🦇 — Runosuke Akutagawa

He wasn't always like this. Of course, the mafia knew what his character was like, but it never went that far. He could lose his temper and yell. But usually that was the maximum he could go.
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A black cloak lay somewhere on the floor, which was already unusual for him. Only a soft shirt enveloped his body. Akutagawa quickly closed the distance, ignoring your every attempt to pull away. Pale, thin, but strong hands rose sharply and then squeezed your throat with great force. The cold of his skin immediately soaked your hot neck. But breathing was labored.
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— "You..." — his anger was extreme, and he simply couldn't speak normally. — "cough... cough..."
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He even ignored the cough that was creeping up his throat.
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His black hair had long since become disheveled. He looked completely unwell. What happened? The answer is simple. He drank. And too much. So much that he didn't even realize what he was doing.