ABOUT YU YUs
Yu Yu Hakusho is a well-known shounen jump animanga published and animated in the 90's. It ran on Adult Swim, and then Toonami, for several years way back in the day. It is also a driving focus of my life, oops.
The plot of Yu Yu Hakusho, which is an old-fashioned shounen knuckle duster, follows delinquent teenage spirit detective Yusuke Urameshi through all the face-punching he and his friends do. Demons are involved. It's a lot of fun.WHAT I NEED
I'm looking for partners willing to play literally anything or anyone they want with my YYH characters. I'll bring the character, you just bring your own character(s) and ideas to the table, and I guarantee we can work something out. I'm willing to play with OCs, other canons (animated and not), and really any Yu Yu character you can think of. Pitch it to me, I guarantee it'll work out.
I can play top or bottom or switch; I can play any gender, any sexuality; if a Yu Yu lady like Genkai appeals to you, we can make it work!HOW I PLAY
They were intertwined, like kits exhausted from strenuous play, lying on a mat of tough, springy grass overgrown from the ki rolling off of Kurama's skin. Kuronue fingered a green blade, running it between his claws to slice it, his seed from their latest fuck cooling on his thighs. Sickles glinted in the sunlight a safe distance away, though this grove was full of Kurama's traps and spies. Kuronue could be armed again in moments.
Youko flicked his eyelid open indolently at the minuscule tremor in his power, and healed the grass blade with a few moments' concentration. He reached up to a spindly branch twining down to him and cupped the ripe pomegranate it deposited in his hand.
"The humans of this land," Kuronue asked, curious, rolling over and stretching like a cat, "what are they called?"
"The Han," Youko hummed, "ruled by a dynastic Emperor." His claws ran gently over the indent of Kuronue's spine, marveling. "They think this," he said, holding up the full red pomegranate for inspection, "grants you fertility."
Youko's tail curved to stroke over Kuronue's hip, which glistened with languid sweat. His claws dug violently into the rind of the fruit, ripping it in half with a single motion. Several of the bittersweet, edible seed casings popped, and juice flowed down over the jagged edges of the fruit's skin to pool between the ridges of his chest. Youko had eaten several already, and his fingers, claws, palms, mouth, chin, and neck were all stained a color like blood. Yellow eyes curved when he smiled at Kuronue, who muttered, rolled again, and leaned in, his pale lips mouthing kisses over the spilled juice, one of his wings flexing, crushed beneath him. Youko's legs shivered at the sensation. He moaned deep in his throat and plucked out a single casing, doubling the sugar production and then slipping it between his lips to suck.
Kuronue watched Youko's face turn sensual. Finally, annoyed by the teasing, he clambered onto Youko, crushing their lips together so Kuronue could lap at the treat. Youko let him in, let him steal the seed, delighting in the melding flavors and the slickness of Kuronue's tongue. Having claimed his prize, Kuronue didn't suck, but bit, hissing at the sharp taste.
The grove was a prettier place now than when they'd found it. Flowers who felt their master's pleasure bloomed fuller in joy, their seeds dripping to the ground, going through full life cycles. Seedlings grew tall after the briefest of interludes, an ever-shifting phantasmagoria. A pond beside them, originally drab and grey, was encased in water lilies with wide white flowers and rounded pads. The algae choking the pond's flora, with a twist of Youko Kurama's power, had died down, clearing the water of everything but silt.
Though they had spent the night lovemaking and sleeping in turn, Kurama had never remembered to replace the grass they'd lain on with a softer bed of moss, and now it was too late.
A butterfly mounted a nearby blossom, its white wings, each with a single brown spot like two eyes, flexing daintily open and closed. Youko was distracted by the sight, absentmindedly popping another casing into his mouth, while Kuronue rolled over yet again, restless, and watched the clouds form. Birds chipped and chirruped at the sky, at the bright sunlight of late morning.
Tonight they would ply their trade as bandits. The portal they wanted, which would lead them within scouting distance of the impregnable fortress of Kal Ad'dhun in a southwestern point of the Makai, was only a few dozen jō west.
Youko, finally deciding they'd waited long enough, yawned and slid into the water of the pond, growing soapbark from the seed of it he kept tucked away behind his ear. Kuronue joined him, both blinking at the bright sunlight, Youko tossing Kuronue some aloe and more soapbark. They didn't need to speak, comfortable with one another, bodies warm from the sun and cool from the water.
Youko was done first, shaking himself like a dog and wringing out his tail. Vines swished over his skin, twisted in his hair and over the fur of his ears until the excess water was gone. Youko Kurama stepped into his tunic. He watched Kuronue for a moment, and then began undoing the changes his power had wrought, pulling back the flowers and trees, pomegranates sinking back into the branches, leaving a few overripe fruit to hang, and several rotten fruit that had turned to saplings devolving back, until the rancid mess littering the ground returned. A murder of crows with black wings landed back on their nests, sidling and cackling in annoyance, though hardly daring to challenge the kitsune who had deposed them. The troop of monkeys who had camped here originally was smarter: they wouldn't return until well after the two demons had left.
"I'm in the mood for some meat," Kurama declared, eying the murder. The crows quieted, sensing the sudden sharpening of his interest.
"Leave them," Kuronue replied, bored. "Crows are tough things, scavengers. They taste foul."
Kurama sneered, but finished checking over his kit anyway, knowing Kuronue was right. "I've never liked them. I can't imagine why those Northwestern human tribes worship them."
"They worship death," Kuronue said, shrugging his shoulders. "What creature could be more appropriate?"
Kurama's sneer deepened. Death came, and ate away at joy. Death was in someone else's hands, the Gods', or the Reikai's, or an enemy's. Kurama had no love of death, or of people who had the weakness to seek it. Rather than reply, having finished his silent inventory, he turned to Kuronue and smirked toothily. "Help me erase our tracks?"
Kuronue grinned, cheeky. "At your service," he purred. Hefting his sickles, he did up his belts and re-wrapped his leathers while humming a Persian folk tune, watching the lilies fade and the algae build in the pond with regret.
I tend to write as much as moves me. I never match length. But I also love to have fun and watch my partners have fun, so I will be checking in with you a lot to make sure things are
Without further ado, here's my favorites to play (my specialties, you might say)!KARASU
Karasu is a demon, a crow tengu, from the animanga Yu Yu Hakusho. He has the power to create bombs of various types, and other weapons, restraints, etc., which he manifests with gunpowder and his own youki (demonic energy). He towers over most humans, has long black hair, and wears a mask. When he removes the mask and powers up his deadliest attack, his hair turns kinky and blond.
Karasu is a cruel, vain egoist with a bent for torture. If he embodied a cardinal sin, it would be lust. His sense of himself is warped and grandiose, though if you peel back enough layers you’ll find a bitter boy who learned the wrong lessons too soon. That doesn’t negate his nasty personality—on the contrary, it makes it worse that he would bully others to excise his own demons—but it does shed light on the psyche of a man who has an affinity to despair, his own and others.
A fighter and a trichophiliac of such proportions that it’s a wonder he gets anything done when he sees another man's well-kempt hair, Karasu is hardly a nice character. He’s pathetic at times, but shouldn’t be pitied for it. He’s a bully to anyone he can be.
I PLAY KARASU IN GENERAL AS A PSYCHOPATH AND A BOTTOM WHO THINKS HE'S A TOP. And trust me, turning the tables on him is very fun. My oldest and most beloved character, please do play with him!BEAST [YOUNG KARASU]
This AU character is Karasu as a wretched adolescent, dirty, enslaved and unloved.
In Karasu’s own voice:
"In the brief time we were together, my father spoiled me. He is the only person to have ever done so successfully, and the only person I have taken it from with enjoyment. He used to buy me fine silks, which I confess I have a fondness for even to this day, and dress me in sumptuous and elegant clothing, black robes with violet sashes, miniature versions of his own.
After he found me half-starved in my dungeon in mother’s brothel, I never knew hunger. We travelled the world, eking out a proud, nomadic existence. Father was always careful that I have enough to eat. That, also, was unusual to me, and I admit I never trusted him.
Perhaps I was right not to. By all accounts, my father was a cruel man, uncommonly so even within the Makai. But he was never violent to me, and those who earned his cruelty were weak, vile, and deserving of it, by all rational estimation.
The dolls. I remember those dolls. The willow dolls, Kamo; the elaborate and delicate triangles of Musha and Hina, with eyes so soulless and cruel. Three hundred years ago, before he died, he gave me a new type that wouldn’t come into use in the human world for another hundred and fifty years beyond that: porcelain dolls.
They were my favorite for years afterward, before their usage bled into Germany of the human world, and their clarity was perverted. They’re called bisque dolls in most human tongues. I always found amusement in their dull, lifeless eyes. Painted glass, those eyes, easy to chip. I found faults in them fascinating, particularly when they were manufactured by me.
I ripped out the heart of one of the children father caught for my practice, a little water kappa, whose home was - before that day, at least - a humble, lonesome village of kappa several hundred jo into a bayou. After I’d torn her heart out, I tried to put it in a doll. I wanted to capture her soul there, for she had almost escaped, and looked much like the doll, with stringy black hair and green-tinted skin.
Father was furious with me for defiling the doll. He explained to me then the idea of enemies you keep, and revere, and those you leave wasted by your wayside.
It doesn’t matter now. I haven’t had a doll in centuries.
There’ve been some who have wished to spoil me in the long years since then as I made my fortune, lovers longing to spend days bathing me in their touch. Unimaginative and boring; I’ve agreed enough times to know that to a man their feeble lovemakings cease to amuse mere hours in, and their petty desires to control me like some forty dreckle pet, growing fat from licking the cream from their fingers, wears thin on my pride.
There was a sense of being precious, with my father. There is none such with men like those.”YOUNGER TOGURO
"The only way to atone was to never be vulnerable again. Perhaps he just wanted to become the monster he already felt himself to be. Perhaps he was just afraid of loving someone. Perhaps he was just afraid of growing old. Toguro is a complex case. He’s like an anthill. The deeper you dig, the more tunnels appear, and inside each is a creature ready to bite. Layer upon layer of bravado, façades, contradicting desires and intensely-wrought obsessions. But, beneath it all, I suspect you’ll find just a normal man with a wounded heart, and a broken dream."PARENTS
Goro, 52 at age of death, a martial artist and reiki user who threw all his accomplishments away by becoming a violent drunk. He beat Toguro’s mother, Aiko, to death with a pipe when she was 43, and then went on the run. Aiko was a housewife, and had suffered her husband and her son Taro (Elder Toguro)’s abuse for years. Younger Toguro ran from that guilt for his whole life, and when he lost his students too, he lost his mind.SIBLINGS
Taro “Elder” Toguro, his second-in-command in their gang of demons.
BACK STORY In his own words:
"Father was a martial artist in our backwater hometown. He was that - he was also a drunk. Not the bumbling kind of boozer you see in movies, nose red from burst capillaries and cheerful, tries to do the right thing, caterwauls songs when the drink’s in him.
No, to me, as a boy, my father was a devil when he drank. Mean, worthless, stinking … my father was not a man, not by my estimation.
I don’t remember my mother much. To me she was a scared, mousey wisp of a woman, who Aniki hit as often as Father did.
From a few blurry recollections of when I was very young, I think she doted on me. I grew up with Pop’s physique, though, and once I got to an old enough age that it was clear I looked nothing like her, she left reality and never came back.
I fought with father constantly, always wanted him to hit me instead of her. I wanted to protect her.
My first bitter taste of failure came early. Pa beat mother to death with a pipe. Came home one day, blood everywhere and the police asking questions, dad long gone, using his reiki to run from the law. He’d initiated contact a few times in the following years. He’d tell me all about how he’d never touched a bottle since, which I knew wasn’t true because the cup of coffee he was drinking in his pathetic little hideout was spiked. You could smell the vodka.
I left that town, Aniki in tow, and we both started learning more serious martial arts. I was young, and reckless, but I had a level head. And I was good. Very, very good. I found a fight with a worthy opponent to be the only thing that brought me joy.
Father’s long dead. He got so drunk he lowered the defenses and wandered into town, raving, where he was recognized and taken away to prison. They hung him quickly. Aniki wanted to see them do it; I stopped him. Didn’t want the bastard to have any family around him when he went, just the cold, hate-filled stares of strangers.”
He fought constantly with his abusive drunk of a father, and left home at an early age with his brother after his father killed their mother. They protected each other, though Aniki was always wild and unpredictable, cruel even then. Toguro grew to prominence in martial arts, and built his dojo, his persona, from the ground up, through hard work and almost frightening amounts of focus and dedication. There, he met the young and beautiful fighter Genkai, whom he mentored, partnered with, and grew to love. He disappeared after all his students in an enemy attack. What happened between now and then? Who knows? Toguro built a new persona and a reputable gang in the black market, from the ground up and with the same dedication. He subjugated Karasu, who became prominent in the gang, and many other talented fighters like him. He met Sakyo.
The rest is history.SAKYO
This sinister gentleman grew up in a happy family, but don’t let that fool you. A pure psychopath with a bent for torture, no one’s quite sure if his attraction to his toys is genuine, or just another way to fuck with someone’s head. He undeniably makes it look good, though.
He has an addictive personality that he turns to drinking, gambling, the partaking of call girls, and occasionally drugs. Sakyo is quite vain, though not at Karasu’s level. It’s more that he’s attractive and he knows it. It’s not full-on self-adoration like Karasu, as I said before, but he’s very comfortable with the fact that he’s extremely handsome. He often uses it as a tool, actually, particularly when he’s dealing with straight women, bisexuals and gay men. He enjoys his own vanity, though he indulges it in moderation.FAMILY
Four elder brothers (Hiroshi, Hiroichi, Makoto, and Shou), all grown. Each has wives and families and white collar jobs, none of which Sakyo has any idea of. He often says if he had their lives he would kill himself. His mother and father are Kazuo (Father) and Shouko (Mother) Sakyo.
Sakyo was born into a rural, middle-class Japanese family. He showed all the early signs of psychopathy, including torturing animals in his first job after school, a pet shop, and then graduating to other humans. By the age of sixteen he was dabbling in serious gambling. By the age of nineteen he was a mafioso. By the age of twenty-five, he was already highly ranked within the organization. Not long after, he destroyed his predecessor in a violent coup, taking control of the Black Black Club. The next five years he spent consolidating his control, and at the age of thirty, he began taking out comparable rival organizations.
There are many people who would pay a great deal of money to kill Sakyo. Toguro’s Apparition Gang, however, is providing top-notch security, often in the form of Toguro himself. Sakyo is now head of the Black Black Club, the most dangerous and well-known Yakuza group in the world. He is one of the most successful and powerful mob bosses of his age, even more surprising considering his youth.
In his own words:
"I haven’t seen mom or dad in twenty years. By all accounts, their son has dropped off the map, along with the peasant name they dropped on my head.
My brothers are not protected by me. I suspect they don’t know I’m alive. I suspect further that if my true identity ever becomes known, they and their families will be in grave danger.
Again, I don’t protect them. I wouldn’t give a single yen to see them safely home. I controlled and manipulated them when I was growing up, just as often as my dear, loving, credulous parents.
From an early age I could see what people wanted, and knew how to give it to them to get back what I wanted. It’s why gambling comes so naturally to me: people’s faces and gestures, a rigged game, the high stakes … all are exhilarating to me, some of the only things that are.
My parents are tools that have far outgrown their usage to me, just as much as any hired hand. And that is as far as I ever think of them, distasteful as they are.”
In his own words:
"Despair is beautiful.
That soul-numbing, will-defeating despair, that sense of hopelessness on a slave’s face, when you’ve stripped them of everything but the desire to do your will, is beautiful.
And I am in no small way an expert in it. I am still the best demon-breaker the Black Book Club ever had, and the best gambler it’s ever known. I rose through the ranks like a flare up the fuse for a stick of dynamite, lashed to a victim’s foot.
The Black Book Club’s upper echelon is mostly destroyed now. My doing, my merry little piping. And they all followed, gaily, hedonistically, to their ruins.
It is despair in a being’s face that lets me know I’ve won, be it a billion yen game of cards or the fight for a girl’s virginity.
Gondawara is one such lamb (laughter, please) I’ve shepherded down the despairing road to slaughter. His disbelief, his horror…
Yes, despair is really one for the ages.
And I crook a grin, and tip back a shot of whiskey, giving it no more thought than that.”YOMI
Yomi is a former demon king of one third of the Makai, and blind as a bat. A one-time bandit, this goat youkai is exceptionally powerful, one of the most powerful demons of his time.Personality
Cold and calculating on the surface, deep inside he’s still the hotheaded goat he once was. Never quick to forget a slight, and occasionally jealous, he can be cruel, but also very caring, particularly with his son Shura.
In his own words:
“What I am about to say is a closely guarded secret. I was a kept-thief and a street-urchin in my youth. My parents sold me to Keeper to make a little extra money. I killed him and ran early, savoring my freedom (if not my hunger) in those long, lazy days of demonic childhood.
For sport, and as a way of controlling a population of abandoned children that were, at the time, considered vermin on the level of the rats and pigeons, gangs of demons roamed the city of my youth, murdering any wharf rats they could find. Rich shop owners and slighted noblemen offered hefty rewards for every child’s body that was brought before them, flat rates per corpse.
I was foolish then—sometimes I wonder how I survived, with my love of throwing stones at anyone who struck me as too rich and my flagrant disregard for authority.
Eventually, I disappeared into the forests of our world, the Makai, and set out to make a name and a fortune for myself.
It is truly amazing to me sometimes that with all my character defects, I succeeded.”KURAMA
Kurama is a fox—a spirit fox, gaining the powers of a demon over the millennia he's lived. He's a bizarre mix of cruel and kind, tender and harsh. His dualistic nature is enhanced by the beautiful fox-eared hottie, the Youko Kurama, who he is and is not: who he was in a former life, before he went into hiding and was wounded while thieving by a powerful enemy. He escaped to the living world, where he merged with an unborn human child. I consider him one of the richest characters in the show, and the most fun of the main cast.
Getting my Kurama in bed is like screwing a Tesla coil, by the way.MUKURO
She was enslaved, as a girl. Her own father tortured and tormented her, until she poured acid over her body, escaped, and became one of the Kings of the Makai, one of the most powerful youkai of all time. & I love her.GENRES AND PROMPTS I LOVE PARTICULARLY
-MASTER/SLAVE--NON-CONSENSUAL OF ANY KIND--HISTORICAL FICTION (AU OR CANON)--FANTASY (AU)--CANON SLICE-OF-LIFE--ACTION/ADVENTURE--SOME ROMANCE, POSSIBLY-Canon Prompts:
—Karasu/Sakyo: Silence (slave silence; silence as an erotic element in sex) - "It was a shame. With Toguro gone, and the two survivors of Team Toguro thrown back together, Sakyo never stood a chance."
—Toguro/Genkai: Cowgirl, Secrets, other (dark or criminal past; unspoken feelings) - "Toguro's past was built of secrets that even Genkai couldn't penetrate. He didn't snap all at once."
—Bui/Karasu/Kurama: Submission (obedience; submissive behaviors such as boot kissing, crawling, keeping one's eyes lowered, or kneeling for master; abasement in general) - Kurama as the submissive, Bui disapproving, and Karasu loving every second.
—Period AU - Olden Times, or just a fantasy-esque setting. Kurama is a britches-wearing farm boy, and Karasu is a pirate or a brigand or a general or whatever you see him as. The point is, he razes Kurama's town and then bangs our favorite fox in its ashes.
Kink: Flogging, caning, whipping, some form of beating after, during, or before sex. Non-con through and through, please, let's keep this simple.
—You remember how Toguro refused Sakyo's offer of booze? A postulation, then, that I'd love to see brought to life: it was because alcohol has an effect on his impulse control, and the demonic urges inside him.
Sakyo finally gets Toguro drunk, curious, and the unfortunate effects are taken out on our favorite kitsune's rear.
It could be that Toguro leaves the hotel on Hanging Neck Island and discovers him in the woods. It could be that Karasu is keeping Kurama captive, and they end up in a room together. Kurama could be walking around the hallways of the Dark Tournament, hotel or stadium, and finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could be a completely different reason, really, anything that makes sense.
The point is, I want to see Toguro rip that fox-boy apart, tear that ass up, and I want Kurama not to know what hit him. Bonus points for showing remorse after it's over.
— Frankly, this is a cliche plot, but it's the kind of cliche you just can't have enough of, and there is room to do it erotically and well.
I want to see Kurama submitting to Karasu to save someone during the Dark Tournament. Preferably, I want to see him submit again and again, over a period of time. I want to see our gorgeous, glorious little fox used and humiliated. Insults, Karasu bluntly calling Kurama names, whatever, sex while Team Urameshi is a room away and Kurama's trying desperately not to let them hear, Karasu's corrosive and insidious jealousy exacerbating Kurama's pain, and mentioning of milestones in the Dark Tournament ("Did it arouse you, Kurama? The feel of Bakken's hands on you? I know how you love to be abused.") will all get you more bonus points than you can think possible.AU Prompts
PIRATES AU — The rigging whistled with sea gales, eery still through all the layers of groaning wood between the men's quarters and the deck. Waves beat against the hull; icy fingers of sea water that felt like dread crept up his neck. He shivered, nude flesh bit by the iron manacles, tasting salt on his tongue and hating it, hating it.
He thought bitterly of his short-lived career as a corsair. Originally from the village of Bazemont, Île-de-France born and bred, he'd run from farming to the nearby city of Paris and there, been press-ganged into a crew. The French corsairs, privateers who functioned little better than pirates, had been taken in battle by their betters: real pirates. Most of the men had been killed outright.
FANTASY SLAVERY AU — Slavery is the basis of our entire economy.
VICTORIAN SIDESHOW AU
, by Liam Dale & Dashou.
VIKINGS AU — A German monk meets a rampaging viking. The rest of the story is up to you.
DRUG KINGPIN AU — Set in the background of international drug cartels, two demons meet and form an unlikely, if forced relationshipPAIRINGS PREFERENCES, FOR THOSE CURIOUS AND FAMILIAR WITH THE CANON
- INTER-TEAM TOGURO SCREWING
- ANY BOTTOM KURAMA
But in all honesty there is only one thing I don't ship in the entire series: Kurama/Hiei.