#tw:knifeplay

[dadbodosamu]

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Rengoku Kyoujuro x afab!Reader

WARNINGS: blood, bruises, scars, stitches, lil knifeplay, breeding, snakes, pet names (love), overstimulation, a smidge of dumbification, biting, cockwarming, tummy bulging, dacryphilia

4.9k words. not betaed and vaguely edited

childhood friends to lovers, demon slayer reader, possessive kyou and reader, pining kyou and reader

read more home. universe here!!

“You should be more careful, Rengoku-san,” you said as you carefully stitched up a cut on his stomach.

“I can’t worry about myself when others are in danger,” Rengoku said. He hissed as you rubbed antiseptic on the fresh stitches. “They’re more important than I am.”

“You’re important, too, Rengoku-san,” you said. You wrapped a bandage around his stomach before moving to the cut on his thigh.

You’d been at the Butterfly Estate for a few years now. While you were a demon slayer, you much preferred patching people up to killing demons. You’d reached Kinoe ranking and were technically Hashira standard, but you’d decided against it. You still took missions every once in a while, but they were few and far between. It was mostly when the Hashira were busy and it was a higher ranking demon when you were called out.

“Well, it doesn’t matter much if I’m injured since I always have you to patch me up,” Rengoku said, smiling at you.

“And what if I get injured on a mission, Rengoku-san, and I’m not able to patch you up?” You asked.

“I’d wait for you to get better.”

You and Rengoku had joined the Corps at the same time, going into Final Selection together. You’d been joined at the hip since childhood, though, after growing up together since your mother had been the Sound Hashira at the same time Rengoku’s father had been the Flame Hashira.

“And I wish you wouldn’t call me Rengoku-san,” Rengoku added. He nudged you with his elbow. “There was a time you called me Kyou-chan.”

Your cheeks heated up. “That was a long time ago, Rengoku-san. You’re a Hashira now, you rank higher than me. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

“I rank higher than you in title alone, we both know you’ve slayed as many demons as I have, if not more,” Rengoku said. “You’d be a Hashira, too, if you weren’t so stubborn.”

“Then there would be two snake-related Hashira and I don't think Iguro-san would like that,” you said. “He would probably have Kaburamaru swallow me whole.”

“And I would cut her stomach open and free you,” Rengoku said. “There could be a Serpent Hashira and a Python Hashira. Where are Sakura and Midori, by the way? I haven’t seen them since I got here.”

You smiled at the mention of your pets. “Sakura is very agitated right now. She’s shedding and it’s been difficult. Midori is probably sleeping or laying around, he just ate this morning.”

Rengoku hummed.

“I believe you’re all done, Rengoku-san,” you said, stepping back to check over your handy work. “You’ll have to stay here for a few days, though, so I can keep an eye on your stomach injury. And you’ll have to come back in two weeks so I can remove your stitches.”

“Can I go see your snakes, now? I miss them,” Rengoku said.

“Fine. But if Sakura gets snippy, it’s your fault,” you said.

Rengoku followed you back to your room, where your snakes were currently both basking in the sunlight. Midori looked up as you entered, but Sakura made no acknowledgement of either of you.

“Hello, Midori,” Rengoku greeted, stroking the green snake’s head with one finger. Midori let out a pleased hiss. “And Sakura. Your new scales are very pretty.”

Sakura bared her fangs at Rengoku, but then laid her head down and allowed him to stroke her.

“I see you finally finished shedding,” you said, picking Sakura up. She slithered up your arm until she curled around your neck, resting her head on your shoulder.

Rengoku picked Midori up, letting him curl himself around his arm.

“I don’t understand how you and Obanai walk around with snakes on you all the time,” Rengoku said.

“Of course you wouldn’t, Flame Breather,” you teased. “It’s a snake breather thing.”

“Imagine if Kocho walked around covered in bugs,” Rengoku said. He shivered at the thought.

“Well, you take fire wherever you go, Rengoku-san,” you said. You reached out, playfully tugging a lock of flame coloured hair. “Muichiro always has his head in the clouds, Kanroji-san wears her heart on her sleeve, Uzui is the second loudest Hashira, Himejima-san is a stone, Shinazugawa is always running his mouth, and Tomioka-san has those blue eyes of his.”

“You didn’t call Muichiro Tokito-san,” Rengoku pointed out. “And you didn’t use honorifics for Uzui and Shinazugawa. Why do you insist on being so formal with me?”

“Muichiro is fourteen,” you snorted. “Hashira or not, I’m not calling a child Tokito-san. And I have to have at least a little respect for someone to be so formal. Uzui and Shinazugawa are lucky I don’t call them what I really think of them.”

“So you respect me?” Rengoku asked.

“Of course I do, Rengoku-san,” you said. “You’re strong, and not just physically. It takes a certain type of person to deal with your father the way you do. Most people would’ve cast him out of the family by now. At the very least, they wouldn’t be as nice to him as you and Senjuro are. If I had slightly better morals, or worse, depending on how you look at it, I’d steal Senjuro away in the night and let Shinjuro waste away.”

“I’m the eldest son. It’s my duty to care for my father and Senjuro,” Rengoku said. “Even if that means being respectful when it’s not deserved.”

“Senjuro deserves better than a drunkard father and an absentee brother. You love him, I know, but he’s stuck caring for someone who wouldn’t so much as put out the flames if Senjuro was on fire if it meant spilling his drink,” you said.

“I do the best I can for Senjuro,” Rengoku defended. You could tell he was agitated by the way his arms flexed. “I visit as often as I can afford. I’m a Hashira, I don’t have free time coming out of my ass.”

He was definitely pissed off. Rengoku rarely ever swore, he thought it was disrespectful. Even as rowdy teenagers, he’d never let so much as a simple ‘hell’ slip past his lips.

“I know you do the best you can, Rengoku-san,” you said, treading lightly. “Senjuro is thirteen years old, though. He should be studying, not caring after your father like a housewife.”

Rengoku’s jaw tensed and his nostrils flared. You could tell he knew you were right.

“I do my best,” Rengoku reiterated. “That’s all I can do.”

“Rengoku-san, I’m not trying to be rude,” you said, laying a hand on his shoulder. Midori nudged your hand. “I think you’re strong, respectful, and smart. I know you do your best, I do. I know you, probably better than I know myself at this point. I know if you saw any better option, you’d take it.”

“Please stop calling me Rengoku-san,” he said. “I’m tired of hearing it from you.”

“Rengoku-san, I’m also doing the best I can,” you said. Sakura hissed in your ear and you unraveled her from your neck and placed her back in the sun. Rengoku let Midori slither down next to her.

Rengoku pushed you roughly against the wall. You held your breath as his arms caged you in. If it came down to a fight, you’d both be in bad shape by the end of it and you weren’t entirely sure who would be victorious. On one hand, Rengoku was much too respectful to really fight you, and on the other, you’d be too hesitant to really fight your childhood best friend.

“Rengoku-san, please—“

“Stop calling me that,” he hissed. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek. The realisation that he wasn’t trying to fight you for your words against his father hit you like a train.

“Ren—“ Rengoku gave you a look.

“Kyoujuro. I’ve always been Kyoujuro to you. Since we were children,” he said. His thumb caressed your cheekbone. “I don’t want to be Rengoku-san to you. Anyone else but you.”

“Kyoujuro,” you breathed. He smiled at you, leaning down and resting his forehead against yours.

“I haven’t heard that in so long,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting to hear it since I became a Hashira all those years ago.”

He kissed you then. The kiss was so unlike the Flame Hashira, so soft and almost understated, that it shocked you.

“I’ve wanted to do that since we were ten,” Kyoujuro breathed. He was still so close to you that you could feel his breath on your lips.

“Why haven’t you?” You asked. Your voice was breathless, like he’d taken the very air that filled your lungs with a simple kiss.

“We’re demon slayers,” he said. “We’re not known for our long lifespans. Hashira even less so. I didn’t want you to be in pain when I…“

He didn’t finish his sentence, he didn’t have to. You were both very aware of the average age for Hashira. You’d be lucky to have another five years with him, if that.

Suddenly though, it didn’t matter. If Kyoujuro had five years or five hours or five decades, you wanted to spend it with him.

“You thought if I wasn’t yours that I wouldn’t be hurt when you died?” You asked. You brushed a fiery lock behind his ear. “You’re not as smart as I thought you were, Kyoujuro.”

“You were always the academic between us,” he said, smiling softly.

“And you were always the one who made the first move,” you said, smiling. “I guess not much has changed.”

“No, I guess it hasn’t,” he agreed.

He kissed you again. This one was much more like the Flame Hashira. His tongue was hot in your mouth and his lips melted against yours. When he finally pulled back, you found yourself leaning after him, unwilling to lose the taste of him. He tasted like Kyoujuro, was the best you could describe it. Like home and childhood. Tobacco and something almost spicy, like mint. There was also the faint herbal taste of the medicinal tea you’d forced him to drink earlier.

“Don’t stay here.”

“What?” You asked.

“Don’t stay here,” Kyoujuro repeated. “I want you to come with me.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. Anywhere,” Kyoujuro said. “The Flame Estate, headquarters, Wisteria Houses, home. I want you to come with me wherever I go.”

“I’m needed here,” you said, reluctantly.

“Kocho and Tsuyuri can more than handle the Butterfly Estate without you,” he said. “You’re home to me, though. No matter where I go, you’re always the place I call home.”

“Kyoujuro,” you murmured, cupping his face. He leaned into your touch, reaching up to lay his hand on top of yours.

“We can go anywhere,” he said. “Anywhere in the whole world, and I’ll follow you.”

“You’re a Hashira,” you said, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. “And I’m a healer. There are demons to slay and people to fix.”

“I’d throw down my sword right now if you asked,” he said. “I’d never look at it again, never slay another demon, never even think about any of it again if you asked me.”

“You love being a demon slayer and a Hashira,” you said. “I'd never ask you to give it up. You’d hate me if I did.”

“I could never hate you,” he said.

“And I could never ask you to leave it all behind.”

“Then come with me. I’d sooner become a demon than leave you behind again,” he said. “Every time I walk out of those gates outside, I’m leaving my soul here, with you.”

“Every time you leave, you take mine,” you said. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Kyoujuro. I followed you through the Corps and I’d follow you to the farthest star and back if it made you happy.”

“Then you’ll come with me when I leave?”

“I’ll never leave your side again, Kyoujuro,” you said. “You’ll get sick of me.”

“I could live a hundred lifetimes with you by my side and when I finally reached Nirvana, I’d still want you at my side,” Kyoujuro said. “I’d never get sick of you.”

“Kyoujuro?”

“Yes?”

“I want you to kiss me again,” you said, grabbing his haori. You tugged him towards you until you slipped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until your chests were pressed against each other.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he breathed, leaning down. His lips molded against yours, tongue tracing your bottom lip before forcing its way past your teeth. You moaned into his mouth and pulled back.

“And then I want you to lay me down on my futon and show me how much you really love me,” you added. His cheeks flushed red.

“Who’s making the first move now?” He teased. His hands ran down your sides, pulling your uniform top untucked and sliding his hands under it until they rested on your waist.

His hands were warm and strong, but he was holding you so gently it was driving you crazy. His lips were trailing down your neck, sucking and biting with every kiss.

“Kyoujuro?” You asked.

He hummed in response, refusing to leave your skin for one second.

“I want you to really hold me,” you said. You moaned as he sucked on a spot under your ear, right on the edge of your jawline.

His hands tightened on your sides, strong fingers digging into soft flesh.

“Anything you want,” he mumbled into your skin. He pulled you off the wall, lips never leaving your neck as he forced you across the room. When he finally pulled back, his haori fell to the floor below him, his uniform top and undershirt following soon after. You quickly removed your own top before freeing your breasts from your restrictive tank top underneath. You both stood silently, taking the other in. His eyes were so soft as he looked at you. He seemed to be committing every detail of you to memory. You did the same.

The slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the sharp edges of his jawline, the angle of his flame-like eyes, his heart shaped face.

Your eyes moved lower, not satisfied with simply remembering his face. You traced the veins and tendons of his neck, leading down to his broad shoulders. They were thicker, more muscular than the last time you’d seen him shirtless for something other than treating his wounds. It had been years ago, back when he was just a scrawny kid, before he’d become a demon slayer. There were scars crisscrossed along his skin, a given in your line of work. A particularly fresh scar had you remembering when you’d stitched it up a few months ago. You noted the other scars, mostly healed by your own handy work, before your eyes drifted down to his chest.

This, too, was thicker than you remembered, and much more damaged. The dark scar going from the base of his neck all the way down to his sternum, you remembered as being the reason he always wore his uniform at regulation and not open like he had when he was a cocky teenager. You’d been the one to patch him up then, too, even though you were still just a demon slayer when it had happened. You vaguely remembered a demon who wielded a large, curved blade, as being the perpetrator. If you remembered correctly, it had been one of the last missions you’d ever gone on with Kyoujuro. One of your last missions all together before you decided to focus on healing.

Kyoujuro was covered in scars all the way down to the hem of his hakama pants, although you knew he had more underneath them. Most of them, like most of the ones on his upper body, were small and faint, just tiny slivers of skin a shade or two paler than the rest of his skin. There was one, though, along the length of the back of his left calf, that was deeper than most and still a light shade of red, that he’d gotten back during Final Selection when you were just kids.

Kyoujuro must’ve decided he’d remembered enough of your partially dressed body, because a moment later, his hands were combing up through the back of your hair, pulling you into a heated kiss.

“Kyou,” you moaned, hands pressed against the taut muscles of his stomach. He was so warm, was always so warm, and you couldn’t get enough of it. You wanted to bask in his warmth like a snake under the sun.

“I know, I know,” he murmured. His lips never left yours as he carefully lowered you onto the futon.

“Want you,” you said. “Need you.”

“Just wait another second, love,” he said, pulling back to sit on his feet between your legs. “I love you so much. I’ve loved you for so long. Let me savour you for a moment.”

You couldn’t speak as he moved. He’d removed your knee high socks and was now kneeling between your feet, holding one of your legs up and resting your ankle on his shoulder. You’d never been more thankful for choosing to wear a skirt instead of the standard hakama pants.

He placed a kiss on your ankle. One of his hands was holding your foot in place while the other slid up your calf until it was resting on your thigh, just above the bend of your knee.

He kissed all the way up the inside of your calf, finishing at your knee before repeating the motions with your other leg. Then your knees were bent over his shoulders as he kissed and sucked and bit the inside of your thighs. You could already feel the bruises forming as his tongue pressed against the newest bite. You were sure your heart was about to force its way through your rib cage when you felt Kyoujuro’s breath through the thin, damp fabric of your panties.

“Kyoujuro,” you moaned as his hands slid along the outside of your thighs, bunching your skirt up around your waist. He pressed his tongue against the crotch of your panties, groaning lowly at the smallest hint of your taste.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“What? Kyou—“ You felt the cool, telltale bite of metal on your skin, freezing the words on the tip of your tongue.

Kyoujuro had managed to slip your own kunai from the holster usually around your calf without you noticing and was now sliding the blade along your skin.

You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Your whole body was frozen and you were sure that even your heart had stopped.

“I hope these aren’t your favourites,” Kyoujuro said.

The sharp blade sliced through the side of your skirt like the fabric was made of water. Your heart started again as he tossed the ruin cloth across the room. It was beating a thousand beats a second as he ran the blade along your hip, cutting through your panties as easily as your skirt. He cut the other side and tossed them away. He looked up at you, eyes sparkling.

“Did I scare you, love?” He asked. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t bear to move away to remove them. I should’ve asked before ruining your clothes.”

You stared at him. You’d never been more endeared and turned on at the same time by anyone else. Kyoujuro was going to drive you insane before he even fucked you. He shifted back as your eyes darkened.

“Kyoujuro, you have five seconds to put your cock in me before I pin you to the floor and take it myself,” you said. “And if you ever put a blade to my skin again…” Kyoujuro opened his mouth to apologise. “You had better be fucking naked.”

Kyoujuro’s lips curled up into a smile. He’d already started frowning and had probably been seconds away from bashing his forehead against the floor to formally apologise to you.

“Of course, I’ll remember that next time,” he said.

“Four seconds,” you counted down. “Lose the pants, Kyoujuro.”

Kyoujuro scrambled up to his feet, removing his pants and underwear in record time before he was back in between your legs. He wrapped his arms around them, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Two seconds, Kyoujuro,” you said. His cock was pressed between your folds as he grinded against you.

“You’re so impatient, love,” he said, smiling down at you. “Haven’t you heard that good things come to those who wait?”

“I’m a firm believer in taking what you— Kyoujuro!”

Your head fell back against the soft futon as Kyoujuro slowly pushed his cock into your wet core.

Fuck, you could wax poetic about his cock for hours. He was practically splitting you open with his girth and his length was nothing short of just plain unrealistic. It seemed like a heavenly injustice that one man would possess a cock as thick and as long as Kyoujuro’s. You were mentally thanking every deity you could think of for sculpting a person as perfectly as they had Kyoujuro.

“Can’t speak?” Kyoujuro teased. His cock was stretching you, molding you, to perfectly wrap around his shape. You swore that your body would never be the same, that nobody else would ever be able to fill you, to shape you, like Kyoujuro had. No one else could ever satisfy you half as much as Kyoujuro simply wrapping his cock in your gummy walls.

“Kyou.” You mewled his name. You couldn’t gather a single thought that amounted to more than singing his praises to the gods and you didn’t think his ego could handle it.

“Tell me what you want, love,” Kyoujuro said. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

His cock was heavy in your core. He wasn’t even moving, not rubbing your clit or anything, and already you wanted to cum all over his cock. You could feel the blunt head against your cervix, but the pain only registered as pleasure as he nudged against it. How was it at all fair to anyone that Kyoujuro had managed to bring you right to the edge without even trying while other lovers had put their all into just making you wet? It seemed truly unfair.

“You,” you finally managed to say. “Please, Kyou, want you. Please, I want more.”

Kyoujuro’s hands slipped under you, lifting you up off the futon. You cried out as your body shifted around his cock, giving you the slightest amount of friction that you so desperately needed.

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already stupid from my cock,” Kyoujuro cooed as you lazily hung your arms over his shoulders.

You couldn’t even argue with him. All you could think about was the cock currently distending the space between your hips.

“Kyou,” you whined. Your desperation was past simple wanting. You craved him. You needed him the way you needed oxygen in your lungs.

“It’s okay, love, I’m going to give you what you want,” he said. He brushed your hair back, tucking it behind your ear before his hands wrapped around your hips.

“Need,” you corrected breathlessly. “Need you.”

“You need my cock, love?” He asked, slowly lifting you up his length. Your walls fluttered around the emptiness, missing the addicting stretch.

You nodded. “Need you. Need your cock in me, Kyou.”

He dropped you down, your ass slapping against his thighs with a sharp sound. You gasped at the unexpected stretch, arms hugging around his neck tighter.

“Kyou!” You cried as he bounced you on his cock. Your toes curled as the blunt head of his cock battered your cervix.

“Fuck,” he growled. His fingertips were digging into your plush hips, nails biting into your skin hard enough to draw blood. “You were made for me, love. Your little cunt was meant for my cock. Just look at how well you take me.”

Your forehead leaned against his as you glanced down. Fuck, if he wasn’t so right! Your cunt was wrapped around his cock as if you really were made just for him. The way you swallowed him, the way you could see his cock bulging beneath your skin, the way your cunt weeped when he pulled out, all of it, was driving you crazy.

“Don’t you think you’re just perfect for me, love?” Kyoujuro asked. Your eyes snapped away from the hypnotic view and you met his eyes.

“Yes, yes, Kyou! Fuck, I was made for you, I’m yours! My cunt was made to take you, I’m meant for you,” you babbled, unable to stop the words from slipping past your lips. Your filter didn’t exist right now, your brain was too full of Kyoujuro to even separate your thoughts from your words.

“You’re mine?” He asked. He groaned loudly as your walls tightened around his cock.

“Yes! Please, I’m yours, Kyoujuro, everything is yours!” You cried. Your eyes were filling with tears, everything was just too fucking overwhelming. Your brain, your body, your entire being was overflowing with Kyoujuro. Everything was too much. The stretch from his cock, the pain from his hands, even his scent, was too much.

“That means that sweet, little cunt is mine, too. Right, love?” He asked.

You nodded, lips parting to speak but only moans pouring out.

“You’re too sweet, love,” he moaned. “So generous and giving, letting me take everything I want.”

“Kyoujuro!”

The tears in your eyes overflowed, spilling down your cheeks.

“And now you’re even giving me your beautiful tears,” Kyoujuro cooed. One of his hands left your hip and he wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry, love. I’m yours, too. Everything I am is for you. From my cock—“ He thrusted up, meeting your hips. “To my heart. Everything is yours.”

You cried out wordlessly as your walls clamped down around him and your stomach tensed. Your juices flooded out of you, coating his cock and his thighs with your essence. Your eyes rolled back and your vision went dark as your legs tightened around Kyoujuro’s waist, desperately trying to pull his cock deeper.

“Kyoujuro, Kyoujuro,” you whined as he continued to bounce you on his cock through your orgasm, drawing it out. If anything, he went faster and harder, your skin slapping against his wetly. “‘S too much, too much!”

“You can take it,” he grunted. “It’s your cock, so take it.”

Every thrust had pain zapping up your spine in the best way possible. You struggled against Kyoujuro’s unyielding hands, desperate to escape the overstimulation. It was pointless. Your body was completely spent, exhausted from exertion. Your bones felt like they were made of jello. You probably couldn’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag, much less the Flame Hashira’s iron grip on your hips.

“Hurts!” You whimpered. “Kyou, please! It’s too much!”

“Tell me to stop, then, love,” he challenged. “Tell me to stop and I’ll- fuck!- I’ll pull out and jerk myself off until I cum all over your pretty, little face.”

As much as the image of Kyoujuro towering over you and covering your face with his cum enticed you, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him from using you like a flesh and blood sex toy.

“That’s what I thought,” Kyoujuro purred. “You want me to cum in your little cunt, fill you up with my seed. Do you want a girl or a boy first?” You moaned at the thought of carrying Kyoujuro’s baby. “I’ve always- fuck, keep squeezing my cock just like that, love- I’ve always wanted a girl first.”

“Kyou, please,” you begged, leaning your face against his neck. “Please, want your baby in me.”

Kyoujuro moaned, pulling you down until your ass was flush against his thighs, burying his cock as deeply as he could in your core.

“Fuck, I’ll give you my babies, love,” Kyoujuro groaned as his cum filled you up. “Give you all the babies you want.”

Kyoujuro pumped you full of cum until it was leaking out around his cock, running down to his heavy balls. He held you to his chest as his cock twitched inside you, releasing one last spurt before he was finally done. Both of you were panting, unable to speak as you clung to him.

“Don’t want you to lose any of it,” he said as he carefully laid you down on his chest, cock softening inside you. “Gotta make sure it sticks.”

“I love you, Kyou,” you mumbled, resting your head on the side of his chest. Your hand came up, laying on his pec as your thumb caressed his sweat covered skin. You pressed a soft kiss on his chest. “Loved you since we were kids.”

“I love you, too,” he said. One of his hands held your lower back while the other rubbed up and down along your spine. “For most of my life and for the rest of it.”

You weren’t sure how long the two of you laid there. But the sun was low in the sky and your eyelids were nearly closed when a Kasugai Crow flew through your open window, perching near yours and Kyoujuro’s heads.

“Mission request for Flame Hashira Rengoku Kyoujuro!” It squawked. “Report to the Mugen Train in one week! Mugen Train in one week!”

You groaned, waving the bird away with your hand.

“Fucking crows,” you grumbled. Kyoujuro laughed, chest rumbling under you.

“One last solo mission before I sweep you away.”

[sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw]

Immortal - 9 (kinktober)

Midoriya - Knifeplay

AFAB reader

Warnings: 18+(minors dni), noncon, knifeplay, handle is used, not edited

Wordcount: 2, 926

Masterlist

Previous | Part 9 | Next

With some reluctance, Todoroki let you go. He unfroze  the restraints. He kept his eye on you, always on alert in case you were tricking him again. While walking out, you hooked your foot onto the clothes he had dropped and dragged them with you as he walked. He kept his hand on your wrist. Your eyes scanned around for some way out of your predicament. It was several rooms later when there was a bedroom. The fitting was a deep red and appeared smooth and soft.

That was when you noticed the vase near the bed. You quickly averted your gaze from it. You couldn’t risk him finding out. You rushed in the direction of the bed. He let your wrist drop from his hand. Good, he was letting his guard down. He thought that you couldn’t escape. You stop midway and turned to him, doing your best to fake a smile and excitement. He smiled back and stood right next to you. He raised a hand to stroke your hair behind your ear. While he was distracted, you reached for the vase. It took a few attempts, however you felt the cold of the rim and grasped it.

With one heave, you lifted the vase with all of your might and hurled it at his head. The vase obliterated into pieces in your hand. You saw his face twist into pain with his eyes screwed shut. You almost froze at the sound, but you couldn’t afford to hesitate.

You shoved him. You hadn’t meant for him to completely fall over, only to create space for you to run. But that made it better. You scooped up your clothes from the floor and dashed for the door. 

You placed your hand flat against the doorknob. There was a lock, but it needed a key. You didn’t have time to find that and settled with simply closing it. You turned when on the other side of the doorway. He still lay on the floor groaning, holding his head. Nevertheless, he was recovering. You gave it another five seconds until he stood. And an extra four seconds to gather himself if he didn’t see you. You quietly closed the door and made a run for it.

You counted to five. Though you couldn’t be certain if it had actually been five seconds with the pounding in your head. Either you out-ran him, or you hid. Your eyes darted around wildly for a hiding place.

Suddenly, Amajiki appeared, running at your side.

“How long were you there?” you demanded in the quieted voice you could.

“Just found you,” he gasped for air. “Sorry. It took a while to get myself unstuck. Thankfully, Bakugou got one of the doors open.”

You nodded, at that moment, you heard something. It might have just been the wind. But it sounded like someone crying out in anger. Someone who was hurt and out for vengeance.

You ran faster. Adrenaline coursed through you. Opening up doors as quickly as you could. Trying to get as far as you could.

You flung open a door. Not even a second passed when you recognized Twice and Mr. Compress on the other side. You immediately slammed the door closed again and continued running, barely missing a beat. You weren’t even sure if Amajiki had the chance to see who they were. And based on the lack of shouting or running behind you, that the villains had hardly seen you either, or at least were very confused. You glanced behind you. They weren’t following you. Thank goodness.

Then, you finally broke.The weight of everything crashing down on you in an instant. Everything you had tried to keep in the back of your mind as you tried to survive from one second to the next. Tears fell. Your lip quivered involuntarily. It became harder and harder to keep running, when you just wanted to curl in a ball and forget everything.

Your pace slowed, to the point when you had almost entirely stopped. You wiped tears from your eyes, but more just kept coming. Amajiki had stopped alongside you, and clearly noticed your condition. In a blur, you could see him reach out to comfort, but retract when he didn’t know how. He paused for a moment and took your hand.

“Over here. Just trust me.”

You wished you could retort with something strong willed or sarcastic, or at least something that sounded brave. Yet when you opened your mouth, all that would come out were sobs. You settled on simply nodding and he gently led you back a room or so. It was hard to see, but from what it looked like, he was pulling you to a large vanity and a wardrobe next to each other.

You wanted to ask how this was going to help when he crouched down and gestured for you to do the same. You did so and crawled under the vanity. There was a surprising amount of room under it. However, that was not what he was trying to show you. He pointed to a crevice between the back of the wardrobe and the wall. Enough room for a person to squeeze in.

You crawled into it. Backwards. It would make it easier crawling back out. Plus, Amajiki was probably planning on coming in too and you preferred to face him, The other wall was on the other side of the wardrobe. Meaning there was no chance anyone could see you.

Amajiki got in and looked around. “It’s one of my favorite hiding spots. Actually, I pulled out the wardrobe out to make this,” he began to laugh softly, but quickly stopped. “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t speak. Not while you were still crying like this. You felt disgusting. With eyes you could feel growing puffy and snot in your nose that wouldn’t clear no matter how many times you wiped it on your sleeve. But you could say that it felt nice to finally cry. You hadn’t done that since you first entered the mansion, and everything that happened to you was at least enough to justify a good cry.

Amajiki gently placed his hand on your shoulder. He softly rubbed. It was a small, yet appreciated gesture. After a few minutes, or however long it had been, you finally felt yourself relaxing again.

“Midoriya?” You said when you spotted the green hair.

After so long of searching, after you felt better from your cry, after so long of trying to be reunited, you finally found him again.

He whipped around and his eyes widened.

“Is that really you?”

“Yeah!” You glanced behind you, but Amajiki was already gone. It made you sad, but it was alright. “Are you alright?” you asked Midoriya. The last time you had seen him he was fighting a fire-crazy villain.

“Yeah. What about you? I’ve been looking everywhere for you, ever since that villain took you. Are you okay?"

You nodded. "More or less. I got away and I met Amajiki-"

"Amajiki? How long?"

"Uh, why?"

"He's a bad person, at least now he is. You can't trust him."

"Really?" Your brows furrowed together.

"Yes."

No matter how you looked at it, you couldn't see that being true. It felt great to see him again. To finally be reunited with the person who could potentially get you out. However, after everything and everyone you met, you were cautious. Either Amajiki was a bad person, like he said, or he wasn't. Maybe there was a misunderstanding, but either way, someone had to be wrong.

For now, you didn't say anything. You were just in a hurry to get out of the mansion. You prayed that he wasn't lying about it. But there was only one way to find out. One opportunity you didn’t want to accidentally pass up.

"Can we hurry? I don't want to be stuck here much longer."

"Of course. Follow me."

He began navigating his way through the rooms. You trailed behind him. The fact the rooms changed every so often surfaced in your mind. And you wondered if he never mentioned it or was trying to hide it.

“So… you know the way there?”

“Of course.”

“Where exactly do we need to walk to get to it? Which rooms?”

He hesitated in answering. “It might take a little while. But next is a right.”

You took note of this. Should you tell him that you know? Confront him and get an answer? But if he has some sort of ulterior motive and he found out you were onto him, it could get bad really fast. A part of you insisted on latching onto the idea that he was still someone you could trust. Maybe he has a secret way of knowing where it is? Maybe he didn’t want to worry you? Or he hadn’t realized it himself?

In that moment, you wondered why, if he knew a way out, why hadn’t he left before? In fact… You remembered asking this question earlier, yet… you couldn’t remember ever getting an answer

"If there is a way out, how come no one can seem to escape?"

He stalled once more. “There’s an obstacle preventing them every time, plus having to fin-" 

Find it. He did know. He just didn’t want you to know. You decided to pretend not to notice.

“What kind of obstacle?”

He let out a quick sigh of relief. “There’s a guard by the door. But don’t worry! I’ll be able to get you past him. I’ll distract him with a fight while you get out. Or maybe you could distract him and I could give him a solid hit to the head.”

 You nodded. Yet another piece of information to add to the things swimming in your head. You tried to search in that pool. Trying to find inaccuracies in anything he told you, or why he would be trying to trick you. He said that everyone needed to have sex, or else they might die. Dabi looked fine, but then again, you had no idea what he had done before you met him and he constantly raped and drugged you. Amajiki, now that you thought about it, looked confused when you asked if he needed to, but then again you had been very vague. And Todoroki said that he never thought he would get to do ‘that’. These were all the pieces of proof against it. …. DId you actually seen any proof for it yet? And Midoriya seemed fine.

Was Amajiki still close by? You glanced around the room, despite knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you said.

If you could talk with Amajiki, you could check what Midoriya had said is true. Just to be sure.

“There aren’t any bathrooms around here. And the toilets don’t flush. You’d need to hang out a window in a few rooms over.” He pointed in a specific direction.

You nodded. “Guess I’ll have to do that then.”

“I can help hang onto you so you don’t fall, if you want,” Midoirya offered

You tensed up and felt your stomach grow sick. You suddenly wanted to get away from him more than ever. “N-no. I’ll be alright.”

You walked through the door in the direction he pointed. The second the door was closed, after delaying for a few seconds in case he was in the room with you, you looked around and whispered.

“Amajiki? Are you here?”

You entered the next room and did the same. Once again. No response. Open another door. No response.

At this point, you were wondering if you should keep running just to get away from Midoriya, or go back to him in case he was telling the truth. You had a few minutes to decide and try to find Amajiki.

"Amajiki!” you whispered. “Is it not true that you guys need to have sex to survivie?" 

At that moment, an arm wrapped around your waist and you felt something cold and sharp against your neck.

“What’re you doing? I thought you were going to the bathroom. Why are you looking for Amajiki? I told you, you can’t trust him.”

Realizing the cat was out of the bag, you decided to let all of your hell loose on him.

“You mean I can’t trust you! You’ve been lying about everything, haven’t you!?”

You clawed at his hold on you and tried to push away. Feelings of betrayal and disappointment turned to anger. You wanted to punch, poke his eyes, beat him even when he was curled up on the floor for turning out to be yet another person you couldn’t trust.

You completely forgot about the knife in that moment. You remembered when he pressed it closer against you. 

"What do you mean?" he said. You could hear the teasing in his voice.

The knife stopped you from fighting back, but not from yelling back.

"You guys don't need to fuck to 'live' at all, don't you?" 

"Of course, we do. In fact I think you need to right now." His knife left your throat and lowered it to your pants.

"Stop! You psychopath!" 

He pushed the knife against your throat against in a flash. "Ah ah ah."

You bit your tongue. It pricked from the pressure of your teeth. Your hands clenched tightly.

"Now." He grabbed at the hem of your pants. The blade was still at your neck.

"No!" You yelled, not caring about the pressure of the blade.

He roughly pulled the fabric down. When your panties refused to be stripped so easily, he brought the knife down. You saw his intent to cut them and struggled again. He brought the knife back against your skin. You repeated this at least two more times until they were off, and without him cutting any of it.

"Is there even an actual way out of this hellhole?" You said, partly trying to stall him.

"Yes." In this moment he had no reason to lie, other than to mess with you, but even besides that. His tone sounded genuine.

He dragged the knife up and down your body. On your leg and on your torso when he lifted your shirt up. Its tip made the slightest indent in your skin as it ran along it, but never broke it. The sensation and slight fear sent a shiver down your spine. At that point, the blade had warmed up.

He stopped at your fold and gently ran and prodded the knife at it.

You gasped. "No. You wouldn't." 

You stared down in horror. He slowed, to the point where it was painful. Extra seconds in agony, hoping he wouldn't do what you thought he would. However, he drew the knife away and flipped it upside down. So the blade pointed at the floor and you were safe for now.

"You didn't think I would do something that evil, did you?"

You breathed a sigh of relief.

"But I would do this."

He plunged the handle of the knife into your unprepped pussy. You hissed at the sudden intrusion. He pinched the blade between his thumb and index finger. Pushing it up into you. You grit your teeth together. You clenched down on it, almost as if trying to push it out of you. 

It took you a moment longer than it should have to realize that you no longer had a reason to not fight back. If you were quick enough, maybe you could get away and pull that knife out to use as your own weapon. With a deep breath, you shoved his arms away and began to make a break for it.

You were just a fraction of a second away making it out of his reach. You had grabbed hold of the blade and we're about to tug it out. But he grabbed you once more. A steel grip holding you against him. He slapped your hand away from the blade and took grip of it. The end of it was still in you.

"Don't," jab, "do," jab, "that." He finished with one deep push.

Your nails dug into the arm that was around your waist. You hardly even noticed the tears flowing from your eyes. You glared at him.

Somehow, you didn't know why, he faltered. He let go of the knife and just… stopped.

"God, I'm sorry."

He pulled out the knife and tossed it to the other side of the room. He hugged your body. 

"Sorry I've... become one of them."

Disgusted. That's all you felt. Relief, confusion, that he stopped. But you just wanted to get away. Heck, at this point you almost wanted to toss yourself out the window.

You didn’t want to hear any of it. You stomped on his foot, tore him off of you, and ran. You ran through the door and slammed it shut. Glancing all around for something to barricade the door, you spotted a key sitting on a table in the corner. You nabbed the key, slid it in the lock with success and twisted it 'til it clicked.

You smiled and allowed yourself a moment for your small victory. But the weight in you prevented you from enjoying it for long. With heavy eyes, legs, and heart, you stumbled over to the window and tugged a curtain down. Wiping excess tears, you laid down under that table in the corner, covered yourself with the curtain, and closed your eyes.

Next

[jack-santafe]

Why wouldn't I? If you've seen worse, perhaps you care to do worse. ~ Cherry

Alright then, just a bit deeper now.

[kimseokjinsthighs]

"Keptin."

"Ensign."

Kirk gives a short nod and quick smile when Chekov passes, drawing no attention to the fire in Pavel's eyes and the way Kirk's own breath hitches for just a moment.

Hours ago that boy was under his hands and under his knife. In reality, Pavel had all the control. Of all the things Kirk had done before, this was the first time he'd taken a blade to someone else's body for pleasure. He found he liked it. Like really liked it. Liked the way Pavel would run his thumb over the cuts, gather the drops, and paint Kirk's lips. He liked the taste of copper, he liked the way it mixed with Chekov's toothpaste, and he liked the way Chekov would guide his hand to a new fresh spot to mar and slice again.

"Now. Do it now."

Kirk nodded and dragged the blade the way Pavel had just taught him. A whine and a thrust followed quickly.

"Please."

"One more, then we're done."

Pavel looked crestfallen until Kirk shuddered out a breath.

"I can't do anything I want to do to you with this damn knife in my hand. I'm gonna mark you up with this, and then I'm gonna do it my way."

Kirk could instantly feel the nails in his back as Pavel came all across Kirk's stomach. He gingerly placed the knife on the nightstand as Chekov, embarrassed, buried his head in the nook of Kirk's shoulder.

"Oh my god. I am so sorry."

Kirk couldn't help but smirk just a little bit. "No, it's okay. This is actually a welcome change for me."

"I just- it's been a long time and you - vell, you are so good at taking control."

"Thanks. I kinda hope so, considering I'm your boss and everything."

"Is cute you think that." Chekov grinned mischievously, trying to sit up. He winced only slightly as he did so, the cuts pulling in different ways. "Can you help me, Keptin?"

"Only if you keep calling me that, Ensign."

He beamed as Kirk reached over to grab the bandages on the side table. "Yes, sir!"

[jack-santafe]

F-Fuck... You get cocky, I throw you back in line. That's all. But god, look at that... It's like rubies, ain't it? Hope you can stomach it, babe. ~ Cherry

I’ve seen worse, sweetheart. Tell me, would you like more?

[dabiapologist]

Fushimi Headcanon:

Fushimi likes to play with his daggers in the middle of meetings and discussions, because keeping his hands occupied helps him pay attention. Sometimes he twirls them, sometimes he flips them up in air and catches them, and sometimes, he just likes to drag the blade along the backs of his hands or anywhere where his skin is visible; not hard enough to cut or anything, but just hard enough to feel the cold of the blade. 

The feather-light sensation is literally the most relaxing thing to him, and there have been (and still are) numerous instances where he lets out a little moan or a sigh, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone in the room is discreetly (and sometimes not so discreetly)staring at him.

No one says anything about it though, for numerous reasons:

a) Fushimi was bumped up to third-in-command so soon after joining SCEPTER 4 for a reason, and everyone assumes it has something to do with the fact that he can find total comfort in playing with knives.  

 b) He's usually so cold, rude, and sarcastic that this side of him is completely alien. Many of them secretly like seeing Fushimi with his guard down; he looks a little more human.

c) And well, sometimes it's just hot to watch.