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hai7ani · 8 months

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GMFU... ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა haitani rindou

nsfw (smut) mdni

boyfriend!haitani rindou who loves absolutely nothing more than hearing your pretty moans and desperate whimpers as he fucks you perfectly dumb.

all of it: the way your tits are bouncing against his chest from his deep thrusts, your freshly done acrylics clawing at his back and he hisses from the stinging sensation, your loud pornographic moans echoing in the bedroom of his shared apartment that smells like nothing but sex and weed, and the way you're clinging onto him for dear life as he kisses your forehead gently with a hush and you cum on his fat cock . . .

rindou fucking loves it.

"i know, baby. 'feels real good, don't it?"

you can't even respond to him. of course you can't -- not when he's circling his fingers on your overstimulated sticky clit while you're cumming on his dick with the way he's repeatedly hitting your g-spot over and over.

you're moaning uncontrollably, and the loud gasps and the bed frame knocking against the wall is enough to signify to the two of you that you're having one of the best sex ever.

and rindou's relishing in the way you're squeezing even harder on him than before. you're so tight. he's gonna cum before he even realises it.

it just feels too fucking good.

"shit," he cusses while burying his head into your neck to ride out his own high that he feels is coming. you're trashing around in his hold on his bed from overstimulation and he simply kisses your neck and holds your head in his palms.

"a lil' longer, baby. i gotta cum."

you've got fat tears pooling in your eyes while his pelvis is bumping on your puffy clit with every thrust and his heavy balls are smacking harshly against your ass. "so good . . ." you sigh as he proceeds to manhandle your body to another position.

he fucks even deeper now and you cum again, unknowingly with a silent moan and eyes rolled to the back of your head, drool dripping down your chin to the sheets underneath and rindou stupidly smirks at you, "got'cha feelin' so good, baby?"

you didn't know you were gonna cum, it all just happened so suddenly that you simply accepted it when it came, but it was different for rindou. he knew you were gonna cum again from the switch of position because he knows your body all too well. he's memorised every curvature, every birth mark, every mole you have and also every position you love to cum in, which includes fucking your pussy with your hands restrained above your head and a knee up to your chest with kisses peppered all over your face.

the guy's acting all smug and cocky while staring at your fucked out figure beneath him but he himself knows it damn well too that he won't last that long either.

and it's when your kissed-swollen lips start to pout and you gaze into his pretty eyes with tears running down your wet cheeks that his demeanour finally snaps into pieces. it shatters.

"baby, 'love you. i love you so much." you cry.

rindou swears he's never cummed as hard before.

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

it's the next day at the kantou manji headquarters that rindou is in the locker room changing into his gang uniform when hanma shuuji and madarame shion walks in.

hanma is fully dressed in his white ones and shion has a t-shirt on with the top of the overall unbuttoned and hanging loosely around his waist.

rindou doesn't like wearing anything underneath his because it gets hot quick and he's in the midst of pulling on the top of his black custom uniform when shion whistles loudly behind him.

"nice scars ya got there, rindou." he laughs and wiggles his eyebrows and it catches hanma's attention from beside him.

the grim reaper of kabukicho slams his locker shut at first glance of rindou's fucked up back. "which slut did'cha fuck for it to get this way, bro? share her wit' me too, i need it right now."

rindou throws the man a lazy glance before proceeding to button up his top.

"ya sure ya want a taste of her too?" he smirks with a dark glint in his orbs while adjusting his collar and shion lifts two hands up in the air with a shake of his head before immediately exiting the room, leaving the two men in there to have an intense staring contest.

but the thing is . . . hanma doesn't know about you. poor guy. and he doesn't know that rindou's once beaten up a man near death's gate because he tried to make moves on you. tried.

and it's obvious to hanma that he's touching foreign territory, but he just wants to push rindou's buttons a little further. after all, he's made it a mission to annoy all of kantou manji's members by the end of the month.

it just wasn't obvious to him that perhaps the slut he was referring to is actually haitani rindou's long-term girlfriend -- you.

"ya willing to share? i'm down for it."

hanma shuuji doesn't know what he'd just signed up for.

"take a guess."

his death certificate.

the next thing the rest of kantou manji knows is the locker room being absolutely destroyed with blood splattered all over.

"call her a slut one more time 'n i'll make sure you're dead by the end of it. also, i don't fuckin' share."

and haitani rindou of roppongi exits the room with his fists covered in red. not his, obviously.

". . . no way you assholes jus' fucked up my locker room." kokonoi has his hands up in his hair and shouts in pure agony while the perpetrator simply scoffs.

"dunno, dun' care."

haitani rindou is cruel, strong and selfish. he's not one to share things, and he never will. and when challenged, god forbid he lets anyone near him when he's angry, because they'll all just end up exactly like hanma shuuji, who's laying in a pool of his own blood in the middle of a locker room with shallow breathing and gagged chuckles.

"shit, 'seems like we've got a fuckin' lover boy in the gang, huh?"

BONUS:

a shadow looms over hanma's body on the ground and he simply smirks up at the figure, "what's up, cunt?"

"need a hand?" haitani ran extends one out for hanma to hold, only for him to slap it away before he sits up on his own with a lot of some effort, considering how rindou had just literally broken his right arm. his dominant arm.

"knew there was sum' fishy goin' on wit' that lil' shit, how he's always snoopin' around on his phone during meetings."

ran slowly squats down next to his colleague's beaten body and twirls a braid around his index finger, "you jus' never expected it to be his girlfriend, huh?"

hanma simply scoffs and spits out the remaining taste of iron in his mouth, "'thought it was jus' some random slut he's fuckin' wit', turns out it's his damn bitch the whole time."

ran stands back up tall and peers down at the man through his eyelashes with an amused smirk. it's not every day he gets to see the hanma shuuji having his own ass handed to him, much less by a fellow gang member where infighting is not allowed. he's gotta make the most out of this.

ran laughs softly at the man's temper and reaches down on his knees to poke the tip of his baton on hanma's forehead twice.

"yeah, this'll teach you a lesson. don't be getting too cocky 'round us now, dickhead ♡."

"screw you 'n yer' brother, bitch."

hehehehehhehee

can we call this ... the sex that started everything

reblogs are appreciated ≽ܫ≼

#r1988 #giggles #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers #rindou smut #tokyo revengers smut #hanma shuuji #madarame shion #haitani ran #tr #tokrev #haitani brothers

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melatonin-melanin · 4 months

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jirai kei as a trend and the inherent ableism and racism present within it

if you've been present in any japanese fashion or vtuber spaces for the past few years, chances are you've most likely heard of jirai kei. it's gotten major media attention in japan, and inevitably its popularity has spread overseas. what is still misinterpreted about it, however, is that jirai kei is a fashion style. jirai kei is a stereotype, as well as a subculture that features fashion elements. as opposed to the fashion aspects, the focus of the subculture is mental illness, and many people use the jirai tags and labels to find those with similar struggles and interests. you can learn more about the recent history of jirai kei as a stereotype here, and the fashions associated with jirai kei here.

jirai kei as a stereotype is bad for a multitude of reasons, but there are many people who seem to think that there's nothing wrong with the trend itself. i've seen many arguments in favor of it, ranging from "if brands are using it, that must mean the term isn't that bad" to "plenty of japanese girls are using it to only refer to the fashion, and they don't actually lash out at others or self-harm." its usage by brands and everyday people are true, and that much cannot be argued. the problem comes from assuming that, because it's something widespread in japan, it can't possibly be as bad as people make it out to be. if this trend were to come from anywhere else, i'm almost certain that people would immediately question the morality of it for several reasons. this is going to be a long post, so i hope you have some time.

TW for mentions of self-harm, alcohol and drug abuse, and child sex trafficking below the cut.

a brief rundown of jirai kei's origins

to start, jirai kei's original coinage before the trend has existed since around the 90s. it was used by misogynistic men to refer to women who they believed exhibited signs of emotional instability. this was applied to completely harmless traits, and the criteria for someone being a landmine has drastically changed over the years. for example, the first common identifier was simply "a girl who looks put together." this sexist usage still extends to present times, but now it's often conflated with the current aestheticized definition of the term.

the source of the current iteration of jirai kei

the modern-day jirai kei stereotype comes almost entirely from a gang known as the toyoko kids, who reside in kabukicho. this gang contains many members ranging from ages 9 to 24 who have run away from their homes and families. they have been known for several activities, but the most publicized ones are cutting themselves in public circles, papa katsu (underage prostitution), heavily drinking, and overdosing on over-the-counter medications. majority of the gang members also wear japanese alternative fashions, with girly kei being the fashion that's most often present in the jirai kei stereotype.

where does the ableism come in?

the rise of the aesthetic trend peaked somewhere in 2020, where a "landmine makeup challenge" gained popularity online and resulted in various people attempting to mock and mimic the stereotype for clout. people would wear girly fashion, act "wild" or "crazy" on camera, and, at worst, pretend to cut their wrists or even use makeup to create fake self-harm scars. i don't believe i need to explain why faking self-harm for views is ableist. however, the ableism is also present in the supposed "lighter" aspects of the trend, particularly its sudden association with girly fashion.

during the height of jirai kei's popularity in japan, many brands had begun to sell pink x black girly coordinates, advertising them as jirai kei fashion. it's incredibly important to note that girly as a fashion has existed for several years prior, and that multiple people had already been wearing clothing that's abruptly being labeled jirai. as a result, you have all of these random people minding their business suddenly being labeled as "crazy psycho bitches" because of the clothes that they wear. as if that isn't enough, some brands went as far as to promote the more dangerous aspects of the stereotype as well. with attempts to pander to girls who are deemed "yandere" and "highly explosive," many shops, online influencers, and companies had directly and indirectly capitalized on the suffering of the toyoko kids by encouraging people to cut their wrists, manipulate their partners, binge drink, and lash out at others to engage in the "full landmine experience."

mental illness in japan is almost never taken seriously because it's seen as a personality flaw rather than something that needs treatment. the jirai kei trend only set back any progress made for mental health acknowledgement in society, as people perceived as landmines began to be harassed for wearing girly fashion. more girls were approached by men on the street trying to scout them for prostitution, and people gave away their wardrobe because "others assumed they were troublesome" for wearing it. from another perspective, the anti-recovery nature of the trend has also taken lives. some people who felt that they identified with the term had fully embraced the lifestyle that was commercialized and promoted as something "cute and fun," resulting in more people running away from home to be like the toyoko kids. these people, who have essentially been failed by the system, are simultaneously fetishized and shunned for the fact that they're struggling.

well, what about the racism?

the racism present in the jirai kei trend, from what i've seen, mainly comes from overseas communities. the perception that many people have of jirai kei tends to have its roots in orientalism. if you've ever witnessed how people tend to glorify japan in almost every context, this shouldn't be too surprising. what's concerning, however, is that much of this glorification of jirai still goes unacknowledged by the western j-fashion community.

when jirai kei gained popularity in japan's mainstream, people mistook the name of the stereotype for the name of the fashion. this mindset also translated over to western spaces without a second thought. as a result, when jirai kei as a stereotype was formally introduced to overseas j-fashion communities, some were confused and oddly adamant. it seemed like people thought, "there's no way that japan would endorse something so horrible. there has to be different explanations!" regardless of whether this idea was conscious or subconscious, it had begun what people now call "jirai discourse" in the community. many arguments were made in favor of using jirai kei to refer solely to girly fashion, as opposed to recognizing its origins and continuous usage as a derogatory term. an especially common viewpoint that's perpetuated is that jirai kei has been reclaimed or is in the process of being reclaimed, which is something that has several things wrong with it.

problems with thinking that jirai is "reclaimed, so it's fine to use"

firstly, reclamation is subjective. the assumption that the entirety of a minority group makes the unanimous decision to reclaim a term is frankly just implausible. even more popular words that are thrown around more casually nowadays are still debated in some circles on whether or not they should be used. for a term like jirai kei, something fairly recently coined and undoubtedly controversial in most contexts, the mere idea of reclamation amongst anyone would have to take a much longer time, and that's only if the stereotype starts getting taken seriously.

secondly, the only people who have the right to consider reclamation are the people who are directly affected by the usage of this term, which would be feminine-presenting native japanese people who are mentally ill. people overseas have argued in favor of reclaiming the term despite not being a part of the group that the term is actually used against. this is not something where you can take apart the criteria and suddenly claim that you're also affected by jirai kei's usage. for a comparison that may be easily understood, that's like if a nonblack woman tried to advocate for the reclamation of the "mammy" stereotype, which stereotypes and therefore only affects the perception of black women. just because both groups consist of women, that doesn't mean they have the exact same experience with the stereotype in question, even if they happen to resonate with some aspect of it. unless you've grown up in japan as someone afab and/or feminine-presenting and have struggled with mental health, it's nearly impossible to fully identify with the extent of jirai kei's harm because it's occurred in such a specific set of circumstances to a specific group of people. the only thing that should be done in this case is doing your research on the affected group, which you can do by looking into the history of the toyoko kids and some of the individual stories of the members. that way, you can at least attain a better understanding of their perspectives and connect the effects of jirai kei to their struggles.

lastly, it is not reclaiming to simply use the term for yourself. this tends to be where the idea of jirai kei being reclaimed comes from, because many japanese girls on social media use the term to refer to themselves as well. in these instances, there are typically two separate reasons: one, the person is pretending to be a landmine for clout; or two, they genuinely identify with the derogatory meaning of the term. the latter is often the case, since there's not many other ways for people in japan who are mentally ill to find groups for themselves. when it comes to reclamation, it's important to remember that it's not simply using a word that was used against a group that you're a part of. reclaiming is about actively working to change a term's meaning into a neutral or positive context for the benefit of the group. none of these girls are doing that. there's no big effort in japanese landmine spaces to move the perception of being a landmine away from things like girly kei fashion, idol fan culture, or toxic behaviors, which leads me to the final section of this post.

it is not anyone's job to push for the "reclamation" of jirai kei.

i put reclamation in quotes because, although some genuinely may not have ill intentions, many people come off as having a "white savior" mindset as opposed to actually wanting to reclaim the term in any sense (which, as mentioned before, is not the right of just anyone), and it's usually for the sake of enjoying girly fashion without feeling bad for incorrectly calling it jirai kei. one of the defenses often used to propose that being seen as a landmine can actually be a good thing is that the people who do self-harm and abuse substances are simply "bad apples" in the landmine community. if they're not treated as the dirty underside, then they're seen as things to be pitied and sympathized with, but with the quick disclaimer of "don't worry though, not all landmines are like this!"

not only is this incredibly ableist, but this assumption being made by mainly white influencers is also rooted in the historical development of racism against asian people, particularly in the united states. if you've heard of the model minority myth, one of the biggest issues with it is that it heavily generalizes asian people as being well-mannered, good-natured, and upstanding citizens. as a result, anyone who seems to fall out of this generalization is deemed an "untrustworthy foreigner" and appears as nonexistent through a romanticized lens. this exact situation can be applied to how people tend to treat the issues surrounding the jirai kei trend. the japanese girls who are faking and/or making fun of mental instability for the sake of online popularity are suddenly being glorified as these ideal representations of jirai kei to be palatable to the western world. meanwhile, the people who are considered by many to be part of the lowest rungs of society and are actually getting this term thrown at them pejoratively are treated as an afterthought and not representative of what people overseas want jirai kei to mean. it's even to the extent where native japanese people using girly kei or being uncomfortable with jirai kei are immediately assumed to be faking their ethnicity or their japanese-speaking skills, something that many foreigners have actually done in an attempt to claim authority over jirai kei's usage. since the reality of the trend is so uncomfortable to many, people think that it's best to simply disregard it or dumb down its impact when that changes nothing. what has avoiding the topic of discrimination and fetishization ever done for anyone?

the last thing i want to point out is that, even if reclamation of the term was in progress, it would not be happening the way that some seem to think it is. if the term was being reclaimed, we would not have people (both overseas and in japan) still acting like the stereotype for tons of likes, namely by taking pictures of themselves in girly kei next to cans of pink monster while sitting on the sidewalk with someone handing them money. that is an actual image i've seen, and if that doesn't tell you that there's a problem, i'm not sure what else will.

#rise and shine #jfashion #japanese fashion #jirai kei #jirai onna #girly kei #alt fashion #alternative fashion

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harusaki-hugo · 9 months

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Teenager Scared Me.

The full version.

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Character:GNReader+Yamagishi,Takuya,Atsushi,& Makoto ft Takemichi.

Tags: Platonic.

Storyline:When a former Outlaws gang leader meeting with the most dangerous boy, leading to becoming five teenager babysitter.

"Thank you, please come again!" You smile at the last customer as you bow your head down slightly, watching them walk out of the automatic door as soon the door close the smile on your face quickly disappears and you let out a heavy sigh. "Damn, my face gets numb from smiling all day.." You mutter out, rubbing both of your cheeks, trying to relax your facial muscle after a long day. You wonder why you bother to open a cafe when you hate doing human interaction, but you live in a cruel world that needs money to survive.

"Gosh, please no more customers.." And it seems that your luck betrays you as you see four middle schoolers entering your shop, "Fuck." You mutter under your breath before you put back your smile. "Welcome to Night Cafe, what can I get for your four?" You asked.

The tallest of the group looks at the menu behind you while two of them scan the menu on top of the counter, they then whisper to each other discussing what to buy. 'God, hurry up..' You then notice that the shorter of the group staring at you, intensely, not paying any attention to what his friends saying. Being the awkward person you are, you give him a nervous smile before slowly averting your eyes away wondering if there is something on your face, you don't think you snack on any cream-filled bun, yet. "Aah! I know you!" The boy suddenly exclaims, rudely pointing his finger at you, this cause you and his friends to look at him confusedly.

"The rampaging orge of outlaws!!"

Your eyes widen in surprise before you quickly recover your composure. " O-orge? I don't...I think you get the wrong person..." You laugh awkwardly, rubbing your neck through your turtleneck sweater. "Eh? But.. I don't..you look exactly like them just a bit older." You sweat nervously as the boy keeps staring at you, "A rampaging orge of outlaws? That some exaggerate nickname." One of the boys laughs, leaning his elbow on the shorter boy's shoulder, this causes him to huff in annoyance. "I'm not! And it's not exaggerated! They earn that name rightfully! Listen, Rampaging Orge Of Outlaws is the nickname given to the leader of the big gang in 1997, despite being twelve years old they manage to get the title by fighting non-stop like an orge and defeating so many other gangs at such young age! They even neck to neck with the first generation of Black Dragons! I heard they fight with Wakasa Imaushi, the living legend, and won!!"

You sweat drop by this wondering if this kid is some kind of stalker at how much he knew about this. "Actually, what are outlaws? I never heard of this gang." The tallest boy asks his over-excited friend, " What is Outlaws? The Outlaws, known in full as the Kabukicho Outlaws, is a gang located in Kabukicho, Shinjuku Ward. The Outlaws practice a policy of isolationism, avoiding involvement with other gangs while punishing anyone who intrudes on their territory uninvited. While they may act very territorial, they are also very accepting of anyone who seeks asylum after being outcast from wherever they had come from, no matter what their past or history might have been. As long as they follow the ways of the Outlaws, they will be accepted into the gang."

"Wait a damn minute! How much did you know about my gang?!" You slam your fist on the counter before you realize what you just said. The four looks at you with wide eyes before the short one leans toward you excitedly, " I knew it!! You are the Lord Of Night!! That was the other nickname given to you in 1999, a gang that conquered the night!" You cover your face at your slip-up, sighing tiredly as you look back at the boys.

"Fine...Yes, I'm the leader of Outlaws." You lower your sweater to reveal the tattoo on your neck, just underneath your chin, it's a small face of an angry orge with a large horn that almost resembles a halo. " The Rampage Orge Of Outlaws, but seriously, I am impressed that anyone who knows about the gang since it already disband in 2002. Name's [name], what yours?" You lean against the counter smirking slightly.

"I'm Yamagishi Kazushi!" The one who you thought a stalker introduce himself first before the other follow suit, "So Kazushi, Akkun, Takuya, and Makoto. So you telling me you are part of some gang called Toman, and the reason why this kid knows about me is because you accidentally found out about my gang while searching about Black Dragons. Sound fair enough, my gang had a big history with Black Dragons." You lean your chin on your palm, " Why make you decide to disband Outlaws?" Takuya suddenly asked.

"Why? Well, first: Outlaws never actually get disbanded we just changed. Do you know a host club in Kabuchiko called Midnight Emperor? That is the base of Outlaws, we are not a delinquent gang anymore but instead...well, a yakuza gang now. I leave all of the work to my second-in-command while I'm here, gathering information." You explained.

"Why do I bother telling you all this? Forgot about what I told you, kids. It's for your good. Now, what do you want?" You shrug your shoulders, the four look at each other before nodding their head, " We want you to teach us how to fight!!" You deadpanned.

What did you just get yourself into?

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #kazushi yamagishi #takuya yamamoto #makoto suzuki #atsushi sendo #takemichi hanagaki #platonic x reader

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dabilove27 · 10 months

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Chapter 4

Chapter 3 | Next Chapter

Paring: Shuji Hanma x Fem!Reader, Draken (Ken Ryuguji) x Fem! Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Pet name “Kitten, Babe, my girl.” Fingering, some possessive thoughts, edging, light dacryphilia, female receiving oral, sex. Mentions of smoking. Let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: Hello! If anyone is still waiting for this I'm so sorry it took so long! Life has been crazy with a toddler and work that just seems to get busier by the day. Thank you so much for being patient if you are still here! We get a little spicy with Shuji but I promise Draken will come up in future chapters. Thank you so much to my loves @lady-lunaaa and @gixxie for beta'ing! hopefully the next one won't take seven months!

To say things with Hanma became hot and heavy fast was an understatement. After the date at the coffee shop, the two of you began to see each other regularly.

And Hanma spared absolutely no expense as the dates progressed. At first, it was just trying to fit each other into your busy schedules. With school and his work, the two of you tended to meet late at night. Hitting up small ramen shops that stayed open late or just walking down the dimly lit streets, talking and getting to know each other.

You stayed far away from any subject that might bring up Draken. Instead, you focused on your studies and trivial things about your family. But Hanma always listened with rapt attention. Whether it was bent over a small table at a restaurant with golden eyes bearing into your soul or walking through the streets at night hands linked together. It was weird having someone get to know you and to be able to tell them only what you wanted them to know. It was so different from the childhood friend who grew up experiencing everything with you.

But as always, you stuffed those feelings deep down because you refused to let the past bleed into this relationship. And Hanma shared with you–well, maybe shared was the wrong term. Hanma spoke in riddles and encouraged you to figure out his underlying meaning. But just like the night you met him, you pushed back with each challenge, you worked on reading between the lines and uncovering what he was really trying to show you.

So far, you discovered that whatever gang he was in was well known. One of the top ones in the area. It made your stomach churn to wonder if he knew Draken in his work and what that might mean for your future with Hanma. You also learned about his closest friend, Tetta Kisaki. Hanma would reminisce about the transfers to different gangs before landing in his current position. He described Kisaki as a "hard ass" but spoke about him as if they were as close as brothers. He also talked about being known as the former "Kabukicho Reaper."

It was comforting because you knew this world of fighting for power and living on the edge. But it also made your heart ache because of how Hanma shared all of this with you, and it seemed like he genuinely wanted you involved in his life in a way that Draken never could.

But again, you didn't try to dwell on it. Instead, you focused on your future. Because honestly, you still had plans to travel with your degree and were still determining if you and Hanma would be long-term. You chose to enjoy the moments with him now and take what would come as it came.

Subtle changes began happening, though, as your relationship progressed with Hanma. Summer break came, and that opened up a whole new avenue for your relationship. You were finally available at reasonable hours, and Hanma could adjust his schedule to take you out on "proper" dates.

And apparently, proper dates included fancy restaurants. Restaurants that you would've never imagined. Incredibly fancy sushi places with a month's waitlist, a classy place in a high-rise hotel in Tokyo, and a small but exclusive spot right outside Tokyo Tower.

You had learned that Hanma liked to wow you. He seemed to take pleasure every time your words were taken from you as you gawked at each new spot. But along with the extravagant dates, you and Hanma couldn't seem to keep away from each other. Just like when his fingers grazed your lips from that first date, it was like an irresistible pull to touch each other.

It started out innocent enough with a gentle hand holding and his hand placed on your lower back. But with every date, the pull became stronger. The first time he kissed you was right outside of your apartment building. Like a typical romance movie, he pressed a gentle peck to your lips, setting your stomach on fire. You couldn't help but lift your hand to the back of his neck and pull him in deeper. The world seemed to crumble around the two of you, not caring who saw the kiss that was becoming deeper with each moment.

Hanma took control, his tongue swiping against your lips requesting entrance. You didn't even hesitate, and Hanma loved that about you. He loved how pliable you were in his hands but also how determined you were. You were soft but strong, and he liked that very much. Your tongues met in a fiery greeting, desperate to pull the air from each other's lungs. But just as it started, it ended quickly. The two of you pulled apart to catch your breath. And while you stood there like a newborn foal, your legs felt like they would crumble beneath you; Hanma stood there, utterly calm, as if this didn't phase him.

He made your mind race. He made you want to chase him but he always returned to you. Just enough for you to catch him momentarily before leaving you wanting more. You had to admit it was exhilarating. But the next step was an intimidating one.

You had only had sex with a few guys during your college career. And unfortunately, they were constantly being compared to Draken in your mind. Not that you and Ken ever had sex, but you can't pretend you didn't think about it. But you didn't want to do that to Hanma. You had actual feelings for him, unlike the one-night stands.

All you wanted for your first time with Hanma was to be Ken-free. The comparisons would drive you absolutely insane. You supposed that's why you waited so long to accept Hanma's invitation to his apartment. Because you weren't sure, you were ready. But after months of dates and wandering hands from both of you, you were dying to see what hid under those suits he wore. Deep down, you looked forward to connecting to him that way, even though you were afraid to admit it because it meant you gave a part of yourself to someone else. Because after what happened with Draken, you didn't ever want to be that vulnerable again.

It's July when you finally accept his proposal to spend the night. You packed a small night bag with toiletries, comfortable night clothes, and a lacy silk black night slip that showed enough skin to pique interest but covered what you wanted. You wanted to be sexy but still play this game of cat and mouse you enjoyed with him.

Hanma was intoxicating, always pulling you in. You had no idea what his place would be like, but you had to say you were shocked when you arrived at the high rise in Tokyo. In the cool early evening, the lights of multiple apartments lit up the sky of the towering building.

Steeling your nerves, you stepped into the lobby of the grand building. You knew that Hanma probably got paid well by his taste in dates, but you never imagined it would be this well. Just imagining the cost of a small apartment here made your head spin. But you tried to act like you belonged in this place. Holding your head high, you crossed the marble floor, your heels clicked with each step.

The elevator was just as lavish as the lobby, clean and crisp with a pleasant ding as it notified you of its arrival to the floor. You quickly glanced back at your phone to confirm the floor. Fifty-seven, jeez. You scanned the illuminated buttons as the numbers climbed until you finally reached the final one. He lives on the top floor!?

Your anxiety twisted in your stomach as you contemplated what this meant. Top floors meant penthouses or lavish apartments from every show you've watched. Well, this whole building was great, but you couldn't imagine what it looked like up there. But you refused to chicken out, reminding yourself that this is another step to moving forward with your life. To move past Draken.

The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the top floor, but finally, after what seemed like the most anxious few minutes of your life, it pinged to announce your arrival. Stepping out into the hallway, you glanced around and moved out slowly as if something was about to reach out and grab you.

Your eyes scanned a hallway that matched the opulent entry of the building. In the middle of the hallway, on the wall opposite the elevator, sat an all-black door with the number "570" on a silver nameplate next to it. Hanma's apartment was the only one on this floor, and judging by the size of the hallway.

Steeling your nerves, you ambled to the door wetting your lips quickly–a nervous habit that tended to leave your lips chapped. The door seemed more oppressive as you stood before it, knowing what's on the other side. Knocking quietly, you hoped Hanma heard it so you didn’t have to be awkward and knock again.

And thankfully, your silent prayers were answered. Within less than a minute, the tall man you've been spending time with opened the door. And fuck he looked good. Strangely even better than in his typical suits and ties. He's dressed casually, a sight you typically don't see, but he still looks like he could kill. His hair was messy, and his glasses were off, leaving no barrier between his piercing gaze and yourself.

"Welcome to my humble abode," his voice was light with a hint of mischief as he stepped away from the threshold to let you come in. You had to stop yourself from gawking as you walked into the entrance area of his apartment. It was so spacious. With much higher ceilings than you expected. If it wasn't for the floor-to-ceiling windows that show the tops of buildings reaching toward the night sky, you would've thought you were in a single-story home.

Hanma continued to talk about mundane things about his home as you slip off your shoes and continue to walk through the living area and kitchen. Everything was modern to a T. You were shocked at how clean it is. You hadn't expected a bachelor's apartment to be spotless and well-designed.

"You decorated this place?" The question slipped out before you could pull it back in. Warmth reached your face, embarrassed that you sounded so judgemental.

But typical Hanma rolled with the punches quickly as he always did. "Why kitten, you hurt me!" His voice was overly dramatic as he made an exaggerated shocked expression. "I have style, you know."

Rolling your eyes, you forgot all about the embarrassment because it was obvious he wasn't offended, and you were almost positive you wouldn’t get a straight answer out of him now. The two of you made quiet conversation as he showed you around, from the state-of-the-art kitchen to the sleek living area and the expansive view of Tokyo.

But the sexual tension in the air was heavy, and the palpitations of what's to come thrummed deeply in your chest. Hanma's words seemed fuzzy as he opened the wooden door to his bedroom. It matched the house's aesthetic; deep dark tones of modernized furniture paired with lowlights make it seem more sensual than just a place for sleeping.

But again, what drew your gaze the most is another set of floor-to-ceiling windows. You approached quietly, scanning the entire city, and twinkling lights from multiple buildings and homes dot the landscape. It was absolutely stunning.

"Shuji, I didn't take you for the exhibitionist," you turned around to stare back into his golden gaze, trying to break the unsaid sexual tension with some humor.

"For you, babe? I'll explore anything," his voice was low, sending a rush through you. You knew that he would stop at any time if you asked him, but the thrill of him watching you like prey only charged the energy in the room.

You tried to stay calm and collected, but your heart was hammering so loud you're sure he could hear it. But Hanma had gotten to know you better than that. He knew you were swallowing the anxiety and that your mind was racing with never ending thoughts. He moved closer to you, lifting one of his tattooed hands to cup your cheek, enticing you to move closer to him. The two of you were so close your nose brushed his as he gently brought his lips to yours, as his thumb caressed your cheek. Some of your anxiety eased as you smiled against his lips, thankful you never have to explain yourself. He just knew.

The kiss deepened, and you could taste him on your tongue, sweet and intoxicating. His hands slowly trailed down your sides until it met the hem of your shirt and slowly slipped inside. Your thoughts became clouded with excitement as those last anxious moments faded away.

His touch was feverish against your skin as he slowly moved you to the bed. He carefully guided you onto the plush black comforter and then stood back to tower over you.

His black and blonde hair fell before his golden eyes as he appraised you.

"What did I do to get so lucky? To have such a gorgeous woman in my bed?"

Hanma usually always had a sense of playfulness in his voice, but this time, it felt more serious. You always believed the praises he poured onto you, but tonight his words held a different weight. Hanma continued to explore you, trailing gentle kisses down your chest. Annoyance from the barrier between you two encouraged Hanma to remove your top and bra; his fingers continued to follow the curves of your body as the tip of his thumb brushed over your nipples.

It was like all that time the two of you have been waiting to explore each other exploded; he couldn’t seem to pull away from you. He brought his mouth down to one of your awaiting nipples and pulled it into his mouth. You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped. He’s now climbed on top of you, his clothed knee between your thighs. You ached for any friction and contemplated moving down to rub against him. Each movement only made you needy for more. Running your hands through his multi-colored hair, you tugged him close to you, urging him to do more.

You watched him like a dog starving for attention as his hands quickly removed the button on his pants. But he was always in control and didn’t let you see all of him just yet. Instead, he returned to you, placing soft kisses down your shoulder, and followed the rest of your body until he met your clothed cunt. Every single touch, every single kiss added fuel to the burning desire inside of you.

Eventually, Hanma removed the rest of your clothing, leaving you bare against his black sheets. Hanma had only removed his shirt though and you ached for more. His long fingers skittered across your skin and down to your core, gently gathering the wetness.

"I want to hear everything from you, kitten. No one can hear us, I promise," Hanma purred as he finally inserted a long digit inside you. He was drawing it out, moving much slower than you wanted. But you couldn’t stop the whine that escaped your lips even then.

As he pumped his index finger in and out of you, his thumb found your aching clit, he began with soft circles, teasing you even more, pushing you closer to the edge. Your plushy walls pulsed around his finger as wet, squelching sounds met the large room.

"Look at you, already this spent, and we've barely started. Who knew you'd be so responsive."

All you could do is moan at his words, too excited to form a coherent sentence.

Hanma let out a dark chuckle as he edged your thighs apart. He cursed at the low lighting in the room because he would love to get a good view of your aching pussy right now as he moved his face closer. His fingering didn’t stop; it continued at a slow pace that was driving you to the edge. It felt a little embarrassing to have him so close to your pussy, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him worship you so profoundly.

You were getting more impatient, though, and let out a whine, hoping it would encourage him to give you more. And finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he added another digit. The stretch felt good, but Hanma kept his steady pace, ignoring the bucking of your hips. He loved the way you moved beneath him, entirely under his control. You are his.

You tried to continue to encourage him to pick up his pace to give you something more. And finally, he conceded, curling his fingers inside of you. He was moving faster, bringing you closer to breaking that coil that is so tight inside of you. But then his ministrations stopped, and you couldn’t help but cry, defeated.

Hanma repeated this cycle multiple times, bringing you to the edge only to pull away before everything breaks. It left you breathless and begging for more.

"You're so fucking cute, you know? Begging so sweetly for me," his voice was light, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond. Your cheeks were wet from the tears rolling down your face. A wide grin stretched across his face as he took his other hand and wiped away one of your tears with a swipe of his thumb.

"I've never seen you cry before, but fuck it's a beautiful sight." You felt your insides flutter at the praise. But still, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, your mind too caught up in a fog of pleasure.

"Okay, kitten, I'll let you cum now," his voice was playful, a clear message of how he loved toying with you.

Another whine escaped your lips, ready to have some sort of release. Hanma brought his head between your legs and, without warning, covered your clit with his warm mouth. His tongue moved expertly over the tight little bud as his fingers rammed into you.

And finally you came hard. A scream ripped through you, tired of being silenced for so long as your body shook from the dam bursting inside you. Your body began to settle into that post-orgasmic bliss, weighted down by the activity like you would float away on a cloud. But Hanma didn’t stop. He continued to tease you as his tongue glided over your clit over and over.

"Shuji!" you screamed, begging him to release you.

It all became too much, and you moved erratically beneath him, but he held you in place effortlessly. His large hands pushed down on your hips, leaving you no escape. He continued his onslaught on your pussy with his tongue, and you were singing into the evening with sounds of pleasure. Your eyes met his golden lust-filled gaze as he held you down; his arm was taut as you moved beneath him. There was danger in his eyes, like he was stalking his prey and finally had it right where he wanted it.

Everything was building up again, and a second climax roared through you. The shocks of your orgasm sinked into every part of you, leaving you numb. It was all overwhelming. You tried to get your mind back down to this plain, but it seemed to be floating away.

As you tried to gather yourself, Hanma moved above you. His warm hands, which were just ruthless moments ago, began to caress you. Soft movements of fingers grazed your tear-stained cheeks, and sweet kisses finally helped you calm down.

You looked at him again. The darkness of the room, only illuminated by the city sky outside his home, surrounded you. You could have never imagined a moment so raw for you, not after everything with Ken. Hanma was able to pull you so far away. Hanma was beautiful, with a sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and golden eyes.

Your eyes met his, and it felt like nothing else existed except the two of you.

"I'm going to make you mine."

Hanma's lips captured yours, hot and heavy, devouring you wholly. He pulled you closer to him, his hand wrapped around the back of your head.

You couldn’t seem to separate from him. You wanted to beg him to take you, but one breath away from him was too much to bear. Eventually, somehow, you ended up on top of him, every item of clothing discarded on the floor. His cock laid heavy between your wet folds as excitement moved through your body.

Every movement was driving you insane. Pleas escape from your lips as the head of his cock nudged your sensitive clit.

The two of you stared each other down, golden eyes smoldering in the evening as you finally sank down on him. You wrapped your fingers around his shoulders, allowing him to stretch you out. His cock was long and thick, feeling like heaven as it sinks deeper inside you. You took all of him, pushing his tip right against your cervix.

Slowly, Hanma guided you, his hands holding your hips as he helped you find a rhythm. It felt like he's waited a lifetime to feel you like this. He cooed sweet compliments in your ears over and over. His voice caught in the cutest stutter when you squeezed him.

His eyes were still locked with yours as you bounced on his cock. There was absolutely nothing that could tarnish this moment.

"You're so fucking perfect," his voice was low as he panted out the words. Everything felt intense like you were the only two people in this world that existed.

But the response you gave reminded Hanma why he fell for you. How you've always caught him off guard. "You're pretty good yourself, Shuji."

His hips crashed into yours as he allowed the emotion to fully take him under. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies meeting.

Both of you reached your orgasms within moments of each other. Hanma couldn’t help it when your plush walls began to pulse around his cock. His balls tightened as he spilled himself inside of you. You savored the aftershocks and the subtle twitch of his member inside you.

The two of you were silent, Hanma refused to pull out just yet. The distant city sounds and your heavy breaths were the only things permeating the air.

Hanma finally broke the silence with a low chuckle before slowly pulling out of you with a soft hiss. He pulled back and pushed a strand of your hair back while leaving a gentle kiss on your lips.

"I know this is cliche, but that was fucking amazing," he whispered as he pulls back, lifting himself slowly off the bed. You met his wide grin with one of your own. Hanma beckoned you to the bathroom with an outstretched hand, and you didn’t hesitate before gingerly getting out of bed and following him.

After that, you and Hanma became practically inseparable. Spending almost every moment of free time together when he wasn’t at work or you weren’t at school. Private moments were heated, and no matter how long the time apart, you reunited like long lost lovers.

Hanma still kept his work relatively secret from you, which you understood from your past with Ken, but you couldn’t stop wondering if he ever had run-ins with Toman. But you tried to keep yourself from asking and possibly uncovering something that would hurt you. Deep down, you wanted the best for Ken. You hoped he's living a life that makes him happy.

Days turned into months, and months became a year of being together. The flame with Hanma was heavy, devouring every part of you as the two of you progressed. And eventually, Hanma decided to let you deeper into his world.

He initially didn't introduce you to Kisaki because he wasn't sure how long you would stay with him. While most girls he had been with liked the danger of his job, they would disappear when faced with the reality of meeting his cohorts.

But you were eternally different from all of them. Hanma loved that you hold a soft part of yourself and a part that took no shit. It kept him guessing, constantly wondering what part of you he would get next. And that only solidified him taking you to finally meet Kisaki.

Hanma picked a neutral place, a small family-style restaurant with enough hustle and bustle that there would be little attention if things got out of hand. He didn’t expect things to get crazy, but he has learned over many years to plan instead of dealing with the unexpected.

Hanma gently ushered you into the small doorway of the restaurant, his hand delicately placed on your lower back. The smell of fried food greeted both of you instantly. He began to search around the restaurant. Kisaki had already sent him a text that he had arrived.

Dyed blonde hair and a shine of golden framed glasses finally came into sight. Hamna donned a broad smile as he walked over with you across the wooden floor.

"Tetta!" Hanma called out across the restaurant with no regard for formalities. The man with blonde hair whipped his head in Hanma's direction with a scowl.

It was strange that the two of them were friends. Hanma even said it himself, they were polar opposites. Hanma was loud and acted impulsively, whereas Kisaki sat quietly and planned everything to the last moment. But somehow, the two bonded over years of working together, from what Hanma has told you.

Anxiety churned in your gut as the two of you approached the table. You wanted to make an excellent first impression, but by the intense scowl the other man was throwing at Hanma, you were still determining how well you’d be able to do it.

"Don't you have any wits, you idiot?" Kisaki snapped at Hanma as soon as you arrived at the table, and you did your best to not let any weakness show. You knew how these men worked.

Hanma only smiled at Kisaki as he ushered you into the booth. The maroon upholstery squeaked under your movement and then Hanma's as he squeezed in beside you. It felt like you were trapped, in a sense, with nowhere to look except at the intimidating man in front of you.

"Don't be so sour, Tetta. I'd like you to meet my girl." Hanma's voice was jovial as he motioned to you with one of his tattooed hands.

Steel gray eyes flashed over to your form, reading every part of you with his piercing gaze. Kisaki didn’t smile or offer a warm welcome which only made you want to melt away. "This idiot won't shut up about you," he motioned toward a smiling Hanma with his head. "I don't know what you've done to him, but he wouldn't give up until I agreed to meet you," his voice was bland, uninterested.

Your mind fumbled with how to respond to that. And without thinking, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. "That's odd. Shuji hardly ever mentions you."

Hanma bursted out with a loud laugh that only made the other man send him a sharp glare. "I can see you picked a volatile one," Kisaki's voice was flat as he gazed at the laminated menu.

Hanma had to admit the little exchange only endeared him to you more. Your quick wit and unwillingness to back down made his head spin. It only confirmed that he was right to stage this little introduction because the only way you would leave this relationship is if he made that choice.

Thankfully after some smooth talking from Hanma, the tense atmosphere was lifted for the rest of the dinner. Kisaki only talked when it's about himself, and even then, he gave you very few details. But he listened intently when you spoke, watched you and took in everything, making you a bit uneasy.

It was as if he was gathering as much information as possible, planning a grand scheme in his mind with each crumb you dropped. And while Hanma played aloof, sometimes he was far from it. In this, you saw the similarities that drew these two together. The ability to analyze, intimidate, and then take prey down.

They reminded you of the guys. Mikey, Baji, and– No. You had to get him out of your head; this wasn't the time to think about Draken.

Dinner ended less than an hour later as Hanma guided you out of the restaurant just as he guided you in. His warm hand on the small of your back comforted you and put you at ease around the volatile Tetta Kisaki.

The three of you stood awkwardly, each waiting for one of you to extend a farewell while Hanma dug in his pockets for his cigarettes.

You finally mustered up the courage to say goodbye as the tiny click of Hanma's lighter finally reached your ears. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Kisaki. Hopefully, we'll see each other again soon?" You couldn’t help how your voice goes up as it came out as a question, not entirely sure if you actually want to see him soon.

"Hopefully not. I did this to make Shuji shut up and don't plan on any other outings soon," His voice was sharp as a cruel smirk met his lips. You knew he was trying to hurt you. Hanma told you he probably would.

It's all a part of Tetta's charm, don't let him get under your skin. The words rang clearly in your head as you plastered a sweet smile.

This only caused the man in front of you to furrow his brows in confusion. Looping your arm through Hanma's free arm, you leaned into him and stared at Kisaki with large doe eyes, spinning as much sugar as possible in your voice.

"Whatever you say, glasses, see you soon!"

You didn’t give him a moment to react or retort, spinning on your heel and taking your laughing boyfriend with you.

After being far enough away, Hanma's giggles finally dissipated, and as he stared at you under the night sky, he couldn’t help but utter, "Fuck, I think I'm in love with you, kitten."

taglist: @mor-pheus @lady-lunaaa @gixxie @kenryug (if you would like to be added please send me an ask!)

#shuji hanma x reader #draken x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fanfic #tokyo revengers fanfiction #hanma smut #shuji hanma smut #my writing #back home ch 4 #dabilove27 writing

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chatsurie · 10 months

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Big scary biker

It was a scary feeling. So now, twenty years after her mother had first given her the advice she did what she had once told her.

The young woman had first acknowledged that she actually was being followed after she had taken the third nonsensical turn and was now to add on to everything happening lost as well. The only thing helping her even the smallest amount that she knew what district she was in.

Kabukicho.

And even that didn't really help her predicament knowing exactly what went bump in the night here. Now it being ten at night this last thing really just added on to her already horrendous day. And even worse, her follower was slowly getting more and more cosy. Starting to holler at her and progressively reducing the distance between the two.

So yes. In Kabukicho at night without a damn way to defend herself because she had figured she could do the way to and from her university without her pepper spray, she remembered the advice her mother had given her as a five year old.

'Go and find the meanest looking biker around.'

Shouldn't be that difficult here, right? Sure she wasn't a child anymore so the strict ' we don't harm children' policy didn't apply to her anymore, but you couldn't fault a girl for trying. If worst came to worst maybe they would end up fighting over who would get to have her and she could make a quick get away then.

Nearly in a jog now, she quickened her steps. Maybe she would even find a street that wasn't seemingly abandoned and she would be able to just loose him in the bustle of the night?

Please?

This couldn't happen to her.

So deep in her thoughts and still most concerned with the man behind her still gaining on her, she nearly missed the opening door of a bar just a few meters ahead of her.

A man had stepped out. There was something about his posture leaning against the railing while taking a drag from his cigarette that was frighteningly familiar.

That couldn't be, right? But then again, she didn't think she would ever forget the way he held himself.

“Wakasa?” she whispered. Wakasa Imaushi had once been one of her greatest fear having lived in the same neighbourhood as him and therefore in the same neighbourhood he had ran his Gang in. Her twin brother had lost some money to him from time to time. Sometimes coming home late and beaten up by some of Wakasa's cronies. Whenever she had seen him outside she had crossed the street and kept her head down. The thought of avenging her brother for all the pain he had had to tolerate never even crossing her mind after the first time she had looked into his frighteningly bored eyes.

Now, that same Wakasa seemed like a saving grace.

If it were any other situation she might have considered that the way life liked to play her at the moment could be considered funny. Now however, she simply sped up again.

However before she could completely reach him, she felt a hand clamp around her wrist.

“I think you've played hard to get for enough time now. Come on Babe, come home with me. I can show you a good time.”

The grip he had on her itched on her skin.

“I don't want to,” She told the man clearly, “just leave me the fuck alone!”

The stranger rolled his eyes starting to pull her into him, while she struggled. “Come on. I know you want it too.”

“No, I fucking don't fucking creep! I'll scream if you don't let go of me right now!” The young woman spat at him as sharp as her terrified state let her.

“And what? Think that guy over there would save you? Baby. He's what five foot something? I'd body him in a second. Don't tell me you wanna be responsible for someone ending up in the hospital?”

God he was fucking gross. And hurting Wakasa? She had never seen anyone come even close. Trying to kick him in his balls to get just the tiniest bit closer to the white Leopard failed horrendously as he simply blocked her. She hadn't been fast enough.

She really needed some fucking training. What if she ended up in a similar situation again?

“That was a dirty move, Darling.” The man snapped, starting to twist her wrist.

That was enough.

“Wakasa!” The scream was accompanied with an excruciating crack of her wrist.

She wasn't able to turn around to see if the man had heard her. She was much too occupied trying to get out of the man's grip that hurt even more now. Tears slowly building in her eyes.

Please. Please he had to have heard her!

She didn't have to wander much longer as a well known drawl was heard behind her.

“What 'cha doing with the lady, man?” He had always sounded uninterested in everything but when you knew him you were able to detect a certain coldness. One she had had to hear often enough during her childhood, while hiding behind her brother terrified.

Now that she thought about it, at least he had never broken a fucking bone.

“None of your business, pal. Move along and just forget what you saw. Nothings going on here. My girlfriends just drunk.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” The experienced fighter whispered nearly to himself, “is that what they call this shit these days? Man I'm getting old. Ya know,” he went on a bit louder, while putting a hand on the strangers wrist in turn, “I know this one quite well. And I know for a fact woman's smart enough to not be with someone like you. So I'll be real nice here and give you one last chance to let go of someone who's under my fucking protection.”

The man who was still holding her wrist in a hurtful way spat on the ground next to Wakasa's feet. “What you got a crush on her? We can share ya know?”

That seemed to be the last straw the man had needed. She had only heard a whooshing sound as Wakasa's foot made contact with the man's stomach, finally freeing her hand as he stumbled backwards.

“Get into the fucking bar,” Wakasa told her an angry glimmer in his eyes, “Shin and Benkei are there too.” She had never seen him that angry.

Nodding at him she whispered a small thanks before basically sprinting to the bar still a little distance away.

She remembered Shinichiro clearly. Wakasa had mellowed down just the tiniest bit, after he had joined the charismatic man. Shin had always been nice to her brother and her.

And now, looking at him, seemingly unsuccessfully trying to chat up the waitress, it seemed like he had never changed.

Cradling her wrist against her chest she slowly made her way up to the two men as Benkei laughed at Shinichiro's despair after the waitress had left.

“He-” clearing her throat she tried again just the tiniest bit louder, “Hey guys.”

Both men turned around, a surprised look in their eyes.

“Who are-” Benkei started a pensive look in his eyes probably trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar, before Shin made the connection.

“Yo (Name), how are ya. I haven't seen you in some time. How's your brother? What are you even doing here. Isn't it a bit late? Kabukicho is dangerous ya know?”

Pulling out a chair with her unhurt wrist she plopped down on a chair.

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Pull back a lil'. That's (Name)? Damn you grew up fast. Still remember you as a little runt.”

A blush slowly creeping up, she rubbed her neck. “Well, I obviously grew up,” she told him defensively.

“Wait, you came in here, despite seeing Wakasa? He did go out to smoke. I thought you were still terrified of him? I told him he should apologise to you and your brother.” Shin chimed in as well.

Scratching the skin of her arm in discomfort she nodded, “yeah, I actually uh, spoke to him. He uh, told me you guys were in here.”

“You alright?” Benkei asked her, after throwing an inquisitive look down her, “what the fuck happened with your wrist?”

Gulping she took a sip out of Shinichiro's glass of water that stood next to her. Her hands still shaking.

“There uh, there was this guy that followed me? I kinda accidentaly ended up in Kabukicho trying to shake him and um, well, we kind of got into this ruffle just a short distance away from the bar and anyways, Waka- Wakasa is currently dealing with him.”

“The fuck?!” Shinichiro called.

“I'm taking her to the hospital now,” a bored voice came from right behind her chair, nearly sending her into a heart attack. God did he always have to be this fucking silent? “Maybe deal with the piece of shit lying outside though? I don't exactly want a murder charge on me. Annoying as hell.

Benkei and Shinichiro nodded as she got up with the two of them, following the three men outside, after they had paid.

Avoiding to even throw a glance towards the direction everything happened, the woman busied herself with trying to get to terms with the fact that she would need to get on a bike. God, she hated bikes. Her brother sometimes took her and he drove like a fucking lunatic. It was a wonder he was still alive.

“Come on. We need to get this looked at.” Wakasa called out to her, holding out a helmet, before realising she would have trouble putting it on.

As he stepped closer and put the helmet on her surprisingly gentle she felt her heart speeding up again. This time out of a different reason. Why did he have to smell so good?

A shiver went down her spine as his bruised knuckles came into contact with the skin on her neck, as he fastened the helmet with a click.

“Now. Lets get you to the hospital. You sure you can do the ride without panicking? You've been weirdly calm the whole time. If you need anything just pull my shirt.”

I think the adrenaline is still doing a good job. My wrist doesn't even hurt yet.”

Wakasa looked away. For a short second she could have sworn to see something like guilt swarm in his eyes.

“Sorry. I didn't realize until you screamed.”

She shook her head as she got on behind him. “No, it's fine. It's not something you expect to happen I guess.”

Throwing her one last glance, he carefully pulled her arms from the bike around his small, warm but most importantly solid waist. It was weird. She always knew he was strong. But now feeling his muscles under his shirt just made everything more real.

This had really happened.

She had nearly been raped.

Wakasa had saved her.

“Thank you.” She whispered against his back, as the bike came to life and just before he started driving she simply felt him tapping her hand in a calming manner.

At the hospital she had gotten a pain killer and something to calm her down, after the first panic attack had washed over her.

This was real.

And she had just been really really fucking lucky. If she hadn't taken the turns she had taken, if he hadn't went out for a smoke? If she hadn't called out to him, if he hadn't-.

Her thoughts were interrupted, by Wakasa stretching next to her, before slightly flicking her forehead. “I can nearly hear you thinking yourself into another panic attack. Your save. Everything's fine. I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise. And he sure as hell will never fucking touch you again. So no need to panic. I'm here okay? You're safe now.”

#wakasa x reader #tokyo revengers #sano shinichiro #benkei #assault #Wakasa for the save #anime and manga #just a little something I came up with to escape the crushing dread of exam season

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meowdarame · 2 years

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𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐠-𝐞𝐚𝐭-𝐝𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

masterlist | next chapter

pairing: bonten!mikey x fem!reader (afab!reader, she/her pronouns)

synopsis: leading an empire of violence, manjiro sano thought that he’d seen it all. but when a graduate research student begins working as a hostess at one of his clubs in the tokyo red light district, his worldview starts to gradually shift. there’s one, cardinal issue though— he can’t let you know that he’s the head of japan’s most dangerous crime syndicate.

word count: 5.0k

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI. no explicit smut in this chapter but sexual themes are present. mentions of sex work, alcohol consumption, and murder (to an extent). explicit language. switching POVs will be indicated by three red dots (…) whereas a scene change is signified by three white dots (…)

notes: after a month of letting this fic collect dust in my google docs, i finally finished the first chapter! thank you to all my moots who let me scream about the plot for this work <3 let me know if you recognize some of their cameos ;) i hope you enjoy and reblogs + feedback are super appreciated!!!

“How… boring.”

Mikey yawns as his fingers shuffle through the files on his desk, briskly skimming through monthly reports delivered to him by his executives.

Hostess club in Kabukicho experiencing a period of rapid growth. Ten percent increase in profits this past month.

It’s the same routine every day, all fifty-two weeks of the year. He sits at his desk, half-interestedly reading through status reports written by men that he’s never met before and will probably never meet— unless, that is, they commit a crime so egregious against Bonten that there’s no other option than for them to be executed. Only then would they come face to face with the man that they work for, the man that they’ve chosen to follow and give their lives to. It’s a known fact in this gang that meeting Mikey is synonymous to meeting your maker.

New hostess recruits recently started working at the club, and they are making good headway in learning establishment standards. Because of this, we expect an even greater increase in the upcoming months, considering that we have new merchandise to showcase.

His eyes flit across the page as he continues scanning the letter, but then his pupils land upon something interesting— a glaring red flag in the otherwise dull report.

One such recruit is a foreigner currently studying at the University of Tokyo, acting as a graduate student by day and a hostess at night. We initially did not want to accept her, but she agreed to work for a lower wage. She claims that employment experience at a hostess club is necessary for her grad research, which is why she was so determined to secure this job.

Mikey rereads the line again, then another time after that. Are his eyes deceiving him? How could the managers at this club be so stupid? This so-called “graduate student” could be an undercover spy for the Japanese police, or even worse, a member of a rival gang. Heat creeps up his neck and tints his ears red, but he forges on, reading the next paragraph.

We apologize for not running this solution by Mr. Kakucho beforehand. We took precautionary measures before hiring her, and all of her university enrollment paperwork has been verified. I, as the manager of the Four Orchid Hostess Club, promise you that we will keep a close eye on the research that she conducts and can assure you that no accounts that can be traced back to Bonten’s involvement will be recorded.

Of course, disposing of this “student” would be easy— a brief phone call and his executives would stage a little accidental drowning in the Sumida River. But something about this “student” intrigues him, because why— out of all the brothels in the Tokyo Red Light District— did she choose a Bonten establishment specifically? It feels purposeful, perhaps even targeted. There’s more to this situation than what meets the eye, and it piques Mikey’s interest just enough for him to go scope it out himself.

“Haruchiyo,” Mikey calls out to the subordinate to his left, who’s performing a daily cleaning of his beloved katana by delicately running an ivory handkerchief along its silver blade. “You know of our Four Orchid Hostess Club in Kabukicho, right?”

The pink-haired man’s ears immediately perk up upon the mention of the nightclub. “Yes, sir,” he starts, straightening his posture in his seat as he focuses all of his attention on his boss’s seemingly random question. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Potentially,” is all Mikey mutters, his eyes returning to the sheet in front of him and his brows furrowing as he rereads the report.

“Um, if you want, sir,” Sanzu adds on after a few moments of tense silence. “I can take you to the club. I’m fairly acquainted with the establishment, and I was actually planning on visiting right after we left headquarters.”

Mikey stares amusedly at his subordinate, intrigued by his final statement. “Why are you so familiar with this hostess club? Are you seeing someone there?”

Sanzu chuckles lightly to himself and shakes his head, the scars that frame the corners of his lips curling upwards as he smiles. “Well, yes, but not in the way that you’d think. You see, my kind-of, sort-of girlfriend works there,” he admits, gently rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand.

“Girlfriend?” Mikey muses, a teasing lilt evident in his voice. It’s funny how Sanzu is the person that Mikey is closest to, and in some cases, who he might even consider to be his best friend— yet he didn’t know about something as trivial as the fact Sanzu has a girlfriend. Perhaps he isn’t the “pretty boy bachelor” that most people make him out to be; perhaps not everything is as they seem.

“How come you never told any of us that you have a girlfriend, Haruchiyo?”

“No one ever cared to ask,” Sanzu replies dryly, to which Mikey stands from his seat, grabs his car keys from his desk drawer, and tosses them onto his subordinate’s lap.

“You got me there,” Mikey jokes back. “And you’re driving since you’re so acquainted with the area.”

…

“So you’re certain we can just walk in undetected?” Mikey asks as he chews with a mouth full of taiyaki. A few crumbs fall from the dessert and land on his lap, and he picks them up with his fingertips and shoves them into his mouth.

Sanzu flashes a glare over at his boss before exhaling, “Mikey, with the utmost respect, please don’t make a mess in my front seat. I just got my car deep cleaned.” He hits his blinker to signal a left turn onto the freeway, his eyes checking his mirrors and over his shoulder for oncoming traffic. “But yes, you’re correct,” he continues on. “We paid good money to keep information about Bonten executives out of the press. The public only knows of my name and not what I look like, and I’m assuming that because you’re our leader, they’ll know even less about you. We should be fine, just don’t go around the club announcing that you’re the notorious Manjiro Sano.” The pink-haired man flashes Mikey a cheeky grin, eliciting a giggle from the blonde.

“Don’t worry; I don’t plan on it. I’m not Shion,” Mikey retorts, and Sanzu howls in laughter.

After their chuckles die down, Mikey adds on, this time in a mild tone, “Did you tell your girlfriend your name, Haruchiyo? Does she know who, or what, you are?”

Sanzu’s hands grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, his eyes trained on the road ahead of him. He’s silent, licking his lips and furrowing his brows as he contemplates how to respond to that question.

Mikey’s voice snaps him out of his dazed state. “You don’t need to pop a blood vessel while coming up with an answer. I’m not angry, just curious,” he reassures him. “It’s alright if you told her who you are, as long as you trust that she’d keep it a secret.”

“That’s kinda the issue,” Sanzu breathes out, slumping in his seat. “I haven’t even told her my full name, much less who I am. It’s kind of a touchy subject, you know— your boyfriend who was once your client is actually technically your boss. Oh, and 70 percent of your earnings go into his already fat pockets!”

Sanzu shrugs, “Not exactly the easiest thing to bring up while on a date.”

“That’s valid,” Mikey replies quietly, kissing his teeth at the end of his statement. “Romance and our lifestyle aren’t exactly a match made in heaven, don’t you think?”

The subordinate shakes his head, laughing wryly, “It sure is a dog-eat-dog world.”

…

“Do you have any Pussy Fairy?”

The short-haired brunette glares at you with an urgent look on her face, panic evident in her voice. You can’t help but stare back in shock, confused by the string of words that just escaped from her mouth.

“I’m sorry, but what?” you inquire, but she doesn't have time to explain, a pink and white bottle being shoved in front of her face by another hostess.

“Here, Han,” the other girl teases, to which the brunette grabs the bottle from her co-worker’s grasp. “I know how much you love your vag cream.”

Han rolls her eyes as she strides to the door. “I don’t love it, but my customers do! Brings in more money!” She stops in the doorway and turns around, calling out, “But I don’t think you have to worry about money all that much, huh Cat? Since your gangster sugar daddy has you all taken care of!” She runs out of the room before Cat can throw a hairbrush at her, and the latter gives up her pursuit and sits on the chair next to you.

“So,” you start, still trying to process the events that had just unfolded. “Uh–”

“Cat!”

“Cat,” you repeat, filing her name in your mind. “If Han is putting on vaginal cream, does that mean that she’s going to be sleeping with her customer tonight?”

“Oh, no. That’s not how it works,” she asserts. She leans forward into the mirror and examines her fake eyelashes, checking to see if they’re secure. She notices that the inner corner of her right eye has begun to lift, and she grabs a small tube of eyelash glue from the edge of the vanity.

“We don’t usually sleep with our clients,” Cat remarks in a monotone voice, focused on applying the adhesive to her lash line. “And if we do, it’s because we choose to— not because they pay us to.”

“I see,” you reply, pulling out a composition book and pen from your bag. You open it to a new page and begin writing a transcript of the conversation. “And if that’s the case, then why wear Pussy Fairy, or vag cream, I guess?”

“The customers like it? I dunno,” she sighs as she screws the cap back onto the tube. Leaning back in her seat, she keeps one eye closed while she fans her eyelid. “Even though we don’t usually fuck our customers, they still get excited from knowing that we put on vag cream. It makes it seem like we wear it for them, gives them some sort of false hope. This illusion is enough to make them cum in their pants sometimes.” She throws her head back and cackles, humored by her own joke.

“So, how do I look?” she asks, flashing you a dazzling smile and fluffing her hair. She’s no doubt a conventionally attractive woman— curled chocolate brown hair frames her porcelain face; big, bright blue eyes sit just above her high cheekbones; and her rosy lips are always curled into a sweet smile or jutted into a playful pout. She’s also an American, a commodity in Japanese nighttime entertainment, and it’s safe to deduce that her good looks and her nationality have definitely helped her rise through the ranks to become the top earning hostess in the entire club.

“Beautiful,” you answer truthfully, resting your pencil in the spine of your notebook.

“Thank you,” Cat replies, her pretty features putting your nerves at ease. Perhaps that’s another reason why she’s paid so well— she’s able to make her clients, and anyone for that matter, feel at ease with her gentle expression. “You look gorgeous as well.”

You look down at the short and tight dress that hugs your body, giggling to yourself about the extravagant outfit you’re wearing. “I mean this dress is a little itchy around the nipples, but otherwise I think I look good!”

She laughs, “That’s why you wear boob tape!” Cat winks at you before standing from her seat, smoothing out the hem of her skirt before adding on, “You’ll do great tonight, newbie. You’ll get lots of juicy information to jot down in your research notebook. But pro-tip,” she bends down and gently snatches the book from your hand. “Don’t take notes while you’re speaking with customers— they won’t react too kindly to that.”

She delicately shuts the book and places it onto the vanity. “You gotta give them all of your attention. Listen to them intently and jot down any personal details that you remember after your shift. The key to being a successful hostess is being a good conversationalist and having a strong memory.”

“Got it,” you say as you reach out to grab your notebook, wanting to write down Cat’s advice, but she slaps your hands away. “C’mon rookie, what did I just tell you? No note taking until later! You’ll be fine; trust me!” She interlaces her fingers with yours and pulls you up from your chair, dragging you through the corridors and down the stairs.

As you step into the dimmed lights of the nightclub, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the technicolor flashing lights that illuminate the dance floor and karaoke bar. Your eyes scan across the room and stumble upon Han, who’s already sitting hip to hip with her customer for the night— a tan-skinned Japanese businessman with blonde slicked-back hair. From the way that he’s sitting so casually in his seat, legs spread wide and arm draped around your pretty co-worker, he could easily be written off as the average Japanese salaryman. But when you inspect his get up more carefully, you notice that his suit is tailored to fit him perfectly, and that his giant watch catches the light and glistens brightly even in the poorly lit room.

Cat notices your gaze. “Oh, him? He’s a high-roller that always books Han. He doesn’t come as often as my man does, but I don’t think that means he’s any less interested in her. My guess is that his job requires him to travel a lot and he only visits when he has a chance.”

“Ah, I see,” you nod, continuing to take mental note of your surroundings. Everybody else in the club has been paired off or is starting to make their rounds at each table, but you and Cat remain standing away from all of the commotion. “And which one is your man?”

“He’ll be here soon,” she cheers. “I’ll introduce you two!” She sways from side to side, shifting her weight between her feet as she waits. Despite the bright smile that’s plastered on her face, you notice the way she subtly gnaws at her lip, a sign of her nervousness. “Stay with me until he arrives, okay?” she pleads, but you twiddle with your fingers, unsure of how to respond.

“I don’t know, Cat,” you reply hesitantly. “Everyone else is already starting to pair off, and I don’t want to be the only one left without a client for tonight. It’d kinda suck if I didn’t get to learn anything during my first night on the job. I’m sure he’ll be here so–”

“Wait,” she interrupts. She squints her eyes, her neck craned forward as she spots a familiar figure in the distance.

“Eek!!!”

Her squeal startles not only you, but also a few guests around you. They pay no mind to it though, resuming their conversations with their hostesses— regulars who are probably used to this frequent occurrence at the club.

“Haru!” Cat exclaims as she runs into the arms of a well-dressed man with light pink hair. He embraces her, holding her face into his chest as they rejoice in being reunited. His thumb caresses the back of her head for a bit before she pulls away, staring at the man and shooting him a frown.

“Why are you late? You know how anxious I get having to wait for you!” She stomps her foot on the ground, but when the man presses a kiss to her forehead, her displeased expression fades away.

“I’m sorry, my precious Cat,” he apologizes, fiddling with the ends of her long brown hair. “I got caught up with something,” he explains, stepping to the side and motioning to a man behind him.

The white-haired man stares at you with a blank expression on his face, his dark irises eyeing you curiously. He’s handsome— there’s no doubt about that— but his aura is a little intimidating. And it certainly doesn’t help that he makes no moves to introduce himself.

It’s only when Cat speaks that your silent stare off is cut short. “You brought a friend, Haru? How exciting!” She extends her arm to the nameless man. “My name’s Cat, short for Catriona!”

The man takes her hand and offers her a firm handshake. “Catriona, like this year’s Miss Universe?”

Cat nods coyly. “Well, it’s technically a pseudonym, but yes like the beauty queen!”

“A fitting name for such a pretty face,” is all he says before pulling his hand away. In your peripheral vision, you see Haru’s eye twitch slightly, but you don’t mention it.

“Anyways, Haru and I are gonna find a private booth to sit at. Why don’t you,” she turns her attention to you, flashing you a toothy grin, “take care of our esteemed guest?”

Her proposal catches you off guard, and wide-eyed, you agree to her suggestion. “Um, yes! Of course! You two go have fun!”

The couple begins to walk away with their arms linked, but before she walks off to another part of the club, she turns to you, mouthing a hasty ‘he’s cute!’ and flashing you a thumbs up.

Anxiety creeps up in your throat as you face the man in front of you. He resumes his slightly menacing disposition, and thoughts swarm in your mind, trying to decipher what he could possibly be thinking. Is he silent because he’s contemplating how to murder you? Or does he just not know what to say or do? If it’s his first time at a place like this, perhaps he’s just as nervous as you?

Though this thought is a little optimistic, you’re willing to buy into it if it helps you get through your first shift.

“Why don’t we find somewhere to sit?” you start, and the man simply nods and trails behind you. You lead him to a small booth, where he sits down and crosses his arms.

“Here’s our menu,” you suggest, gesturing to the pamphlet that rests in the center of the table. “We have a lot of food and drinks that might interest you, I heard that the–”

“Water’s fine,” he cuts you off, not even glancing at the menu. “And something sweet would be nice.”

“Sweet?” You don’t intend for your surprise to be so evident in your voice, but the stranger’s remark catches you off guard. “Anything in specific?”

“Taiyaki?”

You smile politely and nod, “Yes, we have that! At least, I think so! I’ll go check and bring some back if we do.”

As you turn to walk away, you can feel his eyes following you while you walk across the club towards the kitchen. It makes the little hairs on your nape stand up and your goosebumps rise. You were supposed to be the researcher tonight, but now roles have reversed— your odd customer makes you feel like you’re being examined under a microscope.

You approach another co-worker who’s stationed behind the bar. Violet is what she calls herself, taking after her favorite color; she’s an ex-hostess who’s only a few years older than the other girls at the club, but despite having retired from a life of night time entertainment, she still works at the club, choosing to educate and oversee the new recruits. Her curly blonde hair reaches down to the middle of her back, and her hazel eyes hold so much warmth in them. Black tattoos traverse the expanse of her arms and thighs, which she used to cover up while she was working as a hostess, but now shows them off in all their glory. Much like Cat, Violet is an American and once held the top earning position at the club a few years prior.

“What did Mr. Brooding order?” she asks sarcastically, reaching beneath the countertop to pull out two glasses. “Let me guess— scotch? Or perhaps cognac? Something strong that will help him forget his troubles?”

You shake your head and let out a giggle. “Nah, just water,” you reply, leaning on the counter top as she fills the glasses with ice. “And some taiyaki.”

“Interesting. I never would have taken Mr. Mysterious to have a sweet tooth,” she muses. “Usually men like that don’t want to be sober when they’re at a place like this. Makes them feel less guilty about cheating on their wives and stuff.” She begins to pour filtered water into the cups.

“I’m not sure if he’s married,” you retort, shaking your head upon remembering the awkward conversation (if you can even call it that, since barely any words were exchanged.) “I don’t even know his first name.”

“That’s how it is sometimes,” she admits, placing the filled glasses onto a tray. She continues speaking to you as she grabs a plateful of the desserts from the warmer. “Some guys are like that— reluctant to disclose any personal details. And it’s your job as a hostess to make him open up— and to make him open up his wallet, of course.”

“And how on earth am I supposed to do that?”

“I can’t help you with that, sweetheart. That’s all on you.” She emphasizes her words by pointing her tongs at you. “But listen to him. Flirt with him. And when you see your perfect opening, take it.” She places the plate of taiyaki onto the tray and hands it to you.

You exhale, “That’s cryptic, but thanks, Violet.”

“Anytime,” she winks; you’re about to walk away but then you turn around, whispering to her in a hushed tone.

“Also, Han mentioned earlier that Cat’s client is her ‘gangster sugar daddy?’ Is that a running joke that I’m unaware of, or is that true?”

Violet cackles, “Honestly, who knows. I don’t think even Cat knows what her ‘boyfriend’ does for a living. But enough of them.” Her arms shoo you away. “Get going before those treats get cold. I don’t wanna have to throw them away.”

You laugh before carefully weaving your way around the small crowd of people that has formed in the center of the club. A hostess and her client stand in the center of the floor, singing a duet of some popular 90s love song that’s a few pitches off-key.

“Here you go!” you say cheerily as you place the tray onto the table. He nods, grabbing one of the red-bean filled desserts off of the plate. You stand awkwardly, watching him munch on the pastry, when he catches your gaze and silently motions for you to take the seat next to him.

You sit down and introduce yourself. “And what’s your name?”

“I don’t give that out that easily,” he replies in between chews. You feel heat creeping up your neck and face, your blood pressure rising over your difficult client.

“Alright,” you let out an exasperated sigh. “Well then, what do you do for a living?”

“Why don’t we talk about you?” he urges, tossing the half eaten taiyaki back onto the plate.

“I’m sorry– what?”

“Let’s talk about you,” he repeats himself, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. He cocks his brow at you, his lips curled upwards into a slight smirk. “Because in all honesty, you kinda stand out like a sore thumb at this establishment.”

Your patience snaps at his indignant comment. “And so do you,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “What kind of man shows up to a hostess club in a loose t-shirt and fucking flip flops?”

The man shakes his head and laughs dryly. “You got me there.” He uncrosses his arms and grabs a glass of water, eyeing you as he takes a sip. “And I wasn’t talking about what you look like, because you certainly look like a hostess, but you sure as hell don’t act like one.”

His words make your stomach twist. “What do you mean by that?”

He raises his glass. “Well first, a real hostess wouldn’t have just let me order water, which is free. She would’ve convinced me to upgrade to something more expensive, like scotch or cognac.” He places the cup down onto the table, the glass clinking on impact. “Second, a real hostess would’ve already started flirting with me, dropping love bombs and complimenting me any chance she got. And finally, a real hostess wouldn’t have snapped at me after one rude comment.”

“Fine,” you breathily exhale, raising your arms in surrender. “You caught me. I’m not a real hostess; I’m a grad student from the University of Tokyo doing research on hostesses.”

The white haired man finds amusement in your revelation, his shoulders rising and falling as he chuckles. “I fucking knew it.”

“Alright, now it’s your turn,” you snap back, hoping that you opened up enough for him to tell him something about himself. “What’s your name?”

“Woah, slow down,” he replies between labored breaths. He turns his body to face you, one of his legs propped up on the seat of the booth. “What’s your research about?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, contemplating on whether or not you should answer his question. You decide on doing so— there should be no harm in that, right?

“Well,” you start, furrowing your brows and biting your lip as you collect your thoughts. “There are a lot of misconceptions about hostess work, and it really doesn’t help that the Japanese government and foreign nations are cracking down on this group of people, making it harder for them to find formal employment. I just wanna do my research to dispel some of these myths and help fight to make their work environment better, even if it’s just a little bit. It’s a dog-eat-dog world for people who’ve fallen into this lifestyle.”

He nods his head a few times, reflecting on what you just said. “A dog-eat-dog world, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

You’re both silent for a moment, the sounds from the karaoke machine and people cheering filling your surroundings. He narrows his eyes at you, sizing you up— maybe even gauging your sincerity— but then his lips curl upwards into a soft smile, the first genuine one you’ve seen from him all night.

“That’s very admirable of you,” he admits. “Not a lot of people would leave the comfort of their social bubbles and choose to work in a place like this; most would probably do their grad research on something that could bring them money or fame. You might be a modern-day saint in our fucked up world.”

His final sentence makes you chuckle. “I’m no saint, but thank you.”

He stares at you quietly once more, and you feel your body growing warm. Leaning over the table, you grab a glass of water from the tray and take a sip. “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“I can’t tell you that. If I did, I may have to kill you,” he jokes, and you shake your head and giggle.

“What? You don’t trust me?” you coo, leaning forward and cocking your head to the side.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he responds slowly, “I just don’t think that you’d understand.”

“That’s fair. Maybe I wouldn’t,” you agree. His expression is softer now— his cheeks tinted a soft pink, visible even underneath the dim lighting; you’re certain that you’ve found your opening. You run your tongue along your bottom lip and ask another question, “Can you at least tell me your name?”

“I–”

“C’mon now,” you interrupt him. “I’ve told you a little snippet of my life story. The least you can tell me is your name,” you tease, gently tapping your knee against his.

He’s still for a moment, deciding on whether or not he should open up to you. He opens his mouth, a little croak slipping past his lips.

“M–”

He catches himself, immediately shutting his mouth. He turns away from you for a second, before facing you again.

“Ken,” he exhales. “My name is Ken.”

“Ken,” you repeat, voice airy. “It’s nice to meet you, Ken.”

He opens his mouth to speak once more, but is cut off by his friend standing at the edge of the table.

“Sorry to cut your time short,” Haru apologizes to you, bowing his head slightly. “But our buddy got into some trouble and needs us to help him out.” He motions to Ken, who kisses his teeth at the news. “You ready to go?”

“Do I have a choice?” Ken responds dryly. “Let’s go.” After pulling out his wallet and handing you a large bill, he stands, but you follow him.

“I’ll walk you out.” You smile softly, to which he nods.

You make your way through the crowds of couples; some men are too drunk to even sit up straight, taking a nap in the booth while their accompanying hostesses pat their faces with a damp towel. Cat and Haru walk ahead of you, just barely out of earshot; when you both reach the door, Ken opens it and steps outside into the bustling streets of the Red Light District.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Ken mutters just under his breath. “Our conversation was… refreshing.”

You giggle, “I’m glad you say that, because I feel the same way.”

He turns and begins following his friend, their figures growing smaller and smaller as they make their way down the street. Once he’s twenty paces away from you, you call out after him, making him stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Hey!!!”

He turns around and waves back at you, and from the streetlights illuminating his face, you can see that his lips are curled upwards into a faint smile.

“I hope to see you again soon, Ken!”

#red lights white lies #tokyo rev x reader #mikey x reader #tokyo rev smut #mikey smut #tokyo rev x you #mikey x you #tokyo rev fic #mikey fic #🎲.writes #🎲.fics

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gintama-polls · 29 days

Text

Gintama Episode Tourney

Episode 99, "Life And Video Games Are Full Of Bugs" It's the Yorozuya and Katsura versus the Shinsengumi in a video game battle! The second half of the Owee Arc.

Episode 38, "Only Children Play in the Snow" The gang participates in the Kabukicho Snow Festival. Who will make the most impressive snow statue?

#gintama #poll #gintama episode tourney #episode 99: life and video games are full of bugs #episode 38: only children play in the snow

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komoreibi · 2 years

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Hiii can I ask for bonten sanzu x reader with enemies//lovers trope something like chuuya and dazai...(if you ship them)

i haven’t really watched bsd but i’ll do my best to write a drabble! hope you enjoy it anon <3

(it ended more as friends -> enemies -> lovers tho… ) ( tw for drug mention ya )

ーーー

“sanzu haruchiyo… i was really hoping to see you behind bars, not leaving them,” you muttered as you signed off on the papers to check him out of the holding cell he had been occupying for the past two days.

“you were hoping to see me? i’m flattered, detective.” the pink-haired man gave a sly grin as he saw how tight your grip on your pen was.

“try flirting with me again and i’ll personally be warranting your arrest.” you sighed and slammed your pen down before turning both over to him so he could sign his name as well. “i don’t understand how you manage to evade proper persecution every damn time despite everyone knowing you’re bonten’s number two.”

this time, he had been arrested for the sale and possession of drugs in a club in kabukicho, but after a chemical analysis of the white powder in the sachets found in his pockets, they just turned out to be powdered sugar. or at least, that’s what the forensics team claimed with pale faces and shaky voices. and even if bonten was obviously known as a criminal syndicate, they also had too many fronts and made use of plenty legal loopholes that hid their practices so one could never catch them.

sanzu merely shrugged and uncapped the pen before signing his name. “and i can’t believe that you used to belong to the tokyo manji gang… yet here you are, some straight-laced detective trying to take down your old boss,” he said as he handed back the documents and pen before leaning in close, the back of his mullet falling over the more he leaned, almost brushing your face, “be glad that i still consider you an old friend, or i would have personally ended you for trying to get to mikey.”

you leaned back in your chair to try and get away from him but you were half-certain you only looked more vulnerable to him.

but how could you help it? his beautiful grey eyes seemed to be staring past your eyes and into your soul, making a threat to the deepest parts of your being.

you quickly stood up and turned away to file the documents.

“consider me a friend all you want, but i sure don’t think of you the same way.”

the only sound that replied to you was the humming of the air-con in the room along with the sound of your papers rustling. wait… did you just put your life in danger?

you quickly turned around to say, “we were friends in the past though. i mean… it’s just a little difficult for someone like me to call you a friend now!”

but then you saw sanzu’s shit eating grin. “really now?”

“ugh, whatever!” you had never met such a chatty criminal. it was especially strange considering the sanzu haruchiyo you knew was someone who rarely spoke up in the tokyo manji gang. you probably wouldn’t have even known his name if it weren’t for the fact you were assigned to his division.

but it wasn’t unwelcome. in fact, you quite enjoyed seeing him again and knowing that he hadn’t died in the process of whatever sketchy work he was doing. after all, you two were once considered ‘close’. though, you still wanted to be the one to capture him yourself.

“anyways, it’s time for me to get going.” sanzu grabbed his duffel bag that he arrived here with and headed towards the door. “see you next time, detective.”

“fuck you.”

“i’m free tomorrow night if you want.”

“just get out of here already! if the next time i see your face and it isn’t in prison, i’ll personally kick your ass!”

“looking forward to it~”

you couldn’t help the reddening of your ears.

#ah i wonder if this is good…#sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers scenarios #bonten #rei.writes #anon #bonten x reader #tw drugs

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izvmimi · 3 months

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cw: mafia au. graphic descriptions of violence. hyoga is part of a gang group led by tsukasa called the Pride.

It’s Saturday evening, the night is still young, and yet Hyoga Akatsuki lays on his side on the living room floor of a cramped one-bedroom apartment, with one hand propping up his head and the other gripping too tightly on a can of beer. He’s partially covered by a kotatsu, his white hair tousled, and shirt wrinkled and for a split second, as his television screen goes blank when he flips to the next channel, he can see himself in the black mirror and know exactly how absurd he’d look to his family if they could see him now.

Annoyed with himself, he downs the last of his beer and throws the can towards the trash can in the corner of the small room; it misses, and it finds camaraderie with wadded up paper and emptied containers of instant noodles. If anyone could see him now, scratching at his lower belly, tipsy but not belligerent, he wonders if they’d recognize how much he’s really worth. A cut above all the rest, and yet still alone on a weekend night, his phone not more than two paces away as this week is his week to be the Pride’s emergency Aniki. He finds the task stupid, but Tsukasa does not recuse him from the pool of capable older brothers to take this role. Now that he thinks of it, Tsukasa annoys him tremendously, particularly these days where he seems more preoccupied on group harmony than amassing wealth and power, but he’ll be something to handle on another date. For now, Hyoga thinks of someone else whose presence picks at him tremendously, although admittedly in a way he can’t pretend to truly dislike.

It doesn’t hurt that one of the contestants on the game show he somehow landed on has a voice similar to yours, down to the way you stress your syllables and the animated way you tell stories, raising your voice as loud as you can over the bustling club noises. He’s found himself watching the way your hands move to help you talk, and how they find their way on top of him when you press your palm to his knee or lean on his shoulder as you reach over to pour him a drink. He watches the woman’s wavy hair shift as she turns, and he thinks of the quick way your head turns when startled, your perfume wafting in his direction through the locks of your hair.

It wouldn’t be such a bad idea to text you right now, would it?

His nose wrinkles at the thought. What would he say? Hi? Hello? Sup? What is the reason that he, top brass in one of the fiercest gangs in Tokyo’s underworld on this day, is texting a mere hostess? Well, you’re an English tutor, too, he argues with himself first, then remembers that that is a moot point.

Who the fuck cares? His feet shift under the kotatsu. The stove is suddenly too warm. He pulls himself from under it, into a sitting position. Perhaps he should go train, he thinks, but he hates when a workout is interrupted, and if one of these damn kids call him today-

As if some demon heard the opposite of his prayer, his phone rings. He sighs, before reaching for it, then picks up.

A small part of him wishes it’s you, calling him, telling him you need him, but rather he hears Ren, one of the Cubs, come through the other side of the phone, panting and yelling at the same time. His voice drips in panic and Hyoga breathes deeply through his nose.

“Stop sniveling!” he practically hisses. “Where the fuck are you?”

___

It takes less than ten minutes for Hyoga to arrive at the center of absolute pandemonium in Kabukicho, and less than ten seconds for Hyoga to locate the cowardly Ren, wide-eyed and shaking as he watches his better squadmates attempt to fight off a grown man who’s now driving a knee into one of the Cubs’ chest, pinning him to the floor. Hyoga watches a fist land on the teen’s face, clearly one of many from the blood running on his face, and it takes him even less time to bark a warning - You! - and with a weighty slugger in his right arm, approach at full speed. The man glances at him, and steps back, and Hyoga can see the knife in his hand, but he’s much faster and the bat lands heavy on the man’s cheek, breaking his jaw on impact before he can even swipe the knife. Hyoga’s satisfied with just another hit to down the attacker, and once the kids cheer for him, screaming ‘Aniki! Aniki!’, he yells at them to shut the fuck up.

From his peripheral vision, he sees a young woman that gives him a worried look for just a moment before retreating to the young boy’s side. He hasn’t seen her before, but in just a glance, he figures that this is the woman Tsukasa mentioned, from the seconds extended look she gives him, trying to decide friend from foe, before kneeling beside Hiro’s bloodied, unconscious face. While she attempts to sternal rub him, Hyoga grabs the downed man by the hair and drags his face upward, flipping him over.

“Oi.”

The man spits in his face but misses due to Hyoga’s quick reflexes, and Hyoga lets the bat he’s holding drop to the ground in a clatter, before closing his fist and giving him a straight punch. He grins widely as he can feel cartilage give way under the force of his knuckles, and the sadist part of him is sated.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

“That’s right! Don’t you ever mess with us-” Hyoga turns and glares at the group of hoodlums forming nearby and they fall silent again. Ren quickly ushers the rest of them away, knowing he’s about to get an earful later, and Hyoga returns to his task.

He lets the man’s face drop, then sits on his chest. He spits this time, but the loogie lands, while the young man groans, unable to manifest the strength to do anything more than turn his head in pain and disgust.

“You know you ruined my night, right?” Hyoga asks. The man, nose bleeding, blubbers something unintelligible, and Hyoga leans in. “What? You looked real tough pulling a knife on a child a few minutes ago, and now I can’t hear you.”

Hyoga shifts and pulls a pocket knife from his pocket, flashing it. “Look, I have one too.”

The man screams, and Hyoga lets it close.

“Don’t worry, we’re just having a conversation. No need to go that far,” he offers. Hyoga slips the knife back into his pocket, replacing it with a cigarette, which he lights for himself, nonchalantly, uncaring that he’s still sitting on this man’s chest.

“You smoke?” he asks. Tears in the man’s eyes start to wash away the blood as he sputters and chokes, and Hyoga shrugs.

“Suit yourself.” He takes a long drag then crosses his arms. “Hey, don’t fuck with these kids okay? At least while I’m on the job.”

The man has nothing left to say, except leaving out a soft wailing sound. Hyoga turns to check Hiro’s status, and he appears to be breathing still, which is good, he thinks. The boy’s head is propped on the strange woman’s knees, and she’s cooing something quietly to him, attempting her best to be comforting. Ren kneels besides her and talks animatedly to someone else on the phone, likely requesting a car.

Hyoga makes note of the fact that she’s dressed up, more casual than a hostess but clearly meant to be seductive. He’ll ask Ren later for more information; all Ren managed to say while he was on his way was something about Oneechan on a date and a joke that went too far.

By the time he’s ready to ask the man more questions, he’s passed out, and Hyoga sighs, rising.

These new age gangsters don’t last very long, he thinks, but at least he was a good distraction from his thoughts.

#hyoga x reader #hyoga akatsuki x reader #mimi's notes #daydreams: dr. stone

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authorluvgxbby · 2 years

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The Delinquent Next Door - Part 2: Returning The Favor

Genre: Fluff?

Synopsis: Hoping to see your neighbor once again, you make your way home. What you don’t expect is to wind up getting chased by a gang!

Pairing: Hanma Shuji X Neighbor! Reader

Warnings/Mentions: Cursing, mentions of blood/injury, blood/injury, fear, suggestive mentions of SA.

A/N: heyyy luvs! Thank you so much for the support, it means a lot! Here’s a part 2 for the fic I had posted recently. I decided I’d continue with it, since I didn’t like how I just ended it off. I’ll be making more parts to this so stay tuned! (btw this one was a bit rushed, so I apologize in advance, but enjoy!)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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It’s been a week since the strange encounter with your rude neighbor. Ever since that night, the thought of your neighbor never left your mind, and it bothered you. As much as you hated to admit it, he struck your curiosity. You had pondered many questions that had yet to be answered from that night, which was part of the reason why you were so eager to see him again. After all, the smudges of blood he had on his clothes that night didn’t go unnoticed by you. He didn’t even bother to tell you his name. Then again, he didn’t have to if he didn't intend to see you again. After all, seeing him that night was just by pure coincidence. If you had gotten home by 10, which was the usual time you’d be back from work, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he was home.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you hold your head in your hands, hunched over behind the counter of the diner where you worked.

“Hey, y/n!” Peeking from your hunched-over position, you see your friend walking over to you with her usual confident smile plastered on her face.

“Hey f/n.” I replied tiredly. She raises a brow at you. “You're messing with your posture, sit up straight!” She scolds. You can’t help but giggle at her mother-like nature. Straightening your back you smile. “My bad,” you giggled.

Your eyes wandered to her work bag that was slung over her shoulder. You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You're leaving early? I thought you had a shift tonight."

Her expression falters as she reaches for the back of her neck, avoiding your gaze. "Well...that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Oh?

"What do you mean?"

“Well, I know you hate to get home late and all since your apartment is pretty far, but I was hoping you could cover my shift for tonight?” She lowers her voice to a squeak at the end of her sentence, wincing as she waits for your response.

“No.” You deadpanned.

Pouting she whines, “Oh, come onnnn! It’s just for tonight!”

“I don’t care. You already know why I don’t work night-shifts in the first place, especially since I don't have a ride to take me home!” You scold, crossing your arms.

Anyone who lived in the Kabukicho District knew that it was dangerous for people to walk the streets at night. As soon as dark would loom over, thieves, gangsters, yakuza, and all other sorts of trouble would linger on the streets. The last thing you wanted was to end up in a dangerous situation where you were bound to get caught up in and regret later. To make things worse, you didn’t even know basic self-defense, so it was a given that it wouldn’t be worth the risk. Which is why you always stuck to your usual 10 AM-5 PM schedule.

“But y/n, there’s no one else to cover my shift tonight, and I really need to be somewhere later,” she pleads, clasping her hands together.

You raised a questioning brow, “What’s so important that you’d ask me to cover for you?”

“W-well--I happen to have classes later tonight..” She trails off, gnawing on her lip as she fidgets with the hem of her apron.

“Really?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs dejectedly, “Okay! Okay! I just… I have a really important date tonight, and well... you’re the only person left to cover.” She shoots me a sad puppy look. “I promise I’ll owe you big time if you cover for me, he’s really nice and I don’t wanna stand him up!”

Now as much as you were completely against the idea of going home in the middle of the night, you began to consider the fact that your friend was basically begging you just to take over for one night. Not only that, but you knew that she was struggling with relationships and finding “the one” and now she has the chance to possibly go out with a guy that will treat her well.

You glanced at the desperate look she had once more and immediately turned your head to the side, trying to keep your stern facade up. However, your conscience certainly wasn't having it. Saying 'no' to her could mean that she could lose the chance to finally find true love. On the other hand, saying 'no' would mean you'd be saving yourself from a bunch of trouble that is bound to come along your way.

It is just for one night…

After mulling it over for what seems like centuries, you breathe out a defeated sigh, turning your attention back to your friend. You leaned towards her, putting up one finger. “One night. Just this once.”

She pipes up, immediately crushing you in a death-grip hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Y/n you won’t regret it I promise!” She squeals.

"Don't mention it, just make sure you tell me about how it went later, alright?" You groan.

Releasing me, she dashes out the door while waving off.

Four hours later...

It was safe to say that you, indeed, regretted everything you said. If there was a time machine available for you to go back and slap you four hours ago, you would use it. Here you were faced with a shadowy alleyway, which was the only shortcut that would get you back home without having to call a cab.

"Meow!"

Tensing up, you whip your head around until you're met with a pair of big green eyes and black fur. Sighing in relief, the tightness in your muscles slightly melts away as you knelt down beside the small creature.

"Hey there...you scared me." You coo softly, petting the bundle of fur. You take notice of the small, pink collar around its neck with a round golden tag with the name Midnight engraved in it.

"Where's your owner?"

"Meowww!"

"Would you like to come home with me?" Purring, it nuzzles against the palm of your hand. Your heart swells at the affectionate fur ball. "Heh, I'll take that as a 'yes', then."

Gently, you scooped up the kitten and carefully placed her inside your work bag. Looking back into the dark abyss of the alleyway, you swallowed harshly as you slowly made your way through. At least you had company. As you're walking down the narrow space, you hear muffled chatter at the other end of the way. Getting closer, you could make out a group of burly, gruff-looking men in matching uniforms with a weird logo decorating the backs of each of their jackets.

If that alone didn't scream 'gang members' I don't know what else would.

You swiftly sought refuge behind a dumpster with piles of trash above it, as you peered out from the side to get a better look at them.

There were at least four of them. They all wore black gang uniforms with the symbol of a snake and dagger on the back of their clothes. Among the four, there was a taller man with pompadour-styled hair and tattoos littering his neck and hands.

"Hey boss, did you hear about the Grim Reaper of Kabukicho? He took out another gang!" A scrawny guy with a scar on his lip, pipes up.

Grim Reaper? What kind of comic book type of name is that?? But...the way he's talking about this guy, it sounds as if he's the devil himself.

"Pfft, you really believe in that shit?" Another chimed, shoving the scrawny man on the shoulder.

"It's true! My guy over in Shibuya told me so m'self!"

"Last time I checked you shouldn't believe n' a scammer, those types of people lie through their teeth for a living." Their boss grunts, lighting a cigarette as he leans against one of the motorbikes they had parked along the sidewalk.

"Meowww!"

Fudge me. Your hands shoot to your bag as you try to muffle Midnight's cries, but alas, it was already too late.

Your heart began to pound furiously. You pressed yourself up against the smelly dumpster, careful not to add so much weight against it as you silently prayed to whatever miracle worker above that the men on the other side wouldn't come over.

"T-the hell was that?"

Snickering, one of them slap's the other upside the head,"Ow!"

"What're ya pissing ya self for? It's just a cat numb nuts!"

Dragging the cigarette from his mouth, the leader of the gang hogs out a glob of spit before turning towards his men. "Let's go."

Releasing a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, you looked down into your bag as midnight pops her head out, innocent orbs staring at your frightened ones. "You are so lucky you're cute." you muttered, scratching your fingertip against her head. She purrs in response. Sighing, you slowly stand up into a crouched position from your hiding spot, faltering a bit. An odd tingling feeling is present in your legs as it spreads to your knees. It was as if your legs had become noodles after sitting down for so long. It isn't long before your knees completely give out as you try to balance yourself on your feet. Falling backwards, your back clashes against the dumpster, causing it to shift forward. Like dominos, the pile of trash above it topples over one by one.

Safe to say that you were royally screwed at that point.

Soon you were face-to-face with the four men now towering above you, each one with a wicked smirk present on their face. Gulping thickly, you watch as the leader crouches down in front of you, reaching a hand out to grip your chin harshly. "Boys...I found the kitten." He sneers, while the rest laugh. You grip onto his arm, trying to pry his hand away, but the attempt was nothing but futile. He's strong and it's safe to say that the rest of his posse were just as overpowering as he was.

"She looks like a stray, boss!" one of them jeers from behind.

"Please just let me go a-and I promise I'll pretend I never saw you guys." You plead, trying your best to wriggle out of his painful hold.

"Oh, sweetheart...why so quick to leave? Come hang with us, we'll show you a good time~" he coos, using his thumb to caress your cheek. You felt sick to your stomach. Your body trembling, as you feared the worst by what he meant.

"Meowww! Meowwwww!" glancing over, the man turns to Midnight, who had long abandoned the refuge of your bag. She hisses. "Aww if it isn't her feline friend! Here kitty kitty!" One of the men from behind taunts, while the rest chuckles at the lame quip.

With all of their attention focused on Midnight, you make use of the opening you had. Balling your fist as tight as you could, you swing on the boss, knuckles connecting straight to his nose. Surprisingly, the attack worked, despite the fact you had zero skills in fighting, catching the well-built male off guard. He falls back on his heels, back hitting the concrete. The rest of the men behind him turn and stare in shock, too stunned to move as they try to process what was going in the split second they had been distracted.

Struggling to get up, you fumble past the men and bolt past their bikes as you dash down the street while clutching your bag. Your hand felt numb, as you squeezed it around the strap of your bag, your knuckles stinging against the cold air. Your legs were sore, but you did your best to ignore the pain and ache as you kept running.

Vrrooom. Vrrooom.

The sound of engines and exhausts rang in your ears. Looking back, you see the familiar group of men tailing behind you, along with their boss, as they sped up on their motorbikes.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

One thing leads to another, you crash against what feels like a brick wall, which halts your actions of escape. The impact forces you to fall flat on your back.

Groaning you still before slowly sitting up, reaching a hand behind your back to help support you. You look up and your eyes widen.

The said "brick wall" was none other than your neighbor towering above you. He had on worn-out jeans with a white Henley shirt and sandals. A cigarette was nestled between his middle and index finger. The back of his hand adorning a kanji you couldn't quite read, since your vision was a bit hazy after literally falling on your ass. He flicks his golden orbs down at you, scanning over your distraught figure. Leaning over, he takes a drag of his cigarette as he stares at you. "What the hell are you doing?"

Seriously??? Is the bloody knuckles and sweat not enough?

"What do you mean 'what the hell am I doing'? Can't you see I'm running for my life?!" You scowl. It's bad enough you were being chased by a bloodthirsty gang, the last thing you needed was to deal with your neighbor's unsavory attitude. He raises a questioning brow as he keeps a calm expression on his face, as if he isn't about to witness his past savior about to be ripped apart like a rag doll. "Hm? Really? From what?"

His question is soon answered when the gang of men finally catches up with you. The leader with a bloody, crooked nose, parks his bike as he makes his way over to the two of you, while the rest of his men follow suit.

"Well you certainly know how to attract a crowd y/n." He chuckles as he saunters towards the men, placing himself in front of you and out of their sight.

"Hey pal, you know this bitch?" The leader spits, eyeing your shaking form that was slightly hidden from your neighbor's tall figure.

"Hmmm maybe I do? What's it to you," the lanky male remarks, staring down the leader with a sanguine look.

"Hand her over, she's gotta pay for my nose," he stated, eyes throwing daggers in your direction. "This is between me and the girl."

Furrowing his brows, he turns halfway to your direction, before glancing back at the leader. "She broke your nose?" he asks, bewilderment evident in his tone. "That's what the fuck I said, ain't it?"

A moment of silence fills the atmosphere, that is, until your neighbor stifles a laugh.

Is he...laughing?!

It seems the leader and the three men that accompanied him that was just about to tear you apart were thinking the same thing, since they were just as shocked and confused as you were.

Your neighbor's small laughter turns into a full blown cackle as he holds his stomach, his voice ringing out as he bellows in fits of laughter. "The fuck's so funny?!" the leader yells, getting agitated by the minute as he watches your neighbor continue to drown in his own laughter, despite the seriousness of the whole situation.

Wiping a tear from his eye, he composes himself, catching his breath before grinning at the man. "Isn't it obvious?" The leader furrows his brows, still confused as to what he had meant. "You got sucker-punched by a girl, that's what!" he exclaims, slightly turning to wink at you. "I didn't know you had it in' ya doll~" he teases cheekily. Heat rises to your cheeks as you quickly stand up and shove his shoulder. "W-what the hell? You shouldn't be teasing me at a time like this! Are you insane?!"

"A little. I thought that was obvious." He smirks.

"Your fuckin' dead!" Turning to face the now red-faced male, he uses one hand to push me back as he gets ready to block the charging male's fist. Stumbling backwards your eyes are wide as you witness the scene unfold. Your neighbor's right hand is wrapped around the gang leader's fist and he swings his left, aiming dead-center in his face, causing his broken nose to gush out more blood. The impact of his punch causes the leader to stumble backwards as he grips his face in agony. "F-FUCK!"

"Dammit, my cig," the pale-skinned male mutters, completely ignoring his opponent's cries of pain. "Why you-"

"B-boss!" the scrawny man from before chimes, all of them bug-eyed as they stare at your calm neighbor. The leader halts his actions, turning to face his cowering men. Pointing a trembling finger he states, "Those kanji, I recognize em'!" At the mention of the tattooed kanji on your neighbor's hands, you gaze at them once more. On the back of his left hand, the kanji "sin" was tattooed, and on the back of his right hand, the kanji "punishment" was also tattooed as well.

"What the fuck are you on about dammit?!" The leader glares at the now cowering men behind him. "H-he's the one! The one I was telling you about from my friend in Shibuya!"

Everyone, including you, had their eyes on your neighbor. Wait, what?

"He's the Grim Reaper of Kabukicho! Hanma Shuji!" The scrawny man blurts out. "It's nice to be noticed," Hanma chuckles. "Now, you wanna keep going? I must warn you, I won't go easy just cuz' a girl's standin' behind me." Holding his right hand over his eye, he lets out a howl of laughter. "What are you standing around for?! Get him," the leader barks.

Despite the mention of your neighbor's infamy, the gang were still prepared to fight. Surprisingly, it didn’t last long. The moment they had stepped within range they were all beaten to a pulp after a few swings to the face. All that was left was their leader, who still kept hostile to Hanma. They exchanged a few blows, neither one backing down. The leader aims for a punch at Hanma's stomach, causing him to double over and get a clean kick to the face. He stilled for a moment, body laying slightly still as he tries to get back up. You gasped, fearing only the worse for your neighbor.

I can't just stand here and watch him get beat senseless! Think l/n, think! He could die!

Looking around, you search your surroundings for a weapon, hoping to help Hanma fight off the towering man above him.

"So, any last words, you little shit?" The burly man taunts, looming his foot over Hanma's head. Hand tilts his head upwards, a crazed smile on his face as blood trickles from his mouth. "Fuck you." He spits. Frowning, he brings his foot down, only to be stopped mid-way as he sways to the side, groaning and holding his now bleeding head as he slowly slumps against the wall.

Hanma looks to the side, only to see your small, shaken figure holding a metal pipe in your hands. Letting it clatter on the cement, you bend down, holding his face in your hands. "Are you alright? Where does it hurt?" He hums, "Oh no, I'm just fine, I'm totally not bleeding right now." He mocks, slowly getting up as he pries your hands from his beaten face. Your concern immediately washing away as you glare at him.

"Y'know, now I wish I had let him stomp you, maybe you'd have some manners squished into that brain of yours."

"Oh really? I doubt that." He scoffs. Sighing, you walk up to him and grab his hand, which he tries to pull away from your grasp. "The hell are you-"

"Shut up." You blatantly state, a serious look plastered on your face. Dragging him by the hand, you lead Hanma back to the alleyway, where you had found that Midnight still resided near the dumpster. With all three of you together, you make your way back to your apartment.

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To be continued...

Thanks for reading! Comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

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