#they need the vitamin d desperately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pseudowho · 24 days

Text

Monster

Your colleague, Higuruma Hiromi, has seemed so tired, for so long. You'd do anything to help him...right?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Higuruma, blood consumption, male masturbation, female masturbation, thigh fucking, PIV, m!receiving oral, f!receiving oral, sex-pollenish/aphrodisiac effects and vampirism

(dis)honourable mention to @delirious-donna for helping me to decide on the location of this flagrant sluttiness.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Higuruma Hiromi was driven to skin-clawing distraction by daydreams of the taste of you, in more ways than one.

You never knew this, of course. Late-nights alone in the office invariably turned into debauched scenes of Hiromi, fucking into his fist and wishing it was your pussy instead; teeth piercing his own blood from his hand and being lapped up by his whining mouth, wishing it was your throat instead. Too many times had he needed to wipe droplets of blood and milky cum off his paperwork, shuddering with the remnants of his orgasm, his cock still semi-hard in his fist.

His latest cunning plan to sate this desperate hunger, had been unsuccessful. Sat at your desk, and breathing deeply of one of the scarves you had left in your drawer, had set his cock hardening against his thigh humiliatingly fast. Hiromi had tugged at the roots of his own hair, head thrown back and growling in frustration. Fumbling around in his bag, he had clumsily slopped lube into a pocket-pussy, and withdrawn the unit of packed red blood cells he had managed to steal from the local hospital.

Messy, and sweaty, Hiromi had drunk from this pack, while the slick sounds of his frantic self-pleasuring and fractured, sandy moans filled the empty office. Your scarf, steeped in the smell of you, remained draped over his face and nose the whole time.

With each passing day you grew sweeter, and riper. He could not cope. He could not cope. He would not last.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

One day, you hoped, you might arrive in the office before Hiromi. Whatever the time of year, he arrived before the break of dawn, and left after the sun had set. Vitamin D supplements had entered into your head as the next possible way to help him, and you shook yourself for being so ridiculous-- although...

"I...you don't have to buy me coffee every morning," Hiromi whispered, something tender coiling in his belly when you slipped a large black coffee and a bagged pastry onto his desk, "let alone breakfast."

"Well," you hummed, benign, "would you eat or drink if I didn't feed you?" Hiromi narrowed his eyes, a challenging little smile within them. A scoff.

"If I lied to you, would you believe me?"

"You're a great lawyer, Hiromi. But not smart enough to lie to me."

His laughter, rich and genuine, burst in you, a stunning puff of petals. You couldn't laugh with him, as your heart stalled in place. How could you not help him, when a match struck in his eyes, just from looking at you?

"Not that I ever would." Hiromi assured, low and smooth. His eyes never left yours once. His gravity threatened to pull you straight into his arms. "Lie to you, that is. You're the only thing that..." Hiromi trailed off, clearing his throat. He looked back to his papers, pale. You missed the tremor in his hands. You couldn't feel how he held himself back from taking you, in every way, here on his desk.

If only he knew you would let him.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

How the fuck did he find himself in the driving rain, three floors up, looking through your balcony windows? How the fuck had it gotten this bad? You were a drug. Forbidden fruit. Hiromi had not drunk from a person in so long, instead surviving on a knife's edge, from stolen blood bags and wild deer. He couldn't recall what came first; needing to be inside you, or needing you inside him. It all equated to hunger, anyway. He was starved.

Even a morsel would do. That's how he found himself outside your bedroom, in a storm, watching you fuck yourself in your bedroom when you should have been sleeping. The rainwater seeped through his black suit, doing nothing to cool the hot, velvet throb between his legs. His hair was swept back off his forehead, drenched, squinting against the biting wind as he marvelled at the image of you.

Clearly, you were unable to distract yourself from the ache in your belly, and the little memories of past orgasms that throbbed through your clit. Every time the thought of Hiromi fucking into you had crossed your mind, you reached for something in your drawer that would never satisfy that urge like he would.

You lay on your belly, stretched and stuffed all the way to your cervix with a dildo and rabbit. You had spent your generous paycheck on an expensive toy, one that thrusted. You knew, deep down, humping the dildo inside you with a pillow between your legs, that it would never be able to replicate the real thing. You felt the blunt little punch of the mechanical dildo against your belly, fucking it into you, as if it would soothe your spiritual famine. Your pleasure was dulled, without the accompanying tenderness of the man that you wanted...needed.

You wore an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else, and Hiromi watched how your back arched and undulated, rolling your cunt against the pillow. You gripped another pillow between your arms, biting into it, mewling at the deliciousness of being filled with something, anything. Hiromi's animalistic senses could hear your little cries, and the muffled buzz of your toys. He could smell the silky arousal that spilled out around your dildo. He could taste you on the air, almost.

It took every ounce of self-restraint not to allow his inhuman strength to take over, punch a hole through the glass and step in, silhouetted against the moonlight. Hiromi would allow his own musk, a curious trap in the art of seduction and predation, to seep over you. Hiromi would watch as you became pliable, supple. You wouldn't fight as he shushed you, pulling the dildo from you and licking it clean. You would whimper for him to replace the emptiness he had left behind, and he would, of course, oblige you. He would press you down by the back of your neck, as if you would ever resist him, and promise you that it wouldn't hurt. He would drink down your cries and your blood as he fucked you down against the sheets, his mouth lapping so fervently at your throat.

He hadn't even noticed how close to his own peak he had come, but as you tensed and keened against your pillow, he felt the dangerous tug of his balls tightening against the base of his cock. He wasn't even touching himself, how could he possibly--

"...H-Hiromi...haaaaah please please fuck me please...oooooohhhh 'm cumming--"

Hiromi came with a shout, with next to no warning, to hear you cry out his name. He convulsed, hunched and doubled-over, cursing and feeling thick ropes of his seed pulse through his jerking cock, diluting with rainwater and trickling down his thighs. He was stunned, panting against the glass, and he nearly swallowed his own heart when he heard the rustle of sheets, and a timid little voice pipe through the dark.

"Hello? Who's there?"

By the time you had pulled the dildo from yourself with a shiver, and opened the balcony door, there was nothing left behind but the churning storm. Clinging to the underside of your balcony, still panting and covered in his own cum, Hiromi knew that something deep within him had fractured completely.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You were astounded to find yourself alone in the office as the sun set. Hiromi had left before you, with a sickly-looking smile, and a languid wave of that long, pale hand. While you were thrilled that he was going home at a normal time, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He knew you were staying to work late on a case...and had, apparently, chosen this one night to leave before nightfall.

Night had, indeed, fallen fast. The sunset blotted out quickly behind grey rolling clouds. Another storm swept in, dragging the night along with it. You opened a window, seeking the earthy petrichor to balm your weary soul. You sunk your lovesickness into a bitter coffee, as if it was enough to replace the lackadaisical cleverness of the man who haunted your every waking moment.

You tried to distract yourself, awash in case notes. The hours dragged, long and lonely. Rubbing your eyes as the clock struck midnight, you stood to collect the key to lock the office, only to find it missing.

"Shit..." you murmured, sitting back at your desk to rummage in the drawers. You rummaged in all the drawers-- your boss's, your colleagues, Hiromi's...

The lights above you went out with a click. One by one, throughout the length of the office, the lights went out, out, out, and you were plunged into darkness. You felt a lick of ice down the nape of your neck, and every hair stood on end. You were being watched.

"Shit...shit... where's the key... where's the fucking key?" You hissed to yourself, terror crawling across your skin.

Hiromi was barely himself anymore as he stalked you from the shadows. His belly was a cavernous pit. The unholy combination of starvation and desire stirred the monster within. He lay in waiting, allowing you to be drawn in, running to him while you thought you were running away.

You had tried every nook, every pigeon hole, every secret hook throughout the office, but fear made you sloppy. You couldn't go home too late, when the streets were empty. Not with all the tales of hungry beasts hunting for lone prey in the night.

Why, then, as you approached the expansive boardroom at the end of the corridor, did you find yourself becoming so...mellow? You felt light, airy. You floated on an otherworldly, heady musk, so alluring. It reminded you of someone...but who? You couldn't remember, so many drinks deep into this odd botanical tonic. It throbbed through you, intoxicating and warm and your heart was beating between your legs by the time you swayed into the boardroom, undoing your hair, loosening the buttons of your blouse--

"...I'm sorry. I can't let you leave."

You blinked, slow and drunk. Frowning as your vision cleared, you saw Hiromi, illuminated by moonlight. He sat in the executive's chair, at the head of the great boardroom table. A flash of lightning set his features in dramatic clarity, his Roman nose casting deep shadows across his profile. Still, you thought, with your little hum or surprise, he looked pale. Tense. Tortured.

"...Hiromi...Hiro..." you whispered, padding over to him, barefoot. You couldn't remember when you had shed your shoes. Hiromi's skin prickled. The way your voice, sweet and breathy, ran straight to his cock, had him biting one finger between gradually lengthening canines, his other fingertips steepled against his deeply frowning forehead.

"...wouldn't leave anyway...not when I've...finally got you all to myself..." You slurred, grinning, a happy drunk. Hiromi couldn't help but bite one lip, smiling back at you, as you sat with a thud on his lap. His deadly, predatory pheromones increased against his will, to feel your soft, plush curves pressed to his lap. Hiromi trailed one arm around your waist. The part of him that screamed for him to stop, was trapped in a glass box in his mind.

"Yeah?" Hiromi whispered, one pale hand cupping your jaw. "You've been wanting me all alone? Tell me." She wants this it's okay it's not a trap she'll help me she'd always help me god she's so beautiful--

"I have. For months. I dream about you." The words left your mouth unbidden, dragged from you by some irresistible force. Hiromi drank them down, needing to hear you confess your desire for him.

"And what do you do?" Hiromi urged, his voice rough with need. "What do you do, when you dream of me? Tell me. Now."

"I touch myself and...and wish it was you, instead." Hiromi shivered.

"Until you cum? To the thought of my cock inside you? Until you're calling out for me?" You nodded, hurried and floppy. Hiromi cursed under his breath, a thumb brushing over your lips, salivating at the memory of you on your bed, crying out his name.

"Yeah," you promised, almost tearful now with the weight of your confessions, "I do, I cum so hard, but it's not enough, it's not the same as-- as--"

You slid a hand up Hiromi's chest, his sloppy tie and partially unbuttoned shirt, and were surprised by how cool he felt. He groaned beneath your touch, and you shivered, turning and pressing your chest to his. Hiromi panted beneath you, his face contorted, barely restrained. His hands felt so strong, trapping you to him by your waist, and you were sure there would be bruises left behind.

"Let me taste you," Hiromi convinced, his voice low and persuasive, "just once...you're going to help me." His fingers tangled in your hair now, angling your face up, and you blinked slowly, dazed and unquestioning. His teeth were sharp, bared. You could feel the length of his cock, throbbing against your belly. The frantic rise and fall of his chest made you feel like you were on a little boat, rocking over waves.

You had barely begun to nod, before he pulled you in for a kiss so deep, your head swam. Hiromi groaned into your mouth, forcing your lips to part with his own, devouring you with bliss and fervour. You had never felt so alive, your little heart beating like hummingbird wings. The taste of him was sinful. He wanted to carve out your soul and tie it to his, enshrined, fit for worship. By the time his tongue had plunged into your mouth, you were loose and supple on his lap.

Every ounce of uncertainty had left you. Just as Hiromi's mouth began to trail across your jaw, towards your neck, your hand slipped beneath his belt. Hiromi's lips released the lovebite he had just made above your pulse point with a pop, and his head flung back against the executive's chair's headrest. The moan that left his lips was more pornographic than you had ever dreamt. His silky foreskin seared beneath your touch.

"--f-fuck, god, I-- squeeze me harde--- oooohh-ooohhh shit...hnnnn--'

Hiromi's hands gripped the armrests, white-knuckled, and the two monsters inside him fought a bloody fight to see you slip to your knees between his own, batting his thighs aside. Your hand had released his cock, and if he didn't have it back again, or your blood in his mouth, he would break.

"Will you help me, or not?" He hissed at you, imploring you to spill your soul to him. Lost in this curious haze, you found yourself unable to refuse him an answer.

"...always help you, Hiromi." You mumbled, your fingers deftly undoing his belt. Your teeth unzipped his trousers, and the way Hiromi blushed when your eyes shot him such a filthy look, made you giggle. Maybe I'm the one in danger, he thought vaguely. You hummed, rubbing the pre-cum wet tip of his freed cock against your lips, glossing them. Hiromi's teeth bared again in a snarl, and he panted, bucking up into your hand. You teased him, stroking his length slowly, rolling his aching balls in one hand. Hiromi was frayed, furious with so many unfulfilled needs. He snapped.

"Open your mouth and let me fuck it or I swear--" Hiromi's uncharacteristic threats broke off into a strangled moan, when you took him into your mouth, hot and wet and all at once. Sucking at the tip, curling your tongue to cup the underside of his cockhead, you let the bobs of your head, and swirls of your tongue run smooth and sloppy.

The very air around you felt steeped in wildflowers, and the bizarre pseudo-alcoholic rush heightened every sensation. Even though there was clearly something very wrong with the man you had lusted after for so long, his taste his moans his fingers in your hair his trembling thrusts into your mouth, felt so right.

"--more tongue...deeper deeper yesssss...good girl, fuck-- f-fuck, good girl...wanna come in your mouth-- swallow it-- swallow me--"

You obliged him, and your consciousness remained dragged just a millisecond after your movements as you sunk your mouth lower, swallowing around his cockhead until your nose brushed his downy black happy-trail, and your throat constricted around his tip. Hiromi felt a slam of pleasure behind his navel as his orgasm hit, everything in him tightening with his release.

Hiromi's cries, so frantic and needy, crescendoed through the boardroom, and you felt cool ropes of cum spurt against the back of your tongue. Hiromi watched you swallow around his jerking cock, certain he must be dreaming the eroticism of this. By the time your dewy eyes opened again to look up at him, his cock still hard against your white-spattered tongue, Hiromi had lost all composure. Something white-hot and terrifying rolled off him, and you pulled away, spit and semen connecting you in a thread to his twitching cockhead. Your heart clenched, suddenly feeling a flicker of fear.

"...Hiromi? What's wrong?" You asked, cautious as you rose, scooting backwards onto the boardroom table and sliding yourself away from him. Hiromi stood, slow and deliberate. Something had changed within him. Every action of his seemed clipped, hyper-efficient and intentional. You felt your heady drunkenness increase, a thick pulse of desire shooting through your core, and you tried to ignore it with a whimper.

A flash of lightning illuminated you both-- for the briefest moment, you swore you could see the shadow of great wings behind Hiromi's lean, predatory form. A rumble of thunder rattled the boardroom. Drifts of rain swept the glass wall.

"...knew you'd work it out in the end." Hiromi cooed, his words licking at you, coaxing you back. "Clever girl. I told you I couldn't let you leave, didn't I?" He began to crawl along the table towards you, seemingly weightless, his movement so fluid-- so inhuman.

"You won't-- you won't kill me." You stated, as much to convince him as yourself. Hiromi swallowed, his pupils dilated, still crawling to catch up with you. As you darted back, he leapt forwards, dragging you to him by your ankle and caging you against the table beneath him. Only then, did you see the turmoil in him.

"I'd never. I could never. I wouldn't, ever." Hiromi spat, beseeching. You softened. He saw how you squirmed beneath him, knew how his hormones had ensnared you, making you desperate. Seeing you clutch your thighs together for relief, your nipples pebbled and almost freed beneath your blouse, Hiromi gulped again.

"I'm so-- so hungry." Hiromi growled, canines sharp against his lower lip, "And I need-- need-- I can make this good...for both of us. I can make you, if I need to, but I-- I'd rather not. Trust me. Please." He did not need to beg or force, when you were already undressing beneath him, as if you hadn't been waiting for him to take you since the first time your name had fallen from his lips.

"I trust you. Just...just...please." You begged now, and Hiromi shuddered, his eyes black as another flash of lightning flashed on his exquisite profile. He watched you, breasts heaving, now in just your bra and underwear. A burst of pheromones from him left you whimpering, your neck stretched to the side. He raised one strong, fine-boned hand to circle your throat, protecting it from himself as his mouth moved down your body.

"...so close already, aren't you? My beauty...best thing I've ever tasted." Hiromi whispered, his lips ghosting over one freed nipple, pre-cum dripping where his cock dragged against your thighs, "Need you sweeter...before I drink you." You whimpered beneath his mouth, suckling on your nipple until you cried out, your hands tangling in his inky, grey-streaked locks of hair. His hand kneaded at your other breast, relishing the softly yielding squish beneath his fingers.

Your thighs parted for just long enough to clamp Hiromi's cock between them, slick with his dripping pre-cum and your arousal. Hiromi gasped, canines grazing against your nipple, and your thighs clamped harder, Hiromi jerking with a cursing groan above you. He rutted spontaneously, sliding his cock between the plush of your thighs with a shaky, prolonged moan. Hiromi stayed this way for a few minutes, lapping and kneading at your breasts, fucking himself between your thighs. His pleasure threatened to peak again, and he hissed, slipping his cock free of the hot glove your thighs had made for him.

"Don't...don't." Hiromi growled, nipping your belly in warning as he slid himself down, shooting you a look to burn. "I'm not cumming on this fucking table, when I could cum inside you." Your breath hitched with the promise, feeling so weightless as Hiromi stripped your underwear from you. He took a moment to admire the glistening petals around your core, before sinking his tongue and nose between them with a moan.

Hiromi didn't allow you to last. Already so close to your peak, Hiromi's essence pulsed through you with your taste on his tongue. You were washed through with a skin-prickling, burning orgasm, plundering through you like wildfire. Hiromi had gripped you, and would not let you go, and with his mouth desperately lapping at your clit, your orgasm simply did not end.

You were a wreck, writhing and twisting and begging, all frantic cries of his name, alternately trying to shove Hiromi's head away and pull him closer. With one particularly hard push against him, Hiromi drew away, and bit onto the soft inside of your thigh in warning. You squealed as he drew blood.

You almost heard his heartbeat stop, enthralled by the droplets of blood running down your thigh. His tongue darted out, capturing them before they hit the table, your blood and arousal mixing on his tongue. You suddenly felt the danger you were in, in the jaws of a god as Hiromi's eyes turned up to you, settling on your neck. His eyes stayed fixed, his mouth puckering around the bite wound on your thigh, sucking just once before sealing the wound with a trembling tongue.

"...I'm going to fuck you, now." Hiromi stated, blunt, in warning, as he crawled back up your body. His cockhead grazed over your folds, and Hiromi grasped himself, lining his cock up with your fluttering core. "And you'll stay still...or I...I can't...you'll get hurt."

You couldn't possibly have refused at this stage. Hiromi was possessed by something stronger than himself, and you yearned to heal the fractured core of him. Grasping your wrists in one of his hands, and pressing them above your head, Hiromi coiled one hand in your hair, tilting your neck to the side.

You felt the insistent press of his cock filling you, as his teeth punctured your skin. You jolted, crying out, and Hiromi snarled against you, gripping you tighter. Hiromi felt the hot, salty, copper tang of your blood flooding his tongue, and his hips took on a life of their own. He slammed into you, again, and again, tasting your delicious little squeaks, bound beneath him with no means of escape. The human core of him was disgusted; the monster relished every second.

Allowing his otherworldly bliss to roll over you again, Hiromi felt you go languid and supple, your pussy clenching involuntarily around the bullying pace of his cockhead against your belly. Breathless moans muffled into your neck, interspersed with his gulps. Hiromi burst with adoration for you, and how well you were taking him. He had never felt so alive.

Hiromi felt your pulse fluttering in your wrists, and, convinced it was growing weaker, released your throat with a whine and a gasp, pressing his tongue against you again to seal the wounds. Hesitating only briefly, Hiromi fucked into you harder, faster, crimson dripping down his chin, dopey and lovesick. His hand tangled in your hair, pressing a bloody kiss to your cheek, feeling his orgasm creep up his back. His fingers plaited with your own above your head.

You were his, completely, happy to be used. The fervent thrust of his blunt, leaking cockhead against your sweet spot, his sandy whispers and gasps-- "...the best fucking medicine...I swear to god-- keep me forever, please, shit-- cum inside you, gonna cum inside you-- fffuck--" -- and the waves of Hiromi's strange, floral aphrodisiac, sent you tumbling over the edge again. Hiromi cursed, moaning, to feel you clench, writhing and arching beneath him, your cries rising in pitch as Hiromi fucked into you with total abandon, mesmerised by you.

"--more more moremoremore please-- Hiromi-- don't stop--"

Hiromi gritted his teeth, drawing himself out for as long as he could. Feeling the pummel and stretch of his cock inside you, slick and wet, set your eyes rolling back. When you bit into Hiromi's shoulder, he broke, buckling onto his elbows with a roar. His second orgasm blinded him, his balls emptying in violent contractions, thick white seed filling your belly and cunt in long, agonisingly pleasurable spurts. Hiromi swore, cursing and convulsing, crushing your body beneath his.

By the time Hiromi's vision returned, he was more human than he'd felt in months, as if giving into the monster was the only thing keeping him at bay. You floated back down to earth with him, feathersoft, on your bed of meadowsweet. A faint blush spread across Hiromi's nose at the sight of you, fucked-out, messy and spread beneath him.

"...I understand we have some important things to talk about," Hiromi said, bizarrely formal for a man whose cock was still inside you, "and I understand if you don't want to see me again after this, so we can organise a public date and time--"

Hiromi's voice muffled, still trying to talk as you pulled him to you by his tie, shutting him up with a kiss.

552 notes · View notes

sc0tters · 9 months

Text

It’s Time | Sidney Crosby

summary: Sidney is sent to Canada as he tries to get you back and the long awaited arrival of peanut finally happens.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, legal age gap (reader is 23!)

word count: 3.17k

authors note: peanut is now in our lives and we get the chance to see the semi happy ending for this weird couple! For those of you who aren’t ready to see this story end I’ve made it into a series that you can find under the ‘Crosby x Bedard sister!’ tag, so of course if you want to see some things for that then head to my asks and let your dreams go wild! For those of you who have made it this far in this series, I love you.

part one | previous part

It was like there was a silent competition between you two to see who missed the other more.

34 weeks

What Sidney didn’t think was that when he woke up he’d wake up to a phone call from you. It had been weeks since you last spoke and after trying to desperately call you each day Sidney was beginning to lose faith.

He had been in the gym when your contact info lit up his phone “fuck Bedard, I’ve missed you so freaking-” his words were quickly cut off ”y/n isn’t here you dickhead.” Connor grumbled slamming his bedroom door shut as he had to hide your phone from you.

If you had told Connor that he’d be on the phone to one of his idols growing up like this he would have sworn that you were lying “she refuses to admit that she misses you and as much as she doesn’t need you your kid does.” There was no secret that you were good on your own, it’s the reason why you were single throughout your time working with the Penguins.

Sidney rubbed his face as he listened to what your brother had to say “it’s all good her missing me but she doesn’t want to talk to me.” Sidney pointed out as you hadn’t even opened the text messages that he had sent you.

Connor let out a scoff “she’s stubborn and it’s like worse now that she’s pregnant.” He muttered to himself as he rolled his eyes “point is can you come see her and apologise or not?” He added hearing your voice come from the end of the hallway.

The older boy had to say that he appreciated the way your brother was protective over you “I can be there next week.” Sidney hated that he had training camps the entire week that he couldn’t say no to.

“Con you seen my phone anywhere?”

Your voice rang through the line as you stuck your head into your brothers room.

The younger Canadian player panicked as he hid your phone behind his back “nothing,” Sidney knew he should have listened for longer but truthfully he couldn’t, instead he pulled open his laptop looking to see which flights he could get to come see you.

He was getting his girl, one and for all.

35 weeks

Lounging in the pool of your parents lake house was your personal favourite activity to do especially now that you were heavily pregnant. Laying down on the little pool floatie as you and peanut got the chance to soak up some much needed vitamin D was like your little sanctuary that everyone knew not to bother “y/n someone is here for you!” Connor called out walking back into the house making his way to the porch “tell them I’m busy,” you groaned not wanting any company.

But of course the company had to follow Connor into the house “can we talk Bedard?” Sidney asked clutching to the blanket that you had bought peanut and forgot in Pittsburgh during your effort to leave quickly.

Being full of surprise your body shot up as you looked at him with wide eyes causing you to almost fall off of the float all together “boat,” was all you could get out as you had the keys on the table sat under one of Sidney’s shirts.

There was a collection of those in your closet and it was now all you were living in “hurt her and I’ll hurt you,” Connors warning to Sidney made you laugh as you got out of the water “let’s go before this one gets aggressive.” You teased your brother as you ruffled your fingers through his hair causing him to groan.

The Penguins player felt his heart burst watching the interaction between you and your brother. You seemed at peace with the younger Bedard until you turned to face your coworker “shall we go?” You asked spinning the keys on your finger.

Sidney furrowed his eyebrows as he followed you to the dock “are you sure you should be driving?” His voice was soft when he locked eyes with Betty your boat.

You scoffed looking back at him with a glare “I’m driving a boat, not a fucking mechanical bull.” You grumbled placing your hands on your hips as you continued to walk.

He chewed at his cheek as he realised he had fucked up “look I’m sorry,” Sidney mumbled as he watched you hop onto the boat.

It was a place you had told him so much about during your late nights staying up talking “just get on so we can talk.” You matched his quiet tone as you sighed.

That twenty minute ride to your favourite part of the lake was the longest ride of your life done in total silence “surprised to see you here.” You broke the silence getting up to sit closer to him.

Sidney was surprised when you let your knee hit his “couldn’t sleep knowing you were weren’t happy with me.” He confessed ignoring the way his body felt on fire as your fingers danced over his.

Something that you continued to hate about yourself was the way you were always scared of confrontation “look Sid you can fuck whoever you want really.” You shrugged readjusting the cap on your head “just because I’m having your baby doesn’t mean you owe me anything.” Sure you were hurt admitting that but you managed through most of that pregnancy without him.

He frowned hearing you say that “you’re the girl I want to sleep with,” his words made you laugh “you already did that.” You pointed out pointed to your belly.

The hockey player let a smile form on his face “not like that,” he sighed hooking his hand under your knee as he pulled you closer to him.

You mumbled something under your breath as you placed your hand on his chest “I want you for Monday coffees everyday, I want peanut to grow up in one house and one house only.” It felt like a punch in the gut that he was making this about the baby.

Thankfully nobody else was around as you partially wanted to cry “look if you want me for peanut then I’m happy to simply be friends.” You weren’t happy about that, of course you weren’t but with Sidney making you feel like it was what he wanted you had to accept it.

Sidney wanted you to shut up and listen as he tried to tell you how he felt “I want to do this with you and only you.” His announcement made you smile as your cheeks turned pink.

Part of you couldn’t stand how Sidney made you feel all mushy inside and you fully blamed peanut for this “really?” You giggled as he used his strength to pull you onto his lap.

He laughed as he grabbed your hat and threw it somewhere on the boat “deadly,” the hockey player let his fingers trace along your jaw.

His fingers moved to tuck your hair behind your face “you are really pretty you know that?” Sidney’s voice was deep as you felt his thighs tense beneath you.

In that moment you fully throughly about letting him fuck you senseless -another feeling you were going to blame on peanut- “Sid don’t fuck this up,” you warned letting your nose bump his as you stared at his lips.

You were close to letting out a whimper “promise you I won’t Bedard.” Sidney mumbled moving his fingers to the back of your head as he finally kissed you.

It was slow as he savoured every moment of that kiss like it was going to be the last kiss that he was ever going to get from you.

But of course the universe wasn’t going to let you enjoy the soft feeling of his lips “feel this!” You gasped pulling away to quickly grab his had that you placed on your belly as you pushed your shirt up.

It seemed that peanut wanted to say hello “you feeling neglected now?” Sidney laughed as he looked down to your stomach.

37 weeks

Sidney had been a nervous wreck for the last two weeks “good morning,” you smiled as you walked down stairs giving his lips a peck.

Since that moment in the boat you guys had been in this weird flirting stage where you two happily kissed whenever you were alone “hey Bedard,” he wrapped his hands around your waist as he took in what you were wearing.

You were in this blue bikini that made your boobs look fabulous as they were bigger than ever. It wasn’t helped by the problem where you had your shorts on that couldn’t even be zipper up your belly was that big “peanut behaving?” Sidney asked letting his hands slide down to your belly placing a kiss on it too.

Every morning that’s what Sidney did, a kiss for you and a kiss for her “thinking of going for a ride today,” you announced as you loved driving Sidney’s boat.

It should have made you laugh how Sidney drove the car and you drove the boat (even though he was perfectly capable of driving it, he let you have this one) “I wanted to ask you something first,” Sidney mumbled letting his lips hover over your lips.

You raised your eyebrows waiting for him to reveal what he wanted to say “don’t hold out on me now cap.” You felt your stomach rumble as you hadn’t eaten anything “let’s start with breakfast.” Sidney laughed letting you go as you had your usual thing of berries for breakfast.

A scoff left your lips “you can’t not tell me what you wanted to!” You complained as your lips turned into a pout.

Sidney smiled as his hand cupped the back of your neck pulling you closer to him as he got up “what are you going to do if I don’t?” The hockey player asked licking his lips as he smirked.

Part of you wanted to roll your eyes for playing his game “I wont kiss you anymore,” you announced clicking your tongue as you giggled.

He shook his head “know you like the feeling of my lips way too much.” Sidney swore he was a deadman walking when he saw you push onto your tippy toes to move your lips closer to his.

You frowned when he moved his lips further away from yours “don’t fuck with me when I’m this pregnant with your child Crosby.” You warned deciding that he couldn’t say no if you pulled the I’m carrying your child card.

It warmed the captains heart to be reminded of how you were pregnant with his kid but there was still one thing missing “I wanna date you Bedard.” Sidney confessed causing a grin to break out on your face.

Whilst you wanted to feel silly feeling your heart melt instead you giggled “you getting all soft on me Sid?” You teased seeing his cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

The hockey player let out a playful scoff “you tell anyone you get to see this side of me and I’ll deny it.” He warned bringing his lips down to yours “you think I want to date you?” You asked repeatedly blinking at him.

Safe to say Sidney was lost for words as he didn’t know what to do watching you stand there straight lipped “I’m just fucking with you.” You laughed shaking your head as you pushed yourself onto your tippy toes placing your hand on the back of his neck as you grazed his lips “you’re now my girlfriend, I’m getting more than just that peck.” The hockey player grunted giving your waist a squeeze.

All was going well for you until being pregnant decided to come back and bite you in the ass “wait,” you groaned placing your hand on his chest as you pushed him away from you.

Sidney looked at you with wide eyes “what?” He asked growing concerned “I gotta pee,” you announced drawing a laugh from his lips.

“Who would have thought that my daughter would be my cock block?”

You heard the statement causing you to let out a gasp “you better not be talking badly about my baby Sid,” you warned raising your finger at him letting your hand sit on under your belly.

He leaned against the wall seeing you break out into another giggle “what happened to needing to go to the bathroom?” Sidney asked licking his lips as your face turned into a scowl “forgot about that,” you groaned now heading to the bathroom.

“I got a good one,”

39 weeks

Being with Sidney as his girlfriend it felt like pure pleasure. You guys truthfully used this time to finish up the prep for peanuts arrival “you ready to go?” Sidney asked watching you walk down the stairs as you laughed seeing that the boy had made you one of his signature smoothies, fulled with all of the weird fruits that were apparently good for the baby.

You nodded as you smiled “excited to see your parents,” you mumbled wrapping your hand around the cup as you kissed his lips.

Sidney tried to give you the quietest two weeks leading up to peanuts arrival as he wanted you to have as much relaxation time as you could possibly get. But his mother was one person he couldn’t say no to (you were the other) and now that meant you two were going for breakfast with them “we’re already late,” the hockey player complained looking down at his watch.

It made you roll your eyes “if there is one time that they can be okay with me being late is when I’m this pregnant with their grandchild.” You pointed out sipping at the smoothie as you tucked your hair behind your ear letting the boy take note of how you were in his shirt as well as a pair of his basketball shorts.

He laughed taking the bag from your hand “let’s just make sure that we aren’t any later than we need to be.” Sidney explained walking to the door as you were hot on his tail.

Or at least that was until you felt a sharp pain in your stomach, it was different to the ones that you had been feeling throughout the morning. Of course you refused to tell Sidney because the last thing you needed was him worrying about you as he tried to wrap you in bubble wrap. You knew he didn’t do it intentionally but you had grown tired of watching him stop you from living life, yes you were still mad that he took the keys to the boat away from you.

The sound of the smoothie bottle hitting the floor made Sidney’s blood run cold “you okay Bedard?” He furrowed his eyebrows placing your bag on the ground as you went to help you.

You let out a groan as you clutched your stomach “we’re gonna have to cancel on your parents Sid,” you announced with wide eyes as you shook your head “she’s coming,” you added feeling the cold sensation of water trickling down your thighs as you lifted up the shirt your were wearing to see that there was now a wet patch that soaked your shorts.

Up until he saw the look of panick on your own face Sidney wanted to just about die at the thought of peanut arriving early, sure he was excited to see her. But the idea of actually being a dad to someone was now feeling all too real “let’s go have a baby?” His voice shook as he tried to act like he was ready to do this.

It wasn’t like he had already packed the hospital bags two weeks ago and they had been living in his car, not to mention that he already had the car seat installed too. So when you nodded and squeezed Sidney’s hand trying to avoid the pain that the oncoming contraction was sending you it made him realise that you two were bound to make it through any challenges that peanut sent your way.

39 weeks

Your body was tired as you tried to take a nap. Your mom had warned you about the toll that birthing a child has on someone but you really didn’t think that it was going to be this bad “I know your momma is sleeping right now but when she wakes up I promise that you’re going to love her.” Sidney spoke away to his daughter happily as she cooed at whatever he said to her.

Sidney smiled as he looked up to see you looking at him “hey momma,” the new nickname had you feeling like you were all fuzzy inside.

The hockey player made his way over to you “how you feeling?” He asked placing a kiss on your forehead as he sat next to you.

Nurses had been in and out of your room gushing about how cute the new family was “like I just had a baby,” you mumbled drawing a laugh from Sidney’s lips.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes were drawn to your daughter as she stared at her father “we did good,” you added realising why every parent always said that their babies were adorable because you swore that peanut was the cutest baby you had ever seen.

Sidney looked at you as he smiled “that’s all you baby,” he muttered using his other hand to hook his fingers under your jaw as he pulled you into a kiss.

It was soft letting you shut your eyes melting into it as you forgot that your daughter was in his arms “love you,”you swore his words were sent to the baby so you kept quiet “I see I how it is,” Sidney clicked his tongue causing you to look up at him “talking to me?” You asked looking back up at him.

He threw his head back when he let out a laugh “yeah!” The hockey player exclaimed causing your eyes to light up “I love you too then.” The part of you that wondered if he was saying this because you were now the mother to his child, didn’t care because you were simply so tired.

The hockey player let his fingers dance on your jaw “you know how to make a man feel good,” he mumbled making you laugh “shut up and kiss me.” Peanut watched her parents with big eyes as she smiled like she knew it was the first time that they had said I love you.

Of course that moment was never bound to last when the door bursted open “are you going to let me meet my niece or what?” Connor asked barging into the room causing you to jump away from the older boy.

A grin formed on Sidney’s face watching his family and yours follow in shortly after “wash your hands and then you can meet peanut.” The hockey player announced looking at you for confirmation that you agreed.

“come meet our baby.”

#crosby x Bedard sister!#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagines #Sidney Crosby oneshots #imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #Sidney Crosby x reader #amber writes fics

488 notes · View notes

jasminsstories · 4 months

Text

How finals week with Zayne by your side would be…probably:

gn!reader x zayne / fluff; just for fun, don’t take this seriously pls

will try to support you as much as he can, since he knows best how hard studying is

“I told you to start earlier than to cram the material in the last minute. It won’t stick in your long-term memory this way” “Zayne, I don’t care if it sticks in my long-term memory as long as I pass this exam”

“Come here and eat this before continuing”

Basically drags you daily to the kitchen table where he prepared healthy meals

“But why do only I have carrots in my salad?” “Because you need Vitamin B to stay fit for your exams” “Just say you gave all of your carrots to me, because you don’t like them!”

“If you continue to drink so much coffee, I am afraid I will see you in the ER soon because of arrhythmia… and I don’t want that” “Zayne, you can’t just hide my coffee machine!!”

opens the windows regularly to help you concentrate and makes sure you stay hydrated

definitely will try to lure you out for walks to get some steps in

“Didn’t you say you wanted to see the sunset?” “I do, I really want… but I have to get this done today” “Let’s go, you need some Vitamin D” *suddenly lifts you up bridal style* “Hey, let me down!!” *acts like he doesn’t hear you*

the more time passes and the deeper the night gets with every passing minute, you can’t stop yawning and rubbing your heavy eyelids; still you try to focus them on your bright notebook screen

“Go to sleep. You have to get enough sleep to function tomorrow as well” “I can’t afford to sleep now. Sleep can wait, the deadline for my essay won’t”

tries to get you to bed through various methods

first tries to make it less obvious and wants to make you jealous through your plushies

“Then Mr. Snowman will have to cuddle with me today..” “Mhmmm”

But quickly realizes that it doesn’t work and you don’t react to it

for his second try he sneaks up to you from behind and puts his hands on your waist, pressing a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear, whispering a tempting “Come to bed with me”

you try to stay strong though and ignore his attempt with the last endurance you have

the next time he comes up to your desk for his third attempt, he finds you asleep already, your face planted on the surface of your desk

he can’t hold back a chuckle and a fond glow is in his orbs as he gazes at your face; just looks at you for some minutes

carefully picks you up and carries you to bed, trying his hardest not to wake you up; whispers a “Good night, my angel” and gives your forehead a small kiss

tucks you to bed and will lay down beside you to watch you sleep

when you wake up the next morning you begin to panic because you weren’t able to pull the all-nighter you desperately needed to finish on time

“Breathe, Love. Don’t worry. You can do it, I know it”

“I look kinda like a Panda now with my dark circles, don’t I?” “Yeah…kinda. Maybe more like a raccoon”

when you are finally done with all of your exams and your essays, he will pat your head and smile proudly; “Good job, I knew you can do it”

with a relieved sigh you press a loving kiss on his lips

and now you can finally get revenge for the times he teased you

just the brain rot i have in my finals week. i am quite literally losing my marbles right now, so i needed some zayne fluff. did i write this instead of studying…maybe. i need this man so bad. actually working on a smut atm but since its been so long since i wrote one, it’s hard for me to get into the flow right now.

#zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne fanfic #zayne x you

295 notes · View notes

depravitycentral · 10 months

Text

Yandere! Gyutaro General Profile

Yandere! Gyutaro x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, mentions of non-con, mentions of masturbation, nonconsensual touching, semi graphic descriptions of violence, murder, mentions of catcalling and objectification (not by our lovely disturbed Gyutaro), poor nutrition, descriptions of Gyutaro consuming human flesh, lack of vitamin D in the underground lair, Gyutaro is cripplingly insecure and it shows, threats of violence against you, yelling, deragatory language, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of reader being non-traditionally pretty, fem reader, MDNI

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

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Motherly

The feelings he holds for his darling are, of course, not platonic, but there’s a part of him that craves to be cared for.

Daki cares for him, true, but he needs more – a sort of love that will leave his cold, empty heart racing, a love that will make his pessimistic views of himself and the world just a bit softer, someone to hold and warm his bed and tell him that he’s enough.

It’s sad, really; he’s so painfully insecure, so full of self-hatred and loathing that the moment his darling shows even an ounce of kindness or care for him, he’s done for.

He’s latching onto them, desperate for any ounce of love or attention they can give him, greedily taking and taking and taking, needing to feel cared for and wanted in a way he’s only ever dreamed of.

His darling is addicting, the feelings they give him becoming something he needs in order to simply just function, and a darling who can help foster these feelings and continually care for him would be very, very attractive to him.

He needs a darling who pities him, really, though he doesn’t want this to be obvious – they need to feel for him, to want to help him and stop all these horrible self deprecating comments, to help give him even just the slightest bit of confidence.

And just these efforts alone will have him gulping, his claws sinking into their sides in an effort to keep them by his side, safe and secure and trapped, so that they can never leave him.

Patient

He’s emotionally stunted.

Having been turned to a demon from a difficult, horrible human life, he’s never had any experience with romance or how to properly woo someone. He’s rough around the edges and short tempered, easy to set off in a fit of anger with very little reason.

He’s genuinely quite difficult to be around, and the constant negativity he spews about his life, humanity, and himself can be hard to tolerate.

As a result, he has to have a darling who is patient; they need to be able to handle all of the foul words and complaining he sends at them, just nodding along and comforting him, letting him clutch onto them and curl around their body, nearly suffocating them as he pours his heart out, relishing in the feeling of someone being there for him.

They need to be able to sooth him when his emotions get out of hand, running their fingers through his spindly hair and slowly rubbing his back, whispering his name and telling them that it’s okay, I’m here now, let’s try to get some sleep.

He needs a steady figure in his life, someone he can fall back on, someone to depend on and keep by his side as his rock.

He's too reclusive and standoffish to have had anyone prior to his darling, and the moment that his obsession forms, he’s latching onto them and never, ever letting go, akin to a parasite.

They become his sounding board, and while he does come as close to love as his twisted heart can get, at the end of the day they’re a possession of his, and they must be able to handle him.

Things will ugly very quickly if they can’t; a fate both he and his darling want to avoid.

Submissive

Gyutaro likes the idea of a darling who will revere him. He doesn’t want someone who is feisty or stubborn; he likes the idea of a darling who is submissive and nurturing, kind and patient and utterly willing to do everything he wants.

He has such trouble being vulnerable, and a darling who challenges him in any way will immediately force him to backtrack any sort of progress he makes in this field, his shell closing in on himself and cutting him off from any further emotional contact with his darling.

He’s sensitive, and he needs someone who will simply nod and allow him to hold them, even if his hands are deathly cold and he’s so awkward about physical affection that it hurts.

He needs someone who will smile when he asks them to, the apples of their cheeks plumping up and their pretty teeth on display, the smile – even forced – making his heart ache in a way he simultaneously adores and makes him nauseas.

He needs someone who will let him rant and rave into their ear, his grip on them slowly tightening as he details all of the horrible injustices in the world, complaining about humans and how vile they are.

(He’ll always begrudgingly bury his face against his darling’s back or stomach when he does this, his voice small and weak as he says but not you, you’re different, you’re the only good one of those miserable, filthy beings…)

He just needs someone who will support him, even if that obedience comes from a place of fear and self preservation.

It doesn’t matter, because all that matters to Gyutaro is that they’re with him, warm and alive and pliant in his arms, listening to him and touching him and running their fingers through his hair.

He just needs someone to love, and is that really so much for a creature like him to ask for?

Not traditionally pretty

While this isn’t a requirement, Gyutaro finds that a darling who isn’t the classical beauty everyone idolized when he was a human is preferable.

He certainly doesn’t find his darling ugly - absolutely not, but the idea of having a darling who has an insecurity regarding their looks is very, very attractive to him.

He doesn’t want his darling to be perfect in others’ eyes – no, they can only be perfect in his eyes, because he’s the only one who seems them for who they truly are.

He’s the only one who understands that they’re more than just their beauty, that they’re sweet and smart and gorgeous and intriguing and so, so very warm.

It makes him feel like he and his darling are connected if they don’t fall under the mainstream category of beauty, like they share something secret and primal, like they understand the suffering and horrors he’s experienced.

It convinces him further that he and his darling are bonded, that it’s some sort of twisted fate that they end up together – the monster and his love, the freak and the only one who could ever love him. It’s oddly poetic in his eyes, and so while this isn’t an absolute necessity, it definitely encourages his attraction towards his darling.

They just grow more beautiful to him day by day, their imperfections becoming the things he loves most about them, and while it sounds almost sweet and innocent, it really, really isn’t.

He’s hyper fixating, and while he doesn’t mean to be rude or prey on his darling’s insecurities, he’ll often comment on these perceived imperfections, telling them that they’re different, unique, weird, but in what he hopes is a comforting, awe-filled tone.

(It’s not, and it will take his darling quite some time to figure out that he’s being honest – he really, truly loves these features. It’s not a lie, even if he sounds like he’s belittling you – truly.)

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Stalker

Gyutaro is, tragically, not the most confidant creature on Earth. He’s internalized every bit of negative treatment he’s experienced, fully believing himself to be repulsive, disgusting, a freak.

And this doesn’t exactly instill confidence in his ability to interact with you – he’s convinced he’ll somehow royally fuck up if he approaches you, whether that be by scaring you, accidentally hurting you, or making you hate him.

He’s sure you’ll find him ugly and strange, that you’ll stare at him in horror and try to run away from him, only to leave him with a broken heart and anger simmering through his veins because how dare you reject him?

He’s convinced things will go awry if he tries to interact with you in any normal, healthy manner and so he falls back on a less consensual, less perilous position – that is, there are many, many benefits to stalking you.

He can observe you much better this way, watching you at your most vulnerable, when you think you’re alone, when you’re comfortable and at ease and utterly unaware of the violent monster sitting on your windowsill as you sleep, or the shadow in the corner of your bedroom as you dress to get ready for the day.

(You’ll sometimes hear this ragged sort of gasp, so quiet you’ll think you’ve made it up, but it’s real, his cheeks on fire and his hands shaking because god, even just the sight of your bare shoulder is enough to bring him to his knees.)

He’s watching through Daki as he resides inside of her, taking in the way your lips move when you speak, your tongue darting out to lick at the dry skin, your employer feeling the way her brother’s emotions spike upwards the longer you talk.

He watches the way your fingers skillfully move as you fold and sort the laundry piles of Daki’s clothing, your eyes glimmering in the light of the ornate House room, your lashes looking perfectly curled, the urge to count each individual hair making him urge Daki to slowly creep closer, dangerously close to bridging the too-big gap between your bodies.

He takes in the sound of your voice; sweet, like honey, something that makes him close his eyes and bite his lip, his brows drawing inward, the idea of you saying his name making him have to grasp onto the nearest object to keep his composure.

He’s hanging on to every word you say – your replies to Daki’s commands, your words of appreciation when she treats you like a slave, how relentlessly kind to her you are. It’s odd, and frankly he doesn’t understand it – why would you be so sweet to someone treating you so poorly?

It almost makes him mad, as he lays dormant, wishing he could escape his sister’s body and carry you to another room, to wipe the somewhat sad look in your eyes away, to maybe even hold you like he’s seen humans do, pressing you against his bony chest and feeling your warmth and seeing your pretty eyes look up at him and maybe even kissing you –

He’ll always stop himself with a miserable wail when these thoughts get too out of control, confusion coursing through him because what is he thinking? You’re a lowly human, weak and disgusting and obsessed with trivial, horrible things like beauty and greed – you aren’t worth his time or energy, even if your skin looks smooth to the touch, even if your body looks warm and soft underneath the layers of your clothing, even if he swears that you sometimes even seem to see him through Daki, as if you can sense his presence.

The denial slowly begins ebbing out of his system, however, as time goes on – and instead, he replaces it with an increased sense of desperation for you.

He starts spending more time outside of Daki’s body than inside, wishing to be independent so that he doesn’t have to merely observe and hope that Daki will be in the same room as you.

Now, he can freely follow you; tracing your every move to different rooms in the house, around the district. He can see who you interact with, learn what makes you smile and laugh, what makes you cry, and see how you grow uncomfortable when strange men leer at you and ask to see what you’re hiding beneath your kimono.

(Rarely does Gyutaro kill non-slayer humans with purpose aside from eating or petty revenge for reacting badly to his appearance, but that night those men died in the most excruciating way he could think of, their voices ringing in his head. C’mon pretty girl, a good bitch like you is only good for one thing. Aw look, she’s scared. That just makes me even more excited, little girl. The rest of the night he spent on your windowsill, yellow eyes fixed on your peacefully sleeping form, trying to engrave the sound of the men’s screams into his mind.)

He likes being your shadow; of course, he fantasizes about the day he’ll get to interact with you himself, but for now this is enough. He's terrified you’d reject him if he were to try to speak with you like a human, and if he tried to confess his feelings for you and you were to reject him?

Well, Gyutaro isn’t afraid of many things, but he’d rather insult Muzan than see the disgust and hate in your eyes directed at him.

So, he satiates himself with simply watching you, always keeping a healthy distance between you, one that makes him equal parts relieved and frustrated.

It’s easy to pretend like he's in your life this way; he’ll imagine you saying his name, imagine holding you while you sleep, brushing away stray strands of hair from your face while you smile at him. He runs his fingers over your pillow when you’re not in your room, brings your toothbrush to his lips as he slowly, deliberately licks across the tied bristles, eyes rolling back because is this what you taste like?

It’s easier to pretend like you actually know of his presence this way, like you’re happy that he’s watching out for you, like you want him to stare at you, like you want him to just be there, to be by your side.

He won’t be content forever to simply follow you, but before he steals you away to Daki’s lair, it’s enough. Just barely, but it takes Gyutaro so long to gather the courage to actually interact with you that this is the only way to save himself from potential embarrassment and rejection.

After all, he feels like he’s getting to know the real you this way – too bad you know nothing of the looming, violent presence sticking onto you like fucking glue.

Clingy

Gyutaro has a difficult time expressing his feelings. With his limited romantic experience, he’s very much not adept at human emotional communication. He struggles to properly display how he feels for you, especially towards the beginnings of his obsession.

At first, he’s incredibly resistant to the idea of growing attached to you. You’re just a human, and a weak one at that – you’ve been blessed with a pretty face (gorgeous even, he might say, though the barrage of scratching at his eyes that follows that statement deters it), you’re kind, you’re everything he claims to hate.

And yet, he can’t stop thinking about you – it’s infuriating, and at first he finds himself idly wondering if he should just kill you to get all these confusing, uncomfortable feelings to go away.

He doesn’t like how he’s not in control when he thinks of you, his heart racing and his palms growing sweaty, this weird, foreign sense of urgency fluttering in his stomach because he just needs to see you, to let his eyes settle onto your figure, to hear your voice or watch as you bite your lip in concentration or peacefully sleep.

He wants to kill you, but the more he thinks about it, the less sure of that he becomes – there’s this sour taste in his mouth when he imagines your dead body, and it makes him scratch at his neck to imagine you not being alive and therefore not watchable.

So, begrudgingly, he decides he shouldn’t harm you – not out of cause for your safety, but rather out of selfishness. This is, of course, just what he tells himself – in reality, it’s very much because he can’t stomach the thought of you getting hurt.

He doesn’t want a single scratch to mar your pretty skin or a single hair on your head to be touched – you’re perfect, and you’re his little bit of perfection, one that he’s never had before. He’s never had someone make his heart race like this, nor has he ever had someone be so unintentionally kind to him.

Originally, you’d caught his attention because you’d seen a shadow of him in Daki’s room in the house, and as her servant, you’d quickly closed the door and begged her forgiveness for interrupting, only to offhandedly compliment the colors of his hair as you attended to her.

Gyutaro, having been resting within her, had heard your compliment, and immediately was bristling, his heart fighting between extreme anger that you could be making fun of him, and a smaller, pathetically hopeful piece of him that was wondering if you’d meant it, if he’d really just received the first compliment of his life.

And from then on, he’s lost – his obsession festers quickly and strongly, his dependence on you growing with every minute of every day as he relives your compliment over and over, slowly finding everything you do endearing and interesting and – dare he say it – cute. And so, simply put, any time that Gyutaro is not sealed away inside of Daki, he’s diligently by your side, stuck to you like glue.

Once he develops feelings for you, he becomes much more independent than his previous self – rarely does he reside within Daki anymore, unless he needs to rest. He doesn’t like being trapped and separated from you, because while he still retains a level of consciousness of what’s going on around him when he’s sealed away, residing within her limits his ability to communicate with you.

And god, does he love to do that – once he’s stolen you away, he’s always, always talking to you, his gravelly voice ringing in your ears even when you try to sleep. He’s always asking your opinion on things, questions that seem pointless about your favorite foods, colors, activities, even personal questions about himself.

(What is your favorite thing about me? And don’t lie, I can sense when you lie; your lip trembles slightly, and I’ll sense your heart beating faster. It might be hard to answer, I’m so ugly…)

And of course, when he’s got you trapped in his thin, inhumanely strong arms while you both reside in Daki’s nest as the sun beats on the ground above, he’s reaching deeper, the questions becoming more personal.

Hey, what’s your biggest fear? What makes you the happiest? How does it feel to be so misfortunate as to have me as your lover?

He’s not always looking for answers – though most of the time he is – but rather he just likes the way you look at him while he asks. Your eyes are wide, your rapt attention given to him, and the way you hang onto his every word has him feeling important, understood, even if your answers aren’t what he wants to hear.

He’s never punished you for a wrong answer to these questions, though it’s easy to read his disappointment. Mostly, he absolutely hates it when your compliments fall flat, or if you aren’t as kind and loving as you normally are to him.

If you don’t give as heartfelt of a compliment to his appearance as you did yesterday – instead of praising his collarbone as being defined and curved like a bird’s song sounds, you’re telling him his eyes are pretty – he’ll pout, like some child, though the repercussions and feeling of terror you’ll experience are anything but childish.

He’s frowning, a scowl pulling at his features because he wants more. Tell him how his eyes make you feel – do you get nervous butterflies in your stomach from them? Do you lose yourself in the amber depths, getting lost in the way he gazes at you with such ardent adoration and lust?

Gyutaro is needy, really, and you’ll very quickly learn this. It takes a while for him to allow himself to touch you (he’s nervous at first, though he’d never ever admit it – he’s killed and injured too many, never having known how to be gentle and loving, and the thought of accidentally hurting you has him scratching at his face and chest, agony blooming in his heart), but once he crosses that mental barrier, he’s suddenly never taking his hands off of you.

The touches are small at first – a hand at your cheek while his thumb traces your cheekbone, the sharp nail unbearably close to your eye as you stay as still as you possibly can. He’ll run his fingers over your hair, the texture growing familiar as that strange, dazed look overtakes his features.

He’ll try to have you in his arms as often as he possibly can, whether that’s leaning over your body while you stand before him, or forcing you to sit in his lap as he runs a finger up and down your spine, marveling at how soft and warm and pliant you feel in his grasp.

(You’ll be able to tell he’s in awe, too, because there’s always something hard pressing against your lower back and the breaths he wheezes into your ear are strained and uneven and gaspy.)

He grows a penchant for simply watching you, his eyes fixed on your form as you bite your lip and shiver, the freezing temperatures of Daki’s lair making your skin burst into goosebumps.

He’ll occasionally bring back human items; you’ve woken up to a ratty woolen blanket covering your form before, a thin pillow under your head while Gyutaro’s face peers at you from a mere foot away, his own body lying down beside yours. You’re sure he was watching you sleep – as he often does – but you can’t deny the warmth the blanket offers you, and you’ll even whisper with a soft voice, thank you, Gyutaro.

(You hadn’t been aware previously to him that demons could blush, but the soft pink that envelopes his cheeks is difficult to ignore, as is the way he warbles and rolls over to face away from you, curling in on himself and violently scratching at his chest, the embarrassment and influx of something warm and sweet and good in his heart making it hard to look at you.)

Generally, Gyutaro’s main goal is to always be around you, whether that’s being in the same room, you in his arms, or simply just staring from aware.

He’s needy, absolutely desperate for you to acknowledge him and validate every insecurity still left over from his time as a human, and while he doesn’t believe you most of the time, it’s still euphoric to hear. So please, please tell him you love the way he holds you so delicately and carefully. (Don’t mention the way his protruding bones dig into your skin, causing your discomfort and making it hard to spend the hours laying with him that he wants.)

Tell him that you enjoy the way he says your name, that it sounds sweet and romantic and loving. (The odd lilt that sounds just a bit too much like a moan isn’t important, of course, nor is the way you sometimes see his eyes roll back just slightly, as if the mere thought of you is enough to get his knees weak and blood rushing south. It is, but again, it’s not important.)

Tell him that you wish he’d be with you forever, that you’ll never leave his side. (And when you’re forced to drink Muzan’s blood – and Gyutaro’s, too, because he wants to feel more connected to you - and you become a demon, don’t be surprised when he says with a gleeful smile that now we can truly be together, stuck with me for all eternity, clutching onto you with all the force and strength he’s been yearning to for months.)

He just loves you, or as much as a demon can, so just take it, yeah?

Protective

Once his feelings for you begin to form, the residual urge to protect Ume that resided within his human self comes into play.

Of course, he still protects and prioritizes Daki’s safety, but you’re equally as important to him, just in a different way. With Daki, it’s about survival – he cannot live without her, and she cannot live without him. They’re siblings, bonded by something deep and intangible, something that can never be broken.

But you?

Oh, it’s different with you – you’re something he wants to protect, his own sweet, naïve little human that he gets to keep as his own for all eternity. He wants to keep you pristine and healthy and detached from the vile, horrible human world, because he wants to feel like your protector, to feel like you need him, like you wouldn’t be alive today without him stopping all sorts of threats.

(He’s the only real threat facing you, of course, but it’s not like that – of course not, because he loves you, and why would he ever hurt you? He’s already decided not to eat you, so why do you still seem so uncomfortable around him, always flinching away from him or breathing hard when he comes near you?)

Despite his mantra of balancing the inequalities of misfortune he’s had to endure, he sees you as his sole light. You’re the only thing he’s been given by the heavens, and how could he squander the only good thing he’s ever had?

The prospect of you dying or becoming horribly injured makes his eye twitch and his fingers grasp onto his scythes so tightly that his knuckles turn white, his bloodlust palpable in the air. And so, Gyutaro takes your safety very, very seriously.

He himself only eats human flesh, but he knows (begrudgingly), that you won’t partake in this particular diet, so he scrounges up stolen food from the various shops in the district. He’s not quite sure what all you like, and he’d never gotten the opportunity to try most foods when he was a human, so he relies solely on smell to guide his food picking.

Everything he brings back is either extremely healthy (earthy materials with a residue of dirt on them, likely pulled directly from the ground out of someone’s home garden), or extremely unhealthy (boxes of pickled candies with minimal nutritional value).

He doesn’t remember what humans need in order to survive, so while the constant supply of food is good, the food itself is not.

And yet, there’s something oddly endearing about the way he watches while biting his lip (his sharp teeth drawing blood along with the nails that scratch at his biceps), eyes trained on you as you chew and swallow, watching every movement like a hawk. He’s so focused, the nervous question of do you like it rolling off his tongue before he can help himself, shame eating away at him because he sounds so damn pathetic. He’ll watch you eat, making sure you don’t choke, with his fingers shaking slightly as he holds himself back from reaching out to touch you, to make sure you’re real.

He’s always asking you if you’re feeling good, hoping that you don’t fall ill, because he remembers nothing of human medicine and he can’t exactly take you to a doctor with his condition.

And while his protectiveness in terms of your needs as his captee are admirable for a man-eating monster, the level at which he obsesses over your safety in other ways is less than ideal.

He’s so, so scared of you harming yourself that he does nearly everything for you. He’ll call you weak as he helps you bathe, his hands running over your naked skin with strokes that are much slower than they need to be, but he doesn’t mean what he says.

(You’re not even sure he's aware of what he’s saying – the way his eyes bulge out of his head every time he sees your bare ass tells you as much, as does the way his breathing gradually picks up as he bathes you, uneven breaths turning into labored pants until it reaches a fever pitch and oh – was that a moan of your name?)

He’ll tell you that you’re pathetic for needing his help walking around the lair, though you very much never asked for his assistance; nonetheless, his arms wrap under your armpits regardless, helping ease some of your weight off of your knees, the lack of exercise you receive from staying underground all day long making your muscles tired and weakened.

He’s condescending, really, though it’s painfully obvious he doesn’t mean to be. There’s malice in his eyes when he tells you these things, though you’ve learned he always has malice in his eyes, so is it really aimed towards you?

If he really hated humans and the blessed as much as he claims, would his grip on your delicate skin be as gentle as it is? You don’t think so, and while it hurts to be called weak and incapable every day, his insistence on helping you with the most trivial of tasks tells you that he cares about you more than he’s willing to admit.

And – heaven forbid – if you were to ever be in danger from another man?

Well, Gyutaro’s never enjoyed a kill so much, even against pesky Hashira. Because when he eventually tears out the man’s eyeballs, his teeth bared as he growls and groans at the fresh corpse, obliterating the body in a more graphic and violent way than usual, Gyutaro can’t help but feel smug because he saved you, he made sure this vile excuse for a life never laid a hand upon you.

And if it’s another demon that’s threatening you? Gyutaro’s an Upper Rank for a reason, and while this battle is significantly more terrifying for you to watch, he's torturing the demon as slowly and painfully as he possibly can with two main goals in mind.

Firstly, he’s making a point to the other creature, showing him that only he can lay eyes upon you, and only he can have and hold you.

And the other reason? Well, he can’t deny the way his heart races when you praise him for his power, telling him he’s so strong, I – I feel safe with you, Gyutaro…

He feels needed when he protects you, and so your best course of action is really to just let him baby you. Daki and you both might hate it, but Gyutaro needs to take care of you – he needs to hear you praise him and thank him for his hard work, and with every compliment that slips from your lips he only grows more and more obsessed.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Quite honestly, the likelihood of anyone else giving you the attention or time of day that Gyutaro is afraid of is extremely low.

The only people you’ll really ever see are himself and Daki; your lone companions for the rest of your life. Being kept hostage in Daki’s underground lair makes it very, very difficult for you to receive visitors, and unless you’re able to crawl at a steep upwards incline for miles through tunnels, you have very little hope of ever escaping. Consequently, the chances of you ever interacting with someone that could spark jealousy within Gyutaro while you’re under his thumb is very low.

But that’s the key part – while you’re under his thumb. He doesn’t act on his obsession very quickly, instead preferring to simply stalk you for months on end, watching and observing and letting his feelings fester, growing stronger and stronger until they eventually bubble over and he can’t not be with you at all hours of the day.

But that period of a few months between his feelings for you forming and when he eventually steals you away are wrought with jealousy and frustration on his end. He’s constantly, constantly paranoid that another man will come and sweep you off your feet, that you’ll fall head over heels for some lowly human man, that your heart will be stolen and possessed by some weak, pitiful human that doesn’t even deserve you.

(Not that he feels he deserves you either, but it’s different for Gyutaro – at least he can protect you, at least he can keep you safe. What can this man do? What could he possibly offer you, aside from perhaps a more pleasant face?)

He’s monumentally terrified of you ever finding someone else to love, the prospect of you leaving him behind, your feelings (whatever they may be) for him withering away into nothing while another man holds your attention and love being more painful to him than anything else he could ever imagine.

He doesn’t want to lose the feelings you give him, so he resigns himself to knowing he has to do something to stop all these men from potentially stealing you from him. He doesn’t like how weak this all makes him feel, the paranoia churning in his gut and forcing him to act in ways he'd never expected to, ways that disgust him, ways that embarrass him when Daki asks why the hell he seems to be going so far for some stupid human woman.

He’s never even totally sure himself, only guided by the knowledge that he has to keep you his, that he can never go back to his life before you wandered into it. All he knows is that when he hears your voice (so pretty and sweet, something he could listen to for hours if you’d let him) accompanied by a more masculine, male one, he’s seeing fucking red.

He’s never felt this angry before; Hashira have come and gone, made his sister cry and landed a few good hits on him, but he’s genuinely enraged in that moment, honestly livid at what’s happening right before him.

The idea that you could be talking to another man haunts him from that night forward, the jealousy brewing in his gut difficult to identify but horrible to harbor. Gyutaro gets jealous extremely easy during this time period between the formation of his feelings and eventually kidnapping you; he’s so terrified of another man grabbing your attention, and can he honestly be blamed?

He’s a monster, and his self esteem is so low that he’s sure every other living being on the planet is more attractive than him – so why would you ever choose him?

Gyutaro gets very, very angry when jealous.

He’s naturally quick to kill, but in the context of him being fearful of your attention wavering from him, he’s even more trigger happy. He’ll kill without a second thought, slashing at the heads of any man he thinks has even the merest idea of potentially pursuing you.

So when he’s coming back from a kill one night, with blood already staining his fingers and his stomach full, the last thing he expects to hear is your voice. He’d hated having to leave you alone; normally, he’s following you like a shadow, never more than a few feet behind you, following your every move and staying with you for hours on end.

You’ve never really noticed, as his skills of deception and hiding are high, and being this far away from you for a few hours has taken its toll on him. He’s exhausted, and every muscle in his body is taut and alert – ready to see you, to smell your now familiar scent and gaze at your beauty in whatever working kimono you were wearing this evening.

However, your voice brings him out of that reverie – you’re laughing. And so is the man you’re with. Immediately, Gyutaro’s face twists into an ugly scowl, his claws scratching at his cheeks and chest as he begins muttering under his breath, trying to pinpoint where the sound of your voices is coming from. He growls as he finally decides on the direction, before sprinting off, already arming himself with his sickles.

His shoulders are more hunched than usual when he lands on the balcony of the room you’re currently in, the man in question sitting across from you over a small table. Gyutaro’s eye twitches, his gaze raking over the man in question. He’s tall, he can tell; a brunette with soft hazel eyes, his physique decent underneath the black robes he wears. Immediately Gyutaro finds himself hating him even more – he looks rich, happy, handsome.

For a moment Gyutaro is frozen, simply watching the scene play out with wide, panicked eyes, his pulse racing dangerously, before the man’s reaching hand caressing yours over the table snaps him out of his daze. He growls lowly, charging into the room as quickly as he can and snatching the man into his arms, thrusting him outside and disappearing before you have a chance to register what just happened, everything happening in the blink of an eye.

As he runs through the crowded, loud backstreets of the Entertainment District out to somewhere more private where he can probably dispose of this scum, he hopes that he was fast enough that you didn’t catch a glimpse of him. He’d heard your confused calls of what he assumed to be the man’s name, but that only made him angrier, his steps faster and faster as he neared the woods.

Soon he’s surrounded by trees, their shade darkening his body, only allowing his eyes to illuminate. Gyutaro throws the man to the ground, the dirt of the forest surely staining his robes an ugly brown color. The man hacks as he touched the ground, the force knocking the air out of his lungs, but Gyutaro doesn’t wait.

No, instead he throws the man against a nearby tree with a scythe, the sound of cracking making a wide, gleeful smile cross his features. The man’s back is broken, surely, but it’s not enough.

You think you’re special, don’t you?

He warbles, eyes narrowing while the smile stays spread across his lips. The anger in his veins is so potent that it forces him to take staggering steps, his mind too hyper focused on killing this man to walk properly.

You think you can have any woman you want, don’t you?

The man gasps something, though his body isn’t moving from where the scythe has him pinned against the bark.

Gyutaro spits at him, a glob of saliva landing on the man’s cheek.

I may be the repulsive one, but you’re pretty pathetic too, huh? Letting someone as ugly as me kill and devour you…

Gyutaro cuts himself off with a giggle, his fingers once again coming up to scratch at his face and neck.

Then I’ll make you suffer… you’ll watch as I feast on your flesh.

And with that he charges forward, his fingers wrapping around the man’s forearm and pulling, hard, the resounding sound of tearing flesh making him grin. As he brings the severed arm up to his mouth, blood streaming down his arm, Gyutaro can only shake, the thought of eating the man that dared touch you and steal your attention making a strange sort of euphoria dance through his veins. Not a piece of the man is left by the time Gyutaro is done an hour later, his stomach sated as he scowls down at the bloodstains left by the stranger.

(He’d paid special attention to truly savor and enjoy the hand that had touched you – licking at the skin, a moan tumbling from his lips because this is the closest he’s ever gotten to touching you himself, and even if it was the disgusting man’s arm, the experience was still intimate, sweet, enough to force him to have to lean against the nearest tree so as not to fall to his knees when they buckle.)

He spits once more at the ground, cursing the human, before sprinting off to the room you’d been in, hoping with everything he has that you’d still be there.

Maybe he could watch you for a while; you always looked prettiest when you were unaware, and maybe you’d even fall asleep so he could come closer, so he could smell you, touch you ever so lightly, listen to the way your heartbeat beats again, and again, and again…

The rage subsides slowly as he places himself outside the window of your home in the House, his harsh breathing slowly returning to normal, until a light pink flush coats his cheek and he coos your name, wishing you’d turn around and smile at him, that you’d cup his face and tell him I love you Gyutaro, no one but you.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because Gyutaro’s feelings for you take a while to accumulate (mostly through watching you while he’s dormant inside of Daki, or stalking you from the shadows as he grows more and more fascinated with you), he’ll slowly come to the conclusion that you can’t be left alone.

He discovers he fucking hates not having you next to him; you’re the one thing he looks forward to every day.

Seeing your smile ignites this odd sense of happiness inside his chest, a feeling he’s not sure he’s ever experienced before.

His fingers shake when he’s around you; nerves eating him alive, because as desperately as he wants you to give him attention, he’s also terrified you’ll find yourself repulsed by him, that he’ll do something that causes you to hate him or be afraid of him.

He needs your focus on him, but he’s just so, so scared that you’ll reject him – which, in combination with his jealousy, leads Gyutaro to an odd dilemma.

On the one hand, he always, always wants your presence near him – you’re like his drug, the one he’s hopelessly and happily addicted to, and to be without you would mean death to both the small grains of humanity still within him, and any sense of self he possesses.

And on the other hand, he’s terrified that you’ll find someone better than him, that you’ll replace him and leave him in the dust behind you, heartbroken and enraged that you’re gone.

And so, he does the only thing he can think to do – if he’s afraid of losing you and your gorgeous, bright smile aimed at him, then taking you before you can leave is the only solution.

He’s not particularly regretful about stealing you away from your life; you didn’t love the world you were in, he knows that. He knows that despite now being stuck with a grotesque monster, you’re in a better place now.

Because despite his flaws (both internally and externally), the one thing that Gyutaro can do better than any other man on Earth is protect you. He’s strong, capable, destructive, and thoroughly able to take care of you.

Thus, don’t you belong fully under his protection, where the world can get at you (and you can’t get at it)?

Gyutaro believes so, and stealing you away not only keeps other men away from you, but now you’re fully his. Daki’s lair is empty most of the time anyways, and maybe in the dimness you won’t see Gyutaro very clearly.

Maybe then the compliments that come from your lips will feel more real – and maybe then, Gyutaro can will himself to believe that you mean it when you say you don’t think he’s ugly, simply special.

Of course, Gyutaro is a demon. He’s by no means an ideal captor – he’s only marginally aware of what humans need in order to survive, and despite his intense devotion to you, he’s not fully changing his personality just because of your presence.

He becomes much softer around you; less harsh around the edges, more like a nervous teenage boy because fuck does he want to impress you.

He doesn’t want you to be disappointed in him, so he tries his absolute best to keep you comfortable and happy, though he isn’t always successful. He doesn’t fully understand that insects and scraps of food from various shops in the district aren’t your preferred meal, but don’t mention it to him. He doesn’t realize that the one kimono he’d stolen you away in has grown to be caked in mud and dirt since you’ve been ‘living’ in this lair of his, but you won’t say anything out of fear that the alternative is wearing nothing.

Don’t ever say anything even somewhat negative to him about his actions; he’s extremely sensitive, and one small critique of him in any way has him caving in on himself, scratching at every inch of his skin as warbles away about how you don’t love him, you’re lying to him, how he knew there was no way you could love such a disgusting monster.

He’ll close himself off, the anger and hurt making his head spin, and after a long few minutes of him wallowing in his self pity, he’s suddenly up, staring at you with wide yellow eyes and a tear or two, his hands shaking as he lunges at you.

However, while he’s somewhat stand-offish at the start of your captivity, he slowly warms up to you.

Mostly, he’s just terrified that you’ll confirm all of the insecurities he possesses; he’d die if you were to call him ugly, his heart cracking into a million little pieces while tears well in his eyes and his lips spread into an ugly sneer, bitterly telling you he knew it, I knew a spoiled whore like you could never love a monster like me.

Of course, you know well enough not to do that (you’ve seen Daki and him smeared with blood too many times to fear how they’d deal with your resistance), but the fear is very present in his heart.

He’s always nervous you’ll turn back on your compliments, that your sweet words and touches are born out of trying to trick him into being falsely secure, then tearing the rug out from under him, leaving him a shell of what’s left of himself.

However, as you don’t morph into the monster he secretly half-hopes you’ll become, Gyutaro slowly grows more trusting of you, more believing of your kind words.

He starts touching you softly – his fingers brushing over your skin, over the fabric of your kimonos. He’ll throw an occasional smile at you under the guise of being teasing, though despite the stinging, rude comment he likely uttered, the quirk of his lips looks strangely genuine.

Eventually, he’ll allow himself to hug you, your softer body against his making his knees feel weak, his heart leaping up to his throat.

And as his physicality grows more lenient with you, as do his words – instead of only teasing, crude remarks made towards you, he slowly begins complimenting you as well. He’s used to hiding behind his mean words as a defense mechanism, but when you’re looking up at him with your watery, scared eyes, how can he call you a pathetic excuse for a human?

You’re beautiful; every imperfection and blemish on your body is gorgeous to him, and how could he ever make you feel terrible about yourself?

And so, instead of telling you that you’re really pretty sad, you know? Laying on the ground scared like a worm, a poor excuse he’ll instead say you have some dirt on your cheek, you’re so messy.

It’s not that much better, but as time passes his words slowly grow less harsh and more appreciative, until he’s pulling you close one night and whispering into your ear that he thinks he loves you, that he needs you, don’t ever leave me alone, I can’t live without you.

Aside from the way he acts around you, your living conditions will be painfully unchanging. You’ve been relocated to Daki’s lair, deep underground. A few lamps were brought in by Gyutaro so that you could see, the warm light making you feel slightly better as the chill of underground seeps into your bones.

He’s collected a number of human items for you in an attempt to get you feeling more at home; a collection of blankets sits at the end of your futon, a makeshift pillow sitting on the other end. A few novels have been delivered to you, and while you’re not a particular fan of any of the genres present, you’ve read them cover to cover more times than you can count during your time with Gyutaro.

He brings you human foods (though they’re marginally considered food), and he’s placed an instrument he stole from the House down there as well, as entertainment for when he can’t be with you.

(When he’d brought the instrument, he’d set it down in front of you and scampered back, his shoulders hunched in slightly, nervously glancing at you as you appraised his gift, his heart racing wildly because do you like it? Are you happy he thought of you and stole this for you? Are you appreciative? Will you give him a kiss as a thank you?)

Daki is hardly ever around, and while her belt can be annoying when it speaks, a quick conversation with Gyutaro about not bothering you had Daki reluctantly relenting to keeping her belt mute, only furthering her irritation with you.

Gyutaro is always in the lair with you unless he’s directly needed by Daki, or to feed. As such, you’d better be prepared to constantly be stared at, watched, poked and prodded, your sleeping body waking up to a different position than the one you fell asleep in, nail marks still imprinted on your skin.

Gyutaro just really, really likes having you in close contact, and while he knows you likely aren’t extremely pleased by your forced relocation, isn’t this better?

Because now you’re safe – with him, where he can keep every man and demon away from you, keeping you selfishly all for him.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a captor, Gyutaro is a delicate balance of gentleness and abrasiveness.

Of course, he’s a demon. He’s naturally violent, crunching human flesh between his teeth often, and the strength in just his pinky is more than every muscle in your body combined.

And as a demon, his temper is rocky, at best. He’s extremely temperamental, and it takes little to nothing to set off his anger.

When it comes to you, he’s marginally more in control, but for the most part you need to exercise extreme caution once you’re in his captivity.

Gyutaro isn’t the best communicator, which often times lands you in the unfortunate position of having to guess what makes him mad; you’ve built a list as time goes on, mentally noting any time he seems to get agitated, when he starts scratching more at his neck or his voice gets tight and curt. The list is vivid in your mind, something you diligently avoid bringing up in conversation or doing, if only because you’re still terrified that one day it’ll be your blood staining his teeth or splattered across the metal of those scythes he carries.

And the list is long – he’s easy to set off, whether it’s from mentioning the name of another man, or even just slightly flinching when his hands begin travelling all over your body, his breath ragged and deep.

But you’ve found, through experience, that there are three things he tolerates the worst, one of which being any mention of your past life before meeting him and Daki.

It’s not that he’s not interested in knowing about your hobbies and the people you knew (and, frankly, all that stalking makes you having any habits he’s not aware of extremely unlikely), but rather that he gest so, so jealous when you talk about former friends or important people in your life.

It pisses him off to hear you talk so familiarly about anyone that isn’t him, and each jealous thought is immediately followed up by worries about what they do better than him, if they’re more attractive (he’s sure they are), and just how much better than him they must be.

He’ll also get upset if you mention anything about wanting to escape or leave the lair. He takes it as a sign that you’re not happy here, with him, that you don’t think he’s doing a good enough job of taking care of you.

And lastly, while he knows you’re stuck with a demon like him and are understandably terrified, he doesn’t tolerate your nervous twitches and flinches when he comes near you, or your hurtful words insulting him in any way.

He views it as you rejecting him and his presence, and that’s a sure fire way to find letting a deep scowl settle across his features, his fingers tugging at his hair while he runs off to find some human to kill and feast upon to release his anger.

It’s easy to set him off, yes, but while Gyutaro is by no means gentle, he won’t often actually physically harm you.

He might, potentially, begrudgingly, to prove a point, but the worst he’ll do is break an arm or a finger, something to scare you but not actually threaten your life. And even then, this will take a huge amount of anger on his part to actually follow through on. He’s still hesitant to hurt you in any way, too afraid he’ll accidentally lose control of his strength and kill you, and so frankly these situations are often just as painful for him as it is you.

He avoids these physical punishments, though, unless he absolutely has no other choice – but as a general rule, a twisted arm or swollen joint isn’t the repercussions that await you when you anger him.

No, instead Gyutaro does something much worse – his punishments aren’t planned, purely emotional outbursts that end up warping your view of him, damaging your perception of reality until you’re so unsure of how you real feel or what he really is that you’ll blindly cling to him, the Stockholm Syndrome festering and growing until you become just as dependent on him as he is you.

Generally, any negative comments towards him set him off, but any comments specifically referencing his appearance will bring out a very specific type of rage, and this particular brand of anger is very, very scary.

What makes it so dangerous is that Gyutaro is not only pissed, angry, livid, he’s also incredibly hurt. He hates allowing himself to believe your kind compliments and words, but every once in a while he’ll let them settle in, letting hope bloom in his chest that maybe you mean it.

(He’ll delude himself into believing that you really like his eyes, or that you think his facial birthmarks are endearing, that you aren’t just saying that so he won’t kill you. And it makes him feel good, a sense of belonging and bashfulness making him struggle to meet your gaze and instead tug at your kimono and ask you to say it again and again and again, committing the sound of such sweet words coming from your lips to his memory.)

And the main reason for his anger when you lash out and call him hideous is because he should have known.

It’s a slap in the face – how could he have allowed himself to be so foolish and naïve? How could he have allowed himself to get comfortable, to forget his cursed appearance, to forget that he’s a monster in every sense of the word?

He’s frustrated at himself for not seeing this coming; there’s no way you’d ever like someone like him, and it was stupid of him to even entertain the notion that you don’t see him as a grotesque, terrifying predator.

And so, as the words slip past your lips, he’s immediately freezing, his shoulders going slack and his jaw hanging open slightly. Don’t touch me, you monster!

The lair is eerily silent for a few moments, your words processing in his mind as he stares at you, the only sound filling your ears being your own heavy, nervous breaths.

But soon a small, nearly breathless giggle echoes in your ears, the sound making you suck in a sharp breath. The chuckle soon turns into quiet laughter, rising in pitch and volume until Gyutaro is cackling, his voice cracking and hiccupping as his eyes go wide, his hands scratching welts so deeply into his sides that it almost concerns you.

His whole body is shaking, shoulders violently jumping up and down at the force of his maniacal laughter, but eventually it subsides, his hair hanging forward to cover his face.

Do you think that I’m a monster? You think I’m a freak, huh?

His voice is more unsteady than normal, you note with a sense of fear. He tilts his head up slightly, peeking at you from underneath his bangs, his lips pulled into some mixture of a grimace and a grin, the sight making a shiver crawl down your spine. It’s only now that you notice his eyes are red rimmed, his cheeks wet, as if he’d been laughing so hard he was crying – or, perhaps, he really was crying.

Huh? Answer me, dammit!

He’s screaming now, the grimace getting tighter. He takes a step forward, and you shuffle backwards, scooting the backside of your kimono across the dirt as you shuffle back against the wall, trying to get as much space between the two of you as possible.

Answer me, you bitch!

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper out a n-no, but that only makes him angrier, taking another step forward, the sound of his foot crunching against the dirt making you sob.

You’re a liar! A filthy, disgusting liar!

His words hurt, though you can’t explain why. They make you flinch, your hands balling into fists as you bring your knees up to your chest, trying to become as small as possible as he takes another few steps towards you.

You’re nothing without me! He’s screeching now, his voice unbareably high, raw emotion shining through as the words start tumbling from his lips. You’d be dead without me! Imagine that? Something as beautiful as you needing a monster like me to keep you from getting devoured by some demon or some human. You’re pathetic, are you ashamed of yourself?

You’re crying now, fat, ugly tears streaming down your cheeks, but he’s too blinded by his rage to notice.

Does it make you feel good to think you’re better than me? Does it make you feel important? You’re a liar! How dare you do this? How dare you lie to me and tell me that you love me, when you just think I’m ugly and horrible!

His voice is close now, too close, and as you peel open your watery eyes, you see his own yellow ones mere inches from your face. His teeth are bared, every muscle in his neck and chest flexing as he struggles to stop himself from reaching out and clawing at your face, destroying your face until he can no longer recognize you.

You’re speaking before you can help yourself, fear and panic and a cold, gripping sense of regret climbing into your throat.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I don’t think you’re a monster, I’m just – I’m just scared Gyutaro! I’m scared of how you make me feel! I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me, please…

You cut yourself off with a sob, fingers digging into your palms, and as you close your eyes and wait for something to happen, all you’ll be met with is the sound of a gulp, his breath still huffing against your skin. It’s silent for a few moments, before you brave a peek to look at him.

His eyes are wide, the yellow bright and still tinged with red as he stares at you. His chest is heaving, breaths falling heavily, and he’s biting his lip. Blood wells up against the wound, but he doesn’t seem to notice. No, he’s staring too intensely at you to notice anything.

Scared of how I make you feel? He questions, moving a few centimeters closer to you.

You nod shakily, swallowing down as much fear as you can manage as you whisper out that he makes you feel wanted, in a way I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know how to deal with that. I want to hate you, but I can’t.

He makes a sound then, like a wounded puppy, deep in his throat as his brows quirk up. Something in his stomach twists, a pleasant feeling settling at the base of his ribs.

You can’t hate me? You can’t despise me?

You nod, biting your lip, and Gyutaro stares at you for a few moments, before his arms are suddenly wrapping around your waist, his body closing the distance as he pins you against the wall, his face buried into your neck and his waist worming its way between your thighs.

You love me, you love me.

He’s chanting against your chin, a bit of his saliva getting onto your neck. His grip on you is tight, soffucating even, making it difficult to breath. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, and with a small, unsure swallow, you try your best to rub at any skin of his that’s available, soft petting motions that make another little whimper muffle against you.

You love me you love me you love me you love me –

It’s a mantra, like he’s trying to convince himself, but as he spends a good forty minutes repeating this to himself, keeping you trapped in his arms against the dirt wall, you’ll find yourself wondering if he’s really even lying – do you love him?

You hadn’t been lying when you said you aren’t able to hate him. He’s a monster and has killed countless people, kidnapped you, keeping you locked up and always touching you and forcing you to look at him, but do you love him?

Maybe you do, because as you find yourself relaxing into his arms, finding comfort in the feeling of his hot warm breath against your skin, you almost feel at ease. Maybe it’s survival instincts, maybe it’s something else – it doesn’t matter though, does it?

Because you’re stuck with him, and he’ll never, ever let you go.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

Gyutaro is less dangerous to you and more dangerous to those around you.

He’s by all accounts shy in the beginning of his obsession with you – stalking you relentlessly from the shadows, watching and waiting and never leaving your side for even a moment, content to simply see you as you smile and sleep and live your life.

He won’t ever hurt you – at least, not often – and in fact protects you to a fanatical degree, but the same can’t be said for the other people in your life.

He’s very, very willing to eliminate anyone he deems as competition for your attention and love, enjoying devouring them and ending their miserable lives in the most painful, drawn-out way possible. He views himself as your protector, watching from the shadows and acting as your twisted guardian angel, until suddenly it’s not enough – he needs more.

He needs to have you looking at him, acknowledging him, your pretty voice saying his name and your soft hands on his calloused, rough skin.

He needs to have you fall asleep in his arms, your breathing even and steady and so very precarious, your unaware and vulnerable state making him lick his lips and slowly, carefully, timidly press a clumsy kiss against your lips, immediately pulling back with pink tinged cheeks because oh, he wasn’t expecting your lips to be so soft and warm.

If you can look past the kidnapping, murder and invasions of your privacy, Gyutaro is honestly not the worst – he’s temperamental and difficult to handle with all of his triggers, but if you can find yourself balancing and managing to placate him, life with him won’t be too terrible.

He'll care for you as best as he knows how, keep you company whenever he can, drown you in physical affection once he musters up the courage, and over time his harsh comments will eventually morph into honest, genuine compliments about things so specific that you’ll feel seen, understood, perhaps even loved.

Because while Gyutaro may be rough around the edges and difficult to understand, he really does love you in some twisted, fucked up way – and if you’re to be stuck with him for the rest of your life, isn’t it better that you accept it?

Wouldn’t it just be easier for both of you to let him hold you, to whisper to him that you’re happy with him?

Just accept your fate – you’ll be much, much happier that way.

#yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #_gyutaro #_kny #_lee's profiles #yandere gyutaro

405 notes · View notes

yandereunsolved · 2 months

Text

Dissect Me, Doctor - ,, yandere JPM with a psychologist reader

cw(s): yandere themes, dismemberment, suggestive themes, (James) necrophilia, noncon touching, cannibalism, mention of reader having breakdowns & panic attacks

✧ James found you by God's hand one fateful day. You could say it was more than a mere coincidence, eh? He had just finished killing one of the hotel guests. He was about to call Miss Evers in to clean up the mess when he spotted something sticking out of the dead gentleman's breast pocket. He plucked the card out of your pocket and read it allowed, 'Doctor...' His curiosity was the least bit piqued. Psychologists weren't exactly popular in the 1930s. The true study of the mind hadn't emerged, but James had always lived to study humans. To study their fight or flight instinct, how their bodies react to various torture methods, and how fear affects the human psyche. Perhaps he has found someone who shares his fondness for such things. It would be a great way to meet someone new. Considering Elizabeth refuses to speak with him, he has grown desperate. Not even defiling his killings tapered his already suppressed desires.

✧ He got Sally to teach him how to use this magic witch named 'Wi-fi' who owns the internet—or something like that. Most new technology is just rubbish used to get people to make inauthentic connections. Although perhaps just this once, it can be used for the betterment of his temperament. He has Sally schedule an initial appointment at the hotel. Sally uses the excuse that James is bedridden and terribly ill (non-contagious), but he hates telehealth and just wants someone to talk to in person. You were skeptical because of the rumors surrounding The Cortez, but you were in desperate need of another client, and he was willing to pay extra—a lot extra.

✧ You had your first session in his room, and you immediately got strange vibes from him. He wasn't ill, that was for sure. Perhaps he was a little pale, but he probably hasn't gotten enough sun or vitamin D lately. He was even smoking! He was sitting all relaxed on a couch, dressed up in 1930s-esque attire, with a cane leaning against his lap. He introduced himself as James Patrick March, and you immediately understood why you were called. He either has a personality disorder or is a compulsive liar. Perhaps both. You asked him simple questions, such as his real name and when he was born. You were only getting nonsensical answers. He could not have been born in the late 1800's or early 1900's; that is ridiculous!

James only felt himself grow hotter with each question you asked. It was like a fire had been lit beneath his skin, and he needed to put it out. Then you asked the question that really got him going.

"Since you refuse to use your real name, I'll just call you Mr. March. How is your personal life going? Are you currently sexually active?"

"I have peculiar interests and refined tastes. How do you modern people phrase it? 'Where there is a hole there is a goal'?"

✧ With that astounded expression on your face, he feels his urges compell him to end this lovely conversation early. That look would look perfect on your dead corpse. He takes the sabre out of his cane and tries to slit your throat; he narrowly misses. Somehow, you unlock his room door and bolt through the hallways. How promising. He walks through the winding hallways slowly. You scramble to find the exit, and he struggles with not just outright chasing you through the maze. No, he must preserve the hunt. After what feels like an eternity to you—only eleven minutes in real time—you finally trip over a stair and hit your head on the railing. Talented fox. You nearly escaped to the lobby. You are too much of a challenge to let go so easily. He's going to keep you to get his release. In more ways than one.

✧ You wake up in the middle of the night in the same room as before. It's freezing, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. Your head is pounding, and you are barely able to breathe. James drugged you with some cocktail of drugs—some legal, most not. You feel blades ghosting your body. You feel them just barely slicing into your skin. It must be sleep paralysis, you rationalize. Something whispers sweet nothings into your ears. You are barely able to discern what those words are.

"You taste... a dream."

"Never leave."

"The best prey— never leave me."

✧ You drift off once again before groggily waking up in a different room. You are still in the Cortez, now in room seventy-four. You feel much different today, weighed down and yet free. You don't have any marks on you that would indicate you were harmed last night. You feel the need to escape, but you are also incredibly confused. A maid is in your room, setting down a new set of clothes. She explains that you passed out after you tripped on a stair while leaving the session early. You accuse her of helping the strange man you interviewed who tried to kill you. She chuckles and says that you aren't his type. Her voice has a little bit of spite in it. That was the moment that you were introduced to Miss Evers. Quite possibly the only person who simultaneously envies you for getting all of James attention and pities you for your lack of self-awareness and intelligence in the situation.

✧ Before you are even able to shoo her off this JPM impersonator comes in your room and greets you. You are naturally apprehensive. He is naturally enthralled to see that his trophy prey has awoken. He cannot wait to just see how you react today. You try to leave and he explains that you never finished your session. You accuse him now of trying to murder you. He brushes it off and insists that you at least have breakfast with him before you leave. You are about to answer firmly when Miss Evers folding of a towel loudly snaps together. This 'James' scolds her and she gives him a doe-eyed look. Before you are even able to say no he is ushering you down the hallway in silken pajamas someone put on you while you were passed. The thought makes you shudder.

✧ You both were served a hearty and delicious breakfast. It isn't very filling to you, no matter how much you eat. It must be how queasy you are from yesterday. If it happened. Perhaps you had a mental break due to all the stress you have been through lately. You don't get a lot of time to think because you are snapped from your thoughts. This James speaks about your future together and how you will have a long and fufilling relationship. He asks you to give him a psyche evaluation. When you say no, he subtly threatens you with the thought of not paying because you didn't actually fill his full session. You reluctantly agree.

✧ He's both incredibly frustrated and intrigued by your persistence. How many times must he explain to you that he isn't a 'cosplayer' or someone with a personality disorder. He is simply the great James Patrick March. No matter. It will make you even more fun to play with.

"Your delusions, doctor, are clouding your mind. So I suppose I will have to make you see the truth—one way or another."

He sets up small 'challenges' to see if you can pass them. He wants to test how long your mental fortitude will hold up.

✧ The first of those was dismembering himself in front of your very eyes. He does it multiple times, and they are all random. He will pluck his eye out and stir it in his tea. He will cut open his chest and stuff his organs into your suitcase. He will remove whatever is covering his neck and finger from his suicide wound. He asks if you would like to feel it, stroke it, touch it, or play with it.

"Doctor, I understand you only deal with the human mind, but would you like to feel this and assess if it is real? Do you believe me now?"

He will stab himself in the heart during one of your sessions and tell you that this is what you do to him. In the most extreme cases, if he isn't getting your coveted attention, he will take himself apart limb by limb and place them on your bed like a cross.

✧ You begin to come to terms with the fact that, at least, this man is psychotic. Perhaps not a ghost, but definitely a killer and wickedly sadistic. You try so many of the phones in the hotel, but so many seem not to work. You try to find your way out once again, but you seem to be trapped within these walls. Which comes to one of his many other tactics: trapping you in The Cortez's hallway maze. He is able to distort the minds of his guests and make sure that they never get out. Like a rat trying to find an escape from a box maze that has no exit. He enjoys just slowly walking behind you and taking in your panic and your quick breaths when your clothing rides up on you. He is able to take a respectful peek at what he will inevitably see time and time again.

✧ He keeps you trapped in the hotel. You never even have a chance to get to the lobby. He has a nice breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. He has his daily sessions with you. Outside of that? His torture. All of his torture. All of it. He threatens you with it subtly if you do something that he is displeased with. He'll even lock you in that death closet of his and make you stand right near the spike. Sometimes you prefer to be in there because you can hide from him. He likes it when you hide in his death traps. So he totally leaves you alone and totally just doesn't sit right outside your ability to view him.

You are coming to the point where those times when he is cordial are the times you crave. All part of his plan, of course. Although—he hopes that you will keep up the chase, he likes that fiery spirit of yours.

✧ You often find him getting release from his dead victims. You know because your relentless cycle of agony and pleasure stops. At least he doesn't force himself on you when you are awake. You end up doing your best to stay as far away as possible from him during that time. Only you always end up stumbling into the same room as him. You avert your eyes, yet he always has something cheeky to say to you.

"Ngh—darling, darling, wait! This.... this could be us. This could be me. You and me. Nothing could be a replacement for how your flesh feels against mine."

He always turns around and gives you one of those godforsaken winks of his.

✧ That isn't the only time his victims come into play. You are always suspicious of the food he serves you. It's either drugged or the meat could be made from his victims. You first learned that the hard way. You were served meatloaf, and James called in manloaf. He stated that it was made in this very hotel by the very guest who was trying to help you leave. You wanted them so bad, you can have them—in your stomach.

✧ Not even the Countess is able to help. Not that she tries. She is too busy luring more men in. She's forgotten about James mostly, except for the betrayal. She gives you a few warnings and some caution when she can. You are almost like one of her children. Perhaps she would help you if you really were in need. Maybe.

✧ You still get those sensations in your sleep. The feeling of fingertips ghosting on your figure. How the sheets seem to slip off your body. A warm presence keeps you close throughout the night. It often manifests in such strange dreams. It feels like James's thoughts are being injected into your own mind. You dream of him against you—sometimes he is brutally murdering you, and in others he is sensually caressing you. He always seems to tease and taunt you with those tantalizing images in your mind.

✧ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ — You often have panic attacks and breakdowns because of him. Your heart rate quickens as sweat rolls down your body. Your legs shake and give in. The entire hotel seems to spin around you. You have to seek him out for your own comfort. It's so twisted and vile. You can feel bile rising in the back of your throat when it happens. You almost have to crawl on your hands and knees to reach him. Yet, it feels like heaven. His skin is so soft and supple. His suit is always made of the most comfortable materials. His body is always so cool to the touch. In those moments, your body melts into his. That is, until your mind stops its dissociation long enough to realize the trauma you were going through. You are falling for him—a classic case of Stockholm syndrome. You couldn't stand for this. You need to fight against this, against him.

✧ Unfortunately, your non-belief in ghosts stops when you see multiple people you thought were dead trying to warn you. You see your patient, who was killed in this very hotel. They tell you that they're so happy to see you. They are so happy you are here with them. You have to put on your therapist hat again and calm them down. It all clicks. Other people you thought were guests here were warning you. You are being oddly welcomed into the space. The others are cautious of your presence and afraid to upset the owner, the one who holds so much power over them. That strange being that seemed to flicker in and out of your peripheral occasionally. You finally make peace with the fact that James Patrick March is indeed a ghost. You really do need to escape here.

✧ You steal the hotel's shipping schedule for their toiletries and linens. You make a plan to escape. You think you are so clever, and it really makes James hot under his white buttoned collar. He lets you think that you are so much more astute than him. It makes him a little desperate, but he won't show it. He needs your touch so badly. He needs you to love him so badly. He needs you to be his little trophy victim. He needs you to help him chase his highs. He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. You, only you.

✧ He confesses his undying adoration for you and clings to your waist as you try to walk out. He sighs and tries one more tactic before you step out the door. He promises to tell you the entire truth. You are caught off guard by this, and your hand slips off the door. He leads you to his trophy room and shows you his 10 Commandment killings. He directs you to the corner, where your body lies. You are covered in wounds that have long since dried out. Your eyes are lifeless. You have his name etched across your naked chest. You scream, shout, and sob. James gently holds you and soothes you even as you thrash, kick, and gnaw at him.

"You've been trapped here the entire time. Since that night."

As if that makes it any better. You aren't that stupid. You could connect the dots—lack of appetite, coldness, the odd sensations, everything. You are stuck with this monster for all eternity.

"Hmm, yes! I saw you and just knew that I had to have you. Have you gotten my diagnosis yet, my love? It's lovesickness, and your body is the cure."

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @marchsfreakshow @girlyfart @nahoyasboyfriend

.ೃ࿐ -ˋ�� ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

#american horror story #yandere #ahs #ahs hotel #yandere american horror story #yandere american horror story x reader #james patrick march #jpm #yandere jpm x reader #yandere james patrick march #yandere james patrick march x reader #yandere headcanons #ahs yandere headcanons #ahs headcanons #ahs fanfiction #jpm x reader #james patrick march x reader #headcanon

104 notes · View notes

katyaromanoffpetrova · 3 months

Text

A lifetime of dates (part 1)

After being together for twenty years, Natasha and Katya have been on many dates in their lifetime. In this series, we see one from every part of their lives.

- Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC (Katya Petrova from the Forgotten Ghost series) - Wordcount: 1.2k - Warnings: bit angsty, but with a happy ending - This series will have multiple parts (6 or more) to celebrate my book Forgotten Ghost reaching 2 Million reads on Wattpad! We're kicking off with the Black Widow movie era (post Accords/Civil War) so this series will be out of order. Masterlist

A/N: thank you @nataliasquote for this idea! Couldn't imagine a more perfect way to celebrate 2 mil.

2016

''I can go without fries, you know?'' Katya said as Natasha turned onto the McDonald's parking lot.

It was dark, the only time they stepped outside their safehouse—or car, if that's all they had at that moment—if they could help it, but tonight, Natasha decided a date night was long overdue. Since they went on the run, months ago, there'd been none. There'd barely been any kisses or hugs either, let alone sex. They'd both been too depressed to do so.

But ever since they snuck onto a flight from rainy London to sunny Rome and started driving north in a stolen car, Natasha seemed a bit happier. Maybe it was the sea, or the sun giving her much-needed vitamin D, but when she saw the poster in the local supermarket advertising a drive-in cinema, she was adamant on going.

The movie wasn't important. The fact that it was in Italian even less—they both spoke it fluently. What was important was that for those two hours, their lives would be about something else than surviving the day. They'd at least try.

''It'll be quick, there's barely a line,'' Natasha insisted, already pulling up behind the last car in the short drive-through line. She reached up to ensure her hood was on and covered her face as much as possible, nervous now that they were no longer moving fast. Her eyes shot in every direction, checking all mirrors repeatedly.

''You're risking a lot for date night,'' Katya teased half-heartedly, wondering where this sudden motivation came from. She feared one of Natasha's fears had taken the overhand, especially the one that revolved around losing her.

''You said you missed french fries.''

That was both sweet and sad. Grasping at straws, that's what it felt like. Desperately doing anything to try and make the other happy, even momentarily. But french fries weren't going to fix anything.

Katya kept her concerns to herself, though. Nowadays, Natasha didn't want to be confronted with anything.

The guy operating the ordering system would never know Natasha wasn't a native Italian if there wasn't a camera. Her speech was fluent and without accent, and the girl at the pick-up window didn't look at their faces twice. Before they knew it, they were on their way again with an amazing-smelling bag on Katya's lap.

Finding the drive-in cinema was a bit of a hassle. Since they solely survived on burner phones and tossed their last one in a bin back in London, they couldn't pull up a GPS. But they found the location, bought their tickets the same way as buying food at McDonald's—through the car window, with stolen cash—and found a parking spot at the back of the field.

It was too dark for any of the surrounding cars to see who sat in this one. It was perfect.

Katya reclined her seat and unpacked the brown paper bag on her lap, handing over Natasha's portion of fries and a milkshake. The redhead was less eager to relax, but tried to, flicking her eyes away from the surroundings and to her freshly fiancée-turned-wife. It was the smell of the food that reminded her exactly of how hungry she was.

''Thanks,'' she said, in the same monotone voice she'd used for months. Katya just smiled back.

The movie started shortly after. The days had been a blur lately, but within seconds, Katya was reminded that it was the week of Halloween when she recognized the first scenes of the movie, Friday The 13th. No movie would ever scare her. Straight-faced, she watched the scariest of them. They could never relate to the horrors she had seen in real life. That's probably part of the reason she couldn't focus on this one.

The silence between her and Natasha felt weird, like it had for a while now. Their silences never used to be weird. In fact, most of their time spent around each other happened in silence. But so many unspoken things, so much sadness, hung around their heads like a raincloud. The rain never fell, but the cloud went wherever they went, pressing, looming overhead.

No matter how many times she said that the past no longer mattered, Katya knew Natasha still beat herself up over everything that happened. Choosing the 'wrong' side in the fight around the Accords, therefore not being there to prevent Katya from being brainwashed again. Putting their relationship in jeopardy in the first place. The big, ugly scar on Katya's shin that reminded Natasha of the literal hurt she caused.

''Natalia?'' Katya muttered, glancing at her face. It was so dark she could barely see it, the screen too far away to provide any light.

''Hm?'' Natasha didn't look away from the screen, placing another fry in her mouth. Her movements were on edge, restless about being around so many people.

''You know I love you, right?'' Katya saw her jaw pause. Another thing they didn't do often anymore; say they loved each other. It was worrying how quickly usual things became unusual. ''Things are shit, but it's you and me, always. And that's enough for me.''

Natasha swallowed thickly, because of emotions or not, and turned to face her. For the first time since everything went down, Katya was blessed with a look that she realized she'd taken for granted. That look that said, 'I love you more than anything in this world'. A less intense version of it, but it glimmered in her eyes in the dark.

''I know. I love you too,'' Natasha said softly. She tried a smile, barely reaching her eyes. But her words were sincere, and Katya's pathetic heart skipped a beat. ''Always.''

The air in the car lightened, the raincloud started to thin, and Katya smiled, placing her hand on Natasha's underarm. They were still them, incredibly in love, just disconnected from each other at the moment.

''Thank you for doing this for me,'' she whispered, as the people in the cars around them screamed at a jumpscare. Natasha tensed up again, but Katya knew the best way to return her focus to her. ''Can I ask for one more thing?'' She waited until her intrigued wife nodded. ''Kiss me?''

A genuine smile flashed across Natasha's face. She put her fries down, took Katya's face in her hands, and kissed her. It was nothing like the short pecks they shared lately. The press of her lips was tender, but the way they moved against Katya's felt desperate too. Desperate to tell her what her words couldn't. Desperate to keep her. It hurt in a good way.

They were both out of breath when she pulled back.

The raincloud had disappeared. Both their smiles came from a place of real joy. Katya missed the warmth on her cheeks when Natasha removed her hands and was quick to snatch one of them up, intertwining their fingers. Without a word, as synched as they both were, they burned back to the screen. But not without cuddling up to each other first.

Scooting closer to the middle console, Katya rested her head on Natasha's shoulder, feeling a squeeze of her hand down in her lap. She'd craved this, as touchstarved as she was. For an hour longer, they could fool themselves that all was right in the world. That they were just two lovesick newlyweds on a date.

Katya already knew, but this gave her more faith that they'd be alright. And who knew, maybe they'd be in Italy again some day, under better circumstances.

#katandnat #katyaromanoffpetrova #natasha romanoff #forgotten ghost series #natasha romanoff x fem!oc #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader

94 notes · View notes

flodaya · 18 days

Note

I still wonder how that conversation went down. Like what was her excuse to not do the French talk show when she is the most famous and loved person in the cast😭

sorry yall i am really sick and in desperate need for some Vitamin D 🥰 see yall tomorrow

32 notes · View notes

pearlywritings · 2 years

Text

Come with me, my love

synopsis: the best way to heal is to go somewhere else. Do not worry, your lover has already taken care of that.

pairing and characters: Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli x reader (separately)

tw: pure fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 2.9k+ words in total

author’s note: I dedicate it to my dear @lunargrapejuice , I hope this will bring you comfort you need, my dear 💛 and also to anyone else who is in desperate need of it☺

Albedo

The concept of relationship is fairly new to Albedo, he’s still exploring the field and is learning new things, even though you two have already changed the status to official. However, he is unbelievably observant, and his ability to note anomalies comes in handy when it concerns you.

Lately he’s noticed how you haven’t been your usual self - the bubbly, smiley, affectionate, lively self with energy almost bursting out of your body. You’ve become grim, sluggish, and didn't come to him for a kiss or a hug unless it was him who approached you and gave you those. In the moments like this you were clinging to him, as if fearing he’d break the comforting atmosphere and go back to his research. But the one thing the young man understood about relationships is the importance of being there for your partner.

Albedo didn’t ask you to tell him what’s wrong - you’ll open up to him when you are ready if you’d ever feel like that - he knows and trusts you. He just holds you close until you doze off and only then comes back to his work table to wrap up whatever is hanging and call it a night.

When it goes like this for over a week, the blond becomes really concerned and understands that it requires some more drastic measures. He officially submits documents for a couple of days off to Jean, informs his alchemist team about his absence and starts researching and planning an immaculate solution to the issue before him.

The gathered data eventually suggests that going out somewhere away from bustling places of constant presence and unwinding is what usually helps to deal with growing depression. You might think his first thought would be taking you out to Dragonspine. After all, the scenery is breath-taking (when there are no raging blizzards), it’s serene and mostly quiet, and no one can disturb you two.

…well, he considered it.

But ultimately he decided on a beach day. Just you, and him, and Klee, since he knows how strongly you adore the little troublemaker. Listen, maybe taking a child who loves fish blasting to the lake isn’t the best idea, but Albedo checked and rechecked her belongings to make sure everything exploding was left home before actually going there.

Weaponizing Klee's charms was a clever decision and proved to be effective. The pyro user becomes your energizer as she constantly asks you to search for seashells, play with her in the water, draw Dodoko on the sand (Albedo, who joins you in almost every activity, undoubtedly wins this one), search for seashells some more, play with a ball, build sand castles…

You plop onto your towel only when the girl starts chasing the crabs, gleefully laughing and swinging her bucket in which she was going to put her new "friend". Your lover hums, keeping an eye out for her to not get into any sort of predicament and sits down next to you, side by side, bending one leg and resting his arm on the knee.

“How’s the vitamin D absorption going?” You chuckle at his choice of words, but then again, you spent so much time inside your shared apartment, of course your organism started lacking the sun rays.

“Pretty awesome, I must admit,” rearranging your body so you could lie down with the man still sitting close, you give your body a good stretch, contently sighing.

“Glad to hear that,” elegant artistic fingers reach out to brush the stray locks from your face, and you quickly catch his wrist, bringing it to your lips to leave a soft kiss.

“Thank you, ‘bedo. I am sorry if I caused you trouble with my… well…” You trail off, but of course he understands what you mean.

“No need to apologize,” a small, but warm smile graces his lips, “You didn’t cause me any trouble, sunshine.”

At the sweet petname your heart skips a beat and mouth twists in your attempts to not reveal a stupid grin. The Chief Alchemist is enchanted by you, so bright and shining, drinking in your soft expressions and bashful body language.

The mission deems to be a success, but solidifying the results with late night cuddles back home wouldn’t hurt.

Diluc

The owner of the Dawn Winery hates parting with you for longer than a work day, even though sometimes the list of his duties keeps him away from you for exactly over a full work day. That’s why he loathes business trips that require his presence.

You hate those too, because it means you won’t get to get a morning kiss from him and give him one, share breakfast with him, see him throughout a day and sneak sweet kisses and hand holdings in private of the backroom of the tavern, walk with him or welcome him home, feel his arms around you when he climbs through the window of your shared bedroom at the winery after his late night endeavors…

You won’t get to see his vibrant eyes - hazy with sleep, sharp when annoyed and absolutely swirling with adoration when he gazes at you. You won’t get to whine for him to stay in bed for just a little longer, because the warmth of his body is too precious to lose so easily. You won’t get to drag his gloves off of his hands when he doesn’t go out in the city at night, preferring to go to sleep with you. You won’t get to braid or unbraid his flaming hair, massage his scalp and listen to his calm content breathing, as he eagerly leans in your arms.

You get the point - business trips are the worst.

And your feelings are completely mutual on Diluc’s end, even if some of the reasons for him feeling agitated may vary.

This is exactly why you are planting your feet on one of the streets of Fontaine, holding onto your fiance’s hand and curiously looking around you. This time the man’s heart ached when he saw an absolutely heart-broken look on your face when he informed you of yet another we-cannot-sign-this-deal-without-you business trip. The past two weeks had been hard for both of you, and the lack of seeing each other only worsened your mood and made you feel so miserable. A week more without him? You didn’t think you’d endure it without crying, because everything was pressing on your shoulders and it was suffocating, nearly crushing.

The decision was fast and simple - going there together. While Diluc Ragnvindr enjoys privacy, he feels pride at the idea of showing his amazing significant other - soon to become a spouse - off. The amount of mischief concealed within the multiple walls of his character can’t help but look forward to you cutting off the suitors that inevitably come after the young wine tycoon. He knows you can do it just with a single glance and that’s one of the things he loves about you - the power of your beautiful eyes. He himself is weak before the effect of them.

“So… This is Fontaine…” You whisper in awe, still observing everything your gaze has an opportunity to be cast upon. Your hand is still clinging onto his, and something flutters in the male’s chest, when you gently tug on it, urging him to move after you.

“First things first - we are purchasing the Kamera. I want to capture all the moments we’ll share here,” at your proclamation Diluc softly chuckles, briefly turning around and signaling for the servants to unload your carriage and bring everything into the house he rented for you to stay in.

“Sure, my flame. I’d love that as well.”

You grin happily - looks like there is no trace of your previous depressed state anymore. A day in the carriage huddled in blankets together managed to heal your sullen mood and partially feed your desire for being close with him. Don’t think he didn’t enjoy it too, only Celestia above knows how desperately this man craved your presence and affection - it’s just that you and your satisfaction come first.

This trip must give you many memories and Diluc will make sure to spend all the free time he’ll have with you. Oh, but to think of it, in his busy time he also can have you there, because what are they gonna do? Revoke the deal they themselves begged him to consider? Exactly - no.

You are stuck with him, and honestly, this is the best thing when we are talking about two touch-starved and presence-craving lovers.

Kaeya

“Kaeya, I am nervous.”

“You better not be, she’ll sense that you are not in control.”

“You are not helping!”

The man, whose leg literally brushes against yours, as the two horses - a pitch black one and golden with flaxen mane and tail one - slowly march side by side along the road of a Starfell Valley, finds it cute. Finds you cute. A crease between your eyebrows from before disappeared and the look on your face was replaced with such adorable concern. You really don’t have anything to worry about, the girl he chose for you is the calmest specimen he has in stables, very docile and friendly, having been won by you with a piece of apple you offered to her prior to this walk. It is really much better when getting you on his stallion, who is not that tolerant to the people who are not Kaeya himself.

“Do not worry, I am not letting go of her reins until you are ready to try it yourself,” he assures you in a soft voice, which smoothness infiltrates all your senses and lulls the rising unease. “Swing your body lightly back and forth with the horse’s steps, it’ll help you to stay in the saddle and help you feel the movement under you. Trust me, it’ll help.”

“O-oh, alright,” with his palm pressed against the small of your back, you try doing as he says, carefully moving your body. His thumb gently rubs your skin under a thin blouse, assuring you that everything is okay, and, when you glance at him from the corner of your eyes, he offers you a sweet smile, murmuring ‘god job, snowflake’ just above the whisper. It makes your heart flutter and lips form a small smile of your own. Your lover is your salvation, really. The moment he saw your gloomy face upon arriving home, he knew he’d go any lengths to bring a smile back to your face. Kaeya consoled and cuddled you that evening, and a couple of days later took you out of the city to spend his day off together.

A horse walk idea has been stuck in his mind for a month already, after you became a witness of him training recruits, the ones that signed for cavalry. Him, on his stallion, with reins in one hand and a training sword in another, entranced you, to the point you snapped out of your stupor only when he hopped on the ground and approached you with a teasing smirk.

Now his words and expressions lack the usual banter, the softness of his cerulean eye blending with the spotless sky above, the rustle of his lips being like one of the grass and leaves the wind plays with, and his smile warmer than the afternoon sun. He belongs in Mondstadt so much. He belongs next to you so much.

Wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kaeya’s visible eye widens when you, using stirrups, rise and reach to him, pressing your lips together. The hand on your back instantly slides further and settles on your hip, keeping you steadied, as his mouth slowly devours yours. He senses no more negative feelings inside your body, and it sparks joy in his chest, which spreads through his body in waves of lingering warmth.

Your eyes sparkle when you separate and the man nearly lets go of both his and your reins, reprimanded by his horse’s disgruntled snort.

“Thank you, Kae,” Archons your smile is blinding, “I needed it.”

“No need to thank me. I got you. Always,” and you giggle when he smooches right under your chin.

“So, when can I trot?”

“Trot?” He nearly snorts at your zeal. “Haven’t even held the reins, and wanna trot already?”

“But you looked so elegant while doing so!”

“Got you mesmerized, eh?” You lightly pinch a hand still resting on your hip. “Ouch! Goodness, Y/n, can’t you admit you are head over heels for this Cavalry Captain?”

“In your dreams, Alberich,” you stick a tongue at him and the man is completely reassured that his Y/n is back.

“Then I’ll be waiting in my dreams. As for reality, I wouldn’t be opposed to giving my love private lessons in horse-riding.”

“Oh! Can we start today?” Eager, aren’t you? How lovely.

“Consider we’ve already started.”

Zhongli

The snowflakes are dancing in the sky, twirling and slowly lowering to the snow-covered ground, pristine whiteness almost blinding with how every tiny frozen crystal reflects the sunlight and sparkles like the finest gems of the Liyue mines. The crust is crunching under your legs, as you and your husband are taking your morning walk in the vast lands of Snezhnaya.

Truth to be spoken, Zhongli would’ve probably never found himself on the territory of the Cryo Archon, but this is a special case. He knew how badly you needed a change of place and new experience in your current dispirited state. No surprise he agreed almost immediately, when during his last visit to the land of Morax Childe invited the two of you to stay with him and his wife in their homeland. He promised no interruption from the Tsaritsa or the Harbingers, and, knowing that partially the invitation was surely coming from the ginger’s lover, whom he had met and whom both him and you found very pleasant to be around, the man believed it.

At first the idea of coming to Snezhnaya worried you, but Zhongli didn’t miss the curious and excited glint in your pretty eyes. He gave you time to consider the idea, and a week later the three of you were on a ship, half-way to the country of snow. The woman carrying Ajax’ real last name welcomed you warmly and with a big smile on her face, chewing her husband lightly for not having invited you two earlier.

The atmosphere that prevailed in this house surely helped distract you from oppressive thoughts, and exploring outside with your caring husband made you so tired, but in a pleased kind of sense, that you didn’t have the energy to spend it on anything but share a goodnight kiss with Zhongli and fall asleep in his comforting embrace. You were healing, and it couldn’t but delight him.

You took a liking to the walks in the early hours of morning, because it, as you proclaimed, was very refreshing for the beginning of the day. Being a morning person Zhongli always joins you on your little outings. Childe introduced a thermos to you two, and ever since your husband tends to have it on him whenever you are outside. The tea in there has a calming and soothing effect, meticulously prepared by skillful hands with love and care.

Another thing you both became fond of was dancing. Just like snowflakes in the air you spin in each other’s embrace, heavy cloaks with fur collars barely swiping the snow under your feet. A soft melody hummed in deep voice mixed with gleeful giggles, turning into a shared laughter soon into the dance that really didn’t have any name.

Sometimes though the quietness around you awakes a feeling of loneliness and you can’t help but shed tears, face pressed to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around your form. He lets you cry and release the negative emotions, gently swaying your bodies to some rhythm existing only in the beat of his heart. He tries to swipe your tears before they turn into the frozen droplets and sting your eyes or bite your cheeks.

The usual expensive leather of his gloves is replaced by thick wool and feels warm against your face, as his big palms cradle it in his delicate hold.

“My gem…” the puff of hot air from his mouth caresses your nose - that’s how close he is - and you cutely wrinkle it. “Don’t you think we should return? It’s been almost an hour, your skin is burning from the cold already.”

“Must we really?” An adorable pout doesn’t work on a stoic man, as he lets go of your face and, to the accompaniment of your squeals, hoists you in his arms bridal style.

“If you refuse to use your two legs, then I’ll just carry you,” his smile is disarming, damn him.

“All the way back?”

“Why, of course, my dear. Do you question my strength?”

“No, of course not! It’s just…” Though your cheeks are already red, he doesn’t mistake the way you avert your eyes in quiet embarrassment.

“Oh, is this position making you shy? Don’t worry, I am sure our hosts will understand.”

“You..!” The man chuckles lightheartedly, not having it in him to stop himself from teasing you. Ah, this truly is refreshing, and Zhongli is so elated to see a once again happy smile that you desperately try to hide in the fur of your coat.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo kreideprinz #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #zhongli #albedo kreideprinz x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact fluff

524 notes · View notes