Characters included:

Baki ❤️‍🩹

Yujiro 💔

Jack 💛

Kaioh Retsu 💙

Katsumi 🩵

Shibukawa 🤍

Oliver 💜

Kaoru 💚

Hector ❤️

Kind of a random line up

This going be long 🫩 if you want a certain character just look for the specific heart. If you can’t, the order will be the same as in the list. Enjoy!

Baki❤️‍🩹:

I would assume the both of you met at school. Gotta be cliche

You were both curious about each other

It was basically normal to see Baki leave for some type of injury

Maybe show up to school with a cast and bandages and pretend he doesn’t even have them

Mean while you caught his attention because yes, you would spy on him.

Not stalk but simply spy.

Like sometimes you would see him walk him and see his messed up house.

Or see him talking with random buff guys near a building for karate classes

One time you had followed him into the underground arena and that’s when you guys finally had a conversation.

Something other than him asking you for some type of school supplies because for some reason he never had a back pack

Yujiro💔:

Oh golly, here comes this guy

YOU made the first move

There is NO way this guy would make the first move

But he did accept your affection and attention, which was a sign for you a possible relationship in the future.

Most likely you had seen him online first and just secretly fan-girled

So when you spotted him just walking through the streets of Tokyo you kind of just dashed for the chance

When you spoke to him he kind of looked down at you with an intrigued expression.

He was definitely interested in your confidence and courage to walk up to THE strongest man on earth.

Jack 💛:

You both shared a gym.

Jack for some reason was just always there.

Doing leg workout, arms, anything at this point, he did it.

At first you would just stare and go back, it took about three months of seeing each other daily for either of you to talk.

And the thing was that you worked out in the later parts of the day and you were the one to leave first every time

“Do you know where some of the wipes are….those aren’t restocked….”

Those were the first words he spoke to you.

Which was an obvious attempt to simply get a chance to talk to you since the wipes he said were empty seemed to be stocked to the top.

But of course you played along and eventually you would start going to the gym together

Leading up to your relationship.

Kaioh Retsu💙:

I’m not gonna lie, this is my goat right here so this might seem a little bias

Anyways, you both met through Katsumi

Retsu would be the best boyfriend but he doesn’t exactly look for love

He believes in fate, so he is not outside chasing woman and getting in relationships

That’s why he most definitely met you through a friend,

It doesn’t have to be Katsumi of course, I just used him as an example.

At first it was simple greetings and small talk

But then he would start to plan out interactions on purpose until you were comfortable to just talk about anything.

Until you both got into a relationship.

Katsumi 🩵:

The dude is a massive extrovert.

But that does not mean you guys just met on the street

You had enrolled yourself into a Shin Shin Kai class.

Just to learn self defense, just to be safe.

And guess who just so happened to be your teacher, Katsumi!

You stood out to him, you just so happened to do pretty good in his class.

He would definitely tell you that you were doing HORRIBLE just for the sake of you coming back to practice

And of course he would tell the truth once you had mastered it.

He wasn’t afraid to ever talk to you when you were in his class, any drop of conversation with you would make him so happy.

It didn’t take long for you two to get in a relationship just because of his personality

Also because he would always constantly get advice from his mother and father.

Shibukawa🤍:

This is one I would say depends

If you were around his age range he would most definitely shoot his shot. Maybe at a fruit market or coffee shop.

Somewhere calming.

But if you were significantly younger, you would probably have to be the first to say something.

Shibukawa is a respectable man and he wouldn’t be the type to chase for younger woman unless they did so first.

He stills loves you despite your age.

And because of that he would always invite you for a date to a coffee shop or calming cafe,

Even a spa.

Just because he wants to have a deep conversation and get to know you.

Oliver💜:

He is also another guy to have been the sweetest towards you.

But you didn’t exactly meet face-to-face…

You had ended up participating in getting a Pen pal.

It was mainly by accident but he would always send letters back.

And it became a habit for you to check your mailbox everyday for a letter from him.

Eventually you did go visit him.

You knew he was in jail but everytime you asked why, he would avoid the question.

So you didnt push it and visited him.

You took an airplane ride and finally met him in person.

You were given special access and there he was, standing with a nice black suit, bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates.

Kaoru 💚:

To be honest I’m not sure if he would really make the first move

The dude just gives me the ceo to your y/n.

He would most likely see you at the park after having fought Spec

You were a witness that caught his eye

And somehow he tracked you down and began to “coincidentally” show up to your job, bus stop, or maybe even house.

He obviously made the first move but subtly.

Like helping you in ways you didn’t know or notice.

He once noticed a few guys planning on robbing you and suddenly they are gone, dragged into a hallways without you noticing.

Hector Doyle ❤️:

You were just shopping in your nearby mall.

Getting a few makeup applications when you were suddenly approached by a familiar man

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Do you know how to match foundation?”

He was a good listener and listened to what you had to say about makeup.

Soon shopping around with you as you helped with him some things

You basically screamed in your head when you got home and saw on the internet that other whole time you were helping an escaped convict.

He had so many opportunities to end your life so high didn’t he?

You only found out when he came back partially blind and looking for a roof over his head.

—

Baki wakes early.

Not necessarily by choice, it’s years of training that have conditioned his body to rise fast, be alert and ready to move.

Normally, the second consciousness returns, so does awareness.

The room.

The air.

The sounds outside.

His own breathing.

Everything sharpens immediately.

Mornings change when you’re there now. As the first thing he notices isn’t the day. It’s you.

The warmth pressed against his side.

The weight of your arm across his stomach.

The slow rise and fall of your breathing.

If you’re still asleep, Baki doesn’t rush to move. That change does surprise him at first. He’s not naturally someone who lingers.

He’s action oriented, always moving toward the next challenge, the next fight, the next goal.

But with you? He lingers. A lot.

He’ll quietly watch you sleep, studying the tiny things most people overlook.

How your brows twitch when you dream.

How your grip tightens if he shifts too much.

How you instinctively move toward warmth.

And if you start drifting away in your sleep?

He gently pulls you back. No hesitation. No embarrassment. Just casual affection.

If you wake up slowly, Baki tends to greet you with sleepy honesty.

A quiet, “Morning.” Or “You drool a little when you sleep.” Which immediately starts chaos.

Once you’re both awake, affection is still casual but constant.

He likes touch without overthinking it.

A hand at your waist while brushing teeth.

Your legs tangled while sitting together.

Foreheads bumping while half awake.

Breakfast is simple. Protein heavy. Functional.

Baki isn’t fancy in the kitchen but if you’re sleepy enough, he’ll quietly make something for both of you.

And one of the sweetest things about him? He doesn’t make domestic affection feel like an event.

He treats closeness as natural. As easy as breathing.

If you complain about not wanting to get up, he’ll probably smirk and say, “Then don’t.” Before pulling you right back down beside him.

🐯 Katsumi Orochi

Katsumi’s mornings are polished and disciplined but a partner quickly learns he has a deeply affectionate, quietly indulgent side before the day begins.

—

Katsumi is a structured morning person. He likes order, routine and discipline. Even before training, he prefers starting the day with intention.

So he usually wakes first. And then immediately checks to see whether you’re still asleep.

If you are, something soft happens to him. It’s a subtle softness. His usual sharpness gentles because sleep strips people of performance.

And Katsumi finds something strangely moving about being allowed to witness you in such an unguarded state.

He won’t wake you right away.

Instead, he’ll quietly enjoy the rare stillness.

Sometimes he brushes hair from your face.

Sometimes he traces small, absent minded patterns along your arm.

Sometimes he simply watches.

Thinking and just appreciating. Feeling that warm, kind of affection he rarely voices directly.

Katsumi’s morning routine itself is disciplined.

Stretching. Hydration. Training preparation. Mental focus.

But with a partner, routine becomes negotiable. Because if you’re half asleep and reach for him, everything pauses.

That hand around his wrist?

That sleepy murmur asking him not to leave yet?

Devastating.

He folds fast. Far faster than he’d admit.

He’ll sigh like you’re inconveniencing him. Then climb right back into bed. “You are destroying my discipline.” Meanwhile his arms are already around you.

Hypocrite.

He also enjoys teasing in the morning. Especially if you’re groggy.

If you stumble into the kitchen half awake, he becomes unbearable.

Sleepy voice? He notices.

Messy hair? He notices.

Stealing his tea? Absolutely noticed.

And weaponized.

But beneath the teasing is deep attentiveness. He remembers exactly how you take your morning drink.

He notices if you slept poorly.

He notices tension in your shoulders before you mention it.

And if he senses stress? His affection becomes quieter. More deliberate.

A hand lingering at your lower back.

A kiss to your forehead.

A calm reminder to slow down.

With Katsumi, mornings feel like love woven into ritual.

🐉 Retsu Kaioh

Retsu’s mornings are calm, graceful and quietly nurturing. He treats morning care almost like a ritual of respect, for himself and for you.

—

Retsu wakes with remarkable stillness.

No jolting awake. No grogginess. Just awareness arriving like water settling.

He breathes. Centers himself.

And becomes conscious of the world in layers.

The first layer, with you beside him, is always warmth.

Your warmth.

Retsu’s mornings are deeply ritualistic. He values discipline, yes but also mindfulness. To him, how one begins the day matters.

It shapes the spirit. So he treats mornings with care.

And that care extends naturally to you.

If you’re asleep, he moves with extraordinary precision to avoid waking you. Years of martial discipline make him absurdly quiet.

Yet if you stir the second he moves, sleepily reaching for him, he stops. Immediately.

That sleepy instinct of yours affects him more than he expects because there is something profoundly intimate about being sought before consciousness fully returns.

If your hand catches his sleeve, he’s done for, he’s staying. At least for a little while.

Retsu is also quietly domestic in ways people may not expect.

Tea is often involved.

Warm drinks.

Balanced breakfast.

Small acts of care.

He doesn’t fuss.

He simply notices needs before words arrive.

Cold hands? Warm mug already waiting.

Stiff shoulders? He notices posture instantly.

Poor sleep? He sees it in your eyes.

And if you’re especially tired, his voice becomes softer. Almost impossibly gentle.

“Rest a little longer.” Not a command. An invitation.

With Retsu, mornings feel peaceful.

Grounding.

Like being loved by someone who pays attention to everything.

🔔 Kaoru Hanayama

Hanayama’s mornings are slow, peaceful and wonderfully unhurried. He never rushes your first moments awake, preferring to quietly enjoy the simple comfort of sharing the morning with you.

—

Hanayama has never needed much sleep. Years of responsibility, late nights and a life where danger could appear without warning taught him to wake easily and fully.

So more often than not he’s awake before you. He never minds. In fact….He rather likes it.

Morning is one of the few times no one expects anything from him.

No meetings.

No subordinates.

No decisions.

Just silence.

And you.

He’ll lie perfectly still for surprisingly long stretches, one arm around your waist while you remain comfortably tucked against his chest.

His breathing is slow. The rhythmic rise and fall beneath your cheek eventually becomes something you unconsciously synchronize with.

Hanayama notices as he notices everything. Like the way you unconsciously curl closer when the room is cool. How one foot always finds his leg sometime during the night. How your hand instinctively searches for him if he shifts even an inch.

He never comments on it. He simply lets himself enjoy it.

Sometimes he’ll glance down from the book he’s reading to find you’ve somehow migrated all the way across the bed, until you’re almost completely on top of him.

He doesn’t move you. He just adjusts the blanket around your shoulders.

If you wake first, there’s a good chance you’ll catch him already looking at you.

Not intensely. Not in a way that feels intrusive.

Just….Quietly. Almost thoughtfully.

When your eyes finally open, he’ll give the smallest nod.

“Morning.” His voice is still rough from sleep, lower than usual.

If you smile at him, the corners of his own mouth lift just enough to count as a smile.

It’s subtle but genuine.

Breakfast is rarely elaborate. Hanayama prefers simple food, good coffee and an unhurried pace.

If you’re still waking up, he’ll simply slide your mug toward you before you’ve even asked. Sugar already added the way you like it.

If you’re the type to wander into the kitchen wearing one of his oversized shirts, he’ll glance up from whatever he’s doing.

Pause.

Take in the sight.

Then quietly look away again.

Not because he dislikes it.

Quite the opposite.

He likes it enough that he has to collect himself for a second.

The only outward sign is the faint pink coloring the tips of his ears.

If you notice and grin at him, he'll pretend nothing happened.

You both know better.

One habit becomes obvious after you’ve lived together long enough.

Whenever you’re leaving the house together, Hanayama always fixes something before you walk out the door.

A crooked collar.

A wrinkle in your sleeve.

A loose scarf.

He does it without thinking.

Large hands impossibly gentle as they smooth everything back into place. Only after he’s satisfied does he give one small nod.

Now you’re ready.

It’s never about appearances. It’s about care.

His quiet way of saying, “I’ve got you.”

And before either of you steps outside, he almost always rests one broad hand briefly against the small of your back.

A light touch. Barely there. Just enough to guide you forward together.

It’s such a small thing.

Yet somehow, it becomes your favorite part of every morning.

🥩Jack Hanma

Jack’s mornings revolve around discipline but living with a partner slowly teaches him that not every morning has to begin with training. Sometimes it can begin with simply staying in bed five minutes longer because you’re still asleep on his chest.

—

Jack wakes before sunrise. Every day. Without exception. His internal clock has been carved into him through years of obsession.

His eyes open. His mind is immediately awake.

His body is already planning the day’s training before he’s fully sat up.

At least….that was how mornings used to work.

Then you came along.

Now his first thought isn’t his workout. It’s considerably more complicated.

‘Can I get up without waking them?’

The answer is usually, no.

Because sometime during the night you’ve become attached to him. One arm across his ribs. One leg tangled with his. Your face buried comfortably against his chest as though his heartbeat is your favorite lullaby.

Jack looks down.

Studies the situation.

Calculates.

Could he carefully slide away? Possibly.

Would you wake? Almost certainly.

He exhales through his nose. Then settles back against the pillows.

Five more minutes.

Training can wait five more minutes.

If someone had told the younger Jack Hanma that he’d willingly delay training because someone looked too comfortable sleeping on him, he would’ve laughed them out of the room.

Yet here he is. Absolutely trapped. Not that he’d ever compare it to being truly trapped.

He’d describe it as more so being temporarily unavailable.

If you wake slowly, you’re often greeted by the deep vibration of his voice before you even open your eyes.

“Morning.” It’s always quiet. Almost cautious. Like he doesn’t want to startle you.

If you answer by making a sleepy little noise and hiding your face against him again….

Jack is finished, completely.

He’ll stare at the ceiling for another several minutes, pretending he’s merely waiting.

He’s not fooling anyone. Especially not you.

Eventually responsibility wins. After all Jack has a schedule.

Meals.

Training.

Recovery.

Everything has its place.

He slips from bed with incredible care, somehow managing to move a body his size without jostling the mattress much at all.

By the time you wander into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from your eyes, he’s already halfway through preparing breakfast.

His own meal looks almost scientific.

Measured portions.

Protein.

Nutritional precision.

Yours is noticeably different because he knows you don’t eat like he does. He’s memorized your preferences.

He knows whether you’re hungry first thing in the morning or need an hour.

Whether you reach for fruit before toast.

Whether coffee comes before conversation.

He never makes a production out of remembering.

He simply does it.

If you shuffle over and wrap your arms around him from behind while he’s cooking, Jack freezes for half a second. Not because he dislikes it but unexpected affection still catches him off guard.

His hand instinctively comes to rest over yours. Large fingers covering your intertwined hands completely. “You’ll make me burn breakfast.”

You mumble something into his back.

Neither of you moves.

Despite his complaint, he makes no effort whatsoever to untangle you.

Eventually, when breakfast is finished and it’s time for him to leave for training, he’ll gather his gym bag, check that everything is packed and head for the door.

Then stop. Turn around. Walk back over to you.

Without saying a word, he bends down and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

It’s never rushed. Never absent minded. Always deliberate.

Only then does he straighten. “Lock the door after me.”

You nod. He nods back.

Simple. Practical.

Then he’s gone.

It isn’t until you’ve lived together for months that you realize something.

No matter how early he leaves, no matter how demanding the day’s training will be, Jack has never once walked out that door without coming back for that goodbye kiss.

To anyone else, it would seem like an insignificant part of his morning. To Jack it’s become just as much a part of his routine as training itself.

And somehow, that realization means more than all the words he never quite says.

🥊 Muhammad Ali Jr.

Ali Jr. is absolutely a morning flirt. He loves being the first thing you see when you wake up and if he can make you laugh before you’ve even had coffee, he considers it a successful start to the day.

—

Muhammad Ali Jr. is always awake before you. Not because he’s naturally an early bird. But because somehow you always end up stealing the blankets.

Every. Single. Night.

He cracks one eye open to discover that you’ve somehow managed to cocoon yourself while he’s left clinging to one lonely corner.

“.…Unbelievable.” He mutters it with absolutely no conviction because he’s smiling.

He could tug the blanket back. Instead, he sighs dramatically and scoots closer until your shared warmth makes up for it. Problem solved.

For a while, he simply watches you.

Your sleepy expression.

The way your breathing evens out.

The tiny noises you make when you’re dreaming.

It’s oddly peaceful.

There are no tournaments. No expectations. No rivals. Just the quiet sound of someone he loves existing beside him.

Sometimes he wonders how something so ordinary became one of his favorite parts of the day.

When you finally begin to wake, he notices immediately.

Your eyelashes flutter.

Your nose wrinkles.

You stretch just enough to bump into him.

Ali grins. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

You groan. “Nope.”

“Nope?”

“I’m asleep.”

He laughs. “I can literally see your eyes open.”

“They’re sleeping.”

“You’ve got some talented eyeballs.”

A sleepy smile finally breaks across your face.

Victory. He lives for that.

Ali genuinely enjoys making you smile before either of you have properly started the day.

It becomes a personal challenge.

Terrible jokes. Ridiculous voices. Overly dramatic complaints that you’ve “committed blanket theft.” Anything to earn that half awake laugh that sounds softer than your usual one.

Eventually the two of you stumble toward the kitchen together.

Breakfast is rarely quiet. Ali talks while cooking. He talks while making coffee.

He talks while searching for the spatula that’s somehow in the refrigerator because one of you wasn’t awake enough to put it away properly.

If you’re still sleepy enough to simply lean against the counter watching him, he’ll wander over every few minutes just to steal another kiss.

One to your forehead.

Another to your temple.

Maybe one to your cheek.

“If you keep doing that,” you mumble, “breakfast’s never getting finished.”

He grins. “I don’t see the problem.”

Even after eating, he’ll linger.

If you’re getting ready for work or heading out somewhere, he’ll trail after you through the house, pretending he’s looking for something.

He’s not.

He’s looking for excuses.

One more hug.

One more conversation.

One more kiss before you leave.

Eventually you catch on. “You just don’t want me to go.”

He doesn’t even bother denying it. “Nope.”

“You know I’ll be back.”

“I know.”

“So why are you looking at me like that?”

He smiles because the answer is embarrassingly simple. “Because seeing you leave is still the hardest part of my morning.”

You kiss him one more time. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“I know.”

He watches you walk out the door. Then shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “Still don’t like it.”

Every single morning.

🥒Pickle

Pickle doesn’t understand clocks, alarms or busy schedules. His mornings revolve around instinct, and one instinct quickly becomes stronger than the others, making sure you’re safe before either of you starts the day.

—

Pickle wakes the way wild animals do. Not suddenly. Not groggily. Simply, aware.

One moment he’s asleep. The next, golden eyes are open, quietly taking in everything around him.

The sounds outside.

The scent of the air.

The steady rhythm of your breathing beside him.

That last one always captures his attention first.

Before he moves, before he stretches, before he thinks about anything else, he checks on you.

You are still warm.

Still breathing evenly.

Still tucked safely against him.

Good.

His instincts settle immediately.

During the night, you’ve inevitably migrated closer.

Sometimes your head rests against his shoulder. Sometimes you’ve curled against his chest. Sometimes you’ve somehow claimed one of his enormous arms as your pillow.

Pickle never minds.

In fact, without realizing it, he encourages it. Even asleep, if you drift too far away, his arm instinctively finds you again.

Not possessive. Protective.

His body simply decides, ‘My person belongs close.’

If he wakes before you, he doesn’t feel any need to hurry.

There are no appointments.

No alarms.

No schedules demanding his attention.

So he stays exactly where he is.

Watching.

Occasionally brushing a few strands of hair away from your face with surprising care.

His hands are huge. Scarred. Built for survival. Yet around you they’re astonishingly gentle. As though some deeply buried instinct understands exactly how delicate you are.

Eventually, you begin to stir.

Before your eyes even open, Pickle notices. He lets out a soft rumble deep in his chest.

Low. Warm. Almost questioning.

You smile without opening your eyes. “Morning.”

He answers with another quiet sound, gently nudging his forehead against yours.

It’s become your own little language.

No words. None needed.

When you finally sit up, Pickle follows.

Immediately checking you over with curious eyes. Not because he expects something to be wrong. It’s just that making sure you’re well has quietly become part of his day.

If you yawn, he yawns.

Huge. Unashamed.

If you stretch, he’ll often stretch too, his entire frame rolling with catlike ease until every muscle loosens.

Watching him first thing in the morning is honestly a little mesmerizing. Raw strength moving with surprising grace.

Breakfast is….an adventure.

You’ve slowly introduced him to more cooked meals, though every now and then he’ll still eye something with the curiosity of a man wondering whether it’s edible in its current state.

He likes helping, even if his definition of helping occasionally involves carrying every ingredient to the counter in one trip because his arms are simply that big. (Can’t forget the dinosaur meat!)

And if you’re making breakfast together, there’s a very good chance he’ll wander over behind you just because he wants to be close.

You might be stirring something on the stove when two enormous arms quietly settle around your waist. His chin comes to rest gently on top of your head.

You laugh. “Good morning to you too.”

Another contented rumble vibrates through his chest.

He isn’t asking for anything. He simply enjoys standing there.

Feeling your heartbeat.

Breathing the same air.

Starting the day together.

Eventually, whatever the day has planned, you’ll gather your things and head toward the door.

Pickle follows without question.

You stop. Turn. Smile.

“I’ll be back later.”

He tilts his head.

You point to yourself.

Then toward the door.

Then back to him.

“I’ll come back.”

It took time but he’s learned those words.

His expression softens in recognition.

Slowly, he reaches out, gently cups the side of your face and bumps his forehead against yours one last time.

It’s his version of saying, “Be safe.”

You smile, pat his arm and head out.

When you glance back from the doorway, he’s still standing exactly where you left him. Watching until you’re completely out of sight.

Only then does he finally turn back inside.

For Pickle, mornings aren’t measured by the clock.

They’re measured by one simple certainty.

He saw you wake. He knows you’re safe.

And that’s enough for the day to begin.

🦇 Hector Doyle

Doyle’s mornings begin cautiously, a habit born from years of never feeling completely safe. Over time, though, waking up beside you becomes the one part of his day that finally convinces him he can lower his guard.

—

Doyle has never been a particularly peaceful sleeper. His body has been conditioned by prisons, violence and constant vigilance.

He wakes at the slightest unfamiliar sound.

A floorboard.

A car outside.

A door closing somewhere down the street.

His eyes open instantly. His mind immediately searching for danger before he’s even fully conscious.

For a split second, every morning is the same.

Then he feels you. Warm against his side. One of your hands loosely resting across his chest. Your slow, even breathing. The familiar scent of your shampoo lingering on the pillow beside him.

His shoulders loosen. Just enough. Enough that the instinct to immediately get out of bed fades.

It’s becomes comfortable.

Comfort. The word still feels strange.

You rarely wake before he does. So Doyle has developed a quiet habit.

He simply studies your sleeping face with a curiosity he never expected to possess.

You look.…different. Softer.

There are no expressions to decipher.

No masks.

No defenses.

Just you.

Sometimes he catches himself wondering what you could possibly be dreaming about. Whether he’s in those dreams. Whether you’re smiling because of something he said yesterday.

He’d never ask nut the thought lingers.

If a strand of hair falls across your face, he’ll move it aside with surprising gentleness. His fingers pause for only a second against your temple before he pulls his hand back.

Almost embarrassed by his own tenderness.

The funny thing is, you’re rarely actually asleep. You’ve learned his routine by now.

The feather light touch brushing your hair back.

The tiny sigh he gives when he thinks you can’t hear it.

The way he quietly checks the locks from bed by glancing toward the bedroom door.

So one morning, without opening your eyes, you mumble, “Good morning.”

Doyle freezes. “You were awake.”

“Busted.” A sheepish grin spreads across your face as you finally crack one eye open. “I wanted to see how long you’d keep staring.”

His ears immediately warm. “Wasn’t staring.”

“Oh?”

“No.”

“You’ve been ‘not staring’ for a while..”

“I was assessing.”

You laugh. “Assessing what?”

Silence.

He looks away. “.…You.”

You smile so warmly it makes him regret answering.

Then, before he can escape the conversation, you reach over and gently take his hand. “You know….” You lace your fingers through his. “I like waking up with you.”

Doyle doesn’t answer right away. He isn’t good at accepting affection. Compliments still feel unfamiliar. Like clothes that don’t quite fit.

Instead, his thumb slowly brushes across your knuckles. An almost unconscious movement. His version of saying, ‘I heard you.’

Eventually the two of you get up together.

He’s surprisingly useful in the kitchen, though he’ll absolutely complain the entire time.

“If you’d stop distracting me.”

“I’m literally sitting at the table.”

“Exactly.”

“You looked at me.”

“You smiled first.”

“It’s suspicious.”

“It’s breakfast.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“Making me soft.”

The accusation hangs in the air. You burst into laughter. Doyle immediately regrets speaking.

“You said that out loud.”

“I absolutely did not.”

As the morning goes on, little habits reveal themselves.

He’ll automatically pour your coffee while making his own.

If the room is cold, he’ll silently hand you his jacket before putting one on himself.

If you’re searching the house for your keys, he’ll already have found them.

He notices things. Small things. The sort of details most people overlook.

Not because he’s trying to impress you but because before you, paying attention kept him alive. Now, that same instinct has simply redirected itself.

Toward taking care of you.

When it’s finally time for one of you to leave, Doyle walks you to the door without thinking.

You tease him about it once. “You know you don’t have to escort me every morning.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you?”

He hesitates. Searching for words that don’t come easily. Finally, he shrugs one shoulder. “I like seeing you off.”

Simple and honest.

You smile, step closer and kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Doyle watches you reach for the doorknob.

Then quietly catches your wrist.

You turn back.

He doesn’t say anything.

He just leans down, presses one quick kiss against your forehead and immediately looks away as though he hadn’t planned it.

“There.”

You blink. “There?”

“So you don’t complain later that I forgot.”

A terrible excuse. You both know it.

You grin. “I wasn’t going to complain.”

“You would’ve thought about it.”

“I would’ve.”

“Hm.” He gives one small, satisfied nod. “Exactly.”

You laugh all the way down the walkway.

Standing in the doorway, Doyle watches you go with the smallest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

It’s gone before anyone else would ever notice.

For a man who once believed he wasn’t built for ordinary happiness, a quiet morning, a shared cup of coffee and a goodbye kiss at the door have become the strongest proof that maybe….

Just maybe….

He’s finally found something worth coming home to.

03. Why is he here? He's supposed to be in jail yet he's re-arranging your guts in your apartment

04. Spec uses brute force to get what he wants

05. He's never tried to hide it, he's a killer. He'd kill your whole family and come to your room fucking you like he hasn't done anything

✦ ╮ Kaiou Dorian

01. Catching his little princess alone, spread on the couch so innocently for him.

02. Fine, he won't take your virginity but he's still going to make sure you know you're his.

03. I have nothing to say this just reminds me of him

04. Pussy eating with your silver fox

✦ ╮ Ryuukou Yanagi

01. It's his princess's reward for being such a good girl this whole week

02. It's his princess's reward for being such a naughty girl this whole week

03. He just tied you up and shoved you in his trunk. You don't know how long you've been on the road, or where you're even going.

04. You're going to explain to him why you acted so naughty and why he shouldn't punish you

05. After a long day, He goes home to his princess needy and begging for him, just what he needs

✦ ╮ Hector Doyle

01. Shh... as long as you stay still it will be over soon. Maybe next you'd listen

02. In the prison, Doyle would always visit the physical therapist, reporting a feeling down below. And you'd always inspect it (with a gun to your head)

03. Those are Doyle's hands. Slowly caressing you, feeling you and intruding your warmth

04. It's that time again when he visits you, promising he'll take you with him one day when he disappears into the night

05. How long has it been since you two touched? You can see it by looking at how desperate you are for his fingers.

✦ ╮ Sikorsky

01. I can imagine Sikorsky chocking you with his length because of a passing comment he did not quite like.

02. You kept kicking the back of his seat. Pissed off, he grabbed you to the front and punished you

03. His fucking princess being fucked raw and hard in the ass

04. You thought he was gone, sentenced to death they said. So why is he in your room, hand over your mouth preventing your screams on his death date?

05. He taunts your opening while you beg him, all that pleading gone to waste his length intrudes your lips.

✦ ╮ Two unrelated death convicts, escaped at the same time for one purpose, to taste that pussy.

sikorsky[left] choxking you , doyle [right] pounding you