#and then comparing...... it to exercising....... and eating well......... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s3thwrit3sstuff · 4 months ago

Note

*pulls the 45 cents I have to my name out of my pocket and drops them on your table*

I can't believe my name will be forever attached to this but one (1) Kenjaku solo session with Heianera!YN portrait, please

❝ life and death will always lead to love and regret (but you have the answers, and I have the key) ❞

warnings: creepy/stalker behaviour, Kenjaku is a 'passive'-yandere (in the sense that Sukuna would and will kill him if he tried anything), manipulative behaviour, gore (detailed), Kenjaku jerking off in front of a portrait of r!, very unrequited

authors note: don't be ashamed, Gabriel. I got way too excited writing this and I think that speaks volumes on how I need to get checked, LMAO. On another note - yes, my YN's will always have a harem of men in the JJK-verse because that's what YN (and you, my dear reader) deserve!

I wrote this partially on my phone so bear with me guys...

*song on repeat: Bernadette by IAMX & Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage. * YN is described as having long hair because of the heian beauty standard (hair colour and texture not mentioned).

People often compared the years they lived as sand. The hourglass holding it is comparable to the human body. He often thought that metaphor was weak. People — humans — were not hourglasses and their years were not sand. No, no. That’s far too neat for humans.

Humans are messy. They are loud, and chaotic, they defy nature's rules and destroy her for the sake of progress. They had no balance, their compass broke when the synapses in their brains sparked conscious thought.

In that chaos, humans made curses. Or, well, you could argue it who came first but without humans and their silly consciousness — cursed spirits wouldn’t thrive.

People are flesh left under the sun. With their blood drying out, flies and maggots eagerly feast on what they can while the meat greys and rots. That’s a much more appropriate metaphor for a human life. If anything, the hourglass comparison should be used for himself. Constantly turning it over to keep going; uncaring of what kept the sands in confinement so long as it could continue its path.

Down, almost empty, flip, repeat.

Kenjaku had perfected his cursed techniques. He had earned this, he had earned his right to let his curiosities run rampant. He had earned the right to be in the presence of Sukuna Ryomen and you.

“Yuuji, you still owe me for eating my yoghurt from the fridge. It was expensive and it took so long for me to find it!” Nobara huffed. “You might as well just buy some for yourself. I’m labelling my food now.”

Megumi glanced over his shoulder at the lack of reply from the pink-haired boy. Nobara stopping next to him with her brows furrowed, sighing as she looks around for him.

“...I was just talking to myself? Seriously?” she grumbled. Megumi adjusts his grip on the bags. The grocery trips were a good team-building exercise according to Yuuji, a way to get to know each other better. Megumi and Nobara agreed after a particularly harsh mission that aimed directly at their novice team fighting experience.

So far, the results that were yielded from it were found that Nobara had an aversion to pineapples, Megumi had expensive tastes, and Yuuji was very good at budgeting money.

“No, he was right beside you a few minutes ago,” Megumi reached for his phone. Nobara placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she continued to scan the crowd.

A gaggle of businessmen came out from the underground train station and between the crowd of slicked-back hair, desperate combovers, and sweaty bald heads, she spotted him.

Tugging on Megumi’s sleeve, she pointed to him. Yuuji was standing and staring up at some sort of vertical banner. As they both approached, they shared a glance.

“Oi, Itadori,” Nobara placed a hand on his shoulder. Smacked it really. He didn’t budge. There was a dullness to his eyes that unnerved her enough to remove her hand. Megumi tightened his grip on his phone as he called out to him again. She took a look at the banner and her brows furrowed.

It was promoting an opening of someone’s private gallery. Some rich kid’s great-great-grandfather’s collection. The painting they used was of a true beauty. A man with long hair, dressed in the finest robes with a serene barely-there smile. It looked to be more European in nature, the art reminding her of the portraits of giant frilly dresses and puffy shoulder sleeves despite the obviously Japanese clothing, accessory, and manner in which the subject was regaled in the painting.

The banner must have costed a pretty penny considering how much detail they could see. Megumi could practically feel the raised textures the artist had used to mimic the pattern of the traditional robe the man wore. The flow of his hair, the texture and pattern it had; and his lashes were surely not that long in reality.

Megumi tore his gaze to Yuuji.

It was like he was in a trance. His mouth was slightly ajar, his brows furrowed and his hands shaking as his knuckles turned white.

“Itadori?”

Yuuji had long forgotten this. This ache in his chest that he sometimes woke up with. When he reaches for the empty space next to him and finds no one. Those moments in the basement when he watches a historical movie and his chest tightens as the nobles courted one another.

“Do you know the painter or something?” Nobara asks.

No, he wants to say. Not the painter. If he knew who it was that did this portrait, he’d tear their heads off their body. But the man? He knew him.

That hellish grin, that perfect face and most importantly those nightmarish eyes.

You’ve seen dolls, right? Those porcelain ones specifically. The craftsmen who make them, the expensive ones with real human hair. To be left on shelves instead of being played with. They would draw these white dots on the eyes, varnish them even, so their eyes would reflect back. A mimicry of humans, that’s what dolls are. But even then, their eyes still twinkled. Not this man. No. It was devoid of light. Pools of (eye colour) and nothing more. These eyes would swallow up any trace of light and diminish the stars from the sky with just a glance.

Yuuji knew him. His soul knew him. His hand clutches over his heart and his friends watch this with trepidation.

It’s been 2,000 years. Sukuna was no longer human and therefore his memory was not as fickle. He still remembers those moments before dawn; the sight of your bare torso breathing softly as you rested next to him. The sun filtering through the windows and making you appear even more ethereal and deadly. How your brows would pinch seconds before you woke. Those soulless eyes that shot through his very soul.

Sukuna could recognize you even if he was blind. He’d be able to hear you just by feeling your chest rumble. If he had to eat one thing for the rest of his life, your body and flesh would sustain him.

In his Malovent Shrine, whilst he sat on his throne, he’d summon his flames in his palm. There he’d watch as your figure danced across his hand. You’d twirl between his digits, a smile across your face as he watches the imitation of you.

It used to be enough. Lately, the action brings him more contempt then fondness. The flames never quite catch your shape anymore. Constantly shifting. That coyness is gone, mini-you petulantly staying hidden behind his fingers. So he snuffs you out in his fists.

He hates you for making him miss you. A King should not be missing anyone or anything. Yet, as his vessel stands here, Sukuna teeters on the edge of breaking the Unbreakable Vow he’d made with the brat just to gaze upon you.

The painter got your resemblance and it was agony for him.

How could he continue to be without you when he’s seen you again? Days ago, he wanted to kill you for making him delirious and now he wants you back in his arms.

“Itadori.” Megumi’s tone is firmer. Nobara smacks his shoulder again and Yuuji jolts forward, nearly falling until his rigid legs quickly come back to life.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright?” Megumi asks, his thumb hovering over the DIAL button of Gojo Satoru’s number. Yuuji glances at his wrinkled shirt and releases it, confusion painted across his face at the fading pain across his chest.

“I...yeah, yeah. I'm okay. I have no idea what that was....”

Rich bodies made life significantly easier.

What was that saying humans used?

Money can’t buy happiness?

Kenjaku chuckles at the thought. Foolish and vain — typical of humans. Clinging onto whatever they can to convince their egos they’re better than most when they’ll all meet the same fate. Kenjaku forgets the exact point where he stopped seeing himself as one of them, but he’s sure anyone would if you’ve lived as long as him. Apathy. Most call it a disease of selfishness. Kenjaku simply thinks they’re lying to themselves.

“Mr Geto?” the gallery was a lucrative endeavour. A piece in his grand scheme that required little effort but great rewards. More personal gain on his end.

“Mr Hajimoto mentioned you specifically in his will. The private room is all yours. Thank you so much for your donation to this fine institution of arts.” Kenjaku offers the man a polite smile and nod. The awkward silence prompts them to open the large doors and Kenjaku is greeted by you.

(Y/N) (L/N). In all your glory. In his favourite colours and his favourite kanza. The bespoke lighting on your portrait makes his hands fall limply to his side. You were a brushstroke away from taking a breath. The colours used to recreate that undertone your skin had, the delicate curves of your lashes and the plumpness of your lip.

The two guards in the corner of the room are a nuisance. But with a simple twirl of his right hand, the Slit-Mouthed Woman makes quick work of them. This curse technique was truly convenient, the mess she made cleaned up by a different curse who laps at the blood with vigor. The noises are all muffled as he admires those vicious eyes.

Just saying your name makes warmth travel down between his legs.

“I’ve almost forgotten how you look like.”

Silence ticks by for a minute.

Then Kenjaku bursts into laughter. Clutching his stomach and covering his mouth as he does. He can still smell your blood. Even if Suguru’s body had never had the pleasure of touching you — Kenjaku remembers it.

The way it flowed out of you like silk ribbons. Warm and wet and virile.

“You are an unusual sorcerer,” those were the first words you said to him. He knows you meant that in a derisive fashion — the curl of your nose was a clear indicator. But that was the day a feverish need was planted inside of his very soul.

You. You. You.

The shape of your face.

The cadence of your voice.

The way the wind carried your scent to his nose.

The sound of your cat-like foot-steps.

The effortless way you carried yourself despite the heavy robes that a revered concubine of your rank would wear, along with the golden hair accessories that would probably break a lesser man's neck.

It didn't stop there either.

Your brain, the wickedness that ran through your very veins and that fire that burns within you. Kenjaku wanted to be inside of you in every he could fathom. To sit within that perfectly shaped skull, to thread his fingers between the locks of your hair and take a scalpel to that skin he so craves to taste. Or perhaps inside in the traditional sense, between your legs, embraced by your warm insides and your deadly arms.

Kenjaku ponders on the time he has. He decides that he should indulge in you. He undoes the robes this body wore and sighs as it reveals the torso. Bodies were all the same but he does appreciate the care Geto Suguru took into his temple — there was no need for shame when he's already desecrated this corpse so viscerally already. His hands travel down his torso and that pronounce v-line and past the patch of wiry pubic hair.

You make him feel young again. Reckless and stubborn. Your eyes watch him as he leisurely spits into his palm and strokes it over the tip.

Evil is such a lame word. So primitive in its nature, another one of human's attempts at letting go of responsibility. If something or someone were evil, they were inherently irredeemable. Humans used to call snakes evil simply for doing what a snake would do when hungry, instead of realising they shouldn't have left the door to their huts opened and their sleeping brat asleep.

Was something evil when it simply did what it was meant to do?

They were simply following natures course.

This act Kenjaku is doing now, is not perverted or evil, he is simply being. Simply living, existing, relishing.

If anything, you were the undoing. The evil. You've made, and continue to make, him lose crave and hunger. You were so cruel, so ethereal — so evil.

Kenjaku groaned your name, walking backwards and dropping onto the low seat the gallery provided. His legs spread and he hung his head down but his eyes remained affixed to your painting.

"He sounds beautiful, Mr Hajimoto," the blonde painter had told him once or twice or thrice. Young but talented, the way he used his brushes on canvas was so impressive and Kenjaku missed you so much (Y/N). He simply had to spread the wickedness of your beauty, immortalize it forever within canvases and lesser non-sorcerers minds.

"Did you know him?" his accent was clunky, the Japanese language tumbling on its delicate legs following the rhythm of the painters voice. Still, he — Mr Hajimoto, Kenjaku — gave him a gentle grin.

"Very well. He was my lover."

The small notebook the painter had written your features down in, it was displayed in this very room as well. In a glass casing, handled with gloves to ensure pesky skin oils wouldn't deteriorate his inked strokes.

Speaking of strokes, Kenjaku's was beginning to pick up it's pace. His smile now looser, like an animal that caught the scent of blood, his tongue curled over his teeth as he imagined the disgust on your face. You'd probably cover your nose with the sleeve of your robe and the thought makes his cock jump; you were wearing his favourite colours and it made him moan.

The notebook was filled with sketches of you. Kenjaku recalls correcting the human, correcting him when he disrupted the harmony of your anatomy. You were the humans muse for years, (Y/N). Even as he neared his death bed, the blonde artist kept drawing you. Sketches lose, your shape less tangible, but hauntingly beautiful. Like your dark flames flowing in the wind. Even as his memories of his life escapes him, the artist remembered you. What a blessing. Kenjaku had visited him before he died and whispered your name into the old man's ear.

Sorcerer Society keeps your name hidden. It's their way of control. Making Sukuna Ryomen more monstrous by telling others he ruled coldly and cruelly alone; death was not as harsh as being erased. They say Sukuna needed 20 of his fingers and his mummified heart to be revived. That's what those poems talked about after all.

A misunderstanding.

The heart was Sukuna's, yes.

But it wouldn't revive him.

"You were so angry," he chuckled out, "so defiant even when I was inside of you."

The sky was blood red, the black smoke making the colour more saturated as it seemed intent on blotting out the sun. Uraume had felt a sudden chill, you did too, and they swiftly rose as the scent of deceit was so thick in the air.

“Uraume,” your voice remained nonchalant. But there was a tenseness in your throat that even they could decipher through the layers of regality. They turned, mouth pressed into a thin line as they went on their knees.

You continued to stare, impassively looking down at the patterned swirl of their snow-white hair. The red and black sky turning the colour of your eyes a pleasantly mournful shade; the golden kanza in your hair that your Lord Sukuna himself had commissioned for you glimmered righteously. The teeth of a beast, the curling of centipede legs, and the melded wings of a raven. It was beautiful just as much as it was unusual.

“You leave your Lord’s prized possession to fend for himself?”

Uraume lips reveal a modest amount of teeth. Their face like a porcelain doll as they raise their head. It makes your heart flutter and squeeze.

“You are stronger than these worms, they wouldn’t dare attack you.”

This is true. A fact. You were strong. 100 sorcerers or 1, 000 sorcerers — it made no difference to you. They’d turn into dust and wither right before you. But it shocks Uraume when you place your palm against their jaw, thumb stroking over their cheekbone as you gaze down at them.

“How horrid it is, making me defend myself.”

They see your eyes soften. It was no wonder you were Lord Sukuna’s concubine. Just being touched by you, looked down upon by you; it makes their spine melt.

“I should have your head for your insolence.”

Uraume apologizes, lips stilling when your thumb presses down on them.

“Return to me. Whole. My Lord Husband and I will not be pleased if you do not. We don’t want weaklings to stand behind us.”

Uraume bows, their lips kissing your knuckles as they do before they raise and disappear from your sight. The screams of terror that are heard outside at the sight of them make you slip your eyes close.

Kenjaku appeared before you what felt like hours later. He looks at the scene with a raise of his brow. Your feet were soaked in blood as bodies were strewn across the wide room. The floor was shimmering, looking as though it was breathing as it creaked from his weight. The clothes the bodies wore painted a clear enough picture — they were your servants. Loyalties were swayed as the fight prolonged. These little ants thought they could save themselves from punishment if they showed these righteous sorcerers your head.

He couldn’t smell smoke and there were no signs of charring. The bodies were mangled beyond belief, guts spilling out, eyes gouged, arms bent unnaturally.

Yet, in the gore and horror, you stood across from him with only your feet stained by traitorous blood.

You were a vision. Delicately wiping away blood from the tiger claw kanza with the sleeve of a dead servant. Then, he watches as you carefully put it back in place atop your hair.

“Kenjaku.”

He bows his head, bending at his waist, then lifts himself up again.

“The Kamo clan, your clan, joined this rebellion. I feel that should be a good enough reason to kill you.” The fire in your eyes makes his heart race. He moves forward, casually stepping over a torn torso.

“That would be unwise,” he gives you a grin. This body of his is new. The stitches are still fresh and red. Most likely a desperate attempt of his to hide away while they destroyed his old body. The corpse is younger, and more plain-looking. Despite it’s Curse Technique being a mystery, you’ll take your chances at strangling him.

“I’ve come at the behest of your Lord Husband. To ensure your longevity.”

Your brows pinch. Kenjaku delights at the creases it creates, tucking away this sight into his memories for lonely nights. Then, you scowl.

“You lie.”

His giddiness is palpable. The wide grin on the corpse’s face is clearly not his own; cheeks lifted too high and smile too large and unnatural. Kenjaku must’ve been a truly ugly man with a truly ugly grin. The body struggles to adjust to this display of amusement.

“I’m not.”

He takes a step forward and you lift your hand. The standstill would’ve lasted longer if it weren’t for the yells and thunderous footsteps clambering up to your room.

“You lie!”

Dark flames roared out from the windows. The heat so smoldering it causes a burst of hot air to knock back the men on the stairs, burning their skin and face. The blood on the floor boils, the iron scent now more acidic as the once fleshy bodies now crumble into dust.

You feel his breathe against the nape of your neck. As you turn, he wrings his arms around you like a snake. One across your stomach, the other around your shoulder. That horrible smile is pressed against your skin.

“Kenjaku,” you growl through gritted teeth.

“That’s right. Say my name.”

Fighting feels a lot like sex.

Kenjaku can feel your passion behind every strike, the bruises you leave behind on his skin are akin to hickeys. When you yell out and scream, cheeks so hot he can feel the rush of blood to your face just from looking — the rapid pulse you have and the way your face is contorted.

Kenjaku pins you down. Your legs are thrown over his own while you gnash your teeth at him and spit insults his way. Your hair was so beautiful, thrown back around your head like a lion’s mane. He slides your wrists above your head and holds them with one hand while the other undoes the meticulous array of folds your kimono had.

Sweat drips down his nose. It’s all your fault. Using your Curse Technique in this room, charring the wood and setting it all aflame. Still, he could work in this conditions.

“Ah,” he moans at the sight of your bare skin. Watching the rise and fall of your chest, licking his lips as he places a hand over your heart.

When you kick at his stomach, he acts like he cannot feel it. When you kick again, this time hard enough for a loud crack to be heard, he looks at you.

“If you kill me, you will break the Binding Vow you and Ryomen had made with me.”

He feels your feet dig into his rib, the spiderwebs of cracks spreading further. He allows this with a pleased hum. Your ragged breathing all at once calms and with a blink, your eyes lose that unbridled fury.

“You dare say my Lord’s name so casually?”

Kenjaku laughs. As he leans down, he presses his forehead to yours. Your nose curls in disgust but you keep your lips pursed. The feeling of his sweat sliding down the sides of your forehead and dipping to travel the side of your nose; threatening to get into your eyes as it slips just beneath it.

“Forgive me, venerable concubine.” Kenjaku does not mean this. When he presses his fingers together and imbues his hand with Curse Energy. He enjoys it.

Slicing through your skin at a pace that made the cut more ghastly then it would be if it was done quickly. You remained stone-faced while Kenjaku chewed on his lower lip, every twitch or squint just fueling his hunger.

He is past your skin and now he sees the yellow, when he twists his wrist you grunt as he slices through the threads of muscles. He spreads his fingers and your teeth part as you let out a strained yell.

"You can be louder if you want," his lips brush against your cheek every time he speaks.

"When I return, I'll take pleasure in ripping your head off your body."

"Threatening me?"

He reaches bone. His finger scratching against it before he peels away and settles between your legs. Your hands aren't pinned but you do nothing but curl your fingers into fists as he shoves another hand into your chest. The squelching and pulsing of your flesh, the bursts of blood from your throbbing veins and pumping heart. The wetness and warmth of your insides. He can feel your body clenching around him, and he convinces himself its because you truly enjoy this depravity just as he does.

The size of his hands in your chest is unbearably uncomfortable. Invading you, filling you when you want nothing more than to burn him, as he moves his digits and wrists within you.

He grasps onto your bones and breaks it under the pressure of his wrist. Your blood is spraying him, staining his clothes.

"Your blood looks like ribbons," he whispers to you, "even your insides are like works of art."

You want this to be over with already.

Your arms move down, eyes still set in a glare. You slip your fingers under the soaked clothing and spread it apart further to reveal more of your skin. Shimmying your shoulders so your torso is now bare of any clothing.

The tent between his legs pressed into your crotch. It's hard to ignore, but you push through and grasp onto his elbow and force him to go in deeper.

"Promising you."

Kenjaku's elbow straightens sharply and he moans as he feels your heart beating in his palm. He pulls it out of your body, panting as your eyes slip close and your heart slows. Beating slowly...slowly...slowly...

Kenjaku moans at the memory of your heart in his hands. Your warm blood coating his skin, drying under his nails and crackling in the creases of his joints.

"I wanted to keep you on me forever," he grunts out as his pace gets faster. "The smell of you, of your flesh."

"I didn't need your body, but it was too beautiful not to be admired."

Kenjaku throws his head back, placing his palm across his nose and lips as he sifts through his memories so he can conjure it all over again.

The painting watches on impassively. The croons and purrs of Geto Suguru's cursed spirits echo faintly in Kenjaku's ears while his hips thrusts into his own fist. It's desperate. He usually isn't like this. Even when he was creating the Death Womb Paintings — even when his plans are so close to coming into fruition.

You make him like this. Make him lose control, every thought poisoned with you even when you're nothing more than a mummified heart hidden so desperately away by Sorcerer Society.

"I've gotten a lead," Uraume had informed him just a few days ago. "They've hidden him in the ocean in an underwater research facility."

"Underwater, hah, they think it'll keep your flames contained. Keep your loyal servant away as if the depths of the ocean is enough to scare them, us — Oh, (Y/N)."

His fist stops and Kenjaku stands, removing his clothing fully as he places a hand against the wall of the gallery. The textured wall, the grooves, give way to his nails as he digs them in. He stares into your eyes, imagining the crease of your furrowed brow and Kenjaku groans out your name as he cums all over the wall.

"...Oh, I can't wait to see you again, venerable concubine."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #sukuna ryomen x male reader #kenjaku x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader

216 notes · View notes

mellozheist · 6 months ago

Note

Heya!

Questions. Is your Grian design smol? Any projects?

Have you been practicing self care

Yes My Grian is quite small especially compared to other hermits

I do have 13 minutes of fan animatic for a song I want to make but I've been procrastinating lol (50% of the storyboard is done )

I also want to make the original short animation film but I haven't chosen the idea yet

currently making more Tanuki Joel animatic

have a character ref

and yes I've been doing my best to do selfcare, my mental health has been better than many years ago, and I've been eating well and sleeping enough

I probably should exercise more xD

Thank you for asking!

#askmelloz #MellozH art

269 notes · View notes

writteninlunarlight-years · 5 months ago

Text

This is a lovely commission from a moon of mine. They wish to be anonymous, but I do have a brief description of the headcanons. I would like their reactions to finding out their s/o is self-harming, how they would try to help them day to day, and what new coping strategies they would suggest/get them to try. I'd like this with Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox. Romantic Lucifer, Alastor & Vox caring for Reader

TW: SELF-HARM MENTIONED, COPING SKILLS (These may not work for everyone), ANGST/FLUFF

Lucifer:

When Lucifer found you that day, he was devastated. You were so frail and small in his arms, and it hurt his soul.

He cleaned you up carefully and bandaged all your wounds. Holding you close to his chest, telling you how much you mean to him.

It was common knowledge to everyone how much he cared for you and how he compared you to the angels in heaven themselves.

He didn't leave your side for weeks, helping you through every emotion and thought that crossed your mind.

He was honestly a little overbearing, making you feel worse that he was dedicating his whole life to you.

When you brought this up with him, he calmed down on the clinginess but still routinely checked up on you.

He enlisted Charlie and Vaggie, two of the people he trusted most in the world next to you, to find better ways to help you avoid reverting to harm.

He took the learned material seriously and began helping you set up healthy routines again slowly.

He helped you with big tasks that felt way too much at the time while still giving you the independence you needed.

He made sure you two went on 'hot girl walks' once a day to help you get more vitamin D.

He conjured a whole gym area for you in the hotel after learning the endorphins in exercise would help.

If you ever had a dark day or a bad event, he would re-cling himself to you.

Even if you protested, he was right there, ready to go and assist you.

He told you daily how much he loved and cared for you and helped remind you how needed you are in this realm.

Alastor:

Alastor rarely felt broken in his human or demon life. Not often did anything shake him to his core.

The day he found you, though, near death and fading, he was a broken man indeed.

You were not allowed to leave his arms no matter how hard Charlie or other inhabitants asked him to let you be looked at by another.

He had years of wound care experience, so he took to cleaning and tending to you.

Was it mentioned that he was in complete demon form the whole time? Well, he was, and he was so angry at the world but so gentle with you.

He wasn't as clingy as Lucifer; instead, he was a silent observer, only coming when asked.

He refused to let you out of his sight, though, making sure that if you weren't physically with him, his shadow was nearby.

He basically destroyed your room by looking for anymore harmful objects. He made up for it, though, by getting you brand-new everything.

"A brand new you is refreshing, my love letting go of the bad.'

He helped you dye and cut your hair when you decided to go with the whole new me look.

He took your eating habits to heart and ensured you had three meals a day, all prepared by him.

Good nutrients would significantly improve your mental health and give you more energy and stamina.

Every morning, when he woke by your side, he would remind you, "You are never fully dressed without a smile, my love."

Vox:

Vox is a big baby on almost anything, especially when things don't go his way or play out how he expects them to.

He never expected to be serious and somber about anything detrimental until he found you that day.

He was terrified of losing you, and his immediate reaction was to hold you close and get you to a hospital.

Man has every tech device in Pentagram City, but he knew what you needed was far beyond his scammy gizmos and gadgets.

Once in the hospital, he was pacing the room, wearing a grove into the floor.

Once you were cleared and ready to go home, he asked you simple fundamental questions, ranging from a simple "why" to a more in-depth "How can I help you?"

He knew that when you answered in shrugs and 'I don't know,' he would have to do the grunt work to help his love.

He talked to doctor after doctor and scoured the web to find all the best remedies to help you.

He took up yoga with you, and right after yoga ended, he would sit with you in a warm bath and talk about what you thought.

When you fully started opening up to him about the dark thoughts clouding your brain, he was already prepared to help.

He helped you cleanse your social media and even recommended good, worthy shows to distract you from your thoughts.

Vox loved you more than life itself and couldn't imagine a world without you in it.

He made sure every day you knew that you would look in the mirror at him lovingly holding you and remind yourself of that, too.

297 notes · View notes

malusokay · 1 year ago

Text

How to be like Jang Wonyoung

As many of you requested, part 2 of my it girls series is all about Jang Wonyeong, who's not only absolutely STUNNING, but also incredibly talented, hardworking, and of course successful. Let's get right into it!! <33

Wonyoungs Energy:

Wonyoung is incredibly charismatic, which makes her stand out without even trying!!

She has a bubbly and likeable Personality, Wonyoung appears happy and welcoming, she easily lights up a room with just her presence.

Aside from being cute and cheerful, Wonyoung is also known for being extremely hardworking!!

Confident and Unbothered. Despite receiving quite a bit of unnecessary hate, Wonyoung stays indifferent and true to herself!!

Elegant and feminine. No one does the ‘Elegant feminine self-love girly’ aesthetic like her, she is THE girly girl!! <3

Mindset:

Learn to deal with jealousy, Wonyoung gets plenty of hate, but let's be real for a second… we all know that is because of jealousy. Pretty, successful, smart, and popular? Of course, people will be jealous!!

“While practising self-love, you see good and pretty things about yourself. If I focus only on those things, I don't need to pay much attention to the criticism.”

Don't compare yourself to others “You are you, I am me”.

Keep to yourself. Stop telling people your ideas, your dreams and how you plan to archive them, your goals etc. Let your actions speak for themself!! <3

No more negative self-talk!!

Be your number 1 priority!! Take care of yourself, do what's good for you, eat well, care for your body, skincare, haircare, and your education!! PRIORITIES

Skincare

Skincare. Wonyoung has Flawless skin, finding a skincare routine that works for you can help you archive similar results!!

Wonyoungs skincare routine:

According to Google, Wonyoung only uses Innisfree products and starts by double cleansing her face, for that, she uses the Green Tea Cleansing Oil ($24), and the Green Tea Amino Acid Face Cleanser ($12)

To get the dewy class skin effect, hydration is key!! In the morning, Wonyoung likes using the Green Tea Hyaluronic Acid Serum ($30) and the Dewy Glow Tone-up Cream ($26)

Of course, you can't forget SPF. Wonyoung uses the Mild Cica Sunscreen Tone-Up SPF 50+ PA ++++, which is also great for acne-prone and sensitive skin types!! :)

For her night routine, she likes the Retinol Cica Moisture Recovery Serum ($37) and the Dewy Glow Jelly Cream ($26).

Elevate your daily life:

Healthy diet. Eating nutritious and healthy food is the first and most important step to clear skin and an overall good feeling!! Make sure to eat enough protein (ex. yoghurt, chicken, tofu or eggs), lots of fruits and veggies, and healthy fats (ex. Avocados, fish, nuts, olive oil)!!

Exercise daily. Besides dancing, Wonyoung loves pilates!! You can find lots of great Pilates videos on YouTube!!

Work on your posture!! Having good posture will not only make you feel better but also lets you appear more confident, elegant and put together. Try daily stretching and exercises to improve it <3

Try establishing a proper morning and night routine, this can help you stay structured and relaxed even on more messy and busy days.

Content that makes you feel better!! Start watching channels like thewizardliz, vogue beauty secrets, and read motivating blogs. (like mine lol <3)

Makeup:

Wonyoung is known for her iconic glittery and feminine make-up!!

Light pink blush, plump lips, glowy skin and a glittery but not too heavy eye look.

Foundation on the centre of your face and blend outwards for a naturally contoured look.

Always apply your matt products before your shimmers, that way, your makeup looks cleaner!! Also, apply your glitters from finest to chunkiest. :)

Don't apply your shimmers/glitters past the middle of your eyelid to avoid looking puffy.

If you have warm-toned skin, go for peachy glitters, for cool-toned skin, choose a champagne-coloured one.

If your struggle with dark under eyes, blend your concealer with your fingers!! This will give it a lot more coverage.

You can find lots of tutorials on Wonyoung-inspired make-up on YouTube, this one is my favourite.

I hope this little guide was helpful, I wasn't too familiar with Wonyoung, but I did some research since she was the number 1 most requested person for this!! :)

As always, please feel free to share your own suggestions in the comments and let me know who you want me to write about next! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

#malusokay #girl blogger #aesthetic #coquette #dream girl #it girl #pink blog #that girl #pinterest #pink pilates princess #wonyoung #jang wonyoung #ive wonyoung #miu miu #glow up #girl blogging #girly things #beautytips

1K notes · View notes

mentos-or-mentoes · 4 months ago

Note

Hihi Pooks, I love your writing and was wondering if you would write for a Mitsuri!reader, like a reader who looks quite weak (IS FEMALE as mitsuri is a female) but is INSANELY strong and quite flexible (which breaks the stereotype of ‘women aren’t strong’). (Helluva boss x Mitsuri!reader) reader who can eat LOADS while staying fit bc yk she’s strong and exercises regularly but could definitely rival a sin with her strength and probably could do some magic with the ‘power of love’ typa shit

yes I mean Mitsuri from demon slayer.

Sorry it took me so long to do this! I had to move, then completely forgot I had a tumblr blog. And now after somewhat of a midlife crisis I have just realized that I infact DO have a tumblr blog. So ye, I apologise for keeping you waiting for so long

I.M.P & Stolas x Mitsuri!reader

Blitzo

First of all, this dude thinks your strength is HOT (take that however you want).

He thinks you're kind, yet knows that if you really wanted to, you could probably beat Lucifer himself in a fight.

Blitzo definetly can, will and has fucked around with your whip-like nichirin sword, but will stop the second you tell him to, well if its serious, if not then he'll keep goofing around untill he manages to destroy something.

He once walked in on you eating what can only be described as a 3 course meal that would be served at a thanksgiving dinner. He is both surprised, and horrified once he finds out that it is the normal amount of food for you because of your extremem muscle density.

Once tried to challenge you to an arm wrestle match just to see how he could compare, and that day he found out that you had an absolutely insane physical strength after winning with just your pinky finger. He will do everything to hide that fact

He has definetly said some stupid threat like ''My grilfriend will beat *hiccup* your ass if I *hiccup* don't'' to someone in a bar while drunk

Moxxie

Being the most realistic out of all of the employees at I.M.P, Moxxie is outright terrified of your strength.

He can and will try to keep you happy, already wanting to hide in fear at just the thought of you having a bad day.

No matter how much you re-assure him, its gonna take a while before he actually begins to think you wont kill someone whenever you feel angry.

He thinks its both impressive and weird how that you can eat so much food without even gaining as much as a miligram. He won't comment on that tho.

He is very curious as to how your weapon works. Y'know since its metal, yet can be used as a whip.

Millie

She thinks your weapon is incredibly cool, and encourages you to use it more often.

She's asked you about how well you think you'd do with other weapons as well.

Either way will still love you, regardless of your choice of weapon <3

You two are a power couple and you can't convince me otherwise (two strong women who can and will kick the ass of anyone who disrespects them in any way, shape or form).

She loves your power of love magic, especially because part of her thinks it becomes stronger with the love you two have for eachother

Loona

This legit feels like the fandom classic of shipping the two characters who are the exact opposite.

She secretly really loves your whole power of love thing, even if she says otherwise.

Has probably jokingly asked you to punch Blitzo one time because he really annoyed her.

She will blush MADLY if you decide to pick her up and just carry her around, but if its in private, she won't complain.

She loves seeing you use your strength in combat.

Stolas

Like Moxxie, Stolas is scared as fuck.

He can and will do EVERYTHING to avoid you when you're angry.

You can convince him, that you're not going to hurt him. But the last thing Stolas is trying to do is becoming bbq chicken because he decided to approach you while you were angry, so no risks

He likes how strong you are, makes him feel safe. Mostly because you'll kick the ass of anyone who dares try to hurt him.

He was surprised when your power of love wasn't some sort of magic to make others fall in love, but is quite literally love turned into raw power.

This 100% isn't worth the wait, sorry it took me so long. But hope it was, somewhat decent, am willing to do a part 2 tho

#helluva boss x reader #helluva boss blitzo x reader #helluva boss moxxie x reader #helluva boss millie x reader #helluva boss loona x reader #helluva boss stolas x reader #blitzo x reader #moxxie x reader #loona x reader #stolas x reader

142 notes · View notes

peppermint-monster · 5 months ago

Text

Rengoku Kyojuro. X Chubby Reader!

Warning: Dirty Talk, Handjob (solo), Petname (Little Flame), Fingering (Female Receiving), Spanking, Caught, Oral sex (female receiving), Rengoku being a tease. Basically, NSFW. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, be mindful that I didn't really mention much of the reader's appearance (besides, she's a female) since I wanted to keep it vague for everyone to relate as much as possible, though it is definitely for the more voluptuous side of ladies. 😊

Please be mindful that the photos are not mine, but the making of the collage is.

MINORS DNI!!!! 🔞🙅🏻‍♀️If you're not comfortable with this, please ignore!

Rengoku X Chubby Reader!

Rengoku Kyojuro was definitely the golden retriever to her black cat; he was radiant, positive, and motivated compared to her aggravated, gloomy, apathetic demeanor. In all honesty, he was odd. Nonetheless, he was her master, and she was his apprentice, someone she admired and looked up to but secretly craved.

He was the sweetest man she had ever met.

Treating her so well that he made up numerous training exercises that were much easier for her, also allowing her to train graciously by his side, whipping her into proper shape. Though being a Demon slayer was no easy task, it was mentally and physically draining, often leaving her body sore and her fingers cut with callousness. Afterward, as a celebration, he would take her to eat, saying his signature phrase, “Umai!”

His unexpected, amusing outburst caused her to discreetly smile at herself while taking a bite of her rice.

When he finally took her to her first mission, Master Ren~ was there every step of the way. He supported her in every way until the demon they were hunting got the upper hand, catching her off guard. The demon was about to strike her, but a sudden thump seemed to pause that.

That thing was the demon's dismembered hand, which caused them to scream in anguish. She was so caught up in thinking about what her mentor had done that she didn't notice him moving in front of her in a battle stance. “Don't worry, I got this.”

Okay, so…her first mission wasn't the best. She even apologized for almost getting them both killed, bowing over with her face heating up in embarrassment and tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“You’re right. That was reckless of you, but it was also irresponsible of me to think you were ready.”

“I'm sorry.” She failed her Master's.

“But with how things could have gone, I could say you did better than expected, and that counts.” He sighed, placing his hand on her head and patting it.

Why was he so nice to her when he should be lashing out? She doesn't get it but can't help her heart from beating fast.

Despite her reluctance, they are now at Butterfly Manor, per her master's directive. Miss Shinobu insists that she be confined to bed rest for days to recuperate and avoid overworking, while her mentor has gone on a solo expedition, leaving her feeling disheartened.

Thanks to the help of the sweet caterpillar triplets, she was able to heal correctly, much to her relief. With such happiness, she wanted to get back on track and improve her training with her mentor.

For that to happen, she needed to let him know she was okay.

Despite being under house arrest and having only seen Master Rengoku once, she couldn't resist the urge to visit him upon learning of his return. Even though she knew it was wrong, she sneaked through the dark corridors and stood directly in front of his chamber.

With nerves building up inside, she lightly knocks on the sliding door.

Knock

A moment passed of dead silence. No noise coming from the inside can be heard.

Feeling intrusive and not wanting to bother the man, she turns to walk away but stops mid-step when she hears faint sounds coming from his room. Overthinking the worst and believing Rengoku had been injured during his assignment or had perhaps drawn an intruder his way, she bursts through the sliding door, expecting to see her mentor hurt and struggling to bandage himself up or someone ready to strike.

Instead, she was met with his arms, keeping his upper body upward as he lay, there the gracious Flame Pillar himself, Rengoku Kyojuro, was in bed, desperately stroking his heaving member.

In disarray, the iconic uniform worn by all Demon Slayer members was noticeably absent. Instead, leaving him draped in a robe, slightly ajar, with his majestic naked body fully exposed.

Unveiling every scar she’d fantasized about feeling, running her hands down his chest and to his leaking member- though back to this embarrassing encounter.

Her lips parted, and a gasp escaped before she could contain it, expressing her surprise.

Catching the lustful gaze of her dearest mentor.

"I-I'm sorry," she blurted out before she could stop herself once again.

Before she could allow Rengoku to cover himself fully, she turned around and dashed out of the room. However, she barely made it a few steps before the baggy pajama pants she was provided caused her to trip and fall to the floor, further embarrassing her.

“Ow..” She mewled, rubbing her forehead while sitting in a W position.

Unfortunately, the situation has taken a turn for the worse.

"It seems that we've caught someone trying to sneak a peek into things they shouldn't be."

A harsh voice looming over her sent a shudder down her spine.

Her breath seized as she saw her dream guy; his formerly spiked-up hair was now unkempt, with bangs falling low and obscuring those fiery eyes that used to stare into her soul, now appeared to be undressing her with his sinful gaze and faint smile he always seems to wear.

Trailing her gaze more down, she saw his robe was still unfastened, exposing his well-built body. Continuing lower down his happy trail, Rengoku appeared to have some dignity by putting on a fundoshi, much to her relief and dismay.

The moment that sliding door closed, Kyojur was at his wit’s end.

He treats his curvy apprentice like the goddess she is, worshiping her mind, body, and soul and never once treating her anything lower than that standard. However, being the man who must train her so she could someday become a Demon Slayer has its moments where he has to be tough and rough with her so that she won't get killed if a scenario were to come.

Much to his dismay, it just happened days ago with that infuriating Demon. He expected much better from her but was caught off guard and almost killed in front of him. If Kyojuro didn't interfere, he was certain his beloved flame would have died.

So when the opportunity came to protect her, he took it, forcing her into house arrest to “Heal.” Even then, he couldn't handle that and went on a mission to distract himself from what had happened.

But even that couldn't help him.

The metaphorical leash he’s tightly held was slowly loosening from his grip.

“You are in serious trouble.” Kyojuro’s hands roughly grabbed her ass, kneading a handful of her cloth skin as he could fester, making her whimper.

“Such a bad girl, my sweet flame.”

“Whatever.” She huffed out, rolling her eyes. “It’s not my fault. I knocked multiple times, but no response.”

Kyojuro was irritated and annoyed by her sassy behavior, and he needed to take a deep breath and not let his intrusive thoughts get the best of him.

She backs away from the tall man, trying to walk away from him, but is stopped by a big, surprisingly warm, rough hand that grabs hold of the back of her neck, bringing her close. She let out a gasp, and then he took full advantage by slamming his lips down on hers.

Her arms instinctively pressed against his nude chest as her heart beat loudly on her own.

“Such lies your speaking.” He mumbles against her, grabbing her hair and pulling her head to the side to give him access to her neck.

As though sensing her need to defend herself, Kyojuro kissed her again, still hungry and desperate but more gentle than before.

“Admit it, you're a voyeur.” He whispers in her ear with a sly grin.

"What!" She whisper-shouts, her cheeks burning from shock and humiliation.

He shifts his hand from her neck to her waist, drawing her in against him while he pushes them back and toward the bed's edge. This causes her to fall back onto the bed, with one arm supporting her while Kyojuro leans over her.

She looked up at him with those dough eyes and plump lips sinking between her teeth.

That’s it, Kyojuro finally snaps.

Finally, he let go of the subconscious leash, liberating himself from the subconscious restraints.

Bringing himself forward, Kyojuro sat at the edge of his bed and took hold of one of his beautiful flame’s ankles, bringing her close to the edge of the bed to undo her pajama pants and pull them down her legs.

He took a sudden deep breath, feeling his breath catch at the astonishing sight before him.

“You’ve been naughty, my sweet blaze.” Kyojuro guided her to stand before him, resting his hands on her waist to keep her still. She rested her hands on his shoulders while staring in a longing gaze.

“I think you need a punishment.”

His hand firmly comes down against the curve of her ass, and she gasps at the contact—a slap ringing through the room.

“One!”

He smirked at her reaction, seemingly satisfied at the dark handprint quickly revealing on her skin.

“Keep count for me, k?” He softly caressed her ass with his other hand while grinning and repositioning the one that was holding her hands behind her back.

Before she could say a sentence, his free hand roughly met her ass again. The full force of his strength struck her left ass cheek more aggressively than she anticipated leaving her crying out.

“Two!”

Another slap landed on her other cheek, slightly lighter than the first two but still hard enough to take her breath away and anticipate more.

“T-Three.” She hesitated for a moment, nearly losing track of the count, but she quickly regained composure before her devoted master could take further action.

Another slap landed on her ass.

Then another.

And another.

There was a brief pause, Kyojuro letting go of her restrained hand while also allowing the throbbing soft flesh of her ass to have a break from its punishment. Rubbing a hand over the darker shade he had left, feeling the warmth it brought and much more.

“What’s this?”

Seeming to notice between her spread buttocks was a damp patch on the front of her panties. Dawning on him that his curvy beauty was getting off on this.

“You like this?” He murmurs under his breath.

Curiously, Kyojuro slips her panties halfway down her legs, caught between her lower thighs, his thick, calloused fingers spreading her folds. It's sinful how hot her wet heat is; squelching noises filled the room. “Should’ve known you'd be like this since you're a voyeur.” He chuckles to himself.

Shudders of embarrassment ran through her body. She squirmed on Kyojuro's lap and buried her flushed face in the mattress, muffling her whimpers and soft moans.

“K-Kyo…”

Yet he was stronger than her, keeping her in place as he slapped her cunt. Making her arch her back as she cries out.

His fingers bully their way inside her, and Kyojuro chuckles, feeling how her gummy walls immediately tighten around him.

Leaning down to face his sweet, precious flame, he whispered in her ear, “Looking for something bigger? Hmph~ You’ll take what I give you, whore.”

She tilted her head to the side, looking at his radiant gaze. Lust could be seen through his lidded gazes.

Scissoring her warm heat, her juice splashed with every deep thrust dripping down her thighs and to the ground.

“Ooooo~” Her mouth formed an "O" as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Her legs trembled while she pitifully tried to hump his fingers.

“Gonna cum?” He hummed against her.

“Ugh, yessss…”

At the edge of her orgasm, about to cum so beautifully around his thick fingers, which were speeding up and sloppily beating her g spot, Kyojuro pulled his fingers out and rubbed her lower lips before he slapped her throbbing clit for good measure. Standing up and off the bed, he removed himself from his sweet, curvy beauty, quickly wanting to get rid of his undergarments.

Revealing his once again long and hard cock, springing free and in his hand, moved down to give himself much-needed friction pulling on the heaving rod.

She whines, throwing a tantrum under his gaze.

“How dare you! This is so not fair!” She pants out. Pouting at the sight of her master stroking himself in front of her, making her feel ever so desperate and needy, her warm heat once again feeling tingly and in want to finally cum.

That her right hand slowly started to make its way down to her throbbing clit, but the Flame Hashira was fast enough to grab her once again ankle and bring them upward, sliding her legs apart, keeping a firm hold on her parted thighs, and he brought his body forward and between her legs.

His sharp stare kept her in a trance.

“Don't you dare touch yourself unless I tell you to,” He growled lowly and demanded as she gasped from the sudden sensation of the tip of his member probing at her slick entrance.

She bit her lip to keep herself from moving her hips, shuddering at the restrained.

“Do I make myself clear?” He fixed his gaze, concentrating intensely on the sweet flame in his hands.

She quickly nodded her head. At this point, she couldn't go against him as much as she wanted to fight against him. She was willing to go along with whatever he wanted just to feel her sweet release.

But against her better judgment, her hips disobeyed her and moved against her will. Moving against him, his tip slid along her slick folds. One of his hands quickly went down to her doughy hip, pinning it down as he furrowed his eyebrows, his mouth hanging slightly as he inhaled sharply.

“You’re so despicable. Such a needy little slut that can't stop herself. Just want me to lay everything down and just slam my dick inside you, huh? Have your juice all over me, hmmm?”

It was only for a moment, just a moment, that he allowed himself the pleasure of his tip dragging along her throbbing bud as he spoke those sinful words to her as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Though only for a moment.

“But you don't deserve that. This is a punishment, after all.” That set her off, whimpering for him to continue, edging him on to continue dragging his length along her, but she was stopped by the tightly held hand on her soft hip.

Rengoku quickly yet dreadfully pulls himself off her before going down on his knees, bringing her lower half to hang off the bed and onto his shoulder and his hot breath hitting her core.

Suddenly, sniffing noises emerged from the room, shyly having the curvy beauty cover her face in embarrassment.

“You smell sweet~,” He says before placing a hand on the top of her lower stomach and the other spreading her lower fold, allowing him to kiss her pussy, causing her to whine.

“No…” She timidly sought to encourage him to move away from her lower half, reaching for his shoulder in an effort to pull him away, but he remained stubborn.

Licking her pussy and sucking on her folds, causing her to cry out and squirm under his grasp. Instantly bring her thighs together to ease the bliss she was feeling.

"Nah-huh" He fumbles to speak, too preoccupied with covering her cunt and repeatedly creating the number eight on her delicate clit, all the while firmly placing a hand over her thigh to keep them apart.

The feeling of his warm breath hitting her core and his tongue making swirls around her clit before slipping past her slick fold was a feeling she had never felt before, making her hands move to his hair, holding onto the spiky strands for her dear life.

That was his cue to nip at her delicate fold, for always trying to break him apart from his feast, causing her to let out another lewd moan.

Each touch has her gasping and her inside clenching around nothing as her legs begin to shake from the sweet torment. His strong hands on her body felt as if she was on fire as she tried to grind down against his lips, but his grip only tightened around her doughy thighs, sinking deeper into the soft flesh, and her sweet moans only seemed to grow loud at the sight of his biceps flexing.

Instinctively bringing a hand behind her to clutch onto the sheet as continuous kitten licks and sudden sloppy kisses on her pussy sent her feeling once again her sweet edge as the knot formed in her stomach and her back began to arch, catching Rengoku’s fiery stare.

While all this was happening, not once did he allow himself the pleasure of touching himself. legs knees under him with his thighs spread wide, visibly showing his weeping hard-on.

The throbbing flesh was hot to the touch, ready and dripping with pre as it twitched with every thrilling pretest and moan she dared muster in an attempt to run away from him.

He waited for the right time. The right moment to finally give the heaving rod a few strokes right as she was about to cum, wanting them both to climax at the same time.

He smears his pre around the head, encouraging him to continue around the length and down to the base.

Kyojuro slowly stroked himself, following the same rhythm he had set with his greedy mouth. Imagining his cock being the actual one doing these things. His stroke became pumps, sweeping his thumb over the tip, swallowing her with his heated eyes as she watched him intently, barely blinking.

Groans escaped his already parted lips, deep and clear rumbling through her lower half.

He was on the verge of his release as he squeezed his tip. He could feel her shuddering on his shoulder, and he used it as a sign to pick up on his rhythm for both him and her.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna…” In a moment of desperation, she lets out a weak cry, her eyes half-closed and rolling back as she runs her fingers through his hair. In her agitation, she tugs at his hair as she reaches her breaking point.

Milliseconds before Kyojuro moaned out loud.

He shot ropes of hot cum onto the ground, momentarily closing his eyes and losing himself devouring the sweetest juice he ever tasted.

Finally, after minutes had passed, the pounding in her head made her hyper-aware of his breathing, so shallow and deeper than she ever heard it.

Pulling away and resting her lovingly on the bed, Kyojuro stood from the ground. Pins and needles ran through his legs, yet he didn't seem to care. Finally allowing himself to open his eyes, he stared at the beautiful beauty he towered over, pupils dilated and plump lips enticing, all spread out on the bed with only her pajama shirt on.

He was the first to move before she could lean up to kiss him. Crawling into bed and hovering over her with his arms supporting his weight on either side of her head, he leaned down and kissed her.

His captivating kiss carried the familiar taste of her, drawing her close to him by the neck, molding her into putty in his hands.

#x plus size reader #fanfiction smut #chubby reader #plus size reader!#anime x chubby reader #rengoku x reader #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer x chubby reader #demon slayer smut #lemon 🍋#rengoku kyojuro smut #rengoku x you #x chubby reader

153 notes · View notes

fatkish · 1 month ago

Note

Hii!! If it's alright, Can I request a Muzan x Reader, Sfw, where the reader is chubby and quite insecure about her body so she pressures herself to improve herself in not only appearance and weight but in skills because she sees him as the perfect being that he is. But the pressure comes to point it's hurting herself?

Muzan x Chubby Fem Reader

You don’t really know when it started, this fixation on needing to be ‘perfect’. Perhaps it was ever since you met your current romantic partner, Muzan. Now you’re not blaming him for your current situation with yourself. It’s just hard to believe that someone as perfect and beautiful as him would ever truly love someone like you. That’s what you believe. You’re not what anyone would define as skinny, you definitely wouldn’t be able to win any beauty contest. And it’s not like you have some amazing phenomenal skill that draws attention away from your physical appearance or makes up for it.

Despite everything, you can’t help but compare yourself to Muzan. So much so, that you’ve started to eat less and less. You made smaller portions for your meals. And then you started to have less meals. You also began to workout. Jogging in place, doing pushups, anything that could possibly help you lose weight. But nothing worked. You tried your hand at various different crafts like sewing, tailoring, ceramics, etc. but each thing you tried was a flop and ended up in some kind of mess or failure. Not only were you essentially useless, you were fat. That’s what you told yourself day in and day out.

Muzan would often times be away for ‘business’, you both knew that you knew he was a demon. That’s why it never bothered you when he was away. You understood that more than likely he was away doing demon related things during his ‘business’ trips. You knew that he ate people and you were fine with it. He was astonished when you explained to him that you viewed demons as humanity’s natural predators. You explained how predator and prey relationships work in an environment and how you believe that demons are a necessary part of life, keeping the human population under control and keeping it from becoming overpopulated.

Maybe it was your peculiar way of thinking that made Muzan interested in you. But why he still is interested, you wouldn’t know. When Muzan is away, that’s when you would workout and rarely eat. He of course would send you messages via his third upper moon Akaza, telling you when he would be back or such. You had been working so hard and eating so little that it started to have adverse effects on you. You were often tired but you figured it was just that your body was getting used to the exercise. You had no idea how badly your body was being affected.

It wasn’t until Muzan came back one night and witnessed you fainting. He quickly caught your body and set your body down on your futon. Knowing medicine, the man quickly began to examine your passed out self. When you woke, you were met with those beautiful red eyes staring at you. Muzan was seated next to your futon, a book in his hand as he read, and a bowl of water next to him. You felt a damp rag on your forehead and realized you must have a fever. Muzan shut the book rather loudly and drew your attention to him.

“My dear, would you like to explain to me why you’re so fatigued and managed to catch a fever. I do believe I have explained to you how that body works and how to prevent getting sick.” Muzan spoke in a stern tone.

You clutched your blanket in your hands as you looked down at your lap. You nervously bit your lip as the love of your life, the most perfect being, stared at you awaiting your answer. Your face felt warm and your vision grew blurry as your eyes welled with tears. As the tears fell and landed in your lap, you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Muzan gently grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him.

“Look at me” he said. You looked into his eyes as he gently wiped away your tears.

“Now, now, what’s with the waterworks my dear?” He spoke in that velvety voice of his.

You bit your lip as you thought about your fears and insecurities. You wanted to lie and say you were fine, but you knew that Muzan would easily see through any lie you told. So you told him the truth. You confessed to him about how little you’ve been eating and how hard you’ve been working your body. You told him about how you’ve grown insecure about your body and the thoughts that run through your head. As you confessed to him, he sat there and listened intently and gently rubbed your back. As you finished, he held a handkerchief out to you to wipe your eyes with.

After wiping your eyes, Muzan helped you lay back down and replaced the damp rag with a new one.

“My dear, you could have killed yourself, starving yourself and working yourself so hard paired with the little sleep made yourself the perfect target for illness. Your immune system was weakened considerably, making it easy for you to get sick. While I am flattered that you think me to be the perfect being, I cannot allow you to continue with this. Once you’re healthy, I will help you try to find a way to help you lose weight without hurting yourself. But no more of this foolishness, do you understand?” Muzan chided.

You nodded and closed your eyes as your tiredness took over.

“Get some rest love.” Muzan softly spoke as he continued to read.

#muzan x reader #demon slayer muzan #muzan kibutsuji #kimetsu no yaiba muzan

88 notes · View notes

letters-to-lgbt-kids · 28 days ago

Text

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I believe that one of the best things you can do for your mental wellbeing is to just give yourself things to look forward to.

Your mind may go to expensive purchases or life changing experiences now, these bucket list items like “a month long international vacation” or “getting my own car” (or even something like “buying a whole new wardrobe and re-inventing myself after I come out” or “making queer friends once I graduated and moved out and cut my parents out of my life”) - but that’s not what I am talking about right now. In fact, for our purposes here it’s better if it’s not something like that!

Big goals and long-term dreams are cool! Don’t give up on them! But if our only sources of that giddy “I can’t wait to do that!” energy are things that may only happen in a few years (or “when I get rich” or “once I’m healed” or “when I get braver” or maybe even never), well, that’s a good recipe for feeling unfulfilled and like our current life is empty and boring compared to that shiny fantasy. You’ll miss out on a lot of joy when you save up all your feelings of excitement for the “later”.

So, this isn’t about big bucket list stuff and it also isn’t about any classic self-improvement techniques. If you look forward to exercise or meditation, all the more power to you (because obviously you’ll reap the mental health benefits of those things plus those giddy feelings)… but first and foremost this is about joy.

This is about seeing the magic in the ordinary things, in the here and now (and yes, that sounds pretty lame. Sometimes you gotta be lame to be happy!).

It’s also about feeling in control of your life. In order to look forward to something, you need to intentionally pick something to do. And that’ll feel so much better than just passively letting life happen to you or waiting for your “real life” to start or letting some algorithm choose which content to consume until it’s time for bed. It’s about not postponing joy until life gets better but making life better by making it more joyful!

So, how do you teach yourself to look forward to things and which things work best?

You need to set a (small, pleasant, easily achievable) goal and follow through on it.

It can be a small, special treat or reward, like “On Monday I’ll buy a candy bar after work” or “I’ll make a cup of my favorite tea tomorrow morning”. It can also just be being mindful of the things you do anyway: if you always listen to music while on the train, don’t just hit shuffle once you sit down and instead deliberately choose a specific album you want to listen to before you board the train.

The trick is just to intentionally pick something fun to do and then let yourself feel pumped about doing it and then follow through with actually doing it. It doesn’t even need to be anything new or different than usual! If you always make pasta for dinner because that’s your favorite dish, then just deliberately spend some extra thought during the day on how freaking awesome it is that you get to eat your favorite dish again tonight!

When you’re new to this, it’s best to pick something that’s in the near future, like later that day or the day after. You get time to build up excitement but you also get to follow through pretty quickly. So your brain gets to make the connection that happily looking forward to something is “worth it”!

This can feel a bit ridiculous and fake at first, especially if you’re usually not an overly cheerful person. It’s okay if it feels a bit silly to be joyful about the prospect of eating pasta. Good news is, this is something where you can absolutely “fake it til you make it”. You may have to consciously remind yourself to be excited about it at first (it’s okay to use little helpers, like notifications on your phone or a good old sticky note somewhere you’ll see it!) - but even when it’s fake at first, your brain will forge those pathways and over time “happily looking forward to things” will become a natural habit that’ll add a bit of sparkle to the ordinary!

And especially for those “waiting until I can be myself” cases: Yeah, finding magic in the ordinary will not “fix” living with homophobic parents or gender dysphoria. But it’ll give you some moments of light while you wait for things to get better. And you deserve that. Lighting some candles while waiting in the dark will always beat just sitting in the dark.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

144 notes · View notes

entwinedmoon · 2 months ago

Text

Cold Boys and Cannibalism

With today’s news concerning the identification of James Fitzjames’s remains—and the fact that those remains show signs of cannibalism—I have been thinking a lot about how those final, desperate days of the Franklin Expedition went down. But I’ve been thinking about those days in a particular light, one influenced by another special interest of mine: the Andes flight disaster.

The Andes flight disaster—aka the crash of the Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571, aka That Time In 1972 When A Uruguayan Rugby Team Was On A Plane That Crashed Into The Andes And They Had To Eat Their Dead Friends In Order To Survive—has long been a casual interest of mine. But earlier this year I watched the movie Society of the Snow, based on the book by the same name, and that kicked this interest into a full-blown hyper-fixation. I’ve been reading every book about it I can get my hands on, and I’m constantly trying to steer conversations towards mentioning it (“It’s a cold night tonight…but not nearly as cold as what the survivors of the Fairchild 571 had to endure on that mountain…”).

The Andes flight disaster has several similarities with the Franklin Expedition. They were stranded in the middle of nowhere, they had to endure freezing temperatures, and when the food ran out, they resorted to eating the flesh of their dead companions. There are also some major differences, of course, such as the Franklin Expedition being a purposeful exercise in exploration whereas the Andes flight disaster was an accident, and instead of highly trained members of the Royal Navy who followed a strict chain of command, the passengers on the F-571 were mostly pampered, upper-class, well-educated men in their late teens to mid-twenties, along with some friends and family, and there wasn’t an obvious leader or authority after the crash. But one of the main differences is that, unlike the Franklin Expedition, there were survivors of the Andes flight disaster.

Sixteen men survived 72 days on top of a mountain in the Andes, suffering through brutal temperatures, altitude sickness, starvation, an avalanche, and watching their close friends—and sometimes even their family—die. They were only saved when two of those survivors—Nando Parrado and Roberto Canessa—hiked ten days through the Andes to get help. When they were found, no one could believe it. These men had been written off as dead shortly after the crash. Despite only 16 out of 45 people making it out alive, their survival was hailed as a miracle. When they returned to Uruguay, they were treated like heroes.

Unfortunately, some members of the press were far more interested in painting these survivors as deranged savages. The rescue team had leaked photographs showing partially eaten body parts strewn around the wrecked airplane where the men had taken shelter. However, during a press conference on their return home, the survivors did not shy away from the truth. They admitted that they had only survived thanks to eating the flesh of those who had died. One of the survivors, Pancho Delgado, compared their eating of human flesh for physical salvation to the eating of Christ’s body for spiritual salvation. The largely Catholic country of Uruguay embraced this comparison.

The book Alive, written by Piers Paul Read using extensive interviews with the survivors taken shortly after their rescue, goes into some detail about the cannibalism that took place. It is not a book for the faint of heart. But even though the survivors have been very open about what they did, they still have attempted to distance themselves from this ultimate taboo by insisting that what they did wasn’t technically cannibalism but “anthropophagy.” Anthropophagy is the eating of human flesh, which the Andes survivors certainly did engage in, but they also very much did cannibalism. Survival cannibalism is the consumption of a member of your own species in order to survive, which is exactly what happened in the Andes—and what happened in the Arctic with the Franklin Expedition.

Every book I've read about the Andes flight disaster—Alive, Society of the Snow, and the several memoirs written by the survivors (14 of whom are still alive today)—all tell of the moment when the survivors decided they would eat the dead in order to live. Around the tenth day, after an agonizing and disappointing wait for someone to find them, several of the survivors spoke up. They had all been holding out hope that they would be rescued—their small food supply, mostly made up of snacks, candy, and alcohol, dwindling rapidly despite strict rationing—but it had become painfully clear that there would be no rescuers. No one was coming for them. And they had no food. They could only survive if they walked out, but they could only do that if they had the strength to do so. They needed to eat. There was only one way.

Some of the people who had survived the crash resisted the idea, while others fully supported it. Many put forth arguments for or against. Some said that they had a moral obligation to stay alive, and letting themselves die was wrong. Roberto Canessa, one of the two men who would later walk through the mountains to find help, was a nineteen-year-old medical student, and he emphasized the scientific side of things, explaining how they needed proteins to survive or their bodies would begin to break down. The religious explanation later used by Pancho Delgado at the press conference was actually first mentioned by one of the other survivors on that fateful day, Pedro Algorta.

I’m currently reading Algorta’s memoir, Into the Mountains. Early on in the book he too discusses that meeting of the survivors wherein they made the decision to eat the dead. He mentions the religious argument he had used. But he goes on to say that argument was merely an excuse and not the true reason he had supported cannibalizing the victims of the crash. He said that it was the emptiness of his stomach that had persuaded him. As he put it, “I was hungry and I wanted to live.”

When I read that line, my mind immediately went to the scene in AMC’s The Terror, where Lt. Hodgson spoke to Goodsir, telling him a story from his childhood about how he had once taken communion with his Catholic aunts, connecting it with the cannibalism Hodgson and Hickey’s mutineers had committed. He ended his speech with almost the exact same words used by Pedro Algorta, “I’m hungry and I want to live.”

I’m not sure if the Andes flight disaster influenced any aspect of this scene or not, but that sentiment shared by both the real-life Pedro Algorta and the fictionalized version of Lt. Hodgson is something vital to note when it comes to thinking about the cannibalism committed both by the Andes survivors and the Franklin Expedition.

Sure, it was around the tenth day in the Andes that they first cut into the body of someone they had once called a friend. But many of the survivors had already been thinking about eating the bodies for days. Nando Parrado, after waking up from a three-day coma to discover his mother had died in the crash and his sister was dying from severe internal injuries, was determined to walk out of the mountains to see his father again, even if it was the last thing he did. One day he was talking to fellow survivor Carlitos Páez about how they had run out of food. Nando told him he would not give in without a fight, and that if he had to, he would eat the pilot. Many others had similar thoughts, some keeping it to themselves while others discussed it among small groups of trusted friends. That conversation on the tenth day was merely a formality—they had already realized there was only one way to survive.

When it comes to the Franklin Expedition, we don’t know how that decision was made. When Fitzjames died, how long had the men around him been starving, their stomachs aching with hunger? Did the fading vestiges of the Royal Navy chain of command hold them back at all before they finally gave in to their bodies’ demands? Fitzjames was captain of the Erebus and third in command of the expedition. When Franklin died, he became second in command. There may very well have been an instance in which he became the leader of the expedition itself, depending on when Captain Crozier succumbed to the inevitable. Did his men see him as their captain still, or as merely a body, the man he was long gone and his flesh nothing more than something that could be used to prolong their own lives, same as how the Andes survivors saw the bodies of their dead friends?

As I mentioned before, the Andes survivors didn’t really have a firm authority figure. The pilot and co-pilot of the plane died in the crash, and none of them had really known those men, so they held no feelings of friendship or kind sentiment towards them. However, the rugby players did have a team captain, Marcelo Pérez del Castillo. Not everyone on board the flight was a rugby player—some were just friends or relatives of the players, others were only distantly connected and had just wanted a cheap ticket to visit Chile for a few days—but those who knew Marcelo respected him. Marcelo survived the crash but died in an avalanche that occurred sixteen days afterwards, killing eight of the survivors. The avalanche buried the plane, and the survivors were stuck inside for three days before they dug their way out. During those three days, they were cut off from the bodies of those who had died in the crash. With no other option, they were forced to feed on the eight who had died in the avalanche.

The survivors don’t like to specify which bodies they ate, out of respect for the families of those who died, but we know at least some of those who died in the avalanche were consumed. Marcelo may have been one of them. Even though he had once been the leader of the team and a friend of many of the survivors, his friends had no choice but to do what they needed to survive. And during that conversation on the tenth day, those who were still alive had vowed that their bodies could be used by the others for food if they passed away first. Marcelo had known what his body would be used for, and he had offered it up so that his friends could live.

Had Fitzjames done something similar? In AMC’s The Terror, there is a scene where he tells Crozier to give his body to the men, but that’s a fictional version of what happened. We don’t know what really happened to him, or to most of the Franklin Expedition. But it’s possible he did offer himself up, that he knew he could still be of some use even after his death. The Andes flight disaster shows us the extremes people will go to in order to survive—but also, it shows us the compassion and selflessness that can occur in those extreme situations as well. We think of cannibalism as a terrible act, but the Andes survivors also viewed it as an act of love on their parts, to have offered themselves to each other, willing to have their bodies be cut open and eaten to save their friends.

We think of what happened to Fitzjames as brutal, especially considering the cut marks on his face suggest a particularly sad desperation as the remaining men ate whatever last bits of flesh they could find. And since there were no survivors, there is no happy ending where the men came home, haunted but alive. Looking at other instances of survival cannibalism, however, what those men did is understandable. Cannibalism is seen as uncivilized—the first reports of cannibalism among the Franklin Expedition were dismissed as ludicrous and obscene by Victorian society—but in times of desperation, even the most civilized of men know that it is the only practical recourse. Fitzjames may or may not have known that his body would be used for food, but he probably would not have faulted his men for what they did. They were hungry and they wanted to live.

#franklin expedition #james fitzjames #the terror #andes flight disaster #society of the snow #cannibalism #cold boys in cold places

76 notes · View notes