I would do it again.
Starring: Kokushibo x f!reader; Yoriichi x f!reader (mentioned)
Warnings: nsfw, modern au, cheating, slight angst, pregnacy, breeding kink, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, alcohol, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Kokushibo receiving) morally grey reader, dom!kokushibo, sub!reader, revenge, implied reference to inferiority complex.
Plot: you were married to Yoriichi. You loved him, you really did, but your relationship grew colder as he had to spend months away from you for work. No calls, no texts, no chances to meet up somewhere. You were on your lowest when his brother, Kokushibo, showed up at your place. He told you he was going to stay for a while and that you would have not even noticed his presence around. However, loneliness and the twisted desire of taking a bite from the forbidden fruit brought you two together. Your secret, sinful affaire did not stop when Yoriichi returned. You got pregnant and you knew who the father was. Kokushibo left then, not forgetting about you and the child his brother would have claimed as his. He had taken his little satisfaction over him, he had you and your heart, no matter what.
Three months. You had no idea of where he was. You knew right from the start it would have been hard, but you did not expect to spend your whole life without him. He did not call you even once a week. Nor texts, neither letters, nothing. Whenever he had to leave, it felt like you had never even married him. He always said it was necessary, claiming he did it because he wanted to keep you safe. At what cost, though? If it was not a bullet through your head, it was his absence killing you instead.
You missed him. You still loved him and, apparently, he did too. It was absurd how he could act as a loving husband around you and then turn into a cold-hearted man you barely recognized, as soon as drove off to the airport.
“Fuck it…” you muttered, downing the third shot of vodka you had poured yourself to forget about the broken heart in your chest. You could not do this anymore, you knew it. Your house was too big for you to live in it alone. You clutched the fabric of one of shirt in your hands, sinking your nose into it in search for any trace of his existence. The creased item still smelled strongly of his favorite perfume.
You sobbed, curling yourself up in a ball on the couch and cursed yourself for having fallen in love with him at college. How could you not love him, though? He was the most handsome, brilliant, shy and kind person you had ever met in your life. Your hearts matched. He was the missing piece you had been searching for since you were born. Where was he now, then?
To snap you out of your stream of consciousness was someone knocking on the front door. Could it have been Yoriichi? You scoffed, wiping away your tears with the hem of your sweater as you reminded yourself that he would have never knocked. He had the keys, he always unlocked the door himself.
You still had to wait to see his face again.
You hopped down from the couch, your bare feet touching the cold floor as you sneakily made your way to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, just in case you had to defend yourself. What if Yoriichi was right? What if it was someone who wanted to hurt you, to hurt him? What if they had found you? You heart thrummed in your chest as you approached the front door, your grip on the hilt of the knife tightening.
“Y/N, are you home? It’s me… Kokushibo” the deep, hoarse voice of your husband’s twin pierced your ears.
Michikatsu. It had been two years since you last saw him. Just like your husband, he lived a life of danger, anonymity. Maybe it was even worse than Yoriichi’s one. He had to change his name for it. What did he want from you now, in the middle of the night?
You unlocked the door, dropping your hand still holding the weapon down your side and your droopy, puffy eyes met his maroon ones. There he was, Koksuhibo, the stolid Tsugikuni twin, the opposite of your husband. He stood on the porch, a luggage at his feet and a black raincoat embracing his slender, yet muscular frame perfectly. He held no sympathy in his eyes as he stared back at you. His eyes scanned your face attentively, then travelled down your body and you frowned at the way he averted his eyes from you.
You were about to ask him what was wrong, when the cold winter breeze made you realize how inappropriate your attire was. Your legs were completely exposed to the icy air, to his gaze. The blue, oversized sweater you were wearing only reached the middle of your thighs and your cheeks flushed up as you stepped behind the door and gestured for him to enter.
“Hi” you feebly said, as he picked up his heavy luggage and crossed the threshold.
“Did I wake you up?” he asked, taking a look around the silent, dark living room. It was oddly tidy. It looked almost if no one lived in here. Except for the coffee table in front of the couch. Photographs, empty bottles of liquors and an half-eaten meal laid on it.
You sniffed, closing the door behind you and weakly shook your head “No, I could not sleep – you whispered, eyes downcast not to meet his gaze – What brings you here?” you asked him, walking over to the counter and throwing the knife into the sink.
“I need a place to stay for a while. Don’t worry, you are going to forget I am even here – he stated, taking his black leather gloves off – Where’s he?”.
He. Right, how could you forget the rivalry between them? It was one-sided, yet evident. You had tried to ask your husband about it, but all he said was that Kokushibo had a serious inferiority complex. It was not much of an answer and you were sure there was more about it that Yoriichi did not feel like talking about, or share. Not even with you.
“He’s left three months ago. I haven’t heard from him since then” you quipped, walking past him to slump back into your couch. However, your unexpected visitor had other plans for you.
You felt his hand wrap around your wrist in a iron-grip and you were forced to halt. You could feel his intense gaze boring holes on the back of your head and gulped down, waiting for him to speak again and allow you to slip back into your catatonic loop of saddness, fear and loneliness. A self-destructing coping mechanism, indeed.
“How’re you, Y/N?” he inquired, making your breath hitch into your throat.
“My brother might be blind, but I am not. What the fuck are you doing?” he asked again, swinging you around roughly. You hissed, wriggling your arm in his grip as your eyes met his ones for a split second. He seemed genuinely concerned about you.
How did he notice it in five minutes? How could he see your pain, when your husband did not?
“I’m going on, let me go” you blurted out, opting for keeping the eye-contact with him. Fighting was pointless. He was shamelessly strong and stubborn. There was no way in the world he would have let you go. Not until you had dignified him with a proper answer, at least.
“Drinking and crying yourself to sleep is not the answer. You are hurting yourself” he sternly replied, tugging you closer to him until you almost bumped against his broaded chest.
His cologne, God, his strong cologne pierced your nostrils in the same alluring way your husband’s one did in the past. That was another reminder for you of how distant you two had become: your sex drive had totally died out. He did not touch you, he did not worship your body as he used to when you got married. No.
You missed the physical contact you had with him.
And you cursed yourself for the way you were feeling now, under Kokushibo’s touch. It was immoral, wrong. You were ashamed of yourself. Then again, you were half-drunk, tired, drained. Could you really blame yourself for it?
“Why do you care about it, huh? It’s not your problem! You never gave a damn about me!” you snapped, swallowing the lump in your throat preventing you to properly breathe.
He tensed, his lips reduced to a thin-line at your harsh words “Because it should have been me. You should have married me, not him” he bitterly retorted, darting his hooded eyes down on your writhing frame.
You parted your lips in disbelief, tears welling up in your eyes as you banged the fist of your free hand against his chest in frustration. Why? Why did he have to say that? Why was he playing with you again? What was he talking about? He never showed interest in you.
“How dare you? Shut up, just leave! Were you not supposed to make me forget you are here? Let me be, let me–…” you yelled at his face, but you never finished the sentence.
Before you could vomit your anger on him, your back hit the wall behind you, the air knocked out of your lungs for a second, as his lips connected with yours in a fiery, fervent kiss. Your eyes grew round as his tongue brushed over your lower lip to ask for the permission to enter your mouth. You wanted to deny it, but your body craved it. You craved him, you craved the warmth of a body over yours.
You craved love and he was providing you it.
You returned the kiss with equal passion, your hands cupping his smooth cheeks as you hoisted your leg over his hip to pull him closer. He grunted in your mouth, one of his hands caressing the bare skin of your thigh as he grounded his groin down onto yours. A throaty moan fell from your lips as he repeated the action and his mouth assaulted your neck.
You did not care about the marks he was leaving behind him, on your once flawless skin. They would have faded sooner or later and, surely, your husband would have never known about them. He was not there. He was not coming back for a long time.
“What are we— Argh! What are we doing?” you breathed out, fumbling with the buttons of his raincoat and helping him to take it off.
He discarded it carelessly behind him on the floor, hooking his hands underneath your thighs and picking you up effortlessly. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively as he made his way to your bedroom.
How many times you had walked down that corridor, hoping in vain that your husband would have joined you and showered you in affection between the untouched bedsheets of your bed. You remembered the fire within his eyes, back when you got married, when he made you feel on cloud nine. Where was that fire now? It had died out.
“I’m doing exactly what I had to do ages ago” Kokushibo uttered, between hot kisses as he let you down onto the bed and carefully crawled on top of you. You trembled, your hands reaching up to tear his shirt open. The buttons flew across the room, lost forever under the bed, as your eyes contemplated his chiseled body. He was deadly handsome. You blushed and Kokushibo stroked your cheek, half-lidded eyes soaking in your features barely enlightened by the dim moonlight seeping through the courtains.
You were so beautiful. How could that bastard not see it? How could he let you crumble down like that?
He got rid of his shirt and he grasped your hand, leading it to lay flat onto his chest “You can touch me, Y/N” he murmured, watching you bite down your lower lip softly, probably still trying to ponder if what you were doing was right or wrong. You were cheating on your husband, you were stabbing his back by fucking his brother in your bedroom, on your shared bed.
On the same bed where you had told him you loved him.
“Michikatsu…” you called his name, making the man’s eyes widen even so slightly as you said his real name. No one had done it in years. No one had ever whispered it so sweetly, so lovingly. He knew you were different. You had never insulted him, you had never hurt him.
You were supposed to be his right from the start. He would have treated you better, he would have loved you better.
“Make love to me” you added, staring deep into his shimmering eyes. You wanted it, you trusted him, you were willing to nurture this new spark between you two. Could you forgive yourself for it in the future?
He did not reply, his fingers slipped between the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and exposing your aching cunt to his vicious eyes. You felt embarrassed. No man, except for your husband, had seen you naked in a long time. The idea of displaying your wet folds to Yoriichi’s brother sent shivers down your spine.
He did not waste time in dipping his fingers into you. He groaned at the way they slipped into your core smoothly, effortlessly. You were made for him. Your mouth hanged open, your back arching as he pumped his colloused digits in and out of you at a regular pace. The pleasure engulfing your stomach could not be compared to the small amount you felt when you touched yourself on Yoriichi. It was defferent, on another level. Kokushibo knew perfectly what you needed. You moaned out his name as he added a third finger, curling them into you to stimulate your spongy walls.
“M-More. Michikatsu, please— Give me more” you pleaded him, craning your neck in ecstasy.
His eyes clouded over in lust as he pulled his fingers out of you and suddenly flipped you over on your stomach, hastily unbuckling the belt of his trousers. You heard him unzipping them and before you knew it he had his hands on your hips, roughly pulling them up to assure himself a better access to your pussy. You closed your eyes, a yelp leaving your swollen lips when he smacked your ass and dragged the tip of his shaft along your folds to collect some juices. You could tell he was big, maybe even bigger than Yoriichi and it only meant one thing: it would have hurt, especially after a long period of not welcoming a cock between your walls.
“Be a good girl for me, Y/N. – he cooed, pressing the tip of his length to your entrance – Act like you’re my wife, as you should’ve been right from the start” he added, before slowly pushing past your folds. He grunted at the way your walls squeezed him tightly and he clenched his teeth not to bottom out completly with one thrust.
You writhed beaneath him, whimpers of pain and pleasure mixing together on your tongue as he conquered more inches, until he gave you one last hard thrust and you felt your ass pressing up against his navel.
He stayed still a minute, maybe two, to give you enough time to adjust to his massive size, drawing soothing circles on your back to make you relax. Your cheek was pressed down onto the pillow, your back arched to a painful angle, but it did not matter. It was worthy.
He gave you no warning as he started thrusting into your from behind, the sound of his thighs slapping your ass as he slammed you down into him was vulgar, lewd, shameful. But the unholy mantra you chanted as he filled you up, as he stretched you out until you were loose enough for his girth was heavenly.
“Michikatsu!” you cried out, the pressure coiling into your stomach was unbearable as he picked up the place and his hands left marks onto the soft flesh of your hips.
You could not hold on anymore. Your walls clamped down his cock as you reached your orgasm, milking his cock. Your breath was uneven, your mind fuzzy as he grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you up, until his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.
“I’ll fucking cum inside you. I’ll fuck a baby into you, Y/N. You are mine. He has no more rights over you” he rasped, giving you a few sloppy thrusts before he released his seed into you. You did not protest. Your silent consent screamed out his name as you both collapsed onto the bed, out of breath.
It did not stop that night. For two months he fucked you everyday, making sure his seed did not leaked out of your hole. He was loving out of bed, a beast into the sheets. You grew to love the taste of his cum, when you knelt between his legs and bobbed your head up and down his dick. You started to love him, in the same wicked way that he loved you.
Everywhere you looked around the house, you could picture him taking you in any possible position. You straddled him on the couch, he bent you over the counter in the kitchen, he had you held up against the wall in the shower. He had owned you in every way you vould have ever imagined.
After another month of being away, Yoriichi finally came back. Surprisingly, he did not take notice of the way his brother looked at you, or how your skin smelled like him most of the times. He was just happy to be reunited with his wife and how could you deny him the affection you had longed for during his absence. You made love to him, the night he had come back to you. You had done it the day before with Michikatsu and only God knew how much you loved him.
Two weeks later, you found out you were pregnant. The good news was that the period of conception coincided with Yoriichi’s return. Nevertheless, you knew who was the father.
You watched Kokushibo leave a few days after the news. The bond with his brother seemed to have weirdly developed into a stronger one.
“You should visit us more frequently! And, please, I’d appreciate it very much, if you could keep company to my wife, when I’m gone” Yoriichi said, smiling contently at his brother.
Kokushibo faintly smiled back at him, his eyes locking with yours for a few seconds, before he nodded his head to his brother “I will take good care of her, brother”.
I would do it again, Michikatsu thought then, hopping into his car. Yoriichi’s life was now his.
AUTHOR NOTE.
Hi there! I know I should’ve posted Douma’s one-shot earlier, but somehow I felt inspired and completed this project. Ugh, poor Yoriichi, but … I wanted to write something different for Kokushibo. He deserves to be happy too. No matter the cost!Likes, comments and reposts are appreciated!
