𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐢𝐧 X Reader (Dark/Angst)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ✶ 𝟏𝟒

The next few weeks with Ritsu are... surreal. It's a delicate balance, a tenuous thread between satisfaction and guilt. He's here, in your space, in your life, and though everything about it feels wrong, you can't deny the heady rush it gives you. The control. The power.

You try to remind yourself that this will never be okay. That it's temporary. But your resolve weakens every time you catch a glimpse of him nervously glancing your way, like you're his sun and he's orbiting too close, afraid you'll burn him if he strays.

From the moment he arrived, a routine developed naturally. He started doing housework on day one, scrubbing the counters, folding laundry, as though he was desperately trying to earn his keep. "I just... I want to be useful," he had stammered when you asked why. His wide, pleading eyes had said more than his words ever could.

You didn't stop him. You should have, but instead, you watched him work, taking in every frantic movement as if his worth depended on how spotless he could make your space. It was disturbing, but a part of you... liked it. Liked the way he scurried around, fixing things, tidying up your messes. It was like having a little servant who lived to make you happy. The thought was grotesque, but you couldn't shake the small, twisted smile that tugged at your lips whenever you watched him.

He stayed out of your way for the most part, but there was always that lingering presence, like a shadow following you from room to room. His eyes would flit to you every time you moved, as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he looked away for too long. Still, he wasn't too overbearing. When you needed space, he gave it. He'd slink off into the spare bedroom or the living room, always making himself scarce when you seemed overwhelmed.

But when you came back...

He was there. Eager. Waiting.

It didn't take long before things between you crossed that line. You weren't surprised, not really. With him clinging to you so desperately, seeking your comfort and approval, it was inevitable. The tension had been thick from the moment you let him inside, and soon enough, it snapped. The first time it happened, neither of you spoke about it. He had looked at you with such need, and you—well, you were weak. The way his body felt beneath your hands, how he trembled and gasped, it had been intoxicating. He let you take whatever you wanted from him, and that was dangerous.

It felt good to have him like that, to have him need you so entirely. But it also felt wrong. So very, very wrong.

In the quiet aftermath, Ritsu curled against you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your chest. He didn't say much. Just smiled at you—this soft, small smile that only made the knot in your stomach tighten. You hadn't forced him, not exactly. But he'd been so eager to please you, so ready to let you take what you wanted. It made your skin crawl.

He's doing it because he knows he's on thin ice, you told yourself. He's scared you'll kick him out.

And maybe that was true. Maybe he was terrified that if he didn't give you everything, you'd throw him back into that hellish life he'd run from. But was that all it was?

You didn't ask. You didn't want to know the answer.

The sex was dangerous for more reasons than one. It wasn't just the physical act. It was what it represented—the dynamic between you two, the ever-growing dependency. Ritsu loved it. He loved pleasing you, loved letting you touch him in any way you wanted. It was sickening how much he adored being at your mercy. And the worst part was... you loved it too. You loved the power it gave you over him, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing holding him together.

But it was unsustainable. You couldn't live like this forever.

He was still nervous, though. Always nervous. His hands would tremble when you asked him to pass you something, his words stuttered and shaky whenever he tried to have a conversation. He was a mess of anxiety, his body stiff with stress every second he wasn't right by your side. He tripped over his words, fidgeted constantly, and you could see the cracks in him—the fear that if he made one wrong move, you'd throw him away.