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s4no · 17 hours

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(spoilers for fic under the cut)

right off the bat, i love love love all the background information you give about reader. the fact that you're able to give reader an intricate story while also maintaining inclusivity is v v impressive, and it makes the fic super immersive! the way you're able to build on it— how every detail you include feels not only relevant, but important— is actually insane /pos

little lamb... ofc he calls you little lamb 🥹 sick fuCK

can i just say that reader's stream of consciousness is so. i don't even know the word for it— cohesive? it has a really good flow and whenever you switch topics, it's done so smoothly?? like it doesn't disrupt the flow of the passage at all

wait this is making me so happy (': everything's coming together for reader!! she has a maternal figure and friends and a potential bf and... now i'm squinting bc this has to be the calm before the storm.

update: that was most def the calm before the storm bc man is reader fucked now. drunk with smudged lipstick? yeah lemme buckle up bc this is gonna be a bumpy ass ride

oh.. oh when he examines your— oh that's jkdhfjsdhk

i am so glad i wrote my thoughts down as i was reading this bc after finishing it i am incoherent,, this is some top tier writing!! not just the smut (though the smut was also *chefs kiss*) but the BUILD UP!! THE ANTICIPATION!! this is my new roman empire

BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone.

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it.

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity.

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him.

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally.

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful.

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance.

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks. Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way.

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true.

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read.

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time.

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice.

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties.

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm.

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane.

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.

It's relieving in the worst way.

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little.

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago.

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you.

You look at him.

“You’re horrible.”

“Tell me something new.”

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.”

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already.

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.”

“The contract. Are you serious about that?”

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.”

“And that’s me?”

“Seems like it,”

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol.

“...Fine.”

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to.

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy.

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower?

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all.

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.”

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid.

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle.

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears.

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery.

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria.

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least.

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression.

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face.

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.”

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is.

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness.

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it.

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?”

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions.

“How would I know?”

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?”

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.”

Sukuna barks a laugh.

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?”

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.”

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can.

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors.

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh.

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.”

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?”

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy.

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that.

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again.

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up.

“Thought of something, brat?”

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine.

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.”

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?”

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.”

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.”

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?”

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want?

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.”

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter.

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him.

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat.

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.”

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it.

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you.

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear.

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.”

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.”

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,”

“There what is?”

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?”

“What is it, oh.”

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical.

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire.

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice.

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation.

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.”

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers.

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.”

You don’t even think about asking what he means.

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.”

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?”

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static.

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body.

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins.

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.”

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you.

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago.

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge.

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.”

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.”

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs.

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity?

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you.

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes.

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name.

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades.

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.”

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly.

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.”

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.”

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.”

#ꨄ.recs #♡⃕ jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna.txt #⚠ warning: dark content #tw incest #tw age gap #tw noncon

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s4no · 1 day

Text

prized possession.

she's my collar. chapter three.

synopsis. hiroto refuses to let go of his search for revenge, leaving mikey no choice but to rescue and retrieve you to save your life. don't think it comes without a cost though, that being your purveyed secrecy. bonten has to cover their bases first and foremost after all.

characters. manjiro sano, haitani ran, haitani rindou, sanzu haruchiyo, kakucho hitto, takeomi akashi, kokonoi hajime, an oc.

contains. mentions of a toxic relationship. interrogation scene. violence. reader gets knocked out via chloroform cloth. drugs mention (sanzu).

disclaimer. the events depicted in this are works of fiction and are in no way, shape, or form glorifying or promoting them. this is not suitable for children. this work is for those 18 years of age and older.

“Akashi wasn’t joking about Hiroto’s tantrums.”

Two men walked down the slim corridor, their expensive dress shoes clattering soft against the wooden floor. The taller one, hair streaked hair slicked back neat and adorned in a navy suit fixed his tie, a mildly amused look on his face.

“You thought last night was the end of it? Men like that have no idea when to quit.”

The slightly shorter man snorted. His lavender and black mullet brushed against the tops of his shoulders, slightly tousled from the walk here. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his dark green suit, head thrown back just slightly as he chewed on his gum, a sleepy look on his face.

“Doesn’t matter to me. Just hope he’s prepared to lose more men. Don’t think there’ll be any more ‘Blood Angels’ if he keeps this up.”

The taller man smirked. “Think he’s smart enough to give a shit, Rin?”

Rindou mirrored the other man’s smirk. “Not at all, Ran.”

Rindou and Ran Haitani. These two were ruthless, born and bred killers. They’d been infamous since they were kids, and in their adult years their infamy only grew. The sight of their faces was almost always accompanied with certain death, some people even called them Shinigami, or the Grim Reaper. Simply put, these men were not ones you wanted to ever come across.

Yet here they were, knocking on your door. Anybody else would’ve told you to take your chances with Hiroto’s men. Your death would’ve been far more kind.

But there was the silver lining of Mikey’s name. How he figured you’d be in this situation once more, you didn’t know. He was a strange man, but someone you’d be grateful for right now. Had he not made his way into your life, these two gods of death wouldn’t be personally escorting you out of your infiltrated apartment building right now to take you off to safety.

“Stay between us, sweetheart. Things might get a little ugly.”

Your heart rammed against your chest as you nodded. Ran was at your front, Rindou protecting you from behind. They had guns drawn, cool metal glinting in the fluorescent lights of the stairwell. The complex was uncharacteristically loud; presumably, everyone was scared shitless. You didn’t blame them. It wasn’t every day a bunch of gang members came barging in your home looking to kill a stripper because of some tattoo her ex boyfriend gave her.

Maybe you should rethink your choice of men.

“Where the fuck is this troublesome bitch-”

Snap. Crack.

Two shots fired off from Ran’s gun.

Thump.

The voice was heard no more.

“Let’s go.”

Rindou’s arm around your waist guided you down the stairs. There was a body, a burly man slumped over face first onto the ground, blood pooling around his body. The back of his suit was stained red. There was an exit wound.

Maybe you should’ve gotten this tattoo removed.

There are more shouts around as you make your way down to the ground floor, and each one is cut off with a gunshot and a thump. The two men looked unfazed, bored even, like this was no challenge for them. Like this didn’t even affect them. How often did they do this to the point where killing so many people in one go didn’t even bother them? There was far too many things to process here. Like the fact that you were still in bedroom slippers and a T shirt, no underwear in sight underneath them. There was still a dull ache between your legs that you couldn’t even pay attention to because there was too many things happening at once.

“You good back there Rin?”

“Always, big bro.”

He just killed a man. How was he so nonchalant about this.

The scene in the lobby would’ve been comedic if it was in a movie. You three came bursting out of the fire escape door to a lobby full of patrons and Hiroto’s men. For a second you all just stood there looking at each other. There was at least twelve men in there mixed in between families and innocent employees. Your heart punched against your throat as you tried to swallow down your pulse in fear for the inevitable. God, in here was about to get messy.

“Well then,” Rindou whistled, clicking on his safety and tucking his pistol back into his pants. He reached behind him, hand tucked under his jacket, and pulled out a much larger machine gun- you didn’t even know what the hell the name of that thing was, let alone how he just had it tucked secure to his back in case of emergency. What the fuck was this?

“Shall we get started then?”

“Lets make this quick,” Ran sighed, already midway through replenishing his magazine. “Boss wants her back within the hour and I have a brunch date for ten.”

Brunch date?!

The sound of safety’s clicking off might as well have been a war horn. Suddenly you were pushed behind the two brothers as they boldly brandished their guns, and finally, then it began.

Gunshot.

The Haitani’s worked together like bread and butter. They were skillful on their own of course, but together they were something else entirely. They had their own strengths that complimented the other nicely and it showed forth best in situations when they were seemingly outnumbered. They worked like a machine, their fluidity melting into making them one big, powerful, dangerous entity. In a way you kind of admired it.

Hiroto’s men truly stood no chance. Where Ran took open shots and took out the ones closer to you two, Rindou picked off everyone further back who thought the cover of distance would benefit them. He was especially uncaring of the ones who took hostages and graced those men with shots to the head instead of the chest like everyone else. It was admirable in a sense…a very sick and twisted sense.

“That the last of them?”

“Yeah, looks so.”

Ran frowned at a man who was coughing up blood, struggling to aim his gun up at them. “Pathetic fuck.”

Blam.

“Now that’s the last of them.”

At this point you didn’t know if your heartbeat was still beating or you’d already passed on and your soul was stuck to see the aftermath. The stench of blood was ripe in your nose, pools of dark red staining the white tiled floors. The men put their guns away, Rindou’s arm returning around your waist promptly. Ran spared a curt nod to the receptionist, of whom herself looked like she was about to pass out and puke at the same time.

“Sorry about the mess. Someone’ll be here to help you all clean up shortly. Have a great day!”

…Yeah. Your life had to be a joke. This had to be a dream.

“You doing good back there, sweetheart?”

You blinked. When the hell did you get in this car? You looked down at yourself, still dressed in your sleep shirt. You didn’t even have shoes on. It was seven in the morning.

“…No?!”

Rindou barked out a laugh, Ran stepping on the gas with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, you will be. We’re almost there.”

Your hands found rest on your knees, acrylics digging into your kneecaps. “Almost where?”

Rindou responded, picking up a cloth before turning to you. “You’ll know when you get there, doll. Now inhale deep for me, alright?”

“Wha-”

The cloth was pushed over your nose and mouth before you could finish your question. On instinct your eyes widened, hands clawing at his thicker forearms. What the- what? You thought that Mikey had sent him- you thought you could trust Mikey to an extent. What the hell was this? Was he trying to kill you?

“Relax, sweetheart.” His words were soft, his other hand wrapping around the back of your head. “Just breathe in, it’s easier that way.”

He was talking like he was coaxing you to take a needle, and unfortunately for you, you had no choice but to comply. It was getting harder and harder to hold your breath and instinctively your mouth popped open, nose following soon after. The sweet scent of the substance filled your nose, and soon after, your eyes fell droopy.

“There you go, atta girl.”

That was the last thing you heard.

“She’s cute.”

“What, you gonna flirt with her afterwards or somethin’?”

“I’m just saying I see why Mikey’s got a little fixation. She’s cute, I’d like her too.”

You heard the voices before you could register you were waking up. There was a dull throb in your head, a headache likely brought on by the events of the morning. The last thing you remembered was being with the Haitani’s while escaping your metaphorical burning building. Then there was a cloth…and now you’re here.

“Hm..” You stirred, unintentionally drawing the attention of those around you, disembodied voices slowing to quiet at your consciousness. You shifted- you were sitting down? Your head rolled to the side on something hard and cold, your eyes fluttered open to meet bright fluorescent lights. “Huh…Where..where am I..”

You blinked your eyes open, squinting at the harsh light while your vision adjusted to the scene around you. You were in a room, a relatively empty room with grey walls and cold waxy floors, sat in an equally as cold metal chair- tied to said chair. Your brows dropped as you tried to lean forward, wriggling in disbelief but the ropes kept your arms and legs secured to the chair.

“What is- What’s going on?” You swallowed, trying to figure out what the hell you would’ve done to get you in this position. Did Hiroto’s men capture you after all? Wait, no no, these people mentioned Mikey earlier. They were with Mikey. Was Mikey working with Hiroto after all or did he have some other business with you that you didn’t even know about? It all trailed back to that stupid tattoo, didn’t it? What the hell was going on?

The sound of heels clicking against the floor pulled you out of your thoughts. You stilled when a shadow cast over you, heeled boots and skinny jeans now standing in front of you. The person leaned over you, placing their manicured hands on the swells of your thighs, forcing you to lean back into the chair and drag your gaze up to their eyes.

“Rise and shine sweetheart.” She smiled. “I hope the boys didn’t give you too much trouble.”

You blinked, your throat going dry, jaw running slack as you managed to stutter out your words. “Who are you?”

Her smile stretched into a cheeky grin, glossy lips pulled open to showcase a full set of pearly white teeth. “I’m Amara.”

Amara. You couldn’t say you knew the name at all, and with a face like hers you’d definitely remember. She was gorgeous. Tall and dark skinned, curvy with plush hips and a small chest, brown eyes dark as pools of cholocate and tightly coiled hair dyed dark blue. She wasn’t the kind of person you forgot very easily, so you assumed she was someone you’d never met before.

“Where am I?”

Amara mulled over the question, long lashes hitting against her brow bone as she looked up, pursing her lips. “Hm, well, you’re very far away from home. You’re at a hideout, but currently, you’re in an interrogation room.”

Interrogation room? Your face asked the question before you could stutter out the same thought, to which Amara cut you off with a smile. “Yes, an interrogation room. We’ve gotta see what’s so special about you, pretty girl. Gotta see what in that darling little head of yours you’re hiding!”

“Hiding?” You took in a shaky breath. Amara nodded, cocking her head to the side as she trailed a finger up your arm lazily.

“Mhm. See, Mikey’s gotta be real careful about who he lets into his space. Rats and moles are very common in his line of work and we just can’t have that here. So, you can think of me as an exterminator of sorts. My job is to sniff out a rat. And when I do, well..”

Her finger reached its way to your neck, index pressed up against your pulse. Slender digits rest around your neck like a collar, a warning of the implied.

“I exterminate them.”

You swallowed involuntarily. She smiled, running her thumb along your throat. “Right then, let’s get started shall we?”

In the room behind you two, behind a wall of dark one sided glass stood two men, one with a cigarette in his hand, the other with a glass of scotch. They both watched the interrogation with stern eyes trained on you, looking for the slightest indication of deceit that Amara may miraculously miss- not that she ever did any way. The man with the scotch spoke up first, swirling his drink around in his glass idly.

“Do you think she knows?”

The other man, taller and older, stretched out two fingers and pulled his cigarette from his mouth. Plumes of white cascaded between pink lips, the taste of nicotine bitter against his tongue.

“Doubt it. This is just precautionary but…she’s probably lost. The girl barely knew who she was dating.”

His colleague turned to him curiously, bringing his drink to his lips. “What makes you think that?”

He puffed his cigarette again, letting the smoke drape into the open air before licking his lips. His thumb grazed along his bottom lip as he held his chin, tongue clicking at the back of his throat.

“She wouldn’t have gotten that tattoo if she did.”

Amara wasn’t letting up on you, each question just as invasive as the last. The vulnerability made you uncomfortable, sinking back into your chair with a lump in your throat, tummy clenching in discomfort.

“What’s your relation to Hanma Shuji, hm? Mikey told me you said you two are exes, that must’ve been fun.”

If you knew he would’ve been this much trouble you would’ve never agreed to meet the man. “We aren’t exes, I never dated him. I was just someone he liked fucking a little more than everyone else.”

Amara picked up on the sharpness on your tone and her eyes sparkled in the light. “Sounds like there’s some bad blood there honey. Bad breakup?”

Your jaw clenched, emotions you shoved away starting to rise again. “We weren’t together-”

“That doesn’t sound like an answer to my question, sweetheart.”

“He left, okay?!” You huffed out, angry tears stinging the back of your eyes as you glared at Amara. “He just fucking left me. Changed his number, dipped outta the city, country, I don’t fucking know. He branded me with this stupid tattoo and then fucking left me. Does that answer your question, sweetheart?”

The men behind the glass chuckled, Amara herself allowing her face to fall into a smirk.

“She’s got a little fight in her, I’ll give her that.”

“Think it’ll last against Amara?”

“We’ll see.”

The dark skinned woman pushed off of you, strutting off to the table just a ways away from you. She turned and leaned against it, crossing her arms across her chest, nodding to herself for a second. She didn’t look the slightest bit phased by your confession. In fact, despite the smirk on her face, her eyes were hard and impossible to read. She bore into you like a case study and you had little choice but to reveal your everything to her. The room was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, little amusement on her face.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

God. “The night he gave me this tattoo.”

“Do you know why he gave you the tattoo?”

“I don’t know- I thought-”

“Speak clearly to me, sweetheart.”

Burning embarrassment scorched beneath your skin. Your eyes clamped together and you shook your head, trying best not to cry from the frustration of it all. “I thought he wanted to be romantic for once, I don’t know. He…was adamant on marking me as his, I thought he wanted to make things official or something.”

“So you got the tattoo because you thought he was asking you to be his girlfriend?”

“I was young and stupid, don’t talk to me like that.” You worked your jaw, eyes snapping to hers coldly. “I loved him and he took advantage of that.”

“Still, young and naive or not, it’s a little much to let a man brand you so boldly.” Amara cocked her head to the side. “Do you even know what that tattoo means?”

You shrugged. Kanji was something beyond you, and as beautiful as the tattoo was, you never thought much about what it meant. Was it that important? It wasn’t like you were keen on acknowledging its existence up until now, as far as you were concerned it was just some matching tattoo you had with your ex. It didn’t even bother you or prove a nuisance until now.

Amara took in your response and hummed, unfurling her arms to rest her palms against the edge of the table, nails clicking against the metal frame. “Do you know who Hanma Shuji is?”

That question was unexpected and it showed on your face. It was something you hadn’t asked yourself before, and now that you had to answer it, it sent you for a loop. You spent months of your life with Hanma, so in theory, you knew who he was. Correct? You knew he preferred gold jewelry to silver and liked white rum as opposed to dark alcohol. You knew he liked to gamble and he had a funny way of always getting whatever he wanted…but did you know him? You couldn’t speak on what he did for a living, you didn’t even know where he lived at the time, he always came to you. You couldn’t even say when his birthday was but you knew just what to do to make him cum in less than three minutes. Did you know him? Did you ever know him?

“…No.”

The frown on your face spoke before you did. Amara wondered if you knew you wore your emotions on your sleeve, she could figure you out from your eyes before you even spoke a word. She examined you for a second, fat tears rolling down your puffy cheeks that you angrily brushed away on your shoulder. You were shivering a bit, of which she expected- the Haitani’s pulled you out of your house before you could even get dressed for the day. Poor thing didn’t even had shoes on. She pushed off the table without another word, letting you sniffle to yourself while she exited the room. She rounded over to the room beside it, leaning in the doorway.

[1] “Está limpia, no tienes nada de qué preocuparte.”

The man with the scotch raised an eyebrow. Since when did Amara speak Spanish? He turned to the other man to see if they shared the same confusion, but to his shock, the other man seemed to understand.

He took another pull before snuffing it out on the astray nearby. “Think so?”

[2] “Ella ni siquiera sabe con quién estaba. No tiene nada que ver con esto.”

He hummed, finally turning towards her. There was a hint of a smile on his face, fondness that escaped his eyes just barely when his eyes fell on her. “Thank you, Amara.”

[3] “Me lo debes, Takeomi.” She returned the look, arms crossed against her chest. Her eyes dragged his figure, meeting a devilish look in his eyes when they met once more. He chuckled, fiddling with his cufflinks.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Takeomi turned around to his colleague, of whom looked between the two with a raise in his eyebrow but null of a question on his lips. It wasn’t his business and he wasn’t about to make it his business either. “Let’s go, Kakucho. Poor thing’s probably freezing in there.”

The door opened again and you swallowed, fully prepared for Amara to come back with more questions and pry further into your past, but instead you were greeted with a familiar face. Something about Akashi’s presence was the smallest bit reassuring, even if you’d only known him for half a second while he was shooting at the people trying to kill you.

“Sorry about all the hassle, darling. Preliminaries and such, just needed to make sure you were clean is all.”

Clean of what? You wanted to ask, but you were already emotionally spent. Your eyes traveled to the man beside him, unfamiliar but smiling somewhat kindly at you. He had a scar on his face as well, bit of a morbid thing to have in common with Akashi but nevertheless.

Sensing your curiosity, Akashi gestured to his counterpart. “This is Kakucho. We’re going to take you off to Mikey now, he’s waiting to see you.”

You nodded weakly, and the other man ducked behind you to untie the restraints on your hands and legs. When finished, they escorted you out and down the hall quietly. Your head was filled with many thoughts, the most prominent being what the hell did Mikey want with you. Sure he saved you the night before, but you didn’t expect much of it. You sure as hell didn’t expect to be ran out of your home, let alone interrogated for your involvement with someone you used to see. This was the cherry atop some very unsatisfactory ice cream, and to top it all off, you were barefoot and freezing and it wasn’t even nine a.m. yet.

They stopped in front of a large dark door, Akashi pushing it open and gesturing for you to follow after him inside. With no other choice you complied, and you were met with a large meeting room, complete with plush seats and carpeted floors. The scent of cigars and alcohol hung in the air, the occupants of the room all turning to stare at you. There were familiar faces; Ran and Rindou, of whom sent you an apologetic smile as if to say 'sorry for drugging you and pretty much kidnapping you!’ Kokonoi was there as well, happily counting crisp bills with expert thumbs and steely concentration that broke only to send you a smirk. There was a gruff looking man with a beard standing by the window, thick arms crossed against his chest while he stared you down. Sanzu was near, twirling around a fancy white and purple dagger, shooting you a wild grin- something you figured was his signature smile at this point. And leaning against the table turned Mikey, cropped white hair brushing against his ears as he craned around to see you. His dark eyes were unreadable but there was a ghost of a smile on his face, flat of his palm pressed against the cherry wood.

“Hello, angel. Glad to see you join us.”

Mikey’s interest in you was a mystery to all, including him. Aside from the obvious, the tattoo on your back that linked to someone he hadn’t seen or heard of in years, he found you…alluring, in a sense. There was a naivety to you that he seldom got to enjoy in his line of work. Something pure that reminded him of a life he never got to give. Whatever it was, you had your own speckled charm that came with your pretty cheeks and wide confused eyes, some glamour that came with the droop of a pout on your lips that left him curious about you. His eyes draped your figure, tongue clicking at the back of his throat as he addressed his executives while still never moving his gaze.

“You didn’t even allow her to change?”

Rindou shrugged, pushing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “No time. Hiroto’s men were already there and making a beeline for her.”

Hiroto. He was proving more of a pain in the ass than Mikey originally anticipated. No matter, nothing he couldn’t deal with later. He let his eyes wander away, gaze falling on Amara, of whom ducked in behind Kakucho and Akashi quietly.

“Could you find her something? And maybe something to eat too, I doubt she’s had time for breakfast before all of this.”

Amara nodded, and Mikey’s gaze returned to you. He gestured for you to sit, so you did. Hesitantly, but you curled yourself into one of the meeting chairs closest to you, just a few seats away from Mikey. He examined your posture. Your heartbeat was wild and you couldn’t hide it, the faint bounce of your chest beneath your shirt far too telling. Pebbly nipples stuck out from the fabric and he tried best not to think about it too much, opting to allow his gaze to follow the length of your neck and the depth of the features on your face. He licked his lips, turning fully to you, plopping down in his seat. His hand occupied itself with the winding bracelet across the opposites wrist, head tilting to the side just a bit.

“Are you okay?”

Your answer was delayed behind a blink and a swallow. “…No.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. There goes you and your charm, truthful without even realizing it. Yet another quality of yours he found unnaturally endearing.

“Understandable, I guess it has been a rough day for you. I’m sorry for having to put you through all this, I just needed to be sure is all.”

“Sure of what?” Your mouth ran before you realized it but your eyes held no regret or intent to take your words back. You were bold, bit of a brazen trait to exercise in a room filled with murderers. But, Mikey supposed, you deserved some explanation. In a way you reminded him of someone he used to know, someone just as blindly bold and terribly naive, pure hearted with clean intention. He smiled, pulling at his bracelet for a moment before gracing you with a reply.

“Perhaps you’ll know one day. I hope you never find out though…for your sake.”

The cryptic answer was enough to pin your lips shut but he knew you wouldn’t ask anything further. There was a tone of finality amidst the lit in his words. You had to room to prod forward, and if you tried, you wouldn’t get the answer you was looking for. Whatever business Mikey had was in no part yours too, so he preferred not run the risk of having you know. Especially with you being so truthful and vulnerable. You wore everything on your chest without even trying. While he found it cute, other people would take advantage of it. You’d been through enough of that already as it was, he wouldn’t set you up in a position for it to happen again.

“Nevermind that though, you have other things to worry about.”

Your brows furrowed immediately. “Other things?”

Mikey didn’t answer, instead turning around to his right hand. “Sanzu, I’m leaving her with you and Kokonoi.”

Sanzu nodded and turned his gaze to the blonde, of whom already had a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he pulled a rubber band from his wrist with his teeth, banding the thick stack of colorful cash in his hand. Sanzu’s eyes fell to you, who returned his almost predatory gaze with one of apprehension. He pouted playfully, pocketing his dagger in a flick.

Kokonoi spotted your gaze and tutted. “Aw c'mon sweetheart, don’t look at him like that. We’ll have fun!”

Sanzu dug around in his pockets until his hand wrapped around a container. He pulled out the orange container, using his thumb to flick open the cap blindly, dumping a few capsules into his hand. He threw them back dryly in an instant, looking at you with a catlike grin afterwards.

“Don’t worry.” Sanzu pocketed his pills and walked towards you. With one palm flat against the table and the other arm stretched across the top of his chair he dipped down near your ear with a chuckle.

“I’ll let you know before I bite you, I promise.”

[1] She’s clean, you’ve got nothing to worry about.

[2] She doesn’t even know who she was with. She’s got nothing to do with this.

[3] You owe me.

#♡⃕ tokyo revengers #manjiro sano.txt #oh this chapter was yummy #AMARA !!#now that's a bad bitch!#no but fr this is written so well #i am so curious to see what jiro actually wants with reader #*ariana grande voice*#bABY TELL ME WHAT'S YOUR MOTIVE

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