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earthtooz · 11 months

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x : BANDAGED HEART :*+ﾟ

in which: blade finds out you're injured and can't contain his anger.

warnings: gn!reader x protective!blade, fluff, mentions of blood and injuries, 'who did this to you?' trope with blade LOL, slight manhandling, did i mention that he's protective?

a/n: blade debut, omg? this sucks btw but this was inspired by this comic that i saw the other day :> it just reminded me that the 'who did this to you' trope existed and i went YES and took my own spin onto it so, i hope you enjoy!

the smell of antiseptic wafts heavily through the air, bandages sit tightly rolled beside you, and you hiss at the sting of the antibacterial ointment slathered over the open wound on your arm.

it hurts.

blinking the tears away and gritting your teeth to bear with the pain, you reach for the unused roll, clumsily unravelling them with shaking hands and a blurring vision.

“oi.” a raspy voice from behind catches you off guard and you turn around from where you’ve seated yourself in the corner of the medical wing, having helped yourself to a supply of ointment and bandages.

a familiar swordsman and fellow coworker towers above you, glowering at you through the streaks of his bangs. maybe if you weren’t on the verge of fainting, you’d have the energy to fear him.

“oh, it’s just you,” you mutter, “can i help you?”

his eyes glance you up and down, as if scanning you for any indication of misadventure. feeling uneasy under the intensity of his gaze, you return to trying to rip the bandages with bare hands since you had not brought scissors or even a blade with you in your haste.

feeling the blood from your wound drip down your arm and onto the floor beneath you, you cringe, hurrying up so you don’t make a mess. this whole patching-yourself-up-thing should have been easy, but without something sharp and half your strength evaporated after a gruesome mission, it was much harder than usual.

the growing frustration you were feeling was not offering much aid either, and with blade practically towering over you, you try not to let your fluctuating anger overwhelm you.

aeons, it was as if you were sent on this mission with elio praying for your downfall. you’re lucky that you managed to get out with only a scratch on your arm and a missing weapon. it’s going to be hard finding a replacement for it, but when you just looked death in the face, you can’t say you have much to complain about that a weapon was the only thing you lost.

suddenly, two hands sneak underneath your arms to lift you up, breaking your train of thought with a tight, unforgiving grip as you’re effortlessly placed onto a hospital bed right beside you. meeting the ruby eyes of the swordsman, your breath lodges uncomfortably in your throat, and you have to rip your gaze away from him; the intensity would paralyse you otherwise.

“where are you hurt?” he asks, sounding more like a demand than a question.

“i can do it myself,” you grumble. blade takes the bandage out of your hands, holding back your wrist that instinctively reached out to grab it back. the glare he shoots you from the corner of his eye placates any complaint you have.

“show me.”

reluctantly, you present your injured arm. he mutters a very quick and quiet ‘stay here’ before stalking off. a faucet is turned on, water begins running from a nearby sink, and blade returns with a wet cloth.

grabbing your wounded arm, he cleans around the area, rubbing the blood that has trickled down your arm as well. he’s scarily gentle with you, attentive to your every wince and hiss, halting momentarily every time you let a noise slip.

he makes quick work of patching you up, flawless and effortless in his technique. makes sense, you suppose, since he is covered in these.

you wonder how many times he’s had to do this on himself. a small part of your heart aches thinking about it.

“thank you,” you whisper when he’s done, gratitude silently swirling inside you. grabbing the bandages and cloth, you slide off onto your feet. “i’ll put these away.”

stepping in front of you, his body intercepts your path and you’re pressed against the bed, frozen under him. there’s an indescribable look of fury in his eyes, his red eyes seeming even angrier than usual.

“what happened?” he asks.

you have hold yourself up, suddenly weak in the knees. “just a typical mission, it’s nothing you should worry about.”

the fellow stellaron hunter does not look satisfied with your response. “what do you mean ‘nothing you should worry about’? who did this to you?” he asks, punctuating each word with a dark expression.

“blade- please, can we not talk about this right now?” you mutter, “i’m tired and i just want to sleep.”

he narrows his eyes. “who. hurt. you?”

“why? what can you do about it now?”

“kill them.”

you scoff. “yeah, right.”

blade wedges a leg between yours, hindering your escape even further by leaning himself closer to you. “i’m serious.”

“so am i. if you’re thinking about hunting them down, then please, don’t bother. let it go.” you mutter.

“but you got hurt.”

“i get hurt all the time.”

his brows scrunch together, a small indication of the dangerous protectiveness growing within him. you interrupt his train of thoughts, placing a brave hand on his chest; right over his heart. ‘i’m fine. you don’t need to worry about me.”

“i’m not worried,” he grumbles lowly.

“oh. i see.”

he grabs your hand and takes it away from his chest, holding you gently. “i’m angry that you got hurt.”

you’re speechless, blinking at the swordsman who raises your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. it feels like a promise- not that you know what said promise is, but with that look in his eyes, you know it’s not a peaceful one.

“so why don’t you tell me the truth? who did this to you?”

the answer slips past your lips before you can help it and when the words are spilled, a creeping guilt invades you. whatever he’s planning, you know that bloodshed will follow.

“see, that wasn’t so hard.”

in a blink of an eye, blade is gone, taking the intense pressure with him. he left so quickly that you wonder if he was ever here to begin with. the lingering brush of his lips is the only indication that he was not a figment of your half-aware conscious.

#blade x reader #blade hsr x reader #ren x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn!reader #blade x gn!reader #blade fluff #blade x reader fluff

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lorelune · 3 months

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bathtime

|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 5.1k || ao3 || previous + next ->

Even the best bath water will find it difficult to cleanse 'sin'.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c welcome to part 3 of the architect-verse :3cc been cooking on this one for awhile 🙏 yandere blade is such a guy and scummy manipulative mommy kafka is so fun to write :3ccc thank you for beloved @ofmermaidstories for doing a read through on this one 🥺♥!! enjoy enjoy enjoy 💓

CW: dark content, yandere blade, captive/pet reader, discussions of noncon, references to past noncon on blade while he was underage and as an adult, references to past noncon on reader, use of the word rape, violence/thoughts of violence, past yingxing/dan feng, toxic blade/kafka

It’s normal for Blade to return to the Stellaron Hunters’ main vessel covered in assorted types of gore. Scraps of rent flesh, smears of blood, bile, scales— tendons and sinew wrapped under his forearms, clinging from the pressure of impact light-years away. The smell of it clings to him, still fresh, just barely beginning to rot. He stews in it during his typical return in small, covert starships. He half-suffocates with the stench of death.

This is typical. Blade does not carry any opinion about it. If anything, he welcomes the potential of asphyxiation, though it never comes.

Most routinely, Kafka will greet him as he returns and take him to clean up. Occasionally, when she is indisposed, Silver Wolf will be forced to hose him down in the communal gym shower or Sam will dunk him in the bath by the scruff of his neck. Blade does not... particularly enjoy the latter two options. Though he isn't sure entirely why, and he doesn't tend to dwell on it either.

When Kafka collects him, it is easier, if nothing else. Less fuss, less grimacing over the smell of burgeoning rot and complaining that Blade should do this prior to arriving home. Blade doesn't care about the other Stellaron Hunters’ complaints, not really, but it does make the ordeal longer than it needs to be.

(And maybe, maybe, he does not like being drenched in bone-chilling water and soaked clothing. He hates it.)

Kafka will lead Blade back to her own room, strip him, and give him a warm bath. Frequently, she’ll take off her own clothing and join him. She’ll hold him close, his back to her front. Kafka likes when she is able to cow him into resting against her front, cow him into resting his cheek against her breasts while she scrubs away the worst of the grime.

Never mind that they share the same, red-tinged bathwater.

(Occasionally, things escalate. Touch that volleys between innocent and clinical and sexual. Kafka will stroke down the planes of his body, reach for his cock, and bring him to release. It’s— it's nice. He thinks. He can't tell.)

It's hard to tell anything in the steam of the bath. Though Kafka's presence renders his mara mute, proximity makes it writhe regardless. It is not a soundless beast, though it loses its words. Muddy feelings, rather than anything clear cut. It's a reprieve regardless.

This is why Blade prefers to be cleaned by Kafka.

...

This mission, however, Blade receives a text from Kafka during his return journey that she will be out. Along with Silver Wolf. And that Sam is charging and shouldn't be disturbed.

However—

Kafka:

why don't you see if our little stray is up for a bath, bladie?

There's a thought. One Blade hadn't considered.

(There's a whisper of a refusal in the back of his mind. 'No'. Blade is not sure why. It is quiet but sure of itself.)

Blade:

When will you be back.

Kafka:

tomorrow. don't wait up until then. listen, just ask.

Kafka's mind weaving does not work over text. But it is, regardless, difficult to resist her command. This is habit.

Blade idles outside of your room. He has dripped mess across the vessel and left little piles of flesh and muscle in his wake. The quiet sound of blood splattering against the floor (his, maybe, though his regeneration should be almost complete) makes him aware of this.

It feels uncouth to enter your room like this.

Blade shakes himself off and leaks scarlet droplets against the metal paneling. methodically, he releases the five locks on your door. Each clicks when fully disarmed, and by the time Blade enters, you're already looking up at the door, eyes wide.

You're tucked into bed with a soft blanket over your lap. A tablet (a gift from silver wolf at Kafka's behest. For 'good behavior'. Not connected to any internet, but you've told Blade it helps pass the time.)

The device is promptly forgotten as you push yourself out of bed, "Aeons, Blade, what happened? Are you hurt?"

You approach him with no caution. It's reckless. It's foolish, especially with this much adrenaline tumbling around between his eyes and in his veins. He has the distinct urge to shove you away and into the floor. Compress you until you break and bleed and bleed and break.

Blade does not.

Instead, he lets you flit around him. He lets you draw your own conclusions.

You are not foolish. You know he is dangerous; he knows you know this. It is your... good nature that creases the surely-soft skin between your brows. It's your kindness that has you frazzled, shaking in your hands as you hover over him. Searching for wounds that are mostly healed.

"Blade, I said, are you hurt?" You ask, voice strained, bent at the waist while examining a slice in his pants. A lance had torn his calve wide open. It has already healed.

"I'm fine."

"Sure." You don't sound convinced, frowning. "You look like shit. Am I really supposed to believe that?"

"I have already healed. my injuries are no longer a concern."

"... Really?"

"I am an abomination of Yaoshi. This is my nature."

You already know this, yet you look defeated. Your jaw is tight. "Uh-huh. Alright. Fuck, do you feel alright?"

"I'm fine. I need to be clean."

"... Alright?"

"I need to bathe."

"... I see that... Do you want me to call Kafka?"

"She's off ship."

"Oh, fuck." you curse and shake your head. "I-is she going to be back soon?"

"No. Help me instead."

"M-me?" Your voice trembles and you take a fearful step back. Ever the skittish thing. something in him— sort of him— vibrates.

"Yes."

"Can you— not?"

"It's cumbersome to wash on my own."

"I see." You run a hand over your cheeks and adjust the wide collar of your shirt. It’s too big. It’s one of his— probably? A sleep shirt. One that Kafka stole from him to give to you. He knows you own several. "Alright. Okay. Fine. Fuck, I-I can help."

You shoo him into your bathroom.

You turn away from him almost immediately, poking around in a cabinet, plucking brightly colored products and muttering under your breath. Kafka mentioned that isolation is getting to you more than you think. She thinks it's cute.

Blade wordlessly begins to strip. First off is his blood-soaked overcoat, shredded around his ribs and with massive gouges taken out of the back. Then his undershirt. Followed by his pants. One of his belts rings a metallic clink as he undoes it.

You choose this moment to turn around and your eyes go wide.

"BLADE!" You cover your eyes, dropping a bottle. "What are you— you can't just do that."

"Do what?"

"Get... naked?"

"You are going to help me bathe. This is necessary."

"I understand that." You sound exasperated. Your voice is shaky. The tone is pulling something in the back of his mind. The corners of his lips almost want to curl upwards. "But you can't just strip without warning. Aeons, have some manners."

Blade nearly laughs— good-naturedly. The urge to is something dormant and poisonous. Seldom used. Usually it's a sharp impulse, but it's almost warm now. Tepid and pleasant.

(All for you.)

You cover your eyes as you fumble to turn on the tap, "At least go rinse off a little in the shower first, please?"

Doable, albeit difficult. Blade grunts something akin to an affirmative and finds your shower. He turns the water on (hot or cold doesn't seem... relevant) and steps in. The spray pours down from the ceiling, sending the worst of the gore down the drain.

Blade does not move for quite some time.

"Blade?" you ask warily. "You... done in there?"

It takes him a moment to reply. The cold spray lags him, "Yes."

"... Can you come out? The bath is ready."

He idles, thinking about your question. The softness of your voice. The candle that he can smell, lit on the countertop. You yourself, dressed in soft lounge clothes and covered in scars that strangers gave you. He thinks about the way skin and muscle rend under his blade. The way yours could. Under him. Under—

"Blade."

You open the glass shower door, worry-eyed.

He blinks at you.

Gently, you grab his arm. He flinches with it. Has half a mind to slam you into the tile until you pop like an perfectly ripe fruit—

But he doesn't.

"C’mon, bath time," you coax him out, dripping, careful to not look down. It’s a preservation of modesty. It feels useless, Blade thinks, as he pulls away to clamor into the bath.

... There are bubbles. Fragrant and herbal, with a soft oil shimmering on the top of the water. It is the perfect temperature. It feels... good. He forgets how nice warmth is. He softens. You heave out a sigh and settle next to him, outside the bath. There's a dampened washcloth, already in your hand.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" You ask.

"I don't care."

"Give me a yes or a no,” you press him, glaring a little. You roll up your sleeves and rise to your knees.

"Yes, then." He does not care. Do you not understand?

(You probably don't. You definitely don't.)

Your expression is unreadable as you dunk the rag into the bathwater and begin to wash him. First his right arm, then his left. Gently rubbing him down, taking extra care with his hands. The rag is gentle over his stiff fingers. You check under each of his nails individually.

You’re meticulous.

You ask a question or two about how he washes himself, specifically his hair, but Blade can't give you answers. Kafka stocks his bathroom. His bottles are numbered, and he never deviates from their preassigned order. It is easier that way. Even in Kafka’s tub, she tends to use the same order of expensive-looking products that she favors.

The treatment you’re currently giving him is not routine.

The ends of your sleeves dip into the water as you stretch over the tub, toward his legs. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, bitten in concentration. (It’s cute.) Blade feels... compelled to assist you. He raises his leg up at the knee. Just as carefully, you scrub him down, and then focus on his other leg.

The experience fills him with a sense of unease.

(It’s too tender.)

(You treat him too delicately. Even Kafka acknowledges the damage he carries, and her touch is only gentle to punctuate a roughness later on. She toys with him— it’s a farce. The way you touch him is too kind. You are too kind for him. It reminds him— makes him feel the ghost of a touch from hands more delicate and powerful than your own. From a different lifetime, blotted by Mara, corrupted and molten in his mind—)

“Blade—?” Your voice is shaking, shattering. You’re frozen at the side of the tub.

Blade blinks.

He has his hand wrapped around your wrist; his grip swallowing the fragile limb. The force of it is bruising. He holds it under the water, forcing you to lean over the tub. You are submerged up to your elbow. Your expression is pinched, afraid. Your pupils pinpricked.

An animal snared.

His grip tightens.

“Let go, please.” You ask, lip wobbling.

He does not want to let go. He really does not want to let go. Blade cannot trace the feeling, it’s miasmatic. It was a bad idea to have you assist in bathing him. Mara webs itself behind his eyes. His jaw locks and breathes hard through his nose. He wants to sink his teeth into your throat.

“Please, stop,” You whine— whimper while tugging against his hold. You are half bent over the bath. Your eyes water, all shiny.

The tone does something to him. Many people plead around him— for their life, mercy, favor. It’s useless. He does not care. He has no reason to care. There are scripts to follow. However— there’s no script here. Just the warm suds, the blood pumping through your veins, and Blade’s tunneling vision.

With a sharp pull, he drags you into the bath.

You fall in headfirst. Instantly, you clamor at the side of the tub and his submerged legs to get yourself back above water. You scramble. It’s— cute. Your hair is slicked down around your face and forehead, eyes wide as you pant. His legs bracket your body. He tightens his thighs around you.

Your thin clothes are soaked and cling to you. Fabric over curves and folds over your flesh. Blade’s half-hard and feels bad about it.

(He can’t trace why. It’s far from the first time he’s been physically aroused in relation to you. It always makes him feel bad. Not with Mara, but something personal and sour and less mad. He hates it. He’s almost torn out a rib over the feeling.)

You hover, frozen, between his legs. The only sounds in the bathroom are your panting breaths and the drips rolling off your body, into the bathwater. You swallow, trembling, but remaining otherwise unmoving. It occurs to Blade after a few tense moments that you are waiting for him to strike.

Always like a little, frightened animal.

(Something in him writhes.)

He moves quickly, shooting a hand out to fist into your hair. His grip is unyielding, giving you no slack (though, he doesn’t yank and pull as he could. He could tear out chunks if he wanted. He just doesn’t want you to move.) He wants you closer— maybe. He wants you far away, thrown through one of the ship's thick windows and into the vacuum of space and dead.

(Though, it wouldn’t be as satisfying for the void of space to kill you. He’d rather do it. He wants to do it, if you’re going to die.)

You whine and paw at his wrists, babbling something.

Blade feels disgusting as he drags your body to his, his chest to your back, and he curls over your form. His arms wind around your waist and squeeze. You scratch at him, beg maybe— he can’t tell, his ears are ringing. Your fists that slam into his shoulders and skull feel like swats from a declawed kitten. He doesn’t budge despite your protests.

You stop fighting when you realize he isn’t hurting you.

Blade doesn’t... want to hurt you. He thinks. Not really. Not in the way that Mara is screaming at him to. He isn’t content, you’re too warm and too alive to be this close to his body, but it's not bad. Contact both scratches an itch under his skin and aggravates a wound. It’s like a bath with Kafka, but worse—

(Because part of him wants this.)

Blade flinches when you go slack against him, chest heaving out breath. Even this little ‘scrap’ has tired you out. You’ve become weakened in your confined state— even if you really wanted to fight him, you don’t have the physical strength to be able to.

You sniffle, covered in soaked clothes and soap suds.

“Don’t cry.” Blade says without thinking. His voice is shot, dead-pan.

Trembling, you shake your head, “I w-won’t.”

It’s a lie. You’re already shaking in his arms.

It’s— unfair. You’re most used to him, and less wary of him than Kafka. Part of him, a loud but small part of his mind, thinks that a bath together could be enjoyable— if he wasn’t washing blood and filth from his hair, and you weren’t shivering in your soaked day clothes.

(‘This could be nice’, it urges.)

His hands rub over your sides in small circles at the idea.

You gasp and squirm, looking back at him with wild eyes, “Blade, please—”

He stops, but his hold around your waist doesn’t waver. You sigh and lean back into his chest, deflating. Your eyes go half-lidded as you look toward the ceiling. They look— dull. Light and life drained. Like how they did when he and Kafka first collected you from that gilded planet.

Blade knows that look— a dull mind and an active body. Your breath is still a bit too fast. Your heart is the same, running a prey-like rhythm. He assumes that you have left your body, gone elsewhere.

“Hey.” He shakes you lightly, dragging you back to the cooling bath. “Help with my hair.”

“... Hair?” You ask, voice soft and dreamy. “... Do you need me to wash it?”

“Yes.”

“... Okay.” You nod after a moment and rotate in his lap.

Your shoulders sag forward as you fumble for shampoo and squirt a generous amount into your palm. Half of it misses and the gel sinks into the bathwater below.

It’s unfair— part of him says again— he wants to tear it out and shred it between his teeth or under his blade. It screams that it's unfair that you dote on a creature like him. It’s unfair that you must shiver while lathering and rinsing his hair. That your pretty lips tremble with fear.

The Mara writhes. He has not been human in so long. He does not deserve the gentleness you so often give him. Especially now, when he has dragged you closer, made you filthy with the stench of blood, and forced you so close. He wants to bite out your throat as you tip forward to grab a brightly colored bottle of oil and begin to work through the knots in his air.

You are frowning. You are crying.

He wants to eat you.

Blade reaches for your chest, studying the way that the fabric clings to your skin-gone-gooseflesh. He finds the top button of your soft blouse in his own unsteady hands and undoes it. You freeze when he does, breath catching.

You don’t breathe as he undoes another button.

Then another.

And another.

You don’t breathe until the garment is nearly off. Just one button secures the fabric. He can see the peak of your breasts under the fabric, nipples pebbled in the cold. You’re so cold.

(Blade wishes, dead Yingxing wishes, that he were warmer.)

Your hand shoots out and wraps around his wrist, and in a small voice, you beg, “Please, d-don’t.”

“You’re cold.” Blade says. He reaches past you, sloshing water, to turn on the spigot for hot water. “You will stay cold if you wear wet clothes.”

You look at him strangely. At first, it’s wounded. Like you’ve been lanced through with Shard Sword, and now bear the gaping wound. It morphs to one of confusion, then you bite your lip. And grab his hands in your own and stare at them.

“... That’s all?” You ask.

“Mostly.” Blade replies. There’s— more. Far more. But nothing that is concrete enough, or important enough, to share with you. It would more than likely aggravate his spitting Mara.

“Okay.” You reply, looking up from your joined hands. Your eyes are round and watery. “You’re not trying to rape me?”

He freezes.

The word ‘rape’ pulls something disgusting and festering up from Blade’s guts. Something he wants to purge. He has the distinct urge to lean over the side of the time and vomit, but he hasn’t eaten in the last forty-eight hours, so there’s nothing to heave up. So instead, he is still.

It’s like he can feel the rot. He’s not sure why. He knows what the word means, he is pretty sure he has been raped. Probably. Either when he was a young child, a refugee fleeing a massacred world, or maybe when he was the bedmate to a dragon. Maybe, probably, from Kafka, any number of times. Maybe last week. His mind is cloudy.

What constitutes rape is foggy.

He knows it would mean that he wants to have sex with you, and you wouldn’t want to have sex with him.

And Blade—

(He— He— doesn’t want to have sex with you? Or he does. Maybe. He wants to be close to you, inside you. He wants to curl around you and make you swear to never leave. He wants— he wants so much. Blade is selfish. But—)

Not like that, he doesn’t think. Others have been, he’s sure— he’s sure.

Mara pours into his mind, and he remembers then. Pieces of times, fragments of old memories, of rape. Of violation of all kinds.

(At the hands of borisins holding him down as he screamed and cried, his body too little to do any fighting in the jaws of an Abundance beast.)

(A tradesman who allowed him to stowaway on a cargo ship, destined for the Luofu. ‘Payment’ — the man had called it. For safe passage and a little sack of rice.)

(Dan Feng, during one of his draconic ruts. He was the Child of a Cosmic Horror, ultimately. That’s all Aeons are, anyways. Yingxing had been split on his cock so many times, so full, he bled for a day, even with Dan Feng fussing over him with his cloudhymns, lucid-in-mind and torn apart by so much guilt for a wildly proud man.)

(Kafka, a few days after she first picked him up from the surface of the asteroid Jingliu had been beating him into. Kafka, a few weeks after that— in a hotel that stank of blue emory roses. Kafka, a few weeks ago, draped over his shoulders between missions. There’s more. Memories drenched in the smell of her rich perfume. They tangle in feelings of comfort and revulsion.)

Blade doesn’t want to do any of that to you.

(He wants something with you— but—)

(Not like that. He doesn’t want you to hurt.)

“I’m not going to rape you.” He tells you. He hardly sounds like himself as the Mara quiets.

He thumbs over your lips. There’s a scar in the middle of them where they had been split, repeatedly, and then healed over. You’d told him once that one of your old keepers used to deprive you of water if he felt like it. Your breath is hot against his fingertip.

You say nothing, but your breath is still fast and shaky. Your eyes are wide. A feral, wild animal.

“I’m not.” Blade tries to reassure you. You flinch with the sound of his voice. “You’re freezing. The bath can be refilled with warm water. Bathe.”

Tears break over your lower lashes as you stare at him. He stares back.

(He wonders what you’re thinking. If you have as much trouble thinking as he does— you probably do. You’ve sustained head trauma. Traumas. You’re both torn-up wrecks, maybe. It could provide him with some solace.)

“... Okay.” You rub your eyes with balled up hands and laugh. “Okay.”

Blade then helps you peel off your shirt. Then your shorts and underwear. When you’re bare, Blade drains most of the water from the, leaving you both with a layer of clinging bubbles protecting the barest bits of your modesty. You cover your chest and center with your hands, keeping your head down. Hiding your throat.

He refills the tub with more soap— too much probably. Mountains of bubbles appear as he dumps in a glug of shimmering, emerald-colored oil. It swirls into the water as it rises. You relax as it rises over your chest. Your eyelids droop. You look so tired.

Blade washes you like you did him.

You face each other as he does. Your gaze never leaves him, though it goes glassy again. Unfocused. Blade can feel your heartbeat through your skin, slowing more and more with each pass of the warm, soapy rag he is using. He massages products into your hair. He thinks that he may be doing so in the correct order. He hopes he is.

This close, he can see all of you. Most of you. Feel you too. He feels ridges and bumps of scars. Chunks of flesh that have been torn from you, replaced by cicatrix, uneven and unnatural under his touch. You shudder when he touches you, shivering despite the heat of the room. You’re sensitive. He doesn’t want Kafka to know.

You feel different like this. Blade is unable to place why.

When he is through with you, steam and bubbles still rising from the bath, you drag him closer. Your fingers dig into his biceps, latching on and scrambling to get closer.

“... You really mean it, don’t you?” You ask. Your eyes are still unfocused. “You’re not going to? You’re not fucking with me?”

“... What are you talking about?”

An unrestrained smile stretches over your face, “You do mean it. You do. You do.”

Blade can only guess what you mean. You clearly will not (or cannot) tell him. You shiver against a full body thing against him. It makes him uneasy. He flips you by the hips, so that your back is to his chest, and he can curl over your shoulders. He cast a shadow into the water.

Indulgently, he presses his nose into your cheek. You smell like fresh soap and skin. He thinks if he licked you, you’d taste like salt.

He doesn’t.

When that’s all he does, you laugh.

It’s a belting thing, the kind of sound that’s punched from your gut with the same force that could break ribs. Blade can imagine the sound and sensation of it obliterating your insides as your laughter bounces around the tile of the bathroom. It’s manic. It’s an unwell sound. You clutch a fist over your chest as you howl.

You don’t stop for a while.

It’s clearly too much. Blade can feel it. The sound echoes in his chest. It must be shredding yours.

His arm wraps around your midsection as you do, and he tries to press you closer— he thinks. He thinks it might help. Your breath starts to shake, each inhale pitching high and sharp. You’re hyperventilating around your laughter. You’re hysterical, but don’t fight his hold. Even as tears drip down your cheeks, splattering into the bathwater.

Blade says your name— it should come out sharply. He means it to.

However, it is gentle. His voice is hushed and rough.

“You’re alright.” He squeezes you until the breath is forced from your lungs, and there’s no fuel for your laughter anymore. “You’re okay.”

With a choked, quiet sob, you reply, “I know.”

...

It’s later— much later. Maybe the next day.

Your room still doesn’t have any way to keep time other than your little tablet, which has been powered off and charges across the room on top of your dresser, so Blade can only guess.

He lays beside you in bed, propped up on an elbow. You sleep next time to him, relaxed and soft-jawed. The soft duvet is pulled up to your collarbones, and you curl into Blade. He’s— warmer than the rest of your room. Even if he does run too cold to be properly alive.

He runs the side of his index finger over your face.

You had been so tired after leaving the bath, you’d hardly been able to dress yourself— you hadn’t been able to. Blade to pick out sleep clothes and help you get into them. He chose whatever he could find that seemed. Soft.

(A flowing, soft teal top and white shorts with golden thread sewn in the seams.)

You fell asleep quickly after that and have been ever since. Blade had only meant to sit on the edge of your mattress.

That did not happen.

Instead, he’s tucked next to you. One of your hands fists the front of his shirt, and your body is angled toward him. Seeking. Wanting.

Blade could take.

He recognizes that.

It’s a thought, though, not a temptation. Not after the bath. Not after feeling the ways in which your body has been torn apart and so painstakingly put itself back together. You are not a creature of Abundance, you are not built to live forever and to repair yourself endlessly like he is. Your vitality is finite. Every scar your flesh must restitch takes something from you and it will not be replaced.

You will end.

Your bedroom door clicks, five times, then opens with a whoosh of air. Kafka stands in the doorframe. A sickly-sweet smile stains her mouth. Her lipstick is the is freshly applied and glossy.

“I see you got all cleaned up, Bladie,” her voice is silken and smooth. He could drown in it. “Was our little pup helpful?”

“... Yes.”

“Good.” Kafka hums. Her heels click against the floor, and she takes a place next to you. Even as the mattress dips, you don’t stir. “You’re so helpful with training them. Good boy.”

Blade pauses his petting of you to glare and grunt at Kafka. She looks delighted.

“I wasn’t aware I was assisting with any sort of training.”

“It’s all implicit. As long as they’re getting comfortable, that’s what counts. Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

Blade doesn’t like that answer.

“I don’t want to see them hurt,” Blade says.

“That’s sweet of you.”

“I mean it, Kafka.”

“I know, I know.” Kafka laughs. She sighs and falls into the bed, over the cushy duvet. She spoons you, flattening herself to your back and winding her arms around your waist. Your brow wrinkles and a little whimper scratches from your throat. “I’d like to see our new puppy kept in one piece too, Bladie. I’ve grown quite fond of them. However, we are both beholden to Destiny. If one of Elio’s scripts—”

“I know.” Blade snaps.

He does not want to think about it.

His hand that had been petting you winds tightly into your hair and your face scrunches up.

“Listen, Bladie, everything’s alright. You’re okay.” Kafka soothes, dropping a kiss onto your cheek. It leaves a smear. Kafka works Blade’s hand out of your hair. “Be good and keep them company while I give Elio a mission report.”

“That’s what I have been doing.”

“Then, keep it up.”

Kafka rolls out of bed with a sigh, not a hair out of place. She leaves the room almost soundlessly, the door clicking as it relocks. Five times.

Blade does as Kafka says. He keeps you company, sinking down into the mattress beside you. He wipes away the lipstick left over your cheek and presses a kiss to the spot. He lingers there.

Kafka can have— a lot of him. But, perhaps, he will covet you, all for himself.

(If the Mara in his mind had not been suppressed, perhaps he would have heard:

(FOOL FOOL FOOL! DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU COVET AND CLING? DO NOT FORGET YOUR SINS! DO NOT FORGET HIS SINS—!)

Instead, his mind is quiet. He pulls you closer and sleeps. Space is dead around him, and you are dead to the world in his undying arms.

Blade thinks he likes when you bathe with him.

#lore writes #blade x reader #ren x reader #blade x you #hsr x reader #tw yandere #tw dark content #tw noncon #LETS GO!!!#PLEAAASE mind the tags but otherwise enjoy!!!

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amethystasra · 5 months

Text

14DWY is an 18+ game, minors DNI !

Ren/ AFAB Reader

2.4k words

Ren belongs to @14dayswithyou 🌟

You spent the day with Leon and Ren gets jealous. Based off a post that said Ren would only take his own pleasure into account if you manage to make him jealous enough, though this ended up being a lot softer than intended. Written with [REDACTED] in mind.

jealousy, reverse comfort and all that stuff:)

Five hours. Five hours, fifty-two minutes and thirteen seconds. That's how long you've been gone today. Ren looked at the time on his laptop, as he counted the seconds you were away. A painful emptiness in his heart, as he stared at the pictures of you and him that hung on your shared walls. He missed you so much. Even a minute without you is enough to turn him into a sobbing mess.

He heard your laugh coming from his laptop -That he had been using to listen in on your conversations through your phone- followed up by someone else's that made his fists curl up in anger. Leon.

"I haven't seen Leon in weeks Ren. We're just catching up. It'll only be for a little while; I'll be right back." You had told him, after he had desperately tried to keep you home using numerous excuses as to why you shouldn't go.

Ren's possessive tendencies are already intense enough as it is, but oh your childhood friend, the piece of shit who had ruined his proposal to you all those years ago, made him feel a type of jealousy like no other. His jaw clenched as he forced out a –somewhat unsettling- smile. “Sorry angel. I just worry about you.” He pulled you closer to him, placing a kiss atop your forehead. “Call me if you need anything, alright?” He had no choice but to let you go, not wanting to risk a fight, and end up with you potentially viewing him in a bad light.

Ren felt his stomach churning, a mixture of jealousy and anger, hearing the two of you talk and laugh, while you ignored him. You had responded to the first couple of his texts, picked up the first few times he called, until you decided to put your phone on do not disturb.

"Is everything alright between you and that lanky fella, sunfish?" Leon’s voice was laced with concern. "You know all I want is for you to be happy, and I'll support you no matter what,” He paused for a second. “But, if I'm being honest, something about him just feels off. He’s called you, like what? Five times already?"

Ren felt his blood boil, his brain already coming up with ways to remove this pest that keeps on trying to separate him from his angel.

You were quick to dismiss Leon’s concerns. "He's just a bit clingy, that's all. It's actually kind of sweet. He just worries a lot." Ren's anger melted away, as you came to his defense, replaced by the utter love and devotion he feels for you. A literal angel.

Six hours and 20 minutes had passed when you finally returned home. Ren already stood waiting right in front of the door. Before you could even step inside you felt a pair of arms wrap around you tightly. "Woah, hello to you too." You giggled; a bit startled. Ren didn't respond as he pulled you inside, rested his head on top of yours and inhaled your scent. You embraced him back and smiled. "I missed you too Ren."

Ren finally pulled back enough to look at you.

"Did you?" He sounded sad, but there was also a certain sharpness in his voice. "Then why were you ignoring me?" The jealousy in his voice now becoming clear.

You frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt rise in you. "I'm sorry Ren. It's just, you were calling almost every 10 minutes and Leon-" Ren cut you off before you could finish your sentence. "Do you like him more than me?" His voice was intense, not mad, you knew he could never get mad at you. He sounded possessive, and if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would’ve almost missed the desperation his words were laced with. "No- no of course not." Heat rose to your cheeks as butterflies began to form in your stomach.

He stared at you intensely, putting his hand on your face and bringing his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. You kiss him back immediately. His hands grabbing your waist firmly, fingers digging into the plush skin. After what felt like forever, he finally pulled back.

"Then show me that you belong to me. That you're mine." He breathes, eyes half lidded. You nodded your head with a desperate gleam in your eyes, letting him know how much you want this too. "I'm yours Ren." You tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "Only yours."

Ren's lips were back on yours in an instant, moaning into your mouth as his hands roamed all over your body. One was placed behind your head, as the other found its way to your breast, massaging it. After a while his hands settled around your thighs, and suddenly you were being lifted up and carried to the bedroom.

Ren gently set you down on the bed before stepping back and looking down at you with complete infatuation. "Strip for me." He ordered.

You stared at him for a second, unsure of where to start. When you took a little too long for his liking, he quirked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to get started. You slowly pulled up your shirt, exposing your bare chest. Ren looked at you intently, watching you undress for him, his hand slowly rubbing the bulge in his pants. Once you were done with the rest of your clothes, you sat back down on your knees, waiting obediently for your next order.

Ren stepped closer to the bed and put his hand on top of your hair and started petting it softly. "So obedient f'me. Such a good girl. Now open up." He put his free hand on your chin, and gently pried open your lips with his finger before shoving it in.

"Ah- fuck." Ren moaned as you immediately started sucking. He took a few seconds to relish in the way you seemed so eager to obey his every whim, before pulling his hand back and ordering you to lay down on the bed. He slowly started making his way over to the bedside table, never taking his eyes off you. He opened the drawer, pulling out a rope. "Hands above your head. Wrists together."

All you could do was silently obey as you felt your arousal dripping down your thighs. Ren bound your wrists to the headboard and stepped back for a second, admiring his handiwork.

"Mine." He whispered to himself quietly. A shameful thought crossed his mind, at the sight of you tied up beneath him. What if he kept you here permanently? tied up like this, in his bed. You sure seem to be enjoying yourself. Maybe you'd like this too.

Ren's heart raced at the thought of having you all to himself. Being the only one who gets to see you like this, the only one who gets to speak to you, the only one who gets to touch you, the only one who gets to receive your attention forever and ever and ever-

"Ren?" The sound of your voice softly calling out his name made him snap back to reality.

No. He’d never do that -except as a last resort of course, but he wouldn't let it come to that- he wants to share every single second of his life with you. He wants to watch the stars reflect in your eyes every night, he wants to take you on expensive dinners and shopping trips, give you everything you ask for, visit new places together, and make every single dream of yours come true. Because just as much as you were his, he was also yours. And if others tried to get in the way of that, he would simply have to get rid of them. It's going to be just the two of you for eternity, no matter what. He will make sure of that.

He smiled at the sound of your voice, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Patience, angel.”

He undressed himself, stroking his cock a few times before sitting down on the bed next to you. He softly cupped your face in the palms of his hands and kissed you. His hands slowly made their way down your body, making sure to not leave a single inch untouched. His hands came to an eventual halt a few inches from your soaking entrance. You bucked your hips against his fingers in an attempt for him to continue. He chuckled at your desperation, before sliding two fingers inside of you.

"God, you're soaked for me already. I don't even think you need any prep." He pumped his fingers in and out a few times before retracting them completely, and slowly licking them clean with a moan. He straddled your hips placing his cock at your entrance and gripping your waist firmly.

"Tell me how badly y'want it, angel. Tell me how badly you want me." The words escape your mouth before you can even think about it. "Please Ren. I need you." A sly smirk appeared on his face. "Please what? What do you need? Use your words baby."

"I need you to fuck me Ren plea-" before you could even finish your sentence Ren was already thrusting himself inside you, groaning loudly at the way your soft walls hugged his member. He waited a few seconds for you to adjust and started moving –at a pace a bit rougher than his usual- after you gave a confirming nod.

His fingers dig into the plush of your hips, as Ren continues fucking into you roughly like his life depends on it. He whimpers every time your walls clench around his cock.

Ren shamelessly moans out your name, while moving one hand to cup your face, and the other towards your clit, using his skilled fingers to rub it in circles. He's being so rough, yet so gentle at the same time.

"Keep making those pretty sounds for me f'me baby. Fuck you feel so good." He moans into the crook of your neck before gently biting into the skin there, leaving marks all over you.

He continues thrusting into you, searching your eyes after he decides he's left enough marks on your throat. His eyes glisten with something so utterly intense and passionate it leaves you speechless.

You close your eyes for a while, getting lost in way his cock slams in and out of you, and the way his slender fingers work on your clit, until you hear Ren calling out your name again. "Look at me baby, you're close, aren't you?" You try to answer him, but all you can manage is a nod and more jumbled moans. "Then cum for me angel."

The knot in your stomach tightens, and before you can even think about it you can feel yourself falling over the edge.

He works you through your orgasm, making sure you get to ride it out entirely. Once you start to shake from overstimulation, his hands move back down to grab your hips again on the same spot where marks are already beginning to show from his previous hold and

Ren's movements become frantic. "That's it baby, fuck." Ren lets out a mixture of whimpers and mumbled "I love You's" as he reaches his own peak and fills you up.

Ren pants into the crook of your neck while you both come down from your high. He doesn't back up. He clings to you, as if he fears you might disappear the moment he lets go, pushing his face a little further into your hair, his fingers tightening around your waist. After a few seconds, he takes a moment to quickly undo the bindings around your wrists. He massages the area that was bound, placing the softest kisses onto it before settling his head back in its prior spot.

Everything seemed peaceful, but you could tell something was off. He was somehow holding you even tighter than usual and the soft exhales of breath gliding down the side of your neck held something unspoken.

You reach up, one hand softly stroking through his hair, as you put your other on his face in an attempt to get him to look up to you. His face remained buried deep into the crook of your neck, a few quick sobs escaping his lips. You kiss him temple, waiting a few moments, knowing he usually doesn't like to show this more emotional side of himself, let alone talk about it. "Ren, what's wrong?" You ask him in the softest, most angelic voice.

He tries to choke back a response but ends up a stuttering mess. You place both your hands on his face now, making him look up at you with teary eyes. "It's okay, I'm here Ren, can you take some deep breaths for me?"

Ren does as he's asked, and eventually his breathing steadies. You wipe a few stray tears that still lingered on his rosy cheeks. "What's wrong?" You whisper again, so quiet he almost missed it.

"I- I just-" he begins slowly. "I missed you so much." He hesitates for a second, but a quick encouraging nod of your head makes him continue. "When you're not here with me, when you're with someone else, it feels as if all the air is ripped out of my lungs. It's like the moon and all the stars have disappeared from the sky and I'm left in complete darkness. I-” He looks up at you. “I just need you angel. I love you so much.”

Your eyes start to tear up at his words, you pull his face to yours and kiss him. “I love you too Ren, more than anything. Please don’t ever doubt that.” You wipe away the tears that fall from his eyes. “I’m not going to just disappear if I'm away for a few yours. I'll always come home to you. Please just let me know whenever you feel like this, okay?” Ren nods and kisses you again, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his chest.

There are some more kisses and quiet words exchanged between the two of you before you both drift to sleep, dangled in each other's arms.

#14 days with you #14 days with you redacted #14dwy #14 days with you ren #ren x reader #yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere visual novel #yandere x you #obsessive love #yandere drabble

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skeletonapricationday · 5 months

Text

Collaboration

Dead dove do not eat

I do not condone any of these actions and neither should you. This is purely fantasy. Do not forget that.

Warnings: blood kink, choking (gone a little far), bondage bench, face fucking, knotted genitals (fox pp), dark web streaming, recorded sex, and too many more to count.

Minors dni

You move around your messy warehouse excitedly and nervously. All the cameras placed perfectly, even a few mics placed caustiously as to not be in view. You walk over to your computer screens, their bright lights the only lights in the room. They shine on your face as you slip the mask on. Securing it tight. The familiar feeling of power surging through you.

1...2...3...Action!

"Hey my little degenerates! Cobra here today with a very exciting stream." You see the chats and views roll in quickly. The followers you've gained over the years quick to join.

'A new exciting stream! We've missed you Cobra' one writes. 'I've been so lonely without my favorite whore.' Another chimes in. All types of messages on your screens.

"Awee you've missed me. That's so cute." You say, your lips curling into a foul smile. The mask covered the top half of your face, leaving your plump round mouth as the only thing in view. "I missed yall too, but you won't regret why I've been gone for so long...today we have a very exciting guest. Can yall guess who it is?" You ask sickly sweet.

'A guest? Is it a new toy?' A chatter asks. 'No, she never introduces her toys this way.' Another correctly assumes. 'Could it be another streamer?'

"Oh my. You've gone from cold to burning hot chat. You're close~" You purr. Waiting for them to catch on. "C'mon yall begged for this. You should know!" You say fake pouting. Setting up a silent hype for your viewers.

Suddenly the door opens behind you, setting your nerves ablaze. You've never met him before, but you've seen his streams. Always quick to jump in and even tip him. You look over as he stands out of the cameras view, slowly putting on his mask. He's so quick you didn't get to see his face. "Guys! Your surprise is here." You giggle standing. Walking over to him, flaunting your hips as you walk for the camera.

The man barks out a laugh. "My, you seem more excited than your chat." He says in that usual mechanical tone you've come to love.

"Can't help it, I'm also a fan yknow." You giggle nervously.

You can hear the chat going wild. Some already catching on from his voice alone, and others left in utter confusion. You toy with the stockings on your lingire nervously. Wondering what to say or do, but you quickly go back to being professional.

He walks slowly into the frame, walking straight up to a camera. "Hey chat- did you miss me too?" He asks expertly, his reveal making the fans go nuts.

'No way! Cobra did it!' 'I wanna be her, I've always wanted to meet Fox.' 'Shut up and just enjoy this!' The chat goes wild, sending in tips before the show even starts.

You walk over and playfully grab Fox's arm, pulling it close to your barely clothed chest. "Isn't this just exciting! Who knew you'd ever respond to little ol' me." You tease, looking into his cold eyes.

"I'm not dumb enough to reject such an offer! I'm sure plenty would kill to be in my place." He teases back, quick on his feet. "Though I'm sorry for the time crunch, I wish we could've met behind the scenes first." He says earnestly, like he's also excited for this show.

"It's no problem. We're both busy people." You purr out like honey. Voice more animalistic than the fox being in front of you. Excited merely at the thought of this shoot.

He wrenches his arm out of your grasp, grabbing your waist with it. His sharp nails caressing your bare side. "I hate making pretty woman wait, especially when they're famous. Should we get to it?" He asks, then looks back the screen. Fans biting their nails eagerly for this.

This was it. You're a famous gore streamer yourself, frequently buying from Fox's underground trade. Breaking toy after toy. You even did a few streams of just yourself, a nice toy, and a knife, those seem to be the fans favorites. They want to see you in a reversed position. Used the same way you use others. You're pulled out of your thoughts by a harsh grip.

His nails now digging into your side, small spots of blood pouring down from the small puncture wounds. You hiss and groan, receiving a small chuckle in return. "Now now- we haven't even started. Can't have you zoning out...yet." He says, a dark looming foreshadow. You blush under your mask and look at him.

"Sorry I'm a tad nervous. I'm not exactly used to handing over my reigns." You say like an announcer, trying to keep the act up for the fans. He simply looks humored as he pulls his hand away. When he does you quickly show off to the camera the small cresant shaped injuries. Nothing major, not even worse than what you've done to yourself. Simply telling of what's to come.

"So I've brought something special, since I'm being gifted such a special toy." He purrs, walking over and opening a suitcase. Inside is a choke chain you've seen on stream before. "Don't worry doll, that's just the beginning." He hums out. Pulling out the chain and placing it aside. Underneath is a peculiar looking stick. You don't know what it is until he pulls it out, it's a cane. Long, hard, and sturdy. The perfect tool to get yelps out of someone. You gulp nervously, unsure of this, but also entirely sure.

He walks over and grabs your bandage bench, setting it up to fit you. Hooking the choke chain into the ceiling above it. If he wasn't wearing a mask you could swear he was smirking. "Do you understand the plan now doll?" He asks darkly with a honeyed undertone. You nod slowly and understanding. Seeing that the play has already begun.

You look at the camera and pretend to fan your face. "Geez chat it feels like it's already gotten hot in here!" You beam. Feeling Fox come behind you, running his hands up and down your sides.

"I think it's just you." He says into your ear, gripping onto your breast in front of the camera. Pushing them together for the viewers pleasure before teasing your nipples through the lace. Getting a small moan from you. "Afterall, what a cute little outfit. Is this all for me?" He barks out curiously, running his hands down to your thighs. Wiggling and playing with them like a cat.

"Of course it's for you silly. Gotta put on my best wear right?" You respond right back, trying to keep your confidence.

He whispers low into your ear, so quiet the microphones can't pick it up. He's speaking just for you. "Perfect darling. Perfect. Because I'm going to destroy you." He then looks at the camera and crinkles his eyes innocently. He grabs your throat, squeezing lightly.

You gasp as your airflow is weakened, not completely restricted. "Now where do we start with a little inexperienced thing like you?" He quips to the camera. Reading off chat requests till one catches his eye.

'Just strip her already and put her in that chair. I wanna see a Dom squeal.' He laughs at the chatter. Turning your head so you can see the message too. "You hear that doll? Your cute little fans wanna see you turned into a mess. Normally we'd do some kind of light play before getting into the meat of the show but...I can see you're too tantalizing for that." His grip on your throat tightens. Completely cutting off your ability to breathe.

You struggle a bit, surprised by his harsh grip. He only lets out a huff through his nose and squeezes tighter. Causing you to feel a small ring like bruise form on your precious skin. He lets go.

You fall to the floors coughing, holding the concrete floor as a life line. He picks up a camera and zooms it in on your face. "We've only just started and she's already sputtering. Are you sure you aren't just a bottom in disguise?' He asks curiously, running his boot up your thigh, pressing painfully into it.

"Nope, I'm a switch, Fox. Never claimed to be a dom." You giggle out cockily. Looking through the holes of your mask defiantly. Rubbing your throat to ease the pain of the mark, feeling wetness pool at your thighs. His harsh and unloving gaze already turning you on.

"Doesn't mean anything if you're still pathetic." He says, barking out another laugh. Taking his boot off your thigh he notions towards the bdsm bench. Telling you to get ready to be strapped in.

You slowly stand and walk to it. The bandage bench forcing you into a downward dog position. He straps you in carefully, till you can only move your head back and forth, and mildly rock your hips. "You look better positioned like the bitch you are." He says looking down at you. Putting the choke chain around your neck, forcing you to keep your head up. One wrong move and the nails would pierce through your throat, rendering you dead.

"I'm not a dog." You say in a bratty tone. Smirking at him like 'what are you gonna do about it.'

"Sure you are." He smiles, running a cold gloved hand down your back all the way to your ass. Goosebumps forming whereever he touches. He quickly brings a hand down to your ass causing you to yelp. "See? You just barked." He giggles out. Entertained by your shattering ego.

"I don't bark, I moan get it right." You huff in response, rolling your eyes. He can't see it since he's behind you, but you're sure he catches it in one of the several viewfinders. Your kinky play broadcasted to thousands. It makes you grow wetter at the thought, and distracts you enough for Fox to surprise you

A sudden blinding pain vibrates through your body. Starting at your ass and zapping all the way up your spine. You whimper when it subsides. "What is-?" You shout confused.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten? I even showed you." He purrs behind you. Rubbing over the mark on your ass, soothing it with his cold palm. "That's one."

"On-one?" You stutter. Keeping your head painfully up despite the urge to hang your head in pain. "How many are you gonna do Fox." Suddently you scream in pain again.

"Wrong." He states coldly. "Whats my name?" He asks.

You bite your bottom lip in thought but come up blank."Fox-its Fox- AAA." Another slap of the cane.

"Fox is only when you're human." He coos. "And right now you're a toy. What do toys say?" He hums, tapping his nails on your back expectantly.

"Daddy..." You hush out quietly.

"Say it proudly or you've earned another." He grabs the back of your hair, forcing your head even further upward. "Say it, slut."

"Daddy!" You shout, tears pricking your eyes under your mask. You hear a laugh behind you and he lets your head go. Leaving you to hold yourself up.

"Good girl!" He says proudly, a lustful tone underneath. "See it wasn't that hard...but I am." He jokes to the camera. Looking right into the lens like a famous actor.

"You're hard?" You ask excitedly. Your ego lighting aflame in your chest. You made Fox hard. You've won. You did it.

"You don't believe me?" He says with a fake pout. Rubbing his cock against your ass. "Do you believe me now?" He says, rutting his hips a tad, groaning at the clothed contact.

"Yes daddy." You purr. Feeling it twitch in his pants, his tip probably already soaking wet just like you. "I'm wet~" You respond.

You yelp when the cane comes back down on you, this time hitting your thigh. It's difficult to keep your head up on your own through the fire but you manage. "I don't need a naughty girl stating the obvious. Do I?" He ask retortically, not looking for a real answer. He's looking for submission.

"No daddy. You don't." You whine, biting your bottom lip.

"Behave and you'll get rewarded, so will your fans." He hums, a smile in his voice. He walks in front of you and removes the choke chain. Letting you finally hang your head limply, giving your neck a rest. He tsks his tongue "No, no baby. That isn't why I freed you. You got a show to put on!" He says micheviously, like he's reprimanding a toddler.

"What do I do daddy?" You say trying to convince yourself to look up, no matter how limp you felt.

You hear the pop of buttons and that gets your attention. Looking up at him through blurry eyes, blinking rapidly. "So that catches your attention huh?" He teases. He rubs his claw against your bottom lip, smearing your blood from earlier on it. "Open. Do a good job and you won't get the cane for the rest of the night."

'That's right, treat her like the whore she is!' 'This is the best show yet!' 'I'm so glad I paid for this.' Echos of chats and tips come in, but they simply bounce off your blurry mind.

You open your lips slowly, feeling his knotted tip entering your mouth. Jaw being stretched impossibly wide. You hiss at the angle but open your mouth further, allowing him to push in the rest. "Remember, no teeth doll. I feel a single tooth and I'll pull them out of your skull." He beams cheerily. Throwing his head back with a groan as he slides in and out of your wet tight mouth. "It's like you were made for this." He says with a smirk in his wavering tone. His voice gravely, but his groans higher pitched.

You can't properly respond so you hum around him. Sending pleasurable vibrations through his dick. "Oh yea that's it doll. Fuck." He curses and looks back down at you. Making direct eye contact through your mask.

You whine around him, feeling your throat painfully restrict on every thrust. His tail swishing from side to side behind him, betraying his cold gaze and revealing his excitement. You move your tongue around rapidly, hoping it'll make him cum. Wanting nothing more than to feel his salty seed pour down your throat. He starts to thrust faster. Holding you by your hair to angle himself better. "That's it. Take it. Fucking take it." He repeats his words as you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. The veins pulsing more and more, tipping you off that he'll cum soon. You suck harder, desperate. "I'm going cum- that's it. Imma' pour my cum right down your throat. You want that baby?" He urges. Almost like you could say yes. You can't speak so you hum again and that sends him over the edge. Cum painting the inside of your neck. The thick liquid clinging to the walls, almost gagging you. He pulls out slowly with a relieved sigh. You cough and sputter, drool and a little bit of cum leaking down your chin.

"My, my don't you just look pretty. Let's see how wet you've become huh?" You look at him blushed, not wanting him to see the mess you've made. He walks behind you and laughs, gently slapping the side of your ass. "Wow, you really enjoyed that didn't you. Do you often dream of being a cocksleeve?"

You think of lying, but his cold sharp gaze can be felt behind you. You decide against it, clearing your throat. "Yes daddy. I do." He barks out another laugh.

"I made her suck me so hard I made her an honest woman." He teases cockily. Proud of everything. He rubs a hand against your still clothed folds. Collecting slick even through the fabric. You hear lick and slurping behind you, he was cleaning it off his hand. He was tasting you, and he moaned while doing it. "Geez, wish we could bottle this taste."

"That wouldn't sell well daddy." You joke back, he chuckles.

"On the contrary, I think it would be top teir on the sales chart." He giggle and rips your panties in half. Leaving your aching hole in the open, the cold air making you clench around nothing. "I don't even wanna bother preparing you, I mean you're already so wet. What's the point."

"You can just enter daddy...please." You whine, rocking your hips purposefully. Begging to finally get your rocks off after all this pain.

"Whatever you say, don't complain if it's a tight fit." He says proudly, stroking his own ego.

You feel the tip of his cock slip through your folds, teasing and collecting wetness. He even slaps the tip against your clit a few times, earning hefty short moans from your lips. "Daddy please!" You shout and as soon as you do he enters. Painfully stretching you open, filling up your aching cunt all too quickly. You cry and sob out a moan. A mixture of pain and pleasure as his hips meet your abused ass. His balls slapping against your clit.

"This is one tight cunt." He growls approvingly, like he was rating it. Slowly slipping in and out again. Actually giving you a few thrusts to adjust. You moan out babbles of thank you and daddy. "Oh baby I'm not gonna be nice, it just feels like I'm going to break in half. You got one beast of a pussy baby." He chuckles out.

He starts slamming back into you at an impossible speed, each thrust earning a yelp and moan. You whine as his tip kisses your cervix with each aching movement. Your thighs already shaking like you're going to cum. "Not so soon~" He purrs between his own moan. "Daddy has gotta get close first." He says cockily. Leaning down and sniffing your neck. "God you smell so fucking arousing!"

You moan and press your hips back against him, begging nonverbally for more. "Daddy please m' needa cum. Gotta cum daddy please-" You pant out. Bucking and trashing in the bondage bench desperately. More drool dripping down your already coated jaw. Each inahle you can taste his cum again, it only heightens your senses. "Daddy-daddy!" You shout.

"Just a little longer baby mm." He responses softly despite his animalistic pace. "You're gonna take it, and take it, and take it till I tell you otherwise." He punctuates every word with a sharp thrust. Fucking you deep and fast, not even pulling out completely. Every slap of his balls on your clit causing you to scream, tears falling down your face.

" 'mma cum 'mma cum I can't I can't-" You sob out, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around him. You hear a deep gravely sound pull out of him. He leans down into your shoulder and you hear his mask unclip. He bites harshly into your shoulder, blood dripping down onto the floor in front of you. You scream loudly, clenching again. He licks and laps at the wound, hiding his face from the public in your skin.

"Look into the fucking camera when you cum." You hear him put his mask back on. A strong hand gripping the base of your jaw, forcing you to look up. "Cum slut, now." He hisses between clenched teeth.

You do, the whole world turning white. Your walls spasming like crazy on his dick. Squirting onto the floor, his pants, and cock. Clear liquid streaming out of you. The world feels blurry and unreal as all the pleasure hits you. You don't even know if you're moaning, maybe you're talking but you don't know. It all feels too good, it's feels too too good.

"That's it. That's fucking it doll. Cum on daddy." He growls. Shooting hot ropes of seed inside you, burying himself in your cunt. Each pulse is another round of cum slipping out of him and into you. If you weren't on the pill you'd be pregnant for sure. "God I could fucking breed you. Whore." He hisses as he pulls out. Cum dripping down your abused folds.

You chuckle cockdrunk, drool leaking out of your mouth uncontrollably. "Hehe daddy~" You purr.

The lights of all the cameras shut off as you see the room grow darker. He had ended the stream. You're unhooked from the bench and fall right into his arms. He pulls your mask off and his too, bringing you in and kissing you deep. Your blood on his tongue and the taste of his cum of yours. It was like lightning.

"Let's see how good you preform off stream." You hear the dark voice as you fade out of consciousness. Passing out.

#price of flesh #the price of flesh #ren hana #ren hana x reader #x reader #smut #pure smut #no plot to be found #i have issues #the price of flesh ren hana #ren x reader #tpof #tpof ren #tpof fox #tpof x reader #no use of y/n #no use for a name #lol #streamer

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akiology · 5 months

Text

Akiren, Ryuji, Yusuke, Goro with S/O who wants a kiss

Note: This was mainly done out of boredom and need for fluff Ahwwksos I did this in my phone so if it looks weird, I apologize! I will fix it once I get to my computer.

Akiren

"I want a kiss."

The both of you were hanging out at Leblanc. Well, more like you. He was busy washing the dishes while watching over the store. Although, at the moment it was empty, save for the two of you.

When he heard your request, he smiles. He proceeds to dry his hands, and go to your side of the counter.

"Where, treasure?"

You thought of it for a moment, and pointed at your lips, "Here?"

He smiles even wider this time. He closes his eyes and gave you a quick peck. Before he could pull away, you wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to ask for more, but the sound of the door opening made you retrieve your hands. He cleared his throat, "Welcome!"

Maybe when he wasn't so busy, you could continue...

He looks at you apologetically and mouths, "Later."

Ryuji

"I want a kiss."

The sound of the various videogame sound effects, children cheering and laughing, and the grunts of your boyfriend on this certain fighting game he has been playing for almost thirty minutes fills your senses. You love watching him play, but man do you also want some affection.

"Wait a minute babe."

You pout, though he cannot see it. The match ended after almost a minute though, and then he quickly turned to you.

"What did'cha want, babe?"

"Kiss please."

"Oh!" And for a second he felt sheepish, but seeing that you were in a slightly secluded part of the arcade, he decided to be a little more bold. He gave you a quick kiss on your cheek, and pulled you closer to him to give another kiss on your forehead.

"Do you want to get something to eat?"

Yusuke

"I want a kiss."

The both of you were at Inokashira Park, as Yusuke wanted to find inspiration for his next artwork. It was a nice slightly cloudy day, so it wasn't too hot out. Having an impromptu picnic with your boyfriend outside was definitely a good change of pace.

He has just started cleaning up his landscape sketches, but looked up upon hearing your request.

"Certainly, my darling."

He places his sketchpad beside him, and reached out to give you a quick kiss on your lips. He reached out for your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. You smiled at his actions, and then suddenly he stops for a brief second.

"Yusuke, are you o-"

"Hold that pose!"

Goro

"I want a kiss."

The both of you were at his apartment. He was catching up with the Featherman episodes he missed because of work, and you were doing homework. Upon hearing your request, Goro smirked.

"Why?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean 'why'? What if I'm just craving attention from my boyfriend?"

"Hmm..." Goro put his hand under his chin, as if he is considering your very serious request.

You rolled your eyes at his antics. You scooted over to his side until there was no more space between the two of you, "Kiss please!"

He complied and gave you a quick kiss on your nose. You smiled and was about to back away when he held on to your arm.

"What about me? Where's my kiss?"

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renrenlilangel · 2 months

Text

Been thinking of art supplies and stuff I would love to have or want as a artist...Then Ren came to mind over this all. So have a little thing inspired by this. lol 💜

Ren/Redacted x artist gn!reader

The moment Ren knew you were a artist, he knew how they would express his love for you without a second thought.

Even before finally making himself known to you again in person in your life. They would anonymously gift you things to keep your creative heart going.

Pencils, pens, brushes, whatever you worked with, you would have it. He'll be sure to make them small gifts, to not intimidate you of course. But they would of gifted you a whole art supplies shop if he could, to be direct.

Though the moment he'd finally let himself be known in your life, and you two start dating. That's when he'll start to up his gifts giving levels to you, and not shy away from showing his love for you.

He'll even go as far as make a whole art studio for you at his place, so you have a place to work at freely with no issues. As well be a perfect excuse to have you over most of the times.

They will spoil you rotten through that art studio honestly. He'll fill the whole room up with art supplies of all types of mediums he knows you like, were interested in trying, etc. All so you can create and explore through the arts that your heart desires.

And never will you be without anything you need. He'll be sure to keep that place stocked up always, and will even give you more things through time.

He'll especially gift you special custom made things they know you'll love or use (pens, pencils, brushes, etc), that have both your names initials engraved on them. 💗

And if you ever need a muse to work with, you can bet they'll volunteer to be yours in a heartbeat. If anything, he hopes to be your muse, your only muse in fact. He wants no one else to have your complete heart and attention after all.

Whatever art medium(s) you work with, it doesn't matter because he knows he'll love your work always in the end. Anything you create is instantly amazing and beautiful to him, even if you were to make the most darkest gruesome art piece alive. He'll still call it absolutely gorgeous, because it was made by you.

And it'll especially go double if your art pieces were created with him on mind or inspired by them.

Him knowing you created anything at all because of him and him alone, would make their love for you grow even more. They'll absolutely would shower you with love and adoration from it all. 💖

#14dwy #14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #14dwy mc #ren x y/n #ren x mc #ren x reader #ren x you

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lovingache · 16 days

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anyways, just thinking about how deep ren’s obsession with angel must already be with how willing he is to give them everything.

how long must he have been watching you? studying the places you go to in your spare time, your favourite everything, trying to find the courage to speak to you but never knowing what to say— i mean, what could he even ask that he doesn’t already know about you? so he waits and bides his time until it’s just the right, orchestrated moment that’ll ensnare you into his life :)

can you imagine him searching for your favourite snacks and belabouring how he’s supposed to give them to you without being creepy? :) or trying not to reference inside jokes you might have with moth since he’s always listening to you? :)) i bet he’s imagined the look on your face when he just suddenly knows what you like or don’t like, what you need, and nearly collapses the first time he sees it for real :)!

or maybe he’ll reach a breaking point and just trap you in his apartment, making up some sort of story about how unsafe your building is and how it’s simply better for you to stay with him.

don’t mind the blood on the marble, angel, it’s just from him practicing cooking your favourite meals :) he can be so clumsy sometimes! all those burn marks and cuts on his arms are just from him practicing being the perfect boyfriend for you :))) certainly not from his v̷̢̻̘͉̜͂̿ͅĭ̷̢̊̓̈̍͝_̵̴̫̝͖̭̿̈̉͟͟c̶͖̗͖͓̬̖̮͖͍͛͑͛͐ͤ̓ͬ̑̔t̶̨̨͉̗̱̯̤̯̩̝̪͛ͬ̊̂̉͒ͭ̓ͯ̀͘͟͠͡i̶̵̤̰̳̬̫ͧ͐̃ͫ̉ͫͤ̉͌ͯͩ̂̀̾ͯ̊̚̚͟ͅm̙͙̺̞̙̮ͥ̽̆͝͞ͅs̵̥͈̣̱̳̙̦͍̓͛͆̀̔ͅ!

you believe him don’t you, angel ? :) ah, it doesn’t really matter if you do. soon enough, you won’t have a choice <3

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senmiyaazx · 17 days

Text

I CAN'T FUCKING

HE IS LITERALLY:

#14 days with you #14 days with you ren #visual novel #14dwy ren #14dwy #14dwy x reader #ren x reader

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hiskillingjar · 3 days

Note

can i get a fem ren forcefemming a transmasc reader 😭 for legal reason i am a transmasc with *that* kink but if you don't wanna do it then i understand cause most people would frown upon on me with this 😭😭😭😭

no shame!! forcefem is hot and there's nothing wrong with finding it hot <3

1000+ words, cw for light misgendering (it's for kinky reasons). this too is toxic yuri

"This doesn't really feel right,"

Your voice was a soft murmur as Ren brushed your hair in the bathroom mirror, her tail swiftly wagging to and fro behind her as she did so.

There was an eager little smile on her pixie-sweet face, and you knew she was absolutely revelling in how much your hair had grown while you were in her captivity, long enough that it was beginning to curl around your neck and drag over your shoulders

She had a preference for a more...feminine presentation, and she didn't make it a secret in the slightest.

"You don't like it? Really? But your hair is gorgeous~!" Ren cooed playfully, moving the brush away from your hair and turning you around to face her, that dumb smirk still on her face. “I would seriously kill to have hair like yours, so long and thick, ugh! I’m so jealous.”

"I'd…really prefer it if I could cut my hair," You mumbled when you peered towards her shyly, ducking your head down and brushing a long lock of hair behind your ear.

You had known girls back in college like you, growing their hair out awkwardly, heavy bangs, hiding their faces, not yet soft enough to pass as well as you had back then. You had felt a sense of kinship with those girls before, but even more so now.

"Like, the length of it…” You continued, reaching up to tug where it was longest. “It makes me kind of…dysphoric, you know..."

Ren frowned a little as you spoke, her ears tipping back and her tail stopping its wags.

Your request was reasonable, you thought so anyway, and you knew that she was suitably plugged into “the discourse” regarding your transmasculinity and gender dysphoria and things like that to understand why it make you feel so uncomfortable.

She had bought you testosterone off the dark web, for God’s sake. She must have seen you as-

"...but I like your hair the way it is." Ren replied in a small voice with a childish pout to her full lips, seeming almost... offended that you had even asked. “It looks pretty.

"I know that," You said with a sigh, rolling your eyes. You knew she was very particular about what she liked (how you looked), and probably didn't appreciate you not catering to her every desire. She was so...needy sometimes. And so demanding too. "But...you get it, right? You know why I want to do it.” You looked back into the mirror with a frown. “It makes me look so...girly."

"But that's exactly what's so adorable about you."

Ren's eyes narrowed when you looked away, her face morphing back into a smile as she peered at you over your shoulder.

"You're a femboy. Of course, you’re going to look girly~"

"Don't call me that," You replied curtly, quickly looking back towards her, your face flushed and your expression angry. "That's...like, super fucking demeaning and offensive, Ren, whatever it is you’re trying to say-"

“Huh.” Ren cut you off and stood back, considering you for a moment with a wry tilt of her head. "You get…pretty upset when I call you a femboy, don't you?"

"Obviously," You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms with a huff. "It’s like…if you were offended at being called a…jail bait or a ‘legal loli’, or something.” She snorted with amusement and let out a high cackle of a laugh, obviously not taking the insult to heart like you did. Lucky her. “It's like you see me as a porno category or something...it's insulting."

“Well, sure, maybe it’s insulting if you take it that way,” She replied airily, both her hands behind her back as she took a few steps closer to you, her tail wagging again. “But you are a femboy. Just don’t take it so personally.” She grinned, showing off wet fangs. “You’re a feminine boy, hence, ‘femboy’. I’m just calling you what you are~”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my choice to look feminine, okay?” You bit back, pushing past her to sit on the rim of the bathtub, your head in your hands, long hair covering your face "If you let me cut my fucking hair again, maybe I wouldn’t-"

"You mean, if I allowed you the privilege of making yourself ugly for me?

You flinched as you felt Ren push a hand into your hair, pulling a grip of it hard and forcing your eyes up to hers, golden and shining with malicious intent.

"And why would I do that?” Her grin broadened. “I don’t know about you, but I'm very much enjoying looking at a pretty girl right now~"

Your face flushed a little darker and you bit down hard on your lip, trying your best to look away, so she didn’t see how much she was getting to you.

"I'm not a girl, Ren..." You murmured hotly.

"Are you sure?" Ren smirked, her fingers (her painted claws) running through strands of hair as she pulled your head up slightly, her curled fist at the base of your skull. “You know…you say you feel like a boy inside, but you definitely don't act like it.”

"Well...what would a boy act like?" You asked with a defensive glare. "If I'm not acting like one..."

"Maybe you'd put up more of a fight~" Ren teased, as she moved her free hand to your chin so she could tilt your head up slightly and meet your gaze more directly. "...You're not fighting me very hard right now. And I’m, like, way weaker and shorter than you. Maybe you secretly like being called a girl?"

"No…" You murmued, trying to pulls back from her grip.

“It’s easier though, isn’t it?” She asked, with a thoughtful tilt of her head, not letting you pull away, even an inch. She was stronger than she looked, no matter what she said to the contrary. “To not have to work so hard, to give in, to let everything just…happen to you, right? That’s kind of, like,” She paused with a thoughtful expression before laughing again. “The only perk to being a girl, you know.”

You were quiet as she pressed closer, the wisps of her short hair (because she was allowed to have short hair and you weren’t) caressing your cheek as her pixie-pointed nose pressed lightly against yours.

“You should try it…or, well, go back to it.” She tittered, rubbing her thumb over your stubbly chin. At least she let you keep your stubble (but for how long?) "Because you look like a girl. You act like a girl. You take everything way too fucking seriously like a girl.”

She brought her face close to yours, her breath warm on your flushed skin.

Her lips barely grazed yours, menacing, taunting.

"I bet you’d taste like a girl, too, if I kissed you."

“I-If?”

"If."

#ren hana #ren x mc #ren x reader #qs #drabbles #ren btd #trans people into forcefem. come here. i'm kissing you

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frickingnerd · 10 months

Text

no more what ifs

pairing: akira kurusu / ren amamiya / joker x gn!reader

summary: a look inside akira's diary reveals all the thoughts the boy has had about you, including his feelings for you..

"oooh, what's this~?"

akira and you had been waiting for the rest of the phantom thieves to join the two of you at leblanc and while you were upstairs, in his room, you were checking out the interior, when you came across a little notebook.

"huh?"

akira had been too busy looking at his phone, exchanging messages with ryuji in the group chat, to notice the little book in your hands. by the time he looked up and spotted it in your hands, it was already too late and you were flipping through the pages of it.

"w-wait, that's not something you should be seeing!"

he shouldn't have said that, because now you knew you had to find out what he was keeping a secret in here!

"is this a diary?"

you turned one page after another at a rapid speed, just glancing at the pages, before moving on to the next one, before you found a certain side that caught your attention.

"you looked so pretty today, y/n. i could barely look at you, without my face turning red. though i wished i could see you like this more often. your beauty had me captivated and i could swear i feel in love with you even further"

you quietly read the words out loud, your cheeks turning red as you realized what you were just reading. was this a confession?

"y/n, give me that!"

akira had gotten up by now, quickly snatching the notebook from your hands. his face almost had the same color as yours – a dark red! just by seeing your face, akira knew that you had read at least one of his confessions he had written down in his notebook.

"s-sorry, i… i didn't know that you…"

"can we just… forget about this?"

akira sighed softly and stepped back, letting himself fall onto his bed.

"n-no, i–"

his eyes widened as you told him no. why wouldn't you want to forget this? it was absolutely embarrassing, having his crush find out he liked them thanks to his unfiltered thoughts being written down like this.

"i don't want to forget…"

"and why wouldn't you…?"

akira could swear that your red cheeks darkened even more.

"because… what you wrote there was really sweet. and… sometimes, i have similar thoughts. about you…"

now akira was the one who could swear his cheeks somehow got even more red.

"you do…?"

he got up from his bed again, slowly walking towards you.

"i do…"

the gap between you closed and akira now stood in front of you, smiling down on you.

"then… would you mind if i… kissed you?"

if you had flipped down a few pages further, you would've seen more of his unfiltered thoughts about you, including a detailed paragraph about how kissable your lips looked.

"only if i get to read a bit more from your diary~"

akira chuckled and leaned in, his lips hovering close to yours.

"deal~"

he whispered, before gently pressing his lips onto yours.

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earthtooz · 10 months

Text

x : AVOIDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.

warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing

a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child <3

when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.

however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.

you never expected to find love either.

but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.

“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.

“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”

“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”

the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.

“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.

“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”

“bye!”

hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.

when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.

how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.

love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one.

but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.

it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.

“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.

“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”

“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”

the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.

as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.

it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.

“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”

“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”

“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”

“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.”

the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”

“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.

“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”

“mk.”

you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.

or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.

suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.

“going somewhere?” kafka asks.

picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”

“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”

“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”

“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”

“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief.

it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key.

whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.

“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”

“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.

“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”

kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.

“do you know anything about that?”

“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.

the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.

“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.

“why not you?”

“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”

“okay. fine.”

when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.

it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.

the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.

gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving.

he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated.

(if only he knew).

a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.

“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?”

kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.

“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”

“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”

“he does that all the time.”

“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.”

you freeze. “what?”

“hm? did i say something peculiar?”

inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.

“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz.

she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?”

“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is.

no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.

and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.

“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”

“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”

“nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“positive?”

you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”

“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”

panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”

“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”

“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”

“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”

you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.

“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”

“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration.

“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.

“yeah. it is.”

“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”

“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”

“is that bad?”

“for my heart, yes.”

“oh my- so you like him?”

you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”

the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.

“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”

your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.

kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.

“hi,” you start, looking away.

he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.

“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively.

instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you.

(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)

“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.

#this was awful </3 #blade x reader #blade hsr x reader #ren x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn!reader #blade x gn!reader #blade fluff #blade x reader fluff

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sunny-speaks · 10 months

Text

Hacker! Ren Headcanons

Basically just hc’s abt what ren does in his free time watching u, yk, normal stuff

Character(s): Ren/[REDACTED] from @14dayswithyou and mild mention of Harper from @/campwillowpeak

A/N: Definitely check out Camp Willowpeak if you have the time! Great VN in progress!

Trigger warnings: Minor panic attack after ‘And it is the worst feeling in all of Corland Bay.’

Um, mention of NSFW and kinks etc. Minors DNI !

Ren spends every waking hour of the day trying to be as close to you as he can possibly muster.

He just wants to be there with you in some shape or form!

The best days for him are the weekends, you don’t have to work and you can stay home all day if you choose to!

Some of his favorite things to watch you do is watch your anime, read fanfiction and a bunch of other things that help with his research.

When you indulge in your fixations, it helps Ren change himself accordingly to whatever you like at the moment!

You like science-y guys? Luckily for you, he took Biology and Chemistry in high school!

Totally not to figure out how to kill people effectively or clean up bloodstains, what???

You like artsy guys? He makes these amazing collages and collections of photography! Also took painting and art in high school!

Once again, totally not because he wanted the best drawings/paintings of you or the best high quality photos for his shrine, whaaat???

But having you read fanfiction is much more interesting to him.

He can see the types of characters you like to read about, your favorite genre, your favorite pairings, your favorite character dynamics…

Whether you prefer sunshine characters with a dark side, characters who look like they could kill you but are actually cinnamon rolls, two idiots + one brain cell, it’d all help him further his agenda of manipulating you to love him making him perfect for you!

And if you go into the NSFW section? He is frothing at the mouth.

This is his chance!! He can figure out what you prefer in the bedroom and win you over with his seduction skills! (not that he needs any ofc… have u seen him??? His dick is like 10 inches, that's a seduction skill on its own…)

(and maybe sometimes he takes advantage of the cameras around your place to listen in and watch you do some�� intimate activities)

Whether you like submissive guys or dominant guys or service tops or brats, Ren is all for it! If you’re into some kinky shit, he might not be too into it, but he’ll give it a try for you!!

But if you share one of his massive kinks (ex. Breeding, marking) dude, you are so fucked.

Ren is straight up praying to his shrine that he can be the only one to fulfill your desires because, whoa, he would be soo good to you if you gave him a chance. He would literally cry if you wanted him to do whatever he liked to you.

Also you both like the same shit??? You were clearly meant to be!!

He sees you scrolling on social media and calling yourself delulu? (just like him ong) Don’t worry, he’ll be there so you can fufill your delusions!!

You’ll never have to be delusional again now that you have him!!

Ren saw you scroll through your Tumblr feed, seemingly spending hours lurking on this one account of… Camp Treepeak, or something. It irked him when he saw you focusing on this one character who had you swooning.

So what if that dumb brunette was 6’9’’??? So what if he was a pyromaniac??? He was just a dumb game character, Ren was real! Besides, Ren was more than sure that those missing 4 inches of height between and that fictional guy went somewhere… else.

You didn’t know what you were missing out on!! Ren was right there, always waiting for you to notice him! If you gave him even the smallest chance, he’d swoop in and make your life a living romance visual novel if you wanted!

He could be anyone you wanted him to be! At all! If that’s what it takes for him to be yours, he’d do it in a heartbeat!

(I have brought this up before lmao) Would absolutely be down to try and cosplay any character you aggressively rave about to Moth.

While he absolutely detests Moth for being the one that you go to with this stuff, he can’t deny that it's useful for him to tap into the call, mute Moth on his own end and listen to you go on and on about whatever you’re rambling about at the moment.

Your voice is so pretty, like a canary… Birds remind him of freedom in some way, some days Ren would like to keep you captive, hide you away from the world.

But then he looks at himself in the mirror and he sees his father stare back.

And it is the worst feeling in all of Corland Bay.

He hums to himself, listening to you talk on and on to Moth but can’t help and think, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if I was the only one they ever sang to?’ and it sends Ren into a spiral of dark thoughts he immediately dry heaves at.

He’s trying so hard to focus on your melodic tone before he pants over the sink, body shaking. No, no, no, no.

No. He is not psychopathic. You are not something he can own. You are not his. That is not his decision. You have your voice. You are your own person.

“Hey, you alright?” Your calming voice shakes him out of his stupor. Of course, it did. It helped him get through nightmares, through hungover evenings where he just wanted to be with you, past his job when he felt demotivated.

Subconsciously, he knew you were just talking to Moth, but he couldn’t help but respond. “Y-yeah. I think so.”

“Mm, I feel that.”

Wow, maybe if he squinted, the two of you could be having a conversation! If it wasn’t for that lingering thought of his bastard dad, he would’ve been giggling on the couch, kicking his feet and twirling his hair.

…He was really getting into his Ren persona, wasn’t he…?

“Look, cheer up, things get better. I mean, my job’s no walk in the park, but it’s about the small wins!” He could hear the grin in your voice, you always managed to bring your emotions through audio, “Like, like! The other day, some guy on the street saw my subtle Attack on Giants jacket and stopped to me and said―”

“ ‘Yoo, is that AOG?’ “ Ren repeated the same words with a small smile on his face. He remembered how you reined in your expression before your face lit up as soon as you were by yourself.

You sighed and chuckled at whatever Moth had replied. “No, I am not a huge nerd. I simply have good taste. Oh yeah, remember how I told you about that one skater boy–” and your voice faded to background noise again.

Ren took a couple deep breaths to calm himself. He wasn’t his sperm donor, he’d be better. For you.

And the rest of his nights would be spent, adoringly adding to your shrine and his collection of your items.

Then he would lay in bed, clutching a pillow, wishing it were you he had to cuddle with but could settle for the plush, soft object until he finally won you over.

(personal headcanon that ren has one of those like, duck filled pillows he hugs instead of his stuffed toys which he leaves on display. Sometimes all the body parts just get in the way and he just wants to hug something soft… :(( like you :(( )

Which he would… one day.

#14 days with you #ren 14dwy #ren x reader #yandere #visual novel #ren 14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy ren #🧨headcanons #🌟small fic

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