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ladamedusoif · 4 months

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Tempered in the Fire - Part Three

See the Series Masterlist for complete content warnings, historical event information, and series notes.

Cross-posted to AO3. Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications for updates.

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI (chapter; series)

Content (chapter specific): Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; references to violence; references to infertility; references to spousal abandonment; strong language; period-typical misogyny; references to and non-explicit descriptions of past experiences of psychological abuse, sexual assault and non-consensual sex, and of domestic violence; abusive and derogatory language; smut; PiV sex; fingering; technical infidelity; angst.

Use of the Irish language with translations as needed.

Important A/N: In one section of this chapter, Reader recalls exactly how badly treated she was by her husband before he left. This means brief discussion of psychological, physical, and sexual abuse. I have tried to handle these issues as sensitively as possible and without gratuitous detail or description. (I am writing as a survivor of emotional abuse, and I want to express my gratitude for the vital advice and support of other incredible survivors, including of other forms of abuse experienced by Reader in this story).

Further A/N at the end of this chapter.

Taglist: @grogusmum, @insomniamamma, @yourcoolauntie, @tessa-quayle, @julesonrecord, @agentjackdaniels, @iamskyereads, @trulybetty, @pedrostories, @fuckyeahdindjarin, @katareyoudrilling, @perennialdoll247, @joeldjarin, @sunnywithachanceofjavi, @tieronecrush, @javierisms, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @rhoorl, @red-red-rogue, @survivingandenduring, @khindahra, @love-the-abyss, @fictionismyreality, @imaswellkid, @gracie7209, @lahoozaherr, @s-u-t, @its-nebuleuse, @novemberrain221, @schnarfer

(FYI taglists haven't really been working for me of late so please do follow my writing blog if you want to stay up to date!)

Réaltín snickers as you tie her up hastily outside your little cottage, adrenaline coursing through your body. It doesn’t take long to throw a few things in your leather saddle bags: some clothes, your sewing kit and a supply of fabric, the money tucked under your mattress. It’s not much, but it might be enough to get you out of here before he comes looking.

You wrap your best shawl around your shoulders and go outside to check on your little milk cow, safe in her stall. She blinks her big brown eyes at you, kind and trusting, and you rub her muzzle affectionately.

Cáit, your nearest neighbour, peers through the window when she hears Réaltín trotting up the lane. She’s waiting at the door before you’ve pulled up, sensing all is not well. You spill out your excuses.

“It’s family matters. All happened very suddenly. I can’t say more, but I’ll be back as soon as I can - will you look in on my cow, make sure she’s fed? You can have whatever milk she’ll give you, of course.”

Cáit nods, though she seems a little sceptical. “You’re sure you’re alright, a stór [sweetheart/treasure]?”

You bring the shawl around your head and mount Réaltín again. “I am. Thanks, Cáit. I’ll see you soon.”

It’s only when you’re halfway to your parents’ smallholding that you realise you can’t stay there, either. In your panic and haste you hadn’t thought it through. If Searlas wanted to find you, it would be the first place he came looking.

Dusk closes in, and slate grey clouds gather overhead. The heavens open and your tears start to fall as you bring Réaltín to a halt on a quiet lane.

Gró stirs his little bowl of vegetable and barley stew, lifting out pieces of carrot on his wooden spoon before dropping them back in the bowl and giggling at the satisfying plop they make.

His father shakes his head. “Ná bí ag súgradh le do bhéile.” [Don’t play with your meal.]

The little boy is the first to spot the horse arriving out of the darkness, pointing to the window. Din looks out cautiously, dark eyes surveying the small area outside the cottage illuminated by the candlelight coming from within.

Nothing.

The knock on the door is hesitant, and Din silently gestures to his son to stay put as he answers.

She’s soaked to the skin, red woollen shawl weighed down with rain, eyes reddened and fear written all over her face.

It is all Din can do to stop himself reaching out and pulling her close to him, to comfort and reassure her, to make sure she is alright. Instead, he simply stands back and beckons her inside.

She babbles her explanation: the errant husband returned, in the army, her worry that he would seek her out.

“I’m so sorry, Din, I… I just didn’t know where else to go.”

She’s shaking, and he doesn’t know if it’s the cold rain or her panic that’s doing it.

Before Din can speak, Gró has materialised at her side, and reaches up for her hand. His big eyes look up at her with the kind of affection Din has only ever seen the boy show to him, and at times to Peigí.

She looks from Gró to his father and back again. And then she breaks down.

“There isn’t much left, I’m afraid. But you’re welcome to it.”

Din looks from the cooking pot to you, sitting in a chair by the hearth with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as your shawl and outer bodice dry out.

“If you’re sure?”

He nods and ladles the stew into a bowl. You accept it gratefully, realising that it had been many hours since you last ate. It is a simple meal and all the better for it, the steaming broth warming your bones and the vegetables and barley filling your empty stomach.

Din sits in the other chair and scoops Gró up into his lap. The little boy smiles in your direction as you eat, and you notice he’s wearing the little shirt you made for him. You summon up the words, speaking hesitantly.

“An mhaith leat do léine, Gró?” [Do you like your shirt, Gró?]

His enormous eyes light up and he nods enthusiastically, turning round to look up at his father and laughing delightedly at hearing you speak his language. Din ruffles his son’s fair hair and smiles at you.

“Thank you for mine, too. You didn’t have to. I’ll make sure you’re properly paid.”

You nod towards the bowl of stew. “This is payment enough. Once my things are dry I’ll get going. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you out. I panicked, and -“

Gró sighs and nestles in against Din’s broad chest, trying to keep his eyes open but losing the battle against sleep. Din stands, carefully shifting the little boy in his arms and gesturing with a tilt of his head towards the loft.

“Stay.”

“I’ve already outstayed my welcome, Din, I don’t know what I was -“

“Stay.” He repeats the word, half-order, half-plea, as he stands at the foot of the makeshift wooden ladder leading up into the loft.

You nod, watching as the blacksmith expertly ascends with his son in his strong arms, a lantern in one hand. Din is wearing a sort of woollen jumper over his old shirt, and you can’t help but notice the stretch of the knitted fabric across his broad back and shoulders, the way it draws the eye to the muscles of his chest.

An unexpected wave of pleasure ripples through you. You shake your head, as if trying to rid your body of the feeling.

While Din tucks Gró in, quietly humming to him, you rinse the bowls from dinner and tidy up the main room of the cottage. There’s what looks like a settle bed against one wall, and what you presume is Din’s bed against the other, near the back window: a basic frame, simple bedclothes, a trunk at the foot of the bed.

“So you’ll stay?”

You turn to face Din, speaking in hushed tones as he descends the ladder. “I will stay for tonight.”

He looks at you, dark eyes hooded and serious. “You should stay as long as you need to. You are afraid of him, and I presume with good reason.”

“He might not even come looking for me. He’s gone so long, after all. But -“ You pause as the traumatic memories of the past swirl in your mind. “But him reappearing like this, and in uniform… He is not a good man.”

Din tilts his head and looks at you. You are grateful that he doesn’t pry further. “I can keep you safe here. He’ll never know.”

Before you can protest, he’s crossing the room and pulling out the rectangular, boxy bed frame from underneath the settle and rummaging in a small cupboard for blankets and pillows. “You can sleep here, if you’d like. Or in my bed, over there. Either way, I’ll sleep in the back store, or the forge.”

“Absolutely not. That back little room is too cold, too small. And the forge is no fit place for someone to sleep.” You help him arrange the bedding for the settle bed. “I grew up sharing a one-roomed cottage with my entire family, Din. This is no hardship at all, nothing irregular, as long as you don’t mind.”

He shakes his head and retrieves a half-burned candle from the mantle above the hearth, lighting it from the small lantern before handing you the lamp. Din leaves you to get ready for bed, taking the candle and going to change in the back store so that you have privacy. He calls out to you, checking that he can come back into the main room.

“Come ahead, Din.”

Tucked into the settle bed, you can barely make out his silhouette as he comes into the room. His solitary candle illuminates his strong profile as he gets into his own, wooden-framed bed across the room.

“Are you comfortable? Warm enough?” His voice, soft and low, carries in the quiet.

“I am. Thank you for this. I am so grateful.”

“Sleep well.”

Lights extinguished, you can hear Din shift in his bed and his breathing enter a slower, steady rhythm as sleep descends.

You lie awake in the dark, thoughts racing. So Searlas had fought for something - for his king’s shilling, no doubt, and they were only too desperate for men to fight in the wars against France. Searlas had spat bile and vitriol in ‘98 about the United Irishmen and the Defenders, the groups that had led the rebellion, blaming dangerous French ideas of liberty, equality and fraternity for poisoning people’s minds.

It made sense, now, that he’d have abandoned you to take up arms against those ideas. But you knew Searlas too well for it to be a moral crusade, or a stand taken on principle. Most likely, he’d spent the intervening five years doing as little as possible for as much reward, and probably whoring his way around Europe.

You try to push him out of your mind as you seek sleep, your brain seeking comforting thoughts and images until it settles on the recent memory of a pair of sparkling brown eyes, looking at you in the firelight.

Searlas’s hand is rough around your arm, and you know you’ll have a bruise there tomorrow. He drags you away from the fair and along the back road from the village, muttering abuse as you jog along trying to keep up with him.

“I saw you talking to him. The way you looked at him, the way you whored yourself around him. Filthy slut that you are.”

“Searlas, he’s my second cousin, I haven’t seen him in years…he’s family, I was talking to family!”

He pulls you harder to him before knocking you, deliberately, into the thorny hedgerow that runs along the dirt road.

“Watch yourself. You should be more careful of your footing. Stupid bitch.” He hauls you up and pushes you roughly along the road.

“When we get home, I’ll show you what happens when you act like a common whore in front of the whole place.”

“Searlas, please, please don’t, not again…”

“You’re a fat, useless, barren slut.” He spits the word at you. “And you’ll take your punishment from your husband.”

You have learned since the first time he “punished” you this way that crying out, or crying at all, only prolongs the agony. So you try to will your mind out of your body as your husband pulls your legs apart and pins down your arms, spitting insults as he forces himself on you.

You are not really here. You are in the back field, in springtime, with wildflowers in bloom. You are looking at the slate-grey sea, wind whipping at your face and hair. You are not really here, not really at the mercy of this cruel and violent man.

Sometimes, you try to focus on the words of the songs of liberty you know, the poems that sing of a dream of freedom.

You are not really here. You are free.

You wake with a start and for an instant you can’t remember where you are. A sickening panic thrums through your body and the sides of the settle bed feel like they’re closing in on you.

You sit up and turn your head only to be greeted by a pair of big dark eyes, staring intently at you over the edge of the bed. Gró smiles widely and begins chattering away, unaware that your addled brain is unable to keep up.

Din’s broad figure emerges from the back room, carrying a pot that he places on the metal crane over the fire, to warm its contents. He tuts when he realises that Gró is by your bed.

“Ná bac léi,” he says, somewhat sternly. “Tá sí an-tuirseach.” [Don’t disturb her, she’s very tired.]

Gró turns and reveals your head and shoulders, visible over the edge of the settle bed.

“You’re awake. I’m sorry, I hope he didn’t wake you. He’s young, he is curious.”

You shake your head and reach for your shawl, wrapping it about you. “Not at all. I… I woke by myself.”

Din beckons to his son and leads him by the hand in the direction of the door that opens onto the forge. “We’ll leave you for a bit. There’s some warm water in that pot over the hearth, if you want to wash. And a basin and rags, on the table.”

“Thank you, Din. I’ll be glad to make some breakfast once I’m dressed.”

He inclines his head towards you and carries the little boy into the forge.

While Din works and Gró helps out around the forge, you busy yourself with cleaning, mending, and preparing meals for your hosts, by way of a thank you for their kindness. The cottage is well-kept and tidy - an indicator of Din’s meticulous nature, you muse - and doesn’t require more than a little dusting and sweeping to get it ship-shape again once you’ve pushed the settle bed back under the seat.

The midday meal is simple - floury potatoes, piled high in a bowl, and served with butter, milk, and a little salt for Din. Gró eyes up the fresh pot of jam you had brought in your saddle bags, but his father’s wagging finger dissuades him as he eats his own little bowl of potatoes. Sitting at the wooden table, sharing the meal with them and listening to the chatter between father and son, you feel that familiar pang of loss, of yearning for what might have been.

You distract yourself by thinking about the evening meal.

“I can stay and make something for the supper, later,” you announce, as Din lifts his head and meets your gaze with those penetrating dark eyes. “And then I’ll leave you. I can’t abuse your hospitality any more than I already have.”

The blacksmith shakes his head as he peels another potato and dips it in the golden-white liquid in his bowl. “At least wait until you know it’s safe to return.”

You know, deep down, that it’s still too soon to know. But you also know that the smith and his son are already just about able to feed two people, let alone three.

Din turns to his son and ruffles his hair as Gró closes his eyes in delight. He whispers to him and the little boy grins before hopping off his chair and racing out to the back field, whooping and laughing to himself.

His father stands up and begins to help you clear away the empty dishes.

“You - you were unsettled in your sleep, last night.”

You keep wiping down the table. “Was I?”

You can feel Din looking at you. “You were. And this morning. You sounded upset.”

“Probably just a bad dream.”

Din sighs and hesitates before asking the obvious question. “Was it about him?”

“It was.”

Tension crackles in the turf-scented air of the cottage. For an instant you think about telling him everything: every fist, every bruise, every torn garment, every time your husband used and violated you in spite of your protests.

The image of Din wrapping you up in his strong, protective embrace floats into your mind, unbidden.

He breathes deeply. “He hurt you.”

“He did.” You finally look at the blacksmith, whose soft, compassionate expression comes as a surprise. “I felt more of his fist than his lips, I suppose you might say. But that was better than -”

You inhale sharply, summoning as much courage as you can bear. It is difficult to know how Din will react. But there’s something in your gut that tells you he can be trusted, unquestioningly.

“It was better than the alternative. When he…forced himself. On…on me.”

You stare down at the floor and feel heat rising in your cheeks. You have never told another soul about this, and are unsure why you’ve unexpectedly chosen this stoic man to be the first to know.

The silence hangs heavy between you, broken only by the sounds of your breathing and the crackle of the hearth.

When he eventually speaks, Din chooses his words carefully. “You have to stay out of reach of a man like that. If you could even call him a man.”

He picks up his leather apron and the grey fabric he uses to cover his nose and mouth while he works, and opens the door into the forge, pausing for a moment as he looks back at you.

“Stay. Please. Until you know you’re safe from harm.”

You wake before him the next morning, stealing out of the settle bed to dress in the back room, before quietly putting on water to boil for breakfast and freshening up. There is still some milk in its heavy, lidded container and you pour it into an earthenware jug before setting it on the table.

You hear a stirring from the other side of the room as Din lifts his head from the pillow and yawns, somewhat startled at the sight of you. You bite back a giggle at his skew-whiff bed head, the wavy brown strands sticking up this way and that as his eyes adjust to the light.

He smiles and shakes his head when he realises you’ve prepared breakfast.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I was awake, and I wanted to. I have to find some way to return your hospitality, after all.”

Din discreetly reaches for the pair of breeches folded neatly near the end of the bed, and you instinctively turn away as he slips them on before getting out of bed and climbing the ladder to the room above, where Gró is already happily babbling away to himself.

The blacksmith and his son head to the forge after eating, after you refused their offers of help with clearing up after the meal. As you wash the dishes in a stoneware basin, using some of the leftover hot water, you find yourself slipping, once again, into a fantasy of this being your life: this happy, safe domesticity, away from harm and mistreatment.

The memory of the soft smile that had appeared on Din’s face that morning, when he saw you preparing their meal, enters your mind. You close your eyes, a rush of warmth and something like desire coursing through you.

“No.”

His eyes, now, warm and kind and so inviting as they looked at you. The glimpse of tanned skin under his nightshirt.

“No. It cannot be. No.”

You open your eyes and delve deeper into the tepid water, scrubbing the plates and mugs clean and resolving to leave today - just as soon as you could be certain no danger awaited you at home.

At mid-morning, the sudden sound of a woman’s voice inside the cottage is almost enough to make you drop the bundle of clothes you’re carrying inside from the washing line.

She’s small, with an unruly mop of wild auburn curls, and a demeanour that indicates her wiles and toughness.

Peigí. It seems strange to see her here, away from her yard full of half-mended carts and spares.

She doesn’t spot you at first, too busy hauling in a milk can and a couple of baskets filled with random packages wrapped in brown paper. Food, you guessed.

“Only me, lads! Came by with milk and a few bits and pieces I have going spare after calling into the village, I know a growing little chap who’ll eat them right up, so he will. D’you know they changed the coterie of redcoat bastards at the barracks, Din? And one of them’s a local lad, fecked off and left his wife there a few years ago and now he’s back and he’s going mad looking for her and -"

The woman finally looks up and sees you standing near the hearth.

“Oh. Oh, lord bless us and save us!”

“Hello, Peigí. I’m sorry, did I give you a fright?”

She rounds the table to get a closer look at you. “God almighty, girleen, it is you!” She pauses and takes a step back, concern written on her expressive face. “Did… did you know about, er, him? Reappearing, that is?”

You nod. “That’s why I’m here. And by the sounds of it, that was the right thing to do.”

She turns her head quickly towards the door that leads to the forge, as if half-considering whether to summon Din to find out what, exactly, the wife of the prodigal soldier is doing lying low in his house.

“You’re not… ye aren’t… you and himself, are you…”

It’s pretty clear what Peigí is thinking, and you can’t exactly blame her. An anxious wave crashes through you, as you realise that your choice of hideout may well lead the community at large to suspect impropriety - on your part, of course.

“No. And if anyone else suggests that, kindly correct them on my behalf.” You put the bundle of clothes on the table and fold your arms. “I had nowhere else to go that he wouldn’t suspect. I came here in a panic. Din and Gró took me in and fed me.”

Peigí lifts the baskets onto the table, a sympathetic expression on her face. “Well, your instincts were right. Your husband - not that he should really claim the title, given how long he’s been gone - has been out to your smallholding looking for you, and to your parents’ place, and he’s been asking around for you.”

She takes a few of the packages out and arranges them into little piles. “Look, I don’t know your business but I’m guessing you have a good reason not to want to see him again, for being so frightened that you’d flee your own home. So you can trust me, I won’t say a word.” The earnestness of her expression and the kindness in her eyes tells you that she means it.

“Thank you, Peigí. I’d intended to go home later today, I can’t outstay my welcome, but…”

“But I’d give it another little while,” she finishes. “Until he decides you’re not worth the bother.”

The door from the forge opens and Din’s broad silhouette appears, face still covered with the grey cloth. “Peigí?”

“The one and same, Din. Brought you and that lovely little lad some bits and pieces. Now, where’s my darling boy?”

On cue, Gró tears in from the forge, little bare feet racing across the flagstone floor to greet Peigí with a tight hug as she sweeps him up into her arms. He immediately starts chattering away to her, pointing from his shirt to you excitedly.

“Well, aren’t you a lucky little chap, having new friends to make you clothes and everything!” She swivels around to face Din, his son playing with Peigí’s curls. “You don’t need to explain why she’s here, the poor girl. And she should stay put, in my opinion. Provided that’s alright with her hosts, of course.”

“What have you heard?” Din’s voice is cautious.

“Only that he’s been sniffing around the place and asking questions. Nobody knows she’s out here, though.” She ruffles Gró’s mop of fair hair. “You know me, Din, I know everyone and I hear everything. And I’ll be out here quick as anything, the minute I know it’s alright for her to go home. That alright with you, girleen?”

“If it’s alright with Din.”

His dark eyes meet yours. “It’s fine with us. We will keep you safe.”

Peigí looks from you to Din and back again, eyes narrowed and one eyebrow arched, before setting Gró back down on the ground.

“Right so, I’ll be off. See you next week, Din - if not before.”

You keep telling yourself that you’ll soon be able to go home. But, with every day that passes over the course of the next week without a visit from Peigí, a new, more uncomfortable feeling grows inside you.

I don’t want to leave here.

You settle into a comforting, reassuring routine: a little housekeeping and cooking, mending and sewing, playing with Gró, occasionally helping Din with checking the list of items left for repair. Gró alerts you if anyone comes down the lane to the forge, giving you time to scramble up the ladder to the attic and hide. It’s not that you expect Searlas himself - more that you fear he’ll find out if anyone from the locality spots you in the cottage.

You notice Din smiling more, these last few days. Sometimes, you catch him looking at you, eyes kind and warm. And he, in turn, has caught you looking at him.

By night, you sit by the fire together for a little while: you with your mending or knitting, talking, sometimes - and more you than him - but sometimes simply being in a companionable silence that doesn’t demand interruption.

This evening, he descends the ladder from Gró’s sleeping attic, candlestick in hand, and sets the light back on the mantel. The flickering flame throws shadows here and there, the brighter light of the fire illuminating Din’s profile against the whitewashed walls.

He joins you, sitting in one of the sugán chairs in front of the fire. He silently watches you, taking in your nimble fingers as you darn a pair of socks by firelight.

“You have a nice voice,” you say quietly, not even looking up from your work.

“I…” He seems a little taken aback. “Are you making fun of me?”

You look up, surprised and a little hurt that he’d think that of you. “Of course not! I heard you singing to the little lad and it was nice. It’s a compliment, Din.”

He looks sullenly into the fire. You reach over to pat his arm, to offer a little more reassurance and kindness, but he pulls away suddenly as if your fingertips were aflame. You jerk back your hand just as quickly. Had you broken some sort of rule?

“I’m sorry, Din, I didn’t mean to - I meant no harm.” You cast your eyes down again towards the stockings.

“It’s only that I’m not used to it.”

You look up quizzically. “Not used to compliments?”

He meets your eyes and huffs a laugh. “Well, that’s true too. But I mean I am not used to being touched. At least, not by anyone other than my boy.” He looks away again. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“Let’s call it evens, then, will we?” You yawn softly and let the darning rest in your lap. “I think it might be time for bed.”

You go through the evening routine established with quiet ease over the past few days: packing away your darning while Din smothers the fire and pulls out the box-like bed frame of the settle bed for you, setting out the few meagre cups and plates for breakfast on the sturdy wooden table while he retrieves pillow and blankets for your bed.

“There might just be enough jam for Gró to have for breakfast,” you tell him, peering into the bottom of the last jar you’d given them. Din stands beside you at the table and smiles.

“He makes light work of it, I’m afraid.”

You shrug and place the jar on the table, resting your hands lightly on the edge. “I’m glad. It’s nice to make a child so happy in this world.”

For a moment, there’s no sound except the occasional crackle of the candles and the rain beating its steady rhythm against the walls and windows of the little cottage.

Din rests his own broad, calloused hands on the table. With trembling fingers, he places his right hand gently on the back of your left.

He doesn’t look directly at you, instead stealing the odd glance as he tries to gauge your reaction. You turn your hand over so that your palm is touching his, letting your fingers intertwine with his long, thick digits as you softly squeeze his hand and turn to look at him.

His hands are still shaking a little, but his impossibly dark eyes are warm and wanting as they look intently into yours.

He moves a step closer. He brings the back of your hand to his lips. You exhale a little, a breath tinged with pleasure and surprise, and your fingers seek out the rough stubble on his jaw. He lets go of your hand, gently, and traces his fingertips across your cheek with surprising delicateness.

His kiss is a little awkward, at first, as if he’s afraid you might disappear entirely as soon as your lips meet. When you lean in and reciprocate, though, he responds in kind: strong arms pulling you close as he kisses you hungrily, moaning into your mouth as you wrap your arms around him.

And then it’s over.

He breaks away, breathing shaky, body almost trembling, face turned away from you.

“No. We can’t. You’re… you’re married, it’s not the way to - I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laid a finger on you.”

You walk quickly to the settle bed, keeping your back turned to Din. “I’ll go in the morning. I’ve exploited your kindness for far too long as it is.”

His own bed creaks a little as Din sits on it and sighs. “You won’t be safe. I can protect you, here.”

“I’m a married woman, Din, remember?” You fling a pillow down onto the straw-filled mattress in frustration. “So I shouldn’t need you to protect me. And I’d obviously only be a temptation. A harlot.”

You pick up your nightshirt and shawl and cross to the door that leads to the tiny back room, so that you can change for bed. You keep your face turned away and your eyes trained on the flagstone floor. That way, at least, he won’t see your tears.

“The thing is, Din,” you say quietly, as you pause in front of the simple wooden door, “over the last few days - in all the time I’ve known you, indeed - you’ve been more husband to me than he ever was, in the ways that really mattered.”

“Mo chuisle.” [My darling]

His voice, soft but pleading, cuts through the stillness like a prayer. When you turn to face him, he’s standing by the side of his bed, big dark eyes threatening tears of his own, beautiful hands twisting and rubbing nervously together. You’ve never seen him like this.

“Say it again.” You move towards him, shawl wrapped around your upper body.

“Mo chuisle.” He takes your hand and you instinctively move closer, leaning in to feel the warmth of his broad chest. Slowly, cautiously, Din’s strong arms reach around your body to hold you to him.

You stay like that for a few moments, listening to his heart beating, learning the notes of his scent: fire and metal. His large hand caresses the back of your head, his lips find your cheek with soft, lingering kisses.

“Let me keep you safe, mo chuisle. Here, with us.”

You look into his dark eyes, mapping the laughter lines around them and the contours of his nose, his mouth, his strong jaw.

When you first met Din, you weren’t sure if he was a handsome man or a striking one. You were wrong on both counts.

He was a beautiful one.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds, before your lips meet his again. Slow caresses give way to more urgent, hungry kisses, your hands holding Din’s face as he holds you tight, feeling the softness and contours of your body under the layers of wool and cotton in your garments.

You stay like that for a little while, lips and tongues blissfully moving together and hands roaming over each other’s body, exploring these strange and enticing new territories.

Din trembles under your gentle touches, the feeling of someone else’s tender caresses almost overwhelming after so long alone. For the first time in your life, you know what it is to be held and cherished with care as he holds you, seeks out your softness and your warmth, presses his lips experimentally to the fragile skin of your neck and décolletage, and sighs with pleasure.

His mouth moves gradually lower, and you loosen the neck of your blouse and undo your light wool bodice to grant him greater access. Those long, thick fingers, marked and calloused by his trade, trace the line of your breasts under your short linen stays.

“Oh.” He exhales the word, closing his eyes as his fingertips press lightly into the soft flesh.

“Din…”

Din’s dark eyes flick open and meet yours, his sadness palpable. “I’m sorry, mo chuisle, I’ll stop.”

You murmur a silent prayer that he won’t think less of you for what you say next.

“Din…don’t stop. I - I want to. I want you. I want you to have me. Please.”

He flushes and looks away, still holding you close.

You speak softly but firmly. “I know that’s very forward of me, Din, but…” You run your fingers idly through his hair and he leans into your touch. “Why did you turn away?”

“Because I’ll be a disappointment to you.” His eyes meet yours again, dark and sad.

“It has been a…long time.” He looks embarrassed, colour flushing his cheeks. “I…I’ve lain with, well…once or twice…but I…It wasn’t like this. It wasn’t -”

“If you don’t want to, you know that’s perfectly fine.”

“I want to. I want you.” He pulls you tight to him once more, and brings his hand to your breasts, gently kneading the flesh and slipping a fingertip here and there under your light stays as he sucks your neck and pulls your bodice open all the more.

“I won’t hurt you, my darling,” he murmurs.

“Oh, Din, I know. You never could. Let me undress for you, a stór, hmmm?”

Din looks on as you discard your bodice and your skirts, followed by your woollen stockings. You undo your short stays, leaving you as naked as you’ve ever been in front of another human being for a very long time: just your pale, light shift, undone over the décolletage and stopping just at mid-calf, the outline of your body entirely evident in the simple, thin undergarment.

His dark eyes appraise you, mouth slightly open. The width and curve of your hips. The thickness of your thighs. The little protruding pooch of your belly. The line of your shoulders. The gorgeous weight of your heavy bosom.

“Oh, mo Dhia.” [My god]

Din hastily takes off his knitted pullover and undoes his breeches and stockings, and soon he, like you, is standing barefoot on the flagstone floor, dressed in just the creamy-coloured linen of his undershirt. He closes the short distance between you, caresses your cheek with one hand and reaches for the other, holding it gently.

“Please take me to bed, Din.”

It’s strange, at first, to nestle beside him in his bed, to smile at each other and giggle quietly as you map each other’s bodies with roving fingers, curious lips, and wandering eyes.

You are no virgin. But this has some of the sweetness and curiosity of a first time, or at least how you had once hoped a first time would be. On your wedding night, Searlas took your virginity and shattered your romantic delusions, adding insult to injury by checking the sheets to see if you’d bled.

It’s different tonight, here in the blacksmith’s bed. You are both a little awkward, a bit hesitant from your years alone, the time spent seeking a kind of release in your own hands, the years that passed without as much as a loving touch from someone else.

The feel of another now, at last, sets you trembling. Din’s breath hitches when you caress him through the thin linen of his undershirt, and when you reach under his shirt and wrap your fingers around his cock he moans so loudly that you have to put a hand over his mouth, for fear of waking the little boy soundly asleep on the floor above.

You stroke him for a little while, hand still gently pressed over his lips to stem the flow of grunts and moans that threaten to spill out.

“I’ll stay quiet if I’m kissing you, mo chuisle,” he whispers against your hand.

You smile and move your palm away, and Din swiftly finds your mouth again as his hands grope your breasts. It’s exquisite torment - the sheer pleasure of his strong, broad hands being on you, his soft, warm mouth meeting yours, while the ache between your legs grows more and more insistent.

You take his hand and gently guide it under your chemise and between your folds. Din’s eyes widen.

“Ever touched a woman here?”

He shakes his head.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

A slow, entranced nod of agreement.

You bring his long, thick pointer and middle fingers to the sensitive little nub you’ve learned to massage when you needed release in your years alone, guiding Din’s motions as you teach him what you like. What you need.

He’s a quick learner, enraptured by the little whines his fingers start to pull out of you and the way your hips buck in response to the careful touch of his hand. He reaches for your breasts with his free hand, fondling them with endearingly clumsy enthusiasm while he continues to finger you.

“You’re wet,” he grunts into the side of your neck, fingers now tracing around your entrance as he explores you for the first time.

“For you,” you whisper, close to coming. “Because I want you to have me.”

Din’s kiss tips you over the edge and you whine against his broad chest as pleasure courses through your body. He looks astonished.

“Good?”

“So good, Din,” and you return his kiss, still stroking his cock. “You learn fast, a stór.”

His eyes are dark with desire and want as he plays with the hem of your chemise, hitching it up over your thighs.

“Can I have you, mo chuisle?” His voice is hushed, reverent, almost; his face open and genuine as he gazes into your eyes.

You nod and sit up, casting off your shift before helping him out of his shirt. Your fingers trace over the marks and scars on his body, lips pressing lightly to them, to the strong, beautiful muscles of his arms and torso, to the side of his neck.

With his pointer finger, Din draws soft lines and circles down your breasts and around your nipples, before gently bringing his warm, plush lips to each one in turn. Strong arms wrap around you and ease you down onto your back as his mouth continues to explore your body. He strokes his cock and moans softly as your hips buck up towards him, marvelling at the way you are responding to his touch.

He is a beautiful sight, nestled between your legs: broad body above yours, hands and lips exploring you, eyes blown completely dark with desire, and hard cock pressing against your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down for a long, deep kiss.

There is no moment of doubt in your mind, no worry about how this lovemaking is “wrong”, by virtue of the legal status that still binds you to a man who never held up his end of the bargain, nor had any intention of doing so.

Nothing in your life, you realise as you reach down to help guide Din inside you, has ever felt so right.

He takes you slowly, gently, biting his lip as he sinks into you and bottoms out with a groan he desperately tries to suppress as he adjusts to the feel of your wet, warm pussy.

He opens his eyes and caresses your cheek, smiling softly. “Mo cailín álainn. [My lovely girl.] Is this - do you like this?”

The feeling of his heavy cock pressing, filling, stretching you so beautifully is a revelation, a far cry from the pain and abuse that characterised your previous experiences. Suddenly, you understand why other young couples you’d known had been so desperate to go to bed together.

“It’s just perfect, a stór. And for you, is this - does it feel good for you?”

Din breathes your name and closes his eyes for a moment. “So very, very good, mo chuisle.” With a gentle kiss, he begins to move his hips as you whine softly at the gorgeous sensation. He moves slowly, at first, his sheer pleasure as he drags his cock in and out of you written all over his face and in every pant and whispered gasp of your name that issues from his soft lips.

Your knees hitch instinctively, your body acting on your innate need to take him even deeper inside of you. Din’s broad, calloused right hand finds its way to your hip, making you cry out as his fingers sink into the soft flesh, while his left eagerly gropes and massages your tits.

“That’s it, darling,” you purr into his ear, urging him on as he starts to fuck you harder and faster. “Yes - yes, Din, there - that’s…oh, god…” His eyes widen as he watches your head rolling back in ecstasy. He buries his face against the velvet skin of your neck, kissing and licking and nipping you until you’re stifling your moans against his dark, wavy locks.

“My good, good girl,” he whispers, moving his lips to your tits and muffling his grunts and groans against your body as his rhythm starts to stutter and falter. He’s close. “Where, love?”

“Inside me,” you hiss, “finish inside me.”

He comes hard, moaning into his pillow as he spills his release deep within you. You trail your fingers through Din’s damp, mussed-up hair and kiss the side of his head, over and over, until he pulls out and flops back beside you.

You turn to face him, chuckling softly at how wrecked he looks. “You’re very good at that, you know. Not bad for a man who thought he was going to disappoint me.”

Din grins, wraps an arm around you, and pulls you in for a long, slow kiss.

Dawn reaches its gentle rays into the little cottage and finds two lovers still tangled together, naked beneath the blankets.

Din wakes you with kisses: to your lips, your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. You nuzzle against him, still basking in the warm glow created the night before.

There’s a certain sadness in his kind eyes. Regret?

“What is it, Din?”

He looks at you, reluctant. “I just wish you were mine, mo chuisle.”

In that instant the warm glow is gone, replaced by stark cold. He’s right. You’re not really his. You can’t be.

But, says a little voice inside you, you are. What else are you, if not his?

You kiss his cheek and reach for his hand. “I am yours, Din. Don’t you remember what I said last night? I’m yours - and you are mine - in all the ways that truly matter.”

Further A/N: With thanks to @agentjackdaniels for her astute observation a long time back about the similarity between mo chuisle and mesh'la!

A settle bed was a common piece of furniture in eighteenth and nineteenth-century Ireland. Essentially, it was a kind of high-backed bench with a deep base that could be pulled out to act as a spare bed. A sugán chair is a traditional Irish form of domestic chair with a woven straw seat and wooden frame.

#tempered in the fire fic #din djarin au #blacksmith!din djarin #blacksmith!din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #historical AU #the mandalorian AU #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedrostories

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depravitycentral · 11 months

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Yandere! Kai Chisaki General Profile

Yandere! Kai Chisaki x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, mentions of dub-con, Kai is awkward and literally can't not pop boners around you constantly, threats, mentions of blood, mentions of needles, slight objectification, allusions to neglect, Kai forces you to watch him kill someone, masturbation, 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!

Tidy

First and foremost, being Kai’s darling requires a certain level of cleanliness.

They by no means need to be a germaphobe or obsessively making sure every surface is spotless, but keeping their living space fairly clean and orderly is something incredibly appealing to Kai.

And once his darling is living in the base and has a room all to themselves, it pleases him greatly to see his darling’s bed neatly made every morning, their clothes (all hand selected by him, of course) hanging up in the closet, or any other small display of them just generally wanting the area to be somewhat neat.

He likes the reassurance that his darling has a bit of sense about them, that they understand that cleanliness is important.

And honestly, one of the most heartwarming things Kai can imagine is his darling purposefully cleaning something for him, that they’re willing to spend their time and energy voluntarily making sure that something has been sanitized, cleaned or straightened up all in the name of making him more comfortable, of helping alleviate some of the disgust and fear of his everyday life.

He loves the idea of his darling being a sweet little domestic partner, a housewife of sorts, and if they have a natural liking of keeping things on the cleaner side?

Well, it only makes Kai fall harder, deeper, more completely, because god, how is his darling so fucking perfect for him?

Sweet

Kai is honestly a bit pessimistic; he’s not especially positive about things in life, not especially kind or forgiving, and though he hasn’t really given much thought to what he does and doesn’t find attractive, even he can’t deny that there’s a certain allure to someone who’s the opposite of him; of his brash and cold words, someone warm and sweet and soft.

A darling that doesn’t hesitate to throw kind words at him, to praise the people around them and just generally make people feel good about themselves is something he quickly becomes enamored with, the compliments at first catching him off guard.

His darling saying something along the lines of wow, the gold in your mask really brings out the shades of your eyes – it’s really pretty, is only met with Kai’s cryptic, stoic stare, making them shrink in on themselves while he internally tries to process the idea that his darling likes his eyes.

He’s confused at first, slightly irritated and wondering if they meant it in some sort of derogatory or mean way, but as his cold eyes search their own warmer, slightly nervous ones, he’s taken aback to realize that they mean it, that they’re being genuine with their words.

In all honesty, growing up in the yakuza and being surrounded by criminals and an parental figure that used tough love more than anything, having someone actively praise him or deliver compliments is something he’s completely unused to, completely confused by

But he can’t deny the way a little seed of warmth grows in his chest, the words feeling strange but nice.

And as his darling only continues with their offhand compliments, their small, sweet words, Kai only grows more and more addicted to them, and though he tries his best to compliment them back (it comes off more threatening than anything – your hands are very clean, I wish I could keep them for myself), it’s a bit difficult for him to recover from their honesty, from the way his heart hammers against his ribcage at just one mere kind smile from them.

It’s disorienting, but Kai would be lying if he said he didn’t absolutely love it.

Patient

He is, admittedly, a bit poor with processing and expressing his feelings; he’s never experienced a relationship or romantic feelings of any sort before he met his darling, and as a result he’s a bit clueless when it comes to courting them, to how he should act around them.

Of course, he wants nothing more than to completely woo his darling, to sweep them off their feet and get them to fall madly in love with him, but he’s realistic enough to know that no matter how many cheesy, dreadful rom-coms he watches, no matter how many articles or pieces of advice from colleagues and clients, it won’t change the fact that he’s just naturally not romantic, that he’s just not good with expressing himself.

He wants to be a wonderful partner, always spoiling his darling and making them feel treasured and loved like how he really feels, but it’s difficult for him to break away the layers of carefully built shields around himself, the thick skin he’s acquired through years of working in the underground mafia.

And, because of this, his darling absolutely needs to be patient – they need to be able to give him the time and space he needs in order for him to process his feelings, to try and make sense of how and when he should approach them about his desires to hold them, to see them smile.

And while it’s likely that his darling won’t even be aware of his obsession and romantic feelings towards them until much later in his infatuation, they need to be understanding of how fucking hard it is for Kai to be vulnerable, to allow any sort of happiness or weakness into his life.

Because really, his darling is his one true, huge weak spot – one he loves dearly and would give his life for, but still isn’t quite sure how to rely this to them.·

Smart

In Kai’s world, strategy, power and manipulation are absolutely everything; he needs to be at the top of his game at all times, making sure that he’s making the right decisions, playing the right cards and just generally making every possible move towards the restoration of the Shie Hissakai.

He’s constantly strategizing, thinking through decision after decision, scenario after scenario, and as a result he’s grown to absolutely demand intelligence out of those around him, to require brains and a general threshold of understanding for those he deems close to him, and his darling is no exception.

They don’t need to be book smart per se, but he needs to have confidence that if he were to explain something to them (though he avidly tries to separate his darling from any and all yakuza business) that they would understand, that he wouldn’t need to spend hours going over the same piece of information again and again before they finally understood.

There’s a certain attractiveness to intelligence that he can’t quite explain, but very much feels – when his darling makes some sort of quick remark or statement in response to something he said, there’s a sense of pride swelling in his chest, because that’s his beloved who’s so smart, so understanding and quick thinking.

He really likes the idea of his partner and him being a bit of a ‘power couple’ (though he absolutely refuses to give up any of his own power over his work or them – he is in charge, as he always will be), in that they’re both forces to be reckoned with, smart and strong and a powerful team together.

It’s enticing, and though his darling likely couldn’t change his mind about anything, Kai enjoys asking them about their opinions and thoughts on certain matters, just to understand how deeply they agree or disagree, how deeply his darling’s smarts run.

That, and Kai will be taking every possible opportunity to bond with beloved, even if talking about hero society is the way to do it.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Controlling

Kai is, as in most aspects of his life, absolutely desperate to be in charge of every little thing around him.

He needs to be dictating every single thing you do, everything you say and think and feel, otherwise things get ugly, quickly.

There’s a part of him that’s absolutely terrified that you hold so much emotional weight over him, that he cares so much about you, that he does things because of you.

He doesn’t like the way he feels so helpless in the face of you, even as unassuming and weak as you are.

He doesn’t like that you hold such power over him, knowingly or not, and as a result it helps to quell down this anxiety and fear when he’s telling you that you’re not allowed to leave your room, that you must wash your hands every ten minutes on the dot, that you aren’t to speak to another living soul besides himself.

Kai craves for you to feel the same overwhelming, disorienting love that he does for you, but more than anything he craves absolute control over you.

He wants power over you, to know that you will follow his every word, his every command, anything and everything he could ever want.

To him, it shows that you trust him, that you love him and that you’re giving yourself to him, to let him love you and show you how much you mean to him.

In his eyes, it’s all actually strangely romantic – you’re his sweet little quirkless woman, the girl he thinks he loves, the one he’d do anything and everything to protective and keep his, and in return all he asks is that you let him decide everything for you, that you depend completely and solely on him.

It’s a fair deal, really, and after all, he knows what you need much better than you do - after all, he knows you better than you know yourself.

He has a, for lack of a better term, brutal schedule that he keeps you chained to – he’s rigging an alarm for your room that goes off at exactly 6:30 in the morning, a steady beeping noise that does the job quite nicely, if the camera feed showing you frowning and covering your ears with the single pillow he’s given you is anything to go by.

He’s sending in a henchman (masked, so that there’s no chance of you finding him attractive) with a tray of nutritionally balanced breakfast items that you will eat, lest he’ll use force against you.

Your breakfast will consist of a pile of meat of his choosing, steamed vegetables on the side, and a small container of starch next to the plate.

A smattering of vitamins are enclosed in a small box in the corner of the tray, the some ten different pills ranging from the size of his pinky nail to a quarter patiently waiting to be swallowed.

(When you ask, he doesn’t tell you what they’re for - he just tells you they’re good for you, that you’d better take them, we wouldn’t want you getting sick, now would we? You don’t need to know that they’re all for diseases or conditions that run in your family - he checked - but you don’t have - it’s just a preemptive measure to make sure you don’t develop them, that nothing could ever harm you and take you away from him. Plus, the small white one you eye suspiciously will help him in the future, he hopes - after all, he’s certainly not ready for you to fall pregnant anytime soon.)

You’re scheduled for testing most of the day after that – various blood tests, check ups on your physical and mental health, mandatory meetings with him in his office to discuss your ‘progress’.

(You’re still not exactly sure what he means by that - he won’t give you details when you press, instead getting this weird sparkle in his eye while he stares at you, the eye contact making you squirm while he tells you that you’re very important, you’re the key to my success.)

Dinner is the same as your breakfast, and directly after is a shower that lasts for ten minutes – no more, no less, where you’re required to shampoo, condition, and scrub your body.

(You don’t know it, but there’s a camera set up in the corner of the shower that’s constantly rolling, just so that Kai can get some peace of mind and make sure you’re doing as you say - it’s certainly not to aid him when it’s late and he’s sitting in his office, eyes trained to the screen as he aches and throbs and yearns for you, both aroused and disgusted by the thought of being intimate with you, of being inside of you…)

You’re to be in bed by 9:00 at night, tucked underneath the covers and eyes closed so that you get the proper amount of sleep, ready to be awoken so rudely the next morning and repeat it all.

Deviation is quite rare in his itinerary for you – sometimes he’ll join you during your meals, or inform you that certain tests are being postponed until further notice, but for the most part Kai will absolutely be keeping you on his regiment – having such obvious control of you is something that he absolutely needs, a requirement he’s simply unwilling to compromise on.

The feelings you give him are already disorienting enough, strong enough to leave him feeling weak, dependent, angry, and the only way to regain some semblance of power is to show you that you utterly and completely belong to him, that you have absolutely no control over your new life, over your life in which you’re Kai’s beloved, perfect little woman.

Possessive

Because Kai has never really developed feelings for anyone in his life, romantic or really even platonic outside of Pops and Chrono, you present an anomaly for him.

The way that he feels for you, the desperation that overtakes him where you’re concerned is something he’s completely unfamiliar with, something strange and new and something he isn’t entirely sure how to handle.

(He’s never been a fan of romance, and has spent very little time indulging in any sort of media discussing the topic, and as a result he does genuinely feel like a fish out of water, even if he doesn’t entirely hate the experience.)

And really, the strangest thing about the development of his feelings for you is the way that he just reacts to you, unconsciously moving or thinking things he would never do otherwise.

There’s a part of him that he completely loses control over when you walk into the same room as him, when he sees your lovely eyes fixed on him, when you say his name, when you so much as breath in the same space as him.

(He’d requested you start calling him Kai in private a few months into your ‘stay’, if only because the way the letters roll off of your tongue makes his eyes flutter closed and a sharp exhale sound from below his mask.)

His eyes are snapping to you every time you enter his peripheral, amber eyes appraising you and scanning up and down your body, noticing a new detail every single time - he wasn’t aware you had a mole there, or a small scar here.

(But now, don’t you worry, he’ll remember well.)

And because he’s so unsure of how to manage the new urges and responses that you present him with, he falls back onto his more aggressive traits, the more primal parts of him that don’t really express themselves much in his day to day life taking center stage.

That is, Kai suddenly turns into a jealous, possessive freak because of you – he’s plagued with worries that you’ll leave him, that one day he’ll wake up to find your bed empty, your smile vanished along with your body he was just beginning to crave touching.

(Though he rationally knows the security system of the Shie Hissakai base and the numerous tunnels and henchmen would prove your escape extremely unlikely).

He’s paranoid that you’ll find someone else within the organization that you like more - someone more conventional, friendlier, more intimate with you.

(Just the thought of another man touching you makes Kai’s muscles stand taught, fists flexing and his quirk spiking up out of control, his bloodlust skyrocketing because absolutely nobody should be laying their filthy, disgusting hands on you and ruining you.)

And though it makes him feel stupid, weak, pathetic, he can’t help the way jealousy sits heavy in his stomach as he watches you smile and thank Chrono for dropping by with a new book to read, one Kai himself had heard you mention something about offhandedly, one Kai remembered and went out and personally bought just for you.

He can’t help the way his fists clench as he stares behind the computer screen, vowing to himself that he’ll be the one to deliver you gifts from now on, so that you won’t associate anything sweet or thoughtful with anyone but him.

He hates the way you make him feel (at least, that’s what he tells himself – but even he can’t deny the warmth spreading through his entire chest when you softly murmur thank you, Kai, I love it as he places the elegant, dainty gold necklace with his initials in your palms), but he knows that there isn’t much he can do to change it.

He knows that for all the negative feelings your smile and touch stir up within him, he’d never really choose to let go of his devotion for you because god, do the positive feelings make up for the negative ones a thousand times over.

And so, once he comes to terms with the fact that you do inspire jealousy within him, that he’s territorial over you in a way that makes him feel more animal than man, he’s taking it and running with it – he wants everyone within the Shie Hissakai to understand that you are completely off limits, that you’re property of Kai Chisaki himself, that you are quite literally owned by Overhaul.

He’s threatening undermen, buying you expensive clothing and jewelry and trinkets to make you feel loved, appreciated, even if the ring he presented you with while you ate the mystery dinner from Chrono’s tray the other day looked much too similar to a wedding ring to comfort you.

He sees you as his possession, an item he can have and own and cherish, and while he does want you to love him, to want him in the same way he wants you, there’s just something about marking you as his, dressing you up in clothing that he bought for you, covering you from head to toe in antibacterial lotion that he chose the scent of, keeping you his sweet little partner that makes him oddly giddy, an honest, genuine happiness washing over him that he hasn’t felt in years.

So really, just let him dress you, feed you, bath you and remind you that you’re nothing without him, that he’s the only one you can trust and should care about, and Kai will be over the moon. He might, maybe even smile fondly at you, petting your hair and whispering a soft I love you to your sleeping form.

You’re just that special.

Dependent

Although he’s strong and almost infuriatingly independent, once his emotional connection with you develops, Kai is a bit of a lost cause.

You mean absolutely everything to him – his whole life before you revolved around re-establishing the Shie Hissaikai and ending hero society, but once you show up?

Well, it’s still important to create and harvest the drug, to be using Eri and making sure the organization will continue on strong and prosperous, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to take just a small break from vigorously rubbing in some hand sanitizer after a business meeting and let his mind wander to you, to imagine how you’re probably curled up on your bed trying to nap, looking all peaceful and calm and - dare he say it - cute.

It’s not too big of a deal to take a few minutes to drop by your room and check up on you, right?

(Besides, seeing the way you brighten up when he steps into the room makes something in his chest swell with pride; you wanted to see him, didn’t you? Not really, no - it just gets so lonely all alone in the windowless room, but Kai doesn’t need to know that.)

Surely it wouldn’t be bad to take a break from the mountains of paperwork and watch the live footage of you in your room, working diligently at the puzzle he gifted you with the other day, right?

Kai is, for lack of a better term, completely whipped for you – your safety, happiness and health are things that are constantly on his mind, swirling questions of what you’re doing at any given time, when you last ate or slept or used the restroom circling through his head so much it feels like a never-ending loop.

Once Kai gets a taste of how good it feels to care for someone, to have a special person in his life that makes his heart race, his throat get a bit tight and his hands to start sweating, he’s clutching onto it with desperation, doing everything in his power to keep the sensations of happiness, of contentedness, of genuine love blooming in his chest.

He’s addicted to you, and while his every waking thought is either fixated on the drugs or you (though as time passes it slowly becomes clear to him that you take more of his headspace than his work, a disturbing discovery but not one he bothers to fight), his devotion to you only deepens.

Of course, Kai is absolutely terrible at expressing how much you mean to him – he’s so emotionally stunted, so unsure of how to approach you and the way you make him feel, that more often than not you’ll be left wondering what you did to irritate him, why he’s always staring at you so intensely, why he’s always stopping by your room and asking you personal, strange questions.

(Do you prefer cold or warm climates? What’s more upsetting to you – seeing a child or a puppy kicked? What areas on your body are ticklish? Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?)

Honestly, Kai will likely just be one huge mystery to you – he doesn’t want to expose himself and his feelings, and as a result he won’t show any traces of vulnerability to you – you’re left completely in the dark, left to wonder why and how you’re still alive, and when the yakuza boss will decide that you’ve lived past your expiration date.

Sure, he does buy you gifts; jewelry much too expensive for your tastes, dresses and skirts that accentuate your form in darker colors (he’s particularly partial to greens and golds – always dressing you up in gold necklaces, gold heels and sleek jade dresses that dip just a bit too low on your chest), occasionally a bouquet of flowers in your favorite colors that he insists brighten up the mood a bit.

(Though you don’t have the heart nor the courage to tell him that a bundle of roses sitting in a vase in the corner of your stark white room doesn’t make you any more comfortable there.)

Sure, he spends hours upon hours upon hours behind the computer in his office staring at you through the screen, the many cameras and audio bugs placed around the room picking up your every action, word and movement, his wide eyes feasting upon your innocent, perfect form as he simply takes in the beauty that is you, the feelings of love, adoration and utter want swimming in his chest intoxicating him.

Sure, he’s killed guards left and right for staring at you for a beat too long, for making some crude, disgusting joke about how they’d love a piece of you, that Overhaul’s too uptight, bet he doesn’t even fuck her – what a waste, she needs a real man to show her how its done.

Sure, he spends the majority of his time obsessing over you, doing daily check ups on your health and your safety, but Kai won’t ever display a moment of weakness to you – he only says he loves you when you’re asleep, laying so gracefully across your bed, his form seated at the edge of the mattress while he lightly strokes your cheek, his mask discarded onto your nightstand as he leans down, closes his eyes and takes a deep inhale of your scent, pressing his lips ever so lightly, softly, tentatively against your forehead.

He doesn’t want you to understand how much hold you have over him – because if you did, Kai is absolutely sure that you could manipulate him into getting whatever you want with just a simple kiss and whispered word of affection.

After all, Kai Chisaki needs you, and although he’s embarrassed by how much you mean to him, how crazy you make him and how absolutely obsessed with you he is, he wouldn’t change a single thing.

After all, he’s never been able to love someone, to touch them and protect them and desire them, and he’ll be damned if he ever loses you.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Kai is, to put it simply, insanely possessive over you; you’re his girl, the only one he can love and touch and really feel happy around, and as a result he absolutely refuses to allow any other man to get even remotely close to you.

It’s a combination of jealousy and deeply rooted insecurity about his romantic skills that makes him so quick to snatch you away from other men.

He won’t ever admit it, but he’s very aware that he probably wouldn’t be your first choice, that his issues with intimacy and expressing himself and the fact that he kills on a daily basis likely does nothing but push you away, make you more hesitant to fully give yourself to him, to actually love him.

But instead of communicating with you, of putting himself in a position where you could actually see how much of a mess you make him, Kai instead decides that isolating you from every other man in the complex is the best solution.

This fear only serves to make him more strict on limiting your contact with every other person on Earth who isn’t him, every other man that could possibly draw your attention, that could make you forget about Kai and instead fall heads over heels for them.

He’s methodical in his approach to keeping you utterly and completely his – making sure that your contact with others is incredibly limited, that you understand the consequences of becoming too chummy with anyone but himself.

Because you’d have to be his captive before his feelings for you even really form, he doesn’t have to worry about any men that he doesn’t know approaching you, fighting for your affection and love.

He only needs to consider the possibility of one of the very few people he allows you to have contact with – namely, a select group of the eight bullets, himself and Chrono.

It’s an ease to his mind to know that he’s really only competing with a few other guys, and although it makes him feel stupid, pathetic, weak to be comparing himself to someone like fucking Rappa, there’s a certain part of him that can’t help but wonder if it’s really someone more like him you’d like – muscular, social, not hesitant to touch you, all of the things he really isn’t.

It’s stupid and he knows it, but as he stares into his mirror with an expressionless face, looking at his nude body and his hands that can so easily take and give life, there’s a certain amount of insecurity settling in his chest.

Obviously, you don’t really have a choice in who you spend your time with, who you’re forced to depend on, who you’re destined to be with until your dying breath, but Kai really truly would prefer you to want him, to actively be choosing him.

And when one of the few people he lets have contact with you starts pushing the boundaries too far, getting a bit too friendly?

Well, all of those pushed down insecurities and destructive thoughts are rearing their ugly heads, forcing him to take measures he would prefer to not deal with, to not have to feel such terrible, sick things in his heart as he watches you laugh and smile.

You’re his, whether you like it or not, and Kai will absolutely make sure the fact is drilled into your pretty little head, even if the methodology is less than tame.

When he spots Sestuno leaning on the doorframe of your room, smirking down into the space while your lovely, tantalizing voice gushes about some show you used to love watching before you got kidnapped, immediately he’s scowling, thin eyebrows drawing taut as he realizes how fucking close Setsuno is standing next to you, how his gaze is aimed directly at you, how you’re just letting him stare.

Kai’s pissed, and as his footsteps grow harsher, more distinct against the cement of the underground hallway, he’s nearly growling.

He hates when he gets like this – it’s so painfully obvious how much of an emotional hold you have over him when the jealousy is seeping through his every pore, when he’s nearly driven insane just by another man looking at you.

It’s infuriating that something as simple and weak as you are able to make him a complete mess with just a few actions, just a few smiles and looks directed towards others.

It’s infuriating, but as he approaches Setsuno, the anger at himself is drowned out by the rage he feels towards his underling – immediately he’s clearing his throat, piercing eyes staring right at his subordinate as he interrupts the conversation, letting out a surprisingly calm sorry to interrupt, but tests are scheduled for right now. Wouldn’t want her to be late, would we?

And although Setsuno holds respect and genuine awe for his boss’s abilities, a twinge of fear climbs up his spine, making him hastily nod his head and return back to his station a few hundred feet away, nervously awaiting what he’s sure won’t be a pretty sight whenever Kai is done with your tests.

All throughout the blood draw that day, he’s tense, not really responding to your questions as thoroughly as he normally would, not paying as much attention to you as he’d like to.

(He’s staring at you, yes, but he’s sort of staring through you - not as observant as normal, not with the same concentration as normal, as if he’s counting your eyelashes or memorizing every blemish and pore on your face.)

Instead, he’s thinking of exactly what he’ll be doing once he safely escorts you back to your room, once he makes sure that you’re safe and sound and completely unaware of what he’s about to do.

And once your door is closing, he’s immediately scowling and stomping over to Setsuno, approaching the man with a deadly glare and scolding him in a voice so eerily calm that it has the other man gulping.

You know your place – you aren’t to look at her, touch her, speak to her, be anywhere near her. So tell me, what did you do today, Setsuno?

And when the other man can only respond with the truth, Kai won’t hesitate to disassemble him a few times – each with an interval longer and longer, sometimes not assembling every limb back together until it’s just barely not too late, letting him feel the excruciating pain of his arm being ripped off again and again.

There’s this twisted, maniacal look on his face as he does it - like he’s enjoying hurting Setsuno, like with every time his leg is ripped from his body, he’s ripping away some of the damage that him talking with you caused, ripping away any semblance of attraction or even a friendship between you two.

If Setsuno wasn’t busy in excruciating agony, he’d almost be scared his boss’s expression.

Kai’s pissed, and it’s only after twenty or so rounds of assembling and disassembling that he’s finally calmed down – though he won’t leave without hearing the words I’ll never come near her again, I promise! She’s yours, Overhaul, all yours!

And once he does, he’ll only firmly nod, leaving Setsuno on the cold ground, assembled yet terrified, as he retires back to his office to review the last hour’s worth of footage from your room.

Jealousy isn’t a pretty look on Kai, and he holds back absolutely no restraint when he feels that his claim on you is being tested.

So when Setsuno, one of the only people here you feel you can call a friend, begins avoiding you like the plague, don’t be surprised when Kai shows up, telling you how Setsuno’s just strange like that, always changing his mind back and forth. Don’t worry about it – I brought you a deck of cards, would you like to play?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

To really catch Kai’s attention, a very specific set of circumstances must occur.

You must be quirkless, a civilian, and he must have stolen you off the streets for testing.

Only then, once he’s got you under his grasp already, do his feelings begin to form, in all their horrible and wonderful glory.

But, because had stolen you away before his feelings for you even manifested, there really isn’t a forming-the-obsession-and-stalking-before-kidnapping phase for him.

You’re already at the Shie Hissaikai’s base, already under his control and grasp, and as a result you’re already accessible to Kai, already close to him and so very vulnerable to his wants and whims, to him being around you as much as he pleases.

He doesn’t experience any sort of longing to steal you away, nor does he have any kind of dilemma on kidnapping you.

However, because of the way in which Kai got to know you, it creates a bit of a unique situation as his captee – you’ll find as his feelings grow and develop, as he becomes more and more dependent on you, that your surroundings seem to change, that you periodically get moved to different rooms, different spaces in which you spend the majority of your time.

The rooms get progressively nicer, larger and more private, soon getting to the point where you even have a small kitchenette in the corner, where you’re able to prepare little snacks and food items.

(Kai must always be present in the room during your little cooking episodes, however – you need to be eating healthy, making sure that you have a balanced diet, though the minute that you turn around excitedly and ask him if he’d be willing to sample whatever you made, he’s fighting a blush and nodding stiffly, trying to calm his racing heart and quell the thoughts of how you look so much like a lovely, domestic wife cooking for him…)

You won’t be sure of why you’re gradually being treated better and better, getting spoiled with gifts that you didn’t ask for, spending time with Kai in quantities that make you cock your brow but shrug, knowing that if you confront him it’ll likely be more trouble than it’s worth.

You won’t know, but Kai sure as hell does – he wants you to like him, to love him and need him, and as he progressively decides to upgrade your living space until your room is right next to his own, allowing quick and easy access (and thin walls, of course) it helps quell his desire to be near you every moment of the day, to be on your mind just as constantly as you’re on his.

And really, it’s only a plus that he can press his ear to the wall and listen to you breath at night (he moved his bed to be right next to yours, only the thin wall separating the two of you), or that he can basically speak to you through them - even as much as it terrifies you.

It’s better this way, really - it helps quell the fear of you somehow slipping through his fingers.

As his captee, your experience with him really depends on your own behavior and tolerance – the only way you would’ve ever caught his attention is being a mix of quirkless and kind, reaching out with soft, understanding words rather than screaming, fighting or cursing him out like every other test victim he’s picked up.

And so, if you keep this behavior up, Kai honestly isn’t too terrible of a captor; he’s relatively clear on what he expects from you, relatively easy to please as long as you follow his every command and keep talking to him about your day, about yourself, asking him how he’s feeling at any given moment.

He’s possessive and controlling to an almost staggering degree, yes, but his expectations are crystal clear, if a bit sterile.

And so, if you can put up with him placing cameras in your room to keep an eye on you every minute of every day, of him regulating what you eat, when you bath, how you sleep, you’ll be fine.

If you can deal with him bringing you into his office for hours on end, just having you sit and read or chat to him while he works simply because your presence is enough to help ease the stress of running the organization, then you’ll be just fine.

If you can deal with the daily check ups that progressively get more and more personal (it started with a simple blood draw, checking your temperature and an eyesight test, then gradually moved in a full body examination over your clothing, then without the clothes, then with you sitting in what appeared to be a gynecologist’s chair), then you’ll be just fine.

It’s about tolerance with Kai – if you’re patient and generally obedient, life under his rule will be surprisingly easy, even if loving the man who kidnapped you isn’t as simple.

As his feelings grow, Kai honestly gets a bit clingy; you calm him in a way he didn’t know was possible, the warmth spreading through his chest foreign and strange yet addictive as you place yourself on the leather couch opposite his desk, trying to ignore the way his amber eyes pierce through you, or the way there’s a very obvious tent in his pants when he reaches across his desk to place a strand of your hair behind your ear.

He’s wanting to visit you constantly, though he rations himself a bit if only to keep some semblance of self-control.

And though he wants to be constantly touching you, feeling your soft skin against his own (that he knows he can touch with no penalty, and since the day you willingly held his hand, he’s been harboring the fantasy of hugging you, resting his hands on your waist, cupping your cheeks, running his hands through your hair, kissing you…) and just being around you, his awkwardness when it comes to opening up to you persists even once he’s absolutely sure that he’s in love with you, that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you by his side.

It’s just not that easy to tell you that his happiness depends on you now, that you’re on his mind in both the waking and sleeping world, that he’s devoted to you in every sense of the word – and so, he tries to show it to you by making sure that you’re in pristine health, that you’re spoiled with the most lavish gifts and items and goods that he can find, that you’re treated like a queen by everyone in the Shie Hissaikai, or else they’ll have hell to pay with Kai himself.

He hopes that you might understand via these methods, as it’ll take him years to fully admit to you how much you mean to him, for him to feel comfortable actually telling you those three little words he’s thinking as he stares at your sleeping form, as he watches you smile while you read a particularly happy part of your new novel.

He loves you, and as long as you stay good and obedient and personable with him, life under Kai’s rule won’t be too difficult – removed and odd, yes, but as long as the feeling that you’re some thing he’s studying and obsessing over doesn’t bother you, then you may even find yourself being okay with the locks on your doors, the threats of his men down the halls.

It’s okay, you tell yourself as he traces a single, ungloved finger across your collarbone.

It’s okay, you’re not dead yet, you’ll be okay.

PUNISHMENTS:

Despite the general softness that Kai possesses for you, he has absolutely zero patience when it comes to you misbehaving.

He’s still the boss of the Shie Hissakai, a yakuza member who’s used to being completely obeyed, to killing rebels with a flick of his wrist.

He’s still a criminal, even if you smiling at him leaves him flushed under his mask, and the moment you step out of line, he has no problem reminding you of that fact, no problem making it explicitly clear that he’s the one in charge.

He’s very much a worshipper (though more on the down-low, if only because a small part of him is still absolutely mortified that he’s fallen so deeply for someone like you), though despite seeing you as a bit of a goddess, Kai doles out punishments right and left.

Of course, there’s always the omnipresent threat of his quirk hanging over your head; you’ve been told by Rappa how excruciatingly painful undergoing a disassemblement is, and if the muscular, violent Rappa is saying that?

Well, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’d be almost glad to be dead after such an ordeal.

You’re painfully aware of just how much power Kai holds over you; how his every whim and emotion could potentially spell your death, how any small misstep (or lack thereof, to be honest) could result in your blood splattering across the walls.

And call it self preservation, but in the face of a violent, painful death at the Shie Hissakai boss’s hands, obedience begins coming quite naturally to you, as does being hyper aware of every little thing you do.

It doesn’t take long to figure out that Kai is very much not a person you want to cross, as just a few simple demonstrations of his quirk in action on unlucky yakuza underlings are almost violently shoving the truth in your face.

It becomes your mission to be the picture-esque captee, to not give him any trouble and follow his every command to a T.

After all, Kai is a difficult man to please, and while your mere presence relaxes him, makes him happy in a way he can’t remember ever experiencing, he’s not afraid to do what he needs to in order to make you understand that you will be following his every word.

Along with the ever present threat of him using his quirk on you (something which Kai has sworn he will never do, if only because he’s terrified that in doing so you’ll lose some of the precious purity you harbor), he has a tendency to use other methods to keep you in line via fear.

Killing is a part of his daily routine, and while he doesn’t particularly enjoy ending someone’s life, it’s something that he sees as necessarily in order to keep his underlings in line – and when you’re in need of a punishment?

Well, who is he to deny such wonderful timing and opportunity?

And so, when he drops by in the evening to bid you a goodnight, he can’t help but smooth his shirt down slightly and run a hand through his hair outside your door, feeling like a teenage boy with how he so desperately wants to look good for you, to impress you.

He opens the door without a knock, amber eyes flicking across the room to find you sitting on the edge of your bed with the latest book he bought for you perched in your hands, your eyes staring raptly down at the yellowed pages.

You’re so pretty when you’re focusing on something, Kai’s found, and as he watches you read with an air of complete concentration, he can’t deny that a small pang of irritation eats away at him.

He’s here, present inside your room, having sped walked through the hideout to reach you in his haste to see you, and yet you’re ignoring him in favor of a book?

It hurts a bit, if he’s being honest, if only because shouldn’t your attention be solely and completely focused on him, not some mish-mash written down on a page?

His brow twitches as he clears his throat, watching the way you jump and immediately meet his gaze, surprise flitting across your features.

You make some comment about not seeing him that only makes Kai feel worse, the distinct realization that you don’t just sense his presence as he does yours hitting him.

But before you really have any space to say more, he’s telling you to follow him, that there’s someone he’d like you to meet, which you do, hesitance eating away at your gut at the irritation swimming in his eyes.

He’d meant to have a simple conversation with you, to bask in your presence and maybe and lightly hold your hand (something that still makes him flush from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck, though he’d rather die than admit it), but now that you’ve made such a clear choice to ignore him, to prefer your book over him, he’s deciding that the man he’d planned on killing tomorrow for having made openly insubordinate comments about himself and Chrono would be receiving his punishment early, with another set of eyes viewing.

You know immediately that something is off the minute he closes the door behind you, the bald man tied to the chair in the center of the room staring wildly at you, his dark eyes pleading silently as the gag muffles any words spilling past his lips.

You can’t hide the shock and fear on your face, terror at what exactly Kai plans to do eating away at you, though when he moves to stand next to his victim you can only harshly swallow.

Tell me: do you know why I might be angry at you?

His voice is deceptively calm, apathetic yellow eyes boring into yours as you stutter out a weak ‘no’, genuinely at a loss as to why he’s upset. Kai can only frown, humming lightly before tugging a glove off, making the man beside him squirm.

I bought you those books for entertainment purposes yes, but don’t you know it’s rude to ignore others in favor of fictional characters?

You’re freezing at his words, the realization that he’d been angry at you for not noticing him earlier hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Really, I know you’re smarter than that, so I’m letting you off easy this time. But, don’t think you’ll be going completely unpunished – it’s just that Yamaro here just so happened to be willing to take the punishment for you.

The man’s eyes go wide, his squirming and struggling more desperate than before as kai unceremoniously taps a finger against his bare hand, the man immediately exploding in a shower of blood and guts, making bile rise up the back of your throat.

Kai clicks his tongue, shuddering at the splash of blood against his arm, but those cold eyes stay focused on you as you gag and look anywhere but at the sight in front of you.

It’s your fault, (f/n). If you hadn’t been so rude, he’d still be alive. Do you understand your lesson now?

That of course is not true, but Kai won’t tell you – not when you’re nodding, frantic in your desperation to get out of the room, and when Kai nods a few seconds later, opening the door, you breath heavily, staring at the cement ground in fear and shock.

The guilt is overwhelming, the idea that you’re responsible for that man’s death weighing heavily in the back of your mind, exactly as Kai hoped for.

He’s silent the rest of the night, dropping you off at your room without a word, and when you awake the next morning and he steps inside your room, you’re immediately throwing your book to the side, forcing a smile and a chirp of good morning, Kai. How are you?

It’s a bit of a dirty method yes, but Kai couldn’t care less – obedience is what he wants, and he’ll get it from you, even if he has to lie and kill right in front of your eyes.

Anything to keep you in line and his, after all.

OVERALL DANGER:

8/10

In all honesty, the danger that comes with being Kai’s darling is that there is truly, genuinely no escaping him.

He’s so thorough in his planning, so steadfast in his organization and meticulous thought put into every possible scenario that could play out with you that your future is quite literally sealed the moment he feels the trace edges of his feelings form.

Kai is, without a doubt, not a good man – his devotion to his organization is commendable, but his moral compass is deeply skewed, the mere existence of Eri enough to prove that just as he’s willing to do anything to ensure the success of the drugs, he’s willing to do absolutely anything to make sure that you stay by his side, that he gets to keep you like a prized possession that only he gets to gaze at.

You’re something he revers, his dedication to you unparalleled, and because of Kai is absolutely making sure that you’re spoiled, that he rewards his dearest, as he calls you, with the finest jewelry, the best food and the strictest schedules he possibly can in order to keep up your perfection, to keep you pristine and healthy.

He loves you, in some sick, obsessive way, and poor, poor Kai is so unused to having someone with whom he holds such deep, desperate emotional connection to that he’s honestly floundering a bit.

And lucky lucky you gets to experience every drop of cruelty, desperation and yearning the Shie Hissakai boss has to give you – and receive you shall.

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere overhaul #yandere kai chisaki #_lee's profiles #_bnha #_kai chisaki

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hiskillingjar · 1 month

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your honor.... i need fem ren headcanons.... i need tiny evil feral foxgirl to save me.....

rounding out the trifecta (quad-fecta?) of girlfailures with the BIGGEST girlfailure

hcs for law, strade and fox. let's gooooo (this got long)

full tumblrina

you know her ass is on every side of tumblr too. she has a fujoshi/himejoshi weeb blog. she's got a fashion blog. she's on ED tumblr and posts traumacore edits. she's got a troubling porn blog. she's the moment!

pansexual she/her, and she does put it in every bio, thank you

lana del rey listener. she's the only one who understands her

a little "not like other girls" misogyny-core but that's only because she's intimidated by other women.

it's a trauma response. cut her some slack (she says whenever she's rightfully called out)

high aesthetic, like ren always is

might have had a bit of an e-girl phase and posted thotty cosplay pictures but got weirded out by gross men making passes at her

she dresses really well and she's small and cute which make people underestimate her a lot

be warned, she has a strap on collection that would make even the most seasoned pervert blush and she WILL use them.

oscillates wildly between total pillow princess or scary intense domtop (it's a trauma thing)

little boobs but full hips. shorter than canon ren but carrying a little more weight (she's a nerd who never leaves her room, her ass is not at the gym)

she doesn't shave (on account of the beastkin thing) but keeps stuff (bush…) trimmed. very neat and tidy and takes foreverrrrr in the bathroom cus of it

has a feminine preference as always, mostly because she'd be too intimidated to top a masc mc (unless they were really meek and mild. she'd go after them like catnip…foxnip)

you know she's got the problematic fauxcest kinks. would be full on "let's play sisters" with a fem mc. absolute girlfreak that she is (derogatory)

watches soooooooo so much porn and has burned out like two cheap hitachi wand dupes from masturbating so much when she's in heat

that's when she'll go pillow princess and just beg someone to fuck her (not like she has many choices though :/)

#ren hana #ren btd #ren x mc #ren x reader #qs #headcanons #girlfriend to death #cannibal teeth #i wanna write the girls...sigh

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bentosandbox · 11 months

Text

Lappy fancam animatic blogging/production notes

now that wolfgirlyaoi is out on global its rambling time about my powerpoint presentation

Concept

Originally I wanted to do an (Tex & Lapp) animatic with the boss theme (broken wall/Signore dei Lupi .mp3) ever since the event dropped but I thought 1) by the time I finished anything someone else would have probably already done it first (lol, lmao even) 2) I remembered the song exists and how much i looped it then while listening to the group's new album drop and thought the lyrics fit Lapp a little too well and also doesn't end abruptly like the boss theme + was shorter so yea

initial stickman storyboard where i put down the lyrics with event dialogue/happenings that i felt would fit nicely together > hastily scribble the images that form in my head

storyboards were basically what i wanted to see (same rule as my comics) lol especially if they weren't shown in the event CGs, eg. there's a CG of the truck crashing into the courtroom so I didn't do that but they didn't mention her physical acting in that scene + the song I used has a bow/salute at that exact part in their live choreo with the very similar line so I wanted to do a homage even though-

-I was like it's going to be such a pain to figure out an economical hand twirl and bow but I have to do this I need to transplant the image in my brain onto the screen because official media did not do a—

Honestly still don't know if its a common phrase and action combo because I was having so much trouble finding external references that wasn't just scrubbing the live video over and over anyway

part of the storyboards were 'recycled' from comic drafts I did (of the chocolate scene because ofc) when the event was running on CN

Originally I wanted to draw Lapp feeding Texas for The Girlyaoi Funny but I wanted to reference the plaque you get which is a Creation of Adam reference right but I also saw people saying it's referencing the scene from Silence of the Lambs lol so...peel the layers to your liking!!

(The chocolate flavour choice was from asking my Columbian friends what the worst chocolate flavour they ever tried which was white coconut)

my sorry attempt at colour keys > final spreadsheet to keep track of progress and paste all the dialogue i put in

Art Direction

A bunch of shots/colour schemes are references to Måneskin's stuff or other media tehepero I'll just put a few here

At first I was going to limit red/blue to tex/lapp respectively but since Omertosa is blue I just did away with that rule and lapp gets to have both (and more!) these two colours have pretty obvious emotional readings I think but also

red = self blue = society Siracusa or: red = yaoi & blue = yuri

for the others:

Purple = Alberto/Saluzzo, its not orange like the fruit he keeps holding because see below; I needed the colour for something else LOL Also the Saluzzos are iirc nobility or whatever and they have purple hints in their clothes so I think it was a good fit anyway

Yellow/Orange = Its supposed to be representing the last word in the story which apparently, yostar went with 'Savagery' which is Correct I guess but (laments again about how nuance is lost in localisation because imo savagery has a more derogatory kind of connotation while I think 蛮荒 in context of the story also has a 'nature/untouched by civilisation' side to it) which is why Texas setting the house on fire was not (entirely) red but orange (and it complements the blues both visually and thematically) and it's yellow at the end when they're frolicking(?) in the wilderness lol

(these colour rules don't apply to the penglog shot and technically a few frames like the shot with shocked penance, the one right after and 'im just lappy' because...i forgor my own rules lol)

The greens/teals were just a reference to the shades in the 3DPV I think

The silhouette/general style was inspired from the 3D teaser thing they had at the beginning of the 3.5 anniversary stream and the card suits that I..forgot to move to the other layers which is why only the green one had them (supposed to be 1 per set 💀)

The clash bit is basically the same as the event CG but with a flipped camera/POV sorry for world's worst screenshot lmao. Couldn't imagine the poses in my head so I ended up posing 3d models in CSP pretty good posing practice

These shots got rendered extra because..they were the first frames I started on and I was still figuring out how much to simplify lol

I also posed the chairs shot for some inexplicable reason…my file was lagging so bad

Headcanon part (kind of)

The childhood flashback scene is probably the part I took the most liberties (headcanon) on since it's not explicitly canon like the rest...the sequence/how I connected the scenes itself to fabricate a timeline of her childhood was kind of inspired by some weibo post musing about how (iirc) texas's sweet tooth maybe came from when she was being fostered at casa Saluzzo and Lapp treating her like a pet essentially and giving her a lot of treats since...you know what happened to her actual pet hehe except maybe texas offered her a stick first and then Lappy just reciprocated endlessly because its one of the few 'acts' she knew that wasn't violence haha yeah this section was basically a stealth doujin sorry

It's mentioned that she was brought up as the ideal Siracusan or whatever and she does the cute doodle in the 3DPV so I thought she probably had the Forced Music Lessons as a kid (The music sheets are Bella Ciao and of course)

The bow choreo was the one thing i really wanted to animate but the music sheet segment (based on that one split second shot above) ended up being my favourite part even though compositing the motion was a mini hell on it's own (ended up compiling a long png to scroll by with the red doodles layered over)

Other things

I will never live down my (self-imposed) shame of misspelling the title (I fixed the title on youtube but its why the ending shot in the upload says ZittE e Buoni instead of ZittI e Buoni) don't rush your fancam in 10 days 😔

I didn't look through the entirety of the EN loc but Idk why they had Lappy say 'Then go.' to Texas when it's supposed to be more like 'Let's go.' as in, 'let's go together' as opposed to 'alright off you go to the greyhall alone' lmfao also her saying goodbye forever padre when addio is right there

I don't think I'm insane enough to do another ppt soon but man this pair really makes the 'imagines a whole music video while listening to music' part of my brain go wheee like first it was Starset's Manifest then Signore de Lupi then this and while working on this one i was thinking how Måneskin's Torna A Casa would be another good track

ok ty for reading #GIRLYAOIREAL

#arknights #Il siracusano #bentodraws #bentotexto #I was going to have this post as a reblog but tumblr broke my copypaste so here's a completely separate post #feel free to ask me about anything else i didn't cover in here

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hit-song-showdown · 11 months

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Year-End Poll #58: 2007

[Image description: a collage of photos of the 10 musicians and musical groups featured in this poll. In order from left to right, top to bottom: Beyoncé, Rihanna, Gwen Stefani, Fergie, T-Pain, Carrie Underwood, Plain White T's, Akon, Nelly Furtado, Fergie. End description]

More information about this blog here

This poll highlights some interesting changes in the direction pop music was heading. By this point, it was clear that pop music was shifting towards a more electronic sound and specifically club music. Buy U a Drank by T-Pain is especially notable for this. Most obviously, T-Pain was one of the most successful adopters of Auto-Tune as a stylistic choice. I touched on the plugin briefly when discussing Cher's Believe, but with both that sound and most of T-Pain's discography, the vocal effect was used to give off a futuristic, almost robotic quality to the voice. But that didn't stop Auto-Tune (and T-Pain specifically) from being used as a punching bag for "untalented singing". In case it needs to be said, the exaggerated use of Auto-Tune on these songs were a stylistic choice. If you're using Auto-Tune to fix a bad vocal performance and it sounds like that, someone messed up. (Also T-Pain actually is a very talented vocalist).

I'm also bringing up this song for how it represents a subgenre of southern hip-hop that would become forever associated with the decade: snap music. While it has its stylistic origins in crunk, snap was recognizable for its simpler production and more laid-back sound. Popular snap songs from the time include Laffy Taffy, Crank That (Soulja Boy), and It's Goin' Down. While not on this poll, Crank That (Soulja Boy) is relevant for being one of the first examples of a song taking off online (as in, someone made the song and posted it online themselves). The song was first posted to SoundClick before expanding to a wider audience on MySpace.

This subgenre is more commonly remembered as "ringtone rap", for how this sound really worked with the audio processing technology capable of cellphones at the time. Like "bubblegum pop" in the past and "mumble rap" in the future, the term "ringtone rap" was often used in a derogatory sense.

But the simpler production techniques found on these tracks is also emblematic of how music production was starting to become much more accessible. Crank That (Soulja Boy) was created using a demo version of FL Studio, and the drum loop for Rihanna's Umbrella comes from Apple's GarageBand (specifically Vintage Funk Kit 03). Technology was allowing people to have easier access to both music production and audiences.

Also, this was the year this site was founded. Yay.

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stormblessed95 · 1 year

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Addressing Everything

So by now, most of you have probably seen all the drama that is occurring for the past week. I've been aware of it since it started. I haven't said anything as I was hoping it would die down on its own, but that's clearly not happening.

Mrs-monaghan, along with a few others do not like me. She thinks I'm toxic, a bully, forcing people to agree with me or get blocked, etc. I don't regret my choice to block people when I block them, and I will continue to utilize the block button whenever I feel the need to. I will say that I am not blocking anyone for a difference of opinion. I'm blocking someone when I feel the need to remove their posts or comments from the content I consume on this site, my content is part of that consumption and interaction i have on here. I am a believer in curating your timeline to best fit you. That is what I'm using the block button for. I don't want to see hateful posts, I don't need people in my comments calling me names either for my opinion. I've always been willing to agree to disagree and a lot of the times, the comment section in my posts over more "controversial" topics shows that.

Alot has been claimed about me being different in DMs than I am on the timeline. I don't think that's true. I'm usually more willing to discuss things more in depth and have a more lengthy back and forth discussion over a topic in DMs than I am in an anon ask. But that is something I've also made clear in many of my posts. I also do generally curse more in my language as its vernacular that i use a lot in my daily life and ill have more typos/be less polished. Which I think is fair during a less formal conversation. I am also more than willing to post Screenshots of my DM history with Mrs-monaghan if anyone feels the need to see them since that has been a sticking point for her. I don't mind. I dont want to, but not because im worried about it, but because i didnt/dont feel the need to continually fan the flames of all of this or fight with her about it. She is entitled to not like me and i dont need to try to convince anyone otherwise.

I don't think anyone should be name calling when addressing another blogger and if the name wasn't intended to be derogatory, then it could be changed when making future comments about them, now that other people have gotten involved. I do think that should be said. Call me what you want, but if a mean idc about you nickname is derogatory in nature and it's not intended to be, maybe come up with something else. But honestly, none of this is really the point of my post here right now.

I've seen all the mean posts being made and sent in about me after I said I would start blocking people for shady posts against Tae (shady, not critical or questioning, but posts that were rude and mean in nature.) And honestly, that's fine. I cannot control what other people think or how they feel about me. They are all entitled to those opinions and feelings. I wont lie that i was a little surprised at some of the people who participated in these posts and signed off on them. But thats okay.

I did not and still do not want people going to her blog or any of the others who have said things to defend me or shame anyone in anyway. Losing followers if people believe their posts is okay. I've never been here for the numbers. I can't control what people do or say about me and I don't want to. If people end up not liking me because of that, that's honestly okay. I don't need people Bullying (in anyway you want to consider the word) anyone in defense of me. I don't appreciate that. If i get an ask and I answer it with my opinion and it disagrees with other peoples, that's where I want that to end. I don't need anyone telling other bloggers I'm right and they are wrong. It's all just opinions in the end. I've never wanted anyone to use my posts as a way to argue with other people. Everyone can choose to engage and interact with the content on here that they choose and how they choose to do so.

I do just want anyone else here to know that if I have offended or upset anyone on here, I am always willing to talk about it. My DMs have been open for that reason. I am willing to agree to disagree if that energy is also returned. I'm willing to bend on a lot honestly. I won't apologize for blocking the people who have been interacting with posts that are hateful to me or about how they don't like me. That is something I am doing for my own mental well being and safety. I don't need people who actively dislike me around me. And I think that is fair.

That's all. Just if anyone is making more posts or going to plan to send in asks, I'm asking you not to and to let it go. I don't need to change anyone's mind about me. They are free to not like me as much as they want. That's okay. I don't need anyone defending me.

Thank you for reading if you got this far. If you choose to unfollow, that's fair and totally up to you. I hope everyone has a good day.

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catt-nuevenor · 3 months

Note

While I do understand where these anons are coming from, as I am disappointed about said changes myself, I am sorry that you have to keep "defending" your work and intellectual property. Like you said, this was a work in progress project that was subject to change at any point throughout its development. This was a bit hard for some of us to swallow, I guess 😂 but you had every right to do so. Personally, my choice is to just not complain but still support you and your incredible work.

We have all experienced your writing skills, so there will definitely be a story that we will fall in love with again. Or a story that we will enjoy, but other fans won't. That is all completely natural and understandable. But people shouldn't keep on annoying you and other fans, who are genuinely excited about the changes, with their "disappointment." In other words, people should move on. Stop yucking their yumms. There is no need to complain to you about something you had every right to do to your own work! I am sure the fans who are excited about the changes will enjoy your incredible writing and the game will be a success!

True fans will stand by you to support future projects they might enjoy, others will keep on complaining, so I guess you should just turn off anon for a while. I am sure that will stop most of these types of asks! You should keep on doing whatever feels right for you and your vision of your work 🥰

I love the meme! Definitely made me chuckle.

And thank you for the support and patience in waiting to see how things play out.

Regarding the previous ask by the anon user, while it is and was frustrating to field comments/questions like this, such things are in the minority. 99% of the time, folks on here are wonderful and/or constructive, and I'm happy to respond to them.

I had contemplated ignoring the anon ask completely, and had half-convinced myself to let it languish unanswered this morning. I answered it as I did because it inadvertently highlighted some of the backlash I received from the announced changes last year, how the general sentiment went and my personal feelings towards them. Most of the messages relating to that period I did not publicly reply to as they either retread already addressed ground, used rude and/or derogatory language, or weren't meant to be publicly answered and expressed that wish in the message text.

The internet, for better or worse, is a public forum of instantaneous reactionary communication with little to no cooldown between incident and response. Little of this is conducive to a reasonable discussion. There are always going to be those who disagree with either my actions, my words, or my decisions when it comes to my work. It would be a little scary if everyone agreed.

I won't be switching anon asks off as it would negatively affect folks who've done nothing warranting it. Collective punishment is not my style. I will be selective with what asks I do and don't answer. Such is exercising my control over the contents of the blog.

Tbh the anon ask wasn't that bad, I've had far worse. A reaction to a frustration without consideration of the contents. Such is the way of the internet.

#asks #myrkmire #Myrk Mire

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hornets-nest666 · 8 months

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Many people have some questions regarding to the choices we've made. The purpose of this post is to provide a clear understanding of the situation, to prevent the spread of misinformation or baseless criticism.

So, let's start with the first character we want to discuss: Rosco. There were people who didn't approve of his design and appearance. In the animated series, Rosco was on the heavier side, but in the comics, currently, he is thin, even skinny. Then why? We want to be honest with you instead of trying to kiss your ass and make excuses. We see him like this. Yes, it's that simple. It's like how Connie sees Sheba as being full, even though she is not portrayed that way in the canon. (And right now, I'm talking about this person's creative work, not the person themselves. I have never criticized Connie's creativity.)

By the way, we'll get to Sheba a little later.

I want to highlight a crucial aspect that many people have overlooked. Roscoe was a plump kid since his early years, and he faced bullying from his peers due to his weight. Our intention is to shed light on the challenges that overweight individuals, especially children, may face.

To be honest, I myself was a witness to bullying at school. Regrettably, it is a common issue that many children have to experience. However, it is important to note that we strongly disapprove of this behavior and, on the contrary, aim to raise awareness about this problem.

No one should be subjected to humiliation based on their physical appearance or any unique features they may have. This applies to people of all body types, regardless of being overweight or thin. Unfortunately, some individuals choose to overlook this and instead resort to intimidation and derogatory remarks, accusing us of being fat phobic.

Now, let's address the questions concerning Sheba. Some people, particularly those who are fans of Connie, have been upset with her physique. These people argue that Sheba being overweight is normal while being thin is not, and accuse me of being fat phobic for not portraying her that way.

Let's make something clear. These people claim that Sheba as overweight, and some have even attempted to prove that she was depicted as such in the original work, despite the fact that I have previously provided evidence (which can be found below) that debunks this rumor.

I am not judging their interpretation of the character in any way. Clearly, they appreciated how Connie illustrated the character, and for that, I am happy for them. However, it is unnecessary for them to shove their personal head canons on everyone else. No one is required to draw the way you want them to. Many people hold various opinions on this character. However, I, personally, along with my assistant Leila and our translator Kalu, perceive her like this and it's NOT BAD. Surprisingly, the negative reaction towards the portrayal of Sheba came as a shock to us. It seemed as though everyone prefers exclusively caring for overweight individuals, while negatively judging thin individuals solely based on their body size. This situation seems to exhibit a double standard.

Do you enjoy Connie's artwork? Well, why are you still here? Instead, you should be on her blog. I've come across several artists who portrayed characters differently from how I imagined them. What do you think I did? I simply continued to browse through their artwork without resorting to trash-talking or discussing it in a chat room with my friends.

There's a simple truth: if you appreciate someone's work, you follow them; if you don't, you just move on. I have no intention of apologizing for my work or belittling myself in front of those individuals who think it's acceptable to insult an artist based on their perspective. By reacting this way, you only reveal that you have nothing better to do.

Let's recall our most memorable April Fool's JOKE, which left a lasting impression on many people. I never thought people could get so offended by a really harmless joke.

Interestingly enough, it was Connie's fans, as well as Connie herself, who seemed to be the most offended. It seems that the significant age difference in the prank was taken quite seriously.

However, let me explain everything in order. Bendy, at the age of 18, is naturally inclined towards romance and has always followed his heart's desires. Regardless of anyone's attempts to dictate his dating choices, Bendy's rebellious nature ensures he remains unaffected, simply pursuing relationships with whomever he chooses.

Moreover, it is important to acknowledge that in my country, the transition into adulthood begins at the age of 18, and this fact cannot be denied. From the age of 18, individuals have the freedom to make their own decisions and shape their own lives. Consequently, once I reach the age of 18, I can start a relationship with a man who is 50 years old, since I will legally be considered an adult and capable of making my own choices. If you don't like it then you should direct your arguments towards the laws and regulations of my country, rather than towards me personally. You can try to reach out to Putin himself for a response.

Furthermore, it is worth noting that the same principles apply not only in Russia, but also in certain states across the USA.

I also find it funny to see the hypocrisy of individuals, who consider Bendy to be a child, while behaving in a deceitful manner. Why don't you bring up Bendy's 18+ content? Why don't you express surprise and concern about Bendy's age, saying something like, "Wait, Bendy is only 18!" It seems dishonest, doesn't it?

I did not draw anything like this based on the Oswald and Bendy pairing, because it was meant to be a joke. It's surprising to realize that there are individuals who need even the simplest things to be explained to them.

And of course, there will be those who will immediately ask, "Well, if Bendy doesn't care, what is Oswald's perspective?"

Just like any guy who has discovered his perfect match.

A relationship isn't just about one person; it's a mutual connection. If Bendy had an issue with Oswald's age, he would have rejected him. And I'm certain Oswald would have respected that. It's surprising how others feel the need to criticize Bendy, an adult who can stand up for himself, for being content with his partner's age. He will find his way in life without their judgment.

(Leila: Speaking from my own life experience, my mom and dad are 11 years apart. They live normally, and it hasn't caused any problems so far. :b ✌️)

That marks the end of this post. I sincerely hope that, through this, you are able to understand and empathize with the opposite perspective. As I said, this post is purely explanatory, as there are still individuals who remain unwilling to understand. I will not apologize for my artistic expression or any of the actions taken. I do not perceive them as insignificant or as errors requiring forgiveness.

They simply represent my creativity, personal interpretations, and humorous anecdotes, which some of you may view as subpar.

In that case, kindly refrain from visiting my blog again.

Thank you for your attention. ♥️ Additionally, I would like to extend my gratitude to Leila, Kal, and my dedicated audience for their unwavering support. You all hold a special place in my heart. 😭💝

#babtqftim #bendy and boris the quest for the ink machine #bendy and the ink machine #fan comic

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monstersmashorpass · 5 months

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welcome, fellow monster lovers + fuckers~! to the smash or pass blog!

First things first - this is a queer friendly blog, so no r.adfem b.s. of any kind. don't be assholes, don't be bigots. be a clown (derogatory) and get blocked.

Second, no shit-talking people's monster(s) of choice. We're here for fun, not for negativity. (So no calling basic, shaming choices, saying "oh this non-human isn't enough of a monster", insulting how they look, calling them vanilla, etc etc.)

Third - if your preferred monster looses the poll, that's okay! They're still a winner in your heart. This is literally all just for the lulz. Genuinely, don't worry about it.

Also you're 100% allowed to add propaganda to the posts about why ppl should vote smash. (Not for pass though. Bc that's under the no negativity rule.)

→ UNDER THE CUT ←

➥ How to Submit a Poll Option

➥ Meet the Mods

→ HOW TO SUBMIT A POLL OPTION ←

use the ask box! Preface the ask with [Poll submission] so we know for sure that its one! here's an example of how to submit!

PLEASE NOTE THE FOLLOWING!

→ if the character / monster is a minor, that's a no-go. Don't be a fuckin creep. Keep kids out of this.

→ we will not post monster options such as W*nd*g*s, Sk*nw*lk*ers, and the like, as its a) from closed culture, and b) not the place.

Native peoples have asked many a time for ppl to stop fuckin w their folklore and stories, so give em respect. It's the least that can be done, goddamn. Any bullshit sent about this will be deleted and blocked.

ANYHOO

If you're able to, add a pic of the monster in question! If it's someone's art, please make sure they're okay with it being used first, and provide credit too. We're not reposting willy-nilly around here. We do need artist credit whenever possible! (if te images submitted are official, pls just make a note of it!)

[Poll Submission] Monster name, What theyre from* [Poll Submission] Wulver, scottish folklore [Poll Submission] Abe Sapien, Hellboy (movies or comics) (image from Hellboy comics)

* this is more if its applicable - ie; from specific mythology, or from a media source. If the media is 18+ please make a note of it!

---------------------

→ Meet the Mods ←

We're a couple of chaotic idiots who know each other irl and get up to shenanigans. Like this blog.

Mod Curse 🌸

Mid 20s - she/they - Big Gay

Evil women? Sign me tf up!

Uhh I'm a weird cat mom, artist and general nerd, bonus adhd

Mod Ghoul ☢️

mid/late 20s, he/his it/its

Horrible taste in fictional men lol

A fuckin menace

Three allegations I can never escape - 'oh thats the local cryptid', 'its a creature, your honor', and 'I'm pretty sure you're just a corpse but okay.'

#poll blog #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x human #exophilia #monster smash or pass #smash or pass poll blog #tumblr polls #not a poll

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sightoru · 2 years

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Hey guys, I hate to have to make this post but moneys a bit tight due to moving and what have u but unfortunately, I am having some tooth pain at the moment and really need to see a dentist. I am an american (derogatory) and part of that, is dental care being seen as a luxury.

You can tip me thru my blog page, and anything over $5 will receive a drabble with a character of your choice from any of the fandoms i write with at least 1k words. these requests can be directed to my sideblog, @twdad

reblogs are very much appreciated, thanks guys.

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how-to-fail-at-ship-jumping-au · 3 months

Note

Can't make an anon blog right now (tumblr mobile (derogatory)) but hello from The Featherlights!

Ranboo deserves all the hugs they want/are comfortable with and also an infinite supply of their snack of choice

Yes they do!

#q&a

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depravitycentral · 11 months

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Yandere! Shouta Aizawa General Profile

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa x fem! reader Tw: yandere, kidnapping, stalking, voyeurism, mentions of assault, breaking and entering, mentions of neglect, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of dub-con, sexual toys, masturbation, derogatory language (not said by our wonderful feminist Shouta), fem! reader, MDNI

DARLING PROFILE:

Calm

Despite having tight friends who are much, much more energetic and easily excitable than himself, there’s a certain allure to steadiness and calmness that really calls to Aizawa.

Maybe it has to do with his tendency to be a bit low on sleep, or maybe it has to do with his own disposition - he isn’t sure, but he can’t deny the fact that a darling who isn’t constantly bursting with energy is something he would adore.

In order to catch his attention, his darling must be someone he is already comfortable with, and it’s much easier for Aizawa to let someone in if they’re more agreeable, less tiring, more his speed.

Of course, a healthy dose of excitement is something he would crave every once in a while from his partner, but to him the moments of blissful serenity, calm mornings spent in each other’s arms, peaceful nights spent sleeping or catching up on a good show or book mean more than daring, crazy adventures.

He wants to know that his darling will be rational, someone he can have a real conversation with, someone he can respect and trust.

A darling who is more calm and collected is much preferred for Aizawa, and with every situation that they handle efficiently without panicking, it only solidifies his view that his darling is utterly, completely perfect for him.

Smart

Aizawa himself is quite good at understanding and interpreting people, situations, and risks; he’s intelligent, and as a result he’s drawn to others that are similar in that way.

His darling doesn’t need to be a genius, or even someone familiar with the hero world - in fact, someone not associated with the messy, violent life of heroes would be preferred.

He just likes the idea of his darling being smart in their particular interests, of being curious and intelligent and always trying to improve their hobbies or areas of interest.

It once again stems from his want for a partner he can trust, can have logical, clean conversations with, and to say that knowing his darling can make their own informed choices (although Aizawa is quite reluctant to let them decide anything, if only because he knows that he has a better understanding of the world and his darling’s weaknesses) is a relief would be a massive understatement.

He doesn’t like to waste time on those who aren’t able to intellectually keep up with him, and while he’s never fault someone for being slower, he cannot handle ignorance.

His darling needs to be able to understand him, at least as much as they possibly can, and with every situation in which they show off this side of them, Aizawa honestly feels his heart fluttering in his chest.

His darling is just so wonderful, so perfect and amazing, that he literally wants to own them, to have his name claimed onto something so precious and rare.

Realistic

While Aizawa is, admittedly, a bit of a pessimist, he views himself more as someone who expects what’s most likely to happen.

He knows there are terrible people in the world, that things don’t always go the way they’re supposed to, that most of the time there are countless boundaries up against goals and dreams, and he’s simply preparing himself for the inevitable, so that if he turns out to be wrong he’s pleasantly surprised.

Pure optimism is something that Aizawa will never understand, and because of this he tends to prefer people who have more of an approach from the middle ground.

Of course, optimism isn’t a complete turn off for him, but he wants someone who approaches situations without those rose tinted glasses, who’s aware of how the world works and acts accordingly.

He’ll admit that he’s negative (Hizashi has told him as such, more times than he can count), but a darling that walks the fine line between too little confidence in the world and too much is immensely attractive to the underground hero.

He loves that his darling has such a clear, honest view of the world, and as a result he tends to favor his darling’s opinion over his, even if he believes his own is much more likely, much more truthful.

He’s entranced by his darling’s ability to remain honest about things, and he loves knowing they aren’t chasing far fetched ideals.

Aizawa believes his darling is the perfect mix of himself and other traits he wishes he possessed more of, and when his darling is so honest and realistic about the world around them, this only solidifies his view that his darling is so fucking perfect.

Nurturing

Although he acts as if he detests his students at times, Aizawa does genuinely want his kids to succeed, to become pros and tap into their full potential.

He wouldn’t have become a teacher if he didn’t enjoy watching others grow, and he looks for this in a partner as well.

While he isn’t necessarily intent on having any children of his own (although he can’t deny the rush of possessiveness and pleasure that courses through him at the idea of knocking up his beloved), a darling who possesses the ability to care for, nurture and love others is something he deems as a necessity.

He has a quiet kind of support for others; unwavering honesty in their abilities and themselves, and while he views his own methods of nurturing others as productive and useful, a darling who has more of a mainstream approach pulls at his heartstrings.

Aizawa, despite his more rugged and apathetic appearance, has a massive soft spot for people who are just genuinely nice - when he sees the way his darling so easily comforts and helps others feel relevant, at ease, it only furthers his protective instincts, pushes him to believe that his darling needs to be cared for and protected at all times.

And really, who else can do such an important and time consuming task besides himself?

Only he is capable of being the hero his darling needs.

He can be everything they need after all, if they just give him the chance.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Lucid

First and foremost, Aizawa is completely aware that the feelings brewing in his chest for you are far from normal.

He, despite having limited experience in romance and relationships, is completely positive that the degree to which he loves you, that the pure need and desperation that you inspire within him is very much not the standard, that there’s very much something wrong with him.

He’s sure that wanting to keep you trapped in his basement, keeping you completely alone and dependent on him so that the only person who will ever get to see you is him, is wrong.

He’s sure that the devotion and intense obsession he’s harboring for you makes him nothing sort of a creepy stalker, a freak that doesn’t deserve to have something as wonderful as a relationship with you.

Aizawa hates the fact that you make him this way, and while he tries to resist the descent of his feelings at first, he eventually just gives up. It hurts to not see you, to be away from you for long periods of time, so much so that he feels actual physical pain when he hasn’t laid eyes on you in the last twelve hours.

It makes his head spin to repress thoughts of you, feeling like he’s about to burst with every thought he shoves to the side, trying instead to focus on the book in his hands or the papers he’s grading.

He grows physical symptoms of heartbreak with every attempt to discard his feelings for you, and eventually he’ll stop trying.

There’s just something about you that he can’t let go of, no matter how badly he wants to be sane again, normal again - of course, he doesn’t blame you in the slightest; it’s not your fault that you render him a completely lovesick fool, that you inspire such intense need within his chest.

It’s not your fault he’s following you home every night, waiting and watching through your window as you wash your hair, cook yourself dinner, as you snuggle up in your warm bed that he’d give anything to be in with you.

It’s not your fault that he’s spending his every waking moment on either hero work or you, not willing to dismiss his hero duties but spending every waking moment he has free focused on you you you.

Aizawa has come to terms with the fact that his feelings for you likely make him a monster, that he’s no better than some petty criminal for stalking you, for obtaining every scrap of information he can get on you from public and not so public resources.

He’s disgusted with himself, if he’s being completely honest - it’s so fucking wrong for him to be so invested in you when it’s obvious you aren’t returning the weight of his feelings, though there’s a part of him desperately clutching onto the idea that you harbor some kind of romantic feelings for him, that you find him attractive or caring or strong.

(The thought of you complimenting him makes him uncomfortably mushy inside - it gets his cheeks reddening and his throat feeling scratchy, his palms growing wet and his weight shifting from one leg to another, your voice ringing in his head telling him he’s so handsome and strong, that he’s your dream man, that you’ve been dreaming of kissing you for so long, would you please?)

It’s so unfair that someone as kind, normal, innocent as you has to deal with someone waiting outside their window every night, hiding in the shadows and barely able to refrain from reaching a palm down to work at his trousers as he watches you writhe around on your bed, eyes squeezed closed while your thighs twitch as the vibrator between your fingers works its wonders.

It’s cruel irony that you have to worry about protecting yourself from him, the man who’s sworn to keep you safe for the rest of his life.

You make him a villain, really - and as much as it makes him hate himself even more, Aizawa knows that even as wrong as it is, he’ll never be able to stop.

Protective

Although he seems apathetic and uncaring towards others and their well beings at first glance, Aizawa became a pro hero for a reason - not the fame or gold or glory, but rather because he genuinely wants to help others, to keep them safe.

And where you’re concerned, this natural drive is only increased astronomically, to the point where Aizawa is prioritizing your health and safety over everything else, everyone else, including himself.

He’d never be able to forgive himself if something were to happen to you, if he were to allow you to be injured, kidnapped, raped, or, heaven forbid, killed, and as a result he feels that he needs to keep an eye on you constantly, just in case some piece of shit decides to come along and test him.

He’s literally had nightmares about you being harmed by a villain; the image of you bloodied and battered, your lovely hair that has the most heavenly smell all roughed up, your eyes red, ugly bruises blooming across your delicate skin.

He always wakes those nights with a small scream, his heart pounding and tears running down his cheeks, if only because it feels so real, as if you were really in front of him crying and begging for him to save me, please please please Aizawa don’t let me die!

(He really can’t stop himself from heading to your home as quickly as possible those nights, his breathing rugged and uneven until he sees you sleeping peacefully through your window, safe and sound in your bed. He lets out a deep breath and lets a rare, oddly sincere smile creep across his lips, his thumb coming up to press against the window glass, slowly rubbing it along the material as if it were your cheek.)

Being so obsessed with your health is unhealthy and he knows it, but he really can’t stop himself - he’s making sure his patrol lines up perfectly with the times he knows you frequent the outside world, making sure the zones he’s supposed to be mostly in charge of always include your home, your workplace, anywhere you could be when he can’t keep an eye on you.

He can’t slack off on hero work even with his obsession growing stronger by the day, and so he enlists every possible resource to keep you safe and under constant surveillance.

He was nervous to do it at first, worried his longtime friend would call him out for his morally askew behavior, but Hizashi was more than happy to drop by your apartment every once in a while when long shifts or extensive teaching days keep Aizawa away from you.

(The blond was, of course, a bit shocked to hear that his best friend had found someone that got his heart racing, someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with - Aizawa’s words - but was more than eager to help out, willing to do pretty much anything to keep that smile on the man’s face.)

Aizawa, despite his conscious initially telling him not to, even ventures inside your home in the name of upkeep your safety, making sure to change your sheets or keep your refrigerator stocked with healthy, good foods.

(He’s especially concerned about your diet - he knows you eat like shit, and he absolutely cannot have you sustain a poor diet; you need to be eating a good balance of vegetables, protein and whole grains, and if you’re missing something? Well, having two jobs certainly comes in handy when he’s buying carts full of food at the grocery store for you, spending his hard earned money to make sure that you’re taken care of.)

He’s even going so far as to make sure that your feminine products you throw away in the small trash can in your bathroom are the right color, the right consistency, the right everything - your vaginal health is important, and he absolutely will bring your discarded tampon up to his nose, take a few deep whiffs, just to make sure everything is as it should be.

In all honesty, Aizawa is your guardian angel - you mean everything to him, and he genuinely believes that in return for being such an obsessed creep towards you, the least he can do is devote his time and energy into making sure that you’re as safe as can be.

So yes, he’s your guardian angel, but just remember - guardian angels see every little thing you do.

Stalker

Aizawa swears it’s not out of any ill harm; he isn’t following you around town because he’s waiting to pounce, to hold a knife to your throat or to pin you against a dirty, damp alleyway wall and have his way with you.

He’s not laying in wait to catch you vulnerable or alone, holding ill intent and wanting to use you for some sick fantasy of his.

(At least, not the kind that most men who follow women have - there’s much less screaming in his fantasies, or at least screaming from terror and pain.)

He’d never hurt you like that - you’re too precious to him, too literally the purpose of his entire existence for him to ever consider doing something to you out of ill intent.

He’s only stalking you because he needs to make sure you’re safe, because he knows that without him being constantly vigilant when it comes to your safety and presence, you’d likely be dead.

There’s all kinds of despicable people in this world, people that would take one look at you and decide you’re their next victim, the next pretty little thing that needs to be tainted, destroyed and used in order to prove a point.

And really, that’s Aizawa’s nightmare - so when he’s trailing behind you on the busy streets of Musutafu, the night air nipping at his lungs while he shoves his face further into his scarf, his hands clenched in fists in his pant pockets, just know that no, the man following your every step won’t so much as lay a finger on you.

It’s likely that you’ll never even notice him, that you won’t ever be aware that a grown man has been stalking you for months - he’s just too good at staying in the shadows, at making sure that his presence goes unnoticed by you.

He’s light on his feet, silent and quick, able to keep those dark eyes fixed on your figure but staying perfectly out of sight, almost as if he was simply made to watch you, as if it’s his sole purpose to look out for you without you ever knowing.

And frankly, Aizawa is beyond grateful that you’ve never noticed him; he doesn’t know how he’d ever be able to man up to the fact that yes, he knows exactly how you look when you’re peacefully sleeping without a care in the world, that he knows the way you talk to yourself more when you think you’re alone, that he knows what you look like as you cry out incoherently, eyebrows drawn taught as your body convulses from the pleasure you’re giving yourself.

He won’t ever deny it, as lying about it would be another level of wrong that Aizawa, even as morally compromised as you make him, will never be, but he won’t openly admit it either.

It would be too embarrassing, too mortifying and heartbreaking to see the way your eyes would get all glassy and big, fear setting into your expression as you back away from him, on the verge of tears as you tell him to get away from me, please!

He doesn’t think he could take it; your blatant rejection of him, of everything he does for you - it would destroy him, send him even further into his shell, even more withdrawn.

So really, as you live ignorant of the fact that a pair of warm, chocolate orbs are staring at you from the corner of your window as you work on yet another dull project your boss is forcing you into, just know that Aizawa isn’t especially proud.

He’s not proud of the way his heart nearly beats out of his chest when you look out the window, when the fear that you’ve finally caught him rolls through him.

He’s not proud of the way his breath hitches when he sees you humming and gliding across your kitchen, hands flying as you make yourself dinner, his imagination all too easily conjuring up the image of you in a little apron, making two portions, setting the table and calling out to him that dinner’s ready, Aizawa!

He isn’t proud that it helps him sleep to watch you fall asleep, your cute little face nearly obscured by all those sheets and blankets you pull up in the winter, the way your expression melts into pure relaxation and calmness as you drift into slumber making him relax too, making him imagine the way it would feel for you to fall asleep in his arms.

He’s not proud of the way his eyes grow wide, a violent flush spreading across his cheeks as he watches the way you grind your hips against the toy, your lip caught between your teeth as you shake and tremble and spasm, his own cock straining desperately against his pants.

He’s not proud of any of it, but he’ll endure it. Really, he’ll endure fucking anything for you, just to see that perfect smile of yours, the one that makes him think that maybe, just maybe, becoming the lovesick, disgusting monster he is now was all worth it.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

In all honesty, jealousy isn’t something that Aizawa has to deal with that much; of course, he doesn’t like when guys come up to you, when they talk to you and put their filthy hands on your shoulders, over your own hand, or even on your waist if they’re feeling brave enough, but generally he won’t directly intervene.

He knows you don’t belong to him, that he has no real say in what you can or can’t do at this point, but he can’t deny the way utter and complete terror courses through him at the prospect that the man smiling at you so incessantly could be a villain, a thug just waiting to get you vulnerable and ready to be taken advantage of.

His protectiveness over you is quite honestly overwhelming – he’s so concerned for your safety, hyper fixating on your wellbeing so much that it forces him to neglect his own self-care even more, until every ounce of energy outside of patrol times is spent completely on you.

Every free moment is spent watching your every move, keeping an eye on you from the shadows with the excuse that he’s just preemptively keeping you safe.

Every moment is spent caring for you so that nothing can possibly hurt you, his mind constantly whirring so that nothing could lay a single finger on you with ill intent.

It’s like an itch that he can’t scratch - there’s this feeling of bubbling rage below the surface, eating away at him as he watches with narrowed dark eyes at the way you awkwardly laugh while the man who bumped into you in the coffee shop apologizes, making some lame pick up line that has Aizawa’s fist clenching in anger.

How fucking dare that man try and touch you?

Like you’re some common, average person, like you aren’t the literal light of Aizawa’s life?

He’s pissed, and while jealousy isn’t the primary feeling rushing through his veins (that spot is taken by anger, followed very closely by fear for your well being), he can’t just let the man get away with something so blatantly wrong, something that really should require the Erasure hero’s attention - so, while he isn’t proud, Aizawa does what he has to do in order to make sure you’re completely out of harm’s way.

He’s always hated it when you walked while looking at your phone – too many opportunities for you to get hurt, to stumble and fall, to run into something, to just be generally unaware of your surroundings.

It makes him yearn to yank the stupid little screen out of your hands, to tuck you under his arm and escort you wherever you need to go – you should be headed to the supermarket, according to the schedule he’s memorized.

He’ll watch you buy a few vegetables, followed by much too many sweets, carbs, things he knows you know better than to eat, and yet you still do. He’s watching from the alleyway, the dark shadows letting him hide as his eyes stay fixed on your figure, unwilling to let you out of his sight for even a second.

His work as an underground hero has never come more in handy than when he’s following you, keeping a safe distance to make sure that you don’t notice him, but his cover is threatened to blow up the second he notices that man eyeing you up, the smirk crossing onto his features making Aizawa’s blood boil.

He’s on the other side of the street, this man, dressed head to toe in an outfit that immediately screams danger to Aizawa; a pressed dress shirt with a rather boring red tie, black slacks and scuffed up dress shoes, with way too much gel in his hair.

The briefcase in his hand bobs a bit as he adjusts his grip, gaze visibly traveling up and down your form as you cross the crosswalk.

Aizawa’s gripping at his scarf tightly, knuckles turning white from the force, the sense of impending doom slowly eating away at him.

And yet, he knows he can’t do anything until the man does something - until eh approaches you, until he touches you or insults you or hurts you -

The hero’s teeth are clenched, eyes narrowed, and he watches with baited breath as the man crosses the street (jaywalking, a crime that Aizawa could, technically, bust him for, but that would cause issues with local police and not be worth the hassle, even if it would get the man away from you), practically swaggering up to you with a smarmy smirk spread across his thin lips.

You still haven’t noticed him yet, eyes still glued to your phone, and for a moment the man seems discouraged that you haven’t noticed the way he’s fallen in step with you, roughly two feet away from your form.

He clears his throat and you peek at him from the side of your eyes, face visibly confused at why this stranger is looking at you.

He opens his mouth, some variation of hey cutie falling past his lips, and Aizawa sucks in a breath in both anger and worry. Would you like this man? Would you like his smooth confidence, the fact that he looks like he works in a bank, that he’s wearing enough cologne for Aizawa to smell ten feet away?

It’s insecurity and he knows it, a stupid voice in the back of his head, and yet he can’t help himself - which is why he suddenly feels like he can breath when you grimace and look back at your phone, walking a bit faster to get away from the man.

You don’t want him. Good.

Aizawa takes a moment to mentally praise you, happy that you’re standing up for yourself, before following even closer, watching to see what this creep will do next.

The man doesn’t take your obvious dismissal kindly, his face contorting into something ugly, and he angrily adjusts his tie.

Hey bitch, he growls, getting even closer to you, aren’t you a little too ugly to be so damn uptight?

And suddenly Aizawa’s seeing red, swooping in before he can even think.

His hands are on the man’s shoulder in seconds, pushing him to the side and staring with dark, enraged eyes that get the stranger staggering back, a small prick of fear dancing in his posture. Harassing women is a crime, you know.

Aizawa starts, and at this point you’ve turned around, watching with wide eyes as your friend (a loose term, but one you like to employ for your relationship with the dark haired hero) stares down the creep.

For a moment you’re confused, distantly wondering how and why Aizawa is here, but as the man scoffs and spits at the ground, muttering a damn heroes under his breath, the thought dies quickly.

Aizawa watches as the man turns around and stomps off, the weight of his gaze causing the man to quicken his pace, and after he’s a good thirty feet away, he merely sighs, his scarf coming back down around his shoulders as he turns to you.

He asks if you’re okay, and you blink but nod, smiling a bit at him and pocketing your phone.

Yeah, I’m good… thanks, Shouta.

He stiffens a bit at his name, swallowing harshly before nodding. He’s about to leave (retreating to the shadows, like always), but your voice stops him.

Since you’re my knight in shining armor, can I repay you with some tea or coffee?

A small dusting of pink settles across the bridge of his nose at your words, and before he can even think he’s muttering an agreement, letting you lead him to some coffee shop nearby that he knows you frequent.

He knows your order, even mouthing the words to himself as you tell the cashier, but when you sit down and tell him about your day in the cozy, dimly lit shop, Aizawa finds himself sighing, deciding that maybe he doesn’t need to chase down and intimidate that creep after all .

Or, at least, it can wait until you finish telling him about work yesterday.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because of Aizawa’s lucidity in terms of his feelings for you, kidnapping you is something that is absolutely the very last resort for him, only something he would do if there was absolutely no other possible option, no other choice that wouldn’t result in your death or severe injury.

The idea of doing something without your consent like that - forcing you to essentially end the life you’re currently living in favor of being trapped in his home - is something that doesn’t settle quite right in his stomach.

He would never be able to forgive himself if he were to take you away, and he could never even try to pretend that what he’s done is right, moral, heroic.

That said, Aizawa lets his paranoia regarding you get the better of him all to often, and so under the right circumstances, Aizawa could feel backed into a corner, where the only possible option is to indeed steal you away.

He’ll be desperately searching for any other option, hating himself as the idea stands alone as the only choice, but when the villain in front of him has you gagged and trapped in his arms with a gun pointed out towards the ebony haired man, he’ll start panicking.

And when the scum holding you says how he managed to find out that you were the famous Eraserhead’s weakness, his blood goes cold.

His fingers itch to move when the man says that he’d seen him spend all those hours stalking you, watching you endlessly, that he’d told his subordinates, that even if Aizawa kills him now, they’ll keep coming until they kill you.

There’s nothing more I can do, he’ll tell himself as he disarms the villain and knocks him unconscious, watching as you look at him in fear and try to run away after the news of him stalking you comes to light.

And really, it kills Aizawa to see you looking so terrified, flinching and screaming as he wraps you in his scarf and carries you bridal style through the dark, cold city streets, but he’s resigned to the fact that while you may hate your new life and him, you’ll be better off under his care rather than still out in the real world, where villains would keep coming and never stopping until you’re splattered brains on a sidewalk.

Aizawa is arguably the best captor to have in the entirety of the My Hero Academia universe - he’s so painfully aware of how wrong it is to have you locked in his apartment, how evil it is to make you stay so completely dependent on him, and as a result he tries his absolute best to respect you as much as he can.

He’s given you an entire room to yourself, setting you up with as many things as he can recover from your old room, the things he’s seen you use most.

Your same bed will be there, along with the sheets, pillows and blankets intact and neatly arranged for your comfort.

All of the clothes he could fit in the closet are also present, along with a chest of drawers for your more… intimate items.

He’s got your favorite foods (his own healthier options are there, too - because even though the guilt he feels is overwhelming now, he still won’t have your health deteriorate), and while it absolutely kills him to give you the ability to access things like knives, razors, sharp and dangerous tools, he’s begrudgingly letting you.

(At least, until the first time you hurt yourself, in which case he will revoke that privilege in a heartbeat.)

It’s all in an effort to get you hating him less, to make you as happy as you possibly can be, because at the end of the day Aizawa truly, truly loves you.

You’re wonderful to him, a motivation to keep risking his life and teaching younger generations, a motivation to keep living, now that he has someone to live for.

He’s generally pretty respectful of your rights and desires (aside from the fact that you can’t walk out the front door, of course), but the kind, lenient captor you get when you first wake up in his modest, fairly clean apartment is not who you’ll continue to see if you begin being ungrateful, begin throwing tantrums and acting out as a means to anger him or rile him up.

Of course, he doesn’t blame you for being scared the first few weeks, for having a few breakdowns here and there because for fuck’s sake he kidnapped you – he’d be more worried if you didn’t freak out, but at a certain point the hero will begin to grow tired of your outbursts, disappointed in your childish behavior for something that he’s said time and time again won’t be changing.

Years of teaching has molded Aizawa into someone who is ruthlessly able to correct poor behavior, to instill a sense of fear that forces others to stop making stupid decisions.

And where you’re concerned, these natural traits shine brightly - the minute you start swinging at him, hissing and calling him such terrible names, his mouth is pressing into a thin line, his brows drawn taught as he stares at you, waiting for you to apologize and stop acting like such a brat.

He’s a forgiving captor, as long as you don’t cause any trouble - he only took you to keep you safe, and he won’t have you undermining his efforts by being reckless and childish once you’re trapped with him.

He feels guilty, but only to a certain extent - you’re a grown woman, and while Aizawa often treats you as if you were no more than a toddler, he expects you to act your age.

And, quite honestly, as selfish as it is, there’s a part of Aizawa that is devastated beyond words when you repeatedly refuse him, when you reject his kind words and gifts, when you tell him he’s a monster, a disgusting excuse for a hero, because hasn’t he spent the last few weeks giving you space, cooking you your favorite meals, having the patience of a goddamn saint?

Why are you being so ungrateful?

Does he not do enough for you?

Maybe he’ll have to start spoiling you more, making you happier, getting you more of those stupid plushies or your favorite movies - anything to get you to look at him and smile.

Anything to get you looking at him with love, with joy or longing because god does he love your smile and god is he desperate to see you laugh and tell him you love him and please please please he needs you to love him so fucking bad please -

So really, just be his good girl, because that’s all Aizawa wants.

PUNISHMENTS:

In all honesty, punishing you is something Aizawa fucking hates.

He derives no pleasure out of mocking you, out of making you purposefully miserable and seeing your teary, pained face – if anything, it’s something he actively tries to avoid, his poor heart clenching so harshly in his chest at the sight that he physically winces and grasps at the area.

He doesn’t like making you upset or any other negative emotion, but while this desire to keep you safe and happy and smiling is strong, it’s outweighed by the desire to keep you in line every single time.

It’s natural, in a way, for him to be discipling you – it’s his job, and while he very much doesn’t think of you like his students, some of the habits he’s acquired over the years die hard.

(Aizawa wants to throw up at the mere mention of doing the things he wants to do to you with anyone else – he most certainly does not want to pin anyone but you down and fuck them until they’re crying or eat them out until they’re a squirting, incoherent mess, or stuffing them to the brim with his cum, so much so that they’re leaking it out and making a sticky mess between their thighs. No one but you.)

And so, while he does genuinely wish for you to grow to love him, he knows that he needs to present himself as the dominant one in the relationship, the one whose word is law – and if doing so means making you cry or be even more afraid of him, he’ll begrudgingly do so.

He hates every moment of it, but he knows it’ll be worth it once you finally decide to stop ramming yourself at the front door in efforts of bringing it down, that you’ll finally stop digging around for the bottles of sleeping pills you know Aizawa keeps hidden around for nights when the guilt and stress of kidnapping you and being a hero eat him alive.

He just wants you to behave, and in all honesty it isn’t even you behaving for him – it’s for you, so that you stay safe and healthy and pristine, the exact reasoning behind why he stole you away in the first place.

He’s conditioning you to stay unharmed, and while you may not see it that way now (the crying and screaming about how he’s a sick monster, a fucking perverted freak who belongs rotting behind bars tell him everything he needs to know about your feelings on the matter), Aizawa is sure that with time you’ll eventually mellow out, that one day you might even come to understand why he’s so fiercely protective over you and so quick to punish you where you’re wrong – it’s out of love.

Even if it’s twisted, obsessive, wrong, it’s still love, something Aizawa never wants to let go of.

With that being said, Aizawa still absolutely refuses to physically harm you.

His whole reasoning for stealing you away, for plucking you up and out of your old life to stay with him irrevocably was all based upon the premise of keeping you safe, of making sure that you never lay victim to an accident, a villain, or even your own stupid decisions.

Aizawa wants you to be completely protected, and even the thought of raising a hand to you makes him wince, the idea bringing a sharp pain in his chest.

And so, he resorts to other methods to make sure that you understand what the exact behavior he’s trying to correct is – that is, relying on methods that are a bit more psychological.

He doesn’t manipulate you, as lying to you and twisting around your understanding of the world seems downright cruel to the underground hero.

The last thing he wants is for you to lose any sense of trust in him you may still be clinging to, and for the most part he wants you to remain yourself, unchanged and perfect and so very wonderful.

He fell in love with you, after all, and he has no sick fantasies of changing you, or molding you into another version of yourself. But when you’re crying and punching your already bruised and bloodied knuckles against the non-shattering, one way glass of the window in your bedroom, Aizawa knows that he needs to take action.

And so, the tray of food he’d brought for you (a can of warm soup, a glass of water and some crackers, as he knew your throat was still a bit sore from all the crying you’d done the day earlier) gets set down on your dresser, the dark haired man sighing with a small, genuine frown as he carefully walks behind you, wrapping his arms around you and demobilizing you while you thrash and kick around, yelling and cursing at him to let me go, fucking let me leave you sick fuck!

The words sting, his normally dry eyes feeling a bit damp at the way your insults seem to stab and poke at his heart, but it doesn’t stop him from carrying you down to the basement, the dark and cold area having quickly become one of your least favorite, most nightmarish locations.

Immediately you’re freezing up, realizing what’s about to happen, and though the compliments and sugar coated lies of how you’re so sorry, I don’t know what got into me, I promise I didn’t mean it! are nice to hear (and, if he tries hard enough, he can almost believe them), he can’t let himself falter now, lest you figure out his weakness when it comes to you and exploit it.

No, instead he’s setting his jaw, dark hair falling forward to hide his face as he carefully sets you onto the ground, watching as you reach out and clutch onto his pant leg, fingers trembling while you sob about how you don’t want to be left down here again, in the dark and cold and dirt, but Aizawa is merely staring down at you, before crouching down and running a thumb along your cheekbone.

You have to understand that your actions have consequences, (f/n). I’m not doing this for fun, I’m doing this so that you realize that you’re only hurting yourself when you act out like a child. I’ll be back soon, just wait patiently. Maybe next time you won’t be so quick to be such a brat.

And with that, he’s up and shutting the door behind him, the resounding click of the lock filling the empty space as the darkness hangs over you, the cold seeping into every inch of your body.

It’s a long two days – a small glass of water and a single apple slice is sent to you daily, no light or contact with anyone at all, not even Aizawa himself.

It’s just you and the grimy, slightly moist ground of the basement, time seeming to last forever as you wait and wait for him to eventually return.

And when he does, immediately you’re upon him, apologizing and crying and promising that you’ll never do anything bad again, just please please please never put me back down here, I’ll do anything, anything at all!

And while it’s a bit pathetic to see you groveling and crying so shamelessly, Aizawa only pulls you into his chest, soothing you and running his hand along the back of your head in comforting motions.

You’ll be treated like a princess for the rest of the day – the warmth, food and attention that your captor gives you suddenly feels like the most heavenly thing, as if you’d never been happier, as if Aizawa was the only one who could give you this intense of a relief and relaxation.

He isn’t especially proud of his methods, but as you start calming down, acting out less and less, he can’t pretend to not be pleased with the results – after all, he just wants to get to the point of you being somewhat happy, of you not wanting to kill yourself and him every moment of every day.

Progress is slow, but for you, Aizawa is nothing if not patient.

OVERALL DANGER:

5/10

In all honesty, Aizawa is a pretty mild yandere – he has no intentions of hurting you or imprisoning you unless necessary, and he has no delusions about the moral misguidance of his feelings for you.

He knows the way he loves you is fucked up, that how he expresses his emotions for you is questionable at best, and while he hates himself for it he just can’t stop. You’re too important to him, you mean too much.

You make him too happy, make him feel warm and fuzzy, this swollen feeling in his chest that makes his muscles relax, his eyelids get heavy, his arms feeling empty without you in them.

Because of you, he suddenly doesn’t feel so detached and bitter - like a whole new man, he could even say.

It’s pathetic and he feels like some creepy, villainous freak because of it, but he can’t help himself from watching you, from looking out for you at every turn.

Your biggest obstacle with Aizawa will be his overprotectiveness – his sole purpose in life becomes keeping you safe, dedicating as much of his time as he can to making sure not a single scratch befalls your pretty, perfect body, that not a single hair on your head is so much as touched by someone with any hint of an ill intent.

He’s maniacal in his dedication to your safety and health, and while stealing you away isn’t something he particularly wants to do, at least under his care you won’t be physically harmed.

You’ll be given space for the most part, and a general sense of peace because god, Aizawa would do anything and everything in order to keep you smiling, to keep you happy and healthy and so very radiant.

He loves you, and while he hates himself for it, he knows that he’ll never stop loving you.

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #_lee's profiles #_bnha #_shouta aizawa #yandere aizawa #yandere shouta aizawa

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