UNDER PRESSURE
a fateful encounter one rainy night takes you into the den of the wolf, tenjiku’s members have taken a liking to you, and you’ll soon discover what gaining the favor of a bunch like them entails.
YANDERE TENJIKU x CHUBBY READER
word count; 4.5k
ft. kurokawa izana; haitani ran; mochizuki kanji; madarame shion; muto yasuhiro; haitani rindo
contents; dark content ahead! yandere, possessiveness, obsession, reader is mentioned to be a nurse in training, dub con, non con, handjobs, spanking, doggy style, lack of personal space, dirty talk, use of the word slut, rough sex, unprotected sex, clit slapping, intimidation, handjobs, threats, oral- vag! receiving, public sex, breeding, dumbification, squirting, fingering, somnophilia, breeding, mentions of murdering.
this was a commission for the loveliest, kindest and sweetest @noodletooties i had a lot of fun with this, i missed writing about the tokyo revenger’s cast, thank you once again for your support, it means the world to me! 🥺🤍✨
if you want a commission, check out the post and don’t be shy to send me a dm, i’ll be happy to write something for you!
You hadn’t meant to meet him, to meet them.
It had been raining, the kind of heavy rain that makes people run towards the warmth and safety of their homes, pulling up blankets and making themselves some tea; that had actually been your plan prior to getting sidetracked by the grunting sounds coming from the alley on the back of your building.
You had hesitated, you were tired enough as it was, but something had called out for you. Later, laying awake at night after being the prisoner of one of their passions, you would come to wonder if what had called you was their destiny or yours. Because it sometimes felt like you had been dragged into their lives without an ounce of care on what the outcome would be for yourself.
He had been laying on the ground, bruised and beaten. A broken lip, blood spilling from his forehead. It had hit you into action, it had taken away from the previous hesitation of your steps as you had hurriedly reached for the figure of the man in the dark.
He had been in too much pain to attempt hostility, but his eyes had remained sharp as he had watched you leaning over him, swift hands assessing, careful voice asking for his name, asking for an explanation on why he’d end up like this. Back then you hadn’t learned that most of your questions would always end up with empty answers, or silence.
That had been the case that fateful night as you had stared into Izana’s purple eyes for the first time. He didn’t have enough strength to get up, he could still feel the fresh kick that had landed him against the wall after the impact had hit him straight on the ribs. It’s not that he hadn’t wanted to get up and tell you to leave, your eyes were too tender, too caring for someone so used to not matter. But he was too tired and his vision had started to get blurry, still, with the strength left in him he had carefully watched each and every one of your movements.
Back then he wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but it had felt good, the press of your palm against his chest, the way you had leaned over his face, delicate fingers treating the deep cut on his forehead.
After the third try on getting him to tell you something, anything, you had given up. You had decided to count yourself lucky for having had just the right amount of material to help him even if for a little while. You had seen him around of course, you had seen all of them around actually. When you first moved into your apartment complex you had decided that you’d focus on your work, and on your life and would avoid the clearly delictive group living so close by that whenever they came in late at night you could hear the engines of the bikes die down when they parked.
How naive.
They have carved their existence in your life, have taken all the space in your heart, desperate to build themselves into you. Etch their souls so deeply within your own that you are unable to even phantom life without them. If there are some tears and resistance from your part, well, that’s on you. And it’s not like they don’t enjoy seeing you cry.
Madarame always approaches with fake politeness, as if the short lived act could somehow make you forget his true nature. When he finds you cooking, the smell of spices and the heat of what almost feels like a home he grins.
His arms are around your middle in a second, finding comfort in the soft fat of your stomach as he rests his head on your shoulder. For a moment you are the image of domesticity, he doesn’t care that your shoulders have gone stiff, relishing on your presence.
“Oh? You’re cooking for us again? I’m getting used to getting spoiled you know…”
You mutter his name, asking for space, but he doesn’t budge, the only thing that takes him away from you is Izana's voice as he enters the room and orders him to pull away.
Your relief is short-lived, because he is there when you open the door to your apartment, taking away from the sanctity of your personal space while shamelessly sorting through your panty drawer. “You have some bold choices here~”.
You never thought your kindness would bring you here, forced to stillness because his hand has found home around your throat. Your eyes are pure panic as you uselessly try to get him away from you, it makes his blood pump at your fear. He can smell it, and it makes him rabid. “A pretty little thing like you is too difficult to ignore, if you didn’t want me pouncing on you then don’t start doing stuff that will make me wanna keep you”.
You tell him he can still stop, you tell him you won't tell anyone. As if that would stop him. He laughs, a cruel cackle before pressing his lips against yours, claiming, rough.
He has you on all fours before long, large palms spreading you open for him, an obscene vision that fills him with desire. His large palms squeeze and grab at the fat of your ass as he jiggles the flesh between his hands despite your pleas for him to stop, or telling him is embarrassing. A second later his hand spanks against your right globe, and the strength is enough to have your face pressing into the fabric of your duvet. A muffled gasp chokes on your throat as he repeats the motion on the other asscheek.
He slaps until the skin is red and tender. You started sobbing at some point in the middle of his assault but that only drove him further. When the tip of his cock finally presses into your twitching and tight hole is pure humiliation as he blankets over you. “Fuck, you’re wet after I spanked you? You really are a sadistic slut, aren’t you?”
You shake your head, but your attempt at a protest is stopped as he bottoms in, in a single movement that rips a yell from your throat. His thrusts are brutal, unrefined movements that chase after his own release, and yet he is so long that it’s pressing into you in such a way that it doesn't take long until you’re panting. You aren’t sure if the tears espcaping from your eyes are only pain; at his brutality, at the way he whispers in your ear how fucking tight you are or how you look so pretty all fucked out, or if the tears have more to do with the way his heavy balls slap against your ass with every wild push. What you do know is that you are coming, completely undone and unable to escape his suffocating strength as his palm finds your clit and starts slapping into it with so little care that you jump at the contact, but he doesn’t care, your wetness makes his fingers sticky and he isn’t planning on letting you pull away.
“That’s it, let it go”, he delivers one last strike that has you tipping over the edge, and in the middle of your coming haze you feel him pull out, a second later he is grunting while his own warm release lands on the abused expanse of your ass, coating the redded skin with claiming intent.
You had wanted to be supportive, and yes, maybe your curiosity had been part of the reason why you had agreed to come see Rindo play, to help and figure out a bit more about what’s hiding under the surface of Haitani Rindo’s seeming nonchalance. You would soon come to realize why some things are better left unknown. He confuses your smile with adoration, and thinks your caring nature means you want him, that you need him.
The lights are neon and the music is loud, bodies move on the dance floor and suddenly his eyes landed on you, you actually came. You catch his eyes in the middle of the sway of the body around you and offer him a brief smile, and for Rindo it feels like victory. You’re finally in his turf, away from Izana’s ever present eyes, always so careful of how long he allows you to be close to him. Always in the way, believing himself stronger, better.
He finds you in the back of the bar, a cup held in your hand as you greet him.
“Did you enjoy the show?”
“You’re very good Rindo-san”.
He is leaning over you, a hand softly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I know you are really busy with school, so I’m happy you are here”. In anyone else’s voice this would sound like a harmless compliment, but coming from his mouth it feels off, a bit too intense. It has you backing away from him only to find your ass hitting the wall behind you.
Rindo doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, he is too busy caging you in, eyes roaming your body up and down, as if assessing your choice of outfit while giving you a sideways smirk.
His free hand reaches for the edge of your skirt, fingers slowly dancing against your skin while he idly toys with the hem of the garment. “This is a pretty skirt”.
You want to say something, but your voice seems stuck as his nose reaches your pulse point, tongue darting out and lapping at the flesh. He can feel you trembling, it’s making him dizzy. His voice has a dark intention when he asks, “Are you shy?”
You shake your head in denial even if there is no real conviction behind it, but he seems to believe it, his face lights up. “Good, because I’ve been eager to taste you”.
He is on his knees before you can ask anything. His nose pressing into the fabric of your panties while the loud echo of the music is making you shake, or maybe is the way he has pulled your panties to the side and decided to start lapping at your core. He works you to wetness with surprising ease, the unashamed slick sounds he makes as he hums in delight at your taste fill the air, at the way your soft thighs press into his head as you can’t help but reach for his hair when he starts tracing fast movements over your clit. You look so pretty, so undone. He likes you like this, completely drunk on him and unable to deny him.
His fingers are grabbing the inner part of your soft thighs with a killer grip as he makes you open up for him, wanting to feel you so close you’ll forget where you start and where he ends. He teases the entrance of your heat, unable to not lap and slurp on your juices, the ones that are now coating his lips. He knows you are getting close, he can feel it in the way you have started to moan out his name and the way you have shamelessly started to hump into his face, restraint or shame too far gone as he sucks around your clit with killer intent.
He keeps lapping as you ride your high, tongue desperate to get until the last drop of your essence. He gets up, pupils dark and chin covered on your own arousal, is enough to make you turn your face to the side. But he doesn’t let you, he pulls you by the chin, crazed eyes cause you look so pretty all flushed and agitated like this.
He utters a single word before sealing it with an obscene kiss that has you tasting yourself in his mouth. “Mine”.
Once you had thought Yasuhiro Muto would be your salvation, you had mistaken his stoicism and calmness as sanity, as mercy. But you don’t end up in a place like Tenjiku by being kind. His ruthlessness is quiet, but is there, right underneath the surface. He uses it to protect the people he cares about.
He uses it to keep you safe, to make sure you understand why you can’t leave. Under the surface of his seeming stoicism lies the storm, the strength and he uses it as his touch guides you by the hips as he makes you sink down on his thick cock, it takes your breath away as he lets you ease into it. One of his large palms sets on the lower and softest part of your stomach, eyes softening as he enjoys the warmth of your insides, he always reaches so deep.
“Can you feel how deep inside you I am?”, he squeezes, as if nothing would make him happier than being able to see the way you are connected from the inside. His other hand comes to tenderly caress your cheek, the delicate profile of your pretty face, the kind of beauty he only remembers seeing on a work of art.
A beauty too bright for his world. He thought about it, about letting you go, about helping you settle down someplace else, somewhere far from the blood and the violence. Far from all the hungry eyes and eager hearts trying to catch a piece of your soul. Turns out he is just as selfish as the rest of Tenjiku.
He starts thrusting his hips upwards with ease, with that quiet strength that manages to make you feel small despite everything, your hands wrap around his neck as you hide your face on the crook between his neck and shoulder. His pace is steady and calculated, meant to make you feel every inch of his cock with detail, and it’s breaking your sanity, cause it’s deep and it’s precise, but it’s not enough.
He knows it, he knows he is just off enough to really hit the spot that will have you whimpering his name. He teases you a bit, just enough to make you gasp. “You want more? Want me to fill you up?”
His strokes are harder now, tempting with the promise of his perfect rhythm. The image of your belly swollen and filled from his seed has him pushing him forward, but he wants to hear it from you, wants you to admit how much you want him.
“Use your words”, he orders, as he forces you to look at him, tilting your face by the chin.
“Please”...
His lips find your neck, tongue flattening against the delicate column of your throat, savoring the shudder of your breath and the wild beat of your heart against your pulse point. Delicious.
He finally gives you what you need, what you asked for, his legs are now making you bounce on top of him, cock reaching so deep that you can’t help the whines coming from your lips, he fills you so well, so perfectly.
Your walls clench around him with a death grip, one that has him ramming harder into you, with the way you chant his name and wrap your legs around his waist.Yasuhiro is sure that you must love him, you must need him just as much. You must want to be his, only his. He will claim you, once and for all, once he empties himself inside you, you’ll carry his seed inside you.
He’ll make you all his, and if he can’t breed you tonight, it doesn't matter, eventually he will, he’ll just have to keep pounding into you, until his weight atop of you and his hands burning your skin are all you can remember. If he needs to he’ll spread your legs open for him, pounding in so deep that when he spills inside you again there’s no doubt that you’ll finally carry a part of him and he’ll be able to call you only his.
When Ran asked you out shopping you had assumed he meant grocery shopping. You hadn't expected to end up in the chair of one of Harajuku’s hottest hair saloons, scalp being massaged white Rindo yaps with the owner about how you are always working too hard for everyone and needed some pampering.
Maybe you have been wrong about him, maybe he isn’t as detached as you had assumed, prior to this you’ve barely exchanged enough conversations, his bored gaze has always been too freshly aware of your movement and that has always managed to keep you on your toes around him.
The sun that graces Roppongi’s streets bounces off your freshly washed and blown out hair, Rindo’s face closes in on you as he runs his deft fingers over the soft tresses,the length bouncing and swaying as you walk, he is completely unaware of how your personal space has now become his. “Well, well, aren't you a pretty thing, makes me wanna stare at you all day”.
You find his sudden attention a bit overwhelming to be honest, he pulls you through the streets with his palm firmly pressed into the lower part of your back, his steps are long so you struggle a bit to keep up. When you turn to look at him he gives you a lazy grin, and you start to notice how his fingers have begun digging into your flesh. When you run into an acquaintance of his he introduces you casually as “his girl”, you give his friend a stiff grin, starting to feel a bit suffocated by his touch.
When you reach the secluded booth of a daily lit restaurant he insists on sitting next to you despite your protests. “Ran-san, I’m sure you were just joking, but please stop telling people we’re dating”.
His arm, so lazily slung over your shoulder until now brings you impossibly closer. A perfectly still but hardened expression turning his features into stone. “I’m not joking, you think I ask just any girl out and get her all dolled up just for me to end up empty handed?”
You’ve started to hear static over the low buzz of the restaurant ambience, Ran is as impassive as ever as his free hand reaches for the zipper of his pants, slowly dragging the teeth down as he frees his cock from the confinement of his clothes. His member is already half hardened, angry red tip and curving shape as it pulses inside his fist. He pumps himself slowly, eyes nerve leaving yours as his other hand has grabbed a hold of your waist.
“Your turn”.
You try to put some distance between you two but his grip is ruthless against you, his hand reaches for your own smaller one, forcing your palm to wrap around his pulsating length. He exhales in relief at the touch. “Do it like this…”
You are panicking, eyes looking all around to see if anyone can see you, although it seems he wouldn’t really mind if that were the case, he has started pumping himself with your touch, grip tight around your hand as he spits on your connected hands to add onto the friction. Your heart is on your throat as you look into his eyes, trying to find some semblance of decorum, of fear, but he just leans over you and steals a kiss from your lips while groaning into your touch. “Just like that, you’re doing so good baby, feel so good around me”.
He bites your bottom lip as you try to protest against him. “Do what I say or I’ll make you kneel under the table so I can fuck your throat”.
And you know he will, so you keep going, increasing the pace on your own just to make sure this ends soon, he thrives on your new energy, kiss turning desperate and his release washes over him in a sudden spurt. Hot and sticking to your joined hands and the front of his trousers, an intrusive thought wanders in as you wonder if he’ll walk outside like that, but that small concern is soon replaced as his voice reaches you once again, his teeth softly nibbling your earlobe as his breathing tries to become even again.
“For dessert I’m gonna have you suck me off”.
You find Mochi too soft and cute of a nickname for someone who holds so much violence and anger, he is brash, he is loud, he gets easily exalted, and to your misfortune he is obsessed with you. He is there to take you to your night shift, uninvited and unprompted, he can't have you walking around alone so late at night. People are dangerous. Someone could try and snatch you away. Try to get you away from him.
He wants to believe your laugh is all his, so when one day he approaches to kiss you goodbye after he took you home and you place your hands on his broad shoulders it doesn't make sense. Why are you crying when he is kissing you? This is a happy moment, he is giving you his heart.
You slap his face in an attempt to make him stop, the grin that lits up his eyes should definitely not be there after that. It’s too unnatural. “Baby, if you wanted to play rough you should've said so”.
The slap he lands back against your cheek has you tumbling backwards, makes you disoriented and it takes your breath away from the sudden impact. The reddening mark blossoming on your round and so squishy look like face has Mochizuki smiling in that crass way of his. He closes in again, large hands pulling you impossibly close by yanking you by the waist with so much strength you bounce into his large chest. His voice is a hoarse call. “So soft”.
It doesn’t take him long to have you spread open for him, forced to lean into his chest after he has ripped all your clothes away from you, you can feel the thickness of his member pressing into you back as he keeps you in place, legs spread and bent open for the thick intrusion of his fingers inside your pussy.
It’s only two fingers, but it’s making you whine around it, stretching around his imposing girth and his rough ministrations. He is living for the way you squirm and kick your legs as he reaches that spongy spot inside you that has you mewling around him. “You like that right? I know I’m big, you gotta be ready to take me or I will break you, and I want to have lots of fun with you”.
“Mochi… please…”
He doesn’t hear a stop, he hears a go deeper. And he does, harder thrusts as his other hand finds your clit and forces the little and sensitive bud into stimulation with his rough attention. He lacks delicacy or tact. It 's too much. You feel something different inside you, something threatening to spill. The squelching sounds of his combined assaults fill the room as he keeps going, harder, rougher, careless on the way you have started babbling because you can’t think straight anymore.
When you come is embarrassing, it gushes out of you wild and unrestrained, it has your body spamming into his chest and your legs feel like jelly. Mochi brings up his hand to his mouth, completely covered on your slick in an obscene scene, he laps at the juices with vehemency. You can feel him throbbing against your ass, and as he presses the tip of his thick and heavy cock into your entrance you know he isn’t done.
Izana had fought against it, against you. He had a plan to achieve and being hollow kept him motivated, made him focused. Granted him no more chances to get his heart broken again. After losing Shinichiro he didn’t think he had it in himself. But you managed to make him care.
He watches you as you come and go, long hours, long shifts. He wonders what motivates your kindness, what makes you go that extra step just to help a total stranger. It’s unfamiliar for him, he is too used to being left behind. Forgotten.
You approach him after that first encounter under the rain when you’re coming back home, a warm smile lighting up your eyes as you reach his side. “Are you feeling better now?”
You seem honest. He stares at you, lilac stare taking in the details of your face, the pretty hue of your skin, the soft curve of your cheeks. You look like something he could long for. Like someone he could stare at for a whole lifetime.
He quickly grows to hate everyone’s eyes over you. He notices everything; their lust, their craving, how they cling to your shape as you work on a fresh cut on their skin. Patient and concerned as you ask them to be more careful. Rindo’s gaze bothers him the most: intrusive and unashamed as it rakes over your ass as you lean down to pick up that packet you just dropped.
It’s late but he knows you’ll be home, he has your schedule memorized by this point. Your home smells like fresh clothes and home. Makes him long for something he never had, but he is planning on getting. His mind is made up, as he walks towards the closed door of your bedroom he can feel his blood pumping, craving your affection.
His cock strains inside his pants as he sees your body laying in bed, completely at peace, unaware of how he has reached the edge of your bed as he palms himself over his boxers. You are just perfect for the picking, soft stomach poking underneath the thin cotton of your top. He lays next to you, bare and cock already leaking precum as one of his hands reaches for the supple mound of your breast, you exhale a sigh when his thumb caresses the perking nipple, your body reacting to his care as you start to to toss a bit, brows furrowing at the groping path his wandering hands have started to trace on your torso, fingers digging at the softness of your hips and waist, cock starting to rub into your thigh.
His lips find your neck, nose filling with your shampoo and tongue flattening against the delicate column of your throat, the sharp bite that has his teeth sinking into your neck is what finally has you waking up. Your eyes shoot open in distress, pinned under his body, his eyes are looking at you with possessive devotion.
When you call his name, he doesn’t hear the fear, he can only hear the same heat that is making him move. You ask for an explanation but he is eerily smiling at you, a crooked grin that makes you shiver. You try to toss and move but he is straddling you, strong hands pinning you in place as he leans over to kiss you. A rough desperate kiss as his hands cup your face with almost tenderness.
“I was starting to get impatient. I was waiting to finally get your eyes on me”.
“Iazana, what…” It's difficult to talk, too focused on the way his hands are roaming over you, greedily taking on the way you feel against his touch.
He is too occupied dragging your panties down over your legs to care for your protests or questions, hard and leaking tip dragging along your wet folds as you beg him to please stop, too dazed out and confused to fully understand how things got to this point. If only you would have known that your honest concern would be your undoing, that he has been feeding on your warmth and has decided you are his, that he wants that calmness, that ease you bring into every room all for him.
When he pushes in there are tears falling from your pretty eyes, he laps at them, too enamoured by the sight. His thickness makes your walls wrap around him, his thrusts are patient and rough, slowly breaking away at your sanity, at your refusal.
He thinks you are a vision, made only for him. To haunt him, to save him. He’s not letting anyone else have you. He will be your past, your present and your future.
Your sobs have started getting louder, his calloused thumb finds your clit to apply a brutal pressure over it, loving the way you clench around him in response. “Look at that, so sensitive for me, so beautiful”.
You shake your head, it’s too much, he is too deep, he is being too rough. He chuckles at your attempt to refuse. You’re too wet to really mean it, you feel too perfect and are clenching with so much strength that he wouldn't be able to pull out of you even if he wanted to. This means you want him too. His free hand wraps around your throat as he feels you tipping over the edge, your orgasm so strong it has your legs shaking as you are forced to take what he gives you, his warm sperm painting your insides much to his joy.
Your nails are digging into his shoulders as he continues the assault on your sensitive throbbing clit. His lips are on your temple, tenderly juxtaposing the rough hold he has of your hips as he makes sure you have squeezed him dry of everything. There’s only you and him in this moment, only your warmth against his, only your eyes staring at him, and he plans on keeping it that way. He doesn’t care that he might have to get rid of all the other gazes that insist on claiming your attention. He can find new allies anywhere, ones that won’t even dare to look at you without his permission.
