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Aizawa Shouta Hair

Taming the Empire's Ruthless Monsters as My Beast Villain Husbands

The woman sat still, legs crossed, a hand resting lightly on each leash. The chains led downward — left and right — disappearing beneath the black folds of her throne. The only sound in the room was the soft clink of metal against the stone floor. On her left knee, the leash was taut — held firm in her fingers, black leather wound once around her palm. The chain stretched to the man kneeling below, his head slightly bowed, thick black hair falling across sharp golden eyes. The lion insignia gleamed darkly against the collar at his neck. On her right, the second leash hung more loosely, though not by much. The man it led to sat still — silver-haired, pale-skinned, his chest rising and falling with quiet restraint. The panther emblem at his throat shimmered under the torchlight, his ice-blue eyes locked ahead, lips drawn in a silent snarl. Both were silent. Both were beautiful. And both were leashed. The woman, however, did not look at them. Her gaze was locked forward — on the man kneeling in front of her, hands tied behind his back, posture proud despite the blood at his lip. The green-haired man tilted his head back and laughed. “Shame,” he said, the sound echoing in the chamber. “The Emperor of the North and the Southern Duke… reduced to nothing more than pets. Is that what you do now, Leash Mistress? Break kings and chain them at your feet?” The woman didn’t blink. Her eyes stayed fixed on his. But the panther shifted slightly, the chain tightening an inch under her hand. The lion growled, low and deep. The green-haired man smirked wider. “Dogs. The both of them. Well-trained, I’ll give you that.” “Cats.” Her voice was soft, but the room fell silent. She leaned back in her seat slightly, her fingers curling around the leashes as if they were natural extensions of her hands. “They are cats. And tell me…” Her head tilted faintly, just enough to be unsettling. “Isn’t it wolves who become dogs? Not lions. Not panthers.” The green-haired man’s jaw clenched. '!' drip A sweat bead fell from his forehead, trickling down through his cheek as his eyes trembled. The green pupil held cunning and shrewdness to escape any unknown path as the assassin mercenary group's leader trembled, not because of the woman, but because of the man standing beside her who looked at him. The man with the black hair and golden eyes glinted sharply at the command of the collars pulled, and even the one with the silver hair, glinting with sapphire eyes, directly at the green-eyed man caused him to tremble in his whole being. He knelt with his head turning down as he realized, while his wolf insignia glowed near his ear. He would be leashed soon like them. He would become the dog under her leg... the dog he had just laughed at.
K1ERA · 2.5K Views

A Perfect Bet Does Not Exist! [BL]

Kamakura Metropolitan University practically worships its resident bad‑boy brood: Akuma Takashi and his hand‑picked trio—Tomo Aizawa, Reiho Tsukishima, Itsuki Moriyama, and Takumi Kisaragi. Handsome, untouchable, and forever bored, they survive on one intoxicating pastime: reckless bets. The whole campus swoons over them, yet something about the quartet feels… off—too polished, too predatory, almost supernatural. It’s a sun‑soaked Thursday when trouble finds them. Akuma lounges in the cafeteria, annotation pen hovering over a battered paperback, when Tomo drops into the seat opposite, eyes gleaming. “Bro,” he drawls, “bet you can’t make the very next person through that door fall hopelessly in love with you.” The glass doors hiss. In walks Kaito Ishikawa—hood up, earbuds in, radiating I‑dare‑you apathy. Once upon a freshman year, he was Reiho’s favorite target; lockers, insults, sucker punches—Kaito endured them all with a single bored blink and a muttered expletive. Reiho flinches at the memory. “Bad call, Tomo. The guy’s got ice water for blood and a tongue like barbed wire.” Itsuki arches a brow; Takumi gives a low whistle. Tomo just smirks wider. Akuma snaps his book shut, eyes tracking Kaito’s deliberate stride. A lazy, dangerous smile curls across his lips. “Challenge accepted,” he murmurs— and in that heartbeat, the game is on. Akuma Takashi is the very definition of breathtaking. With white marble hair that dances with the wind and ocean-blue eyes that could drown you without warning, he’s the kind of beauty that makes people stop mid-step—and girls quite literally beg for his attention. He’s tall—like, stupidly tall—standing at a striking 180 cm, and he knows how to use every inch of it. And then there’s Kaito Ishikawa—just 165 cm of pure, concentrated menace. A short, sharp-tempered little villain, armed with jet-black hair, deep brown eyes, and zero tolerance for bullshit. He’s either buried in a book or glued to his phone, rarely acknowledges class, and yet… he’s always topping the academic charts. How? No one knows. Why? No one dares to ask. Frankly, no one cares—because Kaito doesn’t give a single damn about being understood. He’s chaos in a quiet package. And Akuma? He might be the only one insane enough to unwrap it.
mangobee_7 · 778 Views

If I Die Tomorrow, Will You Cry Today?

For Arata Itsuki, life is a movie where he's just a background character. His mission is simple: be invisible, graduate peacefully, and never get involved in the drama of the main characters. He is a master observer, and his primary subject is Aizawa Nanami—the goddess of perfection, the school idol whose life seems flawless. Their worlds were never meant to intersect, save for one anomaly: the cold hatred Aizawa Nanami always directs at him, a mystery too exhausting for Arata to solve. But his gray routine is shattered when he witnesses the tragedy that takes Nanami's life right before his eyes. That horror should have been the end of an ordinary day, but for Arata, it was just the beginning. He wakes up on the same day. Again, and again. Trapped in a prison of time, Arata soon realizes the only rule in this loop of fate: the day resets every time Aizawa Nanami meets a tragic end. Arata, the apathetic background character, is now forced to be the hero in a story that isn't his. The problem is, how do you save someone who wants nothing to do with you? Someone whose gaze could freeze your blood? With each repetition, Arata begins to see the cracks behind Nanami's perfect mask. He soon understands that the accident was no coincidence, but the climax of an unseen suffering hidden behind the goddess's smile. To break the cycle, Arata must become not only her protector, but also a detective, unraveling a past trauma that is the root of Nanami's hatred for him. Faced with a repeating destiny, Arata must find the answer to an impossible question: IF I DIE TOMORROW, WILL YOU CRY TODAY?
Flowfy · 4.4K Views
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