Chuuya Nakahara

Pride is the enemy of personal stability.

Everyone is naturally inclined to be somewhat self-righteous. It's the way of the world, the organic flow of routine.

Everyone on earth indulges sin, including pride.

Throughout history, tragedies occurred solely because a few people of importance put their own thoughts and desires first, possessed by the lethal ideal of self importance. They were prone to the common ideology that their way was the right way. As long as things followed the blueprint of their expectations, nothing could go wrong whatsoever.

Because people who overindulge in pride see their achievements and capabilities through a perpetual false lens of grandeur.

They're under the assumption that they're so grand, that they and their feats carry an immense amount of significance over others. They know naught but triumph in the confines of their own self-centered mind.

Most forms of sin can be forgiven, including pride. General indulgence in the sin was only natural.

So as long as there was a balance in place, no issues should ensue.

As prideful as some tend to be, others aren't at all.

You were a person who lacked pride.

Not just pride, but shame. You weren't necessarily a pushover, seeing as you worked in the mafia, a breeding ground for hostility. But simultaneously, you had not much to live for. That's why you were there in the first place.

Perhaps you were seeking a purpose within the bloody organization that took you in during a time of need. The mafia wasn't for the faint-of-heart, and you fit in perfectly.

When you let your heart rule over your mind, over your bloodlust, you become bound to die. You end up promised to be thrown to the hungry wolves again.

You couldn't let that happen, especially after working so hard to earn a place in society. A damper on the sliver of pride you carry would be blasphemous, a crime against your desires.

But then there was that damned executive.

Chuuya Nakahara, the vicious mafia powerhouse who's renowned as the most skilled martial artist there. In a way, that title was terrifying, considering the talented array of skilled fighters and ability users the mafia harbored.

When it came to most of your missions in the beginning, you were working under different people of higher rank, taking on various missions to assess your own capability and strength. When your potential became apparent, you became part of another squad.

A squad directly under Chuuya's command.

Meeting the man himself was nothing short of intimidating, due to all the rumors your co-workers had told you beforehand.

’He's a loose cannon.’

’He'll make you bite the curb if you fuck up on a mission.’

But by the time you were actually acquainted with Chuuya, you doubted those statements and the ones like them were true.

He was a level headed man with a gentlemanly air around him. He genuinely seemed easy to get along with. It was such a wonder how this man could be so charming to his familiars, but so ruthless towards his enemies. What a beautiful oddity he was.

Over time, Chuuya witnessed your capabilities for himself, and he was beyond impressed. He couldn't help but feel a strange inclination to get to know you better, to potentially make a bond out of a professional relationship. He wasn't necessarily looking for anything serious, but the more company the better, right?

Chuuya gradually began going out of his way to talk to you more and more, until you two could be considered something more than co-workers. Friends, perhaps?

He was simply lovely to be around. The more you were exposed to his presence, the more you became intoxicated. It wasn't love, per sé, but a deep admiration for him, a deep desire to please him and fulfill all his wishes to the best of your ability.

During one of your casual chats, Chuuya briefly mentioned his interest in dogs, and how he'd love to adopt one, if he had the means. He watched the gears turning in your mind, and that's when he eventually brought up a proposal:

That you be his dog. He knows you aim to please him, and so he doesn't mind putting your resolve to the test.

You agreed enthusiastically, and later that day, he went out and purchased you a collar, leash, and a shiny nametag with your name on it. The snapping of metal after putting the collar on was like music to your ears, a sign of obedience and submission to your beloved executive.

In almost every way, you were playing the part of his dog. Letting him rub your belly, brush your hair, bathe you, and feed you delicious food that he cooked himself, most days. Shit, you'd be envious of any dog he might've had before this agreement, if you knew prior how he treated pets.

But yes, you were allowed to eat at the table with him, and you were more than welcome to cuddle him on the mattress. It was strange, having your body up against his like that. And yet you weren't dating, but simply pursuing the roles of owner and pet. It was exciting.

The relationship was innocent enough, at first. But this somewhat funny and lighthearted idea became sexual quickly. One night, Chuuya was unable to sleep due to a spontaneous surge of arousal. You, as his human pet, were determined to help him take care of it. From that point on, you two were comfortable treating your dynamic as an additional bedroom kink.

Never did you consider you'd enjoy being “owned” as a human being. But for Chuuya, you don't mind giving up that last bit of shame, simply because it's him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Another day, another damn night shift.

Chuuya was sitting boredly at his desk, pressing a pen to his lips as he stared at his paperwork with disinterest.

Though it was necessary as an executive, he wasn't fond of paperwork in the least. Every now and then, he looks under his desk at you, smiling. You're sitting on the floor under the desk, simply waiting for his beck and call. He can't help but sigh, hesitantly attending to his paperwork.

“This shit's so boring.. Just wanna go home already, damn it.”

Under the table, though, you were feeling needy. You knew Chuuya was busy, but what was so wrong with a little pleasure under the desk? You slowly move forward and slide a hand up his thigh, anticipating a reaction. He sure as hell noticed, but he mostly ignores it, save for nudging you with his shoe a little.

You were looking to turn him on. Who cared if someone walked in? They wouldn't have the right to say anything to Chuuya, unless they were the mafia boss or even another executive.

You crawl forward ever-so-slightly, placing both hands on his thighs and resting your chin on his lap. That was certainly getting his attention, as you heard his breath hitch. He watched with intrigue, arousal, and confusion as you started zipping down his fly with your teeth.

He knows this isn't a wise idea, but who is he to stop you, especially since you've been so good for him lately? Chuuya groans softly, tugging on your leash and pulling you forward more.

“Go on ahead and take what you want, baby. Just don't disappoint me, ‘ya hear? I ain't riskin’ my reputation for nothin’. You should be grateful I hate paperwork..” He sighs, closing his eyes and anticipating whichever move you may make next.