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sister-lucifer · 3 months

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A Bullet in the Chamber

Proxies (Hoodie, Masky, Toby) x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Horror/Dark Angst

Summary: They want you to prove your love, to prove that you truly believe you’re meant to be together…with the help of Tim’s revolver, of course.

Content/Warnings: God, where do I start…obviously massive use of a gun, they play russian roulette, descriptions of gore, the proxies are super manipulative and emotionally abusive to reader, just a super obsessive not healthy relationship, this is NOT a feel good fic, it’s implied reader is being held captive

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

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Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

“We just wanna…play a little game with you, that’s all,” Tim drawls, his voice deep and lazy as he looks at you from behind his mask.

You’re nervous suddenly. Unbearably nervous. A cold chill runs throughout your body and makes your stomach convulse in an agonizing manner, and you don’t know if you’re going to vomit or pass out first. You don’t know why. He’s only just started speaking. Maybe it’s the way he drew out the last part of that sentence, or the way he immediately tried to soothe you before you’ve even fully understood what’s going on, or just that look in his eyes that says ‘I want to fucking gut you.’

There’s a reason you learned to keep your guard up around these three.

Suddenly the little circle you’re all sitting in on the floor feels much, much tighter than is comfortable, and it doesn’t help that Toby slides in closer, bumping your shoulder with his and flashing you a knowing smirk. What exactly he knows, though, is a horrific enigma to you.

Brian is on your other side, and although he doesn’t move, for a split second he glances at you out of the corner of his eye before his gaze returns to Tim. He’s managing to hold a straight face, but you can see the corners of his mouth just barely twitching as he internally fights to keep the emotion bubbling beneath the surface at bay.

There’s silence for a few moments, you’re not sure how long, but you don’t realize they’re waiting for you to speak until Toby nudges you.

“I, uh…what, um— what kind of game…?” You stammer, immediately regretting your question despite the curiosity that’s gnawing at you like a starving animal. You shudder when Toby giggles, clearly trying to stifle the sound as he bumps your shoulder again.

Tim thinks over his answer for a moment, scratching at his stubble in a manner that is far too casual. You think he’s going to speak, you’re expecting it, but he doesn’t say anything at first beyond a tired sounding sigh. Your eyes are locked onto his hand as it reaches behind him, and when it emerges once more it’s holding onto the grip of Tim’s revolver.

“There’s one bullet in the chamber.”

The world is spinning suddenly as you watch him place the weapon on the ground, and the sound of it sliding across the floor to you makes you sick. You bite back a gag as it slows to a stop in front of you. Your mouth hangs open uselessly as you struggle for words, desperate to pull out some sort of protest to what you know he wants but no sound comes.

They watch you grapple with yourself for a few moments before Brian places a hand on your knee. It’s supposed to be a comforting gesture, and normally it would be, but now it feels like a threat.

“Hey, don’t freak out so soon,” He says, lips curled into a subtle smirk, “We did this all the time when we were younger, it’s practically a rite of passage.”

Unsurprisingly, this does little to quell your fears. You’re shaking now, unable to wrap your mind around how they could be acting so nonchalant about putting your lives on the line like this.

“Listen,” Tim huffs, “I’m gonna be straight with ya, kid. We know how you’ve been feeling recently.”

That hardly narrows it down. You’ve been feeling a lot of things recently, none of it good and all of it confusing. That’s just the sort of conflict born from this kind of captivity. You shrug, unsure what to say.

“We know you w-wanna leave,” Toby clarifies, “I saw you staring out t-the window the other day…you just s-sat there for hours.”

That…made you feel a bit guilty. You shouldn’t, but you do. You could’ve at least made it less obvious.

“We trust you, hon,” Brian adds with a nod, “But we also think we could all use a little…what did you call it?”

He turns to Tim, who yawns before answering.

“…Group bonding.”

You shudder at the phrase. Disgusting.

“I…I don’t think this is the best way to…t-to do that,” You murmur, but your words hold no weight when you can’t even look them in the eyes. You’d never take the risk of making any sort of real fuss anyways.

Tim shrugs, seeming to consider your words.

“How would you do it, then?”

You…don’t have an answer for that. Why don’t you have an answer for that?

“I-I don’t know, I mean…can’t we just have awkward group sex like other, uh…groups, or whatever?” You ask, hesitating to call your dynamic any sort of relationship.

You make sure to tack on a nervous laugh at the end to make it seem lighthearted, but no one is amused. Toby giggles, but he’s laughing at you, and it’s painfully obvious.

“Don’t stress about it,” Tim says, “Just think of it as a…a test, you know?”

He sighs when you shake your head no.

“Ya know, like…a way of proving yourself. I mean, you trust us, right?”

You hesitate to answer that, but nod quickly when Tim narrows his eyes at you.

“Good. Well, think of it this way: if we all survive this, it’s a sign that we’re…meant to be together.”

“There has to be a better way—“ You blurt out before you can stop yourself, and Brian instantly takes to calming you.

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. His other hand comes up to your face, holding your head against his shoulder.

“Calm down, baby,” He says softly, “Don’t jump ship so fast. I told you, we’ve all done this before. We’ll even go first to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of, alright?”

He’s not really giving you a choice.

You nod.

Maybe you’ll be able to just get this over with. If you sit here for much longer, you’re gonna be sick.

Toby reaches out to grab the gun first. That doesn’t surprise you at all. He’s never been one for forethought, or common sense in general. One day his hubris will get him killed, you think, but for once you’re hoping it won’t be today.

Not today.

Not here.

Not right in front of you.

Brian doesn’t let you go, continuing to hold you against him as Toby makes a show of spinning the chamber, letting it run until it stops on its own. He giggles with deranged amusement as he presses the end of the barrel to the bottom of his chin, looking back at Tim with a crooked grin.

There’s silent for a few moments, and you can’t look away from him until you follow his gaze to Tim, who is staring back with furrowed brows.

He’s still for a beat, and then he nods.

A signal.

Go.

You have a split second to process Toby preparing to pull the trigger before you bury your face in Brian’s hoodie and he, in turn, covers your face with his hand and squeezes you tight. It’s hardly comforting, but it’s better than nothing.

The soft click of the trigger seems to echo endlessly in the silence that follows.

Silence.

You quickly look back up and are immediately met with Toby’s hazel eyes looking back at you, their corners crinkled with the wide smile that’s spread across his pale face.

“Lookie there,” He drawls with a laugh, “This h-handsome face is still in tact.”

“Hardly the better outcome,” Tim mutters with a roll of his eyes.

This prompts Toby to slide the gun to him next, crossing his arms in feigned hurt.

“You go n-next then, wise guy. If you blow y-your brains out, at least we’ll know you h-had one.”

“Shut up,” Tim hisses back as he, too, brings his hand up to spin the chamber of the revolver. You’re still trying to catch your breath. You didn’t think they’d be so eager.

You’re gripping onto Brian’s hoodie so tightly your knuckles burn as you watch Tim press the barrel of the gun to his jaw, angling it upwards toward the dome of his skull.

He’s not nearly as giddy as Toby. He’s straight faced and silent, which isn’t odd, but something in his eyes is darker than you ever remember it being. You can only see his eyes with his mask on, yet you know his expression exactly. He’s staring right at you, and you’re imagining his brains dashed against the wall behind him, his face and any identifying features that once made him human reduced to a splatter of viscera that barely resembles the pieces of a person.

And when it’s all over, you think, you’ll surely be the one left to clean the mess of what used to be Tim. You’ll be left to scrub the red stains from the floorboards while the others continue on as if nothing has happened, and suddenly you can’t breathe.

The world stills as once more the trigger is pulled with a click.

Then relief hits you like a shockwave when that click is followed by silence.

Silence.

Your lungs fill faster than you were ready for, and you cough and sputter as your chest heaves with newfound breath. Brian rubs your shoulder gently, his other hand reaching out to grab the revolver as Tim slides it to him. The gun is exchanged without a word, only piercing eye contact as Brian lifts the weapon and spins the chamber, just as his companions had done before him.

It seems so natural for all of them. In the half a second it takes for Brian to lift the gun you wonder how many times they’ve done this, if you’re the first person to witness this ritual, and if not, what happened to those who came before you.

You don’t find any hope of getting answers, though, as you watch Brian press the barrel to the side of his head. He gives you a squeeze, and you can’t tell if he’s assuring you or saying goodbye just in case.

You still haven’t released his hoodie despite the throbbing pain in your fingers. You’re barely a thread away from tearing out a patch, but you can’t let go. You don’t look at him this time, unable to pull your head away from where it rests on his shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze like you’re trying to crush him, but he only lets out a breathy chuckle and ruffles your hair in response as if he’s amused by your terror. You’re a scared kid to him, a foolish little child running from an imaginary monster despite the very real threat.

You can hear his hoodie shifting as he adjusts the position of the gun. You can hear the slight scratching against his hair as the barrel moves against his head. You can hear him suck in a quick breath as he readies himself to pull the trigger.

You hear the click.

And then silence.

Silence.

You’ve never been so grateful for silence.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Toby claps and laughs loudly, practically howling with wildly misplaced celebration. He shakes you in his excitement, unable to get any intelligible words out through his giggling.

“Shhh,” Brian says with a finger to his lips, “We’re not done yet.”

He’s right. Goddamnit, he’s right. Not everyone has played yet. You were hoping that maybe just this once the higher being that trapped you in this hell would have this minuscule mercy on you, but you were met with a resounding no.

Brian places the gun on the floor in front of you. You can’t hear the sound of the metal gently knocking against the wood floor, but it makes you feel ice cold. Your world is rapidly going dark as you struggle to make yourself breathe.

You can feel the others’ eyes on you, three pairs of eyes staring right at you and boring a hole through your skull that’ll surely be identical to the one the bullet will leave. Maybe they’re imagining it, too.

It seems you’re not moving fast enough for them.

Toby reaches out and grabs your wrist a bit too roughly, forcefully placing your hand on the gun. You wince like you expect it to burn, but you’re left with only the cruel sensation of metal on your palm.

You weakly curl your fingers around the grip of the gun. It feels impossibly heavy as you lift it, trembling like a leaf in the wind. You force your other hand up, placing two fingers on the chamber of the revolver as you prepare to spin it.

You press the pads of your fingers against the metal, pushing down in an attempt to spin, but the gun slips from your shaking hands and clatters to the floor. You yelp in surprise and clamp your hands over your mouth, tears suddenly forming in your eyes but refusing to flow over.

Brian sighs. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just disappointed. He picks up the gun, and you think that maybe, just maybe he’s going to let you out, grant you some small reprieve and tell you you don’t have to do this.

Instead he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you close, and his other hand presses the barrel of the gun right to your head.

“I’ll do it for you,” He says, as if it’s nothing serious. Like he’s just grabbing a box off a high shelf to be nice.

You feel like he’s strangling you. He might as well be. It would be a more humane death.

He’s going to kill you, you think, you’re going to die in this godforsaken house with these bastards, you’re going to die in isolation with no one to honor your body.

They’ve sentenced you to death.

You think back to that question of how many have come before you. Is this what they thought about, too? Is this the first, third or twentieth time someone like you has been here? How many unfortunate circumstances have stained the floorboards red over the years this cabin has stood?

It doesn’t matter.

None of that matters.

You’re going to be the next.

That’s all there is for you to be now.

A stain of red on the old wood floors will be your only legacy.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you look up at Brian. His expression doesn’t move an inch. There’s no trace of the humor he always seems to have, not even a hint of feigned compassion or sympathy for your position. He’s not letting you out of this. None of them are.

You reach down and grab Brian’s hand where it rests in your hip, your nails digging into his knuckles. He doesn’t react. He doesn’t even move beyond adjusting his finger to pull the trigger.

Each second seems to go on for an eternity, yet at the same time everything is moving far too fast. You can’t process what’s happening but you just want it over with, that’s your only choice.

He’s lifting his finger, preparing to bring it down on the trigger.

He’s pressing the barrel of the gun into your skin just a bit harder as he readies himself for whatever happens next.

This is it.

This is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is…

The trigger clicks.

Then there’s silence.

…it.

Silence.

And then Toby erupts with animalistic, ecstatic laughter. It rings in your ears and echoes around your skull in an almost painful manner. You can’t stand the sound.

You’re alive.

The game is over.

All at once relief floods your body in such an overwhelming manner your vision goes dark. You can’t speak a word before you’ve gone limp in Brian’s arms, and he barely has time to put the revolver down and catch you. He holds you in his arms and makes a half hearted attempt to wake you, but when you don’t respond he looks up at Tim with a smirk.

“Out like a light.”

Tim can’t help but chuckle, and for a moment it’s even a full on laugh. This only encourages Toby, who’s flopped over onto his back as his body writhes with mirth.

Brian groans as he stands, pulling your body up with him. He throws you over his shoulder and nods to the others.

“I’m taking this one up stairs, gonna put ‘em to bed. I’m sure they’ll be whiny when they wake up, and you two better deal with it.”

Tim and Toby nod and wave him away. Toby’s finally stopped laughing enough to pull himself off the floor as Tim picks up the revolver. He shoves it into Toby’s chest, nearly pushing him over.

“Go put it up,” Tim orders.

“Or what?” Toby teases as he takes the gun, “You g-gonna get mad ‘cause I won’t clean up y-your toys?”

“Just do it,” Tim demands with a growl, clearly not amused. Toby rolls his eyes and huffs like a defiant child, but nods.

Tim starts to walk away, headed upstairs to his own room, but he pauses on the first step and turns to Toby.

“Oh, and don’t forget to load it,” He adds, “If it’s empty the next time I need it, I’m gonna kill you.”

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androgynealienfemme · 9 months

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""You cannot piss in a cup or pull a sword from a stone or anything else in order to tell if you're trans or not. You are if you want to be. You're not if you don't."

This is what I say. No one listens.

"Look. I define transgendered literally; it's a way of crossing. Crossing into a different gender. Not the opposite, there are so many, just a different one. Or crossing out of the gender that theoretically goes, in that there heterosexual matrix we keep talking about, with your biological sex.

"Being a transsexual is a different animal. That's a matter of medical things or the intention of medical things, changing your sex you know? The sex parts: genitals, reproductive organs, hormones, secondary sexual characteristics. Or living full-time as a person of a certain culturally aligned sex and gender, whether you do medical things or not, because some people can't and it isn't fair to punish that. So them, too. But transgendered is wide open. And butch is a nonnormative gender yes? We can agree on that, anyway? So if you want to claim transgendered, great as far as I'm concerned."

People sign at me. They roll their eyes, They shake their heads. They want me to make ruling, they want me to tell them if they can call themselves transgendered, or alternative if they can still call themselves butch. As though I somehow have the power to confer or deny whatever label they want, or as though I can be relied upon to make an impartial decision int he case of an argument, whether it is internal or among individuals."

"Border Wars” Butch is a Noun essays by S. Bear Bergman (2006)

#butch is a noun #s. bear bergman #butch #lesbian #transgender #transmasculine #transmasculinity #lesbian lit #butch lit #trans lit #transgender lit #lgbt #lgbtq+#queer lit

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sapphsorrows · 4 months

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"people only pick on trans people because they're easy targets" yeah no shit they're easy targets just like flat earthers and antivaxxers. what they believe is absolutely fucking insane when you think about it for more than 2 seconds.

the idea of trans is no different from the idea of predestination.

predestination says only those who have been chosen by god will be saved and will go to heaven. how do you know you're predestined? there is literally no way to tell externally. there is no test you take to make sure you're predestined. you just have to put your faith in jesus and know, internally, in your heart, or whatever. funny how literally everyone who believes this also happens to be one of the ~chosen ones~.

the idea of being trans is that some people are born in the wrong body. how do you know you're born in the wrong body? there is literally no external way to tell, aside from maybe a few "am I trans?" quizlets (which as we all know are 100% accurate always and only made by professionals and not 12 year old furries). you just look inside, or whatever, and somehow "know" or you decide for yourself. then, based on your own self-reporting, which you have no way to externally verify, you expect people to bend to your will and you expect society to give you special privileges that no one else gets. no other man gets to pee in the ladies' or compete in women's sports but once you self-id as trans? well, right this way "ma'am", pay no mind to the women cowering in fear of you. their rights don't matter nearly as much as your feelings. funny how damn near everyone who believes in this also happens to be trans themselves, will a few outliers.

even "gender critical" transes like mr. blaire white and ms. buck angel will talk in hours upon hours of videos about the importance of gatekeeping and protecting women's spaces, yet /they/ demand the exact same privileges as every other "fake" (in their words) trans person on tiktok. do you seriously think "fake" trans people are going to listen to you and suddenly not go into the women's? No! are you fucking kidding me? it's so much easier to tell a buck or a blaire to fuck off than it is to a delusional fetishist who will 100% either hurt you or make a scene. there is no "true trans" because EVERYONE claims to be truly trans, everyone from bruce jenner to the "IT IS MA'AM" gamestop dude.

it fucking baffles me how youtube skeptics - people i used to admire, people who taught me how to think critically about shit - will spend all damn day dunking on flat earthers and creationists but will turn a blind eye to the trans cray and will even go as far as to support them. they think they're so above it all and they can't be fooled, but they have been, and I keep waiting for them to snap out of it - just like I waited for my own family to snap out of christianity - but they haven't.

if you seriously think a dress and some hormones and plastic surgery will make a man into a woman, you're insane, and you're no more crazy than a youtuber who thinks antarctica is an ice wall or a pastor who still prays to his "sky daddy". you have no right to make fun of these people for the insane shit they believe when you believe in this nonsense. you are quite literally the pot calling the kettle black.

and if you're one of those people who's like "oh well i know they're not actually women i just call them that to avoid hurting their feelings" im sorry but you're still in this cult, you're physically in but mentally out and the only way to really get out is to call a spade a spade, admit the emperor has no clothes, admit you were fooled just like me - just like all of us - and speak out against it.

#trans cult #gender critical #peak trans

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tripleyeeet · 5 months

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EASY DAYS AHEAD

SUMMARY: Astarion's not used to feeling cared for. Luckily though, you're as caring as they come.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,925

WARNINGS: Astarion's POV, 18+ sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), body worship if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, consent is incredibly sexy. That's all I gotta say. Also that I'm pretty sure I was possessed by something because I wrote this in literally an hour and a half???

MASTERLIST

Astarion doesn’t deserve the care that goes into loving him. With nothing more to offer than a broken mind wrapped in precious, tainted silk, it’s hard to wrap his head around the tenderness. Specifically the feeling of your skin, trailing patterns down his spine —painting fresh images over the scars that line his back as you praise him for his efforts.

Your voice sounds wrong in his ears. Every word distorting. All the syllables jumbling up in ways that make him narrow his eyes, staring through the darkness of the tent at nothing in particular.

“You okay?” you ask, and even now, weeks after your first night spent together, he has to muster up everything he’s got not to break down in front of you.

“I’m fine, darling.”

His lips always pull in that liar’s grin, ripping through his face like knives. Slicing the inside of his cheeks each time his fangs bite down on the wet flesh inside.

He has to force himself to look at you. To stare at the exhausted smile that slowly shifts to a frown, showcasing your insight. How you know he’s lying before he can even elaborate on why he’s fine or how you shouldn’t worry about him —he’s a creature of the night after all.

Pressing fully against him, he hears you click your tongue and shake your head as if scolding him. “What do you need?”

Each time you pose that same question he feels like dying. Despite the fact his heart no longer works like yours —despite the act of breathing being nothing more than a habit he’s carried over from his deathbed— there’s a dread that coats his chest. Like oil, thick and slick, it completely drowns his organs. Suffocating his body while his mind and soul fight over what comes next.

As the internal argument grows, his eyes always dart back and forth. One moment they’re locked onto your face, obsessively viewing each section and the next they’re anywhere but. In the forest, on the battlefield, back home tucked tightly inside the palm of his master’s hand —each night he travels everywhere, lingering in certain places while speeding through others, praying to all the Gods that never listened that he’ll make his way back to you. That just this once, instead of drifting off to sea, they’ll grant him the anchor he so desperately craves. The one that’s tethered to you and the solid ground beneath.

“You still there, handsome?”

He is —sort of— depending on the moment, but instead of saying that he merely hums. Offering the bare minimum to the only person he’s ever met deserving of more.

“Tired?”

“Incredibly.”

You push your chest against his back and grip his shoulder, allowing your fingers to tighten around as you maneuver your lips to his cheek. “You should rest then,” you tell him afterward, but like always the words get pushed together. Morphing into something else entirely, causing him to narrow his eyes.

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he teases, watching you roll your eyes —feeling your nails tentatively dig into his flesh as a warning.

“Shush. Don’t make me shove a sleeping potion down your throat.”

In response, he lets out a humorous huff. Then, his hands move to snake around your waist, pulling you on top of him. “Go ahead. I’m sure Gale would thoroughly enjoy such misuse of his wares.”

“My wares,” you correct, pressing an annoyed kiss to his chest, making sure to catch his skin between your teeth in the process as a warning. “I bought them from him fair and square.”

Immediately, he grabs your chin and raises his brow. “Why the hells would you need a potion of sleep anyway? You already sleep like a corpse.”

You merely look away with a smile. All while rolling your eyes in that way that makes him feel like he’s young again. Freshly born into a world that hadn’t yet chewed and spat him out. One where the veins beneath his skin are full of warm blood, pumping through his system, fuelling the desire he knows he should have now that you’re lying against him, flesh against flesh. Beating heart against—

Your lips press against his sternum and he swears they’re the most tender things he’s ever felt. Next to the way your fingers always seem to lace in his when you’re sitting by the campfire, they’re softer than any touch he’s ever experienced. Hungry yet restrained for his benefit, knowing it’s hard to feel like this. To experience the kindness of a pair of lips, worshipping a slab of skin so undeserving of such care.

Each time your mouth makes contact, your eyes are always on him, asking for permission. Begging for consent. He’s never told you this but it’s the most selfless thing he’s ever experienced. Despite it’s obvious subtly, that look you give each time your mouth can’t help itself or your hands grow a bit too greedy, means more to him than life itself. More than power or revenge. More than freedom. Because that look requires worth. Value. An offering of submission he’s long since memorized.

Each time it’s given to him, he has to compose himself. Otherwise, he might just shatter entirely —fall to the floor in a hundred tiny pieces not even you may be willing to put in the effort to fix.

Swallowing hard, he has to stare intently at your face, taking in the way you look up at him through your lashes. How you arch your brow just slightly upward, asking for forgiveness. Atoning for your sins in the form of restraint until he eventually nods, hearing your voice.

You always ask out loud to make sure. An act that only further fuels his desire to feel you wrapped around him. To experience the warmth of your flesh tenderly pressing against the iciness of his.

“Go ahead, darling,” he tells you, and for once, he means it. Truly.

Instead of pretending like he wants this for the sake of a game, he accepts you in full. Watching you genuinely grin as you lean up to capture his lips, savouring the taste of his approval. Consuming the sound that absentmindedly passes through his lips as your hand lingers down, drifting past his chest and stomach until you’re pulling away to breathe.

He can feel his mouth swell with need. The rest of his body following suit as you begin to descend, touching and kissing and biting —putting him through every sensation he’s gifted so many others.

Leaning up to watch you work, he can see the excitement in your face each time he accidentally twitches beneath you. How the edges of your eyes crinkle with anticipation the moment you find yourself tucked between his legs, looming over him with heavy hands and breaths.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him then, and for once it means something.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats back, and for once it isn’t a lie. In fact, it’s the most honest he’s ever been, and secretly that scares him. So much so that he has to look down to see if you’re still there.

Hoping that the sudden sincerity in his voice hasn’t scared you away, he can’t help but focus on the curve of your spine. How it starts low; your chest slightly leaning against one of his inner thighs.

Somehow despite the precarious position, you look perfect. Like a piece of art so carefully made, he can’t help but reach down and touch, revelling in the way you shudder beneath him. Sighing at the sudden desperation that erupts when you pull at the fabric against his waist.

“Greedy, are we?” he jokes.

Shooting him an embarrassed look, your hands continue to work his underwear down his legs —ignoring the way they catch at his knees and ankles. “I just really want to make you feel good.”

The way you speak sends him over the precipice of ruin. Even before you discard the cloth and wrap your hand around the head of his cock, he’s already done for. Lost to the feeling of your digits. Fully enraptured by the heat of your breath as you lean forward and take him between your lips, coating him in spit. He has to close his eyes despite wanting nothing more than to look at you. Feeling the way your cheeks hollow out against him, he can already imagine the expressions of your efforts. All the time and care put in as you stroke him gently, maintaining the slowest pace he’s sure he’s ever experienced.

It drives him mad with need. Bucking upwards each time your tongue drags across the tip, he instantly feels you push back. With a firm hand, you grip his hip and dig the pads into his flesh as yet another warning, telling him to behave. To just sit back and savour the pleasures he’s deserved rather than rushing through.

He isn’t used to enjoying this. More often than not feeling like nothing more than a body designated for others enjoyment, he isn’t entirely sure how to properly relish your efforts. Or at least, in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Because he could do what you’re supposed to in this situation: touch you, moan for you, utter sweet nothings in your ear to further spur you on. He could do one of them or all of them, perhaps a mixture of two and still, it wouldn’t be enough to fully showcase the weight that fills his chest each time your mouth bobs up and down. How, as you begin to push him further and further into your mouth until he’s grazing the back of your throat, everything you do feels like the greatest gift he’s ever received. How maddening it is to feel loved like this even when he’s at his most unloveable.

Because that’s what you do to him. With the simplest of touches, you make him feel like him again. Like his mind hasn’t been shattered by the repeated slams of a sinner’s hand. As if his skin, etched by the knife of that same bastard, isn’t scarred. That instead it’s merely just skin. A grouping of muscle and tissue wrapping around his bones —a simple casing of flesh meant to be licked and sucked and pumped for all it’s worth until he’s gasping for air and uncontrollably shaking.

And sometimes he feels like he’s earned it. During the easy days when he’s able to forget about his past and instead focus on the beauty that’s pressed against his leg, continuing to suck the come from his orgasm, it’s as if he’s on top of the world. Standing on a pillar of his past self’s hopes and dreams, he can easily look down at you with pride. Reaching down to touch your temple, he can feel the haze of your affections in full. The tremors of your possessive lips slowly slipping off, granting him a slick-coated smile that makes him almost faint.

During those days he can smile back and pull you up into his chest, ignoring the ache between his thighs in your absence. Opting to hold you close.

“Was that okay?” he hears you ask, and despite the question seeming almost juvenile, all he does is kiss your face. Starting at your forehead before moving to your nose and cheeks —eventually ending on your lips, he answers the question the only way he can. By showing you that, thanks to the care you foolishly offer, the days really are getting easier.

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in comments)

#easy days ahead #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x reader #summer writes

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thefemalejoker42069 · 3 days

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If I could get activists to listen to us about one single thing and nothing else, I would ask them to consider just how many of us perfectly fit the definition of “trans kid” when we were children. I would ask them to listen to those of us who, after getting help with body issues, internalized homophobia and sexual trauma, are now comfortable with the sex we were born as and wouldn’t be happy had we transitioned.

when gender non-conforming people say that we 100% would have believed we were supposed to transition if this movement would have been as big as it is now when we were kids, we fucking mean it. we’re not being dramatic or doing it to make you look bad. it does not come from a place of hatred, it doesn’t come from a place of wanting to deny you your right to bodily autonomy, it doesn’t come from the same place that homophobes come from when they say they think same sex attracted people are broken and should be subjected to electroshock therapy.

it comes from a place of genuine concern, it comes from seeing children and vulnerable young adults who remind us of ourselves being called “trans eggs waiting to crack,” medically transitioning, and then being blamed and ostracized for not knowing it wasn’t the right decision when that path ended up being wrong for them.

if you really want to do right by gay, lesbian, and gender non-conforming kids then you should listen to gay, lesbian, and gender non-conforming adults even if it challenges your worldview. we have the hindsight to know what we needed when we were children, and for most of us, the last thing we would have needed is to be told we’re actually the opposite sex and sold DIY hrt online by random adults.

you can hate our guts and keep sending us graphic murder threats if you want but truthfully the movement you’ve created is full of too much misogyny, too much homophobia, too many hurt people, too many contradictions, and too many unanswered questions to be sustainable. gender abolitionism is the only way forward.

#radblr rant post #radblr

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bel1ewrites · 5 days

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Good Luck, Babe! (Sam Carpenter x Reader)

a/n: Long time no see......... Originally this was a Wanda Maximoff fanfic, but I needed Sam in a tank top again. ps. listen to Good Luck, Babe! by Chapell Roan if you want to understand this more or watch Stardew valley female farmer x Haley edits.

Description: You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: Bar bathroom sex, bottom!reader, top!Sam, farmer!Sam, internalized homophobia, brief kissing of men :(, angst, mentions of alcohol

IT was getting difficult to keep track of the number of shots you’d gone through, each one drowning out your regrets more than the last. The bar was stuffy. It was full of sweaty bodies and slurred words, Friday night drawing most people from town to wind down from a week full of work. It was always a risk coming here, you knew that.

She frequented this bar, sipped on whiskey and laughed lightly with the other farmers at the bartop. But you didn’t care. Besides, you weren’t there for her! You weren’t. You were there to find a new boy to distract yourself with, to spend the night next to.

The martini you’d ordered sat untouched in front of you, taunting you quietly as if reading your thoughts.

“Hey there pretty lady,” a voice called from behind you, raised slightly so that you could hear him over the chatter.

You turned on your stool, eyes met with a man. They all looked the same to you: like, well, men. This one had glasses, which was a good thing you’d supposed. He was handsome enough. His hair was dark, near black, and slicked back with a thick layer of gel. The thought of running your hands through the sticky mess made your stomach churn. Not because you didn’t like man hair! You just didn’t like gel, which was a valid reason that had nothing to do with his gender.

Running a hand through your hair, you put on your best smile and lowered your eyelids -a trick as old as time-. “Hi,” you said sweetly, offering him your name. His eyes lit up, beer hanging comfortably in his hand.

The background noise grew louder, hoots coming from a number of men somewhere behind you. A mixture of, “Took you long enough!”s and “Look who decided to show up!”s grabbing your attention. You brushed it off, stayed facing away from the ruckus and tried to focus on gel boy’s words.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said smoothly, eyes running down your figure. “I’m Har-”

“Alright boys enough!” a familiar voice shot out through the room, rasped syllables filling your ears and sending shivers up your spine. You didn’t turn around, wouldn’t. Your feet stayed planted as her laugh sparked your body to life.

You thought long and hard. Thought about what to do, where to go. You should stay, there was no reason to leave. And anyways, the night was far from over. The clock behind -Harley? Hardy?- the man read half past nine. No, you would stay and have fun with Har-what’s-it and you would go home with him if he asked and you wouldn’t think about a certain farmer with black hair and impressively skilled forearms. Forearms that were sculpted from lifting and plowing and planting. Forearms that you wanted to watch move as her hands found their way-

“Um, hello?” Har-gel asked, scratching his neck with his free hand. His cheeks were tinged with a slight pink. He seemed like a sweet guy, one who would marry a sweet girl and have babies with her. A girl who wasn’t you.

You grasped the collar of his shirt, pulled him down towards you with your back pressed against the bartop. “Can we makeout?” you asked, eyes flicking down to his parted lips. They were chapped a little. You looked away from them.

He didn’t hesitate, just placed his beer on the surface behind you and boxed you in with his arms, hips pressing to yours as he moved closer between your legs.

The kiss was fine. It tasted like beer and the stubble on his chin poked yours painfully. It was fine, his tongue was in your mouth and like, that was fine you guessed. He was respectful with it, hands not venturing from their spot behind you. You waited, kissed back, went to run a hand through his hair and thought better of it. You waited some more.

After what seemed like an eon, he pulled back. His cheeks were bright red and his glasses were foggy, lips a little swollen as his breath rushed out from them. You didn’t feel much of anything besides indifference. There was a pit in your stomach, one that you ignored entirely. It was probably something everyone experienced when they kissed a man, one that was meant to be pushed aside.

“Wanna get out of here?” Har-don asked, gazing down at you with a look that was definitely meant to be attractive, and probably would’ve been if not for the shots in your system.

“Yeah!” you said, smile painfully forced, “Just let me go use the restroom really quick.” he backed up as you went to stand, digging through your purse and setting two twenties down next to your drink.

Your legs carried you to the women's room, hands fussing with the tangles he’d made in your hair. The dress you wore was one of your favorites, one that screamed summer. It was the perfect length for going out, not too short but not too long. It flowed around you as you pushed the bathroom door open, sighing with relief when you realized you were alone.

When you met your eyes in the mirror, you couldn’t help but look away. You were ashamed, you felt like a fraud. The pit in your stomach grew, so you washed your hands to distract yourself. The water was cold as it rushed out of the faucet, soothing your overheated body and disarrayed mind while you watched it hit your skin. You stood there with your hands under the water for longer than normal, not even glancing up when the door opened.

Briefly, the sounds of the bar flooded the bathroom, fading as the door swung shut. Subconsciously you reached out, pushed on the soap dispenser and watched the foam fall into your dripping hand. You just needed a minute before you went back to the sweet man with the glasses, a second to collect yourself.

“Got a lot on your mind?” a woman asked from behind you. Well, not just a woman. The woman.

The woman who you shared your secrets with, who held you when you cried and listened to you say things like, “it's just not the way I am, Sam,” after the two of you got done fucking. She was the woman who made you believe in love, who showed you how colorful the world could be.

Her hair was pulled back, a few stray pieces falling messily around her face. It was still dark, but the summer sun had brightened it up a little bit. She was clad in her work clothes, tank top tucked into her jeans, boots laced perfectly. It was easy to tell what she’d been up to the past few months, her toned arms and tanned skin hinting at long days spent on the farm. You forced your eyes away from her figure in the mirror, looking back at your hands in the water.

“Nope,” you sighed, turning the water off and drying your hands. “Just freshening up.”

She huffed out a laugh, crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t blame you,” she admitted. “I’d wash my hands after that little show too.”

You couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your cheeks, movement halting momentarily, hands frozen in brown paper towels. You hadn’t meant for her to see that, not consciously at least. You just needed to distract yourself, just needed a minute to focus on something other than her.

“If you came in here to slut shame me, I’m not in the mood,” your voice was cold, eyes catching hers in the mirror. You still hadn’t turned to face her. You couldn’t

Her brows pinched together, lips parting to say something before shutting again. Her tongue darted out the wet them. She took a step closer. “I didn’t mean- well, I did, but I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, “not like I care.” You shoved the paper towels into the trash can next to you and leaned into the mirror, running a finger under your lip to fix the smudges there. The reminder of the feeling of stubble against your chin made your stomach churn, but your face remained impassive.

You can hear Sam groan from behind you, probably pinching the bridge of her nose between her pointer and thumb. “I hate when you say that.”

“Say what?”

She took another step closer, the sound of her boots hitting the floor sending shocks to your system. “That you don’t care.”

You stayed quiet, looked at yourself in the mirror. You saw a girl, a fraud, a liar. You saw your future flash in front of you, an unhappy marriage, nothing more than some man’s wife.

She was right behind you now, close enough that you could feel her presence like a promise. She put her hand on the counter, leaned forward until you could see her face in the peripheral.

“Look at me.” she pleaded lowly, desperation in her tone. It was impossible to keep your eyes from meeting hers. She stood behind you, arms at her sides and gaze burning into you. Her body pressed into you as you leaned away from the mirror, her hands falling to your waist. “Tell me you want me to go,” she sighed, burying her face in your neck and inhaling. You couldn’t help but fall further into her.

You said nothing, your own hands moving to grasp at hers and drag them up your body until she was hugging you from behind, breathing you in and squeezing.

“Tell me to leave,” her voice was muffled in your neck, lips moving against your skin as she placed kisses there like last resorts.

You shook your head, lashes fluttering as you gave into the feeling of her again. Her eyes met yours in the mirror, hands squeezing your flesh. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you when she bit you softly, teeth digging into your jugular.

“Say you want this,” she spoke the sentence like a prayer.

You couldn’t manage the words.

“Tell me you want me,” She ordered, voice hard. Her breathing was heavy, you could feel her hands shake slightly from where they were pressed into you. “Say it or I’ll leave right now. I swear, I’ll leave and pretend you never existed.” The words were sharp and final.

All you could manage was a nod, brows drawn together in want. She moved, taking her face out of your neck and towering over you, though your height differences weren’t drastic. Her hands skated down your pelvis, landing on your hips and squeezing, pulling you into her.

“Use your words,” she pried, eyes dark and pupils blown.

You couldn’t. Your mouth was glued shut, it was impossible to say anything to her, impossible to do anything other than shake your head and squeeze her hands on your hips. You were so lost in her that you forgot all about the bar, all about the bathroom, the unlocked door. There was nothing but her. Her hands, her hair, her face, her mouth.

She moved her hand, pushing you forward with a grip on the back of your neck and folding you over the counter. Heat rushed through you, settling in the bottom of your stomach and making you close your eyes. The counter was fairly long, seemingly built for fucking on top of.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured you, her hand trailing down your back, the other still on your hip. “I’ll get you to say it.”

You let out a high pitched squeak, a mix between a whine and a sound of shock when she pulled the skirt of your dress up, pushing it past your lower back.

Her fingers ran over your skin, nails digging in as she dragged her hand lower and lower, pushing into you and leaning forward to speak in your ear. You moaned quietly, hips moving against the pressure of her still hand, seeking relief. “Would you have let him bend you over this counter,” she asked, kissing your shoulder. “What would he say if he saw this? If he saw you all desperate and needy for me, whining and begging for me to fuck you,” she looked at you, face pink and lips parted, and hummed.

When she started moving her hand you had to bite into your lip to keep quiet, so hard that you were afraid you’d bleed. Her fingertips pressed into your clit, moving in calculated circles just how you liked it. She’d always been so good at reading you, at figuring out just what made you tick, what made you need her.

“Please,” you panted when she slowed her hand, watching as she smiled menacingly from behind you before pulling the last layer of fabric down your parted legs. When she put her fingers back they were met with slick heat, the sound of her groan only making your need worse.

“Say it,” she said, running her fingers through you, feeling the way you wanted her. Her breathing stuttered when you let out a needy sound, her fingers pressing tight circles right where she knew you wanted them. It was too slow, you needed more.

You suppressed a moan, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You used to be so good for me,” she pouted, pulling your hand away from your mouth and holding it behind your back with her free one. “What happened?”

Without warning, she slid two fingers into you, pulling a deep moan from you, too loud for a public bathroom. Her fingers pushed down, finding the spot that only she knew before you could even comprehend it. She fucked you like she meant it, hard thrusts powered by months of pent up need. It was scary how fast she was able to build you up, how fast she got you panting and begging.

“Fuck,” you whined, straining your neck to look back at her for the first time, as opposed to her reflection in the mirror.

“Face forward,” she ordered, pounding into you harder, “look at how pretty you are, taking me like this. Tell me you want this, baby.” Her voice was dripping with need, the steady rhythm of her thrusts hauling you closer.

“Harder,” you groaned, pushing back into her and leaning up on your free arm. The fabric of your dress rubbed against your skin where it lay, the sensation was so dirty. You were being fucked over a bathroom sink, watching yourself get more and more pathetic as your ex buried her fingers in you.

Her thrusts grew softer, slower, enragingly delicate. “Say you fucking want me.” Her words were a stark contrast against the way she fucked you, the way she drew it out.

“Please, please Sam. I need it.” your mouth dropped open, little sounds flowing from it as she sped up again, fucking you just how she knew you liked it. Your eyes were closing of their own accord, struggling to stay open and watch as her muscles moved while she fucked you against a bar sink.

“Good girl,” she smiled, letting go of your hand to rub your clit again. You almost fell as the pressure inside of you skyrocketed, becoming almost unbearable. “Now tell me who you belong to.”

You couldn’t comprehend her words, too focused on the orgasm that was quickly approaching, preparing your body for the shock of it. “I’m so close, baby, I’m so close. Just like that.”

Your cunt was throbbing with need, finally reunited with the person who knew you the best. All those months of fucking yourself would never amount to the way Sam did. The way she commanded your entire being.

She stopped moving. All movement stopped. Her hands, her body, her mouth. You almost cried as her fingers stilled inside of you. The orgasm rushed away, dissolving into painful pleasure and disappointment.

“No, no. Why did you stop? Sam, why?”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

“Wha-” she started moving again, slowly rubbing a spot deep inside of you. You sucked in a breath. You were so turned on it hurt, wetness running down your thighs.

“Say it,” she stressed, fingers moving on your clit again, your orgasm sparked back to life, slowly building again. The longer you waited the faster she went, working you back up until you were on the edge, one move away from cumming.

“I’ll stop again and walk out of this goddamn bathroom so fast,” she growled over your moans. It was so hard to focus, you needed her so bad you couldn't breathe. "Who do you belong to? Who else fucks you like this?"

“You,” you choked out through a whine. Her thrusts sped up. You pulled her in with no resistance, clenching around her fingers and dripping with need “You. I belong to you, I’m yours. No one fucks me like you do, no one touches me like you do. Please let me cum Sam, please.”

The world seemed to pause when she leaned into you, kissing your neck and fucking you like you earned it. She was giving you all of herself, showing you who you belonged to and who you needed. Your brain was foggy, no sound came out of you as you came, cheek pressed against the counter and hands clenching into fists. Your elbow had given out, leaving you arched into the bar sink.

"That's it," Sam cooed, slowing down to fuck you through the wave of your orgasm, "You're so pretty."

Shock after shock hit, each one leaving you shaking even as she rested unmoving inside of you. "You did so good."

Your whole body was on fire, throbbing and twitching as you worked through it, Sam whispering praise in your ear.

She kissed your cheek, a sound of protest leaving you when she pulled her fingers out of you. You stayed still, your body moving with the force of your breaths.

"I locked the door when I came in," Sam smiled, rubbing your back soothingly.

You would ask her later, when you regained your ability to speak, how she knew to lock it. You would ask why she followed you, why she cared after you left her like she meant nothing. But for that moment, all you could do was lay there and listen to her love you.

#wlw #sapphic #lesbian #chapell roan #samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #scream #screamxi #scream au #lesbianism #melissa barrera

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kinda-cute-kinda-insane · 21 days

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BNHA with Idol!reader

How did they got caught having an idol as their s/o?

Characters : Tenya Iida, Jirou kyoka, Denki Kaminari, Shota Aizawa, Shoto Todoroki.

Reader gender is never mentioned, reader is a stereotypical cutesy idol, Aizawa’s reader is in their 20’s (while with the student they are the same age), no content warning I just want something adorable the manga’s been stressing me out lmao. Sorry if I get the first name and last name of the characters mixed up, I’m kind of stupid.

Uraraka have been finding it weird how her friend have been playing some idol group videos lately. She never thought that her stiff class president will be the type to listen to these kind of music. Look she’s not one to judge here she just finds it kind of odd.

She would have expected Iida to listen some kind of classical music, you know like any other rich kids.

So today she will no longer die of her own curiosity “Hey Iida, I want to ask you something serious,” she said. Emphasizing the word serious.

The said man immediately put his attention on her “what is it Uraraka-kun?” He answered. “Not to sound judgmental or anything,” she clarified before continuing. “I’m curious, why have you been watching (group name) nonstop?” She asked. Iida grew tense at the question (if that’s even possible considering how stiff he usually is)

“Oh yeah, I thought I was the only one who noticed that,” Their green haired friend added. While the dual colored hair boy just nodded his head, still chewing his food.

“Well I believe it is wrong to lie to our friends, but I hope you all can keep this a secret,” He said. They all gave him a nod.

He then explained how that one time his pro-hero older brother Ingenium have saved you back then from a creepy stalker. Tensei being the older brother he is tried to get you and Tenya to be together once he noticed that you both were the same age.

He can’t help it, you are such a nice person and he thinks his younger brother really needs to have some high-school romance in his life. Surprisingly you agreed.

You both went to dates (secretly) and you can’t help but find Tenya personality to be so charming, and he could say the same too.

“Although this relationship might seem not professional for the both of us considering their job as an idol and me as a hero in training,” he pushed up his glasses. “I hope you guys can keep our relationship a secret until we both decide to go public our self thank you.” He smiled at his friends.

‘Well that was even more unexpected’ Uraraka thought, but after realizing she began to squeal at how cute you both are. Midoriya is asking a lot of questions, while Tenya tried to tell the both of them to lower their voice down.

While Todoroki is just, well, eating. What a cool guy.

Mina was just minding her own business walking to the dorms living room, only to find a phone unattended on that table. Obviously being the kind friend she is she took the phone to give it back to whoever own the phone.

She turn on the phone to find some band she didn’t recognize, but she saw this on Jirou dorm room before. So this must be hers!

She turn around the phone to see the phone case, just in case if her guess is wrong. To her surprise she see a clear case. But that’s not what took her by surprise, it’s the photo card of (your idol name) sitting back there.

How come she never noticed this? Well this will be some good teasing material to her purple haired friend later.

“Oh hey Mina.” There it is the star of the show. “Have you seen my phone?” She asked. The pink haired girl smiled teasingly.

‘I don’t feel so good about this’ Jirou internally panicked. “Yeah I do,” Mina walked closer. “But, you have to answer my question first” she said.

“Okay, sure,” the purple haired girl answered. Thinking it was probably just a question about who her crush is. If so she can just easily shrugged it off, like always.

“Why do you have (your idol name) on your phone case,” Mina wiggled her eyebrows teasingly. Jirou not expecting the question grew flustered.

Shit, how could she forget about that. She just wanted to put your picture on her phone case as a sign of support on your music career (and also so she can easily stare at your photo when she missed you) she didn’t expect one of her friend to saw it. Even worse that Mina is the one who caught her, oh she’ll be living a hell of a teasing from the pink skinned girl.

“Come on answer me~” she said teasingly. “No reason!” Jirou tried to deny, looking away from her friend.

“Who would’ve thought our dark and mysterious girl Kyoka Jirou is actually a softie who enjoys cutesy music,” Mina poke her friend arms teasingly.

“It’s not like that!”

“Mhm, I trust you girl”

They both went back and fourth with the teasing and denying. Mina flipped the phone to show the lock screen to tease how different her friend true music taste is.

But a notification came up instead, catching both of the girls attention.

‘Y/n 💖 : are you still free for the date next week babe?’ It reads.

They both freezed immediately. “WHAT.” Mina screamed. Jirou tried to shut her friend by putting her hands on her mouth “quiet down!”

“Holy shit you gotta spill the tea to me girl,” Mina said her eyes still glued on the notification.

Jirou surrendered and tell her the stories how you both met because of her parents connection to your group agencies.

Mina agreed to keep her mouth shut, by the price of a signed photo card of you. Can’t really blame her, she’s just a girl.

Kaminari is the kind of person to say some stupid shit on the daily just for shit and giggles.

So when he claimed out loud to his friend group that (your idol name) and him is in a relationship nobody took him seriously. No one, even his best bro Sero. What a betrayal.

But even then he never stop proudly claiming his tittle as your boyfriend. Though it’s kind of strange how he only ever say those things to his closest friend group not the whole class like always.

It’s like he doesn’t want everyone but his close friends to know…

Anyway-

He managed to get himself injured during his internship and you’re worried, ever since the attack on the USJ your worry on your boyfriend has grown increasingly.

But luckily today, your manager actually let you visit him due to your free schedule today. She only tell you to be careful of the paparazzi which you successfully managed to run away from.

“Geez how long did the doctors said you will be here for?” You asked, while feeding him the warm food. “Eh, I dunno,” he shrugged. “I forgot.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Seriously you have to be more careful, you got me worried sick.” You sighed. “Sorry, it’s just how the hero work is y’know?”

“Still, I want you to be more careful next time,” you huffed. “Aw, I’m sorry baby.” He apologized, looking at your cute pouting face.

“Come here give me a hug,” you only stared at him. “Please?” You gave in and stood up to give him a hug.

He enjoyed the warmth of the hug only to be interrupted.

“Holy shit,” both Mina and Sero gasped. While Bakugo just stood there with a scowl on his face at the display of affection(boo what a hater)

“Oh, you guys must be Kaminari’s friends right?” You slowly let go of the hug and gave them a smile. “I think Kaminari have told you guys about our relationship, even though I told him not to.” You looked at him saying the last part. “But, thanks for keeping it a secret you guys” you said giving them all a warm smile.

“Holy shit you were not lying at all,” Sero looked at the both of you in shock.

“Bro?!”

Hizashi has been making fun of his friend Shouta. Because of the merch of (your idol name) scattered around his apartment.

But the dark haired man always claims that those merch was all Eri’s idea. The little girl always say yes about it with a little giggles coming from her.

So today he decided to drag Nemuri to also make fun of Shouta comically out of place idol merch. Compared to his dark interior (besides Eri’s room) it’s just so funny to see (your idol name) poster just hanging there in his living room.

They both stand in front of the door trying to hold their laugh as they hear a song from (idol group) blasting inside of the apartment. A faint sounds of Eri singing along the lyrics.

Hizashi opened the door, that is surprisingly unlocked. They find the living room empty so they both walked into the kitchen to find Eri being carried by-

(Your idol name)!?

You stood there in your casual clothes while holding Eri in your arms as you both waited for the apple pie to bake. “Hi guys!” Eri greeted the two adults standing.

They both stood there with shock in their face to find a celebrity stand inside the home of their friend. Hizashi then let out the loudest scream you’ve ever heard in your life. Your face grimaced at the loud voice ringing in your ears.

“What happened?” Shota ran into the kitchen panicking. Only to find two of his friends standing there “What the hell, what are you two doing here?” He asked. No response from the two of them. The blonde still shocked while the dark haired woman smirked teasingly.

“How the hell did you two even get inside?” He asked in annoyance. “Sorry babe, I forgot to lock the door earlier”

“BABE!?” Hizashi screamed again. “Holy shit this is so entertaining,” Nemuri laughed then reached for her phone, wanting to ask for a picture with you.

“Both of you leave, now” Shouta said, annoyed now that his calm and quiet weekend (with his beloved and daughter) is ruined.

Fuyumi has noticed how her youngest brother have been smiling a lot lately. Especially while on his phone. Truly she is happy to see how cheerful her youngest brother lately but she can’t help it to be so curious on why or what have been making him so happy.

Not to mention few weeks ago he asked her “What flowers do people usually buy for their partner?” Now that got her really curious.

Now she decided to follow her brother on the weekends to see who this mysterious person really is. “Is this really a good idea?” -While also dragging Natsuo into this mess.

“Well I’m just curious on who have been making my younger brother so happy lately,” she said. Natsuo rolled his eyes at the ridiculous excuse from his sister.

But he is also curious. Always being away due to college, he never saw a lot of things happen in the house these days. So to think of his younger brother who usually have a blank reaction suddenly all lovey dovey is kind of funny. And kind of terrifying.

“Maybe he’s just like those other teenage boys who like idols,” He said watching his younger brother walk into a venue where a new group was performing.

“But he bought flowers see?” Fuyumi denied pointing at the flowers her younger brother is carrying. “Fans give idols gifts all the time,” He replied.

“How did you know?”

“Anyway, this is ridiculous just let him watch his concert in peace.” He sighed. “No we must go inside, maybe he’s waiting for them inside.” She dragged her brother to the front gate.

Paying for the on the spot tickets that are quite worth the money. Such dedication thrown to know who this mysterious person is.

“This is ridiculous,” Natsuo said holding the light stick in his hands. Fuyumi only focused on her youngest brother smiling as he watched the group perform on stage.

This went for an hour until eventually the concert is now over. “See?” Natsuo pointed out. “But wait, he’s not leaving yet,” Fuyumi said suspiciously looking at Shoto. “Look!” She pointed at her youngest brother walking away to the backstage.

They both watch from afar as the venue is now empty, only the staff were present. And Shoto, too.

Fuyumi grip on Natsuo shoulders tightened as she see you walking out to greet Shoto. Which he replied with a bright smile.

Shoto then gave you the bouquet of flowers. You gave him a hug and a small peck on the lips before leading him to the backstage to hang out.

The other member greeted him watching you lead him to your changing room. You both enjoyed the food Shoto had ordered for delivery having your own little date.

“Holy fuck.” Natsuo breathed out. “Language! But yes indeed.” Fuyumi scolded then agreed to her younger brother.

Since then Fuyumi started listening to (idol group) music and watching interviews with you in it. And she’s glad to see how kind you are, and she believes you to be as kind and fun as you are in real life. I mean how can you jot charm her younger brother then?

While Natsuo let’s just say he’s been laughing at how ridiculous and funny the situation is. Maybe he’s also kind of envious that his younger brother is already in a relationship before him. Not to mention with an idol too.

#bnha #tenya iida x reader #tenya iida #jirou kyouka #jirou x reader #denki kaminari #denki x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota x reader #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #reader insert #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #idol #bnha imagines

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writerblue275 · 5 months

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What pet names would Heartsteel use for their S/O? And what pet names would they like to be called?

Inspiration: None honestly, I’ve just been thinking about it and I think it would be cute.

Genre: Headcanon

Category: Like 95% fluff with one of the member’s (LOL Kayn’s) going a little suggestive. But definitely not like full NSFW.

Gender: 99.999% Gender Neutral, but there might be an occasional parentheses with optional gender specific language for those that are comfortable with it. (Believe me, I get it, I’m non-binary so I do try and keep things as GN! as possible!)

TW: A bit suggestive for Kayn’s, so just to be on the safe-side let’s go 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI. A mention of alcohol. Also swearing because I swear. 🤷🏼‍♀️

A/N: This will be a bit shorter but that’s just because we have to get through all members both calling and being called pet names.

Aphelios

Pet names for his partner:

I think his pet names for his partner would be very sweet!

Of course there are the classics like “baby” or “babe.” I feel like there are the main ones he’d stick to in public. Another one he’d use in public is “honey.”

But in private I think that’s when his soft side would really come out.

He’d enjoy “cutie,” especially if he knows it makes you blush.

He’s a creative guy, and I think he’d also have some creative pet names.

Especially if he’s trying to turn up the romance/soften you up for something.

Ex: “Starlight,” “sunlight,” “my sun/sunshine/sunlight…”

And if he’s feeling sassy? You “goober” (with a smile and eye roll).

Pet names from his partner:

Just as he likes to call his partner sweeter pet names, I think he’d also like to be called sweeter pet names.

Although again, I think the sweetest ones he’d like you to reserve for him in private.

So “babe,” “baby,” “honey,” and maybe “love” it is in public.

“Cutie” is one he’d secretly love. He’d roll his eyes with the typical Phel sass but you see the way the tops of his ears turn pink.

And you know how he’s creative? Well don’t be afraid to get creative back!

You could make him melttttt with a pet name.

Like “my moon” or go full out with “my moon and stars.” (Especially in response to him calling you “my sun/sunshine.”) His internal response is: :))))

A way to playfully tease him for staying so late at the studio is to call him your “owl/night owl.” (He loves it).

Ezreal

Pet names for his partner:

Pet names with Ez would be so PLAYFUL.

And they would definitely start early on in your relationship.

Even on dates in public he’d be more open with pet names. (Though of course because of who he is both of you are a little incognito with hats, sunglasses, masks, etc...)

Why can I see him calling you something like “pumpkin,” “honeybunch,” “sugar,” “cupcake,” (LISTEN IT’S NOT JUST VI’s NICKNAME FOR CAITLYN DAMNIT) or “peanut?” (Even if you’re taller than him it does not matter, you’re his peanut.)

Lmao Kayn once heard Ez call you “honeybunches” and he was FLABBERGASTED. 😂

Omfg he would absolutely use pet names when trying to get something. Pet names and a pout? The man knows what he’s doing.

Absolutely loves that his pet names make you blush so easily, especially if he whispers them in your ear.

He’s such a lovable menace and I adore him.

Pet names from his partner:

OH THIS? THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN.

Because our man Ezreal can absolutely take as good as he gives.

An obvious one would be “bunny.” (Listen have you seen his smile on the cover art?)

When you called him “bubba” and your “love bug” for the first time, his face lit up like a kid in a candy store.

The more chaotic, the better to catch his attention.

We’re talking shit like “dreamboat,” “goober,” or “cutie-patootie.”

The first time Kayn heard you call Ez “dreamboat” water came out his NOSE he was so surprised.

Will love whatever pet name use because whatever you call him, he’s yours!

Kayn

(A/N: Alright listen this went a little suggestive but LORD help me I think he’d be SHAMELESS with pet names. 😳😏)

Pet names for his partner:

Out of all the members, I feel like Kayn would give the least amount of shits about hiding a relationship in public.

So he’s definitely not holding back from calling you pet names in public (now of course the man is smart enough to know which ones are better to keep private).

But “Babe?” ✅ “Baby? (Baby girl)” ✅ “Angel?” ✅ All totally fair game in public.

In PRIVATE??? 😏😏 Oh my friend get readyyyyy.

This man is a TEASE and you know he’s using pet names as a way to really fluster you. (Though of course he’s being sincere with them.)

Like “hottie,” “kitten,” (CAN YOU IMAGINE??) and “sexy.”

“Sexy” is like the most common pet name he uses for you PERIOD. Ex: Basically every day when he gets home he greets you with a kiss and a soft “Hey, sexy….”

More gender specific, if you were comfortable with it, he’d 100% call you “prince” or “princess.” (Someone get me a FAN 🥵.)

Pet names from his partner:

I think whatever his partner called him would be….not necessarily critical to Kayn, but it would still mean quite a bit.

I think he considers some pet names a little bit like affirmations, in a way. Like when he calls you “hottie” or “sexy” it’s because that’s how he sees you (appearance-wise) and he wants you to KNOW that’s how he sees you.

PLEASE do the same with him!!

Hearing YOU call him “hottie,” “sexy,” or “handsome” immediately banishes any insecurities he might have in the back of his mind.

And you cannot tell me he doesn’t love hearing any of those pet names whispered/murmured in his ear as you wrap your arms around him. I just don’t believe you.

Absolutely call him “Babe” in public. He loves that shit. I don’t think he’d mind if you called him “handsome” or “hottie” in public either, but those would be more for like when you two are having a convo together in a public space, if that makes sense. “Babe” would be to capture his attention.

Random: In private, besides calling him “sexy,” he secretly loves some of the older-school pet names. Like if you want him to MELT? Go old school.

“Darling?” His insides are a puddle and he’s ready to do whatever you need him to do.

(LMAO I had wayyyy to much fun with this, but his headcanon was what made me think about the rest of the group and what they’d like!)

K’Sante

Pet names for his partner:

I think he’s fine with using pet names in public. Like maybe nothing wild but he’s not going to necessarily hide you (though of course he’ll do what he needs to do to keep you safe).

K’Sante could use a mix of “old-school” pet names with more modern ones.

“Babe” is the primary one he uses in public.

Could totally see him using something sweet like “squish” or “boo.” (The mental image of this giant man using something like “Boo” is just amazing.)

If he helps you with an outfit, once you’re done dressing he’d absolutely be like “damn look at you, my model. You look phenomenal.”

Would absolutely use “handsome,” “beautiful,” “gorgeous,” or “stunner.”

I fully believe this man is an excellent cook. And because of that, he’d definitely throw some food-themed pet names in there. I’m thinking “pancake” or “peaches.”

Pet names from his partner:

Again, this man doesn’t really care if you call him pet names in public. Have you seen his sheer size?? People would be insane to mess with him and you (I’m thinking Travis Kelce with Taylor Swift vibes here).

So go for it! Call him “babe” or “baby.”

After they debuted, you affectionately teased him by calling him “hot shot.” Jokes on you though because he actually really likes that one now.

As we’ve discussed, K’Sante can cook along with being hella stylish. So he acts annoyed but really loves it when you sidle into the kitchen and say something like, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Again, this man knows how to DRESS. Loves hearing you call him “handsome” as you help him with some last touches on a look.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I get such good energy from Heartsteel K’Sante. I feel like he’d give excellent hugs and be your A+ “teddy bear.”

Likes some of the joking pet names you call him! Like when you thank your “stylist” after he helps you get an outfit together and get dressed. (Because let’s be real, he’ll probably have the better fashion sense in the relationship, that’s just how it goes.)

One that doesn’t quite work due to it being tied to pop culture in our world but the VIBE fits: “Hercules.” (Or “HUNK”-ules as the one muse would say.)

Sett

Pet names for his partner:

This man 👏🏻 LOVES 👏🏻 PET NAMES.

To the point that you don’t remember the last time he used your name. In fact, if he uses your name, it’s a clear indicator something is WRONG.

Will definitely use some of the classics in public like “babe” or “baby.”

He’d definitely get creative too. Like you know how he’s “the big boss?” (Hehehe lyric tie-in DUH).

If you ever came to visit him somewhere while he’s working, he’d jokingly call you his “assistant” as he pulls you into a big hug.

Ex: “Oh hey! It’s my amazing assistant who so kindly brought me lunch! How’s your day going so far, baby?” (He wouldn’t keep calling you his assistant throughout the interaction. It’s more of just a funny little greeting for when he first sees you.)

In private, he loves to use “angel,” “doll,” “sexy,” “beautiful/handsome,” or “sugar.” (Would also use “Prince/Princess” if you’re comfortable with it.)

He really knows how to make his partner smile and blush from pet names LET ME TELL YOU.

Pet names from his partner:

Just as much as he loves using pet names on you, he LOVES when you use pet names on him!!

Only call him Sett (or even more so, Settrigh) if something is wrong. You’ll get his attention INSTANTLY.

Of course, “babe,” “baby,” and “honey” are a-ok for use in public. I also think he wouldn’t mind a couple other creative ones being thrown in there every once in a while, even in public

An obvious one to use for him is “boss.” (My parents call each other “boss” and it’s actually very sweet!)

I feel like Sett would have a really romantic side (I mean, Mama didn’t raise her son to be a jackass of a partner here).

So when he does let that romantic side show, call him “Prince Charming” and watch his face light up. (I know that’s technically a pop-culture reference, but Prince and charming could feasibly come together in a world without Cinderella. Another pop-culture one that doesn’t work as well (unless we imagine Shakespeare existing in Runeterra) is “Romeo.” But the vibe fits Sett so I’m including it here.)

Another one who loves it when you call him “sexy” or “handsome.” (And you do it often because HOW COULD YOU NOT??)

Feel free to get creative, especially when you’re alone. Sweet or otherwise, he just loves hearing what names you create for him.

Yone

Pet names for his partner:

Yone is interesting. See, to me he has the highest likelihood of using more “traditional” pet names.

But make no mistake, traditional doesn’t mean boring.

The AFFECTION he puts into the pet names he calls you!!! (Like I’m going mushy just thinking about it.)

He’d be very low-key in public. Like maybe a soft “love,” “honey,” or “dear.” Usually though, it’s your name. (Hey he loves saying your name! Your name makes him happy.)

In private is really where his soft side shines and he’s much more verbally affectionate.

“My love,” “sweetheart,” “my beloved,” and “darling” are big favs of his to use.

He’d absolutely have a couple surprisingly cheesy ones. Like “pumpkin,” “dumpling,” or “sunflower.”

Always loves your reactions to him using pet names for you, especially your delighted expression when he uses the cheesier ones!

Pet names from his partner:

In a similar way to using “old-fashioned” pet names for you, I think he’d love it if you used some of the same ones for him!

Especially in public. I just see him as one of the more private members. But in public feel free to call him “love,” “honey,” or even “babe/baby” when you’re talking together.

Loves when you’re soft with him in private. This man works so very hard and sometimes he just needs some good cuddles and loving pet names.

Enjoys being your “darling,” “lovey,” and your “genius.”

And you have him wrapped around your little finger the second you say “My love…”

I talked about in my last headcanon how I absolutely think Yone loves to cuddle in private (and maybe when he’s drunk but that’s a different story).

You’ve started calling him “koala” because of how cuddly he gets and he secretly LIVES FOR IT.

But he will deny it to his dying breath if you accidentally say it in front of the guys. (Lmao you think Ez and Kayn are going to let him live that down??)

Thank you very much for reading! It’s been really fun to get back into creative writing now that I have this new account! 😊

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #headcanon #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel k'sante #heartsteel sett #heartsteel yone #league of legends #fluff #heartsteel x reader

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depravitycentral · 9 months

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Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku General Profile

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, violence, he breaks your fingers, Kyo feeds you bird-style and it's pretty gross and gnarly, delusions/detachment from reality, Stockholm Syndrome, masturbation, slight misogyny/traditional gender roles, forced motherhood, allusions to non-con, you and Kyo share a toothbrush ugh, lots of references to death, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Caring

Similarly to most other Hashira, Kyojuro is greatly attracted to honest, genuine kindness.

His world is so full of hatred, death, and pain, and having a darling who is softer, sweeter, more empathetic makes his heart swell.

(And, occasionally, other things will swell when he sees his darling smiling or complimenting or speaking with children - but Kyojuro pays it no mind. So you shouldn’t, either.)

There’s just something so alluring about a darling who genuinely cares for the people around them - he himself is quite positive, if not blunt, and a darling who can match his philosophy of protecting and caring for those who need it would be a perfect match.

He likes the idea of a darling who has the best intentions of others’ at heart; it’s refreshing to see and interact with someone who is so pure and wonderfully kind, because while his fellow slayers are certainly committed to a good cause, his darling is different.

They’re naturally sweet, utterly unaware of the horrors of this world and yet still striving to make others smile, still trying to help undo any wrongs those around them have experienced.

This aspect of his darling is one of the first things he notices about them, and while he’s not a selfish man by any means, he’ll grow to absolutely love when this caring nature is directed at him, particular after long, difficult missions where he’s both physically and emotionally exhausted, only desiring to hold something soft and sweet and warm.

Coincidentally, something exactly like his darling.

Passionate

The specific passion itself is inconsequential – it doesn’t matter what his darling loves, as long as they love something.

He himself is driven by internal motivation and a righteousness to help others, and while his darling doesn’t need to be quite this serious, he likes the idea of them having goals and aspirations.

The most likely way this manifests itself within his darling is through a creative platform – art, music, culinary arts, writing, or any sort of activity in which his darling can express themselves.

He likes that his darling has something they truly enjoy, and he’s the type to want to learn about and indulge in his darling’s passion.

He’ll eagerly listen to everything they have to say, absorbing the information with wide, glittering eyes and a smile, trying so very hard to listen to their words but getting repeatedly distracted by how utterly adorable they look when they’re concentrating.

He can’t stop admiring the way they look when they’re discussing their passion, how happy they become, radiating a sort of joy and glow that only makes him fall harder and deeper, his obsession solidifying with every smile they give him.

And he’ll fully foster this passion of theirs – he’s got access to any resources his darling can dream of, easily providing them and enjoying the way their face lights up, how they become so grateful.

His only caveat is that he has to watch them as they work at their passion, getting a front row seat to watch them enjoy themselves, his bright eyes fixed on them the entire time because god, how are they so utterly perfect?

It’s endearing to Kyojuro because in his mind, his darling looks at him that way, too, with a smile and undying love.

Ambitious

Now, his darling doesn’t need to be ambitious in the sense that they take huge risks, or even that they have high expectations and goals for themselves.

It can manifest this way, sure, but the main core of why he finds this personality trait attractive is because it shows drive.

He likes a darling who has a strong sense of self; he doesn’t want to change his beloved in any way; he wants to be their pillar of support, to offer unwavering help and encouragement for whatever pursuits they’re chasing after, no matter how big or small.

He thinks it’s a wonderful thing to have dreams for the future, just as he does – he dreams of Senjuro once again having a happy family (one he hopes his darling will help provide), and of all demons being eradicated so that the world can live peacefully.

He’ll cherish and respect any dreams his darling possesses, but only if they don’t interfere with what he believes should happen.

He prioritizes his relationship with his darling above many things, and this includes what his darling wants most.

He will be expecting them to dutifully become his loving partner and wife, to bear his children and help him raise them, to be a guiding, loving hand to teach them morality, charity, and all sorts of other things that his darling hardly believes he possesses.

So while he’ll likely crush the ambitions his darling possesses, the mere fact that they have ambitions is attractive to him.

Talkative

It’s not that Kyojuro can’t fall for a quieter darling, but rather that he wants someone who will match his chattiness.

He’s naturally quite loud, truly a boisterous man who loves to interact with others.

He’s constantly peppering his darling with questions, his voice a steady flow as he just talks and talks and talks, throwing compliments and them alongside grandiose declarations of love, all intermixed with small talk about the weather or the flowers on the sides of the village pathways, or even about the pretty birds flying in the sky.

He just likes interacting with his darling, and he needs someone that is willing to return his eagerness to talk.

He likes the way his darling’s attention stays on him when he’s speaking to them; how their eyes stay fixed on his form, how they nod along to his words, how they laugh at his outlandish, unbelievable claims and logic, how they just simply acknowledge him, making him feel comfortable and seen and wanted.

Kyojuro will want to spend hours talking with his darling, and he needs someone who can match this energy. He needs a darling who can pepper him with their own questions, who can keep the conversation flowing and keep the interaction alive.

Besides, Kyojuro has this unwavering, unsatiable curiosity for his beloved, one that can only be partially quelled when his darling is revealing more and more about themselves.

And he’ll eagerly listen, mentally storing away each new piece of information, remembering absolutely everything because everything about his darling is important, something that must be remembered and cherished and worshipped.

They’re just perfect, and if they’re naturally chatty, it only furthers his obsession.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Delusional

Generally speaking, from the moment that Kyojuro’s feelings for you fully form, he’s absolutely, utterly under the impression that every emotion, desire and draw he feels towards you is returned fully. He honestly believes that you’re just as in love as he is, that the connection he’s so acutely aware of between the both of you is mutual, that you’re just as desperate and eager to be his partner, his lover, his wife and the woman he’ll spend the rest of his life with.

He doesn’t have any real romantic experience - he’s been attracted to women before, sure, but he’s never courted someone before you simply because when he courts, he intends to wed.

And as a result, his only real reference for romance is his own parents’ relationship. And while it was loving, beautiful, healthy while his mother was still alive, time and his changing father have left Kyojuro with a bit of a warped view of love.

And this is where his delusions stem from - he’s confident, desperate for you to return the passionate feelings he holds for you, and he manages to convince himself of your growing love for him every day.

He’s so sure, in fact, that even as his obsession with you forms (slowly, as he’s a bit picky about partners and can be a bit oblivious even towards his own feelings), so do the beginnings of his detachment from reality. As he slowly begins realizing that he enjoys being in your presence more than most other people, your smiles and greetings of oh hello Rengoku, I didn’t know you’d be here will seem more and more like you expressing your glee at having him by your side rather than a simple, platonic welcome.

As he realizes that hearing you laugh makes his palms sweat and his heart race, he begins thinking your laugh is really for him, that your chuckles are stronger when they’re directed at him than compared to others.

He’s imagining your pretty face lighting up with that radiant smile behind closed eyes when he’s falling asleep at night, and slowly he begins concluding that your every quirk of the lip towards him must mean that you’re happy with him, that his presence alone fills you with a sort of joy that you simply can’t hide.

(And, perhaps you know that it’s you that fills his thoughts at night – maybe you’re purposefully plaguing his thoughts, trying to tell him something - perhaps you want him to think of you and your lovely mouth, the way your lips look when you say his name, how your tongue flicks out to wet them just so…)

It’s mostly innocent in the beginning; his delusions manifest more as simply misreading the signals you send him, honest mistakes that aren’t too uncommon – but, as the relationship (or, at least the one Kyojuro is trying so very hard cultivate) progresses, these slips in judgment become more and more profound, more and more difficult to ignore.

When he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest as he inhales deeply and enthusiastically greets you in a voice just a bit too breathy for your liking, Kyojuro sees your discreet attempts at ending the far-too-long hug as you merely trying to get comfortable.

Surely you just want to feel more of his body against your own, or want him to be closer so that there’s nothing separating you from him, from the love he’s oh so willing to give you.

When you bite your lip and avert your gaze as you politely ask him to stop staring at you so much and following you home, Kyojuro will simply smile, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving you a firm don’t worry, I don’t mind protecting you! It’s my place as a Hashira, after all, so don’t needlessly fret!

He honestly doesn’t understand why you’re not as happy as he is, and frankly he can’t even really fathom the idea that you aren’t happy – how can he, when he’s been searching for so many years for a partner to love and spoil?

How can he, when your body just seems to perfectly fit against his own, your voice like honey and your name a drug as it slips from his lips?

How can he, when he’s seen his father so harshly decline, when the memory of his mother is still so fresh, when he wants so badly to build a family of his own, to give Senjuro another family to call his?

How can he, when you become the sole reason he begins valuing his own life during missions, not being as reckless because he needs to come home to you - you need your lover and husband, of course.

(In more ways than one - who will protect you? Provide for you? Pleasure you?)

Kyojuro honestly latches onto you, his every thought and emotion revolving around you you you, to the point where even once he’s locked you away, deep inside the Rengoku residence with your shared bed and lovely, expensive new kimonos neatly folded in stacks upon stacks (all in shades of reds and golds, of course, to signify your status with him), he still won’t recognize that you’re always crying because you’re scared.

He won’t realizethat you flinch when he touches you because you don’t want him anywhere near you.

He won’t connect the dots that you spend each and every night curled up in a ball weeping because you just want to go home, please Kyojuro, please…

Try as he may, he just can’t fathom that you aren’t as madly, desperately in love – so don’t bother, really, because it’s much more hassle than it’s worth, and in the end he’ll get what he wants. He always will get what he wants, so why don’t you just give in?

He’ll never let you go, never believe any of your pleas to be freed from him, so why don’t you just accept his love?

Protective

Honestly, your personal combat abilities are irrelevant - in Kyojuro’s mind, you’re weak. Defenseless. Laughably unable to keep yourself safe and out of trouble - incapable, even, though it sounds a bit harsh.

He believes that you’re too fragile and sweet and wonderful to be anywhere near a demon, a human with bad intentions, or anything of the sort.

Your strengths lie not in battle, but in your charm and beauty - you’re so sweet, your words melting him like butter and leaving him as putty in your hands, his heart doing backflips in his chest as his fingers twitch to do anything and everything just to keep you smiling.

Your talents lie in the way you effortlessly intrigue him; your words ensnaring his attention no matter the topic, your touch sending electricity up his spine, even your most mundane actions making him stop and stare because every little thing you do is important.

You simply aren’t made for the battlefield, or for confrontation in general - he’s sure of it, and he’s arguably the most trustworthy source of judgment you could find. He’s a seasoned Hashira, seen more death than you can imagine, slaughtered more demons than you can count, so could he really be wrong in his assessment of your abilities?

He sees you as a bit of a baby, in all honesty, because while he’s more than aware of your womanly charms (the not so subtle way his eyes rake over your figure when he forces you to bathe with him is enough to convince you of that, if the way his hands ghost over the bulge of his trousers when you speak to him wasn’t enough), he still can’t shake the paranoia that you’ll one day be hurt.

He’s terrified that you can’t really take care of yourself as well as he can. And frankly, the paranoia isn’t unfounded – it’s difficult to fault him for his overprotectiveness when you think of his past, how often he sees death, and how often he’s the cause of it.

He’s too accustomed to seeing others’ lives lost, and he absolutely refuses to allow you the same fate, so long as he’s breathing and has enough finger strength to grip his sword and send air rushing through his lungs.

He’s determined to a disturbing degree to keep you safe; with every demon he decapitates, internally he’s sighing in relief because that’s one less monster that could potentially sink their claws into you - every demon dead is a step towards keeping you safe, healthy, alive, his.

He’s patronizing in an odd way, because while he doubts your capabilities, he doesn’t treat you like you’re a child. He’s just hovering, always, with his eyes glued to you and that same unnerving, wide smile on his lips that never seems to go away when you’re around him.

His gaze is wide and excited as he sees how you bring the bowl of soup to your lips to sip, the intensity of the way he watches making your hands tremble and a bit of the hot soup spill down to your chest.

He’ll let you feed yourself - for now - but as soon as you flinch, the heat and wetness making you cringe as you get up to clean yourself, he’s on you – a flash of yellow and red as he tut-tuts and uses the sleeve of his haori to wipe up the mess, a thumb against your lip and his face much too close to yours as he tells you to be careful, don’t hurt yourself, my flame.

He’s not letting you touch anything with sharp edges, for fear that you’ll trip and cut yourself, nor does he allow you permission to speak to anyone new that he hasn’t already extensively vetted in his own way.

(This comprises mostly of just simply observing someone, and the moment he sees something even slightly unfavorable - like a snarky comment or even having their hair be messy - he’s deciding that they’re not good enough to interact with you - you’re better than them, and speaking with them would only taint you, bringing you down from the pedestal he places you on.)

He’s controlling, not allowing anyone into your life that isn’t himself, to the point that he’ll simply show up the second another man or woman begins speaking with you, a strong arm around your waist with fingers digging in much harsher than they should, that familiar smile tight on his lips.

He’s terrified that he’ll one day lose you, and in a lot of ways keeping you safe is his own way of living up to the expectations of his mother.

You’re weak, so damn weak, and you need someone to care for you, to be there for you and take care of you in your time of need, and Kyojuro is more than happy to take on the role, to take responsibility of your life and safety.

It’s a bit overwhelming, how he’s always offering to do tasks for you, interrupting you halfway through to take over with that broad grin of his, that laugh and a rambunctious what kind of lover would I be if I didn’t carry your groceries for you making it difficult to stop him.

And really, eventually you’ll get to the point of relenting and letting him to do as he pleases, because as much as the man may intimidate you, scare you or disturb you, there’s just something about his desperation to please you that’ll get you feeling oddly flattered, flustered simply because of the lengths he’s willing to go.

Because really, while it may scare you how his hand always seems to find a place at your hip, don’t all the stories and movies have chivalrous male leads helping guide the girl through crowded areas, a steady hand to help keep them grounded, just as Kyojuro does?

Sure, it’s weird how he knows the order from every restaurant in town that you like, how he’s always able to show up at just the right time with a steaming bowl of udon or whatever you’re feeling, but doesn’t it feel nice to be cared for, that he thought of you and made the stop to buy you something?

It may be disturbing how he gulps and smiles wider every time he sees you bend over, but isn’t it flattering to know that he finds your body attractive?

He won’t allow you to place a finger on anything or anyone that could hurt you, so you’d better get used to the life of a pampered housewife – because while it will take him a long while to allow you to cook with any sort of heat, there’s something oddly therapeutic about being your big, strong partner that provides for you, while you keep his bed and heart warm, all with that natural charm he finds so alluring.

Clingy

Because Kyojuro’s perceptions of your relationship aren’t exactly realistic, he’ll come off as extremely, extremely needy to you. But it’s in a strange way – he’s not constantly clinging onto you, needing your reassurance and needing your eyes to stay focused entirely on him.

(He certainly won’t discourage this kind of behavior, of course, but he isn’t that outwardly desperate, and he isn’t the type to physically grasp your chin to keep you looking at him. He’ll perhaps grasp your hand or your waist to keep you at his hip, but he’s not quite that blatant.)

Instead, his clinginess manifests in how he’s simply always around you.

His presence will become a constant in your life – you’d be hard pressed to not see those familiar blond and red locks in your peripheral, or to hear that booming voice ringing in your ears. It would be difficult to find yourself in a public situation where Kyojuro isn’t standing diligently at your side, that blinding smile spread across his face, turning just a bit softer and a bit more earnest when it’s aimed at you.

Really, he simply hates being away from you. Not having you within his sight makes him nervous, anxiety itching at his stomach because where are you?

It’s not possessiveness, not a paranoia that you could be talking to other men, but rather an honest, genuine, horrible fear that you could be hurt, that someone could’ve taken you and injured you and touched you and possibly even have killed you.

And frankly, the fear isn’t too unfounded – you’ll understand why he's always rushing to you, literally running to catch up with you when you wander away from him, a steady hand pressing into your back as he pulls you into a hug, the faint smell of woodsmoke and musk filling your nose as the hard planes of his chest press against you.

It’s understandable, so you won’t really wonder why he’s always insisting on accompanying you every free moment he has, his presence acting as your shadow but much, much louder. It might make you uncomfortable, sure, because having someone always by your side is a little disorienting and overwhelming at times, but you’ll tolerate it – how can you tell Kyojuro no, anyway?

He’s so radiant when he’s giving you that smile, his eyes sparkling and his hands soft and gentle as he grasps onto yours, telling you that he’s so excited, we must try the new ramen shop down the street! I’ll order your favorite, you needn’t remind me what it is! I think we should share one, and perhaps a second or third…

(It’s probably not worth mentioning to him that you never even told him what your favorite is, he just seemed to know it, a fact that initially unnerved you, but you’ve found that guessing what you’ll like seems to be a talent of his. It’s not, of course, because he’s spent hours talking with any family members or friends of yours to learn every possible scrap of information about you that he can, introducing himself as your fiancé and charming them enough to get even the most sensitive secrets out of them, including your menstrual patterns, your bathing routine, even your temperament as a child because he’s convinced it will give him insight into the temperaments of your future – and inevitable – children together.)

You’ll disregard his penchant for always staying by your side in the beginning, but as time progresses it’ll become more difficult to let his behavior roll off your back.

Accompanying you to the market is fine, but you’ll bite your lip and find the courage to speak up when he ends up straying a good five feet behind you, his bright eyes burning holes into the back of your head as he keeps pace with you.

(When you turn around to ask him why he’s not walking with you, but rather trailing behind you like some sort of stalker, he’ll just laugh and tell you in that familiar, boisterous voice that he can protect you better this way! Besides, the view from this angle is excellent! Dissecting that last comment will only make you more uncomfortable, so you simply nod and keep walking, picking up your pace and desperately wishes you’d be arriving sooner.)

Him wanting to meet all your friends and acquaintances is fine, but when he’s pushing his way into the conversation and snaking an arm around your waist, you’ll feel just as awkward as your companions, disturbed by the casual manner with which Kyojuro handles you.

(This almost always leads to the assumption that the two of you are together, which you’ll frantically shake your head to, spouting some nonsense about being just friends that makes Kyojuro’s brows cock inwards, sending a glance at you with quizzical eyes. Just friends? You are certainly friends, but you’re more than that – friends don’t daydream about each other, and friends certainly don’t spend nights with ragged breaths, bucking hips, and the other’s name slipping from their lips like a prayer.)

He’s just a lot, and while you knew this from the beginning, time will only increase his behavior, pushing him more and more into spending time with you, into writing you letters while he’s away on a mission (they’re mostly detailing how much he misses you, telling you of each object and person that reminded him of you, and while it would be sweet, the sheer volume and frequency of these letters will make you loathed to open them), even into pushing past your boundaries and being much, much too familiar with you.

(You’ll bid him goodnight after he’s walked you home from the meal he insisted you share, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint and instead waltzes straight into your modest home, settling himself at your tableside and beaming at you, telling you to join me, my flame, I wish to hear about your deepest desires! He won’t insist on staying the night, as that would be too inappropriate for a not yet married couple – which he seems to be insinuating the two of you are – and will eventually take his leave, but not before gently grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss against your knuckles that’s much, much too wet, and far too long.)

His clinginess can be suffocating, of course, but once you’re stuck with him, forced to live in the Rengoku estate and call him your husband?

Well, if you thought he was needy before, it’s nothing compared to the way he treats you then – constantly wandering hands (concentrated mostly at your waist, hips, and squeezing your thighs), compliments that toe the line between heartfelt and disturbing (you are so very beautiful, particularly when you’re asleep – did you know that you smell a certain way when you’re unconscious? It’s sweet, like ripe fruit; I wish to smell it at all times), and those eyes always, always focused on you.

Every free moment he has goes into attending to you, whether you want it or not, so don’t even bother trying to get some distance from the Flame Pillar.

He will invade your space and he will not be regretful, his delusions most often barring him from even realizing that you’re uncomfortable.

He’s simply a man who ardently admires and desires you, and at the end of the day, you can’t even really blame him. Because, as they say, love makes one do crazy things, and he’s certainly, certainly in love with you.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

When it comes to jealousy, Kyojuro is surprisingly relatively unaffected, all things considered.

He’s not someone who’s biting at your heels the moment another man spares you a glance, and while he obviously doesn’t like the way other men interact with you, he’s not nearly as suffocating regarding his possessiveness as some of his fellow Hashira.

He tends to give others the benefit of the doubt, and while he’s still very protective over you and would immediately step in if another man posed a threat to your safety or comfort, he doesn’t automatically assume that any man who interacts with you has nefarious intent.

And so, he doesn’t immediately grow jealous and snarl at any man stupid enough to come within a few feet of you – he’s not as depraved, at least in that sense.

(In others, absolutely, but if Kyojuro has one redeeming quality, it’s his judgement of character.)

However, this isn’t because of some moral high ground the Pillar possesses, or a firm sense of lucidity – in fact, it’s quite the opposite, as his delusions drive most of his indifference regarding other men giving you attention.

He’s so, so confident in the idea that you’re meant for one another that he honestly doesn’t even register that you could interested in another man, that you could be stolen away from him willingly, that you could fall in love with anyone but the Flame Hashira himself.

He just doesn’t get it, and so he isn’t as suffocating as he could be in these situations – no, not by a long shot, something you’re admittedly equal parts lucky and unlucky for.

Because really, while you won’t have to deal with the isolation that comes with extreme levels of possessiveness, being Kyojuro’s darling is certainly not an easy ride – how can it be, when he’s so blatantly unaware of the signs in front of him that a man is coming on to you, that he’s smiling and flirting with you and reaching out to brush the hair away from your eyes while you bashfully grin and laugh at his lame jokes?

How can you not be unsettled with the way he’s so unaffected, always spouting nonsense about how in love you two are, how perfect of a match you are, how no man would ever dare take you away from me – how could anyone break such a real bond of love?

It’s disturbing, and as time passes slowly you’ll come to realize that while he won’t drag you kicking and screaming away from another man trying to get more than familiar with you, the alternative of watching him broadcast what he perceives to be your ‘relationship’ to every stranger who makes eye contact with you will get old very quickly, the feeling of him almost trying to show you off making your skin crawl and a cold sweat break out over your hairline.

Kyojuro isn’t subtle, not in the least, which is why the minute another man approaches you, you should be ready – the embarrassment will be thick, as will the discomfort of everyone involved (except the Hashira himself, of course).

So you might as well stop trying to converse with other people – after all, Kyojuro has no problem acting on his intuition, so won’t you just not give him a reason to be so extravagant?

The moment the man in the small market stall shoots you a shy smile and approaches you, there’s already a sinking feeling settling in your gut, the knowledge that your self-proclaimed ‘lover’ is only a few stalls down making you bite your lip in anxiety.

He’s polite, by all accounts – full lips a pleasant pink color ask you about your opinion on the newest shipment of melons, the fruit laid out in front of you in a pleasing display. There’s a respectful distance of a few feet between your bodies, and his voice is soft, calming, the complete opposite of the boisterous, loud slayer you’ve come to be so close with. It’s refreshing, and you shoot him a smile as well as you point to a certain melon on the display.

This one looks ripe – you can tell, you know, by the markings on the fruit. The more yellow spots, the better the texture will be.

The man’s still looking at you, but his gaze shifts to the fruit as he nods in agreement. He laughs a bit, then reaches out to pick up the melon. I’ll trust your advice, then.

The interaction is somewhat short, sweet and innocent, and though you get the feeling that the man finds you attractive (the light blush on his cheeks tells you as much), you don’t feel particularly uncomfortable.

But all too soon the peace of the moment is ending, and a familiar call of your name has your spine stiffening, your throat bobbing as you heavily swallow. The call comes again, and all too soon there’s an unfortunately familiar hand settling on your waist, Kyojuro’s muscular arm wrapping around your body and pulling you flush against his side.

Being so close in public would normally embarrass you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you know what’s coming.

My flame, who is this? A friend of yours? Kyojuro asks, and before you can open your mouth to answer, the stranger does.

Oh, um, I’m Takeru.

He’s visibly uncomfortable, and as you try to subtly squirm out of the slayer’s grasp, Kyojuro’s smile only widens.

He nods his head lightly, his smile growing even brighter. A pleasure to meet you, Takeru! I am Kyojuro Rengoku, thank you for helping keep her safe at this busy market place!

The man – Takeru – shifts awkwardly, unsure how to respond to such a strange comment, but it doesn’t seem to stop your unwanted companion.

You see, she has such a habit of wandering away in crowded places, and it makes it hard to keep an eye on her! You’d be amazed at how often I’ve seen her trip and fall in places like these!

He laughs at that, and you feel a new kind of embarrassment eat away at you. Does he really need to be sharing all this information?

Yes, it’s very crowded, Takeru agrees, and you silently send him a pleading look. He blinks at you, discomfort clearly swimming in the black depths of his dark eyes, and internally you beg Kyojuro to just drag you both away from the stranger.

She can be so forgetful, but that’s the wonderful thing about love! Despite her clumsiness, she is still graceful and elegant to me, and that’s a sign of true love, wouldn’t you agree?

Takeru nods, hesitantly, and you grit your teeth.

Kyojuro sighs dreamily from beside you, squeezing you even tighter against his side. And I do love her, of course! She is my soulmate, the future mother of my children, and every time I gaze at her, my devotion only grows deeper!

You’re visibly embarrassed now, trying to cover your face and desperately willing the interaction to just be over, but Kyojuro doesn’t seem to hear your silent prayers.

He grabs your wrist gently, his lips pressing kisses against the inside of your wrist, and immediately you’re eyes grow wide. Surely he wouldn’t, not in a public setting –

He cuts your thoughts off with a press of his lips against yours, the groan that he releases against you making you shiver in anything but pleasure. Your eyes are still open, and you see Takeru staring with a dropped jaw, evidently shocked at Kyojuro’s blatant display of affection.

Your brows furrow, and as he slips his tongue past your lips, you find yourself only able to focus on the way Kyojuro is growing louder, his groans getting more pronounced as the kiss grows hungrier, more desperate, feeling less like a tender, heartfelt sign of love.

After a good two minutes he finally pulls away, your lips feeling sticky and wet from his saliva. He stares down at you with heady eyes, his tongue licking his lips as he whispers your name under his breath.

You go to say his name, to ask him if you can just leave the market, but he cuts you off with a laugh.

Oh my flame, where did Takeru go? We must have scared him off with our display of passion! My sincere hopes that he’ll one day find a love like ours.

You very much don’t wish that, but as Kyojuro grasps your hand and guides you to the edge of the market place, passing through the spot Takeru had departed from during your sudden and overtly steamy kiss, you’ll find yourself sighing.

The blatant act of romance was unwarranted and unwanted, of course, but somehow your lips are tingling, your heart racing in shamefulness and something else – something that grows stronger and Kyojuro turns to look back at you, a grin stretching across his lips, his cheeks tinted pink as he gazes at you.

It’s wrong and you’ll hate it, every part of you screaming to not be fooled by the boyish look he’s giving you; he’s a slayer, a grown man who very clearly doesn’t understand that you are not future spouses, that you are not in love.

You’ll hate yourself for it, but even as he leads you back to your home, guiding you and not letting your hand go the whole way (even though you you’re very familiar with the route and don’t need his navigational help), you’ll find yourself almost, almost wishing he’d kiss you again – just not in front of a stranger this time.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because he’s on the more delusional side, Kyojuro’s view of your relationship is warped.

He’s already eager in the context of romantic relationships, but in yours, specifically, he’s rushing through all the steps, too excited to get that gold ring on your finger and his last name replacing yours to really take his time with you.

And this becomes problematic particularly because you will have no idea, at least at first, that the Flame Hashira believes you’re courting one another, that it’s simply a matter of time before you’re keeping his bed warm and nursing his children.

And because of this quick timeline of your relationship, Kyojuro is actually quite quick to propose living together. Of course, it’s a bit taboo to be living under the same roof before you’re wed, but he’s willing to bend the traditional rules a bit if you put up any sort of opposition.

If you decline his blatant requests to live with him, he won’t relent. Initially, he’ll bluntly ask you in the middle of a shared meal if you’d like to move your belongings into the Rengoku mansion - I can have a few servants come to assist in the moving process, if you’d like, and of course I’ll be there to help carry anything heavy!

When you stare at him like he’s grown two heads, he’ll be a little confused, and curiously asks you why you seem to be shocked.

When you honestly respond, at a loss as to why he’s asking you to live with him when you’re very, very firmly just friends, Kyojuro will only laugh in response, his hand coming down to slap his knee because oh, you’re so funny, you sweet, coy little thing.

He’ll drop the subject that day, moving on to ask you about your thoughts about the weather or your favorite color or anything at all, greedy to hear your voice and bask in your attention.

But the next day, when he suddenly pops out of nowhere and accompanies you on your walk into town to buy a few necessities, the question is prompted once more.

I only have two separate futons, but I’m sure we could push them together! Similarly, I only have two blankets, but I’m sure my body heat will keep you warm!

You’ll be confused, giving yourself just a hair more distance between your bodies (he’d gotten very close without you noticing), throwing him a glance and worryingly asking what are you talking about?

He’s so nonchalant when he answers our sleeping arrangements, of course that it makes you wonder if you’ve missed something, if you’re somehow not in the loop because when the fuck did you agree to sleep in the same room as him, much less in such a position where you could feel his body heat?

You’ll negate his questions and try to change the topic once more, but Kyojuro is relentless - everyday there will be a new question of when you’ll inevitably be living together, and with every day he gets more and more restless to finally have you in his arms as he sleeps, to come home to you after long missions, to relish in the sight of you peacefully reading or crafting in the morning sun, wearing his clothing and smelling like him.

He’s a patient man, yes, but even Kyojuro has his limits - and he finally reaches this limit when one day he can’t seem to find you anywhere.

It’s like you’ve disappeared off the face of the Earth - he’d wanted to spend some time with you (really, he’d just finished his allotted training for the day and had been idly daydreaming about holding your hand the whole time, and was now in desperate need of finding you to intertwine your fingers with his), but your home was empty and none of your neighbors seemed to remember seeing you leave.

Immediately worry is eating away at him, because his sole job as your future lover and husband is to keep tabs on you and protect you, and he’d been too busy focusing on himself and getting stronger to fulfill his duty.

He searches for you in all the common spots he knows you visit, and with each empty location his desperation gets a bit more extreme, his panic slowly engulfing him because where the fuck could you be?

Eventually he’s sprinting around the general area you reside in, running mile after mile as his smile slips away and his entire body grows sweaty, his heart racing and even a few tears threatening to well in his eyes because he can’t stomach the thought that you’ve been hurt somehow, that someone has stolen you, that you’re simply gone.

It’s not until the evening that he eventually stumbles upon you, your pretty kimono stained with a bit of dirt as the bottom hem and your shoulders a bit slumped from the heavy bag slung over them, your limbs aching from the long journey it’d taken to visit a friend a few villages over.

He happens to run by you along the path, and immediately he’s stopping and staring, his chest visibly heaving, his eyes wide and vulnerable as he blinks, pinching himself to make sure this is real, that you’re really standing in front of him, that you haven’t been devoured like he’d been imagining.

But all too soon he’s rushing forward, the wind knocked out of your lungs as he tackles you to the ground, clutching you against his chest as he bombards you with questions, slurred and rushed as he asks if you’re okay, are you hurt? Where were you? Why didn’t you tell me you’d be gone today? Did you speak to anyone? Did anyone touch you? Were you scared without me?

He’s speaking so quickly and loudly into your ear that you can’t even get a response in, his voice slightly uneven and betraying the influx of emotion swimming through his chest. He’ll pull back to gaze at you, thumbs brushing over your cheek, before smiling softly and pressing a soft, long kiss to your forehead, whispering to you that you’ll be safe now, my love, forever.

Then it all goes black, and you wake up dressed in a much too nice kimono, sleeping in an ornate room in a futon you don’t recognize, familiar eyes trained on your form as his seated figure watches you slowly wake up beside him.

As a captor, Kyojuro is mostly just suffocating.

Because he still heavily believes in the delusions he’s been nursing since the beginning of his infatuation with you, he doesn’t see anything wrong with what he’s done. He doesn’t see his relocation of you as kidnapping, nor does he understand why you seem so unhappy to be with him.

It was inevitable that you’d be sharing the same home and bed, didn’t you know?

Why do you seem so surprised when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his body, spooning you and sighing your name into your ear with just a bit too much reverence?

Why are you flinching away from him when he pulls you close for a kiss, his calloused fingers gently grasping your chin as he whispers between wet, loud kisses that he loves you, that he’s more in love with you than you could possibly imagine, my flame, you are my light in eternal darkness.

He’s sappy and too much and always hovering around you, his presence smothering you in every sense of the word. He’s clingy and needy, always wanting to be watching you and simply observe you, because even though he now spends nearly every hour of every day he has off in your presence, everything you do is still special to him, interesting and wonderful and important, and he has no sense of boundaries.

He will be standing close to you, practically breathing down your neck. He will ask you all sorts of personal questions, ranging from things like your greatest fears and most embarrassing moments to your menstrual cycle and which spots feel best when you’re touching yourself to the thought of him.

(He assumes you must pleasure yourself while thinking of him, because he does, too, religiously, every night, your pretty face and voice and body at the forefront of his thoughts as he paints his fist white over and over and over.)

He doesn’t see any reason why there should be any sort of barriers between the two of you, because you’re soulmates - made for one another, destined to spend your lives together, your fates irrefutably intertwined and brought together by the unyielding, passionate love you possess for one another.

And, unfortunately, this lack of barriers manifests itself in some pretty undesirable ways - you’ll be sharing one singular toothbrush, for example, Kyojuro insisting that it’s romantic and sweet and becoming of a young couple to share everything with one another, even their saliva.

He’s having the two of you share undergarments; they’re all made of soft, smooth cloth, in a variety of neutral colors that he’ll wear for the day, then shuffle up your legs the next day, smiling and licking his lips because the fabric that spent all day pressed up against him is now pressed up against you.

(And, on days where you’re particularly unlucky, sometimes Kyojuro lets his thoughts run a bit wild once he’s wearing them, his eyes fluttering closed as he imagines you and subtly ruts against his palm as he waits for nightfall in the small village his next mission is in, the time passing slowly until he’s gasping your name and staining the undergarment with wet warmth, already giddy and excited to have you wear them tomorrow, unwashed.)

He’ll even sometimes share food - and not in a sweet, romantic way, but rather in a raw, connected way; he’ll take a bit of food and chew it, then press his lips against yours and push it into your mouth, encouraging you to chew as well, before eventually kissing you once more and swallowing it all himself, his grin nearly blinding because now he’s eaten both the meal and you, or at least a bit of your spit.

He’s just weird, and while he’s constantly showering you in compliments and spoiling you with anything and everything under the sun, it’ll be hard to adjust to this new, strange lifestyle simply because he doesn’t really allow you time to adjust.

He’s expecting everything to be sunshine and roses from the moment you wake up as a freshly kidnapped darling, his expectations high that you’ll be pliant and willing and happy to learn that you’re finally, finally together.

And while it takes a lot of disobedience from you to snap him out of his rose colored view of you, Kyojuro is doing everything in his power to make sure that your relationship is perfect, that he’s taking good care of you and loving you as he should.

Which leads to another important aspect of being his darling - he doesn’t see women is inferior in any way (Shinobu and Mitsuri alone have dispelled that image), but he likes the idea of you being his housewife, fulfilling traditionally feminine duties.

He likes the idea of you taking care of the home, making sure dinner is cooked and served for him in the evening (he’ll often send a crow your way when he’s heading home after missions, just so that you can prepare for his arrival - normally, this means a meal and very little clothing adorning your frame, so that he can feast on your delicious food and then your delicious body), and attending to his every need as he does you.

He likes the idea of you keeping the mansion clean and eagerly awaiting his return home when he’s away, your devotion to him keeping you motivated to make sure everything is perfectly in order for him.

He’s trying for children very, very early on, his thrusts slow, deep and meaningful as he kisses you and promises that this will finally be the load that takes, because the mere idea of you swollen with his child and needing his help to do things even as simple as sitting down makes him giddy and unbearably excited.

And he doesn’t want just one child - oh no, he wants many, as many as you’re willing to give him.

He wants the perfect family with you, and as your captor, he won’t try to hide this wish. You will be made aware that he wants you to dote on him, that he wants you to spread your legs and conceive his child, that he wants you you you.

(He’s discussing potential names with you within the first week of having kidnapped you, his fingers idly tracing over your stomach as he tells you that the first born must be named Shinjuro, then perhaps we’ll have a daughter, and she can be named Hana! But we must also have some named Takeru, Ucharo, Nakagome, Watabe, and of course Shigeru! And after that, if you have any names in mind, we can surely name the following children them!)

Kyojuro isn’t necessarily bad, per se, as he does genuinely spoil you and give you all the time and attention and physical affection he can, but you’ll feel weighed down, crushed, drowning in the way he always seems to take and take from you.

But eventually, you will grow dependent on him - how can you not? He’s still so sweet with all the compliments he gives you (a little deranged, perhaps, but the sentiment is there), the reverence in his eyes when he gazes at you, the gentleness and eagerness in his touch when he has his hands on you.

He’s complicated, yes, but life with him will be so very simple - just bend to his whims, and perhaps you’ll even enjoy the way he hugs you so tightly it nearly hurts, or how he limits the number of servants who are allowed to speak with you - he just loves you, and is it so wrong to enjoy being loved?

PUNISHMENTS:

As his darling, you’re somewhat lucky that Kyojuro is as delusional as he is, if only because it keeps him mostly blind to any misbehavior and attitude you can throw at him.

Of course, he has his limits, but in general he’s able to write off any snarky comments of yours or slight attempts to put distance between the two of you as you simply you trying to be funny, barking out a laugh and moving even closer to you, pressing into your space even more, making sure there’s not an inch of space between your bodies.

Or, sometimes, he interprets your very blatant rebellions against him as you simply trying to test his resolve – he thinks you’re trying to force him into showing just how deeply he loves you, as if you’re testing just how strong his feelings for you are.

And while he finds this just the slightest bit offensive (you’re doubting his love for you – his passion for you; can you not tell that his heart beats only for you? Can you not see that alongside his duty to the Corp, you’re the reason he breaths, the reason he wakes up in the morning, the reason he’s alive?), it mostly serves as motivation for him to love you harder, to become more expressive with his feelings.

It pushes him to hug you tighter, his fingers nearly leaving bruises with the strength of his grip around you, the hugs going much longer and getting more intimate, if the brush of something big and hard against your thigh is any indication.

It pushes him to compliment you more, the words falling from his lips with such conviction that it’ll almost make you flustered, if the content wasn’t so unnerving.

(There’s lots of you are so beautiful, my flame, but there’s also a lot of you look so peaceful in your sleep, it makes me want to lock you away forever and keep you mine and deep inhales followed by your scent sets me on fire, my love, you don’t know what you do to me.)

He views most of your rebellions as simply you trying to catch his attention, perhaps being a sign that you feel you’re being neglected by all the missions he must leave you and attend to.

And frankly, Kyojuro doesn’t blame you – he wishes he could give you more attention too, because although he feels his job is wildly fulfilling and the morally correct thing to do, a more selfish part of his heart yearns to spend his days with you in his hands instead of his sword, your body curled up against his while he keeps you warm and tells you how deeply he loves you.

And because of all the different avenues he employs to simply disregard any negative behavior from you, punishments with Kyojuro are extremely rare. It takes quite a bit to push him into reality for even a brief moment, to force him to come face to face with the fact that you aren’t happy and that you don’t love him.

He only has a few triggers that can be powerful enough to force him into this mindset – you harming yourself, and you attempting to escape.

When you injure yourself, it’s difficult to rationalize why you would have done that, but he’s normally able to scold you (with condescending words and tone, that same smile stretched across his lips), telling you to be more careful and let me prepare your bath next time, all burns from hot water must be avoided in the future! But you trying to escape is not so easy to twist into a pleasing fantasy of his.

It’s much harder to understand why you’re ceaselessly trying to break open the windows of the estate, to the point where your knuckles bleed and your elbows bruise. It’s harder to understand why you try to work at the lock keeping the main doors sealed, your poor fingernails splitting and aching from all the tugging and pulling.

He’s not sure why you’re going through so much trouble – surely there must be easier ways to get his attention. Surely there must be less painful and pitiful methods to get him fawning over you and proving his dedication to you – so why aren’t you taking them? Why are you choosing this difficult path, one that makes him apprehensive to leave you alone for more than thirty seconds?

(Not that that’s the only reason he’s hesitant to leave you alone – his clinginess and desire for your physical touch is the bulk majority – but it’s still a major player.)

And when he asks you, with his arms wrapped around your abdomen, your own arms flailing and your legs kicking at anything you can reach, your answer will have him pausing for a moment, an unwelcome feeling of reality washing back over him.

Because I hate being here, I want to go home! Please, let me go home!

His spine goes straight at that, his eyes widening ever so slightly, your punches and kicks to his shoulders and thighs doing nothing to faze him. You want… to go home? But aren’t you already home, by his side?

His grip tightens on you, a sort of displeased hum ringing in your ears. He’s carrying you away from the front doors and down the convoluted hallways of the estate, his grip on you never weakening.

Your words repeat over and over in his head, each replay confusing him more and more. You aren’t happy being here? With him? He bites his lip, bright eyes glancing down at you in his arms, with big tears slipping down your cheeks and your shoulders shaking with poorly concealed sobs.

This doesn’t seem like an attempt at gaining his attention – why would you go through such lengths? In all his time of falling in love with you, he’s never known you to be such a good actor.

Your tears look real, as does the sound of your voice when you whisper his name and weakly pound your fist against his chest, begging him to let me go home, I can’t be here any longer, I can’t stand it!

He sets you down onto the bed of the bedroom he’s brought you into – the bedroom where he forces you to sleep beside him, your nightclothes sticking to your skin with the heat that radiates from his body and the sheer proximity his forced cuddling creates.

He’ll watch as you scramble away from him, curling your knees to your chest and looking up at him with such raw, pained eyes, and for a moment it makes Kyojuro’s heart clench, genuine regret rushing through him.

Has he made you this upset? Is he the reason for your anguish? It makes something heavy and uncomfortable settle into his chest, and it’s that driving force that pushes him to come closer to you, matching your every scoot away from him with a step towards you.

Eventually your back hits the wall and he kneels before you, his face mere inches from your own.

Tell me, my flame, why are you so displeased?

His question makes you gulp, but before you can stop yourself your mouth is already moving, every repressed thought and emotion you’ve felt the last few weeks you’ve been stuck with him finally coming to light.

Because you’re a monster! You’ve kidnapped me and forced me into being your wife, and you have the audacity to ask me why I’m upset? I can’t stay with you, Kyojuro, not here, not anywhere! We aren’t in love – you’re mistaken, I don’t love you and whatever this is, it’s not love, so don’t tell me you love me! Please, just let me return to my home and family, I beg of you.

You cut yourself off with a small sob, and as your eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, your blood runs cold when they reopen.

You’ve never seen Kyojuro look like this – gone is that familiar grin of his, instead replaced with a harsh, straight, tight lipped expression. His eyes no longer hold any of the warmth and adoration he normally gazes at you with – rather, they seem unbearably cold, the heavy weight of his stare making you shrink in on yourself despite your rather brave speech. And something about his presence feels much larger than you’ve ever experienced it – it’s in this moment that you realize just how defined and huge the muscles he’s sporting across his upper and lower body are, the man before you holding more strength in his pinky finger than you in all of your body.

It’s crushing, the sick, horrible feeling that something is terribly wrong making your every hair stand on end, your breath ragged as you wait for his next move. Kyojuro nods slowly, his expression not changing.

I see.

You bite your lip, anxiety making a pit form in your stomach.

You need to be reminded of what’s important, my flame. You’ve become misguided – but don’t fret, I will help guide you back to the path. This will hurt, but with time you’ll understand my actions and perhaps even thank me for them.

His words have red flags raising immediately in your mind, but before you can really even process your own questions, his hand is shooting out grasping on of yours, fingers pressing against the pad of your index finger and pushing pushing pushing –

There’s a sickening crunch noise that fills your ears, and everything feels numb for a moment before white-hot, acute agony rushes through you, your finger already swelling and throbbing from the broken bone now within it.

Kyojuro watches as you sob harder, your eyes red and puffy as you look at him, your gaze weak and, quite frankly, pitiful. He only takes a deep breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before moving to the next finger, a matching crunch sound only making you cry harder.

Eventually, each finger on your left hand is broken, his hands already moving to start on your right. He’s quick about each break, not letting the pain linger any longer than absolutely necessary, but it doesn’t matter.

By the time he finishes with your right thumb, you’re nearly numb from the pain, your tears having run dry as you shake and jerk with every hiccup and sob that wracks your frame. The sight hurts Kyojuro, truly – and he’ll tell you as much.

Shh, oh my flame, don’t cry – I know it hurts terribly, but so does my heart. Do you see now? Do you see that I love you? I’m showing you that our love is real and pure – I will nurse you back to your proper health. I will be your hands when you cannot touch, and I will stay at your bedside every free moment to keep you company and ensure a quick recovery. Do you understand now? This is your home – no one can care for you in the way that I can.

His voice is soft, with a certain condescending lilt to it that only makes you dumbly nod, the pain still rendering you numb to your surroundings. And as Kyojuro carefully picks you up once more, moving you to your shared futon and gently tucking you under the covers, he’ll quickly gather some small sticks and medical gauze, wrapping each finger and cooing at you all the while.

And as he places a kiss onto each finger tip once its wrappings are complete, you’ll find yourself considering his words.

The conviction to individually break each finger of your lover is certainly no joke – perhaps he could be correct? Is this love?

Is the way he'll carefully feed you your meals as your wounds heal a sign of his truly undying feelings for you?

Is the way he bathes you (with wandering hands and stuttered breaths) a sign that he does truly care for you?

Is the way he helps you use the restroom without the use of your own hands a sign that he’ll truly stand by your side through darkness and light?

Your brain screams no, every ounce of your independence fighting the stream of questions, but some part of you finds comfort in the notion, in believing Kyojuro when he says that he loves you.

And as the days pass and your injuries slowly heal, your captor’s constant presence by your side helping to keep you clean, healthy and well fed, you’ll find that part of you growing louder and louder, drowning out your mind.

Because really, does it even matter? Kyojuro Rengoku is a man of dedication and unwavering devotion – and if he wants you to love him, isn’t it only a matter of time before he succeeds?

After all, who are you to stand your ground in the face of someone like him?

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Kyojuro isn’t necessarily dangerous, or at least in the sense of being a threat to your life. He’s clingy and needy and out of touch with reality, of course, but he doesn’t enjoy the notion of hurting you. He’s willing to, if it’s his only choice, but you’ll never need to worry that any hidden sadistic tendencies of his will emerge. He’ll never suddenly develop the desire to see you cry, nor will he suddenly discard you should his feelings dissipate.

Once his infatuation begins, Kyojuro is committed to making sure that you stay healthy, happy, and – most importantly – by his side.

He’s convinced that he’s the one that can make you happy, that he can give you the most perfect, loving future, filled with laughter, kisses, stolen touches and even a few children with bright yellow and red hair running around the estate.

He’s convinced that he can make you happy, that he already does make you happy, and it will be extremely difficult to snap him out of this fantasy he’s created for the two of you.

He’s an influential man with extreme importance, and you’d be extremely hard pressed to find anyone who would even believe you if you were to somehow escape him, if you were to somehow catch on to his nefarious intentions before he’s stolen you away.

It’s the combination of being surrounded by death, and a yearning to be happy and build a loving family that pushes him to pursue you, developing a future with you feeling so fucking important that he simply can’t resist the drive to court you, to wed you, to see your gorgeous smile and the pretty golden ring with flames engraved on it around your finger.

He’s simply a man in love, and if that love means his hands on your body, pulling you closer and closer and closer until you can hardly breath, so be it.

It’s only natural for something as powerful as love to create such a strong devotion, and isn’t it oddly romantic, in a way? To know that someone as powerful, important and revered as Kyojuro is in love with little old you?

Doesn’t it make you feel good to know you have the Flame Pillar wrapped around your finger, that he’d get on his knees for you at just the merest flutter of your lashes?

He’s truly in love, so embrace it with open arms – he sure is, and things will be much, much better for you the sooner you accept the love he’s so frantically delivering to you.

#yandere kny #yandere rengoku #_kny #_kyojuro rengoku #yandere kyojuro rengoku #yandere demon slayer

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