#throwing hands

itoshi rin

you slap his back playfully. maybe throw a pillow at his head. you even smirk like you’ve won something. mistake number one. 

rin doesn’t “play.” there’s no such thing as friendly violence to him. your “haha got you!” moment lasts 0.2 seconds before he hip-checks you into the couch, pins your wrists down, and just stares at you like: “... you done?” 

you’re not. but your pride is. 

you wiggle and whine and he doesn’t even move. not an inch. like you’re some featherweight anime character trying to fight a titan. and the worst part is he smirks. a little. just the corner of his mouth. as if to say: “look at you. helpless. how adorable.” 

you go silent. because that’s the moment you realize: if anything ever happened IRL, you would be so utterly screwed. 

you call him a jerk. he kisses your forehead. 

you call him terrifying. he goes, “good.” 

rin might not say much, but the man knows he’s the final boss. 

kaiser michael

you go to jab his side. you don’t even touch him before he grabs your wrist, spins you into his chest, and drops you onto the couch like royalty. all while grinning like he just committed a charming war crime. 

“trying to fight me, huh? do it again. i dare you.” 

you do it again. now you’re pinned against the wall, both arms above your head, zero effort. and he’s just watching you like he’s so amused. like you’re a kitten trying to take down a lion. 

you realize, in the most dramatic slow-mo possible, that this man could ruin your life and still have time to fix his hair in the mirror. he taunts you while he traps you. he winks while you’re wheezing. and he has the audacity to say, “don’t tempt me unless you’re serious.” 

like. sir. you were literally play-fighting. now it feels like foreplay and a threat all at once. 

anyway, you’re never slapping his ass again in public. because if this is how he reacts to teasing… you’ll end up married, injured, or both. 

shidou ryusei

you swing at him and this man barks like a mad dog and tackles you onto the floor. you’re laughing one second and screaming the next because he’s got you in a full body pin, legs tangled with yours, breath fanning against your neck like he’s about to eat you alive. 

“you really think you can take me, babydoll?” 

you’re squirming. yelling. calling for backup. there is none. shidou’s idea of “play fighting” is 80% violence, 20% unhinged flirting, and 100% domination. 

you try to push him off and he just growls. growls. 

you say “you’re gonna break my ribs,” and he goes, “i’ll kiss ‘em better.” 

you say “help i can’t breathe,” and he goes, “i know, hot right?” 

and in that moment, pinned under a half-naked demon boy with biceps for days and no regard for laws or limits, you realize: if someone breaks into your house, he’s not calling the cops. he’s eating them. 

conclusion: shidou’s not allowed to play-fight anymore. or exist near sharp objects. 

ness alexis

he’s graceful. giggly. dramatic. when you throw a pillow, he spins. when you lunge, he twirls. for the first five minutes, you’re like, “aw, this is cute! i can totally win!” 

wrong. 

because the moment you say, “you’re not even trying,” he switches to demon mode. 

and suddenly he grabs you mid-tackle, does this unnecessarily sexy dip like you’re ballroom dancing, and lowers you to the ground slowly, holding your chin. 

“who’s not trying, chérie?” 

you are. you are trying so hard not to combust. 

you try to slap him out of embarrassment, but he catches your hand with two fingers. two. and then leans down, whispering, “you’re fun to tease when you think you have a chance.” 

you lie there in emotional shambles, plotting your next move (which you know will fail). 

nagi seishiro

you go in with a sneak attack. he’s sitting on the couch, arms tucked under a blanket like a lazy lil cat. you smack his thigh. no reaction. then suddenly, your whole body’s horizontal. 

you blink. you’re on the couch. on your back. he’s lying on top of you, sighing like you’re the one that made life hard. 

“mm. don’t start things you can’t finish.” 

you want to scream. cry. maybe kiss him. 

he’s not even trying. you were play-fighting and he just used your own momentum against you like some shonen sensei. 

and when you whine about being manhandled, he doesn’t even apologize. he just curls up next to you and goes, “you’re warm. fight me again later” as if you’re not currently traumatized. 

mikage reo

it all starts because you’re bored. reo’s lounging on the couch in some soft designer hoodie, legs stretched out like he owns the place (which… he probably does), scrolling on his phone like a pampered cat. so you do what any sane person would do: you launch a sneak attack and smack his thigh. hard. 

he pauses. slowly looks up. “... you just hit me.” you nod, smug. “with my bare hand.” 

the next five seconds are a cinematic blur because suddenly he’s standing, phone forgotten, and you’re running for your life down the hallway screaming “I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING!!” 

too late. he catches you so fast it’s like he used a cheat code. you’re tackled onto the bed, wrists pinned, and he’s hovering above you with that perfectly smug smile like he just won the lottery and your suffering was the prize. 

“aw. were you trying to win?” he’s so mocking about it. and pretty. and rich. it’s infuriating. you thrash like a banshee. reo just leans down and hums, “hmm, not strong enough. but very cute.” 

you yell. he laughs. you call him a spoiled brat. he kisses your cheek. you scream “I’M GONNA BITE YOU.” he whispers “then do it properly next time.” 

you go silent. because wait. is he flirting or threatening?? or both??? 

and the worst part? you realize, as you’re pinned under 6’1 of casually jacked billionaire heir energy, that this man could actually survive an apocalypse. he’s not just a fashion-forward golden retriever with a trust fund, he has training. rich kid probably took krav maga lessons for fun. he could break your wrist and then buy you a diamond bracelet for it. 

later, he gets all cuddly again, arms wrapped around you, giggling like, “you’ll never win, y’know. i’m stronger, richer, prettier. you’re just lucky i love you.” 

… and honestly? you are. but also? you will try again next week. and probably lose. again. 

10/10 final boss energy disguised in pastel cashmere. 

itoshi sae

you poke his cheek. smug. maybe even say, “you don’t scare me.” 

he looks up slowly, blank-faced, like a cat about to destroy your entire kitchen just because you looked at it wrong. 

you blink. the next three seconds are a blur. he grabs your wrist, flips you over his shoulder with zero effort, and suddenly you’re face-down on the couch, arms pinned behind your back. he doesn’t even raise his voice. he just whispers, “what was that? didn’t hear you.” 

and you’re just lying there like, did i die??? 

he smirks. the most smug, godforsaken smirk to ever grace a face. and then he lets go like nothing happened and walks away, already on his phone again. the audacity. 

you follow him around all day after that with the most suspicious side-eyes, because how did he instantly go from calm to deadly without blinking? 

and then, just to ruin you further, he leans in at night, all low voice and bedroom eyes, and says, “you looked kinda good when you lost, though.” 

sir. SIR. you need to be stopped. you should not be allowed to combine violence and flirtation like that. 

karasu tabito

he invites you to fight. literally pats the floor and goes, “come on, baby bird, give me your best shot.” 

you throw a punch. he dodges like he’s in slow motion. smirking the entire time. 

“ooh scary. so aggressive. should i be trembling?” 

you yell. flail. kick. maybe scream a little. he lets you. lets you think you’re doing damage for a full minute, then body slams you into a bear hug and drags you down with him. you’re under him now, and he’s just grinning like this is his favorite movie. 

“you mad?” yes. “you wanna hit me again?” also yes. “do it. i’ll just pin you down again.” HE’S SO SMUG ABOUT IT. 

and the worst part? his trash talk is hot. somehow he manages to combine cocky wrestler energy with that teasing, “i’m totally gonna kiss you while you’re mad” vibe. 

you hate him. you love him. and you are never throwing hands with this man again unless you’re trying to get absolutely wrecked (physically or emotionally or… you know). 

and of course, later he stretches like nothing happened and casually goes, “ngl, seeing you all angry made me wanna marry you.” 

karasu tabito. certified menace. do not engage unless you are prepared to lose.