#★ out for a spell | out of character

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 22ND ★ SOMNOPHILIA - seishiro nagi .ᐟ

[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO SLEEPING BEAUTY ] once upon a time, a brave knight, destined to marry someone she’d never met, says fuck it and plans to reap the rewards of saving the prince from eternal slumber. without realising that he’s already awake… ( 8.8K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters in their 20s, sleeping beauty!au, somnophilia, hold the moan, overstimulation, cockwarming, dacryphilia, outer-course, handjobs, blowjobs, pussyjobs, free use, dub con, cumplay, creampies, not beta read, knight + fem!reader, aurora!seishiro nagi.

✧ fairy godmother's note - this is so late i'm so sorry, i think i might start posting kinktober towards the end of the week and into november, enjoy me loves. miss u loads! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

you hardly remember the day that prince nagi was born — despite most definitely being there for the ceremony that commemorated it. at the time, you were hardly out of your own leading strings, still babbling dumbly and clinging to your mother’s garments whenever someone poked their nose in your face. obviously far too young to remember the curse placed on him by that wicked witch maleficent. 

prince seishiro nagi was beloved by all and affection for him was widespread throughout the kingdom. he was born deep into the night, at a time where the sky had been painted with deep blue and midnight hues, with hair as silky and pale as the silver moon and eyes like the glittering starry sky. so they said. at least that’s what your been told. while present at the time, you would hardly know — you were too young to remember how he looked nor the very moment you were promised to him as a baby yourself. 

from the moment you were born, your fate was signed away before your very first breath and once you arrived and took two steps you were instantly reared to become prince seishiro’s future wife. to help join two kingdoms in harmonious union. from the moment you could talk, you’d spent your entire life training to become the wife of a man you hardly knew. there were lessons in perfect posture, dainty dancing and simple sewing. not to mention how to serve a king and please a husband  — who apparently had unnatural beauty, the softest voice and the kindest of hearts. outside of nagi, you hadn’t a single hobby or interest that didn’t concern him, solely born and bred for his best interest. how were you supposed to know if any of those spoken traits were really true and not just word of mouth when nobody had any idea where the prince actually was. 

rumour had it, that the silver haired royal had been whisked away to the woods to be raised by the very fairies that blessed him — with hopes of avoiding maleficent’s malevolent curse in which seishiro was destined to prick his finger on a poisoned spinning wheel by age twenty three. in an attempt to undo the wicked spell, the fairies had combined their magic and made it so that only a true love's kiss would be able to wake up their beloved prince. which soon became your duty, by the time you came of age too. 

since then, and for twenty two years after, there was not a peep from the prince — to his people and his kingdom, he’d practically vanished overnight, becoming one with the moon and stars they prayed to each night. holding out hope for his return to the throne. 

in turn, you had no idea when your duty would come to fruition. maleficent's thunderous mountain, shrouded in a thick layer of green, jealous smog that was sure to suck the life from any innocent soul still raged on — meaning her curse hadn’t come true. she still hadn’t found the prince. no one had.

no one except for you. 

unknowingly, you’d met nagi humming amongst pointed shrubbery and wild flowers deep in the forest — absentmindedly complaining about tne berries he was forced to forage for his uncles back home. for you, it was instant, as though an invisible force had drawn you two him like the the two poles of a magnet. prince seishiro was a sight to behold, even before you knew who he was, the timbre trill of his voice filled you with a wave of unfamiliar butterflies that battled their way into your throat — trapping your voice. his eyes were an enchanting pool of riches, frightened of your presence at first, but filled with stripes of silver you were sure had to be stolen from the moon. 

for you, it was love at first sight. a powerful urge to be near him building up in your lungs like fluid in a sick person. you were sure he felt the same — the emotion obvious in the way he tentatively touched you as you talked about nothing and everything at all. the way he swooped down to your height to listen to tales of land and fortune he could only have dreamed of.

in those hours that you spent alone together; pressed into one another’s side’s amongst intertwined tree branches like two lovers' limbs after a night of improper passion  — you’d felt the most seen you had in all your life. for the first time in forever, someone saw you as more than just a bargaining chip or a trophy to be paraded around royal courts in honour of union. someone saw you as a whole, read your story from start to finish and still wanted to know more. you weren’t just a knight made to save a prince. to nagi, you were so much more.

and to you, nagi was a breath of fresh air — someone who craved a more exciting life rather than being banished to a life of greenery and foliage. despite his charming air of laziness and naivety, he expressed to you a burning sense of eager deep within. it was innocent, inquisitive but nagi’s thoughts called out to you like the bird song of two mates. the worlds you came from were different, clearly, but you just made sense to one another.

but back then, in those quiet moment with your head on his shoulder and nothing but the sound of oak leaves swaying in the gentle summer breeze — you’d had no idea that the silver haired stranger was just prince seishiro living under a different name. you thought him a commoner and he thought you a random huntress on a horse. no one had any idea that he was the crown prince, that he’d been snuck back into the castle on the day of his twenty third birthday to regain his title and his crown… only to be lulled by the cruel call of a sinister stranger  shortly — pricking his finger just like maleficent had planned. 

you were meant to marry. you were supposed to go back for seishiro and run away together, live apart from the expectations bestowed upon you as children. unfortunately, you wouldn’t find out until returned to the spot where you’d first met him, and were met with the face of the villain herself. instead of your lover. that’s when you realised the gravity of it all. who seishiro was. who you were meant to be. 

deep down, you knew this was a love too sacred to pass by, and with the white haired prince counting on you —  you would do everything in your power to save him. save the prince and the kingdom from sleeping soundly for the next one hundred years.

with the help of the fairies who raised nagi, you were able to take down the terrible maleficent — grateful that your parents had at least made you handy with a sword. through the flames of the beast above you, you wielded your weapon with a strength and bravery that would go down into the history books of lands far and wide. killing maleficent in the form of the dragon had been no easy feat but you fought, with screaming muscles and a bloody face — fulfilling the duty you had been born to do. trained to do. for nagi and for your kingdom. 

the difference was, this time, you were doing all of this for love. not just for honour.

after winning the flaming battle, you staggered your way through the kingdom despite your burns and free bleeding wounds, making your way up to the tower where your silver-moon haired lover slept. part of you felt envious of the slumbering kingdom, the eternal rest they had slipped under while your body burned and ached with every step that you took… but as soon as you laid eyes on your handsome prince — sleeping like a fallen angel crowned by scattered lights. the glinting particles of dust forming a shining halo over his sleep the steel hair. 

the beat of your heart quickens as you approach the bed tucked deep within his quarters — rivalling the speed of the finest royal race horse and the world completely falls away until the all that remains are you and seishiro. your prince. your love. even while he sleeps, he’s unfairly handsome, grey lashes dusted with starlight just barely brushing the apples of his milky-toned cheeks, his hair curls against his forehead and his lips, rose-tinted, part with each gentle exhale his body takes to keep him alive. without even thinking, your finger trails the slopes and contours of nagi’s delicate features, brushing over his Cupid’s bow that seems damp with the condensation of his warm breaths. the sensation stokes a fire within you while your mind wanders to less than pleasant thoughts.

how would his lips feel if you were to kiss him? how would they taste? how would seishiro kiss you back? the questions swirl around in the calcium cage of your skull like a storm untapped, fuelled by the remnants of adrenaline that simmers in your veins from the fight. it would be wrong, to do what you’re thinking of doing — to press your lips to the seam of his and run your tongue every inch in his hot mouth, behind his teeth and over his own pink muscle. maybe even to cup his throat and feel every breath he takes. it would be so wrong… and yet, your moral compass and previous duties seem to be out of working order, thus, losing the war the flickering desirous flame within you. one that rivals the breath of the dragon slaid outside.

no one would really care if you were to have the way with the crown prince. after all, you would need to be rewarded for your self sacrifice and service to the kingdom that could have very well been burned to the ground if it hadn’t been for your bravery. you deserved this, you deserved him and the chance to appease your growing appetite for the sleeping beauty before you. right now, there were no barriers… no servants and squires and maids or men to tell you what was proper of a knight or of a promised woman, and there certainly weren’t any barriers to the body of the silver haired prince. without any blankets, there wasn’t much to stop you from trailing a hand over seishiro’s clothed stomach and over the hills of his princely dress pants.

your fingertips grazed the taut muscles of his thick thighs as you teased yourself. teased the slumbering royalty. daring tug at the belt loops and thick leather her bound his trousers to his unfairly slender waist. with your lip caught between the sharp edge of your teeth, you unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants inch by inch, a tidal wave of goosebumps erupting over the surface of your body like freshly plucked chicken skin as you reveal more and more of his milky, toned flesh. he’s smooth all over, blueish veins apparent as they spiral underneath his skin, but nagi is just as soft as you remember, as warm brushing up against you as he was the day you first met in the woods.

saliva spreads across your tongue like a sheet of rain during a storm or a flash flood when his undergarments come down with the hem of his trousers, revealing a snow white path of pubic hair that curls prettily against his pelvis. there’s a craving for more that sloshes into the dips and deficits of your brain, like a dark haze that shrouds your brain in nothing but lust — so you act on the feeling, pulling more and more fabric away from seishiro’s most intimate parts until his cock, half hard and already leaking, is able to spring free. 

the sleeping beauty’s breath hitches and catches on the edges of his throat as his hard-on first hits the cool air shrouding his chambers. whatever preconceived notion you’d had of the prince’s body beforehand is quickly tossed away when you finally set your sights on his girth — he is as long as he is thick, chubby against the softness of his tummy with a pink tip that already oozes a thick stream of cream caused by the ghost of your touch over him. a warmth spreads through your entire body, an urge to taste him washing over you in a poor attempt to cool your need down. if you taste him, would that be part of your reward? would it matter to anyone if you put your mouth on the prince while he innocently slept… especially after you’d saved everyone?

you still cannot find it within yourself to care. 

perhaps the wounds maleficent inflicted upon you have left traces of her bad energy, for you continue to disregard your own morals and good intentions by crawling onto nagi’s bed ( careful with your movements while he shifts in his slumber ) and you keep your touch tender when taking him into your hold, the supple pads of your fingers wrapping around the length of the prince’s shaft while you smooth the pad of your thumb into the slit on his cockhead. rubbing the precum into it sweetly. now up close and personal with his most intimate parts, you’re able to catch the scent of nagi… which only worsens your hunger for him. he smells so good, the musky scent of his arousal almost sending your eyes into the back of your skull — acting like fumes of a pretty wildflower in the forest you once met. 

it hypnotises you, takes over your every thought and action in the heat of the moment. every sensation you once felt is now heightened by your own arousal, the feeling of your tongue behind your teeth and the silken sheets against your knees and the blistering temperature of seishirou’s girth in your palm. adjusting your grip on him to something more firm, soft little hands dwarfed by the sheer size and thickness of him, and accidentally pull a tiny moan from your sleeping lover. any trepidation mingling with the air in your lungs is quickly eradicated once you finally give in, flicking your tongue over the cream gathering at nagi’s mushroomed cockhead that burns a painful shade of deep red.

opening your mouth, you take seishiro down your throat as though it’s the easiest thing in the world, your tongue flexing against the bluish purple forked veins that spiral down his heavy shaft. all you want to do is make him harder, feel the blood rush from his slumbering brain to his balls so you can take him properly, elsewhere, later on. what doesn’t fit past the seams of your chapped lips, you continue to palm, setting a steady pace to the rhythm of your hands jerking the silver-haired prince off. its slick and easy, aided by the thick globs of precum that spill over your knuckles and sink into the lines in your palms — seishiro may be asleep, but his body reacts, hips bucking into your closed fist while he squeaks and sighs lazily. 

his head remains tacked to the pillow tucked behind it, starlight locks splayed out across the cooling silk fabric — perfectly tousled despite being slightly out of place as he writhes under the sinful prison of your hot, wet mouth. even you have to moan as you sink down on him, his heavy and pulsating balls meeting your chin while your nose nudges the prickliness of his happy trail. if he were awake, you wonder if nagi would be the type to coax you through giving him head — soft whimpers glossed in his lips while those moonshine grey eyes hold your gaze. or would he push your head down on him and fuck your mouth lazily as though it were another hole to fill with his cum.

part of you wants to rouse him right now, with the kiss of true love the fairies said would work on him, but only to hear how much louder he’d cry and moan for you. you want to hear how the Prince would praise you for taking him so well, slurping the early seed from his tip and hollowing your perfect pudgy cheeks as you gargle him down your eager throat. your imagination runs ahead of your actions as you bob your head faster and faster without regard for your lover sleeping soundly above you lewd slurping sounds echo throughout the room as you picture him looking down at you with flushed cheeks and lidded moonlit eyes — coaxing you to take more of him. 

the heat between your thighs returns, an unbearable searing ache pulsating through your clit as blood carrying lust and other happy hormones shoot straight to it. in one swift motion, you shove a single hand past the waistband of your own pants and undergarments to toy with the sensitive bud, smearing whatever remained of his precum and pre-release against your awaiting cunt. your eyes flutter shut at the taste and heaviness of nagi on your tongue, his viscous arousal flowing down your throat in saltine waves. the flavour was addictive and you found yourself bobbing your head faster, and faster — matching it to the pace at which you stroked your own sticky slit.

lavishly, you run your tongue back and forth over the opening of seishiro’s bulbous cockhead, humming happily around his thick shaft when he involuntarily bucks into the hellish fire of your mouth — it makes your heart swell to know that his body is reacting to you and you alone, how it could very well be this way for the rest of your lives. while you hump your own fingers, their tips pruning with how wet you are as you circle your clit, the sleepy beauty’s balls batter your chin as his taut hips thrust upwards instinctively to chase your dripping tongue and mouth.

drool pours from the corners of it, just as you leak against the seat of your panties — your juices hot and viscous while you finger fuck yourself and get off to the sensation of blowing the sleepy prince while he rests. everything is so sloppy, so messy and wet and you can’t help but to spit down on nagi as his dick swells against your tongue, the frothy mixture clinging to the prominent blood flushed veins that sprinkle from the tip down to his base. 

your release sneaks up on you like a silent figure in the night; hiding from the moonlight and a dirty moan slips from between your lips as you let go of your lover with a lewd pop, your jaw aches deliciously and your tongue is sore from running circles over his tip — as is your wrist from being down your pants to bully shapes into your clit but you don’t mind the pain, it’s all worth it to make yourself feel good. to make nagi feel good so you can use him later on, turning him from a prince into a sex doll. dopamine continues to spark across your brain as you switch from sucking to jerking nagi off, keeping the rhythm of your slick palm wrapped around him in tune with the one that rolls your clit between your fingertips and pinches your swollen folds. 

you don’t last much longer, not when you’re able to watch the moonlit prince fall apart above you even when the depths of sleep cling to the fine lines of his soul. the last remaining thread of your sanity snaps before you’re cumming against your own digits, gushing through the gusset of your panties and straight through the layer or your pants — even while you shiver and shake from the force of your own orgasm, you manage to find a the mobility to tap nagi’s cockhead lewdly against your pink tongue, grinning with an open mouth as his own orgasm rips through his unconscious form. 

warm and viscous seed paints a pretty picture against your strawberry tastebuds as it spurts copiously from his ravaged, fully erect cock. even hitting the back of your throat. 

but it’s not enough, it’s still not enough. a fire of desire still burns bright inside of you and nagi is still as hard as a rock in your hand. so you don’t see a point in stopping, not when you still want him and he clearly still wants you. 

in a whirlwind of fabric, you quickly abandon the lower half of your clothes — even though your legs are violently shaking and there’s a fizz in your brain that makes your vision go blurry from your orgasm, you find the strength to clamber into the prince’s lap and straddle him. a pulse of excitement runs through you as your bare ass meet his half dressed thighs and you set your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself above him. you’re barely able to contain the wavering moan that rumbles in the back of your throat as seishiro’s erection jumps against your sluice sex, as if coaxing you to lower yourself down onto him.

without an air of guilt, you do just that; indulging your sleeping lover’s underlying plea as you slip a hand between your temperate bodies to position his creamy cock at your weeping entrance — you run it back and forth over your slit a few times whilst holding back a quivering hiss, letting him dip in and out of your unused hole. you can’t help but squeak adorably when you start to rock your hips down, sucking him in and stretching over the thick circumference of his tip. you even manage to clench down on seishiro, trapping him inside with each inch you manage to take.

your head hangs low and you steady yourself against nagi again; nails forming pink crescent moons against his pearlescent skin because you’re not sure how much of this burn you can take. he’s so big, yet his cock is so helpless against your sticky walls — it’ll take a lot of work just to reach the hilt. “oh, fuck,” you whimper to yourself quietly, not wanting to be caught taking advantage of the kingdom’s slumbering royalty. you try to stablwlisw your breathing, hold onto your sanity by only fucking yourself over his tip because right now… it’s all you can manage. getting used delicious stretch to your pussy and the resistance of your hole as nagi slips into your tightness. 

in order to ground yourself, you press yourself against the moonlit prince until you’re both chest to chest — allowing your body to relax against is as you slide further down his cock. and, with this change in position, you easily dot feather light kisses from the pale skin, unmarked skin of seishiro’s neck up to his jawline — licking the light layer of perspiration that added diamonds to his skin. his pulse is slow, languid under your lips, just as the rise and fall of his chest is. nagi still sound asleep as you bathed his cock in all of your syrupy wetness. eventually, you reach his lips and hardly hesitate in kissing them, lapping over the seam of them with your tongue as if you’re asking for entrance when you don’t really need to.

not when his body is so willing to give into you, even while seishiro rests.

you swear you feel his lips twitch apart against your own, parting specifically for you to pour your withering moans into him and breathe life into his unconscious soul — your tongue licks at his, relishing in the flavour and slight sweetness to his mouth, letting it distract you from the twinge between your thighs as you finally seat yourself on his girth fully; breeders balls nestled comfortably against the curve of your ass. a feeling of content washes over you, feeling the chubbiness of his girth press hotly against your ribbed walls that catch on his prominent veins there. 

panting lightly, a ripple of desire is the next sensation that you feel, experimentally clenching around the prince below you — bottoming out as your cunt drools down on him. somehow, you find the strength in your thighs to lift your hips and thrust back down, a wet slap bouncing off of all four walls in response. it’s insane how tight, warm and wet you are — how thick, heavy and nagi is, constantly pressed up against your g-spot before you’ve really even moved. you splutter and hiccup as you begin the slow bounce of your hips and allow yourself the grace to accommodate for your sleeping lover’s size, his bright red and possibly overstimulated cockhead nudging feverishly against the pleasure spots that decorate your temperate silken walls. 

“…gods,” comes your shaky voice, trapped behind the prison of your teeth in a weak attempt to hold in your moans. “s-seishiro, f-feel so good…” though you speak to no one in particular, using the sound of your own wailing voice to get yourself, you can feel the white-haired royal underneath you buck upwards as though he wants to fuck you back — driven by tired strings of lust and desire as though he’s a puppet on a set of strings for your own pleasure. collapsing forward, you nestle your head underneath his chin so that the only part of your body moving is your hips working up and down on nagi’s pulsating cock at break-neck speeds. in this position, your murky breaths of exertion coast over his pearlescent skin and your eyes grow misty at the perfect angle. your stream of thrusts are constant like a rushing river, allowing his bulbous leaky tip to barrage into your sex and pull squelching, lewd noises from your poor pussy.

you’re already so sensitive, it’d be a miracle if you last much longer riding your lover like this and to your heart’s content. slumped over him, chewing on your chapped lips to hide the debauched noises that slosh over your tongue and are churned up in your mouth with the drool there. it’s pathetic, really, but your mind is too hazy and high on the drug of ecstasy to care. to pacify yourself and the growing fire that burns the butterflies in your tummy, you switch from bouncing on his fat girth to grinding against it, dancing with your partner in a sensual sticky grind where only you are able to lead. every stroke of his cock within your sluice, pulsating walls makes it harder for you to keep quiet or keep still — the bed creaking beneath the weight of your movement becomes a loud wail and harmonises perfectly with the tune or skin slapping on skin and your pathetic bleats of bliss. 

sweat from the exertion of pounding your mound down on the curve of his cock begins to bead at your hairline, pearling in opaque orbs that form your own halo. one that belongs to a fallen angel. it drips down the side of your face onto the prince below you, another way that you mark him, just as your juices do — droplets of it trailing down his shaft, balls and even his ass. if someone were to walk in now, they’d set their sights on an obscene display of sin, their perfect prince defiled by his knight to be, but you don’t care, your mind and exhausted limbs buzzing with wanton. you’ll use him until cum, claim your prize and work your selfish pussy over him until you know every constellation by heart because of how many times you’ve used seishiro to make yourself see stars.

every sensation overwhelms you, the creamy and tackiness to his cock between your slicked up thighs and the pressure of his purpling cockhead as it digs disgustingly against your g-spot in the most perfect of ways because you clench down on him every now and again. static rings loud in your ears that burn with both shame and lechery for taking advantage of your sleeping lover, the notes from the tune your fat pussy pap-pap-papping as it connects with stitchers of nagi’s bare flesh has a tingling sensation spreading under your skin too. even when he bucks instinctively into you, your entire body jolts in response because there’s no greater relief than knowing that you are yearned for… even within the clutches of unconsciousness.

when nagi whimpers in his sleep, you have to bite his shoulder — keeping your wailing mouth occupied even if you’ll leave teeth marks against him in place. someone could hear the way you beg him to fuck you, muffling yourself as you whisper dirty fantasies to yourself and split your swollen nether lips open on his drippy dick. you’re not sure if that is a good or bad thing to want, to be heard.  “f-fuck me sei… p-please my prince,” everything feels so depraved and so wrong, while you whine sweetly against saltine skin. however, you don’t see yourself stopping — not until you can no longer feel your legs from riding him and your cunt aches from cumming so hard. “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

the back and forth of your sluice sex over nagi’s lap tampers with your system, sending orgasmic shockwaves down your spine and happy hormones into your bloodstream. you alternate, once more peeling your soaked thighs away from his and lift your fluttering entrance higher and higher up his shaft until there’s barely an inch of the white haired royal left inside of you. the emptiness makes you miss him, a choked sob weaving its way like a vine through the gaps in your ribs as it claws its way out of your throat. it’s a shuddering noise that you suppress by locking lips with seishiro again, wet on the seam of them as you lift your head to kiss him. 

“i wanna cum, nagi!”

the words are just about to melt in his mouth but…

…but euphoria is quick to slip into your veins like a welcomed chill on a hot day when nagi suddenly rouses from his slumber — following a natural compulsion to snap his hips upwards with a powerful force and filling you in one fluid motion. he’s awake. one of his hands, extremely strong and veiny and firm takes you by surprise as it clamps down on the back of your neck  so that he can keep you in place too. it was almost as if he was chasing the snugness of your oozing, squelchy mound. an incredulous gasp drifts warmly from your mouth and condenses in nagi’s, for a second you worry that he might push you off and yell for help… but recognition registers on the slope of his handsome features. 

he’s awake…how long has seishiro been awake? 

moonlight lashes flutter against your face from your proximity and murky grey eyes, littered with exhaustion between their flecks, light up with a sprinkling of hearts as then open to look at you. slowly but surely their gaze drifts downwards, honing in on the point at which his milky cock repeatedly disappears into your puffy pussy, the glaze of your essence on his rock hard cock and clinging to his pubes put on display. 

groaning hoarsely and deeply, nagi’s freehand shoots down to the bouncing flesh of your ass without a lick of hesitation and pulls you the rest of the way down his pulsing girth. then up again. then back down — giving him all of the control to pummel your pussy to the high heavens. hard and fast. “i thought… thought you wanted to cum,” the moonlit prince mumbles, voice still puppeteered by the last strings of sleep. “don’t make it a hassle by holding back now… fuck your self down on my cock ‘n cum…”

he’s awake… how much of this has seishiro been awake for? 

nagi builds up a formidable momentum inside of you, dragging his seedy tip along your ravaged walls, shocking for someone who had essentially just woken up from a curse of eternal slumber. he doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve been using him like a toy for your own sexual desires, but how could he? not when you’re dousing him in your sweet nectar, slapping your soaked sex down on him and squeezing his aching shaft just like that. how can a man, no less a prince, whine about waking up to such a good fuck?

all you can do is reply with a high pitched squeal, your body jerking and jolting on top of nagi as you struggle to keep up with thrusts. “come now, don’t make me do all of the work,” white starts to froth at the base of his cock, bubbling up while it streaks over your ruined pussy lips and clit. “after all, you started this… took advantage of me while i slept. s’only fair, angel,” he adds nonchalantly and makes you gush unbelievable amounts of arousal at the condescending air about his words.

he’s awake and now seishiro wants you to cum for him.

you do try your very best to do as nagi says, selfishly squeezing down on him and locking his precum bleeding tip inside your gummy walls, but your hips fumble their rhythm as soon as he looks up at you — sweaty hair splayed out in the sheets like an angel, lips parted in both curiosity and awe, cock bulging in your lower stomach. you’re choking the life out of seishiro and he likes it, feeling like he’s been rewarded for just being a pretty prince. 

all you want is for him to make you scream and squirt — your clit smears against his pelvis while you buck down on him feverishly. he barely lets you lift of his erection at this point. “‘m close… s-seishiro, please! c-can’t…”

it’s the first time you’ve spoken his name directly to him since your love-at-first-sight encounter in the woods and it flips a switch in the peaceful prince of the night. “y-yeah you can, angel. of course you can…” with a breathy, almost whiny moan, seishiro uses his newfound energy to assault your cunt with a barrage of wild thrusts. jackhammering into you, jerking you about on his throbbing length, coated in a milky mix of your shared arousals. “had no problem… fixing yourself on my cock before. ‘m sure you can make yourself cum on it now that i’m here to help,” he adds through gritted teeth, never letting up on his incredible speed. “shouldn’t be a hassle.” 

that’s all you really need to hear before you’re thrown into the deep end, the dark abyss of the night. while the ropes in your tummy unravel and unwind, the tune of sinful sex reaches its final crescendo and the world around you fades away as you’re thrown over the edge and temporarily black out — you practically squirt in an aggressive, clear stream and renders you a cum soaked mess in the prince’s lap. he forces your head into the junction between his neck and jaw, utilising his hold on you to help muffle the scream that burns at the sore edges of your voice as you cum for him. practically drowning nagi in everything you have to give. 

as if chasing something, your lover speeds up his thrusts, trying to make sure he isn’t left behind while you cum for him. growls and grunts spill over his lips, nagi’s pink tongue darting out the flavour you’d left on him as he slept. he buries himself deep inside of you, lunging into that one special spot nestled deep within your walls so that he can prolong your release — working hard even though he was just roused from what seemed like an eternal night.

the aftershocks of your high and heavenly spasms of your hole around nagi simply aren’t enough to satisfy him however — whatever remains of an orgasm he had coming fade away like embers of a dying flame while you come down. in fact, before you can even collapse on the white haired royal fully, he uses a strength you were unaware that he possessed to immediately flip you onto your back — manhandling you into the position he desires most. your thighs pushed together, knees pushed into your chest and him… towering over you menacingly.

only now do you realise how… large seishiro is. how much more dominant he is over you. how it may have been a mistake to think you could steal pleasure from him while he slept as a personal reward and not expect consequence. or at least a consequence you might enjoy too. “such a waste,” he comments groggily, pulling his cream soaked cock from its home within your pretty pussy with a hiss. using one hand, nagi grabs at his ravaged shaft and taps it against the swell of your thighs pushed together. “how can you use me like that…and still fail to make me cum? i’ll have to do it myself. what a bother, angel.”

your breath catches in your throat, indicating your surprise. “seishiro…w-wait,” you plead, lips parting in a quiet moan at every squeeze of your flesh and tug of hips to get your body into place. you don’t even know what you’re asking for or why you’re asking him to stop, you still don’t care about the consequences. all you want is for the sleeping beauty above you to fall apart, to hear your name on the tip of his tongue, to feel him cum wherever that may be. “‘m sorry…i-i didn’t know you were awake!”

“don’t care darlin’,” seishiro’s breathy words hang between the pearliness of his teeth, shaggy hair tickling the skin on your calves as he positions them over his shoulders instead of in the air. “don’t r’member much… just my finger gettin’ pricked ‘n then you… using me. on top of me…” his cock makes a home between your plush thighs, pushing back and forth against the flesh to relieve his painfully hard erection. the action itself paints the canvas of your body with remainders of your arousal and essence — thick stringy globs of white forming tracks against soft skin. “f-fuck angel, you put in all this work to make yourself cum using me… now it’s my turn.” 

eyes that mirror the silver light of the moon flutter shut and nagi’s nose judges against your ankle — lips grazing the pointed bone and in their wake leave a trail of inflamed bites from where he leaves his mark on you, hoping that they’ll be present on the morning to remind you of who you belong to. his pink tongue peeks out to lick, loll over and soorje what he nips at, but the wet sensation doesn’t distract from curious finger tips that dance their way down and pinch your arousal soaked, fat folds together. neediness streams into your tone as you whimper out for more and your hips arch up to chase the feeling. 

in response a lazy grin twitches at the corner of your prince’s mouth, playing with the tackiness your cunt leaves against his hand before he spreads it over his bright red tip as lube. “quit squirming angel, s’too much of a bother to keep you pinned down,” seishiro then adjusts his knees on the bed and his hips begin to brutally rut into you, dragging his sloppy length back and forth, back and forth through the makeshift pocket pussy he’s made out of your quivering limbs. his precum loaded tip prods at the softness of your tummy and earns you a symphony of high pitched moans and heaving pants, harmonised with heavy balls slapping wetly against your clit over and over again. to the point where you fear you may be overcome with another orgasm all too soon.

being used like this, it feels humiliating, shame burns like paper held to a flame underneath the surface of your skin and tears begin to sting in your lower lash line as your entire body jolts up the bed — nagi throwing you about like a rag while he plunges his hips against your doughy thighs. his stamina impresses you too, but you find it hard to dwell on how quickly your lover was able to be riled up after rising from the constraints of an all powerful curse. you don’t mind the aching pulse to your untouched pussy when you get to watch nagi hang over you and hungrily hump your shaky legs — his usually kind eyes are swamped with darkness of lust the back of his pupil practically eclipsing the grey colour. 

his head darkens at the roots from how much he’s sweating, droplets crowning his head and running down his back like water on a glass windowpane. he’s a sight to behold, he makes your holes drool and mouth water, the both of you completely wrecked by a little thigh fucking and humping. between his merciless pace and the creaks from the bed, nagi jams a veiny hand between the sensual bump and grind of your bodies to grasp at his thick, temperate shaft — pulling it down to run through the entire length of your slippery before tapping it greedily against your puffy clit and snack between your thighs.

the sweet squeak you release has the prince repeating his action over and over, blood rushing through the purpling veins that spiral down his chubby cock. you’re the perfect sticky little fleshlight for him to fuck, to hold and love, and he hisses, jutting his hips forward in order to chase the euphoria coursing for his veins like the next best drug — all while he pounds your thighs to the starry heavens and back. 

juicy, wet sounds fill the room to the brim, a concert and performance of moans and whimpers to match and accompany nagi pounding away at your thighs, grinding against your sex. the white haired man leaks copious amounts of precum, milky like his hair and loose from his sore and sensitive rouge tip, that can’t stop weeping, oozing. his arousal makes each of his movements easier and more fluid, slipping and sliding between your legs and just grazing your sobbing mound. this way; you’re reminded of the sheet sheer size of your lover from the woods — be throbs, swollen and fat with an oncoming orgasm, with the seed that weighs down his balls that swing with each rut of his hips.

a hearty sob escapes you each time they press against you, dragging over your clit that begs for attention. the visage of your prince above you — flushed at the cheeks ( if they’ve been kissed by the petals of a rose), white brows knitted together st the centre of his forehead while ruby lined lips appear bitten and bruised  — begins to blur from your saltine tears. you can no longer hold back, raw and rough desire washing away your ability to control your body and your voice.

the way you cry wracks your body with the case of the shakes because of the wild whines resounding from deep within seishiro’s hard chest. each sound makes your cunt quiver, your juices darkening the sheets below and clinging to his snow while pubes, all the while, the prince ravishes you pulling you apart molecule by molecule before he pieces you back together with just a lazy shape drawn against your hardening clit. 

“w-what a waste of tears, i thought you wanted to use me,” nagi stutters out, breath condescending against your ankles. it makes him pulse between your thighs, knowing that he’s the one able to reduce you to a mess of cum and tears — even if you did half the work for him while he slept soundly. the fact that you threaten to break, still holding onto your inhibitions and desperate moans, only serves to make home rut his creamy cock against you faster. “you should give it up angel, m-much less of a hassle if you give into me.”

and with that, seishiro leans down to kiss you, his swiftness akin to a starved man. he manhandles your thighs to sit either side of his unfairly slender waist, granting him the room to swoop down until you’re chest to chest — his wide, large frame hiding your shaky one away from the world underneath him as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. he licks into your mouth as you open up with a shy mewl, devious tongue wrapping itself around your own as he tastes himself there. “thank you for waking me up, angel,” spit slings between your eager mouths, movements a little out of sync and languid since they’re so driven by a raw passion that simmers underneath the sleepy fog clouding the prince’s brain. “wakin’ me up to do this,”

he settles back on his haunches after coming up for air, laughing tiredly at the pout on your lips from the loss of contact. 

but now that you’re spread eagle with your cunt drooling openly on the bed and glistening under the moon’s light — the white haired royal angles his hips just right, shuddering from head to toe as his sex soiled girth slots between your swollen folds perfectly. his bulbous tip peeks out against your clit and he circles it against you, desperate to hear you wail like the wind again. “feels so good against you, s’not fair how good you feel,” he says under his stuttering breath, using a thumb and forefinger to spread your pussy lips apart — groaning at the strings of clear slick that tie them together. ““later on, when i’ve got more energy, i’m going to fuck this pretty hole. make sure i really have my turn.” nagi promises and swallows thickly at the raunchy sight of you, viscous drops of your treacle like nectar running over your slit and down to your puckered asshole.

you’re grateful for his touch, the friction you’re about to receive… but you miss seishiro’s lips and his tongue so deep in your mouth he might as well have been fucking it too. why do you miss those luscious lips? because they keep you quiet, muffle your embarrassingly high moans and withering screams of pleasure, cover up your glass shattering cries that accompany your teary face. he’s so heavy and raw against you, grinding his shaft that shoots tiny spirts of precum onto your cunt while you match his rhythm — it’s a wonder why you’re crying right now. not to mention the rounds of overstimulation he’s put you through. 

“you were so quiet before, angel, what happened?” a condescending tone fills out the weight in nagi’s voice, punctuated by the harsh lunges of his hips forwards as he smothers his girth in the juicy offerings from your folds. part of the prince wants to selfishly keep you writhing against his hot and heavy dick for all of eternity, adoring the way you bleat and cry for him through bleary Bambi eyes. hes sure you wouldn’t mind it either, but he’s too far gone to keep edging you both forever. “does it feel that good? so fucking good that you can’t help but whine and whimper for me… s’too much of hassle to hold back, angel. go one, cry pretty f’me, pretty girl…”

you burst into tears, letting your emotions overwhelm you. “feels so, so good, my prince,” you slur back as that familiar twinge of pleasure begins to rapidly mount within your tummy once more — throwing an avid, heated look his way. “s-sei, ‘m close,” one of your shaky hands take purchase in the silvery roots of his hair while the other grasps him shoulder so that you have the leverage to grind into him — rocking your hips in a fluid motion like a boat on rapid waves. sanity slips away from you under nagi, his energy completely unmatched as you struggle to keep up with his pace. the way he chases your sweltering, souse sex with the speed of the kingdom’s finest race horse. he pushes forward when you pull back and it goes both ways — one moment can’t happen without the other. 

nagi simpers above you, smirking lazily as he pushes back the sweaty snowy white roots of his hair — drinking in the sight of you. “that so? you’re close? wanna feel it’s, s’too much effort to have you hold it…not when you sound so wet…” both of you move with increased vigour the closer you get to cloud nine, seishiro cooing to you like over the crude sound of your sexes slipping over each other. “…y’should be embarrassed, yanno,” he presses against you, whimpering happily at the feeling of your breasts bouncing against his chest with each thrust, his breath hot against the tips of your ears and weakly grinds against you clit now — his own orgasm on the horizon.  “taking advantage of me like that. using me. s’naughty princess. such a hassle.” 

he tucks his face against your neck, teeth grazing over the skin while he listens out for your hiccuped sobs and heaving chest — you’re so loud when you’re close and it pleases nagi. he can’t stop tapping your clit and nipping at your flesh — desperate to hear how much louder you can get without holding back. a gargled gasp from you has his cock twitching and threatening to burst with release, while the condescending gripes that vibrate in his chest shoot straight to you’re swollen clit. 

listening to you cry and settling his greyed gaze on your puffy eyes is more than enough for nagi to cum, the string of his own sanity snapping as you scream for him. “you look like you’re about to cum, angel,” he purrs lowly, panting between each word. “mmmh, don’t you think i deserve to go first? fuuuuck i’m close…so close. do you want it inside? i won’t ruin the bed that way… wont need to clean it up…” seishiro rambles over the spit pooling pathetically on his tongue, bucking faster and harder against your slippery cunt with each syllable he manages to get out. “…wanna put it inside you as you cum.” 

you barely have it in you to respond and you can hardly make sense of it all, brain running a mile a minute. the feeling of your orgasm twists in your lower stomach, stacking painfully in your pelvis at a rapid pace you can’t even comprehend. “yes…! want it inside, gods yes!” you sigh out, voice rising several octaves. “want you inside!”

though it’s entirely selfish of you to make demands in the moment, after how you so sinfully used the sleeping prince as your prize — nagi relents, slipping the delicious curve of his cock past your puckered, fluttering entrance just as he reaches his peak. it makes him shake as though the gods have stepped down from the heavens and set foot on earth and he really can’t help it, how much he cums. there's so much of it, white hot seed that spews into you hotly, so pent up from all the pleasure you’d given him while he slept. his heavy load pulses against your sensitive, ribbed walls and sticks — lubing up your insides while he pushes his milky cock deeper into your bare cunt. 

“f-fuck!” the white haired prince curses loud enough to rouse his loyal subjects within a ten mile radius with one final swing of his hips. “f-fuck angel… gods!”  strings of opaque seed tie the veins on his shaft to your precious hole and as he twitches with the last spurts of his orgasm — your own high is triggered.

white flashes behind your eyes and the dam breaks for the third and final time — your release trickles out of you in small waves and you let out a borderline pornographic moan. nagi hums happily at the feeling of you squirting around him, Essen e clinging to his pubic hair too. 

for a second or two, seishiro relishes in the way you convulse around him, giving you a moment to calm down while he pacifies your high pitched squeals with gentle kisses along the side of your head. you’re still quivering when he collapses on top of you exhausted — neither of you having the capacity to speak properly. “d-don’t move… jus’ lay here with me,” he murmurs, tripping on his words. “‘m tired… don’t wanna move,”

you hardly have the strength to deny seishiro or push him off, snuggling into him as the pair of you roll onto your sides. “you’re tired… you almost slept for an eternity!” a laugh escapes you in reply.

“and guess who woke me up and made me work to cum. s’on you not me. fair is fair.” nagi quips back, burying his face into your neck.

you suppose that he has a point, nuzzling him from below as the two of you drift off without the fear of never waking up, of succumbing to lifelong sleep  — content, happy and fucked out by your sleeping beauty.

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Maid x Vampire!Reader

A/N: If you like this setting, consider reading about your chef at the castle too. And, if you wanna know more about the levels, check this post :)

Warning: Not nsfw, but suggestive. MDNI. Butler (side character) calls reader “Mistress”

Danger level: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Submissive level: ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♡ ♡

————————————————

Yandere!Maid who looks at the castle in front of him, then the flier in his hands, then the castle again. Unless there was a typo in the address, the job interview should be here. He hesitantly uses the bat shaped door knocker and waits...This place looks so creepy and ominous, was this a prank ? Was it to scare him? Seriously? Sigh…He has had enough of being treated like a fool. As he continues his descent into frustration, bitterness and self-pity, he doesn’t hear the door opening. Nor does he see the butler standing at the entrance until he hears a: “Sorry for the wait, my kind sir. Are you here for the housekeeper position?”.

Yandere!Maid who thinks the butler is telling him a load of bullshit. According to him, the owner of this place is a vampire in search of additional staff members. He resists the urge to scoff. Whatever, if the “mistress” wants to take part in some weird role-play, then so be it as long as he would get paid. The same guy tells him to “please take a seat” in the living room and that “mistress will come and attend to you in a moment”. Soon after his departure, the air shifts. Black particles float around until it materializes something, or rather someone. The poor boy's shock and confusion quickly turn into enchantment. Fuck, you are totally his type. This is bad, he can feel his face burning. “Shall we go to my office?”, you ask with a smile.

Yandere!Maid who hates you. Who hates the fact that your personality matches your looks. Who hates how much control you have over him. The other day, your...pet sneezed on him, so he needed another uniform. “It seems that I only have a female one left ”, you told him. “There is no way in hell I am wearing that”, he sneered. “But wouldn’t you look cute in it? Besides, it is either that or cleaning with your normal clothes on until your new uniform arrives here-” “Alright, shut up, just give me that”, he abruptly took the offending dress from your hands and went to change. Since that conversation, his work attire has fully transitioned to said maid outfit. Maybe he becomes a bit too proud of himself whenever he catches you staring at him. And maybe, just maybe he wants to give you a nice view by bending down and taking his time “to clean the table” whenever he knows you are behind him. He will never admit that though.

Yandere!Maid who, one day, demands asks you about your eating habits. As soon as you answer, something regarding animal blood, he turns oddly quiet. You are about to ask what is wrong, but then he surprises you by climbing into your lap. You watch him get comfortable and, with trembling hands, undo the first buttons of his dress. The cherry on top is him pulling on its collar a bit to show a silver of his chest. He now avoids eye contact as he waits for you to take the lead…You are still just looking at him, so, with a blush becoming darker, he snaps at you: “A-are you stupid or something ? Do you want me to spell it out-” “I am just enjoying the view”, you respond with a teasing smile. Before he can sputter more insults, you grip his chin and tilt his head to the side, exposing his neck to your hungry gaze. “But if you insist…Thank you for the meal <3”

Yandere!Maid who has his face buried deep in his pillow while he tries to calm his flustered self down. After you finished drinking from him, he hurriedly got up and scurried to his room without so much as a word. The more he recalls the embarrassing noises he made in front of you, the more mortified he becomes. It was not his fault, it just felt really good and you even pulled him closer and tugged on his hair and-He whines and squirms in his bed as he feels his body turning hot again like that time. The action causes him to feel a sharp sting on his neck. He freezes. That is right. You marked him. You marked him. You marked him.

...

Don't drink from anyone else, ok?

[iceunhie]

[ 3 + 1 ].

premise. in which entails your daily life being in a relationship with the one and only eccentric wanderer. (alternatively: wanderer's love for you comes in many forms. you welcome them all the same.)

warnings: established relationship, hurt-comfort, slice of life, wanderer is called kuni. jealousy (wanderer), angst. FLUFF fluff fluff. wanhida family goals

a/n: ITS SCARAMOUCHE WANDERER SEASON his event broke me btw [in tears]

BACK TO MASTERLIST || ASKBOX !

# observation one: unconventionally clingy

early on in your relationship, this side of the wanderer remains quite privy to himself alone. this is because he has a very, very uncanny similarity to an aggressive and guarded cat that hisses when given an ounce of affection.

this does not mean he doesn't like your outlandish and grand displays of affection, though; its actually the opposite. (LOL)

the true crux of the matter lies in his inability to let down his guarded pride to admit that he thinks your affection is his lifeblood. (basically, “ew, affection... do it again”)

he's a menace (affectionate), and if you were one for critiquing that aspect of his character, you wouldn't have been in a relationship with him by now, anyway.

however—there is always a however when it comes to him—this does not mean that wanderer doesn't come across points of anxiousness over the fact that his less than affable personality may be something you will grow sick of one day.

he knows he isn't the best choice of a romantic partner; seriously, what were you even thinking... but when he establishes that you are indeed now an irreplaceable part of his life (which will take a long time, good luck), he clings to you with a fierce desperation underneath all that thorn and bristle.

this is part of his visceral fear of abandonment—you are the one thing that he adores, cares for with his entire being (nahida as a close second), and to watch you slip away from him due to his own misgivings will spell out a death sentence for him.

(so please, treat him gently; cradle his cracked palms and broken psyche, and slowly, emphasis on slowly, but surely, he will learn to return in kind.)

this ‘clinginess’ comes forth in his proximity to you. once he has felt comfortable with your relationship, wanderer is quite unafraid to show how touchy he is in his own way.

whether that is to get groceries in your shared home, following after you like a second shadow when you go to the grand bazaar, or even shooing away people that harass you (tba), the wanderer's gaze and all his efforts are always directed to your will.

(you dubbed this as ‘scary cat boyfriend privilege’—and are rewarded with a painful flick to the forehead. ouch.)

—☆★☆—

“where are you going?” the slender hand that stops you from leaving your comfy bed does little to help your need to fall back into the blissful arms of sleep.

“just going to go get some water, kuni.”

waking up to the sight of the wanderer in all his divine glory certainly isn't one of the things you expected in your life, but you welcome it all the same. leaving a simple kiss to his forehead, you pry your hand away with a gentleness you reserve only for him.

he flushes, a lovely red adorning cheeks, to the span of his neck. oh, how you love seeing him melt.

“you won't take too long?”

he doesn't need to breathe, but he sucks in a breath anyway, face twisting to a deep set frown—your telltale sign that your kunikuzushi had a nightmare.

an unanswered question. you won't leave?

your hand caresses the silky soft strands of his purple hair, that in which wanderer nuzzles into. he doesn't seem keen on telling you, and you respect that. you'd wait for him as long as he'd like.

“of course i will. not going anywhere, silly.”

why would i? you convey in that same gesture. i love you.

the tightness of his face relaxes, his grip on your hand loosening. right—you weren't. (you were not going to abandon him.)

“hurry up and come back, then. it's far too early.” his voice is still thick with sleep, though that doesn't temper his signature sass at all.

i love you too. goes unsaid.

your grin sharpens, teasing. “aww, don't miss me too much, okay?”

anddd there's the signature scowl. “...never mind, don't come back.”

“hey!”

shuffling to hide his face from you, wanderer sports a genuine smile, hidden from your sight.

because in your presence, the wanderer stills, and all thoughts of a doomed eternity fall short of how he commits himself to you—wanderer loves and loves, loves you, for you nestle in the space his heart was meant to be, holding onto the mere wisps of your identity and weaving it into the mosaic of his soul.

it's silent save for when you plop yourself back to the bed, bearhugging wanderer and complaining about waking up early again because you stayed up all night playing tcg with him. (he's at 10 wins and 5 losses and he was not going to be caught lacking).

“you do realize that's entirely your fault, right?” he gloats. “it's not my fault my card bested that lawachurl of yours.”

“what?! no way, mister! my all geo team is still superior, mind you-”

once, wanderer wondered about the concept of infinity.

everlasting devotion. of unabashed care and trust. as he listens to your ramblings as the night falls to day, he figures that what you currently share fits that concept just fine.

# observation two: (very) jealous tendencies

it isn't in wanderer's intention to be jealous. well, so he says.

really, he isn't! after all, what was there to be jealous of? absurd! looks, intellect, an extensive range of vocabulary not limited to insults and creative verbal attacks; wanderer boasts quite the sizable number of pros that get most people falling at his feet. (his outward personality leaves much to be desired, however, but his snark does have a certain charm. probably).

and of all the bashful akademiya seniors and well-intentioned young women (and men), you managed to get into a relationship with this black cat of a derisive puppet. this is an achievement worthy of celebration, for not just anyone can take the wanderer and burrow into his many, many guarded walls and claim the title of being his lover.

yet, wanderer is the more jealous one in the relationship.

he knows that you won't cheat on him, and trusts that you won't look at others in such a way. but still, your boyfriend can't help but doubt. be patient when working out his jealousy, for it is a double edged sword—on one hand, wanderer was so adorable when he was jealous; sulky, clingy, hot you name it! and it was very flattering, knowing that he loved you enough to want to keep you all to himself.

but, the other side was quite... a piece of work. should you attempt to tease him about such a thing, it ends in three ways. one, him flying off to god knows where and leaving you alone (😐), two, restricting you from hugging and giving him affection (😭), and worse, giving you the silent treatment (😨). choose your ammunition wisely.

and from this, be prepared for the wanderer to monopolize your attention all to himself— with said admirers mysteriously off the grid or too afraid to approach you for fear of his wrath. i'll say it once: a jealous wanderer is a force to be reckoned with. (and we love him for it)

(he was chided endlessly by nahida for this; “you're scaring all the researchers that want to do a thesis review with [name]!” she says.

a sly smirk was his only reply).

—☆★☆—

“what, and here i thought he had more bark left in him.” wanderer huffs haughtily, with the researcher dashing away as if his life depended on it.

“you'll get scolded by nahida again, you know. i don't think the dendro archon's trusted aide should boast a terrifying reputation.”

he snorts. “lesser lord kusanali has better things to do than chide me for harassment.”

“but you don't have better things to do than scaring away poor kimiya?”

that gets you an eye roll that could reach massive highs of ‘what about it?’ from your boyfriend. “you're overthinking.” (translation: you're right).

“uh huh, sure i am.”

“whatever. who you talk to and interact with is none of my concern. it's not like i care about such things anyway.” he retorts. “i'm not possessive.”

so he says. “by the way, his pickup line was pathetic—‘are you anemo because your beauty blows me away’? atrocious.”

your eyebrow raises in return. really, who was speaking about “not caring” and then judging right after? well, it's fine because he was kinda right.... cyno would definitely get along with that guy.

“it was sincere! i think he has to be commended for his efforts, no?”

“you call that effort?” his face scrunches to a dissatisfied frown.

kinoya, kimiya—he doesn't even remember his name anymore. wanderer doesn't care for those that waste his time, and more especially to those that attempt to get close to you in particular. honestly, what a cheap trick.

and you! you were seriously humoring that moony researcher earlier. you even smiled at him! wanderer seethes, crossing his arms. “its quite irritating, knowing that they flock to you under the guise of—what was it he said? right, ‘shared academic pursuits.’ it was too obvious.”

“first of all: that's rude, second, he really needed help! anyone would feel sorry for him.” you tut, pinching the smooth of wanderer's palm. you wisely decide not to comment on how he immediately interlocks hands with you.

you snicker. “and he was only asking for advice on his research topic, silly.”

“hah! how nice — you're defending him now.” it's incredible how wanderer has the uncanny ability to be just like an annoyed cat that dunked itself into a bucket of cold water; and the way he frowns at you only makes you let out an even worse fit of laughter.

wanderer drinks in the sound, resonating it with the beat of his soul, your laugh the heartbeat echoing deep within his veins. he is reduced to nothing with you—with you, his face relaxes; wanderer may be indifferent to humans, but with you, your mere existence is enough for him to falter like a human, weaken like a human.

and weakly, perhaps in an attempt to save face, he speaks, “you didn't deny it.”

“deny what?”

“...defending him.” (if he were a cat, his ears would definitely fall flat right now).

you let out another light laugh, but sparing your lover the torment, you cling to the side of his arm instead.

“i never had such intentions.” stating it quite firmly, “i'm only saying that there's no competition to be made, darling.”

he gives you a skeptical look in return. “was there even any?”

“none at all.” you lean closer to him, and the wanderer leans into the touch of your hand on his cheek. “since you're winning.”

the flustered blush you receive and the subconscious squeeze of his hand in yours conveys all you need to say.

that did the trick. wanderer's smile is satisfied—smug. “clearly, you managed to make the right call for once.”

“well, i could hardly resist you.”

afterwards, you note that the wanderer's pace doesn't seem as fast as usual anymore. no matter the jaw dropped stares of others at the two of you cozying up together, he never let go of your hand once.

(the next day, kimiya comes to you with a sheepish smile saying that he'd like to focus on his own without your help.

“was it your doing?” you look at the wanderer by your bedside table fastening his vision in pace, voice deadpanning.

“hah? why would i waste my time over some insignificant mortal?” he replies, but as he's putting on his hat, you see him smile to himself.

that little...)

# observation three: secretly? protective/considerate (green flag!!)

if you ask anyone who knows the wanderer on a personal note, you'd find out that he is, indeed, quite considerate—hidden underneath alllll that snark and aloofness and haughtiness, the wanderer cares for those who have helped him in some way, and with you as his partner (romantic), that care is multiplied tenfold hundredfold.

this quality of his, despite being endearing on paper and practice, is reminiscent of that of an aggressive mother hen; if you count wanderer as a hen that pecks someone incessently to show his care.

he chides you like an exasperated young maiden, but the soft way he handles your bruised arm littered with injuries from your recent run in with some strange fontainian seahorse contradicts his harsh scoldings.

(“bested by a fish? are you serious?”

“excuse you, i needed to get it's horns for materials, okay?!”

“...remind me why i'm stuck with an idiot for a companion.”

“uh, because i have a great personality, and you love me?”

“a decision i've made that's quite hard to defend, honestly.”

you stick your tongue out at him. yes, his habits also become yours.)

or how he tells you you're hopeless at cooking, but always manages to excuse himself to cook for you the moment he notices even the slightest decline in your health. one concern though; he throws the bento towards your head—so minus points for domesticity. (...he has cut heart shapes into the vegetables before and has never been the same since.)

if there's anything you can count wanderer for, he will do it. you could ask him to attempt to pluck the very fabric of reality for you, string together the stars and leave them at your feet, and he will do so, huffing all the while (he never means it). he's just smitten like that; not that he would ever verbalize it—yet. his hushed and vulnerable whispers of asking you to let him stay by your side are your closest road to his admittance.

he will not serenade you with ‘shallow declarations of love,’ as he tells you, but you know that he will always be there for you, for better or for worse.

—☆★☆—

fury is an emotion wanderer was once very accustomed to—it reminds him of electric violet, of three betrayals and of yearning for a constitution he was never fated to reach.

and fury tugs at the strings of his being the moment he sees the droplets of tears fall from your eyes, blurring your vision.

“who did it?” something bitter and violent manifests in his countenance, his vision pulsing angrily with gales threatening to harm. (it does not harm you, though. it never does.) “who did this to you?”

his grip on your shoulders tightens the more you refuse to answer, both from anger and fear. you're never this silent; and his panic increases when you opt to bury yourself in his neck. wanderer sighs.

“hey. i'm asking who made you cry like this, idiot.”

“...”

“fine, i won't call you an idiot, then.” but impatient way he speaks the syllables that make your name betrays his worry. “just talk to me.”

“...can we just stay here like this?”

“....”

“sorry, that was a little-” you say, voice strained, pulling away; but the wanderer tugs you close, allowing you to hide from the world that seems so out to get you. (he knows that feeling well, after all.)

it's he who entangles himself with you, listening to the steady rise of your heartbeat, wiping away your tears.

“i didn't say you couldn't hug me, stupid. it's fine. do as you like.”

if it were a person that did this to you, that would've been better murder was never really out of the table with him, but when faced with something he is unable to solve for you; whether it be a bad day, bad luck, or even something he cannot control, wanderer finds himself at a loss.

because the concept of love, with you, is foreign—terrifying, even. betrayal and scorn were his guiding compass, and to be rid of it and to be seen by you, held by you, and to know that you were not going to follow in the footsteps of those he once clung to was far too good to believe. (yet he tries. for you.)

returning your embrace only passively, he tries to scramble for words of comfort—and when he fails to find the nerve to do so, he does the only thing he can allow himself to do.

with the kindness and gentleness he fostered (still fosters, thanks to you) from his memories as the kabukimono, the wanderer holds you, if only to remind himself of his place by your side, unchanging and adamant—as you remind him of his place beside yours.

he leads you to calm yourself down, albeit roughly as he tells you to stop fussing over trying to help him get you something wipe your tears with—and for all his flushed visage, he lets you cling to him, seeking his comfort.

i'm here, it goes unsaid. wanderer knows you'd pick up on it anyway. please talk to me.

(“if i die from this, i'll come haunt you as a ghost.” you shake like a leaf in his arms, clutched tight and staring at anywhere but the ground. who comforts someone by putting them almost 80 feet up in the air? heights are so not your thing.

“like i'd let you.” wanderer says, rolling his eyes. “and you're shaking too much. just keep your eyes on me, will you?”

“...was that flirting?”

“i will drop you.”

“wait, i'm kidding!” a particular breeze leaves you in goosebumps, with wanderer tightening his grip on you. “don't let me fall, please?”

“are you stupid?” he snaps, but urges you to look at the sight of the sunset on the horizon. his hold is more gentle this time, too. “why would i let you fall? now stop shaking and hold on to me.”

you think you fell just a little harder for him that day.)

—and if you decide to press a kiss to the back of his nape as a way of thanks, you're rewarded with a playful gale and a little zap to deter you in response.

“watch it, [name].” he says, but the shifty eyed way he doesn't meet your eyes isn't fooling anyone here; neither is the red on his cheeks. “you're too close.”

“hehe, sorry, sorry, couldn't resist.”

nonetheless. he supposes the growing smile on your face in place of your tears are sufficient payment for wanderer's efforts. hmph.

he'll let it slide for today.

(he does a lot of that when it comes to you.)

# deciding conclusion: totally in love with you (real not clickbait)

saying it outright: being with the wanderer is not a smooth road. it is full of hardships, hurt, and learning. there will be many times when his built in self destruction (read: abandonment issues) will kick in, hurting you in the process.

getting him to say ‘i love you’ will seem impossible at first, and there will be times when his doubt pierces your heart and renders it tattered to pieces. he's doing his best chat, pls help him

he will not be able to utter sweet words of adoration like you do, or return your embrace as easily as you would with him—and there will be many moments when he will feel as if he's not enough.

but nourish your affections, stay consistently by his side, show him that he is worth loving, worth staying for, and like the foundations of a steadily built tower, his trust and love for you too will grow.

(it will sometimes feel tiring, it will feel hopeless, and it's more than what you've bargained for, but it will all be worth it in the end.)

because you know he cares; it's in the way his expression morphs into helplessness when he sees your face fall in an argument, how he doesn't push you away when you kiss him and shower him with hugs, and when his hands lock tightly in yours in a sea of people, with you only in his sights. how his eyes betray him to look at you with fondness and warmth.

(it's wordless whenever wanderer decides to hold you tight at night, hugging you like his last lifeline. especially after a disagreement, with only the quietude of the night to observe.

he said some hurtful words today. that much he knows.

“are you asleep?” his voice is muffled against your shirt, and he may not need to breathe, but he inhales your scent anyway, memorizing the sight of you in his arms like a promise. “...you probably are.”

silence. “i'm sorry.”

“.....”

his lip trembles, his grasp on your arms bruising if not for your non-awareness. there's a wetness growing against your shirt, and small sniffles.

“i'm sorry.” and gently, so gently, wanderer presses his forehead against your shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of your body. “i shouldn't have snapped at you and told you those sorts of things.”

i'm sorry i hurt you.

please stay.

please don't let go of me.

i need you.

i love you.

when morning comes, you wake up to the sight of the wanderer in your bed, face nuzzled in your chest.

there are tearstains on his face.)

getting him to be open and vulnerable is akin to keeping a rusty, torn boat afloat; it will not be easy, no, but you know that he tries, (so very hard) to make it work. that he fights desperately against his own clumsily strung tethers and rebuilds himself anew, if only to understand and perceive you—to love you as you deserve.

and when that time comes, wanderer will cling to you, desperately, completely, and make sure your efforts will never ever make you regret giving him the chance to open up and be with you.

—☆★☆—

“what would happen if we ever broke up?”

dropping such a bombshell in the middle of having the wanderer on your lap was not how he thought things would go to, granted how pleasant the atmosphere was—he'd agreed to going on a much needed date (your words) with you after lesser lord kusanali had just graded him on one of his essay papers. (he got an a, obviously)

you don't think you've ever seen such a distraught look cross wanderer's face—aside from the time you finally beat him at tcg (5 out of 4); and you've never seen him look so angry either.

rather, he looked scared.

“what brought this idea on?” he tries to lodge out the words, trying to act coherent. but underneath, a storm brews—his hands are shaking. wanderer feels like he's swallowed a bag full of needles.

am i not doing enough? was i too harsh on them when i scolded them for fighting that damn mechanical desert robot? he's scared. or... do they really....

the mere idea of you being tired of him—sick of him, and ready to leave him behind leaves an ugly, disgusting feeling. like acid on his skin.

perhaps, you don't love him anymore? wanderer panics, senses going overdrive. was it that argument months ago when he hurt your feelings? he knows you know he apologized, and he's doing everything in his power to make sure he wasn't repeating that mistake anymore—but why would you say this out of nowhere?

or maybe it's because he didn't notice you feeling uncomfortable in your relationship? no, you would have definitely told him if so. then what is it? you don't just say things like this out of nowhere so seriously-

“i mean... at this point, i think i wouldn't ever want to break up with you.”

“...what?” wanderer blinks.

“you heard me.” cupping the sides of his face with your hands, you restate your words with more vigor. eyes determined. “i don't think i've ever loved someone so much as i love you. heck, not even close! kuni, if we break up, i might actually never recover.”

and the wanderer falls. how could you even say such a thing?

“that's... you're shameless.” he states it like an insult, but his hands go up to hide his eyes, hiding his embarrassment from your romantic words. “why would you even say something so out of pocket like that? you utter fool. you almost made me think i-”

- would lose you. even thinking it made him feel nauseous.

“why are we still dating then? but really, i mean it. i love you too much.” you coo, and that, in return, leads the wanderer to release an exasperated, weary sigh. if he were human, he's sure his blood pressure would never be normal because of you.

but contrary to his attitude, he relaxes his face and allows you to hold him. lightens up, even. you continue, rambling on, “be honest, you know you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

and that brings out such a bright and dazzling smile on your face that the puppets sarcastic smile is replaced by a real one when you huff and smack at his head. (all is well.)

“you're so unromantic.”

indeed, being with this strange, eccentric puppet was certainly a challenge in more ways than one. nonetheless, you know he cherishes you—because with you, the wanderer is different. he's bristly, infuriating, and honestly a pain (lovingly), but he cares for you.

he tells you to stop ogling at his pretty face and do the dishes, yet he never minds the attention at all. he tells you that you were a fool for accidentally getting yourself injured by eremites because you wanted to save some fungi, but follows you anyway and makes sure no one messes with you.

he says he probably wouldn't miss you while you're gone, but is always the first person you see when you return to sumeru city. it's these little things that make you love him, and you know the feeling is mutual—even if he'll act indifferent about it in the meantime.

“hey, kuni?”

wanderer's eyes are closed, serene. once he knew that you were not, in fact, going to break up with him, he relishes the feeling of his head resting on your lap. it was safe, warm, and everything to him; but he'd rather let the world burn before he tells you. “what?”

“thank you for letting me love you.”

....

“...idiot.” is all he says. you can feel him shift to the side so you won't see his face. “you don't have to thank me for that. that's so sappy...”

(and if you ever saw the slight sheen of glossiness in his eyes, you keep it to yourself.)

i should be thanking you. he thinks instead. i'm glad you love me.

so many things pop up in his head for this, so many unspoken words—and he may not be able to convey such things to you; he might never be able to, but you know that he loves, loves, and adores you.

because you accepted his past, his sins and his imperfections and treated him with tenderness and care. and you know that no matter how many sides of the wanderer you have yet to explore, you will love each one.

and that is enough for him to never let go.

a/n: IM CRYING I FINISHED THIS RIGHT ON TIME AFTER HIS EVENT and his growth has come so far,,, so proud of him 🥹

[pukefactory]

Okay I’ve gotten way to much back into ENA and I had an idea of Ena from dream bbq with reader were the reader speaks a whole new language and Ena takes time to learn and understand this new language just to feel closer to reader. I’m not sure if it should go romantically or more platonically lol

I more just wanted to put my thoughts out there! Thank u if u do write for this! Have a good week <3

•☽────✧˖°˖ SOMEONE WROTE THIS SONG BEFORE ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Salesperson Ena X Reader Who Speaks An Unknown Language

★ Character(s): Salesperson Ena (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ Salesperson Ena was immediately fascinated when she realized you spoke an entirely unfamiliar language. “A rare commodity! A unique dialect with limited market exposure! Tell me—what’s the valuation on fluency?” She started taking notes right away, promising to invest time into learning.

☆ “WHY CAN’T I UNDERSTAND A SINGLE THING YOU’RE SAYING?! WHAT ARE YOU, SOME KIND OF ORACLE?! SOME COSMIC JESTER?! A MESSENGER OF GØD WHO WON’T JUST SPIT IT OUT?!” While her Salesperson side was taking a structured, strategic approach, Meanie Ena was screaming into a dictionary, shaking it like the words inside might rearrange themselves into something she could grasp.

☆ Ena’s learning methods were… questionable. At one point, she tried to absorb your language through osmosis, pressing her forehead against yours while mumbling, “Downloading linguistic data… recalibrating neurons… okay, that’s not working.” Then she switched to frantically gesturing at objects and waiting for you to name them.

☆ One day, Ena decided to fully commit. She put on a little presentation, flipping through a self-made slideshow. “Ladies and gentlemen of the universe, I present to you—MY NEW LANGUAGE ACQUISITION BUSINESS PLAN. Featuring: memorization! Pattern recognition! And my personal favorite—aggressive trial and error!” She even had graphs, though they didn’t make any sense.

☆ As she improved, Ena started offering (unwanted) translations to everyone in her bizarre world. “WORRY NOT, CITIZENS! I HAVE DECODED THE ENIGMA THAT IS MY PAL’S SPEECH!” She would then proceed to provide the most inaccurate translations imaginable. “They just said… ‘All business transactions should be made in good faith!’ See? Deep philosophy!” (You had actually just asked for a snack.)

☆ There was a moment—rare, fleeting—when Meanie Ena stopped shouting and just sat in quiet contemplation. “You… really spent time teaching me,” she murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “That’s… nice, I guess. Ugh, shut up, I didn’t say anything sappy!” (She totally did.)

☆ Ena started mixing your language with her usual speech patterns, much to the horror of those around her. “DEAR CUSTOMER, LET ME OFFER YOU A ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME DEAL ON—” she suddenly switched mid-sentence into a phrase in your language that made zero sense contextually. Even she looked confused. “…Wait. Did I just say ‘fermented pancake’ instead of ‘investment opportunity’? Oh dear.”

☆ One day, she threw you a curveball. “Now it’s YOUR turn!” Ena decided you had to learn her speech patterns in return. Suddenly, you were being quizzed on sales jargon and cryptic Meanie Ena-isms. “QUICK! WHAT’S THE CORRECT RESPONSE TO ‘SPONSOR MY BUSINESS’?” (…There was no correct response. Only suffering.)

☆ Once Ena became confident, she started using your language for private jokes and secret commentary. If someone was annoying her, she’d lean over and mutter something in your dialect that made you stifle a laugh. “Ugh, what did she just say?!” a bystander demanded. Ena grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just business talk!”

☆ Finally, after who-knows-how-long, Ena approached you with something clutched tightly in her hands. “TA-DA! My final product!” It was a handwritten letter, completely in your language. The grammar was awful, the spelling was questionable, but the message was clear: “Thank you for being my friend. I hope we can talk like this forever.”

[lady-ashfade]

Different Hybrids S/O: Pt.1.

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Izuku Midoriya, Tenya Iida, Katsuki Bakugo, Mina Ashido, Hanta Sero

Warnings: spelling errors, it’s 9am and I haven’t gotten any sleep, hybrid au, fluffy, hcs, Adhd, blind reader, other stuff but it’s all good!! Everything is just for the hybrid type.

͙͘͡★ theses are just some silly ideas for hybrids, and I will be doing character with other types!

★ Izuku who has a bunny s/o, and someone who is constantly bouncing off the walls. You have your calm moments but only after almost breaking everything in the apartment. Izuku chasing you around as you run through the rooms, looking and picking up everything that catching a your attention. One time, you ran out your shared home and down the halls….Izuku wasn’t too happy about having to catching you and drag you back — But you were passed out in his arms before you could even get his lecture.

★ Tenya with a bat!hybrid s/o, who doesn’t really have eyesight. His partner is quite mostly, not really one to speak but only in battles because of their high pitched voice. A clingy thing who flocks to him, staying by him in most public settings but also enjoys their alone time. Who is always in the dark, and Tenya often finds them hanging from the ceiling to take naps. S/O is always watching things turn to chaos around them but just chills, and a Tenya who screams to try and calm everything down. Tenya is the only one allowed to touch their wings. Plus, dried fruit chips are always on him just for you.

★ Mina who has a Lion!Hybrid S/o who matches her personality so well. That hybrid has pride, and confidents. Mina shows them off so much, she dresses them up with outfits that show off their mane. Reader is constantly getting their nails done, clipped and shaped….Mina is the only one safe from danger. The reader has hissed and growled at old nail techs, but now only whines and groans in pain with Mina, who tells them to stop being a baby. Mina however knows how the reader walks around her, constantly showing off even tho she’s their girlfriend. Showing off just to keep her. And…Mina loves it so much when reader lowly growls when someone approaches her, jealous but protective.

★ Katsuki who has a Cat!Hybird s/o. They are constantly hitting heads, but they so also so sweet and fluffy behind closed doors. Reader hisses at their boyfriend, and he does it back, a lot of people watch for about ten minutes before reader is standing weird before pouncing on their boyfriend and then they fight…In a non violent way but there are bites showing on kats arms later, ripped shirt by their claws and constantly rolling around while wrestling. Kats who finds it comforting when they purr when they sleep. The way he can feel the vibrations, makes him feel loved that they can relax in his presence. Kats who loves that your ears twitch with sounds, and when your tail waves….Kats is constantly grinning when your tail gives away your mischievous plans.

★ Sero who has a Koala!Hybird s/o. Sero is Hyper, or he can be calm and yet his lover is fine with either. We all know he loves hammocks, for his s/o matches him so well. They like to sleep or nap in trees, but he makes them sleep indoors. Sero only finds the best leaves for you to eat and knows the ones you hate, never thought koalas were picky with their plants until he met you. You do love his friends, well they are yours too, you just go off in a separate room to read or nap. They are all fine with it. Since you have extra padding and hands to help climb, he is always showing off the clips of you saving cats from trees and such. Tho you aren’t a big pro! You are still a hero, his favorite hero. And you better believe he loves having you as his backpack while he cleans around your home as you’re passed out on his shoulder.

͙͘͡★ want more of this? Like or reblog, or even ask me with what you want!

[yourlocalzombiewriter]

And I don't even like you that much!

Wait…, I do…, fuck

(Black myth wukongs head-canons)

Author note: hi!, I’m not that use to writing and English is not exactly my first language so there might be a lot of spelling mistakes.

And this is my first time writing for Sun wukong (Black myth) so he might not seem in character, if that makes sense. Either way I hope you enjoy!

★ ✵ ★

Assuming you two are already dating, and he’s comfy around you, please prepare for some chaotic moments.

Not a single Moment is dry nor empty with this mischievous monkey.

From spooking you with a clone of himself, or annoying your with one of his many transformations, he never runs out of ideas to surprise you with.

That being said, he is a bit laid back now depending on what period you’re dating him. After the events of journey to the west, he is way more calmer then his “younger” self.

He enjoys the simplicity of day to day activities now, cuddling, cleaning up a small section in which you both share. Or laying out under a tree with you as you read to him.

Those small moments mean much more to him now.

He loves to pridefully declare his fearlessness and having no such thing as “a biggest fear”. But at night that’s quickly disproven, sometimes he uncharacteristically sits in silence. Mind making up fake scenarios of your demise that could have been caused by him, his reputation, his enemies. He has a silent vow to himself to protect you first with his immortal life, no matter the cost and punishment he may endure.

An uncomfortable fear of having something of value so precious, so fragile is almost to much to handle. He doesn’t look down upon you mortal or not, but he will still fret for your safety. He’s so tired of losing things he holds dear, and after not having that feeling for centuries before you came along, he almost gets so wrapped up in the possibility of losing you, he loses sight that he has you right now.

He loves picking you up at random times, doesn’t need to be a situation where you need to be picked up he’ll just do it. No matter height or weight he loves seeing you shocked and giggling.

His most sensitive parts are definitely his tail and ears, maybe his nose too. If you kiss him from ear all across his cheek to his nose, he swears all his immortal lives end there from how his hearts pumping.

He does plan on marrying you, makes it very vocal too in the beginning to make sure you know what your committing to.

Loves when you comb and pick at his fur, don’t even get started on complementing it. He’ll easily sit between your legs for hours as you comb through the top of his head, getting rid of knots and such.

He wraps his tail absentmindedly when you stand near him. He doesn’t really even acknowledge it happening, it usually wraps around your ankle or thigh Or lazily around your hips.

Watches you as you sleep, not even in a creepy way he just has to take time to appreciate you for just your mere existence.

Spoils you with fruits, peaches especially of course, but he mixes it up here to there. Sometimes he just comes waltzing in with buckets if not wagons of ripe fruit from different regions.

When you hurriedly say you cannot eat that much before they wither, he’ll just laugh. Because he knows he can so whatever you leave over he finishes it off happily. But if your generous your free to share with the other demon monkeys on the island.

He likes carrying you in his arms while he rides his nimbus cloud.

You can point to random spots and he’ll happily zoom on over there to let you explore. Of course with him trailing closely behind you.

(I’m aware that in most tellings of journey to the west they say picking up a mortal from the ground is almost impossible, but I’m gonna dismiss that. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

He likes lounging around with you on slow afternoon’s cuddling and engorging in different types of luxuries.

He loves taking you to hot springs, and enjoying time there together relaxing. That or a near by waterfall he frequents.

If he sees something you may like he just snatches it, doesn’t really matter to him where he took it, half of the time he doesn’t know himself. As long as it is worthy to be appreciated by you.

He takes naps on you, just asks you to lay down and then lays on your chest or stomach and falls into a comatose state for a good while.

★ ✵ ★

That’s all I have for right now, I hope these were enjoyable to read!.

( ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ )੭⁾⁾

[activemelil-blog]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ dating the JJK boys, men headcanons

note: english is not my first language, so any spelling errors are because of it !! also, all stories mention you being female. slight 18+, seven per character . . .

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 0:10 ── Choso, Megumi, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji, Geto, gojo and yuji <3 (in order.)

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

CHOSO, KAMO ─── ͙͘͡★🩸ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

choso would most likely get embarrassed seeing you half naked, or if he even saw you with a tank top with no bra underneath. he would look away so fast, his cheeks heating up. you would probably just look at him a little confused, and he’d walk; or back away slowly.

while choso loves you for your, he would definitely be a fan of your body too. hes an ass/thighs guy. he would love the feeling of his face being crushed by your thighs if hes eating you out, or when he falls asleep, he rests himself on your thighs, or your ass.

he’s probably inexperienced. this man is half curse, and 150 years old, so when you two get together, he’s a little clueless about having a girlfriend, but somehow he manages to be perfect. not to mention, definitely the first time he leaves a hickey on you, he admires it for a while, and leaves more. it is definitely one of his guiltier pleasures.

his back is.. really sculpted, and well defined, so when you see him sleeping face down, with no shirt your a little surprised. not to mention, its sensitive. so when you trace patterns along his back; he holds his moans in, whimpering lightly instead. his back arches cutely though. he’s definitely embarrassed about that later on when you tease him about it.

if you two go out, you bet this man would have his arm either around your waist, mainly over your shoulder. he’s really touchy, to an endearing extent, and he would definitely squish your thighs if he’s anxious, or if you two are watching a movie, he’ll be gripping your thigh, his hand itching higher up accidentally.

he would definitely stay up when your sick, and would coddle you like a baby if your sick. he would probably be so worried, he would have himself laid in between your thighs, murmuring stories about mahito, and whatever to you to keep you awake.

he would be the absolute best at planning dates, he would have you guys cooking together, and he would lick the access off your face, you guys would match halloween costumes, you guys would have the best dates, because of him.

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

KENTO, NANAMI ─── ⋆｡°🕯️✩.˚₊

kento would be be the type of boyfriend, husband and or fiance to spoil you rotten. he would pay for everything when you two go out, he would take you out to the best, most fanciest restaurant, and you’d take photos together for you to save.

he definitely likes praising you. he would definitely use pet names, and his main three are darling, my love and sweetheart. he loves calling you nicknames, especially if its your name, just a shorter version of it.

when he’s driving you two out, oh, this man would have one hand on the wheel, the other firmly holding onto your thigh. he’d make sure to slightly rub your thigh, a little more subtly.

when you two are having sex, (mainly after he comes home from work) he would cover your eyes with his tie, or tie your wrists above your head to watch you be a little helpless. he’s gentle with it, soft, as too not be too rough.

he’s 100% a gentleman. If you two are doing anything you always make sure to ask for your consent, and then move on. he’s gentle to play with you, and or to tease you.

if you two are texting, he would send voice messages that would probably make you squirm, which you also do when he decides to cook, and he’s wearing an apron. he looks nice.

if you fall asleep on the couch before he gets home, he would probably either pick you up to put you onto your shared bed, and or sit beside you, and grab a blanket.

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

MEGUMI, FUSHIGURO ─── ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☃️ ﾟ｡⋆

he’s a cutie. he would definitely get shy if you compliment him, even if its a small one, like you like his jacket, his shirt, and or his eyelashes. he gets flustered easily, and its how you two began to date.

even if he ghosts other people, for example one time he left yuji on read for two months, mean while he only takes less than thirty seconds to reply to your messages. your his first priority, always. he always makes sure your okay, and even if your zoned out, he’ll be concerned for you.

when he first notices his crush on you, he immediately rushes to gojo, panicking. since your his friend at first, he gets awkward around you, but then when you confess to him first, and he runs away, leaving you dumbfounded. he tells gojo again, and gojo sets you guys up on a nice date.

often, the silence with megumi is awkward with anyone else. when its you two, its not awkward at all, if anything its comforting. since hes not a big fan of pda, he often just sticks to holding your hand lightly, and if hes feeling nice that day, he’ll put his hand, more so his fingertips lightly on your thigh. he’s too nervous to do more.

when it snows in the winter, you two would have snow dates almost every week, every day. you would make a snowman, and itd be a three way thing, gojo being a third wheel. he would often third wheel you two, for example when you two went into his room, gojo would be peaking time to time to make sure you guys aren’t doing anything inappropriate behind that locked door.

behind that door, you two are listening to music on his AirPods, as his head is in between your legs, scrolling on his phone as you also look. whatever you find funny, he often blankly stares at it, which makes you rethink your life, a little.

one time you gave him a matching necklace, and he shrugged it off, and when he saw your slight pout, he wore it every single day after that. he enjoys doing little things with you, even if its something as simple as studying, and he always manages to end up taking you home while your asleep.

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖────────

RYOMEN, SUKUNA ─── જ⁀➴🍒

having.. one of the strongest beings as your boyfriend, is a little weird for sure. he was convinced you were the love of his life, since he’s still convinced you have some alterer motive, because he thinks your not too innocent as you lead on. but, he’s wrong. he finds you endearing in a sense. his favorite thing about you is probably your tits, and the way you speak softly, and look at him like he hasn’t committed genocide.

he wouldn’t be too toxic. maybe on a scale from one to a hundred, probably a sixty eight, though you questioned his loyalty when he forgot your birthday, he blames it on you. he made it up to you by making you pass out later on that night. when he does do that, he does have the niceness to clean you and him up.

if you send him a paragraph about how much you love him, he’d either respond him with, ok and or, i love you too. (with the period, he is dramatic.) and when he finds out you have other peoples numbers, he gets mad, and he gets all pouty, and whiny.

one time, he showed you a cute video on a phone he stole, and it was a nice video, and it jump scared you. you slapped him, and he was pouty after that too. he scoffs it off, and notices how you genuinely look upset, he nudges at you until you give in.

he wouldn’t be afraid to rub up on you in public. especially if you two are shopping together, he would grab your ass in-front of whoever, wherever, and then whisper to you, then you often slap his hand, because he only does that if theres a kid around, to piss you off.

when you ask him if he has two cocks, or four, he furrows his brows, and asks you where you even got that from. you gesture towards the fact that his actual form has four arms. you tug on his pants, making his breath hitch.

he ends up having two. its hard to manage.

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

TOJI, FUSHIGURO ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🍑 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

realistically, i think a lot of people say he wouldn’t be very loyal. my version of toji would probably be, he uses you because your rich, then he genuinely ends up falling in love with you, and when he does, he tries to ghost you, and fails.

when you two first started seeing each other, he often stays over at your place, and sleeps with you on your bed, being the big spoon. but, when he learns that he does actually like you, he starts to remember more important dates, when you two first started dating, a year in, he forgot about it, and when you hint towards it, he ends up taking you out, and makes you pay for it, and he makes it up to you later that night.

GYM DATES!! this man would love to go to the gym with you, and or train at home with you, and he would show off, as you look at him in awe. when he tells you to do squats, and you play along, he stares at your ass. he’s an ass guy; all the way.

when you two do go out in public, like when you wanna take a walk, and when you wanna go to the grocery store, he’s a little iffy about it. he doesn’t really like going out, but for you, he’ll do it.

he loves it when you sit on his lap.

when your parents first meet toji, they think he’s using you for his money, and boy were they right, and wrong at the same time. he quickly gets along with your dad, when they have a few drinks together, complaining about women, ( you, and your mom.) and he explains how much he adores you, and how you changed his life, gaining your parents trust.

on a scale of one to ten, he’s a seven on roughness.

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

GOJO, SATORU ─── 🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

mischaracterization for gojo is crazy in fan fiction, no he would not be narcissistic, he would care about you more than he would care about himself, and he would make sure you fall asleep before him, and he would play with your hair, vise versa. this man would tell his students about you, and ramble about you until class is over, and they would definitely be somewhat intrigued, even if megumi already knows about you.

If you two were dating, and or engaged, married, whatever is it you two are, he wouldn’t ever raise his voice at you. if he did, it would probably be more of a whine. he would remember the smallest things about you. he would do anything to cheer you up if he sees you upset, even if it was embarrassing.

TEEN GOJO!! would wake you up at three in the morning to tell you about something he dreamt about, and then he rants for thirty minutes about how its symbolic, and you would probably fall asleep half way through, and he would be whining about how he wants you to wake up.

this man would spend all his money on you. but he definitely would see you glance at something in the store, and then he would buy it later, and you just look at him in awe when he does. he would also call out sick just to spoil you that same day, and his students would for sure know something’s up.

TEEN GOJO!! whenever he gets angry at you, and if he gives you silent treatment, he’ll get all pouty, and hope you’ll ask him whats wrong, same thing if you get distracted by something anywhere, he’ll look at you with slight irritation before poking at you, as he wants you to look at him instead.

if gojos eating you out, hes doing it while holding softly onto your thighs, and occasionally looking up at you with a grin on his face, compared to you, who’s gripping his hair, your eyes fluttering. seriously, he would be sloppy.

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

GETO, SUGURU ─── ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

in a modern college au, if you two FaceTime from morning to night, he would definitely do your skincare with you, and or follow along with you, as you ramble on about whatever your pissed about at the moment.

TEEN GETO!! when he sees you sleeping, and he sees how you’re slouched over, he would resort to moving next to you, and letting you rest on his shoulder, and when you wake up, your resting on his lap, and he’s playing with your hair, a small smile forming on his face.

if suguru gets sick, he’s more vulnerable, and a lot more clingy. he’ll spill his whole life story to you, and probably will cry in your arms because he’s scared of you leaving him. so when you reassure him you wont leave, he says thank you softly.

when you tell him any sort of drama, he would be listening in, and be on your side, even if your wrong, he’ll always be paying attention to you, and side with you.

in a modern college au, Suguru will probably have little to no social media, and if he does, he only has less than twenty followers, most of them being his friends, and or family. when he does post, its you, and only you.

he’s all for fingering you. he loves using his thumb as his main for edging you. he loves edging you, seeing your facial expressions, or the way you try to close your legs as an instinct, he opens them up with plopping two fingers inside you.

he would definitely remember everything about you, little, and big. he’s all for it, he’s a good listener, so he remembers everything you say; and he’s also a good boyfriend because he’ll buy you flowers, and chocolates for you, even if its not an important date.

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

YUJI, ITADORI ─── ✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

when he texts you to come over, and you say yes, he immediately rushes to clean his room, and when you show up, he grins at the sight of you, he loves everything about you.

he’s the perfect boyfriend; really. he calls you every single day, asking if your okay, asking if you wanna have a date, asking when, where, and it always ends up with you sleeping over at his place, and waking up drowsy from the video-games you two played, and how you two went to bed at almost five in the morning.

whenever you two kiss, its gentle. its not a full tongue on tongue, super make out, since you two are teenagers, you dont do anything crazy. up to the way he tucks your hair behind your ears, and he pulls away flustered, smiling at you, it makes happy.

when he first overheard the fact you dont like people with bad posture, he immediately stands onto fixing his posture, and now whenever you glance at him, he boasts about it to megumi. since you two don’t particularly speak at first, your mainly friends with nobara.

when he first meets your parents, he’s mortified of your dad, and your mom immediately questioned him, but when he assures your parents he wants nothing other than to make you happy. your dad softens up to him, and they get along well, so its even.

yuji is all for pda. he loves holding your hand, he loves flicking your cheek when your looking away from him, and how you yelp, he likes how soft your hands are, when his hands are a little bit more rough. compared to yours. he’s not all for sexual intimacy, mainly because you guys believe too young to.. well, do anything further than kissing.

when your dating him, since he also has sukuna possessing him, he often comes out to boast about how your also his girlfriend, and yuji panics internally, trying to take over, sukuna is probably the opposite, and he often makes.. rather concerning comments, and when yuji comes back out, he apologizes rather quickly, but you dont mind. it adds to his character, (is what you tell yourself.)

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

if you did read all of those, kudos to you 😇 this only took me half a day soo hope it was good to whoever read these 🫶 if you want to repost my work,

make sure to give credits ‼️

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Omg.. imagine Pierrot!reader who is really committed to the bit and everyone (Welcome Home Characters) have been trying to get them smile, and when they finally do smile at a joke, they quickly apologize and go back to their sad looking face

Pierrot!Reader: Oh my! I am deeply sorry dear, give me a moment to go back in character.

You can make them yandere's or nah, I won't mind at all! ^^ I love your writings in all of their available flavors! <33

Today I learned what a Pierrot is! Also, autocorrect kept capitalizing the "p" in Pierrot so I guess that's how it's supposed to be spelled. Not relevant but I thought it was interesting!

Wally, Julie, Sally and Barnaby & Pierrot reader

Wally

★ When alone, he spends time thinking about your dedication to the Pierrot persona. Talking to the other neighbors about it. "Why do you think they stick to the sad clown act?" he asked them, hoping someone might have an answer. They don't get it but if it makes you happy, then what's the harm?

★ Wally occasionally leaves small, thoughtful gifts for you, such as a flower or a handmade trinket. A painting of you, perhaps? He hopes these acts of service will show you that he cares and that it’s okay to be happy sometimes.

★ The first time you smiled in front of him was unexpected, he wasn't trying to get you to smile. The two of you were just sharing stories of how your respective days went. Wally said "and then Barnaby remembered he could reach the top shelf." Then you laughed! Although it was a brief moment, it caught him off guard.

★ You caught yourself and apologized for breaking character. He tried not to make a big deal about it. If you ask him to keep this between the two of you, he won't tell a soul.

Juile

★ After first meeting, she bombards you with questions, trying to find the reason for your sad facade. "Why do you always look so sad? Isn't it tiring?" she asks, genuinely confused by your commitment. She sees it as a challenge to make you smile!

★ Julie never gives up on trying to make you smile. She enjoys the challenge and is always coming up with new ways to bring a bit of joy into your life. Don't get it wrong, she likes your company, even if she doesn’t fully understand why you stay so committed to the sad clown act.

★ The day you finally slipped and let a smile out at one of her antics, she began to cheer and jump up and down. Rest assured she will treasure this moment! "You smiled! I knew you could do it!" Frank is going to hear all about this latter!

Sally

★ Sally admires the dedication to your character but believes everyone deserves to have a bit of happiness in their act. You have a lot of grey in your outfits, why not try a nice pink instead? it'll help you stand out on stage! She creates elaborate acts/plays for the two of you with the hope of coaxing a smile out of you.

★ In all honesty, she is a little jealous about your ability to keep up the act. You manage to stay in character so flawlessly, someday she'll be able to pull of such a convincing performance, just like you!

★ The day you break into a smile because of one of her acts, she has a :0 look on her face and is too stunned to say anything. Only for you to quickly apologize and revert to your solemn demeanor. Oh well, a win is a win!

Barnaby

★ He is genuinely curios about your Pierrot persona. He thinks your commitment to the bit is admirable and tries to understand how it makes you happy. He's constantly making silly faces at you, hoping to see a crack in your sad facade.

★ He also enjoys having more mature conversations with you. He asks questions and pays close attention to your answers, hoping to learn more about you beyond the Pierrot persona. "No offence, but why do you stick to the sad clown act when your happy?"

★ Barnaby takes it upon himself to balance out your sad act! He tells you a series of terrible, corny jokes, determined to get you to smile. When he finally succeeds, your immediate apology and return to a sad face leave him both amused and confused.

[obsessedwrhys]

Hi!!! could you make a headcanon of valen with fem merlin please? I've been searching and there's almost nothing ;; thank you also for making the headcanons of other characters ♡

|| VALEN DATING HEADCANONS ||

ᯓ★ just lots of fluff, reader is fem!! (I'm glad you like my other work ☺)

Despite his good looks and the rumours told by the villagers, he's actually inexperienced with love. He's constantly busy with his duties so he never really felt it was necessary to be in a relationship.

That was when he met you and oh boy did he fall head over heels for you HARD.

At first he didn't think much of it and simply just saw it as a task by Hogan to protect you, but the more you guys spent time together, the more he enjoys being by your side.

He was in denial the moment he realised he had developed feelings for you but he also couldn't deny what his heart wanted. So eventually he just chose to go with the flow.

His behaviour wouldn't change drastically but he does seem to develop a few traits when he came to the conclusion that he had a crush on you.

His eyes would linger on you longer when the group discusses on a topic, his brows relaxed as he's giving you the heart eyes.

And how he was always the first person to check up on you after every battles, making sure you weren't hurt anywhere.

He would also notice little details about you. How you seem to rub your arms when you're awkward or play with your hair when you're bored.

There was this one time he noticed you shivering a bit on the cold night so he offered you his cloak/cape, you thanked him which made his heart swoon but his face hid it with a simple smile.

When your group made it back to Holistone after your eventful journey, he was quick to treat everyone with drinks. It was there where he confessed to you.

Scenario ↴

Everyone had left to chat with their friends and he found you drinking alone at your table. With the opportunity in his hand, he slide into the empty seat beside you.

"You're alone, where are your chipmunk friends?" He'd ask with his arm rested on the chair and the other on the table.

"They left to check out the market" You'd say with both your hands wrapped around your glass.

He eyes your face for a while as he tries to think of the right words to say. He gulps but tried to cover it up by pretending to clear his throat.

"I uh—"

"Your face is red"

"Huh?" His eyes widened, but when he realised there was no way out, he ended up relaxing his face with a defeated sigh.

"I guess nothing bypasses the magister. Not even a knight's feelings..." He'd smile warmly at you when it was your turn to be flustered.

The second you guys started dating, it was huge news to the villagers. They were curious how you managed to catch his eye when all of the women have been trying their hardest to get his acknowledgement.

Some even made up rumours that you might have used a love spell on him.

Throughout the relationship, Valen would definitely be affectionate. Expect lots of flirting and corny jokes.

"You’re so beautiful that you made me forget my pickup line"

"Valen go to sleep..."

He's also very open with PDA, nothing too extreme though, just simple things like holding hands and kisses on the cheek or forehead. He just loves to see you smile.

I have a feeling that since you two are dating, it would be easier for Valen to figure out you were Merlin. He wouldn't be mad that you hid it from him but rather he understood your reasons for it. Also, he wouldn't say anything about it until your secret was revealed by Mirael.

He'd just stand there with his hand on the handle of his sword, completely unfazed because what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't know that first??

Once your secret was out, expect him to ask lots of questions about your magic.

Like can you give a cat wings?

How does it work?

Could you make him 1 inch taller?

The first time he saw you use your magic outside of battles was when you used it to tie your hair. It baffled him but he had to admit it was fun to watch.

Thats why he would always stare at you all excited whenever you used your magic to do simple tasks. His excuse for his behaviour being "How can I not watch when you look so effortlessly gorgeous 😚"

His petname for you is Dove and this is a headcanon I will defend with all my heart.

He picked the name because he always found doves romantic, the name was easily decided the second you brought love into his life.

I just have a feeling his kisses are playful most of the time but when he's really serious, it'd be the most breathtaking kisses you could ever experience. His hand will always find its place behind your back when you two share the moment.

He definitely adores it when you kiss him too, especially on his cheek where his scar is. He also likes it when you trace your fingers across it because it always help him relax. Your gentle touch soothing his soul from a bad memory.

One more thing. He becomes more protective over you. Not in a bad way though, he knows you can defend yourself with your magic but that doesn't mean he's not gonna try to protect you from the enemy.

He doesn't care if the person is bigger or stronger than him, he'll still draw his sword.

After every fight, you'd always tend to his wounds and even through your complaints at his recklessness, he'd still look at you with genuine love in his gaze.

"You're such an idiot"

"A charming one right?"

He shows you off A LOT. I'm talking like crazy lot. Every conversation he shared with anyone, he's always gonna talk about you several times. It drives Hogan crazy, don't get me wrong, he's happy for you two but he can't seem to get his lovesick head to function.

I make him sound like he's crazy about you (which he kinda is) but it's just he's really proud of you. He's so very supportive of you!! He might even have Chippy and Hammie beat at being your number one fan.

Like hello??? My girlfriend is saving the world here 🙄

Of course, he's a very understanding person. If there's anything you're uncomfortable with, just talk it out with him and he'll make sure it won't happen again.

Now for dates. He likes to take you to the most prettiest spot of Holistone or any places he knows. You guys would just spend time chit chatting or cuddling.

Your personal favourite was when he had managed to plan a picnic for you two on a hill, it was adorable watching him cut the food into smaller slices and then feeding you, it was his way of giving you the princess treatment.

Well he is a knight and it is his duty.

Since he's very affectionate, he can also be a tease. He likes teasing the height difference between you two. He finds it adorable.

"You're so small. Are you sure you're as the myth foretold? The mighty merlin? So cute..." He'd stroke your hair with a smile.

I feel like he'd teach you some skills to defend yourself just in case. He knows your magic is powerful but he's not gonna risk it, not when it comes to you.

The lessons would mostly be basic hand-to-hand combat. There was this one time you managed to beat him in a friendly duel and even though he was going easy on you, he was still proud of you regardless so he showered you with compliments.

Another thing I'd like to add is that he secretly write poems dedicated to you. He's too embarrassed to share them with you so if you ever found out, he thinks he'll actually dig a hole and bury himself alive. He'll only share ONE poem with you once he finishes rereading it for the 19373th time and making sure it's good.

By the way, this man can get jealous. He doesn't like seeing Lorsan get too close to you. Half of the times he'd actually cross his arms without even realising when watching you two talk. You always laugh at his behaviour which he does not appreciate.

"What are you laughing at? I don't see anything funny about it..."

Also did I mention how he smells like white musk?? You know like those scents that you smell and you just feel so in love??? Yeah that.

Honestly... 100/10 BOYFRIEND!!

[vrystalius]

Welcome, make yourself comfortable!

★彡

Make sure to eat, sleep and drink enough! <3

Please call me Vry <3. I am an amateur writer and occasionally make something out of clay. I’m from Germany and write in english, so please correct my grammatical/spelling errors!

My favourite pieces of media are Squid Game, Demon Slayer, Death Note, JoJo, Baldur’s Gate, Red Dead Redemption 2, Dragon Ball Z and more.

The fandom I currently write for is DEMON SLAYER, BG3, DATV and SQUID GAME.

My requests are currently ON HOLD.

I only write x reader fiction. For requests rules, please look below!

Warning: The masterlists have not been updated in a while. Forgive the confusion!

🐙The masterlist for Squid Game.

—

🪻Masterlist for the Hashira (Demon Slayer)

🪻Masterlist for the Demons. (Demon Slayer, not updated)

—

💠 Here are the characters I write for. (For KNY requests)

💠 Here are the request rules. Please check it out before requesting!

—

Event Masterlist (Demon Slayer):

Spooky season 2024 —

★彡

— Do not copy, translate or feed my work to AI. —

Here’s my yap & art blog…

[a-random-weeb]

Bsd men when their S/O is on their period

I'm currently making my monthly blood sacrifice, so why not make headcannons? My emotional stability on my period be like: 📉

I get really angry, pissed at everything, clingy, and sad (mostly angry) while on my period, as well as really bad cramps, and the mood swings are horrible, so that's what I'm writing for.

Also, sorry I haven't been writing, remember how I said I was sick? Yeah well I'm so sick I can barely eat, I'm going to school but I constantly feel like I'm gonna throw up, I feel like shit, and that's why I'm posting as much. I've been trying to post once a day though

Characters: Akutagawa, Chuuya, Dazai

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Akutagawa:

•he probably doesn't even know what a period is

•When you begin to get mood swings, he's so confused

•When you explain what a period is, he thinks you're dying

•He offers to call an ambulance, and is so confused when you say it's normal

•you have to bleed your guts out every month and there's nothing you can do about it?

•I mean- he knows what a period is from gin, he's not completely ignorant

•Gin probably never talked about it much though

•she was probably one of those girls who was really embarrassed to be on her period, and still kinda is.

•When you try to struggle explain it's physically impossible, he's even more confused

•he thinks periods are so complicated

•He still secretly thinks you're gonna bleed to death, and is really worried 💀

•He also thinks it's kind of gross😭

"Why are you in so much pain?! You're bleeding?! What the hell?! Wdym, you're dying, do I have to call an ambulance?! .... What do you mean by 'period'? Oh wait, Gina told me about them..."

─── ⋆⋅ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ⋅⋆ ──𓂃········╮-`♡´--`♡´-___________༄-

Chuuya:

•Unlike Akutagawa, he's a little more educated

•He doesn't know EVERYTHING, but he knows a bit

•He definitely knows about the mood swings and cramps from the girls in the Mafia (Gin, Higuchi, Kyouka, Kyoyo ←(idk how to spell her name), ect.)

•He's too afraid to ask questions, he has to keep his pride!

•you both probably got in a big fight because of how angry you get and his anger issues, resulting in you crying and clinging to his side.

•He kind of likes it when you're on your period, even though it's not the end of the world, he treats it like it is

•what? Its an excuse to take care of you. Plus he loves how clingy you are

•He buys you pads or tampons while in your period, aswell as those cute animal heating packs

•He also buys you chocolate.

•He cuddles you while you're having cramps, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you hold the heating pack to your stomach

•other than the mood swings and cramps, it's pretty normal

•I mean, it doesn't change your whole day-to-day schedule (depending on how bad your cramps are)

"You're on your period? Are you good on pads and whatever? Alright, we can buy more? You want chocolate too? Jeez lady... Oh nononononononono, don't cry, we can get chocolate!"

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷

Dazai:

•He feels bad for all the cramps you have

•That doesn't stop him from teasing you though

•He's an asshole about it at first

•Until he learns his lesson

•He's scared of your period after you snap at him

•Though, he finds it adorable when you cuddle up to him, all apologetic after snapping at him

•if he teases you about it... well... He's probably too scared to 💀

•He buys you pads, heating packs, and chocolate with Kunikidas black card

•His excuse is "My baby is on her period, you want her to bleed her guts out in pain?" He guilts Kunikida into letting him use it (manipulative bitch- )

"Oh? My belladonna is on her period is she? Aren't you being a little dramatic about it- I TAKE IT BACK I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE DONT HURT ME!" (he's not serious btw, you're not abusing him 😭)

𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.

[inkedinfusions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 1

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

── ★ ˙ ̟ . 🗝 .ᐟ.ᐟ masterlist

next–⊱

𝟎𝟏 | 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

chapter word count: 3.1 k

content warnings: canon typical racism, blanket warnings

a/n: First chapter done!

It took me about a month to finally publish this, cause I kept coming back and changing the setting, characters and pacing lol. I'll try to update semi regularly, and I'm counting on my outline to scoop me out of writer's block. This chapter, as well as others, are still subject to minor changes, depending on how the story evolves. Also, happy birthday Zeke! (And Reiner)

Thanks for reading!

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐋 around you, mimicking the panicked torrent of thoughts stampeding through your mind. The ground beneath your fingers crumbles as you press onto it, sending more and more rubble up in the air.

Debris prickles at your eyes and cinders hack at your lungs. Your hair rises up and down and up again, and your heart rushes in your chest, palpitating with dread and confusion.

Where in the hell are you?

You wheeze, desperate to regain control over your breathing, your hand coming up to clutch the fabric of your shirt. Your eyes fight against the dirt to stay wide open, unwilling to forfeit information about the unknown situation you find yourself in.

An unsettling figure approaches you through the dust, their figure haloed by the afternoon sun. Alarms ring in your ears, and you scramble back on your hands and feet until your back crashes against a wall.

The figure stops, and as the dust clouds begin to dissipate, you catch a glimpse of the person on the other side.

Tall, lanky, and with an unreadable face, a blonde woman stares back at you, her blank expression contrasting your own.

The ringing in your ears subsides, beginning to bleed into the voice of the woman.

"–hear me?"

The woman tilts her head to the side, examining your figure. A second question is posed in your head.

"You–" Your voice breaks. "Who are you?"

Her eyes narrow slightly, and it almost drives you mad how little you can read her. Was this a kidnapping? But then, wouldn't you be bound with ropes or zip ties?

Your breath hitches when she comes closer, crouching, her face invading your vision. Her blunt cut hair tickles your cheeks, and your widened eyes dart around. Surely this was a mistake, right? Maybe she is just concerned for you; after all, that was quite the nasty fall you had experienced. Or so you think, as you can't recall what exactly you were doing here.

Yes, a fainting spell would explain everything. Mild concussion, spotty memory, concerned woman.

"You are not Ymir," she states.

Your thoughts of kidnappings and falls halt. The name the woman had uttered loops endlessly in your mind and everything falls silent.

There is absolutely no way.

"The... the goddess?" you ask in a small voice, not entirely believing in her factual way of saying it.

A beat passes. You clench your hands together, softly crushing small pieces of the rock that formed the terrace, further encrusting them into your palms. Jesus, would it kill this woman to blink once?

She looks you up and down, like there was something in your appearance that would tell her you were a fictional deity from an anime series.

"Who else?"

This lady is crazy. There was simply no other way of putting it, this lady is crazy. Yeah, you like Attack on Titan as much as the next person, but you don't go around claiming random strangers are characters in the show.

A scoff exits your mouth, your lips slightly curving at the ridiculous situation.

"Yeah, sure, and you're Eren Jaeger."

Silence envelops you both, your small grin faltering at her piercing gaze. She removes herself from your personal space, standing up and looking down at you.

A brief moment elapsed. You finally take in your surroundings, the ruins of an old castle taking away what little of your breath remained. Columns are erected at both sides of the vast courtyard, and you notice a few people mingling around. Oddly, both are looking in your direction. You still don't know how you got there, but you are sure that your memory will clear after a while.

"I fear I still haven't presented myself."

Her words send shivers down your neck, your body unconsciously anticipating the information, your eyes snapping at her face. You feel yourself leaning into the sound of her voice, entranced, as if she were a siren and you a sailor stranded on a rock.

"My name is Yelena."

You freeze.

No. No, she couldn't be serious.

"I am part of the Anti-Marleyan Volunteers. And you–" she narrows her eyes, "–shouldn't know that name."

Time slows down. Worlds are created from space debris, stars go supernova, civilizations flourish and perish. A miniature Big Bang reverberates in your consciousness, your psyche connecting and disconnecting plot points, characters, arcs, settings.

"I–" you chuckle nervously, "What? So you mean to tell me this is Eldia?"

"Marley, actually."

Your jaw drops. You have half a mind to tell her off, to stand up and dust your pants whilst chuckling at this woman's, at Yelena's, absurd story. And yet, something in her eyes tells you that she is not joking.

Your lips mouth an Oh, a headache forming while still struggling to accept this strange new reality you found yourself in. One where titans and goddesses and a boy with aquamarine eyes all exist.

Reality? No, no it couldn't be. A dream then. A very strange but realistic dream. You just need to ride it out, flow with it until time comes for you to wake up, relinquishing all opportunity to control it as always, unlike many of the people who claimed to command their lucid dreams. And you would start your day as you always did, and you would forget your dreams as you always did.

"You will come with me. We might have not gotten Ymir, but you... something tells me you are a good compromise."

Okay. Maybe not a dream.

Your eyebrows furrow and an objection rises in your throat, instantly extinguished under Yelena's intense glare. Closing your mouth, you find yourself once again surveying the terrace, this time more attentively.

If Yelena was truly who she said she was, then both of the other people were also likely Anti-Marleyan Volunteers. You even catch the eye of a dark skinned man – who you are nearly certain was Onyankopon – who is the one positioned closest to Yelena.

He looks at you with curiosity, but does not make a move to talk or walk towards you. And why would he? You may know his kind heart, but he doesn't know yours. Knowing someone without them knowing you was a strange feeling that you are not sure you like.

You exhale deeply, your hands coming up to your knees to aid you in standing up. While you aren't exactly ecstatic to be under Yelena's unsettling gaze for one more moment, there is truly no other option for you here, unless you fancy being taken in less as an invitee and more like a prisoner.

You dust off your pants and follow Yelena, as she turns around and makes some kind of sign to another Volunteer. They file around you, relatively close for you to distinguish their faces, but not enough for you to call them wardens.

You keep your eyes firmly planted on the back of Yelena's head, not wanting to appear nervous. You will your hands to relax and your breathing to even out, mentally preparing plan after contingency plan, drawing in everything you remembered about the characters' personalities.

No one talks to you still.

The train journey to, well, somewhere, is filled with awkward silence.

You fiddle with the loose threads of your jeans, your appearance making you stick out amongst the sea civilians spread out in the dark green booths. The coat and white armband they had given you did little to help feel like you blended in, not because of the garment, but because of the three people in your train cart that were aware of the separation between them and you. Neither meets your eye, but you had caught the man you didn't know the name of drilling holes into the back of your skull.

Yelena sits across from you in the cramped booth, alternating between scrutinizing you and looking out the window with half lidded eyes. You are ninety percent sure she was already figuring out the best way to integrate your abrupt arrival into Zeke's plan, replacing whatever role Ymir would have had had she appeared instead of you.

A shudder runs down your spine at the thought of the holder of the beast titan. If Yelena freaked you out, you definitely did not want to meet with him. At least Yelena was cold to you from the beginning, not bridging the line into a constructed friendly territory.

On the other hand, Zeke is nice, smart, charismatic. He would not hesitate to sacrifice you for his cause like Yelena, but he would stab you in the back with your birthday cake knife.

You hope that knowing of his future plans would enable you to see through him, read him less like an open book and more like an unknown language that looked similar to your mother tongue.

At one of the moments when Yelena wasn't watching you, you risk a glance at her figure. She looks about the same age as her animated counterpart, so you deduce that you must be a stone's throw away from canon, or already in it.

You slump against the plush seat, sighing. She is still in Marley, so they have not gone into contact with Paradis yet. Probably.

Oh god, Paradis.

If Marley is real, then Paradis is also real. And if Paradis, and more importantly, its walls are also real...

The thread you are pulling on snaps, directing your eyes towards your lap, noticing the tip of your fingers are stained an irritated red from twirling the strings around.

You clear your throat awkwardly, absentmindedly shifting in your seat.

"So, uh– where are we going, exactly?"

Your question is rewarded with Yelena's half lidded attention. Your eyes itch to look away, but you press on, determined to get answers out of the Volunteer.

"Apologies. It seems I haven't been clear enough."

The sentence alone is enough to fill you with dread, her calm tone doing wonders at sounding threatening. Maybe you are overthinking everything, but you can't help notice the juxtaposition between her serene intonation and the unhinged woman of your memories.

"You know things. Things that normal people shouldn't know. No – don't try to deny it," she says, putting her hand up when you try to protest.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," you lie through your teeth.

"You mentioned Eren Jaeger. Care to share how you know that name?"

You curse your ingenuity a few minutes ago, when you believed all of this to be some elaborate prank you had become the unwilling victim of. But who would automatically jump to the conclusion that they had been transmigrated to a fictional world?

When you fail to come up with a believable excuse as to why you knew of someone across the sea, Yelena takes your silence as its own answer.

"And then there's the matter of what you were doing in the ruins of the old Eldian empire."

You are rendered speechless once again. Scenes of a cruel king, a flying spear, and dried blood on rocks flash before your eyes, realizing a few minutes ago you were on the same spot where Ymir was killed. That explains why Yelena implied she was expecting her instead of you.

Maybe you could spin this in your favor. You blurt out your next words impulsively, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Maybe I am Ymir."

An unimpressed eyebrow rises on Yelena's forehead, not a single ounce of belief in her eyes. It is clear she knows you were lying out of your ass here, but you stand your ground.

"Need I remind you of how you scoffed at my words? Or maybe of how you referred to Ymir in the third person?"

Silence.

You fold. The pressure is too much, and you can't keep this ridiculous charade in front of her. Your fists clench and you look down, your face heating up from embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm not Ymir," you mumble.

A millionth of a fraction of Yelena's eyes softens. "I did think you were her for a second. Weird clothes, weirder confusion. Not to mention the tornado we found you in. But no," –she shakes her head– "you had the wrong age, and the wrong personality. At least according to our records."

"You still haven't answered my question," you retort, ignoring the sound part of your brain that was screaming at you to not provoke her, completely smoothing over her comment about a tornado. That was a problem for future you.

She simply smiles at you, slightly tilting her head to the side.

"Liberio."

This by itself is enough for you to slightly widen your eyes, the name of the city yet another confirmation of the world you are now in. What you know of Liberio sifts through your mind, alternating between images of a joyful festival, a declaration of war, and giant footsteps, turning all into nothing more than ash and dried blood. Yelena chuckles, identifying the hint of recognition in your eyes.

You fight back a shiver, both at her reaction, and at what is written to come.

Other than the tense and brief conversation between you and Yelena, nothing of importance happens on the train ride to Liberio. You simply shrink back into your seat, occasionally lifting your gaze from the floor to the fast paced view of the window.

After what feels like an eternity, a city replaces large fields of green and the train skids to a halt. Yelena stands up, and you follow her and the other two Volunteers out of the cart. Taking Onyankopon's hand when stepping down the train, you take in your first impression of Liberio.

It is... underwhelming to say the least.

The modern comforts and views you had experienced in your modern life make it difficult for you to be awed by an old timey train station, no matter how unbelievable the context with which you had come to it was. And yet, it had its small charms.

Small, because, just as you exit, a guard starts barking orders at the few of you with armbands. You are stunned for a second, not expecting the animosity with which you would be treated. Yelena grabs your arm, bringing you out of your brief stupor, and starts walking towards a sentry post.

"Don't stay behind," are the only words she provides.

You and Yelena, the only ones with armbands in your little Volunteer group, are ushered away into a line. Onyankopon and the other guy disappear into the crowd when you take your eyes off of them, too preoccupied with not straying from Yelena's steady steps.

One by one, the people in front of you present their own documents, verifying and validating their own reasons for being outside the internment zone. You shuddered. Internment zone, as if they were all animals under Marley's control and mercy.

You watch the same papers with which they bought your ticket be presented to the man in the booth, his mustache slightly curling in disgust as he takes in your white armbands. You curl into yourself, feeling awkward in your own skin, your eyes glossing over as you try to tune him out.

" – and this is his daughter."

Yelena's and the guards' sharp gazes turn to you, her voice pointedly signaling for you to speak.

You spout back the fake backstory the Volunteers had fed you beforehand. According to your legal documents, you are now the daughter of a diseased Eldian soldier, left alone after his death on the battlefield. The guards eyes flicker between you and the papers, making you squirm in place.

"So, uh, yeah, I'm staying with my father's distant relative," you finish lamely.

He gives you another do over with his eyes, narrowing them, before simply stamping something on the top sheet.

"Next!"

You let out a breath as you are once again whisked away by Yelena into a shuttle flanked by Marleyan soldiers, waiting for the handful of people still standing by for their turn to be inspected. You step inside the green tent set up in the back, sitting on one of the hard, wooden benches that adorn the interior.

Eventually, the truck's engine sputters to life, and starts moving towards what you assume to be the Eldian neighborhoods in the internment zone.

You stay still for the rest of the ride, as did the others, only swaying gently when the vehicle brakes or makes a turn, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of your too large coat. Not once do you look up to examine the faces of the other passengers with the limited sunlight that made its way inside the tarp.

After a while, you and Yelena finally exit the truck, making a beeline towards the large gates that marked the beginning of the zone. Like in the series, the big gates are open to welcome your small group, the guards choosing to loudly direct you towards it.

The tense silence between you two is only broken by the constant tip taps of your shoes against the rocks of the street. Couples, families and small children are all walking around that afternoon, and you crane your neck in order to see the various brick buildings scattered throughout the main avenue. Black lampposts line the street, and you guess that they'll turn on in a couple of hours, when the sunlight is no longer enough to illuminate the pavement.

Yelena steps into a much smaller street, almost an alleyway, and beckons for you to follow. The dark alley, in contrast to the crowded and well-lit avenue, only echoes your own stride, your breaths suddenly multiplying in noise.

She comes to a stop in front of an old wooden door, her hand fishing a key out of her pocket. The lock clicks, the door whines, and you are hastened inside.

You blink continuously, your eyes taking time to acclimate themselves to the inside. An old, basic room greets you, your nose detecting the faintest notes of woody bark and aged blankets.

Your ears zero in on the drip of the kitchen faucet. A raggedy, almost oxidized tap leaks to your right, making you turn to the origin of the sound. The lack of food and personal items betrays the house's status as one that was barely used, adding to your discomfort and the eerie atmosphere.

"Wait here a moment, please."

Yelena turns to you from the far left of the room, her hand on the handle of another door. It opens with a creak, and, as she steps inside, you are treated with a glimpse of gray eyes behind circular glasses. 

taglist: @dressycobra7

ask or comment to be added!

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ GOODNIGHT HAWAII ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Reader Who Suffers With Dissociative Episodes

★ Commissioner: Wishes To Remain Anonymous

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ She writes your name on her arm in marker. It was after the third time you forgot where you were, or worse—who she was. ENA had been in the middle of a passionate tirade against “the modern marketing mythos” when your eyes glazed over like glass, and you blinked yourself into some distant fragment of unreality. You said, “Who are you?” She didn’t yell. She didn’t even twitch. Instead, she pulled a marker from her cap like a magician might, uncapped it with her teeth, and scrawled your name across her forearm in an all-caps blocky font. “THIS IS YOURS,” she said proudly, holding it out like a trophy. It didn’t fix anything. But it felt like it could.

☆ Salesperson ENA tries flashcards. You open your eyes in her room one evening and don’t recognize a single thing. Not the bed. Not the ceiling fan that’s spinning in stilted, fractured time. Not even her. “Oh! You’re awake! Hang tight—commencing memory recovery protocol.” She whips out a little stack of index cards with hand-drawn doodles: A triangle. A cracked megaphone. A stick figure labeled “YOU.” Another labeled “ME.” She flips them one by one with such speed and enthusiasm that it makes your head spin. You forget your name again by the fourth card, but you remember her laugh. It’s enough.

☆ Meanie ENA yells at your dissociation like it’s an enemy. The first time you zoned out mid-conversation and didn’t respond for several minutes, she snapped. “HEY! HELLO?! EARTH TO MEMORY GLITCH! WHAT KIND OF SCAM IS THIS?!” You flinched—like she’d caught you doing something shameful. But then she quieted. “…I wasn’t yelling at you. I was yelling at the thing that stole you.” She sat beside you in awkward silence, gripping your sleeve like she could anchor you to now. “You’re not allowed to go on solo missions anymore,” she mumbled. “Take me with you next time, idiot.”

☆ Her business metaphors get painfully heartfelt. When you get overwhelmed and feel yourself slipping, Salesperson ENA will rattle off a strange pitch, like: “You’re an asset under temporary recession, but your emotional capital remains intact!” “I’m projecting a 12% rebound in your cognitive presence, just give it time.” It’s ridiculous. It’s corporate nonsense. But it’s her nonsense. And the sincerity behind the words is so fierce it almost hurts.

☆ She starts narrating your life when you go nonverbal. When your words vanish like fog at sunrise, ENA’s voice fills the silence. “Today, our protagonist finds themselves amidst an internal coup, the memory department on strike again. Will they recover their agency? Or will the villainous void claim another victory?” Sometimes she makes you a hero. Sometimes she makes you a fish. One time you were an onion with a tragic backstory. But always, always, she ends with: “And yet, against all odds, they persist.” You mouth “thank you” through the static in your brain.

☆ Meanie keeps a logbook—just in case. She never admits it out loud, but tucked under her pillow is a tattered notebook full of messy scribbles. Things you’ve told her. Things you’ve forgotten. Things she wants you to remember, but knows you might not. There are entries like: “They laughed today. I don’t know why. But it made me feel less gross inside.” “Tried to yell when they forgot my name. Didn’t help. Will try quieter next time.” You found it once. She slapped it out of your hands. “HEY! THAT’S NOT FOR YOU YET!!”

☆ She builds you a ‘reality anchor’ box. One day she arrives with a cardboard box full of the most useless junk. A cracked plastic clock. A plush that vaguely resembles her. A page torn from a magazine with your name spelled wrong. “I call it the HERE AND NOW box!” she beams, adjusting her hat proudly. You stare at her. “…That’s just a spoon.” “It’s a symbolic spoon, okay? Grounding! Therapy stuff! I researched it on the shady side of the internet.” You touch the spoon when your mind feels foggy. It’s warm from her hands. It’s not a cure. But it’s a reminder.

☆ Meanie learns to stop blaming you. At first, every memory slip made her feel like you were betraying her on purpose. “Why do you always disappear when it matters?! I’m not nothing to you!” But one day, when you forgot her name entirely and said it in tears—“I don’t want to forget you”—something shifted. She just sat down. Quiet. “You’re not doing this to me, huh?” She apologized. Clumsily. “S-sorry for acting like your symptoms had intent. That was…dumb.” You said, “It’s okay.” She said, “No. It’s you. That’s why I care.”

☆ Salesperson ENA leaves you voice memos. She installs a strange little recorder on your jacket collar that plays whenever it senses you spacing out. “Ping! You’re still here! You’re doing amazing! I know you’re scared, but your brain is not broken—it’s just… buffering!” Another message is her reading you a poem about ducks. The next is her explaining quantum physics very, very wrong. You never know what’s coming. But her voice, bouncing in your ear like a lifeline, always pulls you back.

☆ Both sides learn that being earnest matters more than being perfect. They try so hard. And most of the time, they get it wrong. Salesperson ENA overwhelms you with charts and graphs about recovery rates. Meanie ENA tells dissociation to “go punch itself.” But they never leave. They never act like you’re a burden. And when you finally say, “Thank you for trying,” ENA looks stunned. “Of course,” she says, softer than usual. “You’re the only investment I’d never divest from.” Even Meanie turns red. “Ugh. You’re lucky I’m sentimental now.”

[an0ldworld]

how i think Hobie would react to GN!reader calling them their husband casually, even though they’re not married.

Hobie Brown x GN!reader

established relationship, of course

warnings: none

requests: open i am BEGGING for requests i’m so bored

hobie, hobie brown !

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

okay, so we all know that hobie doesn’t believe in labels, but he also doesn’t believe in consistency so shhh

i’ve gotta imagine marriage is something he both hates and loves- the societal expectations for just two people to become legally bonded in these massive money wasting ceremonies just rubs him the wrong way

all a scam and propaganda to distract you from the truth with a passing moment of false sense of security, yeah ?

sooo if you just spontaneously call him ur husband one day, hobie is smitten because fuck norms am i right

like if it’s super off handed when ur with the other spider-people the brit is just so very overjoyed

“ay, yeh- you get that? you hear that? hus-band! that’s my hubby.” really enjoys spelling out the syllables, probably sling an arm around you at this point and is holding you so close while grinning like an anarchist that just tripped a cop into a puddle

you guys never called yourself labels like “partners” “boyfriends” or any of that, but Hobie’s a little obsessed w names like “hubby” and generally endearing names for spouses

isn’t a fan of the whole wedding band thing, yet another thing that’s robbing people blind with price of diamonds n shit

if you’re both comfortable just knowing that you love each other beyond what a piece of paper says, then he’s more than content to just happily know this and not do anything to beat the whole significance behind your guys’ rebellious approach to marriage

it’s your happy little secret how it went down. you both know it and your whole relationship has been a “we know we love each other, doesn’t matter what we call it or who else knows” kinda situation, because why would anyone else matter at point ?

that being said, mans less low-key around people like Miguel just because he loves to do everything in his power to make his life just a bit worse, because fuck authority

will talk about a non existent honeymoon that simply never happened, there are dozens of different retellings of this event that are completely fabricated

“remember on our honeymoon? when we- yeah, that’s it. still can’t believe we took down that syndicate.”

“Nah, they’ve got it. On our honeymoon, they [insert a comedic falsehood]”

likes to quote the wedding vows you guys never said, climbing through your window at night after being involved in a smack down, man’s roughed up and he’s just like “through sickness and in health” like a smug bastard before probably collapsing onto something. or you

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

this was a super quick thing i whipped together on a bus, lemme know if you wanna see this w different characters and i’ll see what i can do !

[eaglet-if]

Орлёнок (Eaglet)

Орлёнок (Eaglet) is an interactive story set in a country similar to 1910s-1920s Russia. You're a member of the overthrown Imperial Family, shaping the future of the Empire by virtue of arms.

It aims to be equal parts role-playing, dress-up and strategy game, with an emphasis on romance.

Although there will be no explicit nsfw scenes, it does include graphic descriptions of the horrors of war as well as personal tragedies, so please refer to the content warnings at the end of this post.

(as the project is still a wip, this overview is somewhat incomplete and will be gradually updated in tandem with the progress of writing)

DEMO: here (v0.0.2a, 21.06.2024)

Forum post: here

Number Spelling Function (IF writer resource): here

Secondary project: @a-dying-wish-if Tertiary (mini-)project: @perceptron-failure-if Quaternary project: [redacted]

The Empire of Nevetskiya - old, proud, and utterly dilapidated. While the Industrial Revolution has enabled other Monarchies - after a few quickly suppressed workers' uprisings - to become modern colonialist superpowers, exerting their influence all over the world, Nevetskiya is still overwhelmingly agrarian, and barely holding onto its outlying territories acquired in golden times long past.

Your Father Emperor, while ruling with an iron fist and unquestionable authority over the common people, is completely dependent on the shaky loyalty of the High Nobility, who frustrate any attempt to modernize the economy or administration, out of fear upstart merchants might, in time, replace the old Aristocracy.

When a sloppily executed coup d'etat eventually leaves your family dead and you a refugee, it becomes time you grab the reins of your destiny and amass an army to liberate and rebuild the country in the way you envision.

(this is meant to be a concise overview - a more exiting and detailed description of features can be found in the offical Interest Check Thread post)

extensive character customization

extensive army customization - both in a strategy and in a dress-up game sense

focus on story over stats - success is determined on the battlefield, not by your character's personality

five distinct regions with a wide cast of characters

complex personality system - for example, how your character actually feels and what they show to the world are separate things

several ways to rule - will you become a traditional Monarch, a Military Dictator, a democratically elected Head-of-State, or maybe proclaim yourself a Living Saint?

choose how much modernization is needed - will you allow women to bear arms, at the cost of offending the traditionalist nobles? Introduce tanks at the cost of foreign powers gaining influence?

how far will you go for victory? A political police, mass executions and the use of special types of weaponry might give you an edge, but is your vision really worth it?

a total of ten romanceable characters

(this naturally might contain slight spoilers)

The ROs

★ Yakov Tymofiyevich Sokolovskiy / Liliya Tymofiyevna Sokolovskaya ★

The Intelligence Director (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. As a member of the High Nobility, you've met them before - maybe you've even been childhood friends?

But even if you know them, it's hard to tell what they're truly like, as they seem to switch personalities effortlessly depending on the situation.

Their work is a mystery to seemingly everyone, but they always get results: as long as you let them act freely, no enemy agent has any chance to harm you or your cause.

Age: mid-20s

★ Semyon Ivanovich Orlov / Selena Ivanovna Orlova ★

The Cavalry Officer (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. A war hero and renowned expert when it comes to horses, the only reason they were not yet promoted to a lofty position in the War Ministry is their pragmatic approach to new developments, which hasn't mixed well with the typically very traditionalist views of the old Imperial officer corps.

Possessing a subdued but strong charisma and deeply respected by their soldiers as a wise parent figure, they are a solid pillar of support to you, and will reliably get things done - though some people might consider the cost for that too high sometimes.

Age: early 30s

★ Mikhail Pavlovich Voronin / Marina Pavlovna Voronina ★

The Young Visionary (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. They shot up through the ranks by impressing the War Ministry with bold new ideas for utilizing modern technologies and are hailed as a genius by many - though the older officers dismiss them as a dreamer at best and incompetent fool at worst.

With you, they hope to have found someone who'll appreciate their visions for the future - plus, their relative eccentrism has left them in dire need of a friend.

Their technical expertise might just prove to be the key to your success - if you can secure the foreign support needed to get the modern equipment needed to utilize it.

Age: early 20s

★ Leon Isayev / Leah Isayeva ★

The Noble Academic (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. Born to wealthy nobles, they graduated the Imperial Officer Academy with perfect grades, and feel honour-bound to your family.

They were the one to gather your initial force of loyalists and act as your primary advisor. But their loyalty is to the Imperial system, with you just a symbolic representative - can you convince them that you and your vision deserve their loyalty beyond that?

Age: late 20s

★ 'Little' Semyon/Selena Shvets ★

The Hero (gender-selectable)

A young cavalry officer and leader of your Southern Forces. A protegé of the "other" Semyon/Selena, they lack their cynical pragmatism, but make up for it with a firm belief in the triumph of a better world.

Some may call their optimism naive, and their personality has been mockingly compared to a Golden Retriever, but they have proven time and time again that underestimating them on the battlefield results in a crushing defeat.

Age: early 20s

★ Nikola ★

The Rebel (nb)

Leading an anti-authoritarian peasant uprising in the West, Nikola is more likely to be your enemy than your ally - but they don't seem to care enough about politics to refrain from flirting with you, so... there might be a basis of mutual understanding there?

Their personality is pretty sweet, at least - if you ignore the fact they'll cheerfully gun down prisoners if they feel like it.

Age: mid-20s

★ Rakhmil/Rakhilya Feldman ★

The Logistician (gender-selectable)

A member of the Western Rebel Army and best friend of Nikola's adoptive sibling, they've poured their soul (and countless nights without any sleep) into somehow maintaining the rebels' supply network in the face of their rapidly swelling numbers.

Unhappy with Nikola's carefree attitude, they might end up aligning with you instead in order to save their cause.

Age: late 20s

★ Arseniy Matveyevich Lebedev / Amaliya Matveyevna Lebedeva ★

The Enemy (gender-selectable)

Grand Duke Lebedev, the main leader of the Aristocrat faction, stood by and watched when your family was executed. Arseniy/Amaliya is their younger sibling, and serves as military commander of his personal forces that aid several warlords in their efforts to establish their own petty kingdoms.

But they're already uncomfortable with their brother's methods, and if you can convince them that you're not actually "an incompetent little puppet who's trying to ruin the country out of arrogant delusions", they might become a very valuable ally.

Age: mid-20s

★ Lyudmila Demyanovna Naumova ★ (f)

A minor noble who reluctantly turned into a Warlord in order to protect her territory and her people. All she wants is peace - but she'll not hesitate to fight if she believes it necessary.

Unfortunately, you can't just ignore her - all must choose a side in this war - but you have options how to deal with her. Will you subdue her by force? Or fall back on the age-old option of political marriage to secure an alliance?

Age: late 20s

★ Jan/Jana Novotný ★ (gender-selectable, under certain circumstances)

A member of your Personal Guard who has distinguished themself and eventually rises to become its commander. Others might betray or doubt you, but Novotný only cares about one thing - your continued, unharmed existence.

And they will go to any lengths to guarantee it.

Age: mid-20s

CONTENT WARNINGS

...will be added as they become relevant in the demo.

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 9.1k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ SFW! heian era!au, concubine!reader, true form!Sukuna, established relationship (married), major character death, canon typical violence, era typical misogyny/gender roles, unhealthy obsession, mentions of death, mentions of cannibalism and blood, (Sukuna is a lunatic), Sukuna is referred to exclusively as “Lord Sukuna”

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ The canon will begin to matter less and less as this story goes on it seems, but it will all make sense I swear!

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

There are two bodies to burn. The sparse tinder is laid by careful hands. In the deep cold of winter the earth has so few things to spare, only the thin branches of a fledgling tree bowed over by the blistering wind. The wood is dead and brittle, splintering like breaking bones where it’s been bent into curving shapes. Tied with twine in a braided wreath of ashen wood to surround First Mistress’ body. She’s laid over a fine fur in her most sumptuous clothes and most lustrous jewels, the broken parts of her carefully placed where they’re meant to be attached to her body. Beneath her clothes, parts of Jurina are missing. A bit of flesh flayed from her ribs, a gouge taken out of her thigh. There’s a thin square of white silk laid over her face, hiding the claw masks and the fissure where her head was nearly torn from her body. The wound flutters in and out of sight as the wind stirs the edge of the white sheet, flashing the curving groove where Lord Sukuna fit his teeth into her flesh and tore. 

The fire catches quickly after the priests say their rites, burrowing like red mice through the wood. Burning tongues leapt from wood to fabric, outfitting Jurina’s body in a brilliant, golden shroud for only a moment before her clothes are burning away and the fire takes to skin. The perfumed wood dampens the scent of burning flesh but it will soon become overpowering as the small crowd gathers to pay their respects before the pyre. There’s weeping for mistress and servant alike as Jurina’s personal maid chose to continue serving her in the afterlife. There was little attention given to her body. She’s simply laid beside Jurina with her collar of bruises from the white silk that had choked the life from her throat. Her name escapes you and you wonder if she has a family that needs to be informed of their loss. A raven was already sent out by Uraume to inform Jurina’s clan of her demise at the hands of the King of Curses. 

It’s your hope that Uraume elected to omit the extent of the damage done to Jurina’s body so that her family might have some peace in their ignorance. The winter winds snuff out lives like blowing out candles, ravaging weaker bodies with boiling fevers and gasping coughs that never seem to pass. It’s just the right season for pneumonia and illnesses of that ilk. Let them think that she went with some semblance of peace. It’s a selfish sort of wish as you watch the snow hiss and turn to steam over Jurina’s funeral pyre. It would absolve you of blame, remove the hand you had in her death with your careless words. Poisonous tongue spelling out her death. She’d been staring at you when she died, or perhaps she was dead before her glassy eyes rolled towards you standing at the edge of the engawa, snow dotting your lashes and melting into moisture when the tears wouldn’t come. You hadn’t wanted her death but you can’t find it in yourself to be saddened by the loss. 

Even so, you clasp your hands in prayer along with the remaining Mistresses. Still three despite Fourth Mistress’ arrival. Now Second Mistress is the wife with the most seniority and yet she stands to your right, a subtle show of deference that hadn’t been there only so many hours before. The night has stretched on for a small eternity, bleeding into daylight without reprieve as the household scrambled to deal with Jurina’s death. Messengers were sent out in the waning storm to fetch priests from the village, servants were dispatched to clean Jurina’s chamber and erect a platform for her to be burned upon. Tatami mats were changed and floors were scrubbed. The blood soaked courtyard has been renewed with another layer of downy snow to cover the splatters of blood where Lord Sukuna dragged Jurina outside to make a spectacle of her death. He tore at her with a deranged sort of satisfaction, grinning when he saw you watching, as if he’d only been waiting for a moment to tear her apart. She burst open between his teeth and claws like a ripe fruit, spilling across the snow in a brilliant spray of crimson. And all you did was watch, trying to remind yourself that Jurina wasn’t like you. She was still human in a way that you weren’t. 

Her dedication was to herself above all else, perhaps her clan came second. Lord Sukuna wasn’t a priority in her mind. Her world was vast, reaching far beyond the bounds of the Ryomen estate. During meals she would tut over letters she received from her clan, bemoaning the poor marriage of a cousin or cooing over the news of a new baby. She needled the servants for gossip whenever they returned from an errand outside the estate. Jurina was just a woman and she died as a woman would at the hands of a being like Lord Sukuna; screaming. She’ll be happy to know that he isn’t in attendance to watch her flesh and bones be rendered to ash, her favorite maid beside her. When the smoke clears they’ll be swept into urns or perhaps tossed out with the dirt swept off the engawa. It’s your hope that she’ll be sent home. It’s clear she never belonged here and it would be cruel for this forbidden corner of the world to be her final resting place. 

There’s also a piece of you that thinks she doesn’t deserve the honor of being laid to rest here. Though you suppose decisions like this will be left up to you now that there is no First Mistress to lead the household. Lord Sukuna has made it plainly clear that those responsibilities and honors are now yours. So when a servant comes to ask what should be done when the fire is quelled you send them to find some proper urns of expensive material for Jurina and her maid to be gathered in before being sent off. It doesn’t escape your notice that the servant stopped quite a ways away from you. In fact everyone seems to be giving you a breadth that borders on excessive. As if so much as breathing a breath of air that passed through your lungs will have their body burning next. Everyone that already treated you like a piece of glass is suddenly too fearful to even raise their head in your presence. It’s only Uraume that speaks to you as they had hours ago, entering your chamber with only the lightest knock on the shoji. They find you plucking tunelessly at the strings of your koto with only candlelight as your company. 

The midday sky is gray and dim, still choked with the clouds of the breaking storm. Dull light bleeds through the thick paper of the shoji leading outside. The faintest firelight as Jurina continues to burn. 

“Have you slept?” Uraume asks, coming to sit beside you. You haven’t. There’d been no time to sleep. Hours have passed since Lord Sukuna returned home, since he took you in the bathhouse, since he tore Jurina apart. Hours spent making arrangements and delegating tasks so that this funeral could be held in a timely manner. It’s doubtless that if Lord Sukuna had presided over the proceedings he would’ve simply sent Jurina to the kitchen and used her bones to pick his teeth when he was through with the meal. It would’ve been an honor to be so wholly consumed by her husband but Jurina likely wouldn’t have seen it as the blessing it was. To be so desired that Lord Sukuna wanted to devour every bit of her. To use her body as a means to bolster his own. A shiver trickles down your back as Uraume gathers your hair to comb, the chill of their skin cutting deep. 

“The raven you sent to her family… Did you say how she died?” You ask carefully. 

“She died serving her king.” They say evenly. Of all the people bowing to your lord husband, it is only Uraume that understands you completely. The servants were wailing and whispering about the cruelty of their lord but what cruelty was there? A doll doesn’t despair when the owner breaks it. Jurina’s porcelain face was cracked and her straw body torn open, but what higher purpose is there than to serve the whims of something greater than yourself? Jurina was ill fit to be Lord Sukuna’s wife. She didn’t understand duty or sacrifice. She didn’t understand her place beneath him. Not in the way that you did. A flower doesn’t question the might of a tree nor the warmth of the sun. 

“How do you feel?” Uraume asks, leaning closer than any servant would dare. If they were anyone else, you might stifle at the audacity, but it feels as though the two of you are cut from the same cloth. As Lord Sukuna’s wife, you are an extension of his being. And no one would dare to touch him so intimately without permission. No one except Uraume. They chuckle and ask, “Are you happy?”

“I’m happy. Always.” The feeling is innate. Whether Jurina lived or died, your happiness would remain the same. There’s no great pleasure taken in her demise, nor is there the pang of loss. It feels like something akin to relief. A thorn finally removed from your skin. The itching, burning sting of her presence has been removed at last and you’ll only be strengthened by it. It’s already begun. The servants had come to you for guidance once the house physician had declared Jurina dead. There was no need for the commotion of an official declaration. She looked like a butchered animal by the end. And when the fire dies, nothing will be left of her but ash and memories. She’ll be swept up and sent away, forgotten with the melting snow. 

“Did Jurina serve her purpose? Truly?” 

“No,” Uraume answers without hesitation. “I don’t think any of Lord Sukuna’s wives have served their purpose. Certainly none more so than you, sweet girl.” There were never any honorifics between you and Uraume, at least not in private. They saw you as an equal, perfectly matched in your standing with Lord Sukuna. 

It feels like an honor you’ve yet to earn. Uraume would wage war for your lord husband. You could do no such thing. Even with your cursed technique, you’d be useless in battle. Uraume was lethal, a blade in Lord Sukuna’s hand where you were simply a plucked flower. A blade can be sharpened and polished, but sooner or later a flower would wilt and wither, and your time as a person of importance would pass. Whether it be by death or age, you’d soon be without purpose and Lord Sukuna would likely do away with you as he had Jurina. You can only hope he’ll honor you with consumption. To know that, even in death, you’d been of some minuscule use would soothe your soul. 

Sometimes you find yourself wondering if you’d become a curse, though the only thing worth cursing in this life would be Lord Sukuna. It wouldn’t be so unimaginable that you’d cling to your lord husband even after death. You pledged yourself to him in this life and the next. To go to a place where he cannot follow would be to abandon your vows. And you’d loath to be an unfaithful wife. 

“You’re tired,” Uraume said, though you hadn’t acknowledged the lethargy yourself. They finish the careful task of combing through the last section of your hair before urging you to lay down. 

“Shall I prepare your tea?” You shake your head. It’s become a nightly ritual to have tea before you sleep, but there is no strength left in your body to wait for Uraume to prepare it. Usually the task was left to your personal maid but she is nowhere to be found. Uraume has made the offer but you imagine it to be a simple courtesy rather than a genuine offer. They aren’t your servant to be ordering about. That honor is reserved solely for your lord husband no matter if they offered the service themselves. 

“Sleep for now,” they hum, “I’ll wake you if there is a need for your presence.” Which is to say, if Lord Sukuna calls for you. No other task would be worthy of rousing you from your rest. They tuck you into your futon and blow out each candle before leaving you alone in the darkness. There’s still the faint flickering of the pyre crackling in the courtyard, but it’s easily ignored as fatigue settles over you. 

It seems as though no time has passed at all when you rouse to wakefulness, yet you feel perfectly rested. The light slipping in from outside is that same pale orange glow that sent you to sleep; reminiscent of firelight, yet there is no crackling of burning wood and smoldering flesh. Instead there’s the faint whistling call of the wind and the strangest sound of scratching. At first you imagine it to be a wayward branch scraping against the eaves or the sound of geta scuffing against the wooden walkway. But the sound is too close, too concise to be an untrimmed tree or heavy-footed servant. It was closer to the sound of woodwork. The same noise that preceded Jurina’s pyre as branches were cut and stripped of the snow-sodden bark so the fire would not pittle and hiss over damp wood. The faint whittling noise comes from outside. The sound of scratching sounds nearer still. 

In the gray-gold light, you see the edge of something shift like a shadow dancing between flickering candlelight. But there are no candles burning. No shadows dancing. The shape in the corner of your room seems far more tangible than any trick of the light. It twitches and writhes like an overturned beetle, wriggling between the seam of the adjacent walls like water leaking through a crack. 

Waves of cursed energy surge from the corner like miasma, permeating the room. The scent of it stings your nose and clings to your tongue with the acidity of poison. The curse moans deep and haunting. An almost lyrical sound, as if a dozen voices are folding over each other, like plucking every string of a koto at once. A discordant whimpering undercut by the sound of digging and clawing as it peels away the planks of wood to make space for itself. The walls begin to squeal and splinter, tearing away to allow the winter morning and the curse inside. 

Its bulging eyes wriggle, protruding like those of a frog, and twitching as though it’s a hardship to focus them both so singularly on something. One arm falls away from its scratching and three more follow. The weight of each limb hitting the floor sounds much like a bag of peaches tumbling in a cart. It twitches, body contacting inward until it’s a thick bulging ball of pale flesh before it flattens and drags itself forward on its four arms. It moans again, bearing its long, blunt teeth. Again, it moans, and you think you hear the number three. Then again with more clarity,

“Three, three, three.” It whimpers ceaselessly as it drags its bulging body towards you. Its skin is shapeless and loose like a boiled dumpling, contracting into a thick mass before stretching thin as it drags itself towards you with the agility of a caterpillar. Its face is snow white with red horns peeking out from beneath a hood of pale flesh. For a moment, you consider a monster trying to hide its true face, laughing at the absurdity of it. The sound of hysteria bubbles from your lips louder than any other had, and it only seemed to incense the creature. It dragged itself closer with more ferocity. The moaning chant of “three, three, three,” only gets louder. 

When it’s close enough, it slashes at you, slow and clumsy like a child playing swords with a stick. The morning chill overtakes you as you leap from the futon in a cloud of silk and fur. The curse hisses, then tries again, and when it misses once more the noise it makes is something like a wail. It sounds far too anguished, far too human. The sound sinks beneath your skin, deep enough to rattle your heart and you shiver in your hakama. Your own voice is lost somewhere in your throat, tangled between your quickened breaths and thundering heartbeat. 

Curses aren’t meant to speak, they’re incapable of it. And yet this one reaches towards you with taloned fingers, groaning “three, three, three.” 

It lumbers through the room, weight knocking over side tables. It swings its thick arms, claws grasping to rend your flesh from your bone as it chases you. Needles prick at the soles of your feet as you stumble through the hole torn through the wall, splinters of wood stippling through your socks as the curse herds you onto the engawa. The prickling of wood shards gives way to something wet, though far too warm to be ice melting off the eaves. Your eyes are far too intent on the creature dragging itself out of the hole it burrowed into your room to spare a glance at the ground, and you go from staring at the pale creature to looking up at the light sky. 

The cold is immediately, stabbing into you like a dozen blades as snow clouds your lashes. A cloud of it drifts down around you, stirred through the air as you land. Gray clouds roll by overhead as you make a wheezing noise. The air rattle inside your lungs as you try to regain the breath that had been knocked from your chest in the fall from the engawa. It hadn’t been a far drop but you hardly had breath in your lungs to start, too startled to take more than shallow gasps of air. The curse comes poking over the edge of the walkway, tossing itself into the snow beside you. 

“Get back.” Your voice is as thin as the wind whistling through the courtyard. “Stay away from me.” The curse wails again. Deeper as if it meant to give the toneless sound meaning. “Three, three, THREE!” It says it as if it’s your name, reaching towards you through the snow. Belatedly, you realize that it is your name. You are Third Mistress. Third, Three. The curse bellows the word again, moving like a slug through mud as it drags its malformed body through the bank of snow. Still on your back, steeped in the chill seeping through your thin robe, you watch as the curse reaches towards you with grasping claws. There’s a pondering to your gaze as your eyes watch the dull glint of the morning light wink off the edge of its claws. Jurina had always been so preoccupied with her perfect nails. A talon finds your cheek, scratching a burning line across your face before the connected limb bursts like a crushed melon. 

Hot viscera replaces the frigid kiss of the wind as bright purple blood and bits of white flesh rain down over your face. It’s nearly warm enough to scald, made worse by the shrieks of pain ringing in your ears as the curse writhes in the snow. Clouds of frost dance around its wriggling body though it doesn’t seem to move far. With muscles tensed and shivering, you shove yourself onto your elbows to see over the veil of churning snow. The curse is pinned to the ground with spears of ice. Wailing and thrashing to be free. The stump of its arm still reaches for you, joined by the three that remain. You find your knees, then slowly your feet, only to be knocked into the snow once more as a pillar of ice shatters and a flailing hand reaches towards you in another spray of violet blood. The feeling burns hot as fire, spreading through your body like sparks through a dry brush. Warmth blooms through your side, seeping over your hip and down the length of your thigh as blood weeps from the wound torn through your side. 

The feeling of warmth blooms between your fingers as you press your hands against the gouge taken from your torso. It’s a strange, hollow feeling. As if your body has yet to accept the prospect of pain just yet. It comes in waves, lapping over you in an ebb and flow as your vision begins to swim. Everything is hot as fire and cold as ice. The world looks as though you’re seeing it through a cloud of steam, rippling and fading as you blink through the blood loss. This feeling isn’t new and yet the feeling hasn’t lessened in its intensity. There’s a sound that you find familiar. Frantic and sharp as a bird chirping at the rising sun. It grows colder still, though there’s comfort in the chill as you recognize the shape of arms wrapping around you. It hurts as they squeeze at the hole gaping in your side, still weeping red tears of blood through the silk of your hakama. The chirping turns to feral growls, a wolf bearing its teeth, and the curse wails anew. It sounds like Jurina if only vaguely. Shrill and bitter. The ground had only just been dusted with a cover of snow, hiding the place her blood had been spilled. Now it was your turn. 

Dazedly, you blink up towards the sky, lashes shining with tears or melting snowflakes as a face swims through your periphery. The soft chirping returns and you try to piece together the sounds over the weeping curse. A voice that you recognize. It soothes your fluttering heart, lessens the flames still burning where part of your body is missing, and more is still spilling onto the snow. A red puddle blooming over a sea of white. It reminds you of Uraume’s hair, and reminds you that their voice has always been melodic like birdsong. It must be them holding you so gently, speaking soft words to you though your hearing has faded to the sound of your blood and breath, like hiding your head beneath a pillow. Something cold and soft brushes over your face and you imagine it might be the gentle fingers of your protector, but your eyes can’t find anything other than the vaguest shapes. 

Everything has melded into a light wash. Gray sky, white snow, ivory-skinned curse. Everything is white until it isn’t. A sudden burst of color as a shade of sunset pink appears overhead. So far above that, for a moment, you truly think it to be the sun. But the sun has no teeth to bare, no eyes to watch those beneath its shining face. But, perhaps, he can be considered your sun as Lord Sukuna sneers at the curse still sniveling a few paces ahead. It’s pinned and bleeding. Pierced with long shards of Uraume’s ice formation. Lord Sukuna’s towering form stoops to look at the creature before his sights are set on you. He reaches out and for a moment you expect the gentility of a caress against your frigid cheek. Instead his hand closes around your neck, choking the last dregs of air from your lungs as he lifts you from Uraume’s arms. His height leaves you dangling far above the ground, legs too numb to kick though you have no reason to protest such rough treatment. Punishment is in order. 

How shameful you are. The daughter of an unimpeachable sorcerer clan unable to defend herself. The wife of the King of Curses being maimed by the hands of another. Your life was not for anyone but your lord husband’s to take and yet you feel the familiar feeling of your body giving out. Made worse by the way Lord Sukuna’s fist is closed tight around your throat. Your head feels swollen, vision darkened as the pressure bursts the capillaries in your eyes. Lord Sukuna regards you with vague interests. His four eyes dance over your face, likely taking in the way your lips must be deepening to an asphyxiated blue as the veins in your face lift to the surface of your skin. You can’t bring yourself to fight against him, hands doing little more than holding his wrist as he keeps you aloft with one hand. Another comes to stroke against the wound in your side, claws raking over the ragged flesh. It feels more like pressure than pain as the feeling fades from your body. Lord Sukuna says something but it’s only a dull rumble in your uncomprehending ears. All that’s left is a ringing, then a sound like a branch being torn from a tree. Then nothing. 

A lingering hollowness haunts the light floating before your eyes in clouds of flickering red. It burns through your eyelids as your lashes flutter, eyes disobeying your intentions to open them. It feels like pulling a string with no tension and expecting the puppet to move even still. No part of your body wishes to do more than twitch as you claw towards consciousness like climbing a mountain. First your toes begin to move as intended, then your fingers. It feels like filling an empty cup, bit by bit the water rises until it’s spilling over the brim and your eyes flutter open at last. 

The warmth of wakefulness is nearly overwhelming. Hot as the stifling heat at the height of summer as your eyes watch the glow of the braziers flickering across the walls. Sweat trickles over your skin beneath the layers of bedding pulled up to your chin, gathering between your breasts and at the nape of your neck. It’s made worse by the tackiness in your throat. It’s hard to swallow as you shift in your nest of blankets, moving with the grace of a newborn fawn. This isn’t the rising from a fitful sleep but the emergence of a newly formed butterfly escaping its cocoon. You move with a practiced delicacy, wings still soft against your back as you strip the layers away from your sweltering skin. How long have you been asleep? 

The light blooming outside the shoji gives nothing away. It could be early morning or midday and the faint glow of the winter sun remains the same. You turn away from the doors leading outside and regard the inner shoji with vague interest. There’s faint hints of knowledge in your mind. It drifts just beyond comprehension like fish dancing just below the surface of a pond, bright and fleeting as you try to grasp at the thought that won’t form. The walls around you are unfamiliar yet you can’t be certain of why. The scent in the air is foreign in a way you can’t place. Everything is wrong. A frightening sort of foreignness as you try to rattle any modicum of knowledge loose from the haze of unconsciousness. The tatami is cold underfoot, your bare toes pressing into the woven mats as you wobble towards the door on the tips of your toes. This much you know. 

There’s the broadest strokes of understanding. The door slides open when you pull, red light giving way to darkness as the halls stretch out in either direction almost endlessly. The embers burning in the braziers only reach so far into the yawning blackness so you set forward blindly. One hand trails along the left wall, fingertips grazing along the screens painted with falling leaves. The halls twist and turn, darkness fading to gray as your eyes adjust to the sinuous corridors. At each corner you turn left with the vague knowledge that it will eventually lead you somewhere. The last hallway doesn’t end so much as an obstacle appears in your path. A slim figure cuts across your vision, a burning stroke of white standing out in the dimness. Their face is familiar as is the word they whisper into the darkness. The dulcet sound knocks something loose in your head. Your name. As if you’d been underwater since your eyes opened, the broad strokes of knowledge rattling about in your head are slowly refined. Returning to life is always jarring. Without guidance it takes some time for you to realize yourself, to reclaim your memories and mannerisms. Your mother had said you were like a puppet brought to life before your mind returned, always the last thing to heal from the ordeal of death. 

“Lord Sukuna will be glad to hear you’ve awakened.”

“How long was I asleep?” A gentle way to ask for how long your body had been dead. Faintly, you remember the wound in your side, Lord Sukuna’s hand about your delicate throat. From the inside of your body, breaking your neck always sounds like a tree being cleaved in two. A thick tearing noise that echoes dully in your ears before the unknown sound of death swallows you. That you never remember. A small miracle considering how often you’ve found yourself being relieved of your life. Drowning, choking, burning. And yet your body mends itself without fail, becoming stronger for the pain you endured. You touch your side and wonder what it will take to pierce the skin there in this lifetime; because there have already been so many. 

“A fortnight.” Uraume tells you. Usually a broken neck would not take so long to heal. But the damage is rarely paired with the viscera of a curse attack. It had been a lucky thing that Lord Sukuna had honored you with death at his hands. The first since you’ve entered his household as his third wife. If the curse had taken your life, you imagine there might not have been another life to live. No death had ever come at the hands of a curse or anything imbued with cursed energy. If it can keep a sorcerer from becoming a curse, it can likely keep you from reviving with more strength than before. It would’ve been a great shame to have been killed by a curse when your lord husband was so near. An insult to allow anyone other than him to determine what happens to his wife. His third wife. His favorite wife. 

Uraume leads without much grandeur, simply walking a few steps ahead of you. The path becomes clearer now. Still dark and unlit but there’s a familiarity to it that hadn’t been there only moments ago. The air is chilling as Uraume leads the way outside, meandering along the engawa until they jump from the edge, their landing softened by the clouds of snow still blanketing the ground. It seems less than it had been when your eyes had last opened, as if it hadn’t snowed heavily since the night of Jurina’s death. Yet it was still winter and you clutch the folds of your hakama closer around your shoulders as Uraume trails ahead. Clouds like wisps of smoke puff from between your lips as shivers tremble through your renewed body. If they feel the cold, Uraume doesn’t acknowledge it. The cold is something intrinsic to your lord husband’s most favored servant. Even in the height of summer there’s a slight chill to their presence. Likely a consequence of their cursed technique. 

Uraume leads the way past the unattached buildings that are only frequented by servants, towards the far bounds of the estate. There’s never been any reason for you to be this far from the main house. You imagine these are places where things you never think of are stored, preserved foods and wagons for trips into town. The armory is the only building you recognize. A haze of cursed energy looms over the building like a shroud. It’s the same for the building that Uraume seems to be leading you towards. The air around it is thick with the presence of great power. Both auras are familiar in different ways. Just as each person seems to carry their own distinct scent, cursed energy has an element of individuality. Even with your eyes closed and ears plugged, you’d know the approach of your lord husband by his cursed energy alone. He is inside. As is another being that you imagine must be the curse that had attacked you. Their energy is recognizable in a fractured way. Like a dream slipping away as soon as you wake. 

Uraume announces your arrival as they open the door. The room is bathed in gold, lit by dozens of lanterns all flickering in tandem. The room is modest in size and made smaller by what must be hundreds–if not thousands–of talismans hanging from the walls and ceiling. All in various sizes and written in different hands. Some of the ink has the neatness of a learned scholar while others have the shakiness of illiteracy, though the quality of the script hardly matters to what is written. Each tag holds the power to bind. As do the thickly woven ropes wrapped right around the pale curse that attacked you all those days ago. It gurgles and strains within the ropes hung with more binding talismans, bulging eyes bobbing in its head as it tries to fix its gaze towards the sound of your approach. You hardly notice, eyes fixed on the vision of your lord husband standing over the creature with his spear in hand. 

Lord Sukuna takes over your vision, eclipsing everything with his daunting figure. He takes his eyes away from the curse bound at his feet with an unhurried sort of interest, and the weight of his gaze makes you bloom like a flower beneath the kiss of the sun. Red eyes piercing as burning iron stab through you, pinning you in place so absolutely that your knees buckle. He sees the weakness before you can fall and catches you by the waist, pulling you against him. Your eyes fall away from his face, head bowing as you try to find the words to apologize for your mistake; your death. He silences you before you can find enough words to express the deep rooted feeling of inadequacy. 

“The misstep has already been punished.” When you dare to look up, Lord Sukuna is looking towards Uraume. With a sharp nod of his head he dismisses his right hand attendant to leave the two of you alone with the curse that tried to take your life, tried to claim something that belongs to your lord husband alone. Not even you have such control of your life. You’ve heard tales of unhappy concubines seeking death in the face of neglect and mistreatment. Though you’ve always found yourself spoiled in your marriage, you can’t imagine that you could ever take your own life even if you were set aside and forgotten. Lord Sukuna will always be your world. The sun doesn’t cease to exist simply because it has set. The darkness of night must be endured to enjoy the light of day. You’ll suffer anything at the hands of your lord husband if it pleases him. Your life is his to manage as he sees fit. 

“My Lord,” you try to speak, but you’re silenced once more. 

“Don’t start. I’ve already told you you’re forgiven. Besides, words are useless without action. If you truly seek forgiveness then prove it.” He takes his hand away from you and nods towards the curse still squirming in its bonds. Its eyes wheel this way and that until one finally finds its way into a position to see you. The aborted struggles seem to renew with the vigor you’d seen upon its arrival into your chamber. The ropes burn red welts into its pale skin where it writhes and strains, spittle dribbling from its mouth as its empty whining turns to hissing yowls. 

“Three, three, three.” The creature spits, straining towards you with the singularity of an arrow launched from a bow. Lord Sukuna stands behind you, a pillar of strength and a post keeping you from turning away. One of his hands finds yours, pressing his spear against your palm. It’s heavy and your arm trembles with the strength it takes to hold it. His intentions are clear. Kill the curse. It takes great strength and both arms to lift Lord Sukuna’s spear. All of your weight pitches forward as you drive the three-pronged blade through the curse’s head. Blood sprouts like a fountain as the creature screams. The sound pierces through your ears, ringing in your head as you drive the weapon further through its head in a rush to silence the noise. It chuffs and squeals, thrashing against the ropes with slowly waning strength until, at last, it goes still and silent. 

For a moment the pale lump of bleeding, bulging flesh takes on a shimmery red glow like flames burning within ash and ember. It grows then fades as the creature sags in a haze of dissipating cursed energy. The only movement left is the blood dripping from the spear still lodged in its head, forming a puddle on the dirt floor. Perhaps a flower will sprout from the soil wetted with purple blood though you doubt something so delicate could spring from the death of such a violent creature. Kneeling next to the puddle you touch the spot of dampness and ask the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue since the curse first spoke. 

“Was this First Mistress Jurina?” It had to be. It would explain the vague familiarity about the curse’s energy. Like the scent of someone lingering in their clothes after they’ve worn them, Jurina’s cursed energy tainted the new signature of the cursed spirit. Lord Sukuna barks out a laugh. 

“There’s no need to be so respectful of the dead. Jurina is no longer my wife, nor was she ever worth your deference.”

“She was your first wife,” you mumble, lowering your head against the admonishment you expect to meet your stubbornness. It doesn’t come. 

“They are wives in name only. Perhaps I laid with them, but there has been no woman above you since we wed.” 

The wedding had been something of a formality performed in the absence of your lord husband. The vows had been spoken before your family and the deed was done long before you completed the arduous journey from your home to Lord Sukuna’s estate. You were his wife for some time before you met and, truly, you will be his wife forever. Not even death could sever your allegiance. It makes you wonder if one day you’ll become a curse too. Some amalgamation of your grief and anguish. The dark, rotted feeling of failure as you abandon your lord husband in death. It’s unthinkable when your body has been blessed with such resilience and yet you know that there may come a day when death is no longer like sleep, your eyes will close forever, the butterfly dead at last. It brings a mournful feeling to your heart. 

“Would you let me curse you, my lord?” Jurina had become a vengeful spirit fueled by her hatred of you. She’d cursed you in her death and you can only hope to be so attached to your lord husband, even in death. It’s the dividing line between you, the gate guarding you from the rest. In her last moments, Jurina hadn’t been thinking of Lord Sukuna. Her husband, her murderer. Instead he eyes had looked to you and her soul had screamed to tear at you the way Lord Sukuna had shredded through her body. It was with no small amount of pain that Jurina had lost her life and even in the midst of death she had found it in herself to hate you with such passion that it burned even after she died. If she had hatred you wished to burn with love in your afterlife, to be so consumed by the flames of your desire that your essence will cling to Lord Sukuna even in death. 

“Would you curse me?” He asks sardonically. 

“I think I would.” There’s a bashfulness to your voice as your eyes stay towards the ground, watching Jurina’s purple blood seep into the soil. Lord Sukuna places a finger under your chin, sharpened nail digging into the soft skin beneath your jaw. When your eyes lift towards his face he’s smiling, a stark baring of fanged teeth. He smiles like a wolf and you’re the rabbit a hair’s breadth away from being bitten. 

“You’ll have to die first.” His tone is peculiar. There’s a hint of humor though it’s colored with something darker, as if Lord Sukuna is angered by the prospect of you abandoning him in such a way. 

“I will someday.” You remind him. Your Chrysalis technique may revive you from traumatic deaths, but a gentle departure, a final breath gasped in the night, is likely to go unrenewed. A winter frost through which no spring flowers will bloom. Nature cannot be denied and to live is to die. 

Lord Sukuna cups your face in his hand, clawed fingers digging into your cheeks. “How little you know, woman.” 

He says no more and you decide that he must know something that you don’t. He is leagues more worldly and likely does know things beyond your understanding. It isn’t your place to pry if he won’t tell you freely. He must see a thousand questions behind your eyes but he neglects to answer any of them. Instead he pulls his hand away from your face and the warmth of his skin against yours is replaced by the winter cold. There are no burning coals in this room. A shiver snakes through your body, and that Lord Sukuna acknowledges. He removes his outer robe and drapes it around your shoulder. Immediately you’re drowning in the warmth of his body still lingering in the silk. It’s far too long for you and you gather the massive swathe of fabric into your arms to keep it from dirtying on the ground. Lord Sukuna tuts and picks you up, easily keeping his clothes from dragging along the dirt. Cradling you in one arm he pulls his spear from Jurina’s second corpse with another. It comes loose with a sound that reminds you of chopping vegetables. 

Lord Sukuna calls for Uraume and they appear in an instant as if they had been by his side all along. There’s an unspoken order that passes between them and your lord husband’s servant accepts it with a resolute nod. Then he says, “come, woman,” as though you could go anywhere else while still held aloft in his arms. It’s so different from the last time he held you, his fist locked around your delicate throat. Now his arms cradle beneath your knees and across your back as you lean against the warmth of his chest. The light of the sun is a bright wash of hazy white after spending some time in the dimness of the talisman room. You expect that Lord Sukuna will take you back to the main house, but he continues off in the direction nearing the furthermost bounds of the estate. 

“What will happen to Jurina now?” You dare to ask. Her human form had already been burned, but you weren’t sure what would become of her cursed form. It would be cruel to send it back to her family and burning wasn’t meant for curses. A human body could be purified in flames in preparation for the next life, but a curse could not shed the truth of its nature even in death. 

“I’ll show you,” Lord Sukuna said cryptically, still walking towards the building that stood alone on the outer reaches of the estate. Like the talisman room and the armory, there was a heady cloud of cursed energy blanketing the structure, though it was far more potent than anything you’d ever encountered aside from Lord Sukuna. His cursed energy seemed as deep and unending as the ocean and this strange building was just as unfathomably thick with traces of cursed energy. It was nearly overwhelming despite your constant exposure to your lord husband. It was ominous. Terrifying in its foreignness. Were you not held by Lord Sukuna, you might’ve run from this place. But there is an inherent safety in his arm. Your lord husband wouldn’t take you to a place that he could not protect you. 

“What is this place?” You ask quietly, as if speaking too loudly would rouse something from the aura of darkness. 

“An onsen of sorts.” It had the warmth of a bathhouse though the sound of babbling water was traded for that of rain, like a rushing waterfall as Lord Sukuna opened the door. It seemed just like the onsen of the main house. Stone floors around a deep pool, yet there was no water here. Instead the pit where a hot spring might’ve been was filled with something black and vicious. The dripping sound came from the strange hammock hung far above the pool. That same dark liquid seeping through the large patchwork of fabric. And when you look closer, there are those same talisman symbols painted on the bulging material. 

“This is where Jurina will be taken,” Lord Sukuna told you, “so that she might finally be of use.” Just as Uraume said, none of his wives have served their purpose. It makes you wonder what purpose Lord Sukuna would have you serve. You dare to ask. 

“That’s why I’ve brought you here,” he says vaguely. “You’re my wife, and I expect that you’ll serve me as a wife should.” 

His words send a shock down your spine. What task have you been neglecting? You were raised in an affluent household as the daughter of a large and prosperous clan. The ways of womanhood have been stitched into your brain from the moment you were born. The proper way to act and speak, the things a wife must pay heed to if she wishes to keep a well run household. Though you’re only the third in line of authority–second, now–you’ve taken up most tasks to do with the household. Jurina hadn’t the patience and Second Mistress was always sequestered in her room. Such a sad girl like a flower wilting at the height of spring. She cried at Jurina’s funeral where few others could find the fondness for it. It was you that the head household maid reported to and the cooks asked about which meals should be prepared on which days. At first, you simply thought it was the convenience of receiving prompt answers, but now you know that it was simply expected. You were the favorite, the de facto lady of the house. So what could there be that you weren’t doing to your lord husband’s standards?

“My apologies, my lord. Whatever I’ve been lacking I will–” His hand covers your mouth, ear to ear. 

“Enough,” he groans. Then he says, “Children. A wife should give her husband children. You’ll serve this purpose for me.” There’s a fleeting hint of fondness in his voice that sends a twinge through your heart. Lord Sukuna is asking you to bear his children. You weren’t married into the household as his main wife and yet he’s given you the highest honor of being the mother of his heirs. A warmth blooms across your cheeks and down your neck, a flush of excitement igniting through your body. 

“As many as you’d like, my lord.” It’s what’s expected of you though you; an expectation rather than a choice, but you’re excited to fulfill the role even still. Though, part of you had considered it an impossibility. Lord Sukuna had been human once but something in him had changed, gone beyond that of an ordinary man. But he is a man even still. Desiring progeny, a legacy beyond his own being. To know that he wants to use your body for such an honorable purpose washes you in a great sense of pride. It will be your womb that births the King of Curses his heirs. Little pink haired babies with your nose and their father’s four eyes. But pride slowly turns to contemplative anguish. 

If you were meant to give Lord Sukuna his children, it is nothing short of a miracle that you haven’t conceived in the year that you’ve been married. Lord Sukuna did nothing sparingly. He indulged to his heart’s content. In blood and carnage, in food, and in bed. He laid with you often enough that a child should’ve come long ago and yet you’ve yet to feel the stirring of a baby quickening within you. 

The room dips and swoops around you as your eyes lose focus, lost in thought. What was wrong with you that you hadn’t yet fallen pregnant? Your hands clutch at your stomach, empty beneath the layers of your clothes. A hidden fragment of your heart wonders if it’s truly your fault at all. Lord Sukuna had three wives, and while you were most favored there were times when he took the others to bed, a time before you entered his household. And yet the estate remains empty of heirs. Though you don’t dare to entertain the thought longer than a moment, it flashes through your mind as quick as an arrow. Perhaps it was Lord Sukuna that was obstructing the blessing of a child. Still, your hands remain on your stomach, caressing the place meant to bear the fruits of life. Since birth you were told it would be your only honor in this life. To give a man a son to further his glory and continue his legacy. Lord Sukuna isn’t in need of such a successor, yet he’s asked for them even still.  

“You are truly too valuable to die,” Lord Sukuna says, lifting your eyes towards his. They’re piercing as red flames, burning into your face with such intensity that it makes you want to wither in his arms, like a flower left with no water. “Jurina was poisoning you. Every night. And yet your body was kind enough to preserve itself for me.” Because what other reason would you have to defy death so vehemently? If Lord Sukuna says the purpose of your cursed technique is to keep you by his side, then who are you to deny it?

“You like tea.” Lord Sukuna says, passing the pad of his thumb over your lips. “Dark tea. Dark enough to mask the color of anything added to it. Jurina was bribing your little maid to slip poison into your tea every night before bed. Nothing lethal. She meant to poison your womb and purge any seed I might’ve planted inside you.” He laughs scornfully, “I thought it was jealousy, at first, but she was drinking it, too, and feeding it to the second one. Likely the work of her family urging her to cripple my reign by blocking the chances of an heir.” 

Another hand brushes against your stomach, sweeping away your desperate grasping. 

“I chose you well, woman. Though the poison did as it was made to and purged your body of any child that might’ve grown, you healed. What made Jurina and the other barren hardly touched you. As soon as you closed your eyes your body repaired itself. Uraume thinks you might be close to building a tolerance for it since your technique heals as well as strengthens. I might start feeding you poisons to fortify you against future attacks.” It was so terribly wonderful that you knew as soon as he said it that you’d gladly eat anything your lord husband asked without question. The poison might even taste sweet on your tongue if it was prepared by him. 

“Things will be different now. You will give me children. Strong children.” He says it with an air of finality, as if you’d ever deny him anything, though you’re uncertain of how strong any child of yours will be. Of course, your maiden clan is a powerful one, but you’re hardly a descendant of the three elite sorcerer clans. Jurina had been a Zenin. Her blood would’ve given him strong children. Second Mistress is a Kamo and her children would carry that superiority in their blood. As a humble Hoga, you were the least desirable of his brides to have his children with. Unless Fourth Mistress was of a lower clan than even you. 

“If I may, my lord,” he grunts his annoyance but allows you to continue. “If you want children, why did you not have them with Jurina? Certainly a Zenin would be better suited to creating a powerful heir. My cursed technique is unheard of even within my own clan.” You remind him. It would break your heart to disappoint him with a child that couldn’t even do you the service of inheriting your technique. And there likely would be no second chance to amend the error. 

“I don’t want your technique, woman, though it would surely be of great use. That’s what this place is for.” He sweeps his arm towards the pool of darkness gathered in the center of the room. The longer you look the more it begins to turn from black to deep purple. Slowly, the immense level of cursed energy sufficing the air begins to make sense. The staccato waves that don’t seem to match any singular signature aside from Lord Sukuna’s. It is blood. The blood of curses. And Lord Sukuna had called it an onsen of sorts. Did he mean to bathe you in the blood of those he’d slain? To give your child over to these tainted waters to imbue them with its power? 

It made you fear for the child that had yet to be made. Of course, their purpose in life would be an extension of your own. To serve their lord father in any way that he asked, yet they’d still be a piece of you. A terrible selfish piece of your heart began to crack and splinter, breaking away in revolt of turning your baby into a monster. But what was Lord Sukuna if not a monster? Adoration did little to cleanse the crimes of the King of Curses. Any child you gave him would be heir to that title. With a few measured breaths, you resigned yourself to it. Your child would know no other way of life and you would love them as proudly as a mother could. They would always be a manifestation of the love you bear for your lord husband. His flesh and blood joined with yours to create a life. It felt like a privilege to even consider the thought.