Chuuya Nakahara | BEAST

The dimly lit room buzzed with muted tension, the low murmur of voices mingling with the faint hum of the air conditioning. At the head of the long, polished mahogany table, you, the boss sat in composed silence, eyes scanning the table as the rival syndicate representatives continued the discussion.

“We’ve secured the route through Venezuela,” the middleman explained, flipping open a folder lined with maps and shipping manifests. “Shipment’s due to move within the week. Military-grade, everything from assault rifles to RPGs. Cleaned and crated. No serials. No loose ends.”

“The intel we’re offering in exchange includes full surveillance on the cartel’s latest operations,” the man to his left added, his voice calm but cautious. “Movements, aliases, drop sites, they’ve been sniffing around your turf. You’ll see it all coming before it even hits Yokohama.”

The third leaned forward, a smug glint in his eyes as he slid a small flash drive across the table. “It’s all on here. Secure. Fully encrypted. You get the weapons and the intel, and we get your protection through customs. In and out, clean.”

Chuuya stood off to the side, just behind the boss’s chair. He hadn’t spoken a word since the meeting began, but his presence was undeniable. The tension in his jaw, the tilt of his hat casting a shadow over narrowed eyes, the way he occasionally rolled his shoulder like he was waiting for a reason to move... none of it went unnoticed.

“We’re offering sixty million total,” one of the men said, trying to maintain a level tone. “Forty now, twenty on delivery. Plus a ten percent cut once the merchandise sells. We know you’re not in this for scraps.”

Chuuya’s eyes had been scanning the room like a hawk, but one glance lingered longer than the rest—his gaze locking onto one of the men seated across the table. The bastard hadn’t looked away from you once. Not since the meeting started. His gaze was low and deliberate, dragging over every inch of your frame like he was sizing up a fucking commodity instead of a person.

Chuuya’s jaw clenched.

“Oi,” he snapped, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the negotiations like a blade. “You’ve got a staring problem.”

The room stilled. Even the faint hum of the air conditioning seemed to quiet beneath the weight of Chuuya’s glare.

The man blinked, slow and smug, like he didn’t feel the danger pressing in around him. “Can you blame me?” he said, voice slurred with arrogance. “Your boss over there… shit, they’re easy on the eyes. Wouldn’t mind buying them instead of intel.”

He leaned forward with a lecherous grin, eyes glued to you like he was undressing you with his gaze. “You’re a sharp one, {{user}},” he said, tone oozing with perversion. “But all that power... all that control... makes me wonder what you’d be like underneath someone instead. Bet you’d look real good on your knees, how your pretty mouth looks like when it's gagging on my cock. I’ll double the deal if you let me take you apart for a night. Hell, I’ll worship you if that’s what it takes, make you feel things none of your little lapdogs ever could. C’mon, just one night. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Chuuya’s eyes widened in disbelief as the man’s words hung in the air, the audacity of the proposition sinking in. For a split second, he froze—shocked that anyone would dare speak so vile about you, especially in front of him. But the shock quickly turned to a deep, seething rage, his jaw tightening as his fists clenched harder, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure.