#Roppongi all night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chisubi · 2 months ago

Text

a recollection of bellflowers — h. rindō

content. fem!reader, slice of life, implied／referenced infidelity (not by you or rindō), non-linear

word count. 7.4k

note. this is something i’ve been working on for a while because i have no idea how to write rindō . . . >< i wanted this to have a summery shōjo feel to it, so hopefully i was able to capture it well enough ?? (also, sorry, this is a little unedited.)

i had to force myself to finish this or else i would end up forgetting about it again ! there’s only three parts to this, however, updates will be sporadic :x

part one ／ from summer, 1999

Your fiancé has a lover in Tokyo.

He doesn’t tell you, you never ask, you just know — a woman’s intuition is never wrong. Something you learned from your dear mother.

Two nights ago, while you are both lying beside one another in bed, he complains that he has yet another business trip in Tokyo [his last one was just a few weeks ago], he asks if there is anything you would like him to buy — like that dessert you find yourself indulging in a little too much these days, a new novel to add to your collection of unread books that you swear you will get to them eventually, a new set of coffee mugs or a bouquet of your favourite flowers. You tell him, “No, it’s okay. I don’t need anything.”

He doesn’t press when you decline. Instead, he leans down to capture your lips with his before he leaves; the wind rushes by, chilling over the spot he had touched. His “I’ll miss you” never reaches you, carrying with it the ghosts of your past. His “I love you” completely passes you by. Ever-so-fleeting.

It’s been this way for a few months now. You don’t know when it first began, but the signs became more and more obvious as the days passed by. Rather than sadness or anger, you don’t really feel anything anymore. Only regret remains. Those memories and promises you both made together are beginning to fade. And what seems to make your heart shake is that you don’t know what to do, despite change and abandonment seemingly always following after you. Time and time again. Even after all these seasons, you are still lost.

When summer burns, or when fireworks spark up the midnight sky, you feel it on your tongue and skin as the same memories fill your mind once again. That summer night by the river’s edge. And summer nights following that — all of them are unforgettable, always leaving you feeling the bittersweet taste of citrus and honey drowning in the back of your throat. Too sweet, too sour.

No matter where you are in the world, a spirit of a little girl clinging onto the sandbox of an old playground remains in Roppongi. Abandoned, yet not once forgotten. Your flesh, blood, and bones will always be made up of Rindō and Ran from way back then. You hold these memories deep in your heart so preciously like a collection of little treasures as you continue to grow older.

A quarter before midnight, the moon is down and clouded by the fog; you take the train all the way to Roppongi. It’s strangely empty inside, you cannot see what lies outside. Tired and uneasy, the sound of the midnight train running across the tracks lulls you to sleep.

—

You are eleven when your mother drops you off at your grandfather’s house all the way in Roppongi during the summer; miles away from the countryside you grew up in. She doesn’t wait for your grandfather to open the door to come and greet you. She yells out how she will see you in a few weeks, the engine roars, and she is gone.

You have never met any grandparents before. Your mother doesn’t like to talk about them, so you never ask, not wanting to overstep the invisible line (she is scary when she is in a foul mood). You learn to be a good child because you want to see your mother smile again — she stopped smiling for months now, and you don’t know why. However, you believe she will feel better once she picks you up in a few days.

After all, adults need their rest as well (or something like that).

You soon also learn that your grandfather is a tall, scary man. A seemingly permanent scowl, a low and gruff voice that is only heard through a few words. A strong scent of alcohol lingers on the collar of his shirt – one you sometimes smell on your mother’s breath – he looks at you so emptily, then sighs. The chill in the air prickles against your exposed skin, you gulp.

No matter how silent of a man he is, you are a good daughter, so you introduce yourself to him and thank him for letting you stay with him — “I’ve always imagined meeting you, grandpa. I saw you in a picture before!”

These words seem to catch his attention. His tracks stop, he doesn’t look back, and all you can see is his wide back. You hear him mumble something beneath his breath, you don’t catch any of the words — you weren’t meant to. Something sticks out about your grandfather. Something you can’t help, but focus on is his missing a pinky. You try not to stare, and he doesn’t say anything when he catches your innocent, curious eyes. Rather, he doesn’t say anything at all to you and you can’t help but become overly sensitive to every draw of his breath.

You wish you were back home in that little countryside town, tucked far away from this bizarre place. You want your mother to come and pick you up.

You would rather be at home with her than here.

—

Surprisingly, you got more sleep than you expected last night. This is your first time sleeping in a bed that doesn’t belong to you; in a place that is so foreign to you.

And you guess it wasn’t so bad. The mattress is a lot softer than the one back at home.

Breakfast is simple and traditional. A bowl of steamed rice, fried mackerel with a side of nattō (you don't like the smell, but you try your best to swallow the beans without making any faces, and fail). The mackerel on your plate is neatly pulled apart, bones discarded, and you smile to yourself. Your grandfather is more attentive — kinder than he looks. Your teachers have always told you and your classmates to never judge someone based on their appearance.

“Um . . . Grandpa?” Silence is met with your call. However, you take that silence as a sign to continue speaking. “Can I, uh, may I go outside for a little bit?”

“There’s a park nearby,” he simply replies with a few words before directing his attention back onto the television.

Your eyes brighten. “Okay, thank you!”

Quickly shoving down your breakfast, you’re out the door and ready to play.

So, your grandfather isn’t the greatest at giving directions. After some twists and turns and walking back and forth, it is not too hard to find the park he vaguely described.

There's a group of kids playing on the playground, dangling off the monkey bars and sitting around. Too shy to approach, you shuffle over to the swing set, and rock yourself back and forth.

After some moments of swinging, and looking back at them to your feet, you hear a bunch of footsteps heading towards you.

You look up in anticipation and nervously smile at the group of boys in front you. Maybe they want to join you? [Hopefully.] “Um, hi! Did you want to—” Your words are immediately cut off as someone steps right in front of you.

“Get off.”

“H-huh?”

“H-huh?” A boy mocks with a high pitch tone and your cheeks heat up when you hear laughter surrounding you.

“Get off so we can play,” this one stands in front of you, hair short with a red cap in his hand. “You can hear properly, right?”

Someone says, “No, I don’t think she can.”

Another laughs.

The short-haired boy glares at you, hand reaching over and tugs on your hair — hard. You yelp as your hand immediately wraps around his wrist. “We told you to move, so move,” he harshly shouts and you flinch as your ear rings.

You don’t understand why they’re mad or why they are telling you to leave. This has never happened to you back at home before.

You yell at the boy to let go of you, pushing his arm away as hard as you can. However, this action only leads him to pull hard this time. You yelp. The group breaks out into snickers and grins.

Traitorously, your body betrays you as tears gather in the corner of your eyes. You don’t want to cry — you don’t like crying, never wanting anyone to see your tears. But you feel so helpless and lost and alone.

"Hey, wait, you're gonna make her cry. . .” Someone speaks up and for a second, you’re hopeful.

“I’m not even doing it hard. She’s just being a baby,” the short-haired boy scoffs before he accuses, “why do you care? You like her?”

His face flushes, and beneath the thick frames of his glasses, his widened eyes shake. “No way!”

“I bet you think she’s pretty.”

The boy gags as he takes great strides away from you. His arms cross over his chest as he yells, “Gross. Over my dead body.”

“Oh, is that so?”

It’s a voice that comes out of nowhere, causing you to jump. Colour drained from the faces in front of you; awfully, sickly pale.

And it comes fast all too fast — someone running in between you and the group of boys with a flying fist. Another one and another one. Colour falls from your cheeks mirroring the group and unlike them, you find yourself unable to move. To run away. You think you see a drop of red splattered on the concrete as you tightly shut your eyes, your body shakes and you cover your ears in an attempt to block the sound.

Someone cries. Screams, shoes smacking against the pavement, and laughter — one both loud and taunting. Then all of a sudden, everything goes silent. Hesitantly, you slowly open your eyes. Purple fills your entire vision. You jump at the sudden close proximity, you can feel their hair tickling your cheek as he leans in close to you.

There’s glass covering purple gems.

The boy asks, "Are you good?”

You slowly nod, “Thank you for, um . . . helping me?” You say this rather confusingly, unable to comprehend everything that had happened within minutes. You take a step back as you look around, you don’t see any of those boys from earlier. They vanished as if they were never here, the footprints made in the sandpit and droplets of blood remind you otherwise.

Your eyes fall towards his hands that punched those bullies — knuckles all red, you bite your lip to conceal your quivering lips. You turn to the taller boy with no visible cuts or bruises, only a smug grin on his face that matches with the one in front you, and you thank him as well. When you take a better look at him, you notice the two of them sort of look similar.

He looks down at you and waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Those guys were lame for ganging up on you. They always pick fights with people weaker than them.”

“Right, those idiots got what was coming for them,” the other boy adds with a laugh. “Are you not from around here?”

You shake your head.

“Thought so. Haven’t seen you around here before. So, what’s your name? I’m Rindō, and that’s my older brother, Ran,” the boy – Rindō – introduces.

You tell them your name and thank them once again.

“Uh-uh. Just tell us if they bother you again. We’ll deal with it,” says Ran.

You perk up, “You will?”

“Yeah, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.”

Roppongi belongs to the two boys who don’t seem older than you. Confused, you ask, “Are you guys protectors or something? Like heroes?”

Your words are met with snorts that evolve into laughter. Beside you, Rindō gives you a toothy grin as he readjusts his glasses. “I guess if that’s what you think, then sure.”

The heroes of Roppongi.

The sun is shining and his smile glows.

Meeting the Haitani brothers was probably nothing special, a similar story that could be told by countless people during their youth. However, to you, an eleven-year-old girl being picked on at the playground, helpless and tear-stained, they seemed like your heroes. So bright and blinding. A moment that changes your entire life.

—

Ran and Rindō have come to knock on the door to your grandfather’s house nearly everyday since then. When the old man opens it to see two unfamiliar children, he sighs before calling out your name (which makes your heart jump from your chest from how loud his voice can be). And you’re quick to slip on your old running shoes and bolt out the door.

Rindō tells you he found a cool place the other day, a hidden room at the back of an old shrine, and he wants to show it to you. Keeping up with the Haitanis is hard; chasing after them is even harder. Their legs aren’t that much longer than yours, but their strides are far too long, too fast.

Rindō is kind enough to slow down, only for a moment. “You’re too slow,” he complains before grabbing your hand and pulls you along to keep up with them. Without noticing, you don’t trip over your own feet anymore.

“Careful, Rindō,” Ran lowly warns as his hand reaches out and wraps around Rindō’s wrist, pulling him away from walking up the stone steps. The tall, red torii gate looms above. A crow lingers at the very top. “Don’t you know young children get spirited away here?”

“Huh? Spirited away? Like the movie?”

“No, no. Not the film, Rin,” Ran snickers at his brother’s words, you don’t understand what Ran finds so funny. And Rindō doesn’t seem to know either, but his face is red and he looks mad at Ran. “The legends. Haven’t you heard that the yōkai will come and snatch you up? They take away children who run off alone. They’ll come to get you, dummy.”

Rindō shakes his head, staring up at his brother with skeptical lavender eyes. “No way. You’re just trying to scare me again. I won’t fall for it anymore, nii-chan.”

“Nuh-uh, ‘m serious this time.” Ran says this so lightly, it sounds unconvincing.

Rindō's glare hardens as he crosses his arm. “Okay. Why are you such a liar these days?”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No—”

You block out their childish bickering — they always seem to do this. It’s always Ran who seems to start it. And through their yelling, an old memory flashes in your mind. Your head perks up in remembrance as you gasp.

This garners their attention because they both immediately stop their “argument” and turn to look at you.

“Wait, it is true! I heard that Tomoko-chan from the class next door visited the shrine last summer and she never returned . . .” you pitch in with the eerie rumour your classmates had whispered to each other last year — Tomoko-chan got taken away by a monster. Those words reach to the end of the long hallways and snuck into the wooden panels in the room. Kids at school don’t go anywhere alone now.

In the distance, a crow caws.

So, you learn something new: monsters also live in the city. They don’t only reside in the little town you grew up in. Monsters exist everywhere in the world.

The brothers send each other a look, one that you don’t understand, something only they know — only them. You watch as they communicate through stares alone before turning their attention back onto you.

“Really?”

Quickly nodding, you add, “Yup, it’s true. I swear. Everyone said so. She went to make a wish, and then disappeared. Her family isn’t even in town anymore.”

Ran lets out an exaggerated sigh. He crosses his arms with a half smile to his face. “See, I was looking out for you.”

“Right. Don’t you think you’ve been lying too much to me lately? At least, learn to make it believable.”

Ran laughs before quietly saying, “If you’re scared, just say so.”

The crow above the gate caws, careful, you glance up at the noise, to the long steps then to Ran, and then Rindō, who looks up at his brother clearly unimpressed.

Obviously, Rindō isn’t scared of ghosts, or yōkai, or monsters that eat children. He is already too old to believe in things like that. He protests and says this, despite you and Ran telling him otherwise, Rindō is skeptical. He says he still doesn’t believe you, he can’t believe you would make up a lie and follow Ran, and you tell him you would never lie to him or anybody. Only bad people lie.

However, the Haitani brothers are closer than anyone — they told you this when you first met, so it’s to no one’s surprise when they turn around and gang up on you instead. Because you are scared, or so Rindō insists. Ran says it’s okay because you are a girl and you’re just a baby compared to them. It’s true, you are scared of the yōkai who snatch away wandering children. You aren’t scared because of the reasons Ran says. It’s rather annoying how Ran calls you a baby for something like that.

(You don’t tell him that, though.)

The three of you don’t enter the shrine. They show you around the neighbourhood and some spots they like to hang out at, like an arcade and a newly opened ramen shop. The entire time, Ran holds both of your hands tightly, you are sure he is holding Rindō’s even tighter. Your shadows are overlapped, mixing together. The yōkai don’t come for them or you. You are safe together.

As the sun begins to set, you stop by a food stall, the old lady running it tells you that you look so pretty and you remind her of her granddaughter. She gives a discount — 100 yen for six pieces. Ran takes out the coin from his pocket and he divides the takoyaki between the three of you before heading home.

It’s quiet when you enter the house, nobody welcomes you home, but your grandfather sits in the living room watching television again. He spares you a glance, before turning his attention back to the t.v. Static and muffled voices fill the house.

—

A week turns into two, then three. Summer passes by quickly here in Roppongi. Everything moves so fast in the city, it’s exhilarating — overwhelming. Your little body struggles to keep up.

You run, run, and run the days away.

Again and again, you fall.

(Rindō and Ran pick you back up.)

“My mom abandoned me,” you tell Rindō one afternoon, weakly adding in, “. . . I think.” Hopefulness seeps through; a child’s innocence, your naïveté.

Underneath the big oak tree, Rindō turns to look at you while opening the blue ramune and gives it to you to drink first — he was supposed to buy two, but he forgot the rest of his change at home. He says it’s fine because he doesn’t mind sharing his drink with you. He shares drinks with Ran all the time. And you don’t mind it either.

“. . . She will,” he slowly replies, “maybe she is just busy working — adults are like that, y’know. What about your dad?”

Adults are like that, at least the ones you know. Your mom is probably busy, but either way, she lied to you and this is what hurts. You don’t try to hide your disappointment in her.

You shake your head, looking down at your swaying feet. “I don’t know.”

You really don’t know.

You don’t remember his face, eyes, and everything is blurred, but you recall his boxy smile and a heavy hand that ruffled your hair.

“I haven’t seen my dad before either. I don’t even think that guy knows I exist.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Are you lonely without him?”

He shakes his head, hair bouncing with every movement. “Nah, I have Ran. Even though he’s so annoying these days.”

The two [three] of you are similar in a way. It’s rather comforting knowing you aren’t the only one with a family like that.

Rindō vows to you that he will always be by your side so you aren’t alone anymore, because he has Ran, but you don’t have an older brother like Ran to stay with you.

He holds your hand — one so cold and sticky from the blue ramune. Again, he tells you that you still have him and Ran, because you are his best friend. Maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time. His words are warm, so you don’t mind his cold fingers touching yours — it cools you down from the heat, even if the rest of your body is melting under the summer sun. Somehow, it always finds a way to peek through the little gaps, through the spaces between your fingers.

Together, you finish the ramune with lighter hearts.

At the end of summer, you are still at your grandfather’s house — your mother never comes to get you. That little, big, tiny feeling brewing in you all summer in Roppongi turned out to be right. But you aren’t alone.

Time flows quickly in Roppongi. Months pass by in a blink of an eye.

—

Coming home to the city where everything first began leaves your thoughts in a flurry; too jumbled and twisted. This house hasn’t changed one bit, walking into your old bedroom feels like a dream; both familiar and alien. A few of your old belongings still remain in place, you never have it in you to pack it up and bring them with you. Your mother hasn’t bothered to move them either.

Tonight, you help your mother make katsu curry. A staple in many households; also, the first dish you learned how to make.

You can feel your mother’s nerves as today is the day where you are officially meeting the man she is seeing (whom she had once mentioned as her new colleague over a year ago). He seemed like a normal, stand up man, but you can tell she likes him, so you don’t disapprove of him.

To calm her down (as well as your own excitement and nervousness), the two of you make small talk as you cook.

“Did you love him?”

You immediately stiffen, the knife stops just above the fresh carrots from your mother’s garden, and you don’t press down. She doesn’t say who, but you already know who she is referring to. Your heart aches without the mention of his name. A boy who isn’t your fiancé. Your soon-to-be husband. “Did you love that boy from back then?”

Your face shines in the knife, the glare of the light above makes your reflection disappear. You force yourself to focus, continuing to cutting the carrot into chunks. The sound of the knife hitting against the cutting board echoes in your ears. “Why are you mentioning that? Why are you curious about it now? It’s been too long since then.”

“I used to think you would end up marrying him in the future.”

The sentence has you turning around in surprise. You harshly swallow, forcing a short laugh. Your heart clogs your throat. Emotions twisting like ebbing waves. “You never even liked him,” your voice doesn’t sound less tense.

“Maybe I didn’t, but you did.” Her expression says nothing — no hatred, regret, or sadness; she is only looking at you so clearly — right through to your leaking heart. All you wish is to run and hide from that all-knowing gaze of hers, you wish you never turned around. “For some people, they are only capable of loving one person their entire life. There’s a saying that nobody forgets about their first loves and for those people, sometimes their first love lasts forever.”

Some people, she says. By this, she means you.

The ring that sits prettily on your finger feels too heavy, squeezing your finger.

“. . . That already ended so long ago,” softly, you say.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tense atmosphere. There’s an exchange of looks — her expression soft as she offers a small smile of condolence.

The man – Mr. Hajime – arrives earlier than expected. You follow behind your mother as she opens the door and you see bright red roses before you see him. Your mother’s cheeks turn red as she bashfully smiles while accepting the bouquet.

He enters the home and when you meet his eyes, you smile and nod in acknowledgment. Mr. Hajime stops in front of you, pulling out a bouquet with a variety of flowers; of blues and whites.

“Thank you,” you say as he places the flowers in your hand.

His smile is awfully gentle. His eyes match that gentleness, too. An old, loving soul. “No, I should be the one thanking you. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your mother often talks about you.”

You smile as a reply.

You wish to know what she has said. And maybe you will ask him another time, you know you will. There’s no doubt you will be meeting him again and again.

Mr. Hajime moves with familiarity in the house as if he has been here many times before (you wouldn’t doubt if he has). He makes his way to the dining room as he turns on an old song on your grandfather’s beloved record player. You don’t know the title, but you remember hearing it play many times back when you were a kid. It sounds so nostalgic.

As the three of you eat dinner, a younger image of your mother and you eating in silence overlap, and the bittersweet feeling at how much your mother has grown begins to hit you. Despite her fading black hair and the grays that replace them, and the barely noticeable wrinkles around her eyes; the look in her eyes seems younger — happier.

You’ve never seen her like this before. Her heart races for her — her love for Mr. Hajime and the happiness he brings to her. You’re happy for her, you really are.

This street and this house bring back so many memories; memories of times that will never come again and new ones are being created. And even more in the future.

Nostalgia continues to devour you. Your heart is aching in many different ways.

—

A year passes by, you don’t hear from Rindō or Ran after a few weeks of sending letters back and forth, and occasional phone calls made on your house line when your mother works overtime on Saturday nights.

Ran had warned you beforehand that he doesn’t do handwritten letters or phone calls or emails [whatever that means], you think he may just not want to talk to you, and strangely, you don’t take much offence in it. Like Rindō has always said, Ran is Ran, he does things his own way. Plus, you had already assumed you would hear updates on Ran from Rindō, however your assumption turns out to be wrong.

Tons of calls and letters left unanswered. You send another one, your final letter to him.

2002 年 4月 22日

Hi Rindō,

I know it’s been a while since my last letter and I haven’t received one back from you either. I make sure to check the mailbox twice a week! I really will be upset if you don’t reply or call me this time for real.

The new year started recently and I’m being forced to join a club this time. Kaa-san is still busy with work, and she comes home exhausted, so I decided to join the culinary club. Coming home to a cooked meal is something everyone likes, right? I am not really confident in my cooking skills though. . .

I miss you and Ran a lot. It’s lonely here without you guys. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I won’t forgive you if you did. Write to me soon, okay? I want to know what you have been up to.

And it’s no shocker when there’s no response to it.

Your initial bitterness eventually fades into nothing but nostalgia.

As the years go on, you forget all about the Haitani brothers and Roppongi. Their faces become more and more blurred with each passing month. You must’ve been erased from their memory — a little childhood memory too dazed to remember.

Junior high is harder than it seems — making friends doesn’t come easy, you spend the majority of your time alone. But ever since you joined the culinary club in your second year, everyone there is friendly and supportive, and things begin to change. School becomes a little more fun, and sometimes, you don’t mind waking up so early in the morning.

You find yourself trapped in the middle of a circle. All eyes on you. Ones full of anticipation.

And of course, this could only be one thing — gossiping. They talk about love stories, first kisses, and boys. Unfortunately, the target today is none other than you.

“No, I don’t have a crush on anyone," you firmly state. It’s the third time this week you've been asked this question, you don’t understand why everyone is so curious.

“Ehh, don’t lie!” Sachiko playfully nudges you with a giggle. Eyes piercing into yours, and you inaudibly sigh at her skepticism. You don’t budge when she continues to push and she pouts. “Fine, fine. What about Naoki-kun from the baseball team?”

A chorus of ‘Ahh’s’ and giggles erupt in the room. A telling sign of the boy’s popularity. Even someone like you, who doesn’t care much about boys [yet] knows about him. From what you heard, he spends most of his time practicing baseball and he only dated one girl during his first year for only a week. He’s more serious than he seems, yet he gets along with everyone, parents and teachers included.

He’s good-looking. You aren’t blind, you know this much, but you don’t think you like short hair so much — even if Naoki-kun’s short hair suits him quite well. Still, you end up timidly agreeing with your club members, wishing to get this over with. “Mhm, I think Naoki-kun is kinda cute . . .”

"Oh my gosh . . .”

“Ah, I knew it,” someone says. “I mean, most girls like him, so it’s obvious, right?"

You never said anything about liking Naoki-kun in a romantic way, you just said he was kinda cute (you guess). You just shrug and the topic moves onto how a student in the grade below you had caught the new teacher from class 2-b and the principal on a date. Your married principal. A classic love affair. The rumour echoes down the streets in the town, forever spiralling.

And in the early morning of May, 2003, your mother enters the house again and you think she may have forgotten something before heading off to work. Instead, she tosses a letter on the kitchen table. She says it’s for you. It’s plain. A white envelope with no decorations — you immediately know it’s not from one of your friends from school and your heart races in anticipation even before you grab it. You flip it over to see if it says who it’s from.

And it does. It’s a letter sent from Roppongi — a letter from Haitani Rindō.

Time slows and your heart beats loudly in your ears. The wind leading into summer suddenly doesn’t feel so slow; the morning birds chirp in tune of your heartbeat.

It was already the end of June, you blow out your candles. Another June goes by and you graduate from junior high.

—

You are sixteen when you meet Rindō and Ran again.

They surprise you at the train station, and when you see them, you don’t recognise them at all. It feels like you don’t know who they are. They’re suddenly a lot taller, more mature with matching tattoos and dyed hair that you don’t see people your age with — and to their defence, they have always had dyed hair back when you first met. There’s an intimidating air to them which draws you in. An edge you should look out for. One step and you will fall.

Your grandfather has also changed — barely, but you can see he looks a little smaller than you remember him to be. Older, too. There’s wrinkles around his eyes and mouth — ones due to his permanent frown. Yet his eyes feel warm, they soften when he looks at you.

Ran doesn’t really hang out nor talk to you anymore. During your trip there, he spends most days out and sometimes Rindō tags along with him, in which you stay at home with your grandfather or go shopping. And when you first caught them with bruises on their faces and torn skin on their knuckles, you cried. Catching them two and three more times didn’t make it any better.

You knew from first glance that Rindō and Ran are what people call delinquents, you aren’t blind when faced with the obvious. It feels strange seeing your childhood friends like this — the violence indulge in.

(You couldn’t believe it when you first learned the reason as to why you haven’t heard from Rindō in a long, long time. It’s still hard to believe, but when you see them like this, you can’t refuse it.)

It gradually builds into a routine, always finding yourself in the Haitani home while their mother is away at work. Forcing Rindō down onto his bed as you clumsily clean up his wounds, shaky, and unable to look away. Fretting over the way they’ve been hurt like a mother to her children (this is how their own mother probably feels coming home to be greeted by bruised faces). A burned cd of his favourite songs plays in the background. Quietly, because you’re both afraid of Ran waking up.

“Stop looking at me like that.” His tone is anything, but harsh. His sigh is heavy, yet soft. “You gotta stop worrying at this point. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

You immediately frown as you glare up at him. “I worry because you don’t.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it looks. Can barely feel a thing. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

You quickly retort, “It is . . . Why do you keep saying that? Every time I see you, you are injured. That’s not normal.” Growing more frustrated at his lack of self-care, you softly glare at his tattered hand. You mumble, “What are you and your brother even up to?” More so to you, than to Rindō.

However, he hears you. He laughs, more rather airy than his usual boastful one. “Aren’t you too nice?”

“No, I’m not,” you mutter. “Something like this is normal.”

“I guess that means my world isn’t so normal. I don’t know anyone else like you.”

Those pretty amethyst eyes draw you in. You shake your head, replying, “You will meet others like me. Caring about someone who is hurt is nothing special. It’s . . . it’s human to do so.” You hold his hand carefully in yours, inspecting the cloth to make sure it’s securely wrapped. Thumb brushing over the fabric.

“There’s only you.”

The room falls silent. The track slowly fades into the next. Your heart races.

Rindō coughs into his sleeve. “Um, I meant that I only know you. The guys I know aren’t really like that at all.”

It may be your mind playing tricks on you. The way he looks and sounds — his every gesture feels too tender to be Rindō. It’s odd, not him. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you too because the look in Rindō’s eyes seems too gentle and intimate. You look away.

“You have Ran, who cares about you a lot,” you point out, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

He quietly chuckles, “Yeah. That’s just Ran though. You know how he is.”

You vaguely reply, “I guess so.”

“You know so.”

“Everyone knows so,” you softly add, “just take of yourself more. Please.”

You lift your eyes for a split second, and he meets you within it. Rindō softly smiles, “Okay. I will, so you won’t cry anymore.”

You can’t look at him for too long without feeling your face flush, it gets too hot, and the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies that invade your stomach, pooling, itching to explode whenever he smiles at you. He makes you so nervous and you don’t know how to react. You’ve never felt this type of nervousness with someone before.

“I don’t cry.”

“I sure hope you won’t.”

You don’t know how to act.

That night, once Ran awakens from his nap, the three of you decide to hang outside. Roppongi is not similar to the countryside in any shape or form and you’re no longer surprised to see the city awake during these late nights. This city is always brighter after midnight.

Rindō had run off to the nearest konbini for drinks due to him losing three rounds of rock-paper-scissors [really, who actually chooses rock], and you and Ran are squatting down by the riverbank with sparklers burning in your hands. Rindō will probably be annoyed that the two of you started without him the second he ran off, but it’s Ran fault if anything. He’s the one who made you grab the sparklers and lit them himself.

However, Rindō wouldn’t be surprised by this, because everyone knows how impatient Ran can be at times.

“Y’know, on summer nights like this, the main character and her love interest would light sparklers together—” Ran begins to say with his sparkler dangles above yours, burning so fast and bright, “—and they will become stuck together. It stays like that, and that is usually when something in their relationship changes. . . I saw it in a shōjo anime before.” He pulls the end of his sparkler before his and yours get the chance to become tangled, and smiles softly at you. Ran looks pretty — prettier than most celebrities you see on television and magazine covers. He’s probably popular with girls.

And you assume, Rindō, too. He’s definitely no less popular than his brother. This thought immediately makes everything feel sour, your smile falters and you look back down at the sparklers. A pile of ash building below. The flames are bright, rushing into your eyes and leaves your head dizzy.

It’s quite beautiful; the way sparks flicker and dimming ashes fall around you. Vanishing within moments it hits the ground.

“You learned that from a shōjo anime?”

He replies with a shrug. “I mean, yeah. It’s a popular trope these days. I know you girls are into those types of things. Quite romantic, hm?”

You nod and don’t try to hide your smile. You didn’t think Ran was into anime like that. You didn’t know he was a romantic type of guy.

“Don’t laugh,” Ran scoffs. “You’ve become quite rude, huh.”

“I’m not! I just thought it was cute,” you huff in defense.

“Uh-huh.”

He rolls his eyes in which you mockingly repeat back, and you both laugh.

So, Ran is a little different these days. He’s all grown, almost unrecognisably so. But he is still your friend — there is still the Ran you knew back then there inside of him. And you think, he and Rindō could probably say the same about you. Change is inevitable, it comes hand-in-hand with growing up.

“So, this is something you do with someone you love. . .” you mutter his words to yourself. “Why aren’t you doing it with someone you love—well, uh, have you?”

It’s silent. A croak of a frog, a call of a cicada. His answer lies in his silence and it’s sad to hear, because beneath everything, Ran is someone with lots of love to give. It’s unfortunate how he’s never once liked to wear his heart on his sleeve, hidden away deep in a metal cage. He is a nice guy, really. So sweet to Rindō — sometimes towards you.

Ran shakes his head, redirecting the conversation to you. Something he always seems to do. “Why aren’t you?”

You . . . ?

Attentive with the eyes of a hawk, Ran picks up on your confusion within seconds. He tells you not to mind his words which only makes you feel more lost — heart racing. You think Ran knows something, but you do not know what. The unknown is always terrifying and you want to know.

Ran wants an answer that you cannot provide. Beginning to feel warm underneath your thin clothes, you grow anxious under his heavy stare, yet can’t find it in yourself to look away.

His eyes drift for a second and light from the sparklers fall in. He looks back at you, then cocks his head in the opposite direction. Curious, you follow his line of sight — Rindō.

Immediately, you take this opportunity to run. You hand the remains of your incense stick to Ran as you jump up, dusting off the dirt and ash that may have gotten on your clothes. Running up the stone steps, meeting him halfway (you pay no mind to Ran who yells that you got dirt on him). Your shadows reach before your bodies do, overlapping underneath the flickering lamp post.

“Rindō! Why’d you take so long?” You ask while leaning in, folding your hands behind your back. His blond locks are messy and sticking to his forehead instead of styled in his usual fashion, red cheeks and his chest is raising up and down as he breathes. “Did’ya run here? You’re looking a little red . . .”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, visibly annoyed with a prominent scowl on his face. “This idiot in front of me was taking his sweet fuckin’ time,” he replies, his glasses shift down his nose bridge and you reach your hand up to fix it. However, before you can, he grabs your wrist (a sudden yet gentle gesture) completely stopping you.

You awkwardly mutter, “Um. Sorry . . . ?”

Rindō blinks before letting go of your hand, shaking his head. “Ah, no,” he clears his throat, “I got it. Thanks.”

Opening the plastic bag, he holds a bottle of ramune towards you. The little spot he touched burns, and it’s then when Rindō asks you what’s wrong because you had suddenly froze in your movements. “Did you want a different flavour? I think I saw a strawberry one left,” he offers, “or you can take my drink. It’s beer, though. You don’t drink, right?”

“No, no. I like it. I prefer the original one,” you decline as you take the drink from his hand. Fingers brushing against his cold ones. “Thanks, Rin.”

“I do, too. It’s my favourite.”

His favourite, yet he had replaced it for some cheap canned alcohol — he and Ran aren’t even old enough to drink, but you don’t really care, either. Things like that strangely suit them.

You bite your tongue when you almost reply, I know. However, you do respond with a brief, “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a necessity on summer days, y’know?”

You can’t help, but agree. “That’s why I like it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And you wonder if Rindō remembers everything that happened the summer the both of you first met — you do. Those summer days spent underneath the shade side by side sharing melting popsicles and ramune, running around Roppongi and challenging each other at the arcade games. Aiding new cuts and bruises that appear on the brother’s bodies, Rindō would place a bandaid on your hands and knees every time you had fallen down trying to catch up to them, and whispering secrets only meant for the two of you to know [ones Ran comes to know, unsurprisingly]. You miss those summer days, and you don’t want to see the end of this one too.

Days with the Haitani brothers are unforgettable — so special, a feeling nothing can replace. Your hometown has never once felt like this.

Nobody has made you feel this way before.

You bring the ramune to your mouth, sweetness dissolves on your tongue, your lips tingle, and your heart burns and burns and burns.

—Bang!

A sudden sharp noise causes you to jump, droplets of your drink splash onto your thin shirt and down your chest. The culprit is none other than Rindō, who had bought firecrackers along with the drinks — setting it off a little too close to him and Ran, bursting right beneath their feet. Rindō laughs uproariously due to your surprised expression — so loud and clear, it cuts through the cicadas’ callings, passing cars, and the booming of firecrackers. His smile is like the warmth of summer; brighter than sparklers and the sea of little stars above. Your cheeks heat up, and all you can see is him.

At this moment, it’s two a.m. at the end of July when everything hits you like a huge tidal wave. Oh. You understand it now.

This feeling burns into you.

Everything feels like summer.

#tokyo revengers #rindou haitani #rindou haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #haitani brothers

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milkywaydrabbles · 1 year ago

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19/21 and 26 with........Haitani's!?!?!??! 🫣🫣🫣

I just can't stop thinking of them 😩😩

A/N: It was a little hard for me to start this one ngl, I was unsure how I'd be able to write the brothers sharing like THIS but I guess it's okay. I hope you enjoy it!! I brought the exhibitionsim out more with the enjoyment of being recorded instead of a public setting or someone else actively watching (the ending also kind of ties back into it) ANYWAYS MWUAH

Double penetration (one hole)/threesome/exhibitionism x Haitani Ran, Haitani Rindou

“Ran you fuck--didn’t you ever learn how to share?” The younger Haitani snarled, shoving the older brother away from you. “It’s my turn.”

You don’t know how you got in between them--two of the most dangerous men in the entire country. You’ve heard stories of the terrors they got into when they were younger in Roppongi, how they climbed the ranks through different gangs, how they ended up as executives for the nastiest crime syndicate on this side of the world. It should terrify you, really, how you’ve gotten yourself tied up with these men. They could throw you away in an instant, kill you if you looked at them wrong--make you disappear from the life you know and use you as a drug mule. A thousand things can go wrong.

And yet, you can’t help but smile whenever you’re with them.

You landed a job as a bartender in one of their clubs, normal job for the most part. You’d go in, do a bit of flirting, fight off a few way too drunk guys, and go home. You had no idea you’d been being watched for the better part of three weeks by the brothers themselves. You didn’t know what kind of place the club was until well after they formally introduced themselves as the co-owners, the Haitani brothers. Even then, you treated them the same way you’ve treated any other boss-with respect, but minimal interactions (as best you could, anyways.) They liked that, how you didn’t try to get money out of them, or sleep with them. They liked to keep it playful with their staff, but the women (and men!) would throw themselves immediately and it was such a turn off--Rindou would usually fire them the night after. They kept showing up at the clubs during your shifts, keeping a close eye on you. Ran started becoming bold and flirting with you on the job, which you brushed off as best you could.

It wasn’t until an unruly patron tried to grab you after your shift that the men really intervened with you, Ran pulling you close into his chest to shield you (kind of) as Rindou pulled the trigger between the pig’s eyes and called in a cleaning crew to get rid of the body. It was then that you understood who they were, who really owned the club. They steadied themselves to hear grating screaming come from you, girls were usually scared after seeing something like that. Instead, you wrapped your arms around Ran tight, gripping at the back of his shirt and letting out a shaky ‘thank you’ before steadying yourself and (attempting) to go home for the night.

They hadn’t left you alone since.

And now you find yourself caught in between them most nights after your shift, in one of their beds. Tonight was different, you’ve noticed, because Ran started pulling out his phone and setting it up on the dresser across from the bed. “Mind if we record it, pretty girl?” His voice always sent shivers down your spine. “Go ahead-” your voice came out shakier than you hoped, hearing the younger brother attached to your neck chuckle. “Already so worked up, baby, barely even started.” He teased, kissing and biting at the juncture of your shoulder, fingers dipping underneath the band of your underwear. You whimpered, fingers combing through his wild locks and tugging at the root, bringing him up from your neck enough to press your lips against his--all tongue and teeth as he bit down on your lower lip leaving you breathless. He took the opportunity of your parted lips to shove his tongue in your mouth, licking at your own. You tried to keep up with his overwhelming pace, suckling on the tip of his tongue making him groan. “Fuuck baby, got so lucky with you didn’t we?” Rindou’s voice was ragged, much different than the smoothness of Ran’s--his was nearly scratchy in the best way possible. It made your hair stand up on the back of your neck. His hands came up to your throat, one wrapping around the back while the other grasped at your lower jaw, keeping you attached to him. You felt two taps on your ass cheek, and hands prying your underwear lower until it hit your knees. “Come on pretty, help me out and take these off.” Ran joined in, and you lifted each knee one at a time off the bed to let him remove the clothing fully. Your hands clawed at Rindou’s chest, trying to keep yourself afloat as the elder Haitani pressed open mouth kisses on your shoulder blades, trailing to your back. “Don’t think we can ever let you go, sweet girl.” Ran mumbled against your skin, raking his nails over the fronts of your thighs towards your weeping cunt. You broke away from Rindou enough to gasp for breath, nose to nose when you let out a small cry at the feeling of Ran’s hand slapping at your clit.

Your lower half jolted away from the stimulation, but when Ran pressed himself against your back you had no choice but to take each smack he gave you. “Gotta take everything I give you, angel. Now be good for me, yeah?” Two fingers suddenly shoved themselves deep into your pussy, and Rindou had pressed his lips back to yours to muffle your cries. Even after all the times you’ve been in their beds, their fingers are a stretch to begin with. You’re dripping wet, but his fingers are so long they hit so deep. Ran starts off slow, sucking hickies into your shoulders and neck as he finger fucks you, smiling against your skin when he feels you fucking yourself back onto him. “There you go, beautiful~” He coos, scissoring his fingers inside of you rubbing at your walls so good. Your closed eyes open to look at Rindou in front of you, eyes already wild as he watches you meet each thrust of his brother’s fingers. A hand traveled lower from your jaw to grasp fully at your throat, fingers wrapping around and squeezing. “You can take some more, right baby?” Your eyes fluttered, barely able to nod while he was holding onto you like this, mouth dropping open.

Rindou pressed his thumb against your nub, unable to move you had no choice but to take the stimulation--spit pooling at the corners of your mouth the same way tears did in your eyes. “R-Rindou-aah, please” You begged, though your brain couldn’t conceptualize why. A harsh smack to your ass left you squealing. “I’m here too, pretty.” You could hear the jealousy in Ran’s voice, and you knew you were right when you saw Rindou smirking. “Do better and maybe she won’t forget.” A slew of curses left Ran’s mouth before smacking at your ass again. “S-sorry! I’m sorry, Ran, I didn’t forget--honest.” You whimpered, doing your best to turn away from Rindou and crane your neck to look at Ran over your shoulder. “Aw, I know sweetheart. Gimme a kiss.” You occupied yourself with kissing Ran, who kissed you much slower than his counterpart. While Rindou was a wildfire, Ran was like flowing water. He kissed you slow and steady, taking his time to lick at your mouth and taste you. While Rindou was overwhelming, Ran was dizzying. Regardless of who was on you at any moment, they made you feel just as good.

Ran kept you distracted enough for Rindou to push his ring and middle finger into your cunt alongside his brother’s fingers--filling you and stretching more than they had in the past. “Oh fuck” You breathed out, trying yout best to keep up with Ran but Rindou was shoving himself into you so harshly already it was difficult to breathe. Rindou’s fingers were thicker than the elder brother, filling you up as Ran’s fingers hit deep. Ran let you go, and you turned down to see Rindou’s fingers pumping in and out of you, juices oozing onto his fingers with each fuck. Your forehead hit his chest, a hand reaching back and grasping at Ran’s wrist for some sick form of grounding--spreading your legs more to give them easier access to your sloppy pussy. “S’this feel good, baby?” Rindou questioned, curling his fingers towards that gummy spot in your cunt. “A-ah, yeah, fuck, yeah” You whimpered, clenching around their sets of fingers. Ran laughed behind you, “Yeah? Like when we fuck you with our fingers, angel? You want more?” Nodding against Rindou’s chest, they removed their fingers from your cunt--creaminess covering their hands. “Look at that~” Ran whistled, making a show of spreading his fingers and letting your stickiness web between them. He turned your head towards the camera, and the brother’s chuckled seeing how fucked out you looked in the camera. “Lick ‘em clean, beautiful.” Ran spoke first, presenting his fingers in front of your face as you greedily sucked at them, taking them deep into your mouth to the knuckle and making sure you sucked them clean. You watched yourself in the front camera lapping at his digits, clenching your pussy around air. When Ran pulled his fingers out you immediately turned to Rindou and stuck your tongue out--expectantly. “What a good girl you are” He teased, shoving his fingers into your mouth until you gagged, and turned you to face the camera again. “Go ahead baby.” Stray tears fell down your cheeks as you licked around his spread fingers tasting yourself on him.

Ran moved off the bed to bring the phone closer, now on the night stand as he laid down, bringing you with him. You understood immediately what he wanted, and lined yourself up to his cock as he filmed you lowering yourself. He bit his tongue holding back a moan while your pretty sounds filled the air, steadying yourself on his chest before your arms are ripped back behind you. “Come on baby, you can do it right?” Rindou taunted, kissing at your shoulders while you kept a steady pace bouncing on Ran’s cock. The older brother had the camera right at your hole, watching the way your pussy swallowed him up and drooled around the corners with your juices. His free hand held onto your hip, Rindou pulling you back to lean more against him as Ran started meeting each bounce on his lap with a thrust of his own, a webbing of white covering his dick each time he pulled out. “Fuck baby, look so good taking my cock. You think you can take another one?” You weren’t sure you understood, and before you had time to think more about the question the phone was placed back down on the stand and Rindou pushed you towards the other, Ran grabbing at your face and making a scene of kissing you sloppy in view of the camera. “Look at yourself, pretty baby.” He whispered against your ear, holding you by the jaw towards the camera when you started feeling Rindou prodding at your already stretched out cunt with his own cock. Your eyes squeezed closed with your brows scrunched, mouth hanging open as he pushed himself into your hole alongside Ran. “Ooh my god, fuck! S’much, wait--wait it’s so much!” You cried out, Ran slapping you lightly on your cheek to get your attention.

“Open your eyes, pretty girl. Look at yourself while you get fucked by us.” Your eyes were fuzzy, unable to fully focus as you watched yourself drool, tongue lolling out and tears rolling down your cheeks as Rindou filled you inch by inch. You should be embarrassed, feel shame as they made you watch yourself like this--being used by two dangerous men. But you couldn’t feel anything except turned on, looking at your own reflection drooling and crying uncontrollably on their cocks filling you more than they ever have. You subconsciously tightened your walls around them, and their groans filled the air. “Fuck! So fucking horny watching yourself, huh baby?” Rindou snickered, leaning over and angling the camera to your lower bodies, pulling you up for a clear angle of both cocks pumping in and out of your pussy. Just like you did Ran’s, Rindou’s cock was covered in your creamy cunt, squelching and gushing with each pap, pap, pap of their cocks fucking up into you. You couldn’t do much but take it, sobbing with overwhelming pleasure as they used you like a sleeve. Rindou’s fingers came around your front to rub and pinch at your swollen nub, and in no time he had you crying out and creaming over them, each push in and pull out of their cocks leaving with a squish. Ran’s hands had a strong grip on your hips as he fucked up into you, and last minute pulling out to cum on your tummy, painting your front white with his cum.

With only Rindou now inside your cunt he quickened his pace and fucked you harder, tugging at your biceps and pulling your arms back as leverage. Ran moved the phone again, for full access to your body and face as the younger brother left you a mess. “Ready for me, baby?” He grunted behind you and you nodded with a sob, suddenly feeling him leave your pussy and make a mess on your ass, grabbing the phone from his brother and recording him slap his cock on your ass, smearing his mess around. Giving the phone back, Ran recorded up to your face now. “Smile at the camera, pretty girl.” Panting, you looked up at yourself again in the phone, lazy smile playing on your lips--fucked stupid. Ran scooped his cum on a finger while you were still watching yourself and lifted it to your mouth, watching you lick him clean and sticking your tongue out as proof.

He stopped the recording and Rindou lowered you onto the bed, mumbling to himself how ‘gross’ it was to share a hole like that with his brother. “Whatever dude--she felt good.” Ran called over to the younger Haitani as he left to grab something to wipe you down with. “You good, baby?” He whispered to you, smoothing down your hair as you nodded with a smile. He fiddled with his phone as Rindou wiped you clean, kissing your forehead and praising how good of a job you did for them. His phone pinged, before Ran spoke saying “Sent it to you.” When he finally took a look he saw it was in the group chat they had with Sanzu, snapping his head up to look at his brother who already had a grin like the devil and shrugged.

“Oops.”

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lalunanymph · 11 months ago

Text

BLACKMAIL KISS — h. ran

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── a single night of rebellion against your husband, the mayor of Tokyo, in an underground Roppongi club, traps you right in Haitani Ran's web of blackmail and deceit—where every move you make could potentially be your last one.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── a bonten!haitani ran miniseries inspired by hametsu no itte

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bonten timeline, fem!reader, wife!reader, reader is feminine coded (wears dresses, heels, makeup), heavy tones of cheating/infidelity, DARK CONTENT, blackmail, political drama, non-con recording, drugging, mentions of cigarettes, mentions of alcohol & drugs, edging training, tease and denial, orgasm control, phone sex, petnames (princess, good girl, whore, slut), coercion, reader is forced to take nudes, HEAVY TOPICS PROCEED WITH CAUTION

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bittersweet blackmail with this playlist

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── masterlist

#1: i made another mistake

As a child, growing up with any lack of good direction or faith gave Haitani Ran an almost scary sixth sense when a person was completely foreign to his world of sin and greed.

Ran liked to think it was also his entire adult life spent in Kanto Manji, and now, Bonten which helped him discern the different types of brokenness in this messed up world.

It was a game he played with himself; observing the way some of them walked—an errant glance away or a quirk which would draw his sleepy-sharp lilac eyes to their floundering presence. He could almost always tell which girls in his club were the runaways. The druggies. The ones with abusive boyfriends. Sometimes, he liked to make a bet with his brother, Rindou, and see which one of them could get close enough—fast enough—to fuck the truth out of these crummy girls.

But, in all fairness, Ran’s game must be growing weak because the woman who had just entered his club was a complete enigma.

The taste of Hennesy was strong on his tongue; his hand clawing the warming glass with an uncharacteristic tension. Mikey had just expressed his suspicions of a mole in the organisation this afternoon, and Ran was on edge from figuring out which of the newly onboarded goons seemed the most suspicious.

In his heightened state of paranoia, he couldn’t be faulted for immediately spotting you from his perch in the VIP room the very second you stepped in.

Neatly styled hair, with press on nails clutching a small Balenciaga bag to your chest. A dress which fitted you perfectly and looked to be cut from a designer’s hand.

You definitely weren't the usual type of girl who swam with the sharks in these tanks. And so, the infamous older Haitani brother called over one of his men, nodding in your direction. “Keep an eye on the prissy one. She doesn’t look like she belongs here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His bodyguard bowed, exiting down to keep an eye on this suspicious young woman who had caught his underboss’ attention. Ran lit up a cigarette, wishing he had something stronger with him besides menthol sticks when he noticed you crossing paths with someone in the middle of the dance floor. His eyes were quick to catch it.

A cordial nod. Something passed in a tiny ziplock bag into your hand.

Your smile which fractured a bouncing neon light across your surprisingly white teeth.

Ran immediately stood up, cigarette clenched between his teeth. Maybe this kind of attitude would cut it in other territories, but the King of Roppongi would never allow such an offence right under his nose. The people of this neonscape should only be taking meth from his supplies and his supplies only.

This could result in a potential gang war once word leaks out.

Ran took matters into his own hands, stubbing out his cigarette, beckoning another guard to him.

“Bring her up,” he pointed towards you. “And tell her the boss of the club wants to meet her up here for drinks. But, don’t scare her. I don’t want too much trouble tonight.”

The goon nodded, marching out of the room. Ran pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging it firmly. Already, he could hear your protests coming up the stairs, and mentally braced himself to thoroughly search you. This was going to be a long night.

“—I’m innocent!”

“He just wants to have drinks with you, miss.”

“But, I can order it downstairs—”

“—just for a minute, miss—”

“I have a husband—”

Feisty. Ran was intrigued by your fire. Without warning, he stood up and pried the VIP door open, stumbling you into a halt mid-tirade. After years of honing his charisma and working on his natural good looks, Ran sensed more than knew when a woman was succumbing to his charms. Their wide eyes would inevitably look him up and down, like you did, lingering on his broad chest, the slicked-back lilac hair. The piercing purple gaze and the sharp, handsome lines of his face.

He plastered on his most charming smile. “You must be the woman who has captured my attention. Please—join me for a drink.” His presence was dazzling, like a Venus Flytrap opening up boldly and brightly to seduce its bug-eyed prey before devouring them.

You were taken by the hand, deep into the heart of Roppongi’s most notorious club. Like entering a lion’s den, you didn’t know where to look first—the seedy velvet couches, the lines of white still dotting the glass tables, or the sight of empty gun holsters upturned carelessly on the cushion seats.

Ran sensed your increasing panic and slung a long arm around your shoulder, drawing you deeper into his side. “Don’t be afraid,” he grinned, all sharp knives for teeth and false promises. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you here. I promise.” You looked like you didn’t believe him, not for one second, and Ran rushed forward to introduce himself, playing the part of the flustered club owner who was enamoured by you.

“My name is Haitani. Ran Haitani. I couldn’t help but notice someone like you entering my club and I just had to know you.”

“Why?” you were sceptical. Disbelieving.

Ran hummed. From the corner of his eye, his bodyguard was tapping away on his screen, pretending to look bored when everyone in the room knew he had the most important job of all. It wasn’t hard to coax you into the velvet seat—you looked like you would bolt at any second, but at the mention of gin on the house, you visibly relaxed.

There was a look to you that was familiar, Ran decided. You had a face someone would’ve seen somewhere in magazines. Pretty, but not pretentious. Just conventionally attractive enough to hold his eye but not to indulge in it. Someone like a Chief of Justice’s wife, or a President’s mistress. Maybe he shouldn’t think so lowly of your position just because you were here—you could’ve been a CEO of your own company, except most girl bosses he knew would be asleep at this time of the night to prepare for another day in their obnoxious offices.

You sipped on a glass, careful to keep a distance from him. Ran noticed your lips never fully touched the glass rim, like you had practised all of your life to not leave a mark anywhere you went.

Most definitely someone related to a politician. His mind was racing, sifting through the sudden wickedness arising in his putrid thoughts.

A daddy’s girl turned rebellious. A trust fund granddaughter looking to blow off steam.

Something about you was familiar. And, you had mentioned a husband.

Ran pursed his lips, and he was about to straight up ask you who you were, when his bodyguard passed him the phone he had been casually typing on. Those sleepy lilac eyes widened infinitesimally, his breathing stuttering.

He had seen your name before—it rang in the recesses of his memory.

But, that would mean…

Tsunake. Tsunake Y/N.

It seemed like fate decided to extend a kind hand the years he spent trying to avenge his one and only best friend.

Ran’s grin became predatory—tinged with a hint of excitement.

“So… what’s the mayor’s wife doing in this part of the town?”

Having blown your cover off, Ran was left with your comically alarmed expression. You nervously set your glass down, tittering through tight, red lips. “What makes you think I have a reason to be here?”

Without warning, he slung his arm around your waist. It happened too fast—fading into a blur. One second, you thought he was going to force himself on you, and before you could even scream, this mysterious man had managed to flip open your purse and pry out the ziplock pouch of drugs.

“H-hey—!”

“Ecstasy,” Ran pried open the bag, taking one sniff of the contents. “Mixed with a little bit of molly. Are you looking to have a cardiac arrest tonight, Princess?”

You bristled, baring your teeth. Despite being filled with two glasses of gin, you were surprisingly still sprightly on your feet. “Give that back,” you muttered hotly, glaring daggers into his skull. “It’s none of your fucking business what I take—you have no right to search me like that.”

“Oh, but I do.” Standing to his full height, Ran resisted smirking when you flinched and took a step back, bowed by his sheer size that towered over you. “I’m the owner of this club, sweetheart, and thanks to your stupidity, I now have you recorded through CCTVs picking up a trade on the dancefloor. I’m sure your husband—the Mayor of Tokyo—would hate to see pictures of his sweet wife blowing up in the tabloids in the middle of a buyoff, would he?”

The fire in your eyes dimmed, and if it was possible, even your diamond earrings dangling from your lobes lost their lustre. “You… how did you know?”

Ran shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”

A snarl decorated your blush red lips. “Are you blackmailing me?”

This time, Ran couldn’t help but grin. “You catch on fast.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to another, your withering gaze alternated between faux contempt and dread. Your mind worked quickly, Ran observed. Those pretty eyes darted back and forth, between the languid stances of his men trained to lunge at your throat in a moment’s notice, to the gangly, smug man who held your reputation in his depraved hands.

“What do you need me to do?”

You expected him to list off money and favours, not to snort and say, “What do you think I would want?”

“If it’s money you’re looking for, you won’t find it with me. My husband is not the generous kind,” you argued back hotly.

“Pass. Not what I had in mind.”

You wracked your brain. “I don’t have many connections outside of my home. I can’t give you political leverage and my husband doesn’t listen to me.” Your hands were beginning to sweat, hoping with all your might he bought your shoddy lie. Ran appeared like he didn’t.

“Come on. A husband who doesn't listen to his wife? Impossible.”

Sauntering towards you, his grin was a cocky curve standing out from the garish neon lights. Those half-mast eyes held a surprising gleam of reprehensible intent when they bore straight into your wide ones. “You’re lying to me. I bet you had to sneak out of your own castle to get here, Princess.”

He wasn’t wrong. You bit down on your tongue to avoid blurting out those incriminating words. “I told you. I don’t have the kind of power and influence you’re looking for.”

“Well,” Ran tilted his head to the side. “Seems like we’re at an impasse here. But, no matter. I’ve learned a lot in this life, Princess. And one thing that I can’t deny? How someone’s hand can move their own fate if they tried hard enough… or, they’re given a big enough shitstorm to wade through.”

You almost asked him what he meant when he pressed a hand onto your bare waist. The cold from his silver rings seeped into your skin, and you would’ve jerked backwards into the wall if it wasn’t for his grip tightening around you.

“Easy,” Ran murmured, pinning those heavy eyes onto you. He looked like he would’ve nodded off to sleep if you hadn’t felt the steel in his grip—how easily he could overpower you. “I’m not here to hurt you. I want you to trust me.”

Trust him? You almost spat back how stupid that idea was when he was steering you back to the velvet couches. Passing you a drink, he pressed it firmly into your hand with more force than necessary, and you sensed that you had no choice in refusing his offer.

Ran tipped his glass to clink yours, downing his gin and tonic in one go. You tentatively sipped on yours, wincing at the alcohol burn when it went down. The music changed, and without much reason why, the room felt more at ease. Those guards went back to their corners, playing poker, talking loudly, laughing rowdily. None of them were paying you two any attention, and even the lights felt warmer somehow. More welcoming.

You felt pleasantly sleepy, and Ran took your glass before it could spill onto the carpeted ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, tired,” you slurred, slumping forward to rest your head on his shoulder. He smelled nice—like warmed vanilla bourbon on a rainy day. “I dunno why. I think I need to… to close my eyes…”

You had no idea how you ended up in his lap. Why his lips were on yours, tongue slowly tangling with yours in the deepest kiss of your life. You tasted the gin he downed, skin and something musky which reminded you of sweaty bodies writhing together. It made you wet; made you gasp into his mouth which heatedly spilled hoarse praises right down your throat. You were gripping his hair, his shoulders, his jacket. Trying to find an anchor to the sensations threatening to drag you under.

Ran kissed down your neck, sucking and mouthing on the skin hard enough that you could feel throbbing marks left behind.

“Can I touch you?” he breathed into the shell of your ear. You had no idea what compelled you to nod, but the second you did, his hand was between your legs, prying the seat of your thong aside.

He cursed under his breath when he felt how slick you were; how your folds were all glistening and ready just for him.

You started to rock your hips needily, little whimpers trickling past your clenched teeth. “Ran… Ran…”

His name sounded like a chime—a mantra you repeated over and over again as your thighs shook and your head lolled back. His slender, nimble fingers were too good. They were made for edging a girl right to a cresting orgasm; those cold rings touching your heated flesh left goosebumps at their wake, the contrasting sensations enough to make you even dizzier.

“Ran—” you cried out, back arching and clutching his hair in your death grip. He kissed the rise of your chest, sticky and glittering with sweat.

“Cum for me,” he murmured, hooking his finger against a tender spot inside of you which made your hips twitch—a minute tick signalling your desperation. “Let go for me, Princess.”

Every fibre of your being held no resistance; falling for his silky command. You remembered the searing heat, the tears beading on your lash line, how your hips were rocking to his mesmerising fingers which bullied more pleasure into your wrecked body.

Ran kissed you deeply while you came all over his fingers, your sobs and gasps reverberating around the strangely still room.

The last thing you heard was his voice in your ear, asking if he should call you a cab, and the next, your eyelids fluttered shut, the entire world going black.

You felt more than heard someone coming into a room.

Blinking your eyes awake, a weight settled at the foot of a soft bed, shirtless except for a pair of boxers clinging around his narrow hips. Silvery pale moonlight brushed strokes of pearlescent streaks on his inked torso, and slowly, the half-body of a dragon was coming into focus. Rushing to your senses, you gasped, sitting up, patting every inch of your body only to find you were still in your sparkly dress from last night.

“Morning, sunshine,” Ran mused, turning towards you with a cheeky grin on his handsome face. In your throes of deciphering the tattoos on his torso, you hadn’t noticed the ink at the base of his throat—a geometrical design which looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite remember where you had seen it before.

“Where am I?” your hoarse voice sounded crass even to your own ears. You cleared your throat, and he passed you a glass of water by his bedside table.

“My penthouse,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious answer. “I took you home after you passed out on top of me.”

Blinking, you set the glass down. A crawling sensation was growing in the back of your throat, slithering down your belly and settling right in the base of your body frozen to this bed. You glanced at the doors, windows and crevices of this room, looking for a place to hide—to run.

You had no idea what this man could want with you, but you sensed it was nothing good.

As if he could read your uneasy thoughts, Ran chuckled. “I’m not here to hurt you. After all, I already got what I wanted from you.”

Before you could prod deeper, Ran pulled up his phone, tapping on the screen. A grainy video of you straddling his lap while he kissed you with feverish lust came up, and you watched, struck with horror as your entire body fell apart for him, crying out his name with your toes curled in the periphery and back arched. All while you were already married to another man.

“No—” you swiped at the phone and he held it back, standing up tall and dangling it over your head.

Tears streaked down your face, joined with snot and a cacophony of your bitter protests. “Please, don’t do this!”

Your bleats barely phased him; after all, Ran Haitani was a man who had many begging at his feet to spare them or give them their sanity back. “No.”

The word devastated you, and you swore you felt your soul break into two. If word of this ever reached back to your husband…

District elections were just around the corner and your husband’s record had to be spotless. Any word of your actions tonight in the club, or even a whiff of your involvement with a man such as Ran, would ruin the airtight politically perfect reputation he had.

I have to protect him. You tried to make a grab for the phone again, but Ran jerked it away, shark-like grin growing wider, amused by this little game you two were playing.

“Ran, please—”

“I won’t tell him,” the bastard promised, a purple cowlick falling against his smooth forehead. Those neatly plucked brows furrowed together, and you could sense a ‘but’ somewhere behind his false reassurances. “But—I want you to do something for me.”

Here it was. In your mind, you pictured bribes. judging from his gang tattoo—shipments of drugs. A place to hide dead bodies.

You never expected what he would’ve said next.

“I want you to try and stop your husband from raiding our warehouses.”

Stupefied, your shoulders slumped forward. Tears beaded in your lash line. “How do you expect me to do that? I told you, he doesn’t listen to me—”

“Mayor Tsunake is a reasonable man,” Ran eyed you down the length of his nose. “Don’t you think so, Mrs. Tsunake?”

The sound of your married name coming from his rancid lips made you want to hurtle a fist right into his smug face. But, you sensed more than knew that Ran was a fucked up man in a position of high power—any sign of your rebellion will be met with consequences you couldn’t begin to fathom.

You eyed the tattoo on his neck again. “I can’t make that promise. I’m sorry,” you added, hoping he would let you go and forget about this entire night. All you wanted to do was head back home, ransack your alcohol supply and drink the memories of this horrible meeting away. Maybe you were locked in a dream—tucked safely in your Queen-sized bed while your imagination presented you with your worst nightmare.

But, this was more than just a figment of your nighttime terrors. Ran was real. This shitstorm you were in was real.

And it was waiting for you to step into its eye.

You swallowed. “What else do you want?”

Ran’s smirk tightened around the edges. “Good girl. I knew you would see reason.” Putting his phone down on the bed, he patted the edge, asking you without words to sit next to him. The mattress sank under both of your weight, and you kept a distance from him, jaw tight and fists balled on your lap.

One heavily ringed hand reached towards you, and you tried not to flinch when he gently patted your cheek.

“I want you to make yourself available to me. I’ve slept with plenty of women before, but never a mayor’s wife. It’s thrilling—this joy of trying not to get caught.” Those nimble fingers formed a loose cage around your throat, flexing them as if he were taken by a sudden, raunchy memory. “You were such a little slut in the club,” he crooned. “I want to push you harder—see what you’re capable of. All while you don’t let Mr. Mayor himself hear a peep from our little agreement, hmm?”

Heat soused down your spine, dusting your cheeks. I’m dreaming. You were in a complete daze. I must be dreaming because this isn’t real.

“Why are you doing this?” was all you could whisper, trying not to lapse into a tearful rage; your roaring emotions held behind a glass wall. You felt like the entire world could smell your shame—judge your stupidity.

Ran moved his hand down the column of your throat, skimming just above the rise of your left breast. He palmed it without a single word, satisfied how you squirmed in distress but didn’t make a move to stop his groping. Fondling the plump flesh, he squeezed it, flickering those lackadaisical lilac eyes to your mortified expression.

“Why?” He asked nonchalantly, slowly playing with your stiffening nipple underneath the flimsy silk and lace. The sharp edge of his thumb nail dragged along the perky bud, and he flicked it once, as if reprimanding your instant arousal. You flinched, soft gasp echoing around the spacious room, and his grin widened.

“Well, why not?”

Waking up alone in your large mansion, your entire body felt too heavy.

After the events of last night, you had stumbled back home, tiptoeing past the maids’ rooms, careful to not wake anyone before you succumbed to your deluge of raging sobs.

You must’ve fallen asleep sometime in the middle of your temper tantrum.

The space beside you was empty, and Makko must’ve still been out with his entire PR team, strategizing his winning message to blaze through campaign season. You barely noticed his absence last night—who would’ve thought a single excursion out to relieve your tension of being the perfect political wife resulted in your ensnaring tanglement with a dangerous, dark man.

Picking up your phone, you squinted at the sudden bright light on the screen, finding an unknown message.

It was an attachment, and you dread pooled deep in your belly when you read the text.

Until next time — H.R

Tapping open the picture, you nearly choked on your spit when you noticed your thong peeking through his clenched fist which was casually resting on the half of his inked chest. Your eyes burned as they scanned through the dips and divots of his muscles, and your throat ran dry, remembering how he had moved your body in ways you hadn’t expected a stranger could.

It was like he knew you—knew what you liked and what you wanted.

Without warning, his next text chimed in.

Are you awake?

He was waiting for an answer.

Heart in your throat, you texted back.

Yes, I am.

His reply came a second later. Good. Take off your clothes if you’re wearing any and lay back in bed.

Glancing at your modest cotton nightgown, you felt a shiver run down your spine which had nothing to do with the wind-free AC humming above you.

Why?

His answer was instantaneous.

Why not? Or did you forget our agreement?

The video. He was dangling it over your head like your deepest scarlet letter—goading you to deny him so he could make your marriage and husband’s career burn. It was with this single note of love towards the man whose ring was on your finger that you followed his instructions.

Once you were naked and lying back on your bed, you texted him a terse:

I did what you asked.

Send a picture.

The humiliation could’ve skinned you alive, but you complied. Angling your phone high up so your face was cut off, you snapped a picture of your bare body and sent it to another man who wasn’t your husband as you were perched right on your marital bed, fighting back the urge to find that bastard and kick him right in the balls.

Ran replied a second later.

Good girl. I’m going to call you now.

Without another second to spare, your phone vibrated.

You quickly grabbed your wireless buds, slotting them into your ears and pressed answer.

“Those sheets look comfortable,” he hummed, as a way of greeting. Your sour silence made him laugh. “Oh, lighten up. At least look a little happy. I did give you a huge orgasm last night.”

Ran was shirtless, the dips of his collarbones gleaming in the low light of what appeared to be his bedroom—the tattoo on his throat strikingly dark and haunting. His duvet was a downy white colour, the pillows under his head plush and inviting.

You spared a glance at your locked door before flitting your gaze back to his half-mast purple eyes. “What do you want?”

Ran hummed. “Is your husband there?”

Your brow furrowed, and he had his answer.

“Angle the camera to your pussy. Show me how you touch yourself.” Your minute hesitation earned you a hard glare. “Now, Y/N. Or, yesterday night’s video will be in the mayor’s inbox in less than 5 minutes.”

The tattoo gleaming from his throat made you shiver, and you hastened to follow his orders. Lifting your phone and balancing it on your sternum, you aimed the camera right between your legs, thighs still chastely clasped together.

“Good girl,” he purred. “Now, spread your folds. Touch yourself.”

You obeyed him, like a puppet to a demented master—you touched yourself for Haitani Ran to enjoy, your forced submission a feast which he devoured upon. Ran’s breathing grew heavier from the other end of the line, and you heard the hitch in his groan when you parted your slick folds, showing off the strands of arousal webbing in between your middle and index fingers.

“Taste yourself.”

Your cheeks burned, and humiliation once again trampled all over your common sense to put a stop to this. In a sick, twisted way, the pain of not having control over your own body—your own reactions—was downright heady.

A blissful buzz hummed in your mind, and you barely gave another lucid thought before your fingers were stuck down your throat, lapping at your own sweet and salty nectar. Ran couldn’t see you deepthroating your own digits, but he heard the soft squelch of your tongue and mouth.

“Fuck—touch yourself again.”

His command was met with little resistance. You rubbed your clit, mouth falling open, your soft pants filling the space of this luscious bedroom.

“Are you close?” Ran’s husky voice filled your ears, and you suddenly came to the realisation of how pleasant his voice sounded. Not too brash or low. Just the right amount of husky and baritone.

“Mhm,” you murmured. So far, you hadn’t moaned or mewled—too stubborn to let yourself admit to your body’s baser needs and how Ran was adeptly pleasuring you, even when he was far away. You kept your teeth clamped onto your lower lip, only allowing yourself a few trembling breaths.

“I can see your hips twitching.” His voice was going to drive you insane. “Look at how hard those nipples are. They’re so aroused.” You glanced down at the buds straining in the cool air, and something about his casual observations on your body made your walls clench—sucking in your fingers deeper.

Without warning, a soft moan slipped past your clenched teeth.

Ran was quick to react—to swallow down on your shame. “What was that? Is the little slut getting turned on from this? That’s pathetic. I’m not even touching you.” He continued with his parade of casual cruelty, making you feel both small and desirable. “Come on. Moan for me again. You can show me you’re a whore again, yeah?”

What is wrong with me? It was like you had zero control over yourself; your body was responding to such blatant degradation—nipples circling and hips twitching. You could taste your orgasm in the back of your throat.

“Mhm!” you cried out, glad he wasn’t here to see your mouth falling further open, or the saliva pooling down the corner of your lips. “S-Shit…”

Your hips had a life of their own; they swirled, twitched and pushed against your furious fingers, pumping to try and take you down your high. You’ve never squirmed this badly for a man—never shamelessly moaned for him to release you from ecstasy’s hostage.

“Please,” you gasped out. Ran chuckled softly. “I-I need—”

“No,” his voice, silky smooth, was deceptively drenched with pity. “You can’t come, baby. You know I won’t give you that so easily. Stop touching.”

Your fingers couldn't seem to cooperate. Your whine was saturated with absolute need. “Wh-why? Please…”

“No. Stop right now or I’ll release the video.”

That threat was enough to throw cold water on your arousal, and you immediately ripped your hand away from your thighs, crying out softly in protest and embarrassment. Ran was quiet as your pants turned into ragged breaths, your thighs twitching like someone was running aftershocks through your veins.

“Turn the camera back to your face.”

You knew better than to disobey him. The second the front camera switched on, you almost flinched in shock. Your eyes were red-rimmed, like you had been crying—they were wide and glossy, not a hint of defensiveness in them. It was like Ran had stripped you free of your prickliness, leaving you in a ball of your own vulnerability. The shame and hormones coasting in your system left your cheeks flushed and mouth wet with spit.

You looked like a woman who had been purely ravaged, all desperate and teary.

Ran, in contrast, barely had a hair out of place. He still wore that same easy smirk, though the apples of his cheeks were a bit pinker than you recalled.

“Go and take a picture of yourself and send it to me. I’ll be waiting, Y/N.” He didn’t give you a chance to protest, clicking the call off and leaving you stewing in your thoughts.

Your mind was on overdrive, the tips of your fingers tingling. Ran must’ve given you a choice to send in the picture when he left you alone to your devices; as a way for him to gauge how serious you took his threat.

The burning shame pooled in the back of your eyelids, and you let your head fall back into the pillows, exhaling a hitched breath that sounded almost like a sob.

Why is he doing this? What does he want?

Ran had taken your body through the wringer; testing both your patience and determination to protect your husband’s reputation at the expense of your sanity.

But, was it worth it?

The ticking clock on your wall counted down your minutes of procrastination. Ran had never mentioned when he expected you to send in the picture—did he want it now? A spike of anxiety clobbered your chest. Oh god, what if he had been expecting it a few minutes ago and was already about to send the video of you grinding on his fingers to your poor, loyal husband?

Quickly, you sprang to your feet, ignoring the throb of neglect between your thighs to pose in front of the mirror. The morning sun splayed itself across your bare stomach, speckling across your chest and arms. In this angle, you were an erotic painting come to life; the spark of desire you felt had dimmed after all these years of being the steadfast, politically stable wife was flickering back up into a small flame, deep within your chest.

What is happening to me? Your thoughts were in a spiral as you angled your body, showing off your shapeliness and the feminine submissiveness dripping down your thighs. Am I going insane?

You snapped one photo. Then two, for good measure. You kept your face hidden by your phone, smartly avoiding any chance of recognition.

Tapping on the screen, you sent the photos to his number, praying he wouldn’t ask you for more—to push yourself further for his sick, pervasive delight. But, your hopes were dashed when he replied a second later, with a string of terse instructions.

I want your face in them, Y/N. Kneel on the bed and spread your thighs. Take a higher angled photo so your face is in it. Do not disappoint me again.

Unbidden, you felt like shards of glass were stabbing your soul.

Do not disappoint me again.

If your shame could be seen, it would be curling its shoulders into itself—whether out of self-preservation or despondency, you dared not uncover.

But, you followed his instructions clearly. The photo came out better than you hoped for. Your flushed folds were the centre of attention, your fleshy clit fully out in the open as a reminder of your denied orgasm pulsing through you.

Your expression, however, was the one which took you completely by surprise. There was open want in the curve of your brow, how your lips parted to reveal a glossy ring of spit. Shame and desperation shone from your eyes, giving you a coquette look which you hadn’t expected to see from a woman of your age.

You wanted to touch yourself—hoped he would be kind enough to give you your release when he saw that you were trying. You were trying to be good for Ran; you were trying to follow his orders the best you could.

His response came a second later.

Good girl. I want you to repeat this again tomorrow. And again the day after. Deny yourself for me, and take a picture for me every time you do. Don’t cum until I give you permission to.

Dread coursed through your veins, heady and pure. Did he expect you to never experience pleasure? What about if your husband fucked you and you accidentally came? The horror solidified in your stomach like a cold, festering fist. It was impossible to do this to you—to control you so harshly when your life was never his to own in the first place.

Anger came next—coarse and bitter. Who did Haitani Ran think he was to blackmail and push you around? You were the mayor’s wife. You could get a cop on his ass faster than anyone in the district could. If you wanted to destroy his life, all you could do was lift a finger and it would be done.

But, as if he could read your mind, his response came in, timely and concise.

I would advise you to not let anyone know you’re fucking a Bonten executive. It won’t look good for your husband’s records.

Bonten. The fear crested, taking you down under. You dropped your phone onto the bed, slapping a palm to your mouth.

Bonten. No wonder the tattoo under his neck was familiar—you had seen it before in your husband’s civil report, under the tab Illegal establishments: Yakuzas.

Bonten.

Japan’s most feared organised crime syndicate.

A ruthless band of unknown men who controlled the vast underworld with a tight, iron fist. This is bad, you started to heave, the panic clamping down on your throat. This is really, really bad.

Before you could spiral into your mind and start panicking, your screen flashed with another message, this one solidifying how utterly fucked your situation was; how you had unwittingly ruined your own life in one single, careless night.

Don’t forget that your orgasms belong to me now, slut. This is our little secret now.

Shit.

Just what exactly had you gotten yourself into?

#ran x reader #ran smut #ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x you #bonten #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #series: blackmail kiss #🦢 writes

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macsimagines · 1 year ago

Text

Ex-boyfriend & Yandere!Ran Haitani

(This is my best one guys i really like it. Please tell me what you think my ask box is open!!! Ms.Mac)

TW: Stalking, gaslighting, abuse, murder Unhinged behavior

Leaving Ran wasn't easy. He never took you seriously when you kept trying to tell him you were done.

Would still show up at your place demanding sex or somewhere to crash after partying too hard.

Its like he wasn't letting you break up with him. You kept trying to make it clear you were over it and he'd just reel you back in with empty promises and sweet lies.

But then he'd go and be an asshole and smack your ass infront of his friends or call you mean names...flirt with other girls in front of you...

You're done officially. You don't even tell him in person, just shoot him a text and move out of your apartment and out of Roppongi.

You choose to block him on all platforms, change your number, you're literally cutting out every piece of him.

Of course, you're not that lucky. It only takes a week or two but he eventually shows up at your apartment demanding to know what shit you think your pulling now.

A fight ensues, you yell and he yells then you're crying and he really thinks he's slick when he tries to hug you. But you shove him away and tell him you want out of this relationship.

The way he looks at you after that is down right unsettling, but he asks you for sex. He really does ask you for "one more unforgettable night." to seal the deal.

Despite all the red flags in your gut, you cave. Anything to get rid of Ran Haitani forever.

Its great. Its actually some of the best sex of your life. It leaves a giant hole in your chest though.

You tell him no kissing, and he actually looks like he might cry, but if he can't kiss your lips he's kissing every other part of you. He treats you like an actual partner. The way he caresses your body burns from how soft it is and the way he whispers about how much he loves you and can't live without you makes you want to cry.

You just want him to fuck you and get it over with, but, the bastard, decides that for the first time during your last time he'll actually treat you like a lover.

When it's all finished Ran lays with you for an hour. You're turned away from him waiting for him to just leave. "This it then? You ain't got shit to fuckin' say to me?"

Fighting back tears you nod. This was a mistake. You can tell from the tone in his voice.

He leans in real close right above your ear and whispers; "You're never gonna have someone like me, you'll never find what we have again. I'm gonna make sure of it, Y/N."

When he finally goes he slams the door behind him and everything in the apartment rattles with the force of it.

And you lie awake that night in fear and heartbreak because you know Ran meant what he said.

It's months before you feel normal again, you've got this weird pit in your stomach that someone's watching you and at night you can feel eyes while you sleep. Things disappear from your apartment and you're starting to feel paranoid.

But eventually your friends convince you its all in your head. Soon you start going out again and trying to meet people.

Keyword trying. It's always one date and then they ghost you, you can't even get a hookup. Maybe people can tell you have too much baggage.

Finally in desperation you go out to a bar. You've got an itch and you're hoping at least one stupid fling will officially make you move on from Ran Haitani.

You meet someone and you're too drunk to care what he looks like, you don't care that his cologne is so pungent it makes you wanna gag, you don't care that he's not even going to take you to a love hotel he's just got you in an alley, you don't care that it's not Ran.

His lips are on your neck and you close your eyes. You try to picture a handsome man, maybe an idol you saw on TV but that doesn't help at all. You pray to god he just finishes quickly but then thankfully you don't feel his lips on your skin.

For one blessed second you hope he lost interest and just left you alone. But when you open your eyes you see a literal ghost.

You almost don't recognize him with his hair dyed and cut so short but its... Ran Haitani.

He's on top of the man beating him to death. The sickening sound of his fists hitting bloodied wet skin is resonating in the alley way.

You can't even stutter out one word too terrified and shocked at the sight before you. Ran has never looked this way before. Just a snarl on his face and his eyes wide and crazed.

When he's done, after the other man has stopped making any noise, dear god is he dead, he looks at you. His eyes are blood red and unfocused. His whole body is shaking but he stumbles towards you on unsteady legs.

Finally, you get your senses a little too late, You try to make a run for it but he's grabbing you and shoving you against the wall. His bloody hands on either side of your face looking you dead in the eyes.

You get a good look at him, the hair isn't the only thing that's changed he doesn't look like he's slept in weeks.

"That's fuckin' it, Y/N," he whispers, voice cracking, "Thats enough, no more of this breakup shit. You hear me, Y/N? DO YOU FUCKIN' HEAR ME?"

You nod, frantically. Tears streaming down your face. You're shaking too scared to fight back.

"Fuckin' cheating. Never thought you would baby, can't believe you'd do this me." He holds you tight in a hug the blood all over him smearing on you as well.

"My own fault. Should'a stuck by closer. You needed the attention, my own fuckin' fault." he kisses the side of your head and you can barely breath with how tight he's holding you.

"Shaking like a leaf. Fucker scared you. He got what he deserved, touchin' you like that. Pretty baby."

You're shivering and sniffling because Ran is what's scaring you, but you don't dare tell him that with his deranged rambling.

"I'll do better, baby, I'll treat you good this time. No one's gonna take you from me..."

Darkness fills your vision and you realize that Ran just knocked you out. Before you're completely unconscious you hear him say something he's only ever said once or twice.

"I love you..."

#yandere ran haitani #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere ran haitani smut #yandere tokyo revengers smut #ran haitani #ran haitani scenarios #ran haitani headcanons #ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x y/n

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bgyuus · 6 months ago

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casual — ran haitani x reader

definitely NOT inspired by casual by chappell roan

“jeez ran, i told you multiple times already.” you sighed in exasperation as you continued to bandage up his wounded sides. the taller boy only laughed at her reactions. bandaging him up and tending his wounds became a norm to you- not like you were complaining though. being able to see him after a long day of only god knows what he was doing around roppongi was enough for you already.

“no kisses?” ran pouted when you got up from his bed to take a glass of water. upon returning, you snorted at his words as you handed him the glass. “kisses makes the boo boo better, is it not?” he smirked at you, placing the glass down on the nightstand.

“your damned kisses will lead to another thing.” you rolled your eyes, leaning your head on his bandaged shoulder gently. the boy beside you chuckled. his fingers slowly ran through your hair as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. “oh but you weren’t complaining about it last week though. instead, you were begging it for more.” he snickered at your reaction before raising both of his hands in surrender.

later that night, you slept on the couch (he insisted you sleep on the bed with him but you declined, knowing he’ll obviously torment you with his antics), wondering how you ended up here.

it all started from a simple, mindless coincidence. you were going around town, running errands when the tyre of your bicycle suddenly hit a nail or something sharp on the ground, making your bicycle went out of control and knocking over some potted plants. adding to your humiliation, the infamous haitani brothers were there. before you could even get up to your feet, ran was already holding out a hand for you. and that evening, he was really nice to you which was weird but you let it slide as the brothers helped you with your tyre and eventually walking you back home safely.

“since i helped you a lot today, i’d like something in return,” he smiled, making you raised an eyebrow. “no need to go all annihilation mode on me, i just want to be friends with you that’s all.” that’s it? you wondered silently, this guy must be nuts.

and well look where you are now. you’ve been friends with him for somewhat a year or two, don’t know, you didn’t count. heck, you’ve even- you quickly shook your head, not wanting to go there. to make matters worst is that you don’t think that this was a casual friendship, at all. no dynamic duo would touch each other like that. and you were also quick to realised that you have been constantly worrying about him and always rushing over to his place to bandage him up or even staying at his place because he didn’t want you to go back home alone in the dark- just like right now.

you groaned softly into a pillow, holding it tightly to your chest. was it casual when he asked you to come over to his place for dinner because he knew how much your parents weren’t around at home? was it casual for him to give you kisses on the head and acting very soft and gentle towards you? was it casual for him when he whispered “i love you” to you when you were both tangled in each others arms after a quick session on the seat of his bike? all these didn’t make sense to you because ran, he was completely nonchalant about it.

days passed as you knocked on his house’s door to see if the brothers were free to hang out together. rindou answered, opening the door slightly and immediately saying “ran’s not home.” you looked at him, giving him the sceptical look as you pushed yourself pass him, only to be greeted by a sight that you wished you believed rindou’s false accusation earlier.

ran quickly detached himself from the other girl on the couch as he scratched the back of his neck. “and you said ran wasn’t home.” you looked over at rindou, clearly unamused. the younger haitani clicked his tongue in annoyance as he ushered the girl to get out from his house, as well as him leaving the both of you in the living room. to sort things out perhaps.

you stared at him, arms at your sides as you had no idea if you should scream or cry or just walk out.

“so uh, who was she?” you smiled nervously, in hopes to calm down the tense atmosphere in the room. “some girl from school.” he shrugged. you nodded, fiddling with your fingers as you tried to get the words you’ve longed to ask him.

“ran, what are-“

“no attachment.”

you immediately hold back your tongue from continuing. it was as if the world fell silent and you could’ve sworn you heard your heart falling to the ground, shattering into a billion pieces.

not responding to him, you only nodded, taking in a deep breath. “r- right.. no strings attached. got it.” you said quietly as you turned to the door. ran was still sitting on the couch, watching you head out of the door, knowing that this will be his last time seeing you before you completely exit his life.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev headcanons #ran haitani x you #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x y/n #ran haitani #haitani ran

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shidouryusm · 1 year ago

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Im not coming home

Gojo Satoru x reader

Content- angsty angst, just a lot of pain, reference to recent manga,

A.N -> i wrote this in a bus all teary faced with a concerned old uncle looking at me. I need my blue eyed boyfriend so bad. This is me mourning I haven’t been able to do it properly all day. Im sorry pls dont kill me. Not proofread this is a heat of the moment writing literally 😭

“See you guys tomorrow”, you say softly before sprinting out of the building. As if your body clock instantly knows when to chime in and draw you back to your nest.

You briskly get out of the room, offering a small wave to Shoko who just entered. Her concerned eyes following your trail.

The sun was floating in the horizon, the ground painted asphalt from the dying colours of the twilight and the air filled with intangible thickness of cold. In the midst of it, you walked. You walk with a rising tornado of emotions bubbling inside you, contrast to the drying winter.

You walked through the bustle of Roppongi. The town was back from the shambles it was two months prior. Always finding a way to bounce back into its original upheaval.

Amongst the skyscrapers decorating Roppongi, you eyes wander to the little sweet shop- selling the ever famous kikufuku — sweet cream filled mochi with Zunda paste. Satoru’s ever favourite.

“baby, this isn’t just a sweet.” Satoru gasps indignantly upon hearing your allegations of getting a cavity from it — “It’s a delicacy. Zunda and sweet cream— a work of culinary that you need to appreciate by savouring it as much as you can”, you roll your eyes as you watch your boyfriend plops another mochi in one bite. “Well that doesn’t mean you can double it up as lunch , Toru. you need to eat some actual meal”

“In that case, I can eat yo— I’m sorry” gojo quickly moves away as you swivel the huge cushion towards him, sweet chuckles erupting from his chest as you look at him poutedly.

The little playback of the memory cracked a little smile on your face — the shop ever so reminiscent of your little late night trips with Satoru whenever you both feel insomniac.

You walk over to the shop, feet reflexively carrying you towards the whirlwind of memories you have with him.

The sun had already settled beneath the darkness when you arrived home. The huge compound of area void of any presence. You enter the room, turning the lights on as you settle on the table. The small bag of kikufuku carefully placed on it.

“I’m home” you say without any conscious thought behind.

How can you? When these words never failed to emerge a 6’3 white-haired nuisance, his large hands encircling your waist, his nose breathing in your scent as you get slightly levitated into the air from the insane height difference. The small whispers of “I love you”s and “I miss you”s exchanged in the small gap between your faces — as if it were eternities since you both met each other. Those cerulean eyes of his mirroring your pools with affection and love that ran miles after miles.

Followed by little kisses pressed to your cheeks, then to your eyes and lastly placed on your lips. Those soft rhythm of his lips like promises of eternity.

Your chest twists in pain like you hugged a teddy bear fashioned with sharp daggers, slicing through your soul.

A sharp throb of your heart against your ribs as if it’s begging to be freed and chase the one it’s destined to beat for always. Your body turns numb, the tears like rivulets against your cheek— while you let them flow freely after a day long facade. Your shaky hands wander aimlessly into the air, pleading to find the silhouette, the comfort, the warmth of his body.

A part of your soul seemed to die everyday since then and today another sliver of it withered into nothingness.

Your voice broken like the shards of mirror reverberates across the large room that no one but you occupy, “im home, ‘toru. Where are you?”

The bag of kikufuku lays on the table as it is but Satoru hasn’t arrived home.

A.N 2 -> Yall pls dont be mad this is my way to cope. Even though I wrote this Im clutching on to the littol hope that he will return. If not then understand gege snuffed the life out of me as well

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sashi-ya · 1 year ago

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東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑨 𝑫𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑲, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑹𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑶 ㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ trafalgar law x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. would you invite your work colleague Law for ramen after some drinks at the bar?

requested by: @leftladyluminary ➡ May I request Law + A drink after work in a little bar of Shinjuku Golden Gai with a fem reader maybe a little nsfw (or completely lol) tw: MNDI. alcohol usage. nami x vivi heavily implied. abusive coworkers. law saving the night. smut with a "lot" of "plot". mutual pinning that both realized about it just now. oral. nipple play. vag sex. unprotected sex. creampie implied. did they eat the ramen? who knows. The bar does exist! it's the Bar Coo at Shinjuku Golden Gai! same as the train station (Yamanote Line, from Shibuya to Ueno) wc: 4.7k (sowwy) masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep “(Name), come with us to the izakaya! Let’s have some beers!” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI just want to go home… “Law is coming too, it’s a miracle!” ㅤLaw? Law? I think I can afford yet another night of barely three hours sleep…

ㅤ“I’ll be there in a minute, let me turn off my computer and grab my coat!”

It’s not new information that your jobs are overexploiting you, working for such big company as the Don Quijote chain requires a lot. It is also not new information that once in a while -almost every time- you need to go have some drinks with your colleagues and bosses… because if you don’t, you aren’t engaging enough in that “work family” nobody likes, but everyone pretends to love.

There was a certain colleague, however, who always finds ways to sneak and never get to the bar with you… and that man, precisely, is the man of your dreams. He doesn’t know, and you are sure you shouldn’t tell him, as him is no other than the boss’ nephew.

Trafalgar Law, a tall man with an unfriendly façade but definitely handsome features. Or more than that, you could say. His eyes sometimes shine golden like the earrings he wear, and sometimes silver like the winter lights in Roppongi. He is covered in tattoos, a pretty unique characteristic for being an employee but a lot more logical if you think a little further about his Uncle. Nobody can say it out loud, but all of you know… they are most probably part of the Yakuza.

Despite that, you couldn’t care a less… Law has been your crush since the day you watch him walk into the office so carefree.

It’s a cold night, winter is coming faster than expected. It always does. November ends up quickly, and the first snows begin to tint everything in pristine white. Your long coat covers your body up to your ankles, as well as Law’s black one. You watch him walk, in silence. Most of your coworkers always try to rip words from his mouth, but he is not really interested in engaging in any conversations.

You watch his tattooed fingers scrolling through his phone, as all of you walk the streets of Shinjuku. The Golden Gai awaits for you in their little old Izakayas, all packed within a narrow passage of warm lights, and flickering signs.

“You are staring way too much, (Name)” Nami, one of your coworkers whispers.

You widen your eyes… “Is it that noticeable?”

“It is, but don’t worry… we all think the same, he is hot but also out of reach. I mean, maybe not for you, that is. You are more than beautiful but remember where he is coming from… be careful” she says, being pure honesty with you. She is only trying to protect you. And Nami is completely right, you should be careful with Law.

You smile at her, and both cuddle in each other’s arm grabbing until one of your colleagues chimes and ask the rest if it would be ok to try for nothing a certain bar that looks a little… secret -suspicious, too-.

“Coo bar? It looks weird… but the painting on the door makes it look pretty interesting” you think, waiting for them to knock on that painted wooden door that reminds you somehow to Van Gogh’s style.

A little window slides open, and a pair of black slanted eyes scan you all. They close the little gate and immediately after the door opens welcoming all of you inside.

Law allows everyone to walk pass first, while his eyes scan the surroundings. You, of course, are not the exception.

“Please, girls” he says, paying special attention to your burning cheeks. Nami, who is not really interested in men, simply smile, and walks inside the bar. You, remain a little bit more lost in his golden eyes, but ultimately walk inside too.

You were mostly sure he wouldn’t even put a foot inside, and rather walk away once all of you were unaware. But tonight, it was different, he stayed.

The inside of the tiny bar looks more like an old Japanese living room transformed into a restaurant. The walls are made of wood, and there are many random things hanging from them. Old maps, old posters, photographs, even a big hamster plush that looks as old as you.

The scent of yakiniku fills the ambience, and your stomachs growl with the simple thought of tasting that salty and sweet meat grilled right in front of you.

All of you get into the biggest table you could find, but the tight will be fit nonetheless. You, who always chose to sit last, this time had to move a little to the side. The man of long legs, and tattooed hands decided to sit right next to you.

“Are you comfortable, Law-san?” you ask, trying to make enough room for him to be sitting comfortably.

“Yes, thank you (Name)-ya” he says, kindly than you have ever listened him spoke.

You smile, softly, looking down at your fidgeting fingers.

Soon enough a friendly waitress comes ready to take your order. Of course not before putting the so awaited portable grill in the middle of the table.

The more meat, the better. All of you ask for it, and a beer each… that you are sure it will turn in more than three.

The conversation bases in gossiping about the office, nothing really deep and most of the topics all end up in laughter. Law, however, doesn’t really laugh and you are sure he is not even listening… he is just pretending to.

You take swift looks at him, glancing with the side of your eye at the tattoos of his hands; at how his phone screen shines constantly with more and more notifications. He must be a very required man, and most probably has a lover already if not more than one.

Of course, you are not an unpopular woman either. And most of your male coworkers always try their -non efficient, and pretty cringey- seductive tricks with you the moment a drop of alcohol reaches the tip of their tongues.

“(Name)! here, I grilled this one for you!” one of them say, using the clamps to pass you a piece of meat.

“Oh, thank you…” you murmur, receiving the food in your plate. A thing you shouldn’t have done as that -simple smelly monkey- man, thinks you want everything from him for just accepting a piece of tiny meat. -as tiny as his dick, probably-

Most of them also offer you to serve you more alcohol, as ordering for a glass turned into “bring us the bottle, it’s faster and cheaper”. They were right, it was cheaper. But annoying.

Nami, whose blood began turning into bubbly alcohol, throws to Vivi’s arms. Yet another sweet coworker, who is married, but her eyes-only shine for the redhaired coworker that’s always by your side. The moment they indulge in alcohol, their inhibitions are set free, and what’s meant to be… it’s meant to be.

And that means a sudden trip to the women bathroom, where you were not clearly invited -unless you were into it, in which case they were more than pleased to welcome you in-. But that also means you are sitting all by yourself now. Surrounded by idiots who, as well as the ladies, wanted to end up their night on a love hotel or maybe just the bathroom of the bar with you.

Law seems unfazed, and keeps eating, drinking, and reading something on his phone. Why is he there, after all, you have no idea.

As soon as Nami and Vivi’s spot are free, the guy who offered meat slides right next to you. Thinking he is sleek, only to hit the table and make most of the drinks to spill on top of it. Yet, he is not even worried about it; he is just interested in one thing, you.

“More?” he asks, coming closer and closer, forcing you to consequently graze Law’s arm with yours.

“Uh.. I’m full thanks” you lie. You aren’t even half full, but you don’t want shit from him.

“I meant in your glass, let me serve you…” he whispers, grimacing. The bottle lets its liquids pour into your tiny glass, with the strong intention of getting you as wasted as possible.

You swallow, you won’t drink that up. Not all of it. But he keeps coming closer, and by now, your leg also touches Law’s. And then your back, until it is too noticeable for the tattooed pal to stand up in a violent, quick motion.

“How much are you going to insist on her? She is practically sitting on my lap from how much you are bending over her” Law says, looking at him with eyes on fire and disgust on his voice.

“Traf- Trafalgar-san, I-“ he stutters, he is not worried about you but about his job continuation after this.

“Get the fuck away from here, I don’t want to see you anymore” Law spits, he is not interested in fighting. He has had enough. You are not sure if it was because your body touched him, or because he was trying to defend you… but in any case, you are grateful he did.

You look to the ground, knowing your position wasn’t safe either. This will have consequences, and misogyny always finds the way to win.

Law sits back down, as the rest move away from the long wooden seat to let the bastard go away. But right before he stood up, he whispered at you disgusting words you were already waiting to hear…

“You are a little whore, and you know that. You are probably sucking his dick, aren’t you… slut. Be very careful when you walk home alone tonight”

You chose to keep quiet, as everybody else did. Because nobody would stood up for a woman, not in a men’s world.

You watch him go, drinking almost all the glass in one chug. You needed something to drown the fear and disgust you were feeling right now.

“Are you ok, (Name)-ya? Don’t worry, he has his days counted” Law suddenly says, grabbing his phone again.

“I am… thank you so much, Law-san” you shily and respectfully appreciate his help. “I am sorry for ruining the night…” you whisper, finally.

“It wasn’t your fault, at all. Men like that don’t belong in our organiz- company”

You swallow… and soon you realize what he meant when he mentioned the man had his “days counted”. You try to think of any words to spare the life of the abuser, but soon you chose to stay silent. You didn’t force him to do anything, after all.

Nami and Vivi leave the bar, without saying much. You didn’t want to tell them about the “situation”; you didn’t want to ruin their -lustful- end of the night.

As for the rest of your coworkers, most stood up to smoke outside, while others already took their leaves. Law, remained on his seat until one of the guys invited him to go smoke with them.

There is no point in staying; that drunk bastard won’t probably fulfil his threats against you as he is most probably passed out somewhere else due to the alcohol. Therefore, you pay your share, take your coat, and get outside the bar.

You try to leave without alerting anyone, but it is impossible to do so as one of your coworkers wave goodbye at you.

“Oi, (Name)? are you leaving already?! See you on Monday!” he screams; a scream that catches everyone’s attention, including Law’s.

You wave at them and begin to walk away with your keys in your hands and praying to reach for Shibuya as fast as possible to take the JR towards home… hopefully safe and sound by the end of the night.

A sudden pull in your wrist scares you and wasn’t for his fast reaction one of the keys would have ended carved somewhere on Law’s body.

“Oi, calm down. It’s me. I heard what he said on the bar, let me accompany you” Law says, putting down your hand slowly so he doesn’t get hurt by your keys.

You sigh, relived. Law is still a stranger, but if you had to die you would prefer doing it by the hand of a hot killer…

“Thank you, Law-san. But do you think is it ok? What are they gonna think? Plus, I live in Ueno” you ask, worried for future -unfortunately fake- rumours.

Law lifts his shoulders. “I personally don’t give a single fuck about that. I do, however, care for your safety”

You scoff sweetly, he doesn’t seem like one… but he is, indeed, a gentleman. A real man.

“If you don’t mind, then let’s go. I will repay the favour with some delicious ramen if you allow me. Right in front of my apartment we have the best convenience store of all Tokyo” you chime, happily. Perhaps you mistaken this by a date, but at least for some seconds you indulge on the happy thought of it.

Law nods. “The best one? What makes it so special?”

“It’s special because I spent many nights studying there late at night having the best instant ramen” you inform, proud of it.

He scoffs, and a little smirk appears on his lips. “Good, I wanna try the ramen there. As long as it doesn’t contain bread, I’m good”

You notice he can be a lot more interesting than what you thought; despite keeping the mysterious aura, he is a very talkative guy when he feels comfortable. And, apparently, he does with you.

Most of the conversation turns into a nerdy talk about his favourite comic series, that it is surprisingly the same as yours. And you couldn’t be happier, at least a dreadful night ended up better than expected.

Getting to Shibuya was easy; but the last train was about to part. Therefore, both of you, a little dizzy from the drinks -specially you- found the running a lot more challenging than expected. Yet ultimately, grabbed by Law’s hand, you were able to reach the train just in time before doors closed.

“I am so relieved we made it in time!” you sigh, sitting on one of the empty seats. “Same… I mean you could have taken a taxi but…” Law murmured, stopping his words midway. He realized that sending you home in a taxi would be the end of the time together… and he didn’t want that.

Law then proceeds to sit right next to you, crossing his long legs in such way it makes you bite your lower lip. He is a tease by total nature, he doesn’t even try. And he probably knows that too well. As the girls right in front of him gossip and giggle while looking at him.

The train ride is a little long, and the exhaustion suddenly hits you. You remember the fact that sleeping had been rather scarce the last few days of the week, plus the alcohol in your system…

The next station is Ueno. Doors will open on the right

“(Name)-ya… I think this is our station… wake up” Law’s soft voice whisper in your dreams, and your comfortable pillow suddenly takes the form of what it really was; his shoulder.

“Oh my, sorry! I didn’t mean…” you apologize, quickly brushing off the sleepiness. You notice he is not mad at you, but his façade has relaxed a lot more since the beginning of the night.

“It’s ok, you’ve been working a lot more than the rest lately. You are always the last one to leave the office” he says, helping you stand up and walking to the doors of the train.

You rub your eyes… he knows? That means he’s been watching you… but for how long, and why?

Ueno is as pretty as Shinjuku. The trees that will turn pink in the spring, now hold flowers made of silver flickering lights. There is a considerably less amount of people compared to the big city, though.

The cold air that hits your cheeks wake you up almost instantly, and you are back at having enough energy to eat that instant ramen that you promise Law.

“So, are you still up for the ramen?” you ask, shy and still ashamed for falling asleep on his shoulder. You wonder if snore or even worse… drool on him.

Law nods with a smile on his face and his eyes closed. He is also tired, but he doesn’t want to leave, and you can tell.

You guide him, and after walking a few blocks, the convenience store appears in the corner of a calm neighbourhood’s street.

“Come on, follow me” you chime, pulling from his hand inside the store.

Law follows, and for the first time both grab each other’s hands tightly. Despite gasping, you keep squeezing it… it feels like a dream…

perhaps it is, and I’m still sleeping on the train?

The cashier greets you both, and immediately after recognizing you she informs that the water boiler won’t be working until Monday in case you were there for ramen.

“We can have it in your place if you are ok with it” Law suggests, and your stomach gets full of butterflies… is this like the korean “would you like to come home for ramen?”, is this your “Netflix and chill”?

You nod. After all he did for you, there is no point in letting him go back to Tokyo with at least nothing warm to eat.

Soon he buys two packets of ramen, two sticks of cheese and two cans of sakura edition Monster. And without much conversation you two cross the street to finally reach for your apartment.

The ride on the elevator was as silent as the very beginning, apparently none of you had something further to say… both were absorbed into your own thoughts; what type were the ones inside his head, you begin to wonder.

“Here we are, my room might be in shambles. But the rest I think looks fine” you joke, opening the door and turning on the light.

You were to lie if you said you weren’t lucky; your department is tiny but still has beautiful looks towards the city. Nothing fancy, but decent and exquisitely decorated.

Law smiles, pleased. He enjoys spaces like yours.

“I like you…r place…” he whispers, right behind your back while you walk towards the open kitchen.

“Thanks…” you whisper back, biting your lower lip; sensing the high tension in the air like little zaps of energy, like counter shocks.

You receive the bag with the food from his hands and put a pot of water on the stove. It is necessary for a good instant ramen to boil the water before putting the noodles in. Or so that’s what you always thought. In any case, you needed your mind to be anywhere else but the idea of pleading him to fuck you against the counter.

“(Name)-ya, are you single?” he suddenly asks, after the last crumble of noodles fall from your hands into the bubbly water.

You turn around, slowly. Your ponder whether you should lie to him, or not. Perhaps a taken woman would be a lot more interesting to chase than looking like a lonely girl.

��Because I haven’t seen any man around you…” he continues, sitting on one of the stools and letting his elbows on the counter.

Busted. You can’t lie.

“I am single, yes. What about you, Law-san?” you ask, it is proper -and necessary for you to know-.

Law bends forward, his chin rests on his hand and his golden eyes fix in yours. You realize there has to be a hint of eyeliner on his waterline, and the dark circles intensify under the low light of your kitchen.

“Would you prefer to listen I am?” he asks, straightforwardly and so sexily.

You swallow; what…. the fuck?

“It depends, honestly. I wouldn’t like to be the other woman if you weren’t single” your words sound bigger than yourself, your eyes widen because you don’t even know who is talking right now… but it is definitely not your normal you; this is most likely, your horny you… the “you” that can’t keep hiding how much you are into your boss’ nephew.

Law stands up, walks around the breakfast bar and dominantly -yet, very, very slow- takes his fingers to your chin. You move slightly to the side, allowing your butt to hit the counter behind.

Your fingers clutch to the cold stone surface, your hips feels like magnets being pulled, attracted against the other’s.

“Is that so, (Name)-ya? Well… I am single, indeed” Law whispers, coming closer, so dangerously closer to your lips. His thumb, inked with the letter D, grazes your lower lip ever so softly. And you pout, just enough for him to be able to play with it.

Your sloppy eyelids, your separated lips, your head barely tilted to the side… like feverish, in need of medicine... Law’s lips medicine.

“I’m glad you are…” you moan, opening your mouth just enough to trap with your front teeth his thumb right after. The tip of your tongue follows, wetting his finger. And then, so that there are no more doubts, you suck on it so deliciously lustful.

Law takes a big breath, and sighs right after. He is smirking, so dark. Like you never seen him before. Like you always wish you did.

He lifts you up, helping you sit on top of the counter. Your legs, spread, allow him to come closer.

“You are glad I am gonna fuck you tonight, too?” he asks, leaving you breathless… continuing with the lack of oxygen, as his lips crash on yours.

His tongue, disrespectfully sexual, violates your mouth in pure impetuous need. With gasping and moaning in between, with heavy breathing, with desire for your flesh that seems to be unleashed after being trapped like a beast for so long.

The more he kisses you, the more he wants more. And you do, too.

His playful hands, lift the blouse that seemed to be so enticing to his eyes all through out the night. His delicate fingers crawl from your belly to your chest, squeezing your breasts with no modesty, with no decency.

When he lets your lips free, you feel them swollen, aching for more. You open your eyes, meeting his and a shiver runs through your back. The most handsome man in the earth is right in front of you, wanting to devour you… so desperately.

“So, are you glad… (Name)-ya?” he asks, again. This time with his hand on your neck, squeezing on the right spot to make you dizzy and horny.

“Mhj… yes… please, fuck me” you beg, so weak for his touch.

“Heh” he smirks, ripping your blouse, making the buttons pop and fly away. He doesn’t mind, he doesn’t care… “This damn blouse… you always wear it on Fridays, don’t you? it was making me so hard to see the way your nipples barely peeking through them with the air conditioner… heh…” he moans, with his lips pressed on the commissure of your lips.

For how long have you been watching me in silence, Law? …

Law kisses you one more time before going down to your neck and breasts. The nipples he mentioned were once and for all right before his eyes, hard because of him and not because of the a/c.

Desperately, he cups your right breast, trapping your hard sensitive button with his front teeth. Sucking, twisting, licking. Your body quivering, spasming. Your nails pulling from his messy onyx hair in response to pleasure.

A few more minutes, where you barely reached for the stove to turn it off, are enough for him to want more and more of your body.

“And then, this damn black tight skirt… were you doing it on purpose? Letting your paperwork to fall to the floor, for me to see right when you bent to pick them up, your panties through your pantyhose…? Mh? (Name)-ya?” he asks, kneeling in between your legs, sliding your skirt up, grazing the nylon tights with his teeth.

Why lie? If he was completely right? You did. You did so many times. And yet, never once you thought he could see, he could notice… you remain silent, because silence speaks louder than words…

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” he scoffs, carving with his middle finger a hole on your thighs, ripping violently down to expose your core. The view is pure art to him… to see your dripping wet panties, and the flesh of your thighs protruding from the indentations and ripped places of your panty hose...

He kisses those patches of free skin, and then bites them too. He enjoys the way the nylon material gets wet around with his own saliva; you quiver to the sensation, the cutting sharp edges, the kisses, his teeth grazing, the wetness increasing.

And those kisses, that keep going up and up, reach your core for the first time. “How much I wanted to taste your sex… you got me wanting to do it so bad” he grunts with his lips on your wet panty. The warmth of his breath against your sex, makes you flinch… a sting on your clit that felt like a bullet.

A kiss, a lick. Fine fabric getting drenched. Eyes turning white, his nose buried, inhaling your scent. Curious fingertips, moving lace away. The moment his tongue reached for your folds; your heels carved in between his shoulder blades.

Eating you out, you throw back your head, moaning loud, loudly. But you want even more… And almost like if he could read your mind, he stands up. Law uses his inked, veiny hand to clean -or rather spread- the mess you’ve made on his mouth and chin.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you… you are insatiable, I’ve always knew it” he growls, perhaps ignorant to the fact you are insatiable but only for him.

“I want you” you simply babble, ripping his yellow shirt off to discover his inked chest. The heart on his pecs that goes down until his belly button, pointing to his hardness fighting against his jeans… “I want you so bad…” you whine again.

“Then let me fuck you the way you deserve, (Name)-ya” he moans, biting your lower lip. You help him to get free from his clothes, desperately. You want it now; he wants it more than you.

Soon, his hardness blesses you with his imponent presence in between his fingers. Drippy, slightly veiny, pinkish tip that turns redder the second it passes. He pumps just enough to spread the precum all over, perhaps in an attempt to lubricate… as if it was really needed… you are sure your juices have dripped to your kitchen floor.

With not much, but only pure passion, he lifts one of your legs up until your whole sole is touching the counter. Well spread, enough for him to fit perfectly in, he pulls you closer to the edge.

“I am dying to try your walls clenching around my dick, (Name)-ya” he huffs, with his forehead pressed against yours.

“I want you inside of me, please…” you beg, taking your hips closer to his drippy gland.

Law kisses you brutally, to impale you equally after. He drinks your moans; you breathe off his grunts. His hands land on the small of your back, moving in an out of you with strong pace. While your nails carve on his shoulders, leaving marks of love.

The sound of skin slapping skin flood the kitchen, mixed with the pleasure song of your throats.

Law carries you to the table, and your body lies there until he can bend completely over you to keep fucking you while kissing and biting everything he has in front. You do the same, pulling from his lip, biting his neck, his shoulders… trapping him against you, with no way out, with your legs snaked tightly around his waist.

Nothing matters the most, than him never leaving your insides. Nothing matters the most that being bound to the other, mixed in one and only.

Filled with his release, he keeps on going. Reaching for one, two, three times the maximum climax… more, more and more…

“We can eat the ramen tomorrow… right?” “Y-yes…”

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chokarubi · 3 months ago

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hcs: thinking about childhood friends -> teen love -> adult love -> marriage with Rindou

(note: the way that I started writing this and realize I have 0 ability to build up the relationship, this is why I like established relationship, they're already together and we don't need to go through the set up + also this is my version of Rindou and I think he is a tsundere who is secretly a loser loverboy on the inside for his girl, so he may be OOC but he's my babe and these are my hcs) posted: 10/18/24

meeting Rindou before he got sent to juvie

meeting Rindou when you were young, stumbling across him and Ran practicing fighting moves in the park

stopping to watch them spar, interested in the way that someone so young was fighting with such skill

Ran noticing you watching and telling Rindou that they had a fan watching them practice

introducing yourself to them once they catch you watching; going to a konbini afterwards for a snack

finding out that Rindou was the same age as you and that you went to the same school (never seeing him because he's been ditching class; finally finding out who the empty desk belongs to in your class)

exchanging numbers before you left for home, asking Rindou to hang out with you sometime

becoming fast friends since you were the only person who persistently hung around, not scared away by his gang activities and frequent fights

finding out that Rindou was in juvie and visiting him every week

Tenjiku Rindou

being outside the prison to welcome Rindou (and Ran) back once they got out of juvie

Ran secretly teasing Rindou about the fact that his wifey was waiting for him (Ran totally teased him when they were inside juvie as well, seeing as you visited as much as possible)

being by Rindou's side as the Haitani brothers reestablished their dominance over Roppongi (cheering them on by the sidelines)

Rindou being aware of his crush on you but not wanting to say anything, afraid of ruining your current relationship

seeing other guys hit on you and deciding that he was greedy and wanted you all to himself

confessing to you on one of your regular outings, secretly being over the moon when you accepted

walked around like a proud peacock for a while, hyped that you had accepted his affections

Rindou spinning up some mixtapes for you on his DJ equipment (burning it to a CD and shyly handing it over to you)

introducing you to the S-62 generation (I hc that they're all buds and hung out after getting out of juvie)

being devastated when he got arrested after Izana's death; staying by his side and waiting for him, but making sure he knew he'd better make it up to you when he gets out

Bonten Rindou

Rindou following through with his promise of making it up to you; proposing shortly after he got out of prison (where would he ever find a wifey like you again?)

Rindou being so grateful that you waited for him and loved him despite his flaws

Having a small intimate wedding, inviting the remaining members of S-62, celebrating your marriage and a reunion of the members

Rindou and Ran being approached by Kakucho, Kaku inviting them to join Bonten

Rindou being hesitant to join, having you and being a married man, not being sure of where life would take you two if he got involved in the criminal life again

Rindou talking it out with you and joining Bonten along with Ran (you threatened Ran to make sure Rindou would stay safe and that they wouldn't go to jail again)

the Bonten crime life both providing generously for your lifestyle, but taking quality time with Rindou away from you

Rindou opening the nightclub along with Ran and taking you there on the opening night, dedicating an entire private suite just for you, whenever you wanted to come

Rindou promising now that things were more established he'd be dedicating more time to you like you deserve

having the occasional Bonten x S-62 crossover hangouts, meeting up with Kakucho and Mochi for dinners

being content with your position as Rindou's wifey, seemingly set for a happy life with your crime husband

#tokyo revengers #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani #haitani rindou

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sxypnk · 5 months ago

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⤷ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞! 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨!

⫶ Includes; 𝐑𝐚𝐧, 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮, 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮, 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐲𝐮, 𝐍𝐚𝐡𝐨𝐲𝐚 ⫶

Part 1

Ran

Ran is quite the charmer, opting for an upscale rooftop restaurant in the heart of Roppongi. He'd surprise you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers while you repeatedly kissed his cheek in admiration. As you sat blushing, he'd tease you about your beauty, occasionally brushing against your leg. Unwittingly, he would flirt with the waiter, which might annoy you, but he would quickly apologize once you pointed it out and would avoid looking nor talking to her for the rest of the evening. After dinner, you stroll hand in hand with Ran through the vibrant streets of Roppongi, feeling the cool evening breeze wrap around you like a soft blanket. He playfully challenges you to a race, and with laughter spilling from your lips, you both dash under the twinkling lights. As you wander through the lively atmosphere, he pulls you close, whispering sweet nothings that make your heart race. The night feels limitless, filled with joy and a deepening connection that brightens your soul.

Rindou

Rin is the kind of guy who prefers to keep dates uncomplicated, valuing quality over quantity; for him, a late-night drive counts as a perfect outing. He definitely has leather seats in his car, which would be infused with a pleasant scent of vanilla and lavender. With the windows rolled down and your hair blowing in the wind, your favorite songs would fill the air, prompting you to sing along, which would tug a smile to his face while doin' 80 in a 60, not giving a shit in the world.

Sanzu

Watching movies or playing games instead. For Sanzu, the idea of going out to fancy restaurants or crowded places feels overwhelming; he finds far more joy in the intimacy of your shared space. On those cozy days, he'd wrap you in his arms, whispering jokes and sharing stories while the world outside faded away. The comfort of being together in your little bubble is far more appealing to him than any traditional outing, and he often surprises you with homemade snacks or sweet gestures, making those moments together just as special as any date could be.

Chifuyu

Fuyu is such a lover-boy; he’s the type who'd secretly plan a sunny picnic on a windy day just to see you smile. When you finally get to the spot, he’d playfully cover your eyes before revealing a big blanket spread out on the grass, complete with cushions that match your style. As you open your eyes, the layout of your favorite snacks—slightly messy but lovingly arranged—would greet you, making your heart swell. You’d burst into laughter at the sight of the quirky heart-shaped sandwiches and the colorful fruits he picked just for you. He’d feed you little bites of food, and with each shared snack, he’d weave in sweet stories or silly inside jokes, reminding you just how thoughtful and fun love can be.

Nahoya

We adore Nahoya; unlike his brother, he’s the type who craves the thrill of the bigger roller coasters even more than you do! He loves sharing fun experiences with you, knowing they’ll light up both your faces with joy. He'd take you to the old-fashioned festival, where you both can admire the artwork and dive into games together. Between each adventure, he’d lead you to delicious food stands for food like street corn or sweet treats to munch on as you stroll. By the end of the night, you’d find yourselves watching the fireworks, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder, savoring that perfect moment together.

#sanzu haruchiyo #ran haitani #rindou haitani #haitani brothers #chifuyu matsuno #nahoya kawata #tokyo revengers #headcanon #sxypnk #x reader #divider creds: cafekitsune #𝙍𝙔𝙉'𝙎 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙆✧˚ · .

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lilac-5ky · 1 year ago

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The one where he carries you home after a fight (Toji xFem!Reader)

A/N: My 7AM sleepless demons wrote this, not me.

warning: mentions of alcohol

Series Masterlist

“Thanks for coming, Toji. She wanted us to hit Roppongi next.”

“No problem.” Toji mutters as he lifts your limp body over his shoulders—arms thrown over his neck and knees buckled around his torso.

He nearly winces at the overwhelming stench of tequila emanating from your breath, praying that the wetness seeping through his shirt is drool and not vomit, though that’s more like wishful thinking. You are wasted. Completely and utterly drunk out of your mind to the point where you can’t differentiate the setting or those around him.

“Mistah, drop me off at the next station,” you slur with your eyes closed, pointing somewhere on the horizon before nodding off again. This was the third time you repeated that motion.

“How much did ya make her drink?” Toji doesn’t ask so much as accuse the two women, who are quick to shut him down with the dirtiest of looks. Nothing new. Your friends never liked him, and the feeling’s mutual.

“Make her?” Utahime huffs, rolling her sleeves over her elbows. “She’s the one who dragged us out on a Tuesday night. If anything, you’re the one to blame—you pushed her to it!”

“Senpai, calm down already.” Shoko lowers her friend’s fists. Out of the two, she’s the better one at acting like she tolerates him. “What did you fight over, anyway?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

With the way you stormed out the door in your finest high-heel shoe, black party dress, and red lipstick combo, he’d expect your lovers quarrel to make headlines by midnight.

However, they both shake their heads negatively.

“Who knows?” Toji flashes an oblivious smile before he gets you going. You were so angry at him earlier, and in all honesty, he did cross a line or two, but it doesn’t feel all that important now. Come tomorrow, this will become just another entry in your record of petty arguments to look back on and laugh at.

You’ve made it halfway up the slope that leads to your crappy apartment building when he catches you flailing around on his back like a fish fresh out of water. He slots his hands into the crevices beneath your thighs, applying enough pressure so that you won’t fall.

“Rise and shine, sleepy-head.”

Your slow blinks turn rapid the second you realize your feet aren’t touching the ground and you’re piggybacking on a stranger. “W-Who are you?”

“Ya don’t remember?” Toji rolls his eyes with a loud tsk. “What was it again? Mister Taxi? Mister Killjoy? Or Mister Buzzkill?” He goes through the different names you bestowed on him in your sleep.

“Mister… Buzzkill?” Your jaw drops slack on his shoulder, only for your palms to clap at his chest in excitement a minute later. “Mister Buzzkill, I remember! You kidapped me from my friends and spoiled our fun!”

“More like your friends got sick of your ass and called me to pick up the pieces.” He argues. “Hold on tight if ya don’t wanna fall. Climb’s steep from now on.”

Strength returns to your arms as they cage his neck. “Where are you taking me, Mister Buzzkill? Are we going to party?”

“Don’tcha think you’ve had enough partying for one night, princess?” He grunts. “We’re goin’ home.”

“Home? Whose home?”

Toji’s starting to miss the you that nags him about not soaking his dirty dishes. Alcohol always chips away at your mental capacity, and while he wants to be understanding, he can’t understand that which he’s never experienced for himself. “Our home, dummy.”

The epithet doesn’t faze you in the slightest. “Are you going to exploit me?”

“Prospect makes you happy?” You hum in return. “Fine. You can pay for the ride once we make it home.”

“But…” And you sound so sad that he cocks his head to peer at your face, glassy, puppy eyes welling up with fat tears that make him wonder whether he said something hurtful again. “I don’t have any money. My husband said we’re out of money ‘cause he—he gambled it away.”

The cogs in his brain are put in reverse, reminding him of the cash he snatched from your open wallet with the intention of waging it on a guaranteed victory and the little white lie you took at face value. You didn’t even give him the chance to explain that the bills were still in his pocket because the race was called off, and he let you run off to your friends without offering a single apology.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out.” Toji squeezes your thighs reassuringly. “Ya can pay me back in kind, too.”

“But my husband—”

“Your husband is a shithead.” He spits out, hoping that his remorse registers without leaving behind any actual trace of his words.

“You are so kind, Mister Buzzkill. Unlike him—my Toji.” The fingers of your one hand pull on your wedding band until it comes off. “Wanna marry me again, Mister…Toji?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Toji catches the wedding band right before it slips from your fingers to the street. Part of him wants to scold you for being a scatterbrained nuisance, but the part of him that finds even your plastered form endearing comes out on top.

He slides the ring around the ring finger of his ring-less hand and pieces your hands together, holding onto them until you finally reach the front door and you’re sober enough to call him by his name.

“A’right, we’re here.” Toji declares once the key’s inside the hole.

He calls out your name and shakes you softly, but there’s no answer coming from you other than a single embarrassingly loud snore. He lets go of your legs and slowly puts your feet on the floor before hoisting them up in the air again, shifting to carrying you into bridal position. Your hands reach around his neck on their own volition, and he swears your lips curl into the softest smile when your nose pressed against his shirt.

He sighs, parting the hair that’s fallen inside your agape mouth.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

#toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji headcanons #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji x yn #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro

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thecordelialetters · 1 year ago

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˚✧₊MEGUMI'S GIRLFRIEND⁺˳✧༚

A short one-shot where you are Megumi’s Secret Girlfriend

★ pairing: Megumi x f!reader ( slight Yuta )

★ wc: 1.38k

No one expected Megumi to have a girlfriend. The guy had no rizz as Yuji would say. He had about as much personality as a block of stone. “Yah Megumi, tonight me and Nobara are headed out to Roppongi to go clubbing want to join?” Yuji asked his friend. They had just finished all their missions and would have off the next few days

“No, go on without me.”

It wasn’t unusual for Megumi to say no, so Yuji, Nobara, and the 2nd years went without him.

The next time the trio went on a mission they noticed Megumi couldn’t stay off his phone. It’s like he was glued to it.

“Who are you texting? You don’t have any friends besides us.” Nobara was just as nosey as Yuji when it came to Megumi’s personal life. And as usual, the response was “None of your business”.

The Jujutsu Sorcerer life was a tough one. If you found a partner that was great. Staying alive, working , and keeping your partner happy and safe was another challenge. But Megumi somehow did it. He loved you with all his heart. Made time for you. Took you on dates. He showed you a soft side that he had never shown anyone before. You and Megumi had been together for over a year and you had never met his friends and still didn’t know too much about his school life.

It was Friday and every Friday Megumi took you out on a date. It didn’t matter where, how long it was, or if he had a mission, he would always do something with you on Friday nights.

Last week he took you to the aquarium to look at the sharks, your favorite animal. You split a sandwich in the cafe ( cuz ur boi poor like his dad) and he bought you the cutest fluffiest shark plushie that currently sits on your bed.

However, this Friday was tough, he has just gotten back from a mission and was covered in bruises. After a short trip to Shoko, he made his way to your place to relax and watch on of your favorite movies, Legally Blonde. However this time, his absence did not go unnoticed by Yuji whose room was right next door.

The next morning Nobara and Yuji were walking to the training field to meet with Gojo and Yuji thought it was the perfect time to have a little gossip sesh. “Hey, Megumi snuck out last night.”

“What ? No way that guy definitely has no where to go. What do you think he doing?”

“I don’t know he’s been acting sort of weird”

“How so?”

“Well, For the last few months, he’s been going out on his own, staring at his phone a lot and sneaking out… MAYBE HE'S DEALING DRUGS”

After a quick wack in the head from Nobara “No freaking way he’s dealing, he’s probably reading new ways to train or something”

For the next weeks, the duo would stalk Megumi. They began noticing things. The slight blushes on the check after a sly phone call, the hint of lavender on his clothes when he came back to the school, a necklace in the shape of a heart he wore that was way too girly for him to buy himself.

It wasn’t until the next Friday that Yuji and Nobara decided to follow Megumi when he left. Dressed up in horrid disguises, they followed Megumi to the train station where he bought a small bouquet of daisies at the flower shop.

One… two… three…four… they counted four stops before the train arrived to shibuya.

“He went all the way to Shibuya? For what … the flowers? No way this guy is on a date…”

“Nobara! Hey he definitely is on a date! He got all dressed up and brought gifts!” Yuji replied as they both scurried after Megumi to avoid losing him in the crowd.

“No … way.” Yuji and Nobara’s jaws dropped as they saw a gorgeous woman run into Megumi’s arms before he swung her around, landing a small kiss on her head. The look in Megumi’s eyes and the expression on his face was something they hadn’t seen before. It was a look of pure love and adoration for this woman dressed in another Tokyo school uniform. The couple chatted a bit, you thanked Megumi for the flowers and gave him a swift kiss on his lips. Kissing Megumi was a treat, he was soft and gentle, but his arms around you were strong and protective. Almost as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Yuji and Nobara were shell-shocked. Firstly Megumi had a girlfriend and DIDN’T TELL ANYONE and secondly, you were hot as fuck. No way a guy like Megumi could land you. But to you, it felt like it was the other way around. Megumi was perfect for you. He was a gentleman who showed you what love was and treated you with respect and kindness. It didn't help the fact that he adored everything about you.

After Yuji and Nobara got over their shock and gorged on food in Shibuya. They went back to Jujutsu High and gossiped more about you and Megumi.

Four months had passed and neither Megumi nor Yuji and Nobara brought you up. Yuji was waiting for Megumi to tell him on his own, and Nobara wanted to see how long Megumi could keep the secret for.

“Hello first years! We have a new student joining us today. Treat her well!” Gojo was never really good at intros. Stepping around Gojo there you stood in your own Jujutsu high uniform looking just as cute as when Yuji and Nobara first saw you. The duo almost broke their necks to look at Megumi but he showed no reaction, you didn’t either.

It wasn’t until you four headed to the training field to meet up with the 2nd years till Yuji and Nobara started whispering.

“How are they going to pretend they don’t even notice each other!?”

“They didn’t even look at each other!”

Dumbfounded, they watched as Yuta approach you with a friendly smile on his face. Standing a little too close he introduced himself. “Hi (y/n) I’m Yuta Okkotsu, 2nd year and special grade sorcerer.” Yuji and Nobara watched Megumi as a large tick appeared on his forehead. Seems as if Megumi was the jealous type. As you and Yuta conversed a little more the duo swore they saw steam rising from Megumi’s spikey hair. After 3 minutes and you laughing at Yuta's stuttering, Megumi stalked forward and grabbed you by the waist. His grip was firm, not too much to hurt you but enough to show Yuta that he was serious.

“Oi, (y/n) I see you’ve met Okkotsu-senpai.”

“Yes, Gumi I have! We were just taking about our abilities”

“Oh yeah, you’ve showed me them all the time. I know you abilities in and out. “

Panda , Maki, Inumaki, Yuji, and Nobara watched the interaction unfold and Megumi practically hovered over you.

“Megumi… or… Gumi he he… YOU DIDN’T TELL US YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND.” Panda shouted.

“Oh yeah… I guess I didn’t. Well, everyone this is my girlfriend (y/n) we’ve been together a little over a year now.” Megumi confessed as he looked at you.

Yuji and Nobara sweated before shouting “We’ve been WAITING for you to finally admit that. It was eating us ALIVE.” This is definitely the longest secret the pair had kept.

Megumi chuckled “I know. I saw you guys following us on our date to Shibuya. You guys are shit whisperers and dressed like Sherlock Holmes…”

“YOU KNEW???!” At this point, Yuji and Nobara were shocked and accepted defeat. They needed to work on their spy skills.

“Yep, I knew I just wanted to see how long you guys could hold out for. But thank you. I just wanted to keep my girlfriend to myself but now that she’s here we’ll all my seeing more of each other” Megumi said as he grabbed your hand.

“I like your friends Gumi, they’re funny. I hope Yuji doesn’t mind me coming over to your room too often though. Don’t worry Yuji I’ll buy you some earplugs.” You said as you kissed Megumi on the cheek, effectively leaving everyone speechless.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk megumi #megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu yuji #yuji itadori #jjk nobara #nobara kugisaki #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #megumi x y/n #megumi x you

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s4no · 1 year ago

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+ feat: ken ryuuguji x fem!reader

+ cw: sex work (draken is an escort), virginity loss, oral (r), ptv, size difference

+ summary: after years of failed attempts at losing your virginity, you decide to take matters into your own hands and buy a night with the most expensive male escort tokyo has to offer. (5.4k words)

+ a/n: i decided to rewrite one of my old fics so if you recognize the title and/or plot, it's from my archived account; written in the adult timeline

Your nerves are in shambles as you approach the unfamiliar building. Your legs feel weak and your fingers clutch your wallet tightly, as if you suspect someone may try to mug you and steal it. For all that you know, it's possible. You’ve never been in this part of town before and you're grateful you haven't run into anybody you know. You’d definitely get questioned if someone saw you walking down the main street of Tokyo's Red Light District. Or more specifically, into a brothel.

It isn’t like you're out here on a whim. You’d thought about this for a long time, pondered over it many nights after hours of tossing and turning, and after five very long— and equally as frustrating years, you’d made your decision. You wanted to lose your virginity and you’d use all the resources at your disposal.

You didn’t have much luck out on the dating scene, which mainly consisted of Tinder and a couple of the local bars out in Roppongi. You’d tried it all: blind dates, speed dates, double dates. None of them ever resulted in a relationship— or even a one night stand— so you’d been forced back to square one each time. After five years of trying and failing, you’d given up on finding love for the time being.

But… not pleasure.

That’s how you find yourself walking into the luxurious lobby of the most popular brothel in the city. The smell of jasmine invades your nose and the sound of smooth jazz drifts into your ears, immediately creating a sensuous atmosphere that leaves you gawking. Red velvet couches line the walls, some accompanied by golden side tables where clients can sit their drinks while they wait to be called back.

At the front of the room sits a large mahogany desk with a woman seated behind it, tapping away at a computer. Swallowing, you timidly approach the front desk and lean in close, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hello, I’d like to… Um, book a room.”

The woman doesn’t even bother sparing you a glance, her fingers still flying across the keyboard. “Male or female bodied?”

“Male, please. I’d like… the male with the best rating, if possible.”

Your cheeks flush when the woman stops typing, her eyes glancing you over before responding. “I’m sure you would,” condescension colors her tone, “but I’m afraid there are premium rates for our top-tier employees.” Ones that are out of your price range, she suspects.

“I’m prepared to pay as much as it takes.” Unzipping your wallet, you spread it open to reveal a thick stack of crisp ten thousand yen banknotes. You’ve been saving up for this since Christmas, working a full-time job along with attending classes at the university nearby. It’d been stressful and you'd worked yourself ragged, pinching pennies for the last few months, but tonight is going to make it all worth it.

Her eyes flicker between you and your stuffed wallet for a moment before she crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “I see. Well, I’ll have to check if he’s available. How long did you want to book him for?”

“…Three hours.”

Her eyebrows raise at that but she otherwise remains professional, nodding and picking up the phone on her desk. She quickly dials a number, sighing as she waits for someone to answer. “Hello? Yes, I was wondering if you’d like to accept a three-hour appointment.” She pauses for a second. “Yes, she’s here in the lobby right now and prepared to pay the fees upfront.” Another pause. “Okay. Thank you, Draken. Bye.”

Putting the phone down, she turns back to you. “He should be down shortly to take you back. That’ll be ¥120,000.”

�� ღ —

After handing over the wad of cash, you take a seat on one of the velvet couches and run a hand through your hair. The room feels significantly warmer than it had when you first walked in and you realize it's because your heart is racing. It's happening. This is actually happening.

You'd almost chickened out this afternoon— considered using the money to take a nice little trip to Okinawa. You could swim with the fish and read out on the beach, eat some good seafood, blow off some steam. You'd definitely enjoy yourself but what happened once you came back? You'd find yourself back at square one, a hundred thousand yen poorer and filled with regret and immense sexual frustration.

There had been a couple of times you'd come close to achieving your goal. You'd gone to a frat party a few weeks ago, drank and danced your heart out. Even wore a pair of jean shorts that barely managed to cover your ass. When you ended up getting hot and heavy with one of the brothers, he took you back to his room only for you to walk in on his roommate having a threesome with two very talented blondes.

In March, when you first created a Tinder profile, you'd matched with a cute grad student who wanted to take you out to dinner. He drove you to a hotpot restaurant and halfway through the date, you two retreated to the bathroom to have a quickie. Your panties were around your ankles when you realized you didn't want your first time to be in a restroom stall beside a grimy toilet. You didn't want it to be a five-minute escapade that would leave you disappointed and unfulfilled. It's obvious to say the drive home had been awkward.

You're so deep in thought that you don't notice when a man walks out from behind the beaded curtain and approaches the front desk. You don't notice him at all— not until he's standing in front of you with a small smile playing on his lips. Onyx eyes roll over you slowly, long hair of the same color tied back in a braid. There's a black dragon tattooed across the left side of his head, and you have the oddest urge to reach out and trace your fingers atop it.

“You must be my client for tonight.” His voice is deep and smooth like molasses and a trill runs down your spine as he wets his lips, “I’m Draken.”

“Hi… I’m (y/n).” You offer, extending your hand out to which he lifts a brow.

He repeats your name back to you, drawing it out like he savors the taste of it on his tongue, and then takes your hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he interlaces his fingers through yours and gives it a soft squeeze. “C’mon princess, ’m on the top floor.”

Nodding weakly, you’re practically in a daze as he leads you back through the curtain of sparkling beads and into an elevator that’s every bit as fancy as the room you were just in. He fishes out a silver key from his pocket before turning it into the lock beside the button labeled seven, and up you go.

The enclosed area only emphasizes how large he is compared to you, how much space he takes up. He’s well above six feet with broad shoulders and muscles that bulge inside the sleeves of his silk button-down. You can feel him watching you as you ascend but you don’t have the courage to meet his gaze. Tension bleeds into the air, and coupled with the stark silence, it’s nearly suffocating. You have to make a conscious effort to take deep breaths as you will your heart to calm down.

When the dinging of the elevator sounds like church bells, you aren’t surprised. You’re pretty sure heaven awaits you on the other side of these doors.

You find that heaven looks a lot like a bachelor’s pad. Filled with dark wood and sleek furniture, it’s a mini-paradise; complete with a fully stocked bar, a king-sized bed, and a balcony leading out to a hot tub. Music plays softly from the surround sound system and you breathe in the faint aroma of juniper and tobacco as you walk inside.

“I hope R&B is alright.” He squeezes your hand once more before letting go of it, kicking off his slippers and making his way over to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A glass of water?”

His brow lifts again but he nods, “Sure.”

“Thank you.” You look around while he pours out your drinks, taking in the scenic view of the city below. “You have a very nice place.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” When you turn around, he’s standing behind you, holding out a glass of water with a shot of sake in his other hand. “Be so formal.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You quickly accept the drink, muttering out a quiet apology. You’d done so much in preparation for this moment, but not once had you ever thought about how awkward it would be in the beginning. You hadn’t thought to look into the… ‘etiquette’ of brothels. You settle on giving him an honest answer. “I’m not entirely sure how to act.”

There’s a knowing smile on his face as he reaches out and tilts your chin up. His thumb glides lightly across your cheek, the calloused fingertip burning where it touches your skin. “Just relax. I promise you, you’re in good hands. I’m gonna take good care of you tonight.”

You know the gesture is meant to help reassure you and lessen your nerves, but all it succeeds in doing is sending your pulse skyrocketing. Apprehension bubbles low in your stomach and your voice wobbles when you respond. “O-Okay..”

“Let me ask you a question.” His thumb moves from your cheek to your mouth, feather-light as it ghosts over the curve of your lips. “You haven’t done this before, have you, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks flare at his question, eyes widening in shock. Is it that obvious? “No, I haven’t.” You admit reluctantly, “I just— Well, I’m tired of waiting. I know the first time is supposed to be special, but… this is special in a way, right?” You watch as the comforting smile falls right off his face. His eyebrows furrow and you mimic the action, worrying what you’d said to elicit this type of reaction. “What? What’s wrong?”

He blinks at you as he processes the information and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head. “First time?” His expression turns serious, his hand dropping from your cheek. “I was talkin’ about coming to a brothel, not having sex.” He shakes his head, “Look, I’ll take you back downstairs. Sana will get you a full refund—”

“No!” You cringe when you blurt it out, interrupting him. “Please, you don’t understand. I want to do this. I’m sure of it.”

“It’s not a matter of if you’re sure or not.” His voice is stern now, taking on an edge that slices right through your pounding heart. “It’s a personal preference. I don’t sleep with virgins, not at work.”

“I— I can pay you more money, however much you want!” You know you sound desperate but that’s because you are. You’ve worked your ass off to get here, to have this experience, and now you’re grasping for straws as you feel it slipping through your fingers. “You don’t even have to accommodate me, just do your thing and—”

It’s his turn to interrupt you. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” You can hear the anger in his voice, it’s almost palpable. “You can’t just go around tellin’ people they can have their way with you. It’s your first time. You should be accommodated. Now, follow me. I’m walking you back down to the lobby.”

You don’t move when he walks back toward the elevator, keeping your feet planted on the hardwood floor. “If I should be catered to, then why don’t you do it yourself? Because if you take me back down to the lobby, I won’t be getting a refund. I’ll just ask for someone different.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers as it clenches, his eyes narrowing down at you as if that will help him discern whether you’re bluffing or not. But as you hold his gaze, unwavering and earnest, he realizes you’re telling the truth. Heaving a sigh, he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He should be calling security right now, have you escorted out of the building. He shouldn’t be entertaining the thought of conceding to your demands.

Yet, there’s something in your eyes as you stare up at him— a certain innocence that has him willing to break his rules. Just once. He’d indulge you this once, if only because he doesn’t trust anybody else here to treat you right. “…Fine, but we’re doing this my way.”

You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. “Thank you, Draken. It… that means a lot to me.”

“I know it does.” Normally, he isn’t so forgiving toward people who threaten him but he can recognize the desperation in your voice. And desperation can lead to dangerous things. Other men would take advantage of that, and for some reason, he hates the thought of some old sleazebag taking your first time. At least with him, he’d make sure you’re satisfied. “Here, let’s sit down.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. “Should we… take off our clothes?”

Your heart flutters when a chuckle rumbles up from his chest. You’re as awkward as you are stubborn and he finds it strangely endearing. “No, not yet. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, m’kay?” He scoots closer, turning to face you. “But I am going to kiss you.” He raises a hand to your cheek, his thumb resuming its stroking. “If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so.”

He waits until you nod before beginning to lean in, slowly so you still have every chance to change your mind. But when his lips press against yours, claiming them with a tender kiss, you know there’s no going back.

His lips are soft and warm as they move against yours, and you kiss him back— albeit clumsily because of how nervous you are. He doesn��t seem to mind though, more than willing to take the lead and pick the pace. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to deepen the exchange, and you allow it, humming contently as the taste of spearmint and tobacco fills your mouth.

His hand moves to grip your jaw as the other trails up and down your side, and despite the shivers that ensue, it helps ground you in the moment, brings you back down to earth just in time for him to draw away. You’re left breathless, sucking in deep gulps of air to clear the dizziness that’s muddled your mind.

“You still want to do this?” Warm breath fans across your face, obsidian eyes searching yours for any sign of uncertainty. He doesn’t find any.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, “I meant it when I said I want to do this.”

That’s all the consent he needs before he captures your lips again, this time with an intensity that makes your head spin. His hands move to unbutton your blouse, slowly working their way down to the bottom and slipping it off your shoulders. He doesn’t break the kiss as he starts palming your breasts, massaging them over your bra, and you can’t help the whimper that rises up from your throat in response. His tongue continues to explore your mouth, tangling with yours until your core is throbbing with need.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me?” He murmurs against your lips, palms splayed across your chest. One of them snakes behind you and nimbly unclasps your bra, letting it fall forward just enough to give him a peek at what lies underneath. “Lay back.”

Your body responds naturally, following his order without hesitation. You pull away and lean back until you’re pressed against the mattress with him looming over you, his eyes drinking you in as he slips the garment off your shoulders. “Fuck…” He mutters, “Look at you.”

Your nipples pebble beneath his gaze, pretty and pert and begging to be played with. He licks his licks lustfully, rough hands coming down to cup and squeeze them. Your head turns to the side when he starts to pinch the peaks, rubbing them between his fingers and forcing another whimper to escape.

He maintains eye contact as he lowers down, plush lips wrapping around one only to flick his tongue over the bud. “Draken…”

“There you go,” he breathes out, pulling back to admire the view. “Just relax, baby.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it off, discarding it with the rest of your clothes before turning his attention back to you. “Don’t be afraid to touch me.” He leans forward and grabs your hands, moving to press them against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate, the rhythmic thumping beneath your palm. It’s a sharp contrast to yours which beats wildly against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest.

With the sight before you, who can blame you?

His body is built and toned, corded muscles rippling across his torso and leading down to a delicious set of prominent v-lines. Your mouth waters as they flex and you drag your hands down to feel the hard ridges of his abdomen, a trail of dark hair descending down from his navel and disappearing into his jeans. You’re all but mesmerized.

“Like what you see?” He teases, his head dipping down to the curve of your neck. Straight white teeth graze across the tender flesh before suckling on your pulse point. All you can do is nod, your breathing shallow and uneven as his fingers continue tweaking your hardened nipples.

He knows the pace he’s setting is slow— deliberate— but he wants you more aroused than you’ve ever been, dripping wet for him when he finally takes you.

With soft pants falling from your lips, one of his hands slides down to your waist, his index finger dipping into the hem of your skirt. He could very well just pull it up, sneak his hand underneath it, but he resists the temptation, determined to make you squirm in anticipation.

And you do, every purposeful touch kindling the fire within you until it’s a blazing inferno. Your blood boils in your veins, your skin beautifully flushed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’re in danger of overheating.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?” He mutters, letting the waistband of your skirt snap back against your skin. Your hips eagerly buck at the small sting, making it easy for him to tug it off and toss it onto the floor, and then he spreads your thighs apart to reveal a large damp spot in the middle of your panties. “Shit, so fuckin’ wet…” He curses, his eyes getting impossibly darker.

You nearly clamp your legs together as his eyes rove over you but the adoration in his expression bolsters you, gives you the confidence you need so badly. You stay still and let him look, trying to memorize the image of him between your thighs as he does.

Time seems to slow down. Seconds tick by and with each one that passes, you grow more and more uncomfortable. Your pussy aches, the desire he’s so carefully cultivated inside you becoming almost unbearable. But he either doesn’t notice the need swimming in your eyes, or he doesn’t care. He remains hovering over you, gaze zeroed in on your clothed cunt.

“Touch me,” the plea escapes you before you can stop it, and the corners of his lips tilt up into a small smirk. “Please.”

He hums as if he has to think about it. You’re about to start begging when his fingers press against you, applying enough pressure to make you mewl. “Don’t get greedy, princess.” He chastises gruffly, “You’ll take what I give you, remember?”

You nod obediently so he rewards you, circling your panty-clad clit until your hips are shifting back and forth. Moans fall freely from your lips but it still isn’t enough. You need more.

“Please,” you whine, eyebrows cinching together as you gaze up at him. “Draken, please…”

He hums again and hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties before dragging them down to your ankles. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.” Completely bared to him, apprehension saturates the air, your stomach doing backflips as he leans down and blows out a puff of air against your folds. When you clench at the sensation, a growl sounds. “Such a pretty little pussy.”

The pink flesh glistens in the dim lighting of the room, every inch soaked with arousal that drips down the inside of your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you. If you weren’t a virgin, he doesn’t think he’d even need to prep you.

Calloused fingers rub between your puffy folds, collecting your slick until his fingers are covered, and then one of his digits prods at your entrance, easing inside of you. Your back arches off the bed as he curves it in a come hither motion, your hands flying out to grip his shoulders. “Fuck..!”

You should be embarrassed at the deep laughter that leaves him but you can only focus on the way he’s knuckle deep inside of you, adding a second finger and beginning to thrust them both in and out. “Your reactions are s’cute. What if I were to just…” He trails off as he lowers down until he’s face-to-face with your pussy, and your hands strike out to grab his cheeks so you can hold him back.

“W-Wait..” You stammer before swallowing thickly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no… I just… No one’s ever…” Your blush spreads to the tips of your ears.

He cocks a brow up at you. “No one’s ever eaten you out?” But he already knows the answer. Your mortified expression is as good as any verbal indication. Shock flickers across his face, but he takes the new piece of information in stride, turning his head to the side and pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh. “Lemme taste you, baby. You don’t need to be shy.”

Your insecurities melt away under his encouragement but when you merely nod, he nips at your skin. “No, use your words.”

“O-Okay.” You breathe out shakily, “Go ahead.”

The words have barely left your mouth when you feel his lips wrap around your clit, his tongue expertly swirling around the sensitive bud and tearing a gasp from your throat. His fingers resume their curling motions, and suddenly a familiar sensation begins building in your stomach. It reminds you of all the times you’ve touched yourself, all of the times you’ve worked yourself into a frenzy chasing your orgasm. You’d rut against your pillow only for your legs to start trembling, too weak to climb the last few inches to the peak.

Admittedly, your legs do start to shake, your body tense and on the verge of locking up. It’s like you’ve conditioned it to expect the worst, that you’ll get close enough to taste the high and then be denied like all of the other times you’ve attempted to pleasure yourself.

“Draken,” you moan, the sound so depraved you don’t recognize your own voice, “Don’t stop— p-please, don’t stop..!”

A groan erupts from his chest as your walls tighten around his fingers and the vibrations of it cause another wave of heat to wash over you, threatening to pull you out to sea and drown you in its depths. You’re so close, closer than you’ve ever been before.

It’s when his mouth suctions around your clit that you’re flung off the precipice. Pleasure blooms out from between your thighs, shooting through your limbs and out to the tips of your fingers. Your eyes squeeze shut as it consumes you, bleeds into all your senses until you’re writhing around in the sheets, hands blindly grasping for something— anything— to ground you.

Even then, he doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking, keeps licking, long fingers thrusting inside of you to prolong the orgasm for as long as possible. “Good girl.” He praises, drawing away when you finally come to. You’re panting from the physical exertion, pupils blown with desire as you slowly lift your head to look down at him. His lips, cheeks, and chin are shiny with your slick, and you’d probably be embarrassed if you didn’t feel so lightheaded.

“Thank you… that was amazing..” And even that was a gross understatement.

Rising up from between your legs, there’s a smug expression on his face. “Save the thank-you’s for later, princess. We’re not done yet.” As if to emphasize his point, his hands drop down to start unbuckling his belt, your eyes following suit and widening into saucers when you see the bulge in the front of his pants.

“Oh my god.”

It’s… he’s huge.

You watch with bated breath as he unzips his pants and lets them drop around his ankles, your eyes boring holes into him when he pulls down his boxers and reveals both the prettiest and thickest cock you’ve ever seen. The shaft is long and curved, the tip flushed and leaking. A large vein runs down the entirety of the length and you swear if you look hard enough, you can see it pulsing.

He grips the base of it, stroking it a couple of times before prowling forward. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” A grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “Worried ‘s not gonna fit?”

“…Yes.” You squeak.

He chuckles at your candor, opening up a drawer on the bedside table and fishing out a small plastic square— a condom, you realize. It only takes him a moment to tear it open and slip it on, the action effortless from years of practice. “Don’t be scared. I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? I’m a man of my word if nothing else.”

Crawling onto the bed, he captures your lips in a kiss that can only be described as comforting. It’s slow and gentle, even when his tongue dips into your mouth, and his hands come up to cup your cheeks, holding you in such a way that you can’t help but feel cherished.

“I’m gonna start now,” he murmurs against your lips, “Remember, if you want me to stop, just say the word.” You nod in acknowledgment, and with that, he reaches down and lines himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock prodding at your center. “Squeeze me as tightly as you need.”

Your hands shoot out to grip his shoulders right as he starts to push inside of you and your nails bite into his skin at the stretch, leaving crescent indents behind. A strangled noise bubbles up from your throat when pain takes hold of you, burning bright like the sun in the middle of summer.

“I know,” he rasps, his lips ghosting over the edge of your jaw, “I know it hurts. But it’ll feel better soon, I promise.” Tears prick at your eyes as he pushes deeper inside you, but soon his fingers are circling over your clit, blending the pleasure and pain until one is indiscernible from the other. “Just breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

His movements are so controlled, it’s impressive— even as the slew of foreign sensations threatens to overwhelm you, you’re able to recognize that much. His brows are furrowed in concentration, his breaths coming out in hot puffs that skate across your heated skin. And ever so slowly, he works you open, sinking into you inch by inch. By the time he’s bottomed out, a thin sheen of sweat covers his forehead, his voice strained when he says, “You did so well, baby, ‘m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

You only whimper in response, turning your head to the side so your cheek is pressed against the pillow. You feel so full, inhumanely full. So much so that you’re genuinely surprised you haven’t been split in half because, for all intents and purposes, that’s what it’d felt like. Your only saving grace is the way he hasn’t stopped rubbing your clit, hasn’t stopped praising you for taking him so well.

It’s a testament to his self-restraint the way he manages to remain still, buried deep inside you, while he patiently waits for your walls to adjust to his size. If he were a lesser man, he’d push aside your comfort, neglect your needs and pound into you to relieve his aching cock. But he waits, waits until your pained whimpers morph into soft moans, until you start to squirm beneath him as your body tries to create the friction it needs so badly.

“Move,” you beg, your hands sliding down from his shoulder to grab onto his hips, attempting to move them yourself. “Please… need you to move..”

A pair of large hands tug yours away from his waist before they pin them down on either side of your head. There’s no real force behind the maneuver but you don’t fight him off as he threads your fingers between his, just like he did earlier this evening. “Look at me, (y/n). I want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

Tentatively, you turn your head so you’re staring up at him. You’re not sure what he sees but approval shines in his eyes and a sincere smile graces his lips. “Good girl.”

With your eyes glued on his, he finally starts to move, drawing his hips back and pushing into you in small, shallow thrusts. Your lips part into a gasp, your breath hitching every time he’s fully hilted inside of you. Tears line your lashes but this time, they aren’t from pain. They’re from pure, unadulterated pleasure— the all-encompassing kind that leaves you in tatters on the floor.

“Feels s’good.. So fuckin’ tight.” He groans, his pace speeding up as more moans pour from your lips. The sound of skin slapping skin ensues and you cry out when he shifts his angle, the tip of his cock hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll.

Your pleasure heightens and you think that this must be euphoria as your tears overflow, spilling down your cheeks and dropping onto the pillow beneath your head. Yet, you don’t look away from him. You don’t dare shy away from his gaze, not even when the coil inside you begins winding tight, warning you of your impending orgasm.

He squeezes your hands as your body goes taut. You’re panting now— sucking in breath after breath as your bodies collide— but you can’t seem to get enough air. Up you climb, higher and higher until you begin to tremble beneath him, your hands holding onto his like they’re a lifeline.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asks through gritted teeth, “Gonna cream on my cock?” He curses when you nod, dropping his forehead down so it rests against yours. “Well, go on then, princess. Make a fuckin’ mess.”

As if on command, the cord inside you abruptly snaps. A violent shudder wracks through your body, bliss clouding every single one of your five senses. It’s enough to wrench a deafening sob out of you, your back arching up off the bed so your chest is pressed firmly against his. He continues to drive into you as your walls pulsate around him and a growl reverberates up from his throat at the same time you feel his length twitch inside of you.

He stops after a few more thrusts, slowly pulling out of you and turning over to lie on his back. You whine quietly at the loss, but you’re too busy trying to catch your breath to complain.

“Shit…” He says, his head turning to look at you after a couple of minutes of silence, “How do you feel?”

Somehow, you summon up enough energy to smile through the exhaustion that’s seeped into your bones. “Definitely not like a virgin.”

He lets out a laugh at that, flashing you a brilliant white smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the sides. “Well, we’ve still got two hours left, sweetheart. Don’t go tappin’ out on me yet.”

#♡⃕ tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers #draken #ken ryuuguji #draken x reader #ken ryuuguji x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #i wrote this in a fever dream

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