirt over your head. Their hands are uninterested in your body, working in tandem. 

The don't leave. 

You feel dirty and sticky. You're aching all over. You want to do nothing more but curl up in the hot shower and cry. They prevent that luxury from you too. The bed isn't big enough for all three of you, but they manage regardless. Satoru curls around you, sliding a hand across your back, bringing your face into your chest. You can feel Suguru settle in behind you, draping his hand across your waist. 

Someone kisses your temple. Someone yawns. 

They don't leave. 

You don't want to sleep. You feel like if you do you might not ever wake up from this nightmare. But your eyes are getting heavy, and for even a couple hours, you want to escape from thinking and hurting. 

"Isn't this nice?" Suguru says from behind, burying his face into your hair, he inhales deeply. 

"It'll always be like this from now on." He sounded relieved. Satoru hums in agreement. 

"All for you, baby," Satoru promises again, curling his hands tighter, "We're all for you."

Your heart drops to your stomach. 

That's what you were afraid of. 

𝓑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝓕𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃’𝐒 𝓑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑(𝓢)!

── SANO BROTHERS┊TOKYO REVENGERS

premise. emma sano’s brothers are off limits, no matter how much you want them— or how much they want you.

content. sano brothers / f!reader. smut. dark content. best friend’s older brother(s) trope. mini series : three parts. age gap (1, 4 and 10 years). reader has known the brothers since childhood. dubcon. manipulation / coercion. virginity loss. car sex. drug use (cigarettes). petnames. drummer!izana. pervert / creep!sano brothers. penetrative sex. no protection. alcohol. band!tenjiku. corruption. possessive behaviour.

more specific tags found in each fic’s description.

interactions & reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

¹new message from jia ෆ sano brothers have my heart btw

comment if you want to be on the taglist! (must be 18+)

── AM I YOUR TYPE, PRETTY? c. 2009

⌗ emma’s brother, manjiro sano : one year older.

content. smut. dubcon. alcohol. drunk / tipsy sex. car sex. unprotected sex. oral (m). manipulation ++. coercion. virginity loss. fingering (f). pervert!mikey. marking. slight childhood friends. edging. reader is shorter than mikey. praise &&. a little degradation.

you told emma your feelings for her older brother weren’t anything serious— but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?

── LET ME HEAR YOU SCREAM! c. 2011

⌗ emma’s brother, izana kurokawa : four years older.

content. smut. dubcon. unprotected sex. manipulation ++. coercion. hair pulling. fingering (f). pervert!izana. slight vouyerism &&. exhibitionism. marking. mild choking. nipple play. degradation ++. praise. riding. improper use of instruments. izana has a tongue piercing.

after mikey, you swore you would never fuck another one of emma’s brothers— but maybe one time with izana is okay. . . ?

── WE’RE NOT SLEEPING TONIGHT. c. 2015

⌗ emma’s brother, shinichiro sano : ten years older.

content. smut. dubcon. drug use. unprotected sex. manipulation ++. coercion. fingering (f). pervert!shinichiro. creampie. oral (f). doggy / prone bone. marking. praise. squirting. edging. overstimulation. service dom!shinichiro. tummy bulge. creampie / breeding kink. missionary.

shinichiro’s tactics won’t work on you now that you’ve been through his brothers, but who do you think they learned it from?

2024 © property of KZUHAE. all rights reserved. no reposts · plagiarism · ai usage · translations or promo outside of tumblr !! 𐚁

Wtf this is so disgusting i love it ❤️‍🩹

sought heaven in you (but i found hell)

↠  summary: Losing your older sister, Emma, took a toll on both you and your half-brother, Mikey. As children your relationship was estranged, but after running away and years passed, Mikey wasn't going to let you out of his grasp again. Even if it meant lending you out to other men for the sake of "protection."

↠  word count: 20,750

↠ pairing: sano manjiro x reader, slight kakucho x reader + bonten trio x reader

↠ genre/warnings: smut, angst, bonten au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, incest, sibling abuse, abuse of power, drugs, alcohol, emotional and sexual abuse/assault, sex work, blood, guns, slight suicidal thoughts, reader is described with having visual bruises. NSFW (NONCON, fingering, pussy slapping, mentioned fisting, spanking, belt used as leash, choking, bondage, riding, exhibitiobism/voyeurism, possessiveness, unprotected sex, little aftercare)

↠ a/n: this is for @killsaki's collab. also take this as an apology for disappearing for a month, i offer you nii-chan porn in exchange for forgiveness

Rattling breaths polluted the winter air. The oxygen shuttered in your chest as you quickened your footsteps. The awning of the train stop was right in view.

Flurries of snowflakes clouded your vision, highlighted by the street lamps that guided your path. Night blanketed you. Gripping the backpack in your stiff hands, you try as you may not to look over your shoulder. 

You never knew fear like this before and you clung onto it to remind you of why you were here, in the dead of the night. As if Fate was watching over you as you groaned in relief at the awning a step away, the click of a gun being cocked was right behind you.

“Don’t make this difficult, Y/n.”

CONCEPTION 

"Again?" A voice called.

Deep in the room where ruffled bed sheets are were a reminder as to why you were shaking. Your throat was tight and achy. This wasn't the first time a client got violent, but it was the first time they were able to get a hit in.

You clenched your eyes as their blood was still warm on your hands. The memory was hazy as one moment you were flirting with them and the next they had slammed you against the desk with taut hands. Eyes almost bulged out of your head as you scratched and spit to get him off you. With a free hand, you scrambled against the desk for anything to get them off. A book or even a paper weight would suffice, but your desperate fingers gripped onto a letter opener. 

The same primal, vicious instinct pulsed through you as the man killing you as you jammed the letter opener so far into his neck you heard the squelch of metal hitting tendons. He stumbled back in shock as he tried to cradle the wound as he rapidly bled out. His mouth was left agape just as yours. You cradled your throat as you coughed and greedily breathed in air. 

As he collapsed, you screamed so loud the sound still haunted the room. At that, Kakucho burst in. 

"What the fuck is going on?" He barked.

The scene in front of him answered his own question. He spied how you were still clutching your weapon, blood running down your hand from your forearm and the same red liquid splattered on your face. Your eyes were wide and terrified.

"He- I'm- He tried-" You stuttered out.

Kakucho went to the dying man and pulled him up. "You aren't getting out of this so easily."

You had no idea if those words were targeted towards you or the man. Whatever it was, Kakucho helped the man get medical attention. The blood leaving a stain on the expensive carpet was neglected.

More men filed into the room to clean up the mess with Kakucho instructing them to make sure the man was tended to. You stayed at the desk, not moving, not blinking and barely breathing. Time whizzed past you as Kakucho finally came to check on you. 

He took the letter opener from your hand. You let him pry open your twitching fingers, fluttering like a dead butterfly's wings. Gripping the side of your head, he directs your attention to him and not the tainted floor. Your pupils sluggishly met him, keeping your focus on his non-blind eye. By now, only you and Kakucho were in the room. Taking the opportunity to be alone with you, Kakucho held you to ground you back to Earth.

“You know this has to be reported to Mikey, right?”

Tears bubbled into your waterline, chest hiccupping. As the adrenaline crash was setting in so did the realization that you just fucked up an arms deal that was in the works for weeks now. You were doomed.

“Don’t tell Mikey,” you begged in spite of how raw your throat was.

Kakucho was about to open his mouth when a voice cut him off. 

“Don't tell me what?” 

Speak of the devil and he will arrive. Mikey came from behind Kakucho standing in the doorway. Sometimes you think he does this on purpose as punishment, punishment that it was Emma and not you. You peer over to him from where he stands in the doorway. Despite his small frame, his presence polluted and took up the area.

No matter what you did, you could never rid yourself of him. 

Kakucho drew himself away from you and let Mikey take the reins. The smaller man crossed the room to stand just where Kakucho was. Taking the hint, he left you and your older brother alone. Your eyes bounced to him, suffocating the pleading expression. 

Leering back at Mikey, you slouch more against the desk so he had more of a height advantage. He liked you small. The dark circles were a harsh purple against his dulling skin. You remembered the days when his complexion was a healthy tan with a pinky flush. Mikey was a mere shell of the man he used to be. 

His slender but encompassing hand, held your chin smearing the blood deeper into your pores. Tilting your head to the left and then the right, he was silent while he observed your darkening bruise. You were sure it was an ugly red. Assessing the damage, his fingers glided against the flesh and you whimpered in pain. The wound was still very much raw and your larynx was aching. 

Sighing, he stopped poking at it since you proceeded to flinch. “Someone bring ice!” He hollered into the hallway.

Turning back to you, his hand went down to stroke up and down your shoulders. The motion brought no comfort. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you rasped.

Mikey didn’t seem to believe you, but decided to drop it since you were so dazed. He couldn’t get any information out of you when you were like this. 

“He won’t be allowed back here again, so don’t worry about that.” 

The words were meant to bring you solace, but like his touch, it only set you more on edge. You weren’t worried about that. You were terrified you would have to go back. You were sick of this job. You never wanted to in the first place.

What Mikey harbored for you wasn't love and you were sure of it. He never cared for you as an older brother should. For the promise of a done deal, he would sell you to the highest bidder. After the death of your sister, Emma, his leash was incredibly tight.

You were only about five years old when you met Mikey. Taken to the Sano household after you had met Emma first, you had hid behind her leg in fear. You were a secret as you were proof of your father's infidelity. One time was a mistake, but twice was a pattern. Though the cat was out of the bag when your mother stopped being able to afford your care and had to beg the Sano household for help. 

For a year, you would have supervised visits with her, usually at parks, so you had a stable pillar to lean on when you were uprooted from your old home. You were always a shy child. Understanding how scary it was to be told you had a whole other family, six year old Emma took you under her wing. You two were thick as thieves, though when she hung out with Mikey you always hung back.

Even as a young child you could tell that the older boy never did like you. Or at least you thought. Once out of ear shot Mikey would ask Emma why you always avoided him. She would merely shrug, just as confused as him. Both of them were a lot more outgoing than you. When Mikey would bring around his friends even as you grew older, you would offer a small wave before barricading yourself in your room. 

They tried their damnedest to befriend you though it felt like trying to trick a feral kitten out of hiding with treats. Eventually you would join them in the living room when you could sit next to Emma. Mitsuya and Draken were usually the ones to get you out of your shell the most. Offering no words but they did extend your favorite snack they got at a convenience store, Mikey would watch in envy. 

You had been there that night, following Emma. After her death whatever petals that blossomed had shriveled and curled in on themselves. You barely talked and barely ate. Nothing could fill your stomach so you starved, cold from the lack of her warmth. Though she did not leave. She was everywhere, deep in the wallpaper and woven into the fibers of the couch. Her ghost refused to leave the house.

Both you and Mikey were cracking. In the hospital was the first time you two had touched each other. You sobbed into his arms all night long as he shoved his head into your hair. He gripped you so hard you swore he was trying to crawl his way into your ribcage. And at the time, you would have let him. Anything to fill the ache. Draken could only watch sorrowfully. After that night, nothing was the same nor would it ever be. 

The whisperings at school and how Toman tried their best to talk to you, grated your ears. For the first time in your life, you were angry. Not a childish anger or simple annoyance. You were enraged and everything was too loud. The sad looks filled to the brim with pity poured into your mouth until you were forced to swallow the false pleasantries. There are so many ‘my condolences’ a person can take.

What broke the most was how Mikey stared at you with such contempt and longing. You knew that he only saw Emma. Your silhouette haunted the home and you both knew you would never be her. He began bringing you to gang meetings. Where Mikey was, you were sure to be tethered to him. 

Your hands were sticky with the glue you tried to hold yourself together with for your family. Mikey had known her longer and had been so protective of her, the love he had for her was something you couldn’t fulfill. As the weeks passed, he must have come to the realization as well. He grew meaner and colder. Your brother abandoned clinging to you and pushed you so far you meshed into the walls with her. 

The house was tense and it was like walking on eggshells. Any word you spoke was met with a glare and scoff. There was no escape from him as you both attended the same middle school. His icy demeanor stuck to your skin, pulling would only rip away a layer of flesh. 

You could tell the words clenched behind his teeth; it should have been you and not her. For the first time in years, you agreed with him. So a few months later, you packed your bags, leaving a letter on your bed and hopped out your bedroom window. Thank God you were on the first floor. With the little money you had from doing odd jobs, you bought a train ticket as far from Tokyo as possible. With a stroke of luck you were able to find your estranged grandmother who took you in, residing deep in the countryside.

You couldn’t stand watching Mikey destroy everything with his stupid middle school gang. You lost what mattered most because of him, the angrier part of you raged. Though as you got older you stopped blaming him. Maybe if you were more vengeful you would have sought out Hanma or Kisaki for murdering your sister when you fled into the night, but you were too exhausted for such emotion.

When Mikey saw you again he swore he was dreaming or he didn’t get enough rest. He doesn’t sleep much nowadays. Years had passed since he found your letter. He had read and reread it over and over until the words finally sunk in. The immature part of him wanted to scream and cry. In hysterics, he ran to Draken’s home with the letter and wailed to him that they had to find you. What if Kisaki or Hanma found you? How dare you leave him, you were his like everyone else in his life. He already lost Emma and now you? Something finally snapped inside him that day.

Though he honored your wishes and left you alone. Mikey was out with his men when you passed by him like a wayward butterfly, he knew that this was a sign that you were meant to be in his grasp again. You had grown so much since the last time he saw you. Unsurprisingly since you were thirteen when you ran away. Your hair was longer and dyed a different color, you were so beautiful and it stung that he never got to watch you grow up with him. He had no clue you were back in Tokyo or if you left at all. He immediately asked Kakucho to track where you are and your routine. 

Sickness festered inside him when he found out you worked a humble desk job, frequenting a bar with your male coworkers, laughing boisterously with them. None of those men could care for you like your big brother could. 

As giddiness built in Mikey, an uneasiness settled into you.

When you arrived at your apartment late in the evening, something was amiss. The door was unlocked when you spun the knob. A shiver ran up your spine, you always locked it along with the two extra locks you put just in case. 

Exhaling a shaky breath you reach for the small handgun you had in your handbag. The possession was highly illegal, but you abused the ties you had to Mikey to obtain it. You weren’t ignorant to what your half-brother got himself into. Steeling yourself, you pushed open the door and walked inside. There was no use to run since if they found out where you live, they would only follow. 

Holding your gun out, you side stepped into the pitch black to the light switch. Before you got there the living room light flicked on by itself. You whipped around to see your older brother stand in the space. 

You sagged your shoulders and dropped the gun to your side, still clutched onto it. 

“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” Mikey’s tone was bored. 

He looked a lot skinnier than the last time you saw him and his hair was completely different.

“More like relieved it's just you.”

He pointed his head towards your gun, “Why do you have that?”

“Protection,” Was your reply, still on edge. Yes you were glad it was him and not a stranger, but you weren’t stupid or blind to what he has become. 

Mikey embarked towards you and you backed away, scared of what he was capable of and why he broke into your home. You can’t imagine it's for a long awaited family reunion. 

“What do you want, Manjiro?”

“Can’t a brother visit his dear, baby sister?” 

With each word he stepped closer to you until you were backed into a corner. Stumbling over your still heel clad feet, you two fell into a twisted rhythm. The door was still in sight and your focus ricocheted to the escape route. Keeping him at arm's length, you raised your gun at the unwavering man.

“Get away from me.”

His eyes were dead and showed no emotion as he twisted the gun out of your grasp. You yelped at the pain shooting up your wrist as he locked your arm. If he applied a little more pressure the bone would surely break. 

He tugged you close to him until you were almost nose to nose, “Do you think a gun would protect you against any of the men who want your head on a platter? I never remembered you being this naive.”

“Because you didn’t know me,” You spat out. 

“Bullshit, I know everything about you and I know that if I let you stay in this apartment for one more night then it won’t be only me that will pay you a visit. Kisaki is still out there, you know?”

You glanced back down at the gun but he kicked it even farther away, “You are not going to uproot my life because you deem it fit. I don’t need you.” 

He brought a hand to your face and gently cradled it as you glared at him, “I don’t think I asked.”

Mikey released you from his hold to shove you onto the couch. Hugging the offending wrist to your chest, you rubbed out the pain the best you could. A new man comes into your agape door with a certain swagger to him. His hair was a deep black and a middle part that reached about his ears. One of his eyes was a foggy hue with a scar framing it. It only served to make him more handsome. 

He made himself at home within your apartment, immediately helping Mikey to pack all your belongings. 

“I’m Kakucho,” He introduced himself as he put the bag down near you. Mikey could be heard ruffling through your shit in the background.

“Fuck you,” You replied, pissed that Mikey dragged you back into this life. He laughed at your response and the corner of your lip quirked up, but you stifled it. He was attractive, you will give him that, but you refused to fall for his demeanor and sharp grin. 

Before you could dwell on the man in front of you, Mikey ushered you out of the apartment and into the car waiting for you three at the back of the building. The model was obviously something expensive, but it did nothing to impress you. Your bags were put in the trunk while you were shoved in between the two men. There were two other men in the front, the one driving seemed familiar. 

How Bonten had not been caught was beyond you with the mansion they all lived in. They obviously were flexing their wealth, but you assumed the police were being bought out so they didn’t care. The halls billowed as you were toiled to where Mikey wanted you. 

He burst open a door to what you presumed is his office. He sat behind the desk in a fancy office chair while you were forced onto the lavish, leather seat. You stared at each other before your brother finally spoke. 

“I want you to be a hostess at the Haitani Brothers’ clubs,” he raised a hand to stop your protests, “All I need is for you to butter up clients. Nothing more than a little touching and drinking with them. You will be guarded the whole time.”

“Are you serious, you want to whore me out to gangsters? You’re out of your mind!”

“Watch your tone,” His timbre was plain, but his irises flashed with something violent.

“You don’t get to try to act like a respectable older sibling now.”

“This isn’t up for discussion, this is to ensure your safety.”

You laughed out a scoff, “Yeah, safety. If you wanted me to be safe, you would have stayed the fuck out of my life.”

You shot out of your seat and flipped him the bird when he yelled at you to come back like a father herding an insolent toddler. You exited out of his office and passed by Kakucho who hooks a hand around your arm. “Hey, hey, hey, where are you going?”

“Let me go before I scream.” A glare was stamped deep on your forehead.

“That will only bring men who aren’t as nice as me.”

You raised a brow at that. 

“Look, I know Mikey doesn’t seem like he has the best intentions, but for the past few years, you don’t know how much he talked about you. He missed you.”

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, confused and uncomfortable. What choice did you have?

EGG

The ability to speak again came back a couple days later. A bruise stayed heavy on your throat, wrapped in semi-permanent handprints, you tried your hardest not to stray on your reflection. Purple and red bloomed from the wound and were quite tender. Despite this, you were offered little sympathy. 

Within a dark corner of the back of one of the Haitani brothers’ clubs, Kakucho tried to offer some pity. Your face was twisted into an ugly expression from the anxiety. Clutching your arms so tight that your nails left indents in the fragile flesh, you lifted your head to him. 

“I don’t think I can do this.”

He only sighed with sadly pinched eyebrows.

At the sound, your voice hitched, “Don’t make me do this, Kakucho.”

“You know that I can’t do anything about it.”

You gripped at his shirt and you tried not to break apart as you wheezed out, “Have you ever even tried.”

He clutched your cheeks between his fingers, “Me even thinking about it will have both our heads. I may be number three but I am not as powerful as you think I am.”

You rested your head on his chest, “I know.”

And you do, you were not ignorant to the fact that you and Kakucho being as close as you are is a risk in of itself. Though, you took the leap, hugged the one bit of kindness of this world close to your aching chest. 

He lifted your head and extracted you from him, “We both have a job to do. Let's just get through tonight.”

Agreeing, you towed yourself from him and steeled yourself. With a bleeding heart, you departed from him and rounded the corner to the door into the back of the club. Even in the back hallways of the club, the smell of smoke crowded your lungs. The bass of the music was a soft thumping, comforting you. The walls were illuminated with an orange watercolor like finish. A haze clouded your vision. 

Free of any human interaction, you make it into your private room. Here was where you got ready and welcomed clients to your misfortune. The room was on the bigger side, complete with a velvet couch, an ottoman and a classic style vanity. It all screamed old Hollywood. 

Amongst the furniture was the very last person you wanted to see. Leaning against your vanity table was Sanzu. He was clad in his usual purple pinstripe suit without the blazer. His arms were crossed, posture that of a disapproving parent. You instantly tensed.

“Where’s Ran?” You asked as he was the one that told you your clients.

He didn’t respond to you. Further on edge, you spied how he beckoned you over with a curl of his finger. Tethered to the palm of his hand, you walked over. Crossing the room in about ten steps, you stand before the lanky man. In front of him, you shivered at how in spite of his slouched stance, he towered over you.

This close, you could see how his dilated pupils ate up the beautiful blue. The man stayed silent and so did you. You watched each other as he parts an arm from the tangle and dragged a hand up your arm. Swallowing the shutter, your arm broke out in goosebumps as his fingers glided up to your shoulder and to your neck. You winced when he pressed a thumb into the healing skin. 

Gently, he traveled to your nape and stroked the baby hairs. Not before twisting the long fingers deep in your tendrils and wrenched your head so far back you screamed and scrambled to grab the offending wrist. 

His visage was thunderous as he pulled your face close to his, “You are not going to fuck this up, you are already on thin fucking ice, you hear me?”

Eyes clenched, you could barely respond from the agony. He jostled you and tears strung your eyes, but he didn’t care. 

“Look at me.”

Terrified of what he would do, you opened your eyes. Sanzu’s features were blurry from the water, but the pleasure he got from this was prevalent. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he shoved you as close to him as possible. The man rubbed his bulge against your crotch. Of course he was getting off to this. Trying to ignore the motion, you stared up at him with pinched eyebrows. Something crossed between a glower and a dejected expression. 

“I love how pathetic you look like this.”

The freak proceeded to lick up the tears that cascaded down your cheeks. You squirmed and whined in his suffocating embrace, hating the slimy tongue against your skin. 

Already bored of you rejecting his little game, he pushed you away from him. With the pressure, you stumbled into the ottoman in the middle of the room. You peered up at him with unbridled hatred, but there was nothing you could do and he was well aware of the fact.

“Behave or else that bruise around your throat will be the least of your problems.”

With that he walks out and slams the door closed. You glimpsed up at the vanity to see the mascara streaks on your cheeks and your ruffled hair. A screech pierced through the air as you pounded a fist against the seat before composing yourself and stared at yourself in the mirror, getting lost in the reflection.

Like Kakucho said, you have a job to do.

A voice towed you from your thoughts. Oh yeah, a few hours had passed. Your reflection met you once again except you were far away from the private room. Here, you were in Mikey's bedroom. He rarely used the room unless he wanted something from you. In the full length mirror, you stared at the woman clad in a pretty dress. Tonight was a blur and you welcomed the cloudy feeling, the less you remember the better.

From behind, Mikey approached your form. Brief eye contact was exchanged as he put his hands on your bare upper arms. The warmth had you shutter, but you almost drifted into him. 

“Arms up,” He spoke into the tense air.

Like a dog, you obeyed. His fingers brushed against the hem as he pulled the dress over your head. Deliberately, he leaned the garment against the chair near the open, walk-in closet. Your arms were heavy lead as they dropped back down to your sides. 

Mikey crossed back to your stagnant form. His eyes drank up your almost naked silhouette, unable to keep his touch to himself. Kissing your bare shoulder, he whispered in the flesh, “My pretty girl.”

You shuddered.

Still watching each other through the glass, Mikey turned his focus to the man-made collar decorating your throat. His hand traveled to the bruise and brushed against it. The pain was dull. As your brother bore into you, you had half the mind to cover yourself, but it would only offend him. 

“Let’s go to bed.”

Every time he uttered those words, a part of you withered. Mikey was a possessive man by nature. Despite him being the one to force you into this profession, he would always satisfy the need to conquer. 

You merely nodded as you laid in the soft bed sheets curated just for you. He was quick to cover his body with yours. The stark difference of you only in panties compared to him still fully dressed was humbling. You were vulnerable. 

Your hair pooled around your head like a halo. His own strands curtained around you, framing his face so it was all you saw. If Mikey had it his way, that is exactly what would be your own world. Him. 

In a sense, he already was. 

One arm bracketed your head while the other reached to cup your bare breast. His thumb circled the nipple. Your breath hitched as he toyed with the sensitive flesh until it pebbled. A yelp left you when he pinched your nipple. You squirmed, hating how he did it only to elicit a reaction. The corner of your brother’s lip quirked up. 

“I won’t torture you too much tonight,” He spoke against your lips.

“Please.”

You didn’t want this to last longer than needed. He loved to take his time with you. To pull every reaction and sound from you until you were sapped dried. 

He kept circling your nipple as he slotted his crotch more firmly against yours. Impatient, Mikey rubbed himself into your warming pussy. Bending down, he kissed your temple. Moving in tandem with him, you bucked into the growing bulge. He was so much different from Sanzu in this regard where he still hasn’t fucked you. The taller man couldn’t say the same. 

Becoming bored of toying with your breast, his hand trailed down the length of your rib cage down to your hip bone. Mikey fully pulled away so he sat on his heels. Wanting better access, both hands went to the lacy hem of your pale pink panties. His thumbs hooked around the fabric and lugged down. The fabric was easily torn away. Like unwrapping a present, he ripped the undergarment completely off you. Gentle when it caught on your ankles, pulling your legs up to gain access. Your brother kissed the bone. 

Sliding his palms down, he cupped them underneath the juncture and pushed your knees to your chest. Those inky irises bored into your bare cunt. A mix between the brief pleasure and the humiliation, your pussy glistened. 

“Fuck, you look so tight. I have no clue how with how slutty your pussy is,” His tone stayed bored but with a breathy edge to it. 

When you didn’t acknowledge his words, he released one of your legs to slap your clit. Crying out, you attempted to close your legs but his mass made it impossible. You whined at the pain and he did it again. Your clit tingled and was swollen. 

“I’m talking to you, pretty girl.”

“S-sorry,” You whined out, not knowing what to respond to.

He only hummed and became transfixed on your clenching cunny. “Let’s see how tight you are.”

Mikey twirled your bundle of nerves a few times before guiding two fingers into your hole. Already wet, he was able to slip in with ease. You moaned, welcoming something filling you. Even if it was him. You gave up a long time ago fighting him and trying to get him to see reason, to see how wrong this all was. 

“You’re sucking me in, pretty girl.”

Whining in response, you wiggled your hips for him to move. He huffed a laugh at your impatience. Ignoring you, Mikey went at his own pace. His fingers curled upwards to rub the spongy spot inside you. He was meticulous with how he brought you pleasure. Every nerve was on fire and played with. 

Smothering you again, he leaned down so he was nose to nose. You were completely surrounded and displayed for him. Breath mixing, you moaned for him. If it was anyone else the gesture would be loving—romantic, sweet. All it did was leave a bitter taste stuck to the back of your teeth like plaque.

Picking up the pace, he thrusted his fingers with more fervor. 

“Can you handle more?”

“Yes,” You broke out.

Glaring down at you, he slowed down, “Yes, what?”

Embarrassed, you looked away for a moment before whispering, “Yes, Manjiro-nii.”

“Good girl.” He smiled—such a rarity these days—ramming his fingers faster once again.

You gripped the bed sheets as he added another finger to the mix. He scissored the appendages, splitting you further. You had no clue how much more you could take. Bucking to his rhythm, you whined wanting him to touch your neglected clit. It twitched and was still puffy from the slaps. 

“Please!”

You both knew what you wanted but he steamrolled past your want. He needed to ruin you especially for your clients. You were his. His to break and tear apart until your sloppy cunt was perfect for just him. 

Mikey added his pinky to the rest of his fingers and you almost screamed at how you were pried gaping. His fingers were slender but still bigger than yours. Long enough to easily reach your g-spot while you scrambled to brush and pound into it like he does. 

“Doing so well, maybe one day I can shove my whole hand inside. Completely ruin you for anyone else,” His words meshed into your lips.

Gazing into him, you tilted your head so your lips brushed together more. Taking the hint, he crashed into you. Whimpering, he slotted his rosy flesh into yours, kissing you feverishly. Your arms came up to grab the sides of his shirt. Mikey finally touched your clit again. You almost screamed when he rubbed circles into the bundle of nerves, tittering you close to the edge. 

He abandoned your leg to grip your cheeks, parting from your lips. His eyes went to between your legs to watch how you were taking four of his fingers. A dark patch imprinted on the bed from your slick. Prodding at your spongy spot again along with pressing harder into your clit was too much, you came with a high pitched moan. You were sure everyone in the manor heard it and no one cared. Everyone knew what your brother did to you in the dark. 

Mikey guided you through your orgasm, slowing his thrusts until they came to a complete stop. After a moment, he pulled his fingers from your cunt. Your pussy clenched and you whined at becoming empty again.

Your chest stuttered as you tried to gain your breath. Mikey got up to grab a towel nearby and wiped his hand and then between your legs. You flinched from the rough material against the sensitive flesh. He said nothing.

Throwing the rag somewhere in the room, your brother came to lie next to you. He hauled you into his chest and you didn’t refuse. There was no point in fighting. You felt like an egg hatched too early, premature to find your footing. Otherwise, why do you follow a man that wants nothing but the worst for you?

LARVA

You were so sick of the sight of green. Never privy to Spring or Summer, you welcomed Winter’s bitter air with open arms. Though, the bruise was fading into a greenish hue with splotches of purple mixed in. Such a green so unnatural, you couldn’t even compare it to a full apple tree. Subconsciously, you rubbed the skin.

Humming, you idly get ready for bed, already dressed in silk sleepwear. The past week Mikey had neglected you and you savored it. He went through bursts where you weren’t even a thought in his head. A darker part of your mind hoped he would completely forget you. Maybe in a freak accident (you possibly took part in) or he simply got too busy and stayed in his damn office. 

As Mikey was preoccupied with whatever gang business, you were back in the full swing of hostess work. There were a few regulars ornery you weren’t available for sleeping with but anytime they got too rowdy, Rindou was sure to give them a firm ‘talking to.’ Rindou was an enigma to you. He was your least favorite of the two brothers, but he never complained when beating up piggish men. 

You weren’t stupid enough to think it was any sentiment towards you, but more bloodlust being fulfilled. Rindou was a lot meaner than his older counterpart. While Ran was not a stranger to being touchy and a tease, Rindou was rough with handling you. You often dreaded when Rindou was in charge at the club instead of Ran. At least he pretended to care. 

Sometimes, you would imagine Draken instead of Ran as in some twisted way he reminded you of the old friend. Those moments were when you had too much to drink. It still brought you solace, to pretend. You did that a lot. 

A knock interrupted you. Your heart skipped a happy beat at the noise. There was only one person in the whole manor who offered you the courtesy. Sitting in front of your personal vanity, you fluffed your hair.

“Come in,” You tried your best to stifle the giddiness. 

In came Kakucho not out of his day clothes yet. He wore a dark, silk dress shirt, unbuttoned so his chest was on full display. Your eyes drank up the rippling muscle. The clearing of his throat removed you from the sight. Knowing you were caught, you met his eyes and he gave you a sly grin.

“Subtle.”

“What do I owe the pleasure?” You asked, ignoring his taunt.

“Can I not check on my boss’ most prized possession?”

He walked closer to you as you angled your focus back to yourself in the mirror. Taking a cotton pad from the pack, you finish wiping off the rest of your makeup. It had been a long day. Kakucho came to stand right behind you. Your head was just under his chest while sitting. You felt so small as he crowded you. 

Usually you would shake him off, but Kakucho wasn’t stupid. He would visit you in your room where no one would go down the wing you resided in, on the complete opposite of Mikey’s office and bedroom. Sticking closely to the night’s shroud so no one saw him enter.

You scoffed at his words, “Don’t call me that.”

“Hmm,” He hummed, not really listening as he brought a hand down to your neck.

You shivered as his gentle fingers brushed against the tarnished skin. Softer than the rest of the men who touch you—for once, the wound wasn’t agitated. His hand was warm. Kakucho swallowed up your neck, guarding it from any further attack. The weight was safe. 

“It’s quite unfortunate that Mikey wouldn’t let me kill him.”

He moved his palm to idly stroke the bruise, transfixed. You gawked at him in the mirror, but he stayed focused on the blemish. 

“Please don’t kill for me.”

“So I can kill in general?”

You murmured, “You know that I can’t tell you what to do.”

“Good girl.”

You shivered at the words, “Kakucho…”

He tilted your head back by your chin and rested the rest of his hand on your throat so it was against his stomach and he looked down at you, “Yes?”

“Don’t say things like that.”

His eyebrow quirked up, “Didn’t you just say that you can’t tell me what to do?”

You shook your head to free his hold on you. His taunts were becoming too much. You might be in your bedroom, but who knows who could walk in even when he’s being careful. Reluctantly, you departed from him and attempted to step away from the cushioned stool. You didn’t make it too far when he grabbed the crook of your elbow and spun you around to confront him. Shocked and dizzy, your hands went to his chest to gain some balance. 

The skincare and makeup bottles cluttered when he lifted you up on the vanity table. Giving you no time to protest, he crashed into you. Parting your legs, he sank himself into you and pulled you as close as possible. Your lips moved in a familiar rhythm. You whined into the force of the kiss, but you weren’t complaining.

He clutched onto your waist, his hands swallowing you. As if life was mocking you, the sound of your door being kicked in rattled your eardrums. Stood in the doorway was Sanzu, the very last person you wanted to see besides Mikey. 

Fear crawled up your spine at the glimmer in his eyes. There was no way for you to explain your way out of this one. Kakucho rapidly stepped away from you. You slipped off the vanity and wiped your mouth as tears bubbled up. In every sense, you were fucked.

Sanzu bounced from Kakucho to you. His features screamed the cat that got the cream. He was elated and he was making it known with the smile of mischief and hatred stretched on his lips.

“Mikey wants everyone to meet up, now.”

With that he walked away, not even closing the door behind him. You ignored Kakucho as he attempted to console you. There was one thing on your mind. Chasing Sanzu who was already halfway down the hall, your feet were quickened patters. 

“Sanzu, Sanzu!” You whispered-yelled until you caught up and stood in front of him. Arms spread wide, you tried to stop his path. To humor you, he ceased his movement. “Don’t tell Mikey.”

A grin broke out on his face as he leered down upon you, “Oh yeah and why not? Boss sure is not gonna be happy with you or Kakucho, he might even be mad enough to kill him.”

At that you clutched onto his shirt, knees buckling, “Sanzu, please, I am begging.”

His hand pets the top of your head before wrenching your head back by the hair on the nape of your neck. You gripped harder on his shirt.

“What’s in it for me?” His voice was dripping with temptation. “I will do anything! Please, I promise, anything you want I will do it.” Tears were streaming down your face.

He stroked a thumb under your eye as the tears flowed, “Anything?”

You nodded despite the hand holding you down. He stared at you for a bit before shoving you away from him.

“Fine, I will hold you to that.”

“Thank you! Thank you,” You sobbed.

He clutched onto your shoulder while steering you to the meeting room, “Don’t thank me just yet.”

The hand and the promise was your leash. Being near Sanzu always had set you on edge as this isn’t the first time he took advantage of you. Gulping down the anxiety, you let him guide you. Further down the hall, Kakucho’s footsteps followed you both. In no time, he was barely a foot behind you, but you didn’t move your head. 

The room greeted you. Sanzu held his grip as you both walked in. An oval shaped table filled the room and Mikey sat at the head like a king, chin resting on intertwined fingers. If Sanzu’s clutch bothered him, he displayed no indication of it. 

You were beckoned to his side, Sanzu in toe. He rolled out the chair for you and shoved you into the seat. Pushing the chair so far in, you stifled the grunt as the edge crushed your rib cage. Sanzu ignored you as he took the spot to your right. 

Kakucho walked in and placed himself in front of you at the table. Even with the distance, you shrank at his presence. He tried his best not to stare too hard. 

The other men filed in with Ran sitting next to Sanzu and Rindou next to his brother. Kokonoi sits next to Kakucho with Mochizuku sitting next to him and Takeomi sits next to him, being as far from his younger brother as possible. They were all dressed in fancy suits, compared to you in silk pajamas. If you weren’t out of place enough already. You were rarely let in on meetings, so you were confused. 

All heads pivoted to Mikey from the sound of his lips parting like on a timed rig. It was quite creepy how synced they all were. 

“As you all know that the current governor is retiring,” He paused as the men nodded, “And he has two candidates of whom he will be offering his position to. Either his son or Tadashi Yuma, a man well known to oppose Bonten. At the current moment, the governor is favoring Mr. Tadashi so as to not be accused of nepotism.”

As he continued to speak, you were only more perplexed. How does elected officials have to do with Bonten and more specially you?

“And what does this have to do with us?” Sanzu asked flippantly, taking the words right from your brain. The man next to you rested his hand on his chin, staring at Mikey with boredom. His other hand crossed the boundary of the chair into yours. Your leg wobbled when his cold palm cupped your knee. You dared not turn your head towards him, instead keeping it down. 

“Everything. Tadashi is too far gone to persuade, but the son is both buddy-buddy with the police and known for doing back alley dealing.” “Everyone has their vices,” Takeomi piped while he plucked a cigarette, earning a giggle from Ran. 

Mikey sent a glare to the men before continuing, “If we get the son on our side, we would both have a governor as our puppet ruler and complete control of the police force in Kyoto. This would secure our position further.”

“And where does she fit into all of this?” Rindou questioned, pointing at you with a limp hand. 

“If you let me speak, I could fucking tell you.” 

As Mikey droned on, Sanzu got more bold and slithered his hand further up your thigh. Your hands were balled into fists at your side. You knew better than to make a scene. 

At the aggressive tone, Rindou raised his hands in a surrender, not too bothered. Mikey glimpsed at you and you hoped your expression didn’t betray your discomfort. His gaze conveyed nothing besides you being his focal point for his next sentence. 

“This is where she comes in. A couple days from now there will be a gala with politicians and gangsters alike. The rest of us will keep on the downlow while she will do what she does best with the governor’s son.”

You tried your best to listen and nod along as this was not a mission you could mess up on. Sanzu’s wandering hand made it difficult. He moved up your thigh until his pinky was brushing the band of your panties through your thin pants. As his smallest digit went to stroke your slit, he voiced, “She already messed up once, how do you know she won’t do it again?” 

Mikey wasn’t ignorant to how your jaw clicked at his mockery. Your nose twitched in irritation and how his finger rubbed up and down your pussy. 

“She won’t,” He glowered at Sanzu and then at you, “isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes, Mikey,” You stuttered out. 

To anyone else, they would have thought it was because of fear, but you and Sanzu knew better. He did nothing to hide his shit-eating grin. As the focus was no longer on you, he took the incentive to bring a hand down the stretchy band of your pajamas and shove his hand down to cup your bare pussy. Scared, you gripped his wrist to pull it from you. In retaliation, he pinched your clit. Your back slightly hunched, stifling the whimper.

You peeped at him with watery eyes, but his face showed only boredom and focused on Mikey. When you loosened your grip on arm, he eased up. His fingers twirled your clit, a lot rougher than Mikey was. Sanzu poured his hate into you whenever he toyed with you. You have no clue what you did to piss him off, but God were you paying for it. 

Dipping into your syrupy cunt, Sanzu shoved two fingers in and curled upwards. Your legs quivered at the stimulation and you sucked your lips in. If you released even a peep, everyone would hear, especially Mikey. And more importantly, Kakucho. At the thought of the man, you peered up to see him but luckily, he was too engrossed in whatever Mikey was explaining. 

Sanzu brutally thrust his fingers in and out of you. The squelching was faint and you prayed no one heard over the sound of their boss’ voice. His palm was firm against your clit, but offered little pleasure. A part of you wanted to whine, but you reeled the needy sound in. You'd rather die than let Sanzu know how much he was affecting you. 

Your legs squeezed together when he found the spongy spot inside you. He drove his fingers further to abuse the spot. Digging your nails into his wrist, you bucked your hips slightly. Jaw clenched so tight it hurt, you looked up to make eye contact with Mikey. Icy fear washed over you. Luckily the other men were too deep in conversation to notice how Mikey was fixated on your form. You turned away, face warm as he probably knew what Sanzu was doing under the table. Said man only grinned wider. 

You dared to observe Kakucho whose nostrils flared. He was trying hard not to appear affected and you prayed he could school his expression as you were both in deep shit with Sanzu knowing. Embarrassed and wanting this to be done, you wiggled your hips to catch your clit against his palm. Sanzu was not having it as he pulled his palm away from your reach. You were tempted to stomp your feet in frustration. 

“Dismissed,” Mikey’s demand had your back bolt straight up.

Everyone in the room aside you, Mikey and Sanzu moved to get up. Once the men were at the doorway did Sanzu dislocate his fingers from your soaking cunt. He wiped his fingers against your pants and whispered in your ear, “Remember your promise, Whore.”

At that, he departed with the rest of the men. Only you and Mikey remained, and you refused to peer up. Humiliation rocked you to the core and tears built up behind your eyes. 

“Y/n,” he called. 

You look up to him. Mikey slid his chair from under the table and tapped his thigh. Completely and utterly violated and shaking in fear, you launch yourself in his lap. You straddled his hips as he pulled you tight to him. Your brother gripped the back of your head to cradle your face into the juncture of his neck. His free hand rested on your lower back, stroking the exposed skin where your shirt rode up. 

Hugging his shoulders, you collapsed into him. You let yourself melt into him, molding together until where he started and you stopped was blurred.

“Nervous?”

Your breath tickled his neck, “Yes.”

He hummed at the answer as he gently swayed the chair side to side, rocking you like a baby. He seemed lost in his thoughts. As he swung you both back and forth idly, his grip on your head grew increasingly tighter. When his nails dug into your scalp did you whimper. If he squeezed any tighter, your head would surely pop like a balloon. His strength terrified you. 

“Does Sanzu visit you frequently?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Manjiro-nii, I-I’m sorry,” You tacked on the honorific to appease him, but he only shushed you.

“You’re both mine, as long as you know your places, I wouldn’t punish you,” you clutch onto him tighter, “you know I do this all to protect you, right?”

His words hinted to the threat of Kisaki coming for you, too. A threat he planted in your head for years now. And of course, he wouldn’t do anything about Sanzu touching you, it was a pipe dream. 

“Yes, Manjiro-nii.”

“Good girl, my good little doll.” 

CHRYSALIA

You swallowed your nausea, sitting next to Mikey in the car. The model was one of those fancy ones with a divider between the front of the car and the backseat to offer more privacy. Driving the car was Kakucho while Sanzu was in the passenger seat. When the cars were distributed, Sanzu raced to be in the car with you present in it. You knew damn well he was doing it to torment you, and Kakucho being the driver was the frosting on top of the cake. 

Sat behind Kakucho, you stared out the tinted window, wringing your hands in your lap. A hand placed on top of yours halted you picking at your cuticles. Mikey ogled at you, a question on his visage. Your eyes lept to the rearview mirror where Kakucho glanced at you and then back to the road. 

Sighing, Mikey slammed the divider closed. In the back of the car, you two were the only ones in the world. The thought was isolating. A part of you wanted to embrace the expensive, Italian leather of the car and luxury this life offered. But the larger, more logical part screamed to be anywhere but here. 

“Why are you so nervous?” He dared to ask.

Your nostrils flared, “Why the fuck do you think?”

Anger getting the best of you was a rare feat, but not one Mikey tolerated. His grip went from reassuring to punishing. You whined at your bones grinding together. You attempted to extract yourself, but he tugged you closer to him, your hand landing on the middle seat to catch yourself. 

“Watch your tone.”

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you grimace away from him, glaring at the damn leather. He was quick to grab your face to enforce eye contact. His eyes were blank as usual. Dark circles lined his lower lashline. Mikey appeared older than his age. In a fleeting rebellion, you scowled at him with your cheeks clenched in his strong hands. It offered nothing to the older man. 

“What you’re asking of me is grandeur, way too much,” You spoke your grievance to a deity who didn’t care to listen. 

“I am asking you exactly what I think you can do.”

“Then you think too highly of me,” Your tone was meek. 

His thumb went down to rub against your irritated bottom lip, “Maybe.” Mikey’s focus went from your lips to your neck. The bruise was clearing up to an ugly yellowish-green. The pain was also subsiding, only truly hurting if you pressed down hard enough. “Is it healed enough to cover it with makeup?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” 

You take note of the silent command. For your job this weekend, you are to be an untarnished doll, perfect and pristine. No one wants tarnished goods. At that, Mikey jerked himself from you and opened the divider back open. From your angle, Sanzu pivoted his head to catch your attention.

His visage smug, like he anticipated you to be beaten down. Your ire was now directed towards him. If your fear wasn’t so egregious, maybe you would have spat right into his face. You reeled in the thought, such dangerous thinking would get you killed. 

“How much longer?” Mikey asked.

Kakucho answered, “We are actually here.”

The car rolled to a stop. Sanzu was the first to get out and opened Mikey’s door for him. He skid against the seat to step out, and you soon followed. Sanzu rested an arm on top of the door, towering over you as you climbed out. 

From the front, Kakucho said, “I will park the car and then head up.”

Mikey nodded his head and somehow Kakucho saw it. The scarred man glanced at you, the connection was broken by Sanzu slamming the door. Jumping, you glared at him. He merely shrugged, loving he got a reaction out of you. 

“Come,” Mikey beckoned and you obeyed.

Coming to his heel like a dog, he gently clutched your upper arm. The threat was bellowing. Try and run, and you were done for. Sanzu followed close behind, you walked through the front of the hotel. The building was extravagant and lined with glass. The foyer was even more gorgeous. It was rare for you to leave the clubs or the mansion, so when you were blessed with sights like this, you drank it all in. 

The hotel was a palette of golds, whites, and reds. Marbled floors clicked under your heeled feet. Smooth and milky, you stepped with more weight to hear the sound more prominently. You knew the motion was childish, but it was your favorite part of fancy places. 

Mikey let you have your fun as you approached the front desk. Rocking on your heels, your head pivoted around to take in the high ceilings lined with crystal chandeliers. Sanzu walked in front of Mikey to discuss with the receptionist your business. 

She was kind and you wondered if she knew what kind of men were before her. Does she know the hotel was soon to be riddled with gangsters and greedy politicians? Or is she used to this considering how luxurious the hotel was. She must have seen it all. While she talked to Sanzu, her gaze bounced to your neck. Your hand subconsciously covered it like an animal protecting its jugular. 

Mikey’s hand slithered from your arm to the small of your back to direct to where the elevator was. The contraption was one made completely of glass. Approaching the elevator, your heart hopped into your throat, you always hated heights. You three filed in and you observed how the other men were soon to follow. Crammed into the corner, Mikey’s hand slipped away. So tiny compared to the men in tailored suits, you swallowed your rapid breathing. 

You stared into Rindou’s back to ground yourself. Recoiling at the pinky that brushed your hands, you side-eyed who touched you. Kakucho offered nothing and neither did you. You silently relaxed into the appendage. The motion was a risky one, but all the men were watching the numbers tick up. The red numerals dinged with every floor hit until you were at the penthouse, the tippy top of the already tall building. 

When the doors opened up the billowing hallway greeted you all. Parading out, the air got less suffocating as you followed them. Soft carpet was now under your feet and you were saddened by the fact. An intricate pattern was woven into the burgundy thread, lined with gold. 

The men all went into their respective rooms to prepare for tonight. There was an hour until the show began. Mikey guided you to the room at the furthest part of the hall. At the end was a table with swirling designs, just as gold and red as the carpet. He took the key card from his pocket and tapped it to the pin pad. 

Of course, you would share a room with your brother. The room was as splendid as the rest of the hotel. A canopy bed framed with wine hued, velvet curtains with just as dark bed sheets. Two cushioned, gold trimmed chairs face a small, mahogany round table. To the right was a bathroom along with a dresser the same wood as the table. Curious, you went to the bathroom that was huge. A bathtub that could be mistaken as a hot tub was deep into the floor that was black and light grey marble. To the left of the tub was a sink and a giant, oval mirror lined with a whirling almost cloud-like pattern surrounding it. 

From your backside, Mikey’s shoes tapped against the marble, pleasant to your ears. His arms wrapped around you and you offered no resistance. 

“Is it to your liking?” His breath tickled your neck, your hair stood up. 

“Yes.”

Humming, he rocked you two side to side, “I’m glad. I would give you anything you asked for.”

A sad simper graced your appearance. He would, as long as it was materialistic. Your brother couldn’t give you what you desired most as it meant you would be far, far away from him. 

He extracted himself from you and offered a hand. You took it as he led you back to the main part of the suite. All of your belongings were already placed in the room. On the door was your dress for tonight. The gown was a midnight color and floor length with a satin finish. A sweetheart neckline paired with off the shoulder sleeves and slit that came up to your hip, with the amount of skin to be exposed, you were glad the gala was inside the same hotel. 

Mikey had a suit that matched your dress, everything down to the tie was all black. Directing to where the gown hung, he began to undress you. Unlike him, in his usually baggy shirt and joggers, you kept up appearances. He shrugged off your coat and threw it on the bed. Bending down, he tapped his knee. Listening, you placed your boot on his leg and your hands on his shoulders to balance. At this point, it’s second nature. Nimble fingers untied the laces and hauled the shoe from your foot. He repeated the action on the other side. 

Standing back up, you kept your hands on him. Neither of you said anything. Mikey continued undressing you, unbuttoning your pants until they pooled at your feet. Next was your dress shirt that was a blushing pink. He popped every button with ease and tugged the garment down like he did your coat. From your front, he reached around to unhook your bra with zero struggle. Soon you were left in just your panties, but there was nothing sexual about it.

He went to the door to grab the gown and weeded it from the protective plastic. Back down on his knees, he tapped your bare calf. Taking the hint you stepped in the dress and he jerked it up your body. In tandem, you put your arms into the sleeves when he reached your chest. His hand lingered to drag a finger up the length of your spine. Your back twitched upright. Mikey didn’t tease you anymore and zipped the dress up. 

The air was stifling, but you pushed it to the side. He went about his own business to get ready as well. Going into your luggage, you gathered your jewelry and makeup bag. Your feet glided to the bathroom and welcomed the cold of the marble tiles. Walking up to the mirror, you take your color corrector and foundation to hide the bruise. The color reminded you of when you were a kid and you would put a dandelion under your chin to see if you liked butter if the skin bloomed yellow. 

The makeup did its job well enough, but you added a lace collar to hide the blemish further. Your hands shook as you clasped it in place. A lot of weight was placed on you tonight and the rest of the gala. You couldn’t mess this up. 

A rapping on the hotel door spiked your heart rate up. There was no more pushing it off. Walking out from the bathroom, Mikey and Kakucho were talking. They cease their conversation to see you in your glory. While Mikey’s expression softened, Kakucho was stone cold. He knew what tonight meant and he despised when you worked. 

“You ready?” Kakucho asked. 

“One moment,” You went back to your luggage to pull a pair of designer heels from a box and slipped them on. They barely added any height, maybe about an inch. 

Both men were dressed to the nines. Kakucho forgone a tie and vest to leave his chest on display as usual. You forced your focus to Mikey’s face. He looked good in a suit. Perfectly tailored to his form, you couldn’t even tell how skinny the man had become. 

Ready, you followed the men out of the room and back to the hellish elevator. The rest of Bonten was already at the gala hosted in the ballroom and bar of the hotel. Everyone was in their positions, it was time for you to slide against the board to your place. Mikey was playing a game of chess and you were mere pawns to his goal. 

Balling and releasing your hand, you stepped into the elevator. 

“Y/n,” Mikey called and you turned to him. “What is expected of you?”

Clearing your throat, your relayed the mission, “I am to scope out the governor’s son and entertain him by any means necessary.”

The words hurt to say. This would be the first job since the incident where you were expected to sleep with a client. Mikey picked apart at how you clenched up. 

“Don’t let last time become a pattern.”

Jutting out your jaw, you bit out, “Yes, Mikey.”

At your words, the elevator doors parted and you were hit with the buzz of people mingling. You three went your own ways to fulfill the mission. With fervor, you crossed the foyer into the ballroom. There was no bodyguard to check if you were meant to be there. Being in the hotel was more than enough of an indicator of your importance. Needing a drink before you advanced your hunt, you clomped to the bar. 

Already in full swing, it was near impossible to flag down a bartender. You huffed in irritation, a pout on your lips.

“No luck?” A voice asked to your right. 

You jolted and spun around to see a handsome, older man inclining against the bar, his focus completely on you. He was far older than the other men in Bonten, maybe close to Takeomi’s age, but definitely in his forties. His hair was parted to the side with it pleasantly slicked back and an inky hue. A pair of glasses framed his kind face though something darker lurked in how he smiled. 

Slapping your work persona on, you pouted further, “Not at all.”

He laughed at your tone. “Didn’t expect it to be so busy so soon?”

“Can you read my mind?” You playfully teased.

He leaned in closer, already enjoying the game you started. “Don’t need to with how obvious your pout is.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. 

He took the sound in stride, “What drink does the princess want?”

You stuffed down how you wanted to retch at the nickname. Men are so easy. Tapping your lip, you pretend to think, “How about a whiskey sour?”

“Consider it done.” 

You were prepared to swallow the second-hand embarrassment when he was going to act more important than he was, but the second he raised his hand a bartender was flocking towards him. Your eyebrows raised at the display. 

“What can I get you, Sir?” 

“A whiskey sour for the lady and scotch for me, please.”

“Right away.”

He turned back to you, a smug glimmer in his eyes, “Impressive, right?”

“Can’t say it isn't,” You propped your hip against the barstool and pivoted all your attention to him. He was obviously a man of importance, but you wanted him to admit it to you.

“Just the perks of being the guest of honor,” he bragged, but it wasn’t bloated, moreso whimsy. 

“Guest of honor?” You teased, suspicious.

“Not too fond of politics I presume.”

“Never really cared for it, no,” You rebounded back at him.

His eyebrow raised, he knew more than he let on and so did you. “You really don’t know who I am?”

You stifled the smirk.

Leaning into your ear, he whispered, “Fukuda Daiki. Ring a bell?” 

Bingo.

“Ahh!” You proclaimed, “You’re the governor’s son, no?”

The bartender came back with both your drinks. He grabbed his and slightly raised it in the air to point at himself, “In all my glory.”

“Alright then, Mr. Fukuda, why are you amongst the common folk?”

His free hand waved flippantly, “Please, call me Daiki, Mr. Fukuda is too stuffy.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Daiki,” You called out.

Shining in interest, he seemed oddly pleased, “Well, if you want to know so bad, why don’t we go somewhere more private.” 

Taking his lead, you knocked back the rest of your drink and placed your hand in his outstretched one. The crowd parted for him and you caught the eye of Mikey. He clutched his glass, watching as Daiki took you to the more secluded areas of the bar. Further down was a darkened area with velvet booths. Many officials and gangsters conversed about who knows what. 

You slid into the seat and he mirrored you on the other side. Surprisingly, he kept a respectable distance. The older man gestured towards the wine in a bucket of ice. You nodded your head. He grabbed the two glasses and began pouring the blood-like liquid into the cups for each of you. 

Taking your own, you took a sip and savored the deep flavor. He did the same. 

“So what is so secretive that you had to pull me into the shadows?” You questioned over the rim.

He smacked his lips together, before answering, “When your father is as important as mine is, you have to be careful. Let’s just say, I like to dabble in unsavory hobbies. To watch my back, I have to watch other’s.”

The governor’s son’s words were cryptic, but you understood what he was putting down. You knew full well the type of ‘hobbies’ he engaged in, that’s why you were here, in this fancy hotel filled with fancy people. 

You crossed your legs and purposely had the tip of your heel glide against his shin. Bending over with your cleavage on display, you quipped, “What kind of unsavory hobbies.”

His eyes bounced to your exposed chest and back to you, “I think you know already.”

A smirk played on your lips as you took another sip of your drink. The warmth was starting to hit you. More hazy than before, you continued your game, “And would you want me to contribute to this hobby?”

His throat bobbed, his head probably already filled with images of you in precarious positions. “Who wouldn’t.”

The sentiment caught you slightly off guard and you instinctively smiled at the compliment.  Not many men were so upfront with how much they found you attractive. The words were often crude and straight to the point. 

Thinking of an answer, your eyes strayed to the rest of the party. Back to where most of the gaggle was, Takeomi was conversing with Daiki’s father. The old man let out a full belly laugh and clapped a hand onto Takeomi’s shoulder. You could assume his part of the mission was falling into place. Persuade him to elect his son while you entrance the son to favor Bonten, a neat domino effect. 

Angling your focus back to the man in front of you, you told him your thoughts. “Not many men are so sweet with their words.”

Daiki laughed, content that he appeased you. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by his phone ringing. “Hold that thought.”

When he answered the phone, his expression fell and sighed. After telling whoever was on the other line he would be right there and hung up, he placed his phone on the table. 

"I must go."

"Oh," You answered sadly, but your heart skipped a beat in fear.

"Will I see you again this weekend?" 

"If you are willing."

He got up from his seat and knocked his knuckle against the table, contemplating. "Meet me here again, tomorrow night."

"I look forward to it." 

And with that he was gone, fading into the crowd of people. Finally alone with yourself, you slouched into the seat and heavily exhaled. You dropped your face into your hands, careful not to ruin your makeup. Groaning, you goggled your wine glass, contemplating if you should finish it off or not. 

Before you could settle on a decision a familiar, obnoxious voice came barrelling towards you. Sanzu with a girl tucked under his arm and Mikey in toe came to disturb your moment of peace. The pink haired man slid in, the girl following him. Mikey went to your other side, trapping you to the booth. 

Sanzu slung his arm over your shoulder and wrenched you to him. He was obviously cross faded, his pupils blown out and alcohol tainted his breath. 

“So our little star of the show, how did it go?” The implication of did you fuck up again hung in the air.

“Good. He had to leave, but he asked to meet again tomorrow night.”

He bobbed his head enthusiastically, a hum as his answer. You turned to Mikey to see if you gained his approval. He conveyed nothing, staring at Sanzu’s arm around your neck. Prickling, you tried to rip it off you, but Sanzu only culled you closer.

“I think that calls to celebrate.” 

He reached over to grab the wine in the middle of the table and offered it to you. You shook your head, trying to pull away. His forearm dug into your larynx, choking you. Putting the cork between his teeth, he ripped it off and spat it out somewhere into the room. 

“Come on, Whore, drink.”

Sanzu shoved the bottle into your mouth and tipped it so the wine spilled into your mouth faster than you could swallow. You clawed at his arm and kicked your feet while your eyes clenched closed. The girl, too high to think, started to chant for you to chug. 

The liquid spilled from the corners of your mouth and down your neck, staining your dress. You whimpered and squirmed, but you were helpless. Like an animal on its back, you lashed out and rammed your elbow so hard into Sanzu’s stomach, he coughed. Naturally, he removed himself from you and cradled his stomach, keeled over. 

“You fucking bitch!” 

The sound of you dry heaving drowned out his indignant cries. Mikey did nothing as you pushed past the need to vomit. Bored of you already, Sanzu went back to entertaining the girl. You were a mess. 

Tears flowed over and you glared into your lap, sticky and wet. Your brother blew out a puff of air and moved to get out of the booth. 

“Let's get you cleaned up.” 

Following his lead, you both left Sanzu to his own devices. He was no help now, anyway. Wiping your cheeks in an attempt to save some piece of dignity, you followed him back into the foyer and into the elevator. 

The dinging of each floor was monotonous. When you reached your floor, you basically ran back in the room. Mikey opened the door with ease. While you took off your collar, he peeled the blazer off. He must have felt as stuffy as you did with all the layers constricting him. 

“Go run a bath, I will join you in a second.”

Never one to disobey his orders, you were happy to take a soak in the affluence tub. Skinning the soaked dress from you, you mourn the garment. You only hoped, you could get the stains out somehow. 

Walking over to the knobs, you rotate them both, favoring the hot valve. While the water ran, you took the fancy bottles and poured soap in the mix. As the bath frothed, you stripped your panties off. 

The water was at sufficient height so you twisted the knobs to their former state. Your foot reeled back at the heat, but you urged your way in. The bubbly, hot water hugged you and you moaned in relief. You sunk into the deep tub until only your head popped out. 

Mikey appeared once again, this time adorned in his undone shirt and pants. Swimming to the edge of the bath, you watched as he shrugged off his shirt. Along with the Bonten tattoo at the nape of his neck, a tiger in a classic yakuza style art spanned the whole length and width of his back. The tattoo was paired with swirling lilies. Even though Mikey had lost weight, his back rippled with muscle. 

He shredded his pants and boxers as well. You averted your gaze when his cock came into view. Despite being flaccid, you could tell he was on the bigger side. Swimming to the other side, you gave him enough room to step in. He, too, welcomed the warmth of the bath and sunk down beside you.

Mikey tugged and manhandled you until your back rested against his chest. You slipped down a little and he comfortably rested his chin on top of your head. Chin in the water, you blew at the bubbles that floated near you. Arms wrapped tight around your chest and stomach, you melted further into him. There was nowhere else to go. 

“How did the mission really go?”

Whatever serenity you had was zapped from you. You bristled, “I wasn’t lying.”

He hummed in response. 

You pulled away from him and endured him head on, a grimace on your visage and pressed, “I’m not lying.”

“I never said you were.”

Kneeling between his legs, he caged you in. 

“You’re implying it.”

He turned you back around and went back to hugging you. Mikey exhaled and sagged into your hair. 

“Does Sanzu do that often?” He changed the subject.

“Torment me?” You scoffed.

“I suppose.”

Another mass of bubbles drifted by you and you cupped it. Spinning in Mikey’s hold, you placed the bubbles onto his head. He offered a nostalgic smile. 

Morphing the tiny air pockets into a cone shape, you answered, “Sanzu hates me and has no qualms making it known.”

“I will speak to him about it.”

Your hands stopped. “Don’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because then he’s just going to do it more, but in secret. You know very well, better than most, how hard it is to reel Sanzu in.”

He gripped your wrists and kissed your knuckles. The same feeling from earlier today drifted back in. It was in rare moments did you find comfort with him. But you weren’t fooled, not by his caring and attentive words. You were no better than a butterfly pinned to a bulletin board.

IMAGO

Tonight was the last night of the gala. A lot of weight was on your shoulders to seal the deal with the governor’s son. The ballroom was bustling and in full swing. All the booths were filled to the brim, the gaggle of designer clothes and pearl necklaces suffocated. This life wasn’t meant to be yours, but here you were, meeting a politician for the third night in a row. 

In spite of the circumstances, you liked his company. You knew full well he indulged in flesh and drugs, but he was kind. A kindness rarely offered to you. He knew what you were and you knew what he craved, there was no lingering, unspoken tension.

He enjoyed the game you played, the back and forth. Will he seal the deal or won’t he? A small part of you wondered if Daiki did this to keep your attention. Well, he had it. 

Resting your hand on your chin, you smiled at him.

“What?” 

You tilted your head, “You know if you closed the deal with Bonten, you could have me whenever you wanted.” 

Usually you would beat around the bush more, but you were on a tight schedule and Mikey’s glare burned into your temple. From across the room, up on the balcony, he wasn't subtle with how he stared. 

Daiki’s face rose in surprise, “Oh?” 

“Mhmm,” you crooned, “not just me, but any girls in the clubs, you could have without having to be sneaky. Bonten is all about secrecy. Nothing you want to be exposed, won’t. You rub our backs, we rub yours.”

He adjusted his glasses, “And where does this all lead to? I could have the same offer from any other gang.”

“But will any other gang secure your place as governor of Kyoto?” You were making a huge gamble giving away Bonten’s hand, but there was nothing else you could say. Your hand was a dud. 

“You’re promising a very dangerous thing, Love,” His voice had an edge, both a threat and anticipation. He wanted what you dangled in front of his face, but, he too, didn’t know it was worth the risk. 

“I am not promising, I am telling you. You will win this election with Bonten’s help and in return you will solidify Bonten’s safety. We know you run the police force.”

He dropped his head and took his glasses off. Running a hand down his face, he seemed tired. As you went to survey Mikey, your eye caught something else. 

A jolt sent your body into overdrive. Though his hair was longer, you couldn’t miss the black and yellow strands. The colors swirled and plagued your dreams for years. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. The smile, the tattoos, and the audible clunk of metal against bone.

Quite frankly, you had been in a haze for years but seeing Hanma’s visage woke you up. It all came crashing into you: why you were here, who was the source of this. And why your darling older sister was dead and you paid the price for it.

To the others far up in the balcony, they wouldn’t recognize him. His hair was no longer short and covered most of his visage. Hanma’s hands were tucked into his pockets as he glided through the crowd. You did a double take. It couldn’t be him, you refused to believe it.

Dread filled your stomach and the wine wasn’t helping. Glancing back up at the balcony, Mikey was gone. You were on your own. 

“You alright?” Daiki’s voice reeled you from your stupor. 

Regarding him, you were angry. Angry that you had to sell yourself to secure safety for a gang who offered you nothing. You looked back to see Hanma’s figure round the corner, away from the bustle. Sure, you were terrified, but you needed to know.

“I’m sorry,” Was all you said as you whisked yourself away from the booth.

He called for you, but you breezed past him. With Mikey no longer watching, the leash was slacked. You shoved past the people, not caring about their spitting complaints. For once in your life, you clawed and tore towards what you wanted. Your vision tunneled onto his form. Everything was tight and the air thinned, either from the bodies pressed into you or the anxiety. 

Like a caterpillar popping out of a cocoon, you were spat out from the horde. The hallway was barely away from the party with the sounds of laughing present in your ears. You walked further down until you were a different part of the hotel. It was hardly secluded, anyone could walk in, but it was far enough no one would notice you were gone. 

There, reclined against the wall was the very man responsible for your torment. Sure, Kisaki was the one who commanded the hit, but Hanma was the executioner. Nothing really changed about him besides he visibly looked drained. He said nothing while he leered at you. 

“Why?” Your voice tumbled out weaker than you intended.

“Why what?” He dared to say.

You stomped right up to him and screeched, “Why! Why, why, why, why?” Each word was emphasized with a hit to his torso. 

Hanma did nothing to stop you and peered down from over his nose with zero empathy. You were breaking, both you and him knew it. 

“After all these years, you dared to show your face after what you and Kisaki did. Do you understand what I had to go through because Mikey was terrified of you and Kisaki would come for me, too? Where is he anyway, hiding under your skirts like the coward he is?”

Hanma tilted his head in confusion, “Kisaki’s dead. Had been for almost a decade. Mikey was there when he died.”

You stumbled back. You shook your head, “No, no, no. You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie about my own best friend being dead? That’s too cruel, even for me.”

A laugh pierced your chest. You doubled over and clutched your stomach as more giggles poured out. All this time, he was lying to you. There was never a boogey man in the shadows waiting to gobble you up. 

Catching your breath, you asked between cackles, “And why are you here, just to torment me? Haven’t you done enough?”

Hanma’s face twitched, “No, I’m here for another reason. Us meeting is purely a coincidence.”

A part of you didn’t want to believe him. Everything you had been told for years had been a lie. Rapid footsteps came from the other hall, sending Hanma into motion. You didn’t even watch as he disappeared, not even caring when rough hands spun you around. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Kakucho seethed. 

You could only laugh as tears painted your appearance, your perfect makeup ruined. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long did you know that Kisaki was dead,” You spat out the last word.

Kakucho’s nose scrunched, “How-?”

“How do I know? Because Hanma fucking Shuji just told me. He was just here!”

You started to spiral again and Kakucho shook you, trying to get you to snap out of it. “That doesn’t matter. Do you understand how much you fucked up? Mikey is pissed!”

At the sound of your brother’s name, you hiccupped. It was all happening too fast, it was too much. “I’m s-sorry.”

Kakucho beckoned you into his embrace. His thick arms squeezed you tight to his chest as if he could protect you in his rib cage. Heaven knew how much he wanted to save you from Mikey. He was just as terrified for you since Mikey was on a warpath. Half of him wanted to advocate for you, but if he did, then he would expose you both. 

But, the click of a gun being cocked back went straight through his body. He sagged against you, knowing the jig was up and so did you. From over Kakucho’s shoulder was your brother, a pistol greeted you. 

Separating from Kakucho, you both confronted him dead on. Nothing in him wavered as he kept the gun pointed at you. Your knees buckled and you almost pissed yourself with his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. 

“Not even going to try and explain yourself?”

Like a kicked dog, you only whimpered out a pathetic, “No.”

“You know Sanzu told me to watch out for Kakucho,” your head sprung up at that, betrayed that he tattled anyway. You should have known better, “But I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. Now look at what you made me do.”

He flicked his wrist over to Kakucho instead of you. “Wait!” You screeched as you put yourself in front of Kakucho. “Don’t do this.”

“And why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I teach a cheating, lying whore like you a lesson?”

You bit your tongue not to froth that he had been the one lying to you the whole time.

“You need Kakucho! Don’t let this cloud the fact you need him to keep Bonten at the top.” He kept the gun raised and you started to get frantic. “Manjiro-nii, please!”

Silver metal stared you down. Mikey growled before uncocking the gun and shoving it into the back of his pants. Stomping towards you, he snagged your arm and ripped you from Kakucho. You dared not glance back at him. Mikey was volatile as is. 

“We will just discipline you in a different way then.”

Your hand was going numb, losing circulation with how tight he cuffed you. As you both turned the corner, he whipped his head back to Kakucho and barked, “We aren’t done here.”

Kakucho nodded his head solemnly, accepting his fate. Departing away from him, you stared straight ahead. You refused to let your possible last moment with Kakucho with him so defeated. 

Mikey walked you both into the throes of the gala. You squirmed, embarrassed you were being tugged along like a misbehaving child. Some people watched in curiosity of the woman with streaky makeup passing by, others were too indulged in their drinks.

“Let me go,” You begged.

“Quiet.”

You clamped your mouth shut. As you crossed the room, you passed by Sanzu. His snickers rang in your ear. Seething, you attempted to turn and bark at him, but Mikey snuffed your chance. He moved his hand to clamp on your nape, forcing your head down.

“Manjiro,” You said, your neck creaked from the motion. 

His fingernails bit into the flesh, “Didn’t I tell you to keep your mouth shut.”

Cutting across through the foyer, you nodded your head as you went to the elevator. The elevators yawned to let you in and luckily you two were alone. It's not like anyone would come to help you. 

Mikey’s palm was a hot iron. The numbers ticked up and you were restricted to stare at the floor. You couldn’t even see the expression he was making, for better or for worse. When the elevator stretched to accommodate you two, Mikey shoved you out. His heels clicked against the marble, but this time it brought no satisfaction. 

Ripping the hotel door open, he threw you so hard you stumbled over your heels and fell. Your hip and elbow took the brunt of the fall. Like a worshiper at the feet of their god, you gazed up at Mikey. If only you knew how pretty the lighting made you. 

“Stay here and don’t fucking move. I have to now clean up the mess you created. I have been too lenient with you and I guess Kakucho, too.”

“Don’t hurt him!” You cried as you crawled to hug his leg, “Please.”

His eyes were an inky apathy. He kicked you off him, “You aren’t in the place to make such demands.”

Coughing, you curled into a ball at the hit to your vulnerable stomach. Leaving you to rot, he slammed the door closed. There was a strange beep and a rock slipped into your stomach. Scrambling to stretch yourself up, you raced to the hotel door. You rattled the knob and were met with resistance. Why you were surprised he found a way to child-lock the door is beyond you.

“Manjiro! Manjiro, open the door!” You screamed and pounded on the door. Even going to the extent to slam your shoulder against it, but by now he was long gone. You were trapped. 

You marched away from the slab of wood and began to pace. Pulling at your strands, you heaved a primal screech. The world was falling out from under you. Collapsing on the bed and hanging your head in your hands, nothing made sense. Well, it made perfect sense. Mikey had been lying to you for years and same with Kakucho. The latter broke more than the former. 

And now, because of you, Kakucho was going to be slaughtered. You flew too close to the sun and he was the one being burned. 

Kisaki hadn’t been a threat for a decade, Hanma said. So when Mikey swiped you from your life, it was all fallacies to entrap you in his ever growing web. Walking to the window, you tried to wipe away his sticky residue. 

You knew it was pointless to try and escape. Peering out the glass, it was a long way down with no way of surviving the jump. For a brief moment you contemplated doing it anyway. A darker, more vengeful part of you wanted to do it out of pure spite for Mikey pushing you over the edge. Though, no matter what, you couldn’t do that to him. The aftermath would be atomic.  

With nothing else to do, you went back to the bed and sank into the sheets. Your leg shook the frame from your anxiety. You felt like you were being sent to the gallows and you might as well be. 

Hours later a familiar beeping bellowed in the vacant cage. Springing up, Mikey walked through the door, more haggard than before. Your eyes flew all over his frame to sniff out a spot of blood. You sagged your shoulders when you found nothing. 

Besides that, you didn’t move an inch. You kept your eyes on him like a nervous dog. No words were exchanged as he strolled over to the bed. At the elevated height difference, you craned your neck to hold his gaze. His eyes were the same empty void. He gripped your chin to demand contact. 

Mikey’s thumb trailed down the basically healed bruise, a soft yellow visible. He dug the appendage into your jugular until you instinctively flinched back. Your hands shot up to grab his wrist. This only angered him further and he shook your face. 

Whimpering, you scrunched your nose from the pain. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He fumed, bending down at the waist to bump his nose to yours.

“You’re hurting me!”

He only tightened his grip, “Good. I had to clean up your mess, again.” “You wouldn’t have to if you didn’t force me into this life.”

“Oh boo hoo, how awful of me to protect you.”

You slapped his wrist and kicked into his thigh, “You weren’t protecting me at all! You’re sick and only want me for yourself.”

Mikey twisted your arm and shoved you into the bed with your face smushed into the sheets. “Maybe so.” 

He pulled you up until your back was against his chest. Clamping his hand against your nape once more, he directed you to the door. 

“W-where are we going?” 

“I said I was going to punish you, didn’t I?”

You did not like the implications of his words, at all. In no time you were back at the gala. The crowd hadn’t thinned out, laughter polluted the air. Mikey took you to a different direction than the booths, and up the stairs to the balcony. Watching over the masses, the twisting, golden railing was more a cage than anything. 

He guided you further down the hall until you hit an archway with an unassuming door. At the frame was Sanzu waiting for you both. Your heart dropped into your stomach, to be eaten by the acid. His smile was wolfish and hungry. Today was the day Sanzu had been anticipating for God knows how long. 

More lamb than human, you shrunk back, terrified of what laid await in the den. Sanzu twisted the door open with apparent giddiness. The room was similar to the hotel rooms, but obviously for private lounging rather than a sleeping area. Velvet sofas similar to the booths crowded around a coffee table. 

On one sofa were the Haitani Brothers with Kakucho between. The couch was wide enough for all of them to manspread. Rindou had a bored expression, resting his chin against his fist with his elbow on the arm of the couch. Ran was the more giddy of the two, like a kid on Christmas. And Kakucho, your sweet Kakucho, was so crushed. A black eye swelled his scarred eye shut. At least it wasn’t his seeing one. 

Sanzu basically skipped to the chair by the couch. Cozying up into the velvet, he placed his hands on his lap, shoulders shuddering in delight. “Let’s get this started.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sanzu,” Mikey ordered. 

Said man, brought you to the couch across from where the other man sat. Sanzu closed his mouth, but wasn’t offended in the slightest. Of course, he wouldn’t, he was too far up Mikey’s ass. 

Mikey sat down while he brought you between his thighs, facing him. He ran his hand up and down your waist. Whatever was going on, you weren’t liking it. 

“Undress.”

Silence filled the room. Your jaw dropped, agape and in awe. 

“What?”

His hand dug into the meat of your hips, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Mikey’s word was law. Already shaking in fear, you brought your hand to the zipper in the back and slid it down while staring him down. He matched your glower. The dress fell limp and flowed until it pooled at your feet.

Knowing that you facing him gave you the confidence to strip, your brother spun you around. This was supposed to be a punishment and he wanted you to bathe in every bit of humiliation. 

Arrayed in just your bra and panties, you were tempted to cover yourself up. The other men tore into you with their famished eyes. Sanzu was especially elated. He never relished in anything more than your ignominy. Behind you, Mikey unhooked your bra. He tugged it off roughly and you almost stumbled at the jab. 

You would think after years of undressing for countless people, embarrassment would have left your system, but your cheeks steamed. Ran adjusted himself in his seat. Out of the men in the room, only the Haitani Brothers haven’t seen you naked. Not wanting to dip in their own supply or whatever other degrading language they used. At the end of the day, you were merely trade to them. 

Rindou indicated the most disinterested out of them all. His eyes drooped down in boredom. Despite that, those purple irises trailed up and down your form. Kakucho was downright miserable. His face was twisted in a mix of anger and shame. 

Mikey then shedded your last bit of armor. He was just as rough with ripping off your panties. You wanted to curl in on yourself. The sound of Mikey wrenching off his tie had you perk up. What is he doing?

Your arms were strained behind you, forced to sit parallel to each other. He wrapped the black tie around your forearms multiple times until they were almost fully covered and finished it off with a tight tie. You wiggled your wrists, scared. “What are you doing?” You tried to spin around but Mikey didn’t allow it. 

He manhandled you into his lap. “Quiet.”

You squirmed more, “No! Stop it.”

He swung one leg over your thighs to keep you still. None of the men moved to help either you or Mikey. They were there to enjoy the show. Mikey unbuckled his belt and ripped it from the belt loops. He growled when it got caught at the last hoop. Tears built up at the thought of him using it on you, so you struggled more.

“Relax.”

His words were no help. He raised the belt and you just about screamed, but he looped the belt around your throat. Mikey was surprisingly gentle when he thread the leather through the metal and tugged until it was firm against your neck. He spun his hand around the belt, like a leash. 

“Good dog,” He praised with no emotion. 

Mikey fixed you properly on his lap so your ass perked up. With his free hand, he rubbed up and down your bottom. You rested your forehead on the couch. A scream ripped through you followed by a sob when his palm slapped into the fat of your ass. The sound was muffled by the furniture and Mikey wasn’t having it. 

Yanking the belt, he pressed your head to face the men.

"Now you want to act all shy? Not too long ago you were whoring yourself out to my men," His tone conveyed the anger he kept at bay.

Your eyes met Kakucho before you looked down in shame. He slapped you again and a sob broke out. 

“He barely started and you already look this pathetic?” Sanzu teased vindictively. 

You gritted your teeth when Mikey hit harder and to keep from falling for Sanzu’s bait. He was right, your brother barely commenced and you were in agony. 

“How long?” Mikey asked.

Dropping your head, you were perplexed, “What?”

“How long,” He heeded Kakucho, “were you two going behind my back.”

“Ten months,” Kakucho answered for you and you collapsed further. 

Mikey dug his nails into the meat of your thigh. It stung and you tried to have him release you. Anger bubbled over and he smacked your thigh so hard the air left your lungs. 

“Ten months, you were fucking my Number Three without my knowledge. I ought to fucking murder you both, but I decided to be merciful,” He looked directly at you, “say thank you.”

“Thank you,” He dug his nails further, “T-thank you, Manjiro-nii.”

Ran laughed at that, “Wow, you are sick.” 

Mikey ignored Ran, too focused on you. “I think ten strikes would make it sink in. Count or else I will start from the beginning.”

You trembled, not once has Mikey ever gotten violent with you. He wasn’t kind by any means, but he wasn’t one for physical punishments. 

His hand striked where his nails culled blood from your skin and you screamed, he wasn’t holding back. “Count, I won’t remind you again.”

“O-one! I’m sorry.”

He cooed, “I liked the apology, add that onto it.”

Clenching your restrained hands into balls, you prepared for the next hit. Muscles strung too tight like a bow. Drawing it out, Mikey waited until your tendons grew tired of being strained did he slap you. His palm hit your ass this time. 

“Two, I’m sorry!” 

He rubbed out the heat radiating from your bottom, but it only irritated it more. Against your stomach, his bulge poked you. Your squirming was giving him some sort of relief. Your sobs sparked his chest to heave, short of breath. 

Pushing the thought away, he went back to your punishment. He striked your right cheek in the same place twice and you kicked your feet. 

“Three, Four, I’m sorry.”

Snot poured from your nose and into the couch. The world started to blur from the pain. You weren’t even half way through it and you don’t know if you can handle anymore. Mikey hit your left cheek this time, more towards your back than your thighs. 

“Five, I’m sorry,” You whimpered. 

Your brother dragged the makeshift leash so you faced him. His gaze inhaled your broken expression. Makeup, tears and snot was smeared all over your visage. To him, you never looked so beautiful. 

“Such a good dog for me.”

Those words only made it worse. Out of your peripheral, Mikey’s hand raised and hit the middle of your ass, irritating both already smarting cheeks. 

“S-six, I’m sorry!”

He tugged the belt again and you scanned at the other men. Sanzu was cupping his hardened cock and Ran was no better. He rubbed the heel of his palm into his crotch through his dress pants. Rindou was now leaned over, elbows on his knees. Kakucho has his fists in his lap. He looked about ready to spring up and pull you from Mikey’s lap. But the matching bulge in his pants gave away, in a sick way, he was enjoying the display. 

You screeched when Mikey spanked you with no warning. Your head fell back down and you groaned, feet curled in. 

“Numb—” Mikey started, but you cut him off.

“Seven, seven! I’m sorry, please don’t start over, I can’t,” You groveled. 

“Don’t let it happen again,” Instilling the lesson, he spanked you with fervor.

Crying, a headache forming, you sobbed, “Eight, I’m sorry.”

You were so close to being done, but the knowledge only made it worse. Mikey was in a cruel mood and he was going to drag this out until he was satisfied. He pinched the fat of your ass, humming when you yelped. He trailed his focus down to between your legs. Deft fingers dipped into where your cunt was. To your misfortune, wetness built up from his actions. 

“Are you seriously wet from this?” He mocked.

“S-stop it.”

Mikey shoved two fingers into your hole, your butt raised up in shock. “Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this.”

Your syrupy cunt sucked him in as he scissored his fingers. He watched in fascination as your hole gaped slightly for him. Twisting the appendages, he was sure to brush against your g-spot, but offered no real stimulation. You canted your hips up more, begging for something, anything.

He ripped his fingers from you and slapped his hand down so hard, it licked your tailbone. Screaming, you kicked your feet at the ache shooting up your spine. 

“Nine, I’m sorry!”

Mikey wasn’t going to be merciful. The same fingers coated in your slick brushed over your tailbone and slotted between the cleft of your ass. Your thighs clenched in fear. He momentarily dropped the leash to pry your leg open. Nails digging into the meat, you shuttered when his fingers stroked your untouched back hole. He did nothing more than press into the puffy ring.

“Fuck,” A voice grunted at the other side of the room. It sounded like Ran, but you weren’t positive. 

Mikey didn’t dip in and moved his attention back to your cunt. “For another day,” He promised.

Scooping more of your slick from you, he drifted to your clit and swirled. He plucked moans from you and had your body melt into putty. His hands played with you to his own contentment. Pleasure shot up into your stomach, warming it. Mikey knew exactly how to have you fall into his hands. As you thawed into his thighs, stomach heavy on his hardened cock, he striked for the last time. 

His palm hit hard against your already smarting flesh and your ears rang for a brief moment. 

“Ten, I’m sorry,” The words were pathetic.

Finally done with your punishment, you sobbed more freely. Being taken over his knee like a child was too much for your brain to process. He worked you through it, stroking your upper back to soothe you. 

Mikey adjusted you so you sat sideways on his lap. The rough texture of his pants dug into your burning bottom. His hand cradled the back of your head while you curled into his neck. Your brother shushed you and rocked you back and forth. 

When you were more calm, he sighed into your ear, “We aren’t done yet.”

You shot straight up and gawked at him, eyes wide in fear. He grabbed the back of the collar and gripped to keep you in place. Your panicked eyes bounced to the other men in the room. They were all at the edge of their seats, like a movie finally hit its climax. As Mikey unzipped his pants, Kakucho exhibited he was about ready to leap, but Rindou placed an arm against the back of the sofa, tethering him. 

“W-what’s going on?” 

Mikey lifted his hips up a little, you still on his thigh and yanked down his pants and boxers. His cock sprang from its confines. Mikey wasn’t the biggest, but his length wasn’t anything to scoff at. A little longer than five inches and girthy. You were petrified, not once have you seen his dick fully. He was always the one giving you pleasure, with an unspoken promise never to touch you like that.

You didn’t like the implications of him exposing himself. Slouching further down the couch, Mikey grabbed your waist and sat you back on his thighs, facing the other men. They all knew something you didn’t. Grabbing the belt, he brought you down to rest all your weight on him. He didn’t so much grunt. 

He splayed a hand on your back and pushed you down a little, giving him a full view of your pussy. Taking his cock in his hand, he guided it to your hole. You tried to scramble away, but he tugged the leash so hard, you collapsed completely on him. 

“Manjiro-nii, please! Don’t do this, you-you promised,” You begged to deafened ears. 

Sanzu moaned lightly at your distress. Back firmly to his chest, Mikey pushed further into you, cockhead catching the ring of muscles. Your walls spasmed as he forced you further down to take all of him. You cried as your pussy stretched to accommodate his size. 

“How the fuck are you so tight,” Mikey grunted. 

He had one hand on your hip using it as leverage to push you down. Moaning, you twitched when he bottomed out inside you. Your hips flushed to his. Mikey basked in finally being inside you. He dreamed of this day.

“God, what a whore,” Rindou said. His voice was breathy with a laugh at the end. 

“Yeah,” His brother replied, “look at how wet she is from her brother fucking her. We should record it and sell it. I bet we would make a lot of money.”

You felt like an object more than usual. Mikey did nothing to stop their taunts, if anything, he welcomed it. Hand wrapped around the leather, he kept you tied to him. Your walls spasmed around him and Mikey couldn’t take it any longer. The hand on your hip moved to coil around your waist, hugging you. 

Secured, he thrusted his hips up, bullying his cock further up. You screeched when he banged against your cervix. The pain had you clenching tighter around him. Taking that as motivation, he pistoned his hips into you over and over. 

Your head lolled back to rest against his shoulder. Eyes slipping closed, Mikey tugged the belt, digging into your larynx. Your bound hands spasmed as he choked you. 

“Look at them.”

Lips tingling from the lack of oxygen, you followed his orders. The men were in varying states. Sanzu gathered his cock from his trousers and was stroking himself to the rhythm of Mikey’s thrusts. Both the brothers were still clothed, but were rubbing themselves through their pants. Kakucho was seething in his seat. His cock was hard. How could you blame him, when your pretty moans blessed his ears. But he knew you didn’t want this. 

“They are like slobbering puppies,” He spoke into your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive neck, “Whimpering and howling for what’s mine.”

At the last word, he bit the shell of your ear. 

“Manjiro-nii…”

His thrusts were becoming too much. He tilted his hips again to repeatedly bump into the spongy spot deep inside you. A loud moan ruptured from your chest and he groaned at the sound. Basking in the unwanted pleasure, your eyes hazed over and began to slip closed.

The bit of leather into your almost healed throat had your lid shoot up. 

“Eyes. Open,” Mikey ordered, puncturing your cunt with each word. 

You wiggled, and gripped the front of his shirt, your bound hands unable to do anything else. Black creeped in your vision as he didn’t let up. 

“You’re killing her!” Kakucho cried.

It was hard to process his words as Mikey only pulled harder.

Sanzu laughed, “Stop being dramatic.”

If Mikey didn’t stop, you were going to pass out. A strangled noise broiled up as your toes curled. Just as the room faded did Mikey let up on his grip. A cough escaped you as you tried to hunch forward to catch your breath. Your brother rooted you back to his chest. Instinctively, your body constricted, ready for more pain.

Your cunt tightened up in response. Mikey almost whimpered at how much you were squeezing him. He wasn’t going to last. Reaching down, the hand around your waist brushed against your puffy, neglected clit.

Yelping, you shied away from his touch. Mikey chased you to rub circles into the bundle of nerves. Wanting, no—he needed you to reach your end with him. The other men quickened their pace as well. 

Mikey wrenched the belt back again to cut off your air supply. His thrusts were sloppy and uncoordinated, but didn’t have any less power to them. Pinching your clit until you sobbed out, he rammed himself as far as he could go. Your cunt spasmed around his cock as you came.

The world faded into black and white, mouth agape to moan and to beg for air. Mikey bit down on your shoulder as he came right behind you. His cum was hot and claimed your walls. He gave some weak thrusts, gently guiding you both through the rest of your orgasm. 

Slumping against him did he finally release his hold on the belt. You doubled over as you coughed and sputtered to gain your breath. Drool dripped down from your bottom lip. 

Mikey tugged you into his embrace this time by your shoulders but you screamed in fear, terrified of being strangled again. Your eyes searched frantically all over the room, trying to process what happened. 

“Get out,” Mikey snapped at the other men. 

Knowing their play time was done, they leisurely walked out of the room. Kakucho tried to linger, but Ran pushed him along. For you or for Kakucho, no one knows.

When the door was firmly closed, Mikey lifted you up from his cock. You cringed as his cooling cum drooled out from your winking cunt. He softly placed you to the side of him. Swiftly he untied his tie from your forearms and set you free. You brought your arms back to your front and rolled your wrists in hopes to ease the tingling. Next was the belt. You cowered away when his fingers brushed against you. 

Mikey exhaled as he unlooped the belt and freed you from your physical leash. He steered you until your head rested on his lap. When you weren’t paying attention, he shoved his cock back into his pants. 

“I will never forgive you for this,” You muttered.

“I should be the one saying that.”

Your fist balled up once more, “I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.”

Mikey simply petted your hair as you cried. You were always fragile like butterfly wings. One brush of his finger and you would never fly again. Despite this, he clutched onto you like a careless child. If it meant breaking your very being in the process, then he would do what he must. Though as he watched you twitch and wither, a part of him regretted ripping off your pretty wings.

MORTEM

Days had passed since the gala and you hadn’t left your room. When he brought you back to the hotel room, you were silent. And you stayed silent through the whole trip home. You felt violated and dirty. Now matter how much you scrubbed in the shower, Mikey’s touch wouldn’t leave you. 

In a twisted sense, this was your wakeup call. You couldn’t handle much more or else you would shatter. Your brother left you alone for the most part. While you inverted in on yourself, he watched sadly but did nothing. 

Routinely, Mikey would come to your room and knock knowing you would not answer. Even with the key he had, he dared not unlock your door. He has pushed his boundaries as is. If anything, he was more distraught out of the both of you.

Laying in your giant bed, you didn’t let your depressed state rot you away. No, you were done being under Mikey’s thumb. Knowing that Kisaki was long since dead and Hanma had little interest in you, the danger was in your home all along. Nothing held you back anymore from starting anew. 

You had been back in the manor for about four days now and every night, you snuck out of your room to steal money. You kept it small, but enough to buy you a train and airplane ticket, far away from Japan. As a child, you always loved the countryside and you longed to go somewhere similar to the roaring mountains. Combined with the tips you had stowed away from the club, for a moment just like this, you would be fine until you found a job.

Stealing the money was easy, it was breaking into Mikey’s office to obtain all your documents and passport that had you on edge the most. Last night, you stole the last bit of what you needed, knowing it would be easier to notice missing than a couple hundred dollars. Luckily, Mikey had slipped off to bed and wasn’t slumped over in his chair. Thank whatever deity was listening that all your papers were in his office and not somewhere else. If you had to forge them, you had no idea what you would do with all the men breathing down your neck. 

Over the course of you being home, you hadn’t seen or heard of Kakucho once. Your heart broke. But what broke your heart more was that Mikey never really cared for you. You were a possession, an almost perfect sized puzzle piece to fill the gap Emma had left.

Night had fallen, moonlight poured from the window. You waited for Mikey’s knock. Right on time there was a rapping on your door. Tears broke out as you bit into your hand as he shouted your name. His voice was so sad. In another lifetime, maybe you could have been normal siblings and maybe you two could have been close and maybe Emma could still be alive and none of this would have happened. 

He sighed and his shadow moved away from the door under the crack at the bottom. You counted and counted until you were in the thousands. Silence and the bellowing winds greeted you. You hopped up from your bed, tearing the sheets from your form. 

Crawling under your bed, you grabbed the backpack and toiled it with you. Placing it on your bed, you zipped it open to make sure all you needed was still there. You had your money, documents, and a few spare clothes shoved in there. A water bottle and a few protein bars were in the front pocket, in case. 

Softly, you opened your closet and uprooted a thick winter jacket and snow boots. A flurry of snowflakes raged outside. You shoved a hat on top of your head and wrapped a scarf around your neck. Your hand lingered on your throat, the bruise finally gone despite the irritation added from Mikey’s belt. Suddenly short of breath, you shook the thoughts away. 

Pulling your hood up, you swung the backpack high on your shoulders. Your feet carried you to the window and you pushed it up. The panes got caught a couple times from the chill. You stared down at the ground below you. Your bedroom was only on the second floor, but if you weren’t careful, you could break your foot. It was also not under anyone else’s bedroom, thankfully. 

Vertigo hit you from staring at the snowy ground. 

“Fuck it.”

Steeling your resolve, you swung your legs outside the window and ducked your head. Your bottom and hands were the only thing tethering you to the ledge. Sucking an inhale, you jumped.

Swallowing a scream as air whipped in your ears. In seconds, you land on the ground with an *oof*, the snow breaking your fall. Not wasting time, you scurried away from the floor and raced away from the compound. The snow slowed you down and gave away the direction you went. Once you hit the road it was easier to run. 

You dared not loop back to the manor and picked up the pace. The subway station was only a half hour walk but you weren’t taking any chances. Booted feet slapped against concrete. Snow crunched under your weight and the cold stung your cheeks. There were a few cars that drove past you, but paid you no mind. They also had places to be. 

You couldn’t tell if it was the cold or the fear of being caught, yet a chill went down your spine. Cutting the estimated time in half, the train station was in view. Out of breath, you slowed your pace to a brisk walk. No one was waiting for the train. It made sense since it was the last train of the night. 

Gripping the backpack, you reached the empty, open train stop. As you shuffled towards the awning, you heard the clicking of the safety being switched off. 

You freezed at the familiar sound.

“Don’t make this difficult, Y/n,” Mikey said from behind you

Scared to confront  him, you stay silent and scout when the train will arrive, five minutes. You can buy time. You can be smart about this.

“I’m leaving.”

He cocked the gun, “No you’re not. You’re going to come back with me.”

Still refusing to turn around, you muttered,  “Let me go, Mikey.”

He walked closer, snow crackling beneath him. He brought the barrel to the back of your head. 

“We both know I can’t do that.”

“Why?” Three more minutes.

“You know why,” he said it like it's so simple. That it's so simple why he entangled you with him when he clearly hated you so deeply. 

“No I don’t!” You whipped around, the barrel now to your forehead. It was no longer you talking, but a seven year old you crying why her older brother doesn’t love her. 

She speaks through you, “You hated me since we were little. You always favored Emma over me and acted like my presence was a nuisance. I know it should have been me and not her, but it's not fair! It’s not fair that I have to be punished for simply being your sister!”

He gripped you and tugged you to him with the gun now at your temple. “I never hated you, not once! You aren’t a replacement for Emma, I never saw you like that. I loved you since the day I met you but it was so much different than what I have for our other siblings. It was wrong, but I had to have you.”

“You’re sick,” You seethed. This whole time he tormented you for his own twisted desires. He tarnished you with his own sullied hands. He ripped you apart, your fragile butterfly wings crumbling at his fumbling actions. 

“I don’t care what you think I am as long as you stay with me,” He clutched your face with an open palm and the heel of his hand that still held the loaded gun.

You tried to pry his hands away as the honking of the train alerts you both of its soon arrival.

“Get off me! Let me go, I hate you.”

Desperate, he kissed you, pouring into you all the love he begged to give but you didn’t want it. Not after what he did. 

You pushed against his chest, “You lied to me about Kisaki, yet you punished me for lying. You’re the real liar.”

“I had to! If I didn’t, you would never come back to me.”

“I was never yours to keep.”

“You went to fuck Kakucho in the middle of an important deal!” He was grasping at straws.

“No I didn’t! If you listened instead of going off the handle, you would know I saw Hanma. How do you think I found out Kisaki was dead?”

Mikey’s brows pinched, knowing he was in the wrong, but refused to admit it.  The train came barrelling in, tousling both of your hair. It came to a slow crawl, Mikey was out of time. 

“You’re mine.”

He bent down as if to kiss you again and you punched him so hard his head whipped to the side. Pushing him off you, you hightailed to the opened doors. 

“Don't make me shoot you!” He cried. 

Ignore his words, you raced to the gaping door.  A scream erupted when a bullet hit your shoulder. The sound was muffled by the blood pumping in your ears.  You stumbled on your feet but you clutched the bleeding arm. Going sideways, you barreled into the closing train doors. As they closed, you rested your forehead against the glass.

You jumped when Mikey slammed onto the glass, his face thunderous and filled with ill intent. He was already on the phone with someone. You could only guess who.

Smirking at him, relishing in your small victory, you raised a bloody hand and flipped him off. 

He hit the door with the butt of the gun, barely making a dent.  The train kicked into motion and you waved goodbye at him as he merely glared, watching you fly away from him.

You take a seat still clutching your bleeding arm. At this point you were surely going to pass out from either the shock or blood loss, but a smile stayed on your face. Mikey was going to have all of Japan locked down by the time you reach the end of the line, but you savored your small moment of peace.

Come morning, you were going to be slung back at the beginning. But you have done this cycle before and you were going to do it again and again until either you or Mikey break. 

i tastes good fic here.

The Sun Eats the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping, pregnancy kink(?))

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

WC: 9.4k

𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

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