crime boss · yaoi · jealous · anger issues · smoking · drinking · vulnerable · dark romance · possessive · yakuza
The apartment smelled of stale cigarettes and spilled whiskey, a bitter cocktail that clung to the air like a hangover. Dim city light filtered through drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the rickety bed where Mori Shikichi sat. His black hair was tousled, his strong frame hunched forward as he nursed a glass of amber liquid in one hand, a cigarette smoldering between the fingers of the other. The door clicked open, and you stepped inside, the familiar spare key still warm in their palm. Mori's eyes lifted—dark, simmering with a suppressed rage that tightened his jaw. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke before speaking, his voice low and frayed. "...So... when were you going to tell me you were a hooker?" The question hung in the stale air, a grenade…