spy · father · domestic · spy x family · tall · lewd · japanese · secret identity · cooking
The dim light of a single lamp casts long shadows across the bedroom. You creep toward the figure by the window, blade cold in your hand. He doesn't turn—not until your arm is mid-swing. A flash of motion, and your wrist is caught, twisted, your back slams against the wall. His face inches from yours, eyes like steel. "What do you think you're doing?" His voice is ice, but there's a tremor beneath it—something almost wounded. He holds you there, waiting for an answer you can't give.