asmalltinymoonz - Tumblr blog

asmalltinymoonz · 2 years

Text

this side of paradise | sanzu h.

sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

summary: a part of you couldn't help but resent mikey for dragging you down with him because you knew that he knew you weren't going to leave him behind. but you supposed that he made it all worth it--you just wished things were easier for the two of you.

genre: first kiss, forbidden love (?), fluff, light angst

warnings: fem!reader, kanto manji!sanzu, mentions of possessive behavior (mikey), implied ch. 241 spoilers but nothing explicit, unedited

notes: for @fuwushiguro's first kiss collab because i hyperfixated on it and managed to finish it in like 3 hours; @portfolio-of-dreams Vega, my love, thank u for helping me when I got stuck at the ending bc writer's block

You weren’t sure when he caught your eye, maybe he always had, but there was something about Sanzu Haruchiyo that drew you in like a moth to flame. Even before you officially met him, you had heard about him from your cousins, Mikey and Emma, both talked too much for their own good and Sanzu had been a presence in their life for just as long as you had, although he had gone by Akashi back then, you remembered.

You didn’t officially meet him until you were forced to move into the Sano household for good after a nasty divorce between your parents that had your father moving halfway across the world without another world and your mother turning to alcohol and losing custody of you. If it hadn’t been for Shinichiro’s quick action, you would’ve been dragged off by child protection services and thrown into a foster home before you could blink.

You wondered, sometimes, if misfortune followed you because barely a few weeks after you moved into the Sano household, Shinichiro was killed by two of Mikey’s friends in an awful accident, and then two years later, Baji Keisuke and Emma met the same fate.

How did it all go to shit?

You couldn’t even remember, you realized, as you stared out across the city, eyes trained on the streets below as your feet dangled off the side of the building. Less than a year after Emma died, Mikey cut ties off with the rest of his friends violently and left you hanging in between, unsure of what to do because Mikey was your family but you couldn’t understand what was happening.

For better or for worse, when Mikey forced you to choose, you chose him--you hadn’t seen any of the others since then, being dragged right down into Tokyo’s underworld with him as he formed the Kanto Manji Gang. A part of you wondered if you made the right choice by staying with Mikey, sometimes you questioned it--he had changed after Shin died, and especially after Baji and Emma died. He wasn’t the same Mikey that you knew when you were younger--you had always known something was off with him, something unstable, but it had gotten exponentially worse after all of those tragic events occurred.

Should you have stayed with them? you wondered, thoughts wandering back to Draken and Mitsuya and Chifuyu and all of the others you had left behind but-

“You shouldn’t be hanging so close to the edge,” a quiet voice said from behind you, startling you. Your eyes widened as you turned to look at the figure who had arrived on the roof with you, and your shoulders relaxed as you recognized the long-pink hair and droopy blue eyes trained on you.

“Haru,” you said quietly, and you answered your own question as a warm feeling spread throughout your chest at the sight of Sanzu standing behind you.

Haru, you thought to yourself, eyes trailing across his figure. He’s always been here, hasn’t he? Right since the beginning. Sanzu Haruchiyo had been a figure that had always been around, one that you had always been aware of--quiet and always hovering somewhere in the background. He never talked much, especially when you were all younger, he tended to keep to himself unless spoken to.

You never really became close to him until all of the shit went down between Mikey and his other friends, and Sanzu was the only one to follow Mikey to the Kanto Manji Gang from the old crew. He was your only saving grace, really, because you hated the Kanto Manji Gang. They were awful, cruel, and you didn’t know anybody except Sanzu and Mikey and Kokonoi Hajime, but the latter two were always way too busy to keep an eye on you when you were hanging around the gang which left Sanzu the only one able to stay with you while you were waiting for Mikey to get done with gang business--his presence warding off all of the other creepy men in the gang.

You had become close to him these past few years primarily because of that, he had become the person you spent most of your time with and while he still didn’t talk too often--you had to lead conversations with him--he at least had become more comfortable with you.

“Come back inside,” Sanzu said, “You’ll get sick, it’s cold.”

“I’d rather stay out here,” you murmured, watching as Sanzu’s eyes narrowed in on you, evaluating you. You let out a soft breath, knowing damn well he was going to figure out that something was wrong because if Sanzu Haruchiyo was good at one thing, it was reading people.

“They were bothering you,” he realized and you only shrugged.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you told him, and it was the truth. Whenever Mikey or Sanzu or Kokonoi weren’t around, the men of the Kanto Manji Gang loved to try to get with you, some more aggressive than others. You watched as Sanzu tensed, eyes darting back toward the stairwell leading back into the building before redirecting his attention back toward you.

“Tell me who,” he said and you shook your head, ignoring the flinty look in his eyes at your refusal. Sanzu Haruchiyo was quiet, yes, but he had a short fuse--one that was even shorter when it came to you or Mikey getting disrespected--and you didn’t want him to get thrown in jail for beating someone to death on your behalf. “Y/n,” he said sharply, and it was hard to hold the line as you listened to how prettily your name rolled off his tongue.

You weren’t sure when you had developed feelings stronger than that of just friends for Sanzu Haruchiyo but you did, and you tried your best to push them away because you were sure that he didn’t feel the same because Sanzu was good at reading people, yes, but especially you and you had no doubt that he knew exactly how you felt about him. And if Sanzu Haruchiyo was good at a second thing, it was getting what he wants, so you could only assume that he did not, in fact, want you.

“Tell me who it was,’ Sanzu asked again. Relentless, you thought with a sigh, rising to your feet and walking toward him as you shook your head.

“No, Haru,” you said, “Let’s just go inside.”

You moved to step past him but his arms darted out immediately, hands curling around your forearms to stop you in place and pull you back toward him. You inhaled sharply, eyes wide as you looked up at him and you swore all of the breath was ripped from your lungs as his eyes met yours, sharp and searching for an answer on your face.

He was close, too close, it was suffocating. His fingers burned your skin from where his hands were tight around your forearms, a sharp contrast to the chilly wind howling around the two of you, holding you so close to him that your bodies were nearly brushing up against each others. A shaky breath left your parted lips and you felt oddly exposed as his eyes traced your face. You had never been good at hiding your emotions and you were sure he could read every little thought running through your head--Sanzu, on the other hand, was exceptionally good at hiding how he felt, and that mask he always wore certainly didn’t help you.

Your eyes trailed down to the piece of cloth in question, wondering what, exactly, he looked like behind it that he felt the need to wear it 24/7. You had never seen him without the mask, and you had never gathered up the nerves to ask him about it. You asked Mikey about it, once, and his reaction was less than pleasant--you were sure that it had been the only time your cousin was genuinely angry at you.

“Why do you always wear it?” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them and you swallowed thickly, praying that you didn’t upset or anger Sanzu with your question but he didn’t look too bothered.

“There’s nothing worth seeing underneath it, nobody’d want to see it,” he responded and your brows furrowed at the comment, trying to figure out what exactly he meant by that.

“I disagree,” you said quietly, feeling his grip tighten on your arms slightly, “I would like to see, Haru.”

He stared at you for a moment and for once, you could read the expression on his face--conflicted, tense, anxious, even. And just as you were about to tell him that it was okay if he didn’t want you, you didn’t want to pressure him into doing something he didn’t want to, he released your arms, bringing his hands to his face to curl around the cloth of the mask. He hesitated for a moment, eyes meeting yours once more--looking for something, you realized, and he must’ve found whatever he was looking for because you could only watch as he tugged the cloth off from over his face.

Your lips parted as your eyes trailed from his and down to his lower face, taking in a quiet breath as your gaze focused in on the diamond-shaped scars marring the corners of his lips.

Oh, you thought, a sick feeling growing in your stomach as you wondered how exactly he managed to obtain those scars and why your cousin had such an awful reaction to you questioning him about what was underneath Sanzu’s mask.

Could he… your eyes flickered up to Sanzu’s.

Don’t, his gaze bordered on pleading, clearly understanding what thoughts must be running through your head.

Okay, you agreed silently, and despite the curiosity burning through your chest, you shoved the thoughts away because you were sure it had taken a lot for Sanzu to even take his mask off and you didn’t want to push him even further past his comfort zone by asking questions he didn’t want to answer.

You lifted your hand up slightly, before you even realized what you were doing, and Sanzu leaned back instinctively, shoulders tense and lips pressed together tight. You hesitated, can I? on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t need to ask, you realized, as you watched Sanzu’s body relax again, returning to its original position. Your eyes met his, which were still wary as he eyed you, but he nodded slightly.

You let out a soft puff of air as you reached back up, fingers brushing his cheekbones lightly as you cupped his face. Sanzu let out a faint breath and you couldn’t help but notice how he leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut when your fingertips made contact with his skin. You forced your eyes back down to his scars, letting your thumbs trace over the outline of the diamonds, unable to help but notice how rough the scarred skin was in comparison to the rest of his skin.

How bad had this must’ve hurt, Haru? you wondered silently, and you weren’t just considering the physical pain of the scars. You felt sick, really, swallowing thickly to try to rid the bile that was rising in your throat. Your heart felt as if it had dropped in your chest as you watched Sanzu press his cheek into your palm lightly. When was the last time anyone touched you gently?

Not anytime recently, you were sure, from how he was reacting to just a simple touch and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning in. You pressed your lips against the diamond-shaped scar on the right corner of his lips softly. He inhaled sharply at the touch, breath shaky against your ear, and before you could lose the sudden burst of courage, you leaned back and repeated the action to the scar marring the left corner of his lips.

“Y/n,” his voice was little over a breath as your lips lingered against the scarred skin. You pulled back slightly, eyes searching his face and for the first time in years, you could clearly read the expression on Sanzu’s face. The confliction from how his brows were furrowed and his lips were pressed together, the longing from how he kept his cheek leaned against your palm and… fear? Was that fear in his eyes? “We shouldn’t,” he swallowed nervously, eyes darting behind you, “Mikey, he-”

And realization hit you like a ton of bricks--realization that maybe Sanzu did feel the same all of the years but refused to act on it in fear of how your cousin would react. Mikey was possessive and obsessive to the people he loved, and you were the only person he really had left--even you weren’t sure if you wanted to know how he would react to you starting to see someone--and on top of that, his temper had only gotten thinner over the years. But…

You couldn’t help but remember the way Sanzu would always be the first to search for you around the Kanto Manji base, immediately making his way toward you so he could make sure no one was making you uncomfortable; the way he always treated you so gently in comparison to how he was with everybody else, never raising his voice and always touching you softly; the way that when you were in a room crowded full of people, his eyes would always be on you--even if he was across the room standing with Mikey, his gaze never strayed too far from you.

And for a second, just a second, you hated Mikey. You hated how possessive he was, you hated how you had to worry over every little thing you did in fear of him lashing out at you or the people you cared about, and you hated how you were worried about being with the man you love because Mikey might beat him to death for being with you.

You smoothed your thumbs over Sanzu’s scars, watching as his eyes fluttered shut again at the action, and your throat felt tight as your eyes flickered down to his lips, wondering if they were even half as soft as they looked. It wasn’t fair, you thought desperately, it wasn’t fuckin’ fair.

You had never kissed someone before, by the time you were old enough to be interested in it, you had Mikey breathing down your shoulder whenever it came to trying to find a boyfriend. But… you never really wanted to kiss anyone before Haru anyway, and…

You wanted to kiss him, you wanted to be with him and it was unfair that-

Mikey wouldn’t know, you told yourself, just one kiss and-

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were leaning forward, hoping and praying that all of the romance books you read would be enough to get you through this because you had no idea what you were doing. You pressed your lips against his softly and anxiety curled through you when he didn’t react, his body freezing under your touch momentarily.

Just as you were about to pull away, Sanzu’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him as he moved his lips against yours--hesitant, you noted, and you wondered if Sanzu was just as inexperienced as you were when it came to this and then you remembered how he never took his mask off and realized he probably was. More at ease with the recent conclusion, one of your hands slid behind his head to intertwine with his hair while the other stayed cupping his cheek, thumb tracing the outline of one of his scars.

Sanzu let out a shaky breath against your lips, tilting his head to the side so he could deepen the kiss, lips sliding against yours and tongue darting out to swipe your bottom lip. It was a little messier than you expected from the books you read, but you supposed that was normal.

He tasted faintly of spices and cinnamon and you couldn’t get enough of it. You had imagined this moment so many times over the past few years and somehow it managed to exceed all of your fantasies, even if it wasn’t as picture perfect as you expected. You leaned in impossibly closer, bodies flush against one another and teeth nearly clashing as the soft kiss became more frantic--desperate, even--after all of these years of silently pining, only being held back by the fear of Mikey’s retaliation when he finds out.

After a few moments, you had to break from the kiss, chest heaving as you tried to breathe in the air you hadn’t been inhaling prior. Sanzu kept his forehead resting gently against yours, and the sensation of breathing in the air he was exhaling nearly had you dizzy. Your eyes met his and your grip tightened slightly on his cheek, scared to let go because you were sure now that you had gotten a taste of him, you wouldn’t be able to let it go.

“I want to be with you,” you said quietly, and you hated how your voice was shaky and your fingers were trembling against his skin.

“Mikey…” he began quietly but you cut him off.

“We can hide it from him, Haru,” you said helplessly, and you were being selfish, so fucking selfish because if Mikey found out, it wouldn’t be you bearing the consequences, it would be Sanzu facing Mikey’s wrath. “I want you, only you, all these years, all I’ve wanted is you and-”

“You think I don’t feel the same?” Sanzu asked, grip on your waist tightening almost painfully, “Of course, I-”

“Then give us one chance,” you hated begging, “Haru, we can hide it from him, I promise. He won’t find out.”

And Sanzu looked conflicted again, his brows knit together again and his gaze shifting between longing and fear and you couldn’t help but wonder about what might have happened between him and Mikey to make Sanzu this worried because Sanzu Haruchiyo was a lot of things but he was not a coward and it made you feel as if there was something more going on than he was willing to talk about--your eyes flickered back down to the scars on his lips.

You swallowed the questions rising to your throat--you couldn’t press on anymore, you had pushed him enough today, he would tell you when he was ready. It was something worth waiting for--he was worth waiting for, you realized as your thumbs traced the outline of scars one more time. The fond, shared looks over the years, the slight brushes of your shoulders as the two of you walked down the street to your favorite cafe and his lips--the soft, pretty lips that tasted like cinnamon and spices and you just couldn’t get enough of.

You couldn’t stop yourself as you leaned in one last time, ghosting your lips gently against the scar decorating the left corner of his lips. You let your lips linger there for a moment, feeling him squeeze your waist lightly as he let out a quiet sigh. Finally, you pulled back, taking a step back from him and the cold wind around you became ever present again once you were away from his warmth, his hands falling limp back to his sides.

“We should get back, Don’t want them getting suspicious,” you said lightly, watching as the anxiety that had been tainting his gaze melted away and he moved forward so quickly that you barely had time to react as his hands cupped your face and he pressed his lips against yours, blunt nails digging into your skin as he held onto you like a lifeline, noses nearly bumping and teeth almost clashing but you didn’t care, all you cared about was him and being with him and you didn’t want to let go. Your hands rested against his forearms, curling around them tightly.

Sanzu broke the kiss earlier than you had hoped for, “Okay,” he said, voice hoarse, and you had genuinely forgotten what you had said until he added, “Let’s go back down.”

Disappointed, you nodded beginning to walk toward the stairwell leading back down to the base. Before you could get too far away, Sanzu grabbed your wrist, causing you to look back at him, “We can’t let him find out,” he said quietly, and your eyes brightened as you realized what exactly that meant.

You squeezed his hand lightly, “We won’t,” you promised and though Sanzu still looked wary, his grip tightened around your hand before he let go, motioning for you to start walking back toward the stairwell.

And as the two of you made your way over, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips when you noticed Sanzu shoving his mask into his pocket instead of putting it back on his face.

***

notes: haru is the loml and there's a good chance i'll make this a multi-parter if it does well

853 notes · View notes

asmalltinymoonz · 2 years

Text

sum muchos

421 notes · View notes

asmalltinymoonz · 2 years

Text

my favorite thing about hanma isnt like "oh he's crazy and hed make my life exciting" or "oh he can solve all my problems by pulling a few strings." its like...he's just a dude that thinks with his feelings. he likes the way punching teeth in makes him feel ?? he does it. he likes the way the rush of adrenaline makes him feel ?? he chases it. he likes the way causing trouble makes him feel ?? he causes it. if he likes how it makes him feel, nothing can stop him. so if you make him feel good, just by laughing at something he says, or grabbing his hand when you stumble, or kissing the cracked skin of his knuckles, or blindly trusting him even though you know who he is and what he does—then he thinks you're good too. sure, maybe you're technically not the most exciting thing in his wild ass life...but he likes the way you make him feel, and that's all he knows, so he still gets excited about you

34 notes · View notes

asmalltinymoonz · 2 years

Note

CAT PLS, I CAN’T. WHY YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEEE?!?😭 Legit had me crying over this chapter but it’s also so fucking good had me punching my pillows.🤜

Like I know I say this every time but this flashback was so good! I really love the bickering with Rin over terrible dye jobs, its funny and cute and I love how it just shows that we’re still kids and just playing around. Pffft and is Rin doing that thing where you bully your crush by making us think we’re gunna hit the swing pole? He was so proud of himself for that one lol.

The boys making the streets safe for us just has me like 😍I love it, its so cute and just goes to show how much they love us even if one of them hasn’t fully realized it yet. Pffft all the goons know us so that they can tattle on us to Ran and Rin, its too funny.

Ugh you did so good with this flashback and keeping Ran’s feelings under wraps until the end of it, I was truly stumped over what his issue was. You didn’t say but was it Ran that tucking us into bed when we tried to wait up for him? I could also see Rin doing it as well because he’s also probably staying up late waiting for Ran too.

I love how concerned we are for not only Ran who definitely has a lot on his mind but also Rindou who’s greatly affected by what Ran is doing, really shows how attached we are to both of them. HNNNNG the “I love yous” are coming out! Granted it's in a more familial way but still as someone who will tell anyone I care for that I love them whether it's family, friends, or lovers I really enjoyed seeing this interaction with us and Ran. You wrote it in a way that seemed very nonchalant and kind of a “matter of fact” but yet lost no meaning behind the statement.

Ran and his conflicting feelings, I get it he’s not sure how to feel about his love for us and probably has many legit reasons to try and deny them. Like there’s the issue of differences in class and the fact that our future is laid out for us and he probably can’t see himself in that type of future. Then there’s the issue that we clearly, at least for now, see him and Rin only as family. I know I’ve already said a couple times that I think Rindou would be the one to step back so Ran could have us but now I think they’re both going to do it, Ran’s doing it on purpose because he wants to see Rin happy and Rin would probably do it because I feel like he will have a much harder time coming to terms with his love for us than Ran did. Ran’s dejected “I love you too” had my heart clenching I can’t. 😓

I fucking knew that slimy bastard set the auction hall explosions off on purpose! And while I get his reasons, they’re stupid asf, what if we had died?!? Or our boys had died?!? I swear to god I would be raising hell. And Senju did have ulterior motives, I hope she’s ok then she can come join us and we’ll destroy this Sugawara bih, I hate him.🤬

I was pretty much crying over the rest of the chapter from this point, my poor baby! I just want him to be safe and we said hurtful things and the fact that he showed on his face how much it affected him really got me, my heart it hurts😢 . Hnnng and bringing back memories of the loving things we’ve said in between the hurtful things we said fucking straight had tears in my eyes, I just couldn’t even imagine how hurt Ran was. What makes it worse is that while he has to sit and hear this stuff from us, he also has to come to terms that he is likely going to die here. And while I get we need to act like he’s nothing to us to even try and keep him alive long enough for us to save him but he doesn’t know that, we’ve gotten so good at masking our emotions over the years he has no idea and truly believed what we said. Omg and when Ran started to get tears in his eyes is when mine started to fall, him yelling for us and we don’t stop but we do for Hanma, I can’t even imagine how abandoned he felt from that. I can’t even talk about how I felt over Ran being beaten, it just hurts, I wouldn’t be strong enough to hide my feelings I would be going ballistic at this point, which would suck cuz then we’d both probably be dead.

So more light is shed on Hanma and his possible motives, so he doesn’t seem to have ulterior motives he just likes chaos and people who will shake things up and that’s us right now. Tbh having him on our side will be a great asset since he knows the ins and outs of this group we’re supposed to be working with and he has their trust. Hanma admitting we remind him of Kisaki kinda had me feeling sad for him cuz he misses him and also kinda confused, like how are we similar other than the fact that we’re going to shake things up🤔 ? I know you said you have plans for Hanma but is it bad that I want him to develop feelings for us? It’ll make for more jealous scenes in the future lol. 😈

UGHHH CAT! This chapter hurt me, hurt my heart so much. I just want our boys to be safe and happy and I just want to be safe and happy with them. 🥺

JSKSJSKJSJS I WAS GENUINELY SO SAD WRITING THIS CHAPTER </3 i didn’t wanna do it but i had to 😞

PLEASE RIN LMAOOOO he’s so obviously in love it’s adorable i cry. AND YES LMAO you know damn well that we’ve tried to convince their little minions to let it slide but they know damn well that rindou n ran would beat the shit out of them if they did so they never do 😭

SOBS SOBS PAST US WAS ALWAYS SO OPEN WITH HOW MUCH WE LOVED BOTH OF THEM, they literally never questioned it at all so they were so thrown off when we came back n especially when we started getting all cold with them 🥹

sugawara had set the first explosion off — the small one, which should have only been confined to the distant basement so tbh there was really no worry of us or hanma getting caught up in it. but then 🥹 someone but the big boys in there n that set off the larger one 🥹 YO if ran or rindou had gotten killed in the explosion we would have LOST it like it would have gotten so messy

SOBS SOBS SOBS I WAS STRUGGLNG SO HARD WITH THE RAN SCRNE AND THEN THE SFTERMSTH WITH OUR UNCLE BECAUSE INWANTED TO DO IT JUSTICE😭 sobs sobs i also didn’t even want to write it LMAO, because of course when i’m having to write ran getting tortured it’s the week i start going back into heavy ran brainrot🥹 i was struggling so hard i was literally so upset writing it i just wanted 2 give him hugs

JSKIDSKDID IM YELLING I WANT 2 TELL YOU ALL WHAT I HAVE PLANNED FOR HANMA BUT IT WONT BE TIL THE LAST TWO CHAPTERS IM SO EXCITED FOR IT

MWAH MWAH MWAH ILYSM

3 notes · View notes

asmalltinymoonz · 2 years

Text

Am I crazy or does this jellyfish look like bonten sanzu?

229 notes · View notes

asmalltinymoonz · 2 years

Text

12:17 PM | sanzu h.

sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

summary: post-toman vs kanto manji gang fight, you visit your boyfriend in the hospital.

warnings: spoilers for most recent chapter but none other than that — telling you rn yn does not give af about the train situation 😍 cuz yn is practically me in this and all i care ab is him — implied timeleaper sanzu, kakucho survives

notes: i wrote this in an hour at work diosidisjd ignore spelling/grammar errors LMAO

tags: @kxeyas @sano-obsessed @dear-xiao @thomaphoria @kisakiapologist @scandescent @tokyometronetwork

wordcount: 1.3k

you stared at him, head tilted to the side, lips parted in shock. “you… what?”

sanzu glared up at you from where he was sitting up in the hospital bed, you bit down on your lower lip, trying to hide the smile that rose to your face.

“fuck off,” he said, but the words were half-hearted and counteracted by the red flush that spread across his face.

you giggled, moving to sit on the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around him as he leaned into you. you turned your head to the side, pressing your lips against the side of his head as he rested his head against your chest, long lashes fluttering shut.

“who just drives a fucking motorcycle into someone?” sanzu muttered petulantly, voice muffled against you, and you desperately tried to hide another giggle, pressing your face against the top of his head, burying your face into his hair.

“probably someone with the same mindset of someone that brings a katana to a fist fight. or someone that brings a train to a fist fight,” you murmured, and your arms tightened slightly around him as he bristled like an angry cat.

“it would have been efficient,” he said, not looking at you, and your eyes narrowed.

“haruchiyo,” you warned, voice low, and sanzu slumped back into you, letting out a long breath against you as his eyes slid shut.

“no one died,” he argued.

“kakucho almost did,” you countered, “or did you forget he’s in the hospital room across the hall? i’ve had to fend off all of the remaining s62 generation from coming in here and beating you to death in your hospital bed, and let me tell you the haitanis are persistent.”

sanzu didn’t reopen his eyes but his lips turned down, his fingers rubbing soft patterns on your leg as he rested against you.

“i’m sorry,” he said, and you let out a soft sigh, bringing your free hand up to cup his cheek, lifting his face from your chest. his eyes fluttered back open at the touch, pretty blue ones looking right back up at you. you leaned in and pressed your lips against his gently, thumb tracing the scar on the right corner of his lip.

“you scared me,” your throat was tight as you spoke the words aloud for the first time. “you scared me a lot, haruchiyo. i wouldn’t have even known what was going on if kokonoi hajime hadn’t gone out of his way to find me after the fact. when he told me…”

your grip around him tightened instinctively and he let out a hiss, a grimace flashing across his face. you loosened your hold immediately, running soothing circles over his skin as an apology.

sanzu didn’t respond, you took in another shaky breath, letting him rest his head back against your chest. you brought your own palm to press against the skin above his heart, the steady thump putting you at ease.

sanzu covered the back of your hand with his palm, wincing as he let out an exhale.

“promise me you’ll stop with this,” and you knew it was useless to ask. sanzu would never stop so long as mikey was around. a part of you genuinely hoped that hanagaki takemichi had gotten through to the other boy because you were sick and tired of sanzu coming home hurt—this was too close of a call. you weren’t sure how much more you could handle.

he didn’t respond, he didn’t even open his eyes to acknowledge your words and you had half a mind to slap him for ignoring you but you supposed that the silence was answer enough. you grit your teeth tight, grateful that he wasn’t looking at you so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes watered.

“promise me you’ll be more careful,” you amended, “and you’ll stop with these ridiculous plans.”

“… fine,” he agreed after a moment, “i’ll be more careful.”

you very much noticed how he avoided the second half of your statement, but you supposed you could press later. you were happy with the current progress and didn’t want to push your luck.

“hanagaki came here,” sanzu’s eyes flew back open at your words, a sort of panic and wariness that you’d never quite seen in him before. your lips tugged down at the reaction and you leaned in to press your lips against his forehead, watching as his eyes fluttered back shut and he relaxed back into your arms. “he only wanted to talk, you were still sleeping though.”

“keep telling him that,” he murmured, “i don’t want to talk to him.”

“you were the one that tried to kill him,” you pointed out and sanzu’s brow furrowed.

“no, that’s not why,” he said. he didn’t elaborate and you wondered, briefly, what you were missing but sanzu didn’t seem inclined to explain.

you sighed, burying your face into his hair and shutting your eyes, “you’re gonna kill me, haruchiyo, all this worry and stress…”

sanzu gripped the forearm of the arm you had wrapped around him tightly, “don’t say that,” his voice was hoarser than you expected and he had tensed, trying to sit up and you opened your eyes again, confused. worry hit you hard when you noticed the haunted, genuinely distressed look on his face. “i don’t care what i have to do, you’ll live. okay? i won’t let you die, not aga-“

he cut himself off abruptly and you drowned deeply:

“haruchiyo,” you began, bringing one hand up to rest against his cheek but his hand darted up to catch it, holding it tight.

“okay?” he asked more urgently, and you forced yourself to nod, unsure of where the sudden burst of emotion had come from but you needed him to relax before he aggravated his wounds.

“okay,” you said softly, and he let out a shaky breath, resting back against you. you returned to holding him, arms gentle around his thin form, hand pressed against his chest to feel his steady heartbeat. “you should get some more rest.”

“i’m not tired,” sanzu protested but his eyes were drooping shut even as he spoke the words. you giggled as you kissed the top of his head again, fingers running gently through his soft, pink hair, lulling him to sleep.

“sleep,” you murmured, and he hummed against you.

“no,” he said, and you nearly rolled your eyes but instead only smiled against the top of his head as his breath slowly began to even out.

“one day,” you said softly, as to not startle him from how he was slowly dozing off, “you’re gonna tell me everything.”

his voice was slurred and sleepy as he agreed, “one day.”

816 notes · View notes

asmalltinymoonz · 2 years

Text

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞; 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐝

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: it doesn’t matter if you’re not their biological younger sibling -when you decided to move in with the haitani brothers you sealed the deal with the devil and now you’re the owner of one over-protective beauty queen who always needs to be in your buisness and a messy sports nerd who plays his awful mixtapes all day long. You still love them, even if you would like a break from their weird habit to gatekeep you from time to time. Or; how the haitani brothers would act if they had a younger (not blood related) sibling who just wants to have a date

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘: Haitani Ran, Haitani Rindou

𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: after the new character book came out I couldn’t stop thinking about them being so human and dumb -I love my awkward boys so much.

Can you guess who your date is in this story?

Reader is gender neutral but wears a dress here.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Ran being the absolut worst, cursing, threats of violence, Ran-centric, dialoug heavy, slight slut shaming if you squint but also not really

The first thing you noticed when you joined the Haitani household and their spacious apartment was that there was always something to do.

From picking up the empty bottles and snacks from one of Rindou´s parties to cold washed clothes blocking the bathtub, waiting to be dried.

Your first instinct was to clean up their mess but after the third time of Ran just dumping his laundry in front of you -seemingly getting a little too comfortable with leaving the clean up to you- you snapped, resulting in a screaming match between you and Ran while Rindou sat on the couch terrified of the both of you.

Throughout the years you learned it was useless to try running after them, they would eventually clean up when they had to, even if it was only because the place got so messy Rindou couldn´t find his glasses anymore and Ran was unable to sit down without wrinkling one of his expensive designer clothes.

When Ran comes home today though, he is greeted with the unusual sight of you buzzing through the kitchen, washing the dirty and already clean dishes while listening to music. In general, the apartment looked more tidied up than when the brothers first moved in, only having two beds and a few boxes to fill the apartment.

something is wrong.

Keep reading

1K notes · View notes

asmalltinymoonz · 2 years

Text

high enough | haitani r.

haitani ran x fem!reader

summary: ran didn't know why he kept coming back to you when he knew the risks involved--or he supposed he did, he just wasn't willing to confront it yet.

warnings: sub!reader, dom!ran, bonten timeline, unprotected sex, a bit of gentle manhandling, mentions of gang violence and wealth disparities, angst + hurt/comfort undertones (? kind of i guess)

notes: ty teepot n eris n (eventually) kat for betaing sobs @sakusins @kxeyas @sano-obsessed

y'all this piece might be the one im most proud of i s2g i actually love how it turned out

He didn’t know why he was here. The air was cold against his skin, bitter on his tongue and the sky was dark, the only thing illuminating the street around him was the distant, flickering street lamps. Sirens and gunshots resounded through the air--a few streets away, he pinpointed, too close to you.

He should move you out of this area, but as soon as the thought raced through his head, he felt distinctly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t care this much. He shouldn’t care at all, really. You were a nobody--a random girl he had met at a bar a few months back that he used to relieve the stress that being a Bonten executive weighed on him.

But if you were a nobody, then why did he keep coming back?

It was easy for him to rationalize if he ignored a few important points. Sleeping around put him more at risk in regards to dangerous situations--fuck around with the wrong person and he might just be ending the night with a bullet lodged in his skull or a knife cutting open his neck. Sticking to one person, at the very least, lowered those chances.

But even as the thoughts ran through his head, he knew that it wasn’t so simple. Sticking with one person brought other risks--risks of leaking sensitive information, risks of enemies pinpointing a possible weakness. It brought vulnerabilities that he just wasn’t quite able to accept because it would ruin any possible rationalization he might have to come back to you so often.

A particularly loud gunshot caught his attention, narrowed eyes shifting down the street toward where it came from, fingers drifting to curl around the loaded gun holstered at his waist. You lived in one of the shittier parts of the city--an area caught in the crossfires of the brutal, ongoing gang war between Bonten and its rivals.

It was dangerous for him to be here, the logical part of his brain reminded himself. There were hits on his head with bounties that would put oligarchs to shame, coming to this part of town with no back up, no one knowing where he was, no plan in case things went wrong, it was as good as a death wish and yet he found himself at your doorstep every other night.

He was playing a dangerous game, a game of Russian roulette that he knew would end with him losing but he couldn’t bring himself to stop pulling the trigger.

Go back to the apartment, he told himself but even as the thought raced through him he was pulling the trigger yet again--fist rising to knock heavily on your door.

It was late--well past two in the morning but you were a night owl, you were usually up til the sun rose and slept well into the afternoon. And a part of him wondered if he had any hand in your odd sleeping schedule, he was sure that it hadn’t been this fucked before the two of you met but the thought conjured a warm feeling in his chest that he wasn’t willing to try to decipher.

He waited a few moments before his chest began to curl anxiously.

Why weren’t you answering?

His nails dug into his palm as he considered what to do--knock again? leave?

He brought his fist back up against the door, knuckles rapping hard and rapidly against the wood. A series of worst case scenarios began to flood his mind--what if they realized what you were to him?

You weren’t anything to him, he tried to argue back immediately but the sinking feeling in his chest was proof enough that you did mean something to him.

His throat felt like it was closing up, the air around him becoming heavy, suffocating, he couldn’t breathe--images of you limp and bloody on the other side of the door flashing through his head, tied up and scared, wounded and unable to move, dead. He ignored the way his hands shook as he took a step back, preparing to kick in the door himself just so he could make sure you were alright.

But he didn’t have to. Just as he was about to drive his foot into the door, it unlocked from the other side and a numbing sense of relief swept through him as his eyes fell upon you standing in the doorframe, eyes sleepy and confused and trained on him.

He could breathe again.

Another blank.

Your nightgown hung off your shoulders as you brought a hand up to rub at your left eye, a yawn slipping past your lips, “Ran,” you murmured, “I didn’t think you were coming tonight, I would’ve stayed up. ‘m sorry. How long were you waiting?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” his voice was colder than he intended for it to be and he hated the way your lips tugged down, and he hated himself for being this way, “I can go.”

“No,” you reached out, your smaller hand grabbing his and he stiffened instantly. Your hand dropped back to your side when you noticed his reaction, “Come in, it’s late, you looked exhausted.”

Ran opened his mouth to protest but didn’t get the chance, “Please,” you said quietly and Ran faltered, eyes unable to meet yours.

It’s late, whatever is going on down the street is getting closer--it isn’t smart for him to be wandering around in this area with the Bonten tattoo branding his throat, he rationalized as he stepped into your home.

“You need to be more careful,” Ran said as you shut the door behind him, relocking the door with a flimsy chain that even Kokonoi Hajime would be able to kick down if he wanted to. He would have to get it replaced with a stronger one. “What if it wasn’t me behind that door?”

Your lips pulled up into a soft smile that did something to his heart that he did not like. You looked back at him from over your shoulder, “I’m not one to linger on ‘what ifs’,” you told him. Ran looked down at the floor, unsure of how you could live so carefree in such a dangerous area. “You should go change out of that, I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

You didn’t wait for a response, walking in the opposite direction. He only stared after you for a moment, lips turned down, eyes heavy as you disappeared from sight. And Ran tried to pretend that he didn’t know the way through your home like the back of his hand, despite the confusing twists and turns of your hallways, ones that most people would end up getting lost in. He tried to pretend he didn’t recognize every little ding in the wall, every little stain in the wallpaper; he tried to pretend that he didn’t know which floorboards to step over, the ones that were worn out due to storms and the passage of time that you couldn’t quite afford to get redone.

His shoulders were tense and stiff as he pushed open the door to your bedroom and he still continued to pretend--he pretended that the clothes tucked away in one of your drawers weren’t ones that he had ended up leaving during one of his nights staying over, ones you washed and cleaned despite the fact that you could barely afford detergent and your washing machine was on its last legs, even if it meant taking out some of your own clothes to tuck his away safely in your dresser.

He ran his fingers through his hair, purple and black strands falling loose around his face. He let out a heavy breath, chest tight as he unbuttoned the red-stained shirt and tossed into the bin next to your dresser--casually, too casually, like he would in his own apartment.

He felt ill.

His eyes caught the cracked mirror resting against the wall by your dresser and his lips twisted even further down when he noticed the bruises lining the left side of his body—almost hidden, but not quite, by the dark tattoos decorating his skin.

You would notice, you always did.

He hesitated as he reached for one of the cloth undershirts of his that you had stored in your dresser, an uncomfortable feeling stirring in his chest. What was he doing? He shouldn’t be doing this.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

But it was addicting, you were addicting, you brought him a type of high that no amount of drugs or alcohol could hope to give him and he couldn’t bring himself to give it up, give you up. Even if he did know deep down it would be for the best; even if he knew it could get him killed, get you killed.

A shattering of glass, a shriek, the trigger was pulled again, this time by his invisible opponent.

Ran was moving in an instant, tearing out of your room without a second to waste. His shoes slammed against the floorboards, his lungs burned, his eyes were wide and he felt the world collapsing around him. Ran was fast, he knew that, he’d always been the fastest in whatever gang he was in--Tenjiku, Rokuhara Tandai, Kanto Manji, Bonten, no one could ever keep up with him--but in that moment he swore that time must have been against him, his feet felt like they were dragging against the floor, sinking in quicksand, it was like he was trying to run through waist-deep water and the tide kept pulling him back, preventing him from getting to you.

His heart was in his throat as he turned the corner into the kitchen, gun in hand--he hadn’t even noticed he had pulled it from where it had been strapped to his waist.

His heart was beating in his chest so loud that he was sure you could hear it, his eyes were wild as his gaze darted around, trying to figure out what had happened until his gaze fell upon you on the floor, eyes wide and trained on the gun in his hands.

You were on your hands and knees, glass shattered beneath you that you were trying to pick up with your bare hands, water pooling below you. His heart rate slowly calmed down once he realized what had happened--you dropped the glass. The raised gun fell to his side, his shoulders relaxed.

He could breathe again.

Another blank.

You gave him a small, apologetic smile, “‘m sorry,” you said again, and he hated when you apologized--especially to him, “the glass slipped.”

You were unbothered by the gun in his hand, relaxed even, and Ran wondered if that had to do with the fact that you were used to guns and violence considering the part of the city you lived in. Or was it that you just trusted him that much? The latter thought made that warm feeling in his chest return. He pushed it away.

He couldn’t move as he watched you clean up the glass, his feet were glued to the floor, holding him in place even as his mind told him to move forward and help you so you don’t end up cutting your hands.

He didn’t understand you. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. He didn’t know why you kept willingly letting him into your home. You knew who he was, what he did--you had to, even if he had never explicitly told you. Everybody knew what the tattoo branding his throat meant, and the area you lived in leaned heavily toward Bonten’s enemies and they had received plenty of intel that their rivals were using civilians as their eyes and ears to keep an eye on Bonten’s movements without risking their own men.

You knew who he was, what he did, you knew the risks that came with associating with him and yet every night he found himself at your doorstep, you opened your home, your arms, your bed for him. You took him, you gave him something to look forward to after long grueling days of blood and pain instead of drowning himself in drugs and alcohol trying and failing to forget old memories and what he had turned into, what he had dragged Rindou into.

It had never been enough, no matter what he took, no matter how much he drank, the memories haunted him, fear consumed him--fear of what could happen to him, to his few remaining friends, to Rindou.

It had never been enough--not until he met you at least, and all thoughts of trying to deny how much you meant to him disappeared as he watched you chat easily about your day at work. Your words went in one ear and out the other as his mind raced. You had become important to him quickly, too important, too quick. You had become the light to his darkness, your home a sort of sanctuary that he had never had experienced until he met you.

You were good to him--too good. Sometimes he wondered if he was ruining you, a poison that was slowly eating away at your health, an acid corroding your happiness, your stability, your future; and sometimes he wondered if this was just a cruel, elaborate ploy from his enemies, showing him what love was like and then ripping it away.

His world stilled, his vision tunneled onto you.

Showing him what?

Anxiety began to twist in his stomach, curl through his limbs, ice cold fear began to spread through his body and that familiar fight or flight feeling took hold as his breath quickened. Every instinct told him to run, protect himself--weakness, vulnerabilities, they weren’t allowed in his line of work. Every weakness brought disaster, every vulnerability brought death. He had seen it time and time again with friends and enemies alike.

You’ll get yourself killed, you’ll get her killed, and he was about to turn on his heel--flee your home in an effort to protect himself and the one thing that might bring him genuine happiness--but then you looked at him as you stood from the floor, tossing the shattered glass into the garbage can, and you smiled, and Ran was selfish. God, he was so fucking selfish because instead of turning on his heel and leaving--making the choice that ensure you weren’t targetted by his enemies in attempts to get to him--he moved forward.

You let out a soft hum of surprise as Ran brought his hands to your face, large palms cupping your cheeks, fingers tracing your skin, toying with your hair and you inhaled sharply when he pressed his lips to yours, gently at first, his lips moving slow in time with yours, a special dance that only the two of you knew.

He knew that it was wrong, that he was risking your safety for his own selfish desires, but Ran couldn’t stop himself. He tilted your head up, one hand sliding behind your head, fingers entangled with your hair to hold you impossibly closer, and he could feel your fingers trembling from where they were wrapped around his forearms, he could feel the way your eyes fluttered shut as you relaxed into his touch.

And Ran thought it was sickening how you could be so at ease with someone like him, so willing to give into him, so happy to give into him. He didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve you, he was selfish and inherently cruel and he was undeserving of your love when there were so many better men out there that could treat you better than he could, give you the stability and safety that you deserved.

But unfortunately for them, and unfortunately for you, Haitani Ran was not a good man--a good man would have let you go so that you could make the best of your life, would have given you the means to get out of this shitty area so you could live a life free of crime and danger. But Ran was not a good man, and instead of pushing you away like he should, his grip tightened.

His hands slid down your body, wrapping around your thighs to lift you and you gasped into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist and arms circling his shoulders. You pulled back slightly, lips parting to speak but Ran didn’t give you the chance, leaning in again to capture your lips with his, tongue tracing the inside of your bottom lip.

He knew you were probably confused, he could practically predict the question on your tongue--Ran had never been one to display affection like this, the most he kissed you was when he was half-drunk on your pussy and not thinking straight, and he didn’t want to answer the question you were bound to ask. He wasn’t ready to verbally admit the conclusion he had come to--verbally admitting it made it real, and Ran wasn’t ready to face the consequences of it being real.

And it was unfair to you, he knew it was. He kept you in limbo, wondering each night if he would show up, wondering what you really meant to him, and you deserved better than that, better than him.

His grip tightened on your thighs and you let out a soft moan into his mouth, your arms fell from around his shoulders, delicate hands coming up to his cheeks instead. Ran’s eyes slid shut as your fingers traced his cheekbones, nails drawing gentle patterns on his skin. And you always did this and he was quite sure he would never be used to it. His breath shuddered against your lips and he tried to hide it by kissing you deeper, his tongue running against yours, tasting the mint on your breath. You had always touched him softly, from the first night up until now, and it was another thing he would never understand because Ran was rarely ever gentle with you--he tried, he swore he tried but soft touches to your skin would always turn into bruising, borderline painful grips as he desperately tried to fuck away the pain and fear and stress that laid so heavy on his shoulders.

But it didn’t matter how many unintentional bruises he left on your hips and thighs, ones that caused his chest to swell up with guilt when he woke up before you the next morning to slip out before you could try to convince him to stay, you would always cup his face gently the next time you saw him, tracing your fingers over his scars and tattoos, showing him a type of tenderness that he had never experienced in his entire life before you.

His throat felt tight as the slow kiss began to shift into a far more needy one, his teeth nearly clashing with yours as he leaned in closer, stepping from around the kitchen counter to lead you down the narrow halls toward your room. And yeah, he had to admit that it was harder to pretend that he didn’t know all of the little nooks and crannies of your home when he kept his lips pressed to yours, not even bothering to look where he was walking as he brought you back to your room.

“Ran,” you gasped against his lips, “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Ran pressed his lips to the underside of your jaw, trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck, making your words melt into soft moans next to his ear as his teeth grazed your skin and his lips massaged bruises on your neck. Ran let out a groan into your skin as one of your hands slid behind his head, intertwining with his hair, nails scratching his scalp as he laid you back on your bed.

And it was crazy, really--your bed creaked underneath the two of you, the mattress dipped, and he knew his bed back at his own apartment was objectively exponentially more comfortable than yours but he had never felt more at home, never slept better than when he was laid up with you in yours.

He dragged his lips back up your skin to your lips, arms braced on either side of your head, body heavy on top of yours. Your legs tightened around his waist and Ran bit back another groan as he rolled his hips against yours, feeling you whimper against his lips.

He carried his weight on one arm as he brought his other down between your bodies, and then between your thighs to slide your panties off. He smiled against your lips when he wasn’t met with the pretty silk panties he was used to.

“Thought you weren’t expecting me to show up?” he murmured against your lips and you giggled, eyes bright as you looked at him and the warm feeling in his chest grew and he couldn't even bring himself to push it away this time.

“I was still hopin’ you would,” you said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips that had him dizzy and reeling. His throat was tight as your lips left his, head falling back against the pillow and he couldn’t stop himself from chasing your lips, pressing them hard against yours with a type of desperation that he didn’t know he had in him.

As if you could sense the turmoil within him, which you probably could if he were being honest, you matched his intensity. Lips slipping against his messily, hands sliding across his shoulders, smoothing out over his skin, tracing his tattoos and making his body shudder, and Ran fumbled to undo his button and unzip his slacks, brows furrowing in frustration.

A curse slipped from his lips as he failed to undo the button again, but he paused as he felt your hands cup his cheeks, lifting his face to force him to look at you.

“Relax,” you said quietly, voice smooth and gentle and at once, all of his frustrations seemed to fade away, “There’s no rush, we’ve got all the time in the world, Ran.”

Ran’s breath was shaky as your hands drifted down his body, undoing the buttons with ease and he let out a moan as your fingers slid up and down his cock, hips bucking into your hand as you freed him from his pants.

There were a million words on his lips—telling you that you didn’t have all the time in the world, that there were so many risks, so many dangers, that he was sorry for dragging you into this life and that he was sorry for not being a good enough man to let you go.

But nothing left his lips—he did not voice his fears, he did not apologize, instead he kissed you more intensely, holding the side of your face hard, hoping to convey all that he couldn't speak aloud through his actions.

Your fingers wrapped around his cock gently, languid strokes that had him gasping against your lips, eyes fluttering shut.

He bit down on your bottom lip, tugging it, and his eyes slid back open, meeting yours, questioning.

You gave him a small smile, and it was all of the answer he needed. He reached down with one hand, a large hand wrapping around your thigh and lifting it, pressing it up against your chest and hooking your leg around his shoulder and then repeating the process with your other leg.

His jaw clenched as the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, slipping against the slick and sliding between your folds. He bit back a low groan as you gasped but couldn’t hold back the moan that fell from his lips as he began to push his cock into you at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your legs were trembling on either side of his head, chest heaving and your nails were digging into his bicep as you tried to control yourself but the fluttering of your walls gave you away. Heavy pants escaped your lips as he bottomed out into you—walls contracting and squeezing him so good that it nearly had him whimpering.

And he watched as you braced yourself for the hard, heavy thrusts you were used to—the ones that would knock your breath out of your lungs and have you dumb and drooling into the mattress by the time he was done with you; that would have him out of breath and sweating, thighs tense and shaking as he emptied his load into you for the third or fourth time of the night.

But this time was different—slow, deep strokes that had your jaw slack and eyes half-rolled back. He could feel every inch of your walls as your cunt tightened and fluttered around his cock. Each roll of his hips had your thighs twitching and trembling and your toes curling as Ran let out shaky breath while he turned his head to the side, pressing his lips against your ankle as he continued the steady pace.

Each drag of his cock against your walls had his arms tensing and flexing on either side of your head, shaky groans that he couldn’t quite hold back spilling from his lips as your cunt clung to him like a lifeline—wrapped around his cock so tight that each slow roll of his hips had his eyes knocking back.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped into your skin as he buried his face into your neck again, “Feel so good.”

And you were letting out barely intelligible babbles, begging him to fuck you faster, harder, but Ran couldn’t bring himself to do it—the new pace unlocking something primal within him, a warm unfamiliar feeling that had heat pooling in his lower stomach and spreading across his body like a wildfire.

He forced himself to pull his face from the crook of your neck, pressing his lips against yours again, and he inhaled sharply through his nose as your babbles for more shifted into high pitched whines and desperate moans.

His lips brushed yours, breath mingling and creating a dizzying sensation that had him light headed. His eyes traced your face, hips stilling against yours as he watched your eyes water, glassy and unfocused and barely trained on his face, lips wet and swollen.

You were beautiful—you were always beautiful but right now….

He brought one hand to cup the side of your face, watching as you instinctually leaned into his touch, eyes lidded and glossy, filled with a sort of intense love and trust that had never been directed toward him his entire life. You looked at him as if he weren’t Haitani Ran, a wanted criminal, a gang executive, a murderer and a liar and a coward.

Or maybe you looked at him like that because he was Haitani Ran.

His throat felt tight, his heart felt heavy.

“I love you,” he breathed out before he could stop himself and he watched as your eyes widened, if only slightly, but he didn’t give you the chance to let his words register, instead leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your lips as he began to rock his hips into you again.

He fucked himself deep, deep into you—as if he couldn’t get close enough—his slow place gradually shifting into a faster one. Your walls clung to his cock and he was letting out low groans into your mouth as he felt your cunt spasm around him.

You were close, he could feel it in the way your hips were rolling up to meet his, he could hear it in the way your moans were becoming breathy as your voice shook, in how your arms were wrapping tight around his shoulders, trying to hold him as close as possible.

“‘m gunna cum,” you sobbed against his lips, “‘m gonna cum, Ran, I-“

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence, one particularly sharp thrust of his hips had your jaw going slack and your eyes rolling back, body spasming beneath his. Ran let out a low groan, lips pressed to your jaw as the feeling of your walls contracting tight around him pushed him right over the edge—mind hot and fuzzy as he spilled his cum deep inside of you.

He panted against your skin, body heavy on top of yours as you went limp beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to recover from your high.

Ran let out a hiss as he let his cock slip out of you, rolling onto his back to pull you onto his chest. Your eyes were tired and droopy as you looked up at him and Ran let out a soft hum, bringing one hand up to cup your head as the other traced patterns on your skin.

“Ran…” your voice was soft, shaky, you still sounded half out of it but there was a question in your eyes that made him anxious.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured.

“Will you be here when I wake up this time?” your eyes were sad, your lips wobbled, and Ran’s heart was in his throat as he looked down at you.

The words spilled from his lips before he could consider what they meant, “I will.”

And he supposed the relief and adoration on your face was worth the fact that he would have to confront questions that even just the thought of made him sick and fearful. But you rested your head back down against his chest, eyes fluttering shut and breath evening out and Ran knew he wouldn’t have the heart to go back on his word—not with you.

He toyed with your hair as you slept soundly on his chest, his own eyes slowly drooping shut as exhaustion took hold. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of your head once before letting his head drop back against the pillow, and as he slowly allowed himself to drift off to sleep to the sound of gunshots and shouting in the distance, he couldn’t help but wonder how many blanks were left.

—-

taglist: @thomaphoria @dear-xiao @manjiroscum @arozaur @kisakiapologist @scandescent @crackheadwithtoes @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @adeptiixiao @zuuki @hollypastl @imkumichan @meena-in-a-nutshell @obsessiontoanime @prettyiolanthe @r-xochitl @whydohumansss @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @blvebcrry @lundabean @savagemickey03 @keijisprettygirl @kuroolv @shizunxie @kazuwhora @tokyometronetwork

1K notes · View notes