#yakuza nanami

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

𝙺𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒

✿ 𝓡𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪 ✿

𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

Pairing: Yakuza!Nanami Kento x Geisha!Reader

Genre: MafiaAU, GeishaAU

Word Count: 3124

Warnings: mentions of blood and killing. Its a mafia au what do you expect. No smut, fluff if you squint.

Summary: You've just started your life as a full fledged geiko and one evening with a man you meet might just change your life.

A/N: I wrote this as a seperate fic for a friend for her birthday and liked it so much I waned to make a Nanamin version so here y'all go! :)

Part One

You sat at the table, your elder sister diagonally opposite you as she laughed and entertained one of the most respected and well-known gokudo leaders in Kyushu. A sharp man who regularly travelled down to Kyoto to sit with her and drink tea that she didn’t even brew, only poured into a cup for him. If only you could be like that; gain a danna so young and attentive and not to mention, a treat for the eyes. 

The kimono you had been made to wear for tonight had special motifs on it. It had been gifted to the geisha house by a man – who if the hushed whispers circulating the hanamachi were to be trusted – more dangerous than the head of the gokudo himself. Not someone to be trifled with. Stories of his exploits – single-handedly taking down a small army sent by the National Police Agency; slitting the throats of young and foolish kobuns who sold the family secrets to make a quick buck; and being a life-risking loyal dog to his Aniki – had already been spread among your sisters like hot oden selling out on a cold winter evening. You had listened to all these and soaked in the knowledge. Knowledge that now came flashing up into your mind as you carefully poured out the hot tea, just as you had been taught and served it to your kimono gifter and his dark-haired friend. Your kimono, a pale blue silk, artfully decorated by the white camellia that flashed in the light of the lamps. 

You thought back wondering why you of all people may have been chosen to entertain this very esteemed guest. Sure, your dance was good, but it wasn’t that it stood out beside your sisters. You could play the shamisen relatively well, but not like the masters did. Why had you been chosen, fresh out of your training period having just had your mizuage… 

The only conclusion wracking your brain could lead you to was that perhaps it was because you, of all the maikos and geikos around you, were able to refrain from spreading the circulating rumours. Partake you did – but only so much as to listen…

Thankfully your sister had done most of the talking, leaving you to smile and pour the tea and ponder the meaning of what your Okasan had said earlier when she had come with the younger girl Hana to help you wear your make-up and jewellery. 

The cool wet brush that painted your skin white, helped calm your nerves and when you looked in the mirror, you barely recognised the beautiful woman staring back at you with her blood-red lips and darkened lashes. As she had been painting, Hana had looked like she wanted desperately to ask you something but a sharp glare from Okasan quieted her eagerness; she continued to help pick out appropriate jewellery for your new kimono. 

When she was happy with how you looked, Okasan made you stand and turn once so she could see all of you. An approving nod and then a sigh, “A white camellia, I see. Who knows what these men think…” 

***

The pressure you felt to be perfect was unbearably high, and you were glad to have your elder sister there to help ease you into the conversation. There had been times that you had gone to the tea house before, but it was only to watch from behind the screen and learn from your elder sister; one of the most sought-after geisha in Kyoto. You had admired her smooth movements and the grace with which she carried herself – entranced by her much like the men she was there to entertain. This time, however, it was you dancing and entrancing while she played the music. 

The men you had been called to spend this evening with had already been seated at a large square table. There were four of them. Geto-san of course whose eyes kept getting drawn back to your oneesan. It was always her company he valued more than that of any other geisha in the karyūka. To his right sat the aptly nicknamed right-hand man, Gojo-san. These two men you knew; were acquainted with even, but opposite to Geto and Gojo were two new men whom you were seeing for the first time. A tall man with a  large hooked nose and tired eyes that seemed to carry the weight of the world, faced Geto. And between them a man with soft blonde hair and warm brown eyes. 

As the night went on, you poured tea, giving way to pouring sake, and batted your lashes smiling with a practised ease. You couldn’t help but notice that the man beside you was drawn to you much in the way that Geto-san was drawn to your oneesan. He had been introduced to the two of you as Nanami Kento-san. And the taller, to your other side, Higuruma Hiromi-san. “Part of my organisation.” as Geto-san had put it. They were, no doubt, as close to him as Gojo-san was. 

You felt those brown eyes on you as you poured the warm sake. Specifically on the stripes of bare skin left unpainted on the nape of your neck. Upon tuning – to hand Nanami-san the cup – you confirmed. It hadn’t been your imagination. He had been looking. A keen gaze that now pierced your eyes. An odd feeling in your stomach, made you blush and look away. 

Geto-san’s voice suddenly pierced your reverie! “Kento-kun seems to have taken a liking to you my young geiko!” there was a smile in his voice that translated to his face too. 

You look at him confused. What did he mean? You had just met! You looked at the man, a soft smile on your face, and hoped he would give you an explanation but he simply looked away, now turning beet red. You felt your cheeks heat up as well and looked down at your lap, focusing on the white camellia on the pale blue of your kimono. 

Your oneesan laughed. “Don’t tease her Suguru-san! She’s still quite green!” You felt your face burn. What she said was true but you wished she wasn't telling him about it either way. 

“Do you know what the white camellia means?” asked a tipsy Higuruma-san from the other side of you. You shook your head. No. You didn’t… Even though it evidently was apparent to all others who saw it. 

“Yearning. It signifies yearning!” drawled Geto-san from the other side of the table chuckling. Seemed like the man had been poured quite a bit of sake already. Thankfully your sister chose this moment to intervene and promote your dancing to him which in turn had you getting up and away from the table while oneesan presented her shamisen and played and sang so you could dance. 

When the night came to a close you still hadn’t quite understood what everything had meant and yet the fatigue pulled you under, helping you sleep quickly and without time to think long upon the night’s events… 

“You have been requested for an evening out by Nanami-san!” Okasan squealed, barely hiding her happiness. Your jaw dropped open. It had been a few days since you had spent the evening entertaining the four men of the gokudo with your sister. The events of that day had stuck with you as you kept wondering what Geto-san had meant when he said “Kento-kun” had taken a liking to you. Okasan continued, “He has sent another kimono for you. It seems he has taken a liking to you!” 

There it was again. “A liking to me? Already? What does it mean, Okasan?” You inquired.

“It means your training has been going well.” and that was all the elder lady offered. 

You thought about it as your kimono was tied for you. This time, a soft sakura blossom pink all down to the feet where it deepend into a darker shade. The sleeves showed two rabbits bounding along playfully. 

“Oh look, it’s devotion and intelligence this time,” Okasan joked. “This man and his kimono choices…” 

You could not fathom why Nanmi Kento had such fondness toward you when you had not even met him before… Perhaps tonight, you could weasel the truth from him without it being too forward of you.

The tea house was bustling, you had been shown to a private room where Nanami-san waited. Although you were fresh out of your apprenticeship, he’d chosen you alone to accompany him for the evening, and you felt a nervousness upon entering. The Okiya rarely allowed geiko to entertain alone, such a luxury was reserved only for very respected customers, who of course, also had adequate coin. 

You were equipped with your shamisen, in case he wished for music, but if he asked you to dance you would have to ask one of the staff at the tea house to step in and play for you. However, Nanami-san did neither. He only asked you to drink tea with him. You made sure that his cup stayed full, as you were trained. Along with the tea, Nanami-san ordered all sorts of wagashi. He only really spoke to tell you, “Here, eat some more of this.” or “Try the dango. It’s delicious.” in his warm baritone. There still hadn’t been an opportune moment for your question however, and this kept you feeling nervous. 

As the night deepened, the tea turned to warm sake. You refrained from drinking too much as was custom, but the alcohol loosened your benefactor's tongue and he began to talk. 

“I hope that you are enjoying this evening, Fukuhina-san.” You still weren’t used to being called by your chosen geiko name. Taking part of your oneesans name – Fukuhana – your new name was supposed to give off the appearance of how you were essentially a younger version of your oneesan. 

“I am…” your voice trailed off  as you wondered about the question that kept surfacing in your mind. You bowed your head to look at your lap not wanting to show the hesitation that was no doubt splayed on your face at the moment. 

Nanami-san frowned, "If anything was not to your satisfaction you can tell me you know... You deserve the best. Only the best…” 

There it was again. The strange – almost devotion that he seemed to have for you, coming up stronger now. His empty cup beckoned you so you took a moment to think while you poured more of the warm sake out for him. As the clear liquid overtook the cup you considered how best you could broach the question.

“Please do not worry, Nanami-san… Th- there was nothing that troubled me.” His admission of only wanting the best for you had you thinking further. 

He hummed, "Troubled you no... I want you to enjoy yourself.... With me." He turned his head to properly look at you... "That kimono looks beautiful with you in it."

“I am told you sent it as well. I must thank you for your generosity and commend your choice, Nanami-san.” 

You gather your courage and try again. “Nanami-san, I- forgive my impudence – but I must ask, What did Geto-san mean when he said that the other day. And Higuruma-san… pointing out the white camellia. And these rabbits… Okasan said they mean something – devotion and intelligence…?” Now that you had started, the questions poured out of you with no restraint. Almost everything you wanted to ask rushed out, but you quickly managed to cull the last one. Why are you being so nice when we have only just met each other? 

Despite the dimness of the light in the room you could see how the man’s cheeks heated in front of you. He took a swig of his drink, emptying the cup – you filled it again, only to have it downed promptly. When you went to pour more he covered it with his free hand, then set it down and turned to look at you. 

“Fukuhina-chan – may I call you that?” he continued after your nod. “Fukuhina-chan, there is a tale that is whispered among those of the gokudo, a tale that has spread all over Japan. There belongs to Geto Suguru, a tiger. A vicious creature that when it has sunk its teeth into its prey does not let go.” Nanami-san lifts his kimono sleeve to show you the snarling tiger tattooed across his arm. Its eyes seem to glow in the fire light. His muscles rippling under his skin make the animal look almost alive – ready to pounce. 

“I am a fierce man. I will admit, I have killed many men – women too. I have more scars than that which I can count. Aniki regards me as his most trusted brother, right alongside Gojo and Hiromi.” you are taken aback at his confession but he continues, “But I am not a man without reason. What I do is thought out and done. What I say I think and say. So believe me when I tell you, I have not fallen for you on some boyish whim…” 

He takes a deep breath, “You do not remember I am sure, but, it was about a year ago, I had been in a terrible shootout with a Kyoto gang and was injured. It was the coming of winter then as it is now, the streets were almost empty save a few stray cats and drunken men who were stumbling home. As I lay by the side of the road, I was certain that if they weren’t chasing after me with their guns, the blood loss would surely take me before my exhaustion did. And then there was a light…”

As he spoke you realised there was a certain familiarity in his story. 

“I lay there, broken, bruised, a pool of my own blood forming around me. Whatever locals walked past, avoiding me like I could and would at any moment snap and take off their ankles. I was not ready to die – full of regrets.” He paused and took a sip of the cup only to remember it was empty as he had stopped you from refilling it. So he took the bottle from your frozen hands and poured himself a drink, and then, one for you, and continued. 

“You came to me, out of the dark, holding that shamisen, very much in the same way that you did today walking into this room. Unafraid of how I looked. You, in that pretty blue kimono, your hair tied up and your face free of this makeup.” He gingerly touched your cheek. “And you pushed your little handkerchief into my hand and said to me, ‘stay alive, I will send help!’”

The memories came rushing back to your mind. That chilly evening, onee-san’s show which went on till late. You who played the shamisen for her to dance to, returning to the okiya with the instrument in your hands, stumbling upon this sorry-looking figure. Rushing to the nearest doctor's house and crying up a storm for them to go help the man! Even promising to speak to Okasan for some payment money but the request had never come and you now understood why! The man – then – had been smaller, sure and beaten up so badly that you didn’t recognise that that man and the one sitting before you now were one and the same, but you realised that the very aura that enveloped him then and drew you to him did so with you here as well. A commanding, yet gentle presence. 

“The doctor and his helper arrived soon after that. They took me to his house, patched me up, and when I asked them how they knew, they told me of the young maiko who cried at the door in desperation, pleading for help and making promises she probably couldn’t keep.” 

You felt yourself blush. “You didn’t owe me anything Nanami-san…” you mumbled. 

“On the contrary Fukuhina-chan, I owe you my life. After that day, I worked harder than ever. At the time I wasn’t so high up in the ranks, but I worked and rose up among the gokudo to sit at the side of the most powerful yakuza leader in all of Japan – and make enough money to become your danna…” You gasped. It was one thing to be a respected patron but another altogether to become a geisha's danna! “That is, if you’ll have me…” 

You could only nod your head, not daring to speak because of the lump forming in your throat. Your danna! That would mean the debt you needed to pay to your Okiya would be taken care of faster. That would mean you could become independent like Fukuhana-neesan was. 

“I am glad you have said yes Fukuhina-chan as I want to lavish you with the opulence you so rightly deserve.” His hand brushed against your cheek again, the cold fingers, a stark contrast to how hot your face felt. 

“Nanami-san.. I don’t know what to even say…” 

“Well, you don’t have to say anything right now, just answer me this, when everyone was lowering their heads and quickening their gait, seeing me dying there, what made you stop? Why did you help me that night? I could have been a danger to you or you could have gotten in trouble with your Okiya…”

It is true, you had dreaded the doctor coming to ask for his payment, not really knowing what to say to you Okasan about why you had called the doctor for an unknown yakuza. In your desperation to see him saved you hadn’t thought that far but what drew you to save him? 

“It was the way in which you held yourself… Even though you were almost dead, your head was high. And you were looking to the stars, not the people around you. You seemed to be wishing you could have done more, and I didn’t want to let you lose that chance.” In the silence around you even this whisper was deafening…      

When Nanami Kento left the tea house that evening, stumbling back to the room he had booked at the inn, his mind was consumed with only one thought. How much he now wanted to kiss your lips. The ones that recognised who he was even before anyone else had. 

Geisha are performers first and foremost, to kiss you and hold you, he knew, he would be asking a lot. But he wanted to show you that to him, you were the only thing that mattered now. He would woo you, and if luck happened to be on his side once again, he would be  honoured to become more than just your danna. 

End of Part 1

End of work A/N: I do not claim to know everything about geisha or yakuza as institutions/people. My understanding is a base level one and there may be things which are not so accurate here. Please allow me some leeway when reading and note that I am not an authority on these subjects. This was written for fun with a little research.

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: yakuza!kento x f!reader, money problems with family on the reader's side, reader's employer is a major w here, she works as a nanny, mentions of arranged marriage, mentions jokingly of 'losing a few pounds' by walking, and a hopeful ending

arranged marriage au with yakuza!boss kento. your former employer, a contact of kento's had referred you to him as a sweet, kind, and fitting candidate for the yakuza boss to marry. working as a nanny for the associate, you were already someone your employer knew his colleague could benefit from.

but you didn't want anything to do with this lifestyle.

"it's your uncle again," the worry and embarrassment of your mother's tone sank to the bottom of your stomach, followed by a heaviness. "I... I feel terrible for asking you, you know this, but you're the one-"

"-with a high paying job," you bite the inside of your cheek and sigh, "I know. what does he want now?"

"he..." your mother sighs, "he needs $1,200 within three days." you bite the inside of your cheek again. it always worked this way. it started with him and worked its way up towards your mother and now you, but what could you do? leave your mother to stress?

"okay," you exhale, looking at the fresh check your boss had given you this week: $1,250. you could definitely survive off of $50, right? it was just another week. you had some savings, but then you thought about rent, thought about other factors that let you consider your words for a minute. it was just a week, so you could do this, right?

"I'll send the money tomorrow. don't worry mom."

$50. you needed to survive your week with $50. perhaps, you thought, maybe you could sell that old coffee table in your apartment? if you tidy it up, you might get $60 for it, maybe $80. you also made some accommodations such as not using the bus. it was only an hour and twenty seven minutes to your employer's mansion, what could go wrong?

a sprained ankle.

luckily, you don't really feel pain until after your shift. your right ankle throbs, and you're forced to clutch onto it, keeping any noise from escaping your lips as you're leaving the children's rooms after putting them to sleep. "what... happened to your ankle?" your boss asks.

"I just hurt a ligament," you nerviusly chuckle, "I'll be fine-"

"-do you normally take the bus?" he asks, making you shake your head. "I..." embarrased, you say, "I thought I'd take up walking instead. loose a few pounds, heh-"

"let me take you in my car. I can't have the nanny to my children struggle like that." and who were you to protest? as you're being helped inside his black mercedes, your employer drives you to your home. taking note of several things he's seen throughout the week.

"so..." he says, "I might have a question that you may find alarming but... do I pay you well?" he asks, worry laced towards the end of his tone. "if so-"

"-yes," you answer, flushed and embarrassed, "I-I'm okay, the p-pay is okay sir, I just... I had some surprise payments to take care of." as he drives, he raises a brow.

"would you care to share that with me?"

"i-it's my family," you say, fidgeting with your hands as if you're a child. truth was, you didn't know why you were saying so much. whether it was the stress from these past few days, or the accumulation of stress solely from today had your eyes teary eyed as you looked away, wiping your tears hoping he wouldn't notice.

but he did.

that night, your boss drops you off your apartment. "take the week off," he suggests, voice softer. "there's been a sudden change to my plans so... my kids, I need to have them visit some family members for a bit. and..." he trails, voice careful, "I wouldn't want to throw away the food we already have, so... can I have it dropped off to you tomorrow morning?" he asks.

"I know this is very sudden, but I plan to compensate you for the last minute changes," he says, pulling out a checkbook, "will $3,000 be okay?"

"s-sir," you say, flushed and embarrsed. it's as if you've been granted another opportunity by an angel, "that's... more than enough-"

"-then please accept it," he says, handing you the check before you can even register what just happened. "I'll send the remaining food tomorrow, and in the meantime, you can rest for the week. maybe two. I need you to be in your best health beccause in 16 days, I need you to come with me and the children to visit an old friend, okay?"

you nod your head gratefully, "yes sir."

he smiles.

[mullermilkshake]

Like a curse

Jujutsu Kaisen, Yakuza AU (Set during 80s Japan)

Just want to see and write what the Jujutsu kaisen characters we know and love would be like if they lived in 80s Japan and were Yakuza instead of sorcerer’s.

Tag list

Prologue

Character profiles

Meet the cast

The Twelve days of fluffmas

Yakuza! AU arcs (???)

-> The client list

(More coming soon)

Ryomen Sukuna

Satoru Gojo

Suguru Geto

Kento Nanami

Toji Fushiguro

Choso Kamo

Hiromi Higuruma

Takuma Ino

Masamichi Yaga

Naoya Zenin

[cmdrfupa]

He is Devoted.

You were divinely created and followed with no second thoughts. A perfectly structured marble statue of you stands within the confines of his cognitive house of worship. You are his cult.

Sanctuary. The sole purpose of his life was pointless until you walked into his life. Every room now made holy as you blessed the floor to hold your weight and crafted to fit into his hermitage of despair, you made him see the light. He now had light.

You sat in the hallowed vales of his mind, never to be moved or forgotten.

He moves through the world as if tethered to the one he adores, every thought, every decision, every breath somehow connected to you. His love is not just a feeling but a force that shapes his very identity. It’s in the way his eyes soften, almost reverent, when he looks at you, their lover—as if his is gazing upon something divine, something that gives their life meaning.

His devotion is quiet yet overwhelming, present in every small act: the careful folding of a sweater, the way he lingers on your every word, memorizing it as if it’s scripture. He finds joy in your joy and ache when you ache, unable to draw a line between his emotions and yours.

He lives for the moments of closeness, craving the reassurance that his world still makes sense, for without you, it doesn’t. Even your flaws are cherished, woven into the tapestry of love they’ve built. To him, the idea of "self" feels irrelevant without their beloved—a moon forever in orbit, is drawn irresistibly by the gravity of a singular star.

His most unwavering declaration of love is not spoken but lived—it’s in the quiet, enduring actions that say, “I choose you, always.” It’s the willingness to stand by you, not just in moments of joy and ease but in their darkest hours, when you feel unlovable or broken.

It’s when he sees you completely—flaws, scars, and vulnerabilities—and instead of turning away, he leans in closer. It’s holding your hand when the world feels unbearable, standing in the storm with you when it would be easier to walk away.

The most unwavering declaration of love is sacrificing without hesitation, not out of obligation but because his happiness and well-being are as essential as your own. It’s a love that persists without expectation of return, a love that says, "No matter what changes, no matter what life demands of us, my heart will always be yours, and I will never stop choosing you."

Toji Fushiguro, Yuta Okkotsu, Nanami Kento, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna, Gyomei Himejima, Rindou Haitani, Shuji Hanma, Kirishima Miyama, John “Soap” MacTavish, ANY of your faves <3

[meruemhq]

Someday, Somewhere, Somehow, You'll Love Again [Master List]

Trigger Warnings: More tags to be added, kidnapping, drugs mentioned, mentions of past abuse, spanking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Alpha Gojo Satoru runs 80% of Japan's underground marijuana production. When a shipment goes missing Yuji takes it upon himself to retrieve the missing goods - all the while dragging Megumi into his shenanigans.

Among the stolen boxes and potted plants they find a Hybrid Omega.

It quickly sets in that this is a world far larger than illegal substances and turf wars.

Poly Omegaverse: Alpha Gojo Satoru, Alpha Nanami Kento, Alpha Sukuna, Alpha Fushihuro Toji, Omega Fushiguro Megumi, Omega Itadori Yuji x Black! Omega Hybrid!Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

More coming..

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Will cover dark and sexual content - Pay attention to tags and Trigger Warnings - remind me if I forget any💕

Also posted on AO3.

[satorusprites]

my irl husband made me a bday cake of my fictional husband and i’ve never felt more seen (kurosawa and adachi don’t count as my husbands but he knows I love them)

[camelpimp]

[shewasverynice]

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga)呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)  MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

Rating: Explicit 

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con 

Content Warnings: Dubious Consent, Prostitution, Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Violence

Categories: F/M, Multi, F/F 

Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character(s), Nanami Kento/Original Female Character(s), Getou Suguru/Original Female Character(s), Ieiri Shoko & Iori Utahime 

Major Characters: Original Characters, Gojo Satoru, Getou Suguru, Nanami Kento, Okkotsu Yuuta, Toudou Aoi, Zenin Naobito, Zenin Jinichi, Zenin, Zenin Ougi, Fushiguro Megumi, Kamo Clan, Nitta Akari, Inumaki Toge, Ieiri Shoko, Iori Utahime, Kusakabe Atsuya, Muta Kokichi, Itadori Yuuji, Hakari Kinji

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Chapter 17　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The room was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed down on the chest, making it hard to breathe. The air was thick with the scent of incense, though the sticks had long since burned out, leaving only a thin trail of smoke that spiraled upward before dissipating into nothingness. A solitary figure sat at a table, his back straight, shoulders tense. In front of him, a small pile of ashes sat in an ornate, yet impersonal urn. There was no picture, no flowers, no mementos—just ashes and silence.

He sat there, hands clenched tightly in his lap, the fabric of his black suit pulling slightly at the seams. The suit was new, stiff and uncomfortable, bought for this occasion, though the occasion itself felt more like an insult than a tribute. The absence of others was palpable; the emptiness of the room spoke louder than any eulogy could have. This was supposed to be a funeral, but it felt more like a mockery—a cold, indifferent gesture from a clan that cared so little about the man who had been reduced to ash.

The anger simmered just beneath the surface, bubbling up like magma in a volcano, threatening to erupt at any moment. His jaw clenched, the muscles tensing as he fought to keep his emotions in check. But it was a losing battle. The anger was too strong, too deep-rooted. How could they do this? How could they show such blatant disregard for someone who, despite everything, was still one of them? The man in front of him—his father—had been many things, but he was still blood. And yet, they couldn’t even be bothered to attend his funeral.

The door creaked open behind him, and a figure stepped inside, the sound of footsteps echoing through the empty room. He didn’t turn around, didn’t acknowledge the presence behind him. He knew who it was before the man even spoke.

“So… this is it, huh?” The voice was casual, almost dismissive, as if commenting on the weather rather than the remains of a family member. “Shame, really. He could have been something, but… well, you know how it is.”

The man standing at the doorway offered a half-hearted sigh, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes, before giving a perfunctory nod toward the urn. “He’ll be missed… or whatever.”

The words were empty, devoid of any real sentiment or care. There was no emotion in them, no weight. They were just words—hollow, meaningless. With that, the man turned on his heel and walked out, the door creaking shut behind him.

The silence returned, heavier now, suffocating. The figure seated at the table slowly stood, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. His breath came in sharp, shallow bursts as he fought to contain the storm raging inside him. But no tears fell. There were no tears left for this. Just anger—pure, unadulterated anger.

He stared at the urn for a moment longer, the anger building until it was nearly unbearable. And then, without a word, he turned and stormed out of the empty funeral parlor, leaving the ashes—and the indifference of his clan—behind.

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

The office was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. The heavy scent of tobacco hung in the air, mingling with the sterile scent of old paper and polished wood. Nanami sat behind his desk, his hands clasped together, eyes fixed on the man lounging across from him. Gojo, as usual, was anything but professional. He was tipped back in his chair, legs casually propped up on the desk, his thick sunglasses completely obscuring his eyes. A cigarette dangled lazily from his lips, the smoke curling upward in thin wisps.

Nanami’s jaw clenched slightly at the sight, but he held his tongue. He knew there was no point in telling Gojo to sit properly. It would just lead to another pointless argument, and Nanami didn’t have the energy for that. Not today. He had more important matters to discuss, and Gojo’s antics, as irritating as they were, weren’t going to distract him.

“I’m going to ask you about some information I’ve found,” Nanami began, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of tension, “And I need the truth from you, Gojo.”

Gojo flicked down his sunglasses with a single finger, his bright blue eyes locking onto Nanami’s. He stared for a moment, the weight of his gaze almost oppressive, before he shrugged lightly. “Sure, whatever,” he said, his tone as nonchalant as ever.

Nanami resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. He needed to keep his composure, needed to stay focused. “What do you know about Q.N.?” he asked, his tone direct, cutting through the thick air between them.

Gojo’s expression shifted, the easy smile fading slightly as he leaned back in his chair, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers. He sighed deeply, rubbing his face with his free hand, clearly weighing his words before he spoke. “I know that Q.N. had a hand in all of this,” he finally admitted, his voice lower, more serious, “They were the one who wanted Sarah to be the vessel for Sukuna. They set up the ritual, made sure everything was in place.”

Nanami’s eyes narrowed slightly. This was more than he had expected Gojo to admit. "Anything else?" He pressed.

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his hand dropping from his face. “My mother was the only one who defended me from Q.N. when I took Sarah in after the ritual," he said quietly, "When I kept her locked away, sedated with whatever I could get, I was trying to figure out what the hell to do next. No one else in the clan gave a shit. They were all too busy fighting their own battles, playing their own games and trying to take her from me.”

Nanami took a deep breath, considering his next words carefully. “I’ve found some information that will likely upset you,” he said slowly, watching Gojo’s reaction.

Gojo sat up slightly, his casual demeanor slipping as he focused on Nanami. “What is it?” he asked, his voice tense.

Nanami leaned forward, his eyes serious. “With the information we found in Malaysia, along with everything Sarah uncovered over the years, and the intel from the art auction and one of Tenjiku’s informants… I’ve discovered that Q.N. is a Gojo clan member.”

Gojo’s eyes flashed with anger, but there was no surprise in them. He had suspected as much. But before he could speak, Nanami continued, his voice steady but carrying a weight that made Gojo pause.

“Q.N. stands for Queen of Night.”

Gojo’s hands clenched into fists, the cigarette crumbling between his fingers. “Why are you saying it like that?” he asked, his voice low, dangerous.

Nanami didn’t flinch. “Queen of Night,” he repeated, emphasizing each word, “Does that phrase mean anything to you? Specifically, does it relate to any of the Gojo elders? Someone with a particular affinity for night-blooming cactus plants, perhaps?”

Gojo’s eyes went wide, his breath catching in his throat. He shot up from his chair, moving toward the door with a sudden, desperate urgency. “I have to go,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami was on his feet in an instant, blocking Gojo’s path. “You can’t just leave, Gojo,” he said firmly, his hand on Gojo’s chest to stop him, “This information could be enough to end the war. You need to stay and help us figure this out.”

“This is more than just a shitty war!” Gojo snapped, his voice rising as he tried to push past Nanami, “You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand!” Nanami retorted, his own frustration finally breaking through. “You always do this—running off, doing your own thing, leaving us to clean up the mess. But this time, it’s different. We need to know who Q.N. is, and we need to know now.”

Gojo’s eyes blazed with anger, but there was something else there too—something deeper, more painful. He looked at Nanami for a long moment, the room heavy with tension, before finally, he broke.

“It’s my Mother,” he spat out, the words dripping with bitterness, “Q.N. is my Mother.”

Nanami’s eyes widened, the revelation hitting him like a punch to the gut. He stepped back, giving Gojo space as the implications of what he had just learned settled in.

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, his entire body trembling with barely-contained rage. “She’s the one behind all of this,” he said, his voice raw, “She’s the one who orchestrated everything. She bought her... she... she's the one who made Sarah the vessel then tried to... She tried to get rid of her at Tenjiku too... I don't know why I didn't see it...”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the truth pressing down on them both. Nanami stared at Gojo, seeing the pain and anger in his eyes, and for the first time, truly understanding the burden he carried.

“We have to stop her,” Nanami finally said, his voice quiet but resolute, “Whatever it takes, we have to stop her.”

"What the fuck is she trying to do?" Gojo gritted, "Have you figured it out?"

"Not the end goal, no," Nanami said, "We just know the plan with Sarah was to create the blood based drug from her and create curses. Q.N. has been wise and not written down anything more than dates and numbers mostly."

"No convenient manifestos?" Gojo chuckled darkly, his eyes on the floor as he shook his head, "Figures. That sneaky bitch." Gojo looked up at Nanami again and asked, "Did you find out what she was drugging me with?"

Nanami paused. He was taken aback by the straightforward question, assuming Gojo wouldn't have asked. "She was dosing you with a mix of oxycodone and various herbs," Nanami murmured, "It started sometime around 2003."

"Right," Gojo said, his voice tense, "Yeah, that makes sense. That's around when I was getting too close to Sarah."

"Gojo," Nanami started, unsure how to word what he wanted to say, "I am sorry, for what happened to you. I can't imagine how confusing and difficult it must have been to be under the influence so young and without your own knowledge... But I--."

"Yeah," Gojo replied, cutting him off, "I get it. I know. You don't have to say anything."

"No, I should," Nanami said, "I've been very harsh with you about some matters before I learned everything. I still think that you're too unpredictable and have little discipline, but I apologize for how I spoke to you about your past. It's not your fault. What happened back then was out of your control and I apologize for implying it was."

"Thanks..." Gojo said softly, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile for a moment, "I'm sorry I've had such a hard time with all of this. I'm really trying but--"

"There's no more time for trying," Nanami said, cutting him off with his stern demeanor returning, "We have no more time to try anything. We have to do it and commit to our decisions."

"I need to go find my mother," Gojo said as his fists were clenching again, "Especially before... Anyone else does."

"Who else would have figured this out?" Nanami asked, but Gojo only shook his head.

"Let's just get Suguru," Gojo said, opening the door, "We need to get over to Kyoto and talk to her right now."

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

"More," Geto gritted out with his face buried in the crook of Rin's shoulder. The bed beneath them creaked with each heavy thrust, the headboard tapping on the wall.

"That's it darling," he huffed, "No need to be afraid...  More, please?"

Rin whimpered, her eyes rolling back as he continued to fuck her. Deep and languid, he was taking his time to savor every inch of her. He inhaled the scent of her skin, the mix of his cigarettes on her breath with that sickening copper tinge of blood.

"More, huh?" She purred.

"More," he whispered urgently. "More, darling. Please... I need more."

She whined again, her legs locking around his waist. Her nails dug deeper into his back, her moan of pleasure blending with his own moan of pain.

"Good girl," he gasped into her ear, those heavy thrusts getting faster and shallower and sloppier.

Warm blood dripped between her fingers, gliding down his back in streaking beads. The tracks left were raw, still oozing as the air stung on the exposed flesh.

"Mmn! Fuck!" He grunted out his words between breaths, "Fuck, that burns. Dig those nails deeper, baby. Deeper, now. Drag them harder."

His arms wrapped around her tighter. Faster, shakier and desperate. His breath mixed with a hissing growl before he pleaded.

"Can you hurt me some more?"

She huffed, her hips canting up and a foot falling back down into the sheets. Her toes curled as he thrust harder and harder, her nails raking down his back and her head pressing back into the pillow.

Sweat dripped off his chin while be nudged her head up to kiss her. Her nails withdrew from his muscles and he moaned into her open mouth, the sound melting into a breathless chuckle.

"I'm cumming..." he gasped out, "Nn! Baby, I'm-- I'm cumming!"

He panted, his open mouth against hers and his ears buzzing. She squirmed beneath him, his seed seeping out through their connection.

"Just one more, hmm? Help me get there?" He whispered, gently placing his forehead to hers.

Rin's eyes were sparkling, eager for another. She grinned at him, the stain of his blood still on her teeth. "Now where?" She mumbled, wetting her lips with her tongue.

"Throat p-please," he mumbled out, his voice strained "Choke me, darling. Dig your nails into my-- my--mmnn!! Yeah! R-right there, right there—"

Rin's nails dug in when her fingers curled around his throat, the thin skin breaking easily. The sun peaking through the blinds reflected off the shiny tracks down his cheeks, the tears of pain rolling freely and mixing with the fresh blood from his neck. He coughed and choked out a moan as she squeezed tighter, his cock hardening again in her cunt. His thin eyes were barely cracked open, his pale skin flushing red.

"F-fuh-uck!" He gasped, his nose pressing into her cheek as his hips slowly surged forward. His legs trembled before she released her hold and he inhaled deeply.

"Again... Again!" He pleaded, pressing his mouth sloppily to hers, panting too hard to seal their lips. His tongue hung loosely in her mouth and his breath hitched when her fingers wrapped around again.

The veins in his neck popped out from the exertion and he choked again. Her nails sliced new red crescents into his skin

"Agh—" he coughed out, "It-- It h-hurts— Aah!!"

"That's what you wanted," she said with a grin, his eyes rolling back, "You asked, you got it slut."

Her words were... Wrong... Not something she would say. His eyes shot open, refocusing. Not Rin... Not her... No wonder it didn't hurt right. No wonder she wasn't crying those sweet tears... Instead Boe smirked at him, her tongue caught between her teeth in a gleeful smirk.

He sighed, and buried his face into her shoulder, kissing her neck. She shuddered as his sharp canines broke skin and found blood.

"My turn," he mumbled, "Sit still for me..."

The door burst open and Geto barely slowed his thrusts, lifting his head to look blearily at the intruders. He barely registered Gojo's white hair before he heard the dark chuckle from his best friend's lips.

"Oh shit, so you just fuck anyone huh?" He said, not to Geto but to Boe.

Boe shrugged, running her fingertips down the deep scratches down Geto's back, "So what? You mad?"

"Bitch, I don't give a--"

"Can I-- nn! Can I have a minute please?" Geto huffed as he sat up. He clicked his tongue, looking down in disgust at Boe before he said, "... The moment was ruined anyway."

"Not my fault," she shrugged as she rolled onto her front to reach for the cigarettes on the end table, "I don't know what kind of shit she used to say to you."

Nanami peeked over his shoulder, still facing away in the doorway. Geto's eyes flicked over to the blond for a moment, an uncomfortable tension building between them for a beat before Gojo plopped down on the bed and lit a cigarette off of Boe's.

"We gotta go see my mom," Gojo grumbled, "Turns out her ass is Q.N., can you believe that?"

Boe and Geto shared a look this time before Geto shifted to get out of bed. He politely laid the sheet over Boe's naked body before he got up to get dressed. The cuts on his neck and back slowly faded as the reverse cursed energy kicked in, but he still grabbed a towel to wipe the excess blood off with a towel hanging off the dresser.

"So... Nothin'?" Gojo asked, "Nothin' to say about that or--"

"I'm thinking, Satoru." Geto snapped.

Gojo blinked, surprised by his outburst. Geto immediately ran a hand through his hair before he looked back and smiled at Satoru, "I'm sorry. Just the blue balls talking..."

"My bad man," Gojo said with a smirk, "Want us to leave?"

"Fuck that," Boe laughed, "Moods gone already." She slipped her top on then playfully nudged Gojo's chin with her fist, "Unless you both--"

"Boe."

"Or all threeee?" Her grin widened as Nanami tried to interject, laughing as he turned away with an angry grunt. The uncomfortable silence was filled with the shifting of clothes as Geto and Boe dressed.

On her way out, she walked up to him and stood on her toes to whisper. "Be careful. Don't let them know the plan, hmm?"

Geto watched her leave, scowling as she brushed her hand down Nanami's thigh with a laugh. Nanami cleared his throat, stepping into the room once she was gone. "That girl is dangerous," he mumbled, "What was she up to?"

"Nothing important," Geto said, smiling as he pulled on a blazer over his red silk shirt, "Now, what was it you two needed? What kind of fun are we up to today?"

Gojo, for once, didn’t have a witty retort. He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, revealing eyes that were stormy with unresolved emotions. He said, "We need to see my mother. Now."

Geto frowned, sensing something deeper beneath Gojo's terse words. "Why the rush?" He asked, "What's happening?"

Gojo’s eyes flickered with something close to desperation. "We need to get to her before anyone else does," he said, wringing his hands.

Nanami glanced at Gojo, his own expression carefully neutral, though there was a hint of worry in his eyes. "You’ve said that before, Gojo. What aren’t you telling us?" He asked.

Gojo ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated, but the anxiety in his movements was unmistakable. "I promise, I’ll tell you everything once I get the details myself," he said, "But right now, we need to move. There’s no time to waste."

Geto studied Gojo for a long moment, trying to read the emotions hidden behind his friend’s usually impenetrable mask. But whatever he saw there was enough to convince him. He nodded, slipping his feet into his shoes by the door. "Alright. Let’s go."

The three of them moved quickly, their footsteps echoing down the corridor as they made their way out. But as they reached the entrance, they came to a sudden stop. Standing in the way, was Megumi Zen'in. His eyes were dark, almost black, filled with a murderous intent that made the three older men pause.

Gojo’s expression shifted to a glare, but there was a hint of something softer, something almost pained in his gaze. "Move aside, Megumi," he said coldly, "I really don’t want to have to kill a kid today."

Megumi didn’t move. He just stared at them, his face contorted in a mix of rage and despair. Nanami, sensing the volatility of the situation, spoke up, his voice calm but firm, "Megumi, if you need to talk to Itadori—"

"Shut up!" Megumi's shout was like a thunderclap, silencing everything around them. His hands were shaking, and as he shouted, a small plastic baggie slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.

The sight of the baggie sent a shockwave through the three older men. It wasn’t just any baggie. It was filled with a fine, dark powder—cursed energy residue. The implications were immediate and terrifying.

Before they could react, Megumi's cursed technique surged out of control. Shadow creatures erupted from the darkness, twisting and writhing like nightmares given form. The air crackled with cursed energy, and the world around them was swallowed by darkness.

"Shit!" Gojo swore, immediately activating his Infinity as the shadows surged toward them. He didn’t want to hurt Megumi, but the power pouring out of the boy was overwhelming, a force of nature that threatened to consume everything in its path.

Geto and Nanami were quick to follow suit, their own techniques flaring to life. Geto summoned curses to counter the shadow creatures, while Nanami used his ratio technique to strike with precision, aiming to incapacitate rather than kill.

But Megumi was relentless. His anger and pain fueled his cursed technique as the drug made it wild and uncontrollable. The shadows moved like a living thing, coiling and striking with lethal intent. The battle was fierce, the older men struggling to keep up with the onslaught while trying not to seriously injure Megumi.

Gojo’s usual smirk was gone, replaced by a look of grim determination. He could see the pain in Megumi’s eyes, the darkness that had taken hold of him, and it twisted something deep inside him. But there was no time to dwell on it. They had to stop him before he tore himself apart.

With a sudden burst of energy, Gojo unleashed a powerful blast of cursed energy, dispersing the shadows around him. "Enough!" he shouted, his voice carrying a command that echoed through the darkness.

The force of Gojo's attack momentarily stunned Megumi, giving Nanami the opening he needed. With a precise strike, he aimed for a pressure point, knocking Megumi out cold.

The shadows dissipated immediately, the cursed energy vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The air was thick with the aftermath of battle, the ground littered with the remnants of shadow creatures.

The three men gathered around Megumi’s unconscious form, their breaths heavy with exertion. Nanami knelt down, checking Megumi’s pulse with a practiced hand. Relief washed over him as he found it steady, though faint.

“He’s alive,” Nanami confirmed, his voice tinged with exhaustion. He looked up at Gojo, who was staring down at Megumi with an unreadable expression.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. The hallway seemed to close in around them, the air thick with tension. Geto broke the silence with a statement that sent a chill through the room.

"We should kill him," he said, his voice calm, almost too calm, as if he were suggesting something as mundane as what to have for dinner.

Gojo’s brows furrowed, his gaze snapping to Geto. He stared at his friend, trying to understand what he had just heard. There was confusion in his eyes, but more than that, there was a deep sense of betrayal. "What the hell are you saying, Suguru?" He asked, his voice hushed.

Nanami, however, reacted immediately, his expression hardening with disbelief. "No. Absolutely not." He said, His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. "Megumi is a child, barely more than sixteen years old," he said, "He’s hardly to blame for the actions of his elders. His death would be no better than Toji killing Fumiya."

Geto didn’t flinch at Nanami’s words. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, were cold, almost calculating as he explained his reasoning. "It’s necessary," he explained calmly, "If we want to end this war, we have to strike a blow that will make the Zen'in hesitate, make them reconsider their actions. Megumi is likely their strongest asset, their greatest hope for the future. Removing him would force them to back off."

Nanami shook his head, his anger barely contained. "He’s a child, Suguru!" He nearly shouted, "This isn’t a war against children. What kind of message does that send? How does killing him benefit anyone?"

Geto’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unyielding. "He’s a child who came here to kill, Nanami," he continued, "He was ready to take our lives and took that drug to have the power to do it. You saw it yourself—his cursed technique was out of control. If we let him go, who’s to say he won’t come back stronger, more dangerous? And next time, we might not be able to stop him."

Nanami stared at Geto, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. There was something different in Geto’s eyes, something darker, more resolute. The man who had once been his comrade, someone he trusted implicitly despite their differences, now seemed like a stranger. There had always been tension between them, ideological differences that they often butted heads over, but this…this was something else. A deep-seated hatred that Nanami didn’t recognize, something that made his blood run cold.

"Under no circumstances should Megumi be killed," Nanami said again, his voice low and dangerous, "We are not executioners. We’re supposed to be protectors."

Geto’s expression didn’t change. "And I’m saying this as a protector," he said, "Sometimes, to protect the greater good, sacrifices must be made."

Before the argument could escalate further, Gojo intervened, picking up Megumi’s unconscious form with ease. "Fuck this," he said, his tone brokering no argument, "We’re not killing him. We’ll keep him captive. That should solve the problem for now."

The decision made, Gojo carried Megumi out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he descended to the basement level. The tension in the room didn’t dissipate with his departure; if anything, it grew thicker, heavier.

Geto and Nanami were left alone, the silence between them thick with unspoken words. Nanami’s deep scowl clashed with Geto’s easy, almost mocking smile. The air between them was charged, a battle of wills playing out in the space of a few heartbeats.

Nanami knew something was wrong. The Geto he knew would never have suggested killing a child, no matter the circumstances. But the man standing before him now was different, changed in ways Nanami couldn’t yet understand. There was a darkness in his eyes, a bitterness that Nanami had never seen before. It made him wary, made him question everything he thought he knew about his comrade.

Even when Gojo returned, urging them to leave quickly, Nanami couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. His better judgment screamed at him to confront Geto, to demand answers, but he ignored it, choosing instead to trust in the bond they had shared for so long.

As they left the building, the air was thick with tension and uncertainty. Nanami’s mind was filled with questions, doubts gnawing at him, but he kept them to himself. There would be time for answers later, he told himself.

Geto trailed behind ever so slightly. The tension from their earlier exchange lingered in the air like a dense fog, but he moved with an unsettling calm, as if nothing had transpired. His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing over the cool surface of his phone. With practiced ease, he pulled it out and quickly typed a message, his thumb flying over the screen with a precision that spoke of familiarity. The dark grin that curled his lips was brief, quickly hidden away as he hit send and pocketed the device again.

Neither Gojo nor Nanami seemed to notice, their attention focused elsewhere—Gojo, lost in thought, likely contemplating the implications of what they’d just witnessed, and Nanami, still fuming silently over their earlier conversation. Geto caught up to them easily, his face a mask of serene indifference, but for a fleeting moment, there was a glint in his eyes, something cruel and sharp that flickered and then vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

A faint beep interrupted the silence in a dimly lit bedroom. A phone screen illuminated, casting a pale blue glow over the face of the man slouched in bed. He was sprawled lazily across the mattress, an expression of boredom etched into his features. But as the text pinged on his phone, his eyes flickered with interest, and a wicked grin began to creep across his lips. The boredom evaporated in an instant, replaced by something far darker, more menacing.

He straightened up, a low chuckle bubbling up from his throat. It was a sound filled with malice, a dark giggle that reverberated in the quiet room. The message on his phone was short, but it was enough. Enough to stir the twisted satisfaction that lay coiled within him.

His fingers danced across the screen in reply, his smile growing wider with each tap. The anticipation of what was to come sent a thrill through him, and he could hardly contain his excitement. The time for boredom had passed; now there was only the thrill of the game, the pleasure of playing his part in the grand scheme that was unfolding.

With a final tap, he sent his reply and got up from the bed, his movements fluid and purposeful. That dark giggle escaped his lips once more as he grabbed his jacket, pulling it on with a flourish. There was a gleam in his eyes, a glint of something dangerously unhinged, as he made his way to the door. He paused for a moment, glancing back at the room as if savoring the last vestiges of the quiet before the storm.

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him as he stepped out into the hall, that wicked smile never leaving his face. The game was on, and Hakari was more than ready to play his part.

⤶ Prev Main Next ↪

[romancemedia]

Anime Romances + Romantic Atmosphere

[spookielettuce]

ASSORTED DOODLES YEA!!

i wanted to finish off my sketchbook teehee ^w^

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

"you know I'd do anything for you."

"ken..."

"I mean it," the yakuza boss persists, leaning forward as the two of you sit in the comfort of your shared matrimonial bed, 4 months of marriage with yet no arguments to be seen (to the surprise of everyone around you: maids, friends, your mother, and you). kento has been all the accommodating in this transition. even when he knew half your heart did not want to settle in like this, in this world.

"you don't have to say that," you hope the softness in your voice can lessen the weight of your words, "we don't have to do this... thing,"

"does my desire to put myself at your will make you uncomfortable?"

"i-it's not that-"

"then will you allow me?" he asks, "not as my wife, but as you," the way he says your name makes your heart skip a beat, your throat contracts as he leaves you with a question you were not expecting.

"I don't know what you're asking of me." you almost flinch when he sighs, fearing you've made this entirely worse, but at your question, your husband takes your hands in his.

"allow me to join you for brunch," you know exactly what he means by this. every saturday, you liked to eat outside the porch. with a book in hand or a pen, you used these objects as a means of comfort.

you now realize he was trying to be the same.

"okay," you breathe, sighing shakily as you nod. "do you... want to start tomorrow?" he nods.

"I'd like that, thank you."

[mullermilkshake]

Meet the cast

Readers of the JJKYakuza! AU

EDIT: Forgot to say, this song has absolutely nothing to do with that time period but I love it and I think it suits the post :3

Yakuza!JJK men x Fem!readers.

Sukuna, Satoru, Suguru, Kento, Toji, Choso

Though each piece of writing I do is how the reader would like to read it, each one I write has naturally written themselves personalities though I’ve tried to be a little vague to keep immersion as linear as possible. I also keep it as second person because I just prefer writing that way.

Each reader is Fem!reader, but some shorts/ fics could be read as Afab! I will indicate where the reader is definitely Fem! The pronouns I use most of the time are She/Her. I purposely try and leave certain details to be as inclusive as I can.

I'll update as the characters write themselves and if there are any new non- platonic/platonic interests reveal themselves.

So, without further ado, I'm pleased to introduce to you properly, the readers of my JJK Yakuza AU.

Enjoy!

Sukuna's wife

You are determined, self assured and despite what Sukuna puts on display for the clan to see, you most definitely wear the pants in this marriage.

Sukuna just hates to admit it.

You have him inadvertently wrapped around your little finger. Your adaptability proves useful in the world of the Yakuza and took well to stepping up and being the Chairman’s wife after an impromptu marriage proposal.

It slipped from Sukuna's lips and he's never regretted asking you the way he did. He was almost speechless when you gave Nanami the answer to pass along and he was married to you within the month.

Determined is one way to put it. You aren’t indecisive and you know what you want in life to reach out and grab it.

One thing that turns Sukuna on every time is that glare you have when you are angry. Though you don't show it, it's an expression that verges on lustrous.

And Sukuna is addicted to it.

Satoru's girlfriend

You are timid at times but you're coming out of your shell each and every day. You make Satoru want to be a better man after all the fucked up shit he's done and continues to do.

So kind spirited, humble and charitable.

You care deeply for Satoru and it's sometimes hard for him to see that. He knows he's difficult to be with sometimes yet you never point his flaws out or put him down.

It's one of your perfect traits. Loving him unconditionally.

Yakuza life irks you at times and Satoru see's the worry that builds up behind your eyes, but again, you don't forbid him from his family or ask him to cut that part of him off.

Not many people would put up with the tomfoolery he brings to your front door.

But you do.

Suguru's wife.

'Behind each successful man, theres a woman holding him up.' This is something Suguru stands by and believes wholeheartedly.

You are fully aware of Suguru's involvement with the Yakuza and at times, you even actively encourage it. Being the person you are and how long you've known Suguru, you allow him to take care of what's needed to be done. Even hurting bad people so long there's a reason to do so.

Suguru's conscience is something you hold dear to your heart and have always made it clear that you don't want him losing his way.

That being said, you are one hell of a mama bear to the girls. Whenever, albeit on rare occasions when the girls are threatened, you don't wait for Suguru to deal with it.

You'd happily take on the entire Yakuza to keep his girls safe and Suguru is certain you'd win hands down too.

It's a dominant trait and at times it’s something that Suguru is scared of. Because you really are the one in charge and he loves that about you.

Kento's single (currently)

Though single, you have caught his eye and Kento wishes to speak to you in person. As someone who's bubbly and charming, you are incredibly elusive whenever Kento does his best to converse with you in person.

You have no idea he exists and how many times he's tried to speak with you. Something always gets in the way.

There's still so much of you that Kento wants to learn about and the only way he'll do that is to build up the courage and speak to you.

Kindness is something common in your vocabulary and you do it everyday with a smile.

What's your favourite movie, weather or season? How much do you enjoy to read that same book you have stuffed into your purse whenever he sees you reading in that coffee shop?

These are all things he wants to know, and eventually he'll get his wish just to hear your voice with his own hears again instead of on a monitor screen in his office.

Toji's girlfriend

Wow. You were more than everything Toji could have actually anticipated when he first met you.

You grew comfortable around him around the six month mark and now, Toji lives with you and watches you walk around the apartment naked just because you can.

Toji admires your confidence and the fact you don't question him wherever he goes. Clinginess is something he avoids and your independence is attractive.

Your personality is still yet to be fully developed with him, and that's because he isn't sure how you'll react when you eventually find out that he is involved with the Yakuza.

He has an suspicion that you might join the pieces together, but your independence stops you badgering him. So for now it's manageable.

Still, you'll find out sooner or later and Toji has no idea if you'll see him differently after learning his past and present.

Until then, he’ll have faith in your kindness.

Choso's dating

While everything is still new for Choso, you are still a breath of fresh air for him.

It's early days and there's much healing to be had with how your ex died. (Another Yakuza guy who was a massive dick.)

You love animals and seem to be the least judgemental person he's ever met. You never look at the scar across his face and look at him like he's an actual human being.

Unlike how Sukuna glares at him.

Your voice is soothing to his ears, someone who makes him feel safe as he finds his own identity in the Yakuza. You don't know he's Yakuza yet but Choso plans to come clean soon.

He's not sure how you'll react when he's sure you didn't know your ex was Yakuza either. Though based off of the pleasant warm aura you emit to brighten up any room, he prays you'll see that he's more than just someone involved in crime when he tries to actively avoid it.

[cmdrfupa]

II. Kuromaku (黒幕・くろまく)

black curtain. A fixer who works behind the scenes; A secret decision-maker.

All content warnings and chapters can be found here

I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

5.1k words

The boutique was quiet except for the soft rustling of fabric as you sifted through an array of delicate lace and silk and the neighboring bridal party that laughed at another awful joke the bride made.

The glow from the chandelier light reflected off the pearl beading of the hanging embellishments, giving the room a dreamlike quality—one that felt entirely disconnected from reality.

Across from you, Nanami sat with his arms and legs crossed, in that composed yet commanding way of his. His gaze, sharp and stiff, flicked between the dresses and your face as though he were assessing both for their worth. You had long since learned that his silence spoke volumes.

"You don't have to do this," he finally spoke matter of factly, his voice calm.

You sighed, turning back to the dress in front of you. "We've been over this, Kento."

"And I’m still not convinced."

His bluntness was nothing new. Nanami had always been straightforward, never one to dance around a subject, especially when it came to you.

Since your arrival in Japan back in high school all those years ago, Kento was the guard dog you never asked for. No bark, just bite. A very strong one at that.

You let out a short laugh, though there was no real humor in it. "It’s not about being convinced. It’s already happening."

Nanami exhaled through his nose, clearly displeased. He leaned back, his expression unreadable but heavy with something unspoken. "Does he deserve you?"

You hesitated, fingers grazing over the intricate embroidery of a gown before you dropped your hand. "I don't know if that matters."

"It matters to me."

You turned to face him then, meeting his gaze head-on. "Why?"

He stared at you for a long moment, unreadable as ever. Then, he shifted, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. "Because your mother should want someone who looks out for you. Because I don't trust men who are willing to take what isn't freely given. And because if he ever gives me a reason, I’d like to know in advance whether I have your permission to put a bullet between his eyes."

The bluntness of his words stole the breath from your lungs.

A small, almost amused smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?"

"No," Nanami said flatly. "Not extreme enough."

The weight of his words settled between you. He wasn’t posturing, wasn’t saying it to be dramatic. If the time ever came, you knew without a doubt that Nanami Kento would act. And that realization brought a strange warmth to your chest—comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

You turned back to the row of dresses, running your fingers along the smooth fabric. "You won't have to."

Nanami didn’t respond right away. Then, in a voice lower than before, he asked, "Are you sure?"

You weren’t. Not really. But it wasn’t something you could admit—not here, not now.

So instead, you reached for a gown and held it up against you, tilting your head as if assessing the fit. "Tell me, Kento," you said, forcing a lightness into your tone. "Do I look like a bride?"

Nanami’s jaw tensed. His eyes swept over you, and for the briefest moment, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"You look like someone playing a role," he said finally.

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Then I guess I'm doing it right."

Nanami said nothing more, but as you turned back to the mirror, you could feel his gaze lingering—watching, waiting, as though searching for something.

“His name is Hiromi Higuruma.”

“I know what his name is.”

You turned back to Kento, pursing your lips. What else do you know?”

Kento stood up, fixing the pips of his collar as he moseyed to the center of the room.

“He is the legally adopted son of Hideyoshi, his first lieutenant and law advisor. Started as a little miscreant when taken in by the Todo clan was but was deemed as too much trouble and handed over to Hideyoshi at 12 in an attempt to keep him out of trouble with the law.”

No response from you. He watched you out of the corner of his eyes as you decided to pretend that the bright orange fabric was more important than his words.

“You know I keep my hands clean. I prefer the life of being under the radar while I watch over you-”

“I’m not asking you to watch over me.” you snapped your neck, raising your voice while you marched towards him. “You and my parents seem to forget that I’m a grown ass woman who has done far more for myself than any of you combined.”

Kento didn’t react. He looked at you almost challenging you, unamused and unshaken by your attempt of being aggressive before sliding his phone out of his pocket and pressing it to his ear.

“Nanami.”

The person of the other end of the call spoke for all of a full minute before Kento hung up.

“Your soon to be husband is asking for you to come to the reception hall today at two thirty, You need to finalize the floral selections and have your lesson on the Sakazuki.”

“He has your number?”

“No.” he replied, “Itadori from your soon to be father in laws family. He has my number.”

You were even more confused now. “Why does he have your number? Isn’t that like, disloyal or something?”

“He is what keeps 3 of the confederated groups in contact with me.”

“The Higuruma’s aren’t a confederated family so why is he calling you.”

The left corner of Kento’s mouth lifted, “I believe people who don’t want anything to do with the ‘filthy work’ I do should worry about these things.” he booped your nose knowing you hated it and took a step back.

“Let me finish making my selections and I’ll be ready to head out.”

He fished out his keys and sighed. “No need to rush. He is sending a driver. Will be here in 20 minutes which means I need to be heading out now.”

While he didn’t necessarily need to be around, you wanted him to be. In the last few months since being told you were to marry and meeting your soon to be husband, you hadn’t had a chance to see Kento for longer than 10 minutes outside of a quick drop off or video call. Him being there while you finally got to make an actual decision in this whole arrangement felt like old times.

You missed the friendly banter.

“I suppose. Will I see you at the rehearsal dinner next week?”

“Your mother would have my head if I didn’t show up. I’ll be there.”

You leaned in and hugged him around his neck. “See you then. Drive carefully.”

He patted your back, “Of course.” He pulled back, gently pulling a coil of your hair before pulling away. “One last thing.”

Raising your brow you took a step back. “What?”

“Since you’re feeling bold today, the floral asymmetric boat neck dress or the floral jacquard ball gown by Talbot Runhof that you’ve picked out will really make you stand out as the don’t need anyone ‘grown ass woman’ who does it all for herself. Will be a classic look with a platform.”

The death stare you gave him finally made Kento crack a smile.

“Enjoy your floral picking.”

He bowed his head and made his way out of the boutique.

The car ride from the boutique was silent. The luxury vehicle hummed softly as the cityscape passed by, and though the plush seats were comfortable, you felt anything but at ease.

The destination was already known—Hiromi had arranged for you to visit the reception venue and finalize details. You weren’t thrilled, but compliance was the easiest route.

Upon arrival, the air was thick with the scent of fresh cut grass and flowers. You moved through the venue quickly, finding Hiromi in what you assumed to be the reception hall.

He stood in front of long table filled with a variation of bouquets lining every inch of the table, turning to smile as he heard you approach. His short sleeve polo perfectly cut off where his tattoos did, accentuating the leanness of his arms. “How was your dress shopping? Did you find anything you liked?”

The way he could smile and act as if this was natural made your stomach turn. But that inkling of understanding trickled in, this could very well be a show.

“It was fine. Found a few options. I had them take a few pictures of me trying some on so you could choose which one would be best on me for our reception.”

‘Be agreeable. Go against him and it will turn every conversation into a fight.’ the words rang in your mind as you reached for your phone.

Hiromi look bemused, like you spoke ill of his loved ones with what you said. “That won’t be necessary. You choose what you wear to the reception. I’m sure you’ve selected some great pieces. You’ll look stunning, I know it.”

Hiromi crossed his arms, rubbing his elbow as he looked back to the table. “I’ll admit I am a very basic person when it comes to the flowers I like. Sunflowers and lavender. So please, choose freely.”

Each of the premade arrangements had something in the you’d mentioned to him or something he learned from your mother about you. You began to rearrange them, plucking out the decorative filler flowers and creating what you wanted. It didn’t take long, you were in autopilot from his perspective. Ever observant, Hiromi noted your disinterest and lack of conversation but said nothing.

A shrine priest arrived soon after, stepping into the room with a reverence that made you stand a little straighter. Hiromi led the conversation, his voice even and respectful as he outlined the elements of the Shinto wedding ceremony to you when the priest gave him the floor—the purification rites, the exchange of vows, the three sips of sake symbolizing unity.

His explanation was detailed, precise, yet it washed over you like distant waves.

You listened, not because you cared, but because failure to do so would only cause more problems.

At some point, Hiromi’s voice cut through your quiet detachment as the priest flipped through his book. "Do you hate me?"

The priest hesitated, looking between you and Hiromi before quietly excusing himself, leaving you alone with Hiromi in the dimly lit hall.

You took a breath, turning to him, finally allowing the weight of your frustration, resentment, and exhaustion to surface. "Now isn’t the time for this.”

“When is the best time? After we’re living together? Do you hate me?” He asked again.

“What do you think?"

Hiromi did not flinch, nor did he seem particularly affected by the venom in your voice. Instead, he merely smiled, a small, knowing thing that only irritated you further.

"Go ahead," he spoke softly, folding his hands behind his back. "I’m not one to assume, say what you need to say."

You exhaled slowly, meeting his gaze. "Don’t know you well enough to hate. You’re just another name I was told to accept, another man deciding things for me. But if you want the truth, then no—I don’t hate you. I hate what you stand for. I hate what you do. I hate the ease with which you speak about all this, like it’s just another transaction, another deal to be struck between men who will never be the ones to suffer for it.”

You pressed your palms into the cold edge the table in front of you, your heart pacing faster than lightning as you tried to keep yourself in check.

“I hate that my father sleeps soundly while I am being handed off like some final desperate bid to secure his position and save his ass. I hate that my mother tells me to find peace in tradition when I have never had a say in it. I hate that I am expected to smile, to bow, to thank you for making this all seem so reasonable when none of it is. And more than anything, I hate that you can stand there, perfectly composed, while I’m the only one who seems to care that my life is no longer my own."

Silence settled between you like a drawn blade, sharp and heavy. Hiromi studied you, his expression unreadable.

Then, instead of anger or irritation, his lips curved into the faintest smile. "Go on," he said, voice as even as ever. "Say what else is on your mind."

And you did. You let the words spill out, no longer caring about composure or restraint. Every ounce of frustration, bitterness, and exhaustion laid bare between you. Through it all, Hiromi remained steady, neither defensive nor dismissive. He absorbed it, like a wall taking in the force of a storm.

When you finally fell silent, breath short and heart pounding, Hiromi only nodded. "Feel better?"

You hated that the answer was yes.

“If there is nothing else, we can wrap up for the day. I have our driver on standby and he can take you where you’d like to go next or take you home. You can finish familiarizing yourself with the ceremony without me. That may be best.”

It’s like your words fell on deaf ears. “That’s it? Nothing to add? No response to literally anything I’ve just told you?”

The faint grin that grew at the corners of his mouth made you want to punch him in his throat. He slipped a cigarette out of his breast pocket and began to walk towards the exit.

You followed close behind, angry all over again. “Fucking say something, Higuruma!”

Lighting the end, he inhaled deeply before turning to face you, making you jump as the door closing right behind you.

“No matter what I say, you are going to believe it is pure bullshit and go with your own narrative.” His dark gaze made the heat in your chest rise. “I am not one for trying to prove myself or anything to a person who believes they have me all figured out. But I am sincerely sorry.” He said contritely,

“I am sorry that I am what you have to deal with. If I had your father, I too would be miffed at the idea of being sent off to my own metaphorical slaughter for his own gain. It is not ideal.”

Nostrils flaring and eyes filling with ire, you immediately spat back. “I am not alone in being sent to slaughter. You were adopted into a life of this and face the butcher every fucking day of your life. What you think is love from the man you call Otousan is just a barbed shock collar that he has control of.”

Not a single emotion as he stared down at you. Not a single threatening signification as he turned his face to blow the smoke away from you. Just that neutral smile.

Sounds of a car coming to a stop crept up and your breath became shallow as Hiromi didn’t try to fill the silence with anything until the faint clacking of a shoe came into your hearing.

“Your driver is here. Hopefully you can stomach seeing me this evening at dinner.” Hiromi took a few paces back, giving you your personal space back and turned his attention to Yuji who smiled as he approached.

“Good afternoon, ma’am! Hiromi-san!”

“Afternoon Itadori-kun. How has the day been treating you? Enjoy your weekend off?”

The young man nodded, popping a piece of candy in his mouth as he stood in the center of you and Hiromi. “A day at the hot springs and hanging with a few friends is just what I needed. Thank you! You ready ma’am?”

“Yes. Thank you. Let me have just a quick moment with Mr. Higuruma then I’ll meet you at the car.”

Yuji nodded, slightly bowing before he turned, heading back to the car.

You waited until he was no longer in earshot range to speak.

“Whatever this charade is that you’ve got goin, you can cut it.” The space between you became smaller as you took a few paces forward. “Get real with me before we have an actual problem. If you’re going to try and make me feel comfortable just to pull the rug from under me, do it now.”

Hiromi nodded, nothing to verbalize. Instead, he extended his tongue and put his cigarette out on it. The searing filled the void of words, making your eyes go wide.

He threw the cigarette butt in the correct receptacle. “If there is nothing else, I will see you this evening for dinner. If you need to stop somewhere along the way, Itadori will be happy to stop for you.”

Without another word, he walked away, whistling a tune, blood boiling.

“This is becoming too much.”

Hiromi lied comfortably on his back on the tattoo table. He booked an appointment for a last minute “stress relief session” to finish his chest piece as he finalized wedding plans and you prepared to move into your new shared home.

“The girl? Higuruma, you’re stressing over something that can be easily remedied.” Hajime gruffed as he watched the tattooist meticulously moving the needles to work the ink into Hiromi’s skin.

"She doesn't listen, not really," Hiromi murmured, his voice steady despite the ongoing assault of the needle-riddened rod puncturing his skin. "She hears me, but she’s already decided what kind of man I am. What I’ll say. What I’ll do."

He was pissed. Pissed that he couldn’t grab you and make you listen to him. Irate that his lips couldn’t meet yours and take you right where you were to begin his apologies for being so unemotional and prudent around you. Pissed that your father didn’t allow you to meet him in a more organic way, the way he wanted.

That blurry picture was the second time he’d seen you.

The first was when you graduated from college. His father mentioned 3 families with daughters who were happy to marry within the year prior to your arrangement becoming a thing.

Too eager to flaunt the ring and the name. Too extroverted and willing to put him in positions to where he’d be fighting. Too hot headed like her father who loved to spill blood over minor inconveniences. Three options that would have him dead before he turned 40.

Then you. Detached from the life, cultured, called anyone out on their bullshit and didn’t go without having the last word if you could help it.

He knew he needed to meet you. Unfortunately, your father made it happen far sooner than Hiromi wanted.

The tattoo artist wiped his pec and Hiromi grunted. “She can’t even be in the same room as me without looking like she’s dreaming about being elsewhere.“

His tattooer worked carefully, etching new colors with a stroke while Hajime sat nearby, sipping from a glass of whiskey.

“She has to marry you because her father is bad at business and bad at keeping his cock tucked under his band like the rest of us. Can’t exactly blame the girl for wishing to be anywhere else.”

“I just want her to at least find me bearable. To be able to look me in my face and tell me that she wants me to go eat shit.”

Hiromi looked down at his chest to look over the progress. Streaks of blue were spread to his neck as the artist proceeded to fill in the waves and water drops. He closed his eyes, envisioning the look on your face when he couldn’t even muster up a response to just tell you how he felt. Not just about you, but about the life he was sorry you were about to be put into.

Hiromi exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening for a moment before relaxing. "I don’t want her fear or her silence. I just want her to let me explain myself. Even if she hates what I say, I want her to actually listen."

Hajime raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "Then make her listen."

Hiromi lifted his head, squinting one eye open as he looked at Hajime.”I’m going to let you finish your statement before I throw my glass at your head.”

“Just let it be what it is: arranged. Play it like you should and just get through the wedding. Get her home, set those rules then go find a girlfriend like the rest of us.”

Hajime bit into the piece of hard candy he had sitting in his jaw, crunching the bits before he finished. “You’ll be happier that way and she’s gonna find some unfortunate loser of a man to give her the attention she wants. The end.”

Hiromi loved his friends but Hajime was the scum of the earth when it came to women. 2 marriages and 3 illegitimate children who weren’t even with the wives. He started young and hadn’t changed.

Before Hiromi could respond, the front door creaked open.

Hajime stood up standing near the door frame and peaked around the corner before turning back to Hiromi with a cheshire grin on his face. “You’ve got business coming in.”

Hiromi signaled the artist to stop and he sat up on his elbows, seeing you round the corner.

You stepped inside the tatami room, oblivious to what you were walking into. Your eyes landed on Hiromi first—his bare skin, the expanse of ink that held a narrative you had never been privy to. The detailed dragon that wrapped around his abdomen, a blue Oni centered on his chest surrounded by waves. The flowing kanji dancing over snake scales, the symbols of loyalty and burden etched into him like a living testament to the life he led.

For the first time, your breath caught in your throat.

Hiromi turned his head slightly, catching the shift in your expression. His usual calm demeanor flickered with something unreadable before his lips quirked ever so slightly. "My apologies for not being decent.” He sat up on the side of the table. “Didn’t expect you to come by this house until the weekend.”

Y ou swallowed, forcing your gaze away from the mesmerizing display of ink. "I… didn’t know you’ d be here… I was dropping off some housewares I bought while out ."

Hajime chuckled, watching the silent exchange with amusement. "Looks like she’s finally seeing you properly, little brother."

Ignoring his friend's comment, Hiromi gestured toward an empty seat. "Sit. Stay. I won’t be much longer."

Your heart still unsteady from the image burned into your mind. The tattoos weren’t just art—they were a declaration, a history written into his skin. It’s almost as if it didn’t fit him. Now is not the time to try and humanize the man whose going to be deciding your every choice in two weeks.

You sat in the chair, hating to call yourself being in a daze, holding your bag in your lap, fidgeting as he laid back and continued on with his session.

His conversation on how he planned on having the foyer floors replaced with heated ones faded into the background for as you watched him practically melt and relax under the feeling of the needles depositing the color into his skin.

Watching his chest rise and fall had you breathing in sync with him. Only his arms free of the littered art works, veins thick and moving every-time he reached for his glass of gin.

“Do you think that will work for you? I’ll make sure you’re out of the house or at least up before the contractors gets started.”

He called your name and your gaze trailed back to his dark eyes.

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

He studied you for a moment the nodded. “Alright then. I’ll be finished in fifteen minutes then we can head out to dinner.”

For the first time since your engagement was decided, you felt curious about Hiromi. Curious enough that you needed to no more about him.

The restaurant was busy with quiet chatter as you settled into the large dining area near the back of the establishment. Your soon to be father-in-law asked you to choose a restaurant you’d like to have dinner as it would be the beginning of celebrating your “new life.”

The clinking of silverware against fine china seemed to underscore the tension that lingered at the table.

This was the first dinner since the explosive confrontation at the Higuruma family estate, and though the setting had changed, the undercurrents of unease remained the same.

Hiromi sat next to you at the head of the table, his expression composed as always, while your parents and his father exchanged polite conversation about the final details of the wedding. The rehearsal dinner menu had been chosen, the guest list confirmed, and yet, every word spoken felt like another step toward an inevitable future you wished to get away from.

You sighed, sipping your water before looking over to Hiromi. Finding his eyes on you.

“Uh.. you alright?” you asked softly.

He softened his jaw. “I will be once my father stops with the rounds of sake.”

Immediately understanding, you muffled a laugh and shook your head. “You and I both.”

Hiromi’s father waved to grab his attention and there he was being drawn into the ever flowing conversation.

You listened, nodding when expected, offering short responses when prompted. Hiromi’s father, ever the strategist, subtly dominated the conversation, ensuring everything proceeded as planned.

“I think we have successfully completed planning. I will stop by the venue tonight to make sure it will be unavailable in the days leading up to the ceremony and everything should be squared away.”

Your father followed suit, acting the part of a dutiful and mindful partner in this arrangement, while your mother carefully curated her expressions, ensuring they reflected only approval and grace.

Hiromi, however, remained focused—not just on the conversation, but on you. His gaze wavering toward you often, noting the stiffness in your posture, the way your fingers curled against your lap under the table when they weren’t lightly tapping at the stem of the crystal glass in front of you.

Then, just as the evening seemed to settle into a predictable rhythm, another presence shifted the atmosphere.

His entrance was unhurried, his steps measured as he approached the table. His presence alone commanded attention, but it was the moment his eyes found yours that the air seemed to shift.

You smiled and fought to stand while Kento went to shake your fathers hand then Hideyoshi’s before bowing his head ever so lightly to Hiromi.

Hiromi leaned back slightly, his gaze sharpening as he took in the man now standing beside your mother. There was no history between them, no past grievances or shared memories, but Hiromi had done his research. He knew who Kento was—knew his connection to you, knew why he was here.

The moment was brief, but potent. A silent assessment passed between the two men, unreadable to the rest of the table yet palpable to you.

Kento’s expression remained neutral as he inclined his head. "I hope I’m not interrupting. I was sent with gifts and a message to the Higuruma’s from Todo and his companions."

Your father, eager to maintain control of the situation, gestured toward the empty seat beside you. But not before Hideyoshi spoke up.

“Mr. Nanami! A welcoming surprise. Haven’t seen you since you took second lieutenant from Kusakabe. Join us."

Hiromi’s lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, but something knowing. Kento sat next to you and ruffled your hair.

“I hope there’s enough wine. I need a pick me up after that highway congestion I sat in.”

In Hiromi’s eyes, the night had just become far more interesting. He reached over, sticking his right hand out for Kento to shake. Intentional.

Kento accepted it with a weak, limp shake. Holding eye contact as he introduced himself. Also intentional.

“Nanami Kento. Your fiances’ friend and security when she isn’t in the know.”

“Higuruma Hiromi. Seems we’ll have to get you on payroll then.” An almost cheerful grin plastered itself on Hiromi’s face as he took his hand back.

Kento pulled a handkerchief from his internal breast pocket and wiped his hand. ‘Not necessary. Too many payrolls and people begin to think they own you.”

“Noted.”

_________

The incessant buzzing from your phone vibrating against the nightstand broke the silence of your moonlit bedroom. You hesitated for a moment before picking it up, the name 'Hiromi' glowing on the screen.

"Hello?"

His voice was calm, steady. "Did you make it home alright?"

You exhaled softly, shifting under the covers. "Yeah, I did."

There was a pause, not awkward but contemplative. "Good. Just wanted to make sure. Things were smoother than I expected. Tonight felt... manageable."

You let out a small chuckle, a breath of something close to relief. "That's one way to put it."

"I meant it," he continued, his voice softer now. "I’ll see you in the morning. Breakfast and the final ring fitting."

You wanted to bring up Kento but even you couldn’t figure out just why he couldn’t wait to bring these gifts to Hideyoshi.

Instead, you nodded, even though he couldn't see you. "Alright."

Another pause, longer this time, before he finally said, "Rest well and pleasant dreams."

"You too."

The call ended with a quiet click, and as you placed your phone back down, you couldn't shake the lingering warmth in his simple gesture.

Meanwhile, across the city, Hiromi sat at his desk, eyes scanning his laptop screen. The glow from the screen defined his face as he scrolled through the files he had gathered.

Information on Kento Nanami flashed before him—his current associates, his family ties, and most importantly, his connections beyond what was publicly known.

He hovered over a particular name, the cursor blinking as if waiting for a decision to be made before he clicked and a face he hadn’t seen in years popped up.

Hiromi leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.

"Interesting."

Hiromi picked up his cigarette and exhaled. “Seems our honeymoon will be to the states. How fun, Usami.”

[meruemhq]

Someday, Somewhere, Somehow, You'll Love Again. [Chapter 4]

Master List

Your fever had worsened overnight.

Megumi had been jolted awake by Yuji’s frantic voice. "Fushiguro! Wake up! She’s—she’s dying! What do we do?!"

Bleary-eyed, Megumi bolted upright, his mind snapping to attention. Yuji was pacing by his side of the bed, his face pale and stricken. "Her scent," Yuji stammered, running a hand through his “It’s gone bad, like... like spoiled fruit.”

Megumi rushed to your side, sharp eyes assessing the situation. He sniffed the air, just like Yujo said, your usual honey scent had soured. You were lying on your side, the Human Earthworm t-shirt that Yuji gave you, clinging to your overheated body. Even in your fevered state, your restless movements were punctuated by small whimpers, and your teeth ground audibly, creating an uncomfortable sound that made Megumi wince.

"This isn’t good," he muttered, grabbing his phone. Yuji’s panicked breathing filled the room as he hovered nearby. "Calm down," Megumi said firmly, locking eyes with Yuji. "Freaking out won’t help her. We need Shoko."

Shoko answered after four rings, her tone as calm and professional as ever, despite the late hour. "What’s wrong?"

Megumi wasted no time explaining. "Bunny’s running a fever. Grinding her teeth, sweating. Her scent’s completely off—it smells rotten."

After a pause, Shoko replied, "More than likely it's the sedatives that are still in her bloodstream.” Shoko sucked in breath from what sounded like a cigarette. “It’s her body metabolizing the leftover toxins. It’s unpleasant, but not unusual given her condition and body constitution. I’ll update her prescription. Keep her hydrated and as comfortable as possible until it passes. Ijichi can pick up the meds at sunrise."

Megumi exhaled slowly. "Anything else we should do?"

"If she’s grinding her teeth, get her something to chew on—a toy or anything silicone will work for now," Shoko added before hanging up.

When the call ended, Megumi took a deep breath and turned to Yuji. "It’s the sedatives," he explained. "Her body’s trying to purge them. I’ll send Ijichi to get the meds. For now, let’s focus on keeping her comfortable."

In the quiet of the early morning, Megumi rummaged through the storage cabinet in the kitchen. Eventually, he found an unused silicone chewing toy originally meant for his wolf dogs. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was soft, durable, and safe. He sterilized it quickly before returning to this room. He coaxed you into drinking water and gently, he placed the toy in your hand, guiding it to your mouth and you instinctively nibbled on it, finally soothing the grinding.

By the time the new medication had arrived and taken effect, you had fallen into a peaceful sleep, your breathing slow and even for the first time in hours. Megumi adjusted the blankets around you and took a step back, his sharp eyes softening as he observed your relaxed expression.

Dragging Yuji out of the room and down the hall had been harder than expected. "She needs her space, Yuji," Megumi had insisted, practically hauling his friend toward the couch. Yuji finally relented, though not without casting a lingering, worried glance back at the door.

–~

Now the two sat in the private living room of their wing, laptops and phones spread out across the coffee table. Megumi clicked through articles with a focused determination while Yuji scrolled on his phone, occasionally tossing out enthusiastic suggestions.

While Gojo’s Alpha and Beta subordinates occupied one half of the estate, the other side was dedicated to his Omegas: Megumi, Yuji, and now, you. The Omega wing of the Gojo family manor was a haven. Gojo had insisted on its design, ensuring it was entirely separate from the Alphas and Betas who worked for him. It was a sanctuary, equipped with private bedrooms, bathrooms, a plush living area, a kitchen, and secured exits. Few were allowed here without explicit permission, and Megumi had always valued the peace it provided. 

But now, as he thought about your small, vulnerable figure sleeping down the hall. You needed safety, yes—but you also needed comfort. A place to feel truly at home.

The glow of Megumi’s laptop lit up the dim living room as he sat cross-legged on the couch, his brows furrowed in concentration. Yuji, sprawled on the other end of the couch with his phone in hand, scrolled lazily through pictures of blankets and toys, his tongue sticking out in focus. Between them sat Gojo’s black credit card. “Buy whatever you want for her.” He said. “Spare no expense! Daddy Gojo’s got it covered.”

They had spent the past twenty minutes researching hybrid-approved nesting materials. The articles highlighted the importance of texture and color in creating a soothing environment for hybrids with heightened senses. Neutral tones like soft grays and pastels were recommended, as bright colors could overstimulate. Natural fabrics like cotton and bamboo were ideal, while synthetic materials were to be avoided.

"What about this?" Yuji asked, holding up his phone to show Megumi a picture of a plush bunny. It was oversized, soft-looking, and its floppy ears gave it an endearing charm.

Megumi raised an eyebrow at his obvious choice but nodded. "That could work. She needs something she can hold onto. Add it to the cart."

Yuji grinned, quickly clicking the button. "This is kind of fun. Like... we’re building her a whole little world. What else does she need?"

Megumi exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "She needs bedding. Weighted blankets, soft pillows—things that feel grounding. And we should avoid anything too scented. Her senses are probably still overloaded."

Yuji tilted his head. "You’re really good at this, you know."

"It’s not about being good at it," Megumi replied, his tone serious. "It’s about making sure she has everything she needs. She’s been through enough."

He took a big breath. “Besides, my Mother was a hybrid.” Yuji blinked, his lips parting as if to speak, but he thought better of it and nodded silently. Megumi was grateful for the lack of questions. The subject of his family—particularly his mother and the Zen'in—were topics he rarely revisited.

Yuji continued scrolling. After a moment, he held up another suggestion: stackable cloud-shaped pillows. "These are cute—and practical for nesting. She can stack them or surround herself with them."

Megumi leaned over to inspect the screen and gave a small nod of approval. "Add them."

They spent the next hour carefully curating a collection of items: soft bedding, nesting toys, calming sensory aids, and clothing. Megumi was meticulous, double-checking product descriptions to ensure everything met the standards he’d read about.

"What about clothes?" Yuji asked, holding up a picture of a lavender hoodie with bunny ears on the hood.

Megumi rolled his eyes but added it to the cart. "Fine. But make sure it’s 100% cotton."

By the time they were done, the cart was overflowing, the total displayed on the screen causing Yuji to let out a low whistle.

"Think Gojo’s going to notice we spent this much?"

Megumi smirked faintly, clicking the checkout button without hesitation. "It’s his card. If he complains, I’ll remind him it’s for her."

Yuji laughed, leaning back against the couch. "She’s going to love this. We did good, huh?"

Megumi nodded, his gaze lingering on the confirmation screen. "Yeah," he said softly. 

–~

The office chair creaked softly as Satoru leaned back, his long legs stretched out, his arms draped loosely over the armrests. The study was quiet except for the faint rustle of wind brushing against the windows. He stared out at the expansive garden, the rows of carefully tended flowers and neatly trimmed hedges bathed in the pale morning light. Normally, this view brought him peace—a sense of control over the chaos of his world. But today, it felt distant, almost foreign, like a memory slipping through his fingers.

His thoughts drifted back to the conversation he’d had with Shoko the night before, her clinical, emotionless tone cutting through truths he hadn’t wanted to hear.

"She’s not just any hybrid," Shoko had said, her voice low, her cigarette balanced delicately between her fingers. They were alone in his study, the door shut tight—far from the boys and the Hybrid girl who slept fitfully in the Omega wing.

Satoru hadn’t responded immediately. His sharp, almost playful demeanor had been replaced with something heavier. He perched on the edge of his desk, watching as Shoko tapped ash into the tray. “I need more than just vague statements, Shoko,” he said at last, his voice deceptively light, though an unmistakable edge ran beneath his words. "What nonsense have my boys gotten themselves mixed up in now?"

She exhaled, smoke curling around her like a protective veil. "You’re dealing with a conspiracy that’s a lot uglier than drugs, Satoru."

"I’m aware," he snapped, sharper than intended. His sandalwood pheromones flared, filling the room with an oppressive weight. His patience was wearing thin.

Shoko, unbothered by his growing agitation, leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “I’m sure you noticed the small scar near her left hip,” she began, her voice calm, her words deliberate.

He had noticed. When he’d run his fingers along her legs to soothe her, he’d brushed over it—a faint, healing wound. At the time, he’d dismissed it as nothing more than a scratch.

“At first, I thought it was from an old injury,” Shoko continued, “but then I realized it wasn’t just a scar. It’s a surgical site.” She paused to take another drag of her cigarette. “She most definitely had a tracker—and someone removed it.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened, his cheek twitching as he fought the wave of anger building inside him. His smirk was long gone, replaced by a grim set to his lips. He pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling the tension of a coming headache.

“She was likely taken from one of the suppliers,” Shoko went on, ignoring his growing silence. “Someone removed her from the market—but not cleanly.” Her fingers tapped ash into the tray again. “There are no markings, brandings, or tattoos on her body. No serial numbers. Whoever had her before those idiots who stole from you never intended for her to be publicly available.”

“A private sale,” Satoru concluded, his voice low.

Shoko nodded. “Exactly. Private sales mean higher security. More money.”

Satoru’s mind churned. The street gang that had taken her was just one piece of a much larger puzzle. They were too stupid to have realized what they’d stolen. You must have seemed like just another auction bunny to them—valuable, but not irreplaceable. They had been fools to steal from Gojo Satoru. Whoever they’d gotten you from would surely be looking for you. He needed to find them first.

“I ran her blood work,” Shoko said. “She’s healthy outside of the sedatives and drugs they pumped into her. No STDs, and she isn’t pregnant.”

A small relief, but it did little to soothe Satoru’s simmering frustration.

“There’s something else,” Shoko added, lighting another cigarette as she leaned back on the couch. Her eyes lazily wandered around the study, but her tone remained serious.

“There always is,” Satoru muttered, his voice heavy.

“Bunny hybrids are incredibly rare, Satoru. There aren’t too many of them in Japan. She might have been bred here, but it’s also possible she was imported—from somewhere like the Caribbean or Eastern Europe.” She brushed a bit of ash off her doctor’s coat. “Either way, they’re considered delicate, submissive, and... ideal for exploitation.”

Her words hung heavy in the air.

“I’m sure I don’t need to sugarcoat this for you,” Shoko continued, her eyes hard and unreadable. “She was most likely intended to be a sex slave or a toy for some rich bastard.”

Satoru closed his eyes briefly, his chest tightening. He had already suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed out loud made his stomach churn.

“I’ll send you some information about bunny hybrids,” Shoko said, standing and gathering her things. “You should explain the situation to Yuji and Megumi—they deserve to know.”

Satoru rose, though he found his legs felt heavier than usual. “Right. I will.”

Shoko opened the door but hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. “You should talk to Geto. He might be able to—”

“I’m not talking to Geto.”

The sharpness in his voice sent a cold wave through the room. His scent turned biting and bitter, an unspoken warning.

“Okay.” Shoko nodded once before slipping out the door, leaving Satoru alone.

Back in his chair, Satoru slumped slightly, his gaze returning to the garden. The afternoon light seemed colder now, the beauty of the garden unable to chase away the heaviness pressing down on him. His instincts were screaming at him—to protect, to provide, to fix the mess the boys had unknowingly stumbled into.

His mind drifted to the boys again. Megumi’s quiet intensity, the way he studied her every move as though trying to decipher a puzzle. Yuji’s boundless optimism, his determination to make her smile. They didn’t know the full truth yet, and Gojo wasn’t sure when—or if—he should tell them.

He swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. What kind of bullshit have his sweet Omegas gotten themselves into this time?

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in," he called, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside him.

Ijichi stepped inside, his expression polite but wary. "Nanami is back, sir."

Satoru straightened, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good. Send him in."

Satoru barely had time to gather his thoughts after Shoko left before the knock came at his study door. It was firm, deliberate. Nanami, no doubt.

“Come in,” Satoru called, his tone light, though his head was still heavy with the weight of the night’s revelations.

The door opened, and in stepped Nanami Kento, as composed as ever. His blond hair was neatly combed back, though a few strands fell stubbornly over his forehead. His signature glasses caught the morning light, reflecting the sharp focus in his hazel eyes. He was dressed in his usual attire: a crisp dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, and perfectly tailored slacks. There was an air of precision about him, as if every detail was meticulously considered.

And then there was his scent—clover and spice, warm and grounding,  he wasn’t a Prime Alpha but his scent and presence came with an edge that made his Alpha presence unmistakable. It filled the room as he crossed the threshold, bringing with it a sense of quiet authority that even Satoru could respect.

“You called for me,” Nanami said, closing the door behind him. His voice was even, his tone measured.

Satoru leaned back in his chair, spinning it lazily to face Nanami. “Welcome back, Nanamin. How was the trip?”

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, though his brow twitched slightly at the nickname. “The payment has been retrieved,” he replied simply. His voice was low, steady, every word carefully measured. “The debtor has been... educated on the importance of punctuality.”

Satoru grinned, his tone teasing. “Efficient, as always. That’s why you’re my favorite accountant.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow, his expression unamused. “I doubt you called me here to praise my accounting skills. What’s this about?”

Satoru’s grin faded as he gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Take a seat. We need to talk about the Hybrid.”

Nanami’s gaze flicked briefly toward the garden outside the window before he sat down, his posture straight, his movements measured. “Go on.”

Satoru leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “You know she’s not just some random Hybrid the boys stumbled across. She’s part of something bigger—and darker.”

He outlined everything: the scar near your hip, the removed tracker, Shoko’s findings about your health and the probable private sale. Nanami listened without interrupting, his sharp eyes narrowing as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

“And what do you plan to do with her?” Nanami asked when Satoru finished.

Satoru leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “She stays here. She’s safer here than anywhere else. We both know whoever lost her will come looking, and I’m not about to let them get their hands on her again.”

Nanami folded his arms, his tone steady but firm. “Keeping her here is a temporary solution at best. What happens when Yuji and Megumi go back to university in six weeks? They can’t watch her on their own.”

Satoru paused, the mention of the boys’ impending return to classes stirring an ache of responsibility in his chest. He had encouraged them to continue their education, not necessarily for the benefit of the Six Eyes organization, but for their futures. Yuji’s boundless curiosity and Megumi’s sharp mind deserved more than the confines of Yakuza life. A university degree meant options, opportunities—ones he’d never had, growing up under the crushing weight of Gojo family expectations.

“They’ll go back to school,” Satoru said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “and I’ve also taken steps to ensure she’s cared for while they’re away.”

Nanami tilted his head, his glasses catching the light. “Steps? Such as?”

“I’ve requested Sukuna and Toji to square up their jobs and return as early as possible,” Satoru said. His tone softened, though a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “They’ll help maintain order. They’re more than capable of handling things here.”

Nanami’s brows furrowed slightly, his scent sharpening with an undercurrent of unease. “You’re trusting Sukuna with this? And Toji? They’re not exactly the nurturing types.”

Satoru chuckled, the sound light but hollow. “They don’t need to be nurturing. Besides, she won’t be on her own. Megumi and Yuji may be busy, but they’ll still be around.”

Nanami let out a quiet sigh, his hands resting on the armrests of his chair. “You’re letting your primal instincts drive your decisions, Satoru. You’re not thinking this through rationally. Keeping her here puts everyone at risk—including the boys.” Nanami continued “Sukuna and Toji are also Prime Alpha’s or have you forgotten?”

Satoru’s scent shifted, the sandalwood growing sharper, colder. “We were caught up in this the moment they brought her home. Sending her away won’t solve the problem. Sukuna and Toji don’t need to interact with her more than necessary, they just need to keep her safe.” 

Nanami’s gaze didn’t waver, though the tension between them was palpable. “The boys are already attached to her. You’re encouraging that attachment.”

“That’s where you come in,” Satoru said, his tone lightening slightly, though the seriousness in his eyes remained. “You’re in charge of their punishment. Teach them a lesson. Make sure they understand the consequences of their actions.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed. “They should have known better. But this isn’t just about teaching them a lesson. You’re asking me to clean up a mess you allowed to happen.”

Satoru’s grin faded, replaced by a rare sincerity. “I’m asking you to prepare them for what’s coming. This isn’t just about her. It’s about keeping all of them safe.”

The room fell into silence, the weight of their conversation hanging heavily in the air. Finally, Nanami let out a quiet sigh, his scent softening slightly. “Fine,” he said, his voice measured. “I’ll assist. But I won’t meet her—not until she’s recovered more. There’s no need to overwhelm her with another Alpha presence right now.”

Satoru inclined his head, his gaze steady. “Fair enough.”

Nanami stood, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with practiced precision. He paused at the door, glancing back at Satoru. “You’d better hope your instincts are right about this.”

Satoru leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes glinting with a faint smirk. “They usually are.”

Nanami said nothing more, his footsteps fading down the hall.

[number1villainstan]

trying to think of crossovers between bnha and rgu is so funny because bnha is a story that has entirely too much faith in the very systems rgu critiques

[siriuslysatorusimping]

hiii im curious about how nanami is going to fit into this AU? are him and rinko still gonna be besties (pls say yes i need it for my soul😭😭)

im also curious if you’re going to try and fit in all the students and if yes how (if you can reveal this that is)

anyway i am SOOO EXCITED FOR LITERALLY ANYTHING YOU WRITEEE BUT NO PRESSURE OFC🫶🫶

So, again, I'm still ironing out the kinks for Nanami! But I'm really leaning toward him being a detective 👀

Think about it: sexy detective Nanami Kento with a dark past? He used to be involved with the Yakuza, but he got out but he's still got one foot in the door?

👀👀👀