#dewdrop x y/n

[nameless-ghoul-trash]

Sodo x F!Ghoul!Reader Pt.2

As requested, here is part 2 for my Sodo x Ghoul Reader. It's my first full smut, but I hope it meets your expectations!

MINOR DNI

Word count: 1.2k

Lightly proofread

Warnings: P in V, fingers, oral female receiving, degradation, slight praise. (If I missed any, let me know)

Part 1

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   The moment the door to Sodo's room closed, he pushed you against the wall. His lips landed on yours as his body presses into you. Slotting his leg between your thighs, the feeling his throbbing erection sends shivers down your spine. The fire low in your stomach grows with every touch, kiss, and sound. Growling Sodo grinds into you, his knee catching on all the right places. "You're always such a brat. Always so naughty." Kissing his way from your jaw to your caller bone, you turn your head to the side to give him better access. Grabbing you, he swung around and pushed you on the bed. "Strip." He demands taking his own clothes off. You happily do as you're told, but you're taking your time. Slowly bringing the hem of your shirt up, you lock eyes with him. Finally, bring it over your head. You let it fall to the ground. Then you go for your bra.

   Once your top half is bare, you reach down to work on your bottom half. With an impatient rumble, he loops his fingers into your waistband and pulls off your pants and underwear. Throwing your legs over his shoulders he lowers himself, bring his face to your exposed pussy. "Look at you so wet for me already." He drags a finger down yours slick, and brings it to his mouth.

   Sucking his finger clean, he held eye contact. Pulling his hand away from his face, he uses it to push you thighs open further and brings his face closer. Running his split tongue over your clit causing you inhale sharply and arch your back. He pulled away. "You want more of that." He taunted. "Yes!" You nod, tail thuding on the mattress. Flicking your clit again, he taunts you.  "How bad?"  "So bad. Please. Please. Please!" You sounded so needy. You were so fucking turned on and sensitive. Reaching down you intertwined your fingers in his long hair, griping his right horn with one hand. You use your grip to pull his face closer as you thrust up, needing the feeling of him giving your clit his undivided attention. Slowly he wraps his arms around your thighs and pressed his hands to you hips effectivly holding you down.

   "You've been such a naughty girl, tho. Naughty little slut. Giving me such a hard time. All the sass and sarcasm. The insults." His voice had a teasing tone in it. "Maybe I should just take what I want, leave you wanting. Leave you to think about your actions." At the last word he blows on your clit. You give a drawn out whine. "Please! Please, I need you!" You beg. Growling he finally began his assault on you aching pussy. Moaning at the sensation you tighten your grip on his hair.

   Drawing one of his hands lower, he replaced his tongue with his thumb and proceeded to tongue fuck you. The feeling of his ghoulishly long slipt tongue abusing your hole had your mind going blank, ripping a series of moan from you. The coil in the pit of your stomach begins to tighten. As he goes down on you like a man starved you can feel yourself getting close. Arching your back as that coil begins to come undone, the sensation stops. Let's out an unceremonious whine, your tail thuds on the bed, clearly irritated with the loss. Looking back at him, he smirks. Unraveling your hands from his hair you bring your fingers to your pussy to try and finish the job. Before you can make contact he grips your wrist. "Only good girls get to cum."  Standings, he brings his free hand to his cock, giving it a few lazily strokes. "Get on your hands and knees."  He let go of your wrist and motioned for you to move.

   Flipping around, you settle with your ass in the air.  Grabbing a hole of both ass cheeks, he spreads your lips with his thumbs and runs one through the ever growing pool of arousal. "Such a little slut. Your dripping wet." The sound you let out only fuel the fire. Pushing two long fingers in he sets a small pace, scissoring every few strokes. "You going to let me fuck you rough like a good girl?"  He produces a low rumble deep in his chest when you moan out a needy yes. He hastily removed his fingers from you. Rubbing the slick on the tip of his cock he lines himself up, keepingone handon your hip. In one fluid motion he drives into you, giving little time to adjust to his size.

   You both let out a moan as he bottomed out. "Take this cock so good." Pulling almost all the way out he slams back into you setting a brutal pace. Reaching he grabs ahold of your shoulder, fingers curling lightly around your throat. Using this new found leverage he drills in to you harder. Your tail wraps tightly around his forearm.  "So good. Feels so good." You could barely get the words out, so taken by the sense of him abusing your pussy. You are startled by the flat of Sodos tail rubbing aggressive circles on your neglected clit. More unintelligible word spill from your mouth mixed with heavy moans. The tight coil slowly begins to return.

   Sodo groans when your walls clinch around him. "You little whore. You love my cock deep inside you." Keeping his pace he pushes your shoulders down so your face is in the mattress. The new angle causing him to hit that sweet spot inside you. "Right there! Keep going! Please! Please! Please! Please! Don't stop!" You plead to him, moans racking your body. "You going to be a good girl for me?" He taunts. "Yes! Yes I'll be good! I'll be so good!" You cry out, the coil tight and ready to snap. He let's out a pleased grumble. After a few more thrust the coil snaps. A sob tears through you, your body trembling. Moaning he doesn't slow down working you through your orgasm. "That's it. Good girl."  His  thrusts begin to get sloppy and his breath uneven. With a low groan he comes to a full stop, filling your pussy with his cum.

   You unravel your tail from his arm, allowing him to let you go. Getting up, Sodo made his way to the bathroom attached to his room. You slide into the bed, staying face down. Sodo returning a minute or two later with a warm wash cloth walks back over to you. He had already taken care of himself. "Here, let me clean you up." His voice was soft. Rolling onto your side, you basked in his gentle touches. "How do you feel? Do you need anything?" His asked. "I feel good, tired, but good."  You give him a faint smile. "Can I stay here tonight?" You look away a little anxious. You had never stayed in any room but your own, and you half expected him to say no. "Of course you can!" You look to see him smiling.

   He pulled back the covers and motioned for you to get under. Quickly doing so, you make yourself comfortable.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this. As always, I appreciate any feedback! Requests are open! Nobody asked for it, but here's a picture of Sodo!

[zyonsay]

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[in-ghost-we-trust]

No dew on the morning grass

Chapter 2

Dewdrop x reader

Rain x reader???

A rewrite of twilight new moon

When dew left you crumbled into pieces, you've blocked out everyone

Rain = jacob???

Swiss = mike???

Also so very sorry this is so bad I'm on my phone not my computer, I haven't used my phone to post somthing on tumblr in years and I've completely forgot how to find bold and italics so pleaseeee don't judge I'm working with what I got

You haven't left your room in days, why should you? He's left and there's nothing else for you out of this room. When you do let yourself think, you realize that it sounds mean seeing how you have the rest of your friends, rain primaril. He was your best friend since he was summoned, you"ve been to peas in a pod ever since.

The first couple of days you didn't leave your room, he'd tried and tried to get in or you to come out, just anything, somthing. After you never did he would sit outside your door and tell you about his day, any stunts swiss pulled, mountains new flower beds for spring. He'd never get a reply but he could hear you shuffle out of bed to sit on the other side of the door, head pressed to the cool wood. You listened to him, took everything in. Anything he told you, you'd think about it when your mind wasnt on dew. As much as you wanted to open up that door and see rain, as much as you wanted his embrace, his familiar face, his safety, you couldn't bring yourself to open it. Your room was your salvation, no questions, no looks, you could just sleep, forget or dive into your grief, make yourself feel all the pain again and again. The pain was the only reminder that he was real, when mountain brought you back the pictures you had hanging from a line of fairy lights were gone, the blanket he got you for Christmas? Gone. All the shells he had dived into the lake by the abbey for you? Gone. It was as if wherever he had gone he had tied strings to anything that would directly remind you of him and tied them to himself and walked away.

You were in your bed when you heard it, the lock of your door being wiggled and a soft click, you weren't facing the door, you couldn't see who was comming in. Did you even want to look? You shut your eyes praying whoever this was would think you were asleep. A soft creak at the end of your bed sent a shiver down your spine, it didn't cross your mind it might be a creep or a werido until then. Staying still you heard soft foot steps and some rustling next to you. Your bed was about four feet from the window, you and dew had picked out a rocking chair when you both decided which one of your rooms to stay in when you became a couple. You hear it quietly creak like someone was sitting in it and rocking back and forth. A hand brushed stray pieces of hair away from your forehead, you fought the instinct to shoot your eyes open. The hand was cool and remind you of the smoothness of a rock. The hand left your skin and footsteps lead to the bathroom, the sound of water and more creaks towards you sounded in your ears. Your arm is lifted and a cold rag ran over it, you haven't even noticed you were burning hot, the rag moved to your other arm and the sheets you had covering you were moved away and you could feel the coolness of water run over your legs and stop just above your knee, at least whoever this is, is respectful. You heard a little drip drop of water and felt wetness on your face, gentle and safe, like you would wash a small child after they fell off their bike in the mud. It leaves your face and you don't feel anything else until a small part of your hair is moved, like someone trying to play with it. The rocking chair creeks and sounds like it is being pulled closer to the bed more than the window. You buck up enough to open your eye enough to look asleep and to see whoever it was.

Rain sat there looking at you, fingers fidgeting with the tips of your hair. You shut your one eye again. You relax a little bit but your brain starts to wonder. How long has he been doing this? How did you never notice? You decide to flip on your stomach to face him more, you feel his hands snatch away and a sharp intake of breath. You pretend to mumble somthing. You hear a shaky exhale and him starting to talk "I couldn't sleep again, swiss thinks it's werid for me to be here but I have to know your okay, I miss you so much ______ I mean everyone does but everyone has someone else" your stomach drops "cumulus and cirrus and sunshine, aether and swiss, mountains always been more to himself but me? I don't have you anymore" you feel like crying, you've been so caught up with your own heartache you've caused one "whenever you're okay and come back, I'll be there, as much as you need me" thank satan you had your eyes closed because if not tears would have been running down your face. You don't know what to do, you feel you have to do somthing. You "mumble" in your "sleep" again and stretch a arm out from under your head and let it flop on the arm of the rocking chair. You feel his hand take yours, it was a awkward angle but it was nice to feel his skin on your own. "I miss you so much _____" he whispers and traces your hand with his index finger. You actually do start to fall asleep with his voice as a lullaby. When you wake he's not there, your door is locked and there's no rag by your bed, no water, the rocking chair back in its spot. No evidence of him, just like dew.

Thanks to @the-fem1n1ne-urge for commenting, it really gave me motivation to write

Also sorry for no word count I'm writing this in tumblr and not my normal word docs

[cherrycxkes]

”You walked in and my heart went 💥bOoM💥”

(Our little Dewdrop animatic)

[iyanayukihime]

Happy Birthday oh dear sweet Incubus~!☆

Zanny birthday fic let's freaking go~! This took me quite awhile to finish but the outcome was worth it as this turned out so well!

Happy super, galactic birthday Zanny! *Sighs* your growing so old now.. kidding! I'm sure even if you reach your 70's you'd still look like 20 tehehehehe~

Sit back, relax, grab a snack and drink... most importantly-

Enjoy reading~!

Reminder: Please be known that I'm only writing about the Persona and not the person affiliated with the Model. This is also just fictional work so please don't take this too seriously.

Disclaimer: Might be OCC, might have spelling and grammar mistakes as English isn't really my first language ehe.

3 days ago, the lovely incubus of club netherbrand had to go on another business trip to Japan for a week. The good thing is that he'll be back the day before his birthday at 10:00 PM.

So the netherlings decided, and planned to prepare a big celebration and surprise the incubus with the help of the other mascots and the rest of Ravallum whom helped with what they could help with.

The day after Zander left, the netherlings immediately devised a plan right away which took way longer than expected as we all know, that the netherlings were all creative, but stubborn creatures.

So there were a bunch of little banters and disagreements between the jello like creatures. But in the end, they decided on how the party should be designed and what jobs each netherling will receive.

First to be given a task was MJ, the clubs resident mechanic. One of the few netherlings who was wingless.

He was given the task of making mini machines that could explode confetti as the actual ones were... too out of budget for the netherlings.

"You sure you can work on this alone?" Nygral asked, this netherling is the most-trusted and often called the netherlings 'Older Sister' as she was either working to make sure that Zander and the netherlings had less workload or you could just spot her stalking people. That too.

MJ nodded and adjusted his goggles before speaking, "I can handle it. It'll be done before you know it, just tell the others not to disturb me." He stated and Nygral nodded and wrote down on her tiny notepad before moving along to the next netherling in line.

Rosebriar, or Rosie as few of the netherlings call her; was a netherling who was also wingless yet always managed to hold themself with grace and sometimes captivates customers with her silence.

Which always ends up in Zanny having to drag them away from prying eyes.

Rosie, was put on the baker team. The baker team was as you can tell by the name, a team of netherlings responsible for baking sweets for his birthday. Who said that they would buy the store ones?

Always the best and fresh for their incubus after all~

"Rosie, I understand that you won't fall asleep in one of the cupboards again while baking." Nygral said in a strict tone as she didn't want to deal with any trouble and did want everything to be at least 94% perfect. How wrong she was however.

Rosie just nodded along with Nygral's words and sleepily walked along, Nygral sighs and writes down on her mini notepad.

"Can I also be put in the baker team Ny? Pleaseee~" Now this netherling was the clubs physic.. I know, shocking right?

Ryna was always part of the bunch of netherlings who were more angelic like than demonic, but thats what made the netherlings unique no?

"Absolutely not. Remember what happened last time? You almost turned yourself into a toasted netherling!" Nygral shivered at the memory as at that time, it was like she was a mother saving her child from a tornado when that happened.

Ryna was saddened but they kept their head up and waited for Nygral to assign them to a job.

"Alright, I think you'd fit writers cavern." She said, smiling at Ryna.

Before Ryna could ask what type of team that was; Nygral was way ahead of them. "That team specializes in writing the Invitations and letters commissioned by other netherlings." She stated.

Ryna happily accepted the role as they did have talent in writing and would love to see what type of letters the netherlings will commission.

"Before you ask Aryn- No. You are not joining the baker team." Nygral looked at the vampire-demoness hybrid of the club who deflated when she heard that she couldn't join the baker team.

"But why!? I know how to bake.." Aryn said, glancing at Nygral, who was displeased and just continued on with the assignment.

"Your heading off to the decora team, which I think you'd fit in more than the baker team. As you are one of the most trusted netherlings when it comes to fashion right? So I guess it's safe to assume that you'll do great in decor right?" The vampire-demoness hybrid tried to refute but was pulled away by Ryna and MJ when Nygral was about to bonk Aryn.

Aurie. The next netherling, was in a more nervous mood as she looked at Nygral who smiled gently at her. "Writers cavern right?"

Aurie nodded and thanked Nygral who head patted the shy but happy netherling.

The clubs siren and bartender. Cordelia, was easily assigned to the bartender team! "I'll make the most delicious drink just for Zanny~!" She said in a happy tone.

Nygral made sure that Cordelia knew and was aware that she also needed to make drinks that were for everyone, not just Zander.

The next netherling was the clubs most brilliant star when it came to music and overall entertainment, so Nygral knew just what job to give them.

"Sister Voltaire, I'm pretty sure it's obvious that you're the one of the few who'll perform the music tomorrow night." Sister Voltaire smirked at this and proudly showed Nygral the original song they were currently working on.

"Don't worry Nygral, I've got this~" And with that, Sister Voltaire walked away with a little strut in their step as Nygral smiled at them.

The next netherling who came forward was one who Nygral actually trusted the most despite her... sassy nature.

"Layla, Would you be alright with the baker team?" Layla huffed and just walked off towards the kitchen where her other team members were as Nygral watched her figure leaving.

"How rude! She didn't even say thank you!" Aurelia, the clubs most loyal netherling who would definitely not kill for the netherlings or Zander came forward and huffed at Layla's behavior.

Nygral sighed and didn't comment on it, instead focusing at the task at hand. She turned to Aurelia who smiled at Nygral sweetly.

"Hmm.... how do you feel about being part of the delivery group?" She asked to Aurelia who tilt her head to the head so Nygral explained more.

"You'll be in a group in charge of delivering invitations and basically run errands if we run out of preparations." Aurelia's face lit up at this and happily accepted the job.

"Thanksss Nyyy~☆" Aurelia bounced off and next to come forward was Serran, who was probably the oldest netherling.

They came forward with excitement present inside their eyes, and Nygral reciprocated that. "Nyny, I would love it if I could be assigned to the decora team~" Serran said with confidence.

Nygral thought for a bit but was also skeptical as last year they were stuck in jail for attempting to steal a ring while a murder of netherlings were shopping for Zander's birthday.

A few seconds passed and she sighed, staring deep into Serran's bright eyes. "All right.. you can be in the decora team but make sure not to go outside of the club if you need more supplies.." She stated.

They walked away humming while brewing a plan inside their brain, as Serran was also known as the most mischievous and unpredictable netherling out of the other netherlings after all~

Next came two netherlings who were actually already sorted out in a team but Nygral just wanted confirmation from them.

"Raven, Raymond. You both are alright with the bartending team with Cordelia right?" She asked.

"We'll be working with Cordelia!? Oh, I can't wait! Come on Raven, we must meet her!" Before Raven could speak, Raymond had already dragged themselves away from Nygral who sighed and preceded to just continue assigning the rest of the netherlings.

Next came Punk, whom was hesitant to join at first but Invii, the most closest to them, was able to convince them to join.

Nygral knew that she had to be gentle with punk and that was fine with her, she made sure to speak in a gentle tone.

"Punk, what group do you want to be apart off?" She asked and punk stayed silent for a few minutes before speaking up.

"Punk wants.. the group with decora." They said, shying away from Nygral's gentle gaze.

She smiled and noted that down, "Thanks Punk." She said and Punk smiled a little before saying "Punk says thank you as well." Before walking away.

"Zaki! Your on decora team as well by the way~" Nygral quickly told Zaki, the clubs strong demon smiled with glee as Nygral told her this.

"Thanks Ny.. I really appreciate that.." She said, playing with her fingers in nervousness.

Nygral smiles and headpats the demon and let her go on her merry way for the next netherling to come over.

Virgil, a newborn netherling was pretty much already expecting to be put in the Writers Cavern group, while he doesn't mind that, he does however.. mind the fact that he hasn't interacted with half of the netherlings in the club so he was pretty nervous.

So with Nygral's reassurance, Virgil walked towards the writers cavern corner to make new netherling friends!

Next came Eros, the clubs resident plan eater who Nygral was sure not to put them to the teams that'll work in the kitchen as they had an habit of eating the plants.

So instead, much to Eros's sadness and failed puppy eyes attempt, they were put to the delivery team with the warning off: 'Do NOT eat the package.'

Nygral then had to actually go underneath the bars counter to talk to Invii, a netherling who loved hiding under the shadows or anywhere thats dark and comfy.

"Invii, do you have any team you want?" Nygral asked Invii who jumped from shock seeing Nygral inside his secret place. The place wasn't so secret by the way.

"Maybe.. baker?-" "No." Invii sighed and knew it was impossible to convince Nygral once she saids no so they just gave up and let Nygral decide for him instead.

"Alrighty then, I'll be putting you inside the delivery team." "... Can I munch on the-" Before the automaton could even finished his sentence; Nygral quickly bonked him using her fluffy body.

After dealing with the automation; Nygral got out from underneath the bars counter to assign more netherlings to duties.

Next up was another netherling that Nygral trusted a lot... well kinda-

"Ashes.. I know that I said earlier that your going to the baker team but.. After what happened last time when you were in charged of breakfast.. I changed my mind." Ashes winched at the memory and apologetically smiled at the tired netherling in front of her.

Ashes was a simple but very chaotic netherling, yet Nygral somehow truster her more than Zander when the time came for it.

"I guess I'm staying with decora?" She asked and Nygral nodded at this, while Ashes wasn't really disappointed, it was obvious what chaos would unfold if Ashes was let inside the kitchen again...

"Charlotte... I know you're there." Nygral felt her soft fur shiver as the ghost of club netherbrand appeared, now Charlotte was a peculiar netherling who actually showed up outta nowhere and Zander adopted her because of the disservice she caused towards customers.

So Nygral had the perfect job for her. "Your staying with Sister Voltaire as an entertainer along with them." "Really? But Sister Voltaire looks kinda scary.." Charlotte said wearily.

She had never met the noir demon before but has heard words from other netherlings that were all good of course!

Nygral smiled and head patted Charlotte who had a weary expression on. "You'll be fine. Sister Voltaire is super nice." A few more reassurance got Charlotte to finally move along.

Next that came forward was Ares, one of the netherlings who had the gifted talent for arts. They were a netherling who Nygral also trusted as well, especially when it came to taking care of the newborn netherlings, they're were too many cases of newborn netherlings getting influenced. In a good way or brain rot way lmao~

"I actually wanna assign you to two jobs if thats fine with you." Nygral smiled at Ares who had a slight confused face on, like why would Ny trust them to two tasks??

"Don't worry it'll be fairly easy ones, you'll be officially assigned to the decora team but also assigned to entertainment." Nygral watched as Ares's face slowly changed to paranoia.

"Wha-What? Wait, Ny I understand decora but entertainment?? First off, why and second, you trust in my singing abilities??" Ares held Nygral's furry shoulders as they looked panicked.

Nygral sighed and slowly removed the netherlings paws off of her fur, and looked blankly at Ares who still looked panicked.

"Ares.. I've heard you sing at our karaoke nights before so don't even try and trick me into thinking your bad at it." She deadpanned.

"Yes I know that but! In front of boss!? Like, what if I mess up?" Ares said nervously while Nygral's expression softened and headpatted Ares on the head as comfort and it thankfully worked.

"Alright now go along and meet the other netherlings that are apart of your groups." Ares nodded and thanked Nygral for the kind words and walked away.

Next up was Ax, a netherling who was still young, chaotic but true. He wasn't opposed to any jobs that were gonna be given to him, in fact, he was more than grateful to be included in an event so precious to everyone who knew their boss.

"Alright Ax, I'm not really sure what group to put you into so I'll put you into a group thats more short staffed if thats fine with you." Ax thought about it carefully and decided to ask what group was Nygal thinking of putting him in.

"I was thinking the baker team, it's short staffed and even if you can't bake, washing the dishes or just cleaning around would be a huge help." She stated and Ax thought about it carefully again.

"Sure I don't mind being in the baker team, thanks for trusting me to join." Nygral smiled and the netherling went on his merry way towards the kitchen.

Marlo and Aestra, the newest additions to the club and the clubs resident netherlings who were also twisters/tornados came forward. Now the twins were talented in many things and were perfect for any jobs, and Nygral wanted to keep them together since they've never been separated before.

Looking at the twins more, Nygral finally decided on a proper job for them. "How do you both feel about being the leaders of the cleaning team? I think, because of your abilities, you both would fit cleaning up more." She stated and the twins looked at each other for a moment before looking back at Nygral.

"We don't mind, just don't put us in with some annoying netherli- OW-" "Thanks for assigning us Ny, I'll make sure that me and Marmar run things well." Aestra giggled while Marlo rubbed their side from the hit their sister gave them.

"Alright you two, go along now." She urged them and they both thanked her and went along their merry way~

The clubs jazz singer came next who was the last of the netherlings to receive a job, now her job was fairly simple to decide as Eva Faye, did have a talent in the world of jazz music.

"Your on entertainment with the others Eva, make sure to talk to them about the songs you're planning on singing." Nygral smiled at Eva who happily ran to the clubs main stage where the other members of the entertainment team were.

They're were actually more netherlings that had to be assigned for a job but Nygral in the meantime assigned the leftover netherlings in cleaning up duties or helping where its needed.

Nygral heads over to the kitchen first as she assigned herself to help with the baking as she had knowledge in it but she sincerely hoped that when she heads outside of the kitchen for a break or to check the progress... that she wouldn't find the club in shambles again.

Writers Cavern:

"Alright first order of business fellow writers, we should plan a mini letters, mini stories and even some poems maybe?" Ryna suggested as Virgil and Aurie noted that inside their tiny notepads.

"What type of poem tho..?" Virgil asked the two who thought for a moment before Aurie answered his question.

"Well it could be centered around how happy us netherlings are with boss right?" Aurie suggested and Ryna as well as Virgil happily agreed to Aurie's suggestion.

With that, the three writers went on to brainstorm some more before actually writing the idea.

Entertainment Galore:

"Ares~ I didn't think that you'd be assigned to this team~" Sister Voltaire said as they gave Charlotte headpats who despite being a ghost, a spell was casted on her to have and feel physical touch. Which helped a lot when it came to tasks and interacting with Zander and the netherlings.

"Uh yea.. Ny assigned me to decora as well." Ares responded back to them who simply smiled with eyes filled with glee.

"I can't wait to hear your voice then Ares~" they said and Ares blushed a little at this as the noir demon just giggled.

"I honestly feel like I'm third wheeling but at least I'm getting pampered.." Charlotte mumbled as she watched Ares and Sister Voltaire excitedly talked about the lyrics to their original song.

"Sorry I'm late! I had to get my voice ready." Eva sat beside Ares and Sister Voltaire who both smiled at her.

"I wasn't aware that you're with us as well~" Sister Voltaire mused. "Yeaa.. I was the last one to be assigned to a job and on top of that I also had to prepare my voice." Eva explained to the two.

"Well it doesn't matter, at least you're here now. We were planning on writing an original group song so let's start on it yea?" Ares said with glee. Charlotte once again floated to Sisters Voltaire's lap to receive headpats that they happily gave.

Sweet Cheeks:

"Why'd you decide on that as our groups name Rosie..?" "Yea. It sounds stupid." Nygral and Layla both looked at Rosie who sweat dropped at this and Ax laughed at the whole ordeal.

"I mean... we all do have sweet cheeks.. ri-right?" Rosie slowly backed away from Nygral who was indeed ready to bonk her.

"Could you jellies stop messing and help me get the cheesecake batter done!" Layla yelled as her little jelly like body was trying to carry the flour.

The three sighed and went to help Layla who was already, almost covered in flour as her horn accidentally poked a hole outside the flour bag.

"Hope the sweets turn out well..." Ax prayed that it would go well, he does not want to clean a kitchen thats infested with flour or batter. He has 70% confidence that no mess will be made. Maybe-

"Hey guys, I brought the... What is happening here?" Then came in a the clubs netherling that was an incubus just like Zander, he looked at the mess in front of him with poor Ax looking like he went through hell with the amount of flour he was cleaning.

"Great timing River! We need help over here!" Nygral yelled as she carried a Rosie that was fast asleep.. How could anyone sleep amidst the chaos?

River quickly ran over to Layla's side; who struggled to mix the batter with the whisk that was almost two times bigger than her.

Ax looked at the chaos unfolding in front of him and sighed.

Yes... this was indeed going well.

Inventors Workshop:

MJ was in a space he set up himself as his workshop to make his inventions such as the confetti canons.

He was being quiet and fully focused at the invention he was handling when he heard a noise behind him..

MJ rolled his eyes and sighed and without looking back he already knew who it was. "Shouldn't you be with your team Invii?" The automation giggled mischievously and manifested from the shadows.

"I just wanted to check on how you were doing~" Invii walked towards the inventor who let the automation to do his thing.

"Don't they need need you Invii?" MJ asked, "Not really, the decora and writers teams need to make the invitations first before my team can deliver them. So my whole team is pretty much just helping around right now." Invii answered.

"So you're slacking off?" MJ asked, smirking as Invii pouted at this.

'Maybe some company wouldn't be so bad.' MJ thought.

Bartending Slayers:

"Cordelia, why weren't you chosen for entertainment as well? You're a siren right?" Raven asked as she arranged the glasses on the cabinets.

"Cus, you can't just ask that ya know!" Raymond scolded her but Cordelia just chuckled and shook her head.

She closed her notebook which contained receipts for her drinks, and looked at the two cousins.

"Even if Ny had asked me on what team I wanted to join, it'd still be this one, making a exclusive drink for Zanny and the netherlings as well as the guests is such a amazing feeling to me~" The two saw the passion and love the siren held for her job and that made them respect her more. So they vowed to help her in any possible way they can.

Decora Colora:

"Punk thinks that this shouldn't be placed here.." He said as Zaki placed a handmade purple flower she made on one of the tables.

"Why not?" She asked him and Punk happily answered. "Punk thinks that the wind that the door might make will blow your flowers away." Zaki looked at Punk for a second before moving the flowers to a place where they wouldn't get blowed away. Zaki also thanked Punk who happily accepted the thanks.

Meanwhile, Ashes and Aryn were both making the designs for the invitations before giving them to the writers to finish them off.

"I'm so excited for tomorrow but I'm also reminded of how much work we have to do.." Aryn said as they started coloring the paper they designed.

"I'm sure we can finish before boss comes back tomorrow. I mean, the netherlings are all hardworking so there's no doubt that we'll get the tasks done~" Ashes stated in a gentle tone, focused on the drawing in front of her.

"Hey guys, how's the invitations going?" "Ares!" "Took ya long enough." "The time got away from me sorry..."

Ares sat down with the two and helped them with the invitation making as they kinda did have a lot to make.

. . . . . . . . .

Half the day had had passed and the netherlings were all still hard at work, each of them with determined faces on and pouring every ounce of love inside their hearts into whatever they were doing for their incubus.

Sweet Cheeks:

"I think the batters ready to stay inside the fridge now." Layla stated as she looked at the delicious vanilla batter in front of her, the rest of the team nodded at this and the only thing left was to carry the wide trays of batter inside the fridge.

For that, they all switched into their human forms as they didn't wanna cause a accident... they don't have history to repeat itself after all..

After putting the trays inside the fridge and making sure that the seals were tight; they all sighed in relief as they switched back to their jelly forms.

"Ny, are you sure that we made enough cake..?" River asks as his tail swishes back and fort like a cats, Nygral thought for a second and answered. "Maybe cupcakes and a few other sweet treats that are easy to bake wouldn't hurt?" She said and looked at the netherlings in front of her.

"What about food?" Ax asked and Nygral answered, "Since I know that we might screw the cooking, I decided to just order food." "Thats good. Don't wanna see netherlings getting turned into a burger accidentally lmao." "Layla!" They all laughed an started to get to work again as they still had a lot to bake.

Decora Colora:

"Okay, which netherling took the glue? I need it right now ASAP." Zaki stated as she looked around.

The club was already half decorated and it looked beautiful. Flowers, fairy lights, balloons, and fanart made by the other netherlings were hang up on pretty vines that were hanging as well.

"I'm gonna take a break, my paws are tired~" Ashes let go of the crayon she was holding and stood up to stretch their bones(?).

"Punk can finish yours if thats fine with you?" Punk asks Ashes who happily agreed to their request.

The decora team were all pretty quiet as they were focused on their own tasks when it came to decorating, which also helped them speed up the process that they're the team thats almost done.

Writers Cavern:

"Maybe replace that word with something more.. lighter? To make sure it's easy to pronoun for the readers?" Virgil suggested and Ryan quickly took the suggestion.

"I think we should also make sure to make the fonts more lighter as well, heavy fonts might send confusion." Aurie also suggested.

Ryna typed inside their laptop for a little while then showed the work to Virgil and Aurie whose eyes sparkled upon reading the words.

"This is perfect!" "You did amazing!" The two exclaimed at Ryan who blushed a little at the praises.

They agreed on the letter and they started working on the design for the big letter, that was actually a speech the netherlings all put their hearts into. They're all such sweeties aren't they?

Inventors Workshop:

MJ was once again alone in perfecting his invention as Invii had already left to get back to their team to prepared as the invitations were almost done for deliveries.

MJ made sure that the device was netherling proof as he knew how reckless netherlings could be and also because he didn't wanna cause another injury like last time... we don't talk about that-

Bartending Slayers:

"Ew... this drink tastes horrible Rayray.." "Shut up Raven yours is worst!" Cordelia watched as the two cousins in front of her argue in amusement while she herself, was mixing a drink.

The cousins held a competition on whose drinks fit the menu more, but in the end; Cordelia ended up choosing two drinks from each of them. stating that the rivalry wasn't necessary as she would have chosen two drinks from them anyways ahahaha~

Entertainment Galore:

Sister Voltaire was humming while writing down on their notebook the lyrics they had thought off for their original song that was dedicated to Zander.

Ares went back to the decora team as they finished their part on the groups original song and have already worked on their mini original song that was also dedicated to Zander.

Eva was teaching Charlotte how to harmonize with her as they were in need of backup vocals and at first Charlotte struggled but eventually got the hang of it.

. . . . . . . . .

Everything in the club was going well and the netherlings all worked until sun had risen up again, the netherlings all woke up to ryzawrs licking their faces!?

"What the heck!? Ew get off of me!" One of the netherlings said as the ryzawr innocently tilted their head.

"Netherlings! Took you all long enough to wake up, it was already 7 PM in the evening, you jellies slept for so long~" Ryzar smiled at the Netherlings who all looked confused at what was happening.. what was bro doing here??

"Mister Ryzar... since when did you get here?" Nygral, who had also just woken up and was now on her human form, walked over to Ryzar with tired eyes and dark circles.

"Me and my cupcakes came over at 2 PM as Zanny wanted someone to check on you guys, but I can see that you all are doing well." He stated as he looked around the club.

"The club was filled with colorful decoration all around but also had mess all around.

The netherlings all gathered themselves and ate some food that Ryzar and the ryzawrs kindly brought over for them. Ryzar didn't ask what all the decor was for as it was already obvious. The 'Happy Birthday Zanny!' banner gave it away-

After the late lunch, Nygral gathered all the netherlings for one final meeting.

"Alright netherlings, in a few hours, boss will be back from Japan along with the boys. The plan is to gather everyone and surprise boss with everyone here, completed and in harmony. Ryzar will be helping the delivery team to deliver the invitations while the ryzawrs will help with last preparations. Let's all do our best for boss!" Everybody cheered and they all quickly got to work for the final stretch.

Delivery Team:

"Aurelia, Eros and Invii, ya''ll ready to rumble?" Serran asked as they all got ready to head out with Ryzar by their side, just to make sure they're all safe ya know.

The first place they went to was where the dewdrops, roscals, pipsqueaks and lunarists were all gathered and were actually waited for them.

After giving the invitations to the rest of the Avalights, they went to each of the Ravanis members houses to deliver the invitations to them as well.

It took them two hours to deliver everything and they were all super tired when they came back to club netherbrand which by the way, was already filled with guests.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"Are you all sure that we should eat dinner at the club? I still have to get me and my netherlings to whip up something." Zander and the rest of Avallum landed a few minutes ago and they were all now inside a Uber that was driving to the location of club netherbrand.

"Well, I think it'd be more nice to eat a home cooked meal by you Zanny~" Lucien mused and the other boys, yes even Rosco, agreed.

The incubus didn't really question. anything as his mind was overshadowed with thoughts of his netherlings, he couldn't wait to cuddle with them tonight.

That was the best birthday gift he could ever receive later midnight.

. . . . . . .

They all got out of the Uber and payed the driver, the blond then saw that the clubs windows was closed by curtains and that the lights were all closed.. hm? Thats odd.

The rest of the boys just closely followed behind him; Rosco trying so hard to hide the grin, Gale and Cassian waiting for it while Lucien prepares his voice for the yell.

Softly and cautiously.. the incubus opened the front door and was met with a dark void ahead, he reached for the light switched and mere seconds after the lights was turned on, the whole club was developed with loud cheers and colorful confetti.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZANDER!!!!"

Everyone around him cheered and the incubus stood in shock as he looked at every netherling, some were in their human forms while some were in jelly form. They were all smiling.

The Ravanights and Avalights also cheered happily in their own cute, little ways while Ravanis and the rest of Avallum greeted each other.

"Boss? You alright?" Nygral was the first to approach the incubus who was frozen in place with shocked eyes.

It took a few moments for the incubus to process things before he teared up while the netherlings approached him.

"I...I.. you all didn't have to.." He said, eyes raw with strong emotions as the netherlings were all over him. Some laughed with amusement, some cried with him, some comforted him and some felt and did all.

He collapsed on the ground and hugged all the netherlings with so much love and warmth as they, also returned the same.

After that precious moment, obviously recorded by the others for... blackmail- memory reasons. Yes..

The baker team brought out the cheesecake that was decorated with dozens of strawberries. They all sang him the song and he made a wish as well, then blew out the candles.

The food came and they all enjoyed the food and cake while the entertainment team sang many songs all dedicated for their incubus who may or may not have cried a little~

The bartenders prepared the best drinks with Zander making sure that they all wouldn't drink too much.

The party lasted for a few hours before the guests all eventually had to go home, the cleaning was left to the netherlings as they let the incubus sleep as they knew he was tired.

"He really looks like he drank a lot didn't he." Layla said as she wiped the table the incubus was sleeping on.

"Can some of you carry him to his bedroom, him sleeping here wouldn't be so comfortable." Nygral ordered and a murder of netherlings complied as they carried the incubus up to his bedroom to lay him to sleep.

After the long cleaning the whole club process, Nygral gathered the netherlings again for one final meeting.

"Operation: Incubus Party is completed successfully. I wanna thank all the netherlings who worked hard today! We all did very well and I could see how happy this whole party made him." They all happily cheered and the night was officially done.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The incubus stirred awake, he saw the full moon shining through his windows, the bright light enlightening his surroundings.

He looked tried to sit up but felt heavy and soft objects weighting him down, he looked down and to all sides of his bed to see his netherlings all soundly asleep.

He smiled and laid back down, making sure not to wake any of them as well as putting the blanket up for them.

He looked to the full moon peaking outside his windows and closed his eyes to repeat the wish he had said earlier.

"Please always keep my netherlings all safe and sound. They all deserve nothing but the best in their lives." He opened his eyes and smiled at the memories flashing inside his mind.

He couldn't wait for his birthday next year as this time, he promises... He will give back to his netherlings.

He promises, to love his netherlings ten times more.

Eternally,

Willingly,

Forever....

The incubus closed his eyes for the night once again, holding the most precious beings that were blessings close to his heart. The moon looking down at them, making sure to protect the incubus and his netherlings.

Because even the moon knows...

How much the incubus cherished the netherlings.

The beings who changed his life.

Happy Birthday, Zander Netherbrand.

May the years to come forever be in your favor.

I.. kinda teared up at the last part-

I hope ya'll enjoyed reading this and thank you to every netherling who participated in this :3

Reblogs are appreciated and Feedback/Comments are always appreciated! :3

(Note: please don't copy and paste my works anywhere, and if you do see them on other platform please inform me.)

[tonycries]

BIG BOYYY!

Synopsis. He’s a big boy, and he’s gonna make that biiig stretch fit.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, making it fit, they’re BIG, cervíx kíssing, D slipping, tummy buIges, manhandIing, p sIapping, GOJO’S POWERS, limitless, true form Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s second mouth, use of “my wife”, BRÉEDING, overstím, creampíes, cúmplay, ROUGH (Geto), squírting, mating presses, MARATHONS, slight exhíbitíonism (Higuruma), proposals, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. We all need a big boyyy-

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - ENORMOUS!

“Don’t tell me yer runnin’ already, doll?” Toji’s husked breaths scorch the sagging back of your neck, a few sploshing dewdrops of saliva splattering out from his scarred lips. “M’not even hah! halfway in yet.”

What? Oh. Your head dizzies itself with the mere thought, a soft gasping moan wafting from your gaped maw. “Y-you’re lying–”

It was just too cute how your stupidly lolling head wrenches back and forth in a desperate attempt to take a goood, long look behind at the way he’s opening you up sloppily. Just the merest, tiniest swab of that tannish-pink tip spreading open your gummy walls, stretching n’ stretching. 

“M’not.” Toji grumbles out, gruff syllables hitting the curved tips of your ears. The rickety bed creaks and suddenly he’s slouching back; resting his weight just at the base of your curved spine. Before you know it, he’s got a foot pressing down on your head- “Watch me make it fit, mama.”

Two rugged hands homing themselves on either side of your prettily quivering hips, you could feel every scar and callus texturing your heated skin once Toji grits his teeth and draaaaags you down. 

Knees scuffling on the silken sheets, jittery arms trying to grapple for the headboard- anything.

You’re like a lil’ doll underneath him, all shaky as he’s manhandling you to gulp up the needy slope of his length with your slick-covered hole. More and more and more. A glossy layer of sap splashes from where he was stuffin’ you to the brim, drenching the very base of Toji’s happy trail in a glittery lacquer. 

“Would ya look at that–” You hear him drawl out from behind you, the fat pad of his thumb rubbing sluggishly down the sticky liquid pouring along his hilt. “-think this pretty pussy wants to end up hck! pregnant, doll.”

Shit, the idea he’s plugging your cottony brain with was enough to make you slobber with your arousal. You can’t help it. “Th-then do it.”

Dark brows quirked, Toji’s inching even closer to hear those whispered words of yours. And in the process he’s feeding you with a sloooow slide of his vein-covered shaft.

Almost mockingly, one of his engulfing hands reaches out to uncurl your own from the frigid bed frame. Stealing away the only thing keeping your semblance of sanity, Toji plants a sweet, sweet peck on your knuckles. “Wha’s that?”

“Th-then–” You can barely punctuate each trilling whine with words - and Toji isn’t making it any easier. Quite the opposite, in fact, after he ruts n’ ruts as you try to cry out– “-do- do it. Do it- fuuuck- wan’ you a-all inside-”

The last ringing sound out of you is a noisy squeal– followed almost instantly by the soggy slurp! of him mazing his gluey pre-capped tip past your glossed folds. And as if that wasn’t enough, Toji’s tightening his grasp on your wrist to leverage you down, down, down.

“P-please–”

“P-p-please!” He taunts dramatically from behind, octaves higher. The meaty muscles of his leg work overtime to push down your thrashing body, pinning you down and making you take it. “Stop fuckin’ moving n’ gimme- gimme a kiss, mama.”

Your tears stream down in sheeny streaks, blending with the ever-growing puddle of drool that was drenching the pillow underneath you. Poor lungs wheezing at the pressure, your sobs depart with every new swollen, throbbing inch being shoveled inside you. “H-how?”

“Tch.”

You don’t have to see it to know that Toji’s rolling his mossy, half-lidded eyes - to know that the curled ends of his lips were twisting into a lecherous smile. 

But what you certainly didn’t expect was the fleeting feeling of his lips to trace right down in a line of kisses along your perfectly arched spine. Like the calm before the storm.

The sweetest little act of pure lovin’ before Toji sets your fuzzy head free from his pressed weight, and then hooks both your arms behind your back and bottoms out–

“Meant givin’ me a kiss right ngh- here, doll.” Those snarling words strike the outside shell of your ear right before his fat, ruby-red tip was striking your cervix. Oh. Oh. 

The moment your velvety pussylips wrap ‘round his bulked base, Toji Fushiguro himself was practically collapsing right on top of you. 

His pointed chin digging into the clammy crook of your neck, sweat-polished abs glissading glibly down your back. How you looooved the drag of his naturally chiselled front, every cutting edge of his built muscles. 

He’s so fucking plump there that you can feel your fleshy innards bruise with the staggering circumference of his proud crownhead. Sweltering hot, Toji’s mushroomed tip was practically steaming out dribbles of glossy precum that flooded you from the inside out. A sleek, slippery few wires of it beading from either end of your stretched-out slit. 

Probing, fattening. 

And the stretch- oh, you couldn’t think about anything but the stretch. 

Toji wasn’t simply bottoming out, he was sinking his achy cock all the way into your lungs. Ravenous planes of his palm roaming over your tummy, Toji smirks as he feels that familiar lil’ bump from the inside. 

“Feel me? Feel me d-deeeep in that cute bulge, hm?” The sensory spheres of his fingertips scratch that bulged outline, proud. Smug. Your lungs rip out with a primal cry as his dribbling tip pokes deeply into the goopy ends of your pussy. Your cervix. Your womb. “Giving her a little ngh- kiss right here.”

“K-kissing there?” You’re babbling, stupidly.

“Mhmmm–” A few adoring little runs over where he was hitting and hitting the targeted bullseye of your g-spot. Sloshing out messy sprays of precum each and every time. “Here. Riiight here, ya hah- like it- don’cha? S’cute how wet you are.”

And you can’t even believe he’s this big - you can’t believe that he’s bloating himself up even bigger with every ragged ba-dump–! 

Pound after pound.

After pound.

The vibrations thud down your humid walls and shoot white-hot pleasure right up your spine, tongue too-heavy. “So big- so big so big— s-shooo good!”

“Yeahhh? Shooo good, is it? Look at you takin’ that f-fucking cock you said was too big.” Your teary pupils start swirling in circles upon circles inside of your eyes, matched with the exact same pace that Toji was thumbing on the shiny outside of your hole. Letting out the rawest, loudest sluuuurp when he pushes a thumb in– “Now we’re gonna work on that hck! stretchin’, mama.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Cuffin’ season.

Nanami thinks he’s about to lose it - Nanami thinks he’s about to combust. 

And he already has- a proper five helpings of his creamy, buttery cum coating your insides after so many rounds upon rounds. You were stuffed to the very brim with all your husband’s sweltering hot bouts of seed, and his tastebuds coat over with a fresh wave of saliva at your hugging cunt.

Mouth-watering. 

Nanami turns his molten, honeypool eyes over to the way your mouth hung wiiidely agape. His ruby-red tip spotting out a few more dangerous splotches of pre at the very sight of you struggling to take him more than just halfway.

“My love—” Deep baritone voice dipping into a gentle coo, his stern lips swerve up into a little grin when your pretty body trembles. “Open your eyes, darlin’- lemme see those beautiful eyes.”

Shit- you’re simply cross-eyed and dazed almost cartoonishly once you do. Your throat ripping with a few sobs at the feeling of his swiveling cock probing a few inches deeper - without even trying. So overstimulated that you can only blubber–

“K-Ken- Ken–” Hips trying and failing to raise off of the drenched-through bedsheets, you’re only succeeding in carnally itching the hood of your clit against his golden happy trail. 

“M’here, my wife–” Aw, it always made his blushed red tip twitch whenever you got this cockdrunk. A tint of loving red flushing over his high cheekbones, and one of Nanami’s massive palms claw over your sweat-matted crown to push, push, push. “You can take it, g-gonna take it allll f’me this time- aren’tcha?”

And you can only nod and nod– your sloppy hole always got so much needier after a few good, solid orgasms. N’ every scrape of his swollen, vein- shrouded shaft left you speechless, head throwing back when the grinding curve of his cock pinpoints your g-spot like two magnets. 

Nanami’s so big that he had to get you all dumb until you’re aching to be stuffed ever-more. Hiding away about ten proper inches that instinctively molded your battered pussy to all his pretty measurements. 

A few curly hairs of his tawny trail tickle your plump clit, waterlogged into a swampy mess with how much you were leaking. How much he was making you leak.

“Real pretty pussy, darlin’.” The cold fringe of his wedding band makes you let off a whiny hiss, smearing open your puffed-up pussylips with a sluggish sluuuurp. “So cute grindin’ on me. She’s like a lil’ hah- heart.”

Glassy, half-lidded eyes of yours blink upwards, “Shit-” Your unsteady knees thrash back into the curves of your tits, feeling his tannish cockhead slip against your sponged cervix. Tender. Bruised. You can’t help but throw your head back and reach for your headboard- “Shit shit shit shit- Ken–!”

“No no no no- don’t run away, my love–” Grunting, one of his arms clings around your squirming waist to pin you down. To hold you still so that Nanami’s other hand can guide one of your own over his plushly toned left pec - where he had your initials secretly tattooed, right above his heart. “Gonna take it, alriiight? Gonna take it like my hngh- good wife.”

His pretty wife. His gorgeous wife. 

Slobbering down thick stripes of slick n’ cum as he curls a hand around your throat and ruts. “S-see how much I love you, hmmm?” His split-ended head searches for your cute womb, and such saccharine mewls leave your lips once you feel yourself gapingly full. Once he was pounding a heavy-duty thrust into you until every thought departs your fuzzy mind. Bottoming out. “How much I- oh.”

Your entire body just lathers with the smell of sex and his musky cologne once Nanami’s sensual mushroom tip unapologetically snags against the ridged orifice of your g-spot. Whack. Whack. Whack- all it takes before you cum.

And you’re not just cumming - you’re squirting. 

Your vision invaded with spots of white-hot pleasure and you’re falling over the edge, arms throwing around his neck. Fingers reaching for his perspiration-dewed undercut, “Fuck- fuck m’cumming m’cumming, Ken–”

Like he wouldn’t notice– yeah, right. Nanami’s slamming into you until his pelvis rubs rawly crimson, raspy throat clogging up with your name. Your cunt just flinches with every peak of high he’s fucking you through. Dragging you through.

Really sloppy. 

Continuously probin’ the tender places of your magical spots with every echoed thwack! Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets as he swabs up the syrupy sheen of squirt decorating all your inner thighs. 

Those slick-drenched tips of his fingers sticking right between your slackened mouth, “Sweet- isn’t it, darlin’?” Breaths labored and harsh- Nanami himself sounded like he was only keeping himself together at the very seams.

His long, light lashes flap blearily, “What- wha’s that?” You’re only gurling out lucious lil’ spitballs from either side of your mouth, heart-eyed pupils doing most of the talking. His face tints a blushing pink, temples matted with beads and beads of sweat. “Awww, my wife wants ta s-spit in my ngh- fuckin’ mouth, huh?”

And before you know it- you are. Before you’re even in control, so that your husband’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs with a moan– “Mhmm– there we go, my sweet girl.” Mouth doused. “Happy?”

The curvaceous ridges of his abs gleam and glitter with sweat, tensing once his thrusts grow sloppier. Deeper. Shoving you into the screeching bedsprings, such a nicely burning stretch that your lips keep uncontrollably forming an adorable lil’ oh! The only thing snapping you back into reality being the layers of viscid cum gumming against your walls, and the way that Nanami’s bulbously bloated tip twitches.

Fuck- he didn’t even know if he could cum. Didn’t know if he even wanted to. 

But with you laid out underneath him like this? How could he not?

Trying and trying and trying and when Nanami finally reaches his high it’s with his pummeling inches pillaging your very glossed core, allll the way deep inside so that you could almost feel him in your throat. Burning hot. 

One spurt, two spurts. He’s not even reaching three slippery, slick ribbons of cum before he’s all milked dry. The very mound of his blushing tip slapping constantly until Nanami’s visage spots black. Until his toes curl, thighs shivering. 

You look up at him and you think you could cum all over again. 

Because he’s so fucking…pretty. 

All blond hair disheveled- but doing nothing to curtain his greedy gaze, sweaty upper lip trembling– Nanami pecks your forehead sweetly, “Mmmm– marry me all over again, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Rrrrrrough

Now, Geto was so big that all he has to do is plug your cunt with his red n’ swollen tip to leave you stupidly cockdrunk. To leave you mewling and squirming underneath him in such a sloppy, sloppy mating press - your hips jerking off the bed as if your dew-sheened walls weren’t just begging for more.

And ohhh, was he smug about it. 

“C’mooooon–” Geto’s sharp grin is so sleazy that you feel it sending electric trills down your desperately arched spine. Perspiration-dampened forehead resting on top of yours, he plants a resounding smack! on your puffed lips. “-s’that all ya got, gorgeous?”

Pap after powerful pap that was making your slick-dribbling entrance start to overflow, rounded globular tip of his scratching your walls down straightly in lewd lines. The deeply probing sensation so sinful that it makes you keen, “N-no! Stop teasin’ n’ just fuck me, Suguru.”

“Fuck you with-” Another spank, and another singular inch bullied past your hole. “-jus’ the tip, riiight?” 

As if to prove his point - oh, he already knows he’s proved his point - Geto’s fucking you with only that globed top. Frosting out creamy pre every time his shaft crownhead “accidentally” slipped out n’ left you clenching around nothing. 

Geto leaves three staccatos of spanks over your still-clothed, ruined cunt, the burning friction against his delicate veins making him hiss. “Can this pretty pussy even handle all hah! that?”

Such a tease. All you can do is clench your poor walls instinctively, formulating a few frothy bubbles of slick that ring around his fat hilt. Messy. “No, I want it a-all.”

His stubborn girl. 

Well- with a rickety creak, your unsteady legs are being thrown over his deltoids before you know it. Slipping n’ sliding until he’s locking them with one grasp of his beefy arms, making you ogle the sexy flex of his milky biceps. 

Geto Suguru was a mean man. With an even meaner cock, swelling into an even girthier circumference whilst he’s thumbing open your sap-glossed pussylips. Your cunt lets off the loudest, moistest sluuuurp! as he’s splattering a good bucketload of spit. 

“Hmmm, you asked for it–”

And then he isn’t easing in - he isn’t going slow. Hell no, in mere sultry nanoseconds, you’re being split so open by the entirety of Geto’s ruddied, prolonged length that you see stars.

Perhaps even the gates of heaven themselves- or, at least, you would have if you hadn’t caught a glimpse of his devilish leer. Gleaming pearly whites clenched so hard that his tastebuds coat with the slight twang of metal, gruff. 

You’re slapping at his cushy pecs and thrashing at the wide-wide-wide stretch. Even he was fucking losing it- long lashes fluttering to fight back from wrenching them shut, mouth agape, throat bobbing. 

Grunting, “C’mon- c’mon now.” Every syllable was punctuated with a harsh drag of his slobbering cock, your drenched panties only pulled to the side n’ at the complete and utter mercy of his pulsing length. His breath hitches when a solid slam! of his hips leaves your pussy spurting out in a scorching hot bucketload of slick.

Thick, sphere-shaped ends of his fingers dig underneath your underwear and reach back to give your leaking cunt a quick snap! “T-take it alllll up f’me, gorgeous. Tha’s right.”

And the sheer stretch is so good, carnally itching each inch and ounce of space inside you. The crowned cap of Geto’s boated tip makes your nails claw all dooooown his prominently muscled shoulders. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Suguru–”

“S’that all ya hafta say?” With a quick roll of his hazed amethyst eyes, he’s snatching one of your wrists to trek up to his clammy throat. Sticking your palm over, he’s making sure your nails dig cutely into his skin. And through the glued cracks of your eyelids, you think you see his lips glisten with drool. “Choke me a lil’ don’t be ngh- shy–”

Geto’s slender hand pops out with so many decorative veins once he’s making you tighten your clingy arms. 

The curled tip of rose-pink tongue flops out between the slobbered crevice of your lips, and he’s slouching languidly to pound you on his vulgar length. A rocking back n’ forth that spearheads all the way from his bulbous dripping head to the neat tufts of his happy trail.

Having his own way with you, sliding that heavy cylindrical weight inside as you spill out in pitchy whines. 

Not too fast - something laaaaazy and sensual that leaves you counting every ruthless inch. One. two. Three. Seven. Nine- 

“Sh-shit, s’too much–” You’re crying out, your lips warbling out the cutest sobs. Geto’s long, inky hair softly tickles the sides of your face as he leans down ever-closer. Letting you scratch and bruise allll that you pleased. 

“Yeah? Yeah? Take it- take it all out on me, girl.” He’s snickering out, thwacking the curvaceous edges of his digits to make your fingernails leave pretty crescents on his heated flesh. A bright, burning blush breezes over his skin at the feeling of you caressing him from the inside. “Mmm- Lemme feel ya squeeze- lemme feel it.”

So pretty the way both sets of your lips were gleaming in a burnished sheen of sap, dangling out of your entrance in slippery ribbons. 

Honestly, you’re pulsating so hard that the throb of your fluttering folds was visible to his greedy eyes. With a sleek, quirked brow, he nudges away your sappy lips and pinches your puffed-up clit. 

Oh, you gasp.

Such a tease. Rubbing on your clit, Geto’s egging you on with every thundering slam. Just the skidding crown of his shaft leaving simpering smooches all underneath your g-spot. He was long enough that even a slight inch too deep leaves a battered crater up against your spongy cervix, blushing red tip overspilling so many copious globs of pre. 

Again and again.

“Harder.” 

“Wh-what if I choke you-”

“Harder.”

His half-lidded eyes flash when the inner sides of your thighs twitch, breaths lilting unsteadily airier in a way that was so telling. You were about to cum from just his sheer size.

And as adorable as that was, Geto had something else on his mind.

Your mouth pants out a sugary puff of air when you’re manhandled in nothing but seconds. Head spinning with comical stars when he’s flipping the two of you over to rest the globes of your ass on his sharply jutted v-line. Plump clit dragging all over the wiry hair on Geto’s base. 

Body shuddering as if you couldn’t believe just how deeply plunged he was, the raised circle of his geysering orifice houndin’ your cervix. It’s all you can do to focus your glassy peripherals on his sweetly flushed face. 

“Now…” Words coming out labored and loving– Geto guides your hands to squeeze his pretty neck tight. “Choke me wh-while you ride this biiig fuckin’ cock, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Be humble?!

“Ch-Chooooso–!” Your spit-glued lips flap stupidly with each n’ every nudging inch your sweet, sweet boyfriend was slipping inside of you. Sloooowly, so that you’re seeing stars on every thick, throbbing vein slipping past your slit. Sensually opening up spots you didn’t even know existed. 

Honestly, he wasn’t even halfway in and yet he had you seeing stars- “More. More, baby.”

And Choso? Oh, it was brutal.

The very moment that shrilling whisper departs from your pretty mouth, his parched Adam’s apple cracks with a whine. Clinging on helplessly to the side of your quivering hips with a massively clammy palm, he watches up through half-lidded eyes while you take him vulgarly good in this mating press.

Every squelch after squelch after squelch making his mushy brain oversaturated with only the thought of you and that sloppy, sloppy pussy.

A wet trickle of saliva starts up from the cherry-red corners of his lips, “Ohhh, you’re so wet.” Practically swallowing every thrust. “Am- Am I really that haaaah! big, baby?”

Was that even a question?

Damn near nine- maybe even ten whole inches that snagged at your most tender orifices without even trying. Every sharp plap! of Choso’s rutting pelvis swerving into yours left you dumbfounded, with only the slightest push of his thickly capped tip pokin’ your g-spot. So wide that your mouth was dropping into the same pathetic ‘o’ your pussy was being stretched out into. 

And he was so messy with it, too - honestly, you didn’t know if you were soaked through more because of your sappy wetness or because of the way that his ruby-red cockhead was drenching you from the inside out in such syrupy globs of pre. 

It’s sticking the inners of your trembly thighs together like adhesive, spattering out a few beaded speckles once your body comes slamming up to Choso’s. 

“I-it is.” You don’t even have to fake the way your voice shatters, a whiny little pitch that fills his vibrating eardrums like his favorite song. 

His massive hand digs even tighter on your waist, holding you almost midair so that your perked clit was gyrating deliciously against the scratchy texture of his dark happy trail. Frolicking to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. “I-is it really?”

“Yes- yes, Cho—! C-can feel you so ngh- deep inside…” Your watery pupils sprint dartingly towards the backs of your eyes, “Wan’ you even deeper.”

Fuck- a steamy batch of even more precum dribbles inside your snug cunt, so much of it that Choso has to drag his thumb between your slivery slit. Scooping up a few wadded webs from your puffy folds to plug inside your mouth-

“Don’t- don’t s-say that! Don’t talk like that-” Preeeeessing down on you with all his bulking, toned weight to make you shut up. He’s huffin’ in scorched pants against your headlessly wheezing lips, the scratchy texture of his cute tongue coming down to flick at the drool seeping endlessly out of you. “-s’g–gonna make me cum. Gonna make me…”

Choso was so fucking pretty that you’re distracted for a good few seconds.

All dampened, mahogany hair and doe-eyes that peered down at you shyly. The very bridge of his button nose crinkles once he feels your intense gaze on him, cheekbones staining with a blossoming red blush all the way from the very tips of his ears. He was hot. 

And before you can even blink your tear-glittered lashes, you’re being flipped over with only a fraction of Choso’s true strength. So that you’re on top of him.

Both groaning in carnal unison- did his length somehow bloat even bigger? You swear you’re feeling him bully a few more moistened inches past the rubbery ring of your entrance, tugging open your gummy walls. 

“T-tell me how big again–?” Slightly smug streak showing off. 

“So- oh!”

The plush mattress rickets out soft creaks! as his sculptured abdomen pushes upwards against your tight channel. Again. And again. And again and again- “Keep talkin’, baby. Wanna fit it- wanna- need ta fit it all–”

Your hands sprawl out precariously on top of his tensing core, smearing over the sheeny gloss of sweat on his pecs. Gasping swiftly, “Ch-Choso- nghhh- what-” Promptly, your spine arches into the perfect curvature on top of him, crashing your mouth into his. “What- hngh- tell me what you want, baby–?”

Oh, Choso’s almost too busy suckling on your kiss-bitten lips like his favorite candy to answer. Leaving a cloying stain of spittle behind, he’s slouching back into a sexy stance against the pillows. All eyes on you. “C-can do that- that lil’ thing with your ngh- chips, baby? Wan’ you to ride me hard.”

And how could you deny him when he was boring dead-on up at you with fawny heart-pupils like that?

“You meannnn— this?”

Geering yourself up, you’re immediately motioning your hips into the most lecherous figure eight that leaves Choso slobbering - from both fountaining divots. All the way from his simmering, drool-flooded tastebuds to that innocently strawberry-pink aperture he’s streaming out of.

Filling your tender nooks n’ crannies with so much dewy seed, his meaty thighs are splaying open like a slut so you can curve your hips into more rounded circles. Swabbing the pounding ba-dump-! of his pulsing cock ‘round and ‘round, your heart lurches to your throat when he’s tap-tap-tapping the firm ridge of his mushroomed tip on your bruised g-spot. 

Almost like…a little warning. 

A warning before Choso grabs a fistful of your slam-impacted ass and pulling you to him. Finally, finally bottoming out.

From what sounds like far off in the distance - at least to your popped ears - lets out a strained rasp. “...swallowing me. Ngh! Swallowing allll of me, my girl.” Breathless. Broken. Octaves higher, like Choso himself couldn’t believe. 

“Th-thank you-” And all you could see of his pretty eyes right now was pure white, he was in heaven. His upper lip coating with a fresh wave of perspiration, he was practically melting into you right now. Mouth parting at the clingy strands of his own cum simply pouring out of you. “Thank you- thank you thank you thank you— nghh–”

“S’cute, Cho–” He twitches rawly when you loll your head down to sneak a peck near the edge of his mouth.

“S’embarrassing…” And you’re feeling his fat cock jolt a few more times inside of you, sploshing around in the mess he’s created. Dangerously so. Oh, you knew what that meant. Sparkling eyes locked down on where your pussy was throbbing, Choso’s plump lower lip wobbles as he’s hiccuping out, “Oh…m’gonna make a mess again, baby…”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Big, big, big

“S’not gonna fit like that, ma.” The king of curses has the audacity to roll his devilish eyes at the sight of your pitifully trembling legs, clawing a hand down your sheeny glossed inner thighs with a snicker. “Ya gotta hold ‘em up nice and hah- wide-”

Whining, your calves burn. “Like this?”

“Wider if yer gonna take me.”

Honestly, this full nelson was the absolute meanest you’ve ever been put into - and Sukuna was ruthless. 

Not even your whimpering wails was enough to stop him from stretching your drooling pussy out with rounds upon rounds upon rounds. He had stamina till the end of time- and your gummy, cum-slicked walls were simply holding him hostage. 

Frothing out a thick knot of creamy white seed right on top of his matchingly hard cocks, one of Sukuna’s four arms reach down to thumb allll over the mess you were making. Smearing out a polished shine where his rotund tips were bawling, “Why’s this pussy so fuckin’ wet, brat?”

With a stinging slap to your dripping pussymound - and then another one with the front of his monstrous second tongue, you were just about ready to collapse. 

“Honestly–” Sukuna’s cushioned pecs rumble you up n’ down like a bobblehead as he titters, pinning you down with a lil’ choking hand on your tender neck. “-do I hafta teach ya how to k-keep it inside?”

“Fuh-fuuuuck–!” The dreamy sighs of your moans increase tenfold once you’re mercilessly facing the steady lap of his tongue. His massive tongue. The one split open where Sukuna’s washboard abs were slickly glissading behind you, monstrously letting your cunt gush and pour down his second throat. 

So filthy. 

And Ryomen Sukuna knows he could make swift work with your milky pussy, he knows he could save you your embarrassment of hearing those raw squelch-squelch-squelches! every time the plummy hill of his tongue was flopping back n’ forth down your silvery slit. 

But where was the fun in that?

Instead, he’s bouncing his incredibly meaty thighs to jostle your helpless body up further. Sneering, “Keh- making such a mess of things, brat. N’ I’m the one ta clean it up.” You swear you’re feeling both sets of his mouths grin at the glue-like coating slipping between your legs. “Ya know what this means?”

It takes you a few seconds to pronounce your gasps out through the globs of spittle watering your mouth, “Wh-what?”

“Now I hafta ngh- fill this cute cunt up again.”

But Sukuna didn’t sound sad about that fact.

No, the exact fucking opposite. He was delighted to feel the way your aroused dribble slips out in a steady waterfall at the round, stout crowns of his cocks break past your first snug ring of muscle. Pushing and pushing and pushing.

“S’that what you want, human?” He coos hoarsely from behind, so fucking big - all of him. Simply towering underneath you to manhandle you into every pliable position possible. 

One of Sukuna’s pink-tipped nipples grazes your mouth and before you know it, you find yourself sucking. Tongue sloshing out such fat wads of spit that it leaves your throat feeling oh-so-parched, “Shiiiit- Ya got e-even wetter, dirty lil’ thing. Look at how she’s droolin’ f’me.”

Drooling was an understatement. 

Your cunt was practically flooding in translucent bucketloads of silvery slick- and another hot load leaks out of you that Sukuna swipes a thumb down, popping it swiftly into his mouth. 

So caught up in the simmering heat of his skin and his saccharine taste that you don’t even realize it - anything - before Sukuna’s splitting you apart once more.

Grunting, “Oi oi- watch the goods.”

Your hand reaches out somewhere, anywhere– and ends up clawing red, red lines across his tattooed shoulders. “P-please.” You’re babbling out stupidly, head fizzing into empty cotton at the red n’ swollen cocks stuffing inside you. Deep inside. Sukuna’s overspilling divots scrape against the tender spots embedded into your walls and leaving you sobbing.

“Loud girl.” 

Splat! Your mouth crashes against his palm in a gentle cupping - and not just his palm, Sukuna’s second cursed mouth that had manifested its way expressly to make out with your kiss-bitten lips. 

Lecherous mouth parting yours to roam over n’ over into every nook and cranny, his tongue was just savoring your taste like a gummy. Your driveling sap leaving the mountain of his palm glued to your chin, Sukuna chortles, feeling the treacly splats of saliva. Hot. “Wanna hear her, m’kay, ma? Her.”

Another bulky few inches of his fattened lengths, so big that every throb leaves your body jerking helplessly. Bucking and bucking - every striking pap! just to fit inside. 

Sukuna was so inhumanly big - both of his cocks so achingly hard it’s as if they were made out of diamonds. Stacked right one on top of the other and sagging your poor cunt with the sheer weight of him. 

As if he stretches on for miiiiles before your tear-dropped gaze catches sight of those sexy black rings tattooed around Sukuna’s bases. Barely even visible underneath the frosty white syrupy of his seed sploshing at your womb. 

Every tiny slip n’ slide makes his slick lengths rub deliciously against one another, stretching you out wiiiidely. The fat spherical curves of his cockhead pull you tautly open until you’re speechless. He didn’t even need to try to leave your tummy bloated with the cylindrical bumps of his twin, swollen cocks. “Awww, look at that lil’ ngh! Bulge.”

Caressing a thickened pad of one set of fingers over where he was filling you up ridiculously, pressing down. Hard. “Kuna-”

“Hmm- say the magic word. Beg a lil’ more f’me.”

Your jittery legs are pushing back and he’s dragging you back down. It always did make him groan just how much you could take, stoppin’ you from running your pretty self away. “Please!”

Sloppily jerking until with a final, heaving rut- he’s bottoming out.

“Please- please please please–” The caps of your knees hit your tits while Sukuna splays you out sluttily, blinking down eagerly at the way your crevice gulps him till the very end. Overstuffed. “Fuck me- ngh! Fuck me, Kuna–”

“Oh- m’not just gonna fuck you, spoiled brat–” He’s biting down on his lip, feeling the way your sloppy pussy clenches in surprise once the textured edge of his second mouth once more tickles your outer folds. And you gasp–

“Whaaaat?” Sukuna drawls, dangerous. Pussydrunk- enough that you’re sure his next few sloppy syllables come out a whine. “M’hungry, ma. N’ you’re the sweetest lil’ desert.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “Sh-shut up…”

And not even Ino’s desperate tug ‘round his sweat-tinted ski mask could hide away the feverish blush cascading across his face. Growing ever-redder whilst he snaps off the last few dampened remnants of his condom.

Broken.

Your mouth waters with something hotly simmering as you take in the entire sight of his ruby-red tip, as plump n’ wet as a popsicle - and just as sweet, you’re sure. Now, Ino was big– prettily thick enough to leave your cunt throbbing, with veins for daaays decorating his length. 

Throb-throb-throbbing merely at the thought of you. 

And the only thing more irresistible than his fat, swollen cock was the boy himself in all his pussydrunken glory. 

Your tone dips with something sensual, thick whilst the words depart from your ajar maw. “Baby– show me your face.” You’re perking your hips up to his, drawing looong slippery glides down his perfectly ridged length. “C’mon, Taku–”

The tawny edges of his bangs fray out, almost curtaining his dewy, half-lidded eyes. Ino leaves a staccato of thwack! thwack! thwacks! right over the saturated slope of your pussy. Spit-dribbled lips parting with need, “Sh-shhhh. M’gonna hah- cum from jus’ that pretty voice, sweetness.”

You’re almost left speechless at the utterly vulgar slurps emanating from down under, just the crowned tip of his maddening length teasing your sloppy entrance. Your rubbery hole catches on his globe-shaped cockhead and you almost keen—

“Oh, Taku—” Your voice warbles out prettily, trilling with the type of pout you knew would make his heart race. “Wan’ you to give it t’me- don’t be shy, please, baby.”

The only indication that your poor boyfriend had heard you was the pink flush breezing all over the tip of his ears to the back of his neck. And Ino sinks the pearly white edges of his teeth into his lower lip, a thin trail of sweat beading down his temple. 

Pumping his hips in a sultry back n’ forth, the tip-top of his streaming divot spurts out the most lecherous globs of pre that drip between your slit. Down, down, down.

Greedy hands sliding underneath his mask, pulling it off- “Pl- mmpf!”

He couldn’t handle another beg from your gorgeous, gorgeous mouth. Couldn’t handle another second of you drooling from both puffy lips in need of his fat cock. 

Before you can even let out the final few syllables of your finishing blow, Ino sticks his hands into an interlacing crown on top of your sweaty scalp and pushes you down. Teasingly slow so that you’re crying out on every zig-zagging vein scratching your magical insides, the plummy ends of his base leaving your tender pussymound stinging with his chesnut happy trail. 

Pushing and pushing, every thickly bludgeoning inch leaves you slobbering. Your hazy irises running away alllll the way towards the deep, dark depths of your eyelids at the feeling of him probing. 

And when it rains– it pours. 

Just a single inch - not even halfway inside your fountaining orifice and Ino finds himself gone. Long lashes flapping, spit-slicked mouth gawking, fuck- even his poor thighs were trembling with every suckling slip you’re swallowing up.

“Oh…oh.” Comes out Ino’s labored breaths, the plumpness of his lips dragging mindlessly across your cheek. Huff! huff! huff! comes out his steaming pants, voice croaking. “Th-think I’m…in love-”

Smearing your shaky legs further apart, the circles of Ino’s eyes dart down to watch every. single. second of the way your swollen pussylips were quivering around his proud cylindrical circumference. Aroused. 

“T-Taku.” You whisper, and the man flinches. Moving in a flurry - moving all at once to shrug off his ski mask completely and watch you.

Almost as if on autopilot, the doughy tips of his digits dart down to your clit. Tender. Worshipping. Drawing the most filthy circles right over where your hooded peak was the utmost sensitive- you swear you even catch him scooping up a few wadded knots of your juicy slick and slipping them into his mouth.

The blacks of his pupils dilate once a deepening push has your snug ring of muscle resisting - his wide girth so fucking big that you’re still struggling to take him. Oh, somewhere along your sap-flooded walls, you feel his bulbous head starting pulsing. 

“Go inside.” Ino strains out - still not looking at you, still not even breathing. “Go inside go inside go- please-” His melodic baritone cracks after every rut, every massage of his toned abdomen tensing over yours. Fingers faster, yearning. “K-keep your legs held up f’me, pretty- c’mon–”

Your limbs are trembling, aching at the stinging slams he was pouncing on you. Battering away. The only thing flitting about your mind being the raw stretch and Ino’s “-pleasepleaseplease. Take it.”

And once you do - once with a good few vulgar strokes, he bottoms out - Ino thinks he’s seeing heaven. The fringes of his fingertips twitching on your sensitive nub, making you see stars. 

A fog of sweltering groans escapes him, toned chest glittering with a few specks of sweat as he heaves. As he hunches his shuddering body over and bucks–

“Sh-shiiiit, Taku–!” Your jaw drops into the prettiest lil’ oh! Hips raising a few centimeters off of your creaky bedsprings with sheer force because Ino was fucking into you rough. “It’s good- so good s-sooo—”

“Yeah? Yeah?”

Something in Ino’s voice was taking a high lilt, crazed. And your eyes shutter at the slow buzzing sensation of cursed energy leaking from his fingerpads. Possibly to stop the two of you from breaking bones.

You’re gurgling out, “You’re so pretty Taku–”

Suddenly, his round tip swabs the doorway to your womb pointedly. Swiping a generous dollop of creamy pre, and Ino’s breath catches. Feeling the heated mess he’s making inside, wanting to make more. The clingy center of his palm touches right over the middle of your tummy, pushing down. “I love you.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - STRONGEST

You knew you shouldn’t have let Gojo Satoru hear about this lil’ thing called a…mating press. You knew you shouldn’t have painted a sinful enough picture that the strongest lost his goddamn mind. 

Pretty cerulean eyes flashing with something primal before he promptly threw you over his shoulder and fucking teleported to your bedroom nearby. After that it was lights out for you– or, at least, it was hours and hours ago. 

His slightly-trimmed happy trail drenched until the snowy white’s almost turning into a faint purple, the length of his ravaged n’ raw aching cock still jackhammers away in overstimulated little rocks against your hips. 

Over and over Gojo’s reaching magical orifices you never knew possible. So biiiig that each thrust feels like an eon, dragging dragging dragging all the way from his blossomed red tip to his massively bulged hilt. Ridiculously wide.

Fat wads of knotted cum clinging onto the tender underside of his blushing shaft, he’s positively ruining you from the inside out. Stirring your goopy insides about with every maddened slam! his vicious pace, the pinpricked divot right on the middle of his globed mushroom tip stings with how hard he’s plapping into you.  

“Please- p-please–” Your eyes crinkling with adorable beads of tears that sparkle in the dim lighting- in the way Gojo’s own gaze glows with bolts of blue, blue lightning. “S’fuckin’ good, Toru—”

And not even that lil’ nickname of yours makes Gojo move- doesn’t even make him falter like he usually would. As if he was in a trance. 

Plunging and plunging the barrelling inches of his girthy length until all gusts of air whoosh from your panting lungs. He weighs his towering, sheened body over your own and presses down, thumbing away your sap-glued folds with a squelching sluuurp to help you take him all in. 

“Gotta- gotta get you-” Comes out his crackling voice, raspy. Broken enough that it’s almost a growl - he’s set off and he won’t stop. “Gotta get you- need to get you-”

“Get- get me what–” You’re gurgling out, even though you already had a fuzzy inkling about the answer. 

“Gotta get you…” He’s trailing off, mellifluous voice withering away into nothing when a hand drifts over your tummy. Where a luscious little bump was formulating, where it was growing ever-rounder n’ rounder with every splosh of buttery pre being pumped into you. Oh. 

There’s a leaden ball permanently homing itself in Gojo’s bobbing throat like he couldn’t even begin to finish his sultry sentences. Simply letting them waft over the clam-struck crook of your neck right along with spattering sprays of perspiration. 

And tears. Oh, were there tears.

Your lovely boyfriend’s pretty peripherals were just glossed over with so many countless layers of water, salted caramel tears striking your features after every whacking slap!

So wide that even your unfastened maw couldn’t open into a sweetly innocent ‘o’ as girthy as that of your slick-pouring hole. Rubbery ring stretched out soooo fucking wide that those brutal bucks made you overspill with Gojo’s soppy white cum.

Gasping. Heaving from the deepest depths of his chiseled chest, “C’mon- in- in in in—”

Struggling to fit him in with all your sappy stuffing. 

“N-noooo s’leaking…” Your whining whimpers reach his popped eardrums and make the strongest jolt, like he’d just been struck by a thousand different voltages. Blearily, his pupils escape from the backs of his heavy lids and rest - unfocused - on your fucked-out face. You pout, “-s’wasting.”

And Gojo’s eyes sliiiide sluggishly down to where your pretty pussy was leaking, drooling with an ivory fountain of seed. And then allll the way back to your hazed heart-eyes. Oh. 

You were fucked. 

It all happens in a singular bat of your tear-stuck lashes- in one nanosecond, Gojo’s soundlessly rovering his elongated fingers to scope between your dampened thighs and casting a miniature limitless. Plugging you up until those sloshing ribbons of cum were ceased right behind your geysering entrance. 

Full. 

“Now s’in-” Gojo gapes, and somewhere along the way you’re registering that his softened palm on your tummy is simmering out steam. Powerful. A scorched burn of a blush invading his handsome cheeks- “Now for her- her-” The hand toying with your pussymound slips a singular fingerpad inside to stretch you wiiiide open- “-need inside. Inside.”

Pounding and pounding, the velvety hug of your pussy was so tight that every swollen, red inch inside let off the most lecherous squelches. Your pupils swirl in stupid circles, “Inside- w-wan’ it all inside, Satoru.”

Gojo’s pace was starting to sound like rapid clapping, the smell of powerful ozone and sex clinging onto him by the time he bumps his sweat-matted forehead into yours. 

Whispering from the guttural back of his rusty throat, “You can do- you can you can d-do it, sweetheart.” It’s just about the first coherent sentence he’s let off in hours now, unable to even speak unless he wants to exert himself- or cum.

The fringe of his pasty end of his thumb sticks like adhesive against your pussy and lets himself plunge in ever-deeper. “Take it. Take it, please.” Rumbling baritone breaking. A crooked smile twists his cherry-red lips, crazed. “Gotta get you pregnant, my girl.”

It was a promise - and Gojo Satoru was a man of his word. 

A steaming cloud of moans depart from your bruised lips when Gojo circles his motioning hips back just enough- enough to angle out a direct whack to your cervix and hit it. Bottoming all out. 

The stretch was astronomical now that his tender ballsack was up n’ personal with the treacly base of your cunt, twitching the very moment a surprised bout of slick seeps through his limitless and drenches him. And you’re simply mewling at the texture of his tiny white curls tickling your clit. 

Swirlin’ the shivering tip of his shaft until he’s thoroughly massaging all your sweetest spots, mapped out. Though, the way that a ring of cursed energy circles Gojo’s sapphire irises makes you think he’s using his power without even realizing. 

Without even thinking. Without even breathing– nothing but a low mutter of “Get pregnant- get- get pregnant.” Burning fingertips smearing your legs open wider, “Need it- want it- gotta breed- fuck! Gotta get- pregnant-”

Your knees slap the mounds of your tits, back arching helplessly against your coiled mattress springs- and you swear a few were breaking through the silken sheets. Tattered. “Give it- fuck fuuuuck–”

Filthy, desperate probes. 

You didn’t know who was more gone - you or him.

He’s just so hot that he’s practically burning. Feverish all the way from the simmering sizzle of skin pressed up against your skin, and the furious tip on his massively tunneling length. Red hot. Simply melting.

Hooded eyes locked on your bulging pussylips, his swallowed-up digits give a firm sort of spank just to confirm. Just to make sure his saccharine mind wasn’t dreaming. 

“It’s in–” he breathes out, overworking heart thud-thud-thudding against your chest whilst he still failed to catch his breath. A silvery globule of spit dribbles from Gojo’s hanging maw to yours, wrenched shut by one of his firm hands so you can swallow. “-all in. All mine. Mine t-t’get you pregnant, my girl.”

And this is where the real fun was about to start.

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Rodeo Romeo!

Higuruma wasn’t just big - he was massive. 

He was thrusting the knobbled globe of his cock past your gluey, glutinous lips and watching with a slight blush as you whiiiine. Your spit slicking out in thin ribbons each n’ every time he dips his rounded mushroom tip in a deep push into your mushy depths. 

So springy, even the slightest recoil leaves you aching for more– stringing out pearly beads of slick. He’s just so plump that you can feel his dribbling orifice cushion your g-spots with repeated blows. Again and again.

Until your knuckles pull taut against the edge of his office desk– right where your husband’s laptop was open on a partly-muted work call only mere inches away.

It’d taken about an hour - an hour of cockwarming and teasing and driving the stoic man wild until he’d crushed that button to turn the camera off and immediately plugged you stupidly full. Just like you’d wanted.

“Ya got it, angel.” Higuruma lets off gruff whispers against one of your ears, snickering to himself at the way his scorched hot breaths make your skin erupt in goosebumps. The wiry frames of his work glasses press up against your tender throat- frigid plastic steaming cold. “S’good, hm?”

So intimate - even though your buzzing eardrums could make out the noises of his colleagues chatting so closely. So lecherously. 

“S-s’good–” you breathe, squirming at the way his fattened balls meeting your plump folds in a loving kiss hello. You lurch at the slight wet plop! of his battering cock sinking even deeper inside of you. “So good, Hiromi.”

His fatly padded thumb draws sensual circles where your hips are hitting at a stinging pace, “Yeahhh? Why don’tcha r-ride it then, sugar?” 

Oh, your weakened knees are on the very verge of collapsing simply at the thought. Thighs shaking lewdly as your body moves before your hazed mind, a clingy film of tears glossing over your eyes once your ass settles on Higuruma’s manspread lap and pushes–

“H-hck! Hiromi–!” You hiccup- shit. Hands flying up to your leaky mouth to firmly slam it shut- your eyes roll to the back of your head at the warm splatters of drool that seep into your doughy palm.

“S’okay- s’okaaaay–” Higuruma croons from behind, the forefront of his abs tensing sexily as he’s bucking off the chair from behind to meet your sloppy cadence. Long n’ swollen cock prying your sticky walls apart until any and every thought of the work meeting flits from your mind. 

He’s probin’ his most prominent vein up against your bulging g-spot, hips angling to massage in exactly how you loved it. How you loved this biiig stretch. “No one’s gonna know.”

Your tear-stained head raises blearily up at him, “Wh-what?”

“No one’s gonna ngh- know, angel.” Nodding his head towards where the call was muted and had the camera off. You’re arched so perfectly on his thick, muscled thighs that Higuruma can’t help but jerk his knees in a slight bounce. 

There’s a rickety creeeak! of his seat as he’s lifting up your ass so that he can take a loooong, proud look. “Oh, look how wet she is.” Pinkish tongue gliding along his lower lip at the sight, “Ride it-” Pausing for just a second to slap the spherical pads of his fingers on your asscheek, “-ride it like it’s y-yours, sugar.”

And you couldn’t stay silent even if you wanted to. 

The sharply spanking slam of your hips back into his was just so sinful, fleshy mounds of your ass jiggling with each impact after impact. Repeatedly. Higuruma’s tufted hair scratches the tender outer edges of your pussy and makes you shrill.

“P-please-” You sound as if you’re on the edge, face burying into your hands- only for them to be ripped away by your husband.

Pecking his soft lips near the edges of your slobbery maw, darting his tongue out to liiiick sultry flops of his tastebuds across your streaky tears. His plump lips suckle ‘round your candied tongue, “Theeeere she is, good girl- good girl. Faster.”

Hands grappling for the table- the blank documents he really should’ve been working on. Your head throws back with a breaking mewl, “Fuck- fuuuuck–”

“Faster now- atta girl.” Brazen dollops of pre trickle down, down, doooown your dewy walls and out from your silvery slit. Higuruma’s thighs twitch with the boiling hot splatters of it hitting his papping limbs– harsh. 

“Ride it- ride this biiiig fuckin’ cock now.”

Harsher and harsher, his cherry-red leaking tip is just probing upwards against your cadence. With a squeeze of your gushing insides that makes him groan, it takes Higuruma a good few seconds to realize that his name is being called from what seems like eons away.

Before you can think - before you can even breathe - his ringed finger comes barreling between your pouring lips. “Shhhh, suck on it.” He gruffs out. Curling that cold wedding back right into the sensitive back of your throat– Higuruma unmutes. 

Something about contracts, something about business that still can’t distract him from how well you were milking every solid inch of him.

And with one hit - two - you’re not just drooling all ‘round his fattened, split-end length- you’re cumming. Sparks of white-hot flashing behind your eyes and making syrupy globules of spittle drip down to his pale wrist. Your body gives a sudden rut- and oh, Higuruma just about loses his mind.

Voice cracking mid-sentence, nostrils flaring, his darkened eyes widen at the realization that you were reaching your highest point already. 

“H-Hiro…” Your barely-audible mewls make Higuruma’s nails claw into the plush of your pretty, pretty thighs. Slamming ‘exit’ on his call as rapidly as humanly possible–

With a wet splosh tuning from between your slapping thighs, your husband’s shoving you into the biting mahogany of his desk and pumping you full of such thick, wadded droplets of cum. Loooong, long ribbons that splash all the way from the buttery puddle on your cervix to where your pussylips were overspilling.

Torrents. He was cumming more than usual, too– gruff tone ripping out of him rawly, “Th-think–” So mean with his cock, you’re ending up reaching your own orgasm probably a few more times at the way he was drilling into you like a beast. “Fuck- fuck, I c-can’t think.”

Sinking himself all balls-deep, you were positively fit to burst. His rugged pace carving out a special lil’ bruise where your spongy pussy ended. Your tummy flutters incredibly with both butterflies and the treacly sap of his cum drip-drip-driiiiping out of you. 

Unbuttoned shirt tracing your sweat-dripped spine, chiseled abs glissading down your skin, his fogged-up glasses were all but toppling off of his flushed cheeks. 

Steamy, flattened tone licking a looong strip from your shoulder to your sagged mouth, Higuruma haphazardly tosses one of his muscular legs on the desk and bucks his ripped front– “M’next assignment’s g-getting this pussy bred, angel.”

A/N. Y’all I think ovulation’s near- ANYWAYS, I hope you have a lovely week <33

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nsfwsouls]

Dew/Sodo

[He's referred to as Dew throughout]

[[This is poorly written. I'm aware.]]

NSFW 🔞 MDNI

• Dewdrop is a cheeky bastard about it.

• "Are you serious? Did you come all the way here to just use me as a heater? Fucking asshole. Fine, come here."

• Would drag you into his room so no one could see him doing it. He grumbles the entire time as he settles behind you. He starts just being all snuggled up with you. His arms wrapped around you, letting the heat soak in and relieve the pain.

• But then he starts getting touchy, hands start wandering, and he grinds into your thigh. He probably grumbles about how he has something better that could relieve more of the pain if you're up for it.

• If you deny, he begrudgingly stops and grumbles about how unfair it is. He's not upset, though, just being a pain. Your comfort comes before his horny brain. Dew does start drawing shapes into your hips.

• But if you accept, he practically shoots up with a massive grin and fire in his eyes. It's not even seconds later that he's tearing your pants and underwear off.

• "Fuck, your cunt is too pretty, even in red."

• He just shoves his pants to his knees. Can't even be bothered to undress himself enough for the activity

• Rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds as a shiver runs through his entire body. His tip just getting coated.

• Barely even teases you before he sinks into your cunt, filling you up. It's so warm. Like a heating pad directly hitting all the aches.

• Dew is agonizingly slow at first. Whether that's for you or because he's soaking in the feeling of how slick it is, who knows?

• Though he quickly starts picking up the pace. Grinding himself deep, letting you soak up his warmth.

• Takes his sweet time. Alternating between thrusting deep and just dragging slowly inside. Teasing you.

• He groans at the particularly wet noises that come between the two of you. Finding it so hot and it turns him on more.

• His thighs and pelvis are coated. And he's not mad about it one bit.

Thinking about fire ghouls and assisting with period pains

[thewickedspinster]

Of Eternity (Thranduil x Reader)

pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

synopsis: Thranduil and Y/N know each other from what seems like a past life; one that both would rather forget. Once secret lovers, hidden from the prying eyes of the Elvenking's court, the two elves' disagreements became too much, their opinions too divided. Y/N departed for Rivendell and sought shelter with her friend, Elrond. But when the Elvenking of Mirkwood comes to parlay with the Lord of Rivendell, he once again meets Y/N, and someone else who looks awfully familiar...

warnings: afab!Reader, pregnancy, elf children, war

Tathrenion = son of one willow-made

requested by @starlight5cat

Of Eternity

In Rivendell, the seasons turned as flowers bloomed; with a sudden burst of color against the greys of winter. They came and went quickly for elvenkind, rising and eddying like the tide, and with them came new wonders and sounds, new flavors. Song.

Y/N could hardly remember a time when her life was not dictated by these rhythms, when time was so magnified as to hear her own heartbeat, to watch the sunlight catch upon a dewdrop. Though, it was not so long ago she was in a place where seasons hardly touched, where time stood still and light lingered in honeyed moments. Where her breath raced in her body, and youth stretched into eternity. Where naïveté was all too familiar.

Here, she had more responsibility. Here, she was unequivocally welcome. When she had fled the confines of her life before in Mirkwood, where she had been daughter of a Ñoldor house descended from Fingolfin, and gone westward into the Misty Mountains, she had only hoped her old friend, Elrond, would grant her sanctuary. He welcomed her with open arms. Here, she sat on his council of advisors. Here, life was warm and full of light once more.

For a short time of twenty-odd years, there was peace east of the Misty Mountains. Though her cousin Galadriel could not believe it, it had appeared the dark servant of Morgoth named Sauron had been vanquished. The grey elves lived in peace with the sons of Durin and helped the wayward man, but kept to their forests and their mountains. All had seemed well, and with the protection of the haven of Rivendell, the darkness of old seemed unable to touch her.

Such comforts cannot last. Not so long as Morgoth and his fell creations plagued Arda.

As soon as word reached Rivendell of a darkness fallen upon southern Mirkwood, Elrond sought Y/N's counsel.

"You know the eastern forests well," Elrond said softly, guiding them both down towards the river. Water fell in a gentle curtain of silver ahead, glinting in the moonlight. "What sort of evil could cause these things?"

The pair ducked behind the waterfall, and the sound of rushing water hushed their voices. There hidden was an alcove, large enough for a small group, with cushions surrounding the burnt-out embers of a fire. Elrond had come here often in the early days of ruling Rivendell, and when Y/N had arrived, had brought her here in her most vulnerable moments.

"The Elvenking's Halls are to the north, but in my many wanderings, I went south," she answered, settling on the floor alongside Elrond. "Mirkwood is vast and its creatures untold, but I have never seen anything that would produce this sort of rot."

Elrond hummed, deep in thought. Elven and human messengers alike had been passing along rumors of dark creatures in the southern Mirkwood, things that walked on more than four legs, with slavering maws and the stench of evil surrounding them. Elves who more often ventured south returned with harrowing stories of voices, of song coming from the dark trees. The canopies had grown so thick that sunlight hardly reached the ground. Some had even reported sightings of Orcs.

"You know what this means," Y/N said, interrupting Elrond's reverie. "Galadriel was right. She was always right. We cannot know that Sauron is vanquished. We burned no body. Isildur brought no head. Only the Silmaril."

"There are no credible rumors of Morgoth's creatures, Y/N."

"There are," she insisted. "They have started calling this force 'The Necromancer.' This is no coincidence, Elrond. All evil in these lands comes back to Sauron. To Morgoth. So long as their discord remains, none of the children of Eru are safe."

Beyond his red head, with his noble face, the silvered water fell in sheets, dulling to a gentle sheaving. Waiting. When he raised his gaze, he said, "What would you have me do?"

Galadriel would have them go to war. Though she had grown less brash since the last age, she had grown no less desperate for Sauron's defeat. But Rivendell was a haven, a place of peace for wandering elves. She could not see amassing forces and marching to Mirkwood unaided. Besides, it was not Elrond's territory to march on.

"You know exactly what you must do, my friend," she said at last.

"You do not like him."

"What of it?"

"He is the reason you fled your home."

It was true enough, though it still gave Y/N pause. Mirkwood had been a home for long centuries, it was true. But before that, she had known the lushness of Beleriand, and the glory of Númenor. She would always be a wanderer. But the Elvenking of Mirkwood brought with him memories too fresh to be painless.

"He is the lord of Mirkwood, and should you wish to do anything at all about this rising evil, you must first confer with him," she said firmly. "Invite him here. Invite his entire court. They will leave Prince Legolas to guard the north, but Thranduil will come."

"I would have you by my side upon his reception."

Y/N caught the glimmer of ancient mischief in Elrond's eyes, and offered him a faint smile in return. "It would be an honor."

~~~

Word came within a fortnight that the Elvenking's party would embark on the Elf-path by the full moon. This gave the people of Rivendell little time to prepare, but showed Elrond and his council how dire circumstances were in Mirkwood.

As Y/N stood at Elrond's side on the dais before the sweeping steps to the city, she knew that in this matter, as all others, that Thranduil would be stubborn, cunning, and seemingly omniscient. It was in his power as king to appear so to his people. But Y/N, he could not fool. She and Elrond would simply need maneuver with tact, to force Thranduil into showing his hand.

In the distance, the royal traveling party rounded a bend and came into view, the Elvenking in his raiment of grey and silver astride his great antlered steed. From here, Y/N could feel his piercing gaze upon them, focusing on her at the Lord of Rivendell's side. Robed in rich, dark green against Elrond's golden raiment, Y/N stood tall. A circlet of gold sat upon her brow, and in it, an opal enshrined. Befitting of her station, she stood to Elrond's left, his wife Celebrían to his right.

Y/N had known true fear in the face of evil, yet facing the Elvenking of Mirkwood after these twenty years turned her chest cold. She could never fear him - she knew him too well, but that was just the problem. They shared a deep past of friendship, of love, forbidden though it may have been. And pain, at the last. Since their parting, she had, for the first time, lived many secrets that she kept from him still.

The party finally arrived at the dais, the great reindeer's feet clapping against the stone as thunder. The Elvenking dismounted, stepped before Elrond, and inclined his head.

"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, you honor me with your great hospitality," he said formally, the Sindarin tongue rolling like quicksilver from his mouth. "And Lady Celebrían, thank you for welcoming my host into your household."

Elrond, Y/N, and the council assembled bowed to the king.

"We are pleased you answered our invitation," Elrond replied, his tone, as ever, one of deliberate lightness, as if he knew something no one else did. "How long shall you stay?"

"A week," Thranduil said shortly. Finally, finally, his silvered eyes shifted to Y/N. She breathed in deeply. "There are matters to attend to in Mirkwood."

"I do hope Prince Legolas is well," she said softly, smoothly.

Thranduil looked momentarily surprised she'd spoken, his eyebrows drawing together at the sound of her voice. "He is taking to his responsibilities well."

A moment of silence passed. The river roared below. Then, Celebrían was taking gesturing towards the king, leading him away into the great wood house of Rivendell.

Formal greetings complete, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersed, and elves moved swiftly in preparation for the feast prepared in the king's honor. Soon, only Elrond and Y/N remained. She watched the sun setting over the vale, eyes fixed on the rushing waters surrounding.

"Will you tell him?" Elrond asked, voice so quiet only she could hear.

"How could I?" Y/N whispered. She felt her fingers tremble.

"It is unfair to -"

"You shall not tell me what is fair or unfair, Elrond," Y/N whirled, suddenly furious. "You know not what it is to have my fears."

Elrond held up his hands. "I only wish to say that truths are better spoken. Deception is the chaos-sower."

"It will put him in danger."

"It will give him power."

"A curse," she hissed. "A bounty upon his head."

"Or a crown."

She stared at her friend, stunned. "You do not mean that."

Elrond only watched her in return.

With no words left between them, Y/N turned and disappeared into the house, bracing herself for the week to come.

~~~

It was the fourth day of the accursed sessions of counsel, and Thranduil had still not admitted there being any disturbance in Mirkwood. He spoke on matters of trade, of agriculture, of relations with Khazad-Dûn, but nothing of the murmurs from the Sutherlands.

Y/N was beginning to lose her patience.

Elrond, blessedly, had more of it to spare. Ever the diplomat, he listened to Thranduil's concerns and complaints of their relations, and constructed plans to fix them. Ever the master of compromise, he kept Rivendell's secrecy and best interests at heard. Ever the more patient of the two, he kept prodding the Elvenking towards revealing his secrets, to no avail.

Y/N sat, posture relaxed, around the dais at the center of Elrond's pubic chambers. The elves around her deliberated, debated, while she kept her mouth closed. As Elrond's chief advisor, her primary duty was to listen. She interjected when Elrond looked to her, and when someone said something entirely ludicrous. Elves tended to take a laboriously long time to come to any sort of agreement in politics, and were reasonable to the point of boredom. Y/N's engagement had thus far been minimal, though she heard all.

They had turned to the topic of weapons, and of Rivendell's protection. They were inching closer to the topic at hand, but she knew Thranduil had a deep well of patience, particularly when it came to dealing with elves. The high noon sun blazed down on the white marble.

"How have you fared in the training of your ranks?" Thranduil inquired, sipping at a goblet of honeywine.

"The archers excel, under the tutelage of Sindarin masters," Elrond said. "The swordsmen, under that of the Ñoldor. Khazad-Dûn has agreed to provide us with weapon designs, and with materials to forge them. Durin is all too happy to help an old friend."

Thranduil scoffed lightly into his cup. "Old friend, indeed."

Y/N sat up straighter at the tone, the scoff. She had heard it many times. "Prince Durin has provided us with an excellent relationship over the years. He is a close friend to Rivendell."

Thranduil looked at her, through her, in her. Before her mind's eye flashed his face, poised over her, abed. Soft candlelight shone from beyond his features, and his face was softened into the loveliest of smiles. Gone in an instant.

Just then, lithe footsteps from just inside, and bursting from behind the curtains came three elven children, small and laughing. A maid reached out, trying to snatch them by their tunics, but too late. They sprinted into the circle, and straight up to Elrond.

"Father, we would like to go the Gates," one boy panted. Elrohir.

"Apologies, Father," the other interjected, suddenly serious. Elladan, his twin. "I told him not to come."

"Our swordmaster is at the Gates, and asked us to join him," the third explained. Y/N sat forward, staring down at the boys.

"Tathrenion," she said severely, hiding the quake to her voice, "you know not to enter this chamber when Lord Elrond is taking counsel."

The third boy, unlike the other two, with (Y/HC) hair and striking grey eyes, paled, bowing to Y/N. Even when he straightened, he kept his eyes averted. "Forgive me, Mother. Elladan and Elrohir wished to go, and I wished to accompany them."

It was only then, as the boys turned to glance around at the present company, that Elrond spoke.

"You are in the presence of Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Shuffling, with a soft gasp from Elrohir, the three boys bowed low to the king. Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Instead of on the children, his eyes were pinned on Y/N, wide with unbridled shock. When he finally did look at the boys, at the one called Tathrenion, he found his own eyes staring back, steady and calm.

Thranduil stood abruptly, setting down his goblet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "We shall eat. Elrond, you shall decide what to do with your sons."

He swept off the dais, out of view, and Y/N was left staring at the spot he once occupied.

"Go after him," Elrond murmured to her, leaning close.

"Tathrenion-"

"Leave the child to me." And an unspoken promise to keep her son safe.

Y/N was up in an instant, following in Thranduil's wake as quickly as possible. But he was moving fast, and kept dodging out of sight, around corners that he did not know. Servants moved out of the way as Y/N passed through an adjoining kitchen at a sprint, intercepting Thranduil as he rounded the corner into the next room.

She caught him by his elbow as he tried to pull from her grasp, but she held firm.

"Thranduil," she said. "Stop. Just... Stop. And listen."

His rage made his jaw tight, his brows drawn low. "I will not stand here and listen to you when you have -"

"I had to leave," she interrupted, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "I could not be your concubine, Thranduil. I would not."

He scoffed, that same sound he made when he thought someone foolish. Beneath him. It hadn't started this way, but as they fell deeper into each other, he'd started scoffing at her the same way. It was part of what drove Y/N away from Mirkwood. "You were not a concubine, Y/N."

"Then tell me what I was to you."

Thranduil bent lower, so their faces were inches apart. "You know exactly what you were to me."

"I know that I was not your wife." And that was venom in her tone, sour and deadly.

A shadow passed over his features. "You were everything she was not."

"And that makes me whore to a king."

"You have never been a whore!" He shouted.

The surrounding house went quiet. Y/N trembled, fingertips numb.

"Tathrenion is your son," she said lowly, practically hissing into his mouth. "Your son, Thranduil. Our place in Rivendell is of your doing. You never recognized what it was to be in my place, with no guarantee of my safety in your court."

"I always would have protected the both of you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Our love felt increasingly fragile. I doubted that it even existed any longer. Had we been found out, I doubted you would protect me from exile."

Thranduil was quiet. The house had moved on from his sharp outburst, exhaling as his anger passed. Y/N's grip loosened on his tunic, her truth spoken. But her touch lingered.

"Did you know?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Not when I left your halls. Not until I reached the Misty Mountains."

"And all... went well? With the birth?"

Elven births were rare, and dangerous for mother and child. "Blessedly, Elrond's midwives and healers some of the most gifted, and I healed swiftly. He was born squalling."

He loosed a soft breath, and some of the tension left his features. He had always been beautiful, but it was when he was away from prying eyes that he truly became ethereal. Radiant. Himself.

"You should always have been in Mirkwood, with me." She just looked up at him. "I am sorry, my Y/N. I never meant to make you afraid."

"It is safer for both of us away from you and Legolas."

Thranduil snorted. "My son has proven impertinent. And lacking the character to succeed me."

"He will mature," she said softly. "He is young still."

"He will have to fight soon."

"Then this Necromancer..."

"Is a threat. Whatever darkness lurks in the south of my lands, it is dangerous and spreading."

"Tell Elrond," she urged. "He wishes to aid any fight against Morgoth's darkness in these lands."

"My forces are strong."

"They will be stronger with Rivendell's. Don't let your pride cloud your judgement."

At that, a small smile graced his mouth. "That has always been your advice for me."

"It will always stand. Unless you change."

"Would you come home?"

The question surprised her. "You would have us? So soon after the death of your wife?"

"I would have your company," he said. "And I would have my son raised by the both of us."

Y/N did not have an answer, and she was about to say as much when a smaller voice said, "I would like to go to Mirkwood."

Y/N whipped around, and found young Tathrenion standing behind them. She took a large step away from Thranduil, then lowered herself to her son's level, steeling herself.

"What did Lord Elrond tell you and the twins?" She asked.

"He said we may go to the Gates, but I decided to stay behind." Tathrenion peered past Y/N, to the Elvenking. "I wished to speak with you."

Thranduil could hardly stomach looking at his son's face, the very reflection of his own, untouched by age yet full of a strange wisdom. "Speak, child."

"I know little of why my mother left your kingdom, but I know she has done everything since for my sake. Please, do not ply her with false hopes. If you invite us to Mirkwood, you pledge to keep her safe."

"And you," Thranduil answered immediately. "I will protect you both, and welcome you into my household in places of honor."

Y/N was speechless, her throat swollen around pride for her young son.

"I know you not, Your Majesty, but I would like to," said Tathrenion simply.

Thranduil smiled.

Y/N sent him on his way, leaving her alone once again with the Elvenking. This time, he reached out to her, and against logic, she stepped into him, leaning into his fingers upon her cheek. She had longed for his touch, his kiss, his steadfastness ever since she left the forest. Leaving Mirkwood had been one of the hardest decisions of her long life.

"Let us think about this," she whispered. "And let these diplomatic matters be done first. Speak to Elrond in earnest."

"I will wait for your return to my side, Y/N," he murmured. "I have been waiting since the moment you left."

~~~

Dappled sunlight shone down upon the glade, lighting the page Y/N read. It was a letter, signed in Elrond's familiar hand, detailing the phalanxes marching towards Mirkwood. They would join Thranduil's army in patrolling for evil in the south, just as they had hoped.

Amongst the trees, a young boy laughed, and an older one hollered. Legolas was nearly fully mature, but had taken to playing with his younger half-brother in earnest. Together, they romped through the forest, and Tathrenion adored having someone elder to look up to and learn from. He excelled in archery, now, thanks to Legolas's tutelage.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her backwards, and she fell upon Thranduil's chest. He was stretched upon the grass, feline at ease. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, in his fingers in her unbound hair. In his mouth, pressed to her shoulder.

She had refused to take him to bed since her return, but she had begun to let him back into her heart. He had honored his word, and the loss of his wife had left him in need of comfort, in need of counsel and a tender hand.

Besides that, over honeywine in the candlelight one night in Rivendell, he had finally told her he loved her. Words were the playthings of elves, and though they meant little to some, they meant everything to Y/N. She opened up visions of the future that had ere been clouded.

"Of what do you think, my love?" Thranduil breathed against her skin.

She came back to the dampness of the grass beneath them, the golden green of the canopy above, the laughter of her son in the distance. The warmth of her king at her back.

She smiled. "Eternity."

[puck-luck]

airline affection | cole caufield

warnings: drinking (tequila), sex with a stranger, protected p in v (me breaking my pattern fr), fingering, handjob, semi-public sex, hair pulling, mentions of a round 2 but not explored in this fic (will probably not be explored in a part 2 either because i like how this fic ends), use of Y/N (my least fav)

pairing: cole caufield x fem!reader

summary: cole caufield and fem!reader basically join the mile high club, despite their feet being on the earth.

wc: 3,772

There are a lot of things that you hate about winter storms. The number one thing, though, is when it delays your plane. You’re usually impatient in airports. The energy in these buildings seems to spark something in you that just makes you restless. You’re almost always checking the time and your eTicket to make sure nothing changed since the last time you checked it a minute prior. You’re running through your checklist of to-dos and making sure you have everything you need in case your flight gets so delayed that you need to book a hotel. 

You’re already pretty sure that you won’t make your connection, although the three-hour layover between landing and departure was a nice cushion. It’s not like your flight has been delayed by much, anyway. It’s just an hour. You’ll still have time. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can sprint across the airport and still make it with plenty of time to spare. 

If not, getting a hotel in Montréal for the night wouldn’t be too bad. The city seems interesting enough, though… knowing yourself, you probably won’t venture out of the airport and hotel if you are stuck there for the night. You’ll want to get on the first flight out since you’re already anxious to get home, so you’ll just bite the bullet and go to bed early.

The minutes continue to drag on and you watch your layover grow slimmer and slimmer, until you know it’s futile to make it from one terminal to the next. Especially once the gate agent behind the desk turns on the microphone and you hear his voice, automatically more grating because of the news he presents, announce that the plane has been delayed another forty minutes. He can’t help it, but you still wish you could go over and tear into him and vent out all of your frustrations.

You instead stand up and drag your carry on behind you towards the airport bar about a hundred feet from your gate. You snag a seat at the dark, polished wooden bartop, tucking your carry on between your stool and the bar itself. Even though you don’t believe anyone would actually steal your carry on while it’s right by your side, you take the precaution anyway… even if it makes you uncomfortable. You order a drink from their specialty cocktails– something with tequila and lime and pineapple– and seethe to yourself.

When you lift your eyes to the mirror behind the bar, nestled behind rows of liquor bottles, you catch a glimpse of a strong jaw and a pointed nose. You double take at the tousled mop of hair on this man’s head and linger on the dimples bracketing his glowing smile. 

You can’t feel bad or angry when you’re looking at a smile like that. 

He’s with a group of guys, drinks in hand, and they’re laughing. You can’t tell if this guy was the person who made the joke that sparked the chortles around his table or if he’s laughing along with something one of his friends said. 

Lifting his glass of beer to his mouth, the man happens to catch your eye in the mirror.

You blush and duck your head, startled that you were caught staring at this guy. You stare at the rim of your glass and trace the condensation on the side, letting a dewdrop gather on your fingertip and seep into the miniscule ridges that define your touch. 

After enough time has passed, you dare to peek at this guy again.

His gaze was waiting for you. His grin changes imperceptively, neither growing softer nor wider but changing somehow, and he lifts his glass in a tiny toat. It’s an acknowledgement of your stare and a casual ‘hi,’ should you choose to take it.

You feel yourself blushing again and lift your hand in a miniature wave before you pinch your bottom lip between your thumb and index finger to tame the change in your expression. You’ve never been good at controlling your face, especially not when a cute boy is going out of his way to notice you. It’s not like this never happens, but you still get a flutter in your stomach whenever it does.

You sip from your straw, gulping down a couple of moutfuls of your drink. To entertain yourself, and to avoid looking in the mirror again lest you make eye contact with this guy, you pull out your phone. You’re fully intending to text the group chat with your closest friends, saying that there’s a hot guy behind you in the airport bar, when you notice the aforementioned hot guy taking the seat to your right.

“Hi,” the man says. His voice has a distinct quality to it– not in a bad way. It just sounds like all of his words come from the back of his throat. His pitch is lower than you expected. Just from one word, you can tell that he talks with the confidence of a much taller man.

“Hi,” you reply. You take a sip of your drink after speaking. 

“Are you a nervous flier?” he asks.

You eye him, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He gestures to the drink in your hand. “You’ve been downing that thing. Trying to get a buzz before your flight takes off?”

“Oh,” you say lamely. You shake your drink, the ice cubes clinking in the glass. “Not really. I’m just annoyed. Delays, you know. I’m drinking in memoriam of my connecting flight.”

The man laughs, to your surprise. That wasn’t even a good joke, but here he is. He raises his glass, holding it out to yours and clinking the rims together. “In honor of your connection,” he says, then raises his glass to his lips. He raises an eyebrow and you do the same after stalling for a brief moment.

You’re not even in a good outfit. You’re in airport clothes, just leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, plus a baseball cap so no one sees how greasy your hair is underneath the cap, and this guy with– holy shit– massive fucking biceps is flirting with you. He’s leaning close to you, too, and he smells nice. Old Spice, maybe. 

“So, how long until your flight?”

You look at the time on your phone. “Thirty minutes.”

“Cool.” He nods. “Can I get you another drink?”

You consider the offer. 

“Or,” he lowers his voice to a whisper and brings his mouth close to your ear. “If you’re interested, I could provide you with another kind of stress relief.”

Your mouth gapes as he pulls away and fixes you with a confident, yet kind smile in the face of such a flagrant offer. 

“Think about it,” he murmurs. He catches the eye of the bartender. “Two chilled Casamigos blanco shots, please, under Suzuki.” When the bartender turns to pour the shots for him, the guy turns back to you. “A confidence boost. I’ll be over there, with the guys. Come find me if you want to make good on that second offer.” He takes one of the small glasses from the bar and clinks it with yours before heading back to his table. 

You stare at him, swiveling in your stool as he goes. Your jaw is still hanging open. It’s only once this guy– whose first name you still don’t know, by the way, except that it might be Suzuki?– returns to his table that you right yourself in your seat and touch the shot before you. 

You whip out your phone and take a picture of the shot. Hot guy in airport just bought me this shot and offered to have sex with me???? You type with frantic fingers, sending the message to the group chat you’d been planning to text before the man came over and made a move on you.

Your friends are well aware that your flight was delayed. They have been waiting for an update and this one is more than welcome, simply because of how dramatic and unexpected it is. 

send pic!! One of your friends replies, which the other friend emphasizes.

You’re able to snipe the man through the mirror of the bar, pretending like you’re taking a picture of the liquor selection. If they zoom in, your friends will be able to see his side profile and judge it accordingly.

Good enough for an airport crush, the second friend says.

you’ll basically be a member of the mile high club if you do it, says the first. 

You pocket your phone and fix your eyes again on the shot before you. It’s acclimating to the room temperature of the bar, but you can still see sharp shards of ice floating in the clear liquid. 

Fuck it. 

You take the shot and close your tab. Why shouldn’t you fuck this dude? How many people can say they’ve hooked up with an airport crush rather than losing them to distance and time? It’s not like you’ll ever see this guy again. You take a brisk, short breath and set your jaw. 

Once again dragging your carry on behind you, you approach his table and tap his shoulder.

Immediately his face splits with a smile. “I hope this is a good sign.”

“Let’s go,” you say without room to argue. You sound a lot more confident than you feel, but you’re also riding on the absurdity of the situation. You’re about to have sex in an airport. With a stranger. That goes against every rule of stranger danger that you’ve ever learned.

“You can leave your carry on with the guys,” he says. “They’ll watch it.”

You grip the handle. Leaving your luggage with a bunch of randos is where you draw the line. “No, I think I’ll bring it with me.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. C’mon.” He takes your other hand and leads you out of the bar, looking both ways before darting to the right. 

A hundred feet later, he’s locking the door to the single-stall family bathroom and pushing you up against it.

“What if someone knocks?” you ask.

“We’ll be quick,” he says, not answering your question. He kisses you before you can speak again.

Like everything that this man has done so far, the kiss is sudden and surprising. He overwhelms you and, while in the first second your eyes had grown wide in shock, your eyelids flutter shut and you melt into the kiss. 

His tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you welcome him in, tasting the beer that lingers in his mouth. He is quick, like he promises– his hand is making its way past your waistband and when he touches the band of your panties, you jerk back.

“Wait,” you say. 

The man pauses, his hand drawing back up to your stomach and resting there.

“What’s your name?”

He cracks a smile. “You scared me for a sec there. I’m Cole.” He lifts his hand from your stomach and finds your right hand, fitting them together in a handshake even though it’s a weird angle. “What’s yours?”

“Y/N,” you reply. 

Cole drops your hand and lets out a little chuckle. “Cute. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it.” You put a hand on the hair at the nape of Cole’s neck. “As you were, soldier.”

There’s no time to cringe at the statement before Cole is kissing you again and inching his fingers into your panties. He’s laughing at the little nickname you uttered, his kisses growing shorter and sweeter as his mouth moves with his chuckles. 

You don’t speak much after that, but Cole does make a litany of quiet moans and sighs tumble from your mouth. 

His fingers are blunt and certain with each movement. Cole’s cock presses into your hip as he touches you. With the constraints of your panties, because he hasn’t taken your leggings or underwear off, the pads of his digits flick over your clit and draw wetness and slick from your pussy. 

Within minutes, the digits are making their way to your entrance. It is not slow and reverent like you have experienced in the past, but you like that. You like that Cole is kissing you as his fingers work inside of you with a singular purpose– to open you up and prepare you to take his cock. 

Your legs are shaky and weak when Cole adds a second finger to your heat, then a third. They’re pushing inside of you, pushing in and out and thrusting until your hole has stretched to fit him. His tongue has moved to your jawline, tracing down the column of your neck and leaving wet kisses in the wake of the trail.

Unable to handle all of the pleasure he’s giving you without doing much at all, and unable to bear the uselessness that you feel while his hands are busy and yours are not, you push your hand down the front of his pants and grasp his length. 

Cole smiles into your skin and sucks a hickey just above the collar of your sweatshirt. 

You grip the member, feeling the hot flesh rub against your palm when you fist it. You try to picture Cole’s cock from touch alone, feeling the ridges and veins press into your grasp. Your thumb and index finger circle the crown of his cock, following the curve on the underside of the cockhead that reflects his cupid’s bow though not nearly as prominent.You come up to his very tip then all the way back down, feeling the soft thatch of hair at the base. He fits comfortably in your hand and there’s still room for you to move up and down, and you relish in the choked groan that he paints into the crook of your neck.

His efforts double when you touch him, which makes you work harder, and then it just becomes a competition. You try to beat each other out to see who can relent first, but it just dissolves into a fit of laughter when you realize what the other person is doing.

Cole guides you toward the sink with his other hand pressing into your side, finally working his hand around to pull your leggings down. He struggles since his fingers are still buried in your cunt and your hand is rather distracting as it pulls on his cock, but he eventually manages to get the tight fabric down to your mid-thigh. 

“How’s this going to work?” you ask, your bare behind coming into contact with the cold sink. You jump a bit and reach for the paper towel dispenser with your free hand, tugging a few sheets loose so that you can lay them on the edge of the sink and put a barrier between your body and the germs.

“Gonna bend you over a bit, if that’s okay,” Cole says. His words are certain, although he’s sure to check with you and make sure it’ll be comfortable.

“Okay,” you agree, allowing him to turn you around. You lay the paper towels down and lean against the sink, bending at the hinge of your hips. You look at Cole in the mirror and grin. 

He matches you. You watch him shove a hand into his pocket, coming back with a condom. He tears the wrapper and rolls the silicon onto himself. He slides his cock between your ass cheeks and thrusts slowly, just to feel the way that you grip him. After a couple of smooth movements, he brings his tip to your entrance and breaches the tight ring, which had drawn back into itself when Cole removed his fingers.

His hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, keeping you in place. You’re grateful for the touch because you do lurch forward when he buries his cock into your pussy, thrusting forward until his abdomen is flush with your behind. Without his hand holding your neck, you probably would have knocked your forehead into the mirror hanging on this airport bathroom wall.

“Careful,” Cole murmurs with a tilted smirk. “Can’t have you getting a concussion on me, Y/N.”

“Maybe be gentler,” you bite back without any heat brewing behind your words. 

“You want me to be gentle?” Cole asks. He draws out of you as slowly as he can, then fucks back into you at the same pace. It’s so slow that all the pleasure is lost on you– it just feels like something mechanical is filling you and leaving you. You know he’s just being difficult and even though you’re stubborn, it still makes you go back on your request.

“No, I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, pushing your hips back. “Really fuck me.”

“Good,” Cole says. “Hold on.”

You fit your hands around the curves of the sink, gripping the slippery fake-marble as best you can. You watch Cole in the mirror. 

There’s something poetic about that– you spotted him in the mirror of the bar less than twenty minutes ago and now you’re watching him draw out of your pussy until just his tip remains. 

He bites down on his lower lip as he thrusts forward, finding a brutal rhythm. His hand goes from your neck to your shoulder, his fingertips curling over to the front of your body and digging into the flesh above your collarbone. He keeps you more securely in this place in this position, even pulling you back to meet his thrusts. 

A strand of hair, wavy and delicate, falls over his forehead. His cheeks dimple as his face contorts through the movements. He’ll grimace and grit his teeth, but you know it’s not because of pain or anything negative. He’s doing his best to stay quiet, you think, just like you are. The door of this bathroom separates you from the gates and the hoards of people traveling to a new destination and none of them want to hear two people having sex– except, you know, a perv. There are bound to be a few in the crowds. Still– you don’t want them to hear you.

There’s a vein in Cole’s neck that is popping out from the hyper-focus he has on your body. He’s looking down, eyes fixed on the space where your body welcomes his driving hips and his unrelenting cock. 

Punishing thrust after punishing thrust has you hurtling towards orgasm. In this position, and with Cole pulling you back onto his cock, he’s hitting all the spots inside of you that have your stomach turning and clenching and twisting. It doesn’t help that the edge of the sink is digging into your abdomen and applying pressure.

“Can feel you getting tighter,” Cole grits out. “Come on, Y/N. Come.”

His voice is tight when he speaks, like he’s trying to hold himself together until you unravel. The timbre is hot as hell and you let out an involuntary whimper, dipping your head.

Cole brings his other hand to your hair and yanks your head back up. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, narrowed like he didn’t want you to look away from him even though he wasn’t looking at you, and the jerk of pain on your scalp sends you over the edge.

You come, entrance spasming around Cole’s shaft as the climax takes over you. Your jaw drops and your eyelids flutter. 

Cole loosens his grip on your hair and your head falls forward– he allows it this time. His hand comes to your hip and keeps you steady, along with the hand on your shoulder, as he chases his own orgasm. You ride out the aftershocks and Cole prolongs them, if only a little bit. He bucks forward a few times before you can feel his cock twitching and spurting cum into the rubber wrapped around him.

After coming, Cole fills you with hard thrusts four or five times. Then, he draws out of your heat and removes the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trashcan. He covers it with a layer of paper towels before returning to you and wiping you clean. 

You’re the one to draw your panties and leggings up, feeling satiated. It’s clear that you’ve been fucked, knowing your own body, but you don’t feel like you’re gaping. There’s a dull energy around your core, but it’s indescribable. 

Cole tucks his cock away and reaches behind you to put a bit of soap on his hands, then hip-bumps you out of the way to have full use of the sink. He grins at you through the mirror.

You hover awkwardly for a chance to wash your own hands. As you do, Cole comes behind you and kisses your cheek.

“That was fun,” he says.

You hum, agreeing with a nod.

“Have a safe flight,” Cole bids you before he slips from the bathroom. 

It’s probably better that you’re leaving at different times; you wait a few minutes before nonchalantly leaving the room yourself. There’s no one nearby that is giving you a second look and you’re astonished that no one knocked on the door while you were fucked thoroughly by a stranger– yeah, you’re still on that– but you also feel a bit proud. You did something wild and no one is the wiser.

You head back to your gate with your carry on wheeling along behind you, finding a seat and waiting less than five minutes before you board. You’re in one of the first few groups because you’re insane about checking in and being on time. It also helps that you’ve been flying on this airline forever and you have a boatload of rewards points. 

As you’re fastening your seatbelt in your window seat near the wings, the same one you always choose, a familiar voice greets you.

“Would you look at that,” Cole says. He lifts his carry on into the overhead compartment and double-checks the row number. “What are the chances that we’re sitting together too, Y/N?”

Your face floods with heat and you immediately know that there’s a red blush coating your horrified expression. You were operating under the impression that you’d never see Cole again… and now you have to spend a whole flight beside him.

“What do you think about round 2?” Cole asks in a low voice, sly and conniving. He leans back after the proposal, dimples as deep as you’ve ever seen them. He fastens his own seatbelt and knocks his knee against yours.

The universe might be out to get you.

But you might take him up on that offer too.

[thewulf]

Tides of Comfort || JJ Maybank

Summary: Request - I begging and dying for JJ Maybank comfort. Like reader is just going through it and JJ being the best “I got you baby” and just holding her forever and the pogues are just “awww they’re so cute” I just craveeee it

A/N - Stoppp this is just so sweet. Again, trying to be a lil more descriptive in the writing so lmk how you like it!!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k+

As the evening draped over the Outer Banks like a comforting shroud, casting a soft golden glow over the horizon, you found yourself perched on the weathered dock of the chateau, tears staining your cheeks like dewdrops on delicate petals. The weight of the week's hardships weighed down on your shoulders, threatening to engulf you in a sea of despair. Hugging your knees to your chest, you sought solace in the solitude of the fading light, the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the dock providing a soothing backdrop to your turbulent thoughts.

Unbeknownst to you, JJ Maybank, your unwavering anchor, and beacon of light in the darkness, had ended his shift earlier that evening. A nagging intuition, a silent whisper of the heart, pulled him towards you with an urgency that he couldn't ignore. With each step he took, guided by an invisible thread of destiny, his determination to offer you his unwavering support grew stronger, his heart beating in sync with yours.

As JJ made his way towards the dock, the soft crunch of sandy dirt beneath his feet mingled with the gentle rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. The salty tang of the ocean hung heavy in the air, a familiar scent that filled him with a sense of homecoming. With each passing moment, the distance between you and him seemed to shrink, as if drawn together by an invisible force that transcended time and space.

Finally, he spotted your silhouette against the dimming sky, a solitary figure in a world of fading light. His heart clenched with hurt at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks, his resolve strengthening with each step he took towards you. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, his footsteps soft against the worn wooden planks of the dock.

"Y/N?" he called softly, his voice a gentle whisper carried on the evening breeze, infused with warmth and concern.

Startled, you turned towards him, tear-filled eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and relief. In that moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you amidst the quiet beauty of the twilight. Without a word, JJ closed the remaining distance between you, enveloping you in a tender embrace that spoke volumes of his unwavering love and support.

"What's wrong, baby?" he murmured, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos of your emotions, a lifeline in the darkness.

Unable to find the words to articulate the storm raging within you, you simply leaned into him, seeking comfort in the safety of his arms, finding security in the warmth of his embrace. With each beat of your heart, each hitched breath, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders.

JJ held you close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his touch a gentle caress against your skin. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, his words a promise of unwavering support. "But know that I'm here for you, always. I've got you, okay?"

You nodded, a soft sob escaping your lips as you clung to him, finding comfort in his unwavering presence, in the depth of his love.

With infinite tenderness, JJ gently lifted you into his arms, cradling you close as he rose to his feet, as if determined to shield you from the world's troubles with the strength of his embrace.

Without a word, he carried you to the nearby hammock, its gentle sway offering a semblance of peace amidst the storm raging within you. As you settled into the hammock, JJ's heart swelled with love for you, his touch a soothing balm against the ache in your soul.

Brushing away your tears with his thumb, he spoke, his voice a gentle murmur of reassurance and affection. "You're safe here, baby," he whispered, his words a promise of unwavering support. "I'll stay with you until the storm passes, love."

And in that moment, as you lay together beneath the starlit sky, the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and serenity in JJ's embrace. For in his arms, you found not only comfort, but also the strength to weather any storm that life may bring.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears flowing freely now as you allowed yourself to release the pent-up emotions weighing you down.

JJ held you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively, as if shielding you from the world's troubles. With a gentle sway, he rocked you back and forth in the hammock, the rhythm soothing and comforting.

"I love you, more than you will ever know.” He whispered, still holding you close to his chest knowing how badly you needed it now.

His words washed over you like a healing balm, dispelling the lingering shadows of doubt and fear that had taken root in your heart. With each tender caress, each whispered assurance, JJ's love enveloped you, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety and security.

"You're not alone, baby," he continued, his voice a gentle melody in the quiet of the night. "I'm here with you, every step of the way."

A sense of peace settled over you, like a blanket of stars strewn across the night sky. In JJ's embrace, you found solace, a refuge from the storms that raged within.

As he continued to murmur words of comfort and love, his touch a soothing symphony against your skin, the walls around your heart began to crumble. Brick by brick, the barriers you had built to protect yourself fell away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of vulnerability and trust.

In JJ's arms, you felt seen, heard, and cherished. His love was a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding you through even the most treacherous of seas.

JJ's eyes twinkled mischievously as he shifted in the hammock, his arms still wrapped securely around you. With a playful grin, he leaned in closer, his voice filled with anticipation. It was that determined look on your face that meant you knew you were in for something.

"You know what always cheers me up when I'm feeling down?" he began, his tone light and affectionate, much different than the seriousness he had been conveying just moments prior.

Curiosity sparkled in your eyes as you tilted your head, eager to hear what he had to say. "What's that, JJ?"

His grin widened, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Stories. So let me tell you one. Well, did you hear about the cheese factory explosion?" he said, his voice laced with playful excitement.

You couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected turn of conversation. "A cheese factory explosion?" you repeated, amusement coloring your tone, playing along with whatever, he had planned.

JJ nodded enthusiastically. "That's right! It was a de-brie-acle," he quipped, unable to contain his own laughter at the literally cheesy joke.

Your laughter bubbled up in response, the sound filling the air with warmth and light. JJ's eyes sparkled with delight as he watched your smile widen, his heart swelling with affection.

Encouraged by the sound of your laughter, JJ's eyes lit up with delight, and he leaned in closer, eager to keep the joyful momentum going. With a playful grin, he launched into a series of lighthearted anecdotes and jokes, each one more absurd and whimsical than the last.

He regaled you with tales of his childhood escapades, embellished with exaggerated details that left you in stitches. His laughter mingled with yours, the harmonious melody echoing through the stillness of the night.

With each story, JJ's enthusiasm was infectious, filling the air with an undeniable warmth and light. He painted vivid pictures with his words, transporting you to worlds filled with laughter and wonder, far removed from the troubles of the present moment.

As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves caught up in a whirlwind of laughter and camaraderie, the weight of your worries fading into the background. In JJ's company, the darkness seemed less daunting, replaced by a sense of joy and possibility.

Sooner than you wished he had finished his stories, leaving you cozied in his arms under a comfortable silence. As you both lay there in the hammock, time seemed to stand still. The gentle sway of the hammock beneath you mirrored the ebb and flow of your emotions, a soothing rhythm that lulled you into a sense of peace.

The Pogues watched from afar, their eyes filled with warmth as they observed the scene unfolding before them. John B, Sarah, Kiara, and Pope exchanged knowing glances, their smiles mirroring the affectionate bond shared between you and JJ.

In that moment, amidst the tranquil backdrop of the night sky and the gentle rustle of leaves, they saw more than just two individuals finding comfort in each other's arms. They saw a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love and laughter could light the way.

For you and JJ were not just partners; you were each other's guiding light, offering support, comfort, and unwavering devotion in the face of adversity. Your connection was palpable, a testament to the strength of your bond and the depth of your love.

As the Pogues watched on, their hearts swelled with affection for the two of you. They knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and JJ would face them together, hand in hand, drawing strength from each other's presence and guiding one another through the darkest of nights.

And as the evening breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the promise of a new day, the Pogues shared a silent moment of gratitude for the love that bound you and JJ together. For in that simple gesture of love and laughter, they found hope, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way.

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[emeraldelixirs]

Bloodsport {I: where’d it go wrong?}

bsf! m. riddle x fem!sallow!reader, fem!sallow!reader stepbrother! t. nott

Bound by Blood, Betrayed by Fate. When you’re dragged to Malfoy Manor under orders from Voldemort himself, you learn the price of your mother’s mistakes: an Unbreakable Vow, tethering your life to the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange. Forced to navigate a web of dark magic, family debts, and impossible expectations, you must tread carefully in a house brimming with enemies—and a few familiar faces. As tensions rise and the lines between loyalty and survival blur, one question remains: will you find a way to break free, or will you lose yourself to the darkness?

Content warnings: 18+ themes, mentions of death, mental, emotional, physical abuse, torture, trauma, dysfunctional family dynamics, taboo themes, grief, underage coercion misogyny, classic canon HP themes of blood purity, house prejudices, oppression

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: and here lays the start of y/n’s trauma, with a lovely flashback. This is merely a filler before I get to the good stuff, bc next part is 8k worth of words and I will not elaborate any further. DISCLAIMER: girl in picture is not descriptive of Y/n, I am writing her with as little description as I can besides last name ofc. I just wanted a fitting pic for the chapter until I get to an official banner.

[playlist: the lakes–taylor swift, july–noah cyrus, forever winter–taylor swift, where’d it go wrong–d4vd]

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It was a bright summer day in June, one of those days where the remnants of spring lingered in the air—a soft, cool breeze running through the wildflowers in the fields surrounding the Parkinson Mansion. Despite the sun’s gentle warmth and the comforting drone of dragonflies and honeybees, something felt off in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t place it, but the sense of dread fluttered there, stubborn and persistent.

You, Pansy, and Daphne had strayed from the bustle inside—your two closest friends pulling you out to the meadow behind the estate. The Parkinson Mansion itself was a grand, pristine building, though seldom occupied by actual parents these days; they were always away at this meeting or that trip. Under normal circumstances, you’d relish a carefree summer’s day with your friends, but the knot in your stomach refused to untie. Perhaps because your mother had acted so strangely the night before, insisting you spend the night at Pansy’s, hugging you tight enough to leave you breathless and—if you weren’t mistaken—a little dampness in your hair from her tears. You’d woken this morning with an irrational worry gnawing at you, ready to flee back to the perpetually hollow cold of Nott Manor to ask the meaning. But now, it merely circled your thoughts like a blackbird overhead. 

Nevertheless, it ought to have been peaceful here. Sunbeams chased off the last dewdrops from the night. Mourning doves cooed in the distance, half-hidden in the branches. The breeze ruffled Pansy’s dark hair as she crouched, meticulously polishing her new Nimbus broom, the latest model on the market. She paused every so often, lifting it into the sunshine to watch the metal fittings glint.

“Lorenzo,” she huffed, “is going to swallow his words when he sees this baby. And he’s coming with Draco later this week—they promised to run a few drills with me. I’ll be unstoppable against them.” Her tone was smug, but you only nodded, half-listening.

Meanwhile, Daphne lay on her stomach in the tall grass, your head pillowed on her back. She’d spent the last hour braiding bright wildflowers into flimsy crowns—two perched precariously on your heads, the third already wilted beside Pansy, who cursed every time it slipped off. Daphne flicked a new chain of daisies between her fingers, giggling under her breath at some rumor she’d heard.

“I heard Cho was found snogging Terry Boot on the train ride home,” she announced, her voice lilting with the thrill of gossip. “Not even a week after poor Cedric died, can you believe it?”

A shudder prickled at your arms. Cedric’s death had rattled the whole school, and you still felt uneasy about how the year had ended. You shifted your weight off Daphne, dislodging a few petals. “That’s got to be rubbish,” you muttered, frowning. “Cho wouldn’t move on that fast, surely. She was devastated.”

Daphne shrugged, weaving another blossom through her makeshift crown. “That’s what Astoria heard. From a friend of a friend, she claims.” She sniffed in that way she did when she wanted to sound superior.

Pansy snorted, hugging the broom handle against her chest. “Astoria’s sources are always questionable,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I call bollocks.”

In another world, on another day, you might have teased them both about digging into outlandish rumors. But the knot in your stomach tugged tighter, a creeping sense that haunted you with the talk of death. You cast your gaze toward the sky—blue, bright, with just a hint of humidity that promised a sweltering afternoon. The day felt too perfect, as if something unspoken lurked at the edges.

Trying to ignore the weight in your stomach, you steered the conversation elsewhere: “Have you heard Lyra Nox is releasing a new novel soon? It’s about a woman who falls in love with a charmed portrait.”

Pansy snorted a laugh. “A portrait as the love interest? That’s… creative.”

Daphne giggled, half listening, half braiding. “I’ll skip the reading and wait for your review,” she joked, nose wrinkling in playful distaste.

“I’ll opt out of both.” Pansy deadpanned. You huffed in faux annoyance, reaching over, grabbing a handful of stray wilting daisies, launching them at her.

She grinned at you, “kidding, kidding. Easy Sallow.”

You made a show of tossing a few wilted daisies at Pansy in mock offense. She smirked, swatting them away. The three of you resumed your chatter—about next year’s classes, potential new teachers, Blaise Zabini’s upcoming party, and what you wanted for lunch. The conversation and the bright field nearly lulled you into forgetting the morning’s dread.

Until, you noticed a lone figure emerging from across the field. The shape drew closer, weaving through the tall grass in rushed strides. As it neared, your pulse quickened: Theo. It was definitely Theo, but something about his posture was wrong for such a sunny day. A heaviness radiated off him, like a storm cloud in human form.

He approached, slightly out of breath, hair windblown, and your friends halted their chatter. Pansy stood up a fraction, shielding her eyes against the sun. Daphne paused in her braiding, turning her head so your weight slid off her back. Silence fell.

Theo’s eyes were red at the edges, his mouth pressed into a thin line that barely contained whatever grief lay behind it. Your stomach lurched. Theo rarely displayed emotions so openly in front of others—especially not in front of Pansy and Daphne. The dread inside you knotted further, as if your body already knew what he was about to say.

“Y/n, you need to come home.” he urged softly, glancing at Pansy and Daphne with quick, polite acknowledgement before focusing on you. “Now. Your—it’s urgent.”

Fear spiked hot in your throat. “Is everything… is my mother…?” The question choked off, half-formed.

“We need to go home,” Theo repeated, voice taut. His eyes flicked from you to your friends and back again. He looked… distraught in a way you’d never seen, as if the ground had dropped beneath him. The phrase go home struck a chord of panic. You realized you never wanted to leave the safety of this sunlit field. 

“Wh–what’s wrong?” you asked, trying to laugh it off, but fear caught your breath. When he remained silent, you slowly stood, petals tumbling off your lap. Daphne’s crown of wildflowers dropped from her fingers, petals scattering in the grass as she sat up, alarmed, while Pansy clutched her broom handle.

“Just… trust me,” Theo insisted, more hoarse this time. “I—I’ll explain later, okay? We have to go home, now.”

You glanced at Daphne and Pansy, confusion rolling off them in waves. But the dread in Theo’s eyes sealed your decision. “Alright,” you whispered, “Let me just—”

“No,” he cut in, shaking his head. “We need to leave immediately.”

Pansy hugged her broom closer, confusion written across her face. “Hold on—what’s going on?” She demanded, stepping forward. “Theo, you’re scaring us.”

Theo parted his lips, but only managed, “I—I just can’t explain right now.” He caught your arm gently. “We’ve got to go home. Right away.”

Without another word, you allowed him to gently grip your arm, pulling you away from your friends. Shock rooted them in place. Pansy called after you—What’s going on?—but you just shook your head, tears unexpectedly pricking the corners of your eyes. You didn’t know why you felt this sudden wave of sorrow, but the air felt heavier, the sun less bright.

Daphne scrambled to her feet, her half-finished flower crown forgotten. “Wait, Y/N—?”

But Theo gave a final apologetic glance over his shoulder, and the two of you were gone, weaving back through the fields, up the winding path through the overgrown grasses toward the Parkinson Estate.  The day felt too bright for tragedy, but dread clawed at your ribcage. You blinked back tears, your breath hitching as you nodded, trusting the urgent plea in Theo’s eyes.

The moment you reached the Floo station inside, your heart hammered out of control. Theo grabbed a handful of powder and swept you into the emerald flames. You clung to his sleeve, a kaleidoscope of color and spinning magic swallowing you until you tumbled out into the drawing room of the Nott estate—your stepfather’s home, which you reluctantly shared. 

The abrupt shift from the sun-drenched meadow to this lifeless interior felt like stepping from day into a permanent night when You staggered out, disoriented, gripping Theo for stability.

The drawing room’s silence was a stark contrast to the lively field. At its center stood Narcissa Malfoy, her elegant features drawn tight with concern, and Theodore Nott Sr., whose expression held all the warmth of a gravestone.

A swell of panic rose in your chest, breath hitching. Theo hovered at your side, shoulders trembling in silent grief he tried to bury.

Your stepfather—no, your mother’s husband in name only—met your gaze with chilling indifference. “Your mother,” he said flatly, “died last night.”

A ringing filled your ears. The day’s brightness seemed to vanish from your memory, replaced by icy shock. “No…” you whispered, hardly aware that tears streamed down your cheeks. “That can’t be—there’s no reason—she was fine—”

Narcissa stepped forward, ignoring Nott Sr.’s disapproving scowl. “I’m so sorry, my dear,” she murmured, voice trembling with empathy. She guided you gently from the Floo, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, beckoning Theo in too.

Theodore Nott Sr. cleared his throat. “She arranged for you to spend the night with Miss Parkinson, presumably to spare you the drama of witnessing… the end.”

He spoke without even a glimmer of sympathy, as if narrating the front page of the Daily Prophet. Your mind reeled, refusing to accept the finality of his words. She can’t be gone…

“H-how?” You breathed out. You already had feeling as to how and why, but you wanted to hear it from him.

He sniffed, “complications on the job,” impatiently glancing between the three of you.

It was because of her.

The mad woman that decided to marry your mother off to Nott Sr that stood emotionless in front of you, that had free reign in your house, pulling your mother into the drawing room for hours on end, sending her away at elusive hours of the night, doing gods knows what. Bellatrix Lestrange. 

Theo gave a strangled sob, hearing the one that wracked through you loudly, turning his face away, wiping his eyes. You gripped his sleeve needing his presence as much as he needed yours, letting him tug you in his side.

“Emotional displays won’t—” He cleared his throat.

 Narcissa, her voice firm, snapped at Nott Sr. “Leave them. Now. They’ve just lost their mother.”

“This is my house, Narcissa,” The older wizard made a dismissive sound. “They’re old enough to keep emotions in check. The times we live in—” 

“Get out,” Narcissa repeated, sharp enough that even he winced, her authoritative maternal side shining through. With a roll of his eyes, he strode out, slamming the door behind him, leaving the room colder than before.

In the hush that followed, your tears came in earnest. Narcissa guided you and Theo to a nearby sofa, letting you cling to each other. She summoned tissues, stroking your hair lightly in a gesture that felt heartbreakingly maternal—something your mother could never do again.

You tried to reconcile the morning’s bright sunshine, the warm breeze, the friendly chatter with your friends, with this. The last vestiges of spring now seemed mockingly beautiful, overshadowed by your mother’s sudden absence. She must have known something terrible would happen—why else insist on your sleeping over at the Parkinsons’? The question gnawed at you.

Theo trembled at your side, every muscle tight. You slid an arm around him, drawing him close. Step-siblings, yes, but more than that—friends, companions. Now you were bound by even more shared loss, being there for him when his own mother passed a few years prior. And if Nott Sr. was your only guardian left, you shuddered at the hollowness that awaited you both under his roof.

Narcissa, kneeling by your feet, pressed her hand to yours. “You’re not alone. I’ll help however I can, you two are some of Draco's closest friends.” Her voice wavered, tears bright in her eyes. But she held steady for you, for Theo, gently bridging the gap left by that the cold, malicious man who cared little for either of you.

Outside, the June sun still shone, oblivious to your world’s collapse. You let your head rest against Theo’s shoulder, tears staining his sleeve. The memory of how lovely the day had seemed only hours ago panged in your chest, a cruel reminder that fate offered no warnings.

You still felt the knot of unease you’d woken with, that sense of dread now realized. The breeze you’d thought was gently stirring your hair had, in reality, been a herald of loss.

No matter the brightness of summer, the world looked bleak and gray now, hollowed by grief.

The sunlit day felt like a cruel mockery, each warm ray a glaring reminder of how a bright sky could so easily clash with a dark heart. You sat on the steps leading to Malfoy Manor’s lavish gardens, reading, but your body felt heavy, your mind drifting back to the day your mother died. The recollection threatened to swallow you whole, and you had no energy to resist.

Bellatrix had held you in her claws for most of the day—torturing you in every way possible except actually casting the Cruciatus Curse. You suspected she was saving that particular brand of agony for a later date. You stared at your tender hands, welts from her punishments forming red and raw across your knuckles. They pulsed with each heartbeat, a physical echo of the emotional storm churning within.

It hadn’t been physical violence alone; she forced you to “charm” a mirror, an exercise that turned your stomach. The mirror displayed a rotating gallery of men—some young, some old and unsavory—teaching you how to coax and manipulate them with your Veela magic. That memory made you feel unclean, as if your soul were smeared by something far more insidious than a simple bruise.

You’d rather have endured a hundred more blows than endure that humiliating “lesson” again. Yet here you were, in broad daylight, the beautiful summer mocking your pain.

At last, the manor’s door opened behind you, footsteps on stone drawing your attention. You glanced up, shielding your eyes from the sun, spotting Theo stepping outside with Mattheo in tow. Both wore suits—dark, meticulously tailored, each cuff hiding the marks that chained them to the Dark Lord’s bidding. They looked weary, but they managed half-smiles, as they talked animatedly about something.

“Columba,” Theo called gently, that old nickname he’d used for you since you were kids. He approached with caution, Mattheo lagging behind like a silent sentinel.

“Ready to go home?” Theo asked, offering a hand to help you stand.

The word home jarred you. Home might as well have been a crypt these days, the Nott Manor empty except for house-elves who scurried about on edge, rarely speaking. You forced a nod, sliding your bruised hand into Theo’s. Pain shot through your fingers, but you let him lift you.

He froze when he saw the injuries marring your skin. “Gods, Y/N… she did this?” he whispered hoarsely, a flare of anger in his eyes. Over his shoulder, you saw Mattheo tense as he peered over his friend’s shoulder, running a hand through his curls before letting it drop to his side, frustration emanating off him in waves suddenly.

You shrugged, trying to sound calm. “I wasn’t doing well enough, apparently.”

Mattheo let out a hollow laugh. “How hard is it to twirl your hair and bat your lashes at someone, exactly?”

Your temper flickered, turning your gaze on him. “It’s more than that, you twat.”

He shot you a look, jaw clenching. “More than enough to get beaten for?” His dark eyes glinted with incredulity, but beneath the sarcasm you caught the faintest glimmer of concern. “Please, enlighten me.”

They’d never understand, not fully, not when you hadn’t even understood barely—the art of charming guarded men, of coaxing out secrets with a coy turn of phrase, all while Bellatrix delighted in your squeamishness. The memory of that mirror and those endless faces made your stomach churn.

“Lay off it, Matty,” you muttered, brushing his shoulder lightly as you passed him to reach the door with Theo.

Mattheo stayed put. You glanced back to see him rooted to the spot, arms rigid, eyes locked on the horizon as if waging an internal war. Theo stopped by the threshold, keeping a gentle hold on you. “You coming back, Mate?” he asked, trying for a casual tone.

“Nah,” Mattheo exhaled, glancing over at the hand Theo rested on your back. “Go ahead. I have a couple things to tend to.” His voice sounded distant, any previous good mood lost.

You rolled your eyes with a touch of exasperation. Lately, this was the version of Mattheo you always got: cold, distant, and bitterly brooding. “Fine,” you said sharply, words cutting more than you meant. “We’ll see you at Zabini’s party later, yeah?”

He raised his hand in a noncommittal wave, turning away to pace near the garden steps. You half-wanted to call him back, to tell him you needed him at the manor just as much as Theo, that you despised him for being so frigid but also respected his reasons for it. But your body ached, and your heart was too drained for another confrontation or his dejected attitude.

Theo gently guided you inside, toward the Floo station. You cradled your bruised hand, stepping into the emerald flames with your stepbrother by your side. Home. The concept twisted in your mind like a knife, the echo of your mother’s demise still haunting your chest.

taglist: @moonlightttfae

A/N: I love a good broody Matthew and a protective Theo, anyone else? I quite literally thrive off of it, and platonic scenes between the Slytherin gang. Anyways, feedback, likes, weblogs are always appreciated. And lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

[simplydozing]

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Nameless Ghoulette Cumulus x Ghoul!Reader Shedding season always comes early for you. You don’t know why, but it’s the most painful thing you ever go through. Luckily for you, you have a whole squad that takes care of you during this time, one putting in extra effort than the rest. Word Count: 2253 || Ao3 Gender Neutral Pronouns for Reader Author's Interpretations Of Nameless Ghouls

 It was that time of the year again, for you at least.

 It was that time where you succumbed to pure agony. You would be put through the most excruciating pain just to shed the outer lining of your horns.

 You never understood why. Why it hurts so bad, and why your shed time came a full season before the others.

Your horns are smaller than the others. They were the most common shape, jutting out from your hairline and curving upward to a small point. Could it be that the size affects your shedding?

 Age didn't play an issue, you were as old as the others. You think there's something wrong with you, but they say it's natural and that you were fine. Maybe they're right, but it was something you couldn't shake off.

There was this one time where you collapsed on stage and you were sure to be sent back to hell for ruining the scene. But you woke up in the infirmary with the other ghouls surrounding you, one in particular holding your hand.

Cumulus was always the one to take extra care of you. She had this nurturing spirit about her. She was the first to get to know you upon your summoning, and you both grew close pretty quickly. She was the one to introduce you to the rest of your team.

It was definitely an interesting sight for the frontman, who you came to know as Papa Emeritus IV. All he saw was a pack circulating around you, taking in your scent and checking out the features you have. He was quite the character himself. She told you everything you needed to know about him and what to do.

She was the one who helped you find your talent for singing. Finding your “human” voice is a big deal for your kind. Ghouls don't talk like one could imagine, they use a sort of telepathy. It sounds like indistinct whispering, and they use small words and phrases. So when you heard her “voice”, it almost brought you to your knees.

Since then, you both have been inseparable.

Today, you're all practicing for the new songs the Emeritus wrote.

Or, you all were supposed to be. You didn't show up, and the rest were still waiting on you.

“What is taking so long?” The Emeritus broke the silence.

“Did I not say this was urgent?” He turned to the rest, throwing his arms up in an over exaggerated shrug.

They look around and stare at each other.

“ {y/n} unwell?”  

“ where {y/n}?”

“is late, is never late.”

There were chirps and purrs coming from each of them while they questioned your whereabouts.

 Cumulus was deep in thought about it. But then it hits after remembering what day it is.

She grabs her companion, Cirrus, by the sleeve. Cirrus tilts her head and twitches her nose.

“ know of {y/n}?” She asks.

“ {y/n} shed today,” Cumulus answers, distressed.

The others pick up on this, and immediately put their instruments down and go look for you.

The Emeritus jogs after them.

“Wait! What's going on?”

It's Dewdrop that stops in his tracks.

“ shedding,” he makes a pulling motion from his head where his own horns are positioned.

“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows, coming to the realization that you could literally be anywhere, and that brings a chill down his spine.

 You once freaked him out when you were in the middle of this process. It was a late night, and he was just finishing up some paperwork when he decided to take a break and wander around to stretch everything out. He was not expecting any other person to be up, much less you. So when he sees you at the end of a darkened hallway covered in blood and the only source of light coming from your dimly glowing eyes, he books it right back to his office and slammed the door. He even blocked it off with a chair.

“Yes. Yes, okay. Go,” Emeritus pats the ghoul on the shoulder. Dewdrop nods, and flees to catch up with the others.

“And find them before they find me!” He calls out, shuddering when he thinks back to that one night.

Everyone splits up, covering more ground around the abbey. One checks the kitchen, another inspects the reading room. Mountain scours the cemetery, and Dewdrop searches the meeting room.

But you're nowhere to be found.

Cumulus is out in the garden area, chittering and clicking, making the sounds you can recognize her by. She was hoping to be the one to find you, knowing what to do with you and how to do it.

 She looks under the benches. She rattles bushes. She pads around the various delicate flowers.

 She can't find you, though.

��The sound of dry leaves crunching under her feet grows more frantic. She's in a panic. You couldn't have gone far in your state.

 All hope begins to fade as she comes to a halt, catching her breath while trying to think rationally.

 You have these “go-to” spots, but all reported you weren't in any of them. Sometimes, you would get so overstimulated that you would find a new hiding area. But at the same time, you have a tendency to go astray. The pain would be so mind-numbing that you'd aimlessly drag yourself anywhere.

 Sleepwalking, in a way.

Feeling defeated, Cumulus decides that the others have probably found you by now.

 She surveys the area one last time. 

 She knows you haven't gone that far out, but she still squints at the treeline of the woods that hid the church. She sees the old conservatory.

 Perhaps you found sanctuary there.

 She hurries to the abandoned building, brushing away the stray brush and tall grass.

 Your scent is getting strong. Thank Satan she chose to look around again.

 On arrival, the first thing she noticed is the door that's slightly ajar.

 The building itself is gorgeous. There's an entryway that's framed with stained glass windows telling the story of Lucifer's Great Fall. It leads to an even larger glass dome. Some of the glass is broken, and the whole thing is held together by rusted beams.

 How could they let this breathtaking edifice go in such a vanquished state?

 No matter, she could sit and gawk at it another time. Her top priority was you.

 She shuffles through, and what she sees inside is incomparable to what is on the outside.

 The dusking light passes through each panel. Each color seeps in, reds and oranges paint the cobblestone pathway. Dead rose bushes fill the stone troughs that lined the hall. There's a lot of weeds and shriveled leaves.

 It was the definition of “hauntingly beautiful.”

 She ambled through, taking in the sights.

 It quite literally resembled hell.

 She was so lost in this place that she didn't pay attention to the scuffling that was coming in close behind her.

 Your vision is blurred. You are quite literally burning up, smoke evaporating off of you. Your lungs feel as if they've been strangled, leaving you to wheeze in what little air you can breathe.

 Your head is killing you.

 Emeritus scheduled one of the worst days for practice. You don't blame him, he just didn't know.

 You came here to be alone. You didn't even know this place existed, but it was perfect.

 The interior reminded you of home.

 “Home.”

 You could writhe up here the same way you would writhe down there.

 It was isolated enough so you couldn't venture out around the abbey, and so that no one could easily find you.

 No one was supposed to anyway.

 You were jostled from your withering when you heard the door creak open. You lifted your head from your hands when you heard footsteps.

 They were sparse, and some even dragged.

 They were unrecognizable.

You struggled to pull yourself to your feet, rolling over and clawing your way up.

 You had a hand in front of you to guide yourself.

There was another set of heavy wood doors connecting the actual greenhouse to the hall.

 You braced yourself, and weakly heaved them open.

 Through your heavy vision, you saw her .

 Cumulus had her back turned to you. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling. You didn't dare follow her gaze, seeing as she was truly the most beguiling thing here.

 You lurch forward, reaching for her.

“cumu….lus”

 She whirls around.

 And her eyes widen at the sight of you.

 The lining of your horns are peeling, exposing chunks of the tender flesh that was protected by it. Blood poured down your face in dark red rivulets. Smoke flows around you, and your clothes are torn to shreds.

 The worst part is how tired your eyes are.

 You try to walk to her, but you're so fatigued that your eyelids droop and you start to fall.

 You were prepared to hit the ground, but you were met with a warm softness.

 She caught you, and was now holding you under your arms. Her hands clutched what fabric was left of your uniform.

 She rubbed your back and eased you down so your head rested on her lap. You convulsed at her touch, hissing when she came too close to the base of your horns.

“ are hurt, why so far?”

 You didn’t have the strength to answer her. Right now, all you wanted to do was sit in silence. “ can walk? ”

 You shook your head. You’re too exhausted to move.

She lifts your head and spreads her legs out to get in a comfier position. Once settled, her claws itch at your scalp. She massages your head with slight pressure, which honestly feels so good given the circumstance.

 You whimper and tiredly bring a hand up to her knee.

 “ shh, are almost done ”

 She rubs your temples, seeing as how the enamel continues to peel. You start shaking.

 Cumulus is here for you. She doesn’t mind waiting for you . You’ve done the same for her a few times. She remembers being so embarrassed for you to see her in the same position you are, but you stayed by her side regardless.

She would take all this away from you if she could. Every ghoul has to go through this, sadly. It breaks her heart seeing anyone go through this. But it shatters seeing you go through it.

You white-knuckle the hem of her suit as your horns are at their final stage.

Your mouth is agape, but no sound comes out.

All you can do is hold onto your dear friend.

 And she lets you.

 She lets you dig your claws in her leg. She lets you scream and cry as loud as you need to. She lets you wipe the blood off on her clothes.

 She lets you be vulnerable.

You're so tired, and you're in so much pain.

 You pass out when the tips of them come undone.

 “ rest easy, {y/n}, ” she strokes the side of your face.

 She wishes she had more time with you like this, but you're both found by Mountain and Swiss.

 You're both a bloody mess.

 They don't question anything, they just help her carry you back to the church.

 You wake up in the infirmary yet again, but this time, no one is around you. Although, you do feel a weight on your torso.

You look down to see none other than Cumulus resting her head on folded arms, fast asleep.

 You smile and place a hand on her back.

 Her eyes flutter open.

 Seeing you're awake makes her sit upright.

“ are awake! how feeling? ” She clasps your hand in both of hers.

 You reach up to touch your horns and find that they're wrapped in bandages. There's a slight buzz in your head.

“sorry for not remember .”

 She looks away in shame.

You scoot up to her.

“no need,” you reply, taking her by the sides of her face to return her gaze to you.

“thanks for help. glad it was you.”

 Her eyes sparkled, the reddish-brown hues paling as she leaned into your touch.

“ as well as i,” she brings a hand up to rest on yours, further pressing flush against her.

 You kept this position for what felt like ages. You looked at her lovingly, and you want to say she reflected it.

 “ are… are feeling same? ”

 She finally put it into words.

 There’s a theory that ghouls can feel emotions on a much deeper level than the average mortal, that they can feel it through a simple touch.

 And with your hand on her cheek, it exclusively validates it into fact.

 Your thumb grazes her soft lips.

And you then pull her in by the chin, taking one last glimpse in those hellish eyes of hers.

And you kiss her.

She squeaks happily. Her stomach flips and her heart skips a beat. You’re so warm, not overheating like you were. And you’re so unexpectedly tender, gentle even.

 If she had a tail, it’d be wagging.

 You recede from her, leaving her mouth partially gaping open.

 “answer question?” You let out a breathless laugh.

 She giggles and nods, bringing one of your hands up to plant a kiss in the palm of it.

“ not know half of it! ”

 There’s a new scent to you, to both of you when you were given the ‘okay’ and discharged. No one questions either of you, but you best believe there was some gossip among the rest.

[in-ghost-we-trust]

no dew on the morning grass 

this is my first fic since I was 12. idk what insipred me to write but I did at 1 in the morning It's a re-write of that one scene from New Moon when Edward leaves Bella

724 words (baby fic)  

TW possible sewerslide thought? I don't know just don't want to trigger anyone

Dew was the type of ghoul to show affection. Once he was changed to a fire ghoul, his smile became nothing more than a memory, his hugs were few and far between. He wasn’t him. His pack could sense it, they tried to help, but he shut them out, he shut Papa out and the worst part; he shut you out. His “water lily”. You were his but ever since the change, it seemed as if you were nothing. 

Snow danced down onto the ministry's grounds, there were siblings of sin and ghouls running and throwing snowballs at one another. Yes, there were so many ghouls out, but you only looked for one. Your ghoul. Your dewdrop. He stood off to the side, face slightly looking angered. You catch his eye and run over to him, waving, almost slipping on the ice that covered the marble walkway, he saw this and caught you and helped you stand up straight.  

When you looked in his eyes, you could tell there was something wrong “dew?” you asked still in his arms. His face screwed up and fell and his eyes met yours again “_____ we need to talk” your mind raced, and your face painted with worry. He led you behind the greenhouse, which mountain was checking his trees in. Dew looked directly into your eyes  

“You don't belong in my world.” It felt like he had smacked you, you looked up at him, searching his eyes for any signs of an ill-tasted joke or a fault but, there was nothing. “I belong with you.” you say, no plead “no you don’t” he says with the bluntness of a plastic knife. You go to reach for his face, to cup it to hold him but he steps back from you “i. Don’t. Want. You.” each word was a stab to the chest, over and over again “you don’t want me” it wasnt a question it was just a statement to yourself. You didn’t know if you were in shock, you’d never been but if anything, this was it. “no. But I ask one thing” “a-anything” you choke out “Don't do anything stupid or reckless do you understand” “i- okay” it seems his face slightly softens “Don't worry. You're human. Time heals all wounds for your kind. Particularly if you're not reminded.” your heart stops, it drops to lucifer himself in hell 

 ‘’don't- please dew” he flinches at the nickname ‘’Try to understand. Every second with you is about restraint. You're too fragile. I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not. Reining myself in so I can be with a human.” something clicks in your brain “if this is about my soul, then take it. I don't care! I don't want it without you” you raise your voice “You're not good for me ______” everything stopped, his words rang in your head, your vision is blurred from the tears that pool in your eyes “I'm so sorry I let this go on for so long” he whispers and leans in to kiss your forehead. You blink, closed your eyes for just a second, he's gone “dew!?” you scream and run to the forest next to the abbey, not seeing him near the building. 

You run and run, hoping just maybe you'll find your love, that maybe you can fix whatever just had happened. You quickly become aware of the cold snow seeping into your shoes and the harsh wind that hits your face and hands. You stop running and turn in all directions. You were lost, in a literary since and an emotional since. Tear fall from your eyes like melting icicles, you fall to the freezing ground, shaking with grief ‘was that even the right word?’ it felt like he had died, like he was no longer on this earth.  

Moutain was the one to find you, he had followed you into the woods after he had heard you scream. He carried you back to the abbey, the siblings stared, and the ghouls had bolted over to you. They crowded mountain with questions, but he had no answers, he himself had no idea what had led to this.  

You haven't got out of bed since he had left, you just rot, you don’t get up, everyone tries to check in on you but all you do just float in and out of your body when they are there with you, you dont want their stupid sympathy, all you want is him but hes gone. There's no him. Why should there be a you? 

Chapter two 👆

[cherrycxkes]

”I love you” (Sh!tpost I forgot to post earlier)

⚠️Slightly suggestive warning⚠️[Bite mark at end]

Not really much effort into this. But according to Ibis paint, it took me 3 hours and 5 mins for all the drawings/sketches in this.

[wannabepoeticischiya]

fragments of caelum

It’s frightening… a love with a time limit. When he was the right person, with all the time in the world… and she was nothing but a fraction of time he’d experience. Something you know will end before it can even begin.

ao3: fragments of caelum pairing: sukuna x f! reader genre: romance, angst, heian era wc: 15.4k status: completed art by: usobuki_jj on twitter

Songs of the spring echoed in the courtyard, domed by an eternal blue sky, bordered by the stretching forests. Vines circled the barks of the trees, reaching far into their branches with hopes to touch the heavens. Sun rays thawed the dewdrops, casting them far into the depths of the sky.

Cradled underneath it all was the vessel of the King of Curses. The falls of his steps were the only rhythmic clatter clashing against the silence that blanketed the lands.

Haze of the early morning remained, tying everything to peace. No noise, no curses, no Sukuna.

Itadori continued his journey to the library where he knew no living sorcerer would ever step foot in. For what reason? Why, to run an errand for his all-time favorite teacher, Gojo Satoru, of course!

That place was as horrid as the curses they were trained to exorcise. It didn’t help that it was riddled in eerie quietness, or that the principal had these thick black curtains covering every window because he didn’t want those ancient manuscripts to crumble to ash and be blown away.

Quite simply it was a place he would never enter if he could help it.

Itadori pushed open the heavy wooden doors, hearing an ominous creaking sound emanate from it, going on and on for what seemed to be forever until the back of the door crashed against the wall with a loud bang.

The young sorcerer gulped, putting a foot forward, and trod as quietly as he could to the farthest corner of the room, where those papers (written with ancient runes no one ever really bothered to read) were dumped. Why his teacher wanted those, he didn’t know—Itadori wasn’t even sure if he could understand what was recorded in those, they were probably older than all of them plus Principal Gakuganji combined.

When he reached the very back, a dusty table greeted him along with a few books stacked up in the middle of it.

The sight had him asking, when was the last time anybody’s been here?

He sighed and picked up everything that cluttered the table. Mumbling about how the school needed to stop being cheapskates and hire a janitor.

One by one, he placed them back on the shelves, pondering which section they should go to, but it proved to be for naught since he couldn’t understand what most of them said.

Whether by accident or by fate, he knocked over a journal: weathered by the hands of time, pages golden with age. A compass was etched on its cover along with a name that had faded perhaps years before he was even born.

As he bent down to pick it up, an old picture slipped from one of the pages.

When his fingers grasped the object, Itadori realized it wasn’t a photograph, it was a drawing. One so detailed it deceived his eyes.

I guess cameras weren’t a thing back then, huh?

On its blotched page, a smiling girl could be made out. Her hands held up a peace sign over her closed eyes with one of her hands boldly slung over a man that only plastered on a ghost of a smile. Written on the side in messy little characters were:

'Ryōmen & (Y/n)' Auflage, 850

Itadori squinted, trying to see the face of the man—finding it strikingly familiar like someone he knew was tethered to the same features.

"Sukuna..." He called; eyes still glued to the sketch. Itadori wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

It was the King of Curses, feared by sorcerers and demons alike. But here, in this moment trapped in time he looked… human. As though he couldn’t be any farther from the names the world had called him.

"Oi! Sukuna! Do you know this lady?"

Itadori’s head remained free from thoughts. For a second he nearly believed that there was only a single soul inhabiting this body of his.

The silence remained, scattering like stardust through the stuffy and tense atmosphere. Itadori, who was once just curious began to worry about the demon king’s unresponsiveness.

It was strange. The oxygen in his lungs came in leveled breaths, yet his heart thudded so wildly in his chest he thought it would break free from its cage and start running to the ends of the world.

This woman couldn’t be any more than a stranger to him… so why?

"Where... where... did you get that?" Another voice, deeper in tune, laced with anger and sadness, broke the stagnancy.

It felt like his blood was pushing past its limits. His organs felt ignited, and his vision began to blur. This was Sukuna’s doing. To have him answer was rare enough as it is but to have him open the lid to his sentiments—have them pour in abundance that it became overwhelming for Itadori to handle—was never something so farfetched he couldn’t even dream of it.

"ITADORI!" Sukuna's voice echoed in his head, tearing apart his daydreams and bringing him back to reality.

 "Okay... Okay... Relax.” He breathed, coaxing his body to stop its trembling. “It just fell from one of the pages."

You kept it… even after all of that… idiot woman.

Itadori inspected the fragile piece of paper, careful to not let any scattered sunlight graze it for fear that it might crumble and fade for good.

He flipped past the cover of the book and carefully turned the pages. The words of the owner were inscribed in ancient text, one so archaic he doubts there were still records of it alive to this day.

It's old, that's for sure. Have other people seen this? It doesn't look like it's been touched for years.

"Sukuna. Oi! Sukuna!" Itadori tried to call, only to be rewarded with disregard.

SUKUNA!

The young sorcerer grumbled, knowing he wouldn't get anything out of the—now surprisingly quiet—demon. So, he pulled out his cellphone and snapped a shot of the drawing, careful not to use a flash. He would get answers even if it killed him.

He slipped the drawing back into the journal, placing the artifact on the table.

Auflage's Hero: (L/n) (Y/n), the Little Liar.

Itadori ran.

Out of the library, down the winding halls, over the cobblestone pathway; drowsiness being overpowered by his overwhelming curiosity. He rushed to find the person he knew that'd know the answers he so desperately wanted to hear, Gojō Satoru.

Was this the reason why he sent him there? To find that? To see Sukuna in a way he never would have imagined?

Leaves of springtime began to fall, littering the grey sidewalks and roads with silver and blushes of pink. Puddles from last night's apparent rainfall made the scent of warmth linger in the air.  

Glimpses of the open field slipped through the foliage, pushing him to hurry.

As he reached the final steps of the courtyard, he saw the person he was looking for.

"Gojō-sensei!" He called, trying to catch his breath.

The blindfolded man turned to look at the heaving form of his student.

"Itadori!" He enthusiastically bellowed before turning to face his students once more.

"See? You guys could learn a thing or two from him! You know... he can finish a 50-meter track within 3 seconds! Ain't that impressive huh? He could be a car!"

Itadori scrambled to his feet, approaching the happy figure of his sensei.

"Do you know someone named (L/n)?"

The albino-haired man seemed to be deep in thought, his pointer finger repeatedly tapping on his chin before joyfully declaring his knowledge on the topic. "I do! In fact, there's an entire clan of them! Bow-using priests and priestesses. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?"

"(Y/n)?" Itadori’s question rang, shadowed by a sonorous tune.

A mischievous smile plastered on Gojō's face, "You know her, Sukuna?"

Perhaps this was his plan all along, to rile the King of Curses into silence. Force him to relive a memory written down as one of the greatest achievements in sorcerer history.

"Tch. Who could forget?"

And it worked because the demon king never resurfaced for the rest of the day.

"What does he mean by that, Sensei?"

"Yeah. Why would someone as evil as Sukuna have ties with the sacred clan of (L/n)?"

"Why'd he suddenly get all chatty when he heard (Y/n)-chan's name?”

Question after question left the mouth of his students, flooding his ears, making his head spin.

"All right. All right, I'll tell you... just be quiet. Come on, let's all go inside."

---

Welcome to AUFLAGE.

The sign that welcomed visitors to the town was old, decorated in ivy and overgrown flora. Some of the white paint had already begun peeling off, and the wooden board where the words were engraved had its edges ridden by termites.

Please d i e slowly.

And that same sign gave travellers a very warm welcome.

Auflage was a little village near the end of society. Covered by thick forests of the west, flagged by towering mountains in the north and south, bordered by the sea in the east.

The isolation eased the nerves of its citizens, chains of brooks and rivers that circled around the town were considered a protective barrier by the old folks that resided there. They claimed that it was what protected them from the curses of the outside world.

In that same village resides a happy young woman. Easily swayed by strangers, fooled by travelers, and convinced by the shadiest of stories. (L/n) (Y/n) was what they called her.

The carefree girl that lived near the brooks. Always stuck in her own world. She came into town one day dressed like a shrine maiden.

None of the townspeople knew where she had come from, nor did they bother to ask. Perhaps she came from the next town over, or maybe even farther out in the cities. It didn’t matter. To have a new face linger for a few days was a delight, and they rejoiced at the news that she would be there to stay for a long time.

Her little home was far into the woods, a small humble hut littered with firewood, still, the people of Auflage accepted and loved her.

As the trees swayed to the rhythm of Mother Earth, her figure emerged from the thick mist. Her zori sounding in soft thuds as it hit the hardened earth. Thin golden armbands glinted in the faint light of the sun that slowly seeped through the cracks of the mountains.

The rest of her figure came into the scene, dressed in a pair of wide-legged, pleated trousers, dyed in bright red, a white kimono-style upper clothing held in place by a wide belt, with sleeves that flared at the wrists fluttering ever-so-softly in the wind.

Adults and children alike were scattered across the small village. The little ones chasing their friends around, laughing joyously without a care for the world.

It was a simple sight that she saw every day but every time she laid eyes on it, it grew more and more special.

The lady made her way across town and entered the local tavern, guided by one of the strongest shamans out there.

(Y/n) took a seat on one of the many unoccupied stools in the building.

"One mug of cider please."

Her forehead met the wooden counter, still drowsy from the early wake-up call. The sound of her plea got the attention of the flair man.

"Ah! (Y/n)-san! Always good to see you!" He cheered, wiping a glass to use for her request.

"Good to see you to Amaury-dono, how's the wife?" She raised a hand in greeting, eyes still rooted to the floorboards.

Amaury only smiled at the girl as he finished up her fill, "She's good, Arne is due in a few weeks so got to work hard."

He placed the mug of cider in front of her as (Y/n) mumbled a silent ‘thanks’.

Creaks of the opening door dragged Arne’s attention to the incoming patronage. "Welcome! What'd be for today Seizou-sama?"

Seizou shook his head and took off his sun hat, revealing his balding scalp and the wrinkles that etched themselves on his face, resembling the years that passed in his life. Hanging it on one of the hooks near the door.

"Nothing of the sort lad, just came here to issue a request."

Amaury nodded and smiled, nonetheless.

"Sure thing, let me just get some papers in the storage."

(Y/n) lifted her head to see Amaury's retreating form, his back getting further and further away until he disappeared around the corner.

Once she was certain he was out of earshot, (Y/n) faced the trembling man.

"What kind of request is it, Seizou-san?"

Seizou gave her a sad gaze, one where despair and hopelessness ravaged in those fading irises of blue. "Killing the king of curses."

(Y/n) pondered on the thought. In all her years living here, she only came across that title a couple of times when it was whispered amongst warriors and hunters or woven into a tale of caution.

Beware the demon king by night, With blazing eyes and fangs so bright.

The scrolls that the village owned were useless; moth-eaten, fading as the days passed. And even if they weren’t, the priestess wasn’t fortunate enough to know how to read—such a luxury reserved for nobility.

His whispers lure in dreams unseen, To snatch away the pure and clean.

Of course, rumors and stories flutter past her ears every once in a while. Parents told the tales of the demon king who will take you away to his palace if you don’t eat all your vegetables. Even depict him as a being with horns and wings with sharp jagged teeth. There were the occasional sketches that went around if a painter was visiting town, albeit (Y/n) doubts if they will ever ring true.

Walk the paths where lanterns glow, Stray too far and the dark will show.

"Say, what... what brought this on hmm? What makes you think that this 'king' even exists?"

It was difficult to believe that which you have not seen for yourself. Much more to fear a creature you have never once met.

The aging man only sighed, he couldn’t blame the young woman, really.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the seat near hers.

"Be my guest."

Seizou situated himself on the stool only a few feet away from the girl.

"The king of curses is no mere legend, miko. Few of my kin have encountered him during the hunting season, saying there lay a creature in the woods far too fast for the eyes to see, resilient to the sharpest of blades—the strongest of swordsmen. But it was no forest beast… it was a demon. The vilest of them all. No shaman could bring him down. Calamity falls on the cities he ventures. Towns reduced to ashes from his wrath. He spares no one, not women nor children. They say that he has four arms and a mighty build. His body adorned in ink; eyes dyed red from all his bloodshed. Only he had four, prodding at you every which way; so deformed one would think he had two faces. My son... tried to... hunt him down and never came home. Soon, my youngest also attempted to do it, he too... never returned."

(Y/n) listened earnestly to his tale as she shifted in her seat, resting her cheek on her fist. "Say he really does exist...” she entertained, still skeptical of the demon’s existence.

“Surely, you can’t expect people to do this for such a noble reason as vengeance?”

"Of course not. I’m putting all my fortune into this. At the very least, if someone were to defeat him... It'd do great for the future."

The girl looked towards the window seeing the clouds swirl and darken over the once azure sky, feeling something creep up her spine. "Oi, Mr. Seizou..." she called.

His fading icy blue eyes clashed with her (e/c) irises. "I'll do it. I'll kill him."

---

At the rise of daybreak, (Y/n) prepared for her estimated lengthy adventure. From sharpening blades to making wards to stocking up on food and other necessities that she needed to live.

The priestess wrapped her things in a large cloth, hiding the little things in the pockets of her kosode. 

She barricaded her windows and finally locked the door. (Y/n) was sure she wasn’t returning here for a while. Although it was sad, for she had grown to love her humble home, it had to be done.

After grabbing the map (given by Seizou) that supposedly leads to the castle of the king, the priestess took off on what will be a year-long journey to the kingdom of the demon king.

As she walked the cobblestone path of Auflage—the last one for a very long time so it seemed—stores of all kinds and sizes that a great deal of things welcomed her vision. From bakeries to armories to the newly established livelihoods. For a town near the end of the world, it sure held a lot of variety.

Despite having been in town for a long time, the structures and the people still fascinated her.

(Y/n) decided to stop by one of the stores that recently opened.

A jingling sound flooded her ears, ringing all throughout the space, the moment she opened the door. A sign perhaps… that somebody entered the place.

The priestess observed her surroundings, weapons were fastened to the mahogany walls, huge beams of wood holding the building upright. Daylight streamed through the windows of the door, and there it lingered. Torches lined the posters, bringing luminescence to the room clouded in shadows.

What caught her attention were the odd-looking things lining the shelves. From swords to butcher knives to just rotten banana peel-designed wrappings.

(Y/n)’s stare drifted from one trinket to another, finding them so strange from the usual apparatuses used by the shrine maidens. What kind of shop is this? Is that a toenail?

"What'd it be for you, missy?"

Her curious gaze met the eyes of the man at the end of the aisle, clothed in a humble grey hakama and kosode.

"I see a lot of cursed energy pilling up inside you." He commented, eyeing the products he had for sale. Surely, he must have thought them odd, too.

"I beg your pardon?"

The tiny keeper laughed, clutching his stomach at how hilarious he was. His hunched form and disheveled appearance approached the weary figure of the priestess.

"You see that man over there," the woman looked to where his bony finger pointed to, "you're somewhat similar to what he is." He smiled, crossing his hands behind his back.

At the other side of the store was a muscular man, cautiously looking over the things that were on display. His ears catching patches of the conversation that was quietly weaving behind him.

"—could learn a thing or two from him."

The tiny old hunchback walked to the back of his shop, soon coming out with a bow and a case of arrows in his arms.

"I'll rent it to you," he casually dropped the weapon in her arms, not minding the clatter that followed as a few of the arrows fell to the floor, "if you come back alive, you can have it. If you don't, I’ll charge everything on your descendants."

If the wind could penetrate through the thick walls, (Y/n) was sure that it would blow everything away... everything including her.

She looked to the odd man; his posture, appearance—even just the fact that he was running some quack shop sent warning signals all over her head.

"Kill the king for me, too."

---

(Y/n) walked the final steps that would lead her to the ends of the village, one where the forest path lies ahead: the only entrance and exit to Auflage.

She passed through the large torii gate that welcomed travellers to the estranged town and soon, she also passed the broken sign that should've spelled drive instead of d i e.

Towering trees flagged her vision, the endless ocean of green and yellow littering the ground, accompanied by the rhythmic orchestra of the fauna made her head go into a frenzy of cautiousness.

(Y/n) had already made the journey through the woods halfway. If she kept at this pace, she would reach the town before eventide.

Still, it did not make her ventures a whole less eerie.

It's quiet. Too quiet.

The echo of a snap compelled her to turn her head towards the direction of the sound, to find a culprit for her startle.

The scene that greeted her was certainly, how do you put it...

Odd.

"Handsome, aren't I?" He smirked.

"More like strange..." The priestess countered cautiously, eyeing the man behind the trees.

"And handsome."

"It must be nice to have such vain concerns." She sneered.

The stranger emerged from where he hid behind the tree, his pink hair spiking in meaningless directions, clothes barely covering the areas it was supposed to cover. His body was packed with muscles, like he had all the food to eat with no one to share, yet he appeared somewhat wounded.

But what made (Y/n) halt her observations was the striking crimson pooling in his irises, as though every shade of red was made just so he could have it. It must be a trick of the light, surely. For what human could be blessed with such beauty that even the gods might envy him for it.

“If you draw me now, you might finish it by twilight.”

Alas, he had a foul mouth on him. And it irked the priestess—especially when he was saying such atrocities with that sickeningly haughty grin and a face drawn with ink. I’ll put you in your place, you pig!

"What're you doing in the middle of the woods?" She questioned, forcing her patience to reach further. "Almost naked at that."

(Y/n) gestured to his beaten figure.

"If you wanted a quick coin, you could at least have tried a town. You’re not going to sell much out here with tanukis and foxes."

Pinky boy tilted his head to the side, amusement glimmering in his red eyes. "Do you not know who I am?"

Taken aback by the sudden question, (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at him. "Am I supposed to?"

The stranger grinned wider at her retort, doubling over in laughter because to him, the tiny little priestess was oh-so amusing.

"Interesting..." pinky hair chuckled, wiping the water from his eye.

"I'm Ryoumen." He declared, spreading his arms out in a grand boisterous gesture.

"I didn't ask... but okay. I'm (Y/n)." The priestess bowed humbly.

Orchestras of birds hastily fluttering their wings and taking off interrupted their conversation. Soon, gray clouds blotted the sky, thunder echoing through every nook and corner of the forest.

“I can walk with you until the next village, it’s just around two hundred and twenty-five cho away*. If we walk now, we can reach it by twilight."

(*30 km or 18 miles)

“Heh?” He smirked, raising a brow at her bold offer.

“Or you can just stay here and freeze to death,” (Y/n) shrugged, turning her back to him, and soon started to walk away. “Either way, I offered so my conscience is clean~” she waved, “Don’t curse me if you die out here.”

---

"Gojō-sensei! Who's Ryoumen?"

"That's Sukuna's last name. Now shut up or I'll leave you all hanging."

--

"You want to kill the king of curses?" Sukuna laughed at her declaration.

(Y/n) forgetting all about her manners, hurriedly slurped every bit of noodle left in the bowl before slamming it down on the table. "So, what if I do?"

The man scoffed and flicked her forehead, "I think you're a hundred years too early to be trying that."

She slapped his arm away, ignoring his jibe. "I can do it. It’s what I always wanted to do ever since I arrived at Auflage. Besides, you wouldn't know until you try."

"Your optimistic attitude will be the only reason you'll make it to the gates of his temple."

His comment caught the priestess’s interest, eyes shining with wonder and admiration that agitated the pink-haired man. 

"You've been there, old man?"

"Don't call me that.” He glared at her. 

“And... yeah. I have. That's why you saw me in such a state." Sukuna crossed his arms over his—still naked—chest, defensively.

His statements were half a lie, half the truth. When he realized his hesitance, he briefly wondered, why in heaven’s name was he guessing over what words to say.

Sukuna had gone there, of course—it was his home, after all. And he got battered and beaten from destroying town after town, chased by some shamans who wanted to take his head.

Still, he lied just as easily as he killed. Finding that his resolve faltered when she looked at him with such shameless appreciation…

"Ain't that cool!" She beamed and flashed him a charming smile, "Hey~ teach me, will you?"

Sukuna broke free from his daydreams, shackling himself back into reality where he left no room for such foolish thoughts.

"No. I don't teach. I don't have anything to teach you."

The priestess deflated at his rejection, eyes watering and lips quivering. "You’re a real pain." she silently mumbled.

(Y/n) sniffed, intakes of breath growing more and more frantic by the second.

Then the tears came streaming down her face, gaining the attention of the people, and fast.

Oh... she's good.

"W-Why... why... WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!"

His eyes widened at her yell, "Wha—"

"After all we've been through?!" She stood up and slammed her hands on the table, making the porcelain and silverware that littered the furniture clatter.

Murmurs erupted from the people who silently watched the scene unfold. To them, it looked like (Y/n) and the pink-haired man were having a lover's quarrel... but none of them could see the glinting mischief that pooled in the eyes of the priestess.

She's worse than me.

Sukuna didn’t know what to make of this silly little woman. It unnerved him so, he could have killed every single person in this inn, even burn the entire town to cinders… yet he remained—staring at her with unmanned wonder.

"YOU DID IT WITH HER DIDN'T YOU?"

Confusion rattled his soul, "I don't know what you're talking about—" he really didn't, they haven’t even spent one moon together!

One thing was clear, (Y/n) was causing a scene... and it was a very convincing one at that.

"YOU RAILED MY MOTHE—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Sukuna’s hand covered her mouth. Eyes widening to bowls at her supposed declamation.

"Fine, I'll teach you—just... be... shut your foul mouth." He harshly whispered in her ears.

The curse really didn’t know how he agreed… or why. Perhaps it was the lingering murmurs, or the boredom waiting to be tamed. Still, in the darkest corners of his soul… it remained, this little spark that soon will blossom into raging fire—casting his world alight.

Sukuna grabbed her hand and led her out of the varying gazes of the people inside the establishment.

"Now that wasn't so difficult, right?" (Y/n) placed her hands on her hips and laughed at the painted expression of annoyance that colored his face.

“For a priestess, you’re pretty scummy.” Sukuna sneered.

“Hah! Jokes on you, I’ve heard worse than that, Ryoumen~”

He stole a glance at her at the mention of his name, one of the many, he reminds.

Sukuna realizes it then… that it was the first time someone’s lived long enough for his name to be voiced in his presence. It had always been Sukuna-sama with him, or Demon king, beyond that there was nothing at all.

Despite having many titles, he was hardly called. As embarrassing as it was to admit, many years would pass without a living soul uttering his name. He would often forget about it, failing to recall that he had one in the first place.

So, to hear it now with his own ears felt strange. Sent him reeling back into the darkest corners where there was nothing but the familiar oblivion—away from that fickle flame.

Because how would he make of it when she lets it flow past her lips with such gentle familiarity? Like he was given that name so long ago just so she could call him that here at this very moment—that her voice will string with that title for every crimson moon to come. For every passing lifetime.

Silence covered the distance between them, leaving the faint rumble of people talking and laughing to echo in their wake. Flames that danced from the lanterns cast an orange glow over their faces, painting their shadows in elongating strokes.

(Y/n) exhaled loudly before she started prancing around him like a lost horse.

"What'll it be, huh? Martial Arts?" She ghosted punches over his form, pretending to kick the air.

Idiot.

"One of those fancy breathing techniques with the sword thing I keep hearing about?" She grabbed a stick and lightly hit the impassive man on both sides.

Sukuna, irked at her ministrations, grabbed the stick and broke it into two then threw it to the sides.

"Can I breathe fire?"

"What about water?"

“Hey! Wait up!” (Y/n) chased after the form of the walking man. 

"What about those chakra things? With the psschhooww and the wham and bam will I be able to do that?"

Sukuna dragged a hand over his face, silently questioning the decisions he makes whenever he had nothing to do with his time.

Man, she's annoying.

The priestess and the king of curses continued their journey, treading the path until the cobblestone faded into hardened earth and the midnight sun shone overhead.

They halted in front of a small hut on the side of the road, with shattered windows, fungi blanketing the roof of the small shack. No flicker of fire could be seen inside the humble house.

It kind of reminded (Y/n) of her home back in Auflage.

"We'll stay here for the night." Sukuna forced his way into the house. If this was compliant with the Shogun’s law, the priestess didn’t want to know. She just hopes that whoever owns this shack wouldn’t mind if they occupied it for a little while.

Clinks of glassware being broken, wood scraping against the floors, thuds of heavy objects hitting the ground. The sounds made her worry.

Soon enough, Sukuna emerged from the doorway, leaning his forearm against the threshold, his other hand holding an unlit lantern.

"There's no light though..."

"Really? You're gonna worry about lights when you're literally going across the country to kill the king of curses?" He stood to his full height and towered over the priestess.

The gentle breeze of the evening swayed the (h/c) threads that were planted firmly on her head, a shiver crawling up her spine as the cold wind bit against her body.

"Please don't kill me!" She wailed in mock panic, shutting her eyes tight.

"I'm not going to kill you, you maniac. I should be worried if you're gonna kill me." He defended.

"You don't have to be so defensive about it." (Y/n) ceased her act and rolled her eyes at him.

I want to kill her so badly... she's so annoying.

(Y/n) turned to face the man, the light of the imprisoned fire casting a faint glow of orange on her face. How he managed to set it ablaze, she had no clue.

For a moment she looked at him like she wanted to say something, but she held back. Probably something stupid, he thought.

Her pondering continued until she let out a laugh, eyes glinting with scheme and mayhem, smirking up at the tall man. "You're not going to take advantage of me, are you?"

A flash of fire rushed past her head and blew a hole through the wall of the already rundown shack. "WHAT WAS THAT?"

"I'm not gonna take advantage of you... you sicko!" Sukuna fisted his free hand, restraining every bit of anger in his soul. To think this—this demon spawn could even be the least bit grateful!

Oh, he's mad.

"That was a curse. That's what you'll be learning first thing tomorrow." He lectured, handing her the lamp and pushing her through the doorway, "NOW SLEEP!" before he slammed the door shut.

The King of Curses remained standing under the stars, trying his best to restrain the bubbling urge to incinerate everything in his sight.

What in the world am I doing? He sighs, walking further into the rice fields.

Sukuna sat under a tree, a great distance away from the hut. The cicadas sung their melodies into the night, frogs croaking from the side. He watched aimlessly as the curses circled around the area of his energy, seeing them lurk around the edges of the forest, or peek from the foliage yet remained a means too far for them to be harmed.

If only that idiot priestess was the same.

The light from the lamp gradually faded, a sign that she was yielding to slumber. Curses weren’t tethered by such earthly needs. Sukuna had no need for food or water either. He simply indulged in the flavors they brought but he held no obligation to them.

She held a striking difference to him.

Long after she had passed from the memories of every person she had met, their children, and their children’s children, Sukuna would live on for the centuries to come.

The priestess was so painfully mortal. A hand from him would send her soul to the borders of death. A slip—a mistake. A burst of anger, an annoyance, if she were to be at the end of his temper…

Sukuna pondered then, if he should leave.

This has been nothing but a simple detour. A way to kill the time he just had so much of.

But she shone like fire through the abyss that it made looking away impossible. Because when you’ve known nothing but resentment, you’ll latch yourself to any form of kindness that shows your way.

---

Light of daybreak refracted the early morning dews like prisms, casting the colors of the sun into the haze of dawn.

"WAKE UP RYOUMEN!"

(Y/n) banged together a metal ladle and a metal pot while repeatedly saying her new favorite phrase, 'WAKE UP RYOUMEN!'.

"I'm up! I'M UP WOMAN! STOP YOUR DAMN NOISE!" He grabbed the utensils out of her hand and threw them out the window. “You’ll wake the entire village with your racket!”

In the end, Sukuna returned before the break of sunrise, telling himself that he’ll play along until the act gets old, or he grows too tired to keep up—until his patience wears thin, or she dies. Whichever comes first. He didn’t know then… that those were all just excuses.

For a priestess, she has such a terrible attitude.

“Hey, um…”

Sukuna looked from the broken window (a lot more broken than last night) to the priestess.

Her cheeks were dyed as scarlet as her hakama, hands behind her back as she bit her lip.

“I just… wanted to say… that—”

Irked by her stalling, he snapped. “Spit it out, miko!”

“THANK YOU FOR COMING ALONG!” Startled by her words, (Y/n) quickly covered her mouth like she could hardly believe she had said those words of her own free will.

“What I meant was that… that… uhmm…”

A firm hand covered the expanse of her head, ruffling the already unkempt threads.

“I said I would, didn’t I? I don’t break promises.”

The king would never know how his simple truth would tether the priestess to him. How the words he spoke on a whim would be the frail vow that would shackle her until the day she dies. That it would latch onto him as tightly… just like he had held onto her.

(Y/n) beamed at him from under his arm, grabbing the shoulders of the tall man and shaking him back and forth, "Teach me then, o great one."

Sukuna led the priestess to a large clearing. Far from the prying eyes of any other mortal.

Reaching the area with a large tree (the same one he had idled under last night). He told her to stay a few steps back.

Sukuna spiralled his focus in a single breath—

“Ready when you are!”

“Be quiet!”

Once more, he breathed in, his posture upright and relaxed yet brimming with intensity. Sukuna’s eyes narrowed sharply as he channeled his cursed energy, hand rising with fluid grace. His fingers parted in deliberate gestures, steering the power that sparks and swirls to take the shape of a fiery arrow. In a controlled motion, he draws his arm back, the flames burning brighter every passing second.

Then he fired, sending the arrow straight to the tree, burning through it, and blasting open a boulder on the other side of the field.

Pleased with the small display of destruction, he turned to the priestess with sheer delight. Finding that she had her jaw dropping to the ground from shock.

“You’ll be learning that miko.” Sukuna smirked, jutting his thumb at the fiery wake of his technique.

Snapping out of it, she shut her mouth and readied herself to protest, “Are you kidding me?! I can’t do that!” (Y/n) crossed her arms, glaring at him all the way from where she stood a hundred feet away.

“It’s the only beginner trick I know!” He hollered, silently snickering at her predicament. “Kids could do twice as much if they tried!”

“You cheat! That’s a lie and you know it! You’re the worst teacher ever!” The priestess fumed, snarling at him from the distance, shaking a fist in the air from sheer annoyance.

Sukuna slowly crossed the distance between them, taking in her angered image. It amused him seeing her so riled up from a single comment. Human emotions were truly as fickle as their lives. 

The sun glared brightly over their heads. Still, its rays fell warmly for what seemed to be the first time in half a century.

As he drew closer, he craned his neck to catch her gaze. “You’re already giving up?” He teased, shaking his head in disappointment, “What happened to all that hope? Come on~”

“Why you—”

“OI! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU SCOUNDRELS ARE DOING? YOU BURNED MY TREE DOWN!”

The priestess looked to the raging villager in panic, getting ready to kowtow for forgiveness while Sukuna didn’t even spare a passing glance as he stood uprightly.

“I think… we should…” She looked to Sukuna with a diabolical grin, finding that he did not even show the slightest bit of emotion on that inked face of his. With a shake of her head at his indifference, the priestess intertwined her hand with his and tugged him forward breaking forth into a—“… run.”

“Hey! Get back here!”

She laughed, the melody echoing between the borders of the valley and his ears, feeling his soul calm at the sound.

The unusual duo ran from the angry man, stopping only once they heard no footsteps chasing after them.

Sukuna has never run from something so obscenely foolish—he reckons he never ran away from anything at all. There existed no creature who could make him fear for his life or sweat from nerves.

Still, even as he tried to deny, he could not shake off this excessive thrumming in his heart—screaming that getting dragged by this human was just a teeny tiny bit fun.

---

For days and weeks on end, that became their routine: wake up because of the loud banging (whether it be a broken sword, a wooden stick, or an out-of-tune biwa), eat (mostly just for the priestess), go to a clearing, practice techniques that can easily be done by a kid if the teacher wasn’t such a jerk to his student that obviously wasn’t a kid but a priestess who could only try so hard!

If they were lucky, angry mobs of people wouldn’t come chasing them out of the village… that was very rare. It had them sleeping in marshes, openings of an old tree, caves.

(Y/n) didn’t mind. In her heart, so long as Ryoumen was there for her every waking moment she was certain that everything would be alright.

But it could not be said for the rest of the world.

Soon enough, tales of the king of curses traveling with a priestess began circulating from town to town. Undoubtedly originating from the folks they startled half to death, given their flashy explosions and endless bickering.

In twilight's glow, the priestess strides. The demon king at her side.

They knew nothing. All those foolish humans and shamans conjuring their own truths to soothe their fear, to vanquish uncertainties, to pin their accusations on whoever was close enough to be suitable.

His eyes aflame, her heart of grace. Souls entwined in a wicked embrace.

But if the world ran on scales being tilted to fair and unjust then there would be no need for rulers. Reality remains: the truth can be muddied and lies can come as clear as water. If people in power put their faith in that notion, who were the unfortunate as to question them so?

Calamity awaits this dark dance, A fate in ruin, a cursed chance.

Stories of the king’s companion reached the ears of power, binding the unknown priestess in a place far from where she actually stood. It was simple, really. If one cannot get to the root, you stick the poison in the bark until it seeps in and kills it from within.

For those who lived in torment of his existence would stop at nothing if it meant eliminating him from the lands.

O priestess pure, who dared to scheme, With demon king, forsake your dream. In shadows deep, your light shall wane, A traitor's fate, eternal pain.

Bound to the fiend, your soul will weep, In eternal gloom, your spirit keep. For conspiring with the devil's might, In endless night, lose all your light.

“Curse the traitor who dares to walk the shadows.”

Wades of grass swayed from the broken gale, leaves rustling until the breaths of their life got carried into the blue ether.

“Oi, get up.” Sukuna loomed over the hunched form of the tired priestess, looking down on her with bordered patience.

The woman panted and tried to catch her breath, pushing her palms against her knees to hoist her body upwards. “Yeah… just… give me a… second.”

“I can see the sun go across the sky, that’s how long you’re taking.”

“That’s so rude—” her body was suddenly shaken by violent coughs, sending her crumbling to her knees. "I think I might be coming down with something." She laughed, looking up and flashing him a forced grin.

"Yeah, the wrong idea." He jeered, poking her forehead.

"It might be a cold." The priestess tried to put forward, grabbing the hand that continuously knocked on her head to help hoist her upright.

"Don't be ridiculous.” Sukuna scoffs, prying his arm from her once she’d found footing, tucking it under his battered kimono. “Idiots are too dumb to catch a cold."

“Right? That’s why you’ll never have to worry about getting sick!” She laughs, walking past him and onwards the path they had to tread.

Sukuna, frozen where he stood, could only stare and watch as her figure got further and further away. Draped over by the daylight that lingers around her, loyal as they come. Clothes that fluttered in the wind like waves crashing against the shore. Eyes that looked back at him when she noticed his footfalls weren’t anywhere near hers.

He wasn’t so sure if he was angry at her comment… or relieved that she was alright.

Even now as she waved at him from so far away, her sleeves waltzing with the breeze, Sukuna couldn’t see any of those hurtful resentments—the ones that he was most familiar with—as though they had not existed at all.

“I’m leaving you if you don’t hurry up!” she yelled, cupping her hand near the side of her mouth to have her voice reach him.

Foolish little human, he would think. He could cross that distance in the blink of an eye, even appear at the gates of his home without a single breath passing. Still, he chose to walk alongside this priestess… wasting the time he just had so much of.

But deep down, he knew. He was happy that he was wasting all his time with her.

---

“If you don’t feel well just say so, idiot miko.” Sukuna knelt beside her heaving form, his shoulder being the only thing stopping her from falling to a crumpled heap on the floor.

“No… I’m… I’m fine.” She caged the fabric of his clothing between her fingers, chasing the breath she kept on losing even from a simple exercise like walking to a clearing. “I just… need—I just need to catch my breath… that’s all.”

Sukuna shifted in his position, slumping on the hardened soil, allowing her weight to fall on him completely.

“You’ve been saying that for the past week.” He reminds, planting a hand to support both their weights.

“You don’t seem to be getting better.” Sukuna’s fingers carded through her hair, wanting to untangle them… only they stuck to his digits like glue, bunching up in his hand like he had yanked it straight from her scalp.

“Yeah… sorry about that.” Her chuckles sounded tired, as though it took everything in her to even force it out. The priestess loosened her grip on him, letting her hand fall.

Time felt warped in those few arbitrary seconds, perhaps he was just imagining that it did; never quite admitting the bothersome whirring his heart would emit when he saw her struggling all this time. It was fine when he was the one to cause her little setbacks, because she, too, took part in riling him up. But it was an all too different matter when it was caused by something else.

Still, in those few passing moments, the pieces seemed to gravitate together. And he yells at himself for ignoring the warnings. His agitated energy, the flutter of his power, the unsettling gloom trailing past her shadow. The coughs, her hair… the patches of green and violet decorating her skin.

Even from a few moons ago, he shouldn’t have brushed it off. The priestess would wake in the dead of the night screaming—yelling that something was out to get her. She’d jump at the slightest rustle, asking if Sukuna felt it too… that someone was watching them. Her sadness from the hostility of the animals from the villages, or that she wasn’t as happy as she used to be… that it probably killed her inside just to pretend that she was alright.

Sukuna pushed the priestess, not enough to get her to let go, but far enough for him to be able to see the dark circles under her eyes and within them, the hazy reflection of the one that had been cursing her.

---

“Your wife seems to be in terrible condition.” The shaman from the village inspected the priestess, squinting his eyes in what looked to be pretend observation. Of course, anybody, be it human or curse, could see that she wasn’t doing well.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, not even bothering to correct that the woman was not his wife—he’d rather eat his own fingers than be bound to her for eternity.

“Well, let her stay here for a few days to get her energy back. It’s a long way from the one hexing her so she should be alright.” The human excused himself from Sukuna, leaving him to stare at the bedridden form of the priestess.

With every stutter of her breath, the twitches in her closed eyes, even the faintest mumbles that slipped past her lips, Sukuna found himself clinging to the moments when her laughter would ring in his ears, that she’d poke fun at him and say he was walking like an old man, or when she’d complain and say she was tired… that she wanted to sleep and eat until she couldn’t breathe.

Back then, it all looked so foolish; annoying if nothing. On days like those, he wished she would just cease her endless chatter—even if it was for less than an hour—or that she would tire herself out from running around like a child, or that she would stop asking all those unnecessary questions.

Why is the sky blue?

What’s your favorite season?

Where do you want to live once this adventure is over?

But one would never really know the value of a moment until it’s forced to become a memory.

He drew closer to her, raising his arm in a languid manner, a spark of blue flame dancing on the tips of his fingers.

Sukuna’s hand lingered above her body, hesitant to cast the spell that would end her torment. He wouldn’t have admitted it, and he knew that he never will, but in that space in time—a little rift that belonged to him alone—he trembled in fear.

What would she make of him if she ever found out? That the king she had so desperately sought was the same being walking alongside her. The same one who was at the receiving end of her kind smiles and warm affection. What would you think of me… if you knew the truth?

It was easier that way. To hide. To run. To cower away from all that he deserved from the one person he didn’t want to look at him that way: In fear, in hatred, in contempt. Because beyond that, Sukuna didn’t know where to be. He couldn’t bear to know what would become of him if the priestess would see him the way humans did. The vile curse who killed anyone in his wake. Sukuna. Calamity bringer. Demon king.

But the sight of her in pain, plagued by the nightmares conjured by a wicked sorcerer, weakened by the spell wrongfully placed on her, haunted by the waking thought that it would never get better.

No. that’s too much.

Sukuna let the fire fall, burning away the remnants of harm thrown at her. Swearing to himself that he would not let her suffer for his sake.

If she were to wake one day and realize her mistakes, then it would just have to be the monument of his retribution. He would take it, so long as it was not right now… here, where the fervent longing in his heart blazed for nothing but the priestess. Burning so fiercely, blinding any other thought, because he didn’t want anything, not the humans or the curses, to take her away from him.

Not the human who fearlessly led him through the forest, clung to him like he was the one who held all the answers, looked at him like he had hung the stars in the sky.

Not when he wished for nothing but to stay by the miko’s side.

---

A hundred million lights shone on the midnight canvas overhead, illuminating the world in a soft glow, casting faint drizzles of warmth to cover the face of the sleeping girl—no longer running from the darkness.

Sukuna never left the room. For if she was here, then there was no need for him to be anywhere else.

Yet once more, the world—or rather, his subordinate—begged to differ.

"Sukuna-sama."

The demon king spared not even a passing glance at the sudden entry of the white-haired servant, choosing to keep his crimson stare pinned on the priestess.

"Oh, Uraume." He acknowledged emptily.

"I have been looking across the country—"

"Get lost. I don't need you right now." He was quick to dismiss his servant’s urgency with a wave of his hand.

Uraume placed a foot in protest, although hasty to rescind when a sharp glare emanated from the eyes of the demon king. "But Sukuna-sama, the sorcerers..."

Fed up with the useless rambling, Sukuna let out an exasperated sigh, "What? Are you so weak that you can't take care of a few little humans?" he ridiculed.

"They are dabbling with the forbidden arts, Sukuna-sama." Uraume tried desperately to raise even a grain of attention in the king’s heart, yet he remained impassive to the situation all the same. "One was recently sighted to have cursed a few nobility—"

Sukuna leaned back in his chair even more, resting his cheek on his fist and glancing at his servant from the corners of his eyes. "Since when have I cared for others, Uraume? Let them die."

His words were cold, uncaring, and cruel… but not once has he torn his gaze from the soul resting on the cot.  

Uraume thought it to be strange. The king of demons had spent so long treating the lives of others as nothing less than dirt under his foot, yet he held this fleeting human he’s known for less than six full moons as a treasure he could not look away from.

It wasn’t any of the servant’s business. How Sukuna chose to spend his time is out of Uraume’s concern. Uraume merely has to report to Sukuna and take care of all the things he didn’t want to concern himself over.

"She did from the grounds of her home, Sukuna-sama." Uraume tried not to falter from Sukuna’s heavy stare, choosing to bow instead of facing the angry expression painted on the king’s face. The servant did not want to be at the end of his wrath.

"Pink eyes? Blue hair?" His footsteps echoed within the small room, and Uraume was soon looking at the seams of a white kimono.

"Yes, Tsukumo Ren, are you perhaps acquainted with her—?"

"Kill her." Sukuna’s hostility forced the servant to the floor.

Now that Uraume has confirmed it, Sukuna had no doubts. Tsukumo Ren was the sorcerer behind those pools of (e/c) staring back at him that day. The same ones that used to look at him with all the hope in the world. The same ones that were glistening in pain—begging for him to put her out of her misery.

"Kill that sorcerer. That's an order."

The sound of fabric rustling had Sukuna withdrawing his energy, looking down on his servant in contempt before he tore his gaze and walked away.

“Leave.”

Uraume wasted not a single breath and teleported away. Either the servant obtains the sorcerer’s head, or Sukuna would be the one to take Uraume’s.

After what felt like eternities dragging on, the priestess had finally woken.

Sukuna pushed the gnawing sensation of relief down the depths of his soul.

He felt silly… feeling like that, for a human, no less.

"Were you… talking with someone… just now?" She rasped, hoisting herself to sit up.

But he would admit to it just once that in this moment, Sukuna was happy to be the one who stood here. To be the first thing she saw, the first voice she heard. To be the first person she thought of.

“No.” Sukuna was quick to deny, as he handed her a cup of water. “You were hallucinating.”

After being the object of contempt for many, many centuries… it was nice to know that beside her, he was wanted. Above all else, beyond rhyme and reason, when he was with her… he felt seen.

The priestess downed the liquid, feeling her the tightness in her throat diminishes. “I see. Have you eaten yet?”

“Worry about yourself more, idiot.”

He felt loved.

---

The demon king, in twilight’s glow, Found solace in the priestess he’d come to know.

Not a week later, the renowned shaman who could curse anybody from a distance was proclaimed dead. Shards of frozen water bordered her home that had exploded into splinters. Sorcerers investigating under the command of the shogun found her body sliced to pieces, her blood painting the walls.

For her, his heart would fiercely burn, And vengeance swift would soon return.

Soon enough, rumors emerged from town to town. Iterating the tale told by one folk to the next, each one a lot more diverted from the truth than before. Still, it would not matter. For the chants written down in history would prove every other legend wrong—yet this one will always remain true, even as the world is raised to ruin.

To those who dare to bring her pain, His wrath unleashed will reign like rain.

---

"Who ever knew I'd be so famous that others would want to curse me?" (Y/n) walked joyously, swinging her arms back and forth divergent to the falls of her steps.

Sukuna trod alongside her, as he told the priestess the truth, finding no need to withhold it from her. If his servant held life second to Sukuna, then the sorcerer would be no more.

"Yeah, waste of a perfectly good incantation if you asked me." The king shrugged nonchalantly, purposely saying the words that would add fuel to the fire flickering in her.

Sukuna could feel the sharp glares she was sending his way all while he pretended not to notice them, suppressing the laugh that threatened to burst from his throat.

The priestess huffed in annoyance, turning her head away from him and walking at a much faster pace, leaving him behind.

“Oi! I was just joking!” He yelled in protest, hurrying his strides to catch up with her who was now turning the next corner of the street.

Sukuna stopped moments before he could collide with her back.

People walked past them in every direction while they stayed stagnant in the midst of it all, like an iceberg adrift in the vast ocean.

"So, how do you intend on paying the healer?" The priestess turned to face him, inclining her head to meet his stare.

Her question took him by surprise. They had to pay? For what? That quack doctor didn’t do shi—

"Uh... I wrote my name; they can ask for something in return when they want to." Sukuna looked away, scratching the back of his head. Like hell he’d do something for a lowly human—

"You know how to write? That's so cool!" She looked to him in adoration, the same one she had always worn before that sorcerer took it away—and heavens was he elated to have the light of those eyes end its journey behind his own.

"What you don't?" Sukuna smirked, flicking her forehead.

"Nope! Not even my name!"

Sukuna was left staring at her, at a loss for words, like he had seemed to be for the past twilights. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, how this little human squeezed through the tight crevices in the walls he built so high—or perhaps it was him who tore them down.

"You wouldn't even know if you're a national criminal." He laughed, tucking his hands in his sleeves, and continued to walk.

"Right?” She grinned, skipping every now and then to match his lengthy strides, “I do know how to write Auflage."

Sukuna scoffed, slowing his pace so he could poke fun at her from a nearer distance. "That's useless."

"Correct again! Wow, you're really smart, Ryoumen!"

There it was again, that little stutter in his breath at the mention of his name. One of the many, he continues to remind.

Even with the chatter of the townspeople, the clatter of their sandals hitting the cobblestone path, the late afternoon breeze singing their melody, he feared that knocking of his heart would be too loud—that it would overpower all the resounding restrictions he so desperately tries to put on himself and he would end up giving in to all this… all this happiness.

"You're just an idiot..." He whispers halfheartedly.

"Hey! Teach me how to write your name." The priestess bounced on the balls of her feet as she looked to Sukuna with a heart full of hope and stubborn determination. 

"Shouldn't you be more interested in yours?" Sukuna raised a brow at her, pushing the priestess to move with the rest of the crowd towards the river.

"No. You probably know how to write that but it's not fair that I don't know how to write yours." She shook her head and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"What?"

They halted near the bank of the river. The setting sun sank behind the horizon, painting his face golden; striking the priestess with shadows.

Then she turned to face the rushing river, half her face dyed in aureate light, casting the illusion of eternity.

"How am I gonna find you if you go disappearing on me? I can't write. I can't read, and I can't draw."

Slowly, humans came occupying the fields of grass, scattering their laughter in the once silent atmosphere.

"At the very least, if I know how to write your name, I'll be able to look for you in the future... and find you again."

As the last rays of daylight faded into the earth, she looked to him for what should be no-less than second nature… so why? Why did his soul scream at him to go to her? To be near her no matter what life she lived? To be the one within arm’s reach… to be the one she looks for, the one she asks to see.

How ridiculous her words were. To him who ardently believed that he was born and reincarnated to be the object of everybody’s contempt, that he lived only to hurt other people.

Still… why does she look at him like those didn’t matter? As though they never held importance to begin with. She was the one being ridiculous! Not him!

“Hello? From the magnificent miko of the land to Ryoumen? Is anybody home?” The priestess waved a hand over his face, the one who stared at her unblinkingly.

But Sukuna realizes then that he too was accountable for some of the blame.

“Sit down and pay close attention.” He grabbed a small branch and sat on a log away from the rest of the crowd.

Because even as he harbors these doubts, he still finds himself looking for her. Everywhere. In everything. In everyone.

Through fire and flame, where darkness holds its sway, The demon king feels something start to sway.

When Sukuna turned to see if the priestess obeyed his command, his soul nearly descended to the depths of hell as he sees her sitting so painfully close to him, staring at the undisturbed earth with such fervor.

As moonlight dances on her gentle grace, A flicker warms his cold and distant face.

The king began drawing lines on the dirt, glancing at her from the corner of his eye to see if he still had her attention. He did.

兩面

“How do you read that?” She gazed at him in wonder as she pointed to the characters on the ground, written so neatly it would have passed as a calligrapher’s penmanship (the priestess has never seen a calligrapher’s penmanship. This is the first handwriting she has witnessed).

“Ryoumen, you idiot. Now you try.” Sukuna flicked her forehead and handed her the stick.

In her presence he sheds his ancient rage, And finds his soul anew free from its wretched cage.

As the priestess glanced back and forth from Sukuna’s writing and to her own, the king finds himself sinking more and more into the warmth she gave. When he looked at her, he would often think to himself, how lucky am I to have been right here where you existed. Even now as he drowns his crimson irises in her image, in this time, in this life… he finds himself wishing for this moment to last just a little bit longer.

“There. All done.”

Sukuna peeked an eye open. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to see from someone who hadn’t written anything in her whole life. But it certainly wasn’t this.

“What’s with the scrambled sticks? These look like summoning runes!”

The priestess inhaled a breath of offence, holding a hand over her heart. “I haven’t written anything in my entire life! You’re supposed to be encouraging me to do better.”

He desperately tried to hold back the harsh criticisms flooding his tongue as he grabbed the twig from her hand and erased the characters they’d both written.

“I’d be lying to your face if I told you that you did a good job.” Sukuna gave the stick back to her, looking at the priestess with a deadpanned expression.

“You’re supposed to follow certain strokes not write whatever you want wherever you want.”

He moved closer to the priestess, holding the hand she used to write and guiding it to draw on the ground.

The priestess held her breath for all the seconds she felt him so close to her. She could have sworn her vision dotted from the lack of oxygen flowing in her lungs, but she feared her heart would crawl out of her mouth if she so much as let out a sound.

His hand felt cold over hers, like he was plunged in eternal frost before coming to wake in the vernal freshness of the sun.

Yet to the priestess, he was like a cool breeze during the summer heat, or the anchor in a raging storm, the moonlight in the illusions of midnight.

He felt like home.

And she swore she could have stayed like that for all the eternities to come, caged in his hold, safe from the cruelty of the world, seen amidst ten thousand people.

If only her lungs didn’t burn from the breaths she didn’t want to take.

“On—On second thought…” The priestess broke free from his half-embrace, standing up and fisting the fabric of her clothes, “you—how… how about you find me instead!”

Sukuna’s eyes widened at her yell, he thought for a second that the miko was giving up, that is until he saw the scarlet coloring her cheeks all the way to the peaks of her ears. 

“You’re smart, and you know how to read and to write. So—uhm, I’ll just wait for—for you to come and get me… if I get taken away.”

“Okay.”

“It’s more of a situational condition anyway, it’s not like I’ll be—wait, what did you say?” The priestess ceased her pacing and faced the man still sitting on the log, watching her with radiant glow.

“I said okay. I’ll find you in the future.”

She broke out in a face-breaking smile and sprinted to where he sat, beaming down at him with all the happiness the world could offer, “Really?” She spoke in a joyous, hopeful tune.

Before Sukuna could berate her for asking too many questions, something shone from the corner of his eyes.

The king watched as the villagers, one by one, then all together, lit up the objects they held, letting them float into the midnight ether. The lights flew into the sky, disappearing as though they’d become one with the stars.

He once deemed the festivities foolish, looking at them from far away, alone in the courtyard of his temple. Humans throwing their trash into the sky or letting them sink into the rivers. What was the use of such fleeting moments, he would think. For what good is there to laugh and cry knowing it will come to an end sooner or later?

But the humans remained happy either way, even if they knew their lives were as fickle as the lights they set off into the night.

Sukuna looked away, not liking the feeling of something brewing in his chest. He turned to tell the miko that they were leaving, away from all this frolicking, only to find her holding one of those lights.

Ah, why am I like this?

“Hey, c’mon hurry. The light’s gonna burn out.” With haste, she grabbed hold of his hand, placing it parallel to hers on the lantern.

For so long… it was all so strange to him. How do humans take it? All these happy memories will crush them one day, he knows it. What greater heartbreak is there than realizing that these will pass… just as everything else does.

That you will pass… just like all you mortals do. Scattering the lands with all your laughter that it echoes even after you’ve gone. Long after your death, for many centuries to dawn.

“Now make a wish. If the light reaches the heavens, then your wish will come true. Ready?” The priestess closed her eyes, squeezing his hand with ardor.

The light of the lantern painted her face in a warm glow, setting alight the fervency of her desire.

But Sukuna only had one wish.

“Now.” He felt her hand push his to raise the light afloat. “Look at it go! Our wishes are definitely going to come true.”

She watched the lantern ascend to the heavens and Sukuna watched her. For what good was the promise of paradise if heaven was right there.

---

Beneath daylight, the demon found, His heart for her was tightly bound.

As the days of their journey neared its close, the very last meadow they stepped foot into was half a wasteland.

"Hey, Ryoumen..." The priestess sat under the shade of a tree that had miraculously survived, watching as the clouds drifted by in shapes and sizes blotting the earth with shadows painted in their likeness.

Sukuna sat a little ways off, in the middle of a small patch of flowers. He looked out of place, or so he had believed. To be embraced by life when he only brought death.

"What is it?" he asks, not tearing his attention from what he was doing.

The priestess, innocent and kind, Knew not the feelings within his mind.

"A shop owner gave me this," She pulled out a large bow and a case of arrows, one she had forgotten about until she was so painfully reminded of their existence (tripping over it as she was packing her things), "he told me that I was somewhat similar to a person nearby at that time..."

Sukuna faltered in his activity, thinking back to that moment she spoke of. One that transpired nearly eleven—no, twelve full moons ago. Once, he would have thought of the time passed as nothing—if you’ve lived long enough, everything starts to blend together at some point. But all these days to him have felt like a lifetime, a lifetime that wasn’t nearly enough.

Similar to me, eh? Very wrong, filthy sorcerer. She's nothing like me.

The priestess threw the weapon at Sukuna, thinking that perhaps he had the answer. But the moment it made contact with his skin, a sharp hissing sound emanated from his skin.

Her eyes widened at the scene, standing up so fast and rushing to his side to cast the bow elsewhere.

"Hey—what... why is there... steam? What? Are you okay—"

Sukuna held up a hand and that stopped her from reaching out for him, "It's nothing."

Sukuna rose from his position and returned the weapon, feeling his hands burn from the contact.

“Hey! Wait just a moment, Ryoumen. You’re hurt, aren’t you?” The priestess tried to catch up to him when the sun had mysteriously gone out, and the scent of flowers invaded her nose.

"Let's go to the village. Might be the last time you'll see a human. You never know..." His voice echoed in the wind, coming from everywhere all at once until it faded to a distant buzz.

In silence deep, his truth concealed, For she knew not what love revealed.

Her fingers found solace in the circlet he draped over her eyes, a wreath of flowers.

When her vision narrowed to search for his presence, to call his name—ask what he means for every gentle touch, warm smiles, and kind undertakings—she found he was already up over the hill, standing there… waiting patiently for when she’d be ready to depart.

Perhaps then, it all became clear…

Under the azure canvas overhead, painted over with the silver water of light, surrounded by the passing zephyrs, she knew.

The hustle and bustle of commerce from the town strung from one corner to another. Streets were littered with people. Children ran around, keepers and vendors opened their businesses for travelers and residents alike. Banners that vary in size and color were hung all over the place. Laughter and chatter of everyday life danced in the happy and uplifting atmosphere.

It made the priestess smile; it was exactly what she missed most about her town.

"Get yer Ambrosia here! Buy one get one free!"

"Rat poison for sale! Up for free taste!"

"Expired milk! Fit for your cheating husband! Get two for the price of one! Limited time only."

The demon king and the priestess walked through the lively streets. Her hand clutched firmly against the cloth of his light-colored kimono that he only got after the rest of his torn and beaten clothes crumbled and got taken away by the wind.

"Get your portrait drawn by the greatest artist around! 50% off on people with companions!"

The priestess dragged Sukuna to where she heard the calls of the advertiser. His hand intertwined firmly with hers as she dodged and avoided people as much as she could.

"Hi there, onee-chan! Here to get drawn?"

She nodded her head, and the little boy beckoned her to follow him. The priestess tugged at the unwilling hand of Sukuna who stood firmly and unmoving outside the venue. 

"C'mon Ryoumen! It's to commemorate the finish of the training thing! This may be the last thing we'll have to remember each other... never know..." She tried to use his own words to convince him, continuously pulling at his arm trying to get him to agree.

Still, he refused.

The priestess sighed, ultimately deciding that it was her pride or this absolute need for remembrance, and she wasn’t going to leave with either so she pulled out the greatest weapons any girl could have... the look.

"Pwease~"

The pink-haired man showed a look of disgust and shivered from the image engraving itself into his head and slammed a hand to cover her horrifying face. 

"Alright, I’m going. Just—just stop it with that face."

"YES!" She cheered and circled around him—the space she occupied for herself.

Sukuna silently watched her, a faint smile gracing his usually annoyed face.

What a weirdo...

"Onee-chan, Onii-san, this way please..."

---

"It looks so cool!" The priestess gushed, ogling at the portrait that took almost 3 hours to make.

"It's not half bad. I guess..." Even Sukuna couldn’t put it in himself to deny.

She turned to the little artist, "Do you have a quill I can use?"

The little boy nodded and handed her a spare.

“What for? You don’t know how to write.” Sukuna smirks, looking over her shoulder to see what she was up to.

“Currently not entertaining the jeers of bashers.” She swatted him away and continued to write albeit in slow, messy strokes.

'Ryōmen & (Y/n)' Auflage, 850

Sukuna took notice of the writings she engraved at the bottom of the paper. Had she been writing? All those times she had her back to me… she was practicing?

"Why Auflage?" He found himself asking. Sukuna knew it was one of the three things she knew how to write: her hometown, her name (which he demonstrated after many, many pleas and cries from the priestess), then Sukuna’s name. But she could have easily asked him to write it for her. The priestess would have only needed to say, and he would have made it so.

She looked up at him and flashed him a beaming smile, "Because that's where we first met, silly."

When did I start seeing you like this?

The gentle breeze of the early afternoon danced around her body, rays of the bright sun highlighting the curves and bumps on her face.

How can you still look at me like that? After knowing me… wasting so much time… on me—

"I will treasure this for years to come! Maybe when we meet again, I can laugh about how you showed up in front of me half-naked!" She lightly chuckled at her suggestion. “The great Ryoumen!”

When did I start thinking that my name had a ring to it whenever you would say it?

"Thank you." The priestess handed the quill back to the boy and continued to wander around the town with her companion.

She held the portrait up and inspected it for the hundredth time that day, "Wow! We look like a couple here."

That I'd do anything for you over and over again if you'd ask me to—if I knew it will make you smile.

Sukuna stole a glance at the drawing with mock disgust, and an evident flush of red dusting his inked face, "A couple of jackasses."

"HEY!"

---

What Sukuna said had rang true. No, not the 'couple of jackasses'. The part where he said that that'll be her last human contact for a while.

It had been three full moons since that last village, twelve since she had set foot in her home. Still, the seconds ticked by as though they were but a grain of sand in the endless desert.

Sukuna and the priestess traveled for a long time, passing by a long, deep ravine, walking through dark, creepy forests, and eerie swamps. As they crossed the distance to his castle, the more he began to feel the heaviness in his chest grow.

The curses lingering in the shadows began to act more unpredictable, fearing nothing, believing themselves to be the strongest.

“What is going on in that head of yours…”

Sukuna diverted his attention from the darkened borders of the woods and towards the priestess who had her hands supporting her head as her elbows rested on her knees.

“You always look so out of it ever since we came here.” She pointed out, tilting her head in question. “If you’re scared, we can just go back—”

“Whoever said I was afraid?”

“You don’t have to say it when it’s written all over your face.”

Sukuna scoffed. Why would he need to be afraid of himself? He could care less. At least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

Still, why didn’t it cease this hurricane of sadness wreaking havoc in his soul?

Crackles of the fire permeated the space between them. There existed no cicadas’ orchestra, no rustles of the foliage, the king even doubted if the zephyrs dared to venture into his domain.

It was just him in a place far too big for a single soul to inhabit.

“Do you think the king ever feels lonely?” The priestess stood and walked near him, not knowing that the person in her question was already at the receiving end of her words.

“So vast a kingdom for there to be no citizen.” She sat next to him, keeping her eyes on the dancing flames.

Sukuna didn’t know what to say. He was the king, renowned in all the lands. Demon king. King of curses. Calamity. He has had so many titles for the past century, be it as a curse or as a human. But he never chose to be labeled by any of those.

He had a name once, just like the rest of them. He once turned to see who uttered it so long ago, he would know he was needed at the mention of it, and he would be reminded of his own self—breathing, living—just like the rest of them.

“Maybe that’s just his fate. To be the abomination in everybody’s eyes.”

But now, his name was buried under the titles he was bestowed, woven in tales of terror, burned in history as the vilest demon to have ever been born. Perhaps he was far too gone in the oceans of his sin to be called by his name.

“No one is born to be hated, Ryoumen.” The priestess nudged his shoulder with her own, “I would know, the head priestess in the shrine I used to work at told me. And even if she didn’t, I’d still think so.” She smiled, seemingly proud of her belief.

“The same way no one is born to be revered by the heavens, no one is born to be the basin of everybody’s anger.” The priestess tossed a few sticks into the fire, watching as it burst forth to blaze once more. “Because that’s just cruel, isn’t it?”

“How do you bring yourself to love a world that did nothing but reject you?”

Sukuna stared at her in wonder. For so long, he lived his days believing that there was nothing in this world for him to have, nothing for him to hold dear, nothing to be blessed with. So, he took what he wanted… even if it already belonged to someone else. It wasn’t fair. Why does everyone have something while I’m here with nothing? Yet here she was, wholeheartedly believing otherwise. As the light of the fire painted her face golden, Sukuna found himself thinking, how could anyone… be as marvelous as her?

“That’s why I’m glad… that I met you. It really feels like a stroke of luck! After years and years of nothingness, nothing but this spiralling darkness, all of a sudden—there was you. I didn’t really know why I was born all those moons ago, but now the answer just seems so simple. Maybe, just maybe… I was born so I could meet you.”

He believes it then, if the world had so selfishly kept it all from him, letting him believe that it didn’t need him… Sukuna will just have to keep living for someone who does.

---

Her words shone like daylight in this never-ending darkness. At the falls of twilight, in the wake of dawn, mists of the afternoon, shadows of midnight, there existed not a single second where her warmth had ceased to be near him.

Sukuna recalls the tender falls of his name from her lips, and all her kind affection. All that happiness, all those adventures, and everything in between. He treasured them all, carving them deep in the shrines of his soul, promising himself never to forsake them, resent them, or throw them away. Even if the sorcerers of the future were to damn him into eternal suffering, he would never forget.

I would rather be pained by the reminder of you, in every corner and every turn, than to live a life without a single memory of you.

Because he knew that after this, there was no going back. There would be no tomorrow. No lanterns to keep the roads alight. No fires to keep them warm. No nagging miko to keep him company.

It would just be him all over again. A single soul in a world that was far too big.

"His place certainly fits the description." The priestess looked up from the sketch and towards the looming temple in front of her.

Towering pagoda-like spires, carved with serpents and grotesque faces, reached for the skies. Beams of darkened wood stood at held the obsidian tiles covering the expanse of the roof. Screen windows were sealed shut, leaving no room for glances as to what secrets it held inside all that ancient malevolence.

There existed no clear route to the palace-like structure, for it looked to be as if there was no need for one. Not a single soul had ventured here in one piece, nor had anyone been fortunate enough to leave with it intact. The grounds were overgrown with thorny brambles, shadowed by the foliage that left no room for the gale to weave through.

An eerie, dim sunray streams through the dense canopy, painting the cracked stone pathways with unsettling patterns.

The priestess looked to be hesitant to go through the thresholds of his home, although Sukuna guesses her reasons were far too different from his. She had probably feared for her life, much like many mortals do… yet he feared that beyond this, nothing would exist. Just like how it had been before he had come across her being.

“Ryoumen I—”

“Move forward, miko. The king is ahead.”

Sukuna led her through the winding corridors of the temple, finding every torch ignited to a fault, leaving no room for shadows to linger. Crimson and obsidian tapestries depicting the waking nightmare of mortals hung from the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of incense blended with something acrid.

"Who knew he was such a collector huh?" The priestess jested, trying her best to give him one of her grins—yet she, herself, found it difficult to perform such a gesture when she was walking under the ceiling of the place serving as the foreboding citadel of demonic power, within the realm where the demon king reigns supreme.

“Listen, Ryōmen—" she faced him and looked at his weary eyes, "maybe we should leave.”

She gave him a halfhearted smile as silver began to brim the horizons of her lashes. “We can just tell everyone that they were mistaken, that the king doesn’t exist. Or that we killed him—anything!” The priestess drew closer to where he stood, clutching the fabric of his kimono, scared of letting go.

“I thought this was your dream?”

"Please…" her words were silenced by the sound of doors sliding open, crashing against the walls with a resounding bang.

No… it’s not. It hasn’t been for a long time now.

The priestess felt her chest rise and fall as her breath slowly dwindled. With a guilt-ridden heart, her gaze trailed upwards, like those lanterns from all those moons before. She found herself desperate to trace the contours of his inked face, memorize the shade of crimson dyeing his eyes, see the hints of warmth decorating the plains of his cheeks. The priestess treasured them all knowing that after today… she will never get to see them again.

You were my new dream.

A searing pain flowered from the beds of her stomach, casting her vision to tunnel to the image of him—so profound, so out of reach… so pained.

“Su…kuna… ah, I finally… got to call… you that…”

In his bewilderment, ropes of blinding white erupted from the shadows of the corridor, binding the king in a heavy hold.

Sukuna clenched his fist in protest, desperate to break away—to catch her before she fell in a crumpled heap on the floor. Only to falter when it dawns on him that this was her scheme all along.

For so long, people called my name in fear, resentment, like I was the very scum that walked the earth.

Sorcerers emerged from the corners, flooding the halls in numbers. Dressed in white kosodes and black hakamas.

“Well done, girl.”

A man rounded the corner, his hair shaded in the likeness of snow, eyes refracting the color of the sky. Sukuna recalls those features, having been inherited from the clan they labeled Gojo.

Sukuna looked to where the miko lay, a hand clawing the floors to reach where he stood, bound beyond escape, while the other was dyed red from holding her wound. A very prominent arrow nock blooming past that kosode she so devotedly wore.

Beneath the stars, the demon grieved, For love was true, yet hearts deceived.

The stranger knelt to where the priestess was, face down and holding tightly onto her wound as her blood flowed out of her body like waterfalls.

The man fisted the threads on her head and held it up, forcing her to witness the fruit of her crafted scheme.

The priestess, pure, in love so deep, Had no intent for harm to reap.

Yet to Sukuna, it remained clear as daylight, that she wanted no part in this. Even as her life is held at the palm of another, ready to be taken away, she remained looking at him… like she had always done.

“Your precious demon king, about to be sealed away.” Seizou shook her head back and forth while the priestess could do nothing but clench her eyes and endure the pain.

“Finally, after all these years.” he dropped her to the floor, choosing to draw closer to where Sukuna was bound, “Your reign will finally come to an end—”

Seizou’s words were swallowed by the white-hot pain searing through his chest, blood pooling in the back of his throat.

“Too bad yours will, too.” The priestess twisted the knife, imbued with a thousand curses, deeper into the heart of the man, hilt painted crimson—the color of her life… the color she had come to love so ardently.

“SEAL HIM AWAY!”

But darkened plots from hidden hands, Sealed his fate with cruel commands.

“It’s over—demon!”

The binds burned brighter, forcing him to revert to the form he was known for. One whose face was so deformed that humans were quick to conclude that he had two, his four arms tearing through the fabric of his kimono—the same one he recalls that she had held on so fervently.

Ah, the miko…

Everything slowed down. Her fingers freed the knife from her bloodied grip, staggering in her place and Sukuna closed his eyes.

As cowardly as it was, he didn’t want to see her turn away in resentment. He didn’t want to see the light, he had once been the center of its orbit, dim to leave him in the darkness. Sukuna, above all else, didn’t want his last memory of her to be one where she looked at him like he was anything but himself.

Humans prayed with their lives clutched so tightly, afraid that I'd be the thief that would take it away. Did they really deem themselves so precious that I'd steal their breath? It's kind of arrogant, really. The ones who declared themselves to be the humblest in the lands had held their souls higher than the heavens.

He was ashamed. Over and over and over again, he believed himself to be foolish—to have fallen so low as to crave the affection of a human. The priestess who was so painfully mortal.

But it remained. Every fervent thought. All the waking daydreams. Glimpses of heaven in you.

When did I get strung in such sappy things?

When did I...

Sukuna, feeling his fingers be burned from his limbs finally raised the curtains of his irises.

The hallways were free from noise, not a single breath in place.

“…hey.”

Aside from the priestess who lay beside his feet, tugging weakly on the seams of his clothes.

"Pretty... aren't I?" She laughs weakly. 

"More like strange..." Sukuna could have sworn he heard those words before.

"And pretty." 

"Sure, and pretty."

“I’ll… write your name. I promise… and they… won’t look like… summoning runes.” She coughed, casting away the substance that gave her life, no matter how painfully short it was.

How do mortals bear such anguish, knowing all that they loved would meet this end?

Sukuna spoke her name, one tethered with such earnest longing—a desperate plea for her to keep her life—to keep living, far longer than any other human. To outlive these sorcerers who gave him such a fate, even if it was just for a second longer.

“You… finally… called me… by my name.” The priestess smiled, letting her hand fall to the ground.

As the binds grew brighter, encasing everything in white, Sukuna caught the sight of a lone tear falling from the side of her eye, along with the words… “find me in the future.”

---

In realms where twilight meets the darkened sea, A priestess loved the demon king, though doomed to be.

Their passion burned where stars and shadows blend, Yet destiny decreed their hearts would never mend.

She fell to darkness, he was bound in chains so tight, Their love a fleeting spark in endless night.

[sturnioloblogs]

Skincare

Y/n x Matt

Summary: you and Matt are hanging out and you convince him to let you do his skincare hehe.

Warnings: nothing I don’t think! Just cute fluff❣️

A/n: hiii I hope you like thins one!! This is my first time ever writing fluff so bear with me ���😭I also don’t know if these are the right steps for skin care… keep giving me ideas!!

𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹

“Matt stay still!” I giggled to my boyfriend “it’s cold I can’t help it!” He replied.

It took my ages for me to convince him to let me to do his skin care, but today he finally gave in.

I was applying the glow recipe dewdrops to his freshly washed skin. Gently rubbing it into his forehead, cheeks and chin.

“Baby it smells like trees..” he said disgusted “you think?!” “Yes it smells horrible!” he chuckled.

“We’ll get used to it because I wanna do this more often” I said, with a sneaky smile. Before he could respond, I cut him off by saying “if I do this to you every day, your skin will look amazing!”

“We are definitely not doing this every day” he said, closing his eyes and sighing.

“Now we need some face cream” I said, grabbing the jar of lotion off of my shelf “i don’t think this one smells bad…” I say handing it to Matt “it kinda just smells like baby power” he said, handing the jar back to me.

I unscrewed the lid and dipped my finger into the jar, rubbing it into my hands to warm it up a little bit this time.

“Okay so now just going to make sure your skin is moisturized” I said, concentrating.

Making sure to rub it all of his face and down his neck.

“Annnndddd your done!” I said, with a big smile “ooo my skin feels soooo nice and soft, thank you baby” Matt said, while looking at himself in the mirror.

𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹

A/n: hello pookies let me know how I did! Keep requesting. This was kind of short but its okayyyy