Waking up in my dr, in my boyfriend's arm with his nose rubbing against my neck while he's still deep in his sleep, his arms wrapped around me like I'm the only one that matters... oh how much I languish for the slow mornings with my boyfriend and just feeling his breath close to my skin and his heartbeat against the palm of my hand...
You're married to one of the biggest yakuza bosses. Your life is filled with luxury, loyalty, love and always being by his side. Everything feels perfect, until one night makes you realize what his words really means.
🗯️ vaeh’s note: this took me months to finish (literally) but yakuza Riki is finally here! im obsessed with this fic but it’s way longer than intented it to be... im so tired bru
⊹
You’re in the mall. Designer shopping bags hanging off your wrist, another in the crook of your elbow, the faint scent of luxury perfume still clinging to your skin from the testers you tried five minutes ago.
You pause in front of a mirror near one of the stores, adjusting your grip slightly, glancing at your reflection.
Heels, perfect. Hair, gorgeous. Dress, classy.
Your phone starts ringing. You look at it, Riki’s assistant.
You sigh. You let it ring, slipping your phone back into your purse like it’s nothing. Not right now.
You turn slightly, already heading toward the next store—
It rings again. You stop and stare straight ahead for a second. Then ignore it and keep walking.
Then immediately starts again.
You let out a quiet breath through your nose, shifting the bags in your arms before finally digging your phone out.
“What?” you answer, not even trying to sound polite.
“Mrs. Nishimura--” he starts, slightly out of breath, like he’s been trying to reach you for a while. “Riki needs you in his office. Now.”
You frown, slowing your steps.
“…Why?”
There’s a brief pause on the other end.
“He said no questions.”
Of course he said that. You close your eyes for a second, irritation flashing across your face.
“For fuck’s sake.”
You hang up before he can say anything else.
“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath.
You turn on your heel immediately.
No more shopping. No more perfume. No more wasting time.
Your heels click against the marble floor as your pace quickens, jogging through the calm atmosphere of the mall. People glance at you running out the mall with your arms full of bags, but you don’t care.
The automatic doors slide open the second you approach, cool air hitting your face as you step outside.
Your car is already waiting. Black Jeep, tinted windows. It’s huge and it looks intimidating.
You walk straight toward it, not slowing down, the driver already stepping out to open the door for you. You slide in without a word, dropping your bags onto the seat beside you.
“Office,” you say simply.
The door shuts and the car drives away immediately.
--
You didn’t meet Riki in a normal way. Nothing about him was ever normal
It was years ago. Back when you were still working as a receptionist at the most expensive hotel in the city. It had polished floors, gold details, the kind of place where people whispered instead of spoke.
You were behind the front desk. Calm. Kind. Bored, if anything.
Then the doors slammed open fast and loud. Six men rushed in, guns already pulled and loaded.Everything shifted in seconds.
Screaming filled the lobby almost instantly. Guests dropping their bags, people ducking, others freezing completely as guns were pointed straight at them.
“Everybody down!” one of them yelled. “Everybody on the fucking floor now!”
Someone cried. Another tried to run and got shoved hard to the ground.
You didn’t move. You just watched. Hands resting calmly on the counter in front of you, eyes tracking the chaos like it was a fever dream.
They moved fast. One group toward the cash registers. Another toward the second floor.
Orders being barked, staff being dragged through doors, ordered to unlock safes for them. One man was pulled forward roughly, a gun pressed against his head as he struggled.
That’s when you noticed him.
Riki.
Standing behind a man, one arm locked around his shoulders, holding him in place with a gun placed steady against his temple.
“If you don’t cooperate,” he said, voice calm. “I’ll shoot.”
You watched him.
He noticed you.
A shift in his focus like something didn’t add up. Because while everyone else was panicking, you were just sitting there, looking straight at him. Unbothered.
His grip on the man loosened slightly.
Then he shoved him forward without warning, letting him stumble away as he stepped out from behind him, for one of Riki’s guys to push him to the ground and beat him up just because he can.
Meanwhile Riki’s attention shifted fully to you.
He walked toward the counter slowly. Your eyes followed him the entire way.
He stopped in front of you and placed the gun down on the counter. Right in front of you.
Your eyes dropped to it for a second, then lifted back up to his.
“Don’t worry,” he said, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “I don’t hurt women and children.”
You held his gaze for a moment. Then slowly you turned your head slightly. Your eyes flicked to the side.
A woman sat a few feet away on the floor, clutching her head, blood seeping through her fingers as she cried.
You looked at her. Then back at him. One eyebrow raised.
Riki followed your gaze for a second. Then scoffed lightly, shaking his head.
“That wasn’t me,” he said, like it actually mattered. “One of my guys got carried away.”
You didn’t react the way he expected.
You didn’t cry, didn’t call for help, you didn’t even break eye contact.
Tilting your head slightly, you glanced at him like you were trying to figure him out, not like he was standing in front of you with a gun in the middle of a robbery.
“Are you like… the big boss or something?” you asked, voice calm, with just a hint of attitude.
Riki let out a quiet chuckle at that.
“Do I look like I am?” he shot back, raising a brow.
You shrugged lightly, leaning your weight onto one arm against the counter.
“You act like it.”
There was something in your tone. Not fear. Not even respect. Just confidence, that made his smirk widen.
He studied you for a second longer before asking, “You’re not scared or something?”
You frowned a little, like the question itself didn’t make sense.
“Why would I be scared?”
He let out a short breath, glancing around the lobby like it should’ve been obvious.
“Maybe because six armed men are robbing the place,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “People screaming, blood, guns out, ringing any bells?”
You followed his gesture lazily with your eyes, taking in the chaos for half a second before looking back at him.
Then you shrugged.
“I hate this job anyway,” you said simply. “I’ve been waiting for something to happen so I could get compensation money and get the hell out of here.”
There was a pause.
Then Riki laughed.
“I like you,” he said, shaking his head slightly like he didn’t expect that answer.
You didn’t react much to that either.
Just leaned back in your chair a little, arms crossing loosely.
He watched you for another second.
“D’you like whiskey?”
That made you smile. You leaned back a bit more, crossing one leg over the other, eyes still locked on his.
“Depends…” you said. “Is that an invitation?”
It was.
You told yourself you wouldn’t get involved.
Not with him. Not with any of it.
He was trouble from the first second you saw him, you knew that.
And yet it didn’t stay at just that one conversation.
He came back for you.
At first, it was just small things. A conversation here. A drink there.
Then he introduced you to his assistant. Then you found yourself visiting his office more often than you should’ve. Then you started recognizing the faces around him, his people, his crew.
They started recognizing you too.
It happened so slowly you didn’t even notice when the line disappeared.
The first time you really crossed it was small.
Just slipping a packet of money into someone’s hand on the street, doing Riki a “favor.”
You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.
But then there was another and another.
Then came the first time he put a gun in your hand. Standing behind you, guiding your grip, correcting your stance, his voice low in your ear as he taught you how to shoot.
After that there was no going back.
Now? You’re not just around him. You’re part of it.
You sit on his lap during meetings. While he discusses deals, threats, plans, your fingers play with his rings, your nails, anything within reach. Subtly sliding your foot up his leg underneath the table when you sit in front of him.
You distract enemies when needed. Wink at the right people. Talk when it benefits him.
Sometimes you’re the reason things work out smoothly.
Other times you’re standing right next to him while he’s beating information out of someone, arms crossed, completely unfazed, watching like it’s just another part of the day.
You don’t look away anymore.
And Riki… he’s completely gone for you. It’s obvious to everyone.
He doesn’t listen to anyone the way he listens to you.
One word from you, and he changes direction. One look, and he understands. You don’t even have to ask twice. If you tell him your feet hurt, he’s already picking you up before you finish the sentence, carrying you to the car like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
--
The car stops and the door is pulled open for you.
You step out, heels hitting the pavement as you look up at the building in front of you, tall, black, intimidating and expensive.
The glass doors open immediately.
His assistant is already there, like he’s been waiting.
“Mrs—”
You walk straight past him.
He falls into step beside you quickly, trying to keep up as you move through the lobby.
“He needs you—”
“I know, Kenji.” You cut him off smoothly, not even looking at him.
He opens his mouth again, then seems to think better of it, adjusting his pace instead.
“Let me take those, ma’am,” he offers, gesturing to the bags hanging off your arms.
You shake your head, barely sparing him a glance.
“I’ve got it.”
A small wave of your hand dismisses the offer completely.
You’re already heading for the elevator. He stops there. You step inside, pressing the button, your reflection staring back at you in the mirrored walls.
The moment the doors open again, you’re moving. Straight down the hallway.
You push the door open hard. It swings in.
You step inside, slightly out of breath from the rush, immediately dropping your bags onto the black couch near the door with a soft thud.
Riki is already standing hehind his desk with a glass of whiskey in his hand.
He sets it down a little harder than necessary.
“What took you so long?” he asks, his tone low, but edged.
You barely react, just shrug slightly, tilting your head toward the pile of bags behind you.
“I was shopping.”
He exhales through his nose, clearly not amused.
“When I say I need you,” he says, his voice tightening slightly, “you come. No delays.”
You walk toward him anyway, unbothered.
He sits back down in his chair, jaw still set.
“And don’t do that again,” he continues, already slipping into that tone he uses when he’s about to lecture you. “Walking around a place like that without anyone with you.”
You reach him, placing yourself casually on the armrest of his chair like you’ve done a hundred times before.
“I don’t want a bodyguard,” you say calmly.
Your fingers slide into his hair like it’s instinct, nails lightly dragging against his scalp as you start playing with it absentmindedly.
“You need one,” he argues, looking up at you now. “You’re involved in things you weren’t before. People talk. You don’t know who knows what.”
Your fingers keep moving. Slow and calming. You tilt your head slightly, looking down at him.
“Baby… I handled myself just fine before all of this,” you say softly. “Remember?”
He doesn’t respond immediately.
You lean down a little, your touch with more intention now.
“You walked into my hotel with a gun,” you remind him, your almost teasing. “And I didn’t even flinch.”
Your thumb brushes lightly along his temple. Your other hand is still in his hair.
“You really think I can’t handle a mall?”
He exhales again, but it’s different this time, less sharp. Your touch is working, italways does.
You lean in just a bit more, pressing a soft kiss near his temple, then another.
His shoulders relax slightly under your hands. You pull back to look at him again.
“So,” you murmur, voice smooth, like none of this was ever tense to begin with. “What did you need me here for?”
Riki watches you for a second after you ask, like he’s deciding how much to say first. e exhales and straightens slightly, his tone shifting back into business.
“We’re going out in a few hours,” he starts. “There’s a man, Kaizen Ito. Runs a garage on the south side. Big place. All money laundering.”
You hum softly, half-listening as you step away from him, crouching slightly by the couch to pull one of your shopping bags closer.
“He borrowed money a few months back,” Riki continues, eyes following you. “Large amount. Deadline was last month.”
You open the bag, pulling out a shoe box, inspecting it briefly.
“He didn’t pay,” Riki adds simply.
Of course, you think, do they ever pay?
You set the box aside and reach into another bag.
“We’re going there tonight. Me, Kenji, four of my men. We keep it clean. No unnecessary mess unless he makes it difficult.”
You nod faintly, but your attention is clearly split as you dig through your things.
Riki narrows his eyes slightly.
“I’ll handle him,” he goes on. “Kenji stays near the entrance. The others check the place, make sure there’s no surprises.”
You pull out a pair of heels, holding them up for a second like you’re debating something.
“And you—”
He pauses.
You’re not even looking at him. You’re fully focused on your bags.
Clap.
His hands make a sharp sound.
“Hey.”
You glance up.
“Come here,” he says, nodding toward himself. “And listen.”
You sigh softly but do as told, setting everything down and walking back over to him.
“Alright,” you mumble.
He watches you approach, making sure you’re actually paying attention this time before continuing.
“He’s got two daughters,” Riki says. “They’re usually in a separate room in the back of the garage.”
Your brows lift slightly.
“I don’t want them coming out,” he adds, voice firm. “Not while we’re there.”
You tilt your head a little, already understanding.
“So you’re going in there,” he continues, “keep them distracted. Talk to them, play with them, whatever you need to do. Just make sure they stay put.”
“Last thing I need is kids walking in while I’m fucking up their dad’s face.”
You nod slowly then lean in slightly, your gaze shifting to his face again, studying him.
“I can do that,” you say softly. “I’m good with children.”
He huffs out a quiet breath, one corner of his mouth lifting.
“Yeah?” he says, eyes dragging over your face. “Didn’t know that.”
You shrug lightly.
“Maybe you’ll find out one day.”
“You planning on being a good mother or something?” he echoes, stepping closer.
Your lips curve slightly.
“Maybe,” you murmur.
His hands are on you before you can say anything else. He grips your waist and lifts you effortlessly, turning you around and setting you down on the desk behind him.
You let out a small breath of surprise, hands instinctively landing on his shoulders to steady yourself.
He steps in between your legs immediately, his hands sliding up your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin.
“Careful what you say,” he mutters, leaning in, his lips brushing against your neck.
The kisses are messy and distracted. Like he’s thinking about too many things at once but still can’t help himself.
You tilt your head slightly, giving him more access without even thinking.
“Are you free right now?” you ask, voice quieter, a hint of teasing underneath.
He lets out a low chuckle against your skin.
“Not really,” he murmurs. “Got a meeting in fifteen.”
You hum, fingers sliding lightly into his hair.
“Fifteen’s enough.”
He pulls back just slightly, looking at you with a dangerous expression.
You tilt your head, a small smile playing on your lips.
“…Quickie?”
His grip on your waist gets even tighter, and his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. He lets out a low exhale, already moving a little closer.
“...Twenty seconds max.”
He whispers, and it sounds like a challenge. His words are hot against your mouth.
You chuckle softly, placing a soft kiss on his lips before speaking.
“You think we can finish in 20 seconds?”
He keeps his eyes focused on your lips. He can feel your breath on his own mouth.
“I’m fast.” He mumbles arrogantly, and his nose brushes against your cheek.
“…I’m not.” You say with a smile.
“You'll see.”
He finally closes the distance fully and kisses you deeply. He lets out a low sound when your mouth opens against his, and he slips his tongue inside, wasting no time. The kiss is messy, distracted and sloppy. Tongues are twisting, teeth are clashing, saliva is mixing.
His hand slides behind your neck to grip onto your hair as he kisses you. His other hand moves up to the hem your skirt, tugging it down slightly.
“Lift up for me”.
You place both hands beside your legs on the desk and push your hips up so he can slide your skirt down your legs. He blindly throws your skirt somewhere on the floor.
His hands go back to your inner thighs, his fingers trailing up to run over the fabric of your panties slowly.
He pulls your panties aside and starts moving his fingers over your clit for a while, before sliding two fingers inside.
He curls his fingers inside you just right. Your lips are still on his. Not much kissing, mostly just panting against his mouth.
He wants to hear you, though. He wants you to moan his name. So he picks up the pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you faster.
Your eyebrows furrow and you throw your head back out of pleasure.
“Ah f—” you pant.
"What was that?" He asks arrogantly, moving his lips to your neck. "C'mon let me hear you, baby."
His fingers are fast, sliding out of you to start working on your clit, then back inside again. He knows how to please you.
“Mmh fuck—” you moan.
Hearing your satisfied sounds makes him smile into your neck.
“Yeah? ‘S that good baby?”
“Y-yeah… fuck—” You moan out.
He slides two fingers back in to start pumping your insides and uses his thumb to rub your clit at the same time.
Your moans come faster and faster as you almost reach your climax.
“Shhit— Riki… i’m gonna come—”
He looks down at his own fingers creating a mess down there and he can’t help but smile.
“Yeahhh. Thaaat’s it, baby.”
Riki can’t take it anymore. He’s twitching and leaking in his pants at this point.
He lets you go and his hands work fast to undo his belt. Once he gets his pants off he quickly moves your underwear to the side again and presses the tip of his dick against your entrance and pushes into you. He groans loudly at the feeling of being inside you.
He moans into your neck, then he parts from it to get some air. He pushes his hips forward, his hands moving your thighs apart more so he can get in you more.
His hands move back to your waist and hold you up as he started to bounce you up and down on his dick.
He moans louder by your ear.
“Ahh— f-fuck.”
He shifts the angle slightly, hitting a spot inside you that makes you cry out. You place both your hands on his shoulders, keeping yourself steady. You can’t really form any words, it’s all just Riki. Riki. Riki. And some slurred curse words.
His hips stutter, he’s too deep into it to focus on holding and bouncing you on top of him right. So he puts you back on the edge the desk, spreads your legs and starts pushing his hips into yours.
He groans as he pressed his forehead onto yours.
“Shittt”
Ring.
The phone on his desk starts ringing. Nobody cares. You keep going.
Still grinding his hips into you while his lips find yours again.
The phone eventually stops.
Until it starts again.
Ring.
This time it snaps Niki out of his little pleasure bubble for a moment, he groans against your neck, stopping his movements.
“God damn it...”
You throw your head back and groan in annoyance.
Riki exhales loudly through his nose.
“Don’t move.”
He leans over and reaches for his phone, swiping to answer the call.
He clears his throat. "What do you want Kenji? I’m kind of busy right now."
He tries to catch his breath and gather himself as best as he can. His hand on your waist, squeezing it as a warning for you to keep still.
You try to listen to the little voice speaking through the phone. It sounds stressed.
“I know. Yes— I know Kenji. Give me two minutes.”
Riki says with a very annoyed tone before hanging up the phone and throwing it back on his desk.
“What is it—” you try to ask.
But before you could finish your sentence Riki was already kissing you again, clearly trying to finish what he started.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He says between kisses and pants. “Need to finish this first.”
His hands move to your ass, squeezing it as he starts thrusting up into you quicker, trying to finish faster. Then he moves his lips to your neck, biting and sucking on your skin while his hands slide up your shirt, squeezing at the soft flesh of your waist.
“Mm fuck— i‘m close, baby.” Riki moans into your neck.
He guides you down so you’re laying flat on his desk, legs in the air, wrapped around his waist. His body hovers over you as he kept thrusting. One hand braced on the desk beside your head while the other goes back to playing with your clit.
“F— fuck! Ri— Riki!”
Your second orgasm crashes over you, enough to make you moan a little too loud for the room you’re in right now. Your eyes roll back and your legs start shaking.
He feels your body shake under his as you come, the sight and sound of it pushes him over the edge. His hips start moving faster and harder on instinct, he comes inside you with a low, raspy groan.
“Ah s— shit.”
He lets his upper body fall on top of yours. You both catch your breath for a second. He breaths heavily, his face buried in your neck.
By the time you both pull yourselves together, he’s already too late.
Riki is standing near the side of his desk, fastening his belt with one hand while the other smooths down the front of his shirt. His hair is slightly messy, a few strands still out of place from your fingers being in it moments ago.
He notices in the reflection of the dark window and drags a hand through it quickly.
“Shit.”
You’re fixing yourself too, adjusting your skirt and straightening your top, checking your makeup in the black screen of your phone.
“You look fine,” you tell him casually.
“I know,” he mutters. “Still late.”
You smile a little.
He grabs his watch from the desk, sliding it back on, then reaches for his rings and slips them on one by one.
He looks like nothing happened. You, on the other hand, still feel a little warm of pleasure.
He notices you staring and walks over, tugging lightly at your sleeve.
“I have to go.”
“When are you done?” you ask.
He opens the office door halfway, already halfway into business mode again.
“Late.”
“How late?”
He glances back at you.
“Late late,” he says dryly. “We’ve got too much shit to discuss for tonight.”
You pout immediately.
“That long?”
“Yes.”
He leans in and kisses you once by the doorway, his hand sliding down to your butt to give it a nice squeeze.
“Get Kenji to drive you home.”
Your eyes roll instantly.
“I don’t wanna go home.”
He exhales through his nose, already expecting this.
“There’s nothing to do there,” you continue, following him out into the hallway. “I’ll be bored.”
“You’ll survive.”
“No.”
You grab his sleeve lightly.
“I’m coming with you.”
He keeps walking.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Riki.”
He stops walking and turns to look at you. You blink at him innocently.
“You’re acting like a toddler.”
“But am I coming?”
Then he sighs. “Yeah. Come on.”
You grin immediately and slip beside him, he can never actually say not to you.
He resumes walking, one arm sliding around your waist automatically, pulling you close as the two of you move down the long corridor together.
Your heels click sharply against the floor beside his heavier footsteps. Employees step aside the second they see you too coming. Nobody says a word.
His hand rests possessively on your hip the entire walk. You like it that way.
At the end of the hall, two guards open a set of big, dark wooden double doors. Inside is a massive conference room, with a long black table, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and around twelve men already seated.
All expensive suits, watches worth more than houses, expressions that range from bored to dangerous. Cigar smoke hangs faintly in the air.
You recognize maybe half of the men. The others are new faces, there are always new faces. Some fix their posture slightly when Riki enters. Others don’t care to move.
But what catches his eye is the table.
Weapons laid out openly.
Loaded magazines.
Loose bullets.
Half-burned cigars in golden ashtrays.
Photos of men spread across the wood surface.
Brown envelopes stuffed thick.
Maps.
Notes.
They already started discussing.
Riki stops walking. The room changes instantly.
His expression goes cold. “What is this?” he asks.
Nobody answers immediately.
One of the younger men clears his throat. “You were late.”
Riki turns his head slowly toward him.
“I don’t care how fucking late I am,” he says, each word controlled and sharp. “You do not start without me.”
Then he glances back at you and his entire tone changes like he wasn’t just about to kill someone with a look.
“C’mon, baby,” he says casually, pulling a chair out beside the head of the table. “Sit down.”
Several men avoid reacting. A few exchange glances.
You smile to yourself and walk over, taking the seat beside him like it belongs to you.
At first the meeting is interesting. You sit back in your chair beside Riki, one leg crossed over the other, quietly watching the room work. Men speak in turns, passing folders down the table, pointing at photos, listing locations and names.
Riki barely looks at the papers. He already knows everything.
He listens with one hand resting near you, fingers occasionally tapping the armrest while someone talks too long.
For the first twenty minutes, you pay attention.
You catch some pieces.
Routes.
Payments.
Someone stealing from one of Riki’s clubs.
A man who needs to “disappear.” Another who needs to be made an example of.
Then more money.
Then guns.
Then territory.
Then money again.
An hour in it all blends together.
You stare at the expensive watch on one man’s wrist for a full minute just to stay entertained.
How these men can talk about this for hours, you’ll never understand.
You almost yawn.
Riki doesn’t miss one thing.
He’s sharp the whole time. Impatient when someone wastes his time.
Twice now he’s slammed his fist against the table hard enough to make envelopes jump.
“Then listen when I’m talking.”
The room goes dead silent immediately.
Then not even two seconds later, he glances sideways at you.
“You okay, baby?”
The shift is absurd.
“I’m fine.”
“You want a drink?”
“No.”
He nods once and turns back to the room like nothing happened.
“Continue.”
Every time things start getting heated, you calm him without speaking.
Your hand settling on his thigh under the table.
Your fingers brushing over the back of his hand.
Sometimes lifting your arm up for a moment to lightly squeeze tension from his shoulder. It always works.
Even these dangerous men have noticed by now.
They glance at you sometimes like they can’t figure out how you do it.
Right now, another argument is building.
Two men are talking over each other about tonight’s confrontation. One wants extra men posted outside. Another says it’ll attract attention and cops.
Riki leans forward slowly and his eyes shift to someone further down the table.
A younger face.
New.
You noticed him earlier because he looked different from the others, face tattoos diamond earrings, gold teeth, trying hard to look tougher than he felt.
Riki points once.
“You.”
The room quiets.
The young man straightens immediately.
“What’s your name?”
“Kaito, sir.”
Riki studies him for a second.
Then reaches across the table, grabbing one of the pistols laid out there.
He slides it across the polished surface.
It stops right in front of the young man.
“Do you know how to use it?”
Kaito looks at the gun.
Then at Riki.
His throat moves.
“Yes, sir.”
You glance at Riki.
You know that look on his face. He already knows the answer is no.
Riki gives a single nod.
“Alright.”
He taps two fingers against the table.
“Show me how to load it.”
Every eye lands on the younger man.
He reaches for the gun too quickly, trying to look confident, but the second it’s in his hands it’s obvious he has no idea what he’s doing. He turns it awkwardly, presses at the magazine release twice before finding it, then fumbles with it like he’s never touched a gun before.
The young man reaches for a handful of bullets on the table.
Wrong bullets.
Riki leans back slowly in his chair.
“So you don’t know.”
His voice is dangerously low.
The young man starts stammering. “I—I do, sir, I just—”
“Shut up.”
Riki stands abruptly, palms flat on the table.
“Who brought this little kid here?”
No one answers.
His eyes flick across the room.
“I asked a fucking question.”
Still silence.
The younger man stares at you like you might save him.
Riki laughs once, humorless.
“Why are you here if you don’t know how to use it?”
No answer.
“Why did you lie? You thought you could just lie to me?”
Nothing.
Riki steps around his chair now, voice rising with every word.
“You look like some big fucking gangster with all that shit on your face and your teeth, but you can’t even load a pistol?”
“Unbelievable.”
Riki points toward the door.
“And since nobody wants to tell me who dragged you in here, get the fuck out.”
The kid stands so fast his chair scrapes loudly against the floor.
You can see the humiliation on his face. He’s young. Scared and trying too hard.
And Riki is stressed enough tonight to tear anyone apart, he drops back down into his chair.
Before the boy can move, your hand slides to the back of Riki’s neck.
Your fingers slip into his hair, scratching lightly.
You look past him to the young man.
“Sit back down,” you say calmly. “It’s okay. You can stay.”
The room watches in stunned silence.
The boy hesitates, then nods quickly and lowers himself back into the chair.
Riki slowly turns his head toward you.
He sighs, leaning closer.
“Baby…” he barely whispers. “What—”
“It’s okay,” you say, still scratching his scalp gently. “He’s young.”
Riki bends down and leans himself into you without shame, arms wrapping around your waist while his face presses into the side of your neck.
The most feared man in the room suddenly clinging to you like he’s exhausted.
He whispers against your skin.
“I’m so tired of these people.”
You smile faintly.
“I know.”
“They’re useless.”
“I know.”
“No one listens.”
“They do. You’re just strict.”
He huffs softly against your throat.
You smooth a hand through his hair.
“You’re doing fine.”
He kisses your neck once.
Then again. Then lifts his head just enough to kiss your lips, slow and careless, like the room full of armed men doesn’t exist.
When he finally straightens, half the table is very obviously pretending to study papers.
“Mind your business, men.”
Everyone immediately looks elsewhere.
He wipes a hand over his face, then points at the younger man again.
“This might be life or death for you tonight. So you better figure out how to use it before we leave.”
He taps the table once.
“Or you’re out.”
Another tap.
“No money.”
Another.
“Back to the streets.”
The young man nods quickly.
Riki narrows his eyes.
“You understand, Kaito?”
The boy swallows hard.
“Yes, sir.”
Riki leans back again, one arm draping behind your chair.
“Good.”
Then he looks at another man down the table.
“Now continue. And try not to waste my time again.”
--
Riki’s headquarters is far bigger than most people would expect. Twelve floors of offices, vault rooms, meeting spaces and hidden doors to drug labs.
You practically live here too, which is why you have your own room.
Not officially, of course. Officially, it’s still listed as an office.
But the moment Riki married you, one of his longtime members was told to pack his things and share space with another man by the end of the day.
No discussion. Your husband wanted you to have your own place in the building, and that’s it.
Now the room looks nothing like an office. It has a massive soft cream couch. A vanity. Fresh flowers that get replaced every week. A giant desk you’ve never once worked at. A TV. Trays filled with jewelry and perfumes Riki got you.
Your own safe. Your own keycode.
Everyone calls it your office anyway.
By the time night settles over the city, the atmosphere in the building feels different.
Outside your room, nobody is as chill as you currently are.
Men loading magazines with bullets in practiced silence.
Others wrapping their knuckles with tape, testing their fists against their palms.
Some are portioning little bags of drugs and weed at a side table, counting stacks and sealing them quickly.
Others still stand over maps and papers, arguing routes and positions.
A few useless ones wander around carrying random folders or talking into dead phones whenever Riki walks by, pretending to be productive.
Outside in the underground loading area, two large black cars stand there with engines running.
Their trunks are open.
Duffel bags are being loaded in. Weapons cases. Cash.
Everyone who’s coming is nearly ready.
And Riki is standing beside the first car, checking the time already irritated.
Then he glances around. You’re not there.
His eyes narrow.
“Kenji.”
His assistant appears instantly.
“Yes?”
“Where is y/n?”
Kenji looks around once, already nervous.
“I… don’t know, boss.”
Riki slowly turns his head.
“You don’t know.”
Kenji swallows.
“I thought she was with the women upstairs, or maybe in her office—”
Riki steps closer.
“What exactly are you useful for?”
Kenji lowers his gaze.
“Sorry, boss.”
Riki scoffs, furious now because they should already be leaving.
He yanks open the rear car door, slams it shut in anger, then turns toward the building.
“Wait.”
He walks inside himself. Straight to the private elevator.
The ride to the ninth floor is silent except for his impatient tapping against the floor.
The doors open he steps out and walks down the corridor toward your “office,” muttering under his breath about how nobody in this building can do anything right.
Then he reaches your door.
The door suddenly flies open hard enough to hit the stopper.
“Y/n.”
You’re stretched out on the long white couch in your office, lying flat on your back with one arm over your stomach, staring at the ceiling and trying not to fall asleep. Regretting every decision that led to you staying.
Your black leather high-heel boots are kicked off near the side of the couch. One leg hangs lazily over the edge.
You’ve been waiting for hours.
You jolt upright.
He stands in the doorway in his black coat, not looking too happy, one hand lifting his wrist to tap the face of his watch.
You blink at him once.
“Oh.”
Then you’re up immediately, scrambling off the couch and hurrying toward him in quick little steps, trying to balance while grabbing one boot, then the other.
He watches you with visible annoyance, but there’s something amused in his eyes too.
You hop once, forcing your foot into a boot. Then the other and rush right up to him.
“I’m ready.”
You’re almost through the doorway when his arm lifts suddenly, palm bracing against the frame in front of you and blocking your path.
He gives you a look.
“You’re forgetting something.”
You turn around.
Your eyes land on the desk.
Your gun lies there neatly beside the open half-empty heart shaped box of luxury chocolates he bought you last week.
“Oh.” You say.
You hurry back, grab the pistol, check if it’s loaded, then slide it carefully into the garter strapped high against your thigh on top of your jeans.
Riki nods once. “Now you’re ready.”
You walk back to him and he lets you pass.
The two of you head for the elevator together.
Inside Riki leans against the metal bar on the back wall, dragging one hand over his face before rubbing at his forehead still irritated.
You know that look.
He hates mistakes, when anything moves outside the plan he built in his head.
You glance up at him, then tilt your head slightly with a small smile, lashes fluttering.
“Sorry.” You say softly.
He looks at you and he sighs. “It’s not your fault, baby.”
You smile wider.
“Kenji should’ve done what he’s hired for,” he continues. “Get you downstairs on time.”
You bite back a laugh. Nothing is ever your fault in his eyes.
The elevator dings.
He reaches for your hand automatically, threading his fingers through yours as you both step out and head through the lobby toward the front entrance.
The giant glass doors are already opened by the time you reach them.
Cold night air sweeps in.
Kenji is waiting outside, holding your black fur coat carefully over his arms like it’s worth more than him. Which, to him, it probably is.
He steps forward quickly.
“Your coat ma’am.”
You let him place it over your shoulders.
Riki doesn’t even look at him. You hide another smile.
Then the two of you walk toward the waiting black car.
A guard opens the back door.
Riki gets in first, then holds a hand out for you.
You take it and slide inside beside him.
The door shuts.
Inside it smells like leather, cigar smoke, and his cologne.
Riki leans forward and taps the drives shoulder twice. “Let’s go.”
The car pulls away, the second car following it, city lights sliding across the tinted windows.
Riki leans back into the seat, one arm stretched along the backrest behind you, the other resting on his thigh. His expression is still tight, mind clearly already at Kaizen Ito’s garage.
You turn slightly toward him, pulling your coat closer around you.
“Why are we with so many tonight?”
He glances at you briefly, then back ahead.
“Because Ito isn’t some random junk. He runs his own operation,” Riki continues. “Smaller than ours, but it’s one of the bigger ones.”
“So he has people?”
“He has a lot of people.”
You nod slowly.
“If we walk into his place,” he adds, “He won’t surrender. His men will show up in no time. We’re not taking risks with that.”
You hum softly.
“That’s why everyone’s coming.”
“Yeah.”
You look out the window for a second, then back at him.
“Why are you so mad at him though?”
Riki scoffs under his breath.
“He borrowed a large amount,” he says, shaking his head, getting reheated over the situation. “Real fucking money.”
“For what?”
“Expansion.”
You tilt your head.
“He wanted to grow fast. More territory, more product, more connections. Came to me asking for back up.”
“And you gave it to him?”
“I did.”
“And now?”
“He used it,” Riki says flatly. “Built himself up, got real comfortable… and then decided he didn’t feel like paying it back.”
You wince slightly.
“Oh.”
“He thinks because he’s a ‘leader’ now, he can negotiate with me.”
“I asked politely once, then had somebody threaten him. Still no money.” He scoffs. “Fuck around and find out.”
The way he says it makes it very clear how that’s going to go.
You stay quiet for a second.
“…what about his daughters?”
Riki’s jaw tightens slightly.
“What about them?”
“How old are they?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
You frown a little.
“Have they seen you before?”
“No.”
“Do you know who the mother is?”
“No.”
“Do they know what their dad does?”
Riki exhales, already getting impatient. “No. I don’t care.”
You blink at him.
“And it doesn’t matter.”
You look at him for a moment longer, then shift a little closer.
“It matters to me.”
He doesn’t respond.
You reach over, lightly touching his sleeve.
“Riki.”
He glances down at your hand, then at you.
“What.”
“Promise me something.”
He already doesn’t like where this is going.
“Depends.”
“Promise me you won’t kill him.”
Silence. His eyes flick back to the road ahead.
He doesn’t answer. You feel his hesitation immediately.
Your expression changes.
“Riki.”
He exhales slowly. “Don’t start.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
You sit up straighter now, your tone sharper.
“They have kids.”
And he made his choices.”
“And you can make yours.”
He looks at you again. You don’t back down.
“Promise me.”
He studies your face for a second.
You’re not asking, you’re telling him.
You almost snap.
“Riki—”
“Alright.”
He cuts you off quickly, voice firm.
“I promise.”
You hold his gaze for another second, making sure.
“…you’re not just saying that?”
“No, I said I promise.”
Then you lean back slightly, tension easing from your shoulders.
“Okay.”
Riki looks away again, sighing.
Because promises like that don’t always fit into plans like his.
The cars roll to a slow stop in front of the garage.
It’s bigger than you expected.
Not just a place to fix cars, that’s just the cover up for the trap house that it actually is, this is a full operation. Wide metal doors, security cameras angled at every corner, dim industrial lights buzzing overhead.
Engines shut off one by one.
Doors open and veryone steps out at the same time, like it’s rehearsed.
Men reach into the trunks, grabbing weapons, sliding pistols into waistbands, adjusting jackets to hide everything cleanly. The air feels heavier out here, colder, sharper.
You step out beside Riki, pulling your coat tighter around you as your heels hit the concrete.
Kenji moves quickly behind him, handing things off, checking positions.
Then Riki walks up to the large metal door.
There’s a small panel beside it.
He presses the doorbell. The sound echoes faintly inside.
You wait.
And wait.
Too long.
Riki’s jaw tightens.
“Where the fuck is he” he mutters under his breath.
Another second passes.
Then a small high-pitched voice crackles through the speaker.
“Hello?”
A child.
You blink.
Riki exhales sharply, already irritated, of course.
You step forward slightly before he can say anything.
“Hi, honey,” you say gently, voice completely different from the tension around you. “Can you open the door for us?”
Behind you, Riki turns his head toward Kenji, already annoyed.
“Why is a kid answering the door?” he mutters. “What kind of idiot lets that happen?”
Kenji stays quiet.
“Especially when you’re involved in this kind of shit,” Riki continues under his breath. “You don’t know who’s out there.”
Through the speaker, the girl answers again.
“I can’t reach the button.”
Your expression softens.
“That’s okay,” you say kindly. “Is there an adult nearby who can help you?”
“I’ll go get one.”
You step back slightly.
Riki crosses his arms, tapping his foot once against the ground, patience already gone.
A few seconds pass.
Then the speaker clicks again.
A different voice this time. Kaizen.
“What do you want?”
Riki steps forward immediately, reclaiming the space.
“I want to have a word with you.”
A quiet scoff comes from the speaker.
“Now?”
Riki’s eyes narrow.
“Yes. Now.”
Kaizen lets out a short laugh.
“You don’t just show up at my place like that—”
Riki cuts him off.
“Open the door.”
Silence, like he’s thinking about it.
“Or what?”
The air shifts.
You feel it instantly.
Riki tilts his head slightly, voice dropping.
“Or we shoot it open.”
“But I think you’d rather not make me do that,” he continues calmly. “I know how much this place cost.”
His gaze drags slowly over the building.
“My money, remember?”
No response.
Riki glances at the panel once more. Then leans in slightly.
“I’m giving you five seconds, Kaizen.”
He straightens and steps back.
Grabs your arm gently and pulls you a few steps to the side with him.
Behind you, his men move instantly. Guns are drawn. Aimed straight at the locks, hinges and weak points.
Riki doesn’t look at them.
He just starts counting.
“One.”
Nothing.
“Two.”
Still silence.
“Three.”
You hear someone inside mumble something.
“Four.”
Then—
A loud click.
The lock opens and the massive garage door begins to roll up slowly.
Riki doesn’t react.
Just watches it open exactly like he expected.
The garage door isn’t even halfway up before they move.
Two of Riki’s men duck under it first, fast and low, guns already raised. Kenji follows right behind them, scanning left, right, corners.
Three more slide in just after, but they stop near the entrance, half-turned outward, watching the street, waiting for anything that could mean Kaizen’s men are on their way.
Kaizen Ito stands in the middle of the garage, gun already in his hands, stance tense but trying to look controlled.
“Don’t come any closer,” he warns.
Riki doesn’t rush.
He steps inside slowly, like he owns the place, because he sort of does.
You walk in right beside him, matching his pace. Heel in front of heel, steady and confident. There’s a faint smirk on your lips as you chew your gum, completely unbothered by the guns pointed around you.
Kaizen’s eyes flick to you.
Then back to Riki.
“You brought your fucking wife?”
His tone turns mocking.
“Involving her in this?”
Kaizen scoffs, tightening his grip on his gun.
“You’re dumber than I thought,” he continues. “You know I can kill her easily, right?”
That’s when Riki stops walking.
“If you even think about pointing a gun at her,” Riki says quietly, “I’ll make sure you die a slow and very, very painful death.”
You keep chewing your gum.
Riki looks around the garage like he’s bored now.
Then nods slightly toward the side.
“Can you go get that chair for me.”
You follow his gaze, spot an old metal chair near a workbench, and walk over without a word. It scrapes lightly against the concrete as you drag it back, placing it directly behind Kaizen.
Riki gestures lazily.
“Sit.”
Kaizen hesitates.
His eyes flick behind riki toward the entrance.
Still no sign of his men.
Riki notices. “You can stand,” he says. “But it’s not going to help you.”
Then Kaizen slowly lowers himself into the chair.
“Place the gun down and kick it to me.” Riki says. Kaizen does.
You step behind Kaizen immediately.
You grab his arms and pull them back, tying them tight against the backrest with ease. He tenses under your hands, but doesn’t fight.
He knows better.
Riki crouches down in front of him, lowering himself onto one knee so they’re eye level.
“Where are your daughters?”
Kaizen’s entire body stiffens.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Kaizen shakes his head quickly.
“Why do you—”
“Where are they?”
Panic starts creeping into his expression now.
“Do not hurt my daugh—”
Riki lifts a hand slightly.
“Shh.”
The sound is soft but it shuts him up instantly.
“They’re not part of this,” Riki continues, voice quiet. “Which is why I need to know where they are.”
Kaizen laughs nervously.
“You expect me to just tell you that?”
Riki tilts his head. “My wife is going to sit with them,” he says simply. “Keep them safe.”
Kaizen doesn’t believe him. He shakes his head again.
“No. No, I’m not telling you anything.”
Riki exhales slowly.
Looks down for a second.
Then back up.
“Then I guess we’ll have to find them ourselves.”
Kaizen’s breathing picks up.
“And if we do,” Riki adds calmly, “I might have to hurt one of them just to make a point.”
“Riki.” Your voice cuts through the room instantly.
He hears it.
He glances back at you.
You’re already moving, stepping around the chair until you’re standing in front of Kaizen now.
Your expression is dangerous.
You tilt your head slightly, meeting Kaizen’s eyes.
“Nobody’s going to hurt your daughters,” you say. “Just tell me where they are.”
Kaizen hesitates.
Looks between you and Riki.
He knows he’s outnumbered right now. He knows he’s losing.
“…back room,” he finally mutters. “Through that door.”
He nods toward a hallway to the left.
“Second door.”
You hold his gaze for another second.
Then nod once.
Behind you, Riki reaches out and pats Kaizen’s cheek twice.
Not hard, but not friendly either.
“Good.”
You turn without another word and start walking toward the hallway, your heels echoing softly against the concrete as you head for the room where his daughters are waiting.
You stop in front of the door and listen, muffled voices.
You knock gently. Then you open the door slowly and step inside.
The room is dim, lit by a warm orange glow from a small lamp in the corner. It’s completely different from the cold garage outside.
A small TV sits on a low table, playing Barbie Princess Charm School.
On the carpet in front of it, two little girls sit cross-legged, surrounded by My Little Pony dolls. Each of them has a small bowl beside them with candies, marshmallows. And a mug of hot chocolate resting carefully near their knees.
Everything about it is… set up.
Like someone tried their best to keep them entertained, distracted and safe.
Your chest tightens slightly at the sight.
The girls both look up with big eyes when you enter.
“Hi,” you say gently, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind you. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
They keep staring.
You give them a small smile.
“My name is Y/N. I was just at the door. I’m just going to sit with you for a bit, okay?”
They glance at each other, then back at you.
“…okay.”
You carefully lower yourself onto the carpet with them.
You try to guess their ages, one maybe around five. The other a little older. You lean your elbows lightly on your knees, looking at their setup.
“What are you guys watching?”
“Barbie,” the younger one answers quickly.
You nod like that’s the most important thing in the world.
“Which one?”
She tells you the title perfectly.
You pretend to think about it. “I think that one’s my favorite.”
Her face lights up.
The older one eyes you more carefully, but she relaxes when you don’t ask anything strange.
You pick up one of the little pony dolls absentmindedly.
“And these?”
“My Little Ponies,” she says. “That one’s mine.”
You hand it back carefully.
“They’re cute.”
You gesture to the bowls.
“What are you eating?”
“Candy,” the younger one says again, like it’s obvious.
“And hot chocolate,” the other adds.
You nod approvingly.
“Good choice.”
You keep the conversation light. Asking about their ages. What their favorite barbie characters are. Which pony is the best.
They answer kindly, a little shy at first, then more open as the minutes pass.
You don’t give them a single reason to question why you’re here.
Then outside something crashes. Loud. The sound muffled through the walls. The older girl glances toward the door. Your eyes flick there too for half a second. Then back to them.
Another noise.
Shouting.
You clear your throat softly and reach for the remote without making it obvious. The volume on the TV goes up.
Barbie’s voice fills the room more loudly now.
“There,” you say lightly. “That’s better, right?”
The younger one nods, already turning her attention back to the screen.
The older one doesn’t fully relax.
You notice it when her attention drifts away from the TV, away from the dolls. Her eyes flick to the door, then back to you.
Observing everything. Smarter than she looks.
You keep your expression easy, reaching for one of the ponies again, but when you shift your leg slightly her gaze drops to your thigh.
To the gun strapped neatly against it.
Your stomach tightens for half a second.
You react instantly. Pulling your coat across your lap again, covering it completely.
You look back up like nothing happened.
But she saw it. You know she did.
And then—
“Why are you here?”
You meet her eyes, keeping your tone just as soft.
“Your dad and my husband have some work things to talk about.”
You tilt your head slightly, giving her a small smile.
“I’m just here to keep you company.”
Another noise echoes from outside.
The older girl flinches slightly.
“What’s that?” she asks.
You don’t even look toward the door.
“It’s probably about cars,” you say casually. “They’re in the garage, remember?”
You pick up a doll and begin to brush it’s hair.
“They’re always loud when they work on them.”
She watches you. Still not fully convinced. So you lean in just a little, your voice softer now.
“It’s boring stuff,” you add. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Everyone’s safe, okay?”
Her shoulders ease just a little.
“And I’m here with you,” you continue. “We’re just going to hang out and have fun.”
She finally nods. Just once. And turns her attention back to the TV. The tension fades slowly.
You play along with their little game, letting them hand you dolls, asking who’s who, pretending to follow their storyline. You laugh softly at the right moments, ask questions, keep it light.
They relax around you. The younger one starts talking more, giggling when you mix up the pony names on purpose.
At some point, you all settle back into watching the movie again.
Ken comes on screen. The younger one points immediately.
“He’s funny.”
You smile.
“He thinks he is.”
They both giggle.
Outside, another crash. You hear it but you don’t react.
Then the younger one turns to you again, curiosity back in her eyes.
“What’s your husband’s name?”
You look at her.
“Riki.”
She tilts her head.
“Is he funny and smart like my daddy?”
Your chest tightens slightly at that.
You keep your smile.
“He thinks he’s very funny, just like Ken,” you say lightly. “And he’s… smart in his own way.”
That seems to satisfy her.
“Do you have kids?”
You shake your head.
“No.”
She hums, thinking.
“When you have kids, they can be friends with us.”
Your fingers still for just a second.
“And our dads can be friends too, and you can be bff’s with our mom!” she adds brightly.
The innocence in her voice hits harder than anything else tonight.
For a moment, you can’t answer, because outside that door that’s the last thing that’s going to happen.
You swallow it down. Then you smile again. “I’m sure they’d like that.”
She grins, completely satisfied, already turning back to the movie.The older one glances at you once more like she knows enough.
You hold her gaze for a second. Then look back at the screen. Like nothing is wrong.
Even though you can still hear everything happening just on the other side of that door.
Back in the garage shouting overlaps with the sound of fists hitting bone, boots scraping concrete, metal tools clattering to the floor.
Bodies are everywhere. Half of them are already unconscious, some missing a few front teeth or a broken nose, groaning against the cold floor.
Two of Riki’s men have one of Kaizen’s guys pinned near a workbench, dragging him up by his collar just to slam him back down again.
“Where is it?!” one of them yells.
“I don’t— I don’t know—!” the man chokes, spitting blood.
A hard punch in his face cuts him off.
Another one follows immediately.
“You think we’re stupid?!” the other snaps, gripping his jaw to keep his head up. “We know you have the money. Where is it.”
Across the garage, another one of Kaizen’s men is struggling in a tight headlock, kicking weakly as Kenji tightens his grip.
“Stop fighting,” Kenji snaps at him. “You’re making it worse.”
Then—
A gunshot fires.
⊹
🗒️ vaeh’s note: It wasn't my intention to make it this long. I’ve written a whole movie by this point. Forgive me. Unfortunately, I had to split it into 2/3 parts due to Tumblr's fuckass word limit. !! I didn't proofread this bc it took me so so long to write, and then I got these Tumblr problems on top of that. A girl is tiredddd man. The other parts will be posted 🔜
Aren't these people fucking EMBARRASSED, just FINALLY STOP.. I had to turn off the comments, his birthday live comments were so bad that he had to call you out!
🐈⬛: Some of you guys don't care about what the situation's going on, like, right? Some of you just keep saying, "6 or 7. ENHYPEN is what? ENHYPEN is what?" I'm okay, I actually don't care (about the comments). ENHYPEN is ENHYPEN… I always try to ignore that, so I’m okay, but don't do that to other members' birthdays. I'm okay, but please don't do that to others, okay? What if other members would feel depressed in this situation? I'm really scared of that, so hopefully, I don't want that happening in the future…
Now two members addressed the spamming, can y'all fucking stop already. I'm glad Jay has always been straightforward.. I love him for that
If you can’t respect them and take that they are six now then please finally leave the fandom instead of disrespecting them all the fucking time.. Either accept Enhypen as it is now, or leave.. ENHYPEN is ENHYPEN, how it is now. He is protecting his members and maybe some people should finally read the room..
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