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Title: Being in Bed with You

Pairing: Haitani Rindou/Female Reader

Summary: This mini-story spin-off takes place in the middle of WTALOT with Hanma. It follows Rin and his Chairwoman who’s in charge of his business and books. She’s also his favorite fuck buddy.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: NOT BETA’D - Light blood, torture, weaponry (gun mention), description of sex, particularly face fucking. Reader is very feminine presenting; skirts, blouses, designer heels, hair in updos for work… this is fairly self-indulgent. Tried to keep appearance as vague as I felt was appropriate.

A/N: I still stand by Rindou not having romantic feelings for Hanma’s girl, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t jealousy of the feelings she has for Hanma along with her unwavering loyalty.

Part One (here) / Master Post

“So, are you in love with ‘er?”

Rindou turns to you slowly, cigarette smoke drifting in wisps around the edges of his face. He’s watching you pull up your stocking before attaching the lacy top to the strap of your garter belt. His eyes meet your smiling ones.

“With whom?”

“Hanma’s girl.” You smooth your hands over your lilac silk blouse and black pencil skirt. “She’s a real lively one. Keeps ya on your toes, doesn’t she?”

“She’s somethin’,” Rin chuckles and takes another drag. “Yeah, she’s got a smart ass mouth, and she’s quick with a gun.”

“Oh,” you purr, “sexy.”

He doesn’t agree or disagree, instead he watches as you grab your bag and haphazardly discarded stilettos, hooking them with your fingers.

“You only call me when you’ve seen her.” You’re scrolling through your phone, checking calendar updates here and there. “Always a little meaner than usual.” He tilts his head, seeing you shoot off a text to someone. “Is it because you know I can take it?”

He remembers your hair held tightly in his fists only hours before and wonders how you could tame it after the craze.

“Leaving?” You turn to him, makeup done a little less extravagant than it was when you came over. In bed, it was smudged, your cheeks muddy with ruined mascara and eyeliner. “It isn’t like you have anything pressing to get to.”

Even though your eyebrow arches, aware of his deflection, you let it go.

“Some of us have corporate jobs and commitments to tend to.”

“Your boss must work you hard,” he grins.

“Ah, well,” a sultry little smirk graces your lips, “my boss works me hard in many ways.”

Rindou finishes his cigarette and tosses it in a nearby, half-empty glass of water on the nightstand. He stands, hair a mess compared to yours, and only in a pair of comfortable sweatpants.

“Your boss is a bastard.”

You click your tongue in disagreement. “I like him alright. Someone has to maintain the business front when the police come knockin’.”

His upper lip tugs up in a light grimace. “Fuckin’ pigs.”

“My sentiments exactly.” You chuckle and shrug. “Yet they always seem to stumble on their words around me. I must be intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” Rindou smirks and comes to stand right in front of you, hand coming to wrap around your jaw loosely. “He hired you just for this face, didn’t he?”

“Hm, dunno. Look in a mirror and ask him yourself.”

With a snort and a small chuff under your chin, he lets you go, arms stretching above his head. “I’ve got shit t’ do, too. Ran’s got an agenda, so does Mikey. I’ll be unreachable for a bit.” Rin picks his watch up off the nightstand, checking the time. “Call someone if there’s anything urgent. Shit might pick up here soon.”

“Hm, Takeomi mentioned something to me about a lead.”

Rindou nods. “We think we found the King Cobra amongst the smaller snakes. I’ve been skeptical about someone specific being involved for a while now.”

A small shiver runs down your spine. “I hate snakes. Nasty, slimy things. It makes it worse that these are slimy people.” Your phone pings twice and your brow furrows at the notification. With a sigh, you look back up at Rindou. “I have to get going. Hajime wants to talk numbers and accounts.”

Behind sealed lips, Rindou runs his tongue across his teeth. Something about you using everyone’s given name always rubbed him the wrong way. Hajime, Takeomi, Kanji, you even spoke to Ran casually, but—

“Alright, Mr. Haitani,” you say with a finality, even bowing slightly. “I’m leaving. Have a great day. Please ‌call if you need something from me.” You glance at the bed and smirk. “Especially if it’s for what we did earlier.”

That. Unless you’re under him, the formality shows up. To you, he is always ‘Mr. Haitani.’

Rindou doesn’t say goodbye, he simply watches you leave, heels still hooked on your fingers. The sway of your hips has never not been mesmerizing. He’s fucked a lot of women and paid a lot of prostitutes, using them all ‌to get off and distract himself from the incessant buzz of his life for a bit. There’s something about your sweet moans, the garbled sound of you choking on his cock, one fist in your hair and the other clamped around your throat… something that sends him to a different place. Maybe it’s because you give just as good as you get; fucking yourself on his face, your fingers digging into the roots of his hair, or nestling yourself between his thighs and swallowing down his dick until he can’t see straight.

On a deep inhale, Rindou silently thanks whatever god there is for the distracting, mind numbing power of your body and pussy.

Kokonoi is waiting for you in your office before you get there. You check your watch, noting that he’s half an hour early.

“Hajime,” you address, heels clicking across the tiled floor. “You’re earlier than expected.” He turns to you, a vision in his ruby red attire and elegantly laid jewelry. “Is this an urgent meeting?”

He sweeps his hair over his shoulder and slides a manila folder under his arm. “Interview with the Vampire?”

You raise your eyebrow. “What?”

Koko presses his thumb just below your collarbone. “You’ve got a nasty hickey coming up here.”

You brush your blouse to the side slightly and look down to see the blossoming of popped blood vessels under your skin.

“He always does this,” you sigh, shaking your head as you walk around to your desk chair. “Whatever,” with a small smile on your face, you hold out your hand to Hajime and wiggle your fingers slowly. “What do you have for me today?”

Kokonoi pulls up a chair across from you and lays the folder into your hand as he sits back, elegantly with his legs crossed and his hair falling across his shoulders and chest.

“These are our cash flow statements.”

“Broken down?” You glance at him briefly as you flip open the folder, then look down at the multitude of numbers with a tiny gasp. “It is. How sexy of you, Haji.” You flip through the cash flow statements broken down into operating, investing, and financing activities, not at all seeing an issue. “Alright, Koko, I’m not seeing a problem here. What’s up?”

He takes a long pull from his cigarette stick. “Look at the last page, little fox.”

You flip to the very back to find the profit-and-loss statement, summarizing all the income and expenses in the last few months.

“Failure to make profit,” you mutter, brow now pinched. “How are we barely breaking even?”

“There’s someone fucking around with the books.”

Your eyes flicker up to him. “You think someone’s funneling our money to an offshore account?” Koko frowns as he nods. “There isn’t a single fuckin’ person ballsy enough t’ do that here, Hajime.”

“Nothin’ gets by you, I know, but the numbers don’t lie. We don’t pay fucking taxes or interest payments, yet our—“

“We pay taxes.”

“Wh-” Kokonoi nearly chokes on an inhale. He’s incredulous. “What?”

“We pay taxes, but nothing insane enough to put a dent in our net profits.”

“Why the fuck are we paying taxes?”

“Because I have to keep the cops off my tits, Kokonoi. I’m here all the fuckin’ time dealing with these people coming in here like they’re gonna find something on us.”

You slam the folder shut on your desk and stand. “They’re not gonna find shit.”

“You’re really pretty when you’re mad.” His eyes narrow and a sharp, mischievous grin appears on his face. “Rin ever take you over this desk?”

“No,” you sigh, standing up straight and pulling your shoulders back. “But I’ve taken him.”

With a wink, you gather the expense report in the folder and begin walking past him, out of your office.

“Where are you going?”

When you look at him over your shoulder, the sun's beams from the floor to ceiling windows make his hair and jewelry glisten. Kokonoi has always been a cunning and mysterious beauty. His presence, amongst a myriad of grimy men, is a breath of clean, citrus air.

“I have to talk to a man about someone fuckin’ with my money. You wanna come?”

“‘Course I do,” he stands, stretching his arms above his head. The fabric of his outfit lifts, exposing the smooth skin of his stomach and the metal of his belly button piercing. “It’s been a minute since I got to threaten someone with bodily harm.”

You chuckle as he follows you out. “It’s because you all go in guns blazing. A little talkin’ relaxes people.” Kokonoi falls in step next to you and watches you out of the corner of his eye, listening. “When they’re all relaxed, they ‌think they’re safe with you.”

“Or,” he exhales, leaning down to speak quietly, “they think you’re weak.”

“Oh, of course they do!” You laugh and your eyes give way to this… look Rin said caught his attention once upon a time. “That’s the best part. Making them believe I’m a delicate little kit.” Your eyes meet his and there’s something alluring, something… “Right before I tear them apart with my teeth.” Sadistic.

The sounds of your heels clicking against the floors is louder than earlier. It’s something that echoes sharply in his ears with every heavy step; a precursor to inevitable doom. Kokonoi wonders what it would be like to be haunted by that sound.

Rindou sees you two days later, hair pulled up and out of your face except for the occasional baby hair and flyaway. There’s blood spatter on your neck and cheek, some is speckled on your blouse. You’ve never gotten your hands dirty for the job, so when he sees you like that, part of him panics. Whatever conversation Kakucho was trying to have with him has hit a brick wall.

“Are you listening to me, Haitani?” He snaps his fingers in Rin’s face, but his eyes are following your stride to your office. “Ya know, you don’t even try to hide how bad you’ve got it?”

That gets his attention. “Shut up,” he snaps, head whipping to look at his companion. “I don’t have anything bad.”

“The hell you don’t.” Kakucho rolls his eyes and tilts his chin up to the closed door of your office. “I know you’re worried about if it’s her blood or not. Check it out and then get your ass out to the car. We have to go see Mikey.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Rindou waves him off and heads straight to your office. He doesn’t even knock. It’s his building. Why should he have to? Except when he opens the door, you’ve got your blouse laid out across your desk, an open bottle of water has been used to remove the droplets of blood on the material, and you’re sitting in your desk chair holding a small mirror up to your face.

“Knocking is a thing.”

“Not to me.” He’s looking you over, eyes scouring across your face, breasts, and arms. There aren’t any injuries he can currently see. “You didn’t even lock the door.”

In your hand there is a napkin, lightly damp to help get the blood off of your skin. Anyone could have walked in to see you like this—an office full of men? How naïve were you?

“Most people in this office aren’t dumb enough to step into my office when the door is closed.”

He grins, quirking an eyebrow at you as he rounds your desk. Your black knife leather Balenciaga pumps are resting next to the office chair and your legs are kicked out, ankles crossed.

Rindou squats down in front of you, dexterous fingers digging into your calves for relief. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

You set aside the compact mirror and damp napkin to look at him. His suit lacks the pastels you’re so used to. This time, he’s in a pinstriped gray suit with a baby blue tie. It reminds you of the blonde and blue he used to sport in his hair when he was younger.

“Hajime got a bit trigger-happy—literally and figuratively.” Rindou’s amiable smile falls into a frown as his brow furrows. “Someone’s messing with the books, funneling money to a bank in America. The blood,” you gesture to yourself and the blouse, “is from someone who admitted to helping embezzle our fuckin’ money.”

“Koko kill ‘em?”

You shake your head. “Cut off a few fingers and shot him in the shoulder when he screamed too loudly.”

Rindou hums, face shifting gears back into neutral. “Why didn’t you tell me you two were looking into this?”

A small smile adorns your lips and you reach out to trace your thumb along his jaw. “You said you’d be busy, boss. I didn’t want to bother you with something trivial.”

“Trivial?” He scoffs. “Someone’s got an offshore account, stealing our money out from under us, and you say it’s trivial?”

“A minor hiccup,” you joke, a smile growing wider.

“Mm,” Rindou rises, looks at the way your breasts are held tight in the cups of your bra, and immediately turns away. “You need a fresh shirt.” There’s a sleek white armoire that sits against the wall next to your desk. “How does mint sound?”

You groan. “God awful, please just pick a normal color.”

With a huff, he pulls the gold plated handles and reveals a very nice collection of skirts, pants, blouses, and shoes.

“Do you fuckin’ live here?” He says, exasperated, as he flicks through the shirts. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for my extensive collection of clothes,” you answer, words drenched in sarcasm. “I got tired of trying to wash cum stains out of silk.”

Rindou tsks and plucks a baby pink blouse with a silk tie around the neck from the armoire. “Put this on.”

“‘s gonna fuck up my hair,” you whine, frowning even as he sticks his own arms through the bottom and neck, holding them open for you. “Rin, be careful.”

Without his permission, his blood pulses at the use of his name. He masks his own reaction with an exhale and working the top over the top of your head and neatly done hair. You stand up then, taking up his personal space with your chest brushing against his. Arms working through the blouse’s sleeves and tucking the rest into your pencil skirt. Careful hands ghost over your head, making sure everything is still held in place.

“Pink looks good on you.” Rindou adjusts the silk bow to rest prettily over your chest. “Do something for me,” he asks and then holds your chin firmly in his hand. “Tell me what you’re doing next time.”

There’s an expression in your eyes, one he can’t place before you gingerly pull his hand away and stand. “Mr. Haitani, I can’t bother you every time something comes up. You’re an executive.”

For a moment, he remains silent, processing your words and dismissal of his help. The line you’re drawing is thick and clear, except you forget he does his best work toeing it. He’s got the tools; a knife to scratch away the paint, and a killer smile that always seems to get under your skin.

“You’re right. I’m busy,” he amends, standing as well with a heavy sigh. “I hired you to manage the building and the books, not to find people who’re taking money from us. Do you understand?”

You tense your jaw, looking away from him. “And who would you like me to appoint to take care of those things?”

Rindou grins. “You call me.”

“Jesus fuckin’-,” you turn, gathering the papers on your desk and then slip your heels back on. “I’ve got work to finish.”

“That’s an order, angel.” You walk around him, throwing open the door to your office. “You better fuckin’ call me!”

He follows you out, but leaves you be when you take a hard left out of his path. He meets Kakucho in the car, sliding into the back.

“You took so long,” Kakucho sighs, not looking up from his phone. “I hope you weren’t getting your dick wet at the office again.”

“Sadly, no.” He pulls out his phone and begins drafting out a text to you as the driver pulls away. “Think Mikey would care if I brought a plus one to the gala?”

“No, as long as she doesn’t get in the way.”

Rindou chuckles. “How would she get in the way?”

Kakucho pockets his phone and leans back to observe the smitten man. “She’s a distraction the same way our little gun runner is.” Rin frowns a bit. “How are you gonna protect both?”

He runs his fingers through his hair and looks at Kakucho. “Why would I have to protect both?”

“You’ve got a soft spot for the princess and an even larger one for your little secretary—,”

“She isn’t my secretary,” Rin interrupts and Kakucho rolls his eyes. “She’d stab you with a hairpin for saying that. They both can protect themselves.”

Kakucho notes how that makes his friend smile a little too lovesick for his taste and sighs. “Whatever, Rindou. Bring her to the gala, but if she gets in the way, you know Mikey won’t think twice about getting rid of her.”

Rin: come over tomorrow.

You: no.

Rin: I’ll buy you a dress.

You: what do you want, Mr. Haitani?

Rin: so cold. I don’t always want something.

You don’t respond for ten minutes, so he calls you instead.

“Yes, Mr. Haitani?” You answer coolly, but he ignores the tone and presses forward.

“I want you to be my plus one for a gala at the Tokyo National Museum.”

Rin hears you hum thoughtfully. “Fine. I want a blue dress. I have white Jimmy Choo heels I haven’t had an excuse to wear yet.”

The image of you pondering over your designer shoe collection makes him grin. “Since when did you need an excuse to wear what you wanted?”

“These are reserved for special occasions.”

“Oh,” he rumbles, “who are you tryna step on at this gala, hm?” Kakucho looks at him with a disgusted grimace and Rin chuckles. “Kakucho’s next to me. He said he’d like you to do that to him.”

“I-man, fuck off!” The tips of his ears blaze red as he goes back to whatever’s keeping him preoccupied in his phone.

There’s a light laugh from you and Rindou counts it as a win.

“Don’t worry,” your tone changed; words now saccharine and dipped in honey. “The first person to be under me when I wear them will be you, Rin.”

He grins widely and leans his head back against the headrest before covering his face with his hand.

“That’s not fair, angel.”

“Fair’s boring,” you chuckle. “Now, send me pictures of the dresses you pick out. I can’t trust a Haitani’s taste in gowns.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You gasp dramatically. “Someone catches on quickly. Good boy.”

“I’m hanging up,” he says, exasperated and half-hard. “I’ll send pics.”

The last thing he hears is your laugh fading into the receiver as he hangs up.

“And you think you don’t have it bad.” Kakucho says, chuckling to himself.

“Shut up.”