Warning- spicy but mild suggestive scene. Nothing super explicit, but Kira is weird.
And simon, if you're reading this, I'm sorry I was paid to do this shit. I am not above bribery.
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Another dreadful morning.
Feeling greased with fatigue and choked by their poorly swallowed pills, the ring master of this gambling house so fine assumes their rotting position at their desk, and you fall into your routine of leading yourself into burn out.
Before the group of imbeciles arrived, mornings such as this made you feel like you were spending the day in limbo. That didn't change with their arrival, like some may assume, but it surely made the day particularly difficult to get through.
A heavy depression settles along your shoulders, a vulture perching itself to weigh you down, as the outside world melts into something murky and grey. Moisture fogs up your window and poisons the air with the thick smell of fallen rain.
You can taste the aroma of the wet world outside through your window, and it sours your coffee to a taste you gag on.
And as you make a face of repulse, drinking down the cup no matter how much it wanted to come back up, the long-awaited knocking of one of those idiots downstairs finally met your door.
"Come in."
The door silently shifted on its hinges and welcomed Wamuu inside, in his hand a small platter of food. "Good morning, Mx. (Y/n)."
"It's just a morning today. What can I help you with?"
"Pucci asked me to bring you this plate he made. He's worried you didn't eat this morning."
Wamuu carefully set the plate on one of the side tables accompanying a couch, and pulled himself to the front of your desk.
His headpiece jingled quietly as the crystals met each other, silenced by the touch of the cloth wrapped around his hair. Behind the curtain of his accessories was a contemplative face you hated to see.
Allowing him to stall his question only meant that he would have to stay in the same room with you longer than necessary, and already you can't stand his presence. You're already waving your hand for him to spit it out before he even opens his mouth.
"I wanted to apologize for the trouble we brought you. My brothers, and myself." He says quickly, though not without demurral. "If there is something I can do for you personally to make this right, I'd be happy-"
"Thank you, Wamuu, but I don't care." You interrupt. "You're doing enough just by not fighting with me about your circumstances, which I appreciate more than you'll ever know."
"But that can't be all I can do, right?"
"If you're asking for more work, then Kars may need some help with the bar today since Kira's out. If you want something permanent that's high-risk and high-reward, then I can think of something for you to do."
"That would be appreciated, thank you." Wamuu stands there for another second with an odd expression. Cracking through his otherwise plain face, there is a bit of a relief of something, and he turns to leave.
Light paces make their way to your door, and you pray for his riddance, but it does not come soon enough. Wamuu stops at the exit to your office and turns back around, his red suit vest wrinkling with the movement.
"If it's worth anything to you, I happen to think you're rather nice."
You pause your work to look at him. "It's not worth anything. Though why do you say?"
"Well, I've seen the way the others are a bit pissed at having to work here, they're mad because they have something to go back to when this is all done. Some of us don't, and this'll be the best we ever have it."
"Very cute. What's your point."
"I wanted to ask if I could still work here once my debt is paid off, and have this as an actual job, if you'd let me."
"We'll have to see; I know a criminal record is holding you back," You can see him visibly stiffen. "But as long as what happened is not too severe, and you have a perfect explanation for it, I'd be glad to offer you a permanent place here. Just prove to me you can do the work right."
The air around him seemed to brighten with his smile, and he was back to your desk in mere moments to shake your hand graciously.
It was obvious with how tight his uniform fit him that Wamuu was incredibly large, and by that length, incredibly strong, but the feeling of your hand being crushed beneath his much larger one was still a surprising and unwelcome feeling.
You could've sworn you felt your finger bones click together beneath your glove in horrid fashion. The glove itself nearly even slipped off when he pulled away, something that caused you to yelp and tug it back with unprecedented force.
His joy quickly faded as concern took over, fear he's screwed up his chance, and fear he's hurt you. "Forgive me, I got too excited, I didn't-- are you alright? Should I go get that little nurse man?"
You grimaced as you snapped the glove back onto your wrist, not even bothering to acknowledge his despairing expression that's convinced him he's messed it all up.
"You aren't in any trouble, I know you're just happy at the opportunity. How about we talk about this at a later time, after you've proven to me your skill? I'm sure you have much to show me."
"I won't let you down. Thank you again, Mx. (Y/n). I'll get out of your hair now."
Wamuu, for lack of better wording, skipped to the office doors to resume his work and prove himself, when he suddenly stopped his exit once more.
"By the way," He says, turning back around. "Do you know where Kira is? You said he was out, but not where."
"If my memory serves me well, I sent him out with Valorie on an errand." You don't bother to look at him when you answer. Perhaps that should've been his first clue. "Now, no more questions or distractions. Let's get back to work."
That venomous green light he saw on his first day made itself known again, and it burned him beneath its violent glare.
No more questions or distractions. Let's get back to work.
The door closed behind him as he fell into that familiar auto-pilot, and you were finally given peace.
"Do you hear that Kira? People are looking for you." You spoke into the air.
A bit of an amused smile came when there was no reply, and you left your chair in a gingerly hop as you walked to your bedroom with a key tucked into your palm. You could hear the bedframe squeak when you audibly stuck the key inside the doorknob.
It was dark when the door finally opened, only the stream of light from your office serving to illuminate the cavernous environment. That was when the figure on the bed made itself known to you.
"Untie me you sick fuck."
You clicked your tongue and shut the door behind you, locking it all within the same beat. The light was gone and the only way to see was with what little the sun could offer through the closed curtains.
"Don't get an attitude with me because you lost the bet, Kira. The week is up, and I've failed to see your point." There's a slight jingle that resonates through the room, and something is snatched from your dresser.
"What the hell is that in your hand?"
You twirl it around your finger once, twice. "Oh, did you think I was joking when I said I was going to put a real collar on you?
A resistance came in chaotic thrashing, Kira pulling against whatever he was bound by and attempting to force himself away from you, though of course it was all futile. A quick "Enough." hit his body like a punch, and he quickly found himself complicit.
His muscle refusing the command of mind, he willed himself to fight again, and to ignore your suggestion just as he had done once before, though something was different. Something had changed to the degree that he could not disobey as easily as he had before.
"Something tells me you like this, Yoshikage. Not once have I before seen you so easily going along with something I know you disagree to."
A thick strap comes to hug his throat, and behind him comes a terrifying click that locks it into place. The leather digs into his skin uncomfortably, and all at once it's entirely too hard to breathe.
You allow him a moment to collect himself, adjust to the change he's bound to fight once he snaps out of your suggestion, and fit the collar so that it's not so tight and annoying. "It should feel like a second skin, let me know if something isn't right."
"This whole thing isn't right."
"Kira. You made the bet, and you lost. Now, I will admit that this made me realize I should somewhat tone down my suggestions, so I will not force you to wear this as long as I originally planned since you, only partially, won."
"Right, and what's stopping me from just cutting this thing off?"
"You can't." You take a pair of scissors to it in demonstration, and watch him swallow dryly as the edge presses against his throat. "It's protected by my power alone, so that nothing can undo it or take it off except my key."
The scissors retract, and there's no damage done. Not even a slight cut or tear for him to continue with.
The tool clatters back onto the dresser, and your deft finger return to his throat once again, applying a light pressure here, then there, and testing how comfortable it is.
You feel him lightly shudder beneath your fingers as you trace around the collar, not bothering to embarrass him further with the mention of it. He was probably already aware he'd done it, just as you assume he was when he snapped up straight from you wrapping your hand around his neck.
"Now, again. This isn't meant as a torture device, so let me know if something isn't right."
Kira only quietly nodded to your words, and for whatever reason, nearly seemed to relax a bit from his previous rebellious outbursts. "...It's a little tight."
"Let me loosen it for you, then." There was a quiet click behind him, and his behavior changed in an instant.
With you at such close proximity he had the opportunity to fight back in a way that he wouldn't need his bound hands for-- And something sharp clamped around your forearm.
The feeling of teeth sinking into the skin beneath your shirt was an unexpected surprise that left you hissing in pain. Your kindness betrayed, and your patience already worn thin, you whipped your backhand across his cheek and knocked his head sideways. It only took a moment for an ugly red welt to appear on his cheek.
"Quit acting like a fucking animal. You're gonna make me think you really do need a collar to make you behave." You spat. "After that stunt, I couldn't much care how tight this thing is. So, how about- Why the fuck do you look like that?"
The room was still fairly dark, and the light that hit the curtain behind the bed was as minimal as it could get without being borderline night, but still you could see the faintest look of... something.
It was a gross something, flushed face and slow, shaky breathing. The awkward shifting he made in his bindings only seemed to make the message he was trying so hard not to get across all the more clear.
"You're fucking disgusting." It didn't much seem like anything was going on in his head at the moment, he didn't even look like he heard what you said.
Sweat glittered along his face, his neat hair had been ruined by your earlier abuses and strands now hung in front of his face in little collections. He looked up at you through his lashes and let his mouth twitch into a slight grin.
"We're not doing this." You said, already seizing his throat with your hand to snap the collar back on. It wasn't easy to ignore the way he whimpered when you squeezed it to still him. "This is the extent of what I will do to you, as is written in the contract."
"I know what you really want to do to me."
"How perfect. Then you're aware I want to get back to work instead of dealing with you and whatever kinky issues you have."
"Ten minutes."
"No, no ten minutes, you get nothing. You're going right back to work after this."
"...Five minutes."
"Sweetheart." You gripped him by the jaw. "You wouldn't even last one with me. Take this loss gracefully and leave my office."
"I'm going to regret saying this, but," Kira leaned into your hand. "You wanna bet?"
You would've thought he learned his lesson from last time.
------
Little hits bounced off the roof as clouds emptied themselves onto the city, and Valorie comes in sprinkled with rainwater, dragging someone you hope is unconscious and not dead into your office.
"I got that debtor you asked for. Motherfucker can run, lemme tell you." She huffed, dropping the persons leg to the ground and leaving them sprawled and bleeding on your nice, clean carpet.
"You're making a mess." You said, not looking up from your work.
"Yeah, sorry, I'll clean it in a second."
It was obvious she wore herself out chasing them. She fell into the closest seat nearby and melted into the cushion, getting all nice and comfortable-- when she suddenly made a sour face.
It was such a rapid change you would've thought someone had flipped a switch in her brain. She pulled herself to sit upright and sniffed the air, paused, and smelled it again.
"I'm gonna be frank with you." She pauses to smell the air again. "It smells like sex in here."
"You must've dragged that in."
"(Y/n), did you have someone in here?"
"No." You said.
You know, like a liar.
"Open a window or something. D'Arby will kill you if he finds out." Valorie warned, sticking her nose into the collar of her shirt. "I'll get you some air freshener. Good for you though that... Whatever happened, happened."
You smiled. "Thank you. I feel somewhat more relaxed now."
"Nice-- Also, fix your suit, and get your work done early so I can take you out to drink."