#profiler!reader

[ohmygraves]

it started off as a prank.

soap and gaz were fooling around, really. nothing too serious, not expecting much from it. hell, the account was in soap's phone. ghost didn't even know anything about it.

the two created a tinder account for the lieutenant, just to see what kind of people would be so inclined to message a masked man like him.

photos were taken candidly, most of it from soap's own stash (don't ask). something more serious was cropped from group pictures, from either the bar or during a mission. gaz thought of the introduction, with little embellishments to make it more ridiculous. the goal was to see how many would swipe right to the scary, masked lieutenant.

of course, the sergeants were surprised to see so many match notifications, to the point that soap's phone would just erupt with notification sounds, even during briefings. safe to say, the poor scot got in trouble, and ended up turning off the notification for the app.

most of the matches seems to be coming from a place of lust, a lot of requests of one night stands or fuck buddies (what is it with people who liked masked men, the two thought). many seemed very forward and to the point with what they wanted. it was ridiculous trying to scroll through the first messages and reading them one by one.

but then there's you.

you: hello, i feel like i've seen you before. are you staying at the base near (location)?

soap and gaz thought your first message was interesting. it could be that you knew the lieutenant somewhere, or had seen him at least once. you seem to be a real person too, judging from your profile. photos of you indicated as such.

gaz wanted to call it quits, ghosts you just like every other match that they received, but soap wanted to take it a step further, even if gaz was completely against the idea. bickering for a while, soap ended up sending a text, and that's how you started talking to "ghost".

ghost: yeah. do i know you from somewhere?

soap had expected it to be a flirting attempt, though he was surprised to see an actual answer.

you: oh, i think i've seen you a few times outside of the base.

you: i frequent the café nearby ^^

oh, you're so cute and innocent, soap kinda felt bad for lying now.

ghost: i see

ghost: perhaps i'll see you sometime too? ;)

soap got addicted to posing as ghost. the two of you texted back and forth during his break, sometimes even at night. soap stayed up and missed some sleep just for some elaborate joke that kept going and going, and gaz was just tuning into the drama too.

everything was fun at first, not everyday the scot got to roleplay as the lieutenant, especially since the man was such a dry texter. it was funny trying to come up with an awkward reply or even just flat messages when talking to you. you were just so nice and oblivious to it though.

soap nearly lost his marbles when you asked to meet up in the cafe near the base, and asked when it was possible. you knew that soldiers frequently are given a leave, so perhaps "ghost" would love to meet you when he had the time. the scot was sure that he went too far this time, earning "i told you so" look from gaz even when he's clearly also enjoying the shenanigans.

they decided that it's finally time to come clean to the man in question.

ghost, of course, was furious. not only that this was a violation of privacy, soap and gaz had wasted a random person's time because of some elaborate joke that went too far. now they even want to meet with him too.

soap thought that the only way to fix this was just to inform you as well. it was only fair as you're also affected by this. hell, he didn't even know that his "casual" flirting (which was a loose term considering ghost's texting habits that soap adapted for this roleplay) would be enjoyed by someone, even getting the lieutenant a date too. the scot insisted that you two still meet anyway, and that he would be there too to apologize.

ghost, of course, was definitely against it. he had been dragged into this against his will, and it's not like he had the time too. why would he entertain the two sergeants who got him into this mess—

but perhaps just a cup of tea with a beautiful person like you would be nice... perhaps...

reluctantly, ghost agreed to the date, letting soap talk to you to set up a time and place. while looking at your pictures and the past conversations, he didn't seem to mind that he's now on some sort of a blind date...

[yourmomxx]

i wanted to request something sweet with my man aaron hotchner. like r and him work at the bau but their relationship is a secret until r kiss him on accident because shes excited about something!!! i hope this make sense idk!

thanks bestie have a great week!

i’m loving me some babygirl aaron hotchner honestly, i hope you like how this turned out!!

The office lights were blinding.

Like clinically cold balls of headlights that were penetrating through your skull, buzzing at an abnormally high frequence consistently.

You groaned inwardly and pressed the balls of your hands deep into your eyesockets, anything to just make that stupid headache go away so you could continue filing your reports that laid unedited on your desk.

You tapped the head of your pen vigorously against the desk top to jog a flow of words for you to write down.

With your hand supporting your head, you didn't notice a figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

"Hey." The tone of Aaron Hotchner's voice was soft and warm, but you still couldn't help but jump at the unexpected presence so near next to you.

You sighed when you noticed it was him, and leaned your head on your hand again. "Hey."

Aaron threw a look on you, then your files, and then your hunched figure again.

His gaze softened.

"Why don't you go home?" He suggested. You opened your mouth to openly protest, but Aaron cut you off before you even started talking.

"You need the rest," He made it clear to you, "and I'm sure Jack would love if you read him a story before bedtime."

You threw him a look. "You can't just lure me home using your son. That's not fair game."

The corners of Aaron's mouth twitched and he tilted his head.

You sighed. "Even if I wanted to go home," You said, "This paperwork won't finish itself."

Aaron moved closer to you and threw a glance over your shoulder, one hand supporting his weight on your desk as he leaned over your body.

"Let me do it," He offered.

You turned to look at him. "I can't ask that of you."

Aaron straightened up. "You're not asking, I'm offering."

Carefully, he pulled your pen out of your hand and put it back into its designated holder with multiple other ones that probably weren't even functioning anymore.

"Now," He drew out slowly, while his fingers were circling under the collar of your jacket hung over your chair, and he held it out to you, "Go home."

You threw him a doubting look. Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"I can make this an order if I want to."

You raised your hands, defeated.

"Alright, alright."

Slowly, you rolled your chair back and stood up, and accepted happily when Aaron helped you slip into the warm jacket. His hands kept steadying you at your shoulders. You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax against him for the blink of a second.

"Thank you," You muttered to him.

Aaron nodded. "Of course."

Your bag was already packed, it was a plus, as you lifted it off the floor.

"Maybe you can read Jack the book you brought him the last time," Aaron suggested. "He hasn't put it down since I showed him."

At his words, your face cracked into a huge, beaming smile.

"He actually liked it?" You hushed. Aaron nodded, smiling.

"That was my favorite book as a child, I'm so glad!"

You strode forward and pulled him closer to you in a short, but emotion-pouring kiss.

When you leaned away, Aaron smiled.

"Get home safe," He said. "Text me."

You dug out your headphones out of your bag and smiled at him.

"Always."

Then, not without throwing your lover a last kiss in your steps, you made your way out of the glass gates and left the building.

Only when the closed elevator doors put you out of his line of sight, Aaron allowed himself to finally pull out your chair and sit down.

He cracked open one of the brown files and started writing.

Only a few tables away, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were frozen in the same position they had been in just one minute ago.

Emily opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

Derek turned to Rossi. "Should we-?"

"No." The elder Agent cut him off.

Emily gestured wildly with her hands. "But they just-"

"I know, but - let's just not."

Spencer tilted his head.

Emily gave in.

They all just watched as their Unit Chief sat on your desk and filled out files that weren't his, as if it was the most normal thing on earth.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Gyutaro NSFW Profile

Yandere! Gyutaro x fem! reader

Tw: non-con, dub-con, stalking, kidnapping, Gyutaro threatens a couple to let him watch them have sex, exhibitionism, masturbation, period sex, spitting, minor implications of somnophilia, mentions of physical violence, threats, murder, Gyutaro is a freak and likes to hold your hand during sex, 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: 13K

HABITS:

Generally speaking, Gyutaro has never really touched himself. Perhaps when he was younger, still a human and going through puberty, but for the vast, vast majority of Gyutaro’s life, his demon biology has rendered every sexual urge he feels dulled to the point of disappearing.

That said, he’s still able to grow jealous at hearing when human partners are intimate with one another, their moans and cries grating on his ears and making him scowl, anger simmering in his veins because why can’t he have that?

Sure, he could find some random human woman and take what he wants from her, but there’s something about the way humans clutch onto one another, moaning out praises and begging for more that enticing Gyutaro, making him feel shy and bashful and pissed because he knows that will never be him. He’ll never have a woman gasping his name in anything other than fear, and although he’s accepted it, he’s wildly jealous.

However, because his actual sexual urges themselves are diminished, Gyutaro more often finds himself jealous than horny – a stark difference between the two. And consequently, he has minimal experience with masturbation, and he frankly doesn’t care. His logistical situation with Daki makes finding the time to touch himself in his own private space extremely difficult. Plus, there’s something awfully pitiful about wrapping his fingers around his cock with the knowledge that they’ll only ever be his fingers, no one else’s – something that makes him warble and scratch himself bloody, effectively killing any libido he’d managed to feel.

But with all of that said, things begin changing once his infatuation with you develops. He’s not immediately wishing to fuck you, but as Gyutaro becomes more comfortable with the idea of intimacy with you, lewd thoughts start tainting the edges of his mind, turning the relatively innocent fantasy of cuddling with you into grinding against your ass, grasping your thigh and lifting it up just barely so that he can slot himself inside, breathing hard into your ear and growling, the sound throaty and heady and so very needy.

And really, is that so unnatural?

Sure, his libido isn’t the strongest, but imagining the woman he thinks he’s in love with to be naked and laid out underneath him isn’t out of the ordinary, right?

He’s sure all men think about the depraved thoughts that start worming their way into his imagination – they’re mostly questions, really, tying into his obsessiveness and desperation to learn as much about you as he possibly can.  

He’s idly wondering how you sound when you moan – is it airy, high-pitched, low, gasping?

How do you look when you come? Does your face scrunch up, does your mouth drop open, do you close your eyes, does your back arch, do you curl your toes, do you reach out and grasp at anything you can find?

What’s your favorite position? He’d be willing to try all of them if you’d like, if you’re unsure – Gyutaro secretly thinks his own favorite will be having you on top, your pretty tits mere inches from his lips and giving him a perfect view of both your own face and your cunt sucking him in again and again and again, the sight making him dizzy with pleasure and forcing him to grasp your hips and fuck up into you, just to hear you gasp and moan and scream his name.

Have you ever squirted? He hopes no man has ever touched you at all, much less made you squirt, but Gyutaro swears he’ll get you to do it – he wants to feel your release all over his face, coating his fingers, tongue, chin, and cock, smeared across every inch of his skin and worn proudly.

Do you like to be praised or degraded, and do you like your lovers vocal? Gyutaro sure hopes so, because he knows he won’t be able to shut up when he’s buried balls deep inside you, your wet, warm, tight walls clenching down on him and forcing curse after groans out of him, practically milking him for both his cum and his moans. He wouldn’t mind praising or degrading you – what naturally slips out of his mouth when he’s fucking his fist is a healthy mix of both, imagining you in front of him and calling you my perfect slut or something of the sort.

Do you groom yourself, keeping everything perfectly smooth and shaved, or do you let nature takes its course? He hopes it’s the latter – he wants to relish in your scent, to bury his face between your legs and inhale deeply, getting a nose full of you, something made much easier when your hair and pheromones are tickling his cheeks.

(While he prefers you to not shave, Gyutaro himself will try to clean himself up routinely – starting way before he steals you away, just so that he can learn how to do it, to make sure he knows how to so that he doesn’t embarrass himself the first time you see him naked. The thought already embarrasses him enough – to have his body open to your scrutiny, to feel you looking at him, and he really doesn’t need the extra stress. Luckily for him, his quick regeneration means no accidental knicks with the razor knife last long – unfortunately, it also means that any cut hair regrows almost instantaneously, much to his displeasure. He’s hopeful you won’t be too disgusted by his pubes the first time you see him – though the dark hairs do a good job of framing the very, very long cock hanging between his legs.)

Quite honestly, he stalks you with such intensity and consistency that he’ll know the answer to many of these questions before long – he's memorized how you look when you come, your face ingrained into his brain and flashing behind his eyelids when he’s orgasming himself. But it’s different to be thinking about something like that – something so naughty. Gyutaro spends his time idly wondering these questions, a pale pink blooming on his cheeks because it’s just so dirty and you’re so very sweet, and thinking of you in such a lewd light almost makes him feel guilty.

Almost, because then he sees you, hiding from the shadows and getting the smallest whiff of your scent every few seconds, and then suddenly all guilt is gone because fuck, he needs you.

However, Gyutaro is still oddly shy about certain things with you. As such, when he first begins fantasizing about fucking you, there’s that small, annoyingly human part of him that worries if you’ll find him revolting once he’s fully nude in front of you, vulnerable to your facial expressions and any words of negative reaction.

He’s terrified, really, that you’ll find him unattractive or too repulsive to sleep with. He wants you to want him, to need him as he needs you, and if you were to call him ugly, a monster, anything of the sort? Well, it would take the demon a long, long time to recover from such a blow to his heart, old wounds tearing open fresh to endure another bout of pain.

And so, in a panicked and a frantic attempt to avoid any negative criticism from you once your intimate relationship begins, Gyutaro decides that he needs to learn more about actual sex, not just the crude, vulgar words he hears from the human men around him. If he wants to have any hope at making you actually enjoy sex with him (something he desperately, desperately wants), Gyutaro feels that he needs to see the real thing, to observe carefully and take notes.

Luckily, it’s not particularly hard to find a coupling around the Entertainment District, sneaking across roofs and peeking into windows until he hears moans and slapping sounds and sees writhing bodies and smells the musty, acrid odor of sex. And once he does, Gyutaro is quick to step down into the room, his presence casting a shadow against the moonlight and candle light of the room, the couple immediately stopping and staring at him in fear.

Before either person has a chance to scream, Gyutaro’s rushing forward, a hand covering each mouth and a sneer on his face as he tells the man that he’s so lucky, having a pretty woman to fuck every night… show me.

The man’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head underneath Gyutaro’s hand, causing the demon’s sneer to fall into a scowl. He needs to see this couple make love – he needs tips and advice, to see how it really goes. Plus, the woman’s body is somewhat similar to yours – perhaps you have similar spots that feel particularly good, and Gyutaro will take any and every scrap of information and ideas he can in order to make eventual sex with you good.

Anything to get you moaning his name and pulling at his hair and begging him for more.

Let me watch you fuck her, or I’ll kill you both. What’s your choice, huh? Gyutaro holds eye contact with the man, watching him debate, feeling the woman trembling and crying under his other hand.

His eye twitches – damn this man for loving the woman, because his slight hesitation in answering means he doesn’t want Gyutaro to see her nude, vulnerable, exposed, and it’s making Gyutaro imagine someone propositioning him this about you. Violent images of how he’d slaughter and kill whoever was threatening to see you moaning and gasping and naked flash through his mind, making him grit his teeth and press against their mouths harder.

At that, the man frantically nods yes, and Gyutaro snickers. Eh, you bastard, letting me watch you touch your woman? Pathetic, man, pathetic.

He takes his hands off their mouths, bracing himself for any screams, but when none come he smiles – a mean, twisted smile. I want to see everything, you know? Start over, act like I’m not here. I’m just watching, so give me a good show but be natural! I’ll kill you if you’re not natural.

Gyutaro scratches at his chest as he settles back against a wall on the side of the room, watching as the couple shakily sits up. The woman is still crying, but the man cups her cheek in his palm, swallowing hard, before slotting his lips against hers. The woman immediately begins kissing him back, the motions slow and hesitant.

Gyutaro growls, his voice forceful as he tells them to kiss harder, I’ll cut off your lips if you don’t.

That gets the two of them moving faster, the audible wet noises as her tongue slips into his mouth making Gyutaro lick his lips. It’s all too easy to imagine you in the woman’s place and him in the man’s, his hand sitting at your breast just as the man’s is, idly squeezing and playing with her nipple. They spend a few more moments kissing, before the man carefully pushes the woman back, laying her down with her legs spread over, her hands held over her head.

They’re still kissing, and Gyutaro’s hand snakes down to cup at his bulge, the idea of wet noises and hovering over you making his breath short. He’s watching them seemingly without blinking, reaching down past the top hem of his pants and firmly clutching at this balls, squeezing harshly and making him hiss through his teeth as the man shimmeys down, kissing and licking at the woman’s breasts.

She keens, biting her lip and trying to not look at Gyutaro, the man using his thumb and index finger to roll her nipple, pinching and tugging while flicking his tongue over its twin. Gyutaro pulls his hands out of his pants briefly to spit into his palm, hand slithering back into his pants and gripping the base of his cock in a death grip.

He’s painfully hard at this point – the man’s head is suddenly between the woman’s thighs, and Gyutaro’s moving forward before he can even think about, still gripping himself under his pants as he nears the bed, wanting an up-close view of the man’s actions. They both tense at this, but Gyutaro scoffs.

Keep going, yeah? Just needed a better view.

The man swallows but obeys, tongue flicking out to lick a long stripe from her folds up and over her clit, making her sigh. Soon his tongue is flicking out and licking at the small bud, fingers pulling up to expose the area and make access easier. Gyutaro mentally notes that away – he knows women like when men play with their clit, and perhaps you’d be impressed by his knowledge of this, or the way he’ll pull your lips up, just so he can fully see that pretty, throbbing pearl on you.

The man’s free hand moves up to run a few fingers through her folds, his fingers suddenly soaking wet and glistening in the moonlight. Gyutaro licks his lips – god, he wants to taste you so bad, his tastebuds tingling and his mouth literally salivating at the thought of tasting your lips, what’s between your legs, even your tears. Gyutaro’s hand slowly moves up, hand slicked with spit lessening the friction and making him lowly groan. The man slips a finger inside her, the woman’s small moan making the man’s brows twitch together.

Gyutaro’s careful to watch the man’s pacing – his tongue is licking steady, consistent circles over her clit, while his fingers are thrusting slowly, carefully, adding a second finger after a few moments. Would you like the same pacing? Gyutaro’s not sure, but the hand not diligently pumping at his cock beneath his pants mimics the same finger motion as the man, his tongue slipping out to mimic licking small circles. He matches the man’s pace, wide yellow eyes slowly starting to go half-lidded from the pleasure of his fingers wrapped around his girth.

Tell me what feels best, woman.

He’ll snarl, keeping an eye on the way the man tenses up but doesn’t stop his actions. The woman’s flushed, her eyes darting to him before quickly looking away.

When – ah, when he curls his fingers up, fuck, and little circles on – oh! She cuts herself off with a moan, and Gyutaro (irritated that she didn’t finish but too focused on her instructions) repeats the words over and over in his head, modifying the hand motion he’s practicing to closely resemble her descriptions.

His fist moves a bit faster, creating a deft thump motion each time his fingers bump into his navel. The sound of the man fingering the woman is so, so very lewd, too – it’s wet, a squelching noise that makes Gyutaro drool, the idea that you’d be that wet making his throat dry, his hips bucking forward against his fist involuntarily.

Fuck her, now, ngh…

The man gulps, wiping the woman’s slick off of his lips and chin, and Gyutaro feels a particularly large glob of precum dribble from his tip, the extra lubrication making his pleasure just that much sharper.

Start over her.

He instructs as the man moves to hover over her, nodding at the demon’s words and slotting himself between her legs. Gyutaro watches intently as the man grips the base of his cock, aligning his tip with your hole, pushing forward and letting his eyes roll to the back of his head. Gyutaro sucks in a sharp breath – would you feel that good inside? He's sure you would; you’re so pretty and sexy, of course you have the best cunt. He bets it’s incredibly warm, wet enough to leave his cock, navel, and upper thighs coated in no time, and god you’d be so fucking tight, gripping him hard enough to make pulling out of you nearly impossible-

The woman lets out a wanton moan as the man starts moving, the pace immediately fast and bruising. The sound of his balls clapping against her ass fills the room, and Gyutaro pants, his fist moving faster and faster, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He transitions from moving his arm to thrusting his stationary fist, matching the man’s pacing and imagining it’s you getting fucked, that your cries are the ones ringing in his ears and it’s your pretty tits that are bouncing and jiggling with the force of the thrusts.

From behind – shit, from behind! He instructs, his voice strained with his impending orgasm.

The man listens, pulling out and carefully slipping her over, slipping back inside and listening to the way the woman cries out. Gyutaro’s eyes focus on her breasts as they sway and jiggle – you have a very similar size, and just the thought of him fucking you hard enough to get your tits moving makes his eyes flutter closed for a moment, eyebrows drawing tightly together at the thought.

This sight is even more erotic than the last position – it’s all too easy to imagine it’s him pulling at your hips, smacking his own against your ass again and again, making you feel him so deep, deep enough to get you chanting his name like a fucking prayer. Gyutaro moves forward and uses his free hand to grab the man’s, forcing his fingers into her hair and pushing her face down against the mattress, the new position making the man groan and the woman shudder.

Gyutaro curses, letting go and putting all his effort into fucking his fist to the same tempo, trying to match the man’s perfectly. He wants to fuck you like this, he decides – leaning over you like some sort of animal, mounting you, fucking you in the most raw, animalistic way.

You’d look so damn pretty, and he’s sure your pussy would make wet noises like hers is, your slick dripping down your thighs and your pleas to give you more more more please Gyutaro, need your cum!

Gyutaro gasps hard as cum sprays all along the inside of his pants, his fist slowing to a stop as he rides out his high, eyes half lidded and all sorts of groans and sharp exhales filling the room.

The couple stares, bewildered, unsure of what to do – he’s still fucking her but more gently, and Gyutaro smirks at them, still dazed from the pleasure and the idea of doing this to you. Licking his lips, he climbs onto the windowsill, glancing over his shoulder at them.

I’m coming back tomorrow night. He stares at the woman, a wide smile splitting across his features. You’re gonna show me how to suck cock right, yeah? Gotta make sure I can guide her when she-

He stops, swallowing, his cheeks still blushed from his orgasm and from the vulgar idea of you taking him down his throat.

Don’t you tell anyone about this, eh? I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you.

And with that, he’s gone, disappeared from the windowsill and leaving the man and woman to embrace each other, shaking in fear. Meanwhile, Gyutaro’s running from roof to roof, adrenaline filling his veins because he has to see you now – he’s too pent up, and he needs to see you in person. As expected, you’re asleep by the time he reaches your home, sitting on your window edge, licking his lips and breathing hard.

You’re so fucking pretty – he crawls closer, acutely aware to be quiet and not wake you. You’d fallen asleep on your futon, the blanket still neatly folded in the corner, and Gyutaro swallows before grabbing the cloth, pulling it over you and up to your chin, his hands trembling.

He sighs, his fingers itching to reach out and touch you, to bend you into the positions he’d seen the couples trying, but he refrains. He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t want you to be aware of his presence quite yet. He has to be patient, good – he’ll allow himself one pleasure, however, as he dips a finger inside his pants, scooping up some of his still warm cum and gently, gingerly smearing it across your lips, practically moaning at the sight of white against your skin.

You’re just so, so perfect – it almost makes him sick, but as he returns to the couple the next night, demanding the woman get on her knees, Gyutaro can’t help but shiver.

It may take him a while to actually touch you, but god, he’ll be ready.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your stomach

In general, one of the things that Gyutaro finds he adores about you as his obsession festers is how opposite the two of you are. Regardless of your weight, you are physically different from him – and Gyutaro notices this early on.

That is, his body is essentially just bone – skin stretched to cover his skeleton, while you have lovely warm, squishy skin covering your curves and pretty body. You’re so fucking soft – nothing on you can possibly be as hard as he is, and from the moment he first holds your waist with a slightly shaking hand he can’t help but notice this difference every time he looks at you.

He grows to love feeling the areas on you that hold the most squishiness, and his favorite place of all is your stomach. There’s something so relaxing about how warm the area is, your skin practically his personal hand warmer as he slides his hands into your kimono, his palms pressed snugly against your tummy.

They don’t move much; stationary, just simply feeling, the intention not inherently sexual. However, as you bring back small traces of his long-buried humanity, you also bring back traces of his libido, something that’s been noticeably gone throughout the duration of his time as a demon.

And so, as urges to kiss and touch you slowly begin seeping into his mind, Gyutaro slowly becomes fixated on the fact that you’re so fucking soft, the perfect thing for him to squeeze and lick and fuck until you’re crying and begging for more more more –

His sex drive isn’t monumental, but Gyutaro would be blatantly lying if he said he hasn’t fantasized about how soft you’d feel underneath him before, your pretty body on display for his greedy eyes.

He’s seen many humans naked, but the first time he sees you without any clothing on, his hands are immediately reaching out – and, surprisingly, heading directly for your stomach. His breaths come out harsher as he stares down at your exposed belly, the skin even softer somehow than when it touches it under your clothes.

As he starts regularly fucking you, get ready for his hands to always be gravitating towards your stomach, his fingers pressing into the soft fat while you writhe and squirm in his lap as he forces you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling back into his head while he practically drools.

He loses his composure during sex, and it’ll be more than apparent in the way he grasps onto your tummy like it’s his life line, as if you’re the only thing tethering him to Earth while his orgasm crashes over him.

And god, when he’s got you laying in front of him, your pretty legs parted to expose the soft, warm pussy he claims as his, Gyutaro uses your stomach as almost a pillow – he’s watching his fingers appearing and disappearing out of your cunt, your juices smeared across his pale skin as he rests his forehead on the softness of your lower belly.

His eyes are wide and unblinking, his lips parted in awe as he watches the way you just take them, your velvety walls clenching down repeatedly, hard enough to make his mouth water. He’s always leaving small kisses against your stomach after sex, an oddly sweet gesture that makes every bruise he leaves on your body from the rough fucking feeling slightly better.

It’s strange, his fascination, and at first you have the terrible, horrible fear that his obsession stems from wanting to grow his family with a child. It’s a terrifying thought, one you try to put out of your head, but eventually (after he forces you to tell him, his eyes turning dark and threatening as he demands you to tell me, don’t keep any secrets from me, ever) the fear is lost, as Gyutaro regretfully informs you that demons are infertile.

You’re relieved, but the question only seems to further ignite his obsession with your stomach – you’ll catch him speaking to it when you’re asleep, odd little confessions of if only I could… when you wake up.

Essentially, Gyutaro is obsessed with your tummy because it’s soft and squishy and fuck you’re so very pretty. 

His fingers 

Generally speaking, Gyutaro isn’t particularly fond of any specific body part of his own.

He’s proud of his ability to fight and destroy, but especially in the context of physical attractiveness, Gyutaro firmly believes what he’s always been told. He knows he’s unappealing; how could anyone ever like a monster with such a grotesque body and face?

It’s a cycle of self-deprecation that he’s found comfort in for most of his life, but once you appear, suddenly he’s wildly disappointed that he isn’t more handsome. He wishes he had a fuller figure, muscle spanning his chest and back, just like all those slayers he sees.

He wishes he had softer hair, a more symmetrical smile, less facial blemishes, everything.

He hates that he’s limited to human beauty ideals, but he can’t help it – how can he, when you’re around him looking so cute and adorable? You’re not perfect either (though he loves your imperfections perhaps more than anything else), but he wants to be perfect for you.

And so, while Gyutaro silently wallows in his self-misery, he slowly discovers that despite his lack of sexual experience and general understanding of human female anatomy, you seem to really, really like his fingers.

His nails were, initially, something you’d quickly stammered out a w-wait! to when he’d tried to shove a finger inside, and while he hadn’t appreciated your interruption, when you mentioned he could stab you and make you bleed with how sharp they were, he reluctantly digressed.

It’s not hard to bite off the excess sharpness of the nail, grinding them down to a roundness against the flesh of his finger, perfectly safe.

The first time he’d fingered you, Gyutaro was shocked at how impossibly warm, wet and tight you were inside. It was like touching velvet – so soft, your walls sucking him in and seeming to almost invite him inside, as if you wanted him there, like you didn’t want him to leave.

He’s staring transfixed at the way you take them, your pussy squelching as he slowly thrusts them in and out, your little squeals making his cheeks flush a very light pink. He loves the way you gasp when he curls them just so, brushing against the spongey spot he’s memorized as your favorite.

He loves to abuse the area; watching as your eyes squeeze closed, your fingers grasping onto his shoulders, your thighs tensing and clenching, your little cries of his name and yes – yes please ‘Taro, fuck please!

He loves how quickly he can get you falling apart with his fingers, how you’re reduced to nothing but a moaning, whimpering mess once he gets you below him. It boosts his confidence, and occasionally between thrusts inside, he’ll pull his fingers out and suck on them, his own little groan slipping out as he savors your taste, all musky and heavy.

And of course, once he discovers your clit, it’s over for you – he’s never leaving the small button alone, the bundle of nerves positively sore by the time he’s done with you. He’s rubbing small circles against it, drawing figure eights, writing the kanji for his name with the tip of his finger, anything he can to get your back arching up, your toes curling and your lips parting into that pretty ‘o’ he loves so much.

He’s constantly bewildered by just how much pleasure he can deliver you with only his hands, and so as he squeezes and gropes at your ass, breasts, stomach, anything and everything, just know that he’s feeling nearly as good as you are.

After all, those bandages as pants may be loose, but you can still see a very clear outline of just how excited he is – and just how much he’s enjoyed the way you’ve made a mess of his fingers, if the wet stain around said outline is any indicator. He just really, really likes using his fingers on you, so just let him, yeah?

DRIVE:

Gyutaro’s never been that horny. Having been turned into a demon while young, he’s never really experienced the human emotion of lust, his sexual urges having faded out from his teenage years to nearly nothing. He’s too consumed by other emotions – anger, jealousy, pity – to really focus on something so arbitrary, something so human.

And so, as a result of this repressed sexual drive Gyutaro doesn’t immediately begin lusting after you once his obsession with you begins to form. He isn’t desperate to fuck you the moment he realizes he feels some twisted form of love, nor does he want to touch you in any way that’s inherently sexual.

Instead, his urges to be with you and feel your skin are much, much more innocent in nature – of course, he’s still a man-eating monster, but he wants to touch your cheek just because it looks soft.

He wants to run his hands along your sides because you’re so small compared to his looming figure, and he wants to make sure that you’re real.

He wants to know how it feels to have you in his arms, because he’s seen human couples doing that and it’s a show of intimacy and connection between two people, and that’s what he wants to have with you.

As time passes, his urges towards you slowly begin moving towards the area of lusting, however. Soon he’s wanting to kiss you; his lips are always chapped, of course, and he’s sure his breath smells atrocious, but your lips look so soft and warm, like they’d be perfect to press against his own.

He imagines pressing you against his body as you kiss him, your hands resting against his chest as you sigh into his mouth, the human form of affection seeming so intimate and lovely and necessary.

It’s some long lost repressed human part of him driving these desires, but Gyutaro can’t find it in himself to care – especially not after the first time he sees you nude. He’s seen dozens of humans naked before; he lives in the Entertainment District after all, and when he’s devouring someone, he’s not particularly respectful with keeping them covered up.

However, there’s something different about you – maybe it’s because he feels so attached to you, or maybe it’s because he suddenly can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to embrace your naked body with his own, free of any fabric separating the both of you while he indulges in your warmth, softness, the plush skin of your body.

He’s not sure, but regardless, after that moment suddenly all those sexual feelings leftover from his time as a human come rushing back to him – he’s hard without even realizing it, his eyes bulging out of their sockets as he simply stares, his expression going dumb.

You’re uncomfortable with it, he can tell by the way you avoid his gaze, but he can’t find it in himself to care – you’re so beautiful, perfect for him in every possible way. And so, after that night, Gyutaro finds himself inching closer and closer towards the final level of intimacy, pushing the boundaries just a bit more each night until he’s eventually got you perched in his lap, his hands placed on your hips.

You’re both naked, your breasts placed tantalizingly close, close enough to be able to reach out and wrap his lips around your nipple, to suck and watch you keen, to maybe even sigh out his name…

He’s rendered mute by your pussy the first time he fucks you, truly too pussydrunk to really even think, as embarrassing as it is. The big, strong Gyutaro falls so easily to your body – one clench and he’s shuddering, every nerve in his body on fire as he tries not to come quite yet – only lasting thirty seconds is wildly embarrassing, and while you’d never poke fun at him for fear of dying, Gyutaro grits his teeth and tries to hold on to his dignity.

And so, sex with you becomes a regular craving for the demon. His urges aren’t too unbearable, and he only ever acts on it a few nights a week, but be prepared because Gyutaro will fuck you, and you will like it – he'll make sure you come, and doesn’t that mean you’re enjoying yourself?

But until he gather up enough courage to actually fuck you, Gyutaro takes baby steps. He can’t do too much all at once – he gets too overwhelmed, too shy and embarrassed because you’re looking at him, your pretty eyes and face and voice giving him attention. It makes his lips go numb, anxiously scratching at his arms and struggling to meet your gaze because god he wants to touch you and hear you moan his name, but how does one go about that, exactly?

Sure, he knows the basics of sex and has watched couples initiate it, but it’s different with you. It’s different because Gyutaro isn’t stupid – he knows you’re afraid of him, that he’s too grotesque and ugly for you to ever really want to be intimate with, and these thoughts make it hard for him to just take what he wants from you.

And so, he starts small – he'll touch you a little more, fingertips pressing hard into your sides when he ghosts his hands there, trying to be gentle but struggling to regulate his strength because you’re so close to him.

He’ll let his fingers brush over your hair, never enough for you to feel but just enough for the texture to become familiar, always bringing his fingers up to his nose and smelling them afterwards, something between a growl and a moan slipping from his lips at the scent.

He’ll reach out and lightly, oh so lightly press his thumb against your cheek, marveling at how soft your skin is and how warm it is, mumbling something under his breath about how you’re too pretty, how it makes him sick that you’re too damn pretty.

His breathing will be a little unsteady when his does this, those yellow eyes of his glancing between your own and your lips, contemplating in a way that he thinks is much more subtle than it actually is.

He wants all sorts of human intimacy with you, and the next thing that he wants to tackle is kissing you. The idea is strange to him - why do humans press their mouths together? It must feel good, but why? He’s curious, but touching you has such an effect on him, so surely tasting you would suck the air right out of his lungs, leaving his knees feeling weak and making pink bloom across his cheeks.

He doesn’t ask you for permission, instead one day coming to sit beside you against the wall of the lair, that familiar concentrated look in his eye. He’ll ask you some question whose answer he doesn’t care about – just to see your lips moving, watching with sharp eyes how your tongue contorts and moves inside your mouth, sometimes flicking out to lick at your lips, the sight almost making him whimper.

Soon, he can’t just watch – he’s rushing forward without any warning, pressing against you with a level of force that makes you yelp. His lips are dry and cracked (despite him having licked them excessively in preparation for this moment, wishing to make them as soft and pleasant as possible), and they’re not moving – he’s staying perfectly still, eyes wide open and staring at you.

It scares you, because while you know what he’s doing, the experience is anything but pleasant. He stays like that for a few moments, before slowly, very slowly moving, his lips clumsy and unsure as they work at you. It feels like he’s trying to eat you – his tongue and teeth stay firmly inside his mouth, but his lips keep trying to fit more and more of you into his mouth at once, saliva smearing across bits of your cheek and chin.

You’re still completely frozen, unsure of what to do, and Gyutaro pulls back, scowling. It had felt good – in a strange way, a way that made something in his stomach feel tight and warm, but he’s sure it would feel much better if you were participating too, if you’d actually kiss him back. Don’t just sit there, he’ll warble to you, not willing to actually ask you to kiss him back, his pride barring him from practically begging for what he wants.

(Though as your sexual relationship progresses, this pride slowly withers away and dies – to the point where he’ll get on his knees and beg for you to open your pretty mouth and suck him off, because even though he could force you easily, it always feels better when you consent, when you at pretend to actually want him.)

This time, as he leans in, your lips move too, trying to match his awkward kisses. Gyutaro groans at that, leaning further against you, the weight causing you to fall backwards, lying flat on your back. You’d pulled away from the kiss during the fall, and as Gyutaro stares down at you hungrily, he swallows, sucking through his teeth harshly and trying to get every drop of your saliva down his throat. You must really, really want him, huh?

The sight simultaneously flusters and flatters him, and before you can say a word he’s scrambling over you, pressing his lips against yours harshly, with vigor, his tongue slipping out and practically forcing its way down your throat. You just taste so fucking good – it's addictive, and the knowledge that you’d laid down for him, wanting him to hover over you and mimic sex making his head swim. He’s breathing hard through his nose, almost wheezing, and you quickly shut your eyes, not wanting to look at his still wide-open ones.

He kisses you for a long, long time – easily thirty minutes, not tiring of the feeling, his tongue still actively rubbing against yours, tracing every tooth and managing to dip into every crevice in your mouth, each new area making him groan and get just a hair more desperate.

When he eventually pulls away, he licks your lips and smiles shakily, a hand coming down to pet at your hair. Next time, will you take you shirt off? It probably grosses you out, huh, that request?

And when you nod with wide eyes, too scared to say no, Gyutaro will exhale slowly, nodding and muttering a series of slurred good’s and your name under his breath, before stalking off out of the lair. Once out of your sight he’s stopping, a hand coming up to scratch at the area right over his heart, his face morphing into something between despair and prevenance.

You’re just so damn pretty – he can’t handle the sight of you, and the image of you laid out before him, looking up at him with those eyes makes every muscle in his body tense, that familiar warm feeling in his groin growing tighter and tighter, and as a hand snakes down to palm at the now very noticeable and wet bulge in his pants, Gyutaro decides that he needs to speed this process up.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can take holding himself back – not if touching you and tasting you and making you gasp feel this good.

(Later that night, as he hovers over your sleeping form and tugs near painfully on his cock, Gyutaro decides that the next step can happen right then and there – you’d look so good with his cum smeared all across your face, wouldn’t you?)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

While Gyutaro has a difficult time believing your compliments initially, with time he grows much more willing (and desperate) to indulge in your sweet words.

Your kind praises of his caring actions – no matter how forced the words are – have him melting inside, his heart pounding in his chest while he struggles to hold your gaze. He reverts to a bit of a teenage boy in moments where you compliment him – and during sex?

Well, Gyutaro nearly passes out the first time you compliment his body. It takes so much courage for him to show you himself nude, if only because he’s so scared of the way you’ll react. What if you think he’s ugly, or weird, or repulsive? What if you wince at the sight of him, or cower when he tries to touch you or make you touch him?

He’s so scared, so when you run your hands along his arms and tell him he’s handsome, he’s staring at you with wide eyes. He’s simultaneously hateful and in love with the vulnerability you make him feel, so please, please compliment him during sex.

He needs the validation that you like him, that he’s making you feel good, and while he’ll never actually say it aloud, your words turn him on more than you know. Just hearing his name roll off your tongue has his eyes rolling backwards, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch you, to feel your soft skin. He loves when you tell him sweet things about his body; tell him he’s attractive, that you love how strong he is, that you love how muscular his arms are.

Tell him his eyes are pretty, that you love tunneling your fingers through his hair while he fucks you with his tongue, that you love the way his fingers stretch you out and get you seeing stars.

Compliment the things that he does in bed; tell him that you love how he growls and bites at your neck with those sharp teeth of his, that you love when he manhandles you and grunts into your ear as he rolls his hips into yours.

And of course, tell him how he makes you feel – he’ll groan your name and his hips will stutter if you say his cock feels so – so good Gyutaro, mm please! Need more, need more of you –

Tell him that he feels so good inside of you, that he’s going to make you come because it’s all too much, and you’ll see him physically freeze up, his eyes wide and a bit of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth because god, are you talking about him?

Moan his name and make a show of writhing around underneath him, arching your back and gasping out that he’s so big! T’s too much Gyu, gonna make me come!

Tell him anything and everything that comes to your mind, the more depraved the better. He likes to hear you become reduced to incoherent whimpers because of him, and with each praise that slips past your lips, Gyutaro feels his confidence slowly rise until he’s fucking into you with reckless abandon.

He’ll be bearing his teeth and whispering the filthiest things into your ear, the confidence boosting his system like nothing else. He’s calling you his, possessive petnames right and left as he practically abuses your cunt with his cock, pounding into you with such fervor that it’s almost like he’s trying to mold your pussy into the shape of his cock.

He’s demanding you tell him how he feels; growls of tell me what you want me to do to you filling the space between you, the panting breaths and moans rushing into the empty air. He’s telling you to take it, f-fuck, so damn tight, do I make you this tight, huh?

He wants you to mindlessly agree, to clutch onto his body and squeeze around him, milking him for absolutely everything he can give to you until you’re spasming around his cock, coming all over him and whimpering underneath him, your pretty eyes staring up at him with tears beading in your lashes from the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving to you.

And if you were to worship any part of his body?

He’s not sure what you’re doing at first – why are you sinking to your knees and moving so slowly in front of him? You’re taking your time with his cock, letting your eyes gaze over every single inch of him, the attention making his neck flush and embarrassing him. And yet, he doesn’t stop you – because when you whisper out that he’s so pretty, I love your cock Gyutaro, he nearly malfunctions, his nails digging into his palms as his hips involuntarily jerk, his cock bobbing slightly with the motion.

He wants you to kiss every inch of him, to suckle on his tip and let your tongue dip into his hypersensitive slit, the sensation making him gasp sharply and his eyes close tightly.

He wants you to gently fondle his balls, to whisper against his skin in between licks against his shaft that you wanna taste you, can I please taste you Gyu? Wanna make you come, you look so pretty when you do…

He’ll let you do anything you damn well please when you’ve got him like this – his eyes are watching your every move, his breath hitched, his heart fluttering in his chest as his orgasm comes much too soon, the emotional weight of your words and adoring actions making him desperate to give you the cum you claim you need.

He just really, really likes when you give him positive attention in the bedroom, so please narrate everything you’re feeling. He wants to know every possible detail, and he’ll strive to keep touching and pleasing you until you’re screaming his name and a jumbled, slurred series of yes and please and I love you. 

Breast Fixation

Gyutaro, to put it lightly, develops a sort of fascination with your chest. He has no sexual experience with women, and consequently has neither felt nor seen a living, naked woman’s breasts before.

Of course, he’s been curious; victims he’s in the middle of devouring who’s clothing has slipped down in the process of his meal, where their tits are hanging out of the fabric, looking soft and supple and perfect to touch. He’ll reach out and halfheartedly squeeze, but the dead flesh isn’t the same as a living, breathing woman’s – besides, his hunger is too strong for him to really process how soft, pliable, and squishy it is.

And so, once he has you, someone to fantasize about and imagine naked (frequently), Gyutaro is suddenly very interested in seeing what you look like shirtless. He’s always paid close attention to the way your chest looks in your kimonos; the fabric tightening through there, as if your breasts were practically begging to be freed, exposed to the world and awaiting eyes like his.

He’s always noticed the way your top exposes the line of your cleavage when you bend down to pick something up, your tits pressed together by your arms while he gets a front row seat that leaves his pants feeling tight and his throat dry.

Before he steals you away, frequent nights are spent with the image of you straddling his lap playing through his mind. He’ll imagine the way you’d shimmy out of your top, exposing your breasts to his greedy eyes, the soft flesh sitting only a few tantalizing inches away from his face.

He’d focus in on your nipples, imagining the way they’d slowly pebble from the cold air, growing tight and taut while he’s left to drool, his fingers begging to reach out and pinch, twist, and pull. He’ll imagine the way you’d look down at him with a soft smile, cupping his cheeks and asking in that soft, breathy whisper of yours if he’d touch them please Gyutaro, I want you to play with me…

He wouldn’t need to be told twice, his hands immediately reaching up to cautiously grope and squeeze.

He’s nervous at first, his touches hesitant, but as he wraps a hand around your left breast and squeezes lightly, the sigh you make in response has him gulping and squeezing harder, his other hand following suit until he’s massaging and groping at your tits like they’re his personal stress balls.

He’s painfully hard below you, his cock desperate for stimulation, but as you push his head closer to your breasts he nearly loses his mind; he’s quick to envelope a nipple into his mouth, closing his eyes while he sucks and licks at the bud as you hum and praise him, little whispers of mmm, just like that baby going straight to his cock.

He twitches with every little keen you make, and this fantasy carries over into his sex life with you. Very, very early on you’ll notice that he’s always staring at your tits whenever you’re intimate with him.

When he’s bathing you, he’s staring and gulping, not doing well to hide the way he’s very clearly ogling.

When you’re changing, he’s quickly glancing away after you catch him stealing looks at you, his cheeks pink as he holds his hands over the tent slowly forming in his pants.

And once you start fucking?

Well, you’ve noticed his fascination, and you’ll capitalize on it. Grab his cock and trace your nipples with the tip, and just watch the way he shivers, his eyes unable to look away while he whispers a gravelly fuck under his voice.

Play with your tits as you wait for him to undress, pouting up at him and begging him to hurry up, to come fuck you please, you’re too horny to wait.

Push your breasts together and ask him to fuck them, telling him it’ll feel so good, and how you want him to leave his cum all over the soft skin.

Purposefully bounce more than you actually need when he fucks you while you’re on your back, so that the fat jiggles even more and watch the way his eyes widen, his pupils dilating as he fucks into you with new fervor.

Grope and squeeze at them as he hovers over you in missionary, and you’ll feel the way his thrusts grow faster, harder, more desperate, his eyes trained on the way you work at the soft, supple flesh.

The root of his love for your breasts really comes from just how soft they are; he’s not used to anything as welcoming or comforting as your chest, and when you let him rest his head there, fall asleep behind you with a hand cupping one, letting him idly suckle at a nipple as you card your fingers through his hair, how can Gyutaro not grow to love them?

And love them he will – the copious amounts of love marks, bruises and hickeys littering the sensitive skin will make his obsession more than obvious, as will the way he essentially creams his pants the first time his fingers brush against them.

The large stain against the fabric and the slack-jawed, red-faced expression he gives you will have you more than aware that just a simple flash of your tits will leave Gyutaro puddy in your hands, willing to do anything for you.

Hand Holding

It’s not really a kink, but as your sexual relationship with Gyutaro progresses, you’ll find that more often than not he manages to snake his hand into yours. When he’s fucking you in missionary, hips smacking against you fast and hard, he’s holding your hands above your head, gritting his teeth and whining in your ear because you’re too – too fucking tight, shit, ‘m gonna come, you want that? You want my cum in you?

He’ll start off with his hand wrapped around your wrist, but as the sex continues and he gets closer to his orgasm, he’ll switch to interlacing his fingers with yours, pressing your hand hard against the mattress, the tendons in his hands and forearms flexing as his abs and balls clench up, warm cum flooding your cunt and leaving him gasping your name.

When he’s got you bent over, pretty ass on display as he stuffs you full with his cock, he’ll lean over you, a large hand covering one of yours, dwarfing yours and overwhelming you even more, his body literally covering every inch of yours.

Even when perched on top of him, grinding against him and biting your lip because it feel so very good, he’ll alternate between cupping the globes of your ass and catching your hand, clutching it in his hand as he tries to keep his grounding and not come too quickly.

Frankly, it’s almost unconscious – he doesn’t actively realize it’s happening until you point it out to him, in which case he’ll grow defensive, telling you that you’re wrong and mistaken, embarrassed to admit that he naturally does something so human, so weak and gentle.

But really, it’s just another way to extend the intimacy with you – you’re so pretty and sweet and so very lovely, and though he’s kidnapped you and forced you into some twisted form of a relationship with him, there’s something about the moments where he’s inside of you that leaves him feeling fuzzy, warm, wanted. And perhaps it’s the centuries of neglect and self-hatred that lead him to desperately chase that feeling of security and acceptance, or perhaps it’s just natural instinct left over from his human days.

Regardless, Gyutaro will almost exclusively only ever orgasm if your hand is somehow touching his – he needs that intimacy to let himself finish, emptying himself inside of you while clutching onto you, keeping you there and steady and still, stopping you from squirming away or escaping when he’s trying to give you his cum, gifting you with the most intimate, personal thing he could. And when he’s coming, he’s squeezing at your hand, hard.

The pleasure is just so overwhelming, and he needs something to grasp onto, something to keep him grounded and keep him from rutting into you and humping you into overstimulation, his cries and warbled moans sounding pitiful. He doesn’t mean to crush your hand, but sometimes he’ll hold so tightly that you wind up with big finger-shaped bruises across your palms and the back of your hands, the sight making Gyutaro ashamed because he hadn’t meant to hurt you, but also pleased because now he’s marked you.

There’ll be a constant reminder of him every time you look down at your hands, every time you do basic tasks or touch things. It's a thought that makes him weirdly smug, and so while Gyutaro will often try to deny your accusations of him always holding your hand during sex, but he knows it’s true.

(But really, you should be grateful it’s just your hand – at least it’s not your throat, where he’s much likelier to lose control.)

But even outside of when he orgasms, Gyutaro really, really likes to hold your hands. His favorite time to consciously do it is when he’s got you perched in his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder while you lean back against his chest.

He’ll want you fully nude so that he’s free to explore and roam your body with his hands, occasionally pinching at your stomach or groping at your breast. He wants you sat on his cock, the hard length nestled inside of you while you both simply bask in each other’s presence, him turning to bury his nose against your neck and deeply inhaling, his cock twitching inside of you.

Gyutaro grows a penchant for cockwarming with you as time goes by, because while he doesn’t always want to fuck you (though it’s not too terribly difficult to persuade him – just say please and he’s putty in your hands, so frantic to get his cock out that he’s ripping at the bandages of his pants) there’s something about the intimacy of being inside you but just cuddling you or holding you that satisfies his clinginess.

Plus, this way he can indulge in the feeling of your cunt in a non-sexual way – you’re just so warm and inviting, taking his breath away every time without fail, the sensation so lovely and foreign to him that he wants to spend every possible moment inside of you, even if he’s not fucking you stupid. And the whole time he's lodged inside you like this, his fingers are wrapped around yours, marveling at the size different and tracing the lines and patterns on your hand.

They’re just so much softer and better than his – so innocent and not capable of so much death and destruction as his. You’re just so cute, in a way that makes him crazy, and he’d be stupid to not take advantage of having someone like you to touch and taste and share his best.

And Gyutaro is many things, but stupid is not one of them.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Cock Worship

Although Gyutaro isn’t an inherently selfish lover, he can’t deny that having you fawn over him gets him hot under the collar, his pants growing uncomfortably tight and his mouth feeling dry. There’s just something about the idea of you worshipping him that gets him equal parts mortified and horribly aroused.

To have all of your attention on him in a non-sexual context steals his breath away, making him struggle to seem interesting and cool and attractive, even if he knows he isn’t. And so, in a sexual context this is only amplified – he wants you to like him, to find his body and him generally attractive, and to have you blatantly doing that during sex would make his head spin, embarrassment eating him alive even as he enjoys every second of it.

And to have you worship any part of his body is wonderful, but to have you worship between his legs?

Well, his cock’s not especially pretty, and he knows it – it’s long, long enough that it’s right on the border between hurting and pleasurable when he sinks inside all the way to the hilt. It’s sensitive, always leaking precum so it’s sticky and wet and glistening, with a set of heavy, swollen balls sprinkled with black hairs hung right below.

It’s intimidating and will leave you a bit nervous of how he’ll possibly fit inside of you, but Gyutaro’s eyes roll to the back of his head when he sees and feels your fingers wrap around him, pumping and flicking your wrist at the tip, the sensation of you jerking him off making his hips buck up into the air.

Having you give him long, slow, lazy pumps of your fist while you list off all the reasons you love his cock in between sloppy, wet kisses would have Gyutaro coming in mere minutes, the attention and praise going directly between his legs.

When you’re on your knees in front of him, make him shudder and flush by gripping him, making a show of licking from the base to the tip, suckling on the swollen, red tip and flicking your tongue against his slit, dipping in slightly and feeling the way he throbs in your mouth.

Move down to fondle and suck at his balls – if you’re able to fit a whole one in your mouth, you’ll hear a strangled s-stop, stop stop stop ‘m gonna come too fast, the pleasure literally too much for him to handle.

Give him the erotic sight of you tracing the outline of your lips with his tip, smearing precum all over them so that they’re glistening with a clear, off-white sheen. Rub the outside of your cheek against his length while you stare up at him, licking your lips and smiling, and you’ll literally see his face turning red, his sharp teeth biting at his lip and drawing blood because fuck, you’re so sexy and provocative and having you say that you love his cock is making his heart flutter.

And when he’s inside you, thrusting in and out and making you clench and tighten up, purposefully flex the muscles, making everything tighter and more intense, telling him that he deserves the tightest you can offer, and feel the way he immediately busts inside of you, the groan that forces its way past his lips sounding pained and desperate and pathetic.

 Which brings us to another major facet of his enjoyment of cock worship – please worship his cum. It’s a bit runny and thin, shooting out of him in long spurts, always wickedly warm and getting absolutely everywhere. Let him come inside you – whine out a  please give it to me Gyutaro, need you to come for me, please please want your cum!

He’s stuffing you full every time he fucks you, those yellow eyes of his eagerly watching it ooze out of you after he’s pulled out. When you’re sucking and licking at him, let him push your head as far down as you can go, sending rope after rope down your throat, his nails digging into your scalp as he gives a few sad last spurts, only a drop or so managing to hit your tongue.

Let him pull out of your mouth and give himself a few good tugs, cum splattering all over your face while he groans your name and a slurred take it. Lick it off your lips and look up at him with cum all over your cheeks and chin, and you’ll see the way he snarls and throws you onto the makeshift bed he shares with you, immediately ripping your thighs apart and diving into you like a man starved, the wet noises of his tongue diving between your folds absolutely depraved.  

You’re just so, so very wonderful when you’re worshipping him, so please do – one the bright side, it’s the absolute fastest way to get him to come, just as long as you sound like you really mean it.

Spitting

This kink is one that takes both you and Gyutaro by surprise. It happens very suddenly, and it takes a moment for both of you to process exactly what’s happened, Gyutaro’s spit sitting against your tongue and tasting like him.

It’s a manifestation of his possessiveness over you – you’re his. His little human, his lovely woman, his pretty cunt to touch and fuck and bury himself inside of for hours on end. And so, when he’s got you folded into a mating press, strong arms keeping your thighs pinned to your chest with absolutely no wiggle room, your face all screwed up in pleasure and your occasional gasps of his name, how can Gyutaro not want to mark you as his?

You’ll find that he often uses those possessive nicknames for you in the bedroom too, always going on and on about how you’re his girl, his cunt, his love.

And really, spitting in your mouth and on you is just a natural progression of this sentiment. He starts off with spitting onto your breasts – a glob of saliva landing on a sensitive nipple, making everything slick as he pinches and toys with the area, hearing you keen above him.

Then it’ll transition to him spitting onto your collarbone, rubbing the wetness over the bone, leaning down to suck dark hickeys against your skin, getting the area even more sticky with his saliva.

He’ll move on to spitting directly onto your cunt after that, spreading your pretty folds and letting the spit land right over your quivering hole, loving the way you jerk slightly at the weird sensation. It makes it easier when he fingers you, just that extra layer of wetness making his fingers glide in and out of you, pulling moans and whines from your lips.

He’ll spit at your asshole when he’s got you bent over, thumb rubbing against the hole and only slightly dipping in, enjoying the way you yelp and get all tense.

It’s only after he’s grown comfortable with spitting all over your body that he finally ends up seeing your open mouth under him as he fucks you with fast, harsh thrusts, hovering above you and staring down at you without blinking. He’ll spit directly onto your tongue, staring with panting breaths, before telling you in that familiar strained voice to swallow, his eyes watching the way your throat bobs as you do what he says.

It’s hot, really – the kind of thing that makes his cock twitch and bob, the idea that you have his saliva inside of you making something in his gut sit pleasantly.

And if you were to spit in his mouth, Gyutaro would actually fucking whimper. He wants you to be possessive over him, to want him all to yourself, to think of him as yours – and if you were to be riding him, hips clapping against his as you milk him for everything he’s worth, Gyutaro would gladly open his mouth wide, waiting with baited breath and shut eyes to feel your warm spit against his tongue. He’ll swallow for you, even opening his mouth again in case you’re feeling generous and want to give him more.

He just thinks it’s hot, and he’d be more than willing to bring spitting into your non-sexual lives too – it’s just so intimate and meaningful, don’t you agree?

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Gyutaro is a massive fan of touching you.

There’s quite literally nothing about your body or yourself that could ever turn him off; he thinks every inch of you is exquisite, no matter what your personal qualms may be. And because he thinks of you as something so wonderful and sweet and his, he finds everything that your body does equally as arousing as your pretty face.

 And so, while he’s never given it much thought, the moment he smells blood in the air around you, he’s immediately fighting off both his appetite and the intense fear coursing through him because why the fuck are you bleeding?

He’s not sure what’s going on initially, until he follows the blood source and finds it to be between your trembling legs. You’re scared, understandably, at why he’s so suddenly yanking your legs apart, eyes boring right into your crotch, but when he starts ripping at the cloth covering you, there’s not much you can do.

And so, once you explain what’s going on after his frantic why are you bleeding is asked in a panicked voice, suddenly Gyutaro is stiffening up, his thoughts running wild. He’d always been just slightly curious – you smell so sweet, and while there’s no part of him that desires to eat you, there’s something about the way your blood smells, the way you smell…

He quickly learns that having sex with you while you’re on your period is his absolute favorite. You’re so sensitive and pliable, your face screwing up at even the slightest presses of his fingers against your clit, your pussy always wet with blood, easy to slip his fingers in and out of.

He loves it, and the way your smell grows even more pronounced during this time has his head spinning, and fuck the taste –

He thinks he’s lost his mind the first time his lips touch your pussy with a smear of your blood across it, the sweet and metallic taste making his hips involuntarily jerk, his orgasm dangerously close already.

He’s always, always willing to pleasure you while you’re menstruating, to the point where he’s actively offering once he smells that familiar tinge of metal in the air, practically begging you with those half lidded eyes to let me make you feel good, yeah? I’ll be gentle, or at least I’ll try.

He’s careful with his motions at first, though it doesn’t last long – his fingers press into your thighs, nails dangerously close to piercing the skin, while his tongue laps at your cunt like a man starved.

Besides, aren’t orgasms healthy for women, especially during this time of the month? He’s heard so from the other Oirans (in hushed, embarrassed whispers), and what kind of a lover would he be if he didn’t attempt to take care of your every need? 

You winced, the cramps in your lower stomach making shifting your sitting position difficult. Your period had arrived very suddenly – it was just starting, and a quick swipe of your fingers below your panties had you sighing in frustration. The dank light of the lair was bright enough to show the red stain of your fingers as you retracted your hand, and with a dejected sloop of your shoulders you leaned back against the dirt wall. Eyes closed, you let your arms wrap around your stomach, resigned to the knowledge that you’ll bleed out through your clothes and onto the dirt ground below before you’d ever ask Gyutaro for sanitary supplies. 

Not that he’d say no – although, maybe that scared you more. 

Daki scrunched up her nose as she registered the smell, sending you a look. “What’s that stench?”

You bit your lip, quickly apologizing. “I’m sorry, it should be over in…” 

Unsure of how much Daki knew of menstruation, you left the question unanswered, instead wincing as another cramp rolled through. She grunted, her brow twitching as she crossed her arms. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

You glanced at her, begging with your eyes for her to leave it alone, and despite her scowl, she merely sighed and pivoted on her heel, jumping up to race out of the lair and into the night air far above. You sighed as well, closing your eyes and relaxing as much as you could. 

Your relaxation was cut short, however, as a loud bang and a voice wailed out, “Why is there blood? What’s going on?”

Gyutaro had arrived, and as you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of him rushing forward, grabbing a knee in each hand and spreading your legs with a surprising amount of force. 

“From here…” He muttered, head leaning down as his gaze focused on your clothed pussy, the kimono and underwear you’d been dressed in earlier that day already seeped through with blood. The red stained the fabric, sending Gyutaro into a further state of panic. 

Nails dug into his neck and chest as he stared wildly at you, leaning deeply into your personal space as he growled, “What happened?”

You shrank back, stuttering out, “I – I’m menstruating.”

Gyutaro blinked, his breath heavy with the panic still running through him. “What?”

“I’m menstruating. I’m okay, I’m – I’m not injured.” Your voice was weak, but Gyutaro didn’t seem to notice. 

“What is menstruation?” He asked, the scratching sound of his fingers against his neck still prominent in your ears. “Well?”

“It’s um, a sign that I’m fertile…” You whispered, fear squeezing at your heart. 

Gyutaro stared at you for a moment, before glancing down between your legs. “Are you in pain? Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, hoping he’d believe the lie. 

A moment passed, before he visibly gulped. He slowly lied down on his stomach, his hands frozen for a second before suddenly ripping at your clothing. The area surrounding your pussy was ripped off, exposing yourself to the cold air as you gasped and shivered. The sudden motions were over before you can blink, Gyutaro’s eyes trained on your bloodstained folds. 

He looked like a child in a candy store; dilated pupils, his breathing heavy, lips parted enough to allow drool to pool at the edges. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to not flinch when he was this close to you, especially as you saw his razor sharp teeth. 

You yelped when a finger reached out to very lightly brush over your pussy, his skin just barely grazing your own. You bit your lip. 

He repeated his ministration, adding a bit more pressure. A moan slipped past your lips as his finger passed over your clit, and immediately you clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as his gaze snaped back up to you. His face was bright red, you realized, the blush heavy over his cheeks as licked at his lips. With his gaze still locked on yours, he pressed back on that same spot, your clit oversensitive and making you lowly groan, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he began rubbing up and down the area. 

“G-gyutaro…” You whined out, tucking your lower lip under your teeth as you lightly squirmed. He watched with rapt attention. You seemed to be enjoying yourself – do you like being touched while you’re ‘menstruating’? As long as you weren’t injured with all this blood – this blood, that was such an intoxicating, delicious scent, the best thing he’s ever smelled. 

With a small, wobbly smile up at you, Gyutaro suddenly dove in, lips pressing against your folds as you gasped and jerked your hips, sending him in even deeper so that his nose brushed against your clit. You gasped his name, encouraging him to dart his tongue out, your blood immediately registered on his taste buds. His eyes blew wide, his hips jerking forward against the ground, the sudden wave of arousal because of your scent making his knees feel weak. He moaned around your skin, his tongue eagerly licking and getting to work against your sensitive skin. 

Groans and whimpers vibrated against you, his sounds rivaling your own as you moaned and reached a hand down to run through his hair. Gyutaro’s grip on your thighs tightened at the feeling, and when you tugged a bit at the roots, the growl that left his lips had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Gyu-“ You started, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensitivity of his tongue on you. It was too much – the pleasure too acute, but as a hand left the plush of your thighs and instead snaked down to press against your clit, you gasped. 

A strangled moan slipped past your lips as Gyutaro worked his finger in circles against your bundle of nerves, his tongue still licking and slurping against your folds. The combination of the stimulation had your head spinning, the sensation nearly too much, and as you whined out his name and dug your fingers even more harshly against his scalp, Gyutaro couldn’t help but moan in response. 

You tasted so fucking good – the best blood he’s ever feasted on. Sweet, yet savory, a taste entirely your own. His cock was achingly hard in his pants, pressing against the bandaged cloth as he ground his hips against the dirt floor of the lair, the pressure not nearly enough to relieve the terrible ache. He wanted more more more – more of you, more of your perfect little pussy, more of the sounds slipping past your lips, more of the taste of your blood. 

Soon you were shaking, thighs trembling as your orgasm crashed through you, your head throwing back as you cried out, slick and blood mixed together on Gyutaro’s tongue, chin and fingers. His thumb never stopped its motions, continuing the bliss as you slowly came down from your high, your clit nearly rubbed raw as the overstimulation began hitting you. 

Squirming, you tried to push his head away from your cunt, but Gyutaro’s growl had you stopping quickly. 

Pulling back slightly (only enough to speak), Gyutaro warned in a low voice out of breath, “Don’t move, stay still or I’ll make you come so much you cry.”

You only gulped and nodded, the feeling of his nails pressing into your thigh making you shiver, your hips jerking at the overwhelming sensation of Gyutaro’s ministrations. 

“Tastes so good, so so so good –“ Gyutaro moaned, the sound muffled against your skin as he gulped and sucked at your pussy, nearly making out with your delicate folds. You whined, squeezing your eyes shut tightly – it was too much. 

But for Gyutaro, it’d never be enough; after all, how could he let such a delicacy between your legs be taken for granted? Especially when you looked so pretty all panting and bloody once he’d fucked you with his tongue, fingers and cock more times than you could count.

[iwishf1wasreal]

NSFW F1 Driver Profiles: ✴ Max Verstappen ✴

smut ✴ 18+ readers only please

I. Flirt.

He’s not exactly known as a certified rizzster, but he does carry that Champion’s confidence and aura of success everywhere he goes. That usually works in his favour, but he would only approach if he were solidly in his own element. You’re a guest in the garage? Perfect. You’ve stumbled into the club where he’s having his birthday party in the VIP section? No problem, he’ll get you through the ropes. He’s much better at flirting once he’s in a relationship and you’ve established rapport and trust. He would rather be quiet than look stupid, which pretty much dissipates once you’re officially dating. Then, he’s more than glad to look like an idiot in front of you, especially if it will make you laugh.

II. Propositioning. 

He’s honest and extremely blunt. Straight up asks “do you want to have sex right now?” or “can we fuck when we get back to the hotel?” He purposefully enjoys saying it explicitly in front of someone, so it will instantly have your cheeks burning and your eyes furiously glaring at him. Max likes riling you up. He also likes that you smack or kick him in reaction. Then you yell at him about being a true menace to society or punctuate your whacks with You’re! So! Crude! And then he just has to make good on the accusation, doesn’t he? 

III. Libido.

It's pretty high. If you ended up fucking every time he felt like it, it might end up being two or three times a day. This isn’t to say that can’t or hasn’t been achieved, but it's not exactly practical when he has such a meticulously timed day, down to the approximate minute he must be asleep. But he’d roll his eyes if you ever told him that you considered him a sexual person. It’s not that he doesn’t think he is; it's just that the entire concept of sexual person seems redundant to him. Humans are sexual. Humans have the animal urge to procreate; therefore, it’s built into the human experience. It just seems like an unnecessary distinction to him. But he craves sex; he loves it and is constantly either thinking about it or talking about it. Despite this, he still has the audacity to turn to you and shape his mouth to say, “oh, so you.” with an evil smirk when he finds out what the word ‘nymphomaniac’ means. 

IV. Turn-Ons: tame & nasty.

Tame: Your exposed neck. String bikinis. A thong’s whale tail. When your Dutch isn’t half bad. Back massages. Treating you to nice things. Referring to his cats as your own. When you stand behind him whilst he’s sitting and run your hands down the planes of his body. That time he somehow was able to go to Oktoberfest, and you wore that traditional dress (he’s honestly never stopped thinking about your titties in it). Coming and straddling his lap when he calls you over. When you subconsciously reach for him in the middle of the night. Ignoring other men in favour of paying him attention. Calling him a world champion. Whenever you let him hang all over you. 

Nasty: Spanking. The way your ass ripples after getting spanked. Watching you undress while he remains fully clothed. Telling you what to do and filming it. Sundress and no panties. Your scent after sex. You taking control. Your hand around his throat. Nudes taken with his trophies. Cumming on your chest. Doing it in the dark with the big hotel windows open and city lights twinkling. Threesomes but only with another woman...for now. When you talk him through a handjob/blowjob and an orgasm (sometimes he likes it if you’re a little mean, too). When he does something embarrassing or awkward during sex and you just sweep his hair out of his eyes and laugh because it’s no big deal. 

V. Self-stimulation.

Porn is definitely an option for Max. He won’t be forthright with it, but he’s seen his fair share of the degrading, aggressive stuff. Obviously, you’d wring his neck if you found out that not only is a multi-millionaire too cheap to pay for his porn, but he’s freeriding on the most misogynist content he could find. Well, now that he’s a spoken-for man, he has a hard time keeping it up for women who aren’t you. It’s like he’s imprinted on you; he can only finish if he lets his memory/imagination or private folder on his phone take over. He’s not above a midnight call to you—really no regard for whatever you might be doing (and that’s kinda part of the fun)---all whiny and horny and begging you to at least stay on the line while he strokes off. 

VI. Foreplay.

He lowkey needs foreplay. His ego would never let him admit it, but sex is quite emotional for him. Max has never really excelled with one-night stands because he either finds himself not caring enough or caring too much. He felt like things changed between you once you started sleeping together–in the best way possible. Of course, there are occasions when you’re both just raring and pawing at each other as fast as you can. But generally, he likes to be warmed up and tended to, too. Dry humping is always a good time for him, and he likes watching you work your hips against him (and the patch of wetness that always transfers from your clothes to his) He’s also a big kisser. During sex, before, after, or without even thinking about sex, he wants to kiss you. Likes the heat of your breath, the soft feel of your tongue. Anywhere. Everywhere. 

VII. Rhythm.

To be honest, because of his headstrong tendencies and fast-paced thinking, it’s sort of become your job to set the rhythm. It’s not even that he wants to take you fast and hard; he just kind of…does. Even when he’s in a romantic headspace, he can just have a hard time slowing down and enjoying the moment. It’s not really a surprise to you. It’s the same way he is in every other part of his life. He doesn’t always realise that the habit of trying to speed through his least favourite parts of life has bled over into rushing through some of the good things too. No need to worry, though. The slow rock of your hips, the sweetness of your voice, and the patience in your hands is all he really needs. Maybe that’s why even thinking about sex with someone else is hard. You just get him. You take care of him. You give him exactly what he needs. 

VIII. How He Likes It.

Personally, he likes it deep. Especially because you are usually in more controlling positions. The eye contact, the kisses, the dirty talk. It’s just so much better. His favourite would be any variation on cowgirl (equally fond of front-facing and reverse–for titties and ass, respectively). He feels best in what some might call the chair position, where you’ll sit on his lap as he sits on the bed or a chair. In this position, he can hit your g-spot almost certainly while one of his hands works your clit. He’ll kiss down your shoulder, your cheek, your neck while your hands roam his thighs and your own body, reaching down to feel the two of you connecting. He’s somewhat willing to try new things but only for so long til he’s huffing and just whining for you to crawl on his lap and take over. 

IX. Location, location, location.

Craziest is probably in an alleyway behind a club. Really only is deemed the craziest because of how many close calls you had while trying to do it. You both know it would be a disaster if anyone found out; however… There are not usually many people wandering the streets at 3am and with so many restrictions with his fame and so much alcohol in your systems, it wasn’t that hard to convince you to give it a go. However, his favourite ‘place’ you’ve ever had sex is, for sure, the post-win blowjob he gets after every win. Obviously, some wins are more key than others, so you’ll do the best you can to create unique experiences for him each time. But honestly, he doesn’t really care. Just needs the warmth of your mouth and the shine of pride in your eyes when he’s finished. He also fantasises about Private Jet sex, even came close a few times when he still owned his. But the prophecy was not complete without you. 

X. Kink.

Pretty kinky. He’s down to try a lot but also has hard boundaries he has no issue expressing. He can be sweet and gentle and loving just as much as he can be rough and aggressive. He’s pretty good at catering to what you both feel at the moment. If you need him to go softer or just want to feel him better, nuzzling your face shyly into his neck with a soft whine of the request, he’s instantly adapting to what you want. It’s not that you’re “in charge”; he just really wants to please you. Or, if the mood strikes and you feel turned on by the clench in his jaw and the frustration of his voice, you’re more than willing to ask him to take it all out on you. And he can give you that too. The biggest fantasy fulfilled is probably after-race sex of any variety, even with his press officer banging incessantly on the locked door while you try and make use of the three whole minutes you have until his trainer comes back with the key. Despite how common it is, he’s not really into the Daddy or Mommy kink. He’d never outright say it, but he’s got enough mommy and daddy issues; he doesn’t need to confuse his psyche by bringing you into the mix, too. 

XI. Bedroom aids/Toys 

Feels pretty neutral about toys. Again, his common sense kind of takes over, and he gets why you need it. Does hold on to some hope that you don’t use it while he’s home and he’s readily available. Though if he is gaming all day and won’t tear himself way…Sometimes you’ll just set up the vibrator to rattle loudly against the headboard, so he knows what you’re doing. Almost always, he’ll get off the game and come play with you instead. He likes a lot of lube, if available. If he could squeeze some more ooey gooey stuff all over you just to make it nastier and wetter, he would. 

XII. Cum. 

He’s messy finisher. Not just on you but generally. He doesn’t care about messing up the bed or leaving too much evidence. To him, it’s sex; how are you supposed to control yourself during it? What, like people, can actually plan where they’ll cum? Perhaps it’s because he grew up relatively wealthy, or he’s just gotten used to people picking up after him. The number of times he’d told you, “just leave it, babe. The maids will get it.” while you scoff horrified at him. You make sure he realises his mistake, flinging whatever soiled garment at his face. 

XIII. Pleasure reciprocation. 

He’ll go down on you if you’re into it. He tends to think he’s probably a little bit better than he is, but he’s not bad. If anything, he’s got a passion and dedication for it. He likes the feeling of making you finish quickly or making you feel so good you can’t even keep your eyes open. He’s experienced but still clumsy. He knows his way around (mostly) but likes it better when you tell him what feels good or react to what he’s doing. He doesn’t have enough patience to keep the focus on you for /forever/ so he’s not one to spend hours down there but you get your fair share.  

XIV. Bonus.

Once you had sex in front of two of his friends who were touching themselves. It kinda just happened. You were out glamping for some EDM festival in Europe, pretending to have the humility of camping with all the five star amenities you could need. It was in the early hours of the morning after you’d been partying all night. One of them had complimented you, telling Max he was lucky to have a girlfriend like you. Then, Max kissed you. Never a huge fan of PDA, you always followed his lead on how much he wanted to show to the public. But then his hand was up yours skirt and when you broke away, he used his strength against you to pull you closer and kiss down your neck. Max was two fingers deep into you by the time you even remembered his friends were in the room. He told you to talk them through it, just like you did for him. But you couldn’t. First, the pads of his fingers had reached deep and found the spot that made it hard to thing, let alone talk. You weren’t much of an instructor, mumbling a few cues before popping the button on Max’s pants and pulling him free. He was breathing heavy and hard in your ear, moans muffled against your skin as you faced his friends. They’d fully thrown themselves into to pleasure, hands wrapped around their dicks and stroking in the same deseperate rhythm you were working with Max. As you neared an orgasm, you spread your legs, giving his friends a better view of how he filled you. It drove Max crazy, he moaned against your neck, a cocky laugh coming off the end of it. His friends finished before you–unable to keep up with the pace you and Max had set. Then, Max who helped you ride out your own after him, brain only malfunctioning a few times as you milked him into overstimulation. He made sure to show off how he’d finished inside you to his friends. Then the two of you just showered and went to bed like it never happened. 

[massivedazaisimp]

Some light white pfps of dazai and fyodor I did !!

(it was for my phone theme but i decided to post it here as well!)

(There's a dark hair version of their self which I decided to repost as well)

[moneyndior]

୧ ׅ𖥔you’ll never find nobody better than me.⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH; i have loser!luke x reader thoughts

tags/warnings: fem!reader, tooth rotting fluff, reader says something slightly suggestive twice at the end, small creepy comments mention, teasing!reader, whipped!luke, hints at aphrodite!reader, hints at reader being popular, separate blurbs/headcanons, LONG‼️

ೃauthor notes⁀➷: do not expect this to be coherent lmfao i just woke up from a 4 hour nap and had ideas. also shout out to artemis for telling me to write this ily oomf

—

—loser!Luke absolutely looks over to you before answering a question for your reassurance.

“can you help me, luke?” a younger hepaestus kid asked. you and luke finally had alone time—away from your friends and away from his siblings. a huff left your lips as you crossed your arms, a sassy expression sure, but that comes naturally to you.

luke opened his mouth, ready to agree. it was his calling, to keep up the golden child reputation he had at camp. but for some reason, he hesitated. luke’s eyes shifted toward yours, back to the kid, then back to you. like he was asking you if he could go—like all his free will was thrown out the window.

as much as you’d like to preach that you didn’t like it—that you’d much rather luke be his own person—you couldn’t. a snicker left your throat as you nodded. luke’s eyes shinned with appreciation, a small smile on his face as he turned his attention to the kid.

“yeah, sure. c’mon.” luke mumbled before kissing you on the cheek, following the kid as the 12 year old frantically explained the situation.

—loser!Luke who gets weak in the knees whenever you noticed him. even if you two just made eye contact.

“it’s getting to be painful to watch you looking at her, dude.” chris said from beside luke. they both watched as your sisters braided your hair. one put a flower in your hair, making luke’s heart race a little faster. the flower on your ear made you look even prettier. it’s no surprise every other guy at camp is fawning over you.

“will you shut up?” luke asked, his face scrunched up as he diverted his attention away from you for only a split second to look over to his friend. “it’s not that bad.”

all luke got in response was silence. he shifted his weight left to right, rolling his shoulders with his arms crossed. he waited very impatiently for chris to answer.

“did you come to your senses yet? is the realization hitting now?” his friend asked, eyebrows raised. he spoke with a chuckle and a mischievous look in his eyes. luke clenched his jaw as he blinked, looking away from him.

“look, she isn’t busy. she probably thinks you’re a creepy stalker.” chris added, rubbing salt onto the wound. maybe now realization would hit luke. and it did. hard.

he could be ruining his chances with you because he’s too much of a loser to muster up the courage to even say hi! goddamnit—what kind of demi-god is he?

chris nudged the curly haired boy before quickly pointing in your direction. luke followed his finger before your eyes locked with his.

he felt his knees slightly buckle, being the first out of the two of you to break eye contact. ‘shit,’ was the only think echoing in his mind. ‘way to go, luke. go on you for looking like the biggest loser in front of y/n. awesome.’ he thought, rubbing the back of his neck as he quickly fled the scene.

“he’s cute.” “who? luke? y’know—he’s like, totally in love with you, y/n.” “i know.”

—loser!Luke who takes the title of ‘y/n’s boyfriend.’ like seriously….he takes real pride in it.

“you’re y/n’s boyfriend, right?” damn fuckin’ right he is. forget luke castellan—that’s boring. y/n’s boyfriend has a much better ring to it. he’s yours before he’s human.

he felt a weird sense of pride wash over him whenever another camper asked him that. it doesn’t matter if he’s asked it once, twice, or even a thousand times. luke’ll always get a grin on his face as he nods.

getting a question like that just meant he gets to brag about how he’s dating the prettiest girl at camp—the prettiest girl to ever walk this planet.

“yeah. y’know it’s actually our anniversary soon and i was wondering-“ and there he goes, on another tangent about his plans to surprise you. because he only wants the best for you. blah, blah, blah. luke’s just so whipped it makes everyone sick.

percy literally fake gags anytime luke finishes a rant about how pretty you looked last night at the campfire and how gorgeous your eyes were then.

—loser!Luke who took one week and three days to finally talk to you.

he felt his sibling shove him in your direction when his back was turned, causing him to stumble toward you. luke’s head snapped back toward them, watching them laugh with a few other hermes kids.

“you alright?” your voice sounded sweet like honey to him. it wasn’t rough, it was possibly the smoothest, nicest voice he’d ever heard. and luke has spoken to a lot of people.

he tripped over his feet as he tried to straighten his back, rolling his shoulders before crossing his arms. luke cleared his throat, nodding. “yeah. ‘m alright.”

a giggle left your throat at his reaction. out of all the guys that you’ve flirted with—luke stuck out for some reason. maybe it was because he was genuinely flustered at the sight of you. that’s different than the usual corny pickup lines or the way-too-intimate complimenting.

“luke, right? it’s nice to finally put a face on a name.” you said, a chuckle in your voice as you smiled. your smile was so much brighter up close. luke was about to answer, until his words finally processed in his head.

you knew his name. you know who he was before this. did you hear good things about him? bad things? did you hear that he was the best swordsman here? did that impress you?

“uh, yeah. it’s nice to meet you too.” he managed to get out, his voice coming out a little quieter than he’d like.

“i love your hair, by the way.” you complimented him like it was nothing—like he wasn’t about to make it his whole personality. did you even know the hold you have on him?

“oh, thank you.” “you’re welcome.”

luke was ready to say something about your eyes, until your sibling cut him off.

“i have got to steal y/n. i am so sorry, luke!” “oh. that’s alright.”

it wasn’t alright, though. he wanted to keep talking to you—having your full attention on him was better than anything. luke just sighed before speaking to you once more, hoping to leave an impression.

“i’ll see you later, hopefully.”

“yeah, definitely.”

definitely. luke cannot wait for the time definitely comes around.

—loser!Luke who does anything and everything you ask of him.

“can you help me take off my shoes? my feet hurt!”

you whined, throwing yourself onto a log. luke furrowed his brows, more confused above all else. he snickered quietly as he seen you pout, sitting with a leg extended out toward him.

“can’t you do that yourself?” “can’t you do it f’me?”

luke shrugged, sarcastically rolling his eyes at your words. he kneeled down in front of you, beginning to untie the converse you had on.

“you look pretty like this, luke.”

he paused for a moment, his hands still gripping your shoe lace. luke’s lips tightened, his eyebrows twitching. he really didn’t know what to feel other than embarrassment.

“thank you.” he muttered before frantically trying to finish untying the shoe. luke quickly slipped it off, hearing you giggle at his expense.

“why’re you actin’ so shy? can i not compliment my boyfriend?” you teased further as he, once again, frantically tried to untie the other.

“stop it. ‘m tryna help you and this is how you reward me?” “i’ll reward you in a different way if you hurry.”

and goddamnit—hurry he did. even when you asked for him to carry you, he still did. luke is just some guy who’s madly in love with his girlfriend. even when he’s holding her shoes and carrying her bridal style to his cabin.

[ponderingmoonlight]

My man looks so fine in a suit

I want to sit on him

[lebdiesekunde]

me when Bills side profile:

[lycheeloving]

trying to get a tattoo but the yandere!batfam is in your way...

but maybe they're not that against it...?

[little-diable]

Profiling 101 – Professor Aaron Hotchner Masterlist

Coming to your local Tumblr next month, a new series y'all voted for. I promise there will be lots of smut (you know me), but please also show some love to the chapters that have no smut in them. A big thank you to @deathofpeaceofmind for brainstorming with me and for her ideas. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

Chapter 1 – A word of advice

Chapter 2 – The Porcelain Killer

Chapter 3 – Saturn swallowing his son

Chapter 4 – Your drunken foolishness

Chapter 5 – A complicated man

Chapter 6 – A secret to hold, a secret to share

Chapter 7 – Mine to own, mine to hold

Chapter 8 – A losing game

Chapter 9 – The Game is Won

This series is now complete

[melanchoise]

gilyoung and yoosung wanted to skip school and see kdj so hsy and yjh (by force) helped them :)))

bonus down below:

[mhyela]

I just wanted to share my progress in LADS because I finally have both of Xavier's green sun cards to LVL 70 and I also leveled up to LVL 70 today 😭 IT TOOK SO LONG MANN OMGG

My goal is to collect all of Xavier's cards 🥹 I HAVE ALL OF HIS 5-STAR AND 3-STAR CARDS BUT I HAVE TWO 4-STAR CARDS MISSING BECAUSE I AM SO UNLUCKY WITH THE "GALAXY EXPLORER" WISHING THING.

Because of this, I have spent money in this game BUT only on Aurum pass. I have been very lucky with this game (I actually wish I was this lucky in Genshin too 😭) and have only lost my pity twice, one to Zayne's "Drunken Intimacy" card and Rafayel's "Deep Sea Riches" card 🥹

I AM A XAVIER GURLIE THROUGH AND THROUGH 🥹 WHY? FOR THE SAKE OF ME NOT BEING BROKE AND ABLE TO LIVE IN MY HOUSE + EAT EVERYDAY, THAT'S WHY 🥹

Anywho's, share your progress in the comments!

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Keigo Takami General Profile

Yandere! Keigo Takami x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of non-con, implied masturbation, possessiveness, lots and lots of guilt, Stockholm Syndrome/you've kind of lost it by the end, mentions of eating/eating healthily, mentions of murder, Dabi makes an appearance and is directly responsible for your kidnapping, insinuation that Keigo's jerked it to some rather icky nasty stuff of yours, non-consensual photography, 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: 15K (genuinely how)

DARLING PROFILE:

Smart

If Keigo was pressed to describe his type, the very first thing that he would blurt out is intelligent. He wants a woman that can match him in terms of intellect. Someone who can follow his quick-paced jokes, his sarcasm, someone that keeps up with him, really.

He finds it wildly attractive when a woman is confident in her own knowledge, and ideally his darling would be knowledgeable in an area he knows next to nothing about.

He likes hearing them spiel on about something they’re passionate about – and he'll be listening, intently, with a hand under his chin and eyes glossed over because while their words are interesting, watching them is really what’s fully engaging him. There’s something wonderful about the way that they’re able to answer all the questions he prompts them with, never missing a beat and fully dissecting his question before giving their best thoughts back.

It’s just wonderful, and although he’d never divulge any sensitive information to them out of fear for their safety, there’s something euphoric about knowing that if he really wanted to, if he could, he thinks they would understand how he feels.

He thinks they could understand how careful he has to be, how he has to think out his every move and word dozens of times in advance, making sure everything is exactly how it should be.

And really, this helps Keigo feel less lonely – it’s less polarizing and solitary if he knows that his darling could support him, even if he won’t tell them anything.

Just the knowledge makes him giddy, his heart beating faster because it feels so very good to not be alone.

Witty

Similarly to their intelligence, Keigo needs a darling who’s able to dish out what he serves. A witty, silver-tongued darling would have him constantly on his toes, finding that speaking with them is entertaining and leaves him wanting more.

His darling isn’t boring, or a drag to speak to – their stories and commentary leave him on the edge of his seat, growing addicted to their voice and finding himself wanting more more more, eagerly asking all sorts of follow-up questions that he normally wouldn’t bother with.

And really, this is one of the first signs that his feelings for them have ventured beyond friendly – he’s never been this invested in someone before, never wanting to interact with them so badly, never wanting to be around them and hear their voice and watch their lips move to form syllables.

He finds his darling’s sense of humor to perfectly match his own, leaving him winded and often more flustered than he’d care to admit.

They’re just so cute – the knowing little look they send him when they crack a bad pun that leaves him chuckling, the way their face scrunches up when they make an accidentally dirty joke.

It’s endearing, really, and it only makes him fall for them harder, his desperation to see them growing stronger with every passing day because god, they’re just so perfect.

Civilian

While Keigo is capable of developing an obsession with a fellow hero, it’s unlikely.

Part of what draws him to his darling is their innocence – they don’t understand the realities of their society, how violent and horrible the darkest members are, how much crime and unrest fills the city streets right under their nose.

It’s the way his darling is able to be so happy and carefree in the face of such terror that draws Keigo in – they practically radiate positivity, talking about their own mundane life and managing to lull Keigo into a false reality that he, too is simply a civilian.

That he isn’t a double agent with a non-existent sense of self, that he isn’t bursting with stress and anxiety at any given time. It’s a nice reprieve, really, and it’s one that he slowly begins craving. The moments of peace and tranquility addict him, causing him to view his darling as a sort of stress-reliever, someone he can go to when things become too heavy, too dark, too much.

He wants to hear about everything happening in their lives – their crazy neighbors, annoying coworkers, the cat they saw crossing the street, the latest thing broken in their apartment. He wants to know about the mundane things, the things he’s never experienced and never will experience.

His darling is a sort of portal to a totally different world – what he could have had if he hadn’t been born into the family he was, if he hadn’t had inherited his quirk, if he hadn’t have done this or that.

His darling represents possibility, a side of Keigo that he desperately, desperately wishes he could embrace – which is why he slowly begins fantasizing about a future with his darling, always complete with a nice little house, a few children, a pretty ring on their finger, and complete domestic bliss.

It’s a dirty fantasy to him, really, something far off and dreamy, but with every interaction he has with his darling, it only stronger, and he only grows more desperate.

Empathetic

Keigo needs someone who is able to see past the layers of persona he puts on as Hawks and instead see him. Keigo Takami. He needs someone who’s able to listen to his words and comfort him, to see the frightened, abused boy he still is at heart.

The idea of a darling who’s able to understand him on such a deep, raw level leaves him feeling equal parts terrified and relieved, because he’s never really had someone there for him before.

The concept of a companion, of someone to rely on and love and cherish is such a foreign concept to him, and although he finds the idea enticing (having watched more than his fair share of rom-coms and trashy romance movies), Keigo doesn’t believe that he’ll ever get to experience it.

His life is too busy and hectic, and having a woman to hold and love and protect would add too much unnecessary strain. Except once he meets his darling and he feels seen for the first time, things begin changing. No longer does he find himself alone, internally grappling with his real identity and his hero identity, slowly losing himself with all the stress and obligations towards the commission.

No, he’s not alone because he has them – his darling, the one who’s smile and a simple brush of their hand leaves him breathless, feeling like a little kid with a sense of wonder and hopefulness and love that makes his heart pound in his chest.

A darling that’s able to incite these feelings in him is really the key to catching his attention in the first place – a cruel fate, really, considering his darlings is only trying to help him, only trying to help reassure him that he doesn’t have to be the ever strong, ever cool Hawks in front of everybody.

It’s a noble thought, really – but ultimately one that dooms his darling, forcing the blond to latch onto them with incredible strength and never, ever letting go.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

It takes quite a while for Keigo’s obsession to form. He’s never really had the time nor desire to get close enough to someone to even consider a relationship, and while he’s a had a one-night stand or two, that one night of intimacy is the closest he’s ever gotten to someone. He’s just not emotionally available, and for very good reason – he’s lived his entire adult life (and much of his youth) completely under the Commission’s control, his every desire, action, and thought controlled by others.

It’s sad and some part of him knows it, pitying himself even, but Keigo’s just not interested in developing any kind of romantic relationship with anyone. He doesn’t have time, and there’s a small part of him that questions if he’s even able to form that kind of a connection with someone. A childhood full of abuse, training and emotional neglect has fucked him up in more ways than one, and he’s genuinely unsure if he’s even capable of something like love, if he’d even be able to give someone a healthy relationship, his heart.

He swears off romance, finding it trivial and just not something for him, but things begin changing the longer he knows you, the longer he’s around you and spends time with you. His feelings are purely platonic at first – you’re funny, someone he finds himself actually getting along with and not dreading seeing, and it’s always a pleasure when he happens to run into you when he’s out on patrol or just wandering around the city in a rare moment of free time.

(And at this point, it genuinely is random – there’s no pre-planned meetings, no orchestrated attempts at just so happening to run into you, no attempt to follow you or know your location at all hours of the day. It’s just fate, really.)

He slowly warms up to you, deciding that he actually really likes you, and as the weeks turn into months, there’s this feeling that starts tugging at his heart. It’s this strange phenomenon where when he’s lost in thought, planning out his next moves in making sure he balances his double agent lifestyle, there’s this lingering thought of you.

He’ll gear up in his hero suit, shrugging the jacket on over his wings and checking himself over in the mirror, only to let his hand linger over his jacket lapel. He’d never noticed the small speck of blood on the tan material – had you? It was surely an enemy’s, some criminal that he’d roughed up a bit too badly before capturing, but it was still an unfortunate sight. His lips quirk down a bit as he thinks of whether you’d noticed it when you’d ran into him at the end of his patrol yesterday – you hadn’t mentioned anything, but maybe you were just being polite.

Something about the thought of you seeing him with blood on him leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

It’s not until a notification on his phone gets his pocket buzzing that he snaps out of his small reverie, blinking at his reflection and feeling a small bit of confusion settle over him. Why was he thinking of you? Surely it wasn’t your blood, and you hadn’t been present during any of his fights yesterday – why had the thought of you popped into his mind?

Keigo’s not sure, but he pushes aside the thought as he jumps off his balcony, the wind catching his wings and letting him soar towards the Hero Commission building.

He doesn’t give it much thought, but then it happens again the next day; he’s out on patrol, flying a good ten feet above the skyline of this particular neighborhood, when he sees a woman walking with a bouquet of flowers. They’re pretty, he supposes – roses mixed with some greenery and tulips, the kind of perfect bouquet you’d see in a rom-com or some cheesy movie.

He smiles a bit, seeing the way the woman was sighing down at them with a dreamy look on her face, and before he can stop himself there’s this flash in his mind of you with flowers in your arms. They’d be a different color, of course – your favorite color, and maybe even a different flower. Whatever one was your favorite, that’s what he’d get you.

He freezes as the last thought flits through his mind, his wings freezing too and causing him to falter a bit mid-air, desperately flapping them to stay afloat. What the hell?

He doesn’t like it, at first – the way you’re slowly seeping into every aspect of his thoughts, always some little twinge of you sitting at the sidelines, an idle thought of wow, you’d look great with that shirt on or a small question of would she like this?

It makes him uncomfortable, because he doesn’t know how to deal with this strange new development – sure, he's heard all about love and falling for someone, because while he may not look like it, he’s watched his fair share of chick flicks and raunchy romances.

But still, this is different – it’s different because it’s him, because it’s you. And it’s different because Keigo notices, as time passes, that none of those films or stories mention just how all-encompassing the feeling is, or how it makes him want to swing by your apartment every night, flying outside your window and letting those honey eyes scan the room to find your familiar figure.

They don’t mention anything about the desire that eats him up at night, how he seems to see you in everything around him – his pillow is soft, but he’s sure your stomach would be softer. His dining chair is comfortable, but having you sit in his lap would make it more comfortable.

The ratty shirt with the massive holes cut in the back is loose on him, but where it looks sloppy on him, you’d manage to look cute, he’s sure. It scares him, if he’s being honest, because he feels his control over himself slowly slipping through his fingers – he can’t stop himself from checking over you when he knows you’re at work, repeatedly flying through the area when he really doesn’t need to, just to make sure there’s no villainous activity.

(And always keeping an eye out for you when he knows your shift is over – he always gets too nervous and chickens out, but one of these days he swears he’s going to swoop down and pick you up, holding you in his arms as he flies around with you, chuckling in your ear and pulling you flush against his body under the guise of ‘safety’ – just please ignore the hardness you feel against your back or the labored breaths in your ear.)

It scares him that he can’t stop himself from suddenly paying much more attention to your every word, listening to you like you’re spouting holy epiphanies as you tell him about your coworkers or this new film you watched, biting his lip and nodding along, letting his eyes occasionally flick down to your mouth as quickly as he can, just so you won’t notice.

Thus starts a troubling pattern – Keigo starts slowly craving learning as much as he can about you, because with every thought that pops up into his head, he finds his knowledge about you is sorely lacking. He doesn’t know what your favorite flower is – he can’t get you that bouquet he was fantasizing of.

 He doesn’t know where your favorite take-out place is – he can’t surprise you with dinner on nights he can tell you’re tired. (He can tell because he’d followed you home from the air and noticed your slouched shoulders and the way you’d looked on the verge of tears when you’d stubbed your toe on the uneven sidewalk, but still.)

He doesn’t know what size shoe you wear – he can’t pick you up those new shoes he thought you’d like, or get you a new pair of those fuzzy, warm socks he noticed were looking a little ragged in your laundry bin.

 He doesn’t know what your ideal date is, so he can’t plan one with the knowledge that you’d be as happy as humanly possibly, all smiley and bashful and shy, all because you’re with Keigo himself.

It frustrates him, and he figures it wouldn’t hurt to look into you just a bit more – he’s got access to all kinds of information, security clearances associated with his status as both a hero, an agent of the Hero Commission, and an agent of the Meta Liberation Army making pretty much any piece of information he wants to get his hands on accessible. He’s getting access to your computer and phone, sifting through your search histories, contacts, even your bank accounts and government information.

(How else would he be able to start depositing occasional bits of money into your account, gifts he knows you won’t notice because you never check your transaction histories? You may not know about them, but he does, and it makes him feel good, important when he’s gifting you a hundred dollars here and there, making sure you have a cushion so that you can spoil yourself and indulge in all the things he knows you want to, but you don’t have the funds to do so.)

He’s designating a specific feather to slip into your purse or pocket, attached to your person so that he can track where you’re going, feeling the vibration against your back when you’re talking, when you’re shivering because you’re cold, when you’re standing or sitting or laying or moaning and gasping and shaking –

(He’ll always stiffen up when the feather he’d managed to slip into your jacket starts vibrating with the sound of your cries, his cheeks and neck feeling unbearably hot as he starts to sweat, wings twitching uncontrollably and rushing to the nearest bathroom, clutching the sink and grimacing because god, you’re moaning so damn much, you must be touching yourself and he’s not even there to see it, not able to watch you fall apart – maybe you’re even thinking of him, of how he’d fuck you nice and deep, pushing your knees up to your ears and groaning your name over and over while he fills you full of his cum – He’s in the bathroom for a suspiciously long time, and when he comes back with his pants just slightly askew, Dabi will cock a brow but not make a comment.)

He’s even going so far as to set up cameras in your apartment, having broken in one day when you weren’t home, making sure they’re placed in inanimate objects so you don’t find one and get scared.

(Though, he can’t deny that the image of you running to him in fear, crying and clutching onto him and telling him that someone’s stalking you has a very nice ring to it… Ultimately, though, he knows it’s best for you to not take on the stress and burden of knowing your every move is being watched, recorded, stored onto his phone and computer so that when he can’t sleep at night or is particularly stressed from all the lying and sneaking around, he’ll have something pretty and sweet to look at, something calming and relaxing, something that makes him sigh and his lips quirk up into a small smile as his thumb rubs the technology, imagining it was your cheek.)

It’s a slow slide into his obsessive tendencies, but once his feelings for you have formed in full, Keigo is a lost cause – and once you end up trapped with him, forced to depend on him for everything, this trait will only present itself more strongly, becoming harder and harder to ignore because he won’t bother hiding it anymore.

You’ll be scared and apprehensive every time he arrives with a glass of water right when you were beginning to feel thirsty, but really, you should know better. You’ll be unnerved when he presents a new bottle of shampoo to you right as you start itching to shower, but it’s inevitable.

Keigo knows you better than you know yourself, after all – and he just wants to keep you happy, keep you safe. He's just in love, and doesn’t he deserve someone to love?

Doesn’t he deserve to be happy too, to finally, finally have something all to himself, something that’s his?

Protective

Frankly, though Keigo hides it well, his protectiveness over you is unbearable. He’s a seasoned pro-hero who spends a good amount of time with villains, and as a result he’s more than aware of just how dark of a place the world really is. He has intimate knowledge of just how many horrible people are hiding in plain sight, all the violent and horrific crimes they commit, and just how often they manage to escape unscathed.

And of course, he also knows just how many innocent victims get wrapped up in their schemes, often resulting in injuries and trauma and even death. And while Keigo generally is disapproving of murder, he’s even more staunchly against the concept when it’s your death, when you’re the lifeless body that’s laying on the cold, hard cement, blood pooling around your head and your pretty eyes staring aimlessly above, your fingers cold and your neck bruised and oh god oh god –

The realization that the way he feels for you has wandered into romantic territory is the same moment that he realizes that you could very easily be one of the civilians he was just a hair too slow to save.

He’s helping an older woman crawl out of a pile of rubble left behind from a stand-off with a villain, part of the building having collapsed in on itself, and all of a sudden he sees something sticking out from below a large, cement cylinder – a foot, stained red at the ankle, and immediately he feels sick.

Evacuations aren’t always successful, and oh, look at that – the foot’s complexion is oddly familiar, and he swears he’s seen that nail polish on someone else’s fingers before. Bile actually rises up the back of his throat as he realizes that everything about this unfortunate soul reminds him of you, even down to the hair dotting her leg. It’s a hard pill to swallow as images of you bloody and bruised flash through his mind, each one making his chest tighter than the last.

It leaves his fists clenching and his jaw tight enough to make his teeth hurt, and it’s in that moment that his body almost seems to operate on autopilot – the images of you battered and too injured to be helped are still swirling through his mind as his feet leave the ground, his wings beating faster and faster with every second, his desperation to reach you strong enough to get his heart practically racing out of his chest.

The wind is whistling in his ears as he flies to your apartment, his muscles aching from the exertion, his lip caught between his teeth as he mentally chants that you’re okay, you’re okay, please God you have to be okay.

It’s only once he lands on your apartment balcony and sees you clumsily doing your dishes in the kitchen sink that relief floods his system, his entire body sagging against the railing as he finally lets out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding back.

You’re okay.

You’re alive and breathing, and as his eyes scan every exposed inch of your skin, he can’t find even a speck of blood. A hand comes up to rest over his heart, and Keigo swallows, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing with the weight of the motion.

He spends longer than he’d care to admit on your balcony that evening, those yellow eyes watching like a hawk as you move about in your tiny apartment, mentally assessing each and every movement. You’re pretty like this, he thinks – you’re entirely unaware that you’re being watched, but there’s something about seeing you be so natural and free that’s exhilarating, making his heart pound and his cheeks flush pink because this is what you’re really like when no one’s watching. It makes his chest ache to see it, his gloved fingers reaching out and pressing against the glass of your sliding door, the urge almost unbearable to be with you and hear what he’s sure is you singing along to some horrible song.

He’s idly wondering if you cook all your meals, and that’s why you have so many dishes – would you cook for him? He's a lousy chef and frankly a bit picky about his food, but he’d eat anything you make for him with a bright smile and trembling fingers, eagerly wolfing down the food and being nearly brought to tears because you made this for him.

He’s imagining the way you’d let him hold you at night, sharing a bed with you and your body pressed snugly beside his, an arm draped over your side and your soft breaths tickling the expanse of his chest. It’s a pleasant thought, but all too soon his phone is buzzing and he’s brought out of his reverie, glancing at the time and sucking in a sharp breath because it’s been an hour and a half of him just sitting here, gaping like an idiot at you.

Embarrassment creeps up his spine, but before he jumps off the balcony and heads to the Commission to report back, he spares a final glance over his shoulder at you, and the smallest of smiles sits on his lips, something warm blooming in his chest.

But from that moment onwards, Keigo slowly becomes more and more consumed by the idea of just how truly unprepared you are for any sort of villain encounter. You have a quirk, sure, but it’s minor and not especially useful, and it certainly wouldn’t help if you were to be cornered in some dark alleyway, or if you were to hear your front door’s lock being picked, or if you were to be caught in the crossfire of a villain robbing a bank.

And it’s small things that remind him of these facts – he'll see you trip over seemingly nothing, losing your footing and stumbling for just a moment, and immediately fear is sitting heavy in his gut because god, you’d be dead meat running from a villain. It’s endearing, of course, but it’s scary.

He hears you giggle sheepishly and rub the back of your neck as you admit to your friend over lunch that you’d forgot to lock your door when you left for groceries yesterday, his skin and feathers bristling and a small prick of anger bubbling inside him because are you asking to be the next tragedy covered on the news?

 He takes you out for dinner (that he hopes you’ll think of as a date, even if the restaurant is a simple diner that he knows you love) and sees a bandaid on your finger, his voice a touch lower than his previous joking tone as he asks if you’re okay, did you hurt yourself? Your response of how you’d accidentally caught the sharp edge of a razor in the shower makes his entire body tense, both at the idea of you in the shower and at the idea of your blood being drawn, of the way you’d probably hissed and bit your lip, the pain acute. You’ll notice the way he freezes up, this look on his face that you can’t quite describe, but soon he’ll be flashing you that familiar grin, taking a sip of his soda and telling you that unshaved is better, hasn’t anyone ever told you that?

(He likes the way you roll your eyes and pretend that you aren’t embarrassed by his comment – at least, he hopes that’s how you’re feeling, because the comment made him himself a little hot under the collar.)

Everything you do is a reminder to him that you’re weak, and it’s this constant mantra that moves Keigo to take his own measures to ensure your safety. He’ll offer to walk you home from work every day, waving off your concerns by telling you that his patrols end right around that time anyways so it’s no big deal.

(They don’t – they tend to end much earlier, but this way he can fly around for a bit, trail you from the air and keep his eyes trained only on you, all with the luxury of lying when you notice his presence about how his patrol areas happen to line up with the district you work in.)

He’ll tell you that he’s sure your cooking is good, but he knows what place has the absolute best lunches – and would you look at that, it’s not too far from your apartment! Maybe you’d be interested in getting lunch with him sometimes? He knows the owner pretty well because he’s always in there, maybe he could even get the both of you a loyal customer discount.

(He’d only started eating there because a late night of watching you through your apartment windows had led to his stomach growling too much to bear, and he’d strolled into the twenty-four-hour establishment absolutely ravenous for food, still glowing from having watched your sleeping face.)

He’s even making unsolicited, subtle remarks about your own habits designed to get you to change some of your more problematic traits – he’ll tell you that eating breakfast is actually very good for you, he’s heard that people who skip breakfast tend to have bowel problems.

(It’s delivered as a joke and you snort because he’d been a little graphic with a bad pun thrown in there, and as Keigo basks in the sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter, he hopes that you’ll remember the sentiment – you need to be eating properly, after all.)

He’s telling you that crime rates have been awfully high in your neighborhood lately – it’s recommended for all civilians to avoid speaking to anyone on the streets – just for safety purposes, of course.

(And because it dramatically reduces the number of men you interact with, something that makes both his protectiveness and possessiveness cool ever so slightly because that means one less man that you could meet and fall for and want and love-)

And why shouldn’t you believe everything that he says? He’s the number two hero, a man who’s saved more lives than you could imagine – how could he not be the authority on safety? Who are you to doubt anything he tells you, any advice he gives you?

And Keigo knows this – which is why he’ll start pushing further and further with time, trying to convince you to drop anything dangerous at all; did you know that more people cut themselves with knives than with all other cutting tools combined? You should really be careful, you know – besides, sometimes recipes are better with whole tomatoes!

(Really, he just wants to avoid seeing a knife in your hands – you’re not trustworthy with something so sharp, even if the sight of you in the kitchen slaving over the stove is strangely adorable, strangely right.)

Did you know that most animal attacks are from dogs? Maybe you shouldn’t consider getting that cute puppy you’d been gushing about – you just never know.

(Really, Keigo’s just worried that you’ll end up spending all your time and attention with said puppy, leaving him with only the most meager scraps that won’t be nearly enough to satisfy him, and while he’s serious about the dog attacks, he’s mostly just selfish. Plus, an animal companion would make slipping through your window late at night almost impossible.)

Did you know that the vast majority of murder victims are women? You should probably take him up on his offer to be your personal chaperone – consider it a favor for a friend, he’d told you.

(Though he’d been gritting his teeth as he said the word ‘friend’, even the feel of it on his tongue making something ugly twist in his gut. The way he feels for you certainly isn’t friendly – it can’t be, not when he’s imagining waking up with you every morning, the way your lips would taste, how you’d look on your knees staring up at him while you gag and choke and suck so hard your cheeks hollow out.)

And once you’ve been kidnapped, this trait is only furthered, his paranoia eating away at him because he knows you’ll be rebellious, that you’ll want to lash out and hurt yourself and hurt him, and just the thought leaves him buzzing with anxiety, stress eating away at him because he absolutely refuses to let you get injured in any way.

You have to stay pristine – his gorgeous, precious partner that he loves, the only woman who’s ever made him feel something so strong. You have to be okay – because if you aren’t, then he isn’t either, and the only thing more dangerous than a powerful, cunning man living a double life is a broken, apathetic man who wants everyone to know just how little life means now that his other half is gone.

Controlling

His controlling tendencies manifest as a result of both his extreme protectiveness, and as a sort of coping mechanism from the lack of control he has over his own life. He does love you – at least, he thinks this is love.

(If it’s not love, then Keigo doesn’t know what the fuck this could possibly be – what else would cause him to be thinking of you at all hours of the day, his body physically aching and yearning to be with you? What else could cause his breathing to hitch and become so uneven when you’re in his presence, his quirk nearly out of his control as his feathers ruffle and flutter and come down around you like some sort of cage?)

He loves you, sure, his obsession festering into something darker, deeper, more unmanageable and impossible to come back from, but there’s a part of him that begins exerting this control over you as a way to satisfy himself.

By dictating your life, it’s almost like he’s dictating his own – like he gets to choose what happens, like he has self-autonomy, like he isn’t just a puppet being used by others. It’s euphoric, cathartic, and this only furthers his dependence on you – not only do you make him feel something warm and gooey and suffocating in his chest, but you also make him feel calmer, more grounded, more whole.

But as lovely as it is for Keigo to finally get a grip on his own mental health, this has rather disastrous effects on you – even before he’s stolen you away, these controlling tendencies are present. Of course, they’re difficult to spot when Keigo is still just the handsome, flirty hero who seems to have a soft spot for little old you. You’re in a metaphorical honeymoon phase at that point, beyond flattered that someone like him has noticed someone like you.

And so, you don’t really notice the way that he tells you to stop hanging out with a particular friend that you keep rambling on about. They’re going through a hard time, you’re sure of it – it’s the only reason they’ve been so snappy and distant lately, and it’s only natural for you to bear your burdens to Keigo, telling him how they were rude to you last weekend, how they’ve been ignoring your calls, how you’re at a loss because what could possibly be happening?

And Keigo will grit his teeth, his smile tight and visibly strained as he clutches onto his coffee cup with white knuckles, eventually telling you wow, that really sucks, some friend. Maybe you should stop hanging out with them – obviously they aren’t as invested in the friendship as you are, sound like they’re not as good of a friend as you are, frankly.

It’s good advice, all things considered, but it’s presented in a way that flatters you, that makes you sound like you’re the reasonable, good friend and they’ve simply dropped the ball. And so, you’ll follow his advice – that friend isn’t contacted again, and Keigo personally sees to it that you’ve blocked them, having gone in and manually done it on your phone while you were fast asleep.

You won’t notice how he makes subtle comments about what you should order when you’re at a restaurant together – he’ll never make comments about your weight, but he’ll prompt you to eat something healthier, something more, something that’ll leave you happy but nourish you as well. The comments are again difficult to spot – when he opens up the menu, he’ll pipe up and tell you that they’ve got that salad you were talking about the other day – you know the one? Yeah, sounds good – do you want to split it? I think we should get some extra chicken on top, too.

(Once the salad arrives, of course, you’ll be eating the majority – Keigo will nibble at it, picking at it and making a bit show of always having his fork packed with the greens – and a lot of the chicken – but you’ll be the one shoveling food into your mouth, feeling full by the time Keigo’s eaten roughly ten bites.)

You won’t notice it much at all, really – which is why it’s such a shock to one day wake up in Keigo’s luxury, king-sized bed, the soft white sheets smelling like fresh laundry and the pretty red, silky pajamas he’d changed you into feeling foreign on your body.

But just like his more needy and clingy tendencies, Keigo’s controlling nature will start to show itself once he’s stolen you away. There’s no point in hiding how he feels now, is there? You’re aware that he’s in love with you (he tells you every fucking day, after all, with a hushed voice that sounds much too vulnerable for you to bear and a barrage of kisses along your jawline and neck), so what’s the point in dialing down some of the more questionable aspects of his infatuation?

He’d kidnapped you out of paranoia, and now that you’re with him constantly, he’s able to really, fully control your actions and the things you’re allowed to do. He’s not too dehumanizing with it, but there’s a lot of limits on things that you normally wouldn’t even think about – you’re allowed to watch TV, but only for an hour a day and only specific channels and programs he’s approved.

(Generally, the cutoff for what he considers ‘appropriate’ for you are things without graphic violence, nothing terribly sad, and nothing that would cause you tension or stress. So, all horror movies are off the table, all dramas, all action films, really only leaving the things he wouldn’t mind watching with you – romances, mostly, and the occasional film with much more erotica than he realized. His face will turn red as the actors moan and whisper hushed I love you’s, his yellow eyes nervously flicking over to you from his spot beside you, his fingers itching to reach out to you, the blanket covering you both suddenly feeling much too hot.)

You’re allowed to eat what you want, but with a few very strict guidelines – you can’t have anything over a certain amount of grams of sugar, nor are you allowed to consume anything that isn’t paired with a vegetable. He’s forcing you to eat protein, and if you don’t eat meat he’ll count out a specific number of nuts you must consume that day, just to make sure you’re getting proper nutrition.

He especially loves if you’ll let him feed the nuts to you, or any food, really – he likes to feel needed and helpful, and to have you looking at him with those pretty eyes, the fork pressed against your lips while you swallow and thank him for the food… It makes Keigo’s breathing get a bit heavy, his mouth watering because god, he wants to use that fork after you, would you think that’s weird?

He’s not taking away any of your basic privileges like dressing yourself or using the restroom alone, but Keigo has a way of making you feel pathetic without even trying to; there’s just something about the way he looks at you, all soft smiles and wide eyes, his palms always clammy and nervous, his touch always hesitant but eager.

He won’t explicitly create a schedule for your daily life under his thumb, but you’ll essentially be in one, anyways. He leaves for work in the mornings, parting from you with a very, very tonguey kiss, and while he’s gone on his patrol all day, you’ll cycle through reading a few of the (pre-approved) books he’d gifted you, practicing your art skills, practicing your musical skills, and staring out the fifteen-story window, the one-way, bulletproof glass not giving you even the option to crack it if you wanted to brave the fall.

You’ll be stagnant, really, something that Keigo doesn’t appreciate at all once he notices it happening, but it doesn’t change the fact that he absolutely can’t relinquish control – you’re his, and even if you’re unhappy, Keigo will be damned if he gives up caring for you and making your decisions for you. That’s love, isn’t it? He knows what’s best for you, so why can’t you see that? Why do you fight him and tell him he’s a monster, a horrible, horrible man?

He just wants to keep you safe and happy and loved, so why are you making it so fucking difficult?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

While Keigo isn’t too terribly possessive as far as yanderes go, he really only has so much self-control. Of course, he doesn’t like seeing other men around you, those already narrow eyes of his growing even sharper and smaller because he does not like this.

But what sets Keigo apart from others is that while he’s enraged, anxiety and anger prickling at his skin and causing goosebumps to litter his entire body, he’s smart. He’s good at reading people, at fully assessing situations and making split seconds analyses, and that’s exactly what he’ll do whenever he sees you in a situation where another man is showing interest.

He’ll examine the man’s face – is he smiling? Laughing? Serious? Frowning?

Smiling and laughing generally means one of two things – either the man hopes to become friends or acquaintances with you, or he’s flirting and he thinks it’s going very well. Keigo can’t decide which option he hates more.

A serious expression or a frown normally means that the man is trying to create a mysterious air – to embody hypermasculinity, to try and lure you in by looking the part of the strong, dominant man who’s only weakness is you. It makes Keigo cringe, his nose scrunching up in a wince as he thinks of how terribly stupid this man must be to think you’d fall for something like that – he obviously doesn’t know you or your intellect, at least not like Keigo does. Nobody knows you like Keigo does – not even yourself.

He’s looking at the man’s body language – if he’s leaning towards you, he probably has less than innocent intentions, either trying to intimidate you or get close to you to fulfill some sick, perverted urge.

(An urge that Keigo knows all too well – the urge to feel you, to touch you, to smell you, to have your skin against his. It’s an urge that he’s had to fight more times than he can count, stopping himself from scooping your into his arms and burying his face into the crook of your neck, his hands roaming every inch of your body because god, you smell good and you’re so fucking pretty and your voice is like heaven to his ears and you feel too damn good pressed against him like this and fuck you drive him absolutely insane.)

If the man has his hands in his pockets, that generally signals to Keigo that he’s not as confident at this as he’d like you to believe, showing the hero that the man is more than aware that you’re wildly out of his league, that really the man should have absolutely no business speaking with you.

Keigo’s noticing the distance between your body and the stranger’s – if it’s more than three feet, he’s able to take a small, minimally relieved sigh because at least the man isn’t likely to try something. But if he’s closer to you, dangerously close to being in your space and making you feel uncomfortable, immediately Keigo’s wings are flapping, the movements harsh and unconscious as his fists tighten and he grits his teeth because he’ll be damned if he lets anyone make you uncomfortable.

And he’s analyzing your body language, too, of course – if you like the interaction, if you’re pleased by the attention, if you’re scared, if you want to leave, even if you want to leave with the stranger himself. And while Keigo wishes he was wrong, the moments where you actually seem to be enjoying the flirting of a stranger make him bristle, a deep scowl settling on his face while insecurity and panic grip his heart because he has to stop this before it's too late – before you let yourself get wooed by another man before Keigo even gets the chance to fully earn your trust and adoration.

Seeing you approached by potential rivals for your love really brings out the worst side of Keigo – it brings out all the skills the Commission drilled into him, those eyes of his dissecting the other man like he’s merely a slab of meat, the blond finding every possible point of weakness in the man’s stature or attitude, just so Keigo can understand the full scope of what he’s competing with. Just so that Keigo can understand exactly how he can be better than this loser – how he can impress you and get you acting all bashful and dismissive of his witty flirting just like you should be.

Jealousy isn’t too pretty on Keigo, and while he won’t just blindly murder any man that steals your attention for even a moment.

(He’d lose his hero status very quickly, no matter how much he sometimes wants to send a feather clean through their neck, slicing their head off and feeling not a smidge of remorse because now he’ll finally stop running his mouth at you when you’ve clearly already been chosen to be Hawks’s woman – the number two’s sweet, important little partner that he absolutely cannot lose).

His patrol had felt incredibly long today – no large villain sightings, with only a few petty muggers making the time pass. Keigo sighs, wings flapping and wind whipping in his ears as he eagerly scans the streets below.

Normally, you’d be walking to the grocery store right around now – he’d noticed you were low on eggs, so it was only a matter of time before you braved the cold autumn air. Suspicion immediately pricks along Keigo’s spine, however, as he slowly flies along the path that you take to the store. You’re no where in sight – he doesn’t see your familiar jacket or notice the way the sunlight glistens off your hair, and immediately something uncomfortable is settling in his gut.

This wasn’t like you – you’d told him once that you prefer this time of day for your shopping because the store is the least crowded, and Keigo knows how you feel about interacting with strangers. And yet, you’re missing – something that makes him immediately pick up his speed, brows knitting together and his lower lip caught between his teeth. Eager eyes scan every sidewalk as he quickly makes his way to your apartment complex, every second that he doesn’t see you only furthering the feeling of dread slowly eating at him.

He’s near the point of whipping out his phone to call you and check the tracker he’d installed into your phone when he lets out an audible sigh of relief, having spotted your familiar form on the sidewalk below. You’re only a few blocks from your apartment at this point – and with a look of disgust, Keigo identifies the reason why.

There’s a man with you.

You’re standing and speaking with him, tucked away at the corner of the sidewalk, and immediately the feeling of panic is replaced by anger, his shoulders tensing up. As he swoops down and lands on the top of the building above you, he cranes his neck to get a better look at this man. Keigo’s never seen him before – you’ve never interacted with him in all the months he’s been watching you, leading him to believe that this man is a stranger.

Keigo taps his foot impatiently, trying to decide if this is good news or bad news. On the one hand, it’s always good news to know that you don’t have many men in your life – Keigo should be the only one, really, the only person, even, not just man.

But it also means that this stranger probably stopped you to strike up a conversation, which can only means two things – either the man is asking an innocent question, or he’s interested in you. Interested in you, as in wanting to date you, to kiss your pretty lips and hear you whisper those three words and bend you in half and make you scream and moan and gush-

Keigo grits his teeth, left eye twitching slightly at the mere thought of this man being brazen enough to approach you like this. And based off the way he keeps steadily stepping closer to you and you keep subtly shifting away from him, Keigo suddenly understands exactly what’s going on.

He hesitates for only a moment, a small pang of doubt registering in the back of his mind (wondering if this is how you look when you’re with Keigo himself, that annoying insecurity revolving around anything romantic and anything with you once again filling him with false worries), before he’s jumping from the rooftop, landing with a small grunt onto the sidewalk a few feet away from the two of you.

Clearing his throat, he walks with a bit more urgency than normal towards you, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning in.

What’re we talking about? Keigo asks, yellow eyes fixed on the man, any semblance of a smile gone from his face. His chest is puffed out ever so slightly, wings spread to make his physical presence as big as possible, to make him as intimidating as possible. Immediately you’re jumping, slightly embarrassed and slightly relieved at Keigo’s sudden presence. He feels you relax slightly against him and tries to ignore the way his throat goes dry and his pupils dilate – he’ll relive the memory of you feeling safe around him later tonight, but now’s not the time.

The man steps back immediately, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking at the hero sheepishly, guilt written all over his face. Keigo scoffs under his breath, examining the man’s face in closer detail. He’s somewhat attractive, and that same nagging voice comes back, idly wondering if you’d prefer brunettes like this man over blondes like Keigo, or if you preferred slightly taller men, because this stranger is easily a few inches taller than the hero. He frows, biting the inside of his cheek and willing the thoughts to go away – at least until he’s sorted this out.

Oh, Hawks, hey man, I didn’t – we’re not talkin’ about anything. Nice to meet you, miss. The man fumbles for his words, before quickly backpedaling and practically running the opposite direction, peeking over his shoulder every once in a while and wincing.

Keigo holds his ground, not moving, keeping those eyes locked on the man’s figure until he’s eventually a good block or two away. Only then does Keigo turn to you, his cheeks a little pink as he flashes you a smile. He’s still got his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and he gives you a small squeeze that he hopes isn’t too forward – he wouldn’t want you to get the idea that he’s after the same thing that stranger had been.

(Though really, isn’t he? He just wants all of you, not only your body – and he can take much better care of you, can’t he? Better than that gangly, sleazy man ever could, better than any other man ever could.)

He’s brought out of his small reverie by you profusely thanking him, telling him that the man had just approached you out of nowhere and you didn’t know how to leave the situation without it potentially escalating.

Keigo only smiles lazily, nodding at you and telling you not to worry, that he’s a pro hero, so it’s kind of my job, you know? Though for my favorite civilian, I don’t mind working overtime.

He winks at you after that, feeling only slightly anxious that you’ll find the action too arrogant, but you only blink owlishly at him, mumbling something about feeling guilty that it’s ‘overtime’. Keigo waves off your concerns, releasing your shoulder and trying not to show loss on his face.

You thank him again, smiling at him in a way that gets his knees very close to buckling, but he just clears his throat and nods, saluting you playfully and letting his wings flap, already a few feet in the air as he tells you to enjoy the rest of your night and to call him if any other creeps show up. You’re still smiling as he flies back over the roof of the building, but you don’t notice how he stops, peeking over the roof to see you make your way in the direction of the grocery store.

A small smile sits on his lips at the sight, smaller and more genuine than the smirk he’d been wearing moments ago.

Knew it, he thinks earnestly, already mentally predicting what you’ll pick up from the store. And as he hovers back into the air, cracking his neck and knuckles, he decides following you there couldn’t hurt – just in case any more men decide to mess with his woman. 

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Keigo’s obsession with you is overwhelming, terrifying, and pushes him to do a number of things that force his morals to be flung out the window of favor of keeping you safe, happy, his, but there’s still a few things that he can’t push himself to do, even with you in mind. One of these things is to steal you away.

 Kidnapping you is not something he wants to do – he may nurse a few beliefs about how you’ll eventually forgive him for being so obsessive and domineering over you, but Keigo isn’t stupid. He knows your image of him will never recover if he presses the chloroform-soaked rag up to your mouth and coos at you while you fall limp and into his arms.

He knows you’ll never truly forgive him if you wake up one morning in his apartment, breakfast in bed waiting beside you while he stares eagerly down at you, apologizing for having to be so extreme but trying desperately to convince you that he had no other choice, that he did it for you, that he did it to keep you safe.

He knows it won’t go over well, and Keigo already feels so unsure of how to properly court you and make you genuinely like him and not just Hawks that he doesn’t want to do something even slightly risky. He already knows that stalking you, breaking into your home at night to restock your refrigerator and lay beside you on your bed is crossing enough boundaries and grounds for you to be seriously afraid of him, but kidnapping you is a line he simply isn’t willing to cross.

At least, that’s how he initially feels – until something drastic happens, something that seriously threatens your safety and Keigo can’t just simply sit back and allow it to happen. And of course, it’s fucking Dabi – Keigo’s stomach drops when he hears you mention something about running into a man on your way over a cozy cup of coffee in a local café, the air warm and smelling of espresso.

He’d picked the café because he knew it wasn’t super busy – as much as his pride swells when civilians notice him and beg him for autographs and photos right in front of you, it also makes him nervous because the last thing he wants is to come off as cocky or arrogant or rude.

(Plus, the thought of making you jealous of his fans – especially the adoring women – gets his heart racing, his face and ears feeling hot because it makes him feel good that you’re being possessive over him, but he really doesn’t want you to worry. He’ll always be yours.)

But now he’s wishing it was full to the brim, voices chattering and making it difficult to hear the way you describe a man with so many piercings and a pretty serious skin condition came up to me, he knew my name! Keigo, why do you think he knew my name? Do you think I should be worried?

He’s stiff, every muscle in his body tense and his grip on the coffee cup in his hand so tight that it shatters, coffee and ceramic shards getting everywhere. He’s still staring at you, though, even as you gasp and stand up, running to grab some napkins and wipe up the still steaming coffee. There’s some on his hand but he doesn’t seem to care – to even notice, really, if the way he’s just staring and not even flinching is any indication.

Your brows furrow as you wipe the drink off of him, chest heaving slightly as you ask him if he’s okay, if it hurts, if he’s even listening to you. Keigo just swallows, still looking at you, before telling you with an unnervingly flat voice that it’s certainly weird, but I wouldn’t worry about it.

You don’t mention it again, instead trying to ignore the heavy atmosphere and the way he’s looking at you, all wide-eyed and not a single bit of emotion on his face. It’s scaring you, to be honest, and you’re quick to give him a small side hug and thank him for meeting you for coffee. Keigo mumbles something back as he watches you walk away, something prickling at the corners of his eyes that almost feel like tears as he imagines how Dabi could’ve possibly learned about you.

He’d been so fucking careful – always making sure to not let his phone ever directly point at your face or your address, never explicitly saying your full name in case he was being bugged, never even breathing any bit of information that the greedy bastard could get his hands on.

And yet, it’d all been for nothing – because now that Dabi knows about you, everything has changed. You’re in danger, because although Keigo believes that Dabi won’t immediately kill you, he can’t simply rely on his gut – you’re in danger. And although he’d promised himself he wouldn’t snatch you away, that he wouldn’t betray your trust and make you hate him, he doesn’t really have a choice now, does he?

And so, with a heavy heart and red, puffy eyes, Keigo slips into your apartment, the sleeping pills he’d mixed into your water sitting on your nightstand leaving you out like a light, even as he fabricates the crime scene. He’s shattering your window to mimic a home invader, tangling up your sheets and leaving dirty prints coming out your front door, your clothes ransacked and your television and computer destroyed.

It has to look real, after all – faking a death is difficult but he’s done it before, and as he soars away across town to his own apartment, with you clutched in his arms and your hair tickling his neck, Keigo can only whisper apologies against the crown of your head, squeezing his eyes closed and hoping that even in your unconscious state, you can feel how terribly, terribly sorry he is.

Of course, even though your kidnapping isn’t the idea situation for you or your captor, Keigo still tries to make the best of it. He doesn’t pretend to think that you’re happy with him – he expects the crying and screaming when you wake up the next morning, his expression carefully neutral as you accuse him of being a villain, a creep, even though it makes his chest ache in a way no injury ever has, his lips feeling numb because god, he can’t breath with how you look at him in disgust and hatred.

It’s horrible – but he grits his teeth and bares it, avoiding the pillows (lush and top-quality, of course, covered in sheets of your favorite color) you’re throwing at him, not saying anything until you’ve had your fill. And really, his explanation once you’d calmed down enough to listen to it isn’t nearly enough – he’s at a loss for words, really, looking at you with such honest eyes that it only makes you cry harder.

He’ll tell you that I need to keep you safe, and I – I’m selfish, so this is the only way. It’s lackluster and it’ll have you despising him, but as the days slowly pass, you’ll find yourself growing less and less enraged at him, instead growing more and more complacent about your new life.

Because really, Keigo absolutely fucking spoils you. He’s certainly not hurting financially, and he won’t bat an eye at buying anything and everything he thinks you could possibly want.

He’s getting takeout every night, ordering all your favorites (without having to ask you, of course, something that’d scared you at first, but there’s something about the way he eyes you as you eat it that makes you pause, his small, almost shy question of do you like it sounding rushed and nervous) and making sure to pick up snacks and goodies on his way home from almost every patrol. He loves to see you smile, and even in the beginning, when you’re still afraid of him and betrayed, the way your lips quirk up ever so slightly into the shadow of a smile when he hands you your favorite snack makes him gulp, something warm and overwhelming and hopeful bubbling up inside him.

He’s buying you pretty necklaces and jewelry that remind him of you, all the pieces startlingly within your tastes, his memory of the jewelry you used to wear so acute and strong that he knows your style even better than you do.

All of the clothing he buys for you (mostly comfortable clothing, lounging shirts and sweatpants and giant blanket ponchos) fits you perfectly, almost seeming to be tailored with the way they fit around your bust, hips, ass, shoulders, and thighs.

(He won’t buy you any formal clothing, however – he’s faked your death, and he can’t exactly take you out for a nice date now, can he? He wouldn’t mind doing a candle-lit dinner in his own apartment, maybe sprinkling a few rose petals over the table and cooking you something that he really, really needs you to like, but he knows you aren’t willing. You’d thrash and refuse, not eating his food and looking at him with those eyes, the ones that are hard and calloused and sting with pain. So, he instead purchases the pretty dresses with low tops and slits up the leg, storing them in his spare closet so that you never see them, so that you don’t feel forced into anything more than you don’t want. Kidnapping is enough – romantic dinners would be amazing, the kind of thing that Keigo thinks about with a small, sad smile on his face as he watches you sleep late at night, but certainly not a thing that could happen. Absolutely not – at least, not any time soon.)

He’s embracing each and ever artistic and creative passion you’ve ever had, buying you unfathomable amounts of supplies and instruments of the highest quality, waiting with baited breath to see if you like them, hoping with his hands clutched into fists at his side that you’ll smile at him, that you’ll look at him in anything other than hate – and perhaps, if he’s lucky enough, you’ll even thank him.

(Just the thought makes him shiver, a blush rising from his chest all the way up his neck because he can’t not immediately imagine the way you’d thank him – perhaps you’d give him a kiss, full of tongue and spit and moans, or maybe you’d even sink to your knees for him, telling him that you appreciate his thoughtfulness, his love, how he works so hard to keep me safe, won’t you let me thank you, Keigo? Please?)

It’s wishful thinking, of course, but Keigo tries to do everything humanly possible to keep you as happy as you can be given the situation. Of course, he’s still controlling, laying down rules that you’ll be too afraid to disobey, because although Keigo is soft with you and treats you like you’re made of glass, you’ve seen the televised fights, the way his knuckles are sometimes bruised after patrols, the way he snaps angrily into his phone when the Commission calls him with yet another assignment. He’s still dictating what you can eat, how much contact you get with the outside world, your limited sources of entertainment, anything and everything. But he tries his absolute hardest to respect you in every other way, if only to perhaps plant the seeds of you one day growing to tolerate him, of you one day even perhaps loving him.

And so, Keigo forces himself to do the hardest thing of all – not physically crowd you. He’s always wanted to be touchy with you, the years of not having anyone to hold or even give platonic physical affection causing him to be touch-starved, and so once you come into the picture?

Well, he’s only a man – he can’t help but imagine the way your hand would feel in his, fingers intertwined and your soft skin pressed against his own rougher hands.

He can’t help but imagine kissing you, feeling how soft and gentle your lips would be against his, how you taste, how you’d make little sighs and whines when he starts kissing you harder, deeper, letting even just the smallest sliver of his desperation for you shine through.

He can’t help but imagine pulling your body against his own, keeping every inch of you flush with him while you watch a movie together, his fingers toying absentmindedly with your hair, deep exhales sounding from behind you each time he leans in to catch a whiff of you.

He can’t not imagine the way you’d get all shy and bashful when the hand that’s been running up and down your sides suddenly dips lower, cupping at your ass while he lowly mumbles your name, telling you that he can’t hold back anymore, angel, can’t I have a taste?

He’s being good – he’s forcing all those urges and fantasies to the side, not putting you in a position where you feel forced into physical contact of any kind, sexual or otherwise. He’s respecting you, prioritizing you, even if it slowly destroys him. Having you right there, stuck with him, permanently bound to his side makes him want to grab onto you and never let go, to latch onto you like some sort of leech and take everything you have to offer and then some. It drives him fucking crazy, but he knows he’ll get nowhere by forcing anything onto you.

And so, he holds his tongue, forcing his hand to not reach out and touch, forcing himself to not say the compliment on the tip of his tongue that’ll likely make you more uncomfortable than flattered. He’s good, and eventually you’ll end up slowly coming to tolerate him. Sure, he’s kidnapped you and sure, you’re still understandably upset at him, but isn’t he right? You’d seen the man that approached you before Keigo stole you away – if he’d attacked you, what would you have done? You’d have hoped and prayed that Hawks would have shown up, that you’d been saved because you were too weak and incapable of doing it yourself.

So maybe he’s right – maybe you do need him, like he tells you late at night when he thinks you’re asleep. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, sounding more and more sure of himself as the night wears on and he repeats aloud that he’s keeping you safe, I’m keeping you safe, I know you don’t understand it now but someday you’ll realize that I only took you to keep you out of harm’s way.

And once you get past that barrier of hatred and animosity, it’s disturbingly easy to let Keigo take full control, to give into him in every possible way.

You’ll stop fighting his diet planning, you’ll gladly thank him for any book he gives you as entertainment, you’ll eagerly listen when he tells you about his patrol and how he encountered so many villains who’d done horrible things. And Keigo will notice this change in your attitude – it’s too early to tell and he’s always been too pessimistic to be hopeful, but you almost seem to be liking him. You’re starting to revert back to the woman he first became obsessed with – all smiles and laughter and snarky comments that left him choking on his drink.

And he can’t believe it – he has to pinch himself, staring at you in shock with a flushed face as you make some comment alluding to him being ‘too handsome for his own good’, the fork in his hand clattering down onto the plate. From there, it’s a steady trajectory up – you’ll start getting even more little knick-knacks, shiny things and expensive things that he leaves in pretty, bow-wrapped boxes for you, a card written in his best handwriting that says something along the lines of for my angel.

It’s cheesy and makes you laugh a bit, but Keigo keeps doing because god, please laugh like that again, say his name while you do it and maybe even reach out to touch his shoulder…

He jumps at the opportunity to further your changing opinion of him, determined to make you like him, determined to let him love you like he knows he can – like he’ll do anything to prove to you.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, getting Keigo upset with you is kind of difficult. He views you as his own personal slice of heaven, the only thing that he truly has. You’re the only thing that belongs to Keigo Takami, not Hawks, not the Commission, only him, and because of that he tends to idolize you.

You’re his first real romantic partner, his first real romantic experience, and the combination of that plus his intense, pitifully strong desire to please you makes it hard for him to stay angry at you for any significant period of time. And so, while he’s far from the ideal captor (too clingy, too controlling, too awed when he looks at you), Keigo will avoid punishing you at all costs.

He just doesn’t see the point – he doesn’t want you to hate him any more than you already do, and the thought of purposefully hurting you makes him feel physically ill. He hates seeing you in pain – it’s part of what drove him to steal you away, after all, the terror he felt at knowingly putting you in harm’s way. He’s protective and frankly anal about your health, and so to purposefully bruise your pretty skin or make you cry makes him angry enough to want to hit something, angry enough to literally writhe in his own rage.

And so, Keigo swears off any sort of physical altercations with you – he’s just too strong and you’re just too weak, and it would break him to know that he was the source of your pain and misery.

(He knows he is, already, but he can’t be the source of it physically, too, otherwise he might just shatter, feeling entirely numb and carrying out his missions like a robot, utterly unaffected by the world because he hurt you, and can he even call himself a decent hero, a decent man after that?)

However, while causing you physical harm is off the table, Keigo is realistic enough about your situation to know that punishing you entirely is something he can’t avoid. You will act out, he’s sure of it – he’d be concerned if you didn’t, really, and so he’s expecting you to lash out at him and try to hurt him. If he were you, he’d do it too.

But as much as he expects this behavior and wouldn’t fault you for it, Keigo knows that if he wants to make any progress, if he wants to give you even a chance at eventually growing complacent (it’s a selfish desire, really, but it’s the only route he can see to where you’ll be even remotely happy, or at least not fighting tooth and nail at all costs), he has to establish repercussions for when you’re throwing tantrums or acting poorly.

It feels condescending and Keigo hates it, but he decides that where physical punishments fail, he must rely on emotional ones. It’s manipulative and it makes Keigo feel dirty, disgusting, like a poor excuse for your so-called-protector, but it’s his only choice. He has to get you into shape, both for your sake and his. It’s the only choice, he swears.

You really hadn’t meant to stumble upon something you weren’t supposed to find, really. As a general rule, you don’t snoop through Keigo’s things – he’s a clean freak, first of all, the apartment he keeps you in minimalistic with everything in its correct spot. It’s classy and pretty, sure, but it’s boring, and can you really be blamed for wanting to explore after a few weeks cooped up in this penthouse?

Certainly not – which is how you find yourself tiptoeing into Keigo’s bedroom – he’d brought up the idea of sharing a bed multiple times only to be outright refused by you, and so he kept his things in this separate room. And it wasn’t explicitly off-limits, your captor never actually telling you that you couldn’t venture in. And so here you are, opening up the tall, wooden cabinet in the corner of the room and immediately sucking in a sharp breath at what you find.

You’d known Keigo had stalked you, the confession slipping from his lips early on into your captivity and the evidence difficult to deny.

(How else could he have known all your preferences before you ever voice them, knowing the way you like your morning drink, the products you use in the shower, hell, even the way you sleep – getting the pillows you like, pajamas similar to your own, even the type of sheet you prefer.)

You’d known, sure, but this – this is something else entirely. The cabinet’s housing a variety of items that send a chill down your spine because they’re yours.

An old bottle of perfume sits on the corner, the brand name smudged off from wear, and you bite your lip as you notice it’s still got just a bit left, though not nearly the amount you remember when it’d gone missing a few months ago. Your nose scrunches at the thought of him using your perfume, and bile rises in the back of your throat as you start imagining exactly how it’d been used, for what purpose and how often for that much to be gone.

There’s a few old lip balms sitting there, organized by flavor – cherry at the right, then melon, then mint, then peach and coconut. You don’t bother looking at them closely, too nervous to find signs of usage from someone other than you. (Which is good: the mint flavored Chapstick’s missing a chunk, with  what looks like teeth marks sunken into the material.)

There’s an old hairbrush you thought you’d left at a friend’s place, still a few tufts of hair left between the bristles, though something seems to be crusted against the handle, and you wince at the thought of what that could possibly be. You’re scared, really, your heart screaming at you to stop searching, begging you to not look deeper because you don’t want to know what else he’s stolen from you, but your mind urges you to keep going, some sort of sick urge to know exactly what he’s taken, why he’s taken it.

(Though, you think you already know – the way he leans in close to smell you when he thinks he’s being subtle is telling, as is the way he has you sort out your used period products into a separate waste container, telling you that it's because the pads he gives you are compostable. You’ve seen the way the bags linger, though, staying in his bathroom, blood sometimes sitting under his nails when he emerges, eyes dilated and licking his lips at you.)

But as soon as you spot the photographs, you crumble.

Of course you’d known he was stalking you, following your every move and watching you at your most vulnerable, but somehow this is worse – there’s dozens of them, stacked neatly in piles that you can’t even begin to understand. Leafing through them with shaking fingers, they only seem to get worse and worse, images of you laying on your couch, cooking, doing your makeup, changing into your bathrobe, sleeping, and oh god, there’s even one of you on your bed, legs spread and fingers thrusting and rubbing and oh god you’re going to be sick-

The photographs fall from your fingertips as you shakily take a few steps back, the sound of the front door opening and Keigo’s call of I’m home making panic swim in your veins. He’s quick to come find you, asking you in a voice that’s edging on concerned where you are, but when he steps into his bedroom and spots you against the far wall, hands covering your mouth and the wooden door open and askew, Keigo’s clenching his teeth, jaw working.

Oh, is all he has to say, and it snaps you out of your horror.

Oh? That’s it? That’s fucking it, Keigo? What – what is this? You’re sick, a sick freak! Why do you have my stuff? What’s wrong with you? You’re yelling, pushing yourself further against the wall, and he can only frown, irritation and worry eating away at him because god, hearing you so upset is physically hurting him but there’s nothing he can do.

You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s, uh… He trails off, mind racing and panicking as he tries to think of what to say, but you don’t let the silence sit for long.

There’s something wrong with you, you’re a fucking monster! You think you’re a hero? Stalking some poor civilian, stealing her shit, photographing her while she’s sleeping? You’re disgusting, a horrible, twisted, sick creep! Stay away from me!

You’re crawling backwards away from him as he comes towards you, his hands in front of him as a sign of peace. You’re crying, he can see, and it only makes his chest ache more, shame and self-loathing away at him because you’re right – he’s sick in the head, he knows it, but he can’t help it.

I know, I know, calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t stop crying, angel –

It's the wrong thing to say and he immediately knows it, because you give him a glare that makes something sharp dig into his heart, so much so that he physically clutches at his chest, wincing and averting his eyes from yours.

I hate you, Keigo, you whisper, and it makes something ugly come from his throat, a mix between a gasp and a whimper. I hate you I hate you I hate you.

He’s frozen for a moment, before swallowing, nodding his head and blinking the tears out of his eyes. I know, he starts, before turning on his heel and walking towards the doorway to the bedroom. I know you hate me, but you’re stuck with me.

And with that he walks to the front door, slamming it behind him and leaving the apartment empty. You stay curled up on the ground for a few minutes, still crying and hiccupping, the influx of emotion making your head ache. You’d been here for weeks now, and you thought you’d moved on from these crying episodes, from these emotional outbursts, but something about the photos had opened the floodgates.

After another ten minutes, you shakily get up, still rubbing at your eyes and avoiding looking at the wooden cabinet. You all but sprint to your own bed – the bed he gave you, at least – and curl up on top of it, letting your eyes shut and exhaustion fall over you. It’s not until you wake a few hours later that you notice Keigo still hasn’t returned home yet.

That was odd – he’s not on shift, and it was the middle of the night by now. Where was he? Shaking your head, flashes of the photographs race through your head, forcing you to stop thinking of Keigo. The night is quiet as you make yourself something small to eat – a piece of bread and a small amount of the low-fat butter Keigo eats, the apartment still eerily quiet.

You fall into a restless slumber soon after, your dreams filled with the sensation of something – someone – watching over your sleeping form.

When you awake, there’s still no sign of him – everything’s quiet and empty, and you bite your lip, equal parts relieved that he’s nowhere in sight but also slightly concerned. The feeling looms over you as the day slips away, his presence still gone. It’s not until two days later that Keigo finally returns home, and by that point the paranoia at his absence leaves you perking up when you hear the faint jingling of keys.

You’re immediately on your feet, practically tripping as you run to the front door, eager for him to return, eager to not be all alone and scared – something you’d realized about a day ago. You’d actually been afraid of his absence. Perhaps it was survival, wanting to make sure you had enough food and someone with the locks to all the keys that’d be able to let you out, or perhaps it was that you needed him. Maybe you needed some human contact, the total silence and your inability to contact anyone driving you stir crazy.

Regardless, you wait with eager anticipation as Keigo opens the door, those yellow eyes immediately catching yours, his expression carefully neutral though you can see something behind the practiced apathy. It’s relief, you think, and something else – something more desperate, something more vulnerable, something that makes you launch yourself into his arms, nearly knocking the wind out of him as he stares wildly down at you, shock written all across his face.

He’d expected that you’d be relieved that he came home, happy to have your source of food and care back, but not this excited – he swallows, frantically trying to not focus on the way your body is pressing against his and how he can feel all of you, instead letting his arms hesitantly wrap around you, not wanting to scare you.

You’re saying his name, he realizes, and he furrows his brows, closing his eyes and letting the sound ring through his ears. It’s wrong to be enjoying your clearly distraught state and he knows it, but he can’t help it – you’ve never initiated physical contact like this before, and is it really such a crime to be enjoying it?

I’m here, angel, ‘m here, he tells you, petting a hand over your hair and letting you squeeze him tighter. Please never leave me again, Keigo, please!

You’re begging him, he realizes, and it forces him to hug you just a bit tighter, his wings coming down to join the hug to. Closing his eyes again, Keigo lets out a slow, deep sigh, relishing in the way you’re clinging to him for comfort, begging him to never leave you for a moment.

And as he whispers a small I’m yours, I’ll never leave you again, you can only nod against his chest, disgusted with yourself for this display of your dependence on him. Because really, when had you become so fond of your captor? The photographs are still on the ground in his bedroom, all the things he's stolen from you sitting in that damned cabinet, but you find yourself not caring.

As you breathe in the now familiar smell of his cologne, hear his heart pounding away in his chest, you find that you don’t care about anything, really – because perhaps what he’s been saying along is really true.

Maybe you are in need of protection, needing him to provide for you. Because you’d been left alone for three days, and what do you have to show for it? Panic, loneliness, fear that he’d left you behind? Maybe you really are just as weak as he makes you out to be – and as you slowly pull back from the hug, you find yourself ever so briefly being thankful for him.

Thankful that you’ve finally, finally found where you belong: by Keigo’s side, letting him fawn over you and keep you locked up like some prized pet.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Keigo is less dangerous and more paranoid. He has so many alter egos and warring identities that once you come along, encouraging him to just be Keigo around you rather than Pro Hero Hawks or PLF Hawks, he can’t let you slip away.

There’s something about you that doesn’t leave his mind – perhaps it’s your mannerisms, your looks, the way you speak, how you walk and how you smell and how you think. Maybe it’s some twisted form of fate, or some long-repressed part of his quirk that’s beginning him to finally find a companion, a mate, someone to share himself with.

Regardless, once Keigo’s obsession forms, he’s a lost cause – he’s thinking of you constantly, unable to stop his mind from wandering into idle thoughts of what you’re doing or how you’re feeling. He finds himself unconsciously trailing behind you, watching over you from above with those sharp eyes of his narrowed in on your form, studying and memorizing the curves of your body underneath your clothing, the way you walk ingrained into him so deeply that when he closes his eyes all he sees is you.

His paranoia grows as his obsession does, too, the worrying realization that you’re weak making it difficult for him to ever part from you, anxiety swimming in his gut because what if you get hurt and he isn’t there to help you? What if you get into trouble and he isn’t there to swoop and be your savior?

(Some sick, twisted part of him almost wishes you would run into trouble, just so he could put himself into the position of being your knight in shining armor, of making you swoon for him, feeling the way you’d be so very grateful and want to make it up to him in any way you could. He forces the thought down, disgusted with himself for fantasizing about you being in danger, but during long nights where he tosses and turns in his too-empty and too-cold bed, the thought of you looking at him in such awe and gratitude makes something warm, wet, and shameful throb to life between his legs.)

He does eventually kidnap you, yes, but as time passes you’ll find that slowly you’ll stop caring about how he keeps you trapped by his side, how he controls your every day life, how he forces you into all sorts of loungey, comfortable clothing that always smells like him. Because really, Keigo is awfully pathetic – he thinks he’s good at hiding just how badly you affect him, but you can see the way he perks up when you enter a room, looking so hopefully and lovesick as he gazes at you that it almost hurts.

You’ll be able to tell how his heart is racing in his chest when you get close to him, his breath turning ragged and his palms so sweaty that when he wipes them on his pants they leave wet marks. It’s pathetic, sad, cute, and as time passes with Keigo as the only person in your life, slowly you’ll begin wondering if being loved by him isn’t bad.

Is what Keigo can give you – protection, adoration, reliability, devotion – really so bad? Is it so bad to just be loved?

And Keigo will be there waiting for you once you finally come around, his hands trembling as he hugs you, burying his face into your neck and you swear you feel something wet against your skin, his tears tickling you as his shoulders shake. He just loves you, and how cruel can you be to reject him, to leave him without the only person he’s ever cared for?

How could you be such a monster?

[loveydovey-leviathan]

If u read x reader fanfics, im pretty sure u saw the post where someone was complaining about how writers should just make y/n blank.

i agree with them when it comes to physical attributes (tall/short, pale/dark, etc), but what i will say is that it is kinda hard to leave the reader as blank as possible in terms of personality, especially when ur writing a fic: a piece of writing where the character has to interact with the reader.

Idk man, maybe im being big-headed or something, but the fact that they ended the post with 'it's not that hard' was kinda condescending and lowkey pissed me off ngl

[kodaiki]

꒰ 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ꒱ ↳ as a rising star in the tumultuous world of hollywood, you're handed a golden opportunity to boost your career – a fake relationship. what your manager forgot to mention? your leading man is none other than satoru gojo, hollywood's notorious fuckboy. easy? well, not exactly.

Y/N’S BESTIES┊GOJO'S GROUP┊OTHERS

ʚĭɞ rbs and interaction always appreciated! ʚĭɞ

[icarus-star]

new rory photoooo :3