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#tw: romance mention
incorrectbatfam · 19 days
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Bruce: There he is, my sweet baby.
Jason, holding a cigarette and beer: What?
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comatosebunny09 · 5 months
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insecurities | astarion a.
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summary: “why don’t you like me?” he asks, his voice small amid the symphony of the forest dwellers. you choke on your spittle. how unlike your undead friend to sound so unsure of himself.
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The night is quiet.
Most of your companions have retired to their tents. Tending to their weapons, reading, sleeping.
You’re left by the fire, snapping twigs to further kindle it. You smile quietly. The atmospheric pop and fizz bring you comfort as a summery breeze slides in.
You turn away in search of more wood when you hear a weighted sigh, followed by the thunk of the log behind you.
Seems someone’s decided to impede on your party of one.
You spin around to see your favorite vampire sitting opposite you on the log, his features accentuated by the fire. Astarion watches you with a pout on his lips and his brows knit together. You snort, wholly prepared for him to complain about something.
“What’s wrong, sunshine?” you query, squatting and poking around the campfire. “Our lodgings not to your liking? You break a nail? A rat crawl up into your ass?” Your eyes crinkle with mirth. 
Astarion leans back on his hands, one leg crossed over the other. He stares at you with those petulant eyes, studying you for a beat. It’s unlike him to be so serious. Silence stretches between you for a moment longer before he asks, “Why don’t you like me?”
You nearly choke on your spittle. His brazenness floors you. Literally. You plop down on the ground, dusting off your hands, your expression bemused. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, come now.” He crosses his arms. Looks off to the side, face screwing up into a scowl. “You haven’t slept with me. You shrug off all my advances. Hells, it feels like you won’t even give me the time of day.”
Another snort. Your tone drips with sarcasm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I had to sleep with someone to show I cared.”
Astarion scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “Bullshit. Have you seen me? I’m irresistible. The very definition of sex on legs, so I’ve been told. People would kill for a chance at me. And I would’ve bedded you a thousand times over, had you stopped playing hard to get.”
You sigh. Laugh a little disbelievingly, slowly standing. “Astarion—”
“I’m not your type, am I? Do you even have a type? It’s Halsin, isn’t it? That oaf of a druid.”
You caution a few steps around the fire towards him, your hands stretched out placatingly. You’re exasperated. “Astarion, look—”  
“I don’t blame you. I would’ve bedded him, too.”
“Astarion!” 
You’re in front of him now. Bent over, gathering his icy cheeks into your palms. He looks at you with confusion marring his features. You have his attention, nonetheless.  
Your eyes gloss over with wetness. A forlorn smile rounds your lips. Your chest swells with emotion, and you tuck some errant curls behind Astarion’s ear.
“I thought we knew each other better than that.” You swallow before wetting your lips. You look down at the ground, inhaling deeply. Kneel before him, taking up his hands with all the gentleness of the world, your eyes shining with the threat of tears.
“You are more than your body, Astarion. More than some fling. More than a romp in the dirt. I wish you could see that. Sex is nice. Gods, it can be such an incredible thing. But I don’t need it to know I mean something to you. And I don’t need it to show you I adore you.”
Astarion blinks. For a moment, only the two of you exist in this world of chirping crickets and crackling fire. Tenderness flashes across his face before the vampire chuckles softly, patting your hands, squeezing them. His lashes flutter. He’s breathtaking.
“You adore me, do you?” Astarion purrs, his cockiness returning tenfold. “I am rather amazing, aren’t I?” He leans back again to have a look at his nails, radiating smugness.
You snort, standing and wiping your hands on your breeches. “You just had to muck it up, didn’t you?” You can’t help the quirk of your lips as you turn back to tend to the fire.
“Darling. Who would I be if I didn’t?”
“And to think, I was just about to kiss you.”
The indignant sound Astarion releases behind you makes your ribs blossom with pride.
Ah, well. Maybe next time.
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ameliathornromance · 22 days
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Just wanted to add quick trigger warning: mentions of domestic abuse and assault from husband, but not Orc BF because he's better than that.
This was written and inspired by Run by Daughter, I recommend listening to it while reading <3
“Careful!” Your Orc whispered to you.
Clutching onto the vines of the tower you descended from, you gave a cautious look down to him.
His arms were spread open, wide and prepared to catch you in case you fell.
You couldn’t believe that you were actually doing this. The two of you, imprisoned by the same wretched man were finally getting away.
Your husband, the Earl was an awful man. He was nasty to the servants, if one dared brush too close to him, his bellows of rage were enough to shake the earth.
When something wasn’t done exactly according to the orders the Earl had given you, he would make sure you would get his orders right next time, in the form of a strike to the side of the head.
There were days where you wondered if there was any way out of the suffrage you were forced into. Then your Orc arrived.
The Orc you had fallen for, was captured by the Earl and forced to be your body guard. Your need for a body guard had only become apparent after a run-in with some highway bandits, who took everything of value from your carriage after returning from a Royal Gala. “This creature ought to keep you safe,” your husband proclaimed lazily. After jerking the chain around the Orcs neck, he added, “don’t worry, I’ve made sure he’s tame.”
The two of you lamented over being captured and trapped by the same man. It was strange, the way you two bonded over that. Even more a miracle that the two of you got along together. Both of you shared stories of your lives before you met.
The Orc had been caught by one of many of your dear husbands hunting parties. He and his friends had ambushed him and shackled him. They had beaten him senseless the whole way back to the Manor in which you resided. You apologised for the harsh treatment of your husband. But your Orc dismissed it: “It is not any fault of yours.” He smiled, “I only thank that you are nice, treat me well and sympathise with me.”
You couldn’t recall exactly when you had fallen for your Orc Boyfriend, only that it was some time a few weeks earlier. You and your Orc had been chuckling about something on your way to the dining hall.
You couldn’t remember what it was you were laughing about. Your husband appeared from thin air – and for some reason took great offence to you enjoying yourself – as you arrived at the dining hall.
After shouting obscenities at you, he raised his hand to strike you. Closing your eyes, recoiling, you braced for the sharp flash of pain. Yet nothing happened.
Cautiously, opening your eyes, you saw that your Orc had caught the wrist of the Earl.
Everything was a blur from that point. Your Orc was taken down, dragged out of sight and returned to you later, one of his eyes swelling and turning purple. When you worried over him, he simply smiled at you, “my job is to protect you, my Lady. After all your kindness if I didn’t I…” Your Orc sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “I’d do it again in a heart beat.” It was in that moment, that the two of you knew you loved each other.
Even if you could not say it out loud, you knew he loved you.
It was in the soft touch of his hand on your back when you were anxious, in the smile he gave you as you told him excitedly about a plot twist in a book you read. How he would hold you as you cried into his chest, another scathing from your husband fresh in your mind, from when your Orc couldn’t be there to protect you.
Today had been the last straw for the both of you. Another screaming match, followed by another strike to the face, you and your Orc made the decision to run.
It was now or never. Your Orc had been trying to talk you into it for weeks. The both of you spoke about it in hushed whispers as you walked through your garden. A common, secret excursion, only afforded by your deep sleeping husband and the darkness of night.
Moonlight shone down upon you both as he told you, in a hushed voice: “He would never dare come for us.” He assured you taking your hand, “we could be free, away from that monster.”
“But my family-” You began to protest.
“They are not your family.” Your Orc glowered at you. “Those people knew what that man was like and they gave you to him anyway. What kind of loving family does that?”
He was right, you knew it he was. You hadn’t heard or seen from them in years, only doing what they had to do to be kept comfortable. Your marriage was just that: A means to keep comfortable.
This realisation, broke your resolve to stay. Given what a horrid day it had been, you couldn’t ignore it any longer, the stinging on your cheek a painful reminder. You had to get out of here.
Sucking in a deep breath and turning to that bright shining moonlight, you sighed. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
A few days passed before everything was ready to go, your Orc had been meticulous in his planning. You, yourself, couldn’t do anything to pack, those who were loyal to the Earl – a select few of the servants, who he bothered to treat with some semblance of decency – would tell on your plans. Questions would rise… You didn’t want to find out what would happen if they were asked.
But if it was your body guard, no one would dare question the Orc sauntering through the halls, clearly on an important mission.
Finally, the day came when you two would set off. You did your best to act like there was nothing amiss, doing your duties with your Orc following behind you. He was more vigilant than usual. Although your husband had gone hunting for the day, whose to say that he would return with nothing, furious with his lack of game and try to take it out on you.
When night fell, the two of you made for the salon. It wasn’t time to go just yet. The sun had coloured the sky orange, the two of you would need the cover of night. As soon as the two of you were out of sight of prying eyes, he cupped your face with his hands and kissed your lips.
“I will go and get the horse ready and collect our supplies,” Your Orc whispered to you. “When the Earl is asleep, you climb out of the window and I’ll be waiting down by the bottom of the tower.”
“What if I slip?”
“Then I will catch you, my Love.” Your Orc smiled.
Letting out a soft chuckle, you rubbed your thumbs over the back of his hand, clutching onto them. “I love you.” You told him.
“I love you too.”
The two of you departed to your respected quarters after that.
You had prepared a special drink for your husband that night. It was nothing dangerous, just a sedative your Orc had managed to get a hold of. Before bed, you offered it to your husband.
“You’ve been stressed recently.” You lied as your husband entered your bedroom. “So I made you some Camomile tea.”
The Earl hmphed. Snatching the tea cup and saucer from your hand, he gulped it down in one go, without saying a word to you. This was how he was when he wasn’t berating you.
You were glad you’d never have to breathe the same air as this man ever again.
Within moments of getting into bed, he was asleep.
And here you were now, descending the tower wall. The drop, coupled with the soft blushes of wind made you question why you couldn’t have just taken the stairs. But the thought of being spotted making an escape made you shudder.
As if sensing your unease, he vine in your left hand quivered, then snapped. You let out a shriek, causing you to lose your grip, your feet slipping. Grasping onto any remaining vines you could, your body soared away from the safety of the tower.
Your Orc caught you within seconds, your shout silenced with a hand clapped to your mouth, mortified by your mistake.
Heart thumping in your chest, you looked up at your Orc Boyfriend. His eyes were fixed on the bedroom window. Neither of you moved, still as statues, waiting for someone to come looking for the source of distress.
The wind blew, trees rustled and leaves billowed in the breeze. But no guard came by, and your husband did not stir.
Sighing with relief, your Orc set you down on the ground and whispered, “you’re not hurt, are you love?”
You shook your head, “sorry.” You breathed.
Your Orc Boyfriend shook his head, smiling, “let’s get out of here, quickly. Last I knew, my clan were headed East.”
Holding his hand, the both of you took off into the forest, never to be subject to the torture of man again.
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elumish · 5 months
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There's a thought I keep struggling to articulate that basically boils down to "it's not logistically inconsistent to say both 'rape fantasy stories are fine' and 'there should be less sexual assault and domestic abuse between love interests in romance novels'."
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lux-brumalis444 · 8 months
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Red.
Your lips.
Your hands.
My chest.
You are my angel of destruction.
So breathtakingly covered in blood.
And while you devoure my heart,
I am on my knees in front of you.
Looking up to you and praying for your love.
Let me be a part of you.
Let me be yours for eternity.
And so I shall die a thousands times as long as it's your hands that take my life.
As long as it’s your arms that hold me while I take one painfully last breath.
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gothsugarbunnidisco · 3 months
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why did so many 2012 bandom girls make these and why do i think they’re so funny
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junkdrawernoggin · 8 months
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Thoughts regarding Astarion headcanons
I'm not going to say this right but this has been bothering me so I'll try my best
A kind request: Please do not speak ill of people for making sexual content with Astarion.
If you headcanon him as ace, that's valid. If you headcanon him as sex repulsed, that's valid. If you headcanon him as not engaging in sex because of his trauma, thats valid.
Just please keep in mind that an SA survivor healing and reclaiming their sexual autonomy is also a powerful and important story for some people. It is just as valid of an interpretation of Astarion's story.
I've seen some really weird posts lately that have said various things like romancing Astarion at all is breaking boundaries, that "pushing" for a sex scene with him is immoral, that writing any kind of fanfic that includes him having sex is inherently terrible.
I've been reading fics from both sides and they all have been fantastic interpretations of the character. Each camp uses Astarion to fill a hole in representation which is something we should always be excited for. A character that is widely relatable to different communities is a win.
Edited: took out personal junk
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wildflowercryptid · 28 days
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sometimes, i think about the extra bit of depth alex's romance is given when you date him as a guy and i just gotta. stare at the ceiling for a bit...
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surplus-of-sarcasm · 11 months
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Romance Your Demons
TW: Blood, bruises, asphyxiation attempt, gun mention, violence
Happy late birthday, 🎂 @thelazywitchphotographer
"Darling," Villain growled, baring their teeth in a predatorial fashion.
"Dear," Hero replied languidly, although their eyes were glued to the criminal's balled-up fists, to their arched body, ready to pounce.
They were far too reminiscent of an old, married couple, something everyone and their mother never ceased to point out, much to both the crime-fighter and the evil-doer's chagrin.
The villain rammed into them, the hero's body slamming into the wall with an audible thud, the force just shy away from breaking something.
"Well, this is intimate," the hero scoffed, swinging their leg and slamming it harshly into their adversary's ribs, letting the criminal fall to the ground, spitting blood and a flurry of filthy curses out of their mouth.
The dagger-sharp smirk on the hero's smug face was arguably a more painful blow than that merciless kick. Villain had always been told that their pride would be the end of them.
Well, now it would be the end of Hero too.
Wiping the blood from their mouth, their fingers clawed around Hero's neck, digging into their skin, leaving scratches and bruises in their wake, ripping out shallow breaths from the hero's lungs as their pale face slowly turned a sickly shade of blue.
"You're not laughing now, are you, sucker?" they seethed, loosening their death grip around their enemy's throat by a mere fraction.
Gasping and taking greedy breaths of air, the hero still had the audacity to flash a dirt-eating grin. "No, I s'ppose not."
It made the villain wish to squash the life right out of the crime-stopper's body, to beat them to a bloody pulp on the sidewalk, to empty a gun (that they unfortunately lacked right now) into the jerk's head.
But it also made them want to pull them up against their chest and kiss the hero's cheekbones and bring that oh so pretty blush to their face and neck, one that they'd only seen because Hero was exerting themselves and not because they were flustered.
The hero had dark circles under their eyes and dry skin. They'd lost weight, and not in any way that was healthy, dropping muscle from what was once a gorgeously lean figure. They were young, but their eyes were a hundred years older.
But they were struggling in the criminal's vice-like grip, still fighting for what most would deem a lost cause, still grinning in that stupidly carefree way they did when they were just starting out, barely in high school and nowhere near as broken. And it was beautiful.
The villain wanted to curse themselves, so they did.
"What? Are we just gonna keep cuddling here together for all eternity?" Hero supplied in a mostly sarcastic tone, but the strange edge it had could almost be read as flirtatious.
Villain released them from the bruising grip on their neck, their nemesis took in great breaths of air, their body shuddering as they almost fell to the ground, only for the evil-doer to catch them with a steadying arm wrapped around their waist.
They couldn't even tell when the hero's face went scarlet.
"So, where's the part where you commit homicide?" they asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'll save that for later, dove. Right now, you're all I can think about," they admitted, almost guiltily.
Surprisingly, they weren't met with another infuriatingly attractive, lopsided smirk. The look on the crime-fighter's face was nothing, if not utterly dazed.
"M-me? But I'm a mess. Like that one article so eloquently put it, I'm a cocktail of problems in a spandex suit with a few witty catchphrases," they replied, laughing humourlessly.
Villain's grip around their waist tightened subtly. "You're just tired. Sure, you could find great use for a physiotherapist, a haircut, a whole, new diatery plan, some basic skin care an-"
"Yeah, a whole makeover. No need to rub it in, though," they attested, only mildly irritated.
The villain rolled their eyes. "My point is, even through all this, you still manage to shine like a diamond in the rough."
"Oh so personality over looks? Got it," they chuckled slyly.
The criminal paused in their walk and pulled their enemy forward by the collar, "Do I have to spell it out for you? You're so goddamn hot even when you're not supposed to be, so awfully dishevelled, and yet here I am," they whispered, their lips almost brushing the hero's ear.
A tense moment of awkward silence passed as the crime-fighter pulled away from them, their eyes wide and their lips parted, trying uselessly for a few false starts. "So, where to now?" they said, straightening their posture gracefully and attempting to regain their composure, like the flustered mess of emotions from just a moment ago had never been.
"My place. We'll fix you up a little, and then we can go get something to eat," the villain replied, failing to keep the smile out of their voice.
"What happened to me being all glowing?" the hero teased.
"You're very lucky you're pretty," Villain snarled through gritted teeth, their hand resting on the back of Hero's neck.
They quickly tensed up, until the villain started to rub their neck, as though apologising for the damage they'd previously caused. The dark scowl was quickly wiped off their face as they watched the tightness dissipate from the hero's form. How had they not taken that adorable, little idiot out before?
"You're still good-looking, Hero. But you owe it to yourself to at least take care of yourself. Live a little." There was no mocking or cruelty, no sharp edges to their smile and nothing but gentleness in the villain's golden, honey brown eyes, making the hero's own hazel ones go as wide as saucers.
No one's ever talked to Hero like that, cared about them this way, or looked at them like they were a treasure. So, they nodded, hooked their hand into the villain's, placed a quick kiss on their forehead and allowed themselves to be lead forward.
The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Strong emotions often find themselves mixing together, melting into one another. The fine line between love and hatred defines itself by desire, a treacherous walk to make, but all the more worth it. And the heart can so strangely burn a different flame, beat for a whole new cause, adore what it used to despise, and admit what it so vigorously used to deny.
✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @catsarecool00 @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69
Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!
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nainwoo · 1 year
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CRASH COURSE IN ROMANCE EPISODE 14 You were never like this. You'd starve for days and receive IV drips just to teach. You always worked endlessly without taking a break. You were always professional and never let your private matters affect your work. But you were swayed by Ms. Nam Haeng-seon and kept making exceptions. Seeing you like that flustered and upset me.
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Claudia: Where's Lestat? Loius: Upstairs on the hotel balcony throwing a melodramatic fit about a fight we just had Lestat, wailing into the midnight sky before letting his body tumble two stories down into the street, making the humans skitter terrified around his splatted (for now) body: Loius: See? Loius: He'll be back up when the crowd disperses. Wanna go to the theater? Claudia: I was just going to ask you that
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blueparadis · 1 year
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| GOLD RUSH | REI SUWA |
[ synopsis ] — Rei Suwa some how accepted advent of Miri in his life, had made peace with the presence of his partner, Kazuki long before Miri walked into their life. He was not willing to do it anymore, not under any circumstances but hearts does not align with our minds, does it now?
[ content & themes ] — undertones of fluff cuz i love miri, f!reader ( s!her pronouns ), canon typical violence, death, murder, profanity, mention of smoking, alcohol, sexual tension, mutual pinning,rei is so fvcking oblivious that I wanna bang my head on a pillow. characters include :: Kazuki Kurusu, Kyutaro Kugi, Miri Unasaka, Anna Hanyu. word count :: 1.5k
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One. Two. Three. . . and four. Four turns it took for Rei to adjust the lens of his sniper. His eyebrows which were already congested seemed to become more devoted to the cause. Kazuki might not have packed the most comfortable sniper Rei likes to use. That fucking dim wit. A low grunt escapes past his lips as he aligns the nozzle upon the railing of the rooftop. 
The weather is sunny yet sultry, not particularly of what Suwa prefers to have while executing his job, that is to scratch off another name from the list Kyutaro has given him. On any other day, Kazuki would have accompanied him but not today. Today is special. . . special because Miri claims that she is turning six years old. 
It was so random that both the assassins thought that it was one of the other tactics to have a chocolate cake that she was denied the other day. Lately, Kazuki has been strict and he is nothing less than an angry bird as imagined by Miri. But Miri can be stubborn sometimes and hence Kazuki stayed behind to cook chocolate cupcakes for her. She does not crave gigantic three layered cakes, just small cupcakes that would perfectly fit in her small dainty hands. How odd ! How childish!
“Are you ready?” Kazuki conjectured from the other side. Rei can not recall anything happy of sort about his birthdays or birthdays in general. In all honesty, he never really understood the undying joy on birthdays. What exactly is there to celebrate? We're all gonna die at some day or it could be at the next moment. We're just getting closer to it each day, each month, each year. What's the point of celebration? 
“Hm.” That was . . . inert for someone who never liked babysitting. Kazuki even proposed that he can go and do the job in his way while Rei could sit at home, look after Miri and play video games. Was he mad about getting hired for this job? Who can tell? Well, definitely not Rei since he rarely speaks his mind.
“Alright. I’m going to call.” Kazuki clears his throat before dialing the number of their target. One. two and a half ring — “hello”
“Hello. Good Morning.We are calling from the pollution center. I would like to inform you that the car registered under your name has been . . . 
“But I don't remember sending my car for a pollution check.”
“Perhaps it was your daughter. . . Naomi Kento.”
And those dull black eyes are now watching the target like an eagle hunting for its prey. The lens zooms in. The target, Mr. Kento Fujiwara is now loitering from one end of his room to the other. Rei could have easily taken a shot through his neck but his bodyguard is quite persistent, maybe a little too good for her job. Rei moves his eyes from the lens while two sets of his fingers reach up to his ears, “ Kazuki. What’re ya doin? He is moving too much. Talk less.” God, the sun is burning his skin and thinning his patience. He is not particularly aware of the reason behind his edgy mood and now is definitely not the time to think about it.
“Oh! It wasn’t your daughter. I see. I apologize. There must be some sort of mistake in your system. We will send one of our staff to . . .
And Mr.Kento Fujiwara is still standing in front of his gigantic glass window but his bodyguard is keeping Rei from getting a clean shot. Does she know? Or was she planted by Kyutaro to test his skills? The other day he commented how rei had become a little rusty and needed to get back on his track. Wouldn’t be surprised if he were to do this. Rei moves away from the sniper lens once again and exhales deeply, long enough to make a decision : death or deaths.
The girl turned around on her heel and was approaching the gigantic window. Suwa thought she might have been asked to draw in the curtains which meant he had to wait another two hours for getting a good clean shot. Needless to say, he was not going to settle for it. Still he chose death. He watches the bodyguard to keep her hostler on the table nearby and adjusts her body suit. God, he can’t wait to put a bullet through that man’s heart. Kyutaro was right about him. He is a shark as well as a parasite. BANG!
Rei watches the target fall to the floor like a tree chopped from its root. Tsk! His eyebrows grow flat for a few seconds when he hears Kazuki saying, “Mr. Fujiwara? Mr.Fujiwara? . . .Are you there?” He isn’t. Kazuki disconnects the call. The number he used belonged to one of the staff from the pollution center, as provided by their friendly bartender : Kyutaro Kugi. 
“Odd.”, Suwa comets watching all the guards in black suits flood the room that has a corpse lying on the ground.
“What is?” more than him, Kazuki is on edge. Suwa is glad that Kakuki did not tag along in this job. It would have taken more time to take out the target.
“Well, not our problem.”, Suwa amends. He is already lighting his cigarette, having his sniper rifle on his back. He is fast. He has always been fast. 
‘Breaking news : Kento Fujiwara, one of the leading business tycoons, was murdered yesterday morning. It seems that he died because of the injury in the head. . .
The news continues to broadcast further details, clarifying what is going to happen to his estates as well as his family members but none of that registers into Suwa’s brain. He is stuck at the ‘injury in the head’ part , which means, ‘shot at the head’  Sure, he is having a tough time but he is not too weak to miss his shot that was aimed at the belly, not the head. He can not be that reckless. Plus, it has been a long time since he shot someone right in the head. It can’t be. Something just doesn't fit.
“Rei. . .” Kazuki draws in the curtains of the room basking the room with the rays of azure noon. 
“What?” Rei utters with the same bored expression that he always has on his face, but this time he bothers to tilt his head with a furrow in between his brows. Its unlike him. He is annoyed. He does his job with the least possible muscle movements, at all times, and most of his energy investment goes to games and Miri.
“I’m going to pick up Miri. I got a call from daycare. So, you have to pay a visit to the bar.” Kazuki shuts the door behind him before leaving. What a drag!
The bar has never been crowded, and has not been lonely either. The reason he hates coming here is of course Kugi’s horde of questions. More than that, he thinks he should not be collecting money for killing people, in certain cases but not all. He does not regret killing Kento Fujiwara even though it was not his bullet that caused the death. He takes a deep breath before entering the bar and his reason of irritation is not there, Kugi is not there.
“Welcome. . . ehh—
“Rei Suwa.”, his voice pitches in. With casual steps, hands inside the pocket of his hoodie he walks in and sits in front of the new face, the new bartender, a girl . . . no! a lady. “I’m here for Kyu- . . . Kyu-chan.” He averts making eye-contact instead focuses his mind to light a cigarette.
“I’m sorry. . . but you can’t smoke— 
So, She is not a newcomer or perhaps really needed this job or perhaps a normal person. I don’t think he is okay with a woman working in his bar . . . without actually knowing what he does.
The smoke swirls in the form of a circle as Rei lets out a drag. His eyes are on hers, watching, thinking how come he has never heard of a girl related to this obsidian world. He takes in another drags and quickly scans her. 
“I can.” Suwa boldly remarks with his eyes settled on her relaxed posture with his harmless bored expression that he thinks is quite infuriating, enough to get a reaction out of her.
She is still not annoyed . . . not even repeating herself. Kyu must have a tough time putting up with her. . . mood. She turns her head towards the door that leads to the wine cellar. One. . .two . . .she blinks and Kyutaro emerges from the room with two flagons.
“Had a feeling I'd be seeing you.”, he remarks, keeping the box of wine bottles on the counter. “Why did you let him smoke, y/n ?” Kyutaro shifts his eyes on the lady who stands still with a face that seems apologetic in so many ways. 
Bingo. y/n. y/n is her name. breaking the rule was worth it.
“Moreover. . .” , his eye brows ran closer. “Why’re you smoking?” 
“Sorry. My bad. Had a rough day.”, Suwa quips, putting off the fire on the ashtray that y/n slided while ago. Smart and swift.
Kyutaro adjusts his spectacles. He proceeds to the inner side of the counter. “Here.” he hands over two envelopes to Suwa, a smile of gratitude visible on his face. Suwa bows and leaves the bar within a minute.
It’s not a surprise that he has a girl by his side. After all, he has always been popular among girls, that lucky fucker.
[ notes ] — might ( emphasis on might ) have a part ii ( if it does, i'll continue on ao3) but feel free to send me thoughts about them. I love the characters so much that I could write four page essays on them. This fic was a bit rushed but I had the idea after watching the first episode so I got time to prepare it in my head ( yeah thanks to my insomnia ). If you want to read more of my writings click here. And, if you like reading it, please like & reblog, leave a comment. thank you :›
⌗ — @planetxiao @semisgroupie @cherrykamado
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van1llam1lkk · 7 months
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Little Lamb
[ sfw | TW ; Size difference, Erisa isn't a human, Sexual undertones, Descriptions of Violence, Power Imbalance, Cult implications, Brief mention of terrorism, general Yandere content]
Double post today cause I forgot to post yesterday
Female Yandere x GN reader
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If Erisa were to be honest, she didn’t have a clue what humans were on about. With their constant talk and inconsistent morals— They just seemed so strange and confusing.
And so it just frustrates her when she has to deal with one, maybe if she were in their shoes their attitude towards her would make more sense. As she gets the sense that maybe not everyone is used to seeing a 12' giant adorned with four arms.
But that reason did little to ease her annoyance, not only were you people inconsistent, annoying, and chatty. But you were so unreasonably easy to persuade. In most cases, she didn't even have to do much, as her 'lovely' followers would willingly commit terrorism without the promises of wealth, motivated purely by the want to be acknowledged by their goddess.
So when she first met you, all wide-eyed and nervous, unsure if you should be grateful to be in her presence or scared — Like the many followers before you. She expected to be anything but infatuated with you. Finding your discomfort around her cute in a strange sense, like a sweet, little lamb.
So when you tried applying your insignificant little Human values onto her, a being who had literally witnessed the American Revolution she couldn't help but snicker.
Really, it wasn’t her fault that she found such a small being like yourself absurdly cute. So fragile and tiny that it would take practically no effort for her to hold you down, despite your constant struggles and cries.
Of course, She'd never do anything against your will— unless she wanted to, But that's gotta count for something!
The urge within her was undeniable—a longing to cradle your fragile being against her cool, divine skin, sheltered beneath the folds of her Yukata, where none but her hands could touch you. And the fact that you were unaware of her thoughts, both violent and provocative ones and the great amount of effort she puts in so she doesn't act on them drove her crazy. She felt more like a dog in heat than a divine being when it came to you.
She tilts her head in response as you talked about your day, her attention being feigned as she wasn't paying attention to a single word you were saying. Your hands work behind your back to tie the apron neatly around your waist, You were making something — A tiramisu if she remembered correctly, she never understood why humans were so delicate that they needed a consistent supply food to survive.
When she first made an impression on your species it definitely confused her how often her followers needed to eat. Often complaining when there isn't enough food despite eating five hours ago.
As she watched you work, her eyes trailed down from your face to your hands. They were so fragile, so easily breakable. It would be so easy to snap your fingers one by one, to see the look on your face as your pain muddled in with your rising fear.
She wanted to savor every inch of you, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a memory of what once was. She could practically taste your fear from that one possibility, your heart racing faster and faster with each passing moment as human instinct pushed you to try to fight for your life.
But as much as she wanted to indulge in her fantasies, Erisa knew that she couldn't. Not yet, at least. It's been awhile since someone as pretty as you came into her grasp and she didn't want to so carelessly throw it away. And so she continued to sit there on the plush floor mats, listening to your meaningless chatter and enjoying the way your body moved as you worked.
Eventually, you finished your task and turned to face her, a smile on your face. Erisa returned it, though her mind was elsewhere. Setting the plate down onto the tray and taking your seat next to her she watches you eat with mild interest, absentmindedly nodding her head and agreeing with everything you were saying as you chatted.
Her gaze occasionally dropping towards your lips, a habit of hers she'll never truly understand. She wasn't sure if her way of releasing these pent-up thoughts was just by being a degenerate. Acting so filthy like the damned humans she herself detested, but the imagery of having you sitting atop her thigh— Whispering sweet nothings against your ears as large hands hold your waist steady, wasn't something she entirely hated the idea of.
Stretching out her arms — careful to not hit your head, she stands up, her second pair of arms dusting off her robe as she announced she'd be leaving to deal with some business.
It was a blatant lie, but you didn't need to know that. And as much as she doesn't wanna leave you, seeing the hint of disappointment in your eyes whenever she leaves you makes up for it. Doe eyes staring up at her with brows slightly furrowed in frustration at her insistence to work —If only you knew it was just an excuse to get away from you before she did something stupid. but despite your frustration you still with that sweet tone of yours bid her farewell.
She swears your an angel sent from the heavens themselves. A blessing only meant to be received by her own four hands.
And to think that you were wholly hers— Truly a testament.
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lovecore-loverboy · 7 months
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Darling, why would I worry about sinning when you're already my heaven?
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skully-64 · 4 months
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Hmm. Something that I don't see talked enough about is how transgender the begining of kill all your friends by my chemical romance is. I'm gonna talk about it now.
so. I'm not gonna use any context from the rest of the black parade, or the story at all, this is just 100% me thinking too hard about songs and things.
(oh, also, there will be mentions of transphobia.)
"well, you can hide a lot about yourself But honey, what're you gonna do?"
this line I interpret in a couple ways. dysphoria, or trying to stay closeted. For dysphoria it's more of a physical thing. You're hiding your physical body. All the things about your appearance that don't fit with what you want. Or trying to stay closeted? You're hiding who you are.
"And you can sleep in a coffin But the past ain't through with you"
this one I interpret as your past as your AGAB. It takes a lot to transition, so throughout the whole process there's a lot that reminds you of if. An "F" or "M" on a driver's license. Old pictures. Old memories. Even transphobic relatives.
"'Cause we are all a bunch of liars Tell me, baby, who do you wanna be?"
I've been waiting to get to this one. It's my favorite part of the whole song.
"'Cause we are all a bunch of liars" there are three ways I like to interpret this. 1. Being closeted. 2. Imposter syndrome. 3. Internalized transphobia.
so being closeted. It can sometimes feel like you're lying about who you are to almost everyone around you.
Imposter syndrome. You worry that you're not really trans. That you're faking it for whatever reason. That your dysphoria isn't real, or that it's not enough to really be trans, and that "real" trans people have it worse.
Internalized transphobia. you feel like being trans is lying to everyone about who you are.
"Tell me, baby, who do you wanna be?" this one I like to think is someone decided to live as themself. As who they are.
"And we are all about to sell it 'Cause it's tragic with a capital T"
now this doesn't feel as trans to me specifically as the rest of this verse does, but it could very well be the media or something taking a trans person's story and using it for money or fame or something.
And as like a little bonus,
"'Cause we all want a party when the funeral ends"
Something I unfortunately see a lot with trans people, is their transphobic relatives saying that they feel like the person they knew died when they transitioned. So. Let them have a funeral, and you party with your friends, your family, who love you for who you are.
"And we all get together when we bury our friends"
I just like the idea of this being mocking twords the transphobic relatives. I think it's funny. Pointing out how they feel like you're dead when you're literally just right there.
Anyway. Those are just my silly little thoughts on it. I just really like this song.
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hojiteaversion · 3 months
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DLS + tweets
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