#He looks like a heavenly maiden

[maomaojinshi]

Maomao inspecting Jinshi's abs very closely

"He looks like a heavenly maiden, but he has well-proportioned muscles."

[onlyseokmins]

mischief maker • y.j.h.

Pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, priestess!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting 💃🏻 jeonghan is an absolute FILTHY menace, light slapping, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? WC: 4.2k A/N: also another thing rotting in my drafts </3 anyways kinda proud of this one but it's also obscene and hard to follow so sorry </3 let me know if you have any theories hahah!!! this goes hand-in-hand with Ashes and Cinders, so definitely recommend to read that one if you haven't already

"Look at how heavenly you are. The lengths you'd go, so dedicated to prove your servitude."

Droplets of perspiration turn into diamonds, littering the bare skin of your back that's exposed more than usual due to the disheveled state of your robes. Neither the dewy sheen coating your skin nor the cold stone you're pressed against causes the chill that sets off tiny bumps decorating your sweat-soaked figure. It is from the sensation of a plethora of tiny gems crystalizing against your heated body before they slide to the floor. 

Each precious jewel that falls creates a tinkling melody. Echoing the sound of the ones wrapped around your neck and sewn into the fabrics that were once draped elegantly over your curves as you moved through the temple.

It's difficult to focus when your eyes are nearly crossed. Your elegant, upright visage is beyond recognition. Instead, a depraved image is reflected in the pristine water of the blessed fountain that flows out into a shimmering pool encased by polished marble. You were always quite meticulous about upholding the beauty of the temple you oversee.

Yet, who's the one sullying all the hard labor the maidens endure under your watchful guidance?

Drool dribbles past your lips, sore and swollen from how many times teeth have bitten into and at them. Now, they have no choice but to stay open and release a series of successive, sultry moans being drawn out of you and resonating throughout the chamber. Head lolling and vision starting to swim, losing count of how many times you've been brought to and over the overwhelming peak of pleasure.

"How does it feel?" Sweeping back long, flaxen bangs out of his glowing gaze with the finesse a mortal man could only dream to possess after hours upon hours of fucking, Jeonghan smirks. Miniscule encrusted diamonds grow, glisten, and gleam, bestowing a dazzling glitter on his forehead before they drop. "How does it feel for your god to bury his cock inside this tiny blessed cunt, my precious priestess?" 

If a verbal answer was needed, the both of you would be shit out of luck. Fortunately, as a sentient being, he can hear the innermost thoughts of many. Usually a low murmur in the back of his mind unless he focuses on them or they are an extremely devout believer in prayer. 

And you just happen to be the high priestess of Yoon. The model of devotion. Possibly the only mortal capable of handling the god of the temple in his true, divine form. 

By now, he has to chuckle at how your little head is only full of nonsensical thoughts. More, more, more, and Jeonghan, god, Jeonghan are the only comprehensive things that cry out to him. Even within the physical tremor of your body beneath him and the fluttering squeezes of your pussy. So much pleasure writhes throughout your very being that it races like electricity in a wire and surges inside his own, erupting into unadulterated waves of even more bliss for the both of you.

He leers in victory. Bringing you to your knees was a lot harder than expected, especially for someone who was supposed to serve the people in his name. To be completely honest, he was the one who ended up on his knees first — cleaning up the tantalizing slick gathered between your legs with his tongue. It was after you had spread them teasingly upon his arrival, accidentally summoned to your bedchambers at the seductive cry of his name. Cock-throbbing whimpers that had fallen from your lips while pleasurably climaxing from your fingers dipping in and out of the wet warmth between your legs. Eager to let go after playing for quite some time with such sweet, pooling arousal.

That was the day he found out just how much more delicious you were than the frothy nectar of the gods overflowing from their goblets during festivities. 

And he had become addicted. 

But now, look at you.

Your saintly garments are an unholy mess. Saturated by a mixture of both of your releases, the pure white colors practically become transparent. Especially following an… unfortunate tumble into the holy spring.

Normally, it would be a punishable offense to defile the holy waters. But when it's a priestess capable of the most powerful purification skills being encouraged to ride the cock of the temple's worshiped being who very much doesn't give a damn — well…

It's why you're splayed across the pool's ledge, lower body on full display for the god to use. Not entirely the most comfortable of positions. But it's somewhat of a respite for your tender breasts that are littered with sore bites and nips from Jeonghan while he muttered praises bards might be inspired to repeat as songs if they weren't so filthy.

You're unable to think a single thought in that pretty head of yours. His hips snap rapidly at such a pace to bully his dick deep within your cunt and with the force that would've broken a human of the same stature's bones otherwise. Lanky, sinewy muscles buzz with a faint glow to match the radiance of his irises.

"What would the maidens that look up to you in awe think if they saw you like this? Your loyal priestesses that respect you? The followers that worship the ground you tread on almost more than how strongly they pray to me?"

You were an influential figurehead of society. Ever since you walked in the steps fate laid out for you by a grand oracle's prophecy, you became the pinnacle of holiness in the surrounding lands. Virginity as a requirement was only practiced in the days of the old texts, and though your romps with the handsome and beautiful people of the citadel were not fully behind you, Jeonghan would make sure no one else could ever satisfy you like he can.

Besides, who could ever fuck a human as well as only a god can?

His stamina is on a whole other level. Unthinkable for a divine being well known for his laziness in the so-called dignified parables spun by the mortal tongue for generations. Maybe it's fueled by the intricate bond formed between the two of you, but it would be a lie to say it wasn't by far the best dicking down you have ever received. Jeonghan's not the thickest cock you've taken, but he sure is the longest and knows exactly how to use it.

"Dirty little priestess, the way this sopping pussy clings around me like a vice." He scoffs at the realization. "No wonder even the mightiest of gods bows down and lays with his mortal queen every chance he gets."

The distraught huff torn from your lungs paired with filthy wet noises when he pulls out of your sloppy hole is music to his ears. Akin to the harps and flutes the muses and their delicate fingers pluck and play to grace the court of deities present among the clouds.

His palm splays out, flying across your ass cheeks with a resounding crack visually reflected by the responsive jiggle and wiggle of your hips following the cruel motion. Scratch that. He bites his bottom lip with glee, the same hand fingering your cunt to scoop up the mixtures of his multiple releases and yours from earlier. The delightful squelching is much better than the heavenly harps of the gods.

Jeonghan figures that's where you'll end up one day, sitting all pretty. Whether or not you'll be a divine being — he refuses to use his wily brain to think harder about that. Though with the way the two of you continue to defile one another, a trip to the underworld may be in your future cards instead.

He reckons you'd love the delightful heat of the lava baths and the cute little boiling bubbles that pop at the surface. Especially if you decided to sink down on his cock… the god shivers delightfully at the thought.

"Vices. How fitting for you mortals."

Tugging the back of your ear with his unsoiled hand so you can turn your head, squishing a cheek against the marble and blearily struggle to look at him through unfocused pupils. Still, you're able to make out the v-shape of his pointer and middle finger — and even the clear strands of arousal stretched between them — before he sticks his tongue out to lick up. All while maintaining eye contact with a smirk, continuing his venomous words.

"Silly brother of mine, wasting time to concoct a drink for the gods who have no need for refreshments. Stupid humans who attempt to brew it with their measly tools as an homage." His thumb returns to circle your sore clit, drawing out more garbled moans. "All those efforts when this," another swipe and he's slurping it up again and tossing his head back with a throaty groan of pleasure, "this is the real ambrosia."

Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan, cries your body, your mind, and your soul.

So much that your very being resonates and calls out his true name, causing the god's aura to glow brighter. Dozens of rubies, crystals, jades, and emeralds spill out from his pores at the effort and exertion of his dick slamming back inside of you. It's more thrilling and stimulating than participating in the senseless wars his brothers like to lure him into.

Strength fills him like never before. No one would think the god of mischief would have many believers but humans were petty. They may pretend to walk the righteous path yet they thrive on the downfall of even those close to them. You delivered messages from the god with little thought, for greater forces spiraled his playfulness into much more ominous threats if they chose to — swallowing up his domain for their own brutal goals.

"Why do you not wish for more power?" you'd dared to ask him on the rare days he appeared at the temple. Lounging about on the architecture's high peaks without a care in the world. "Surely you could have greater control."

"My dear high priestess," Jeonghan chides. He's not completely unaware of the effect his acknowledgment of your existence and title has. "The strenuous move of my pinky finger is enough effort asked of me for the next millennium. That alone could cause a child's village to go up in flames just because of a little prank gone wrong."

Your posture remains as refined and poised as always, yet your eyes wistfully trace his features — wishing it could be your hands instead. "I see."

"I imagine the creator molded me the way I am for the benefit of the world. Think of the havoc I could wreak if I was motivated to do so?"

Unbeknownst, the creator did take it into account. Though they made no concerted effort to intervene in the consensual exploitation the mischievous god took of the beautiful priestess. Or maybe it was the other way around? Fully aware of the unspoken thread weaving through the temple of Yoon, content to watch the god become more interested in life as he whispered in your ear. This time, bold words that were definitely not meant to be relayed to his followers. 

The creator let fate be, for the current gods can only fall for a new world to rise.

"Ambrosia that would bring a transgressor due enlightenment and a savior," Jeonghan continues with a dark chuckle, "or a god to their knees. All for this sinful, perfect little cunt."

Moan after moan leaves your mouth, shamefulness long gone the minute the god saw your spread legs, and his azure eyes were immediately drawn to what was in between them. His cock continued its brutal assault, pistoning in and out of what he deemed the world's finest treasure.

"But no one will ever get a taste of this one. It's mine. Mine!"

His slender fingers wrap around the back of your neck. Surprisingly, he lifts your head up gently — just enough for you to nod your head at his growl of "Isn't that right?", though when only more drool drips out of your mouth, Jeonghan shakes your head roughly in a "yes" motion.

"I could break you," he hisses as if he hasn't already nearly done so. "You are as fragile as a blade of grass in my hands." Another harsh slap lands on your backside. "Yet so resilient to my wrath, this hole of yours is always so welcoming. Why?"

Yours, yours, yours.

Jeonghan agrees with a feral growl, one not of this realm. Like a sounding bell and beckoning call from the vast unknown, it sends a vision flashing across your eyes. The sun freezes in the sky with its brilliant, harsh glow yet the world turns eerily cold and not into dust and ashes as expected. Then the sky turns black, a terrifying darkness, and a howling moan of despair. 

The moon joins its counterpart like two eyes glaring at the universe. They shudder in tandem, vibrating at a shaking frequency until you realize. They are staring right at you, unwavering. Like a face. Like a reflection.

A crash and a boom and a roar — then you're coming undone on Jeonghan's cock for an unbelievable amount and length of time. Shuddering as the world falls apart inside your brain, screaming and writhing though not quite in actual pain as the god kindly fucks you through your climax.

"Turn you into one of us, then you would no longer have such a weak mortal body. But even that's not possible… unless it's the creator. Perhaps even then…"

You don't register his words and maybe it's good you don't. He refuses to bare the heart he doesn't have. An ultimate weakness. Not like his foolish brothers. 

And yet…

While waiting for the shaking of your body to subside, his hands ghost over your form as if to ease the trembling. Listening to your heart rate until it no longer beats as crazily as you find rest in lean arms that cradle your body without sexual intention for the first time since the god's descent. After placing your weary body in the fountain, you're soon lulled into a dreamless doze by the soothing lap of the tiniest of waves against your skin and Jeonghan's gentle caresses.

You awaken much later. Feeling a lot more refreshed by some well-deserved rest and your innate healing powers aided by the holy spring's rejuvenation. Flowers in varying shades matching the luminescent color of Jeonghan's eyes litter the bed. Surrounding you with the same sweet scent when in his embrace. Picking one up, you thumb at glossy petals that remind you of the god's silken hair and smooth skin. 

Truly a symbol of his likeness.

"Priestess."

Your head jerks up when the subject of your thoughts silently materializes. A scratchy throat turns even drier and makes it hard to swallow upon spying a glint of silver pinning up Jeonghan's long locks. Another symbol — this one of the god's chilling wrath — is a spear disguised as a fragile hairpin. 

Carved from the bones of an ancient beast slayed by a hero of legends, the shining spear was crafted and embellished by the hands of a talented blacksmith gifted it in the name of his fellow brother and deity. The one that stands before you now, Jeonghan, the god of mischief. 

Tales of the legendary weapon thrown from his slender fingers and whistling through the battlefields to mercilessly strike down foes and enemies alike are documented on ancient scrolls in the oracle's grand library. As the only other one with access to such rare treasures, you'd poured over the delicate artifacts for days to learn more about the god you serve, eyeing the tiny circlet that hangs around his neck, certain it's the powerful aegis that supposedly wields the ability to turn those into stone.

"Drink." A chalice disrupts your view of the god and you take it, grateful at least for something to soothe how parched you feel. If he even notices your anxiety, he stays quiet and sits on the edge of the bed. Playing with a flower stem until you finish, the representative plant somehow looks both foreign yet perfect in his hands. "You saw something, didn't you?"

"Some sort of vision. One that was quite… frightening." 

"Describe it to me."

"Th-the gods. I think, my goodness, I am certain that they were at war."

As you explain in greater detail, weaving your tale of the bleak sun into it, Jeonghan's sapphire irises grow darker. Colder. By the time you've finished, the stem he'd been twirling in his hands has snapped in half and you no longer dare to look him in the eye even when he hums.

"The sun… hm? How interesting."

"Yes." 

You nod knowingly, and he lets out a dramatic sigh. There's a shing! noise and the god stands, a visible aura radiating around his form as the fearful spear elongates, revealing itself. It looks less deadly than described in stories, though you suppose no one who has been pierced by its shaft has lived to tell the story of its killing nature. Delicate and thin with a beautiful glow around it in this peaceful moment. But you know better than to trust what the eye — even one as perceptive as yours — can see and shudder.

"Is it the holy war you fear? Doubt that you'll receive a divine blessing of protection?"

A wry smile graces your lips. "I don't need to worry about being protected. It is my duty to defend the temple no matter what."

Jeonghan snickers, remembering the sharpened tip that almost grazed him. Caught off guard on his first visit when a priestess greeted him with a nocked arrow rather than a subservient bow of respect. And who knew he'd end up bedding that very same priestess, addicted to your body and all that it offered him. 

"Nothing will strip away the divine barrier encasing us so easily," you also point out and he nods, eyes lifting to the sky displayed through the high, open arches of your sleeping quarters. 

"I suppose you're correct. Though I do not know if you'd be able to fend off all my brothers…" The god lets out an undignified snort. "I do not believe they are planning an uprising so I must see what this vision of yours could be about." Jeonghan stretches, sending a lazy grin your way. "Do you trust me?"

You think back to gentle touches after a rough session. Whispers of sweet nothings and meaningless pledges when he thought you had drifted asleep. Waking up clothed in gossamer silk — a gift each time — and various reminders of his touch in the aches of your body that had yet to recover, visual ones scattered about the bed you rested upon each time. 

You recall what your purpose is. The oath you must uphold is proven by your namesake. Your destiny. And more. It is something you cannot forget. Ever.

"Of course," you assure him and Jeonghan laughs carefreely. Like he can't believe your faith in him himself. Neither can you.

He shakes his head, strands of hair shining like gold threads. Taking the chalice from you and lifting your freed hand to place a chaste yet flirty kiss to your knuckles. "Don't forget about me, my priestess. I'll return soon."

Another empty promise. Though you don't refute, playing along with his teasing remarks of you welcoming him back with open legs. Bidding the god a rather casual farewell before he disappears — but not with a wink followed by a bright flash and loud thunderclap.

Once you've sensed his presence is truly gone, you rise from the bed. A lyre sits in the corner and you run your fingers melodically across the taut strings while refining your appearance. You have a job to do after all.

The shrill cry of a raven draws your gaze to the open window where the black bird lands. It hops around, tilting its head curiously and rustling feathers expectantly. You smile, laying out a collection of gems on the ledge for it to inspect and play with. Summoning the maidens of Yoon, you speak to your confidante, stroking its midnight plumage while waiting for them to make the journey up to your chambers.

"Foolish gods, always underestimating. Jeonghan may have forgotten… everyone must have cast it from their minds." Your avian companion lets out a low croaking noise, nuzzling your palm with its beak as if to comfort. "But I… I will never forget." 

Do not. Forget.

Don't you. Dare. Forget

"I won't. I can't."

The voices in your head would never let you. And they will only get louder as time marches on, especially without Jeonghan by your side. But that is neither here nor there. You can't do anything about it except the one thing you — and only you — can do. 

By the time the eldest maiden has ascended the steps, you are alone again. Dressed in the purest of white robes and not a hair, jewel, or garment out of place. There are no black feathers, radiant jewels, or azure petals found in the humble and barren chambers of the high priestess. Just you, with your hands clasped together, and a fixed smile on your face.

"It is time." None of them notice the empty look in your eyes as they bow before you, heeding the declaration that comes from your lips. "It is time to spread the prophecy to the world. The real one."

"Yes, Mother," comes the obedient chorus.

The young women's eyes remain cast downward out of respect and the ambience of power emanating from you. For though they loyally represent the god of mischief, there could be no higher honor than serving a greater goddess such as yourself.

Jeonghan is clever. Wily. Smarter than he lets on which can be a true asset to those unsuspecting. But by no means is he ambitious. He is young too, and though the shell you reside in was destined to be his high priestess, the ancient bind to your soul has a stronger pull.

"He is coming," you murmur to yourself as the maidens set about the command you've ordered.

There's a warm glow bursting from the horizon, a fiery heat swathed in a tender caress making those erratic flames calmer. Softer. You're accustomed to what should be a sweltering wrath full of rage and the indicative hint to the tempered nature makes you smile. But the fuzzy feelings are tainted by a bitter tang of what is to come after the god of the sun's visit.

And so you prepare yourself for Seokmin to bring his eager request in your private chambers, stroking the head of your elusive feathered companion at your side while you wait. Watching as the sun rises higher and higher and an auburn-haired figure makes his way closer and closer.

Meanwhile, a flaxen-haired god's grip might nearly snap the spear he's holding in half. He stares at his eldest brother, aghast.

"You're lying."

"I am many things, Han, but I am not a liar."

"Brother —"

The king of the gods holds up a hand. "You don't have to believe me but it is the truth."

And though Jeonghan wants to fervently deny it, the dragged-down weight of his mortal shell's bones fight against what his godly head refuses to acknowledge.

He's brought back to what he was envisioning while bored out of his mind at his brother's lengthy counsel session. You — touching yourself, needy and forlorn without him there to fill you up — and him — returning to find such a scene and punishing you in the most salacious way possible.

But it's warped by his prophetic powers, proving his brother to be correct. Instead, you call him to bed and of course he follows, seduced by the way your body moves and everything else he wouldn't dare admit. And just as he finishes painting the inside of your cunt with all that he's worth and more, heavily spent from the throes of passion — you strike. Like a cobra lying in wait for its prey.

"Why?" is what he pathetically says as golden ichor drips from the corner of his mouth. The dagger you'd struck into his chest hurting a lot less than the actual damage truly dealt to what no human should ever be able to touch — his heart.

Blinking out of the painful vision, Jeonghan scowls at his brother. "You didn't know we've had an enraged primordial goddess on our hands?"

"Don't turn this on me when you've been fraternizing with said goddess."

Just as he's about to retort, the sudden darkness below the heaven's distracts both gods. The sun slips from the skies and a wail of grief so loud and chilling echoes, the harkening sign to the beginning of an apocalypse. The end. And for the first time ever, they feel a rush of emotion they've never felt in their whole immortal lifespan.

Fear.

As if that's not the worst of it all, he hears your voice. You're slyly drawing on that mental connection between the two of you, so that the phrase can be heard so crystal clear that his knees almost give out at the damnation you've orchestrated.

"And so… let the gods pay as they fall."

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

How about a Hualian x calamity!reader oneshot? Maybe HC and reader know each other already and pursue XL together? Idk, love your writing tho!

Gang up

Hua Cheng x calamity!reader x Xie Lian

So sorry it took a while, I had strep these past few days but I feel good now so ty for being patient with me 😙🖤🖤

I tried to make it vague enough to where you can input your guy's own character in there 🥰🙏

I hope it isn't too short, and if you can't tell I pulled some make believe facts out of my ass. Have to change the story up a little bit

Spoilers Below!!!

____________________________________

Everyone talks about the four calamities, but recently all three realms have been talking about a fifth one. Another terrifying, devastation level calamity. Because that's all the heavenly officials, someone else to worry about.

That's your bad, woops. It's not like it was on purpose. Maybe. It's not like it was your fault. Really! They should have known by now but your crimes and deeds have been hidden behind Crimson rain's for so long, everyone has thought there were only four calamities. Now, with so much activity from Hua Cheng it's impossible to hide behind him. Oh well.

Now you get your own title, lore, rumors and all that nice stuff since everyone knows you now. It's crazy how fast words spread.

You've always been here, in fact you and Hua Cheng appeared one right after the other. So of course with such a close timeline one of you was going to overshadow the other. Not that you have a problem with this.

Surprisingly you and Hua Cheng know each other well. You met a long, long time ago and have been friends ever since. Since you're such close friends. Why not live in paradise manor together, why not rule a ghost city together too? The two of you really are glued to each other's side.

The base of your friendship? Xie Lian. Now of course it's more than that. You're both dead, both calamities, both know Xie Lian, would do anything for Xie Lian, both knew Xie Lian. . .

You guys still hold affections for one another though so it's okay. And the best thing? I lied. You guys aren't friends at all. After hundreds of years of knowing each other you and Hua Cheng have seen the absolute worst in one another. You still stayed. He still stayed. Just because you guys are lovers doesn't mean that you're going to stop pursuing Xie Lian either. There's nothing wrong with three.

Now the second best thing is that none of you harbor jealousy against the other because usually you guys are side by side like Siamese cats causing trouble.

Very often the two of you gang up to pursue Xie Lian together. You guys even bully heavenly officials together. It's all a part of the fun.

So when Xie Lian initially hears about one ghost? He meets two. Like, okay so he has two calamity body guards. Neat. The same goes as follows. Just when he thought he only had to deal with one smart mouth, it's two. Feng Xin and Mu Qing are very annoyed by this but Xie Lian finds it endearing.

It's actually very nice. He used to have two people by his side, but then the trio was separated. Now he has two people by his side again and he doubts that you two will be leaving anytime soon.

Though, since you're actually a known calamity now the stories and details change up a little bit. Xie Lian can click a few more pieces of the puzzle together.

I mean how do you think Hua Cheng got so good in bed, he wasn't practicing on statues alone. How did Hua Cheng get his smooth, suave, attitude? That'd be you too. You had to encourage him to actually make a move on his precious dianxia instead of seeing him act like a blushing maiden anytime Xie Lian looks at him.

Not that you can speak differently on that one. You've always been there through Hua Cheng's worse and. . . worser. You're both awfully silly. Silly enough to give Xie Lian your ashes one random day.

When Xie Lian woke up with a ring of ashes around his neck? Pause. One ring? Isn't one missing? There's two of you. Hua Cheng and you so, where are your ashes.

He's absolutely delighted and curious when he finds out the two of your ashes are mixed. He finds it endearing the two of you trust each other that much and are so close. That's how he learned the two of you were lovers.

Because that's a big risk, a big promise. To mix your ashes and give it to one person. If Hua Cheng goes, you go too. If you go, Hua Cheng goes too. Which on a usual note would never happen.

Hua Cheng breaking Xie Lian's shackles is not a usual note though. He's devastated when not only one of his lovers fades away into a flock of butterflies but when his other lover does too.

The two of you would never leave him alone though, not with that ring around his neck. He knew you two would come back and you both did. Hand in hand, running to Xie Lian excitedly. The two of you would never have to disappear like that again.

Xie Lian doesn't mind that there's two of you. he has two hands, more the merrier. He's happy and loved. Isn't that all that matters?

____________________________________

I thought this new ashes idea of mine was cute so 🥰🙏 I hope you guys find it cute too

Sorry about grammar mistakes

[livelaughlovesubs]

hellooo, i love your writing but im not used to sending asks so forgive me if anything is said poorly or if i do it wrong somehow, but i was curious if your up for writing obey me characters still?

if you are, could i request just ravaging asmo, like to the point where hes crying and not forming coherent sentences, and then just completely switching up after and giving super sweet aftercare? this is sort of inspired by the dazai aftercare post except i want the smut lmao

feel free to refuse or completely ignore this request if you dont feel up to it!

also could i be 🫶 anon? i looked through your anon list and im pretty sure that ones not taken!

remember to take care of yourself and take your time! i hope you're doing well! :)

-🫶

Hello hello~ don’t worry, you are doing great :] Also this will be my first time writing for obey me, bear with me alright? (I only got to chapter/ lesson 22 when I used to play it)

Dom!reader x sub!Asmodeus - reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (I use dick), hair pulling, marks, mind break, overstimulation, multiple rounds, a little exhibition?

Creaking sounds lingered around your ears, alongside the breathy moans of the male underneath you. These heavenly noises bounced off the walls, loud enough to seep through the cracks of the door. You were almost worried that other people would hear him, it would be pretty embarrassing at breakfast tomorrow. Though, asmo certainly wouldn’t mind, he’d even brag and show off his hickeys to everyone. How did you know? Because if he had any ounce of shame, he wouldn’t be screaming his lungs out like this. No one can tell you this little slut here doesn’t want his brothers to know he was getting used like a fleshlight.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment and slowing down, gathering some energy. What time was it, how long have you two been going at it? The stamina of a demon really was scary, to think he was still able to stay awake after was felt like an eternity. He was exhausted too, but he still wanted to keep going. “Haha..” you chuckled as you gazed at his messy face, smiling in amusement at the lewd display in front of you. Asmo was such a charming man, his hair had an indescribable colour that was unique to none other than him. Truly a marvellous gift from god himself. And now, it was sticking to his forehead, all wet due to the layer of sweat covering his skin.

His angelic face was fated to be his weapon for temptation, such a beauty was truly irresistible, befitting of his title as the avatar of lust. Those gorgeous golden eyes were shining like stars, lightening up each time you trusted deep inside him. You almost felt guilty, for defiling that innocent appearance of his. The saying of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ was like tailored for him, for this devil with the most saint-like appearance you’ve ever came across. Everything he did was erotic and inviting, causing you to want to ruin him more. Until any traces of that natural pureness he had were wiped away by lust.

“AaahhGg~..! Oh, y/n, right thereeee mhHmm!!” Asmodeus moaned out your name, his voice sweet and coated with honey. His back was facing you, and he arched his body into a crescent shape. Hips and ass high in the air, while his face was being pushed into the very pillow he was hugging. One of your hands were tangled in his rose-tainted hair, switching up from stroking his locks to yanking on them whenever you saw fit. Each time you’d rough him up, he’d whimper shamelessly, grinning from ear to ear as he shakes his butt for you.

He was so beautiful right now. So very stunning. That once cheeky face now all decorated with tears and drool, all blushy like a maiden fresh in love. His eyes rolled back sometimes, as well as him sticking his tongue out and trembling in pleasure. Despite the impaling realisation that he would pass out if this continued any longer, he didn’t yield, only begging you to give him more. Who were you to deny your darlings wishes? You wanted to give him everything he wanted, even if it will cause him back pain for the days to come.

The other hand was on his hips, helping him holding his body up to meet your trusts. Your pace was a steady one, but pretty slow. That’s because your body was sore as well from pounding him for hours. Asmo didn’t mind it, because you were still so good at it, even if you were tired. Every time you drove your length inside him, it hit his abused and used prostate with such accuracy that he can’t help but cry out in bliss. “AhhNnGg! Harder~ ooOOhhH!!” His hole was all red and swollen, it was so puffy, yet he was still able to clench around you. You could feel his insides squeezing your dick, not letting you pull it out of him.

“Such a dirty boy, how did you survive so long without me?” You teased, pulling on his hair suddenly, ending with him throwing his head back with a yelp. “AhH! i- heh, I guess I wasn’t re-really living mHmm~ before meeting you then.” The demon answered, still capable of smiling at you, even if the said smile looked like the dumb grin of a cheap prostitute. “My my, your choice of words are still as romantic as ever. Can you handle another round, asmo?” His dick twitched at your words, leaking some more precum onto the puddle of semen beneath him. “HnGg, of co-course..! Ahh~ y/n, fuck me <3”

A smirk spread on your lips, and you let go of his light brown hair. Instead, you used both hands to hold his waist tightly, enough for it to bruise. “Then I won’t hold myself back.” You said, as a kind of warning. Asmo looked over his shoulder and your eyes met, the desire in his pupils were evident on his body as well as in your eyes. Another giggle slipped from your lips before you moved backwards, then snapping your hips against his in a fast pace. “AhGGhhH! Mo-moRRe!!” While the devil groaned out a series of encouragements for you to continue rutting into him like some beast, he could feel another orgasm approaching. His stomach curled so intensely, and electricity was coursing through his body.

The expression on his face was so dumb, so fucked out of it that he looked like he lost his mind. As if he succumbed to pleasure, him, the very fundament of lust. “Ah.. damn it, you are such a pretty boy asmo.. heh.” You complimented him among all these ruthless thrusts, it was a gentleness he didn’t know he needed to spill over the edge. “NgHHh! Uh-uhMm, I’m cu-cummINNgG <3!!” More tears rolled down his messy cheeks as his orgasm washed over him, this time he didn’t look as sane as before. No, he looked like he was drunk on the ecstasy and pleasure. It was so good, so so so good he couldn’t fathom it! It crashed down on him and his poor, slim body in waves, it was more than what he could handle!

Hearts were sparkling in his pupils, and his hands clutched the pillow so hard that it ripped. He even accidentally switched to his demon form, so his horns, wings and tail popped out. At this point he couldn’t think nor speak properly anymore, only repeating the same phrases like a broken radio. Whines and gasps of pleasure continued to fill the room of the boy, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth like some dog in heat. Ropes of cum spurt out of his dick, dirtying the sheets below him. His thighs quivered, some of his slick also ran down his inner thighs. After helping him ride out his high, you slowly and gently pulled the cock out of him. Then, you also released his hips.

Two imprints of your hands were left behind, and you couldn’t hide a sadistic smirk. To your surprise asmo whispered to you in a meek voice, “keep.. mhm, holding me..” He was just a twitchy something now, limping on his bed while his brain was still processing all the sensations. It was simply too much, he was going to take a while until he’ll be responsive again. Even so he still craved your touch, he did have an adorable side to him didn’t he?

“I’ll, if that’s what you want.” You replied and grabbed his tiny waist again, this time you leaned down and pressed your body against his. After waiting and taking a break for a new minutes, you kissed his neck softly, before mumbling quietly, “wanna go wash up now, love?” Not once have you left his side while waiting patiently, giving him some time to reorganise. “Hmmm… can’t we stay like t-this a tad longer?” Asmo pouted and sighed, already feeling sore and the aftermath of the long session. God, he was still stumbling over his words! Just how hard did you fuck him? He will definitely walk funnily tomorrow, if he can even stand on his own two legs. “We can still cuddle after taking a shower. Come on, you go first while I clean up.” You suggested, knowing that he was totally out of energy.

“Nuuu! I want to stay like this! Pleaseeee? Pretty please??” He blinked at you, looking at you with puppy eyes, knowing that this trick always works on you. “Ugh! Fine, fine, if that’s what my princess here wants.” You sighed, acting annoyed at him doing as he pleased. “Hehe~” the devil laughed satisfied, resting his chin on the pillow as he enjoyed your touch. Next thing he knew you kissed his cheeks, while tugging his still chaotic hair behind his ear. While you did those things, you said with a little smile, “You did well asmo, I’m so proud of you.”

Huh. Where did that come from? Out of nowhere his face heated up again, and that right after you thought he had calmed down. “Aww, you are so cute y/n!” He responded immediately, though a hint of nervousness was laced and hidden behind his voice. Was the avatar of lust perhaps flustered or embarrassed about your words? Pff. You laughed in his face, before giving his forehead a peck. “Ahh~ I love you, my prince.”

[writingsofwesteros]

Gwayne teaching his camp bride how to ride him…

She was a maiden before she was held hostage by the camp, and though Gwayne had thoroughly removed all traces of her maidenhead, he always fucked her in a position where he was on top. He decides it’s time for his princess to try something new. He can’t stop thinking about her being on top of him - though he won’t let any control over her disappear.

He instructs her to straddle him on night, having already eaten her cunt prior. First, he makes her slide her pussy along his length, up and down. Her cunt is wet and gushing all over his cock as she moves, her hips dragging over his lower stomach where his cock lays flat. She’s already whimpering each time the tip presses against her swollen clit, hips twitching. Then, he makes her lift her hips up and hover over him.

“Take it in your hands, yes, just like that.” She looks at him so hesitantly and he wants to drag her down on his cock immediately, though he resists. “Now, guide it in.”

He groans as she gently pushes the head of his throbbing cock inside her warm, wet walls. His grip on her hips is firm, not letting her move off his cock. “Lower yourself down, take it all in. Hmmm, that’s it. Just a bit more, there we go.”

His girl is whining at she begins to spear herself on him, his length filling her up completely. She’s only made it halfway down his cock when she begins to plead, “Gwa-Gwayne, please, it’s too much. I-I can’t take it!”

Gwayne knows he is being mean as he tightens his grip on her hips and drags her all the way down to meet his hips. The movement pushes his cock all the way inside of her and she cries out as his length prods against her cervix, garbled pleas leaving her lips. Gwayne exhales deeply at the heavenly feeling of her tight cunt clenching around him and can’t help but grin as his girl begins to slump against him, no longer able to hold her body up. She’s gasping at the fullness, her head resting on his shoulders as he sits up. The Princess thinks he has chosen to be merciful to her, only to whine loudly as the Hightower starts to drag her hips back and forth. “You will take it - for me,” he whispers into her ear.

Gwayne’s satisfaction with his precious spoil of war only grows as she soon starts to move her hips of her own volition, her fists clenching his hair as she begins to tense up. The Princess is soon gasping as her eyes roll back into her skull, her pussy spasming as her orgasm washes over her. Gwayne can’t help but cum as her walls grip him unbelievably tight, his head tossed back as he fills her. The sound of heavy breathing echoes around the tent before the man speaks,

“You did well my sweet girl. You were made for me, do you know that?”

All she can do is nod in her post-orgasmic haze, her hands subconsciously stroking at his red locks. He would never let her go, not until he’d ruined her completely.

!!!!!

Oh he stuffs her full; and now she feels so empty sometimes. Gwayne keeps his twitching cock inside her with her gummy walls clamping down throughout the night.

[ianime0]

Kusuriya no Hitorigoto | Ep17 | He looks like a heavenly maiden, but he has well proportioned muscles.

[candycandy00]

The Offering - A Sukuna x Reader Fic Part 1

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a human man, albeit a monstrously cruel and powerful one. Villages across the land worshipped him as a living deity. One such village holds a festival for seven nights in his honor every year, and on each night they make generous offerings to him, including women who are never seen again. On the fifth night, you are selected to be the offering.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Any feedback whatsoever is greatly loved! If you’d like to be tagged when I post another part, comment to let me know. You must have your age in your bio or pinned post and be 18+ to be tagged.

Smut. 18+. Sukuna is a human (my theory is that he got his four-armed body by modifying himself with jujutsu fuckery later in life). Dubcon. Mentions of rape that happened “off screen”. Very rough sex. Blood. Sukuna just generally being a sadistic monster. F!Reader.

Your forehead touched the ground, your entire body bent to bow as low as possible as the honored guest of the festival passed by. You didn’t dare look up at him. You’d heard stories of villagers being instantly beheaded by invisible blades for such an offense. 

Even when he was gone, climbing up the steps to the shrine your people had built for him several years ago, you kept your head pressed to the ground. There you and all the other villagers remained until someone announced that Lord Sukuna, your village’s living deity, had gone inside the shrine. 

Every year your village held a festival in Lord Sukuna’s honor. It was a week long affair, and each night generous offerings were left at the shrine’s doors for him to partake of. Sumptuous fruits, tender cooked meats, fragrant oils, delicate trinkets made of precious metals, sake of various types, and of course, beautiful women. 

Lord Sukuna remained inside the shrine for the entire seven days and nights, then left until the next year, when the process began again. The women offered to him were never seen again. 

On the fifth day, you were helping your mother prepare a basket of fruit for an offering. There were juicy pomegranates, glossy apples, and ripe peaches. They smelled heavenly, and you smiled as you arranged them to look as beautiful as possible. 

A sudden voice at the entrance to your home caught your attention, a man speaking to your father. “Please try to stay calm,” the man was saying, “but your daughter has been selected to be tonight’s offering.”

Your mother wailed beside you, clutching you in her arms as if she could keep you from being taken. Your father turned to look at you with an anguished expression. You yourself simply felt numb. A part of you knew this could happen. You were of age, unmarried, and had been told you were pleasing to look at. It was only a matter of time, really. 

So you stood in your home, your sobbing mother still holding you, as three shrine maidens walked in. They were quiet, older women dressed in white robes with downcast faces. They bowed to your parents, as if thanking them for their involuntary sacrifice, then took you by the hands. One of them helped your father pry your mother’s arms away from you as the other two led you outside. You didn’t even have time to say goodbye to your parents. 

You went with the shrine maidens willingly. To struggle or resist would mean death for you and your family, and then another girl would be in your place, being pulled out of her home while her parents cried. It would happen to someone regardless tomorrow night, but at least this would spare one family the misery. 

The shrine maidens took you to a small temple that sat at the base of Sukuna’s shrine. There they removed your simple garments and had you step into a large, warm bath. Floating in the water were near countless cherry blossoms, giving the entire room a sweet fragrance. You looked at the pretty pink flowers and, upon realizing this was the last time you would see them, began to cry. 

One of the women came closer and rubbed your shoulder in a comforting manner. You looked up at her in surprise. The shrine maidens were normally quite stoic, keeping to themselves, maintaining Sukuna’s shrine between festivals, and helping to prepare offerings and see to the Lord’s needs while he was there. From your understanding, they were the only people besides the village elders who were allowed to have any contact with Lord Sukuna at all. 

“Try to keep your head down,” the shrine maiden whispered, “and don’t look at Lord Sukuna until he tells you to. In fact, don’t do anything until he tells you to. Try to please him in whatever way he asks.”

You wiped your tears with your hands and looked at her sadly. “Does it even matter? Has any woman pleased him enough to survive?”

The shrine maiden’s grip on your shoulder became slightly more firm. “It does matter! If you please him, he might give you a quick death. We’ve been forced to clean up the remains of many women who displeased him. Believe me, you don’t want to be among their number. There are far worse fates than being beheaded.”

You shivered at her warning, but decided on the spot to follow her advice. Although the shrine maidens had remained silent about what happened to the other offered women, only confirming their deaths, rumors had drifted among the village for years. Stories of women being skinned alive, having their eyes ripped out of their sockets, having every bone in their bodies broken and their mangled limbs twisted into nightmarish shapes. You’d always hoped they were merely stories made up by the more morbidly curious villagers. 

You composed yourself and then asked the older woman a question. “What is he like?”

The woman glanced back at the other shrine maidens who were preparing a garment for you to wear, then said in a low voice, “Lord Sukuna is cruel. He has no mercy for anyone. He is a monster.”

You felt your heart sink. You would be taken by this man tonight, and you’d never even laid eyes upon him. 

When the bath was finished, you stepped out and were dried off by the women. They then dressed you in an extremely thin white robe. It was so thin that you were certain anyone could see right through it, making you feel embarrassed at the thought of walking into the shrine this way. Then you reminded yourself that he would probably rip it from your body anyway. 

They lightly painted your face and combed out your hair, leaving it unadorned. Then they opened the doors and motioned for you to follow. 

As you climbed the steps to the shrine, the shrine maiden who had spoken to you before gave you instructions. 

“When you enter, keep your eyes down toward the floor. Lord Sukuna will be seated on a dais before you, but you must not look up at him until you are given permission. Once you reach the dais, bow down as low as possible and remain that way until commanded otherwise.”

Your heart was pounding as you neared the end of the stone steps, and the end of your life. You stopped in front of the doors and took several deep breaths to try and steady yourself, then you lowered your gaze to the space in front of your bare feet as the women opened the shrine. 

You could feel his eyes upon you from the moment you stepped inside. The shrine maidens did not accompany you, and closed the doors behind you, leaving you to your fate. You slowly walked forward, keeping your eyes down, feeling a terrifying sense of pressure emanating from the dais that was supposed to be in front of you. 

The walk toward the dais was nerve wracking. You didn’t know how close or far it was, and you felt naked in the sheer robe, your cheeks no doubt burning red at the thought of this man staring at you. 

When you saw the edge of the dais come into view, you stopped and immediately knelt down, pressing your face to the floor as you always did with the other villagers every year. Then you waited. 

For several minutes, you heard nothing. No breathing, no movement. Then a smooth, deep voice said, “You may look up now.”

You shuddered, then worked up the courage to raise your head slightly while maintaining a posture of submission. When you did, your vision was suddenly full of the man your village worshipped, the dreaded monster called Sukuna. 

He was a man, not a beast, and you were shocked by how handsome he was. He sat not on his chair but across it, one leg drawn up at his side and the other hanging down, in a surprisingly casual pose. He wore white robes, the front open to his waist to reveal a muscular torso that drew your eye. 

His face was lined with strange tattoos, and in his eyes there was an intensity that nearly took your breath away. You remained perfectly still even as your heart thundered in your chest. You didn’t know what was happening, why you suddenly felt drawn to this man. You could feel the danger, you had the sense that he would rip you to shreds without a second thought, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Something about the terror he provoked also excited you. With a spike of alarm, you realized you wanted to touch him. 

When he spoke again, his voice had a silky texture that made you feel weak. 

“There are three types of women who end up here,” he began, looking down at you as if you were an insect he was about to stomp on. “There are those foolish enough to think they can seduce me. They feign love, and I let them live in their delusions, right up until I take them to my bed. The delusions shatter pretty quickly then.”

His lips curved up into a fiendish smirk, and you were left wondering what terrible things he did to those women in his bed. 

“Then there are the pathetic ones who cry and beg for mercy from the start” he went on. “Unfortunately this is the most common type. I have my way with them and then utterly destroy them. It’s what they deserve for boring me.”

Were these the women who displeased him? The ones who received the most brutal deaths? The cruelty of it stunned you, that the weakest and most frightened women were given the most horrific fates. 

“The last type is my favorite,” he said with a haunting grin, “the ones who fight and scream and claw. These provide me with the most amusement, but sadly are the most rare. It’s hilarious, you see, to watch them slowly realize they never had a chance in the first place. I enjoy breaking their bodies and their spirits. And to reward them for the entertainment, I have them on my plate after having them in my bed.”

Your eyes widened as his words sank in. Plate? Meaning he ate them? He kept grinning, perhaps guessing what you were thinking. You felt a wave of nausea hit your stomach, but you kept your breakfast from coming back up through sheer force of will. 

“I wonder what type you are,” he said, his red eyes boring into you, his unusually sharp teeth bared in his smile. “Try not to disappoint me.”

He stood up then, and his height was imposing, even more so because you were still kneeling on the floor. 

You kept your expression blank, but your mind was racing. What type were you? None of the three he described matched how you felt. You had initially resigned yourself to your fate, and had planned to simply be quiet and obedient until he tired of you and killed you. But now that you were in his overwhelming presence, you couldn’t suppress the thrill you felt, the animal-like attraction to this brutal yet beautiful man. 

The rational part of your brain was filled with terror and dread. Lord Sukuna was going to do indescribably awful things to you this night, then murder you and discard you as if you were nothing. But a bizarre little piece of your brain, one you’d never realized was there before now, was growing more excited by the moment. 

“Stand,” he commanded, and you hurriedly got to your feet. You felt your face burning again when his eyes roamed over your barely concealed body. He turned and walked toward the back of the shrine, looking over his shoulder at you to say, “Follow.”  

You obeyed, walking after him, careful to remain several steps behind. You soon came to a room marked off by sheer curtains, which Lord Sukuna pulled back to reveal the most lavish, ornate bed you had ever seen. Unlike the thin futon you were used to, this bed was thick and elevated off the floor. There were silk pillows and a satin-lined blanket, and the fabrics had apparently been perfumed, as they carried a heady, floral scent. 

When Sukuna reached the bed, he stood beside it and turned to face you. “Remove your robe,” he said in his rich voice. 

You nearly buckled right then and there. The fear and shame were mixing with arousal, and you thought you might collapse. With shaking fingers, you untied the thin sash around your waist. Then, with Sukuna watching intently, you opened the robe and slipped it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. 

You’d never been bare in front of a man before, and it felt as if your skin burned wherever his gaze fell as his eyes moved up and down your form. 

He stepped closer and looked down at you, into your eyes. Did he see the turmoil inside you? The raging war between horror and lust? 

His hands fell upon your trembling shoulders, and his touch felt electric. Finally, his hands on your skin! But then he jerked your body around so that you faced away from him, and those hands roughly explored your exposed flesh. One of them squeezed your right breast while the other moved down to grope between your legs. You gasped at the sensations, at being touched in this way for the first time, at the realization that you didn’t hate it even though his touch was harsh. 

One of his fingers slipped into your folds, and  your breath hitched in your throat as he grazed over a particularly sensitive spot. You felt him pause, both hands going still, and then he suddenly turned you back around to face him. He seemed to study your face for a moment, and then a smirk spread across his features. 

All at once you were thrown onto the bed, your little cry of surprise ignored as Lord Sukuna slowly climbed on top of you. His hands were upon you again, grabbing and kneading the soft, plush areas of your body, his grip strong and bruising. He moved down, then pushed your knees up toward your chest, opening your thighs obscenely wide apart. 

There was a strange look in his eyes as he gazed down at your most private place, and again that smirk. He bent down, his face getting so close to your body that you could feel his breath. You couldn’t help blushing at the closeness, and then you felt something warm and wet glide up your slit. When you looked down, his tongue was extended from his mouth, a string of clear fluid attaching it to your body. 

A shudder rippled through you as he dove back in, this time pressing his tongue in between the folds of flesh to lick your swollen and sensitive clit. “Ah… ahh!” The small quick moans escaped your lips before you could stop them, and you felt a stab of fear when Sukuna looked up at your face. You were told not to do anything without his permission, so you had refrained from speaking. You didn’t want to displease him in any way, so you were trying to be completely silent. But when his tongue returned to your clit, circling it and then pressing into the top corner, even more moans came out. 

Lord Sukuna continued until your body stiffened, your hands gripping the silken sheets as pleasure shot through you and one last, long moan broke free. He pulled away from you and looked down, watching you pant as you started to drop your tired legs back down. He grabbed them before they could straighten and touch the bed, pressing your knees back up. 

You looked at him just as he opened his own robe, revealing the same pattern of black tattoos all over his body. It was a strangely alluring sight, but your eyes were quickly drawn to the very large and imposing organ between his legs. It stood stiff and ready, and you knew what was about to happen. 

Sukuna looked you in the eyes as he shoved himself inside you, so deep and so hard that you could only describe the motion as violent. He didn’t give you even a moment to adjust before he was thrusting viciously into you. It hurt, and even as naive as you were, you understood that he wanted it to hurt. He was clearly being as rough as he possibly could without literally tearing you apart, and tears stung your eyes as you bit back a scream, using one hand to cover your own mouth. 

Sukuna pulled your hand away from your face, then leaned down close and spoke into your ear, a whisper that that sent shivers through you despite the pain you were in, “Cry for me. I’ll allow it. Let me hear your voice.”

Hearing that, you let out a cry of pain before beginning to sob. You looked up him with wet eyes and found him grinning, enjoying your suffering. He truly was a monstrous man. His motions only became rougher, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you thought he might crush them. 

“Please… L-lord Sukuna…” you managed to cry out.

“Please what?” Again, that voice in your ear, that self-satisfied smile while watching you cry. 

“I-I don’t… I don’t know…” You didn’t know what you wanted. Did you want him to stop? You wanted the pain to end, but you didn’t want him to climb off you. 

“Really? Then I won’t let up.”

Unbelievably, he was thrusting even harder, even deeper. When you could no longer bear it, your hands that had been clenched at your sides flew up to wrap around his neck. He would probably kill you for touching him without permission, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Clutching him in your arms somehow made the agony between your legs subside just a little. 

If he was angered by your touch, he didn’t show it. Instead, he laughed as if he were amused by your desperation. 

Finally, when you were nearly at the limit of what you could withstand, you felt Sukuna’s cock twitch, his body go tense, and then  warm, sticky fluid shoot inside you. Your arms slipped down from his neck as he pulled out of you and let your sore legs fall to the bed. Somewhere in your dazed mind you knew this was the end. He’d had his fun with you and now he would kill you, just like all the others. You saw him stand up from the bed and wrap his robe around himself, but before he could even turn around, you passed out. 

*****

Sukuna looked down at the offering, feeling slightly annoyed that she had given out so quickly. She had held out better than most, however. 

Despite what he’d told her earlier, over half the women offered to him never even made it to his bed. They were crying too loudly or shoving their fake affection in his face or even having the gall to try to attack him. They ended up as chunks of meat in front of the dais. 

But this girl had been frustratingly blank and silent. He’d considered beheading her, but on a whim had decided to force a reaction out of her, thinking she could provide some entertainment. The reaction he got was not what he’d expected. 

Sukuna was fully capable of making a woman become aroused, but it was always after applying plenty of stimulation to certain areas, not because he wanted to pleasure them, but because fucking them felt better for him when they were wet. This girl, however, was practically dripping from the moment he first touched her. And when he’d looked at her face, he’d seen reddened cheeks and lusty, glazed eyes. He also saw fear, and that mixture was too delicious to waste. 

Those sounds she’d made, from the little hitching breaths to the soft moans she’d struggled to hold back, to the screams and cries of pain, had all been irresistible. He wanted to hear more of them. 

He stood looming over the bed, watching the growing red stain beneath her naked, still open thighs, and wondered what he should do with her. He could kill her right then and there as she slept, but that would be boring. Much better to listen to her sweet death cries. 

He reached up and absently touched the back of his neck. He could still feel her weak arms clinging to him. He stared down at the bruised and bleeding girl in his bed, at her sleeping tear-streaked face, and came to a decision. 

He summoned one of the shrine maidens, who entered the room with her eyes on the floor. She pointedly avoided looking toward the bed, probably afraid of what she would see. 

“Inform the village I won’t be needing a woman tomorrow night,” Sukuna told her. “I’m not finished with this one yet.”

The shrine maiden’s face lifted very slightly, the shock so much that she nearly forgot her manners. She quickly bowed again and said, “Yes, Lord Sukuna,” before hurrying out of the room. 

He sat down on the bed, then sighed before pulling a thin silken sheet up and draping it over the offering’s body. 

“Sleep while you can,” he murmured, a wicked grin returning to his face. “Tomorrow you’ll be entertaining me again.”

[yichuuonvenus]

The Willow Maid

Dark!Peter Parker x Reader

~Description~

You were enchanting… Everything about you made him floored by you from the way you smiled to the way you moved. Your hair always seemed to shine in the moonlight. Just like right now.

~Warnings~

Rape/Non-con, Possessive Behavior, Face Slapping, Dryad!reader, Hunter!Peter Parker, Fantasy AU

You were enchanting…

Everything about you made him floored by you from the way you smiled to the way you moved. 

Your hair always seemed to shine in the moonlight. 

Just like right now.

Peter couldn’t stop staring at you. He came across you suddenly when he heard a voice singing. The music that came from your lips had him enchanted by you. It was so soft and sweet. It sounded like a song that was meant for him. 

You were like a dream to Peter. A beautiful magical dream he didn’t want to wake from. He knew from the first song your voice prettily sang you were rightfully his. 

He wanted only him to hear your sweet loving songs. For him to be the only one you sang to. That’s what he decided the day he wanted to take you away and marry you. 

He followed you every day constantly and marked what you did, how you did it, why you did it. He figured out that you lived on the willow tree. Sleeping in the sturdier part of the branches. There you would make blankets out of the yarn-like leaves and sing your heavenly songs. 

You never left the forest, or the willow tree. It was like a post. He noticed how you would hug the tree and talk to it as if it could understand you. He loved just watching when you talked to the tree. The smile that would grace your face only made him fall deeper in love with you. 

Today, you were just lazing about on the forest bed waving your hand through the water, giggling at the fishes that swam up to kiss your hand. You look so blissful just laying there enjoying the water. 

He decided that today was the day he was going to make you, his. That he was going to introduce himself instead of watching you. 

He stepped steadily into view but you didn’t look up so he stepped a bit closer. His shadow and reflection mirrored in the water, all the fishes swam away scared by the sudden shadow. Your hand stopped waving through the water for a moment and you focused on the reflection. You carefully turned around and when you did your beauty was one like no other. 

You both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before he finally broke the silence. 

“My maiden… I I have been enchanted by you…” he said eyes filled with admiration. 

Your gaze remained unchanged, a look of neither surprise nor nervousness. It was just your natural face, a face of pure serenity. 

“Come with me. Come with me, my maiden,” he whispered the last part but he knew you still heard him.

He didn’t know if you understood him until you shook your head.

You spoke, your voice ever so gentle made his heart sing but the words that left your mouth made his immediately made him snap out of it, “I cannot leave this place, Hunter. Don't ask me to follow where you lead.” 

Before he could even have a chance to think you left him, disappearing in the willow’s thick leaves. 

Peter stared dumbfounded at the place you left him. He wanted to follow you towards the tree but he didn’t see signs of you anywhere around or in the tree. 

He knew he had to try again. 

No, He needed to try again and this time you wouldn’t say no. 

. . . 

Peter held a yellow flower he’s seen you stare at often in awe and smell with glee on your face. He thought since you rarely left, it would be nice if you could have the flower for yourself.

You were staring out into the River bank humming softly while braiding bits of your hair. You looked so serene like you’ve known nothing but the calamity of the forest for your entire life. Peter would be the one to change that, to show you the world. 

You stopped when you heard him. You turned your head with a look he couldn’t quite place. 

“My maiden, your beauty is nothing compared to this flower but I hope it will suffice…” he gently laid the flower in your hands.

You gently held the flower in your hands and stared at it. Your eyebrows furrowed while you looked at it. 

“I’m enchanted by you and your beauty. I want to be the only one who listens to your sweet songs. I hope to be your husband,” he said eyes gleaming at you. 

You couldn’t hide your feelings. Your face said it all as your lips curved into a soft frown and tears started to well in your eyes. 

You shook your head just like before while holding the flower tightly to your chest. 

“I will never marry you,” you said, the frown on your face becoming more apparent. “Not near, nor far, nor soon.” 

A small why left Peter’s lips as you stared at him. As if you were frightened you stepped back towards your willow. Peter couldn’t let you go. Not yet. Not while you are not giving him an answer as to why. 

Peter gripped your dress. You let out a yep before trying to pull him off, tearing it in the process just before you vanished. 

Peter was angry. You left him again just after he gave you a flower and poured his feelings into you. 

“You will come to regret your decision,” he said into the wind. You still heard him and shook as you laid the flower on the willow tree’s branches, softly crying for him to just go away. 

Days went by. 

Then weeks. 

Then months… 

He was nowhere to be found. 

You went on your day like any other. It was sunny and the green lush leaves of your tree shined brilliantly. You lay on the grass, admiring the new flowers that were growing in. It was all so peaceful. That hunter was finally gone and you could enjoy protecting your tree. 

You could’ve laid there all day but you had things to do. Things that were important to the plant life of the forest. You went on your way. You could never stray from your tree or your forest so you had the help of little rabbits and squirrels to get you the things you needed. 

You felt something was wrong for a moment like there was an impending doom that was about to befall the forest. You wanted to ignore it. Your mother protected you and the woods, surely nothing would happen. 

Oh how wrong you were. 

You felt a hit to the back of your head and when you came to. You were on the forest floor with nothing on. You would’ve screamed if there wasn’t a gag in your mouth. Your hands were tied. There was no way you could’ve freed yourself. There was a voice in your ear telling you it was okay. Whispering how much you looked tonight while they petted your hair. 

Your lungs almost gave out from your muffled screams. That hunter was right above you, kissing your face, using his filthy hands to touch your body, stroking and touching the most precious parts of you. 

“Mother,” you tried to say. “Mother help me.”

But no one came. No one was there to save you. You cried when you realized it. That no one was coming for you. Not even your mother. 

His eyes were so soft as they stared back at yours, which made you confused. You could feel that he was conflicted with what he wanted to do. You didn’t sense any regret nor was he upset with what he was about to do. He pressed his fingers against you, slowly rubbing your clit until you were wet enough for his fingers. He kept his fingers there while his other hand lowered down to a spot that had you screaming. You kept twisting the rope that was holding you it was rubbing your skin raw and you could smell the blood that came from it. 

A harsh slap made you stop altogether. It was so hard it had your ears ringing throughout your head. 

“My sweet maiden please forgive me. I just wanted to calm you,” he said as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

What he was feeling now was remorse but it wasn’t for you. It was for him because he didn’t want to hit you. He was upset because you made him hit you. You could’ve thrown up at the emotions you were feeling from him. The scent of no regrets of what he wanted to do to you made you sick. 

Fingers stuff themselves deep into you. You’ve never felt anything more intrusive than his fingers. They are what made you quiet other than your deep breaths that he mistook. For what you weren’t sure but he made him happy every time you cried out. 

When he felt like he was done he pulled down his trousers. He couldn’t wait as he hurriedly untied them. You knew that there was no going back after this. He held his cock over you. It was thick and veiny with an angry red tip. It had you choking just by the look at it. You held your breath and closed your eyes as he slid it back and forth till he was slick enough with your wetness. 

Slowly he entered and all the air inside your lungs left you. It was a piercing sensation that took over the bottom half of your body. It was so painful, every waking moment made you feel like you were on the verge of passing out. 

“Relax… my maiden relax,” he said. 

Relax? After being taken against your will and being violated in the worst possible way. You wanted to hurt him, a feeling that you’ve never felt before. You wanted to kill him. You couldn’t even move or breathe for that matter. 

What disgusted you the most was his moans as he thrusts slowly, lovingly even. He was so infatuated by your beauty that he didn’t even notice the fact that your face looked so disgusted by the sight of him. 

It finally got easier after what felt like hours of him just thrusting into you. It felt like it was never-ending. If this was what it felt like to be with someone you’re supposed to love you were having none of it. It was like the devil himself made his own personal hell for you. His thrusts, his pants that were all over your face and neck, and his hands constantly touching you. 

You felt like you were about to break apart. And break apart you did. This feeling that was so overwhelming it had your legs wanting to close. Your body was quivering so hard you thought maybe this was it. The small death before absolution. 

Your gasps and pants fell from your lips and continued to come out as the hunter got faster and faster. He wasn’t done. Not yet not when he was so close. He did one final thrust that had him calling out to the gods above. 

Wet and sticky was all you felt when he pulled himself from you. You couldn’t bring yourself to sit up to look at what he did to you. There was no way you could’ve handled it. So you lay there as he pulled on his clothes. He removed your restraints mostly because he knew you wouldn’t get up and run around. There was no way you could’ve not with the aching pain between your legs. 

You hear the hunter pick up something and start to hit your tree. Your willow tree. You ran towards him. You didn’t know where the sudden energy came from but you knew that you needed to stop whatever he was doing. He pushed you down before swinging his axe again. 

“I’m freeing you, my dear maiden.”

One… two… three more strikes and your tree was down. You felt tears form at the base of your eye-line. You hugged the tree, crying into it. Whispering sorrows and pleas for forgiveness. You didn’t do anything to it but you still as though you needed to ask it for forgiveness. You shook as you sobbed into the bark. You wanted nothing more than to disappear. Go to a place where this hunter could never hurt you again. 

You had nowhere to go now. No home to call yours. He gently picked you up as you sobbed. You sobbed in his chest the whole way towards the edge of the forest. He took you. He took something that didn’t belong to him. You felt yourself fading as soon as he stepped one foot out of the forest. You didn’t know what was happening only that you could feel your energy slipping away. 

Peter screamed and fell to his knees when he saw your body practically turn into dust and in your stead of where the powder of your body used to be grew a flower. It was beautiful. One he had never seen before. He touched the flower and his body stayed in that position as if a punishment for taking something from the forest that was never meant to leave. 

His final thought was only of you. 

At least his body would remain close to you.

[peachdues]

The Great War — super hella NSFW edition

Giyuu x F!Shrine Maiden (Giyuu’s Bundle of Joy)

A/N: the expanded scene from a teaser I posted a few days ago, in which Giyuu applies one of his many lessons from Tengen. Arguably the night he gets Reader’s eggo preggo (you can’t tell me he wouldn’t be capable after a couple of enthusiastic tries)

Read the first NSFW teaser here

CW: 1.1k words. pure smut (oral F!receiving) Just filth. Giyuu is hungry. MDNI. NSFW below the cut.

Giyuu settled in against the floor of his engawa, his arm winding around Y/N’s upper thigh to hold her open to him as he peppered feather light kisses up the length of her legs.

“G-Giyuu! What are you — oh,” Y/N moaned, head falling back against the polished wood as the ravenette pressed a soft kiss against her inner thigh.

“I want to help you feel good,” he murmured, using his hand to softly push her other thigh so that she was spread wide for him. Giyuu was surprised at the sudden heat that surged in his blood at the sight of Y/N so exposed like this, as though she were his own personal feast.

The folds of her kimono had been pushed from her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the cool, damp evening air, and Giyuu had pushed apart the garment’s hem to reveal her nether region to his heated stare. Y/N had never felt more exposed.

Or more desired.

As Giyuu looked upon his fiance’s glistening core, his mouth watering, he realized that Tengen had indeed been right. The urge to bestow upon Y/N the same pleasure she’d given him during that first night overtook every urge, every rational thought in his head, merging with a primal need to make her his.

He remembered the way she’d cried out his name during that first night they’d shared, and he was overcome with the desire to have her do it again, to call out for him in that same breathy, needy sigh.

Before he brought his mouth to her, Giyuu recalled the Sound Pillar’s advice to begin with his fingers. Ignoring the slight annoyance he felt at the way his single-arm limited his ability to explore Y/N’s alluring body, Giyuu brought his index and middle finger against the slit of her core, starting from the bottom, and slowly dragging them up. When he reached the small nub at the apex of her thighs, he pressed down.

“Giyuu!” Y/N gasped, her thighs clenching around this hand desperately.

Her lover only smirked as he dipped the tips of his fingers past her folds and swirled it around her bead, marveling at how her slick gathered around his digits so quickly.

Y/N moaned, her head falling back with a soft thud against the wooden floor of the porch, her nipples stiffening with her arousal. In the back of his mind, Giyuu groused once more over his lack of a second hand, because he wanted nothing more than to take one of her sumptuous breasts in hand and tease her until she begged for him.

Y/N was panting as she felt something unfamiliar in her belly begin to tighten under each ministration of Giyuu’s heavenly fingers. Before she could pursue that feeling further, Giyuu’s fingers dropped to her entrance, prodding at her opening in slight hesitation.

Y/N lifted her head to meet Giyuu’s heated gaze.

“Trust me,” he murmured between her thighs, and perhaps it was because he looked so daring, so sensual by the way his eyes had darkened from azure to navy, that Y/N could only nod in response.

Slowly, Giyuu’s index finger pushed into her and Y/N gasped, struggling to keep her hips still as they involuntarily bucked at the unfamiliar sensation.

She was about to ask Giyuu what he was doing, when her fiancé brought his mouth down against her core and gave her a strong lick.

“Oh my— Giyuu,” the sound that left her throat as her lover repeated the action was foreign to her ears, but it seemed to only spur the ravenous Water Pillar on, as he withdrew his finger from her and latched his lips around her sensitive bud.

But when she felt his tongue, hot and silken, slip past her entrance, Y/N lost all control. Her hands shot to grip her fiance’s raven-locks, fingers digging into his scalp as a wanton moan tore from her throat.

“Fuck,” the Miko cursed, her hips jerking against his mouth as Giyuu growled against her flesh, his mouth working against her with even more vigor.

Y/N supposed, once upon a time, she’d known the names of the gods whose shrines she’d guarded, of those she prayed to for the safety of all.

Now, she only knew the name of the raven-haired god buried between her thighs, feasting upon her like she was his sacred offering.

“Giyuu,” she moaned, her head falling back as her hips bucked wildly against his fervent mouth, her ankles locking around his shoulders.

Giyuu increased the pressure of his tongue against her pearl as his fingers slid back into her opening to work tirelessly inside her, stretching and pushing her muscles to prepare her for him.

He savored the way her body seemed to tense with every passing second, her sighs and moans becoming breathier, more urgent, as the coil within her tightened.

Giyuu lapped harder at her pulsing core, a low growl coming from his throat as he pressed his face harder against her, intoxicated by her scent and the taste of her juices on his tongue.

Two licks and a soft graze of his teeth against her sensitive nub later, and Y/N cried out his name, arcing up off the wood as her ankles dug harder into the muscles of his back and her thighs tightened deliciously around his head. Giyuu groaned as her sweet nectar filled his mouth, her muscles clenching around his fingers, and he ground his hips into the engawa floor below him, desperate to relieve some of the incessant ache in his own groin.

The ravenette finally tore his mouth from her, and Y/N collapsed heavily back against the ground, her breath hard and fast.

She looked down at where her fiancé panted between her legs, his eyes as wide as she knew hers to be.

“Giyuu,” she said breathlessly, her chest rapidly rising and falling. “That was -“

“Incredible,” her lover finished, his lips shiny with her slick as he looked back down to her spent core in wonder. Giyuu began to lower his mouth back down to her aching bead. “I wish to do it again.”

As his tongue grazed her overstimulated center, Y/N hissed. “Giyuu,” she cried, gyrating her hips against his mouth despite the sweet pain of his teeth grazing against her lovingly abused flesh once more. “I need you. In me.”

Giyuu’s eyes went as round as saucers, a blush forming on his cheeks that mirrored her own.

“Please,” she begged.

Giyuu’s hand fumbled with the opening of his pants in his haste, his heart pounding. “Yes,” he leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss against Y/N’s waiting lips, his tongue sliding in to dance with hers before he pulled away to free himself of his clothing.

[bdxpelik]

Chapter 18 of the 8th LN of the Apothecary Diaries is hilarious simply because Jinshi was pissed.

For context, a Go tournament was held because of this interesting trend that started after Lakan published and distributed a book on Go. The goal was to advance through the tournament and compete against the master strategist himself. If one were to win, Lakan would grant them one favor. So Jinshi decided it was worth a shot and very nearly almost won a game against Lakan by playing dirty tricks, subtly drugging Lakan with tiny doses of alcohol and exploiting his heavenly good looks - this is important otherwise he'd never even have a chance.

Lakan and Jinshi's game was interrupted (again, Jinshi was winning) by an angry buffoon who demanded Loumen to find his missing son (related to a case Maomao and Luomen handled earlier in the novel). So the chapter consists of our gang trying to solve this mystery. And Jinshi fuming in the background because he lost his chance to beat Lakan thanks to some Karen of an old man.

And it is HILARIOUS to me cuz this is one of those rare times where I ACTUALLY feel like he's a bona fide Imperial prince with real authority, barking orders at people and making them cower in fear. It's also really rare for him to openly display his anger in public sans his celestial maiden mask.

I was so entertained. It was hard to focus on what was happening in the chapter cuz at every line I can still feel Jinshi's disgust. Mind you, he had nothing to do with that case but he sat there listening because he was curious (very typical of him) and he needed some compensation for his frustration. So, watching a drama unfold is good enough.

This got me so good: Jinshi was quiet and fiddling with Go stones the majority of the time. But when the discussion was going off the rails, he used his princely authority to redirect the situation, making sure to take extra care to remind the old baffoon that "You interrupted my game". I bet there was a good dose of poison in his voice. Jinshi ordered that old man to shut up a total of 3 times in the chapter, btw lol.

The chapter ended with the mystery solved and Maomao (who at this point thinks about him wayyy too much *wink*) feeling sorry for Jinshi who she believed was the least fortunate person there. NOT the old dude who lost his son, we didn't care about him.

Anyhow, I just really loved this chapter because Jinshi didn't use a fake mask to interact with his subjects nor did he let them walk all over him and I'm like, yasss king. You da boss, make it clear. Also, he validated Maomao's skills and intelligence in front of everyone. That's your dose of Jinmao.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The Devil (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: The corpse in your bathroom is not a corpse, but rather a pure blood fanatic with a penchant for child brides. You are not impressed.

Warnings: Violence, sexual thoughts, mature language.

A/N: Part of my Halloween celebration! Part 1 here.

There is a girl screaming, somewhere. It forces Daemon out of his slumber, groaning. Gods, what in the Seven Hells had he done to deserve such a rough awakening?

“Ugh. Stop that, girl.” He says, getting up from the wet stone floor he lays on. It's oddly smooth under his palms. Daemon braces himself for the wave of nausea that will surely follow, expecting the horrible hangover he has gotten every time he drinks ever since he turned thirty.

One would think it gets easier, with age. It does not. And surely, if he had drank enough to not remember where he is or how he got here, this was going to be the mother of all hangovers.

Much to his astonishment, it's not. There is no pounding headache, nor is there a wave of nausea that follows his movement. Daemon is unable to marvel at it, though. The vague sound of a girl whimpering and cowering forces him to stop his pondering and instead focus on the problem at hand.

“Stop that, you little fool. I am not going to hurt you.” Getting up was much harder than he thought. His body feels heavier than it should. It's only as he looks down that he realizes that he is still in his armor, covered in blood.

Daemon understands it, then. He remembers the battle at the Stepstones, and his triumph over that damn crab. He looks you over and smiles.

You are a pretty thing. Younger than him, and terribly shy, you cower in a corner of what appears to be a bathing room. Someone has made sure that you bathe, as you stand before him in only a flimsy towel.

His men have always been a loyal bunch. Daemon had chosen them well. They didn't disappoint, anticipating his needs and sending someone to serve him. And not just anyone, but a woman who is exactly to his liking.

The bath is already drawn. He cannot wait to get inside it.

“Come here.” He orders you, and your face scrunches up in displeasure. “Help me get out of my armor.”

You take a hesitant step towards him before halting.

“I… I… You… There is blood.” And it's quite a dumb comment, but what else can he expect? He doesn't blame his men for not having found the epitome of wisdom here. There are barely any women at all. It's commendable enough that they have managed to find someone as sweet looking as you are.

You cower more. Your eyes shift to the door of the bathing room. That, he cannot have. Daemon wonders if you have been instructed already on what is expected of you, or if they had just shoved you into this room and ordered you to obey.

He steps closer to you, crowding you. The warm light compliments your skin, making you glow under the candlelight. You have an innocent air about you, all big eyes and pouty lips. The skin of your shoulders and arms is soft and unmarred. A perfect maiden, just in the bloom of youth.

“My men chose you well. You are a pretty one.” His dirty, bloodied hands come to grasp your pristine towel, pulling it away. You are naked as the day you were born, all displayed for his hungry eyes.

Gorgeous breasts. Lush hips. All smooth, perfect skin. If Daemon were a lesser man, he would be slobbering at the way your bosom bounces with your struggles, how your skin flushes and shines with the exertion.

“What are you doing? Leave me alone, leave me alone!” You are a feisty little thing, trying to wrestle your towel out of his hands. You are also slapping at him, everywhere you can reach.

Seven Hells. You are perfect for him, aren't you?

Daemon pulls you closer, hugging you to him. This close, he can smell the herbs and oils in your hair and skin, and it is heavenly. You smell clean and pure. Good enough to eat.

“You are so soft.” He trails kisses along your neck, keeping your wrists pinned down to your sides. You squirm, making faces and aborted noises. “And for how you struggle, you are pure too. Oh, I haven't seen a woman in months.”

“You are disgusting.” You finally manage to push him away, and you move towards a corner of the room. There is a bunch of fabric there that you quickly snatch. It's not a color he has ever seen before. You pull it over your head, and it's only then Daemon realizes it is a shirt. “Get out!”

“Don't be like that, little girl. You will be rewarded handsomely.” He says, half-heartedly. While play fighting might be fun, Daemon is too tired to truly fight you. Besides, he finds it distasteful. He might coerce, but rape is another matter altogether.

“I am not a sex worker!” You complain, from your corner in the room.

"Not for sale, huh?” Daemon smiles. He is amused at your refusal. Most serving girls would trip all over themselves for a night with him, especially if he was offering money for it. Not you, though. You were awfully proud for a commoner. It would only make seducing you more sweet.

“Who the hell are you?” Your voice is snappish. It seems like you finally lost your patience. It's not the tone that makes him pause, though. Daemon has realized from early on that you are quite spirited. No, instead, it's the fact that you don't know him.

“Daemon Targaryen.” He offers, after a pause. The idea of not being recognized in sight is one that is deeply confusing to him. Even here, so far from his home, he is known by the men and women that serve his army. For the Seven's sake, even the Crab King's men shudder at the mere mention of his name.

Something must be wrong. Daemon is somewhere he shouldn't be. There is no other explanation for this, and it makes his skin crawl.

You stare at him, in silence. Your lips purse. There appears to be a storm raging behind your eyes. Whatever confusing thoughts you are having, you do not share them with him. Instead, you point towards the door.

“No. Nope. Out!”

And Daemon, after realizing something is very wrong, does not have the heart to argue. He walks out of the bathing room, head hanging low. He is not ashamed, but he's not sure of what he feels, either.

When he crosses the threshold, the feeling of wrongness intensifies. There is a bright, white light illuminating the space he finds himself in. It doesn't look natural, it is much too harsh for it.

The furniture in the room is all wrong, too. There is nothing made of wood in sight, the love seat is shaped wrong and there is some strange artifact resting on it. Everything he touches seems to be made of a lighter material than wood and rock, that feels off against his skin.

Daemon grabs a small rectangle, covered in raised numbers. He presses down on them, curious about their texture.

Something on the wall lights up. People appear on the walls. Daemon screams, startled by their sudden appearance.

“Who are you? Identify yourselves!”

The people on the wall ignore him. He takes out Dark Sister. Now that he looks at them, Daemon realizes they are not people. They are too small for it. They must be something different. He thinks of the beasts of Old Valyria and comes up blank.

“Are you trying to stab my TV?” Your voice makes him turn, swinging his sword. You are gaping at him. Somewhere along his journey through this strange room, you seem to have found some men's underclothes that loosely cover your legs. You still wear the same shirt, which does nothing to support your bosom. It should make you look deeply unattractive, yet somehow, it does not. Perhaps, because Daemon knows exactly what hides under those clothes.

“Seven Hells, girl.” Daemon rubs a hand over his face. He is starting to get a headache. “Why are there tiny people on the wall?”

“It's…” You grab the rectangle from his hand and press something. The people on the wall disappear. “It's not real. It's like a picture.”

“A painting, you mean?” Daemon frowns. He had never heard something like it. You seem about to explain, so he shakes his head. “It's no matter. I see you traded your clothing for something that hides your charms. Good thinking. It will make it easier to focus around you. ”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms over your chest. Daemon can't help but leer. You are just too damn easy to rile up.

"Rather unfashionable, though.” He adds. “And it doesn't hide your chest fully.”

“This is nonsensical.” You say, sitting down on your strange love seat and pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. “Fucking witch.”

“Witch?” Daemon sits next to you. The love seat is made of dark leather. He guesses his armor won't stain it too much. It's awkward regardless, the joints in the metal not meant to bend that way. He starts taking off the chest plate, only paying you half a mind. He figures the venting that will surely come will bore him to tears.

Listening without hearing it's an art Daemon perfected a long time ago. Entertaining young maidens is no hard task at all. Mostly, they are pleased with hearing a few awed sounds here and there and some insightful questions.

Most men, they don't bother pretending to listen to women at all. It is what makes him so successful when it comes to courtship. You don't actually have to listen, it's enough just pretending to do so. Girls like you, they are just like flowers. Pay them a little attention, make them feel seen, and they will open up their petals. Then, it's not hard at all to pick one.

“Oh, forget it.” You mutter, and it's so bitter it takes him aback. It occurs to him, you were probably not about to air your grievances about someone, but perhaps alluding to a true witch.

“You consort with witches? Is that the reason for these strange artifacts?” Daemon raises his eyebrows. If any, it would make some sense.

"I do not.” You answer, nose scrunching up cutely. You look rather young, but he has met whores who look like girls barely out of childhood and are old maids already. There is a certain innocence to your demeanor, though, that indicates either a sheltered life or youth. “I am about to sound insane.”

“Go on.” He stops trying to remove his chest plate and turns towards you. This time, he gives you his full attention. Your eyes are wide and earnest, not a hint of dishonesty in sight. It's very refreshing. As a Prince, he is used to people lying to him to try to gain his favor. You don't look capable of it.

“A woman, she gifted me a love spell. Unblock my path, give me my other half and all.” You give a small groan, rubbing your eyes again. Embarrassment makes you sweet, it appears.

His other half. Hm. Daemon gently cradles your jaw in one of his hands, ignoring your squeals of protest. Pretty, for a commoner, and obedient, too. Your struggling stops as soon as his grip turns harsher. You look up at him, making a face.

“You are getting blood on me.” Your voice is shaky. Daemon has always enjoyed intimidating others. There is something so delectable about seeing fear overtake someone's face and knowing he is the one in control. It's even better with women.

But with you? It's not good. It's positively delicious. Your eyes lower in submission just the barest hint, before snapping up to meet his, angered. You bite your lips, as if unsure if you should be excited or scared of the display.

It's not like it's the first time a woman shows excitement and admiration over Daemon's prowess. But it's not a common reaction. Most women, they recoil at the barest hint of a threat or complain about his brutality. Those who mix excitement with fear, in his experience, are a special type of women. One that is very fun to play with.

“A bit late for that.” Daemon gestures at the love seat, carelessly. He is not very interested in discussing this, really. He is more interested in the fact that there might be some magic at hand. And not only that, but that you might be his fated half. “I have smeared it all over your chambers already.”

“Home. Not chamber.” You correct, haughtily. It's a sad thought, that these little rooms are all you have. Yet, what else could he expect from a commoner? No matter how pitiful, though, there are more important matters.

Focus. He needs to focus and get the answer he needs. But your body is tensing up, eyes darting towards the door. You look about to try to slip out of his grip, perhaps put some distance between the two of you. Daemon can damn near taste it. So to make sure you do not move, he gets bolder.

His hand goes lower. From your jaw, to the side of your neck. Not yet at the base of it, as not to choke you, but pressing hard enough you could imagine the threat. Think about how his hand could slip a little lower, or he could press a little harder.

Your pulse jumps rabbit fast under his fingers. Your lips part. They, they close. He wonders if that is the face you would make, were him to silence you with a kiss.

“Let's not get sidetracked. You? My other half?” Daemon frowns. You are pretty enough, with an edge of wordly innocence that would lead even the most pious man to sin. But you are not Valyrian. Your hair is too dark, your eyes are not purple. Why would you be his?

When Daemon thought of settling down, he always thought it would be with a Valyrian woman. While you were a far cry from his current wife, the Bronze Bitch, you were not exactly what he had in mind.

Daemon has always wanted a Valyrian bride. It is the way things should be. The only way to honor his heritage, keep his bloodline alive, ensure his children are special. How could a Targaryen claim a dragon if their blood was so diluted they barely looked like a Targaryen anymore?

Yet, Daemon is not blind. You seem to fit him in ways he could have never expected, as if you had been made for him. If your witch, or the gods, had brought him here, there had to be a reason.

“I think the same, trust me.” You roll your eyes, a bit too cheekily for someone whose windpipe he could crush at any second. It reminds him of a puppy or kitten, trying to seem ferocious. Daemon allows it only because it is endearing.

“What's so bad about me? I am a Targaryen prince, I own a dragon, and not to mention, I am extremely handsome.” He is half joking, half serious. Daemon is a tad offended, in truth. If any, he should be the one having all sorts of qualms about you being destined for him. You are a commoner, with nothing to your name, and from an absolutely unimportant family.

“The fact that you are fictional, for starters.” You jerk your pretty little head away, scoffing. That has to be the oddest thing he has heard you say all evening. And you have said plenty.

“Fictional?”

“In books only. And a TV adaptation.” You mutter, getting up from the love seat. You grab a blanket, thrown over one of the other seats, and wrap yourself in it.

“Huh.” Daemon's mind is working faster than ever, trying to decipher what you mean. This is not Westeros. That's clear. But what is it? Is this another world where he is only a story to you? Or is this some distant future, where tales of his name and deeds have spread?

“Huh, what?” You turn towards him, all wrapped up in your blanket. You look like an empress of old, blanket over your shoulders trailing after you like a cape.

Daemon takes a step towards you. Then another. You do not move, pinned to the spot by his gaze. Your lips apart again, as if to say something. This time, he does shut you up with a kiss.

Your lips are soft against his. Your mouth is pliant, and you open up for him beautifully. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling to keep him close. Daemon doesn't care that your grip is bordering on the painful. If any, it makes him more excited.

His hands go to grasp at your hips, greedily. Your flesh yields like soft butter under his touch, and you give just the smallest sigh against his mouth.

He crowds you, walking you backwards towards a table. Your mouths are still locked together, your breath coming in hot little puffs of air against his. It's a perfect fit, and as the back of your knees hit the table, and you let yourself be lifted onto it, Daemon wonders how he could ever question you being destined to be his.

“Does that feel fictional to you?” He asks you, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your lips twitch upwards.

“I am not certain.” You grin. “You would have to kiss me again, to be sure.”

“Just to be certain.” Daemon repeats, grinning back. “We can't have you having doubts.”

“Of course.” You answer, leaning closer. Your hand goes to cup his jaw. Your palms are tinted with blood. He has gotten you all dirty. The idea of you being bathed in blood, just as he is, from just being close to him is intoxicating in a way Daemon can't yet name.

He gives you a passionate, harsh kiss. Your head sags softly, until it hits his collarbone. Daemon decides it then. He is not going back alone, not to the Bronze Bitch, not to that damn war. He will have you, one way or the other.

Daemon gathers you up in his arms, walking back to the bathing room.

“Come. We need to get cleaned up.”

You nuzzle into him, soft as a kitten. You let him take your clothes off, then his. The water in the tub is lukewarm. One of your hands comes to rub at his shoulder blades, holding a rag.

Daemon grabs your wrist and presses a soft kiss to your palm. You look at him, eyes filled with lust. You are perfect for him.

You have always been.

[blossoming-mind-palace]

PBSS! Chung Myung x GN! Reader: “Under the Saint’s Wing” (SFW)

Summary: Survival/Everyone lives AU. It’s over one hundred years after the heavenly demon has fallen, and the man who defeated him is finally trying to scout someone. He has his eye on a special teen girl, but still needs convincing. Can his partner convince him to take her in, or will he refuse to pass down his knowledge again?

Contains: Gender neutral & elderly reader. Also, just in case it isn’t clear, Chung Myung still lost his left arm.

WC: 2,360

“So, that one disciple had a kid, and this is her?” You whisper to Chung Myung. You're both perched on a branch while watching the teen girl. She's practicing her sword techniques all by herself in the pale moonlight. “Yeah,” he answers, but his intense gaze stays on the girl. It looks like he's studying her movements and taking mental notes on her mistakes. Maybe he's examining her so he can correct her movements later?

You're not sure, but he seems fixated on her and how advanced she is when compared to the other disciples. You've taken a liking to her, too. She's not only strong, but she's quiet and polite unlike most of the younger disciples. They're all wild, which is typical for their age, but Yu Iseol's calm temperament is like a breath of fresh air to you. Her company is pleasant to say the least.

“It's a shame, what happened to her dad, but you barely knew him. Why are you so fixated on her? Do you plan on teaching her or something?” You ask, and it seems like you hit the nail on the head. “Maybe…” “‘Maybe’ sounds like a yes to me!” You beam at him with a toothy grin. “Over one-hundred years, and the great Plum Blossom Sword Saint is finally taking in a student-” “Keep your voice down! She'll hear us. Besides, I haven't made up my mind and I don't want her to get her hopes up,” he says in a hushed tone while covering your mouth.

You didn't notice how loud your voice was getting, but when you look back at Yu Iseol, it seems like she still hasn't detected your presence. “Will you keep your voice down?” He whispers, and you nod. He slowly removes his hand while giving you a look that says,‘don't blow our cover or else’.

“Well, I like her, so you should take her under your wing. Poor little Baek Cheon might get jealous, though. He's been waiting for an opportunity like that since he joined,” you point out. “Ah, but I guess he isn’t so little anymore, though. If he keeps growing at his current pace, he'll be as tall as you one day. Maybe even taller,” you continue while nudging him with your elbow. He rolls his eyes and sighs,”I doubt that.”

Your attention is drawn back to her as she starts moving in a familiar way. “Her flow and execution is interesting. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” You ask in a hushed voice. “That's the Yue Maiden technique, yeah?” “Mhm… I wonder if someone taught her that or if she taught herself,” you ponder while she twists and turns in an almost perfect formation.

“I wouldn't be surprised if she did. Overall, she's not doing terrible, but her foot placement could be sturdier,” you continue. He stops analyzing Yu Iseol to look at you and point out,”If you're so interested, then why don't you take her under your wing?” “Me!? Oh no, no, no! Chung Mun said you should take in a student, and I have my eyes on one of the newbies, anyway!” You snap back and cross your arms at him.

He looks surprised when he inquires,”This is news to me. Who is it?” “Yunjong,” you state matter-of-factly. He deadpans at your reply,”The little tyke that just joined? Are you pulling my leg?” “Yeah!” “Nah, you're just saying that so I'll take Yu Iseol in,” he argues while trying to keep his voice down.

Yunjong is younger, but he seems responsible. You hope his independence didn't spawn from hardships, but he's an orphan and was in rough shape when you met him. He probably had it rough before he joined the sect. You have a feeling that supporting and mentoring will benefit the quiet kid. That being said, Chung Myung isn't entirely wrong. You've had your eye on him, but didn't plan to announce it tonight. You just needed to spill the beans so he’d stop pestering you about Yu Iseol. Now, it’s time for you to pester him back.

“You’re wrong! Yunjong may be a little shy, but he is dependable. I know he’ll make a good student… You, however, need to take in Yu Iseol,” you persist and point at him. “You're not going to stop any time soon, are you?” He grumbles and glares at you. “Nope!” You chime before standing on your shared perch.

“Maybe I should tell her about your interest right now-“ he interrupts your teasing by grabbing your leg with his right arm. “Don’t even think about it!” He accidentally raises his volume. You try to wriggle your leg free, but his grip is too tight. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything! I’m just getting up so I can go to bed. It’s getting late, so you should do the same, handsome,” You wink at him and attempt to excuse yourself. Despite being together for so many years, Chung Myun still gets flustered when you flirt with him.

His cheeks burn before exclaiming,”That’s bull shit! You think I don’t know you? You’re going to run after her as soon as- AHHH!” Chung Myung screams as he releases your leg after feeling a petite finger tap him on the shoulder. The elder shoots up and quickly snaps around to find the owner of said finger. You peek around his broad shoulders and notice little Yu Iseol somehow snuck up on the two of you. Not only that, but she managed to scare the war-hardened Chung Myung so badly that he jumped. You burst into laughter at what you just witnessed; this little girl somehow managed to scare Mount Hua’s legend shitless!

“Hahahah, fantastic job, little one! You managed to approach us undetected. That’s seriously impressive!” You approach the girl and pat her head while singing praises to her. She’s been through a lot of struggles and works hard to improve upon herself, so you feel like she deserves to be praised more. She still looks overall emotionless, but you could’ve sworn that you saw the corners of her mouth lift slightly before going back to their usual position. You catch Chung Myung glaring at you two out of the corner of your eye before he asks,”How much did you hear?”

“I heard ‘Don’t even think about it!’ And everything after that,” she answers while looking up at her elder. He sighs in relief and begins lecturing her,”Your training and sneaking are impressive, but you should be in bed, young lady!” ‘He sounds like such a grandpa!’ You think before accidentally letting out a snort. They both look at you in confusion, and you apologize,”Sorry, ignore me!” You try to put up a poker face as they return to their conversation.

There's concern in her eyes when she looks back at Chung Myung. “I’m sorry, but I need to get better. I’ll go to bed now,” she mutters before jumping out of the tree and landing gracefully on her feet like a cat. “I should follow her,” you comment before dropping out of the tree and following her. Chung Myung runs to your side as you walk off. “Why? The sect isn’t that far, she can protect herself, and this area isn’t even that dangerous,” he asks while both of you keep an eye on Yu Iseol from a distance.

”Y’know, just in case.” “Just in case? You sound like a paranoid parent!” He comments before trying to link his only arm to yours. You let him take your arm and shrug before continuing,”Okay, I’m fine with that. Becoming a parent sounds lovely.” His eyes grow wide when his head turns towards you and he replies,”Wait, are you being serious right now!?” “Perhaps.” “Perhaps!? Are you sure you’re ready for that?” He asks and he seems shocked at your replies. You guess he didn’t expect you to have that sort of attitude towards parenting, so you just calmly nod at him.

”I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” he admits as his gaze returns to the girl in front of you two. “That’s fine, I’ll wait for you,” you comment before pressing against his side and laying your head on his shoulder. He nuzzles the crown of your head before giving it a little peck, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning at the sickeningly sweet gesture. “We’d have to adopt, anyway, and I don’t know where to start with all of that. We can worry about it later,” Your sentence is interrupted by your own yawn.

”You should be in bed, youngin’,” he teases and looks at you so he can watch your reaction. “Oh? This handsome young man thinks I’m young, too? I’m flattered!” You tease back. You grin up at him and, thanks to the lovely moonlight, notice his face is turning beet red. Flustering your beloved husband will never get old. You playfully rub his arm before he continues,”Oh hush, flattering me back will get you nowhere.”

You chuckle and look forward, but notice that Yu Iseol has disappeared from the landscape in front of you two. “Hm? Where’d she go?” You ask. You’re only a minute or so away from the sect grounds, so you tell yourself that she may already be in bed. You two got distracted and slowed down, so naturally you assume that she must’ve returned to the sect grounds first. Before you can mention that, Chung Myung has already escaped your grasp and is speeding towards the younger disciples’ building. You’re on his heels when he finds her walking inside, and you see his shoulders relax when he realizes she’s okay.

You stand beside him and watch as she quietly closes the door behind her. “And I’m the paranoid one, huh?” You tease with a shit-eating grin on your face and rub his shoulder. “I’m not paranoid!” He snaps back. “Whatever you say,” you reply before grabbing his hand and making your way to your shared room. ’It’s kind of cute’, you think, ‘him being protective like that- I should stop. He said he isn’t ready yet.’ Another yawn forces itself out of you. “Let’s go to bed, youngin’,” he says before holding the door open and watching as you walk in.

-

Knock knock! “Come in!” You hear Chung Mun yell from behind the door. You open it and have a very serious-looking expression displayed as you walk in. “Chung Mun. I need talk to you about something serious, but no one else can know about our conversation. Not even Chung Myung,” you say in a hushed tone and close the door behind you. He was working before you interrupted him, but when he puts down his brush you know you've caught his full attention.

“Not even Chung Myung?” He raises a brow to the last statement. “Sounds pretty serious if not even your husband can hear about it,” he continues. You grab a chair and sit in front of his desk. You make strong eye contact with him and lean forward before announcing,”That's because what I'm about to say IS about Chung Myung!” “Are you gossiping about your own partner or are you snitching on him?” He asks and looks very confused at your behavior. Both of those would be out of character for you.

“What- no! I'm not a snitch!” You say and shake your head. Snitches get stitches, and you're too loyal to snitch on Chung Myung. You'd rather take his secrets to the grave instead of betraying him like that, and you’re sure he’d do the same for you. “I think he's trying to scout someone,” you admit, and Chung Mun's wrinkled eyes widen with shock.

He leans forward in intrigue before asking,“No way! Who?” “I caught him watching Yu Iseol train two days ago. He admitted to considering her, but I think he needs to be pushed in order to start acting on it,” you explain and this makes him softly smile at Chung Myung's growth. “It took him so many years- I mean, we're practically fossils by now, but he's finally doing it! I can't believe it!” He cheerfully exclaims. He's been waiting for so long, so he's more than ecstatic to receive this news. He has the look of a proud father on his face and leans back in his chair.

“He needs to be pushed towards teaching her, though, and I'm not sure how exactly I'll do that,” you sigh while scratching the back of your head. “Hm, maybe Tang Bo and I could drop hints the next time he visits,” he suggests and rubs his chin like he's in deep thought. “Oh, I know! He's teaching one of the young girls in his family, right? I think her name was Tang Soso. Maybe if we can get him to bring her over, he can show him what it's like to have a student, and it'll convince him to finally take Yu Iseol in!” You suggest confidently.

There's a cocky smirk on your face when you listen to him agree,”That could work… I'll start dropping hints that he should take a disciple under his wing again, you give Tang Bo a run down of the situation, and then have him show off Tang Soso in order to convince Chung Myung to start teaching. How does that sound?” After hearing this, you hold your hand out from across the desk and wait for him to grab it. He takes your hand and shakes it as you confirm,”That settles it. We'll have Yu Iseol learning from him in no time.”

You wave goodbye to Chung Mun as you exit the room, and as you walk down the hall, you see Chung Myung in the distance. You give him a totally not suspicious smile as you pass him, and there’s a concerned expression on his face. You can feel his eyes follow you as you walk away, and you’re quietly praying in your head that he isn’t already catching onto you. He knows you too well, so it wouldn’t surprise you if he did.

[wangxianficrecs]

One for Heaven and Earth by cerbykerby

One for Heaven and Earth

by cerbykerby (@cerbykerby)

T, 7k, Wangxian

Summary: An incredulous "Whoa," behind Lan Wangji yanks him out of his meditative state. He spins around fast enough for his wet hair to stick to his cheek. His eyes widen in horror. On the shore of the Cold Springs, Wei Wuxian stands, half-dressed in his own robes. He holds up Lan Wangji's heavenly robe, the fabric shining like spilled stars at midnight. "Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian breathes, a whole constellation reflecting in his eyes. "What's this? It's so—" ---------- On the night Lan Wangji's mother left, she gave him a divine robe and told him to never let anyone see or take it from him. Kay's comments: Absolutely loved this re-telling of MDZS where Lan Wangji's mother was a heavenly maiden and made heavenly robes for him and his brother. A very creative look at the backstory between Lan Wangji's parents and I love the subtle ways it affected his relationship with Wei Wuxian as well. Beautifully written too! Excerpt: The Gusu Lan forehead ribbon means self-restraint. It is not meant to be touched by anyone other than one's fated person. Only with one's fated person can one truly be free. The heavenly robe is a gift bestowed on Lan Wangji by his mother. It is a status symbol as much as it is a part of his identity. Celestial blood flows through him. The robe is proof that he is entitled to walk among the heavens as he does on earth. To steal his robe would be to deny him his birthright. To even have permission to touch his robe would be a sign of complete trust. A forehead ribbon from his father. A heavenly robe from his mother. Both hold heavy significance. Neither can be given away without careful consideration. Which, to Lan Wangji's alcohol-riddled mind, is the perfect reason why Wei Wuxian should have both items.

pov lan wangji, canon divergence, madam lan lives, lan family feels, chinese mythology & folklore, fairy tale retellings, canon compliant, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, grief/mourning, loss, angst with a happy ending, supernatural elements

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[demonslayedher]

The Taisho Secret canon content regarding The Legend of Zenitsu has unfortunately made me have to give up beloved concepts in this future!Zennezu headcanon post. Most specifically, Old Man Zenitsu's with a mustache, because Word of Gotouge says he never grews facial hair. Zenitsu is probably far more disappointed than I am about this.

But also, it has all given me a much deeper headcanon about "The Legend of Zenitsu" being a bonding experience in their marriage, for Nezuko is a big fan, like so, what with Nezuko being a willing model for Zenitsu's praise-worthy paintings.

And is my brain spinning headcanons again? Yeah.

--

Zenitsu wished he could rub it in Tanjiro's face that he got a book deal. Not on everything, just on "The Demon Slaying Arc ~Fated Encounters~," "The Heavenly Maiden Arc ~I Am Willing To Die For You~," and "The Life of the Man Who Loved The Spirit of the Plum Tree Arc." No one else deserved to know "The Tastiness of Nezuko-chan's Cooking" anyway, for Zenitsu had described it too well and it would be like sharing his wife with a bunch of slimy readers. Bad enough that he still had to share with Inosuke all the time.

But Tanjiro didn't rub it in. He smiled and made as kind a sound as even, and congratulated him.

Maybe Tanjiro had grown too mild to say or feel anything more than that.

Because Zenitsu had a publisher and small fan base, he got paid a small advance to keep writing. Not even to stop going to an office job in town, if he wanted to to keep spoiling Nezuko with nice things. The stroke to eager made him write "The Beautiful Swordswoman Nezuko Arc" in one night, but "The Golden Dragon Wandering Alone Arc ~Go And Rescue Nezuko!~" was one he slogged through. It was getting to be a handful, going to work and raising a kid living up to expectations now that people had them of him. It felt good at first, but it made the writing less fun.

His heart was hardly in it when he wrote the "Botamochi from Zenitsu Arc." The sales tanked, and Zenitsu's publisher didn't bother him when he said aside his pen for a while. It was a long while, and there were other things going on anyway.

Not long after Tanjiro died, Nezuko caught a flu that was going around. It honestly made Zenitsu a little glad to have an excuse to leave his kid with Aoi for a while so that he could have Nezuko to himself while she was contagious. He didn't need anyone's help to take care of him, because every cell down to his soul cared only about how he might pamper and comfort her.

"Nezuko-chan, come on and drink a little. It'll make your throat feel better."

"I can't. I don't want to," she moaned. Tears escaped her hopeless eyes. She still must have felt so gutted, and Zenitsu knew he could do little to fill her for the time being. Some of that hopeless look must had been from thinking she'd never be free of the headache, but at least that much he might be able to soothe.

"Why don't you rest your head on my lap for a change? Here, I'll stroke your forehead for you."

"You should sleep."

"I can do it in my sleep," he smiled to her. "Actually, did you know that the legendary hero Agatsuma Zenitsu can be even more powerful when he sleeps?"

At this, she gave him a weak smile. The first he'd seen lately. "Yes."

"It's true! It's because he can hear the sound of his wife at his side. It powers him up like lightning coming right out of his empty eye-sockets! Actually, there was one time when he blinded his enemy before the roaring sound of his power knocked him over."

"Or the sound of his snoring."

"No, no, it's thunder like it shoots right out of him! You see, it all started one night in a terrible, creepy forest, when he saw a helpless man swooped backwards into the tree tops..."

When Nezuko recovered, Zenitsu picked up his pen again, and published "Rumble of the Knock-Out Secret Swordsmanship of Zenitsu Arc ~The Legendary Man’s Eyes Shine With Light~" not long afterward. It sold decently, and it was nice to hear that he had some fans who were excited about it.

Life fell back into a new busy normal, and Zenitsu's muse was fickle. "The Potato Feudal Lord Arc" was just a passing thing for fun, not something he'd ever tell his publisher about. It was more fun for a while to try out other things, like painting. As long as Nezuko was his model, Zenitsu found he had a knack for it. He ran into Yushiro one time though, who told him he was a hack, and they got into a big argument that ended with Zenitsu throwing all his brushes and unused canvases at him and daring him to do better. Those had all cost a lot of money, so Nezuko was not happy about that. Likewise, she wasn't happy when Zenitsu refused to sell a painting of her and tore his pants while throwing a fit.

By the looks of Nezuko's ledgers, it looked like Zenitsu was stuck at that desk job, selling electricity around the little mountain foothill town. He had been there so long that he got promoted for being good at sitting in the same chair for years, and that meant moving closer to a bigger town, closer to the growing metropolis, where Zenitsu felt right at home and Nezuko assured him she would adjust.

What would Tanjiro think, now that nobody bought charcoal anymore?

The world that once had demons seemed further and further away and the droll of adulthood stretched on, and powers he couldn't behead with a swift Thunderclap and Flash fought amongst themselves. More and more, there were expectations of Zenitsu, and people depending on him. He had to assure people they would still have light and heat even as Tokyo burned, and the sound of planes rattled his ears almost daily. He was a man of his community now, and the only one his family could depend on. At Nezuko's insistence, they collected nearly-blind Kanao and his nephews and niece, and he tried to insist to Inosuke to stay with them in town where there were bomb shelters, but Inosuke, just as responsible for his own family, felt he kept them safest going deeper and deeper in to the mountains.

Nezuko knew nothing but worries. Sometimes, he almost wished she could be back to a childlike state of mind, protected from all the pain and horrors she so unfairly had to endure. In the darkness of a bomb shelter, he hugged her close as she trembled. "Say, Nezuko-chan. Do you remember that time..."

"What?"

"...that time the great hero Agatsuma Zenitsu was a teeny-tiny, but very, very strong mouse?"

He could hear her worries lift, however slightly. Maybe that was all a mouse could do.

"Actually, it was when he was a little boy. You'd never guess it, but he was very cowardly. That was a terrible warlock with a fancy red mark around his eye painted him with a magic white makeup that turned him into a mouse!"

She stifled a snort against his chest. "Uzui-san..."

"Yeah, that was the warlock's name! Did I already tell you this story before?"

"A mouse?" his son clung tighter to him, sometime he hadn't done in years. Even when he was little he always clung to Nezuko instead anyway. Zenitsu could tell by the tone of his son's voice that he was already teary-eyed and sniffly.

"Yeah. A little mouse who thought he had no power at all. That the world was too big for him. But as it turns out..."

What really hurt was Nezuko's reaction. She sighed with disappointment, and lamented that this was why he spent so many long hours away from home.

That was a story Zenitsu recorded later, as a memory of those times. It stayed on his bookcase at home next to the Potato Lord story, now that the world was quiet again.

Business picked up really well. The world got brighter, and so did the indoor lighting. As a general sense of optimism filled the world again, the small but dedicated base of "Legend of Zenitsu" fans called for a new installment. He responded well to praise, and soon gave them "The Dragon Palace Arc ~Eternal Nezuko~," but being so busy as a highly promoted seat-warmer at the office meant he had things he had to do while sitting in that seat. He put on weight again, and spent a lot of sad, long evenings stuffing cookies in his face while streaming with tears that he couldn't be eating one of Nezuko's homecooked meals instead. "Sitting In A Happy Circle and Boiling Tea in Our Bellybuttons Arc" was something he secretly wrote at his desk as a form of silent protest. His publisher rejected that one after reading only one page.

Of course! He had to be at home to write his best work! He had to be in the same space as his muse, Nezuko! Another quickly written revenge work of his, "The Future Holds Zenitsu Arc," was considered one of his better ones.

After that, he was satisfied with writing for a while, and he muse pushed him to start playing (perfectly) the piano. Nezuko was not thrilled about the piano he bought.

If only he had taught it to Nezuko, then. Her joints all bothered her, but she kept sewing out of willpower.

This new hobby inspired another novel, and Nezuko inspired another novel after that of course, and the stress of their son getting married and wanting a lavish wedding inspired another novel and another novel after that was a desperate attempt to strike it big and get out of the debt that wedding cost them. After all, Zenitsu's daughter-in-law was a cutie and he wanted to spoil her. It made Zenitsu remember how cute Nezuko was when they were newlyweds, and before that too, of course, and now too, and before he knew it he had written yet another novel, despite his dwindling fan base. Nezuko sure liked that one, though, and that was all that mattered.

The years went by. Zenitsu felt he lost his mind over how his granddaughter got cuter every time he saw her, and he eventually reached some arbitrary age when his company could only promote him to retired. Aside from the aches in his legs, he felt as young as he always did, though. Kanao said it was probably the effects of Breath technique. It sustained them without reaching a threshold at which it would be dangerous to them.

Zenitsu still wrote sometimes. He stayed busier when his busy-body grandson read the old unpublished "The Birth of Zenitsu Arc" and insisted on learning Thunder Breath. That was like a new job Zenitsu never asked for, especially since he still only knew one of the original six forms, but Kiriya sent him a letter askeing him to give it a shot, for who knew what the future held. Certainly not demons, Zenitsu was assured of that much. If Yushiro gave his novels a bad review one more time, he'd make sure of there were no more demons left in the world.

He got back in touch with Inosuke. He thought it might never happen after he abandoned the old house and charcoal mill, but the whole time, Inosuke had been on the mountain next to it, where he had always been King of the Mountain. He still took care of the house, he said. But a King still had to be King. They weren't the only people on the mountain, though. Aoi paid house calls. Still, Zenitsu gave Inosuke a stern lecture about making Nezuko (as well as Kanao) worry, so Aoi made sure to drag Inosuke into the bigger and bigger city sometimes.

Zenitsu's newest hobby to drop money on was photography, but now that he was a pensioner, Nezuko did not mind so much. She even agreed to let him fulfill his dream of taking her to Paris. He was glad he had that camera, to prove how the city could not outshine her.

He was glad he took her when he did. Her joints made it harder and harder for her to get around, even though she always smiled and insisted Zenitsu's legs must hurt more. He didn't like it when she laughed and joked around about chopping her legs off to grow new ones.

"Grandpa," his youngest granddaughter looked to him with a tearful face, "Grandma was saying something about being a demon again. I wish she'd stop that."

"I know, right!? She's a princess, and the very spirit of a plum blossom tree! A shrine maiden too!"

"There's no way someone like Grandma would ever go to hell."

He paused, and his stomach sank.

Nezuko gave up her sewing. She spent more and more time in bed, but with no desk job to sit at and a grandson taught enough that he could be told to go off and practice on his own, Zenitsu spent his days writing again. He took a long time on that novel he wrote for her, putting in all the sorts of parts he knew she liked. Sometimes he couldn't help himself and reads parts aloud to her without telling her everything else that already happened in the story. She smiled and enjoyed each fragment anyway.

"I've finally got the title for this one!" he announced. "It's called, 'I Will Be In Love With You A Thousand Years Arc.' Perfect, huh? Well, maybe it's still missing something. A million years, maybe?"

"Zenitsu-san... tell me a story..."

"I am! I'm telling you the greatest story yet! It's about this immortal princess who..."

"Tell me a real story..."

He paused and listened to her heartbeat as she took a breath--a simple, unpracticed breath in tired human lungs. Nezuko still made the same warm sound that she always did. It had a different resonance when she was a demon, and when he carried another life inside her, but it was always uniquely her.

"I want to hear... about the time you spent with my brother."

"Tanjiro? Yeah, he... hasn't been in these for a long time. Maybe I'll bring him back."

"You cared so much about him," she smiled from her futon. "That was why you protected my box, before you even met me."

"He... yeah."

"I'm glad you were such good friends... I want to hear about all those good things that happened to you. About your Ojiisan, and your little bird..."

"Yeah," he grimaced to a smile, and the inside of his nose zapped like a storm was brewing. "I had a lot of good things happen to me. A lot of bad things too."

"It's up to you to decide if you're happy or not. I hope... you'll decide you were happy."

"Yeah," he said, the snot already flowing. "The happiest. I'll tell you all about it. I'll make it my best story ever."

"You promise...?"

He kissed her forehead. "I'd never be able to come up with anything better than the truth."

[quitealotofsodapop]

I imagine the Jade Emperor is feeling very, Very Stupid for thinking Wukong's claims of needing those layers of immortality was just an excuse after he gets the report that Wukong gave birth to a healthy baby boy, literally named 'Little Heaven,' only to very nearly die in the process, something no immortal thought was even possible when they consider how many layers of stolen immortality Wukong had. Like, Wukong had the most outrageous claim that was proven true within his own throne room and by his own wife, and now he's in his personal infirmary (Queen Mother insisted after helping Wukong give birth, she gets very attached because of course she does, its MK) just barely hanging onto life. Needless to say, the trial is postponed. Macaque refuses to be separated from Wukong or their cub until Wukong wakes up, which means no mobilizing the army until Wukong is awake, especially since they've confirmed that the same restrained used to keep Wukong down all those centuries ago simply will not work with Macaque.

By all rights, that cub should have been an orphan, and it was only by the sheer audacity, stubborness, and thousands of years of work put through by his parents that he has both Wukong and Macaque to watch over him. Wukong had been right, something nobody outside of his family and friends can really comprehend.

referencing Wukong having the Century Stone Egg in the middle of Heavenly Court + Wukong getting KO'd by it.

The Jade Emperor is feeling Stupid with a capitial S.

The Queen Mother is furious with her husband for not believing Wukong's claim about his reasons for immortality, but also angry with herself for not recognising that the monkey had gone into labor in her own palace. Had she'd known centuries ago that Wukong had wanted to safely have a child, she may have been able to help him with his goal, and would have forgiven the theft of her divine Peaches far earlier.

Plus, the "Little Heaven" is the cutest little furball anyone in the palace has seen in centuries. And if the Queen Mother has been caught cooing over the little cub no bigger than her thumb, then thats her business.

Lao Tzu is monitoring and documenting *everything*; weights, movements, heart rates, blood samples, anything that could give him knowledge of Wukong and the baby's conditon, but also give insight to what he and Gold Star know about Stone Monkeys. It's like having a unicorn at a vets, he can't not be excited!

The Peach Maidens visit Wukong and the baby with prayers of health and of luck. They were the very few in Heaven that suspected their attendant brother had stolen the Peaches for reasons other than gluttony. They're all super bummed out to see him in his deep sleep, and help to change his bedding and apply medicines to give his mate and found family a break.

Macaque is a bit of a gloomy mess at this point. Jumping between a silent vigil over Wukong's sleeping body, or performing a whole shadow play for their newborn cub as a bedtime story. Xiaotian truly is a little piece of Heaven for him, and he understands fully why Wukong risked and sacrificed so much for the chance to meet them.

The reincarnation/noodle shop gang are extremely supportive during this time, finally having a chance to get to know Macaque outside of their less-than-ideal meeting. Tang keeps the shadow monkey busy by telling him stories (fact-checked by Wukong himself) of the Monkey King's journeys after the couple's last meeting. Sandy teaches him ways to relax during these rough times. And Pigsy hasn't let Mac go without a meal since he got there (how the pig got into the royal kitchen, they'll never know).

The Ao Longs are very solemn during this time too. They nearly lost Mei when her egg came early, and they're super protective of Wukong and his baby while the monkey is unconcious. Little Mei met Xiaotian for the first time a few days after he was born, and hasn't lost the enchanted look in her eyes since.

Redson acts out by head-butting any stranger that comes near Wukongs' room, including celestial guards, noblemen, servants, and even his own (unknowning) divine grandparents. He declares The Monkey King and the baby under his protection! Secretly though, he curls up to Wukong at times and whispers not to "go back to long-sleep again" since it would make his Mama and Uncle Mac sad. :(

Wukong finally wakes up after a couple of days, and is overjoyed to awaken to see him and his baby both alive and well. His "Little Heaven" truly is worth all those centuries of planning <3

[tgrailwar-zero]

So little guy, where are you from? Do you live here in the city or are you visiting?

LITTLE GUY: "We sleep in by the Port! It's foggy sometimes, but sometimes it's sunny! We were sleeping, but now we're awake!"

LITTLE GUY: "...Mm..? We're... awake?"

LITTLE GUY: "Hm... I dunno! I dunno!"

KUKULKAN: "Not as much as I'd have hoped... we can talk more once we're done."

KUKULKAN: "...Fair enough, hehe. I guess someone has to be the one to tell Rider. I'll go get the boys."

KUKULKAN: "Oh, it's probably fine! But, just in case, we'll save it for later."

LITTLE GUY: "Bye, bye!"

They waved, wandering off down the Archives.

With that decision made, you got to the fun part. Research.

The Heavenly Divinity had been summoned as a warrior during the Lunar Grail War. One of the 129.

She hadn't been summoned in this way before. An old god, in a newer form. A dragon in the form of a fox. A goddess in the form of a mortal.

Her name was T█████=M██████████.

Was. At that moment, it was.

The stories of humans had weaved together a strange tale, it seemed. But that was fine. She was quite fond of weaving, after all. Her identity was fluid, one that shifted like the water, and danced between the gates of shrines.

'Caster', her Master called her. The maiden of the Hirota Jinja Shrine, a 'Caster'. Humans had called her many names over many years, but that was a new one.

While many saw her as a Kitsune, a simple fox-spirit, this Servant was a Shinko-ō. A divine 'dragon-fox'. A daughter of the heavens. Terrifying and beautiful, she was summoned by a hopelessly hopeful master for a hopelessly hopeful cause, and fought for it with every ounce of her being.

And then, the Titan struck.

She watched as the Servants of the Moon did everything they could, and knew it wasn't enough. She had seen this Titan before. Fought this Titan before-- and knew that the boundless strength of Heroic Spirits were not enough for it. And so, as they fought, she readied herself.

The Titan could only be defeated by divinity. Divinity unchained by humanity, and free to run wild and untamed. And so, the single-tailed fox gathered power, power that she had promised to never coalesce again in another life. -

You continued reading, though it felt like you were slipping further and further into a haze.

It felt more like a conversation. Like someone was speaking to you, gently by your side. The voice, delicate and feminine, seemed to whisper in your ear.

"There's something laughable about the idea of a 'lonely god'. Gods should be worshiped. Respected. Beloved. My Master held a deep contempt for humanity. He hated their contradiction, their twisted affairs, their violent nature. But he accepted it as well, knew that their violence would lead to peace. That if there was something truly terrible in the world, their differences would be set aside, and they would be saved. He could calculate, but understanding was out of his reach. And yet in his struggle, in his constant theorizing and thrashing about, he held something beautiful. A spark. A beautiful soul. Perhaps that is why I was summoned at his side. I am your goddess. I am your God. And, my beloved people of the Solar Cell, I selfishly ask of your forgiveness. Selfishly ask for your hope. Selfishly ask for your acceptance. I cannot tell you the reason, but I selfishly ask for your sacrifice as well."

-

You eventually reached a passage that held you tight. You could feel eyes on you. Burning, yet cold. Rushing water accompanied by the sound of crackling flames. Violent, yet calming. A contradiction.

'Amaterasu'. 'A M A T E R A S U'?

That cannot be my True Name. Amaterasu is kind. Gentle. The warm rays of the sun, that satiate those that dance under her gaze.

I am violent.

I am powerful.

I am the Great Fox Spirit. The Konjiki Hakumen. The Lady of Purification. The Goddess of Mukoyama. A mere facet of the Sun.

I create life.

I shine with the heavenly bodies.

The Servant of Amaterasu Ōhirume no Mikoto. The wrath of Tenshō Daijin. The flesh of Sume-Ōmikami. I am her untamed nature made manifest.

The waters of the Lunar Sea bow to me as they purge the world of evil. The flames of the Solar Cell burn for me as they purge the world of fear.

The great Titan will be cast into the Lunar Sea, and all shall be well.

Such is the will of--

-

You heard snapping in front of you, knocking you out of your trance.

ARCHIVIST: "I don't mind you resting your eyes, but the Archives are closing. Best to get a move on, right?"

Looking down, you realized that you had stopped reading at some point, though it was difficult to tell when. The book had been clamped shut, your smoke-like, tendrils (vaguely shaped in the form of hands) clasping it tightly.