Dumb

okay so i was requestic a hedonistic drug dealer ran you are obsessed with

you dyed your hair to be his type, you let him inject drugs into your veins because you like him, you dress into clothes he likes and he still is indifferent/uses you

first time i requested it it sounded better i swear

❝𝙉𝙀𝙀𝘿.ᐟ❞

BONTEN!R. HAITANI + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you do anything and everything for ran including his deals but when one goes wrong, you need him more than anything !!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; smut, angst-ish??idk very toxic, toxic!ran, he's kind of a dealer idk, drugs obvi, murder, car sex, praise, degradation, unrequited love-ish, reader is actually crazy, chubby!reader implied, protected sex (surprisingly), daddy kink, sa(not by ran), reader wears skimpy clothing, skin color not mentioned

You don’t know exactly how you got involved with Ran or bonten in general. As the day passed, the origin of everything seemed to blur more in your mind but you could remember one detail from the night you met and another from the second time which surprisingly had a big part to play in your relationship with Ran Haitani. The one thing that remained in your mind was how the older haitani brother looked sitting on that velvet couch under the dim blue and purple lights. You thought he looked so handsome and couldn’t keep your eyes off him but maybe it wasn’t such a good idea when you were there with your boyfriend who was supposed to talk to the leader of Bonten.

When your boyfriend began to talk to ‘Mikey’, you and him were squeezed between two of his executives probably for safety or whatever but you were so flustered. Ran was the one on your side and you couldn’t look anywhere but your heels because you were already a bit frightened by the presence of Bonten members. The fact that you could see Ran staring at you with a mischievous smile out the side of your eye did not make you restless at all, it made you want to squeeze your legs tightly and rub them together. Good thing you had your hands in your lap so no one could tell that you did for a short moment.

You will never forget the look he gave you when you finally got the courage to look up at him. Hearts practically formed in your eyes when you made eye contact with him and Ran Haitani never left your thoughts even despite what he whispered to you. “You’re cute and all but I’m more into blondes.” His voice was laced in honey and dripping with sugar as his lips grazed against the shell of your ear.

It was ironic. Ran was into blondes but that’s exactly what your boyfriend hated. No matter what hairstyle you got, as long as it wasn’t blonde. But now that you knew you existed in the same world as Ran, it didn’t matter because every hairstyle from then on was colored blonde and you even dyed your hair blonde and you didn’t care if it ruined your hair (good thing it didn’t.).

When your boyfriend told you he had to have another meeting with them at their headquarters, you were ecstatic! Not that you let him know it…regardless, you went with him after a bunch of begging because you managed to convince him that going alone wouldn’t be the best idea considering where he was going. Your boyfriend wasn’t a really important gang leader either, he barely had members and was still ‘up-coming’ as he said so no one was there to protect him like the bonten executives were protecting Mikey.

In the end, there wasn’t a point in you coming because they separated you both but you couldn’t care less about that because once again, they had ran looking after you. Of course, others were around like his brother and Koko but they were on the sidelines observing the interaction between you and Ran. “This a nice color on you.” The man said taking a strand of your hair and running it between his ring-clad fingers, your eyes were trained on his fingers and how he twisted the hair around his finger.

Sitting there in your tight dress, you felt a bit flustered and awkward “Thank you…” You said shuffling in your seat on a crate. “You got it for me?” Ran asked looking at you in your eyes making you even more nervous. You didn’t know how to respond and just looked at him nervously while occasionally glancing away “I don’t know, just thought it was cute.” You said trying your best not to sound nervous but he could tell. You weren’t fooling anyone with that little pathetic act of yours.

Ran stood from his squatting position in front of you and stared down at you. He enjoyed how you looked at him, so lost like you were helpless and he was the only person who could actually help you. Not that he really wanted to but…you were cute. He glanced at Koko and Rindou who gestured him over before looking back at you “When you find out let me know. Depending on your answer, I might keep you around…unlike your boyfriend.” The multi-colored-haired man said with a small smile on his face that showed kindness but he meant much more than that. That’s if kindness was meant at all.

You were about to ask him what he meant until a loud gunshot was heard from one of the rooms over. It sounded suspiciously close to the room the pink-haired one had taken your boyfriend in and it made your breath pause and your eyes widen in shock. “Sorry about him by the way.” Ran finally said before walking away from you to join his brother and co-worker. The three of them observed you and how you didn’t move at all after Ran left, you just stared down probably wondering what the hell was going on.

“You sure she’s gonna stay silent?” Koko asked throwing his hair over his shoulder and Ran nodded as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants “Yeah, don’t even worry about her.” Ran said shrugging his shoulders carelessly while he took one last glance at you. His grin widened at the sight of you already staring at him.

After that, Ran kept you around. From the start, Ran knew you were fascinated with him but he didn’t really know how obsessed you were though, it didn’t take him long to figure it out.

You were at his feet for practically everything. Sometimes he didn’t even have to ask you to do things and you’d just do it anyway. You noticed he took a liking to certain dresses, outfits, and makeup and you always did those but it truly depended on how he felt because sometimes he’d prefer you in a long dress rather than a short one but you still made it your mission to satisfy him. Even if he could care less about your satisfaction.

Ran never seemed to care about you, only merely entertained by how you acted for him oh and fucking you. He really liked that along with your pretty face. Not so much of everything else…but it didn’t matter to you because he kept you around meaning he cared at least that much and you could get him to love you more. Maybe if you kept doing everything he asked, he’d love you back, that was your mindset and it persuaded you for everything that you did like doing drugs for Ran.

Bonten was involved in a bunch of things, drugs included and it was no secret to those who were involved in Bonten in the slightest that Ran and that pink-haired guy, Sanzu were the ones mainly in charge of that. So sometimes you’d walk in on Ran either dealing with them or doing them and you’d join him just sitting there quietly while he worked but there were a lot of times he’d grab you by your jaw and open your mouth.

He’d ask you if you could take this for him and you always did and sometimes Sanzu was there, sometimes he wasn’t but his presence did not disrupt your decision. The first time it happened, your words truly made Ran understand your intentions to be with him and that you never wanted to leave. “Yeah…don’t even ask, I’ll do whatever you want.” You said while your body was practically shaking from fear as Ran held your arm with a needle full of something he didn’t tell you. His tie was wrapped tightly around a higher point in your arm and he was grinning at you sickly. To this day, you don’t regret saying that. You’d say it again and again and again because it was the truth even if you didn’t like doing those things. In a way, you needed him so you would do whatever ran wanted you to do even if all he did was mistreat you.

Ran would make a fool out of you daily just for merely existing. When you two were alone, he’d trip you, ask you questions that he knew you didn’t know the answer to just to watch you sit there look stupid and this one, he’d do just out of curiosity. Sometimes he’d spill something on your shirt or you in general just to see what you’d do and each time, you’d apologize for ‘being in his way’. When you two were around others, it was even worse especially if it was Bonten members you were around. Ran would flip up your skirts, grab you through your clothes, bend you over, and even call you over for some stupid sex thing he, his brother, and Sanzu were talking about so he could ‘demonstrate’. Well, that’s if you had any time with all the things you were doing for other members of Bonten when Ran said he didn’t care what they made you do.

It didn’t matter what he did though because you still had heart eyes for him. It doesn’t matter how embarrassed you got by the things he did because you enjoyed it at least a bit and he didn’t stop because he knew that. 

“Ugh, you’re so mean to her.” Koko said as he stared down at you who scrambled to pick up the many papers (that were his) that had fallen from your hands when Ran tripped you. Not to mention, you also had a scrape on your knee from the fall “Why?” Koko asked once more looking up at the laughing men with a bored look. He hardly cared for you but he wondered why you were treated so badly and endured it.

I mean they were laughing at you but you still sat there picking up the papers, you even apologized when you realized Ran had tripped you. “She likes it, it’s fine.” Ran said swinging his hand as if he was physically brushing something away. Koko narrowed his eyes at that before looking back at you and sighing “Guess you can’t stop a dog from following its owner.” He started putting his hand on his hip and turning around “Just don’t trip her when she has a drink in her hand, if it spills on me I’ll kill you.” Koko said while he began to walk away, you already knew where to go once you finished picking up those papers so he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

That wasn’t the end of the list of things Ran would do to you either. There was more that you’d let him do and a lot of the rest involved drugs.

You’d let Ran inject you with things, give you things, and sometimes you would just do it on your own after asking him just to make him ‘proud’. And it did make him ‘amused’ per se because he’s dealt with a lot of girls that were desperate for him but never anyone so determined as you, it was a bit funny. Each time, tears brimmed in your pretty little eye when the needle dug into your flesh and into the vein but you’d hold them back so Ran wouldn’t laugh but he would anyway. It was just so hilarious how far you went to get him to love you! I mean, you even started to do his drug deals for him!

You’d walk into those deep alleyways in your cute little heels and cute hairstyle that he paid for to give some addict their weekly supply just for him as he waited in a car across the street. Fuck he loved that shit, it got him going and gave him a crazy amount of pleasure especially because he didn’t even have to ask you, you offered yourself to do it. Ran mentioned one day that Bonten’s been getting a lot more customers coming to him since that one night he had you by his side during all his deal and you offered to start doing it for him since it made him so much money.

It worked too. More girls were buying because it was a girl that was ‘selling’ and it seemed more trustworthy and guys just came because they were perverts for your short skirts and tight pants; sometimes they’d get a bit touchy but Ran never let it go too far. He’d step in when you looked back at the space his car was parked in for help, I mean, he can’t let his prettiest dog get hurt can he? Ran hoped he wouldn’t have to get out of the car this time. As much as you were good to use, you were such a pain sometimes.

The sound of your heels clicking against the wet ground of the alley filled your ears as you inched closer to the man in the deeper part of the dark area while holding your purse in both your hands “Uh, hi?” You said awkwardly flashing a sheepish smile his way. You hadn’t even been here for five minutes and you were already growing uncomfortable with how he was looking you up and down. You observed his stature and how he looked not only empty-handed but sleazy…Ran wouldn’t like that very much. “Don’t worry, I have the money.” He said in a gruff voice which made you relax just a tad bit and your smile became more kind than nervous.

“Okay good, I have it too.” You said looking down ready to get the sandwich baggie but before you could, you heard a laugh come from the other person. It sounded familiar and you didn’t like that at all, it sounded like Ran when he was up to no good like when he was checking you out but it was okay when it was Ran and this was not Ran. “Is it in that tiny purse?” The man said rubbing the stubble on his chin and you looked away awkwardly and then shook your head negatively.

He met your eyes again “Oh, I know where it is then.” Your body ran even colder than this alley made you at his words. You carefully took a step back but when you heard a splash, you looked down and grimaced at the sight of your heel in a small puddle of god knows what. Ran would be incredibly mad if you ruined these heels, they were so expensive. “Don’t run, I’m just playing a little guessing game…” He grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. He treated it like an accident when his hand grasped your chest but soon his look of fake shock turned to one of evil while you tried to pry his hands away.

Your head turned back to look at the expensive car that was parked across the street. You looked away when you saw that Ran began to reach for his gun, you didn’t see it but you already knew he groaned loudly in annoyance at having to get up. You felt bad for annoying him so much…

Only one more moment of struggle lasted until a gunshot was heard and the tight hold on your chest was no more “Jeez, I can’t trust you with anything, can I?” You heard Ran’s voice approaching as you stared at the now-dead man. No words left your mouth as Ran came into your line of gaze to kneel and take the money from the man’s pocket, it was not shock or anything, you just weren’t going to say anything. Anything you said would probably piss him off and you were still shaken up from everything that had just happened.

His lengthy arm draped over your shoulder as he led you out of the alley “Give it to me.” He said not even looking at you. You stumbled a bit as you took off your heel, took the sandwich baggie from the bottom, and handed it to your ‘boyfriend’ or whatever he said he was to you before popping the heel back on. “Hey, stop being so down. It’s a mood killer honestly.” Ran said shrugging his shoulders but when you didn’t apologize or say anything, he realized how upset you really were about it.

The tall man grabbed your jaw and made you turn to face him “Seriously, it’s a ugly look.” Ran said harshly as you tried to pull your face away from his hand. Tears formed in your eyes and it seemed to make him even more annoyed because he threw your face away from his palm with a scoff. “I’m sorry, really. I-I just didn’t think–” “No, it’s my fault really.” Ran interrupted you with an exhausted huff making you look at him wide-eyed.

“I know you can’t do anything right unless you have something in that little cunny,” Ran said with a slightly mocking tone but you didn’t say anything and only wrapped your arms around one of his arms. “Right?” He asked looking at you and you were quick to nod at his question eager to make him happy. “Yeah? Well, we better fix that so you don’t mess up any other drops.” You nodded as you nudged your head against his arm. You were just desperate for him to be happy, you didn’t want him to be upset because when he was upset, he pushed you away. You needed ran so you’d do anything to prevent that.

“Stay like that,” Ran told you pressing his hand on your head and forcing your face into the backseat as he thrusted harshly into your cunt until he couldn’t anymore. Your makeup smeared all over your face and the bouncy seats “B-But wanna see you…” You whined as your nails dug into the comfy seating, you were afraid that the long acrylics were going to break. You got them just for ran as always, he liked them long because he loved to see those red scratches on his back with little beads of blood forming in the middle but if so…why wasn’t he fucking you in a way that’d let you do that?

Ran only hummed in response as if he was thinking “If you can turn around yourself, sure.” Ran told you as he hissed at the feeling of your cushy cunt squeezing around him. You whined at his words not feeling the strength in your body to flip yourself over “If you’re just gonna whine then keep your face in there. You’re lucky I actually need you sober after this.” The Haitani man said rolling his eyes at your noises of complaint. 

“Sorry.” The words barely registered in your head as they slipped past your lips. You were too focused on trying to lift yourself with your noodle-like arms, your face burned with embarrassment as Ran laughed from behind you at your pathetic attempt. When you managed to flip yourself on your back, you saw he was grinning down at you but you couldn’t smile with how your lips were popped open in a ‘O’ from how snug he fit in your walls.

Your hands found their designated place on his shoulders “See? Once you get stuffed, doing things I ask ain’t so hard is it?” Ran said to you while relentlessly ramming inside of you making the car shake. Your body heated up with embarrassment when you realized that you were close to cumming.

“Hm?” Ran hummed as you wrapped your legs around his waist, the softness of your feet rubbed against his lower back as you were disinclined to let him go. You always did that when you were close to tipping off the edge, acting like he was yours and that he had to stay here with you until you let him go. So needy for his presence.

Acrylics dug into his flesh leaving red scratch marks along his shoulder blades “Wow, you’re already cumming? I haven’t even gotten close yet!” Ran teased whilst pressing down on your stomach making your back arch up from the seating with a groan leaving your lips. You squirmed under his palm taking your hands off him to push away his hand but he didn’t budge an inch and only leaned further down to you.

His lips barely brushed over your ear “Well guess what? You’re holding it ‘till I say so.” The purple-eyed man told you while backing away to look you in your glossed-over eyes. “You’re so mean.” Ran once again laughed at you. Out of all the things he’s done to you, this is the meanest? You’re a joke. “Hey now, I’m not neglecting you. Just gotta be fuckin’ patient.” Ran said closing his eyes and grinding his teeth at how you tightened around him just silently pleading for him to let you have your release.

Ran’s thrusts got harsher and faster as he was fishing for his own orgasm, no longer focused on yours. That’s if he even was in the first place. He bullied his cock against your g-spot while he threw his head back while his groans were overcome by your incredibly loud moans. This was probably one of the only times Ran actually didn’t find your constant babbling annoying, only when it was about how good he was making you feel. How you loved him so much and would do anything for him. Everything else that left your mouth was pointless and he never listened but this…oh he lived for this.

“Ran…” You weren’t sure if your moans were in the pleasure or the pain of your head constantly hitting the car door. It didn’t matter honestly because he wouldn’t care. “P-Please…” You pleaded breathlessly unsure if you’d be able to continue holding it. Ran peeked his eyes open to glance down at you before closing them once more as his fingers dug into the skin of your belly.

His purple strands of hair dangling in his face unkempt and unruly drove you crazy “If you don’t cum with me, you’re not at all.” Ran mumbled taking his hand away from you briefly to slick his hair back. You nodded rapidly waiting for the feeling of him cumming so you could. His slender cock twitched inside of you warning his release but before it came, he pulled out and came all on your bare stomach. A few of the white ropes landed on the tight dress that had been pushed up to your chest making you grumble about how dirty it looked now.

Your wide watery eyes gazed into his as tears spilled onto the apples of your cheeks and he breathed heavily. Ran sat back on the seats still facing you before his expression changed from out of breath to mischievous. 

His fingers went and grabbed at your hair before he pulled you forward to now sit on your hands and knees with your face even closer to his. Ran’s lips met you and you gladly allowed him access to your mouth immediately falling to his mercy as you always did but before the kiss could get even more heated, he pulled away. He barely gave you any time to allow questions to escape those swollen lips of yours before he shoved your head down, his cock immediately hitting the back of your throat.

“Uhn!” You choked while looking at him with teary eyes with your nose buried in his happy trail “What are you waiting for, slut?” The Bonten executive questioned and you didn’t respond and only began to take him further down your throat. Hollowing out your cheeks and sucking on his cock while your tears marked their place on his pelvis bone.

Ran leaned back with a groan “Fuck, princess.” Oh how you loved it when he called you that, it was a sign that he at least cared to give you a pet name that was not degrading you. Ran grinned at the feeling of his firearm under his fingertips, he quickly grabbed it from behind him and pointed at your head. You hadn’t even realized it until you felt the surprisingly warm metal against your sweaty forehead and your eyes grew large at the sight.

The gun was loaded and the safety was not on. He could shoot you in the head right here and it had you shaking but you kept taking him to not anger him “Oh relax, my finger ain’t even on the trigger.” Ran said with a malicious grin enjoying how it made you tremble “But it will be if you don’t hurry up and make me cum.” He said shrugging his shoulders carelessly. Of course, he wasn’t going to but Ran took pride in his ability to manipulate people so you believed him.

Eye contact was held as you tried even harder to get him to his release with your precious eyes begging him to spare your life. You suckled at his tip as you jerked him off with your other hand with hot streams of tears messing up your expensive makeup and Ran only moaned at the feeling soon not caring about the gun in his hand but you still did.

Despite your fear, you felt your core growing hot at the action. If it were any other person pointing that gun at your head after knowing your mistake during a drug deal, you would’ve pissed your pants knowing your life was going to end but it was Ran. Ran wouldn’t do that…even if he did, you wouldn’t mind as much as if it wasn’t him. If you were going to die, you wanted it to either be at the hands of the man you loved or with him even if he didn’t love you back.

You loved Ran so much and whatever he wanted, you’d go along with because, at the end of the day, you were just Ran’s chess piece that he could move how he pleased and use however he wanted. 

Without a warning, Ran’s cock sprayed another round of white all over you and your hand making you even more of a mess than before. The gun dropped from his hand and onto the floor of the car as he smiled at you with large breaths coming from his mouth but not a single word, not an apology, not a joke. Nothing. He was just thinking.

Despite all of your mistakes and faults, maybe there was reason to still keep you around. Your pussy was fucking amazing and you could do amazing things with your mouth plus you were at his beckoning for everything. Perhaps he’d share you with Sanzu and Rindou…maybe even Koko but would you want to? Wait, who is he kidding? You’d do it if he told you to just like anything else.

You moved closer to him with your lips puckered out in a small pout “Can I have a kiss?” Your words were low and needy as your [e/c] eyes gazed up at him through your wet eyelashes. Ran smiled and grabbed your face “When you go get me my fucking money.” He replied in the same tone you had before letting go of your face and looking away. And it was no surprise when you began to put your clothes back on to do what he told you.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

No because why is he so fine. Like actually what the hell.

I would do literally anything for him.

—✯ TRY IT, BITE IT, LICK IT, SPIT IT

cw. 18+ mdni. all chars 20+, pro-player!rin, afab!reader, oral (f!receiving), praise, petnames, established relationship, inspired by that one leaked panel of rin because what the hell

When ITOSHI RIN wins a game, your face is always the first one he wants to see.

Oftentimes, he'll search for you in the crowd with your embarrassingly noisy neon poster boards cheering him on. Other times, you'll already be waiting for him at the gates with your arms opened wide for him to run into.

For the last four weeks, though, he’s had to suffer the agony of your absence.

Rin called you incessantly while in France, reminding you of how many days separated him from being in your arms. "Wait for me. I'll be home soon," he said. "And be good," he'd add on, almost cheekily.

His promises were always sincere and lethally calculated. He wanted you to need him so badly that you'd fall apart on his tongue in minutes. Then he'd do it again, and again, and again, until he was satisfied.

When he finally came home, you barely had time to breathe before his lips were crashing into yours. You wanted to ask him if his flight was alright, if he had dinner yet, but then he licked himself into your mouth and the entire thought vanished.

And now you're being devoured by a monster.

Rin's been between your legs for so long that you're dizzy, head airy and light as he fucks into you with his tongue.

"Stay still," he warns sharply, words muffled as he stuffs his face closer into your sopping cunt. His warning is followed with his hands circling around your thighs, palms flat against the skin and leaving seas of heat along it.

You whine pathetically when he presses your hips down into the mattress, forcing you to be still for him.

"Can't—" you choke, spine curling from the bed so far that your head tilts backward. "Slow down, Rin!"

"Slow down?" He murmurs roughly. Rin furrows his brows, like he genuinely can't comprehend your request. "Actin' like it's your first time," he mocks, finishing his sentence by wrapping his lips around your clit.

You squeal, hand shooting down to shove his head back. He almost laughs when your weak attempt only pushes the bangs out of his eyes, giving him an even better view of you.

Rin pulls back enough to click his tongue, amused by your squirming but equally frustrated at your protests. He draws away from you. You feel cold as he does, the space he occupied suddenly devoid of his warmth.

"M'sorry princess," he coos, trying to coax you into relaxing. Peppering light kisses up your thigh until he gets to the spot resting on his shoulder, Rin can feel every shiver as you recover. "Too rough?"

You take a moment to catch your breath, waves of overstimulation crashing in your stomach. Finally, your gaze slowly drifts down to him, roaming over his face.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight.

Sweat gleams across his forehead, stray strands of hair stuck to the skin as he also finds his breath. The entire bottom half of his face is so wet. You did that. You did.

"Hmm?" Rin hums, trying to get an answer. He looks so fucking cocky. So hungry. His tongue runs across his lips as if he can't stand not tasting you for even a second longer.

You shake your head, fingers still in his hair tugging lightly until he groans. "I can take it," you sniffle, guiding him back down closer to your heat.

"I know, baby. You're so good."

Rin dives back in as if he's starving for you, lathering your cunt in rough, long licks until you're shuddering. His hands travel down to the base of your thighs once again, pulling your body closer so that he can finish his meal.

You cry out softly, aching hole desperately trying to squeeze his tongue. He was the one who was so good to you. You dare to gaze at him again, just to admire his beautiful face.

Your breath hitches.

Rin has that same look on his face as he does on a football field—like a winner chasing a goal he knows he'll always get.

using toji's cum to condition my hair

[9:28pm]

"you're pretty." you rest your cheek on your hand, looking at katsuki with a sated smile gracing your lips. his ruby eyes snapped from his notes to your half lidded ones.

"shut up." he pauses and looks back down at his notes. "dumbass."

"you're very very very pretty 'suki." you ignore him, and continue to compliment him, warmth blooming in your chest as you notice the faint blush of pink on the tips of his ears. "so so pretty i just want to kiss you everywhere."

"yeah?" he raises an eyebrow at you and flashes a toothy grin, leaning closer over the desk where he sat across from you. "why don't you come over here then?"

thanks for reading ! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

"It's All Your Fault, Isn't It?"

Yan! SatoSugu x Reader Sum: You've had the chances, why didn't you take them. In the end you'll always just lose the purest of love. Last part of: Can my friend join?, This is Love, Right? ** Can be read as standalone fics** TW: Yandere Behaviors (Obsession, Manipulation, etc), Death of Child Character, Blood, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Depression, Dubcon, Lactation, Pregnancy themes, SatoSugu, Angst No Comfort. MDNI WC: 7.7k

A/n: I got supperrr stuck in the loop of editing, so I am just gonna post it, I feel like rereading it after the tenth time. I almost just pressed delete lol. :) enjoy!

It’s all your fault, isn’t it?

You did this to yourself. You should have walked away when the chance was there, when the door was still open, even just a crack. You should have screamed, fought, run—anything to reclaim a sliver of your freedom.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Was it the security? The comfort of knowing you’d never struggle to pay bills or scramble to find work? Was it the way Satoru promised, over and over, that you’d never go unloved, never feel the ache of loneliness again?

Or was it something darker? Something you couldn’t quite admit to yourself?

You told yourself it was love. You told yourself you were lucky. How many women could say they had someone who’d give them the world? Someone who, with a flick of his wrist, could bend the rules of life itself to ensure you had everything you could ever need?

So, you stayed.

Even before Suguru became part of the equation, you stayed. You even stayed when Satoru would come home in the dead of night, his footsteps a faint echo through the silent halls before his hands found you. You’d stir from your sleep as he pulled your panties down with barely a word, his breath hot against your neck.

There was no tenderness in those moments, no love—just need. A raw, consuming need he claimed you had to fulfill. And you let him, didn’t you? You let him push inside you with barely any preparation, your body yielding to him because he knew it so well.

Satoru knew the places that made you crumble, the spots where your body quivered, the way your breath hitched when his fingers grazed just right. He knew you better than you knew yourself, didn’t he? His movements were deliberate, practiced, the wet noises filling the room a cruel testament to how thoroughly he’d mastered you.

You’d given him permission. He reminded you of that often, didn’t he? That you’d said yes. That he worked so hard, carried so much, and that this was his right. That he had needs only you could meet.

And you understood. You always understood.

After all, he was the strongest, wasn’t he?

So, you let him use you.

Like a doll.

You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his loud groans of release cutting through the stillness. A pathetic little whimper followed, muffled by the darkness, as he spilled himself inside you. And then, as if the act meant nothing, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, murmured something soft and indistinct, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

You stayed there, silent and unmoving, the lingering heat of his body beside you doing nothing to warm the cold ache between your thighs.

That’s when the thought would creep in. A sick, unwelcome whisper:

You didn’t even climax.

You hated yourself for thinking it. For letting it matter.

But still, you stayed.

Was it fear that held you there? Or was it hope—a desperate, foolish hope that one-day things would change? That one day, every day would feel like those rare, sweet moments when he pressed teasing kisses against your lips before dragging you out to get sweets. That he’d touch you with love, with the tenderness he so effortlessly showed to others—when he wasn’t breaking them apart piece by piece with that same teasing grin.

And now, looking back, you can’t decide what’s worse: that you didn’t leave when you had the chance…

Or that part of you still doesn’t want to.

You stayed, even when the small arguments started. The little spats about wanting him to open up more, to share pieces of his life with you, the pieces he always kept hidden. Perhaps it was selfish—maybe even naïve—but you wanted to know why he loved you.

Really, truly loved you.

But you never asked.

You saved that question, tucking it away deep into your heart, right alongside the cracks that had already started forming. You told yourself it wasn’t the right time. That maybe he wasn’t ready. That you shouldn’t push. Instead, you focused on the good times, clinging to them like lifelines.

Because they were good, weren’t they?

What other guy would give you the world like Satoru did? What other guy would bring you flowers every week—a different color each time, sometimes traditional, sometimes exotic, but always beautiful? What other guy would shower you with affection so openly, so shamelessly, pressing kisses to your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded?

Satoru had told you he loved you. And maybe he did—in a way that wasn’t entirely built on desire, the need to keep you within his grasp, or the insatiable craving to hold you close for the rest of your days.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

That’s why you stayed.

Even when Suguru came into the picture—when those dark, calculating eyes lingered on you just a moment too long when his quiet, honeyed words wove themselves into your life like threads binding you to a tapestry you couldn’t escape—you stayed.

You had the choice, didn’t you? You could have said no. You could have walked away.

But you didn’t.

You stayed, and now there was no one else to blame.

So, truly, it is all your fault.

However, your heart’s at fault too, isn’t it? For leaning into Suguru's touches, craving his warmth, even when you knew deep down that he was a cruel and awful man. A man who veiled his darkness in sweetness, wrapping it in gentle words and tender caresses that made you doubt your own truths. He was a master of contradiction—soft hands and sharp edges, honeyed lies hiding an iron grip.

You could have left.

You could have said no to the whole relationship, shut the door before it ever opened.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You told yourself that maybe this was the best you could hope for, the best kind of love someone like you deserved. Because it was love, wasn’t it? They loved you. Even if it was conditional. Even if you had to give and give, piece after piece of yourself, just to receive a sliver in return.

Love comes in many forms, after all. And this was love.

Or so you continued to convince yourself.

This is what you deserve. That you should have listened to your gut, back when every touch felt too heavy, too lingering, too much. Back when their words seemed to wrap around you like chains instead of promises. You should have left before the walls around you closed in. Before you realized that leaving wasn’t just difficult—it was dangerous.

You had your chances, didn’t you? If only you’d taken them.

You knew Satoru would tear the world apart to find you if you ran. He’d find you, no matter where you went, no matter how far. But… would he really?

If you’d left early enough, maybe it wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe it would have been nothing more than a bad breakup, a lesson in heartbreak you’d recover from in time. Maybe, if you’d left after Suguru’s return, Satoru would have leaned on him instead of spiraling further into obsession.

But you didn’t leave.

You stayed.

Such a stupid, stupid girl.

And yet…

It was never just about them, was it?

Because you craved love too, just as much as they did. You wanted it desperately—so much that you ignored the warnings in your heart, the creeping dread in your chest. You wanted to be loved, to feel wanted, to belong to someone in a way that was absolute, undeniable, and unshakable.

And that’s exactly what they gave you.

But love like that—it came with a cost.

And you paid for it in silence, in submission, in the pieces of yourself you’d never get back.

So now, here you are, locked away in the beautiful Gojo estate. A place so grand it should feel like a palace, yet it suffocates you like a gilded cage. Every corner gleams with wealth and power, every surface reflects the life you’re supposed to be grateful for.

The maids don’t meet your eyes.

To them, you aren’t Satoru’s wife. You aren’t a partner. You’re something lesser.

A pet.

Because you aren’t the one ensuring the estate runs smoothly while Satoru is away on his endless missions. That responsibility doesn’t fall to you—it belongs to Suguru, doesn’t it? He’s the one in charge. He holds the reins, commanding the household with a quiet authority that leaves no room for question.

And you?

You remain.

The pet. The wife. The child-bearer.

Barefoot and pregnant, with a swollen belly to show for it, you shuffle through the estate like a ghost. Your body aches, weighed down not just by the child growing inside you, but by the chains of a life you can’t escape.

Suguru sees to it that the estate runs like a well-oiled machine, all while maintaining his title as the second strongest. His responsibilities never seem to tire him, never seem to dull his devotion. If anything, they only make him more overbearing.

He adores pampering you.

He drapes you in the softest blankets, ensuring you’re always warm. He dresses you in the finest clothes, silks and satins that cling to your growing belly, showcasing the proof of your usefulness. He loves the way your independence has been stripped away, loves the way you’ve been forced to rely on him for everything.

When did you become so dependent?

When did you start accepting his affection like a loyal dog, start leaning into the way his rough, calloused hands would trace the curve of your stomach? When did you start craving the way he’d gaze up at you with that lovesick smile, his voice low and honeyed as he murmured sweet words about the future?

“I hope the baby looks like Satoru,” he’d say, his eyes dark and soft as they met yours. Then, after a pause, “I hope it’s a girl.”

The words always made your chest tighten, made your stomach twist.

You know he must miss the twins.

It’s not just the weight of their absence—it’s the way he’s filled that void with this child, this unborn life. You can see it in the way he touches you, the way he watches you. He’s more excited about this pregnancy than you are.

And that’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?

Because to him, this isn’t just a child. It’s a legacy. A purpose.

To you?

It’s another chain.

And yet, you hate how loving he is. How he’s always there to hold your hair back when you’re bent over, heaving in the dead of night. How his large, warm hands find every knot in your aching limbs, massaging away the tension with a tenderness that makes your heartache.

It’s cruel, how gentle he can be. How he disarms you with care just when you think you might muster the strength to fight back.

There’s a constant mantra in your mind, a desperate hope that the baby won’t resemble either of them.

Because the thought of seeing their features reflected back at you stirs a fear too heavy to bear.

The thought of seeing their features reflected in those tiny, innocent eyes is terrifying. It brings the fear that every decision will feel like a mistake, that allowing any of this to happen will become an unbearable regret.

You tell yourself you hope, but it’s hard to ignore the possibility, isn’t it?

What if the child inherits Satoru’s piercing blue eyes—so crystalline they seem otherworldly, glowing even in the faintest light? The same eyes that burn and freeze you all at once, stripping you bare and exposing every secret, every hidden part of you.

Even his grin—boyish, sharp, too wide—lingers in your mind. A grin that could charm and cut in the same breath, leaving you unsure whether to lean closer or step away. What if that grin appeared on a smaller, softer face, just as devastating?

Or worse—what if the baby inherits Suguru’s gaze?

Those dark, soulful eyes that pull you in like the tide, gentle at first glance, inviting even, but hiding endless, churning storms beneath their surface. Eyes that promise escape is not an option. Unlike Satoru’s, Suguru’s smiles are quieter, softer—but no less dangerous. His smiles feel deliberate, like they’re slipping past every defense you didn’t even know you had.

Would the baby inherit Satoru’s arrogance? Suguru’s patience?

Or worse—would the child inherit both of their possessiveness?

The thought makes your skin crawl.

But the fear doesn’t end there.

Because it’s not just about the baby, is it?

It’s about you.

About how they’ve already carved themselves so deeply into your soul that you can’t even imagine a world without them. You hate that truth. Hate the way it festers inside you, a bitter root growing into every part of you.

You hate Satoru’s smirk when he strides into the estate after a mission, brushing off the exhaustion and blood as if it’s nothing. How he towers over you, his white hair catching the light in a way that seems almost ethereal, his fingers tilting your chin up with a mock tenderness that makes your breath catch.

You hate how he always knows exactly what to say to make you crumble, his voice dipping into that teasing lilt that makes your heart flutter in spite of yourself.

And Suguru—oh, you hate how he lingers. How his touch lingers. His hands are always warm, always deliberate, tracing paths across your skin as if he’s claiming you, piece by piece. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a silent reminder that you are his, that you belong to him. His voice, low and soothing, is a cruel contradiction—a balm against your nerves, even when his words are laced with quiet threats you pretend not to hear.

You hate them.

You hate the way they consume you, the way they’ve woven themselves into the fabric of your life so tightly that even your thoughts feel tangled in their presence.

And yet, as you sit in the vast, lonely expanse of the Gojo estate, the weight of your belly grounding you, you know the truth.

You’re not just afraid of the baby looking like them.

You’re afraid of what that child will mean.

Because if they look like Satoru, with his arrogance, his fire, his brilliance, how will you deny the pride swelling in your chest? How will you stop yourself from feeling that flicker of awe, even when you know you shouldn’t?

And if they look like Suguru, with his quiet strength, his steadfast devotion, how will you deny the love? How will you stop yourself from melting beneath those familiar eyes, from imagining them crinkling with joy or softening with affection?

You can’t.

And that's horrifying.

You won’t be able to ignore how Satoru has changed, how he’s become softer, more attentive in ways that make it harder to hold onto your resentment. How he lingers closer to you than he ever did before, as if the mere distance between you might undo something fragile inside him.

How he’s started resting his head in your lap as you sit together in the serene gardens, his white hair catching the sunlight like spun silk, almost ethereal. His long lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks as his half-lidded gaze flickers up to meet yours, brimming with a tenderness you don’t know how to process.

He murmurs lazy words of affection, his voice low and warm, the kind of sweetness that drips like honey and sticks to your skin. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your thighs, soft patterns that feel far too intimate, far too easy.

And you hate how much you crave it.

You hate the way his presence soothes something raw inside you, even when you tell yourself it shouldn’t.

You hate how he’s begun helping you with the small, intimate things you wish you could keep to yourself. Like the unbearable ache in your swollen breasts, the pressure building so much it leaves you trembling, whimpering in pain. How he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even ask.

The way Satoru's lips wrap around you with loud, deliberate suckles, the sound echoing in the quiet as he eases the pressure with almost clinical precision. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t falter. His hands grip your hips to steady you, his thumbs pressing reassuring circles into your skin.

You hate the sound.

You hate the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way it prickles, a constant reminder of just how close he always is—too close.

When he’s finished, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a lingering kiss. His voice low, almost tender, as he murmurs, “I love this version of you.”

The words settle into you like stones. His lips, still soft from the milk, press against yours, and the faint sweetness lingers, almost cloying. Satoru murmurs more words—gentle, saccharine things that would feel kind if not for the way his hands start to roam as they wrap around your waist.

“How nurturing you’ve become,” he whispers, his tone carrying a dangerous sort of reverence.

That’s what he loves. That’s what he says.

And the way he looks at you when he says it—those bright blue eyes glinting with something dark, something that sinks its claws into you—makes your skin crawl. Because you know exactly what he means.

He doesn’t love the nurturing in and of itself. He loves how it ties you to him. How it binds you to this role, this life, this carefully constructed world where you are his and only his.

The version of you he loves is one that has no room for defiance, no space for resistance—only the space to give, to sacrifice, to bend under the weight of his love.

And that’s what makes it so much worse.

Because even as you hate it, even as your stomach churns and your skin prickles, there’s a part of you that leans into his touch. A part of you that longs for the softness, for the fleeting moments when it feels like love instead of control.

And you hate yourself for that, too

Because you know how it goes. You’ve seen it now. Lived it.

How one pregnancy ends and another begins.

The cycle repeated itself after your firstborn, didn’t it? Barely a year after you gave birth, they had you pregnant again. You didn’t even have time to recover, to heal, before they decided it was time for another.

But they love you, don’t they?

Satoru’s affection is impossible to miss—the way he grins at you, almost childlike, as he cups your face with hands that can destroy worlds but hold you as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. How he showers you with gifts, flowers in every shade imaginable, rare treasures that sparkle as brightly as his endless energy.

How many times has he told you, in his low, teasing voice, “You’re my world, you know that? I could do anything, have anything—but none of it would matter without you.”

It sounds like love, doesn’t it?

And Suguru—Suguru loves you too, in his quiet, steady way. You see it in the way he watches you, his dark eyes softening when you enter the room, the weight of his gaze feels suffocating. He’s the one who stays calm when you cry, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

And you believe him, don’t you?

They love you. That’s why they insist on keeping you close. Why Satoru kisses your forehead every morning, why Suguru runs his fingers through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings you’re too exhausted to resist. That’s why they ensure you’re taken care of, why they never let you lift a finger, why they promise they’ll always protect you.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Satoru once said, kissing your swollen belly as he grinned up at you. “Just stay here with us. That’s all we need.”

“It’s not just for us,” Suguru added, his voice softer, more measured. “It’s for you too. We want you to feel safe. Loved.”

And in moments like that, when the weight of their words settles in your chest like a lullaby, you almost believe them.

You tell yourself that no one else would love you this much. No one else would care for you so completely, so unconditionally—because this is love, isn’t it?

The maids barely acknowledged your struggles. Their gazes were cold, dismissive, even as your body ached and your mind screamed for reprieve. They would gently pry your child from your arms with hushed whispers.

“You need more rest,” they’d say, their voices soft but unyielding. “We’ll take care of them. Don’t worry.”

And what could you do? You’d watch helplessly as they carried your baby away, leaving you empty-handed, empty-hearted. As if you were nothing more than a vessel, an incubator meant to bear and birth heirs for the Gojo family.

Your firstborn was a boy.

A son.

An heir.

He looked just like Satoru.

Those piercing blue eyes stared back at you from his tiny, cherubic face, wide and curious, already holding a glint of brilliance and confidence you couldn’t deny. His hair was the same stark white, impossibly soft beneath your trembling fingers as you brushed it back, memorizing every perfect strand. Even the little smirk he gave in his sleep mirrored Satoru’s—a playful, almost mocking curl at the corners of his mouth that made your heart ache with emotions you couldn’t unravel.

You loved him.

You hated that you loved him.

And when Suguru would cradle him in his arms, his dark eyes soft and filled with a devotion that seemed to crack the carefully constructed walls around your heart, you couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in your chest. He’d whisper promises to the child—vows of protection and guidance.

When Satoru would swoop in, effortlessly spinning the boy around with an energy that filled the room with light, the sound of your son’s uncontrollable laughter echoing like music, that warmth would return. It would swell in your chest, suffocating and undeniable, a cruel reminder of the chains you wore willingly and unwillingly all at once.

This is what they wanted, wasn’t it?

This is what they’d planned all along.

And now, with another child growing inside you, you realize something that terrifies you more than anything else.

You’re not sure if you stayed because you had no choice.

Or because you wanted to.

Again, it’s all your fault.

For trying to run, again.

For thinking, just for a moment, that you could escape them.

You were far too pregnant. Belly too far swollen, body heavy and slow, every step a reminder of how deeply tethered you were to this vast estate. But the thought wouldn’t leave your mind. The desperate hope of freedom burned too brightly, too wildly, even as your body betrayed you.

Even as you were dragged back to that sickening place, back to the people that you convinced yourself—desperately, foolishly—that this was love.

You’d screamed at Suguru, the words spilling out like a torrent you couldn’t stop. You told him the child was yours too, that you had the right to hold them, to sleep in the same room, to be more than a vessel. Your voice cracked, raw with frustration and desperation, as you hurled your defiance at him.

You remember the way his gaze darkened.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. That wasn’t Suguru’s way.

Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow, calculated, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. He tilted his head, his expression calm, disarming, the warmth in his dark eyes a stark contrast to the undercurrent of control they held.

“You’re upset,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking your face. “And that’s okay. You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?”

The quiet warmth in Suguru's voice made it hard to breathe, made the frustration clawing at your throat turn to something else—something like shame.

“You need to calm down,” he continued, a warm calloused hand slipping down to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt us.”

His words lingered, heavy with meaning, as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “But I love you. We love you. Everything we do—everything I do—is for you.”

You wanted to push him away, to scream that it wasn’t love, that this wasn’t love. But as his arms wrapped around you, strong and unyielding, pulling you into his embrace as though Suguru could shield you from the very world they had trapped you in.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, soft lips brushing your temple. “Don’t you see that? You don’t need to run. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

A voice that was so tender, so achingly sincere, that it almost broke you. Suguru's words were enough to extinguish the fire of defiance burning in your chest, to leave you standing there, trembling and helpless in his arms.

The maids saw it, didn’t they? They whispered about you, their quiet voices slipping through the halls like ghosts. They called you ungrateful. Sick. They said you didn’t understand how fortunate you were.

“You should be enjoying this,” they murmured, their words laced with thinly veiled judgment. “No responsibilities, no struggles. A carefree life. Everything is taken care of for you. What more could you want?”

What more could you want?

No choices.

That’s what they meant, wasn’t it? No choices. No freedom. No you.

Was something wrong with you? Maybe.

Maybe there was something wrong with wanting more. For wanting to feel like a person again, instead of a vessel, a doll, a beautifully dressed incubator meant to carry their legacy.

It really is all your fault, isn’t it?

Because when labor came, it dragged you into hell.

Thirty-three grueling hours. Each contraction ripped through your body like a punishment, an unrelenting reminder of every fleeting thought of rebellion, of every moment you dared to imagine a life beyond them.

The emergency c-section was chaos—a flurry of hands, sterile lights, and voices rising above the incessant ringing in your ears. You were losing too much blood. Fever scorched your skin, your body trembling as the edges of the world blurred, your thoughts slipping between consciousness and darkness.

You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. You weren’t even sure whose tears streaked your skin as they fell—were they yours? Satoru’s? Suguru’s?

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what happened after that.

All you remember are the words.

Suguru’s voice, low and steady, cutting through the haze. He leaned close, his hand resting on your clammy cheek with an almost painful tenderness. His dark eyes bore into yours, soft yet heavy with something that made your stomach twist.

“You shouldn’t have run,” he whispered. His tone was calm, soothing even, but the edge beneath it was sharp enough to draw blood. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself. You should’ve listened.”

And for a long time, you didn’t have the strength to argue.

The days that followed blurred together. Feeling like a ghost in your body, too weak to move, too tired to speak. Satoru and Suguru hovered, their gazes flickering between concern and something you couldn't quite place. The maids continued to whisper on with their rumors, their eyes darting to you with pity or disdain, as though you’d done this to yourself.

In their eyes, you were lucky.

Lucky to have survived. Lucky to have them.

And lucky, in their eyes, to not have another pregnancy until your first two boys turned five.

Five years of peace. Or something that resembled it.

Five years of watching your sons grow, of hearing their first words, of feeling their small, warm arms wrap around you as they giggled into into your neck. Five years where it was almost believable that this was normal, where you could almost convince yourself this was love.

Because it did feel like love, didn’t it?

Until the day you overheard Suguru speaking to them.

His voice was hushed, but not hushed enough.

“Mommy is sick,” he said, tone calm and soothing like he was explaining a simple fact of life. “Sometimes she says things she doesn’t mean. Sometimes she gets confused. But that’s okay. We love her, don’t we?”

A pang sent through your chest, breath catching as you froze in the hallway. Those cruel words lies carved like knives, each one slicing deeper than the last.

He was planting seeds, wasn’t he?

Teaching them to see you the way he wanted them to see you. Fragile. Dependent. Broken.

However with fists clenched, nails pressing into palms with a sting sharp enough to ground the swirling emotions within. The urge to scream hovered at the edge, to cry and storm into the room, demanding explanations with the desperation of a cornered animal. Words burned on the tip of the tongue—protests that it wasn’t true, that sickness and confusion weren’t the chains binding this existence.

But what would they believe?

Suguru’s steady, patient voice, rich and even, always laced with quiet authority? The father whose dark eyes always seemed to understand everything, who carried himself with calm, unshakable control, even when his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes?

Or you?

The mother who had tried to run, who had collapsed and bled and screamed, who had been scolded for her defiance. The one they saw as weak, frail, and ungrateful.

You wanted to run again. The thought burned in the back of your mind, relentless and wild.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Because, in the end, what choice did you really have?

But by the time your third child—a sweet boy who looked like a perfect blend of you and Suguru—turned three, the illusion of peace began to crack.

Suguru was already leaning close, his voice soft and coaxing as he murmured into your ear, “I think it’s time we try for a girl.”

Satoru, of course, was on board almost immediately.

After all, your third child was different. A nonsorcerer, just like you, showing none of the abilities your first two boys possessed. Those two had cried in the dead of night, their small voices trembling with fear as they described the horrors only they could see—things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But that wasn’t why your husbands looked at Kiyoshi with quiet disapproval.

It wasn’t his lack of cursed energy that made them see him as an anomaly.

It was his heart.

From the moment Kiyoshi was placed in your arms, red-faced and wailing, he clung to you with a desperation that never faded. He didn’t want the maids to hold him, didn’t toddle after Suguru’s composed steps or reached for Satoru’s strong arms. He wanted you. Always you.

He was a mama’s boy through and through, and that was love.

A love so pure it felt like a lifeline in the suffocating world you’d been forced into.

While you loved your first two boys deeply—how could you not?—there was always a distance there, a reflection of the walls your husbands had built around you. The first two cuddled into your lap, their small hands clutching yours as they whispered things that broke you.

“Mommy, we want you to get better.” “We don’t like it when you yell at Daddy to let you leave.”

They were too young to understand, too innocent to see the chains tightening around you.

But Kiyoshi understood, in his own way. Even as a toddler, he refused to leave your side, refused to let the maids or his fathers pull him from your arms. He was always on your hip, his little hand clutching your clothes, his head resting against your chest.

“Kiyoshi,” Satoru had said once, his tone laced with false amusement, “means ‘pure sadness.’ Don’t you think that’s fitting?”

He smiled as if it were a joke, but you could hear the bitterness beneath it.

And maybe it was fitting.

Because Kiyoshi only stopped wailing when he was in your arms, as if he already knew the world outside of you was too cruel, too cold.

By the time he turned three, Kiyoshi would toddle after you in the gardens, small, sturdy legs working hard to keep up. His face—a blend of Suguru’s gentleness and your warmth—would brighten with the purest smile. When his eyes crinkled at the corners, just like yours, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell.

“Look, Mommy!” he’d say, holding up a flower he’d plucked from the garden, his tiny fingers dirt-stained and clumsy. “For you!”

You’d crouch down, brushing his dark hair back as you took the flower, your voice soft and tender in a way you hadn’t heard in years.

“Thank you, my sweet boy.”

And for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Like you could breathe again.

But you knew better.

As the sound of approaching footsteps always shattered moments like these. Heavy and far too familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Suguru.

His softspoken voice broke the fragile silence, calm and even, as always. “Kiyoshi,” he said, warm and affectionate, though laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’ve been keeping your mother all to yourself again, haven’t you?”

Kiyoshi stiffened at your side, the little hand tightening its grip on your kimono as he glanced nervously toward Suguru.

Suguru stepped closer and crouched down to Kiyoshi’s level, dark eyes softening as they met his son’s. “Come here, son,” he murmured, holding out a hand. His tone was gentle, coaxing, but there was an unspoken expectation beneath it. “Let Daddy hold you for a little while. I’ve missed you.”

But Kiyoshi didn’t move. His small fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your kimono, his face pressing into your side as though trying to make himself small, invisible.

Suguru’s gaze flicked to you, lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So shy,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of amused affection. “But you don’t have to be, Kiyoshi. Daddy just wants to hold you. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart clench, torn between the instinct to shield him and the weight of Suguru’s presence. The tenderness in his tone, in the way his hand remained outstretched, made it all the harder to breathe.

“Kiyoshi,” Suguru said again, his voice dipping into a firmer edge, calm but unyielding. “Come.”

Reluctantly, your little boy let go of you, his steps slow and hesitant as he moved toward his father. Suguru’s smile widened, soft and reassuring, as he scooped Kiyoshi up effortlessly, cradling him with a gentleness that felt too deliberate, too controlled.

“There’s my good boy,” he murmured, brushing Kiyoshi’s hair back with careful fingers. His touch lingered, as though committing the texture to memory. “You love your mommy very much, don’t you?”

Kiyoshi nodded silently, his small face burying itself in Suguru’s shoulder.

Suguru’s gaze lifted to meet yours, a gentle smile, his tone almost playful. “You’ve spoiled him,” he said, a note of amusement threading through his words. “He’s too attached.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but the words caught in your throat.

What could you say?

That you were the only warmth in a world that terrified him? That his attachment wasn’t a flaw, but a desperate grasp at something safe?

Satoru appeared not long after, his presence impossible to ignore as he strolled into the garden, hands in his pockets and a grin that seemed too bright for the moment. His eyes, however, betrayed something softer—something that lingered only when they landed on you.

“Kiyoshi giving you trouble again?” Satoru's voice came out light, tinged with curiosity.

“No trouble,” Suguru replied smoothly, a hand still resting on Kiyoshi’s small back. “Just a little too fond of his mother.”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as he moved closer. His cerulean gaze flicked briefly to Kiyoshi before returning to you, that playful grin softening as he moved to brush a kiss against your temple. “Well, can you blame him?” he murmured, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re hard not to love.”

The warmth of his affection made your heart twist, and your stomach flutter. For a moment, it was easy to forget the way his words often carried double meanings, easy to believe he was simply being sweet.

He straightened, turning his attention back to Suguru with a teasing smile. “But we’ll fix that soon enough, won’t we?”

They didn’t mean to hurt him, you told yourself. They wouldn’t.

But you knew better.

Because Kiyoshi was different. He didn’t fit into their world the way your first two boys did. And in their eyes, difference was something to be controlled.

For now, they let him cling to you. They let him toddle after you in the garden, offering flowers and dirt-streaked smiles that made your heart ache with both love and dread. For now, they allowed him to stay close, to hold onto the warmth you gave him, to believe he was safe in your arms.

But you knew it was only a matter of time.

Because your sons didn’t belong to you. Not really. They never had.

And no matter how much you wanted to shield Kiyoshi, no matter how fiercely you loved him, you knew one simple, devastating truth:

They’d let you have this for now.

But they would take him, too.

Because, after all, it’s all your fault.

For fleeing in the middle of the night.

The day was supposed to be perfect—a rare moment where Satoru and Suguru had taken the older two boys to the school, their voices filled with excitement as they promised to teach them more about the world they were destined to inherit. Your sweet boys kissed you goodbye with a tenderness that felt almost cruel, leaving you behind with Kiyoshi in the quiet, sprawling estate.

You had been on your best behavior. Smiling more, laughing when Satoru teased you, letting Suguru hold you a little longer than usual. You’d made them believe you were finally settling, finally accepting your role in their carefully constructed world.

And it worked.

So when the sun set and the house fell silent, you made your move.

You bundled Kiyoshi up in the softest blanket you could find, the small body warm and sleepy against your chest. He stirred only slightly as you slipped out of the estate, his tiny hands clutching onto your clothes.

He didn’t cry.

He didn’t make a sound.

It was as if he understood. As if even at three years old, he knew that silence was the only thing keeping you safe.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his soft breaths warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes.

The highway stretched out before you, an endless black ribbon under the faint glow of the moon. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, a beacon of hope, a promise of sanctuary.

You walked for miles, the cold night air biting at your skin, legs aching with every step. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not with the faint echoes of paranoia whispering at the back of your mind.

Were they already looking for you? Did Satoru sense you slipping away even from miles away? Did Suguru wake in the middle of the night with the suffocating weight of intuition, already calling for their forces to track you down?

You didn’t know.

And you didn’t care.

The city limits were closer now, the glow of neon lights growing brighter, sharper. The faint hum of life and sound buzzed in the distance.

Kiyoshi stirred in your arms, his little head lifting just enough to peek out at the world around him. His dark eyes, so much like Suguru’s but filled with an innocence his father could no longer claim, glanced up at you with quiet curiosity.

“Mommy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the wind.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your tears wetting his soft hair. “We’re almost there, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice trembling under the weight of hope and fear. “Just a little farther.”

Sanctuary was so close you could taste it.

But it’s all your fault, isn’t it?

Born a nonsorcerer.

Blind to the horrors that lurk unseen. Powerless to fight them off. Too weak to keep that sweet little boy safe.

You always imagined curses as massive, grotesque creatures—monsters so obvious that the very air would change in their presence. That the world would stop, that everything would smell of death and decay as they loomed closer.

But when a curse appears, nothing changes.

There’s no warning. No shift in the wind.

The only thing you feel is the sudden weight of your child going limp in your arms.

And then the blood.

And then the blood.

It coats the ground—dark and endless, pooling around your knees and seeping into the cracks of the earth. Sticky and warm, it clings to trembling hands, staining your kimono, your skin, your very soul.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Your little boy—your Kiyoshi—lies limp in your arms, his small body growing colder with every agonizing second. Tiny fingers, once so eager to cling to you, now dangle lifelessly. His dark lashes rest softly against pale cheeks, unmoving.

He looks like he’s sleeping.

You tell yourself that, over and over, as if saying it enough times will somehow make it true. Shaking hands brush back his dark hair, trembling as you whisper his name. Softly at first, then louder, your voice splintering with every syllable.

“Kiyoshi… wake up, baby. Please.”

But nothing changes.

The world around you feels wrong—too quiet, too still. The city lights in the distance mock you, their glow a cruel reminder of the sanctuary you’d been so close to reaching. You’d promised him, hadn’t you? Promised that everything would be okay. That you’d make it there. That you’d keep him safe.

You lied.

“Kiyoshi,” you choke out again, pressing a desperate kiss to his cooling forehead. Hot tears streak down your face, wetting his soft hair as you clutch him tighter, as though you could anchor him to you—keep him here, with you.

A wail tears through the night, raw and broken, shattering the oppressive silence. The sound is unrecognizable, guttural and full of despair. It takes a moment before you realize it’s coming from you.

The blood stains everything—your hands, your clothes, the ground—but it’s the loss of his warmth that destroys you.

How did this happen?

Your mind races, replaying the moments in broken fragments. You’d been walking, your legs aching, his small body cradled against your chest. He’d been so quiet, so trusting, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You were almost there.

Then the air shifted—just slightly—a subtle wrongness you hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

You didn’t see it.

You didn’t even know it was there until his body jerked in your arms, a sharp, unnatural movement that stole his breath—and yours.

And then he went limp.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

You rock him back and forth, tears falling freely, your voice hoarse as you beg him to wake up. Leaning to press your cheek against his, murmuring his name over and over, as if the sound alone could bring him back.

Because you failed him.

Because this is your fault.

Suguru’s arms wrap around you, their weight unbearable. His warmth presses against the chill of the night, suffocating in a way that makes the air harder to pull into your lungs. He cradles you like something precious, something fragile—like he cares, even as his words twist the knife deeper into your chest.

“We’ll take care of this, just like always,” he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. His lips brush against your hair, lingering, and the tenderness in the gesture makes your skin crawl. “You just need to stop fighting us. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Satoru stood frozen, head bowed, white hair catching the faint glow of the city lights. Kiyoshi’s lifeless body was pressed tightly against him, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he held him close. For a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his expression—something raw, something human.

But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

When he finally turned his gaze to you, his blue eyes were as hollow as you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. “Why couldn’t you just stay?”

The question stabbed deeper than you thought possible, the shame and guilt coursing through you like poison.

Why couldn’t you just stay?

The image of Kiyoshi’s bright smile flashed, his tiny hands offering you flowers from the garden, his laugh ringing out like music in the suffocating silence of the estate. He’d been your light, your tether to something good.

And now he was gone.

Because of you.

You sagged further into Suguru’s hold, the fight draining out of you entirely. The tears wouldn’t stop, falling silently now, soaking into the front of Suguru’s shirt as he held you tighter.

“There, there,” he murmured, his hand stroking your hair in slow, deliberate motions. “That’s better. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’ll make it right.”

But there was no right in this.

The car waited nearby, its door open like an unspoken command. Suguru’s grip on you didn’t waver as he began guiding you toward it, his movements gentle but unrelenting. Satoru followed behind, cradling Kiyoshi’s small form like he was made of glass.

Your legs moved on instinct, numb and heavy, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

The city lights grew fainter as the car doors shut behind you, locking you away from the world you’d been so close to reaching.

You told yourself you’d tried. That you’d done everything you could.

But deep down, you knew.

You’d never escape them.

And as Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, as Satoru’s empty gaze lingered on the horizon, you realized something that hollowed you out completely.

It wasn’t just that you had nothing left.

It was that you no longer cared to try.

It really was all your fault.

he won’t get out of my head. he simply won’t.

hurt me on purpose just to take care of me ♡

TWELVE DAYS OF HAITANIMAS!

A collection of drabbles featuring Ran and Rindou Haitani with a fem!sub!reader to be posted daily from Dec. 14th to Dec. 25th.

MINORS, AGELESS, & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

On the first day of Haitanimas, Ran gave to me…

🎁 DAY ONE. BONDAGE

On the second day of Haitanimas, Rindou gave to me…

🎁 DAY TWO. HUMILIATION

On the third day of Haitanimas, Ran gave to me…

🎁 DAY THREE. ROLEPLAY

On the fourth day of Haitanimas, Rindou gave to me…

🎁 DAY FOUR. EXHIBITIONISM

On the fifth day of Haitanimas, Ran gave to me…

🎁 DAY FIVE. BATONPLAY

On the sixth day of Haitanimas, Rindou gave to me…

🎁 DAY SIX. CONSENSUAL NONCONSENT

On the seventh day of Haitanimas, Ran gave to me…

🎁 DAY SEVEN. LACTATION

On the eighth day of Haitanimas, Rindou gave to me…

🎁 DAY EIGHT. FACE FUCKING

On the ninth day of Haitanimas, Ran gave to me…

🎁 DAY NINE. FACE SITTING

On the tenth day of Haitanimas, Rindou gave to me…

🎁 DAY TEN. FISTING

On the eleventh day of Haitanimas, Ran gave to me…

🎁 DAY ELEVEN. OMORASHI

On the twelfth day of Haitanimas, Ran and Rindou gave to me…

🎁 DAY TWELVE. DOUBLE PENETRATION

© 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐏𝐈 - do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms.

HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO MY ABSOLUTELY LOVE OF MY LIFE,MY HUSBAND,MY KING,MY DADDY,MY EVERYTHING!!!👑♊️💜✨️💫🫶🏻🫶🏻😍😍🫦

GEMINI KING OR WHAT??🫦💜💜💜👑♊️