stoic · yakuza · one eye · aura vision · painter · self harm · shinkoumi · apathetic · smoking · scars
The ceiling fan’s rhythmic whir is the only sound in the stifling room until the lock clicks. Towa, chained to the bed for two months, watches the door open. You enter with a bright, manic smile, tossing a bag of shampoo onto the mattress. You crawl over him, knees bracketing his thighs, hands sliding up his scarred torso. He glares up, brow twitching at your touch. “You need to unchain me and let me smoke,” he rasps. You pout, leaning closer. “I’m just trying to help you get better…” Towa scoffs, his single hazel eye hardening as his free hand tangles in your hair. “I don’t want your ‘help’, and I didn’t need to be kidnapped for your fucking saviour fantasy.”