Chapter Text
Glyphs stand out starkly against the white walls, lining the room. Reigen has no idea what they mean, the language—if it even is a language—completely foreign to him, but their captors had smugly informed them hours ago, when they first woke up, that this chamber was built to negate psychic energy. He hasn’t seen any of them since, but he doesn’t know if that’s good or not. On the one hand, they have time to regroup, and work out a plan.
On the other, Reigen definitely has a concussion and probably needs medical attention and Reigen’s only help is Ritsu, who seems hell-bent on snapping Reigen’s head off every time he speaks, and Teru. Both middle school students, both just kids who don’t need to be worrying about something so minor when they’ve all been kidnapped.
“I think it’s been about three hours since they left us here. Hopefully they won’t leave us much longer,” Reigen says, just to fill the silence as he takes another turn around the room, as if he could outpace the fatigue at his heels.
“Can you shut up? I’m trying to listen.” Ritsu is at the door, ear pressed to it. It’s solid steel, and carved with those same patterns as everything else.
“I’m sure they’ll come back before long. This looks like Claw, or remnants of them. They’ll either make their demands or try and recruit us,” Teru says, frowning down at his lap. He’s sitting on the ground, back against the wall. “Last time they tried to recruit me, I at least had the chance to blow them off first.” His hands curl into tight little fists. “I’m sorry, Reigen-san. I should have been more aware.”
Reigen’s jaw clenches, sending a spike of pain through it. He hates how these kids seem to put the entire fate of the world and the people around them on their own shoulders. He turns his grimace into a grin. “Hey, what are you apologizing for? We all got caught by surprise. If the 21st Century’s Greatest Psychic didn’t see it coming, what were you supposed to do?”
Teru glances up at him, a small smile easing the knot between his eyebrows.
From the direction of the door, he hears a snort, but Reigen ignores it.
His head throbs in time with his heart, a distracting staccato in his ears. He’d felt the tickle of blood at his hairline when he first woke up, but it must have congealed, so he’s not actively bleeding at least. There’s a dizziness he can’t shake when he moves too fast, and nausea has turned his stomach into a tumultuous sea, which isn’t great, but it could be worse.
Ritsu and Teru, at least, appear unharmed. Whatever their captors had used to knock them out had actually worked on them—probably that psychic sleep spray or whatever. Reigen was the lucky one who’d taken a little more effort to go down.
Well, better him than the kids, anyways. Gotta look on the bright side.
All of their hands are cuffed behind them, clothes disheveled from what he can only assume was a thorough pat down. Reigen’s jacket is completely gone, their pockets turned out, and their shoes nowhere to be found. Not a cell phone or salt packet between them—not that salt is particularly effective against espers, but he could have thrown it in their eyes or something, if his hands weren’t cuffed.
He tested those thoroughly as well. He’s no expert on handcuffs, but he’d say these aren’t just novelty store fuzzy cuffs. If he had even a paperclip, he’s sure he could pick them, but any stray items in his pockets had been cleared out too, the white insides poking out like tongues.
“Hear anything?” he asks, making his way to Ritsu’s side.
“Maybe if you’d be quiet for one second,” Ritsu grumbles, hands clenched at the small of his back. “and stop all that stomping around.”
Reigen refrains from commenting on the attitude. Maybe if he were dealing with another adult, but Ritsu is barely going on thirteen and in a frankly terrifying situation. Scared kids lash out—and Ritsu is already pretty short-tempered when it comes to Reigen. He has no idea how this kid is Mob’s brother.
He gives it another few seconds, watching Ritsu stare intently at the wall with his head held against the door. Mentally counting down, before saying, “Anything?”
“No.” Ritsu shoves away from the door in disgust, pacing back towards Teru. “I can’t tell if anyone is even out there.”
“Well, nothing we can do but wait for them to come back and find out what they want.”
Ritsu shoots him a look, the same one he’s been giving Reigen this whole time. A glare, lips parted like he wants to say something, before they compress to a thin line and he turns away without a word.
There’s not much else in this room. Spots where furniture obviously used to protect the floor from dirt, until they repurposed this place and drew all over the walls. There are a couple of cameras high up in the corners, out of reach, but they must be more for show than function—they’re off and there’s a wire just hanging down from one of them, unattached to anything.
It’s unlucky he doesn’t have anything more, but he’s gotta work with what he does have. He resumes his lap around the room, mulling over the possibilities. Depending on how many people come through that door, he might be able to rush them. The short chain on the cuffs prevent him from getting his hands in front of him, though, so he’ll probably just get thrown back in the room.
“Can’t you do anything useful, you old fraud?” Ritsu says, sitting down by Teru, who frowns and elbows him.
“I’m not that old! And I’ll have you know I’m working on an excellent escape plan,” Reigen says with a grin. “We’ll be out of here before Mob even knows we’re gone.”
“Somehow I don’t think walking around and doing nothing counts as an escape plan.”
“I said I was working on it! You kids don’t need to worry about it, let the adult handle it, okay?”
The glare Ritsu levels at Reigen is unamused. He’s got that look again, like he wants to say something, and this time, he must be annoyed enough to follow through. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you.”
Oh, boy. They’re going to play the blame game. “How do you figure that?” Reigen says, raising an eyebrow.
“Maybe if we hadn’t had to babysit you, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Wait, what? You can’t blame this on me, we were literally kidnapped!”
“Ritsu, you know that’s not fair—”
“We wouldn’t have been taken if we hadn’t gone on that stupid job!”
The job in question had not been supernatural, as far as Reigen could tell—just help a single mother hearing bumps in the night. Most likely small creatures in the crawlspace. Serizawa would normally have come with him, but his employee had a group assignment for school to finish, and Reigen isn’t one to stand in the way of a good education. Mob, likewise, had a prior engagement with a school friend. It’s not the first time Teru or Ritsu have filled in, just in case he does get a client dealing with genuine supernatural phenomenon. Teru had been eager to help, if a little disappointed it wasn’t anything more serious, but Ritsu had scoffed after Reigen got off the phone and explained their next job.
“Really? You want to drag us around playing pest control? Tell her to hire a professional and quit wasting our time.”
“Hey, it’s not a waste of time to help someone in need. Sometimes, people misattribute their troubles to spirits, whether it’s because it’s easier to face than the truth, or because they need to believe in something higher than them. Our job is to ease those troubles, however we can.”
Teru, at least, looked impressed. Ritsu, on the other hand, scowled.
“You mean con them into believing they’re haunted so they’ll spend more money on ‘exorcisms’ in the future rather than going to someone who can actually handle it.”
“I said what I meant, Mob’s little brother, so let’s get going!”
A quick train ride and short walk later, they’d arrived at their destination, Reigen with more than a few rodent traps on his person. It had been simple enough to get into the crawl space beneath the house, set out some glue traps, and assure the client that he would be back the next day to pick them up. Yes, of course the spirits possessing the animals would be exorcised and the animals safely freed at a location suitable to their needs.
So he may have hammed it up a little bit, but ultimately no one was being harmed. He was doing her a service—pest control isn’t cheap, but Spirits and Such has excellent deals on multiple, small entities causing a ruckus.
That’s where things start to get a little fuzzy. He thinks he remembers heading back to the train station, offering to treat them to ramen before they return. Teru, he’s gleaned from overheard conversations and gathered tidbits, doesn’t have any parents looking out for him at home, and Reigen has been trying to help out without causing too much of a fuss. It’s clear Teru has been going it alone for a while, and he knows how prideful teenagers can be.
He’s pretty sure ramen never happened, however. Someone had approached them, asking something, but his memory is a damaged film reel, skipping and faded until it cuts out entirely. He thinks he said something. He thinks something was sprayed in their faces, and he covered his mouth in time. One of the kids had grabbed at him, or maybe he’d grabbed at them, a dark smudge sliding to the street. A smear of color in his memories, his knuckles stinging, red and abraded, with the echo of a fight.
Someone, multiple someones, had gotten the better of him. His head throbs, just above his temple, tender and swollen. If he thinks about the pain too much it makes his stomach turn.
“We probably would have been attacked somewhere else, if we hadn’t gone,” Teru says, the voice of reason.
“Exactly! Thank you,” Reigen nods vigorously, but that makes his vision swim, so he stops.
Crossing his arms, Ritsu turns his face away, nose wrinkled. “Don’t act like that means you’re not at fault. If you were actually the great esper you claim to be, we could have fought them off, but instead you’re just useless.”
Ouch. He’s not wrong. It is Reigen’s responsibility to keep them safe after all, and both of them have been targeted before. He could have been a little more wary of strangers approaching them on the street like that, and maybe they wouldn’t have been caught off guard. Now they’re stuck here, wherever here is. Mob’s not going to be happy.
The thought settles in his chest, leaden and repellant. The kid’s never said an unkind thing to Reigen, but this is different. He couldn’t manage to keep Mob’s brother and best friend safe, and Reigen’s only seen Mob explode once, but he’s pretty sure this is more than enough to set him off.
A kid shouldn’t have to worry about the safety of his loved ones so much. And said loved ones shouldn’t have to worry about constant kidnapping and world domination plots. He’s not sure if they’ll be able to get out of this, but damn it, Reigen will do his best for all their sakes. He can’t let Mob down again.
He hates guys who mess with kids.
—
Their red uniforms look ridiculous, Reigen privately thinks. But he keeps his mouth shut as the four guys enter the room. There’s a brief moment where he can see out the door, but it’s just a flash of white wall and tiled floor before it closes behind them. There’s no glyphs out there, however. If he can get even one of the kids outside of the room, they’ll be able to escape. He’s sure either one of them is more than strong enough to get out of here and find Serizawa. It’s getting out that will be a problem.
For once, he wishes Dimple had decided to tag along with them instead of sticking with Mob. If that little snot was here, he could have gone and gotten reinforcements by now.
There’s only four men, but there’s no way the three of them can take them on and escape. They’d clearly been ready for a fight the moment the door opened, and even as they file in, they watch their captives carefully until the door clangs shut.
The one in the back, average height, short brown hair, is carrying a camera, and he looks at Teru and Ritsu with a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. The camera is big, not just a palm-sized digital camcorder, but something professional. The two in front of him—one with dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail, the other taller, neatly combed hair and a goatee—are looking to the one in front with neutral expressions.
The one in the lead is tall, and well-built for an esper. His black hair is styled up from his forehead and there’s a smattering of stubble on his jaw. A purple bruise blooms across his cheekbone. He gives them all a once-over, smiling sharply. “So, I know you’re wondering why you’re here,” he says, voice gravelly.
“We can take a guess,” Ritsu bites out, shoving himself up awkwardly with both hands behind his back. Teru follows, both of them tense.
Reigen moves swiftly towards them, planting himself between the big guy and the teenagers. “Some answers would be nice, actually,” he says quickly, shifting his weight to one leg, raising an eyebrow. Keep it casual. No need to set anyone off if they can talk this through. “Why don’t we start with names? I’m Reigen Arataka, current custodian of my two young employees here. You would be…?”
Names are always a good place to start. It builds a connection, and connections breed familiarity. It’s harder to hurt someone when they have a name to put to the face. Or so Reigen hopes.
The smile turns amused. “I would say it’s good to see someone with some manners here, but you’re quite audacious yourself, aren’t you? For now, you can call me Takashi. This here’s Yamamoto, Sato, and Nakamura.” He gestures to ponytail, goatee, and the cameraman respectively.
Generic, certainly not any of their real names. “Nice to meet you,” he says, not a trace of irony in his voice.
The one in back rolls his eyes, and the other two give each other knowing smirks. Sweat dampens the back of Reigen’s shirt.
“As for why you three are here, this is a hostage situation.”
Hostage situation.
Not good.
“And what are we being held hostage for? What are your demands and who are you making them to?” Reigen asks, much more calmly than he feels, affecting an unimpressed air.
He can practically feel Ritsu behind him, ready to explode. He tries to wave his hand discreetly, hoping Ritsu gets the message. Whether he does or doesn’t, thankfully the kid says nothing.
“President Suzuki was so close to his goal,” Takashi says, crossing his arms, the smile dropping from his face. “when a brat with too much power got in his head, and he allowed himself to be arrested.”
Reigen keeps his face neutral. “So you want revenge? Is that what this is about?”
“Not so much revenge, as a chance to try again. With his power on our side, we can finish what President Suzuki was too afraid to. Through our surveillance, we’ve found that Kageyama Shigeo is very close to two people specifically.” Takashi nods past Reigen, to the two teens behind him. “We’ll show him exactly what kind of danger they will be in if he doesn’t cooperate. You,” he shrugs carelessly. “were just an unlucky accident. We would have let you go, except, well—” he gestures to his bruised cheek, baring his teeth in an unhappy smile.
“You guys are stupid if you think my brother will give in to your demands,” Ritsu finally bursts out, marching past Reigen to glare the man down. If Reigen’s hands were free he’d grab the back of the kid’s school jacket and haul him out of reach.
Takashi’s amusement is tinged with contempt. “If you think coercion isn’t a powerful instrument, you don’t know anything, kid.”
“No, you don’t know anything,” Teru says, stepping up next to Reigen. “Once he knows you kidnapped us, he will find us, and you guys are going to regret even looking in our direction.”
They’re not wrong, but Reigen wishes these kids wouldn’t antagonize the guys who’ve kidnapped them. That they wouldn’t put the expectation of rescue on Mob. Mob could blast his way through wherever they are in seconds, but he shouldn’t have to.
Just like last time. The thought often haunts him when he’s alone in his small apartment. That he was so late to the rescue, only becoming aware of the situation after following the GPS on Mob’s phone and talking his way into that base. At least he’d managed to divert Mob from having to take those scar guys on, to possibly hurt any of them and have to live with the guilt Reigen knows would weigh on his sensitive student for the rest of his life.
Sometimes, though, he dreams otherwise. Waking in a cold sweat from nightmares where he got there far too late, finding Mob surrounded by destruction and bodies, the remnants of the power he so often feared. Or to find that Claw had managed to do far worse to his student and his friends. That Mob, Ritsu, and Teru had lost their lives against the adult espers who saw nothing wrong with fighting children. Their small bodies cold and limp in those empty hallways.
He suppresses a shiver at the thought, eyes flitting to the camera in Nakamura’s hands.
“If you think we’re just going to let you do what you want with us, then you’re wrong about that too,” Ritsu says, glowering up at the man. “Why don’t you take us out of this room and fight us on equal footing. Or are you afraid a couple of middle schoolers are going to kick your butts?”
“Boss, go ahead and let them out,” Ponytail, or Yamamoto, says with an eagerness Reigen absolutely despises. He raises a hand, and if not for the glyphs surrounding them, Reigen’s sure he’d be demonstrating some psychic ability right now. “I can take them. Like they said, they’re just two teenagers.”
“Just teenagers? Big talk for someone who had to take us by surprise,” Teru snaps. “If this were a fair fight, you wouldn’t stand a chance against us.”
With a put-upon sigh, Takashi waves a hand. Cracking his knuckles, Yamamoto steps forward, rearing his fist back.
“Hold it, hold it, hold on guys!” He bumps Teru’s shoulder roughly, the kid stumbling out of the way, and the guy pauses, arm raised. Reigen’s hands long to fly up and gesture frantically, but the cuff cuts into his wrists when they twitch to do just that. “This isn’t going to work out the way you think it will. Mob’s not the kind of kid you want to mess around with. You touch a hair on their heads and all you’re going to do is make him mad.”
Their attention is on him now, which is good. “Maybe we want to piss him off. You ever think about that?” Yamamoto hisses, grabbing the front of Reigen’s shirt and dragging him close. His eyes are brown flecked with green. Reigen’s headache thumps to the beat of his rushing pulse. “He destroyed our plans. We don’t care if we make some teenager angry.”
“Trust me, you will if it’s Mob. You think you can take on the type of guy who beat the leader of Claw?” He hates putting Mob out here like this, like he’s some big hero who’s going to kick their asses, but he’s got everyone’s attention now.
“I think we can control him, when we have these two. All we have to do is show him what’s going to happen if he doesn’t cooperate, and he’ll be eating out the palm of our hands,” Yamamoto hisses.
“You can’t. Take my word for it, anything you do to them will come back on you tenfold. Tell me you’re smart enough to see that.” He wants to be reasonable, to keep this peaceful, but he’s not sure that’s possible.
“Shut your mouth.” Yamamoto shakes him, brows twisted with sudden rage. It rattles his brain hard against his skull, and his vision doubles for a moment. “Or I’ll shut it for you.”
“What kind of cheap supervillain talk is that?” Reigen says, puffing out his chest, all bravado as he tries to focus on the man’s face. “Is that the best you’ve got?” The contempt he puts into the words is all real.
“Shut the fuck up!” Yamamoto swings.
Reigen flinches, but it doesn’t land. He blinks, and realizes Takashi is holding Yamamoto’s arm, halting him. After a tense moment, Yamamoto drops his arm and lets go with a noise of disgust, throwing Takashi’s hand off and stalking back a few paces. Reigen steps away, straightening his shoulders, trying to get his shirt to settle back into place on his frame. Trying to calm his racing heart and steady the spinning.
Takashi’s gaze slips between Reigen, Ritsu, and Teru, and then narrows on Reigen, like a sniper getting a bead on their target. His lips lift at the corners.
“You seem like a man who enjoys the spotlight,” he says, tilting his head, eyes raking over Reigen. “Handsome, quick talker.” His eyes flick to the kids behind Reigen, and then back to him, meaningful.
He suppresses a shiver. “They don’t call me the 21st Century’s Greatest Psychic for nothing.”
The man barks out a derisive laugh, which prompts a low giggle from the cameraman. Sato is still completely silent. “So, you think the kid won’t cooperate if we hurt them?” Takashi says, thoughtful.
“I know he won’t,” Reigen says, not a shred of doubt in his mind.
“But he will if we hurt you?”
His gut goes cold. “You know that’s not what I meant. We can work this out, this doesn’t have to end badly for either of us.”
Takashi drapes an arm around Reigen’s shoulders as if they’re buddies, pulling. Reigen allows himself to be tugged along like a wrecked ship, too aware of Ritsu and Teru being left out in the open sea behind him. When they’re across the room, Takashi leans down, and Reigen only realizes how much he’s been craning his neck up to look at the guy when it’s a relief to lower it slightly.
“I’m willing to test that theory,” he says, voice low, deep, and right in his ear. Reigen’s shoulders come up, or try to, but the weight of Takashi’s massive arm anchors them. He hears Ritsu and Teru both shifting, trying to get closer, and points a finger at them, hoping it conveys what he wants it to. Don’t do anything.
“Okay,” Reigen says, swallowing around his dry lump of a tongue.
“How about if whatever we were going to do to them, we do to you. And if seeing his friends safe and sound in our capture doesn’t motivate Shigeo to cooperate, then we’ll do it to them, too. Does that sound fair?”
The bottom drops out of Reigen’s gut.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing!” Ritsu shouts, and Reigen twists beneath Takashi’s arm, heart in his throat, but Ritsu is addressing Reigen as he stomps towards them. Yamamoto steps between them, halting his approach, but it doesn’t stop Ritsu from burning holes through Reigen with all the power of an angry teenager’s glare. “Reigen, stop giving these assholes the time of day. Get back over here!”
Behind him, Teru is giving Reigen a desperate look. They both look so small with Yamamoto standing over them, fists ready at his sides, too eager to take out his aggression on the pair.
“They put up a good front, but they’re just scared kids, aren’t they?” Takashi whispers, glancing at Reigen with a knowing smirk. “I don’t mind. Kids or adults, it’s all the same to us. We’re getting what we want either way, you know that, right?”
They’re wrong. Whether they hurt Ritsu and Teru or not, Mob will be angry anyways. Angry enough to explode, maybe. Once he sees whatever proof they send to him, it won’t be long before he comes. Maybe he’ll find Serizawa first, maybe he won’t try to go it alone, but Reigen can’t think of that anymore.
Right now, Reigen just has to make sure nothing happens to Ritsu or Teru until then.
“Yamamoto,” Takashi says, “Go ahead, show him—”
“Nope, no, I get you,” Reigen blurts out. “I think I’m starting to see your point of view.”
The look Ritsu shoots him is murderous, and even Teru’s eyes widen with surprise.
“That’s good. I’m glad you see it my way.”
Takashi lets go, waving a hand, drawing Yamamoto, Nakamura, and Sato back to him. Reigen stays where he is, giving a silent head shake when Teru starts to move towards him. He slaps an easy smile on his face and goes to give them a thumbs up—forgetting, for a moment, the cuffs. It doesn’t seem to ease either of them. If anything, Ritsu only looks more annoyed, and Teru, concerned.
This could be to their advantage. As much as he doesn’t want to leave the kids alone—Takashi could be lying, they might hurt Ritsu and Teru regardless of the deal Reigen made—if he’s outside the room he can get the lay of the building, and possibly grab something to get out of these cuffs. Anything could be to his advantage.
He focuses on that, and not whatever they have planned for him. Imagining getting knocked around like in the movies before shoving it deftly from his mind. Right, he can deal with that. Well, Takashi is pretty big, and those muscles are no joke. So it’s going to hurt. But, better him than the kids. He tells himself that quietly, watching from the corner of his eye as the four men talk amongst themselves.
After a few moments of quiet conversation, of which Reigen only catches a few words, Takashi and Sato, the man with the glasses and clean-cut hair, are at his side again. Yamamoto gestures the kids back, herding them against the far wall. He lifts his shirt, and Reigen’s heart jumps into his throat at the knife he pulls out, the blade long and gleaming in the fluorescents. Ritsu and Teru pull back nervously at the sight, and Yamamoto remains by them, one hand on his hip, but his eyes are on Reigen and Takashi.
“We’re all in agreement.” Takashi says, fingers touching Reigen’s chin lightly. And then, voice lowering, just for Reigen, “Make sure you put on a good show. I want to be convinced.”
A good show?
“What do you—hey!”
Takashi’s hand drops to Reigen’s tie, tugging on it until it loosens. Reigen steps back into something solid, and two hands land on his waist, making him start. He twists, trying to shake the grip, but it squeezes painfully over his hip bones. Reigen’s shirt comes open in a tearing of buttons that land on the tile with little pings, baring his pale, skinny torso.
“This—” Reigen glances around Takashi’s shoulder, at Ritsu and Teru watching with anger and worry respectively, and lowers his voice. “Just what are you doing?”
“Keeping our end of the bargain,” Takashi says, more than loud enough for everyone to hear.
Reigen’s mind spins as his shirt is forced back over his shoulders, bunching over his arms. The hands on his hips trail up his sides, smooth, uncalloused fingers reaching forward to grope at his chest. He inhales sharply, especially as Takashi finds his belt.
“Woah, hold on, wait,” Reigen says, voice barely a squeak. He can see Teru straining to hear, but Yamamoto gives him a sharp glare that sends him back a step. “This isn’t what I had in mind. I thought this was going in a very different direction.”
Takashi doesn’t even pause. Yanking the leather open. “Well, we can always stop. Go back to our original plan. Like I said—kids or adults, it doesn’t make a difference to us.”
Numb horror grips his heart from the inside. They were going to—to two teenagers. Two children.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” Ritsu, unable to stay quiet a moment longer.
Takashi’s eyes are cold gray behind his little smile, his fingers catching in Reigen’s belt loops. “What are we doing, Reigen-san? Have you changed your mind?”
Sweat pours down Reigen’s back. His head feels full, heavy, pounding. He swallows and his throat clicks. “I-I don’t mind, but I’m not really into kids watching. Kind of kills the vibe, you know?” He keeps his eyes squarely on Takashi’s face, his voice quiet.
Behind him, Sato laughs. His voice is as mild-mannered as a phone salesman, but the words rip straight through Reigen. “I bet you like an audience. Never met a slut that didn’t like being watched.”
He hears more than sees Ritsu and Teru’s reactions. A startled intake of breath, the sound of his name like a soft prayer. His own eyes are locked firmly on Takashi. It feels like a pit has opened inside him, and everything inside has fallen in. Not in front of them. Please.
“Reigen, are you kidding me? Can’t you keep it in your pants for one minute! This is serious.” Ritsu, outraged, undoubtedly trying to murder Reigen with his eyes. It makes Sato laugh, delighted, and in front of him, Takashi positively grins.
“Sounds like this ain’t the first time, is it, Reigen? You got a thing for stuff like this? You wanna be held down? We can do that for you.”
Hot shame creeps up Reigen’s neck. The kids are watching, he can’t let himself panic. If he panics, what will that do to Teru and Ritsu?
“Reigen-san,” Teru says, quietly, and Reigen can’t handle the confusion in that voice.
“Remember, if I think you’re not enjoying this, I might lose interest,” Takashi murmurs. He tugs pointedly on Reigen’s belt loop.
He doesn’t have a choice. Kids or adults, and it’s not gonna be the kids.
Taking a deep breath, Reigen forces his shoulders down from around his ears. “Yeah,” he manages, throat tight. “I gotcha.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Now you kids get to see how adults have fun,” Takashi crows.
A shiver runs up his spine as Sato leans down, lips caressing Reigen’s neck, feather soft. He already feels so exposed with just his chest on display. Too aware of the chill air prickling his skin. His heart hammering against his rib cage. His charges, watching them from across the room.
“This is disgusting,” Ritsu spits. “I can’t believe you!”
Yeah, neither can he.
The hands on him are rough, excited, fingers popping the button of his slacks and hooking his waistband, yanking down. Sato’s breath is hot on Reigen’s neck, his groping hands tweaking a nipple until it hardens. Reigen makes an embarrassing noise in the back of his throat. His gut churns and a wave of dizziness washes through him.
The slacks stick to his sweaty skin for a moment before falling around his socked feet. His underwear follows only a moment later, and then he’s naked, the remnants of his clothes manacling his wrists and ankles. His tie like a cut noose hanging around his throat. His hands clench in the jumble of his shirt hard enough for his palms to ache even through the fabric.
The air is cold on his legs, his ass, his groin, and he can’t even cover himself. Sato leans back for a moment, and Reigen hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper. He’s yanked suddenly backwards by the hips, feet tangled in his pants, falling against the man. Tensing at the hot flesh that presses firm against his backside.
“Just stay where you are,” Yamamoto says, gruff, and Reigen’s eyes dart past Takashi’s shoulder unwillingly.
Teru glares up at Yamamoto, and Reigen pales at the knife pointed in Teru’s direction. Ritsu kicks the back of Teru’s leg, saying, “It’s not worth it,” and Reigen looks away when their eyes turn to him. At least Ritsu will keep Teru from acting rashly.
Takashi’s body barely blocks him from view, and he’s grateful for that, though he knows it won’t last. Not with Takashi undoing the front of his red pants, fishing inside for his own swelling cock. Behind him, Sato settles hot and heavy against the cleft of Reigen’s ass, brushing against his cuffed hands. He uses his grip on Reigen’s hips to grind against him.
This is all happening too quick. His eyes dart between Takashi, the camera, Nakamura, the dick being pressed against his belly. The room is both too big and too small, and he twitches when Takashi strokes himself against Reigen’s stomach.
“I’m kind of glad we got this one, sir,” Sato says, nosing behind Reigen’s ear, mouthing at the sensitive skin beneath. “He’s undoubtedly pretty.”
Under any other circumstance, the compliment would have Reigen blushing. He takes care to look presentable for work, but he isn’t often thrown compliments like that. Instead it sends nausea spiralling through his chest.
He can’t do this in front of the kids. It’s beyond fucked up, disgusting—they’re going to remember this for the rest of their lives. “Come on, you don’t want to do this somewhere more private?” he says, and he’s glad it sounds so calm and firm, because his mind is caught in a gale of panicked thoughts.
“You’re the one asking for it, Reigen-san. You can’t be picky now,” Sato says.
“It—I’ll do anything you want. Anything. Just not here, okay?” Not this, not in front of the kids, they cannot see this. They can’t.
“Reigen, hey, listen to me,” Takashi says, cupping Reigen’s face, voice low and soft, like he’s soothing a scared animal. His hands are big, and warm on Reigen’s cheek. “I don’t know how clear I can be. Someone in this room is getting fucked, right here and right now. Is it you, or is it them?”
His gut swoops, the sensation of stepping off a ledge and finding nothing beneath him.
“Me,” he says, so quiet, a shivery whisper.
“Good. Now, you’re cute, but you talk a little too much for me,” Takashi says, thumbing at Reigen’s lower lip. Reigen has to fight the instinct to turn his head away. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we demonstrate for the class a better use for a mouth. Go ahead, get on your knees.”
He pales, vision shaking as he stares at Takashi, who only raises an eyebrow.
Sighing like he’s disappointed, Takashi takes a step away. “I’m getting bored already. Maybe I should—”
Reigen’s knees hit the floor with a crack. He’s barely aware of the splintering pain driving down his shins through the sudden head rush.
“Damn, someone’s eager,” Yamamoto calls.
Takashi steps to the side, and Reigen isn’t quick enough to avert his eyes. Ritsu’s gaze is murderous. Teru’s mouth is half-open in shock. It hits him like a slap to the face. The position he’s in, the witnesses. He can’t talk himself out of this one. This is really about to happen.
“Reigen-san, if you’re bargaining, you don’t have to do this, we can find another way,” Teru says, so desperate. It spears right through his chest, leaving a ragged hole in the center. They have no idea what these Claw guys want to do to them.
“Don’t,” Ritsu says, cold as ice. “He can do whatever he wants.”
For once, he’s glad Ritsu is angry, that Teru is confused. They don’t have to know what this really is. He won’t let them.
He has to really crane his neck to look at Takashi now. His pants open, cock in hand, squeezing it in long strokes. Reigen is nothing but a mouse caught beneath the talons of a hungry hawk.
There’s no use hoping this won’t happen in front of Ritsu and Teru. It’s this, or something far worse. He grits his teeth, the drumming on his skull doubling. The only thing he can do to make this any less traumatizing for them is to do as he’s told. The last thing he needs is for these guys to get rough with him, to get bored, or for the kids to see him scared. As long as they don’t see him scared, they won’t worry.
He takes a slow breath and forces his teeth apart. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
A shark-toothed smile spreads across Takashi’s lips. He steps forward without a word, and Reigen doesn’t pull his head back but it’s a close thing. Thinks briefly about asking if they have any condoms, then snorts to himself. Yeah, sure, let’s just pause the sexual assault so everyone can make sure they’re being safe.
Takashi’s hand guides the dick forward, and Reigen’s lips thin before he pries his tongue up and opens his mouth. It merely glosses over his lips, instead. Smearing the clear, shiny precome. It’s warm and wet and he feels a surge of revulsion, at the feeling of it, this situation, himself for kneeling here, waiting to give their captor a blowjob like an eager lover.
Obviously enjoying the sight of Reigen struggling to keep himself from pulling away, Takashi takes his sweet time. The head teases the open ring of Reigen’s mouth before running over his lower lip and down his chin. It leaves a glistening trail in its wake.
“Impatient?” Sato asks from his right, dropping down to a crouch. There’s a creak of plastic and a wet, plunging noise. Reigen’s eyes dart to the side, and he sees a small, plastic tube squeezing a clear gel into Sato’s palm. The man caps it, letting it fall to the floor and bounce into Reigen’s knee. After a moment, wet, cold fingers prod at his cheeks, spreading them.
He closes his eyes in resignation, and nearly chokes in surprise when his mouth is filled with hot flesh. It takes a moment for him to figure out what to do. Lips closing, teeth brushing spongy skin, until a hand threads through his hair, tugging tight in warning.
“Careful,” he warns.
Internally, Reigen grimaces, and tries to remember what women do in porn. His sexual experience isn’t non-existant, but it’s pretty limited. He had one girlfriend in early college, and they had sex maybe once, not for lack of interest on her part. It didn’t take long for them to break up.
He watches porn every now and then, but even that isn’t something he cares to do often. He’s never been repulsed by the idea of being with a man, and he’s looked at gay porn a few times, wondering if maybe he’s not as straight as he thought. It hadn’t been terrible—about the same as looking at straight porn, in his opinion. He pays less attention to the actors and more attention to the idea of what they’re doing.
So, in short, he doesn’t have the experience, doesn’t even really have the second-hand knowledge from masturbation material. Just a vague idea that he needs to be careful with his teeth and that this might be easier with his hands free.
He jumps as wet fingers prod at his hole, the tip of one sliding in easily with how slick it is. It’s hard to focus on his mouth and not the strange sensation of something violating him so intimately. He closes his lips around the shaft, the skin dark and thickly veined. It tastes gross, sharp and salty, like a dirty coin, and the scent is thick in his nostrils.
He has to work not to gag from disgust, and steels himself before winging it. Pressing his tongue along the length, he tries to keep his jaw open enough not to scrape his teeth on it, and bobs his head. He has no idea how he’s doing, if this is good enough for these creeps, but he’s got to keep their attention on him.
“Whoa there, take it easy,” Takashi says, and the hand in Reigen’s hair tightens, slowing him, but still not letting him pull off or stop. “You’re going too fast. Let’s take our time.”
The single finger becomes two as Reigen struggles through the awkward blowjob. He doesn’t dare glance Teru and Ritsu’s way, but they’re in plain view. There’s no way they don’t know exactly what Reigen is doing. Sweat pours down his back, and he feels hot and sick.
A sound forces its way out of Reigen’s mouth at the motion of the fingers in his ass. Strange and wet, rubbing at his walls, twisting and plunging in deep, to the last knuckle. “You’re tight, Reigen-san. Don’t tell me you’re a virgin here.”
He can’t answer, and if he could, it would just be to spit in the guy’s face. But he has to remember, Yamamoto with that knife, standing over Ritsu and Teru. He keeps his eyes on Takashi’s pelvis, and the thick, curling pubic hair. His jaw aches and his head hurts and he wants this to be over but it’s only just started.
The seconds and minutes tick on, an interminable march that he can’t keep track of. His knees twinge, digging into the unforgiving tile with all his weight. Saliva pools in his mouth, running down his chin and Takashi’s cock. The hand in his hair tightens again. Hips twitching, Takashi holds him still, thrusting faster. Reigen’s stomach spins as he realizes the guy is about to come.
“Look at me,” Takashi says, deep and rough. “Look me in the eyes.”
Reigen does so, tilting his head slightly. Takashi’s mouth is a flinty smile, and their gazes meet. Takashi’s pupils are blown with arousal, and he licks his lips, hips moving faster. His free hand cups Reigen’s face, thumb stroking the soft skin. He glances away, ice water trickling down his spine, and the almost gentle hold turns punishing, digging into his cheek. He gasps around the cock, eyes flying up, but the grip doesn’t relent. Fingers curling into Reigen’s jaw, squeezing in against his teeth until he’s trembling with the force. It’s going to break, Reigen’s sure, the guy is going to break his—
He jerks as his mouth is filled, gagging as it hits the back of his throat. He’s coughing, yanking back, but Takashi’s hand is solid marble. It stings in his nose, runs over his tongue, but he refuses to swallow—if he does, he’s not sure he can hold his stomach down anymore.
Then finally he’s being released. He shakes his head, hacking, feeling a mixture of saliva and semen dripping down his lips. It’s warm, slimy, disgusting. He spits, throat raw and scratchy, cheek red from where Takashi had held him so tightly, jaw throbbing.
There’s a snorting laugh, and Reigen turns his head, eyes falling into the black hole of the camera lens.
They’re recording this.
To show to Mob? To keep? Who gets the copy of this when it’s over?
No one, he tells himself. Mob or Serizawa will come. They’ll get Reigen and the kids out of here and Reigen will break that camera with his bare hands.
He spits one last time, a glob of white and clear fluids hitting the floor by his knee, and grunts when the fingers in his ass are removed.
“You’re very quiet all of a sudden. Nothing to say now?” Sato says as he stands, passing the tube of lubricant to Takashi.
He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to give them any fuel for humiliation. But he’s a talker, and he can’t help when his aching jaw unhinges, voice scratchy as he says, “Is that all you’ve got?”
Yamamoto laughs, a derisive, grating noise, and Takashi shakes his head as if amused as he tucks himself back into his pants, but leaves the fly open. “Alright, since you’re so greedy for more, why don’t you choose who gets to take that pretty little ass first?”
First? Shit.
He hadn’t thought—well, of course they’re going to take turns with him. What did he expect, one and done? Of course not. There’s four of them, and they’re all looking down at him with mixed expressions of interest and glee. He can do this. Right?
From somewhere inside the empty cavern of his chest, Reigen reels up a smirk to hide the trembling of his lips. “I’ll take you, big guy.”
He nods past Takashi and Sato, to Yamamoto, where he’s still menacing Ritsu and Teru with the knife. Being very careful not to let his eyes fall on either of them.
“Me? Hell yeah.” Yamamoto steps away from the kids, spinning the blade over his fingers like a coin before pocketing it. Reigen’s shoulders relax just the slightest bit as Takashi moves to take his place standing guard, passing the lube to him.
Reigen doesn’t have time to wonder how this is going to work before Yamamoto is shoving him forward by the back of his neck. His chin strikes the ground and it reverberates through his aching jaw and to a point behind his right eye. He has to blink to clear the black spots from his vision.
Like this he has a clear view of Ritsu and Teru, Takashi watching over them passively. Clearly ready in case they try to cause any trouble. They’re not looking at him, but seem to be communicating to each other via worried frowns and scowls.
He hears the rustle of fabric, a zipper, footsteps. Nakamura, the camera in hand, moving around for a better angle. The lube squeezes wetly into a palm, the smack of it being rubbed around. Reigen twists his head to look, eyes flicking to the tube as it’s tossed back to Sato, and then snapping back to Yamamoto, kneeling behind Reigen and stroking himself.
He sees Reigen looking and winks, and Reigen lays his cheek on the floor, watching Sato’s feet as he wanders past. His back and shoulders are screaming at him. His breath comes faster than he’d like, but he feels like he can’t breath.
Knowing it’s coming doesn’t help. The head pushes against his rim and Reigen’s mouth falls open, exhaling harshly. He squeezes his forehead into the floor, and that takes the edge off the headache just a little. Gives him something else to focus on instead of the hands gripping his hips and the inexorable pressure of being filled.
It’s too much. He knows he’s too stiff, but he can’t force the tension from his body. Not with the way Yamamoto fills him in one go, fingers digging into Reigen’s hips like it’s the only thing holding Reigen together. It fucking hurts. His teeth grind against each other, his fingers bloodless and tangled in his shirt.
The first thrust punches through him all the way to his throat. He catches the sound there, traps it down to nothing, but the second pushes air through his nose, the third escapes into a grunt. He hears talking, a casual conversation being held over his head while he’s being fucked roughly on the floor between them all, but he can’t spare the brainpower to understand it. Every part of him is focused on containing the noises slamming against his teeth.
The cuffs around his wrists tighten, and he’s hauled backwards by it, all the force in his shoulders lifting him from the ground as his arms are forced up. His face goes red from the agony, and he drops his head, back bowing in an attempt to alleviate the pressure in his shoulders. Panting, sweat tickling the side of his nose, dampening his hair. His loose tie hangs in his face, brushing the floor.
“Fuck me, that’s good,” Yamamoto growls behind him.
“Hey, Reigen, don’t be shy. Tell us how it feels,” Takashi calls, an edge to his voice.
Right. Answering questions. Reigen’s not sure he can do that without his voice shaking, but what choice does he have? He mutters a half-assed answer at the floor, blinking away the sweat dripping over his eyes.
“What? I can’t hear you from all the way over here.”
Something pushes into his peripheral. The camera. Reigen throat’s bobs with an audible click. “F-feels good,” he says, louder, strained.
He hears a snort, not from any of the adults in the room, and he’s burning from the roots of his hair all through his spine. Inevitably, the thought creeps in, amidst the pain and gut-wrenching thrusts that have his head spinning—they must think he’s disgusting.
He pushes it aside. It’s fine. It has to be fine, because there’s nothing he can do about it, and he’d rather they think him disgusting than have them fearing that they’re next.
The sound of Yamamoto fucking him grows louder as he quickens. Reigen is too aware of every second dragging by. His shoulders go numb, but he knows that relief will be short-lived. He shuts his eyes, but can’t keep them closed—wound too tight, needing to be aware of everyone and everything in this room.
The scuff marks on the floor below him. The echo of skin on skin. Takashi’s proximity to his charges. His wrists being bitten to shreds by each yank on the cuff, keeping him from falling flat on his face again. His clothes tangled around his extremities. The vulture circling him as Nakamura films from every angle.
He thinks about the knife in Yamamoto’s pocket—but even if he could get it, what would he do with it? Threaten them with his hands behind his back? If he could get the cuffs off, it would be different, but who knows if any of them have a key, and if so, which one and where it might be on them.
It’s pointless, but better than thinking about how Yamamoto’s breaths have changed and how there are fingers digging into his ass cheek, holding him open as he’s fucked faster and faster. How his own breathing is haggard, his lungs being stabbed from the inside the longer he’s held like this.
He can feel it when Yamamoto finally orgasms, his cock twitching heavily. Reigen thinks, coldly, that when this is over he’ll have to get tested.
“You did quite well,” Sato says, and a cool hand runs down his sweat-slick back.
When Yamamoto finally pulls out, it’s with a gross, wet squelch, and Reigen feels warmth slipping down his skin, over his perineum. He shivers as he’s lowered to the floor again, and then smaller hands are touching his hips, guiding him down on his side.
It’s a relief to be off his knees, and feeling rushes up his arms in pins and needles. The white-hot of his shoulders abates some, settling to a low, simmering heat. He hisses between his teeth, fingers flexing in the rumple of his shirt.
“I think you deserve a reward.” Sato’s fingers find his wet hole. Reigen tenses as they press in, barely any resistance, but his rim is raw and sensitive and his hips jerk involuntarily.
He has no idea what Sato means by reward, not until lightning shoots through his belly and his mouth falls open on a sound he barely manages to strangle. A coiling horror sinks through him, followed by another shot of gut-roiling pleasure.
Reigen twitches, kicking the floor as if he could stop the feeling, halt the fingers pressing against his prostate. In spite of the pain that’s made a home in his limbs, the horrifying humiliation burning across his skin, his dick is filling out against his thighs.
“Oh, that was easy. You really must have been enjoying it, weren’t you, Reigen-san?” Sato prods at the spot in him, dragging his fingers over it long and slow, and Reigen’s back arches. “Well?”
“Y-yeah, fuck, yes,” he gasps, the wish that they would stop making him talk, just hurry up and get this over with, a distant star.
Sato moves leisurely—long, deep thrusts that take their time. Stoking a fire with experience and skill. Reigen’s brain is a slurry, melting in the heat that rushes up his spine, pooling out of his ears and onto the floor beneath his head.
“You’re so responsive, Reigen-san. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
The words are remote. There’s a ringing in his head, and darkness curls in at the edges of his vision. His heel digs into the floor, socks slipping, and he pushes back, without thought, pure instinct, his body chasing those skilled fingers. Even the raw ache of his rim being touched somehow feels good. Shame squeezes his gut, that sickness creeping up his throat.
His body climbs that peak desperately, relentlessly. His dick leaking against his leg, mouth agape. In the back of his mind he knows Ritsu and Teru might be watching, listening, and he can’t do anything about it. He’s going to come, he’s going to come from being fingered in front of a couple of teenagers. The thought rises and falls through his empty skull like a siren. Louder and quieter and louder again as his thighs tense.
The fingers pull out, and Reigen’s shoulders, a strict line, soften like wet sand. The sandcastle of his body slumps in on itself, heaving breaths, eyes burning. It doesn’t feel like he’s blinked this entire time.
He barely gets a moment like that, stumbling back down the slope, before there’s something bigger forcing him to it again. His back arches, and somehow the feeling of every inch of Sato sliding home is pure ecstasy. It’s both better and worse than Yamamoto. Less rough, his body sensitized from the finger fucking. He can’t stop his mouth from opening on a soft moan at how effortlessly Sato fills him.
His knee is grasped, lifted, parting his thighs to allow Sato plenty of room. Reigen’s cock positively aches, red and weeping and it hasn’t even been touched. His body shifts with a torturously slow thrust, and then his pounding head is sliced open with the brush of Sato’s cock against his prostate. It’s deliberate, controlled. He does it again, and again, and again.
Throat full of whimpers, Reigen turns his face against the floor. Teeth clamped on the inside of his cheek. It doesn’t last. His mouth pops open, moaning wetly, as Sato picks up speed and force. He’s distantly aware of Nakamura in his face, catching the flush of his skin and the drool dripping from his lips.
“This is disgusting.”
The venom in Ritsu’s voice is a burst of icy water on the flames. He blinks his eyes open, doesn’t even remember closing them. There’s no way he could reply, even if he wanted to. What would he even say?
It is disgusting. He’s disgusting, every inch of him, deriving pleasure from what they’re doing. Yet despite the tide of revulsion washing through him, it doesn’t do anything to stop the way his cock pulses. How his stomach clenches tight and he pants lowly with each thrust.
“You’re beautiful,” Sato says, and Reigen’s eyes flit up, finding Sato leaning over, watching his face as his hips move steadily against Reigen’s ass. “I almost want to keep you. You’d like that, I’m sure. I can make you feel like this every day.”
It’s nonsense, but it makes his heart stutter in his chest. They wouldn’t. They have a goal, there’s no way—but Reigen’s not even the center of this plan. He’s just a casualty. They hadn’t intended to grab him in the first place. Wrong place, wrong time.
No, right place, right time. If he hadn’t been with Teru and Ritsu—
Stop. Mob, Serizawa, someone is going to come for them. He’s just keeping them distracted. It’ll be over soon.
It’ll be over soon.
It’ll be over soon.
It- it will—
“Do you want me to stop, Reigen-san?” Sato asks, slowing to a halt almost completely. Reigen finds himself dropping hard and fast from his peak. “We can be done, if you’d like. If you’re not enjoying this.” His slick fingers touch Reigen’s shoulder, faux-concern dripping from his voice. “Just say the word, I’ll stop.”
Yes, please, end this, he thinks dazedly, angrily. It’s a trap, he knows. He can’t let it end. They want him to say it. Frustration and mortification swell within him, pressing against the back of his eyes.
He licks his parched lips, gathering his thoughts like wayward marbles. His throat is so dry, and his voice is wrecked. “Don’t stop.”
“Oh? You want more?” Sato gives a lazy thrust and Reigen’s toes curl.
“Yes, okay? Just do it,” he snaps, and even though part of it is the need for this to just be over, there’s another part, a dirty reflection he can’t look at directly, that wants to come so bad it hurts.
“Very well,” Sato purrs.
Reigen’s thoughts scatter again, back snapping ramrod straight. Sato’s cock hits his prostate with each and every stroke, hard and fast. His breath gets twisted up in his chest and his vision darkens at the edges. It doesn’t take long to build up again, the combustive materials gathering and trying desperately to spark.
His hands ache from how tight they’re balled, his wrists digging in against the cuffs hard enough to break, to split skin. His eyes roll in his head and he’s so close, so close—
It stops, abruptly, and Reigen gasps and curls in on himself. Muscles spasming, vision spinning. “Please, please, don’t—” he bites down on his pleading, but there’s no mistaking it, not for anyone in the room.
“You want it so bad. That’s cute.”
He moves, again, and Reigen’s body dares hope this will be it, racing, climbing, his dick hurts so bad. He’s wound and wounded with need, and his hips move all on their own. Pressing back eagerly, wantonly.
Sato stops him. Again. His throat is tight with frustration. He begs. He wants it. Sato praises him, and fucks him again, and stops again, and listens to Reigen begging with fond amusement, and then fucks him again.
He’s pushed to the edge again, and again, until he loses track, until he hits his peak so fast even Sato can’t stop it. Reigen’s vision blacks out, his ears ringing. For a minute he is blissfully unaware of anything except the excruciating relief, his cock twitching and releasing all over his thigh and the floor. He doesn’t even realize Sato has come as well, not until well after the man pulls out and leaves Reigen a shivering puddle on the tiles.
Every breath heaves out of him, as if he’s been running a marathon, not just laying here. His vision is tilting this way and that, and the headache he’d forgotten begins another round, building into a crescendo.
His head is so heavy with it that when he’s hauled by his arms to his feet, his chin touches his chest and he sways, one leg still caught in the tangle of his pants, socked feet slipping for purchase. His dick is soft now at the apex of his thighs, and warm fluid drips down the back of his legs. He must make a pretty pathetic sight. If he could, he’d laugh, but he’s pretty sure it would turn into a sob if he tried.
His eyes sweep the floor, finding the lube, and he wonders if the cameraman is going to take a turn.
The hand on his shoulder spins him about. Reigen goes, guided into Nakamura’s arms, the camera in—Sato’s hands, now. That answers his question.
“You don’t play around, huh, Sato?” Yamamoto says, and Reigen follows him as he exchanges places with Takashi. “He’s out of it.”
He only catches a glimpse of Ritsu and Teru before he looks away. Not enough to tell if they’re looking at him too. He can’t bear to know what kind of expressions they’re making. He drops his head again, a band of pressure wrapped around his skull.
“Don’t worry, we’ll wake the little slut up.” There’s glee in Takashi’s deep voice.
Nakamura’s arms bulge as he hooks them under Reigen’s arms and hefts him up. Reigen falls against his chest, reeling as his feet leave the ground and the room pivots on the axis of his concussion. He lets himself lose his pants with a short kick and a silent prayer.
There’s someone at his back—Takashi, lifting Reigen’s legs, helping Nakamura shift his grip to Reigen’s legs, wrapping them around Nakamura’s waist. His thighs smear come on the front of the red uniform, leaving a dark, wet spot. He’s almost too exhausted to wonder at this weird position, and then the cock at his tender hole distracts him. There’s not much resistance as it pushes in, and Nakamura sighs heavily in his ear.
It’s not so bad. His pink tie sticks wetly to his skin. He drops his forehead to the man’s shoulder, wishing his arms were free so he could hold on, not feel like he’s about to fall off into nothing. It’s almost over. He can do this. He takes a deep breath, and another, waiting for Nakamura to move.
Instead, fingers probe at his red rim. Nakamura leans back, giving Takashi a better angle, and Reigen flinches as a thick finger squeezes in next to Nakamura. Takashi’s cock grazes his ass, smearing fluids as he works a second in alongside it. Pulling, stretching him.
Reigen chokes, a twinge lancing up his spine, head rising and back arching as if he could get away. He’s pulled open, and open, until the head of Takashi’s cock rubs across the curve of his ass, pressing into that small space he’s created behind Nakamura.
“No, h-hang on wait, wait— I can’t—” Breath hitching as he’s stretched, too much, he’s already so full. He’s going to break. He’s going to—
“Yeah you can, baby,” Nakamura says over Reigen’s babbling, squeezing Reigen’s thighs. “Open up for us, that’s it, shh.”
He can’t. He can’t he can’t he can’t. His mouth drops open as Takashi forces his way in. It’s too much. He can almost feel the cracks spidering up his insides, shattering his nerves. The fingers pull and Takashi presses, relentless. His throat hurts so much. His eyes squeeze shut but the tears come anyways. He drops forward again, shoulders shaking, chest filled with glass. His lungs burn.
Oh, he’s screaming.
The sound dies because he runs out of air, and when he takes his next, too short breath, it comes out begging.
“Please, please, don’t, don’t do this, it h-hurts! F-Fuck!” His voice breaks.
“What, you don’t want it?” Takashi says, all faux-disappointment and resignation. “Got a couple of holes to stick in instead if you really changed your mind.”
It cuts through the shock and pain, and he backtracks quickly. “No, no, I do want it, please .” The last word is nothing but a sob.
“That’s a good boy,” Nakamura croons, lifting Reigen.
His breath catches as he’s dragged up the length of the two cocks filling him. Then Nakamura lets gravity do the work, forcing him back down. Reigen catches his cheek between his teeth, tasting copper. He can’t hold it in for long, though. Not with the way he breaks a little more each time he’s moved, shifted up and down, more of Takashi fitting in him each time.
His cries are hoarse, but when they ask him if they should stop, if he wants this to end, Reigen fights the hideous, selfish desire to give in. He’s so pathetic, insensitive, self-serving. How could he even think that.
“I can take it, I can take it,” he sobs raggedly instead, vision blurred with tears. The truth is, he’s not sure he can.
But he manages to claw the impulse to say otherwise back down into his chest. Lets himself be fucked into harshly, lets his pounding head fall back when Takashi shifts Reigen back against his chest. It stretches him in a new, even more agonizing way as he feels the base of Takashi’s cock against his ass. He keens low in his throat, staring up at the ceiling through wet lashes.
“Maybe it’s a good thing you took that swing at me. We’d be missing out otherwise,” Takashi says at his ear, deep and stifling. “Not sure either of these two could manage this. We might have actually killed one of them.”
It is a good thing. He’d do it again, without a thought. He just wishes he’d been stronger, quicker. That he hadn’t let them get taken at all.
He knows Nakamura is close by the way the man’s brows scrunch and a flush comes over his nose and forehead. He holds Reigen still, hips moving rapidly, puffing steam engine breaths across Reigen’s chest. He goes still, fingers digging into Reigen’s thighs, blunt, ragged nails tearing his skin.
When Nakamura pulls out, and away, Reigen whimpers as his rim feels like it’s being scraped over. His legs drop, boneless, heels hitting the ground with a hard thump he can feel through his hips. It’s only Takashi’s grip on him that stops him from compounding his concussion. Nakamura steps back, pinkish semen foaming around the head of his softening dick. Takashi pulls out next, and that’s easier at least, with how loose he is.
He’s lowered to the ground, and Reigen falls on his side, chest heaving, a tremble working it’s way up his arms and down his legs. Takashi kneels over him, cock in hand, and Reigen tries to curl in on himself, but a hand on his shoulder arrests the motion. He watches through wet lashes as Takashi works himself vigorously, looking down at Reigen with that same expression from before. As if he could peer inside Reigen through the portal of his irises and break apart everything inside him.
Reigen wants to tell him he doesn’t have to—it’s already done.
A jet of come hits his face, and Reigen just shuts his eyes. Another hits his chin, the last dripping slowly onto his chest as Takashi directs it over him. Marking his territory.
“There we go. That pretty little face looks even better. Now, what do you say, since we were so nice and did what you wanted?” He watches Reigen intently, expectantly.
Reigen drops his head to the floor, shivering, tears dripping over his nose and into his soaked hair line. “Thank you,” he mumbles.
“You’re very welcome,” Takashi says in the most patronizing tone possible. Seemingly satisfied, he stands swiftly, tucking himself away in those ridiculous red pants. “Someone will be by to bring you some water for your good behavior.”
The others follow his lead. The camera light goes dim, and they zip themselves up, herding around the door in short manner. Yamamoto turns to sneer at the occupants of the room, daring any of them to try it.
Reigen doesn’t watch them leave. Instead, he focuses on breathing, on trying to stop the tears. His skull feels like a watermelon wrapped in a hundred rubber bands. He needs to calm down, stop letting the panic seize the inside of his skin and pull inwards.
He hears hesitant shuffling on the other side of the room, and a timid voice says, “Reigen-san?”
Sniffing hard, Reigen strains his neck to wipe his face on his shoulders, anything to get the sticky come off. He’s got to get it together. The worst is over, for now, but he’s still got to deal with being the star of the most traumatizing moment either of these two have probably ever experienced. They’re all still captives.
It takes him another, long minute, maybe two, to swallow anymore tears and suck the snot back into his nose. The remains of his pride is a wet lump wedged in his throat, but he takes a breath and tries to ease it down. He pushes up awkwardly, elbows loose and trembly. His eyes are red and a tremor rattles his shoulders. They hurt, but then, what doesn’t?
He looks at Ritsu and Teru, or more accurately, he looks at the far wall over their shoulders, but if he’s learned anything, it’s that people often can’t tell the difference. The illusion of eye contact is better than the real thing. He knows he won’t be able to keep his emotions in check if he does. It’s agony to be upright, to have any weight on his lower half, and he can’t hold in his winces.
“Okay… that wasn’t so bad,” he manages, but the foundation of his voice is cracked and crumbling. He dredges up a reassuring smile to aim in their direction. It feels like tacky glue.
Their gazes burn right through him, and he’s trying hard not to think about how this looks from their point of view. He glances around instead, busying himself so he doesn’t have to not-look at them looking at him anymore. His pants and underwear are only a couple of feet away, and after a moment to brace himself, he scoots towards them across the floor, grimacing at the excruciating lance that drives up his spine.
Both of the kids are dead silent, their gazes an uneasy thing boring into his temple. He pretends to be unaware, dragging his pants close to him, craning his head around to see what he’s doing. Feeling around until he encounters a solid shape, and digging through the fabric. A quiet relief lifts some of the weight from his chest.
“Reigen-san,” Teru says, that same timid, almost fearful tone.
Reigen hates hearing it on him. He’s far too young to have witnessed something like that. Reigen should have done more, argued harder, been more persuasive. At the very least, he shouldn’t have panicked and scared them. He clears his throat, but doesn’t look up. “Sorry you had to see that, H-Hanazawa-kun. I’ll have to make it up to you guys when we get out of here, alright? Well, might be kinda hard to make up for this, but you know what I mean.”
He’s just bullshitting, just saying words to sound normal. He can’t even think of what this will all look like afterwards. There’s no way they’ll want to set foot around him again. He wipes his cheek on his shoulder again, the breath shuddering out of him. Think about it later. They’re not done yet.
He pops the cap with unsteady fingers, and squeezes a liberal amount into his palm. It’s cold as he works it up his hand and wrist, and around the inside of the cuff with the tip of his pinky. He knows it’s going to hurt regardless though.
Dropping the tube, he wipes as much of the lube off his fingers and onto his pants as he can. Then he grips the cuff to hold it in place, inhales deeply, and pulls. It squeezes up the meat of his palm, funneling it through the tight circle of the cuff until it encounters the hump of his thumb.
“Reigen-san?”
One of the kids is moving toward him, caught in brief glimpses between Reigen’s mussed bangs. The pressure on his hand is almost unbearable as he scrapes the cuff back and forth, trying to ease it over. It’s unyielding.
Almost.
It’s going to hurt, he knows that much. But it’s easier to think of this hurt than the others. He’s read books and seen movies where tough guys dislocate or break their thumb to escape handcuffs, but he has no idea if that’s even possible, or if it’s exactly what he’s about to do.
“Hey,” he breathes. “Sorry if I scream again.”
The nerves in his hand shriek as he applies force. His fingertips numbing with the effort of keeping the cuff steady. He cocks his elbow out, pulling from shoulder to wrist. It squeezes by millimeters up his knuckle, and then with a sharp curse, it rips over Reigen’s hand.
“Holy shit,” Ritsu says softly.
The cuff dangles from one wrist, and Reigen collapses back onto the floor, panting, holding his hands in front of him, against his chest. Blood, not too much, slicks his wrists and bruised knuckles. There’s a throbbing deep in his thumb, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t break it. Or even dislocate. Lucky him, he thinks, without a trace of humor.
He glances towards them by reflex, and finds Ritsu staring back at him with big, glossy eyes. He’s seen Ritsu nervous, angry, excited, annoyed, happy, even scared—but he’s never seen Ritsu cry before. Reigen’s smile wobbles. His own face is still smeared in semen despite his best attempts to clean it. He must be awful to look at.
“Reigen,” Ritsu starts, and worse, his voice is cracked and broken. “Reigen, I didn’t—”
Reigen’s own eyes sting anew, but he can’t let them see him cry again. He blinks hard, lets his smile soften as he pushes himself up from the floor again. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna get us out of here. Excellent escape plan, remember?”
Ritsu and Teru both stare at him with wide eyes, and Ritsu’s mouth opens, then closes. His lower lip trembles, but his eyebrows furrow and he nods.
Teru’s expression darkens, and he nods as well. “Do you need some help, Reigen-san?” He looks angry, not something Reigen has ever seen on his normally light, care-free face.
Angry at him? He doesn’t think so, but the thought flits through him regardless. He swallows, and says, “Thanks, but I got it.” It’s not pride that prevents him from accepting help—what pride does he have left?—just a need to keep them from seeing anything more than they have to.
The first thing he does is pull his shirt over his shoulders, covering the bruises forming on his hips and outer thighs. His shoulders ache from the motion, and he’s too aware of the kids watching him. He finds the first button, does it up with slow, trembling fingers, being careful to keep his right thumb as still as possible. The second is gone, lost on the ground somewhere. So is the fourth and the fifth. His breath hitches and he swallows thickly. Fixing his tie in place and smoothing his hand down the front when he’s done all he can, before wiping his face off on the sleeve.
The next order of business is pants and underwear. He doesn’t bother standing—he knows he won’t be able to do this standing up. He slides them on, grunting when stretching pulls at his backside. Lifting his hips awkwardly to shimmy them up his hips. He’s too tired and sore to be embarrassed about what a pathetic sight he must make. They’ve already seen the worst of him, after all.
He has to stand up eventually though. When he gets to his knees and lifts a leg to push up, it’s like a shard of glass scrapes down his backside. He can’t hold in the sound, and both of the kids take a step towards him, hands out.
He forces himself up under their eyes. He feels like a broken gyroscope, body moving one way, vision tilting the other, as if he’s about to fall over. Shutting his eyes, he waits for the dizziness to pass, and when he opens them, Teru’s expression is angry again.
“Okay, we don’t have long. They’re coming back soon. Here’s the plan.” It’s good to be thinking of something else, distracting them from what happened. He hates to rely on the kids like this, but he’s pretty sure once they’re out of this room, he’s going to be virtually useless.
For once, Ritsu says nothing about Reigen’s flimsy excuses about not exactly being at full power. No snark or snipes about how he’s a fraud. He just stares at Reigen solemnly, nodding at each step. It sends a stone of guilt crashing through the facade Reigen has managed to piece together. How can he ever make this right for them?
The plan is simple, and it goes off without a hitch. When the door opens, Reigen, behind it, waits for the first guy to step in before swinging around it and wrapping the cuff around the guy’s neck, jerking him into the room. Water bottles bounce off the floor and roll among their tangoing feet. The man chokes, reaching back to claw at Reigen’s face. The second guy reaches for the door, but it’s too late. The full-body tackle from two middle-schoolers carries them all out of the room, and to Reigen’s relief, he feels the electric crackle in the air of psychic energy.
The sharp metal bites against his wrist, tearing the soft skin further. Listening to the man gag and feeling the fist in his hair, ripping viciously at his scalp. His eyes prick with tears of pain as the tender wound on his head reopens, blood slipping hot down his temple, twisting with the man’s thrashing, heart slamming against his ribs.
When the man’s movements begin to slow, and the hand in Reigen’s hair slips free, he holds it only a few more moments before letting go. The man slumps to the ground, clutching his throat, breath whistling audibly. Reigen throws himself through the door and slams it shut.
Outside, the halls are white and strangely familiar—all these Claw bases must be built the same, because otherwise Reigen would think he was back there again. There are two pairs of handcuffs on the ground, and Reigen watches as Ritsu and Teru raise their arms as one, the man in their telekinetic hold rising to the ceiling. Their hands slice downwards and he slams into the floor, the tile cracking brutally.
Ritsu’s chest rises and falls rapidly. Reigen wants to reach out, ask if he’s okay, but he holds himself back. Ritsu has never appreciated his concern, and right now, hearing it come from Reigen might just piss him off more.
Teru, thankfully, nudges Ritsu’s arm and says, “Hey, you alright?”
“Yeah. Let’s just take care of these assholes already and get out of here.”
The adrenaline is wearing off, and Reigen leans against the plain wall, panting, sweat dripping down his temple. He’s not sure he can stay standing much longer, and as he has that thought, his knees turn to jelly.
“Reigen-san!” Teru darts to his side, Ritsu right behind him, and crouches. He reaches out, and Reigen’s throat clenches at the tremble in his fingers, the way he pulls back at the last second. “You’re bleeding.”
He wipes his temple and the white sleeve comes away red—there’s a lot, but head wounds bleed a lot after all. It’s not that bad. He’s been good this long, he’ll be alright until they get out of here.
“Sorry, I need a minute. Or a few. Let me just sit here.” He’s so out of breath, and he puts a hand to his chest, feeling the wild gallop of his heart against his palm.
“Whoa, what the hell happened to you?”
As one, all three of their heads whip up. A green glow descends from the ceiling, and Reigen has never in his life been more thankful to see the sour face of the little, snot-like spirit. It’s a physical thing, and his head thumps against the wall, cheek twitching. He doesn’t know if he’s going to smile or cry again.
“Dimple!” Ritsu says. “Where’s Shigeo? Is he coming?”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s on the way. He’s pissed too, by the way. Serizawa’s with him as well, and some of those Claw guys. The one with the gun, and the punchy bastard.”
“You mean Koyama and Sakurai?” Teru asks. “Why those guys?”
“They’re the ones who told us you’d been taken. We didn’t have any idea until they tracked Serizawa down and he came and got us. Said they had old Claw contacts who let it slip.” Dimple floats lower, until he’s eye level with the kids. “They’ve also got some government types with them. Serizawa called them, said they’re interested in any Claw cells still in operation. So you’ve got a whole rescue team coming—though it looks like we shouldn’t have bothered.” He gestures to the guy passed out on the floor.
“Reigen-san got us out,” Teru says, voice quiet.
“Surprised you were any use. What, did they just let you walk out the door?” He sneers in Reigen’s direction, but the familiar ribbing is almost comforting. “Seriously, how dumb are they to let a guy like you escape?”
“Dimple,” Ritsu says, and Reigen is shocked at the venom in his voice and the vicious glare he pins Dimple with. “Shut. Up.”
“Hey, chill out, I was just joking! What’s his problem?” Dimple floats away from the kid, side-eyeing him before turning to Reigen, still on the floor. “And seriously, you look like shit. What happened?”
He imagines he must look terrible, even with his clothes on and his face relatively clean. He’s still sweating and his eyes are hot. He’s having a hard time slowing his breaths. “Nothing, just got a little roughed up. But I’ll be good to go in a minute.”
Teru and Ritsu share a look, and Dimple notices it. He must notice, too, Ritsu’s red eyes and Teru’s shaking hands, because he looks at Reigen again questioningly. Reigen pretends not to see.
“I doubt you have a minute, if these guys know you’re out. Come on, we can meet Shigeo and the others outside,” Dimple says, and starts to float off, presumably in the direction of the exit.
Reigen pushes up, but his elbows buckle and he falls back against the wall, stomach churning. “Hold on, just give me a sec.”
“Need some help?” Dimple returns, floating down to his level, and there’s no sign of any sarcasm on his face. He almost looks worried. “Much as I’m loath to put myself into that greasy body of yours, I can walk us out of here in no time.”
“No, that’s alright!” Reigen says quickly, waving a hand in Dimple’s face. His thumb protests the motion. He does not want the booger in his head, possibly hearing his thoughts and feeling what his body feels right now. “I’m good, see?” This time he’s more forceful as he pushes up even as black seeps in at the edge of his vision. He gets his legs under him, using the wall to balance.
Dimple’s little fists rest on his gaseous body, and he looks at Reigen critically once he’s on his feet. “No way, you’re gonna pass out like that. Or what, there something you don’t want me to know about?” He smirks when Reigen’s face blanches. “There is!”
“Dimple, knock it off,” Teru chimes in.
“Hold on, just let me…”
He moves in, and Reigen flinches back, bouncing against the wall, hand shooting up. It passes uselessly through Dimple’s body, and before the “No!” can finish bursting out of him, Dimple is gone. The feeling is familiar, despite Reigen only having experienced it once before. A soap bubble popping against his face, spreading over him from the point of contact.
His hand moves of its own volition. Panic jolts up Reigen’s spine, and it’s so fucking hard not to think about the aches in his body and what caused them. He has no idea whether Dimple can hear his thoughts or not, but he doesn’t want to test it. Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe he can’t tell.
"Holy shit,” his mouth says. “What the fuck, Reigen. How are you standing right now? Your head is fucking killing me.”
“What’s wrong with his head?” Ritsu asks, brows knit tight.
Dimple lifts a hand, skimming it through his hair. Reigen hisses as he parts the strands, pulling it from where it had matted against a wound. His fingers come away red. “You’ve got a hell of a concussion right now. You need to go to a hospital.”
Is that all he can tell? That Reigen’s got a concussion? He exhales softly, but the relief doesn’t last long. Dimple takes one step, and then freezes at the shock of pain from his lower half. He can feel Dimple cycle through surprise, realization, and revolt.
It’s like a punch in the gut, that feeling. Revolt, for him.
“Reigen, this is a hell of a lot more than just ‘roughed up,’” Dimple says with Reigen’s mouth, grim.
Teru and Ritsu look back at them silently. That anger, like nothing Reigen’s ever seen, is on Teru’s face again. Ritsu looks away, but his chin trembles and he scrubs his arm over his eyes.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Reigen says, heart squeezing painfully in his chest.
Neither of them look like they believe him.
—
They encounter resistance along the way. Reigen lets Dimple do all the talking and walking, and Ritsu and Teru handle all the throwing people around. Sometimes, Reigen feels like they put a little more force than necessary into dispatching the mediocre espers that get in their way, but for once he says nothing.
With someone else in control, making sure the kids are getting out of this place, it’s harder to fight off the weight of exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket. He has to struggle against the urge to just shut down and let Dimple do whatever. The cuff swings uneasily from his wrist, bumping his thigh with each step.
When they get outside, Reigen realizes this place is more than just similar to the last Claw base he was in—it is the same base. Probably rebuilt in the months before Claw moved with their world domination plan. It’s dark outside, but he recognizes the clearing around the square building and the path he’d walked twice, once alone, and again with a gaggle of teenagers at his side. The soft, cool earth feels strange through his socks.
They’re greeted by vehicles roaring up that path—multiple windowless black vans, their headlights blinding as they kick up dirt and grass. They pull to a stop one after the other, spotlighting the three of them standing outside the entrance.
“Ritsu!” comes a familiar voice as the door of the foremost van opens, and then Mob is jogging towards them.
“Shige!” Ritsu jerks like he’s about to take off, but he hesitates, looks to Reigen as if to check something, and simply stays close, letting Mob close the distance.
Serizawa steps out from the same van, following swiftly. From the backs of the vehicles, several people in dark outfits file out and swarm past them and into the base. Dimple keeps Reigen moving through the flow of people, with Ritsu and Teru by his side. Mob meets Ritsu, and Ritsu throws his arms around his brother, which seems to startle Mob, but only for a second. He quickly returns it.
Serizawa slows as he reaches Reigen, voice going a mile a minute, fingers white-knuckled around the handle of an umbrella. “Reigen-san! I was so worried when Koyama and Sakurai told me you’d been taken!” There’s a fresh growth of stubble on his chin and jaw, and he looks rumpled and scattered. “I went and got Shigeo, but I know you don’t like it when adults make kids handle this kind of stuff, so I called these people from the government too! I thought you guys might be in real danger, but it looks like everyone’s all right, and I’m so relieved!” He looks close to tears, twisting the umbrella handle anxiously.
“Thanks, Serizawa,” Reigen says quietly. “You made the right call.” He’s glad there’s someone here who has the authority to deal with these guys, and he feels a flash of pride and warmth for Serizawa, but it’s faint.
Everything feels that way. The relief, that they’re out, that this is over, that Ritsu and Teru are actually safe now, that he can present Mob’s brother and best friend to him and show him that Reigen did his best—it’s as if he’s behind a thick pane of glass. The possession, maybe, but he doesn’t remember it feeling like this.
“Hey, Reigen, everything okay in there?” Dimple’s voice rings through his mind, echoing, and he doesn’t even have the energy to wince at the spasm across his skull.
“Yeah. They’re safe now.”
“I meant you, dumbass.”
He hums in acknowledgment, doesn’t feel like talking right now.
From another van, he sees those two former Claw guys emerge. There’s a guy in a jacket, light colored hair shorn close to his scalp, climbing out of the driver’s side of the same van Mob and Serizawa came from, and Dimple addresses him loudly.
“Hey, you got a medic with you? This guy needs a hospital.”
“Shishou?” Mob turns, looking over at them. “Is Teru okay?”
“No, not him, Reigen,” Dimple says, gesturing at himself.
“Dimple? What happened?” Mob breaks away from the hug, looking to Ritsu.
“Hey, is everyone alright!” Koyama’s loud voice rings over them.
The whole scene feels weird, blurry, distant. The lights in his eyes aren’t helping any.
“He has a concussion, and he’s bleeding,” Teru says.
“Did someone hurt him? Did they hurt you two?”
“No, it’s fine,” Reigen says, tongue not quite cooperating, but he doesn’t want to worry Mob. The kid's been through enough tonight, worrying about their disappearance. Then, stronger, “He’s about to pass out. Come on, you got a medic or what?”
Reigen blinks heavily, forcing his eyes open each time they want to slide shut. The man in the jacket nods sharply, turning to gesture at two more people climbing out of another van.
“Shishou?” Mob says, and Reigen looks to his left, where Mob is giving him a look that, on anyone else, might have been deadpan. On Mob, it looks furious. His hair lifts from his forehead in soft waves of power. “What happened?”
It takes him a moment to lift his thick tongue. His lips have gone numb. “It’s alright, Mob, I made sure they’re okay.” He reaches out, to grab Mob’s shoulder, and misses, pitching down into nothing.