#[ yakuza au ]

[mullermilkshake]

When Yakuza!Sukuna realised you could look after yourself and was just as stubborn as he was at times, it was the single most hottest thing he ever saw.

[kkumri]

ykz au pt 1: MIYA

[wttcsms]

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ you know i'll take you there

ᝰ.ᐟ shinsuke isn't too happy after your little escape attempt, and he makes it known. (fem!reader)

word count 2.5k content contains mating press, creampie, yakuza au, yandere themes, dubcon, praise kink, pet names (good girl), depictions of violence (not towards reader) author's notes sorry for lack of context; this is meant to take place after this fic concept

Shinsuke Kita doesn’t flinch when he pulls the trigger on a gun. 

The recoil doesn’t even register for him; when you do something for so long, eventually, it just becomes second nature. Like the mechanical movements you do when you brush your teeth, or the way you can tie your sneakers without having to actually look at the laces — shooting someone in the head is a mundane thing for Kita, for his line of work. He does it so often, has practiced it ever since he was a young boy, that what he does after is muscle memory. He removes the handkerchief from his suit and wipes the tiny splatter of blood that ended up getting on his cheek. He folds the sullied handkerchief neatly, tucking it away in the inner pocket of his suit. He makes sure the safety on his gun is in place, and he nods for Aran to drag the dead body away. 

When Aran takes his leave, the still-warm corpse in tow, the only people left in the room are Kita and a very scared young man. 

One of these men will be leaving this room, and the other will be hoping for a death as swift and merciful as the flawless execution Kita just delivered. 

“I told you there would be consequences,” Kita doesn’t taunt his victims. He’s not the type to do so. Cold and calculated — his own gang considers him to be a robot, and for the longest time, Kita agreed with them. But that was then, and this is now. Now, Kita has a reason to drag out his torture. Now, Kita understands what it’s like to find his very reason for existing. His purpose isn’t to lead one of the biggest yakuza families in the underground criminal world of Japan. His purpose is to devote his very being to you, and vice versa. 

So imagine how heartbroken he felt when he caught you trying to escape from the farmhouse he built for the two of you. And this man, a low-level runt in his group, had been foolish enough to give in and help you. 

“Please, sir, I wanted no part in the escape! She begged me, she—”

“She’ll receive her own punishment. I value fairness, after all.” Kita interrupts him, sounding as cold as the blood running through the young man’s veins. He’s frozen in fear as he tries to stammer out more excuses, more explanations, more promises to do better in the future but—

—there really isn’t much of a future for him. Not one that he’ll be happy to live in, at least. Kita is fair; having you slip away would have killed him internally. So now, Kita has to kill this man internally. Crush his spirit. Make him dream of death, dangle death in front of his face like a treat to a dog, but never, ever allow him such a kindness. 

(Kita is a fair leader, but very rarely is he kind. 

Kindness will get you killed. 

The boy dumb enough to help you — he’s kind.)

Kita retrieves a knife from one of the inconspicuous cabinets in this room. The fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling casts a warm glow over the both of them, but the blade of the knife reflects back the light, makes it shine in the poor boy’s face. He flinches. 

“Do you remember?” Kita asks him, turning the knife as if to inspect it from every angle. 

“Wh-what?” He stutters out, sounding breathless. He might be on the verge of a panic attack. That’ll make things messier than they need to be. 

“Do you remember what hand you used when you held hers?” Kita clarifies. He sounds calm, but the sight of another man holding your hand had him seething. Even now, it takes everything in him to not plunge the knife right into this young man’s heart, to twist the blade ‘round his insides, make him hurt like how Kita hurt when he witnessed it. 

“It was your left hand.” Kita answers for him. “Fortunately, you’re right-handed. Surely it won’t be too much of an inconvenience for you after I’m done sawing it off.” 

Kita’s chopped off a few fingers and one hand before, but never has he attempted to do it with a medium sized knife. A knife with a purposely dull blade. 

He smiles faintly. Sometimes, it can be fun to break routine and try new things.

You’re in bed by the time Kita returns home. He’s back later than he expects; it turns out, his little experiment with the dull blade is very, very messy. Maybe with practice, he’ll perfect that, too. That boy still has another hand to spare, after all. 

Feeling satisfied with himself, Kita starts humming gently as he makes his way to your shared bedroom. Before you, Kita never bothered making unnecessary noise. He rarely listened to music, but now—

The sting of your betrayal has lessened considerably. Kita isn’t even upset with you anymore. It’s normal for couples to fight and want to storm out on each other, but what matters most is that at the end of the day, he’s coming home to find you warming his bed. 

In his line of work, simple pleasures aren’t usually so sweet. 

You don’t stir when he joins you in bed, the mattress dipping just the slightest bit due to the sudden shift in weight, but he makes his presence hard to ignore, even in your slumber, when he presses his chest against your back, his lips nipping gently on the soft skin of your ears. 

You whine, your eyesight blurry as your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. You’re instantly aware of Kita’s body covering your own, and when he feels the subtle shivers of your body, the both of you know it’s not because of the chill of the air conditioner.

He makes a tiny grunt of disapproval. Even after all this time, you’re scared of him? Silly girl — he’d never do anything to hurt you. 

Well, nothing that would hurt you too badly. 

“Did ya have a good dream?” He asks you, breath warm against your ear. 

You swallow hard, not brave enough to shift your body. Ever since the truth came out, the fact that sweet Shinsuke is more than just an average overworked businessman but is a yakuza crime boss, things have never been the same between you two. Kita is nothing if not persistent, though. He still cuddles up against you, he still whispers sweet nothings in your ear, he’s still affectionate and downright loving in every action he does towards you. 

He knows not to expect an answer from you, especially when he plays with the bottom hem of your silk nightgown. “Wish ya would tell me what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.” 

You can picture him frowning; as perceptive as he is, you know that he prefers hearing your thoughts directly from you. 

“What happened to Goto?” You dare to ask, and the air seems to shift in your bedroom. 

Kita is gripping the soft flesh of your thighs, his hand large and imposing, rough with calluses and forever red with blood. You never really learn, you suppose, about how there’s a time and place for such questions. 

“Goto received his punishment.” Kita answers calmly, voice steady but cold. “And I nearly forgot about yours.” 

Liar. You want to call him out, but you at least have enough self-preservation to bite your tongue. As if Kita would ever forget. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since your little escape attempt. 

Kita adores you, loves you, because in a world of greedy, nasty, spiteful little creatures, you are kind and caring and full of the sugary sweet goodness he’s always going to have a taste for. It’s why he’s not surprised when you ask him, 

“Is he… alive?” 

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Is that what you’re really worried about? Goto, over the broken heart of your husband?” 

When you don’t answer, Kita tightens his grip on your thigh, contemplating his next move, before he lets his hand travel to the apex of your thighs, his knuckles brushing against your bare cunt. He’s pleased to find out that you’re still his obedient, sweet girl, following his direct order of going to bed without a bra or panties. Some nights, he’s so tired, any excess fabric is a hindrance. 

“If you have a heart, you’ll tell me what happened to him.” You mumble, trying to ignore the way your body craves for Kita’s touch. Before the truth of his second life came out, you were an addict for him. No one has ever touched him the way he’s touched you, and even now, when you want to ignore him and try to remind yourself of what an awful person he truly is, you can’t.

There’s a traitorous part of your heart and soul that still longs for Kita, no matter the truth.

“It’s because I have a heart that I didn’t kill him.” Kita isn’t lying. The torture was for his pleasure, sure, but he knows how upset and inconsolable you would be if you felt like you were responsible for Goto’s death. The register of his voice lowers as he speaks again, though. His warning leaves you frozen in fear.

“If his filthy hands ever touch you again, I’ll kill him.” 

There are a litany of reasons why you find yourself in the position you’re currently in: wanting, waiting, whining for Kita. Fear, for one thing. You feel compelled to do whatever he wants, considering the sheer difference in strength and power between the two of you. But try as you might, it’s hard to ignore the tiny, nagging voice in your head that lulls you into a state of docile desire. Kita’s always taken care of you, right? You were in love with him, for fuck’s sake. And as you ride his fingers, content to wrap your warm, wet heat around three of his digits as he chuckles at your wanton display, that nagging voice reminds you that you still do — love him, that is. 

Three fingers buried deeply in the warmth of your cunt is enough to make you forget about the events leading up to tonight. He withdraws his fingers, much to your displeasure, and you whine out for him to continue with his ministrations before he shuts you up by forcing you to suck his thumb. You can feel the rough skin of his finger on your tongue, and you hollow your cheeks, treating this situation as if you were about to suck his cock, and your tongue laps at the pad of his thumb before he removes it from your mouth. 

Without any preamble, he’s back to burying his fingers into your pussy, his thumb — wet with your saliva — pressed firmly against your clit. 

“Do you wish it was my cock filin’ you up?” He grunts out, rubbing mercilessly against your clit as you continue to writhe against the bedsheets. Your cheeks feel warm, blood rushing up to your chest and face, and you bite down on your bottom lip, knowing your answer. A shameless, pitiful yes. 

“You’re so beautiful, so sweet, so kind.” In his world, kindness gets you killed. Kita’s no different from any other man in his line of work, and it’s why he’s ravaging you right now. Pumping his fingers in and out of your slick hole, making a mess of his fingers, of your pussy, of the bedsheets, of you. It’s why every time he brings you to your climax, you cum violently. You’re letting out a string of stuttered, fractured fucks mixed in with sharp intakes of breath and Shinsuke’s, and you buck your hips wildly against his fingers, pushing his digits even further in as you cum. 

With your mind hazy from pleasure, your brain scrambled from sleepiness and an intense orgasm, Kita wastes no time pouncing on you. There’s no chance for you to beg for him to wait, and you register that this must be your punishment.

Shinsuke is going to fuck you without any of his normal restraint.

He slides in your sopping wet cunt in one sharp thrust, burying his thick cock deep into your warm, snug hole. He likes having a routine, he likes having set boundaries and rules, he likes being a man of practicality. But right now, he’s fucking you like a wild beast. All you can do is just take it; take his relentless thrusts, his anger, his need to dominate you, to remind you who you belong to. 

“Open up.” He demands, his voice rough and thick with desire. You comply; it’s so easy, considering that you haven’t been able to hold back a single moan as he has his way with you. He spits directly into your mouth, watching the way his saliva sits on the surface of your pink tongue. He doesn’t need to command you to swallow, because you do, savoring the taste of him.

He makes you look him in the eyes as he fucks into you relentlessly. One hand is gripping your hip, practically crushing you as he pounds into your pussy. You’re so fucking wet that the sounds of him moving in and out of your cunt are so lewd, so loud. The inescapable burn of pain and pleasure, the sensitivity of your cunt having to endure his insatiable lust, has you moaning like a bitch in heat. 

“Shin— Shinsuke! G-gonna cum!” You squeak out, and it only motivates Kita to double down. He holds up your legs, your limbs burning from the stretch as he continues to get rougher with his movements. You’re looking at him with a dazed, fucked out expression, and he has the audacity to let out a chuckle. 

“There’s my good girl.” He praises you, spitting into your open mouth once more. 

With your legs trembling and the foggy haze of pleasure clouding your head, you greedily, happily accept his praise. Your legs press tightly against his sides, and with his spit in your mouth and his cock drilling into you with even sharper movements than before, you cum. 

Kita lets out a grunt of approval as he finishes inside of you, a load of hot seed pouring deep inside of you as he keeps your legs folded, his hips pressed against yours, as if he wants to plug you up with his cum. He kisses your forehead that’s glistening with sweat from the heat of his body colliding with yours; it seems the two orgasms he wrung out of you have taken its toll on your body. You’re a pliant, fucked out little mess — his pliant, fucked out little mess. 

“Good girl.” He murmurs sweetly. “I love you so much.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to say it back. He just pulls out his cock a bit before thrusting back into you. This action causes you to let out another long, drawn out moan. He’s absolutely relentless, and as tired as you are, you realize that you don’t want him to stop.

(Pity that you’re not capable of speech at the moment.

Because you would have told him that you love him, too.)

[pruwinkle]

heizou modern au stuff :>

[diremoone]

yakuza! ryomen sukuna | hcs.

overdone trope with this man but here we go again lmao. i’m just writing little drabbles that pop up in my head atp to keep the inspiration going sobs… i need a gallon of coffee

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna, who’s been involved in yakuza bullshit since his last year of middle school, has a soft spot for you. Most people who went to school with you (who are also apart of his gang) two know that, and they know that unless they want to end up like the Zen’in named Naoya, they won’t fuck with you. You’re untouchable, and the second anyone starts rumors about you (everyone knows they were lies regardless because of your character), they’re moving schools within 48 hours.

Fuck ‘em.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna keeps you far away from his gang bullshit as he gets deeper into the darkness and you pull yourself farther away, into the light where he wants you to be. But he knows that even his little sunshine is capable of being mean like him, but it’s tucked away for those that warrant your wrath.

He thinks fondly back to the time you knocked out a couple girls cold with a volleyball for picking on Miwa.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who swears his hands aren’t stained red whenever they’re holding your hands. Whenever he’s with you, he feels nothing like how his gang makes him feel—he feels normal, like that part of him doesn’t exist. And inside the walls of your home, it doesn’t. To you, in those shared moments, he’s just the nice boy you helped get through middle and high school and grew feelings for.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who buys you pretty things with money that isn’t gotten by bloodshed… as much as possible anyway. You aren’t ignorant to where the money comes from, but you’ve done your best to make your wishes clear. And Sukuna abides by them as much as possible.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who has his younger cousin Choso posted as your personal bodyguard whenever you go out, even when it’s just to do some simple grocery shopping. He isn’t taking any chances, this you’ve been made aware of and have accepted. And you’re fine with it, too, considering you grew up with Choso.

But what you don’t know is that there’s already been multiple attempts on your life and your safety. Sukuna isn’t having it.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who gets fed up when you’re on your third date within four months. What pisses him off is that he can’t tell if you’re enjoying the asshole’s time and company or not. But when he sees the man press a kiss to the back of your hand at the end of the date, jealousy rears its head.

The next night, he’s at your front door, dressed in leather and with a spare bike helmet under his left arm.

You answer in a hoodie and black sweatpants, confused and dazed until he says softly, “C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme show you how a man gives a woman a good time.”

Your confusion turns to amusement. “Was wondering when you were going to take me out. It’s about time.”

Sukuna grins and holds out his arm. “C’mon then.”

🖤 Yakuza Husband! Sukuna who ends up putting the ring on your finger two months after that date. You end up signing the papers long before the actual ceremony happens. And to Choso, Yuuji; and all the others that have witnessed your relationship from its first greeting to the ring on your finger, they can only sigh in relief because it’s about fucking time.

… Oh, shit.

Kids.

a/n: the rain and thunder while writing this was a big help lol. it’s been raining for two days now hehe

[normalfrances]

Sometimes I wonder how rough Majimas “mad dog” persona was in between Y0 and Y1, so I made a little design for him bc in Y0 they just put him straight into his 1995 look with no real transition and I feel like there should be one, if that makes sense. Maybe he’s too out of control when he first starts this. He’s too rash and doesn’t stop to think with a plan and that gets him (and his men) and trouble a lot

Design notes

- his hair is much messier and slightly longer than 1995 bc he cuts it himself (and he’s not all that good)

- he still only wears one chain and he has v-neck under the jacket

> this is both a movie reference and an implication that he’s really not found his look/persona yet

-the goatee is patchy and awkward. The facial hair combines with his eyebags makes him look older than he is (under 30)

This is just an idea I’m throwing around rn, if anyone wants to add on with their own ideas, feel free. I’m just having fun rn

[sukunastoy]

“I told you to stay away from her.”

Sukuna is about to bash someone’s kneecaps in.

And he doesn’t care about the begs of mercy.

[searenbound]

I've been watching a lot of yakuza romance anime recently, making me think about an arranged marriage au where Bakugou and the reader are from competing families who arranged them as part of a peace treaty.

[kunasthiast]

My God (1)

In the world of the Yakuzas, women are always on the sidelines and that's what you ought to change. But when your father chose Sukuna instead of you, that's when you know that you need to carve your own path.

But with Sukuna leading the family, how are you gonna get away? And, fuck the pterodactyls in your stomach!

I've always wanted to write a Yakuza!Au with Sukuna and I'm doing it now OTL I plan on making this as a series. This is different from 'Fortnight'. I will be updating this with a link to the masterpost of this au which will include its chapters, spin-offs, and drabbles in the future!

Updates will be once a week and since I'm excited about this, I might upload updates twice a week <333

Hope you'll enjoy this one ~

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + angst, Yakuza AU, Enemies to Lovers Word Count: 1,525 All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

next ->

The pouring rain outside has been the source of calmness for you. You’ve always loved the rain, the thundering clap of thunders, and the violent winds. It’s calming for you. As the rain cascaded down your bedroom window, you’re getting ready for the urgent meeting your father has arranged for tonight. 

He’s never arranged a meeting this late, you somberly thought. Knocks were heard from your door. 

“Come out now, darling. Everyone’s waiting.” It’s your father. 

“Coming!” You glanced one final look at your vanity mirror and stood up to shake off your dress. Walking towards the door, you sighed and couldn’t help but feel a pang of apprehension. This is nerve-wracking. 

You opened the door to find your father waiting for you. He never fails to give off his presence which commands respect, authority, and intimidation. 

Even in the privacy of your own home. His eyes softened by the slightest hint of weariness when he looked at you. His tall and imposing figure still left no room for doubt of power. He’s wearing his most expensive tailored suit, impeccably pressed despite the late hour. He has to, being the family boss of the clan. And you know this suit, you had it made for him as a gift for his 70th birthday. This made you smile a bit while looking down. 

“Let’s go.” He called with his voice carrying a note of urgency. Definitely matches the severity of the storm outside.

You nodded in response, steeling yourself for the impending meeting just beyond the corridor. Despite the facade of the intimidating and powerful aura he projected, there was the weight of responsibility that burdened him. You know it all too well. 

The unspoken sacrifices he made for the sake of his family and clan. Yet, you never felt who is his family. With the way things are and have been, all he did shaped your upbringing and eventually molded you into the formidable woman you had become.

With a deep breath, you followed him down the dimly lit corridor. Tumultuous thoughts swirled in your mind but everything’s getting rained down thanks to the comforting sound outside. 

—

Walking into the room, you saw everyone important in the clan. From your father to his assistant and lieutenants, with you as the only woman in the room. This meeting must be of utmost importance if all key figures of the clan are here. 

As your father walked towards his seat at the head of the table, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and nervousness. The tables are laid out with expensive tea cups and teapots for everyone. As your father sat down, your heartbeat quickened with the room growing quiet around you. You find yourself seated next to him at a reasonable distance, being just the one and only daughter of the boss.

Your father’s presence commanded respect, with his assistant and lieutenants expressing a mix of deference and readiness to hear whatever he had to say.

Scanning the room, you caught the eye of your father’s most trusted person, Sukuna. His right-hand man. The one who always does his bidding, from the legal side to the dirty side of everything. 

Sukuna always looks imposing with his piercing gaze and confident, intimidating demeanor. He’s scarier than father. His face tattoos compliment his tousled pink hair, which by the way makes him look sexier than ever. He’s wearing a white button-up with rolled-up sleeves, accentuating his muscles and some of his tattoos peeking through. 

You’ve always had a secret attraction towards him. The secret glances every time he’s in a room with you. The fucking pterodactyls with their intense fluttering in your stomach. Feeling your gaze upon him, he looked towards you with a smirk which made you shift your eyes toward your father as he began to talk.

“I’ve called you all for an important matter that needs urgent attention.” Hearing this made your heart pound with a tingling sensation to fidget your fingers, below the eyes of everyone but you. 

“It’s time for a new era.” Your father declared. “And I have chosen Sukuna to lead us into it.”

As your father’s words hung heavy in the air, a wave of shock rippled through the room, followed by the hushed silence and just the sound of rain. Suddenly, the rain doesn’t feel as calm anymore. It feels suffocating and unsettling. This is not the calm you’ve always loved.

What's more, you can’t believe everything your father just said. He’s chosen Sukuna to lead the clan into a new era. He passed over you, his own daughter, for the family succession.

A swarm of emotions swirled in your mind — disbelief, doubt, confusion, shock, anger, and a bitter sense of betrayal. How could your father overlook you, his direct heir, in favor of Sukuna? You furrow your eyebrows as you continue to process this news.

Across the room, Sukuna stood up from his seat with a calm demeanor and a tattooed smirk on his face that spoke volumes. He looked at everyone with intensity and his eyes gleamed with triumph, ending up meeting your gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. 

As everyone processed this new change, all key figures gave their respect and support to Sukuna. Amid the collective acknowledgment, you felt a profound sense of betrayal by your own father. Your dreams, the cornerstone of your existence crumbled like fragile glass under the weight of this revelation. 

From the fluttering pterodactyls in your stomach, a tide of anger surged through your veins, drowning out any semblance of affection towards Sukuna. And your deepest regards to your father, once a sturdy pillar of respect and trust, crumbled like ancient ruins replaced by a bitter taste of betrayal, doubt, and hurt.

Sukuna walked towards your father, who welcomed him with a tight hug. And as the storm raged outside, so did the storm within your heart.

Your father continued to speak, outlining his reasons why he chose Sukuna. You can’t hear anything anymore. The thundering claps and violent rain drown out everything. The room seemed to spin around you, the expensive tea cups and teapots on the table, all the lieutenants, your father, and Sukuna blurred into a haze as you grappled with what was happening.

This couldn’t be real.

—

As you retreated to the solace of your room, the events of this night continued to replay in your mind like a broken record. The fake smiles, the hollow congratulations, the sense of betrayal that hung heavy in the air – it was all too much to bear.

With trembling hands, you reached for the bottle of champagne you grabbed from the pantry earlier, the cool glass offering a welcome respite from the storm raging both outside and within. You walked towards your bathroom with the bottle.

Standing before the mirror, your reflection seemed to mock the turmoil raging within you. As you stared into your own eyes, the facade of composure you had worn for so long began to crumble, revealing the raw emotions simmering beneath the surface.

At that moment, you made a choice — to reject the false comforts of that alcohol or face the harsh reality of your situation head-on. With a determined flick of your wrist, you poured the champagne down the drain, soullessly watching the golden liquid disappear.

The weight of expectation had always rested heavily on your shoulders, a burden you bore with a mixture of pride and determination. As the family boss's only daughter, you had been groomed from a young age to inherit the mantle of leadership, carry on the legacy of your forefathers, and guide the family into a new era.

Your father had promised you that one day you would lead the family, that you would shatter the traditions that had long relegated women to the sidelines of power and influence. It was a dream he had instilled in you from the moment you were old enough to understand, a promise that had fueled your ambition and shaped your identity.

You had immersed yourself in every aspect of the family business, from the legal intricacies of corporate dealings to the ruthless strategies of the underworld. You had learned to navigate the murky waters of power and politics, to command respect and fear in equal measure.

But now, as you stood on the precipice of your destiny, that dream lay shattered at your feet. Your father's decision to pass over you in favor of Sukuna had blindsided you.

You couldn't understand how he could break his promise, how he could deny you the opportunity to fulfill your rightful destiny. The traditions that had long bound women to the sidelines of power seemed more entrenched than ever, casting a shadow over your hopes and aspirations.

“This is fucking bullshit! I won’t be cast aside like this,” you declare, facing the mirror with a steely resolve. You threw the empty bottle at the room with all the strength you could muster, the release of pent-up anger, frustration, all the emotions you felt tonight washing over you like a tidal wave.

Fuck it. Fuck Sukuna. Fuck father. Fuck everything.

[thejujvtsupost]

Collar Crimes Part 1 -> Ease A Heavy Soul

This is honestly just self indulgent, the requests I have left are more long form content and I have a section for that in the guidelines of my pinned, just keep that in mind if you haven’t seen yours come up yet. I gotta be able to feel it out before I give it a shot. Anyway think of this as an opener to a new little series <3

Notes: F!reader, yakuza!Geto, fluffy, reader is a sleepy type of gf & soft girl- think Sanrio/hello kitty aesthetic? heartwarming, no dialogue for this part, mention of violence(blood), Geto is so soft for his girl -> gets filthy in later parts.

The stress of being head of the Yakuza wasn’t foreign to Geto.

What was foreign, was coming back to his penthouse apartment to a girlfriend.

And his penthouse apartment was no longer his, it was your shared home. You were impossible to say no to, and now the place he furnished with top of the line luxuries and various other signs of wealth; was riddled with cutesy soft things.

The leather couch he spent an obscene amount of money on and had custom made for his living area? Covered in the softest pink blankets, fluffy pillows, several large stuffed animals that he thought you might like (you did). The bookshelves that once held “big fancy classics”, now sported knick knacks and some of your own college texts. The remotes had glow in the dark silicone covers on them, there was a new plush area rug… you were everywhere he looked.

His bed had even more of you, from more of your blankets to the scent of your perfume. You had a side of the bed, and a nightstand with its own lamp to match his.

There was even a nightlight plugged in on the far wall, fairy lights were tacked up by the headboard. No, of course you weren’t afraid of the dark, in fact maybe he’s the one afraid. He’s the one that bought a cute nightlight after all.

He bought it after the first time you spent the night at his place and he woke up to you huddled up in his bathroom with the overhead light on. He didn’t bring it up or chastise you, he simply brought you back to bed and cracked the bathroom door so it wasn’t so dark. The next night you slept over there was a bear and stars themed nightlight plugged in. Three more have joined the collection around the apartment since you officially moved in. That shitty apartment of yours had gotten broken into way too many times.

You were everywhere and he wouldn’t deny that you made everything feel okay. When he walked through the door he let through the gentle parts of his heart and gave every single one of them to you.

He loved it.

So yeah, he couldn’t deny you anything. Not when you were so perfect, loving and adorable in every way. And you were doing your very best as a college student, he was so proud of you. You studied so hard to get to where you are now.

(He just spoils you constantly and you’ve never actually asked him for anything.)

Coming home to you is a breath of fresh air.

Tonight was no different. He walked in, took off his shoes and jacket, and found you passed out on the couch- swallowed by your many soft blankets.

Oh his little songbird…

Turning off the tv and extra lights you left on, he was careful when he excavated your body from the pile of softness and picked you up to take you to bed. You didn’t want to let go of him when he tried setting you down though; he missed your hand clutching his shirt in your sleep.

So fucking cute…

Geto pried your fist away slowly and got you settled, then disappeared into the connected bathroom to wash the blood and grime from the day down the drain.

It’s not his blood of course.

You knew what he was, what he did; but he was the sweetest person (to you, you were the exception) you’d ever met. You didn’t ask questions when he came home covered in blood or was stuck ‘working’ all hours into the night. As long as he texted you when he could to give you a heads up it was good enough for you. It was better this way, you didn’t need details and he didn’t want to give them.

To him, that world has no business involving you. It had no business tainting the life you lived with him, safe in the comfort of your home.

Coming out in clean boxers to sleep in, he dropped his dirty clothes in the basket. Thats when you greeted him with a sleepy smile. You were sitting up and waiting for him to come to bed, excited to see him but still so tired.

Your smile was returned easily and he slid into bed, not a second of hesitation passed when he pulled you down close to him and kissed your lips, then head.

You took your rightful place, sleeping on his chest. Having the weight of your body pressed against his and your head over his heart eased his stress away in waves until he was as boneless and relaxed as you.

You were safe, both physically in your home and as a haven for him- the one person who was privy to his very soul.

• <- Index -> Next

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[skunaskitten]

Yakuza Husband ch1

Paring: sukuna x female reader

Contains: blood. flirting, threats, near death experience

Au: sukuna yukuza boss

Summary: After work you walked to you apartment but half way to your home you found a man injured. You decided to bring him home to stitch him up but what you did not realize of who he is.

  It was a long day at work but you enjoyed it. Working at an animal shelter as a vet tech you love seeing the animals. You were happy that some of the animals in your care had gotten adopted today and sent to loving homes. You hoped to see them again old and happy.

 When getting off the train and walking back to your apartment it was a  quiet walk but something in the air felt off. As you neared your home there was a dog that caught your eye standing in the front of an alleyway. 

 "Hey there pup you alright?" You got closer to the dog but it went down the alleyway. A grunt left you but it was your duty to save it and bring it with you to get checked tomorrow when you go in. You followed it seeing it standing sniffing a figure sitting on the ground leaning up against the wall. 

 You froze and your body went stiff just as the dog ran past you back out the alley way. "Hey wait, don't go." You turned to watch the dog leave then hearing a cough coming from the person made you snap your attention back to the figure.

 By the shape and size you could see the person is a male.

 "Are you alright sir?" 

You took out your phone shining the  light on him and gasped seeing the red liquid covering his hand and all over his black shirt that looked wet and stained darker. Seeing the rip across the front of the shirt where it was more blood around the hand covering his stomach.

 You crouched down to his level seeing a broken phone next to him. "I am going to call for help."

 As you opened your phone to call for help his hand wrapped around your wrist stopping you. 

"Don't call. Just. Leave."

 His voice sounds deep and hoarse. "Do you have family or someone I can call?"

 He lifted his face to look at you. As you caught a glimpse of the right side of his face. Burised and eye swollen with a busted lip. You couldn't just leave him here. He watched you open up your backpack pulling out a sweater and placing it over his stomach. 

 "Here keep this against the wound. I am going to bring you to my place. Do you think you can walk?"

 He grunted, saying "just leave me."

You sighed and took his bloody hand not caring if you got blood on yourself. He is in need and wounded just like animals you could not walk away from a person in his condition. 

 You tried to pull him to you to get him up all he did was gave a deep chuckle. It sent chills through you as he tried to step up, almost falling over letting out a groan of pain. He looked like he had enough strength to walk but you still stayed by his side under his heavy arm for support. Even if it did very little and it was all him doing the work.

 It was a long slow walk to your home but when you made it inside he saw that he was safe inside he just wanted to collapse. You felt him growing weak as you panic and quickly brought him to the couch pushing him down onto it. He let out a loud groan of pain.

"Sorry. Stay here. Don't move."

 You ran into the bathroom grabbing all the medical supplies you needed and came back out to the living room placing the supplies on a coffee table. As you displayed the stuff you needed you leaned over him getting a good look at his face. Seeing the black lined tattoos along his jaw leading up to eyes under his real ones giving the same color and the messy dirt stained pastel pink hair.

 His one open dark red eye looking straight through your soul. You gulped and tried to ignore it as you reached shaky hands to unbutton his shirt.

 "I need to take this off." You grabbed the shirt opening it up as he laid his head to the side. "Hey I need you to stay awake."

 "Just hurry up, and do it." He snapped at you.

 You ignored him but when you opened his shirt you saw the colored tattoos covering his entire chest. You noticed black sharp lines across his pecs. Around those lines were blue and purple flames with wine colored demonic looking fingers. Ten of them on each slab of muscle. Your eyes trailed across his chest to his shoulders noticing more ink being hidden under the sleeves of his shirt.

 When your eyes trailed down you saw the open wound across his stomach right above his navel. Your mind went into emergency mode and started to assemble the cotton pad to clean up the area of his skin. 

 After everything was clean the wound seemed like it was not to deep where you needed to take him to the hospital. You ran into the kitchen to wash the blood off your hands and grabbed a ice pack from the freezer to bring it over to him.

 "Here this will help with your face. What is your name?"

 You asked as you carefully placed the ice pack against his face making him rest on it. He kept his eyes closed saying "sukuna."

 His voice sounded worse, more drained and groggy. You had to do this fast so he can rest. You gave a slight smile to his name. It's different and interesting. "My name is y/n."

 You went back to the supplies and started to thread the needle then came back to his wound. "This might hurt." 

"I can, take it."

 When you punctured his skin he grunted and nuzzled his face into the ice pack. It was a quick 15 minute stitch up but it felt longer. You gave one last clean up to his wound, putting antibiotics and a patch to cover it up.

 You smiled saying ,"there it should be good for now. Just not moving for a while you will break it."

 He didn't answer then you looked to see he was already asleep. It was best to let him rest and check on him in the morning. After cleaning up the mess, you went through the hall way storage closet and pulled out a blanket to put over him. 

 You stared at his face a bit longer seeing how strange it was for him to look so peaceful sleeping with blood on his face. And why the color of his hair being pink? 

 After seeing the tattoos across his chest you wanted to see the rest of them. Already having the feeling he is a man who likes to get into trouble. 

 You felt your stomach ache and hearing it rumble it was past your dinner time since you usually eat when you get home but he had to be taken care of first. You made a quick ramen bowl and checked on sukuna every minute just to make sure he is still alive.

 When you went to bed you made sure to lock your door in case something happens since he is still a stranger. You had already informed your boss that you couldn't make it due to a family emergency. So this gives you time to look after sukuna.

 In the morning you got up getting dressed and quietly opened your door peaking your head out to hear anything. There was no movement so  you stepped out carefully and walked out to the living still seeing him asleep.

 You walked over to his sleeping form then pressed the back of your hand to his forehead checking the temperature. He felt warmer than he did last night.

 Looking at the ice pack that is fully melted you pulled it out from under his head then softly ran your thumb over the bruising on his face. You had also noticed the black piercings on his ears.

 You took a deep breath and caught a smell of the blood that still stained his clothes. He didn't smell the best right now. You wanted to almost take off the shirt but it was going to be difficult, it would be best to start by replacing the bandage again since either absorbed most of the blood.

 As you pulled off the blanket and started with the bandage from his stomach he jolted awake and grabbed your wrist with a harsh squeeze. You yelp from being startled but then he let you go placing his hand over his stomach with a growl and a grunt from pain. 

 "Damn it sukuna it's just me. Don't break your stitching."

 You put a hand down on his chest and pushed him back down. He looked at you with still tired drained eyes, it looked like he wanted to talk back but he was still not fully recovered. 

Sukuna kept his eyes on you changing the bandage then saw you grabbing at his shirt. 

"I want to take your shirt off, it's full of your blood and dirt. It's starting to stink."

 He groaned and let you take it off him with the help of him moving his body to make it easier for you to take it off. As you peeled off his shirt you could see more tattoos covering his arms. You couldn't help but to look at the artwork of beautiful colors and line work. Whoever did his tattoos did an amazing job.

 His left arm was full of plant life. Cherry blossom trees that crept up his bicep around his forearm were red spider lilies and under them was a lotus. The other arm had an eastern dragon around the bicep and a tiger on the forearm. On both wrists he had black bands and black circles on the edge of his shoulders. 

Your eyes gazed away and looked at his pants then back at him. "I uhh need to take off your pants too."

 He gave you a weak smile and said "if you wanted my cock you could have just ask. It might help with my pain."

 A blush filled your cheeks and you began to stutter. "No, that is not what I wanted. I need your pants off. They are dirty." He chuckle slightly and laid his head back as you went to unbuckle the front. Your hands were shaking after he made you all flustered and embarrassed but he lifted his hips to help you slide off his pants easier. 

 Sukuna quickly went back to sleep to get more rest. He was still feeling groggy. You put the blanket over him then went to get some cereal and hid in your room to give him some peace. When you came back out hours later you walked over to see sukuna with his eyes open. You gave him a smile and said "hey you awake now. How are you feeling?"

 He said "I am feeling hungry and drained." You nodded asking "how hungry?" 

"Hungry enough to eat you." He chuckled then started coughing. 

You blushed and started to find words to respond to but then you stepped back hitting the table with the back of your knee. You stumbled a little and sukuna was quick to sit up and grab your wrist holding you from falling. 

You made eye contact with him then pulled your wrist away saying "thank you I will go find you food."

 Sukuna looked over at you watching you walk around the kitchen making what seemed to be a sandwich. He wondered if you knew who he really was. What were your plans with him?

 When he saw you turn around with a plate he looked away. You made your way over to him and set a plate with the sandwich on it and handed it to him. "Here let me know if you need anything else and also brought you some tea that might help with the aches." He looked at the food and drink then back to you.

 "Eat some of it. And take a drink."

You raised an eyebrow then looked at him confused saying "what?"

 "You heard me sweetheart eat, drink."

You picked up the sandwich taking a bite looking at him still confused, after swallowing the bite you took a drink of the tea then looked at him. He sat up more and took the food and started to eat it. You just gave him another weird look and left him to eat alone. So many questions ran through your head.

 Hearing your phone notification go off you looked at it to see your friend wondering if you are alright. You texted her 'yes I am fine just something happened and now I have to figure out what to do with him.' You messed up by saying the word to him and she quickly texted back. 'Oh you are seeing a guy. Who is he? What does he look like?'

 'Pretty handsome. Pink hair. Tattoos covering his arms chest and possibly the back. I found him in a alleyway with a stab wound. I had to fix him up but he said to not call anyone.'

 She answered back right away. 'What do you mean?! You found him and just brought him home with a stab wound. Red flag girl! And he has tattoos telling you not to call anyone. You know what they say about Japanese men with tattoos right. Yukuza!'

 You scoffed at the idea and told her you were going to check backup on him and you will talk to her later. When you went back out to the living room you saw him sitting up fully on the couch with the empty plate and glass. "Do you want more?"

 "No this should be good for now but I feel my energy back again for the most part."

Hearing his deep voice your eyes roamed over his body again then quickly looked away when you saw his eyes staring at you. You walked over taking the dishes from him then walked towards the kitchen but stopped curious to say something to him.

 "Hey sukuna are you in the yukuza? My friend just stated it because I mentioned your tattoos and how I found you. I think it's crazy though. I don't think I would ever come across one. Your tattoos are lovely though." You let out a little giggle.

 But then you felt the air in the room stir into something dangerous then you heard him darkly chuckle and a click sound coming from behind you. When you turned to look at him you dropped the dishes hearing them break and shatter across the floor.

 Sukuna was standing up and had his back to you while looking at a black gun in his hand with a golden design through the side of it but you couldn't make out what it was. Your whole world froze and your heart stopped. His back was cover in a full art piece. A four arms demon with four eyes and pink hair. It was supposed to be resentation of himself crawling out of a mouth to a shrine with ox skulls on his lower back.

 He turned around walking to you, opening up his gun looking at the bullets and slipped the clip back into it. 

"You know one thing I hate about the people around me, little woman. Is that you can never let your guard down because you can not trust anyone. It's a shame that even the sweetest of things need to die."

 You gulped freezing in place and began to tear up as he walked up straight to you. So much fear in your body makes you stay still only because you feel if you run he might shoot. He pressed the tip of the gun to your neck. Your eyes closed, a tear ran down your cheek waiting for him to take your life. Is this what you get from the world for helping someone? 

A whimper escaped you as he chuckled and leaned in closer, pressing his lips to your ear. "No words for me, kitten."

 "Your stitches are bleeding."

 He raised an eyebrow and took a look down to his stomach. You took a look at him and made your chance to run but he was too fast and smart as he grabbed your arm pulling you. In the process you stepped on the shards of glass letting out a cry of pain. 

 "Where you think you are going little things."

 He pulled you with him and pushed you onto the couch holding the gun up to you. You looked into his eyes as tears filled you, making your vision blurry and whimpers escaping you. "Will it hurt?"

 Sukuna tiltled his head saying "the bullet? Only of I shoot in a spot that does not kill you fast."

 You started to breathe hard with tears rolling down your cheeks. Staring into his eyes waiting for it to happen when he would be the last thing you see. His hand gripped onto your shoulder holding you down with the gun pressing under your jaw. You couldn't hold back any more and started to sob and cry louder. "S sukuna...." Feeling the cold metal tip of the gun against your skin you tried to plead with him.

 He stared at you but his heart started to feel heavy, memories flashed before him. A woman on her knees before him with his hand around her throat and gun to her head. She pleaded to him crying and sobbing but he just pulled the trigger doing what he was told. Then hearing a baby cry. Remembering the little baby boy she had, he was left motherless. 

 Sukuna let go of your shoulder asking "do you have a child or pregnant?" 

You shook your head still crying.

"Do you have a family?"

You shook your head. Still stuttering as you talked.

"I have… no one. I am alone… my parents both died. No lover.."

 He pulled the gun away from your face and moved away. As soon as you felt him release you took that chance to crawl away from him seeing the blood from your foot staining the couch. But he still hovered around you then brought the gun up again to you saying "where is your phone? Bring it to me."

 You did what you were told but you limped off the couch and walked slowly in pain to your room with him following you. He saw the phone on your bed and quickly took it holding it in his free hand. 

 You couldn't take it any more as you just got down on the floor and crawled back against the wall of your room. He watched as you cradled your legs turning yourself into a ball crying from fear trying to hide from him. 

 Sukuna let out a sigh. "Where the hell is your first aid kit?" 

You didn't answer as you started to shake. So he asked again more stern tone to his voice.

"Where the fuck is your first aid kit? I am not asking again."

 "In the bathroom."

You mumbled and heard him leave the room for a moment but you didn't bother moving from your position not wanting to get shot.

 He walked into the bathroom and the first this he saw was his clothes. With a brush and hydrogen peroxide to remove the blood stains. You really went through all this trouble to bring him here into your home. A complete stranger and fixed him up. Made sure he was well, fed him and washed his pants. 

 He took the pants and put them on and slipped his gun in the back of them along with your phone into the pocket then found the kit. Sukuna came back to see you still in the same spot shaking but stopped crying for now.

When he crouched down in front of you and went to brush his fingers across your ankle you froze up and started to cry again. You looked at his lip quivering and tried to move away from him. 

 "Please don't hurt me. I won't tell anyone. Please just leave."

 He gripped your leg and ran his hand up your calf and pulled your leg to him with your wounded foot. You whimpered in fear and tried to pull away. Thinking the worst.

 "Dont please! I rather be dead."

 He stopped and looked at you realizing why you were freaking out. 

 "Would you stop your fucking crying. I am not going to assault you if that is what you are implying. Let me look at your foot."

 You covered your face trying to calm yourself as you let him take your leg extending it out. You hear the shuffling of the kit and feeling him move with your foot on his lap. But you didn't dare to move a muscle until he went to pull a piece of glass out. You let out a yelp and placed your hands flat on the floor.

 "Quit being a child."

 He continued to pull out the glass he could see then he poured on the rubbing alcohol across the wounds. You whimpered and tried to pull your foot away but he grabbed it, yanking it back. "Damn it, stop squirming!"

 "It hurts and you are doing it wrong! Why are they even bothering with me?! Just leave me alone!"

 Sukuna laid him head back and growled then looked back at you.

 "A favor for a favor. You helped me so I am helping you. Besides, by my code you did save my life. So I am in your debt."

 He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and closed his eyes.

"I am sorry. For threatening you. And scaring you. It's just hard for me to trust anyone. You probably know who I am now."

 You just chewed on your inner cheek not wanting to talk as you suck in a breath trying to calm yourself but knowing he has a loaded weapon made you all the nervous to even say a word to him.

 The both of you heard your phone chime. Sukuna reached behind him and pulled out your phone seeing the text in the lock screen 'is he hot?'

" Who is this little kitten?"

 "My friend from work." He handed you over the phone saying "unlock it."

 You then gave your phone back and he texted your friend back 'yes he is really hot don't worry he is taking care of me.' He texted her making it sound like it was you.

 He closed it then stuck it back into his pocket hearing more notifications go off as you questioned what he did. But he ignored you and went back to tormenting your foot. After he cleaned the wound he wrapped a bandage around your foot and dropped your leg onto the floor. 

 "There its done."

You looked at the wrapping and said "thank you. So you are in the yukuza."

 You rubbed your hand over your cheeks wiping what dry tears that remained as he hummed.

 "Yes I am. I promise to not make any threats to you again. Like I said I am in your debt. Until my part is filled you will no longer see me again. But for now I need to stay here for a few days until I am fully healed and the ones who did this,stop looking for me."

 "You want me to keep you here after you just did all that! No. I am sorry but no you need to leave."

Sukuna groaned and bowed his head as a sign of thanks to you saying "I am sorry,  truly. I need to stay here. Just so you know I never say sorry to anyone."

You made eye contact with him debating if you should let him stay and if you were even safe.

"I can tell you are debating. You have my word. I won't hurt you." 

You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh saying "fine I will let you stay. But its my home so my rules." He confirmed with a nod of his head and got up holding out his hand to you as you took it and got up onto your feet with us help.

You thanked him for finding your strength again but you still worried what he can do to you when the guard is down. Without another word you walked away from him with a limp as he followed behind you and watched you head to a hall closet pulling out another blanket.

"Here so you can be more comfortable. And I will figure out what to do with clothes for you later. I am going to bed."

He watched you walk away back into your room, slamming the door closed as he stood there holding the blanket. He never let anyone walk away from him like that, not without him having the last word in. But he will let you relax for the night. He needs his rest too.

what is going to happen between them?!

thank you so much for reading the first chapter! And i am so in love with the picture i can not stop gawking at sukuna.

ch1 Chapter 2

[mullermilkshake]

Satoru gets back late

MINORS DNI - Tags: Yakuza AU, Fluff

Satoru huffed the long day away.

The traffic away from Ryomen headquarters was stifling, a sea of red car lights in tandem with each other as though the world just knew that Satoru was trying to come to see you.

He trudged out of the elevator and made his way down the hall to your front door. It wasn't unusual for Satoru to let himself in seeming as he had his own key.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Doll," he opened the door looking down at his feet just as low as he felt. "I got called into an emergency meeting that I couldn’t get out of. My boss is an asshole.”

You said nothing, he noticed you standing right there in the hallway by the living area with a look on your face.

“What?”

A raised brow should have told Satoru everything he needed to know, but he was an idiot right now.

"What's wrong?"

Taking three steps towards him, your eyes darted around at his neck. “Have you been fighting again?”

“Huh?" holy shit how did you find that out with one glance? "No… No course not, baby.”

The glare you gave him was one that screamed 'don't take me for an idiot, Satoru Gojo.'

“There’s blood on your collar.”

Shit.

"Uh..." quick fucking think of something.

The thing was, you knew Satoru's position in the Yakuza, you just didn't approve of it. And yes, you got into a committed relationship with him knowing this, but that didn't stop you from voicing your concerns every now and then.

"Be honest with me, Satoru. How did that blood get there, because I know it wasn't a cut from shaving."

"Shit. I can't lie to you," Satoru slumped and leant against the closed front door, the guilt of even trying to hide anything sank like concrete.

"I can't stop you from doing what you're doing, but I care about your well-being. This fighting isn't healthy. What if-" you stopped yourself and bite down on your lower lip.

"I'm not gonna get injured if that's what you're thinkin' about, Doll."

"You don't know that. You just don't," shaking your head solidified that fact.

Satoru didn't know, however he adopted the whole live fast die young gig long before he ever met you, way before he even joined the Yakuza. It was just how Satoru operated.

Still, your large welling eyes stopped Satoru right where he was. "I'm sorry."

What else could he say right now that wasn't going to make you cry further? Nothing really, so he came over and pulled you close to him.

Maybe he could tone it down a bit, try this stupid method Sukuna suggested at the meeting and gather intel before smashing skulls. It just wasn't as fun though, was it?

However Captain Yaga would be back soon and then Satoru really would have to behave.

"How can I make it up to you?"

Looking up at him, he could see how red your eyes actually were. "It's not about making up, Satoru. It's promising to take care of yourself."

He nodded without hesitation. "Alright, I promise."

In honesty, you were the perfect person to balance out his pointed edges. And despite how far he wanted to go with people sometimes, most of the time it was only really you he wanted to impress and keep happy.

Everyone else could suck it.

[wttcsms]

angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k  synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes. 

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They���re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi. 

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked. 

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away. 

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now? 

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that?  I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” 

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

[pruwinkle]

yakuza gang leader kazuha...

[burfbannd0g]

white snake with a bloody belly. yakuza au

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Yakuza x Cinderella AU Part 1 (Sukuna x Reader)

A/N: I listened to Sukuna’s Russian voice dub while writing this. Gave me some cool gangster vibes.

Everyone would have understood if you shed the “Itadori” name after old man Wasuke passed away, and no one would have blamed you if you walked away from being Yuuji Itadori’s legal guardian. After all, you just started college, you didn’t need to be “burdened,” especially by a kid you weren’t even related to.

But there was no way you could leave eleven-year-old Yuuji alone. You grew up changing his diapers, taught him how to ride a bike, cleaned up his boo-boos, and threatened his bullies. 

He was your family.

Prioritizing your baby brother and his future above your own, you decided to bartender at a fancy but sleazy bar. Although the majority of patrons were assholes and the place was too far from your house and the university, the pay was better than most other part-time jobs so you sucked it up.

Between your job, mandatory onsite classes, group assignments with lazy jerks, and taking care of Yuuji and the house, you could never afford to sleep for more than three hours a day. 

But Yuuji was, of course, an angel. 

He didn’t like to show it, but you knew he missed gramps, and you often caught him biting his lip to suppress his whimpers and wiping his eyes with his back turned to you. He did his best to appear strong, but you wished he’d rely on you more. But the little tiger never stopped doing his chores and liked offering to do yours.

“I can’t get a part-time job yet so all I can do is take care of the house and everything else!” When he said that, you swore an arrow pierced your heart and you almost died from fluffiness. 

Seeing Yuji’s bright smile was the only thing that kept you going, especially after a long day at the bar.

That’s where you met Ryomen Sukuna. He was the single most irritating bastard you’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. It wasn’t like he was a sleazebag per se–he was actually more of a silent, brooding type compared to the handsy, foul-mouthed drunkards you usually dealt with. At least, that was your first expression of him.

It was nine pm and your five minute break was almost over so you sent Yuji a good night text and a reminder to lock the doors and windows. You brushed your hair and went to your post behind the bar. 

This place was in the inner city, far from most schools, so it was rare to find college students here, but it was a Friday and the end of finals week so the place was jam-packed with depressed people. You didn’t mind. Actually, you preferred having a bar full of university kids over a bar full of working adults. You liked college students. They were… nicer, more polite and patient compared to their older counterparts, who were usually middle-aged career men and women whose dreams have been shattered by the real world. Your regulars were broken and pathetic, and they often liked making their problem yours. You’d “listen” to their ramblings, nod and pretend to care, when in reality their words just went in one ear and left straight out the other.

You didn’t like talking or socializing. You left that part up to the waitstaff and prepared the drinks as quietly as possible in order to avoid trouble.  

It was nearing one am, almost time for you to go home. You finished wiping the last piece of glassware when the store bell rang. You didn’t bother to even pretend to be polite this time and continued cleaning up, waiting for one of the waiters to tell the guest that the bar was already closed. But that didn’t happen. 

“The VIP room is a little unclean right now, so if you’re willing to wait–”

“What do you mean unclean? You should always keep it ready,” a cold, androgynous voice reprimanded.

You were annoyed. And a bit confused. You’ve been here for several weeks now and you just found out about this so-called VIP room. And up until now, the personnel here always shooed away all customers during closing. 

“It’s fine, Uraume,” a deep, husky voice interrupted. “I’m fine waiting here. Just get me my drink.”

You raised your eyes and saw a tall man in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bringing attention to his… big veiny hands and sinewy arms, lined with black tattoos. 

“O-of course!” Your boss clasped her hands together. “Please excuse me, I’ll get the sake ready in a bit.”

As if sensing your gaze, your tall, red-haired stranger turned his head, revealing a face also full of tattoos. You blushed but composed yourself and bowed in greeting. You refused to make eye contact again though, too embarrassed that you were caught ogling. He was more gorgeous than most idols and sports players that showed up on TV.

“On second thought, I think I’ll sit at the bar.”

Ah, crap. 

“Oh, um…!” Your boss fumbled towards you, putting a hand over your shoulder. “Th-this is Y/N. She’s new. Really new, I don’t think you’ve met yet.” It felt odd watching your usually calm and charming boss act like this. She was the one who dealt with perverts and other difficult clients, all without getting too emotional or stuttering, but she seemed almost afraid of this man. “Y/N, this is Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, he owns this bar.”

That name certainly felt familiar, but you sucked at names, and as for his face… you glanced up at his smirking face. Yeah, there was no way you’d forget a guy like him. Even if you just saw him walking down the street for a split second you would remember him for sure. 

Your boss squeezed you and you quickly bowed your head again. “Um, hello, thank you for the opportunity.”

“You seemed irritated when my companion and I walked in.” 

“No, you must be mistaken.”

“Really? You couldn’t even be bothered to greet us. Bartenders are supposed to be friendly.”

You just tilted your head, contemplating on what to say next when your phone started ringing from the counter. Mr. Sukuna swiped it before you could blink. 

“Hey!” Your sudden burst of energy shocked you and your boss. You slapped a hand over your mouth. “Er. I mean… I apologize.” 

“Shouldn’t phones be on vibrate during work hours?”

“It was on vibrate. We’re supposed to be closed now.” Welp. You were already as good as fired so you didn’t try to cover up your weariness. Yuji sometimes woke up randomly in the middle of the night. He was probably wondering where you were. You held out your hand. “Can I please have it back now? Sir?”

Like you just told the world’s funniest joke, he threw his head back, laughing heartily. 

Despite your boss almost fainting on the spot thanks to your little stunt, you didn’t get fired. Sukuna seemed absolutely smitten with you–that is, as much as an owner can be smitten by a pet hamster. 

It was the beginning of an irritating, one-sided relationship. 

Ever since that day, Sukuna began frequenting the bar more often. Sometimes three times a week, other times almost daily. Rather than stay at the VIP room, he’d hang out by the bar and find many ways to piss you off, like hitting on you, annoying you until you talked about either Yuji or your classes, and asking you to make some complicated cocktail he heard from a business partner, only to then insult it (he’d always finish the thing though). At the very least, he didn’t try touching you inappropriately. And plus, his childish fascination with you meant he demanded you hang out with him immediately after you finished preparing someone else’s drink, so you didn’t have to listen to other people whine about their lives and you didn’t have to make up excuses with the more gropey customers.

To be continued…