#haguni

You and your boyfriend are a match made in Heaven. What is it that they say? Opposites attract?

That couldn't be more true for you and the man affectionately known to most people as Hatter. Though to you, he'd always be Takeru - a loud, messy kind of guy with a larger-than-life personality; a true leader of people, you could say, something like a king in his own rite. Or at least, that's probably what he'd like for people to perceive. And you? You're a fairly reserved kind of girl - quiet, observant, and sweeter than candy. Always kind, always generous, and almost always crying for one reason or another.

A perfectly submissive counterpart to his dominance.

A lot of people would probably get annoyed with how emotional you can be, or with how easily tears can be ellicited. You've witnessed it first hand in previous relationships, always having your partner gaslighting you into feeling guilty about crying "yet again", when it was usually their insensitive words or actions that led you there in the first place.

Not Takeru, though. No, Takeru absolutely eats it up and has since the second that you met. You'd accidentally bumped into him while looking down at your phone, weeping fondly over the adorable video of your best friend's baby playing with the family dog she'd sent earlier in the day. Of course, you'd cried even harder as you apologized profusely for your carelessness, but Takeru had been smitten instantly.

You're certain that his favorite pasttime is picking on you when you're already in a fragile state, hoping above all hope that he'll get a front row seat to watch your lashline sparkle with fresh tears . . . it turns him into a feral dog every. single. time. He loves the way your pretty face scrunches up the second you see something sad. He loves the way your manicured eyebrows thread together and your perfect pouty lips get all quivery when you see something that's "just so beautiful". But he especially loves the way your gorgeous eyes get glassy and spill over with the glittering drops, cascading like two rivers down your cheeks when you reach the point of emotional overwhelm. God he loves you.

"Want me to give you a good reason for tears, my love?" He'll whisper teasingly at the shell of your ear, the facial hair you always beg him not to mess with tickling the sensitive skin. The strong muscles of his chest ripple with his movement as he pulls your back flush to him, his hand snaking around to press dangerously into the column of your throat. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, your breath always hitches, heat pooling in your lower belly the second he even starts the sentence.

Because you knew he always would.

It's always that delicious question, posed more like a promise or even a threat that landed you straight on your back pressed into a flimsy cardboard box in the stockroom of the hat shop. Your feet lock behind his neck, perfect legs draped over his shoulders as if they belong there as his length thrusts into you ruthlessly, the blue and orange kimono-like robe he insisted on wearing for "your privacy" billowing around him. The pad of his thumb draws lazy circles on your sensitive bud that don't quite match his pace, but it doesn't matter. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he does it well.

Given the difference in your sizes, and just how well-endowed Takeru is, it isn't long before your lashes are soaked with tears; encouraged by the incredible stretch of your tight hole around his girth, and the long, languid strokes that force the tip of his pretty, reddened cock to kiss your cervix. So deep. So sensual. So perfect, every time.

He throws his head back with a growl, curly, sweat-soaked hair messy and chaotic; you couldn't design a more perfect physical representation of him if you tried. "Fuck, I love when you cry like this, with my cock splitting you open . . . do you even remember what you were crying about before, baby?"

You shake your head emphatically no, your eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure as the tears continue to roll down your cheeks and into your hair. Of course you have no idea what you were crying about, the only thing worthy of your attention now is Takeru, and submitting yourself fully to the way he worships your body. One of his hands remains lazily teasing your clit while the other alternates between rolling your pebbled nipples between his thumb and index finger.

The prettiest moan always falls from your swollen lips, choked a little bit from your pleasure-induced sobbing, the second his lips and tongue find one of those hardened peaks. Takeru loves to bite the sensitive skin before running over it with his warm, wet tongue like a balm, over and over again until goosebumps have erupted on every inch of your body and you're sniffling from the contrast of pleasure and pain.

The sound that tears from his throat is guttural, almost primal with desire and love when your pussy starts to flutter, lowering his full body weight onto you to crush you into a messy mating press. His tongue flicks out again, this time licking the streams of tears from your rosy cheeks before slamming his lips down onto yours, forcing you both to savor the salty taste. By this point, it's always almost too much - too erotic, too overstimulating, too strangely romantic. You're vaguely aware in your blissed-out state that the box he's laid you down on won't support both of your weights for long, but you also know that Takeru will never stop until he reaches his goal, not until you're both tossed over the edge of ecstasy. And that's just another reason you love him so much.

The sounds filling the stockroom are lewd and damn near pornographic - the wet slapping of his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy as his heavy balls ram deliciously against your ass, tightening up the closer he gets to his orgasm; the way the two of you pant wildly for breath in overexertion as you both chase your high, and of course, your quiet little sniffles as you can't help but continue crying. Your fingernails dig into his muscular biceps, your hole clamping down hard as you cry out with watery words, your orgasm finally taking over, "Takeru!"

Takeru practically roars as he pulls out just in time after being triggered by your orgasm, hot ropes of his cum painting your bare belly and chest like a masterpiece. You'd almost prefer he just came inside you, to save the mess that always follows, but . . . "Darling, don't you know the mess is my favorite part?" He'd always ask if you tried to propose it. He swipes up a few of your lingering tears and drags his finger through the cum on your belly, dominatingly stuffing his thumb into your mouth. "Don't we taste good together, love? God, you're such a good girl for me."

By then, the box almost always has enough, not planning on waiting for the two of you to have aftercare and pillowtalk too, crumpling under your combined weight and sending you both careening to the floor in a fit of your squeals and his chuckles.

It doesn't matter, this messy life is perfect; Takeru always scoops you up off the floor, shrugging the colorful robe off and wrapping it lovingly around you while he gets you cleaned up, kissing your pretty nose and lips as he works.

There will always be more boxes.

For all of the times that this exact situation plays out over the course of your three year relationship - and let's be real, that's at least once or twice a week - you're blessed that you're only caught one time. And doubly blessed that it's Takeru's childhood best friend that happens upon you.

You'll never forget how you'd been mid pleasure-filled sob when Aguni's stoic face peeked around the curtain after calling out your names but failing to wait for a response. How you'd cried even harder when panic and something else - excitement? had bloomed in your chest. And Takeru, oh . . . you knew in an instant that your boyfriend loved that his best friend was here, watching him glide in and out of your pussy. His abs had flexed and his cock had pulsed, filling your tight channel with a guttural sound deep from his belly.

You'll never forget how Aguni had stood frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to take his rapidly darkening eyes off of the sight in front of him. You could tell by the way his chest tightened, the vein in his forehead bulging just slightly as something else visibly bulged too, that he was caught somewhere between surprise, guilt, and arousal. A strange mix of emotions, but it looked good on him.

Takeru had thought so too.

Your boyfriend had clapped his hands together in glee at being caught by his best friend, his dark eyes sparkling in a mischievous way while his softening cock remained inside you.

"I have an incredible idea."

And that is how you ended up tangled in your bedsheets with not just one but two boyfriends, absolutely wailing in overstimulation. Takeru was in heaven, his ring-clad fingers digging tightly into the meat of your hips, guiding your pace as you ride him. Aguni's arms stay wrapped steadyingly around your waist, palms splayed widely on your belly as his cock stretches your tight ass around him.

As much as Takeru loved to fold you in half and dominate the hell out of you, he also loved to have you ride his cock. Why? Well because once you were overstimulated enough, which happened much faster now because of Aguni's massive member being stuffed inside you too, the hot tears would start to fall, and Takeru would have the absolute pleasure of being rained on by them.

"Ah, fuck, Aguni . . . pound her harder. I want her to sob for us," He'd growl, flicking your nipple with his middle finger. And though Aguni didn't really get it, this kink that Takeru had for your crying, he'd lower one of his hands still wrapped around you, expertly finding the swollen bud of your clit and picking up his pace so that you're bouncing between his cock and Takeru's.

You would inevitably cry harder, your eyebrows pinching together as you allow yourself to drown in the pleasure that can only be given to you by two men that hold so much love in their hearts for you and for each other. Kiss swollen lips would part in a wail, a mixture of both their names and whatever else you can blubber out incoherently, tears cascading down onto Takeru's chest and face - oh yes, he was intoxicated by these moments. For a long time, Aguni truly thought that Takeru was just exerting his dominance over you, or even just being a little bit of a freak as his friend-turned-lover is truly known to be.

"Stop making her sad on purpose, Takeru. You're supposed to make her feel better, not worse," He'd grumble when your boyfriend egged you on, trying to make the tears spill over regardless of what the three of you were doing, it didn't need to be explicit, but it would almost always turn that way anyway.

But really, you cried so much and so often that most people in your life didn't bat an eye at it anymore, and Aguni had eventually become accustomed to it as well. Becoming emotional and crying was simply a part of you that your loved ones had to come to understand.

That is, until the incident.

Your sweet mother, a total trainwreck not unlike yourself (I mean, where did you think you got it from?) had called you in a panic. "Where are you? Shibuya was destroyed. You aren't near there, are you?"

No, you had answered, grabbing your purse and keys in a hurry, tripping over the rug in the hallway. Because Takeru and Aguni had been in Shibuya this morning on a mission to get breakfast for the three of you.

They hadn't come home yet.

It was only a few minutes later, as you stand barricaded away from the wreckage that had once been one of your favorite places in the world with the other panicked citizens trying to get information on missing loved ones, that you got the call that changed your entire life.

They wouldn't be coming home today.

Takeru is gone. But miraculously, Aguni should one day make a full recovery.

The life drained from you in that instant, the words delivered by a very apologetic nurse, who no doubt had been tasked with making some incredibly difficult phone calls, echoing in your ears. Takeru is gone. He's gone, and he won't be coming back. It feels like your entire life's purpose has been stripped from you, like the glue that had held you together is suddenly missing without you ever getting the chance to say goodbye.

But then you remember - Aguni is still alive. And how can you possibly live two without the third? Without the one who had really cultivated and held this love triangle together? How can you and Aguni make this work?

And you consider for a while, that maybe you don't. Maybe this is where you and Aguni go your separate ways and pretend nothing had ever happened between the three of you. That he had simply been Takeru's childhood best friend, and you Takeru's girlfriend. Just acquaintances, people that encountered one another in passing but nothing more. That is what the vast majority of people believed anyway.

You even told yourself that you could be fine walking away from it, from him and all the pieces of your lost boyfriend that he holds in his heart and carries with him. But when the hospital calls days later to let you know that Aguni is finally awake and asking for you . . . that he had asked about Takeru too, your feet and heart take you straight to his bedside and you vow to stay forever. No matter how hard it would be.

You could and would make this work, because he is the only thing you have left.

The whisperings and gossip of acquaintances and even some friends and family filtered back to the two of you, because you'd decided to be very public and intentional about your relationship with Aguni now. "Her and Aguni . . . his best friend. How could she have moved on so quickly? Maybe it's just the shock. She'll leave him when she starts processing the grief." Disapproval, surprise, more grief.

But they didn't know what you knew. Hadn't seen the way Takeru loved to kiss you then turn his head to kiss Aguni, then push you and Aguni's faces together. This was a concept kept secret and private between the three of you while you figured out what exactly it meant, that hadn't had a chance to be taken public or announced to the world. Oh, how you wish now that you had. Even just once, had dinner all three of you where you held hands, fed each other pieces of food, snuggled together.

Because now you'd never get the chance to show them both off as yours. And now? You look like a widow that runs straight to the closest person to your dearly deceased, and Aguni looks like he stole his best friend's girl.

Neither of you care, not really. Because you know. You know that Takeru would have wanted this, would have encouraged you to stay together. To lean on each other through the pain - to cry together. Oh, would that dear boyfriend of yours have wanted you to cry.

But the thing is, you haven't shed a single tear since the day that Takeru died, too numb and missing the piece of you that had truly made you shine. You cling to Aguni, waiting impatiently for him to heal enough to go home. You sit with him as he cries for Takeru, and for you, and for the polyamorous relationship that you hadn't cherished or shown off nearly as much as you should have for what it was worth to you.

You personally don't acknowledge it much, not really. And certainly not in the way most people expected from you. It's more of a denial than anything else, that your boyfriend couldn't possibly be gone. Where Aguni wants to talk about him, wants to grieve him, you simply can't. You just feel cold, numb; empty and dry of tears for the first time in your life.

Aguni is patient and understanding as he moves through the stages of grief while you stay frozen in place, stubbornly deciding that denial is where you'll just have to live until you finally take your last breath.

But after yet another argument with your parents, of them telling you that this isn't you, that what you're doing isn't protecting you but hurting you further, and that it certainly isn't helping Aguni, you finally crack just a little bit. Enough to decide to try. To try to feel something other than a void where your heart and soul should be.

That is how you'd ended up here, nearly a year after the incident, back in the stockroom of the lonely and abandoned hat shop. Dust floats in the stale air like a snowglobe, because neither you nor Aguni had had the courage to return since just before Takeru's funeral.

"We don't have to do this," Aguni assures you quietly, a soothing hand interlacing with yours as you stand staring shakily at the boxes of unopened accessories. You swallow the lump forming in your throat, the first sign of emotion that you've displayed in eleven months.

"I-i want to. I need to feel what it's like again," You murmur, closing your eyes to try to surrender to the emotions of your familiar surroundings. Aguni watches you silently, observing, before releasing your hand and quietly moving behind you. He pulls you flush against his chest, his muscular, much more intimidating form elliciting a shiver to wrack through your body. Having seen Takeru do this very thing to you many many times since the three of you became involved, he presses his lips to the shell of your ear, "Do you want me to give you a good reason for tears, my love?" He asks, just like he would have.

That does it. God, does that do it. It being so many things, but the best of all? Making you absolutely sob as you nod emphatically, turning around in Aguni's arms and pressing your tear-soaked face into his neck.

Aguni's fingers card into your hair soothingly, tilting your head back to look up at him. Unlike your late boyfriend, he doesn't lick your tears off your cheeks, but instead kisses them, his own tears pooling at his lash line.

You reach up between the two of you, gently cupping his cheeks in your palms. Your foreheads naturally gravitate to each other in a kiss, the two of you standing there in the empty stockroom, swaying together as you finally succumb to the emotions that had been building deep inside you. No longer trying to stay strong for Aguni, no more withholding tears because even those remind you of what you've lost. Fuck, if this isn't exactly what the two of you needed.

"I miss him," you say finally, your voice watery and shaky as you finally address the loss of Takeru for the first time since it happened. Your eyes flick briefly around the dimly lit space, every nook and cranny wrecking you a little more with ghosts of memories. Aguni has to catch you from falling to the ground when your gaze finally lands on the blue and orange kimono that Takeru had always insisted on wearing when he fucked you back here.

He's gentle as he cradles your head, pressing soft kisses all over your face and down your neck. "I get it now," he murmurs quietly, kissing your eyelids gently and savoring the way your tears taste on his lips. "He wasn't just being a freak." You look up at him questioningly, the warm, bulb light reflecting brightly in the tears still sitting at your waterline.

Aguni chuckles, pressing a kiss now to your red nose. "Takeru's obsession with you crying. It wasn't just another one of his quirks. He thought your emotions were beautiful and he loved it."

He lays you down, your back pressing into the familiar texture of the cardboard box. His touch is sweet as ever when he wraps Takeru's cherished robe around you, kissing every inch of your skin before sheathing himself inside you. Hours pass as you make love slow and sweet, a remembrance of what you'd both lost, and the start of something completely new for the two of you.

It's not quite the same as the way Takeru had done it, but maybe this is exactly what you and Aguni had needed to find - your own dynamic. Where Takeru had been feral, passionate, and near obsessed with you, what Aguni and you are building is softer, sweeter. Still passionate and loving, but just in a different way.

So now you know that it's time to re-open Hat Danma for the public, you and Aguni together; crying tears of despair, of happiness, and of absolute pleasure.

Takeru would have loved every second of this.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

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