───⋆ LOVE UNTOLD.

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER TWENTY: love me anyway

masterlist

The sheets beneath her stir as the first light of day seeps through the thin, worn curtains, casting an almost mournful glow across the room. The sun’s touch is gentle, but it’s a reminder of another morning, another routine she knows all too well.

This feels familiar. Too familiar.

She has lived this moment countless times—each one an echo of the last, a rhythm of anticipation and careful avoidance. She knows the weight of the silence, the delicate pause before she turns over. 

And when she does, she meets his eyes.

Those green eyes. 

They’re always the same. The way they linger on her, taking in every curve, every freckle, every scar that marks her—his gaze tracing the map of her body like it’s something sacred, something precious. She feels bare, exposed, but there’s a strange comfort in it, a quiet surrender. 

His hand, gentle, almost reverent, reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture is simple, yet it shakes her in a way she can’t quite explain. Her breath catches as if bracing for something she’s not quite ready to face, as if she knows, deep down, that whatever happens next will hurt. 

"Morning," he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of unspoken things.

She smiles, but it’s not the smile of someone who’s truly at peace. It’s the smile of someone who knows the cost of each word, of every touch.

“Morning.”

The sheets are pulled tighter against her bare skin, the softness a fragile comfort in the quiet, uncertain space between them.

For a fleeting moment, the room softens, bathed in the muted orange light of early morning. The world outside fades away—the ticking clock, the distant hum of life beyond the walls—all of it dissolves, leaving only them. Two people in one bed. Not quite lovers. Not quite strangers. Something undefined. Something fragile and yet impossibly real.

“I want to be with you, Yn,” his words break the stillness, and though they’re spoken with the sincerity of someone who has nothing left to hide, they land heavy between them.

The light in the room seems to dim, as if the weight of his confession has cast a shadow over everything. The ticking of the clock grows louder, more intrusive, and she feels the rhythm of time moving against her, as if reminding her that this moment—like all the others—will soon pass.

“I’m just… not ready, Megs,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart heavy with the truth of the words. She can feel the sting of them as they leave her mouth—words she never wanted to speak, yet always knew she would. 

He winces, like her words are a wound. The nickname hangs in the air between them, a reminder of all the things they’ve never said. It’s a name that feels too close to something they both fear. 

“We can take it slow,” he says, his voice almost desperate now, like a plea disguised as an offer. 

She doesn’t respond immediately. She opens her mouth, but the words don’t come. Her mind is spinning, caught between what she wants and what she knows she can’t have. Before she can find the clarity, she needs, the bedroom door swings open, and the familiar sound of footsteps interrupts the fragile moment.

“Woahhhh, clothes, please,” Nobara’s voice rings out, laced with her usual irreverence, as she strides into the room, her eyes already covering her face in mock horror as she heads straight for the closet.

“Nobara, it’s literally my room,” Yn mutters, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“Okay, damn, whatever happened to being civil,” Nobara replies, as if she couldn’t care less, already rummaging through the clothes in the closet.

Yn sighs, shaking her head, and despite herself, a reluctant smile plays at the corner of her lips. The moment between her and him slips away, as it always does, swallowed up by the noise, the chaos, the distractions of life. And in that silence, she’s left wondering if the real truth is the one she’s always too afraid to face.

"Oh breakfast is ready by the way," she says, as she finishes up with whatever she was fishing out the closet. She pauses for a moment and lets out a sigh, her eyes flicking toward the door. "I’m just... relieved you two worked it out. I can’t stand the thought of her going back to Sukuna again." She shoots them a smile before she shuts it behind her with a firm, deliberate click.

A thick, suffocating tension settles over the room, hanging in the air like smoke. The weight of unspoken words presses down on both of them, and suddenly, that familiar, uneasy feeling claws its way back—not just in her stomach this time, but in his as well. It coils in their chests, binding them together in an uncomfortable silence.

“What does she mean, again?” His voice is distant, almost hollow, as he stares at her. There’s a blankness in his eyes, but she can see the storm brewing beneath the surface.

She pauses, the words swirling in her mind, but they refuse to form. 

“You slept with your ex?” The question falls from his lips with an unsettling calmness, as though he’s already resigned to the pain it causes.

“...Well... yeah,” she admits, her fingers instinctively scratching the back of her neck. It’s a nervous gesture, one she wishes she could take back, but it’s too late now.

“We were never exactly... together,” she tries to explain, as if offering that detail might somehow make it less of a betrayal. 

But he doesn’t seem to care about the details. His face hardens, eyes narrowing as the words sink in. “But what happens when we are?” he demands, his voice tight with something between anger and hurt.

"What happens when it’s real?"

Her throat tightens, her heart pounding in her chest. She doesn’t have an answer. She’s never had an answer. 

He doesn’t wait for her to speak. The words come fast, like an accusation she’s too afraid to answer. “Are you gonna go back to him every time we argue?”

The question hits her like a blow, the weight of it settling deep in her bones. 

It hurts.

She’s always prided herself on being tough, on keeping the hard things from breaking her. But this—his voice, sharp and cold—cuts deeper than she’s ready for. It finds the cracks in her walls and tears them open. For the first time, she feels exposed. Vulnerable. And it makes her want to run, to flee from this moment before it can consume her.

She swallows, trying to steady herself. “And what about you?” she counters, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “What are you gonna do? Humiliate me in front of all your thousands of fans? Air out all our business for everyone to see?” 

Her words come out harsh, a bitter retaliation, but they feel like the only defence she has left. She’s trying to protect herself, trying to lash out before he can wound her any further.

But as soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes how pointless it all is. In the heat of the moment, they’ve both become something they never wanted to be—two people fighting, two people unravelling. And the deeper they dig in their heels, the further apart they’ll fall. 

She doesn’t know if either of them has the strength to put it all back together.

“That’s not the point, Yn.” His voice is low, edged with frustration, as he stands up from the bed. His movements are deliberate, almost stiff, as he gathers his clothes from the floor. Every motion is a careful retreat, a silent act of distancing himself from the words they both know are about to tear them apart.

Yn watches him, her chest tightening, her patience wearing thin. “Oh, then tell me, Megumi. What’s the point?” Her tone is laced with venom now, each word dripping with sarcasm as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Go on, I’m waiting. Enlighten me.”

He stumbles slightly as he tries to pull his pants back on, his fingers trembling just enough to betray the calm exterior he’s trying to hold on to. When he finally turns to face her, his eyes are hard, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability beneath the anger—an ache he can’t mask.

“It’s the fact that you keep doing the same shit over and over again,” he says, his voice thick with frustration. He rubs his temples with his right hand, fingers digging into his skin as if trying to erase the pain building inside him. “It’s like I’m invisible until it’s convenient for you.”

Yn feels the sting of his words, but it’s not enough to make her back down. She’s already out of bed, a shirt hastily thrown over her, unsure if it’s her own or his. It doesn’t matter. She could be wearing nothing at all, and it wouldn’t change the suffocating weight of this conversation.

“Megumi, what the fuck are you even saying?” Her voice wavers between anger and hurt, each word a shard of glass she’s trying to throw back at him. “Last night, you said you’d wait forever if that’s what it took. And now? Now you’ve ‘slept on it,’ and suddenly you’ve had some sort of fucking epiphany? Everything’s changed?” She scoffs bitterly, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

He flinches, but he doesn’t back down. “No. What’s unbelievable is you thinking that leading me on is just some checkbox to tick off in your mind,” he says, his voice rough. “Like I’m some fucking game you can pick up and put down when it suits you.”

The accusation hangs in the air, thick with all the things they’ve both left unsaid. The silence between them pulses with tension, the weight of their words pulling them further apart. 

“Just because we do relationship things doesn’t mean we’re actually in a relationship, Megumi,” she snaps, her voice low but sharp, her hands clenched at her sides. The words feel empty as soon as they leave her mouth, but she forces herself to stand tall, even as her heart cracks.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. “And that’s your problem, Yn. You won’t let it be real. You won’t put a label on it because you’re scared. You’re terrified of what happens when it actually matters.”

She feels the sting of his words like a slap, but her pride won’t let her show it. “I’m scared?” She laughs bitterly, a hollow sound that rings out in the silence of the room. “Who’s the one practically begging for a relationship in my fucking bedroom right now?”

The moment stretches out, heavy and charged with everything they’ve both kept inside. For the first time, Megumi is silent. His mouth moves, but no words come. They stand there, across the bed from each other, like two people lost in a storm, too proud to admit they’re both drowning.

Then, finally, he sighs—a long, weary sound that seems to carry all the weight of last night. 

“If I told you I loved you right now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “would you say the same?”

Yn’s heart stops for a beat, and for a moment, she can’t breathe. The question hangs in the air, as fragile and raw as anything either of them has ever said. Her chest tightens, and her throat constricts, but the words she needs to say—want to say—don’t come. She opens her mouth, but nothing escapes. The silence between them stretches, unbearable and all-encompassing.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he mutters, his eyes downcast as he collects the last of his things. The finality in his movements feels like a wall being built, the space between them suddenly too wide to bridge.

And then, without another word, he walks out. The sound of his footstep’s fades, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of a conversation that was never meant to be this way.

Yn stands in the quiet aftermath, her body frozen, her mind racing. The weight of his words lingers in the stillness, thick and suffocating. She wants to scream, wants to ask him to come back, to say it wasn’t real, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

But the room feels emptier now. And the silence between them feels like a wound that neither of them knows how to heal.

In the end, there are no answers. Only unanswered questions and heart breaking in ways she doesn’t know how to fix.

Make that two.

—

“Oh my god… so he actually put the condoms on the register right in front of you?” The blue-haired girl laughed, nearly tipping out of her chair from how hard she was giggling.

“Yeah… haha,” Yn replied, the laughter sounding forced, hollow in her ears. She hoped Miwa didn’t notice the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes, or how the pit in her stomach seemed to deepen with every passing second. The tension was unbearable. 

Miwa, still oblivious, laughed louder, her carefree amusement filling the space between them. She had no idea that Yn was carrying something far heavier than a simple awkward moment. That she hadn’t told her about the morning after. 

The words were still so vivid in Yn’s mind, like a photograph she couldn’t look away from:

“If I told you I love you, would you say the same?”

They kept playing on a loop, unbidden, repeating with an intensity that only seemed to grow with time. Each time they hit; it was like a small shard of glass piercing her heart all over again. 

The sound of Miwa’s laughter slowly faded as she caught her breath, the moment stretching long and tense. Yn could feel her pulse in her ears, the weight of her regret thickening the air around her.

The song she’d been playing on air was ending, and before Miwa could notice the change in her, Yn hit the controls in front of her, quickly unmuting the mic, almost mechanically.

“And that was Crush by Ethel Cain, up next is Love Me Anyway by Chappell Roan!” she announced, her voice smooth despite the storm brewing inside her.

The opening notes of the song filled the air, but the lyrics hit her harder than any sound could.

As the first notes of the new song filtered through the speakers, Yn could feel each word like an arrow lodged in her chest. The lyrics, so raw, so painfully accurate, seemed to speak to her very soul.

“Sometimes I forget, wasn’t always this way…”

“It’s hard to admit, I was the one to blame…”

She wanted to turn the song off, and shut it out, but she couldn’t. The truth was unbearable, but it was also undeniable. She knew what she’d done. She knew how much it had cost her. Megumi had loved her. Not in some fleeting, casual way, but in a way that she had never experienced before. He had been real with her. Vulnerable. And she had let him go. 

The weight of that mistake pressed on her like a physical force. Her chest tightened, the pain so raw, so real, it felt like she might choke on it. She could have fought for him. She could have tried harder. But instead, she’d walked away, choosing fear over something real.

The thought felt like a physical blow, one that stole her breath for a moment, leaving her feeling hollow and ashamed. She had let him slip through her fingers, let him walk away because she wasn’t brave enough to let herself love him the way he had loved her.

She hadn’t just lost him. She’d lost her chance at something that could have been everything. And now, all she could do was replay the moment, over and over, until it felt like she might break under the weight of it.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, the word tasting bitter in her mouth. 

I fucked up. I fucked up so badly.

backstage!

• megumi definitely has something undiagnosed about him….

• bpd??? autism?? ocd??? speculate your theories in the comments NOW

• oomf said 500 days of summer coded and i RAN with it

• the party girls def heard them from the kitchen and they were just silently staring at eachother while ynmegumi were arguing LMFAOOO

• when they heard yn’s door open they quickly became occupied with something else hashtag awkies

• megumi got back home mad as hell

• no he did not punch the walls.

• he instead turned on ribs in the fetal position on his bed and listened to it on loop for 3 hours (tzc☃️)

• yuji was on tiktok live and u could just hear it in the background very faintly

• yk i had forgetting about the whole maneater station until a certain oomf starting with r and ending in ee rhymes with pee commented about it.

• Thank You Ree💕💝💘💗💖💞

• i missed miwayn hours BAD

a/n: i don’t know which was worse. writing this or the after effects of consuming expired laxatives. maybe both… HAPPY SJAP WEEKEND! sorry it’s a bit later than usual but we ball. sunday AND monday posts coming still🙂‍↕️ im not bailing on you guys again. i’ve been drained af. and i think im getting sick again. and i have to be up in 4 hours. everyone comment hashtag grateful so i can wake up and not want to kill myself❤️

taglist: @shokosbunny @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm @syxoki

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

U UP? - SATORU GOJO

you’ve got a big problem. and that problem has the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen.

wc: 1.2k

satoru (derogatory): hey :p

you’re bored, truthfully. it’s a bad saturday night— all of your friends drowning with work, or babies, or friends who don’t like you, or anything you could imagine. that’s the only reason you respond, you tell yourself, but deep down you know you would’ve even if you were at the bar.

grown ass man btw

satoru (derogatory): well that’s just not nice at all now is it

it’s not an easy feat to know gojo. your relationship is, for lack of better word, complicated. he texts you after dates to tell you how miserable (or amazing) it was, you fall asleep in his bed with his hand tracing stars into your arm, he plays the ‘have you met ted?’ game with you whenever he sees a man who might tickle your fancy in public, you pick him up his favorite snacks days before you’re assured you’re going to see him, he writes notes and leaves them tucked into your purse every time you hang out.

he’s an enigma, you think. and a damn bastard too— especially every time you’re alone in the confines of his room and he shows you those big, bright, deadly eyes.

what do you want .

your fingers tap over the volume button on your phone, lip tugged between your teeth as you wait in the index of your messages, staring at his typing bubble from outside the chat.

satoru (derogatory): movie night? game night? yap night? come over we miss each other >:)

you should maybe just kill yourself at this point. yeah, you’re fucked. absolutely, positively fucked.

who says i have ever missed you a day in my life

satoru (derogatory): quit being so mean!! i want to see my queen 🙇‍♂️

you’re kidding yourself because the second he texted you you’d looked through your camera roll to find which outfit you’d change into before you came over. you’re kidding yourself because the second he asked you to come over, you were jumping for your eyeliner and mascara.

this is fucked up.

yeah ok On my way!

satoru (derogatory): ew just say omw you freak

it’s not hard to find your way to satoru. it’s like you have something inside you that guides you to him— so it makes sense that it took you all of two times to memorize the twenty six minute drive to his house. your body settles as you walk through his complex, you melt into yourself when you get the familiar smell of him through the crack of his door.

you’re met with blue. fuck. and plaid pajama pants and a loose gray shirt. double fuck. this is obscene and you are no better than all of the other girls in the satoru gojo fan club.

“hi, pretty lady.”

“hello, satoru.” short and sweet. plain and simple.

“that’s all i get? harsh,” he laughs, bumping his shoulder into your own, lightly putting his hand over the small of your back as he guides you to his room as if you don’t know where it is.

it smells like him. a little off, a little dior, a little manly, the smallest bit like laundry. it’s so raw and real you think you’d open your veins and fill them with it.

“did you want a desperate love confession?” he scrunches his face up, easy grin on his face.

“well that would be lovely.”

it’s ritualistic. no matter what you say you’re going to do, what plans either of you have for the night, within the first two minutes you end up with your back against his chest and one of his hands on your thigh and the other around your waist. you think he’s insane.

he goes on and on, telling you about his day and boring you with all the small little details, and you wonder if you might be in love. you figure, begrudgingly, that you are.

“hey, you good? zoning out there.” he waves a hand over your face, you can’t help but notice how little callouses he has.

“what are we doing?” the worst question a woman could ever ask comes out before you can think twice. oh, so you’re really just a fucking idiot then.

“hm?” he pauses, puts his hand back down to your hip, and looks up at the ceiling before back to your face.

“well,” it’s a drawl, his usual exuberant and over the top tone teasing at you. “me personally, i’m just hanging out with my favorite person ever.”

that’s not good enough for you though. that wouldn’t be good enough for anyone, you feel, if they happened to be in love with the so-called honored one. but beyond that, that wouldn’t be enough for anyone who got to genuinely spend ten minutes alone with satoru.

“okay.” it seems that’s all you can muster. and it seems, he picked up on that.

“and,” he sighs, head dipping down to press a kiss to your eyebrow. “i’m spending time with the only person who ever makes me feel content anymore.”

fuck.

“the only person i’d ever let in my room— you know how much i love my room.” you huff a smile, but you think if you made a quick jab at him your voice would fail you.

“the only person who knows exactly what to order me— because no matter how much i say i like zunda, you know fresh cream is actually my favorite kikufuku.”

you’re completely, utterly fucked.

“the only person who dares be as insanely and completely mean to me as you are.”

“satoru,”

“the only person i think actually makes me feel like i am a worthwhile person.” and that hits. that hits hard, like nothing has ever hit you before.

“satoru.” its got a softness to it— the way you say his name. none of that sharp edge or desperate pining like there normally is. just pure, unequivocal kindness.

“what are you doing?” your name sounds like a prayer from him. before you can even think, he continues. “what are you doing with me?”

it takes awhile for you to say something. you can tell by the way he taps your hipbone, satoru gojo is nervous. he hides it well, though, eyes looking down at you, smug grin strapped to his face as if he knows what you’re gonna say. and maybe he does. maybe everyone in the whole world knows what’s about to leave your mouth.

but still, he is nervous. you realize, right now, you have his itty bitty heart in your hands and you think you could just lift it to your mouth and take the biggest bite.

“i think i love you.”

“how rude,” he huffs, fingers gripping into your skin, and he is beaming. “i know i love you. show a little certainty why don’t you?”

“oh.” you don’t seem to be very good with words right now. you think you may even be making a fool of yourself. but you don’t care. satoru gojo— mister six eyes, the strongest, the honored one, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, the light of your life— just told you he loves you. and what can you really say to that?

“me, too.” well that was stupid.

“i know, pretty girl.” it’s a reprise from earlier, but there’s a new weight to his words. you want to kiss him. you want to kiss him always, you want to kiss him bad, you want to kiss him now.

but before you can, he leans down and dusts the bridge of your nose with the softest touch of his lips you could’ve ever imagined.

“we’re doing whatever you want. just take your time, okay?”

thank fucking god your friends were busy.

the boyfriendification of ran haitani

a/n: 18+!!!! nsfw!!! this is exactly what it sounds like. i've been trying to write this for DAYS and HERE SHE IS tbh i could've gone on forever ran has moved into my brain and is living completely rent free please somebody get him OUT of there!!!

content: alcohol / drinking, smoking, fingering, nipple play, spanking, sex!!, maybe a little bit of misogyny? kinda?? some of the boys sanzu talk about girls a little crazy oy

word count: 7,114

it wasn’t the first time you’d been to octagon. your friends had dragged you to the fancy, new nightclub downtown for its opening weekend and had fallen in love with the gaudy atmosphere. they had gotten into the habit of splurging on a night out there whenever one of you was in need of a pick-me-up. a pick-me-up in the form of a lux night surrounded by rich assholes, bottle service, and flashing lights, of course. so no, it wasn't your first time at octagon, but it was, however, the first time you’d been bent over the counter top in its single stall bathroom while a gorgeous stranger took you from behind. definitely a first.

from the moment he'd locked eyes with you from his table across the dance floor, you wanted him. you had found him incredibly handsome, especially compared to the usual slimeballs that frequented the place. it wasn't a secret that most men went to octagon with the hope of their private table and bottle upon bottle of top shelf liquor being enough to win the attention and company of beautiful women, regardless of how old or gross they were themselves.

ran haitani was neither old nor gross. he seemed to be in his late twenties, tall and slim, with a cigarette danging from his lips. he held himself in a way that said i know i'm better than everyone here and it is fucking hilarious. he had an amused look on his sharp, angular face that never seemed to shake. he watched you with calculating eyes, as if deciding if you were worth the chase. and you were enough shots into the night that you decided to flirt and wink back at him, shaking your ass in his direction for just a moment before turning back to your friends to tease him. when two enormous hands firmly gripped your waist, you knew it was him. you allowed him to run his greedy hands up and down your sides, arousal beginning to pool in your panties as he danced closer to you. as you arched your back, you were met with the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your ass while those massive hands pulled you flush against him. the size of him nearly made your mouth water. it wasn’t much longer before his whiskey scented breath was hot at your cheek, a sensual rumble of a voice tickling your ear, “can we go somewhere to be alone?”

next thing you knew, you were locked in the bathroom, stuffed full of this man’s veiny length. one of his hands had tightened around your throat. the other came down onto your ass cheek with a sharp slap every so often, making you yelp. you could barely hear your own cries of pleasure over the booming bass of the dance music just outside the door. ran was pounding into you at a pace that made your legs wobble. thankfully, he had you pressed against the counter with a hand gripping your hip for support. the hand around your neck released to take a fist full of your hair and drag you up against his chest. “you’re so fucking tight,” he growls in your ear. “how’d i get this lucky? didn’t even wanna go out tonight but here i am with this tight fucking pussy squeezing the shit out of my dick.” you can’t take your eyes off the pornographic scene taking place in the mirror in front of you as he continues thrusting up into you.

ran is watching too, and he's desperate to see more of you. he uses his free hand to hike your dress up even higher until it’s bunched up at your stomach. you're completely exposed, tits bouncing freely, soiled panties pushed aside to make way for the intrusion into your slick heat. his size is making it impossible to stay quiet. you’re moaning and whimpering with every thrust as the head of his thick cock bruises your cervix. the pain and pleasure have become one and between that and the alcohol you’re feeling like you’re floating.

the way you’re wrapped so tightly around him, pussy swallowing him up completely and dragging him back in each time he pulls almost all the way out of you, ran can't get enough. he’s watching you hungrily as your mouth hangs open, a constant string of curse words and cries streaming out. his eyes lock onto the place where he’s disappearing inside you, the place dripping with your arousal and making a mess all down your thighs and onto his dark pants.

"tell me how good you feel, baby," his face is next to yours, talking to your reflection in the mirror. "s-so good," you sputter. sweat and tears have ruined your makeup and you look absolutely wrecked. it's fuckin beautiful, ran thinks. "lemme hear youuu," he whines, grin only growing. "come onnn. tell me you love this." "i love it, i really love it, fuck." it's not a lie, either. you can't remember ever being fucked like this in your entire life. he's hitting deeper than any guy you've ever been with, and with a girth that's stretching you to the point of almost being painful. but you love it, you really do.

you watch in silent desperation as one of his hands starts to snake down your thigh, long fingers beginning to circle your clit. the added stimulation has you screaming, orgasm approaching like a bullet train. "scream my fuckin name," he orders, teasing voice taking on just a hint of sternness. "ran."

you did as you were told, repeating his name over and over, louder and louder, drowning out the sound of his balls slapping against you, nearly matching the volume of the music outside. "that's right," he laughs, fingers speeding up as he feels your walls tense around him. "cum on this cock, gorgeous. let me hear you." you do, hard, eyes practically rolling back in your head. you cry out his name just as he had told you to, a few swears following as his hands grab onto your waist and starts forcing your hips down to meet his thrusts. he's groaning now, the way your orgasm has you fluttering around him bringing on his own orgasm. you feel the heat as he fills the condom deep inside you, arms caging you in as he grips the counter for support. he bucks his hips up a couple more times– both of you making desperate sounds at the overstimulation– and pulls out. he trashes the condom and tucks himself back into his boxers.

your knees threaten to buckle under you so you turn quickly to lean back against the counter for support. he laughs, leaning close to kiss you for what feels like the very first time that night. it's sloppy and a little rough, tasting like whiskey and cigarettes, but for some reason it exhilarates you. he pulls away and cocks his head to one side.

"what's your name, pretty little thing?"

you tell him and he grins, repeating it back to you slowly, savoring each sound. "you have got the absolute tightest, juiciest pussy i've ever put my dick in."

you wince a bit at his lewd words and how casually he's said them. you mumble a slightly sarcastic thanks and start to adjust your clothes, pulling the straps of your dress back over your shoulders, tugging the hem down to where it belongs. he watches you with amusement, that same smirk still on his lips. you wet a paper towel and lean in close to the mirror to try and wipe away your smudged makeup. when you turn back to ran you see him slipping your phone into your purse.

"hey!" you startle him but he just as quickly regains his usual expression. "what are you–"

"i'd really like to do this again," he cuts you off, checking something on his own phone with a satisfied smile. "pleasure meeting you." he tips your head up and kisses you once. you watch in stunned silence as he unlocks the bathroom door and exits. you catch a glimpse of a line that has formed just outside.

"oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me," a voice groans seeing ran exit.

"someone sounds jealous!" a laugh follows ran's words.

when the door shuts again, you lock it quickly and pull your phone from your bag to see what he'd done. your screen lights up revealing that he had sent a text, presumably to himself. the message simply reads, "best fuck i've ever had"

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despite sending it to himself, it's weeks before ran uses your number. you had almost started to believe he would never actually text. which wasn't the worst thing in the world. sure, it had actually been the best fuck of your life, but you had decided that fucking strangers wasn't something you were into anymore. shortly after you'd met ran, you'd hooked up with a friend of a friend after a night out, and it had been one of the least sexy encounters you'd ever had. and then, a few weeks after that, sex with a guy from a dating app had ended with him crying on top of you, realizing he wasn't over his ex. yeah, hooking up with strangers was proving to be a dead end.

you were confident in your decision to stay away from all that. even when a text came through from an unsaved number, the only other message ever exchanged with it being best fuck i've ever had. ran.

remember me? :)

you stare at the message for a few seconds and locked your phone. you had just sat down in the corner of your favorite cafe with a latte and your laptop to get some work done and you weren't going to let mr. best fuck i've ever had derail your productive morning.

ignoring me? my feelings are hurt!

the message alarms you just a little. but before you can wonder how he knew you were ignoring him intentionally, you receive another text.

mind if i join you?

you look up as a looming presence arrives at the seat across from you. it's ran, looking just as you remember, maybe even more handsome than in your memory, now that you were looking at him with sober eyes. "so?" he smirks, quirking an eyebrow. you nod, motioning politely to the chair and he sits.

he's wearing a suit, or half of one. he's got on a crisp white button down and slacks with the jacket slung over his arm. the clothes fit him perfectly, every stitch and fold falling just where it should as if they were tailored just for him. which they probably were. over the collar of his shirt peeks the top of a tattoo that adorns his throat. you wonder why you hadn't noticed it back at the club. it was pretty hard to focus on anything other than his cock. you banish the thought from your mind. that was behind you. with his polished appearance, his hidden tattoos, and knowing smile, ran exudes an overwhelming aura of power and wealth. it's a bit intimidating.

"fuck, do i feel lucky to have run into you," he settles back in his chair, eyeing you mischievously. "what are you working on?" you notice his gaze on your laptop. "emails," you say simply, stupidly. he's hard to have a conversation with, you can't stop thinking about that word: intimidating.

"nothing urgent, i hope?" he sips his coffee, deep violet eyes flickering, hinting that there was more to the question.

you just stare back at him, waiting for it. "if you're free, why don't you come back to my place? it's really close to here."

"i'm not free," you reply evenly. "i told you, i'm working."

"oh, come on," he rolls his eyes petulantly. "you'd rather send emails than come with me and get the best dick of your life again?" you look away from him and open your computer, "sorry, i'm not interested."

he shuts your laptop with one large hand, leaning across the table toward you, "i don't believe you." his tone is still pleasant and lighthearted as it seems to always be, but he's clearly not used to hearing an answer that isn't yes. "you were begging for me at the club. don't you remember?"

"i do but–" you open your computer again and he shuts it abruptly. "i'm really not like that."

“like what?" his tone is changing, it's patronizing, belittling, an attempt to coax a yes out of you. "a horny little slut telling me how much she loved getting her tight fuckin hole filled in the bathroom of that club?”

"you got lucky," you bite back. "we're not in a club, now. i'm not fucked up, and i'm not just hooking up with you because you look good in a suit."

"you think i look good?" his smile grows, mocking.

“whatever, ran," you start to collect your things, suddenly frustrated. he'd shown up and interrupted your day, expecting you to just drop everything to go fuck him. not this time. "think what you want, but if you're really trying to fill this tight little hole again, it definitely won’t be like this.” you turn to walk away leaving him completely stunned and surprisingly aroused...

you're just starting down the sidewalk outside when the bell on the cafe's door chimes again behind you. ran's hand circles your wrist and pulls you to a stop abruptly. he turns you toward him.

"fine," his jaw is tight. "i'll play along. what do you want me to do? get you fuckin flowers or some shit?"

it's your turn to feel smug. as powerful as he seemed, as he carried himself to appear, there had clearly been a shift in the dynamic. the subtle annoyance you'd caused in the world's most easygoing man was thrilling. you felt like the ball was suddenly in your court.

"let’s get dinner."

"buy me dinner first," he mocks, putting on a high pitched voice.

"you’re the one begging to fuck me," you remind him sharply.

he quiets. “fine."

you're shocked he's agreed but try not to show it on your face.

"8?" he continues. "i’ll pick you up."

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the sight outside your apartment stuns you into silence. ran, dressed in a dress shirt and slacks, the shirt looser and more stylish than the one he'd had on at the coffee shop, smoking a cigarette leaned against the hood of his car. with the first few buttons of his shirt undone you can see his tattoo clearly. just below his collarbone are a few dark swirls of ink, telling you there are more tattoos on his chest. you briefly wonder what they look like, what they mean.

he flicks his cigarette butt into the gutter before his eyes come to rest on you as you approach. the corner of his mouth curls up in a grin but he says nothing. "i didn't expect you to drive a batmobile," you say simply, gesturing to the sleek black car. ran laughs, loose and genuine. the sound somehow calms your nerves. "it's a bugatti. batmobile prob'ly woulda been cheaper, though." you laugh, surprised at his humor. but much to your disappointment, the car ride that follows is relatively silent.

the restaurant ran has chosen is a steakhouse, one of the finest in the city you learn from a quick google search as you exit the car. he hands the keys to the valet and you can barely make out a whispered threat of what he'll do if anything happens to his precious car. you watch a wave of fear wash over the young man as ran claps him on the back dismissively. "you scared him," you frown. "good," ran says casually. "that car costs more than he'll make in his entire life." you call him a number of mean names in your head. great date so far.

ran gives his name at the front, the host looking just as fear stricken as the valet as he leads the two of you to a table in a bustling VIP room. you sit down, eyes flitting from table to table, observing the other kinds of people with the same reservation privileges as ran. older men and women in expensive suits and cocktail dresses laughing and drinking wine, middle aged business men celebrating closed deals, and a handful of other couples enjoying each other on dates. "i hope you eat meat," ran smiles briefly.

the rest of the night passes with no more than 20 words exchanged between you. your displeasure is growing with each time ran checks his watch or rolls his eyes at you. as your plates are cleared, ran refills both your glasses of wine. you've convinced yourself you're calling a taxi home after this glass. you'd enjoy an expensive meal paid for by this mysterious, exorbitantly rich man and leave with your dignity in tact. you weren't going home with him, not after this pitiful attempt at a date.

"somethin wrong?" he asks with a patronizing tilt of his head.

"no," you lean in. "just wondering why you're choosing to be so insufferable."

ran's eyes narrow the slightest bit, "what ever could you mean, darlin?"

"you're acting like a child. i get that getting to know someone before fucking them is a brand new concept to you, but it's what we agreed on–"

"i agreed to dinner," he corrects, raising his glass to his lips. you want to reach across the table and slap the grin from his face.

"right, a dinner so i could get to know you," you're speaking through gritted teeth. "that was my only request, because i don't want to fuck a stranger–"

"honey, you already fucked a stranger and, if i remember correctly, you fucking loved it."

you blink back at him making a move to grab your purse.

"aww, come on," he chuckles. the sound feels like a punch to the gut.

his hand closes around yours on the table, his grip almost too tight. you look up at him, ready to protest, when you see that his eyes are dark, warning you not to leave. "i'm sorry. really. put down your bag."

for the first time all night there's not a hint of teasing in his voice. the sudden authenticity startles you enough to keep you in your seat. your eyes can't seem to unglue themselves from his. you feel your hand release your clutch, shoulders relaxing. the remaining shred of control you'd felt earlier in the day was completely overwhelmed by his commanding gaze. the tone of the evening had shifted.

"what do you want to know about me?" he asks, his usual smile back on his lips. his hand is still holding yours, thumb stroking over the back delicately.

there are a million things you want to know, each question seeming more important than the one before it as they bubble in your brain. you decide on something simple.

"what's your last name?"

his smile widens, "good question, baby. haitani."

"and what do you do?"

instead of answering, he takes out his phone and unlocks it. he hands it over to you on a new internet tab, "google me."

you hesitate but he seems insistent. ran haitani. search.

the first thing to come up are pictures of him. paparazzi shots, professional headshots, press photos at company events, something resembling a mugshot.

under the pictures are a list of links to articles mentioning his name. you gulp, trying to conceal your reaction to the headlines, and probably doing a terrible job of it.

"bonten inc. executive ran haitani could face criminal charges"

"ran haitani: genius business mogul or nefarious mob boss?"

"police commissioner assures no links found between bonten inc. and citywide gang activity following investigation"

"haitani brothers acquitted of charges following month long trial"

your mind had chosen to analyze the new information quite calmly. he was an executive of a huge company. that explained the money, the clothes, the attitude. gang activity. criminal charges. mob boss. you remembered the look of terror in the faces of the valet and the restaurant host. now that you thought about it, you had even seen it from other patrons when they risked a peek over to your table.

blame it on being naive, but for some reason, you didn't feel afraid of him. you pass his phone back wordlessly, noticing how carefully he was watching your face for some kind of reaction. "learn anything good?" he asks, sliding the phone back into his pocket.

you nod, "you have a brother."

his brows draw together for a moment, scrutinizing your expressionless face. you barely last another moment before you both burst out laughing. ran isn't sure why your reaction has him feeling so delighted, but it does. googling his name had been meant as a mean trick, a surefire way to terrify you and run you out of the restaurant. so for you to react with a joke of your own... had he met his match? he feels his cock twitch in his tight pants.

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once all ran's cards are on the table, the whole night inexplicably shifts. you stay there much longer with him, actually talking, finishing the expensive bottle of wine he'd gotten together. a newfound passion seems to overtake ran as he tells you more about what he does (in slightly vague terms, for obvious reasons). even more surprising is how the things you tell him fascinate him, your world being so starkly different from his. it's intoxicating, the way you light up as you speak, hands gesturing and eyes sparkling. he thinks it's perfect that you work for a non-profit– something to do with helping kids in need– because after these few hours of being in your presence, he knows he'd donate millions if you asked.

"we should probably get going...?" you mumble when you notice that most of the diners have disappeared. ran feels a pang of disappointment, realizing the night may be nearing its end. what you see, though, is a casual smile and a nod as he stands up and offers you his arm. clinging to him, you let him lead you out of the restaurant. as you stand beside him waiting for the valet to get his car, he wraps his hand around yours wordlessly. the gesture is so small, so sweet, you wonder if he had even done it intentionally. nonetheless, you feel giddy, however out of character it was for him.

"how'd i do?" he asks quietly. you're not sure what to make of the question. "how was tonight?"

you try to hold back your smug smile. "well, you definitely don't feel like such a stranger anymore." he laughs, a soft exhale. you squeeze his hand to get him to look at you. "aren't you going to invite me back to your place?"

he gives in to the urge to kiss you, large hands cupping your cheeks, holding you in place as he bends to press his lips to yours. "you're a fuckin tease," he mumbles against your lips, making you giggle. "shut up and take me home," you smirk. the car pulls up and ran is feeling triumphant. he slaps a hundred dollar bill into the valet's hand, "thanks, man. g'night." the guy looks shocked to be receiving such a large bill, especially from someone who had threatened to gouge his eyes out with car keys just hours earlier.

"that was very generous," you note, once you're both inside the cavernous vehicle. "i'm in a good mood," he shrugs, smiling out at the road. the car zooms out of the parking lot with a roar, ran driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.

as you pull through the guard gate and descend down the winding tunnel to the underground parking lot of ran's place, you start to giggle. ran glances over at you as you try to contain yourself. he gives your thigh a squeeze, "what's so funny?" you shake your head dismissively. pulling into his parking spot, he cuts the engine and turns to face you. another devilish giggle slips out and you know you have to spill.

sheepishly, you place your hand over his on your leg, tracing nervous circles onto the back of it. "fuck me here. in the batmobile."

"shit," ran snorts out a laugh, already pulling you over the center console and onto his lap. "whatever you say, baby."

as soon as you're straddling his hips, he slides the hem of your dress up your thighs, letting it bunch up at your hips and reveal your lacy black panties. "pretty," he grins, knuckles running over your clothed slit. "d'ya wear these just for me? pictured me taking em off you?" you whimper, already turned on by his feather-light touches and teasing words. as you fumble with ran's belt, his massive hands have each one of your tits in their grip, squeezing hard. "fuck," he breathes, finding the zipper at the nape of your neck and tugging it down. you slide your arms out of the straps so that ran can peel the bodice down toward your stomach, revealing your tits to him in their lacy confines. "look at these!" he sounds overjoyed, giving them another squeeze. he pulls the cups of your bra down at the same time. he meets your eyes before giving each of your nipples a firm pinch. you whimper, eyebrows furrowing. "aww, sensitive, huh?" he fakes sympathy, pinching again, harder. he rolls the hardening buds between his thumbs and forefingers, "i feel fucking cheated. i didn't get to play with these gorgeous tits last time. what do you have to say for yourself, hmm?"

you moan as his lips wrap around one nipple, fingers twisting and rubbing the other. "s-sorry," you whine. "sorry's fuckin right," he says, mouth full of your breast. as he releases it with a wet pop to move to the other side, his hand comes up between your parted legs. as he suckles at your nipples, fingertips nudge themselves under the fabric of your underwear. "please. touch me." in response he presses his slender middle finger into your already dripping hole. a second finger follows closely after. his thumb presses down firmly on your clit, running over it slickly using the arousal that's leaking around his fingers and pooling into his palm. "you're fuckin filthy," ran's tone makes it sound like something between a praise and an insult. "listen to how wet you are already. you just love havin somethin fuckin in and outta this little cunt, huh?" you nod desperately, burying your face in his neck as the squelching sounds of his fingers in your pussy fill the car.

a sharp slap comes down on your ass cheek and knocks the wind out of you. "take my cock out, baby. want you to see how fuckin hard i am feelin you leakin all over my fuckin hand." you had almost forgotten you'd started to unbutton his pants, before he'd shoved his fingers into you, that is. he spanks you again and you yelp, "too hard!" he chuckles darkly, but still presses a kiss to your temple and mumbles out a "sorry, baby." you finally get his fly down and he lifts his hips to help you tug his pants and boxers down to his thighs. his cock stands upright, angry red tip resting against the firm muscles of his stomach. because he'd taken you from behind in the club, you hadn't actually gotten a good look at his member. the size of it was shocking. "it fit?" you ask in disbelief. he strokes your cheek, smiling at you with amusement, "'course it did. you were such a good girl for me. gonna be a good girl again?"

you respond by lifting your hips and positioning yourself over his length. your hands grip his shoulders for support. he holds your waist in one hand and the base of his cock in the other. he runs the tip between your lips a few times, your arousal coating the head and running down his shaft. finally, he pulls you down, tip pushing inside your clenching hole. the stretch is a million times more intense when you're on top, you decide. as ran sheaths himself inside you in one swift motion, you feel as if the air has been stolen from your lungs.

before you've caught your breath, he's lifting you back up and slamming you down again. you can't help the yells, whimpers, and moans that fill the tiny space around you two. you drop your head to his shoulder as he thrusts his hips up into you. he takes your tits into his mouth again, "fuckin obsessed with your body. you feel so good, baby." something possesses you to say it back, "fuckin obsessed with your cock." the words send him into a frenzy. his hips speed up, the sound of skin on skin getting louder and more frequent as he pistons into your hole. you cling to him, fingernails leaving crescent shapes where they've dug into his skin.

ran pants an order, "touch yourself. wanna feel you cum on my cock." your fingers rub around your clit, bringing you even closer to the edge. "fuck, ran," you whimper, all the sensations becoming too much. "louder." "ran! fuck, oh my god, ran!"

you see stars as your high hits like a freight train. you're barely aware of how tightly your walls have clenched around ran, how they've drawn out his release, milking him of every last drop. he makes no move to pull out, simply lets himself soften while buried deep within your cunt. but you wiggle your hips, too sensitive to have him there much longer. "tsk," he shakes his head in fake disappointment and lifts you off of him. he keeps you in his lap, though, wrapped up in his long arms. he reaches into the back seat, grabbing the suit jacket he'd had on earlier in the day. you almost blush as he drapes it over your shoulders. you kiss him in thanks. the kiss turns into a few more kisses and soon you're straddling him again, looking into his face.

"was it really so bad?" you ask, teasing. "going on a date?" he lets his head loll back as your lips leave a trail of kisses from his collarbone up to his jaw. "not bad with you," he turns his head and catches your lips with his. he grips your ass in his hands to pull you closer. "and not after this." "worth it, right?" you giggle against his mouth. "i might even consider doing it again." your tiny gasp makes him laugh. "yeah, yeah," he chuckles. "whatever." cradling his face in your hands, you smile devilishly. "if you agree to another date, maybe we can go upstairs and do this again," you whisper in his ear. "fuck. deal."

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"alright," sanzu calls attention to himself, a bit too loudly as usual, as he walks into the room. "strip club. on west 44th street. i bought it."

"you said you would and you did," koko nods, impressed. "good for you."

"thank you!" the pink haired man points at his colleague triumphantly. "we're celebrating the new ownership tonight, and i want you all there. got it?" the other bonten execs agree, nodding or chiming in from around the room.

"ra-a-an," sanzu sing songs, noticing his colleague's lack of a response. "complimentary lap dance from the bitch with the tittie piercings if you show up tonight. i know she's your favorite."

"pass," ran calls around a cigarette, absorbed in whatever he was doing on his laptop.

"you can't pass, dick, it's a big night!" sanzu retorts, clearly offended.

"i'm seeing someone tonight."

rindou scoffs and ran throws him a look.

“you’re fuckin pussy whipped, idiot,” rin rolls his eyes.

"no way," sanzu scoffs. "no way you're seeing that same fuckin girl."

ran is silent, he continues trying to drown out sanzu's voice. the truth is, he was still seeing the same girl. it had been nearly four months since you and ran had met at the club and, as out of character as it was for him, he hadn't been with anyone else. hadn't even thought about it. he really didn't mind going on dates with you, enjoyed them even. in the last couple weeks he'd even started trying to choose some of the outings so you wouldn't have to plan them all. unlike most of his past flings, you were worth seeing again. and again, and again, and again. he liked being in your company, had grown to enjoy and long for the times you got to spend together, even fully clothed.

ran was definitely not "boyfriend material" in the traditional sense. he'd never considered that he could ever be a relationship guy. his job was dangerous and demanding. it ran the risk of pulling him away at a moment's notice and keeping him off the grid for long periods of time with no explanation. it had shaped him into the man you met at the club, a man of strip clubs, hookers, and, yes, getting his dick wet with random girls in club bathrooms.

with you, ran had it all. someone to confide in, someone to be intimate with, someone that gave him a reason to make his free time non-bonten time. it had been less than 24 hours after your first date at the steakhouse that he had realized how fucking good and different it felt to be around you. after years of the same shit with bonten or all the gangs that came before it, of course he was going to pursue this new possibility.

sanzu takes ran's silence as an answer, "fuck, ran, is it??" he howls with laughter. “did you go soft on us, man? got wifed up and lost your edge or some shit?”

“first, shut the fuck up. second, you would be doin the exact same fuckin thing if you knew how tight that shit is.” the regret for his words comes instantly.

“alright, then help me understand,” sanzu teases. “you plannin on sharin with the class?”

something ugly starts to boils deep in ran’s stomach. he's never once felt this sort of annoyance– the kind that borders on genuine anger– while simply joking with the boys. he wanted to abruptly end the conversation, didn’t want a single other person thinking about his girl and her pretty lips and tight little body and perfect fuckin cunt anymore or ever again. it was for him, him only. he wanted to swing at sanzu, knock him out of his fucking chair and leave the room. but where the fuck was that coming from? it didn't feel like ran at all.

so ran pushes the feelings down and does as normal ran would, diverting sanzu's attention away from his changing persona and the woman who had caused it, away from his clearly shifted views on women, sex, himself. he snorts a laugh and mumbles a pompous, “you fuckin wish.”

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a few more weeks go by and ran has successfully managed to avoid any further mentions of you with the bonten guys. he's more careful following the conversation with sanzu and, luckily, the topic doesn't come up again.

he's watching you intently from the bed as you brush your teeth in his bathroom. smiling to himself, he marvels at how differently your relationship has turned out from what he'd expected. it was like no other relationship ran had ever had, if you could even call his past conquests relationships at all... there was a private desire to always make you happy, keep you smiling. a constant need to make sure you were kept safe, far from bonten, its executives, and all its business. it had been such a drastic shift in him. honestly, ran couldn't remember the last girl he'd even saved in his phone with a name before you.

you meet his eyes in the mirror and grin at him. "who's got you smiling like that?" he calls, motioning you toward him. you pad across the room, climbing onto the bed and settling into his open arms. he holds you tightly against his bare chest, kissing your forehead fondly. you chuckle, "hey, when did you get so sweet, huh?" "m'not sweet," he says through a grin, squishing your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and pecking your lips. "i'm a nefarious mob boss." you laugh at the epithet– your favorite from the tabloid articles about him– that had become something of an inside joke between the two of you. he can't help but join in your laughter, delighted just by seeing you so giddy.

a loud ding sounds from the nightstand and ran reaches across you to grab his phone. "what's wrong?" you ask when his brow furrows at the screen. "someone's at the door..." he clicks the notification and it brings him to the live video feed from his doorbell. there's a man smiling and waving into the camera, like a batman villain. his long hair is dyed pale pink, his mouth bookended by even lighter pink scars. "oh, you've gotta be fuckin' kidding," he grumbles.

"is it work?" your voice is tight. he realizes he's worried you and he hates it. kissing your forehead once more before getting to his feet, he reassures you that it's nothing, "i'll get rid of him in two minutes. promise."

before he leaves his bedroom he sends a stern look your way, "stay in here. okay?" you nod obediently and he moves through the penthouse toward the front door. "i'm off the fuckin clock," you hear him say as soon as the door has been yanked open. your eyes widen at the change in his tone. cold, all business.

"good news and bad news," sanzu is breathing heavily. "i got that info about the police raid. bad news is, it was not easy." ran notices sanzu is holding his side, notices dried blood under his coat. "you fuckin idiot," ran growls, grabbing sanzu by the back of his jacket and dragging him into the apartment.

"stay here," he orders, sitting his disheveled coworker at the kitchen table. "i've got bandages."

you stand up from the bed as ran bursts into the room. "is everything o–" he cuts you off, making a beeline toward the bathroom. "it's fine. you– fuck– please just sit down. stay in here." you follow him anyway, watching from the doorway as he starts pulling out drawers and rummaging around.

"what are you looking for?"

"first aid kit."

"it's under the sink."

he crouches, opens that cabinet next, and there it is. despite his frustration, he smiles up at you apologetically before rushing out of the room again.

"they had a fucking k-9 unit," sanzu groans, squirming as ran dabs his bloody, gashed flank with a peroxide soaked cotton ball. "isn't that fucked up?" ran sighs, nodding slightly. he's too tense to really listen. you're in the other room, listening to their every word, worrying about this dangerous business he was involved in. ran feels sick wondering how you'll react when you discuss it after sanzu leaves.

"oh, well hellooo." ran's head snaps up, following sanzu's gaze to something behind him. you're standing in the doorway, nervously holding a tube of antibiotic ointment in your hand.

ran's eyes bulge as they rake down your frame. your shorts suddenly seemed too short, your oversized pajama shirt bordering on see-through. he wanted to get up and shove you back into his bedroom, shut the door and keep you away from sanzu's gaze. at least until your long legs were covered up and you had put a bra on, but maybe not even then. he was reaching a panic as he considered the thoughts that might run through sanzu's filthy fucking brain about his girl.

sanzu nudges him, "who's this? you didn't tell me you had company! i would've gone over to rindou's to bleed out." the corner of your mouth twitches up at sanzu's words. you and sanzu exchange introductions. you can see ran's hands curling into fists, his jaw clenching. he's far from happy. you hadn't done as he'd instructed and now you were meeting one of the members of his company that he tries so hard to keep you so far removed from, too.

"this fell out of the first aid kit," you hand it to ran, letting your hand stay in his for just a moment longer than it needed to, hoping that it would calm him down a little. "i thought you might need it. nice meeting you, haruchiyo." sanzu nods politely, still smirking like he's just witnessed some big secret come to light. which, to be fair, he kind of had.

"so–" "shut up," ran bites. "i don't want to fuckin hear it." sanzu's smug expression only deepens, but he stays quiet. "and not a word to anyone else. okay? for my girlfriend's sake, be fuckin cool about this. i don't want her getting involved in anything."

sanzu agrees, "you got it, man. happy for you. she's as fuckin' fine as you– fuck, ran, OW!" ran presses the cotton ball sharply against sanzu's wound, effectively shutting him up. once he's bandaged up, sanzu produces a handful of painkillers from his pocket and swallows them down. "like a new fuckin man," he claps ran on the back. "i owe you one. say goodnight to your beautiful mrs. from me." ran shuts the door in his face.

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ran steps into the doorway to his bedroom and lets out a heaving sigh. you scramble up from the bed and hurry over to him, hugging tightly around his middle. "i'm sorry," you mumble." he wraps an arm around you, kissing the top of your head, "don't be. that was just..." he shakes his head to clear it. "i wish you'd stayed put, honey."

"i know, i know," you frown. "i just wanted to help."

you're both silent for a moment. you step back to look up at him.

"so i'm your girlfriend, huh?" you raise an eyebrow at him teasingly.

"you were eavesdropping, too??" he fakes annoyance, shoving you back onto the mattress and climbing on top of you as you giggle. "you're in big trouble."

"nooo," you whine impatiently. "one time. for me. say that you wanna be my boyfriend."

his violet eyes soften, he cups your cheek. "i wanna be your boyfriend. real fuckin bad. alright?"

"alright," you grin and he kisses you, feeling like the luckiest man on the planet.

3:19 AM | haitani r.

haitani ran x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend comes home late and hurt after a long night out

warnings: fem!reader, unedited + written on my phone, prob lots of errors, petnames (doll, babygirl)

wordcount: 1.5k ish

“you’re late.”

three hours late, to be exact. ran had told you he’d be back at midnight the latest so at the very least he could give you a kiss goodnight before you fell asleep. your schedules rarely matched up—with his business taking place during that latest hours of the night and you having to be up early in the morning for classes—but he always at least tried to lay with you before you slept for the night, knowing you couldn’t sleep well without him. and he was always sure to be with you on nights before big exams for you.

like tonight.

except tonight.

“i know, i’m sorry,” and you knew he was, you could hear it in his voice and you knew it wasn’t his fault—his work was unpredictable and dangerous but he always did his best to come back to you.

“it’s okay,” and it was.

even if you could smell the smoke and alcohol from all the way across the room.

you sat up in bed, blinking blearily from your state of half-sleep, looking across the room toward where your boyfriend was standing, unbuttoning his shirt—struggling to unbutton his shirt.

your brows furrowed, eyes narrowing trying to do understand what was going on through your half-hazed mind.

he’s hurt?

“ran?” you asked quietly, taking in the red-stained white button-up that you could barely make out through the dark, the way he was tensing and letting out soft hisses every time he moved. “ran, what happened?”

ran turned his head to look at you, a wince decorating his pretty face and you forced yourself out of bed when you finally caught sight of the dark bruises decorating his chest and face, the blood smeared across his skin.

“doll, lay back down, i’ll come join you soon,” ran’s voice was rough and you shook your head.

“ran, don’t ignore me, what happened? i thought you were going to a club with rindou and sanzu?” you ignored his words, nightgown slipping off your shoulders as you rushed toward him, nearly tripping over the bedsheets your legs tangled in.

a wry smile tugged at his lips as you approached him, hands cupping his face gently, thumbs tracing over the bruises marring his cheekbones. he leaned his face into your hand, pressing his lips against your palm, “we were, had some unexpected guests. they got the jump on us, unfortunately.”

“the blood, is it yours?” and maybe it was a dumb question, but you were still tired and ran was always patient with you. so all he did was take one of the hands cupping his face, covering it with one of his as he tossed you a wink.

“some of it, yeah,” and his grin remained but the look in his eyes was pained and your lips trembled as your gaze trailed down his bruised abdomen, one hand slipping from his face to trace down his chest over his tattoos and the blackened bruises.

“you should go to a hospital, ran,” and it was a stupid comment. you knew better than anyone that bonten did not have the luxury of hospital treatment unless they wanted to find themselves in a prison cell the moment they stepped out of the hospital.

ran ignored the comment, instead leaning in to press his lips to your forehead. your eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaped your lips.

“babygirl, please go try to get some sleep, you have an exam tomorrow,” he murmured, bringing one of his hands to the back of your head, toying with your hair.

“fuck the exam,” you said, blinking back the tears stinging your eyes because you hated seeing ran hurt, you had only seen him hurt once before and it hasn’t been half as bad as this. “you’re hurt, ran, let me run a bath for you and then we can lay down, okay?”

ran let out a deep sigh but you didn’t give him a chance to argue, your fingers intertwined with his and you gently tugged him in the direction of the bathroom, squinting as you flicked on a set of lights.

you let him lean against the bathroom sink as you kneeled to run the hot water, fingers shaking as you glanced back at him through the mirror, watching him struggle to remove his slacks.

in the new light, the blood and bruises were all the more visible against his pale skin. he looked weak and haitani ran never looked weak. he was always larger than life, always the protector, always one to hide his vulnerabilities and now-

your throat was tight as you rose to your feet, making your way back over to him, kneeling down in front of him to help him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

“i can do it,” ran’s voice was probably harsher than he intended, strained from the pain, from humiliation. ran despised showing weakness, even to you.

“please let me take care of you for once,” your voice wavered, looking up at him with grit teeth, trying to hide the worry pooling in your gut because ran was always the one looking out for you, and his brother, and sanzu haruchiyo, and kakucho, and he never let anyone take care of him—not while he was hurt, not while he was sick, and especially not when he was upset.

and he only watched you, lips flat and pressed together tight, and for a second, you really thought he was going to deny you. but then his gaze averted and both of his hands fell to his side, silently giving you permission to help him take off his pants.

ran was uncharacteristically quiet as you unbuckled his belt and slipped his slacks down his thighs, helping him pull his shoes and socks off before having him lift his feet to take off his slacks.

you bit your bottom lip, fingers tracing the tattoos decorating down his left thigh and the ugly yellow and green bruises surrounding them, gaze lifting to abdomen and the even uglier colors decorating his skin.

his ribs are broken.

“c’mon,” you said quietly, taking his hand in yours and rising to your feet again, leading him over to the now full tub. his face twisted into one of pain as he lifted a leg to step into the tub, a low hiss escaping his lips as he sunk into the water.

sitting on the edge of the tub behind him, leaning down to kiss the top of his matted hair, bringing your fingers to trace his shoulders. his body relaxed into the water and into your touch.

“you should go rest,” he murmured, “thank you for running the water for me.”

“i’m not leaving, c’mon, let’s get your hair washed,” you said.

“i’m not a child,” ran protested half-heartedly, but even as he spoke, he was relaxing into the feeling of you wetting his hair, gathering shampoo to massage it into his scalp.

“i know,” was all you said in response as you leaned down to press your lips to his shoulder, nails scratching his scalp, lulling his eyes shut.

reaching past him to grab a wash rag, you watched as the clear water began to tint pink from the dried and fresh blood staining his skin, swallowing thickly as you took another glance at his torso.

“you don’t have to do this,” ran said.

“i know,” you repeated, “i want to.”

from behind him, you watched his jaw clench, grip tightening on the edges of the tub, upper body tensing.

“ran,” you sighed, and it was all he needed to relax back into your touch, and you let out a soft breath, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“do you…” ran began and you hummed into his neck, “can i close my eyes for a bit?”

and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice and you could practically see his eyes drooping shut just from his tone. you smiled against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

“of course,” you said quietly, “‘ll take care of you, ran. get some rest.”

-

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HARD TO GET MASTERLIST

ran haitani has a reputation to uphold. yet it all comes crumbling down when his newest target has no interest in playing his little game. he’s now determined to add your heart to his collection — he is down to do anything

pairings. ran haitani x f!reader

tags. drinking, blackmail, angst, explicit sexual content, smoking, loss of virginity, bullying, introverted reader, misogyny, mental breakdowns, reader hurts ran’s pride & ego, slow burn

one , two , three , four , five , six , seven , eight , nine, ten , eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen

if you want to be tagged for this series : click here

Watched/read all of jjk recently. Here’s how satosugu can still get a happy ending [delusional]

Mockingbird

Pairing: Shinichiro Sano x F!Reader

Genre: Crack, fluff, lil angst

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Canon divergent, OOC, profanity, bodily harm, gang violence, mentions of gore, casual misogyny, y/n genuinely tries to be a good parental figure, Shin keeps being a simp

You were born rotten, but he had a chance.

pt. 1 | previous | playlist

“If we win, I want your second in command to go out with me!” Shinichiro proudly announced, his hands crossed over his chest with a shit-eating grin.

He heard Wakasa facepalm beside him as a collective groan passed through the Black Dragons.

Tomoe allowed just a flash of bewilderment to mark her face, before she started laughing, hysterically, bending at the waist and clutching her stomach as she leaned on you to not fall.

You heard your members snickering behind you as you stood beside your leader, an unimpressed look plastered on your face as you stared at the man in front of you.

His hair was a fucking embarrassment.

Tomoe straightened up, still giggling, but as soon as she looked at Shiniciro’s face, her hysterical fit of laughter started again.

“Wait, sorry, let me just-“ She barely managed to wheeze out, catching her breath, “Let me just-“

She burst out laughing again.

You sighed, seemingly irritated but with a playful smirk on your lips.

“Y/n, do you accept those conditions?” She somehow got out, breathless and face red from laughter, looking up at you and cackling when she saw your unimpressed face.

“I mean, sure, but,” You licked your lips, eyes passing over Shinichiro’s form, “This isn’t really a gang matter, is it?”

“Oh, you’re right!” Tomoe clapped her hands, having the same thought as you, the shit-eating grin still on her face as she stepped away from you and you just knew she’ll torment you about this later.

“Here, let’s strike a deal, lover boy,” Stepping forward, your hands deep inside the pockets of your pants, you grinned, and you could swear you saw the man gulp, “No need to bring our gangs into our clearly destined love. Let’s do this one-on-one.”

Another groan passed through Black Dragons, and you could swear you heard the tall, dark-skinned man say ‘Great. Now we’ll have to bury him.’

“One-on-one? Cool, second in command versus second in command, let’s do this.” The dark-haired man with a scar standing next to Shinichiro stepped forward, cracking his knuckles with a grin, but Tomoe shook her head.

“You’re not the one tryna take our poor y/n away, are you? Only he*,” She nodded in Shinichiro’s direction, “Can fight for this to a fair deal.”

“Oh well, I tried,” Takeomi shrugged, stepping back, “It was nice knowing you, Shin.”

“Wait!” Shinichiro suddenly exclaimed, pointing a finger at you, “How old are you?”

Amusement twinkled in your eye.

“19.”

Shinichiro swiftly turned to Wakasa, worry written all over his face.

“It wouldn’t be weird to date someone two years younger, right?”

Wakasa looked close to popping a blood vessel.

“I’d really prefer if you were more woRRIED ABOUT THE FACT YOU’RE ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE!”

“Is it weird?”

“NO, YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH, BUT YOU’LL NEVER TAKE HER OUT BECAUSE WE’RE ABOUT TO ORGANISE YOUR FUNERAL!”

Shinichiro shrugged.

“Tell gramps and ‘Zana and Emma and Mikey I love them.”

Wakasa looked utterly and fully done with everything.

“So will we fight, sweetheart?” Stepping closer to Shinichiro with your hands inside your pockets, your smile was infectious.

“Of course!” Grinning, even as his gang let out another prolonged groan, Shinichiro shrugged off his jacket, stepping closer as well.

“Before we do, lover boy,” You sounded too cocky and too excited, but he couldn’t help to find it immensely attractive, “Pick a number between 1 and 7.”

Ah, he knew this one, Wakasa warned him about it.

He also said to never pick 7.

So, naturally…

“Seven!” Confidently crossing his arms, he proudly exclaimed even as silence fell over your up-until-now laughing gang.

Quirking an eyebrow, your face turned inquisitive.

“Are you sure you want that?”

“Positive!”

The huff Takeomi let out from behind him almost muted Tomoe’s serious, muttered command.

“Someone have an ambulance ready.”

Your grin seemed to split your face in half, with too many teeth and a glint in your eye.

The fact that Wakasa already had a prayer circle going wasn’t too encouraging.

“Hey, Shin! What colour flowers do you want on your grave?”

The second your foot connected with his solar plexus, he almost regretted not responding.

The worst part wasn’t even that he got beat up within an inch of his life, the blood from his broken nose seeping down his throat, mixing with saliva and pooling on the inside of his mouth, body full of aches and misery, and at this point, he was sure he at least had a broken rib.

No, that wasn’t the worst of it, and he knew Wakasa, Benkei and Takeomi would laugh at him if they could read his thoughts, but to hell, at least those were private.

The worst was that this truly will be his 21st rejection, and to hell with it, what is he doing wrong?

You fought fast and mean, something ferocious and self-confident in your steps, most of your movements a blur Shinichiro could barely register, not wasting any time on intimidation tactics or chit-chat, even when he asked ‘Nice weather up there?’ when you threw him on the ground, looming above him, before beating the shit out of him all over again.

He tapped your hip three times, signalling defeat, and as you got off him, leaving him alone on the ground, eyes closed, he could hear his members murmuring, asking if he’s alive.

“Well, that concludes our match, ‘twas nice doing business with ya! We will continue sharing the turfs, no problems now, are there?” Tomoe exclaimed, grinning like a mad woman in front of your cheering gang.

Shinichiro flashed a thumbs up, every movement another hellscape of misery for his already aching body.

Wakasa was the first by his side, grabbing his hand to pull him up, anger and worry mixing on his face, but shutting up as soon as he saw Shinichiro’s warning look.

“Come on Shin, get up, not like that bitch was that pretty anyway.”

Before Shinichiro could scold him, silence fell over Dead Snakes again, each and every member cautiously looking at you.

“Well now he’s done it.” Tomoe sighed, seemingly exhausted in a second.

Neither Wakasa nor Shin had enough time to process when you appeared before them, hand reaching and fingers tangling into Wakasa’s hair, getting into his face.

Even as the two of you fought, Shinichiro noted, all to be seen on your face was a mask of smug calmness, not another emotion betrayed, but now, you looked pissed.

Shinichiro took a long breath.

“Well then, let’s have a chat, Imaushi, whatcha think about that? Why are you cowering? Fucking scared?” Sneering, your grip on his hair tightened, “I am not interested in hearing any of your bullshit. That bitch, huh?”

Your face was mere inches from Waka’s, his teeth gritting from the pain as your eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a sadistic smile, voice absolutely furious.

“Let’s be honest, Imaushi, if I was a guy, you’d be begging to suck my dick right here and now. You’d think I’m the coolest fucking guy out there, but oh no, I’ve got a couple of hormones wrong and a slit between my legs, and so I’m just a bitch, aren’t I?”

“Hey-“ Shinichiro tried, but Tomoe stepped in before he could get another word in, her hand gently settling on your shoulder.

“Come on, y/n, we’ve won, he’s just an asshole. Let him go.”

You did as you were told instantly, allowing Wakasa to fall to the ground with a thump.

Tomoe gently wrapped her arm around your shoulder, throwing Wakasa a glare as she started dragging you away, but you stopped her for a second, turning to Shinichiro.

“Hey, loverboy!”

Shinichiro look at you, confused, raising an eyebrow.

“Meet you at the Wandakura Park, Friday, 7 p.m. sharp. Don’t be a minute late or I’m dipping,” Smirking at his bamboozled face, you allowed Tomoe to start walking you to the rest of the gang, not even looking at him as you shouted, “You’re kinda cute with your hair down!”

Shinichiro continued staring for a couple of minutes even after you left, kneeling on the ground, eyes wide and unfocused.

Takeomi poked him with a stick, and even then, all Shinichiro did was turn his head, looking right through him.

“I have a date.” Whispering, Shinichiro finally smirked.

“WITH A FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!” Screaming, Wakasa finally stood up, ruffling his hair and cringing at the sensation.

“To be fair,” Benkai started, “She had a point-“

“Not another word, I swear to God.”

. . . next

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Home was the only place left.

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once again in shambles emotionally bc of this fictional character (diluc genshin impact)