- ﾟ+* ꔫ — 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 : hanma shuji.
content: f!reader. bad toman!shuji. mentions of murder, blood and violence. you call him daddy, unprotected sex, you fuck on the hood of his car, you suck blood off his fingers, he licks blood off your body (not your own), biting, body marking, shuji's a little crazy ♡.
— . ｡˚ ♡ when kisaki gives hanma a little birthday treat by sending him on a hunt for some traitors, hanma decides he wants to have a little more fun — with you.
an: i'm terribly late but here it is! happy birthday shuji my love.
the night is still — the sky dark, the moon blocked out by the heaviness of the clouds, and the expanse overhead stretches like a void, consuming all that lay underneath.
the sounds of the city fade further away, giving way to the clack of your heels and the thud of hanma's shoes against the asphalt with every step you take away from the main streets — following him as he turns wildly around the final corner into an alley, and you both at last make it to a safe place.
you stop just short of bumping into him, and the scent of sweat and drying blood, mixed with a familiar hint of cigarettes and men's cologne, invades your senses with your next breath.
you taste rust on your tongue, at the back of your throat, and now that you've stopped running, the smell and the taste remind you of how badly you've both just fucked your mission up.
"you know what," hanma laughs, barely out of breath as he lurches to a stop beside his car, parked unceremoniously at the back of the alley, concealed by the shadows of the buildings and midnight gloom. "i take it back. kisaki knew what he was doing when he sent me out to work on my birthday."
he gives his gun a little shake, watching as it spews the last wisp of smoke from its mouth, before putting it back in his pocket and turning to you with a grin. "heh, that was the most fun i've had in a while."
you've known hanma quite well for quite a while, even intimately so because you've fucked on occasion, but still — you think you'll never quite get used to seeing him like this.
his suit had been clean when you'd left headquarters earlier that night — it was a grey two piece, form fitting and accentuating his lanky figure, and it was as expensive as it was lovely.
but when you'd watched him in the warehouse, told to stand by on guard in case someone interrupted his little kill job, you'd witnessed how he dirtied it, how he got it covered in blood.
the sleeves were dripping red, his white dress shirt splattered with arterial spray — and you couldn't tell if it was his own blood or not that was trickling down his chin, as he slid his tongue out to lick it up.
"fuckin' shit, you are," he'd cackled, on his haunches over the victim of his hunt, as the man under him screamed for mercy. "think you can fuck my boss over and get away with it? i'll kill you. yeah? say my fuckin' name with your last fuckin' breath."
and when he'd gotten back up, his hair was tousled, black and blonde curls falling over lusty gold eyes as he threw his head back and laughed — tall and broad shouldered, with a long, freshly used blade in his hand and with his pale skin stained red with blood, he'd laughed.
and god, he looked so fucking hot.
