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#he would eat the blood blossom that he has

mirai-e-jump · 22 hours

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ViVi Magazine, June 2024 Issue ft. Murakami Erica, Watanabe Aoto & Ikeda Masashi (translations below)

Publication: 4/23/2024

The King-Ohger co stars are a friendly trio Murakami Erica x Watanabe Aoto x Ikeda Masashi

Enjoying genderless "share t-shirts"

If you incorporate a unisex t-shirt into your outfit, you can achieve an easy, high end fashionable look 💛. It's also nice to share and enjoy them together with your boyfriend or friends.

Q: Tell us about a recent TMI (too much info)

Ikeda: For me, my chapstick always ends up somewhere before it's used up. Where does it always go?!

Erica: I've been busy moving across the country due to my family's relocation! I decluttered more than 10 bags during the cleanup. I think luck is coming my way 💛

Watanabe: TMI……you mean like blood sugar level?! Ah, that's not it either (laughs). My allergies act up during the first week of pollen season, but after that I'm fine. There are other people like that, right?

Q: What do you want to do this Spring?

Erica: I want to relax in the shade of a tree when it becomes warmer. I want to buy some dangos and donuts and spend my time watching movies and dramas.

Watanabe: Cherry blossom viewing. It's so fleeting when the cherry blossoms fall……(he gently holds Ikeda's hand). I'd like to eat a handmade bento while taking in the scent of Spring…(he gazes at Ikeda).

Ikeda: I'd like to challenge myself to go camping. Things like outdoor BBQ's are just the best, aren't they? At night, with Aoto beside me, we'd talk while looking at the stars……

Watanabe: In the tent, Masashi and I would be curled up in the same blanket. It gets cold at night, so…..

Erica: Alright, that's enough of that!! (laughs). _

"Introduce each other to the ViVi readers!"

Ikeda: Erieri's (Erica) face is really too small! Her skull's a champion. She's the big sister among the King-Ohger members.

Watanabe: Yeah. She's an airhead, but very caring!

Erica: Eh~ Thank you 💛. Aoto feels like the kind older brother, while Masashi is the second oldest who says too much.

Watanabe: Masashi is by far the whitest! He's like a reflector, illuminating everywhere he goes (laughs).

"What do you think of today's t-shirts?"

Erica: I like the loose fit. The shoulders are dyed unevenly, giving it a cute vintage look! I think you can wear it with denim for a masculine look, or match it with a miniskirt!

Ikeda: My "remake t-shirt" has a zipper and alternate designs that give off the feeling of an incomplete main character. This is cute on its own, but the jacket wrapped around the waist gives it a more feminine look.

Watanabe: Heart motifs worn by men are pretty rare, right? Depending on your hair style, you can wear it as cool or cute!

"If you exchanged t-shirts, how would you wear them?"

Erica: If I were to wear Aoto's heart t-shirt, I'd wear it with a mini skirt, lace socks, and mary janes for a "naughty girly" look!

Ikeda: If I were to wear Erieri's t-shirt, I'd make use of colors and patterns to create a one tone look!

Watanabe: Then, I'll wear Masashi's remake t-shirt with a unique hat and shoes to give it alittle more character. I want to go to a theme park while looking good. _

(Bottom of page)

(Masashi) Pure white prince (Isn't he too fleeting? he's going to disappear). by Aoto

(Erica) Princess Erica, of divine skeletal structure, descends here. by Masashi

(Aoto) Isn't he a genuine model?! I'm now realizing his appeal! by Erica

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moonlight-stalker · 11 months

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# 17

The Justice League try to threaten Danny saying that if he dose not start talking then they will have to hand him over to thr GIW when Danny does not talk they tell him that there going to connect the GIW when they leave his cell and go to the camera they had there heart drop when they see Danny pull out a little vile and what look like a red flower be eaten when they run un they hear him say " I would rather die a second death then go back to the table." before pasting out

#dcxdp #my post #dcxdp prompt #danny dose nor what to go to thw giw #and if he is ever cought again #he would eat the blood blossom that he has #the Justice League are horrified that a child would do something like that

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luveline · 1 month

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You mentioned in one post that bombshell!reader was furious with the team for not helping Reid with his addiction (as she should be)…. Would you maybe write about her helping him thru withdrawal or thru the cravings that follow? Maybe subtly at first, then just making sure he knew he wasn’t alone? Just some tender moments where Spencer starts to realize she actually cares about him, even if he doesn’t believe her flirting yet.

-🌕

I love every single thing you write, even for fandoms I’m not even in. You’re amazing!!

thank you for requesting my sweetheart!!! I really hope this is what you wanted, love you <3 fem!reader

cw past drug abuse

“Hi, Spencer Reid.”

You perch on the edge of his desk with no further introduction. You’ve changed perfumes, to his immediate recognition, the rich smell of your usual parfum swapped for a less consuming scent. He detects apple blossom, and rose, the smallest hint of jasmine, a contrast to your usual vanilla and peony. The human brain can remember 50,000 scents, and Spencer can remember all of yours. Or, he could.

“You’re not saying hi anymore?”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi. It’s nice to see you.” You put your hand on his. Spencer isn’t sure you’ve ever touched his hand before, he’s never really let you, but he doesn’t move away. A huge winding of tension between his shoulders begins to unspool. “It’s really nice to see you, babe. I’ve missed you tons and tons.”

He looks up tentatively. “You have?”

“I have. I haven’t really been invited, today. I’m just here to see you.”

“Why?” Spencer asks.

You tighten your fingers on his hand. “Missed you. Thought maybe we should, like…” And that’s unusual, for you to use filler words, Spencer doesn’t know what to think of it. “Well, I have something to say to you, and it’s going to either sound reassuring or ridiculous.”

“Okay.”

You give him a withering look. “Don’t make it any easier for me.”

He laughs. The sound alone fosters your smile. “Sorry,” he says softly, “I doubt it’ll be ridiculous.”

“Spencer Reid, we are friends. We are. But we never do anything outside of work, so I was thinking you could come over tonight and we’d make dinner and watch TV and stuff.”

“And stuff.”

“I’m a bit nervous,” you confess, looking down at your lap, then quickly back up into his face, “I’m worried you won’t want to.”

You’re kind to avoid saying what he’s sure you’re thinking; you’re worried he won’t want to spend the night with you, and instead will look down the long barrel of a small needle. Or, he thinks that’s what you’re thinking. He does it to everyone.

“What do you want to make for dinner?” he asks.

“What are you enjoying lately?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m not really eating.”

“Cereal?”

“Yes,” he laughs. “Lots of cereal.”

You tap the wheel of his chair with your heel. You’re dressed as though you aren’t working, wearing a sweet dark dress with a starched collar and baby sleeves, stockings, and a necklace at your neck that glows with a small white crystal. You look amazing. It never makes any sense to Spencer, why you’d taken an interest in him, and why you bother now. He knows he’s hard to care for. He knows he’s making it worse.

You look up and down his face. You must see the purple half circles beneath his eyes, the crack at the corner of his mouth, the cut he can’t stop picking on his cheek. Every time it scabs, he opens it again. One second he’s sitting there and the next he’s got blood under his fingernail.

“Hug?” you ask hopefully.

He goes to stand. You move in too fast and wrap your arms around him, leg slotting between his, leaning over his shoulders with a distinct sense of protectiveness. You squeeze him, a little sigh escaping you that sounds loud so close to his ear.

“How has it been this week?” you ask quietly.

“It’s fine.” He cups your back in his arm carefully. The other wraps tight around the small of it. He soaks you up, scared you’re gonna pull away any second.

“How are you feeling about it? Do you need any extra help?”

He cringes. “No,” he says. “It’s really fine.”

“When you texted me, about the cravings? What are they like today?”

He wishes he could breathe in the smell of your perfume and your skin and tell you they’re all better now. It would make sense; there isn’t much in his life that hasn’t been made better by your attention. He’d struggle to do this without you. You’re his only friend who actually cared enough to say the problem out loud, but you’re just a woman, you can’t work the sort of magic necessary to kick this for him.

“Spencer?” You pull away, nudging his cheek with the back of your finger.

“They’re okay. I’m not gonna do anything.”

“Good, honey. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is.”

He bites the inside of his lip, surprised at your caring. He shouldn’t be.

“What are you two whispering about?”

You and Spencer have different reactions to Emily’s sudden question. He flinches like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you, still vaguely pissed with everyone for not telling you Spencer was struggling and not afraid to show it, keep your eyes trained on his face.

“Nothing,” Spencer says.

You turn to her with a small smile. You still like her, Spencer knows. Secretly, he’s pleased you’re angry for him. It’s nice to have someone so obviously on his side. “We’re just deciding what to get for dinner.”

“Oh, nice. Date night?” she teases.

You press your cheek to his forehead. “Date night,” you agree, your hand unmissable where it bunches in his sweater near his heart.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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cherubify · 1 month

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SERVICE CHARGE / LEON KENNEDY

6.5k words, based on this

cw: waitress f!reader, blackmail, stalker, power abuse, noncon, dubcon, (unprotected) p-in-v, fellatio, spanking, implied cunnilingus, dirty talk, corruption kink, breeding, lack of aftercare, mentions of blood (no bloodplay) / minors dni

a/n: big thanks to @xoxostarlet for beta reading! pls check out her work it's vry yummy! n thanks for 50+ follows!! also i hc this as post re4 leon bcs of my og drabble but it can be di/ vendetta leon too it works even bttr ok bye!!

Leon’s not quite sure why he’s so taken with you– a girl waitering at your family’s restaurant, a dingy place in the outskirts of the city. Maybe it’s because he’s a simple guy- sees a pretty, little thing and can’t help but fantasise about you. You’re younger than he’d like, but old enough to warrant his wandering gaze at the way your oil stained apron wraps around your perfect waist, at the knotted ribbon you always messily tie that rests on the swell of your cheeks. You’re practically an angel in his eyes, your halo the form of a sloppily tied hair bun that sits atop your head with unruly strands sticking out.

Maybe it’s because you’re quite a character- armed with rather polite comebacks and one liners that you dish out to ungrateful, difficult customers. Of course, you’re so well loved by the regulars (him included) that you barely have to lift a finger to kick them out yourself. Everyone here in this tiny family restaurant loved you, their perfect waitress with the perfect smile. You’re enthusiastic about your mundane job too, fast on your feet and even faster with your words when running through demanding orders.

Maybe it’s because you’re still so young that you have this amount of energy. Or maybe it’s because of the lack of hired hands that you had to work with ten times the amount of energy you should normally exert. He remembers caring more about details and the nitty gritty things when he was your age. But he digresses.

Whatever it is, he thinks you’re quite the charmer. You have him wrapped around your little finger, and he’d like to make it known to you. But the trouble lies in your denseness. You’re beyond saving with how each of his flirtatious comments would fly over your head, soar, even. With how clueless you were, it was a safe bet to assume you were a dumb little girl who had yet to have her cherry popped. Just a silly virgin playing the pretence of an adult.

Oh right, that’s another reason why he’s so taken by you. The idea of ruining you was exhilarating– worth the trouble of driving for half an hour after work to this hole in the wall just to see you. He finds himself wondering how you’d look bent over the tiny bathroom sink in the back of the shop, jeans pooling at your ankles as he eats your cute butt. Oh, how he’d love to unravel you with only a thin door separating you and your customers and parents.

He has to thank his superiors for meeting you. If it weren’t for that random party they held that night, he probably would never have touched this decrepit store. (For him, an hour away from home meant one less hour to kiss his bed.) That night you had introduced yourself as their waitress and patiently guided them through the menu with recommendations.

The waitress before him with quite the looker, pretty despite the mess on her apron and the sweat that clung to the nape of her neck. How old were you? In your late teens– or maybe your blossoming twenties? He searched your eyes for answers, while you tucked your loose hair behind your ear and waited patiently for his table to decide. He made small talk because that’s something he’s gotten good at with the ladies.

“Quite the establishment you’ve got running here.” He commented as he gestured at the rowdiness with his eyes. You snapped out of your frozen daze to meet his blue eyes. Was this hottie talking to you? You swallowed nervously and wrung your fingers together.

“Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly. “It’s always like this after eight til closing hours. These guys trod in here after work and take it out with booze.”

“I can see that. Your parents own the place, hun?” He asked.

“For twenty years. Going stronger than ever,” you nodded. He smiled and asked for your name, and you willingly gave it with a demure smile.

Your name fits you, perfect for an angel such as yourself, he thought. His coworkers paid you little attention in their drunken state; this was their second round of restaurant hopping. Leon had to remain sober to chauffeur them home, and he was glad that he was sober enough to see and not forget you. You wouldn’t become a blurred image, a forgotten ghost in his memories as a result of intoxication. He was glad he was the only one who would remember this encounter.

On the way out, he had an arm supporting his fallen coworker. You held the door open, not minding the men who leaned lifelessly against his car like mannequins. You seemed amused, casual about the blacked out group that left the store blacked out drunk. Must have seen it a lot, he assumed.

“Do patronise us again, Mr Kennedy. Preferably when it’s not rush hour,” you had chuckled lightly.

And if such a pretty girl like you asked so sweetly, who was he to deny you? So he came as often as he could. You were always busy with attending to other customers, barely having enough time to sacrifice for idle chatter. He needed idle chatter, enough to grow your curiosity in him to be interested.

To get your attention, he would pull out a lighter (an expired one of his, a convincing prop) and click it a few times, cigarette pursed between his lips. And somehow, miraculously over the sea of rowdy customers you always heard it. The clicking over the cacophony in the restaurant. And like clockwork, you would storm over to warn him not to smoke inside.

“Mr Kennedy!” You placed your hands on your hips, frowning. Your brows were scrunched up in a disapproving frown whilst a pout played on your lips.

“It’s Leon,” he said while pocketing the bud and lighter. The grin on his face of hardened features made him look way younger– but you snapped out of your thoughts to fold your arms across your chest.

“Well, Leon,” he shivered at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. A buttery sound, gentle but firm like your nature. “I told you we don’t allow smoking in our shop. If you want, there’s a quiet alley beside us for it.”

“I know, I know,” he shrugged, and you’d roll your eyes in feigned annoyance before asking for his order.

You placed his menu before him, and without opening it, he recited his usual. And this cycle occurred over and over again like a broken record. Your reactions were the same, albeit less exasperated each time as you got used to his antics. He could tell– he was starting to grow on you.

He would leave generous tips for you too thanks to his expandable wallet. You know, for the service charge. The first few visits you fought to return the money because even though you were poor and desperate, you weren’t going to accept hundreds like it was nothing!

“Mr Ke- Um, Leon. I really can’t accept this,” you shook your head and pushed the stack of bills to his chest.

“Just take it. For the great service.”

“I really can’t, you always leave me no choice.” You frowned but pocketed it anyway. Couldn’t argue with the man who loomed over you even with a counter separating him from you. It made you nervous, and you lacked the heart to push, unlike with other customers.

“Why can’t you?” The blonde asked as you showed him out. Holding the door with your back, you shook your head.

“My parents already think you’re a mafioso with the amount of money you tip. Anymore and I don’t know what they’ll make of you!”

Aw, you were concerned for him? Little ol’ him? He wanted to swipe a thumb over the pout playing on your plush lips and kiss you. Kiss you and lead you to the alleyway beside your family store and take you then and there. How would you react to that, he wondered? Would you be happy?

He was answered instantly when your eyes lit up at something behind him. He turned to see a beat down Toyota in the driveway, and a skinny guy clambered out with a backpack, books in hand. Your face glowed radiantly. Leon wondered what you saw in that awkward boy. You bid Leon goodbye with a stutter and led the boy in, leaving poor Leon to stand on the porch with a disgruntled expression and stinging in his chest. He knew the answer to his earlier question: probably not, because you already had a thing for someone else.

Leon visited again during one of your quieter shifts. During a weekday, on his time off. You sat in the corner of the store with the same boy while doing homework together. When he said something, your face lit up and you laughed toothily. A genuine, earnest and bright smile. Something he never got to witness, receiving only your customer service smiles when he cracked his best jokes for you.

But he couldn’t bring himself to stay mad at you for long. It couldn’t be helped that you were just a doe-eyed girl who didn’t know how to appreciate him. No matter, he could teach you how. Since you were lacking the brain cells to even try. But first, he had to do something about that boy.

It was easier than stealing candy from a baby. Just a few documents and the boy’s home was evicted. He knew the rest, but as you sat across Leon, face buried in your arms as you shared the story, he listened. It was like playing a video game and being spoiled of its ending. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave your side as you sniffled about your new ex-boyfriend. Your first one, too. He really helped you dodge a bullet, and you should be thanking him instead of ruining his dinner table with your tears. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but he swallowed it.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, even though there was no one else in the store but you two. (And your parents as they watched from the kitchen. His eyes met theirs, and they whispered not so discreetly to one another and he smirked.) He patted your head, and you flinched at the unexpected weight on your head. He mussed your hair with a (fake) smile.

“It’s all gonna work out, I promise.”

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed. But you nodded anyway. Good, as you should. You need not question him; just listen and obey.

Months easily passed as he played this game of cat and mouse with you. You, the unsuspecting mouse, who had grown to trust him. Fondly, maybe. He knew what you saw in him- a reliable, honest regular who gave you good advice and helped you at times in need. And it was true, from the goodness of his heart, he was at your every beck and call. And he would be forevermore, even if you rebuked him to the depths of hell, where he rightfully belonged.

So one day, when you looked worse for wear, he asked if something was up. You shared with a tired smile that you’ve been struggling to focus in class lately due to the influx of new customers. A food critic had written a blog post about the store and business boomed. He had to find out who the culprit was and take down their site, but that was for later.

He perked up when you shared that you wanted to put flyers around the neighbourhood to hire more workers. So he offered to help. He had a car, so he could spread the word further and get the job done faster than on foot, he reasoned.

“Thank you so much. You’re the best, Leon!”

Your eyes shone with relief and you threw your arms around him. He caught you, albeit with surprise. You showered him with gratitude while clinging to him as he sat, shellshocked in his seat.

Your first hug. Your curves were soft against his hardened one, and his hands itched to hug you back, to trail down your smaller body and feel you through your work clothes. But Leon steadied himself- he had to win the game in the long run, he couldn’t afford to drop out of the race so soon. The blonde retreated his hands and cleared his throat, and you practically crawled off him. Your hand bumped into the tent between his pants, but thankfully you were too flustered to notice.

“U-Um, I’ll pay you back,” you had said, and you offered him a shy smile. “Not that I have much but I’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

“How about a kiss?” He prompted with a lopsided smile. Oops, that was an impulsive move. Like chasing the king’s piece while neglecting the imposing queen a few tiles away. Said queen being your parents, who stared at you disapprovingly like you had shed your angelic wings for those of a demon’s.

Your mouth gaped open for a moment but then you shook your head. “You shouldn’t tease me,” you whispered, hands rubbing your arms awkwardly.

His face fell, but he recovered with a boyish grin.

“Just pulling your leg. ‘S all good!”

It wasn’t good. His plans crumbled because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Now it was awkward between you two. He found the papers you put up yourself and threw them onto the passenger seat, a messy pile with the share you had given him for his part. He clicked his tongue and shredded the flyers that you painstakingly designed, tossing the pieces out the window as he raced down the highway home in his car. He had to push harder, find other ways to corner you so you wouldn't be able to refuse him. Not again.

Once he reached home, he practically inhaled his shirt, where your scent faintly clung. It was intoxicating, the heat of your body pressed against his and the smell of your sweat mixed with your natural scent. God, you knew how to rile him up without even trying. His cock was painfully hard in his fist as he laid on his bed, stroking himself with his jacket to his face.

When he arrived at the establishment the next day he found you in the back– in the kitchen– where you hung your head in shame while scrubbing dishes. He had caused quite the scene in the store; your father had mustered the courage to warn him (albeit politely) not to lay a hand on his precious daughter. It was quite funny, the man shook like a leaf as he weakly poked a finger into Leon’s chest. It was astonishing and hilarious at how his voice choked whilst dishing out empty threats of what he’d do to Leon if he messed with his girl. All the while your back faced him, unwilling to speak for the next few weeks.

Your parents had taken it on themselves to switch shifts with you whenever he appeared. They practically had his visiting hours memorised too, so it wasn’t like he could waltz in whenever he pleased. They were a pain, an overprotective bunch. For a grown up miss like yourself, it was a wonder why they were still so protective. Probably because they could recognise a wolf in sheep's clothing the moment he walked into their restaurant a second time, eyes prowling until they landed on you.

It mattered not because he would have his way whether they approved or not. He needed no consent form, and not from you either.

…

Your family’s restaurant was on the ground floor of a little building you stayed in. Your residency was located on the second floor, off limits to customers by a locked door. Nothing a little lock picking could solve, thankfully.

Nobody but you was home, he made sure of that when he saw your parents leave in their car. He wasn’t quite sure where you were, but when the sound of running water leaked into the empty hallway, a smile creeped onto his face. His eyes fell on one door that was coloured differently from the rest. There you were. The door creaked ajar, and he peered from the thin gap to see you standing in a glass box. It was humid, water vapour swirled around the bathroom whilst condensation fogged the shower, leaving him little but enough to see.

The shower was turned off, and your hands mindlessly trailed down your body as you scrubbed it with a loofa. You bent over, reaching for your toes, and Leon almost burst in to take you there himself. The growing tightness in his pants hurt, and hell your perfect ass was beckoning him like a sailor to a siren’s call. You hummed softly, blissfully unaware of the man ogling your flushed, naked body.

He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he shakily took out his phone. The sound of the camera clicking was muffled by the echoing sound of the shower as you sung your silly song. When he had his fill, he took one last longing glance before closing the door behind him.

Women spend forever in showers. Assuming this, he snuck into your room. It was simple, save for the abnormal mountains of plushies that lined your bed and your shelves. Japanese merchandise everywhere– he recognised a smaller white bear next to a much bigger brown one. Rilakkuma, or something. You had quite the collection. Were you fans of those bears? Should he gift you some? Ah, but your parents would toss them into the fire. As his mind somersaulted from one reckless thought to another, he noticed a laundry basket in the corner of your room.

He sauntered over and peered at its contents with sparkling blue eyes. He lifted your sweaters and produced a white one with a pink bow on the front. Your used panties. His heart hammered in his chest as he held it with trembling fingers. The blonde sniffed the damp patch on the gusset and groaned. His dick was already aching to be freed earlier when he saw you in the shower. Now his balls were clenching and screaming for release.

But it would be a waste to stop now. He didn’t know when you would return. So he pocketed the article of clothing and continued rummaging through your possessions.

He even went through your closet to inspect your collection. What were you into? Did you have a specific brand you frequented? Did you prefer lace or silk? Or cotton, like the one snug and warm in his pocket?

He found a matching set of lace underwear sat in the back of a drawer, a translucent design with roses and ribbons. He inspected it curiously– were you waiting to use them? Were you planning on wearing this for your ex-boyfriend? His lips curled into a snarl. It was a good thing he had gotten the kid off your radar. He couldn’t afford to let anyone see you in such scandalous lingerie. Only he should have the privilege of doing so. His mind raced with thoughts as he traced a finger along the strap of your bra.

Then your door creaked and you swung it open. He turned his head to see you, standing at the doorway wrapped in a fluffy towel that hugged your chest and hung above your knees. Your wet hair clung to your face, rivulets cascaded down your flushed skin. When your eyes met his, you froze. Wide eyes met his.

Uh oh.

Before you could scream, Leon lurched forward and clamped a hand over your mouth. He shushed you softly, mirroring your wide eyed expression.

“I know it looks bad,” he whispered. The force against your mouth prevented you from speaking. You began trembling as his lips inched closer, “But I don’t mean any harm.”

“Mmhmm?!” You mumbled against his palm. He withdrew and you gasped, stepping back while hugging your damp, shivering frame. “Leon, you can’t be here. This- This level is off limits to customers!”

“But I’m not just a customer,” he spread his arms. He slowly approached, footsteps thudding against the carpet, “And c’mon, you like me, right?”

Your eyes were ready to pop out of your skull. “Like you? I mean- Yes but- but not like- Like…” You squeaked as your back thumped against your door. Your hand reached behind and blindly searched for the doorknob. When you finally caught it, the blonde slammed a hand beside your head.

His face inched forward, a frown contorted on his handsome, hardened features. “Like what?” He breathed. You shivered at his warm breath fanning your cold skin. Hesitation paralysed your tongue, and as you struggled to speak, he clasped your jaw with his hand. His questioning, cold gaze was unlike the usual warmth he carried. And it scared you. You swallowed and choked out.

“...Not like lovers.”

A silence ensued between the two of you. The birds outside your window chirped with fervour, as if you weren’t cornered by your customer whom you had grown to trust over the past couple of months. His thick brows knitted tightly against his forehead as he gripped your jaw harshly. You winced, his bruising touch hurt and your hands clawed at his wrist. His nose wrinkled with displeasure as his eyes darkened. He was disappointed, but he couldn’t deny that he saw it coming. Didn’t sting any less.

“So that’s what you think of me,” he spat. Then he smashed his lips against yours and yanked your towel off your body. Your hands flew to his chest as you desperately pushed, a muffled scream on your lips as you resisted. Leon gripped your wrists and slammed them over your head against the door whilst slotting a knee between your trembling legs.

You tried to shout but he shoved his tongue into your mouth and embraced yours in a passionate tango. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t stop him as he shut you up with fervent kisses that sent shocks down your spine. His knee rubbed against your slit, and he bumped into your clit purposefully, eliciting a whine from your saliva stained lips. He pulled away to look at you– and gods, you were so beautiful. So pliant for him, so–

“Help!”

You screamed at the top of your lungs. But your head snapped to the side, and you stared blankly at his shoes. Your cheek stung, pulsating with a dull throb as you placed a hand over where he had slapped you. Tears welled up in your eyes and you refused to look up at him. You tried to run again, but this time he dragged you over to your bed and pushed you down.

Then he flipped open his phone and showed you his photos. You gaped in shock at the hundreds of blurry yet distinct shower pics in his album. The focal point? You.

He met your concerned gaze with a half-lidded one. He spoke quietly and slowly as he held the device over your face.

“You can run, but all it takes is one push and I’ll have this photo publicised everywhere. You wouldn’t want to ruin your parent’s business… right?”

More tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled with a sob. He hushed you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Lashes fluttered close as your tears slid down your damp cheeks while the water from your undried hair seeped into your sheets. His voice was a broken record as your vision darkened.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright…”

The rest was a blur. All you remembered was foggy vision and searing skin. But Leon remembered it all. You put up quite an impressive fight for a little girl like you. You had landed a blow in his temple and sent him reeling into your bed frame. But you were too weak to run, thanks to all the love bites he left around your inner thighs and legs that left you tingly and numb. You tried to crawl away, but even then it was pointless.

For the most part, you were pretty compliant. Like the good girl you were, you spread your legs prettily when asked and even nursed his cock with your lewd tongue, eyes glazed with tears and self-hate whilst he ate your pussy out. Hell, the rumours were true. Virgins gave the best head. You let him cum down your throat too, like the good girl you were. Your mouth pussy was so tight that he swore he saw angels flapping above him. And the cherry on top was when he finally hilted inside you, becoming one at last.

You laid quietly on his chest as he stroked your hair. It was damp, unlike your body which blazed with an ungodly heat that only hell could compete with. Your heart thumped in your chest, a rhythm unmatched with Leon’s. You couldn’t see his face, and it was probably best this way.

He was your first– a fact you had to come to terms with. You sniffled softly. Even though he forced himself on you, he still made sure to make it not hurt too much. It was too easy to give in to his touches– so you failed to put up a decent struggle. A single tear slid down your flushed cheek. You hated that he was so gentle yet so cruel with you.

For Leon, you would be his last, because he swore he’d never let go of you. He would make you his. Physically first, emotionally second, whatever the order mattered little to him. Because you were now bound to him, your souls intertwined in ways your bodies could never attempt to achieve.

He stared up at the ceiling. There was so much to do, and so much time now that you were his. Today felt good. Great. Pride glowed in his chest and he kissed your damp hair tenderly. You were finally his. Finally his to take and to train.

…

“L-Leon!” you squealed, clawing at the sink that he had bent you over. Jeans and panties pooled at your ankles, sitting on your dirty sneakers. Your lips were bleeding because you bit them to stop your screams.

You always had the wildest reactions to whatever he did. Was it because you were a nervous wreck? It’s been barely a month since he started breaking you in. Quite a bit of time to get accustomed to his antics. Looks like you needed more practice, he mentally noted.

“Shut up,” he hissed, rising to his full length to tower over you. His chest pressed against your back, and you whined at the heat pressed between your butt. “Be quiet or they’re gonna find us.”

You held his gaze in the bathroom mirror, and he placed his hands over yours as you still gripped the sink. Your hair had come undone, a mess that framed your flushed face as you panted softly. Goodness, you looked like a wreck. No thanks to the smug bastard behind you.

The blonde took pride in his work and belted out a laugh. A smack on your ass reeled you over the sink again, and you glared at him. Your eyes screamed: aren’t you a hypocrite? But he answered with a boyish grin that gave you butterflies. The damned smile of the devil himself.

His zipper travelled south and he popped himself out of his pants. He stroked it mindlessly before spinning you around so that you faced him. You stared at him incredulously and he gestured with a nod of his chin.

Leon needed no words, you knew what he wanted. Your bare knees hit the sticky bathroom tiles as you knelt, on tiles where its corners were cracked and filled with dirt that religiously lined its crevices. You took his semi-hard on in your little hand, and it twitched to stand at full length. It curved towards his toned abdomen, jumping in your loose hold. The head was flushed, beads of precum dotted the circumference of the tip.

You looked up at him and licked tentatively. He inhaled through his teeth as you gave him puppy licks, teasing the tip with the curve of your tongue while languidly stroking his cock. His hands carded through your hair, pushing back your stray hairs so that he could see you better. So pretty and willing for him, he grinned, and so eager to please.

A broken moan fell from his lips as you suckled on the tip like a baby on a pacifier. He tugged your hair backwards, and you frowned at him but took him in your mouth fully. You swallowed around his length, and it jumped in your throat as he clamped a hand on your head. He held you steady as he thrust his hips, fucking your throat deep and slow like he liked. He was never the kind of guy to rush a process in sex. Not when your mouth pussy was the perfect toy in the world. All for him to monopolise and use.

He chewed on his bottom lip and groaned. “So good. ‘S perfect for me, shit- Good girl. Taking my cock with your mouth so well- fuck…” He babbled mindlessly, drowning in his pleasure as you clutched the back of his ankles. You gripped onto the scratchy fabric with your fingernails and moaned around his length. Suddenly, somebody knocked.

“Hey. Are you there, (y/n)?” Your father called out. You stared up at Leon in terror, but he was too preoccupied with your throat hugging his dick to even care. You gagged when he jabbed his dick against your gummy walls.

You glared at him with teary eyes, and he gestured at your nose- no doubt reminding you to breathe with it. Gently slapping his legs, you tried to free yourself with a warning look. Leon rolled his eyes and called out, “You’ve got the wrong person. It’s just me.”

“Oh-” your dad recognised him, and he hesitated before saying, this time louder. “(y/n)’s missing, I can’t find her anywhere.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s upstairs,” He grinned as he thrust into your mouth. You gagged again, and he chuckled softly as he stroked the top of your head. “Perhaps she’s taking a shower.”

As if something clicked in you, your eyes widened in fear and you tried to pull away frantically. Not that he’d let you, as he held your head in place from the back, fingers tangled with your hair as he dug his blunt nails into your scalp. A warning to remind you of your place. You complied with a weakened grasp on his pants as you lowered your eyes.

Your father muttered incoherently before stomping away. When a minute passed, Leon finally pulled out and you gasped exaggeratedly, a hand rubbing your sore throat.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes,” you whisper shouted through coughs. The fight in your eyes had returned as you leaned against the wall, pants still pooled around your ankles. The man you mistook for a kind person was truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along, a ravenous beast that ravaged you whenever he fancied. You knew that now. If only you had known sooner, then you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess.

“You know you like it,” he said in a sing song voice. You crinkled your forehead as he lowered the toilet seat cover and sat on top of it.

He spread his legs and leaned back. His dick twitched against his stomach. Its length shined with your saliva and blood from your busted lips. Your chest tightened as he coaxed you with the wave of his hand.

“C’mon, finish what you started.”

…

Your parents were on to the two of you faster than he’d expected. There was one time when he almost found Leon and you in the restaurant’s kitchen. If it weren’t for the locked door, he was sure your dad (if he could muster the strength) would chop his balls off and frame them above his bed like a banner. That was how much he had grown to detest the regular, evident in the way he would wordlessly slam his dishes down on his table. Maybe he knew what had transpired in the toilet that day. How he fucked your ass and brains out in the toilet til you were a whimpering, unthinking mess. The store had to close for the day because of the lack of help on the sales floor.

Your dad even refused the fat tips for his wonderful service. Oh, whatever shall Leon do?

Your mother was also a bit of a tough crowd. Eyes sharp with distrust, always keeping her daughter by her side in the kitchen. Her death grip on the butcher knife would’ve been frightening if it weren’t for her trembling knees when he gazed her way. Maybe she also knew of that one time he made you squirt in your parent's room, coating their bedroom mirror with your shared fluids as he pressed you against it. Quite the overprotective parents they were.

And for the other regulars, they continued fantasising about their lovely waitress. Not knowing that she was taken by a traitor among them, a guy that kept to himself in the corners, lighter in hand as he lured your attention as always. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you always found yourself in his arms time and time again.

Your parents were in their room next door as you sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist. Two bodies clung desperately together, wrapped in a sweaty embrace as he cupped your plush ass cheeks in his hands, hoisting you up and then dropping you so you’d slam down on his length. His eyes, muddied with desire, were locked with yours as your tongues fought for dominance in each other's mouths. A pile of underwear, his and yours– the lacey one with roses and ribbons (from ages ago)– were tangled on the carpet indiscreetly.

Your hands wandered up and down his scarred back. The tip of his cock jabbed against your cervix, and you whimpered against his lips. Fingernails dug into the scar on his shoulder, an indented wound that caused him to exhale through gritted teeth.

“Leon-” you pulled away and rested your forehead against his. Your nose bumped into his as he bounced you, “-I love you. I love- mhn… love you so much…”

The blonde could barely hear your muffled words over the incessant creaking of your bed. But he nuzzled your nose, a smile playing on his flushed face.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. “Love you so much, baby.”

He slowed down his ministries and embraced your lips with delicate kisses. With his twitching cock buried in the depths of your sticky, pulsing cunt, you moaned his name and angled your head for more. Your arms wrapped around his neck in a loose embrace as you stayed like this, sloppily kissing while basking in the moonlight that seeped from your curtains.

You grinded your softness against his body, chest mushed on his sweaty pectorals. A mewl fell from your swollen lips as you gazed at him longingly. “More, need more.”

“Fuck,” he inhaled shakily. He swiped his thumb under the crease of your eye. “You’re such a needy thing. Drunk on my cock this quick already, hm?”

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, “‘Cause it’s you.”

The man laughed quietly– he swore there were butterflies in his stomach. They fluttered around in his depths as if he wasn’t currently balls deep in you. God, he was so whipped for you. He was such a lucky man– he didn’t deserve your smile.

He carefully flipped you over and placed you on your knees. You rested your head on the sheets, leaned forward to tilt your butt towards him. It rested on your crack, and a giggle bubbled from you when you wriggled against his cock. A playful smack on one cheek echoed in your room. You would shoot him death glares whenever he did that. But today you moaned into the sheets and smooshed your ass against his torso for more.

Fuck, he grimaced. How did you get this lewd? Oh it was thanks to him. With his ego mightily stoked, he chuckled and soothed the hand mark with another.

Leon gripped your waist with one hand, another spreading your cheeks to get a better view as he slid himself into your wetness. You were always a tight fuck, gripping hard enough to snap him in half, but today’s descent into you had him arching his own back in bliss. It was like you were trying to milk his balls worth, like you wanted a bun in the oven tonight.

You gritted your sheets in your teeth, strings of drool snaking down your chin as your body rocked up and down the bed. Muffled moans rose in pitch as he speared your insides, his hipbone smashing into your jiggling ass with the relentless snapping of his hips. Dishevelled threads of blonde hair hung over his tightly lidded eyes, bouncing as he chased his high.

“Fuck fuck fuck. I love you. You’re mine-” he rambled as he slammed into your womb punishingly. “-Gonna breed you with my kids. You want that? Fuck, say you want it!”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you babbled his name brokenly. Garbled ‘yes’s fell from your quivering lips, and he snaked a hand under you to slap your clit with his calloused, scarred palm. You gasped and he shoved your head into the mattress when you cried his name in pleasure. A few more slaps and you were trembling like a leaf, your upper body totally collapsed onto the bed like a used doll. Your walls gripped him tightly, ripping out a deep moan from Leon. Then he pressed his hips flushed to your quivering butt and emptied his seed into you.

The warmth in your belly was comforting, the heat spread to the rest of your body as you hummed softly in approval. You collapsed entirely on the bed, and his dick slipped out with a soft sound. Stained with rings of cream, it hung limply between his toned thighs, and you weakly crawled over to run your tongue along one of its veins.

Leon’s cock twitched on your tongue. Amused, he took his phone and snapped a picture of you. He held the screen beside your face, gazing at the matching blissed out expressions you carried in both. He pushed your hair behind your ear as you nuzzled against his leg. Your eyes began fluttering shut, and he gently adjusted your limp body so that you laid down beside him. He pulled your blanket over the two of you and held you flushed to his chest. Your breathing slowed to a steady pace, and he pecked your forehead with his lips.

You deserved a bigger tip the next time he visited. For your generous customer service. He made a mental note and closed his eyes, too tired to care about the rattling of your doorknob across the room.

all content written by @puppyina ! do not repost, edit or plagiarise. requests are open for any past written characters.

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ddarker-dreams · 10 months

Note

do you have any hcs of what the yan genshin boys would b like when darlings on her period?

i'm gonna rank them from best to worst when it comes to dealing with this . let's see how they do.

best

zhongli is on top of his game. it's like he was born for the sole purpose of pampering you when you're under the weather. he'll insist on you taking it easy, drinking soothing teas, eating nutritious meals, and taking medication for whichever symptoms are the most prominent. if he seems oddly content, it's because he is. he won't state it outright, but he wants to leave the impression that him being in the position to care for you like this is worth the sacrifice of some... freedom. he knows of herbs and remedies to help make the experience as painless as possible.

kazuha already dotes on you as if you were royalty. while he leads a rather transient lifestyle, he puts your travels on pause to ensure you're properly cared for. he's sweet to a degree that'd be condescending from anyone else, but because it's kazuha and it's completely genuine, you can't call him out on it. he'll lay your head down on his lap and softly recite poetry until you doze off. he might not know much about periods specifically, but he treats it as if you were injured and need to be nursed back to health. he makes you your favorite meals from ingredients foraged locally. considers it a privilege on his part to be able to care for you. warmth blossoms in his chest whenever you have no choice but to ask him for something, your pride temporarily discarded.

albedo knows when your period is about to start before it even crosses your mind. he calculates every phase of your cycle and writes the important dates down in a calendar. he's all about preemptive care, he'll give you some concoctions of his own making the night before your period is due to start so you don't even have to worry about cramp pain. if you've been particularly troublesome lately, he might withhold this miracle elixir until you butter him up. he doesn't come outright and tell you this either, you have to do some trial and error to discern the specifics. as an alchemist, anything to do with the functions necessary to create life greatly fascinate him.

childe has sisters, so he's roughly familiar with how unpleasant periods are. he'll grin and reassure you that a little blood has never frightened him. thinks you're the cutest thing ever when you have to rely on him more. he's happy to oblige and is surprisingly intuitive about requests you never state verbally. he makes the tastiest soups, the kind that warm you from head to toe with every bite. there's no use trying to pretend you don't like it because he knows. he calms down on his tendency to tease you, since in his view, it's never his intent to actively make you feel distraught (unless you've acted out in a way that puts you in danger).

cyno means well (probably) but can come off as a little overbearing. he's literally breathing down your neck and constantly reminding you that if you need anything, just say the word. he's carrying you around, bringing you meals in bed, running all over town to get that one snack he knows you love; he's nothing if not dedicated. the thought of you being uncomfortable, much less in pain, is unbearable. when you do fall asleep, he's peeking into the room every five or ten minutes. every time you get your period, should any blood get on the sheets, he'll look you dead in the eye and ask if you've gotten in a fight lately. when you don't laugh, he starts explaining the joke, so it's better to force a chuckle.

diluc is just awkward about it. he refers to it as 'your time of the month' but even choking those words out is a struggle. he considers it to be a very private occurrence and thinks it'd be polite to tiptoe around the subject, as if it were taboo. the staff at dawn winery make further accommodations for you — everything you could ever want is a ring away. he's normally skeptical about you going outside, but since you're under the weather, he'll grant your request. if you're observant, you'll notice he's more inclined to give into your whims during this time. just don't get too carried away or he'll say he knows what you're doing at pointblank.

scaramouche is mostly annoyed that you're going to be more cranky for a while. your attention is essentially his lifeblood, but when you don't feel well, you're focusing on that instead of him. kind of inconsiderate tbh. once asked dottore if there's a way to prevent this, but dropped the idea when the harbinger said 'it only requires a few organs to be removed.' scaramouche would prefer your organs remain as is. he'll sigh and huff about how lucky you are to have him while spoon-feeding you, despite the fact he secretly enjoys it. his words are a whopping 10% nicer until you start to feel better, something he is frequently reminding you of. when your period is finished, he keeps staring in your general direction, fully expecting you to trip over yourself to thank him for his benevolence. if being delusional is a game, then he's winning.

when it comes to xiao, he's not awful per se, but this is likely his first encounter with menstruation, so you have to explain everything about it. he gets a bit freaked out the first time you wake up to bloody sheets, although you wouldn't be able to tell unless you closely observe his body language. he's somewhat at a loss when you explain what you need during your period and probably doesn't grab all the right things. he makes you eat these awfully bitter herbs that are supposed to help with pain. also makes some watery tea but gives you such a hopeful look, you don't have the heart to complain about the taste.

worst

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doki-doki-imagines · 2 months

Note

PLS PLS CAN YOU DO THAT CHAT THING WITH KAISER, NESS, SAE AND NAGI WHERE READER TEXTS THEM SAYING “your face is so pretty I just wanna sit on it” AND THEIR REACTIONS😍😍

author note: Idk how to use fake sms app so I went for an ol' classic gif reaction.

Michael Kaiser:

-What is he looking at? At his reflex on the mirror obviously. -A laughter starts to blossom from his chest, already pushed out like a proud rooster. -He slicks his hair back, blue eyes shining with joy. Michael licks his teeth, perfect as he is. Damn, anybody would like to sit on his face; he is so fucking handsome. -He picks his phone up ready to message you something along the lines of "C'mere. I'll give you the ride of your life." Michael smirks, proud of coming up with such a hot line(it isn't). -But the message you sent got deleted. -His eyes bulge out almost cartoon style. Did he dream about it? Was the message from someone else? Michael checks the other chats, but nobody messaged him. -He doesn't want to message you about that, he isn't desperate! But a voice in the back of Michael's mind screams at him. -"?" He sends back. "Did you need something?" "No, Michael. Thanks for worrying." You reply immediately. -His heart picks a worryingly fast beat. You replied way too fast. A lightbulb turn on in his head, but the idea he comes up with is pretty risky. Michael feels blood running to his ears when he finally presses send. -"If you are free wanna come over? I need help choosing the new bed covers."

Alexis Ness:

-He is mind-numbing happy. After all, it is a pretty nice compliment to read from his crush. -If Alexis had a tail it would be wagging left and right now. A dumb smile is plastered on his face while he keeps looking at his phone. -"What are you looking at, Ness?" It's Michael's voice calling him back to work, mildly annoyed that the other boy's attention wasn't fully on him. "Oh- It's nothing, Kaiser! Let's go back to training." Alexis hides his cell phone under the last layer of his gym bag. Michael doesn't dig further for once. -When Alexis opens his phone back the sun already left his place for the moon. He obviously forgot about your message 'till he reads the new ones. "Have I crossed any boundary, Alexis? I'm sorry if it happened." "Please I don't want our friendship to be ruined by this." His heart sunk to his ass and climbed back into his throat in a matter of seconds. -Alexis calls you, clearly worried. You pick up fast for Alexis' heart health. "I'm so sorry I didn't reply sooner! I had practice and I had to go then-" he keeps blabbering "I'll do anything for your forgiveness." "…Anything Alexis?" "Yes." "I wasn't joking when I sent you that message…my or your place?" "Yours. It will be my pleasure." He says, voice finally calm. -He wasn't joking.

Sae Itoshi:

-"I must have forgotten the part where I asked your opinion." -HE IS RUDE. -Sae knows it is a joke. A stupid one to try to tease him. He may not be the brightest mind, but he understands what you are trying to do. -He goes back to training like nothing happened. Then he showers and all of sudden Sae has the urge to add another line to the previous message he sent. -Meanwhile, you replied with a ton of sad emojis and other dumb blabbering Sae's mind doesn't even register. -"Anyway I prefer to eat it from the back." Sae smiles thinking he has just sent the king of the comebacks, an earth-shattering line. Soon he gets a reply, that makes his smile drop. "I must have forgotten the part where I asked about your opinion." -Maybe you are really made for each other.

Seishiro Nagi:

-What a nice message to receive. Not. -You are hundreds of kilometres of distance what is supposed to happen? Honestly thinking is tiring him out. -Seishiri sends you the thumb-up emoji and throws his phone somewhere on his bed, pc already turned on to play the newest game. -But now a worm dug a hole in his head, making Seishiro thinks about the message and not at his ranking flopping; such a noob behavior. -He thinks about your soft thighs pressing his ears, your warmth enveloping his face… -Seishiro facepalms, fingers messaging his temples before brushing away some of his snow white hair strands away from his forehead. -He doesn't even notice he already dialed your number. -"Talk dirty." "What? Muddy pants? Sweaty shirts?" "Don't play dumb. It's all your fault if I can't concentrate now. And don't let me explain, it's bothersome." You chuckle at the other end. He can feel the mirth in your voice. "Sorry angel. You'll have to work if you want the prize." -He groans in annoyance, head thrown back. -It seems like Seishiro will have to break his "5 days doing nothing useful" streak.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk headcanons #blue lock headcanons #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #alexis ness #alexis ness x reader #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader

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ghostreblogging · 1 year

Text

Omg like I had this dream about it yesterday. So what if batfam decided nope we're gonna ghost proof this house. And in the way they did it, they didn't use blood blossoms, ectoranium etc (blood blossoms are extinct and hard to find in large quantities and ectoranium is a space metal that nobody knows exist yet or confused with kryptonite) They used magic, so it's little less noticable.

And Tim decides to Invite his new friend over, aka Danny Fenton . Said friend refuses to touch anything while there. He wouldn't sit, eat food, or touch any of the occupants. And when he finally accidentally touches something, the spell works and he is captured with glowing chains or straight up thrown back into the infinite realms.

Danny finally has time for normal teenager shit. He managed slowly go through the bureaucratic shithole that is the infinite realms politics and he managed to come out with his sanity intact. Phantom is no longer a menace but a hero that tragically gave himself up to seal all of the Infinite realms (that is kinda true he did go through a nightmare to make sure ghosts didn't attack the living world and had to do the equivalent of centuries worth of paperwork to do that.)

And all things considered ghosts are a thing of the past for most people. ( He hopes that the ones he allows through keep their oaths and stay hidden)

And he can finally be a normal teenager again, albeit in Gotham of all places. But the death in the city masks his more inhuman traits and he really didn't wanna go through another paper work stuff to register himself as a meta without the meta gene, he would have to do that later though.

But he can do that later, he's on a vacation and he's not doing that.

-_-_-_-

He is standing in the doorway. People around him are getting their umbrellas and sadly he doesn't have one. He was debating internally if he should just go or go back to the lost and found for an umbrella.

He was waiting for Tim as he agreed to come for dinner. The car ride to the Wayne manor was calm, filled with few words.

All changed when he came to find the whole manor was covered in intricate magical circles and traps. He saw atleast few that straight up sent him to the dark parts of the realms and he didn't want to touch that. And as much as he wanted to straight up escape, Tim had been asking for multiple days.

So as much as he wanted to flee, his social skills are shit and he didn't want to risk the awkwardness afterwards.

So he tried his best. Didn't touch the ground floated slightly above it, didn't touch the furnitures cuz apparently it was considered part of the house, couldn't touch the walls. Couldn't even touch the residents before setting the alarms off.

He thinks he pulled it off. Of course he pulled it off everything was going smoothly and he just has to make sure he has everyone in the room in his sights and float a bit. Well until the actual dinner. He couldn't touch the food and he looked quite akward so much so Tim whispers to him.

"You okay? You aren't touching your food."

"Oh I'm okay, it's just-" before he could even start with his sorrowful excuses, someone someone grabs his arm, again it wouldn't have been a problem too it would only raise the alarm, until he is pushed down into the chair thus triggering multiple traps .

Big golden chains appear and he is arleady out of the chair by then. He opens a window and turns to say sorry but he accidentally trips over another trap and is pulled into the realms. He should probably cross Tim out of his list of friends.

-_-_-_-

Tim's friend just fell through a portal, should probably call Constantine about that.

Dick was the first one to speak up after the silence that incued.

"Did we just banish Tim's new friend to the shadow realm?"

"Wait why did he trigger the alarm? He didn't seem all that ghostly, was he like Jason"

"Probably. We probably won't see him again, do we just. . . Push the blame onto Constantine?"

" We are heroes-"

"And how the heck are we supposed to enter the realms anyway? And escape! Constantine greatly expressed that portal was one way only"

*Tommorow*

They see Danny just waltzing through Gotham and they pull him aside.

"What the fuck. You got pulled into the shadow realm yesterday! How do you even trigger the alarms"

Danny who arleady went through the five stages of denial and how tf am I gonna explain "oh you see i am a warlock of....uhhhh

I didn't think this far

OH PHANTOM. THE GREAT PHANTOM"

And after a very stressful meeting with batman and the entire JL dark members cuz apparently his alter ego became a big deal without his agreement.

Where he

Had to speed learn how to create duplicates

Had to fight off a few ghost lawyers cuz they wanted to be a part of "the very important meeting of importance"

Got asked to do magic (he's still learning okay?)

He panicked tried to sell one of his powers as a spell or him just having the copy of his patrons power.

More people got worried about him supposedly creating a contract with a very powerful new unknown diety

Got into the JL dark as a warlock

People apparently trusts him now???? As FENTON??????

Apperantly showing off weaker version of patrons power was a bad idea cuz he greatly overestimated the power limit.

He is a powerful warlock of a powerful "demon"?

WHAT THE FUCK DO U MEAN I- MY PATRON IS NOT A DEMON

"so what is he"

Uhhhhhh a guardian spirit?

Uunhuun soo it's phantom right.?? Leme do some research

WHAT DO U MEAN PHANTOM IS APPARENTLY A GOD AND IS KNOWN GLOBALY FOR BEING THE GOD OF HEROES??

Wait . . . . Clockwork. Oh my god.

Now he is the number one call up magic person for the bats now.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #danny phantom au #is this done yet?#danny phantom crossover #batman #dc x dp

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gutouhua · 11 months

Text

pairing. zhongli x f. reader

wc. 2.7k+

rating. explicit

tags. sort of canonverse, zhongli has ruts & dragon fangs, reader hails from mondstat, mentions of mates/mating, mentions of eating animal meat, zhongli is a perv for reader, zhongli calls reader ‘pet,’ age gap (reader is early-mid 20s, zhongli is biologically in early 30s), mentions of zhongli’s previous sexual relationships (dubcon), power dynamics, cervixfucking, overstimulation (sort of), zhongli wants to breed reader, pussydrunk zhongli, unprotected sex (pull out method)

a/n. MDNI! see end for notes

Zhongli had imagined it over a million times—taking you across the table and fucking your pussy. He knew you’d smell good down there, had scented it like a pervert in the days before your period—familiar lily mixed with strong musk and a tinge of metal. It made his fangs itch from the need to sink into your soft thighs and tongue at your slick folds.

Zhongli rutted in early spring, when trees blossomed and bore fat fruit—juicy peaches hanging heavy on thin branches. Sometimes he’d walk by them and look at them with an almost forlorn gaze. A deep ache in his body.

He wished that there was someone who would satiate his needs like seeds did to trees or bees with flowers. They mated with each other, year after year in a frenzy—a haze of powdery yellow spilling on every surface of Liyue Harbor. Zhongli didn’t have allergies, but even if he did, he would still love and envy the pollen.

It had been a long time since Zhongli had someone like that to spend his seasons with. A mate.

He’d drink copious amounts of lily bulb tea each spring to keep himself from fucking the first person who said yes to him, and would take himself into his hands with a furious passion every morning and night—even during work breaks—to relieve himself.

And it worked. He successfully passed multiple centuries of ruts like so, although it wasn’t always easy. As Morax, he was volatile—could pass for the Pyro Archon herself, Murata, but he tempered himself over the years, learning to be the composed man he was now.

But then you appeared, and the fire flared. Hutao’s newest intern—the first in nearly a decade, fresh. A slight little creature (although most people were small compared to Zhongli), and eager to learn about funeral services from Liyue’s very best. It was the first time you’d been to Liyue, so far from your home in Mondstat, and everything and everyone interested you.

I wonder if there’s a way to breed two creatures together to create an actual cocogoat. It’d be cool—Qiqi would be able to drink actual cocogoat milk, not that cheap substitute that Baizhu makes for her, and we’d be able to eat the meat. It’d taste good, right?

Zhongli chuckled, eyes soft on you. That would be a sight to behold. He didn’t mention that he’d been alive when cocogoats still roamed the Bishui Plains—a story for another time.

And then came the questions about himself.

Why are you so red, Zhongli-xiangsheng?

His rut came early this year for some reason, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. The lily bulb tea would suffice until he had a moment for himself.

But you had to make it difficult. So difficult for him.

Nothing, he murmured.

You grinned, stepping closer on tiptoes so your eyes leveled his chest. Soft rise and fall—imperceptible unless face to face like you were.

It doesn’t seem like nothing to me, Xiangsheng.

Zhongli fought the urge to inhale your soft scent. Sweet, powdery like lilies and dusk and something tender he wanted to bite—

—And he tasted blood in his mouth to stop his fangs from descending onto your exposed neck, nearly shook from the force it took to not bend you over his desk.

It would leave a mess. And Hutao would add it to his tab.

Even now you tempted him with coy glances, a bare shoulder, and sometimes a lingering touch in the space between his cuff and gloves—sharp like the sting of the formidable Raiden’s electro bolts.

“Do you want to know what I learned today, Xiansheng?” You had taken to calling him that instead of his mortal name one day. Zhongli wasn’t quite sure why, but he liked how it sounded on your lips.

He smoothed an invisible wrinkle from his suit and shuffled the papers on his desk while shifting to hide the stiffness in his pants. “Pray, do tell.”

You leaned forward, settling your weight on the heavy oak table. “I heard you’re rutting right now.”

Zhongli nearly choked on his tea. “What?”

“Rut, heat, season—Hutao told me.” You shrugged as if the topic was something mundane. “She said you rut every spring, but that it’s unusually strong this year for some reason. Something about the aura around you, I think. Why’s that?”

Because of you.

“Not sure,” Zhongli said.

“She also told me about that tea you drink.”

He nearly dropped his cup of tea. Damn the woman. Spilling all my secrets. And there wasn’t a single thing he could do—he was on her payroll.

“What about it?” he asked, trying for confidence.

“Lily bulb tea,” you continued, scrutinizing his cup, “apparently it helps calm you down and dampens the urge to fuck.”

Zhongli’s dick hardened.

“So does it?”

“What?”

“The tea. Does it help with your urges?” You jerked your head at the drink, curious.

Not when you’re around.

He wasn’t sure what to say, but finally decided on: “Not really.”

You cocked your head to the side and bit your lips, Zhongli’s eyes following the pink tongue that peeked through. He wanted to bite them too. They’d be soft and break easily with a little bit of teeth—like almond tofu.

“Oh. Then what’re you going to do about it?”

“The usual.” Tea, masturbating, some rough fucking. Archons knew he’d need it tonight—some sort of distraction from you. He’d have to visit Madame Fang for an escort. She was used to his proclivities—would have someone able to take him.

“The usual? And what would that be?” Zhongli could almost picture you with a pen and paper in hand, a student eager for information.

He groaned internally. Now he was imagining you in a short skirt, stockings, maybe thigh highs—the fat of your thighs spilling from the top of the elastic. The image nearly had him spilling in his pants.

“I don’t think you’d want to know the particulars,” he said, his voice a soft rasp. He shifted again. “It might scare an innocent little girl like you.”

“Innocent?” You huffed. “Little? I’m a grown adult xiangsheng! I’m over the legal age—and actually much more than that. You can hardly call me little or innocent.”

“But you are,” he said indulgently, as one would towards a spoiled pet. “I am immortal, have fought and survived the Archon War. Tell me, pet, can you say the same?”

He was playing with you. Of course the two of you knew you couldn’t compare to him.

“But at the very least, you cannot consider me innocent. I’ve experienced enough things,” you muttered, annoyed.

Zhongli arched an eyebrow.

Before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist, pushing you onto the desk in one fluid motion—papers scattering to the floor like spring pollen. Zhongli pinned your hands over your head to keep you in place, and knocked your legs apart to slot his large frame between you.

“W-What’re you doing, Zhongli?”

He smiled. And there it was: his name always slipped out when you got serious.

Xiansheng.

What?

Xiansheng. He moved closer, spreading your legs further apart as he drew closer to you. You could feel your stomach pressing tightly against the cotton of your suit with each breath, your chest straining against buttons. Don’t be so impolite when your boss is trying to school you.

Xiansheng.

Good girl, he rumbled. You were so curious about the specifics of my rut—what I do to satiate my needs. Shall I show you? They say firsthand experience is the best way to learn.

His voice was heavy, hot against your ear, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when he darted a tongue out to lick the delicate shell of your ear.

So sensitive. I wonder if it’s the same in other places. Shall we find out?

Hutao had ordered him to be careful with you—a family friend. Your family owned the most successful funeral parlor in Mondstat, and they sent you to Hutao to learn how she conducted her business in Liyue. Zhongli had agreed. He could keep his hands to himself.

But then you showed up on the steps of Wansheng funeral parlor, and he knew he was fucked.

Do you want it, he whispered, I need to rut, but I always ask for permission.

Jealousy reared its ugly head. He’d done it with others—for decades, maybe even centuries, and it made sense, you couldn’t expect celibacy from him and yet…the thought of other people touching him made you want to rake your hands down his back, gouge, and suck every inch of his skin so others would know he was taken.

That he was yours.

What will it be, pet?

You nodded, eyeing the bulge in his pants. He was big. It was obvious, and it’d probably hurt. A tight fit.

Zhongli smiled—sharp teeth, predatory. I need words.

Yes.

No sooner did you give your permission did he slip your blazer off your shoulders and loosen just enough buttons to push your blouse up and over your head. You wore cotton—a simple white bra, and he wondered if you wore a matching set today.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out: you were already unzipping your pants, sliding stiff fabric down your legs, uncaring if it wrinkled. You’d have to remember to take it to the cleaners.

But later—now, you canted your hips forward, not caring about anything but the man in front of you.

So needy, he murmured, and wet.

His scent intoxicated you, his weight a delicious pressure against your skin.

Zhongli rocked against your clothed pussy, pleased to find you wet. You soaked through the cotton fabric, leaving an imprint in the shape of your pussy on your panties.

Fuck me, xiangsheng, please—I need it.

The scent of your arousal grew stronger with each tap against the wet spot. Heady, mind-numbing, as if a drug was coursing through his bloodstream. The amber of his hands grew darker, a deep, gorgeous fossilized hue, and his pupils thinned—they slitted into a sharp, almost feline countenance, predator to prey.

You would have me? he asked again, stars pulsing in his eyes. In his earlier days, before he was an archon, he had taken people without knowing what it really meant. The shame and guilt of it had made the act feel dirty for a long time—he went nearly fifty years without a single partner to help him through his ruts.

He would not make the same mistake with you.

Just fuck me.

He groaned, pulled your panties to the side—white cotton—and pushed himself into you, the entire length. It was tight and it burned as you struggled, walls stretching to accommodate his dick.

Feels so good, he grunted, you’re so tight, fuck. He lost himself in your tight heat, centuries of manners and poise melting before you.

He moved slowly at first, dragging his length out so that nothing but the tip remained inside before thrusting back in.

You shifted backward, trying to adjust to him. Soft pants, shallow—eyes squeezed shut to focus on each heavy stroke in and out of your cunt. When you started moving against him, seeking friction for yourself, Zhongli sped up. Kept most of his cock inside you with each stroke, prodding around for your sweet spot.

When he finally found it, earning a cry and squeeze around his cock that nearly made him cum, he smiled. Right there, pet?

You gasped, struggled to answer: Yeah, yeah-right there—

He continued to thrust, imprinting your insides with the shape of his dick, hitting that sensitive spot with almost boyish eagerness, but it still wasn’t enough to—

—You reached down to where his dick is splitting you apart and try to rub your clit, the hard nub aching for attention, but Zhongli pushed your hand away.

Allow me.

You almost whine—denial twisting your stomach into a tight knot, leaving your clit wanting, but he didn’t make you wait long. Deft fingers rubbed circles on your clit, grinding, until it swelled enough for him to pinch, hard.

Zhongli, please—

What did I say pet, he hummed and bit your earlobe in admonishment.

Xian-Xiansheng—

You were begging now, pleading—tears dripping from your face like fresh paint on canvas.

Please, xiansheng, please, I need it.

What do you need? He thrust forward, the head almost kissing your cervix.

Need…

Need what? Use your words, pretty pet. Another hard thrust, this time he touched your cervix. Half pain, half pleasure. Lines slowly starting to blur—was it because of his dick or your tears? You couldn’t tell.

You shook your head and fisted your hands in the collar of his suit, wrinkling the fine material as you dragged his face towards you to claim a kiss. Harsh and unyielding, a faint taste of iron between each ragged breath. Now you’d have to take two suits to the cleaners.

Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you’d forgotten how you even got into this situation in the first place. Something about lily bulb tea, alone time…and ruts…heats. Heat—were you the one in heat or was it him?

But it didn’t matter, all you knew was that:

Need to cum.

Zhongli’s pretty lips curled. And so you shall.

With one hand on your hips, he slammed his hips against yours in a punishing rhythm while his other hand battered your clit, thick fingers flicking the hard nub repeatedly until you felt nearly numb from the overstimulation. He felt you tense beneath him, hips rolling incessantly, your cunt gripping him so tightly he knew he was close.

Cum for me, he demanded, almost growling, give it to me.

And you obeyed—gave yourself over to the pleasure, moaning from the waves of pleasure washing over you.

Zhongli groaned as you contracted around him, each tight draw from your pussy taking him closer to his own release. Hips stuttering, he felt his fangs slip through, throbbing from the desire to taste you, bite you, mark you—

—Breed you.

It was messy, each time he pulled back and saw the amount of slick that coated his cock, his mind grew fuzzier, almost stupid. Zhongli couldn’t remember the last time he felt pussydrunk—

You bit the side of his neck as another orgasm ripped out of you, and this time Zhongli let himself go with a harsh growl, pulling out right as he cummed, thick ropes of sticky cum defiling your stomach. It was dizzyingly maddening: his cum moving with each shaky exhale, dripping onto your pussy, and Zhongli thought it was such a waste that it wasn’t inside you, filling you up. Some of it covered your clit—a glistening pearl. He fought every fiber of his being to not bend down and lick it. He didn’t like sweet things, but you were an exception.

“Did you learn a lot?” he finally asked after your breath had steadied a bit.

You were still coming down from your high, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “What?”

“I was teaching you,” he chuckled, voice husky. “Were you a good student? Paying attention?”

You thought about it for a moment. Looked at his disheveled appearance, his golden eyes, the wrinkles in his suit, and found it lacking.

“Not enough.”

“I am in agreement.”

Hutao narrowed her eyes. “You fucked him.”

“And what if I did? It’s not like you’ll fire me,” you replied lightly.

Hutao groaned. “I knew you wanted to fuck him, but I didn’t think you wanted to do it that badly. It’s not exactly good for my business, and you know he’ll stick to you for the rest of his season, right? That’s how it works for him. He doesn’t share.”

“Well good. Because I don’t either.” You wouldn’t have chosen him anyway if he liked to share. “But wait—what do you mean ‘not exactly good for your business?’”

The Wangsheng Director grinned at you. “Look at him: one of the most eligible bachelors in Liyue. Didn’t you notice that we have a large number of young clients? They come to Wangsheng because of him. I don’t care who Zhongli fucks as long as they give me their money—it keeps my beloved Wangsheng as the most profitable funeral parlor in Liyue.”

“Of course you would say that.” You laughed and thought about all the times your parents praised Hutao. “No wonder my parents sent me here to learn from you.”

Hutao winked. “Of course! Making money is the second best thing I’m good at.”

“What’s the first?”

“Death.”

uhhh i wrote this one about six-ish months ago too...been busy with zine work but hopefully when I'm done I can write more reader insert smut :') (also sorta tried a new style of dialogue lmao back when I wrote this)

Murata, also known as the God of War and the Lady of Fire, was a Pyro Archon and a member of The Seven who presided over Natlan.

先生 - xiānsheng. Has two main definitions: the first is teacher, the second is mister (Mr); gentleman; sir. Both suit Zhongli very well in this fic ;)

Dried lily bulb【百合】 is usually recommended in TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) clinics to treat coughs, dry throats and relieve heat. (But IRL, this doesn’t actually help with the horny feels LOL.)

Zhongli as Morax has darker brown/amber skin tone on arms, so I chose to depict this in the fic as skin darkening when aroused. I also put a photo of something similar on an actual body.

#Zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x you #zhongli fanfic #zhongli gi #genshin smut #Genshin x reader #zhongli genshin impact #hua!writes #zhongli x female reader #zhongli x f reader

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maniacwatchestheworld · 3 months

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Making up things about Danny Phantom herb lore for fun #1: Blood Blossoms

The specifics as to why Blood Blossoms have such strong ghost-repelling qualities are still unknown. The Blood Blossom flower has a strong and pleasant smell and is edible by humans, having a light, flowery, and sweet flavor to them. Traditionally, it was often used as a famine food, and it was not uncommon for the flowers to be put on bread as they were- cut straight from the stem- and consumed with a bit of butter. As summer turns to autumn, unharvested blood blossoms turn into a fruit known more colloquially as 'Blood Berries.' Blood berries are also edible by humans, maintaining a similar level of sweetness as their flowers, but with a much richer, often overpowering taste. As such, the berries would often be reduced and put into jars of preservers or used as a marinade for meats. Only a little was needed to draw out the richer dimensions of food. While the scent of blood berries will still drive away ghosts, the scent of blood berries is not as strong as their flower counterpart unless actively being cooked. However, dried blood berries, and preserves using them tend to keep especially well in the cold winter months.

While one may assume that Blood Blosdoms were named for their vibrant, red, blood-like hue, it is thought by many historians that blood blossoms were especially favored by the Blood family who hailed from England, and it was them who named the flower. The Blood family's coat of arms features a design that incorporates flowers that look very similar to blood blossoms, perhaps proving to be evidence of this theory.

There are many theories as to why Blood Blossoms repel ghosts, among which is the idea that the scent of these flowers is exceedingly repulsive to ghosts, that something in their chemical makeup makes ectoplasm react in adverse ways when a ghost consumes one, or that it is a component of ghost-repelling spells- therefore ghosts feel a natural aversion to them. However one legend purposes that the reason for why ghosts are repelled by blood blossoms stems from their origin- There is a legend that says that once upon a time, a man would secretly worship at a shrine to a local forest spirit of life and the harvest. The man and his family had been cursed by evil spirits some years before, and where the Christain God had forsaken him and his family, the gentle forest spirit took pity on him and gave him what help she could. He did not have much to offer her. He would work all day in the field and barely yield enough to feed his family. His wife had been injured some years before and so could not work the fields with him anymore, nor could she even ready his meals for him when he returned home each day. And his daughters had fallen under some kind of mysterious illness that, while it fortunately had yet to take their lives, also refused to subside. Still, what little he could spare he would sacrifice to the forest spirit in hopes that she would bring them better fortune, a better crop, and protection from the evil spirits that had cursed him and his family. But one day he came to the nature spirit's alter, a gaping wound in his chest. The ghosts that had cursed his family before had returned for their souls. He did what he could- cast incantations around his humble home, but this injury had been the cost of trying to keep his family safe. The spirits were stronger than his incantations, and it would not be long until the spirits broke through them. He begged the goddess to protect and help his family. Without him, how would they eat? How would his family survive? The humble farmer died on the forest spirit's alter. She wept for the man who sacrificed everything he could to her to protect his family. And so she thought that the least she could do was to grant his wish. Plants erupted from the ground where his blood had spilled, bearing bright red flowers with black thorns. They traveled along the forest path to his home, where they surrounded the building, forcing the ghosts away. They would never return to hurt the family ever again. And with the spirits gone, the daughters were able to heal from the illness. It was soon discovered as they trimmed the wild black thorns back that the flowers were edible and delicious too. The stems and twigs burned especially hot, helping them to keep their hearth warm throughout all the autumn and winter. And the berries kept all the winter through. And so the man's wishes had all come true. For the rest of their days, his family would be protected from the spirits that had haunted them, and they would never need to go hungry ever again.

#danny phantom #danny phantom headcanon #danny phantom herb lore #herb lore #dpxdc #dp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom x dc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc au #blood blossoms

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vampyrsm · 6 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER ELEVEN | TAMONTEN

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues with an insight into the dark recesses of the Shogun's daughter's mind, just how deep have the tendrils of darkness burrowed into her very being? Perhaps things will start to unravel in the light of a new vow...

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 11.7k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, cannibalism, vivid gore and horror, descriptions of bodily harm, jealousy, Sukuna is on the softer side here, smut (dacryphilia, oral f!receiving, spit, very intimate, double penetration, biting/marking, creampie, possessiveness with a hint of a primal kink)

“Watch your tongue, girl.” It’s Uraume who hisses the words. The girl in question seems to disregard Uraume entirely, uncaring for the way her haori flutters at her sides to reveal absolutely everything. You have to blink away the surprise on your face to give way to the confusion.

Sukuna only grunts at the intrusion, heaving a heavy sigh that tells you that this woman is most definitely the guest of the day. His arm remains tight around your waist. As if he knew you were slowly coiling tighter and tighter like a snake once the unknown woman ascended a few steps closer to the throne.

“Yorozu.” Sukuna comments flatly, shoving a curled fist against his cheek when he leans against the armrest of the throne made of bones. “I told you the next time you approach me wearing nothing but a haori, I was going to add your skull to my collection.”

Yorozu doesn’t blanch at the threat, if anything her smile grows on her face when she manages to drag her eyes away from the arm looped around your waist and up towards Sukuna’s face.

With the final step up, her lips part as if she’s ready to play his dangerous game of cat-and-mouse but instead… you watch the way her face suddenly twists in agony. The human body was so malleable, so easy to bend and snap until it was unravelled. Her screams were awfully loud within the grand room, bouncing and ricocheting until they settled against your ears.

You watched as her skin tore itself apart, twisting until it broke with a sickening wet ripping sound. Her once fair skin is replaced by that of blossoming red, it douses the white haori over her shoulders until it’s an entirely different colour altogether.

Mangled and beyond recognition, you still watch with a thrill that flutters in your chest. Her body is splayed against the cool tile floor, her blood seeping into the cracks until it flows away. Even now, the long-haired woman still screams — still wails as her limbs are torn, muscle and sinew alike ripping slowly… like it would if you were to sink your teeth into it.

Would she still be worthy of eating after? Your stomach tightens at the thought, but not in disgust. In sick pleasure. You stare down at the writhing woman, the flesh of her legs is cleanly tugged from the bones that achingly hit against the stone floor with each thrash of her body.

How long could the human body survive before it broke? When would shock set in? The human heart was fragile, like it was almost made of glass and anything could break it. You wanted to be the one to crush her heart in your hand, to feel the rhythmic beating of it as it still rested in her chest before you squeezed… and squeezed… until it burst.

A hand squeezes at your side and you blink away from the scene before you, only to find Yorozu is still staring up at you from her place at the bottom of the step. Sukuna has a much tighter hold over you, the tips of his claws dig past the multiple layers of rich silk and nearly pierce your skin.

Not to hurt you, but to ground you — recenter your mind. As if he knew exactly what you had imagined.

The woman before you, Yorozu, seems to flare her nostrils at the motion. Her fingers curl uselessly into the sleeves of her haori and yet—she still does not close it to hide her modesty. It only serves to spring more questions to mind, just who exactly was Yorozu to Sukuna? He seemed to hold no fondness for her in the way he addressed her, but he didn’t really in the way he spoke to you — did he?

“Spit it out, or get out.” Sukuna commands, a lazy look on his face despite the iron grip on your waist.

Yorozu shifts her light-coloured eyes quickly away from you and back onto Sukuna once he speaks. Ah, so it was infatuation on her behalf, there’s no doubt about that. She looks at him as if he hung the moon and stars.

“Master Sukuna,” Yorozu all but purrs, the lilt in her voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I have what you asked for.”

That makes Sukuna raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t move a muscle to get whatever it is he ‘asked for’. That makes Yorozu shift on her feet once again, the sound of her bare feet on the tiled floor is nothing short of claws on rock.

“I didn’t know we discussed important matters in front of whores now—” She huffs a laugh, her gaze flicking away from Sukuna’s face just in time to miss the raising of his upper lip into a snarl. “Well? Get out of here.” That was addressed to you.

“You’ve been warned once. Watch your tongue.” He snarls in retort, and Yorozu’s thick eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Get on with it.”

Despite her initial shock at the tone Sukuna took with her, Yorozu clears her throat and plasters on a much too sultry smile for your liking. “The Shogun has returned to his home. He no longer resides at the Shogun’s palace—apparently, he had important business at the Zen’in estate.”

You don’t bristle at the mention of your uncle or the fact he’s returned to the Zen’in estate. It was a grand thing, built by and for your father. It held multiple branches of the Zen’in family, all of them trained warriors with formidable cursed techniques. Some of them however had no cursed energy at all… at least that’s what some of the scrolls you had filtered through just a day prior had mentioned.

“He moved his army there?” Sukuna asks, his back straightening just slightly at the idea of slaughtering not just the Shogunate—but the entirety of the Zen’in clan in one fell swoop.

“Mhm,” She hums before continuing. “The Generals and Sun-Moon-Stars are also on the move.”

The Generals and Sun-Moon-Stars? You had no idea who or what they even were, they’d never been mentioned by your father when you had often hovered around him as a child when he discussed strategies with his strongest men.

One of Sukuna’s hands comes up to rub at his chin in contemplation, an odd look on his face. One of deep thought. Whoever these people were, the generals and Sun-Moon-Stars, Sukuna most definitely knew who they were. But you doubt he worries about fighting them, he had no qualms about fighting anyone. He knew himself as the strongest.

“Fine. Where do they move to?”

Yorozu grins like a feline, her eyes nothing short of seductive. Oh, you knew that look on her face — she wanted something in return for her information.

“First. You promised me something.” Sukuna makes a face like he did no such thing. “You promised me that you’d spend time with me. Alone.”

That final word is tacked on with a vicious glance in your direction, aggressive enough to have your own eyebrows raising just a smidgen in surprise. Clearly, the warning Sukuna had growled in her direction just mere moments ago had blown right over her head.

“I promised nothing.” His fingers curl into a fist beneath his chin, propping his head up further so he could sneer down the thickness of his nose at the woman before him. “You mean nothing to me. Why would I devote my time to nothing?”

“And a common whore means something to you?” She spits before she can reign in her tongue, yet she does not back down. Her head held high with a twitch of an eyebrow—she was at her breaking point. You wondered if she too had a cursed technique, she must have if Sukuna had granted her more than one chance to speak to him.

Those long claws sink further into the expensive silk draped over your body, stretching the material until it gives way. He leans forward just slightly, an imperceivable movement but you feel the way he presses closer to you. Keeps you closer. Just out of the corner of your eye, you watch as his upper lip curls into a snarl and the words form on his tongue.

The lower arm of which you were leaning on snakes around your side too, a large hand dipping down until it engulfs the side of your thigh in a possessive grip. You can feel the subtle circles he draws with this thumb, and the way he occasionally drags his hand back and forth as if he were stroking your very skin.

It has your toes curling, your eyes fighting to flutter at the feeling of his hands on your body whilst staring down a woman who wants him so desperately. That heat still simmers from earlier when the two of you had been alone to dress, only growing hotter and hotter with each pass of his fingers along your thigh.

“How dare you speak of my wife like that.”

The entire room stills. Frozen and suspended in time and yet it’s not your cursed energy at work — but rather the words spoken by Sukuna. He doesn’t spit the word like it was a curse, nor does he scowl at the fact he had told a lie about who you are to him. He plays it off as if it were the truth. Why did that make your toes curl once again?

Yorozu sputters. “Wife? Wife?! You–! You said you’d never love someone!”

“I said I’d never love you. You, the lowly street dog from Ainu. You never would’ve served me other than warming my bed before you thicken my broth with your bones.” Sukuna’s voice is a dark rumble in his chest, the grin on his face nothing but pure malice. “Know your place.”

Perhaps it was the shock at the words Sukuna continued to spill at his lips, but you can’t stop yourself from hiding the evident surprise on your features. And Sukuna seems to notice that, as he raises one arm to conveniently block your face with the sleeve of his haori so he can point towards Yorozu.

“Get out of my sight before I mount your head on my wall so you’re forced to watch me fuck my wife.”

Yorozu seems to fight the urge to snarl and snap her jaws at Sukuna, at you, but there’s a drop in temperature in the room. An icy chill that rolls from somewhere, a location you quickly realise is Uraume themselves. The cursed energy they release comes off of them in thick waves, a thick mist starting to coat the floor to bite at the bare ankles of the humiliated woman.

Yorozu leaves soon after, turning on her heel but not before shifting her hateful gaze to you—to stare at you in the eye with a scowl so scathing, you wonder if she had attempted to burn you alive.

The air in the throne room was stifling. A chilling silence that lingered far longer than comfortable, yet Sukuna did nothing to appease said silence and Uraume at least had the decency to resume her post at the bottom of the steps. You, however, weren't sure where to look or how to sit properly.

His wife. That’s what he called you. A title he pinned on you in the face of a woman who wanted nothing more than the four-armed beast still running his fingers up and down your thigh as if he did truly own you – body and soul.

“Uraume,” Sukuna calls finally, snapping the room free from its silence. “Leave us.”

Uraume turns to give a deep bow, their hair shifting with the movement to hide their features. “Yes, my King.” And like that, they were gone in a blink of an eye.

Sukuna handles you off of his lap far too easily, two large hands grabbing at your waist to lift you and place your feet on the floor before he too stands. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t speak a word to you, instead wordlessly expecting you to follow him down the few steps that led away from his throne and out of the room.

You follow — because of course you do. But you’re not entirely sure why, perhaps it was because you felt somewhat safest around him or you simply knew you had no other choice. Not after the failed attempt to kill him once and for all.

He leads you through the neatly cleaned corridors of the temple, tatami flooring swept and kept pristine. You’d think it was home to a Lord of some kind; not a man who had zero qualms about eating another person as if it were the same as eating an apple.

The rooms you pass by are large, but mostly empty save for a few low tables and cushions that appear to be unused for quite some time. It only leads you to wonder who used to live here, before Sukuna had taken ownership. You knew it to be his ancestral temple in a way, this was home to him.

But it was so barren, so large. You wonder if maybe he had plans to fill it one day—maybe with a family of his own or he was just a creature who enjoyed a large space to call his own. The latter seemed more likely.

Eventually, Sukuna stops outside of a large door. It’s different to the others, unpainted with any of the designs that you’d seen on his bedroom door for example. Instead, it’s clean, unassuming, in fact, if you were to walk by it you would’ve missed its very existence.

The room opens up with an easy slide of the shoji door, the smell that comes forth is one you know far too well. Old books. It has your nose wrinkling momentarily, stepping into the room that seems to come to life the second Sukuna steps a foot inside too. The lanterns along the walls all flicker to life, illuminating one by one until you realise you’re standing in a library.

A very extensive library.

There were tall wooden bookcases reaching to the ceiling of the room, and each of them was filled with a variety of things. Scrolls that were stacked atop each other, poorly bound books that looked as old as time itself and stacks of loose papers that seemed to be in a certain order.

It put the small collection you destroyed in Sukuna’s room to shame, what was in there was nothing in comparison to this. This alone looked like it took years upon years to gather, stock up and organise. Was this the reason why Sukuna was so well-versed in all things political and cursed energy-related? He had all of the knowledge he could need at hand.

Sukuna doesn’t stop you when you squeeze yourself out from behind him and into the open room, hardly offering you a second glance as he disappears further into the room to search for something. You can only turn on the spot to truly take in everything, this was far more than you ever expected.

It may even beat the impressive library you’d seen in the Emperor’s Palace as a child.

Noting Sukuna hadn’t beckoned you to follow him, you decide to meander around for yourself. With careful steps, you begin to walk down a long aisle of bookcases. Some of them were unlabelled, simply put there by someone who knew what it was and where to find it when the time called for it. But some did have titles crudely painted and carved into the cover of books.

All history books so far. Asuka Period. Nara Period. You stop once your eyes find the title; Heian Period. No doubt it’d be incomplete, but you wondered just what had been documented so far. So much had happened in a short amount of time since the end of the Nara Period, something your father had often lectured you on as did your teacher.

You pluck it from the shelf, the wave of dust itches at your nose and the tips of your fingers. You can’t help but grimace as it stains your pristine outfit with little specks of grey. The book itself was thick, but you could tell that most of the pages were empty; waiting to be filled in by whoever would ensure the future generations knew what had occurred.

The start of the book is something you’d already learned previously; the movement of the Emperor and how he claimed the capital of Japan. Nothing was out of the ordinary there, but the further you began to read into it… the more you realised it was filled with blatant lies or simply nothing at all.

You stop when you see your father's name written across the page in black ink, his full imperial title. It states his death, but not the cause. Simply that your uncle had transcended to the position of Shogun in the wake of his death. None of this was surprising, but rather it was the history of your father that has you stalling.

You knew him as a man of great peace and understanding, even if he was a hardened warrior. He wanted peace like no other, a world where he didn’t have to worry for the safety of his children—the safety of you. But here it states you did not exist. A Shogun with a deceased wife and no children, no heirs. Nothing. You were wiped clean of the history slate as if you weren’t anyone or anything at all.

Was this the Emperor’s doing? Did he hold sway over the historians who documented everything? Or was it your Uncle, the underlying fear that his brother's daughter would come back with a vengeance and seize the title from him?

“Does it bother you that they wrote you off as nothing?” Sukuna’s voice is much too close. It can’t be helped when you practically jump out of your skin, fingers fumbling to make sure you don’t drop the book–or worse, swing it at the man who approached you with a trained silence.

“It does, doesn’t it? That Samurai pride of yours… No, not just that. The insufferable pride of the Zen’in clan still can’t be snuffed out even in the rejects of the family.” His words are mean, as they always are but something tells you that he isn’t coming completely from a place of total malice and hate—he’s simply telling you what you already know.

But you don’t let him know that you’re aware of the truth he speaks.

“No.” You speak with every ounce of self-confidence you can muster, hunkering down on the tone you had often heard your very father speak in— “No. What bothers me is you daring to claim me as your wife, in front of a woman who pines for you no less.”

His presence behind you remains close, but you can tell he’s standing once again at his full height. So you turn to him once you replace the book on the shelf, and he’s staring down at you with an indifferent look on his features; he doesn’t care for your insolence or tone that you take with him it would seem.

“You used me to make that woman jealous. Didn’t you? Dressed me up as some sort of bride and then splayed me on your lap like a prized house cat. How dare you.”

Sukuna stares at you for a tense long moment, maybe it was only a few seconds in reality but he stares at you like he would if you were a battle, a conquest that he’s figuring out how to conquer.

“Your tongue lashes with such poison and yet,” he leans in much too close, forcing your back to press into the wooden bookcase behind you. “Yet… I can smell just what it did to you, what it still does to you.”

He cages you effortlessly, large hands pressing against the shelves on either side of you to lock you into place as he lowers his face down until he is level with your own. His eyes are all directed at you, watching with such scrutiny that you can feel him just beneath your skin; searching your very soul.

“You’re lying.” You can only breathe in return, even on your tongue you can taste your very own lie. You knew, deep down, that he was telling you the truth — he could smell your arousal, and that thought alone was electrifying in its own way.

“Only one of us is a liar presently.” He heaves in a heavy breath through his nose as if to prove his point, and you have a front-row view of his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head whilst his pupils dilate just enough to nearly swallow the violent crimson of his eyes.

Your heart thunders in your chest, batters against your very rib cage because he’s right. You’re lying to yourself. It had made something in your stomach churn pleasantly when he had openly laid a claim to you like that, to call you his wife in front of not just Yorozu but his right-hand Uraume… it thrilled you to no end.

But you knew. You knew Sukuna didn’t believe in things such as marriage, or even love. It was foolish to believe for a second that he meant it as anything but a way to get rid of a headache that continued to pester him for his time. Another means to an end; that’s what your first ‘marriage’ was. A powerful pawn in the hands of a selfish man.

Sukuna hums quietly to himself, reaching up a hand used to brutalise men and women without a second thought. He brushes a large thumb over the apple of your cheek, rolling it down until he meets your jawline. You feel the wetness smudge beneath the pad of his finger — you hadn’t even realised you were crying.

“I’ve always thought you were such a beautiful crier. You cried too the night you were meant to die, and I thought to myself… no woman had ever looked more beautiful than you did. With blood on your throat, and in the cracks of your teeth… crying.” It’s perverse, yet it has your eyelashes fluttering when he makes another pass of his thumb to swipe at your falling tears.

He leans in once again, his hand slipping away from your cheek to encase itself around your throat. His fingers squeeze gently, an impulsive reflex you think when his lips are within reach of your own. His lower set of eyes are nearly shut completely, whilst he looks at you through thick eyelashes with the other pair.

It’s intoxicating to be this close to him, a mixture of fear and arousal that blend so perfectly together you can’t tell one from the other. He could tear your very throat out in the blink of an eye, slice you into a million pieces and you’d never be found again. But he holds you with a sense of gentleness, his thumb making the barest of movements just beneath the corner of your jaw.

You expect him to lean in to kiss you, to give in to that primal instinct to press against another human being but instead, his lips brush away from your own. They find home against your cheek, before he ever so slowly drags his tongue up along the tear tracks.

He angles his head after his tongue follows along that watery path, until his lips brush against the shell of your ear. His breath is warm when his lips part, “You’d never be nothing with me.”

It’s sinful how easily he can drop the harshness of his voice, how he can soothe out the deep ridges until his voice is nothing but a rumbling purr. It takes great strength on your part to not let your eyes flutter closed and to part your lips to tell him just how much you enjoyed when he spoke to you like that.

“Is that what you want? To be something, to be someone?” Another deep inhale through his nose, no doubt savouring the scent of your apparent arousal. “With me, you could be so much more than just someone.”

“How?” Your own voice is nothing but a whisper, but Sukuna hears you as clear as day. His face breaks into that feline-like smile, brushing his lips against the lobe of your ear before he rounds back around to look you in the eye.

“You’ve already given part of yourself to me, but the rest… give me the rest of you.”

Your blood roars in your ears, screams at you to refuse to fall for another one of his deals—a bargain with the devil himself. But the way his fingers drag down from their place at your throat, gently prying apart your carefully planned outfit until the tips of those fingers brush over your collarbone. It’s impossible to listen to anything but your desire; a desire for more.

It was simple human nature. To want to become something more, to make a mark on the world that had been designed to oppress you as a woman – you wanted to be the reason why men feared your name, why they put you in the history books simply because you were someone. He was offering you power, plain and simple.

You have to wet your lips to get your words to roll from your tongue, and Sukuna looks far too pleased with the effect he’s having on your body. “I don’t—How?” You repeat yourself.

“A Binding vow.” He replies predictably, and his grin grows more wolfish when he sees the recollection dawn on your face. You couldn’t get out of the vow even if you tried once the terms were set. “I promise it won’t be as complicated as the first.”

Those same fingers that were pushing your kimono apart succeed, it falls limply to rest atop your breasts. You expect him to pry it open further but he doesn’t, instead his eyes shift away from your own to settle on the centre of your chest. His fingers brush slowly, gently, along the area as if he were caressing your heart directly.

“Give me your heart.” It comes from his mouth so easily, as if he hadn’t asked for the one thing that keeps you alive. It makes your skin sweaty beneath his touch, hairs rising on the back of your neck as if your brain finally caught up with the fact you’re pinned uselessly beneath a great beast. “And you will have mine. That’s the vow.”

“That’s it?” It seemed far too simple, far too vague that it seemed almost like a joke. Like he was playing on your emotions. “How does killing me give me what I want?”

“I don’t mean literally giving me your heart. Not yet, anyway.” He breathes with a grin, his fingers pressing harder against the softness of your chest until his claws start to dig into the flesh. “Binding the heart should theoretically tie you to my own lifeline, you’d have access to unimaginable strength.”

“Theoretically?” You huff in part amusement and part disbelief, he wanted you to hand over your heart—metaphorically—based on a theory? “You want my heart based on… what, some story written by a monk gone mad?”

Those same claws still on your chest for a moment, but they don’t remove themselves from how they’re embedded in your chest; poised to rip out your beating heart. He instead drags his eyes back up to meet your own, that smile on his face is nothing short of bad intentions.

“What, scared? Where’s that samurai warrior spirit of yours? You had no fear when you tried to cut my head off, twice.” He’s still so close that he speaks the words practically into your mouth. You know he’s trying to coax you into giving him what he wants, you know that, but… it was so easy to let your guard slip until you were intoxicated on everything that was Ryomen Sukuna.

He must see it visibly slip on your face as his smile grows ever-larger, more devious and that hand on your chest splays out wide. The palm of his large hand settles wholly over your heart, even pressing a little harder to feel the rapid thumping of it against his own flesh.

“Well?”

“...I agree.”

He swallows your agreement just as it leaves your lips, his own mouth working against your own whilst his hand presses harder and harder against your chest—until it feels like he’s about to pass his hand right through your body. It burns under his palm, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt before. But you have felt it before, in the hot spring.

Sukuna brands your skin so effortlessly, binds your body to his own with a simple press of his cursed energy. Yet your body feels no different, you don’t feel the ‘unimaginable strength’ Sukuna had theorised about. You feel nothing but the pass of his tongue into your mouth, the tip of it running over the roof of your mouth until he flicks it against your teeth.

He pulls back, mercifully, as your breath grows shorter. He stares down at you intensely, his palm still pressed against your chest. You want to know what’s running through his mind when he stares at you like that, a look that’s calculating yet so disarming.

But instead, there’s a shift of movement and you’re hoisted into the air. Much too high for your liking. Your thighs squeeze around his midsection, and you’re forced to press your hands against his broad shoulders. Sukuna holds you above him, his head tilted back to look at you in a different light – and here you start to understand the look in his eye. Admiration.

“A normal person would’ve died…” He starts, but stops short of finishing his sentence completely. Instead, he draws you impossibly closer to his body, two large hands gripping your thighs whilst the other two hold your waist so delicately.

His words should worry you. His theory was based on the fact that most, if not all, people died at the very notion of binding your heart to another. But instead, you find yourself speechless, staring down at him tips the power scale over. You feel awfully out of place above him like this, his eyes have a different glimmer to them when he’s forced to stare up at you.

You can’t stop your hands from leaving his shoulders to cup his face, your hands seem tiny on either side of his jaw that flexes at the contact. You drag your thumb along the black tattoos along his jaw, tracing them until you have to repeat the gesture over–and over–...

His lips mirror the softness of your own easily enough, he doesn’t force his tongue into your mouth as he had so many times before. Rather, he simply lets you guide the kiss, gently and smoothly. Your body is forced to hunch down to reach his, and he aids you with a hand splayed across the small of your back to keep you steady.

One of your hands slips away from his jaw, hooking your arm loosely around his neck to run your fingers up along the nape of his neck, through the shortened hairs there until you can glide your fingers through the longer pink strands of hair. His chest rumbles between your thighs, a deep sound that resembles something so oddly familiar—

The sound grows louder with each pass of your nails against his scalp, up and back down to scratch at the nape of his neck. It’s only then that you realise the rumble is more like a deep vibration, a purr. Your toes curl against the corded muscles of his back at that sound alone, the press of his midsection between your thighs doesn’t help either.

It doesn’t take very long for the kiss to devolve into a slick mess, his insatiable greed for more growing far too large to ignore. He guides your tongue in a sensual dance, one that has your core aching with the memory of what that second tongue had done between your thighs not even a single night ago.

Suddenly, you’re pulled away from the bookcase he had cornered you against. The movement doesn’t break his concentration on your lips, each of his steps are with purpose. His gait doesn’t falter either when he begins to lower himself down onto his knees, those large hands holding you steadfast to ensure his time with your mouth isn’t cut short.

The way he handles you is entirely different to how he had the previous night. Last night was filled with adrenaline-fuelled lust, rough grabbing hands that took and took until there was nothing left to give. But now, he handles you with a delicacy you’d see reserved for loved ones.

His hands don’t leave your waist when he lays you flat on your back on the softer tatami mat made for sitting and reading on. Instead, he holds you much tighter, like he expects you to wriggle out from beneath him at any second. Though you don’t plan on that any time soon, not when his lips finally break away from your own to press themselves in long passes against your jaw and the hollow of your throat.

The Uchikake slips away from your shoulders, giving him better access to start pulling and tugging in the right places until your kimono unravels entirely from your body. It falls limply at your sides, revealing your bare front to the prying eyes that do a slow sweep up and down your body. The hands at your waist smooth up the expanse of your hips, up along your rib cage until he rests his thumbs just beneath your breasts.

His eyes slip up along the length of your chest, lingering for just a moment on your breasts before he meets your own gaze. That carnal lust for blood has been replaced by nothing but pure desire, it leaks into his eyes until his pupils are dilated and locked onto yours. He looks like a predator who just found his prey.

The length of his tongue is hot against your nipple, the black of his tattoo such a stark contrast to the pink of his tongue as it contorts to swirl around the hardening nipple before he sucks it into his mouth without shame. All whilst he maintains that heedy eye contact, making sure you watch him thoroughly enjoy your body; the body you’ve just given to him so willingly under the guise of a binding vow.

Thankfully, he isn’t forgetful. A hand comes up along your right side, pressing into your skin to feel each and every bump of your ribs beneath the skin that he could shred so easily. His hand comes up to cup the entirety of your breast in one large palm, fingers stretching and then squeezing tightly as if to get a true grasp of just what he was holding.

It’s a painful grasp but it soon bleeds into pleasure when he pinches the stiff peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it until you’re forced to breathe out your pleasure.

The sound that escapes your mouth seems to be what Sukuna was waiting for, his own groan is muffled against the flesh of your breast but it vibrates against your nipple nonetheless. Your hips buck up at the feeling, and in turn, Sukuna presses his own body harder against your own — pinning you beneath him, keeping you still so he could perform his ministrations against your body without interruption.

He continues to twist the tip of his tongue around your nipple, sucking it further into his mouth until you’re sure it’s going to leave a painful bruise in its wake. But then he switches to the other, giving it the exact same treatment whilst his fingers now play with the abused flesh of the nipple dripping in his spit.

Sukuna doesn’t linger much longer on your nipples, instead ducking down to latch his teeth into the fleshy part of your underboob and it’s enough to pull a pained hiss from you. You can feel his lips curl into a triumphant grin at the fact he was able to pull a sound from you and not fight the repercussions.

The path he marks down your body is a tantalising mixture of pain and pleasure, his teeth sink into the fleshier parts of your body – only to be soothed over by the thickness of his tongue. You watch him as he lowers further and further down, his upper set of arms stretched up just slightly so he can continue to pinch at your nipples.

He holds your eyes with his own, settling just at the apex of your thighs and here you can feel the billowing heavy breaths being pushed from his nose. It makes your toes curl and thighs rub together in an attempt to stave off the pressure between your legs. Sukuna of course doesn’t miss the movement, his tongue flicks out to run over his upper lip. He looked as if he were about to devour a meal.

The spare pair of hands come to your outer thighs, easily pressing his fingers into the flesh to manoeuvre them up and over his shoulders once he settles himself on his stomach between your thighs. It’s an odd sight; to see a man as gigantic as Sukuna on his stomach, between your thighs of all places.

Part of you expects him to dive straight into it, he spreads your legs so wide on his broad shoulders that you don’t doubt he can see everything on display. That alone has heat burning at the tips of your ears and buzzing in the apple of your cheeks, it’s entirely different from the previous time he had been between your legs.

It felt different when he used the tongue at his stomach, almost like that was just a way to prepare him for you but this…—it was beyond intimate. A man willing to lay down on his stomach in such a vulnerable position just for the purpose of pleasuring you was mind-numbingly attractive.

Those hands that had been pinching and squeezing at your breasts have meandered their way down to your thighs, easily wrapping themselves around the meat of your thigh to lock you into place whilst the bottom set of hands pry you open. Now that has you squirming, you can feel the wet heat of your desire leaking down to stain the pristine white fabric of your kimono that had been turned into a temporary blanket.

You want to look away from him, to divert your gaze away from the downright filthy look in his own. He doesn’t break away, not once, not when his jaw works for a moment before he spits against your clit. Your thighs tense, your hips jumping up at the contact of the significantly cooler liquid against the molten warmth of your pussy.

Then. Then, he graces you with the length of his tongue. It presses against you, the tip of it dipping between your spread folds to then drag its way up until it teasingly flicks against your clit. Again, you jolt from the pleasure. It was most definitely different from the tongue in his stomach, that one was much too big – made purely to ensure you were dripping wet before he took you.

But this tongue… the skilled tongue that had spat threats so easily, and had been the home of smug words and arrogance like no other. It was working you to completion much quicker than ever before. Sukuna must realise it too, noticing the sudden rush of arousal that graces his tongue and lips because he locks his arms tighter around your thighs. And then, he truly devours his meal.

Long gone are the gentle, slow passes of his tongue. Each pass of his tongue is aggressive in a way that has your toes curling into his back and the heel of your feet dragging along the tattooed flesh there. His lips are unforgiving when they latch themselves to your clit, those teeth that you’d seen rip through flesh graze teasingly against the sensitive nub there until your fingers find a home in his hair.

When you pull, he groans. A low, deep rich sound that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He sounds like a wounded animal, like he’s teetering on the edge of his own bliss with each clamping pull of your hand in his hair. He doesn’t give up on the quick passes of his tongue over your clit, nor does he stop drooling against your pussy as if you were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

You jerk beneath his ministrations once again, and your fingers tighten on his hair. Holding him in place as you ride the start of your orgasm against his tongue, Sukuna looks like he’s lost in his own world—one that contains only you and him in this very moment. His eyes are half-lidded yet you can see the unbridled lust there, something so humanly wanton that it makes your thighs twitch.

Then it washes over you. You feel a tug in your chest, a pooling of vicious lust in your stomach and with a moan of his name, a breathy “Ryomen!”, you cum on his tongue. He holds you in place thankfully, your hips jumping uncontrollably because his nose continues to press against your clit with each deep press of his tongue into your still throbbing walls.

Sukuna finally pulls himself away from the salvation he found between your thighs, the bottom half of his face and part of his cheeks are drenched. A shiny clear sheen of your very obvious arousal, and he grins. All sharp teeth and dark intentions on display, his eyes glitter with the fact he had you come undone on his face so quickly—so easily.

He then crawls back up the length of your body, slow movements that pull his muscles perfectly. He’s the very image of an apex predator, and you find yourself slipping far too easily into the role of his unlucky prey. Your legs spread once again for him with the help of his own thighs spreading you wider, he’s fully dressed yet you can feel the heavy press of his twin cocks.

A hand comes up to your face, a curled index finger stroking along the soft skin beneath your eye and down towards your temple, wiping away the stray tears that had come loose in the height of your orgasm. “You’re beautiful when you cum.” He says it nonchalantly like it’s a fact more than a compliment, yet it still has your heart pumping faster and arousal spiking.

The kiss he lays against your lips is undoubtedly soft, far too soft for the man you know him as and it’s so fleeting that you’re left wondering if it truly even happened. His mouth instead finds a home against your neck, panting breaths pressed against the scarred flesh there from the previous times he tore you apart, just to piece you together again with his very own hand.

He settles his weight between your legs, forcing your thighs to spread impossibly wider to accommodate him. But instead of resting there for much longer, his hands grab at your waist and thighs. The world shifts around you, a blur of movement and a thump of a body against the floor — all to reveal Sukuna now splayed out beneath you.

His hands stroke gently up along the bareness of your thighs, and slowly back down to stroke the soft skin at your knees. He still looks impossibly big even beneath you, but it makes your heart seize in your chest. He put you in a place of power, a seat of dominance on his very lap; all with a lazy smile on his face.

“It’s an equal exchange,” he explains when he sees the thoughts flit behind your eyes. “I take from you, and you take from me.”

Right. The Binding Vow. The reason why your chest still burns with an idle ache that feels familiar to the one at your wrist. Instead of answering him, you look down at your own body, noting the numerous bite marks embedded into your skin. Your fingers brush along each of them until you halt at the centre of your chest, right between your breasts—

There’s a new tattoo. It’s different to the band around your wrist, instead, it’s two curved lines separated with a smaller tear-drop line in the middle, shaped like a trident. The long lines curve with your breasts, the teardrop resting just over the centre of your heart.

Your fingers brush over it briefly, there’s an aching sting beneath the fresh ink that blossomed on your skin. It’s tiny compared to the one you’ve seen on Sukuna’s body, on his tongue. You want to know what the symbols mean to him, each of them must hold a different reason for their shape and placement.

“You suit them,” Sukuna supplies after a moment of watching you trace over the trident-like shape on your chest, and your eyes drift back up to meet his. That lust is still there but it’s softened into a gentler, more welcoming red.

“I don’t think I’d suit the face tattoos.” You admit, and he arches an eyebrow in amusement at your words.

“No? You dislike them?” His claws playfully drag down along the flesh of your thighs, earning him a full-body shiver which inevitably causes his cocks to twitch from where they’re trapped against your still wet-heat between your thighs.

Your laugh causes his own lips to turn into a smooth smile, his eyes tracking the movement when you shake your head. “Always putting words in my mouth,” you lean forward, planting your hands on his chest and inwardly mourning the fact he was still wearing his own kimono. “I just think you look much better with them. Fearsome.”

His eyebrow remains raised in feigned disbelief, perhaps even faked hurt. “Just fearsome? I bathe you in compliments, and in return I get fearsome?”

You lean ever closer, brushing your nose playfully against his and he returns the motion but a little more harsher. It’s an odd air that’s settled over the both of you, maybe it was the binding vow still setting in. You had handed him your very heart, and you were still due to take his. It’s not an unenjoyable air however, if anything, it’s the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time.

“Handsome. Ruthless. Regal.” Each word is breathed between kisses along the thick line of the tattoo along his jaw until you’re nestled next to his ear. “Does that satisfy you, or do you want me to stroke your ego some more?”

A buck of his hips has your newfound confidence wavering, a tumbling moan falling from your lips and gracing his ear. His hands grasp tightly at your hips whilst a large palm smoothes over the expanse of your ass, grabbing and squeezing — only to smack you with enough force to spring tears to your eyes.

“Careful.” He blows the word against your own ear, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your earlobe before laying a kiss just beneath.

As if remembering just the hold you have over him at the moment, you lean out of the biting range of that wandering mouth. He nearly snarls at the fact you pull away, until you start to tug at the obi belt of his kimono. Undoing all the layering until his chest is laid bare for you. You trace your own finger along the expanse of the lines that mar his chest there, down the chunk-like squares until your hand presses over his own heart.

Sukuna at least lifts his hips to help you push down his Hakama and free him completely from the confines of the materials you had dressed him only a short while ago. He relaxes further with the skin-to-skin contact, yet those cocks between your thighs twitch impatiently; drooling against his defined muscles.

He holds your gaze when you plant a hand on his stomach, lifting your own hips to guide a hand between them and take hold of one of the thick cocks waiting for attention. You leave the upper one untouched, and he grunts at the realisation you won’t be taking both—not yet, anyway.

The tip of his cock grazes against your still-sensitive clit, and glides through the sticky mess between your lips. You’d only grown more and more wet for him as you found yourself atop of him, and you don’t doubt that you could take him… with a bit of a struggle.

Sukuna schools his features well but you don’t miss the swell of his chest when he sucks in a breath, your entrance swallows the tip of his cock greedily and that alone has a stinging burn pinching at your walls. But you preserve, you push through inch by inch until you’re seated on his thighs with his heavy balls resting at the curve of your ass.

You clench involuntarily, and finally, the mask slips away from Sukuna’s face. He groans, without shame, kiss-bruised lips parting to relieve him of the pleasure he was trying to keep to himself. His hands are clamped to your hips, holding you in place just to give him a second to breathe — to recalibrate his brain and try to focus on anything but just how tight and warm your pussy was.

“Even after nearly stuffing you with two cocks, you’re still so fucking tight.” He hisses, sharp fangs on display when he grits his teeth to give a tentative roll of his hips up into you.

Your thighs tense, walls throbbing around his length and the pretty moan pulled from your lips is complimented by his own rumbling groan. On instinct your own hips grind back, your clit catching against the underside of his unattended cock and those long black claws finally sink into your flesh.

It feels too good. Far too good, and you’ve not even moved yet—not properly. You want to ride him, to sit atop of him and watch him unravel whilst nestled beneath you. But it’s becoming increasingly hard to think when you feel the tip of his cock that’s buried deep inside of you twitch against that one spongy spot deep inside of you.

So you distract yourself, momentarily. Your hand slides away from his stomach and wraps around the weeping cock against his pelvis, Sukuna jerks at the motion as if he hadn’t expected you to take care of both. Your fingers don’t reach around the girth of him, but you squeeze nevertheless.

His cock is dripping with your arousal from when you had been seated atop of him, you had been turned on for him so much so that it had leaked through his pants. Your hand glides easily up and down, twisting gently at the tip of his cock to roll your thumb over the slit there before spreading the mixture of your slick and his pre-cum down along his length.

Sukuna all but groans prettily at the way you handle him, head thunking back against the floor when he finally, finally, relinquishes control to you. You give another grind of your hips and the pinching burn there has started to bleed away into undeniable pleasure, so you shift a little atop of him.

As if realising what you were about to do, Sukuna places his hands just beneath your thighs. Not to control you, but to simply guide you, support you, if you needed it. The first bounce is awfully loud and sticky, your pussy greedily sucking his cock back in when you drop down to his hips.

Your hand slackens a little around the cock still leaking near his belly button, so a large hand engulfs your own and starts to move your hand up and down a little more aggressively — so not totally out of control, but you can’t complain when he nudges his hips slightly to meet your bounces.

His cock presses beautifully against that spot deep inside of you repeatedly, each bounce and drop in gravity hammering the mushroomed head of his cock against it until your stomach coils painfully. Your impending orgasm makes itself suddenly known, and this one feels much more intense than the others. A pressure in your lower stomach that has your jaw slackening to moan without any shame.

Sukuna watches you through thick lashes, biting down on his lip to stop himself from growling or moaning, perhaps even both. Those hands beneath your thighs have started to slowly shift up until they rest at your hips, and a hand smooths itself over your lower back. And it’s a very subtle warning for what's to come.

A man like Sukuna is undoubtedly strong, made of muscles that were purely for ripping and shredding through people with ease. So it’s hardly a surprise when he bucks up into your hard, enough to plant his feet squarely on the floor before he fucks into you like he’d never get a chance to fuck you again.

You can only squish your chest to his own to save yourself from slamming into him, and his hand on the lower portion of your back holds you there. Pins you to him in a vulnerable position whilst his hips work to thrust his cock hard and deep into your velvety core.

A surprised moan mixed with a yelp is torn from your throat when a hand smooths itself down over your ass before pressing rather unceremoniously into the tight ring of muscle there, it’s not an unwelcome feeling but it still has you panting open-mouthed against the thick muscle of his chest.

The orgasm that was building erupts far too quickly, and all you can do is gasp against his chest with a breathless “‘M gonna— gonna cum, please, please—” You don’t specify what you’re begging for, but Sukuna knows exactly what you’re pleading for.

So he doesn’t let up on the fast and aggressive pace of his hips, snarling into your ear when you clench repeatedly around the length of his cock. The juices that drip from your abused pussy soak him entirely, ruining the material that had gathered beneath the both of you and it only aids in making the slapping noise of his balls against your ass even louder.

His hips only begin to slow once he’s rung out your orgasm until you’re oversensitive, flinching with each pass of his cock against your swollen walls. He lets you settle atop of him, his cock still buried deep inside of you and throbbing with the need to release but he holds himself back, and staves off his own climax.

You nearly purr when a hand finds itself in your hair, long claws scratching delicately at the sweaty scalp there until you’re ready to continue. The twitch of his cock pressed between his stomach and your own has your toes curling, and that small coil in your stomach twists with delight at the fact you’re still not finished.

That hand drifts away from your hair once you reposition yourself atop of him, your hands dragging along the smooth expanse of his chest to settle at his stomach. His body gleams with a sheen coat of sweat, and his lungs expand harshly with each breath he sucks in. It seems fucking you through an explosive orgasm so aggressively took it out of him.

“You’re beautiful,” you find the words slip from your lips so easily, and Sukuna can’t stop the surprise crossing his features. Beautiful, no doubt a word that has never been used to describe him. But you mean it. He looks awfully angelic like this, in a twisted way when a quiet voice whispers in the back of your mind about the atrocities he’s committed.

Yet it’s very easy to ignore that voice, to push it down and silence it. His hair is slicked back with sweat, yet tendrils of it curl around his ears and at the nape of his neck – sticking to the sweat there that continues to roll down his skin in droplets. His eyes are somewhat satiated as if seeing you reach bliss twice was enough for him for the day. His lips are set in a soft line, relaxed.

Truly beautiful.

He parts his lips to speak, maybe even to retort your compliment but you silence the words on his tongue by lifting up from his lap. His cock slips free from your swollen pussy, and it’s enough to make the both of you hiss in tandem.

“Done already?” He questions, a tint of his voice sounding almost disappointed at being left high and dry. Though, you don’t say a thing when you shift your body up onto your knees so you’re hovering over not just the one cock, but the both of them.

As if realising what you were planning, Sukuna wraps a hand around the girth of both of his cocks to help you when you start to lower yourself on both of the tips. Even after the mind-blowing orgasm, it’s still a very tight squeeze. Your face scrunches with the blossoming pain, and you know you should slow down. But that incessant tugging in your heart has your body overpowering your brain, and you lower yourself down… and down.

You only let out a heavy breath when you feel his thighs brush against the inner part of your own, and Sukuna grips your hips much more harshly compared to before. The whooshing of blood in your head is much too loud, and it only makes you feel like your head is submerged beneath water.

“Look at me.” A command, and you obey it wordlessly. You meet Sukuna’s gaze, and he’s staring at you with more care than you’ve ever witnessed. Your heart squeezes again in your chest, and you’re only now realising that it feels like a hand is wrapped around your very heart.

Your own fingers glide along the sweaty expanse of his chest, pressing into the muscle there until you locate the exact position of his heart in his chest. It beats so heavily beneath his skin, thumping against your palm as if it yearns to break free and be held by your gentle hold.

“How do I do it?” You ask in a breathless whisper, you hadn’t made a mutual contract like this before. You simply agreed to lend him your strength when he asked for it, but this time he had offered his own heart to you in exchange.

“Just take it, it’s yours.” He lays his head back against the floor, eyes staring down the bridge of his nose to stare at you. He offers no further guidance, nothing to help you with figuring out how to take a man's heart—figuratively.

He made it seem so simple, as easy as laying his hand against your own chest and wrapping his cursed energy around your heart until it beat for him, and only him. So you follow in his footsteps, your own nails dig into the muscle of his pectoral muscles and he at least notes the discomfort of you digging harshly enough to draw blood.

You feel the tug in your own chest, his cursed energy squirms in your very body until it seizes around your heart and holds it still. Then you force your mind to focus on your own cursed energy, you let it wrap around his own that nestles itself tighter around your heart until the two become one.

It snakes down your veins, from your fingertips and inevitably into his chest. It burns your palm when you press harder, ensuring that the vow is made successfully. Sukuna’s upper lip twitches in discomfort, yet he does not stop you from completing it.

Your hips twitch involuntarily when you feel the familiar embrace of that dark energy that he exudes, it welcomes you so easily. It wraps its cold arms around you and digs into your flesh, pulling you further and further in until you can sense nothing but the man beneath you.

“Take it.” Sukuna hisses through gritted teeth, and you do. You clamp down on his heart, your cursed energy snaps violently into place and Sukuna jerks at the sudden burst of it in his chest. His hands grip your hips harshly, tearing into the flesh without a care in the world and you yourself can’t find it within you to care about the blood that spills from your hips.

Instead, you gasp in his hold, overcome with such an intense feeling of undeniable power. Strength beyond comprehension. Its dark tendrils slither beneath your skin, nestling themselves around your bones until they become a part of you. It doesn’t stop until you accept it, fully.

Something snaps into place and you blink back into reality to find Sukuna staring at you with a wide-eyed expression, something that makes him look so much younger than he really is. You feel his heartbeat beneath the palm of your hand, and it matches the pounding in your ears.

He moves you effortlessly until you’re beneath him, not once breaking his eyes away from you — staring at you as if he’s never quite seen you before. The power that bleeds from him is familiar, it’s welcoming, it’s your own.

The binding vow was complete.

He crowds you into the floor, two large arms caging either side of your head when he hunches down over you. The other arms work to lift your hips up to meet his own, wrapping your legs higher up around his waist before he starts to thrust into you, slowly… as if testing the waters.

The moan that’s punched out of you sounds wounded, not because you were sore from being stretched around two cocks but because your pleasure seems heightened beyond belief. You can feel everything and then some.

One of those hands holding up his weight moves, cupping the side of your face. It always amazed you just how well he manoeuvred himself despite how large of a man he was, he wasn’t as nimble as some but he most definitely moved with a certain type of grace that was undoubtedly him.

His thumb swoops down, pressing just beneath your jaw and tilts your head up slightly to meet his own. The kiss he devours you with is nothing short of consuming, he isn’t gentle with how he keeps his lips pressed tightly to yours when his hips roll once–twice, and then he’s fucking you at a rhythm that has your toes curling sharply.

The coil that had lain dormant in your stomach suddenly sparks back to life, it curls tight in your lower stomach until your thighs seize up and you’re left to clamp around the two sizable cocks shoved deep inside of you. Sukuna groans at that, a shuddering sound that’s expelled against your lips before he returns to your mouth.

His tongue pries you open easily enough, and his tongue is unyielding as he laps at you. Two hands flex at your thighs, long fingers digging into the flesh behind your knees to effortlessly fold you further into the mating press—you can’t help but gasp into his lips, pushing out the last of your breath into his panting mouth.

“Mine,” Sukuna snarls like some feral beast, sharp canines glinting in the shimmering flame from the lanterns dotted around the room. It’s so primal, the way he takes you, the way he folds you nearly in half just to fuck himself deeper into you; to ensure you feel every last inch of him. “Say it.”

He gives a particularly hard thrust with the last word, gritting his teeth at just how tightly you clamp down around him. The hand at your jaw slips down, taking hold of your throat so easily and pinning you to the floor beneath him. He pulls back just slightly, enough so that you can see his face entirely — can see just how much you affect him.

Your answer doesn’t come quick enough, however, as he rolls his hip back smoothly only to fuck into you with much more vigour. The rhythmic wet slapping sound contests against your choked moans, you can feel each time his balls slap against your ass; how heavy they are.

“‘M yours—” You manage to choke past the squeezing of his hand at your throat, the wild glint in his eye is dangerous. A look that you’ve seen before, right before he struck with the goal to kill. “Yours! Yours—fuck!”

Sukuna chuckles breathlessly, sounding no better than yourself. He looks absolutely ruined, sweat dripping along the side of his face, at the back of his neck and along his chest. He looks positively divine, something you want to sink your teeth into. That realisation has you clamping down suddenly, pulling a shameless moan from the man above you.

You’re so close, so fucking close that you can taste it on your tongue. Sukuna can feel it too, his gaze locking with your own before he shifts just slightly onto his knees. And then when he’s truly above you, does he start fucking into you at a much deeper angle. The tip of his cock drags heavily along your g-spot whilst simultaneously ramming itself against your cervix—it’s painful.

But a type of pain that has your toes curling mercilessly, your hand grasps uselessly at the arm closest to you, the one holding you beneath him. You slip your spare hand down along your body, taking advantage of the small gap he’s granted you by wanting to watch you come undone entirely.

Your fingers slip through the mess of curls below, you’re absolutely drenched—beyond wet, a type of wetness that only Sukuna is evidently able to pull from you. You find your clit, swollen and so sensitive that you flinch at the brief contact from your fingers.

Sukuna seems to notice too, his lower set of eyes drifting down to see the way you touch yourself whilst he fucks you with both his cocks. His mouth opens in a wordless groan. You can feel the slickness gathering there when you brush your fingers down along your pussy, to brush your fingers against the sides of his cocks as he continues to fuck you.

It grows increasingly difficult to smoothly roll your fingers over your clit, the stickiness causing your fingers to slip too quickly—sometimes moving away from your clit entirely when Sukuna gives a particularly rough thrust of his hips. He’s fucking you like he needs you to cum, like if you don’t then surely his heart might give out.

Meeting Sukuna’s gaze again, you can’t stop the way you clench around him and in return, Sukuna bares his teeth at you. It’s non-threatening, not quite as lethal as the previous times he did it in the past. Instead, it sends heat shooting down your spine, flaring up in your stomach and it’s impossible to stop the orgasm the second you register it happening.

You moan, head flung back against the tatami mat with a dull thud and your entire body tenses up. The growl that comes from Sukuna is guttural, a deep sound that you can feel vibrate through your very own body from just how loud it is.

His fingers tighten around your throat, and with a gasping breath, you call for him. “Ryomen,” you flinch at the sensitivity of your clit when he throws his hips harsher against your own. “Ryomen, please, please—”

You may not know what you’re begging for exactly, but Sukuna seems to pick up on it flawlessly. His body surges forward, the width of his shoulders hiding you completely beneath him before his lips clash with your own. It’s not much of a kiss with the both of you panting in the other's mouth, and then he snarls—

“You are mine.”

His hips stutter for just a moment before you feel him thicken impossibly further deep inside of you, both of his cocks throbbing and twitching—it sends a painful twinge up your spine before the relief comes. Both of his cocks twitch simultaneously, the pulse releasing a wave of seed deep inside of you. It’s warm, almost unbearably so, yet you relish in the feeling of it.

You feel complete. A contentedness settles deep in your chest and wraps around you in a comforting arm, and all you can do is moan sweetly into Sukuna’s awaiting mouth as he shudders through his orgasm. His hips continue to pump against you, forcing his cum as deep as possible inside of you—claiming you in the most primal way.

The world swirls around you, looming bookcases seeming to grow taller as the lethargy starts to kick in. Sukuna lowers his body slowly down atop you, still refusing to pull out from you but you can already feel the stickiness of his release trickling from around where the two of you joined and ruining the slips of silk beneath you.

The hand at your throat moved at some point, instead coming up to smooth through your hair, peeling it away from your sweaty skin before brushing it further back. It has you leaning into the touch, and you’re sure if you could purr, you would at the tenderness Sukuna is handling you with.

His nose smooths up along your cheek, his breaths coming in deep and heavy before he finds the shell of your ear. “You are mine, as I am yours. Your strength will know no bounds, for as long as you stay at my side.”

A tingling sensation burns at your chest, an itch that you can’t quite reach once his words settle against your ear. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion starting to take its toll on your brain, but his words almost sound like he was completing the binding vow with an additional rule…

‣‣ Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

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cyberwhumper · 4 months

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The animal is quite skittish. Despite being alone in the quiet room, able to do whatever it pleases, the creature chooses to spend days pressed up against the corner, terrified of imaginary punishments that don't seem to come. Even as Imran steps into the room to swap old food for a fresh serving, the biopet still doesn't move much from its spot despite being so obviously terrified of him. Every step makes Horus flinch in fear.

He had been so patient with it up to this point, giving the injured creature plenty of space and a consistent environment to help soothe its nerves, yet Imran still couldn't help but feel concern. It hasn't eaten in almost a week, it barely moves from the corner of the room, it whimpers if the man so much as looks it in the eyes. At night it cries itself to sleep, the soft sobbing carried through the house tugging painfully at Imran's heartstrings.

The bruises and cuts which littered its body blossomed into horrifying shades of crimson and purple, areas where he hadn't even noticed the animal was hurt seeming to be bruised as well. In fairness, his eagerness to remove the creature out of that squalid situation likely played a part. He should have inspected Horus better, assessed the damage more calmly, actually planned what to do once he got home. Not that it seemed to mind.

Imran doesn't know whether or not it's even intelligent enough to understand what's happening around it. In the eyes of an animal, the constant change in environments, owners, even down to the rules it's supposed to follow, must be extremely stressful. In a way, he almost hopes Horus doesn't understand, so that it may be spared the burden of knowing the full extent of what it has gone through.

It takes almost another entire week before Imran catches the faintest glimpse of progress, the slightest sliver of hope. The animal, hungry and desperate, had slowly dragged itself to the food bowl. He caught it passed out right on top, so exhausted it didn't seem to have had the energy to drag itself back. Food, he hoped, could be the way to coax the biopet out of its shell. To get confirmation that his strategy was working made Imran elated.

Perhaps one day he could live to see a situation in which Horus would truly be happy and healthy.

Perhaps then, and only then, he could feel like he atoned.

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#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno6 #exhaustion #oc #art #whump #caretaking #bruises #whump art #pet whump #pet whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #feral whumpee #animalization #original character #original story #tokimeki art #Horus

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catscidr · 3 months

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Could you make a scenario with sick reader and Yandere doctor please 😭

need him to walk into my room in a nurse outfit and take care of me when i get sick... but Alas he's not real... woe is me(༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)..... WHATEVER i can always write about him anyways so im WINNING EITHER WAY...... (inhales copium) ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: yandere dottore, he's a little overbearing, reader has a cold. that's pretty much it (lmk if i missed anything!) includes: gn reader, dottore, iota (youngest segment) wc: 1,3k

Ooohhhh he would be mad. Not in an explosive way, but in a “I’m not mad, just disappointed” way except he IS mad, he’s just really good at keeping his emotions under wraps. You know this, too. He made sure that you did.

It didn’t matter what kind of illness you came down with; a common cold, the flu, something worse? He’s freakishly good at reading you, and he didn’t need to hear you blowing your nose or sniffling every other second to know you had gotten sick. The skin around your nose blossoming into a darker, reddish tone and your eyelids drooping just a bit lower than usual was enough for him to know you weren’t telling him something you should have.

It also didn’t matter if you didn’t even see him- he had eyes everywhere, quite literally. It was rare for you to be anywhere in the palace or the lab without one of his clones attached to your hip, whether it be a younger clone tagging along to do something more interesting than breaking open a ruin guard, or an older clone staying by your side, taking a break from work to enjoy your company.

So, of course, even if the doctor happened to be especially busy when you suddenly caught a cold, you’d still be stuck with him being the equivalent to a mother hen because of how seriously he took your health.

Usually you didn’t mind his attention, you’d even bask in it, but this time you couldn’t stand it. Your state had been manageable for the past two days and, thankfully, Prime and his clones were none the wiser to your nose overproducing snot nor the way your eyes had more crust around them when you woke up in the morning. But you feared that today would be the day he’d catch you and promote you to being his bedwarmer- literally. Last time you got sick and went to him for help you felt like you were in urgent care, forced to stay in his bed, having at least two of his segments stay with you 24/7, making you eat four meals a day despite your lack of appetite and desperate need for sleep.

You could insist all you want that you were fine, that you just needed to vegetate in bed for a day or two and you’d be back on your feet in no time, but no, he refused to have any of it. He’d ask who’s the doctor here? in the same condescending voice he used whenever one of his lackeys displeased him (and you’d reply with you didn’t even graduate if you weren’t so tired), and then would throw you over his shoulder to bring you to his spotless bedroom so you could rest while he keeps an eye on you.

The one thing you were happy about was how Dottore wasn’t prone to blatant violence. Nothing physical, at least. When needed, he would slip medication into your water to help you sleep, would graciously lift your sleeve to give you a shot while you were knocked out cold and give you special medicine to make sure you had all the vitamins you needed. He wouldn’t do any of that if you had cooperated with him in the first place, though; so, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him. At least not for long.

Like clockwork, you were currently going through that same order of events.

In retrospect, it was a bad idea to indulge Iota and go out in the snow to make a snowman with him- but how could you resist him! The lab could feel so stuffy as it was, and the additional smell of blood covered up by strong cleaning agents only did so little to help you resist his pleas. So, you grabbed Dottore’s Harbinger coat and got yourself dragged outside by the small but mighty youngest segment as he eagerly talked your ear off about having a snowball fight, making a myriad of snow angels and other winter activities you weren’t familiar with.

After getting absolutely pelted with snow (Iota was good at snowball fights, surprisingly) you hung up Dottore’s coat to dry and made your way to the bathroom to wipe off any snow and water that had gotten on your skin despite the large, fluffy cloak you wore. Iota waved you off with a boyish grin and a taunting better luck next time! as you watched him saunter off into the direction of his creator’s lab. Your fingertips felt cold but as you dried your skin thoroughly you felt your body gradually warm up, and that was enough for your standards.

Placing the towel on a rack to dry, you then headed over to your room to relax your aching muscles after the remarkably intense snowball fight. You laid down underneath the covers, grateful to be able to take a nap. However, when you awoke about two hours later, you thought you felt your arms weighed even more than before, and your head throbbed an ache that wasn’t there previously. And surely, a day later, you find yourself sneakily throwing away your used tissues somewhere that Dottore won't find them, else he subjects you to his overbearing methods of... curing you.

You did your best to make your footsteps as careful and light as possible, lowering the chances of one of them finding you with a trash bag full of snot-filled tissues. Unfortunately for you though, maybe you should have worn something other than pyjamas because, as luck had it, although a segment hasn’t seen your physical state, a patrolling agent did.

He spoke into a walkie-talkie quietly enough that your ears didn’t pick up the sound of his voice and, as you're about to step outside to throw the trash bag out, you feel a hand on your shoulder. A cold, gloved hand that you could recognize anywhere with your eyes closed. You halt your movements as the (not so) mysterious figure behind you stays silent, waiting for you to say something first.

Your shoulders slump forward in defeat, and you sniffle. “I don’t wanna be locked up in your room again,” you say quietly, voice slightly slurred from your cold. He scoffs, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently enough for it to be comforting. “Maybe if you didn’t try to go outside while having a cold I would reevaluate your options,” he sighs. “Alas, you leave me no choice. What were you thinking?” Dottore turns you around and frowns, tilting his head to the side. If you were anyone else you would have been dead where you stood, but here you are; wearing one of his old shirts and a loose pair of sweatpants, one of your hands gripping a trash bag, and the other wiping your nose. You stand awkwardly, looking away sheepishly, not particularly enjoying being caught red-handed like this.

“It would be unhygienic to keep all of those used tissues in my room,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug. He holds back the urge to sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, mask lifting just a tad from the action, and exhales slowly. You would be the death of him eventually, he thought tiredly.

Dottore bends down low enough to grab the bag from your hands and looks over his shoulder, tossing it to a poor unsuspecting fatui soldier. The soldier in question stumbles back slightly, just barely keeping themselves from tripping over, as Dottore signals for them to throw it away themselves. You don’t have the time to speak up before the person scurries away.

“Next time don’t be so obvious,” he says quietly enough that only you can hear him. He bends his torso forward slightly, holding his face leveled with yours. “And next time you decide to get sick,” he begins with a raspy tone, holding your chin up with his palm, “come to me immediately. Lest you want me to wrestle you into my room again.”

You’d be blushing if you didn’t know what was going to happen. Dottore straightens his back and outstretches his hand to you, looking at you from below his mask. Defeated, you interlace your fingers with his and jut your lip out as you hold back the urge to whine. A small smile graces his face as he guides you back to the lab.

#୧ ‧₊˚orderup!#genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x gn reader #il dottore x y/n #il dottore x you #il dottore x gn reader #il dottore x reader

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unboundprompts · 5 months

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writing a fic where blorbo is poisoned and blorbo in love with her has to take care of her, ideas for how i could get this across?

I would recommend doing some research on the poison involved so that it's as realistic as possible. In a fantasy/sci-fi setting you can probably make up your own poison and choose the symptoms and treatment you deem the best for the situation. Here are some ideas to help you with that:

General Symptoms of Poison

-> from this source.

Stomach Pain

Feeling Nauseous/Being Sick

Drowsiness

Dizziness

Weakness

High Temperature

Chills (shivering)

Loss of Appetite

Headache

Irritability

Difficulty Swallowing

Breathing Difficulties

Skin Rash

Blue Lips and Skin

Double Vision/Blurred Vision

Sudden, Noticeable Heartbeats (Palpitations)

Mental Confusion

Seizures

Loss of Consciousness

Treatment

-> seeking medical help is also a good idea. The best idea probably.

-> from this source.

If they are poisoned by swallowing something, try to get them to spit out anything that is remaining in their mouth.

If they are unconscious and swallowed something, try to wake them to encourage them to spit out anything left in their mouth. Do not put your hand into their mouth and do not try to make them sick.

If the poison is on their skin or clothes, remove their clothes and wash the affected area with warm or cool water. Be careful not to contaminate yourself.

Lay the person on their side with a cushion behind their back and their upper leg pulled slightly forward so that they do not fall on their face or roll backwards. (Recovery Position)

If vomiting, keep their head pointed down to prevent them from breathing it in or swallowing it. Do not give them anything to eat or drink.

If they have stopped breathing or their heart has stopped, perform CPR.

It is important to know what substances you think the person may have swallowed, when it was taken, why it was taken, how it was taken, and how much was taken.

Any existing medical conditions prior to being poisoned are important to be aware of, as it may impact their recovery/ the poison may have effects on their condition.

Activated Charcoal - sometimes used to treat someone who's been poisoned. It binds to the poison and stops it being further absorbed into the blood.

Antidotes - these are substances that either prevent the poison from working or reverse its effects.

Sedatives - may be given if the person is agitated.

Ventilator (breathing machine) - may be used if the person stops breathing.

Anti-epileptic medicine - may be used if the person has seizures.

Writing Prompts For a Character Being Poisoned

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

"Hey, hey, hey," she was lightly tapping his face, his head lulled to the side. "Open your eyes," she said to him gently, her heart sinking with each passing second. "Wake up, I need you here with me."

She had trouble keeping her eyes open. The room was spinning. She felt so weak. All she could hear was their voice, as if they were far away, telling her not to fall asleep.

They had this awful marking on their skin. It crawled across their shoulders and peeked out from underneath their shirt at the sleeves and neck. She thought it looked like it was getting worse every day, slowly blossoming across their skin. "It's not as bad as it looks," they said, trying to make her feel better. The raspiness of their voice and pale complexion did not fill her with hope.

"Your heart is pounding," she said, pressing a hand to his chest. His skin was feverish, warmth radiating off of him. Yet, he shivered as if he were freezing. "Only because I get nervous around you," he responds, a flirty tilt to his voice. They both knew that wasn't the only reason, but she smiled anyway.

"Will you eat something? For me?" They shook their head miserably. "I can't."

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

#writing prompts #dialogue prompt #creative writing #otp prompts #writeblr #ask box prompts #hurt/comfort prompts #angst prompts #poison #prompt list #poisoned prompts #whump prompts

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sinukiyo · 2 months

Text

I’m sorry but this scene…THIS SCENE…

“Matthias cast an uneasy glance at the guards’ backs, visible through the doorway. “Ignore them,” she said. “Why haven’t you kissed me, Matthias?”

“This isn’t the time—”

“Is it because of what I am? Is it because you still fear me?”

“No.”

She paused, and he could see her struggling with what she wanted to say. “Is it because of the way I behaved on the ship? The way I acted the other night … when I tried to get you to give me the rest of the parem?”

“How can you think that?”

“You’re always calling me shameless. I guess … I guess I’m ashamed.” She shuddered. “It’s like wearing a coat that doesn’t fit.”

“Nina, I gave you my oath.”

“But—”

“Your enemies are my enemies, and I will stand with you against any foe—including this accursed drug.”

She shook her head as if he was speaking nonsense. “I don’t want you to be with me because of an oath, or because you think you need to protect me, or because you think you owe me some stupid blood debt.”

“Nina—” he started, then stopped. “Nina, I am with you because you let me be with you. There is no greater honor than to stand by your side.”

“Honor, duty. I get it.”

Her temper he could bear, but her disappointment was unacceptable. Matthias knew only the language of war. He did not have the words for this. “Meeting you was a disaster.”

She raised a brow. “Thank you.”

Djel, he was terrible at this. He stumbled on, trying to make her understand. “But I am grateful every day for that disaster. I needed a cataclysm to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.”

“I,” she said, planting a hand on her hip, “am a delicate flower.”

“You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.”

“And what would you prefer?” she said, eyes blazing, the slightest quaver to her voice. “A proper Fjerdan girl who wears high collars and dunks herself in cold water whenever she has the urge to do something exciting?”

“That isn’t what I meant!”

She sidled closer to him. Again, his eyes strayed to the guards. Their backs were turned, but Matthias knew they must be listening, no matter what language he and Nina were speaking. “What are you so afraid of?” she challenged. “Don’t look at them, Matthias. Look at me.”

He looked. It was a struggle not to look. He loved seeing her in Fjerdan clothes, the little woolly vest, the full sweep of her skirts. Her green eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, her lips slightly parted. It was too easy to imagine himself kneeling like a penitent before her, letting his hands slide up the white curves of her calves, pushing those skirts higher, past her knees to the warm skin of her thighs. And the worst part was that he knew how good she would feel. Every cell in his body remembered the press of her naked body that first night in the whaling camp. “I … There is no one I want more; there is nothing I want more than to be overwhelmed by you.”

“But you don’t want to kiss me?”

“He inhaled slowly, trying to bring order to his thoughts. This was all wrong.

“In Fjerda—” he began.

“We’re not in Fjerda.”

He needed to make her understand. “In Fjerda,” he persisted, “I would have asked your parents for permission to walk out with you.”

“I haven’t seen my parents since I was a child.”

“We would have been chaperoned. I would have dined with your family at least three times before we were ever left alone together.”

“We’re alone together now, Matthias.”

“I would have brought you gifts.”

Nina tipped her head to one side. “Go on.”

“Winter roses if I could afford them, a silver comb for your hair.”

“I don’t need those things.”

“Apple cakes with sweet cream.”

“I thought drüskelle didn’t eat sweets.”

“They’d all be for you,” he said.

“You have my attention.”

“Our first kiss would be in a sunlit wood or under a starry sky after a village dance, not in a tomb or some dank basement with guards at the door.”

“Let me get this straight,” Nina said. “You haven’t kissed me because the setting isn’t suitably romantic?”

“This isn’t about romance. A proper kiss, a proper courtship. There’s a way these things should be done.”

“For proper thieves?” The corners of her beautiful mouth curled and for a moment he was afraid she would laugh at him, but she simply shook her head and drew even nearer. Her body was the barest breath from his now. The need to close that scrap of distance was maddening.

“The first day you showed up at my house for this proper courtship, I would have cornered you in the pantry,” she said. “But please, tell me more about Fjerdan girls.”

“They speak quietly. They don’t engage in flirtations with every single man they meet.”

“I flirt with the women too.”

“I think you’d flirt with a date palm if it would pay you any attention.”

“If I flirted with a plant, you can bet it would stand up and take notice. Are you jealous?”

“All the time.”

“I’m glad. What are you looking at, Matthias?” The low thrum of her voice vibrated straight through him.

He kept his eyes on the ceiling, whispering softly. “Nothing.”

“Matthias, are you praying?”

“Possibly.”

“For restraint?” she said sweetly.

“You really are a witch.”

“I’m not proper, Matthias.”

“I am aware of this.” Miserably, keenly, hungrily aware.

“And I’m sorry to inform you, but you’re not proper either.”

His gaze dropped to her now. “I—”

“How many rules have you broken since you met me? How many laws? They won’t be the last. Nothing about us will ever be proper,” she said. She tilted her face up to his. So close now it was as if they were already touching. “Not the way we met. Not the life we lead. And not the way we kiss.”

“She went up on tiptoe, and that easily, her mouth was against his. It was barely a kiss—just a quick, startling press of her lips.

Before she could even think of moving away, he had hold of her. He knew he was probably doing everything wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry, because she was in his arms, her lips were parting, her hands were twining around his neck, and sweet Djel, her tongue was in his mouth. No wonder Fjerdans were so cautious about courtship. If Matthias could be kissing Nina, feeling her nip at his lip with her clever teeth, feel her body fitted against his own, hear her release that little sigh in the back of her throat, why would he ever bother doing anything else? Why would anyone?”

#i’m going feral #i’m going to cry #soc nina #soc matthias #six of crows matthias #matthias helvar #helnik #my ships #nina zenik #six of crows #crooked kingdom #six of crows nina

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doki-doki-imagines · 7 days

Note

hello! I am the person who requested that reader with a cat who likes the boys a lot if u remember that request.

may I request (if ur not uncomfortable with it) some period comfort with an afab!reader (they/them pls) just taking care and helping reader with their period? if it's not too much can u also include reader sleeping a lot and craving lots of food (typical ik) and how reader just gets mad rlly easily.

characters: bi-han, syzoth, shang tsung, kenshi, raiden and liu kang

thank u and have a good day :) (smiling through the pain)

author note: I'm super late, but I suppose it's better than never. Hope you'll like these! Link to the cat post

Kenshi Takahashi: -He…He can smell when you are on your period. -Actually Kenshi can even tell when it is coming so he is always ready with food when it finally comes. -He tries to keep your pelvis warm and treat you softly since your body gets sore way more easily. -Kenshi goes a bit insane when you're ovulating, so now he is more calm and soft. -He'll try to make your mean comments slide, but it is hard for him, so it's better not to exaggerate, or Kenshi will snap back.

Raiden: -Really sweet and understand your needs. -But Raiden won't be a sticky boyfriend. He has work to do and won't take a day off. -When he finally understands how this period works for you, he will be prepared for the next one. -Your fave food? Check. Warm beverages? Check. Cover and 3 different kinds of movies to match your current mood? Check. -When Raiden gets home tho he is all for you. He likes to put you in his arms and draw circles on your hand, waiting for you to fall asleep on his chest. -Mean words are nothing to him. A king of taking the hit and making it slide off him.

Liu Kang: -"You bastard! Couldn't you erase menstruation while creating this world?" You whine into his arms, cramps making you curl in his body.

"Would you rather lay eggs, dear one?" Liu Kang replies, with a smile on his face, forefinger lifting your chin up to make you look into his brilliant eyes.

"You are just a meanie." You snap back, pushing his face away from yours, making a laughter blossom in his throat. -He tries not to make you eat too much junk food, but he'll back off when you look at him with fury in your eyes. -His body is better than any cover.

Bi-Han: -I'm sorry, but he would be pretty cold. -He was raised in a way that even if you were dying, you should take care of yourself without the help of anybody, so at max, he'll send your way a doctor. -Bi-Han has to work A LOT on being a normal human. He really doesn't know how to work around normal feelings that are outside his field of work. -And the future grandmaster lessons he has been given as a kid never focused on helping his partner out. It is already much that he decided who to be with. -Bi-Han probably knows very little about how menstruation works, mostly because they taught him not to care about other people and just think about how to be the perfect Lin Kuei's leader. -First work on making him act as a decent human, then Bi-Han will even make you a special tea to make your cramps less painful. -And if you look particularly pitiful he may snuck junk food too…

Syzoth: -The first time he saw you losing blood, he panicked because "Why are you losing blood?!?!" -After you explain how things work, Syzoth will let out a breath of relief. -Surprisingly, he understands pretty well that losing blood is a pain, so he doesn't mind following your order like a butler. -Syzoth is gonna snuggle under the covers with you, btw. -Not used to you being mean tho, even if he understands you aren't fine, he still takes those words personally.

Shang Tsung: -Actually, he'd make a potion to make your cramps fade. -But he doesn't do anything for nothing…are you ready to try his next experiments? Maybe the potion isn't as safe as he says. -Shang Tsung satisfies your cravings, but don't nag too much, or he'll get annoyed. -Also, don't be mean, or he will snap back, then you'll start to cry, and actually Shang Tsung has a weakness: your tears. Then he'll have to try to make you stop, but sadly, another mean word slips…it's an endless cycle that makes him think just "Hope this will end soon."

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akazzzaa · 5 months

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concept: if all the demons, lower & upper moon and muzan were able to cook, what would they make & bring for thanksgiving, if they celebrated with their s/o?

Sorry for being late! I'm unfamiliar with Thanksgiving day so I tried to do some research to make it accurate, Not a lot of American style food will be included cause they are from japan, but they try

A/N- I'm no chef, I had to look for a lot of recipes that would be 'demonic' and thanksgiving too ?

Characters- Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Tamayo, Emnu

Summary- What they would cook for you on Thanksgiving

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None really just a mention on blood once

Muzan

Muzan knows languages and understands a lot of cultures from around the world. He is interested in how different counties have such different taste in food. All human food is gross to him but he is the only demon who can actually eat human food without throwing up. He only eats human food to blend in. A very good cook otherwise.

I think Muzan would likely choose a high-quality turkey and he might incorporate a deep red cranberry sauce that reflects his demonic side while still being suitable for a Thanksgiving table. Carrots glazed with a blood orange reduction could be a visually striking and flavourful side dish. For dessert, a dark chocolate pecan pie could be Muzan's choice for you, combining sweetness with a hint of darkness. For a drink, Muzan would craft a special cocktail with dark fruits, red wine, and a touch of something more sinister. blood

Kokushibo

Given that Kokushibo lived during the Taisho era in Japan, he might appreciate traditional Japanese cuisine. If he were to celebrate Thanksgiving with his significant other, he might choose to prepare a special Japanese meal with a touch of elegance. He knows nothing about American cuisine and doesn't care to learn about it. He's the one cooking. You are the one eating. If you don't like it, make it yourself. He didn't cook a lot as a human but he knows his way around a kitchen.

He would cook sushi rolls with fresh fish, vegetables, and perhaps some unique ingredients to showcase his culinary skills. Light and crispy tempura made with seasonal vegetables and shrimp, served with a flavourful dipping sauce. A delicate Chawanmushi (Steamed Egg Custard)with ingredients like chicken, shrimp, and ginkgo nuts, steamed to perfection. Skewers of grilled chicken, perhaps with a teriyaki glaze, showcasing a balance of sweet and savoury flavours. For desert, a unique dessert that combines the rich flavours of matcha green tea with the creamy goodness of cheesecake.

Douma

Douma is an amazing cook, just under Muzan, he has chefs that cook for the followers but he has cooked many dishes for people during his lifetime. He's unfamiliar with American food but he will try for you.

Douma might appreciate a unique twist on the traditional Thanksgiving turkey. The glaze could be made with blood orange juice, honey, and spices, giving it a rich and flavourful coating with Truffle Mashed Potatoes. Then Douma may choose a red wine reduction sauce to enhance the flavour of the meal and tie the meal together. Douma is better at baking but doesn't think humans should eat to much sweets. But today is a one off for you both, he would create a visually striking dessert, perhaps with dark chocolate and exotic fruits.

Akaza

Not a bad cook, has never cooked until he met you and he's gotten better at it. He respects you and your culture so he will want to cook a Japanese-American dish for you.

Akaza could marinate the turkey in a special teriyaki sauce infused with cherry blossom flavours, giving it a unique and sophisticated twist. Instead of traditional sweet potato dishes, Akaza might opt for sweet potatoes glazed with a miso-based sauce, adding a savoury and umami-rich element to the dish. Fresh green beans cooked to perfection and tossed with a sesame dressing, providing a crunchy and nutty complement to the meal. For dessert, Akaza might choose to make a matcha-flavored tiramisu, combining the traditional Italian dessert with a Japanese green tea twist. To accompany the meal, Akaza might select a high-quality sake, demonstrating his refined taste and appreciation for Japanese beverages.

Tamayo

Given her background and the fact that she is knowledgeable about herbs and medicines, she might prepare a unique and exotic dish that incorporates flavors inspired by her extensive knowledge. Perhaps she would create a dish with rare herbs and spices, combining them in a way that showcases her expertise.

Tamayo might infuse traditional Thanksgiving turkey with a Japanese twist by using a miso glaze. Miso adds a rich, savoury flavour that complements the turkey. A stuffing made with Japanese mushrooms like shiitake and maitake, along with chestnuts, could be a flavourful side dish reflecting Tamayo's expertise with herbs and ingredients. A selection of pickled vegetables, such as daikon radish and carrots, could serve as a refreshing palate cleanser between bites of the richer dishes. For dessert, a matcha-flavored treat like matcha cheesecake or matcha-flavored mochi could be a delight to the Thanksgiving feast. She has modified her body to drink human tea, so she will watch you eat all the food she cooked but the only thing you two can enjoy together is a cup of tea. And she makes a good cup of tea.

Enmu

Will give you food poisoning. Do not eat his food

#demon slayer #kny #kny x reader #douma x reader #akaza x reader #kokushibo x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #douma #akaza #tamayo #tamayo x reader #kny enmu #enmu x reader #enmu

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