Work Text
Without a doubt, Ms. Akechi was the most terrifying woman Ryuji ever met. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t saying he didn’t respect the woman. She’d saved his life and livelihood, her and Miss Akira, and she could actually be rather funny when she was in a good mood. If he ignored the fact that the only things that put her in a good mood were Miss Akira and murder, that is… But still, Ryuji was certain that he and his mom would be dead without the help of Ms. Akechi. She’d found him after that asshole Kamoshida broke his leg and expelled him. Trapped in the hospital with bills his mom could barely pay off, Ryuji had thought his life was over until an apparition came for him. But that wasn’t Ms. Akechi; no, she came much later in the story. It had been Miss Akira. Or Kurusu, as he knew her back then. The bran-new transfer student—same year as him, who had a criminal record and was rumored to have nearly killed a man—visited him in the hospital. Ryuji had nearly shit himself. Kurusu offered him a deal; she said she’d make Kamoshida disappear in exchange for his loyalty when his leg was healed up, or he could reject her and not be involved in any future crimes she wanted him for. She’d never force him, she explained, and while she couldn’t guarantee their criminal exploits wouldn’t get them caught, the money was good and didn’t he want to get back at those shitty adults? Well, when she had put it like that, there was no way Ryuji could refuse. A few months later, Ryuji learned that he hadn’t been the only scorned teenager she recruited—there was Takamaki, who had attacked Kamoshida after he raped her friend Shiho; Nijima-san, who had gotten on the wrong side of a mafia boss in Shibuya; Kitagawa, who had been kicked out of his home for standing up against his abuser—and Ryuji knew he’d burn the world down for these people: his friends. So they’d formed their group. At first, they were just thieves, breaking into their enemies’ houses, stealing their shit, posting every piece of evidence online so, even if they couldn’t get them arrested, they’d still ruin their reputation. They met more people, stomped on by society. There was Morgana, who suffered amnesia yet somehow was a trained medic; Futaba, a hacker and basically Kurusu’s little sister; and Okumura, who would do anything to escape her abusive father and fiancé. And then they met Ms. Akechi, who threw their petty thievery onto a completely different level. She had been a detective. Or an assassin, it depended on who you asked. Ryuji didn’t know what happened, but one minute they were being targeted by Japan’s most successful assassin, the next Kurusu was introducing said assassin as their newest member. No one was pleased by this obviously, especially since Ms. Akechi was more… abrasive towards them than she was now. Or that she was dating the very woman they all had a crush on. But it’s been years since then. Ms. Akechi mellowed out and they all got over their crushes on Miss Akira. Ryuji eyed where Miss Akira was snuggled up Ms. Akechi, practically plastered to the woman’s side. Well, he was mostly over it. He was the one most often on bodyguard duty, with Yusuke and Makoto being the only other ones who were allowed to fill the roll. He’d gotten over their adorableness a long time ago. Makoto entered to the room. She’d been watching the cameras, keeping an eye out for trouble while Yusuke manned the door. “Ma’am? There’s a man here to see you.” Ms. Akechi hummed absently, running her fingers through Miss Akira’s loose hair. Today Miss Akira dressed for the club they were in—short black dress, blood red tights, and high heels with her hair down, though every member of their organization knew she’d never get to see the dance floor. Next to her, Ms. Akechi dressed in one of her signature suits, a grey one tonight. Ryuji is one of the few who knows she’d rather wear a skirt, but never at work. People don’t want to take a woman seriously, even if that woman controls half of Tokyo. Makoto continued. “It’s an old pest that we haven’t gotten rid of yet. Sugimura.” She sneered. Ryuji didn’t blame her. If someone had ever treated Ryuji’s lover the way Sugimura had treated Haru, he’d want to rip out his eyes too. Ms. Akechi’s lip twitched, the only sign of disgust. “Ugh. Tell Yusuke to take care of him then. No need to pollute my air with his trash.” Miss Akira pouted, kissing her lover on the neck. Miraculously, there wasn’t a bright red lip-mark left behind. “That’s no way to treat a guest, love.” She spoke with a lilting giggle. “It’s rude not to at least see what he wants. It could be… fun.” And everyone knew what kind of fun Ms. Akechi liked. “We at least need to see if he was followed before we kill him.” She looked at Makoto. “Was he?” And there was the criminal mastermind hiding behind the skin of a flirtatious bimbo. The best part of the night was when Miss Akira stopped pretending that Ms. Akechi was in charge. Miss Akira let her be the face of their organization, most because, again, Ms. Akechi was the most terrifying woman on earth, but all the original members knew who was really in charge. Makoto shook her head. “He wasn’t. The cameras caught him approaching the building on foot from the east, so he likely has a car stashed there.” “He might have brought a driver though…” Miss Akira mussed, ducking her head underneath Ms. Akechi’s chin. “Send a message to Yusuke to bring him up here, then to go search for the car. If we’re lucky, we’ll just have to send it off to one of our chop shops. That okay with you, babe?” Ms. Akechi, trained at an early age to deceive, lie, kill, steal and cheat with a grin, knew several ways to murder a person with just the objects on their person, blushed at the endearment. “You know I don’t care,” she murmured. “As long as Haru gets to see his death on tape, she’ll be happy.” “But I care about your happiness too, love.” Miss Akira draped herself across the assassin’s lap and pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw. “I don’t want you killing unless you have some sort of benefit.” “My benefit will be the look in Haru’s eyes when I tell her that her rapist is dead.” Ms. Akechi scowled, turning back to Makoto. “Tell Yusuke to get his ass in here.” Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out her gun and checked the clip before snapping it back in place. “Let’s get this over with.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sugimura didn’t look like a raping, manipulative bastard, but Akira knew better than to judge someone by their appearance. After all, she pretty-much married the living embodiment of the phrase “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” If looks equaled kindness, than her Goro should have been prime minister years ago. Instead, they were stuck ruling the country is a far more illegal way. As Sugimura sat in the chair opposite of their loveseat, Akira manipulated her face into something suitably submissive. Guys like him got off on their power over “weak little girls”—Kamoshida proved that—so Akira put on her best pout, hooded her eyes, and cowered against Goro’s side. She instantly noticed when it affected him, how he crossed his legs and smirked. At the same time, Ryuji straightened up and, glaring, took his place a few feet behind Sugimura, waiting for orders. Good boy. Goro hadn’t bothered to acknowledge Sugimura yet, still playing with Akira’s hair, so the pretentious man spoke. “I appreciate you taking time to meet with me, Mr. Akechi. I’m—” “I know who you are.” Goro’s voice was cold and bored, but still obviously belonging to a woman. Sugimura paled, realizing his blunder. “Spare me the pleasantries and get to the point, Sugimura—I am a very busy woman, and every moment you waste of my time increases the chances of me saying no to whatever inane request you ask of me.” Taken aback, he swallowed. Akira hid her smirk; he looked pissed. “Of course. A… colleague suggested that I inquire about your assistance in finding a missing person of mine.” Goro finally looked at him, tugging on one of Akira’s curls. She exaggerated a wince. “What a mundane reason. And here I thought you wanted me to assassinate someone for your failing political career.” Sugimura failed to hide a grimace. “But instead you’d rather have me find a mission person. How—” She sneered—“odd. Unless, of course, this missing person of yours could help your deteriorating career.” “That is… correct.” Sugimura looked more and more angry by the second, his eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “If I manage to find her, then I’ll look like a national hero. The public loves a hero. Obviously, this offer will be very lucrative for you as well.” “If you say so.” Pulling Akira’s hair tight, Goro slipped a gloved hand down the front of her dress, cupping a breast and squeezing. Akira squirmed and allowed it; her Goro was typically a sub at heart, so whenever she got riled up enough to try and dom her, Akira enjoyed it, even if it was in front of company. Besides, Sugimura looked like he was about to pop a boner then and there, which would affect Goro even more. Akira’s eyes slid over to Ryuji, who’s eyes were looking everywhere but her. Goro continued, “But if you really want me to pull Okumura Haru out of thin air, I expect fine compensation.” If her knowledge shocked him at all, Sugimura didn’t let it show on his face. “Your compensation will be fine indeed; half a million when you accept the job, half when you return the girl.” Akira felt Makoto’s burning glare behind her as Goro scoffed. “Only a million yen? I’ve made more than that robbing ATMs. You’ll have to offer more than that to get me to consider this.” Removing her hand from Akira’s bra, Goro grabbed her chin roughly, startling a wince out of her. “What do you think, baby? Would 5 million yen be enough to buy that dress you’ve had your eye on?” Eyes low, Akira nodded the best she could, biting her lip a little just to make her look more pathetic. It took every ounce of discipline in her not to laugh when Sugimura crossed his legs. Disgusting bastard. Smirking cruelly, Goro stuck her fingers in Akira’s mouth, forcing her to gag around the leather. Akira couldn’t suppress a blush and shiver of delight. “What’s that? Use your words, slut.” A whine escaped. “Is that not enough? Do you need 10 million? 15, maybe?” “F-Fifteen!?” Sugimura sputtered. Goro’s lip curled at the interruption. “That’s certainly too much! If I knew it would cost that much, I would have hired a team of private detectives!” Goro sneered, wiping her fingers on Akira’s dress. “And what would happen when she tells them how you abused and raped her?” His eyes widened as Goro’s face contorted, her mouth twisting into a snarl. Akira snapped her fingers and Ryuji sprang up from the wall, wrapping a chain around Sugimura’s neck to keep him in place. “How you’d smack her into the wall every time she was alone, how you’d accuse her of sleeping with every man you saw, how she lost a baby when you tossed her down the stairs!” Suddenly, Goro was on her feet, gun pointed at his head. “Any detective worth their badge would report you to the police once they heard what you’ve done, so why did you think you’d get a free pass with me!?” Smiling, Akira leaned back and let Goro terrify the man. Maybe she should play with herself as she watched, to rile Goro up even more? “Do you have no clue who I am, you miserable scum!? You dare walk in my home, thinking you won’t be punished for what you’ve done!?” No, Akira decided, Goro was worked up enough as it is. Sugimura tried to stand up for himself, but Goro shoved the gun barrel in his mouth, tilting it to make sure his head looked up at her and that the muzzle was away from Ryuji’s spread legs. “Trash like you don’t get to beg for their lives!” Then, Goro smiled, wide and cruel, like a feral wolf about to feast. “Of course, you don’t have much of that anymore. This is how your life ends.” BANG! Blood and brains splatter the back of the armchair, the bullet ripping through Sugimura’s head and into the floor behind him. Ryuji released the chain and the corpse slumped. Next thing Akira knew, Goro was on top of her, pushing her down into the cushions and spreading her legs. She rolled her eyes and looked to their bodyguards. “Ryuji, clean that mess up,” Akira said, wincing as Goro sunk her teeth into the meat of her shoulder. “And Makoto, go take a vacation with Haru. You both deserve it—”A moan escaped as Goro’s hands slipped under her dress. She smirked. Her Goro may be a sub at heart, but damn if Akira didn’t love her dominate side.