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⭑.ᐟ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐭? stoner!enjin x reader You head to the rooftop of Cleaners HQ for a late night smoke. Enjin happens to be there too… (you know what it is lol) {contains smut and drug use}
You never would have thought Enjin, of all people, would be in your joint rotation. You two have been on a few missions together but never hung out in a casual setting. He’d flirt with you here and there but you never thought anything of it. That’s Enjin, after all. Nonetheless, you both happen to have the same idea of heading to the roof top (of Cleaners HQ) in the middle of the night for a smoke.
“What you doing up this late, girl?” He says with a sly smirk spreading across his face.
You hold up your lighter and said, “Came up for a smoke.”
“You smoke cigarettes?” He asks as he lights the one hanging from his lip.
“Just weed.” You say as you sit down next to the blonde.
“You don’t take me as a chick who smokes weed.” Enjin mutters while exhaling a plume of smoke. “I saw you more as a good girl.”
Your brows furrow as you place the joint between your glossed, plump lips. Enjin’s golden eyes watch them as you spark up.
“So I’m a bad girl if I smoke weed?” You exhale with the same breath you spoke.
Enjin chuckles and says, “No, you’re still good to me. This just proves that I need to get to know you more.”
Maybe it's the weed instilling false confidence in you but you decide to flirt back.
You pinch the joint in between your pointer and middle finger and hold it up to him. “You wanna hit?” You ask, blurring the lines between seductive and casual.
Your question is a double entendre and Enjin SHOULD stop his mind from wandering there. Despite his efforts, he can’t seem to shake the idea of giving you back shots right on this roof.
“I thought you’d never ask.” He says making sure to caress your hand in the process of taking the joint from you.
7 rotations, a cigarette and a joint later, Enjin has you bent over an HVAC system while he rubs the head of his dick at your entrance. He slightly groans as he pushes past your tight walls. Your stomach contracts, feeling him slowly but steadily stretch you out.
“It’s a shame we gotta make this quick.” Enjin pouts whilst wrapping his hands around your waist.
Your toes curl as he starts to move in a steady rhythm, pounding you deep and fast. Your ass recoiling with every snap of his hips. Your mouth hung open as light whimpers of his name fell from your lips.
“You're taking me so well.” He moans as he holds you in place and presses deeper into you, hitting your g spot.
His hands find their way to your breasts, fondling them with his calloused hands. Your nipples harden at his touch as your walls clench around his shaft.
“En-Enjin, I’m gonna-” you desperately whimper.
Announcing your upcoming orgasm doesn’t make him falter; He gets closer to you. His glistening torso caressing your arched back as he continues to drill into you.
“You’re gonna what?” His voice is honeyed and deep.
You struggle to answer him, the pleasure from each roll of hips forcing you to go nonverbal. He chuckles at you as if he’s not seconds away from filling you with his cum.
“You gonna tell me or will I have to make you?” He reiterates, softly, in your ear this time.
His tongue gently flicks the outer shell of your ear whilst whispering the filthiest words to you.
“I-I’m cum-” your words muffled by his hand covering your mouth.
Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as pleasure sparks under your skin and glimpses of stars take over your field of vision. Your pussy sucks him in, forcing him to paint your walls with his release.
“I was right, you’re such a good girl.” He hums in delight.
݁ᛪ༙ ft. Yakuza AU ➜ Yakuza husband! Oliver Aiku x Yakuza wife! Reader x Yakuza fiancé! Ryusei Shidou x Female! Reader
݁ᛪ༙ summary. In the Yakuza world, it’s easy to be corrupted. Bound by crime, power and forbidden desire, loving a yakuza comes at a cost. When choices intertwine, secrets spill… risks are made. So with a cheating husband, a faithful yakuza wife, an engaged fiancé and an innocent civilian—what consequences will they face?
݁ᛪ༙ co-written by. @nakidoriii
݁ᛪ༙ tags in this ch. minor alcohol consumption, stalking, arguing, emotional turmoil, angst, graphic depictions of torture, violence, descriptions of blood, mutilation, kidnapping/abduction, graphic language, minor mention of previous intercourse, foreshadowing death, domestic moment, unintentional deceitfulness
݁ᛪ༙ word count. 4.5k
݁ᛪ༙ a note from yours truly. So… we were DEFINITELY meant to upload in February 💔 we’ve both had circumstances come up. But please enjoy! — 🐉 ⋆｡°·𓂃🖊
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[y/n] is MOMO
Sitting alone in his office, on the top floor of his family’s casino, Oliver’s fingers curled around a glass of whiskey, the ice long since melted into a cloudy amber. He hasn’t touched it in minutes much less touched anything at all.
Though, his foot won’t stop moving. The heel his shoe relentlessly thumps against the marble floor; an unconscious rhythm that matches the restless pulse in his chest.
A stack of untouched paperwork sits beside his phone, the usual routine of things that holds his attention now means nothing to him.
Because all he can fixate on is you.
Where you were. Who you were with. What you had done.
He finally brings the glass to his lips out of habit, his throat working as he swallows, barely tasting the burn anymore. Before he can spiral any further, his phone rattles against the desk.
Oliver swiftly snatches it, the screen lighting up to reveal at exactly 5 AM, Barou happens to be the one to finally break him out of a trance.
“Anything new?”
On the other end, Barou’s voice is steady yet professional as always, his line of sight fixed on the front of the hotel. “Mori-sama just walked out of the hotel and called a taxi. The man she was with didn’t leave with her though.”
Oliver goes still, his jaw gradually tightening as the information settles over him like cold water. His focus drifts to the glass in his hand, swirling it once with an unreadable expression and pondering mind.
“You’d think she’d need to come home after the night she’s had.” He whispers quietly, more to himself than to Barou.
His thumb glides against the screen, accessing your location without thinking. The little icon begins to move, drifting away from the bar and toward the familiar streets.
Something ugly twists in his chest; jealousy, relief, anger, all tangling together until he can’t tell one from the other.
Yet, despite everything, the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Atta girl,” he murmurs under his breath. “Come on home.”
Oliver continues, already pushing back his chair. “I’ll meet up with you after I talk with her. Keep me updated.”
“Heard.” The line finally hangs up.
Oliver rises from his desk, reaching for his coat draped over the back of his chair. As he slides it on, his mind begins rehearsing a dozen different versions of what he’ll say to you.
He imagines you walking through the front door without an ounce of shame.
The way you’d avoid his heavy gaze, or maybe meet them with that stubborn fire he loves and hates.
What would he say?
That he was sorry? That he’d change? That he missed you so much he couldn’t breathe in that house without you?
The mere thoughts cause his grip on his phone to tighten.
A part of him wants to pull you into his arms and pretend none of this ever happened. To breathe you in, feel your fingers in his loose hair, hear your soft voice that calms every contemplation in his head.
He misses you terribly.
And that’s the problem.
Because every part of him, the louder, uglier part is burning with rage.
He could forgive you; he knew he could. One word from you, a couple of tears, a shaky “I’m sorry” and he’d fold.
But what fun would that be?
If you wanted to act like you’d forgotten who you belonged to, then he’ll be more than happy to remind you.
— ݁ᛪ༙
“Of fucking course, he’s on his way home.”
The words slip from your lips as you stare at Oliver’s location crawling across your phone screen, moving faster than you expected. It’s like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
You toss your phone onto the couch beside you, now heading straight for the liquor cabinet. If he wants a confrontation at six in the morning, you're going to need something stronger than patience.
The wine pours smoothly into the glass, your hands steady yet your chest feels tight, like you’re already choking on the words that’s coming.
You don’t bother changing out of the dress you wore the night before. Your evidence is one that you want him to witness, letting him imagine whatever he wants, letting him take in what you don’t regret.
You barely have time to relax your body back onto the couch before the front door opens. The action is more forceful than gentle, the frame shaking where it harshly connects to the wall. Every slow, predatory step taken disregards his usual routine of removing his shoes and leaving it by the entrance.
That alone tells you everything about his mood.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here.” It’s only then that Oliver storms into the living room. His coat is still on, eyes burning in a way that almost feels disturbed. “Where the fuck were you last night?”
You lift the glass to your lips, taking your time with the sip, spitefully letting the silence stretch where you roll your eyes as a means to avoid his burning gaze.
“Don’t come in here and act like you didn’t do the same shit to me for two years.”
Oliver’s jaw tightens, a vein now protruding that ticks more than once. Your casual, smooth response results in his teeth grinding at your defiance.
“Where. Were. You.” He repeats, each word drops low and heavy, spaced out and punctuated like a threat.
The delicate wine glass lazily swirls in your grasp as you comfortably press your back against the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “Went to a lounge.”
“With who?”
“A friend.”
The silence that follows changes the properties in the air, thick yet tight to where it can’t be mended.
Oliver lets out a sharp exhale through his nose, closing the fragile distance between you. Each step is heavier than the last, his eyes boring into you the way a murderer sizes up their next victim.
Neither of you break your gaze, locking in firmly.
However, you return a bored, mundane expression that contrasts his. Even when his imposing frame overshadows you, even when his fingers brush along your jawline: you don’t flinch in the slightest.
You know better than to give him that satisfaction.
The touch is gentle, almost affectionate, the same sensation used to calm you now feels like a leash.
“I know I cheated on you,” his voice drips with warmth, his tone almost honeyed to mask the poisonous within. “But whenever you asked me who I was with, I was honest.”
His attempt at tenderness is shattered, striking his hand away from your face is where you finally draw the line.
“Okay? Do you think your honesty made it hurt less?” Your voice sharpens, emitting a bitter laugh. “You don’t give a fuck about me anymore. You spent years lying to me about who you are.”
His lips are sealed, completely mute where he doesn’t utter a rebuttal
Not because he doesn’t have something to say; but because the truth stings deeper than he expected. Oliver not fathoming how you don’t feel loved is beyond him.
In his belief, making you a priority in his life whilst committing acts of adultery should’ve been something you accepted from the start of your marriage.
You rise from the sofa, meeting him eye-to-eye.
“But I know who you are. You’re a coward,” you continue. “A fraud. You never loved me and you wouldn’t do shit for me if you didn’t feel guilty about cheating.”
His composure cracks for a fraction of a second, his voice quivering as if he’s been wounded. “Do you really believe I don’t love you?”
The tremor in his calloused fingers brushes his disheveled locks, pacing like a caged animal. “The shit I do for you is not out of guilt. It’s out of love, everything I do for you is out of love.”
“Oh please.” Your bitter laugh, the harsh scoff easily leaving your lungs, how you confidently cut him off with your sharp words is what causes betrayal to crawl up his spine.
“I would move heaven and hell for you,” he grits out, his tone hardening once more. “You know that. I make sure you have everything you could desire and this is how you act in return?”
Every syllable cracks through the gaps of the house, his resolve disintegrating. “I’m going to repeat myself one more time. Who were you with?”
Oliver’s posture doesn’t falter when you finally slam your wine glass down on the coffee table, his blazing eyes catching the red liquid sloshing violently.
And even when you step right into his space, close enough that he can feel your breath, he doesn’t react.
Though, the shimmer in your now glassy eyes mirrors the burden you’ve been carrying for so long, both vulnerable yet agonizing that stuns Oliver in his place.
“I did what you love to do to me.”
Your raw confession hangs between you that marks the question.
Was it worth it for either of you?
The feeble lies, distancing from one another, becoming opportunistic for a night of pleasure with those who you’d never claim to yearn for.
Was all of it worth it in the end despite your minds now being in turmoil?
He peers into your resolute gaze, like a blade twisted in his guts and he’s waiting for you to pull and let him bleed out.
Who knows how long you were both going to just stand there for. Questionable resignation, disbelief and sorrow briefly swarms your clouded headspace before his phone rings out.
Despite the interruption, Oliver doesn’t pull his focus away from you as he fumbles inside his pocket. The screen lights up between his fingers and his expression hardens.
Barou. Well, of course.
As always, duty calls and the world doesn’t stop for you all because your husband’s adultery brought you to your final limits.
Though, he stares at the screen for a moment longer than necessary, torn between finishing this and handling the business that’s led to this conflict.
“I have to handle business,” he mutters, already turning away, coldness slipping back in his tone. “We’re not done having this conversation so stay your ass here and wait for me.”
You huff under your breath, devoid of any humour. However, the crack in your voice betrays the tiniest tremble attempting to escape.
“Typical.”
— ݁ᛪ༙
In the shoes of someone who’s quite literally made the worst mistake of their life, the first thing Nakimaru registers is the black void blinding his sight, the heavy burlap sack swallowing his head.
The second is the sensation of drowning. Striking, cold water being dumped all over his frame, clogging his sense of hearing for what feels like eternity for him until he’s finally freed from his submersion.
The third is that he’s no longer in the comfort of the hotel room, relaxing right after he was done fucking you senseless.
Rather, the singular light bulb gently swaying within the warehouse, manages to highlight Barou and Sendou flanking a man with an unreadable expression plastered on his face.
A sickening smile curves upwards that doesn’t quite reach his swirling, two-toned eyes as he holds Nakimaru's baffled gaze.
“Good morning, Nakamura Riku.” Oliver sings, both his hands clasp together in a tight, unyielding hold behind his back as he looms over Nakimaru’s restricted frame.
“Whatever the fuck you think I did, I didn’t do it.” His voice heightens with a sharp snarl, desperately thrashing against his restraints. But his enraged efforts do little to free him, the tight ropes adding more tension as it burns the skin on his wrists.
An amusing glint flashes in the depths of Oliver’s orbs. Though, a mocking scoff retreats from his lips. “Oh, I know you did it. You’re guilty.”
The word hangs heavy between them. One believes it’s accusatory. The other knows it’s a fact.
Silence stretches long enough for Nakimaru to hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Oliver’s admission is deafening, hanging in the tense air all while he and Nakimaru exchange a firm, unwavering and threatening glance.
“Do you know why you're here?”
“No, I don't.” Nakimaru forces confidence in his voice, staring Oliver down. “All I know is you got the wrong guy–”
“No, no nooo,” he sings, clicking his tongue softly. "We got the right guy.”
Oliver’s smile widens, a predator’s grin that shows a hint of teeth. He takes a slow step closer, the sound of his shoes on the concrete floor echoing in the suffocating space.
“You got your dick wet last night, right? A foreign woman with a little waist, perfect ass?”
“Yeah… what does that have to do with anything?”
A knowing glance is exchanged between Barou and Sendou, their eyes narrowing in unison. Oliver masks his voice in a sweet tone, a smile spreading on his face that doesn’t match the intensity of his eyes.
“That was my wife.”
“What? She told me she was single and visiting from America...” his posture stills, as if the weight of Oliver’s words paralyses him more than the restraints. “I had no idea man–!”
“Well, she lied and got you all caught up.” Oliver’s feet move before his mind does, orbiting around Nakimaru’s helpless and tense form.
The swaying lightbulb casts his shadow, long and distorted across the concrete floor. He stops directly in front of him, leaning down until his face is level with his.
A knife is slowly drawn from the holder on his waist, the steel glinting coldly in the dim light. “You’re a part of the Kage Clan, no?”
His lips fall open yet, only the sound of his shaky breath is his response. Stating the truth is a conflicting debate in his mind on whether it’ll ease his situation or make it worse.
“Yes, I am.” His response matches the depths of his irises, desperately earnest with a flicker of fear beneath them.
Oliver’s smile doesn’t waver, but his eyes sharpen, the amusement fading into something colder, more calculating. He taps the flat of the blade against his own palm, a soft, rhythmic sound whispering in the silence.
“So you must know about the Hebi-Kai?”
“Y-Yes, they are one of the top Yakuza families.”
“Good job lil genius!” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re looking at the head of the Hebi-Kai.”
Recognition finally dawns in, the real fear following Nakimaru’s blown, wide eyes as he thrashes in the metal chair he’s bound to. The ropes bite deeper into his wrists with each frantic movement.
“L-look, I-I didn't know!! I swear, sir. I would have never done something so stupid!”
Oliver studies him carefully, the knife still tapping against his palm. Though, at this rate, Nakimaru’s feeble excuses do little to calm nor cease the cold, anger boiling behind his twisted soul.
In a motion too fast to detect, Oliver reaches forward, his free hand gripping his face while forcing him to hold eye contact, his fingers digging deep into his cheeks.
The stinging, cold metal barely punctures his skin, simply resting below his Adam’s apple, a constant reminder of what’s to come. “Oh, but you did. Tell me Riku… did you stick these fingers in my wife?”
The pressure on Nakimaru’s jaw is immense, making it impossible to form words even if he wanted to.
“Come on, Riku. Answer the question,” Oliver grits his teeth, the false sweetness dissolving from his voice. “Did you?”
Nakimaru swallows harshly, an accidental reflex that causes the lump in his throat to jolt against the blade. “Y-yes…”
Oliver releases his grasp with a sharp shove, pushing his head back against the chair. He jerks his head, a silent signal delivered to both Barou and Sendou.
Without a word, Barou moves forward, now undoing the ropes binding Nakimaru’s wrists to the chair. Sendou on the other hand, drags a heavy, cold metal table over, the screech of its legs on the harsh ground echoing.
“Which fingers?”
Barou pins his newly freed wrist down onto the cold metal surface, his grip like iron.
The colour drains from Nakimaru’s face, knowing his fate is sealed, far beyond just losing a finger or two. Knowing that there’s no version of this that ends in his favor. That devastating truth erupts the tears welling in his eyes, blurring the sight of Oliver’s impassive face.
“Not telling me will make this worse on you. I know you used a maximum of two fingers, she’s pretty tight,” Oliver’s voice is too calm, his eyes going distant. “Now tell me which ones.”
And maybe it’s the naivety flickering behind Nakimaru’s glossy irises, pulling the sympathy card at the very last second as a means to prove his innocence.
Or maybe it’s the growing fear that possesses him to finally answer.
“Pointer and middle, sir.”
His shaky sentence barely finishes, Oliver’s hand now moving in a blur. The blade of his knife isn’t brought down with a chop, but rather pressed and dragged with a brutal, surgical precision, tearing through the skin and ligaments of his pointer and middle fingers.
A wet, sickening crunch fills the air, though Barou doesn’t flinch. His hands are like vices, keeping his wrists pinned to the table as oozing blood and flecks of flesh splatter onto his own rough skin and the cold steel.
“Oh I hope it was worth it!” Oliver cackles, roaring over Nakimaru’s ear-splitting screams, his face a mask of a sadistic grin. “Did she cum on these fingers?”
Nakimaru screams a raw, guttural sound of agony, bouncing off the bare warehouse walls, a cry of pure, unadulterated agony. Blood pours from the stumps of his fingers, pooling on the metal table, dripping onto the concrete floor.
Oliver winces slightly, wiping his blade clean on a cloth Sendou hands him. “All that noise is giving me a headache. Sendou.”
Sendou steps forward immediately, grabbing a greasy rag from his back pocket before stuffing it into Nakimaru’s mouth, muffling the screams into choked desperate gags.
His involuntary flinch doesn’t cause Oliver to retreat when leaning in close. His tone, the plans he has is a soulless, twisted promise for what he has . “You probably had your filthy hands all over her gorgeous body. Looks like I’ll have to take all 10 fingers.”
— ݁ᛪ༙
[y/n] is LYRA
Morning settles softly over your apartment, sunlight slipping through the curtains in thin golden lines that stretch across the floor. It catches Ryusei's strands, painting the sharp angles of his face in gentleness, almost soft enough to forget the kind of world he belongs to.
Ryusei doesn’t say anything at first.
He just… watches.
From where he leans against the counter, every movement you make feels intentional to him. There’s something hypnotic about it: the quiet rasp of kitchen utensils, how you move with ease, like you belong in this space that he never quite has anywhere else.
It all feels domestic in a way he’s never truly experienced before.
“How do you like your eggs?” Your voice is light as you bend down to grab a carton from the fridge.
Ryusei’s gaze dips to the plush curve of your ass for a second too long, unapologetically before he clears his throat and leans back slightly, dragging his attention elsewhere. “Not boiled.”
A quiet laugh slips from you, soft and amused. “Let me guess, you like it runny?”
“Yep,” a grin tugs at his lips, pushing himself off the counter before lazily wandering over. “I’d just eat the egg right out of the shell if I could.”
You don’t hear him approach, only feeling his presence loom over your frame.
His hands settle on your hips like it’s second nature, solid yet unhurried, thumbs brushing lightly against the fabric of your shirt. He leans into you, resting his chin languidly on your shoulder, pulling you just slightly back into the hard planes of his chest.
The contact itself is warm, familiar in a way that has your head shaking, trying to ignore how easily you melt into it.
“How did you even find out you liked raw eggs?” You ask, pretending to focus on cracking one into the pan.
“I went to South Korea for my 18th birthday,” his voice is lower, more relaxed, his fingers toying idly with the hem of your shirt as he hums. “I tried a dish called Yukhoe. You ever heard of it?”
You glance at him over your shoulder. “No, I don’t think so. What is it?”
“It’s raw beef seasoned to perfection and then topped off with a raw egg,” his voice dips marginally, almost nostalgic. “My mouth’s starting to water just thinking about it.”
You physically recoil, scrunching your nose. “I could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that about you.”
He chuckles against your shoulder, the vibration sending a small, unwanted shiver down your spine.
“Ahh, it’s not that bad!” He protests, grabbing an egg from the same carton. “I only got sent to the hospital once. I swear food tastes better when there’s a risk.”
You shoot him a look of uncertainty, his hands quickly raised in a placating gesture. “I won’t eat it raw. I’ll cook it just for you.”
He barely fries it, two minutes if that. The yolk still glistens when he slides it onto his plate, clearly satisfied. The corner of your lips twitch slightly but you don’t comment, plating your own food before the two of you settle on the floor by the coffee table.
Sitting across from each other, steady inhales and gentle chewing fills the space between you, not a single word is exchanged.
Every gulp you initiate anchors you from not acknowledging how strange this feels.
The presence is more comfortable than awkward. Maybe too comfortable.
But right now, it feels right.
“Sorry for showing up unannounced yesterday.” He speaks again after a few bites, not quite looking at you.
You don’t look up, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “You’re not sorry, you would do it again.”
His focus pins you in place, a grin breaking through instantly. “You’re right, I would.”
Silence falls once more, but this time it carries weight. The heavy kind with an unanswered thought that it only feels right to ask.
“Do you have any regrets?”
He pauses, but not for long. Just enough to think, devoid of any hesitation.
“No, not in the slightest,” Ryusei finally responds, voice steady and certain. “My relationship with Hime was strictly business. I tried to make it work for years but you can’t force a connection between two people.”
An exhale leaves his lungs, his gaze dropping to his plate briefly before lifting back to you. “Hime cheating on me was just the catalyst to my freedom. Even though it’s fleeting, I love how it feels.”
You study him quietly, really studying him as if you’re the first in your bloodline to ever witness the raw confession seeping from him. For someone who was engaged for 7 years, there’s not a trace of bitterness in his voice. Just acceptance and tired honesty.
“What would you need to do to keep that new found freedom?”
“Stop being a yakuza.”
“Would you?”
Ryusei tilts his head, considering a thoughtful, firm answer.
“I don’t mind being a Yakuza,” he admits. “I like being above the law. I just hate the restraints that come with it.”
That you understand, comprehending more than he probably expects. “How so?”
“All because Hime fucked up doesn’t mean that I’m free to marry whoever I want,” he continues. “My old man will start looking for suitors the minute he hears the news. When really, the decision should be mine.”
“What would you do if it was your decision?” You ask before you can stop yourself.
The second the question leaves your lips, you almost regret it.
Though, it’s too late. His eyes bores into yours, the intensity clear as day, a vision already painted of another life where his freedom of choice is the exception.
“I’d have a really hot wife and have a ton of kids.” A genuine smile breaks on his face, gradual and confident. “I wouldn’t force my lifestyle on them but I wouldn’t hide what I am from them either.”
You blink once, twice, completely caught off guard by how easily his perception slips from his tongue.
“That would be kinda hard…” he pauses, brows furrowing slightly. “I don’t know how I’d do it. But I’d do it.”
His blind determination towards having his way erupts a quiet laugh escaping you, your tone more fond than belittling. “I think you’d make a good dad just based on your answer."
Your response retreats before you can stop them and something in his expression changes. The soft gaze that holds yours in a trance-like state, the corner of his mouth curling with warmth and appreciativeness.
“If you think that,” he leans in just slightly, voice dropping low. “Then make me one.”
“Oh God..” You groan, covering your face for a second as heat floods your cheeks, trying to steady yourself is a measly attempt.
Because beneath the lighthearted joke, somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s the truth.
“Can’t score goals you never shoot.” His chuckle is smooth but it manages to get lost in your contemplation.
Being by his side, stepping into his world and taking the title that was once Hime’s. A part of you urges to keep being delusional. The other pins you on being logical.
What if you let it become something more?
Could you be content with being his wife?
Seeing where this goes between you seems playing it safe, the better option.
But what’s the point if you know it will lead to nothing?
“Do you have any regrets?” Ryusei asks, snapping you out of your spiral.
You gaze upon the man who feels like freedom. But he comes with chains you don’t quite understand. You consider lying, just partially. Mostly as a means to not let this peaceful morning go to waste.
“No, I’m glad you came over,” a measured smile fills your face that doesn’t quite reach your irises. “This is all so new to me and I think we should take it slow. One day at a time type of thing.”
And that much is true, even if it scares you, even if it reflects the anxiety in your chest. Yet, behind those curved lips is the truth.
There's more you could say, more that you could let on, more to open up if the honesty didn’t clog your throat to the brim.
But for now, it’s all you can give him.
Because after all the sneaking around, the deliberate subtle touches, hands roaming endlessly and finally having him make you melt beneath him last night.
How ridiculous would you sound to utter that him being a yakuza will affect your life in the long run?
Ryusei studies you for a second too long, trying to read everything past your response. But he doesn’t press further, content with the half-truth of your words.
Instead, he throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. His grip is firm, yet not tight enough to feel suffocating.
“Took the words right out of my mouth. We can work out the logistics later.”
Yeah no, so what we’re NOT going to do is be goddamn lazy, disrespectful and a bloody BUM by stealing + copying word for word on someone else’s work.
You guys must’ve thought that just because I’m inactive meant I wasn’t going to say shit 🤨 THINK AGAIN.
@luvleaa if you wanted guidance on how to write better, you could’ve easily asked @nakidoriii or any other mutual writers because that would’ve been the most appropriate option.
Situations like this are exactly why some writers lose motivation to write fics because people like you just go stealing other’s work that they put effort into and then have the bloody audacity to take all the credit.
I have no more to say apart from you’re genuinely a fucking bum, a lazy shit and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been stealing fics from other creators ‼️
Guys I can’t stress this enough, if you know what’s right, PLEASE REPORT @luvleaa
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Hi everyone! It has been brought to my attention that @luvleaa took one of my one shots (WORD FOR WORD) and posted it as their own.
I take this very seriously considering that I put a lot of time into my craft. Please report this page. I don’t now how many fics this person has copyrighted but it has to stop now.
I’m so sorry for my hiatus these past few months. As most of you know, I had an insanely invasive surgery planned this month. I had the surgery last week and I’m healing great!!! I’ll be out of work for all of February, which means expect some updates on a lot of my active fics <3
If there’s a fic that you’d want me to update, leave a comment or DM me! I plan to update all of them but I have no idea where to start.
݁ᛪ༙ ft. Yakuza AU ➜ Yakuza husband! Oliver Aiku x Yakuza wife! Reader x Yakuza fiancé! Ryusei Shidou x Female! Reader
݁ᛪ༙ summary. In the Yakuza world, it’s easy to be corrupted. Bound by crime, power and forbidden desire, loving a yakuza comes at a cost. When choices intertwine, secrets spill… risks are made. So with a cheating husband, a faithful yakuza wife, an engaged fiancé and an innocent civilian—what consequences will they face?
݁ᛪ༙ a note from yours truly. Technically this is my first post of 2026 (sorry I’m only now joining the server gang 🥀) but nonetheless happy new year! Also hope that everyone had a nice holiday period and made some NY resolutions 🙂↔️ enjoy another ch. of more drama — 🐉 ⋆｡°·𓂃🖊
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[y/n] is MOMO
You packed a week's worth of clothing, all your skin care, you even took some of your jewelry. You wanted Oliver to know that you were over his excessive cheating.
You threw your things in your car and headed to your parents home. You were happy to be spending some time with them but deep down you knew they were the best distraction from him.
You knew your mother would take up your days with a sort of spa treatment or shopping. And that your father would have you up at dusk doing yoga or sparring with him. At night, your favorite toy, Nakamaru Riku, had your undivided attention.
He didn’t have to do much to keep it, he was gorgeous. A prominent jawline, sunken eyes, and plump lips, graced the 25 year old man's face. He was a couple inches shorter than your husband but he made up for those inches elsewhere.
You got to know him over the week. Your conversations started off casual with a couple of selfies sprinkled in. It didn’t take long before you found yourself on a phone call with him. Hearing his deep but soft voice say your name.
“When can I see you, Ivy?”
… Your alias name. You’ve been getting to know Nakamaru but he’s been getting to know someone else, A foreigner from the States that works in marketing and sales. She’s visiting Japan for work.
It didn’t take long for you to become the forefront of his mind. Every cute selfie you sent him pushed him closer to asking you out. You had to play your cards right though. You knew your husband was watching your location, it was the only thing giving him peace of mind since you both went no contact. You knew if you were reckless the fun would be over. So you waited the whole week to see Nakamaru.
Day one, when Oliver realised what you were doing, he didn’t bat an eye. He actually found it amusing. His competitiveness consumed him, making him not contact you. “She’ll contact me in a few days and this little act will be behind us.”
Day two, He worked. He made sure to keep himself busy, joining Barou and Sendou on their runs. His right-hand men were concerned by his actions. They could tell something was off.
Day three, He cancelled his session with his favorite girl. Because he’s “just not feeling it lately.”
Day four, he invites Barou and Sendou for a night out drinking. He was fully distracted until Sendou unknowingly asked, “Could Mori-Sama not make it?” Oliver has no choice but to tell them about your recent acts of protest. One thing leads to another and he finds himself drunkenly admitting that he misses you.
Day five. He sulks. He lays in bed and thinks about you. Staring at the pictures that were hung all over the house you two once shared. “I should text her but I have no idea what to say.”
Day six. He breaks down, sending you multiple messages every hour. Begging you to come home, telling you how sorry he is. He feels pathetic for letting it get this far.
Day seven. That evening he decided to take action when he checked your location and saw you were at an upscale bar on your family’s turf, well past midnight.
This is the first night he’s checked your location and you weren’t at your parents house. He fletched his teeth as he realized what was happening.
“She’s cheating on me.” Oliver mumbles.
He quickly dials Barou's number, knowing he would answer even if it was past midnight.
“Everything okay, Boss?” Barou says as he answers the phone.
“I just sent you a location. Go there and follow [y/n] for the night. I want updates and a full report. If you see her with a man, you know what to do.” Oliver demands.
Before Barou even responds, he gets a notification that 20,000 yen has been deposited in his account. Oliver was serious. Barou knew to follow his instructions and not ask too many questions.
“You think you can do that for me?” Oliver asks.
Barou nods his head and says, “Yes, sir. I’ll contact you hourly with updates.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you.” Oliver sings before he hangs up the phone.
He paces around his living room, wondering who you're with and hoping you don’t get too comfortable with them. “Get a fucking grip.” Oliver mumbles to himself.
The vibration of his phone pulsing in his pockets is what snaps him out of his internal conflicts. The first time round, he ignores it, brushing it off as a means to focus solely on you.
But the second the vibration comes running back, he has no choice but to see who’s bothering him. And to his discovery, his brows furrow in confusion yet curiosity.
Hime
You free tonight?
We have business to discuss.
Location: Hotel Lotus, West Tokyo
— ݁ᛪ༙
“This better be good.” Oliver says as he pulls a small recording device out of his leather jacket pocket.
He clicks the small red button, ensuring that it's recording before placing it back inside his pocket. He suspects Hime is onto something and feels the need to document whatever bullshit she’s on.
In all the years that he’s known her, she’s never been the type to get her hands dirty with yakuza work. It’s typically her parents or younger brother who make moves for her family which is why Oliver has his suspicions. What could Hime possibly need from him?
He swiftly opens his driver's door before slamming it shut, producing a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He flicks the lighter, the small flame illuminating his face before bringing the cigarette to his lips.
The tip glows a warm orange as he inhales deeply, his free hand scrolling on his phone, his eyes alert while checking for more updates from Barou.
Barou
She's still inside. There’s a man present.
Oliver smacks his teeth as his eyes scan the text message. He was hoping you wouldn’t make any bad decisions but you were unfortunately serious about making him suffer.
“My sadistic wife.” He mumbles to himself.
He stubs the last remaining of his cigarette onto the concrete ground with the bottom of his sole, his line of sight now following the front entrance of Hotel Lotus.
“Irasshaimase, Aiku-sama. Saijōkai no 801-gōshitsu e okoshi kudasai. Kin-sama ga omachi shite orimasu. (Welcome, Aiku. Please go to the top floor, Room 801. Kin Hime is waiting for you there.)” The receptionist says as she bows in his direction.
“Arigato Gozaimasu. (Thank you)” Oliver says as he continues his journey to Hime’s room.
He checks his phone one more time in the elevator, not even caring about this conversation with Hime. His mind is totally on you and it will be until he gets to the bottom of what you're doing. Once he gets out of the elevator, he walks to the room knocking a few times on the door.
Hime answers wearing a red tulle robe that caresses the ground. “Come in.” she says as she opens the door.
Oliver stares at Hime confused by her attire but doesn’t question it; they are at a love hotel after all.
“Take a seat. Make yourself at home.” She says as he makes his way into the dimly lit hotel room.
“I can’t stay for long so let’s make this quick.” Oliver says sliding off his shoes at the entrance and facing them towards the door.
“Do you want something to drink?” She says ignoring his comment.
“Whiskey on the rocks.” He answers as he sits down on the ottoman near the couch.
He watches her closely making sure she doesn’t do anything to his drink. Hime notices and says, “You like what you see, Aiku?.”
“I’m just making sure you're not poisoning my drink.” Oliver bluntly responds.
She hands him the drink and says, “And why would I do that?”
He takes the glass and sets it on the table next to him. He takes in his surroundings, seeing if there are any cameras or planted microphones. Oliver fully believes he is being set up.
“Aren’t you going to try the drink I made for you?” She whines, snapping him out of contemplation.
He can’t find one camera and he knows that Hime isn’t wearing a wire; she’s practically naked.
“Oliver,” she hums, strutting over to him. “Did you hear me?” she says sweetly as she plays with the knot that’s holding her robe closed.
His brows raise once he notices her gesture. “What the hell are you doing?” Oliver blurts out.
“You’ve been so stressed lately. I just wanted to be a good friend and check up on you,” the red tulle slowly slides down her shoulders, only revealing her collarbone. “Maybe I could relieve some of that stress?”
Her body is draped in red lace, her robe puddling around her ankles as she stands before Oliver. He didn’t hide the fact he was checking her out. He even took a few sips of his drink as he observed her in silence. He wanted to see what she was going to do.
Hime rolls her eyes, annoyed that she has to make yet another move on Oliver. Doesn’t he fuck anything?
She closes the gap between them, settling herself on his lap, a teasing lilt lacing in her voice. “Just say the word and I’m all yours, Aiku.”
“You think I’ll fuck anything, huh?” Oliver questions and he puts his glass down. “Are you serious right now?”
She starts to panic but tries one last attempt. She gets off his lap and gets on her knees instead. She looks up at Oliver with pleading eyes and says, “I’m so serious.”
Oliver takes a breath trying to show some sort of patience. He would never put his hands on a woman but Hime is pushing him past his morals. Did she really think this shit was going to work?
“Get the fuck up.” He demands, his voice dangerously calm, a vein now ticking on his temple.
His demeanor changed for the worst. You could cut the tension in the air. She can’t even look him in the eye, completely intimidated by the yakuza boss. Her emotions get the best of her as she slowly stands and says, “A-aren’t you sick and tired of Ryusei fucking your wife? You care don’t you?.”
Oliver swiftly gets up from the chair, causing Hime to flinch. He picks up her robe off the floor and throws it at her. “My wife isn’t fucking Ryusei. She’s never fucked him. If you paid attention, you’d know that my wife isn’t who you should be worried about.” He said through the grit of his teeth.
Hime didn’t dare to say anything else to Oliver. She knew if she said anything more she would regret it. However, she couldn’t stop herself from mumbling, “Please don’t tell Ryu….”
A harsh scoff leaves his lungs, shaking his head without meeting her gaze and heading straight for the door. “You’re fucking pathetic.”
Harsh curses freely roam from under his breath the closer he gets to his car, sparking up another cigarette whilst his phone nestles in his other hand, impatiently waiting for a particular person to answer.
Ryusei’s voice is low, teasingly sultry, feigning clueless given that he deliberately let his phone ring three times before answering. “You’re calling me pretty late….”
Oliver chuckles and says “I am. Your fianceé just tried to seduce me.”
Ryusei sits up in his chair and processes the information. He couldn’t hold back the smile that was beginning to form on his face. “Don't fuck with me, Aiku.” He mumbles.
“I’m serious. I’ll send the screenshot and the voice recording I got. She sent me this message saying she wanted to talk business at one of her parents' love hotels. The minute I get there, she starts stripping. She wanted to get back at you and [y/n] for cheating that you both never did. And get this, she had the nerve to beg me not to tell you.” Oliver admits, huffing a plume of smoke from his lungs.
Ryusei scoffs at how pathetic Hime is and says, “She couldn’t have picked a more perfect time to fuck up.”
“Oh? You got another chick on the roster? Ryu, you sly dog….” Oliver purrs.
“Eh, not too much. I kept my dick in my pants for the entirety of my relationship with Hime.” He wasn’t kidding. Every time he and Lyra met up, his dick DID stay in his pants. However, his hands did not stay to themselves.
“Riiiight.” Oliver says, rolling his eyes.
“I appreciate you telling me, man.” On the other end of the line, Ryusei has already risen from his couch, swiftly slipping on a shirt over his bare frame with purpose.
What could he possibly be getting ready for in the middle of the night?
“Of course. It’s the least I could do since you spent so many nights comforting my wife...” Oliver trails off.
Ryusei notices the change in his demeanor once you're mentioned. He knew you were up to no good and it had Oliver in pieces.
“You alright?” Ryusei half-haphazardly asks as he gets up to put on a hoodie.
“I think she’s cheating. I deserve it, I know.” Oliver says as he finishes his cigarette and checks your location on his phone. “She’s so strong to have put up with me for so long.”
Ryusei doesn’t feel sorry for Oliver in the slightest and he wasn’t going to pretend to now. He lets out a sigh and says, “Just be rational, man. You knew the type of person she was before you married her and you drove her to do this.” Ryusei says as he sprays a bit of cologne on himself.
“Yea, I know. I was fucking stupid and thought she wouldn’t follow through. But I’ll deal with the motherfucker who’s stupid enough to fuck my wife.”
Ryusei knew Oliver was 100% serious when those words left his mouth and no amount of comfort was changing that. “Keep me updated.” Ryusei says as he grabs his keys off the counter.
“Thanks.”
— ݁ᛪ༙
You had been sitting at the bar, nursing on a umetini, arriving an hour before your date to scope out the establishment. You had to make sure Oliver didn’t send any of his men to ruin the night. You scanned the neon lit perimeter, taking in the faces of the waiters, waitresses’ and guests.
And so far it looks like the coast is clear. You take a deep breath before checking your makeup and hair in your phone’s camera. You give yourself a slight pep talk and reassurance as you take in your beauty. You adjust your mini dress and lace up heels while you sit.
“Is this seat taken?” A deep and familiar voice says from behind you.
You turn around to Nakamaru. He’s breathtaking in person and you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him. You get up from your stool and pull him in a hug. His hands clung tightly to your waist as you threw your arms over his shoulders.
“Nakamaru, It’s so nice to meet you.” you say as he releases you from the hug. You stick your hand towards him, attempting to give him a handshake. “Oh wait, Sorry.” then slightly bow instead.
Nakamaru laughs off the situation, thinking it’s cute since you're a ‘foreigner’. You made sure to play dumb so that your lies are more credible. You two sat down, ordered drinks and began having light conversation. After two rounds of drinks, the conversation turned into drifting eyes, wandering hands, and promiscuous conversation.
“Did you wear this dress for me?” Nakamaru says as he sips on his highball.
“I did. You said that your favorite color was purple right?” You flirt, fiddling with the straw between your fingers.
Nakamaru chuckles and says, “It is. Since you wore it for me, can I get a good look of you in it?”
You slowly extract yourself from the stool, keeping your gaze fixed on him. Your hand smooths down the material hugging your frame before doing a teasing twirl for his eyes only. The sight of you is enough to make his slick tongue glide over his lips, clearly checking you out with no shame.
This date is cute and all but you’re ready to kick things up notch.
Your glossy lips skims the shell of his ear the closer you get, whispering. “I promise the dress looks better on the floor.”
“My attention won’t be on the dress if it’s on the floor.” Nakamaru flirts back.
Your thighs clench together at his sly remark. You take another sip of your drink as his eyes raked slowly over your body. It was like his stare was trying to pierce through your soul.
“What would you be paying attention to, Nakamaru?” You ask with low eyes and a honeyed voice.
He leans his tall frame over to you, his plump lips lingering right outside your ear. “You’d have every bit of my attention.”
Those were the words that you wanted to hear. So, he finally paid for the bill, took you out to his car and made sure to peck your lips before he opened the passenger door for you.
Nakamaru was saying and doing all the right things, so much that you failed to notice Barou hiding in his car on the other side of the parking lot. He was quick to capture the moment in a picture to send to Oliver.
After successfully documenting the moment, he followed behind you two. He always stayed a few cars behind so that he stayed unnoticed… or at least he thought. You couldn’t shake the feeling you were being followed. You kept peaking glances in the rear view mirror but not enough to where Nakamura noticed.
Once you got to the hotel, you two shared glasses of wine, sensual glances, and laughs. You were completely enthralled by his smooth dialogue and carnal touches that you had lost the feeling of being watched.
“I’ve been thinking about this moment all week.” Nakamaru says, running his hands down the leathery material clung to your body as he stood directly behind you.
His fingers dig into your plush hips before dragging you against him, causing a soft gasp to slip from your plump lips. Right then and there, you can feel his growing bulge poke further in your ass, your dress inching higher with each motion.
“I better make it worth your while then.” You purr.
He chuckles in your ear as his lips make way to your neck. Goosebumps rise amongst your skin as he lightly kisses you. Every moan that he gets out of you instills him with confidence. The once gentle kisses turn into ravenous ones as he slips off your dress.
You turn around to face him and start unbuttoning his shirt. He happily lets you strip him of it, enjoying the face you make when his muscular physique is revealed to you. Oxytocin floods your system as you run your hands down his chiseled abs.
He wastes no time, sliding his hand into your panties. A moan slips past his lips as he feels just how wet you were for him.
“I’m not the only one who was looking forward to this… Is this all for me?” He moans into your ear.
A breathless “yes” escapes your lips as he slips his fingers past your slick folds. He held you perfectly in place as his fingers bullied your clit in a tight circular motion. You grind your hips against his hard on as he sucks and licks on your neck.
“More.” You shamelessly whimper.
Before you know it, your back hits the mattress and Nakamaru is in between your legs nibbling on your inner thighs, teasing you. He wanted to push you to the point of no return in just a few short moments of being alone with you.
“Nakamaru-”
“Call me Riku..” He whispers. “It’ll sound so pretty coming out of your mouth.”
“Riku, I-”
Your eyes meet the back of your skull as he drags his tongue through your glistening folds. You hate to admit it but you 100% see the appeal in cheating now. Having someone fiend over you like this was unmatched. Yes, Oliver always satisfied you in the bedroom but you couldn’t remember the last time he pined over you like this.
Every touch was calculated and well thought out. He didn’t want to make a single wrong move when it came to you. Since he is a yakuza, you knew he’d be perceptive to your needs… and you knew he’d keep this little exchange on the low as well.
“Hgnh- Riku, I’m gonna!” You cry out as your thighs wrapped around his head.
He continues like his life depends on it; savoring your heat like it was his last meal. The knot in your stomach releases as you clutch onto the sheets for dear life. He thought it was beautiful how you came undone for him, covering his lips and chin in your wetness. Before you could retaliate, he’s slipping his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself.
“I’m not done with you yet.” He mumbles as your tongue swirls around his fingers.
You finally got a taste of the forbidden fruit and it was delectable.
— ݁ᛪ༙
[y/n] is LYRA
“I should probably go to bed…”
Yet, even in the early hours of the morning, a random YouTube video keeps auto playing in the background of your TV. And the constant habit of checking your phone pulls you further away from slipping under the duvet. It just so happened that tonight was one of those nights when your mind is finding an excuse to not rest.
Even when you rise from the couch and head towards the fridge as you pour yourself a glass of water, your thoughts keep wandering elsewhere.
No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, it doesn’t stop your mind from focusing on Ryusei.
There has not been a teasing text nor an abrupt call from him all day but you knew it was better for you to wait for him to text first.
But your guilty conscience gets the better of you, even just thinking about him, even knowing about his unhappy relationship against his will. You know that it’s not his fault and it’s out of his control. But being the other woman in disguise is beginning to eat you alive more than you’re willing to acknowledge.
You know how selfish it is to crave how much you want him to yourself, all his undivided attention to be put on you and not the one he calls his fiancée.
Maybe it was perfect timing or maybe it was fate stopping you from doing the unthinkable. But two thumping knocks at your front door take you out of contemplation.
The sound rings louder than your thoughts. But you don’t act on discovering who it might be. It’s far too late at night for someone to see you. So whoever’s knocking must be at the wrong apartment.
Surely, they’ll get the hint that you’re unavailable.
Resuming back to your glass of water, you stroll to the couch and plop yourself down with the TV screen flashing before you. But soon enough, those same knocks came back and this time they were pounding as if the front door is close to being flung open.
While they’re being persistent, you’re now pissed off. Setting your glass aside and pressing pause on your TV remote, you storm right into the hallway until you’re face-to-face with the door.
You knew better than to swing open the door without checking who it could be. So without being reckless, you press your eye to the peephole, squinting them to get a better glimpse.
The clearer your vision gets, the quicker your heart stutters the moment you see Ryusei of all people at your doorstep. There’s not a trace of distress or irritation forming on his face.
Despite his actions, he looks calm, too calm one might say. So it begs the question: why is he here?
Why isn’t he in the comfort of his home with his fiancée by his side? Why isn’t he with her? You’re the other woman after all, so why reach out at a time like this?
Bombarding yourself with questions with no answers isn’t going to help your poor mind. So you do the unthinkable, rushing to unlock the bottom of your front door before swinging it open.
“Ryusei, why the hell are you–?”
Your words quite literally die in your throat, now becoming trapped. Your mind staggers once his calloused hands find both sides of your soft face.
The action is surprisingly gentle, just like the way his half-lidded fuchsia eyes lock onto yours, like the way he finally leans down and his lips find yours that has you breaking out in a gasp.
The hold he has on you is one where he refuses to let you pull away, his touch reassuring yet careful like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him.
You’re short-circuiting but your impulses are still active, your hand instantly clinging to his shirt, unsure whether to push him away or to pull him closer.
But it’s so hard to resist. His lips are rough as they press against yours, his tongue now invading your lips as a means to give in to him. And of course, you give in to the temptation that’s been brewing between you two for weeks now.
Your plump lips fall agape, allowing for his slick tongue to savour every whimper and breathy moan slipping out of you.
And the responses you now deliver give him the green light to lift you like it’s the most natural thing to him, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist.
Yet, his mouth still hasn’t left yours. Even when his hands hook under your thighs. Even when he lets himself inside your small apartment after slamming the front door shut with the back of his shoe.
Just like Ryusei, you've been craving for this moment more than you'd like to admit. Though, you still want answers, the same ones that made you curious the moment he appeared at your front door step.
But all the while he carries you down the hallway as you try to pull away to utter out a word, his canine teeth tug at your bottom lip, yanking you back to crash his mouth on yours once again.
Ryusei isn't blind nor is he stupid. It’s written all over your face how flustered and confused you are. But Ryusei being Ryusei would rather show than tell you what he needs.
It’s only then he finally enters your bedroom, placing you gently on your bed, your back hitting the mattress as breathless gasps run from your swollen lips. But he doesn’t spare you the couple of seconds you need to catch your breath.
“Look at you,” he drawls, stalking over you until his breath hits your ear, low enough for you to hear. “All laid out for me.”
“Ryusei–“
“Relax, I’m here.” He cuts you off though he says it like it’s the easiest task to do.
And it doesn’t help with his beefy hand finding your pyjama pants, roughly palming your clothed pussy just enough to watch how quickly your face contorts.
Your legs have a mind of their own, your thighs spreading wide to give him more access to your needy core. And the widest grin curls on his face, taking advantage of the invitation, his hand sliding away your pants along with your soaked panties before trailing further to your cunt.
His weight settles above you, a low chuckle ghosting your ear when your hips twitch before you can stop them. “You want this just as badly as I do, don’t you?”
“Ryu…” your voice becomes thinner with each inhale. “We shouldn’t–”
“It’s funny how you’re sayin’ one thing…” the pad of his index and middle traces your folds that make you shudder.. “But your body is doin’ another.”
He ignores the way your breathing falters, ignores the way your palm finds his bicep to squeeze ever so tightly when his index and middle finger now nudges past your trembling folds.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
Your lips part, but no actual words form apart from a shaky whimper when he finally decides to move at an excruciating slow pace. His fingers disappear and reappear, his gaze fixating on how quickly your lashes flutter, your grip growing stronger on his bicep like you’re trying to anchor him to you.
“You like that?” He drawls, “you love it.”
Your mind is useless. A coherent sentence let alone a response fails to retreat from your now clogged throat that’s spilling nothing but whines and mewls. But the reality is that Ryusei doesn’t need you to answer.
He doesn’t need you to say otherwise nor does he want you to interrupt him. Because the truth is that you need him just as much as he needs you and it’s written all over your screwed face.
His assault on your core never ceases, your wordless responses only encourage him to dip his head low between your plush thighs. The scent of you drives him feral. Nothing but pure slick and your sweet scent fills his nostrils, urging him to nudge the tip of his tongue in your pulsing clit, his fingers still working overtime.
Instantly, your thighs bracket around his face, your legs locking around him as a means to crave for him more. The uncontrollable noises you make, the lower half of your body trembling, it only spurs him on to begin relentlessly flicking his tongue against your core, the movements of his fingers becoming more urgent.
“Keep your eyes on me, pretty.” He demands, voice muffled while he drags his tongue up your slit until the tip hooks under your clit.
Your eyelids don’t budge, continuing to seal the view that’s exposed before you so your defiance is clear as day.
“I said,” he extracts his fingers from your hole, leaving you empty yet both hands settle on the back of your thighs before spreading you apart, driving his tongue deep in your walls until they flutter around the base. “Look at me.”
And you do, even if it means it was by force. Your eyes are blown wide, holding his intense gaze that dares you to try and look away again. He rotates in every motion from digging into your cunt to suctioning your clit with a ‘pop’ sound each time.
He works you with ruthless efficiency, his tongue pumping in a steady rhythm alternating between soft laps and pointed pressure. His mouth is persistent, a wet, sloppy mess that coaxes a broken cry from your throat.
“D-Don’t stop…” you let out a breathless whisper, hips twitching uncontrollably, still gripping onto the sheets like your life depends on it.
The admission sends a shudder through his entire frame. Yet just when your body is about to seize, just when the pressure in your core fizzles with your orgasm about to crash through you, your weak command does little to convince him pushing you to that edge.
He finally pulls back, his head leaving from between your glistening inner thighs, his tongue dipping out your hole that makes you empty.
His weight shifts on the bed, towering over you as he peers at your trembling and boneless frame against the sheets. His silence strikes you, focusing more on unzipping his hoodie that hits the floor, followed by his shirt, pants and finally your top than your half-lidded eyes that begs and craves for more.
It’s only then he lowers himself back to you, the heat of his bare skin pressing against yours. The hard length of his cock rests against your inner thigh, bracing himself on one elbow. But before his other hand guides himself to your entrance, he shifts your body effortlessly, lifting your hips and folding your legs back towards your shoulders.
The position is humiliating, deep yet exposing, leaving you completely open to him. His bulging tip presses against your slick entrance, pushing forward with a slow, deliberate pressure that steals a gasp from you.
His voice is a low, strained murmur as he sheathes himself inside of you inch by agonizing inch.
“Fuck,” he lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, his hips finally meeting yours.
He holds himself buried inside, letting you feel his full length, his body trembling with the effort of his control. His slitted eyes are blown wide, fixed on your screwed face.
A breathless “yes” falls from his mouth as he begins to move, a slow, deep roll of his hips. “I’ve wanted you for sooo fucking long.”
Each thrust is measured, punishingly slow. His head dips low until his lips graze your ear. “Three whole years.”
His rhythm doesn’t falter. Every grinding motion punctuates his words, driving them home with physical forces that restricts your ability to form a coherent response.
“Not being able to know you, to kiss you, to feel you ” he plunges furiously, a sharp connection of his hips shatters a weak whine from you. “I couldn’t even let myself think too hard about you.”
His tense hands grip your thighs, holding you in the devastating mating press as he moves. His chest and arms seem to shift and writhe in the dim light with the flex of his muscles.
“It was so hard to get you out of my mind.” he slows again, pushing himself to the hilt and staying there, his body flush against yours. “I’m not done with you, I'm just getting started.”
He pulls almost all the way out, then sinks back in with a controlled pace that steals the air from your lungs.
“This… you… this is what I want,” his eyes search your overwhelmed and clouded ones, the pink-fuschia irises glowing with an intense, desperate need in them. “Tell me you want this too.”
Your tremulous hands manage to pull him down, sliding from his bicep to his broad shoulders, anchoring him to you. Your lips find his in a desperate, answering kiss that tastes of surrender and acceptance. It’s all the confirmation he needs.
This is what he needed all along. To not just fill you to the brim but to fill the void that’s been daggering in his heart for so long now.
He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “That’s my angel.”
His controlled pace shatters with urgency, driving the breath from your lungs. The bed frame creaks in a steady rhythm against the wall.
He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his voice strained. “You’re takin’ it so good for me.”
His thick hands travel from your thighs to your hips, his nails digging into the plush skin as he ruts in you like a dog in heat further into the mattress.
The earlier conflict in your eyes is far gone, replaced by tears that brims your eyesight from the overstimulation, from his single-minded focus on the feeling of your body wrapped around his.
A choked sob manages to slip through your gritted teeth, your head lolling back against the rumpled sheets. “I-It’s too much–!”
The moment the words leave your kiss-bitten lips, it seems to unlock his restraint that snaps. To him, it’s not enough. Your body swallowing him so perfectly, accommodating his size. He needs more.
With startling ease, he flips you over onto your stomach, your body turning in his hands like a rag doll.
“C’mon now,” he kneels behind you, one hand splaying across the small of your back, pressing you down into the mattress until your back is arched perfectly for his hungry gaze. “You’re doin’ so well. Don’t tap out now.”
His mushroom tip prods at your glistening hole, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth shove that punches a broken whine from your throat.
His free hand fists into your hip, harsh grunts seeping out of him as his irises glazes over the curve of your frame, your ass smacking against him so violently. “Fuuck, that’s it.”
He sets a brutal, frantic, pounding rhythm pace from the start, plunging in you that drives you forward. The sound of skin meeting skin, his ragged breaths and your now muffled whimpers due to your face smothering the sheets, fills the bedroom.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,’ he leans over you, the hard planes of his chest plants against your back, his lips scraping near your ear. “Splittin’ you open with my cock.”
The constant filthy praises he fills in your hazy mind falters the second his phone vibrates on your nightstand. The first ring is sharp, intrusive, causing his hips to stutter for a fraction of a second.
A distraction like that is testing Shidou’s patience yet, he doesn’t stop. If anything, it only urges him to go deeper, his thrusts unwavering.
The second ring is just as agitating as the first one. The insistent individual on the other line manages to make his jaw tighten, the muscles in his arms corded as he maintains his pace.
With a frustrated grunt, he reaches out one hand, snatching the phone without pulling out of you. The screen casts a flashing light on his face, highlighting the tension around his eyes: Hime.
“Of course.” A sharp, bitter laugh erupts from him, his hips transitioning to drawn-out rolls yet never daring to drag out of you.
The third ring comes back to taunt him. But instead of silencing it, he swipes the screen to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. His movement slows to a quiet assertion of control.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me.” He huffs out, his voice dangerously calm. He holds the phone to his ear with one hand, the other flat across your lower back, keeping you pinned.
“It was a mistake, Ryusei. I regret it so much.”
Despite how desperate and flimsy her voice sounds, she’s managed to paralyse you. You’re trying everything within your power to not utter a single trembling sound, your teeth sinking harshly into your bottom lip.
But your body betrays you, clamping down around his girthy cock in a sudden, involuntary clench. A low, rough groan trickles from Ryusei’s lungs, loud enough to be heard.
“I’m done with you. You’ve pulled me into such toxic cycles,” he growls, feeling your spongy walls tighten around the base of him. "And I'm over it. You never cared about me in the first place."
"Ryusei, please. Don’t say that. You have to listen to me,” her voice is sharp and clear through the phone. “I let my own jealousy get the best of me."
Her pathetic and straining apologies goes through his ear and out the other. He’s in tunnel vision. His eyes are sealed shut, his breath hitching as he rocks into you again that makes you bite your lip harder to stifle a sound.
“Goddamn,” he hisses, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Lose my fuckin’ number.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He ends the call with a sharp tap of his thumb, tossing the phone onto the floor. His hand that was once on your lower back becomes available, finding your neck to wrap around firmly, his thumb pressing down against your pulse point.
Your airways slightly become shallow, pulling your face from the sheets as his grip increases, your head dangling from each relentless motion that has your breath hitching.
He anchors you to the point your back arches, a perfect curve that offers him everything, taking him to the hilt. “Ryu, Ryu!”
A ragged, approving groan tears from his lungs, his voice shattered, breathless. “Yeah… just like that.”
His hands grip your hip and throat like vices, his shaft feeling you becoming erratic, powerful, losing their measured control. The force of them knocks you further into the mattress with each slam.
The sensation is overwhelming that results in your babbling dissolving into incoherent whimpers and wails, your body trembling on the edge of a climax.
“You’re so perfect,” he feels your spongy walls closing in on him, his own control fraying. “Let me feel it. Cum on my dick. Now.”
His command is your trigger. Your body seizes around his length, a silent, shattering wave of pleasure that leaves you boneless against the sheets. His own release follows instantly, a hot, pulsing flood deep inside you that seems to go on forever. His entire frame shudders violently above you as he empties himself in your sore cunt.
After a fleeting moment, he collapses over your back that’s glistening from sweat. His weight is a heavy, comforting warmth, his breath hot and ragged against your shoulder.
He stays buried inside of you, plugging you up to the brim even when your eyes become heavy-lidded. Asides from his heavy rasps, he falls silent and doesn’t clarify on the closed chapter with him and his fiancée.
But from the way he holds you, his lips planting against your temple before his face presses deeply in your hair, speaks volumes.
His unspoken words is all the confirmation you need that he’s no longer bound to Hime.
݁ᛪ༙ ft. Yakuza AU ➜ Yakuza husband! Oliver Aiku x Yakuza wife! Reader x Yakuza fiancé! Ryusei Shidou x Female! Reader
݁ᛪ༙ summary. In the Yakuza world, it’s easy to be corrupted. Bound by crime, power and forbidden desire, loving a yakuza comes at a cost. When choices intertwine, secrets spill… risks are made. So with a cheating husband, a faithful yakuza wife, an engaged fiancé and an innocent civilian—what consequences will they face?
݁ᛪ༙ a note from yours truly. Technically this is my first post of 2026 (sorry I’m only now joining the server gang 🥀) but nonetheless happy new year! Also hope that everyone had a nice holiday period and made some NY resolutions 🙂↔️ enjoy another ch. of more drama — 🐉 ⋆｡°·𓂃🖊
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[y/n] is MOMO
You packed a week's worth of clothing, all your skin care, you even took some of your jewelry. You wanted Oliver to know that you were over his excessive cheating.
You threw your things in your car and headed to your parents home. You were happy to be spending some time with them but deep down you knew they were the best distraction from him.
You knew your mother would take up your days with a sort of spa treatment or shopping. And that your father would have you up at dusk doing yoga or sparring with him. At night, your favorite toy, Nakamaru Riku, had your undivided attention.
He didn’t have to do much to keep it, he was gorgeous. A prominent jawline, sunken eyes, and plump lips, graced the 25 year old man's face. He was a couple inches shorter than your husband but he made up for those inches elsewhere.
You got to know him over the week. Your conversations started off casual with a couple of selfies sprinkled in. It didn’t take long before you found yourself on a phone call with him. Hearing his deep but soft voice say your name.
“When can I see you, Ivy?”
… Your alias name. You’ve been getting to know Nakamaru but he’s been getting to know someone else, A foreigner from the States that works in marketing and sales. She’s visiting Japan for work.
It didn’t take long for you to become the forefront of his mind. Every cute selfie you sent him pushed him closer to asking you out. You had to play your cards right though. You knew your husband was watching your location, it was the only thing giving him peace of mind since you both went no contact. You knew if you were reckless the fun would be over. So you waited the whole week to see Nakamaru.
Day one, when Oliver realised what you were doing, he didn’t bat an eye. He actually found it amusing. His competitiveness consumed him, making him not contact you. “She’ll contact me in a few days and this little act will be behind us.”
Day two, He worked. He made sure to keep himself busy, joining Barou and Sendou on their runs. His right-hand men were concerned by his actions. They could tell something was off.
Day three, He cancelled his session with his favorite girl. Because he’s “just not feeling it lately.”
Day four, he invites Barou and Sendou for a night out drinking. He was fully distracted until Sendou unknowingly asked, “Could Mori-Sama not make it?” Oliver has no choice but to tell them about your recent acts of protest. One thing leads to another and he finds himself drunkenly admitting that he misses you.
Day five. He sulks. He lays in bed and thinks about you. Staring at the pictures that were hung all over the house you two once shared. “I should text her but I have no idea what to say.”
Day six. He breaks down, sending you multiple messages every hour. Begging you to come home, telling you how sorry he is. He feels pathetic for letting it get this far.
Day seven. That evening he decided to take action when he checked your location and saw you were at an upscale bar on your family’s turf, well past midnight.
This is the first night he’s checked your location and you weren’t at your parents house. He fletched his teeth as he realized what was happening.
“She’s cheating on me.” Oliver mumbles.
He quickly dials Barou's number, knowing he would answer even if it was past midnight.
“Everything okay, Boss?” Barou says as he answers the phone.
“I just sent you a location. Go there and follow [y/n] for the night. I want updates and a full report. If you see her with a man, you know what to do.” Oliver demands.
Before Barou even responds, he gets a notification that 20,000 yen has been deposited in his account. Oliver was serious. Barou knew to follow his instructions and not ask too many questions.
“You think you can do that for me?” Oliver asks.
Barou nods his head and says, “Yes, sir. I’ll contact you hourly with updates.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you.” Oliver sings before he hangs up the phone.
He paces around his living room, wondering who you're with and hoping you don’t get too comfortable with them. “Get a fucking grip.” Oliver mumbles to himself.
The vibration of his phone pulsing in his pockets is what snaps him out of his internal conflicts. The first time round, he ignores it, brushing it off as a means to focus solely on you.
But the second the vibration comes running back, he has no choice but to see who’s bothering him. And to his discovery, his brows furrow in confusion yet curiosity.
Hime
You free tonight?
We have business to discuss.
Location: Hotel Lotus, West Tokyo
— ݁ᛪ༙
“This better be good.” Oliver says as he pulls a small recording device out of his leather jacket pocket.
He clicks the small red button, ensuring that it's recording before placing it back inside his pocket. He suspects Hime is onto something and feels the need to document whatever bullshit she’s on.
In all the years that he’s known her, she’s never been the type to get her hands dirty with yakuza work. It’s typically her parents or younger brother who make moves for her family which is why Oliver has his suspicions. What could Hime possibly need from him?
He swiftly opens his driver's door before slamming it shut, producing a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He flicks the lighter, the small flame illuminating his face before bringing the cigarette to his lips.
The tip glows a warm orange as he inhales deeply, his free hand scrolling on his phone, his eyes alert while checking for more updates from Barou.
Barou
She's still inside. There’s a man present.
Oliver smacks his teeth as his eyes scan the text message. He was hoping you wouldn’t make any bad decisions but you were unfortunately serious about making him suffer.
“My sadistic wife.” He mumbles to himself.
He stubs the last remaining of his cigarette onto the concrete ground with the bottom of his sole, his line of sight now following the front entrance of Hotel Lotus.
“Irasshaimase, Aiku-sama. Saijōkai no 801-gōshitsu e okoshi kudasai. Kin-sama ga omachi shite orimasu. (Welcome, Aiku. Please go to the top floor, Room 801. Kin Hime is waiting for you there.)” The receptionist says as she bows in his direction.
“Arigato Gozaimasu. (Thank you)” Oliver says as he continues his journey to Hime’s room.
He checks his phone one more time in the elevator, not even caring about this conversation with Hime. His mind is totally on you and it will be until he gets to the bottom of what you're doing. Once he gets out of the elevator, he walks to the room knocking a few times on the door.
Hime answers wearing a red tulle robe that caresses the ground. “Come in.” she says as she opens the door.
Oliver stares at Hime confused by her attire but doesn’t question it; they are at a love hotel after all.
“Take a seat. Make yourself at home.” She says as he makes his way into the dimly lit hotel room.
“I can’t stay for long so let’s make this quick.” Oliver says sliding off his shoes at the entrance and facing them towards the door.
“Do you want something to drink?” She says ignoring his comment.
“Whiskey on the rocks.” He answers as he sits down on the ottoman near the couch.
He watches her closely making sure she doesn’t do anything to his drink. Hime notices and says, “You like what you see, Aiku?.”
“I’m just making sure you're not poisoning my drink.” Oliver bluntly responds.
She hands him the drink and says, “And why would I do that?”
He takes the glass and sets it on the table next to him. He takes in his surroundings, seeing if there are any cameras or planted microphones. Oliver fully believes he is being set up.
“Aren’t you going to try the drink I made for you?” She whines, snapping him out of contemplation.
He can’t find one camera and he knows that Hime isn’t wearing a wire; she’s practically naked.
“Oliver,” she hums, strutting over to him. “Did you hear me?” she says sweetly as she plays with the knot that’s holding her robe closed.
His brows raise once he notices her gesture. “What the hell are you doing?” Oliver blurts out.
“You’ve been so stressed lately. I just wanted to be a good friend and check up on you,” the red tulle slowly slides down her shoulders, only revealing her collarbone. “Maybe I could relieve some of that stress?”
Her body is draped in red lace, her robe puddling around her ankles as she stands before Oliver. He didn’t hide the fact he was checking her out. He even took a few sips of his drink as he observed her in silence. He wanted to see what she was going to do.
Hime rolls her eyes, annoyed that she has to make yet another move on Oliver. Doesn’t he fuck anything?
She closes the gap between them, settling herself on his lap, a teasing lilt lacing in her voice. “Just say the word and I’m all yours, Aiku.”
“You think I’ll fuck anything, huh?” Oliver questions and he puts his glass down. “Are you serious right now?”
She starts to panic but tries one last attempt. She gets off his lap and gets on her knees instead. She looks up at Oliver with pleading eyes and says, “I’m so serious.”
Oliver takes a breath trying to show some sort of patience. He would never put his hands on a woman but Hime is pushing him past his morals. Did she really think this shit was going to work?
“Get the fuck up.” He demands, his voice dangerously calm, a vein now ticking on his temple.
His demeanor changed for the worst. You could cut the tension in the air. She can’t even look him in the eye, completely intimidated by the yakuza boss. Her emotions get the best of her as she slowly stands and says, “A-aren’t you sick and tired of Ryusei fucking your wife? You care don’t you?.”
Oliver swiftly gets up from the chair, causing Hime to flinch. He picks up her robe off the floor and throws it at her. “My wife isn’t fucking Ryusei. She’s never fucked him. If you paid attention, you’d know that my wife isn’t who you should be worried about.” He said through the grit of his teeth.
Hime didn’t dare to say anything else to Oliver. She knew if she said anything more she would regret it. However, she couldn’t stop herself from mumbling, “Please don’t tell Ryu….”
A harsh scoff leaves his lungs, shaking his head without meeting her gaze and heading straight for the door. “You’re fucking pathetic.”
Harsh curses freely roam from under his breath the closer he gets to his car, sparking up another cigarette whilst his phone nestles in his other hand, impatiently waiting for a particular person to answer.
Ryusei’s voice is low, teasingly sultry, feigning clueless given that he deliberately let his phone ring three times before answering. “You’re calling me pretty late….”
Oliver chuckles and says “I am. Your fianceé just tried to seduce me.”
Ryusei sits up in his chair and processes the information. He couldn’t hold back the smile that was beginning to form on his face. “Don't fuck with me, Aiku.” He mumbles.
“I’m serious. I’ll send the screenshot and the voice recording I got. She sent me this message saying she wanted to talk business at one of her parents' love hotels. The minute I get there, she starts stripping. She wanted to get back at you and [y/n] for cheating that you both never did. And get this, she had the nerve to beg me not to tell you.” Oliver admits, huffing a plume of smoke from his lungs.
Ryusei scoffs at how pathetic Hime is and says, “She couldn’t have picked a more perfect time to fuck up.”
“Oh? You got another chick on the roster? Ryu, you sly dog….” Oliver purrs.
“Eh, not too much. I kept my dick in my pants for the entirety of my relationship with Hime.” He wasn’t kidding. Every time he and Lyra met up, his dick DID stay in his pants. However, his hands did not stay to themselves.
“Riiiight.” Oliver says, rolling his eyes.
“I appreciate you telling me, man.” On the other end of the line, Ryusei has already risen from his couch, swiftly slipping on a shirt over his bare frame with purpose.
What could he possibly be getting ready for in the middle of the night?
“Of course. It’s the least I could do since you spent so many nights comforting my wife...” Oliver trails off.
Ryusei notices the change in his demeanor once you're mentioned. He knew you were up to no good and it had Oliver in pieces.
“You alright?” Ryusei half-haphazardly asks as he gets up to put on a hoodie.
“I think she’s cheating. I deserve it, I know.” Oliver says as he finishes his cigarette and checks your location on his phone. “She’s so strong to have put up with me for so long.”
Ryusei doesn’t feel sorry for Oliver in the slightest and he wasn’t going to pretend to now. He lets out a sigh and says, “Just be rational, man. You knew the type of person she was before you married her and you drove her to do this.” Ryusei says as he sprays a bit of cologne on himself.
“Yea, I know. I was fucking stupid and thought she wouldn’t follow through. But I’ll deal with the motherfucker who’s stupid enough to fuck my wife.”
Ryusei knew Oliver was 100% serious when those words left his mouth and no amount of comfort was changing that. “Keep me updated.” Ryusei says as he grabs his keys off the counter.
“Thanks.”
— ݁ᛪ༙
You had been sitting at the bar, nursing on a umetini, arriving an hour before your date to scope out the establishment. You had to make sure Oliver didn’t send any of his men to ruin the night. You scanned the neon lit perimeter, taking in the faces of the waiters, waitresses’ and guests.
And so far it looks like the coast is clear. You take a deep breath before checking your makeup and hair in your phone’s camera. You give yourself a slight pep talk and reassurance as you take in your beauty. You adjust your mini dress and lace up heels while you sit.
“Is this seat taken?” A deep and familiar voice says from behind you.
You turn around to Nakamaru. He’s breathtaking in person and you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him. You get up from your stool and pull him in a hug. His hands clung tightly to your waist as you threw your arms over his shoulders.
“Nakamaru, It’s so nice to meet you.” you say as he releases you from the hug. You stick your hand towards him, attempting to give him a handshake. “Oh wait, Sorry.” then slightly bow instead.
Nakamaru laughs off the situation, thinking it’s cute since you're a ‘foreigner’. You made sure to play dumb so that your lies are more credible. You two sat down, ordered drinks and began having light conversation. After two rounds of drinks, the conversation turned into drifting eyes, wandering hands, and promiscuous conversation.
“Did you wear this dress for me?” Nakamaru says as he sips on his highball.
“I did. You said that your favorite color was purple right?” You flirt, fiddling with the straw between your fingers.
Nakamaru chuckles and says, “It is. Since you wore it for me, can I get a good look of you in it?”
You slowly extract yourself from the stool, keeping your gaze fixed on him. Your hand smooths down the material hugging your frame before doing a teasing twirl for his eyes only. The sight of you is enough to make his slick tongue glide over his lips, clearly checking you out with no shame.
This date is cute and all but you’re ready to kick things up notch.
Your glossy lips skims the shell of his ear the closer you get, whispering. “I promise the dress looks better on the floor.”
“My attention won’t be on the dress if it’s on the floor.” Nakamaru flirts back.
Your thighs clench together at his sly remark. You take another sip of your drink as his eyes raked slowly over your body. It was like his stare was trying to pierce through your soul.
“What would you be paying attention to, Nakamaru?” You ask with low eyes and a honeyed voice.
He leans his tall frame over to you, his plump lips lingering right outside your ear. “You’d have every bit of my attention.”
Those were the words that you wanted to hear. So, he finally paid for the bill, took you out to his car and made sure to peck your lips before he opened the passenger door for you.
Nakamaru was saying and doing all the right things, so much that you failed to notice Barou hiding in his car on the other side of the parking lot. He was quick to capture the moment in a picture to send to Oliver.
After successfully documenting the moment, he followed behind you two. He always stayed a few cars behind so that he stayed unnoticed… or at least he thought. You couldn’t shake the feeling you were being followed. You kept peaking glances in the rear view mirror but not enough to where Nakamura noticed.
Once you got to the hotel, you two shared glasses of wine, sensual glances, and laughs. You were completely enthralled by his smooth dialogue and carnal touches that you had lost the feeling of being watched.
“I’ve been thinking about this moment all week.” Nakamaru says, running his hands down the leathery material clung to your body as he stood directly behind you.
His fingers dig into your plush hips before dragging you against him, causing a soft gasp to slip from your plump lips. Right then and there, you can feel his growing bulge poke further in your ass, your dress inching higher with each motion.
“I better make it worth your while then.” You purr.
He chuckles in your ear as his lips make way to your neck. Goosebumps rise amongst your skin as he lightly kisses you. Every moan that he gets out of you instills him with confidence. The once gentle kisses turn into ravenous ones as he slips off your dress.
You turn around to face him and start unbuttoning his shirt. He happily lets you strip him of it, enjoying the face you make when his muscular physique is revealed to you. Oxytocin floods your system as you run your hands down his chiseled abs.
He wastes no time, sliding his hand into your panties. A moan slips past his lips as he feels just how wet you were for him.
“I’m not the only one who was looking forward to this… Is this all for me?” He moans into your ear.
A breathless “yes” escapes your lips as he slips his fingers past your slick folds. He held you perfectly in place as his fingers bullied your clit in a tight circular motion. You grind your hips against his hard on as he sucks and licks on your neck.
“More.” You shamelessly whimper.
Before you know it, your back hits the mattress and Nakamaru is in between your legs nibbling on your inner thighs, teasing you. He wanted to push you to the point of no return in just a few short moments of being alone with you.
“Nakamaru-”
“Call me Riku..” He whispers. “It’ll sound so pretty coming out of your mouth.”
“Riku, I-”
Your eyes meet the back of your skull as he drags his tongue through your glistening folds. You hate to admit it but you 100% see the appeal in cheating now. Having someone fiend over you like this was unmatched. Yes, Oliver always satisfied you in the bedroom but you couldn’t remember the last time he pined over you like this.
Every touch was calculated and well thought out. He didn’t want to make a single wrong move when it came to you. Since he is a yakuza, you knew he’d be perceptive to your needs… and you knew he’d keep this little exchange on the low as well.
“Hgnh- Riku, I’m gonna!” You cry out as your thighs wrapped around his head.
He continues like his life depends on it; savoring your heat like it was his last meal. The knot in your stomach releases as you clutch onto the sheets for dear life. He thought it was beautiful how you came undone for him, covering his lips and chin in your wetness. Before you could retaliate, he’s slipping his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself.
“I’m not done with you yet.” He mumbles as your tongue swirls around his fingers.
You finally got a taste of the forbidden fruit and it was delectable.
— ݁ᛪ༙
[y/n] is LYRA
“I should probably go to bed…”
Yet, even in the early hours of the morning, a random YouTube video keeps auto playing in the background of your TV. And the constant habit of checking your phone pulls you further away from slipping under the duvet. It just so happened that tonight was one of those nights when your mind is finding an excuse to not rest.
Even when you rise from the couch and head towards the fridge as you pour yourself a glass of water, your thoughts keep wandering elsewhere.
No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, it doesn’t stop your mind from focusing on Ryusei.
There has not been a teasing text nor an abrupt call from him all day but you knew it was better for you to wait for him to text first.
But your guilty conscience gets the better of you, even just thinking about him, even knowing about his unhappy relationship against his will. You know that it’s not his fault and it’s out of his control. But being the other woman in disguise is beginning to eat you alive more than you’re willing to acknowledge.
You know how selfish it is to crave how much you want him to yourself, all his undivided attention to be put on you and not the one he calls his fiancée.
Maybe it was perfect timing or maybe it was fate stopping you from doing the unthinkable. But two thumping knocks at your front door take you out of contemplation.
The sound rings louder than your thoughts. But you don’t act on discovering who it might be. It’s far too late at night for someone to see you. So whoever’s knocking must be at the wrong apartment.
Surely, they’ll get the hint that you’re unavailable.
Resuming back to your glass of water, you stroll to the couch and plop yourself down with the TV screen flashing before you. But soon enough, those same knocks came back and this time they were pounding as if the front door is close to being flung open.
While they’re being persistent, you’re now pissed off. Setting your glass aside and pressing pause on your TV remote, you storm right into the hallway until you’re face-to-face with the door.
You knew better than to swing open the door without checking who it could be. So without being reckless, you press your eye to the peephole, squinting them to get a better glimpse.
The clearer your vision gets, the quicker your heart stutters the moment you see Ryusei of all people at your doorstep. There’s not a trace of distress or irritation forming on his face.
Despite his actions, he looks calm, too calm one might say. So it begs the question: why is he here?
Why isn’t he in the comfort of his home with his fiancée by his side? Why isn’t he with her? You’re the other woman after all, so why reach out at a time like this?
Bombarding yourself with questions with no answers isn’t going to help your poor mind. So you do the unthinkable, rushing to unlock the bottom of your front door before swinging it open.
“Ryusei, why the hell are you–?”
Your words quite literally die in your throat, now becoming trapped. Your mind staggers once his calloused hands find both sides of your soft face.
The action is surprisingly gentle, just like the way his half-lidded fuchsia eyes lock onto yours, like the way he finally leans down and his lips find yours that has you breaking out in a gasp.
The hold he has on you is one where he refuses to let you pull away, his touch reassuring yet careful like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him.
You’re short-circuiting but your impulses are still active, your hand instantly clinging to his shirt, unsure whether to push him away or to pull him closer.
But it’s so hard to resist. His lips are rough as they press against yours, his tongue now invading your lips as a means to give in to him. And of course, you give in to the temptation that’s been brewing between you two for weeks now.
Your plump lips fall agape, allowing for his slick tongue to savour every whimper and breathy moan slipping out of you.
And the responses you now deliver give him the green light to lift you like it’s the most natural thing to him, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist.
Yet, his mouth still hasn’t left yours. Even when his hands hook under your thighs. Even when he lets himself inside your small apartment after slamming the front door shut with the back of his shoe.
Just like Ryusei, you've been craving for this moment more than you'd like to admit. Though, you still want answers, the same ones that made you curious the moment he appeared at your front door step.
But all the while he carries you down the hallway as you try to pull away to utter out a word, his canine teeth tug at your bottom lip, yanking you back to crash his mouth on yours once again.
Ryusei isn't blind nor is he stupid. It’s written all over your face how flustered and confused you are. But Ryusei being Ryusei would rather show than tell you what he needs.
It’s only then he finally enters your bedroom, placing you gently on your bed, your back hitting the mattress as breathless gasps run from your swollen lips. But he doesn’t spare you the couple of seconds you need to catch your breath.
“Look at you,” he drawls, stalking over you until his breath hits your ear, low enough for you to hear. “All laid out for me.”
“Ryusei–“
“Relax, I’m here.” He cuts you off though he says it like it’s the easiest task to do.
And it doesn’t help with his beefy hand finding your pyjama pants, roughly palming your clothed pussy just enough to watch how quickly your face contorts.
Your legs have a mind of their own, your thighs spreading wide to give him more access to your needy core. And the widest grin curls on his face, taking advantage of the invitation, his hand sliding away your pants along with your soaked panties before trailing further to your cunt.
His weight settles above you, a low chuckle ghosting your ear when your hips twitch before you can stop them. “You want this just as badly as I do, don’t you?”
“Ryu…” your voice becomes thinner with each inhale. “We shouldn’t–”
“It’s funny how you’re sayin’ one thing…” the pad of his index and middle traces your folds that make you shudder.. “But your body is doin’ another.”
He ignores the way your breathing falters, ignores the way your palm finds his bicep to squeeze ever so tightly when his index and middle finger now nudges past your trembling folds.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
Your lips part, but no actual words form apart from a shaky whimper when he finally decides to move at an excruciating slow pace. His fingers disappear and reappear, his gaze fixating on how quickly your lashes flutter, your grip growing stronger on his bicep like you’re trying to anchor him to you.
“You like that?” He drawls, “you love it.”
Your mind is useless. A coherent sentence let alone a response fails to retreat from your now clogged throat that’s spilling nothing but whines and mewls. But the reality is that Ryusei doesn’t need you to answer.
He doesn’t need you to say otherwise nor does he want you to interrupt him. Because the truth is that you need him just as much as he needs you and it’s written all over your screwed face.
His assault on your core never ceases, your wordless responses only encourage him to dip his head low between your plush thighs. The scent of you drives him feral. Nothing but pure slick and your sweet scent fills his nostrils, urging him to nudge the tip of his tongue in your pulsing clit, his fingers still working overtime.
Instantly, your thighs bracket around his face, your legs locking around him as a means to crave for him more. The uncontrollable noises you make, the lower half of your body trembling, it only spurs him on to begin relentlessly flicking his tongue against your core, the movements of his fingers becoming more urgent.
“Keep your eyes on me, pretty.” He demands, voice muffled while he drags his tongue up your slit until the tip hooks under your clit.
Your eyelids don’t budge, continuing to seal the view that’s exposed before you so your defiance is clear as day.
“I said,” he extracts his fingers from your hole, leaving you empty yet both hands settle on the back of your thighs before spreading you apart, driving his tongue deep in your walls until they flutter around the base. “Look at me.”
And you do, even if it means it was by force. Your eyes are blown wide, holding his intense gaze that dares you to try and look away again. He rotates in every motion from digging into your cunt to suctioning your clit with a ‘pop’ sound each time.
He works you with ruthless efficiency, his tongue pumping in a steady rhythm alternating between soft laps and pointed pressure. His mouth is persistent, a wet, sloppy mess that coaxes a broken cry from your throat.
“D-Don’t stop…” you let out a breathless whisper, hips twitching uncontrollably, still gripping onto the sheets like your life depends on it.
The admission sends a shudder through his entire frame. Yet just when your body is about to seize, just when the pressure in your core fizzles with your orgasm about to crash through you, your weak command does little to convince him pushing you to that edge.
He finally pulls back, his head leaving from between your glistening inner thighs, his tongue dipping out your hole that makes you empty.
His weight shifts on the bed, towering over you as he peers at your trembling and boneless frame against the sheets. His silence strikes you, focusing more on unzipping his hoodie that hits the floor, followed by his shirt, pants and finally your top than your half-lidded eyes that begs and craves for more.
It’s only then he lowers himself back to you, the heat of his bare skin pressing against yours. The hard length of his cock rests against your inner thigh, bracing himself on one elbow. But before his other hand guides himself to your entrance, he shifts your body effortlessly, lifting your hips and folding your legs back towards your shoulders.
The position is humiliating, deep yet exposing, leaving you completely open to him. His bulging tip presses against your slick entrance, pushing forward with a slow, deliberate pressure that steals a gasp from you.
His voice is a low, strained murmur as he sheathes himself inside of you inch by agonizing inch.
“Fuck,” he lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, his hips finally meeting yours.
He holds himself buried inside, letting you feel his full length, his body trembling with the effort of his control. His slitted eyes are blown wide, fixed on your screwed face.
A breathless “yes” falls from his mouth as he begins to move, a slow, deep roll of his hips. “I’ve wanted you for sooo fucking long.”
Each thrust is measured, punishingly slow. His head dips low until his lips graze your ear. “Three whole years.”
His rhythm doesn’t falter. Every grinding motion punctuates his words, driving them home with physical forces that restricts your ability to form a coherent response.
“Not being able to know you, to kiss you, to feel you ” he plunges furiously, a sharp connection of his hips shatters a weak whine from you. “I couldn’t even let myself think too hard about you.”
His tense hands grip your thighs, holding you in the devastating mating press as he moves. His chest and arms seem to shift and writhe in the dim light with the flex of his muscles.
“It was so hard to get you out of my mind.” he slows again, pushing himself to the hilt and staying there, his body flush against yours. “I’m not done with you, I'm just getting started.”
He pulls almost all the way out, then sinks back in with a controlled pace that steals the air from your lungs.
“This… you… this is what I want,” his eyes search your overwhelmed and clouded ones, the pink-fuschia irises glowing with an intense, desperate need in them. “Tell me you want this too.”
Your tremulous hands manage to pull him down, sliding from his bicep to his broad shoulders, anchoring him to you. Your lips find his in a desperate, answering kiss that tastes of surrender and acceptance. It’s all the confirmation he needs.
This is what he needed all along. To not just fill you to the brim but to fill the void that’s been daggering in his heart for so long now.
He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “That’s my angel.”
His controlled pace shatters with urgency, driving the breath from your lungs. The bed frame creaks in a steady rhythm against the wall.
He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his voice strained. “You’re takin’ it so good for me.”
His thick hands travel from your thighs to your hips, his nails digging into the plush skin as he ruts in you like a dog in heat further into the mattress.
The earlier conflict in your eyes is far gone, replaced by tears that brims your eyesight from the overstimulation, from his single-minded focus on the feeling of your body wrapped around his.
A choked sob manages to slip through your gritted teeth, your head lolling back against the rumpled sheets. “I-It’s too much–!”
The moment the words leave your kiss-bitten lips, it seems to unlock his restraint that snaps. To him, it’s not enough. Your body swallowing him so perfectly, accommodating his size. He needs more.
With startling ease, he flips you over onto your stomach, your body turning in his hands like a rag doll.
“C’mon now,” he kneels behind you, one hand splaying across the small of your back, pressing you down into the mattress until your back is arched perfectly for his hungry gaze. “You’re doin’ so well. Don’t tap out now.”
His mushroom tip prods at your glistening hole, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth shove that punches a broken whine from your throat.
His free hand fists into your hip, harsh grunts seeping out of him as his irises glazes over the curve of your frame, your ass smacking against him so violently. “Fuuck, that’s it.”
He sets a brutal, frantic, pounding rhythm pace from the start, plunging in you that drives you forward. The sound of skin meeting skin, his ragged breaths and your now muffled whimpers due to your face smothering the sheets, fills the bedroom.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,’ he leans over you, the hard planes of his chest plants against your back, his lips scraping near your ear. “Splittin’ you open with my cock.”
The constant filthy praises he fills in your hazy mind falters the second his phone vibrates on your nightstand. The first ring is sharp, intrusive, causing his hips to stutter for a fraction of a second.
A distraction like that is testing Shidou’s patience yet, he doesn’t stop. If anything, it only urges him to go deeper, his thrusts unwavering.
The second ring is just as agitating as the first one. The insistent individual on the other line manages to make his jaw tighten, the muscles in his arms corded as he maintains his pace.
With a frustrated grunt, he reaches out one hand, snatching the phone without pulling out of you. The screen casts a flashing light on his face, highlighting the tension around his eyes: Hime.
“Of course.” A sharp, bitter laugh erupts from him, his hips transitioning to drawn-out rolls yet never daring to drag out of you.
The third ring comes back to taunt him. But instead of silencing it, he swipes the screen to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. His movement slows to a quiet assertion of control.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me.” He huffs out, his voice dangerously calm. He holds the phone to his ear with one hand, the other flat across your lower back, keeping you pinned.
“It was a mistake, Ryusei. I regret it so much.”
Despite how desperate and flimsy her voice sounds, she’s managed to paralyse you. You’re trying everything within your power to not utter a single trembling sound, your teeth sinking harshly into your bottom lip.
But your body betrays you, clamping down around his girthy cock in a sudden, involuntary clench. A low, rough groan trickles from Ryusei’s lungs, loud enough to be heard.
“I’m done with you. You’ve pulled me into such toxic cycles,” he growls, feeling your spongy walls tighten around the base of him. "And I'm over it. You never cared about me in the first place."
"Ryusei, please. Don’t say that. You have to listen to me,” her voice is sharp and clear through the phone. “I let my own jealousy get the best of me."
Her pathetic and straining apologies goes through his ear and out the other. He’s in tunnel vision. His eyes are sealed shut, his breath hitching as he rocks into you again that makes you bite your lip harder to stifle a sound.
“Goddamn,” he hisses, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Lose my fuckin’ number.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He ends the call with a sharp tap of his thumb, tossing the phone onto the floor. His hand that was once on your lower back becomes available, finding your neck to wrap around firmly, his thumb pressing down against your pulse point.
Your airways slightly become shallow, pulling your face from the sheets as his grip increases, your head dangling from each relentless motion that has your breath hitching.
He anchors you to the point your back arches, a perfect curve that offers him everything, taking him to the hilt. “Ryu, Ryu!”
A ragged, approving groan tears from his lungs, his voice shattered, breathless. “Yeah… just like that.”
His hands grip your hip and throat like vices, his shaft feeling you becoming erratic, powerful, losing their measured control. The force of them knocks you further into the mattress with each slam.
The sensation is overwhelming that results in your babbling dissolving into incoherent whimpers and wails, your body trembling on the edge of a climax.
“You’re so perfect,” he feels your spongy walls closing in on him, his own control fraying. “Let me feel it. Cum on my dick. Now.”
His command is your trigger. Your body seizes around his length, a silent, shattering wave of pleasure that leaves you boneless against the sheets. His own release follows instantly, a hot, pulsing flood deep inside you that seems to go on forever. His entire frame shudders violently above you as he empties himself in your sore cunt.
After a fleeting moment, he collapses over your back that’s glistening from sweat. His weight is a heavy, comforting warmth, his breath hot and ragged against your shoulder.
He stays buried inside of you, plugging you up to the brim even when your eyes become heavy-lidded. Asides from his heavy rasps, he falls silent and doesn’t clarify on the closed chapter with him and his fiancée.
But from the way he holds you, his lips planting against your temple before his face presses deeply in your hair, speaks volumes.
His unspoken words is all the confirmation you need that he’s no longer bound to Hime.
݁ᛪ༙ ft. Yakuza AU ➜ Yakuza husband! Oliver Aiku x Yakuza wife! Reader x Yakuza fiancé! Ryusei Shidou x Female! Reader
݁ᛪ༙ summary. In the Yakuza world, it’s easy to be corrupted. Bound by crime, power and forbidden desire, loving a yakuza comes at a cost. When choices intertwine, secrets spill… risks are made. So with a cheating husband, a faithful yakuza wife, an engaged fiancé and an innocent civilian—what consequences will they face?
݁ᛪ༙ co-written by. @nakidoriii
݁ᛪ༙ tags in this ch. +18 (MDNI) minor smut, dry humping, edging, teasing, pet names (princess + angel), angst, deceitful behaviour once again, emotional conflicting thoughts, isolation, infidelity, emotionally unavailable
݁ᛪ༙ word count. 6.3k
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[y/n] is LYRA
You didn’t think you’d find yourself spending the rest of the night with Ryusei. You were expecting there to just be that small talk and then he’d go on with the rest of his night at this party.
But here he is, lingering by your side where the small talk both of you once had turns into bouncing from one topic to another.
You're both taking turns in who listens and who yaps away. And for the majority of it, you actually don’t mind just listening to the many details about himself.
But he makes sure to never cross the path of mentioning Hime and each time he catches himself slipping up, he’ll nudge his elbow into your bare arm, directing your attention elsewhere.
Just like in this case.
“C’mon now, it’d be criminal if we didn’t.” He begs nonstop all while leading you straight towards the sleek photo booth with his hand resting on your lower back.
Was he just finding an excuse to subtly touch you? The sensation is enough for you to just give into his wishes and follow him inside the photo booth.
Ryusei was still standing in the first one, only his chest in frame and with you bursting into laughter. In the second one, it was in his best interest to have the both of you stick your tongues out. He didn’t take you for someone to follow his lead, to mimic goofy poses that would’ve annoyed Hime if he so asked her to do the same.
But the last photo was one that rattled with his mind. You were so caught up in the moment, your tipsy state making you a bit giddy that you hadn’t realised that you were out of frame.
He could’ve easily spoken up and just told you that you’re too out of frame. But with only a couple of seconds to spare, he does the unthinkable and his arm instantly makes a home around your waist. His toned arm continues to snake around you, bringing you closer to his side. It’s so sudden and unexpected from him but you quickly plaster a smile on your face, your cheeks now warmer than ever.
It’s there that the photo booth machine prints out only one strip of the previous photos that were taken and Ryusei is the first to swiftly grasp a hold of them. His eyes practically bore into each photo, analysing each pose you did, how close in proximity you were to him. But the one thing he can’t dare to blink away from? That smile of yours.
He can’t remember the last time Hime actually liked being in his presence, actually smiled or at least let out a laugh or two. He knows that he shouldn’t be comparing you to her but for the first time in his life, he’s been able to actually be himself around you.
“Keep it.” He finally breaks the silence as well as his inner thoughts, nestling the photo strip in your palms.
“Oh? You sure?”
“Of course.”
As much as he wants to have a piece of you, remembering this moment, it’s for the best if you to keep it. Knowing his luck, he would accidentally misplace the photo and end up with Hime stumbling across it.
After a while, the party begins to die down with people slowly leaving, saying their goodbyes to one another and some even stumbling out in their drunken states.
So with the ballroom finally cleared out with most of the guests, you and Ryusei finally meet up with Oliver smoking on a cigar, Momo waving over to you, Barou and Sendou standing side by side with their hands behind their back.
Oliver’s bi-coloured eyes narrow as he slyly watches Ryusei playfully tease you about how drunk you’ve gotten. Oliver wasn’t born yesterday so he knows that Ryusei hasn’t mentioned to you about him being engaged.
But for now, he doesn’t say anything. Because even if he wanted to insert himself in your conversation and slyly reveal the truth, Momo makes her presence known.
“Another successful party!” Momo chirped, clasping her hands together with a grin curving on her lips. “Thank you all so much for your help, especially you two.”
She quickly turns to Barou and Sendou, who’re already standing in a straight posture and personally thanks them both as she pats them on the back with all her strength. Barou doesn’t flinch in the slightest while Sendou is bracing himself for every hit.
“Of course, Mori-sama.” Sendou grunts out in agony, trying his best to feign calmness.
Barou simply tuts his teeth at his fellow counterpart before nodding at Momo. “We'll go bring the car up front so just come outside when you’re ready.”
Oliver hums in response, puffing out smoke from his cigar but Momo seems to have caught onto something. Her eyes are fixated, bouncing from one person to another until it stops at Ryusei who stands close by to you.
“Where’s Hime?”
“Hm?”
The last thing he needed to hear from anyone’s mouth was his damn fiancée. Especially since you still had no idea who–
“You know, your fiancée?”
And just like that, the one to blurt out his little secret all while with a smirk was none other than Oliver. The emphasis on ‘fiancée’ made it clear to Ryusei that the whole night, he’d been pushing away the thoughts of Hime and their arranged marriage.
He was so caught up in the moment with you, enjoying your company and even up until now, he still hasn’t turned to see your reaction.
But Momo has and from the way your face grows pale, she slowly mutters out, “gikochinai…” (awkward) under her breath.
Information like that shouldn’t make your brain short circuit for this long, but it does. Your eyes double in size as all that alcohol that was once in your system drains away, sobering up faster than you anticipated.
Had he just told you from the beginning that he was engaged, you wouldn’t have been so caught up with your feelings towards him and maybe you would’ve kept to yourself most of the night. It’s not like you did anything inappropriate with him.
Yet, the constant back and forth flirting is one that you couldn’t deny.
“She probably went back to the apartment.” Ryusei finally answers, his voice slipping into the cracks of the awkward tension.
“Well, you should probably get home to her. Have a good night.” Oliver pats his back with enough force with a smug grin on his face.
Momo being the person she is, can’t help but wonder why on earth Ryusei didn’t leave together with Hime. “Have a good night, Ryu. Are you going straight home?”
“I’m going to the clan house. Gonna stay there for a few days.” Ryusei says, avoiding eye contact with her. She knew something was conflicting him but he wasn’t going to say it in front of everyone.
“Okay, let me know when you get there.”
Momo’s arm is already linked with Oliver’s, strolling away to head outside to the car. It’s just you and Ryusei left in the ballroom. You were going to keep this short. Questioning him wasn’t going to change anything so there really wasn’t anything to talk about.
“It was nice meeting you Ryusei.”
“Likewise. I’ll see you around.”
Absolutely not.
He knows that you're pissed but there’s nothing he can do or say in this moment to stop that. His hands slither into his pockets, watching you walk away as he mentally curses at himself.
As much as you want to give him one final look, you know you shouldn’t. So your gaze focuses ahead until you can see Momo and Oliver standing by the SUV.
You hadn’t even waited until you got your seatbelt on. Once Oliver helped you and Momo get inside the car, you already began yelling.
“What the hell!”
“I know, I know. I don’t know why he wouldn’t say anything to you but at the same time…” Momo doesn’t miss a beat, she rolls her eyes even at the thought of Hime. “I don’t blame him, his fiancée is kind of a bitch.”
“Well, he didn’t mention her on purpose.” Oliver clarifies, focusing the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of your annoyed reaction.
“Ryusei is a lot of things but he’s not a cheater… not like you Oli.”
“Ouuchh.” Oliver dramatically rubs his chest at Momo’s playful yet truthful words. He can’t seem to catch a break with the amount of strays he’s gotten tonight.
You’re dragging your hand down your face, your mind spiralling the more they both keep feeding things in your head. “Clearly, he is one because he was flirting with me all night!”
Now that made Momo’s ears perk up. Flirting is second nature to Ryusei. But with the way you’re reacting right now makes her think there was more he said to you. “Ryu flirts with everyone though…. What was said?”
“He told me that he feels like he knows me by how much you talk about me and how often he sees me on Insta,” every memory of tonight keeps replaying in your mind, wanting you to stop speaking. “He’s visited my page a few times but didn't want to follow me because he thought that would be weird.”
After listening to you, Oliver and Momo instantly lock eyes, exchanging the look of ‘that seems very sus of him.’
“Yep, that was intentional.”
“Definitely intentional flirting. Weird… are you into him though?”
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t into him. You know you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him. But you can’t help it with how attentive he was with you tonight. “I’ll admit, I thought he was cute but he's a yakuza… I'm not about that lifestyle. AND HE'S ENGAGED?!”
“I’ll talk to him about it and see.”
— ݁ᛪ༙
The black SUV swerved along the filmy lit road, a steady soundtrack being the only sound filling the quiet tension inside.
Sae, who's sitting in the driver's seat, has his teal eyes focusing ahead on the road so they can arrive at Ryusei's clan house. In the backseat, Charles scrolls through his phone, occasionally glancing at Ryusei, noting the way his jaw is clenched too tight like there’s something on his mind.
And he wasn’t wrong.
You keep flooding in his mind, his gaze unfocused while his arm rests against the window. It shouldn’t be hard for him to just forget about you, to just focus on what he has with Hime.
But how can he when tonight was the one time he actually felt like he could be himself for once?
Taking him away from his conflicting thoughts, his phone begins ringing and he answers without checking the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Momo casually answers, already arriving home, she repositions herself on the sofa in a more comfortable position. “Did you make it to Oji-San house?”
“Nah, We’re almost there.” His tone is flat, like he doesn’t even want to be having this conversation in the first place. Momo could pick up on it instantly, how distant he sounded.
But that didn’t stop her from prying information from him.
“I was just calling to see if everything is okay? You and Hime didn’t leave together…”
There’s a pause before Ryusei exhaled through his nose, annoyed but not surprised. “I didn’t like how she was talking to you and Oliver at the party,” he continues, his tone sharper now. “Especially since you guys were nice enough to invite her. When I called her out for it, she got upset and tried to start a fight with me. I didn’t feel like dealing with her shit.”
Sitting beside him upfront, Sae blinks at the road, processing the unexpected drop of information. Charles, who has stopped scrolling on his phone long ago, quietly raises his brow and quickly exchanges a quick glance with him in the rearview mirror.
Neither of them have heard a word about this.
“Oh I see…” Momo replies, clearly unfazed yet she’s thoughtful. “Well, if she wants to talk to me or Oliver to clarify anything, we’re here.”
There is a slight pause in silence.
Then, Momo’s voice softens, steering the conversation elsewhere. “You finally got to meet Lyra. What did you think of her?”
“She’s cool.” His response is short for a good reason. He doesn’t need you to be the topic of the discussion.
“I saw you talking to her quite a bit tonight.”
“She didn’t know anyone at the party besides you and Oliver. You guys were busy hosting. So I thought I’d keep her company.” Answering too quickly was his first mistake, the defensiveness already lacing in his voice.
“Hmm, okay. So why didn’t you mention your fiancée to her then?”
The back and forth interrogation was his final straw.
Rubbing his temple with force, his voice is low yet clearly now frustrated. “I’m not exactly in the happiest relationship, Mo. You fucking know that. I didn’t feel like bringing her up.”
“Does that answer your fucking question? Instead of interrogating me, you should be asking questions to that husband of yours.”
Tension was already in the air but now it seems like it wasn’t going to fizzle out anytime soon all thanks to her.
Sae, with his usual monotone expression, widens his eyes, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. As for Charles, he looks up from his phone again, meeting Sae’s gaze in the mirror with a ‘Well damn’.
And to add salt to the injury, Momo just lets out a quiet chuckle, still unfazed. “ Oh you definitely just answered my question. Just don’t do some shit Oliver would do, ‘kay? Love you Ryu.”
She doesn’t wait for him to respond. She simply hangs up and Ryusei just stares down at his phone that he’s gripping ever so harshly before shoving it back in his pocket like nothing happened.
Of course, neither Sae nor Charles were going to break the silence just yet.
Ryusei just needed to cool off first.
— ݁ᛪ༙
Nothing beats a Tokyo sunrise.
Hues of soft pink, burnt orange and lavender bleeds into each other while the sky blooms in. The city is still half asleep beneath it but Ryusei stands awake, staring up at the sky as he catches his breath.
He’s been up since twilight, working himself to exhaustion to distract himself from his emotions. Sweat clings to his broad frame, his shirt damp from rounds of push ups and sprints.
Anything to keep his thoughts from catching up to him.
Sae and Charles had shown up halfway through to join him through his workout. Definitely not because they were hoping that he’d address the phone call with Momo last night.
But that was the last thing he wanted to talk about.
He really wanted to talk about Lyra… and he wishes he could talk about it with Momo. But after the stunt she pulled over the phone last night, she made it clear that she isn’t in favor of Ryusei getting close to Lyra. Not when he’s in a relationship.
So now, the three men stare at the sunrise in silence as they sit in the grass. He could talk about it with Sae and Charles. He internally groans at the thought. Sae is so nonchalant about everything and Charles is just unhinged and unserious. He prefers Momo for this stuff because she gives really good advice and is an active listener.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to them. They clearly want to know. Why else would they join him for a workout so early in the morning.
“I’m in a bit of a dilemma.” Ryusei finally says, breaking the silence.
Charles glances at him, then at Sae until they exchange a look with their eyebrows raised. They knew what this was about Lyra.
“Yeah, that conversation last night was… pretty intense.” Charles interjects with a chuckle.
Ryusei lets out a quiet groan. “Mo just knows how to get under my skin.”
Sae doesn’t look away from the sunrise. “This isn't about Mori-sama,” he states simply. “It's about Lyra.”
“And from what I heard it sounds like you like this girl.” Charles rips off the bandaid, grinning whilst leaning back on his hands.
Ryusei’s throat tightens. There’s no point in denying it now. So he finally admits softly, “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Charles nonchalantly asks, “Oliver has plenty of side pieces, why can’t you?”
Sae shoots Charles a sharp look of disgust. Ryusei just stares straight ahead, questioning and regretting why he said anything to them in the first place.
“Because Ryu has some decency.” Sae deadpans, no emotion lacing in his voice. “His father would scoop out his right eye with a dull spoon if he messed up his arranged marriage for random pussy. You can’t forget their marriage is a business proposal.”
His harsh words stun both Ryusei and Charles in silence. There’s some truth in his words and maybe accepting this arranged marriage really was Ryusei’s fate.
But what’s the point in settling for less when he knows it’s fabricated love?
“Hime already thinks he’s cheating,” Charles adds after a pause. “I don't see the problem.”
Sae rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
Ryusei knows that Sae’s right but Charles isn’t completely wrong either. Hime barely trusts him. Even when he’s never given her a reason not to, she still waits for him to slip up.
“Tell me you're not siding with this dumbass?” Sae snaps at him, furrowing his brows. “Don't give Hime a real reason to not trust you. Besides, Lyra isn't a yakuza. She doesn’t seem like the type that could handle this lifestyle.”
Yet, Ryusei has still fallen silent. He knows that she isn’t built for his kind of world. That’s exactly why he likes her. There’s an innocence to her that he wants to explore, completely untouched and soft in ways that he hasn’t seen in years.
She’s like an angel to him, wanting to protect her rather than ruin.
“Oooh!” Charles snaps his fingers, an idea now beaming in his mind. “What if you get her pregnant? Everyone would have to cooperate then!”
Correction, an unhinged idea that causes both Ryusei and Sae to whip their heads toward him. And to top it off, the sound of Sae’s hand smacking the back of Charles’s head cuts through the morning air.
“Ryusei, this isn’t a dilemma.” Sae’s voice is steady when looking at Ryusei, leaving him with his final words. “ You know what you need to do, end of story.”
— ݁ᛪ༙
The week drags on so you’d think that Oliver’s cheating would’ve died down, especially after being on his best behaviour at the cocktail party and presenting himself as this doting yakuza husband.
But if anything, it only got worse.
His antics that Momo had grown to be a norm for her was slowly killing her alive. Late nights turn into early mornings. Cheap lipstick stains grazes his skin that he couldn’t even make the effort to get rid of.
Hell, he couldn’t even bother to make his excuses sound real anymore.
So what’s his best bet? Well it’s simple, it’s to rarely be home, going days without contact and disguising it as ‘yakuza business’. The house is quiet, too quiet for her liking where she needed someone to confide in as always.
That ‘someone’ being Ryusei but in all honesty, with how their phone call went a couple nights ago, she wouldn’t blame him for distancing himself from her as well.
Of course, Momo didn’t realise that she hit too close to the truth he wasn’t ready to face yet. Being called out and putting his pride first before anything resulted in him not reaching out to her either.
Her loneliness needed to be combatted, someone familiar needed to know her silent suffering and the thoughts invading her mind.
“Thank you for coming over at such short notice.” Momo says quietly as she sets down a tray with hot tea and various deserts on the table.
“Anything for you,” you respond, sliding off the couch and onto the floor beside her. “So, what’s going on?”
It shouldn’t have even been a question. Her slumped shoulders and puffy bloodshot eyes speaks for itself.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what's wrong.
“It’s Oliver.” She mutters, pouring two cups of tea. “This whole week he’s been cheating.”
You can't say that you’re surprised, not even hiding your disappointment when you let out the sharpest exhale and shake your head. But that doesn’t mean you’re not willing to comfort her, the touch on her shoulder is enough to let her know that she isn’t alone in this.
“He’s such a man whore. I don’t understand why he keeps doing this to you.”
“I don’t know either…” her voice falters only for a moment before turning stern and low. “But what I do know is that I want my lick back.”
“Oh?” You raise your brows, taking another sip of your tea. “What are you thinking?”
It doesn’t even surprise you that Momo wants revenge. She’s the most cut throat person you know. She’s brutal when pushed but her loyalty to her clan and her love for her parents overshadows her own motives which is why she’s been an obedient yakuza wife.
“I-” she starts but a sudden knock at the door interrupts her. She stands slowly, irritation lacing in her voice “Who is that?”
You snuck another bite of the desserts as she walks to the door, disappearing from your view. But mid-bite, a familiar smooth voice catches your attention.
“You don’t look too good.” The voice rings out.
“You came all this way to tell me I look bad…” Momo spits out, annoyance sharpening her tone.
“No, I came to say sorry for being a defensive baby. Not my place to talk about your relationship when mine’s just as bad.”
“That's nice of you to apologize,” she runs her fingers through her locks, her other hand motioning to herself. “But let’s face it, you’re right. I haven’t seen Oliver this whole week… hence why I look like this.”
“Let’s put on a movie and order takeout. That always cheers you up.” He offers casually, urging to get inside.
“I can’t right now.”
“What? You too busy crying?”
Before Momo could protest, he pushes past her and straight into her living room.
Your eyes met with the one person you were least expecting to see yet didn’t want anything to do with.
Ryusei, who leans against the door frame like he owned the damn living room.
Why on earth did he have to show up?
You haven’t spoken to him since the cocktail party, since finding out about his fiancée so appearing before you was the last thing you needed.
“Y/N’s here.” Momo muttered awkwardly, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck.
“That’s fine. Why would that be a problem?” Ryusei nonchalantly shrugs, acting as if nothing happened, acting as if he doesn’t notice the growing tension between you two. “You can catch us both up on what's been happening with Oliver.”
You and Momo exchange a quick glance, silently agreeing to put the tension aside for now. As annoying as it was, Ryusei is right. Momo needs you both right now so whatever mess lingered between you two could wait.
“Yeah,” you force a small smile on your face. “Tell us what’s been going on.”
Ryusei strolls over to the couch opposite you while Momo pouts a little, visibly touched by your willingness to cooperate.
“Thank you guys. As you both know, Oliver has been cheating, again. What’s fucking new.” She sinks to the floor between the two of you, leaning back against the coffee table.“He hasn’t spent one night home this week and I’m sick and tired of him playing in my face.”
“You sound angry.” He sings, teasing edging in his voice. “Sounds like you want revenge. What’re you thinking?”
“Oh, I’m cheating back.” Momo says plane and simple.
You and Ryusei exchange a quick glance. It’s a bold move from her but it’s to be expected with the amount of bullshit she’s had to endure. Oliver might seem composed on the outside but surely he has to have a crazy streak in him. He’s literally a yakuza.
“As much as I love that you’re giving Oliver a taste of his own medicine…” you chime in, nibbling on another dessert. “Aren’t you a little afraid of how he’s going to react?”
“Yea Mo,” Ryusei agrees. “He’s a calm guy most of the time but he's a yakuza… I feel like he’d go berserk.”
“Then he can take that up with God.” Momo shrugs, already adamant with the choice she’s making.
A wicked giggle leaves Ryusei’s lips before saying, “Your mind is made up, huh? I bet you already found a guy.”
“Of course, I have. He’s hot too.”
“He family?”
You furrow your brows at his statement. Is he implying that Momo would go as far as to fuck someone close to Oliver?
Momo rolls her eyes, scoffing harshly. “You think I’d stoop that low? Of course not. He’s a random.”
“I know you’d stoop that low. Just be careful, Mo.” Ryusei responds flatly, giving her a stern look.
Before she can even respond, her phone begins ringing causing her to get up and get it.
“It’s my dad. I’m gonna step out on the balcony and take this.” She shoots you both a look before heading towards the balcony with her phone resting against the shell of her ear. “Konbanwa, papa….. un, genki janai desu.” (Good evening dad....yeah, I’m not feeling well.” As she slips out to her balcony.
Once the door slides shut, it’s just you and Ryusei. While he turns his head back to see if Momo is paying attention to them at all, your eyes stay locked in on your phone, mindlessly scrolling on social media as a way to avoid talking to him.
Ryusei wasn’t born yesterday. He knew that you were still bothered by him not telling you the truth. So leaning back on the couch, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and decides to DM you.
Ryu.Shdo
you mad at me?
Is he really doing this right now? He needs to give it up already so being the stubborn person you are, you ignore the message and swipe the notification bar away.
Ryu.Shdo
coommeee on dont be like that
You ignore that one too and go back to mindlessly scrolling. He doesn’t deserve to even get to talk to you and you’re one more message away from blocking him.
You’re expecting another message but a pillow smacking your head is what gets delivered to you instead, knocking your phone clean out your hand. Gasping out loud, you’re quick to grab it, hurling it back at him.
Smug as ever, he catches it mid-air and without effort. “Gotta throw harder than that.”
Your lips are urging to curl upwards, the faintest smile almost exposing itself for him to see. Finally, you lift your phone that fell out of your grasp and start texting him back.
You
Why would you not tell me you have a fiancée?
Ryu.Shdo
It’s complicated but I have no problem explaining it to you. When are you free this week?
You clench your thighs together as you stare at his message. He could just tell you over the phone but he wants to have an excuse to see you again. You know what he’s doing and you’re falling right into his trap.
His wolf-ish grin grows wider all while watching you from across the couch as you slowly text him back.
You
Tomorrow @ 7:45
Ryu.Shdo
Great. I’ll drop a pin an hour before.
Ryusei slides his phone back in his hoodie pocket just as Momo reenters the room, closing the sliding door behind her with an unreadable expression. “Sorry, I had to take that. Hope it wasn’t too awkward.”
“No, not at all.” You reassure, waving your hand dismissively.
While Momo plops herself back down on the floor, Ryusei slyly winks at you, causing you to quickly avert your gaze.
She ends up sitting directly on the pillow that was once thrown, causing her to shift slightly and move it out her way.
“Ugh, I wasn’t sitting on this…”
“Nah you were sitting on it. All that crying’s making you delusional.”
You scoff harshly, witnessing the man who you shouldn’t be having a soft spot for, shamelessly gaslight your best friend.
— ݁ᛪ༙
You spot Ryusei before he notices you, leaning casually against a park bench. You’re twenty minutes late so when he finally notices you, he doesn’t seem mad, just amused.
Either way, you’re glad that he’s still waiting for you.
“Heeyy,” he drawls, pushing off the bench and strolling towards you. “Look who finally decided to show up. Thought you stood me up, shorty.”
He slides an arm around your shoulders in a loose side hug, his spiced cologne already faint in the air between you.
He’s dressed like he’s trying to blend in as much as possible. A black baseball cap, black sweater, grey shorts with white sneakers yet he doesn’t shy away from keeping you close as you fall into step beside him. Maybe it was to keep the conversation low and in between the two of you?
“Nah,” you answer, straight to the point. “I wouldn’t stand you up. Not when I'm finally getting an explanation out of you.”
“Straight to business, I see.” Ryusei sings, a teasing tilt in his voice.
He starts from the beginning. His words are careful, making sure they’re as vague as possible before leaving his lips. But from what Momo has told you, you can fill in some of the gaps.
Ryusei isn’t angry about the role he plays in his family's clan. That’s not the problem. What aggravates him is the old traditional rules where he lacks the freedom to choose what he wants. He still believes there’s another way to uphold the family clan. One that doesn’t involve being locked into an arranged marriage.
Even with the cards he’s dealt, he remains sure that in the end he will have the freedom he craves so desperately for.
“To find out you’re getting married at sixteen…” your voice softens, almost a whisper. “That’s like a death sentence.”
“Tell me about it,” his voice drops low. “I never had a girlfriend until Hime…. Obviously, I had flings but… nothing serious.”
“You didn’t even get to experience anything. So… you’re really stuck marrying her?”
“Well,” he looks ahead, jaw tightening. “There’s a way out but it can’t be my fault. If it is, my dad would kill me. I wish I was joking.”
You slow your steps, looking up at him. “How long have you felt like this?”
“A few years..”
There’s something unspoken in his tone, a tiredness you recognise. You hate that he’s been carrying this alone, aside from Momo. And here he is, revealing a side to him you never thought you’d get to see.
For him, it's validating. Finally meeting you and seeing that the perception of you that he’s built for so long was true. You were just as down to earth as Momo described you for all those years.
He had to come clean.
“Can l be honest?” He says suddenly.
“Sure.”
“I’ve been avoiding you for years.”
Your expression changes completely to now startled. “…What?”
He catches your reaction and continues. “Let me explain… when Mo first told me about you, I was over the moon that she made a new friend. She’d go on for hours about how funny and kind you were, show me all these pictures of you, tell me stories… and over time, I found myself crushing on you.”
His smile turns sheepish. “I was so nervous when I finally met you. It was hard… when I saw you in person.” he trails off.
You can't help the small laugh that leaves your lips. “Yeah? It was hard?”
His cheeks are completely flushed, smiling from ear to ear as he gets a rush of endorphins. Your sense of humor is just like his.
“It sure was. The dress you were wearing? Oh god, felt like I was gonna explode.”
You both laugh, the tension breaking for a moment. His arm tightens around your shoulders the further you keep on walking as you get to know each other more.
As the sun disappears and shadows stretch long over the grass until streetlamps finally awake, Ryusei offers to walk you home.
And of course, you accept his offer.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Turning around the corner and arriving at your front door, he pulls you into a close hug. The warmth of him seeps into you, his smoky citrus scent that curls around you.
You glance up at him, face inches apart yet you both end up exchanging a little laugh, trying your best to play it cool.
“I appreciate you coming here today and explaining everything.”
“Anytime, Angel.” He murmurs, eyes locked on yours. His hands are still at the small of your back, holding you there, never letting you go.
“I hope you get home safe and have a good night.” You mumble, but your gaze dips briefly to his mouth.
“You sure you want me to have a good night?” His words are almost a dare, quiet enough for only you to hear.
“Of course, I do.”
“Then you’d let me kiss you.”
“Ryusei…we can’t.” You say it, but it feels like you’re talking yourself down more than him.
“You must not want me to have a good night then…”
The way he’s looking at you, teasing, smooth, like he already knows what you want. He’s testing you and you were so close to folding. The way he spoke to you puts you in a trance. You couldn't deny that you were attracted to him.
Your eyes keep lingering on his lips as you rise slightly onto your toes. He bends down, leaning in to take his chance, not having a care in the world if he’s in a trapped arranged marriage.
The space between you keeps shrinking but suddenly expands once his phone goes off ringing. You both freeze, snapping you out the moment and the name flashing on his phone is clear to who it is.
Hime.
“You better get going.”
He glances at the screen one last time then back at you. “… Yeah. I’ll text you.”
You watch him disappear into the night, his voice now faint but his tone is rough and agitated when he speaks to his fiancée on the phone.
You let the almost-kiss linger roam in your mind, reluctantly accepting that maybe it was for the best that it never happened.
— ݁ᛪ༙
All it took was a week for those texts to turn into calls and the calls to turn into hangouts. Ryusei was addicted to being around you. Every free moment you two had was spent thinking about each other. So much so that the two of you stopped being available for Momo.
Momo would call and text both of her friends for the past week. It was either “I’m busy.” Or “I have work in the morning.” What she didn’t know was that her two friends were sneaking around behind her back.
Let’s not forget to mention Hime, Ryusei’s fiancée. Since the Hebi-Kai cocktail party, she had been spending every night alone. She didn’t apologize for the scene she caused. She didn’t see a reason to. In her mind, she did nothing wrong and that level of arrogance made it easier for Ryusei to push away.
Why would he go back to her silent judgement when you get his endorphins flowing like never before?
No sex of course but sometimes it was getting close. Too close.
The hangout consists of Ryusei grinding his growing bulge on your ass as he passes by you in your tiny apartment. He knows you felt that, how could you not? He was so hard, his dick was oozing precum just from the small bit of friction from you.
You weren’t innocent in this moment either. You were trying the best of your ability to not give in but the next thing you knew he was holding you in place as he grinded his boner on your ass. One hand on your hip while the other cups your face.
“Ahhh, I wanna fuck you so bad.” He practically whines in your ear.
Your lips never met his, you told yourself you wouldn’t…However, Ryusei did find himself rubbing your clit through your panties to the point of making you cum. All while whispering in your ear saying, “Look how wet you are. I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
You two both developed this… logic that if the clothes stay on, it doesn’t count. So you’re both testing the limits of just how creative you could get.
You two invested in each other so much that neither of you noticed when Momo stopped trying to reach out entirely. She didn’t just stop calling you and Ryusei. She stopped calling everyone.
Including Oliver.
It didn’t take long for him to notice his wife’s silence louder than any of her usual sharp words. He knew that she was upset with him and so by the fifth day, he walked into an empty home.
“My lil angel is rebelling against me.” Oliver mutters under his breath, checking your location on his phone.
Momo stopped feeling sorry for herself and got dressed in the sexiest clothes. With a body and face like hers, Momo knew she could bag any man or woman wherever she went. She wanted to find someone that could make her forget about Oliver.
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“I’m down bad, Fumikage…” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. A deep sigh followed his words.
“Just ask her out. The worst she can say is no.” Fumikage replies.
Keigo had invited Fumikage out for drinks. He needed someone to talk about his latest…issue. He had developed feelings for a coworker, and not just any coworker. She’s a potential collaborator for the project he and Ochaco have been working on. She works for a similar nonprofit organization where she’s from and was sent to see if the company wants to expand the organization here in Japan.
“I don't even care to be unprofessional, I just don’t want to ruin this for Ochaco or the kids in the program.” He groans and rolls his eyes. “I’m the damn President. I SHOULD be able to do what I want.” He mumbles under his breath.
Fumikage shakes his head out of disappointment and says “But your actions reflect the HPSC. You know this.”
“Yea, I’m aware…..” he sighs.
Once again, he feels disdain towards the commission. A feeling that comes to him often. As long as the commission exists, he feels that it’s his burden to bear….quite the masochist.
“Mr. President?” He feels a gentle tap on his shoulder.
A devilish smirk grows on Keigo’s face as he realizes who’s behind him. Fumikage lets out a scoff, knowing who you are without having met you. Keigo’s smirk tells him everything he needs to know. He turns around to face you and says, “Heeeyy, what are you doing here?”
He stands up and checks you out. His eyes quickly grazed up and down your body. You had just come back from getting dinner with Ochaco and a few of her friends. You're wearing a black spaghetti strapped, A-line mini dress and a dark red leather jacket. He leans over and gives you a friendly hug; resting his hand on the small of your back. You smile at him and say, “This bar is right next to my hotel. I wanted to stop and get a drink before turning in for the night.”
“I see.” He says keeping his hand on the small of your back as he loosens the hug. “Fumikage, this is L/N F/N. She’s the woman I was talking about earlier. Good things….great things even…haha…This is Fumikage Tokoyami. He’s a good friend of mine.”
Oh god, why did he say he was talking about you earlier..and why did he say it like that. Your mind can’t help but to wonder what was said. You also wonder why his hand is still on the small of your back but you really don’t mind because you find him attractive. He’s charming and always makes you laugh. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him in that way.
“Nice to meet you, Tokoyami.” You bow slightly, showing respect.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He stands up and bows slightly in your direction. “ I would love to stay and hang out but I was just heading out actually. I have to patrol in the morning.”
Keigo moves his hand from your back and pats Fumikage on the shoulder and says, “I wouldn't want to keep you, man. I’ll see you later this week?”
“Yes of course. See you later, Mr.President.” Fumikage teases.
Keigo lets out a laugh and says, “Fly safe.”
He pulls out the barstool that Fumikage was sitting in and says, “Can I buy you a drink?”
You knew this was a bad idea but you wanted to do it anyway. You could lose your job if this goes any further than just a drink. The company you work for sent you here because you were unbiased. You had to make the decision if it would be a good idea to go into business with Japan’s HPSC.
“Mr.President, you don't have to do that.” You say keeping a smile on your face.
“I insist, please. You said you wanted one and I’m more than happy to buy it for you.”
You give in and take a seat in the chair. He pushed the chair in as if you weighed nothing. He takes a seat next to you and asks, “What do you like to drink?”
“Umeshu, it’s my favorite.” You say.
“Ahh, you like it sweet. So do I.” That smirk has not left his face. Everything that comes out of his mouth sounds like he’s flirting with you.
The bartender comes over to the two of you and takes your order. He comes back with a glass of fruit wine and sets it in front of you. Keigo thanks him.
“Thank you, Mr.President.”
“My pleasure. You don’t have to be so formal, Y/N. Call me Keigo.” He says with a genuine smile on his face.
“Keigo, that name fits you.” You say taking a sip of your wine.
“You think so? I only used to go by my Hero name before the war.”
“Oh? And what was that?” You play dumb as if you didn’t spend hours researching him before coming to Japan, one month ago.
“Hawks.” He states.
“That name also fits you. I don’t mean this in a bad way but you can be intimidating.” You say holding back a laugh.
“Whhaaaa, me? Intimidating?” He gives you an intense stare while cocking his head to the side and saying, “How so?”
The way he looked at you sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m sure you’ve heard the expression ‘watch like a hawk.’ Your stare is just intense.” You say honestly.
“Haha, that is true. I’m a really laid back guy though, I swear.”
“Oh I know you are. Since I’ve met you a month ago, I’ve been questioning how you maintain such a calm composure being the president of the HPSC. I haven’t seen you crack once.”
You take another sip of your wine, finishing it. Keigo notices, and immediately asks, “You want another glass?”
You should go back to the hotel but you’re really enjoying this conversation. He seems to be enjoying it too. You take off your leather jacket, revealing your collar bones and a bit of cleavage. You hang your jacket on the back of your bar chair and fix your spaghetti straps. Keigo had never seen you outside of your office clothes before. It was quite the sight for him. There’s no denying he wanted you.
“Yea, I’ll take another one. Thank you Keigo.” You say.
He orders you another glass and refills his. You raise your now full glass near him and he clinks his cup to yours. You both take a sip.
“What’s life like for you back in your country? Are you married, have a partner, or kids?” He slyly asks.
You’re smirking at him now, because you know what he’s doing…and you’re not stopping him. He lets out a small laugh, knowing that you know.
“No, I'm not married, no partner and I have no kids. I just work and travel and travel for work.”
He perks up hearing that you aren’t married and have no kids. He does see a ring on your finger from time to time so he had to confirm.
“What a shame. You’re a beautiful woman, Y/N. Anybody would be lucky to have you.” He says looking straight at you. Not an ounce of hesitation.
The way he was speaking to you combined with the wine had you feeling perfect.
“Thank you, Keigo. That’s very nice of you to say. What about you? Any secret children the world doesn’t know about?” You joke.
“Haha, no. I’m not taken but if I was, I think my girlfriend would look a lot like you.” He says nonchalantly.
“Oh really?” You say with a slight giggle.
“I’m just sayin!” He flashes that charming smile at you.
You both laugh at his statement. You both played it off but this entire exchange was turning you on. Keigo was good at hiding it but he would fold for you in a second. You kept going back and forth with your decision, should you invite him to your hotel or should you go home alone? If you don’t leave with him, it’s gonna be a long night of you pleasuring yourself… and you just knew your hands couldn’t do what he could.
“Keigo….I think I’m gonna head back to my hotel.” You gently place your hands on top of his and say, “Will you walk me?”
You’d never seen his face light up as quickly as it did. He nods his head yes and pulls out his wallet. He grabs ¥3,000 and goes over to the bartender to pay the tab. He had already done the math in his head for how much the bill would be. When he comes back, he grabs your jacket off the back of your chair. You stand up and let him help you put it on.
“You in a hurry?” You ask as you both head to the exit.
He starts to slightly blush as he holds the door open for you.
“I just didn’t want to keep you waiting.” He says placing his hand on the back of his neck.
You walk through the door and he follows you. The walk to the hotel was pretty silent. You both were thinking of the consequences this would bring. But what about the pleasure? It had been awhile since both of you had been laid and you were already so wet just from the conversation back at the bar. Maybe one night wouldn’t hurt.
“This is my hotel.” You say nervously as you stand in front of him. Your eyes kept darting to his lips. You wanted to kiss him.
“Y/N, tell me if I’m wrong but I get the feeling you want me to kiss you right now?” Lust weighing down his voice like iron.
Your face burned at his observation. Thank god he couldn’t tell. He moves closer to you, your faces a hairbreadth apart from each other. He pushes your hair off your shoulder revealing your neck to him.
“Am I right or…” he whispers in your ear.
He knows he’s right, why is he even playing these games with you? The longer you take to decide, the longer he will tease you.
“You’re right, Mr. President…but we can’t down here.” You stay perfectly still as you feel his breath hit your neck.
“What a shame. If only someone had a hotel room in this hotel we’re standing in front of.” He teases.
This was eating you alive and he didn’t care in the slightest. He wanted you to say yes so badly and you wanted that too.
“Are you thirsty?” You say changing the subject.
He backs away from your ear and says, “so thirsty.”
“I have water in my room, upstairs. Let’s go.” You say grabbing your room key.
You both head into the hotel, opening the main entrance and elevator with your key. Once you both were inside the elevator, Keigo grabs your waist. He gently pushes you against the wall as he presses his lips against yours. You grab both sides of his face, your fingers grazing the scar on his jawline. His tongue made its way into the kiss as he placed his hands under your mini dress to feel your ass. He moaned lightly as you bit his lip. He could’ve taken you right in this elevator if he wanted too.
DING!
Suddenly his hands and mouth were off you. He cleared his throat and adjusted his blazer as the elevator doors opened. You were disheveled, in disbelief he would stop so suddenly. You adjust your dress and take a step out the elevator as the doors open, he follows you.
“Really looking forward to this water.”
I don’t think you all understand how I wrote this in little to no time. I LOVE writing about Hawks! Hes the reason I started writing fanfics again. Ugh part 2 is about to go HARD >:)
݁ᛪ༙ ft. Yakuza AU ➜ Yakuza husband! Oliver Aiku x Yakuza wife! Reader x Yakuza fiancé! Ryusei Shidou x Female! Reader
݁ᛪ༙ summary. In the Yakuza world, it’s easy to be corrupted. Bound by crime, power and forbidden desire, loving a yakuza comes at a cost. When choices intertwine, secrets spill… risks are made. So with a cheating husband, a faithful yakuza wife, an engaged fiancé and an innocent civilian—what consequences will they face?
݁ᛪ༙ co-written by. @nakidoriii
݁ᛪ༙ tags in this ch. Heavy love triangle tension, alcohol consumption, emotional conflict, various characters, deceitful behaviour (not as many tags here apart from just being a lot of heavy tension and angst in this chapter 😭)
݁ᛪ༙ word count. 5.7k
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[y/n] is MOMO
You really weren’t kidding when you said that you’d be outside of Lyra’s place by 9AM.
And Lyra definitely lied when she said that she’d be sure to be ready by 9AM.
It’s taken seven knocks on the front door for Lyra to finally answer, swinging the door open to reveal her rushed attempt at getting ready.
Her locks are in a frenzy, half-lidded eyes that make it obvious that she woke up just five minutes ago and her choice of attire looks very last minute.
“What happened to ‘I’ll be ready by 9’, hm?” You question, crossing your arms with a knowing smirk on your face.
Lyra sheepishly smiles, scratching her head. “Overslept.”
There’s not really much more you can say to her, grabbing a hold of her arm and yanking her out of her apartment to spend the day together before the cocktail party.
Surprisingly, the day went a lot quicker than you expected.
Like you promised, you took Lyra to the same nail salon that you went to yesterday, tapping away on your phone whilst Lyra settles for French tip acrylic nails. You remembered that with the money Oliver gave her to buy a dress for tonight’s event, the next stop was to a lavish boutique.
“What do you think of this?” Lyra mumbled, raising the long ivory strapless dress to her chest as she stared at the full body mirror.
“I love it,” you say, holding a basket filled with a bunch of gold accessories and some cute tops. “I 100% think you should get that one.”
And it's not long before the both of you part ways to then see each other again later tonight.
Which brings you to now.
Numerous crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, dim lighting glows throughout the huge ballroom and tables are set up accordingly. The staff that Oliver hired for this cocktail party did a pretty good job at making everything sleek and elegant.
And speaking of Oliver, he’s pulled you along with him towards the ballroom floor.
His calloused hand snaking around your waist whilst the other is splayed against your back that covers your dragon tattoo . The bottom of your crimson backless dress brushes against the polished floor as he urges you into a slow dance.
“God, you’re so breathtaking, y’know that?” He murmurs against your ear, his fingers digging into your hips, swaying you gently against him.
“Thank you, honey.” you giggle softly, your hands already wrapped around his neck. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”
And you weren’t lying. He’s decided to go with a long oversized black coat with red lining on the inside, a black button down shirt that reveals his toned chest slightly and wide-leg black trousers.
He notices the way you keep eyeing him up and down, only making him chuckle as his hand glides up your bare back. From the corner of his eye, he can see Ryusei and Hime, along with some other guests who have now arrived.
While Ryusei is dressed correctly for the occasion, Hime is dressed like she’s attending the Met Gala. A shimmering gold gown with a strapless neckline slings to her body with a long train attached to the back and large puffy white sleeves.
You tilt your head at Oliver’s expression, looking over your shoulder to see Ryusei and his fiancée. Oliver laces his hand in yours and pulls you along to greet the both of them.
Ryusei has his hand in his suit pocket, the other lingering around Hime’s waist. Her face instantly screws, like she doesn’t want Ryusei’s hands touching her elegant dress so she shifts slightly, brushing against his beige suit jacket.
“Ryu, is that you?” You tease, taking in his attire. “You look like a different man. One that does taxes and smokes cigars.”
“You just described your husband.” Ryusei quips back, a smirk now on his lips when shooting a stare straight at Oliver.
Oliver drags a hand down his face, letting out a groan. “Why the fuck am I catching a stray?”
The three of you begin to laugh a bit, everything seeming relaxed as the cocktail party begins to start.
The only person who isn’t laughing however, is Hime. While you talk to the men briefly, she rolls her eyes, still not engaging in the conversation nor has she even greeted you or Oliver.
Oliver and Ryusei have now caught onto her silence and thanks to her it’s turned into an awkward one.
But it’s not long until Oliver clears his throat, trying to break the ice. “How are you, Hime?”
“Fine.” She responds like she’s bored but she still doesn’t acknowledge you. She doesn’t hide the fact that she hates to see you and Ryusei interact in any way.
But Ryusei doesn’t hide the fact that he’s now staring intensely into Hime’s eyes. His nails dig into her corseted waist, gripping it in place as he gives her a look of: Fucking greet her or you’ll never hear the end of this.
She sharply exhales and finally says, “Hello, Mori-sama. You look… pretty.”
Her emphasis on ‘pretty’ makes you scoff under your breath as she continues to look up and down your dress.
Oliver’s eyes quite literally go wide and Ryusei lets out an annoyed groan.
Even at you and Oliver’s party, she still finds a way to be a bitch.
But nonetheless, you put on your brightest fake smile and respond with, “Hello Kin-sama. Your outfit is so… unique. You’re so brave for wearing that!”
You definitely struck a nerve.
Oliver and Ryusei quickly turn their heads to the side, trying to hold back their laughter and that pisses her off even more.
Hime clenches her fists by her side, already about to open her mouth but Ryusei places a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention. “Why don’t you go to the bar and get a drink. I’ll join you there shortly.”
Her brows snap together, still contemplating whether to listen to him or not. But she knew better than to not argue with him since it would’ve ended up being messy between you and her.
So begrudgingly, she rolls her eyes, shrugging her shoulders for Ryusei to let go before heading straight over to the bar.
“Warugaki (spoiled brat)” You murmur under your breath. But you follow it up with,“Anyways, before I forget, I invited Lyra, she should be here in the next 10 minutes.”
Oliver simply hums in response, already knowing that she would be arriving anytime soon since he instructed Barou to pick you up.
But Ryusei on the other hand? He's let out a choked cough that has you and Oliver looking at him right away.
“Oh. Lyra?”
“Yea…Lyra… is there a problem?”
“No…not at all.”
You’re both staring back at each other, making the same confused expression. Ryusei had no idea that your friend would be coming to this party tonight and it doesn’t make it any better when his fiancée is also here with him.
But he tries to play it cool, even if he’s failing terribly.
“Okay…well, don't go too far. She should be here soon.” You finally say as you and Oliver notice familiar guests that are now walking over to greet you both.
He leaves you and Oliver to attend to other guests, casually strolling over to his now pissed off fiancée like everything is perfectly fine.
For the sake of his relationship and to not succumb to the feelings he’s had for your friend for so long, he has to act like everything is fine.
His broad back rests against the bar, his fuchsia eyes flicking at Hime as she crosses her bare leg over the other, gripping the martini glass to the point it might break.
But before Ryusei can get a word, she finally breaks.
“I don’t like how she spoke to me.”
“You started it?”
“I told her she looked pretty.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. You said it in a condescending tone,” Ryusei now looks her dead in the eye, his gaze never softening. “Hime, they were fucking nice enough to invite you to this party. The least you could do is be nice to her.”
“I’ll be nice to her when she stops flirting with you!” The martini glass that was once in her hand slams down on the bar top, causing it to spill all over the counter.
The commotion she’s now caused has a couple of the guests staring at the two of them, whispering God knows what but he’s not surprised if they’re wondering if them two are even compatible.
He’s been knowing from the moment he got in this arranged marriage that they were never compatible.
“You know what, I’m not dealing with this shit tonight.” He kisses his teeth so hard but he doesn’t care, pushing himself off where he leaves Hime all alone at the bar to keep feeding herself more delusions.
It’s times like these where he wonders if he could be happier with someone else.
Someone like–
— ݁ᛪ༙
[y/n] is LYRA
“You look nervous.” Barou says as he opens the car door for you.
Of course you’re nervous.
To know that you’re the only non yakuza attending a cocktail party is making your palms produce so much sweat that you have to quickly shake it off.
Your front door is right behind you, coaxing you to just turn your ass back around, tell Barou to just let Momo and Oliver know that you changed your mind and go to the comfort of your double bed.
But you don't.
Standing at the top of the short staircase that leads you to Barou, you grasp onto the railing to steady yourself in your white stiletto heels as you make your way over to him.
“And here I thought you were going to compliment me.” You finally respond, bunching up the bottom of your ivory strapless dress to avoid it from touching the pavement.
“This is definitely the nicest I've seen you look.” He jokes as he offers you his hand to get into the car. You don’t notice it but when accepting his hand, his ears slip into a warmer shade.
“I guess that’s a compliment coming from you.” You chuckle, using his hand as a guide when getting into the car.
He shuts the door before making his way to the driver's seat. You adjust your matching neck scarf, making sure it drapes perfectly across your neck. Definitely not because your nerves have now travelled up your skin.
Barou's gaze fixes on you from the rear view mirror, starting up the car where he occasionally focuses on the road. “I can’t recall you ever attending one of our cocktail parties. Is this your first one?”
You're avoiding his intense gaze, your hand finds its way in your handbag and when you pull out your lip gloss to smear the glistening gloss on your lips, you mumble. “Yeah, it is.”
“So that’s why you're nervous,” he points out, like stating the obvious is meant to help with your nervous state. “I’ve met most of the people who will be at the party, they won't bite or anything. ”
A sharp exhale slips past your now glossy lips, setting your phone down on your lap.“Yeah but you're a yakuza and I’m not. I’m sure everyone will notice.”
“You’re not wrong. They’ll definitely notice but…” he takes a turn onto another road before stopping at a red light, giving him time to turn on the AC to allow the cool air in the car. Air is what you need. Words of reassurance and cool air to get rid of the sweat almost seeping through your white dress.
“They will also notice that you’re close with Mori-sama and Oliver. So they won’t say anything to you.”
You knew that he was right. Everyone is there because of Momo and Oliver and you’re their personal guest. You take in Barou’s words and trust that things will be fine.
That is until you get there.
The ignition dies down when Barou finally arrives at the destination. You don't know what’s more overwhelming: how elegant the ballroom building is or the number of yakuza members you can see leaning against their fancy cars as they’re just about to head inside.
From Koi fish to hannya masks to skull tattoos, it's all you can see that inks on various parts of their body, making you feel not only naked but an outsider.
Barou is quick to step out the car before you, opening the passenger door and that's when you spot your best friend in a beautiful crimson gown. Her hips swaying as she walks and greets the guests she passes before getting to you.
“Mo, You look so good! Oh my god!” You squeal, taking a step back to really take in how stunning she looked.
“Girl, look at you? I'd leave my husband right now if you wanted me too.” She jokes but you’re not opposed to the idea if it meant you were no longer single.
You laugh as she pulls you in for a hug. “Thank you for inviting me, I didn’t think there would be so many Yakuza here…”
Momo releases you from her embrace, glancing around before shrugging her shoulders. “It’s just the higher ranking ones.”
Just higher ranking ones? Yeah, that might’ve been the last straw for you.
You slowly turn your body back towards the car where Barou casually leans against the passenger door as he lights a cigarette. He raises his brow at you but smugly smirks when Momo plants a tight grip on your shoulder.
"Don't even think about leaving.”
You knew better than to argue with her.
So you accept defeat, following her into the overly decorated ballroom, amazed by how sleek everything is. Your gaze is glued to the ground like it’s the most interesting thing you’ve seen.
But really, you’re just trying to avoid any gazes that come your way. The last thing you need is to accidentally piss off a yakuza member because you decided to look at them for longer than two seconds.
Momo, on the other hand, starts scanning the ballroom, flicking from person to person until she finds who it is she’s looking for.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
Your first guess was that maybe she was looking for Oliver. Or maybe a high-ranked yakuza that she could introduce you to, even if she knows you’re dreading that idea.
But you weren’t too far off with the second guess. Because when you finally lifted your head, your eyes following who Momo was gazing at, you saw him.
You recognise him but that’s only because of the rare times where Momo would show you photos of him from when he was a teenager.
Not because he happened to be the one saving you from last night's altercation.
But his name is one that you hear once in a blue moon which has your mind scrambling to remember what it is.
He’s the odd one out between him and a couple other guys with unloosened collars and ties close to being undone as they make jokes between one another.
But he’s the only one that isn’t laughing. If boredom was a person, it’d be him. Every joke or comment that's made results in him just either nodding or shrugging slightly.
Even from afar he can sense that someone is staring him down, causing him to turn his gaze and you swear you can see the way his eyes lit up.
He’s stuck in a trance but it doesn't last long when Momo beckons him to come over. He feigns cluelessness, looking both ways and mouths the word, “Me?”
Momo lets out an aggravated sigh and says, “Yes, you.”
The blonde excuses himself from the men before sauntering over to the two of you with his hands in his pockets.
And of course he’s taking his sweet time, secretly hoping someone at the party stops to talk to him if it means he can put off meeting you. He already met you once and he wasn’t trying to meet you again.
Not because he disliked you but more so because he knew that those urges he’s had for so long would grow more.
“Does he always walk this slow?” You question, letting out a small chuckle.
Momo rolls her eyes, holding herself back from marching over and just dragging him. “He’s being so weird.”
But the closer he gets, the more you notice just how handsome he is.
His beige suit is perfectly tailored to his body, his white shirt has a couple of buttons undone, revealing his chiseled chest and a gold chain that gleams in your eyes. A few blonde strands with pink peeking at the ends fall in his face, his hair mostly pushed back.
You’re having to kick yourself in the foot and quickly look away after realising that you’ve been staring at him for too long like a fool.
Little did you know, Ryusei was having a hard time just looking at you in that ivory dress. The way it hugs every curve on your body made him dangerously uncomfortable. Your skin looks so soft and subtle, glistening even in this semi dim lighting.
“Ryu, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Ryusei Shidou.” Momo says.
Ryusei. So that was his name.
Without looking like a complete weirdo, you’re quickly scanning his skin to see if you can see a tattoo inked on him. But his suit does a good job at concealing it, making you wonder what yakuza tattoo he has.
You flash him a gentle smile, extending your hand out for him to shake. “It's nice to finally meet you, Shidou.”
And it's nice to meet you again. Is what he genuinely wants to say. But he knows better than to reveal to you that this isn’t his first encounter with you.
But he can’t help but melt at the way you say his name so gently. Hime isn’t the soft spoken type but you on the other hand? He wouldn’t mind just listening to you talk all day.
In his eyes, you look and sound ethereal.
But his thoughts contradict his actions when he quickly grabs your hand and replies nonchalantly, “Nice to meet you too.”
He’s got such a firm grip on your hand, barely making eye contact with you which has you tilting your head at him.
He's mentally cursing at himself, feeling his cheeks getting warmer by the second as he turns his head to the side so his cheeks don’t expose him.
Momo, who could sense he was acting strange, tries to redirect the conversation. “Y/N, why don't you wait over there at that table?” She motions over to the closest one that’s free. “Ryu and I will grab some drinks for all of us.”
You weren’t fond of the idea of being left alone, even for a couple of minutes. But before you protest, Momo is already linking arms with Ryusei, practically dragging him over to the bar.
After ordering two glasses of champagne, she's quick to start nagging at him. “What the fuck is your problem?” She snaps at him, annoyance lacing in her voice as she begins to poke his chest.
Ryusei is unfazed by her constant poking, simply rolling his eyes but he’s failing to sound and act nonchalant. “I don’t know…”
“Are you not acting fucking weird right now?”
“No, it’s just…hot in here,” he’s looking everywhere but at her and when his eyes land on you again, that same blush continues to remain on his cheeks. “God, get off of me.”
The last thing he needs is for Momo to catch on that he’s getting this flustered all because of you; so he profusely shrugs his arm, causing her to unlink hers from his.
Like a reflex, she punches his bicep, a sharp exhale leaving her lips. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you but get your head out of your ass.”
She gives him one last stern look before grabbing two champagne glasses from the bartender and walks back over to you.
Ryusei knew he was acting weird. How could he not?
If his situation was different, if he wasn’t engaged to his snobby, materialistic fiancée that barely shows him any affection, he’d take his chances with getting to know you on a personal level.
Now he’s scanning around the room, searching for Hime until he can see her just by the front entrance of the ballroom like she’s about to exit.
Whether she’s leaving or not, he knows that Hime is too out of touch to suspect that he has eyes for anyone else but Momo.
So what’s stopping him from hanging out with you tonight?
He gestures for the bartender to come back over towards him, clicking his fingers to catch his attention. “Jin o san pai, kudasai.” (3 shots of Gin, please)
He needs to get it together, he needs to just be himself and talk to you without any distractions.
The bartender returns the three shots of Gin and he's quick to guzzle them all down his throat with no chaser. He has the bartender looking at him funny but quickly walks away since they know that they don’t get paid enough to start questioning a yakuza.
He’s keeping a watchful eye on you, even when he strolls away from the bar and heads to the coat check and hands the attendant his blazer, his chest now on full display.
As much as he wants to give you his undivided attention, it would be in his best interest to make connections on behalf of the Akuma no otoko.
So for the past hour, he spoke to other yakuza all while keeping his eye on you. Recruiting, drug trafficking, controlling local businesses: all that bullshit wasn’t sinking in his mind. Not when he slyly watches you gracefully float around the ballroom as strangers compliment you.
It's clear that a couple of drinks was enough for you to be in your comfort zone since Momo was no longer keeping you company. Instead, she’s leaning against Oliver’s shoulder as he takes the lead in a conversation with a couple of their guests.
Ryusei knew this was your third glass of champagne, nursing each drink for about 30 minutes. So he’s waiting for you to finish that glass so he has a reason to approach you.
Oh, how calculated.
The tipsiness is taking over as you take the last sip of your drink. You’re trying to get the last drop but an empty glass is an empty glass in the eyes of the waiter that stands right next to you.
Reluctantly, you hand it over to them with a sheepish smile and nod as a ‘thank you’. Surprisingly, the party is going more smoothly than you originally anticipated. But that's only due to the alcohol calming your nerves; another glass of champagne now calling your name.
“You enjoying the party?”
You turn around and it's like Ryusei came at the right time, holding two full champagne glasses, pushing one towards you. His voice is smoother and relaxed than it was before.
You grab your drink, slyly looking at his toned chest peeking through his shirt has you quickly averting your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you Shidou.”
He waves his hand reassuringly, tilting his champagne as he urges you to clink your glass with his. “You can call me Ryusei. It’s only fair since I'm calling you by your first name.”
“Okay, Ryusei.” You give him a warm smile, clinking the rim of your glass against his, the champagne beginning to fizz slightly. “I’m enjoying it. The drinks are pretty good and the zensai (hors d'oeuvres) are so fancy and unique. Never tasted anything like it.”
He’s registering your words but the way you look right now, to see you in a much better light than how you were last night was making him lose concentration.
However, he snaps right out of it, blinking a couple of times before releasing a chuckle. “That’s good. You’ve known Mo for a few years now, right?”
“Mhm, yeah I have,” you pull the drink away from your lips, swirling the remaining liquid and keeping your eyes focused on him. “I’m surprised we’re just now meeting even though we’ve both been in her life for so long.”
“I feel like I know you though…”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah…” he’s testing the waters, inching closer towards you. But you don't move away, you stay put, letting his half-lidded eyes scan down your curves. “I’ve heard a lot about you through Momo and I’ve seen you on Instagram… once… or twice… or a couple of times.”
Is he… insinuating he regularly visits your page?
Not that you mind, he’s the only guy that’s caught your eye tonight. He’s charming, good looking, so you’re questioning yourself why he didn’t follow you ages ago.
“Well, it seems like you’ve visited my page a couple times,” your lips twitch into a smirk, looking up at him through your curled lashes. “So, why didn’t you follow me?”
Maybe because being stuck in an arranged marriage makes him do weird things? Like jacking off to your photos when he wishes that he should’ve been with you and not Hime.
But of course he’s not going to tell you that, nor about his fiancée.
So he hides his thoughts with a smirk, slapping a hand on the back of his neck. “Didn’t want you to think I’m some creep.”
“Well, now that we’ve met,” you take a slow slip of your drink once again while locking eyes with him. “You can follow me.”
A grin grows on his face, knowing damn well that he should decline. But how could he ever say no to you when you look up at him so sweetly?
So he pulls his phone out of his suit pocket, taps on Instagram where he has no trouble finding your username from the nth times he’s searched it up when he needs an excuse to jerk off.
“Consider it done.”
You don’t question how quick it took for him to follow you. You're just assuming that maybe he quickly went on Momo’s page. Your eyes seem to follow his hand, returning the phone in his pocket but something sparks your curiosity.
You think that maybe it’s just a coincidence or maybe you’ve got it all wrong. But you're sorely mistaken when his sleeves glide up on their own, exposing that same inked oni mask that sits perfectly on his left forearm.
You don’t notice how long you’ve gone mute for. The longer you stare, the more you begin to remember in great detail of that same arm trying to bring you aid rather than harm.
“Wait… it was you?” You squint your eyes, taking a step back to focus on his tattoo which has him tilting his head. “You helped me out last night.”
“So you do remember,” he says it like he’s been waiting for this moment to happen, for you to realise that this isn’t his first encounter with you. “I’m glad you made it home safe.”
“Yeah, thanks to you and Sae. I don’t know what would've happened if you both weren’t there to help...” You trail off, the worst endless possibilities of what would’ve happened if they weren't there is eating you alive.
It’s like Ryusei could read you. Each thought corrupting your mind makes him invade your space once again despite the ongoing chatters and base of the music increasing. Everything around you fades out, allowing him to make his point clear.
“You don’t have to keep thinking about that,” he reassures, leaning forward like he’s not already towering over you. “Because we were there.”
Being this close to you when he’s engaged should be a crime. And it’s worse enough when your body rises in temperature, not just from the alcohol this time. There's no teasing drawing from his voice, its straight honesty and gentleness where his lips press into a straight line.
Who would’ve thought that you’d let a yakuza like him get you this flustered?
— ݁ᛪ༙
“The Mori’s have arrived.” Sendou discreetly relays this information to Oliver, voice low enough to be drowned out by the music filling the ballroom as he passes by him.
Oliver downs the last of his whiskey, setting the empty glass on the nearest table before straightening his jacket. His expression smooths into composure as he makes his way toward the entrance to greet his in-laws. Though deep down, a flicker of unease stirs beneath him.
Oliver being the leader of his clan puts him as the top dog, the man everyone answers to. However, when Momo’s father is present that title means almost nothing. He wouldn’t dare defy Kenzo Mori, the unsparing dragon of the East.
He’s been the head of the Ryū-Zoku for 35 years, ruling with an iron fist. He shows no mercy to anyone who fails to hold their end of the bargain and has shown time and time again that he is above the law.
His daughter and wife are the only people who get to see that vulnerable side of him. His wife, Kazumi Mori, being the first. She was once a regular citizen but when she fell in love with the head of the Ryū-zoku, she became a yakuza.
“Okaasan, Otousan (Mother in-law, Father in-law).” Oliver greets them as he approaches, close enough now to give a respectful bow.
Kazumi’s lips curve into a delicate smile. “Good evening, Aiku.”
Kenzo glances at Aiku, giving him a curt nod. A gesture that’s nothing more and nothing less.
“Good evening, It’s an honor to have you two here.” Oliver says, straightening to meet their gaze. “I hope you two appreciated the gifts I sent with the RSVP.”
“We did. Kenzo loved the blend of tea you chose.” Kazumi’s eyes soften with a closed mouth smile, giving her husband's arm a subtle squeeze, urging him to respond.
“The gifts were thoughtful,” Kenzo’s deep voice cuts through the small talk. “But it almost makes me think you were making up for something you did.” His gaze is sharp as a blade, now inching closer to Oliver. “Tell me, Aiku, did you do something you should be sorry for?”
Oliver furrows his brow, the corner of his lips twitching, not quite a smile. “What makes you think I did something, Otousan? Surely you don’t believe silly rumors that drift your way?”
Kazumi’s delicate fingers tighten on Kenzo’s arm again, firmer this time and her silent way of telling him to ease off. Kenzo backs up from Oliver slightly but not before his voice drops low enough for Oliver to hear. “I know the kind of man you are.”
Oliver can’t even come up with a rebuttal, not when you appear again from afar. Your crimson gown glows beneath the chandeliers, each step filled with grace and elegance.
Kenzo and Kazumi’s heads turn as soon as they see you in their peripheral vision. But despite your presence, it doesn’t stop Kenzo from giving Oliver his last parting words, low enough only for him to hear. “Remember, I’ve got eyes everywhere.”
Knowing that his father in law meant every word, a threat like that is one that had him scoffing under his breath.
Kenzo’s hardened features soften instantly. “Look at you, princess. Kireidesune (So beautiful).” He murmurs, his voice rare in its tenderness as both your parents move to embrace you.
Oliver watches in silence as your parents shower you in love and affection. You melt into their arms, laughter spilling from your lips. It’s genuine and unguarded. The way your face lights up for them, the kind of smile you gave your parents was nothing compared to the ones you showed him.
“You need to come home more often. We miss you.” As usual, your mother can’t help herself, her fingers already gliding to tuck the locks of your hair behind your ear.
Your father has the nerve to pout despite just glaring Oliver down not too long ago, like he had murder on his mind. “All of a sudden you become a wife and forget about the people who raised you…”
For every time your parents constantly quoted how much they missed you, that you rarely see them, you’d be pretty much wealthy. But duty calls when you need to uphold your status as a yakuza wife, concealing the pain and tears that come with it.
“Papa, I’ve been married for three years and you two saw me last week.” Laughter escapes from you, gently shooing your mother’s hands from your face.
“You only stayed for a few hours though.” He quips back.
And though that may be true, the position you’re in now, the decisions that were made to determine who would be your suitor was very much down to them.
Both your hands find their way on each of your parents shoulders, now looking them dead in their eyes. “You two arranged this marriage, remember?”
They both look at each other and play dumb, saying phrases such as, “Hmm, I wouldn’t do that” or “No, that wasn’t my idea.”
You laugh at how comical these two are.
“Just remember we’re always here. If anything is bothering you or if you just need a break. Me and your mother will always welcome you home.” Your father says as your mom nods her head in agreement.
For a moment, you pause. All the nights you spent alone came to the forefront of your mind. Is taking the pain Oliver inflicts on you worth saving him from your father? Why do you protect him in the first place… wouldn’t he learn his lesson if your Dad handled it?
Let’s face it, he would lose his life if your father handled it. And with that realization you continue the facade and respond, “Oliver and I are doing good, don't worry. If anything were to happen, I would tell you.”
Oliver Aiku x Reader x Bachira Meguru {Love Triangle} Series
Summary: Oliver loves making women fall for him. What happens when he meets someone that’s just as much of a player as him?
Art: all pictures found on Pintrest! Drawing of Aiku is from @/BO_TOIKE57 on Twitter.
Warning: Takes place in present day 2025, sexual tension, edging, argument, adult themes || MDNI
Find previous chapters here!
“Good morning, this is your captain speaking. We’re about 45 minutes from our destination. This is a good time to wake up and get a good stretch in. Expect the seat belt light to go off in about 30 minutes as we land.”
You close the book you were reading as you hear a majority of passengers slowly begin to move about the plane.
“We’re here already?” Bachira says mid-yawn.
“Yea, it’s a thirteen hour flight and you managed to sleep for nine of them.” Chigiri taunts while steeping his tea.
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the plane.” Bachira pouts as he snuggles back up with his travel size pillow. “And where’d you get tea? That would help me wake up.” He mumbles.
“The flight attendant brought it to me. Wake up and ask her if you want one.” Chigiri replies.
You giggle to yourself as you listen in on their conversation while preparing tea for those who just woke up. You place about 10 disposable cups on the service cart.
“Good morning, sis.” Zina says as she walks into the no passenger zone.
“Good morning, how’d you sleep?” You say placing tea bags in every cup.
“Pretty good. Shidou drooled on my uniform.” She points to the wet stain on her white blouse. “How’d you sleep? Better question, who’d you sleep with?”
You scoff as you pour the hot water into the cups. “No one….but I did catch up on some reading.”
Zina’s eyes squint in suspicion as she looks at you. You stop pouring and look back at her and say, “What?”
“Something happened….” She trails off.
Your eyes widen and you whisper, “I’ll tell you later.”
She nods her head, understanding you don’t want anyone to know. She grabs the cart from you and starts putting lids on the cups you poured. You two move freely through the plane handing hot tea to the passengers who want it. She watches everyone's body language to make sure Oliver didn’t tell anyone about the conversation you had with him in the middle of the night. He better not make you regret breaking your vow of silence by having a big mouth.
You walk up to him, his hair a mess and eyes heavy. He was sitting by himself.
“Ohayo (morning) .” Oliver says with a polite smile at you.
You gently nod your head and return the smile he gives you. He winks at you as he grabs the cup from your hand. You lightly scoff and move on to the next passenger.
Even if Oliver kept it lowkey, the innocent exchange between you and him did not go unnoticed. There Shidou and Bachira were, watching the semi-flirty exchange a few rows back.
“He lives up to the defender title. I’ll give him that.” Shidou whispers.
“When did he get on good terms with her?” Bachira says low enough that only Shidou hears him.
“Had to be in the middle of the night. Better hope they didn’t join the mile high club.” Shidou slyly says to provoke his teammate.
“Nope, this wasn’t Oliver’s doing. She’s behind this. She’s playing me.” He says as he continues to think. “She forgave him to force me to make a move.”
Shidou lets out a childish giggle and says, “Well, you better get on that.”
————————————
Once you and Zina finish your closing tasks, you both change into casual clothes and walk off the plane. You wore a graphic tank with baggy pants while Zina wore a tube top with baggy cargo pants.
“You served Oliver his tea. Something happened last night?” Zina asks.
“I was going to tell you but I didn't want those nosey ass football players to hear me.” You say earning a laugh from Zina. “He apologized and it wasn’t like the apology he gave me earlier. Do I believe him? No, absolutely not. Am I still trying to play him? Yes, that's why I forgave him.” You answer.
Zina smacks her teeth and nods her head in disappointment. “Bachira likes you though!” She whines.
“Then he needs to say that….” You trail off. “We’re not little kids anymore, he can tell me how he feels. I’m not gonna stop having my fun until he confesses to me. Fuck a slow burn.” You quip back.
Her head tilts to the side, wondering the sudden change in your demeanor.
“That was a bit passive aggressive…” Zina states. “Do you think being around Bachira again is bringing up some past feelings?”
You hesitate to answer knowing that Zina is correct. You avoid her gaze shifting your eyes down at the floor momentarily, as you continue to walk.
“Right before I moved away, Bachira hugged me and told me good luck. That was it. I don’t know why he can’t seem to tell me how he really feels.” You admit. “Which is why I think I’m getting ahead of myself. There’s no way he’d be into me like that. He just wants to win the game.” You second guess.
“Aht! I don’t want to hear that!” Zina says, slapping your arm. “I have a feeling that he’s only playing the game because he wants to make sure Oliver doesn’t get you first.”
You furrow your brows in confusion while glaring at your friend. “If he just confessed there would be no game…I’d just start dating him.”
“How does Bachira know that? You’re a completely different person than you were back then. I think he’s partaking in this game to make sure he stays relevant to you.” Zina claims. “And besides, if you all stopped playing the game, Shidou and I would lose our favorite show.” Zina says finally getting a laugh out of you.
“You’re right. We’ve already made it so far in this game. It’d be such a shame to let it go to waste.” You purr as determination fills you once again.
You two approach baggage claim, seeing Bachira and Shidou sitting and waiting. You smirk, taking pride in the fact that your plan worked. You didn’t even tell him to wait for you which means he must know about you and Oliver are speaking again.
“Look at that, sitting here waiting for me like a good boy.” You mumble low enough so only Zina hears.
“Annnddd she’s back.” Zina giggles.
The two men saunter over and grab the luggage from the both of you, on top of holding their own.
“Are you ready to go?” Shidou says.
“Yea,” Zina replies. She pulls you in a tight hug and whispers, “I want updates.”
As you release the hug and answer her with a “yes ma’am.”
After you all say your goodbyes, the couple go their separate way.
“When’s your next shift?” Bachira asks as you two begin your journey to the nearest train station.
“I’m taking a few days off. It’s been a while since I’ve stayed in Japan.” You answer.
“Ooo, you’re staying with me then!” He smiles at you.
You scoff and say, “You should’ve asked me earlier. I already booked a hotel.”
“Cancel it. If they don’t give you back the money, I’ll just send it to you myself.” He says as he swiftly grabs your hand. “It’s only right you stay with me. We’re overdue for a sleepover.”
You show little to no reaction to his gesture, staying as neutral as possible. You let out a simple, “Okay.”
Bachira ignores your mild reaction and replies, “Great!” His fingers swiftly slip into yours as you two make your way to the station.
During the walk, Bachira brings up various memories you two shared. He found a way to have his hands on you at all times. On the train, he’d keep one hand on your lower back while the other held on to the handle for stability. No words were said, just promiscuous glances. He was doing everything to crack that attitude.
Once you two arrive at his apartment building, you both walk up to the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. Bachira throws his arm around your shoulder as you two walk past the silver doors. He clicks the 10th floor button upon entering.
He turns your head towards him, his amber eyes staring at your lips. He swiftly closes the gap between you two as his lips press against yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you take in his aroma. His long skinny fingers play in your hair as your tongues brush past each other.
As soon as the elevator door slides open, he pulls away and says, “Fuck” following it with a laugh. He’s starting to regret this whole slow burn thing and you couldn’t continue being upset at him when he kisses you like that.
He pulls you and your carry on out of the elevator, rushing to his apartment door. You notice the haste in his step and think, ‘What’s the rush for? I thought he wanted a slow burn.’
You both step into his apartment, removing your shoes at the entryway. He signals you to follow him down the narrow hall into the living room.
Everything in his apartment perfectly represented him. He had various paintings and prints hung up on his wall, along with posters of his favorite teams/players at the moment. Trickets, little toys and figurines on display as well. You also noticed the loft that was right above his kitchen.
“This is exactly what I thought your apartment would look like. It’s super cute.” You say taking a seat on his couch.
“Thanks. I don’t spend much time here but I love bringing home souvenirs from my travels.” He says as he plops down next to you, immediately resting his hand on top of yours.
“Oh yeah? Where’s the ones you bought in Amsterdam?” You say ignoring his small gesture.
“In my bag. I’ll take ‘em out later.” He says locking eyes with you as he massages your hand.
“We can’t do it right now?” You say playing dumb.
“Nope.” He answers simply.
“Why not?” You say while tilting your head to the side.
He swiftly moves closer to you, his lips a couple of inches from your ear.
“I have something else in mind.” He says as he starts kissing down your neck.
You bite your lip trying to stay strong as he licks and sucks the sensitive skin on your neck. Your eyes roll back as he bites down, grabbing at your breasts on top of your shirt. You inch closer to him, eventually straddling him. You grind your hips back and forth on him as he leaves little kisses on your jaw and neck, grinding into you making sure you feel just how hard you make him.
“Woah, easy boy.” your voice was low and honeyed. “We should wash up and eat. We were just on a plane for thirteen hours.”
Bachira paused, looking up at you with pleading eyes and a furrowed brow. Is she really edging me right now? He knew you didn’t give a fuck about showering right now, you were playing with him. He places both hands on your waist and says, “The bath isn’t going anywhere. Stay here with me.”
You kiss his forehead and say, “I thought you liked a slow burn.”
“Foul play.” Bachira whines as he throws his head back.
Little did the striker know that this teasing would go on for the rest of the day. When you went to bathe, you left the door open cracked so that you could execute your plan seamlessly.
“Meguru, you didn’t give me a towel!”
But he did give you a towel, you left it in the living room on purpose. He grabs the towel that was left on the couch and walks it over to the vanity next to the wet room. He notices the door was cracked open and accidentally catches a glance of your soapy slick skin. He wanted to look away but every curve of your body had captivated him.
“Since you’re here, can you wash my back?” Your voice is honeyed and low.
You look over your shoulder, watching as he slides off his house slippers before opening the door completely. You bite your bottom lip out of excitement as you hear his steps get closer to you. You use your forearm to cover your breast as you slightly turn towards him.
You lock eyes with him as you hand him your loofah with your free hand. His cheeks were bright red as you stood backside to him. You arch your back slightly, waiting for him to put his hands on you.
“Megu-”
You hear the loofah fall to the floor as he pulls your back to his chest, not caring if his shorts get wet from the contact. He pushes your forearm from your chest and replaces your arm with his hands, gently massaging your breast.
“Fuck, you drive me insane.” He groans into your ear as you slowly grind against his growing hard on.
You let out a soft moan and say, “You're doing everything but scrubbing my back.”
Bachira’s hands slide down the sides of your body as he begs, “Please let me.”
“Let you what?” You tease him.
“Please let me make you cum.” He begs right in your ear.
You couldn’t hold back your smile. You turn around to face him, causing his hands to shift down to bare ass.
“I-I don’t want anything in return.” He pleads, knowing damn well he does.
Ooo, so close but still not quite what you wanted to hear from him. At least you’ve got him right where you want him, pent up and begging for it. He thinks this is about pride when it’s really about giving him a taste of his own medicine and him confessing how he feels about you outside of sex. You plant gentle kisses on his neck as he massages the plump of your butt.
“You’re so cute when you beg.” You purr right into his ear. “Let me finish washing up and maybe I'll consider.”
A small moan leaves Bachira’s lips as you deliver the devastating news to him.
“I’m not falling for it again.” Bachira grits through his teeth as he leaves the wet room.
Right… why did he think it would be different this time around? As much as this pains him, he can’t get enough of your sadistic side. If you keep this up he might cum the minute you actually decide to touch him.
“I need to calm down.” He mumbles to himself as he walks to his kitchen. Opens his freezer, pulls out an ice pack and places it on his forehead.
He plops down on the couch, throwing his head back and his legs separated. He tries to clear his head but all he can think about is how good you looked sprawled out on your back… or how wet you were for him… how quickly you squirted too.
“This isn’t working…” he groans, tossing the ice pack on the other side of the couch.
“What isn’t working?” you say sauntering out of the wetroom, fully clothed.
Well… clothed enough. You were wearing a fitted two piece lounge set. The shorts were practically underwear and the top was just a suggestion at this point. You weren’t letting up on Bachira anytime soon. His eyes graze over the tight fabric hugging your body.
You open the fridge, bending over to get a better look. Bachira was practically salivating seeing the outline of your most sensitive part through those shorts.
“Please, [y/n].” Bachira whines.
“Please what?” You say grabbing a bottle of water and closing the door shut. “Not sure what you’re getting at.”
All he needs to do is confess. If he does that you can cancel your date with Oliver and all this can be over. Until then, the game will resume and the suffering will continue.
“Yea of course you don’t. I’m going to wash up. Help yourself to anything here.” He says as he gets off the couch.
“Kay.” You reply, grabbing your phone off the coffee table.
1 notification from Tinder
Oliver: Where am I picking you up gorgeous?
Shit. you definitely told him to pick you up not knowing you’d be at Bachira’s place..
You: heyyy… change of plans, I’ll meet you there.
Oliver: I have no issue picking you up. I’d hate for you to take the train or walk alone.
You: That’s really sweet but Shidou and Zina said they would drop me off.
Without a second to spare, you switch apps to message Zina.
You: DIVA EMERGENCY!!
You: I just told Oliver that you and Shidou are dropping me off to the date tonight.
Z: FUCK SHIDOU HAS BEEN THE PHONE WITH OLIVER FOR THE LIKE THE PAST 3 MINUTES.
Z: HE FUCKING KNEW
Fuck.
You: DAMAGE CONTROL!
—-------
Zina’s feet slap against the wooden floors as she runs to Shidou. She taps his shoulder and signals him to mute the call.
“Did you tell Oliver that [y/n] isn’t with us?”
Shidou furrowed his brow and responded, “I said I didn't know if she was coming over. What’s she trying to get away with now?”
“She slipped up and stayed at Bachira’s place, forgetting that she told Oliver to pick her up for their date.”
Shidou couldn’t hold back his laughter. His cheeks turning pink from the amount of serotonin he’s getting from being a part of the drama.
“I’ll handle it.” He takes a deep breath and unmutes the phone. “Oli, I'm back. Zina just told me that [y/n] is gonna get ready here.”
“Oh dope, would you mind if I came to yours to hang out too?”Oliver asks.
Zina’s eyes widen as she covers her mouth. She shakes her head rapidly no. Shidou didn’t make a single noise but the smile he had grew twice the size.
“Why so persistent Oli? You don’t believe your team mate?” Shidou teases.
“You’ll do anything to cover for your girl, Shidou. I don’t believe her or her little friend. I have a feeling I know where she’s at right now.” Oliver laughs.
Zina takes a deep breath and starts texting you. Her nails tapping the glass at lightning speed to inform you of what just happened.
Z: Oliver knows something is up girl. You might need to make a choice tonight….
—-----------
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You whisper as you read the text from Zina.
You: wtf do you mean??? What happened??
Z: Oliver is stupid but he isn’t dumb… he knows you aren’t with us. You were being suspicious about him picking you up so he knows you aren’t at a hotel.
Z: He was all like I think I know where she is. He didn’t say where but by the tone of his voice, I wouldn’t be surprised if he pops up at Bachira’s place.
You: FUCK ZINA THIS IS SOOOO BAD.
Hearing footsteps on the floor, jolts your head from your phone screen.
“You okay?” Bachira says as he takes in your frazzled nature.
For the first time, you were scared. You didn’t know what your next move would be. You take a deep breath and try to ground yourself so you can face Bachira. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Bachira walks closer to you on the couch but before he sits down you manage to blurt out, “Bachira…. How do you feel about me?”
The temperature of your body rose as the question left your lips. You stared directly into his eyes, awaiting his answer. He could tell something had shifted in you.
“I like you, of course.” He says as he tilts his head to the side, confused where this was all coming from.
“Is that it?” You ask hoping he has more to say so this all can be over.
Bachira couldn’t wrap his head around your motive for asking him this. He didn’t know if you were playing with him or if you really wanted the truth.
“Where is this coming from?” Bachira asks honestly.
“It doesn't matter where… just answer the question…” You say trying to keep your emotions at bay.
“Honestly, it’s really hard to understand you. I don’t get why or how I got sucked into this game with you.” Bachira snaps.
“Oh really? That’s how you feel? Maybe we wouldn’t have had to play this stupid fucking game had you been honest in the first place.” You quip back.
“I’ve been honest with you the whole time.” He keeps his voice low making sure not to alarm the neighbors.
You push past him and grab your hoodie, purse and phone. You couldn’t continue hearing him be painfully oblivious to what you were getting at.
“You haven’t changed one bit, Meguru.” You say as tears swell in your eyes. You slide on your shoes that were by the front door.
“Stop, wait. Where are you going?” Meguru says.
He stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the first tear roll down your cheek. You’re not one to cry easily so this made him lower his defense.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back to get my stuff at some point.” You say wiping your tear as you make a swift exit.
You didn’t care if Bachira comes after you or not at this point. You were so fed up with him being so emotionally unavailable to you. He had one chance to fix his mistake from the past and he blew it. You take the stairs down to the ground floor so you can walk around and clear your mind. You didn’t get too far before you heard a husky voice ask,
“You alright?”
You look up to see Oliver in his sleek two door car. His expression was genuine but it had a bit of shock to it. He didn’t expect to see you crying.
“No, not really.” you say wiping your tears with your hoodie jacket.
Oliver gets out of the car and opens the passenger door for you. He taps the roof and says, “Well, I'm a really good listener and there’s a park nearby.”
You lightly smile at him and say, “Okay.” as you get into his car. He makes sure that your legs are in before he closes the door and walks back to the driver side.
N✨Sooooo sorry it took me many moons to finish this lmao there’s about two chapters left in the series and I promise it won’t take me 3 months to write the next chapter LOL hope you all enjoy!! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!
݁ᛪ༙ ft. Yakuza AU ➜ Yakuza husband! Oliver Aiku x Yakuza wife! Reader x Yakuza fiancé! Ryusei Shidou x Female! Reader
݁ᛪ༙ summary. In the Yakuza world, it’s easy to be corrupted. Bound by crime, power and forbidden desire, loving a yakuza comes at a cost. When choices intertwine, secrets spill… risks are made. So with a cheating husband, a faithful yakuza wife, an engaged fiancé and an innocent civilian—what consequences will they face?
݁ᛪ༙ co-written by. @nakidoriii
݁ᛪ༙ tags in this ch. 18+ (MDNI) smut, oral sex (f! receiving), dom! Oliver, cowgirl position, minor spanking, powerplay/power dynamics, manhandling, strangers to lovers, arranged marriage lore, emotional conflict, cat-calling, attempted assault, emotional distress, various characters featured
݁ᛪ༙ word count. 5.7k
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[y/n] is MOMO
The rising sun beams through the gap of the velvety curtains of the master bedroom, hitting your snoozing face. It exposes your features: no more streaming tears down your cheeks, no wet lashes and your eyes are no longer puffy.
You’re at peace but it doesn’t last long.
That sunlight making your face warm isn’t what makes you stir in your sleep.
It's the soft lips that graze against your fluttering walls that's being disturbed, occasionally flicking and licking up your sweet juices.
The feeling is foreign yet feels so good.
Fingers trail along your inner thighs, spreading them apart to continue abusing your clit, a slick tongue now prodding in your tight hole.
Your mind goes hazy but mixed with pleasure and when you manage to let out a soft groan, you earn yourself a raspy chuckle.
“Good morning, baby.”
Absolutely not.
Your eyes flutter open and it’s there you witness the cause of your sleep being interrupted. There in between your legs, is your cheating husband, his dark locks tousled, continuing to nibble your puffy folds with his slick tongue.
He smirks against your skin, the hold he has on you is one that makes you let out a choked gasp.
He’s clearly enjoying himself but it doesn’t last long.
Your hand finds his hair, curling into it before yanking just hard enough to make him wince and meet your eyes.
“When did you get home?”
“Oof. Easy, girl,” he says with a grin. “I got home around three.”
Of course, he did.
“How much did you spend on her?”
“Hundred thousand yen.” He answers, shrugging like it’s no big deal.
You say nothing. Not that you need to because what can you say?
Your so-called husband is back at it again with being unloyal, sleeping around and answers like there’s nothing wrong.
So you also try to act like there’s nothing wrong for the sake of this marriage.
You’ve always carried the Mori name with grace. Any expectation your adoptive parents placed on you, you exceeded with flying colors. They put you in karate, you became a black belt within 5 years. They wanted you to join the student council, you became the president.
The last thing you’d want is to disappoint your parents.
So you excuse your husband’s behavior for the sake of the clan. Even if rage is boiling up inside you. You do it all for the sake of the Ryū-zoku.
Oliver catches the silence, noticing the way your eyes soften so he reaches to grab your chin, tilting your gaze towards him.
“But I’ll spend two hundred thousand on you today,” his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “Get your nails done, a nice massage, lashes. Anything to make you happy.”
His hand returns back to your inner thighs, sliding up towards your core, clearly wanting to continue where he left off but not before waiting for an answer from you.
Your lips curve into a small smile, nodding. “I’d like that a lot.”
The smile you give him is enough to mask the pain behind your eyes, one that he’s unable to notice.
“I’ll spend the whole day with you, baby. My attention is all yours.”
“Did you speak to Ryu last night?” You ask, threading through his hair again, softer this time.
He pauses, for way too long.
“No, he was gone by the time I got back.”
You hum in response, like you believe him. But you don’t.
Still, your hand stays in his hair, not wanting to let go the same way you can’t let go of him despite his actions.
Because love for you, has always come with the cost of lying to yourself.
You still love him. Even if he breaks you emotionally.
“What do you want for breakfast?”
“I’m having it right now,” he murmurs, his head dipping lower, continuing back to where he left off. “So, let me finish.”
— ݁ᛪ༙
Grilled fish and eggs sizzle on two separate pans, the aroma filling the air in the kitchen as you carefully scoop miso soup into a serving bowl with a ladle. Fluffy sticky rice sits perfectly on the plate as it waits to be paired with the rest.
Your olive green halter-neck maxi dress flows naturally as you move from the stove to the kitchen counter. Not too far from you, Oliver sits at the dining table with a cup of brewed coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.
His choice of attire for the day is a light blue, long sleeved button-down shirt over a white t-shirt with light wash jeans. You’re doing the last final touches until you hear the front door creak open. You don’t even need to look up to know who it is.
“Good morning, Mori-sama.” Barou and Sendou say and bow in unison.
Oliver’s right hand men step into the kitchen, both dressed in their usual tailored black suits when they’re doing their daily duties for him.
Barou’s the first to step forward, his expression always a little unreadable, especially when he looks like he’s pissed off 24/7. But he’s respectful as always, liking him a lot more than Sendou.
Speaking of, he comes in right afterwards, looking you up and down with a grin. Sendou is just as respectful as Barou, he has to be since you’re literally the wife of the Hebi-Kai. But with him and Oliver being the closest, you can’t help but wonder sometimes if Sendou encourages him to sleep around with a bunch of women.
“Good morning!” You greet with a warm smile, as you wipe your hands on a towel. “Would you two like some breakfast? I made miso soup, rice, grilled fish and eggs.”
“Yes!” Sendou sings, not even letting Barou get a word in.
Barou scoffs under his breath before bowing his head towards you. “That would be amazing, thank you.”
They head on over to the dining table while you set the food in the middle of it, sliding into their seats before carefully preparing their own servings.
“Isn’t her cooking amazing?” Oliver says, taking a sip of his coffee. “You two are lucky to be offered food that she's prepared.”
And he’s lucky even to be receiving food himself. He ate you out just twenty minutes ago and now he’s getting an actual meal to consume.
He is the greed that they talk about in the bible.
“She’s the nicest yakuza wife, for sure.” Sendou says as he grabs his chopsticks.
“Agreed, always making sure we’re fed when we stop by.” Barou adds, giving you a nod of approval.
A chuckle leaves your lips, shaking your head as you head on over to the empty seat that’s next to Oliver. Without standing up, Oliver simply pulls out the seat for you and once you’re sat, he pushes it back to its original place.
Still a gentleman as always.
“Enough with the compliments, guys. Dig in.”
“Itadakimasu,” the three men say in sync before enjoying their meals.
You lift your chopsticks and pick at your grilled fish, Barou eats neatly in contrast to Sendou who's shoving rice in his mouth like he’s never eaten before. As for Oliver, one arm is resting behind your chair, lifting a piece of egg and rice that goes in his mouth.
“What’s on the agenda today, boss?” Barou asks after finishing a quarter of his meal.
“I’m spending the day with my lovely wife,” he responds, nudging your thigh beneath the table with a grin. “So I need you two to handle my work today. Stop by the casino, make sure everything is running smoothly with the cocktail party preparations. We have our own personal prep to get through.”
“Got it, boss. Anything else?” Sendou asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’ll call if something comes up. I may need a few loose ends to be tied. I’ll be in touch.”
It's not long until they all finish their meals. Both Barou and Sendou push their chairs back before turning to you and Oliver.
A faint smile lingers on Barou’s lips. “Thank you for the meal, Mori-sama.”
“Amazing as always,” Sendou adds with a wink.
They bow again before heading towards the front door, leaving you with the man who promised to treat you to a nice day out shopping.
— ݁ᛪ༙
[y/n] is LYRA
As promised, Oliver spent the whole day spoiling his wife. Momo was pampered in every way you could imagine; a fresh set of red stiletto nails, real mink lash extensions, a long backless crimson red dress for tomorrow’s event.
In their marriage, there’s no such thing of having to ask for something. She simply bats her pretty lashes at him and he’s quick to pull out his debit card.
Buying her silence with time and attention is something he’s very much good at.
The final stop was the spa where the staff have become familiar with the both of them and were always quick to greet them. Whatever the spa offered, Oliver made sure she got it.
With them being regular customers, it goes like this: she gets a full massage, Oliver waits in the private sauna in nothing but a towel draped around his hips and when she finally joins him in the private sauna.
He can never keep his hands to himself.
“You’re noisy today, huh, pretty girl? You’re gonna need to quiet down or we’re gonna get in trouble.” He grunts in her ear, hands behind his head as she sinks down on his cock.
“Shut up.” She retorts back despite the gasps and whimpers escaping her lips.
That earns her a harsh smack on her ass, one that echoes through the private sauna room along with her loud cry.
The fresh set of nails she just got done now digs into his beefy broad shoulders, her cunt swallowing him whole and fluttering nonstop.
“Aww, that's no way to talk to your husband, Momo,” his calloused hands make a home on her hips, his nails digging to the point that it’s for sure going to leave marks. “I treat you so well yet you’re giving me back talk? Gotta put you in your place like always, huh?”
And with that, he’s the one taking control, overpowering her, bouncing her up and down his veiny cock that bullies her cervix over and over.
I treat you so well.
But he knew deep down that he didn’t.
And he knew the price of her forgiveness was a steep one, and he was willing to pay it every time.
He wasn’t always like this though. When the 18 year old Oliver was told he had to be in an arranged marriage, he was not thrilled, that is until he met his bride-to-be.
A beautiful foreigner who is the adopted daughter to the head of the Ryū-zoku. Oliver was under the impression that Momo would fall for him easily considering that she was two years younger than him.
But he was sadly mistaken.
Momo at the time would've been lying if she said that she didn’t find him handsome but she was still more stubborn than any girl he had dated in the past.
She didn’t fold easily as the other girls he’s dated before and that's what made him so invested in getting the emotionally unavailable Momo to fall for him. There was something about her that made him drawn by her, captivated by her, curious about her.
His main focus was Momo and he never dared to look at another girl.
With patience and commitment, it all paid off in the end where by the time she turned 18, she had finally agreed to call Oliver her boyfriend… regardless of the arranged marriage.
Sooner or later, the deal needed to be sealed with Momo getting married off so Oliver wasted no time in proposing to her. He still remembers it like it was yesterday, how breathtaking she looked when she walked down the aisle.
For the first time in his life, he realised he had to earn someone. And he got it.
For the first four months, they entered the honeymoon stage. The one where everything seems perfect, where he never lied to her and where the thoughts of other women never crossed his mind.
But by the fifth month, things changed.
It normally does when being a Yakuza and power is involved.
But when that power was passed down through the death of his parents, the grief shook him to his core. As he processed the pain, he realized the liberation that came with his new title. This new sense of power and freedom turned him into the manipulator he is today.
He didn’t think twice about cheating because his arrogant self knew that Momo would never leave him. He is the leader of one of the biggest clans in Tokyo and the best suitor she could have got.
Even though Oliver has cheated for 2 out of the 7 years of their relationship, he loves Momo more than anything. Aside from her outgoing personality, big heart, insane beauty and brains, she is the only person alive who matches his freak in every way. Threesomes with women or men and exploring new kinks was very much their thing.
Oliver fails to realize that he can’t have his cake and eat it too. He can’t keep cheating on his wife and expect her to stick around. That’s why he gives her whatever she wants, and that’s why Momo won’t leave him.
“Let me fuck you again before we go in.” Oliver begs as he puts the car in park. “Your ass looks ridiculous in that sundress.”
His heterochromia eyes rake down her curves, making her chuckle slightly. “When we get home, baby. The cafe [y/n] manages, closes in 30 minutes.”
“I’ll try to survive until then.” He says sarcastically as he turns the ignition off.
It wasn’t like he got his dick wet last night from a prostitute and an hour ago at the spa from you.
Oliver gets out of his Trueno Blue 2025 Toyota GR86 heading over to the other side to open the door for Momo. He grabs her hand and helps her out of the car, slapping her ass in the process.
The little bell above the door chimes, making your head lift up instantly, pausing on the last table you were just wiping down.
“Momo! Oliver! I didn’t know you two were stopping by!”
You’re quick to place down the cloth and disinfectant spray on the table before Momo rushes over and hugs you tightly.
“We wanted to grab some daifuku and cheesecake before we headed home.” Momo says as she loosens the hug.
“Oh well, let me pack it up for you.” You move quickly behind the counter, carefully boxing up their favourites from the fridge. “You both look like you're glowing! What's the special occasion?”
“My family is throwing a cocktail party at the casino stadium tomorrow,” Oliver explains casually, resting his elbow on the counter, his other hand pulling out his wallet to pay. “Would you like to come, [Y/N]? You can bring a plus one.”
“That’s a great idea, Oli!!” Momo chimes in.
You hesitate for a moment. The idea of attending a party where everyone is dressed all lavish and smart made you feel out of your comfort zone. You’re nowhere near their tax bracket. You knew you didn’t have anything fancy to wear so maybe you could try to make something work from your wardrobe.
“Sure, I would’ve brought Mo as my plus one but she’s already going with you.” You joke lightly with less energy laced in your voice.
But your best friend could tell that you were hesitant about going. She knew that you didn’t have fancy gowns and expensive shoes at your disposal.
She looks up at Oliver, batting her long eyelashes at him while pouting her plump lips. He knew exactly what she was asking for. He pulls out an extra ¥7,000 out of his wallet as he paid for the desserts, handing it to you.
“The desserts are only ¥2,000.” You say, blinking as you count the money.
“Oh, we know,” Oliver says, brushing it off like it’s nothing.
“The extra is for your dress and shoes!” Momo sings. “So you have to take it.”
You knew better than to tell her no, especially with how she looks you dead in the eye. So you pocketed the extra cash and put the rest in the register.
They gather their things to leave, Momo beginning to grab the rest of the desserts off the counter and Oliver turning on his heel.
“You’re gonna look so hot!” She says, flashing a wink at you.
Oliver looks over his shoulder one last time, slipping his arm around Momo’s shoulders. “We’ll send a car for you tomorrow night around 8. Thanks for the desserts.”
“You’re welcome, I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”
You watch them go until that same bell above the door rings again and that’s where you continue to where you left off.
You start with the regular closing work; wiping the counters and tables, cleaning the bakery case, sweeping, and cleaning the coffee and espresso machine.
Once you make it to the back of the cafe, you notice a large box in the walk in. You open it to discover an assortment of desserts. You don’t remember the owners telling you about a spare package of desserts so you decide to pull out your phone from your back pocket.
You
Sorry for the late text.
There’s a box of desserts in the walk in?
Do those need to be put out?
Owner
I was supposed to text you to deliver those today. My apologies.
Do you think you can deliver them before you head home?
I’ll add an extra day to your PTO since this is a last minute request.
You glance over at the clock. It wasn’t too late but the last minute notice still made you let out an aggravated sigh.
You
Sure, send me the address and I’ll be on my way
— ݁ᛪ༙
The night air rests against your skin, arms wrapped around the box of desserts as you get close to the delivery address. You weren’t as annoyed as you were before since you knew that this would just be a quick drop off and then you’d be on your way back home.
And just like you predicted, you were correct. A elderly couple arrived at the door where you handed them the package, quickly bowing before turning to head back home.
But you start to doubt yourself, wondering if you’re making the right turn or not. The street is empty, too quiet which makes you stop in your tracks every so often. You’re telling yourself not to overthink it too much and you keep going forward.
But when you take another turn, leading you to another street, it’s just as eerie as the street you were on before.
It's then you finally realise that you might actually be lost.
Yet despite the street lights flickering nonstop and being unable to see people around, you have no choice but to move forward, hoping that you find your way back.
If you had known that you were now walking in Shika-soshiki Clan’s turf, you would’ve made the smart choice of turning back around.
Then maybe you would’ve been able to avoid the situation that you’re now heading into.
“Where're you off to in such a hurry, darling?” A voice can be heard suddenly. You don't turn around but you know that someone has appeared out of the shadows, followed by constant whistles and unwanted catcalling.
“Hey, sweetheart, come hang with us for a while.”
“You should come work for us. You’d make a killing.”
“We don’t bite.”
You ignore every word that they’re saying, thinking that they’ll eventually get the hint that you don't want to be bothered.
But you thought wrong.
You’re speed walking now, footsteps trailing after you and before you know it, a firm hand tugs your arm, instantly pulling you back.
A bunch of guys who had nothing better to do were now crowding your space. They’re grinning ear to ear and when you finally take note of the deer tattoo engraved on their arm, you realise that they’re part of a yakuza clan.
Realising that you’re fucked now.
You hug your bag tightly to your chest, attempting to stand your ground. “Look, I’m just trying to go home. Please move.”
But that was your second mistake (the first one obviously being stumbling on their turf). One guy grabs at your arm again, another wandering hand on your waist. But you’re quick to shove the closet one away but this only pisses the men off more, one of them snarling before shoving you to the ground.
Your palms scrape against the pavement, small scratches and marks now appearing on your skin. You can’t seem to stop your heart from beating so fast and the fear now paralysing you.
They’re getting closer now, circling around you whilst they laugh and bring their hands forward again. Your eye lids are sealed tight, a million thoughts running through your mind and one of them being why out of all people were you in a situation like this?
But just when you’re imagining the worst to come, you hear a sharp voice that seems to catch everyone off guard, including you.
“The fuck are you guys doing?”
Your head is still lowered, eyes shut since you didn’t dare to open them. But if you did look up, you would’ve seen another group of men all dressed in black, now marching over.
But you also would’ve seen Ryusei, who’s got his hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled up to his biceps, eyes narrowed as a vein pulses at his temple.
To the left of him is his right hand man, Sae, stoic as ever but deep down he’s just as pissed off as Shidou. Then to the right is Charles, who’s flashing his fanged teeth and muttering, “what a bunch of dumb asses…” under his breath.
A couple of his yakuza guys were now grabbing the Shika-soshiki men by their collars, yanking them away from you with force. They're each being pushed and pinned against the walls, being told how stupid they were for doing such a thing.
When you finally opened your eyes, you kept your gaze only on the pavement, not having any idea who these men were that practically saved you. But before another thought can cross your mind, you see footsteps now approaching you.
It's deliberately slow, like they’re taking in all of you, analysing your current form. And when they finally stop in front of you, their shadow casts over your figure.
That person being Ryusei.
His hand extends towards you, not to harm you, not to roughly drag you like the other guys but offering for you to reach out for him instead.
Still having no idea who it is that stands before you, you finally lift your head, your gaze stopping until you see his forearm. An oni mask inked on his muscular arm, confirming to you straight away that it’s clearly another yakuza but from another clan.
You don't know who to trust, you really just wanted to get home and not stay around any longer. So you do the unthinkable, scramble to your feet and take off, not looking anybody in the eye.
Ryusei’s eyes widen at your reaction, watching as you get away from the scene but he can’t the way his lips curl into a wolfish smirk. To finally be meeting the woman that he’s secretly had feelings for the last 2 years now just slipped away from him makes it even more frustrating for him.
Meanwhile, Charles continues to manhandle the fuck out of one of the Shika-Soshiki men as he’s giving them a threat rather than a warning. Sae approaches Ryusei from behind, his eyes flicking from you to him, making him raise his eyebrow. “You good?”
“Sae, take the SUV and make sure she gets home safe.” Ryusei demands right away, avoiding his question.
Sae wasn’t opposed to doing the request but he still found it odd for him to say that since it's not normally something they would do in situations like these. “You know her or something?”
“That’s Momo’s best friend.”
“Is that all she is?” Charles then chimes in, curiosity lacing in his voice. Meanwhile, the Shika clan guys are still being held back by the rest of Ryusei’s men. They weren’t being let go until Ryusei knew for sure that you had arrived home safely because who’s to say that they could do the same thing again?
“Yeah…” Ryusei answers short, not wanting to elaborate anymore.
Meanwhile, you told yourself to never slow down your steps. The fear still carries with you, your hands are shaking and you never dare to lift your head from the pavement as you desperately try to reach your destination.
Suddenly, the low rumble of a car engine can be heard, following alongside you.
You just can’t seem to catch a break.
A black SUV is to the side of you, the passenger window now sliding down.
“Hey, you need a ride?” Sae calls out to you, his teal orbs trying to get a glimpse of your face as he drives slowly.
The no eye contact and response is enough to tell him that you’re still adamant on not wanting to get inside the car.
“You know I’m one of the guys who just saved you,” he quickly rolls up his sleeve before placing one hand back on the steering wheel. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
You finally lift your head, your eyes flicking from his peach tousled hair, his unreadable expression but also his tattoo. And he was right, he really was one of the men that helped you.
“Look, thank you for saving me but I can get home by myself.” You lied, clutching your bag firmly to your chest.
Your bluffing certainly wasn’t going to work on him. “Since you know where you’re going, what street are you on?”
You’re quiet for way too long and that makes you finally come to your senses. You decide to take your chances and get inside, opening the passenger door before slamming it shut.
“You can set up the GPS to your place on your phone if that makes you more comfortable.”
And you do, lifting your hand to tap in your address and retreating it back to your lap. The silence fills the air where neither of you say a word to each other. Sae briefly looks at you from time to time and takes note of how your hand is still shaking from shock.
“There’s no need to get upset,” he says plainly, with sincereness laced in his voice. “We got there before anything could happen.”
You avert your gaze to look out the window. “I’m not upset… I’m just still processing it all.”
Silence makes an appearance once again which is something Sae didn’t mind but deep down he knew that it would be cruel of him to not put your mind at ease.
“So, you’re Mori-sama’s friend. How did you two meet?”
You snap your head towards him. “How do you know Momo?”
“We’re family friends. I've seen you on her Instagram.”
His expression never seems to change which had you narrowing your eyes at him. But you gave him a small nod anyway and proceeded to tell him.
“We became friends because she threw her drink at a guy for me.” You admit, trying to stifle your laughter.
His eyes widen at the small laugh you let out before slyly side-eyeing you. “Context, please?”
“So, we’re at the club and she saw this guy trying to take a picture up my skirt. I had no idea but she threw her drink at him, dragged him out of the club, made him delete every picture in his phone and then publicly humiliated him. All while she was drunk.”
His eyes flick back onto the road as he makes another turn. “What would she have done if she was sober?”
“Right?” You let out another laugh but Sae is trying his hardest not to feel warm inside. He can definitely tell you mean no harm so the fact that a group of men tried to harm you was beyond him.
He lets you continue since he’s more of a listener but can tell that you just talking about yourself is what helps distract you from the earlier altercation. “Then I helped her get home. Her now husband, Oliver, bought me a cab as a thank you for getting her home safely. It’s been two years and we haven't been apart since.”
“That’s sweet.” He replies, his gaze now softening from his usual stoic one.
And not before long, the car slows down in front of your apartment building, quickly unbuckling your seatbelt.
“Thank you, uhh…” you start awkwardly, only realising now that you never actually asked for his name nor did he tell you.
“Sae.”
“Right,” You sheepishly chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck while the other clutches onto the passenger door handle. “Thank you, Sae, for the ride and helping me before.”
He gives you a small nod, like he wasn’t expecting the appreciation since he was just doing his job. “No problem. Just be more careful next time when walking home at night.”
You slip out of the car, shutting the door behind you and you watch as the car pulls away from your apartment.
When you know that you can’t see his vehicle anymore, you waste no time in heading straight towards your front door. You’re scrambling in your bag for your keys, slipping it inside the keyhole once you retrieve it.
The moment you head inside your apartment, slamming the door shut, the first thing you do isn't head to bed and pretend what happened earlier never happened.
It’s to immediately call Momo.
“Hey girl!”
It didn’t take long for her to answer. After the first ring she picked up, casually laying in bed. As for Oliver, he’s nowhere to be seen. The last thing he told her before heading back out was that he needed to take care of some business.
Knowing Oliver, business could quite literally mean sneaking off to meet one of his personal prostitutes once again.
“Mo…” you start, hanging your bag on the rack before you head to your living room to sit on the sofa. “The craziest shit just happened.”
That has Momo now sitting up on her bed.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“I got lost after I delivered a package of desserts that the owner of the cafe asked me to do…” you pause, rubbing the back of your neck.
“I was walking down a street and these yakuza guys were catcalling, tried touching me but then these other guys came and stopped them before they could do anything worse to me. I think they were also yakuza but part of a different clan because one of them caught up with me and even dropped me home.”
When you finish explaining what happened, your phone instantly flashes with her trying to FaceTime you. You quirk your eyebrow but shrug your shoulders, raising your finger to accept the call.
Her face suddenly appears on the screen, her brows furrowed as her eyes scan all over your face and body. You give her a sheepish wave and she catches onto the grazes on the palm of your hands.
“Thank god you’re okay. Did you get the name of the guy who drove you home?”
“Oh! He said he knew you actually. His name is Sae.”
“Yeah, I know Sae,” Momo answers, resting her chin on her hand. “Nonchalant guy with pretty lashes. He’s a family friend. Where did you get attacked?”
For a moment, you really couldn’t remember the location you were in. That is until the memory of the address the owner of the cafe gave you to deliver the desserts.
“I’ll text you the address I went to. All I know is it was West Tokyo.” You say, tapping away on your phone as you send her the details.
Momo goes to the notification on her phone where she’s received the address that you went to and it’s not long until she realises that you were in Shika-Soshiki turf.
“Mmm, was there anyone else with Sae?”
The memory isn’t too vivid in your mind, but the glimpse of someone reaching out towards you, the Oni mask on the man’s forearm still replaying in your mind.
“There were a couple of other men that were there and a guy that offered to help me up. I remember his Oni mask tattoo but I didn’t see his face or anyone else’s because I ran away. That's when Sae followed me.”
Momo knew right away that it was Ryusei that saved you. Which checks out since Ryusei goes to West Tokyo to deliver drugs to the Shika-Soshiki. Since Hime’s clan focuses on prostitution, a lot of their clients will purchase drugs along with the women.
They own several nightclubs where those same drugs are sold to the clubgoers. Shidou’s family supplies them and Hime’s family distributes them.
Momo runs her hand through her locks, exhaling in relief but wonders what would’ve happened if Ryusei and his right hand men weren’t there to help you.
“Ah okay, I’ll be sure to thank Sae for helping you. You should call out of work tomorrow,” Momo says, redirecting the conversation. “You need to relax and be with your best friend after all that.”
“Yeah, I was already thinking of doing that first thing in the morning. I still need to figure out what I'm wearing for this party.” You admit, already dreading to try and find an appropriate dress.
“Well, that settles it then. I’ll come get you at like 9AM?”
“Why so early?”
“You think you’re going to this party without a fresh set? Try again. It’s on me so be ready by 9.”
Like you ever have a choice with Momo.
“Okay, Okay,” you giggle softly, leaning your head back on the sofa. “I'll be ready at 9.”
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݁ᛪ༙ ft. Yakuza AU ➜ Yakuza husband! Oliver Aiku x Yakuza Wife! Reader x Yakuza fiancé! Ryusei Shidou x Female! Reader
݁ᛪ༙ summary. In the Yakuza world, it’s easy to be corrupted. Bound by crime, power and forbidden desire, loving a yakuza comes at a cost. When choices intertwine, secrets spill… risks are made. So with a cheating husband, a faithful yakuza wife, an engaged fiancé and an innocent civilian—what consequences will they face?
݁ᛪ༙ co-written by. @nakidoriii
݁ᛪ༙ tags in this ch. +18 (MDNI) deceitfulness, established marriage, arranged marriage, a bit of yakuza clan lore/info from THE ROSTER, love triangle, angst, childhood friends, one-sided relationship, sexual frustration, emotional conflict, lewd/dirty thoughts, arguments
݁ᛪ༙ word count. 2.6k
݁ᛪ༙ a note from yours truly. Apologies for the delay 😭 been busy with one thing after another but I hope you all enjoy the beginning of this series 🫡
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[y/n] is Oliver’s Wife, MOMO
“How many nights have you cried yourself to sleep?”
A question like that is one that Ryusei doesn’t expect an answer to.
The blue hue from the TV flickers across your face, catching the faint trail of tears on your cheeks. Your lashes still damp at the tips.
This was the 6th night this month. That's what you told him earlier, a number that stuck with him like a broken record playing on repeat.
I just need some company. C’mon, we can put on something stupid on the TV.
But he knew what that really meant. You needed a witness to your sadness. A witness to see you fall apart without being judged. Someone who knew you before the wife title, before the luxury lifestyle and before you became Mrs.Aiku.
Charlie’s Angels continues playing on low volume, the drama still unfolding but despite his suggestion to put it on, he wasn’t paying attention to a thing that was going on. He thought putting it on would help change your mood but clearly the tears that still spill from your eyes whilst asleep speaks for itself.
“Momo?” A husky voice echoes from the front door as it slams shut. He sounds too casual for someone coming back home late and that’s what instantly pisses Ryusei off.
“In here.” Ryusei snaps, not even bothering to hide the irritation lacing in his voice.
A few seconds passed before Oliver finally strolled into the living room. The stench of another woman’s perfume is one that still lingers faintly on his clothes, his black shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, his hair slightly from where someone else’s hands had clearly been.
His head is tilted to the side, eyes going from Ryusei to his wife that's still sleeping peacefully and something in his expression falters.
“Thought she was with Lyra?” Oliver snaps.
“She was. Lyra had to leave and she didn’t want to spend another night alone, crying herself to sleep. 6 times this month,” a vein pulsed at his temple, fists now clenched tightly in his lap. “Oliver? The fuck is wrong with you?”
Oliver’s head shifts to your sleeping form, wrapped in a blanket that had fallen halfway off your shoulder, your cheeks glistening from the amount of crying you’ve done, your nose wrinkling each time a gentle yawn slips out your plump lips and the way your locks sit perfectly on your framed face.
Despite the high emotions, his wife truly is beautiful and that alone should be a reality check for Oliver to realise his wrong doings.
But as always, Oliver tries to bullshit his way out of his actions.
“Yeah, I know. I’m terrible. Clearly, the cheating is really getting to her.”
“Who’s trying to hear this crap? You need to start being a better husband to her.” Ryusei demands as his gaze is set on Oliver.
It’s times like these where Oliver just wished that Ryusei would shut the fuck up and go about his business. But the truth is that you are his business. Being childhood friends meant making sure that your happiness comes first.
“I hear you loud and clear, Ryu. I don’t want to piss off the heir to South Tokyo. That would be bad for business.” He sings as he slowly approaches you. He lifts his hand to run his calloused fingers through your locs before pulling the blankets off you, his resting wife.
“But you cheat on the heir to East Tokyo? You think just cause she’s married to you now doesn’t mean she can’t leave you?” Ryusei rises from the sofa, now stepping towards Oliver.
Oliver can see the way Ryusei grits his teeth so hard like they’re about to shatter, nostrils flared and his fuschia orbs darkening.
But Oliver isn’t fazed, not one bit.
“She’s not going anywhere, she loves me. I’m lucky to have such a forgiving wife.”
And there it was, the arrogance that he displays so shamelessly. The certainty that you would endure whatever pain he inflicted because that’s what you always did. At the end of the day, you will always be known as his obedient Yakuza wife that never speaks out of line.
Ryusei stares at him, and for a moment, Oliver sees something dangerous flicker behind his friend’s eyes. And it doesn't make it any better when he begins to crack his neck.
Tonight just wasn’t the night to start squaring up to Ryusei. Not when his wife is resting so peacefully.
And certainly not when he’s already used up all of his energy from fucking one of his personal prostitutes a couple hours ago.
“I will be good next week, okay?” Oliver says finally, hooking his hands under your thighs, steadily lifting you up bridal style. You didn’t wake up but your body tensed instinctively. “Let me get her to bed. She hates falling asleep on the couch.”
The harsh scoff that escapes from Ryusei’s lips says a lot, that he’s willing to hold back from beating the shit out of him.
“Don’t make her look stupid at the party,” he warns, eyes now narrowed. “Her father will have your head.”
“I won’t,” Oliver replied, adjusting you in his arms. “I’ll make it up to her. Make sure she’s in a good mood, especially in front of the other Yakuza.”
The silence now speaks louder than the words that spout from Oliver’s lips.
His back now faces Ryusei, not bothering to turn around and already cutting into his words before he can get the last word in.
“Thank you for being by her side but go home to your fiancée, Ryu.”
“Yeah, yeah, you ain’t gotta tell me twice, dipshit.” His veins decorate his hand as he drags it down his face.
The thought of his fiancée already being a bitch towards him for hanging out with you so late was playing in his mind. He even asked if she wanted to come with him so her mind could be at ease but she refused.
Nothing ever seems to please her even when he tries to do right by her.
Ryusei watches Oliver step further away from him, heading up the spiral staircase with you still in his arms. He can see the faint smirk that plays on his lips, the pad of his thumb gliding from her tear stained cheek to her bottom lip.
I’m lucky to have such a forgiving wife.
He sure is damn lucky. Because any other woman in your position would’ve stooped low, played at his own game and even cheated on him 6 times rather than cry.
But how long would it take until you finally snap?
When they’re both finally out of his sight, it’s then that Ryusei gathers his things, slinging his coat over his broad shoulder before heading towards the front door.
— ݁ᛪ༙
[y/n] is LYRA, Momo’s Best friend
One hand clamps on the steering wheel, the other shifts gear, eyes steady on the silent road as thoughts of his newly engaged fiancée roam in his mind.
And no, it’s not the affectionate kind.
It’s the ‘Ryusei, d’you know what fucking time it is?’ Kind of thoughts.
“A happy wife equals a happy life” but the irony is that they’re nowhere near married yet, and could he really say that he was happy when his fiancée still can’t seem to get along with his best friend?
He exhales through his nose and changes lanes, the car revving beneath him the further he goes.
Hime is beautiful, sure. Too elegant in that old-money kind of way. Her name alone commands status. Raised in the Shika-Soshiki, controlling West of Tokyo, her father and Ryusei’s father, head of the Akuma-Ikka, negotiated an arranged marriage between the both of them when they were sixteen.
By eighteen, the talk of what her clan wanted from his clan turned into a back and forth. Voices raised, curses thrown, indirect threats made all because her family always demanded a bigger cut of their inventory.
They would’ve been married by now if her family wasn’t greedy like her.
They only see him as a transaction yet the feeling is mutual. Hence why he still got on one knee that day, a glistening gold ring that’s cushioned in a small box, accepting with the same nonchalance he brings to every deal.
He can live with the spending, the tantrums that make Hime such a brat and the designer bags that cost more than some people’s rents. But what he can’t stand is the constant jealousy.
Especially when it comes to Momo.
Hime doesn’t get it. Of course she wouldn’t.
She doesn’t understand the ties that East Tokyo’s Ryuji-Gumi and South Tokyo’s Akuma-Ikka have with his clan focused on drug trafficking and Momo’s being loan sharking. And with Momo getting married to the head of the Hebi-Kai, who focused on gambling, their families have built an empire.
Their bond goes deeper than blood. Momo is not some emotional crutch, she’s his best friend and maybe the only person that doesn’t look at him as a threat.
Soon enough, he pulls into the apartment complex. The soft glow peaking through the blinds from the windows above lets him know that she’s awake.
Which also lets him know that this isn’t going to go down easily.
“Three in the morning, really?” Hime‘s voice cuts through the silence in the dim kitchen. She’s perched on the counter in one of his oversized, buttoned down shirts, bare legs crossed and half-full wine glass dangling lazily between her fingers.
He hates the look that she’s currently giving him. It's so bored yet so unimpressed.
Ryusei exhales, dragging a tired hand through his blonde strands. “Hime, don’t start. I left at eleven.”
“What were you doing with Mori until 3am, Ryusei?” She hops down from the counter, bare feet tapping softly against the wood as she makes her way towards him, the sleeve of the shirt off one shoulder. “I bet Oliver is wondering the same thing.”
“I told you why I went over there,” Ryusei says, reaching into the fridge for a water bottle. “You were right there when she called. Hell, I even asked if you wanted to come. So, when are you going to stop with these crazy ass allegations, huh?”
“When you stop spending every waking moment with that girl! I am your fiancée, Ryu, NOT HER!!” She yells, stepping towards him now, wine glass clutched tightly now.
Ryusei slams the fridge shut, now forgetting about the water bottle. “Mo is my best friend, Hime. When are you going to get that through your thick ass skull?”
“You know she’s going through a hard time right now. She would do the same for me and Oliver wouldn’t think anything of it.”
“Yeah because he’s an absent husband.” Hime mumbles under her breath, low enough so Ryusei couldn’t hear her.
But she softens, just slightly. Her bottom lip pouts out, making Ryusei raise his eyebrow, the sudden change in her behaviour is what surprises him. “I just… I don’t want you to turn into that. Into him, Ryu.”
He sighs and crosses the space between them. One hand finds her waist, the other tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Then let me prove to you I’m not,” he murmurs against her skin, voice dipping lower, slower. “We could stop fighting and put this energy into making each other feel good. How does that sound?”
No matter how bratty, greedy and stubborn Hime can be, he’s really just trying to make this relationship work
He needs a distraction.
A distraction from thinking this relationship is pointless.
But she plants a hand on his chest, shoving him back just enough. “Not in the mood.”
It’s taking everything within him to not crash out at this moment. She’s always in a damn mood so he should’ve known better than to think that she would want to get fucked out by him.
He steps back without a word, Hime watches him for a moment, eyes narrowed like she wants to keep fighting. Instead, she turns on her heel and disappears down the hallway, into their shared bedroom.
He lets out an aggravated sigh, making his way to slouch back on the sofa. He definitely has no intention of sleeping in the same bed with her tonight.
It’s nights like these where frustration is taking over his mind. He needs that release, to let go, to pleasure his needs.
When Ryusei settles into the sofa, his hand makes a home on his clothed crotch, slipping into his black sweatpants and further into his boxers. With his other free hand, he grabs his phone from his back pocket, quickly opening up Instagram and a recent photo of Momo with you at the club a few nights ago.
He knows it’s wrong and he knows that he shouldn’t be using a photo of you to jack off. But he can't help it when he shamelessly stares at your black micro skirt rising up, catching a glimpse of your thin lace panties sitting perfectly between your puffy folds. Your beige corset top hugs your chest nicely, clearly noticing the way your tits must’ve been jiggling when you moved about.
Ryusei shakes his head, trying to get rid of the intrusive thoughts. Just put on porn….she’s Mo’s friend.
Oh, this isn’t the first time he’s done this.
It's the same quote that he tells himself every other night, where one thing turns into another and he’s scrolling on her page, ogling at the countless photos as he begins fisting himself slowly. The pad of his thumb swipes at the slit of his mushroom tip, already oozing out pre-cum that profusely drips down his veiny shaft.
“Oh fuck.” He groans out, half lidded eyes trying to focus on the curves of your body.
His throat is dry, biting down his bottom lip to silence the soft curses and groans slipping his mouth. The more photos he sees of you, the faster he glides his hand up and down his throbbing cock. His hips roughly thrust in his fist, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his head falls back.
His eyelids flutter before shutting tight, imagining the ways in which you would be so obedient to sink down on his cock. Your tongue lolling out between your plump lips, your body and tits jolting up as he manhandles you, gropes you, claims you.
He just knows that you would be a good fuck, way better than Hime. Sure, he might’ve wanted to fuck Hime not too long ago, but the truth was that his mind was going to linger on you whilst balls deep inside his fiancée.
The more he heard about you, the more he could never stop thinking about you. He’s been meaning to meet you, to talk to you, craving to be with you…. to be inside of you instead of his snobby fiancée.
But every time Momo would try to arrange for the both of you to meet, Ryusei was quick to refuse. He knows himself better than anyone else and he knows that he would have no self control.
He would be no better than Oliver if he had met you.
He can feel himself coming close, the swollen tip twitching profusely as he strains his hand from pumping nonstop.
“Shit, that's it, right there…” he babbles on and on, not caring if Hime could hear how much he’s enjoying getting off to staring at photos of your pretty self.
It's not long before he lets out one last guttural grunt before spurts of white strings shoot from his bruised tip. The load he's just released is ongoing, making a mess on his stomach and even on some parts of the sofa.
He lets out slow, deep breaths, finally releasing his hand from his cock. He takes in the slick strings that now decorate his hand and he can only chuckle slightly.
“The sixth time I’ve been on your account this month… crazy.”
Do not waste your tears over fascists. "He was somebody's this, he was somebody's that". Michael Brown was someone's son, and so was Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Emmett Till. Sandra Bland was someone's daughter, and so was Breonna Taylor, while she slept. Sonya Massey, too, was someone's baby girl. Latasha Harlins was someone's baby. Martin Luther King Jr was somebody's son, husband and father, and yet the FBI killed him. Fred Hampton, Malcolm X, Patrice Lumumba. Hind Rajab, someone's baby. Khaled Nabhan, and his granddaughter, soul of his soul. Refaat Alareer. And on and on and on, every martyr, every Black and Palestinian person whose been told over and over again how cheap our blood is, how NOTHING our life is. I do not weep over the death of white supremacist, I fucking cheer. One less of them means a Black or brown child can live another day.
