#I feel like there should be other tws for this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fangdokja · 3 days ago

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🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

❤︎ Synopsis. He was the omnipotent author, the cruel god behind the screen—until he decided to step into the story himself, turning ink and paper into flesh and bone, pain and pleasure. Now, trapped within his twisted narrative, you are both his muse and his masterpiece, rewritten and defiled with every stroke of his pen.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Author x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Fate’s Final Draft - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 6,077

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, rape, psychological manipulation and conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, cannibalism + vore, gore, torture, death, angst + tragedy, bombing, penetration using objects, forced penetration, implied + slight masochism

♡ Yandere! Author, who never gets jealous. Not in the way normal people do. He doesn’t feel that tight coil of possessiveness, that human bitterness. No, his jealousy is something far worse—something that twists, mutates, and takes shape in the form of a game.

"You’re distracted," he says, voice lilting, amused. "Your attention is... scattered. Like a kitten chasing too many strings."

He taps his fingers against his chin, head tilting in mock thought. "And here I thought you’d learned by now. That the only string worth chasing is mine."

♡ Yandere! Author, who watches you interact with others, not with anger, but with a quiet, lingering curiosity.

"You’re always so helpful, aren’t you?" he hums, stepping closer, his breath warm against your ear. "So kind. Picking up strays, offering soft words, being the ever-so-gentle protagonist. How utterly dull."

He chuckles, a sharp, manic edge cutting through the sound.

"But I suppose it’s my fault," he sighs. "I’ve been far too lenient with you. Letting you walk around, letting you play with all these little characters. Letting you breathe."

His eyes darken, his grin stretching too wide.

"I should remind you of what happens when you take my attention for granted."

♡ Yandere! Author, who crafts stories of tragedy and despair, who delights in pain and suffering like a composer weaving a symphony.

"But this time," he says, fingers tracing idly along your arm, "I won’t just watch."

His grip tightens, just enough to make you feel it.

"You like playing hero, don’t you? Always trying to defy the script, to make things better for others?" He exhales a mockingly wistful sigh. "How sweet. How naive."

A shiver of amusement runs through him as he leans in, whispering against your skin.

"So let’s play a little game, shall we?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who spins scenarios of horror and despair, who orchestrates nightmares with the precision of a masterful puppeteer.

"Tell me," he muses, voice dripping with saccharine malice. "How do you think your precious little cast would react if they saw you... like this?"

He hums, thoughtful.

"Torn apart. Begging. Ruined."

His fingers brush against your throat, slow, deliberate.

"Would they still look at you the same way? Would they still adore you?" His voice drops lower, threading with something almost gentle, almost loving. "Would you?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who always remained an observer, a sadistic god behind the screen, watching his creations squirm.

But now?

Now, he’s stepped into the story.

And this time, he’s the one writing the scene.

────────────

You woke up to the cold, sticky embrace of blood-soaked earth beneath you, the metallic scent of death thick in the air.

♡ Yandere! Author towered above you, his silhouette framed by the flickering candles scattered around the room, casting eerie shadows across the faces of the lifeless bodies that surrounded you.

His eyes gleamed with a dark excitement as they raked over you, and he licked his lips in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "Look what you've done, my dear," he mused, gesturing to the carnage.

"You've made me clean up your mess again."

You stared at the decapitated heads, the sight of their vacant eyes hauntingly familiar, as he stepped closer, his foot squelching in the pool of crimson beneath your trembling form.

"I hope you're ready for your punishment," he said, his voice a dark, seductive purr that made your stomach twist with fear and disgust.

"You've been a very naughty girl, making me jealous like that." His hand reached for the hem of your top, and you knew that this night was going to be one of the worst you'd ever endure.

As ♡ Yandere! Author tore the fabric from your body, leaving you exposed to the chilling air, you felt his anger like a living force, a palpable entity that wrapped around you, squeezing until you couldn’t breathe. "You think you can play games with me?" he hissed, his fingers digging into your skin.

"You think you can ignore me and flirt with my characters?" He grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with a possessive fury that made you feel like you were drowning.

"You belong to me," he spat, the words echoing in your ears like a curse.

"And I will show you exactly what that means." His touch grew rougher, more punishing, as he yanked your legs apart, the sound of his zipper like a gunshot in the tense silence.

With a sadistic smile, ♡ Yandere! Author positioned himself between your thighs, his erection a blunt, unyielding presence against your trembling flesh.

"Look around you," he ordered, gesturing to the grisly scene.

"These are the consequences of your disobedience. Your carelessness." He leaned in, his breath hot and rancid. "Do you like your audience?"

♡ Yandere! Author didn't wait for a response, thrusting into you with a brutal force that made you scream.

The dead eyes of the characters you once knew bore into you, a silent, damning judgment as he claimed you again and again, each stroke a declaration of his dominance. The pain was intense, a stark reminder that you were his plaything, his to manipulate and control.

♡ Yandere! Author grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, while the other trailed down your body, leaving a path of shivers in its wake.

His grip tightened, his teeth sinking into your neck as he slammed into you, your cries muffled by his mouth. You could feel the sticky warmth of blood from the nearby corpses, a morbid reminder of his power as he fucked you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and arousing.

The smell of death and decay filled the air, mixing with the scent of sex and sweat.

♡ Yandere! Author didn't bother to clean you up; he liked the mess, the reminder of what he'd done.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

"So vulnerable, so fucking perfect." His other hand found your throat, squeezing gently.

"You're mine. Do you understand?" He emphasized his words with a particularly vicious thrust, making you gag.

His eyes gleamed with a twisted mix of pleasure and malice as he watched you struggle under him, surrounded by the grisly remnants of his narrative wrath.

♡ Yandere! Author had always enjoyed the thrill of watching his characters suffer, but there was something uniquely satisfying about seeing you, the protagonist he had grown to both despise and adore, at his mercy.

His grip on your throat tightened as he pumped into you, the warm, sticky mess of blood and gore from the slain characters around you coating both of you, a macabre reminder of his power.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice a harsh rasp. "Look at me when I fuck you."

You refused, turning your head away and doing your best to muffle your voice.

With a snarl of frustration, he reaches for his signature fountain pen, the gleaming silver instrument that had so often been the harbinger of fate in his grimdark narratives.

♡ Yandere! Author presses the tip of the pen against your left eyelid, watching with a perverse fascination as your pupil contracts in terror.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a harsh whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "Or would you rather I show you how serious I am?"

Before you can react, he drives the pen straight into your eye, the sharp tip piercing the tender flesh with ease. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching in agony as the warm, wet sensation fills your socket.

The world goes blurry, your vision obscured by a curtain of pain, but you can still feel him thrusting into you, his movements growing more erratic and frenzied as he watches you suffer.

The pen digs deeper, the ink mixing with your tears and blood, painting a crimson streak down your cheek.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out the pen, leaving your eye a ruin, and throws it aside with a satisfied smirk.

"Scream all you want," he says, his voice dripping with malice.

"They can't hear you." He gestures to the lifeless bodies that surround you, their vacant eyes seemingly watching the gruesome display with silent judgment.

♡ Yandere! Author leans in closer, his breath hot against your face as he whispers, "But I can. And I fucking love it." His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply until your vision starts to darken at the edges.

With a twisted smile, he reaches for the second pen, the gleaming metal reflecting the sickly light from the candles scattered around the room.

You can feel the anticipation coiling in his muscles, the thrill of his sadistic desires about to be satiated once again. He presses the tip against your other eye, watching you with a mix of hunger and disgust as you whimper and squirm beneath him.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice low and filled with malice. "Look at what you've made me do."

You try to turn your head away, but his grip is unyielding.

The cold steel of the pen pierces the soft flesh of your right eyelid, and you can feel the warmth of your blood trickle down your cheek.

The pain is blinding, stealing the last semblance of dignity you had. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing your screams. You bite your lip until you taste blood, your eyes struggling to squeeze shut tightly, trying to block out the horror of what's happening.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a dark symphony of desire and anger. "Look at the monster you've created."

With a sadistic flourish, ♡ Yandere! Author plunges the second pen into your right eye, the sharpened tip digging into the delicate tissue.

You feel a burst of searing agony as your eyeball ruptures under the intrusion, the gelatinous fluid mingling with the sticky blood already coating your face.

The pen slices through the ocular nerve, sending a shockwave of pain that echoes through your entire body.

You can't help but scream now, the sound a raw, primal wail that fills the room, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the ears of the lifeless figures around you.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with perverse pleasure as he watches you writhe and squirm beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author swirls the pen around in the bloody mess that was once your eye, the metal grinding against the bone socket. "Scream for me, my little protagonist. Show everyone how much you enjoy this."

With a grunt of pleasure, he starts to thrust into you harder, the squelching sound of your mutilated flesh a symphony to his ears. His grip on your throat tightens even more, cutting off your air supply and turning your screams into desperate gasps.

Each movement of his hips sends fresh waves of agony through your body, the pain from your ruined eyes mixing with the brutal violation of your most intimate space.

You feel his hot breath on your cheek, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispers sweet nothings about how much you're his, how he's going to make sure you never forget this moment.

His lust spikes at the sound of your gargled screams, the sight of your ruined eyes, and the feel of your squirming body beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls the pen out of your right eye with a wet pop, a grin of sick satisfaction on his face as you try to clutch at the empty socket, only to encounter the sticky mess of your own blood and viscous fluid.

He throws the pen aside, his focus now fully on your suffering and the ragged sounds of your breathing. He grabs your chin, forcing your face towards his, his other hand digging into your hip. His eyes, now wild with desire, bore into yours—what's left of them—as he starts to fuck you with a fervor that borders on violence.

His eyes gleam with a twisted hunger as he brings your ruined right eye closer to his mouth. You can feel his breath hot and heavy on your face, his tongue darting out to taste the coppery tang of your blood.

With a sickening slurp, ♡ Yandere! Author begins to lick around the wound, his tongue swirling in the bloody mess that was once your eye. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, a mix of revulsion and pain that makes you want to scream, but his hand around your throat won't allow it.

His teeth clamp down on the gelatinous flesh, tearing a chunk of it away from the socket.

He chews, savoring the taste of your suffering, your essence, the very core of your being. You feel him swallow, the motion sending a bolt of horror through your body that's almost as intense as the agony of his teeth in your face.

He laughs, the sound echoing through the room of dead characters, their lifeless forms a silent audience to your degradation.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs harder as he consumes more of your eyeball, his teeth tearing into the delicate flesh and crunching through the gelatinous interior.

The sound is obscene, a symphony of his depravity playing out in the quiet room of the dead. Each bite sends a jolt of horror through your body, but the pain is a distant second to the realization of what he's doing.

Your mind reels, trying to process the grotesque intimacy of the act, the ultimate violation of your bodily autonomy.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls away, the last piece of your eyeball still caught between his teeth, his grin wider and more sadistic than ever. He leans in and whispers, "Mmm, so sweet," his breath hot against your ear, before swallowing the final piece.

He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing it across your cheek. "You're so much more entertaining when you fight back," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

His other hand slides down your body, finding its way between your legs. He groans in pleasure as he feels the wetness there. "It's a shame you're not enjoying this more. I've written some of my best work when my characters are in pain." His fingers delve deeper, the pressure increasing until you're writhing beneath him.

As you try to struggle away from his vile touch, the his grip on your throat tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh around your windpipe.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs darkly, the sound echoing through the room like a chilling symphony of madness. "Oh, so you want to play hard to get?" His free hand reaches for the pen still stuck in your left eye socket, the metal now cold and slick with your blood.

"Let's see if this loosens you up a bit, shall we?" He says, a twisted glint in his eye as he pushes the pen deeper, the pain making your vision swim.

You feel the sickening crunch of your socket collapsing under the pressure, and the warm, wet sensation of your eye popping out, leaving nothing but a gaping hole filled with his digit.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out his hand, bringing with it a fountain of crimson.

The room spins around you, and the world turns red with your agony. He holds up the ruined mess that was once your eye, examining it with a disturbing fascination. "This is what you get for making me jealous, you little whore."

He tosses it aside, the wet slap of it hitting the floor making you want to vomit. His hand moves back to your throat, squeezing harder, cutting off your air.

♡ Yandere! Author yanks you back down onto the makeshift bed of lifeless bodies, the cold, sticky blood of your former companions seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

His other hand is on your chin, forcing your face up to look at him. "You're going to scream for me now, aren't you?" His smile is wide, his teeth glinting in the flickering candlelight.

"You're going to scream like you've never screamed before, because this is your grand finale, isn't it?"

With a final, brutal thrust, he pulls out of your ravaged pussy, his cock slick with your blood and the juices of your pain.

♡ Yandere! Author grabs you by the hair and forces your head back, aiming his thick, pulsing shaft at your face. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it spurts out, painting your cheeks and filling your eye sockets with his seed.

The salty, bitter taste coats your tongue as he pushes into your mouth, his grip on your throat tightening.

He fucks your face with the same fervor he did your eyes, his hips bucking as he empties himself into you. Your throat is raw from his earlier assault, but you swallow his cum without protest, the taste of his dominance overwhelming your senses.

"Look at you," he pants, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. "Such a good little slut, taking it all for your master."

♡ Yandere! Author releases your chin and wipes the last droplets of cum onto your cheek with his thumb, smearing it into your skin. "You never did know how to pick your battles, did you?"

His grin widens as he positions himself above you, the bloody corpse of your recent companion lying between your legs, your vision nothing but a blur of pain.

His cock, still slick with your tears and blood, slides back into your ruined eye sockets. You can feel the warmth of his semen coating the inside, the sensation sickeningly intimate.

♡ Yandere! Author starts to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands gripping your hair tightly as he uses the leverage to push even deeper. You want to scream, to beg for mercy, but all you can do is whimper, your throat raw from his previous assault.

The pain is unbearable, a symphony of agony that resonates through your entire being.

"Do you feel that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "The warmth of your storyline being rewritten, the essence of your existence being claimed by me?"

His thrusts become more vigorous, the sounds of squelching and slapping echoing through the room. The dead characters seem to watch in morbid fascination, a silent audience to your suffering. "You’re mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek. "Every part of you, every drop of your despair—it’s all mine to savor."

You try to scream, but the only sound that leaves your throat is a wet gurgle. The pain is unbearable, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body, making you feel like you're being torn apart from the inside.

Yet, you find yourself unable to move, to fight back, your body a puppet to his twisted narrative. The warmth of his cum in your eye sockets feels like molten lead, a constant reminder of the horror of your new reality.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out of you with a smirk, watching as his semen leaks from your eye sockets, mixing with the blood and gore of the room.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at the carnage around you. "You see this?" he says, gesturing to the mutilated bodies.

"This is what happens when you don't belong to me. This is what happens when you dare to think you can have a story without me."

His grip tightens, his thumb pressing into the raw flesh of your cheek. "But don't worry, I'll always be here to save you. To use you. To make you feel alive." He laughs, the sound echoing through the room, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. "You're going to love the next chapter, my sweet, obedient little bitch."

Your don't give in.

But your silent, weak struggle only serves to fuel the his desire.

♡ Yandere! Author watches your defiance with a mix of amusement and annoyance, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of the challenge. He grabs you by the throat, his grip tightening as he hoists you up, your feet dangling in the air. With a cruel smirk, he slams you down onto the floor, the impact jolting through your broken body.

His eyes flash with a dark excitement at your silent defiance.

He's always loved a challenge, and your refusal to break is just another delicious twist in the story he's crafting. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a third fountain pen, its nib gleaming in the dim light.

Without a moment's hesitation, he aligns it with your already abused vagina, the cold metal sending a shiver of fear through your body.

"Let's see if I can make you scream," he whispers, his voice a chilling promise of more pain to come.

With a swift, brutal motion, he drives the pen into you, the nib slicing through your flesh with an ease that speaks of his practiced cruelty.

You bite back a scream, but a gasp of agony slips through your teeth.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in your skull like a death knell, as he starts to move the pen in and out of you.

As his third pen plunges into you, the sharp nib tears through your tender flesh with a sickening sound that makes your stomach churn. Blood and fluids mingle, creating a macabre painting around his twisted tools of domination.

You feel the metal slide in and out of your violated body, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of agony that crashes over you like a crimson tide. The sensation of being impaled by something so cold and unyielding is almost too much to bear, but the pain is a reminder that you're still alive—still the star of his twisted story.

With a sadistic smirk, ♡ Yandere! Author watches your body convulse around the third pen lodged deep within your cervix.

The agony is palpable, painting your face with the colors of despair as you try to scream through your bruised and bloodied throat.

The warmth of your insides clench around the cold metal, a stark contrast that sends shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He twists the pen slightly, eliciting a guttural sound from you, one that is a mix of pain and unwilling arousal. The gore that surrounds you, the lifeless bodies of the characters he's discarded, only serves to amplify the depravity of his act.

♡ Yandere! Author stands back, his eyes gleaming with a twisted mix of triumph and fascination.

He leaves the pen inside you, allowing the pain to linger, to become a part of you.

You can feel the cold, unyielding metal pressing against your inner walls, a constant reminder of his dominance and the horrors he's inflicted upon you. Your body shakes, a silent scream echoing through the room as the pain turns to a dull throb that you know won't be leaving you anytime soon.

His hands are slick with your blood as he effortlessly picks you up from the floor. You're too weak to fight, your body a mess of pain and violation.

♡ Yandere! Author wraps his strong arm around your neck, his grip tight enough to cut off air, yet not tight enough to end your misery.

You gasp, your eyes watering from the pressure as he drags you across the floor, the coldness of the tiles sending shockwaves through your bruised and abused body.

He reaches up, looping a thick rope around a sturdy beam in the ceiling, and your heart sinks as you realize his next twisted act.

With a sadistic chuckle, he ties the noose around your neck, pulling it tight enough to leave an angry red ring around your throat. He makes sure your wrists, ankles, and everything essential is tied securely to prevent any chances of escape.

♡ Yandere! Author places the chair beneath you, the wood digging into your legs as he lifts you up, your toes barely grazing the floor.

"You're going to hang there," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "until I say otherwise. Think about what you've done, my little muse. Think about how you've made me feel."

His grip on you tightens as you hang from the noose, the pain in your neck a constant reminder of his dominance. Your legs kick out, desperately searching for purchase on the floor below, but find none.

The chair wobbles precariously beneath you, the only thing keeping you from the agony of strangulation.

You can feel his hot, heavy breath against your pussy, his chuckles reverberating through his chest and into yours. His free hand snakes down, reaching between your legs to grasp the bloody pen still lodged inside you, twisting it cruelly. You whimper, the sound muffled by the noose, and your body involuntarily tightens around the object, a sickening mix of pain and arousal.

His grin widens as he pulls out a handful of dynamite sticks from his toolbox, each one glinting in the dim light.

♡ Yandere! Author waves them in front of your face, the smell of gunpowder and fear thick in the air. His eyes are alight with sadistic glee as he explains his next twisted plot twist.

“You see, my dear, I’ve been saving these for a very special occasion. And what better way to celebrate our little bond than with a little… fireworks display?” He chuckles darkly, his voice a serrated knife cutting through the silence.

You gasp for air, the noose biting into your neck as he plays with the explosives. His cruel fingers trace over the dynamite, leaving smudges of your blood on their surfaces.

♡ Yandere! Author seems to revel in the horror etched into your features, the way your body convulses and writhes under his touch.

“But don’t worry, my pet,” he coos, his voice a mockery of comfort. “You won’t be alone in your little performance. After all, what’s a show without an audience?” He gestures to the lifeless bodies scattered around the room, their sightless eyes seemingly watching the grisly scene unfold.

His hands are a blur of movement, the dynamites' sticks pressing against your flesh as he ruthlessly inserts each one into your violated body. You whimper and squirm, the pain unbearable, but he only laughs, the sound echoing through the room like a twisted symphony. His eyes are alight with a perverse glee as he watches you suffer.

"You see," he says, his voice a purr of sadistic pleasure, "the story needs a climax. And what better way than a grand explosion?"

He presses the last stick of dynamite into you, pushing it deep until it's nestled alongside the pen that still remains lodged in your cervix. Your body shudders with revulsion, and you feel a warm trickle of blood run down your thighs.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out a sleek, silver lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a practiced ease that sends a shiver down your spine.

He holds the flame up to one of the dynamite sticks protruding from your body, watching you with a twisted smile as the flicker of fire dances in his eyes.

The room fills with the acrid scent of burning fuse as ♡ Yandere! Author lights each dynamite stick with a sickening relish, the flames licking up your body, burning against the tender flesh of your inner thighs and the cold steel of the pens and the chair.

You scream in agony as the fire spreads, the heat searing your skin and the explosive pressure threatening to tear you apart from the inside out. Your eyes are already gone, but the pain is so intense it feels like you’re seeing stars, your vision a swirl of fiery red and black.

The pens in your body are forgotten for a moment as the dynamite becomes the center of your world, a twisted phallus of destruction that promises to end your story in a blaze of glorious carnage.

♡ Yandere! Author steps back, admiring his handiwork. "This is your grand finale, my love," he says, his voice thick with perverse pleasure.

"The ultimate climax of your tragic tale. How fitting that it ends with you, my muse, writhing in the throes of a passionate, explosive death." He licks his lips, his gaze raking over your suspended, burning form with a hunger that’s as palpable as the heat from the dynamite.

You’re his masterpiece, and he’s about to watch it burn.

With a wicked chuckle, he steps away from you, slamming the heavy, bolted door shut with a resounding clang that echoes through the room. The sound is like a death knell, cutting off your cries for mercy.

♡ Yandere! Author watches you through the small, reinforced window, his eyes gleaming with sadistic excitement as your body writhes in pain. The dynamite hisses and crackles, the flames licking closer and closer to the explosive core, painting your tortured cries in a symphony of agony.

Your desperate attempts to free yourself are futile.

The ropes are tight, digging into your wrists and ankles, leaving you suspended and helpless. The dynamite sticks burn and hiss, filling the room with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the sickeningly sweet scent of your own burning flesh. You can feel the heat radiating from within, the explosives stretching you to your limits as your body fights against the intrusion.

Each twitch and squirm sends shockwaves of pain through you, the pens in your eye sockets and vagina a constant reminder of his dominance.

Your vision is a haze of red and black, the world around you a swirling maelstrom of agony.

The dynamite reaches its crescendo, the hissing and crackling suddenly giving way to a deafening roar. The explosion rips through the room with the force of a thousand suns, the blast wave tearing into your body as it erupts from within.

The pens that were once lodged in your flesh are now shrapnel, shredding your insides as the explosion rips through your core. Your screams of agony are swallowed by the inferno, your body contorting in a dance of pure, unbridled pain.

The explosion is a symphony of destruction, your body the instrument he plays to compose a macabre masterpiece of carnage. The pens, once cold and lifeless, are now molten metal searing through your flesh, painting the walls and floor with your blood. The blast sends shards of wood and glass flying, piercing your skin and embedding themselves in the bodies of the slain characters that lay around you, turning their silent vigil into a grisly tableau of pain.

♡ Yandere! Author steps into the room, the acrid smoke still lingering from the explosion. His eyes are alight with a manic glee as he looks upon the carnage—your remains a grotesque tapestry of gore and shredded flesh.

He claps his hands together, the sound echoing in the silence, a standing ovation for the horror show you've unwillingly become.

♡ Yandere! Author approaches your ruined form with a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Ah, my dear protagonist," he coos, "such a beautiful spectacle of suffering. But the story isn’t over yet."

He reaches down, his hand disappearing into the mess of your remains, and pulls out the still-glowing pen embedded in your shattered pelvis.

"Look how you've been marked by my narrative," he says, holding it up to inspect the crimson coating. The heat from the explosion has made it hot, almost searing his hand, but he seems unfazed by the pain.

♡ Yandere! Author then picks up your torn heart, bringing it closer to his twisted smile, his teeth sinking into the remains of the flesh, as if it's a ripe apple. He chews slowly, savoring the metallic taste of your blood mingling with the charred meat. "Mmm," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours, "still beating. How utterly fascinating."

The room is a macabre tableau of destruction, and he is the artist, standing over your shattered body with a grin that splits his face like a chasm.

♡ Yandere! Author chews thoughtfully, your heart’s rhythmic thumps echoing in his mouth as he speaks around it. "You're still alive," he says, his voice sticky with your blood. "I never said I’d let you die so easily."

His words are a taunt, a promise of more to come, and as much as you want to scream, to rail against the pain and the horror, you can’t. Your vocal cords are gone, torn away by the explosion.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in the blood-soaked room.

He drops your heart into the palm of his hand, watching it pulse weakly as he speaks. "You see, my dear, death is for those who dare to bore me. And as much as I'd love to end this little… narrative, you're not quite ready to leave the stage."

He strokes the heart with his thumb, a twisted affection in his eyes. "Not until I've had my fill of your suffering."

♡ Previous Part. He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

♡ A/N. Sex without true danger is boring as shiz. And yanderes without the fear factor aren't peak yanderes. They're just on the possessive or vanilla shiz. Pathetic. Yanderes have to actually scare the shiz out of you. Because that's how true horror is. It doesn't even have to be gore, of course! These are my rules for myself when writing my "true yanderes". But, I suppose most authors don't want to severely hurt, much less kill the darling, especially if they're actual readers. Aw, but don't worry, I'm different. None of you are truly safe in my stories ahaha. Anyways, this is the second part I was talking about for Yandere! Author. I was trying to find yandere horror content for actual sadistic yanderes that can and will kill the darling, but can't find anything! Ugh, people always want soft, sub, comedic, or braindead sex yanderes, and no true danger of actual MC suffering and death.... WHERE IS THE HORROR. It's always just either pure horror or baseline (or worse braindead smut) yanderes. No proper mixing and cooking of the elements! dsjkfalds I'm starving for content.... Fine, I'll do it myself. Yanderes that will hurt, and may kill you. Happy Valentines, you're welcome. uhahaha.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337 , @mocalocha

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

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marshmellowtea · 2 days ago

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ngl i'm a little worried that some of the reactions to mark s this episode are going to be very "people say they want characters dealing with trauma in complicated ways until they actually get them" but thankfully so far i haven't seen anything too egregious. still though to get out ahead of it i wanna pleasantly remind everyone that innie mark's trust (and body!) were violated in a pretty severe way, especially considering that he had very good reasons to not suspect helly was actually helena, and while that doesn't excuse him being an asshole to helly she literally shares the same face as the woman who raped him and lied to him and runs the company that's abusing him so yeah of course he's going to be handling it Really Fucking Badly, thank you for coming to my tedtalk!

#severance #severance spoilers #mark scout #marshy speaks #rape tw #especially since like. where is he going to get emotional/mental support for what happened there.#helly? he feels like he can't trust her for understandable reasons (even if they are unfair to her)#dylan? he just lost irving--they all did really but he's the one most openly grieving--and he's not equipped to handle this kind of thing #anyway. literally none of the innies are let's be real #milchick or any other lumon employee? let me just take a moment to laugh at the idea rn. haha. hahahaha!#yeah no. he's lost and dealing with this trauma and huge betrayal basically on his own #i can't even blame him for being hesitant to trust his friends at this point of COURSE he's scared to. especially helly!#it's part of what makes the situation so tragic! it's not fair to any of them! helena when i get you helena!#idk when that scene happened my brother went 'he should kill her' and my mark apologist sensors went off like YEAH he's being a dick but #can we like. look at the situation here. please. gklfdjalkdf

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babyblankyerror · 2 days ago

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Don't mind me just thinking that as some point Stanley had an actual friend in the streets and that friend so happened to have a lot in common with him.

They are always on the move but every now and then they catch up and then, one day he finds his friend (I imagine a girl but it doesn't really matter) all...broken. Turns out they were an older sibling and they wanted to reconcile with their sibling but... heartbreakingly, they were told they were disgusting for the life they led- along with many other awful things.

(Tw suicide)

"You're my best friend, (fake name)...if that's even your name" they say and Stanley is just knelt down with them, holding his only friend close "everytime I look at you it's like looking in the mirror"

And just like that something breaks in both of them as Stanley feels his pockets empty, the familiar weight of a gun gone as his friend stands up. He's too afraid to look but the 'click' gives it away as to where the gun is.

Stanley finds himself calling their friend's name, a silent plea as he asks for the gun back-

"You're my best friend, surely you don't want me to keep suffering" they say "You, out of everyone else, should know what it's like. I've seen it, the way you eye the edge of the roof too longingly even though you're afraid of height, the revolver in your car with only a bullet-"

"There's nothing left" His friend says "one day you're going to have that little hope ripped away from you too, you know? No one cares about folks like us"

"I care about you" Stanley finds himself saying

"But it's not me who you want to care for...just like it's not you who I want to care for" it hurts but Stanley knows they're right...deep down the similarities of one another were overshadowed by the similarities of their own siblings.

Stanley watched his friend(?) press the gun to their jaw and is unable to ask them not to so instead he closes his eyes, clenches his eyelids closed so hard he sees colorful spots fly in his blackened vision.

"Look at me" a hand tugs on the back of his hair, it's so familiar and violent from hands that were so caring once that Stanley let's his eyes fly open in shock

"I want you to watch because this is going to be you one day"

"N-no.." his voice doesn't sound his, it sounds foreign and small and...helpless. The pain in his heart agrees with his friend, it aches as he is powerless against the hold on his hair and his gun, hopeless as they pull the trigger and red obscures his vision.

Everything is a little blurry and quiet apart from what was once a gentle and familiar body hitting the floor with a THUMP.

#and the moment he goes to Ford and he is told to get away- its this moment that plays and a voice in his head that says “told you so”#like he truly believes that HE WILL DIE if his family doesnt want him anymore after witnessing this #this is important to me because its stanley faced with HIMSELF in a way #tw suicide #uwu #prompt #but very specific #stangst #stanley pines #gravity falls #stan pines

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zaldritzosrose · 3 days ago

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Like Real People Do (Jacaerys x Noble!Reader)

We are back with a milestone request from my darling @legitalicat, and I also gifting this to her as a birthday treat! See the request ask here!

Song - Like Real People Do by Hozier

Summary: You were like a beacon of comfort and normality for Jacaerys. His title didn't seem to weigh as heavy when he was with you. You made him feel 'normal', whatever that word meant. You made him feel like he was not a prince, not heir to the throne, but a real person.

TW: She/Her pronouns, afab reader, noble reader, no specific descriptions of reader, all fluff, this is sickeningly sweet and we may need a dentist after, Jacaerys being a gentleman.

Words: 3121

I had a thought, dear, however scary, about that night, the bugs and the dirt…

You hadn’t noticed it immediately. But Jacaerys had begun to spend a lot of time simply watching you. Even doing the most mundane of things.

The daughter of a noble house sworn to his mother, you now spent a lot of time on Dragonstone. Following your father as he swore his sword to Rhaenyra’s cause. You would accompany your father whenever he would venture to the island.

At first, you had stuck to his side as much as possible. Rhaenyra being made heir had prompted your father to begin to school you in more of a political light as the eldest daughter, so travelling to Dragonstone to watch your new Queen had become a source of fascination for you.

And the more time you spent on Dragonstone, the more time you began to spend in the prince’s company. Jacaerys was usually at his mother’s side, so for the most part the encounters were more formal.

But soon your father’s visits became more frequent which meant you made more effort to find more comfort and familiarity with the island.

Spending time on the beaches over in the castle. Simply walking and taking in the scenery around you.

This is what Jacaerys noticed first. And it fascinated him to no end.

Why were you digging? What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the earth?

As the war for the throne began to pick up traction, your father was occupied more and more. And he encouraged you to spend just a little more time exploring the island.

Today was one of those trips, wandering through the rocky hills as the sea air whipped at your hair.

But you weren’t alone this time. Too lost in the fresh, salty air, you didn’t notice the figure following a few paces behind you.

You descended to the beach, taking your shawl and setting it down to protect your gown from the sand. You absentmindedly drew patterns in the sand, letting the sound of the wind and waves wash over you.

But as the weather calmed, you heard another set of feet crunching in the sand. You moved to stand, immediately on edge.

Before you could say a word, Jacaerys spoke.

“Apologies, my lady, if I startled you?” he said gently, and you could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

You took a breath, brushing down your skirt before smiling.

“Oh, not to worry, my prince,” you tried smooth down your hair as you spoke, immediately regretting not braiding it for your walk.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment. This was the first time you had been truly alone with Jacaerys. Every other encounter had been somewhere within the walls of the castle, surrounded by any number of other people.

“I, uh, I apologise for my appearance, I was not expecting to be accompanied…” you mumbled, simply wanting to fill the silence somehow.

Jacaerys only chuckled. Maybe he should have made his presence known sooner? But he had found the way you took in your surroundings so interesting to simply observe. How relaxed you seemed, as if you’d shed the mask of your noble title. Something he wished he could do himself.

“Nothing to apologise for, I am the one that disturbed your solitude.”

You were surprised by how relaxed you felt, now that the initial surprise had dissipated. Maybe it was being out of the castle, out in the fresh air with no expectations for how you acted.

“You are welcome to join me, my prince?” you asked, silently hoping he would agree.

The prince smiled, there were no duties calling him back to the castle, though he likely should have been doing something. Maybe a bit of respite from the castle walls was what he needed?

“I would love that, my lady.”

You leaned down, spreading your shawl out as wide as you could so there was space enough for both of you. You settled yourself back down, returning your gaze to the sea before you. Jacaerys removed his cloak, doing as you had with your shawl. A little sand wasn’t going to do any harm.

As he sat, he took the chance to look at you, as he did whenever you entered a room. He took in just how lovely the sun was as it shone through your hair, how it began to illuminate your profile like a halo.

But what he enjoyed most, was how normal it felt to just sit beside you. He didn’t feel like a prince in this very moment, and it was thanks to you.

Of course, it helped that he truly did find you beautiful.

I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you…

How many hours passed, neither of you knew. But the weather soon took a turn, the sea air growing cold and the wind now more than a tolerable breeze.

Jacaerys noticed the way you tried to hide your shivers and took it upon himself to suggest you both return indoors.

“Shall we return? Dragonstone’s beaches can get quite cold in the evenings.” Jacaerys said softly, standing up and holding a hand for you to take.

And you took it gladly, letting him pull you to standing. Before you could even bend down to grab your own shawl, Jacaerys lifted his cloak to drape over your shoulders.

You kept your head down, trying desperately to hide the blush you knew had begun to bloom on your cheeks.

“Thank you, my prince. We should be quick then, so you do not freeze?” you teased, pulling his heavy cloak a little higher up on your shoulders.

Jacaerys nodded, grabbing your shawl from the ground and holding out his arm for you to take, his own cheeks growing pink as you took it.

“Please, would you call me Jacaerys?”

He didn’t miss the surprise on your face. You may have spent a lot of time in his presence, but using his name still felt extremely intimate. But the almost pleading look in his eyes was hard to ignore.

“I can try, I think. Though it will take some getting used to, so forgive me if I forget to,” you answered, hoping that was enough for now.

It earned you a soft smile, his appreciation clear.

He knew your upbringing would have been as ingrained in your psyche as his own. Calling a royal by their name would likely seem incomprehensible. Just as if he were to use your name, it would have felt quiet unusual.

But names were personal, intimate. Names had no status, no titles. And you made him forget his title with just your presence.

You both began to walk, your arm safely nestled through the crook of his elbow. You were halfway back to the castle when a thought crossed your mind.

“And mayhaps you should call me by my name then? Instead of my lady?” you asked, feeling a little disappointed as you saw the castle come into view in the distance.

Jacaerys smiled. He had heard your name whenever you were announced, a name as beautiful as the woman who owned it. It was only fair for him to use yours if he’d asked you to use his.

“That sounds fair. It can be something we allow for moments much like we shared today?”

He let his question linger. Silently asking for there to be more days like today, without having to embarrass himself asking.

“Our little secret…Jacaerys.”

Jacaerys felt his chest tighten at the sound of his name on your lips. The way you said it so gently as though you were still unsure about using it.

The rest of the walk to the castle continued in silence, but Jacaerys couldn’t take his eyes off you for most of it. There was something about you that kept drawing him in, something that made him desperate to keep you at his side.

You gave him a sense of normality, yes. But there was something else. Something that made his heart beat a little faster whenever you entered a room.

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do…

In the days that followed, Jacaerys’ mind kept returning to you. To sitting beside you on the beach, to the sound of his name on your lips, to the feel of your hand on his arm.

He tried to ignore the fluttered feeling in his stomach whenever he thought of you, but it was more than a challenge. His cloak still held the faintest scent of your perfume, which he had begun accustomed to being able to smell whenever he wore it.

You had returned home with your father the night before, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before you were back. The trips your father made were frequent, which he was now eternally grateful for.

He had stood at the castle walls as your ship left, still remembering the kiss to his cheek that you had snuck in when your respective parents were otherwise engaged.

A kiss that was still in his mind now as he tried to read the pile of parchments in front of him. Not a single word he read seemed to hold in his mind.

Every thought he had would somehow return to you.

I knew that look, dear, eyes always seeking, was there in someone that dug long ago…

You waited in anticipation for your father to tell you when his next trip to Dragonstone would be. There was no use in hiding it, you wanted to see Jacaerys again.

There was a sense of safety with him, you weren’t afraid to relax around. As he was with you. Whether it was only friendship, or something soon to be more, you didn’t know. But the mere thought of him gave you butterflies every time.

Each time you would see your father handed a letter, you hoped it would be a summons to Dragonstone again. But a couple of weeks went by and there was nothing.

You would go to sleep each night, silently wishing that the next morning would bring a letter.

Until one morning, your wishes were answered. Your father came down to breakfast, parchment in hand and looked immediately to you.

“Ready for another journey to our Queen, sweet daughter?” he asked, already chuckling at the fervent nod you gave him.

What you did not know, was that your father was more than aware of your affection for the prince, and he was more than supportive of it. To be in the prince’s good graces, was to be in the Queen’s and your father had long cemented himself as a pillar of loyalty for Rhaenyra.

The journey was planned for that evening, so you had no hesitation in hurriedly finishing your breakfast and leaving to pack your things. All your father’s journeys to Dragonstone were a week or two at best, so preparation was key.

So I will not ask you why you were creeping, in some sad way, I already know…

The ship arrived late into the night, the servants helping you, your father and the other members of your household collect your belongings and move them inside.

The castle was quiet, late enough that you were sure most of the royal family was already asleep. The sailings were not all that long, but there was little about them that you enjoyed. Yet, despite how tired you felt, you rarely found rest after one of those journeys.

You were all shown to your rooms, but you made no move to settle down. Even when exhaustion began to settle in your bones, you were a restless soul.

And Dragonstone at night? Well, that was something you had yet to experience to its fullest advantage.

The large castle seemed even grander in the darkness. The only light were the sconces on the walls and the chamberstick in your hand. You wandered the halls, paying mind to the rooms you knew were off limits no matter the time of day.

Your aimless wandering brought you to the library. Aside from the beach, it was one of your favourite places to visit. The tall bookcases that seemed to go on endlessly, the smell of old books. There was something so comforting about it all, despite it being far grander than the library in your own home.

But just like the beach all those weeks ago, you were not alone.

You couldn’t see him, tucked into a corner and hidden by the crammed bookcases. But Jacaerys had been in the library for most of the evening. The longer the war between his mother and uncle dragged on, the heavier the title of heir to the Iron Throne had begun to weigh on him.

And Jacaerys had never been more conscious of what others thought of him.

It was only when you heard the soft scrape of a chair did you realise you weren’t the only one hidden in the rows of dusty tomes.

“Is someone there?” you called, clutching your shawl around your shoulders.

When no one answered, you began to believe your mind was playing tricks on you. Until you heard some very familiar footsteps.

“It is just me,” Jacaerys responded, appearing from his corner with a soft smile.

You breathed a sigh of relief, walking closer to him.

“Jacaerys, I thought my mind was playing me for a fool, hearing things!” you laughed, setting the chamberstick down on the table beside him.

You took the chance to look him over. Maybe it was the candlelight, but he looked far more tired than usual.

“Are you well?” you asked, trying to keep your concern polite still.

Jacaerys sighed, his shoulders visibly sagging. Your presence was a comfort, a safe space where he could let his mask slip.

He sat down in a nearby chair. He was no longer a prince; he was simply a young man with the weight of seven kingdoms on his shoulders. As if by instinct, you moved closer to him.

Aside from the goodbye kiss to his cheek and the occasional soft touch of your hands, there hadn’t been much physical contact between you.

But you could immediately sense that he simply needed…something.

So I will not ask you where you came from, I would not ask and neither would you…

Your hand went to his shoulder first, standing between the chair in which he sat and the table. The touch was gentle, giving him the chance to pull away if he wished.

But Jacaerys didn’t want to. With you, he wasn’t a Targaryen prince, he wasn’t his mother’s heir.

He was just Jacaerys.

His hand raised to hold on to yours. Lacing his fingers and simply holding on to you.

How could he tell you how he was feeling? Would you think less of him? Would you think him weak?

But you were perceptive, and you could see the maelstrom of emotions behind his eyes.

“Jace…you can talk to me, you know that?” you asked softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

You only called him Jace when emotions were high. The last time had been when you had both said goodbye.

He sighed again. Why wouldn’t the words just come out?

“I…sometimes I wish I wasn’t the heir,”

Jacaerys hurried through the words, his voice barely a whisper but enough to hear.

Your face softened, though concern lingered in your gaze.

“And why is that?”

Your head tilted down to look at him as you spoke. Your hand moving from his shoulder to his cheek. The reasons weren’t something you were unaware of, but you knew he needed to talk it through.

“There are times I wish I could simply…be. To be able to live without the shadow of the throne at my back…”

His eyes closed as he leaned into your palm. With you, he felt like that could be possible. Since that day on the beach, you had respected his wish to not be seen as a prince. For his title to mean nothing whenever you were alone.

To let him be just a real person.

His eyes met yours and a soft smile tugged at his lips.

“I feel like that with you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, butterflies tingling in your stomach. Gentle waves of affection washing over you.

You made him feel safe. You made him feel comfortable. You made him happy.

“Jace…”

No more words left your lips as he pulled you closer. Wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his under your chin. You hesitated for only a moment before you returned his embrace. Resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

“You make me feel real,” he whispered, his voice muffled against your neck.

You were sure he could have felt the rapid thump of your heartbeat now. But his was beating just the same.

The words hung heavy between you. The feelings between you both had been unspoken since the beach. Though it was only a few weeks, the tension had only grown more with separation.

You didn’t know what to say, but you realised you didn’t need to say anything. Your lips pressed to his curls, tightening your arms around his shoulders.

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. We should just kiss like real people do…

The warmth of your lips on his skin was like a wave of calm. A balm to his tortured mind. Your mere presence seemed to hold the ability to fix his problems.

One of the hands on your waist moved to hold your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your palm.

But when his eyes met yours this time, there was only one thing he wished to do.

The kiss was gentle, tentative. But every ounce of love and affection that he held for you into it. The arm around your waist pulling you ever tighter into his hold.

And when the kiss broke, your leaned down to rest your forehead against his. Everything felt different, in the best way.

He was yours and you were his. For just a moment, Jacaerys could pretend he was just a normal person. He was happy and loved for who he was.

And you silently vowed to make it so he would feel that way forever.

I could not ask you where you came from. I could not ask and neither could you…

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. We could just kiss like real people do.

Jace Taglist:

@legitalicat @thenameswinter99 @sylasthegrim

@blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @multyfangirl

(if you want to be added/deleted, let me know)

#follower milestone #milestone celebration #jacaerys velaryon #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon

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iz-belljolie · 2 days ago

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VALENTINE’S DAY WITH ART PLS

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ 𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙰𝚛𝚝 🏹+˚*˙✧💘

　ﾟ･｡･･｡･

(So sorry for the drag)

tw: contains smut (near the end)

You and Art went out to Applebee's for dinner, it felt nostalgic because that's where you went on your first date lol, since it was basically Art could afford at the time.

You spent your dinner giggling and admiring each other. Then, sharing a desert. It took some convincing but, you finally pushed Art to take a few bites of the Triple Chocolate Meltdown.

You laughed when there was some chocolate smeared above his lip, leaning over to wipe it off with your thumb, holding his head still with your free hand, smiling in his face, scolding him to stop laughing so you can wipe the chocolate off.

“Stop being silly Art” you murmured.

“I can’t help it, you make me silly.” He giggled.

“Enough” you chuckled, jokingly pushing his face before sitting back in your seat and sighing.

“Okay I’m stuffed.” He murmured. “Let’s pay and go?”

“If you’re the one paying, yup!” You smiled brightly at him.

He scoffed, but a grin was on his face.

He called the waiter over and asked for the check. 5 minutes later you both were out the door, your arms locked together and fingers intertwine, your hearts full of love and happiness.

As you got into the same jeep he’s had since college, you leaned over the console and kiss his cheek.

“I can’t wait to show you your surprise.” You whispered.

You could see a smile light up his face, his teeth shining through.

Not long later you guys are in the apartment you’ve been renting for the winter, taking off all your winter gear and sighing with relief when the heat of your cozy home surrounded your bodies.

“So what’s my surprise?” Art asked, his hands on your shoulder as he nuzzled against your neck, smiling.

“Patience my dear artie.” You grinned.

“Go sit on the couch like a good boy and I’ll be back soon.” You whispered seductively before walking towards your bedroom, looking behind your shoulder at him with a smirk.

A few minutes later you came back out in brand new lingerie you bought, a lacy bralette that was a light red with embroidered flowers on it, and a matching pair of panties.

You smiled shyly as he came into your view. He was sat on the couch, chewing on his lip before he looked up at you. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened in admiration.

“Jesus fucking Christ y/n” he gasped out.

All the blood that should be in his head rushed to his cock. He felt dizzy, in a good way.

You swayed gently on your feet, still smiling sweetly at him.

He stood up and you could immediately see his erection poking through his pants, begging to be freed.

“What did i do to deserve such a fucking angel?” He mumbled, almost as if he was talking to himself.

When he was hand length apart from you, his finger ran down your arm. He then grabbed your lower arm and brought your hand up and his kissed it.

“Can we make love tonight instead of fucking…I love you so much..mm so much..” he murmured, he’s eyes tearing up.

“Of course artie, let’s go to bed.” You whispered, kissing his forehead.

You both were now in bed, making out slowly and passionately, taking your time and letting yourselves feel. Feel the touch and slides of your tongues against each other. Your hands roaming each others bodies. Feeling the burning of love and arousal inside your bodies.

Eventually his hand is inside your panties and your hand in wrapped around his cock, which you pulled out of jeans…You were too eager to undress him.

His fingers clumsily rubbed your folds to collect your wetness and bring it up to your clit before rubbing circles and massaging it to give you as much pleasure as he can.

Your hand lazily stroked his dick up and down, stopping to rub the pre cum leaking from his slit over his tip. At some point you quickly spit it your hand for more lube.

You kept kissing sloppily as you pleasured each other. Moaning, gasping, and whimpering into each other mouths.

Art came first, his body seized and his eyes squeezed shut and his cum spurted out, the pleasure hit him so hard he was gasping for air. Once all his pleasure was ringed out, you hand released his pulsing cock.

Your orgasm rushed over you moments later, causing your legs to tense and your lips to part into a long moan. When you were over sensitive you grabbed his wrist to stop him from moving his hand.

As you too calmed down from the intense pleasure you lazily and calmly kissed each other. Lovingly and sweetly. Your hands stroking each others hair.

“I wanna have sex but m’ so tired…” he mumbled against your neck, pressing a long kiss against it.

Your huffed out a small laugh. “We can make love(you said in a mockingly voice) in the morning baby..” you replied.

“Ugh sounds good to me angel” he murmured, getting comfy with you in and bed, stripping off his clothes so he was naked.

“The set you got Is really pretty, maybe you can put it back on in the morning” he mumbled, yawning at the end of his sentence.

You smiled softly as you took off the lingerie and maneuvered yourself under the covers and helped Art get under there too.

“Mhm..i love you art” you whispered.

He curled up against you and rested his head on your chest, almost purring at the feeling of your skin against his.

“I love you.” He slurred sleepily, his eyes drooping until they fully closed, his arm curled around you.

You slipped your leg over his and put your hand on his back before closing your eyes and letting sleep take over you.

But just before you fell into a much needed sleep, you heard Art murmur, “best Valentine’s Day ever..”

You smiled sleepily and pet his back. “Yeah…” you yawned and let your body relax once more.

#art donaldson #art donalson x reader #art donaldson blurb #art donaldson smut #challengers movie #challengers #valentines day #valentines day blurb #Valentine’s Day x Art Donaldson

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arcadia-smith · 3 days ago

Text

Part 1 here.

TW: idk, angst, fem!reader is a traitor, Simon Riley is pissed. Mention of blood, torture. Let me know if I've missed anything.

Part 2

Two Months Ago

The rain poured in heavy sheets, drenching everything in sight. The hum of boots on the wet ground was the only sound for miles, the usual military chatter dampened by the storm. It was an ambush—an unexpected one, but Ghost’s team was trained for this. Still, it didn’t stop the tension from building between everyone.

You next to him were different tonight. Normally, you'd crack jokes or shoot him a sly grin, but tonight, you were all business. Eyes focused, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Got a feeling about this one,” he muttered, his voice cutting through the rain.

You glanced at him, face shadowed by the brim of your helmet. “What kind of feeling?”

He didn’t answer immediately, watching surroundings instead. “The kind you don’t ignore.”

You nodded, but your eyes held something else. Something darker. “We’ll be ready.”

Your voice was quiet, almost too quiet. He wasn’t sure if it was the rain or something else in the air, but it felt like you were already bracing for something.

You set up camp that night in an abandoned building, the walls crumbling and the roof barely keeping the rain at bay. Ghost sat against the far wall, the cold of the stone seeping through his gear, but it didn’t bother him. He had other things on his mind.

His eyes kept drifting to you. You were seated across the room, the flicker of the candlelight casting shadows on your face.

“You’re quiet,” he said, breaking the silence.

You didn’t look up. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

Your eyes flickered to his, then away. You didn’t answer right away, but he could tell you were weighing something in your mind. Something you weren't ready to share.

It wasn’t like you to be so closed off.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

This time, you met his gaze. Lips curled into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine, Ghost. You worry too much.”

But Ghost wasn’t convinced.

He leaned forward, the weight of the unspoken between you settling on his shoulders. “You’re lying.”

Your eyes darkened, something flickering in the depths of them that made his stomach turn. You looked away again.

“You know,” you began slowly, “sometimes I wonder if we’re all just—” you stopped yourself, catching the words before they left your mouth.

“Just what?” he pressed, though he already had an inkling.

But you shook your head, as if you had already said too much. “Never mind.”

Ghost studied yoy for a moment. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut, deep where his instincts screamed at him to pay attention.

You stood abruptly, grabbing your gear. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

His gaze followed you, but he didn’t move. “Don’t go far.”

He waited. And waited.

And when you still hadn’t returned by the time the others began settling in, he stood and grabbed his rifle.

It was a mistake not to follow you sooner.

Back to the Present.

The memory hits him hard, and for a moment, Ghost almost forgets where he is. He’s back in the rain-soaked building, watching you disappear into the night without a second glance, trusting that you'd be back.

But you hadn’t.

And now here you are, sitting in front of him, bound to a chair, the traitor he should have known was hiding beneath the surface.

The worst part? He doesn’t know if he can still trust his instincts anymore.

He leans in close, his voice a low rasp. “I should’ve followed you that night.”

Your lips twitch into a mockery of a smile. “Maybe you wouldn’t have been able to stop me.”

He growls low, fists clenching at his sides. “Stop playing games, you don’t get to—”

But you're already shaking your head, like you know the question before he asks it.

“You never asked the right questions, Simon.”

The way you say his name—his real name—stings in a way he can’t explain.

“You were always too busy watching, waiting,” you continue, eyes cold. “But you never listened.”

Ghost’s breath catches. “What are you talking about?”

You lean forward slightly, just enough to challenge him. “I didn’t betray you because I wanted to. I did it because you left me no choice.”

Eight Months Ago

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of dust and old paper. A single laptop screen glowed in the darkness, its light reflecting in your tired eyes.

You weren't supposed to be here. Weren't supposed to be going through these files.

But something wasn’t adding up.

Your team had taken down a cartel stronghold two weeks ago—a clean mission, no civilians harmed, no loose ends. Or so they thought.

But then you saw the reports. Leaked documents. Missing people. Names that shouldn’t have been on that list.

And one name in particular had made your stomach drop.

Your brother.

He had been dead for years. Or so you had believed.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as the reality settled over you like a weight you couldn’t shake.

The cartel hadn’t killed him.

Your pulse pounded as you scrolled through classified files, mind racing to make sense of it. Ghost’s team—your team—had been fed false intel. You had executed a mission based on lies.

The organization you had dedicated your life to wasn’t what you thought it was.

And now, you had a choice.

Because if your brother was still alive—if there was even a chance—you weren't going to leave him behind.

Not like last time.

And if that meant betraying everything you'd ever known?

So be it.

#writers on tumblr #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley #cod x reader #ghost cod

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maxispixels · 3 days ago

Text

HANDPICKED

PART ELEVEN.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

2.7k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around (more) 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy ? (very)

CW/TW: Really mean guy, rude/crude/suggestive talk, murder talk, no actual physical violence happening but psychological violence (?) (Tell me if I should add something?)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight. Part nine. Part ten. Part eleven. Part twelve.

The city hummed with energy, the streets thrumming under your feet as the protest swelled like a living thing. In many ways, it reminded you of the concert. The crowd, the music, the vibrations going through every fiber of your being, syncing with your pulse.

People moved slowly, shoulder to shoulder. You’d expected to struggle to keep up, but the dragging pace exhausted you more than a sprint would. Voices were raised, slogans like a chorus. Carried along by the crowd, you felt like a swarm of bees, your ears buzzing.

Hobie moved with the same ease you had come to know him for. Once again you felt a pang of sadness, seeing him so comfortable in a world you didn't belong to. It reminded you of how much he kept slipping away from you. Out of reach, fleeting, elusive. People recognized him, clapped his shoulder, called his name. Some held two fingers in salute, others simply nodded, but almost everyone acknowledged him. He wasn’t just attending.

You followed closely, wide-eyed, lost, overwhelmed but not in a bad way. He never looked back to check if you were keeping up. He didn’t need to, it’s like he could hear your steps distinct from others, and if you were to fall he’d catch you before you’d hit the ground. Without turning his gaze.

The music cut through the air, sharp and electric. A band played on the back of a pickup truck, like some kind of guerilla gig. You doubted it was legal, but for now, policemen were few and not too threatening. It was still early.

A strange feeling of being watched settled in your heart. You turned instinctively, and there he was.

A scruffy man in a beat-up cowboy hat, leaning against the side of a building, just watching. The second your eyes met, he tipped his chin at you. Not a greeting, not a threat, just acknowledgement, before vanishing in the crowd like he had never been there at all.

You swallowed hard, shaking it off. Hobie hadn’t noticed.

Your attention came back to the band playing on a truck. You wanted to get closer, but you didn’t want to get separated from Hobie, so, sheepishly, like a kid with their mother, you pulled at his sleeves and asked to go see them.

He cracked a laugh, not mocking, but still amused with that behavior. He laced his fingers with yours and carefully made his way through the crowd. People parted on instinct, and you felt like he was parting the sea for a moment. You peeked from behind, watching the show. You couldn’t really understand the lyrics, the singer was barely enunciating her words and her voice was so rough it sounded like she had been screaming all day straight. Maybe she had. Eventually, you both made your way somewhere else, until something else grabbed your attention.

Your eyes met the one of the person behind the mask, as he checked his surroundings before quickly lettering something on a closed storefront. His stature was quite small, probably someone young.

You heard Hobie click his tongue behind you, and like on cue, a policeman showed up, screaming on the boy about vandalism, agitating his baton. Hobie let go of your hand, and you felt him tense, but before he could move, the boy had ran away, too fast and agile for the cop to even get close to him, climbing and disappearing in an alleyway. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and Hobie put his hand on the middle of your back.

“Let’s go,” he just said, leading you away and back in the crowd.

As the afternoon stretched on, the protest bled into the streets, people spitting off into smaller groups, heading toward familiar places, planning the next actions, art performances or gigs.

Hobie didn’t hesitate when someone called his name, a tall girl with sharp eyes and a denim jacket waving him over toward a dimly lit doorway, half-hidden in an alley. He just nodded at you, wordless, before slipping inside. You didn’t hesitate either before following.

The squat was very different from the open air protest. It felt darker, more suffocating. The walls were covered in graffiti and peeling flyers, and furniture were scattered, half broken and shoved into corners.

The smell of beer, paint and something smokey and herbal went straight to your head, almost making you dizzy. In one corner, a group of people were talking, bent over newspaper articles, in another, people were sitting on the floor painting revanchist signs.

And Hobie belonged there, too. A girl with short curls and dark lipstick, you recognized her as Riri, part of his band, was already pulling him in a heated conversation, hands gesturing vividly.

"—can’t just sit back while fascists crawl out their holes—"

"‘course not, but we gotta be smart, not just loud—"

The words came fast, sharp, overlapping. This wasn’t just a debate, it was planning, strategy. The kind of conversation that made things happen.

You stood there, uncertain, out of place. You didn’t really have anything to add of value there. You watched Hobie. He was leaning forward, one arm propped on his knee, speaking low and fast. People listened when he talked.

You drifted away from the group, toward the corner where a few people sat painting. You plopped down on an old, worn couch and let your form rest over the armrest, your eyes tracing the bold letters. It was relaxing seeing people work like that, from away, despite all the rage and resistance that went into coming up with those slogans.

Then, you felt the cushion shift under you, as someone sat next to you. You turned your head, only to be face to face with the man with the cowboy hat. Up close, he looked even rougher, stubble shadowing his jaw, the lines on his face too deep for his age. His hands, resting against his knees, were bruised, knuckles raw, and a cigarette was balanced over his fingers.

"Not too loud for you?" His voice was rugged, but soft, and for a second it was enough to calm your growing nerves.

"It’s fine." You just said politely, not looking to make small talk. He didn’t seem to want to leave you alone, though.

"You sure?" He tilted his head slightly. "You want some water? Ya look tired."

"Yeah, no thank you. I’m fine." You uttered a small smile, and it made him pause, like he was going to just leave you alone after all.

He hummed, tapping his cigarette against his knee, flicking the ash onto the floor.

"Bit of a wallflower, ain’t ya?" He paused. "You new here, I s’pose?"

"Guess so." You were barely giving him one word answer, he did make you a little uneasy. Like he was playing a game, and you refused to take part. He didn’t need you to, though.

He just grinned. "Good. Fresh blood’s always good for the cause." He stretched, rolling his shoulders like he had all the time in the world. "Although," he added, glancing at you sideways, "you don’t really seem the type."

"Type for what?"

"For this." He gestured loosely around the room, then took a slow drag of his cigarette. "I bet," he murmured, "you don’t even know what you’re getting into."

You were sure he was trying to rail you up. Maybe test you? You side eyed him. "I know exactly why I'm here," you said, forcing your voice even.

The man raised a brow, waiting, smirking. "Yeah? And what’s that?"

You swallowed. Your eyes looked for Hobie, the urge to just leave the man talking to the wall itching at you. "Change." You gave something generic, hoping he’d just leave you alone, but the word came out too quick, too rehearsed. His smirk widened, something flickering beneath it, amusement, maybe, or something worse.

"Right," he murmured. "S’nothing to do with a tall, pretty boy with a voice like fuckin’ sandpaper."

You felt the back of your neck burn. You immediately knew.

"That's not—"

"Everybody can see it." He cut you, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "You follow him around like a dog on a leash."

His insults weren’t even backhanded anymore. You hitched at his rudeness.

He grinned. "Proper lost little thing."

You glared at him. "I'm not—"

"C’mon, don’t gimme that look." His grin widened, lazy and sharp. He wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise. "You tellin’ me he ain’t got you weak in the knees?"

Your throat went tight. You had no time to speak back or process what he was implying before he was at it again.

"No shame in it, really." He tapped his boot against the floor, mock sympathy in his voice. "Bloke’s built like temptation. Hell, I’d be jealous if I thought I had a chance."

Every nerve in your body itched with the urge to hit him, to wipe that smug fucking look off his face.

“Dunno. Just got that feel, yeah? The kinda bloke that knows how to make a person forget their own name.”

You were never one for violence, but he was riling you up. You hated how he talked about Hobie, not out of jealousy, just how disgusting it was to talk about anyone like that, like a piece of meat. The way he tried to put those words into your mouth, it repulsed you.

He exhaled through his nose, watching you carefully.

"Bet he’s real nice about it," he mused, "Real patient, yeah? Slow hands. Soft words. Or maybe—"

He tilted his head slightly, looking you over.

"—Maybe the opposite," he murmured, like it was a playful secret between the both of you, "bet that’s exactly your thing, huh?"

Something inside you snapped. Your nails dug into your palms. You didn’t feel like giving him a reaction for his stupid innuendos, but this was way past the line.

"Shut the fuck up," you spat. "What is wrong with you?" Your voice didn’t come out as assertive as you hoped it would, but the venom was real.

He just chuckled. "Don’t be mad," he murmured. "Figured you’d know best. You’re the one shaggin’ him.”

“I’m not—” you tried to defend, but it only made his smirk grow sharper.

“You aren’t?”

You recoiled. Your stomach turned violently. He gave a toothy grin, like he was relishing this, your discomfort, the shame bubbling in your stomach. Not that you had any reason to be ashamed, if anything, he should be for having the audacity to spit out abhorrent garbage.

"But I bet that’s the edge that does it for you, huh?" he continued, voice slow, taunting. "The danger? Like when he fights, yeah? Like when he gets his hands on someone and—"

You felt your eyes slowly widen as you glared at him, your blood boiling over, your fingers twitching with the need to do something. He saw it, and he grinned, his voice dipping lower. You could barely hear him, and he was already making sure you were the only one able to.

"Ya ever wonder what those hands have done before they were holdin’ yours, sweetheart?"

His voice was almost thoughtful, as if the words weren’t meant to sleep inside your bones and break them from the marrow out, like mold spreading from your spine to your limbs. He tapped his cigarette, watching you from the corner of his eye, waiting to see if you’d take the bait.

You didn’t. Didn’t bite, didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

"The blue laces mean somethin’, y’know that?"

His tone shifted, not just teasing anymore. Calculated. He had to be spewing nonsense, you wanted to laugh at him for mentioning his laces. He could’ve stolen them from the Queen for all you cared.

He sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Fuckin’ shame, really. Thought you’d know."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, rolling his shoulders like he had all the time in the world. Then, he exhaled, long and slow, almost like he was thinking real hard about something. You didn’t try to speak, you knew words wouldn’t come out right, and a small part of you wanted to see where he was going.

"Not sayin’ it’s a bad thing, though," he mused. Then, lower, softer, slow enough to make your stomach churn. "Some people deserve to go."

Your pulse stuttered. You swore the air grew thicker, he wasn’t just trying to mess with you anymore, this felt too close to reality. His words landed too sharp, too deliberate, too fucking heavy. His mouth twitched, pleased, like he had been waiting for this.

"Mmh," he sighed, “Ya ever ask him about it?"

You looked away from him, barely processing his words. He was messing with you bad. You should’ve left. You should’ve left before, and you should’ve left right that moment, but you were stuck to the cushion, like your clothes had been sewn into it. Maybe it was the smell of the paint, of gasoline, of a badly ventilated space that made you dizzy, feeling like gravity was too strong.

The man huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah. ’Course you didn’t."

Then he turned to you fully, dragging his eyes over your face, his smirk fading into something unreadable.

"Your boy’s a fuckin’ hero, y’know." His voice dragged, his eyes squinting just slightly, like he was visualizing it. It didn’t land right, because you couldn’t tell if he was mocking or not.

Then, slow, deliberate, voice dripping with something thick and sticky. "Killed a cop and everything."

He didn’t laugh or mocked, he just looked at you, looked at your face ever so slowly falling, as if you wore your feelings out for him to dissect and relish in.

And when it hit, when he saw the moment you understood, his mouth twitched. Not smug. Not cruel. Just pitying, like he had to tell you, like he was putting down a wounded animal.

"Fuckin’ hell," he muttered, shaking his head. "You really didn’t know."

This was different. He had spent the whole time dragging you through the filth, feeding you taunts and cruelty, but this wasn’t that. This wasn’t mocking, this was real.

You tried to swallow, tried to form words, but there was nothing. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He sucked at his teeth, glancing at the dying embers of his cigarette. "It’s a good thing, really," he murmured, tapping his foot against the floor.

Cold sweat ran down your spine, he just wouldn’t shut his mouth, it was like he didn’t let you breathe, not for one moment. You barely digested his words that he came and assaulted you with new ones. It felt like being strangled.

"What?" He hummed. "Not many people are willing to act like he does,” a pause. “Some people just deserve to go,” he repeated, as if to drill it in your brain.

You didn’t want to believe him, nothing about him was trustworthy, yet you couldn’t help it. This felt true, like something that was always lurking in Hobie’s shadow, in his silences, in his absences. He didn’t look at you, just stared ahead like he was saying something normal.

"And some people just have to get it done."

Your throat felt tight, like there was something lodged in it. He exhaled, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, turning his head slightly to look at you.

"He’s real," he said simply. "That’s not something anyone can take from him." He flicked his cigarette to the floor, crushing it under his boot. "Nothing he does is for show."

You wanted to tell him to shut up again, to leave you alone, but you couldn’t.

He stretched, rolling his shoulders, looking satisfied, not smug, not cruel. He stood, done with this conversation now.

"Go on, then," he muttered, voice quieter now, almost distant. "Look him in the eye. See if he looks guilty." He gave you a little pat on the shoulder, like he would a kid before a sports match, and it made you twitch and recoil in disgust.

And then he was gone, like he had never been there at all.

Part twelve.

*anxiously click publish and crawl back*

@hoe-bie

#hobie brown #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #x reader #spiderpunk #handpicked #atsv fanfic #atsv fanfiction

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coleeeitgysn1infi · 12 hours ago

Text

GIYUU X SANEMI SHIP CHARTS❕

(Tw: horrible grammar & spelling, teeny tiny bit of nsfw, not that understandable, some bad takes. And I'm sorry!)

I don't like this opinion that the fandom has and i think they're misinterpreting the character, in my opinion this should be interpreted like this.

First image:

1. Big/little spoon:

• Giyuu is the big spoon while Sanemi the little spoon. Giyuu is more likely to big spoon because of his truma and what he hates. Not even talking about smut or anything, this is all In general. Giyuu would big spoon even when they are sleeping or cuddling together. Why? A sign of protection. He rather protect then be protected, because people died protected him, his sister and his best friend, Tsutako and Sabito died protecting and that made Giyuu hate having to be protected, now he protectes his loved ones because he can't afford to lose someone else while protecting him, he hates being useless as well, so in order not to be protected, protected and not be useless, he will big spoon in the relationship. In Giyuu's head, anything can happen, when they sleep at night, Giyuu would big spoon, because what if an intruder broke in? What it they try to kill them? Possible or not, Giyuu would big spoon to be the closer target, so Sanemi doesn't die in his presence. Dying is one of Giyuu's top "idgf" list, so if he doesn't care about dying to protect Sanemi.

• About Sanemi, he spent his whole life protecting, him small spooning is the better thing for him. He may hate being vulnerable and showing emotions, but that's what he needs, him taking a break from everything is what he needs, and Giyuu can provide that for him, he can help him relax and not be always on alarm and acutely feel comfortable enough to express his feelings, Giyuu is litterly the perfect person for that. All the people Sanemi protected died, no matter how hard he tried, His mother, his siblings, Genya and Masachika died because he couldn't protect them. Now, if he had to protect Giyuu, they would always be worried, always be alarmed, and nothing would have changed from their trauma and the cycle would be repeateded all over again, both of them would always be on edge and will acutely be really unhealthy and toxic for them. Giyuu big spooning and Sanemi little spooning is what's for the best, both would be at ease, both would trust each other, both would be happy, calm and more relaxed after so long.

2. Clothes sharing:

• They both share clothes if they need to, they are the same size. 3 cm is not 3 inches people, and so if Giyuu is 3 cm shorter? How can that mean that Giyuu is less of a man as the rest?

3. Extrovert & introvert:

• Sanemi isn't that extroverted either, if anything, his Omniverted. What's Omniverted. What is an omnivert person?

• Omnivert. Definition. A person who exhibits qualities of both introversion and extroversion, and can flip into either depending on their mood, context, and goals. A person who can feel intensely introverted or extroverted in different situations, with preferences changing frequently and drastically.

• With this say, Sanemi is either introverted or extroverted depending how he feels, what situation he is in. We can say Sanemi is not that extroverted, because he doesn't seem that pleased when his around a lot of people and doesn't even talk much about anything but his duty. Sanemi is somewhere in the middle of that.

• For Giyuu, there are 4 types of introvert, his a thinking type introvert. He doesn't have the social type, not the anxious type, not the restrained type. As kid, he might have had with the social or anxious type, but as a grown adult his different.

4. Confession:

• Giyuu I the type of guy who will confess the second he gets the right chance, while Sanemi waits to be confessed. Giyuu is canonly a straight forward guy, if he has the guts to insult Sanemi out of no where, he has the guts to confess to him out of no where.

• While Sanemi, is a person who probably fears the possibly of being rejected, so he will just sit somewhere and pray that the person he likes will confess to him, cos there is no way Sanemi will take the chance of being rejected and humiliated. Sanemi probably will take a longer time to realize if he likes someone, while Giyuu would notice most likely immediately when he likes someone. "Giyuu fell first & Sanemi fell harder." that's my quote, meaning, Giyuu is the one who fell in love first with Sanemi, while Sanemi fell in love after a lot of emotional challenges and doubt.

5. Bugs...:

• Really? Screaming about bugs? Giyuu is the one killing it with a shoe, Sanemi let's it outside and will probably blind Giyuu when he sees him to try and kill the poor thing- (canon, I was the bug.)

6. Driving skills:

• In my opinion, Giyuu is a more carful driver then Sanemi, but Sanemi has more experience on driving. Probably because in modern au, Giyuu would be driven around by Sakonji, Tsutako and Sabito or would have taken the bus while Sanemi learned how to drive at a young age and drive his siblings around a lot.

7. Cooking skills:

• Yeah th cooking one is right. To be fair, I meet some people who thought Sanemi can't cook and Giyuu can- so I highlighted this.

8. Protectiveness:

• Both are overprotective, both in different ways. Sanemi is more of mama bear protective because he had to take care of his 6 younger siblings and was like a second mother to them. Sanemi's character is a lot like a "older sister" type, because of his background and story, personality as well.

Here is a post that relates to this and the first one.

9. Dating experience:

• Both don't have relationship experience. Especially Sanemi since in the light novel is said that Sanemi also doesn't care about romance and doesn't care about girls founding over him if he become a hashira when Masachika teased him. It's canon that he doesn't understand romance either, not being in able to tell that your own best friend likes someone while litterly Muichiro himself could tell while Sanemi couldn't. It's funny.

• About Giyuu's romance, his a natural, so he probably would know much more about relationships then Sanemi. Comme on, having an idea of how to befriend Sanemi by making him something he loves and also having flowers on his imagination, we can agree Giyuu is at least more romantic then Sanemi, since he can also understand when he is in love or not.

10. Awkwardness level:

• Both are awkward in different ways, Giyuu awkward with words, Sanemi just hating the feeling of awkwardness since people scold him a lot about his behavior.

11. Jealous level:

• Giyuu is canonly the jealous type. When he got jealous that Tanjiro started using different breathing styles, the way he envies the other hashiras, Sanemi and Tengen for example, when he said to Sanemi himself how he envies his "simple mind". (that part was hilarious, you can not disagree).

• Sanemi isn't really the jealous type, he just hates unfairness. Giyuu is mostly likely to be jealous when Someone that shows interested in Sanemi, then Sanemi being jealous of someone that shows interested in Giyuu. Is that Giyuu doesn't trust Sanemi, he doesn't like it when someone other then him is interested in him. Sanemi trusts Giyuu in this too, so he doesn't care at all and has more important things to deal with.

12. Sexuality:

• About their sexuality, my head canon is that Giyuu is demisexual, why? Because I can see Giyuu loving someone about their personality not their physical looks. It's not like Pansexual where they love everyone, Giyuu doesn't not love everyone, he has to know more about you, to love you. For example if Sanemi became a woman, Giyuu wouldn't care at all, and nothing about his preferences or feelings would change, he will love Sanemi the same, not more or less. I don't like the HC people make of Giyuu that his Gay, it doesn't match at at tbh, and doesn't fit him at all, his demisexual and you really don't have much proof that his not. Because Giyuu wasn't all over Sanemi just because he was a man, if Sanemi was a women from the beginning, Giyuu would still want to befriend Sanemi, and if they where canon, Giyuu would still love Sanemi, man or not.

• I think Sanemi is bisexual with preference for women in my opinion. Why? Because women where the one people that where gently with him, unlike man like his father which he had a lot of them who reminded Sanemi of his father, even Tengen is just as Intimating like Sanemi 's father. Plus, Sanemi looked up to women, like his mother, and Kanae who touch reminded him of his mother (light novel), but the man who where actually just as gentle with him where Masachika and Master. Giyuu is on his list as well, AT THE END of the manga. If they where canon, Giyuu would be patient with Sanemi, wouldn't force him on anything and acutely would build a comfortable and safe space for Sanemi. Which makes our boy bisexuals over all.

Second image:

1. How they met:

• "When Giyuu became a hashira" ⁉️ yeah, this person doesn't know much. "When Sanemi became a hashira" is the correct quote idk why they didn't know that.

2. The relationship in a sentence:

• Giyuu falls in love first not "too easy", and if anyone of them was crazy about the other, is Giyuu crazy about Sanemi!! Idk why people always confuse this, Giyuu is the one who what's to befriend Sanemi, Giyuu is the one who wants to make him his favorite food, and Giyuu is the one who likes him! Romantically or platonically, doesn't matter.

3. Talkitive & Listener:

• Their both at the listerner category in my opinion, just Sanemi little more in the middle. You can't see Sanemi starting a convo about something, people come to talk to him, he doesn't go to talk to people.

• But Giyuu, he is the type of person who starts conversations, when he finds something you like, he will mostly talk about it.

5. Superior/equal/inferior:

• Sanemi views both of them as equal, but Giyuu is more complicated.

• Giyuu even though he thinks he isn't worthy of a hashira, he doesn't think his beneath anyone's shoes, he still says what he wants, does what he wants and doesn't carenif your more superior then him or not.

6. Flustered/chill

• Sanemi is the flustered one in the relationship, he gets easily embarrassed and awkward, and he tries his hardest not to be in these sections.

• While Giyuu is chill with anything, he couldn't care less in reality.

7. Life of the party - What is joy:

• Both are in "what is joy" group.

• Sanemi himself doesn't see the point in being happy when there are demons going around killing innocent lives. It's said in the light novel, the only time his joyful is when his training with Giyuu in the Hashira Training Arc, he is seen smiling when fighting with Giyuu, but when his training with Obanai or Muichiro, his not.

• Giyuu himself doesn't see the point either, but he doesn't have as big of a hatred in demons like Sanemi does. His stuck in the past and he can't move on from it. The only time we see him smile is either when his eating his favorite meal - miso soup with salmon and daikon - or when his thinking about Sanemi!! Both of them here are the same in this scenario, both find lots of joy in their favorite food and when they interact! Sanemi may hate Giyuu's guts at the beginning but we see them smile at each other so many times as time passes by.

8. Forgets errands and chores/does all the errands:

• Sanemi does all the errands/chores while Giyuu forgets. Sanemi grew up cleaning up after his siblings and father, he also likely cooked for his siblings when their mother was away at work.

• Giyuu was always cleaned after, his sister most likely did everything around the house and Sakonji as well. We also see Giyuu's estate has no furniture, so he probably doesn't clean at all so he doesn't bother to get anything but a bed to sleep on. And he either eats out or the Kakushi do everything else for him.

9. Changes:

• Sanemi most likely makes changes happen and Giyuu keeps things simple.

10. Trust:

• Giyuu has bigger trust then Sanemi, he also is a person that has no secrets so he trusts Sanemi the same.

• Sanemi is more difficult, he doesn't trust people easily and it took a while for him to trust Giyuu, even though now he trusts him, Sanemi still doesn't tell him all his secrets, like Giyuu does with him.

11. Emotional openness:

• Even tho neither of them are emotionally open, Giyuu is the one who's more emotionally open that Sanemi, because like I said 100 times, Sanemi hates showing his vulnerable emotions. Giyuu is the one who his more open about his feelings as well, his more open emotionally too.

12. Affection:

Giyuu is wayy more affectionate than Sanemi is. But both have almost the same way of showing it.

Giyuu's love language: (ranked)

- buying gifts

- acts of service

- physical touch

- Quality time

- words of affirmation

Sanemi's love language:

- acts of service

- Quality time

- secretly likes physical touch

- gift giving

- words of affirmation

these are the 5 type of love language and how I rank them for Giyuu and Sanemi

13. Emotional needs:

• Sanemi is 20% Giyuu 35-40%

14. Sharing generosity:

• Sanemi is really careful on what he shares, and without thinking about it, he won't share anything.

• For Giyuu, if he has to share something he doesn't really care about, he doesn't have a problem with it, other wise, he doesn't like sharing stuff that he cares about and are meant for him.

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Note: I resaid some stuff I had already posted on my other blogs, but I added them here as well because not everyone read those posts. I will be adding them here and also some other posts that I think really explain Giyuu and Sanemi's dynamic. (These are all I had the patients to find.)

mine: 1 2 3

@demonslayerunhinged: this separate post of them 1 and this blog where they gathered some of their Gysn posts 2. 3 4 5

@painyrainy: 1

@yoiiyoii: 1

@pompomchihuahua: 1

@roseameilatempest: 1 2 3

Pls read their works, they are amazing!

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My explanations might have been confusing but it make my explanations clear I made my own Giyuu x Sanemi ship chart!

This is my GiyuSane chart IN MY OPINION!😭

(im gonna post these Sepretly)

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Note 2: This is all I could gather so far 😭😭😭 Another note, ik my takes are confusing and my bad grammar can make it even more confusing. Even I myself am confused, but this is definitely one of my longest post so I was a little impatient when writing everything. If you don't agree with MY TAKES, then idk girly, you do you, if you want to add anything, pls do, I'd appreciate it!!

#kny #demon slayer #giyuu tomioka #sanemi shinazugawa #giyusane #giyuusane #sanegiyuu #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu x sanemi #giyuu and Sanemi #gysn #sngy #ship chart #giyusane ship chart #hot takes #unpopular opinion

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