last flowers | rohan/reader

7。poppy

A/N: author's note at the beginning because it gets HOT AND HEAVY. Not really, but a lil bit. You've been warned, good luck reading this trash lol.

The detective-turned-amnesiac suddenly found herself with too much time on her hands, particularly during the extended periods that Rohan would go off somewhere in Morioh while she was napping or had locked himself into his workroom, sitting intently at the drawing board.

She took this time to read. Specifically, Rohan's manga— Pink Dark Boy. Rohan mused proudly that she would be the only other human being to touch the first prints of his collectors' edition, but that was a completely new language that she couldn't understand, nor did she want to.

The first volume clearly lived up to itself. Throughout each chapter she could pick up on the subtle differences in how he drew each character, whether it was one lock of hair raised half a centimeter higher or a scar that had begun to heal after an intense encounter with the horrors of the unknown.

"Ro—han! Your manga is incredible." He trudged indoors with plastic bags after disappearing for three hours, welcomed home by a hyperactive [name] that bounced across the foyer, scooping the grocery bags from his hands and dashing into the kitchen. She had more energy that he'd guessed after at least half of her memory was hidden away from herself.

"What chapter are you on? I personally believe the first twenty are a bit droll for my work, but some of my early fans seem to appreciate it, though." He followed her into the kitchen and sorted through what he'd purchased. Koichi had gone with him originally, but seemed to vanish after spotting Jotaro; mentioning something about going with him to start checking off tailoring services and clothing stores for the origin of the mystery killer's button.

"Oh. I'm on chapter thirteen... But, I think it's absolutely genius. I mean, really, I don't read manga much, but the line between hallucination and reality for the protagonist— it really made me question my own world, for a sec. You have a way with words and illustration."

Funny how that works... Rohan stopped mid-search for the rice crackers he bought earlier and watched [name] for a moment, ignoring her continued raving about the early work of his that he didn't even like, and frowned. She was unwillingly filling in the role of the protagonist; like his own creation, she was a bit overwhelming and had an honest heart, but her morals couldn't protect her from the inevitable horrors that would be inflicted upon her, without a second thought. He had control over her in fiction, and in reality.

"Rohan. Are you okay?" Rohan hadn't been paying much attention to what he'd been doing. He stood in front of his open refrigerator with a carton of milk in his left hand, and [name] grabbed onto his right with an unnecessary worried look on her face.

"I'm fine," He snapped quickly and set the milk down, "I was just thinking about what I should do for my next chapter." Rohan tore his hand away from her warm grip, an unexpected rejection to her little display of affection towards him. The woman pressed her lips together and let her arm fall back to her side.

"I was thinking... Did you still want to... um..."

"What? Go on and say it," He didn't focus on her flustered smirk, instead on the way she had haphazardly put his boxed food away instead of how he would always organize it, and sighed in irritation.

"Well, I was going to suggest that I— that I model that cute underwear for you— but you don't seem to be in a good mood right now."

"Go ahead and put it on, and wait for me in my workroom. I'll—" He turned around to make sure she left his presence as he instructed, but there [name] stood, dress in a heap on the floor. She rubbed her feet against each other anxiously waiting for Rohan to say something, anything, but he merely took in what he was given: an alluring woman of whom he partially destroyed the life of, bare skinned through and through, if he didn't include the overpriced panties. Her body was just as he'd thought it up in his mind, soft and supple with each curve in her muscle serving as an excuse for him to stare for longer than necessary, and still be captivated when he redrew it from memory.

"Should I put my clothes back on?"

"No. Stay like that. It's more realistic like this." He urged himself to rush past her and get a sketchbook from his workroom, but he couldn't see himself making it that far. He shot for the drawing pad he kept in his totebag for on-the-go moments he wanted to capture; the occasion didn't quite suit why he had the drawing pad in the first place, but he wanted to at least get the basic outline of her body and the unintentional look of temptation she wore on her face, making ditching his illustrative study of the female body all the more desirable.

Rohan's hands were shaking as he whipped out a kitchen chair and put pencil to paper. His foot tapped impatiently as her posture deteriorated and she fumbled with the straps of her bra in unease. She seemed to enjoy pretending that she was a demure, innocent girl, heat rising to her cheeks when she smirked in his direction. She leaned down to pull her dress away from her feet, moving so slowly that he easily took it as an invitation to toss his sketchbook aside and let his lustful appetite overpower his reasoning.

Rohan stood up with a strong sense of urgency and put one hand against her upper chest, coaxing her to walk backwards and hit the wall behind them. [name] felt the cold surface against her bare skin and shuddered. Goosebumps rose against her skin, and the male pressed his fingers into her waist roughly. When she pried his hand off of her flesh and brought it up to her cheek, the discoloration he'd left was stark in comparison. He'd already destroyed her mentally; now if he could ruin the rest of her, inside and out— It was as if she wanted him to do it.

"Well? Go on," The woman spoke in a sultry tone, a far cry from the pure act she'd put on before. She was mocking him, and he could feel it in her throaty laugh, when he dove into the crook of her neck and sucked in hard– he'd leave his signature all over, so that anyone who dared to glance in her direction would know that she belonged to him; mind, body, and soul. He was admittedly hungry for power, but it was only over her that he desired to exercise it.

She dug her fingernails into his back each time he curled his lips against her skin. Rohan flinched under her clawing and drew away to make eye contact. "Don't do that," He barked quickly, and she sheepishly retracted her hands.

"Sorry," [name] mumbled, and she dropped her arms back down against the wall in defeat. The artist felt a short stint of guilt and slapped a wet kiss against her lips, and a jolt of surprise ran through her spine and guided her to return the favor with a more affectionate peck. Rohan slammed himself into her hips with an accidental brush against his abdomen and she squeaked in shock again.

The woman wasn't sure what she was doing, and that'd been an understatement. Aside from the lengthy hours she had spent consuming romance-centered media, she had absolutely no experience. She was truly a tease who only knew her way around arousing someone with words. She rejected every advance of acquaintances and coworkers for... What? What was her job? She was drawing blanks that couldn't be answered while Rohan was having such an easy time making her womanhood tremble.

"Rohan,"

"Hm," He hummed against her collarbone, nipping at the sensitive beginning of her breasts. She wondered briefly if she should say anything at all, with the intoxicating feeling of Rohan on her body counteracting the sobering one of her lack of recollection.

"Rohan. Stop."

"What?" He seemed a bit irritated when he drew himself away. Rohan wiped his mouth off with his sleeve and resumed eye contact with her.

"I want to be with you. Lord, it kills me to even think about the fact that I stopped you... But this isn't right. My mind isn't... right." She shrunk under his gaze and watched his lips move slowly as he spoke to her.

"Can you elaborate?" He knew well enough just what she was talking about. He just didn't want her to catch on to that.

"I don't know— I don't think I can. I know I did the seducing, but... Can we hold off, for now? Take things slow?"

"Yeah," He hesitated, for a good while, looking her up and down. "Yeah, okay. I can restrain myself. Just don't go walking in here like that again, or I might change my mind."

"Heh, that's fair. I'll let you know when I'm ready for round two." [name] scooped her wadded up dress and slid it back on over her underwear with the confident nonchalance she had before.

"And you might want to find a scarf to cover up your, er, your neck."