#━━ he's not quite what he appears to be「visage」

[saintobio]

daddy’s little devils.

when dealing with not only one, but two mini versions of your husband is a type of chaos you never saw coming. but with him by your side, there’s nothing else in life you could’ve ever wished for.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader genre. domestic fluff, slice of life, explicit smut cw. dilf!sukuna, profanity, explicit smut, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, fellatio, spitting, unprotected, creampie, 18+ notes. 4.5k. just bcos i had to write dilf!sukuna version of this fic. enjoy >:D i was smiling throughout writing this! reblogs are highly appreciated!

Sukuna as a husband was unexpectedly romantic. Despite his cold and indifferent demeanor towards others, sometimes bordering on snarky and arrogant, he displayed a surprisingly soft side when it came to you. A really, really soft and incredibly clingy side, one where he always wants you by his side and becomes grumpy the moment you leave him alone for even a few minutes, claiming and whining about how you no longer love him. That was a hidden facet of his personality that no one else knew, a side that made him appear submissive to his wife rather than the other way around. 

But to be honest, you loved that about him. You absolutely, with all your heart and soul, adored that about him. 

However, Sukuna as a father was quite the mischief-maker. And having to deal with three versions of him in your life certainly didn’t make things any easier. 

“Ryomen Sukuna… your sons,” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with exhaustion as you burst through the front door, “are a menace.”

Your husband was lounging on the sofa when you came home, an iPad in hand, watching as you kicked off your shoes and juggled with your bag and the twins’ belongings.

“Hey, baby,” he regarded you with a bemused expression. “What did they do this time?”

You didn’t even know where to begin. In all honesty, the question should have been: what did they not do?

“Ugh! My head hurts.” As soon as you released the bags onto the floor, you sank onto the couch, frustration evident in your visage as you ran a hand through your hair. “Raiden stabbed a classmate in the back with a crayon,” you recounted in disbelief, “And Ryuji drew your ‘tattoos’ all over himself with the teacher’s marker.”

Right on cue, the two little devils—his twin boys, his exact carbon copies—barreled into the house like the troublemakers they were.  

“Papaaa!” the twins chorused, leaping into their father’s lap the moment they saw him. 

Sukuna’s smirk blossomed into a grin, clearly amused and somewhat proud of his mini-me’s. “Aww, look at my little tattoo artist!” He applauded with amusement as he carried one twin on his lap. “That’s awesome, Ryuji!” Then, he turned to Raiden, who awaited his praise as well. “And Raiden, Mama said you stabbed someone? I bet your classmate was being a jerk, huh? Good job!”

The twins and their father bonded over the mischief, with Sukuna ridiculously acting as an instigator rather than reprimanding them. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse. Was he actually entertained with this whole ordeal?  Jesus. You shot Sukuna a glare, finding the situation far from amusing. And as soon as he caught sight of your serious expression, his face softened into an apologetic stance, silently mouthing the word, ‘sorry’.

“Ryo, stop monkeying around,” you stated firmly, crossing your arms. “They’re causing trouble, and you do realize I had to endure a lecture about their unacceptable behavior, right?”

Only when he noticed the genuine concern in your voice did he shift his tone slightly, though you could see a hint of playfulness remaining. With your husband clearing his throat and adjusting in his seat, it seemed like he was merely putting on a show of being a ‘strict dad’ in front of you, while secretly shooting winks at his sons as if to say he was just playing around.

“Alright, alright,” he began putting on an act, addressing his twins, “You two are grounded. Go to your rooms. Now.”

Instead of showing any fear, the twins giggled as they dashed out of the living room without a care in the world—their tiny footsteps echoing all over the house as they ran recklessly. They didn’t even listen when you shouted at them to be careful. And now you couldn’t help but cross your arms, clearly dissatisfied with how your husband handled the situation in jest.

“Baby, come on,” he coaxed, drawing you closer and enveloping you in his strong embrace. You could feel his chin resting on your shoulder as he placed a kiss on your cheek. “I understand your frustration. They’re naughty when they want to be. But you have to admit, they’re showing some… initiative.”

Raising an eyebrow, you watched as he struggled to suppress a laugh at his own words. “Initiative? They’re supposed to be learning how to share and play nice, not how to terrorize their classmates!”

“Right, right. Of course,” he murmured, attempting to ease the tension with a gentle massage on your shoulders. “I understand. I’ll have a talk with them, mommy. Let’s not get angry now.”

The dilemma here was your desire to maintain the facade of a strict mom, to avoid the embarrassment of picking up your kids from daycare for causing yet another trouble. You loathed the judgmental stares from other parents, the silent accusation that you and your husband weren’t disciplining your children properly. It was as if they viewed you as terrible parents. Like you didn’t raise your kids right. 

At first, their opinions didn’t bother you; after all, they knew nothing about your family beyond the PTA meetings you’ve had to attend. But time and time again, after having to offer countless apologies to the parents of your sons’ classmates and the teachers who had to deal with them, their scrutiny was starting to get into your head—that perhaps you weren’t as strict as you thought. Perhaps you were too lenient. Perhaps you needed to assert your authority over your children so they’d learn to listen to you.

Yet, despite your resolve, you couldn’t resist the charm of your twins. They were just too adorable for their own good. And, well, their dad wasn’t exactly lacking in the charm department either.

With a sigh, you leaned against his chest. “I just want them to grow up to be good, not little terrors.”

Sukuna tenderly lifted your chin, planting a soft, affectionate kiss on your lips. “I promise, they’ll turn out great. Let’s not be too hard on them.”

~~

You had to acknowledge Sukuna’s efforts and give credit where it’s due. After he had promised to ‘talk’ to the kids, you did notice a marked improvement in their behavior since then. You and your husband used to take turns picking up the twins from daycare, but recently, he had insisted on doing it more frequently than you, saying that as his latest project had been completed, he now had more available time to pick up the twins after work.

You suspected the real reason behind his request was to alleviate your stress from constantly dealing with your sons’ antics. Knowing him, Sukuna also wanted to gauge the current atmosphere at the school by having conversations with the teachers and other parents to ensure there were no issues like bullying or other serious matters. 

With that solution in place, Raiden and Ryuji became much less of a handful, and the main reason being the reward system that Sukuna had implemented for the kids, where he promised to buy them expensive toys if they earned stars for good behavior each week.

So that was how it went for the next two weeks. No calls from distressed teachers, no calls from concerned parents. In fact, the twins eagerly showed you their progress and proudly displayed the stars on their hands each time they received them. You couldn’t help but swell with pride at their accomplishments, because as small as they were to some people, they were huge achievements for you and your husband as their supportive parents. 

At least, you could relax for now. With the twins having toned down their mischievous shenanigans, your mind was more at ease. To be fair, they might seem like little devils wherever they went, but when they were peacefully sleeping like they were now on the couch, they appeared as absolute angels in your eyes. 

The living room was bathed in a dim light, with the glow of the TV screen illuminating their cute, little faces as they snuggled up together on the couch, in their peaceful slumber sandwiched between you and your husband. They had dozed off before the movie ended, and now, with the credits rolling, your family movie night concluded earlier than expected.

“My precious babies,” you cooed in a hushed voice, gently stroking Ryuji’s cheek and planting a kiss on Raiden’s nose. Their eyes, their brows, their nose, their lips—every detail was taken from their father, and nothing from you. But you didn’t mind, because you knew just how strikingly handsome they would be when they grow up. “Looks like our little troublemakers couldn’t make it to the end of the movie.” 

Sukuna chuckled softly and glanced down at his sleeping sons with a fond smile. In holding his family close, he could feel that blissful warmth flooding his heart at the sigh of his wife and his kids snuggled together. “They’re tired today. Didn’t even last an hour into watching Megamind.” 

You smiled, carefully rising from the couch so as not to disturb the sleeping twins. The moment you caught your husband’s eye, you gestured for him to lift Raiden into his arms. “Let’s get them to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, scooping up Raiden, while you lifted Ryuji, and together you carried your kids to their room. 

After tucking each twin into bed and giving them a final kiss on the forehead, you motioned for your husband to quietly exit the room with you. He was still adjusting the AC for their comfort before following you out close behind. The lights in their room now completely switched off. 

“They’re out like a light,” Sukuna whispered as both of you made your way towards the master bedroom. 

You stifled a yawn, stretching your arms. “Finally, some peace and quiet.” 

“Nuh-uh,” countered your husband, who was now grinning mischievously as he stopped in his tracks and grabbed you by the waist. “Not so soon, wife.” 

Before you knew it, you were pressed against the wall, a mere few inches outside your bedroom’s door, caged between your husband’s toned arms as he looked down at you like a lion looking at its prey. His animalistic gaze never failed to send you into an orbit of weakness, like always. “H-Hey.” 

A teasing smirk then appeared on his handsome face. “You know, babe, now that the boys are asleep, we could really make good use of this time.” 

“Really, now?” You held back a chuckle, cheeks heating up from the wanton desire on your husband’s eyes. As you crossed your arms and leaned against the wall, you didn’t realize that such action only caused him to go even crazier than he already was. 

“Dammit.” His eyes danced in lust as he stared at your cleavage when you crossed your arms. He had good self-control, too. That was… until he couldn’t resist it anymore. He had to have his hand squeeze one breast gently, fondling the rounded mass like they were his personal stress balls. “Are you ovulating, honey? They look huge.” 

You weren’t sure as it had been while since you tracked it, but your breasts did feel heavier lately. And sore, too, because he was kneading them. “Hmm. I might be expecting my period soon.” 

Very playfully, Sukuna leaned forward to trail kisses along your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin as he spoke, “What do you say we add another one to the bunch?” was his whispered suggestion, “A little girl, maybe? I know a few positions.” 

“Are you serious?” You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. “With these two little devils wreaking havoc, you still want to add more chaos to the mix?” 

His finger was already looping around the strap of your nightgown, pulling it down with a salacious upward curve of his lips. “You know you love the chaos, babe.” You could feel his hands moving to grab a handful of your buttocks, squeezing your bum eagerly. “Plus, imagine all the mischief our little girl could get up to.” 

You couldn’t help it either—the desire, the tension. Not to mention, your husband was looking undeniably hot right now, with the muscles on his chest pressing against yours, making you want nothing but to see him shirtless again. Those toned abs, those muscular arms. God. His lips were also soft and sweet when he pulled you into an open-mouthed kiss 

“You are,” you mumbled in between kisses, breathing heavily against his mouth, “very naughty, mister.” 

You felt him smirking through your kiss before he grabbed your thighs, and lifted you up so you could wrap them around his waist. The kissing, the very intense kissing, with his tongue rolling against yours and you moaning against his mouth, was already as erotic as it could get. When was the last time you two had sex? Last week? You couldn’t remember which specific day it was, but you did recall it being only a quick one in the shower. This time, it definitely wouldn’t be a quickie as he seemed to have plans in giving you a sleepless night. 

Sukuna carefully placed you down in your king-sized bed, pulling his shirt off and once again crawling above you to hungrily meet your lips with his. And did you mention he was a good multitasker?  As he nibbled on your lower lip, breathing you in like you were an addicting drug he couldn’t get enough off, his fingers were also rubbing your clothed entrance, pulling your underwear to the side to touch your moist cunt. 

“Mhmm—!”

Two fingers entered you without warning, and he pulled away from the kiss to look at the face you were making as he used his digits to find your sweet spot. “You’re so fuckin’ hot, Y/N.” 

You arched your back, spreading your legs wide open to give him full access to your core. The moment he was able to reach your g-spot, you could feel your lower abdomen coiling from the intense wave of pleasure that was coursing through your body. “Nghh—yes, daddy. That’s it!” 

A few more pumps, hard and fast, had you gasping for air like a fish out of the ocean. He seemed to have loved the sight too, as he kept his dark, sultry eyes fixed on you while he fingered you like there was no tomorrow. “You’re one hot mama, aren’t you?” he asked, withdrawing his fingers and sucking on them to taste your slick. “Can I fuck your mouth, baby?”

“‘Mmkay,” you answered, pulling yourself up to help him rid himself of his pajamas. The sight of his bulge—his big, angry bulge—made you all the more excited. You had seen him many times before and knew just how huge his member could grow when aroused, but it still didn’t change the fact that seeing his fully erect cock surprised you every single time. Because it was thick, it was long, it was meaty, it was veiny. “Gosh, lovey. You’re huge.” 

He obviously liked hearing that. Not only did you inflate his ego, it also made him desire you even more as he positioned his shaft on your face, pulling your hair into a ponytail. “Open your mouth.” 

Like a good girl, you did as told. And your eyes went wide as he forced his cock inside, thrusting balls deep in and out of your mouth. He was doing it roughly to the point where your eyes pooled with tears because your gag reflex kept on fighting back. You couldn’t even taste him properly because your saliva was coating his entire length, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling in satisfaction as you watched your husband throw his head back from the utmost pleasure of being inside your mouth. 

“Ah, fuck. Fuck.” He cussed multiple times, jostling his hips before pulling his member out. “Your mouth’s so warm.” 

For a moment, you replaced your mouth with your hand, an elbow propped on the other as you stroked his girthy length. You jacked him off at the pace you knew he preferred, and placed your tongue flat on the swollen pink head like it was a lollipop. You were kissing the tip with your eyes staring back at him, ultimately driving him into insanity. “Like that, daddy?” 

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, his vulgar thoughts now consuming his actions as he grabbed your chin up, only to then spit in your mouth. “I’m gonna get you pregnant tonight,” he declared in a deep, raspy voice, “Gonna fill up that pretty little pussy with my cum.” 

Damn, he’s serious about it? 

As embarrassing as it may sound, you could feel your pussy clenching from his lewd words. “You want a baby girl for real?” 

Your husband lowered himself down to meet your level, undressing you impatiently like a rabid dog who was ready to bite its victim. And in your naked glory, he then spread your legs apart and rubbed his shaft in between your labia. “I do,” he said, puppy eyes hoping for you to say yes, “I want a baby girl, please. Please. Please.” 

Could you even resist this man? 

You gave him an answer by nodding, holding your smile by biting your lower lip as you watched your silly husband reach through the nightstand in search of the lube. Because he was too crazed with excitement, a couple packs of unused condoms fell out of the drawer as he grabbed the strawberry-colored tube. 

“Take it easy. Jeez,” you teased. 

“You’re driving me nuts here.” 

You decided to tease him even more by touching yourself, your fingers doing circular motions on your clit as your husband coated his entire length with the water-based lube. The smell of artificial strawberry permeated through the air, and with it being your favorite scent, you felt more stimulated than ever. “Mmm. I want you inside me now, lovey.” 

“What mommy wants, mommy gets,” he joked, manhandling both your legs into placing it above his shoulders and putting you into his favorite position. The classic missionary. “Ah, shit.” He buried his member agonizingly slow. “Why… are… you so damn tight tonight?” 

Maybe because you were clenching around his cock, squeezing his angry member with your velvet walls and giving him that extra good grip he always went absolutely wild for. “A-Aah! Y-You love it.” 

“Fuck, yeah.” He began thrusting now. Using his thumb to spread your slit apart, he delighted in seeing his cock go in and out of your entrance, watching the full length be swallowed by your cavern entirely. And he was going from slow and sensual, to rough and fast in less than a minute. 

He was just far too deep inside. Now, you were losing hold on your sanity as with every jostle of your body, your insides were also reacting more and more violently with your knees and thighs shaking. The skin slapping sounds were bouncing across the room, and you were hoping, praying, that your soundproof walls worked well enough not to wake your innocent twins. Because at this rate, you were going to squirt all over their father. It had been sometime since you felt the need to pee during intercourse, but that also speaks of just how intense Sukuna was plowing his hardened cock inside of you. 

“D-Daddy, I… I’m…” 

He attached his mouth on your right tit, playing his tongue around the nipple. “Mhm… You’re so sexy, mommy.” 

Two little boys. And your husband still won’t stop until he gets his little girl. 

Your mind was a whirlwind that night. The events that followed became such a blur because your pleasure overpowered your ability to think straight. All you could remember was Sukuna releasing his warm load into your womb after chasing his climax, and immediately after, he had your body twisted around and positioned into what he refers ‘the undefeated’ doggy style. 

Gosh, he was telling the truth when he said he was going to fuck you all night with no breaks in between. 

Because now, you were on all fours, being pounded from behind as you had your hands gripping the sheets each time he propelled his body forward. He was shoving his cock from behind like it was his day job, already familiar with the perfect angle and depth in which he had to rut you in. With his hands holding your hips in place, he raised one leg on the mattress, and the other knee still intact, to fuck you senseless. 

“Mmm—Aah! Haah!” 

The deeper he penetrated you, the lower your upper body went. You were now in a position with your chest down low, and your ass up high so that he could see your hole in a much, much better view. “You think you can take ‘nother round after this, babe?” he asked, breathless as he reached forward to squeeze your tit. “I don’t wanna push your limits.” 

“I-I don’t t-think I c-can…”

You could hear his deep chuckle despite your frenzied state, and soon enough, he was increasing the speed of his thrusts once more, cursing and moaning while doing so, before shooting thick ropes of seed inside your cunt. 

He collapsed next to you right after that, while you were completely limp in labored breaths as you lay beside him. The feeling of his semen dripping out of your pussy had you reaching for your husband’s arm, pointing towards the box of tissue with your half-lidded eyes. You were too sore to move. 

Sukuna immediately got the cue. “I got it,” he said, pecking your lips before doing the task of wiping the mess on your body. And as soon as he was able to clean you off, he quickly went back beside you, pulling you into a sweet, husbandly embrace. “Good night, beautiful.” 

You hummed in your drowsy state, his chest becoming the perfect pillow for your head to sleep on. “Night, night, handsome.” 

~~

Good lord was his body sore. 

But was that the greatest fucking sex he has ever had? Hell yes. It was so good that he even dreamed of it. 

As the morning sun streamed through the curtains, the aftermath of your passionate night was evident in the tousled sheets and sleepy smiles that you both had that morning. He still had you in his arms, your body secured around his as he pressed his lips into your temple. 

“Good morning, my love.” 

You stirred awake, blinking sleepily as you stretched beneath the warmth of the covers. He could tell you were still groggy from last night’s events, and he was a hundred percent certain that you were also too sore to walk. “Morning, lovey.” 

But before he could savor the domestic moment with you, the bedroom door burst open, and a fully awakened Raiden and Ryuji came in with their energy back at 100%. Oh, boy. Sukuna just had to forget locking the door last night. 

Raiden, in his polka pjs, was jumping up and down excitedly. “Mama! Papa! Wake up!” 

He was joined by his twin brother, Ryuji, who was in his striped pajamas, skipping around the room. “We want pancakes, pwease!” 

Sukuna could feel you stiffening next to him, and he saw the look of panic in your eyes upon realizing that you were very much naked under the sheets. So, hastily and frantically, your beloved husband pulled the duvet, covering your chest from being exposed and hoping to conceal any tell-tale marks. 

“Shh! Keep it down, boys,” he reprimanded the twins, “Mama and Papa are still sleeping.”

The stubborn Ryuji placed his hands on his hips. “But you’re awake, Papa!” 

On the other hand, Raiden, who climbed the king-sized bed, was pointing towards his mother. “Mama, what’s on your shoulder?” 

At the sight of the marks, Sukuna’s eyes widened in alarm and his cheeks were limned with a crimson hue. His mind raced for a plausible explanation because those exact bruises on your shoulder were, in fact, hickeys. So before you could speak, he took it upon himself to handle the matter. “That... It’s, uh, a battle wound.” He mentally kicked himself for such a ridiculous lie. “Mama’s very brave, you see. She fought off a giant mosquito last night.”

You stifled a laugh, burying your face into the pillow for a moment, and later deciding to play along. “That’s right,” you agreed, nodding seriously. “Mama’s a warrior.”

Raiden and Ryuji, however, were too smart for this as the twins exchanged skeptical glances, clearly not buying their parents' explanation. And with Raiden being the more vocal one, he pointed it out first. “But why does it look like a bunch of tiny kisses?”

Sukuna struggled now, and while he was still thinking of another excuse, you finally stepped in to try and save the day. 

And thank the heavens, you handled it a lot more casually than he did. “It’s a secret,” you said, smiling at your kids, “Mama and Papa have a secret game they play sometimes. Right, Papa?”

Your husband quickly joined in on your little antic. “That’s right, it’s a secret game! But it’s only for grown-ups,” he clarified to the curious twins, who were clearly intrigued by this mysterious ‘game’. “You two aren’t old enough to play yet.”

The twins exchanged curious glances, their skepticism giving way to fascination. “Okay,” Raiden said slowly, still pondering the explanation. Ryuji just shrugged, accepting it more readily. 

Only then did Sukuna breathe a silent sigh of relief as he was grateful for your quick thinking. But with children like these two, the interrogation was clearly far from over because Ryuji decided to make things even more complicated when he picked up an unused packet of condom on the floor, its bright red color attracting his interest. “Mama, is this candy?” asked your son, pointing to the strawberry logo, “Can I have it?” 

“No, sweetheart, that’s not candy,” you softly spoke. The composure in your voice was outstanding. Sukuna should definitely learn a thing or two from you. “Give it to Mama.” 

And while you dealt with the other twin, Raiden jumped out of bed and tugged at his father’s arm persistently. “Papa, pancakes!” he demanded, throwing a tantrum as he chanted. “Pancakes! Pancakes! We want pancakes!” 

“Okay, okay!” The father sighed inwardly, shooting you a look for help as if he was their slave for the day. All you could do was chuckle and mouth ‘you got this’ back to him. Well, he didn’t have much of a choice, did he? “Coming right up, you little monsters.” 

“Yayy!” 

“Woohoo!” 

You, barely handling the noise at six in the morning, groaned playfully next to your husband. “See? Having another kid isn’t as easy as you think,” you told him, “We can barely handle these two.” 

Sukuna displayed a grin, running a hand through his hair as he looked at his wife and your little ones. “Boys, do you want a baby sister? Yes or yes?” 

Raiden and Ryuji, in unison, answered giddily. “Yes! We want a baby sister!” 

A look of defeat clouded your eyes, while your husband laughed and kissed your forehead. “You heard them, love,” he reminded, softly, “I want my baby girl soon.” 

He knew that, despite your playful protest, having a daughter was a shared desire. “Fine.” 

So in swift movements, your husband slipped into his pants beneath the covers, then got out of bed to scoop up the twins in his arms. “Alright, breakfast time you two!” he announced, heading towards the door with his sons cheering together. And just before leaving, he cast one last tender smile in your direction. 

“I love you, Y/N. Chaos and all.” 

[yuelun]

Tag drop #2: Character things and dynamics (more will be added).

[the-crooked-library]

Nuance, Narratives, and Nosferatu

As of today, Robert Eggers' Nosferatu (2024) has only been in theatres for 4 full days; and, coincidentally, that is about as long as I am able to let my thoughts marinate before they demand to be communicated. Before going into any further detail, let it be known that this film was made by freaks for freaks; it exists for the goths, the gays, the monsterfuckers, the historians, and for all those who delight in moral and thematic complexity.

With that being said - spoilers under the cut!

There are two principal narratives running through the flesh of Nosferatu, both of them rooted heavily in the cultural and literary origins of the story. It is a nightmare; it is also an erotic fantasy. It is horrifying, and it is also achingly romantic. From what I've seen so far, the vast majority of discourse that has already emerged around the film is caused by people misunderstanding or deliberately ignoring the relationship between these different lines of analysis; so please trust me when I say, from the bottom of my heart, that this duality is the very lifeblood of the movie.

The reason for that is, quite simply, that Nosferatu is a gothic horror film, set in 1830s German Confederation; and its plot relies on the same (sometimes contradictory) complexities often displayed in Victorian gothic fiction.

From the beginning of the movie, we are given to understand that Ellen Hutter met Count Orlok - the eponymous nosferatu - psychically, when she was very young. They spoke, she pledged herself to him, and was horrified to realize what she had done when he revealed his true visage to her in their first visual (and sexual) encounter.

Here, under the lilacs, the paths diverge.

The first reading of the film is perhaps the more straightforward. A young girl is essentially catfished and groomed by a much older, dangerous man. When they meet for the first time, she is a teenager; the lilacs that bloom where it happens become a trigger. He is the source of her madness and "melancholy" (depression), she has nightmares about him regularly enough that her husband is aware of them, and it is implied that she has been institutionalized in the past. Thomas Hutter is the physical representation of her one desperate hope for a normal life - but as the story progresses, she finds herself being denied even that. Orlok's psychic connection with her verges on demonic possession; in chilling, The Exorcist-inspired sequences, she writhes and mutters, prophesying a city-wide reign of death and terror. In pursuit of his claim on Ellen, Orlok terrorizes her husband, murders her friends - and, eventually, she gives her life to take him with her to the grave, saving the city from the plague he caused.

That is the horror element of Nosferatu; it deals with an exploration of childhood trauma, of PTSD, of difficulties maintaining a social life after the fact. It is easy to understand even from a modern viewpoint, and it pushes the film to its conclusion with a bleak, heart-wrenching punch.

The horror is not the only element of Nosferatu.

To contextualize the alternate - though just as correct - reading of the film, it is essential to understand that Ellen’s society was extremely sexually repressed, especially in regards to female and queer sexuality.

Both were severely medicalized, demonized, and restricted; and as such, when these topics do make an appearance in contemporary fiction, they are often inextricable from disgust and fear.

Dedicated as always to historical accuracy, Eggers maintains the same setting-based narrative coding.

In anticipation of morality arguments vis à vis monstrosity, depiction, and modern purity culture, let me clarify: this is something that works within his chosen genre. Horror, and especially gothic horror, invites a deeper analysis in regard to morality and motivation, and in this case, Eggers' homage to the origins of that genre grounds the narrative in its time and location, as well as fleshing it out much further than a purely modern cultural lens would permit. In this context, the details of Ellen's connection with Orlok become paramount to the understanding of the film.

As bits and pieces of their background become revealed, the audience realizes that her psychic gift did not begin with him - and neither did her melancholy, or her isolation. She was born with her abilities, and throughout her childhood, she was a bit of a tomboy by her contemporary standards, running wild in the woods near her father's property; however, once she foretold her mother's death, and once she was too old to get away with eccentricities, her father became frightened of her abnormality. She was isolated, confined indoors, and that is when her melancholy had begun. Painfully lonely and aching for some form of companionship, she called out into the ether; and Orlok responded.

Over the course of their story, he becomes the physical manifestation of everything Ellen perceives as dark and sinful about herself.

He is psychic, he is vicious, possessive, and blatantly sexual; her sensual affection with Anna parallels the evident and physical attraction he displays towards Thomas; and the social power he so easily commands is the same that she lacks, being a woman in a rigidly patriarchal society.

In the end, the severely questionable age gap, the murders, the coercion, the betrayal - all of that comes down to respect. Throughout the film, that is the one thing that Ellen is consistently denied. She is young when she meets Orlok, yes; but she is aggressively infantilized by her surrounding society even when she is a grown, adult, married woman.

It starts from the beginning of the film, when the Hutters visit the Harding family. During those scenes, the men are shown talking business - while the women play with children in the parlour; and the same social framing persists into the body of the film. When Ellen is suffering from what appears to be some form of mental illness, she is referred to as a child by multiple different characters; and when the condition progresses, she is swiftly diagnosed with hysteria and drugged - thus being forcibly removed from the discussion of her own illness. The general reactions to that illness - which is, in fact, a display of her psychic abilities - range from annoyance to fear to curiosity; it is seen either as a disability or a curse, rather than anything entirely innate to who she is. Her fears are dismissed. Harding tells her to learn some deference. Even closer to the finale, when Von Franz admits that she could have been a great priestess in another age, he does so with pity rather than anything else; in their industrial era, he cannot help but see her only as a tragic sacrifice - horrible, but necessary to save the city from a plague. Brought in to heal her, he instead guides her to her death.

All these aspects of Ellen's circumstances find a direct opposite in her relationship with Orlok. Unlike all other characters in the film, he only ever sees her as his equal, which is made even more evident when his interactions with Thomas and Herr Knock are brought into consideration. With both men, Orlok insists on being addressed by his lordly title, "as his blood demands it"; and yet, Ellen never calls him by any title at all, be it "My Lord" or even a simple "Herr." She argues with him freely, and there is a familiarity between them that he is demonstrated to never tolerate from anyone else. Similarly, while he disguises the covenant he makes with Thomas, the terms of his covenant with Ellen are laid out clearly, in full. He does not hide from her; she already knows the worst of him, the same way he knows that she is intelligent, that she is powerful, and that she is not meant to be demure and deferring. Again and again, Orlok insists that Ellen is not meant for humanity - and the true horror, the horror she cannot bring herself to face, is that he is right.

In a sense, he is a mirror held up in front of her own face. Ellen is painfully aware that she does not fit in, and that she never has. The "normal" society, epitomized by the Hardings (wealthy husband, pretty blonde wife, 2.5 kids), has no place for her - and actively dislikes her.

The film makes this ostracism impossible for the viewer to ignore. As the story progresses, it becomes evident that the other human characters - even those that do sincerely care for Ellen - never truly know her. Anna loves her, but wishes she would not talk of dreadful things - and lashes out as a result of that discomfort, scolding her. Sievers finds himself bewildered by her; Knock sees her as an object to trade; Von Franz pities her, Harding hates her, and Thomas cannot truly satisfy her, even after being touched by the supernatural himself.

Seeing a flash of a monstrous face while they are together, he flings her away. To him, his experience with Orlok is merely traumatic, and he wishes for nothing more than to leave it behind. However, to her, it is something she cannot help but crave; and she continues to wear her lilac perfume.*

All that to say - Count Orlok is, simultaneously, everything Ellen wants and everything she is terrified of being.

That specific dichotomy reaches its climax during their mutual finale. As it is to be expected from a vampire wedding night, they rejoin in a sequence of sex, blood, and renewed vows - and what is particularly notable is that (unlike Murnau) Eggers makes it clear that this Orlok never intended to kill his Ellen, despite his inability to resist her blood. Though he drinks from her through the night, he stops at cock-crow; and she guides his head back down herself, distracting him long enough for the sun to rise. It is a duet of accident and intention. He drains her; and she holds him as the sun drains him. They cling together as they end - on a bed that serves their wedding and their death.

It is romantic. it is unquestionably romantic. However, that does not mean that the horror isn't also present; Ellen's consent, under these circumstances, is highly debatable, and Orlok is cruel, amoral, and murderously possessive. At the same time, the characters are also acting out folkloric archetypes, with precious little adjustment to that framework - which further removes them from a modern understanding of morality. He is Death, a Koschei the Deathless, a monster; she is the Maiden, a Vasilisa, a damsel. I hesitate to liken them to the Beauty and the Beast, largely because in the original premise of that story, the Beauty falls in love with the kindness that the Beast consistently displays; and it is essential to stress that Orlok has none. He does care for Ellen, in his own way, but he admits to being incapable of love as she defines it in human terms;** and, curiously, that seems to be her primary concern when it comes to the idea of accepting his proposal - rather than all the blood and carnage.

What I'm trying to say, I suppose, is that there are multiple ways of following a story, and multiple different stories in a film as nuanced as Nosferatu. Yes, it is about grooming and trauma. Yes, it is about finding love outside of the cage that is "polite society." I'm sure that it is many other things besides, with as many meanings as there are people in the theatres; after all, I am only one person, and the film grossed something over $40M in its first three days. The point is, really, that this is a story in which a rotting vampire is woken from centuries of deathlike slumber by a lonely voice asking him to be her friend; and whatever these two strange and aching souls do with that can go down any myriad of paths. The film trusts the viewer to interpret the narrative they choose.

* LILAC PERFUME - in fact, it is such a consistent favourite of Ellen's that Orlok smells it on her hair in the locket she sends with Thomas to the castle. Thomas never really learns the reason she likes that scent - even though he knows that preference well enough that he gifts her lilacs in the beginning of the film.

** ORLOK'S OBSESSION - this is a side note, but: the vampire wedding sequence reminds me strongly of the third season of NBC's Hannibal. I suppose that was to be expected, considering that Hannibal is also a Dracula offshoot, much like Orlok himself. When Ellen snaps at Orlok that he cannot love, he responds that "no; but only with you, I can be truly sated." Similarly - "Is Hannibal in love with me?" asks Will; and Bedelia responds - "Could he feel a daily stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you?" I'd say if you liked that series, you should try and see the film. It works with a familiar blend of aesthetic horror.

[moonsaver]

wheover that anon was that spoke up about mr reca I LOVE U WE SHOULD KISS

ALSO YESSS IRIS FAM MEMBER! READER WHOS AN ACTRESS/ACTOR!!! just imagine being THE mr. reca’s favorite thespian he’s ever worked with oh my gosh im drooling rn 😍🥰😋🔥😜

Yes anon!! Very real of the other anon. And of you.

This is yandere, so tw

Iris!Reader who's an actress/actor would smash. Imagine despite your humble beginnings and barely being able to keep your family afloat you make it. Although perhaps our beloved actor/actress doesn't quite fit the beauty standard, or they haven't made their debut in a popular film, or maybe they just aren't what most movies are focused on right now, considering the disparity between an actor's range and the genres they might partake in.

Here comes Mr. Reca, swooping you from who knows where, plopping you down into a makeup chair and reading the script to you at 50 words/sec speed. You have no idea where you are or what's going on before you're pushed onto the movie set, completely winded before Mr. Reca throws his hands up all "oh alright! Since you can't get the hang of this yet, I'll lend you a hand" or whatever excuse he loves to pull out of his ass. He personally guides you with the movie scripts, drags you along to any parties he may have to attend, forces you "into the filming sphere" or whatever by "exposure". You could be sleeping and he'd blast into your personal residence at 4 in the morning, and drag you along. He probably even forces you to sit down and listen to all his ideas and brainstorming sessions.

The more time you spend with him, the more sense he eventually makes. It's strange, and you almost end up questioning if you might be going insane. But you brush it off, because you realise he's been caring to you. Unlike most directors, he does care for his cast. He does provide a hospitable atmosphere to work with, which makes you realise just why your co-stars are so eager to please him. Mr. Reca, although insane and hard to decipher, makes you almost gravitate towards him when his eccentricities are laid bare before you.

Every time your short contract ends, he's already got the next one printed out and ready for you to sign. You appear so often beside him, it's unusual for you not to. Often, you make headlines with Mr. Reca backing you up. It's all in the palm of his hands when he gets you to stardom.

Oh, but isn't it a bit too much?

Nosy paparazzi that continually stalk and harass you, fans or even those that despise you call you or your family, people surrounding your home just to get a glimpse of your daily life, drivers who follow your car everywhere.. it's a bit too much for your pretty little head to handle. Mr. Reca is all too familiar with these pests. Why don't you stand closer and let him deal with them? Nevermind the fact he paid them, or that he's been rather eager to practice method acting with you.

Speaking of, he's replaced all your co-stars whenever it comes to suggestive or intimate scenes, considering himself as their stand-in since, well.. You're more comfortable with him, aren't you? You've been under his wing for so long, it's easier for you to do these uncomfortable scenes with him, instead of those no good actors.

You're not sure when it happens, but you notice the amount of cast dwindling until it's you and him, all alone. The movies are beautiful, but it's hard to hide the shivering by just pure acting skills when you realise no one has you in their grasp as much as Mr. Reca. His eager, insane eyes watching you like a rabid animal hidden behind a camera when you act all alone on a solitary set. This is the last time he allows the privilege of your visage on the lens, before you mysteriously go missing. You are meant for only the lens of his observant eyes, he states, as though confessing a haunting realisation.

Oh well, you can continue acting. Just remember your audience. It's only him you have to consider pleasing.

[sunnyshinesunshine]

Instead of Elrond looking like some vague Finwëan-Sindar combo

Elrond looks a little different to everyone that sees him

His face doesn’t change. He is still very much Elrond Peredhel, but his features will always remind whoever sees him of some form of a regret.

He supposes it is a combination of being a healer and the descendent of Maia but he tries not to dwell too hard on it.

(It is very uncomfortable to be the image of the deepest wounds of another’s heart)

Nonetheless, it is difficult to heal one’s own soul without facing the reasons for its damage.

Elros Tar-Minyatur was the only one to ever look at Elrond and see only Elrond.

If this was because his blood matched Elrond’s, or because Elrond was Elros’ deepest regret, Elrond doesn’t particularly want to know

Maedhros, utterly predictably, saw Fingon, and in doing so, found both comfort and misery.

Occasionally he would see in Elrond the ghosts of all his brothers, and he would again face the knowledge that he was not able to save them from their doom and the dark void.

Maglor sees Maedhros, and feels regret, not for the violence or the death, but for days in far off Valinor, under the light of the Trees. Days of running off with friends, to sing, to compose, to preform for adoring fans, to do anything but stay at home and help Maitimo take care of their small army of younger siblings.

(Maybe then the title of eldest brother would weigh less heavy on Mae’s shoulders. Maybe then the responsibility of care for them all would not have driven him so far, and to such a bitter end.)

If Glorfindel is to be asked, he’d tell you Elrond appears to him as the spitting image of Turgon

If you are Erestor, you know Glorfindel mostly sees Maeglin, Maeglin young and quiet, Maeglin older and scared, but sometimes also Aredhel, defiant and ready to disappear into the woods without a sound

Elwing once looked upon her son and saw naught but the visage of her little brothers

Galadriel sees Finrod, as does Celebrimbor, for very different reasons, but mostly because they share the same kind of kindness, and there is little that marks a person better than that

In quieter moments Galadriel will glimpse what her husband sees, Lúthien, as she was after Beren died, solemn, trapped, and entombed in misery.

During Bilbo’s final years, he can’t quite remember what he first thought upon looking on Elrond’s face (he’s sure it’s written down somewhere) but in those last days, he sometimes sees Frodo, wary and so very afraid. But mostly Elrond resembles Thorin and that is something Bilbo shall never set to paper

(Someday, in a time far beyond the counting of years, Fëanor will find himself staring at the face of his grandchild and seeing the eyes of Míriel Þerindë above the features Indis and will have a very small, very quiet meltdown.

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part VI

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

Simon Riley is, like any other man who has been in the military for long enough and seen the horrors of war, a man who struggles. Struggles with feelings, actions, words, nightmares. The constant reminder that his career—the very same thing that made him grow a pair and go from a scared little boy to a proper lad—was what ultimately cut his family’s life short, weighed heavy on his shoulders, holding him down like Atlas holding the sky. 

Despite how much he tried to hide his own feelings from both you and himself, that icy gaze that seemed to be focused on nothing for hours and the lingering silence, along with the tired smiles he forced himself to give you no matter how awful his nightmares were the night before made it clear things were only getting worse.

Whatever was out there was oftentimes merciful enough to give him good dreams every once in a while, his psyche drowned in a sea of what the future could have been. A future with his family, a future with you. No matter how difficult things got in the black, buzzing mess that was his head, he saw his daughter and you like a beacon, a Star of Bethlehem during those dark, cold nights. 

The sound of stirring bed sheets is what originally wakes you up, the smell of tobacco and gunpowder that always linger on Simon’s body overwhelms your senses the longer you’re awake, slowly coming back to your senses. A groan, and more shifting from your left. 

“Simon.” Your voice is soft and even, hands feeling around the bed sheets until you find his shaking body. In the past, Simon used to sleep on the couch, refusing to go back to his apartment just so he could spend more time with you and your daughter, yet after Johnny’s death, the pain and trauma was always clear in his eyes, ending up with you offering to let him sleep in the same bed. 

Simon’s body feels extremely warm, a thin layer of sweat covering his burly frame, seeping through his clothes and into your fingers as you shake him harder, the room dimly lit with the bright moonlight peering from the window. You can see his features scrunching up, his hands balled into fists, the veins in his neck and forehead becoming more prominent as he relives what is likely yet another traumatic moment in his life. 

“Simon.” You repeat with more urgency this time, your body shifting closer to his in order to shake him firmly, watching as his eyes flew open, dilated pupils looking around the room before meeting your gaze, a mask of deception quickly taking over his visage as you see him force himself to appear more relaxed despite the fast-drumming of his pulse you can still feel beneath your fingers, his chest rising and falling, nostrils flaring as he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Did I wake you up?” Despite how awful his nightmares were, Simon’s priority was always you. His kindness isn’t just fake sympathy, it’s the real thing. 

“No, I was reading something.” A little white lie that at the very least eased his concerns. Your hand squeezes the tense mass of muscle on his shoulder with such gentleness that he wasn’t used to, not after a year of being alone after breaking up with you. 

The corners of his lips tug up into a tight-lipped, tired smile, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly, trying to hold it together for your sake. His eyes examine yours for any hints of disgust, any hints that you may have seen just how disgusting he could be during those nightmares, his mind still fragmented thanks to Roba’s torture, never seeming to heal no matter how many years go by. 

Your fingers work overtime on trying to ease the knots formed on his muscles from the strain it takes to hold it together when you’re looking at him with so much trust and concern, not an ounce of disgust in you despite how ashamed he feels. His eyes momentarily drift away from you, focusing on the baby monitor, the tiny screen displaying your sleeping daughter, the living image of innocence, serving as a soothing balm for his broken soul. 

“Bad dream?” How lucky he is, that even crushed under the weight of looming grief and enough trauma to last him several lifetimes, he has someone to care about him, to care for him. His exhausted eyes leave the baby monitor, staring up at the ceiling as he finally allows himself the chance to take in your tender touch, the genuine kindness showing through your soft massage and concern, no matter how much of a bastard he was for leaving you. 

“Yeah.” You know better than to press him about it, too familiar with him to know if he wants to talk about his issues, he will. You lean closer to him, your head now resting on his pillow and your arm draped over his stomach, your body moving on nothing but pure muscle memory from four years of dating him. 

From this short distance, you’re able to admire the man that Simon Riley truly is. His short brown hair, the thin, pale scars adorning his visage, and the wrinkles that are starting to become more prominent as he ages, war and stress making him appear older than he actually is, yet looking as handsome as ever. His rough, calloused hand goes up to hold yours, fingers intertwining with the same muscle memory your body performed. 

It has been months since Simon came back into your life, the knowledge of the fact that he now has a daughter always made him stick around, not wanting to miss a single moment from the tiny bundle of joy that seems to adore him, a brave little girl who was as spunky as her mother, and as stubborn as her father. 

“‘Bout Roba, again.” He finally admits after seconds of silence. Manuel Roba, a name you’re unfortunately familiar with. The same man who tortured Simon and his mates for months on end, allowing him to escape and to feel a sense of false security, giving him the chance to have a proper family for once with his father out of the picture, just to rip everything that held him together from his hands. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His head shakes, signaling a no. The pads of your fingers run over his bruised knuckles in a calming fashion, tracing tiny, random patterns before his free arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest now that he’s laying on his side. There’s hesitation in his actions, yet his soul is filled with relief the moment you let go of his hand, just to circle his waist with one of your arms. 

“‘M sorry.” He’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for. There’s way too many things he needs to atone for, and he will be as patient as they come. 

“I’m sorry for leavin’. I was scared, didn’t want to mess you up.” He knows his absence did the opposite, and the idea of you giving birth without him present always shattered his soul. If only he had known about your pregnancy, he wouldn’t have broken up with you, never would have left. 

His chapped lips plant a comforting kiss on your forehead, his warm hands running up and down your back, looking to soothe you as he can hear your breath hitch, salty tears already rimming your eyes. Your face is buried against his chest, lightly feeling his fast-beating heart as he holds you even closer, his eyes fluttering shut at finally having you in his arms again. 

“I missed you.” The shakiness in your voice breaks his heart even further, his soul being ripped apart by his own selfish, awful decisions. 

“I missed you too, sweet girl.” He manages to whisper out despite the way he’s getting choked up, his arms circling your form even more when your shoulders begin to shake. Warm, salty tears bleed through his clothes as he holds you as close as possible, squeezing your frame even tighter before he’s back to rubbing your back up and down, looking into spreading the warmth emanating from his large frame. 

“So fuckin’ much.” Another gentle kiss is planted on your forehead, holding you for as long as you need— for as long as he needs, too. You both lose track of time, simply caressing and giving each other much needed comfort, bringing you back to the ways you comforted each other back when you were dating after an awful day, all the crying and warmth coming from his body eventually exhausting you, idly playing with the fabric of his black shirt. 

“Can I…” There’s clear doubt in his words, and despite the fact that his exhaustion matches yours, there’s one last thing he wants to do. You lift your head, brown eyes meeting your gaze. You could drown in those eyes— in the way they always seem so loving and kind, so gentle despite how brutal you know he can be as a soldier… and yet that’s Ghost, not Simon, you remind yourself. 

His hand comes up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, ultimately pushing himself to cup your cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing your soft, warm skin, still moistened by tears. You get the message almost instantly, yet admiring Simon when he looks so unsure of himself steals your attention for once. 

A small nod of affirmation meets his words, and Simon doesn’t waste any time, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours for a few seconds before his lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss, the hand on your cheek caressing your skin gently, his eyes fluttering shut.

[PREVIOUS]

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[eldritch-spouse]

Woah hey, you just ran into a fey-

Say hello to Mooncalf !

Do not give him your name.

This not-so-little trickster has been in a deep sleep for a looong long while. It's unclear what got him to stir, perhaps the abnormal phenomena Earth is going through all of a sudden, but now that Mooncalf is wide awake, he has a lot of playtime to catch up on.

Monsters of his kind are some of the most dangerous you could ever find. Short of siadar themselves, these entities often hold far too much power for their immature attitudes. They love games and they hate to lose, to come out unscathed is to have impressive wit. Thankfully, they're quite rare.

Aligning himself with no one's values or goals, Mooncalf lives for the thrill of self-amusement. For deceit, games, music, comedy- His desires as simple and gentle as they can be dark and sadistic. The real consistency of fey like him lies in their worship of the lunar cycles, from which they claim their power is drawn from.

To catch his attention is to reveal yourself particularly unique, or simply stand out at the wrong time in the wrong place. Either way, you're assured a joyride in a pocket space that'll leave you more than a little rattled. Even if you never allow this fey to have ownership over you the proper way, Mooncalf is possessive and adamant that only he may interfere with your life's trajectory, a persistence predator more than anything else. His love for you translates into constant attempts to make your surroundings interesting and exciting, but oftentimes only result in giving you mild to severe anxiety.

Although fey are fond of disguises, many of them will have "go-to" forms, so while you see Mooncalf's bird-legged, hunched visage often, he may appear to you in other ways.

A consequence of staying asleep for as long as he has is that his magic has yet to shake off a certain inertia, which keeps his glamors static and prevent him from shifting back to his natural state. For this reason, Mooncalf avoids taking on his conventionally attractive humanoid disguise. It grows quite irritating to stay in it for prolonged periods of time, causing him to become aimlessly violent.

A non-threatening, rounded form exists to aid him in drained or unsafe states, with the intent of appealing to any perceived predator's emotions and evoking merciful urges. This form is also excellent to preserve energy as a whole. Although presumably weakened when in this state, it wouldn't be a bright idea to just punt Mooncalf against the nearest wall.

When Mooncalf is entering a rut, he will "hunt" a possible partner by using the humanoid disguise and attempting to trick someone into stepping inside a pocket space.

Well. Good luck with bird legs.

[king-craftsman]

The SwapCraft Challenge

“Dude, have you heard of this Swap Craft challenge?”

In came Josh, sweaty and tired, probably just from the late shift again Bradley could imagine. They’ve been roommates for six months and if it wasn’t for the fact that the two had a great interest in Swap Craft, Bradley could barely even imagine that they’d get along at all, it was the only thing they talked about! Bradley got up from the couch.

“No, what is it?” He asked.

“It’s like this challenge where we link our accounts on SwapCraft and then get to change something physical and something mental about each other in turns. Whoever quits first loses,” explained Josh as he continued in, excitedly showing Bradley his own phone where he could see the big bold letters themselves, “Swap Craft Challenge” written in white. A prompt asked if he was willing to ‘Enter’.

“Really?” questioned Bradley, this seemed way too good to be true.

“Yeah, like you can do all sorts of stuff, but there’s no winner. Dude, we should try it!” suggested Josh, Bradley shrugged. Fuck it, there wasn’t any other way he was going to spend the night. After only a few short moments the both of them found themselves in a two-person “lobby” for Swap Craft, with Josh just itching to push play. “Okay but one rule, no mental changes or stuff, okay? I don’t want you fucking around with my head.”

“Man, I’m not dumb enough to do something like that. Plus I bet you I can win without even needing to,” claimed Brad.

“Oh yeah? You’re on,” replied Josh as he pushed play and suddenly saw that it was his turn as he began to focus on his cracked phone. “Now what to do…what to do…” He suddenly looked Bradley over, he hated to admit it but the dude had gained some weight and packed on some pounds these last few months. It wasn’t like it was bad or anything, but it would be fun to see his funny twig of a roommate again that he saw when he first moved in - and that’s exactly what he was going to do. “Ha! Have fun!”

“Wha-” Brad stopped as he glanced down to suddenly see some of the bulges from his stomach pressing into his shirt suddenly rescinded. He hated he had gained weight and wanted to even go to the gym to lose it naturally, but it was no bother, his stomach sank and became flat like it had been only a few months ago. He laughed. “Nice! Okay my turn then.”

Bradley paused, this was a lot harder, he only really had one picture of Josh and he had taken that weeks ago when his phone had broken for the third or fourth time. But what Brad could go for was to see Josh grow taller, the guy was practically a midget being a small 5’9 when Brad himself was at least 6’3, some height was what he needed and if Josh was going to help him grow skinny then Bradley could help Josh grow taller.

Suddenly Josh saw the smirk appear over Brad’s visage and stopped when he felt his own legs churn as they began to spread out, whatever fat he had was pulled against him as he suddenly realised his own torso was also stretching out. He almost felt like he was being pulled from both sides, but not in a painful way as the small 5’8 man became a suddenly gargantuan 6’5 and a hell of a lot thinner because of it. Bradley was in hysterics.

“Oh come on, that’s not funny!” snapped Josh.

“Yeah right, hey if you don’t like it, you should quit,” teased Bradley. Josh rolled his eyes.

“Not fucking likely,” he muttered under his breath as he was just glad it was his turn now, feeling so stupid with his clothes obviously being far too short for him and glad nothing else grew. Though speaking of growth…Brad did say they couldn’t do any mental changes, but transformations never last forever and if he was going to stay skinny, why not give him a bit of a boost? Josh did some tinkering of his own as he looked up, sneering at Bradley.”Hey Brad, do you have that ten dollars you owe me?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s right here,” grunted Bradley as he began reaching towards his wallet, pulling out ten dollars which he threw to Josh and Josh could see it clear as day, a gym membership card, tucked away behind his debit card. It worked and now for the best part.

Bradley shifted as he scratched at his own chest, starting to feel a tingling spread across them as he looked down to see his chest beginning to grow, divulging into pecs that pressed against his shirt, only making it tighter as his whole torso clearly began to bulk up. His entire chest was that of a well trained bodybuilder, completely separate from the rest of his skinny body.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh well I made you skinny, only fair I make you fitter too,” chuckled Josh as he got his ten dollars, scraping it up from the floor. He ignored Bradley’s glare. “Your turn.”

“Okay fine if that’s how you want to be,” Bradley smiled as he scratched at his pecs before an idea came into mind. His smile grew wider as he went on to Josh’s profile page and began typing away. “How are you doing Joe?”

“Joe? What the-” Josh’s eyes became a stark brown in complete contrast to his once blue eyes as he blinked. “I’m doing good, it’d be better if you just quit now then.” He chuckled, yeah Joe, he didn’t know why he was confused by that, it was his name after all, Joe.

“Your turn.”

Joe wanted to have more fun, he quickly began to observe Bradley’s profile and meddled away.

“So how was work today?” asked Joe. Bradley rolled his eyes. Work was boring and he didn’t know why Josh or “Joe” was starting to ask about it now, working in a grocery sto- He blinked. He meant the gym wasn’t all that great.

“It was fine, a couple of new guys joined the gym and I showed them around,” answered Brad as his own shirt was almost becoming a literal tank top with the way that the sleeves were starting to tear from his own bludgeoning biceps that were once skinny arms but had now grown into great muscular appendages for a great beast of a bodybuilder like himself. “Aw fuck this, I’m not letting you ruin my clothes too.” Brad quickly took off his shirt, revealing his sexy abs.

“Well, it’s your turn now, Brad,” chuckled Joe. Bradley was impressed, “Joe”, still didn’t know what hit him or what was about to as work was on his mind - and why not have “Joe” fit his name correctly, instead of working at the movie theatre, he could work somewhere else.

“How was the club tonight, Joe?”

Joe got a flashback of himself suddenly ripping off his own shirt like Brad here as he remembered all the money and guys that were fawning at him over at the strip club he started working at only two months ago. Fuck, it felt good to be able to do that and show off his body. But for now he simply shrugged, didn’t want Brad to distract him, even when he suddenly started to see that his own skin was starting to grow tanned from his head to his toes.

“Okay, well I think you’re- Wait…” Joe blinked. “Why are you asking me about work?” Brad shrugged.

“You asked me,” he replied.

“Yeah but I only asked you because-” Joe suddenly blinked again as he paused and glared at Bradley. “Are you cheating?” Bradley furrowed his brows.

“No!” He said.

“I can tell when you’re lying,” growled Joe. “You know what, I fucking knew it, that’s it.”

“What are you doing?” exclaimed Bradley as he saw Joe rapidly typing and swore his heart had never beat faster at that moment (except after a tough workout).

“Winning this thing,” declared Joe as he pushed down on his phone and Bradley watched as his own feet pushed through his socks, the toes colliding with the fabric all at once before bursting a hole through them all and ruining the socks that became tattered and now barely able to adorn his large and musky feet.

But that didn’t worry Brad enough as much as the idea that any mental changes would come about - but he felt nothing for a time, and then he suddenly felt everything at once as his eyes slammed shut and sparks almost appeared when his own cock was suddenly so large that it was able to poke through his underwear.

“Woah, what the hell?” cried Brad as his hand automatically grabbed at his dick, trying to stop the flow of pre-cum that stained his legs. “Oh my god, what the hell are you doing? Don’t you have to give your intelligence to raise someone’s libido?”

Joe nodded.

“Yep, but it’s worth it, way smarter than you anyway,” grunted Joe as Brad narrowed his eyes. Two could play at this game. “Your turn.”

“My turn…Alright I’ll show you what I’ll do on my turn…” Brad muttered as he bitterly typed away, wondering what to alter, what to change when he smirked. Not only in the next few moments did Joe begin to implode with muscularity (seemingly Josh either missed the fact that you could just alter the muscle mass in the whole body for a little bit more of your intellect if you wanted to).

But suddenly Joe’s own cock was throbbing member as all his clothing was completely gone, ripped away by both his bulge and his great muscularity as he was starting to look more like the real deal himself with every passing turn. “Have fun. Your turn.”

Joe was feeling a different kind of way, he was sure that just a bit more couldn’t hurt as he laid there in the tatters of his own clothes, resisting the urge to bounce his pecs or dance to the music that had filled the room this entire time and the beat which only grew louder in Joe’s mind as he recalled the strip club.

“Fucking…Alright I’ll do this…” muttered Joe as he enjoyed the feeling of watching Brad realise his own cock had also grown far too large for his underwear, almost instantly having to be taken off just in time for Brad to see the cock grow so much more larger as it snaked by, inch by inch.

All while the rest of his own clothing was completely gone shredded by his own well, shredded abs and giant muscular thighs that continued to grow, almost doubling in size to the point where they easily increased his waist size. “Fuck…Not feeling so good.”

“What’s the matter? Gonna quit?” laughed Brad as he looked down at his own phone. Fuck, he wasn’t feeling all that great either as he wanted to see Joe cum for him but a part of him also wanted to still at least be a bit smarter than him.

Fuck it.

He hastily increased Joe’s libido and began changing his face by adding a new profile picture for him. Joe’s own face started to shift from what was once the recognisable thin visage of “Josh” to now portraying the sexy Joe Manganiello with the nose growing larger, the brows thicker, the hair slightly shaggier and the jaw becoming ever more sharper.

“Not yet,” panted Joe as he groaned and looked down. Fuck, he could barely hold it in. He hastily typed away something about Brad, starting to see him as the perfect man to mould and make as he changed his hometown to Dallas, watching the name automatically change to “Travis” now instead of Bradley whilst his own face changed.

The head grew so much more bigger to accommodate the size of his new large body and thick neck with vocal chords that helped showcase some of that southern twang whilst his lips grew thinner and spread across his face. Travis’ hairline shifted back slightly as he grew older with age, only accentuating his facial features like a fine wine and a brown beard appearing over his chiselled chin.

Joe looked down at him.

“Wanna quit now?” asked Joe.

“Aw fuck dude, I think I-” Travis couldn’t even finish what he was saying as he heard Joe moan, not himself before suddenly watching the great muscular beast cum all over himself and his phone.

Travs was barely able to keep his phone out of range as just watching that dark cock almost explode in ecstasy was enough to cause him to give in and cum over his muscular body, looking down and panting in pure pleasure as he saw his seed stain his abs. “Aw god.” Travis reached for some nearby paper towels to clean himself off and handed Joe some spare clean ones.

“Oh man I think I fucked up my phone,” muttered Joe as he saw the “Swap Craft” screen flicker before turning off at once, drowning in darkness knowing it was never going resurface.

“Aw shit, can we not quit?” asked Travis. Joe shrugged.

“Doesn’t look like it, but you can still use your phone right?” questioned Joe. Travis looked down, confused. He could see some other options, one of which he think said ‘Revert’, but he could barely understand it.

“I don’t know what the other words say, but there’s a big green one that says share, if we wanna share our result?” Travis shrugged.

“Hell yeah, do that bro!” chuckled Joe and together they set their camera up, grabbing each other by the hand and tensing their biceps for the perfect picture.

Two lucky sexy fools sending their picture off into a sea of submissions of the Swap Craft Challenge, all showing similar sexy men of all kinds, some having more than two, all showing off their body, the result of the challenge. To this day, there is still no winner of the Swap Craft Challenge.

If you want to check out more stories like this, then click here to see more TF/hypno on my Patreon.

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Prompt (Should I be numbering these?)

Clark knocks on the glass of the Watchtower. It's a futile gesture in the vacuum of space, but the movement catches Phantom's eye and he drifts inside, slipping through the glass.

"Hey," he murmurs, not quite making eye contact.

"Hi," Superman says, resting his hip against the conference table. He pats it beside him and Danny floats down, criss-cross apple sauce. Clark wonders not for the first time if Danny died at 18 or if this is just the body he inhabits, not unlike Connor.

They both look out at the vast wonder of space for a moment.

"We made you uncomfortable," Superman says quietly. "I'm sorry."

Danny is quiet for a moment. He doesn't deny it.

"I thought Kon-El was your son," he says softly.

Superman blinks. When Danny blanched beyond his norm and flew from the room the group had assumed CADMUS' invasive experiments had struck too similar a chord to the GiW's actions. "Do you take issue with cloning?" he asks, feeling deeply hypocritical all things considered. That self awareness gentles his tone but Danny still shoots him a glare at the not-quite accusation.

"No," he spits out. He sags, an awareness in his own eyes. "No, of course not."

His eyes are far too telling and Superman takes a hard seat on the table beside him.

"Oh," he says. He just barely keeps the horror from his voice. He is a grown man, but Phantom lies somewhere between the ages of 4 (his first dated appearance in modern time) and thousands of years old (his first recorded appearance) and his visage is too young for Clark to ever be comfortable assuming the latter.

"Yeah," Phantom says, staring down at his lap.

"Then...why?"

"You act like you're Kon's father," Phantom says. "I never thought about it like that."

"It's complicated," Superman offers, because it's all he can say, because it is not appropriate to demand details, to potentially trigger trauma, no matter how badly he wants to punch someone. Not right now at least. And because while some part of him has healed enough to find warmth in the title, his early actions will never truly make him worthy of it. "In some ways he's more like my brother. Jon considers him an uncle. My parents...they stepped up when I did not."

"But biologically he is your child," Danny says sharply, and the sharpness is not directed at Clark. "He is of you, and she is of me." Clark's inhale is distinct but Danny continues on without acknowledgement. "And I always felt strange about it, I always felt like I treated her differently, but I never put a name to it. I let it be and I let her go." He presses a hand to his chest, to the right of where his heart would be. "But she was mine. She is mine."

"Danny," Superman says quietly. "What do you want to do?" And how can I help?

Danny looks up at the vast wonder of space, and then his eyes flick down and Superman realizes he has not been looking at his lap at all. He's been looking at Earth.

With fear. With anxiety.

With hope.

"I want to find my daughter."

[thewritetofreespeech]

Night 221: Liar’s Night

words: 1.7K rating: E pairing: Gale x Tav summary: A night for tricks & treats at the annual Blackstaff Academy Masquerade Ball. An certainly more treats than tricks that Gale had hoped for. tags: kinktober - masquerade, f!oral, public sex, fluffy smut

Ao3 - 1000 Night Series

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

Gale huffed as he adjusted his mask, trying to straighten it. It was rather itchy too. He wished he could have just used a glamour like some many of his colleagues tonight.

Liar’s Night. A festival in honor of Leira & Mask, gods of trickery, deception, and illusion.

It was often celebrated with people dressing up in costume to ‘trick’ the gods into thinking they were someone else. Though celebrated up & down the Sword Coast, in Waterdeep, the celebration was very elaborate. As home to one of the greatest magical academies, people took their effort in the illusions very serious.

None more so than the academy itself.

As a student, Gale often wondered what the professor’s masquerade ball was like. The smaller celebration for students was often quite involved, so he had to assume that the professor’s was over the top. It did not disappoint. The main ballroom had been decorated with beautiful crystals straight from the Underdark and beyond. Intricate weavings of pumpkin vines from some of the best herbologist magicians this side of the druids. Candles floated in mid-air, a common trick, but would change on their own with the tempo of the music played by an invisible orchestra. Seeing his colleagues unbutton their collars for a bit, dressed so unique & silly, was also quite impressive.

“Gale my boy, where is that enchanting wife of yours?”

“Hard to say, Elminster.” Though not on staff at the academy, a wizard of Elminster’s acclaim was welcome at any magical gathering. And Elminster would go just about anywhere with free cheese. “It’s a little hard to see with this mask.”

“Hmmm…her suggestion, I take it?” The older wizard asked. Though not really asked, as he seemed to already have his answer before Gale nodded. “I thought as much. Do not take this the wrong way, my boy, but I would not have thought a proud peacock like you would cover put his visage so willingly.”

“Did you just call me vain Elminster?”

“Not so much ‘vain’ as more….proud of your appearance. And which you should be, my boy. Enjoy your looks and your youth while you can. They will be gone from you sooner than you know.” The older man huffed a little, seeming defeated by the weight of his own years a bit, before he sipped his wine. “I will leave you to search for your mate then. Do say goodbye before you leave though.”

“We’ll find you by the buffet I take it?” Gale quipped as his old mentor departed.

Alone in the crowd for a moment, Gale continued to try and scan the room for his wife. She had said that she would met him at the party, saying it was silly for him to come all the way back from classes just to return a few hours later. Gale said he didn’t mind what man would, arriving at a party with a beautiful woman on his arm but she insisted.

“Excuse me kind sir,” he turned around at the gentle tap on his shoulder, thinking it was someone looking for the loo again, and felt all the air rush out of his lungs, “could you direct me to the nearest stream?” There before him was Tav. His beautiful Tav. Dressed in what he could only assume was a water nymphs costume.

The intricate, flimsy material moving around her body like waves on the sea. The flecks of sparkle like moonlight blinking in the sea. Her mask, not nearly as cumbersome as his, just some delicate pieces of white coral by her temple with makeup over her eyes. Clearly her inspiration that of the Umberlee charges they helped while in the Gate. But where they looked ready to slay a man in divine vengeance for their Bitch Queen, Tav looked as if she would lure a man to the sea, who would willingly follow as a sacrifice to the Mother of Oceans for just one more glance at her.

“There…there are no streams here.” Gale replied. Collecting himself and turning fully towards her. “But there’s a pretty large fountain in the south corridor I could interest you in.”

Tav giggled. The sound like sea breeze through a chime. “I suppose I will have to make do. What’s a handsome man like you washing up on these shores?”

“I’m looking for someone.” Gale told her. “A missing love.”

“Missing? Oh, how horrible.” She stepped closer and placed her hand at his chest. Even with the thick cut of his jacket he could feel her pulse there. Although maybe that was his own heart. “Anything I can do, to help a poor lost sailor?”

Gale clasped her hand and, without a word, cast Dimensional Door. Suddenly, they were no longer in the thick of the party but in a secluded, unused portion of the ballroom. Gale torn off his mask and threw it to the ground somewhere in the dark before he kissed Tav feverously.

“Where did you get this dress?” He asked when he finally let her go.

“I made it.” She told him; would her wonders never cease. “I thought it would be a cute couples costume. Nymph and pirate.”

Suddenly his outfit made sense. Gale hadn’t questioned it. Interested in the party but less on what he was wearing, and trusted her judgement. “Well then, it seems I have caught myself a nymph in my net.” Gale replied. Falling back into ‘character’. “According to legend, that entitles me to three wishes for your freedom.”

Tav giggled again. “Alright. What are your wishes, handsome sailor?”

“I want to taste you.”

Gale kissed Tav again, deeper this time, before he moved down to her neck. Her skin tasted like salt. Gale wondered if she had added it to make her costume that much more authentic, or if it was just his imagination. He moved further down. Kissing the patches of skin her costume left dangerously bare as he moved the kneel in front of her. “Gale,” Tav hissed quietly, “we’re at a party!”

“You said you would grant me any three wishes.” He reminded her. Her blush an intoxicating contrast with all the blue. “This is my wish.”

With no further complaints from Tav, Gale moved the ruffles of her skirt aside. Letting them fall over him like a curtain as he reached up to spread her legs and lapped at her center. His wife moaned. Fingers gripping into his shoulders at the hem of her skirts to keep quiet. Gale used his practiced tongue to work her open. Moving one leg carefully onto his shoulder by her hand to give him more room. Taste her deeper. He was pleased to feel Tav buck her hips against him in a soft cadence. Using his mouth to gain her pleasure. His cock straining in his pants in reply.

In the quiet dark of their little corner, Tav moaned between the bite of her bottom lip as she came for him. Her sweet ocean coating his tongue before he pulled out from under her skirts. “Everything you wished for?”

“And then some.” Gale replied. Looking up at her with reverence before he stood to his feet. “For my next wish, I wish to be inside you.”

“Yes please.”

Tav wasted little time helping him unlace his pants and hike up her skirts again. Gale was pleased with her eagerness. Maybe it was the moment, or the fact that they were still at his work party, but she seemed quick to join with him; compared to their usual slow & passionate love making.

Gale held on to Tav’s legs when she wrapped them around his waist. Using the wall to brace them before he slid his cock inside. His little nymph moaned. Clinging to him as he fucked her. Thrusting in & out with ease from the wetness of her orgasm and tongue just moments ago.

“Don’t stop.” She begged him. “Feels so good. Don’t ever stop Gale.”

How Gale wished that could be true. To be joined with her always. To be one forever and feel her around his cock for eternity. Sadly though, all good things must come to an end, and the wizard grunted as his hips stopped. Coming deep inside her.

Gently, he let Tav down and allowed them to adjust themselves. Gale groaned as he straightened his back. The lower part tense from the strain and his impulse decision to lift his wife. Well worth it, but he was paying the price now.

“Shall we go back to the party for a bit, my love?”

“Yes we…Oh…Oh dear…” Tav giggled as she looked at Gale. Covering her mouth as she snickered. “Your face is covered in blue.”

Gale was surprised, although he really shouldn’t be, and touched his cheek to find blue paint at his fingertips. “Nine hells…” It was probably in his beard too. It would not do to go out looking like this; their disheveled appearance already a dead give away that they had not been taking in the pumpkin displays nor the night air.

“Think we can sneak out the back?” Tav asked.

“Now that you mention it, I just so happens I know a way to sneak out through this back hall.” A memory for his school days that was proving quite useful.

The couple snuck out through Gale’s hidden escape route and out off the campus to head back home. Once there, he took Tav in his arms again. “Sorry my impulsiveness ruined your costume. And the chance to show it off.” He apologized. “You just looked so lovely. I couldn’t help myself.”

Tav chuckled at his apology and offered him a kiss. “No need to be sorry. We’ll be better prepared for next year I suppose.” Gale smiled. Delighted at the thought of next year. And the year after that. And the year after that.

His wife wrapped his arms around his neck to stare lovingly at him. “You never told me your third wish, sailor.”

Gale grinned. He tilted her chin up, holding just before their lips touch to whisper, “Forever.” His one wish. His only wish for a very long time.

Tav leaned up to seal their lips together. Like the stamp on a contract. “Done.” She told him. “Now, handsome sailor,” Gale grunted as Tav hopped up into his arms. His lower back whining again as he held her up. “You’ve caught yourself and sullied a fine nymph this day. You’ll have to clean her up.”

“Oh yes, woe be unto he who interrupts a nymph’s bathing rituals.” He teased back. His cock already getting excited again as he carried her to their bathing suite. Eager to show his water nymph how long he could hold his breath for.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓵 𝓝°5 ~ 𝓗𝓾𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Oh, to be young and in love, in the most romantic era of the notorious 1950s, with one very magical man who never fail to make you swoon with every suave look who offers.

It isn't very often that Husker reminisces his past life - He knows, if he does, he will remember all of the good times, when his heart was gold and trembling with pure emotion - After all, if he recalls the time he was alive, and very much in love, his frozen heart will just shatter to dust once again, with the same infinite anguish he felt once everything was ripped away from his grasp.

A pain so intolerable, that runs so deep - A pain that no amount of alcohol can mend.

He never truly knows whether he wants to remain asleep forever, so that he will never have to face reality again, or if that would be a nightmare, tormenting him for the remaining abyss of eternity...

Or, perhaps he should stay awake, so that memories will stop toppling him over, beginning with a most beautiful reverie, yet always ending with the same night terror he must face every time.

If this is his way of paying for his irredeemable sins, then he is well aware he deserves it, and even more - Yet every smell reminds him of that sweet Chanel N°5 that she used to wear. Every time he closes his eyes, he dreams of the gracious dances he would share with her. Every song he hears, he recalls that angelic voice of hers, and every time he lays abed and stares up at the ceiling, her seraphic visage flashes before him.

"You are drinking again." Angel slumped in one of the stools by the bar, noticing his best friend looking in a far worse state than usual. "Rough day?"

"Rough life." Husk rasped, chugging down a whole bottle of strong spirits.

"Wanna talk about it?" he tried, in vain, to appear sympathetic - The feline demon was far too gone into his own darkness to even think about slurring away his never-ending sorrows.

"I wanna die, that's what I want." he growled, slamming away the bottle into the nearest wall. "Just like this fucking bottle. That's what I fuckin' wanna do - I wanna die, damn it!"

Angel's eyes widened greatly - Yes, life in hell surely was crazy, and especially for demons like the two of them, who sold their souls away because of their own failures, both in life, and now, in hell - But what in the world could it have caused him to get so hopeless that he was unable to fight back the tears glistening in those tortured eyes?

Even someone like him couldn't dare to make light of the situation, or try and crack a joke, let alone taunt or flirt with him. He felt... Pity, for the poor bartender who always listens to others' woes, yet dares naught speak out his own problems.

"Listen... Husk, ergh... I'm not the best at comforting, okay? But... If I can help, you can tell me... And, if not, then... I'll still be here. And maybe try to keep the others away from you. How's that?" Husk didn't quite seem to compute what his friend said, though he robotically nodded his head, as if remote controlled.

Angel remained in that stool for a few hours, watching the winged demon drink bottle after bottle after bottle, yet his sorrows only washed over him tenfold with each shattered glass against a different wall. He wonders what is going through Husk's mind, what he's ruining himself over with each sigh o grip on his fur.

Who would have thought that, of all things possible, Husker's greatest lament was...

"I fucking hate red. Why the fuck are my wings red? Of all the fucking colours in hell, they just had to be red, yeah?" he stammered angrily, pulling at his feathers. "Y'know what? They can't change colour. Tried dyeing 'em, but nothin'. Got so much fuckin' red on me - I wonder if it's Hell's way of punishin' me forever for my fucking sins."

He hates red...? What an odd statement - He truly seems to have a personal vendetta against that colour - But why? It's just a colour, after all, it can do no wrong. "Why... Do you hate red so much...? Angeldust dared to ask.

At first, he was met with a low growl, hostile, yet inoffensive at its core. Then, he heard a most disturbing answer. "That was the colour of my wife's dress when I last went home." Angel's brain shut down completely. To think someone was trusting him with such a vulnerable piece of himself, the very core of their hopelessness, their weakness; In a way, he felt flattered that Husk trusted him so much, yet in another way... He couldn't help but feel borderless pity for his friend. He wishes such a fate to no one... Well, maybe to Valentino.

Angel forced himself to smile softly, placing his hand gingerly over his own, taking away the alcohol from his hand. "What was her name?" Husk looked up with shock, a little startled, right into his dual coloured eyes - He hasn't ever spoken her name out loud, it almost felt like a blasphemy against her purity. Yet... Maybe... "Y/N." he dared whisper.

"Y/N." Angel repeated after him. "A beautiful name for a beautiful lady." Husk nodded his head.

"She was a Princess." he muttered, his sight blurry with tears.

"A Princess? Really? Nobility and all that?" much to his surprise, Husker chuckled.

"Nah, not quite." he rasped. "At heart, she was. Her family was very rich, so she was pampered up. Huge manor, servants, a personal maid, luxury brands, jewellery and perfumes, indulging in any studies and hobbies she liked..."

"How'd you two meet? I don't suppose you were a Prince or something, were you?" Angel tried to joke friendly, encouraging his friend to open up.

"Ha. Far from it." in his hand, a few dices appeared, and he idly played around with them. "I was an ugly dead beat from a working class broken family. Hardly worthy of her attention." he gritted his teeth bitterly. "Got around to finding work at a young age - Gambling, magic, sax player - If I had money to live, anything worked."

"Did you meet at one of your gigs?" Husk nodded his head affirmatively.

"No clue what she saw in me, Angel. She could do so much better." for a split second, he had a dry smirk on his face, before it disappeared again. "I asked her once, what the hell did she see in me - And she said... I played her favourite song. Silly, innit?"

He didn't receive a mocking laugh, much to his surprise - Instead, Angel cooed. He never imagined the jaded demon before him could be so romantic! "What did you play?" Instead of answering, Husk turned around to his bar, and took out another bottle, yet this time, he hummed a familiar tune as he was doing his bartending for two glasses. "Oh, now I get it - You always hum that song when no one's around! I thought you were just bored out of your mind." he let out an amused exhale. "Fly me to the moon... Refined tastes, alright."

"The stars in the sky never sparkles as brightly as those in her eyes when she looked at me." no wonder he never accepted any flirting from anyone - How could anyone match the love he had for Y/N? "If I were a decent man, I'd have told her not to waste her precious time and love on me. Instead, I was a selfish fuck. I stole years of her life... And in the end, I even stole her life. All because I wasn't even half the fucking man I pretended to be."

The conversation soon turned significantly sour. "I was the man - I was supposed to provide for her. Afford all that fucking expensive Chanel N°5, and the Dior dresses, the Chantelle lingerie, and the damn Cartier and Tiffany's jewellery." even someone more modern like Angel knew all those luxury brands, and was even more impressed and shocked that they could so easily afford such high-end items. "I brought her flowers every day and I took her out on brunches every morning, on dates every afternoon, and to soirees every fucking evening. She loved dancing at parties... But I suppose she preferred the moonlight over the chandeliers."

"You must have overworked yourself a bunch to afford all these things. I'm sure she appreciated it." Angel tried to comfort him, earning a nod of agreement.

"She told me she didn't need any gift, except for my presence. Genuine woman, that one. But how could I, in good conscience, go to her parents and ask for her hand in marriage, when I couldn't even afford a half-decent house with a room for each of her hobbies, a drawer for each month outfit, another for her shoes and three more for her bags, jewels and perfumes; and a large flower garden and a fucking rose gazebo and a swan pond with ten different breeds of pedigree dogs." Angel cringed a little, realising the tremendous gap between their living conditions. "I lost myself on the way to greatness. She was making me so euphoric that I just wanted to see her excited every moment of her life. I didn't need to eat or drink, I just needed to see her smile, and I could work again a few more days without rest."

"But then... You collapsed from overworking?" Husker shook his head.

"Worse. I fooled her parents completely, and we planned our wedding." he replied bitterly.

"How is that a bad thing? Isn't the wedding day the happiest day in a couple's life?" Husk sighed, from the deepest part of his soul.

"It was." he said. "I got greedy. I went to loan sharks, took a shit ton of money to make that wedding the most grand event the country saw in a while. Then went on a month-old honey moon around the world." he cursed in a few different languages that Angel couldn't understand, but was sure were some highly offensive and crude words that he would never utter around Y/N. "I don't need to say more, do I?"

Yeah, he needn't continue speaking the descent into madness, alright. Angeldust didn't want to hear that his friend's love story ended up in his soulmate getting murderer by the loan sharks, only for him to end up killing them, and then himself, out of pure rage and sorrow. He didn't want to hear that an innocent woman like Y/N never knew that her husband was broke and took loans, just to try and mimic the lavish lifestyle she grew up with and deserved. He didn't want to hear the broken shriek of anguish, or the streaming river of tears that befell as Husker saw her dead, on the floor, her pearly pink dress dyed a deep crimson from her own blood, and getting even more stained with each strong embrace he held around her shattered body, just like a precious porcelain doll fallen off the shelf.

They only just recently became something akin to 'best friends' from both sides... Yet Angel couldn't bare to hear the tragic end of the story, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he felt, having to live his afterlife as a Sinner, for as long as he has, without the woman he loves by his side.

"It's better this way, I guess. At least she finally got rid of me. Wherever she is, she must be living far better, than with a lying fuck like me who couldn't keep it together." the spider demon frowned, watching his friend slump on the bar counter.

"I don't think that's the case." he spoke vehemently. "I don't believe there is any person, of any kind, treasuring her as much as you did." Husk's ears perked up immediately, twitching lightly. "At least on an emotional way, I'd say, you and Y/N were lucky. There's so many people who never experience the love you had, let alone get to meet and marry their soulmate."

"What the fuck would you know?!" he growled, throwing a bottle at his head, only for the demon to dodge.

"... I wish I had fallen in love too, you know?" Husk gritted his teeth, realising the sensitive wound that he unwillingly stabbed open - But it wasn't his foult - He is hurt! He is in pain! "As a human, as a demon... I was like you, sort of. I was so shit at managing my life, that I ended up falling prey to my vices... I needed more and more, and I couldn't resist. I had no ration or logic. I gave in to my so-called 'friend group' and got addicted to drugs... Couldn't get rid of that addiction even after death... And I clinged on the only demon who could give me what I wanted... And now, I can't escape Val, even if I wanted to turn my life around and live the life that I never could." Angel had a wry smile on his face. "Do you really think a drug addict or the most famous porn star of hell would be able to meet his soulmate, without destroying their life in the process also?"

The two remained silent, only hanging their head and sighing. No matter how happy life can be for some... It will never have a chance of turning around for them. It just couldn't be. They are in hell, after all. Even Charlie won't be able to save them and bring them on the path of redemption, no matter how insanely enthusiastic and cheerful she can be... They were still sure to drown.

Somehow, this few hours of vulnerability brought Husk and Angel closer, and although they won't be speaking about it again, it was clear to the residents of the Hazbin Hotel that the two were as close as two demons can get, without the inclusion of vice or extortion.

Things were going well enough for them, even with the new addition of Sir Pentious, the villain turned... Something? It was still not too bad around the hotel. Though unsure of whatever Charlie's plan was, to fight against the purge from the Angels, they were still there to sort-of support whatever dream the Princess of the Pride Circle has.

That is, until the Hotel opened its doors to a brand new resident, a gorgeous demoness dressed elegantly in a dress of pearly pink, adorned with high quality jewellery, and with her long hair done stylishly, and smelling like a fresh day of Spring. She walked in guided by the Radio Demon, of all people, and she was smiling so demurely, completely unafraid of the fiend next to her, yet still reserved and soft.

"No way, is that Chanel N°5?! How'd you get it in here?!" Angel squealed, fangirling over the flowery perfume - But then, it clicked for him. Didn't Husker mention his wife loving this scent the most?

"Oh, you noticed! I am so happy that there are more sensible people - Erh - Demons with refined tastes!" the girl unfolded her laced fan and giggled behind it demurely.

Although she looked even more regal than even the Princess of Hell herself, as they stood next to each other, there was one particular detail that made the new-comer stand out from any other netizen.

With her hands clasped together over her chest, a bright white gold ring, with a most brilliant zircon was shining brighter than even the moon herself.

Whilst the other demons gathered around the seraphic beauty, wanting to have her attention, and even going as far as to have Alastor speak out about this new lady, Husker's breath stopped completely; His brain was going into overdrive, and his heart, he wanted to rip out of his chest.

That ring... That ring, he knew all to well - After all, he bought it himself, when he proposed to Y/N. That voice, the fashion, the mannerism... Even with altered looks, she looked the same. Even in hell, she looked the same. Even with demonic eyes, she looked the same.

She was the most beautiful woman in the universe.

"Y/N, this is Husker, our bartender." Charlie's face was split open by her overly-cheerful grin. "Husk, won't you introduce yourself to Y/N?"

"I'm not a fucking child. I don't need to introduce myself." the man hissed aggressively. "This is fucking stupid, I'm out." without even realising, he shattered the glass in his grasp, before stomping away into his room.

How could that be? Was this a nightmare? Surely, this must be some impersonator demon or something - There's no way an innocent being like Y/N could possibly have ended up in Hell, with a bunch of Sinners, of all thing. Was this his fault also? Did he bring her down with him to hell? Was he never going to be forgiven for all of the shit he's done in his previous life? Did Alastor bring her to the Hotel, so that he could blackmail him even more? Was his empty soul worth so little, in the end?

He was so afraid - Will Y/N be angry once she realises who he is? He couldn't blame her, obviously, he's earned her scorn... Yet why is his heart hurting so bad? He wishes so badly to jump on her and wrap her in his arms and wrings, and never again let her go. Ah, but he looks like a stupid flying cat... He looks ridiculous. There's no way...

...

Perhaps... She should stay with Al...

He has the influence, the money, the fashion sense, the looks, the freedom and privilege, the elegance...

Alastor has everything, and embodies everything that he could never be.

In life, he was selfish, and he didn't let go of her. Perhaps, the only way to apologise and make up for his sins was to let her be cherished by a man capable of doing what he never could.

As he lay awake on the bed, curled up and cursing his whole existence, wanting to sob until his body was all dried up and shriek until his throat was bleeding raw; he wanted to claw his face to velvety ribbons and drown his lungs with all of his blood... As he was succumbing to his self-hatred and spiraling down into the depths of despair, Y/N decided to end the day with some delicious pastries and an aromatic cup of tea in the garden, with her friend, Alastor.

Y/N was idly playing with her ring, looking at the inscription inside of it. 'Y/N ♡ Husker'. How absolutely adorable, she thought, a beautiful smile gracing her features. "He looks... Different. Are you sure it is the same person, Alastor?" her voice showed nervousness.

"Y/N, Y/N, would I lie to you?" he grinned, as always, sipping from his tea. "You should hear him purr. He truly resembles a little kitten."

Y/N looked up into he friend's eyes, a look of intense surprise and borderline intrigue taking over. "Are you being truthful? He... Purrs?" she gasped, quickly slipping her ring back on her finger.

"Yes, my darling. Unconsciously, someone strokes his fur, he gets so very adorable~." Alastor hums, watching the lady before him being so romantically melancholic over a life long gone. "What did you think about today's meeting?"

Y/N sighed, looking up into the sky. "I feel guilty for enjoying the moment I ripped Velvette apart, yet I feel no remorse for killing her. Such an uncouth and vulgar person has no right to behave with such disrespect towards me." Alastor's grin widened significantly. "And... I cannot wait for the next purge. I want to burn Heaven to cinders. Those hypocrites have grown far too arrogant for their own good, and I believe they need to be taught a harsh lesson."

"I see we are on the same wavelength as always, my dear." the demon sipped from his tea. "I am quite glad those arrogant hypocrites turned you away, for such a silly thing like - Vanity - They say. Beautiful women should be allowed to feel that-a-way, not ostracised for being such jewels for one's eyes." ever the charmer with poison dripping from his tongue. "Before I turn in for the evening, I have a gift for you - For friendship's sake." Y/N rose a suspicious eyebrow, watching as he took out a carefully folded picture from his blazer's pocket, and handing it to her. "I am going for a new fitting with Rosie tomorrow, should you wish to join us for a lovely day of self-care." the girl smiled, nodding her head at him in appreciation. "Have a pleasant evening."

Y/N muttered her pleasantries, and waited for Alastor to leave her sight, before unfolding the picture and bursting to tears. She cradled the precious memory to her heart, and sobbed for as long as her heart needed.

What have they done so wrong to deserve this? They were so happy while alive, so what went wrong? Was her opulent life, the reason for their downfall? Did her beloved think she wouldn't love him, if he couldn't match her family's wealth? Were all soulmates made to be torn apart while at their most blissful?

Still, she was grateful that she wasn't accepted into Heaven, for she would have had a most awful afterlife, as opposed to the many Overlord friends she made since she's been sent to Hell after her gruesome death, and the many favours she received from the Lords and Royals who went to Earth to retrieve items of importance for her.

Drying her tears, Y/N walked back inside the hotel, ready to turn in for the night, only to stop in her tracks as soon as she heard a soft sob, followed by a few very familiar curses in a variety of languages that she knew all too well. Her heart clenched as she stepped cautiously towards the foreign room, eavesdropping for any other sound, only to be met with more muffled cries.

Biting her lip, the demoness knocked on the door, only to be cursed harshly and told to fuck off. Y/N gulped, feeling taken aback by being talked in such a way - Though she immediately composed herself, reminding herself that he, too, is hurting, most likely far more than she is.

She excused herself before opening the door and entering. "What fucking part of 'FUCK OFF' don't you FUCKING UNDERSTA---" Husk was livid, getting in a sitting position as he growled with incredible hostility at the one who dared barge in his bedroom so rudely, only to remain speechless as he realised it was the demoness herself, standing with a sympathetic smile on her face. She also seemed to have been crying prior to this. "Oh. It is you." he cleared his throat, getting back on the bed, unable to face her.

"I have missed you dearly." her voice was so soft, so beautiful, so endearing... "I... Cannot believe that I am seeing you again. It seems to me that, no matter how far apart, our souls will forever traverse oceans of time and space, just to embrace each other once more."

She could hear him sniffling, his nails digging deep into the blanket. "You have always been so romantic and poetic." he grumbled, hiding his face in the pillow. "You shouldn't be here."

"You will have to be more specific, my love." she hummed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "Here - In Hell? Or here - In your room? Either way, I would say, I am right where I need to be."

"I don't understand." as if burning with frustration, Husk shot up, looking with self-hatred at the girl. "You did nothing wrong your entire life. You were nothing but a living sunshine. A fucking flower in human form. What the fuck did those angels not agree with, that they cast you to this shit hole?"

"There was a time when you would beat up any man who would curse in my presence." Y/N's adorable giggle made the demon's face flush red. "I am sorry that you are suffering so much, at my expense. I could never repay you for everything you have done for me, while we were alive."

"What the hell are you apologising for anyway? I got you killed, not the other way around - And even if it were that way, it'd've been a blessing in disguise, getting rid of a dead beat worthless fuck like me." he huffed, looking away. "You always were too good for me." the demon had so much to say, so many regrets to yell, so much love to spill... Alas, he remained quiet. "You seemed happy with Al. I wish I could be that, while we were alive." his voice went to soft, it was barely audible. "You should... Stay with him."

"Yes, I am happy being friends with Alastor. He was the one who introduced me to Rosie and Carmilla and Zestial, and I cherish them all dearly, as my like-minded friends." Y/N spoke calmly, reaching her hand to cup her lover's soft cheek. "He also was the one to tell me of your misdemeanours. How you succumbed to your vices; to gambling and alcohol, to the the point that you lost your soul in a deal with him. How pitiful." he was so confused as to where she was trying to get with her words, yet in spite of the anticipation for blames and reproaches, he couldn't help but lean into her warm and gentle touch. "He is the one who helped me become an Overlord, and I took your place. And it is Alastor, and some other friends of mine, who helped retrieve some objects I thought long lost."

"... You still smell like Chanel N°5." his comment made the girl giggle again.

"One of my friends had his little imps go to the human world and rob an entire Chanel store, to bring me all Chanel N°5 perfume bottles." how incredulous, Husk thought, staring at the girl flabbergast, speaking of a clear crime, committed in her name. And then, he started laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of her statement.

"Angel would kill to have a whole room of Chanel N°5." he said, his eyes softening as he put his hand over hers. "Y/N... Knowing that you are doing fine... That you aren't suffering... Or anything that I put you through... It makes me... Content."

"My darling." Y/N called out. "Do you remember the day of our wedding?"

"Of course I do. What's that question?"

With a cheeky grin, she took out the picture from her purse, handing it to her beloved. "Alastor was able to find this. His connections truly are amazing." Husk's eyes were wet with falling tears, and his lips were trembling. "I forgot I had pink roses braided in my hair. I was so busy looking at my handsome husband, that everything around me vanished." Husk's sobbing got even louder. "I wanted to frame this picture first, but I couldn't resist showing it to you first."

"Get out, Y/N! Get out!" his voice was broken and raw, so pained that even her heart shattered. "I am not the man you fell in love with. Why do you think my name is 'Husk'? I am just that - A husk of the man I never was. I am not worth anything. I don't amount to anything. I just gamble money I don't have and drink booze until I pass out. I don't deserve a second chance, and I certainly don't deserve you. I never did. I got you killed, damn it!"

"You think too much, you fool." Y/N cupped his face, bringing him into a gentle kiss - A kiss so loving that it numbed his pain, and hightened his senses, that got his heart pumping again and his lungs screaming for air. "I fell in love with you for good reason, and I intend to remain by your side, loving you." she smiled, wiping his tears with her thumb. "You can try as much as you wish to drive me away, but it will not work. You may succeed in convincing yourself that you are a lesser man, but you cannot do that with me. I know the man before me, and I know I will never leave you."

"Y/N..." the man sniffled, burying his face in her bosom, holding so tightly onto her petite body that he almost feared breaking her.

"There was once a time when you would only call me 'Sweety'." her honeyed giggle sounded so teasing, yet it didn't embarrass him. It served only to make him chuckle.

"There was also a time when I would only call you 'Chanel', if you recall." it almost felt as though they were both alive, and during their honey moon, without a single care in the world, and living a most carefree life.

"That does bring back some very amusing memories." Husk hummed in agreement, feeling melancholic, despite the intense joy surging through his body. Perhaps it was due to the unfamiliarity of this positive feeling, that he felt exhausted, or maybe from his excessive crying and whining. Regardless, he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his wife's arms, and never leave this blasted room ever again.

"Can you promise me something?" the man asked. "I am selfish still - Even more so as a demon. I am nothing but filth. I didn't deserve you then, and I deserve you even less now. Still... Now that you're here... I can't let you go again. So..."

Though he found himself eating his words, Y/N only smiled, laying down on the bed and taking him down with her, nestling him comfortably into her loving embrace. "Alastor said you purr like a kitten. I would love to hear that, tonight." she hummed, hearing his annoyed snarl. "And every night going forward, for as long as we may live in this afterlife we have." Husk's body became stiff, frozen with shock. "That is what you wanted me to promise, isn't it? That I will never leave you." he didn't respond. "It is within our wedding vows, silly. There is no way I would walk away, after I have just found my soulmate."

"... Even though I look like... This? And I am irredeemably addicted to gambling and drinking, even more so than before... And I have lost my soul to the Radio Demon? I am stuck doing his bidding for eternity... And..." Y/N only hugged him closer.

"No matter what, in sickness and in death, you and I will still be soulbound." his small body was softly trembling with emotion. "I've got you, my darling. Worry not about anything. I have got you." she remained silent for a little while. "But, Husk..." her voice sounded so distant, so... Melancholic. "Do you... Still like me? The way you did before?"

Startled by her words, Husker jolted up, looking at the pitiful visage of his lover. "What... What do you mean...?"

"My skin is pure white, with no colour, except for my make up. My eyes are black where they should be white, and the worst carmine red, where they should be embodying the aspect of nature. Even my hair looks to be an abnormal colour, and no matter how much I try to dye it, it will not retain its original shade." she gulped, looking away from him. "Any shred of normalcy that I have... Is so tiresome, so much work to keep up, the princessy facade that I used to have, that I used to love... That you used to love..." she sighed softly. "Yet even that completely dissolves as soon as I transform in the monstrous form that I fight so hard to keep veiled from the world."

"Y/N." he caressed her soft face, only to notice small particles of powder latching onto his fur. "I'm a fucking furry mammal with wings. I look like a children's plush toy or somethin'. Meanwhile, you look as doll-like as always, and you're afraid I wouldn't like you anymore? How silly." he sighed, leaning to place a kiss on her forehead. For a few seconds, he stopped to ponder over a rather bold move, and in a split second, he retrieved a wooden box from under his bed. "This is my secret. Nobody has to know about this." he spoke, a rosy tint on his cheeks. "Open it."

Carefully, the girl did as instructed, revealing the content of the box. A bunch of letters were preserved there, all of them neatly placed and handwritten with black ink. "Husk..." Y/N felt the air in her lungs dissipating, as she realised all those letters were recreating the exchange of love words from their time alive. "H-How...?"

"I have all our letters memorised." he chuckled lightly. "I... Needed some way of keeping you close... Of remembering you. I am shit at drawing, but I have a good enough memory... So this was the only way of preserving what we had."

"It's been so long... And yet, you... You still remember... All of it? There must be tens, if not, hundreds of them... How...?" the girl was flabbergast, yet melting completely.

"I read them every night before sleep, when alive, and I read them every night now also." those precious teardrop diamonds caressing her cheeks falling down so gracefully.

𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈; 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒; 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

His usual raspy voice sounded so romantic as he recited the love poem he wrote to her. A voice that he only reserved for her. A voice that only she would ever know.

𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁; 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼'𝓂 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈; 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒; 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

A love so pure and true, bottomless and without boundaries; Husker himself forgot just how endless his emotions could run. He thought himself jaded and cold, having lost his own heart, the second he lost her... Yet now... Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he first thought. Perhaps... Even someone like himself deserves some kind of redemption.

𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒.

Without her, he wasn't whole. Without her, he is not himself. Without her, he is empty. Without her, his whole life falls apart. Without her, he is nothing but a worthless deadbeat.

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓁𝓁. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.

But now, he is not alone anymore - Well, perhaps he never was to begin with, considering he still had Angel and Charlie, to some extent, yet nothing can compare to sweet Y/N's existence by his side. Nothing can heal his aching soul, or revert the damage he did to himself throughout life and afterlife, the way her love for him did.

♡ ~𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼~♡

[willows-escape]

Symbolic - 1990!Erik x Reader - Part 1

Pairing - Erik (1990! Charles Dance) x (Female) Reader

Summary - the topic of the mask was the last obstacle in your blossoming relationship, and you were desperate to cross the barrier and become fully intertwined with the man you loved and claimed he loved you too.

Warnings - erik’s deformity is a mix of the deformity we see erik have as a child in the 1990 version and the musical, phantom having a small breakdown, the ✨mask✨topic, poorly dealt with feelings, miscommunication, suggestive moments and reference to genitalia and arousal, descriptions of a gory facial disfigurement, intense self hatred, mentions of christine but she’s long gone in this

Word Count - 4,770

Notes - there will be a part 2 i gotchu i gotchu. should part 2 be smutty or also just suggestive? also i tried writing this in a victorian-esque tone but if you arent vibing with that let me know and i’ll switch it up for part 2. i just thought it would be a nice touch.

give me feedback !!! pleasee !!!!

01 (you're here!) / 02

The nearby sound of trickling water gracefully blended into the ambiance of your surroundings; the towering trees above you resembled a verdant canopy. The quilt beneath you protected your body from the prickly blades of grass and artificial soil, offering a comfortable spot to recline with your hair spread out beneath you, shimmering in the artificial light.

You laid supine, hands elevated above you to cradle a book you had recently begun reading. The words captivated your attention, submerging you in a realm of fantasy and euphoria. Reading was your preferred means of escaping reality, a release you frequently yearned for when the burdens of the world weighed on your shoulders. It all faded away when you became engrossed in the pages of a book.

Regrettably, you were not the only person who was aware of your coping mechanisms. The situation was quite an affair, so you wouldn’t delve too deeply into the small details, but the love of your life had at long last informed you of his reciprocal affection for you. It felt magical and otherworldly to hear that sweet confession escape his enthralling lips, his eyes penetrating into the depths of your soul as his hands tenderly grasped your waist. You had witnessed the words that you only ever seemed to hear in your dreams.

So what had left you so apprehensive?

Well, the man you spoke so highly about, Erik, did not seem to return those high opinions for you. There was a part of himself he laboured ceaselessly to conceal from you, a mask that symbolically and literally kept up a barrier between your world and his world to prevent them from intertwining. You’d exchanged tender sentiments, cried tears of anguish and passion the night you’d finally confessed. You clung to each other as if your lives depended on it and subjected each other to a night of basking in vulnerability and fragility as your secrets long harboured tumbled past your tongue before you could restrain them. The morning after was no less exquisite and that of a fairy tale romance, but the barrier remained.

That mask he wore, pale and icy to the touch, silently spoke of his distrust for you. The final puzzle piece that he adamantly refused to fit into place, even for the sake of your love. Oh, it was a cruel predicament indeed! All you desired was to behold the appearance of the man you held dear, but he swore by the highest heavens that his visage would send you fleeing, and that was the last outcome he desired. To some extent, you understood his apprehension, having heard him recount tales of how numerous individuals he had cared for and adored had reacted abhorrently upon the unveiling of his face. But how could he expect the two of you to spend the remainder of your lives together without even a glimpse of his unadorned skin?

You weren't expecting Prince Charming, and while you weren't entirely convinced by his claims of him having a face of nightmares, you did trust that he might not be conventionally attractive. After all, you had never seen him. Besides his gentlemanly actions and his physique that seemed as if it had been crafted by a divine being, you weren't going to assume that he was the most handsome man in the world. You would love him nonetheless. But no matter how greatly you persisted and promised him you wouldn’t leave despite what he looked like, he truly did not believe a word you said. And it hurt.

“A new book, dear?”

You glanced upward, granting the subject of your grovelling a tight lipped smile as you hastily flicked your attention back to the words on the page. No anger dwelled within you, just painful disappointment, and the ache in your heart made it hard to bare the sight of him. “Of course. It’s Jane Eyre.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, his walking cane planted firmly into the ground below. You internally winced as the silence rang loud in the air. You were not seeking to upset your lover, but also somehow desiring to communicate that you weren't entirely pleased at the moment. It appeared that the message had travelled clear, but the upset was unavoidable.

A moment more passed before he spoke, “I feel a chill coming on. Seems as though it’s about to rain, don’t you think? Come, let’s retreat inside before it starts to pour.”

You arched a suspicious eyebrow, fingers still tightly clasped around the novel you held. If the plastic animals scattered around that Erik had stolen from the props department said anything, everything in this quaint woodsy area was unquestionably fake. From the dirt to the grass to the trees, the animals and the sky. It went without saying there would be no rainfall. This meant he wanted to discuss things with you without the distraction of your nose being buried within the pages of a book. And you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

“And why should I do that?” you questioned, paying him no eye contact as you pretended to continue to read.

“You wouldn’t want your clothing to get wet, would you? I won’t be visiting the laundry room of the opera house for another week, hence it would be wise to avoid sullying a valuable item of clothing,” he reasoned, knowing fully well that he’d drop whatever he was currently doing to run and fulfil any request you asked of him, never mind visiting the damn laundry room.

You parted your lips, ready to jestingly remark about how there would indeed be no rainfall. Yet, in that very moment, a peculiar sensation graced your senses. A solitary droplet of water descended upon your nose, its touch cold and trailing a path of dampness as it glided down your nasal bridge. A gasp escaped your lips as more droplets descended, their frequency increasing with each passing moment. In a hastened flurry, you stood upright, clasping your cherished book to your bosom. You abandoned the forgotten quilt as you sprinted through the doors adorned with stained glass, leading you back to Erik's modest dwelling. He followed closely, not far behind your hurried steps.

You’d have to speak to him about putting up a gazebo. To block out the sun, you’d tell him.

“Guess you were right,” you half-heartedly chuckled, absentmindedly tossing the book onto a table to the side of you.

You found yourself in Erik’s room of treasures, where he stored and cherished his most esteemed items, namely his collection of masks and his grand piano. The ambiance within was of a tranquil and serene nature, causing your anger to gradually dissipate. Yet, the sorrow and anguish still lingered within you.

"Forgive me, have I down something to displease you?" Erik questioned, his steps measured and deliberate as if he were trying not to startle you, akin to approaching a timid creature. With utmost gentleness, he lightly laid his hand upon your shoulder, allowing it to glide downward, tracing the contour of your arm.

"Erik…" you whispered, tearing your eyes away from him. Your heart faltered, your breath catching in your throat as his fingertips delicately brushed against your skin. A fire simmered in your core, your veins rushing with hot blood as the touch of his hand engulfed you, overwhelming your senses with a fervour. “I… do not wish to upset you.”

“The only upset you cause me is by not being honest with your feelings,” he replied, hand reaching up to gently trace the skin of your cheek. Your eyes felt weak, gently fluttering shut as you indulged yourself in his affections. “Please, tell me what is troubling you.”

You paused for a moment, allowing yourself to succumb to his touch for a little while longer. The words settled on the tip of your tongue, ready to escape you and take a leap of faith from your mouth to his waiting ears, but you’d already approached this subject with him before and did not wish to push him to frustration or sorrow.

“I just…” you paused, “One day, Erik, do you wish for us to be husband and wife?”

His eyes widened, mouth agape in shock at your blunt statement. He stammered in surprise, removing his hand from your cheek slowly. He drew in a deep breath before answering, “There is nothing I desire more than to be wedded to you. Where is this coming from? Are you feeling as though our relationship is moving too slow? I just didn’t want to frighten you by pushing for more. Why, I’ll marry you tomorrow-”

“Erik, Erik,” you laughed, hand coming up to cup his cheek with your own hand as he was doing to you seconds ago, “I didn’t mean it like that, though I’ll marry you the second you ask it of me. Maybe not tomorrow, however.”

“Ah,” his nerves tingled, goosebumps rising on his skin at the electricity of your touch. He cleared his throat before continuing, “While that is a great relief to me, may I ask as to why you asked that, if not for the reason I previously thought?”

Taking one last final pause, you readied yourself to confess your true want. “I know you’ve said no, and told me to not bring up the subject again… but my love, how can I marry somebody when I have yet to see their face?”

Erik pursed his lips, his eyes shifting down as he began fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. You felt dreadful witnessing the unease that the inquiry evoked in him, understanding that it inevitably resurrected distressing memories he longed to forget. Nevertheless, no advancement could transpire between the two of you in your relationship until he allowed you to see his face. You refused to be bound to someone who concealed such an essential aspect of himself, even if you knew the intentions to be entirely pure.

“I can’t do that,” Erik shook his head, walking away from you and moving towards his basket of walking canes. He placed his current one back with the bunch, before busying himself with rearranging his mask collection. He didn’t want to stray too far from you, but also wanted you to drop the subject.

You quietly tip toed behind him, enveloping him in your arms as you wrapped them around his waist and placed your head on his broad shoulder. You audibly heard his breathing pause, feeling him shiver as he relished in your touch. But nevertheless, he pushed on with rearranging his collection, although he wasn’t moving side to side around the table as he was doing previously.

“But why?” you asked.

“You know why, my face is that of nightmares. And I’ve hurt too many by showing them what they believed they could handle. My expectations are realistic.”

“You could never hurt me!” You insisted, your emotions getting the best of you as you retreated from him. He hunched over slightly, hands resting upon the clear spot of table in front of him to steady himself. His head twitched to the side as he bit his bottom lip in thought.

“Dear, I know you think that I exaggerate when I speak of my face, but I can assure you that I do not lie out of simple insecurity. My own father hid me down here due to my appearance, that must speak volumes,” he sighed, coming up once again to stand straight. “Now please, do not ask again.”

“So when I inevitably return to wallowing in my own feelings and escaping to the woods for hours at a time again, will you tell me to not ask again when you approach the subject of my feelings once more?” you tried to reason, desperately wanting him to view the situation from your point of view.

He didn’t respond for a little while, evidently pondering your words that he knew deep down held some veracity. The matter of the mask was evidently causing you distress, and he couldn't fathom any solution that would alleviate your concerns. But alas, he simply couldn't bring himself to do so.

“I’m sorry, my answer’s no.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, shimmering with unspoken pain and longing. Your vision blurred as a single tear cascaded down your cheek, tracing a path of sorrow. Your body trembled with silent sobs, your shoulders shook as you struggled to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume you. The ache in your heart grew stronger, as if each tear shed was a testament to the love and vulnerability you had offered, only to be met with rejection.

“My dear, please, don’t cry over me,” his arms swiftly enfolded you in an embrace, his own frame quivering with an inability to endure the sight of your tears. With a resolute tenderness, he pressed his chilled lips upon your forehead, bestowing a gentle kiss as he cradled your head against his chest. In a steady rhythm, he swayed, seeking to soothe your anguish and stifle the heart breaking sounds that escaped your lips.

“How can I not?” you wept, fingers shaking from how firmly you were clinging onto his white button up shirt. You were grabbing on to him so tight you feared your nails would pierce holes in the delicate fabric, but you couldn’t bring yourself to relinquish your grip no matter how much you internally fought with yourself. Nothing you were doing seemed to be venting your frustrations adequately, leaving you at a loss for how to cope. "My love, the very essence of my existence, the one who breathes life into me, steadfastly refuses to show me his face."

“You must understand- I feel for you exactly as you describe your feelings for me, if not tenfold. That’s why I can’t show you. I’m protecting you just as much I want to protect myself,” he confessed, eyes squeezing shut as his swaying slowed to a stop. His grip was becoming tighter and tighter.

“I know life has dealt you an unfair hand, Erik, I’ve heard your cries and witnessed your heartbreak. I was there for you all throughout Christine, I was there to see your regret and misery as she left you behind. I did not leave your side for a second. I know the great despair and trauma her reaction to your face cast upon you, but please believe not a hair on my head resembles Christine. I will not hurt you the same.”

Erik held you a little longer, his embrace becoming even more so impossibly tighter. He wasn’t urgent to reply, instead allowing himself to bask in your love for as long as he could manage. Your sweet love was an addiction, an ambrosia he craved every single waking hour. But even then you lived in his dreams, your angelic presence blessing him wherever he went or whatever state he was in.

“I love you, Erik,” you spoke, looking upwards towards him as he began to tilt his head to share your unwavering gaze.

“I love you too,” he said.

“So show me,” you whispered, eyes glistening with tears and lips downturned into a subtle frown.

You took one last look into his eyes, before pushing yourself forward and up. Your lips met in a fervent union, a culmination of the deepest desires and longings that had long been brewing between you both. It was a kiss imbued with a delicate tenderness and an irresistible urgency, your mouths moving in perfect harmony. Each brush of his lips sent electric waves coursing through your body, igniting a blazing fire within your soul. In that timeless moment, you and him surrendered yourselves completely, losing all sense of time and space. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent pledge of profound love and unwavering devotion.

As you reluctantly broke the intimate connection, succumbing to the need for a breath of air, your gaze met his half-lidded eyes. His lips were swollen, and his tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip as he inhaled deeply. A blush crept across your cheeks as you attempted to conceal the rapid beating of your heart, finally becoming aware of his hands that had gradually ventured downward, tenderly tracing the curves of your waist.

He silently took a moment to recover, savouring the lingering taste of your kiss. It was unlike any other you had shared before - no longer innocent and brief, but a passionate embrace that ignited a fire within you. As your lips met, it felt as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure bliss. The intensity of your connection was palpable, like a match being scraped against a stone, creating small sparks that danced and flickered between your bodies. It was a kiss that left you both breathless, your hearts racing with newfound desire and a longing for more.

“If you really insist on seeing my face, come with me to your room. I do not wish to make you feel cornered, but if you are to faint I wish for you to not bring yourself harm.”

You nodded eagerly, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anticipation. The kiss you shared made every colour appear more vibrant and the air feel lighter, filling every fibre of your being with pure bliss. As you followed him, each step felt buoyant, as if you were walking on air.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your room. Erik was very against you two sharing a bedroom, stating that he did not wish to make you uncomfortable or feel trapped next to him, when the reality couldn’t be farther from that. But you feared that he might’ve just been projecting, that he was the one who felt uncomfortable and trapped with the idea of you two sharing a room, so you’d left the topic alone for another day. That day still hasn’t arrived.

Erik took a hold of your hand, gently pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. He shook slightly, so lightly that you almost thought your eyes were deceiving you. “Are you sure about this, y/n?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything, besides how much I love you,” you giggled.

“I… will not keep you down here, if you decide you never want to see me again. I’ve learnt my lessons, do not fear you reaching the same fate Christine did when she reacted negatively.”

You wanted to protest his words, state that you feeling negatively towards him was inconceivable and never going to happen. You also wanted to tell him to stop mentioning Christine, just the utterance of her name made you scowl. But you didn’t want to argue at a time like this, so you just nodded your head.

“Before I take this awful thing off… that kiss was everything I’ve ever wanted and more. If after this you no longer love me, please know that your display of love made me feel like a normal, living man, and that I’m doing this because I know I can die happy after the fact, if you were to leave.”

“I’m honoured to be able to make you feel that way, my love.”

He hesitantly extended his hand towards the strings that secured his mask to his head, skillfully undoing the knot he had carefully tied. As he prepared to remove the mask, he couldn't help but steal a final wistful glance at you, savoring the moment before gradually peeling it away from his skin, gripping the edges tightly with his other hand. The air seemed to hold its breath as the mask revealed the vulnerable visage beneath, unveiling a hidden side that had long been concealed.

His face was a grotesque sight, something that defied accurate description. The skin was cruelly stripped away, revealing the raw and twisted muscles beneath. It was a horrifying visage, and it made your heart ache. He was deformed, disfigured; the only parts of his face that were covered in flesh were swollen and bright red, contrasting the pale whiteness of his bone. You tried your best to swallow the gasp that was pushing past your throat, but you were human.

You were sure you could hear the sound of his heart shattering, but you were so shocked you could only watch as he crumbled to his knees before you. His screams and cries made you nauseous, his repeated wails of, ‘why!? why!? why!?’ as he grabbed onto the hem of your skirt, hiding his face in the fabric in his suffering. You snapped back into reality, falling to your knees in front of him.

“Erik, no, please-”

“Go, please. Leave me.”

“No, please, hear me out. I don’t hate you-”

“This is hardly a face you’d want to marry!” he protested, burying his face deeper into the fabric of your skirt, resisting as you tried to pull it away. “You may not hate me, but you’re scared! Is this the face of a man you could wake up next to, spend the rest of your love with, make love to at night before we sleep? Please just go!”

“No!” you cried, relenting on your attempts to tear his desperate self away from your skirt. You wrapped your arms around him, this time cradling him against your bosom as you rocked back and forth. You felt the tension slowly dissipate from his form. “I do not hate you and I am not scared of you! I want to do all those things with you, Erik, please I swear!”

His quiet sobs continued to echo through the air, his scared body shaking erratically. With utmost tenderness, you cradled his quivering form in your arms, holding him close and providing a safe haven for his shattered heart. Gently, you brushed your fingers through his hair, whispering words of love and reassurance into his ear. Your touch and soothing voice offered him comfort and solace, doing your best to remind him that your love extended far beyond mere physical appearances.

In that moment, as he sought refuge in your embrace, you felt an overwhelming surge of love and compassion for this broken man before you. Despite the mask he wore, both symbolically and literally, you saw the depth of his pain and the vulnerability he rarely allowed others to witness. Your heart ached for him, yearning to heal the wounds that had haunted him for far too long.

"You are more than your face, Erik," you whispered softly, your voice filled with unwavering affection. "Your heart, your soul, and the love we share transcends any physical imperfections. I love you for who you are, please believe that."

As his sobs gradually subsided, he looked up at you with tear-filled eyes, searching for a glimmer of hope and acceptance. In that moment, you saw a spark of belief flicker within him, a tiny beacon of light amidst the darkness that had consumed him for so long.

"I… I want to believe you," he choked out, his voice trembling with both fear and longing. "But all my life people have only said different. How can they when I don’t have a face, and only the resemblance of a face?”

You held his face gently in your hands, your touch conveying a tenderness that words alone could not express. "I understand. I’m sorry for reacting like that, please forgive me. I love you regardless of your face, it was just unlike anything I’d ever seen before. That’s all. I feel no differently for you than how I felt before you removed the mask.”

He hesitantly inclined towards your touch, his eyes seeking yours for reassurance and acquiescence. He quivered as a vehement cry escaped his lips once more, bedewing your bodice in his tears. Yet, you cared not the slightest, more preoccupied with consoling the poor man trembling before you.

You both sat together on the floor of your bedroom for an indeterminate span of time, but to you it felt like hours. You cradled him like a mother would her infant, tenderly caressing and comforting him with gentle touches and whispered reassurances. You hadn’t seen Erik shed tears since the evening of your confession, and you could only surmise that all the trepidation and unease had finally reached a breaking point and crumbled along with his composure. It deeply saddened you to know the man you loved so intensely hated himself and had been hated so harshly by those around him. You vowed to never cause him pain like everybody else had as long as you both lived.

Eventually, he withdrew from you, gracefully settling on his knees, his hands still shielding his face from your view, protecting his vulnerability. He wiped away the glistening tears that adorned his cheeks, his other hand instinctively seeking to conceal himself from your gaze. A pensive frown graced your mouth as you hesitantly reached upward, your fingers yearning to grasp his trembling hands, only to recoil as he instinctively recoiled in response to your advance.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve seen it all now, haven’t I?” you hushed, hands dropping from his hands but instead reaching up to smooth back his hair with your fingers.

He sniffled quietly, “Forgive me, I did not intend on frightening you. I am simply unused to showing my bare face around others, it’s unfamiliar.”

“Of course, I understand, love,” you smiled, gently trailing your hand down the side of his face. Goosebumps littered his skin like a trail.

You moved closer to him, your heart racing with anticipation. You kept one hand on his face, basking in the warmth of his skin that didn't have any disfigurement. Your other hand gently draped over his shoulder as you approached, your fingers delicately tracing the contours of his back. He quivered beneath your touch, his legs extending out from under him to create a space for you to come impossibly closer. As you lowered yourself onto his lap, a surge of electricity coursed through your veins. His breath, warm and intoxicating, caressed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands trembled with uncertainty, itching to remove themselves from his face to come down and touch you instead. You chuckled.

“You can hold me.”

His breath caught in his throat, his mind filled with a whirlwind of desires as he absorbed the words that flowed from your enchanting lips. You couldn't help but chuckle softly, savouring the profound effect you had on the man beneath you.

“I’d like to put on my mask, dear,” Erik finally spoke, “As much as I love having you so close, I’m not ready to show myself to you so unashamedly yet.”

With a nod of your head, you stepped back, allowing him the space he needed to shroud his face from view. Though you comprehended the internal struggle he faced after years of hiding, a bittersweet pang of sadness tugged at the depths of your heart. The poignant reality that he still felt the need to shield himself wounded you deeply. But you tried to keep reminding yourself that it wasn’t personal.

He swiftly and efficiently retied the strings, maintaining his determination, as he stood up following you. You leaned in and planted a brief but meaningful kiss on his lips, savoring the moment before reluctantly breaking away. With a mix of emotions swirling inside, you diverted your attention, attempting to shift your focus away from the recent event that had transpired.

“I’ll be out dusting the statues, you haven’t kept up with them in a while and I’d noticed them on the way in and I think they could really use a clean. I’ll speak to you later.” You quickly retreated from the room without even sparing a second glance.

Erik stood there, mouth agape, unable to comprehend the suddenness of your departure. His mind was flooded with a multitude of questions, doubts, and confusion, hindering his ability to think clearly. As he glanced around the room, an overwhelming sense of awe washed over him, as he tried to process the intensity of the moment and the speed at which you had vanished from his presence. Meanwhile, his body felt an uncomfortable strain, as his arousal pressed insistently against the constricting fabric of his trousers, adding yet another layer of complexity to his already tumultuous thoughts.

You were no less aroused, the tingling sensation in your nether regions proving that you had been mutually affected by your lover. Oh lord, this was going to cause problems.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a Chesshire reader x yandere demon slayers were they're out on a mission and come across demon reader and after the demon slayer sees the demons skill they want them but before they can get the reader, they vanished so now the slayers are after the reader on a search for them

(You don't gotta do this,I know it sounds weird but I thought of it and since I suck at writing I thought you could write it Please?)

Cheshire Demon Reader | Yandere Demon Slayer

You are like Tamayo, acting on your own from Muzan Kibitsuji. With a smile as wide as the crescent moon you can easily make yourself disappear long before the drop of a hat. Something you seem to use in order to avoid others from apprehending you both against demons and their slayers. You’re akin to a mischievous yokai that simply appears to mildly inconvenience the townspeople, who are probably well aware of you. But when confronted about you they just shake their heads and wave their hands–”Ah them? They're no problem, just a sneaky yokai that likes to play tricks but when it counts they’ve got our backs.” 

And you do, enough to attract the attention of the demon slayers whose targets are no longer existent. Wondering who or what is killing these demons that have been so hard to track down. Only to find your smiling visage disappearing into the dark of the night:

Kyojorou Rengoku

“WELL….YOU DON’T SEE THAT EVERY DAY!”

He’s been put on a mission to catch a demon on the run

Eating people and destroying the remaining lives in its wake

So he arrives greeted by the people who both curse and rumor about Cheshire (Y/n)

And when night hits he finds a civilian in distress 

Only to be seconds behind at the flick of your disappearing tail 

The demon is subdued and he can only look at the demon pleading to die

“Oh, flame guy! Don’t you have the sword that’ll kill that thing? Go ahead, I wanna see what it looks like to die that way.” “OF COURSE! I PLAN TO! BUT WHY HELP ME?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He’s persistent 

And he decides to keep finding out more about you

“Why don’t you make like a tree and leave flame boy?”

“YOU’D LIKE THAT RIGHT? THEN COME WITH ME, I DON’T THINK I’D BE ABLE TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU AFTER THIS!”

He loves you for your willingness to protect the humans around you

He doesn’t mind your mischievousness 

But he’d appreciate it if you weren’t so slippery to catch

“COME DARLING! There is no reason to run! I have no plans to eliminate you. IN FACT IT’S QUITE THE OPPOSITE!”

Tanjiro Kamado

Same mission 

He’s led by the scent of the demon

Only to catch another

It smells like Ms. Tamayo except its more curious

“Well well, who is this young sprout? I’ve never seen you before, what’s your name?”

You meet him earlier on 

He probably doesn’t realize you're a demon though

Instead blushing at just the way that you are 

Completely unaware of the way you’ve stolen his food

“Huh!? I just had it?”

“Ah, it must have been (Y/n).”

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah, they’ve been awfully curious about newcomers as of late.”

 He doesn’t mind it until he’s getting slapped around by the demon

Ready to pull out all the stops until you intervene

Saving his life and further making him fall in love with you

“I-I-I–”

“Awww don’t get your kimono in a twist baby Tanjiro.”

“I–”

“Ciao.”

It takes some time away when he decides to pursue you

You’ve broken away from Muzan so it's a given that he should want to know more about you

Don’t mind the weird bets he tries to instigate with you 

“I-I-I’ll have you marry me! If I win you have to marry me!”

“Whoa whoa, that’s hilarious little boy…Let’s do it.”

Iguro Obanai

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to kill you, now.”

“Oh, will you then–!” 

You’ll have a blast with him

He’s such an antisocial outcast he’s perfect prey for your antics

He’s such a downer the townspeople are slow to inform him about your reputation

“Stop! Stop moving!”

“Ha ha okay.”

“No wait–don’t!” 

“Hehehehe.”

He gives up on killing you 

When you interrupt him again 

It’s to bring an end to the demon

And he quiets the attraction that bubbles in him when you terminate the demon

“Why…why would you save the people? As a demon.”

“ Don’t know. It’s fun here. And I won’t stand for anyone disrupting that.”

He figures he can take you 

After all, they let that stubborn kid keep one

Why can’t he?

“Just come with me and I’ll stop bothering you.”

“Hahaha, that’s hilarious. Why would I stop now!? This game of cat and mouse is one I’m quite good at!”

[muntitled]

Eunseok's Restraint

Bodyguard!Eunseok x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seducing the man hired to protect and serve

Warnings: Language, Violence, Organized Crime, Smut +18 (Minors DNI)

A/N: Do not read this it's not good. I just needed him out of my head

A door slamming shut in the distant driveway underneath your window rouses you from a disturbing dream. A dream you're all too happy waking up from. This had been odd because you had never stayed up past the tenth hour and as a result, have never had a sleepover with any of your past adolescent friends.

You fell asleep when your father conducted his shady goings on like a good little girl because that is what was expected of you. And if there was but one thing that you knew, it is how to be good.

As of recently, however, your usual, robotic if not, blind obedience was thawing slowly and it only takes one single solitary evening for that clean pure streak to become poisoned with an inky blackness.

But something in you was screaming with molten excitement because he was back…

"Just one peek," You're not entirely sure who you're trying to reassure. You certainly had no friends and you couldn't have been talking to any of your stuffed animals, you had put them to bed long ago.

You ought to be in bed yourself- but your mindless feet drag you out of bed. You're aware enough to slot them into the pink, fuzzy slippers but that is where your sensibility stops. You trot across the carpet, as silent as a lamb, stepping into the sliver of moonlight shining in through the window.

The window.

It was an ancient, ghastly thing, much like the rest of your home. Your room was the only architectural exception with its pastel interiors and soft finishes. The rest of the ostentatious manor belonged solely to your father. Ivy clung to the building like a sickness, crawling up the foundations of your window. It is against those windows where you now sit perched like a bird, watching the beasts that prowled down below. You watch with bated breath as those neatly arranged cars snake down the gravel pathway, circling around the fountain and stopping at the myriad steps. You're not too hidden and perhaps you should be, but every sliver of rationality left, disappears as soon as he uncovers himself from within the jet black luxury car.

It all happens in slow motion, really. Your breathing stammers with unfamiliar lust, steaming up the pane as you watch Eunseok, one of your father's fiercely loyal workers, readjust the lapels of his dark blue suit. He looks impeccably dressed, actually, along with that stone cold visage that only adds to his ‘brooding, emotionless bodyguard, exterior. He's so finely dressed, in fact, that you suspect it had been terrifyingly easy to blend in with the normal working class in his outfit. Absolutely nothing about his countenance alluded to all the blood he'd voluntarily spilled for your father and that's the problem.

At least Sungchan beside him had the decency of appearing like the common criminal he was. Something in his pitch-black suit and that garish display of jewellery pieces just screams 'illegal activity.’

Not Eunseok though.

As if feeling somehow that he was being watched, Eunseok’s eyes flit to the highest level of the piss-rich manor as if compelled by some other worldly force. You suppose this is why your dad had hired him. His senses had to have been immaculate to catch you watching him from up high.

His eyes however, do not react as he watches you watching him from up there, your night gown clinging to your shoulder by a single silk thread and sheer fucking will. A low whistle rips through Sungchan’s mouth and just like that, the spell is broken.

"Quit it," Eunseok says, breaking eye contact to stare straight ahead at the manor instead. "Quit thinking about fucking his daughter."

Eunseok could feel Sungchan's eye roll as he whined "Since when did you become so fucking boring?"

"Since our entire lives depended on completing a job without our dicks getting in the way." Eunseok locks the car door with the tinted windows before continuing towards the manor, Sungchan walks in stride.

It is only when the men disappear inside the building when you realise you were straining your neck immeasurably, just to catch one fleeting glance.

You're never usually so easily coaxed out of the confines of your quarters but this is an exception. The corridor is dark and deserted when you creep out, your fuzzy slippers muted along the floor. The end of the corridor opens to a mezzanine flooded with a rectangle of golden artificial light and you quicken your steps. Your stomach already set alight with the inevitability of seeing him again. And him seeing you.

"I hope he didn't give you too much trouble," the voices in the downstairs living room travel towards you while you're still clinging to the darkness of the corridor like the ivy outside. You’re smart enough to cling to the mahogany bars of the mezzanine, overlooking the scene below like a hopeless voyeur.

Even now you could tell you'd probably get eaten alive if you were to get caught. Such talk of unsavoury business is no place for any dignified lady. All machismo and grit rising from the stems of celebratory whiskey glasses. You creep closer.

"No trouble at all," Eunseok speaks up but Sungchan is quick to interrupt, "-Although there was just a disgustingly wayward spray of blood that I rather not have had to deal with. I've got blood on my cufflinks and It's just not-"

"He's joking, Sir... of course" Eunseok adds with a quickness, causing you to slap a hand over your mouth to stop you from laughing involuntarily. It is that one movement that illuminates your frame right in Eunseok's line of vision. He watches you from above your father's head as you skulk, quite effectively in the shadows. His eye sparkles in the knowledge that he had made you laugh and your presence alone, albeit unseen, charges the room with something new.

Your father remains quiet for one suspicious moment before murmuring a low yet audible, "Of course," before veering off on his very own tangent.

From atop the mezzanine, you could see every part of the man in your father had hired to protect you. And he was damn good at his job if he was able to spot you so embarrassingly quickly.

None of the other men in the room had any inclination of your presence and that only fuelled your hunger and your confidence. A dangerous combination for a woman indeed. Your hand is already dipping between your legs the second conversation resumes. The shadows are a thin and inconsolable veil but a veil nonetheless. No one that wasn't looking for you would ever see you. Sungchan was engaged in a mind-numbing conversation with your father and as luck would have it, Eunseok seemed to have been the only soul keeping an eye out. So you decide to put on a show.

His breath quite literally hitches in the back of his throat when you lift the hem of your nightgown, up. Ever so slowly lending a patch of skin to the chandelier's warm glow. He watches your hands disappear under your pink cotton shorts with wretched anticipation. His swallows thickly, attempting to nod along to what your father was saying especially because a part of him knew the risk that came with entertaining your disobedience.

The threat of getting shot in the head for ogling his boss's kid, whom he swore to protect, doesn't seem all that daunting as Eunseok let's his gaze drift once again to the balcony above.

Eunseok only catches what the light allows and that's significantly less than what he wants, what he deserves. Your cotton panties are a fleeting, quick sight and he fights the groan off honourably, that wishes to slither through.

"I hope his exit was not too cruel, the old dog." Eunseok does not initially register your father's words, his eyes are piercing into your visage, watching every flit of emotion as you rub yourself through the fabric of your panties. He's bursting with the need to help you, to pull you against him and show you how it should be done. He needs you so bad.

"He did not suffer in his final moments?” Your father asks, stealing Eunseok's gaze from you once again. “I'm sure his wife will be glad to hear this."

Eunseok veers his eye from off of your frame, blinking as if reminding himself of the other people present. "We used the silencer.” Eunseok replies robotically.

Sungchan laughs knowingly from beside him. "-like a virgin in church-OOMPH!" Sungchan could not save his ribs from Eunseok's elbow in time.

As quick as the lighting, your back is once again plastered to the corridor away from the light and any prying eyes. You didn't need to use your eyes to know Eunseok had socked Sungchan in the ribs and you nearly laughed once again. "Jesus Christ, it was only a little metaphor!" Sungchan grumbles.

Your father is quick to excuse their antics for the blatant waste of his precious time that it was. He waves a hand dismissively as he says, "Your work is highly revered and will not go unrewarded, gentlemen. For now, you may retire to the west wing for the evening. We are expecting a storm, driving through the countryside is far more treacherous under these conditions." Your heart accelerates with your father's announcement and you feebly peek from around the concrete corner. Eunseok is already looking at you, and what you find in his eyes strips you of your confidence. His eyes are locked within a promise, drowning in the surety that something, beyond the tempest, was definitely a foot. "We appreciate the hospitality sir," Tan mutters under his breath as he watches you sink into the shadows once more.

When you make it back into your room, you leave the door ajar.

If, by some miracle invoked by an ancient power, you had gotten Sungchan to divulge even the tiniest of details about his partner, he'd tell you that, quiet as he may appear, Eunseok was a fucking whore and that it is of paramount importance that you not pursue him in the slightest. Still, it sets your heart aflame when your bedroom door creaks wider only an hour later and your arms grip the stuffy impossibly tighter.

You're tucked away in bed when you hear a voice speak up behind you, "You should be asleep," His words seem to pierce and excite you. A torrid combination as you peer aimlessly ahead. Your mattress feels weightless beneath you, and every particle in the air only seems to be so completely electrified.

It was interesting that he had maintained such a respectable distance. Everything you knew about the man your father had hired was limited but one thing that remained undeniable was Eunseok's restraint. He was restraining himself quite well.

You sit up to face him, your head haloed by your pillows and stuffed animals like a princess. Eunseok's cock all but twitches at the sight of you. Eunseok hates to admit that he had been nursing a boner ever since your little show on the mezzanine and it made his blood boil. He hated to feel 13 again, with no restraint on his hormonal adolescent hormones.

Even now, under the darkness of your room, shrouded in nothing but moonlight, Eunseok sees everything.

Your nightgown has shifted over the course of your tossing and turning and a nipple peeks out from the gown. His voice is gruff as he whispers, "Spread your legs for me. Spread them like you did before." His cock rages against his pyjama bottoms, begging to see the action he had commanded of you.

"All I could do is scream,” you say instead, always preferring to piss him off even in your most fire moments, “and my father would have a bullet through your skull the very second anyone laid their eyes on you,"

"I'm well aware of that, yes," His voice is laced with monotony and he looks completely inviting as he slams his head back against the wall adjacent to your bed. His lips quirks up ever so slightly as his hand lazily rubs over his hard and aching bulge. "Do you know what else I'm aware of, Dove?"

"What?"

"If you truly wanted me dead, I'd be a heap of blood on guts on this pretty little floor already.” He whispers once again, “Pull the sheets down and open your fucking legs."

His command triggers the obedience lodged in the confines of your brain like a switch. You shift and glide over the soft covers as you watch him across from you. Despite the warmth in your cheeks, you humph and open your legs tentatively for him, the cold air crawling up your heated thighs.

"Good,” he says, “Very good," delirium was fueling his every breath and it only causes the throbbing in between your legs to intensify. You whimper unintentionally but the sound causes his eye to snap up to you.

"Do you need instructions, Dove?”

The most you can manage is a broken, pathetic whimper once more as your hand slides over the swell of your breast to tweak your exposed nipple. A rush slams through your body causing you to clamp your legs shut, much to Eunseok's chagrin. He's so desperate to watch you fuck yourself, so undeniably desperate to just fucking cum and you're still making it completely difficult.

Eunseok's cold eyes snap away from your breast up to your face and you freeze in the snow storm of his glare, “You're not stupid, are you? Listening shouldn't be this fucking difficult-" Eunseok is quick to restrain his frustrations once more, when he notices the slight tension in your shoulders and your wide sad eyes in the wake of his degradation.

"I'm…” Eunseok sighs loudly “Sorry," he says so painfully, monotonously it almost makes you smile. Abandoning his post against the wall, Eunseok trudges to the foot of the bed. A war wages within his emotions and you see it in his face, but the right side (or wrong side) wins as he lowers himself at your feet.

A rough calloused hand finds your soft, supple skin, electing a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It's almost magnetic, the way his large hand travels up and down your leg. "I just need you to do something for me. Can you manage that, Dove?" You nod meekly, and the sight of it only makes Eunseok's cock ache even more.

He hadn't thought it possible to want something this bad, to want to feel anyone this bad. Whenever his need arose, he fucked whomever he wanted to at that very moment, but you had introduced a new set of rules. It seemed sacrilegious to pounce on you like he had done with so many other girls. You seemed so incredibly fragile. So breakable.

"Open these legs for me,” he wiggles your toe causing you to let out a quiet giggle, “Just a little? It'd make me so, so fucking happy. " He presses a soft kiss to your steepled knee and the brush of his soft lips on your skin causes a small moan out of you. The bed dips and the covers shift as you move your feet to accommodate your opening legs. "So good, you're doing so good for me, Sweetheart,"

He shifts in unprecedented anticipation and soon, both his hands find your knees to help coax you open. He breathes in deeply at the sight of your drenched cotton panties. "I'm going to help you just a little. Is that alright?"

"I'd really like that." Your voice is high pitched and small, drenched with the thickness of being caught in the height of subspace and all Eunseok can do is marvel at it all.

"Of course, baby," He delivers soft, ticklish kisses along your thigh as his hands hook into the sides of your underwear and he drags them slowly down, against his animalistic and torrid will. "You're so fucking gorgeous." He melts against your legs and his reaction elicits a wave of butterflies.

"You're so fucking perfect, 'know that?" He asks, still spraying kisses over your leg as he discards your panties into the pockets of his pyjama pants. "But you need to do something else for me alright? I need you to-" Eunseok inhales sharply instead of finishing his sentence.

Your hands had operated with a mind of their own, one hand parting your swollen lips while the other rubs lightly over along your clit. Your head is thrown back at the overwhelming rush of ecstasy that flows through your body and you're only spurred by his heated gaze.

"You're not such an innocent little girl, are you?" His thick vibrato sets your skin alight with need and you moan rather loudly into the night air. "Say it," Eunseok taunts. "Say 'yes daddy, I've always been a little slut for you,'” he was testing you.

Your legs cramp with grating tension and your other hand finds your nipple once more. Your gaze is firmly locked on Eunseok who watches you while seated at the foot of your bed with absolute focus.

"Say it!" He barks and the words slowly mesh out of you like a spewing waterfall.

"I've always been…” you squeeze your eyes shut, letting an unprecedented wave of shame intermix with your arousal, “I've always been a slut."

“For who?” Eunseok's voice is sharp.

“For you.” Your voice is quivering.

“For me who?”

“You, Daddy-”

Eunseok’s restraint drains so completely he wonders of it had even really been there as he grips your ankle and violently pulls you underneath him.

"My good little slut,” he whispers as he makes quick work to replace your flimsy hand on your breast with his strong one. Your backarches as Eunseok hovers above you, as if unconsciously giving your entire body to him. “My little fucking whore. Does that feel good baby?”

All you're able to do is nod with your eyes squeezed shut as Eunseok's hands, which are much more experienced and much more reassuring, tweak your nipples in a way that actually has you gasping into the air.

Through the haze of your delirium, you stop his movements. You guide his hand downwards, to wear he’s needed most.

Once Eunseok's cold calloused fingers make contact with your weeping cunt you immediately detach your hand from his, urging him to make magic out of you.

Your hands could never accomplish what he can and you're immediately shot into hyperspace once Eunseok gets the message and begins to rub your cunt at snail's pace.

,”You're so good you know that?” He flies his gaze from his hand in between your legs to your blissed out face and he plants a kiss to the side of your head as if trying to distract you from his fingers sliding into your cunt.

“Fuck, you know you're making Daddy need you, right? He needs you really badly,” His praise is god and it's all that guides you to your inevitable orgasm. Eunseok's lips against your ear while his index and middle finger fuck you open has you fighting the urge to scream into the night air.

“Your fingers couldn't make you feel good like Daddy's can-” it wasn't a question, you don't think. Thinking proves to be exceedingly difficult as you lift your hips to meet his thrusts while his thumb plays with your clit. All this control from one hand is so fucking impressive to you. Watching him strum you like an instrument as if he were in charge of your entire body has you nearing your edge quicker and quicker.

Eunseok begins to rub furiously at your pussy and you fight to keep your eyes on him. In his billowy shirt and sporting an impressive bulge-his eyes wide and showering you with all the attention, it proves to be far too much."C-Can I-"

"Cum for me, Dove. Cum all over my fingers, baby." And your orgasm is quite literally ripped out of the skies. Your legs quake and your voice quivers as you are flung over the edge. His reassuring murmurs and soft affirmations guide you through it all.You slump against your pillows, basking in the afterglow as you watch the millions of thoughts swim through Eunseok's head.

[avaults]

chapter one - welcome to society

from false pretense - a bridgerton!au starring suguru geto

pairing: suguru geto x female reader (zenin)

ch. summary: as daughter of the zenin household, your parents expect no less than perfection of you - their precious emerald! so what happens if the queen sees you; will she have the same perception of you? (3.8k)

content/warnings: bridgerton au, regency era au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, misogyny, bullying, jealousy, mentions of alcohol and explicit contents, mental health issues, death,  academic themes, breaking society’s norms and expectations, geto is as prideful as ever, reader pretending to be someone else, both being a pain 

author's gossip: bonjour, it's me - Anna! so the first chapter has finally arrived and I hope you like it. thank you very much for taking your time to read - please enjoy! special thanks to @fushitoru <3

Dearest gentle reader,

welcome to yet another season of  family representatives entering into society. Alongside mamas making sure their daughters shimmer as brightly as a star, are young eligible men using the opportunity to check whose sparkle might fit themselves. Weeks, months and hours are spent on preparing these young women for their debut to society - all in hopes of impressing her majesty. Though whom may the queen deem worthy enough to take place among her most prized collection of jewelry and will therefore earn the title as this year’s most desired debutante; earning this season’s title as the most incomparable - the diamond of the season.

Upon society’s excitement on to whose daughter will bedazzle the crowd and especially the queen the most to make the final cut, are also rumors lingering as to whom may grace us with their decision to fully participate in the courting related events regarding public. But before we will dive into every mother’s most anticipated part of this very column, I shall inform you about whom many males and also the queen herself have set their sights on. There are two young women who are currently being favored not only for their looks, but also for their standings in society as well as their exquisite mannerisms proven in minor gatherings before. Both are of exceptional lineages. One being miss Iori, daughter of viscount Iori and the other one is in fact a close friend of hers; miss Zenin of the Zenin household. Bear with me as we pay attention to what future will hold spare for these two little birds.

Now onto the most important part for many - during most recent days it has come to my attention that whispers surrounding this season’s attendees have steadily increased in volume. So much so, that I could not do other but to investigate those myself for I can confirm wether it is of great value or impact to society. So now this very author can confirm with joy that none other than Suguru Geto, heir to duke Geto, is preparing to pay his full attention on finding himself a match. Will he succeed on the mirage market though? We certainly shall see as men of the Geto household are said to be rather demanding and expectant. So far every woman that has entered into this house’s rows excelled with not only a grande skillset in music and literature but also in holding proper conversations to entertain audience. Additionally these women were able to continuously display more than perfect knowledge of their ranks in society and value to their partner. Though sir Suguru Geto holds quite the reputation for being much too prideful, causing him to be rather distant and disregarding towards others - especially those lower in rank. Will this apply to the dames and debutantes as well? We certainly will be kept on edge for this forthcoming quest.

Yours truly - Lady Whistledown

A huff escapes your mother’s lips as she laid this weeks print aside on the surface of your vanity, taking one last judging look at your appearance. A certain expression begins to take place on her visage, indicating that she is not yet fully content with your attire. Intrigued, you gather your nerves in order to speak up properly: „Mama, I fear you are not content with my looks so how may I improve them to your liking? Dare I recommend some striking jewelry?“. Your mother pauses with examining you to contemplate said thoughts of yours. After a moment of thinking, she responds: „My dear, that is certainly a sparkling idea. But what pieces shall we choose upon? We must keep your attire a certain amount of interesting, yet without making your look overbearing.“. „I share those very thoughts . As of now I dare say I look rather plain and I am afraid that colorless or neutral jewelry may not do much on improving the simplicity of my looks, instead it might further the dullness of it.“. Mindlessly you rise from your seat to leave for the room inside the manor where all the prized jewelry is stored and cared for.

As you are strutting down the hallway leading to the room, you glance over your shoulder to see your mother following suit with a pleased smile gracing her lips. Though you love your mother dearly, you can not deny the frustration lingering deep within your stomach. All throughout your life, you were raised to obey and please you parents every wishes in order to prepare you for mirage - according to Zenin’s standard of values of course. A certain amount of pressure constantly being laid upon you. You shall not disappoint and dishonor this family’s name ever by making a fool out of yourself or others. You shall experience quite the education; enough to uphold a proper conversation and interest potential suitors, enough to entertain audience with your social skillset during gatherings - but never shall you receive too much education to form a mind of your own and cause commotion with it. Do not speak up and do not talk back. Especially to your elders.

Once your reach the desired spot, you bring yourself to break away from those constricting feelings and to focus on the task at hand. Finding the right piece of jewelry is hard, especially from such a vast collection as that of your family. Rows and rows of silvers or golds either covered in sapphires, rubies, pearls, diamonds or emeralds are in front of you. Thus making it hard to choose from, especially the emeralds which your family is known for. Fully engulfed in the sheer beauty by the gems, you do not notice the presence of your brother Naoya until he clears his throat, making it known that he is in the room with you. His disapproving stare is burning through your skin, leaving residuals deep within your bones. More than enough to leave you with chills regularly.

Shaking off those unsettling stares, you redirect your attention and soon enough decide on a pair of sapphire studded earrings to try on along with a matching necklace. Once you applied the jewelry you study the improved look in the mirror, just to hear Naoya’s typical disregarding scoff: „Dear sister, I do not interfere with your looks much for neither do I care or share some interest in, though if you might ask me you should refrain from using anything blueish. It seems blue dulls your complexion by far, letting you resemble that of a corpse’s.“. „Naoya Zenin, this is certainly no way to treat a woman, especially your sister!“. „I am only stating the obvious. I am not at fault for my sister being so sensitive to critique. I suggest you improve that trait of yours instead of focussing on some jewelry in an attempt to do so with your looks. After all you did not inherit this family’s genes much; you are hideous. Your skills I will not fur-„. „Naoya Zenin, you are to leave this room immediately as I no longer tolerate such disdainful behavior! If you dare to refuse my very command then you leave me no other choice but to talk to your father regarding your allowances. In fact I will have him cut them.“. „But mother-„. „Enough! Now take your leave.“. As Naoya takes off, you relax a little. Letting out a breath you absentmindedly withheld. Though, his words keep circling your mind the time you turn your attention back to the mirror. It seems you can not let go of this hurtful comment and form judgement of your own. Sadly you do see his point, which makes you even more frustrated.

Just then you hear your father calling out for you, signaling you that you do not have much more time left to make choices. Unfortunately this only adds to your level of stress, that build up in the recent hours. So without another thought left to spare you quickly put the sapphires back in their place: „Oh mommy, this will simply not do! I hate to admit it, but my brother is right. Blue does not favor my complexion and actually makes me look like living death. Additionally it seems I do not have enough time left to make the right decision in jewelry as father already called out for me. I am afraid I will be at fault for us not making it to the announcement in time.“. „My dear do not fret too much. Sadly we do have not more time left, but I am certain you will select the right set of accessories soon. Just close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, then let your heart choose.“. Those words of wisdom offered you some reassurance and without a doubt you follow suit. Breathe in - breathe deep - breathe out et voilà, your gaze lands on emerald embedded earrings with an equally decent necklace to pair with. You can feel your whole face sparkling up upon applying them, knowing you just made the perfectly right decision. The emerald’s color accentuates your features nicely and boost your complexion. An additional prospect is that it adds some touch of color to your otherwise very dull ensemble of all white fabrics. Your mother can not help but let out a squeal of pure joy as she takes your gleeful appearance in: „My precious girl, these pieces of jewelry suit you so well! They make this whole attire of yours complete - making you shimmer like a gem yourself. A positive aspect that comes along with it is that you subtly represent your family’s color with it as well. Like a true Zenin indeed. Your father will be very pleased by that. But now we shall leave or else we might really be late.“. Just then your father calls out for you yet again, this time though you can hear the slight agitation in voice. Your mother already hushes you out the room and down the stairs, where you meet your fathers expectant gaze. „I am sorry daddy, I just put a lot of effort into looking perfectly presentable and also representable. I guess it took up more time than I initially calculated it would. I will make sure to keep that in mind the next time we will prepare for an event.“ Your fathers stern visage softens at your words: „It is alright, we are still on time though I would have appreciated it if you responded to my calls instead of letting me believe it fell to death ears. I was getting worried for a moment. Other than that I see you managed well. So far I am very content with your looks and I see that you added our house’s color to it - makes me really happy.“. Besides him is your brother trying his best to keep the already forming disgust on his face at bay. Instead in an attempt to to mask it he clears his throat, drawing the attention: „As much as I hate to interrupt this conversation, I might remind you we shall take our leave or I fear we will not arrive in time.“ Silently agreeing you step to the carriage to take a seat for the ride ahead. The ride itself is not long and also not filled with much talking as everyone is lost in their own thoughts based on the anxiety and stress swirling the air.

Though the moment you enter the grounds of the palace your thoughts seem to falter and you are mesmerized by the palace’s beauty of architecture. This interest keeps your nerves at bay until you are pulled out from your daydreams by your mother, pulling you inside the preparation room for the presentation. Your father and Naoya have split from you two prior, to secure themselves a good spot in the audience. After all Naoya still has to find himself a wife. Preparations for the parade are fleeting, only tucks and tufts of feathers and fabrics are left to do. Otherwise the looks are already set. Every young woman in attendance is clad in white, though there are attempts to from each to draw attention with details; Either with the arrangement and amount of feathers, the distinct scents of perfumes applied or the ever so bedazzling jewelry the decided on. Scanning the room, your eyes land on a head of raven hair not too far away.seeing that as your opportunity to calm your steadily rising nerves by striking up a small conversation with your friend prior to the parade. „Viscountess Iori, Utahime! It is such a delight to see you two.“. Utahime spins around, a bright smile latched on her lips: „Madame Zenin, Y/n - I am relieved to see you. Stress is steadily consuming me. So much so that for a second I felt like I was on the verge of crying.“. „I see what you are talking about, I actually feel the same way about this event and everything regarding it. Though dare I might say, that your attire is really stunning today.“. „Thank you very much, it is really kind of you. But I may say so about your ensemble as well - truly shimmering. I fear you are greater completion than I expected.“. „Truth be told, it will be very exciting for us. But I worry we are not the only ones in competence unlike lady Whistledown has reported.“ Looking around the room she agrees: „You certainly are right, I can spot several who have diamond worthy potential.“ While approximately 15 young ladies are adding finishing touches in attempts to calm their nerves, only a handful of them stand out - at least to you; one woman in particular. A striking aura to fit her upright posture, clad in a dress tailored to favor her already slander shape. Sadly your observations are disturbed by to footmen  ordering the guests into positions, announcing we will parade alphabetically. Unfortunately you are the last in line to present themselves, adding only further to the stress. You know that as time goes by, it will be harder for the queen to focus and therefore making it harder for her to decide, especially if there are several shining young ladies. So what if she has already made her choice by the time you step foot into the very hall. Your patience begins waning resulting in your posture lacking necessary tension, but your mother aside you is quick to notice and reminds you of it. After collecting yourself and fixing your posture, your name is being called - indicating for you to parade.

Once you are making your way down to the queen, you take chance to check for familiar faces. You even manage to spot your father and Naoya, some of your cousins, viscount Iori and even some dukes you have heard of, but there is someone among them who catches your eyes - one you have not seen or heard of before. Tall and lean with hair black as ink cascading down his shoulders and onto his chest. His raven hair framing his face, pulling focus on his striking features matching his even complexion. Eyes sharp and lips so soft adding to his extraordinary facial structure, one unlike any other you have seen before. As if god himself carved this very man out of marble. Simply heavenly. To your demise though he seems to notice your stare and averts his gaze somewhere into the audience, his eyes narrowing. His facial expression switching from discontent to boredom occasionally. Feeling the blush of embarrassment building on your chest, you redirect your own gaze ahead. Upon arriving in front of the queen, you present her your long practiced greeting. „My my, what do we have here? Please rise so I can take a better look.“. You follow the queens order wordlessly. „Th emeralds you wear are very dazzling. I must admit it suits you well - they are accentuating your beauty. And as I recall these emeralds equal your family’s colors, am I right?“. „Yes, your majesty.“. „Mhmm, very sparkling indeed…“. With these words you are dismissed along with the rest of society for the queen has to take a break in order to close her diamond wisely.

Seeing as your parents are pleased with your behavior, you excuse yourself to go fetch some fresh a air on the terrace. There you find Utahime and enjoy some catching up before deciding to head back inside. But you are interrupted by Naoya who stands in the entrance to the hall leading back to the ballroom, blocking you from entering. Your brother lets Utahime pass, telling her you two will follow soon after. But something is off; it is unlikely for your brother to meet you unless it is either in his favor or to torment you: „Do tell brother, what brings you outside?“. „Am i not allowed to catch a breath of fresh air myself before accompanying my dear sister back to the hall?“. „There is no problem with that, though it seems very unlike you for you to be so caring. So what do you want to tell me this time?“. „Well it is not something I want to tell you but rather something I want to question you about.“. „Alright go ahead so we can return as fast as possible, I am sure the queen will announce the diamond soon.“. „Well then, what happened during the parade?“. Taken aback, you respond confused: „I do not know what your speaking of? I paraded perfectly, no tripping or loss of balance.“. Naoya begins to circle you, mustering you: „Hard for me to admit, but you did. Though I did not meant that. What I want to know is what your relationship with him is?“. „What do you mean? Which relationship? With whom?“. Naoya stops in front of you, taking a step closer to you: „Do not play dumb. I am speaking of Suguru Geto!“. „I swear I do not know whom you are talking about. I have not heard of a so called `Suguru Geto´ except in lady Whistledown’s article, I do not even know what he looks like.“. „Oh sister, this will not do so let me rephrase my question. The raven haired man I saw you staring at earlier - what is your relation to him?“. You scoff at his ridiculousness, deciding it is enough you make way for the hallway. „I am tired of this nonsense so I will return on my own.“. Stepping in, Naoya threatens you: „You will not or else I will share my suspicions with the rest of the family and ruin your very being like no-one else will. So tell me, are you involved in an affair with this man?“. „No, i am not involved with this man or anyone. I would not ever dare to even think about adultery. Are you content now?“. „No, no, no… then why was there a bush all over you? This usually only happens when two parties engaged in improper activities before…“. „Or this happens out of embarrassment. Embarrassment of him catching me staring.“. „But that is exactly what I was talking about? If you keep avoiding me, then I am afraid you leave me no there choice but to walk up to-„.

Luckily your father disrupts the two of you tough upon seeing the anger splashed across his face, you consider yourself not so lucky anymore: „Young lady just what do you think you are doing here? Catching some fresh air? Or rather having a chat with your brother? Whatever it is ends now and so does your reckless behavior. Just this morning I thought you will not cause commotion for once, but I was disappointed yet again. You missed the announcement - missed the chance of becoming the diamond and making up for all your missteps along the way. This will have consequences; for the both of you! Naoya you should only fetch her so why did I end up doing it myself instead?“. Naoya is the first to speak up: „I am sorry father, but she just threw a fit and got me involved into this. I am innocent, I swear!“. „Spare all your excuses for later, when we will discuss this thoroughly. Now let us return to the hall and fetch your mother. She already took over and congratulated the diamond in our name.“. Leaving you no option, he drags you down the hall way and into the ballroom to fetch your mother rather quickly before scurrying off into the carriage. The carriage ride home is filled with your father’s rage on what happened at the announcement. Your mother sits in silence besides him, disappointment all across her face and it does not seem to leave until hours later. Once your father finished with scolding you and your brother, you apologize thoroughly without trying to explain yourself as it will not change the situation for the better. Instead it will only worsen it, potentially earning you more punishment. When nothing else is left to say, your mother rises from her seat and takes word: „Although it was quite disappointing you were not elected as diamond of the season for obvious reasons, this situation does have it’s positive aspects. While I was engaging in conversations earlier, in the over heard people’s whispers about you. It seems that you have received the title of ´the emerald of the season´ from society. Many were mesmerized by you, at least that is what I heard duke Nanami say.“. Your fathers sour expression lifts to one a little lighter: „Well if that is not a pleasant surprise. So then you may get ready for we have to present the emerald at duke Gojo’s ball.“. With that you are dismissed from this family’s gathering, allowing you to get ready for the masquerade ball ahead. Though this time everything ran quicker and more smoothly.

So you find yourself in the carriage once more, this time though on your way to the Gojo estate. The ride itself is not as suffocating as the one before, letting you relax a little for all the dancing that will happen soon enough. Several minutes later you find yourself switching between conversations and dances with potential suitors. But not one who catches your eyes in sight, much to your disappointment. Otherwise everything is well; no man causes some sort of commotion by misbehavior and no one is making you uncomfortable. So far a good start into festivities. Engaging in social activities like this one does tire you out, you need to admit. So in order to clear your mind a bit and regain some energy, you decide to take a quick stroll around the hallways of the estate. You are aware that this behavior is not accepted in society but no one is there to catch or judge you because they are in fact all present inside the ballroom. So when you see a pair of doors ajar, you pay no mind and enter quickly. Inside your met with shelves full of books. And before you can skim through some,  you light a few candles to be able to read. What you do not see though is someone slipping inside behind you, keeping watchful gaze on your every move.

a/n: publishing the first chapter has been a wild ride y'all - from my laptop not allowing me to copy and paste to tumblr being a lil' bitch about the format of the text. i had like seven mental breakdowns until I could finally publish lol 🥹 - but @fushitoru was there to save my ass. thank you looks - I appreciate you looking out for me🫶🏻. now on to the other matter; I added a taglist. so if you want to be added please notify or message me - don't be shy 😌

taglist: @tiramisuandlove @gojouology @not-ur-average-fangirl /taglist is open!

[ataraxiaspainting]

Presentiment of Massacre.

Yan Geto x F Reader.

Synopsis: Of all the people in your village, why were you the only one spared?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, major spoilers for the start of JJK S2, some not SFW implications, and violence/slight gore.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

“You can see them, can’t you?”

The man is tall, so much taller, so much taller than you who is curled up into a ball in the corner of your home, to hide, an intention that was more or less popped like a balloon. He is so much taller than the corpses littering the floor with their blood, their vomit, their tears. Gazing at the disarray with a mix of revulsion and frustration, he found himself devoid of any trace of it on his person, his exasperation evident as he muttered the word monkeys repeatedly along with quick, muffled talks of cleaning and baths and stains.

“Miss. You can see them, can’t you? The beings around us.”

As he receives no response once more, he pivots. A terrifying grin adorns his face, an unsettling visage that seems to transcend the boundaries of humanity. It appears as if it is a mere appendage, capable of detachment at whim, akin to a magnet or a metallic fragment. This facade, a deceptive guise, conceals the malevolent demon lurking beneath its surface.

“...I… Please… Please just ge-”

“Answer my question.” Interrupting, he maintains a sickeningly warm smile and tone, though his words possess an entirely different temperature. They are demanding. Frigid. For nothing burns quite like the icy cold. “I know you can, from the way you are looking around the room and hiding. Stop pretending you can’t.”

Even when his gaze was averted, his vigilance never wavered, always deciphering the motives behind your awkward, apprehensive behavior. He possesses an uncanny ability to interrogate as if presiding over a courtroom, posing probing inquiries that unveil the heart of the matter. Every response you offer seems to hold the power to determine your verdict: a life of freedom, confinement, or even death.

Opting for honesty may prove beneficial. It could potentially strengthen your position, although there are no guarantees. Contemplating the act of praying, you ponder its efficacy, hoping for assistance from any divine entity that may exist. You certainly wouldn't want to become another disfigured body within the grasp of the beast behind the man's monstrous jaws.

So, after weighing all of this out, your lips part instinctively.

“Ah, I knew it. Unlike these monkeys, you are worthy.” As a reaction to those two sentences, about a million thoughts and questions sprout in your mind. “You will be spared if you join us. You do not want to be rotting on top of these filthy monkey corpses, do you?”

In an instant, you vigorously shake your head, causing a fleeting sense of dizziness, as you promptly respond to his inquiry this time.

“I’ll… I’ll… do it.” As anticipated, the act of surrendering proved to be a complex experience, simultaneously challenging and effortless. This situation resembles a collision of opposing forces, resulting in a powerful and explosive event. However, due to an innate instinct and the familiarity acquired from past encounters with your inebriated father, you find yourself succumbing once again. “Anything.” You don’t think of saying that word specifically, and you regret it later than sooner. “Just… Just please. I want to live.”

A gentle pull brings you to your feet as his hand reaches out to grasp yours.

“I am glad you accepted my conditions. Very glad.” The man brushes his side bang out of his face, his grip becoming slightly looser. “I am Suguru, Suguru Geto. Now, what is your name, my new recruit?”

“...[First].” You whisper your name so softly, questioning whether Geto caught it. “Do I… Do I have to use that too? Because…”

“No, you don’t. Though if you want you can be taught to wield something, something weaker than this.”

He responded to your question as if you were a young child inquiring about the purchasing of infants from a retail establishment. “...But do I have to?”

Geto shook his head and called the beast with two waving fingers. It is a dragon, you think, from how long it is and how it has large white scales, even whiter teeth, and long golden hair partially stained red, and how its large blue eyes stared into your soul.

“That depends on the future.” He says, his grip dwindling even further. The monster disappears with another wave of his hand. He chuckles. “Depends mainly on what you do, and why you do it.”

“…What do you think I would do?”

“You’re not good at hiding your emotions, you know.” Something creeps up your thigh, and before you have the chance to scream he puts his hand on your mouth and his other hand grabs one of your arms. “That gives way to not being able to hide your plans very well. You’re planning on running the first chance you get, aren’t you? Before you do such a silly little thing, I must tell you that I can give you protection, and luxuries beyond your imagination… everyone and everything will bow down to you.”

He looks down at the slimy red thing with at least six eyes, the build and size similar to that of a basketball. Its lips were sucking on your flesh with words like love leaving them in between moments. That was the answer to your unspoken question.

“All you have to do is follow me, okay? No matter where I go, follow me. Do that, and your life will be so much better.”

From the look in his eyes, you already know he had already made the decision for you.