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Yandere Kirishima x Reader - Reprimand

Unfortunately, I’m back! Hopefully I’ll get back into a more regular upload schedule from now on. Anyway, here’s part two to this! I know this isn’t great, but I needed to write something to get myself out of this rut. Also this is sort of a Christmas offering to @ikinabi​, if this pleases you then my life is fulfilled. Also I like yandere Kirishima apparently so I might just make this a series or something. Enjoy! xoxo

(Part 1)

TW: Sorta NSFW, yandere, blood, asphyxiation, physical abuse

“So pretty…” 

Your captor mumbled as calloused fingers combed through your locks. It was therapeutic to Eijirou; to tend to your hair every morning before the hero left for work. You were crushed against his firm torso, ensuring you couldn’t slip from his grasp. Your cries and pleas were met with dismissive hums, as he assured you again and again that ‘There’s no need to be scared, princess’. All he wanted was to take care of you, and for you to just let him. Crimson eyes gleamed with childlike anticipation as he twirled you toward the mirror. “What’dya think, babe? Do you like it?” His voice was dripping with excitement, craving your approval like a coveted drug. His efforts, despite being the product of his drowning adoration, did not produce a… refined result. It was established early during your captivity that submission was met with reward; a kiss to remove that damnable gag, an embrace to rid yourself of the burning ropes around your wrist. So you nodded, slowly and hesitantly as tears trickled down your cheeks. A grin, sharp and beaming, cut across his face. That love-drunk gaze, so maniacal in its infatuation, was enough to chill you to the core. It was a routine Eijirou was adamant on maintaining.

It soon proved to be his mistake. 

You stilled your breath in an attempt to make your fingers do the same. The hair-pin in each hand rattled against the lock. Just like they do in the movies, you told yourself over and over, hoping it would somehow cease the shaking of your fingers. Behind that reinforced window, was freedom. Kirishima was attending some mandatory gala event among his fellow heroes, giving you ample time to enact your escape, and the cover of night would prove useful against the subsequent man-hunt that would surely ensue after he found you missing. The promise of breathing air unpolluted by his musk or the intrusive scent of his cologne was utterly tantalizing. That hope, that dream, was made more tangible with each click and slide of the lock mechanism.

“C’mon…” You muttered, the tension against the pins mounting, threatening to snap as they inched further into the lock. Then, slicing through the silence, an almost deafening creak resounded.

The window didn’t budge. You struggled to breathe as it became clear - footsteps, pounding toward you. Trembling hands released their hold on the hair-pins, falling to the floor. It was hard not to scream in frustration, or breakdown in insurmountable terror. The door inched open, an exasperated sigh escaping your captor as he sauntered in. Each step toward you made you wince as they echoed throughout the room. You suppressed a shriek when strong arms coiled around your torso, his nose pressing against the base of your neck. Kirishima inhaled deeply - he had to get his fill after being apart from you for so long. He hummed, pressing his lips gently upon your skin.

“I missed you so much, princess. I wish you could’ve come with me.” He let out a tired chuckle as his chin rested upon your shoulder. “They don’t think you’re real, would you believe it? Saying shit like if you were really my girlfriend you’d be there with me.” A lingered kiss was placed upon your cheek. “But you are real-” Calloused fingertips explored your arms, shoulders, every piece of exposed skin he could relish in. The sound of his breath hitching, it’s warmth invading the nape of your neck, made your heart pound faster - he was getting excited, that much was certain.

“And you’re all mine.” He traced kisses across your neck, quietly reaffirming ‘mine’ between each affection. Gently, he gripped you by the waist and pulled you toward the bed. Slowly sitting himself upon the mattress, he pulled you atop his strong, muscular thighs. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding frantically. A deep hum resonated from his chest, digits lovingly raking through your hair.

Oh god, your hair. The accessories he’d so carefully placed were now strewn about the floor. Your thoughts grew panicked, nigh incomprehensible. He could notice, he would piece it together, if he found out he’d surely -

“Come on, (Y/n), talk to me.” His tongue clicked in his mouth, rough fingers gripping your chin and turning you to face him as carefully as he could. Seeing his face, his serene smile, was enough to make the words ball in your throat. Your lips quivered, his eyes beaming as he anticipated the sound of your angelic voice.

“I c-could’ve come with you, I-” A fervent kiss silenced you, his hand cupping your cheek to support the exchange. He pulled away, brows clearly furrowed. With a disheartening sigh, Kirishima shook his head.

“You know I can’t do that, babe.” His lips lunged to your neck, imprinting kisses against the tender flesh. “I want to, I really do. I want to show everyone how lucky I am,” His mouth shifted to your shoulder, your eyes widening as you felt his sharp teeth graze your skin. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.” With animalistic ferocity, he sunk his teeth into your flesh. You whimpered in pain, tears pricking your eyes as you felt blood seep from the wound. Kirishima was eager to lap up the warm substance, working and sucking against the imprint. A powerful arm wrapped around you, keeping you from flinching away as he properly marked you. You opted to squeeze your eyes shut; to pretend you were anywhere but here. A smirk pressed against your skin, a satisfied grunt erupting from the hero at your apparent complacency. “Such a good girl for me.”

His large hand rested against the back of your head, digits entangling with strands of your hair. You felt him pause, and you could swear your heart did the same. Had he noticed? You had to distract him, he couldn’t be allowed find out.

Against your better judgement, you shifted upon his lap until your body faced his. Hesitantly, your hands met his broad chest, inching toward the collar of his dress shirt. His mouth was slightly agape, his pupils dilated with a cocktail of surprise and excitement. Kirishima couldn’t believe what was happening, you were initiating it. Shaky fingers hooked against his tie, slowly working to undo the tight knot. You didn’t dare meet his gaze, terrified of glimpsing at the lust that swirled among the crimson. “B-babe? What are you doing?” His face flared with an impossible red, his pants growing tighter and more uncomfortable with each passing second.

“I-I want to be good for you, Ei-Eijirou.” You cursed at the transparent fraudulence of your words. Kirishima, however, was too euphoric to care. Unsatisfied with the clumsy pace of your digits, he violently yanked his tie away. He made quick work of his shirt buttons, exposing the powerful mass of muscle hidden beneath. His large hands gripped your wrists tightly, guiding your palms against his sculpted torso. He eased them across the rigid canyons of his abdomen, his blush darkening at your touch. 

“S-so strong…” You rest your palms against his defined chest, leaning into the crook of his neck. The scent of his expensive cologne is overbearing as you imprint a fleeting kiss upon his skin. You feel his heart thump, his breath growing more erratic and unrestrained.

“F-fuck, princess,” Eijirou grits his teeth as you gently knead his flesh, throwing his head back to allow you more leeway. “I-It’s all to protect you, so I can keep you safe.” His muscles tense, affirming the immense power they hold. You pause to breathe, to steady yourself. It’s hard not to feel disgusted, not when that prominent protrusion bucks roughly against you.

But Kirishima is impatient. In an instant, you’re thrown unto your back, Eijirou looming over you with your wrists pinned beside your head. Lips smash against your own, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He presses his powerful body atop yours, his deep rumbles of delight sending vibrations across your skin. Shark-like teeth sink into your lips, humming as he savors the delectable metallic taste. Your pained whimpers, your weak gasps for air, they’re all so adorable. His fingers intertwine with your locks, pulling slightly to allow his tongue greater dominion over yours.

At first, you’re relieved when he finally pulls away - desperately trying to fulfill the oxygen debt he so eagerly created. But relief melts into abject terror as the muscles of his brow tense, his eyes squinting in scrutiny. Despite the invasive heat of his heavy pants against your face, you’re frozen. 

“Babe…” Kirishima agonizingly pauses. You wanted to break free from his suffocating gaze, but it was futile - every fiber of your being was utterly petrified. “Where’s your..” He glanced back to the window.

You couldn’t hold it back, the tears trailing down your cheeks. He figured it out, didn’t he? 

“Ei-Eijirou it’s not-”

His head snapped back to you. Fury danced upon the rigidity of his features, his breathing labored from barely restrained rage rather than impassioned lust. That voice, often jovial, was seethed through barred teeth. “Did you…?”

You choked on your frantic words, your sobs indicative of your guilt. “I-I’m sorry! I promise, I-I won’t try it ever -”

“Shut up,” Kirishima growls. His grip on your wrists tighten painfully, eliciting a sharp cry. In an instant, he releases his hold on one arm, slamming a balled fist into the bed mere inches away from your head. Your mouth gapes in terror, his knuckles straining threateningly against the skin. The fingers unfurl, instead quickly snaking around your throat in a vice grip. His thumb hardens, pressing against your windpipe with a crushing force. Hot, angry tears trail down his face, his teeth grinding against each other as he spits a stream of muttered vulgarities. You’re gasping; silently pleading for the respite of air, which only spurs his thumb to drive deeper against your throat.

“Why are you making me do this?!” Eijirou squeezed his eyes shut, heart wrenching in his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you. Why can’t you just let me keep you safe? What if you got hurt out there?” Every word threatens to break, his voice unsteady and pained. “Why couldn’t you just behave?!”

Kirishima’s senses regain when he sees your eyelids dipping, releasing his immovable hold. He cups your cheeks with calloused palms, tears mingling with your own as they drip upon your face. Somehow, his softened expression of apprehension is more terrifying than that of rage.

“I’ve been too lenient, haven’t I?” His hand left your cheek, slowly inching down your arm as he shook his head. Eijirou’s fingers interlocked with yours - and they harden. He isn’t choking you anymore, so why can’t you breathe?

“I’m sorry, princess. I don’t want to do this, but what choice do I have?”

You shake your head frantically, your sobs amplifying. He flashes a weak smile, a deranged attempt at reassurance.

“I-I need to punish you, (Y/n). How else are you going to learn?” A brief, apologetic kiss is placed at the corner of your mouth.

The hardened digits crushingly tighten.

“I just want the best for you. You know that, right?”

Tighter

All that work to earn his praise and leniency - gone. That trust you so meticulously earned was crushed, the bones in your hand threatening to do the same. Kirshima shushed your whimpers and cries of pain as he tightened his grip.

“Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Take it like a good girl, for me.”

Tighter

Blinding agony, blurred vision, his voice resounding against your ear.

“I love you,”

Tighter

“So never make me do this again.”

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 💌: reposted! accidentally uploaded it way too early for my liking, oopies

ₘₐₛₜₑᵣₗᵢₛₜ

ₙₐᵥᵢGₐₜᵢₒₙ

Kirishima has a badass daughter, literally. If you thought that out of all the lineages, this family has nothing but chivalry and kindness driving in their bloodstream since they have Kirishima as their surname, you are misinformed.

You see, she's like my sister: always partying, doesn't like being told no, comes back home an hour after the established time, and always. talking. back. ESPECIALLY to her mama.

And when you attempt to correct her, Kirishima always steps up to convince you (ahem, you with a belt secured in your hand) to lessen down her punishment since "she doesn't know better!" or "she's still a baby!"

Then gets taken down with her as well.

Fr he be feeling like he's starting a movement

You knew she was going to turn out like this since she's the youngest of three and the only daughter. Y'all already know how much of a girl-dad Kirishima is

She always wants to be coddled with her daddy and make it seem like you're the villain which he sometimes believes 🙂 Again, behavior from being pampered way too much ever since she a day old

She still loves you tho anyways

How do you feel about kirishima?

Hmmm, I don't know 😑 he's not really my type

𝙎𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂. ─ k. eijiro.

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦 ─ (n.) love; lit. "I wish to be with you until death."

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ─ kirishima x gender-neutral!reader

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ─ I recommend listening to "if you love me" by Brenda Lee before reading this for the aesthetic, yet if you don't that is also fine since this is only a small drabble BUT it's really a good song you should check out afterward. Oh, and marriage and gooey fluff 🤢

IF AT LAST, OUR LIFE ON EARTH IS THROUGH

The music was fogged as two lovers slightly swayed on the tiny octagon gazebo adorned with the sandy glow of the vintage string lights. Your arms are gently enclosed around his neck as so his around your waist. You're so close that your foreheads connect, noses occasionally browsing against the other as you gingerly rocked jointly.

I WILL SHARE ENTIRETY WITH YOU

It must've been from all the walking Kirishima did today because his black shoelaces became relaxed and drooled onto the wooden floor. Without knowing, you accidentally stepped onto one and he narrowly falls more into you, enclosing the tiny neighborhood your snouts held.

You both give a dusty chuckle and stood there for what felt like a new era. Your eyes are still closed until (e/c) globes are freed from its shields when you detect your husband soften his jaw to speak, but then eventually decides to go against it as no words can leak from it. He resumes back to cradle you.

IF YOU LOVE ME, REALLY LOVE ME

No word is announced as the edge of the song draws nearer, and if there are, your mind is unoccupied without the bossy thoughts running rapid in your mind except one. Your eyes narrow as you stare longingly at your spouse's lips, believing how much you want to lean in and...

LET IT HAPPEN, I WON'T CARE

And you do. This one is different, though. The kiss shared here at the octagon gazebo wasn't as brief as the one standing on the alter or meeting guests. This kiss however was just as wanting as the one on the matrimony but extended.

You could feel kirishimas lips melt as he pushed further into the kiss that he dipped into you, just as eager as you were.

IF YOU LOVE ME, REALLY LOVE ME

His lips curve into a closed smile, the ones where you dimples begins to show.

"I love you." the voice belonging to the man is barely above a whisper as he kissed your smile lines.

LET IT HAPPEN, DARLING, I

"God I fucking love you." this time his voice erupts like an earthquake, trembling and having a big impact on you.

WON'T

"I love you too."

CARE

𝙎𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂. ─ based on this little answer!

Want more? view my 𝗡𝗔𝗩𝗜 & 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗧 or just skip right to the 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧. Or maybe just follow!

a/📓 : okay, I've been wanting to invest in this headcannon ever since november first but that seemed inappropriate 😒 so here it is!

Okay, so you and Kiri have two daughters that are age five and four. Kirishima wanted to do something special for them and dress up like Santa Claus and pleaded for you to help carry with this idea. Obviously, you do.

The plan was to help Kirishima get suited up, wait by the Christmas tree and then you would go upstairs to wake the girls to tell them that the Santa Claus arrived to greet them and also watch how their pretty unripe faces would brighten with excitement.

Only that didn't happen.

You guys didn't even make it to phase two of the plan which was to have kirishima pose by the tree.

Fault number one, you miscalculated that your girls would be asleep (what kind of child falls to sleep knowing Christmas day is in a few hours?). Fault number two, your daughters heard thumping and giggles originating from downstairs which was from both of your goofy asses imposing Kirishima into the costume, so they came to the thought that Santa came without your clarification and they skulked downstairs and peeked through the wooden railing infested with fake, sparkly garlands.

And finally, fault number three, they saw mommy kissing Santa Claus.

(they jumped the gifts out of him.)

CERAMIC LIPS — just a little drabble of what it would be like if kirishima was into pottery.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. kirishima eijiro x reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. gender-neutral, high school au, no quirks au, fluff, not proofread so beware

kirishima eijiro, the quiet boy in your 6th-period ceramics class.

he has loud buddies, though. you recollect on the time you saw a blonde boy with yellow eyes leap onto his back, closely being pursued by a black-haired boy with awful posture and piercings, and the blonde-haired boy with crimson eyes and a frown craved on his face. you already knew his name from all the times your science teacher seated you two together for a project. you guys work together well she would say.

in here, however, kirishima is all straight face and silent since his friends aren't here to deflect. you know he's mrs urumi's favorite, she's always gloating about his works or peaking over his shoulder.

you didn't want to select ceramics as an elective for your second semester, but since you waited so long your only options were photography or exploration of ceramics. without delay, you picked ceramics.

kirishima was advanced in ceramics, always modeling extract sculptures or heads with intense care. he always looked so in love with his final productions.

while spinning your grossly saturated clay on your potter's wheel, you green-eyed him. you weren't confident if your jealousy was bred by noticing how elegant and diverse his creations came out while you only knew how to make a cock-eyed teacup, or how he cradles the life-size head so gingerly while enhancing details on its gray lips. His crimson eyes possess so much tenderness and warmth in them.

so much love and...

and your feet slowly add more pressure on the foot pedal the more you gawk at him. eventually, it builds a lanky, clay tentacle that was spiraling from the acceleration of the wheel it dangled on. the clay tentacle sprinkles portions of itself onto other tables —causing them to groan in annoyance— and attaches slivers of sludge onto your apron.

your teacher shrieks, yelling at you to stop the wheel, jerking you out of your trance. you lifted your foot from the pedal and watch your limp, mud tentacle slowly swirl to a break.

the girls in the corner giggle at you, though they're the ones all blemished in scars of clay. you feel the temperature rise in the room when you sense a pair of red eyes flick at you. Maybe photography could've fitted you better than this shitshow.

unbeknownst to you, he grins and continues working on his piece. he might look like he's in love with his work, but this personal piece has his heart beating out of his chest.