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Hanma Shuji, one of the most dangerous men in Japan, known for being one of the top admins in Toman. His sadistic antics make it hard for anyone to truly understand what his motives are. The violence, danger and risk of death all fulfil the man's need for thrill.
As to how you manage to have such a man spend every penny he had for you was the greatest skill you possessed. He found you working at a quaint little cafe, an establishment he happened to own. The way you would welcome him with warm words and such a polite smile brought a glimmer of light into his dark days.
"How long have you been working here?" He asked one day as you poured him a cup of freshly brewed coffee. A pout pushed itself onto your lips, "About three months, why?"
He waited until the pitcher of warm liquid landed onto the table top, his hand taking yours into his. "Honey, let me show you something better than his tacky ass place. Come with me, won't you?" he cooed, his lips brushing along the skin of your hand.
The words couldn't leave you any quicker, "I will, I'll come with you, Hanma."
From that day on, all you've come to know what luxury beyond what the mind could fathom. Hanma only put you in the best fabrics, purest of golds and jewels and the most expensive of bags and shoes, all to your liking.
He even took as far as purchasing a penthouse in Japan's most expensive city for the both of you to live.
As glamorous as it all was, you hated how Hanma threw you to the side when it came to work. Once his phone began ringing, that would be the last you'd be seeing him for at least a week. He never communicated anything to you, leaving you completely in the dark.
It follows the same pattern, Hanma ignores all your calls, texts, and pleas for attention. As much as it annoys you, he loves it all the more. He loves driving you near mad for him, up until the moment he finally picks up the fourth call in a row.
Your needy whimpers sing in his ears, the thought of ruining the pretty face he loves so much flooding his mind.
"Do you need something?" He asks harshly, the scowl seeping with each word. You hate yourself for allowing him to speak to you in such a manner, but the aching within your body always tells a different story.
You wouldn't dare be so bash as to tell him that it was him and the safe presence he offered, so a simple white lie seemed to be the best route. "I want a new purse, can I get it?"
The line goes silent for a minute, Hanma processing what it was you truly wanted. "We'll talk about when I get home. Alright, princess?"
Just like that, you had Hanma coming back to take care of you and the heat piercing between your legs.
Once he got home, you instantly clung onto him, leading Hanma back to the bedroom. You wore his favorite gold lace set, something that would get your message across with ease.
