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unluckiestmember · 1 year

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Chainsaw Man x Short/Shy! Reader

Characters: Aki Hayakawa, Angel Devil, Kishibe, Denji and Yoshida Hirofumi

Tags: Fluff, teasing, established relationships, fluff, tolerance training, did I mention fluff?

Warnings: None. SFW.

A/N: It should have not taken me this long to make this. *slaps self on the wrist*. One of my favorites!

Aki Hayakawa

“Huh? I was laughing? Sorry. I just realized something about how short you are?… I’m not making fun of you. It’s just- Nevermind.”

Aki finds you to be kind of cute, but he would never say that in public, he has a reputation to keep of course. One thing he really loves about you is how short you are compared to him, finding it cute when you look up at him to ask questions or when you want a kiss.

He also loves how shy you can be, though sometimes he would prefer it if you weren’t so careful with what you want to say or do. At home, your nature was perfectly fine, but at work? He could tell it was something that could get you killed or force you to partake in missions you shouldn’t be participating in.

Aki can put up a front, but everyone knows that he cares deeply about you even if he doesn’t display PDA as much compared to his colleagues. Even Himeno makes fun of the fact that he’s so in love with you! All in all, he thinks you are the cutest and sweetest thing he’s ever met. But he won’t say that out loud. Nope. Never… But behind closed doors-

Angel Devil

“Wanna get ice cream after this mission?… Huh? Speak up. I can’t hear you… Still can’t hear you.”

Angel Devil loves your shy nature, but he’s also someone who wants you to grow out of it. He feels that due to you being so bashful you could be taken advantage of by the Public Safety, including Makima. And if it isn’t by your coworkers, it will definitely be by the world around you. So he loves to ask you questions and hear you give him an answer loud and proud, even if that is a rarity.

When he isn’t trying to gracefully mold you out of love, Angel finds your height to be a bit comforting due to being one of the shortest males in his group of colleagues. He doesn’t make fun of your height or is the kind of person to say you’re cute when you get mad because of your figure. Instead, he treats you with a higher respect compared to everyone in Public Safety, viewing you not just as his lover and co-worker, but also as his friend.

Outside of your personality possibly being a target for foes, Angel Devil loves everything about you.

Kishibe

“… Yeah. I’m gonna keep you.”

Kishibe is a bit of a weird man, usually keeping his emotions on lockdown and focusing mainly on his missions at hand in Public Safety. He seems like the kind of man who doesn’t have time for romance and lives deeply in the past, meaning his heart might still be hung on Quanxi.

But actually? He’s a bit of a sweetheart.

Though he’s a man of action, not a man of words. He doesn’t put his relationship with you in front of the world unless he feels threatened by someone in his Division. But even then, he knows how you can be around people and even himself, so he treads lightly in hopes of not scaring you off. It doesn’t make it any better that you are significantly shorter than him. So he just feels himself taken aback by your height difference and sometimes sees you not as a toy, but a plush that should be protected and kept at all costs.

Even if his communication skills could use a bit of tweaking along with his advances, he adores you and wants to protect you no matter what.

Denji

“Hey, uh, wanna cuddle again?… No, work was fine, I just uh, wanna hold you again. I like how I can easily wrap my arms around you and how you fit against me and… Stuff.”

Short, tall, loud or quiet, Denji does not give a damn as long as he’s getting some love! And boy do you give him love!

He’s like a big puppy when it comes to you, loving you in any way shape or form. He adores how bashful you are, even if sometimes it makes him think he’s said or done something wrong. It doesn’t make it better that when you are affectionate with him, he just. Melts. He stares at you like you are the creator of the world around him, like a divine entity that must be loved and respected for eternity.

When it comes to being short, Denji finds this to be his favorite trait about you since he can easily do things he’s seen in movies, tv and manga he wants to try out on you. He’ll twirl you around when he’s happy. He’ll help you reach for objects to grab without ridiculing you. He’ll bend down eagerly to kiss you on your lips. And he will definitely hold you so close and tight to his body when you sleep together.

You are so precious to him. Words just can’t describe how much he loves you…

Yoshida Hirofumi

“Can I get a kiss?… You missed… Oh, you missed again. Missed. Hey, what’s going on with your aim?”

Yoshida can be a bit of a goofball dating you. He thinks you are cute as a shy soft bean in his eyes, but he will try to push you out of your comfort zone gently with his actions.

He can be playful, pushing you to initiate some moments between you two and even forcing you to speak up. But trust me when I say he’s not just getting off to you having to take the first step. If he wants to hold and kiss you and partake in cute activities with you, he will.

Though he can be a comedian of sorts, he makes sure that you are safe away from his job. He knows because of your personality that if you were to get in the middle of his work you could get hurt. And if you ever got hurt? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself… As his lover, you mean so much to him even if he gives off casual dating energy. Just ask him. And he’ll tell you how special you are.

He loves you. Don’t forget that.

Chainsaw Man requests are currently open! :D

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, be safe and have a good day! <3

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blueparadis · 4 months

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❝EBB & FLOW❞ + KISHIBE.

+. CWs —» f!reader, age gap, mention of death and loss, angst and grief undertones, smut [lactation k!nk, f!ngering,f!receiving]. 1kish wc

+. PRECIS —» “i don't smoke except for when I am missing you.”

+. NOTES —» partly based on this. \\ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED \\back to blog navigation

Kisibe takes a strong full drag from his freshly lit cigarette as he stands before the grave. It is littered, cans and plastic bags have accumulated nearby yet wildflowers, grasses, and lush moss have sprouted from the plaque hiding the name of the dead. He does not even know why he is standing here or taking the smoke break at this particular graveyard, in front of this particular grave. A man with a profession like his should not dwell on collateral damage. He does not even know the name. He just knew that this dead person was one of Quanxi’s partners before he came along. He wonders, if death makes people forgetful, is it okay to forgive too? He wonders if death comes so easy, so abrupt and so unexpected, then why won't it take him? Would he be forgiven if he no longer visited this grave with two cigarettes in his hand: one burning and the other intact in the memory of someone?

The wind is heavier today. The cigarette is burning faster than it does when he is usually around you, in your small yet cozy apartment — spending hours on paperwork and training you. A smile breaks like a plague on Kisibe’s face stretching his scar, haunted by the memories of his last training session with you. How you pecked on his cheeks, looked at him with so much yearning in your eyes when he was getting too worked up about the pattern of Makima's recruitments for devil hunters.

He asked, “What was that for?” and you stammered, smiled bashfully, and failed to come up with a proper answer to his satisfaction.

“I just. . .I don’t know. . . intrusive thoughts . . . maybe—” It distracted him so quickly, so unexpectedly, and so deeply that he ended up grabbing your cheeks and kissing you back because it is really troublesome if you get intrusive thoughts like this around everyone.

You let him like the whirlwind gushes into the corners of a building, even the loneliest corners of it and thus crumbling it into pieces. Your heart shattered moments ago, a panging pain building up inside your chest knowing full well how stupid it was to kiss him, to want him. But those thoughts start to whither as you feel his strong grab over your cheeks, his smoky bitter, tobacco-tasting lips. You feel like crying, knowing what you did was wrong and what he is doing is wrong too.

But when Kisibe effortlessly drags you onto his lap, you start drowning in maybe(s) and what if(s).

Maybe he knew all along . . .

What if he wanted this all along . . .

Maybe he is doing it because he is lonely. . .

What if he stops your training . . .

Kisibe starts kissing down your neck, his lips trailing soft and dry kisses all over your chest before he licks your collarbones. He can recognize the scent of your body lotion, it's sweet and candy-like, has a nice essence to it, and makes him wanna bite you but all he does is to proceed further down your body making you whimper. The more he goes down on you, the longer your moans elevate like a progression of a piano, not loud just prettier. When he finally has his lips near your boobs just along the lining of your dress, he peppers kisses around your perked nipples over the cloth that makes you bite your bottom lip, and you stop moaning.

Raw and pure pleasure radiates out of your body as his fingers roam all over your body sneaking under your tunic, touching you between your legs. To his surprise, you are wearing pants. He has always known; and felt that you nurtured certain affection towards him and by that, he was always under the impression that you would at least try to sleep with him within the first two months of your training. But that did not happen, not even when he took you out for drinks to celebrate your first mission after completion.

Still, it was a memorable night.

maybe. . . what if. . .maybe . . .what if. . .

Those thoughts come and go, like the ebb and flow of sea-waves on a stormy night but die as background noise as you hear him groaning as his kisses trace back from your boobs to beneath your ears. Now, his kisses are wet, strong, and full of soft groans. When his fingers dive into your cunt he feels how aroused you are. It makes his scar stretch with a sense of odd triumph blending with curiosity. The prolonged groan that escapes from his mouth makes him pull away, taking a breather as he ravishes the sight in front of him: you, on his lap, clothed too much in this summer heat, eyes closed and lips warped under your teeth as his fingers dig further inside of you. His eyes trail off down to your body, over your bosom, the white tunic that perfectly pronounces your perked nipples. A short whimper from you reaches his ears like a piano key on a high note and the next moment his lips circled around your taut nipple, his other hand that supported your waist has now curled and moved upwards to remove your tunic exposing one of your boobs. You moan, loud and shameless, like piano keys being played at a stretch all at once.

Your chest heaves at a faster rhythm, breathing heavier than before, hands that rested on his shoulders are now awake, palms curling into fists, wrinkling his shirt as you start wetting and biting your lips every now and then. Kishibe realizes that this is what you have been so melodious and outspoken about. You are feeling it to the fullest, not even bothered by how rough your grip is on his shoulders. His mouth on your nipple, lips sucking with full might, tongue flicking it while the other is being neglected. It tastes different than your lips; your lips have flavor, sometimes candy, sometimes strawberry, and sometimes minty; but your nipples? they have your taste, your scent;

He knows it is gonna taste different, he thinks he knows this because you always offer him toffees and chocolates. Kisibe takes it after protesting a little... He does not wanna create a crack in your heart. Because when there is a crack, there is always light, a hope. He keeps saying that he is too old for shit like this yet he takes it. He might never get to confirm how your lips taste, given that this would be the only intimate moment he shares with you.

A shrill screech from his own mouth pulls him back into reality. He watches the fire of his cigarette dying as it lies on the ground beside the grave. “Geez! what’s gotten into me,” he mumbles in frustration feeling his slacks tighten as he walks out of the graveyard. He should not have kissed you back. He should not have pursued his curiosity. He should have just left you, right there, breaking your heart. Too much light burns everything. Yeah! why didn’t he think of that? But

maybe. . . what if. . .maybe . . .what if. . .

—

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thevirgincherry · 2 months

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BOILING POINT !

ft. kishibe x fem!reader

tags. he puts his cigarette out on ur tits, degradation, public sex, a little voyeurism, idk he uses you as furniture, painal duh, reader is a dummy ngl, cockwarming

note. COMM FOR @d10nyx LOVE U NYX MWAH!!! love u sm sorry I didn’t get to post this for ur bday and that I took so fucking long but omg I hope u like it and i didn’t go too far with it :3 ignore any mistakes :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated .. praying this gets put in the tags :3

The thing is, Kishibe is fond of women. All women are beautiful unless they come in the form of carnivorous beasts. He likes a classic red lip, soft thighs, nylon stockings and heels. He likes Quanxi because she’s strong and it’s as simple as that. She wouldn’t go dying on him. Kishibe dislikes girls who play pretend. For example, the intern, a sad pillowcase of a girl who lacks savoir-faire. What a joke, and to place her in his division, under his care— It’s just offensive.

You put on an act, put on that ugly suit - it drapes over your form as if you’re more of a clothing hanger than a human. Shapeless and inelegant like you’ve gone and dug out your father's suit. The Public Safety uniform does you no justice, a skirt would be better. One that violates the dress code by an inch, but you slip past the radar ‘cause you’re so plain.

You’re of no use to Kishibe, he has no qualms saying it to your face. To your credit, you beg real pretty, beg like you’re begging for your life. That you’ll do anything. Anything, sir! Anything to keep down this shitty job!

Women are sluts when you force them to be sluts, but you don’t even need the slightest push. He knows your type. Show a girl like you a nice dick and you’re all over it. Not cut out for work, not cut out for anything exerting, not Public Safety of all things in this piece-of-shit world. You’d make a nice footstool, or better yet, an ashtray.

So he makes you exactly that.

Aki deposits a pile of paperwork onto his desk, didn’t have the courtesy to knock, just entered. Politeness is null and void it seems.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks flatly.

“New intern.” Kishibe makes an abstract gesture to where you’re standing at his side trembling and draped in only his trench coat. Organic coat rack. Cute, right? “Thought I’d make use of her.”

“You’re messed up,” Aki says, expression-wise he's indifferent.

He stubs his cigarette out on your tit. Look at that. Built-in ashtray. You whimper, of course you whimper, it hurts. Skin charing off in flakes, blistering in grotesque bubbles when he tosses the butt into your awaiting palms. His mark is indelible, one of searing discomfort that settles in the depths of your being, it crawls beneath your rattling bones to wear your skin.

“Huh, that’s funny, I must be hearing things.” Kishibe lights another, the flame glows yellow like tiger eyes. “Even the walls talk in this place.”

Aki’s delicate distaste is thinly veiled, a shudder courses through his frame, starting with the jerk of his head and ending with his clenched fists. He turns swiftly, the door thudding behind him, absence suspending the room in a momentary vacuum. The silence is profound.

“Friendly guy.” Kishibe’s getting too old, talking to coat stands. He’s not much of a chain smoker, but today he is. No particular reason. Just felt like it.

The ember is rounded and tiny, the flame licks at the edges of your consciousness until you see black. It’s a uniquely insidious pain, one that consumes your body in a sweeping inferno, the ache will linger - a testament to your time with Kishibe. Lucky you. By the fourth, the floodgates of restraint collapse, you could only hold on for so long. Your body surrenders to gravity, stumbling forward as you clutch at the sturdiness of his mahogany desk. Crumpled neatly like you’ve been put through a waste compactor.

Kishibe sighs. “What a shame.” His gaze is vacant as he gives you a once-over. “I should kick your teeth in for that.”

It’s as if the sparks from his cigarettes have gone to your head. The whites of your eyes barely visible as they widen like two shiny buttons, struck with a sudden clearheadedness.

“You can do that, sir.” It’s not an offer to accept or deny, but an open-handed invitation signed off with an RSVP that reeks of desperation.

“You’d like it too much.” His hand passes over the back of his rumpled jacket, it slips from your shoulders and falls with a muted thud. Truly, you’re useless. Nothing more, nothing less. There’s nothing less than useless.

“No, sir, I wouldn’t.” You shake your head so fast his vision blurs. Starts seeing double. The prospect of more than one you has him reeling. What a nightmare.

“No?” Kishibe cocks his head to the side. “I don’t think you could handle it.” He waves his hand dismissively as if you’re a cloud of smoke or a hallucination, a bad dream he’d like to get rid of.

“I could, I can, sir, please.” Your hands are clasped together in a prayer. “I can take it, promise.”

“Either way, I don’t think you deserve it.” He eyes the rawness of your burns, otherwise smooth skin raised in nasty bumps. You reach out to touch him, fingers outstretched as you trace the column of his neck. He doesn’t know what you’re so enamoured by. “Down, girl.”

“Sorry, sir.” You’re not sorry, chapped lips pressed together to hide a giddy smile.

The paperwork is set to the side, desk cleared as he sits you down. It’s not urgent, but then again, neither are you. Pussy is always a nice treat though. Kishibe thumbs the seam of your cunt and your puffy lips part. You sure know how to make a guy feel special. God, you’ve got him feeling like Moses down here. Parting the Red Sea or some shit. He’s clinical about it. Inspecting your pussy like he’s getting paid for this.

A pleased sigh is let out from above, your jaw slackens as he brushes over your swollen clit. “I like you, sir—“ you say between stuttered breaths, “I think y-you’re real— really handsome.”

That’s a new one. Grizzled and weathered and scarred. Nothing handsome about that. It doesn’t exactly bother him. It’s just objective. “Right.”

“It’s true.” You gasp when he flicks your clit, toes curling in your black socks. “And you smell nice.” Indecent fingers wriggle and curl around his wrist, trying to get him to dig deeper. “I want you in me.” Then as if clarity hits you, a feeble Please, sir.

He snorts. “Fat chance.” Kishibe draws his hand back, your slick webbed between his fingers.

“Why?” You whine, trembling at the loss of his touch. “Sir, I’ll be quiet, I won’t say a word, I promise.” Your voice is grating on him. “Pinky promise.”

“Stop that.” Kishibe wipes his fingers on your pout. “Looks stupid.”

“Just my face.” Your frown deepens.

“Well, you should fix your face, kid. Why don’t you try smiling.” A command, not a question. “Much better,” Kishibe hums, “keep smiling and you might get something out of me.”

(You really won’t. Kishibe just gets off on this. It’s kinda funny how willing you are to bend to his every need, not quite needs but wants.)

More cigarettes. Circular intrusions left on the flesh of your thighs, he’d like to put one out on your clit. You’d feel hot-white, see hot-white, taste hot-white. Might meet God. Or a devil as he cauterises your weeping cunt. Maybe he’s going to meet both the Genital Mutilation Devil and his timely end.

Lunchtime rolls around, he empties a flask of whiskey into his coffee to beat the sluggish midday heat. You’re tucked beneath his desk now, pressing your nose between his thighs, sniffing around like a police dog on the right track. Kishibe lets you because it’s not much of a bother. “Might as well put that mouth to work.”

“Really, sir?” You ask, eyes like twin beacons.

“Yeah, go on then.” He pats your head. “No hands,” Kishibe adds, and they drop to your side instantly, teeth clasping onto his zipper and tugging it downwards in a jagged procession.

This is the most lackadaisical approach to cocksucking Kishibe has ever seen. And trust him, he has thirty-odd years of experience— This takes the cake for the worst. What you lack in technique you do not make up for in enthusiasm. It might just be ‘cause he’s soft, his mind detaches from the notion of anything inherently sexual. He’s thinking about what he should have for dinner tonight. If there’s anything in the fridge. That fat cat he has to feed.

There’s gagging, spluttering, a lewd pop! A sad and sorry end to a sloppy blowjob. You cough. A wet rattle deep in your chest.

“Not your strong suit,” he muses.

“I need your help, sir.” Your lips are swollen, spit-slicked. “Can’t do it on my own.” It begs the question, what are you good at? What can you do on your own?

He sighs for the nth time, takes his shaft in his hand and guides it past your parted lips, a messy ordeal, teeth scraping over the velvety skin of his cock, spit pooling in your mouth and dribbling down your chin when his cock rests weighty on your tongue.

It’s big, your cheek bulges when the tip nudges the inside of your mouth. Kishibe shifts course, pushes his cock so deep it hits the back of your throat, and your nails ziiip against the leather of his office chair.

“Is that too much?” He asks, making no move to ease up on the windpipe abuse. Your lips have stretched so far the corners of your mouth might split, you let out a noise of discomfort. Kishibe pays it no mind, his dick only gets heavier the moment it begins to harden. He places a hand on the back of your head, forces you to take his cock right to the base by pinning you into place. You swallow around him, and it’s the only good thing you’ve done since you got here.

There’s the garbled complaint of your jaw aching. “I don’t know what you’re saying,” Kishibe tells you, the derisive curl of his lip draws a soft whine from the back of your shredded throat. On his terms, you’ll last until the end of the workday. That’s what you’re here for, right? A job. He’s given you one and you’re not even doing it well. Sucking dick is second nature to women. Evidently not you.

You last till the end of his shift— Barely. Hanging on by a thread. Most of your lipstick has rubbed off on his dick, splotches of red deep in the creases of your dry lips. The fatigue of being cramped beneath his desk for so long weighs your body down, languidly shrugging on your jacket, your white shirt gaps when you button it up. He hadn’t noticed that before, but he does now.

“I’ll be better tomorrow,” you promise.

“Alright,” he says, noncommittal.

“Not tomorrow— I’m not in tomorrow actually so on Wednesday. I’ll be better on Wednesday.” You take hold of his arm and for some reason, he lets you. Human connection is not something he values especially, but sometimes it’s nice.

“Sure.” Kishibe shrugs. “I’ll hold you to your word.”

The commute to and from work is endless. This time it’s particularly endless, the outside world blurring into monochromatic plains as the train follows its usual path.

Sometimes you wish for it to derail and throw your body into the atmosphere. Just for fun. Anything to break up the mundanity of slate-coloured metropolitan life.

The confined space in the carriage has Kishibe’s front curved into your back, his hands in his pockets. An attempt at small talk fails to bridge the gap between the two of you. He’s so disinterested. Aren’t old men meant to like young girls? Are you really that ordinary? That even men one orgasm away from a heart attack are totally unbothered by the swell of your ass pressing up against their clothed dicks? Like, um, hello!

“You’re pushing it, you know that?” His breath is hot on your skin, he’s tall enough to obscure you from the view of any onlookers as you grip the metal pole. A few briefcases click shut, patent leather dress shoes scuffing across the flat floors as the train nears the next station.

Empty seats outnumber occupants by this point, there’s no need for Kishibe to be so close, but he is and that makes you happy. Makes your pussy happy too. Throbs like crazy. If you’re going to work alongside him, you’ll need to bring a change of panties in your handbag. ‘Cause you’ve been wet since he first entered the room.

He’s more rugged than handsome, but that’s what makes him hot. You see the start of a pretty face under the thickness of his worn and torn skin, it’s undercut by his square jaw, the skin under his eyes seems to burrow back into his face with how deep those bags are. God, you need him. Stat. Now if you don’t mind, sir.

When you exit, you don’t expect to hear heavy footfall right behind you. For a moment you think it’s the echo of your shoes in the derelict station, it’s like a gaping cavern, but you’re light on your feet - learnt to make yourself scarce.

Taking a peek over your shoulder would ruin the surprise. If it’s not Kishibe you might throw a fit. Unless whoever’s following you is, like, Kimura Takuya. You wouldn’t mind that at all. What a dreamboat. Still, there’s not even a 0.001% chance it’s him (you don’t exactly remember seeing him on the commute). There is a 99.99% chance it’s Kishibe. So you’ll go with the latter.

You duck into a nearby alleyway and he does too. Well, it’s an assumed he. If it’s a she you hope it’s the busty chick with the eyepatch that made eyes at you in the hallway as you tried to match Miss Makima’s brisk pace.

“I told you not to push it.” It’s Kishibe.

Yay! You internally cheer as he pushes you into the crumbling brick wall, your handbag drops onto the ground as your fist unfurls. Palms flat on the burnt clay, your breath hitches when he makes quick work of your pants, thick fingers forcing their way beneath the tight waistband. They’re perfectly fitted so there’s not even an inch of space, no room for lunch when you’re wearing these. The button pops and you mourn the loss of your nicest piece of clothing. Nothing a big dick can’t fix.

(Dick can’t fix the pants though. Duh.)

“I should teach you how to keep your hands to yourself,” Kishibe says lowly. His apathy is unfortunately really fucking hot. And it has to be front. It has to be. Or he wouldn’t have gone through the effort of disrupting his usual route home. You must’ve gotten him hot and bothered. His dick is hard. So there’s that.

He spits on your ass, it trickles down your crack and does a shitty job at lubing anything up. Your pussy is so wet you could take two or three dicks with ease. Kishibe doesn’t have to waste precious, precious spit that should be dripped down your throat like ambrosia. He spreads you wide, big hands grabbing handfuls of your soft ass. When you close your eyes, you see his cock, it’s tattooed on your eyelids. Seriously. His shit is big, and you wouldn’t expect anything less from a man of his size. The tip is dark, uncut on the fat, his balls hang low— Oh, he’s putting it in your ass, you realise a moment too late.

Suppressing a soft cry, your head drops forward as the pain splinters through your body with each agonising inch of his fat cock in your tighter hole. “Daddy,” you whimper, nails fighting to stay on your nail beds as you scratch at the wall.

“Don’t call me that,” Kishibe says, and his dick gives one last punishing push as he sinks into you fully.

“Sorry, sir.” Your sniffling is cut short by him shoving his fingers into your warm mouth. His dick is mean. You’re all like uh, uh, unfff, uh! You sound pretty fucking stupid, but he is practically punching all those noises out of you. It feels nice to be split in half. When you ignore the sickening spark of raw pain in your gut that is. He’s whisking your guts into a mixture of acid and bloody chunks.

Kishibe’s fairly quiet, the occasional grunt when he draws his hips back so the tip is in your fluttering hole, only to slam back in and knock you forward ‘cause you’re a klutz and dick in your dry ass is sorta disorientating.

“I love it, sir,” you tell him anyway. You’ve always been a bit of a bootlicker. Relying on flattery to get you into people's good books. It’s worked up until now. Kishibe is a nut you can’t even crack with a nutcracker, or a paring knife, not even with a goddamn hammer. “I love it so much, I love—“ His fingers run over your gums, pulling on your tongue for only a second before he takes them out to wipe on the back of your white blouse.

When he cums, you smell the whiskey on his breath as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Thank you, sir, thank you so much—“ You turn your head in search of his lips, he taps your cheek sharply and zips his slacks up in typical Kishibe fashion. Unhurried, slow, doesn’t really care about being caught with his pants down. A cigarette is lit, the glow of the ember reflects in his charcoal eyes like liquid gold.

Put that out on my clit, sir. Obviously, you don’t say that in fear of your clit never ever working again, and you quite like your clit to be honest. She’s gotten you through a lot of stressful situations.

His load has started to leak out of you, drying on your skin. Thick and sticky and heavy like his dick. Your cunt still throbs when you hold your ruined pants in place, they’ll be slipping down for the remainder of the walk home. Kishibe didn’t let you cum. He hasn’t let you cum all day. How selfish. You’ll rub one out when you get to your place. Christ, you think you love him.

#csm smut #chainsaw man smut #kishibe smut #kishibe x reader #kishibe x y/n #kishibe x you #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader

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nc-vb · 1 month

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧?

originally a commission, repurposed for readervision! writing about the ladies is fun and i should really do it more often, mhm.

notes -> pls i always forget she's 6'1", that's so frickin hot, my gawd

pairing -> quanxi x afab!time-traveler!reader*

warnings -> nsfw (18+, mdni), praise/nicknames used (*good girl), thigh riding, oral sex (reader receiving), orgasm denial, scissoring/tribbing; partial inebriation (alcohol consumption); light editing.

wc -> 4.5k

The modes of transportation in this place are… dated.

So used to seeing the various Tesla models zipping about, or the suddenly extremely common Honda Civic models, you found yourself staring a little harder at the ones that lined the street. All too obviously, the dilapidated street signs around you indicated your new location being somewhere in China. Still, there’d been an aged familiarity about the place, about all of it, from the specific way the splits in the sidewalk crackle from one end to the other, to how the trees willow overtop of them like old, gnarled hands. The glow from the street lights are all equally dull, and do little to highlight the filth the asphalt roads hold. The houses, in their decaying, years left untouched glory, are still cookie cutter enough to say that it once might’ve been a place that people both lived and thrived in— if anything, they might just exist there now. The bare minimum for any species.

But then you look in the distance, past the caved-in roofs, past the loose, swaying electrical lines and through the smog, find the fluorescent lights of the city resting just outside the horizon of this dystopian suburbia, and find that you feel at home, your own having been bright just like that.

You suppose that being at arms with a stranger in the middle of what you can only deem some kind of cacotopia must not be real. A dream or a hallucination— a nightmare, perhaps. The fact that you’ve never been to this place, this time or era, and yet, it’d been familiar. This partial hell scape with its scarred roads and patchwork housing, stuck in its darkened stasis of a temporary ceasefire? Wondering what kind of dream beasts this realm holds was unavoidable from the start, but at the very least, it still includes those in human form.

Your foe is formidable-- or, your predator, you should say. Armed thrice and practically naked in consideration for their lack of armour, wearing a thin shirt that exposes her midriff and tight black trousers, and with their one eye obscured by an eyepatch, they’re still as swift as a shadow when they charge forward, one blade extended, the other held in reverse against their forearm— usually a predictability. But they’re enough of a threat to you that you don’t bother to analyze much else any further.

If not for obeying modern physics, the stone at your feet would’ve split from the impact of your own harsh landing— without a weapon or defense of your own, you scamper out of the way of the woman’s sword, gasping at the close call. If anything, being in this strange place for so long, and being targeted by strange looking creatures and even stranger humans, has made you adept at avoiding harm.

You’re not entirely sure you can avoid it any further. You watch the attacker sheathe their defending sword and reach up toward their one exposed eye to— to… extract an arrow from within her skull, so easily as if it’d been normal to “store” it there.

“Don’t lose focus now,” they call — she calls, you finally learn, from your own language; she’d recognized it when you’d cursed at her earlier. A couple of obvious tonal sounds and inflections double down on you being somewhere in China. “I’ll be disappointed if you suddenly let me kill you, stranger.”

Slim, yet muscular. Long blonde hair. A gaze most distant, yet she still smiles, even in the middle of battle. Human? With that ability of hers, it’s unlikely; you’ve learned to differentiate that much, as short a time as you’ve spent here.

Amidst their game of cat and mouse, you can’t help but wonder if the area had been evacuated prior to Quanxi’s arrival, as if she’d been prepared to give chase, or even worse, as if she’d been prepared to fight. You don’t doubt the possibility of the woman having some kind of pull or authority in this time; as perhaps unprepared and bare as she appears, her skillset had quickly been proven. Being locked in at a coward’s stalemate for as long as you’d been, Can’t this end already?

“Please,” you pant, a hand poised in a pleading gesture. “Please stop.” The woman’s one visible eyebrow raises, her expression remaining placid. A moment later, she’s sheathing her blades.

“That’s fine with me,” she says, straightening up. “I’m pretty fond of this outfit and I’ve already scuffed the knees; it would be a shame if I tore anything else. You seem like… the civilized type, when you’re not running away. And if that’s the case, we should introduce ourselves.”

You give yours first, eager to catch your breath. The woman smiles.

“I am Quanxi. Now, tell me. The name of the Devil you’ve contracted with.”

Your expression hardens. “Devil?” you repeat.

Quanxi does not doubt further the woman’s seemingly earnest confusion. She already looks like she’s not from the area, and certainly not necessarily a native from China, either. In fact, it’d been more like she’s stepped out of one of those futuristic, science fiction movies. Your entire existence did not belong here.

Your tired vision sweeps along the street before rising to stare at Quanxi. “Where is this place?”

Testing, “Do you mean this street? This… neighbourhood? Or this world?” You don’t answer, unable. The silence, accompanied with the difficult read on the foreigner’s partial expression, is an answer enough. “It’s called Earth.”

“I know this is Earth.”

Quanxi’s lip quirks. “Then this place that you’re currently standing in, is in China. And this street, well… I’m not sure the name matters anymore. No one’s lived here in years.”

She watches you, a silence spread taut like a fishing line through the middle of your conversation as you ponder, before cutting it.

“Listen. I’m glad you decided to stop running away,” your lip curls slightly at the curtness in her words, but you don't interrupt, “but since we’ve established that you’re not from the area, and since I don’t see a… spaceship… parked anywhere… you’re probably not an alien. But, you’ve also probably got nowhere to go, hm?”

“… that’s, unfortunately, correct,” you murmur, sighing. What a headache…

“And it doesn’t seem like you’re looking to cause any trouble. Right?”

“I’m kind of in some trouble of my own, if you haven’t noticed,” you point out.

“Fair enough. Then, I’ll do you a favour. If you’d be reasonable enough to not do something as stupid as try to murder me in my sleep, I’ll invite you into my home.”

Try? I could barely run away from you.

“I’ll have to attend to some business in the morning outside the country, but, if you’re a good girl tonight, you’re welcome to stay there while I’m gone.” Your lips part to speak at the woman’s condescension, but by the absurdity of your situation, you find yourself unable to spit the words dancing behind your teeth back at her. Good girl?

“Do you need a physical invitation?” Quanxi says; you hadn’t realized she’d already begun to walk, and soundlessly trails after her. “Good.” Again? “I’ve parked several blocks north of here; it’s about a five minute walk if you’re fast about it.”

“Okay.” True to her estimation, once they’d picked up their pace, they found a sleek black automobile awaiting them only four blocks away. Compared to the older modeled cars you’ve passed, this one is at least twenty years ahead of their design.

Quanxi enters on her side before you can even open the passenger side door, and by the time you sit and shut the door behind you, the car has already belted to life, a soft rumbling heard from within its metal shell. A gear shifts, and they move.

The drive out of the dark neighbourhood where you first appeared, and into the glowing city you’d seen from afar is about three times as long as the walk had been. The luminance of the artificial light happens to be intense enough to make you squint so hard that your eyes become slits.

“Depending on how long you’re here for, you might end up getting used to it,” Quanxi says. You turn your head toward her. “Ah, well, I shouldn’t assume you don’t have these in your own home; apologies. Just, don’t stare at these ones directly. They’re definitely not up to code.”

You nod, glancing forward again.

“You aren’t very… chatty, are you,” Quanxi speculates, lowering one of her hands from the wheel to rest in her own lap.

“It’s… hard to think of something to talk about in my situation,” you say, wringing your wrists a little. “Small talk and idle conversations… is even harder.”

“You could always ask more questions.”

“I… can’t think of any.”

“Or ask if I know of a way to return you to your home.”

“And do you?”

“No. I can do a lot, but time travel?” Quanxi scoffs lightly. “Science fiction, for now. Maybe there’s a Devil out there that can do that. But, you could still have bothered to begin that conversation to see if I did.”

You pause. “Is this all a condition of me staying with you? Talking, asking questions…”

“Not at all. Simply makes for better company.”

You scoff, too, and fold your arms over your chest. “Aren’t you worried I’ll destroy your home while you’re gone? Or rob you?”

Quanxi chuckles. “Not at all. You might be lonely when I do, however. By how you greeted me earlier tonight, I should at least make sure my housekeeper doesn’t spook you away into, I don’t know, jumping out the window.”

“If I didn’t value my life, I wouldn’t have run away from you like I did. Why would I jump out the window…” The question hangs in the air, apparently a rhetorical quip.

The rest of the drive is completed in one-sided silence, Quanxi filling it with her own voice when she explains, unwarranted, the existence of Devils and what she’d meant when she’d asked you about a “contract”. It does make sense (and perhaps your interest in the subject did prove that you did have some curiosities), but you still had found yourself verily unwilling to engage in conversation, leaving your thoughts to race wildly beneath your skull.

In contrast to the surrounding buildings, Quanxi’s is not nearly as vibrant. The only lights come from the large fixed windows pressed tight between the dark brickwork; signs of life that neighbourhood from before had sorely been missing. Even the streets, despite the time, are flooded with chattering humans.

“We’re here, get out,” Quanxi says, putting the car into park and exiting it, herself. You join her on the sidewalk, where she’d just given a man a set of keys. In the corner of her vision, you watch him replace where Quanxi once sat, and drive off with her car, while the two of you enter the building.

“I’m on the penthouse level,” she tells you after pressing a button on the wall of the elevator. “It’s nothing fancy. Comfortable enough when I come home from an assignment, and for my—” Quanxi goes silent. You notice, but don’t press. The elevator chimes, announcing their arrival to the topmost level, and the doors open. “This way.”

There’s a keypad on the door, for which Quanxi types a particularly long code into before it beeps at them to enter. Whereas you take off your own boots and set them aside, Quanxi toes hers off and kicks them to the side, knocking yours over.

“A drink?” Quanxi offers.

“… water is fine.”

The penthouse is minimalist and simple, as its owner mentioned it would be. A simple living area full of couches and irregularly shaped chairs; a simple bedroom, raised up, across the room in a loft space. The bathroom and kitchen end up being the fanciest of the space, full of shining metal appliances and smooth surfaces, as white as the moon, itself.

There are but a few adornments and decorations, and you find that across the apartment, there are only a handful of photographs framed and sitting atop a long cabinet, two of which had been turned down— you recall Quanxi doing so as she’d entered ahead of you. Not one to pry — you know just as well as anyone what dredging up old memories does to a person — and with Quanxi busying herself in her kitchen, you cross over to them and quickly tip them up. Both have the woman pressed between four other girls, all with varyingly unexplainable appearances — why are her brains exposed? — but they all easily express their fondness for Quanxi.

“It’s like you’ve never been invited into someone’s home before,” Quanxi suddenly calls from around the corner. You flinch, and without making eye contact, set the frames back down with care. “It should go without me having to say the words “don’t touch anything unnecessary”.”

“Sorry,” you say.

Quanxi sighs, and extends her arm to hand the stranger a glass of clear liquid. “It’s fine. Just don’t touch them again. And try not to get curious enough that you want to ask about… them.”

You accept the glass, nodding, and take a generous gulp from it, immediately reeling.

“This isn’t water,” you say, swallowing thickly, her throat catching from the burn.

“It’s baijiu. Figured you could probably use some to relax while you’re here.” You instantly cough.

“Relax?”

“It’s not like you’ll be able to figure anything out tonight, not this late. And, not if you’re still wired into fight or flight mode. Drink this. If you’re hungry, there’s food in the fridge you can help yourself to. The bathroom is around the corner. Go and shower. I’ll grab you a change of clothing.”

Not that it’d been so severely important to, but you silently admit to her observations. Being sent stuck here and almost immediately thrust into one-sided combat against this strange woman, to being invited to her home for reprieve, has kept you tiptoeing on a jagged edge, teetering more to one side than the other. It’s discomforting. Unfamiliar.

You down the clear liquid in the glass before stalking into Quanxi’s bathroom, quick to strip yourself of your clothing before stepping into the shower. Beginning to scrub away the day’s grime from your body with a sudsy cloth, you realize you’ve yet to feel this calm thus far— must be the baijiu, you assume.

With the glass of the shower all fogged up from the steam, you don’t notice Quanxi standing in the doorway when you finally exit it. Unfocused, the nude woman jumps, the towel in her hand almost slipping out of her grasp.

“I’m beginning to think,” you start, huffing out a flustered breath, “that you’re the lonely one between us.”

“Perhaps I am.” The ice in her own glass clinks against it when she takes a sip, watching you start to pat yourself dry. “I won’t argue with you. I never thought I would feel like this, even after losing them. They were only Fiends, after all. Not entirely human.”

“... does one have to be “entirely human” for someone to love them?”

“… I forgot who I was saying this to,” Quanxi muses, mostly to herself. “You’re young, after all. Insightfulness comes easier to each new generation of life.”

“Something like that,” you halfheartedly confirm, dragging the towel down each of your legs. You sigh— avoiding certain conversations may not be as easy as you’d once thought with this woman, the involvement of alcohol perhaps making it even more of a difficult probability. “Where I’m from… in my time… in my version of Earth, we don’t have different species of humans. But to be loved by anyone, by anything, even by someone non-human, is a joy, and an honour. Don’t justify them being Fiends so you don’t have to grieve over them. And… just be glad you can remember everything about them.”

She smiles back, but it’s distant; spurious. You know full well what the look is for, and decide it’s unfair to call the woman the only lonely one between them, after all.

Quanxi pushes herself off the door’s frame, stumbling very slightly out of her awkward stance.

“I was only in here for ten minutes. How did you manage to get drunk so quickly?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk,” Quanxi swears. “This is my first glass… and I’m a bit of a heavyweight. I just figure I should share some of my vulnerability with you since you’re naked in my home right now. Seems like a fair trade to me.”

You look up at her, having wrapped your head in the towel, and around the washroom.

“Your clothes. Right. I forgot to bring them in. They’re out here.”

“Could you go and grab them?”

“You’re coming back out here anyway, right? Just come and change out here.”

Your eyes narrow. The woman’s already seen her as nude as the day she’d been born, and from her own words, she now lives alone, the existence of those four girls in the photos seemingly otherwise erased from the apartment save for those photos. Being on the penthouse level on one of the tallest buildings around, it’d be unlikely for any of the neighbouring buildings to see—

“You’re overthinking it,” Quanxi calls out. “Is that something you do when you drink alcohol?”

Your attempt at sliding past her in the doorway fails, the taller of the two having lifted her arm to stop you.

“Is it?”

You sigh. Quanxi’s lip lifts into a small smile, and she drops her arm to let you pass and enter the kitchen.

“Is this where you assert yourself on me, and I lower myself into showing you my “gratitude”?” You slip on the folded burgundy tee from the counter, mentally cursing at the woman for supplying you with such a useless piece of fabric, the offending material barely reaching your navel; you shiver. “I’ve read enough fiction in my lifetime to recognize this cliché.”

“Then you must’ve read a crazy amount of sapphic erotica throughout your journey across the stars.” You shake your head and reach for the pants, ignoring Quanxi’s presence at your side. “No,” she answers, “though, I’m glad my intentions go without me having to say anything. A harmless, wordless invitation to share in a little bit of skinship with me. I won’t force you into it, but…”

In still being bare from the hips down, Quanxi dares to smooth a hand across your waist that curls an arm around your middle, and you freeze, your cool skin quick to grow warm under her touch.

“Quanxi—””It’s not lowering yourself to enjoy yourself,” she muses, right next to your ear. You blame your immodesty for the chill that sweeps down your spine. “Let me take your mind out of the stars for the night.”

It’s the alcohol. You’re drunk, too. That’s the only reason. Trying to rationalize your acceptance of the situation with false realities only embarrasses you further— you aren’t drunk. You can’t even call yourself slightly inebriated, not yet.

Then perhaps it’s your subconscious telling you to cave to Quanxi’s suggestion. To give into the strange offer of reprieve this Earth finds itself willing to give to you.

Her hands travel, soft and featherlight, across your now scalding flesh, and beneath the waistband of the sweats she’d intended on giving you. Loosening them from around your hips, she pushes them down until they slip around your ankles, and with a hand poised at the toned sculpt of her abdomen, she presses you into leaning against the counter behind you.

“Just stand there and stay pretty for me.”

Quanxi doesn’t waste another moment; not particularly keen to stop her, you lean into the hand that cups your jaw, allows her to fit her lips between yours, tries to remember the last time you’d ever kissed or had ever been kissed, and fails. With no other thoughts to keep you tethered to creating distractions for yourself, you keen forward and shift your weight onto a single foot. A small laugh huffs against your lips.

“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you,” she murmurs. You’re about to argue the opposite, that you’d only been acting agreeable for their best interest, and open your mouth; ever the opportunist, Quanxi is quick to curl her tongue to sweep along the inside of your lips before you get the chance to utter a single word. You flinch, but your own hand stays holding Quanxi’s hips against your own.

Her thighs are thick, discovering them to be more muscular than you’d first presumed when one of them press between your own and shift upward. You gasp, a soft sound, when the coarse material of Quanxi’s denim begins sliding back and forth along your bare clit; you tremble, and grips her sides just a little firmer.

“Ah, see? You don’t have to use your words to show it.”

A hand slips around to hold your neck, Quanxi pulling her mouth hard against yours, and you moan, your breaths shared with each tilt of their head and each swirl of their tongues around the other dense, purposeful. Was it the alcohol making your mind fuzzier? Making your judgment clouded? You hadn’t yearned for something this hard in much too long a time, though it did go without saying— yes, I’m enjoying myself.

You shiver at the sudden soft pecks and harsher licks at the curve of your neck, and Quanxi grinds your crotch against her bouncing thigh a little more insistently when you’d begun to shudder.

“You’re close, right? So soon?” Reluctantly, you find yourself nodding. Quanxi hums. “Not here.” She lowers her knee almost too abruptly, and releases. Your head snaps her way, frowning.

“This isn’t how I want you to come,” she explains, decidedly tugging down her own pants and kicking them away. “Too simple.”

“Why did you stop?”

“It’s only for a moment,” Quanxi assures you. She takes one of your hands and begins pulling you toward the staircase to the loft, quick to guide you along to sitting at the edge of her plush bedding. “Don’t look so frustrated, hm?”

You scoff, but it’s choked, heart still racing from your formerly impending, now lost, orgasm.

“More condescending words of yours,” you mutter, “just like earlier.”

“Condescending words from earlier…” Quanxi pauses. “Do you mean when I called you a “good girl”?”

“Yes. It was patronizing.”

“And… if I were to call you a good girl now?” Quanxi releases her hold around your wrist and, before you can pull them back (whether you were going to or not), fits her fingers through both of yours and kneels between your legs, spreading them further apart with her shoulders. Your entire body flinches, and your arms both jerk upwards with nowhere to go. “Is that still me being condescending? Or…” Quanxi tilts her head forward once more, and licks a stripe upward against your quiver. “… maybe it’s patronizing now?”

“Y-You’ve… well surpassed the definition of both of those words,” you groan.

“Maybe.” Quanxi’s tongue curls, catching on the hood of your clit. You gasp. “But look at you, my little time-traveling friend, behaving so well for me. I think this deserves a little bit of praise; a small reward.”

“Stop talking about it and give it to me, then.”

Quanxi doesn’t speak again, having suddenly busied herself with the wet kisses she supplied to your cunt. Your eyes fly upward to meet hers, tongue flicking so frustratingly calculated between your folds. You stir, arms twitching impatiently in her hold with nowhere to go— until she releases them again. Unable to help herself, you lurch forward, one hand pressing the woman between your thighs deeper into you, the other clawing at the sheets beneath you. When Quanxi goes to mumble something, not bothering to remove her tongue from against you, you send a hazy glare her way.

“Don’t talk, j-just—!” Quanxi’s grip shifts, instead to wind her arms around your thighs when your squirming becomes too uncontrolled. You cry out, a sharp noise that ends up startling you back into biting down on your own lip, as Quanxi suckles on your swollen bud. It’s impossible to stop her, to want to stop her; your hold on her head lessens, though it’s only when your legs begin to tremble in their attempt to fold shut, and when your voice catches in her throat that Quanxi finally pulls away, lips and chin glistening under the moonlight and hair slightly disheveled, and you groan again, a noise that grows progressively louder and more frustrated as the blonde rises back onto her feet.

“I never specified if you’d be the only one getting rewarded,” Quanxi points out, chuckling. “Keep your legs open.”

You manage a frown, but still hold your thighs apart for Quanxi to straddle you. Your hips buck, feeling the sudden pressure, the sudden heat and slick press against her; Quanxi doesn’t waste another moment, having been denying even herself the pleasure she’d now twice ripped away from you— punishment for the frustratingly short answers you’d provided throughout the evening.

Hands falling next to your head to grip the blanket, she rocks forward, lower back instinctively arching upon the friction finally reaching her— Quanxi moans, and you, impatient and shuddering once more, reach behind Quanxi to grab at her ass to pull her tighter into you.

“So eager,” Quanxi groans. Jerkily, she forces your shirt up over your breasts, nipples pert from your arousal, and dips her head down to wrap her lips around one, tongue swirling.

“Quanxi, I—” she pops away, gasping, hips still gyrating and pelvis grinding into yours with such a desperate fervour; she suddenly swivels herself and takes hold of your leg from under her knee, bringing it upwards. “Quanxi—”

“Go on, then,” Quanxi pants. Both mouths dripping, she takes her tongue and drags it up your calf. “Come for me, my little time-traveler.”

You choke on your breath, and your hands seize for Quanxi to hold her in position while you suddenly flip her around, grinding down on her, instead. Teeth gritted, Quanxi pulls and tugs at the sheets, moaning with the sweet relief of her own orgasm, and you tremble, crying out soft and low from the washing over of — finally, finally — your own pleasure.

Spent, you huff at the one-eyed woman when you lower herself down fully onto her pelvis. “Don’t… call me that ever again.”

Quanxi’s laugh is one of disbelief, and has you reddening above her.

“I was supposed to have an early night… I can always sleep on the plane.”

#quanxi x reader #afab reader #quanxi x y/n #csm x reader #quanxi smut #csm smut #csm quanxi #wlw #quanxi wlw

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 1 year

Text

when it all comes Crashing Down

tags: 18+, afab!reader, childhood friends to friends(?) with benefits, codependent relationship

summary: it fascinates you how someone so manipulative and cruel can be so sensitive and needy

a/n: writing pro-tip, always write down random sentences whenever they come to you because you never know when it’ll be the source of inspiration for a story. in this case, an introspective think piece on makima’s loneliness that is also smut where neither of you are the good guy. also available on AO3.

If windows are eyes to the soul, you wonder what that means for someone like Makima.

Or rather, you wonder what people see when they look at them. You’ve known her for the better part of your life and at 25, you still aren’t sure what others see. That is at the forefront of your mind as gold eyes with red rings look back at you, a calculating smile accompanying them.

“Are you listening to me?” Makima tilts her head as she rests her chin on her palm.

You nod vaguely at your childhood friend, turning your gaze to your phone screen. “I heard you say a week ago that you have a partner assignment due this week and yet somehow you’re here at my place instead of doing that.” You have your apartment to yourself for once, your roommate gone for the weekend to stay the night at one of her girlfriends’ apartments. “Shouldn’t you be out doing your homework?”

“I can’t visit my best friend from time to time?” Makima implores as if she is surprised by your own inquiry

“That isn’t what I asked,” yet you already know the answer. You aren’t completely well-acquainted with Aki Hayakawa. He’s a friend of a friend and you see him from time to time when said friends throw parties or have other get-togethers. Those were enough encounters for you to know the man is absolutely smitten with the redhead in front of you, spooning a piece of the tiramisu she brought over. He’d do anything Makima asked of him with more enthusiasm you could ever produce.

Unsurprisingly, Makima confirms what you already suspect. “Hayakawa told me he could do the rest of it,” she replies lightly with a smile. And there we go. You wonder what the poor sap sees in her when you know Makima doesn’t see him as more than an amusing puppy chasing after her braid. “I wanted to visit because I thought you might be lonely. Here,” she raises her spoon towards your lips. “I made this for you.”

“Nah I’m good,” Makima’s baking isn’t necessarily the problem. It’s the measurements, her measurements just aren’t for you.

“You said you wanted to try tiramisu recently,” Makima counters, her hand not moving an inch.

“First, I mentioned that in passing,” you raise a finger and quickly follow it with another. “Second, I also said I was going to try it out with Quanxi next Saturday.” One of her girlfriend’s, Long, is having a birthday celebration at an Italian restaurant. “They say patience is a virtue, I can wait.”

“I think it’s a voluntary virtue when it comes to food,” Makima lowers her hand for a moment. “Are you just trying to say you don’t want to eat my baking?”

You snort, “that’s exactly what I’m saying, yes. I trust your cooking, not your baking. You have never gotten the right amount of sugar that I can stomach.” You’ve never been able to eat things too sweet. Even as a child you would scrape off most of the frosting on cupcakes, sliding it onto Makima’s plate who welcomed the additional sweetness.

“That’s a bit mean” that is hilarious coming from the undisputed Queen of Mean. You distinctly remember the time in middle school where Makima laughed at a scene of a protagonist crying over the death of a friend. That in itself was ironic coming from the same girl who, at the beginning of that same semester, clutched your shirt and sobbed like it was the end of the world when you found out you shared zero classes and had separate lunch periods. “I worked hard to make this for you. You should spoil a person more when you’ve known them since you were 6.”

You distinctly know the spoiling she is referring to is about herself. “I always spoil you,” I’ve been doing it since we were kids. It crosses your mind, not for the first time, that if it weren’t for your parents, you are sure you and Makima would never have become friends.

Your mom was her mom’s friend in university and by some chance, they ended up enrolling you both at the same school and found out when you were both picked up later after classes. There began your days of playing whatever game Makima desired and your possessions somehow becoming her possessions. Whenever you voiced your grievances to your mom, however, she always told you to be kind and understanding in a tone that let you know that you recognized even now. A tone that says “this has something to do with something we adults discussed”.

It didn’t take too long for you at that age to notice the traces of what your mother was likely referring to.

You never saw much of Makima’s parents when you were younger; you don't see much of them now.

School events, holidays and a few random things in between. It wasn’t Makima’s family that shared them with her but yours. That realization made you think back to the times you would complain about mandatory family time and your mother would rebuttal, “not everyone is lucky to have parents that love them so much, [First], you should be grateful.”

Indulging Makima became habit after that as long as it was in reason.

You’re sure there is a part of her that resents you choosing to room with a classmate rather than her though.

“Just try it,” Makima raises her spoon again and, with a sigh, you relent.

Almost immediately, you balk at the taste, nose scrunching in displeasure. “Like I said,” you grab Makima’s cup of black tea and down a large mouthful. “You always make things too sweet. This is why I’m gonna eat it at a restaurant with an actual baker.”

You lay your head on the foot of the couch, rejecting the too-sweet tiramisu in its entirety. “I’ll just make Quanxi pay for it when I order it. She owes me for what happened last weekend.” You aren’t one to knock someone getting laid but your roommate fucking her girlfriends loudly all night the night before you had a exam was evil. All she did when you banged on the door to keep it down was toss her noise-canceling headphones before closing it again. At least when I fuck in the house I have the decency to keep shit down, you grumble internally pushing away the fact Quanxi technically also offered to let you join in the fun.

You probably would have joined if you weren’t sleep-deprived and irritated.

C’est la vie.

“[First].”

“Hmm,” you hum in response without opening your eyes. Your eyes find themselves opening a moment later when you feel the distinct feeling of another body over your own, Makima placing her legs on either side of your hips as she sits on your lap.

Red frames gold as she looks down on you and you stare back wordlessly before her lips press against yours.

It fascinates you how someone so manipulative and cruel can be so sensitive and needy.

Cruelty comes easy to Makima, no different than a child experiencing troubles at home taking out their frustrations on a random kid at school.

She’s angelic in appearance, devilish in nature.

She wants to be treated gently when she is incapable of treating people gently herself.

By your second to last year of high school, you wondered what your relationship meant about you.

Knowing her ways yet staying her friend regardless which only birthed the question as to why you remained her friend. It donned on you not too long after that the reason was pity when you held a distraught Makima in your arms in your room when a former mutual friend stated his intentions not to associate with her any longer. You remember finding it strange that she was so upset when you didn’t think Makima even considered Madoka to be a friend in the first place.

She said as much when you asked her before the event transpired.

“He’s more like an acquaintance, they all are,” Makima had told you. “But not you [First], you’re my real friend.”

The only one she has.

It dawned on you then if Madoka wanting nothing to do with her could make her cry, you doing the same would make Makima undoubtedly break. It’s ironic how the loneliest people can be the most sadistic.

So she can be cruel; as long as that cruelty never turns to you, you will continue to be there even when you are sure you both know that your friendship has long since passed the expiry date. You’ll be there when she needs to cry, you’ll accompany her on walks for her dogs and you’ll lay her down in your bed when she wants to feel the skin of another on her own like you are now.

Makima’s arms tighten around your shoulders, hips bucking as the butt of your palm rubs against her clit as you thrust your fingers inside her. She’s absolutely soaked and you can’t help relishing that fact as Makima moans your name like it’s the only word she knows.

Maybe this was inevitable, the two of you like this, you think vaguely as you leave a trail of wet kisses from her breasts to her belly before settling between her legs. You lap at her core slowly, bringing one of your hands to clasp her own and Makima intertwines her fingers between yours tightly.

You press one finger in her pussy, sucking on her clit.

You add a second when you kiss her folds.

You continue thrusting your fingers once you add a third and Makima moves her hips to press into your ministrations. It takes a few moments to find a rhythm, alternating between licking and maintaining the movement of your finger. It doesn’t take much longer for Makima’s thighs to tighten around your head, coming with a soft cry.

You pull out your fingers, vaguely acknowledging the ache in your wrist and glance in her direction. From your position you can see her chest heave up and down, hand tightly gripping yours as she reels from the aftershocks. If she held it any tighter, you’re sure it would break.

With two light taps on her hip, Makima loosens her grip on your head tiredly and you kiss her inner thighs before finally moving to lay on your pillow beside her. It takes a moment to pull your hand away from hers, Makima’s grip iron tight. “Hey, I need that hand to hug you, weirdo,” is all it takes for her hand to loosen its hold and gently you take back your hand.

There is no fighting against your tugging as you pull Makima into your chest like you’ve done many times before holding firmly but gently, just as she likes. You don’t comment on the soft sniffle you hear, it’s an unspoken rule for you both not to point out when she cries during sex. Almost instinctively, Makima presses herself even closer as she wraps her arms around your waist. Sometimes you wonder if she is trying to live in your skin.

“[First],” Makima murmurs almost too softly for you to hear when she’s wound down.

You fiddle with a lock of her hair, “What is it?”

“Stay the night with me tomorrow,” her nails dig into your back and you note she sounds almost uncertain in her command. Desperate.

You close your eyes, tired. “We can go in the morning.”

#look she's writing #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #makima x reader #neither makima or the reader are the good guy in this because sometimes things are just morally gray for all parties involved #thanks tyler the creator for the title inspo lol

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rinrinx2 · 1 year

Note

Hello! If your requests are still open can I request mixed smut scenario with - reader has a crush on Kishibe and enemies to lovers with it being a smut? I dont know if I should elaborate/describe it more but something among the lines of reader thinking he only has eyes for quanxi and never seeing her as a woman, so she goes on dates with both guys and girls her age, even trying to date Aki who kissed her during one mission, little did she know that a certain older devil hunter was jealous and angry, while reader feels like her big crush on an older and experienced man is unprofessional and wrong and is embarassed about it since she isn't very experienced with men? In reality Kishibe got over Quanxi a bit after she joined the work of being a devil hunter, but she thought she would die faster than Kobeni so he was a bit cold and mean to her but loved each minute he trained, drank, talked to her? and one day confronts her about it on a mission and they argue like they always do, so he fights with the reader and pins them or something? I apologize if you didn't need a description, have a nice day!

Hope you like it <3

Picking a fight

Kishibe x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, Inappropriate language, Mature themes, Adult themes, against the wall, unprotected, cream pie, breeding implied, mentions of death.

*Text in this font this indicates events from the past*

You would of preferred having anyone over your current partner literally anyone was better than the older man who held your interests so deeply.

"Would you stop panicking" Kishibe commented as you walked cautiously through the abandoned apartment complex.

"I'm not panicking I'm just nervous" you replied back.

"Nervous" he mocked with snicker as he rolled his eyes at the remark.

You hated how snarky and sarcastic Kishibe was with you, but you hated yourself more for finding it so attractive the way he would diffuse the most tense scenarios with an obvious remark.

A trait of his that you both loved and despised, just as Quanxi did, which made you snap back to the reality. As much as you had a crush on the older man it would only remain a crush as he was taken with Quanxi and only a fool would go against her.

"Head in dreamland already" Kishibe commented again as your mind lingered still on Quanxi.

"Well continue to be in dreamland and the demon will kill you and you'll stay there" Kishibe continued as he now walked ahead of you.

"Why do you always have to say things like that, you know how I feel about ... dying" you replied back, now with an air of worry in your voice.

Kishibe rolled his eyes once again at your worry. You were constantly plagued with worries of your death even when he trained you that was all that would leave your lips.

The thoughts of death started to manifest in your head and before you knew it you were thinking back to your training. Back to when these thoughts were scary enough to turn you away from your current life.

"How often do devil hunters die?" You questioned as you sat on the training mat.

"4 out of 5 don't make it" Kishibe replied while he took a deep inhale of the cigarette placed between his soft lips.

Your irises became as small as pins at the mention that there was a high percentage rate that you wouldn't even make it pass your first mission.

"Well if you lucky maybe the demon won't even bother with killing you, I mean a girl such as yourself would die from missing a step on a staircase" Kishibe said blowing the smoke down onto your face. That was the start of your relationship not only as student and mentor but as pickering partners.

"I'm being serious here (Y/N), stop letting your mind linger. We're getting closer" Kishibe said turning back looking at you with a face painted with irritation.

You starred back at him, slightly shaking your head as you snapped out of the memory your mind drifted to. Now facing back at the reality you were going into.

You looked at the different apartment doors as you continued your journey through the passages, noting how each door seemed to look normal yet something seemed to be off.

Just as you were about to ask about your surroundings you heard the snarky remarks of the older man begin.

"Your head so caught up on Aki that you not paying attention again" he said not even bothering to look back this time.

"What!" You replied back now with slight anger in your voice.

"Don't what me, we all know on your last mission you and Aki ended up having more fun than you were supposed to"

"Aki and I did nothing" you snapped back, now refusing to move a step forward.

"Oh please, we heard how he did you against the wall" Kishibe said now full on laughing at the idea.

"I didn't do it with Aki, we just kissed and it wasn't even like a proper kiss just a touch of our lips" you said now thinking back to your last mission, how Aki's lips were pressed against yours. You could still feel the warm of his lips against yours.

"Yeah whatever, you probably wouldn't mind dying on a mission with Aki" Kishibe said as he was about to reach for his flask.

Just as his hand grabbed the cold metal flask the flooring the two of you stood on began to shift, causing you to lose your balance.

"Shit" Kishibe said underneath his breath.

Your could feel your breathing began to speed up and feel the worry of death flood through your veins. You had been in many situations before but none like this. The walls were beginning to swallow you and the floors pulling your further in.

Your body was trapped within itself unable to move, and Kishibe soon noticed this when you weren't responding to him as he called out to you.

"Fuck (Y/N) move!" He yelled as grabbed your hand, pulling into some apartment with the door left open.

Kishibe threw you into the apartment, barely making it into it himself.

The cold floor against your skin did little to relieve the evident shock still traveling through your body.

Kishine looked down at your frozen figure and soon began to worry at you state.

"(Y/N) don't fucking go into shock" he said as he quickly flopped down to the floor starting to violently shake you back into consciousness of your surroundings.

"Come on, listen to my voice. You're safe here" Kishibe said as he began to hold you in his arms.

"You're safe, (Y/N). You're safe" he repeated over and over as he placed his hand on your head soothingly petting your head.

You remained still eyes still glossed over with fear, and heart still beating erratically. You could hear Kishibe voice in your mind, and began to focus on it, listening as every syllable hit against your ear letting it soak into your brain until you could feel yourself in your body.

Kishibe watched as your once frozen body quickly moved out of his arms as you took deep breathes distancing yourself from him.

"Why would you do that!" You yelled out to the older male.

"Save you?" He questioned as he remained seated on the floor as you slowly began to rise to your feet.

"No, talk about dying. You know what it does to me" you replied back with a bark.

"You've got to be kidding me" Kishibe said rhetorically as he now stood back on his feet, with his hand coming to his temples at your accusations.

"You use to train me and you knew about my worries of death, you know I'm scared to die in this field of work and then you go ahead and talk about it while we're on a mission" you continued to yell with a face full of anger.

"Calm down you're, you sound like that Kobeni girl the way you're getting worked up over nothing"

"Nothing! The floor tried to eat me, Kishibe!"

"Yeah but are you dead" he said with that sarcastic tone that had you going livid.

"Can you stop with that, I'm not your little girlfriend Quanxi that enjoys that demeaning tone in the face of death!"

"Quanxi?! I don't even like Quanxi since she began to work as a devil hunter, so you even going on about this is pointless" Kishibe yelled as he looked at you with a bitterly.

"Don't lie to me, I see the way you look at her. You love her and I've been trying everything to get over you even going on dates with girls and boys just to get you out of my mind. All you see me as is that dumb little girl you trained!" You shouted back pointing an accusing finger at Kishibe who now walked over to where you stood.

"Don't fucking stand here and say I've been making you jealous with Quanxi, when you're the one going about kissing co-workers" Kishibe said as there was only 3 steps away from you now.

"You think I enjoy hearing the woman I fantasize about kissing another man" Kishibe said now moving a step closer as you moved one back.

"You think I see you as some scared little girl, well you couldn't be more wrong" Kishibe said irritatedly as you back was now against some wall as he now stood face to face with you.

"You have no idea how I have thought about you at night, the way you look, the way you walk, the way you talk, everything about you drives me insane and the only thing stopping me from doing anything is because an old man like me should not be fucking his younger colleague"

Now it was Kishibe whose face was contorted with a scowl while yours remained with shock as you looked back at him, eyes wide and lips parted as he had just confessed how his feelings mirrored yours.

"Kishibe I want you to fuck me" you said quietly, barely above a whisper as your eyes looked into his, hoping that he would both hear you and wouldn't.

"I've been dying to hear those words" Kishibe said as he dove his head down to yours.

His hands now grabbing yours that were at your side pinning them above your head, as he passionately kissed you. His tongue sliding against your own feeling the warmth of your mouth against his.

His lips left yours as it now traveled down to your neck, feeling as his tongue slid against the column of your neck making your grasp out for air.

"Kishibe" you moaned out at the sensation of pleasure.

Kishibe removed his one hand that from above your head, now moving it lower till it was at the hem of your pencil skirt.

"Want me to fuck you now or after I kill this demon?" Kishibe whispered into your ear, causing a tingle to run down your spine.

"Now" you said quietly with your head lowered.

Within a second your skirt was now pulled up and your panties were being pulled down with one hand as the other was quickly pulling Kishibe pants down.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good that the demon is going to hear you moan" he snickered out as he got his cock out from his pants.

You looked in amazement at his cock, that was stood 10-inches big with a thick vein on the underside and two heavy breeder balls that caused pre-cum to shine on Kishibe slit.

"Take a nice look cause this is going in you" he said as he now fully removed your panties. He grabbed your hips lifting your up so now that your pussy was hovering above his cock.

You could feel his pre-cum against your soaked pussy, causing your to gush out more.

Just as you were about to moan out for him to enter, you felt his cockhead begin to slip in.

His felt as his cock split your pussy fold open, sliping it in causing you to moan out in satisfaction.

You felt ad Kishibe bottom out in you, not moving as he allowed you to get use to his size.

Your pussy fluttered against Kishibe's cock as it took it all in. You looked down between your bodies noting how your legs were wet with your slick and his pre-cum and back up into Kishibe's eyes watching as his eyes held lust in them.

Your lips slowly reconnected to his as he began to thrust up into you, each thrust knocking the air out of your lungs.

"Oh Kishibe" you moaned out against his lips, feeling the way his cock rubbed perfectly against your pussy walls.

Kishibe could feel the way your pusst tightened with each thrust, which only made him more feral to breed you.

"Your pussy need my cum doesn't it" he said in that sarcastic demeaning tone that had you seeing stars.

Kishibe began to quickening his pace, as he fucked you senselessly against the wall, the only sound being that over your moans and slapping of your wet pussy against his soaked balls.

Your pussy was spasming around his cock, taking in the way he drilled you so perfecting making your claw into his back.

Kishibe could sense you were close, your pussy was already milking him and your nipples were as hard as rocks as he could see them through your bra.

"Cum for me baby" Kishibe said as he rutted into you, his cock head nudging deep into your soft walls.

Your pussy was overflowing with cock and your vision became spotty as you felt the coil in yout tummy began to slip until it finally loosened.

Hot liquid began to gush from you onto Kishibe as you came hard, gripping onto him as your road out your orgasm against his cock.

Your actions causing Kishibe to shot hot white semen deep inside your pussy, as you milked him dry.

Kishibe remained still for a moment allowing you to catch yout breath before gently bringing your back down to the ground.

He gently helped your slip you back into your panties before slipping his cock back into his pants.

Kishibe looked at you with a smile, looking at your fucked out expression.

"Let's make a deal" he said causing your eyes to light up with interest.

"Let's go kill this demon, but if you spill a drop of cum from your pussy I get to fuck more into you after this mission"

"Deal"

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animehouse-moe · 9 months

Text

Chainsaw Man Chapter 139: A Chair's Feelings

Well, as expected we get some more juicy information regarding the world and the existence of devils, but also a surprising amount of progression for Denji as a character. Lots to chat about for sure!

Right away, Miri (the sword hybrid) tells Denji that other weapons are with the Chainsaw Man Church. This tells us one of two things: the weapons that we know are being controlled, or there are new weapons in here.

It's a pretty easy line to take because Quanxi and Reze number amongst the hybrids that we know of, and there's no way that they would exist with the Chainsaw Man Church without seeing Kishibe or Denji.

So where does that lead us? Well, to the fact that the weapons are being controlled, just in a different way. And Fujimoto relays that very well to readers.

Miri chokes on his words as a "free man", and instead says that he's doing this specific thing of his own free will. Personally speaking, I think it's pretty easy to see that Famine has these hybrids wrapped around her finger, which provides a much more interesting picture going forward.

In the vacuum of power that was created by Makima's death, Famine either appeared or took action. Taking in the hybrids, she's been biding her time for the appearance of Yoru. All for the sake of the prophecy. All that said, the Chainsaw Man Church suddenly makes sense with Famine's power.

Famine needs someone to be hungry or starving to be able to control them. She needs a concrete desire to latch onto to be able to subjugate a person. Denji as a character has always struggled with concrete dreams or ideals, so what Famine is attempting to do is different. Rather than lure Denji in with shallow promises and whatnot, she's stripped him of his identity, and has weaponized that against him. Raising up Asa to take his place, and then having ghosts of his past appear and beg him to come to the church. It just screams of a plot to isolate and overpower Denji.

Anyways, Denji as a character. He does really well here in understanding his dreams. The past conversations about his happiness, about who and what he is and what that means to him, they're starting to build up within Denji so that he can begin to understand what happiness and dreams really are. He's definitely not quite there yet, but he's certainly showing progress.

Of course, it's more than just Denji that we should be focusing on in this moment (though it does tie back into Denji). Just take a look at Miri's reaction to Denji turning down his invitation to the church. Everybody, Miri included, has an idea as to who Chainsaw Man is. How he should act, what he should do and what he should represent. And they all foist those ideals onto Denji as a character. So, much like Fami, they weaponize Denji's identity and character against him, trying to lure him away with empty promises and the like. And Denji bites on it, after all he's still a teenage boy with his head in the clouds.

And just to add a bit, I definitely think having Denji fall for the bait with this piece was important. He's clearly becoming more and more aware and understanding of himself, but at the same time he's still kinda stupid and naïve (just look at the movie chapter).

And to our last little bit of info, teleporting Denji. It even catches Miri off guard. Now, for the sake of comedic effect it's definitely possible, but what about a more interesting theory?

The door was closed, so Denji's ability to get through that way without alerting Miri is highly unlikely, so it leaves only alternate routes to the stairwell. Miri didn't make it far before noticing Denji, so even if Denji could move incredibly fast, the chances of him making it there before Miri saw him is unlikely.

This all brings it to the conclusion that this likely isn't Denji. But who would it be? Who would pretend to be Denji and go to the Chainsaw Man Church in his stead? Who protects Denji from the shadows and very rarely shows his face?

Yoshida. I know, it's crazy, but I still can't shake the idea that Yoshida's ability/contract with the Octopus devil may have something to do with shapeshifting.

Overall, it's definitely more a "story" chapter than "character", but Fujimoto continues to sneak some solid moments in for Denji and his place in the world. Bits and pieces of development that are reflective of his experiences in his now daily life, offset by the constant overshadowing of the "Chainsaw Man" persona so many wish to impart onto him. It's really great to see, but even better is getting another step closer to figuring out what's going on with the hybrids and the church. Public Safety should have known about their whereabouts, or at the very least their disappearance, but seem content with idly watching. There's a lot going on under the surface, and I'm really curious to see what the next chapter dredges up from the depths.

#chainsaw man #csm pt 2 #chainsaw man manga #csm manga #chainsaw man part two #chainsaw man part 2 spoilers #csm part 2 #csm part two #csm spoilers #csm denji #csm yoshida #manga recommendation #manga review #anime and manga #manga

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possiblylando · 5 months

Text

Chainsaw Man Chapter 148 not so early analysis

Bit later than usual cause college and I wanted to look into something from part 1.

Fumiko has been continuing the trend of being absolutely useless in every situation shes ever been put in to the point I feel confident in saying she CANT fight. This clearly isn't a kobeni situation where she can fight if necessary because she hasn't even really been trying to fight or protect anyone. It's the point I've actually started to believe the theory that Fumiko is actually Aldo in disguise.

For a refresher Aldo was one of the american assassin brothers who got picked off at the beginning of the arc by Power and Yoshida respectively. However Aldo survived the entire arc and has been awol ever since. He's also surprisingly durable since he survived both of these attacks with minimal injury.

He may or may not have been hit by halloween, Given his facial expression I it seems like he's faking it especially since Halloween was used on the doll devil and so should logically only effect her dolls which Aldo is not.

I went back through these chapters expecting to find a smoking gun that could prove this to be true. Specifically I was looking for a scene where he or one of the brothers was holding an ID card which could be matched against the way Fumiko holds it, But I did not find that.

This is the best I found but it's also standard practice so it isn't good evidence. Back to the chapter itself, It's clear now Quanxi is just going through the motions

She's clearly been lacking when it comes to combat and athletics in these previous few chapters in comparison to her original appearance. She's been sort of stumbling through these chapters with the help of her regeneration. Which is a bit strange until you keep in mind; Quanxi is more than likely SUPER depressed. The last time we saw her before this was when she fought Denji and the previous time before that was when everyone she cared about got murdered by Makima. It's probable that she blames herself for it because she took the job to kill Denji and thus got her and the girls into the situation that killed them in the first place.

Fuck you looking at bitch do something

The transition between these two pages is so good I had to do a double take because my immediate though was that Quanxi was the one who got her arm cut off. But then obviously it's Asa's. You can feel the inspiration from good movie transitions here.

This whole scene is very cool and also very interesting because Asa is able to block Yoshida's sword with her barehand. She got such an amp from the chainsaw fire attacks that she can do this. It also means she has basically the same base stats as yoru. Which is to be expected but I think is interesting.

It seems like this page was drawn before the rest of the one in this sequence because Yoshida is busting through a wall here despite the fact Room 606 was just destroyed; Thus there should be no wall to bust through to escape onto the street. Interestingly the other personality is absent in this scene entirely. We never see Yoru and Asa in the same panel which is an interesting choice. Its probably a creative choice to only have one of them around in major action scenes. Feels like a good time to mention a theory I saw on twitter. I've been trying to find it but I've had no luck. If I can find it it'll probably be apart of next week's post. To summarize the theory; Asa and Yoru are the same entity. Not two separate beings in one body. Asa the human we met at the beginning of part 2 has been dead since the justice (fire) contract user killed her. The Asa we see now is a split personality reconstructed using the intact memories in the body's brain at the time she became a fiend. If true it means Asa is an alternate persona created by Yoru in order to cause more conflict within herself (constant internal warfare) and as a coping mechanism due to the chainsaw devil massacre in hell. Its an interesting theory I want to put on the board incase something happens with it especially since Yoru is growing in strength rapidly. Probably how Black Pochita was schooling them during it.

#chainsaw man #csm #chainsaw man 148 #quanxi #asa mitaka #yoru chainsawman #fumiko mifune

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pixelmensupremacy · 1 year

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hihihihihi!!! idk if you havent watch chainsaw man but, if havent you should go watch it! (if you want too ofc 🧍‍♀️) can i request connor, 60 and nines for reader with quanxi personality? thank you <3

A/N: Hey, dear! I haven't watched it so keep that in mind! I tried my best to embody the character and I hope I did okay (you'll be the judge of that).

What you are about to read is not proofread and was written during a period of writer's block. Proceed with caution.

The boys will be absolutely smitten with (Y/N) although their infatuation will manifest differently

Connor would oftentimes find himself staring at her in silence as she practically hunted any criminal they were after, bewitched by her, seemingly limitless, drive

His biocomponents will malfunction too often when in her presence for him to even function properly let alone do his job

She found it absolutely adorable

And she would tease him about it

"Hello, Detective!" He greeted her with enthusiasm untypical for an android "Can I be of service? I could help with the reports on the latest case you've been working on." He gave her a hopeful smile, the sparkle in his eyes shone brighter than ever.

"Thanks, dear but I could handle myself, though I reckon your reports won't write themselves." She smiled back at him, yet there was a flirtatious tone to her voice that had Connor's thirium pump accelerate. Soft blue dusted his cheeks, silence fell upon him.

"For fuck's sake! Did you break him?" Hank's voice came from the opposite desk, finally bringing Connor to the present moment.

As much as his malfunctioning episodes were concerning and even ego-crushing, he pushed it aside and instead pondered on why it was that (Y/N) caused that reaction

Post deviancy when Connor is aware of his emotions and has embraced them, he realizes there's more to his infatuation with (Y/N)- it had extended to attraction

More often than not, he will spend a lot of his time in her company, soaking in as much information about her as possible

But her descreet nature didn't help

Even though it was discouraging at first, Connor's interest was soon rekindled by the challenge of unraveling the mystic aura surrounding her

She was truly unlike any human he had come across

Much like Connor, Nines too would observe (Y/N), though he would successfully mask his interest in her

Or he at least he thinks he does

Periodically, she would intentionally meet his icy gaze only to wink at him, knowing he stares at her

Which in return caused a smug grin to curl the corners of her lips

(Y/N) enjoys teasing the three RK boys, though she had a preference for the one and only RK900

In her presence he would act cool, skillfully hiding the fierce whizzing of his biocomponents that overheated at the simplest interaction he had with (Y/N)

"So what do we have here?" (Y/N) asked enthusiastically, her palm lingering on his shoulder as she walked to him and took a look at the body, lifelessly laying on the floor.

His LED spun in a bright amber color, and his processor malfunctioned. Quickly blinking, he ran a system analysis- no apparent impairments. Taking a deep breath in, he let the air naturally cool his overheated bio components.

"The victim had been found recently, although the death had occurred long ago, there are bruises on the victim's death, suggesting the cause of death is strangulation." (Y/N) listened to him carefully, taking in every word he said, yet the was also something else occupying her mind: why it took him so long to answer? Then she saw his LED, dancing in multiple colors, his passions were balled into fists so tight his knuckles were on the brim revealing the plastic underneath his synthetic skin. A sly smile appeared on her face.

"You seem distracted, is there something you're not telling me?" Her gaze met his, his face had kept his stoic façade. His expression remained enigmatic, though his silence spoke words that were left unsaid.

Out of all the three, only Sixty will be fully open about his interest in (Y/N)

He will tirelessly try to get (Y/N)'s attention

He will flirt, dropping ridiculously corny pick up lines at any given moment

She is responsive to his flirting, laughing at how he would make a fool of himself for the sake of bringing a smile to her face

Which smile never failed to spurr a mixture of emotions that made his thirium pump malfunction

Sixty sat behind his desk, silence- abnormal for his nature- had fallen upon him. Curiously, (Y/N) observed him only to notice him fidgeting with Connor's coin. Immediately, Sixty's gaze met hers.

"If I flip this coin, what are the chances of me getting head?" her laughter rang in his ears akin to the sweetest melody that he has ever been fortunate to hear.

"You're the one with a computer for a brain, you should know the answer yourself." She shot him a playful smile.

Right as Sixty was about to deliver the smoothest line of his existence, Connor interrupted their flirting.

"Has anyone seen my coin, I seem to have lost it somewhere." He questioned, the genuine worry visible on his face.

When on duty, the three androids like to think they are guarding (Y/N)

Yet it was usually (Y/N) that saved them, whenever they were too busy arguing

When out in public, the four of them would draw attention, causing shocked stares and whispers

(Y/N) didn't mind

In fact, she enjoyed the shock value they held by just unapologetically being themselves and most of all enjoying each other's company

There was also another factor she never excluxively addmited to be the reason for attachment to the boys

As greedy as it sounded she wanted them by her side

#dbh x reader #dbh fanfic #dbh imagine #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #sixty x reader #nines x reader #rk900 imagine #rk900 x reader

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zoromuse · 1 year

Text

“HEART TO HEART…”

VALENTINES DAY EVENT

status: CLOSED

slots: 20/20

hii! i wanted to do a little something to celebrate valentines day and to thank you all for the support on my blog and my fics. i’m still relatively new here and everyone has been so nice, i just wanted to show my appreciation for that. hope you all anjoy this little even i made with lots of love, and i can’t wait to see all your requests <3

Rules

⭑ Choose a prompt to go with a character

⭑ The event starts today, February 1st, 2023, and ends when all the slots are taken

⭑ Requests will be posted on February 14th, 2023

⭑ Only writing for f!reader and gn!reader (preferably specify which one you’d like)

⭑ I will only accept requests sent in my inbox (asks) since it’s easier to organize them that way, so please don’t message me or reply your request ln any post

⭑ All of the prompted fics will probably be between 300-500 words long (short)

Fandoms and characters

⭑ One piece: Moneky D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji, Nami, God Usopp, Nico Robin, Portgas D. Ace, Crocodile, Trafalgar Law, Shanks, Buggy (personal fav <3), Smoker, Eustass Kid, Yamato, etc.

⭑ Chainsaw man: Aki Hayakawa, Beam, Angel Devil, Kobeni, Kishibe (personal fav <3), Galgali, Quanxi, Future Devil

⭑ Jujutsu Kaisen: Satoru Gojo, Ryomen Sukuna, Sugurou Geto, Nanami Kento, Choso

Prompts

1.) “Don’t be such a brat”

2.) “Quiet, the others will hear”

3.) “I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet?”

4.) “We have to make this quick”

5.) “Keep going, I want to see how you do it”

6.) “You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck”

7.) “You taste so sweet”

8.) “I said I’d take care of you, did you think I wouldn’t follow through on that?”

9.) “It’s not going to fit!”

10.) “Spread your legs for me, I want to see you”

11.) “I want you to watch me when I fuck you”

12.) “I won’t apologize for marking you up, everyone should know you’re mine”

13.) “I thought maybe we could do more than kissing tonight”

14.) “You can take it, you’re done it before”

15.) “You’e bigger than I thought”

16.) “Don’t go shy on me now, where’s that attitude you had five minutes ago?”

17.) “Let me return the favor”

18.) “I’ve never done anything like this before”

19.) “Be a good girl for mommy/daddy”

20.) “You know it’s fine if you’re a little rough with me”

21.) “I can’t hear you, c’mon use your words like a good girl”

22.) “I love it when you act all controlling around me, knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me”

23.) “Want me to fuck a baby into you?”

24.) “But what if someone sees?”

25.) “Did you just fake it?”

26.) “This is wrong”

28.) “Beg for it”

29.) “You’re such a crybaby”

30.) “You look so good with my hands around your neck”

Thank you for participating, if you do!

#one piece x reader smut #one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader smut #⭑. zoromuse’s vday event

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rotworld · 1 year

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Nadir

the day he gets his face ripped open, kishibe comes to you—his second choice.

->young!kishibe/reader. suggestive but not explicit. contains dubcon, mild gore, angst, unresolved sexual tension, emotional manipulation, one-sided/unhealthy relationship.

You’re loitering under the live house awning with your umbrella tucked under one arm, cradling the spine of an engineering textbook as thick and heavy as a doorstop. And he’s mad about it. Wishes he’d walked up and seen the empty space where you’d been standing instead. Because that means you came, and you waited, and you believed somewhere in a dark, cobwebbed corner of your heart that he would actually show up today, no matter what bullshit you’re about to tell him. You should know better by now. People like him take advantage of people like you.

You hear him coming. You tilt your head, a twitch at the corner of your mouth that could be a larval smirk or frown, but you don’t look at him. Not in the eye, anyway. You glance over the top of the page at his shoes, scuffed and bloody, making little red rivers in the rain. Muffled jazz throbs through the closed door beside you, crooning saxophone and deep, seductive bass. They’re good, whoever’s playing. The band playing two hours ago when he was supposed to be here was probably good, too. He trades his umbrella to his other hand, his bandaged fingers stiff and sore. “I’m late,” he says.

You nod. “You’re late. I wasn’t really expecting to see you anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “You’re a little too forgiving.”

You snap your book shut and tuck it into your messenger bag. It’s a fancy little thing you got yourself with your last paycheck from the private sector, real leather and brass latches, a treat for high school graduation. He would’ve gotten it for you if you’d asked. You showed it off the day you got it, proud, beaming, opened it so he could touch the velvety texture inside and see all of your assignments and textbooks and pencils. College things. Soft things. He searched for weapons but you’d already stopped carrying them.

“All you do is break promises,” you say without malice. That’s your thing, like every hunter has a thing. A superstition. A morbid coping mechanism. You believe devil hunters are chronic promise-breakers, so you ask him, every time you meet, Promise me you’ll die on your next job. It’s cute and stupid and just as useless as every other ritual every other hunter has ever had, but he indulges sometimes. It was better when you could say it to each other, wrap your little fingers together and swear that the next one would take you.

“I almost didn’t this time,” he admits.

That brings your gaze to his face and your mouth parts in a startled little o. You are, underneath it all, a hunter in civilian’s clothing. You don’t gasp or ask stupid questions. Wordlessly, you reach for him, and he doesn’t flee or sidestep or anything he’d usually do. You cup your palm against the uninjured side of his face and it’s a fight to keep from swaying or shutting his eyes or doing some other embarrassing shit. The silence is tense but commiserating.

“Long day,” he says.

“You shouldn’t be walking around.”

He shouldn’t be talking right now. Three layers of bandages, gauzy padding and medical tape are all that’s holding his jaw from unraveling like a gummy fruit rind. Most of his upper body is tenderized meat and bruises, his left arm alternating between tingling numbness and agony. He walked all this way with a limp and no depth perception, nearly crumpling when he stepped out of a taxi and missed the curb. Quanxi had looked pensive the whole ten minutes she spent at his bedside, arms crossed over her chest.

“Stay put. Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, her tone flat and resigned, knowing it didn’t matter.

You say his name in that quiet, frustrated way you do sometimes, and that brings him back. You’re chewing him out or something, he’s not really paying attention. “I know, I know,” he says, grazing his hand along your arm to your wrist, savoring the warmth where your sleeve slides back. You watch him with a hunter’s appraising eyes, assessing his every move for motive, predicting what he’ll do next. You don’t stop him from resting his hand over yours. You don’t blink as he turns slightly, kissing your palm. “There’s a hotel,” he says, holding your gaze, “a few blocks away…”

You’re both looking at it now—this big, awkward, unspoken thing between you. Kishibe is staring it in the eye and you’re looking cautiously, your gaze sharp in warning. This is dangerous. This is fatal to friendships. Kishibe’s far from the first hunter to go and make bad decisions post-catastrophe, riding the lizard brain adrenaline high telling him to fuck and breed before he dies. He should know better but his feet carried him here before he could stop them. He’s an asshole for coming in the first place, daring you to go on the defensive, to speak the lie: We’re just friends.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” you say. He grasps your fingers when you try to pull your hand away.

“Just once,” he says. There’s a quiver in his voice, not a full, whimpery crack but something vulnerable and painfully teenage boyish. “Just tonight. It’ll make it good for you. Promise.” He brushes his lips across your knuckles one at a time. He nuzzles against the joints of your fingers with desperate longing. There’s time, plenty of time, for one of you to put a stop to the whole thing. He doesn’t, of course, but neither do you, and that says something, he thinks. That eases the guilt as he kisses your wrist and mouths against your pulse, watching your resolve crumble through half-lidded eyes. He drops his umbrella and moves in quick, decisive strides, pinning you against the brick wall of the live house.

“We shouldn’t,” you say, quiet and shaken. You don’t get scared like this in the field, don’t shrink back from devils. Why here? Why with him? “You don’t—”

Kishibe already has your wrist in his hand. He takes the other easily, pins them on either side of your head. But as he leans in, he tells you, “I love you,” and his grip shifts higher, tangling your fingers together. You hold on like you’ll shatter without him. You deserve a soft, civilian lover who treats you like a delicate treasure, who makes love in the quiet oasis of a curtained, lamplit bedroom. Kishibe’s not so deep in self-loathing that he thinks he’s tainted you, but the what ifs are there in the back of his mind, steadily burned away by the heat of the moment.

Your mouth—your lips, soft and slightly chapped—your tongue, coaxed into twining with his, and the saliva that runs down your chin—that’s all there is. Kishibe pushes himself against you like he means to crush you, gasping and frantic. He feels wired, like he’s still fighting for his life. Every little movement is full of heat and sensation, feeling you warm, human and alive with him. He grinds the straining bulge in his slacks against you and he can’t shut up, can’t stop shuddering and moaning and spilling all of his filthy fantasies between sucking on your tongue and biting your lip.

“Kishibe,” you say, a shaky sigh. He kisses you again, swallows whatever you were about to say. Don’t think, he wants to tell you. Just be here with him now. Just let him have this. But then you start fighting, and he hisses when you pry one wrist loose from his damaged hand, seizing the strap of his holster. “Stop. Kishibe, stop.” You shove his head away from the crook of your neck. The heel of your palm digs into his bandages and he winces, staggers back from you, sees a twinge of regret and sympathy he doesn’t deserve in your eyes.

That’s it, then. The moment fizzles out. His high fades and he’s left standing there alone in the rain. He watches you, the hurried rise and fall of your chest, how you lean against the brick wall to catch your breath. He has no plan, nothing in mind when he opens his mouth and you sense that, somehow. You always have.

“Shut up,” you snap at him. You sound so tired. You smooth a hand over your face and he sees where it lingers, sees you wiping the taste of him away where his saliva is still shining on your lips. “You’re such an asshole. Go home. Get some rest.”

He nods. He’s not really listening, but he gets the gist. You’re pissed. He fucked up. It’s over. And he wishes, like he has a million times before, that you’d just slap him or yell at him or do whatever it is civilians do in their martyrdom, hurt and unhappy when a hunter disappoints them. You’ve always straddled that line somehow. Always kept one foot in just enough to read him, to know just what to say.

“Why’d you quit?” he asks.

That seems to surprise you. It’s old news now. Two years out of the private sector and he’s never asked before. There’s a lot he’s never asked you, he’s realizing now. “I can’t live like this,” you say.

“Like what?”

And there. There it is. Civilian pity. That sweet, soft “poor thing,” spoken with just the eyes. You think you know something he doesn’t, but what’s there to know? Everyone’s a civilian when they’re born. “You should go,” you say. He nods again. He bends, picks up his umbrella, shakes it dry the best he can, like he isn’t already drenched. You’re just a blur through the rain on his lashes, a splash of color in all the stormy gray.

“Aren’t you going to ask me something?” he says.

You swallow. He traces the movement of your throat with his eyes. You look at the ground, clutching the leather bag you bought with the last traces of the life you left behind. He sees you try and fail to shape the words. The what ifs resurface in his mind, both banal and horrific: What if he worked in an office? What if you never quit, transferred into Public Safety? What if you didn’t push him away just now, or what if he didn’t care that you did?

“Promise me,” you say. You stop there. You mean to pause, to start again after a breath, but you don’t, and that’s alright. This, right here, your stupid ritual, your appeasement to the universe—this belongs to him. You can quit hunting, you can leave him behind for some fancy university, you can ask to meet him at live houses and expect him to show up and pretend you aren’t disappointed when he’s late because he was getting his shit kicked in, but this is proof of what you were. What you still are, he believes, underneath it all. He won’t let you forget.

“Next time, I’ll die on the job,” he says. “I promise.” He holds out his hand—his bad one, still bandaged. You make a quiet sound, an exhale, like you’d shake your head at him if you weren’t staring so intently at his half-smile. You reach for him and it takes all of his strength and willpower to stand there, to let you wrap your little finger around his and not shove you back against the wall again.

When he comes back to himself, you’re gone. Rain pelts the sidewalk and clatters across his umbrella. His bandages are soggy and so cold against his skin.

#rotpeach writes #csm #kishibe #dont get it twisted im just as thirsty for old man kishibe #but this is adapted from a personal thing i wrote a while back with a longer story so here he is

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smillingcartoonist · 4 months

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Chainsaw Man 123 #

I been thinking about for some time, is not kinda funny that the first thing that the Falling devil does is to put some clothes !! I do think that is some meta commentary of how in part one the first time that Quanxi Transforms she is completely naked, also same thing happens to Reze, is there is one thing I can say I don't like about part 1 is that sleaziness !! I know that it got to appeal to the thirteen year olds, But now in part 2 you don't even have none of that any more, sure Asa end up in her underwear in the beginning, but it's not like Fujimoto is trying to make her look sexy there, is kinda more humiliating for her. I think that just from that aspect you see how more mature Part 2 actually is.

But if Fujimoto really wanna even it out with all the naked women from part 1, he should just make Denji fight naked at some point in part 2 !!! that the most logical way to go !!

#chainsaw man #tatsuki fujimoto

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ququoquaw · 1 year

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Kobenxi College AU HeadCanons

In this specific AU, I think that Kobeni would be a student while Quanxi is doing god knows what to fund her education

Kobeni is a bit curious about what Quanxi does to get so much money, but she's too scared to ask

At first Kobeni felt rude making Quanxi spend all this money for her, but after a lot of reassurance from Quanxi, she decided to accept their sugar mommy - sugar baby relationship

Kobeni wouldn't declare her major immediately and would spend her first year testing out different subjects to see which works for her

Kobeni gets nervous asking Quanxi for help with her homework so Quanxi is always the first to offer her help to Kobeni

Even when Kobeni doesn't need help Quanxi still hangs out with her just so they can spend more time together

Anytime Kobeni gets a good score on one of her exams Quanxi buys her ice cream

Quanxi knows that she should help Kobeni be less codependent, but she always gets so happy whenever Kobeni drags her to school

#still new to fanfiction stuff #but i hope you still find it cute #im tryna find more ideas so that i can post kobenxi stuff at least once a week #but ive been going thru terrible writers block #pls send me more ideas #kobeni #kobeni higashiyama #kobeni csm #quanxi #quanxi csm #kobeni x quanxi #kobenxi #chainsaw man #csm

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ocdhuacheng · 1 year

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Denji! for 10, 13, and 23

10. Describe the character in one sentence

He’s a good kid even if he doesn’t look like it or act like it sometimes :’)

13. Your favorite friendship they have

Power of course :’D

23. Future headcanon

Okay I’m not sure if this one is actually implicitly canon or not considering how young quanxi looks even though she’s the same age as kishibe, but I am a firm believer that as a hybrid denji is never gonna age past 16 and once he figures that out he gets kinda upset about it. Everyone around him is growing up except him and he feels left behind, and barred from so many things (and potential relationships) because of it. Perpetually treated like a child even when hes an adult and it drives him crazy. Kind of ironic how when he was a kid with the yakuza and public safety no one (or hardly anyone) treated him like how they should treat a kid, but when he’s an adult it’s the opposite and everyone is acting like he’s still a teenager because that’s what he looks like

On a less depressing note, after highschool he gets a job as a zookeeper so he can be with animals to his hearts content, and/or once YouTube starts up, as a hobby he makes a cooking channel for some of the food he makes nayuta (a la imamu room on YouTube u should check them out they’re really cute and relaxing) because I do think living with nayuta has made him a good cook :) he’s come so far remember when he tried cooking for aki with power and they made him puke? Lol

#thank u!!#csm #denji #cc #asks #anonymous

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zawazawanightmares · 19 days

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Fanfic Writer Questions

Was tagged by @jasminethetransvampire so I'll do this because I'm always passive-aggressively trying to get people to ask me about my fics on other sites.

Oh and what she said goes double for @kikicandoit and @vmunroe and @cubistemoji: you three can participate or not, I don't want to pressure you.

How many works do you have on AO3?

841, not counting individual chapters.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,046,451

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Anything...though, according to my dashboard, I specialize in Homestuck, Chainsaw Man, Marvel Comics, Attack On Titan and Bleach. The most recent one I did outside of those categories was for an anime called Dai-Guard so...there you go.

4. What are your top 5 fics by Kudos?

Be patient with me, I don't know how to hyperlink:

For a while, the one-shot I was most proud of. With all its anachronisms and unapologetic crassness, I love this fic for being the first Kobeni/Quanxi fic I ever wrote and for fitting Chainsaw Man's aesthetic the most. I still maintain that this ship is the most likely to work in canon and their dynamic would work exactly like I showed it here. If there's one disappointment I have, it's that this isn't my most famous fic.

My longest chapter fic, the longest thing I actually wrote (counting my own goddamn novel) and probably the longest labor of love in the entire catalogue...and it's about a ship between a dead auxillary character and a supporting character. There goes my moral high ground to Ships That Pass In The Night...I worked on this fic every day, missing one for my birthday, and used a site called Mythica as a template for what to put in there. The concept is stupid, the plot is uneven, it doesn't really conclude so much as stop...and I love it more than anything. If I'm remembered for any piece of work, I want to be this. It's all my love for these interpretations of the characters put into one story. I will never regret uploading this.

Number 3 in the rankings. She's not my favorite but I'll give her this: she's earned it. Probably one of the darkest things I've written (counting Mamba Ugly) and one of my meaner depictions of Makima but either standalone or in my bizarro Chainsaw Man canon, this story shows exactly why everyone should fear the Control Devil. Talking myself up is weird; just read the fic if you haven't and tell me if you're creeped out or not.

...You know, I'm the one who wrote a mid M/M pairing for the yucks one day. I got what I deserved.

I don't really hate this fic so much I despise how it's my second most popular one. I pour sweat and tears into hundreds of F/F fics and this takes off? Really? Not Duty To The Party? I got literal death threats over that one!

Before anyone feels too sorry for me, my line of logic for this one was: "Pieck's pretty hot. It's a shame that there's not more yuri of her...how about I ship her with every named female character in the series?"

Yeah, all of them. The little girls crush on her or grow up to pursue her and everybody else...the tone shifts so I don't want to make anyone vomit but it gets pretty intense. This is kind of me at my worst, even compared to the above examples, so proceed with caution. I'm pretty sure this fic is only doing well because of all of the tags. It's definitely not the quality.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Constantly. Unless it's just "nice" or "emojis", I'll take the time to answer questions, say thank you or even just participate in good-natured dunking on me. I like questions about my headcanons and clarifying what happened in fics because I like to leave things ambiguous. If you're not just being an ass and or trying to get people riled up, leave me a note and I'll get back to you!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

If not Bonus With No Pay Raise, it's probably Starved. The meanest I got to Kobeni and the most twisted I wrote Fami. Par for the course in how I write Makima though...pretty sure I killed Kobeni at the end but at that point, it was a mercy.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The last part of Kobeni Has A Good Life, a collection of my Chainsaw Man Divergence series, has the one below called:

This gives me the fuzzies whenever I read it because I gay and it's a happy ending for Kobeni. Whatever happens next for her in this universe, I want to make sure she's content while doing it. And if you don't want to comb through THE ENDLESS DESERT that is KTQ, you're perfectly justified in stopping here.

8. Do you hate on fics?

I don't like the tags in a fic, I don't read it. Simple. I don't leave angry comments and I don't go and hate-read for the sake of it. When I see a fic that has a pairing or a situation that ticks me off, I just get inspired to write several more with my own tastes. That's my version of pettiness.

9. Do write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah.

I like intense stuff or, sparring that, weird stuff. Stuff that's fun to write and imagine, anything that gets me motor running or is entertaining to show through text. Smut is much easier for me to write so I write a lot of it, although I kind of want to more G rated stuff.

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written?

Yeah.

Probably not the wildest crossover I wrote but this should fill you in on the fact that 1.) if I write a crossover, I probably put Homestuck in it and 2.) I like putting them in anime and Marvel. Speaking of:

Did you guys know there's a grown up version of Molly Hayes?

This is the version I put with Homestuck characters in this non-continuity series. It's weird! Super weird!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think I have...but I get Spanish and Chinese comments on my fics sometimes so...maybe?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nah but if I know the person, I'd be happy to.

14. What's your all-time-favorite ship?

For Chainsaw Man, I love my stupid made-up crack ship of Kobeni Higashiyama/Quanxi/Michiko Tendo. I'm also very partial to Powerbeni and AsaYuko. For Homestuck, I'm a basic Rosemary bitch who also loves the crossover ship (that only I am powerful enough to be privy to) of Feferi Peixes/Molly Hayes. I enjoy writing Mikasa/Historia more than I should and for Bleach...Sui-Feng/Happiness (re: any woman in the Soul Society...and Kanaya (see Crossover above...or just search for the fic. It's not hard to find.))

15. What's a WIP that you want to finish but probably never will?

Either the above mentioned Spice Rack or this one story about Terezi Pyrope and Molly Hayes traveling around and going on martial arts adventures. I had fun writing it but it wasn't getting attention and there was other stuff I wanted to do so I've just left it behind.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, being "normal" about queers and portraying happy couples. I like F/F and M/M and while I get weird with it, I also want to show that weird can be happy. KTQ is mainly written for that purpose alone.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I rely on beige prose and can be too clinical when I'm trying to get through a scene. My smut scenes, ironically, tend to go by quickly because I rush through the actions to focus on the feelings. I honestly just like to show the characters hanging out through sex instead of putting it to paper, if that makes sense.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I use Google Translate and try to keep it simple. I dread the day someone in the comments tell me that I wrote complete gibberish...it's coming soon, I can feel it.

19. First Fandom you wrote for?

No More Heroes!

I wrote a couple of fics for No More Heroes, actually. It was my Chainsaw Man back in the day. I still love it now, especially for its music.

20. Favorite Fic you've ever written?

Three way tie between Alphabet, Closet Space and:

My first Homestuck/Runaways crossover, written when I was saner. It has typos, it's cringy, it's rushed at the end and YOU WILL LOVE IT OR I'LL DESTROY YOU.

#questions and answers #ao3 #homestuck #chainsaw man #marvel comics #attack on titan #bleach #fanfic

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