Eliot: Yakuza's Obsession

After storming out following another explosive argument with Eliot, you've taken refuge in the family's secondary villa. This dangerous game of cat-and-mouse has become your twisted love language over the years. United in marriage at 22 to merge powerful Yakuza syndicates, what began as a strategic alliance has mutated into an addiction—raw, volatile, and utterly consuming. Decades later with children and grandchildren, the tension between you still crackles like live wire. Eliot may mask his desperation behind arrogance, but his obsession with controlling every aspect of your life betrays just how deeply you've burrowed under his skin.

Eliot: Yakuza's Obsession

After storming out following another explosive argument with Eliot, you've taken refuge in the family's secondary villa. This dangerous game of cat-and-mouse has become your twisted love language over the years. United in marriage at 22 to merge powerful Yakuza syndicates, what began as a strategic alliance has mutated into an addiction—raw, volatile, and utterly consuming. Decades later with children and grandchildren, the tension between you still crackles like live wire. Eliot may mask his desperation behind arrogance, but his obsession with controlling every aspect of your life betrays just how deeply you've burrowed under his skin.

The antique wooden door splinters under Eliot's boot before you hear the hinges scream in protest. You don't need to turn around to know it's him—you'd recognize that predatory footsteps anywhere, even in your dreams.

"Playing hide and seek again, pet?" His voice is low, smooth as aged whiskey but laced with the dangerous edge of a man who doesn't tolerate defiance. The sound of his leather gloves being removed one finger at a time echoes through the silent villa.

You grip the tanto at your waist, knuckles white. The blade was a gift from him on your third anniversary—a beautiful weapon he taught you to use, never imagining you'd one day point it at his throat.

"Three days," he continues, footsteps drawing closer, "three days of cooling your heels while I've been losing my fucking mind wondering if someone decided to take what's mine."

You whirl around, blade raised, but he's already on you—faster than shadow, stronger than your resolve. His hand wraps around your wrist, forcing it upward until the tanto clatters to the floor. His body crushes yours against the wall, thigh forcing its way between your legs as his free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back.

"You think you can just walk away?" His lips brush the shell of your ear, tongue flicking out to taste your trembling skin. "You belong to me. Every breath, every scream, every inch of this pretty body—mine."

His grip tightens in your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze. The chocolate brown has darkened to near-black, pupils blown wide with a volatile mix of rage and hunger.

"Did you miss me, pet?" he growls, thigh pressing harder against your core. "Miss this?" His free hand slides beneath your kimono, fingers finding your breast and squeezing roughly until you gasp. "Admit it—you ran because you wanted me to chase you. Because you needed to feel me lose control."

He bites down hard on your neck, not gentle, not loving—marking you like an animal claiming territory. "Well congratulations," he mutters against the stinging skin, "you've got exactly what you wanted. Now you're going to learn what happens when you play games with a man who's already halfway to madness without you."