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tengen knows how to make love look grand. diamonds, silk, and fireworks. he’s a man who turns affection into spectacle. when he falls for you, he spares no effort in making you feel like the center of the universe. compliments pour like wine, touches linger longer than they should, and every gaze he casts burns with too much intensity to be casual.

at first, it feels intoxicating. tengen makes you feel larger than life, adored, worshipped. but beneath the flash lies a darker hunger, because tengen doesn’t simply love, he claims. and once his eyes lock on you, once he decides you’re worth his devotion, it’s no longer a choice. he cannot stand the thought of you shining anywhere but by his side. his obsession manifests in control hidden beneath luxury. he’ll dress you in jewels, call you his most precious treasure, yet the weight of those adornments is a reminder: you belong to him. every gift is a chain wrapped in silk.

tengen’s derangement blooms in his possessiveness. he can smile, laugh, even act indulgent, but the moment someone else’s attention lingers on you, his demeanor shifts. there’s steel behind the smile, a warning in the way his hand presses against the small of your back. he’ll laugh it off in public, but in private, he makes clear that you don’t need anyone else. he gives you everything. isn’t that enough?

and unlike others, tengen wouldn’t hesitate to use force if he felt you slipping away. not violence, exactly, but coercion wrapped in affection. arms that hold too tight, lips that murmur too sweetly, promises and pleas entwined with threats you can barely catch. “you’re mine, flamboyantly so. and if you think i’ll let you walk away… you don’t know me at all.”

giyu is not good with people. he knows this. his words fail him, his presence unsettles, and he’s grown accustomed to a life where connections slip away before they can take root. but with you, it’s different. for the first time, he doesn’t want distance. he wants to keep you so close that no one else can touch the fragile bond between you.

at first, his obsession wears the mask of protection. he watches from shadows, intercepts threats before they ever reach you. he doesn’t explain, doesn’t ask for permission. it simply becomes his responsibility to guard you. and once he decides that, there is no undoing it.

his love is heavy, suffused with guilt. he convinces himself that if he lets you out of his sight, tragedy will strike and that you’ll end up like the countless lives he couldn’t save. it gnaws at him, the thought of you slipping away. he doesn’t tell you the truth: that it isn’t only about protection, but about possession. your safety is the excuse. your presence is the prize.

giyu’s obsession grows in silence. the way he lingers outside your door at night, listening for your breathing. the way his hand twitches when someone else stands too close, like he’s restraining himself from drawing his sword. he doesn’t threaten or rage. instead, he simply inserts himself into every corner of your life, until solitude is impossible. the derangement lies in his restraint. giyu would never admit to it, never let the words you belong to me slip past his lips. but it bleeds through his actions: the suffocating control masked as quiet concern, the way his eyes follow you like a shadow that will never vanish.

if you tried to leave him, he wouldn’t shout, wouldn’t fight. he would simply stand there, silent and immovable, until your resolve crumbled. because you’ll see it in his eyes: the unyielding certainty that he will not let you go.

luffy doesn’t fall in love the way other men do. he doesn’t have that slow burn of nervous touches and lingering glances. for him, the moment he decides you’re his person, that’s it. it’s a certainty that settles deep in his bones. the world could shift, oceans could change, and still, his eyes would always find you first.

his obsession comes wrapped in simplicity: he wants you close. always. sitting beside him at meals, laughing at his stories, sleeping near enough that he can hear you breathe. at first it feels innocent, almost boyish, but it quickly becomes a chain disguised as affection. luffy cannot understand why you’d need space. why you’d walk off on your own when his arms are right there, open and waiting. he isn’t calculating enough to manipulate, but he is relentless. if you drift too far, he’ll follow. if you cry or push him away, he’ll stare at you with wide, wounded eyes, as though your resistance doesn’t make sense. his possessiveness is raw, unfiltered, frightening in its purity. it’s not a matter of if you’ll stay; in his mind, you already belong to him.

and if someone threatens to take you? if another man’s hand lingers too long on your arm, or another pirate so much as makes a joke at your expense? that’s when luffy’s obsession turns sharp. violence comes easy to him, and he’d unleash it without hesitation. grinning, bloodied, he’d stand over a fallen enemy and declare, with terrifying certainty:

“they’re mine. don’t touch.”