#anzai x reader

[manias-wordcount]

Look and (Don't) Touch (Yuuki Anzai x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 (𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝘁𝗮𝘅 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝗹𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗹). 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝘂𝘇𝘇𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆 𝗷𝗼𝗯 <𝟯 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗰𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗿𝗻. 𝘀𝘂𝗲 𝗺𝗲.

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

When he asked you what you wanted for White Day, you recall not saying much.

After all, it was going to be your first White Day with him as your boyfriend. Hell, this was going to be your first white day with a boyfriend, period. You didn’t really have any expectation of how this was supposed to go. And knowing his background, you knew that he didn’t either. But you’re a simple girl. You like Yuuki Anzai because he’s Yuuki Anzai. So you were more than sure you would like whatever he managed to do or get you so long as it came from the heart.

​

So when he got you a matching little lingerie set from that expensive store, your eyes had only lingered for a measly few seconds the one time you guys had gone to the mall together, you didn’t know what to think. But you did know what to feel: happy. Very, very happy.

​

And sexy. Very, very, very sexy, in fact, that you’re in love with yourself.

​

And worried you might just end up killing the very man who bought you this.

​

“You know…” You mused quietly, turning in front of the floor-length mirror in your room as you smoothed your hands across the thin fabric tastefully covering your skin. For a few seconds, you’re almost captured by the sight of your own body in a way you’ve never really felt before. Were you always this pretty? Did you always look this good? It’s amazing just how much the right clothes (or in this case, the lack thereof?) could impact how much you perceive your own body. The same body you’ve had since forever. The same body you’ve seen every day. But now that you’re standing here? Now that you’re looking like this? You can’t help but just feel like you’re seeing a brand new you in the mirror. “...I’m starting to wonder if this was more for you than it was for me…”

​

Though you suppose the boy struggling to keep himself upright on your bed while sneaking glances at you has a lot to do with this renewed sense of self-love you’re starting to feel.

​

At your teasing remark, you hear your boyfriend of almost a year groan, completely unable to defend himself from your little accusation that you both know might be true. When you asked Yuuki to surprise you for White Day, you didn’t think he’d do anything crazy or special. After all, you knew weeks in advance that he would be at work until this afternoon and on call for the rest of the evening. Plus, you didn’t think the chocolates you made and the necklace you got him for Valentine's Day were really all that much. At least, you didn’t think it was enough to warrant all of this.

​

Not that you’re truly complaining. You haven’t exactly been able to take your eyes off yourself either.

​

There’s a small part of you that wonders if it’s vain to stand in front of a mirror this long, just to admire yourself. But as you turn to the side, your eyes focuses on how the fabric of the lacy, red, lingerie set Yuuki bought you compliments your skintone while being the same color as his eyes when he’s transformed. The lace of the panties hugs your hips and backside, stretching a simple yet delicate-looking floral pattern against your skin. And the matching bralette does the same, adorning your topside in such a pretty way that you can’t help but smile softly at yourself.

​

So what he wasn’t able to sneak away from work until it was already dark outside? So what your “fancy White Day dinner” was take-out from that noodle place by the station, and dessert was a tin of marshmallows and chocolates that looked too cute to eat all at once? You were more than happy- more than satisfied by the time the two of you started to unwind. He did his best. He made you feel spoiled and special and loved and adored for the few hours the two of you got to share on this day.

​

And then just before midnight…just before you could even suggest going to bed, something in him must have snapped. Because only then did it seem that he was finally feeling brave enough to shove the bag with this last little gift in your hands while ordering you to change.

​

You told him that he didn’t need to do this before even taking the bag. You told him that you were already so happy with all the love and affection that you received before you even looked inside. And you told him that he shouldn’t have, the moment you peeked inside at what was hidden within all of that wrapping paper. Because he really, really shouldn’t have. Though that doesn’t mean you aren’t glad that he did.

​

Not only because just looking at yourself like this makes you feel so…so great, but because the more you look at your reflection, the more you can’t help but watch Yuuki through the mirror as he slowly and quietly unravels just a mere few feet behind you. Right now, he’s still sitting on your bed- exactly where you placed him before leaving your room to get changed into his little present. But you can tell that his resolve is crumbling. Because at the moment, he’s got one hand balled up on your bed, gripping at the sheets tightly, while his other hand is trying (and failing) to cover his eyes and keep you from view. Though even from the mirror, you can tell that he’s sneaking little peaks through his fingers as you continue to turn and twirl in the mirror.

​

But, to be honest, you don’t need to see him to know that he’s a little more than just “happy” that you like your present. You can hear him. Or rather…

​

“Yuuki~? You alright over there, handsome?”

​

You can hear his “happiness.” That is to say, you can hear his labored breathing as he not-so-subtly adjusts himself in his pants in an attempt to get some sort of relief from all the trouble you’re causing him.

​

“S-sorry…” He breathes out the apology, the word pathetically slurred as if he were drunk. On instinct, you turn towards him- worried your teasing might have gone a little too far and that you were seconds away from needing to use one of his shots on him. You admired his self-control. And from the few unfortunate run-ins that you had with other vampires, you know just how lucky you are to have fallen in love with one who has such a tight grasp on his own urges (though admittedly you are a bit cruel to him at times with all your teasing). But you two still had to have a protocol in case things ever got out of hand. Luckily for you, it seemed he didn’t need to be subdued. But he did need something. “Knew you’d look good but…didn’t think…didn’t prepare for how good…how good…”

​

You. He needs you. And here you are showing him exactly what he needs and refusing to give it to him just yet. All because you can.

​

As he trails off, you spot the hand he was using to cover his eyes rather shamelessly reach for his bulge that was currently straining against his pants.

​

With your direct attention on him, it’s easier to see the exact effect all your showboating has had on him. He hasn’t transformed fully. At least, not yet. But one peek at his half-lidded eyes that are almost completely hidden by his messier than usual dark hair tells you that he’s close. Really, really close to losing it all. And on top of the obvious, and possibly quite painful, erection he’s sporting right now, you can see that his teeth have gotten sharper and his nails have gotten longer. And despite this, Yuuki wastes no time in that moment, opting to rub himself over his pants as his eyes run up and down your body.

​

The groans he let out are wanton and wanting, as his gaze makes its way up your legs and hips. You see him lick his lips as he admires how your body fills out the fabric, apparently wearing it better than he could have imagined. His gaze seems almost reluctant to leave your hips, but when you watch his eyes jump from your hips to the soft flesh of your stomach, to your chest that was just barely covered by the thin, red lacy fabric, you can’t help but giggle at the way his body twitches with pure, unadulterated need.

​

He curses. You laugh a little harder. He asks- no, begs you not to do that. You take a step closer and ask him to explain what he means. He swallows thickly, harshly, before calling you all sorts of names as you creep closer. Tease. Vixen. Minx. His.

​

But by them, he’s already run out of things to call you. In fact, he’s completely run out of things to say. Though that may or may not be because you’re currently on your knees in front of him, reaching for his belt and slowly unlooping it from his pants as you look up at him with a coy smile that has him shutting up and gripping your sheets even tighter than before. By the end of the night, he’ll probably have to buy you a new pair of sheets to replace the ones he’s moments away from ripping up. Hell, by the end of the night, you’re sure he might need to buy you a new lingerie set. If he can handle the thought of seeing you in something like this again, that is.

​

Either way, none of that is going to stop you. You’re here because you want to return the favor, after all.

​

Because can’t a girl thank her boyfriend for the cute little gift he gave her? Can’t a girl have a little fun in the present she received? It is White Day after all. And he did have to leave you alone for so long today. The least he could do is let you have even more fun while you have him here. Because while you’re sure he had a nice time looking at you…

​

“So you got me in this thing…now are you going to help me out of it? Or did you have something else in mind~”

​

…you have a strange and funny feeling that he didn’t buy you this cute little number just to watch you parade around in it.

[manias-wordcount]

The Tempting of a Devil (Yuuki Anzai)

Kinktober 2025 Day Twenty-Eight: Masturbation

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You’re asleep in his bed. And your top doesn’t fit the way it's supposed to.

You came over a couple of hours ago, bearing your homework to do in case he got called into work again. And like clockwork- he did. So he found himself leaving you and your sad smile alone at his place to entertain yourself until he got back. And he promised. He promised that he wouldn’t be long. The call didn’t sound that serious. They probably didn’t need him, specifically. Just a couple of extra hands. He’ll be back before you know it. He’ll be back before it matters.

It’s two in the morning by the time he’s making his way through the front door. 

He sees your shoes still by the door and your bag left on his couch. He sees your homework is finished, and left in a neat pile on top of your lecture notes and textbooks on his table. He sees your dishes from dinner on the drying rack and his dinner, completely untouched, on the counter right where he can find it as soon as he gets back. And he sees the door to his bedroom open just a crack. Just enough for him to peer through. 

Just enough to see you.

He’s standing in the doorframe leading to his bedroom before he knows it. He’s peering down, watching you like some sort of creep, before he knows it. But he can’t help it. He can’t stop. Because in the dark of the night, he sees you, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through his blinds. You’re tucked underneath his covers. Eyes closed. Breathing softly. Nice and sweet and warm and cozy under his sheets. On his bed. At his apartment. He found you there. You went here on your own. And here you are, waiting for him. To wake you up. To crawl into bed with you. To be here with you. 

It makes him smile softly despite knowing that there’s no one around to see it. It fills him with a warmth in his chest. You’re so cute. This is so domestic. It makes him feel so trusted. You could have left at any time. You could have finished your homework and gone home. Hell, you could have gone home the second he got pulled away to work. Or the moment you realized that he wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon. But you didn’t. You simply moved in for the night. You reminded him that you’re his, even when he’s not there to say it. 

His heart swells at the thought. You’ve been so accepting of him. You’ve been so understanding. So patient and so caring of him. And to find you here after a hard, long shift of chasing devils and cleaning up society? To find you safe and sound and cuddled up in his bed? Awaiting his return? It makes him want to lean down and kiss you all over. Your forehead. Your cheeks. Your nose. Your lips. Your-

Just then, you move.

It’s a slight shift. One that brings the covers down, just a tiny bit. But in reality, you’re just turning on your side. Just turning towards him, as if you sensed his presence. But your eyes are still closed. And your breathing is still even. You’re still asleep. You’re still peacefully asleep. Blissfully aware of his presence or his thoughts or his feelings, or the world around you.

But your top doesn’t fit the way it’s supposed to. 

It’s a tank top. One made of a thin yet soft and breathable material. One that plunges a little low in the chest every time you wear it. One that must have been old or well-loved or both, based on the way the straps are stretched out and the color has faded. But your top doesn’t fit the way it’s supposed to. Maybe it did once. But it doesn’t anymore.

He knows this because, as you turn towards him, the front of your top gets caught around something, causing the fabric to be pulled to the side and dip down low. Lower than before. Lower than it should be. And low enough, one of your perfect, supple breasts slips out without you even noticing.

Before he even blinks, he finds himself locked in his own bathroom with his hands undoing his belt. The effect you have on him is powerful, as it is instantaneous. He can’t get the image out of his mind, and he can’t seem to move his hands fast enough. Because it feels like it takes ages for him to free his erection from his pants and wrap his fist around it, and start pumping as he furiously masturbates to what he just saw. What he just witnessed.

Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. 

“I wanna…” Words tumble out of his mouth softly. They’re not planned. And they flow out in careless whispers for him and only him to hear. But at the moment, he can’t focus on completing that thought. His mind is too preoccupied with that split-second memory of the unbearable beauty in your helplessness. So instead of trying to control himself. Instead of trying to contain the excitement, the arousal he feels at some little glimpse of a part of you he hasn’t seen yet, he lets himself go. Just a little bit. He feeds the devil in him. He feeds the man in him. But he starves it too. “I need to…I need…need…”

He starves it by simply spitting into his hands and wrapping it even tighter around his dick instead of going back out there and pulling back to the covers to wake you up to someone you might never forget.

With a curse, he leans his back against the door of the bathroom and lets out a harsh breath as his eyes flutter closed. Like a ghost, it haunts him. You haunt him. You curled up on his bed, exposing your body so carelessly like that? It nearly destroys him. But so do the little details he seems to suddenly recall now that his eyes are closed and all he can hear is the sound of his hand stroking his cock like a lifeline. 

Like your scent. It was all over his place. But his room was doused in it. He wonders if his bed is the same way now. He wonders if he smells like him or if you smell like his bed. He doesn’t know. He can’t decide. Does he want you to smell like him? Or does he want his world to smell like you? It’s a hard, hard decision. He wants both. Realistically, he wants both. But he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle either. So he tries to think of something else to calm himself down. Something to keep him death gripping his cock so hard that he’ll draw blood. Something to keep him from going back to his room and finding out what he prefers for himself.

But it’s impossible. As he tries to think of the case he just worked tonight, he thinks of clothes. He thinks about all that he saw in the surroundings, and the clothes the bystanders were wearing. He thinks of the girl wearing a shirt he thought you would have loved and briefly considered buying for you. But that leads him to thinking about how he saw the clothes you were wearing earlier today, folded up in a neat pile on the desk in his room. You’re not wearing them. He knows you’re not wearing them because he’s seen you wear the top that you’re currently in, late at night when he’s at your place. You always cover it with a soft little cardigan. One that drowns you in fabric and reminds him that you’re so, so, so different from the dark world he lives in. But he knows he’s seen you in that piece before. And he knows it’s never been that big of a problem before. At least, not in the way that it is right now.

But he’s also seen you wear those shorts before, too. Those loose-fitting, cotton shorts. The ones he always found to be adorable and flattering on your figure. The same shorts he just saw in a crumpled pile on the floor right near his bed. The bed you’re currently sleeping in… 

He pictures you in nothing but that top that doesn’t fit right and a pair of panties hidden under his sheets. He pictures you in the epitome of the crossroads between sex and comfort, and it nearly destroys him.

He opens his eyes and peers downward, looking at his debauchery for himself- looking for a way to ground himself now that he’s recognized just how thin his failing resolve is. The tip of his cock is flushed an angry red color as it stands erect between his legs and within his hand. There’s already a trail of precum leaking from the head at a steady rate, making a physical mess of an already messy situation. It’s smeared all over the tops of his fingers and the back of his hand. It mixes easily with his spit. But it’s not what he wants. It's not what he needs. He needs you. He needs the nectar you produce from the space between your thighs. He needs to pretty the sounds that only your voice can make. He needs your body. He needs you. Fuck, he needs you.

But one look at the long claws he has protruding from his fingers, and he’s back to closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, and leaning his body back against his bathroom door once more. 

He fights the urge to back into his room. It’s hard. It’s impossible, even. But he keeps fighting. He keeps jerking himself off alone with a grip that’s too tight and a pace that’s too fast. 

And he does it in the dark. He does it in secret. He does it alone. He does it in his bathroom, where you’re just on the other side of the wall, sleeping peacefully like the little angel you are. But he does it. He keeps biting back his groans of desire. He keeps himself in check. He keeps the monster- the devil inside of him contained. As much as he can. As much as he possibly can. Because he has to. He needs to. 

Because if he sees you? If he gets to you? If he touches you? If he gets to have you?

“A-anzai…? Is that you in there? Are you back from work now…?”

He might not ever let you go.

[wenumsmol]

4 chapters in and its a whole lot of plot okay... there's a lil smut sprinkled in but it so plot thicky.

Slow burn... slow burn... we are SIMMERING.

[crybaby-bkg]

𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

Yuuki Anzai x female reader (Devils’ Line)

Warnings: blood kink/drinking, smut, teasing, mutual masturbation, unresolved feelings, riding/cowgirl position, he scratches reader/digs his nails in, muzzles, and handcuffs. please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.1k

Notes: can’t believe I’ve loved devils line for so long and never wrote anything for anzai!! I hope you all enjoy!!

Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Also available on ao3!

Becoming a cop was never something you thought would come to fruition for you. Not because it was necessarily a dream of yours, but because you had dreams of doing something—anything—else. But, life is tricky and it turns you in all sorts of directions until, you guess, you’re where you should be.

But staying in a shared complex with other cops and Devils was something you never thought would be in the cards for you. You didn’t hate it though, found a family within the people there, a home within the chaos of the bar when everyone got a little too tipsy and happy. It was great there, and you had little issues. Well, save for one.

And that one’s name was Yuuki Anzai. A half Devil that was tormented with the Red-Eyed part of himself, self hatred oozing off of him with every plunge of an injection and suspension from higher forces. Anzai wasn’t a big issue, you had to admit, but goddamn, was it hard to force down your feelings for him.

Humans and Devils were barely prohibited to have a relationship together, much less a work-place relationship at that. But, that didn’t stop you from sneaking into his place at night when the halls are silent, and no lingering eyes follow you.

“Anzai?” You whisper as you close the door quietly behind you. “Are you up?” Your eyes dart around the room, trying to adjust to the darkness, gasping when a pair of navy blue eyes suddenly appear at your side.

“Yeah, I’m up,” Anzai murmurs, chuckles a little when you jump away from him in surprise. You pout a little, narrowing your eyes at him as you punch his shoulder, softer than you should with the way your heart damn near jumps from its cages.

“Don’t scare me like that, asshole!” You whisper-shout, arms crossed over the other as you try to make out his entire form in the still darkened room. “Can we get some light in here so I can see your annoying face?”

You hear a little puff of air blow through his nose in amusement, his feet shuffling against the floorboards, before soft light suddenly floods the room. Your eyes immediately dart to Anzai’s form, tall and lanky, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stands too close for you to not have heard him walk back over. His hair curls around the sides of his neck, his dark bangs covering his eyebrows and shadowing the eyes that stare down at you all the while. There’s a tiny little smirk on his face, and you want to kiss that mole by his mouth. So you do.

“Can I kiss you?” Anzai asks, but you’re already leaning in, stepping forward until your toes bump and your arms curl around his shoulders, bringing him to your face. You breath in his breath, smell the tea you fixed for him earlier in the night still lingering, feel his lips skim against the softness of yours. But you skip over his mouth, purposefully, lips directed to that little beauty mark that you, for some reason, can’t help but adore.

“I think you missed my mouth,” Anzai tells you, a little tut in his words as he blinks his eyes open to look at you. You smile, cheekily, shrugging your shoulders a little as you lick your lips, skimming his own in the process.

“Yeah?” You tease, swaying him a little, looking at him from under your lashes. “Wanna guide me in the right direction then?” And he barely lets you get the words out before he dives for your lips, his mouth smoothed over against yours. The kiss is both gentle and firm, his lips sliding against yours, smacking against each other as he pulls back for another one, and another one, until you have to pull back for breath.

When you do, your eyes flutter open and, it should scare you, the way red bleeds into the whites of his eyes. But it doesn’t—only a comfort to know that the man you have adored for so long loses every piece of himself whenever he gets the briefest taste of you. He wants more, and it’s obvious in the unsteadiness of his breath and the bulge that pokes at your thighs. And you do too, with your pulling hands and guiding feet over to his neatly made bed.

But Anzai stops you—he always does whenever it goes beyond kissing. He can handle that, he always tells you, but anything more makes him lose control. Is it bad that you want the loss? That you want the feral and the rawness of him letting loose and taking you in the way he cares to, so primally? Is it bad that you encourage it, with a tilt of your neck and a nod of your head?

“We can’t keep doing this.” Anzai mutters, blinking rapidly when you ignore his words to unbutton his shirt. He grabs your hands in his, making you look at him through your lashes, a soft frown forming at your lips.

“I know.” You whisper back to him, curling your fingers around his own until he embraces your hands, sighing a little under your breath. You understand his hesitance, his fear, but everything has gone right the other times? What’s so different about right now?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He admits, his eyes holding a sincerity that makes you glance away in guilt. You don’t want to pressure him, make him feel tense and worried every time you fall into bed with him. But how could you stop when everything felt so good? When the risk and the fear of it all made your orgasms taste all the sweeter?

“You won’t.” You pull your hands away from his own, cradle his warm cheeks in your palm. Anzai’s eyes flutter shut as he breathes in deeply, his mouth opening softly on his exhale before he looks at you again with a stare so intense, you wonder if telling him you love him would ruin the moment.

“This is going to be the last time, okay?” Anzai tells you, his voice firmer than you would like it to be. But you nod anyway, quickly, pulling him in for another kiss as you two fall into bed.

His shirt comes off first, and then yours, fallen into a pile on the side of the bed, long forgotten. The handcuffs are next, as you click them into place, lips locked all the while, moaning when he grunts into your mouth with every roll of your hips against his. You look down at him from where you’re perched in his lap, how the whites of his eyes are gone, now a full blood red and smoky yellow, his irises thin and slit, reptilian like. He’s never been prettier, you think, as you dive in once more to slide your tongue against the seam of his lips, feeling him invite you in as you work your bra off next.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Anzai mumbles under his breath when your tits fall in his face, eyes darting between the two, before he closes the gap of his mouth and your nipple. You throw your head back in a moan when he sucks the bud between his lips, hands pawing at your belly all the while. You run a hand threw his hair, biting at your bottom lip as you watch his mouth greedily suck at the tight skin around your nipple. When he switches to the other one, he notices you watching, moans a little around the other bud, pulls back to lick at your areola before he growls and dives in a little harsher this time when you sound prettier than he expects.

With a quickness he doesn’t anticipate, you push Anzai back down onto the bed, his hands still holding onto the fat of your stomach, as his eyes start losing a bit of their control. You tut at him, shaking your head a little when his teeth, sharpened and wide, start to protrude from his gums, grinding slowly in his lap when he goes to sit up again. You snatch the muzzle from under the bed quickly, slipping it over his head before he can get up, clicking it into place as he growls a little, bucking his hips up against your own.

“So misbehaved, aren’t you, Yuuki?” You ask him, voice a little disappointed huff, teasing, watching how his eyebrows screw down. You gasp a little, eyes fluttering, before you snap your neck down to watch how his nails protrude, poking into the thin skin of your stomach, creating a tiny little tear. You watch how the blood drips from the small wound, how it coats his fingers, how his cock jumps from underneath you at the sight and smell of it.

“I’ll let you taste it,” you tell him, leaning forward until your weight is rested against the entirety of his body. “But only if you split me open on your cock first.” You tack on the last part with a lick against his earlobe, gasping with a little chuckle when Anzai’s whole body lurches from underneath you, his words slurring from behind his big teeth and muzzled mouth.

“Fuckin’—lemme just—cmon—“ he makes no sense, and you don’t need him to. The bloodlust is damn near ripping him apart, as his eyes dart from your pants still a barrier between you two, and the red that coats his fingers the more he digs his nails into your skin. You pull back when he starts to sink too deep, swatting at him as you wag a finger in his face.

“Play nice.” You warn him, eyes narrowed as you start to slip your pants and panties down off of your legs on the side of the bed. When you’re bare, Anzai growls, deep and low in his chest, tries to remove his own bottoms, but it proves difficult with the handcuffs. So you help him, watch him wiggle his way out of them until you can shuck the bottoms off from around his feet, a growing pile of clothes in your peripheral that you can’t be bothered to care about at the moment.

You watch how, in your distractedness, that he slips his nails between the bars of his muzzle, how he licks at the blood that stains them, eyes rolling back at your heavenly taste. You shake your head at him, climbing back on top of him until your legs are spread and you sit on his thighs, right below his plump balls.

“I didn’t tell you that you could taste me yet, did I?” You ask Anzai with a cock of your head, and a pout of your lips. “Hm, seems like I forgot to prep myself first too. Let me do that now, actually.” You wink at him, watch how his eyebrows furrow down as he bucks underneath you. His cock rests on his belly, curved to the left, his tip a soft brown and pretty, leaking precum all over his navel as it twitches when your middle finger dips inside of your hole.

“You don’t prep yourself any other time. You’re just trying to punish me.” He growls, a tiny whimper in his throat, his hands unable to reach you in this position. So he holds his own cock with both hands instead, pumps it every time your finger slides inside of your cunt, a rhythm that enchants him the entire time.

“Should’ve listened then, huh?” You ask in a sigh, sliding in another finger as you go to quickly stretch yourself out. While you did it to fuck with him, you’re just as impatient to feel his fat and hot cock splitting you open better than a toy ever could. So you do it with such a quickness, that you have to force your eyes open when you hear that familiar wet sound of a cock being stroked.

Anzai looks beautiful like this—all blood red eyes and dedicated golden irises stuck on the sight of your squelching pussy, his teeth daunting and sharp from beneath the muscle, his chest and pretty brown nipples heaving with every sharp breath, his big hands engulfing his cock with every wet stroke, his thighs burning underneath you.

“Fuck, I can see how wet you are.” Anzai huffs, and you’re surprised he’s still this much in control to not be reduced only to whines and growls and grunts. Your fingers speed up at the sound of him, scissoring your fingers as you try to hurry to open yourself up to take him.

“I can’t wait to feel you around me.” He mutters, eyes clenched shut as he starts to plead under his breath. “Cmon, stop teasing me. Please.” He’s so desperate, that it almost makes you cum. You have to rip your fingers out, chest heaving as you will your orgasm away, body shuddering as your hips jerk a little, wet hole grazing the plumpness of his balls, and it’s almost enough to make him snap.

You climb on top of Anzai quickly, holding his heavy cock beneath you, sinking down on him with no preamble, no teasing, no hesitation. You had to feel him now, felt like you might burst if you waited any longer. You have to rattle the bars of his muzzle when he damn near howls when your hole starts to swallow him up, remind him that this is supposed to be secretive, that you as a human shouldn’t be riding him, a Devil, like your life depended on it.

But you both give into your primal instincts far too soon into the night, and the noises he makes are enough to alarm anyone who hears them. And if they do, they pretend to be oblivious.

“Oh shit, you’re squeezing me so tight.” Anzai grunts, eyes scrunched closed before he forces them open to watch you. Watch how your thighs bounce and tremble with every drop of your hips, how your lips swallow his cock, how your soft walls caress the veins forking up his shaft, how your slick dribbles down from your pussy to splatter and smother his balls. You’re covering him in your scent, and the blood that still momentarily drips from your belly doesn’t help either.

You must notice where his eyes have landed, as you chuckle a little, breathlessly, thighs still working as you ride his cock. You scoop a finger through the bloody mess on your skin, holding it up high in the air, watch how his eyes follow like a dog with a bone. Anzai makes a low noise between a hiss and a growl when a drop of the red liquid drips onto the hard planes of his stomach, hips starting to buck up to meet your rhythm.

“Want a taste of me? Huh, baby?” You ask him, grinning when he snarls, when he’s reduced only to noises and wordless demands of more. You give it to him, give it all, as you hold your finger above his muzzle, watch how he strains his neck to taste it when it plops against his mouth. He moans at that, head thrown back before he straightens up again, teeth clenched as he growls through them,

“More.” It’s a command that startles you, not expecting to hear such a low tone come from the usually calm and collected man. But it only makes you tighter around him, moaning a little louder than you should when he starts snapping his hips underneath you, almost throws you off of his lap from how hard he starts to fuck you.

“S-So greedy,” you try to tease him, but it’s difficult when the curved tip of his cock is hitting every right place inside of you. You listen to his demands, swipe up more blood that he carves out of you when his nails meet your skin again. You hold it over his mouth, watch how it drops and messes up the clean bars of the cage when you miss, how his thick tongue swirls around his lips to get every drop of you.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper to Anzai, barely able to keep yourself up, still letting crimson drip from your fingers to satisfy the man, the Devil, beneath you. He groans at that, at how your cunt clenches sporadically around him, finally takes his nails out of your skin to instead hold them against your mound. He’s careful in how he angles himself, until his thumb is positioned so your clit can rub against it with every stroke of his cock inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Anzai!” you whimper, eyes clenched shut as the rough pad of his thumb is enough to drive you over the edge. You cry out, louder than you should, but its hard to remember volume control when his cock and his finger feels so good against your cunt. You clench around him, feel your slick cover his cock and drip onto his balls, how wet it suddenly gets when you hear him grunt loudly before he orgasms alongside you. Its harsh and hot, makes you moan underneath your breath as you feel it spread inside of you, look between your legs to watch how it drips down the inside of your thighs to make a mess of him beneath you.

His grunts and growls are unintelligible, his noises deep and primal as he keeps shooting inside of you until his body stills and collapses on the bed. He sighs, low and quiet in his throat, and your body sags as the adrenaline starts to wear off. You glance down at the mess you’ve made, at your stomach with tiny little cuts and blood staining your skin, at what’s become of between your legs.

“Hurry up and transform back. You’re on clean up duty this time.” You tell him with a sigh, collapsing on his chest, feeling it heave a little when your tongue snakes out to cheekily swipe at his sensitive nipple.

“You’re only gonna make the process take longer if you keep touching me like that.” Anzai mumbles, cock twitching inside of you as you feel his nails scratch gently where they wrap around your neck.

“Sorry,” You giggle, hiding your face in his chest, pecking gently. Anzai strokes at your skin for a while before he finally starts to transform back, his skin losing its heat and his stroking nails back to their normal blunt state. You look up at him, at his navy blue eyes and red stained mouth, kissing at the bars of the muzzle, as he tries to kiss back.

“Get off your lazy ass already,” you tell him, laughing when he instantly blames you for not taking the muzzle and handcuffs off already. It’s a much more sweet and domestic scene than you ever thought possible with a Devil, but you already wish for more moments like this with him, without the world breathing down your necks, and with as much love in his eyes as it is in yours.

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

Grumpy | Anzai HCs + Drabble

cw/tw// corruption kink, degradation, rough sex, blood drinking. biting, creampie, size kink, authority kink

Fighting bloodlust + insomnia = short temper

He's never really been great about listening to authority, or following protocol. And he hasn't really given a fuck about pretending that he was.

Which leads to a lot of fights and suspensions and guilt because if he's suspended then he's not out there helping as much as he can

This gets somewhat solved when he gets with you

Sleeping with you and actually feeling rested afterwards makes dealing with the blood lust easier, and he's less testy at work

But no matter where he turns for advice he gets the same answer, you two need to start "training" to deal with his blood lust and lust for you safely in the long run, for both his job and your relationship

Fast forward five years, and he's still a somber mostly silent man when you guys are out in public on his off days, but he's so mellow in comparison many of his friends look at him like he's grown a second head sometimes

When they ask you what you do to make him so calm, you just smile and blush and tell them you "spoil" him

No one buys it

"Anzai.." You called from bed, the sheets barely covering your naked form where you were sprawled out comfortably.

Your fiance hummed but was still focused mostly on the case file in front of him, which was not what he should be doing when the moon is out. If he didn't rest during the night hours the day hours were hell on him. Rest, for Anzai, meant two things. Sleep and sex.

And given the tense set of his shoulders and the frown on his handsome face you guessed sleep would have to come later.

"Yuuki." Still no response.

"Baby." A slight smile this time, but his eyes were still trained on his files. That meant he was waiting for his favorite.

"Mister?" You didn't have to fake the softness in your voice, it was always there in that place in your head where he was Mister and you were his little girl- waiting to be corrupted. Ruined.

Finally, he put the paper down and you could see the slight shiver that passed over him.

"What's your safe word little girl?"

"Sniper."

"Remember it." Was the only warning you got before he was dragging you naked from your bed and pushing you to your knees, the soft carpet the only thing saving your joints as you reached up to take out his cock just like he taught you.

The wet spot on his briefs had your legs clenching together and by the time you were struggling to fit him in your mouth you were also fighting the urge to touch yourself.

Anzai noticed and he laughed in that condescending way that made you whimper.

"Is my slutty little girl craving some dick in her cunny?" You tried to nod, but he was holding your head in place while he fed you every inch of his throbbing length. He balls were bouncing off your chin chasing the pleasure your pleading eyes gave him. He managed to pull out of your mouth before he came too early, but just barely. He helped you up and nudged you towards the bed- one hand still stroking his thick shaft.

"Hands and knees, baby. Just like I showed you."

You know your thighs are still a mess from the last time, you'd felt the slickness when you'd woken up looking for his warmth when he left the bed. So the groan from him you guessed was from how hot it looked. You preened, arching your back to show off because you wanted to be pretty for him.

You wanted him to be pleased with you.

"Fuck. You're perfect." His hand came down sharply on your ass and you whined, but you only pushed your ass out again. Obediently taking the pain he trained you to crave. But it was the way his voice was deeper now that had you hoping..

You glanced over your shoulder and you saw his fangs flashing along with the half red half white of his eyes, and the yellow of his pupils that signaled his stable half transformation. And god if it didn't make you that much wetter.

"Mister, your teeth are really big. Are you going to bite me?" Another smack made tears well up in your pretty eyes, and he nodded.

"I'm going to bite you while I'm deep inside your tight little cunt. It felt good last time right?" Despite his seemingly considerate words he only gave you the barest bit of prep before he was pressing his cock against your folds.

"Y-yeah, you made me feel really good down there-" Your own scream cut you off as he slammed inside you fully in one thrust. His cum kept you from tearing but the painful stretch caused your tears to fall down your cheeks as you cried.

Anzai groaned his grip on your hips becoming painful as he started fucking you harder, harder, as hard as it took to make sure you kept crying such pretty tears for him.

"Mister! Please, it h-hurts.." You begged through your tears and your fiance's only response was to start abusing your clit as well. Now your legs were shaking from the overwhelming stimulation of the pinches and slaps to your clit.

How was he to resist striking and biting your jugular vein when you were making such ridiculous sounds, fucked dumb and crying on his dick?

That set you off, clenching and cumming around him as the final dose of pain pushed you past the threshold he tricked you into loving. The pain only made you cum harder around him, milking him for every drop of cum he fucked into your spasming cunt.

He was growling wildly at your throat as he finished feeding with a few particularly deep and cruel thrusts to make sure his seed was packed in deep.

So maybe you did more than spoil him..