No, but that fandom ask leaves room for a fanatic reader!!!
Imagine Daitou receiving a letter and its like the others from fans but this one is the most down bad ever! Like full on name, address, number and spicy pics of reader. Asking for their hand in marriage pretty pls
It would be extra funny if this happens while Daitou is in prison for whatever reason. Everyone is rightfully terrified of him - most are in for some petty crime; he's known for dumping bodies in the Tokyo Bay. Last time an inmate tried to start a fight with him, they ended up in the medical ward until their release.
"Hey, can I ask you something?"
The man's head whips around, drained of color. It's the first time his yakuza cellmate has spoken. Is he going to be threatened? Blackmailed to commit some dirty deed?
"Listen, man, if I offended you in any way..."
He says as he nearly crumbles down into a kneeling bow, hands clasped together in prayer. He can hear Daitou searching his pockets, and he can almost feel some improvised blade plunging into his soft, delicate throat.
A letter is discreetly pushed towards him.
"This can't be good," the yakuza says. "Don't get me wrong, this (Y/N) is cute, and all, but I could be a maniac! You can't just send your address and everything to a stranger, ya know?"
He nods to himself, arms folded somberly.
"I'm thinkin' of telling a guard about it. Talk some sense into the civilian. For their own safety, at least until I'm outta here. Should I?"
The younger man checks the paper: daring confessions of love, downright shameless proposals. Is this from an admirer? Who would even write to someone like Daitou, he wonders. He's the textbook example of criminal you should avoid at all costs. Then again, maybe some people are into that kind of dangerous guy.
"Is this all you have," the man asks, regaining some courage.
"No, this is the latest one," Daitou says, pointing to his mattress. "There's an entire stash of nude photos under my pillow, I don't think I can hide them much longer. Never expected to meet someone crazier than me."
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if your yan ocs received a fandom how would they react to their fans or even more crazy fangirls🤔🤔 i feel like half of your ocs would get mischaracterized so bad
-love by đź’Š anon
Ooh, you think? I wonder who would be mischaracterized and for what reasons. I never personally considered it, haha.
Given most of my characters are kind of awkward and reclusive, I suspect they'd be taken aback. Daitou would worry they've got the wrong guy. Then he'd suddenly fear that all these 'fans' gathered around are going to increase police suspicion. How is he supposed to beat people up for interrogation if the place is swarming with civilians? He can't even ask Boss for advice - when he called to describe his struggle, the old man choked on laughter and hung up. Yeah, sure, you've got suitors flocking after your ugly mug, he managed to breathe between cackles.
Now someone like Yuugiri, or Zzy...they'd love the attention. Though I can definitely see Zzy being escorted out of a venue while he yells "they asked for dick, now it's suddenly illegal to provide?!"
Hiii, I love love love all the yandere yakuza story parts you’ve made and Daito is the best fella there ever was. I was wondering if you maybe might like the idea of Daito helping y/n out with someone they accidentally kill? Like maybe y/n needed to do something in a different part of the city and somebody corners them somewhere-mugging, attempted assault, general threatening/proclamation of lust-which leads to them defending themselves. Either they accidentally kill the danger(knock head into brick wall/stone ground, trip them onto their own knife etc.) or it’s sort of on purpose, but either way they’ve never killed someone before and are freaking out a little/aren’t sure what to do. So they call their boyfriend and tell him they need help. I just think it’d be so adorable to see Daito being a bit proud of how y/n took care of the issue while also deeply wishing the guy was still alive so he could get some retribution too, and helping them dispose of the body and get the blood out of their clothes.
I think he’d go through a range of emotions at first. Panic, regret, anger. Why wasn’t he there to take care of you? You should never have to dirty your own hands, not when you have him! He keeps asking if you’re hurt in any way, or if you’re scared. He offers to dispose the evidence for you.
"I couldn't possibly, this is all my fault," you say, insisting that you lend a hand.
Then he suddenly remembers the small exchange he recently had with the old lady from the takoyaki stall: couples who hang out together stay together. Grandma handed him the takeaway box with a smile, commenting on his resemblance to her husband. We met at the bingo club, she said. They always played bingo together. When you share a hobby, or activity, you're much more likely to get along. She nodded confidently, arms crossed, and Daitou could only praise her wisdom.
Does this count as a shared hobby? He grins to himself, trying to hide his blush. He shouldn't make a habit out of it, of course, but when he puts it like that...it does feel like a bonding date. He finally has something in common with you.
That night, you nearly choke on your own spit when you see him outside of your apartment.
"What the hell are you doing," you shout in a hushed whisper.
He's wearing a nice suit and sheepishly holds a couple of flowers in one hand, dismembering toolbox in the other.
"Well, you know, since we're going to spend some time together..." he bats his eyelashes, nodding behind him. "I also brought a picnic blanket for afterwards."
You feel as if Kazuya is currently possessing your body, grabbing the yakuza by the collar.
"Are you serious," you scold, "we're getting rid of a damn body. This ain't a date!"
Uh oh. Perhaps he misunderstood the advice, then. Right, you must be more worried about the cops than finding a cozy smooching spot afterwards. Sure, it makes sense. He was also a tad nervous when he took his first life, though he wasn't even in high school yet, so it's been too long for him to remember any details.
Maybe he'll check some other couple activities later. He recalls seeing an ad for a crochet group in the area.
You weren't quite sure what to expect when your Yandere!Yakuza Boyfriend sat you down for a serious talk. Daitou fiddled with his prosthetic eye, lips pursed in contemplation, until he finally spoke up.
"I'm thinking of starting a Family."
You blinked.
"Well, what does that have to do with me?" you inquired. Maybe it was a misunderstanding.
"What do you mean? I can't do it without you, obviously," he responded, incredulous. You were his right hand, after all! His soulmate.
You gulped. Sure, you'd been dating for some time already, but you never pictured him to be a family man. What was he going to do, drop by to change diapers, then return to dismembering some poor soul from a rival gang? Would you move in together? How would it even work?
"Wait, I don't follow. This is all very sudden. You think I'm just going to magically pop some brats into existence for you?"
"Of course not, Boss said he'd give us a hand!"
You lean back, face drained. Good God, he involved his own old man? Who else was going to join in? Why not invite the entire branch? You rub your temples, considering the options. Daitou watches you with a smile. You're so cute when you worry, but this time he truly has it figured out. His phone buzzes, so he excuses himself for a second to read the message from his friend. It's Kazuya.
Hey, dumbass, I almost forgot: you better tell (Y/N) from the start you've been offered the Captain role for a new local gang. Don't do the Family talk with a civilian. Just wanted to make sure you don't mess up.
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Re-writing the intro for a male Reader! In which you've just joined the yakuza out of desperation, and Daitou takes you under his wing.
content: male reader, mild gore, Patreon request
[Yakuza Masterlist]
Of course it was a foolish, utterly reckless idea: a law-abiding foreigner like you, who’s never even gotten a parking ticket, joining the yakuza? Yet, you were desperate. No matter how many job applications you sent out, no company would call back. At that point, you weren’t even sure you could afford a plane ticket back home.
You knew you’d reached your limit when you stopped to gaze at a homeless tent, discreetly set up in one of the local parks, and wondered if you should ask the inhabitant where to buy a similar one. No, enough was enough. You had to do something. You were pondering your options over a pint of beer at the shabby, old bar close to your apartment, when someone’s hand rested on your shoulder.
“I know that face, brother. You’re looking for some cash?”
A short, solid man sat next to you, cigarette dangling from his mouth. Was he some sort of scammer? A cult member searching for more followers? It didn’t matter – he was right. You nodded greedily and stood up as soon as he told you to follow him.
It was only when you arrived at the “office” that you realized what was happening. The tattoos, the family pins attached to flashy suits…You’d just agreed to work for the yakuza. You could feel the blood draining from your face, but you swallowed dryly and signed your name in the designated spot. It was too late to back down. You stared at the hand retrieving the pen from you; thick, calloused, and with stumps where the last two fingers should be.
“That’s what happens when you don’t meet your quota, newbie,” the man explained with a grin, noticing your sheepish glance.
You were going to die there. Good God, what went through that empty head of yours? You couldn’t even tell a server when your order was wrong, let alone threaten someone into paying their loan. You wouldn’t be able to make a single cent, and you’d return empty-handed, and they’d beat the shit out of you until-
“What the fuck are you doing, dragging civilians into this?”
The voice was deep and jarring, causing you to immediately straighten your back. You turned to find the source, and your eyes landed upon a tall, muscular man. He seemed to be missing an eye, donning a discolored prosthetic inside the scarred socket. He walked over and stopped next to you, ripping the paper out of your hand.
“I ain’t forcin’ anyone,” the other man retorted, raising his hands defensively. “He signed himself. Ask him, won’t ya!”
“It’s true,” you stuttered in a panic, “I really need the money.”
The imposing man looked at you, then at the contract. He let out a sigh. Before you could continue your pleas, he dropped his heavy arm around your shoulders.
“Alright, but I’ll look after him.”
The other yakuza opened his mouth to protest, but he was swiftly interrupted.
“I wasn’t asking ya. I’m telling ya how it’s going to be.”
His grip on you tightened, and he pulled you away and into a neighboring room. You were facing a small sofa, on which another member sat, relaxed and indifferent.
“Check this out, Kazuya, I have my own little underling now!” the man holding you said with a bright smile, voice turning soft. Then, as if remembering something: “Ah, right, I’m Daitou.”
Daitou appeared to hold a lot of authority among the other thugs, and you didn’t struggle to see why: he was rather frightening in appearance, the kind of sight that would make women cross on the other side of the street and pick up their pace. You almost felt a little sorry for the fellow, especially when you compared him to his friend across the room; Kazuya – at least you deduced that to be his name – was slender, with refined features and golden locks carefully combed to frame his handsome face. You suspected he was only half Japanese. He eyed you mischievously, then turned his attention to Daitou.
“Well, that’s a first! You got yourself a foreign pet, eh?”
You raised your brow at their odd banter, yet you decided against speaking up. Perhaps it wasn’t the brightest idea to upset the only people who stood up for you. Despite their intimidating presence, you felt much safer around them. It didn’t seem like they were trying to take advantage of you, unlike the men outside the room, probably huffing in annoyance that they had just lost their meal ticket.
You also couldn’t help but notice the unexpectedly gentle way in which Daitou handled you. In truth, you almost felt insulted: you were both men, after all, and you felt like your dignity had been trampled, being forced into this pitiful helplessness.
The yakuza, however, saw things differently. You simply had the innocence of someone who’d never been tainted by crime. Your hands weren’t stained with blood, your heart wasn’t led by greed. He’d never stepped outside the underworld, and thus, you were his very first encounter with a proper civilian, someone uncorrupted. When he found you in the office, he was instantly overwhelmed by the desire to keep you that way. Yes, he couldn’t allow these rascals to strip you of your honest soul.
Daitou would make sure that hopeful glimmer in your eyes remained unchanged. If it was money you needed, he’d take care of the dirty part. The blond man observed his partner with a whistle.
Uh oh, he thought, the rookie is in trouble. I don’t envy him being Daitou’s new obsession.
Daitou has never had a partner before and is utterly clueless when it comes to these things, so he's initially very hesitant and unsure, maybe even a little clumsy. He'll frequently ask if he's doing the right thing, if he's holding you too tight, if he's pressing too hard.
The first time he makes you come is a literal spiritual awakening. He'll be replaying the moment again and again, dozing off during work - did he really do that by himself? - and already pray for a next time. He won't stop until he memorizes all the right buttons. The man is on a quest to make you feel great.
Daitou is very gentle and careful. He is, after all, much bigger than you, and lives in constant fear he might just break you if he goes overboard. If you're convincing enough, however, and encourage him with your sweet little whines, he will indulge his own neediness. He'll be holding your thighs in a death grip, face buried deep between your legs until you're a babbling, overstimulated mess. He won't stop until he's satisfied, ignoring your shaking limbs and drooling pleas. Sorry, was what too much, he'll ask innocently, looking up with glazed eyes and soaked lips; Like a pit bull that just devoured the best meal of his lifetime.
Kazuya is the most knowledgeable of the yakuza men. He was raised in a brothel and has (unwillingly) heard one too many complaints from his unorthodox caretakers, so he is determined to be the perfect provider for you. Don't worry, he's not like those selfish, careless men out there. Your pleasure is his first and foremost priority.
The blond is terribly competitive and jealous, always going one step further until you're a disheveled mess. It starts rather quaint, with him lightly teasing you and flirting in your ear, but towards the end his mind locks in for one goal only: erasing all doubt from your mind. He's the best for you. No one else will ever do it the way he does.
He is pathetically weak for praise, or any sign that he's doing a good job. Pulling his hair, squeezing him with your thighs, calling out his name, all of it gets him nearly delirious with joy. After the deed he'll take a moment to admire his masterpiece, observing your sprawled form with a wide grin.
Boss is the type to talk you through it. He can't help it; it's in his nature after years and years of leading this pack of criminal rascals. While he isn't necessarily a seasoned lover, he does have a good idea of what he's doing. More importantly, he'll use your reactions as a guidance until he gets it just right. Would you look at that, he'll remark with a cheeky grin, you're even more giddy when I do it like this.
He's quite shameless when it comes to his timing, often pushing you back on his own work desk in the middle of a busy day. Why not, he'll shrug, I have some time to spare. If you're unsure or hesitant, he'll play his two cards: either he'll use his mean voice, ordering you to be good and to behave, or he'll fake a dramatic pout. Won't you feed this poor, old man, he'll whine. Before you know it, you'll be holding back moans while he's propping you up with his one good hand.
It is to be noted that all three yakuza are exceptionally sturdy and would love the idea of you using them, no matter how rough you get. Go ahead and ride their faces, choke them with your thighs, dig your fingers into their scalp. They probably won't even register most of it, much too focused on what's in front of them. They're loud and greedy, lapping up every drop, grunting in excitement, kneading your flesh like you're about to slip out and they have to keep you in place. They simply can't get enough of you.
