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lovetaroandtaemin · 2 days ago

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Firsts

Lee Seokmin x Reader

Word Count: 1,506

Genre: Pure fluff

Rating: PG, however I still ask that minors DNI with my blog.

Summary: Y/N and Seokmin celebrate their fifth anniversary with old memories and new surprises.

Content warnings: A tiny bit of anxiety over finding the perfect gift. If you think there's something else that needs a warning, let me know!

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for the absolutely wonderful @miniseokminnies. Happy birthday, Bennie!!! Your friendship means so much to me. I hope your day is as special as you are!!!!

Taglist: @xomakara, @notyourjaem, @heechwe, @shadowkoo

Fic is under the cut.

You always sort of hated your anniversary. Not because you didn’t enjoy celebrating another year with Seokmin, of course. You loved every moment with him. But, if you were completely honest, you always struggled to pick the right gift for him. It didn’t exactly help that your boyfriend was so good at choosing gifts, either. Every anniversary, Christmas, and birthday left you amazed by how well he knew you, and every celebration ended with you wondering how the hell you got lucky enough to be loved by someone like him. That’s why you were determined to find the perfect gift for your five-year anniversary. After all, five years was a big deal to both of you, and you wanted Seokmin to know just how much you loved and appreciated him.

Of course, finding the perfect anniversary gift was easier said than done. You’d spent countless hours wandering through various stores in your city, looking for something that Seokmin would actually like. Every store that you looked in had the same boring stuffed animals and cheesy cards that both you and Seokmin hated. After leaving your fifth store, you were starting to lose hope that you’d figure something out.

When the idea for Seokmin’s gift finally came, you weren’t expecting it at all. You had a rare day off from work, and you were sitting on your couch scrolling through your photos, since there was nothing productive that you needed to do. You’d made it far enough back into your phone gallery to find photos like the one you’d taken of him on your first date, various pictures that you both had taken of each other on your first anniversary, and countless others that captured your favorite moments in your time with Seokmin. That was when you had the idea to print some of your favorite photos and put them in an album for him. It was different from the other gifts you’d bought or made for him in the past, but that was exactly why you were so sure that he would love it.

Since you had quite a bit of time before Seokmin would be back home from work, you went to your local craft store and bought a photo album. When you got home, you checked to see if your boyfriend was back at your shared apartment yet. When you couldn’t find him anywhere, you went to your home office and started printing the photos you’d selected. Once you had all of the photos printed, you started to arrange them in the album. After all of the photos were arranged the way you wanted, you wrote the following note on the inside of the album’s cover:

“My darling Seokmin,

Thank you for the best five years of my life. Every moment that I’ve had the pleasure of being loved by you has made every heartbreak before you worth it. I hope that you enjoy looking back at all the memories currently stored in this album as much as I have, and I hope that we get to continue to fill it with even more memories of us.

Happy anniversary, my love.”

Once you were done writing, you signed your name, and the gift was ready. As you admired the album, you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for choosing a gift that was both beautiful and sentimental, just like Seokmin’s always were.

About a week later, your anniversary finally arrived, and you woke up to Seokmin’s voice whispering, “Happy anniversary, baby. I love you so much.”

With a gentle smile on your face, you hugged your boyfriend tighter and said, “I love you too. Happy anniversary.”

Not wanting to let go of each other and start your morning routines, the two of you held each other close while a comfortable silence took over the room. One of the many things that you loved about Seokmin was that you didn’t feel pressured to fill the space with words when you were with him. His presence was all you needed.

You almost started to fall asleep before Seokmin asked, “Hey, what time do you have to be at work?”

That was when you sat up and grinned, answering, “I don’t. I took today off since you told me you had a day off too. We get to spend the whole day together.”

Seokmin almost knocked you over with the force of the hug that he gave you as he said, “God, you have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve missed lazy days with you.”

“I have too.”

For a long time after that, the two of you stayed in bed together, enjoying each other’s company while the world around you seemed to stand still. Every time you looked into Seokmin’s eyes, you couldn’t help but think about how grateful you were that his eyes were almost always the first thing you saw in the morning and how badly you wanted that to be the case forever.

As much as you loved just staying in bed with Seokmin, after a while, you started to get a little bit restless. You tried to just relax and enjoy the moment, but you were so excited about the album that you’d put together, you felt like you were going to explode if you didn’t get to give it to him soon.

Seokmin noticed that you were getting restless and asked, “How about we get up, baby?” You happily agreed, and you both got out of bed and went about your typical morning routines, minus getting ready for work.

Once you were both out of bed and felt like functioning humans again, the first thing you asked was, “Can I give you your gift now?”

With a soft laugh, Seokmin answered, “Sure, baby.”

That was when you ran back to your room to pull the album out of its hiding place in your purse. When you got back to where Seokmin sat in your living room, you grinned and handed it to him, asking, “What do you think?”

Seokmin opened the album and read your note, and with tears starting to form in his eyes, he said, “I love it. Thank you, baby.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As Seokmin started to flip through the album, he noticed a specific picture and asked, “Hey, isn’t this one from the day you moved in with me?”

“Yeah, it is. We’d just gotten all of my stuff inside, and you insisted on taking a picture of me to celebrate that I was officially moved in.”

“I was so excited.”

“Wow. ‘Was?’ I’m hurt, Seokmin,” you said with a laugh.

“Oh, shush. You know that I love you.”

“Yes I do.”

You continued to watch Seokmin flip through the book, and when he stopped on a specific picture, he turned to you and asked, “When did you take this?”

“Our first date. You asked me to take the photo before we went into the restaurant because you were proud of yourself for actually putting together a nice outfit instead of panicking and throwing on whatever you found in your closet,” you answered with a laugh.

“Oh my god, I forgot about that! I can’t believe you kept that photo.”

“I was going to delete it after I sent it to you, but I forgot. Then, we started to get more serious, and I didn’t want to delete it anymore. It’s the only time I’ve ever been happy that I forgot to do something.”

You and Seokmin continued to flip through your album together and reminisce about your relationship. You remembered every moment, from your first kiss to his first time meeting your family and the first time you spent the night at his apartment prior to moving in together, and all you could think about was how happy you were that you got to have all of those precious moments with him. As you laughed with him about falling out of bed the night after you moved in, you couldn’t help but think that you wanted to spend every moment with him for the rest of your life.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you finished looking through the album and Seokmin asked, “Can I give you your gift now?” You nodded, and he stood in front of you before getting down on one knee, opening a small box that he’d tucked into his pocket when you weren’t looking, and saying, “(Y/N), the past five years have been the best of my life. Every moment I’ve had with you so far has made me happier than words could ever say, and all I’ve been able to think about today is how badly I want to spend every moment of my life by your side. Will you marry me?”

You nodded again, tears filling your eyes as you said, “Yes!”

Seokmin immediately stood up and placed the delicate ring on your finger before pulling you close and saying, “I can’t wait to celebrate more firsts with you.”

Thank you everyone for reading! I hope that you all liked the fic. If you did, please make sure to like and reblog! If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist can be found here. If you wanna see what I'm working on, my upcoming works list is here. If you'd like to be tagged whenever I upload a new fic, my taglist form is here!

Thank you again for reading, and happy birthday, Bennie!!!

#kvanity #keopihausnet #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #dk fic #dk imagines #dk x reader #dk fluff #birthday fic

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slttygeto · 19 hours ago

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༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 09: nothing but strangers in a bed.

preview: " He wants to see, hear and feel everything. The slight twitch to your lips as he starts to thrust in and out of you at an achingly slow pace, the breathy moan as his pubic hair brushes against your sensitive clit and the flutter to your pussy when he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Being in bed with you, fucking you like this, was beginning to shake Hanma’s unwavering belief that God didn’t exist. "

content warning: a very long chapter, lots and lots and lots of smut, this is filthy, dirty talk, choking, reader likes the idea of getting caught. (and you have a cat, his name is kenta)

word count: 10,1k (she's a long one)

༉‧₊˚. note: second chapter of the year :)! thank you once again to my amazing best friend @aurelianamu for being my beta reader and helping me fix areas that needed serious editing! i won't yap for too long, this isn't my best work but I am improving and I need this story to be as frustrating as it can be. enjoy the introduction of a certain character ;)

༉‧₊˚. reblogs + comments are really appreciated!

➜ MASTERLIST

The neon glow of Shinjuku flickered below your feet as you peeked your head over the edge of the rooftop. Your brothers were going to kill you, you were certain of that.

The city hummed an unfamiliar tune, one you would never be able to catch from the balcony of your room in Roppongi. Passing cars, screeching trains, distant shouts—Kabukicho was filled with night owls, different from the ones you’ve heard in Roppongi. You can see Hanma’s motorcycle parked at the entrance of the abandoned building, the purple cheetah print visible even in the dark night.

“Come on.”

You almost scream when you hear his voice, holding a hand to your chest as you exhale. You look up at him, a tall and imposing figure seeming intimidating as your eyes scan his long limbs and the confident smirk on his face. This was his idea, a way for you to live your life for once without the suffocating grip of your brothers. He extends his hand out to you and you grab it as you step onto the edge of the rooftop.

It’s spacious enough for you to stand behind Hanma, peeking over his shoulder.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Your hand grips the hem of Hanma’s white tee, scared and trembling as you hide behind the taller male.

“Of course, doll. You don’t trust me?” He flashes you a grin, one that doesn’t seem to ease your anxiety as your other hand grabs onto the fabric of his shirt. No answer is an answer.

Hanma, although reckless and seemingly intolerant of other people’s bullshit, reaches his hand and wraps it around your left wrist. You gasp, trying to ignore the soft flutter in your heart as you look up at him.

“You gotta trust me.”

“...I’ve never done anything like this before.” You whisper the confession, voice small and laced with a hint of shame. If it were any other person, Hanma would’ve cackled so loud, letting the person know how ridiculous they sounded. But this was you, and you were holding onto him like a lifeline. He couldn’t brush off how important he felt considering he managed to convince you to sneak out and risk getting scolded by your brothers.

“I know,” slowly, he pulls you towards the front and grips your biceps. “But it’s worth it.”

“Holy–!” you gasp, closing your eyes fast as you ball your hands in fists. “Oh my god, oh my god Shuji that’s high!”

A low chuckle rumbles from the deepest parts of Hanma’s chest as you press your back against it, your hands gripping his shirt for support.

“I know, isn’t that so fun?”

“Fun?!” You exclaim, whipping your head back to stare at him. “This is—” Before you could finish your sentence, Shuji’s hand grips your jaw and forces you to stare forward, then you finally see it.

What he had been telling you about since your first meeting, the view from the abandoned building in Kabukicho, the city lights and the freedom that comes with standing at the edge of the rooftop. You weren’t sure how to describe Hanma beside the term “adrenaline junkie”, but you couldn’t deny it—you were starting to understand.

What a breathtaking view.

“I feel dizzy.”

The teenager doesn’t believe you at first, he thinks you’re being dramatic, acting like the spoiled princess who lives in Roppongi. However, when he feels your hands tremble and then your hold on his shirt weakens, he quickly pulls you against him and off the edge of the rooftop.

You melt against him, and Hanma’s hand travels up to your face as his eyes dart across your features. From your soft lips, your closed eyes to your furrowed eyebrows, Shuji doesn’t like the flutter in his chest one bit. And the gentle hold he has on your jaw turns into a playful tap to your cheek.

“Ouch—”

“You should be an actress.”

“No,” you shoot him a glare but make no attempt to let go of him. “That was genuinely so scary. I am terrified of heights, Shuji.”

He likes the way his name rolls off your tongue.

Still, the butterflies in his stomach must be a sign of disgust from your spoiled-rotten behavior. “You gotta get over it. What if you get on a plane one day?”

You scoff, but Hanma sees the twitch of your lips. “That’s different. I won’t have to look out of the window.”

His golden eyes widen in disbelief. “You wanna tell me you wouldn’t want the window seat?”

And when you remain quiet, Hanma pretends to let go of you just to hear your squeal.

You smack his chest. “Don’t do that!”

He leans down, face awfully close to yours. And for some odd reason, you don’t want to pull away.

“And where’s the fun in that, doll?”

—

Twelve years later, you don’t dare look the man in the eye after he is done ravaging you. You stand behind him like a statute, waiting for his cue as he motions for his bodyguards to open the backdoor of the club.

“Come on doll, let’s go home.”

The tattooed man starts to lead the way towards the VIP entrance of the club, growing aware of your sudden silence as your high heels quickly click against the tiled floor in an attempt to keep up with his long strides. You’re right behind him, but Hanma feels as though you want to disappear into the shadows. Turning around, he sees you going through your phone with a frown on your face and he raises an eyebrow as he pushes the door open for you to step out.

“What is it?”

But you’ve completely shut him out for the rest of the night and surprisingly, Hanma doesn’t push your buttons any further. He lets you get inside the car, buckle yourself and then you rest your head against the window before closing your eyes. Even if the ride back home might be short, you pray that it’s enough for you to pass out as soon as you get home.

As soon as Hanma parks near your building, you start to unbuckle yourself from the passenger seat then your hand reaches for the door handle. However, you don’t expect him to get out of his car as well.

“What are you doing?” You question as he stands in front of you with an extended hand.

“I’ll carry you.”

Hanma doesn’t like how loud you laugh at that. “Since when did you become a gentleman?” your voice drips with venom, and you eye him in a way that Hanma doesn’t seem to be fond of. Those eyes that used to shine so bright for him, reflecting the comfort and trust you had in him, now shone with something akin to hurt and disdain.

So he doesn’t say anything, and he steps away from the car just as you expected. You scoff, putting your high heels on as you hug your coat and purse tight to your chest. You were grateful that he managed to get them for you without having to go through the embarrassment of explaining to your co-workers the lack of stockings, but it doesn’t change how annoyed you were with him.

You start to walk away, waiting to hear the confirmation that Hanma was driving away. But when you look back, you are startled to find the man walking awfully close to you.

“Wha—”

“What?” He asks, feigning confusion while annoyance creeps back into your system.

You climb the first couple of stairs before turning to face him.“What do you want now?”

“You think I want something?” Hanma questions as he tilts his head.

“You always want something.”

“Ahhh,” he hisses, pretending as though your words hit his skin like a hot iron. “Don’t like what you’re insinuating, doll.”

Rolling your eyes, you don’t bother with him anymore. You start to walk towards your elevator, completely ignoring Hanma’s footsteps behind you as he tries to catch up to you. However, the elevator doors closed right before he could step in and the tall man could’ve sworn there was a hint of an amused smile on your face as the elevator went up.

You think you finally get rid of him when you step onto your floor, but to your shock, Hanma is standing near your front door with a new cigarette dangling from his lips.

“...do I need to ask?”

Hanma makes a gesture towards his legs. “Long limbs.”

“Ah,” you simply nod before reaching for your purse.

You can’t find the right word to describe the vibe between the two of you. Despite needing your own space, the wave of disdain and nausea you felt towards him earlier completely dissipates and is replaced with a gaping hole in your chest and an insatiable need to bicker with Hanma a little longer. You don’t deny the attraction, only a fool wouldn’t be able to see that the two of you got along really well.

(And your shared moment in the bathroom of his club is a testament to that.)

So the two of you walk into your apartment, stepping out of your shoes as you toss your keys on your kitchen counter. Hanma finally learns his lesson as he mirrors your actions then follows you into the kitchen.

“What?” you glance over your shoulder. “Are you hungry or something?”

“Not really.”

You leave the conversation there. You grab a bottle of water from your fridge and the man is still standing right behind you even as you pour the liquid into the glass. The silence is finally starting to bother you, and you turn to fully face the tall man.

“Seriously, what is your problem?”

“Kinda miss the view from behind.” His words are filthy and the grin on his face reflects just how much he enjoys toying with you, watching your expression twist and your lips twitch as your brain conjures up a witty come back.

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and you chug down some water before slamming the glass down on the counter. “You really need to work on your timing.”

Hanma tilts his head, a finger sliding under your chin as he slowly towers over you. “Why? I don’t think it bothers you.”

The small of your back collides with the marble of your kitchen counter, staring up at the man with bright eyes before swallowing thickly. “You’re too close,” you whisper, a hand sliding up his chest.

Despite wearing a suit at all times, the tattooed man rarely ever feels hot. No straining physical activity or hot summer night ever bothers him. But being in your presence like this, like he hadn’t bent you over a couple of hours prior, as though he hasn’t seen you naked on so many occasions—it makes the fabric feel like lava against his skin. He wants to take it off, to tattoo the spot where your hand was resting on his chest as a reminder of what you two have. He’s never felt this way before and maybe it would’ve scared him had he not been so close to you.

In a flash, he crashes his lips against yours and pins you harshly against the kitchen counter, swallowing your pained gasp. You cringe at the feeling of his glasses against your eyes, whining when he pulls away for a moment. You open your eyes and you swear you’ve never felt as hot and bothered as now, watching the tall man remove his glasses and toss them to the side. You’ve kissed Hanma before when the two of you were having sex, but it felt new to be up against him so soon after your ordeal in his club.

Hanma’s hands find the hem of your dress, pushing it up to your stomach. He groans at the sight of your ripped tights, letting his hands grope your ass before sliding up to your hips where he grips them.

You whine against his lips, melting at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin. “Are you gonna stay?”

Hanma grins against your skin. “You don’t want that?” But even as he utters the words, you can tell that his self-control was slowly slipping through the cracks of his mind.

“I do,” you whisper as your hand grips his hair. He presses his forehead against yours, and you can’t get over how filthy and primal it feels to feel him grind his bulge against you. “Please stay–”

“Pretty girl,” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, then your tongue swirls around the finger. “Never thought you’d be this filthy.”

“I’m not who I was twelve years ago,” You try to glare at him, but you’re too fucked out to sound threatening.

The grin plastered on his face should’ve annoyed you, but instead your heart flutters as he wraps his other hand around your throat as he leans closer. “I know that, doll.”

—

The night at the club is what solidifies your situationship

You had become far more comfortable expressing your sexual needs with the man and he couldn’t deny that it excited him. Instead of him seeking out sex as a way to distract himself from your very first time together, it felt like you were on equal footing in terms of wanting to fuck like rabbits. Although, you still refused to send him nudes and were very clear that you wouldn’t think of it, even if he were to pay you.

When asking you about it as he watched you clean yourself up after fucking you on your couch, you simply replied with.

“Who knows what you’ll do with them. You’re a dangerous guy.”

Fair enough.

But this also meant that sexting between the two of you wasn’t as often as the man had hoped. For the past month, Hanma was not sent on any mission outside of Tokyo which worked perfectly with his agreement with you. He would visit you at 2 in the morning after coming back from his strip club, all riled up and horny, he would fuck the frown off of your face as you try to scold him about the importance of getting a good 8 hours of sleep and how waking you up for sex was just selfish of him. Once he’s done with you and you’re drifting back to sleep all satisfied, you mumble something about how good dick is always worth it. All he can do is chuckle and put his clothes back on.

He is gone before the sun rises, and you grow used to an empty bed in the morning.

You learn to accept that asking him to stay was a one time thing, and he would never do it again.

He stands in the snacks aisle with a frown on his face. He looks…so out of place doing this. He doesn't even buy groceries for himself, so what was he doing buying snacks for the two of you?

Christmas was just around the corner and you had mentioned something about not finding your favorite snacks from when the two of you were still teenagers. Naturally, he thought it would be a good idea to finally shut you up and buy you everything that you needed. In return, he hoped that you would give him a proper blowjob this time.

“Pretzels.” Your school uniform was probably Hanma’s favorite thing on this planet. A cute, short skirt with the most adorable and tempting pair of thigh high socks. A white blouse and a baby blue tie which you proudly admit you tied on your own. He is distracted by how cute you look in your school uniform that he doesn’t hear a single word you say.

“What?”

“I like pretzels, but even better when you dip them in–” you gasp, clapping your hands before staring up at the boy.You point to the aisle behind him, and he notes how this is the most excited he’s seen you while talking about food. “Chocolate! There they are!”

Adult Hanma now stands before the snack section and grabs a family sized bag of chocolate dipped pretzels, before heading to the front of the store. He scans the item, missing the way the cashier gives him a bewildered stare when he pulls out his black card and then walks to his car.

You already know it’s Hanma when you hear your doorbell repeatedly–a habit that is so uniquely his given the lack of consideration for your poor doorbell. When you open the door, he’s grinning at the scowl on your face.

“One day, you’ll pay for a new one.” You don’t even wait for him to get in before walking away to your living room.

“I was hoping you’d say a new bed, can’t believe we haven’t broken it yet–” he starts to walk towards your kitchen before feeling something soft hit his side.

“No shoes in my house.” He raises his arms in the air, sliding them off in the middle of the hallway before putting the plastic bags on the kitchen counter. “And no shoes in the middle of the hallway!”

You’re sitting cross legged on your living room floor by the time he joins you, staring at you in confusion when he sees the show that’s playing on your large screen.

“Criminal minds? Didn’t that shit come out in 2005?” He scoffs as he throws his head over the couch, bouncing his leg as he releases some air and reaches for his pocket to grab a cigarette.

“Is a show supposed to have an expiration date?” you throw him a dirty look from over your shoulder. Hanma catches it and you gasp when you feel his foot on your back.

“Ew! Get off!”

“Ew?” Hanma narrows his eyes. “I know for a fact my feet don’t smell.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I don’t want your feet anywhere near me.”

“Yeah yeah,” he motions for the spot near you and you narrow your eyes as you glance to the side. You see the snack bag and Hanma is certain he’s never seen you this excited over food like now.

“Chocolate dipped pretzels?!”

He winces as he brings a hand to his ear. “I think even dogs heard that.”

You throw yourself over his lap, and Hanma’s breath hitches at the proximity. His hand hovers over your head momentarily, unsure as to where to place before giving your back a gentle pat.

“Thank you, I haven’t had them in a while!”

And after a long beat of silence, the tattooed man speaks up. “Don’t thank me, it’s fucking weird.”

You smile before patting his knees. “Still as awkward as ever,”

But before Hanma could come up with a reply, you’re pushing yourself up. “Ugh, now I’m hungry. Do you want to eat?”

“You made dinner already?”

“It’s like…7:30PM.” You frown at the man who raises an eyebrow at you.

Hanma shrugs. “Do I look like I have a routine to you?”

“Oh yeah right,” you walk closer to him, grinning at the man as you lean down to remove his glasses. Hanma watches with amusement as you wave the accessory in the air, walking towards the kitchen with a little sway to your hips just to tease him. “The only thing that’s consistent about you is your dick.”

“Is that so?” your stomach flutters when you see him push himself off the couch, all height and broad shoulders as he approaches you. He throws the cigarette pack on the soft cushions, suddenly consumed by something far more carnal than the need to smoke.

“Mmmhm. It’s not a bad thing.” you look over your shoulder with his glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose, trying to brush off the heat pooling between your legs as you stand near the stove.

“I know that,” stepping behind you, rough tattooed hands quickly find your bare skin under your shirt and he gropes your boobs. “Your body speaks to me, doll.”

“Does it?” You try to muffle your moans when one of his hands travels down to your shorts, pushing your panties to the side to cup your pussy.

“Loud and clear, baby girl.” You wish you could say something in return, poke fun at the man or say something smart–but it’s all thrown out the window when he starts to rub at your clit while his lips press against your pulse. You’ve gotten used to not seeing his face while he pleasures you. Even when you ride his face, you’re more focused on gripping the headboard for dear life than at the lust reflecting in those gorgeous golden orbs.

“What’s…what’s up with you and doing it in the kitchen?” you ask breathlessly, hissing when you feel his teeth bite at your neck.

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“No–”

“I know,” you can hear the grin in his voice, fingers messily rubbing your clit. “This pussy is soaked.”

It’s safe to say that the two of you did not eat that night.

You’re always the first one to pass out after having sex with Kisaki’s right hand, not that he minds. But he quickly finds out that as long as you don’t hold him or talk to him after sex, he doesn’t feel the urgency to leave.

The intimidating man sits up against the headboard, foot shaking slightly as he realizes where he had left his cigarette pack and curses under his breath. Then he turns his head to the side, and his eyes fall on your sleeping figure. Something so familiar yet so guarded. He knows every inch of your body like the back of his hand, is able to have you unravel beneath him with the flick of an experienced hand–but your heart is as guarded as it can be. His fingers twirl the loose strands of your hair, watching as your chest slowly rises then falls, lips parted to allow air in–until they get too dry. You lick them, pink muscle peeking out so adorably. He takes note of the constant twitch in your face muscles, how you have the same expressions you give him and he can’t help but chuckle.

Still, the heavy feeling in his chest comes back and he pushes himself off the bed to grab his clothes. Why does it bother him so much? Why was it that the longer he spent time with you, the more unbearable it was to breathe?

Hanma doesn’t feel guilt, he finds some lame excuse for the ache in his chest as he drops his pants to the floor. His feet drag him towards your living room where he finds his pack of cigarettes and he steps out onto your kitchen balcony to have a smoke.

The city isn’t foreign to the criminal, he practically lives during the night, but it feels strange to watch it from above like this and from your kitchen balcony. It almost feels like he is seeing things from your perspective, although he highly doubts you’d stay up this late.

An amused chuckle escapes his lips as he takes a whiff of the cigarette, leaning forward with his elbows on the metal railing and his head hangs between his shoulders. Suddenly, he feels something soft rub against his ankle and his body jolts up.

“What the fuck–” It’s dark, but he makes out a pair of bright eyes glaring daggers at him from the balcony door. Squinting, he leans down to make sure his eyes weren’t betraying him. “Is that–are you the fat fuck?”

A sharp hiss cuts through the dimly lit space of your kitchen, and Hanma laughs when your pet bares its fangs at him, its whiskers flaring in defiance. “Oh sorry, how does round motherfucker sound?”

“See, you and I don’t really have a good history.” Hanma squats to be eye level with your cat. “You cockblocked me, but I still got to fuck your mom though.”

When your cat hisses at him again, Hanma’s grin turns devilish. “I guess that makes me the motherfucker–”

“Kenta?” your sleepy voice cuts through the one sided tension between the two, and Hanma’s eyes shift towards you. His blouse is hanging loosely over your nude body, with your hand holding it together so it doesn’t fall open. He can’t pull his eyes away from your bare legs, as though he didn’t have them wrapped around him hours prior, but he forces himself to stare elsewhere to soothe the ache in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” he hears the panic in your voice as you speak to your pet, and steps into the kitchen. You hold a hand to your chest, clearly taken aback by his presence. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Did I wake you up?” Hanma brings the cigarette back between his lips, inhaling the smoke as his eyes keep shifting from your bare legs to your visible nipples.

“Oh, mmmm,” you rub your eyes sleepily and Hanma bites down at his cigarette bud. Your lips were extra pouty, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so harmless, so small. Not even when you’re whining beneath him. “It wasn’t you, I heard Kenta’s bell. He doesn’t go to the kitchen a lot at night,” he sees you lean down to pick up your pet, golden eyes flickering down to your butt as the blouse rides up and then back at you. The cat sits comfortably in your arms, but its disdain for the man is evident as he hisses again.

“Oh! That’s not nice,” your voice is soft as you rub your cat’s nose, but it’s clearly done with the man as it wiggles in your hold before you place it down and watch it run away. “He doesn’t like men.”

He chuckles, clearly amused. “Yeah, you told me that.”

You glance towards the clock on your microwave before staring at him in surprise. “It’s 2AM?”

Hanma nods. “You got work?”

“No, it’s Saturday.” You rub your eyes as you yawn and Hanma pulls his eyes away from your bare face. He’s grown used to seeing you like this — all bare and vulnerable, willing to show him a side of you he dreamed of seeing as a teenager. But the more he thought of it, the quicker he could feel bile rising to his throat. So he clears his throat.

“Oh yeah, right.”

You shiver slightly when the wind hits your body, hugging yourself tightly. “Lucky you, you don’t have a corporate job.”

Hanma leans against the door frame. “I wouldn’t consider myself lucky, doll.”

You shrug before continuing. “No 9 to 5, no meetings–”

“We do have meetings.” He interjects and you roll your eyes at him as you open the fridge to grab water.

“Then something about your job is more fun than mine.”

“Uh…it doesn’t feel like someone’s fucking you in the ass?”

You wince at the image, shaking your head as you bring the glass of water to your lips. “Yeah, I mean you don’t have to sign a contract or something.”

“The only contract you’re signing is that if you betray us, then you’re fucking dead.” he puts emphasis on the last part with a dark chuckle, puffing out smoke in the air. He leans against the railings of your balcony and soon enough, you join him.

However, Hanma is a man with a good memory — and he recalls many instances where he had to lend you his very thin jacket when it would snow, and lie to you that he wasn’t cold just so he could see your cheeks turn pink from getting warm. So he glances to the side and true to his recollection, you are trembling from the cold.

“You’re shivering.”

You shake your head, determined to fight your body’s need to slide in your warm bed. “I’m fine now.”

It wasn’t everyday that Hanma stayed, let alone have a conversation like this. You were willing to sacrifice body heat in order to stay up with the nocturnal man, and pray that he would be the one to suggest going back inside and… talk.

Hanma’s eyes shamelessly travel down to your erect nipples, the way they harden in the cold and how your bare thighs seem to tremble as you lean against the cold railings. Naturally, Hanma’s brain leads him down a dirty path.

“You sure someone can’t see you from here?”

“I’ve lived here long enough to know where to stand naked,” you joke around. You don’t know when throwing jokes and jabs at one another became fun around Hanma, all you know is that it doesn’t feel awkward anymore.

“You’re not naked though,” he flickers the cigarette to the ground, and you give him a nasty side eye for it. “At least, not enough.”

“What do you mean?” your heart is racing in your chest, but you don’t pull back when he starts to lean down before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He pushes you against the cold railings, but you make no attempt to grab onto them as devours you. He smells of cigarettes and a hint of sandalwood, a combination your brain has adjusted to over the weeks. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel his hands grope and smack your ass cheeks. You pull away with a whine, staring up at him behind your eyelashes.

The action causes the man to hiss, and you could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate as he pecks your lips.

“You’re into shit like that?” his hot breath fans over your mouth, forcing you to stare at his lips for a quick moment.

“Shit like what?” You breathe out and Shuji’s hands grip your ass cheeks.

“Someone possibly catching us?”

You don’t give him a direct answer. You peck his lips once, twice then the third time seems to have the man unravel as he goes from kissing you passionately to devouring you in a split second.

Hanma feels your fingernails dig into his scalp, and it ignites a fire in his stomach — a need to destroy you in front of the whole world to see. He pulls away from the kiss to bite down at your neck, and you gasp as your grip tightens around his hair.

“As long as you make me cum.”

Challenge accepted.

You knew better than to test the man, you should’ve expected him to be determined about listening to your demands — but nothing could’ve prepared you for how shaky your legs would be by the end of it.

Hanma pulls your arms behind your back as he drills his cock into you, his nose nestled against the crown of your head as you push your ass back against him so sweetly. Your chest rests against the railings, digging uncomfortably into your rib cage but it didn’t matter — not when he was fucking you like this.

“Filthy fucking girl,” he hums, using his other hand to wrap itself around your neck and pull you back against his chest. “I can feel your fucking pussy—she’s a messy one,” you can’t see his face, your vision blurred with tears as you fight back the loud noises threatening to spill from your lips.

“O-Oh my g-g– Shuji–”

“Yeah baby, say it. Say my fucking name.” His thrusts become sloppy, erratic but he seems to be adamant on bruising that sweet spot. “Say my fucking name loud and clear. Tell people who’s fucking you right now.”

“Shit!”

“Who’s fucking you? Who’s ruining this fucking pussy?”

“Shuji please!”

“Say it!”

“It’s you! It’s you Sh-Shuji it’s you, it’s you, it’s you—!” you blabber, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth and you hear Hanma curse under his breath as an orgasm washes over you in violent waves. He holds your body against him as yours shakes and trembles, kissing your neck through the tremors of your euphoric state.

And soon enough, he is reaching his orgasm as well before melting against your back.

Hanma carries you to the bathroom where he lets you do your business as well as clean yourself. He watches intently as you wash your hands and you shoot him a questioning look through the mirror.

“Just thinking.”

“That’s never a good sign.” You yelp when he delivers a smack to your ass and you turn to pout at him. “You’re mean!”

The tall man chuckles before approaching you, and at first you think he is going to try to grope you or push you against the sink. Suddenly, you see the world upside down.

“Shuji!” You gasp, holding onto his shirt as a giggle rips from the back of your throat. “Put me down!”

Another loud smack bounces off the walls and you let out a pained moan. “That really hurt!”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“I can walk!”

You hear the playful chuckle right before Hanma drops you to your mattress. “Then I gotta fuck you harder.”

—

Over the last few weeks, Hanma’s presence has become a constant in your life. The tattooed man would stay long enough for the two of you to make breakfast together (or attempt, at least) and then he would leave.

Naturally, that meant that the two of you had developed a sort of…routine together, one that neither of you wanted to acknowledge nor disrupt.

7PM - He pulls up to your apartment building, and as he looks up to your living room window, the lights are on.

It takes him about 5 minutes before he is abusing your door bell, and when you open the door to scold him, he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss and hopes that it distracts you.

(It does sometimes).

Afterwards, it goes something like “did you eat yet?” “not really” “Shuji, how many times should I tell you–” and you proceed to scold him about the importance of getting three meals a day, staying hydrated enough and getting a good night of rest. Obviously, Hanma isn’t listening and only nods because is distracted by your small shorts.

7:30 PM - The two of you are done eating dinner and he helps by drying the dishes. You tell him you are still not used to him standing in your kitchen and he complains about how small it is.

8PM - You try to get him to watch an episode of Criminal Minds, and he tells you it’s stupid. He says he doesn’t understand the concept, and that they’re probably not even smart. After an episode or two, he changes his mind but only half-heartedly and without ever admitting that he likes the plotline of the episodes.

The next 20 minutes are spent making out on the couch, with Hanma whispering into your ear lines from one of the characters. You are always surprised by how good his memory is.

9PM - Hanma asks you if you should start getting ready for bed, but you are still needy from the makeout session and he can’t hide his amusement as you drag him to your bedroom. He watches as you make a poor attempt to switch the roles in bed and take control, but a single thrust up of his hips has you melting on top of him and surrendering to the pleasure. You are usually knocked out by 10:30 PM.

The tall man wants nothing more than to experience this right now — but it’s all cut short when he hears his phone buzzing. He fights back the urge to go through your older messages, questions of what he wants to have for dinner and some sneaky pictures you’d send each other when you’re both busy at work. Then his eyes find the latest message.

—I have a work dinner I need to attend. sorry :(

The brightness of his phone casts a shadow over his face, and a frown sits heavy on his features as his eyes scan the message for multiple seconds. His thumb hovers over his keyboard, unsure of what to type as a response.

Have fun? He hopes someone chokes on their food, but he knows your kindness and how willing you would be to stay with the co-worker in the hospital until they feel better.

Eat well? Hanma knows for a fact that you would’ve eaten better in his presence and while watching your favorite show.

Stay safe doesn’t work either, he’s not a fucking guardian angel.

Get home soon? Fuck no.

Hanma cannot find a single appropriate response that doesn’t make him come off as possessive and jealous, which is far from how he feels at the moment. Obviously, the knot in his stomach is from how hungry he is and you are to blame for it. After all, you’re the one who made him get so used to a routine, modified it so it would match his schedule.

He stares at the watch and the frown turns into a glare when he sees the time.

7:10PM

Finally, he unlocks his phone and his thumb slides across the screen as he types a response.

—OK.

“Look who’s visiting.” You can’t say you’re surprised he is here, but you still didn’t expect the owner of the restaurant to come to your table. All brooding, big and handsome; a pair of golden eyes lock with yours in the dimly lit space. Surrounded by all of your co-workers, you can’t hide the big smile that paints your features, and you miss the looks they all exchange as you get up from your seat to greet the man properly.

“I suggested the restaurant, actually.” You feel your phone buzz in your hand, but you choose to ignore it and place it down as you wrap your arms around the taller man’s shoulders. Feeling his big, muscular arms circle your waist, you fight back a blush as he pulls you against him slightly.“Heard you were good with seafood.”

He smirks at your playful comment, eyes scanning all of your co-workers as their eyes shine with something he could only describe as mischievous. “I’m excellent with seafood,”

“I have a feeling that’s not the only thing he’s excellent with,” Misaki, your co-worker, teases slightly and you find yourself flushing at the comment. Shooting her a warning glare, she shrugs her shoulders and snickers when she sees you try to fan your face.

“Uh, thank you so much for coming.”

“No problem, let me know when you’re ready to order. I’ll make sure that you’re taken care of.” He places a warm hand on your bare shoulder, and you force yourself to look away from him when you catch him eyeing your cleavage for a bit too long.

You’re not prepared for the overwhelming amount of questions and comments that are thrown at you.

“Who was that?”

“You have a boyfriend and didn’t tell us?”

“He’s huge! I know a size kink when I see one–”

“Guys!” you try to calm the situation. “We’re not dating, he’s not my boyfriend!”

Another co-worker, Aya, quirks an eyebrow at your reply. “Oh yeah? But he sure looks like he wants to be.”

“No he doesn’t.” You sigh, sinking in your seat as you pretend to read the menu. “Plus, he and my ex are close friends. I can’t do that to him.”

“Please,” Misaki speaks up again. “You don’t owe your ex anything, you two have been over for a while.”

“Aaand, if I had a man who looked at me the same way he looks at you…” Aya sighs dreamily and you furrow your eyebrows in concern. “I wouldn’t know how to act around him.”

Objectively speaking, he was an attractive man. Tall, handsome, strong and big–all of these traits combined are enough to make any woman fall face first. Well, you weren’t just any woman. You’ve known him for quite some time now, ever since his fight with Mitsuya and the whole shift in the blue haired man’s character–you watched him change entirely for his two siblings and after many years of hard work and discipline, he managed to open a chain of many successful restaurants all across Japan. So yeah, on top of being so physically charming, he was a smart man, a good flirt and he always smelled so good.

And beside there was Hanma. Despite things not being official between the two of you, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing it to the taller man.

No matter how charming, handsome and huge Taiju was.

You catch yourself before your thoughts go down a dirty path, squeezing your thighs lightly before crossing your legs and clearing your throat.

“Well you have to learn how to act around him because–”

“Act around who?” Your blood runs cold, but you quickly look up to find Taiju staring directly down at you. All handsome face and chiseled jaw. His hands were on your chair, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel nervous at the close proximity and the feeling of his body heat.

“You said you’d send someone?” You change the topic quickly and it seems as though the taller man doesn’t mind.

Shrugging his shoulders, he pushes himself away from your chair and grabs his phone from his pocket. “I thought about it, and I’d rather do it myself. Memorize your order and all.” He sends you a wink and you flush. His gaze was a wildfire—unrelenting, consuming, and impossible to look away from, and honestly–you’d rather stare at him forever than meet the playful looks from your colleagues. So you point to the menu as he types away.

“Uhh I’ll take the–”

–

“You’re leaving?” The broad-shouldered man steps into your space from behind the counter and you flash him an apologetic smile as you wrap your scarf around your neck.

“Yeah, early day tomorrow.”

Raising an eyebrow, you don’t miss the slight twitch to his smirk as he crosses his huge arms across his chest. “Early day, huh?”

Sensing his amusement, you roll your eyes at him and look down at your shoes, finding them interesting.

“Shut up, it’s not bad.”

“Not judging ya bunny.” You were grateful that your colleagues were busy with paying, and that none of them was looking at you–or else, they’d have endless questions about why your eyes widened so much and why your face looked as though it was matching the restaurant’s fancy red carpets?

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Call you bunny?”

When you don’t give him an answer, only a lighthearted glare and a smile you try to suppress, Taiju’s hands find your shoulders and he starts to guide you out of the restaurant. “Alright alright, but it’s good to know it still has the same effect on you.”

“Not the same effect if it’s not the same person saying it,” you mumble only to yourself, but the tall man catches it and chuckles.

“You’re right, lover girl, my bad.”

“I’m not a lover girl.”

“Mhm, and I’m not a Christian man.” You feel him squeeze your shoulders playfully, but you still can’t deny how comforting it feels to have him touch you like this. Nonetheless, you pull away from his touch when you find your colleagues waiting for you near the car.

“Okay I have to go,” you shiver slightly from the cold, nuzzling your face in your scarf while Taiju looks almost unfazed by the icy, cold wind. “Thank you for tonight.”

“No problem.” But even as the conversation comes to an end, you can feel that Taiju has more to say. You tilt your head to the side, and Taiju catches onto your movement with a slight chuckle.

“Spill.” You nudge the man and he shrugs.

Taiju’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Who’s the lucky man?”

Your eyes widen. “Huh?”

“Come on bunny,” he leans down to be eye level with you. “I recognize that look on your face. Only one man has ever made you act this way.”

But you remain quiet, burying your face in your scarf as though it could magically make you disappear. You don’t want to tell Taiju or anyone about him, you like how secretive and intimate it feels to be involved with a man like Hanma. And for the longest time, you thought that you were hiding how complete and new Shuji made you feel, that your lies about having a self-care night and going on solo dates were convincing enough to your co-workers.

Perhaps they weren’t, and maybe Taiju knows you that well and you are only learning about it now.

Your shoes become interesting again, and you can’t control the blush that travels up to your face. You would like to blame it on your scarf, that you were breathing into it, but that wouldn’t explain the glossiness of your eyes.

Before you can part your lips and utter a response, a loud honk makes you jump out of your skin. Taiju stays put as he stares at the fancy car parked right in front of his restaurant, his hands buried in his pockets as his eyes stay fixated on the driver of the car.

You turn to see who the culprit is, about to complain to Taiju about how rude people have become lately and then you see him.

“Didn’t take you for a seafood lover, doll.” Hanma gets out of his car, marching slowly towards you and Taiju with a cigarette between his lips. “Shit, didn’t take you for Shiba’s friend either.”

“Oh we…” you gulp as you stare between the two men in panic. Your heart is beating so loudly you can feel in your throat, but you muster up the strength to wave for your co-workers to go ahead without you before they can question the situation you were in.

Which was nothing, so you didn’t understand where the anxiety came from.

“We’ve known each other for a while.”

Hanma tilts his head to the side. “Have you?”

You nod, trying your best to seem unfazed by the dark look in his eyes.

“Why is this news to me?”

You shrug, “You never asked.”

Taiju watches the interaction unfold with curious eyes. He can tell from your body language that Hanma isn’t a stranger, but he isn’t…just a friend either. You seem almost hesitant to talk about another man in his presence, but you are confident enough to stand your ground and not let him intimidate you.

But he does wonder, how is it that someone like you goes from Mitsuya to a man like Hanma? It seemed a little unexpected, but he continues to observe the interaction between the two of you.

You grab onto your scarf again, eyebrows twitching as Hanma steps onto the pavement. He stands to his full height, something he rarely ever does and your breath catches in your throat.

“You ready to go home, doll?”

You shoot him a look. “Should I ask how you found me?”

Hanma flashes you one of his playful smiles while you fight one of your own, like it’s one of your inside jokes, your own little shared secret.

“Get in the car, doll.”

For the first time during the night, Taiju feels as though he shouldn’t be standing near you. He doesn’t voice it out, watching intently as you wave at him once you are near the car. You wish him goodnight with a bright smile, before getting in Hanma’s car.

“Interesting.” The blue haired male tells Hanma and the latter doesn’t respond. The two stand in silence for a few more seconds before Taiju scoffs, waving a hand at you before glancing at the criminal.

“What, lost the way to your car or something?”

A dark chuckle escapes the tall man’s lips as he retreats to his car. “You’re fucking lucky she’s there.”

—

You’ve never seen Hanma drive back home as fast as he did tonight. The entire ride feels like a blur as he pulls up near your apartment building. And when the two of you get out of the vehicle, you almost don’t register that he is physically dragging you up the stairs and inside the elevator.

“Shuji?” You whisper his name with a hint of hesitance, unsure as to why the man was suddenly as quiet as he is. But he doesn’t respond, clenching the elevator’s railings. “Are you okay?”

Still no answer.

The elevator doors open again and the taller man is back to dragging you by your wrist. When you are finally in front of your door, you dig your hand into your purse to grab your keys then Hanma snatches them out of your hands to unlock the door himself. Your lips part and close multiple times, the coil in your stomach tightening as you take in Hanma’s body language.

Stiff shoulders, tight jaw and a dark look in his eyes.

This could go either really bad, or really well.

When you finally step into your apartment, Hanma doesn’t waste a single second as he pushes you up against the nearest wall and clashes his lips against yours. It’s primal, the way kisses you, pushing you so harshly against the wall that you grip his shoulders and whine against his lips. But it doesn’t shake him, instead giving him a boost to make an even bigger mess out of you.

When he finally pulls away, it is to pepper kisses down your jaw and remove his glasses as he strips you from your scarf and coat. Finally, he gets a look of the dress you were wearing.

“Work dinner?” Even as he asks, his hands don’t leave your skin. He shoves them under your dress, groping your ass cheeks before giving them a harsh smack.

“Yes Shuji,” you bite your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I like to look good.”

You always look good.

He hikes up your dress just enough to shove his hand in your underwear, rubbing your clit in circles until he feels the wetness soak his digits. You melt against the wall behind you, whimpering when the tip of his fingers swiped and teased your entrance.

“So unfair,” you whine to the man and he raises an eyebrow.

“I’m no damn mind reader.”

Grabbing his belt, Hanma seems to be taken aback as you pull him flush against your crotch. “I wanna see you”

His movements are hurried as he pulls away from you, chuckling at the whine you let out at the loss of contact.

“So fucking whiny for me.”

“Don’t push it.” But even as you glare at him, there’s a smile dancing on your lips before you pull him back in for a kiss.

You feel his naked body against yours, moaning into the kiss when the tip of his cock grazes your entrance a couple of times. His thumb slides down to rub at your clit, taking in the way you tense into the kiss when he finally starts sliding his cock inside you. He applies a good amount of pressure to your clit, watching with lustful eyes as your jaw goes slack and you throw your head back against the wall.

Hanma’s hand slowly wraps itself around your neck and his fingers collide with the metal of your necklace. You can feel his hot breath fanning against your lips as you part them. His eyes are like two burning suns, pulling you towards their heat but so intensely bright that tears start to blur your vision. Your hand finds his forehead, and you brush his hair away as you press your forehead against his and moan loudly into his mouth.

“Shu,” you whisper out, voice laced with wanton and a need for his presence like never before. Hanma finds himself groaning into your mouth when your voice reaches his ear, the hold he has on your neck tightening a bit.

“Don’t say my name like that,” his voice breaks at the end, and it’s a tell-tale that his orgasm was near. And like a pyromaniac, you love to play with fire.

Your hand slides down to his jaw, gently cupping it. The intoxicating movement of his hips distracts you for a moment, and you hold back from tossing your head on the wall as the tip of his cock brushes against your sensitive spot. “Like what, Shu?”

Another loud groan erupts from the back of his throat, then he leans down to press his nose against your pulse. “Fuck me, doll.”

Giggling to yourself, you wrap your leg around his waist as you pull him in.

“I am,”

And that seems to catch his attention as he pulls away from your skin, hovering over your fucked out body with flushed cheeks and bruised lips.

“Looks like I haven’t fucked you stupid yet.” He taps your butt and you jump, wrapping both legs around his waist as you gasp.

“If I can still talk? Yeah, you haven’t.”

Smirking, Hanma moves away from the wall with him still inside, and starts to walk towards your bedroom. He makes quick work of opening your door before laying your body down on the mattress.

You almost miss the way he is gentle with your body.

Slowly, he starts to hover over your body and your legs pull him in closer. His hand squeezes your neck once before dragging down your chest, torso and eventually your stomach where he presses down hard enough for you to gasp. You look up at him from behind your lashes, eyes shining with what Hanma could only be described as pure lust, then you drag your hands down to fondle your own breasts. That seems to seal the deal for the tattooed man, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist to pull you even closer to him.

You yelp at the sensation, body arching off the mattress as you throw your head back on the pillow. “Suddenly wanna show off how strong you are?” you mumble against the back of your hand, poorly attempting to cover up your flushed cheeks.

“Maybe,” Hanma shrugs, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit. “Cause I’ve seen the way this pussy squeezes around me when I do that.”

You have no response to that—no smart retort or sarcastic comment, only a hot face and a pathetic whimper that escapes the back of your throat with so much desperation that Hanma’s eyes widen in shock.

“Oh shit,” he chuckles. “Oh fuck, you do like how strong I am.”

“Shuji stop,” you look to the side, now using your arm to cover your face. You bend your knees as you try to escape his grip, but that seems to put you in the perfect position for Hanma to fold you in half.

Pinning you to the mattress, his hands grab onto the back of your knees as he pushes them to your chest. You are trapped beneath him, forced to come face to face with the man who had been drilling you all night.

“Don’t look away, doll.” And he means it.

He wants to see, hear and feel everything. The slight twitch to your lips as he starts to thrust in and out of you at an achingly slow pace, the breathy moan as his pubic hair brushes against your sensitive clit and the flutter to your pussy when he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Being in bed with you, fucking you like this, was beginning to shake Hanma’s unwavering belief that God didn’t exist.

Hanma’s eyes seem to be fixated on your sleeping figure, on the slow fall and rise of your chest, the soft inhale and exhale and the plush of your lips. He doesn’t seem to realize, but you’ve pulled him in a trance and he can’t seem to escape. His hand traces the small of your back, a chuckle escapes him and it’s so soft, so devoid of malice or sarcasm that it leaves an ache in his dull, cold heart. And then, he feels a lump in his throat.

The longer he stares, the more his touch lingers on your skin, the harder it is to pull away and the pain in his chest intensifies. It spreads like a wildfire, and a tattooed hand lands on his torso as he feels bile rise to the back of his throat.

He rips his eyes away from your innocent expression, trying to distract himself from the fact that your hand was resting on his arm as a way to keep yourself grounded. Even now, Shuji was aware of the fact that you don’t cuddle to sleep, you told him once when the two of you were young and dumb and he truly believed that he could somehow end up as your first boyfriend.

“That sounds like such bullshit,” a young Hanma appears in his memories, he is going through your magazines that Ran had bought for you and a teenager version of you is trying to pry them off his hands.

“Put them down! Ran and I spent so much time organizing them!” But when that doesn’t work, you huff and land on your desk chair with your arms crossed over your chest. “What do you mean it sounds like…”

Hanma can’t stop smirking as he repeats. “Bullshit? Come on doll, not allowed to curse?”

“I am allowed to curse!” The defensiveness and lack of eye contact tell a different story.

“Sure thing, princess.” He pats your head rather aggressively, but not enough to hurt you. You’re annoyed that he messed with your hair, then Hanma speaks up again. “You’re too whiny and clingy to not want to cuddle when you sleep.”

Your heart aches. “Clingy?”

When he hears the hint of pain in your voice, he smoothly places a band-aid over it. “Like a kitten. It’s not bad.”

But you shrug, leaning against your chair. “I really can’t cuddle, I feel uncomfortable.”

Hanma sits on your bed after picking a magazine. “How?”

“I don’t know?” you tilt your head. “Maybe with a boyfriend it will feel different.”

In reality, he doesn’t know whether or not your habit has changed. For the first time, he chooses to assume that he doesn’t know you as well as he does, that you’ve grown into a person he doesn’t recognize and that his brain was playing mind tricks on him whenever he recognized old habits that never died down.

But your hand keeps sliding up his arm, nails digging into his shoulder as you shift closer to him in bed.

You press your lips against his bicep, and Hanma instinctively reaches his hand down to cup your face.“Shuji?”

“Hm?”

“What do you say we go out and have brunch tomorrow?” It’s mumbled and barely coherent, but Hanma makes out a few words and manages to piece them together. However, he doesn’t say anything in return.

This wasn’t unusual, the two of you have made plans before. And like every other time, you expect him to reply with his usual ‘yes’ and ‘I will find a place’.

Instead, all you hear is a shuffle before your face is pressed against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and comforting, and it slowly pulls you back to sleep.

But even with your naked body pressed up against his, and as you mumble his name in your sleep, Hanma can’t seem to brush off the discomfort that suddenly engulfs his entire being. The walls of your bedroom suddenly seem like prison walls, and the pendant of your necklace presses against his chest like the tip of a knife.

A loud buzzing sound interrupts his thoughts, and he quickly reaches for his phone on the nightstand.

It’s Kisaki. He brings the phone closer to his ear.

“Hm?”

“Where are you?”

Despite being familiar with your sleeping habits, Hanma’s voice is unusually quiet. “Why?”

Kisaki doesn’t need to say much before Hanma is slipping out of your arms and into his work outfit. He doesn’t cast you a glance, golden orbs fixated on the grey of your carpet as he sits at the edge of the bed to put on his socks.

Homemade meals, soft covers and a place you turned into home with your own delicate hand; those were all things Hanma wasn’t used to, and he couldn’t afford to keep lying to himself about being deserving of something like this.

Suddenly, the walls of your room feel foreign to him. He doesn’t see himself in any of the pictures in your living room, nor can he find a way for his existence to fit on the pillowy bed of your heart.

He steals a glance at your sleeping figure, still curled around the pillow that had cradled his head just moments ago, before tearing his gaze away.

He was never meant to find his way into your life again, and by the time the sun rises, he will be nothing more than a shadow lost to the morning light.

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