𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄. ⁰⁰¹
✑ GENRE: slowburn. angst. nsfw 18+.EDITED!
✑ WARNING: explicit language. mature themes. topics of violence and murder. stockholm syndrome (not the reader). sexual tension if you squint. reader is an executive. other bonten stuff. strictly mdni.
✑ SYNOPSIS: 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.
(📂) ⇢ masterlist. 〡 (📂) ⇢ next chapter.
CHAPTER ONE | PLATONIC LOVE.
"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."
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