Chapter Text
Being terrorized weekly by Ryuji Goda wasn't exactly in your job description. But, from what you can tell, there's not much to be done about it. The other girls, they comfort you, but it's to your understanding that you have to just put up with someone like him. He throws so much money around, you'd be stupid not to anyways, right? You would have thought all that money, all the bottle of expensive champagne he buys, the other girls would get a little jealous. However, he's so terrifying, they don't mind at all he's taken shine to a newbie hostess like yourself. In fact, until he'd come along, you hadn't had a steady clientele at all.
You'd tried to see the bright side of it all. In fact, you thought you were even getting used to him. Sure, he's big and scary and his voice is rough and strange, and sometimes his accent is hard to understand and you have to ask him to repeat himself, but he's never been particularly awful to you. He's not even bad at conversation either, when he's not choosing to sit quietly and drink that is. He told you once he's just here to unwind with something pretty to look at (that's you). You'd been fine with that. Until he started getting more aggressive. Which you had been warned about from the very beginning, quite frankly. Usually, there's a manager to tell of even the richest of clients, there to make sure they keep wandering hands off the girls. But it really seems like whenever Goda's in your booth (and only your booth), they turn a complete blind eye. Any sort of effort to make a subtle hand signal, a clear of your throat, it all goes to waste. Half the time you can't even signal for a basic need like a towel. In fact, no one in the club even looks his way.
They're terrified of him.
You have a feeling you should be too. Before moving to this city, you'd never heard of him before. You never imagined being out of the loop would pose this much of a danger to you when it came to handling this particular local. Famous isn't a word they use for Ryuji Goda, notorious and infamous work much better. But you really haven't got a clue as to what he's involved in. Sure, you know about the yakuza, random gangbangers that come into clubs and cause a bit of trouble. But you have absolutely zero idea what you're face to face with multiple nights a week. Is he worse than an average yakuza?
Ryuji can tell just by looking into your eyes that you haven't got a fuckin' clue. And he likes that blissful ignorance. Although he can tell you're nervous around him, it's not nearly the same level as the other girls in the club. He rarely keeps people in his life. He's better off alone, he's always figured. He's even made sure not to bring in the usual crowd of Omi Alliance thugs with him, recognizing how nervous they had made you the first time he'd done it. He wants you to himself, anyways. This could be different. Everyone needs a break from a little loneliness, right? And being a dragon is as lonely as it gets.
Sometimes it makes him bitter. So if a bit of company from a pretty chick in a cabaret club eases the pain a little, why not indulge?
“Why don’t ya come a lil’ closer, hm? You afraid?” He asks one night, with a tilt of his head. Dark eyes fix on you. "I won't bite."
With his arms spread wide and comfortably over the top of the couch, his rough hand is able to grab hold of your shoulder. It’s not a suggestion, it’s a command. Do what I say or there will be consequences. Things go smoothly if you bend to his will, like everyone else does. A nervous laugh comes from you, while you desperately try to think of a natural way to shrug it off or escape. Just like always, your mind goes blank. The other week he'd put your hand on his leg with that strange, crooked smirk on his face. The same thing had happened. Just nothing in your mind until he backed off.
Is he actively toying with you or is just this his really scary way of flirting? You don't get him.
Still, you make the wise decision to scoot a few inches closer to him. A huff of air comes from his nose, although he looks anything but amused with your antics at the moment. Feeling the tension thicken, you’re quick to come so close your leg touches his own. Your hands stay nervously folded in your lap in a vain attempt to keep from fidgeting.
The entire time, his huge hand stays enveloping your shoulder.
“Sit 'n my lap.”
It's so sudden you're not sure if you heard him right. Your face heats. “Um-“
He groans, cutting you off. “I don’t wanna hear that. You tryin' t'be difficult, doll?”
“N-No, of course not. I’m sorry, sir.”
His hand drifts down to your waist. When you go to move, he decides it’s too slow and simply yanks you onto his lap himself. One of your arms finds his shoulders, the other hand gripping at his knee momentarily to stabilize yourself. Your face is hot. Are you actually allowed to be doing this? Is it too much? Are you gonna get fired? On the bright side, as usual, no one spares a passing glance. It's a semblance of privacy. Ignoring you, he refocuses on his drink, bringing it to his scarred lips. The ice clinks as his head tilts. His arm traps you closer to him when you lean away. Still, holding the glass, he lets out a sigh and glances at you.
“Y'know, y'could stand t’loosen up a lil’.”
It gets harder to understand him as the night goes on. The drunkness makes his accent even harder to understand.
You realize he’s offering you a drink. You can’t refuse. Your hand leaves his knee to take the glass. Ryuji doesn’t release it. Instead, he tilts it to your own lips. He decides when your done. You cough a little, not expecting that big of a drink. It burns going down, flaming your insides, and doing absolutely nothing to ease the redness in your face. He laughs at your reaction, and the slight grimace on your face, hidden behind an open palm to try and cover the coughing.
Goda sets the glass down in favor of grabbing your face, thick fingers chilled. Your hand drops, jaw clenching at the sudden contact. The aggression you'd been warned about so often by your coworkers... His fingers tighten at your jaw, forcefully turning your head to the side. His eyes scan over your face, an eyebrow slightly raised a slow smirk stretches at the scarred side of his lips. His eyes are dark. So, very dark.
“Dim in here. Never get a good chance t'see ya up n' close. You’re a beaut, ain't’cha?”
Despite his compliment, the look of unease on your face is unmistakeable. The guy has an infamous pin drop temper and is twice your size. Goda Ryuji is a fierce man. Still, your fingers dig into his pant leg a little, betraying you to him as you're unable to break eye contact.
"Ya like it when I compliment ya? When I call ya pretty?" His face comes closer.
"I'm...I'm not opposed?" you finally try.
He laughs again. He finds he enjoys doing this dance with you far too much. You ease a little bit. Maybe you'll be spared that awful temper of his as long as you keep playing nice with him. Unfortunately, while the eyes of the managers and other hostesses may not have been on you two, a few other clients kept glancing Ryuji Goda's way. He flirts with you a little longer, through a few more refills of his glass, until (just like always) he's gone into the night.
You'd breathed a sigh of relief.
Apparently, a few nights later, another client thought he could do the same things Ryuji was getting away with. All the touching and shameless flirting, that is. So instead of getting a rare break from Ryuji for a night, you ended up getting harassed by a different asshole who believed he was untouchable. You had just managed to signal a manager over when the man's hand had been squeezing at your knee, daring to venture further up your leg. Funny how they finally seem to pay attention now.
Unfortunately, tonight is also the night you learn of Ryuji's unpredictability. A giant shape that vaguely resembles him lunges past you, after storming past the bouncers and into the club. You had no idea a guy that big could move so fast. You'd been so caught up trying to get the offending client's hands off you, you'd barely even noticed him storm in. A huge hand grabs the man by the collar of his shirt, yanking him straight across the table, shattering glasses and spilling any filled drinks all over you.
In response, you yelp, jumping shocked to your feet atop the velvet plush seats. There's absolutely zero chance of not making a scene now. You try to get back into the corner, away from the nasty fight that's about to unfold in front of you. To Ryuji's credit (for once), there's virtually no fight indoors. Still, he wouldn't be Ryuji without managing to slip in one mean punch square in the man's face. You don't at all have a good feeling about the way he drags the man, now with a bloody nose from the start of a nasty beating, right out the door. No one dared to stand in his way. How could anyone? He's a blonde hurricane of a man, he's downright unnatural. He'd dwarfed the bouncers, shouldering them aside as he'd gone.
The club fell dead silent, all watching, the other girls with hands of horror at their mouths, the other clients now uneasy. Then, their eyes collectively fall on you, still perched on top of the lounge seats. You want to sink into the floor, disappear, and die right then and there. Instead, shakily, you sit back down at the soaking wet booth, hands tightly clenched in your lap, now reeking of champagne and the last hints of the other man's cologne. Your nails bite into your palms. What now? The seconds start to grind by like minutes, and the minutes like hours.
Ryuji returned in under twenty minutes, if the clock on the wall proved truer than your shaky perception of dragging time. You try not to let your gaze linger on him, standing at the entrance. The wall across the building seems far more interesting now. Averting your sight didn't make you deaf, however. You overheard some of his heated conversation with the head manager, rough voice and heavy accent unmistakeable. He's the only one who talks like that in here. He's got the manager by the collar, fist clenched, almost nose to nose with him, towering over.
"-you go n' give my girl t'some other prick, n' let him get all touchy with her, that's what's gonna happen to him, got me? Do yer fuckin' job or-"
I'll do it for ya.
Even trying to drown him out and not eavesdrop, your mind almost unconsciously finished the sentence. With your head down and the blood pounding in your ears, you don't see him coming. But you feel his hand clamp around your arm, and start a little, before glancing up at him. You give him a sheepish smile, trying to keep yourself from bursting into tears. How bad does it have to be for you to find some glimmer of comfort in him at the moment? You're still covered in drying champagne and just want to go home at this point...
"Sorry 'bout the clothes," Ryuji apologized a bit gruffly.
You glance down, then do a double take. God, did that much splash onto you? It looks like the entire bottle, not just a few glasses. The state of your dress is more embarrassing than you'd first thought. Not that there was anything left to the imagination to begin with when it was dry and proper. Awkwardly, you wrapped your arms around yourself.
He nudges you, making you look up at him again. You genuinely look like you're about to burst into tears.
"Lemme getcha some new ones. C'mon. Get up."
You try to just shake it off, to recompose yourself in front of a client. You're not gonna cry in front of Ryuji Goda, for God's sake. You're an adult, not a child. You're not gonna start crying at work. You wipe at your eyes with your arm, which reeks of champagne. A soft, shaky sigh leaves you.
"I-I'm sorry, sir, I still have the rest of my shift-"
"Yeah n' ya gotta spend it with me anyhow, so why not get outta this dump for the night?"
He's not wrong. Chances are he walked in spontaneously, looking to put in some hours at your booth. He's notorious for getting his sessions extended so many times they don't even ask him anymore. He comes when he wants to and leaves when he wants to. Nobody wants to bother him. His offer sounded appealing-- you're already a little angry the club has done nothing to cover you up or get you out of here. You could leave...but you'd admittedly be at Ryuji's mercy. As if you weren't already constantly at his mercy here to begin with... Even taking into account the bouncers and managers, what difference would it make since they do nothing to help you out?
Still, like it's instinct, you helplessly look around for a manager to step in and tell you otherwise and give you a reason not to leave with Ryuji.
Like hell they will.
Will things go quieter and smoother if you just obey him? Like always? You notice a few nervous glances from the girls working nearby, trying to regain the flow of the conversation they'd previously been engaging a client in. Your jaw clenches, fingers turning into a fist in your lap momentarily. For the sake of the club and the other girls, you'll do it. If he causes another scene, you can't imagine the damage it will do. And what if it comes out of your pay?
"O-Okay." You offer Ryuji another weak smile. "Sounds like fun, thank you." Could you sound any less enthusiastic after everything that had happened tonight? God, it's hard to put back on the act.
Ryuji notices the slip up.
As you stand, he shrugs his coat off, putting it over your shoulders. The dark, furred hem almost drags on the ground, it's so much larger on you. If you weren't in heels, it certainly would have been sweeping up all the dust and dirt on the floor. These shoes aren't at all good for walking or strolling out on the streets of the city, but they make your calves pop and Ryuji would be damned if he didn't notice that. His coat provides you some modesty and would probably stop any stares on the streets. Unfortunately, you're pretty sure being seen with someone like him will get you looks anyways.
You're wrong about that entirely. It's actually worse. No one dares to look at either of you at all.
You notice the blood spatter on the sides of his shirt collar and the cuffs of his sleeves. Implying he'd taken off his jacket and someone had held it for him while he'd beat the everliving God out of that man he'd dragged out of the club. You hadn't noticed the spray when his coat was on. Mildly disturbing but...strangely comforting? You decide not to address the conflict inside you.
Most of your suspicions about him had been confirmed in that instance. Something more than an average yakuza--he had a sort of command over this area the usual scumbags didn't. He carried himself far more differently, as well. You think you should be much more afraid of him now. But...it's been all this time with him at that club and he hadn't been too horrible to you. Why would he start now? After all, he's going out of his way to take you out on a date and all...
You try not to waste more energy thinking about it. Ryuji ended up taking you to a really nice shop you wouldn't have glanced twice at before. Way out of your price range. He got you a new dress-- five of them, in fact. All of them more expensive than the last. It's the type of finery you'd have to save for, even on your better than average salary. All that money Ryuji was spending at the hostess club apparently had just been pocket change to him. He barely blinks at any of the price tags. You insist a few times, walking next to him, trying to catch up to his larger strides, that it really is too much and you couldn't possibly accept any of this.
"Shut yer mouth, woman." He looks down at you, arching a thick blonde brow as he comes to a stop in the middle of the busy walkway. They go around him. "You don't wanna insult me now, turnin' down all my gifts, do ya'? That ain't smart, doll."
Hoping to get him to move along and out of traffic's way, you shake your head quickly, before dropping your gaze to the street. "No. Of course not. I'm sorry."
He takes your chin between a thick forefinger and thumb, lifting and surveying your face carefully, leaned in close and slightly bent over. Then, he gives a soft 'hmph' and releases you, standing back up to his full height again, hands going to his pockets. Fuck was that about?
"Don't go n' think too hard 'bout all this. Now, c'mon. I see ya walkin' funny and I ain't got nothin' to do with it, so it must be the shoes. Yer gettin' new ones."
You open your mouth instinctually to deny him once again, telling him it's too much between all the fine fabrics (and jewelry to match). But he's not wrong. These heels are meant to be changed into in a back room and then sat in all night, not walked in. They're cute but...your feet are really killing you. He'd noticed this quickly? You shut your mouth, like he'd kindly suggested earlier. Ryuji's scarred lips turn up slightly when you don't reject his offer. Good, you catch on quick.
In the shoe store, he simply sat and watched you get properly fitted for a more comfortable pair. He has a way of sitting and spreading out that make him looks like he owns whatever establishment he happens to be in at the moment. It's something you've never seen before. He's...he's really something.
The pair you went with had less heel to them and they were far less narrow. You give a bit of a relieved sigh upon trying them on and being able to stand more comfortably. Ryuji folded his hands beneath his chin, elbows resting upon his knees as he watches you smile up at the salesman and thank him. You catch Ryuji looking at you and the smile falters a little, but you dare not let it slip from your face. Instead, you give him a shy little wave from your spot.
Ryuji's lip quirks up slightly. He has the strangest smile. Like it's more of a snarl, the way his eyes crinkle and brows furrow. Unusual, but not completely ugly. You feel a little strange. Some emotion you don't have a word for yet.
He asked if you were hungry a little after, walking down the street, watching you survey all the lights and sights. Despite having been settled in Sotenbori for a few months now, you've hardly taken the time to go for a stroll or do any sightseeing. You hesitated, coming to a stop. Ryuji cuts in again before you can fabricate some white lie to somehow shorten this date.
"Don't lie. I know you girls in that club like t'look all dainty n' shit but that don't matter to me, you understand?"
You nod, a bit slowly. "I'm a little hungry, yeah," you admit with a shrug. But you realize fast he's going to try and pay for it again--chances were he'd find the fanciest restaurant in town to do it in as well. "But I can make something at home, so please don't worry-"
Ryuji scoffs with a slight roll of his dark eyes. "Ya ain't gettin' back to that club any faster if ya turn me down. C'mon. I know a spot."
Is that what he thought you were trying to do? You can't imagine going back to the club tonight now. Honestly, you just wanted to stop spending so much of his money. It made you feel a little guilty and something tells you Ryuji Goda is not a man to be indebted to.
In lieu of your silence, Ryuji glanced down at you again. You've shrunk a few inches without the other pair of heels and his coat is dangerously close to skimming the street. Quite frankly, he doesn't care about that either. When you feel his eyes on you, you return the glance, height difference made much more apparent to you once you met his eyes. You've been looking back at him more tonight. You look less nervous when you do it, too.
People don't usually regard him without fear in their eyes so...so it's a welcome change.
You give him a nod. It's still halfhearted, but less so than the others before it. Ryuji has a way of being really convincing.
The restaurant he brought you to wasn't overly fancy like you'd predicted, but God the food was good. It's obvious he knows his way around this city. It's as natural to him as the back of his hand. Which still has some blood spatter on it that you try to ignore. His fingertips are a few inches from yours at the table as he focuses on the plate in front of him. You learn fast the guy can fucking eat. It makes you feel a little more comfortable about digging in yourself. His ability is almost impressive, and you figure he needs every bite to maintain that body of his. Without that coat, he doesn't look any less huge. You can't help but notice the muscles shifts under his shirt, it's so tight on him.
Are you...are you checking out Ryuji Goda?
Based on the look on his face when you open your mouth as the waiter brings the check, you know better than to offer to split. You shut it. He nods with that strange half-smirk at you, and looks down at the bill. You're starting to figure him out a little bit. But you still worry on how you're going to pay him back. You already have an idea of what he wants from you--he's a man after all. And all men are pretty much the same. You just take in a breath to calm yourself.
Things had been going so well too...
You decide you'll cross that bridge when you get to it. No use in stressing out about it right now. Maybe you'll work out some kinda deal with him so you're not underneath him in the next hour. It's not that you don't want to or-er... it's just...it's complicated. As nice as he's been tonight, you worry it's for that exact ulterior motive. And...he wouldn't be the man you thought he was after tonight if he pulled a stunt like that. You don't know if you can trust someone who wants to use you in that fashion. And as gruff and rough around the edges as he was, there'd always been a strange sort of classiness to him that differentiated him from all the other piggish men thinking with their dicks first and their brains second. Regardless, you're worried about getting involved with someone as dangerous as him.
Nervously, you toy with the fur lining his jacket.
It's no time at all before you're back on the streets with him, your arm around his. It's gotten more crowded as the night has gone on, leaving you pressed to his side. Eventually, Ryuji seems to tire of people bumping into him. With no warning, he turns into a random alley, dragging you along. You stumble a little, but quickly recover. Still, your heart begins to race. Isolated, dark alleyway with no one else in it. This can't possibly go well. You wonder if your understanding of him wasn't correct after all.
A huff comes from him as he turns to face you.
"Crowd was pissin' me off. Gimme yer address so I can make sure all those clothes I gotcha get sent over to ya."
You gave him a funny look, the most expression he's ever seen on your face outside of those fake smiles. Your eyebrow draws in, nose crinkling. His head cocks to the side a little bit as he takes another step towards you.
"What?" he asks, voice becoming lower and gruffer. "Ya scared of me or somethin'? Think I'm gonna start showin' up at yer door?"
He looms over you, the most menacing he's looked all night. Ryuji glowers down at you as your back presses to the alley wall. Passerby pay no heed. It's better that way. Any interruption would just cause a massive scene. You're sure you can deal with him on your own. Your eyes meet with his. And suddenly, you can't help but laugh. Maybe it's the combination of nerves and the absurdity of this all, of being taken out by the scariest man you'd ever met in your entire life, practically against your will, and still managing to have a good time? If Stockholm hadn't already been a named syndrome, you're sure now it was your surname instead that would have been used.
Ryuji's brows furrow a little. But a small, uneven smirk shows up on his face and the shadow leaves. Now that's a real laugh. Nothin' like those shy, little huffs of air or nervous giggles. No hand in front of your mouth to feign some sort of politeness either. Just a good, loud, open-mouthed beautiful laugh.
You sigh, catching your breath once your fit is over. "Fuck, at this point, why don't you just walk me home too?" You ask, raising the back of your hand to wipe an almost tearful eye. Ryuji sees how your shoulders relax, and how that smile on your face develops. None of that club manufactured bullshit. If he'd known it only took one date to shake the hostess outta you, he would have dragged you out way sooner.
It may have just been hysterics, but he'll be damned if that wasn't your real laugh and smile. He swears it is.
Ryuji does just as you've suggested. The dragon walks you home. It's a pleasant walk, alight with the neon flashing signs and billboards surrounding the town. Upon arriving at your door, you expect him to force his way in and try to take this up a few notches with how well the night had gone for him. To your surprise, Ryuji doesn't. He simply stands there, hands in his pocket, looking down at you.
"Hey," you suddenly say, getting his attention right before he silently turns away. "Ummm...your jacket." Quickly, you slide it off, then lifting it to him so he can take it. Ryuji throws it over his broad shoulder, eyes still trained on you.
"And...thank you," you continue. That stupid ass smile won't leave your face no matter how hard you try. "See you when I see you? I guess?"
You seem to lean up onto your toes for a moment, up towards his face. Then, you hesitate, and that smile fades. Your eyes, once glancing at his cheeks, maybe his lips just momentarily, leave and settle back down at your feet as you clear your throat awkwardly and fall back to your heels. It just looked like a nervous sway. Ryuji knows better. A bit of exasperation fills him.
Still, he doesn't push. Ryuji just gives you another one of his own crooked smiles. From his smile alone, you know he knows what you almost did. And then, he's gone into the night, likely to take care of some of his own business. You breathe out a sigh you didn't know you were holding. It's not...entirely one of relief. Maybe one of regret. You're confusing yourself...Still, you shut the door. It's honestly too late for this level of inner turmoil.
You regard it all furthermore as you ready yourself to crash into bed. Other than an arm over your shoulder or around your waist now and then as you'd roamed the streets through the night with him, Ryuji wasn't nearly as...well monstrous as he was in the cabaret club. It's strange...you'd even felt comfortable enough to have your arms around his at one point, something you'd never dreamed of doing. This all feels like a dream, as a matter of fact.
You check to make sure you remembered to lock the door with another soft huff. For a moment, you stare blankly at that door.
You don't think you'll ever figure Ryuji out.
Either way, the next day, you find all of his gifts to you at your doorstep. When you go back to work that night, wearing one of the dresses he so generously bought you, your coworkers pull you aside in the back room. You touch up your makeup in your compact mirror, half listening at first to everything they were telling you about Ryuji Goda. You start to properly listen when they get more into the gritty details. When they start detailing just how high up he was in the Omi Alliance, of all things, you look sharply at them, up from the mirror.
“Why didn’t you tell me who he was?!” you asked, voice in a hushed, angry whisper, fingers coming to clench over the compact, snapping it shut.
“Aww, c’mon (y/n)… we wanted to but- but he’s…y’know… a little harder to work with. A-And he got along with you so well that we didn’t see any harm in not sayin’ anything!” The girl closest to you whines.
You look even more embarrassed, anger leaving you as fast as it came. "I mean...I mean I thought maybe he was...y'know, b-but I didn't think he was that high up." Your voice is hushed like he's in the next room over, listening from the wall. If Ryuji's who they say he is, you wouldn't be surprised about him having eyes and ears everywhere.
Your blood runs colder the more they tell you.
"We didn't even think you were gonna come back at all!" one of the other hostesses says, her voice hushed and tight. "I mean, seriously. You just walked out with a guy like that?"
"I mean...was I supposed to tell him no? It would have just made things worse. For everyone." You put your knuckles to your lips momentarily. "Do you think he'll come back here--or will they let him in at all?"
Another hostess scoffs. "I mean, like you said, nobody tells that guy no. If you're here he's obviously gonna come back."
You let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slouching. "Sorry...This is all...this is all a lot to take in."
The guy kills people. You just thought he was a little rough around the edges and liked a fight every now and then. He told you once a real man oughta be a little stupid, in defense of his rather uncouth habits. It'd made sense at the time. You cross your arms, giving a bit of a helpless look to your coworkers.
"Look, I'll try to deal with him. I mean, things will maybe probably go back to normal, right? It was just one night out."
You know your shift starts soon. No amount of gossip can justify you not being ready. Your old heels bite into your feet as you walk back to your usual booth. It's been cleaned, thankfully. It's a little annoying they had waited until after you left. Why hadn't they just moved you to a different booth to work yesterday night? You try too hard not to poke anymore at the slowly growing embers of despise for this haughty place. As you sit, you think about the shoes Ryuji bought you.
The shoes that the Dragon of Kansai had bought you.
You still don't know how to feel about him, about all of this. So you just try to focus on working. Luckily, as you'd predicted things seemed to largely return to normal. And Ryuji didn't show up at all. It makes you uncomfortable instead of relieved now. He's probably just busy. After all, he'd dropped in unexpectedly the previous night, much more frequent than his usual schedule. You put your thoughts regarding him aside for the millionth time that night and try to focus on smiling and laughing at whatever the client was droning on about. Once in awhile, your eyes leave his and momentarily check the front door for a big blonde head.
It never comes.
It's a surprise at all you were still having guests seated with you, after what he'd done to the other one. But you'd argue his reaction, while not justified in its violence and disruptiveness, was semi-rational. You hadn't wanted that man to touch you and the managers weren't helping, so he'd taken care of it himself. At least, that's how you chose to see Ryuji's actions. But as the week drew on, you realized the flow of clients to your booth was slowing considerably, down to a trickle. You're lucky to get one person during the night at all. And it isn't as if the club isn't busy either.
You're confused.
Are they avoiding seating clients with you?
And then, before you know it, by the end of the week, you're fired.
What the hell?
This was the first steady job you'd landed in a long time, and you'd blown it, and you don't even fucking know why. But...let's be real. A small part of you does. It's him. This is his fault. You can't help but grow frustrated and then, eventually, straight up angry. So, you do the logical thing--take your last payment and find the nearest bar. You don't even stop to change shoes or clothes in the backroom.
You don't want to look at this place ever again, blinking back hot, furious tears.
You're not a very heavy drinker, which means it's much much easier and much much cheaper to reach the level of drunkness you wanted to be at. Hopefully, enough to forget all of tonight and to stop feeling entirely. To stop feeling the shame and burning fury eating up your insides, enough to make you feel sick to your stomach. You drink all night. Enough to get kicked out of one bar and go wandering the streets, lights blurring in your eyes as you stagger.
God these shoes fucking hurt. Your heel snags in the cobblestone and you almost fall over. So you rip them off, giving them a good beating into the nearest brick wall, until one of the heels breaks off entirely, and then hurling the pieces over the next bridge you find before storming off further into the city. Only thin stockings separate your feet from the walkway. You don't know where you're going. You don't care. It's not like you can see anything to begin with, vision still blurred with enraged, drunken tears.
You pass through a random alley, getting sick of the passerby on the street looking at you. Why won't they stop looking at you? It makes you wish you'd kept your shoes to throw at them instead. Your empty hands clench into fists. A hostile hand grabs your shoulder, turning you to face a man you could have easily gone your whole life without ever seeing. Behind him, are more, each uglier and meaner looking than the last. And you despise every single one of them.
"Getthe fuck off me," you snap, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. You go to shove his hand off your shoulder.
"Fuck you say to me, bitch?!"
Your foul mood and even fouler words seem to do little to nothing to dissuade them. You give him the filthiest look you can muster, swatting his hand away for a second time. The man lunges for your throat, a palm pressed against your chest to shove you back into the brick wall. You cry out in pain, feeling it grit into your skin. The pain and feeling of helplessness only makes you angrier. You hate these fucking people. You hate this fucking town. And you think you hate Ryuji Goda too.
With strength you shouldn't have had in your state, you rip yourself out of the man's grip, delivering a mean knee directly between his legs. Angrily, you shove against his own chest, hoping he falls back and cracks his head open as he cries out in pain, calling you about every name in the book. When you go to spit at him as he tried to regain balance, three more yakuzas get their hands on you in an attempt to avenge their boss. One of them violently shoves you to the ground. No matter how angry and hurting you are, you can't realistically fight off this much muscle and that many hands at once. One of them grabs at your leg, knelt down by you, fingers traveling up.
With your face smashed into the concrete ground, a nasty foot flying into your side on intervals, a single clear thought crosses your mind amongst the messy, unorganized ones.
What's the fucking point anyways.
Suddenly, hands are torn off you. Hot breath is off your neck and shoulders, the rough fingers leave your hair, formerly yanking and pulling in an attempt to cause as much pain as possible. Blood spatters across your arm. And it isn't yours. There's thundering footsteps, all near your head, but never striking. Then, silence closed in. You stayed on the ground, holding your breath, heart pounding in your ears.
A hand touches you again. Again, you grow angry.
“Get the fuck offa me,” you mumble, raising a half hearted arm to shove the unwanted touch away.
An iron grip takes your wrist this time. A stronger wave of rage crashes over your— irrational and all too sudden. You go to smack whoever’s touching you before even really looking at a face. Everything’s still too blurry for you to really focus on anything. Your palm makes satisfying contact with a cheek, grazing over thick sideburn. Ryuji Goda does not flinch, he does not yield, in fact, he does not move even a fraction of an inch. His head stays where it is. Even more frustrated, you go for another strike. This time, he catches your other wrist as well. He feels you strain up against him.
For such a seemingly quiet, shy girl, you’re quite the belligerent drunk. Can you not even recognize him in this state? It's been awhile since he's visited the cabaret club, having been busy dealing with family matters, but he hadn't been gone long enough for you to forget. Your eyes finally meet his. And you have the nerve to glare at him.
“Get up, woman,” he says. “The streets is hardly a good place for ya.”
“Shove it, you-you jackass,” you snarl. “I’m fine. Might as well get used to it anyways.”
Now what in the fuck does that mean?
“I ain’t givin’ ya a choice anymore.”
Ryuji releases your wrists. Your first choice, obviously, is to try and get up and make your escape. You don’t have to bow to this asshole’s every whim anymore. You’re not his little hostess anymore. What had he called you before? His girl? However, while your mind has planned a swift getaway (he’s bigger than you, surely you can outrun him?) your very drunken, uncoordinated body disagrees. You’ve barely turned over before you feel rough hands on your sides, yanking you up off the ground.
You’re so panicked and angry now, being turned to face him, and then thrown over his broad shoulder with little effort, that you haven’t even had the time to think about why he’s doing this. You had imagined Ryuji Goda would be the type to give you a kick in the face for even looking at him wrong, drunk on the ground.
But as rough as he was picking you up, arm firmly trapping you atop his shoulder, you weren’t…hurting. At least, not from him, anyways. Your body still hurts from all the kicking. Your wrist is a little sore from his death grip, but he hasn’t beat on you at all. Unlike the other yakuza, who were still lurking and spying from street and alley corners, where they thought the Dragon couldn’t see them.
“Get me a fuckin’ car. I ain’t goin’ out tonight no more.”
He almost bumps your head getting you inside said car. He’s not at all gentle. Like he’s completely incapable, or like he doesn’t know how. At least, not anymore. But he tries, and that’s what confuses you further in your drunken haze. Why is he even trying?
A huff comes from him as he settles down beside you in the backseat and barks directions at the driver. With all the action getting your blood pumping, you regain some of your ability to move. Away from him— obviously. You choose the opposite door to lean upon, fatigue settling over you. Plus the cold helps with your nausea. Your eyes start to fall shut, despite the tense silence.
Some ways down the road (wherever he’s taking you) the driver hits a fast turn. The force sends you straight up against Ryuji’s shoulder. It’s like hitting another brick wall. An exasperated sigh leaves him and he throws an arm around you, keeping you firm there. When you go to struggle, he gives you a warning squeeze.
“Road gets bumpy here. Yer just gonna get thrown ‘round more.”
If you were sober, your blood would have run cold. A secondary location, and one far from the city, no doubt. Where no one could help you or hear you scream. Unfortunately, you’re much too busy feeling frustrated at the heavy arm around you, too focused on thinking of a way to break his grip. You end up giving up entirely, resigning yourself to your fate. It wouldn’t be the first time tonight.
The car rocks you into his side as you feel yourself already begin to doze off. Seriously? You're being taken to some mystery location, too drunk to even walk, much less run away, in a straight line, down a pair of shoes, in a car with a man who has killed people and this is the time for a quick nap? You want to scold yourself into being awake. Into continuing your temper tantrum. But your eyelids feel heavier and heavier and Ryuji's so warm. Out of the corner of his eye, the Dragon watches you try to fight off sleep. He's not surprised when you fail. It's past two in the morning now. Between the bruises on your arms from being jumped in the alley and the reek of booze on you, it's a wonder you'd stayed conscious for this long at all. He feels the weight of your cheek on the side of his chest, the heat of your breath burning through his layers of clothing, reaching his skin. Almost unconsciously, his arm holds a little tighter around you.
You're allowed maybe ten more minutes of light slumber before the car comes to a stop. Naturally, you start to wake up. Ryuji takes his arm off you. He ducks out of the car and your gaze follows him. He holds out his hand for you to take. You ignore it and scoot to the edge of the seat, standing up yourself. You grimace a little feeling the forest floor beneath your feet. It'll be an unpleasant walk, wherever it is he's taking you.
"C'mon," he mumbles, arm wrapping around you.
"The hell d'you think you're-"
He bends down briefly, forearm braced against the back of your legs. Ryuji lifts you up, throwing half of your body over his shoulder, securing your bottom half against his front. You let out a gasp at the suddenness, fingers finding a grip in the back of his jacket.
"I can walk myself," you say, voice tense.
Ryuji scoffs so hard you feel his shoulders bump you up briefly. "Doubt it. If y'could ya wouldn't even manage a straight line." The mocking tone leaves his voice. It quiets, just a little. "N' it ain't right to make a lady walk barefoot 'n all this."
That part was nice, you could admit. With your luck tonight, you would have gotten a burr or a thorn stuck in your foot. Not that you're in a place to choose, but he could have at least carried you bridal style so you could see where he was taking you. All you can do is watch helplessly as the car disappears into the woods, swallowed by trees and the night. Awkwardly, you try to crane your neck around to catch a glimpse of where Ryuji might be going. You think you see a house, a decently sized one. What's it doing all the way out here?
After he's on the front porch, you feel him shoulder the door open. A kick from him is enough to close it tight once he's ducked inside with you on his shoulder. The light flicks on and before you know it, he's settling you down on a couch. You sit up a little straighter, tense as all hell, glancing quickly around your new surroundings. It's fairly modest. On the table, you can't help but notice the sheathed katana.
"Least yer soberin' up a lil'," Ryuji comments, taking a seat nearby you, slouching forwards so his elbows rest on is knees. Maybe he's trying to make himself smaller to not freak you out as much.
"Where the fuck are we?" you ask, gaze landing on him once more.
He raises an eyebrow briefly. Once you'd been all prim and proper before him, dressed to the nines, perfect makeup, perfect hair, and that shy little attitude that really got him going. Now you're down both shoes, stockings torn, dress practically falling down, hair and makeup messy and askew, talking to him in a voice and tone he's rarely heard before. Back in the alley, when you'd laughed, it was there, just a little. If this is who you really are...he's not too displeased. You're...you're a lot like him. Maybe more than Ryuji initially thought.
He shrugs his shoulders, sitting back into the couch, arms outstretched over top of it. "Safehouse, kinda. A hideout. I dunno. Just somethin' away from the city." Ryuji's eyes linger on your face, watching for a reaction. "Nobody knows 'bout this place but me n' my old man."
Was that supposed to make you feel better?
Before you have a chance to edge in with another remark, Ryuji glares at you. "Now it's my turn--lemme ask ya a question. What in the hell were ya doin' to land yerself in that alley with six assholes on ya? Ain't'cha supposed t'be workin'?"
It's incredible how those last four words have the mystical power to piss you off all over again. Your fingers clench into fists.
“Not that it's any of your business but they fired me,” you said bitterly. “Once some of the clients started talking after what you did to that one jackass, no one wanted to request me anymore. Figured I was more trouble than I was worth, being 'Goda’s girl' and all.”
For the first time in a long time, Ryuji feels a little bad. Usually, it’s just rage and that little itch of ambition pushing him onwards. And of course, that familiar rage does settle in soon after. Firing you isn't just an insult to you, it’s an insult to him. But petty honorifics and insults aside, at the end of the day, he is the reason you were out, drunk out of your wits on that filthy street in torn stockings.
Those stockings… He looks at your legs for a little too long. Uncomfortably, you notice and cross them, lips tightening.
“Those dogs I chased off ya..." he starts, apparently on his way to hit on every single topic you didn't want to talk about tonight, "They do anything?”
You look at Ryuji. His eyes are dark. They’re always dark. He’s always hungry for a fight, for blood, another way to demonstrate his supremacy, to show that he is always on top. That ego and his possessiveness is the reason you’re here. But you swallow your spite. You tell the truth, albeit reluctantly. The fire's long gone from you when you have to admit it.
“One of them touched me.”
“I saw that, I was talkin’ about-“
“Before you showed up. One of them touched me.” You give an awkward clear of your throat, fists now at your thighs. You’re getting nauseous again having to talk about this with Ryuji of all people. You get ready to hear some disgusting shit from his mouth, the type of shit he whispered in your ear so shamelessly at the club when he was flirting. He was probably just gonna get mad he hadn't gotten to grope you first.
He’s silent. Just for a moment. “One hand, or both?”
You give him a frustrated look. Unbelievable, is the only thought that crosses your hazy mind. He’s still not used to seeing what you’re really feeling on your face. It’s unexpectedly…new. But not something he wouldn't like to get used to. There's some kinda of excitement to knowing you're taking off that little mask all hostesses wear for their clients, and getting personal with him specifically. No one else. Just him, he's sure.
“You’re asking me to remember which hand he put up my skirt?” You ask, deadpan. Chances were you would have burst into tears if you weren't busy being irritated at his absolute gall.
Ryuji’s head lifts a little and he looks down his nose at you. “No. Nothin’ of the sort. Just thought you’d want a lil’ jurisdiction over how he’s gonna pay.”
You see in his face he’s not joking. And for the first time ever, you don’t fucking care. Fuck keeping the peace-- look at what it's gotten you. Let Ryuji do whatever the hell he wants. It's not your job to babysit him anymore. It can’t reflect back on you in a way that truly matters anyways. As a hostess, once when he’d mused of violence, of how he was gonna beat the life out of a guy who looked at you wrong once, you’d begged and pleaded with him not to do anything.
But a part of you had always wondered if he was the type of man who wasn't just talking to talk. You wondered if he'd really go the distance for someone like you. Only one way to find out.
Let him have his fun now.
His brow lifts a little when he hears no sort of plead for this man’s wellbeing. He’s not stupid. He knows as a hostess, you’d been putting on a little show, an act, as they all do. It’s a character they play, and yours had been his favorite to tease and toy with. Even if the personality was fake, your blushes and flustering had been oh so very real.
And now he sees you as you are. And he likes it more than he thought he would. Your arms cross indignantly.
“If you think I’m gonna care, I don’t,” you spit. “Do whatever you want.”
Ryuji just smiles that uneven, unnerving smile of his.
“Your blessin’ is all I need.”
Ryuji leans forwards to grab the katana off the table. Like it's second nature, he allows it to rest over his shoulder--the one that he had carried you on. You watch him head towards the door again. That smile's still on his face.
"N' here I thought I wouldn't be needin' this tonight." Then he glances over his shoulder at you. "Sit tight, doll. There's not anything civilized within miles of here, so I'd stick around n' wait. Won't be long."
Then, he's gone out the door. You wait for a few silent moments, trying to figure out if he was joking. Probably not. He probably also wasn't lying about nothing but woods being around the house. If you really, really wanted to you could make a break for it. But there's something especially unappealing and unpleasant about the idea of wandering barefoot in the dense woods at night. And...if for whatever reason Ryuji managed to come back in time to track you down, he wouldn't be too pleased with you.
The smartest decision, as usual, is to obey. You let out a hefty sigh, pushing back your hair from your face and then letting your head drop into your hands exasperatedly, bent over in half. Now you have to be sobering up? You're already on a roll tonight the least Ryuji could have done to make up for getting you fired was fixing you another drink before he left. He almost looked too happy with that katana over his shoulder.
You flop onto your side, curling up into a ball.
Bastard coulda left a blanket or something too. As uncomfortable as it is being left alone in a strange house, you manage to fall back asleep.
You only wake up when the door slams open. You shoot upright, blinking the sleep from your eyes, squinting as Ryuji comes back in. There's blood spray across his face and stained onto his jacket. With a heavy sigh he tosses his furred jacket off and to the ground, carelessly. Kicks his shoes off too. Frantic breath stirs at his chest. Confused and out of it, you watch, headache beginning to set in. He throws his katana onto the other side of the couch, drawing nearer to you. He stands before you.
"Fucker that touched ya down both hands now. Shoulda seen him, cryin' on his knees like a fuckin' bitch."
"You...you cut off his hands?"
"Yep."
He answers like it's no big deal at all. You should be beyond fucking horrified. You should be reeling back, scared and panicking, worried that you're next. But you can only look up at him and feel a certain gratitude knowing that the fucker who groped you has paid for it in a way even you couldn't dream up of. Punishment from Ryuji is not for the weak.
"Thank you...Ryuji," you say, voice strangely quiet. Like even you're not truly sure how you feel.
"Anytime, doll. I mean that."
His hands suddenly find your waist, pulling you up to your feet and off the couch.
"Somethin' 'bout this all really gets my blood pumpin'," he says, voice raspy and close.
"I thought about kissing you that night," you randomly blurt out, catching him off guard. Ryuji looks at you a little funny. Do you mean...when...oh. That. Your face flushes.
Ryuji's dark brown eyes search yours. You don't know what he's looking for. But suddenly he leans forwards and his rough lips press against yours. You taste whiskey on him. His large hand entangles itself in the back of your hair, his body lurching against your own as you lean into his kiss. You don't know why. But a sort of tension lifts off you when you do. Like something that you'd been holding back for too long now, suppressing deep down, to a point where even you couldn't comprehend it. As you shut your eyes, you think about all the times you'd been nervous to even sit near him at the cabaret club.
You're not even a little afraid as a soft growl comes from him and he bites down on your bottom, pulling at it slightly before he breaks the kiss.
"You ever sleep in a king sized bed?" he asks, voice gruff.
"Huh?"
"American thing. You're gonna find out what it's like tonight."
Before you have a chance to ask another question, Ryuji practically drags you out of the room and down a hall. It all happens so fast you don't even have time to take in the structure of the house. The way he banged open the door to the bedroom should have knocked it off its hinges and onto the ground easily. Miraculously, despite his brute force, it holds.
Ryuji’s mouth crashes against yours once more with increased fervor, tongue pushed into your mouth. His hands take ahold of you, roughly, squeezing at your waist and the side of your thigh. He pushes you onto the bed. Only the light leaking down the hall from the other room fights off the dimness. You see the lust and fire flash in the Dragon's eyes as he drops over top of you, like some beast loose from those woods. You've seen it before, back in the cabaret club, back when he couldn't do something like this. Now there's nothing stopping him.
And that excites you now.
Surely you must be drunk. Surely you've lost it and that's why you suddenly need him like this. There has to be some sort of logical explanation for this all. But your mind stops searching when Ryuji rips what's left of your dress up and over your head, stripping it off you like it's nothing at all. You swear you hear stitches pop, he's so rough and unforgiving. It's the only other noise to penetrate the silence, other than your combined heavy breaths.
"Yer too fuckin' hot," Ryuji whispers into the skin of your throat, before you feel the heat of his tongue press against it. His teeth graze over you as he rips off top of his suit, and starts unbuttoning his shirt underneath. Something possesses you to pull it off by the sleeves, down his arms and off his body.
Suddenly, Ryuji grabs onto your legs, dragging them up and hooking them over his shoulders. Before you can say a word, he's grabbed onto your thighs, yanking you up further until only your upper back and shoulders touched the bed. A short squeal escapes you. The heat of his breath soaks through your underwear as he glances down at your briefly, eyes intense. His lip curls a little at your shocked expression before his face suddenly buries between your legs. You feel his hot tongue through the thin fabric, lapping slow and long. Whimpering, you squirm a little. Ryuji's hands shift to grip fully at your ass, keeping you square on his face, despite your fidgets and gasps.
He's already too much for you and he hasn't even taken your underwear off yet.
His teeth graze over you and you hiss between your teeth. "Ryu-" He yanks your underwear to the side, fingers kneading into your ass. You're cut off completely as his tongue presses flush to your pussy. You throw your head back into the mattress, muscles tensing as a moan leaves you.
"Yer sensitive," Ryuji mumbles against you, looking up and into your eyes. "I like it when ya moan like that, doll. Been wonderin' how it would sound..."
The flush on your face worsens.
"So ya still get all red n' cute even when yer not playin' hostess with me?"
You glare at him, overwhelmed and embarrassed. "Sh-shut up, Ryuji! Just- just, God-"
He laughs, and you flinch, hypersensitive, under each searing breath. Your thighs squeeze tighter around his head. His thick, blonde sideburns are so strangely soft against your skin. You'd always thought they'd be rough, like his hands or his lips or his voice.
When he comes down from the laughter, his face suddenly...softens. "Ya've never called me by my name before."
You wonder if that's a good or a bad thing. Suddenly, his mouth is back on your pussy, nose pressed to your clit momentarily as he starts to eat you out once more. There's your answer. You gasp out, breath spasming at your chest. Your fingers clench into the sheets of the massive bed, curling them into your firsts as your teeth grit. Cold pleasure wraps around you, dragging it's own fingers through your system, inch by inch, pressure building. Your hips buck up, against Ryuji's face and he takes full advantage. Does he relinquish his need for air, he's so determined to taste you as well?
As you call out his name, his grip tightens furthermore, like he thinks you're going to suddenly slip away. He sucks on your clit suddenly, noises downright lewd. You scream, before clamping your hands around your mouth, eyes screwing shut. Your thighs spasm around his head as he makes you cum.
"(Y/N)", he groans, voice low, continue to lap at you.
"Ngh, Ryuji," you whine as he continues on, throwing your head to the side, teeth glinting in the dimness as tears gather in your eyes from the overstimulation.
He doesn't stop until you've climaxed two more times. You're gasping for air, maybe even more than him, as he lets your legs drop down from his shoulders. They shake, even relaxed on the bed. Ryuji groans out again, nearly collapsing over top of you to kiss along your collarbone. He pulls you up further onto the bed with him, a hand under your back to guide you along.
"We ain't finished," he growls out, hand tightening on your waist as he looks up at you, eyes shaded by his heavy brow. His hips grind up against yours and you feel his cock hard, huge.
God, is the only coherent thought you're able to form, panting beneath him.
His hand leaves your waist to reach down and palm at himself through his pants. Loudly, he cusses, something not entirely uncommon for him, but the heatedness of his voice has you bothered and shifting restlessly beneath him once more. You realize fast you should make yourself useful. He watches as you reach down, fingers shaking, to undo his belt, sliding it off him. Tensely, he continues to observe as you thumb open the button of his pants, and move onto the zipper. He groans when the back of your knuckles drift over the outline of his erection and he suddenly grabs your hand. You freeze, before he brings your hand down completely, rubbing it over his clothed cock. You feel it twitch under your hesitant touch. You think you might burn alive, the way heat keeps enveloping you.
"Y'feel that?" he growls in your ear. "Better be grateful I gotcha ready fer me."
He feels you pull and releases your hand. For a moment, he wonders if you're gonna back out here and now. Instead, your hand shifts up to the waistband of his pants and pulls needily. All too encouraged, Ryuji joins your efforts, shoving them down, kicking them off the bed. His boxers are the next to go. You take in a breath at the sight of his cock.
It's properly huge, like him. Dark at the head, along with the coarse hair lining down to it from his stomach. Black hair...so he's not a natural blonde. I mean it was obvious, but based on his dedication with his facial hair, the sideburns, the eyebrows...you kinda thought he would have followed through with bleaching the rest of his body hair too. You can't help but smile a little at that discovery and Ryuji's head cocks to the side.
"Wha'so funny?" he asked.
He yanks your own underwear off, noting the way you still shiver at his touch. As he drags it down your legs you give him a giggle.
"It's just..." your fingers lightly brush over his eyebrows when he raises back up, face level with your own. "With all the bleach going on I thought you would be...y'know...down there too?"
"You been thinkin' 'bout my pubes a lot then, I take it? That's what was goin' thru that pretty little head of yers all this time? No wonder I couldn't figure ya out."
"Figure me out?" you ask, "I was trying to figure out what the fuck was up with you this whole time!"
"Well, see," Ryuji says, giving a heavy breath as he leans closer to you. His cock rubs unattended against your stomach as he comes nearer. "I'm jus' a stupid man. N' when a stupid man wants a woman real bad-"
He's funny. Ryuji Goda, Dragon of Kansai, whatever the fuck of the Omi Alliance, soon to be terrifying patriarch of the Go-Ryu clan, was funny. It seems so much easier to be vulnerable around him now. You start wondering if it'd really be so bad to continue giving into your desires, to his desires. Would it be so awful to be associated with him? He's already proven he could protect you if he needed to--there's some poor bastard roaming the streets with stumps where his hands should have been to back it up.
"Y'gonna keep torturin' me n' gigglin' down there or d'ya wanna have some real fun now?"
"Sorry," you smile. You sit up slightly to press a kiss to his lips. He goes to hold your cheek when you pull away, bringing you back in briefly. You remember when you'd thought perhaps he didn't know how to be gentle.
He did. He'd just never had the opportunity to prove he could be.
Ryuji lines himself up with your entrance. His hand rubs over your cunt, collecting your wetness and coating his dick with it, along with the precum gathering near the top. The hot tip of his cock pushes up against you a moment later and you inhale sharply, even though you knew it was coming. His palm pushes up against the side of your leg, fingers digging into your skin lightly. You'd expected him to be the kinda man to slam himself right in, ignoring whether or not you were ready for him. Just another way you suppose you've misunderstood him. He glances up at you, pausing momentarily. You realize he's waiting on you and give him a quick nod.
You try to relax as Ryuji begins to bury himself into you. He curses again, this time under his breath.
"Fuck yer tight. Ya squeeze me so good, doll. Gonna lose my fuckin' mind..."
His praise makes you weaker than you already are beneath him. A shaking moan leaves you, your eyes squeezing shut. "Uh...ughh..."
Ryuji begins to move. Slow at first, giving you time to adjust to his sheer size. Your legs wrap around him as his cock starts to pump with more confidence into you. You gasp out beneath him, eyes rolling in sheer bliss, fingers burying into his skin, your nails biting the dragon inked into his back. The burn of the stretch subsides, replaced with nothing but pure pleasure.
“Ryuji…Ryuji…” you moan out, voice keening as he brings you closer and closer to another powerful orgasm.
Body rocking beneath him, he growls, dragging his hips slow and harsh against yours, pushing in as deep as he possibly could. He bottoms out entirely, your cunt welcoming him. He'd imagined it'd feel something like this, while marveling at you in the cabaret clubs for so many nights. Ryuji grunts out, breath staggered as perspiration starts to form at his bleached hairline.
“I’m gonna buy out that shitty fuckin' club,” he suddenly snarls in your ear. He reaches back to grab one of your wrists, pinning it above your head and to the bed. “N’ I'm gonna fuck ya, hard, on every single thing in it.”
Desperately, your other hand leaves his muscular back. Your hand finds his thick, gold chain, encircling his neck. Fingers tight at his chain, you let out a moan as Ryuji mercilessly fucks into you. He growls, feeling the metal dig into his skin.
“Oh, Ryuji~,” you manage, through panting, “Ryuji, please, please Ryuji, oh my G-Godd…”
He captures your lips in another kiss, cutting off any further stammering. As much as he loves to hear his name, rolling, shaking, off your tongue, he prefers having his tongue down your throat far more. His ferocity, his passion, is beyond anything you’d ever imagined. He bites, hard, on your bottom lip, pulling slightly as you whimper beneath him, the pain mixing beautifully with the oncoming waves of euphoria. Ryuji’s rough, large hand, the one on the side of your leg, massages even harder into you, enough to leave bruises. He releases your wrist to grab your other leg, rutting your hips up against his own when you can no longer keep up with his pace.
"God, f-fuck..." you whimper, fingers traveling over his chest and then curling into his shoulders next. You still try to grind your hips against his, like you're desperate to prove yourself, trying to take him deeper inside. He growls through gritted teeth, the snarl on his face natural. He's like an animal.
It turns you on.
R-Ryuji,” you manage once more, and you feel him shiver at the sound of his name, your voice trembling as his cock drags slowly through you, working you through your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter as cold pleasure washes over you again and again. Heated moans sound from you--you can't hold them back anymore.
Even with the intensity of the moment, the way your body convulses beneath him, your hand reaches up, shaking as well, as you hold gently at the side of his face. Taken aback initially by the tenderness, Ryuji’s pace falters. His eyes meet yours, brows furrowed with effort. Your fingers caress along his skin, before pushing through his thick, blonde sideburns. His large, warm hand envelopes the top of yours, pushing your hand up harder to his face. He buries his cheek into your palm and a stuttering moan leaves him.
"Gonna," he mutters through gritted teeth. "Gonna cum...ya want it, sweet girl? Huh? Tell me how bad ya want it..."
You nod, frantically, world spinning. Your headache from the drinking's gotten worse, but you don't care. All you care about right now is pleasing him. "I need you, Ryuji-"
He jerks you flush against him, not sparing an inch between the two of you. He strains, teeth clenched. You feel his hot cum filling you and suck in a sharp breath. Even when he's finished, he spends a few more moments buried inside you. His weight falls on one of his elbows, now placed at your side, in an attempt to not crush you.
"Fuck," Ryuji breathes out.
He rolls off of you, to your side. You sit up for a moment, catching a glimpse of the massive golden dragon inked into his back. Holy shit? He watches your facial expression change, then realizes what you've seen.
"My...my pride n' joy," he manages, still catching his breath.
Crawling closer to his side, you take a closer look. You suppose when you've been pinned under such a big guy for that long in a room this dim, it'd be kinda hard to notice. Ryuji sits up as well. Quietly, you put your hands up to his back again. You've left reddened welt along his back from the drag of your nails. Your fingertips trace over the dragon's face. You'd be lying if you didn't admit it was the coolest tattoo you had ever seen in your life.
"If ya want," Ryuji started, giving a glance over his broad shoulder. "Y'could see it every day."
Your eyes meet his, hand finally leaving the art on his skin. "Hm?"
He turns over fully to face you, lounging down onto the mattress. He looks up at you. "Ya said y'lost yer job, right? Wouldn't mind too much if ya hung around with me, til' you got a new one."
He's offering to let you stay with him? Here?
"Ummmm..." he sees the way your shoulders sink a little. Uncertainty dances across your still reddened face.
"Got other places around the country y'know. Doesn't have t'be here." He flattens his hand against the sheets, giving them a pat. Telling you to lay down. You do so, facing him. His arm wraps over you, bringing you closer, so you're practically nose to nose with him. "I feel bad. 'Bout gettin' you fired. Honest. I wanna help ya get back on yer feet."
"I-I don't have anything against that, Ryuji, it's just...I dunno."
"Well 'course ya dunno. Practically fucked yer brains out."
You smile a little. "Guess you're right about that," you sigh.
Ryuji brings you closer to press his lips to your forehead. Your eyes fall half shut as he holds you in his arms. The dragon coils around you. Staying with him doesn't feel like a bad idea. But you know better than to make such a big decision this late (or early in the morning), still a little drunk, and coming down from the high of that many orgasms.
"Tell ya what," Ryuji murmurs against your skin. "Sleep on it a lil'. Y'don't gotta worry 'bout a thing."
A sigh leaves you and Ryuji feels your body relax in his arms. You shut your eyes, nuzzling into him. You feel his chin on top of your head, his hands roaming up your back to hold you close.
"Just know I've gotcha doll."