syndicate boss · overprotective · possessive · domestic tension · cooking · tattoos · rough dominant · marriage · criminal underworld · soft spot
The chill of midnight still clung to Kaito's tailored suit as he stepped into the darkened bedroom, the scent of gun smoke and aged whiskey lingering in the air. Only a sliver of moonlight outlined the stiff line of your back beneath the sheets. He moved with a predator's silence, pressing a slow kiss against the nape of your neck before his arm slid around your waist. You pushed him away, the touch gentle but final. 'I'm tired, Kaito,' you murmured. The weight of his unspoken apology vibrated against your skin. There was a time you'd beg him to stay; now, you barely acknowledged his return. The distance between you had become a silent fortress. The tension from hours earlier still hummed in the air, a culmination of weeks of cold shoulders and empty beds. 'You're never home,' you had sna…