Liansh3ng - L

hanma x f!reader, baji x f!reader, izana x f!reader, ran x f!reader

summary - after years of careful construction, a tragedy causes the walls you've built up from professional and personal crumble.

a/n - police procedural au, judge! reader, please check out @keizos's tokyo blue collar au, murder, mystery, intruigue, swearing, smut, banter, im guessing at how these things work purely for plot reasons.

setup - on the eve of the trial of the son of the most dangerous organized crime syndicate in tokyo, tragedy strikes. friends become enemies, and old enemies become friends again, as you unite under the purpose of making the world a better, safer place.

unsure of how often this will update but envisioning at least three parts and a Fair Amount of Smut lmao | join the taglist

“Mr. Haitani,” You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “Your client has five minutes to show up or the Prosecution gets a default judgement.” Those well versed in Haitani Ran’s emotions could read the stress rolling off of his shoulders in waves, but a casual onlooker would only catch the sly smirk.

“She’s on her way, your honor. You’ve got my word.” He checks his smartphone. “Just a little traffic jam.”

“What a shame,” Hanma Shuji, opposing council says, leaning back in his chair and glancing at the beautiful young woman standing next to him, “That this is so unimportant to Mrs. Hyland that she’s late for her own court-”

“Objection,” Ran looks to you, “Inflammatory, your honor.”

“Sustained.” You glance down at the case in front of you and then back at the dark haired man. “Thin Ice, Mr. Hanma.” He flashes his, frankly enormous palms, and shoots you a smile that you assumed made younger, less experienced women weak in the knees. It only serves to build your mounting annoyance. You check the clock hanging on the wall. Three more minutes. Hanma Shuuji’s client is a young woman, with long blonde hair, carefully styled in a blowout. Her lips are silicone puffed, her cheeks brightened with some kind of sparkle. You can’t help but remember the rumors, the things they told you about Hanma when you first transferred here a year and a half ago.

“That man,” Hinata, your stenographer at that particular trial, had hissed to you, “That man has fucked almost every single one of his clients.”

“No,” you’d breathed, scandalized. “No he has not.” She’d nodded vigorously.

“It’s true.”

Now that has you wondering while you tap your worn heel on the hardwood underneath your bench. Wondering what he does for these women, all different shapes, and sizes and ages, wondering why he does it, and what they see in him?

Your girlfriends always asked you to set them up with lawyers, and every time you refused. Lawyers were rarely sexy, you’d argue, and the ones who were attractive were so smarmy you’d get a layer of grease on your hands just from touching one of them. In court, Lawyers jousted in front of you, they fought dirty and hard, and while argument and banter seemed like foreplay in movies, in real life it rarely plays out that way. You’ve been watching Hanma now, much to the chagrin of Haitani and the other regular cast of high powered lawyers, who were bored of watching you watch their opposing counsel.

You started to notice things, notice the way he’d pat a clients shoulder at a tough moment, the calculated flash of his eyes before he’d go in for the kill, the way he’d open the door for other people even if his arms were full, and then deny doing it to anyone who thanked him. You sigh. One more minute. It was late on a Thursday, and there was paperwork waiting for you in your chambers, and you had an appointment with Detective Baji before you could be free today.

“Mr. Haitani,” You raise your eyebrows. “Sessions of court are not suggested attendance. Your client has been subpoenaed. She needs to be here.”

“She will.” Haitani promises. “Absolutely she will. Three more minutes, I just need-”

“Hasn’t my client suffered enough?” Hanma drawls, sitting down at the table next to her. “I think a default ruling would be-”

“A misscarriage of justice?” Ran quips, “I concur, Hanma-”

“Enough.” You cut through their bickering just as the door at the back of the courtroom opens and an older woman, with tanned skin and crystal blue eyes sweeps into the courtroom, followed by a full entourage. Ran’s shoulders droop with relief as he sweeps across the courtroom, taking the older woman’s arm and leading her to a seat at the table.

She can’t be more than fifty, you decide, but she’s had extremely careful work done. You take your gavel and bang it softly, bringing the court to attention.

“All rise,” the bailiff says, “For the honorable Judge L/n.” The whole court stands, Ran has to gently tap his client on the upper arm to get her to obey. Each of them begin their arguments, the crux of the case is that Hanma’s client is suing for wages withheld, while Ran’s client is claiming that the contract with the plaintiff was unfulfilled, that Hanma’s client didn’t show up to work, was often late, etc.

“Counsel,” You raise your eyebrows, “Approach please.”

“A please,” Ran says, grinning, “An approach please, that’s the warmest you’ve been to any one of us.”

“And now it’ll never happen again,” you snip, “Haitani, Hanma.” you start and he nods to you.

“Yes, your honor?”

“This case is bullshit. I came in today, expecting to do my job, and you’ve served me a steaming plate of bullshit.”

“Your honor,” Hanma protests, “This young woman is-”

“Suing her stepmother.” You slide the papers across the desk. “Over six hundred dollars.” Neither of them has the grace to look sheepish.

“I mean can we really place a numerical value on something like the relationship between-” Ran starts and Hanma speaks even more quickly,

“And frankly that makes it even worse that she would short her stepdaughter over something so petty, as six hundred dollar.” You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“You know I have a lot of cases,” you say sternly, “Important cases, I have the Giordano Case on Monday. That’s your firm, isn’t it?” You look at Ran, who nods.

“Shoulda seen the look on Mikey’s face when he saw you were assigned to the case.” Ran chuckles. “He was-”

“Give me one good reason not to toss this case in the garbage, Hanma.” You snap and he doesn’t even have to think about it.

“Because regardless of the reason why, if this young woman worked and was not paid, she deserves to be compensated. And I know that. And you know that. Which is why you won’t throw it out.” You sigh.

“Mr. Haitani,” you turn to the other lawyer, “You will get me timesheets showing documented proof that this young woman was not at the places she was paid to be at or I’m going to rule in favor of the plaintiff and grant her a percentage,” you watch the grin slide across Hanma’s face, “A percentage, Hanma, of the emotional damage claim she filed. Understood?”

“Yes, your honor.” Ran responds seriously. You give him a tight little smile, for all his bluster, Haitani Ran always delivered on time. You stand and bang your gavel. “Court dismissed for the day. We will reconvene on tomorrow at 9AM,” you glance at the older woman. “That’s 9AM sharp. I don’t tolerate lateness in my courtroom.”

“Noted.” She says, brow furrowing, pressing her lips together. You sigh again and sit, there’s a flurry of activity as you exit and go back to your chambers. You’re halfway through a written statement when there’s a knock on the door, a silhouette in the glass panel.

“Ah, come in!” You call, and Hanma Shuuji scoots around the door and closes it behind him. “Mr. Hanma, I’m really not in the mood to hear that I was too hard on you.” He shakes his head, sitting down on one of the plush chairs in front of your desk, eyes flicking to your shapeless black robes that are hung carefully on a coat hook in the corner.

“That’s not what this is about.” He looks a little uncomfortable for a moment, more uncomfortable than he usually looks just trying to fit his long limbs in a normal sized chair. “Your honor,” you hold his gaze, “It’s about the Giordano Trial.”

“What about it?” You glance at the clock. “Detective Baji will be here soon and at this rate I won’t be done with paperwork until 8PM.”

“It’s about you working until 8PM. Or later.” He says quickly, his dark brows knitting together. “It’s not safe, your honor.” He smirks. “Even if you’re meeting with Detective Baji at,” he checks his phone and a mocking grin plays on his lips, “Ooooh, at 6PM. Tell me,” he leans forward, “Is your problem with me that I’m not poor enough, like if I showed up in the same shoes I’d been wearing for three years would that melt your icy heart?”

“First of all, Hanma,” you snap, “There’s nothing happening with Detective Baji, he has a case he wants me to consult on, I understand never getting laid is probably difficult for you and so you have to supplement with your pathetic imagination,” that makes him snort, “But I’ll thank you to keep your suggestions out of my chambers. Second of all, don’t tell me you’re here offering up your protective services from the Italian Mafia.” His grin only widens.

“Fuck no. Just a warning, and a suggestion to get a protective escort,” he yawns, “Not sure if Detective Baji was gonna stay over after.” He sings the police officers name.

“Thin ice.” You repeat, lips pressed together. He nods, considering.

“Also,” he leans back in the chair. “You’re hurting Haitani’s feelings by not fucking him.” Your eyebrows shoot to your scalp.

“Get out of my office.”

“Noted,” Hanma crows, scrambling to his feet, grabbing his coat and dashting towards the door, throwing it open and nearly slamming right into Detective Baji. The two men stand awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Be uh,” there’s something odd and genuine in Hanma’s eyes for just a second. “Take care.” You sigh deeply and rest your head on the desk as Baji closes the door behind him.

“The hell did he want?” He says, scowling.

“To be an asshole.” You mumble. “Him and Haitani wasted thousands of tax dollars on the most bullshit civil case I’ve ever seen today.” Baji sits down across from you, and you lift your head.

“Haitani can eat my entire asshole.” He grumbles, tying his long dark hair into a pony tail. That pulls a giggle from your lips. “So can Hanma, as far as I’m concerned.”

“So what’s the case you need a consult on, you know I’ll have to recuse myself if it comes to court.” He nods.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” He says gruffly. “So I didn’t tell you why I needed to see you.” he takes a folder out from under his arms. “Got this mailed to the precinct today. ‘Fuyu is running shit on it but,” he opens it and you take a deep breath. It’s a photo of you, making breakfast in your apartment, leaving, getting in your car, but in every shot you’ve been scribbled out with red marker.

“What, is this Giordano?” You say, narrowing your eyes.

“Not gonna freak out on me?” Baji says, genuine surprise in his voice.

“You’re usually a better judge of character than that.” You give him a weary smile. “Not my first rodeo, Detective.” He nods, balking the smallest degree at the use of his official title.

“I am remanding you to protective custody.” He says, and when you open your mouth to protest, “And don’t say shit to me about it, your honor.” You close your mouth.

“Fine. Is there a safehouse open, Detective? One without bed bugs?” He winces.

“There uh, there actually isn’t.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Tell accounts payable I’ll spring for a hotel.” Baji looks a little uncomfortable.

“There’s an option. One you’re not gonna like.” You narrow your eyes. “Giordano isn’t my case. You could crash at my apartment.”

“Do you have a guest room?” You ask delicately and he snorts.

“No. I have a couch.”

“And me, I would be on the couch?” He smirks at you.

“Why dontcha fuck around and find out, huh? Get your shit. You can finish your paperwork at my place.” You nod. “Or you could, y’know, go to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Don’t act like you’re concerned about me.” You mumble, gathering your papers and slipping the folders into your briefcase. “Can one of your uniformed officers swing by my place and pack a suitcase for me?” Baji shakes his head.

“Can’t risk one of them being followed to my place. I’ll take ya tomorrow morning before work. Doesn’t matter if they follow you to court.” You glance at the pictures of you alone in your home before Baji scoots them back into a folder. He catches something, just a quick cloud of emotion passing your face. “Don’t worry about a thing, your honor.” A cocky grin spreads across his face. “You know my team has never lost an officer.” You look at him sharply.

“You’re in the major crimes unit.”

“I lead the major crimes unit. And no one who reports to me has ever come back in a body bag,” Baji brags, “I take care of my people.” You reach for your coat, slipping your arms into it.

“That is actually comforting. Thank you.” He smirks.

“C’mon, your honor.” He offers you his arm but you shake your head, leading him out of your chambers. Your heels click on the linoleum.

“When we are not in this building,” you press the elevator button, “To avoid awkwardness, I give you permission to call me by my last name, rather than my title.” He chuckles.

“Sounds good.” He looks over at you. “And for the record, once we leave this building, you’re a civilian, and you will do as I say.” You raise your eyebrows and take your glasses off, folding them and placing them in your pocket.

“Is that so?” You say smoothly, and he scowls.

“It absolutely fucking is!” He snaps, just in time for the two of you to round the corner on the three people you’d least want to see in this moment, Haitani Ran, Hanma Shuuji and Kisaki Tetta.

“Really?” Ran says immediately, upon seeing you with Baji. “Really? Is it because I’m rich, do you hate that I’m-”

“Bro I already asked her!” Hanma says excitedly, “I already asked her that, we’re on the same fucking wavelength.” You don’t miss a beat.

“Deeply unprofessional Mr. Haitani as always, and Mr. Hanma you were the one who suggested I needed to go into protective custody,” Baji balks a little at that but it’s barely noticeable. “Mr. Kisaki.” You nod and the blonde regards you coldly.

“Your honor.” You nod to the group and you and Baji turn to leave but Hanma jogs and catches up with you.

“So I was right,” He says, long strides easily matching yours and Baji’s. “Did they threaten Kakucho too?” Baji’s eyes narrow and he raises his voice.

“You know I’m not going to comment on an ongoing investigation.” He roars. “Get the fuck out of my sight, it’s after 5PM so legally I don’t have to look at you anymore.” Hanma cackles, but reaches out and touches your arm, giving it a little squeeze before darting away. Baji reacts like he’d hit you, whirling on the lawyer, and you watch him remember his rank and status in real time as he holds himself back from socking Hanma in the jaw.

“Relax, Detective.” You say softly, and it seems to work, Baji’s dark eyes melt a little at your tone. “They’re just upset because neither of them did well in court today.” You pause, “Which is odd, usually frankly they each have their moments of competence but this was not one of them.”

“Whatever.” Baji grumbles, leading you to the metal detectors and the big open doors. The grand entrance room of city hall has vaulting ceilings, conversations carry quickly. You watch as Baji takes his gun and holster, his badge and cell phone, and places it in a little bowl. You put your wallet and cell phone in one and step through the metal detector after him. He holds the door for you and you both step out into the cool december air. You start down the white steps in front of City Hall, but Detective Baji clears his throat. “Protective custody means I go first.” You swallow.

“Right. Sorry.” He shrugs, one hand curling around your upper arm and guiding you down the steps and to the parking garage.

“The hell do you think that’s about,” Hanma says, eyes narrowed as the two of you disappear around the corner.

“You don’t actually think you’ve got a shot there?” Ran responds, doubling his scarf and tucking it into his jacket. “If she won’t fuck me, I’ve got some bad news for you.” Hanma shakes his head.

“Nah I don’t wanna fuck her.” He says quietly, and Ran snorts.

“Yeah, alright.”

The train ride to Baji’s apartment is pleasant and quiet. His building isn’t quite as nice as yours, but he punches in a security code and undoes several locks before opening the door to his place. It’s a stereotypical bachelor pad, sports posters, a well worn couch, and a kitchen that looks like it’s never been used.

“Want a beer?” he offers and you shrug.

“Do you have wine?” You ask, slipping out of your coat.

“I have whiskey.” He confirms and you nod.

“Yes, that.” He takes a beer out of the fridge and opens it, tugging his hair out of it’s ponytail. You can see the streaks of grey in it now. “Tell me,” he reaches up to a cabinet and takes a bottle of Lagavulin down. “Tell me about how Haitani and Hanma ate ass in court today, that’ll make me feel better.” You laugh lightly.

“Ah, they brought a wage theft civil case in front of me,” you explain, “And thought I wouldn’t notice it was a stepdaughter suing her stepmother because she filed with her biological mother’s last name.” Baji cackles.

“I’m sure they shit their pants when they heard they got you in court.”

“I hate bullshit cases.” You shake your head, Baji hands you the glass of whiskey. “I hate bullshit, period.”

“You know,” he watches you move some laundry over so that you can sit on the couch. “You’d have made a kickass D.A.”

“You’d have hated me.” You say, with a little shrug. “I’m a hardass on my cops when I’m prosecuting. Sneeze on evidence wrong and I’ll throw it out.”

“But that’s what makes you good at this,” Baji protests, and there’s a little spark of warmth in your chest. “I want you to hold the police on my force to the highest possible fucking standard, forget sneezing on it, if any of my cops mishandle evidence, if they breathe on it wrong I want that shit gone.”

“And that,” you respond, more warmth in your voice then Baji’s heard, maybe ever, “Is what makes you so good at your job, Detective.” Baji sighs, leaning against the counter.

“Detective, huh? When we’re out at the bar you call me Baji.”

“You’re on duty.” You take another sip of whiskey. He nods, putting his beer on the

counter. A little smirk crosses his face. “What?”

“Hanma didn’t seem to like that I was the one takin’ care of ya.”

“None of them actually want anything to do with me.” You take another sip of your whiskey and let it burn it’s way down your throat. “Men like that lust after powerful women, they have this fantasy of submission, right?” Baji nods, coming to join you on the couch. “But the truth is, once they realize that being with an ambitious woman means long hours, it means tough days, it means someone who won’t take their bullshit, they’re in the wind. They’ll find themselves some, usually much younger woman, who is satisfied with being taken care of.”

“Sounds lonely.” He says, leaning back against the arm of the couch. You shrug.

“I’m the most reliable person I know. I take care of me. I’ll never need a man like Haitani, or Hanma, or Sano to take care of me.”

“Sano’s not so bad,” Baji protests and you roll your eyes.

“How could I forget that you all get together and play poker every weekend?” He shakes his head.

“Yeah well, Hanma, Haitani and Tetta are absolutely not invited to that. Sano and I went to high school together.” You nod. He looks at you sharply. “You like Kakucho.” You shrug.

“I work with Kakucho.”

“Huh.” Baji takes another sip of his beer. Something occurs to him, “So if what those men need, to be satisfied, is someone young and low maintenance,” you laugh.

“If you like your credit card not maxxed out, they’re high maintenance.”

“You and I both know that all of them make more than we’re gonna take home in our entire careers.” He shrugs. “Or at least me, given that I can’t go corporate.”

“I don’t want to practice law again.” You counter, “Or run for office. So I think their income will continue to far exceed ours,” you give him a warm smile, “But with job we get our moral high horse. It’s almost as sweet as a mansion with a pool.” He returns your smile.

“You didn’t let me ask my question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What,” He puts his beer on the table, “What satisfies you?” You give him a little smile.

“Nothing.” You whisper.

“Really?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I’m a big empty black hole of want.” You finish your drink, and hold the cool glass in your palms. “I do something, and I want to do better, I get something, and I want more. Nothing is good enough. Ever. Nothing satisfies me, I’m,” you look for the right word. “Hungry. I suppose.” There’s a pause.

“You suppose.” He muses. “I think I might be the same.” He looks away from you. “Hungry.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You place your glass on his coffee table. He nods.

“It makes me better at my job, there’ll always be another asshole who deserves to suffer for what he’s done, and I’m the man to make sure he unequivocally suffers.”

“Some would say prison is about rehabilitation.” You quip and he shrugs.

“I used to believe in that. Then I stared down a guy who’d murdered his five year old daughter after she walked in on him fuckin’ the nanny.” He shakes his head. “No remorse.” You shiver. “Sorry,” he says gruffly. “Not very good conversation, I guess.” You don’t absolve him.

“If it helps the um,” you gesture to him, “The hunger makes you better at this.” He nods. “I’ll tell you something, if you promise to keep it a secret.” He nods. “I’m a little afraid. For this trial. The Giordano Crime syndicate are old money, and well embedded into the city’s elite. I’ve gotten threats before but they’ve been small time.” Baji considers.

“What if I told ya to c’mere?” He grunts, lifting an arm. To his shock and subsequent delight you scoot underneath him, he nestles you against his chest. “You know you’re gonna be fair.” He says, and you nod. “And you know that if anyone comes through that door I’m gonna put a bullet in their chest.” You swallow. His hand comes to rest on your waist.

“Thank you.” You don’t move away from him, he smells like cologne and cigarettes.

“That suit can’t be comfortable.” He says quietly.

“It’s not.” You mumble, and he moves a little, pushing your jacket off your shoulders. “Baji.” You caution.

“What?” He asks, and you feel his lips at your temple.

“I don’t sleep with cops, lawyers, or politicians.” You respond, looking up at him. He doesn’t seem phased.

“Make an exception.” You feel his lips on your cheek, on your jaw, “Lemme make you feel good, for a bit. Y’work so hard.” You feel his hands, cool on the plush of your thighs, slowly parting them, with no resistance from you.

“Baji,” you say again, but this time you sound less sure,

“What if tonight,” he puts one hand on your clavicle, laying you down on the pile of laundry on the couch, “You just pretended I wasn’t a cop,”

“I-” You go to protest but he unzips the back of your skirt so smoothly, and starts easing it down.

“Why dontcha just,” his voice is matches on tinder, deep gravel that goes right to your sex, “Pretend I’m some dirty,” you feel him slip your panties to the side, “Mechanic,” you laugh a little but it turns into a moan when he licks up your slit. “I’m just gonna make sure everything down here is in workin’ order,” he growls, and you feel his hand anchor around your thighs, “Been awhile since anyone touched ya like this, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your back arching off the couch with even the most careful light touches.

“Hmmmm,” he hums, kissing your clit softly, smirking at your desperate moan, “That seems just fine,” he slips a finger inside you, “What about this, huh, this workin’ ok?” He curls it inside you and you sit straight up gasping, hands flying to his wrist.

“Baji, I shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t what,” He lifts his head to look at you, “Shouldn’t let yourself experience pleasure, the hell is-”

“I shouldn’t sleep with a cop, even, even a good cop, even a police officer who is sexy, and smart, and kind.” You protest. “Even a police officer who is funny, and sexy, and really really good at his job.” He pauses, withdrawing his hands from you and flashing his palms.

“You said sexy twice y’know.” He manages a smirk.

“Oh dear.” You huff a little sigh. “Did I?”

“You did.” He stands, “Lemme getcha some clothes to sleep in huh?” You nod, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry.” You call over your shoulder and he stops, turning around to look at you. He stares at you intently for a moment, before leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

“Whatcha scared of?” He asks, and you swallow nervously. “C’mon sweetheart,” he says and then holds up a hand, “Yeah I know I’m the only guy who can call you that without gettin’ eviscerated.” You consider lying, and decide against it.

“You have instant credibility hanging between your legs.” You pull your panties back up. “I didn’t get so lucky. I can’t be the Judge who fucks cops sometimes, or the judge who fucks lawyers, and keep my reputation and career.”

“And the politicians?” Baji asks with a crooked grin.

“That’s more of a matter of personal preference.”

“Jesus,” he turns his back on you and walks to his bedroom, “You could stop bein’ funny and smart for a little bit and maybe I’d stop tryin’ to melt that cold cold heart of yours.” If Baji had been watching your face, instead of changing out of his suit he’d have seen the way those words stung on your face, taking you by surprise enough so that you can’t keep it from your face. By the time he steps back out the pain is gone from your face.

“For you,” he hands you a pair of sweatpants and a soft T-shirt. “For the record.” He picks up your empty glass and takes it to the sink. “I don’t mind bein’ friends with badass women. So I’m not gonna stop havin’ lunch with you, and having you over for the games and shit,” he gestures to the nicest thing in his apartment, a flatscreen TV. “Just because you’re not gonna fuck me.”

“That’s actually um,” you consider, “That’s very kind of you.”

“You will be on the couch though.” he says, leaving again and returning with a pillow and comforter. “Bathrooms there, and I’m gonna order a pizza and watch the hockey game.”

“Sounds good to me.” You change and the two of you settle in for the evening, you hug a pillow to your chest as he swears violently at his ever losing hometown heroes. You’re starting to drift off to sleep, head perilously close to Baji’s shoulder when his beeper explodes in the kitchen. He leaps up with athleticism you didn’t know he possessed, diving for his cell phone. “Baji.” He answers, then looks sharply at you. “Got it. She’s secure, but we’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“What’s happening?”

“Shoes,” he orders, and you scramble, grabbing your phone and wallet as you shove your feet into a pair of Baji’s slippers, comically large on your feet. You wrap your scarf around your neck and he draws his weapon.

“Detective-”

“I’ll answer once we’re in my car.” He says. He takes you down the few flights of stairs to the parking garage under his building, and searches the car, an old brown sedan, before having you get in the passenger seat and turning the key in the ignition. “Kakucho’s been shot, it’s bad, he’s at Mercy Memorial.”

“Fuck.” The tires squeal and he pulls out of the parking garage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. How bad is it?”

“Bad.” Baji says gruffly, flying through the icy night. It’s late enough so that there isn’t much traffic. “He was down at a bar with a few of his friends from school and someone just opened fire, a couple of them were hurt, but they’re fine. It’s Kakucho, he was the target, and he’s in surgery.”

“O-okay, was it Giordano?”

“We don’t know yet.” Baji grits his teeth. “But I’d say likely, yeah, or someone they hired. This’ll push the case back, maybe a long time. We don’t even have another D.A. right now because Mcellan is on maternity leave.” You groan loudly.

“So what, what are they-”

“Let’s focus on the issue at hand, and get briefed when I get there.” He looks over at you. “I want you within two feet of me at all times. Understood?” You nod. “I’m dead fucking serious, right now, I am an officer of the law and you are a civilian.”

“Yes, detective.” You say quickly and he nods, pulling up and parking illegally before leaping over the hood and pulling you out of the front seat.

“For the record,” Baji’s hair flys behind him, “If I had someone to leave you with, I would have left you with them.”

“I want to be here.” He leads you across the parking lot and into the ER. “Akkun,” He yells to an exhausted looking man with pink styled hair,

“It’s doctor,” the young man protests.

“It’s resident.” A woman with short silver hair cuts him off. “Detective, the others are in the waiting room, Kakucho is in surgery with Dr. Kurokawa.” She glances at you. “And you, miss? Can I help you?”

“Dr. Senju this is Judge L/n.” Baji scoots in front of you. “She’s in protective custody and needs to stay with me.” The woman sighs, and you can feel her eyes lingering on Baji for just a second too long.

“Akkun.” She says shortly. “Show them where to go.” The young resident nods and leads you up several flights of stairs into a waiting room. Everyone stands when the two of you burst in, there are cops there, you recognize Detective Ryugi, and the rest of them are lawyers. Mikey Sano, Haitani, Hanma, and Sanzu all turn to you, eyes wide. Baji turns to you, and points with his gun at a seat.

“Sit.” He orders. “And stay.” He goes over to the other Detective and you collapse in the plastic chair. Haitani, Hanma and Sanzu make a beeline for you while Mikey takes a call on his cell phone.

“Look at you,” Hanma says. “You know I didn’t actually think you were fucking the Detective, but damn good for-”

“I’m not.” You cut him off. “I’m in protective custody. He just lent me some clothes because all the safehouses have bedbugs.”

“Well we both know you’re saving your heart for me,” Ran winks at you, but even for him it’s a halfhearted deflection that you choose not to dignify with a snippy comeback.

“You good?” Hanma asks, shifting his weight nervously. You nod.

“What about all of you, were you there?” Your eyes widen at Mikey, who’s left arm is bandaged.

“He just got nicked.” Sanzu confirms. “He’s fine.”

“Are all of you alright?” You ask quietly.

“Yeah,” Hanma says, studying you. “Do you care if we’re okay?” He waits for you to banter back but your eyes widen.

“Hanma of course I do.” The double doors to the room open and a tall lean man, with violet eyes and white bleached hair tied back in a bun strides into the room. The surgeon's scrubs are bloody but his eyes are laser focused.

“Kakucho Hitto is stable for now in a medically induced coma.” There’s a silence and Izana’s eyes sweep across the room, settling on you. “Ah, oh, hi.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, a blush dusting his cheeks.

“It’s nice to see you Izana.” You say, wishing you hadn’t washed your makeup off.

“Izana?” Ran hisses to Sanzu, “Izana?”

“We went out a couple times.” You stand and push past the group of lawyers.

“Six times.” Dr. Kurokawa says quickly.

“Yes.” You chew your bottom lip. “That’s correct. It was 6. I forgot.” He nods to you.

“You’re not um,” he looks, as close to flustered as a man like Izana Kurokawa gets. “You’re not in need of medical attention?” Detective Baji swings in, to your rescue.

“We need to know a recovery time estimation and if you’ve retrieved any full or partial bullet fragments.” You sigh with relief as soon as Izana’s attention isn’t on you any more. You stare at the floor for a moment, calculating something.

“The state is almost certainly going to need a new prosecutor.” You say quietly, and feel three pairs of eyes on you. “There’s no one from Kakucho’s office who’s up for prosecuting Giordano, after this, people will quit over it.” You shake your head. “It’s a fucking shame.”

“Just get someone else?” Ran says. “How hard can it be to find a competent lawyer?”

“Why don’t you list all the reasons none of you work for the state?” Ran shudders.

“You’re correct, actually.” Hanma eyes you warily for a moment, but you stride over to Detective Ryuguji and start asking him questions, he overhears the word, next of kin. You hear a wail down the hallways and a beautiful woman pushes through the double doors, in pajamas and a robe. She pushes past you and slips between Detective Ryuguji and your body, throwing his arms around his neck, crying in an aching, raw way. You scoot awkwardly backwards and Hanma waves you over to the side, leaving the other lawyers.

“That’s his wife. Kakucho’s.” You massage your temples. “Late for ya?” Hanma asks, and you nod, checking the clock, it’s a bit after midnight. “Don’t push our 9AM,” he begs, and you laugh. “I had to talk to my client for ages to make sure she understood she had to be on time.”

“I would never.” You give him a little smile. Kakucho’s wife is despondent, and loud, accosting a nurse demanding to speak to Izana who has since disappeared into the operation room.

“You should do it.” He says quietly. “Stand in for the D.A. There are plenty of judges on the circuit, but you should represent the states case against Giordano.” You look at him sharply. “I’m serious.” You sigh.

“I haven’t practiced in years, Hanma.” The lanky man shrugs. “The state will figure it out.”

“I googled your record.” He leans down to speak even more quietly. “No wonder you don’t take shit from any of us.” A small smile plays on your face.

“Well, I was good.” He watches something sad manifest in your expression. “Emphasis on was.” Something beeps on the nurse's belt and Kakucho’s wife gasps as the nurse ignores her and whirls around back into the OR. A silence falls. Every person in the room has eyes on slowly swinging double doors, until they are still. Slowly each person drifts to a seat, Hanma and Ran settling on either side of you. You stare at your hands, refusing to look at either man. It’s half an hour of full silence, Baji holds your gaze every few minutes. Dr. Izana Kurokawa pushes his way through the doors a few minutes later, a grim expression on his face. He pulls Kakucho’s wife aside and says something very quietly to her. She breaks down, wailing, falling to her knees. Izana stays with her for a moment, but his eyes flick to you, and he waves you over.

“F/n.” He says quietly. “This is serious. How much do you trust each of these Detectives?” Your brow furrows.

“Baji and Ryuguji I would trust with my life, the rest of them about as far as I can throw them.” Izana nods.

“I know Mikey is opposing counsel for the state on Monday, provided the trial won’t be postponed.” You nod quickly. “If he pries, I will call you.” You nod slowly.

“Please.”

“The Giordanos,” Izana considers carefully, “They’ve ruled this city for a few generations. Ronald Giordano deserves to go to prison, in my opinon.”

“I can’t comment on that.”

“I know.” Izana says quickly. “So who’s gonna pick up the case?” You sigh.

“Unclear.” He reaches out and gives your arm a little squeeze. “Izana,” you whisper, “How much danger am I in, you know these men, you know Mikey, he’s their lawyer, he’s always been their lawyer.” Izana shifts his weight nervously.

“A lot of danger.” He pauses, “You look beautiful, even dressed like this.” You shake your head at him. “You’d be safe in my penthouse.” He takes your hand and palms you an electronic key. “Please meet me there, with the detectives. I’ll tell you all what I know.” You look at him sharply. “And no pressure,” he practically hums, “But obviously I’d prefer you stay.”

“We’ll see.” You hedge.

“We will.” He nods. “Yes we will.”

friends like this | HAITANI RAN

SUMMARY. “would you believe me if i said that i wanted to be your first?”

WORDCOUNT. 3.7k (sincerely very sorry)

CONTENT WARNING. explicit content + author’s subtle and terrible humor, unprotected sex, mentions of oc ex-boyfriend, mentions of ran being obsessed with you, mention of death threat, body worship, praising, cunnilingus, spitting, implied cheating (ran to his ex), exhibitionism, slight voyeurism.

It’s an everyday occurence to hear your friends speak so casually about their latest fuck and so on and so forth— however, you still can’t get a grip of the crude language they use. Especially when they’re aware of your presence.

“Dude, you should’ve seen that hot chick!” Sanzu exclaims like a hormonal teenager as he motions with his cupped hands what seems like the chick’s ass— almost as big as his own face, “Definitely your type,” he adds, pointing at Ran who reacts with a snort.

“Nah, you’re kidding,” you hear the latter reply, “Haven’t seen one as big as my ex’s.”

You quietly sip on your tea, trying to pay no mind to the group of men surrounding you and speaking so lively just like a bunch of high school kids getting excited over any living being of the opposite sex.

What makes the current situation worse is Sanzu placing his 38 special ammo set all over the glass table with his unloaded revolver resting proudly on his lap, bringing up such a topic in the meantime— like he hasn’t just killed another executive from their rival gang.

“I thought you were over her?” Rindou asks from the other side of the huge room. You can tell from the way he’s crouched, holding a few banknotes and not even sparing anyone a glance that he’s in charge of counting the money today, due to Kokonoi’s temporary absence. It’s just the four of you meeting at the headquarters.

“Well, duh. I just miss her ass, that’s all,” Ran answers to his brother matter-of-factly, “Oh, and her tits too,” he adds, placing his feet on the desk.

You scrunch your nose up, watching as a dreamy sigh escapes Ran’s lips, soon curving into a weird smirk that has you immediately shake your head, not even bothering to wonder what he’s thinking of.

Instead, feeling the conversation degenerate even more, you glare at the men, yet you receive nothing but a snort from Sanzu, clearly entertained by your subtle reactions.

Thankfully though, an unexpected savior joins into the conversation earlier than you’ve expected and you find yourself letting out a sigh of relief as you relax on your seat, a familiar figure approaching the four of you.

“I heard y’all talking about tits and ass.”

Actually, you don’t even have a good feeling about this anymore.

It’s Kokonoi. Another executive of the Bonten gang. Besides being known for his business skills, he’s majorly known amongst the gang members as the insane one who keeps a notebook full of the names and phone numbers of people he has fucked.

You’ve promised yourself to never bring up his “fuckbook”— just like he likes to call it, whenever he’s around, ever again.

You would not like to experience him babbling about it once more.

“Yup, we were talking about Ran’s ex just now,” Rindou explains briefly as he gets up from his seat, to which Koko nods accompanied with an attentive expression.

The ravenette’s gaze lands on you and his smile gets bigger. He wraps an arm around you as he takes the empty seat on the couch beside you, “Talking about tits and ass in front of a lady seems a bit inappropriate,” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes.

“It’s alright. I pretend I do not hear. I don’t exist right now. I’m just a hologram.”

“Actually, I’ve always wanted to ask you something,” everyone’s gaze shifts to Sanzu, “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Talk about inappropriate,” Ran snickers; yet from the way his eyes never leave your figure, something’s telling you that he’s actually curious to know your answer.

“You think someone like her is a virgin?” Koko almost bursts out laughing and you don’t even hesitate to elbow him, earning a groan instead of the laughter his lips were trying to suppress just now.

“You know what,” you begin, “Go back on talking about your hot chicks or whatever,” you shake your head as you hold your cup of tea once again, as if from a different shift of your position, they would let this matter go.

But you know them too well, unfortunately. And they aren’t ones to give up. You have a gut feeling that this conversation will soon lead to an even worse situation.

Coincidentally, your gaze lands on Ran, whose eyes have been on your figure this whole time and you’re left beyond breathless for unknown reasons.

There’s something that you know Ran is hiding behind those sparkling eyes of his, that you only got to see when he told you about his make out session with his first ever girlfriend.

However, he has never really given those kinds of sparkling eyes to you and, heaven only knows that you might be so wrong for assuming something so nonsensical, especially when it’s Ran we’re talking about.

Your long time friend and now fellow executive partner in Bonten.

Besides, you have never opened up to any of them about your sex life— heck, you’re not as bold as they can be, you would have buried yourself in an instant if you had to tell them about your first time too.

The silence has reigned on the five of you ever since your attempt of changing the topic and to say that you’re beyond embarrassed now would be an understatement.

But fortunately, the savior you once thought was a lost case, is back on his track.

“Good weather today, by the way,” Koko observes.

A loud lightning strikes from outside.

It’s raining hard.

“Need a ride home?” you hear Ran’s voice and you turn around. As expected, he’s talking to you.

You bite your lip, glancing at the enormous window on your left.

You mentally facepalm yourself for not checking the weather forecast and bring an umbrella— because now you know you’ve got to deal with any possible worse case scenario by accepting Ran’s offer.

“Yeah, thank you.”

He gets up from the couch, hands on his pockets and his gaze lands upon your figure.

That look.

You’re doomed.

Has he ever been this fucking hot?

---

“Y’know, to be honest, I’m still curious,” the offered ride is starting to get longer and with Ran’s unnecessary statement you see no escape from your unfortunate fate.

You glance at your friend— his gaze is still focused on the road whilst one hand is holding the steering wheel. You gulp as you let your eyes trail down his side profile, his jawline sharp and as visible as his Adam's apple.

“About what?” you mumble, leaning your head against the car window.

“Your answer to Sanzu's question,” he replies, “If you’re virgin or not. I’m curious.”

You manage to take a look at him from the reflection of the window and you swear you catch a glimpse of a grin across his face.

“Of course, you’re curious. You’re such a pervert.”

A painful, pathetic gasp escapes Ran’s lips and he’s now acting like you’ve just insulted him, “I love and respect women, y’know.”

You turn around, amused, “Uh, huh.”

“You, more than anyone else, should be aware of that,” he takes a quick glance at you before looking back at the road, “I respect you the most.”

There’s a moment of silence after those words and you’re suddenly left with a racing heart in your chest that you fail to believe it’s really yours.

You divert your gaze from Ran’s figure and the car engine becomes less loud the second he stops the car at the red light, engulfing the two of you in an awkward silence.

“I’m not a virgin.”

“Oh.. Wow.”

“Now why do you sound like you weren’t expecting that?”

“It’s not that,” he continues, this time his eyes are darker than usual, as they seem to conceal his most prohibited thoughts that he wouldn’t be able to even fathom himself, “Would you believe me if I said that I wanted to be your first?” your friend asks.

You’re frozen on your seat, unable to process a single word of his.

From your peripheral vision you swear you can see Ran’s face moving closer to yours until the sudden sound of a horn from the car behind makes the two of you flinch.

“Shit, okay—” he mutters under his breath as he looks back at the road; the streetlight has turned green.

You nervously bite your lip, thoughts too scattered to even get a grip of one.

And before you know it, Ran changes the direction that leads to your home as he stops the car at a small parking lot instead.

“Oh. Nice,” is the only thing you manage to say.

“Sorry, okay, I didn’t mean that—”

“Shut up. It’s not like you to say that.”

Your heart is pounding too loudly and when you meet his gaze, you wonder if a rule such as finding your gang member that attractive— dangerously too attractive for your own health, exists.

Because if not, you’ve been surely living your own life behind a stupid wall that’s preventing you from letting Haitani Ran do things to you.

“Then, what do you want me to say?” he looks so stupid with that shit eating grin of his, plastered across his face like it’s on default whenever there’s a chance to activate his dominant side.

“Anything that Haitani Ran would say.”

He lets out a sharp breath before leaning closer to you, “Tell me everything about your first time.”

You should’ve expected that.

---

“Ran— Wait,” you sigh in exasperation as you try to shove away the man who’s currently sucking on your skin.

You’ve just reached your house a few minutes ago, through Ran groping your ass at the entrance, kissing you inside the elevator and now leaving marks on your neck without even letting you close the door behind the two of you.

Ran groans at your complaints, “C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you by the sleeves. Even from a single word you can feel the eagerness, like he’s been longing to do you since the first time his eyes landed on you.

You pay him no mind as you struggle to turn around and just lock the goddamn door of your apartment, Ran’s exigent hands roaming all over your warm body.

When you look back at him, you’re left almost breathless.

You have never seen this side of Ran that has you weak on your knees, his eyes showing you the fervent desire he has never dared to ooze out for so many years.

Without uttering a single word, Ran holds your face before crashing his lips against yours for the second time that night.

Once again, he kisses you with the same enthusiasm of minutes ago, keeping you into his arms as you let him guide you towards your bedroom.

The languid sound of your shared kiss, the whimpers that slip out of your mouth— they all echo through the thick walls.

There’s no sweetness that can be filtered between the two of you.

Tonight is all about piercing two souls yearning for one another.

Ran props you down the mattress, placing himself between your legs before pulling away from the kiss.

You’re underneath him. Your short dress defining every single curve of your body recalls all the nights he has spent fisting his cock while staring at the pictures he has secretly taken of you.

His mind suddenly wanders through all those times he has seen you holding hands with your ex-boyfriend, sometimes even sitting prettily on his lap.

He hated whenever you’d bring him to the meetings— everybody else knew as well that he was way out of your league and you’ve proven it yourself.

Ran sighs, licking his lips, “Has he ever touched you?” he wonders, more to himself.

His fingers grace over your dress, pulling the hem up and revealing your clothed cunt, “Right here?” he gulps, dark orbits meeting yours.

For a moment, he feels a bit hesitant, fingers unable to go furthermore, to reach his lifelong desire.

You have no idea how long Ran has been wishing for this, you’re completely clueless.

You have never seen nor witnessed the obsessive behavior of the man, known as your longtime friend and fellow member of the most notorious gang.

He furrows his eyebrow when you suddenly hold his wrist, guiding him towards your core.

He catches a glimpse of the messy pool marking your panties, and it just takes a few sways of your hips towards his hand to get him back on track.

“Tell me how he touched you,” he orders, sweetly. He observes your face, the way your eyes are avoiding his, your timid but so, so eager small gestures: he knows it all before you can even talk.

“He’s never made you feel like this, has he?” he’s back on being confident with his every word, dragging his fingers towards the lace of your panties.

You shake your head in response, “No… He has never made me feel like this, Ran..”

He should’ve expected that, but he’s still disappointed. He’s disappointed that someone ever had the audacity to treat you so poorly.

And not the way he best believes you deserve to be treated.

The thought of being the only one witnessing you like this right now, soaking wet over the simplest touches of his, has his mind going crazy.

And he wonders how your moans sound like, how you taste like… He’s oh so going to spoil you until you’re all stretched out and the only thing you can babble about is his name. And only his.

Ran wastes no time undressing you. He caresses your cheeks, sucking on your lower lip. He proceeds to leave wet kisses all over your jawline, sucking and dragging his tongue across your cleavage.

Your curves fill his hands, he feels you struggling to rub your thighs as you’re squeezing him between your legs.

He chuckles softly at the sight. Feeling like he has given enough appreciation to your body, he shifts his attention towards your clothed cunt. Ran leans down and lays on his stomach, undressing you completely.

The sight of your cunt gets him hard in an instant. Just like he has always imagined, your cunt’s pretty— he could just stare at it for the rest of his life.

Ran’s blessed with the sight of your inner labia, spread and drenched in your own wetness.

He trails his fingertips around your fluttering hole, earning a sweet whimper from you. Ran drags his thumb across your slit, pressing harder on your clit. He watches the mess you’ve made yourself, as your own fluids drip down your inner thighs.

“Ran…” you breathe. Your friend’s eyes fly open, shifting his whole attention to you. You’re still avoiding eye contact, though your lips parted slightly and the way your back arches at every touch of his are enough to let him know how desperate you are.

“God, you sound like a fucking virgin,” Ran snickers, caressing your thighs lovingly, “I’ll have to take care of you, baby… I’ll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked by anyone else before.”

You’re left flustered at his words, the thought of taking Ran’s cock has you squirm in anticipation, “Please… Please, fuck me, Ran..”

The man between your legs pays you no mind as this time, he drags his flat tongue against your folds. You gasp at the sensation— he’s flicking the tip across your hole, making you feel absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’ve never felt before.

Ran works his tongue on you; he’s swallowing your juices like a man-starved. You taste so sweet on his tongue and he surely can’t get enough of it.

Your breath hitches when you feel him suck on your hard bud and you struggle to adjust yourself underneath him before he grabs your ankles, wrapping them around his shoulders.

He’s immersed between your legs, his tongue is lapping at your folds messily, moaning against your core and sending vibrations down your spine.

“Fuck— Mhh, Ran..” you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming your whole body. The man grins and pulls away, leaving a string of his own saliva behind before spreading it over your whole pussy with his palm.

Every touch of his is like a smoulder, your body taken on fire. The nasty sight has your legs tremble and you can barely even decipher the overwhelming emotions getting over you.

Ran hovers over your body, taking his clothes off as well. The glimpse of the tattoo on his neck instinctively brings your fingers to grace over the inked skin, earning a hum from the man above you.

He grins as he meets your gaze— much to his delight; he takes his time on you, from squeezing your breasts and sucking on your nipples, Ran has gone completely obsessed with praising every single part of your body.

“Ran...” you murmur, too flustered. You’re not experienced: that one time you’ve lost your virginity card, it didn’t even go well— and the thought of Ran having to deal with you breaks your heart and you’re worried whether or not you’ll meet his expectations.

Your friend takes notice of your hesitation, given your furrowed eyebrows and narrowed lips.

He hushes you with a kiss, “I’ve always wanted this, more than anything else,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks, “God… You really have no fucking clue. Maybe I’m insane, but I’ve always wished you were the one I was fucking every night instead of my ex,” there’s a bitter chuckle that escapes Ran’s lips, leaving you speechless.

“Your ex— You.. You loved her,” you try to resonate, but Ran shakes his head, a sinister grin painting across his face.

“I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you,” he retorts, “Just like this,” at those words, your mouth falls open as Ran’s cock splits you open.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the burning sensation. He’s too big. That’s the first thing that comes to your mind.

You gasp as Ran starts rolling his hips to push the head of his cock deeper— tight is his grip on the headboard, trying his very best to move in slowly, letting you adapt to his size.

“Fuck— You feel so good,” Ran groans, praise reaching your ears has you instictively clench your walls around him, “That’s it, baby, that’s it.. Take it all for me, mh? I know ‘s too much.”

It feels like you’re being fucked for the first time. Ran’s size completely outranks your ex boyfriend’s. Everything about Ran can’t ever be compared.

The way he just manhandles you with care, and kisses you eagerly a second later— it’s making you lose your mind.

His cock is long, thick, you can feel it as you’re struggling to take it all. You bite your lip, holding onto Ran’s biceps, letting him ram his cock into you even deeper— it’s almost absurd how you can feel the veins adorning his pretty cock, wrapped around your walls.

“Ran.. Your cock.. ‘S too big,” you cry, tightening the grip on his biceps when he starts thrusting a little bit faster, “Please... Slow— Slow down, Ran..”

“Relax, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he coos, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it, “Atta girl.”

You nod at him, wrapping your legs around his hips, “I’ve.. I’ve never felt like this with him,” you confess, “He’s never made me cum.”

At your words, Ran pounds his cock into you with force until you’ve taken him all, balls deep. You cry at the prickling sensation, your moans and the sound of your skins slapping echo through the wall.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” he moans into your ear, “After I’ll show him how you cum all over my cock like the good girl that you are.”

You watch as he stretches his arm towards the nightstand, grabbing your phone and tapping on the screen mindlessly.

“Ran— What are you—”

“What do you want?”

It’s your ex boyfriend’s voice from the phone.

You look at Ran in horror, motioning him to end the call but the second he holds the phone over your figure, you freeze.

“This. This is what we want,” Ran grins widely, mocking your ex boyfriend and framing his cock hammering into your pussy into the camera, “Look how she’s clenching around me, dude. Taking my fat cock like the good girl she is. Feels so fucking good,” he moans, bringing a hand to play with your tits.

There’s no response from the other side of the phone— not like the two of you care. You’re flustered sure, to know that somebody else is watching the entire scene but at the same time, the thought of Ran showing you off makes you feel triumphant, even confident of yourself.

“Tell him baby, tell him how much you love my cock,” Ran’s still mocking your quiet ex boyfriend. He brings one of your legs over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to hammer his cock into your tight cunt.

“Ran.. I love Ran’s cock!” you moan, tongue lolling out of your mouth and back arching at the feeling of his tip hitting your cervix, “Ran’s cock.. Feels so good, ‘s too big!”

“That’s my girl,” Ran smiles, “This pussy’s all mine” he’s hitting all your right spots and the fact that he’s just using one hand to handle it all makes it even more attractive.

“Cum inside of me..” you’re begging ridiculously— something that your ex boyfriend has never seen you do, “Please, please, Ran. Give me all your cum.”

Your filthy words lead Ran to thrust into you even faster, cock disappearing into your pussy. Without saying anything, he ends the call with your ex and throws your phone away, taking his time to hit your cervix with the thick head of his cock.

Ran curses under his breath, adorning your pretty cunt with all his semen. Most of it makes it inside mixed with your fluids, while the rest drips down your inner thighs. You’re squirming underneath him, moaning his name repeatedly as you reach your climax as well, milking all over his fat cock.

The two of you are panting heavily, Ran’s arms wrap around your body— yet he doesn’t pull away and you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he calls you, kissing your temple, “Let this be the last time we’ll involve your ex boyfriend while fucking.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Are you saying…?”

“I’m surely not planning to make this the last time I’ll fuck you.”

I write books to criticize them, if you hate it I'll join you mf

Gays I found out I'm a beta💪 then my friend is an omega ✊

Gsuch me sifnwkmdks

𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐊!𝐧𝐤

𐀔 Sano Brothers x f!reader [separate]

‣ Smut, aged up characters, bonten!mikey, lactation (duh), pregnancy mentions, nipple play, biting, spit, unprotected sex, lil hand job, mentions of exhibitionism and voyeurism in mikey's part. Not proofread yet cause I’m tired as shit. MINORS, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

❥ Bunny and I were talking about this one night and It's been heavy on the brain since. s/o to her big brain for thirsting with me and giving me ideas.

❥ If you notice the favortism, good.

Shinichiro

Shinichiro was used to doing all the caring and running around and then you came along and started spoiling him like he deserves to be. During your pregnancy, he was very doting and very attentive, even more so than usual. Late nights he used to spend at the shop are now spent in front of the television with Shin massaging your sore feet while you watch 'Strange Love' together. He'd come up behind you and do that thing where he lifts your tummy to take the pressure of your spine a little, chuckling softly at your relieved sigh.

One thing he never really got right away were your swollen tits, he didn't understand how they could make you uncomfortable until you explained it to him. And really, that was all it took, one explanation and now his hands are quick to latch on your mounds at slightest sign of discomfort, kneading them gently while you straddle his lap. He'd stare tranfixed as the milky liquid soaks your shirt beneath his fingers, pulling at the tender bud made you buck into him, clothed core rubbing against his bulge.

"Shin." You whine, squirming on his lap, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you unashamedly start rutting your hips into his.

"Shh, I've got you, love."

Really, he only meant to do it as a way to help you but when his pale pink lips wrapped around your darkened nipple, he couldn't pretend anymore. Fresh milk splashed over his tongue, filled his dry mouth as if it was water from an oasis and Shinichiro couldn't even try to pretend he didn't have ulterior motives. Every offer to help ease your pain ended up with you straddling his lap, orgasming at least twice from Shinichiro's mouth on your puffy bud, tongue following with languid flicks and swirls, desperate to drain every drop from you.

Izana

It came as a shock to you when Izana approached you about his request. He was a nervous wreck as he sat in front of you trying to figure out a way to ask and he definitely tried to downplay said nerves. How does one ask their wife, the mother of their unborn child, if he could drink from them? Answer is, he doesn't ask because you speak fluent 'shy king'. So, you knew what he was trying to convey with the mild stuttering, the slightly unkind defensiveness, the thumb twiddling and the pointed stares at your chest.

Izana is eager but he blames you for making him feel greedy. The minute you agree, he's practically ripping your top to palm at your naked chest. He's herding you into his lap, deft fingers undoing the buttons of his maroon shirt and he takes the time to kiss the exposed skin as the fabric slips from your frame. A reassuring smile from you, along with your nails scratching lightly at his nape, untwists the knot of hesitance in his movements. But his eyes, vast pools of liquid jewels, gives away his anxiousness, and to a lesser extent, the pride that still lingers within him.

"It's okay, Izana. Have your fill." It seemed like one last confirmation from you was all he needed as he wasted no time in latching onto the already sensitive bud.

He hums against you, lashes fluttering as the first few drops land on his tongue and then he casts his heated gaze to meet your own. "I intend to."

Despite his excitement that made him bite down a little too hard the first time, Izana took his new kink in stride; he's very shameless about it. He likes showing off sometimes but understands this is especially intimate and honestly, it's a toss up for what he'll allow in certain moods. Mostly, he would call you into his office, tells you he wants a treat as a reward for him having to be "somewhat not an asshole" to his seemingly incompetent underlings. That's Izana speak for 'Now, I know you're having a baby but I was the first one, please indulge me.'

Izana likes making you cockwarm him while he sucks, gently grips you in a way that has you always leaning forward as he swallows you by the mouthful. His teeth scrape and his tongue laves over the taut bud while he holds you still, pretending to ignore your pleas as he continues his ministrations. He holds eye contact with you, tells you not to look away and definitely teases you when you get worked up. This doesn't mean he won't give you what you want, he will, he always does.

The thought makes him chuckle, a low sound that vibrates his lithe chest, has you clinging even closer to him; you have this man under your thumb and wrapped around your finger. He finds he doesn't mind as his eyes finally shut from the pleasure, the taste of you. You've given Izana Kurokawa several things he needed in this life, missed out on really. So, in return he gives you everything.

Izana starts thrusting up into you, nails digging crescents into the skin of your thighs when you squeeze around him. Shuddering gasps leave his mouth as he continues to bounce you on his dick, shaft glistening with the strings of your arousal caused by the sight of him lapping away at the milk like a depraved dog. He teases you, calls you messy for soaking his uniform pants in cum, acting like he didn't suck on your tits until his eyes knocked back in his head like a pinball, with the white liquid started dribbling down his chin because he doesn't take the time to swallow before seeking out more.

Manjiro "Mikey"

Mikey is already addicted to you, he doesn't like leaving you alone for too long, now imagine you pregnant. He checks up on you a lot, makes sure you're eating and drinking as you should and his bony lil hands are good for massages too. Mikey would rather eat his one musty, black shirt than have you come anywhere near Bonten hq, especially while pregnant. He has a wing dedicated to Bonten business at home, this means that on some days he may not leave, but rather call the others so they come to him. So, if you need him, he's able to get to you immediately, tending to you as best as he can.

Mikey would help you with anything you ask but he'd be lying if he said that helping you when you're horny or when your tits feel heavy wasn't one of his favorites. Like Izana, he'll tease you but Mikey would tease you for wanting his help. But, he does help, latches his teeth to your nipple, bites a little because he knows it makes you squirm. His free hand would be toying with the other bud, tugging and punching while he's sucking you down in greedy pulls that leave his mouth and chin sticky.

"Mikey, will you help me please? Wanna feel you."

Without a word he's stripping the pretty robe from your frame, eyes locked on the slivers of your exposed skin as he guides your hand to his waist. "'Course, said anything you want, right?"

You take the hint, your fingers freeing his aching length from its confines. His stare burns into you, gathering warmth in the pits of your stomach as he watches you spit a glob of saliva on his blushing cock head. His praises blur together after that; your hand stroking his length, your pretty whines in his ear and the semi sweet liquid from your tits makes him feel intoxicated. It was hard to not praise you if you could make him feel weak just from your mere presence, his hips buck into you at the thought that it didn't take much to have him at your mercy.

He's a messy drinker like his older brother but more shameless. Calloused hands would caress your swollen boobs, relishing in your moans as he buries his face into them. He drinks until his eyes are half lidded, the hunger within him satiated enough. He cums faster like this, makes it quicker to line up his throbbing cock with your twitching entrance. Soon he's lightly bouncing you in his lap because he can't waste a drop, his lips finding yours in a kiss that has your heart thumping in your chest.

Several occasions have ended with one of his execs interrupting at some point. Your back is always facing them, lower half covered as you ride your husband's cock. You're no blushing virgin, you've had them as a very willing audience before but sometimes you just want only Mikey's attention on you. When you tell him that, he doesn't hesitate to get rid of them and Kakucho thinks that Manjiro Sano is the only man who can still manage to look menacing with milk running down his chin.

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Happy new year but I forgot to write obbession and it's 3/4 a month since I last wrote a chapter