#already loving how you drew the yukatas

[nymphoheretic]

Synopsis: You return injured from a mission, but you miss your dear husband's touch and he would never hurt you.

Warnings: praise, daddy kink, pet names( princess, spitfire, baby girl), breeding/creampie

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: Kyoujuro Rengoku x Fem!reader

Tagging the rengoku girlies(gn): @bakugosbratx @renhoeku @glz-100 @herohibiscus @potofstewie @comatosebunny09 @cherryblossomsenpai @linpunny @unknownspecies @yeahitzally @taisho-era-secrets @auraee @diorsbrando @kyojuro-my-wuv @wanderingfaee and the network @tokyometronetwork

Join the Rengoku girlies: https://forms.gle/YGTATcvxh2oAUc3o9

You swatted away your husband's hands as he tried to tend to your wounds for the umpteenth time today since you returned from yourmission. You were assigned to kill a demon that had been plaguing a village. Before you managed to slice its neck, its claws caught you on the side of your abdomen and cheek. "Kyou, I said that I'm fine! Shinobu already dressed my wounds and gave me some medicine."

He puffed his cheeks out and crossed his arms over his chest. Kyoujuro was always  so overprotective of you even though you were a Kinoto ranked demon slayer. You knew he meant well, but you could handle a few wounds every now and then. "Are you sure?" He reached out and touched the wound maring your face. "That damn demon dared to scare your beautiful face."

You placed your hand over his and leaned into his touch, a sigh leaving your lips. You slowly moved his hand from your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his palm. "Yes, I'm sure, honey." You nodded your head. "But..." you gave him an once over, drinking in how handsome he looked in that dark blue yukata. Kyoujuro was always so handsome when he wore casual clothing with his hair loose around his shoulders. "There is something that can make me feel better."  You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Kyoujuro submitted to your lips for a second before gently pushing you away. "I don't want to hurt you. The wounds on your waist haven't healed completely."

You smiled at his concern and cupped his face in your hands, kissing his cheeks softly. "Kyou, you could never hurt me. Please? I need to feel you. It's been far too long." You pressed soft kisses along his jawline and neck, knowing that it was his weakness.

Kyoujuro looked down at you, his gaze soft and tender. He still looked a bit conflicted about it but finally gave in to your temptations. "Okay. You win, Love. But we take it slow. I don't want to reopen your wounds." He placed his hands gently on your hips, being very mindful of the gash that wrapped around it. Kyoujuro slowly moved in to claim your lips in a sweet, passionate kiss. 

You moaned softly as your arms came up to wrap around his neck, your fingers tangling in his soft blond hair. His tongue slid into your mouth and caressed yours in a slow seductive dance. His hands moved carefully up the side of your body to the front of your black demon slayer uniform top, quickly popping the buttons open. Kyoujuro moved slowly, carefully and almost like you were made of glass as he removed your uniform top. Your fingers curled into his hair as his tongue began to trace patterns along your flesh, his lips suckling at the skin every now and then.

“You be a good girl and let me do everything.” Kyoujuro mumrued against your skin as he used his nose to part your jacket open so that he could wrap his tongue around your nipple. He drew the pebbled flesh into his mouth and sucked causing a loud moan to leave your throat as you chanted his name. His fingers found their way up under the skirt of your uniform and he toyed with your dampening panties, rubbing two thick fingers along the wet spot. “Already this wet and I’ve barely touched you, my sweet.”

Another soft mewl left you, the pleasure starting to make your legs weak. You slumped slightly only for Kyoujuro to wrap his arms around you at your waist and knees carefully, and pick you up, all without letting go of your breast. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you held him in place against your chest. Your thighs clenched together as Kyoujuro carried you to your bedroom. 

He laid you gently down on the plush mattress as he moved his mouth to the neglected breast, his hand coming up to twist the other nipple. His other hand pulled your leg up so tht he could glide his fingers down your thigh until they reached your underwear. Kyoujuro then hooked one finger into the waistband and pulled them down your legs.

Kyoujuro released your breast in favor of pressing hot, wet kisses down your abdomen, pausing when he reached the white bandages that were wrapped around your wounds. He looked up at you with concern in those golden-vermillion eyes of his. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” His hand came up to rest on your uninjured cheek.

You grabbed his hand and pressed it to your lips. “I already said you could never hurt me, Kyou.” You reassured him, shifting your hips, feeling that ball of heat starting to burn low in your belly. “I need you, baby. Please?” you batted your eyelashes at him and poked your bottom lip out slightly. You knew what would get to him, but you were saving your secret weapon for later.

He still looked a bit conflisted about doing this while you were injured, but he relented. Kyoujuro could never tell you “no”, especially when it came to intimacy. Kyoujuro leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your bandages before moving lower. He lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders. 

Turning his head, his tongue slipped out and gave your calf a long lick before he nibbled on the muscle. “These beautiful legs of yours. I can’t help but to want to bite and nibble on them. Especially those plush, strong thighs of yours.” He slid his body down until he was level with your inner thighs which he quickly latched his lips on.

Another moan rumbled in your throat when his teeth sunk into your thigh, his tongue flicking over the flesh. You knew Kyoujuro always enjoyed leaving his marks on you and had no shame about the ones you left on him. You pulled at his loose hair when he nibbled his way down my thigh, his breath ghosting over your bare cunt. “Kyou...please....I need it...” You whined softly, curling your fingers deeper into his hair.

“Patience, wife, patience.” He hummed as he moved to your other leg, dragging the tip of his tongue over the flesh, his teeth grazing gently before embedding in your thigh. You felt him slowly trail his fingers along my other thigh slowly moving towards your clenching pussy. 

Your body jolted when he finally touched your aching center and a choked gasp left your throat. Kyoujuro immediately stopped and looked at you . “Are you okay?” He glanced at your bandages to make sure that your wound had not reopened. “Sorry...” he apologized, his hands grazing over your wound.

You sighed before pushing him over and climbing on top of him. “If you’re so worried about hurting me. Let me do it. I know my limits.” You cupped his cheeks in your hands and kissed his lips as you straddled his waist.

 Pulling away, you saw the hesitant look in his eyes and knew it was time to bring out your secret weapon. You leaned in close to his ear, your arms dangling around his neck as you whined out, “Please, Daddy...I need to feel my daddy’s cock so deeply inside me.” You felt his hands on your hips almost instantly. 

Kyoujuro growled as he quickly tugged at his obi and freed his cock from the confines of the fabric. “Naughty little fireball, you know what calling me that does to me.” He lifted you up by your hips, and positioned the head of his dick at your slick entrance. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”’

Wiggling your hips, you smirked as you slowly began to ease down on him, moaning at the feeling of being stretched to take him. “I don’t know...Ah~...what you’re...Fuck~....talking about.”  You tossed your head back as you took all of him in, feeling so full – the bulbous head of his fat cock pressed so tightly against your sweet spot. You slowly rocked your hips agains his, causing a friction that sent pleasure down your spine. “Fuck, Kyou...That feels so good.”

He sighed as he rested his hands on your hips, doing his best to not squeeze me like he normally would. “You’re so lucky I love you.”  Kyoujuro pulled you in closer as he began to thrust upward, ramming his cock into you at a slow careful pace. You wrapped your  arms around his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “Fuck...you’re so tight. Please let me know if this becomes too much, baby girl and I will stop.”

You let out another lustful sounding mewl as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. You ran your tongue up the column of his throat before licking the shell of his ear. “Kyou...” You crooned. “I am okay. Now, please, fuck me, Daddy.” You bit his earlobe, knowing that was one of his weak points. 

Another moan left you as his thrust became deeper, his grip just a bit tighter on your waist. You grimaced slightly at the pressure on your wounds, but that smoldering heat that simmered in your belly flared into a blistering ball of fire. You lifted your body, pulling his cock out until the swollen tip was left inside before sinking back down and grinding your clit against his pelvic bone.

Kyoujuro let out a groan as he slowly guided you up and down on his dick. He let go of your wounded hip to rub circles on your clit. “Baby girl...” he growled in my ear. “Your pussy feels so around my cock. Now, be a good fucking girl and cum for Daddy.” He still moved at that slow, deep, gentle space, being very careful to not hurt me as his fingers worked over your sensitive button. Your inner walls began to flutter and pulse against him as that ball of heat tigthened in your lower belly until it threatened to snap. “That’s it, Princess. Cum for me. Cum for your Daddy.”

Your head lolled back as your mouth opened in a series of incoherent cries. You bounced on his cock, moving a bit faster than the pace he had set, trying to speed the process of your orgasm. Your wounds were beginning to throb slightly, so you knew that you needed to hurry or they would reopen. “Ah~ Ah~ Ah~ Kyou, just like that. I’m so fucking close.” 

You clung to your husband desperately, grinding against his fingers as they worked over your clit. His name fell from your lips as a mantra as that heat tightened, coiling around until it finally snapped. Your release hit you so strongly, flooding out of you to drip down Kyojuro’s dick and balls, pooling in his lap.

He used your oragasm to go a bit more feral, pounding up into you as he felt his own release approaching. “Fuck, Princess. I’m going to cum. It’s okay for me to cum inside you, right? You want me to breed this cute little pussy, right?” His dirty talk made your walls flutter again as he struck that sweet spot repeatedly within you. His fingers still rubbed at your clit, the slickness from your orgasm aiding him. “You want it so deep inside, don’t you, my naughty spitfire.”

“Ah~ Yes, Kyou.” you cried. “I want it. Please, Daddy. Please let me have it.” you bounced against him, the friction causing another ball of heat to tighten in your belly and it quickly threatened to snap.  You felt him give one last deep thrust before his warm seed spilled into you and that cord snapped and your second orgasm left you dizzy and drunk on pleasure as you went limp in his arms. 

Kyoujuro gave a few more gentle pumps before his own body slumped slightly, arms caging you in his warmth. “I love you, Kyou. So much.” you whispered tiredly.

“I love you, too, my beautiful wife.” He sat up and pressed the softest, sweetest and most gente kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Can we stay like this for a while longer?”

A giggle left you as you  leaned up to kiss his lips. “Of course, my handsome husband.” You felt a small ache in your wounds and knew that the bandages would need to be changed soon, but you were not about to let that ruin snuggles with your love.

 You rolled your eyes when he asked for the umpteenth time if he had hurt you. You flicked his nose. “I told you repeatedly, You could never hurt me, Kyou!”

©️2022-23 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

#nymphomanic♡ #rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku x y/n #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #kyoujurou rengoku smut #rengoku smut #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kny x reader #kny smut

[blackopals-world]

Fem Onsen Owner!Yuu x Vil Schoenheit

Summary: Yuu runs a hotsping spa out of Ramshackle. She prides herself on her achievements but there is one problem. Vil Schoenheit believes he's above her spa treatments. She intends to kill with kindness.

PG-13 ( it's a little spicy)

Not edited, will do it later.

(Part 2)

It's a dog-eat-dog world. So Yuu put herself to the grindstone to make something for herself. She has a very specific set of skills from her homeland. Years of watching her grandparents run the onsen and learning traditional practices have gifted her with everything she needs to run a spa.

It took work. So much fucking work but she managed to make a dimensional space inside of Ramshackle to fill with what she needed.

Soon enough she was running a beautiful hot spring with a spa and small dining /entertainment hall.

Students paid to relax and enjoy the peonies and lotus garden that Yuu planted while snacks were served. Who didn't want to be pampered?

It didn't hurt that the lovely Miss Yuu would check on them while wearing beautiful yukatas and formal kimonos.

It was like going from school to vacation.

Yuu had to keep things above board and part of that was keeping the teachers from making moral objections about a girl running a bathhouse full of naked teenage boys and girls. That is why the teachers were given special vouchers to use the private bathhouse at their discretion. Yuu even kept a small selection of alcohol to be served with food for the adults. Teachers need a break too. (Crowley gets no vouchers.)

There was also the problem of Azul. Two business-minded students could lead to problems. So they struck a deal Azul gets free VIP access to spa amenities and food when he likes and he stays out of the way.

What does VIP status means....well...

When the onsen grew in popularity Yuu hired a few girls from Pomefiore and a few other dorms to work in the spa. Beautiful girls working as Oiran in kimonos drew in a crowd but special services mean big bucks. So, as the head lady, she needed to bring in important customers.

Private baths with services tailored to the customers' needs and personal care from Yuu herself. They would be pampered and spoiled rotten. Due to the amount of care these VIP services required, the slots were extremely limited and weren't offered to just everyone. If you didn't schedule in advance you weren't getting it.

Azul of course had his own slot for his seaweed wrap massage and his favorite sushi with Korean-style fried chicken. Yuu knows he's trying to steal the recipe though.

Leona has Ruggie calls in his ice bath and steam room reservation after every game. He sleeps like log after he eats anything.

Jamil comes in a dire state every so often for a deep tissue and jasmine tea. Yuu always gives him a full workup because he needs it. She's sure he'll die without it.(once he asked her to marry him while getting a hot rock massage and she never let him forget it.)

Rook adores his treatments. A rose petal bath with a serving of cherry blossom cakes as he gets the perfect view of the gardens. Cool rose water with a hint of sake made him gush endlessly about his day.

Yuu served all her friends with care and respect but she could never get the customers she truly wanted.

Vil Schoenheit

Of all the students and staff she had yet to gain his attention for her spa. If there was anyone whose praises would matter most it's his. But he's not interested.

"Why would I want to go there? I have a spa and masseur I go to already. It's cute really, and I admire your dedication but it's just not for me."

Yuu was still seething. How dare he! Cute! He called it cute! She was so much more than cute!

She would show him! Just wait!

That day came sooner than expected when one of the girls came to her with the new VIP schedule. It was the usual guests except for an emergency appointment for none other than Vil.

There was a cancelation from his regular spa and he had a fashion later in the week and he needed to be at his best. The situation was dire in Yuu's book. She would bring her A-game.

When Vil arrived Yuu was already front and center waiting in her best lilac kimono and golden hairpins. She had perfect make-up as he could see she lifted her head from her bow.

"Sorry, to take up your schedule. Your receptionist told me you cleared your day to make room for this." Vil was stressed from an unintended visit and didn't know what to expect from a place he's never trusted before.

"At least he has the sense to be apologetic." Yuu thought.

"There is no need to apologize Vil. This is an emergency and must be handled with the utmost care for your comfort." Yuu tried to make sure her smile remained docile and not wicked.

Yuu leads Vil to the private bath shower where he can clean up and put on his robe as Yuu finished prepping.

When he finished his shower and put on his robe he noticed that Yuu was still in the other room by the inset pool. She was waiting for him to get in.

"...are you going to be here the whole time." The word fell out of Vil's mouth before he could stop.

"How else to better serve you than to be at your beck and call." Yuu hummed in reply.

Vil felt a flash of heat go though his body. She could have used different words.

"Can't you at least pretend to be shy. I'm a man. At least acknowledge that." Vil thought as he sighed internally.

Vil didn't argue. If she wanted this then letting her get an eyeful was her choice. He took off the robe and lowered himself into the water with no shame. He was no stranger to being seen in undress, sometimes it was required for his work in scantily clad modeling jobs. Yuu must have been used to it too as she worked in a bathhouse. She had probably seen many of her personal clients in undress.

The thought of Yuu with another man in any state of undress made him irritated. Worse when he wondered if they had seen her in a similar way.

"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SAY THAT!" Yuu yelled at herself "You act like you've seen a man outside your fantasies! Now you just let Vil basically flash you!! You are a better then this!"

Vil was blissfully unaware of implosion he had caused in Yuu's mind.

Yuu got herself together as she checked the water temperature again as she kneeled.

Vil took in the garden through the floor-to-ceiling window before he noticed that the flowers in his bath were the same lotus flowers. Yuu must pick these straight from the garden. They had a unique smell, heady and fruity.

Yuu got up to grab something before returning to his side. A bottle of wine.

Vil raised an eyebrow but a glass of wine sounded perfect about now. Rook did say she served good drinks so there was no shame in partaking. He held out a hand to accept a glass she would no doubt serve.

Yuu shook her head and frowned.

"This wine is not for your lips. It serves another purpose." Yuu said as she tilted the bottle into the water.

The red liquid stained the steamy water and tainted the white flowers red.

"What the hell are you doing?" Vil was not amused by this little joke.

"Getting you ready for your show. Haven't you ever had a wine or champagne bath? Sure perfumes are nice but this is meant to sink into the skin to last for days with a subtle but defined scent. This is a special plum wine that doesn't stink of alcohol. It's a natural scent that will work better than an overpowering perfume."

As sure as she said the sweet smell of plum and lotus rose into the air. I was nice.

Next Yuu pulled out a second bottle of wine from an ice bucket and served that instead.

"This however is fit to drink. A light apricot wine to enjoy." Yuu said handing it to Vil.

Vil tooka sip and noted that it was pretty good. Sweet but not too sweet and left a tangy after taste.

Vil found himself loosing up.

Yuu began to tend to Vil's hair. It was soft and luxurious as it appeared, no split ends but that didn't mean she didn't need to work on it.

Gently she worked her comb through itand hands into his scalp. She made sure to work slowly as worked a well oiled brush though it.

"You know in my world, in the ancient times women of the imperial place brushed and combed their hair like this to make it grow. They were probably on to something since their hair would reach their ankles." Yuu hummed as she massaged Vil's scalp.

Vil heard but wasn't listening. He was in a place hard to reach. His head was resting on Yuu's lap, the hot water with intoxicating smell and the allure of wine, filled his senses. He was drowning and it felt amazing.

He felt a hand cup his cheek he stared up into Yuu's eyes.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me. We still have so much more to do." Yuu said it so softly and kindly Vil's heart stuttered.

This was dangerous. This is why he didn't want to come here. She was intoxicating.

He wanted more.

He wanted her.

Needed her.

Yuu on the other hand gazed far too long into Vil's amethyst eyes. His lips tinted red from either the wine or hot steam. She had tasted the wine many times but she wondered how it would taste from his tongue. Would it be as sweet or would it turn savory from his lips?

The steam must be getting to her. Her clothes felt sticky and clung uncomfortably to her skin.

There was a tap on the door as their thoughts ran wild. Reluctantly, Yuu stood up leaving Vil cold and desperate for her warm touch.

The girl from behind the door whispered an apology and notified Yuu of a problem in the kitchen.

Yuu sighed before looking over to Vil who had such a look of need and want.

"I'm sorry, I have to handle this. I leave you to soak for a bit before I get back and move on to the rest of your treatment."

Yuu quietly closed the door behind her as Vil sulked soaked.

He gravely remembered that next was the full body massage. He can barely handle her touching his hair let alone his body. He was doomed.

He wasn't a fool, he knew Rook canceled his original appointment. He knew that Rook was trying to make him jealous about his special spa days with Yuu. Yet, he still took the bait and came here. All just to get a taste of what everyone else has for himself.

He's going to become selfish. Needy. And worst of all desperate for her her. He can feel it.

Vil downed his glass of wine and drowned his sorrows. She's going to be the death of him.

~Hey! HEY! Look at me! No smut for you! I mean unless you want it.~

#twisted wonderland yuu #twst mc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #twst imagines #twst vil #vil shoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #vil smut #onsen!yuu

[alexiethymia]

excerpt from the next chapter of realization

Momo had always loved the snow. 

She loved how the world would suddenly be covered in a pristine white blanket when it snowed in Jurinan, the delicate and beautiful snowflakes, and most importantly, she loved diving into it, spreading her arms wide as she looked up at the vast, cloudless sky. 

“Stupid bedwetter, get inside already. Don’t blame me if you get a cold because you were playing around hardly wearing anything.”

Momo half-turned to face her childhood friend and grinned. She called back cheerfully, “You know I hardly get sick, Shiro-chan!” 

Shiro-chan scoffed. “That’s because idiots don’t get colds.” 

“Mou,” she pouted. Really, Shiro-chan could be a bit mean sometimes. And anyway, he wasn’t one to talk. At least Momo was wearing her hanten, scarf, and waraji. Shiro-chan was only wearing a scarf baa-san wound tightly around him, thrice around his small neck as if it would be enough protection since he’d ventured out in only his yukata and geta. 

Neither she nor Shiro-chan were really affected by the cold the way other people were. That was why even in the coldest of gales where their breaths would come out of wisps, they could still go out and play while the other children and adults stayed inside. Shiro-chan was already cold although Momo was careful not to say it out loud lest she hurt him. Not that he would let it show. He’d just shrug but Momo would know anyway. 

What she means though is that Shiro-chan’s touch was just a touch cooler than anyone else’s. On one of those rare times she’d been sick, Shiro-chan had hesitated before putting his hand on her forehead. She’d gasped and he’d snatched his hand away as if she’d burned him, but she’d hastily grabbed his arm to keep his hand on her head. She sighed in relief. It was better than the wet cloth that had been used to cool her down. Shiro-chan’s touch was like a drop of spring water. 

Momo loved summers, the watermelons and the fireworks all, but although she didn’t hate the heat as much as Shiro-chan, she had a habit of hugging him close during the hottest days. It was only a short relief though because he’d immediately scramble out of her grasp. 

“Idiot! It’s already hot. And you especially, make it even hotter.” 

She pouted. It wasn’t Momo’s fault her natural temperature ran higher than most. 

“I’ll return the favor,” she promised, “You can hug me too when it gets colder in winter!”

She must have held onto him longer than she thought for she noticed him burning up and sweating, before once again spewing insults and shouting that he wouldn’t since he didn’t get cold anyway. 

But sometimes he’d get her some shaved ice when the heat got so bad that she could only lie down, and when she sat nearer than usual while they ate watermelon, he’d grumble silently but didn’t push her away. 

He never took her up on her offer though, only consenting when baa-san was between them and the both of them would huddle on either side of her, sometime with a blanket over the three of them. 

Momo loved the snow because she thought it was perfect for her. If Shiro-chan didn’t get cold, Momo only felt warm lying down in the snow. It was perhaps strange that something so cold could feel so warm to her, it was like she was enveloped in an endless blanket. She felt safe and protected. 

It was also why she couldn’t help but keep on ruffling Shiro-chan’s hair even as he scowled and told her to cut it out. She’d been expecting that his hair would be spiky like a lion’s mane or an angry hedgehog, but his hair had been the softest thing that she’d ever touched. He hated its color because it set him apart from everyone else, but Momo had always thought that that was what made it beautiful. 

Perhaps touched with a burst of impatience, Shiro-chan drew nearer to where she was lying down and making wide arcs with her arms and legs. “What the heck are you doing anyway?”

She smiled brightly at him as she answered, “Snow angels!”

From her place below, she could him raise a brow in confusion. Nonplussed, she mused, “I wonder if shinigami-san are like angels. I mean they save souls and bring them to Soul Society after all.” 

Shiro-chan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, one over the other. “They’re death gods. They don’t save anyone, and this isn’t heaven.”

Momo only smiled at him, as he looked back at her confused. What she wouldn’t tell him was that even if this wasn’t heaven, she found him or perhaps would it be better to say that he found her? Either way, it was good enough for her. She says instead, “Maybe you’re right. Shinigami-san are black and angels are white. Shinigami-san also don’t have wings and you can’t be an angel without wings,” she nodded decisively before laughing light and free at the look of exasperation on Shiro-chan’s face.  

Before he could say anymore though, she pulls him into the snow with her. Spluttering, he looks mad as he glares at her before smirking and launching a snowball into her unsuspecting face. 

That past conversation drifts in and out across the years as that little boy who had shot snowballs at her eventually grew to become a shinigami captain, cloaked in white and valiant wings of ice gliding and slicing across the cloudless sky. 

She’s lying down once more, but this time she’s battered and broken, as she stares up at the sky. It’s snowing once again, but this time he’s the one making it snow and bloom deadly flowers. 

It’s beautiful.

Suddenly she’s in his arms and though she feels mind-numbingly cold, the kind that freezes her blood (she’s never felt this cold before), all she sees is breaking wings (in time with her heart). In the dimming light, she spies snowflakes in his eyes but they do not fall. 

Dazedly, she wants to ask, ‘Angel-san, why are you crying?’, but the shadows overcome the light and she is no more. 

Another scene, another image, and she is once again in his arms after being thrown about like a ragdoll in the wind. She is there, safe and secure, as Hitsugaya-kun slows down their fall with the even tempo of his wings. 

“Hinamori, are you alright?”

In reply, she smiles, and only draws closer seeking warmth. 

“I’m fine. Thank you, Shiro-chan.”

#hitsuhina #hinamori momo #hitsugaya toshiro #bleach #hitsuhina fanfic #hitsuhina fic #bleach fanfic #bleach fic #fanfic #fic #realization #ramblings about bleach #ramblings about hitsuhina #punts this off into the void to give me motivation to finish the next chapter

[ughzui]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬.

tengen uzui x fem!reader | 3.1k words | minors do not interact

content warnings: loss of virginity, slight corruption kink, daddy kink, fingering, slight size kink, breeding kink, creampie,

author’s note: my tengen brainrot is absolutely atrocious. off the charts. mind boggling. i love him so much. there will be a second and perhaps third part to this. big thank you to @cherrykamado for beta’ing this for me!! <3

networks: @knyplaymatemansion

Swirls of steam curled off of the surface of the water, slowly drifting upwards towards the night sky. Tengen sank lower in the water, allowing his shoulders to submerge and relax under the soothing heat of the spring. The mission had been long and strenuous, weeks of careful consideration and following a demon that had been going after young girls. It felt like forever before he’d been able to safely corner it and dispose of it. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, enjoying the calm atmosphere of the moment. Soft rustling drew him out of his peace as he cracked an eye open to see what the disturbance had been.

You stood there like a deer in a hunter’s sight, frozen and eyes wide. “My apologies! I didn’t realize anyone was out here at this time of night,” you spoke frantically, quickly clapping a hand over your eyes to block him from view.

A low laugh rumbled in his chest at your reaction to his presence. He recognized you quickly, the corps member who’d accompanied him on his most recent mission. You’d been a great help, very eager to learn from him and extremely obedient with the orders he’d given you. He’d taken a liking to you very quickly.

“Don’t apologize. Join me, you deserve it. You worked hard too.”

The offer was nice, but you weren’t sure what to say. Wouldn’t it be inappropriate to intrude on a superior in that way? But then again, he’d told you to. “Alright. Thank you.”

Slightly nervous fingers untied your yukata before slipping it off and folding it neatly. You set it on a stool before stepping into the hot spring. Tengen shifted over, making space for you to sit comfortably across from him. The high heat of the water was the exact thing you needed to soothe the exhaustion in your overworked muscles.

“Do you have another mission or are they giving you a break before they throw you back out?” he asked, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

You shrugged, already feeling the relaxing effects coming over you. “They haven’t given me anything yet. Maybe I’ll get a day or two.”

He nodded, understanding the sentiment quite well. “What rank are you now? Kinoe?”

You sighed. “Not yet. Maybe within the year, I hope. I’m still Kinoto.”

“That’s still impressive. You’re still young. Lots of improvement can still be made. You’ve climbed the ranks quickly. It’s admirable.”

Humming in agreement, you glanced at him. “Were you still young when you became a hashira? You’re still pretty young aren’t you?”

“I was. And I am. Lots of living left ahead of me.”

You always thought the hashira were the most impressive group of individuals in Japan, and likely on the planet. They exhibited strength and talent that everyone and everything paled in comparison to. It had been a goal of yours at first, but it still seemed far out of reach.

“You look tense. Are you sore?”

His words distracted you from your thoughts, leaving you speechless for a moment.

“What?”

Tengen grinned. “You’re holding tension in your body. Are you sore? I know that last fight was tough. Come here.” He gestured towards himself, moving just enough that you could tell he parted his thighs and was inviting you to sit between them.

Embarrassment made heat creep up to your cheeks. “Nono, I’m fine. It’s okay, don’t worry about me.” He was absolutely correct. Your shoulders and back ached more than they ever had after a mission. But how were you supposed to let your superior put his hands on you like that? Especially when you were both undressed.

“You were my mission partner for a month. I’m supposed to worry about you a little bit. Now come here.”

He nodded when you scooted closer, his hands encircling your biceps to drag you fully between his thighs. He ignored your squeak of protest as he slid his hands up to his shoulders, fingers kneading skillfully at your back. A relaxed sigh left your parted lips, your head falling forward to give him more access.

“Will you go see your family while you have some time off?” he asked, trailing his hands to the center of your back.

“No. They’ve moved out to the country and it’s too far. I won’t have any time to see them and come ba- Oh god!” Your hands flew to grip at his thighs, your nails digging into his skin. He’d focused his touch on a particularly sensitive knot in your back, leaving you stunned and shaky.

“Right there, hmm?” he hummed, continuing the gentle circles against your spine.

You could only nod, your grip still tensed on his muscular thighs. Each drag of his touch pulled tiny whimpers and gasps out of you. It was too much and just enough at the same time, the pain slowly dissipating from your muscles.

Tengen leaned close to you. So close that you could feel his breath ghost against the shell of your ear when he spoke. “You’re so noisy. How’re you feeling now?” he murmured, his hands slowly sliding to rest at the bottom of your spine.

“Much better. I don’t even hurt anymore,” you sighed, rolling your shoulders back to test the full effects of his talented fingers.

His touch lingered on the small of your back for a moment before he dragged his hands up your sides. “You know, you sounded so lewd just from me touching you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It just felt so nice.”

He clicked his tongue. “Don’t apologize. See, I’d like to hear you actually make those noises for me.” He pressed his chest into your back, fingertips ghosting ever so lightly over your hips.

“W-what? But your wives,” you stuttered, gasping as he pressed his lips against the back of your neck.

“They’re well aware of the things I want to do with you. My letters to them were well received during our mission.” He pressed his hand flat against your belly, holding you still as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “There’s a certain… Openness in our relationship. So what do you say? Do you want me to make you feel good?”

A mixture of emotions swirled in your mind as he spoke. You could feel his steady heartbeat against your back as he placed yet another kiss against your heated skin. “Yes.” That was all you could muster as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes what? Use your words. I don’t like meek little girls,” he chastised. He knew full well what you meant, but drawing more out of you was more fun.

“Yes, I want you to make me feel good. Please.”

Before you could take a breath, his teeth were nipping against your sensitive skin and his fingers were sliding further south until they rested at the apex of your thighs. You parted your legs, allowing him to run a finger between your folds. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling, your hand coming to rest over his much larger one.

“Are you nervous? Don’t be. I’ll take care of you.”

“No one’s ever… I’ve never…” Each time you started, you couldn’t seem to finish your sentence.

“Don’t worry. I'll be gentle.”

Deft fingers drew tiny circles over your clit, sending jolts of electricity through your body. His free hand held you tightly, keeping you from squirming too hard against him. You inhaled sharply when he pressed his finger into your hole, the slight sting taking you aback. He moved slowly, stroking your sensitive walls with the calloused pad of his finger. It made you dizzy; the sensation completely foreign and overwhelming.

Before long , the hazy pleasure was the only thing you could focus your mind in. Tengen was rhythmic, pumping his thick digit in and out in a perfectly steady pattern. Once he was sure you were comfortable, he curled it upwards, catching and pressing hard against your g-spot. Your yelp of shock made a Cheshire grin spread across his face.

“How’s that, little one?” he crooned, letting your waist go so that he could toy with your clit at the same time.

“So so good,” you whined, rocking your hips forward into his touch.

His lips were back against your neck, sucking a constellation of blemishes into your skin. The intrusion of a second finger sent you reeling, your walls clamping erratically around them as he scissored them to stretch you even further.

You cried out sharply, head falling back against his shoulder as the tension in your belly tightened. “U-Uzui I think I’m close,” you whispered, eyes shut tight as you essentially rode his hand.

“Call me Tengen, sweetheart. And I know you are, you’re squeezing me so tight. Just relax and let go, pretty girl,” he coached, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

His words made you giddy, your heart skipping a beat. He was just so charismatic, and you knew he wasn’t even trying at all. You had to admit he had always flustered you a bit, especially during your missions. He was so guiding despite being so bold and brash. His company was one that you’d grown used to and comfortable with.

His chin rested on your shoulder, the perfect position for him to bite at the tender skin. He pinched your clit gently, toying with the swollen bundle of nerves. You cried out, belly dipping as you sucked in a deep breath to try to keep yourself composed. If not for the buffer of the water, the wet slick sound of your cunt around his fingers would be nearly overwhelming. You could feel yourself gush arousal  with each deep thrust of his fingers.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around his wrist as you slipped even deeper into ecstasy. His unrelenting actions became unbearable as you hit your peak, shaky begs of his name spilling from your mouth as you came undone on his fingers. You heard a faint “there you go” over the bloodrush in your ears, your hips shivering and stuttering as you chased even more contact from the large man below you.

He came to a slow stop and shifted you out of his lap. Quickly noticing your confusion, he cupped your cheek in his palm. “Don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m just gonna take you inside. I’m not deflowering you in an onsen.”

Tengen pulled you to straddle his lap, your chest against his as he fit his hand under your knees before rising to his feet. Almost immediately, you locked your ankles around his waist, terrified that you would fall.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” One hand slid to rest under your ass while the other splayed against your back.

He made quick work of getting inside and situated, laying you gently upon the tatami mat covered floor. His large figure loomed over yours, broad chest and shoulders dwarfing you under him. He nudged your legs open with his knee and settled between them, his hips resting against your own as he leaned forward to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

Your hands flew to rest on his chest, fingernails digging into his tanned skin. He groaned into your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Gasping at the feeling, your lips parted to grant him access. He slid his tongue against yours, enjoying the soft pleasure-filled sigh he drew out of you. He was intoxicating; your head spinning like you’d been drinking for hours.

“Tengen please, it hurts,” you breathed, the desperate ache between your thighs becoming unbearable. “I need you.”

He growled lowly, eyes squeezing shut at your coy request. Who was he to deny you that? Running a hand through his hair, he sat back on his heels and stared down at you. He could feel his mouth water at the sight: your breasts heaving with each deep breath and your perfect cunt dripping in anticipation for him. It was almost too good to be true. He grabbed your hips, manhandling you so that his cock was situated between your slick folds.

His length was hot and heavy laying right against your sensitive clit. He rolled his hips, grinding it against where you needed him the most. Before you could even open your mouth to protest his teasing and beg for more, he pressed the fat tip against your hole before slowly easing it inside. You saw stars, back arching and hands scrabbling at the floor below you. He was rough but painfully slow, taking his sweet time bullying his thick cock into your virgin cunt.

Your mewls were like music to his ears, lewdly sweet and desperate. Tengen gripped tightly at your waist, holding you still as he split your gummy walls with the impressive girth of his shaft. Hands flying to his shoulders, you threw your head back in bliss as he bottomed out in you. He was so deep, so thick, filling you just perfectly.

“How're you doing, sweetheart?” he asks, thrusting shallowly into you.

“Good. So good,” you squeaked, writhing as his pace began to pick up.

He grinned down at you, canines glinting under the dim light of the room. “Perfect.”

With that, he settled on a brutal pace, one that had you gasping and trembling under him. It was so cruel; the way he stretched your tiny hole around his massive cock would surely ruin you for any other man. No other man could ever treat you the way he could. You’d come crawling back to him every time, begging him to make you feel so good compared to what those pathetic useless men could do.

His lips were back on yours, tongue hastily gliding against your own. He swallowed down your moans and whines, grunting as he crashed his hips into yours. Tengen was in a daze, the only things he could focus on being the way your warm cunt squeezed him and the way the sweet taste of you on his tongue made him dizzy.

He pulled away, giving you a moment to catch your breath as he reached down with one hand to run a circle on your swollen clit. You panted like a bitch in heat, tongue lolling out as ecstasy built up in your abdomen. Warbles of his name and ‘please’ fell from your mouth, tears pricking your lash line as your orgasm approached rapidly. Tengen could see it in your eyes, prompting him to angle his hips to reach deeper into you.

“Ohh god! F-fuck! I’m gonna..!” Your voice cracked as you gasped, legs shaking and toes curling as the heat in your belly raged to an inferno. “Oh fuck ‘m cumming! Daddy I’m- Shit!” Your mouth fell open into an ‘o’ shape as the tension snapped, your pussy spasming around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He grunted, watching the way a creamy ring of white built around his base with each thrust into your soaked cunt. The gush of your orgasm had made a mess of both his and your thighs, only adding to the wet smack of his balls against your ass. Your face of pure bliss was burned into his brain, his heart racing as the sweet sound of your voice calling him daddy played on a loop in his head.

That set something alight in him, chest burning as he quickened his pace. Your body lurched, prompting him to loop his arm under your waist and hold you tighter.

“Takin’ Daddy’s cock so well,” he moaned, pressing sloppy kisses along your jaw. “Such a good girl. You’re doing so fucking good for me.”

Your nails dragged thin lines of red into his skin, making him gasp in pain and pleasure. He bent lower over you, holding you chest to chest with him as he fucked hard into you. Your moans were muffled against his shoulder, eyes rolling back as the now familiar feeling of your approaching orgasm washed over you. If you’d known better, you would’ve been able to tell he was close as well.

Tengen’s hips stuttered, his pace becoming sloppier as his own pleasure began to overwhelm him. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, the rhythm as fast and erratic as your own. It was so intimate; he could feel every inch of your body and you could feel every inch of his own.

“I think I’m gonna cum again,” you whispered, letting your eyes slip closed in relief as he pummeled the head of his cock into your g-spot. “Tengen! Daddy! Shit!”

He gasped sharply, moaning wantonly at the way your walls squeezed around him. Fuck, you were close again. It was impressive, your resolve was quite outstanding to him. Your first time, yet you were able to come undone around him multiple times. It made something primal bubble up in his chest. He needed you. He needed to keep you around. You needed to be his.

“Cum for me, sweet girl. Let Daddy know how good he makes you feel,” he rasped, trying to keep in control.

You whined, shaking your head slightly. “Cum with me please. Wanna feel you fill me up. Please Daddy. Wanna be yours. Make me yours,” you plead, tears streaking your cheeks and dampening his already sweaty skin.

That sent him over the edge, his thrusts speeding up as he chased his release. You came first, back arching and eyes rolled back as you unraveled in his arms. Your shattered sobs and his greedy moans filled the air with a symphony of ecstasy. Tengen came with a low groan, hips pressed flush against yours as he flooded your womb with his hot, sticky cum. Your cunt milked him for everything he was worth, sucking him in and creaming prettily around him.

The two of you clung to each other as you came down from your highs, hands desperately holding anything they could reach. You caught your breath slowly, heart still pounding as you opened your eyes to look up at him. His cheeks were pink and his pupils were still blown. He loosened his grip for a moment, reaching up to brush the tears from your cheeks. His fingers traced along your jaw, cradling your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You did so well,” he murmured, slowly sitting up and pulling you with him.

Your legs stayed draped over his hips, bodies flush against each other as he rubbed soothing circles against your back. You were exhausted, but you wouldn’t have changed any moment of the past few hours.

“Thank you,” you said, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

Tengen smiled softly and kissed the top of your head gently. “I’ll take you with me to my estate. You can meet my wives.”

Nodding at his words, you shifted to glance up at him. “That sounds pleasant,” you hummed, returning the smile.

“Oh it will be. They’ll want to have their turn with you too.”

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #tengen uzui x reader #tengen uzui smut #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba smut #uzui tengen x reader #uzui tengen smut #cw.virginity loss #cw.corruption #cw.daddy kink #cw.size kink #cw.breeding kink #cw.creampie #wren writes #pmbunny🐰

[tamayosclinic]

Ah congrats on 100+ followers. I just found your account and I absolutely love your work! I was wondering if you could do prompt #3 with sub!reader x dom!shinobu? Thank you! And congrats again. I can’t wait to read the rest of the prompts

"Move an inch and you won't be coming tonight." | Dom!Shinobu x Sub!Reader

Warning(s): Smut, MINORS DNI, Binding, Grinding, Mommy kink, Vaginal Fingering

Author's Note(s): Reader will learn the consequence of calling Shinobu short here, cuz she definitely doesn't tolerate that even if it the truth. Enjoy.

Word Count: 755

100+ Followers Event [Closed]

Shinobu hummed in satisfaction at her job well done. It was just as she envisioned it, and the fun was only just beginning. (Y/n) laid on their back, hands bound to a strap around their stomach and legs tied to either side of the bed, so they were spread out.

(Y/n) blushed at Shinobu’s adoring gaze. “Are you gonna keep staring, or are you gonna come here and have fun?”

“Ara, I don’t recall letting you call the shots,” Shinobu snickered and delivered a smack to (Y/n) ’s thigh. “Remember, I’m the mommy here.”

“Sorry, mommy,” (Y/n) moaned out an apology, shivering at the shockwave traveling up their spine. They tried to reach for her, but Shinobu purposefully stayed out of reach from their chained hands. “Mommy, take me, please.”

Shinobu giggled under her breath and drew closer. At least (Y/n) pleaded; might as well give them what they want. She sat on (Y/n) ’s lap and slowly laid atop them, guiding their hands to one of her breasts to fondle while she kissed them deeply.

Shinobu grinds herself against (Y/n) ’s privates while they knead her breasts interchangeably, still kissing deeply. (Y/n) grumbles as they realize how restricting the binds are. They attempted to finger Shinobu’s slit, but their bound hands couldn’t reach lower than her stomach. Shinobu smirked against the kiss. She had purposefully adjusted the binds to keep certain parts out of reach as long as she wanted.

If I can just get her to move up, I should reach her. An idea popped into (Y/n) ’s mind, “Mommy, can I suck your tits,” They pleaded.

Shinobu hummed, pretending to actually think about it. Yet, the glow in her eyes gave away that she had already made up her mind. Wordlessly, she scooted up so that her chest was within reach of (Y/n) ’s mouth. Instead of going for her breasts, (Y/n) grazed a couple fingers up her slit gathering a strip of her essence.

Shinobu gasped in shock and pleasure. She wanted to pull away, but her limbs melted into place as (Y/n) inserted their fingers in her. “H-How? I was sure I tightened the binds enough.”

“You did. You’re just so sho- reachable now!” (Y/n) corrected themselves. Veins popped out of Shinobu’s face indicating she knew what they meant to say. “I’m sorry, mommy! I’m so sorry!”

Shinobu was off of (Y/n) in a millisecond and getting dressed in a yukata. “You have been naughty tonight. I don’t think you deserve to cum.”

“Please let me make it up to you, mommy. I will do anything,” (Y/n) begged and wriggled around in hopes of somehow getting loose, yet the binds didn’t budge. Shinobu was now dressed in a yukata and about to let (Y/n) loose when…

“Caw!” Shinobu’s crow got her attention from outside the window. It went wide-eyed when it got a good look at the activity in the bedroom. “Mission! Mission!”

(Y/n) gulped at the wicked smile gracing Shinobu’s face though it was back to that placid smile when she looked at them. “You want to make it up to me, right?”

(Y/n)’ s eyes sparkled at the question. They nodded, “Yes, mommy.”

“Then heed my words,” Shinobu loomed over them. She knew (Y/n) could probably use total concentration breathing to break free and had to shut it down asap. “Move an inch, and you won’t be coming tonight.”

“But you’re going out.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ll be back later tonight,” Shinobu vowed, bending down in front of (Y/n). They caught sight of her soaked panties before they disappeared beneath her uniform pants. “Lay still and don’t go anywhere.”

As if I had a choice, (Y/n) thought but did not dare say it to Shinobu. Their bigmouth nearly cut their night short. It was best not to ruin the opportunity to make it right. Plus, there was a more pressing matter to tend to. “The girls might walk in.”

Shinobu had draped her haori on and strapped her katana to her side by this point. She cracked the shoji enough for her to slip past, “I’ll come sure they don’t come in under any circumstance. In the meantime, you should use this time to reflect on your language. Goodbye~.”

And just like that, Shinobu was out and (Y/n) was still bound to the bed and exposed. The mental countdown in their head started. Even seconds seemed to pass teasingly slow. In the emptiness, only one thought passed through (Y/n) ’s mind: Shinobu is a teasingly wicked mommy.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #shinobu kocho #shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kny smut

[tothemeadow]

Can I request a uzui x shy reader where reader is his fourth wife but she feels left out a lot so she distance and avoid Tengen and her co-wives. When reader comes home one day she surprised to find uzui home by himself because he was meant to be out with the others and she was going to try avoid him again but as he wants an answer to why shes acting the way she is and turns into a smut in the end? :>

Did I get carried away with this? Maybe. Could I have written more? Absolutely. But I have to practice self-control.

‘i want to be part of your constellation’ / Uzui T. x Reader

warnings: NSFW, cunnilingus, Tengen’s fat tiddies

words: 2,492

-

Sometimes, being a Pillar’s wife is hard. They’re constantly away, fighting battles and saving lives; there’s always that lingering chance that they may never come back. It’s a dangerous life, but a respectful one nonetheless.

This is what drew you to Tengen in the first place – despite his brash, asshole attitude, he’s selfless. It was during an attack at your parents’ farm when you first met him; appearing like a night in shining armor, he rescued you from a bloodhungry demon, his movements powerful yet graceful all at once. As a thank you, your parents offered your hand in marriage to the handsome stranger. Surprisingly, Tengen agreed, but it wasn’t like you were going to deny marrying someone of his status and exquisite looks.

However, you didn’t know about the other women in Tengen’s life. As you quickly found out, he had three other wives, all of who he met while in the shinobi forces. Of course, you weren’t a fighter like them, nor did you have that close relationship from sharing the same background. No, you were the docile one of the group, the one meant to take care of the home while the others went to fight demons and the like.

Even two years later, things haven’t changed. You love Tengen, and the other girls are basically your best friends, but the chasm separating you from them couldn’t be more evident. Sure, you’re part of the “family,” but it doesn’t necessarily feel like it. You’re the quiet one, the one that keeps to themselves, the one who’s in charge of a happy homelife. And so you distance yourself from everyone else, stick to the sidelines while they’re out saving the world.

Granted, you’re used to this lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt. If only you’d been a shinobi or a slayer, things would be different. You’d know what the life is like, the feel of a blade as it passes through a demon’s neck. But no, you’re always stuck with carrying a pouch of wisteria on your body to keep yourself safe. At this point, you don’t whether Tengen makes you keep it because he wants you to be safe or because he views it as his obligation.

With a sigh, you turn towards the sky, the endless blue a clear difference to your bitter gray mood. The tote hanging from your shoulder is heavy with fruits and vegetables from the market, but you’re excited with the possibilities of all the tasty meals you could create. Even though you can’t fight to save others, you can feed them; you also know for a fact that you’re the best cook among you co-wives.

When you return home, you slip off your setta and pause, listening to the familiar silence. Like usual, the others are away, most likely fighting off some lowly criminal or preparing for a battle against a demon. Either way, it seems like you’re going to be spending the majority of the day by yourself. It’s sad that this is what life has come to; when you first married Tengen, you were hoping for more excitement, not lonely thoughts. You don’t want to come off desperate, though, so you continue to remain to yourself. At the end of the day, it’s not that big of a deal – that’s just life.

Wandering towards the kitchen, you become caught up in these thoughts, these negative feelings. You don’t want to make yourself cry – you really don’t – but your heart is saying otherwise. All you want is to belong. You want to mean something to this family, not be the impromptu mother waiting for her rambunctious children to come home. You become so lost in your head that you fail to see him standing in the kitchen, lips wrapped around a ceramic cup.

Coming to sudden stop at the threshold, your attention jumps back to the present. Tengen merely sends you an amused look over the rim of his cup before he knocks his head back and empties its contents. Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be with the others? He said he wasn’t going to home for a while! Did something happen? Are the others okay? Why-?

“You’ve got that dumb look on your face again,” Tengen teases. “Stop thinking so much.”

Huffing, you step into the kitchen, drawing the tote off your shoulder and setting it down. “You surprised me, that’s all. I thought you were busy.”

“What, am I not allowed in my own home? That’s kind of cruel, don’t you think?” The smirk he flashes you sends a pleasant shiver up your spine.

“I never said that,” you hastily respond. Your eyes scan over his Corps uniform. You’re quickly finding yourself feel bad for taking up his time when he’s bound to be busy; Pillars have the toughest jobs of them all, and every single moment is precious. “You’re usually never this home early,” you mutter. A sigh slips through your lips. “…I should… uh, I need to do laundry.” You despise how pathetic you sound, but the knowing look in Tengen’s eyes is making your nerves go haywire.

Stepping away, you prepare yourself to leave, but Tengen moves way too fast for your eye to catch. Before you’re out the door, his hand is around your wrist, spinning your around and tugging him towards his chest. You yelp as you collide with solid muscle; wrapping his meaty arms around you, Tengen holds you close, his nose buried in your hair.

“Don’t act like I haven’t noticed you moping around more than usual,” he mutters. Pressed to him like this, you can hear his heart thumping steadily in his chest. “It’s not flamboyant of me to ignore what’s bothering you.”

“Tengen-“

“Let me finish,” he interrupts, but his voice is soft. “I want you to be honest with me. Are you lonely?”

At that, your heart drops to your stomach. You haven’t been that obvious, have you? Jaw falling agape, you’re desperate for words, to tell him no, you’re fine, but nothing wants to come out. Tengen releases a sorrowful sigh and pulls away just enough so that you two are looking eye-to-eye. He’s always been huge, standing tall and broad; in moments like these, the sheer size of him is more than intimidating. His biceps alone could crack a watermelon.

“Idiot,” he mumbles. Your face scrunches up when he flicks your forehead. “I shouldn’t have to confront you about something like this.”

You pout up at him. “It’s just… I’m not like you guys,” you confess. “I can’t fight, I can’t defend myself… All I’m good at is being a homemaker.” You drop your gaze to his chest. Now that you’re finally getting everything off your chest, all the pent of thoughts and feelings begin to gush out. “I feel like an outsider most of the time. You and the other girls are always running around together and doing amazing things. All I do is sit around and do chores. I can’t…” Biting your lip, you squeeze your eyes shut. Now is not the time to be crying. If you want things to change, you have to remain strong, not burst into tears.

A hand cups your face, then, lifting your head so that you’re forced to look at Tengen. “Be quiet. So what if you’re not a fighter? That doesn’t make you any less flamboyant.” His thumb brushes over your cheek. “You’re the one I can rely on to be here when I need someone. You always get this dumb smile on your face whenever I come home from a mission.” Dropping his head down, he presses his forehead to yours. “I know you’re safe here… Do you have any idea how scared I would be if you were out in the field with us? You’re important to me, baby. When I’m not here, you’re on my mind constantly.”

Your heartbeat quickens. You can’t deny the genuine glint in his dazzling eyes, the slight curl to his lips.

“In fact,” Tengen continues, pulling away entirely. In a swift movement, his large hands are clutching your thighs, raising you up and swinging you around; you let out a surprised squeak as he places you on the table and presses his large body between your legs. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve always been so soft, so sweet…” His warm breath fans over your face, making you swallow thickly. “And you’re so small. I’ve got to keep someone like you under protection, don’t you think?”

Before you really have the chance to say anything, Tengen swoops in, his mouth seeking out yours. He’s always been such a bold kisser, sweeping his tongue into your mouth with no hesitation whatsoever. He tastes like wine, so rich and delectable, and his tongue is so warm, so inviting. Your head is spinning, your breaths leaving in short gasps. His hands are all over you; gripping your hair, trailing down your back, sneaking underneath your yukata-

A groan bursts from your throat as he fondles your breasts, the pads of his fingers rolling the hardened nipples and pulling them. Tengen curses as he breaks the kiss, the lightest of blushes on his face. He bites his plump lower lip as he shamelessly plays with you, his pupils blown wide. His hips press in close, his groin bumping into yours; he’s already hard, deliciously so, and your mind goes entirely blank. You want nothing more than his cock to slide in, to absolutely tear you apart.

“You feel that, baby?” Tengen husks. “Don’t think your unimportant to me. You’re so fucking sexy, so flamboyant…” His tongue darts out, sweeps over his lips. “Let me make it up to you. You won’t feel lonely anymore, got it?”

Furiously nodding your head, you allow Tengen to yank open your yukata, revealing soft skin. Your eyelids flutter as he places his mouth to the exposed flesh, his lips and tongue equally hot. Chest rising frantically beneath his touch, you grip onto him for support as he kisses your breasts, his tongue dragging across your nipples. You keen as he promptly sucks it into his mouth, his teeth sinking down lightly as his hands unceremoniously rip your underwear from your trembling form.

“Oh, gods, Tengen,” you purr. “Please… Don’t stop…”

“Wouldn’t dream about it,” Tengen drawls. Sinking to his knees, his mouth leaves a wet trail down your body; there’s bound to be marks, you’re sure of it, but you don’t care. His mouth feels way too heavenly yet sinful, the pleasured grunts pouring from his lips pure music to your ears. “Give me a taste…”

You cry out when he licks against your slit. In a fit of desperation, your fingers clutch onto the silvery strands of his hair, accidentally loosening it from its ponytail. Tengen groans into your quivering pussy as you yank at his hair, his name leaving your lips in high-pitched whimpers. Any other time, Tengen would play the part of the ultimate tease, but not now. No, he wants to please you, to have you screaming his name and begging for more.

He eats like a man starved, his mouth just ravishing your cunt; the noises coming from in between your legs is nothing short of sinful, leaves your blood boiling. Your velvety walls clench around his protruding tongue, each curl and flick sending delicious shivers up your spine, down to the tips of your fingers and toes. Tengen’s always been a god with his mouth, and it’s no wonder how he has four wives. You try not to think about the other girls too much; it’s quickly turning into a battle that you’re hopelessly losing, but then Tengen moves to suckle on your clit while his fingers replace his tongue.

A sharp cry rips its way out of your chest. It feels so good. “Ah – Tengen – fuck,” you whine. Hearing the pleasured noises from your beautiful lips spurs him on; redoubling his efforts, Tengen grabs onto your hip as his fingers push in even further, finding your soft spot with pin-point precision. You rapidly come undone around his fingers, your walls clenching around him as your slick gushes out. A breathless moan of his name echoes throughout the room.

“Just as sweet as I remember,” Tengen husks. The deep rasp of his voice has you clenching again; with a chuckle, Tengen removes his hand and stands up.

“I want you,” you coo, “please, Tengen. Fuck me.” Reaching out, you hastily undo the top of his uniform, push the articles of clothing down his shoulders under his torso is completely bare. Tengen’s chest practically rumbles with a purr as you drift your hands over the swell of his pecs, the divots of his abs. “So gorgeous,” you murmur. Tengen starts to chuckle again, but it quickly dwindles into pleasured grunts as you squeeze his pectorals and pinch at his pert nipples.

“Shit,” Tengen hisses. His hips buck forward, the hard outline of his cock brushing against your sopping cunt. In quick, fumbling movements, he undoes his belt and drops his hakama low enough so that his cock pops out. You practically drool at the sight; he’s been going around commando all day, and fuck you wish you knew that earlier.

His bulbous head pushes inside, his cock slowly filling you up. The stretch is delicious; you feel so fucking full, your velvety walls eagerly sucking him in. Clutching onto his shoulders, your fingernails dig into the thick cording of muscle, your eyes basically rolling back in your head as Tengen snaps his hips forward, his cock sliding in to the hilt. He pauses for a second, allows you to adjust to his massive size. Once you give him the go ahead, all caution is thrown to the wind.

Your husband in no longer a man, but rather a savage beast. He fucks into you thoroughly, his cock dragging against all your sensitive spots as his cockhead pounds into your cervix. He’s hitting you so deep, stretching you so wide, you’re seeing stars. His lips find your neck while his hands hold you by the ass, keeping you place. You have no choice but to cry out his name, moaning until your throat goes hoarse.

Hiking your thighs onto his hips, he urges you to lie flat on your back. Like this, he presses his palms against the surface of the table and completely concentrates and fucking you into oblivion. It’s working, rightfully so, for your drooling and babbling his name, your nails scratching down his back and leaving angry red trails.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he purrs. “Show you that you’re really mine. I love you, got it? Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Tears flood your vision – whether they’re from pleasure or the new onslaught of emotion, you don’t know. Either way, you cling onto him tighter. You’re not going anywhere, and Tengen makes sure of it.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #tengen uzui x reader #uzui tengen x reader #kny tengen #request

[thot-writes]

reposting since my accounts back! even added a couple more paragraphs. i’m startin a series of one-shots where various twinks get fucked w tentacles (not restricted to BNHA btw), but the first one is dabi! let me know if there’s anyone YOU’D like to tentacle fuck queens 💖

adventures in tentaculum: scene I — Dabi (18+ NSFW);

you were blessed with a quirk that allows you to spawn eight, tentacle-like tendrils from your back. they’re strong, fast, can extend up to 25 metres, and are able to secrete fluids to make them slick or sticky. while they look more ghostly than animal, they have suckers on the undersides much like an octopus.

Love is simply overrated.

You’ve always thought so.

The notion of dedicating your life to someone else, limiting your own freedom for a single person? It’s preposterous. You’ve encountered hundreds of people in your near three decades of life-- most of them strangers, some of them friends, few of them lovers.

None of them more.

It didn’t suit you. Not even the polyamorous route -- you could barely find one person worth your while, how were you supposed to find multiple? Your idle fancies would always pass, and you doubt there’s a man or woman alive that would be able to retain the flames of interest once the spark started.

Dabi, your newest companion, felt similarly. Aside from the obvious factor of his looks, that was what drew you to him in the first place.

Your relationship was limited to clandestine meetings after dark, anywhere you could find a place. Love hotels, seedy clubs, abandoned buildings a couple of times, or the backseat of your car if nothing else was readily available.

Tonight was a little special though. Your friend had won a contest for a couple’s stay at an inn, but work wouldn’t let them have the weekend off so they gave the coupons to you. You weren’t sure why, they knew you’ve never dated anyone before, but you took them anyway. Might as well.

Dabi was surprised when you waved the tickets in front of his face and told him to come. “I didn’t think we were that kind of couple,” he said suspiciously.

“We’re not,” you assured him. “My friend gave these to me, plus I figure a tatami room is better than my shitty car, right?”

He put a finger to his chin in thought. “Your car is shitty. It’s not like we have to stay the whole night either... Alright, give me one. I’ll meet you there.”

You decide to bathe separately, since you knew how dangerous it’d be to go in together. You’d never leave the baths that way, and you wanted to spend at least some time in the cozy tatami-matted suite. It was a heartbreaking decision, not be able to see your lover coax you with his soaking wet body... but you like to believe your sacrifice was a noble one.

You finish before he does and take the time to lounge in the room. Your robe is open and loose, barely covering any part of you as you lazily sip on some sake and gaze upon the world outside.

The shoji screen doors are open, and from your room is the sprawling view of dark emerald trees swaying in the night’s summer wind. You can hear the sound of a shishi odoshi just out of view, the tranquil flowing of the water before the bamboo rocker hits the stone. You can distantly hear a shamisen playing, probably from the dining hall. You’re propping yourself up with your elbows as you lay, half on the tatami flooring and half on the wooden deck outside, and you feel as if you could drift off at any moment. Where is that infernal sack of scars anyway? He’s making you wait too long.

“You look relaxed.”

Speak of the devil. Dabi’s familiar soothing voice brings you out of your thoughts and you glance back at him over your shoulder. “You took your time. I started drinking without you, hope you don’t mind.”

He grins and shuts the door behind him. His own yukata hangs open and is carried further by the gentle breeze wafting through the room. He sits beside you and you hand him an ochoko already filled with sake. He sips on it as your hand finds its way to his exposed thigh. He chuckles when you squeeze him, but says nothing.

“You look good in a yukata, y’know,” you say, your eyes settling on his profile as you rub your fingers in a circular motion over his scars. “Not that you’re wearing it properly. You’d get done in for public indecency if you went out like that.”

“You’re one to talk.” He looks down at your exposed nipples and reaches out to caress one. “You look like a seductress laying there like that, you know I’m a man right?”

You give him a lop-sided smile. “Hm. I wonder.”

“That’s cruel.”

You sit up and a translucent purple tendril flows from your back and snakes through your yukata to stroke his lips. He opens his mouth and lolls his tongue out, licking the appendage before he takes it into his mouth and sucks it. It tastes like water, perhaps with a hint of tartness; no distinct flavour to speak of even if its covered in its secretions.

You watch him watching you as he lewdly suckles on your tendril, the sensation making your body shiver. Using your tentacles during sex isn’t exactly sexually pleasing per se, it’s a completely different feeling altogether - like scratching an itch you couldn’t reach, or that first gulp of water after a hard day’s work in the sun.

The tendril slides out of his mouth and a string of saliva connects it with his tongue. You grab him by the back of the head and kiss him, and he moans into your mouth. Your tongues connect and stroke each other the same way they always do, the same way you both love.

You spawn a second tentacle, covering it in its natural slippery lubricant and coiling it around his fast growing erection. He moans into you again and massages your breasts with his hands. As you part, you bite on his lower lip and he sighs pleasantly.

You start peppering kisses all over his face as your tendril jerks his cock, squeezing it tightly and filling the room with the sounds of lecherous squelching. Dabi moans as he spreads his legs for you in an indecent display.

“Uunh... feels so good...” He hooks his arms around your neck and sticks his tongue out, you respond in kind and he licks along your tongue and your lips. You settle between his legs and spread them further as you tease his pink hole with your first tendril.

He bites his lip and pushes your yukata off your shoulders. “You’re so sexy... you should walk around naked all the time. I might get jealous, though.”

“Want me all to yourself, huh?” you tease, your appendage twirling around his entrance. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t fuck anyone the same way I fuck you.”

“How considerate of you.” He kisses you again as you enter him, and he writhes in pleasure. The pleasant feeling of his tight walls around your tentacle makes you bite your lip and grin. A comfortable heat travels from your lower back to your core, then spreads to your limbs. He just feels so good.

You stop jerking him off and replace the tendril there with your pussy and he can’t help but cry out. “Fuck— your pussy is too good, you’re going to make me cum like that.”

“That’s fine. I drugged your sake,” you smirk.

He starts to laugh, but it’s interrupted by a moan. “Again? You’re insatiable— ah!”

The remaining six tendrils fan out from your back and grope, fuck, and stroke his body. The one in his ass thrusts in with greater ferocity, and Dabi bucks his cock up into your pussy desperately as his orgasm builds up.

He looks to where you connect and whimpers. Your pussy always fucked him the best, and he made sure to tell you so. A deep pink dusts his cheeks as he becomes entranced with the sight of his cock entering you, it looks almost as good as it feels.

“It’s hot...” he pants out. “It’s so h-hot..”

“The sight or the feeling?” you tease.

“Both. It’s hard to hold back— fuck, I want more of you—mmmh...”

You wrap one of the tendrils around his upper torso, using the suckers on and around his nipples, leaving red, puffy circles on his chest. The sensation is staggering, his senses have all but left him a babbling, powerless mess beneath you.

He throws his head back and grabs your hips, fucking up into you as drool trickles out of his mouth and down his chin. “Yes! Fuck me— more! I’m gonna cum inside you— can I? Please let me cum in you— haaahh...”

You bounce on his cock as your tentacles fuck him raw. “Go on, Dabi, cum for me,” you moan.

He wails as he spills his hot seed into your cunt, and you clench your walls around him as he does, milking him for everything he has. His thrusts slow as he rides out his high, but you don’t. You continue fucking him with your tendrils and your pussy, and he falls back to the floor and thrashes helplessly at your merciless assault.

Blood spills from his eyes, the closest thing he can do to cry since he lost his tear ducts, and you stuff a tentacle into his gaping mouth. He sucks it eagerly and desperately grabs at the other tentacles, squeezing their soft jelly-like forms as his body is overcome with stimulation. He convulses as he orgasms from his prostate, but he still somehow manages to feel your own cum dripping down his cock.

The tentacle hits the back of his throat and he gags, his face slick with sweat, spit, and bloody tears. You’re sure he’s saying more filthy words, but they come out muffled against your limb.

The intensely satisfying feeling of using your tendrils to fuck someone coupled with Dabi’s perfectly sized dick hitting your g-spot could almost make you transcend the mortal plane. You won’t, of course— you have to finish making a mess of your lover.

Dabi clearly feels the same. You look down and admire that lewd expression of his, his eyes rolled back and his mouth hung open, tongue flailing around your tentacle like it’s the last thing he’ll ever taste. Were it not for said tentacle quieting his voice, you imagine the whole inn would be able to hear his desperate cries.

Cum weeps from your cunt as he finishes again. You can tell he’s reached his limit, so you show him some mercy. You come off his dick with a wet pop, and his cum flows from you. You slowly bring your tendrils back and let them return to your body.

Dabi’s body has gone almost completely numb, his toes curling and uncurling as he feebly attempts to refocus his gaze. You’re quite worn out yourself and collapse into a heap on top of him, and he instinctively wraps his arms around you.

His breathing is still coming out in pants and gasps when he breaks the silence. “Shit... that was the best sex of my life. That quirk of yours is really convenient huh...”

“Yeah,” you agree. “If the people I beat up with these things knew what I do with them they’d have a heart attack.”

He cackles and runs his hands through your hair. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

You lay there, a mess of sweaty, sticky limbs until you regain your energy. You roll off of him and stand up, and you see him frown from the corner of your eye. “Well that was fun, but I’m gonna head off now. To the baths, that is. Then I’m going home. What’re you gonna do?”

He rolls to his side and casually props his head up on his hand. “Probably the same. I’ll need a minute until I can walk again though.”

You pick up your yukata and drape it over your shoulders. You’re not sure why... it could be the endorphins from multiple orgasms, or maybe the oddly intimate setting, but for once after sex you’re not immediately running out the door.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you didn’t outright hate his company. Ugh. What a weird feeling.

Dabi picks up on this and raises his brows in expectation. “You look like you’re thinking. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Ha-ha,” you laugh sarcastically. “I was just thinking... do you want to take a bath together?”

He ponders this for a moment, then his lips level into a smile. “Sure.”

For the first time in your life, you spend the night with your lover. It’s odd, completely unfamiliar, but not entirely as bad as you thought it’d be.

Perhaps it’s something you could even get used to. As long as it’s with Dabi.

#reader insert #my posts #reader input #bnha x reader #dom reader #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi smut #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #series: adventures in tentaculum

[otomegema]

title: Convergence Theory pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don't even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: Mature for now, explicit later most likely because WHY NOT tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your yukata stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes. Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. Your had been born with the Limitless, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His pale cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

***

September, 2017.

The uproar that followed that moment twelve years ago had been profound. Your parents had spent the remainder of the visit profusely apologizing and demanding explanations… and the entire time Gojo had stared only at you. Blue eyes wide and engulfing, a smirk etched in the corner of his mouth even as he got up and strode out without another word.

You remembered he had whistled as he went. As if it were all according to plan.

No betrothal was agreed to that night nor any night since. You were never summoned to the main house again.

It had been the most freeing moment of your young life, opening the world from the one pinpointed hope you’d be born with the Six Eyes or wed to the one who had it into a kaleidoscope of possibility.

You attended Jujutsu Tech’s Kyoto branch, keeping far out of the way of the rising star of the Gojo clan.

Well.

Sorta.

So the problem with having an inherited technique that allowed you to “see” curses and cursed energy users from great distances? Gojo Satoru. The man was such an expansive supernova of energy that when you opened your mind and utilized your gift of telemetry to try and pinpoint targets you had to navigate around his massive, dominating aura.

It was like counting stars against a sunlit sky. The ability, that should have been astronomically useful, rendered inert if Gojo Satoru was on the field.

You tried not to have your own missions line up with his. Which meant keeping tabs on him. Which meant having to live with this gnat, this buzzing fly of cursed bullshit constantly humming in the background when you used your gifts.

You wished everyday you had swatted him harder.

Missions in Tokyo were the worst, but you accepted them without complaint. The fact you’d even managed to rise to second grade despite your public humiliation of the main family’s golden child was a miracle in itself and not one you would squander.

The task was simply. There was a cursed entity that was utilizing the signal within electric devices of all things to move from device to device, rapid as an electrical pulse. It had already killed five non-sorcerers in surge related house-fires in two days. The risk of it causing a massive firestorm in any district rising.

The air had begun to cool in Tokyo, the heat of the summer giving way to fall. You sat on a bench, wireless com already clipped to your ear, the only sound so far the faint static of the open radio and the sound of your breath. The air had that crispness already, the bare cusp of autumn. You steadied your thoughts and began to shut down your senses.

The cursed energy of the young sorcerer students around you began to glow in your mind’s eye, the rest of the world fading into shades of imperceptible grey. Blurring. Distorting.

If you had the Six Eyes, you would be able to see it all. But instead, you blinded yourself to everything but the cursed when you utilized your skill.

You shut your eyes and with a soft breath you whispered, “Cursed technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

The city revealed itself to your five senses like a massive overflowing of information. Had you not taken the time to adjust, quickly shutting down your hearing, sight, taste, smell and touch in order to compensate, the mental load would have stunned you into a comatose state for several hours. Another thing a Six Eyes user would never need to do. You mentally chastised yourself for allowing the distraction of a deprecating thought, and focused instead upon your sixth sense. The one that tracked beyond the physical.

You were effectively helpless in this state, but within your mind you breezed through the city like a thumb pressed over the pages of a book. Flipping at your leisure as you focused in upon the fastest moving pulse of cursed energy.

In your “peripheral vision” or what acted like a sort of peripheral vision, you could sense the constant presence of Gojo. It was far away, diluted. You wondered if perhaps he was overseas for the barest moment until your senses snapped together and fell upon your target.

You spoke. Your words falling on your own deaf ears as you gave the location into the com. You perceived the movement of the three students. Good kids, fast learners. One boy was even a scion of another great house and the one girl among them possessed a cursed technique of extreme value. The other boy, the pink haired one, you had yet to understand, but his cursed energy output was impressive.

The entity moved. You adjusted, giving new instructions. The curse had not yet caught on to the fact it was being tracked, a fact you would use to your advantage as long as possible. If the curse sensed you, it could easily close the distance and attempt to seek you out… which was why sitting in a park, far from any electrical devices other than your battery powered radio was the safest place you could be.

And if worse came to worse, at least it would be drawn out in the open.

The entity jumped again, following the planned route the three had decided upon to box it further and further into a section of the city that they had already prepared to shut down. Without power, the curse would have to break free of its hiding place within the electric current.

How did a curse even get into the power grid? Too many lost football games on TV? You chuckled a bit to yourself without thinking, providing the newest coordinates as you watched, like an omnipresent spectator as the energies of the curse and the students moved.

This is why I score the highest at Pac-Man…

Everything was going according to plan. You had begun to even let your thoughts wonder, your focus softening just the barest fraction as the students rounded the final corner and blocked the curse into the chosen spot.

And now here comes the switch…

You braced for the surge of cursed energy you expected to feel from it’s ejection…but the power stayed on. You had to stifle the sensation of panic that sparked through your heart, your cursed energy rising a fraction.

And there it was. You felt the shift, the sudden adjusting of the entity. The students flared bright, attacking to try and ward off its escape, but without the power shut off they were waiting for, the curse easily vanished, pulsing through the city and heading now straight ahead… to you.

It’s fine. Fine. Nothing electric by me, so no fast travel.

It couldn’t pass through the coms. It would need to branch off into another grounded circuit and then physically come out to face you in the empty park.

You could hold unto the technique a little longer. Guide the students a little longer. You snapped information in quick short terms. Watching the cursed energy approach closer and closer until it reached the last building at the far end of the park.

And then, inexplicably, it jumped again.

The force in which you were propelled did not immediately register to your mind as your senses flickered and began to come back on line one by one.

The first was touch.

And thus pain.

Your muscles contracted, shot full with an electrical pulse. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the strike coming indirectly as if someone had forced the curse away. Something blinding and bright exploding over the far-reaching vision of your Limitless technique before your ability snapped off like a cut thread.

Your hearing came back first from sheer force of will. Sight returning in blurry, slowly filling shapes. You forced yourself up from the ground, feeling scrapes biting along your palms.

“You fucking dick.” You managed to hiss, your vision returning just in time to witness the exorcism of the curse by none other than Gojo Satoru.

***

“You used me as bait!”

Your voice reverberated off the hallway walls, your mild injuries tended to but your grievances still in desperate need of airing.

You were only comforted by the fact his students had not been involved in the deception, having also thought Gojo was away while they worked under her guidance in the meanwhile. You were no teacher, but you had taken enough students through missions to be adequate at “babysitting”.

Gojo grinned easily, eyes hidden behind his blind fold as he ran a hand up his neck, feigning a bashfulness you knew had not an ounce of genuineness to it.

The bastard had quietly set up a god damn daisy chain of extension cables into the park, ending plugged into a cheap TV set… right next to you. And he’d done it only after you’d entered your Limitless, taking advantage of your lack of senses to literally bait you like a god damn fish hook and then swoop in to destroy the curse.

His students had been a distraction. A means to force the curse into seeking you out and getting into the open where it could not easily run again. It was the most convoluted, infuriatingly, ridiculous brilliant bullshit you had heard in a long while.

“Pretty clever, yeah? I’ve been practicing my multi-layer tactics.”

“That wasn’t a tactic, it was a gamble and a shitty one at that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but did you die?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side. His voice was tinged with amusement and you wondered for a moment if he even remembered you and this was some elaborate “gotcha” twelve years in the making… or if this kind of backhanded backstabbing was common place for him.

“It was interesting to see your technique in action. I could probably give you some tips on how to make it more effective, but they’d be pretty useless to— well. You. So I figure I’ll just make the tweaks and practice it myself!”

You stayed silent.

“What did ya call it? Limitless Telemetry?”

You turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Whoa— hold on.”

Your exit was cut off, the grinning face you wanted nothing more than to connect your fist into coming back into view.

“I’m kidding. Don’t run off and cry now, we got some other business I wanna discuss.”

“If you’re planning on pitching another mission to me, I pass.”

“Nope. Well— yes. But not like this one.”

You sighed, side stepped, and continued around him again.

“I’ll buy you lunch!”

You stopped.

“And maybe even some kakigōriiiiiiii—“ he continued, his voice lifting to a sing-song tone as he stretched out the word. Your stomach twisted and grumbled in response. Using your Limitless always took so much out of you… a side effect you wondered if he experienced to.

You turned to look back at the man who hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years and wondered again if he was so stupid he didn’t remember who you were or if he was hatching some new plot.

He smiled in what you assumed he thought was a disarming and charming way.

“Fine.”

***

You had settled for a sweet plum flavor, dipping your small wooden spoon into the shaved ice and enjoying the way it melted across your tongue. Flavors always felt more pronounced after you used your Limitless, smells more intense. The sights sharper. It was probably just a placebo effect from being without them, even for a short amount of time, but regardless you enjoyed the sweet flavor and the fruity smell of the different syrups… most of which were coming from Gojo’s own cup.

He had gotten every flavor. The shaved ice in his cup a rainbow of color and tastes as he scooped several together at a time.

The lunch he promised had yet to come, but the treat was enough for now as the sugar helped give a little more pep to your body and your mood. The amount of calories you expended using your gifts was another thing entirely.

The two of you walked a ways in silence, giving you time to observe him for the first time in over a decade.

He had changed, that much you could tell. There was something less harsh in his general demeanor and he had grown considerably since he was fifteen. The boyishness of his face had sharpened, the man overtaking his features. He was broader, less lanky than his teenage self and while his easygoing and devil-may-care attitude was still present, there was something less— edged about it. Less angry.

“Your hair is shorter now,” Gojo said suddenly, “And your chest is bigger.”

You immediately frowned. A look of open disgust flashing over your face. Gojo laughed.

“Thought I forgot about ya, didn’t you?” He slid a thumb over his cheek, the gesture making you flush at the memory of what it felt like to slap the smirk off his face.

“Honestly? Yes.” you answered shortly, taking another bite of your ice.

“Nah. I remember, just figured there was no point in makin’ nice. You seem to be doing fine on your own these days. Second grade, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“As short worded as ever.”

He strode off, forcing you to match his pace. He found a park bench and sat down, sprawling out lazily. You sat next to him at his insistence, knocking your knee into his own until he closed his thighs a bit more with a chuckle.

“Thought you’d be a first grade by now.”

“I have not been recommended.”

He snorted, “Bet you know why.”

You clenched your teeth, holding back a sharp word and an even sharper desire to toss your kakigōri right in his face. Arrogant as ever. Some things, you guessed, did not get better with age.

“The great and fabled Six Eyes holding a grudge over a love tap? How trite.” you said, trying to keep your words indifferent.

“Is that what it was? I had a bruise ya know.”

“You could have stopped my hand before it ever even touched you. You wanted me to slap you so you could get out of having to do anymore meetings.”

His laugh was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

“It’s what I know.”

Gojo turned his attention back to his shaved ice, the two of you sitting in silence long enough for the weight of it to become uncomfortable for you. Finally you shifted and scrapped your spoon down the ice, leaving trails of melting syrup.

“What is it that you want?” Because that was what this was about wasn’t it? He wanted something. The main family never disdained to speak to the lower members without a need and Gojo Satoru was not about to be the exception.

“I’m going to recommend you for first-grade sorcerer status.”

You scrapped your spoon through so harshly a chunk of colored ice fumbled down the side of the paper cup and down your hand. You dodged just in time to avoid it landing with a wet smack on your pants.

You gaped openly at him, but Gojo kept his attention fixed on his ice, happily stirring it up into a soupy, syrupy mess.

“… and yet again I ask, what is that you want?”

Gojo leaned back, tilting his face towards you with an easy grin. You wondered if he saw the world the way you did with your Limitless with his eyes shaded. Seeing only the impressions of energy and sensation. Could he see your expression? The confusion in the downturn of your mouth or the suspicion in the narrowness of your eyes?

“Nothing too crazy! Just need a fiancée.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

***

You waited outside the small convenience store across the street, feeling your cheeks beginning to lessen in redness from both anger and embarrassment at your sudden outburst.

When Gojo returned from inside, his hair was still wet… and there was still some redness from the syrup stuck to the strands. You hadn’t been able to control the impulse to throw your kakigōri at him, the breaking of your composure having flowed directly down your arm. It could have been worse, you supposed. You could have punched him.

He had needed to rinse off his blindfold, the fabric now folded and tucked into his back pocket. He had replaced it with the dark glasses you recognized from his youth, giving you a glimpse of the bright blueness of his eyes every once and awhile.

Gojo sighed and tossed a damp paper towel into a bin and turned to you expectantly. You gingerly handed him back his own dessert, having minded it for him while he went into the men’s room to clean up. It was practically soup now and you winced when he lifted it to his lips and drank it.

“As I was saying—“ he began with a smack of his lips.

“No—”

“—it’s a pretend engagement.”

Your mouth hung open, half ready to utter another refusal, which you swallowed back in as he waited expectantly for you to cease interrupting him.

“You let me take you on a few dates, we put on a show of my courting a potential betrothed and in exchange I green light your promotion.”

You narrowed your eyes, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth in obvious consideration.

“For how long?”

Your directness didn’t seem to offend him. Quite the opposite actually. Every time you curtly dropped a single or few word sentence he seemed to only smile brighter.

Gojo shrugged, “A few months. Maybe more. Until I figure out a permanent solution.”

“Your parents want you to get married?”

“The whole clan wants me to get married, sweetheart. I am the strongest.”

And now came the obvious question.

“Why me?”

Gojo shrugged, “You were one of their first picks to start with, so they’ll approve. And there isn’t a risk of you falling for me…”

His lips upturned into a sly grin, “… too quickly.”

You scoffed.

“Family will back off. I get a bit of peace until I have to kick you to the curb, and you get to be a first-class sorcerer. Everyone wins.”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

Gojo gave a sad little nod, like he was agreeing with a deluded person in order to keep them calm and reasonable.

Granted, you did just effectively hurl a slushy at him a few minutes prior.

“This seems a bit extreme, even for you. Why do you think I’d even say yes? You know exactly why you got slapped. Can I expect that same level of charm from our future ‘dates’?” you asked, kicking yourself for having implied in your words you knew him well enough to even know what was extreme for him. The comment did not go unnoticed, even with his half expression hidden you could tell his interest was piqued. The last thing you wanted to do was to explain to this insufferable man how his very presence was as constant as the sun. Always nagging in the back of your mind and in your abilities.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“That was awhile ago. Most girls find me pretty charming these days. As to why you’d say yes— given it is probably your best chance at getting to first grade sorcerer status, I can’t think of a reason you wouldn’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Fifteen year old you would be outraged, furious. She would not have considered this offer for a second. She would have stamped her foot and told him exactly where he could stick his offer.

But twenty-eight year old you had learned that very often principles were made to be damned.

“And the fact I can tell you are just dying to say yes.”

There was that arrogance again.

“You still buying me lunch?” you countered and the smile he gave you was a bit different than the ones before.

“Wow. No one will even question how I could have been charmed by such a talented freeloader.”

“I am exceedingly charming.”

“And what an arm. You play softball or you just start a lot of food fights as a kid?”

“I want sushi.” You said, the finality of your voice inarguable. You thought he might have rolled his eyes, but nevertheless you got your lunch and even managed to bargain a single day to think about the offer.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x you #IDK WHAT I AM DOING LOL #YOLO

[kxkyuu]

Quick Imagine

Kyoujuro X Injured F!Demon Slayer S/O (NSFW)

YOU COULD NEVER HURT ME

I swatted away my husband's hands as he tried to tend to my wounds for the umpteenth time today since I returned from my mission. I was assigned to kill a demon that had been plaguing a village. Before I managed to slice its neck, its claws caught me on the side of my abdomen and cheek. "Kyou, I said that I'm fine! Shinobu already dressed my wounds and gave me some medicine."

He puffed his cheeks out and crossed his arms over his chest. Kyoujuro was always  so overprotective of me even though I was a Kinoto ranked demon slayer. I knew he meant well, but I could handle a few wounds every now and then. "Are you sure?" He reached out and touched the wound marring my face. "That damn demon dared to scare your beautiful face."

I placed my hand over his and leaned into his touch, a sigh leaving my lips. I slowly moved his hand from my cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his palm. "Yes, I'm sure, honey." I nodded my head. "But..." I gave him a once over, drinking in how handsome he looked in that dark blue yukata. Kyoujuro was always so handsome when he wore casual clothing with his hair loose around his shoulders. "There is something that can make me feel better."  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Kyoujuro submitted to my lips for a second before gently pushing me away. "I don't want to hurt you. The wounds on your waist haven't healed completely."

I smiled at his concern and cupped his face in my hands, kissing his cheeks softly. "Kyou, you could never hurt me. Please? I need to feel you. It's been far too long." I pressed soft kisses along his jawline and neck, knowing that it was his weakness.

Kyoujuro looked down at me, his gaze soft and tender. He still looked a bit conflicted about it but finally gave in to my temptations. "Okay. You win, Love. But we take it slow. I don't want to reopen your wounds." He placed his hands gently on my hips, being very mindful of the gash that wrapped around it. Kyoujuro slowly moved in to claim my lips in a sweet, passionate kiss. 

I moaned softly as my arms came up to wrap around his neck, my fingers tangling in his soft blond hair. His tongue slid into my mouth and caressed mine in a slow seductive dance. His hands moved carefully up the side of my body to the front of my black demon slayer uniform top, quickly popping the buttons open. Kyoujuro moved slowly, carefully and almost like I was made of glass as he removed my uniform top. My fingers curled into his hair as his tongue began to trace patterns along my flesh, his lips suckling at the skin every now and then.

“You be a good girl and let me do everything.” Kyoujuro mumrued against my skin as he used his nose to part my jacket open so that he could wrap his tongue around my nipple. He drew the pebbled flesh into his mouth and sucked causing a loud moan to leave my throat as I chanted his name. His fingers found their way up under the skirt of my uniform and he toyed with my dampening panties, rubbing two thick fingers along the wet spot. “Already this wet and I’ve barely touched you, my sweet.”

Another soft mewl left me, the pleasure starting to make my legs weak. I slumped slightly only for Kyoujuro to wrap his arms around me at my waist and knees carefully and pick me up, all without letting go of my breast. My fingers tightened in his hair as I held him in place against my chest. My thighs clenched together as Kyoujuro carried me to our bedroom. He laid me gently down on the plush mattress as he moved his mouth to the neglected breasts, his hand coming up to twist the other nipple. His other hand pulled my leg up so that he could glide his fingers down my thigh until they reached my underwear. Kyoujuro then hooked one finger into the waistband and pulled them down my legs.

Kyoujuro released my breast in favor of pressing hot, wet kisses down my abdomen, pausing when he reached the white bandages that were wrapped around my wounds. He looked up at me with concern in those golden-vermillion eyes of his. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” His hand came up to rest in my uninjured cheek.

I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my lips. "I already said you could never hurt me, Kyou." I reassured him. I shifted my hips, feeling that ball of heat starting to burn low in my belly. “I need you, baby. Please?” I batted my eyelashes at him and poked my bottom lip out slightly. I knew what would get to him, but I was saving my secret weapon for later.

He still looked a bit conflicted about doing this while I was injured, but he relented. Kyoujuro could never tell me “no”, especially when it came to intimacy. Kyoujuro leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to my bandages before moving lower. He lifted my legs and placed them on his shoulders. Turning his head, his tongue slipped out and gave my calf a long lick before he nibbled on the muscle. “These beautiful legs of yours. I can’t help but to want to bite and nibble on them. Especially those plush, strong thighs of yours.” He slid his body down until he was level with my inner thighs which he quickly lathed his lips on.

Another moan rumbled in my throat when his teeth sunk into my thigh, his tongue flicking over the flesh. I knew Kyoujuro always enjoyed leaving his marks on me and had no shame about the ones I leave on him. I pulled at his loose hair when he nibbled his way down my thigh, his breath ghosting over my bare cunt. “Kyou...please....I need it...” I whined softly, curling my fingers deeper into his hair.

“Patience, wife, patience.” He hummed as he moved to my other leg, dragging the tip of his tongue over the flesh, his teeth grazing gently before embedding in my thigh. I felt him slowly trail his fingers along my other thigh slowly moving towards my clenching pussy. My body jolted when he finally touched my aching center and a choked gasp left my throat. Kyoujuro immediately stopped and looked at him. “Are you okay?” He glanced at my bandages to make sure that my wound had not reopened. “Sorry...” he apologized, his hands grazing over my wound.

I sighed before pushing him over and climbing on top of him. “If you’re so worried about hurting me. Let me do it. I know my limits.” I cupped his cheeks in my hands and kissed his lips as I straddled his waist. Pulling away, I saw the hesitant look in his eyes and knew it was time to bring out my secret weapons. I leaned in close to his ear, my arms dangling around his neck as I whined out, “Please, Daddy...I need to feel my daddy’s cock so deeply inside me.” I felt his hands on my hips almost instantly. 

Kyoujuro growled as he quickly tugged at his obi and freed his cock from the confines of the fabric. “Naughty little fireball, you know what calling me that does to me.” He lifted me up by my hips, and positioned the head of his dick at my slick entrance. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”’

Wiggling my hips, I smirked as I slowly began to ease my down on him, moaning at the feeling of being stretched to take him. “I don’t know...Ah~...what you’re...Fuck~....talking about.”  I tossed my head back as I took all of him in, feeling so full, the bulbous head of his fat cock pressed so tightly against my sweet spot. I slowly rocked my hips against his, causing a friction that sent pleasure down my spine. “Fuck, Kyou...That feels so good.”

He sighed as he rested his hands on my hips, doing his best to not squeeze me like he normally would. “You’re so lucky I love you.”  Kyoujuro pulled me in closer as he began to thrust upward, ramming his cock into me at a slow careful pace. I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “Fuck...you’re so tight. Please let me know if this becomes too much, baby girl and I will stop.”

I let out another lustful sound mewl as I buried my face into the crook of his neck. I ran my tongue up the column of his throat before licking the shell of his ear. “Kyou...” I crooned. “I am okay. Now, please, fuck me, Daddy.” I bit his earlobe, knowing that was one of his weak points. Another moan let me as his thrust became deeper, his grip just a bit tighter on my waist. I grimaced slightly at the pressure on my wounds, but that smoldering heat that simmered in my belly flared into a blistering ball of fire. I lifted my body, pulling his cock out until the swollen tip was left inside before sinking back down and grinding my clit against his pelvic bone.

Kyoujuro let out a groan as he slowly guided me up and down on his dick. He let go of my wounded hip to rub circles on my clit. “Baby girl...” he growled in my ear. “Your pussy feels so around my cock. Now, be a good fucking girl and cum for Daddy.” He still moved at that slow, deep, gentle space, being very careful to not hurt me as his fingers worked over my sensitive button. My inner walls began to flutter and pulse against him as that ball of heat tightened in my lower belly until it threatened to snap. “That’s it, Princess. Cum for me. Cum for your Daddy.”

My head lolled back as my mouth opened in a series of incoherent cries. I bounced on his cock, moving a bit faster than the pace he had set, trying to speed the process of my orgasm. My wounds were beginning to throb slightly, so I knew that I needed to hurry or they would reopen. “Ah~ Ah~ Ah~ Kyou, just like that. I’m so fucking close.” I clung to my husband desperately, grinding against his fingers as they worked over my clit. His name fell from my lips as a mantra as that heat tightened, coiling around until it finally snapped. My release hit me so strongly, flooding out of my to drip down Kyoujuro’s dick and balls, pooling in his lap.

He used my orgasm to go a bit more feral, pounding up into me as he felt his own release approaching. “Fuck, Princess. I’m going to cum. It’s okay for me to cum inside you, right? You want me to breed you, right?” His dirty talk made my walls flutter again as he struck that sweet spot repeatedly within me. His fingers still rubbed at my clit, the slickness from my orgasm aiding him. “You want it so deep inside, don’t you, my naughty spitfire.”

“Ah~ Yes, Kyou.” I cried. “I want it. Please, Daddy. Please let me have it.” I bounced against him, the friction causing another ball of heat to tighten in my belly and it quickly threatened to snap.  I felt him give one last deep thrust before his warm seed spilled into me and that cod snapped and my second orgasm left me dizzy and drunk on pleasure as I went limp in his arms. Kyoujuro gave a few more gentle pumps before his own body slumped slightly, arms caging me in his warmth. “I love you, Kyou. So much.” I whispered tiredly.

“I love you, too, my beautiful wife.” He sat up and pressed the softest, sweetest and most gentle kiss to my sweaty forehead. “Can we stay like this for a while longer?”

A giggle left me as I leaned up to kiss his lips. “Of course, my handsome husband.” I felt a small ache in my wounds and knew that the bandages would need to be changed soon, but I was not about to let that ruin snuggles with my love. I rolled my eyes when he asked for the umpteenth time if he had hurt me. I flicked his nose. “I told you repeatedly, You could never hurt me, Kyou!”

@knyplaymatemansion

#rengoku kyoujurou #down bad for kyoujuro #kyoujuro #kny kyoujurou #kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku smut #rengoku x you #kimetsu rengoku #the rengoku rot is real #kny rengoku #rengoku imagines #kyojuro x reader #demon slayer kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #playing nice💋

[kanonsarchivedblog]

Might Be Onto Somethin' (Kiss Me More)

Word Count: 2142 Rating: E Character(s): Mitsuri Kanroji Ships: None; Mentions of Rengoku Kyōjurō, Iguro Obanai, Sanemi Shinazugawa Genre: Smut Author's Notes: I... Have no excuse other than the fact that Mitsuri is cute and she deserves so much love. And many partners. Give her all of the partners please. She has so much love to give- This can also be read over on my ao3! ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ The perks of having your own portion of the compound meant the peace and quiet that came with it. It was nice to be able to just relax, to not have to worry about being walked in on. A nice soak in the hot spring had been well earned! A trim to the ends of her hair to get rid of any split ends and to keep the long layers still looking good, and then a bit of skin care! Mitsuri was even able to paint her nails! And her toe nails!

Evening was falling, the sounds of laughter coming from her siblings filling the air as she closed the shoji. Dinner was already done; they would all be retiring to their own spaces soon enough. Summer was in full swing, the heat of the day melting away, though that didn’t mean it still wasn’t warm- too warm to wear proper clothes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stripped out of her dinner kimono so quickly; she took a moment to simply stand in the nude, enjoying the slight cool breeze that drifted through the room from an open window.

Open window. Naked. Oh, no!

A squeak escaped her as she grabbed hold of a light cotton yukata, slipping it on to cover herself, cheeks growing rosy in embarrassment. What if someone had come by? And seen her? That would have been so awkward! What if it had been Tomioka-san? OR Shinobu-san? Oh, she wouldn’t have been able to look them in the eye! Or even Uzui-san!

… Or Rengoku-kun.

Or… Or Iguro-san…

Swallowing roughly, Kanroji turned on her heel and marched herself to her bedroom, chastising herself for even considering those thoughts. That- that wasn’t ladylike! Was it? No- yes? A groan slipped free as she flopped onto her futon, face pressed into the blankets. It wasn’t… Wrong to feel lust. She knew this. It also wasn’t wrong to feel love! And it… Wasn’t a bad thing to be attracted to people- to people she knew well! There wasn’t anything bad with that at all!

Kyōjurō had been her friend for years- they’d known each other long before they became Hashira. He’d been her teacher, even! And she’d watched as he grew- as they both grew! Cheeks tinting with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, she rolled over onto her back, staring up at her ceiling. Her window was open in here, too; from there, she could see down the hill to where the Rengoku compound sat.

Her gaze drifted to the window, watching as clouds began to drift across the night sky, the stars peeking out from behind clouds occasionally. It wasn’t a bad thing to… Want. Everyone wanted something, someone- it was natural. Her thighs clenched, an unconscious movement that drew a soft gasp out. Her eyes slid shut, the battle beginning to wane in her mind. This was okay. It was! Especially with… How good it would feel, oh- oh, it would feel good.

“This is okay,” she decided, speaking softly to the empty bedroom. Pushing herself up, she glanced around- as if making sure she was truly alone. Which was silly- of course she was alone! She would have heard if someone came in. A giddy smile curled her lips as she settled back down against her pillows, nimble fingers quickly undoing the tie that held the yukata together, allowing for the fabric to shift.

Her eyes slid shut as she drew in a slow, nervous breath. It wasn’t as if she never touched herself- she did, more often than she really wanted to admit. The tint in her cheeks darkened as she squeezed her thighs together again, creating a gentle sort of pressure that had a sigh slipping free. A hand raised- not her own, not in her mind, no, this hand was much larger than her own, somehow still so soft despite wielding a wicked blade- and came to peel away the yukata, baring her naked form to the room. She was proud of her physique- she was soft, her tummy softer than her fellow Hashira, but beneath that layer of softness was muscle she’d always had, would always have. She liked it- liked having soft hips, a soft tummy, soft thighs.

Iguro-san liked her thighs. He’d complimented her on them a few days ago- when they’d all been granted time off to have their blades sharpened. It had been an idle comment in a conversation with Shinobu-san, who had brought up the idea of a lighter fabric for their summer uniforms. They’d all agreed- it would be nice not to smother in the heavy, dark fabric. Tengen had mentioned how it was smart to have a uniform like her own- a skirt, which did mean she was able to cool off faster than her companions.

The conversation had drifted, which let Obanai murmur close to her ear that he enjoyed her uniform quite a bit- after all, it allowed him to see her beautiful thighs. It had made her blush, had made her squeeze her thighs together and hide a smile.

“Iguro-san,” she sighed out, hand drifting lower, nails ghosting against the skin of a thigh before digging in in a way that gave both pain and pleasure- something she was certain he would enjoy. Something he would do. “Please…”

He wasn’t the only one who looked- she would never admit it aloud, but she caught Kyōjurō looking at her chest a few times, his gaze soft, lids heavy before he caught himself and looked away, cheeks rosy. She thought it was cute! She was more than aware of her bust- it caused her problems at times, especially if she couldn’t bind the proper way before a mission. But oh…

A hand cupped her left breast, fingers squeezing the soft flesh. She pictured the hand to be larger, much larger and warmer, massaging and squeezing, pinching at her nipples just so, drawing out a soft squeal because oh, that’s sensitive! “Kyo-” she whined, head turning to the side, thighs parting as the hand shifted to the other, giving it the same treatment. “Sensitive,” she whispered, though she didn’t hear her own voice- the rasp of another, of a tongue drifting across her nipple, of silver hair and wild eyes.

The hand on her thigh slipped upward, dragging sharp nails along the inside of her thigh. It sent a shock through her system, her legs jolting with the pleasure it drew forth. “Iguro-san!” She gasped, and for a moment, she swore she heard a chuckle- his chuckle, but it only made her hand settle over herself, adrenaline and lust mingling in her veins. Her toes curled as she slipped her middle finger between her folds, surprised to find herself already wet. Then again-

She had been excited for days now, hadn’t had time to handle this.

Oh, but the finger pressing against a bundle of nerves drew her from her thoughts quickly, a moan drifting into the open air of the bedroom at the relief that brief touch gave. Her eyes opened, blinking in the darkness of her bedroom, the images dispelling for a moment.

Toy. She needed something. She needed to be filled- to feel full. It wasn’t as if she could just… Go get the real thing! No, instead she rolled over, grabbing an ornate box that looked as if it should hold jewelry, and tugged it closer. It was inconspicuous; no one would ever think of what it would hold. The toy itself was a good replica of the real thing, thicker near the base, thinner towards the top with a flared head. The material used was soft so as to not cause discomfort- perfect for her, considering how sensitive she could be sometimes. And tonight was certainly one of those times.

Rolling back onto her bed, she took hold of another pillow and slid it down, settling it beneath her rear. Eyes closing once more, images flooded back to the forefront of her mind. The toy pressed to her lips, and if she thought hard enough, she could imagine it having heat along with the weight it held. Her lips parted, the toy slipping in, her tongue curling around the head before she forced her jaw to relax. She’d never admit it out loud, but she’d trained herself with this toy, her throat relaxing. Fingers of another hand drifted low, gathering the slickness that had formed between her lower lips before slipping inside, drawing out a whine around the toy. Her brows furrowed as she tried to time the thrusts with the toy in her mouth, brushing against that one spot every now and then.

In her mind, it wasn’t her fingers in her, or a toy in her mouth- no, the fingers belonged to a man with golden and ruby hair who pressed kisses to her thighs as he opened her up and tore her apart, as he coaxed her closer and closer to the edge with his delicate touches. In her mouth sat the cock of the Snake Pillar, thrusting slowly, deeply, fucking her face.

Too close, too close- she pulled her fingers free and slipped the toy from her mouth with a whine, head falling back. Not yet, she didn’t want to stop yet. Licking her lips, she readjusted, bringing the toy down to settle between her lips, rocking slowly, the head nudging against her clit with each rock until she couldn’t handle it, slipping the toy inside slowly, a hiss slipping free at the stretch. It wasn’t painful, not in the least- no, it felt good, wonderfully so. She whined, nose scrunching up as it bottomed out. She took a moment to adjust, shifting her hips to get a more comfortable angle.

A hand settled at her breasts once more, groping, teasing as she began to move her hand. “Oh,” she whispered, brows furrowing, “yes- yes, like that! I like that, please, yes,” she began to babble as the toy sped up- no, not a toy. Obanai was between her thighs, Kyōjurō behind her, holding her, his hands on her chest as Obanai used her. “Harder, harder, harder- please, I’ve been a good girl!” She whined, lost to her fantasy. “Obanai- Obanai, please.”

'Only good girls get to cum. Are you sure you've been good?' The phantom image asked, voice gruff- Oh. Oh, that would be Sanemi.

“I have!” She squealed, hips rising as the toy began to hit that one spot dead center. “I have, I’ve been good! ‘Nemi, ‘Nemi!” She whined, body moving with the force she used. “Kyo- Oba- oh, there, there, there, don’t stop!”

'We won't stop,' Kyo’s voice whispered in her ear as his fingers played with her nipple, twisting, pinching, massaging. 'Not until you're sobbing and making a mess for us.'

“Fuck me!” She pleaded, something so vulgar that, had she not been in such a worked up state, would have embarrassed her. “Please! I’m a good girl! I’m your good girl! Fuck me, please, God- Obanai, you feel so good! So good in me, so good, yes, yes, 𝘺𝘦𝘴!”

'Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?' Obanai asked, panting. 'Cum on my cock like a good girl, Mitsuri?'

“Yes, yes- Obanai, Ob-” She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream as she tumbled over the edge, legs twitching, chest heaving as she kept fucking herself. “Harder, harder, please-” she begged, working herself higher and higher up before her hand stopped, body stilling. Tears spilled free, trailing down her cheeks as she removed her hand from her mouth, panting harshly. Wet- very… Wet? Blinking to clear her vision, Mitsuri shifted her hips.

Oh.

Oh!

“Oh, no- that’s- that’s new, oh dear, oh no,” she whispered, pulling the toy free so that she could sit up and gawk at the wet… Puddle. That was a puddle. “OH-” She squeaked, cheeks red as strawberries as she realized what she’d done. She couldn’t stand to clean off her bed- not yet, anyway. She’d clean the blankets and sheets tomorrow, but that poor pillow… “At least you were already ready to be tossed,” she murmured, a giggle bubbling up.

She settled back down on a clean portion of her bed, body relaxing. Sanemi? Kyo? And Obanai? Oh, my! She covered her face with her hands and let out a soft squeal. How would she look them in the eye tomorrow! She shifted, staring at the window- were her eyes playing tricks on her? Brows furrowing, she rose to her feet and stepped closer, poking her head out. No one was there.

Huh.

She could have sworn she’d seen golden and ruby hair. Strange.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Shrugging, she turned back to the mess she now had to clean up. Or…

“Or I could… Have some more fun?”

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #mitsuri kanroji #rengoku kyoujurou #sanemi shinaguzawa #iguro obanai #demon slayer smut #kny imagines #m's scribbles #not safe m&ms

[commander-diomika]

(Click to Read From the Beginning) Part 6 - Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Word Count: 4700 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Opposites Attract, Trans Male Character, Forced Outing, Pining, Additional Warnings In Author's Note

Summary: New intel from Curie brings new rules about the quarantine process. This puts Zolf and Wilde in an awkward position. A/N - The forced outing depicted in this chapter isn’t through any malicious intent, but rather circumstances outside character control. There are no transphobic sentiments portrayed in this series, internalised or direct, but some of Wilde’s caution around disclosing indicates that this is a world where transphobia exists. These things could make for an uncomfortable experience for some readers.

The few times that Zolf went out on missions alone, usually on fruitless attempts to scout the Shoin Institute, it had been Barnes that welcomed him back and locked him in. Zolf didn’t mind isolation stretches, but he didn’t love that Wilde kept himself absent for the entire duration. He understood why, but there was something unsettling about coming home, and yet having to wait for what he felt like was the proper homecoming of being reunited with Wilde. But he coped with it just fine.

When the invitation from Curie came for a meeting, and specified that only one person was welcome, Zolf fought hard for it to be him.

“You’ve never even met Curie.” Wilde pointed out, voice level despite the heat in Zolf’s tone. “It makes far more sense for me to go, and someone needs to stay here.”

“At least take Barnes with you,” Zolf countered, knowing he was being ridiculous but unable to help it. He’d known that this time was coming but that didn’t make it come any easier. “He don’t have to come with you to meet her, but he can keep you safe.”

Wilde’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Zolf crossed his arms, stymied. It wasn’t that he was overprotective. But he couldn’t squash the memory of Wilde’s face, slippery with blood beneath frantic fingers, or the haunted look in Wilde’s eyes when he emerged from isolation.

“I won’t even be gone long, Zolf. Curie is going to meet me in Hiroshima.”

Zolf opened his mouth to argue further, and was stopped by Wilde closing his eyes, looking genuinely tired for a moment. Normally Wilde relished a bit of verbal sparring and the two of them fought as easily as they breathed. But something about the way he sighed gave Zolf pause.

When Wilde next spoke, his voice was soft, a rare pleading in his tone. “I know, Zolf. I know you don’t like it. I don’t like it, but I have been looking at these same four walls for months. I am sick of not being a productive member of this team.”

“WHAT!” Zolf exploded. “You are the most productive member! Me n’ Barnes n’ Carter would be nothin’ without-”

“You know what I mean!” Wilde said, frustrated. Zolf hardly ever saw him like this. Anger was an emotion that Wilde kept locked away, just like his fear. “I’m sick of people treating me like I’m some sort of china doll, just because I can’t cast anymore!”

Zolf spluttered. “You’re not- we don’- nobody said-”

Wilde raised his hand. “I appreciate your concern, Zolf, I really do. But I’m going on this mission. And I am asking you-” Wilde drew a deep breath in through his nose “-to trust me.”

Well. That had been played like a trump card. Zolf felt something in him release, the angry churn of his stomach dissipating. If there was any truth left in the world at this point, it was that Zolf trusted Wilde.

He nodded.

---

As was protocol, on the evening he returned, Zolf, Barnes and Carter made themselves scarce until Wilde was safely in the anti-magic chamber, not detouring to any other rooms of the inn. They had arrangements for how to handle if a returning party member didn’t head straight for what they’d all started calling “the box,” but thankfully it was yet to come up. Zolf headed in after, with the keys to the cell, fresh clothes, and a bowl of prawn gyoza in hand.

“How’s Hiroshima?” Zolf asked, locking up and passing through the food.

Wilde didn’t respond, just levelled Zolf with a flat glare.

Zolf shrugged. “You can talk to me, an’ if at the end of the week you’re compromised, I’ll just assume that anythin’ you said was false intel, yeah? Until then,” Zolf pulled up the chair that sat outside and cell and settled it. “There’s no harm in it going this way,” he swept his hand from Wilde’s direction toward himself. “I just won’t tell you anything you don’t already know.” He, quite simply, was not going to take no for an answer. He wasn’t leaving Wilde alone with his thoughts for a week.

Wilde managed to look disapproving for a moment more, then a little smirk slipped through the veneer. “I find it difficult to believe you know anything I don’t, Smith.”

“Oh, sod off.”

“I can’t help it if I just happen to be the brains of the operation.” Wilde gave a small, defeated chuckle, and sat on the cot. He started undoing the anti-magic cuffs and massaging his ankles. Sometimes when there was no one using the box, Wilde would come sleep down here just for a chance to take them off for a little while.

“Hiroshima is well enough, but Curie says Cairo is a mess. The sandstorms have been giving it absolute hell. Anyone who doesn’t still need to be there isn’t, though it’s still seeing a lot of refugee traffic.” He picked up the food Zolf had passed through.

“From Europe?”

Wilde nodded between popping gyoza into his mouth. “These are very good, you know.”

Zolf waved a hand. “Hiromi’s been giving me lessons. She’s much nicer about it than her husband.”

Wilde updated Zolf on Curie’s operation. When he mentioned that she had been gifted the old Tahan estate, Zolf’s gut squeezed. It had been… almost over a year since he’d seen Hamid, and months since they’d last heard from him and the others. It was almost impossible to think that they were still alive, but without bodies or news, there was no way forward. Both men were left lingering in ambivalence, hope laid thick and heavy over a grief that couldn’t surface.

Wilde finished his food and frowned. He spoke more hesitantly than before. “There is one more thing I should tell you. We need to update some of the protocols.”

“Yeh? Howso?”

“The blue vein rumours? About the infected? Confirmed. More importantly, Curie says in every instance of a double agent, the blue veins have appeared on the body first, not the face or hands.” Wilde was overexplaining in a way that was unlike him. “In addition to the quarantine, being on the lookout for behavioural changes, Curie also recommended we do,” Wilde hesitated, again in a most un-Wilde-like fashion, “…visual inspections of those in quarantine. Thorough ones.” He fluttered nervous hands up and down his torso to illustrate.

As Zolf slowly turned over the implications, Wilde turned to rummage through his bag and withdraw papers. He gestured for Zolf to come take them through the slot.

“Reports, signed and sealed, detailing it all.”

Zolf took them, still absorbing what Wilde had said. He didn’t look through the bars. If he had, he would have seen something cautious and watchful in Wilde’s eyes.

The silence stretched on too long between them.

“Anyway, if you don’t mind, I am going to get some sleep. The boat from here to the mainland isn’t exactly a luxury cruiser, and I am exhausted.” Wilde flumped down onto the cot to punctuate the point.

“I… yeh. I’ll go have a look through these reports.” As Zolf walked away from the box, he paused in the door. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. I’m glad you’re safe, he didn’t add.

“Of course you are,” Wilde replied without missing a beat. “This place must be dreadfully dull without me to liven it up for you.”

Zolf rolled his eyes and headed upstairs.

Having read through Curie’s reports, the next day Zolf went back to Wilde’s cell with his heart in his mouth.

Naked inspections. It’s just one thing after another in this brave new fucking world, isn’t it, he thought, agitated.

The whole situation was ridiculous. What was he so worried about? After everything they’d been through there was a certain trust, an ease between them now. What was a bit of nudity in the face of all that?

He was only feeling nervy about it because he was sure that Wilde was going to be a dick about it, in his usual style. Getting under Zolf’s skin hadn’t stopped being a hobby of Wilde’s, and this whole situation set the stage for his insufferable needling.

Wilde stood quickly as Zolf entered. He’d changed out of the clothes he’d travelled to Hiroshima in, and was now wearing long dark pants and his favourite yukata, the one with green and pink floral pattern.

“I read through all the reports,” Zolf began.

“We might as well get this over with,” Wilde said at the same time, and then laughed a little manically.

Zolf took his seat, waited for Wilde to quiet, then continued. “Curie also recommended we start askin’ people to tell us stories of things that only the other would know. Code words aren’t enough because it’s more about how you do the retellin’ than it is about the information.” Wilde’s face relaxed at the notion of delaying what came next.

“I’ll get you to tell me about… tell me how you remember our first meetin’, then.” Zolf said. Since all the other people who were there are either dead or presumed dead, he didn’t want to add.

Wilde launched into an explanation of flaming notepads, blood noses, slipping into his storyteller shoes with relief. It was nice to listen to him perform, even if thinking about Hamid and Sasha was depressing.

“And,” Wilde wound up, “I just happened to linger by the door and overhear you mention something about my bum, of all things. Now, if you’ll do me the favour of telling what that was, and we can all move forward assured of each other’s memory, though probably not their integrity.”

Oh, curses. He hadn’t thought Wilde had still been around for those comments. He crossed his arms and frowned loudly.

“Come now Zolf, you’ve already said it, you can’t take it back now.” Exactly as Zolf had suspected, Wilde seemed to be delighting in causing Zolf discomfort once again, whilst he slipped back into his old, familiar smarm. Wilde wrapped his hands around the bars of the cell and bounced slightly on his toes.

“I said,” Zolf pinched the bridge of his nose. “I said it was very nice.” And he stood by it, but Wilde didn’t need to know that.

Wilde laughed, free and throaty, running his hand through his hair in a way that Zolf knew, if he had access to his magic, would be accompanied by a bawdy shimmer of sparkles. For a moment, things felt bright.

The energy snapped back. Wilde wasn’t performing for a party, he wasn’t needling Zolf for a laugh, he was locked up in a cell waiting to find out if he had an infection that would turn him into something unrecognizable and dangerous… Wilde dropped his hands from the adamantine, and the two of them fell silent.

“I can go get Barnes, if you’d prefer,” Zolf said with a useless gesture. Wilde was already shaking his head.

“What’s a bit of nudity between… friends.” Wilde asked, with a quizzical tilt of his head. His eyes were asking does friends really cover it anymore? Zolf didn’t have an answer.

Zolf didn’t know how to get this whole awkward scenario started, so he just waited, his mouth dry. There was something so grim in Wilde’s face, and Zolf didn’t understand. His obvious discomfort with the notion of watching Wilde undress should’ve delighted the man. It should have been ammunition.

As Wilde started on the ties of his yukata, for the briefest of moments, Zolf’s discomfort was replaced by a blistering anger at the absurdity of it all. All those moments he had wanted to be closer to Wilde, to touch his bare skin or to hold him… but he hadn’t asked for this. Between the two of them hung a nascent possibility. A possibility that Zolf was only just starting to acknowledge, and that deserved a chance to blossom.

That instead it should be forced to happen like this, through cell bars, was perversely unfair. To him. To Wilde. To the pair of them and all the ways that this could have been different.

Wilde paused, as if seeing the flash of anger in Zolf’s eyes. He spoke quietly, almost to himself. “Thinking about… hmph. The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” With that non sequitur, he disrobed, turning his body to drape the cloth over the cot.

As he turned back, Zolf was struck by a sudden realisation; he’d never seen Wilde with his shirt off. Never swum together, never seen him coming back from bathing with a towel around his waist. Even in the heat, Wilde always wore his shirt buttoned, his yukata firmly tied. Zolf swore he could see Wilde’s chest in his mind’s eye. It just made sense. Wilde had certainly seen Zolf’s chest; they’d been living in each other’s pockets for almost a year now and Zolf didn’t think much of it.

But no, because if he’d seen Wilde without the shirt, he would know that Wilde had a smattering of dark chest hair. And more scars on his torso than seemed right. The wounds from Douglas had torn two messy gashes near the ribs, and those scars were present as expected. But there were two more - slightly crescent shaped, uniform and well-healed - swooping across his chest just beneath flat nipples.

Surgical scars.

The air was knocked out of Zolf’s lungs. His body had grasped answers before his mind did. His thoughts felt sluggish, crawling, gasping to catch up, and when they did it was with the lurching realisation of just how unfair it was that they had been brought here, to this cell, to this grotesque scenario, against their will.

Wilde undid the drawstring of his pants and stepped out of them. Dark hair ran in a soft line from his navel down, fanning out to the triangle that dipped between his legs. His face was carefully blank, as he lifted his hands, palms up, in a sardonic “ta-dah” gesture.

Zolf was frozen inside his mind, as Wilde turned slowly on the spot.

He did have a fantastic arse, the perfect balance of muscular and plush, and once again Zolf was furious that any hint of eros in this had been utterly perverted.

Wilde turned back to face Zolf and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Zolf nodded again, his mouth dry. Wilde dressed, not rushed but efficient.

They sat in silence for a time.

“You never told me,” was all Zolf could think of to say.

“Fantastically witty and incisive commentary from one Zolf Smith, yet again,” Wilde said, voice like acrid smoke. Nothing made Wilde bite like losing the upper hand.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I jus’, I’ll go-” Zolf tried to walk and turn at the same time and knocked into the stool, clanging it down to the floor. He righted it with hands that shook and headed for the stairs.

“Zolf!” Wilde called after him. “You don’t have to leave.”

Well. That was as close to begging as Wilde ever got.

Zolf returned to his stool, and re-joined the silence. Wilde sat on the cot, watching the close wall of the cell with a face that Zolf recognised; it was one of Wilde’s favourite expressions, deliberately mild, open, waiting. It gave away nothing and invited everything. For Wilde, it was safety.

Other people, people who didn’t know Wilde as well, might take that as an invitation to speak. Zolf wasn’t other people. He thought about all the times he’d stumbled through something awkward, with good intentions but clumsy words. He had no idea how to proceed, other than it was probably wise to wait, and let Wilde find words first.

“Don’t feel bad about me not telling you.” Wilde said eventually. “It usually doesn’t come up, unless I’m sleeping with someone. Even then you’d be impressed at what can be achieved with creative use of props, dim lighting and a bit of magic.” He trailed his hand wistfully through the air, an impotent somatic component.

Zolf continued to wait, to leave the man space. Zolf wasn’t the one who’d been stripped, forced into a deeply personal disclosure without plan or intent.

“It’s not that I’m ashamed, you see. It's more… it feels like handing over a weapon, and I try to avoid that if I can. And well, I’m usually not in someone’s acquaintance long enough to feel bad about keeping it a secret.” There was an apology tucked between the words, and Zolf nodded even though Wilde wasn’t watching

He paused to run his thumb over the facial scarring, once, twice. “Bosie knew.”

Wilde let the silence stretch on long enough that Zolf felt like he had to speak or he would never stop thinking about skidding through Wilde’s blood on a cold stone floor. “You… you used to use your magic for it, righ’?”

Wilde barked out a harsh laugh. “Oh yes, for practically all of it! It was the reason I got so good at glamours! Back in Cairo I… I suspected that an anti-magic chamber or cuffs might halt the hexing, but I couldn’t, you see? I’d been doing it for so long. Everyone knew me as a man.” He shrugged, saying obviously with his shoulders. “I couldn’t go back.”

Zolf examined Wilde’s face. He was still carefully keeping his gaze on the cell wall. He still had that mild expression on his face, as though they discussed what to have for lunch, not one of the lowest points of his life. But he didn’t seem upset, so Zolf pressed on. “What happened?”

“Oh I…” he huffed a small laugh. “I got lucky. Turns out Grizzop already knew. I don’t think I reacted quite right when he punched me in the crotch.” Now something like genuine fondness crept into Wilde’s voice. “He suspected what might happen if I had to stop casting; he helped smooth things over. I was in no position to be fending for myself at that juncture, I had let the curse go on too long.” Wilde looked at his hands. “I will always be grateful to him.”

Wilde sounded like a man who knew, without a doubt, that the object of his gratitude was dead.

“Once it became clear the cuffs were going to become a permanent accessory, he set things up with the Cult of Aphrodite for me to have surgery and for them to supply the right potions. They have all the gear and know-how, of course. Not everyone in my position is a caster.”

Something else clicked in place for Zolf as he pondered the technicalities of non-magical surgery.

“Wait a minute. You were still recovering from that when we joined back up, weren’t you?”

Wilde’s brow crinkled as he considered timelines. “That’s right. Scarring needs to heal with almost no magical intervention, otherwise it’s back to square one. So it was… quite painful, to be quite honest. And compared to magical healing, the process drags on and on.”

Wilde smoothed a hand over his robe-clad chest. “I like it better this way now. No more binding my chest just in case, though I try to be careful about who sees the scars.” His voice was light, that faux-levelness starting to fade and he just, talked. Wilde was relieved, Zolf realised with a start. He wanted to tell Zolf about these things.

“It’s nice to just … be myself. Even at the end of day when I’m tired and can’t cast anymore.” And he finally looked at Zolf and smiled. Not a smirk or grin, just a completely open smile that welcomed Zolf into his joy instead of belittling or declaring victory with it. Even with the scar, sitting in a dim cell, he looked radiant.

As Zolf went to smile back, he felt his face wobble. This - Wilde smiling, confiding, being easy and honest with him - it was a better outcome than he could have hoped for. He felt the sudden bloom of Wilde’s smile in his chest, the warmth of the man’s trust.

But this was merely day one of seven, and it was still terrifyingly possible that the man who sat across from him was not Wilde at all. So Zolf’s smile twisted as it appeared on his face, and he didn’t reply, allowing them to lapse back into silence.

Day 2

“Wouldn’ it be- well not easier but less, I dunno- to just wait and do one inspection on the last day?” Zolf asked. He’d brought down breakfast and the paper, and they’d sat quietly as they ate; Wilde had finished eating and was starting on the motions of undressing.

“Zolf. My dear.” Wilde cocked his head in that patronising way that he did when he thought Zolf had said something legitimately dumb. “If I am reading your intentions correctly, your plan for the week is to eschew all your other jobs to waste away at my door-” Zolf opened his mouth to argue and Wilde simply raised his voice and pressed on “-not that I am complaining, but if you truly are going to while away the days with me, and then on the final day, you find out I have been infected the whole time and have to kill me, how, pray tell, is that going to make you feel?”

Zolf snapped his mouth shut.

“Wouldn’t you rather know as soon as it comes up?” Wilde pointed out, frustratingly reasonable.

Zolf simply wanted to throw the cell doors open because there didn’t seem any possibility that the man behind the bars was anything other than 100% pure, vexatious Oscar Wilde, but he stilled his twitching hand. Wilde’s question was to remain unanswered as Zolf simply gestured go on then and Wilde, with a grim, self-satisfied nod, started to strip.

Day 3

“No, don’tcha see, if Jennifer had gone to Antony in the garden, her mother would have known from the get-go-”

“But I simply don’t see how Alianne knowing would have improved things for Jennifer-”

“She was supportive, she could’ve helped smooth things over when Antony’s sister started her meddlin’, and they could have wrapped the whole thing up before supper!”

“Yes, but where is the fun in that, Zolf?”

Day 4

As Wilde dispassionately disrobed for a fourth time, Zolf realised there was now a familiarity to Wilde’s naked body, and that was jarring.

He wasn’t lanky, not really, but Zolf couldn’t help but think of most humans that way. The truth was he was solid enough in build, surprisingly muscular for a man who mostly rode a desk. His legs and arse especially were firm with it. He does a lot of walking about the village, I s’pose.

Zolf watched Wilde turn on the spot and he longed to trace the shape of Wilde’s shoulders, cup his ass, rub my damn nose in that soft lookin’ chest hair and…

Zolf ground his teeth against the wrongness of it all.

He thought of slipping his hands between Wilde’s legs, and though the shape of the fantasy had changed, the intensity had not.

It had been a long time since Zolf had felt a physical or sexual attraction like this, and the fact that it was at the most inconvenient time, and the most unlikely person, was enough to make him think he’d made a mistake breaking ties with Poseidon. Maybe if he hadn’t eschewed divine favour, he would have been protected from whatever trickster god had decided to throw this at him.

He kept his hands in his pockets so that Wilde wouldn’t see him clench his fists.

Maybe I should offer to strip too. At least that would put us on an equally horrible footing, Zolf mused.

Wilde dressed and turned back to look at Zolf with careful, watchful eyes. Wilde was in the business of reading even the most inscrutable enemies like a book, and at this point he had a thorough translation guide for Zolf. He knew it bothered the dwarf. The fact that Wilde hadn’t made a bunch of lewd comments was probably his idea of a kindness, but the absence of Wilde’s typical peacocking it somehow made it worse.

When he looked at him like that, it made Zolf feel like he was the one in the cell.

Zolf cleared his throat. “Got a new crossword book if you like?”

Day 5

“Pawn to E4.”

A chess board sat on a small table just outside the cell. Zolf moved the white pawn for Wilde then took his own move.

“Knight to G3.” Wilde said in a bored tone. He’d voted for bridge, but Zolf had talked him out of it. Too difficult to wrangle cards between the cell’s bars and mesh, he’d pointed out. Which was true, but what was also true was that Wilde was surprisingly bad at chess (it was much easier to cheat in cards).

Whilst Zolf did feel sympathy for Wilde, things weren’t so bad that Zolf wasn’t going to relish the opportunity to beat him at something for a change.

Day 6

Each day Wilde got closer to being comfortable with the inspections. Closer but not there. Half a lifetime of needing to be guarded about who saw your body created some strong foundational habits. That foundation wasn’t going to be eroded in seven days, regardless of how much you trusted the person who saw you.

But still, it could have been worse. Zolf shuddered to think what would have happened if this situation had been thrust on them a year ago. Their friendship, tenuous as it was, might not have been able to survive.

Dressing again, Wilde stretched the kinks out of neck. “I cannot wait to get out of here and have a proper bath and a nice long walk.”

“Nearly there.” Zolf said absently. He’d stopped needing to worry every second moment that Wilde was infected. Even though they’d been dealing with it all with distractions, with laughter, with pretending like it wasn’t happening, Zolf felt the sudden urge to be honest.

“I’m sorry that… that it happened like this. That you didn’t get a choice in tellin’ me about...” Your past? Your journey? Your truth? “…Everythin’.”

Wilde made a face of surprise, but instead of deflecting the offer of an honest conversation, he accepted. “Me too. I intended to, but as I said. I’m rarely… close enough with someone that I feel they deserve it. I wish-” Wilde paused, considering his next words, and what other weapons he might be handing over, deeply. “I wish that the circumstances had been different.”

Zolf could just ask what he meant. He could. It was practically an invitation for him to press, to force Wilde to clarify exactly under what circumstance he’d envisioned sharing secrets about his body with Zolf… but he didn’t.

Inside Zolf, uneasy guilt gnawed at him. The circumstances they had were only these ones. Wilde was vulnerable, caged, and thoroughly without a choice; but Zolf knew there were moments he’d chosen to ignore those elements. He knew, deep in his guilty core, he had been inspecting far more than he had the right. It didn’t feel honourable to press Wilde any further after that.

“Yeah.” Zolf stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Wilde. Last day ‘n all.”

Day 7

“It would have been too much to hope that the bloody sun would come out for this, wouldn’t it,” Wilde grumbled.

Freshly released, he was pondering umbrella selection in the entry hall.

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to come with,” Zolf ventured. Wilde had come out of his quarantine cheerful enough, but there was something understandably off about him; something distant and a little contemplative. Zolf had been half-expecting, or even hoping for, one of Wilde’s warm shoulder-touches. But he had kept his hands firmly to himself.

Wilde looked up, mouth twisted wryly. “I think I’ll be fine.” He hesitated, as he always did before saying something sincere. “I do appreciate what you’ve done for me this week, Zolf, but I could use a little space.”

Zolf nodded. He’d expected as much.

Inside him, the guilt twisted a little, the word violator rising in his mind. No. Neither of them had chosen anything about this situation. If anything, their connection felt even stronger for having been through the wringer, yet again. Whatever liberties Zolf accused himself of taking, it wasn’t enough to dent that.

We’re alright. Zolf thought.

We’ll be alright. I think we both could use a little time, is all.

Wilde selected the green umbrella, gave Zolf a tentative smile, and headed out into the rain.

#hank writes #rusty quill gaming #rqg #zoscar #zolf smith #rqg oscar wilde #rusty quill fan fic #Additional notes; zolf IS looking disrespectfully #zolfwilde

[zeni-chu]

Warmth

Zenitsu Agatsuma x Reader

A/N: this is entirely self-indulgent 😂 I love him so much and I get cold rly easily myself so I couldn’t help myself 😌

Pairing: Zenitsu Agatsuma x Reader

Warnings: None rly!

Words: 1900 

The blizzard winds howled as the sky powdered the earth with little white flakes of frost, chilling you to the bone. Your hands tightly gripped your arms as you cross them over your shivering frame, trying to hold in whatever body heat you had left. Walking beside you was your comrade and best friend Zenitsu, the two of you had been sent on a mission to a village high in the mountains. His teeth chattered as he too wrapped his arms around himself to keep himself warm however he could. The coats the two of you had brought gave you a bit of warmth but did little to block out the piercing cold of the icy storm. You were always one to get cold easily, so the situation you had found yourself in was hell, seeing as you were absolutely positive there was going to be no way you’d be able to get any sort of warmth on this journey.

“Th-this sucks! We’re going to freeze to death out here!” He whined, a panicked undertone to his words. You half agreed internally, yet kept your thought to yourself as you attempted to respond in a way that would calm his worries, “I think we should find shelter and wait out the blizzard!” Having to raise your voice to be heard above the storm, your throat stung from the cold air you were sure was in the negative temperatures. You received only an eager nod in response, turning your gaze to scan the area around you for any semblance of a shelter. Your eyes landed on what looked to be a sort of cave in the side of the mountain you were ascending, pointing towards it with hope, “There! Come on Zenitsu let’s hurry!” You grabbed his hand to tug him towards the cave causing him to blink in surprise and pushed down the pink that dusted his cheeks to focus on following you.

Shuffling hurriedly through the deep snow, the two of you stepped through the mouth of the cave, pushing forward to the back wall to put distance between you and the blizzard. Your breath puffed in clouds but the lack of strong winds and falling snow was a welcome change.

After catching your breath you decided to build a fire using the sticks you had packed in your bag. “You brought firewood with you?” Zenitsu broke the silence with a curious tone.

“Well, yea. I knew we wouldn’t make it to the village in one day, and it’s on a snowy mountain,” you stated in a matter-of-fact way, “I decided to play it safe and bring some stuff with me in case anything were to happen. And lo-and-behold!” Ending with a slight smile, you struck sparks onto the patch of kindling, gently blowing on the small flames to help them grow. Placing the kindling under the firewood and making sure they stayed lit, you sat back with crossed legs and moved your bag to the side to give yourself room, all the while honey-colored eyes watched your every move subconsciously. As you shivered and warmed your hands against the flame you felt his gaze and looked up to match it, casting him a smile that warmed his cheeks. He looked away bashfully as he too and held up his hands to the fire, not a sound between the two of you other than the howling winds and crackling firewood. The silence between the two demon slayers left Zenitsu to his thoughts, all of which seemed to wander to (Y/N). The way your contagious smile could brighten his mood to matter what, the way your angelic laugh made his heart squeeze, the way you never ran out of patience for the boy and his antics, the way kindness seemed to drip from your very being; everything about you was absolutely infatuating to him.

“Zenitsu?” The boy was dragged out of his thoughts by your call, concern lacing your tone.

“Y-yes?”

A soft sigh made its way past your lips, which curved upwards in a gentle manner, never once losing your seemingly endless patience. “I said I’m going to try to get some rest, silly. Are you okay?” (Y/N) leaned forward and put the back on their hand on their partner’s forehead, “You feel a bit warm, did you catch a cold?”

The blonde-haired boy gasped and quickly leaned backwards, his blush deepening to a cherry-red and his hands shooting up to frantically wave off your concern, “N-No! I’m fine, really!! You don’t have to worry, just get some rest!”

A small chuckle escaped you and you leaned back as you agreed and unpacked your belongings for the night. With your futon rolled out and bedding set up you turned to Zenitsu whose face was still basically steaming as he stared intently at his hands still being warmed, “Hey Zenitsu,” you called out hesitantly, “Can... Um, c-can you turn around for a bit please? I want to change into my yukata so I can sleep.”

“Oh! Y-yea! Of course!” Whipping around to face the rock wall, he desperately tried to focus on anything but the sound of fabric falling to the ground as you undressed. Slipping on the sleepwear, you turned around to let him know you were done. “I’m done now, Zenitsu. Thank you!” Mumbling a response he turned back around to face the only source of heat in the hollow as you crawled under the covers of your bed. Before you could close your eyes, you realized something that made you sit up and stare at the boy sitting across from you with furrowed brows, earning a confused look from him.

“Hey, Zenitsu, did you bring your futon?” You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, and eventually, with a stroke of horror he realized he hadn’t brought it with him and let out a scream, his hands gripping his head and tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“I didn’t!! I thought we would’ve gotten to the village by now so I didn’t think I’d need to!! I’m going to freeze to death out here! I’m going to freeze to death and it’s all my fault!”

“Sleep with me.”

His frantic cries stopped as your words processed through his brain. Immediately a blush so bright it was nearly glowing flushed over his face, ears and neck as you too blush at your misconstrued statement, “N-not like that of course! I just thought, well, since I’m the only one who brought a mattress and I don’t want you to freeze... You could sleep next to me..? There’s enough room...” Your voice trailed off near the end of your sentence, muttering under your breath, but Zenitsu heard. He heard every word, and with every word he grew impossibly redder and his heart rate sped up.

“You don’t have to right now, think about it for a while if you need to.” Your restful tone and tender smile certainly wasn’t helping the boy calm down.

‘Sleep!? With (Y/N)!? They’re okay with that!?’ he thought to himself, ‘They actually care about me enough to do that?’ Of course he knew that you cared about him, but he had his doubts and insecurities that he struggled with. The fact that you had been so willingly open about being concerned for his wellbeing threw the butterflies in his stomach into a fit. Removing his shoes and belt that carried his katana as quietly as possible, he decided that he’d rather nearly have a heart attack lying next to his crush than freeze to death as he padded across the cold cave floor. Gulping, he crouched next to your sleeping form, your back facing him. Swallowing his anxiety and embarrassment, he silently slid into bed next to you covering himself with the blanket while making sure you had more than enough for yourself. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment while he struggled to calm his racing pulse but quickly snapped open as he heard the one next to him shift around to face him. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, but somehow you were even more beautiful in the warm light cast on your features from the still burning fire that burned behind him.

You smiled sweetly, “Thank you Zen, I was worried about you.” 

The nickname you had given him made his heart flutter, ‘I should be the one thanking you,’ before he could respond you shivered and pulled the blankets draped over you closer, attempting to draw in the small amount of heat your body had created. Getting cold easily was already annoying to deal with, but being stranded in a cave with a raging blizzard outside really looks you in the eye and gives you a big ‘Fuck You.’ Even though you had started a fire and were swamped in the blanket you had brought with you, you still struggled to generate enough body heat to keep yourself warm.

He frowned, seeing you unhappy and shivering cold made him hurt, he had to think of a way to help. Taking a deep breath to steady himself he shakily drew you into his arms, swathing you in his haori and the blankets. You gasped as your face heated and your heart skipped a beat, “Zenitsu?” you questioned. “Y-you were cold and you offered to share this bed with me and s-so I wanted to keep you warm!” You could see the nervousness behind his golden eyes and couldn’t help your lips curving upward, he was too cute for his own good. The smile was sweet and held an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, “Thank you,” you whispered in a tone that dripped of affection.

“Of course... I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable. I-If I am I can move-” you cut him off by snuggling closer into his chest and giving a soft sigh, finding comfort in his scent, “Can we stay like this?” you spoke timidly, your voice barely above a whisper. He froze, if his hearing weren’t so great he would swear he misunderstood. You want to stay cuddling with Him? Of course it’s not like he would turn down the request, he would stay like this with you in his arms forever if he could. It was simply the fact that You, (Y/N), the most incredible, beautiful, kind, and lovely person he had ever met, enjoyed laying in his arms breathing in his scent.

“Yea...” his tone grew faint, “Yea we can stay like this,” finally answering, his pounding heart slowing ever so slightly as he relaxed. It was as though you were made for him, your frame fit so perfectly in his arms. His haori was just the right size to hold you in. This moment was just so perfect. You were so perfect.

“Hey Zen?” You broke the comfortable silence briefly, mumbling sleepy words. “Yes, (Y/N)?” he replied meekly. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Zenitsu smiled and looked down at you laying against his chest to reply only for his heart to swell with warmth as he found you fast asleep curled into him. Instead of replying, he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and snuggled closer, closing his eyes. 

Suddenly the storm outside didn’t seem cold anymore.

#was this self indulgent? #yes. #do i regret it? #no! #i love this boy too much #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #zenitsu x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #zenitsu agatsuma #reader insert #constructive critism welcome #my words

[lofitowns]

fireworks - mammon

❝ I OFTEN THINK THE NIGHT IS MORE ALIVE AND RICHLY COLORED THAN THE DAY ❞

in which a certain white-haired demon keeps pulling you away from his brothers (gn! reader)

         fandom ; obey me!

         word count ; 2085

         warnings ; n/a

         (y/n) - your name 

this is based on the recent summer festival event :) i love mammon with my whole heart

this isn’t the best thing i’ve ever written, considering i haven’t written in a while, but i hope you like it! it’s my first time writing for obey me, so i hope i did alright. i tried hard to find mistakes, but if i missed any, don’t hesitate to tell me!

     You couldn’t contain your excitement as your feet hit the pavement and lights danced in your vision. It had been a while since you had been to a proper festival. 

     You walked past countless booths, each one seeming more incredible than the last. The games didn’t look all that different from the ones you had in the human world, which surprised you. There was buttery popcorn and sickly sweet candy, the smells were intoxicating.

     Mammon, the ever spirited boy, was jumping around. The smile on his face was one of radiance, you wished it would stay like that forever. It nearly brought you to tears. 

     “I’m so psyched!” He exclaimed, tugging on your sleeve with a faint blush on his cheeks. You heard Beel’s deep laugh behind you, “We haven’t even started yet, and he’s already fired up!”

     Once your booth was set up, each of the boys was beaming at their handiwork. It was nice to see them all working together for a change.

     Lucifer explained the outline of the evening. You would all rotate between cooking and selling based on the lots you drew earlier. There would be two cooks and two salespeople while everyone else was free to wander the festival. 

     According to this system, you’d be selling first alongside Mammon. You felt a sort of tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach as your lips quirked up.

     Ever since you arrived at the House of Lamentations, you felt the closest to the white-haired demon. He made you feel safe and comfortable. He was your first after all, and he never failed to remind anyone and everyone. His brothers always teased him because of this, but you didn’t mind. You thought it was cute.

     “I guess you and me are up first for sellin’, (y/n). Think ya can manage?” Mammon questioned, moving so he stood behind the counter.

     “You can count on me!” You assured him, even if you were a bit nervous. You had never done anything like this up in the human world, but the only way to learn was to do.

     He let out a soft chuckle, “That’s what I like to hear!”

     It didn’t take long for a few customers to walk by, stopping to gaze at the bright pink sign Asmo had painted. You had suggested making it stand out, to which he wholeheartedly agreed. 

     “Welcome!” Mammon greeted, drawing out the second part of the word, “How about a deliciously sweet candy apple? The sugar coating’s crunchy, and we use only the freshest apples!” His words seemed to draw people in. He had always been charismatic, it seemed almost second nature to him.

     The couple nodded, placing an order for two apples. 

     “Way to go!” You complimented him with a smile after handing the two their orders. 

     “What, are you in awe of the Great Mammon’s sales skills?” A scoff left your lips, “I ain’t gonna lose to anyone when it comes to stuff like this!”

     It was mere moments before another demon stopped in front of your booth. Mammon shoved you forwards, “You’re up next, (y/n)!” 

     You took a deep breath and greeted him, leaning over the counter, “Hey, handsome!” That sure got his attention, “Come try out glossy candy apples!” You finished it off with a big smile.

     “That’s it! And here’s two for you, sir! Please come again!” Mammon handed over the apples before turning back to you, “You nailed it!”

     It went on like that for a while, you and Mammon would take turns trying to lure in customers. After a while, it seemed to come naturally and you were almost sold out.

     Lucifer came forwards to let the two of you off on a break, meaning your shift was halfway over.

     “Here, have a drink. You’ve earned it,” The white-haired demon’s hand outstretched to you, holding a small paper cup.

     Both of you took a drink, you using the opportunity to take in the figure in front of you. While you always thought he looked handsome, he looked especially so tonight. The lights cast by the red and white lanterns gave his smile a glow that felt, ironically, heavenly. The gold, white, and red colors of his yukata were vibrant against his tanned skin, making you almost drool.

     “You did pretty well,” He spoke, breaking you out of your trance.

     “Thanks to you, Mammon.”

     Your words brought a bright blush to his cheeks, you had to hold back your laughter. He was so easy to fluster, it was adorable.

     “Wh-What’s with the cute act? You lookin’ for a kiss?”

     It was your turn to turn red. You could feel your face heating up, flowing to the tips of your ears. Your eyes danced with mirth, taking a step closer to him.

     “Yep.”

     His eyes widened, it seemed like he thought you would have said no. “Fine! But only because ya want it so bad,” He tried to play it off, but his face had definitely gotten redder.

     It seemed like he was going agonizingly slow, waiting for you to back up if this was a joke. You reached your hand up, placing it softly on his face. He nuzzled his nose into it.

     Your lips pressed against each other’s soon after. They were a bit chapped and tasted like the candy coating of your apples. What were mere seconds felt like an eternity. You always felt like time stopped when you were this close to him.

     His eyes were still closed when you pulled back, the red still evident on his face. A soft sigh fell from his lips when he opened them and smiled. The two of you held each other’s gaze for a few moments before he broke the comfortable silence.

     “Okay, I’ve got my pep back! Rest up, then let’s go sell some more apples!”

     The pair of you worked in sync, one greeting and taking Grimm while the other handed apples out.

     “Mammon, (y/n), it’s almost time to switch,” Lucifer finally announced, causing you to turn your gaze over to him.

     “Finally! I’m exhausted,” The demon next to you let out a huff, reaching his arms up and arching his back as he stretched.

   -----

     You didn’t see much of Mammon until all the candy apples sold out. After that, you had to take your booth down, it felt like you had only just put it up. The night was going by so fast!

     With all the brothers finally free, you took the opportunity to walk around with them. It was a struggle to try and keep up with how energetic Mammon was. He would often take your hand, trying to lead you off somewhere else but the rest of them were always close behind. They weren’t about to leave you alone with him of all people.

     When music filled the air, you were all drawn to a small plaza filled with people dancing. You watched in awe at the couples twirling and laughing, it seemed like they were having a great time.

     You reached over, grabbing Mammon’s hand, “Come on!” You laughed, a smile gracing your lips. 

     He happily agreed, holding onto you tight so you wouldn’t slip away.

     Mammon switched between twirling you around and holding you close, but he never once let your hand go. As he looked down at you with those cobalt eyes, you felt like you two were the only people in the world.

     Every so often, his brothers would try to cut in, claiming it was their turn with the human! He was hogging them! Mammon would swiftly pull you away, shaking his head at them and sticking his tongue out. This caused you to laugh, setting your forehead on his shoulder.

     The two of you ended up gently swaying, his right hand rubbing up and down your back while his left held your hand in his. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it again, looking away while his face flushed red once more.

     “What is it?” You inquired, reaching your hand up to brush away the bangs that fell over his eyes.

     “I... I was just gonna say ya look really... Nice right now.”

     A genuine smile grew on your face, letting your hand drag down his cheek. “I think you look incredibly nice right now.” He finally gained the courage to look at you, a bright grin growing on his lips.

     “Of course ya think I do! I am the Great Mammon after all!”

     You laughed as he returned to his normal self. You leaned up, rubbing your nose into his cheek, placing a soft kiss on it.

     “H-Hey! What do you think you’re doin’?” He stuttered out but none the less, he brought you closer.

     “Ah, it’s almost time for the fireworks...” You heard Lucifer comment, causing you to pull from Mammon’s embrace. 

     “Oh, that’s right! Hey, (y/n)! Come with me. I know a great spot for watching the fireworks!” Mammon took your hand in his once more, starting to pull you off in a direction opposite his brothers.

     It wasn’t long before you heard your name being shouted behind you, but you were too giddy to care. Voicing your curiosity, you asked Mammon where he was taking you.

     He answered with a simple smile, quickening his pace.

     The scene in front of you was striking. He tugged you up a hill which overlooked the whole festival. The fireworks started soaring off into the sky as you took a seat next to your demon.

     Your eyes filled with wonder and amazement as you took in all the lights, colors, and smells in front of you. “Wow, Mammon.”

     “Yeah, pretty, ain’t it! I knew you’d like it, I am your first man after all!” He grinned, proud of himself.

     “Yeah, you are,” With that, you wrapped your arms around his waist, nudging his arm over your shoulders. 

     There was an undeniable heat radiating off of him, fueling the redness in both of your cheeks.

     The lights danced in the sky, letting off sparks of red and green and yellow. 

     Mammon turned his head, raising a hand to grab your chin. He tilted your head to the side so you were facing him.

     The look of utter admiration in his eyes was enough to give you butterflies. The tickling in your stomach increased every second he looked at you, you felt like your heart might beat out of your chest. You had never had anyone look at you quite like this before.

    “Can I... Can I kiss ya?” His voice was soft as velvet, searching your face for any kind of hesitation. You had never had anyone care this much about you either.

     Your words were stuck in your throat, so you simply nodded.

     His touch on your cheek was tender as you watched his eyes flutter shut. You were in the process of shutting yours when you heard loud voices and rushed footsteps. A soft growl left Mammon as he pulled back.

     “They’re up here, I know it!” Levi exclaimed, scrambling up the hill.

     “Mammon! You can’t just take the human off like that! You’ve had them enough today!” Asmo cried as the six demons came into view.

     You turned your head to look at the brothers and, suddenly, your quiet filled with the sound of raised voices.

     “Come now, Mammon. You know you can’t have them for yourself.”

     “That’s not fair!”

     “Hey! They wanted to be here with me!”

     "Yeah, right!"

     You sighed, shaking your head as you grew tired of their silly fight. It could be annoying, but it's not like you had seven cute guys fighting for your affection in the human world.

     “How about we all watch them together?” You suggested, looking from one brother to the next.

     It took a few moments for them to process what you said.

     Mammon was the first to speak, grumbling, but in agreement. “Alright, fine. If that’s what my human wants.”

     You weren’t sure how much of the firework show was left, but you were okay spending it with all of them. You’d have to get your kiss later.

     Seven bodies surrounded you, Mammon to your right, and Belphie snuggling up to you on the left. You took a look at all of them, smiling to yourself contentedly. 

     Mammon was sulking next to you, not at all happy that his time with you had been interrupted. You reached your hand over, lacing your fingers with his, giving his hand a light squeeze. He looked down at you, his eyes immediately softening.

     You leaned up, pressing your lips against his chin.

     “Hey! Wait! That’s not fair!”

thank you for reading :) have a good day!

#gracewrites #gwom #obey me #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #mammon imagines #mammon x mc #om #obey me mammon x reader #fluff #writing #mine #imagines

[dudeandduchess]

Giyuu x F!S/O: A Nightmare Come to Life (Angst, NSFW Scenario)

Summary: A one-sided love that turns even more tragic after a night spent together. Note: @biznichwrites and I are trying out an alternate reality collab fic, and this is the result. We have the same first half (which she wrote), and we divert into different endings. In Biz’s words, think of it as Yin and Yang. You can read Biz’s fluff-filled piece here. Word Count: 9,324

***

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Suicide, Depictions of Blood, Character Deaths, Love Triangles, Talks of the Afterlife

She had filled her head with pretty lies, thoughts of soft, fluffy things that tickled her stomach like butterflies. The sight of one of the few other water breath users - the pillar, in fact - brought a smile to her face. He was perfect for the role - eyes as blue as the ocean, steady like the waves, strong like a deep current, carving his own path like a river, yet calm like the water's surface at night.

What started as infatuation became a crush, leaving her whole world centered around him. Inside she knew she wouldn't grab his attention, even if she was one of a handful of slayers at the water estate. Their rarity made them all busy on missions, there wasn't much time to see each other in passing, so she treasured every moment spent in Giyuu's presence.

Despite their schedules, she tried to do more for him. The maintenance he had performed almost single handedly was spread among the both of them. Mending his uniforms when they were damaged, even his beloved haori once. Salmon was always stocked once she figured out it was his favorite, even going as far as to cook it just as he liked. That was a mistake on her part - his glowing smile pulled her in deeper.

Still she felt her heart ache over the months. No matter what she did he never spoke a word to her, not that he really spoke to anyone else. Had she done something to make him hate her?

The day she had given up on his heart came shortly after. It wasn't often she needed help or saving, but a lower moon was a bit beyond her hope to slay. She had kept neck and neck with it for some time, praying that a pillar would arrive to slay it before it ate her. Like written from a bad romance novel, her Pillar came just as she felt weak after hours of battling, his blade cutting through the neck of the lower moon with ease.

Her knight in shining armor, so to speak. He came to save her, specifically him. Her heart fluttered in joy, tears gathering in her eyes. Maybe he would be impressed that she managed to last so long, to stay alive and keep the moon busy until someone stronger arrived. Her breath hitched as she heard him inhale, as if to speak.

"He wasn't much trouble, you should have been able to slay him. If you're weak you should know not to challenge a moon." He hadn't spared a glance her way, simply flicking his sword to clear it of blood before sheathing it. Her heart broke as he walked on, leaving her to watch the mismatched haori on his back as the distance between them grew.

"Giyuu, you should try to get close to others! I know it's scary but there's plenty of people out there that are nicer than the way Shinobu makes it seem." Tanjirou smiled at the elder water slayer, urging Giyuu to connect to others the way they had, at the very least.

"I'm not sure about that. People don't like me." Giyuu sat with his legs pulled up by the bank of the river they stopped at.

"All you can do is try! Didn't you want to become friends with Sanemi?" Tanjirou wasn't going to let Giyuu escape this time, even if it meant some friendly pestering.

"Yeah, I think he likes ohagi so I was going to give him some." Giyuu stared into the distance, trying to imagine the violent man attempting to receive a gift.

"What about (Y/N)? She's been nice!" Tanjirou was hoping to point out anyone who had been kind to the pillar, at least someone who wasn't filled with malice.

"Who?" Giyuu's face went blank at the name, unable to recall who the name was attached to. "I quit remembering names of most slayers since they die so fast."

Tanjirou deflated at that, finding it sad for Giyuu to view life in such a bleak manner. It felt him grasping at straws to find the correct words to express himself as he thought of what to say next.

"You remembered me before I was a slayer! She survived a solo fight with a lower moon, I don't think she's dying any time soon, you know." Tanjirou hoped the other would understand what he was saying, at the very least.

"Oh… She didn't beat the moon, though." Giyuu, like a child that was done with the conversation, drew idly in the sand below them with a stick.

"Well we can work on the ohagi for Sanemi, how about that?"

Giyuu thought of the girl Tanjirou had mentioned. He didn't know what to make of it all - she had survived, which is what he was looking for in a friend, but she wouldn't have without help. At the same time neither would have Tanjirou. Perhaps he was being too critical, she was still alive and kicking to this day.

However he hadn't seen her much since then. Maybe she was training more? That was enough of an explanation for him. It wasn't unusual for the entire water estate to be empty with as few of the water breath users completed the final selection, much less survived long enough to rank high enough to live in the estate.

The next time he saw her, presumably after a mission as she was returning at dawn, he recognized her more than just a name. He bit his tongue, unsure what to say as he stood on the engawa staring at her tired body limping closer. The moment her eyes caught his she glanced away, turning towards another part of the estate to rest in.

He would have questioned it more, but occurrences like this weren't uncommon. People avoided him, that was normal. Yet the way she kept herself at a distance made him want to find out why she did such a thing. Why did she hide away from him?

His breath caught in his throat one morning, watching as she sat on the far end of the engawa in a simple yukata. She must be getting ready to sleep, given most slayers were nocturnal, but he thought she looked nice in the morning sun. Pretty even.

Months dragged along, her eyes never meeting his own. Yet he felt himself drawn to her. All the actions she had taken before - he hadn't forgotten them, but he hadn't fully appreciated them at the time either. She had done something for him without being asked with nothing in return. Someone that selfless couldn't be a bad person. He still felt a bit bitter with himself for being so critical with her, the same he felt with Tanjirou. Neither deserved that.

It wasn't until Murata and a few others had saved up a large sum of money to buy enough alcohol to drown all the demon slayers, that he had a chance to interact with her. The whole time he was tense, almost awkwardly staring at her the whole time.

"Earth to Giyuu, you there?" Really, Murata was the only one that talked to the pillar so freely, with the exception of Tanjirou. Having kept the pillar alive at one point gave him a bit of the right, so no one spoke of it.

"Hm?" Giyuu's head turned back to Murata, clearly not aware of anything he had just said.

"I was seeing if you were going to drink with us. We're celebrating a year of not losing any water breath users. I figured of anyone you'd want to join." Murata handed him a bottle, not really waiting for a response. Was it responsible for a pillar to drink? Not at all. Had they organized this with Kagaya in mind? Of course, they had consulted with him to make sure they could celebrate freely.

Giyuu stared at the bottle then back to Murata, eyes flickering between the two. "I've never drank before…"

"Now is a good time to start!" Murata laughed with a pat to the pillar shoulder before disappearing into a small bunch of slayers.

Giyuu had drank nearly half the bottle in the course of a few hours, but he didn't find himself relaxed. Rather he found himself in a flurry of emotions - sad remembering everyone he's lost, angry with himself for allowing his life to be ruined by both demons and his own mismanagement of his emotions, but most surprising of all he found himself jealous.

The only female slayer of the bunch was flirted with endlessly. Most of the less than classy lines were met by laughter by the slayers. He knew they were treating it as a joke, even when she pretended to be the man hitting on Murata pretending to be a woman, but he didn't like it. He rested knowing that it was all in fun, though.

His drunken eyes met hers, making her already flushed cheeks even more red than previously before she glanced away. He was happy she was mindful to wear hakama, least the drunk young men around them get any ideas.

"Murataaaaa, when are you gonna get a wife? You keep talking about settling down but you're doing a shit job at it." Her laughter was kind enough, even if she was poking fun.

"(Y/N)! You know I-I-I---! I'm trying! It's just difficult!" Murata floundered under the playful scrutiny before returning a rebuttal, "So when are you getting married (Y/N)?"

"You know I'm dying alone, don't ask dumb questions." She laughed, but the laughter joining her was awkward, quiet and confused. Technically she could pick any slayer and they'd say yes - just for a lack of women around them, especially ones that understood the nature of their jobs. A moment passed but no further comments or banter had been added to the conversation after her bleak comment. Her face heated realizing she had made a fool of herself, not that Murata was much better as he fumbled moving the conversation forward.

Giyuu watched as she tilted up the porcelain of her heated sake, taking in how her throat contracted as she gulped. Was it proper for her to drink like that? No. But it technically wasn't traditional for women to wield swords and hunt demons, so it wasn't like social protocol meant much to her anyway.

Almost silently she slipped away, padding over to her room at the far end of the estate. His eyes followed her movements, taking in the dejected way she looked. Was she broken-hearted? He didn't understand why, she was pretty in her own way, stronger than most gave her credit for, smart enough to stay alive. Maybe he was more fond of her than he let on.

After some time the men grew rowdy, playing games and raising their voices. Murata seemed to stop drinking after a certain point, clearly aware of his limits.

"Murata?" Said slayer turned his attention to Giyuu, almost surprised that he spoke. "Is there something wrong with (Y/N)? She left a bit ago."

"Oh… I made a mistake and brought up something I shouldn't have, she's probably just having some time to herself." Murata prayed the Pillar didn't press for more info, being one of the few she admitted the situation to. He was far too drunk to stop himself from slipping up.

"Is she sad?" The lower ranked slayer blinked at the question, taken aback at how simple it was.

"Yeah, she just has her ways of dealing with it - wait! Where are you going?" Giyuu stood, moving toward the woman's room without another word. Murata prayed it didn't make things worse.

The pillar stood outside her door, listening as her crying was muffled into hitched breaths and harsh inhales to quiet herself. He wasn't sure what he was doing with the alcohol in his system, but he slowly pushed the shoji open and closed it quietly behind him.

"Is there something wrong?" He was trying to be nice but the jump of surprise from her was clearly not the reaction he was searching for. Her hand rested above her heart in surprise before gripping the cloth in anguish.

"I'm fine. You can go back to the others." Her head tilted away, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm sure Murata didn't mean to upset you. Did something happen? Did you lose your fiancé?" It was the only explanation he could rationalize why she wouldn't take a spouse when she had her choice of men flirting with her earlier.

"I said I'm fine. Leave me alone." She flopped back down on her futon, facing away from him. He wished she didn't look so pretty or the light of the moon didn't accentuate the curves of her waist and hips. Despite her words he never left, she knew at the lack of sound her shoji made when open and shut.

Rather he shuffled closer, nowhere near as elegant as he usually moved. Still he slid his fingers into her hair, finding himself rationalizing the feel of her hair with the need to soothe her.

"I'm sure you could find a husband in the slayers if you're worried about that." He didn't like it, especially the thought of not being able to freely look at her and the risk of never being able to touch her again.

"I said my plan was to die alone, it's not that complicated."

"Why?"

"Men don't want a woman like me." Her words croaked from her throat and he could help but sink into the futon and pull her back to his chest. His nose was pressed to the back of her hair and he could bask in her scent.

"That's not true." The more of her he got, the greedier he became. He wanted to remind her that the other water breath users would marry her, but she clearly wasn't interested.

"You don't know that." He felt her back trembling as she held back her distress and he hugged her closer. "I'm covered in scars, I can barely fight and I'm a pitiful slayer, I don't have anything to my name but what I wear, I'm not pretty and dainty like other girls-"

Her hands covered her mouth. She was complaining to the very person that filled her with insecurities. Deep inside she wanted to hate him, but she couldn't. It didn't mean she wasn't bitter. Her love for him had soured, painting her into a corner of self-depreciation. She knew this wasn't him, this was some drunken version of the man likely looking to have a piece of her.

For what it was worth, she would let him. At least it would be the final chapter to the broken heart saga of her life.

"None of that is true."

"I don't need lies to make me feel better."

He was growing a bit frustrated. His hand gripped her waist, both keeping her still and holding her to him. He was painfully aware he could slide his hands lower to grip the curve of her hips or slide his hands upward to cup her breasts.

"You're pretty. A good slayer. You're good as you are." He couldn't think of anything more grand to say, not that he was eloquent with words anyway. He prayed she understood, but the pause in her response made fear eat at his chest. Had he said the wrong thing?

"...Did you want to sleep with me?" That was the only conclusion she could think of. He was drunk and needed a body that was willing. If he was into women she was the closest one, and considering she was the only one in the estate he had to act fast.

"Sleep with you?" His words were quiet, as if he was scared to say them loud enough.

"As in sex. Did you want to have sex with me?" She was only so bold because she was facing away from him. The alcohol and bitter feeling in her chest brought up the question, but she could never work up the nerve to ask if she was looking directly at him.

He buried his face against her neck weighing the options. She was drunk, but so was he. There was no way either should do this. At the same time he doubted the option would ever be available again, especially as his attraction to her grew.

"Yes…"

He hovered over her, pushing in deeply with a moan. Her eyes had shed so many tears through the night, even more when he undressed her, but he couldn't help but to find her more addicting than before.

"You're so warm, oh fuck…" His head rested against her shoulder as he found himself able to thrust into her depths. "You're so beautiful, so perfect."

He heard her crying harder, moans of pleasure breaking through her moans of agony. Long had passed the attempts to calm her tears, especially when she grew nervous when he saw her naked.

He never missed her whispers of self-depreciation, how she fought all compliments that slipped from his lips as he undressed her layer by layer. Even if she found herself disgusting he couldn't agree with her. Every scar he uncovered, every little imperfection his eyes found cemented his infatuation.

It was her, something so unique to only her. No one else could replicate every little aspect of her.

Yet he couldn't make her stop crying. Soft whispers of praise didn't just fall on def ears but only pushed her into further despair. Every kind thing he said only brought more tears.

He didn't miss how her hips canted into his, how her eyes grew hazy as pleasure set in - the way her lips trembled after he kissed her, the second of hope in her eyes before she turned her head away.

The soft hiccups between whimpers were never lost on him. They came at his every kiss and praise, every moment he touched her in a way she enjoyed. As if some part of her wanted to receive his adoration before becoming buried in negativity.

She couldn't deny it, either. Simply knowing he didn't despise her, or at least a part of her, both healed and hurt her. For a moment she had some value to him. She was someone worthy of his sole attention.

Rough hands graced her body, pushing her hair from her face before guiding down her neck to cup her breast, gently squeezing her nipples before tracing her scars down her torso. When he reached her hips one hand held firm while the other graced the area above where they were joined. He remembered in a haze that men had talked about women feeling good there. A clit? All he knew is that her legs tightened around his hips the moment his thumb grazed the tip of the bud.

Abusing such a sensitive spot to see her reactions was a bit cruel on his part, but he wanted to see her relieved of her tears. It was time she felt good - both in terms of sex and about herself. He basked in the moment he hands left her face to cling to the bedding below her.

Dipping down he kissed her lips again, taking in how she seemed to squeeze tighter at the simple piece of affection. Despite the fact she felt inferior he adored having her like this - seeing her broken, in a way no one else has seen before, and the ability to see her put back together again. The vulnerability neither showed the world, only shared with the other.

He shifted his hips, thrusting deeper than before. She clenched around him in ways that made him regret never considering doing this sooner. At the same time, he knew their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Their suffering was similar in a sense, they both could understand not having any value in themselves. Had he really been so blind to her all this time?

"You're so good." His head fell to her shoulder as his hips jerked into her warmth. The man felt elation when she gave in and clung to him. At first her hands were lightly touching, only loosely circling his back. Even if he wasn't sober he recognized enough of her reactions to make her react how he wanted.

Kisses were placed to her cheek and jaw as he tilted his head from her shoulder. Her breath shuttered, her nails timidly scratching his skin as her hold grew more firm.

He didn't expect her to orgasm from such simple affection but he couldn't explain why else her core felt as if it were milking his cock. Her arms and legs tightened around him, pulling him flush against her as her face buried into the curve of his neck.

It was welcoming to hear a cry of pleasure rather than anguish. The sound graced him, bringing him to climax shortly after her. Had he been sober he would have been more mindful of mindlessly cumming inside her without a second thought. For the moment he wanted to bask in the feeling. The afterglow of sex was only highlighted by the feeling on her nuzzling into his neck.

For a moment she accepted him. Someone liked him, even if he could still hear her hiccup as warm tears covered her cheeks again. He considered wiping her tears away but decided that he would rather let her hide against his chest. It was somewhere safe, where the judgements of the world that had brought her so low couldn't touch her.

Her heart throbbed at the feeling of him holding her close, even as they shifted to lay chest to chest on the futon. His cum dripping out to dirty her thighs wouldn't deter her for enjoying the moment. Regret and shame could come later, for now she wanted to accept just a grain on the validation he gave. Even if he regretted in the morning she wanted to savor the moment.

*** [Jen’s part starts here]

When morning came, Giyuu greeted it with a heavy heart and an even heavier head. Flashes of what he’d done the night before played in his mind; and with every memory that flickered in his mind’s eye, he felt his heart sink deeper and deeper into the pit that was his stomach.

It was true that he realized that he was fonder of (Y/n) than most, but he was in no way prepared to take on the responsibility of caring for someone else’s emotions. He could barely even keep himself in check, who was to say that he could help heal her broken heart?

Especially when he was the one whom had broken it in the first place.

There was nothing more that he wanted to do than to get out of that room before she woke up, but the sight of her curled up beneath the lilac blanket had him staying right where he was. The least he could do was tell it to her straight, instead of running away like a coward.

He had to tell her that what had happened between them was a mistake.

And that was how (Y/n) came to: seeing Giyuu sitting right next to her— with his clothes already on, and with his head in his hands, as if the weight of the world had been perched on his shoulders.

A small smile made its way onto her face as she sat upright— gripping the blanket tight to her naked chest, and gently laying a hand against his arm. Only, instead of welcoming her touch, the Pillar’s body tensed up.

She felt her heart sink at that, as her smile dissolved into a confused frown. Had she done something wrong? Was last night not good for him? Did he find her repulsive in the morning light? Those thoughts kept flitting around inside her head, weighing her emotions down even more than they were when her brain had been addled with so much alcohol.

Slowly, she retracted her hand away from him and moved to tuck the blanket beneath her arms— holding them up to cover her modesty, even though she knew that he’d already seen everything. There was just something about being around him at that moment that had her feeling so insecure of herself; like she’d known all along, no one would have found her appealing, least of all the Water Pillar.

Giyuu tried to reach into himself to find the right words to say, almost clinging on to the notion of spouting lies in his desperation to spare her feelings. But he couldn’t do that to her, not after he’d taken the last thing she had left to offer him, aside from his heart.

“Thank you for last night,” The young man began softly, and his words felt like a harsh slap to (Y/n)’s face. Because those words weren’t the words of love that she’d fantasized about; they were cold and flat, as if he was saying them out of politeness instead of sincerity.

She’d known that it was going to be impossible to make him fall in love with her; but it didn’t hurt any less to have him try to gently turn her down, just as he was doing at that moment. Everything in her wanted her to scream and rage, to make him do the impossible task of turning back time— if only so she could push him away.

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, even though she tried so hard to keep herself from showing him any kind of reaction. Her chest grew even heavier with the silent expectations that she’d had for his next few words— mentally bracing herself for a spiel that was going to push her away from him for good.

“But last night… can’t happen again. It was never supposed to happen.”

Still, when he uttered the words, she couldn’t help but flinch and look down at her lap— where her hands were worrying the lilac-colored blanket between her fingertips. And, no matter how hard she tried to push back her tears, they still welled up in her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks in hot rivulets.

Words had eluded her, as all she could think about was Giyuu’s own sentence that more or less said that sleeping with her had been a mistake.

“I can’t be in a relationship with anyone right now; I won’t be good for you, nor will I be good for anyone else.”

(Y/n) pursed her lips at that, cutting off the sob that wanted to escape her lips, as his words burrowed themselves deep into her heart— cutting her deeper and deeper until she felt like there was nothing left inside her chest.

Instead of staying, however, Giyuu slowly got up from where he sat and made his way over to the door— pointedly avoiding looking at the crying woman, whom was barely holding herself together in his presence. “I’m sorry, (L/n). Please forget everything that happened last night.”

The slayer couldn’t even bring herself to look up at him, even well after he had closed the shoji quietly behind himself. Her entire body felt so helplessly broken and cold, numb down to the tips of her fingers, and easily fragile even as she moved to hug herself in an effort to hold herself together.

That was the last day she had ever talked to Giyuu, let alone even looked at him. It made for an awkward time around the Water Estate, so she had gotten in contact with the one person whom she knew she could count on to save her.

It was a desperate attempt to cling on to Sanemi, but it was all she could do when she had been backed into a corner with no other option. It was either she moved in with her childhood friend, or risked Giyuu finding out the secret that she so desperate wanted to keep from him.

She would not have acted so delicately in any other situation, but as time went on— she noticed that Giyuu had been coming back to the estate later and later; until he would be gone for days at a time with no word to anyone if he was out on a mission or on an errand.

The Pillar she had known was not like that at all, so it was a cause for suspicion.

(Y/n) had tried to avoid him as much as she could, but doing her old tasks of mending his uniform and haori, as well as washing his clothes had been hard to let go of— as everyone already had a routine that they had stuck to, and no one was willing to switch chores with her, unless she told them the real reason why she suddenly wanted to switch to doing kitchen tasks instead.

And in doing those tasks, she slowly found that his uniforms and haori were always newly mended, with the subtle signs of a feminine touch. But it wasn’t until she’d seen the embroidered heart on the sleeve of his haori that she’d arrived at the conclusion that he was seeing someone.

His words of how he couldn’t be in a relationship with anyone played in her mind, as a bitter laugh bubbled free from her lips— which was then followed by such quiet and breathless sobs that made her feel even sorrier for herself.

Because there she was, still in love with the same man whom had turned down her love and was adamant about not being in a relationship with her. Only to find out that he was seeing someone else; maybe even loved that someone.

That would explain why he was brooding less often on the rare days when he stayed in the estate, and would also explain why his overall aura seemed lighter than before.

Of course, it hurt, and she knew that she couldn’t keep turning a blind eye to it— not when his mere presence was an insult to her pain.

That was how she found herself moving in with Sanemi and telling him everything that had happened between her and Giyuu, before eventually coming clean with the fact that she was two months along with a baby— Giyuu’s baby, to be exact.

Sanemi had offered to take the child in as his own, and had even made hints of wanting to marry (Y/n)— all of which she had adamantly refused. Because she couldn’t do to anyone else what Giyuu had done to her, and that was use her.

“I can take care of you. No one would even dare to say anything if the baby doesn’t look like me, as long as I say that I’m the father,” Sanemi had insisted, cupping her face gently in his hands and wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Please, (Y/n)… let me take care of you.”

Little did she know that Sanemi’s words weren’t being said out of a false sense of duty, rather for something completely genuine and heartfelt. He felt for her what Giyuu never did, yet Sanemi was too hesitant to put any pressure on her— as he was ready to keep her in any way he could, rather than lose her altogether.

The Wind Pillar loved her too much to do that to her, so he lived most of their life keeping his own feelings to himself. It hurt to see her pine after a man who didn’t want her in the first place, and it hurt him even more when he found out that she had been used the way she had, so enough was enough.

He had wholeheartedly accepted her to move into the Wind Estate, ushering her to just leave her things at the Water Estate— all so she wouldn’t have to bear witness to more of Giyuu’s thinly concealed happiness.

It took everything in him not to throttle the Water Pillar the last time they’d had a meeting at the Demon Slayer headquarters, because that content expression on Giyuu’s face grated so badly on his nerves— especially since he always heard (Y/n)’s soft cries at night, when she thought that everyone was already asleep.

Even being near Giyuu made Sanemi’s hackles rise, because he believed that he shouldn’t be so content with his life— not when he had left (Y/n) hurting by herself. To add insult to injury, Giyuu hadn’t even asked anyone for (Y/n)’s whereabouts— which he had initially expected to happen.

But it appeared that Sanemi had expected too much, because it seemed that the other Pillar didn’t even care at all. He didn’t even give any indication that he was worried about (Y/n) at all; and that only angered Sanemi even more.

He would be damned if he even let Giyuu get a glimpse of (Y/n) or her child ever again. So, he swore to never let the Water Pillar close enough to hurt the person he loved the most; never again.

***

All the while, Giyuu felt like he was walking on cloud nine. For once in his life, he felt content and mildly happy in the arms of his lover. However, that contentedness could only last so long, until the thoughts of that night with (Y/n) played in his mind.

Every kiss and every touch plagued him when he was weakest, and the more that he dwelled on his guilt, the more that he felt empty inside; as if the happiness he felt showed its true nature by being fleeting and temporary.

He tried to mask it at first, pretending to keep up the act that nothing was bothering him— just like how he’d felt in the first few months with his lover. The words he’d said to (Y/n) the morning after had him shaking his head to get rid of them, and it was easy to ignore at first— until it had gotten up to the point where he couldn’t even have a moment’s peace without his words coming to gnaw at his conscience.

He knew that he’d done (Y/n) so much wrong by lying to her like that— by telling her that he wasn’t suited to be with anyone when, in reality, he just wasn’t ready to open his heart up to her; at least, not at the time. It was easier to open his heart up to someone who didn’t have a clue that demons existed— someone whom he knew he wouldn’t be able to lose, if he just kept them in the dark.

He had let his own irrational fears decide for him, but what was done had already been done— and he couldn’t take anything back.

His shame and guilt were the main reasons why he never sought her out, even though he had heard that she was living with Shinazugawa at that point.

Did he feel guilty? Yes. Was it taking its toll on his newfound relationship? Definitely.

Giyuu had gotten to the point where he couldn’t even close his eyes without seeing how broken (Y/n) was when he’d left her in her room.

And it wasn’t until he’d seen (Y/n) come back to the Water Estate with Shinazugawa that things had snapped into place for him. Jealousy stirred within his chest, especially when he saw the care and gentleness that the Wind Pillar treated her with— and he found himself wishing that it was him in his place.

The way that the silver-haired Pillar was acting towards her could have been construed as how a husband would act with a wife, and Giyuu found the thought of (Y/n) being married to his comrade leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

Still, he could only look on from outside her room, as they picked out the things that she wanted to take— namely: her family’s mementos.

And no matter how hard he tried to talk to her, Sanemi made a point to cut him off and take up all of her attention; leaving him feeling so unneeded and uselessly dismissed to the side, as if he didn’t even matter.

Giyuu couldn’t even say anything as they left with nothing but a small rucksack of the things she had wanted to bring— leaving her room in pretty much the same state as she had left it in, in the first place.

He’d tried to get a hold of her after that, sending her numerous letters via crow and always getting them sent back in an untouched state. All that was left for him to do was go and visit her at the Wind Estate, but he was saving that last desperate attempt for when he really needed it most.

But, not even his lover’s company was enough to keep his mind off of (Y/n); always seeing her face in his mind whenever he closed his eyes, and silently wishing that it was him that she had been talking to and softly smiling at on that day when she returned to his Estate.

He wished that he was Shinazugawa, all so he could have her in his arms again.

So, that was how he found himself ending things with his civilian lover; feeling horrible that he hadn’t felt as much guilt when ending things with her, as opposed to how he felt when he pushed (Y/n) away.

When he’d gotten back to his estate the morning after breaking things off with his lover, he found things much more silent than usual. There was no activity in any part of the grounds, and it seemed that there were no slayers in the house; even those who should have been asleep weren’t there.

It was as if his estate had suddenly become a ghost town.

And it was only in the afternoon, as he was sipping on his tea, that he found out exactly what the cause of everyone’s absence was.

Murata staggered into the house with his arms slung over two other slayers’ shoulders. His face was all red and blotchy, while his cheeks were marred with both fresh and dried tear tracks that had Giyuu setting his tea cup down and listening in to what was happening.

“I can’t believe that she’s gone,” Murata cried through a sob, shaking his head in disbelief as the two other men carried him through the halls— stopping right by the doors that led to the engawa, and bowing as a show of respect to Giyuu.

“Gone? Who?” The Pillar asked softly, feeling a tinge of uneasiness touch his chest as he waited in nervous anticipation for his subordinates’ answers.

However, the lower ranked slayers looked between each other before one of them spoke up, “It’s (L/n), Tomioka-sama. She was found dead last night… by seppuku.”

Giyuu felt as if his entire world had stopped at hearing the news. His entire body felt cold, and his heart had all but stopped beating inside his chest. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes, as he furrowed his eyebrows in bewildered confusion— and denial.

His heart, which he had held so carefully within himself, began to crack with every shaky exhale that passed from his lips. And he tried opening his mouth to speak, only to close it when no words would come out— until his own tears spilled over and ran down his face in hot rivulets.

He hadn’t wasted anymore time after that; instantly making his way towards the Wind Estate and getting there when dusk had long since bathed the world in darkness.

Lanterns lit up the path that led to the estate, where people were trickling out of the gates in either pairs of small groups. Most of them were expressing their pity towards the husband of the deceased, which confused Giyuu immensely; not to mention the fact that it harped on his nerves, as his jealousy reared its ugly head inside him.

“I heard that she was five months along. Poor child.”

He pushed past the thinning crowd, feeling his heart begin to race even more as reality slowly began to set in.

She really was gone.

And it was only when he reached the wake that had been set up in the backyard that the tears he’d thought had long run empty began to roll down his cheeks once more.

Flowers adorned each and every vacant space of the altar that (Y/n)’s body had been laid on; all of them in a creamy white color that seamlessly mirrored the kimono she wore. But it wasn’t the ornate kimono, or the grandiose display that caught Giyuu’s attention; it was the smaller, but not less ornate, kimono that had been laid over (Y/n)’s chest— with her hands cupped over it, as if protecting it from the world.

He felt the last bit of his heart wilt away at the sight of it, because a part of him just knew… that child was his; or, it had been.

“What the fuck are you doing here? I didn’t invite you.” A familiar voice snarled behind Giyuu, making him whirl around and meet Sanemi’s angry lilac eyes. They were more bloodshot than usual, and seemed puffy— as if he had just gotten done crying.

“I have a right to be here.”

“The fuck you do. You did this to her!” Sanemi yelled angrily, shoving the other Pillar with all the strength he could muster, and knocking him down onto the ground before the altar. At that point, more tear had overflowed from his eyes, and were dripping down his face; yet he made no move to wipe them away. “I loved her. I wanted to give her the world, but all she wanted was a bastard like you!”

The Wind Pillar lunged at Giyuu at that point, unmindful of the bewildered crowd around them as he reared his fist back and landed a solid punch to Giyuu’s face.

“You’re the reason she’s gone! You don’t deserve to fucking see her again!” Before he could throw another punch, Sanemi was pulled off of Giyuu by two pairs of strong arms— and when Giyuu looked up, it was to see both Gyōmei and Rengoku looking down at him with what he could only construe as pity.

Still, as his fellow Pillars pulled Sanemi away, he could still hear the other man’s cries of how he had never deserved to even look at (Y/n) in the first place.

Giyuu looked back at where (Y/n) laid, feeling shame envelope him more and more the longer he stared at her from his place on the ground. He didn’t even make a move to stand up, because he was so ashamed of what he had done to her.

And, for once, he agreed with Sanemi: he had never really deserved to even look at (Y/n) in the first place.

Still, the longer he looked at her body, the more he felt his guilt gnawing at him. The longer that he took her in, the more that he couldn’t keep himself from thinking just how much pain she had been in when she was dying.

He couldn’t help but think that she had suffered all of that pain, just so she could be free of him. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

***

To say that Giyuu felt tired was the understatement of the century. He was so torn and beat up, and missing one arm as he waited for death to consume him. He couldn’t even feel anything as he felt the last ounces of life drain away at his fingertips.

But, in his last moments, all that filled his mind were thoughts of (Y/n) and all of his regrets— as all of them had to do with her and their unborn child.

He knew that he shouldn’t have pushed her away like that; that things could have been different had he stayed and tried to open his heart up to her. He also knew that things would have been different— that he would have been happy in his final moments— had he tried to give (Y/n) the life that she deserved.

If he had just tried to love her back, instead of taking so long to realize the real extent of his feelings for her, then maybe— just maybe— he would have been fighting even harder to stay alive.

Images of what he thought their child would have looked like flickered in his mind; each one bringing more tears to his eyes than the last. He saw her holding their child, smiling at him so warmly as she welcomed him home— a thought that would never come true, because he had been the one who’d pushed her to end her own life.

And, in her death, all those dreams of the simple life they could have had as a family plagued him— as if it were an alternate reality that was playing in his mind whenever he found enough solace to fall asleep. In his dreams she was happy— greeting him so warmly at their own home after he came home from a mission.

But the part that made his heart ache the most were the images of a baby boy— with blue eyes, much like his— who would crawl on the floor just to get to him; clinging tightly to his hakama just so he could stand up on his own two feet and demand to be carried.

“Papa, up! Yuu miss papa!” The boy would cry out, almost close to tears as he looked up at Giyuu earnestly. And, like always, it would make the Water Pillar’s heart ache— because it was another reminder of what he could have had, but had chosen to let go of.

Happiness was within his grasp, yet he’d thrown it away out of fear. He’d cast (Y/n) aside and had never tried to make amends, so it was his own fault that she was gone.

She hadn’t wanted to be a burden to Sanemi, and she hadn’t wanted to beg for scraps of his affection— so she had done what she thought was necessary to free him and the Wind Pillar of any sort of obligation to her.

He’d only found that out after Shinazugawa had— reluctantly— given him a short letter that wasn’t even meant for his eyes. They were only meant for Sanemi, but the other pillar had wordlessly given him the piece of paper during one of their Pillar meetings, and had not spoken to him since.

A tourniquet had been wrapped around his wound, yet he still felt nothing as medics raced to patch him up as best as they could. He couldn’t even lift his head up, what with the heaviness of his thoughts weighing him down.

Giyuu could only let his head loll to the side as he took in the way that the only remaining Pillar— aside from him— had been wrapped tightly in bandages. But, he’d noticed, that he kept his right hand enclosed tightly around something.

The medics had tried to get him to let go of it, after they’d thought that he was already asleep— but were met with hostile glares and snarls that warned them to stay away from whatever he had been holding.

And it was only when Sanemi had already passed out that he saw what the other man had been tightly holding on to: it was the very necklace that (Y/n) had come back for that day at his estate. He’d seen it briefly when he had been waiting for her to wake up, and there was no mistaking it— it really was (Y/n)’s.

He felt his chest tighten at the sight of it, and part of him longed to reach out and claim it for himself; but another part of him— the more rational and conscientious side— had him stay right where he was.

After all, he was the reason that she was gone in the first place. Just like he was the reason that his sister had died, and also why Sabito had died.

And as he thought more about it, the more he realized that all he brought to others were pain and suffering— and death.

So maybe, dying at that moment was a fair price to pay for all the people he’d hurt in that lifetime. He could only hope to see his sister and Sabito briefly, or maybe even (Y/n), before he accepted his fate in hell.

BONUS:

Cold, icy fear gripped (Y/n)’s heart tightly; the pressure only getting heavier and heavier on her chest as she placed a shaky hand on top of her abdomen— ignoring the warm blood that had already soaked through her yukata, and was slowly pooling on the floor where she sat.

She couldn’t even lift her head with the shame she felt weighing down on her shoulders, because she had chosen the most cowardly way to go. It wasn’t what she had been raised to believe in, but it was the only form of escape she could think of.

Still she hoped, and prayed, that Sanemi would never resort to blaming himself for her decision to end it all; and that Giyuu would find it in himself to forgive her.

At the very thought of Giyuu, more broken sobs left her chapped lips— making her muscles contract, and agitating her self-inflicted wound even further. It hurt so much that she just wanted it to be over— that she just wanted to feel her life drain out of her at a faster pace— but she knew she deserved to feel all of the hurt that she could in her last few moments.

She deserved to suffer, not because she was taking the coward’s way out, but because she was taking an innocent life along with her.

Her hands moved to cup the small baby bump on her stomach, knowing that whatever life that had been in there was already gone— or already close to being gone. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her words repeated themselves over and over in her head— inevitably bringing her back to the moment when she had written the very same words, with shaky hands, on parchment; immortalizing them in a letter that she had addressed to Giyuu.

I loved you when I didn’t even love myself. And that was wrong of me. I’m so sorry, Giyuu.

More tears rolled down her cheeks, as her heartache doubled at the memory of writing the words down played in her mind. She could feel what was left of her soul slowly chipping away, with guilt and fear gnawing at it for having claimed to love a man that she knew would never even love her.

I’m sorry to the child that could have been; a broken mother, and a father who didn’t want it… I couldn’t do that to it. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, Giyuu.

Please, it’s all I ask… that in another lifetime, if you ever see me again, that you would not hate me for doing what I thought was best for you and the baby.

Maybe, in another life, in an alternate reality, we could have been happy… just not in this one.

Her head was beginning to spin with the blood loss, and she knew that it wouldn’t take long before she finally met her fate— so, with one last prayer, she asked the spirits of her deceased family members to take care of her child when she crossed over, and to look after Giyuu.

All because she knew that she would never be able to do it from hell.

“I’m so sorry,” were her last words to the life that had been inside her, before she slowly succumbed to her mortality.

And, when she came to, it was to a cold and desolate place that was filled with nothing but darkness. No matter where she looked, all she could see was pitch black.

Of course, she was afraid, but all of that fear vanished when she looked down at her arms and saw a tiny child that was swathed in a white blanket. Her breath caught in her throat, as guilt bubbled up inside her— lodging itself in her throat and making her tear up as she took in more and more of its features in the dim light trained on her.

With the lightest touch she could muster, she lifted her right hand up to the baby’s cheek and traced its smooth cheek— gasping softly when it opened its eyes and presented her with irises that were much like Giyuu’s blue ones.

“Hello, you must be (Y/n).” The soft and melodic voice had the young woman jumping in surprise— tightening her grip around her baby and holding him closer to her chest, as if to protect it from the stranger. And when she looked up, she was met with the face of two women— much more beautiful than her, and with presences so comforting that it made her want to hug them and cry in their arms. “I’m Tsutako. Tomioka Tsutako.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened at that, as she knew that Giyuu had had an older sister once upon a time; someone he had never mentioned, but had been talked about within the lower ranks of the slayers— and it was, regretufully, how she knew.

“You might not remember me, but I’m Shizu…” The other woman whispered, smiling slightly all the while.

“I… you’re Sanemi’s mother. I remember,” (Y/n) admitted quietly, trying to hold back her tears as reality sank in: she really was in the afterlife. She’d died and brought her child along with her.

She didn’t even dare to ask why they were there; she already knew the reason. Her family’s spirits had ostracized her and didn’t even bother to show themselves to take her baby to heaven with them. It was a thought that stung her deeply, but she had no choice but to shoulder it and try to pretend that it wasn’t affecting her at all.

All so she could save face.

(Y/n)’s eyes flitted from one woman’s gaze to another, knowing full well whom she was supposed to go with, and what she was supposed to do. Yet, her limbs stayed frozen— wanting to hold on to her baby for a little longer, even though she knew that they didn’t have forever to stay in limbo.

She looked down once more at hers and Giyuu’s son, inhaling deeply as she brought him up to her face and pressed a kiss to his forehead; desperately fighting off the tears that had clouded her vision, and had begun to stream down her face in hot rivulets.

It felt like her heart was breaking all over again, as soon as she’d had a momentary taste of happiness.

“Please take care of him,” (Y/n) whispered, nuzzling the tip of her nose against her baby’s cheek and memorizing how he smelled like; as it was the first and last time that she was ever going to see him. “And please always tell him how much his mama would have loved him. And that she’s sorry for not giving him a chance to live.”

Her tears had dripped onto the now-sleeping baby’s face, which she wiped off with the tips of her fingers— right before hugging him close one last time; savoring every second that ticked by, before she reluctantly stepped towards Tsutako and handed him off to her.

“Your father would have adored you.” Giyuu’s older sister gave (Y/n) a sad smile at that, fully knowing what it was like to have to say goodbye to someone she loved, and held the swathed bundle close to her heart. “Does he have a name?”

“Yuu. His name is Yuu.”

#giyuu tomioka x reader #tomioka giyuu x reader #tomioka giyuu #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer tomioka #demon slayer fanfiction #kny fanfiction #tomioka giyuu scenario #biz #jen writes

[mythicamagic]

Impostor Syndrome: Sesskag oneshot

Summery: Kagome is resurrected by a grief stricken husband- brought back to fill his late wife Kikyo’s shoes. While the characteristics unique to Kagome are rejected by Inuyasha, there’s a certain Daiyoukai who has a fascination with her blue eyes, sun kissed skin and curling hair.

Rated T (angst, relationship drama, romance and hurt/comfort) 7,000+ words.

AN: Inuyasha plays a more antagonistic role here but in case you’ve never read my stuff before, just know that I do like him and love me some good platonic best friends Inukag, as seen in Conversing with Emotion and Swimming in Silk. It’s just that I like to play around with the characters, so forgive me for how he’s written in this one.

No smut here but please enjoy.

Impostor Syndrome

There once was a young man who married for love. Born a half-demon, he never anticipated anyone loving him, let alone a priestess; enemy to his father’s kin.

But just as he did not fit in with demon or humankind, she did not belong within the role assigned to her either. An extraordinary woman wishing to be ordinary. To be free from the weight of expectation placed upon her shoulders.

And so they’d fled.

After marrying for love the young man experienced pure, quiet happiness with his wife. She had a calming spirit that could turn hard as flint, blinding in her cold ruthlessness. She could slay enemies efficiently and with poised control yet turn soft and loving for him alone.

They lived for a time together in the forest, keeping to their personal haven.

Because of her skill, the young man trusted her power not to fail on the night of the new moon.

He howled his grief and despair long into the early hours of morning after discovering her broken body lying in the grass of a clearing.

But that was not quite the end of the man who married for love. Instead, he attempted to play God.

—-

She took her first breath and broke into a coughing fit. Rising up from the cold floor, a young woman shivered. Glancing down, she found herself covered in sticky sweat, completely bare.

“Kikyo,” someone breathed, barely above a whisper.

The young woman started. Her hand was caught between two larger ones that clasped her fingers tight, squeezing. Blue eyes raised to the stranger with muted confusion.

He blinked with equal confusion and mounting anger, sniffing. “You don't… smell like her,” the words came faintly. “Why doesn’t she smell like her!” He burst, causing the woman to jolt.

“Master Inuyasha, the spell you desired is a finicky one.” A slippery, hoarse voice came from behind them, dripping fake pleasantries. “Be patient. Your wife may not look or smell quite the same but her memories will return from the dead.”

Inuyasha glared over his shoulder at the witch who lingered in the entrance to his hut like an unwanted spectre. “She better. This ain’t what I agreed to,” he stood, fists trembling.

The girl at his feet stared with furrowed brows, uncertain why disappointment brimmed in the stranger’s eyes. Nonetheless, he seemed to try and correct his attitude, reaching down to grasp thin arms. Roughly tugging her to stand, he supported her around the waist when she wobbled. “I guess we’ll just take this slow,” he sighed. “I’m your husband, Inuyasha. And your name is Kikyo.”

She blinked and tried to steady herself on trembling legs, frowning.

The very first words out of her mouth were;

“I’m not Kikyo.”

—-

Perhaps those words didn’t help endear her to Inuyasha. Nonetheless, he resolved to start from scratch.

‘Kikyo’ was given his late wife’s clothes to wear, smoothing the priestess robes over her body. However, with every opportunity, the woman slipped out of the robes in order to wear a yukata or kimono instead. Anything but the miko attire. It set his teeth on edge. At least she held the holy power of a priestess like his wife.

She understood his language and already knew the basics of reading and writing. Inuyasha took this to be a good sign since his late wife had been educated.

When it came to other things, the woman tried her best to learn the necessary herbs for healing as instructed. Yet her attention often wandered away, lost in a daydream.

“Oi,” he grunted. “Focus. Kikyo was dedicated to this stuff.”

“But we already have enough herbs from yesterday,” sighing, she straightened and rested the basket of herbs against her hip. “Can’t we do something else?” Blue eyes lingered on the treetops. “Is there a beach near here? I’d really like to see the ocean.”

White ears flicked and pressed to his skull. “Where’d you hear about beaches? I never took Kikyo to one.”

She continued to gaze longingly at the trees, as though looking through them to somewhere else, somewhere far away. Inuyasha grit his teeth, bristling. Grasping the woman’s chin and turning it slightly to better inspect the structure of her face, he tsked. “Damn it… wish your eyes were brown like they used to be,” he grumbled. “Hurry up and remember everything already. You’re not acting right.”

Blue eyes slid away, lips thinning. “I’m just acting like myself…”

“Keh, you ain’t anyone else but Kikyo,” dropping her chin, he straightened. “Things are weird right now but they’ll go back to normal as soon as you remember, I promise.”

The young woman buried her feelings anew. She’d been doing that a lot lately. When he walked away and called for Kikyo, it took her a moment to remember that she’d been assigned such a name. It didn’t sit right on her tongue.

—

Inuyasha lived fairly isolated within the woods with his wife. However, there were those who knew where to find him. Namely: his half brother.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you used it?”

“I have used it.”

“Experimenting with the sword on Jaken and a little girl does not count,” Inukimi hummed with amusement, watching her son with dancing eyes.

Sesshoumaru’s narrowed, head tilting back and brushing long silver hair over his shoulder. “As this one has stated numerous times; a sword of healing is a useless prop for a warlord to wield.”

His honoured mother hummed, resting her pale cheek in her palm boredly. “I do wish your Father were still with us to temper that disrespectful tongue of yours. Consider my words, pup. That sword should be used, and preferably to save a life that is precious to you. Don’t squander it, dearest. I thought you hated wasted potential.”

With a snort, Sesshoumaru took his leave. Disappointment radiated off Inukimi but he hardly cared. Whatever ‘lesson’ Father had intended for him to learn about Tenseiga was ultimately useless for a demon like him.

Returning to his own stronghold, Sesshoumaru listened to the reports from his advisers, before making his way down a hallway. Strange that his blood did not sing with the thrill of victory. Reports of his army’s success in battle were usually a favourable thing. Lately, however, there was no burning satisfaction. Perhaps he merely needed to visit the front lines again for himself. Jaken was most likely instructing Rin in her morning lessons at that time, so he made his way towards the gardens.

Whispers flitted into the air, irritating his ears. Sesshoumaru zeroed in on the hushed mutterings and paused mid-step. The Lord of the Western lands did not care much for idle gossip, yet a particularly prevalent one kept cropping up lately.

“Did ye hear? Master Inuyasha’s wife perished.”

“The priestess Kikyo?”

“Mn- and do not repeat this but I hear he revived her with the use of dark magic.”

“No!”

“Yes. Though I suppose he’d need to rely on such means. It is not as though Lord Sesshoumaru would lend him Tenseiga.”

At the mention of his name, a frosty gaze swung to the servants down the hallway. They squeaked and hurried away.

Though he loathed agreeing, the validity of their statement couldn’t be denied. He and his brother were not ‘close’ by any stretch of the imagination. Still, Sesshoumaru felt mildly curious about the whelp’s situation.

This curiosity resulted in the Daiyoukai gliding through the sky that afternoon. It took a few hours, but Sesshoumaru followed his memory towards Inuyasha’s humble hut. He did not land gracefully before the house, instead keeping to the surrounding bushes. Moving near silently under the heavy shade of the trees, pointed ears twitched.

Thwack.

Sesshoumaru scented the air and minded some low hanging branches aside, revealing the figure of a dark-haired young woman in the clearing ahead. She drew a bowstring back and arched her spine slightly, pulling taut. Taking in a breath, she released in time with the arrow sailing free.

Sesshoumaru’s eyes widened slightly, watching it fly through the air. Blazing, rippling light flowed around it like a fireball, crashing into the target and licking at the paper with burns before fading away.

“The hell was THAT?!”

Sesshoumaru dazedly forced his attention to Inuyasha, who stomped into view. “One: ya missed the bullseye! Two: your stance was wrong, and three: Kikyo had amazing control over her powers. She never woulda let them loose like that! Ya stupid or something? Do I gotta tell you the basics over and over?”

The miko sighed and dropped her arms, making a face. “Can’t you encourage me for once and say ‘good job?’ I try my best every time!”

“I’ll tell ya 'good job’ when you do one!”

Sesshoumaru raised a brow, watching as Inuyasha fell quiet. He reached up and contemplatively curled his fingers into the woman’s thick dark hair. The woman stilled, becoming watchful.

“It’s startin’ to kink at the ends again. Go wash it,” he grunted so softly Sesshoumaru’s hearing strained a little to catch it.

Blue eyes dimmed. The woman broke from Inuyasha’s touch to flee, hurrying away from their training grounds.

Sesshoumaru pursued.

Silently moving through the trees with all the grace of a jungle cat, limbs shifted and eyes assessed, gleaming bright in the shadows. Sesshoumaru leaned against a tree, remaining hidden by the foliage. The sound of muffled sobs reached his ears, almost buried under the noise of a waterfall. Salt fanned through the air. The woman knelt in a pool beside the falls, stripped down to a white underlayer yukata. She poured a bucket over her head, shuddering. Biting back sobs, she miserably combed shaking fingers through her hair, pausing to inspect the naturally curling dark locks.

“Just flatten. Why can’t you stay straight?” She sighed.

Sesshoumaru rose a brow as the young woman raised an arm, pushing back her sleeve to glare at her skin. “And don’t even get me started on you.”

When she did not elaborate, he found himself walking through the greenery, pushing past the bushes to inquire: “What exactly has your flesh done to offend you, madwoman?”

Starting violently, she fell back to land on her ass, creating a small splash. Blue eyes flew wide, flitting over his figure. Sesshoumaru let her drink him in. He often had that effect on people.

She gathered herself a little quicker than expected, rising. “I was just annoyed about being so tanned. My uh… husband,” the word was faint and sounded almost like a question. “He said his former wife was pale but she spent all her time outdoors. How’s that possible?!”

Sesshoumaru blinked languidly, tilting his head slightly. “Hn. This one was led to believe Inuyasha had resurrected the priestess Kikyo. However, you seem more like a replacement than her double.”

Flinching, she began ringing her hair. Water droplets slid down rosy cheeks and fell from the dark, dishevelled strands of midnight black locks. The white yukata plastered to her body almost indecently.

Sesshoumaru lifted his eyes from where they’d been lingering and caught her gaze. Colour leaked into her cheeks, darkening them further as she huffed. “You know Inuyasha, then?”

“This one is his half brother, Sesshoumaru.”

“Oh,” her eyes clouded with thought. “I didn’t know he had a brother. I don’t get to talk to anyone else but he still doesn’t tell me much about himself.”

Sesshoumaru watched as the woman bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m-” she caught herself, lips thinning. A dark look crossed her features before the name was pushed past her teeth like mud. “Kikyo. I'm… Kikyo.”

“No, you are not.”

The woman jolted and stared, fingers curling into her sleeves tightly. “I don't… have another name,” came a fragile murmur.

“Then give yourself one,” he uttered flatly, uncertain why he lingered. He supposed it displeased him on some level. Sesshoumaru did not like unnecessary waste. What he’d witnessed earlier of her powers hinted at a deep well of untapped potential in the girl. She’d likely not unlock it if Inuyasha kept her mind on trivial details like 'straight hair.’ “This one gave himself the name Sesshoumaru, or Killing Perfection. When a demon comes of age, they may choose a new one for themselves,” he elaborated. “I have been bred for war. So that is the most fitting name.”

She blinked and rubbed at her eyes, before raising her head, lips curving. “The 'killing’ part, sure. But 'perfection?’” She teased.

“I am very good at it,” he said in a silky tone.

Bursting into a laugh, the strange woman gave the brightest smile the demon lord had yet to witness, blue eyes glimmering. “I see. Thank you for the advice. I’ll do that.”

He frowned slightly, suddenly feeling a little odd. Hyper aware of his lack of reason to be there now, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and walked away. In his eagerness to leave, he quite forgot to check in with Inuyasha himself.

A few days went by before Sesshoumaru made the journey back to Inuyasha’s home once more. Peace reigned throughout the Lord’s lands so he allowed himself the 'entertainment’ of watching Inuyasha’s latest drama. It was most definitely not to glimpse the miko again, nor to monitor her progress.

She seemed to have improved her aim, yet the reiki remained unfiltered and untrained. What was Inuyasha doing?

Ah, it seemed he was in the middle of their latest shouting match.

Clearly yelling would not make the girl learn any faster. Golden eyes cut to the sky. Why did he have to get involved?

“Concentrate your energy into the arrow.”

“Huh?” The woman glanced over her shoulder, now left briefly unmonitored by the whelp. She shifted the bow and arrow in her hands, dressed in traditional red and white miko attire today. They made her look like a Kikyo doll. “I don’t…know how,” she confessed. “It always feels like there’s so much of it. Like I’m trying to hold onto water that’s pouring too quick. I can cup a little into my hands, but the rest overflows.”

Sesshoumaru hummed, gaze ripping itself away from the light catching in her hair, causing some strands to shine a strangely blue hue. “Practice yields results. Eventually you will manage to filter the 'water’ into the arrow and allow the excess to flow back into you.”

She nodded and faced the target, elbows drooped and feet too close together. Biting back a sigh, he approached.

A hand met her elbow, pushing to raise it. “Keep your arms in this position…” his deep baritone became clogged with a velvety rumble, finding her scent not unpleasant when it brushed over his senses. His palm met the base of her spine, prodding to arch her back. She felt warm to the touch.

He then slid a foot between her own, nudging her legs to part wider. A rapid heartbeat thundered in his ears. “This is the correct stance.”

“A-ah, thanks.”

With a palm pressing against her back, Sesshoumaru felt it when she inhaled a breath, coiling static energy into the wooden arrow and releasing it.

The arrow flew free, missing the bullseye. However, the holy powers raced over her bow in an agitated manner before settling back down instead of scotching the target.

Better, he mused.

She gave a much louder whoop of success.

From that day on, he visited the miko in secret once each week. It pleased the slumbering desire within him to witness the smile come to her lips the instant blue eyes fell upon him. Like she’d been waiting. Whenever they met and the demon’s knuckles grazed her waist- her arm, her hair- the woman scrubbed herself afterwards in a hot spring or pool, mindful of Inuyasha’s keen nose.

Sesshoumaru’s voice was crisp and clear, instruction brief and to the point in his teaching. She tried her best as his pupil, grumbling sometimes but not outright complaining. Instead, the nameless woman threw herself wholeheartedly into what was demanded of her.

Two months later, she finally hit the bullseye with perfect control. Not a hint of reiki over-spilled.

“I did it!” The woman glanced over her shoulder to look up at him, beaming from ear to ear.

Sesshoumaru stared. Her happy scent washed over him in waves. His lips parted to drink it in easier. Faintly, the sleeping want for her stirred and stretched awake like a disturbed cat.

It was while staring that the dip of her collar hinting at succulent flesh laying just beneath- that something caught his eye. Her clothing shifted downwards, revealing a glimpse of something unmistakable.

A love bite.

The situation suddenly dawned on him, the ridiculousness of what he was doing. He should not get involved with Inuyasha’s wench. Hell, he shouldn’t even be there. What was he doing? He had wars to plan, subjects to lead. And yet he’d been waiting each day for that favoured time he’d visit her anew. Mentally he took a step back.

“Sesshoumaru?”

He frowned at the familiarity with which she used his name. At his pensive silence, dark brows pulled together and she bit her lip maddeningly.

Foolish miko. This one’s teeth should be the ones to catch your lips and bite down-

“Oi, Kikyo!” Came a distant shout.

They both jolted, Sesshoumaru raising his head. He did not run nor hide, because Sesshoumaru did not flee from anyone.

From out of the forest greenery, Inuyasha burst forth, snarling. He raised a hand and flexed his fingers. “I thought I smelled ya. The hell are you doing here, Sesshoumaru? Back off. That’s my wife you’re hovering around.”

“Is that so?” He uttered, raising his chin in a lofty manner. “She is so changed in appearance and scent this one mistook her for a different human entirely.”

Out of his peripheral vision, the woman flinched. For some reason, this set his teeth on edge. She should not think it an insult. Inuyasha’s words were starting to infect her, seep into the woman’s self-image, rotting it like poison.

Not that this one cares.

Inuyasha snarled. “She’s gonna go back to normal soon, it ain’t any of your business!”

“No, it is not. In fact, it is far beneath my notice,” he uttered, claws flexing. And then because he could, Sesshoumaru blurred through the air and struck. His fist plummeted into Inuyasha’s cheek, sending the hanyou sailing away and crashing into the ground.

His half brother sputtered and snarled, sitting up and holding his cheek. “The fuck was that for?! You wanna fight?”

“I have little inclination to linger here any longer than necessary,” Sesshoumaru lied, turning on his heel and passing the miko. Sadness fanned out from her scent, irritating his senses. She didn’t look at him, which the Daiyoukai found displeasing and unacceptable. Nonetheless, he walked away.

—-

Dark, wild hair had been tamed back into a low ponytail the next time he saw the miko. It was unfortunate that she happened to also see him. Oddly, the usual method of concealing his youki hadn’t worked, and she’d zeroed in on his presence within the trees. Perhaps she had much-untapped potential.

��Sesshoumaru?”

Gracefully dropping from the branches elicited a gasp from the woman. “Y-you’re injured!”

Sesshoumaru glanced at his shoulder wound. Blood had leaked into the red crest patterning his clothes, dying it a deeper crimson. “Hn.”

“Don’t you 'hn’ me! What happened? Why aren’t you treating it?” She fussed, approaching to grip the clean material of his white silks and try to pry them away from the wound, squinting at the slash marks.

“In a few hours this one will be healed. There is little reason to fuss, woman,” he tried to bat her hand away but surprise froze his veins when she caught his striped wrist. Her hands felt soft and smaller than his own, but firm and sure.

“I’m going to fetch my supplies. You wait here or I’ll damn track you down myself, got that?” She threatened, blue eyes sparking in such a way that they made the male twitch and wish for a different kind of touch from the miko. Sesshoumaru bit the inside of his cheek, watching her hurry away.

When she returned, Sesshoumaru had reclined against a tree, arm draped gracefully over one bent leg. The woman dropped to her knees before him and reached for his collar, gaze flicking to his wordlessly for permission.

He granted it by glancing away mutely, throat tight. For some reason, saliva pooled in his mouth the moment she began undressing him. It was foul to be affected so. She only aimed to aid him. Still, Sesshoumaru sat rigidly still while her gentle scent flitted and teased his senses.

“I think I’ve found a name for myself,” she hummed while cleaning his wound.

“Hn?”

“It’s Kagome.”

“That is acceptable.”

She giggled, “I’m glad you like it.”

“I did not say that.”

Kagome bandaged the flesh, despite him informing her that it was not necessary. He also did not stop her. Every faint brush of her fingertips became distracting, silently invited.

“It’s a really nice day,” she hummed, wiping her brow. The humidity made her bangs puff up. He hated that he found it endearing. “Perfect beach weather day. Does Rin enjoy going there? I’d love to meet her and take her paddling,” she babbled and cooed.

“I have not taken her. Why do you wish to go to the beach so badly? You mention it often.”

“Huh? I don’t think I’ve talked about it to you before?”

Sesshoumaru fell into moody silence, inwardly kicking himself. Thankfully she carried on, thinking she had a faulty memory rather than accusing him of eavesdropping. “I don’t know why exactly. I just keep feeling like it’s where I’ll find something important. Like I can see this image in my mind of the sun setting beyond the waves. It’s peaceful, but also kind of scary at the same time. Maybe it’s the last thing I saw before I died? Who knows.”

He glanced down, feeling hot breath fan over his exposed chest. “Hn…I suppose you were brought back from the same place Inuyasha intended to pull Kikyo from.”

“Mhm, though I don’t remember anything else about my previous life.” Kagome shrugged, fixing the silks back over his bandaged shoulder and smoothing the hankimono back into place over his chest. She fixed his collar with gentle hands, fussing like a wife.

A wife…

Sesshoumaru frowned slightly, startled to find her attention on his mouth. His heart started to pick up, blood heating when those intoxicating blue eyes flitted up to drink him in.

She abruptly broke the spell between them by getting to her feet and picking up the forgotten bandages and alcohol she’d used for disinfectant. Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out to lock on her wrist.

Kagome stilled, lips thinning. “Please let go, Sesshoumaru.”

“Do you intend to return to that whelp in such a hurry?”

“At least I’m not 'beneath his notice’.”

Golden eyes cracked a fraction wider. So, his words had truly been the ones to cause her sadness. They’d bothered her. His grip tightened slightly, causing her to flinch.

“You’re hurting me, let go.”

“A human like you should be beneath my notice,” he uttered, shifting to stand before her. Sesshoumaru took a step closer, leaning down. Pale strands fell loose from behind a pointed ear, rushing down to hide their faces from view behind a curtain of silver. “You are Inuyasha’s wench, a miko, a mortal. Many unsuitable things wrapped into one. And yet I linger…I wonder why.”

“So do I, since you clearly don’t want to be here,” she hissed lowly, cheeks blooming red.

Slit pupils grew a tad larger, dilating. Sesshoumaru inched closer, on the cusp of grasping something as their lips were but a hair’s breadth away- before she snapped her hand out, slapping him across the face.

Kagome ripped herself free, panting slightly and raising a hand to her lips. “I’m only good at archery now because you taught me, and I only wanted to be good at it because Inuyasha told me to be better. I have a name now because you told me to get one. I keep…doing things just because other people want them for me! You could’ve asked me to kiss you just then and I would’ve-” tears pricked her eyes. “Just like Inuyasha has asked me to kiss him and…”

She hugged her arms tightly to her body, shuddering and bowing in on herself, folding like crumpled paper. “I don’t know who I am. What I want. I-I don’t know if things would be any different with you, Sesshoumaru. So please, just leave me alone. You’re making me question things. I obviously do strange things to you too so let’s just drop whatever this is.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you are content with being his doll, then?”

“At least being a doll doesn’t hurt! He doesn’t see me, so it doesn’t feel as personal as getting rejected by someone whose opinion I care about!” Kagome snapped, light voice darkening into something raw and real. Sesshoumaru’s cheek stung despite her hand having left no mark, his skin too tough for such things.

Blue eyes filled with tears as she turned and fled, salt catching in the breeze.

—

Sesshoumaru marched with his troops. Remaining on the front lines of their latest battle, he raised his claws and bid the song of war to flood his veins.

The sensation did not come.

Bereft, Sesshoumaru found himself immensely sober with each life he took. The slash of his claws unhinging a jaw- his sword swinging to cleave a horse in two. All felt like a mechanism. Easy, flavourless.

After the enemy soldiers lay dead and he returned to his stronghold, Sesshoumaru listened to his men. They made merry throughout the night, demons through and through.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?”

Blinking, he glanced down at Rin from where he leaned against a pillar. She yawned and rubbed her eye with a tiny fist. “You’re covered in blood, my Lord.”

He supposed he hadn’t changed clothes. Looking at the little girl that he’d resurrected on a whim, Sesshoumaru was struck by a troubling revelation.

The Killing Perfection hadn’t enjoyed the killing.

A strange feeling permeated his being, new and foreign. Such insecurity did not belong in a being carved from confidence, but the blemish was there all the same.

He wanted the beach.

Giving a long, extinguished sigh, Sesshoumaru pinched the bridge of his nose with bloodied claws.

Sitting up from the futon, Kagome hugged the furs to her bare chest. Shivering from the chill in the air, she glanced down at Inuyasha’s sleeping face, a snore rumbling out of him.

An emptiness crawled higher within the bowels of her stomach, threatening to consume her lungs and steal her breath. Kagome pressed a hand to her mouth and hurried out of the hut. She’d given herself away. Allowed Inuyasha to indulge himself in her countless times now. And it wasn’t as though the hanyou hurt her- but every grunt and curse, every pleasured sigh of 'Kikyo’ dug deeper into her heart.

She’d told Sesshoumaru it didn’t hurt, but that had been a lie.

Squeezing stinging eyes shut, Kagome took a wobbly breath. Taking a few steadying gulps of air, she raised a tear-stained face to the crescent moon in the sky.

Setting her shoulders, something quietly shifted within the woman. She slapped her cheeks lightly and exhaled.

The next morning, while preparing breakfast, Kagome stilled when a hand reached over and lightly tugged on her wild bangs.

“Cut these,” Inuyasha said easily. “Kikyo had short, chopped bangs. I can cut em off later if ya want-”

“No.”

The hanyou blinked and froze, ears twitching. He then did a double-take, frowning. “What’d ya say?”

“I said no,” she muttered, resting clenched fists on her knees. “And there’s another thing; My name isn’t Kikyo. It’s Kagome.”

Inuyasha stared for a long while. Slowly, bushy brows drew down. His lips thinned, golden eyes hazing.

Kagome held his gaze, feeling a thrill of warning rush down her spine. It didn’t matter, she told herself. She’d always been an impostor, from her very first breath.

—-

Many moons had passed by the time Sesshoumaru lay eyes upon her.

Remaining under the shade of the trees, he watched as she gathered herbs. Kagome wore miko attire, dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Her skin looked paler, and he wondered if she’d either isolated herself indoors for a while or layered powder over her tanned skin. Even her frame looked thinner, from what he could tell.

The wild bangs that had fluffed up so endearingly in the humidity had been chopped into neater, more orderly bangs on her forehead. She did not chatter to herself or smile.

Rather, she worked diligently in silence. Inuyasha skinned a rabbit not too far away, his face content.

Sesshoumaru could’ve left things be then. He could have carried on with his life, never to be blemished or disrupted by confusing thoughts and desires for his brother’s miko again.

But then he happened to catch sight of her eyes.

Bursting from the treeline, Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out. Inuyasha’s snarl was ignored as the demon lord seized the woman’s chin and lifted it.

Sombre brown eyes stared back.

His own began to shake. “You are not her,” he breathed.

Kikyo frowned, her voice tempered and steeled like matured wine rather than the bright, confident tones of the other miko. “What are you talking about, demon? Unhand me at once.”

Sesshoumaru remained frozen until a hard force collided with his side, knocking him back enough to release her. Bellowing out an enraged snarl, Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out- locking tight around Inuyasha’s neck as they struggled.

“Where is the miko Kagome?” He demanded.

White ears flicked and pressed to his skull. “The fuck are you talking about? Whose Kagome?”

“Your wife!” Sesshoumaru snarled, flicking his fingers out towards Kikyo. “This is not the woman you had with you previously. Where is she?”

Inuyasha sank sharp claws into his striped wrist, but the Daiyoukai barely flinched. “Keh…ah I get it now,” he growled. “It wasn’t working out, so I asked the oni sorceress who first used the spell on her to reverse it. I then tried to bring back Kikyo again and it worked out,” golden eyes darkened slightly with hazy stability. “She’s back now. Kikyo’s returned to me. It just took a little time- had to remind her of all her memories, but this time it’s definitely her, not like the other one.”

The other one…

Kagome’s breathtaking smile briefly came to mind.

Sesshoumaru’s grip tightened until Inuyasha chocked and squirmed, sinking his claws deeper into the Daiyoukai’s pale flesh until they scraped bone.

“By 'reverse it’ what do you mean, whelp?” He snarled, throat so tight it strained.

“Gah!- she’s a doll again. A clay pot! Ogoranko took the clay body back!”

Sesshoumaru released him, sending the hanyou staggering to the floor. Heedless of the blood pooling to the surface, running down his tattered wrist, he turned and collected white energy around himself, bursting away from the earth within a bright, glowing orb of light. He left behind the reunited couple, Kikyo’s gaze apathetic as she watched Inuyasha struggle to catch his breath.

—

Flying as pure, unfiltered instinct, Sesshoumaru forgot himself. He was no longer a warlord bent on total conquest and domination of the lands. No longer an inuyoukai with superior breeding and impressive lineage. He was nothing more than the simple, consuming desire to see someone again.

The glowing orb blasted straight through the door to Ogoranko’s workshop. She shrieked and grabbed her scythe- but felt it be knocked aside seconds before a hand met her neck, grasping tight. Her head met the wall, grey hair flying around her as a harsh choke sounded out. She wriggled, trying to get free.

The light died down, causing her eyes to widen and narrow. “You are not one of my previous customers…what does the Lord of the West want with me?” She hissed.

“Where is the clay body you took from Inuyasha?” He uttered quietly, voice like the finest steel wrapped in velvet. A calm before the storm.

Her brows drew together in confusion. “I-if you wish to have a loved one returned to you, I can perform the spell-” his hand tightened.

“The body. Where is it?”

“Gah- ah! O-out the back!”

Sesshoumaru released her and sped outside in a blur of white. He moved around the back of the meagre house, heart dropping into the depths of his stomach.

A large, deep pit had been dug into the earth, opening wide and vast. Countless clay bodies had been dumped inside it like a mass grave. They were featureless, faceless, yet retained the arms, legs and the general shape of a human. Sesshoumaru stared down at their discarded forms.

A cough sounded out beside him, Ogoranko rubbing her throbbing neck. “They’re quite useless once they’ve been used one time. They can’t be reformed into clay or burned down. Only thing left to do is bury them. Urasue herself taught me the spell but my techniques aren’t quite as refined as my great master. I can fashion a new body for you though my Lord- ah…my Lord?” Red eyes widened with disbelief as he pushed off the edge of the pit, sailing down. “There is nothing down there,” she called after him.

Sesshoumaru ignored her.

Landing on a mound of bodies, he began filtering through the different scents left behind on the clay surfaces. Moving some puppets aside, he lifted a few out of the pile and discarded them, deaf to how they chipped or shattered. Pushing his sleeves up, Sesshoumaru worked with single-minded intent, skin becoming stained with dust as he dug both arms down through the piles, searching.

He began to pant. Panic erupted in his chest though he were in no danger. Sticky fear leaked into his body like tar. Where was she? Why couldn’t he…

The scent of salt caught his attention. Lifting his head, Sesshoumaru softly muttered to himself; “the beach.”

Ogoranko blinked, observing him. It wasn’t every day you witnessed a demon lord lose his mind, especially not one of his calibre. “Yes, the ocean is just south of here.”

Sesshoumaru looked at the bodies. Their heads were all facing forwards, staring up at the sky with blank, smooth faces of clay. His frayed attention slid over them, and he moved to another pile, catching sight of one head turned south just as a familiar scent caught his nose.

Reaching out, Sesshoumaru picked up the fragile body, lifting it into his arms. She looked exactly like the rest, no distinguishing features, save for her attention on the sea beyond.

“What happened when you reversed the spell on Inuyasha’s wife?” Sesshoumaru said faintly.

Ogoranko hummed, “I took her back here and then discarded her with the rest. Ah, did you favour her, my Lord?” Her voice dipped into suggestive tones. “I can resurrect her for a reasonable price. Say the word and I shall-”

“Now I see.” Sesshoumaru appeared next to her, gaze blank and removed. A thrill of warning rattled down the oni sorceresses spine at how perfectly calm and apathetic he appeared towards her existence. Like how one might view a candle they were about to extinguish. “You prey upon a creature’s grief and offer a solution. Something too good to be true,” chuckling in a deceptively gentle tone, he held the clay miko a little closer. “And if I gave her over to you, yes…you’d resurrect this body with a soul. But not hers. A random one. That is all you are capable of at your level.”

Organko quickly reached for the knife hidden in her obi, intent on striking it through his windpipe.

A hand impaled itself through her chest. Easily. So painfully easily he may as well have cleaved through butter. Choking, she cried out, staring into his merciless, wintery eyes, the likes of which she’d never seen in all her years of rifling through souls in the afterlife.

“Only a God can restore a soul to their rightful body,” Sesshoumaru uttered, rippling his hand free of her torso and shifting to hold the clay figure with both arms, walking away.

Ogoranko wailed and clutched fruitlessly at her wound, crumpling to her knees and bleeding out, never to rise again.

He took her to the beach.

Soft, pleasant oranges bathed the clay in a gentle glow. Sesshoumaru set the body down on the white sands, steeling himself. He then reached for Tenseiga with a bloodied hand.

Drawing the sword forth from its sheath, he inhaled the salty breeze, soothed when it combed silver hair back from his shoulders in a sweet caress. Tenseiga lay silent.

Frowning, Sesshoumaru gripped the hilt tighter. “You will do this thing for me and bring her back,” he uttered in a dark voice. “If my Father wielded you to resurrect life from a body that has recently been cut down, I will imbue you with my own will. Heed me well,” he fed youki into the blade, effectively mirroring Kagome’s imagery of running water. His burst forth like a geyser, forcing itself into the blade so quick the sword could barely contain it. “Find the soul of the one I seek.”

Tenseiga rattled, wishing to be free of him. Sesshoumaru held tight, threatening to break the sword in two.

Blue light burst forth from the blade, shining so bright it rivalled the setting sun. Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and tried to focus on Kagome’s fleeting scent on the clay.

“Kagome. Come.”

A faint, flickering presence could be felt, drawing just out of reach from Tenseiga’s light. It hesitated, worn thin.

Blood ran down Sesshoumaru’s torn wrist, landing on the blade. “I desire you to join my side,” he admitted in a hushed tone. “However, it is your choice. If you must live, do not live for anyone’s will but your own this time,” the words came to him like a quiet revelation.

He then struck the blade down over the clay body.

Tenseiga made a noise of distress, blue sparks bursting forth before the light sputtered and died, swallowed up by the sun.

Sesshoumaru tried to force the blade to awaken once more, but it remained silent. Nothing about the clay shifted.

Sliding the sword back into its sheath with more force than necessary, thin lips peeled back to show gritted teeth. “Useless,” he chastised the blade. Easier to think Tenseiga was to blame than to accept that Kagome…bright, beautiful Kagome- should refuse to live again.

Giving one last look at the clay figure, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and padded away. He’d allow her to be taken by the sea she so adored, rather than dig a grave. His heart sat like a heavy stone within his chest. Every nerve ending shrieked, skin-crawling like it did not belong on his bones.

Crack.

Pointed ears twitched.

Crack.

More cracks joined the first, spilling out like spiders webs. The clay began to split, crumbling away like sand.

A woman sat up from the overcoat, coughing. Sesshoumaru stopped dead, turning back with disbelief. Golden eyes widened.

Broken clay fell from dark hair, catching in the curling, wild mane. Her tanned, bare skin caught the light of the sun. Frightened, wide blue eyes struck an unknown part of him right into his core. Sesshoumaru blurred through the air.

Strong hands caught her elbows as she tried to stand, the two kneeling together. Kagome sobbed as she bowed into him, wrapping trembling arms around his neck. Calloused palms, rough with years of swordplay, slid around her waist and dragged up her spine, bringing her into his warmth.

“I h-heard a voice, calling my name,” she said, voice tenuous and thin as she sobbed. “It was yours.”

“Hn, Ka-go-me,” Sesshoumaru’s lips peppered her soft hair, the shell of her ear, her wet cheek.

Giving a broken noise, she clung to his solid figure, blunt nails sinking hard into his back. He did not mind the sensation.

“S-say it again.”

Sesshoumaru ran his hands over her body, moving his mouth over her jaw. “Kagome.”

She shivered and bowed in on herself, hiccuping. They remained like that for some time, Sesshoumaru unused to the burning, open display of feelings yet having no choice but to weather the storm of emotion with her, both hers and his own.

Feeling a wet and sticky sensation down her back, Kagome pulled away to touch the area above his bleeding wrist. “Silly, you’re injured.”

“It is of little consequence.”

“Of course its of consequence,” she sighed, rubbing her cheek. Silence reigned between them for a moment, only broken by the gentle crash of waves on the rocks. The ebb and flow of the tide.

“…Why did you come back for me?”

Noticing the goosebumps racing over her flesh, Sesshoumaru curled mokomoko around her middle. Golden eyes flitted away towards the sunset. “This one dislikes waste.”

“Ah,” a quiet, fragile laugh escaped her. Gratitude welled up like an inflated bubble when he flicked the secures of his armour open and lifted it away from his chest, discarding it into the sand to land with a heavy thud. Pressing close with no barrier between them, Kagome tucked her knees up, sitting on his lap. Sesshoumaru’s trailing sleeves slid over her bare form, regal nose buried in her hair. “I don’t know why I even returned,” she mumbled. “I mean look at that. We’re on a beach at sunset. My one wish is fulfilled. I don’t really know what else to live for…just that I want to.”

“I find myself dissatisfied with my own wish these days. My desire for supreme conquest,” Sesshoumaru admitted, a sin, surely, for a warlord to feel no passion for the prospect of battle.

Kagome hummed, watching the waves. “Maybe it’s possible to simply move onto a new wish. Dreams and desires can change, can’t they?”

“Hn, we may yet find new ones to pursue.” Tired golden eyes slid down to her, catching the sunlight just as the great orb slipped beneath the horizon. “Together, foolish miko.”

Kagome lifted her head. She watched him for a moment, before pressing a long, firm kiss to his jaw. “I’d like that very much, Killing Perfection.”

Bowing his head to catch her soft lips with his own, Sesshoumaru cradled the back of her neck, curling long fingers within dark hair and silently adoring the way it tumbled wildly down her back.

The Demon Lord was not supposed to be a part of the man who married for love’s tale. And yet, like a bookend, the story ends with him on a beach.

Embracing the discarded woman.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #Sesshoumaru #Kagome Higurashi

[obutsuwrites]

tengu!hawks wip, part 2 (hawks x f!reader)

summary: hey gang, obu here. ive been getting sum mail abt a part 2, so here we are! 

warnings: blood, light yandere elements

this preview is 949 words

my ask is open for thirsts/headcannons + my commission info is here

masterlist | tipjar | part 1

Yukata - a Japanese garment, a casual summer kimono, usually made of cotton or synthetic fabric, and unlined

She awoke, hands painfully bound to a cool, wet surface. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. It was an abyss devoid of light and sound. In vain, the princess tried to remember her life before this, but only drew a harsh blank, like an artist staring into the disappointment of a fresh canvas. The room was silent, a grave made just for her. Stubborn legs tried to move, which sent an ache that traveled up her body like lightning. Her body felt bruised, battered, defeated. 

“H-help!” The princess winced at her own voice. It was raspy and pathetic, as if she hadn’t spoken in centuries. She wiggled her fingers, trying to get blood flow back into stiff limbs, and wondered how long she had been inside this chasm. Days? Months? Years? She certainly didn’t feel any older. The woman felt exposed and bare, her body no longer shielded by a silken nightgown. Her body now laid naked and vulnerable. It reminded her of something familiar, something awful. The princess tried to shake the feeling as heavy footsteps echoed throughout the chamber. Dread dropped itself into her throat, soaking up what little saliva she had. Chapped lips smacked together, cracking as blood lightly dusted them. 

The footsteps stopped in front of her; the scent of sandalwood and sakura tickling her nose. 

“My little bird is finally awake, was a little worried you’d sleep forever.” Some distant part of the woman recognized the voice, but it was buried underneath the fear that clutched onto her heart, which hammered against her chest. The sound was deafening and heavy, a war cry wanting to escape.

Fearful eyes were met with luminous yellow orbs. Such carnivorous eyes seemed to be the only light source within the dank chasm. A large hand palmed the princess’ cheek and a soft thumb began to rub circles. The sensation was almost comforting. 

A whimper escaped blubbering lips as the stranger continued to massage her cheek. “Pl-please stop. I don’t… I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything,” she muttered, her voice like the squeak of a mouse; meek and helpless. “Help -- please help me!” 

Their eyes crinkled, as if a smile wormed itself onto the stranger’s face, “Don’t you remember, little songbird? We’re married.” 

The room filled with orange light and the overwhelming scent of brimstone, as if the sun itself had collapsed. Her eyes adjusted to the brightness and saw a man before her; lean and dressed in a simple yukata, hair feathery and golden. Under different circumstances, he could have been a suitor with such handsome features, but now he only represented terror. 

His face seemed familiar, but this couldn’t be her husband. A husband wouldn’t keep his beloved locked away, naked as the day she was born. In defiance, the princess sharply turned her head away from the man’s touch. The man left a bad taste in her mouth; a slimy bitterness that sent shivers up her spine. 

Keigo was annoyed. This woman -- his lover -- had promised herself to him and yet acted like the tengu was a beast. He had saved her. He was her savior. ‘Ungrateful little brat, but we can fix that.’

The tengu harshly grabbed her face, forcing the princess to look within his amber orbs. Neatly cut nails were replaced with overgrown talons; barbed and pointed. Keigo’s face had grown monstrous. Crimson and obsidian feathers sprouted along his cheeks and ended at the tip of his chin. He resembled more of a raptor than a man. 

“So difficult, birdie,” he spoke as talons began to dig into soft flesh, “we already cemented our love, don’t you want to do it again?” 

‘He’s sick. This is sick.’ Flashes of a man above her and the feeling of heat play in her mind as talons pierce soft flesh. 

“I…” She sounded so meek and little; so perfectly vulnerable and helpless.

Keigo saw a drip of blood cascade down his lover’s cheek, and sighed with content. This was his preferred view of her. He wanted to ravage her and build the woman up in his perverse image. Releasing her, Keigo rubbed a finger against the insignificant wound on her face. He had to fight the primal need to lap at it and instead opted to stick his now bloodied finger in his mouth. 

The man before her looked less unnatural now as she watched him suck on the finger that prodded her face. One word came into her mind. A word that sounded familiar and terrifying; oni. This obscene man -- this obscene creature was an oni, and she was now a prisoner within his den. She struggled to remember what this meant, but only drew forth images of two bodies slick with sweat under a moonless night. 

“I’m naked. Can I -- please can I have some clothes?” The princess begged, tone hopeful and desperate. Keigo resented the hope that still lived within her. His prideful heart desired his lover to be dependent solely on him; not begging and pathetic. 

Keigo roughly palmed her breast, earning a yelp.

“So you do make good noises, huh? Thought you’d just whimper and plead,” he commented as he tweaked a sensitive nipple. He looked almost thoughtful as fingers danced across the woman’s bare chest, until yellow eyes lit up with perverse excitement. Quickly, Keigo scrambled atop his lover, the heat of her body radiating and pure. ‘A mixture of our sin,’ the tengu thought as he greedily inhaled her scent. Keigo wanted to lay like this with her for an eternity, petting and bruising the woman until she was permanently marked as his. “It’s okay, my little songbird. I’ll cover your shame like a good husband.”

#hawks x reader #yandere hawks #yandere bnha #keigo x reader