#Mark puni

[markpuni]

Intrigué depuis mon adolescence par la fessée je n'imaginais pas qu'elle ferait partie de la gestion de discipline lorsque je serai tout jeune adulte . Cet après midi là, en 1993 j'avais prévu un entretien pour réaliser un stage dans un restaurant .Pendant l'essai , un accident technique est arrivé , les portes battantes de la salle ont tapées de plein fouet mon plateau de verres tout propres , je m'apprêtais à la ranger dans la console .En fin de journée ,la responsable du restaurant me fait remarqué la casse des verres en l'écoutant d'un air désolé . Plus tard , elle me demande de l'accompagner dans un grand magasin ,pour acheter de nouveaux verres pour remplacer la casse .Sur le chemin de retour , la maitresse d'hôtel m'offre un verre chez elle .Nous en profitons pour changer les menus sur les cartes , et faire un point sur la cave . Sylvie , s'avance vers moi et me questionna encore sur le choc avec les portes et le plateau de verres .. Sa question est ce que j'aurai pu éviter de casser les verres ? Ma réponse , oui Madame je pense que j'aurai du marcher moins vite , mais ne vous inquiétez pas je ferai attention maintenant ....

Maitre d'hôtel "- Tu reconnais donc avoir fait une bêtise ?

Moi -Oui je reconnais !

Maitre d'hôtel - Je pense que tu mérites une punition rétorque la Chef

Moi - Une punition ? mais je n'ai pas fait exprès !

Maitre d'hôtel- Je m'assurer que tu retiennes bien la leçon pour éviter de nouveaux verres à la poubelle !"

Quelques pas vers moi , elle agrippe mon poignet et d'un ton ferme :

Maitre d'hôtel- "Tu vas recevoir une fessée ! je vais t'apprendre à courir !

Elle glisse sa main entre mes jeans et mon t-shirt , déboutonnant , et descends tout aux chevilles .Me voilà en slip , devant elle quand elle pose sa main de nouveau sur ma nuque et m'ordonna de m'allonger sur ses genoux . Elle assise sur son fauteuil et sur la petite table , elle y avait déposer une brosse plate à cheveux carré en bois, mon regard fut saisi de cette image . Sur ses genoux , elle retrancha mon slip qu'elle pliait sur le coté du sofa . Elle giflait soigneusement mon derrière en faisant la leçon , et je devais répéter ce qu'elle me disait .Une petite pause , quand elle prend la brosse et puis l'applique sur le haut de mes cuisses ! une dizaine de coups . Et m'envoya au coin jusqu'au diné ..

Sylvie m'a suivi quelques mois ensuite.. Je me souviendrai des leçons ,quelle belle autorité !

[beauty-marked-beauties]

Today's Beauty-Marked Cutie is: Futaba Aasu from Puni Puni Poemii

[mulanism]

lovesick ryomen sukuna is literally infesting my mind and giving me brainworms and i don’t think anyone gets it. how absolutely smitten sukuna would become with you, the puny little human he had originally thought to be unworthy of his gaze, let alone his time and attention.

it's nothing but time, the healer and killer of all things, that makes this cursed man realize just how much his entire world revolves around you. how he'd end humanity itself before he'd allow things to be any other way between you two.

lovesick sukuna who loathes being in proximity to those he deems as insignificant and inferior. he gets awfully irritated breathing the same air as those lowly underlings, and he predictably doesn’t like the touch of anyone else.

but when it comes to you, he has this unbridled desire to always be skin-to-skin, to keep you flush against his massive body and never let go until he absolutely has to. it's troublesome, but the weight of you in his lap keeps him oddly pacified whether he wants to acknowledge his restrained and mellowed demeanor in your presence or not.

lovesick sukuna who doesn’t like when others try to touch him in any way, shape, or form. but he’d let you do anything. you could dig your nails into his skin, tear his heart out, and he’d do absolutely nothing to stop you.

he is completely yours, just as you are completely his.

suggesting that sukuna enjoys your touch earns you nothing but unwarranted ridicule and excessive condemnation from him if you ever mention it; his chest rumbles as he reprimands you for being so foolish—all while he makes no move to stop your hands from brushing those wisps of pink hair away from his line of sight. he doesn't even interfere when your tender lips carefully brush against the tattoo markings littered across his face.

lovesick sukuna who is fully aware of how much he likes to return your touch, too. there was a time when he told himself he was far too busy to wallow in trivial matters of the flesh; but now it has gotten to a point where he can't stop himself from indulging in yours.

you feel so soft, so supple, and warm beneath his calloused fingers. sukuna's hands are big—large enough that a single hand of his almost completely covers the expanse of your tummy. the size difference between you two both humors and fascinates him, so much that he can't stop himself from kneading the plush of your stomach or the soft flesh of your thighs. it was sukuna's nature to barbarously ruin and pulverize everything he got his hands on, but here you were being the only exception.

lovesick sukuna who is never one to hold back in anything he does, yet he finds himself handling you with a little bit of care that he wouldn't dare extend to another soul on this earth. truthfully, he wants to devour you completely, but he understands he could snap you in half if he doesn't remain mindful about the amount of force he's exerting when he's bending and twisting and handling you every which way.

he has his moments where his uninhibited carnality and lust speak for him; when he loses control of himself and lets out out those guttural sounds that he never lets slip through his lips unless he's with you. sounds that are never heard outside of your most intimate moments, like the ones where he can't stop marking you and leaving behind dark, purple love-bites that will last a little while longer than usual.

lovesick sukuna has moments where his senses are clouded with the smell and taste of you as you exhale softly through parted, kiss-swollen lips while you lay dazed beneath him. those moments where he's kissed you for far too long and taken nearly all of the oxygen out of your lungs. vermillion eyes watch as your chest heaves and you puff out those small little breaths, and sukuna thinks it's cute how he can render you that way with little else but a kiss.

lovesick sukuna who thinks you are ignorant. he believes you don't truly realize the power you hold over him. you don't truly comprehend how he would scorch and set ablaze the entire world on your command. all you had to do was say the word, and he'd do anything. it's a bit unsettling to think about how tightly you've got him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it, but there's a part of sukuna that's in no rush to reveal such a vulnerability to you.

sukuna is not one for sweetly saccharine words and sentiments—but if there is one thing that rings true, it’s that his mind is constantly consumed by you—you, you, you.

[ellecdc]

oh my god. I love your slytherin reader x marauders!!!! your writing is amazing!!!! could you do like a part three I guess? but like of later in their relationship and the reader has this little first year friend (who she is forced to tutor but she actually likes him but won't admit it) and he reminds her of the boys and the boy just like brings her flowers and chocolates and stuff and the boys see it and James gets all jealous and Sirius is just like "nah just watch mate" and expect the reader to get all annoyed but she doesn't she just doesn't say anything (because she secretly finds the boy sweet and doesn't wanna be mean to the tiny marauder like man) so then they are all in disbelief and pouty

sorry that was very long

hehe...hehehe.....this request is from March 14th 🫢 thank youuuuu for the prompt and sorry for the huge wait..... [also, let this perhaps let people know that I do have old requests saved!]

poly!marauders x fiesty!reader who has an admirer [1.2k words]

p1 // p2 // p3

CW: fem!reader, reader is feisty, Sirius is upset she's not feistier

“I’m not sure if you boys were aware,” Marlene drawled as she plopped herself onto an empty wingback chair in the Gryffindor common room, “but there’s some ickle little first year making moves on your girl.”

Her comment was met by a snort from James, a bark of laughter from Sirius, and an eye roll from Remus. 

“Thoughts and prayers to the first year, then.” James commented, never looking up from the rubik’s cube he was fiddling with as his back rested against Sirius’ folded legs. 

“I don’t know.” Marlene sing-songed. “He seems pretty sweet on her.” 

“Please.” Sirius scoffed. “Our darling girl is the least approachable person in Hogwarts, I hardly believe there’s a wix bold enough to solicit her, let alone a puny little first year.”

“He didn’t have to solicit her, she’s tutoring him.” 

“Honestly, Marls, I’ve never been less concerned about anything in my entire life.” James admitted.

“Could be interesting to watch, yeah?” Sirius offered with a mischievous wink, nudging James with his knee. 

Remus rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, though he did close his book with a mischievous smirk. “Someone should be there to save him from our little viper.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!” Marlene laughed as she waved them off, not bothering to hide her devious grin. 

It didn’t take long for the boys to find you, seeing as you were haunting what you had early on in your schooling dubbed the ‘most superior table’ in the library. You’d told them what made it so, but James had been paying more attention to the way your lips were moving and less on the actual words that were leaving them. 

“Oh Merlin, the poor sod has no clue.” Sirius all but giggled as they crouched behind one of the aisles of books surrounding your table. 

“Not terrible.” They heard you say as you looked over his work, and based on the boy's beaming smile one would assume you’d given him high praise.  “But you’re getting ahead of yourself and not showing your work.”

“Does showing my work matter if the answers are right?” The kid asked, and James couldn’t blame the kid - he’d had many-a-conversations along the same lines over the years. 

You simply lifted his parchment and walloped him over the head for it. “Yes, showing your work matters; you will lose marks if you don’t.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to let you down.” The kid said solemnly, and James’ heart momentarily melted before he realised that was his darling angel that he was putting the moves on. 

He waited for you to groan and call him a rotten toerag, but you simply shook your head and instructed him to do the next question, making sure to show his work this time. 

“Get a load of this kid; she’s gotta be just about ready to hex him.” Sirius murmured. 

“I’m surprised she hasn’t, honestly.” James replied, causing Remus to snicker.

“The two of you have been hexed for less.”

The three were interrupted when the kid let out a theatrical gasp and dropped his quill. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!” He screeched before ripping open his book bag.

After far too long spent searching the inside of his bookbag, the kid withdrew a slightly crumpled rose, letting out a disappointed groan when he saw the state of it. “My astronomy textbook must’ve crushed it.”

“Why do you have a rose in your bag?” You deadpanned, and the kid was right back to beaming again.

“I brought it for you, of course. I picked the prettiest one for the prettiest girl.”

This was it, this was the moment they were here for; Sirius watched eagerly as Remus grimaced, each equally anxious for your no doubt cantankerous response. 

But it never came.

You simply let out a sound bordering a breath, a sigh, and a laugh as you gingerly took the wilted rose between two fingers. 

“Very thoughtful. Please get back to your homework.” Was all you offered him, but the kid seemed no less pleased as he picked up his quill and dutifully returned to his work. 

“What in the buggering fuck?” Sirius hissed, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Remus, but it was too late.

“Can I help you boys?” You drawled, though you never actually looked behind you where your three boyfriends were still hiding. 

“Yes, you can help me.” Sirius barked, storming out from behind the stacks followed closely by James and less closely by Remus who had the grace to look a little shamefaced for his spying. “You can help me understand what the hells all this is!”

“This is called tutoring and studying, Sirius, if you spent any time in a library, it might be more familiar to you.” You offered simply, turning a glare in Remus’ direction when he snorted. 

“Okay, swot, what I mean is why are you hear letting this little dugbog-”

“Sirius!” You chided quickly.

“Oh my gods! And you’re defending him!” Sirius continued shrilly, earning him various shushings from surrounding students. 

James couldn’t help but notice you roll your eyes in exasperation, but he also noticed the faintest hints of a smile dancing on your lips. 

“You’ve done well, Cameron; keep practising, and for the love of Merlin make sure you show your work next time or so help me gods…”

“Yes ma’am!” Cameron replied as he packed up his bag. “See you next week?”

“Just as we always have.” You drawled in a bored tone, though you offered him a smirk as he hustled out of the library. 

“I can’t believe you!” Sirius huffed as he took Cameron’s now vacated seat. 

“Angel…what is the meaning of all this?” James asked earnestly, causing Remus to snort as he had the decency to press a kiss to your hair in greeting. 

“If we’d have known you were meeting with new suitors, dove, we would have insisted on accompanying you to your tutoring sessions.”

“Oh please.” You dismissed. “He’s just a kid.”

“Uhm, and?” Sirius pouted.

“Sweetheart, we’ve seen you jinx a kid for sneezing too closely to you.” Remus reminded you, and your face darkened.

“Germ infested little freaks.”

“There’s our girl.” Sirius exclaimed. “I can’t believe you let him get away with any of that!” 

“He’s harmless.”

“He’s a flirt.” Sirius corrected.

“He’s you.” You shot back, and the three boys all looked at you with various levels of bemusement. 

“I beg your pardon?” James finally asked, and you shook your head as you began packing up your own bag. 

“He’s like a miniature version of the three of you; following me around and being abhorrently affectionate.”

“Well, hey, I think we’re, like, an appropriate amount of affectionate.” James tried. 

“No, it's sort of abhorrent sometimes.” Remus quickly agreed. 

“Babe…” Sirius cooed, causing Remus and James to grimace. “Are you going soft on us!?” 

Your eyes immediately darkened as you glowered at him, and if Sirius’ sudden flinch and the following yelp proved anything, you aimed a tame stinging jinx at him. 

“On the kid? Maybe.” You responded primly. “On the three of you? Jury’s still out.”

[unendingphantasm]

hiatus

[cosycafune]

JEALOUSY; EREN JAEGER:

a summary of this chapter: your boyfriend is mad at you for dismissing him the whole night, chatting away to your puny friend. naturally, he wants to have his way with you — just so your full focus is on him.

a synopsis of acts: smut, rough sex, corruption kink, sadistic tendencies, cumming, creampies, sizing, crying, brat taming and potentially more.

“Eren, please!” You so desperately spewed, your drool inevitably on display whilst Eren’s ample cock laid upon the bottom of your curling stomach.

“Please, what?” Eren bluntly questions you, the largeness of his delicious cock swiftly moving towards the soppiness of your folds.

Eren has sufficiently ruined the entirety of your resolve, mindlessly committing sexual acts that he know would have you eating out the palm of his broad hand. His hand. Not no random man your gaze steers upon, to elicit jealousy within the neglected aspects of him.

Inevitably, Eren knew you were his to indulge in — to stuff the vastness of his cock within and consistently breed you until you’re marked and tinted with a beautiful ivory.

“P-Put it in!” Whimpering, tearing and extremely dazed, you chew your bottom lip with the uttermost shame. Shame as the liveliness in Eren’s viridian, emotion-packed eyes completely admire yet scrutinise the desperation within your choked pleas.

“Why? You spent all day pretending to ignore me, just to talk to that aloof man,” At Eren’s harsh statement, his thick brows furrow before he skims the girth of his cock between your nimble thighs — unable to fathom the concept of not overwhelming and dominating you.

“B-Because I’m yours,” Gulping at your bestowed announcement, your eyes widen as Eren swiftly burrows himself within your cunt — leaving your eyes to widen erratically.

“Say it again,” Loathing the lack of repetition you gift, Eren greedily presses his hips upon your pelvic structure. Cock stricken, your purpose completely flees your lips at the impenetrable closeness of his blessed hips.

“‘M yours! All yours! Ah!” Your melodically generated moans command Eren into beginning to harshly pound within you, yearning to completely break away at the bratty exterior and interior you had settled upon him.

“Then, don’t do that shit again,” Eren grunts out, his eyes lovingly cloudy while he bucks his hips loudly within you — slamming into you at an inhumane pacing.

“F-Fuck! I won’t!” A barely comprehensible mess, you feel the beautiful within Eren’s pace — entwined with unwritten emotions.

Eren’s usually so whiny, so seeing him dominant, complex and riddled with anger heightened your emotions but also played upon your building guilt.

“Say it again!” Eren’s eyes boil and soothe at the concept of you lovingly taking his thick cock, completely overwhelmed and worshipping the heavenly feeling of it all.

“I love you…and I’m yours,” Softening slightly, Eren continues to abuse his reckless pace — his lips instinctively kissing your unchallenged lips.

“I-I love you, too,” Wavering momentarily, Eren lips delicately smother your own — all before he safely buries his head within the crook of your neck.

“Ah!” You harshly moan out, feeling yourself subconsciously cum upon the entirety of his inhumanely-thrusting cock.

“G-Got to be quick, I’ve got a concert soon,” Despite Eren’s suggestion, you innately wrap your toned legs around his sculpted waist — knowing that he’s bound to cum.

“I’d…get you pregnant, just so you’d be all…mine,” Eren chokes out, his delicate breaths laboured before he constructs himself into filling your flowery womb with the soul of his thick, white seed.

“Y-Yes!” Panting with false agreement, you glance into Eren’s strained eyes — drawing him into your homely arms.

“S-Shit,” Carried away, Eren comfortably pulls out of you — glimpsing at you with subtly glassy eyes.

“I’m sorry for making you jealous, Eren,” Apologising so sincerely, you press kisses upon his lips — uncaring for the arrays of cum that spew from your pulsating, abused cunt.

“Just don’t do it again,” Eren groans out, “I love you, though.” Muttering, curling into your hair stroking, Eren relishes all the love that you have embedded within him

“I won’t,” Kissing the crown of his forehead, you apply a kiss upon the top of Eren’s crumpled mind.

—

do not copy my work; all rights reserved. cosycafune, 2024.

[werecreature-addicted]

Werewolf who feels jealous of the human friends of his cute little human girlfriend, she is so cute and adorable that surely his human friends are in love with her, and he hates them, but he hates more the smell that they leave on her.

his pretty human always reeks of those useless men! even if she is just standing next to her friends, it is enough for the horrible smell of another man to permeate his girlfriend, and that stench completely covers the sweet aroma of his girl, so the loving werewolf must fuck her for hours until the unpleasant smell goes away and the sweet aroma he loves so much returns, leaving his scent on his girl's body so that she is marked as his, leaving her a panting, sticky, wet mess 🥰

His nose twitches as you walk into the house. He can smell it a mile away. A low growl builds in his throat, as you breeze past him.

"sorry sorry- I know you hate it," you say placatingly. He can tell none of your friends touched you, the scent isn't that strong, but it's still there, and he hates it. You don't even smell like yourself, let alone like him.

"I'll go shower if you think that would help?" you ask, no, he has a different plan.

He pins you down and throws your ankles over his shoulders. It's hard to think about your puny human friends when you're getting fucked dumb. Now all he can smell is the salt of your sweat and the musk of sex as he bullies his cock into you.

He unloads himself into you, leaving his scent deep inside of you. If you let him, he'll cum on you too, but if he has to choose, he'll cum inside of you every time.

He'll hold you close as you go to sleep that way, you still smell like him in the morning.

[ellitx]

Entrapment | Alastor x Reader

Okay, hear me out. Alastor being a darling husband he is with his darling wifey is cute and all, but what about a darling wanting to escape from Alastor himself?

word count: 2.3k

warnings: alastor is enough to be a warning already, depictions of blood and gore, toxic and unhealthy dynamic

When you were still alive, he always had his eyes on you and controlled you like his little puppet. You hated it, you hated being commanded and controlled for every little thing you did and if you even dared run away from him, he’d always manage to find you. You hate every atomic part of his existence so much that you’d be willing to kill yourself just so you could escape and get that taste of freedom.

But you can’t and he won’t let you.

Alastor would never allow the tip of the knife nor even a simple piece of office equipment reach your hands. And if someone has the audacity to touch his play toy, it’s time to say goodbye.

You know he’s a malicious murderer, and he knows that you know about it. If you’re feeling brave enough to tell it to the police then go ahead, because by the time you report this to them and leave the station, the next day you find yourself throwing up yesterday’s dinner upon hearing the cops were all dead.

No one will ever believe you that the infamous radio host of your city is a murderer. For a puny citizen like you, what power do you hold to convince everyone? They’ll laugh it off and say you’re crazy.

But it’s crazier how they are all deceived by the facade he puts on. His knife plunged into the chest of your coworker, their blood spluttering on his cheek.

Alastor’s wide smile was strained and wicked, the image of the blood dripping from your head and lips when he entered the broadcasting booth was as clear as his collection of polished knives.

The audacity to lay a hand on you and push you down the stairs. Do they have the right to push you off? Of course not! He’s the only one who could torment you until you break!

He’s the only one who could tarnish your being and leave a wounded mark on your soul and heart, a reminder for you there’s no one but himself who could make you so powerless and helpless.

Do they have the right to make you so confused? To put all the blame on you, as if you were the worst person in the world? To try their best to tear you apart piece by piece? Because, after all, it’s always the fault of someone else, right? The audacity to hurt you more than any human has ever hurt another human being before… The nerve to be sure you will never find true happiness again because you're now scarred for life.

He thrust the blade again, the rains of scarlet droplets continued to pour until his face and glasses were doused.

But he didn’t let it hinder him from making sure they were as good as dead. He lifted his head and took a glimpse at the sky above. It was gloomy, gray, and dark. Not much sunshine.

Alastor smiled, stabbing the knife at the corpse's chest before wiping off his glasses with his clean napkin. Then an idea clicked onto him.

It's the perfect time to give you a little visit.

He laughed under his breath and stood up straight.

He knew his outfit was not in good condition, but oh well... Perhaps, he’d instead leave a gift for you on your porch. Oh, how he wished he could make an unexpected appearance, just to witness the shock and horror on your face as Alastor comes to the hospital drenched in a coat of glistening crimson.

The anticipation of your reaction fueled his excitement, the more he thought about it, the bigger his grin became. If this would truly happen, it will surely be a sight to behold.

Still fragile from your time in the hospital, you stepped through the threshold of your home.

You missed the sight of its familiar structure, the only space you feel safe and protected, away from Alastor and your colleagues.

A sense of relief washed over you. The familiar sights and comforting aura of your own space enveloped you like a warm embrace. But something was different, something unexpected awaited you.

There on the polished surface of your entryway sat an elegantly wrapped box, its rich paper adorned with intricate patterns and tied with a luxurious ribbon. Your fingers traced the smooth edges of the packaging and you checked for any signs who sent it. Alas, no name was found.

Who could have left this for you? And why now, upon your return from the hospital?

You had a bad feeling about it.

As you carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the layers of paper, you stared wide-eyed at the contents hidden within.

Severed limbs, skin deathly pale and stiff.

Your stomach turned violently and you threw the box away from you, the gift spilling across the floor.

"Oh god, oh my god, what the fuck?!"

You were shaking. What was this? Was this a threat? A sick joke? Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, each beat pounding like thunder. You took a step back and stumbled, falling hard to the floor.

It didn't stop there.

Wounds inflicted on every part of your body, the scars on you began to open, rendering the healing done by doctors and nurses useless.

Wounds made by knives, claws, scissors, guns. Every imaginable instrument of torture. You cried out loud. Your voice pierced the quiet of the night, disturbing the tranquility of the neighborhood.

It was a perpetual and horrid nightmare. Just closing your eyes for even a millisecond, the image of his wide creepy smile flashed before you. You could hear his dark cackles, enjoying the sight of your vulnerable form as he tormented you in and out of your work.

“Run as far as you want, dear. In the end, I’ll always be ahead of you.”

The worst part was not knowing when he would strike next. He could appear anywhere at any time.

And it was all because of his sick game.

You didn't know what to do anymore. How long did you have to keep running from him? How many more days did you have to hide from the world? You were so tired of this, tired of having to live in fear of the monster that hunted you.

But God had finally heard your pleas and granted the wish you’ve been wanting for so long. So when the news came to you that the notorious radio host was dead, relief and happiness flooded every vein in your body.

You rejoiced, celebrating the death of the one who had terrorized you for a long time.

The nightmare was finally over.

The radio station was sullen by the news of their popular host, but you didn’t care. Your work became more efficient. You didn’t feel the need to be so wary and anxious by every move you made in the station. You have finally gained your freedom and the chain that was tied to him has shattered.

This was the best thing you could ever ask for.

Even on your deathbed, it was the best dream. Years without Alastor torturing and tormenting you was bliss. A man’s greatest wealth of freedom.

But then, the dream quickly turned into a nightmare, for it was never over. The demon who you thought was dead rose once again. It was only then you realized that he was never human in the first place. He was a monster.

And now, it was you who were caught in his web.

"My, what a wonderful reunion. Did you miss me, darling?”

The demon before you was mysterious.

Unfamiliar.

But his aura and voice screamed for you, the alarms in your body ringing, to run away from him as far as you possibly can.

The wide smile plastered on his face was all too familiar. Too familiar to be hated in the living and the dead. You’d be a fool if you didn’t recognize it.

You knew who he was. You just kept on denying what was the truth, brushing all the facts laid before you beneath the rag, and keeping your pretty little head away from the politics of Hell.

A demon who is powerful, dangerous, and cruel.

A demon who was feared by the other demons in Hell. A demon who is not to be messed with.

Alastor. The Radio Demon.

It was a miracle, or rather a curse, that you were brought back to life. But now you are a prisoner to this Hell. Trapped inside an inescapable cage with a dangerous beast, you could only hope that your second death would come quickly and peacefully.

But it seemed that fate was not on your side, and Alastor was the ever cruel demon. He did not scar you easily and instead prolonged your suffering, making your life a living torture.

Beads of sweat rolled from your temple. Your hands began to tremble and you felt yourself slowly succumbing to your fear. You had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

You were cornered, trapped.

Alastor had you where he wanted.

You watched him closely, eyes locked on him and every single movement. If he did something, you would see it.

"Are you frightened, dear?" he asked. His eyes met yours and he smiled. "There is no need to be afraid."

"Stay back! Don't touch me!" you shouted at him. The corners of his lips curled up, his smile turning sinister.

"Now, now, let's not act too hastily."

His gloved hand reached out and caressed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. His red eyes bore into your soul, burning with hunger.

You couldn't bear to look at him. You didn't want him touching you.

"Don't," you whimpered.

"Don't be afraid. You have no reason to be afraid."

Rivers of tears streamed down your cheeks as the fear overwhelmed you. You didn't want him touching you. This man... He was the same one who hurt you, who ruined you.

"Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"

The smile on his face grew wider.

"Do I need a reason? It’s obvious why we’re here," he replied, cocking his head to the side, eyes piercing through your eyes and consuming every little bit of your reactions in his head.

You gulped and stepped back, trying to create some distance between you and him.

"What are you going to do with me?"

He chuckled. "What a silly question! Would a little reacquaintance hurt?"

Reacquaintance? He was talking like this was a casual meeting. Like you were old friends reuniting. But this was the man who hurt you.

"What's the meaning of this?” You sobbed, shaking your head.

Alastor laughed loudly, his grin never faltering, and it makes you sick he finds everything amusing. An entertainment for his delight.

"You never fail to amuse me, dear. Aren’t you the one who killed me?” His antlers grew, his pupils changed to radio dials and his shadow stretched out of him, becoming more demonic in appearance.

You trembled. Your heart beat faster, your legs felt weak, and your mouth was dry.

"I... I…."

He stepped closer, and you stepped back.

Nothing came out of your lips. The words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. You didn't want to look him in the eyes but his gaze held your chin up high, forcing you to face him. He smiled, and his eyes turned back to normal.

The knees that kept you upright gave in, unable to stabilize you any longer as your body slumped onto the rough pavement.

"Oh, darling," he sighed, the radio static in his voice disappeared as he crouched down. 

Your gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding any chance encounter with Alastor's piercing stare. Instead, your eyes trailed to his cane, a silent witness to the tense atmosphere between you.

You dared not meet those fiery red optics that seemed to delve into the depths of your very being, dissecting every nuance of your expression. Fingers clenched tightly, you seek some form of solace in the texture of the barren earth beneath you, as though it could take you amidst the storm brewing within.

Alastor took your chin between his fingers and delighted your vulnerable form. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy and cheeks stained with tears.

"Fate has intertwined us together, dear. Run from me, I’ll always find you."

You didn't know what was more cruel—being brought to hell when you only wished for peace or being toyed around with him after death.

The nightmare you once thought had finally ceased returned to resume its cycle in the afterlife.

"I'll never get away from you..." You said, voice low and wavering. All hope was lost and so was your faith to continue living in this fiery pit of Hell.

"That's right. Good girl," He patted your head, taking a few strands of your hair and twirling it between his fingers. You fought the impulse to recoil, suppressing the urge to swat his hand away. 

The consequence of such defiance weighed heavily on your mind; after all, provoking one of hell's overlords was a gamble you weren't willing to take. So you held your ground, masking your inner turmoil beneath a facade of obedience, unsure of what consequences awaited should you dare to challenge the infernal authority before you.

In the dim light, his hand tenderly brushed away the tear tracing its path down your cheek. But as your eyes met his, a glint of something primal flickered in the darkness, casting an eerie glow upon his sharp, yellowed teeth.

Upon the moonlight, his crimson irises blazed like embers, drawing you into their hypnotic depths with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"But fear not, darling. I can promise you a good time. And now that I found you again, we can pick up from where we left off. It will be just like old times."

[hitoshitoshi]

Trouble in Paradise [Sylus x GenderNeutral!Reader]

Summary: What can possibly go wrong with a secret or two? Tags: Betrayal, Pet Names, Revenge, Angst, Trust Issues, Manipulation, Character Death, Murder, Love and Loss.

Sylus had always prided himself on his razor-sharp instincts, the edge that kept him perpetually ahead of the game. For years, he navigated a world where loyalty was a fragile, glass-thin construct, always teetering on the verge of shattering. Trust was a rare treasure, guarded by walls of cold, calculated indifference—except for a very select few.

In Sylus' carefully curated circle, beyond Kieran, Luke, and Mephisto, there was you. Sylus treated you differently. His eyes softened in your presence, offering leniency that others could only dream of. You had access to his world in ways others could not comprehend. He showered you with gifts, his black card was yours to wield, and though his men feared him, you—and only you—could brush off his authority as if it were mere dust on your shoulder.

Then one night, under a moon hanging low like an omen, Sylus discovered the duplicity. A confidential file—blueprints for an illegal Evol weapon with destabilizing potential intended for Onychinus's next major move—had vanished. And the only one with unrestricted access to the base was you.

Rage simmered beneath Sylus's stoic mask as reality cascaded over him like a cruel avalanche. His thoughts were a chaotic storm, yet meticulously piecing together every interaction, every smile, every touch now reeking of deceit.

How could I have been so blind?

The realization gnawed at Sylus’s core, each memory now tainted by your betrayal. Rarely did he harbor regrets, always driven by the relentless pace of his life. His philosophy was clear: never look back, never regret—after all, the past was immutable. Sylus lived by this principle, until tonight. His singular, irrevocable regret wasn’t meeting you; it was allowing himself to become weak. Weak to a puny, disgusting, and utterly immoral kitten—you.

-

When Sylus called you into the room that night, the dread was palpable. You entered the room, naive to the storm brewing in his mind. 

You asked Sylus, “Sylus, you wanted to see me?” 

Sylus didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he studied you, his eyes boring into yours, searching for a trace of the person he thought you were. Your eyes were filled with curiosity —  eyes that Sylus had now grown to loathe in such a short time. The silence was long and heavy, a prelude to the tempest. 

“I trusted you,” Sylus began, his voice was unsettlingly low and chilling. “More than I trusted myself.” What was worse was how calm Sylus seemed on the outside, “And you had made a fool out of me”. 

You flinched as you realized that this was about something more, “Sylus, please, this isn’t what you think. It was a mistake—” 

“A mistake?” Sylus cut you off as he laughed humorlessly, echoing off the walls, “No, sweetheart. A mistake is mixing up the twins. What you did was betrayal of the highest order.” 

Sylus stepped closer, and the air seemed to thicken with each word, each deliberate step. “You sold out Onychinus for what? Money? Power? Or were you just looking for your next thrill?” His voice was a quiet storm, each word was like a lightning bolt aiming to strike you down.

Your eyes brimmed with tears as desperation clawed at your throat, “I can explain, Sylus. I didn’t mean to—I thought—”

Sylus cut you off, his hand wrapped around your wrist with just enough pressure to convey his restraint. “Enough. You were different, or at least I wanted to believe you were. I showed you trust, affection—even let you touch me. And what do I get in return? Treachery, disguised as love."

Sulus’ eyes softened momentarily, his anger eclipsed by a deeper sorrow, a betrayal that cut through the very core of him. He released your wrist, a final mark to the end of everything. “You’ve misunderstood the gravity of what you’ve done. Ochychinus doesn’t tolerate betrayal, and neither do I.”

You stood there, frozen, your frantic pleas suffocated by the oppressive silence in the room. The man before you, who once treated you like a prized possession, now loomed like an unforgiving storm. His red eyes bore into you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, each breath you took drowned in a sea of dread.

"Sylus, please," you whispered, voice cracked and desperate, tears streaming down your face. "I never meant for any of this—"

Sylus scoffed, cutting you off with a venomous contempt. "Spare me the dramatics. Intentions are worthless now. What you did—there’s no coming back from it. You've shown me exactly what you are."

The room felt suffocating, the walls seeming to close in as Sylus's fury filled the space. His hand moved with a hypnotic slowness, the barrel of his gun pressing against your temple, the chill of metal burning into your skin.

"You think you can talk your way out of this?" Sylus hissed. "Think again. Betrayal isn't something I tolerate. No second chances. No redemption. Just consequences."

Sylus’ grip on your wrist lightened, but the pressure was a stark reminder of the power he wielded, the finality of his decision. Tears blurred your vision, but you could feel the raw, unyielding rage radiating off him. The man who once showed you kindness and leniency was gone. In his place stood the ruthless leader of Onychinus, a man ready to crush anyone who dared defy him.

"I let you in," Sylus continued, his voice a bitter whisper. "And you threw it all away. For what? It doesn’t matter. What's done is done." He leaned in closer, his poisoned breath brushing against your ear. "You don’t get to plead for mercy, not after what you’ve done. This is the end for you. Consider it a lesson you'll take to your grave."

Sylus's eyes never left yours as his finger tightened on the trigger, the click of the safety off echoing in the heavy silence.

"Goodbye, sweetheart," Sylus said, the nickname once filled with playful affection now a cruel mockery, a final and irreversible verdict.

The room filled with the deafening roar of a single gunshot. In that instant, the world seemed to pause, the sound reverberating through every corner, marking the end of trust, of what once was. The reality of Sylus’s wrath descended in one final, unforgiving act—the betrayal answered with an unstoppable force.

Sylus stood over your lifeless body, a cold, detached serenity settling over him. In his world, betrayal warranted only one response—an end. No second chances. No forgiveness. You were just lucky that he didn’t draw out your inevitable death.

A/N: Nothing much to say other than trouble in paradise fr

If you like otome games, including Love and Deepspace, you should join Linkon Lounge! A discord server that's LGBTQ+ friendly (only serving those who are 18+) where we all can share our interests, talk to roleplaying bots (Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, and Sylus), and have fun game, movie, and stream nights where we stream games and/or cards that we pulled that others want to see. It would be super fun to have you as a member of our server.

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Masterlist

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 12: LOOKING FOR THE NEW WORLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He was like a child despite being a man, one much bigger and stronger than you. Infinitely powerful, yet he could reduce himself into a creature of need so intensely that he’s convinced you that your touch is the only remedy.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, dubcon, oral sex, mentions of depression, angst, character death

ੈ✩ wc: 5k

ੈ✩ a/n: who else is sick of these two. i sure am

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

January, 2011

There’s a black cat that likes to hang out around your apartment. It’s small, a bit on the thinner side, with striking amber eyes. It reminds you of someone. 

It nuzzles against your legs now as you sit on the stoop, nursing your third cigarette of the night. Tobacco for dinner and some leftover hot and sour soup from the last time Shoko forced you to get takeout with her.

“You gotta stop with those,” she had muttered when you had finished eating, excusing yourself for a cigarette despite the snow. “You’re gonna fuck up your lungs at this rate.”

“How extremely hypocritical of you.”

“The nicotine makes you more anxious than before,” she laughed. “And I want you alive in this lifetime.”

You’d smiled weakly in response. Allowed yourself one cigarette before bed and another that was shared with her before she left for Tokyo again.

Your stomach rumbles again at the thought of real dinner. The cat sniffing you meows. 

“You’re hungry, too, huh?”

As if it understands you, it mewls. 

You ash your cigarette and scoop it up in your arms as you walk to the konbini for cat food and multiple cups of ramen. Despite the odd looks you get around the store, no one bothers you or reprimands you for having a little fur ball attached to your shoulder. 

The cat takes a liking to your apartment, immediately splaying itself on your carpet. You’d have to vacuum later if you were going to house it. Get a litter box, too. It was probably all against your lease, but it had been a long time since you had taken care of anyone other than yourself, and you were still lacking in that department ever since the previous autumn.

“Sorry about this,” you mutter as you pick up the cat, lifting it to the light. “Ah. A boy.”

The cat meows, as if agreeing. You decide to call him Jiji after the black cat in Kiki’s Delivery Service. A fitting resemblance. There’s an annoying, familiar voice in your head that tells you it’s a bit cliche.

The poor thing walks with a limp you don’t remember him having. There’s a deep cut on one of his back legs, probably left over from a stray dog that bit too hard. The flesh heals quickly with the slight of your hand.

He treats the place like a personal jungle, which is saying something considering how bare it is. You make yourself some subpar ramen, attempting to turn it into stir-fry with the puny vegetables in your fridge. It was something warm, at least. It goes nicely with the Asahi you bought. You’re allowing yourself maybe half of the six-pack tonight. Any more and you’d be inviting yourself to wade in a pool of pity.

You stare at the mini calendar on your fridge. The third of February is circled, taunting you. It wasn’t like you’d ever forget, but you marked it anyway as if to punish yourself. 

You jump when the doorbell rings. It can’t be Shoko. She’d left for Tokyo days before, and there was no reason for her to be back so soon. Utahime wasn’t the type to show up unannounced. 

For fuck’s sake, it couldn’t be. 

You didn’t even tell him where your new place was. The knocks on the door turn to a rhythmic pounding you recognize immediately and it makes you want to start digging your own hole. Begrudgingly, you open the door.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, the curl of a lip hinting at a teasing smile. There’s barely enough time for you to process a response back because of how quickly he walks in. 

“How did you know where I lived?”

Satoru grins, teeth and all. Annoyingly bright and shark-spiked, hair covered in light snow. 

“I have my ways, baby.”

“You need to leave.”

Jiji cowers curiously by the foot of the couch, blinking at the new stranger. Satoru looks at you quizzically.

“Replaced me already?”

“Yes.” 

He ignores you and plops down the paper bags he was carrying on the kitchen counter, like he’s done it a million times before. A bottle of rose, packaged daifuku. A carton of strawberries. For some reason, nearly everything in the grocery bag is pink.

“Got you your favorites.”

“Satoru, these are your favorites.”

“Ours, then,” he huffs childishly, pouting. “I was in town for a mission. Thought you would want to, uh, do something for his birthday.”

His last sentence is rushed like it’s an afterthought, but it’s the most damning one. You can’t help the rage in your veins when he says it. As if Suguru is dead or missing instead of flourishing on his own path. Rot turned to bloom.

While you glare at him, his expression is neutral, bordering on sheepish.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts, so.”

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you,” you say bluntly.

He sighs. “You can’t ignore me, forever, y’know.”

Something bitter crawls up the cavern of your chest at the same time something heats up. It wasn’t fair, the way he looked at you all pouty. It made you feel like you did when you were merely the maid’s daughter, wanting to appease him in any way you could. You feel slightly nauseous despite your stomach feeling terribly empty. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Have you talked to him?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs.

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a bit before you clear your throat. 

“Thanks for the groceries, but you can take them back to your hotel or whatever. You can’t stay here.”

“I’m not trying to crash at your apartment, anyway.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Satoru?”

“Seduce you, I suppose,” he mutters. “I’m sure the hotel mattress I have would be better for your back. You can—”

“No.”

“Fine. Have dessert with me. A glass of wine. I just want to be with you.”

You curse yourself. Satoru is always tempting just by being himself, but you did really like the brand of wine he brought. Right now, you need a drink more than anything else. 

Watching reality TV with Satoru is not how you expect to spend your night. The silence is uncomfortable, nearly suffocating. It’s not difficult to notice how much he wants to touch you, his fingers twitching on the fabric of your couch. 

“Where’d this fucker come from?” He nods his head towards Jiji, who has jumped onto your left shoulder. You can sense jealousy in his tone, funnily enough.

“Don’t call him that,” you scold, rolling your eyes. “He was a stray. Got bitten by something so I healed him up.”

“How lucky.”

“Uh huh.”

Satoru clears his throat and thumbs around the rim of his wine glass. Fidgety. He leans closer to you, petting Jiji as an excuse. 

“How’s the… independent study? Or whatever.”

“It’s good. I work at the greenhouse every other day.”

He nods slowly and pours you both another glass. It doesn’t take long for you both to finish the bottle. His cheeks are as pink as the daifuku, half-eaten and abandoned on a plate in front of him. You’ve graduated to playful quips despite your mostly guarded demeanor, feet hoisted on his lap as he rubs them absentmindedly. 

“You should probably get back to your hotel.”

“Huh?”

You look at him. Satoru’s gaze flickers in between mischief and reverence. He’s also clearly not paying attention to what you’re saying considering his eyes are fixed on your bare shoulder. 

“It’s late,” you sigh.

“Not that late,” he scoffs. “S’not even ten.”

“I have a lab early tomorrow,” you lie.

“...Alright. Wanna finish this for me, then?” He holds out the last half of the mochi and feeds it to you. He blushes slightly. You still open your mouth for him without having him to ask. 

“It’s good.”

He nods. Leans over to wipe a bit of red bean paste off the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His eyes lower onto your lips as he sighs, right before he kisses you.

You let him. 

He feels the same as he always does. It’s been almost two months since you’d touched him — the last time being inside a karaoke bar bathroom an hour after Shoko had convinced you to come out for Satoru’s birthday. 

You had done so, unwillingingly, still not over the wound of being left and still angry with Satoru. Even so, it was still easy for him to make your knees weak, leading you into a random stall in the men’s bathroom while Shoko and Utahime forced Nanami to sing an 80s ballad. 

It was your first time properly spending time with the underclassman, so it embarrassed you immensely to walk out with your lipstick smudged. You remember overhearing Nanami ask Utahime about you and Satoru, to which she simply laughed in pity.

They’re on and off?

Divorced right now, Shoko had quipped.

Gojo was married to her?!

Fuck no. He wishes.

“Sato—” you mumble into his mouth.

He shuts you up with his tongue against yours, his hand cupping your chin. You knew he would get you a little tipsy and probably make a move, and you knew full well that you would let him. He chased you easily even when he could have anyone he wanted. 

His movements are sloppy and languid. Drunk, perhaps — he was a lightweight through and through. He groans lightly at the taste of you, how sweet you are like always. His other hand moves to your nape, clutching the back of your head to rest on the couch cushion with him hovering over you. Already, he was slotting his knee in between your legs. 

Satoru could already feel his insides stir at the thought of being inside you again. It had been too fucking long. He was sure that his dick would probably melt once you let him in. 

When you feel his hand underneath your sweater, you break the kiss. He sees it as an interruption rather than an end as he chases you, face leaning in again. He was pretty when he was drunk on you, eyes half-lidded like that. It was infuriating. 

It takes you a slight push and a turning of the head for him to realize that you don’t want him. 

“Why are you—”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I– I don’t want to.”

His face falls. You can’t stand it, how he looks like a kicked puppy. You refuse to fall for it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?” he tries. “To the hotel?”

You’d slap him if you could. Your hands don’t move an inch. They only tremble.

“I said no. I’m sorry—” Why are you apologizing? “I have to get to bed.”

He blinks at you, dejected. For once, he doesn’t beg. Doesn’t give you a smartass reply. He stands and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Okay,” he sighs. He wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t. “Sweet dreams, Twigs.”

June, 2010

There’s a funeral before you leave for Kyoto. It’s the first time you deal with the corpse of a classmate.

You’d watched Shoko work in the morgue meticulously, wrapping the body in plastic. You knew she was probably used to the smell of death by now. At that moment, you were both numb to it.

“You don’t have to stay here, Nanami-kun,” you told your junior softly. He’d been sitting next to you in a plastic folding chair with a warm towel over his eyes for nearly half an hour, saying nothing.

“It’s fine. Not like they’d dare to assign me another mission right away.”

You glance at Nanami now, dressed in all black, and his face looks even more tired than it was under the morgue fluorescents. Sallow and pale, his complexion matching Suguru’s. 

You were all much too young to go to so many funerals.

The smell of death still lingers at the ceremony, too. It must be psychosomatic, the way the suffocating temple air makes your gut twist into itself. Yu Haibara’s smiling portrait stares back at you. 

You’d never experienced anything like this before. You knew the cost of being a jujutsu sorcerer, the horror of nearly losing Satoru the subject of your nightmares. It was different for it to be real, to pick up the bones of a boy whose light shone so brightly with chopsticks. 

Suguru looks older than he is. You noticed lately that the circles under his eyes have gotten worse, sometimes like a bruised purple in the shadows of his room. He didn’t leave it often, never opened his blinds despite it being summer. Morose as he is, he still looks beautiful.

You sit in between him and Satoru during the service. You shed no tears. No one does—the grief is all-consuming, wrangling everyone by the throat. You’re sure your fellow classmates are feeling numbness more than anything. 

You crawl into Suguru’s bed that night. He almost doesn’t acknowledge you, save for the movement of his arm over your middle when you nestle into his chest. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower he took. He hadn’t bothered to put his clothes back on.

“You okay?” you whisper. “We missed you at dinner.”

“Migraines,” he mumbles. He’s been getting a lot of them lately. That or nausea. Another thing that was psychosomatic—Suguru could barely eat lately because of the nausea. Even when he eats enough, it’s there, as if the curses he swallows are making a cesspool of his gut. 

He blames it all on heat fatigue, but you know better. Even with his model-like cheekbones, his face is starting to look a little thinner. 

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Yeah,” he lies. He might’ve taken some gas station gummy just so he could pass out and maybe not wake up for twelve hours before you came in. 

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair. It’s too wet for him to be resting on his pillow. You want to comb it for him, dry him with the towel like a beloved pet. He breathes shallowly as he revels in the feeling of your fingers across his scalp.

“Have you been drinking enough water?”

“Christ. Yes.”

Suguru immediately regrets his sharp tone the minute he sees your eyes flicker with meekness. He sighs, cradling you closer.

“Sorry. I’m just… fucking tired.”

“Yeah, me too.” There’s an awkward silence. 

“God,” you mumble, almost to yourself. “What happened was horrible.”

“Ha. That’s reality. Could be any of us tomorrow, or the next day.”

It’s an awful thing to say, but you know he’s right. He doesn’t say it to be spiteful or insensitive, but his words sting nonetheless. It’s the air of bitterness you can sense from the lilt of his tongue. You know it isn’t directed at you, but it still feels uncomfortable when you’re trying to be affectionate with him. 

He looks at the sadness in your eyes and makes an attempt to change the subject. “Do you wanna… watch a movie or something?”

“I should probably go to bed soon. I have an early mission tomorrow.”

“Seriously? After what just happened?”

“I don’t really have a say in what gets assigned to me,” you say sheepishly. 

“We all keep throwing ourselves back into work. The very work that gets our friends killed,” Suguru scoffs. “And for what? For a bunch of weaklings? Fuck.”

You pinch your brows together. “Suguru–”

“They’re the ones making the curses, anyway,” he mutters. “It’s fucking ironic that we have to protect the weak but we’re the ones who are never protected. Always martyred, instead.”

“The weak?”

“Non-sorcerers. Us sorcerers exist to protect the weak—it’s bullshit, sometimes.”

“You sound like Satoru.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at that. “So I’ve really gone off the deep end, huh?”

“No,” you sigh, caressing his jaw. “We’re all just grieving. I’ve been feeling a little crazy, too.”

He looks at you earnestly, licks his lips. “Kyoto will be nice.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I suppose it will be nice.”

“Don’t you get sick of it all?”

“Of being a sorcerer?”

Everything, he wants to scream.

“I don’t know. It’s the first thing I’ve done for myself. I mean, for others, too—that’s the whole thing—but it means more. Like I’m… worth something.”

“You’re worth a lot more than that. You always have been.”

There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he’s also telling himself the same thing. You’re not exactly sure what he means. You like being useful, you’ve learned to like having to perfect your technique. You know you will never be as strong as Satoru or Suguru. You don’t know that Suguru is metamorphosing into something beyond his control, ever since he saw a bullet go through a girl’s skull.

His words stick with you as you fall asleep in his bed.  

You’re worth more.

September, 2010

You feel like you’re about to vomit. Blood trickles down Satoru’s palm, the sharp pin of the button in his hand still in his unfurling fist. 

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Yaga-Sensei grimaces. “Suguru fled after killing everyone in the village.”

You can’t look anyone in the eye. You only stare at the blood on Satoru’s palm, thinking of his hands, of Suguru’s. Hands that were soft around your neck, rough on your waist and down the planes of your thighs. Hands that killed 112 people in a small village. 

When you couldn’t call him, you took the bullet train to Tokyo immediately. You thought he’d gone missing, ran away, anything but the reality of the situation. Suguru could be sharp-tongued, had rigid edges, but he was always kind. He believed in fairness above all—it was what you admired most about him. Even when he could be cruel, he could be kind.

You didn’t think he could be cruel enough to commit a mass murder in cold blood. You feel the hallway spinning, nausea crawling up your sternum and up to your head. Suguru had killed a village, and he’s left you and Satoru, and he didn’t even say goodbye.

You really need to lay down before you throw up. 

Yaga cancels your missions, so you have nothing to distract you. Nothing to do with your hands except curl your fingers around the cool bed sheet beneath you. For the next day, you stay like this — twisted inside yourself, knees tucked to your chest. Satoru is there, too, and for the first time in his life, he has nothing to say. This is a kind of grief that neither of you knows how to deal with.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “We should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you haven’t eaten since this morning,” you frown.

He shrugs. He was fine with laying in bed with you, suspended in the thick tension of unspoken words. Satoru was often explosive when he was angry, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about Suguru’s betrayal. Not unless he could find him on his own, but at this rate, Suguru could be out of the city already. 

He’s slightly watery-eyed. Something is dormant inside of him and you’re waiting for it to snap, show its teeth. You are ready to be the thing in between his canines.

He takes you eventually. Wakes you in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, prompted by nightmares of fire and bloodshed and Suguru’s glare. Satoru claws at you in his sleep until you’re holding his face and shaking him, telling him to breathe slowly. 

His breathing only gets faster. The hole that Suguru leaves inside of him needs to be filled. 

And then, your hair is in between his fists, your flesh in between his teeth. He has to take you apart so you’re like him, but you know that you had fallen apart the moment Suguru’s phone number failed when you tried to call him. 

“Satoru,” you whine. “Slow down.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, his voice rough as he gropes you in the dark. “Fuck, sorry. Need you. Missed you.”

With the way he manhandles you, you might think he’s sleepwalking. His eyes are wide open, midnight blue in the darkness. He whines when you turn away from him. 

“Please,” he chokes out. “Need it.”

You’d seen him like this before. Desperate, begging, frantic—usually because he was upset or angry. He would never tell you the details of what was in his head, only that he absolutely needed you, needed your body to satiate him. Your body was a temple for him to confess and repent in, yet it hollowed you out as if you were the one sinning.

“Shhh,” you coo, nervous. “It’s alright.”

He was like a child despite being a man, one much bigger and stronger than you. Infinitely powerful, yet he could reduce himself into a creature of need so intensely that he’s convinced you that your touch is the only remedy. 

You wrap your arms around him and he intertwines your legs together. You can feel his cock against your stomach. His face is buried in your neck, teeth nipping your collarbone. You always let him take all of you when he’s like this, never minding the feeling of being stretched thin, a taut sinew inside a predator’s mouth. You would be the balm to his chaos, always.

He lets out a heavy breath when he moves your panties to the side and his tip catches on your entrance. It’s a sound of relief, of quenched thirst. You gasp when he fits himself all the way inside you. Your body feels like a geyser ready to erupt.

He’s done this before after nightmares, after tough missions. Sometimes you would be asleep —you told him you didn’t care, and usually, you don’t. To be wanted by Satoru felt like a blessing even when it hurt like a curse.

You were sick on each other. 

His movements are hurried, kissing your neck sloppily as he ruts against you. He pushes inside and begins with quick thrusts. A full nest inside of you, your walls melting. He squeezes you tightly, his arms almost painfully clutching your waist as if he needed you tethered to him, skin sticking to skin. 

You aren’t wet enough for you to cum just yet. It was aching in you a little bit, the deepness of his cock inside you.

“S-Satoru,” you whine. “Hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up — fuck — make it up to you.”

He pulls out of you and throws you against the bed, holding your legs down and parted for his mouth. He eats you like a meal, his mouth sucking on your clit brutally enough for you to become overwhelmed. He sighs as he feels you gush around his fingers. 

“Close,” you gasp. “Fuck me.”

He turns you over and humps in between your legs, slipping in and holding you down. His weight on you is almost comforting. Your head feels like it’s underwater. 

“You can take it,” he hums. He kisses your nape, bites at your shoulder. If he wasn’t so delirious about it, needing you as much as he does, he would take his time. Write his name into your skin with love bruises.

His cock had to be stirring your insides together, your cunt like whipped butter. He groans when you clench around him. He knows how close you are, despite being half-asleep, half-feral. He’s had you memorized. 

It was too hot for him to be on you like this, his body too heavy. You come at the same time, both of your voices blending together into a choked whimper. Your hair sticks to your neck with sweat.

“Y’feel so good,” Satoru mutters. “All the time.”

He gets up to piss eventually, otherwise he probably would’ve fallen asleep inside you. You hadn’t noticed the small tears at the corner of your eyes. You come back to yourself, feeling a flurry of emotions come out of your pores—sweat and tears, Satoru’s warmth spilling out of you like dripping candle wax. 

He holds you again and strokes your hair in silent apology. You fall asleep. You don’t dream.

He’d fucked you into the next afternoon, apparently, because you don’t wake up until 1 pm. The sheets are warm with his presence, but there isn’t a warm body next to you.

When he comes back, his eyes are bloodshot. 

“Satoru?”

“He… he left,” he says. 

“What do you mean he left?” 

“Shoko found him and called me. He thinks he can create a world without non-sorcerers, he’s fucking—“

“Satoru!” you snap. 

He shuts up, looks at you with big eyes, wet and dark. 

“You— you saw him?”

“Yeah, just now—”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you demand.

He blinks at you, at a loss for words. He was half-asleep when Shoko called, scrambled to put on pants before he basically warped to the middle of Shinjuku. Seeing Suguru again was whiplash. 

“I didn’t want to—you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping, y’know,” he stammers, running a hand through his haphazard white locks. Lingering bedhead. “And I didn’t want Suguru to think we were, you know, ganging up on him—”

“I wouldn’t care about being woken up if I got to see him!” you scoff. 

“You’re upset.”

“Of course I’m upset he’s my… he’s my friend, too!”

I loved him, too.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”

You must be red in the face. Your face stings with a wash of irritation, your nose twitching as if you’re about to cry. 

“What did you say to him?”

“He’s turned his back on Jujutsu society. That’s all there is to it. He thinks it’s justice.”

“You didn’t try to stop him? You just let him go?”

“I couldn’t kill him. You know that,” he says, his expression hard. 

Your throat catches on a lump, a ball of malignant rage threatening to choke you. The red string that connects you and Suguru has frayed limp. Between you and Satoru, it only tightens around your neck. 

“I could’ve talked to him,” you start babbling. “I could’ve–”

“Don’t be stupid. You know how stubborn he is. You really think that you would’ve made a difference?”

You narrow your eyes, wiping them before tears start to fall. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I just… I just know him–”

“And I don’t?” you snap. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you’re implying.”

Satoru scoffs. “You don’t get it. He’s set on this idea of his. You wouldn’t have changed his mind, I promise you.”

You shut your eyes, feeling the dagger of his gaze twist itself into your chest. There was that feeling again—knowing that you would never be like either Satoru or Suguru. You knew that perhaps Satoru would have more power over him, and despite that, he still left. 

You weren’t there for the past two months, didn’t see the dead look in his eyes. You would never understand him. You think that maybe no one would. You hate how desperately you wanted to know him, how intensely you would claw your way for love in a way that mattered. Years of being with Satoru proved that—you still felt beneath him. Beneath both of them.

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t shut down. You always do that when you get upset,” Satoru grimaces.

You chew on the skin under your lip nervously. Your hands shake. You hate that Suguru has probably only shown a certain percentage of himself to you. There was no room for you to be entitled to the intricacies of his brain. 

The space between you and Satoru is a chasm. You don’t know what to do with your frustration. The only options in your head right now are to take it out on him or let it fester within yourself until you explode. Neither will do much in terms of closure. 

Satoru stares at you with jealousy stirring underneath his skin. It’s the earnestness in your hurt expression. It’s making the guilt inside him multiply like a virus.

“Are you in love with him?” Satoru asks, his voice hoarse.

You blink at him. “I don’t know,” you whisper.

“Do you love him more than you love me?”

“What? What does that have to do with–”

“Just answer.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mutter. 

Satoru winces, your words a sharp sting to his face. He hadn’t preferred either of you over the other, but he was protective of you in a way that he didn’t feel for Suguru. It ran deep enough to make him crazy—Suguru knew that. For some reason, it wasn’t anything that Satoru could admit out loud. 

He sighs heavily. “I love both of you. You know that.”

“Why are you asking this, Satoru?”

“Because… fuck. Because it doesn’t matter how much you and I loved him! It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s gone, okay?”

He’s too consumed with the thought of you beside him on that sidewalk, surrounded by a crowd. Tunnel vision set on a beautiful boy with sharp eyes, casually ready to leave the both of you in the dust. Part of him hates how much you love Suguru, how much Suguru seemed to love you back. He hates how much you’re fussing over his best friend when all he’s ever done since he met you was fuss over you. 

He hates how much he loves Suguru. So much so that out of his own selfishness, he wanted to face him alone when Shoko called. He didn’t want you beside him when he confronted Suguru, didn’t want to see the inevitable tears on your face once Suguru walked away. 

Satoru is convinced that you were made from him, and if he’s lost one soulmate, he refuses to lose another. 

And yet, you look at him coldly, like you’re going to leave, and his heart jumps out of his chest.

[solitary-traveler]

Stars Around My Scars

The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it.  “I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”

Kabukimono x Gn!Reader

Notes: Hiii, so um let me clear a couple things first. I'm not able to post the second part for ascent to oblivion since I'm busy and exams are coming up. I promise I'll upload it as soon as possible. Take this simple gift for now. And yes this is a repost. Anyway, I just merged them together. That was a shitty decision honestly. Seriously, me and my impatient ass yesterday-

Art: @OogyPng (X)

Warning: mentions of self harm, i swear there's fluff-

The beauty of mortal life comes with its finite period of existence, that fleeting period before dissipating in the blink of an eye. 

Much akin to that of a firework display.

They explode, bragging their scintillating colors that douse the sun in jealousy. With an ear-piercing blast, it blankets the night sky, fluorescing like the moon as it gleams like the stars above.

If life was momentary for a puny human, why not make use of it?

Why not become a wanderer and travel the world?

You get to region hop and satiate your wanderlust. To encounter unfamiliar faces and attach their names to your expanding friends’ list. To pick up tidbits about riveting stories recounted by elders and children alike. The possibilities are unending, a spectacle waiting to be unboxed.

Yet there’s always the impending menace of falling victim to the grappling claws of solitude.

You’ve been plunged into that headspace a few times already. Despite your protests, the glister of joy and love you’ve gotten from simple things flickered faintly, the bleakness settling in. Your surroundings felt barren, as the dismal winds swept away every inch of ecstasy from within you. Your godforsaken history comes back to taunt you, a reminder of your internal demons who’s having a field day tormenting you.

“You’re so fucking petty it’s almost hilarious. So undeserving. Why are you still here? You’re not worth anything. And you’ll never be.”

“An accident? That’s a bullshit excuse.Without you, the accident wouldn’t occur. It’s all your fault. Everything is.”

“Everyone hates you. Why can’t you get that right? Everyone you talk to finds a fault in you that they don’t dare say to your face. But they know. They can’t help but judge you. Of course they would wouldn’t they? You’re a weirdo”

“A disgrace.”

“A worthless piece of shit.”

The thoughts bounce within your mind, endlessly toying with your emotional state.

You emit a burst of bitter laughter.

It‘s cold.

The temperature was rather freezing despite the incandescence the sun was offering. You can barely feel it radiate through your skin, as a pang smashes through your heart.

You don’t want to be cold.

Your gaze shifts to your sword resting on the patch of grass beside you.

Another benefit of wandering. No one would suspect that your scars are self-inflicted.

As far as you’re concerned, It’s only natural for wanderers to acquire marks that resemble cuts and bruises on their bodies. Incessantly faced with the turmoil of threats and hazards, scars are assumed to serve as tokens of the risk they have confronted on their previous journeys. 

Besides, it’s not like you wanted to do it. It just felt right. Like the self imposed wounds on your wrists belonged there. It felt as if the blade slicing your hand like paper was supposed to do it. That watching the red liquid flow out of it was because you deserved it.

At least you’re not cold anymore. Who knew blood could be so warm?

—-------------------------

The distant display of lights crackle against the tranquil night.

You flash a mixture of colors, expressing the turmoil of what you refer to as your emotions. Yet the speck of your allure was gradually dwindling. 

It wouldn’t take long before you vanish.

Like a pretty firework.

But what use is a pretty firework when it waves and dances all alone with the stars, concealed far from anyone's vision? 

What use is a pretty firework when they're just meant to blink momentarily and dissolve?

You got your answer when you met an eccentric puppet during one of your travels. Sweet, little Kabukimono found your dying spark and rekindled it with his saccharine smiles and candied words. 

You grasped the concept of how fireworks are meant to shine for others to see, for at least one person to view and relish. For them to admire. And for them to love.

And Kabukimono loved you.

There’s no denying that. 

Your traveling companion cherished you, always doting you with his presence. He would never leave your side unaccounted for and often offers you praises that you find doubtful.

“You’re so cool Y/N! You’re so efficient in fighting! Can you teach me??”

“I didn’t mean to stare! You just… looked pretty from here…”

“I just wanted to spend time with you! …Is that so bad?”

Much to your skepticism, you find yourself hesitating to swallow his words. They felt like lies, sugar coated phrases meant to lure you into a trap of false hope. False sense of security. I mean, who would find you this interesting? Who would want to be by your side? Who would want to constantly seek you out because they enjoyed your presence? Because they enjoy being with you?

Lies. 

Every honeyed statement that rolls out of his tongue are nothing but lies.

He was going to leave you. Sooner or later.

But for whatever reason, the puppet stayed. He would not tire from his sickening performance of pretending to care for you. He should visit the theater sometimes, given how top tier his acting skills are. He claims with a two faced, innocent grin that the place beside you was his, and only his for as long as you were together. He says he wants to know about you—to study and learn what makes you… you—all the while those deceitful puppy eyes stare at you whenever you recount tales from your journey.

You’re stubborn self refuses to acknowledge the fact that he’s showing you genuine affection. Authentic fondness.

Maybe… it’s not an act? 

You were perplexed. You aren’t sure how to navigate through the solution of this problem, considering how you have no experiences regarding this matter. You aren’t aware of what to do, of what to say. It was frightening really, venturing into uncharted territories. 

So you do nothing.

And Kabukimono remains by your side.

The puppet was nosey when it came to you. One time, he caught a glimpse of your scars when you attempted to snatch a fish for dinner, only to result in you falling into the water. You sure had plenty of them. He sighs, wondering how much they must’ve hurt. Poor you.

In all honesty, he pities you. You carry an aura of despair, a chilling sensation that never seems to go away. It was attached to you in a way, like a melancholic burden that lays upon your shoulders. A suffering the puppet doesn’t want you going through. 

He would often ask about the origin of your scars. You were quite reluctant at first, but his persistence was soon rewarded by one of your wondrous tales. He cherishes your stories. It was always enchanting to hear about different regions that he can not visit. 

The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it. 

“I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”

In the young Kabuki’s mind, he notices that they don’t match the other marks on the surface of your skin. They were messy and painful to look at, like a blend of misery and torment was doused over that certain area. A mixture that can’t be dried, that can’t be removed.

He detested seeing you drowning in your sorrows.

An idea invaded his thoughts. He picks up a bright yellow marker from your bag and gently clutches your arm. He pops open the cap and uses your hand as a canvas, doodling little stars around your scars. This warrants an eyebrow raise from you, a look he just dismisses. 

“What are you doing?”

He flashes you a grin—one of the many precious expressions he loves to show off to you—as he huffs proudly, “I'm drawing stars!”

You were baffled. “...Why?”

“So that these little guys can protect you! That way, no more painful scars when I'm not around!”

When I'm not around.

A tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

You were feeling a bit cold today. 

But Kabukimono seemed to have warmed you up in his own way.

For a moment, your inner demons  and insecurities were thrown behind a wall, padlocked there while Kabuki held the key. The world stilled, no movement dared to interrupt the serene moment between two wanderers who found solace in the presence of each other. 

Your gaze never left the indigo haired puppet as he continues to work on the stars. He was focused on it like it was some masterpiece he was dying to show to the world.

…Seriously, he's such a silly guy.

[cinnanmonn]

Could I maybe ask for some delicious Sub alpha yandere x Omega reader? A big guy that is scary dog privilege personified, and a little guy(gender neutral) that's just latched on his titties and ass? Thanks

🦭 Anon

𝑆𝑈𝐶𝐾𝐸𝑅.

𝑌𝑎𝑛! 𝐴𝑙𝑝ℎ𝑎 𝑋 𝐺𝑁 𝑂𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑎! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Tw: I like tits and ass

Ngl I've read smth like this but the roles were reversed

Leon, a known being for his aggressive and rough nature. He took the role of being an alpha to his advantage, making sure he gets all his wants.

Many stared at him with fear, yet you stared at him like a creep. Weirdo. Freak. Stop it, I'm blushing.

Ever since you met, he always got a weird stare from you, specifically near his chest or ass. But why did it lowkey made him feel good?

Despite being some Omega, you had the iron balls to talk to him like a fellow subordinate, even touching his shoulders, hugging him and accidentally grazing his ass.

It sort of gave him comfort, even if he didn't show it. Overtime, you would sneakily give him lingering touches, he was aware of that.

He wanted you to touch him more. But no way, no way in absolute hell is he gonna tell you that. After all, he's an alpha!

No alpha wants to lose to some... Puny Omega. So he actually tried to keep his distance, even being more grumpy than ever, making those that surround him wonder if they're gonna make it out alive with how he looks at others.

But.... To no avail, you eventually broke those walls. (Can you break his other walls?) In the end, like some fucking Omega, he lays there, accepting as you squeeze and touch his tits to your hearts desire.

You always had an eye on those babies, You'd be ascended if you could sleep on them. He just doesn't let you do it, he's just shy.

No matter what you do, he tries to dominate, even if it completely backfires on him like a bitch.

He tried to penetrate you? Well somehow you're spanking and groping his ass, making him count it.

It made him extremely hard.

You just love him too much, the way he squirms at your touch, the way he reacts when you grope him in public. He's gonna go insane one day.

How could an omega do this? Is your pheromones acting up or something? Did you cast a spell on him? If so, he hopes it's permanent.

He officially can't even breath without being near you. He still acts all grumpy and rough with others, yet he acts like a marked Omega with you. It really surprised you. But surprisingly, you liked it.

The way he let's you do what you want, it's really fun to be spoiled. But surely, one day he's gonna mark you. So you can play him, forever. You can use him as you want, he doesn't even care that your inferior to him in status.

He really just wants your love and affection. If he marks you, will you love him forever and ever?

No matter what happens....

I tried but Im not filled with ideas rn so it's pretty short sorry (╯︵╰,)

[moonlightpetalz6]

Kinktober Day 2 (Vampire)

Character: Yuma Mukami x Reader

Reader: Fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, blood, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names, degradation, harsh language, Marking, possessive Yuma

Wc: 3,610

A/n: I am so sorry for getting this out so late! I had it all set up to post and then got distracted! Anyway, please enjoy the second post for Kinktober! I promise I will get the others out earlier during the day! Also, I do apologize if I miss any warning tags as I tried to make sure I wrote them all above!

______________________________________________________________

You let out a small sigh as you lay in the center of your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you found yourself deep in thought. 'How mad will he be? Should I try to cover it? No, he'll notice.' You feel your brows knit together as you frown, bringing a hand to your neck to carefully slide your fingers over the two bite marks, the skin slightly red and swollen from having been pierced through earlier that night. "What if I just run away until it's healed?" You shake your head at your words as you sit up slowly, walking towards your bathroom. Once inside, you look into the mirror, fingers carefully caressing the wound as you let out a slight hiss from the stinging pain. You grip the sink as you put your head down in defeat. "Yuma isn't going to be happy when he gets back!" You whined, already imagining your boyfriend's reaction. 

You were a sacrificial bride like Yui; only you had been assigned to the Mukami household. Of course, none of the guys took an interest in you as they were more focused on Yui, but you didn't mind, as it just meant you wouldn't constantly have to deal with them trying to feast off your blood. However, this changed when, one night, you stumbled upon Yuma, looking especially tired due to hunger. At first, the thought of leaving him to suffer did cross your mind. Still, seeing the usually gruff and mean vampire looking so tired and almost pathetic, you couldn't help but give him pity as you went and offered your blood to him, stating that it was the only thing you were even alive for and that he should be grateful. Since then, Yuma and you had grown really close, eventually developing a relationship when Yuma declared that no other man was allowed to drink your blood. 

Your ears perk up when you hear voices enter the house, causing you to panic as you quickly try to lock your door and hide under your sheets, praying that Yuma would be too tired to visit you. Wishful thinking, right? After a few minutes of being home, you heard a loud knock on your door, causing a small curse to leave your lips as your grip on the sheets tightened, knuckles slowly turning white as you feared for your life. After a few more knocks from the door, followed by silence on your end, the doorknob started to shake, indicating that the person on the other side was getting annoyed. "Oi! Y/n, why the hell is the door locked?" You heard your boyfriend's voice call out, annoyed from the other side. You slowly pull your head out from the sheets as you shakily answer the man, knowing there is no use in pretending not to be home. 

"I-I'm not feeling too good! So don't come in!" You called, mentally cursing the stutter in your voice from nerves. The doorknob stopped moving as he took a moment to process your words. "Huh? You looked fine earlier when I saw you." He muttered in a voice, sounding like he wasn't buying your excuse. "W-well, I'm not anymore, so go away!" You yelled before hiding under the blankets again, your eyes squeezed shut, your nerves going wild at the potential rage of the man on the other side. You hear a small grunt followed by silence, allowing your body to relax, your grip on the sheets loosening as you allow your heartbeat to fill your ears. This moment doesn't last long as a giant hand comes and snatches the sheets off your puny form, causing you to let out a surprised shriek, quickly jumping up in the bed to look at the culprit. 

There stood your highly intimidating boyfriend towering over the side of your bed with a cocky smirk as he held the sheets in his hands, looking down at you with those mischievous eyes you loved so much. "Feeling sick huh? You look fine to me, livestock." He mocked, eyeing you up and down to make sure he was right and not being a dick. You just sat there staring at him in awe before a pout formed on your face when you processed the old annoying nickname, he used to call you. "Yuma, what did I say about calling me that?! It makes it sound like I'm nothing but a toy to you." You huff, looking away from him as you cross your arms. He says nothing as he clicks his tongue in annoyance and tosses the sheets to the side. Neither of you says anything as you continue to avoid eye contact with him before you feel the mattress sink, indicating that he is moving onto your bed. "Come on, babe I didn't get to see your sexy face at all today." He purred while grabbing your chin, ensuring your gaze landed on him as he smirked, licking his lips.

You watched as he leaned down to place a kiss on your lips but quickly remembered the bite mark on your neck as you lightly pushed him away. "Yuma…not tonight." You muttered, avoiding eye contact again, causing the vampire to frown as his eyes narrowed with your sudden actions. "What the hell is up with you today? First the lying, and now you're avoiding me entirely?" He growled, teeth showing as he clenched his jaw, feeling himself growing angrier at the fact you weren't looking at him. 

You cringe at his tone, your hair standing up as the room fills with a dark atmosphere, causing you to recoil. "N-nothing is wrong…I just-!" Your eyes went wide as Yuma went to move your hair back, something he tended to do when he was giving you his full attention, which you loved; however, this time, all you felt was fear as your body froze. 'He sees it.' You think to yourself, not even having to look in Yuma's direction as a deep growl leaves his throat as he grips your shoulder roughly, pulling your body towards his. You whimper at his rough grip while he goes and forces your chin up, your fearful eyes locking with his enraged ones. "This isn't mine." He growls, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger. 

You don't say anything as he glares down at you, veins starting to pop from his temples and neck. "Whose is it, Y/n?" He hisses while leaning closer to your face, lips only inches apart. You try to look away from him, tears forming as you never liked when Yuma got angry. Of course, he never hit you or anything, but when it came to what was his, you knew his possessive side was nothing to joke about. Yuma watches as you try to avoid him yet again, feeling his blood boil as he pins you down onto the bed, arms above your head, holding them together, one hand watching as you look up at him with fear. He grits his teeth, not liking that look in your eyes as the only emotion he ever wanted to see from those orbs that made his chest flutter was pure love. Yuma knew that he never stood a chance when it came to his other brothers, along with the Sakamaki, when it came to winning Eve, but none of that mattered to him when you entered his life that night you offered your blood to him. "Y/n, I'm not patient, so I'll ask you again." His grip on your wrists tightened as you started to squirm from discomfort. "Who marked what's mine?" His eyes bore into yours, causing a shiver to run through your body. It was like he was staring deep into your soul, driving your heart to race as you started to feel embarrassed from getting excited due to your situation. 

"K-Kou was feeling thirsty, so he-!' You stop speaking when Yuma slams his fist against your bed frame, causing it to crack. "H-Hey! Just because you're angry doesn't mean you can break my stuff!" You yelled up at him, your voice finally returning to normal as you tried to escape his grip. "Tch. Fuck!" Yuma cursed before roughly sinking his fangs into the other side of your neck, causing you to let out a loud whine as you arched your back, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. "O-Ouch, Yuma, that's too hard!" You cried, but he ignored you as he continued to drink your blood, letting out a deep hum as he tasted your flavor on his tongue, his throat growing hot as the warm liquid entered his system. 

Yuma releases your wrists, letting out a deep chuckle as he feels you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, your small, delicate hands caressing the back of his head for comfort, knowing that he tended to calm down whenever you played with his hair. He pulled away from your neck, making sure to lick up any blood that seeped from his marks before sucking on the spot earning a small moan from you as your grip around him tightened. "Y-Yuma, I said not tonight." You whined, trying to wiggle away from him. Yuma grunts as he grabs your hips with his giant hand, giving them a possessive squeeze before pulling away from you. The two of you look into each other's eyes, neither of you saying a word as you catch a glimpse of your blood trickling down his chin. "I'm going to beat his ass." Yuma finally growls while his thumbs carefully rub circles on your hips, his eyes still holding rage, but this time accompanied by love and lust. "You're mine, and they know it." Once again, he sinks his fangs into your flesh, right over the area Kou had bitten before leaving the mansion. 

Yuma hums as his hands start to slide up and down your sides, giving occasional squeezes as he feels your body and blood start heating up, causing the tight feeling in his pants as he pulls away before making more bite marks along your collarbone. "You taste like fucking candy, baby~" He coos between bites listening as you let out small whimpers, your breathing becoming heavy as the pain from his bites soon turns to pleasure while you continue to play with his hair. Yuma loved the taste of your blood; the smell alone drove him crazy. He growls as he pulls away from you, his eyes taking in all the marks showing that you belonged to him and no one else. With a smirk, Yuma positions himself on top of you, his arms on either side of your head as he goes and grinds against you, watching as your already pink cheeks start to turn a deep red as you feel the bulge press against your clothed pussy. 

"Sorry, sugar…" He chuckles while grinding against you again, watching your facial expressions with his lustful eyes as he feels his chest swell with excitement as he watches you squirm and whimper underneath him. His eyes trail back to the bites he left, causing the tent in his pants to twitch as he leans close to your ear, a sadistic smirk on his face. "But seeing you with bites like this makes me so hard~" He growls before nipping at your lobe, causing a slight whine to leave your lips. "Yuma….stop teasing me." You pant out, feeling yourself getting more turned on as the friction becomes too much. Yuma scoffs as his movements halt, causing you to whine at the sudden loss. "Tch, who are you telling me to stop?" He growls while pulling away. You just lay there staring at him with confusion written all over your face as your mind tries to process everything happening due to blood loss. 

Yuma looks down at you, annoyed, as each leg lies on either side of your body. You don't say anything as you watch him trail his fingers across every single mark he made before stopping on the one where Kou's previously lay. "You think after letting my brother sink his fucking fangs into you, I'll do as you please? Fucking slut." He spat while his hands slid down your chest, his rough and giant palms aggressively massaging the mounds of flesh. "Mmh…I didn't let him, Yuma, I promise!" You moan out your mind and body, frustrated with his actions and words. Yuma growls, ripping your top off as he watches your breasts fall with a slight bounce. Your eyes widen as you quickly try to cover up with your arms. Yuma frowns at this as he grabs your arms, roughly pinning them to your sides. "Don't you ever cover this sexy body while with me." His tone is one of warning as he waits for your response. Feeling powerless, you give a weak nod, your body growing hot and embarrassed as he stares at you. 

“Y-Yuma I’m sorry Kou bit me...I'm sorry for being a bad girl." You started to cry, wanting him to smother you in love and praise like he usually did. Yuma takes in your pitiful form and lets out a deep sigh as he goes and licks your tears away, letting out a dissatisfied grunt. "So salty." He mumbled before peppering your face with kisses as he stroked your hair. "Shhh, Sugar…fuck I'm sorry," he murmured, now angry with himself. "Look at me, Y/n," he demands while cupping your cheek. You do as told, giving him a slight pout as he goes and roughly presses his lips to yours, his fangs sinking into the sensitive flesh, causing you to whine while you wrap your arms around him. Yuma hums, satisfied with your response, as he goes and starts to pull your shorts down with his free hand, causing a small gasp to leave your lips as he slowly rubs circles against the wet spot on your panties. 

Yuma pulled away from the kiss, saliva connecting your lips as he went and licked the blood smeared against your lips. "You're mine, Y/n….only I can touch you and drink your blood," he growls while licking down your neck. "Yes, baby, I know…I tried hard to stop him, I promise." You cupped his cheeks, causing a soft sigh to leave his lips as he stared down at you with loving eyes. "If I ever catch those scumbags tasting you, I'll devour you, Y/n." He admits, kissing your wrist gently, sinking his fangs into the tender skin, watching your eyes fill with lust. You give him a loving smile as you tilt your head to the side, eyes half-lidded as a small giggle leaves your lips, causing his heart to race. "I understand." You whispered. Yuma looked at you, trying to find any lies within your words. You knew he had eaten his victim's entire body before, so you knew his words were no threat. After finding none, he smirks while pulling your panties down, his fingers quickly slipping inside your drenched pussy, causing your mouth to form an O as you arched your back small moans leaving your swollen lips. 

"Y/n… you're too sweet for me." He whispers as he slides two fingers in and out of your tight walls. "So, fucking wet for me too, baby~ fuck, I can't wait." He laughed as he watched his fingers become coated in your slick. "I haven't seen you all day…fuck baby." He growled before latching onto one of your perked breasts, causing you to arch your back as your hands wrapped around his head, fingers gripping his soft brown locks. He chuckles, reaching his free hand back as he pulls out his hair tie, allowing you to watch his hair fall beautifully, framing his face and causing you to bite your lip. Yuma carefully grinds the perked bud, ensuring his fangs don't pierce the skin. His fingers start to go faster when he feels you clench around them, causing a grunt to leave his lips, knowing you loved when his hair was down. With a small pop, Yuma released your breast, glancing up at you, who held nothing but lust on your face as your lips parted in the cutest way with each moan that escaped your beautiful throat. 

"Y-Yuma, I'm gonna…" You trail off fists, gripping the sheets as you feel the familiar knot forming, your breathing becoming uneven as your grip on his hair tightens. "Fuck right there, Yuma, please!" You cry, feeling his fingers curl against that one spot. Right as you're about to reach your limit, Yuma's fingers slip out, allowing his ears to fill with the most pathetic noise he's ever heard leave your mouth. He smirks, sitting up straight as he goes, and removes his shirt while unbuckling his pants. "Not yet baby… I'm still pretty angry about my brother leaving his mark on you, you know?" He chuckles, watching your eyes trail down to his now-free erection that smacks against his abdomen. "How can I make it clear to them all that you're truly mine?" He mumbles, pretending to be in thought as he teasingly slides the tip of his dick against your wet folds watching as the precum smears on your glistening pussy, causing his dick to twitch. You whine, wiggling your hips to try and get more friction from your cruel vampire boyfriend. 

"Oh…I know how I can show them~" The corners of his lips rise into a sadistic grin as he positions himself at your needy entrance while placing his face inches from yours, ensuring your eyes are locked. "I'm going to fucking ruin you~" He growls before slipping his dick inside with a rough thrust. You throw your head back as Yuma continues to thrust deep inside you, his hands gripping your hips as he looks down at you, the sadistic grin still plastered across his face as he licks his lips. "That's right, sugar; you're my tasty human slut, right?" He purrs as he goes and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. You watch as Yuma licks up your thigh before sinking his fangs into the tender flesh, his eyes locked with yours. You bite your lip, letting out a deep moan as your eyes roll to the back of your head from all the rough pleasure your body receives. 

Yuma continues to thrust as deep as he can, refusing to leave your addicting pussy for even a second as he watches his dick get covered in your juices. "You're such a filthy girl, Y/n. so fucking filthy just for me!" He growls, the tip of his dick hitting your cervix, causing tears in your eyes from the sudden pain mixed with pleasure. "F-Fuck Yuma too deep!" You cry, trying to push him back but failing as he grips your hand. "That's right, baby. I'm so fucking deep inside you right now. I'm going to ruin this filthy pussy of yours. Going to make it shaped just right for me and only me." Your pussy clenches at his words, the knot from earlier coming back as you arch your back off the bed. "Fuck! Fuckfuck! Yuma, I'm going to cum!" You cry, tears of pleasure falling from your face. Yuma clicks his tongue as he slows down his pace, causing a whine to leave your lips. "Why'd you do that?" You pout, looking up at him with glassy eyes drooling, staining your chin, lips all bruised from his kisses. Yuma smirks as he leans down, giving you a quick kiss as he goes and starts kissing and sucking each mark he left along your neck and collarbone, making sure to provide each of them equal attention. 

"Because Sugar," He starts his free hand sliding up and down your leg, still placed over his shoulder, before giving your thigh a possessive squeeze. "You can't come without my permission, and after I've had plenty to drink." He chuckles before sinking his fangs back into your neck, his thrusts becoming aggressive again as you throw your head back, allowing him better access as his fangs sink deeper into the sensitive spot of your neck, knowing it was one of your favorite places for him to emerge his fangs. Yuma felt himself going feral as the temperature of your blood increased, mixing with the salty flavor of your sweaty skin. He lets out a deep moan, his thrusts starting to become sloppy. "Cum baby…cum with me." He pants, kissing along your jawline. "Show me you're mine." After hearing your boyfriend's possessive words followed by a deep growl, you felt the knot burst, your vision going white as a loud moan echoes throughout your room. 

Yuma smirks as he fills your pussy with his cum making sure none slips out as he looks down at you with the most possessive look you've ever seen him have on that gorgeous face of his. "That's right, baby! Fuck so tasty~ give me more, baby; come on, give it to me!" He laughs, still moving his hips through your orgasm as you let out small, babbled whines, unable to form an actual sentence from how fucked out and dizzy you were due to the blood loss. Yuma looks at you and pouts gently, tapping his finger to your nose before playfully scratching at it, chuckling as he watches you give a tired smile. 'So, fucking cute and sweet.' He thinks the love for you flows through his entire being as he feels himself getting hard inside you. "Hey, baby." He whispers in your ear, giving you a few kisses, to which you hum in response, lazily playing with his hair. 

"Come on; Sugar let's play more~"

[aikaterini-drag]

Princess and the King

Pairing: Russian Alpha Bucky x OmegaFem!Reader

Summary: Urged by a bout of jealousy, your Alpha fucks you from behind, his metal arm cradling your waist, his other hand gripping your hair.

Warnings: ‼️ MINORS DON’T INTERACT, omegaverse vibes, Russian endearments, p in v sex, hardcore, knotting, licking, nipping, unprotected sex, cockwarming.

“Like that ‘mega?” Your Alpha panted, his balls slapping against your ass with each primal thrust. His metal arm cradled your belly, feeling where he was fucking you so deeply while his other hand gripped your nape, fingers forking in your hair.

“Alph—mhpp…” your words faded, devoured by his greedy mouth. His tongue delved inside, brushing wetly with your own. “Pl…please—ungh—hhn…"

Trembling palms gripped the hard surface of the table which was shaking precariously. Gasping and gasping, your mouth felt dry and kiss-swollen as he pumped from behind, his thighs splaying your legs wide. Your eyesight was blurry, desire making you hazy. The only thing you could focus on was the feel of him, thick and swollen, buried so deep within you that with each thrust you felt his cockhead kiss your womb.

This sex marathon had started because another Alpha had kept his eyes on you for more than normal. Said 'normal' was 3 seconds. You were shopping at the supermarket, and to add insult to injury, Bucky was standing there beside you when the Beta looked at you. That was all the more reason for Bucky to get bonkers with the puny male who had dared lay his eyes on his omega. Your Alpha was usually good at maintaining his composure but with your heat coming in a few days, he was a little more on edge than usual.

He scared off the Beta male and did not kick his ass because you distracted your Alpha with your touches, finding yourself in this delicious predicament. Shopping forgotten, he all but carried you to your apartment, devouring your lips along the way until he had you all to himself.

Worth, it. So worth it. You loved your Russian Alpha hunk, even more so when he was filled with possessiveness.

“How about you give me a third one, ‘mega?” He hent down, his chest tickling your back, his lips suckling your earlobe.

Right… he’d make you cum two times already, once while licking and fucking you with his fingers, the second on the floor with you riding him, and now, over the table, his fat cock —which seemed to never go down— spearing you again and again.

You were dripping slick, your eyes rolling to the back of your head with each glorious shift of his hips. He knew exactly how to move, how to touch and caress. Your bodies fit perfectly and mated all the more wildly.

“Close, 'mega?” He dragged his teeth over your neck, causing your walls to contract and grip his cock tighter.

Nodding, your eyes shut tightly, a moan leaving your lips.

His voice rumbled through your bedroom, rich with authority. “Look at me, моя принцесса.”

You raised your gaze to meet his, the mating bond thrumming between you, loving yet feral.

"Uhhhn, am close, so close Alpha..." you whined in desperation, unable to formulate words with his insistent fucking and the marks he left against your skin. He was everywhere, lips and teeth nipping, kissing, his hands now cupping your cheeks and splaying them open to gaze at where you were joined.

“Words.” He slapped your asscheeks. “Use them.”

“Need to… pl.. please.. a‐anghh-please, f-f-faster... need to cum!”

His cock twitched from how sweet and needy you sounded, your juices drenching his cock and balls.

With a growl, he urged you backward, tipping your head so it was resting on the curve of his shoulder. You collapsed into him while he fucked you in earnest, his warm hand playing with your sensitive breaths. His metal thumb vibrated against your clit, gathering your slick and then spreading it around your nipples.

Vision blackening, you clenched so hard around him and rode the waves of rapture that seemed to wreck you. The wet sounds of your pussy got vulgar, his husky moans joining in your own. He surged inside you with deep, frantic strokes, while mumbling praises and biting the expanse of your creamy throat and all over the mating bite that marked you as his.

“Mine." Slam. "Mine.” Slam. "Mine."

“Yours. Always.” You dug your nails into his sides and hung on as he fucked and fucked and fucked. Gods, you couldn’t take the wait any longer. You needed him to come, to knot you into oblivion.

When he finally did come, it was an explosion, his cock pulsing and erupting inside you. He fed you ropes and ropes of his Alpha seed-- it was so much it tricked down your thighs even with his knot swelling to full mast and locking you together.

Kisses were peppered on your lips while he purred and whispered words of affection and praise. My pretty princess, always taking me so well, letting me knot your pretty pink pussy and fill your greedy womb. Oh and how right he was. His cock, still throbbing and hard, caressed over all your sensitive spots.

“Feel good, ‘mega?” he asked after the cloud of desire had thinned, his hand cradling your face.

"I'm alright, Alpha."

His heart thundered against your back, just as fast as your own.

Gently he cradled the undersides of your knees and helped you back against him. Trapped on his knot, you could only whine as he lifted you against him and got seated in the nearest chair. His knot tugged at your folds but held your pussy securely. You sat down fully, your tender ass against his pelvis, your legs draped over his thick thighs. Utterly relaxed against him, you particularly enjoyed the way he cupped your breasts and pinched your nipples.

"I'm sorry. " He kissed your lips, his metal hand cool against your breast.

You whimpered and turned your head to meet his ocean eyes. “Hmm, jealousy suits you, Alpha.”

“It's not my fault for wanting to ensure that every bloody male knows his boundaries and keeps their eyes off of you.”

“So possessive. I love that about you,” you murmured, your voice a soft caress.

“Can you blame me, little ‘mega? When every fiber of my being longs to keep you as mine?”

Your lips curled into a playful smile. “I’ll always be yours, Alpha. My heart belongs to you, and you alone.”

“Моя принцесса,” he drawled, his voice a low rumble that made your pussy tighten around his pulsing knot. “Heart of my heart, light of my soul.”

With a loving smile, you reached out to brush your fingers against his unshaven cheek. “Мой король,” you whispered in broken Russian. “My King.”

[freyarabbit]

°•"𝐷𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍"❥

♡[Small titty reader, nsfw✞, no verbal consent but mutual desire, somnophilia, mentions of bullying, insecurity]♡

Megumi opened his eyes, waking up in the middle of the night again. This had become a common occurrence for a long time now, so he supposed he could say he was used to it.

His senses sharpened as he realized that you weren't next to him, having drifted away from him in your sleep, sleeping sideways, your back turned towards him. That must've been why he'd woken up, because you weren't near him, he thought to himself.

This was so annoying but so damn cute at the same time, how your little body moved on its own like this.

He reached out for you, gently gripping your arms as he pulled you back towards him. As expected, you didn't wake up. You must've been exhausted.

His eyes lowered, noticing your loose nightgown having slid up to your waist, giving him a view of your sweet panties. The failure of a nightgown didn't cover up more than half of your chest either. Your cute little tits.

Something came over him, his body heating up. He hands grazed over the flesh of your thighs, before making their way up your dress. His fingertips brushed over your hard nipples, as he began massaging them, earning quiet sighs from you.

He couldn't wait till you woke up, and looked at him with that one expression of yours. When you're embarrassed but turned on at the same time.

Not long after, your lashes fluttered open, startled at the sight of finding your boyfriend basically caging you as he gave wet kisses to your pathetic little breasts.

"M-megumi- what are you...."

There it was, the face he was waiting for you to make.

"Sorry baby, I got a little impatient, hope you don't mind."

He spoke so casually, looking down at you with his rare smile, as you took the chance to wrap your arms around your chest. Avoiding eye contact with him. You felt so embarrassed that he'd been staring and touching them for so long, maybe he thought they were ugly, maybe it made you less attractive, maybe it made you look like less of a woman.

All your maybes were interrupted by his voice, as he asked

"Why are you doing that?"

"...doing what...?"

"Why are you covering them up from me?"

"I just....don't like them..."

He paused, giving you a slightly confused and a little irritated look, before replying

"But I sure do."

You went quiet, heat rushing to your cheeks, having a hard time comprehending what he just said.

"So, let me show you how much I like them, okay?"

He swiftly pulled down your panties, discarding them somewhere in the dark room so that they could only be found by you in the morning. Aligning his pulsating dick with your pussy's puny little hole, pushing in mercilessly into your wet heat, he put his attention back to your cute little chest.

He sucked on them, kissed them, bit them, even slid his tongue across them and what not, while all you did was let out pretty little cries, and whimpers, clearly overstimulated as both your pussy and your tits received his undying attention.

You'd always been teased for the size of your chest by other girls, who you believed to be more beautiful just because they had more fat in their chest and by boys, who made fun of you, saying that having a pretty face wasn't enough. But right now, your boyfriend seems to be obsessed with their size, so...was this a dream? No, not with the pleasure you felt right now.

He felt so good right now.

Fucking you felt like fucking a tight little doll, his doll.

And your small boobs only contributed more to this thought of his.

The way you'd begun mewling in that way you always do, he knew you were at your climax. Which was perfect timing because so was he.

Pulling out quickly as he came, he spilled his cum all over your tits.

The view of your fucked out face with your adorable little titties drenched in his cum, stained with his red bite marks and purple hickeys, was a permanent image in his mind from now on, which he was sure he'd get off to the thought of whenever he was away from you.

As you managed to catch your breath again, you spoke up

"Megumi...you really like them...?"

"You're so fucking cute."

He took his shirt off, using it to wipe his cum and spit off of your breasts, discarding it to the side once he was done, before sliding your night gown back down, and pulling you into a tight hug, so that you don't move away from him during the rest of the night.

"Goodnight, I love you"

"Love you too, M'gumi"

He fell asleep instantly.

You smiled, leaning into his embrace before beginning to drift away as well.

Being small felt so good for once...

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Baki Headcanons (II)

Featuring Jack Hanma, Kaoru Hanayama, Katsumi Orochi and Chiharu Shiba since the latest Baki season is out. TW: Violence, dubious consent

[Baki Masterlist] [Part I]

Jack Hanma

Once Jack finds a purpose or a goal to achieve, he will hunt it down in deplorable mania with no regard to any impediment along the way. He’s deemed you to be his newfound motivation and minor details such as your opinion of it are but a slight detour. He’s already had one dream robbed from him - that of being the strongest. He’s not as generous as to accept yet another loss. Really, (Y/N), why so afraid? He promises you won’t regret it.

Outside of his obsessive tendencies, Jack is rather kind and understanding. He pays great attention to detail when it comes to you and is willing to go to great lengths for your sake. Being a servant on the knee is a small price to pay if he gets to see your satisfied expression. What a strange effect you have on him. To think that his pride immediately crumbles at your feet…No, it’s the other way around. It’s because of you that he can keep his head up, no matter what.

Jealousy or possessiveness are not things that plague Jack. His mere presence is enough to signal loud and clear that you’re not to be approached. Like a wild animal guarding his territory, he finds intruders a warm-up sport to entertain himself with and nothing more. But what if, say, it was you trying to get out instead? Now that would be just plain nonsense. No one else can guarantee your safety to such degree. You must be confused, and in situations like these Jack has no choice but to bring you back to your senses. Regardless of what it takes.

I have to say, if you choose Jack as your boyfriend you should definitely brace yourself. He has vowed to shield you from all threats, but his love for you doesn’t count as one. The fact that you’re laying there bruised all over further shows how intoxicating you are to him. His brain turns into mush and the only thing he can focus on is that you belong entirely to him. He could crush you, break you, kiss you until your lips bleed, hold you until your ribs crack. He holds the power over you and you have willingly offered this vulnerability to him. He doesn’t expect you to hold back, either. He is yours to mark as you please.

He will return to his senses and apologize for the vicious, feral attack during intimacy. He is a man of instinct and logic rarely prevails when dealing with temptations. And you, darling (Y/N), happen to be the strongest drug he’s ever dealt with.

Kaoru Hanayama

Hanayama is initially very conflicted about his feelings. Has he not sworn to dedicate himself entirely to the Family? What kind of puny leader loses focus in the middle of an important agreement between clans to think of a normal civilian? What kind of respected kumichou asks his subordinates to take a detour in their debt collection to check on some regular human? Here he is, sitting between the women working for his business, reluctant to touch them in fear of being disloyal. To whom? You don’t even know him and he’s already built an entire code of honor to follow. Shameful.

It doesn’t take him too long to rationalize his inexplicable attachment. Just like his father had found his mother, he too was bound to stumble upon someone for him, a partner fit to bear the weight of the family honor. He isn’t betraying his Group, he’s providing it with an equally capable leading hand. Oh, he just knows you’ll do great. You were made for this. You were made for him.

Confessing to you is a difficult task. Hanayama usually conveys his feelings with his fists, and he’d rather not pummel you down as the sweet “will you date me” invitation. So you’ll often find him staring intently at you, a frightening aura surrounding him. Any moment now, he’ll say it. And what if you respond with no? He hasn’t considered that. He’s been so entranced by your future together that he didn’t even entertain the idea you wouldn’t want to be part of it. Small obstacle, you just need a little bit of convincing.

He’s not the type to show his jealously, mainly because there’s no need to. If someone flirts with you, you’re not worried for Hanayama’s feelings but for this stranger’s safety. You’ll choke in terror trying to warn them to step away and if they still persist you know you’ll never see them again. One does not mess with the yakuza and lives to tell about it. Hanayama further contributes to this reputation.

The young man is very much aware of your fragility and would never do anything to permanently damage you. That said, he really can’t help the dizzying adoration that overwhelms him whenever he uses his knife on you. Just small, superficial lines gently tracing across your body, that immediately bloom into bright red flowers, cluttering along until they finally burst into an intricate mosaic. He feels like a poet penning his love for you in the most intimate way conceivable, because you’ve offered yourself as a canvas for his eyes and his control only. The Madonna of his existence.

Katsumi Orochi

Katsumi wouldn’t say that he’s taking it too far. He followed all the proper steps, from the innocent secret crush, to shyly confessing his feelings, and finally the drunken delight of hearing your acceptance to date him. There’s nothing wrong with skipping some steps. There’s no textbook claiming that love has to be gradual and evolve in time. If you know you’ve met your soulmate there’s no reason to hold back. And from the moment he laid his eyes on you he’s been certain, this was not mere coincidence.

He’s clumsier than he’d like to admit when it comes to romance, but one thing his extensive karate training has provided him with is discipline. He has a little notebook to keep track of your interests and likes, and if he’s completely clueless about something he will research it later. It helps him keep his plans organized and simultaneously make sure he won’t miss any detail about you.

It he thinks about it, love is a lot like karate indeed. A natural charm for it can hardly compete with raw passion and hard work. Step by step, he can see the fruits of his labor. Martial arts require a cool mind however, and while he’s learned to remain collected and act without haste in a fight, when it comes to you he can’t seem to remain still. His thoughts are burning hot and erratic and the tangled chaos in his head is exhausting. He wishes he could lay out his love for you and carefully smoothen all the folds, but maybe the inability to do so just further proves you’re a special case.

He also doesn’t consider himself to be a jealous individual. Right? In the middle of his training he finds himself idly pondering about such a scenario. He faces the wall, trying to picture a rival that might steal you from him. Silly. You wouldn’t leave him like that. You know how much he loves you. Or do you? He loves you so much. So much. So fucking much. His vision returns and his eyes widen at the large dents and cracks he left in the wall. The skin of his fists is throbbing, irritated.

Katsumi is rather needy during intimate moments. Whether you want him as your dominant or submissive accomplice, he will beg or demand for your words of love. Let him know that you don’t belong to anyone else. That you’re all his, forever and ever and even after death. Always.

Chiharu Shiba

Chiharu is an extremely stubborn man, so if he concludes that he has feelings for you, absolutely no rejection will get through to him. He doesn’t just fall for anyone and isn’t as shallow as to base his interest on appearance alone (though he did almost crash his bike once daydreaming about your face). It’s everything about you that’s convinced him there’s no one else for him. So now he just has to prove that similarly, no one else is better for you.

I feel like he would use his sturdiness and resistance to pain as a way to manipulate you into agreeing with him. You’re unsure whether you like him more than a friend? Is it because he’s not skilled enough? You don’t trust him? He’ll pick random fights with anyone and no matter how battered and bloodied he is, no matter how much you plead he stops, he’ll keep going until he’s dead or until you give in.

It’s his personality to show off. From the flashy bosozoku uniform to his customized retro Kawasaki, he likes to make it clear to others where his priorities lay. That includes his partner, of course. Not only is he the proud leader of Tokkoutai, but more importantly the one you belong to. If he’s feeling extra cheesy he will greet you with a dramatic spin and reveal he had his jacket stitched to some kanji symbols representing your relationship.

Chiharu is not particularly proud of it, but his bouts of jealousy often end in violence. Potential rivals lead him on a downward spiral of anxious what-ifs. He struggles with a certain feeling of inadequacy whenever he compares himself to other fighters. Put him next to someone like Baki and he fades into nothingness; No elaborate fighting skills, just a hard skull and a bunch of dirty tricks. Will that be enough to protect you from anyone? For how long? Before he knows it, his knuckles are dyed red and whoever approached you too fondly is scattered on the ground.

Safe to say this man has a lot of stamina and will be at your service 24/7. Anytime, anywhere. Just let him know. Feeling especially needy? He’ll throw you on the hood of the nearest car and just take care of you regardless of who’s watching. You’re strongly considering keeping a spray water bottle in your bag to keep him under control when you’re in public.

Despite all this he is very soft spoken and careful around you. He would never, ever hurt his precious darling (Y/N). And he won’t allow anything else to hurt you, either. He would die for you. Actually, scratch that. He’ll do you one better. He would kill for you.