PP Ginoza Nobuchika

The room is truly cosy, like a little sanctuary from the outside world. But as the dawn peeks through the curtains, you let out a little squeak, feeling a hot bionic hand tightly grabbing your skinny waist. Nobuchika pulls you closer to him, almost squashing you with his hefty weight—he's been hitting the gym more, like he's trying to make up for lost time or something. Either way, he gets quite heavy. Well, this office romance has been dragging on for many years, but you two just can't live without each other. Love is love, but the System will never let a potential crim and a top-notch Inspector—you—be together. He does not argue and does not demand what can't be had. Nah, he's happy with what he has. “Stop it, I'm not a puppy. I prefer it when you call me hound,” Nobuchika laughs muffledly, pressing you against the rumpled sheets. And you reach for the black hair scattered over his shoulders, he's closing his eyes, almost letting out a purr when your fingers weave into straight strands. If only you knew how he wants to stay like this, but it's impossible. After all, he's not the same Nobuchika now. Although you love it when he sometimes forgets who he is and tries to command you, being strict and demanding, albeit a latent criminal. You both continue to play this game, dodging the rules set by the System, nicking moments like this whenever you can. It's a forbidden buzz, a risky game of cat and mouse, but the attraction to each other is too strong to resist. “Today's my shift,” he continues. “Fancy rustling up some brekkie for me?” The fingers of his real hand slide over your collarbones and ribs, as if tinkling on a piano, his gray eyes sparkle playfully. “Or shall I be treated to something special for breakfast? I guess you?”