Wip... And Sorry Ran 🤍

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

— sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

PART ONE 4.9k words

short summary. in which your heartbreak over Mikey pulls you into the dangerous and irresistible orbit of Bonten's Number Two, Haruchiyo Sanzu. warnings. sanzu haruchiyo is his own warning, graphic violence, substance abuse, toxic/manipulative relationships, explicit sexual content, depression & self-destructive behaviour, strong language. tags. female reader insert, bonten au, tsundere!sanzu, ex-boyfriend!mikey, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, heavy pining/yearning.

masterlist

Manjiro Sano once promised you forever. He'd said it so easily back then, like it was a given, something as natural as breathing. You were fifteen, standing by the riverbank after another reckless night, his blonde hair glowing under the streetlights. He had to tilt his head up to meet your eyes then, his expression so open, so sure.

"It's you and me, always."

Now, nearly ten years later, that memory feels like a lifeline in the middle of a storm. You hold onto it so tightly that your knuckles turn white. It's the only thing keeping you grounded as you stand in the shadowed corner of a chapel, watching him slip a ring onto another woman's finger.

The bride is stunning, of course. Her white gown flows around her like something out of a dream, her face set in a serene mask of duty. And Manjiro—Mikey—he looks... distant. Like he's not even there, going through the motions, his face unreadable, hollow. It's a mask you've seen him wear too many times now, a defense mechanism, something to protect the broken parts of him he never lets anyone see.

You sip your wine slowly, the bitter taste doing little to mask the bile rising in your throat. A strange mixture of dark satisfaction and aching sadness twists inside you, an uncomfortable knot of emotions you can't quite unravel. 

He doesn't love her, you remind yourself. He's still yours. He promised.

But the truth is, the wine does little to dull the sharp edge of betrayal. The ceremony feels like a bad dream, one you can't wake up from. 

It's a sham. Just a business arrangement, nothing more. A duty to his late brother Shinichiro, who made a deal with her family long ago, a deal Mikey feels bound to honor. You respect that, you always have. His loyalty is part of what made you fall for him all those years ago.

But it still feels like a knife in your chest, twisted with every vow spoken. You won't question it though. You can't. Because questioning it would mean questioning Shin's memory, and that's something you'll never do. Still, the pain lingers, like a bruise you can't stop pressing on.

As the ceremony ends and the couple walks down the aisle, Mikey's eyes meet yours, even from across the room. For a brief moment, his lips curve into that familiar soft smile, the one that's always been just for you, full of unspoken words and old promises. It's enough to settle your nerves, if only slightly. 

He's still yours, you remind yourself again. This doesn't change anything.

The guests start to shuffle toward the reception hall, but you hang back, feeling the taste of the wine and the weight of the day pressing down on you. The laughter and chatter fades as you step into a quieter hallway, seeking a moment of solitude, a reprieve from the overwhelming noise of celebration.

But you're not alone. A figure leans against the far wall, tall and lean, with faded pink hair that you'd recognize anywhere.

Haruchiyo Sanzu.

Of course, he'd be here. Even though no one from Bonten was supposed to attend, you should've known Sanzu would show up, disregarding protocol like he always does. He's dressed in one of his garish purple suits, the cigarette in his hand burning slowly as he takes a long drag, his katana resting lazily against the wall next to him. The sight of it makes you roll your eyes despite the situation. How he manages to carry that damn thing everywhere without someone calling the cops on him is beyond you.

He doesn't even look at you as you approach, though you know he's aware of your presence. Sanzu's always like that—aloof, unreadable, like he's waiting for something but never telling you what.

Your heels click against the marble floor, the sound too loud in the silence, as you stop in front of him. You cross your arms, defensive. 

You've never liked him. Not since the beginning. And he's never made an effort to hide the fact that he feels the same way about you. His disdain has been obvious for years now—cutting comments, backhanded remarks. Always just subtle enough to avoid Mikey's wrath.

"You shouldn't be here, Number Two," you say, your voice sharp, cutting through the haze of tension.

Sanzu exhales a slow stream of smoke, not bothering to meet your gaze as he taps the ash onto the floor, a flick of his wrist that seems deliberate in its carelessness. 

"Neither should you," he replies, voice lazy, eyes flickering toward you briefly before he adds, with a smirk, "Mistress."

The word lands like a punch to the gut. You stiffen, your chest tightening as anger flares hot and fast inside you. You want to snap back, to tell him to fuck off, but you hold it in, forcing yourself to stay composed.

Sanzu's teal eyes slide back to you, and there's a gleam in them that you hate—a predatory gleam, like he's enjoying this far too much. He tilts his head, studying you like you're something amusing, something to poke and prod until it breaks.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" His voice is smooth, laced with mockery. "You know, it's almost cute. The way you're still holding out hope. Like he's going to drop everything and come running back to you."

Your jaw clenches, but you don't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. You've dealt with Sanzu long enough to know better than to let him get under your skin. He feeds off that kind of thing, turns it into a weapon.

"Shut up," you bite out, your voice low, controlled. "You don't know a damn thing about us."

That earns you a smirk, his scarred lips curling into something cold and twisted. "Don't I?" He takes another drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly as if savoring the moment. 

"I know enough. I know he's up there, at the altar, with his wife, while you're out here clinging to whatever scraps he throws you."

You feel your fists tighten at your sides, nails biting into your palms. The urge to slap that smug look off his face is overwhelming, but you know better. You've learned that lesson the hard way. Sanzu isn't just annoying—he's dangerous. And he wouldn't hesitate to turn this entire ceremony into a disaster just to prove a point.

"Fuck you," you snap, barely keeping your voice steady.

Sanzu's smile fades, replaced by something colder, something far more dangerous. His eyes narrow, and for a brief moment, you wonder if you've pushed him too far. But then he chuckles, low and dark, like he's enjoying the tension between you.

"Feisty today, huh?" His voice is almost amused, but there's an edge to it, a warning. "You're out here sulking while your beloved plays house. Maybe that fairy tale you're clinging to doesn't mean shit anymore."

You feel your heart hammering in your chest, a mix of anger and something you can't quite place. It's the truth in his words that stings the most, the haunting possibility that he could be be right.

"At least I'm not the one standing out here with a stupid katana looking like a fucking fool," you shoot back, your voice sharp.

Sanzu's eyes flash, but instead of responding, he steps forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His presence is suffocating, too close, too intense. You feel your pulse quicken, the air between you crackled with unspoken danger.

"Maybe," he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl. "But you're not untouchable. Sooner or later, even Mikey won't be able to protect you. Then what?"

His words hang in the air like a threat, and for the first time, a shiver of uncertainty runs through you. You meet his gaze, refusing to show fear, but something about the way he's looking at you now—cold, calculating—makes your stomach churn.

You don't answer. Instead, you turn and walk away, your heels echoing in the empty hallway. But Sanzu's words linger, like a dark cloud that follows you, heavy and inescapable. You push them down, focusing on the only thing that matters: Mikey's promise.

But deep down, you wonder if Sanzu's right. And that thought, more than anything, terrifies you.

Manjiro Sano keeps his promises. At least, that's what you've always believed. He said it with conviction when you were fifteen, when his bright blonde hair caught the sunlight and his eyes reflected an unwavering certainty. His promises became your lifeline, a thread that tethered you to him, through the chaos of Tokyo Manji, through Bonten, through all the things that should have torn you apart. You never doubted him.

But now, with a ring on another woman's finger, that belief feels less like truth and more like denial. 

You lie beside him, his arms wrapped loosely around you, his breath steady against your skin. In the quiet darkness, you try to convince yourself that this—you—is still his reality. Not the woman he married out of obligation. Not the business empire he's running. But you, the one he promised forever. The one he swore to love no matter what. 

But there's something cold in his touch tonight. Not the soft warmth you used to know, but a distant, mechanical tenderness. His fingers trace absent patterns on your skin, but they feel foreign now, like they're just going through the motions. He's here, physically, but his mind is far away, lost in a place you can't reach.

"Did something happen?" you ask, keeping your voice light, even as anxiety twists in your stomach. 

He's staring at the ceiling, eyes vacant, as if the weight of the world is pressing down on his chest. The silence is thick, heavy, a barrier between you that wasn't there before. You wish he'd tell you. You wish he'd break through that wall and let you in, but he never does. Not anymore.

He shifts slightly, his eyes meeting yours for just a second. "What do you mean, love?" His voice is soft, casual, but there's something missing. Something that used to be there—a spark, a fire that you could always count on. Now, it's just... hollow.

"You seem distracted," you murmur, choosing your words carefully, even though your heart is screaming to ask more.

Mikey sighs, his chest rising and falling beneath you. He pulls you closer, but the embrace feels almost... polite. Like he's afraid to hold on too tightly. You want to shake him, to tell him to stop being so careful. To hold you like he used to—like he was afraid of losing you. But instead, he just holds you the way someone holds a fragile thing.

"Yeah," he admits, his voice quieter now, as though he's confessing something he doesn't want to. "It's just Bonten stuff."

And that's it. The conversation ends. Your heart clenches at the emptiness of his explanation, at how easily he can sweep your concerns under the rug. 

You know Bonten is complicated—dangerous even—but you've always been kept at a distance from that side of his world. He's never let you close enough to see the true depth of what he's carrying. You've respected his boundaries, trusted him, but now you wonder if that distance is starting to destroy you.

"Oh." The word leaves your lips, but it feels small, insignificant.

The silence returns, thicker than before, wrapping itself around both of you like a suffocating shroud. You stare at him, at the man you once thought you knew so completely, and wonder when he became a stranger.

You want to reach out, to bridge the gap, but fear holds you back. There's a fragility in the air tonight, something that makes you hesitate. If you push too hard, if you ask for too much, you're afraid the entire thing will shatter. Maybe it already has. Maybe that's why his touch feels different now, why his kisses lack the urgency they once had.

You long for the Mikey who would stay up with you until dawn, laughing, his arms tight around you as if you were his whole world. You miss the nights when he couldn't keep his hands off you, when his love felt raw and reckless, a fire that burned brighter than anything else. Now, it's all ashes.

"You don't have to carry it all alone," you whisper, hoping that your words might reach him, might bring him back from wherever he's gone. "I can help. You don't always have to protect me from it."

He doesn't respond right away. For a long moment, there's only the sound of his breathing, deep and rhythmic. When he finally speaks, his voice is distant, almost resigned.

"I know."

But he doesn't mean it. You can hear it in the way he says it—like it's just something he's supposed to say, not something he believes. His walls are still up, and you're on the outside, no matter how close you are in this bed, no matter how many nights you spend together.

You press your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Once, that sound would have comforted you. Now, it only makes you feel more alone. Even when he's with you, he's somewhere else. And the space between you grows wider every day.

"Mikey..." you try again, but your voice falters. 

You want to tell him you're scared. That you're afraid you're losing him, that this marriage is pulling him further away from you than you can bear. But the words won't come.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, but it feels like a goodbye more than a reassurance. And that scares you most of all.

You close your eyes, trying to drown out the doubts, the fear, the aching emptiness. But it lingers, like a shadow that won't go away. You tell yourself he still loves you. He promised you forever. He's just... distracted. It's Bonten. It's the marriage. It's everything else.

But deep down, you know. You know that the Mikey who promised you forever is slipping further and further away. And no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to pull him back.

Manjiro Sano never lies to you. He never has before, and you never thought he could. You know he keeps secrets sometimes, but it's always to protect you—or so you've convinced yourself. You've clung to this justification, repeating it like a prayer when things feel too uncertain. 

When there's a question he doesn't want to answer, he'll give you a vague response, the kind that leaves you in a haze of ambiguity, and you never push him further. You know better than to force the issue. Sometimes, he'll be blunt and tell you outright that it's none of your concern. But a lie? Never.

At least, he never did until now.

Sitting across from him, in the dim light of your shared apartment, the shadows cast across his face, you notice the subtle shift in his expression. His gaze remains low, unfocused, like he's avoiding you. The way his fingers tap against the armrest of his chair—once steady, now restless—betrays him. The quiet cadence of the room, punctuated by the tension building between you, only makes his discomfort more pronounced. 

You know he's lying, even though the words are barely out of his mouth. It feels like a crack splintering through the foundation of your entire relationship.

It's not that you're good at detecting lies; you've never needed to be, not with him. His cold distance has always been paired with an odd, unwavering honesty, no matter how painful it could be. But this time? This time, he's hiding something. His body language is too off, too tense, like he's barely holding onto his own façade.

You asked a simple question: "Where were you?"

He hasn't been home in a week. It's not unusual—Mikey has never been the type to stick around. You've long since accepted the lonely nights, the excuses of 'business meetings' and 'late-night operations' with Bonten. You'd even accepted the wife. 

But something feels different now, a gnawing unease that claws at the back of your mind. You thought he'd say he was dealing with Bonten's usual mayhem, or perhaps, reluctantly admit that he'd been spending time with her. Anything would've been better than the silence hanging in the air now, thick with unspoken truths.

But you never expected him to lie.

Instead of the rage you thought would surge, an icy dread curls through your chest. Fear. A raw, unsettling fear that digs its nails into you as you realize just how far away he feels. As if he's not just sitting across from you, but miles away, unreachable. The distance between you stretches and stretches, suffocating in its vastness. It's like watching him drift out to sea while you stand, helpless, on the shore.

You need answers. The kind you know Mikey won't give you. So you turn to the only other person who might know what's going on: Haruchiyo Sanzu.

God, you hate him. There's not a day that passes where you don't fantasize about knocking that arrogant smirk off his face. Sanzu embodies everything that repels you—his cruelty, his recklessness, his toxic devotion to Mikey. But one thing you can count on is that Sanzu never spares your feelings. If anything, he takes sadistic pleasure in tearing you down with his cold truths. 

And that's why you're standing here, in front of his door, hand trembling slightly as you press the doorbell. The silence stretches, your heartbeat loud in your ears. You press the button again, your anxiety spiking with each passing second. 

Finally, the door creaks open, and there he is—Sanzu. He leans lazily against the doorframe, like your presence is a personal offense. His disheveled appearance surprises you—hair unkempt, shirt unbuttoned at the top. There's a faint scent of soap, but he looks like he's been in a rush, as if your arrival interrupted something.

His eyes narrow, flashing with irritation. "The fuck are you doing here?" His voice is cold, almost bored, like he can't be bothered to care.

"I need to talk to you." You're surprised your voice comes out steady when everything inside you feels like it's spiraling out of control.

Sanzu doesn't even give you the courtesy of a full response. He turns, slamming the door behind him, heading toward the elevator without a second glance. You follow, your pulse quickening. His long strides make it difficult to keep up.

"Where are you going?" you ask, slightly breathless. You hate how small you feel next to him, like you're always scrambling to catch up.

"To work. Where else?" He doesn't even look back as he taps the elevator button impatiently. His eyes flick to you briefly, condescending, before he adds, "Unlike you, I don't have the luxury of doing nothing all day."

The dismissiveness in his tone grates on your nerves. You swallow back the retort, knowing it's not worth the fight. You're not here to argue with Sanzu—you're here for something much more important.

The elevator ride is thick with tension, the air suffocating between you. He stares at the floor numbers as they change, clearly eager to get away from you. You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to say what you came here for.

"I need to ask you about Bonten." Your words feel heavy in the silence.

Sanzu's head snaps toward you, eyes sharp and piercing. There's a moment of silence, and you feel the weight of his stare, like he's assessing how much to toy with you before answering.

"I warned you," he says, voice dangerously low. "Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Just because you're Mikey's little sidepiece doesn't mean you're part of this world."

Sidepiece. The word hits like a slap, stinging far more than you'd care to admit. But you hold your ground, your voice sharper now as you bite back, "I was asking nicely, wasn't I?"

He lets out a cruel chuckle, his amusement laced with mockery. "And you should've known better than to come to me."

When the elevator doors open, Sanzu strides out, leaving you to catch up once again. You hurry behind him, the cold concrete of the basement parking lot biting through your shoes as you watch him head toward the row of parked bikes.

"Just tell me where Mikey's been," you call out, your voice cracking slightly. The desperation seeps through despite your best efforts to keep it buried. 

Sanzu doesn't even slow down. He throws a leg over his black superbike, adjusting the helmet in his hands. 

His tone is icy as he responds, "Why the hell would I tell you?"

You feel the panic rising, the gnawing insecurity clawing at your chest. You can't let this go. 

"It's his wife, isn't it? Something's going on between them?" The words tumble out before you can stop them, but you know it's true.

Sanzu finally turns to face you, his expression dark, a twisted glint in his eyes. "You really wanna know?" His voice is like a knife, cold and cutting. 

"Married couples fuck and have kids. You didn't think they'd just sit around holding hands, did you?"

Your world tilts. Pregnant. Mikey's wife is pregnant. The words hang in the air, crushing you. Sanzu's bike roars to life, drowning out everything as he speeds away, leaving you standing there, reeling.

Manjiro Sano says he still loves you. He says it so many times, even when you confront him about her pregnancy. You have tears in your eyes, your voice quivering as the words left your lips. His hands, warm and gentle, hold you close—just like always. The softness in his embrace feels too familiar, almost comforting, like you could convince yourself, just for a moment, that nothing has changed. That you could still believe him.

He'd whispers that she might be his wife, but you are the one who had his heart. That his feelings for you haven't shifted, not even after this new life he is bringing into the world. That you still matter.

But something about it never sits right after that day.

It isn't the sex that bothers you. You've made peace with that. He is married, after all, and while it stings, you tell yourself it's just physical. Something they have to do. Something that won't affect your place in his life. Mikey's quiet assurances of love are enough to quell the hurt, at least for a while. He always knows exactly what to say, how to soothe your insecurities without letting them fester.

Until they do.

Each time he doesn't come home, doesn't call, doesn't text—each time he leaves you waiting, that old promise of his love grows weaker. It starts to feel like a distant echo, hollow and fragile. The uncertainty eats you away, the creeping doubt filling the space between your conversations. And then comes the guilt. You couldn't ignore it anymore, couldn't shove it to the back of your mind. She is pregnant with his child. 

And you? 

You are the other woman now. The mistress. The sidepiece. 

You tell yourself to be patient, to wait it out, to trust him. But those same reassurances you cling to begin unraveling with every unanswered phone call. Mikey's silences cut deeper than his words ever could, a painful reminder that you are no longer the center of his world. You are becoming the afterthought.

And today is your ninth anniversary. Nine years.

Nine years since the day the two of you had become inseparable, since the day you thought you'd be each other's forever. And as you get ready, as you slip on your favorite dress and touch up your makeup, you're hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia—memories flooding back of how you used to be. How easy it was back then, how natural everything felt when there were no lies between you. 

It takes everything in you to keep your spirits up as you head to his office, imagining the look on his face when you surprise him. Maybe that's what you need—a face-to-face reminder of who you are to him. That spark between you will rekindle, and the distance will melt away.

You hope.

The lobby feels colder than usual, and as you step inside, something feels off. The receptionist greets you with a stiff smile. You've seen her enough times to know that she's never this tense. She doesn't say much, but there's an awkwardness in the air, like she knows something you don't.

Your nerves tighten as you enter the elevator. The ride to the top floor feels longer than usual, the anticipation in your chest growing with each passing second. When the doors open, you step out into the executive lounge, the familiar sight of Bonten's most trusted members lounging around.

Ran is the first to notice you, his lazy smirk never quite reaching his eyes. Kakucho is next, nearly spilling his drink when he spots you.

"You okay there?" you ask with a light laugh, trying to ignore the unease in the pit of your stomach.

Kakucho straightens up, but his eyes dart nervously toward the hallway that leads to Mikey's office. "You here to see Mikey?" he asks, his voice strained.

You nod, offering him a small smile. "Yeah. I thought I'd surprise him." 

Ran's smirk doesn't falter, but there's something about the way he's watching you that makes your skin prickle. 

"Surprise, huh?" he says, his voice cool and detached.

Kakucho shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering between you and the hallway again. "Maybe now isn't the best time..." he starts, his voice trailing off as if he doesn't want to finish the thought.

But you brush off the strange tension between them. Kakucho's always been awkward with you, right? 

You make your way down the hall, your heels clicking against the marble floors in rhythm with your racing heart. This is supposed to be a happy moment—your anniversary. You don't want to ruin it by reading too much into their strange behavior.

But then you hear it.

A voice. Her voice.

You freeze mid-step, the sound of her moaning his name sending a violent shock through your system. The world around you blurs, your body moving on autopilot as you edge closer to the door, your hand trembling as you press it against the wood. The crack in the door is just wide enough for you to see.

Mikey is there, his wife's legs draped over his shoulders, his hands on her thighs, his face pressed between her legs.

You can't breathe. 

This is different.

Not the act itself—but the intimacy, the tenderness in how he touches her. He's doing something for her that he's never done for you. Not once, in all your time together, had he ever gone down on you. But here he is, giving her something more, something deeper. And you feel your heart shatter into a million pieces.

You can't stay here.

Your feet carry you backward, your movements slow, cautious. You shut the door as softly as you can, careful not to make a sound. Your entire body feels numb, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach as you stand there, staring at the ground, trying to process what you've just seen. 

Why did he never do that for you?

A rush of shame washes over you, mingling with the rage bubbling in your chest. You'd always told yourself you were enough for him. But now you wonder—were you? Was it all a lie, just something to keep you hanging on, while he gave her all the things you thought were reserved for you?

The world feels like it's tilting around you, the walls closing in as you stand there, numb. The sound of footsteps snaps you back to reality.

"You're here to see Mikey too?" Kakucho's voice filters through the haze.

"Yeah, yeah," comes the lazy reply. 

It's Sanzu, his voice slurred and casual, as if nothing in the world could touch him. He's closer now, and you barely register it, lost in the whirlwind of your own thoughts.

Ran's voice follows, a teasing edge to his tone. "Dude, you're tripping balls."

Sanzu laughs, a sound so careless it makes your skin crawl. "Friday night, what'd you expect?"

Before you can fully process the situation, a rough hand grabs you by the arm and yanks you back. You stumble, whirling around to face him.

Sanzu.

His teal eyes are wild, bloodshot and blown wide from whatever cocktail of drugs he's taken today. You know he's high, as the smell of drugs clinging to him, intoxicating the air around you.

"What the fuck are you up to this time?" he sneers, his voice low and mocking.

You try to pull away, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging painfully into your arm. "S-Sanzu, I—"

He cuts you off, his face uncomfortably close to yours now. "Scared?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. The sick amusement in his voice makes your stomach turn. He's enjoying this—enjoying your fear, your vulnerability.

You try to twist free, but he pulls you closer, his lips curling into a twisted smile. "You should be," he whispers, his voice dripping with malice.

Your heart races, panic clawing at your chest. Sanzu when he's like this—high, unpredictable—is a beast you've learned to fear. He's always been unstable, but now, he's downright terrifying.

Yet, as you stand there, trembling in his grasp, all you can think about is Mikey. The lie he told you. The image of him with her, of how easily he discarded you, flashes through your mind again and again.

I still love you.

The words are poison now, burning through you as Sanzu's grip tightens.

< part one ends >

author's notes. heyy sanzu kinnies <3 i'm so excited to finally share the first part of 'bonten's number two'!! this idea has been brewing in my head for two years lol and i cant wait to see what you think ;) if you enjoyed it, please consider leaving notes! i'd love to hear your thoughts!! thanks for reading guys! you're awesome (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

taglist. @iluv-ace @reiners-milkbiddies (comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

© CANDYEAGER. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any other platforms.

apparently my type is people with nice smiles (and tattoos) 

"u are so quiet" ok so make me moan then

I think about you a lot sometimes

I wish we could talk again

I know you’re doing other things

But I wish you’d forget all that and talk to me

i cant prove it but light yagami definitely writes down every gay person’s name he encounters his death note because he refuses to accept the fact that he’s mega homosexual in a closet made of glass

“My child is fine”

Your child has an obsession with multiple people and they’re not even real.

gojo. gojo!! ^^ gojo (๑>◡<๑) gojo (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ GOJOOOO!!!!!!!! gojo???!?!! gojo. GOJO ^^ gojo ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- gojo :] GOJO!!!!!!!! gojo. gojo!! ^^ gojo ৻(≧ᗜ≦৻) gojoooo ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) GOJO!!!!!!!! gojo???!?!! gojo. gojo ^^ gojoヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ gojo :]

Nagi | Blue Lock additional time #28 "You remind me of..."

using toji's cum to condition my hair

late night thoughts ft. haitani brothers & sanzu h. (bimbo edition!)

haitani brothers x fem!reader x sanzu haruchiyo

warnings: fem!reader, poly, bimbo!reader, kanto manji!bonten trio, possessive behavior + jealousy, lowkey manipulation and gaslighting, manhandling, exhibitionism, cockwarming, facefucking, degradation, hair pulling, mirror sex (ish), thigh riding, voyeurism (?), slight humiliation, masturbation (m)--all characters 18+ ofc

wordcount: 3.5k

They all knew better. As much as the men of Kanto Manji loved to leer, imaginations going wild as you passed through the base in short skirts and low-cut shirts, they all knew better than to act on any of the carnal impulses that stir on your arrival at base. They knew who you belonged to--and the last one that had tried their hand at you was still comatose in the hospital.

But you were just… so fucking dumb, and you were oblivious to how possessive your three boyfriends were >:( Those poor men tried so hard to steer clear of you, they tried so fucking hard to hide how wound up they got whenever you were around but you were just clueless--bounding right toward the first person that made eye contact with you like a happy puppy, thinking that all they wanted to do was talk but were too nervous to approach you.

And these poor, poor men because what were they supposed to do? They know damn fucking well that talking to you would end up with them inevitably getting beaten half to death by Haitani Ran’s baton because how dare they think themselves good enough to talk to his girl, but walking away from you and making you upset would draw Sanzu Haruchiyo’s ire because how dare they upset his pretty little princess. It really was a lose-lose situation, and all they could do was hope and pray that they weren’t the unfortunate soul you decided to approach.

“And it was just so sad, you know?” pouting, you leaned in close to the man you were talking to, unaware of the concerned looks being sent his way by some of the others in the room, unaware of the growing horror pooling in the man’s gut as you blissfully chatted on about how you saw a dead animal on the side of the road on the way here. “Like, who would just leave it there, right? At least bury it somewhere, I-”

“What’s going on here?”

Ignorant to the way the man you had been talking to stiffened like a board, you spun around, delighted at the sight of not one, but both of the Haitani brothers standing behind you. Giggling, you threw your arms around Rindou, who was closest, burying your face into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist, easily lifting you up off the floor.

“Rin!” you said gleefully, legs tightening around his waist, skirt riding up dangerously causing all of the other men in the room to avert their eyes--well, except the poor guy who you had been talking to, right in front of you and far too close to move his gaze before catching an eyeful. Ran cocked his head to the side, an unkind smile tugging at his lips as considered the man.

“Pretty girl,” Ran complained, voice teasing but sharp gaze never leaving the other man, “am I chopped liver?”

“No, no,” you said, making no move to detach yourself from Rindou as he shared a look with his brother over your shoulder, “‘m sorry, Ran.”

“I’m sure you are, pretty,” Ran murmured and you giggled, lifting your head from Rindou’s neck to prop your chin up on his shoulder, Ran shifted, standing behind his brother so he could lean down and give you a brief kiss on the lips, “You go with Rindou, I’ll meet up with you guys in a minute.”

Pouting as he pulled away, you looked up at him, “Why aren’t you coming with us?” you asked, oblivious to the dark look in his eyes as he smiled at you and patted your head.

“Just got a lil something to take care of, doll, promise I’ll be right there,” you nodded, tilting your head up as you beckoned Ran to lean down for one more kiss.

He did as you wanted, of course, Haitani Ran was good at a lot of things--denying you anything was most certainly not one of them.

On the topic of being spoiled--god is Sanzu the biggest offender and he sees absolutely no wrong with it because of course his pretty princess should be given everything she wants >:(

Sanzu Haruchiyo has you sitting pretty on his lap every time he gets the chance, fingers dancing along your sides, lips gliding across your bare neck, cock filling you up--and no one dares whisper or even look twice when they see you trembling on his lap in the middle of base, face hidden in his neck, arms shaking around his shoulders, skirt hiked up suspiciously high because they know the Kanto Manji vice president had a temper that was especially short when it came to you.

But Sanzu Haruchiyo could also be mean, having you cockwarm him for hours on end, refusing to let you get yourself off because you were so, so pretty dumb and crying on his cock, begging him to please just move because you’ve been so good for him, haven’t you?

“Haru,” your voice was so soft and weak in his ear and it was like music to him, really. He already knew what you were going to ask, and his scars twitched up in amusement as he pressed his lips against your marked up neck again, reveling in how your body shuddered underneath his touch, “Haru, will you please let me cum?”

And it was so tempting, it really was, cause your cunt hugged him so fuckin’ tight, you were dripping onto his white pants and he wanted to do nothing more than bend you over the meeting table and fuck you right in front of all of the other Kanto Manji higher ups. But he wouldn’t because he knew that Hanma Shuji and Madarame Shion had their eyes on you too often already and there was no way he was going to give them more ammunition by letting them hear how pretty you sounded cumming for him.

“Haru, been good, been so long,” he could feel your nails clawing at the back of his jacket, could feel your tears and makeup staining the skin of his neck but all he did was smooth a hand over your back, rubbing soothing circles over your skin, “Please, Haru, please, please please-”

You tried to rock your hips against his, he grimaced, jaw clenching and hands flying to your waist to keep you still. A hiss of breath escaped his lips as he felt your walls flutter around him, squeezing him so tight it nearly had his eyes rolling back. Next to him, he threw Ran a filthy glare as the older Haitani snorted. You knew better than to push the limits with him or Rindou--the two of them had put you in your place more than once, but Sanzu just didn’t have the same sort of self-control that they had when it came to you and knowingly or not, you took advantage of that.

But he was not going to let Hanma Shuji or Madarame Shion have the pleasure of watching and listening to you cum around his cock.

His grip tightened around your waist to the point he was sure it must’ve been bruising your skin but instead of stilling, which he knew you knew he wanted you to do--you weren’t that stupid--you tried to move again. Temper and restraint peaking, he leaned forward, lips brushing your ear, “Keep fuckin’ testing me, princess, I won’t let you cum for a week.”

And fuck, as much as he loved the silly, dazed grin on your face when he gave you everything you wanted--he couldn’t hold back the slow smirk that crawled onto his face when noticed the genuine nervousness that spread across your expression at his words.

Cute, he noted, brushing your hair out of your face, wiping away the sweat starting to bead at your forehead. Maybe, he decided, not giving you what you want all the time would be worth it.

And Rindou. Rindou’s just so fuckin’ mean. He makes fun of you all the time for being so dumb, rolling his eyes and telling you should know better than to believe Sanzu’s shit by now, getting pissy when he has to repeat himself for the second, third, fourth, fifth time because you were too distracted by his brother’s fingers teasing up your skirt; too busy ignoring him for Ran’s flirtations as usual.

“Get the fuck up,” Rindou spat, watching as your pretty smile faltered, looking up from where you were leaning in close to his brother, running your fingers through his hair. You didn’t move, Rindou darted forward, hand curling around the collar of your shirt and yanking you right off of the couch.

“Rin!” you gasped.

“Rindou,” Ran warned, voice low, Rindou only glared at his brother--as if he would ever actually hurt you, he was always careful not to grab you too harshly or jerk you around too sharply. You stumbled onto your feet and right into him, eyes wide and pretty as you looked up at him, hands balanced on his chest.

“Get on your fuckin’ knees,” he said, heat rising to his lower abdomen when you dropped to your knees for him almost instantly--dumb as rocks, yeah, but at least you were an obedient little whore. For him, at least.

His hand curled itself around your hair, gripping it tight. He watched you wince as your eyes met his, still wide, tears pricking at them. He forcibly turned your head to the side, making you look at yourself in the mirror on the opposite wall, “Look at you, dropping to your knees just ‘cause I asked. You really are just a cock-hungry whore, aren’t you?”

You shook your head, tears spilling from your eyes as you looked at him through the mirror. His grip on your hair tightened, “Said look at yourself, not me,” your eyes darted back to the reflection of yourself immediately, “How are you gonna see yourself and say you’re not just a fuckin’ slut? Isn’t that why you’re fuckin’ around with me, Ran and Sanzu--just can’t get enough with only one of us.”

You shook your head again and he forced turned your head back so that you were looking up at him, “‘s not true,” you sniffled, lips trembling, “Rin, I love you guys, ‘m not-”

He brushed his thumb over over your cheek, wiping away some of the tears streaming down your cheeks, and of course he knew you actually loved them but it was just too fucking fun to make you stress over it.

“Can prove it! ‘can prove it, Rin!” and he tilted his head to the side, waiting for you to continue. He watched as your eyes flickered down to his already half-hard cock and Rindou almost laughed. Convincing him by doing the very same thing he was ‘accusing’ you of using them for, you’re fuckin’ precious.

But Rindou was never one to turn down a good blowjob so he just nodded his chin at you, go ahead, and watched in amusement as you fumbled with his belt. Sharing a brief look with Ran, who seemed just as entertained by your choice of convincing him, he looked back down at you after you managed to free his cock from his pants.

He tapped your cheek with two fingers, you looked up at him, “Hands behind your back and open wide.”

One hand finding its way back to your hair and the other guiding his cock to your mouth, he inhaled sharply as your tongue darted out to lick the precum beading at his slit. His grip tightened, you winced again.

“Sit there pretty for me,” he said and you nodded, keeping your mouth open wide as he pushed his cock into your mouth, jaw clenching at the feeling of your warm mouth surrounding him, watching as your brows furrowed briefly as you tried to adjust to his size before he went any deeper.

He did not give you the chance.

He groaned as he pushed your head down fully on his cock, feeling you gag around the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing around him. Oh fuck, he thought, eyes trained down on you, watching as you kept your hands behind your back even as your every instinct told you to push yourself off of his cock so you could breathe.

“Good girl,” he murmured, drawing his hips back briefly before snapping them back against your mouth, fucking your throat at a steady pace, watching you choke and gag all over him, drool spilling over the corners of your mouth and down your chin, tears streaming down your face.

You were a fucking mess and Rindou was sure you’d never looked prettier.

You never knew what to expect with Ran, for better or for worse. He was always the most charming of your three boyfriends, he always had you giggling silly and blushing, but it was a matter of whether or not it was a nice charming or a mean charming. Charming in a way that had you stuttering and stumbling over your words, blushing like a fool or charming in a way that still had you blushing but also had tears stinging your eyes because there was a cruel undertone that even you couldn’t miss. It gave you whiplash, really.

“My pretty girl,” Ran cooed, running the back of his finger across your cheek, the cool metal of his ring making you shiver, “always all dolled up for us, aren’t you?”

Ran waited for you to nod before speaking again, “Are you sure it’s just for us?” he asked after a moment, voice cold as ice, and you blinked, reeling at the sudden change of tone, “I’m not sure if it is, I see the way you strut around base for all of the other fuckers here. Saw you cozying up to Hanma Shuji earlier too--while me, Rin and Sanzu were busy talking to Mikey and Kokonoi.”

“Huh?” was all you could say, staring at Ran blankly as he tilted his head to the side, lavender eyes sharp. You shifted on his lap nervously, eyes looking anywhere but at his face. His hand darted out to grab you by the chin, grip painful as he forced you to look at him. You swallowed, watching as his loose hair fell into his face, barely resisting the urge to brush it away, “I was just saying hi, Ran, he offered to wait with me until you’re done.”

His thin smile was cruel, “Oh, did he?” Ran drawled and you nodded hesitantly, feeling distinctly as if you had made a mistake, “and him waiting with you involved you feeling him up?”

What-

“What?” you gasped, “Ran, I-”

“Yes you did,” it was Rindou that spoke, and you turned to look at the younger Haitani in disbelief. Desperately, you looked at Sanzu for help but found no support as he watched you coolly. Why were they ganging up on you?! They never ganged up on you! They were always arguing with each other.

“I tripped,” you said, flustered, and you had, you had been walking with Hanma toward where Sanzu had told you to meet them and you tripped over an uneven plank in the flooring, Hanma had caught you from crashing painfully into the ground.

“You tripped,” Ran mocked, “I bet you did.”

“I did,” you said, shifting again in his lap and inhaling sharply as his leg bounced up, unintentionally grinding against your clit. His eyes sharpened in on you and you pressed your lips together, praying that missed it or that he let it go if he happened to notice, but you should’ve known better.

Haitani Ran does not miss anything, nor does he let anything go.

“Oh?” he murmured, fingers ghosting your thighs, “What’s this? Our pretty girl is needy?”

You shivered as his long fingers drifted across your inner thighs, whimpering as they brushed over your clothed cunt, “So wet already,” he clicked his tongue sharply, “and you expect us to believe it’s for us when we haven’t even touched you. Did Hanma Shuji make this wet, pretty girl? You’re sitting here on my lap still thinking of him?”

“No!” you protested immediately, “Ran-”

“Prove it,” he said, voice icy and you stared at him once again, unsure of how he wanted you to prove it. His gaze darted down to his leg, you followed it before looking back up in confusion, “If you’re this wet for us,” he cooed, “you should have no problem getting yourself off by riding my thigh, right?”

Your mouth dried up, eyes nervously shooting toward Sanzu and Rindou, both of whom were watching the two of you. You were no stranger to exhibitionism, Sanzu had you cockwarming him during nearly every Kanto Manji meeting at this point, but the thought of them watching you get yourself by rubbing yourself on his thigh had embarrassment swelling through your stomach.

“Ran-” you began but cut yourself off as he raised his eyebrows, leaning back in the couch before pointedly looking down at his leg again.

Go on, he told you.

Lips trembling, you rocked your hips lightly against his thigh. Ran’s eyes remained on you, unimpressed. You gasped as his hands curled around your hips, grinding you down so hard against his thigh that it had your back arching and hands shooting toward his shoulders to find some sort of leverage.

“Ran!” you cried out but he didn’t continue, instead hooking one arm around the back of the couch and the other working at the zipper of his pants.

“Keep going,” he told you, “and maybe I’ll let you cum on my cock after you finish on my thigh once.”

Tears spilled over your cheeks as you heard Rindou make a comment about you looking like a desperate whore but you couldn’t take your eyes off of where Ran’s long fingers were running up and down his pretty, pretty cock. You could feel your cunt aching empty as you rolled your hips against his thigh again, half-sobbing as he bounced his leg up lightly, putting more pressure on your clit.

A high-pitched moan escaped your lips as Ran bounced his leg in time with the strokes of his fist around his cock, head thrown back and lips parted, “Ra-an, Ran! Wan’ you to fill me up, Ran, want you in me,” you cried loudly, nails digging into his black jacket, “Ran, ‘lease fill me up, wan’ your cock.”

“Pretty girl,” Ran laughed, voice catching and a shameless moan slipping past his lips as he squeezed the base of his cock lightly, “You don’t deserve my cock yet, you know what to do if you want it.”

And this time you did sob, tears blurring your eyes as you continued to helplessly rock your hips against Ran’s thigh, grinding down as hard as you could in a futile attempt to push yourself over the edge but how the fuck were you supposed to make yourself cum just from grinding against his clothed thigh when you could see him fucking his fist with his cock? When you could see what exactly you were missing out on? You were too empty, too empty, how were you supposed to cum without being stuffed full after them constantly spoiling you with their cocks?

“I ca-ant,” you clawed at his jacket, “Need to be filled n-”

“If you make me help you, won’t fuck you for two weeks, will make sure Rindou and Sanzu don’t either--you'll get real used to getting off on our thigh then,” Ran threatened and a broken moan of his name left your lips as his free hand shot forward to grab your neck, forcing you to look at him. “Hurry the fuck up and cum.”

The words in combination with one last rock of your hips and one particularly hard bounce of his leg had your vision going white and your body tensing and your nails raking down his clothed chest as you came all over his thigh. Distantly, you heard Rindou and Sanzu murmuring to one another but your mind went black as Ran helped you ride out your high, grinding his leg up into you and holding your hips down against him with his free hand.

“There you go,” you barely heard him over the blood roaring in your ears, words barely registering as your mind went near-blank from the intensity of your orgasm, “That’s it, pretty girl, knew you could do it for me.”

His voice was warmer as you slumped limp into his chest, breath heavy and body shaking. He rubbed gentle circles onto your back, “Don’t tap out on me yet, pretty girl,” he chuckled, “you’ve got quite the night ahead of you, you know?”

They are bullies >:( but they love you dearly, and god help anyone else that tries to bully you because they can and will fuck them up beyond recognition.

---

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