𝖘𝖊𝖚𝖓𝖏𝖎

SANO MANJIRO.

WE’D STILL BE FRIENDS, RIGHT?

SANZU HARUCHIYO.

WE’D STILL BE FRIENDS, RIGHT?

KAKUCHO HITTO.

soon.

HAITANI RAN.

OLD HABITS DIE HARD.

WE’D STILL BE FRIENDS, RIGHT?

HAITANI RINDOU.

soon.

KOKONOI HAJIME.

I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

BONTEN SERIES ⭒ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

#1 - PLATONIC LOVE (on-hold) | platonic love is a type of love that is neither sexual or romantic; something that the executives have been feeling towards you for the past few years - or so they would like to believe. [NOW AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD @cienfleurx, the plot and all the chapters are under revision to make the story better!]

#2 - SUPERCUT (on-hold in tumblr, available in wattpad) | in which [name] became a passing memory to them when a new girl suddenly showed up and began catching their attention one by one.  [NOW AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD @cienfleurx​]

"Boss."

The afternoon drags on, ordinary yet not.

Sanzu's gaze flickers toward the man standing in front of him, unshaken despite the intoxication clinging to him.

The man who seems to be in his early 30s, with coffee-colored hair and specs sitting precariously on the bridge of his nose is familiar.

Sanzu knows him, even in this state.

He's one of the underlings in your division. Sanzu has seen him accompany you a few times for your life-and-death expeditions.

Ran, who's curious as to why this man is currently in the interrogation room, looks up and questions him. He also recalls who this man is.

"You needed somethin'?"

Rindou's eyes narrow, lips pulling into a slight scowl. He's seen this guy before, too. The one who follows you like a damn monkey.

"I think it's obvious enough we're busy," Takeomi exhales a cloud of smoke, the tendrils hanging lazily in the air. His words are laced with irritation as his eyes drift toward the bloodied bodies sprawling across the floor. Bonten's traitors.

They struggle for air, the metallic tang of blood mixing with the sharp bite of nicotine. The intense environment, under the watchful eyes of the executives of Japan's number one worst criminal organization, left them feeling nauseous.

"Can't that shit wait?"

"This," the man says, handing over an envelope to Sanzu.

His mind is still hazy from the chemicals he inhaled earlier, and he doesn't care much for the underling's intentions. But the moment the envelope touches his hand, his attention snaps to the contents. The chemical fog lifts immediately. The paper inside is crisp, its contents unmistakable.

It's a contract and not just any contract.

His eyes flick over the signatory contract with a brand he knew very well.

"Madame [Name] wanted to give you this."

"What the hell's so important you had to interrupt us?" Kokonoi groans, exhaustion weighing his tone. The room is suffocating enough without these disruptions.

Ran, curious as to why you'd send your man to the rosette, rises from his seat, peering over Sanzu's shoulder. He scans the contract's contents, and his mouth falls slightly open in shock.

"It's a contract," Takeomi hums, his voice low and thoughtful. He hadn't expected this, especially not from you, not after everything you've been through with Sanzu. "Didn't think she'd do this considering who the hell it's for." his younger who's been nothing but a thorn in your side.

Sanzu lets out a half-laugh, his lips curling into a smirk, the scarred edges stretching as his emerald eyes widen in realization.

"Yeah, no shit." His grin widens, amusement pooling in his eyes. "[Name] just bought me a fucking factory, alright."

The room stills.

Kokonoi's jaw drops.

"You're kidding," he exclaims, though no one is paying him any attention anymore. "A whole Valentino factory." Kokonoi's eyes has never been widened like this before. "Under Sanzu's fucking name."

The men crowd around Sanzu, reading over the document like it's the most interesting thing they've seen all day.

"Why the hell would she buy. . ." Kokonoi mutters, only to fall silent as the implications sink in. "Oh."

Rindou scoffs, his tone dripping with disbelief. "That fucking white shirt," he sneers. All this for a damn shirt?

"She's bragging, I swear."

"Bragging or not, I'm taking this!" Sanzu shoots a glance toward the underling, his voice dripping with amusement and a touch of greed. "Where's your mistress?"

"Don't bother. She's out with Mikey."

Takeomi doesn't even glance at Sanzu when he speaks, his focus shifting back to the traitors. The moment his gaze lands on them, they shiver. Rightfully so. "More importantly, we still have business to handle. Wipe that shitty grin off your face and do your job. We've wasted enough time."

"Job? I've finished my job." Sanzu's unnerving smile widens, his swift movements revealing a concealed firearm, aiming it at the individuals who dare to intrude upon Bonten's sanctuary.

He mercilessly discharges the weapon, and one after another, bullets tear through the silence, through flesh, through the traitors who dared to defile them.

The air thickens with blood and gunpowder. Bodies hit the floor as the executives merely shake their heads toward the mad dog who blows away the lingering smoke from his gun.

"Should've done this from the beginning."

Takeomi instantly cussed, "Dumbass, we're not even done with them!"

"What a nutcase," Kokonoi muttered, slipping his hands inside the pockets of his pants.

"All that torture and we didn't get a single damn answer 'cause of your stupidity."

Sanzu waves a dismissive hand at their accusing glares. "Oh, shut up." His tone is light, unbothered. "I already have a hunch who the real traitors are. Just wanted to have some fun with these ones."

Takeomi cursed, feeling himself getting older with what this guy is saying. He really wasted hours of his life for nothing.

"I'm done," he hissed, dismissing himself.

Sanzu doesn't even acknowledge his departure. He's already moved on to something, or rather, someone who's far more interesting.

His gaze locks onto your trusted underling.

"You."

The grin is still there, still menacing as ever.

"Take me to that woman. I wanna talk to her."

The underling, utterly unfazed, simply adjusts his glasses.

The man who shows no fear stands still, adjusting his glasses. "I apologize, Boss, but I cannot do that. As Akashi-san mentions, [Name] is still on a mission. However, I can lead you to her lounge just outside her office if you'd like to wait for her."

Sanzu shrugged, still fixed on wanting to see you.

"Sure."

This paper really surprised him to the point the chemicals fogging up his brain seem to dissipate in an instant.

Rindou watches him, unimpressed.

"Dude, seriously? You could've bought that factory on your own."

He doesn't get it. A multi-million-dollar factory? So what? Every Bonten executive here has the means to pull that off. It's not like you're the only one swimming in money.

Sanzu barely spares him a glance as he tucks the contract under his arm, already making his way out of the torture room. "Oh, shut up. You're just jealous I got this from [Name]." His voice is flat, monotone, but there's an unmistakable tinge of smugness beneath it.

The others exchange looks before trailing after him like a pack of stray dogs.

Rindou's expression twists, clearly offended.

"The fuck would I be jealous?"

"I think he's still out of his mind." Ran snickers.

Before anyone can respond, another voice cuts in.

"What's happening here?"

Kakucho enters the scene, holding a cup of coffee.

Kokonoi explains what the fuss is all about, and as expected, Kakucho almost spits out his drink upon hearing, 'You having this extensive gift to Sanzu.'

A luxury fashion factory for Sanzu, of all people? The same bastard who goes out of his way to bring nothing but trouble to you? Seriously, what are you thinking, giving such a ridiculous contract to the person you absolutely despise?

And yet, despite the sheer ridiculousness of it all, Sanzu only grins, completely unfazed. If anything, he thrives off their disbelief.

"I think some of your pills got to her," Kokonoi grimaces, sinking into the plush couch.

They're in your lounge now, waiting, when an all-too-familiar presence makes her way inside—the same sweet, innocent look she always wears in Mikey's office plastered across her face.

Yui Ukishima.

Draped in a skimpy dress that barely qualifies as clothing, she strides in confidently, her heels clicking against the marble floor before settling herself right onto Ran's lap. Arms loop around his neck, her body pressing against his, but Ran barely reacts.

Instead, he casts a glance at the others—expression blank, tired, a silent message clear as day 'Someone deal with this, because I'm not fucking doing it.'

Hours of being stuck in that suffocating interrogation room drained the energy right out of him. The last thing he wants right now is to entertain some girl when all his interest is fixated on you and your reason why you needed to buy Sanzu a whole-ass factory.

Sanzu, of course, seizes the opportunity for chaos. A smirk tugs at his scarred lips as he drawls, "Rindou will tend to your needs, angel."

Rindou, who had been absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, immediately snaps to attention, brows furrowing. "The fuck I will."

"Kakucho can do it," he fires back, arms crossing over his chest.

"I-uh, have some matters to deal with [Name]. Koko?"

"We just fucked you the other day. You're that horny?"

Sanzu snorts, while Ran stifles a laugh beneath his breath. Yui, now pouting, shifts on Ran's lap, clearly unsatisfied with their reactions.

Meanwhile, you and Mikey alongside Mochi who chooses to stay inside his car, are at this shop after being on a mission together for the whole morning. It's one of Japan's busiest designer outlets, one that you and the others frequent often.

Despite your cold demeanor, the staff moves around you with ease, offering assistance without hesitation. It's you they gravitate towards, unfazed by your sharp gaze, unlike the man standing beside you.

Mikey doesn't need to say a word to make his presence suffocating. The way his blank eyes drift over the store is enough to keep them from getting too comfortable.

Maybe that's why they focus on you instead. Maybe it's because you're a woman, or maybe they sense that beneath the exterior, you have something resembling a heart.

One of the clerks disappears into the back to retrieve your size. You watch them go before shifting your gaze toward Mikey.

He's already seated, eating his favorite snack, completely uninterested in anything beyond the store window, where crowds of people move about their day, oblivious to the monster in their midst.

"Manjiro."

You say his name, but he doesn't acknowledge you, doesn't even glance in your direction. Just keeps chewing, staring, existing.

You exhale, dragging your fingers along the racks of dresses before pulling one out. Then another. Then another.

"Should we buy the woman some clothes?" you ask, inspecting a fabric between your fingers. "Seeing as she's staying with us longer than I thought, it's only right, don't you think?"

Mikey finally responds, voice flat, devoid of any real interest. "I dunno. Should we?"

You frown. "Unless you wanna see her freeze to death in this weather."

"That'd be nice."

You pause, staring at him. Huh. Just earlier, he was obsessed with fucking her, and now he's acting like she's disposable.

"You're crazy," you mutter, unbothered.

Not many people can speak to Mikey like this and live to see another day. But your relationship with him isn't special, nor is it entirely normal.

You can call him by his birth name. Call him stupid. Curse at him randomly. Even flip him off when you feel like it. And he doesn't kill you for it.

He just lets you.

Most of the time, at least.

On his worst days, when the weight of the organization drags him down, he'll shoot you a glare that warns you to tread carefully. A silent 'not now'. A reminder that, beneath whatever strange tolerance he has for you, he's still the most dangerous man in Japan.

"Add this to the bill."

You hand over the apparel to the store clerk, who takes them with careful hands.

"[Name]."

You shot Mikey a look, "What?"

He threw something in your direction. A black card.

"Pay for your stuff with that too," he mutters, standing up. "I'm getting in the car with Mochizuki. Make it quick."

It's less of a suggestion and more of an order and as soon as the employees hear it, they move.

Fast.

No one dares to waste a second, the fear of messing up with Bonten's leader, making them move hastily without so much thought.

You watch with mild amusement. "He can be sweet at times," you muse, more to yourself than anyone else.

Within moments, the cashier is punching in tags at lightning speed, hands trembling slightly as you slide Mikey's card across the counter. You don't mind, just waiting for them to bag your items and assist you with the shopping bags until you climb back inside your McLaren.

"Welcome back, boss."

Employees bow their heads in perfect sync, voices hushed, movements stiff.

"Sir. Madame."

You acknowledge them with a brief nod, though Mikey and Mochi ignore them entirely. They've long stopped noticing these formalities.

It's already past two in the afternoon, and hunger creeps into your stomach. You turn to Mochi, about to ask if he wants to grab something to eat when a subordinate approaches, eyes flicking between you and Mikey with unease.

"Madame, there's a situation in the lounge outside your office."

Great. Of course, there is.

Before you can ask for details, Mochi speaks up.

"Oi, [Name]. You wanna grab burgers?"

You huff a quiet laugh. "I was just about to ask you that."

Then you pause, considering the pests waiting upstairs.

"I think I need to check on something first. Mind waiting?"

Not that you really expect him to.

Mochi waves you off without hesitation. "Nah, I'm hungry as fuck."

Figures.

Rolling your eyes, you shift focus back to the issue at hand because, seriously, why the fuck are those guys lingering in your lounge?

"We just fucked you the other day. You're that horny?"

The air shifts the moment you step into the lounge.

A thick, weighted silence follows, disrupted only when Kakucho notices you first.

"[Name]."

His voice is steady, but there's an underlying relief in his tone as if your arrival means order will be restored.

You barely acknowledge him, though as your eyes dart to the girl in the room.

Yui Ukishima.

Still perched on Ran's lap, looking seconds away from bursting into tears. The moment she registers your presence, she jerks to her feet, smoothing down the short hem of her dress with trembling fingers.

"N-[Name]-san," she stammers.

You glance at her briefly before shifting your gaze to Kokonoi, who you had just overheard saying some real foul shit.

He sighs exasperatedly at your look.

You hadn't pegged Koko as the type to openly disrespect her of all people, considering he's fucked her too just like the rest of these men.

"What's this behavior?" You gesture lazily toward Himari, voice laced with mock curiosity. "Isn't she supposed to be your precious little princess?"

Your tone makes them pause. Because they know you aren't defending her. You don't care about Yui Ukishima. You're just calling them out on their bullshit.

With a flick of your wrist, you signal for one of your subordinates to hand over the shopping bags. Himari's eyes widen at the sight of all the luxury brands staring back at her.

"That's all yours," you tell her.

She hesitates, then nods quickly, taking it as her cue to get the hell out of there.

"T-thank you, [Name]-san."

You don't respond.

Whatever. I'm still using you as a threat against all these guys. Speaking of.

Your attention is already shifting back to the men, a skeptical look settling on your face.

Rindou scoffs.

"See? Ain't I right? She's bragging."

His glare is sharp, directed at the bags you just handed over.

You raise a brow, irritated.

"The fuck are you on about?"

"Seriously? All that YSL for that woman?" Koko echoes, disbelief creeping into his voice.

Like the idea of you spending money on Yui, their fucktoy, was offensive to him.

You tilt your head slightly, then sigh.

"I really don't wanna borrow clothes from someone else anymore."

Your gaze flickers toward the grinning bastard sprawled across the sofa.

Sanzu.

He's giving you that annoying Cheshire grin as he waves around those damn papers—the ones you really don't feel like dealing with right now.

Right. The factory.

"And besides, that wasn't my money. Got ourselves treated with Mikey's card," you murmured, reaching up to loosen the tie around your neck.

They watch as you move.

Removing your coat. Loosening your tie. Fingers deftly unfastening the band in your hair, letting pale strands that are not so different from Mikey's spill over your shoulders.

You don't miss the way their eyes linger.

You pause.

Then scoff, pulling your sleeves up to your elbows.

"Creeps."

They blink.

"You guys have been doing that a lot lately."

"We don't know what you're talking about," Rindou sneers, clearly trying to cover up the fact that he was absolutely staring at you.

Which is hilarious, considering that until now, he's never paid you much attention.

To deflect, he jabs a thumb toward Sanzu, who is still grinning like a lunatic, emerald eyes still locked on you.

"Anyway, the hell is that on his hand?"

Kokonoi follows Rindou's gesture, eyes narrowing at the document Sanzu won't let go of.

"Did 'ya also buy that using Mikey's card?" he guesses, voice tinged with suspicion. But when you shake your head, he doesn't look surprised.

Of course. Mikey wouldn't waste his money on some bullshit like buying a Valentino factory for Sanzu.

Which only leaves one possibility.

"Then why?" Ran finally voices what everyone is thinking, his expression still perplexed. "Could've just bought him a shirt as a replacement."

The others immediately agree, even Kakucho, who rarely weighs in on stupid conversations like this.

Rindou, still fixated on the obnoxious price tag, crosses his arms, saying something along the lines about how much of a bragger you are.

Sanzu hushes them all with a sudden movement, standing up.

And in that instant, you regret everything.

You mentally cuss, recognizing that look on his face.

The last thing you need is Sanzu fucking Haruchiyo getting worked up over something as stupid as this contract.

But it's already too late.

His grin stretches wider, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes as he strides forward.

And you—you do not move.

It takes you half a second to realize something's off.

Because normally, this wouldn't be a big deal.

Normally, you wouldn't give a shit about Sanzu's antics.

But for the first time ever, you find yourself locked in a prolonged staring contest with him.

And the atmosphere shifts.

The air between you turns thick as Sanzu gets closer and closer, his ocean-blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

The others notice it too.

Because suddenly, they feel like they shouldn't be here.

Like something about this exchange is different.

Unfamiliar.

Unsettling.

"Shut up, you people. I got this shit already," Sanzu finally breaks the silence, but his grin only widens when he realizes you aren't backing down.

That you aren't looking away.

That you aren't moving.

"I got this."

Kokonoi, sensing the weird tension, rolls his eyes and attempts to dismiss it.

"And what shit did you get exactly?"

Sanzu doesn't even acknowledge him.

Instead, his gaze remains locked on yours, his voice rising with excitement as the realization dawns on him.

"I can't believe I just realized this today!"

You and the others stare at him, baffled.

What the fuck is he talking about now?

Sanzu tilts his head, taking another step forward. Closer than before. Too close.

His voice drops to something almost teasing.

"[Name]. . . you're quite sneaky, aren't 'ya?"

You hum, giving zero reaction to his ridiculous ramblings.

This guy.

Whenever Sanzu starts going off like this, especially when he's gloating about the fact that you gave him something, just him, not the others, you already know.

Whatever comes out of his mouth next is going to be the dumbest shit you've ever heard.

And yet, somehow, some-fucking-how, he still manages to catch you off guard.

You saw it coming. You predicted it.

But you still weren't expecting him to actually say it.

"I understand why you people are jealous," he drawls, wiggling his brows at you with a stupid smirk, clearly enjoying himself.

His head tilts back toward the others, his grin widening with sheer arrogance.

"I mean, she's not the type to give anyone anything, yeah? This is the first time, and you guys know what that means. . ."

His ocean-blue eyes glint, pupils blown wide. He looks high as fuck.

"Didn't even cross my mind before, considering how we've almost killed each other every single day," he sighs dramatically as if reminiscing on some tragic love story instead of the fact that you two have genuinely tried to murder each other before.

The others blink.

"Huh?"

"Don't worry, [Name]," Sanzu continues, ignoring their confusion as he focuses solely on you, "I understand where you're coming from."

Oh no.

"Must've been hard, huh? Keeping all those feelings to yourself?"

Oh, no.

"I'll accept your confession, but don't expect me to give you an answer, alright?"

What.

"You've been such an ass to me for so long, and I don't wanna flatly say this, but. . ."

No.

"I don't really like you."

WHAT.

Kokonoi chokes on air.

Rindou lets out a short, stunned laugh.

Ran grins, clearly amused as hell.

Kakucho looks like he wants to leave the room.

And you—

You are frozen.

Not out of shock. Not out of embarrassment.

But out of pure, unfiltered, murderous rage.

He's still talking.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm rejecting you."

You open your mouth to end his fucking life, but—

"But!"

Sanzu has the audacity to shove a finger against your lips, silencing you before you can verbally annihilate him.

Your eye twitches.

"I'm not rejecting this, though," he gestures to the contract, waving it in your face, his smirk smug as hell. "Sorry, [Name]. You're just not really my type."

"I'm working, Ran."

The process of immersing yourself to focus and finishing the documents while listening to the sexual bliss next door was least to say, extremely difficult on your part.

Every focus you attempt slips away like sand through your fingers, your temple throbbing in frustration. No matter how hard you try to block it out, the noise refuses to leave, testing your patience to its breaking point.

You long to escape as soon as possible from the infernal abyss of the headquarters but to no avail, the executives made it clear that they were horny enough to never give you a break.

They've been on it for five straight hours. Yes, five constant hours of nonstop fucking. It is only until seven o'clock in the evening that they stop and you can breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Please. Just this time, angel. Order for us, hm?"

You roll your eyes, but can't deny the fingers already brushing the phone's receiver to dial a number.

"How about you actually call the restaurant yourself instead of wasting time with me?" you huff, though the motion of pressing the digits betrays you as you order them a set of toothsome delicacies from a five-star restaurant. "And would you mind the petname? Please, I'm not one to praising."

"Derogatory type?" you weren't there to see the older Haitani, but you could almost tell he was smirking from the other line. "Didn't know you were that. . . kinky."

"Shut up. Tell Koko I'm charging it to his card. Bye."

Stretching your arms, you close Kakucho's laptop after saving all the files and neatly arranging the papers in their respective drawers. Tomorrow, he'll have everything ready for Mikey to sign off on the new bar opening in the Red Light District of Shinjuku.

"Peluda," you call, and the small Foldie Cat immediately scrambles down the leather sofa, sprinting toward you. It leaps into your arms, paws clinging to your limbs.

With a click, you lock the door behind you and trudge toward the office of the rosette, deciding to make a quick visit.

The noise has quieted down. You assume they're either taking care of Yui or sorting themselves out.

At least, that's what you think until your hand twists the doorknob and you step inside.

"Could've at least cleaned the woman."

A frown tugs at your lips when you spot Yui Ukishima passed out on the sofa, her legs still spread wide. There's evidence of the earlier activities with how the cum drips between her plush thighs.

You sigh, setting Peluda gently on Kakucho's lap and heading for Sanzu's washroom to grab some wipes. You crouch down beside the woman, carefully cleaning the mess from her body.

Yes, you wiped their cum, and as disgusting as it may seem, you don't mind as long as the woman recovers to her decent and pristine self.

This is the least you could do despite threatening her life as some sort of weakness for Bonten all the time.

"He's fucking scared." Sanzu laughs, his emerald eyes gleaming as he points at Peluda, who's desperately trying to crawl back into Kakucho's arms, even though there's barely any space left except for the toned stretch of his stomach. "Hundred bucks, he'll piss on Kakucho's pants."

You don't hesitate. Grabbing the tissue soaked in the aftermath of their earlier activity, you flick it toward Sanzu with precision, smacking it straight to his face.

"Stop bullying my cat."

Kokonoi chuckles to himself.

"Fuck, that's nasty."

"Goddamn it, [Name]," Sanzu growls, wiping his face in disgust before storming off toward his own bathroom to rinse the mess off.

You stand up, brushing your hands off and scanning the room with a sharp gaze. "Where's her underwear?"

Rindou, half-dressed in his slacks, gives a lazy shrug.

"Somewhere in the room, I guess." His voice is flat as he glances at you, then quickly returns to his phone. "I wouldn't bother with it, though. Brother tore it up."

Ran catches the shift in your expression, the frown that tugs at your lips. With a sly wink, he leans back in his chair.

"Sorry, babe."

You sigh, already knowing what to expect. The Bonten way.

"Just get the damn food when it arrives, alright?"

With a click of your tongue, you turn on your heel, deciding to head back to your office for a moment to lend the woman something more appropriate. You've kept a small set of your own clothes in a mini wardrobe at work—learned that lesson the hard way after Mikey worked you to the bone so many times, leaving you too exhausted to go home at the end of the night.

"Holy shit," Ran murmurs, his amethyst eyes widening in genuine interest as they catch the sight of the lingerie set you're holding.

The moment the older Haitani speaks, the other executives shift their attention toward you and the garment in your hands.

Their lips part slightly, eyes widening, a ripple of surprise running through the room. They watch, mouths going dry as you lay the delicate set across the sofa.

Now, this is not what they expect from you.

Not in a million years can they imagine that you are into an ivory set of lingerie trimmed with frilly v-string floral motifs.

No. It's because you are a damned woman who carries a Glock all the time, that it never crosses their mind that you wear the kind of lingerie that only angels will wear.

"Someone must've gifted that to her or something," Rindou mutters, shaking his head as he exhales.

Ran, however, jumps from his seat, his eyes locked on the bralette as he reaches for it. His fingers graze the soft fabric, sending a shiver through his body.

"Fuck, 'tis your size?"

You snatch it from his hands before he can get any closer, rolling your eyes.

"Would you mind?"

Disregarding Ran's attempt to pester you with his pointless questions, you focus on dressing the woman in your set of underwear.

The bralette isn't quite her size, but you tighten the straps on her back, adjusting it as best as you can.

You can feel the weight of everyone's gaze on you, their eyes following your every move as you tend to their fucked-up princess.

You shoot them a look, irritated, wondering what the hell their problem is.

It's not like you'll do something that will harm the woman when it was clear as the day you're lending her a hand.

"'S there something on my face?" you ask, your voice flat.

Kakucho clears his throat, his eyes flickering to your cat instead, clearly uncomfortable under your gaze. He hadn't even realized he was staring until now.

Kokonoi sighs and stands, shaking his head, as a knock echoes from the door. Probably the food.

"I definitely missed something," Sanzu mutters, his sharp eyes flicking between the room's tense atmosphere and the way Rindou's eyes keep lingering on you.

That's not like him—Rindou barely looks at anyone for more than a few seconds, but now he can't seem to take his eyes off you.

Sanzu's intuition tells him something's off, especially when he notices how your gaze flits between the four men in the room. Even Ran, of all people, is avoiding your eyes.

That's odd because Ran, no matter what, is never one to get embarrassed in front of anyone, least of all you.

"What the fuck is up?"

"Nothin'," you sigh, standing up from your crouched position. "You got a shirt in your wardrobe?"

"Why?" Sanzu asks, looking genuinely confused.

You point at the woman lying on the couch, her form still limp and vulnerable.

Sanzu scrunches his nose, clearly displeased with the idea of lending his expensive clothes to the woman he just fucked.

"Don't you have yours?"

Ran, who's been quiet until now, genuinely asks, his curiosity piqued. He's wondering if there are other things left in your closet that will surprise him.

"I don't," you respond with a shrug, already stepping toward Sanzu's closet. You don't have time for this shit, and you've got things to do. "Wore them yesterday, left them in the laundry."

The moment you make a move toward the closet, Sanzu's senses kick in. He immediately blocks your path, putting his body between you and the door. He's not having it.

You can feel your temper flaring. A tick mark forms on your forehead as you stare up at him. "Move the fuck out of the way, Sanzu."

But he's not budging. "What the hell are you doing?" He crosses his arms, not about to make this easy.

The frustration boils over. You kick his kneecaps without hesitation, sending him stumbling back. "Fucking asshole. Can't even lend a shirt to the woman you fucked up?" You scowl, reaching into his closet and grabbing a plain white cotton shirt. "That's the least you can do after what you put her through."

"Shut up," Sanzu growls, his teeth gritted. His hands ball into fists. He's pissed, and it's not just about the shirt. 

It was because it was a worthless woman he only fucked for fun that he didn't want to lend anything related to the fruits of hard work.

"You're paying me for this shit."

You only scoff as you casually start dressing the woman. It's only a shirt, what's he whining for?

"Whatever."

"No, because I'm gonna kill your fucking whore if you don't give him to me!"

The day barely begins, yet the headquarters is already in shambles.

A gunshot echoes through the grand corridor, followed by the unmistakable crash of something expensive shattering into a thousand pieces. A collective wince runs through the lobby as every witness instinctively knows that Takeomi is going to lose his mind when he sees his million-dollar antique vase reduced to dust.

"Let's just hope Boss gets here early," one of the staff mutters, watching the scene unfold like an unsupervised playground, only with loaded firearms and murderous intent.

It's a familiar scene they all witness on a daily basis. The so-called top executives who were revered, feared, and supposedly the backbone of the syndicate are once again locked in a ridiculous, life-threatening squabble.

At this point, no one even bats an eye. The new recruits are horrified. The veterans? They merely sigh, sipping their coffee, resigned to the chaos.

The cause of today's catastrophe?

Peluda. Your beloved Foldie Cat.

Kidnapped once again by the infamous Bonten Trio, who now stands at the center of the madness, passing the poor feline between them like a game of catch.

And you? You're storming after them with a loaded Glock, your patience hanging by a thread, your fury making even the most hardened criminals in the organization shrink away.

The receptionist flinches when your sharp voice cuts through the commotion.

"You."

His throat tightens as he swallows hard, sweat forming at his temple while your piercing gaze locks onto him, pinning him in place.

"Get that fucking woman here. I'll sample that son of a bitch why he should never mess with me."

A tense silence fills the room.

Sanzu halts mid-step. Ran and Rindou freeze, their game of hot potato cat abruptly ending as they clutch onto Peluda. All eyes shift to the receptionist, whose trembling frame betrays his internal battle which is to follow orders or risk the wrath of the pink-haired devil currently narrowing his emerald eyes at him.

The moment the poor man hesitates, Sanzu's voice cuts through.

"Don't you dare."

You step closer, the cold gleam of the gun almost matching the iciness in your tone.

"You heard me." You taunt, the words slipping from your lips as you close the distance between you and the trembling man. The pistol in your grip feels as much like an extension of yourself as your own hand. "I'll bury a bullet in your head if you hesitate again."

A flicker of panic crosses his face.

"Goddamn, chill, woman. Mikey will be furious if you touch his schoolgirl." Ran's voice is strained, an attempt at de-escalating the situation, but the moment he speaks, you turn, eyes void of any emotions, and aim the weapon directly at him.

"Shit wouldn't happen if you just give him back to me," you spit, voice dripping with contempt.

Rindou, leaning his weight on one of his legs, rolls his eyes.

With a dramatic sigh, he lets go of the furball. The cat darts towards you, its tiny paws scurrying across the floor like it knows this is its only escape from the chaos. The little creature's quivering body finds solace in your arms, the soothing touch of your fingers against its ears calming it just enough to stop the shaking.

"Okay, fine. Geez, can't even take a joke." Rindou's voice is full of mockery as he shrugs it off.

You don't laugh.

Instead, you fire a shot, the bullet zipping past Rindou's face so close that he can feel the heat of it.

"Fuck!"

You smirk, an unsettling grin tugging at your lips as you mused on his reaction.

"Your dick is coming next if you fuck with me again."

The room falls into a tense silence for a split second before Rindou retorts, his grin wider than ever.

"No shit, Sherlock. This is why cats are the only bitches you have."

The audacity of it.

You almost react and let the smirk slip—but then Sanzu and Ran burst into laughter, their cackles filling with mockery.

You cast a piercing glance their way, and slowly, you slide your gun back into the hidden pocket of your tailored suit, its cold metal in contrast against the warmth of your body.

With the cat in your arms, you pivot away and stride back down the dimly lit hallway.

Every day with them feels like a fresh wave of frustration, yet you've learned to endure.

Ever since you became one of Bonten's top executives, you've found yourself fighting to retain your grip on your sanity. But these men, especially those three, they never let you have peace.

They taunt you, mess with your life, toy with your every weakness.

Take the damn cat. It's not just a pet, it's your last shred of softness in this hardened world, and they know it.

Every time they toss it around like a game, they rip something inside you. But the worst thing is the endless cycle of ridiculous tasks they set for you, nearly pushing you to the edge.

Tasks that nearly end with you meeting the grim reaper, yet somehow, you always slip through, with nothing but a streak of luck to thank for your survival.

But still, it wears you off. The thrill of power and respect doesn't come without its price, and they've made damn sure that price is paid in full, every single day.

They love holding your suffering in their hands as if it were some twisted game they get off on.

They never leave you alone, always treating you like a toy for their amusement. Every time you retaliate, gun in hand, they laugh and push your buttons just to see how far they can take it before you snap.

It's a daily game of chaos. One where you're left firing shots through the corridors until Takeomi storms in, furious about the damage to his priceless porcelain collection.

But despite the constant antics and the way they toy with you, best believe there's no real bad blood between you and the other executives.

This is just how they show affection. You, pointing a gun at them. Them, running from you. You, threatening their lives. And them, enjoying the frustrated look on your face. They get a twisted satisfaction from hearing the sound of your heels clicking against the floor as you chase them down.

Things might have been easier if more of them were like Kakucho or if they shared the same build as him—respectful, well-mannered, and real mature.

The guy's a rarity in this pit of hell, someone who actually treats you with decency despite the fact that he's a criminal. He doesn't mock you, doesn't toss your cat around like the others.

He knows how to be kind and it's something you genuinely respect him for.

And right now, Kakucho is being an absolute lifesaver. You couldn't be more thankful for his presence, especially in this nightmare of a day.

"God. That's the spot, Kaku. Push it more right there." You groan, your body practically melting under his touch as his thumb presses into the tension in your shoulder blades, applying just the right amount of pressure.

The exhaustion from dealing with paperwork and the constant headache from the Bonten Trio has left you drained but Kakucho, always perceptive, noticed how worn-out you were when you showed up at his doorstep.

He didn't ask questions. Instead, he guided you to his office, where you both handled confidential documents, and then he offered the one thing you needed most; a massage and a moment of peace.

You hum, trying to hide the way your body shudders at the relief he's providing.

"Did I do it right?" Kakucho asks, his voice a little amused.

"Yeah. Just squeeze it like that."

Kakucho did what you tell him, and you can't help but hum.

"What the actual fuck."

You hear Kokonoi's voice from the doorway before you even turn your head, and immediately, you know where this is going.

He sounds just as judgy as he looks, eyebrows raised in exaggerated disbelief as his eyes scan the scene unfolding in front of him.

"For a second, I thought you guys were doing the thing."

Kakucho flushes deep red at the suggestion, his hands instinctively pulling back from your shoulders as if he's suddenly realized just how this could be interpreted. But you're quick to defend him.

"Shut the fuck up, Hajime," you snap, glaring at Kokonoi with a pointed stare.

"You can't blame me," Kokonoi grins, enjoying the discomfort he's caused. "I mean, come on. You moaned. Like, actually moaned."

You roll your eyes, hands waving dismissively. "Moans don't always mean what you think they mean, alright?" You give Kakucho a quick look of reassurance, but it's clear you're trying to redirect the conversation. "Sometimes, it's just relief. Get your mind out of the gutter, Hajime."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Kokonoi smirks, then snaps the navy-haired man out of his daze.

Kakucho's attention shifts as Kokonoi's words finally reach him.

"Yui's in Sanzu's office. You joining?"

You suppress a sigh, already understanding exactly where this conversation is headed.

So, they're at it again.

Yui Ukishima, the poor woman you had just threatened earlier, is once again in Sanzu's office, fulfilling her role as their plaything.

It's messed up, really.

Yui isn't even a prostitute. Mikey stumbled upon her when he was passing by a university and, finding her attractive, decided to have the Bonten Trio kidnap her and bring her back to the headquarters.

She's been here for what? Almost a year now? Doing everything they demand of her without a word of resistance—fucking and taking care of their cocks like the good girl she was.

She is exactly the type of girl the executives of Bonten want. Someone they aim to corrupt and strip of her innocence, and they succeed without a doubt. It's Bonten—the worst criminal organization in Japan, what can you say? They fucked her dumb enough for her to develop Stockholm Syndrome. Crazy, you must say.

She is one of those victims of their sensual gratification who is falling deep into the lion's den to bother to escape or even ask for your help, which doesn't surprise you anymore as you think she's also enjoying the feeling of five cocks in her body whenever you hear her pleas and whines.

"Quiet down, or I won't hold back putting a bullet through her brain this time."

Kokonoi merely smirks, arms crossed. The type of woman you are; all bark and no bite.

Yui Ukishima is Mikey's most prized possession. Killing her means defying him, and you aren't one to disobey his orders.

Despite portraying the cold demeanor, Kokonoi knows how much of an obedient woman you are to Mikey.

He was your King; much like how Sanzu worships him.

"Jealous 'cause you got no bitches?"

You scowl, growing tired of their old joke of teasing how you have no men to pleasure you.

"What's with you and the others flocking over my bitches?"

Sure, there are some of them, particularly from the clubs you own. However, they aren't like like Yui who remains the longest with them.

Your sex drive was crazy that no man was able to withstand it and had always been the first one to pass out of consciousness before you could. Therefore, as naturally as you would, you had them disposed of and let it be a memory of a one-night stand instead of keeping them by your side.

However, Bonten would like to think you were just a bore in bed that's why you have no whores on your side. Little did they know, though.

"Well, maybe if you find a man who can last with you then we can stop. Though, I doubt you can find anyone as good as us."

You raised a brow, intrigued.

"You implyin' something, Hajime?"

He hums, something within his eyes flashing an emotion you can't quite recognize in your years of being so-called comrades.

Instead of responding, Kokonoi only brushes off your question with a casual wave of his hand, leaving you in Kakucho's office to think if he actually meant something behind his words or if he was just messing around with you to rattle your emotions.

Well, that is, until one by one, you hear sinful groans, whines, and skin slapping from the office next door that makes you bury your face in your palms, damn interrupted from thinking and even working from the paperwork.

"Stupid fucks, I told them to quiet down."

CHAPTER ONE | PLATONIC LOVE. platonic love is a type of love that is neither sexual nor romantic; something that the executives have been feeling towards you for the past few years - or so they would like to believe.

CHAPTER TWO | ALL EYES ON YOU. tension fills the air as they get to know a lil’ bit of what you have in your closet.

CHAPTER THREE | THAT ONE AFTERNOON. there's something about [Name]'s gift that made everyone go crazy.