#fic: wisteria & moonlight

[ravneski]

Desecration

Kokushibo x Fem!Reader

They take what they can't have and bathe in the sacrilege.

this has also been uploaded to ao3 (kudos and comments there would be appreciated <3) link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46981597

warnings: smut, cunnilingus, fingering, menstrual sex, dubcon nearing the second half of the fic, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, religious imagery, sexual violence, strangling/choking, fisting

word count: 5.4k

Fate was a cruel thing.

Dragging her eyes from the floor, she cursed herself for not staying alert, for not paying attention to which room she had mindlessly entered. The Upper Moon One’s aura pervaded, thick as well-trained metal. She stared and he stared back, six eyes unreadable but nostrils flared, shark in water detecting what slicked her fukusa.

“One day.”

Since she had started bleeding. She tensed. “What of it?”

“It will… be painful.” Kokushibo’s golden gaze bored into her.

“There are worse pains,” she dismissed, face blank. She made to turn.

“Are you going to Doma?”

She graced him a near unnoticeable nod.

“Will you… spread your legs for him?”

Centimetres away from him in a flash too quick to be perceived, her veins frosted. “Doma tells me you opened your own for Daki.”

Their gazes swept one another, rising and falling as the moon did, but nothing as renewing as moonlight enveloped either. “Mourning her?” she drawled.

“I utilised her for… what her job dictated she do…”

Her upper lip curled in disdain.

“And you,” Kokushibo continued, knuckles white from the clasp on his sword’s tsuka, “are no different… from me. Go… to your whore.”

She laughed at that, but the mirth was dry sand, rigid as though hardened by unremitting waves. “Doma isn’t my whore.”

“Then what… is he? Your lover?” he replied, derisiveness worn like armour.

“You tell me,” she said after a moment, gathering herself. “You know his body as well as I, do you not, fornicator?”

A vein throbbed at the side of his neck. “You never hesitated… to run to me when you were bleeding… yet now you spare… time for aimless ambling…”

“Say what you mean.”

Even in the gentle light of the Infinity Castle, Kokushibo was but a shadow. The dark side of the sun, she thought. He knew only his shadows, and she found herself drawn to be engulfed by the same fate. His expression held solemnity it was never without, but by now she saw the veneer. As he inched closer, the fractures in his mask seemed ardent.

“Can Doma not taste… your flow?” he asked, interest sincere. “The one that follows the moon’s cycle… is it beyond his reach?”

“He likens it to wisteria,” she admitted, reluctant as she was, “and talks of the mere touch burning him.”

“One man’s bane… is another man’s ichor.” The suggestion in his voice rang sharper than any demon slayer’s blade. She made up for his mishap, his nerve to close their distance and his barely veiled want, by widening the space between them again.

“It’ll be such ichor to him if I allow him to draw blood from my womb,” she pointed out.

“Will you?”

“Will our lord let me?”

“Mutinous thing,” sneered Kokushibo. “When have you cared… for our lord’s boundaries and laws?”

“No more than you.”

His hand, wrapped around his sword’s tsuka, twitched. “I remain constant.”

“Then leave.”

After a second of hesitation, one he tried with fervour to conceal but seeped through to his countenance, the constriction of his pupils and the scorch in his irises, Kokushibo stayed where he was. “You bleed heavier than… last time,” he noted. 

“Do you observe through your Transparent World every time I shed?”

He shook his head. “You misunderstand… I smell it. It permeates.”

And he was the only one who could detect her moonblood. Besides herself, and their master, but Kibutsuji Muzan was swamped in more crimson than she could ever spill.

She pivoted, but Kokushibo grabbed her wrist, iron and impetuous. “He’s angry,” she said as her excuse to leave, searching the old samurai’s face. “The boy who bears your brother’s mark and wears your brother’s earrings is making mincemeat of the lesser Moons.”

The mention of his twin left him cold. “That person will… not miss you,” he wagered. “You have time spare.”

He melded, still, to her wrist, unyielding; the shock of his skin pressing hers reignited what she had long assumed abandoned, a stinging ache that rippled between them as waves in storms devastated ships, naked and exposed. Ghosting the pallid paper of her flesh, his nails were a parody of humanity, short and plates plain. Kokushibo coveted what he could not have. For one to receive, one had to give. The human body had to be sacrificed to exceed its feeble limits, its brittle mortality. His façade was flimsy, and with the right amount of force it would shatter and out would come the demon that he had sold his soul to become.

His gaze drifted to her abdomen, which she had clutched in fruitless instinct, before once more locking with her. “Let me,” he said.

It took little time to think over her answer, as much as the sour wrath in her stirred. She acquiesced, and his hands wandered beneath the silk of her clothes.

She was undignified in this bestial position, but Kokushibo lacked the temerity to penetrate her through his cock. She could not bear to meet his face; ignoble though the stance of coitus more ferarum was, it provided sanctity, a way to avoid the intense blaze of those six unblinking eyes. Wooden floor scraped and pricked at her elbows as she used them to support herself. She focused on the crevices of the floorboards, the cracks resembling abysses with their infinite black hollows, wondering how much hot red had rolled into them and festered over the centuries.

Her robes were hoisted up, impudently close to the tender swell of her breasts but secure enough to not reveal them, welcoming him, exposing more than flesh when her heart jumped from the warmth of his invasively close breath. Kokushibo explored her, parting her like petals; when her folds had become so wet she didn’t know, nor wanted to, but his fingers trailed them, tentative as though she were made of glass and he feared breaking her. Sticky with her flow, his digits climbed up to the flushed bud and grazed it with their course tips. Betraying her, her hips gave an involuntary buck.

This was decadence, she mused. For the both of them. They would consume the other in every way but literal, the same way he had. Muzan was a blight impossible to efface and stained them even now.

His tongue skimmed the plush of her inner thighs, scraping at the dark cardinal smearing them. The organ roused an acute jolt from deep inside her as it slid in, blood and arousal mixing and gliding to form an easy lubricant. The electric reaction of her body wasn’t quite arisen from satisfaction, but neither was it spawned from pain; it curled and coiled as an endless serpent, a visceral sensation of a latent guilt and a repressed thrill.

Heat unfurled within her, a spark of life, but it wasn’t enough. Grinding her teeth together, she turned herself around, lying on her back. Their gazes tangled, a flash of resentment shared between them; overwhelming the cramps of her womb convulsed something keener, a wretched desire too close to impalement. She raised her thighs for him anyway, as easily as the gates of hell would open for them both, and let the mongrel feast.

The flat of his tongue pressed against the nub at the top of her sex. Long fingers, svelte and elegant enough that they seemed unfitting for a sword-wielder, moved inside her in a focused rhythm, the squelch of sloughed tissue and blood resonating as her body relaxed, sucking him in deeper. Kokushibo’s tongue carded the lips of her quim, dragging down to near his fingers then slithering back to her clitoris, which rose like the opening flowers under sunlight’s grace. Her hips played and rutted to the tempo he dipped in and out of her with, stomach crawling as much as it flipped as she thought of how he had arrogated her with such facileness. Raking the tatami, she searched for a modicum of anchorage over herself, some dose of stability.

She was pitiful, but so was he, and equally deviant. They were deformed, her kind. Demons were death, but they dreaded finality so. She was no exception. Was that widespread fear, lurking in the caliginous heart of every demon, an innate one? Did each of them know there was no salvation in death for their forsaken souls, but only the expecting flames, searing and everlasting?

Once, she had encountered a god, beautiful and bright and unequalled, and underneath layers of false flesh the scars from the conflict, eternal in their retribution, still burned like the sun. If the fires of hell were real, she had felt their touch already, and her cells had never forgotten it.

They were monsters unspeakably damned. Hideous and acrimonious, most couldn’t give reason for why they continued to live other than base instinct, that primal hunger that gnawed and gnawed, impossible to sate. They were greedy to their finest fibre. It was why they were territorial beasts. Sometimes they mated, the odd few, those who dared, foolish and tainted, but it never lasted. Eventually they cannibalised each other, skewing bones and mangling flesh until there was nothing left. The hunger grew too great, too indomitable. Demons could not kill demons through any other means. She summoned the guts to look down at the one on his knees, submerged betwixt her thighs, lapping at nutrition, lifeblood, that which symbolised renewal and viability, and thought there was something poetic about fucking functioning as death.

“He’ll never find the amaryllis,” for those six eyes saw so much, what others could not; she waited to see who those eyes belonged to, the samurai or his lord. “He—” then she stumbled, his two fingers pressed against a hard edge inside her. Drowned into silence by the waves of venereal indulgence.  

“A woman’s hatred… is a sort of devotion,” mused Kokushibo from between her legs.

She lowered her gaze to him, gripping his dark mane to lift his head away from the hot throb of her cunt, though his fingers stayed encased. Pliable, he made a pretty picture painted in her. “Devoted to you?” she ridiculed.

“To him.” His tone was dull.

“I would rather kneel to Ubuyashiki’s Pillars,” she growled. “Your nonsense is bovine. Hold your tongue.”

“Many of our kind would sacrifice themselves to… see our lord live, but you would… throw away your life to see him die.” When Kokushibo tilted his head, the thick, ropelike tendrils of his hair swayed, midnight black percolating into glossy crimson. Strands stuck to the viscous gore around his mouth and he pulled them back. “Do you not… think that is a form of devotion?”

Her jaw clenched in indignant ire.

“Your enmity for him will never… be enough for him to kill you.”

“Does this come from one traitor to another?” The gumption of him to look inquisitive, as though he understood nothing, persuaded her to continue, treading on dangerous grounds. “He was your enemy. And I know you became a slayer to imitate your brother, not out of integrity or duty, but did you never once feel the slightest antagonism towards that person? How can you serve a remorseless man who has slaughtered and devoured thousands after once claiming you would put an end to him?”

“Do you revile him for… his carnage?”

Kokushibo was a mess of slick red, a deceitful embodiment of the rivers of Sanzu. Besmirched by her, flaunting thick fluids and stringy sombre clumps, with the gleam of something darkly holy when her blood caught in the fortress’ ochre illumination, but his features were peeled back into a snarl, teeth whetted and splenetic. Claret dressed between them dribbled past his mouth and down the strong, arrogant angle of his jaw; he was too monstrous to be divine, the beast vespers was sung to ward against than to revere, closer to a wolf than a deity as half a dozen eyes narrowed in synchrony and she recalled the time when he had been her sword, and wondered if this blood was of a wound from where he had turned his weapon on her.

“It’s pointless to wage war against a calamity,” she conceded, then groaned as he stroked that spongy bump at the top of her wall in repeated, lazy beckons, the flick of his wrist and the hook of his fingers.

Grotesquely prurient, ichor in the tiny cracks of them, his lips flitted upwards. “Have you… capitulated to him?”

The question gave her pause. Did she submit? After a millennium chained to her lord, she knew she would never be free of him, that his grasp was indefinite and all-consuming, larger than she could fathom. The gods, if any existed, had surely abandoned her long ago, deserted her to his clemency. But Kibutsuji Muzan was not merciful. Cruelty was in his very appellation and thrived in his every word and action; under his dominance, even those who escaped him through his noxious curse perished in agony, humiliating and revolting, when they uttered his name.

“No.” Her finger smudged scarlet as it traced his jaw.

Riled by her answer, Kokushibo tasted the watery flow that clung to his own fingers. “So learn your place,” he chastised. “Besides, where was your… guilt when you feasted on the defenceless child that… carried rare blood in its body, which now… rests in your gut?”

She smiled, despite his nerve. If she was wilful, she was not alone.

“You bleed a constant rage…”

Waning as the moon did, jilted by the inimitable sun, the smile faltered.

“It ebbs and flows… endlessly in your veins. Are you… not weary?”

His bones trembled as her nail lengthened and sliced into his gristle-coated skin, which split with the proficiency of soft carcass under the butcher’s carving knife. Close to his left bottom eye that it seemed like a rose tear trickling, his blood mixed with hers, finer and more lurid. She lifted a rouge fingertip to her lips and gave a languid lick. With the thorn and bristle of marechi, he withered her, but he lacked its lure. She swallowed him, “And you taste of the storm,” and his fury mingled with hers.

Eyes dark, Kokushibo pulled back. “Your contumacy will not… kill you,” he warned, as if he hoped repeating his admonition would cause her to change. Though he was not a man to indulge in delusions.

Her hand snared in his hair. “Then what do I do with this anger?”

“He is your master,” and she loathed the reprimand of his tone, smooth and ugly.

“He is yours,” she corrected, defiant against his caution anyway, claws pricking at his scalp as her lips thinned. “Is there fulfilment for you in being his lapdog?”

“Akaza retains… that responsibility,” he responded dryly.

“Then what are you?”

“His servant.” The kanji in his eyes, indurated sable that whispered of unfaltering centuries of loyalty, fealty cut regal by the blade, gleamed in the flickering flaxen light of the lanterns. So are you, it rebuked.

She shifted, threading his locks between her fingers. “His ever-faithful Upper Moon One. The strongest of his subordinates, staunchly dutiful to our master,” the word was spat, but eased as she continued with a malicious lilt, “spread for him. Taken by him. Ravaged by him.”

Kokushibo’s eyes flashed. “Why does he allow a woman like you… to roam untethered?”

Oozing furrows were dragged out across his roots. “When did questioning that person become your position?”

“I... am his associate.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when he’s wedging his cock down your throat?”

Rivulets of red ran from his scalp where his hair lay matted, his beautiful strands spoiled by the knots they were weaved into. She reached out, a hand around the thick trunk of his neck, and wrenched him forward until their noses were near touching. Releasing its tight grip around his oesophagus, her hand crawled upwards, spiderlike, stopping its pilgrimage at a flame which befouled his pale flesh. The mark stretched from the right of his sharp jaw, down the side of that strong neck to his collarbone, her fingers descending beneath the white rim of his relic kimono. She brought her lips to his ear, fingertips dancing over the crimson crest as she felt his pulse, faster than it ought to be for a being of tenacious stoicism. Against the shell of his ear, as all his eyes shifted right to follow her, she crooned in a whisper, “Samurai-sama.”

Kokushibo turned to stone, scarlet trickling down his chin and splashing her naked calves. Then he recoiled, swift as a blade sheathed, pulse spiking further and noble face hardening. Her gaze dropped to between his legs, to where the carnal ache of him protruded through the obsidian layers of his hakama.

“A woman like you ought to have her tongue cut,” he snapped.

“Well,” as she began to play with herself, Kokushibo traced every movement with captivated attentiveness, the arch of her back, the heave of her breasts under her robes—with his Transparent World her clothing could be no obstacle, but, whether principle or that men like him preferred the notion of undressing those they lay with, unwrapping their prize, he never indulged in perversion of that kind—the glisten of arousal garnishing her, the cruor dripping out to nestle in the creases of her lips, “I’m certainly glad your tongue is intact.”

While he regarded her with contempt under long lashes, the heat of his groin did not dissipate, a rapt need to slide between her. His breaths were heavy, chest she knew was bedecked with fierce muscle rising under the affluent fabric of his clothing. She paused. “Doma…” she started.

The moment that name was out of her mouth, her curiosity, storm’s gale she had never been able to overcome, was assuaged as his expression soured like fruit gone grossly rotten. Nobody in the Moons would pull out the false diviner from under the sun if he were to be struck by it.

Kokushibo rested his chin atop her imbrued mons. “What kind of slut lies with… a man and speaks of another… male she’s bedded?”

“Don’t insult me if you lack virility where your subordinate doesn’t,” she hummed. “At least I’ve never been reamed open by our master. How much honour did you have, mighty swordsman, when he sodomised you against your will?”

Tapered teeth glistened as Kokushibo glowered.

“You’ve always been undeserving of what I gave you.”

“Perhaps, but… our blood still call to each other.”

Such was devastation’s path. In fleeting wonder, she pondered how many had died to their hands over the distorting centuries. “Then you defile me. We are contaminated by the other. We are filth.”

Kokushibo healed, each gash she had carved into him during irascible delectation repaired by regenerating skin, his hair smoothing out the knots from heady red.

“Filth resonates with filth,” she told him as he pushed her to the floor and tore apart the rest of her kimono with insolent dare, for though her womb had quietened it was not yet silent. “Our blood endure a murky stream,” as he left cochineal fingerprints across her breasts, exposed to him as he lowered his lips to one and suckled with neither care nor violence, but with a rhythm that had her racked in a feverish shiver.

“In a just world, I’d see you… swell and distend with… the weight of my seed,” Kokushibo murmured against her teat, flicking his tongue against it and watching it erect. She blanched.

When his fingers entered her this time, they were not kind, but curled with purpose. They buried deep within her, pumped in and out in time to how he toyed with her nipples, one clasped between the serrated ends of his canine teeth and the other caressed by the hand not thrust within her, rolling it as he kneaded the fullness of her breast on his palm. Stuttered breaths seeped from her open mouth as she smarted from him, yearned in earthquake-like shaking, the coil in her stomach tightening as she clenched around him. 

“We bleed sacrilege,” she gasped, and soaked him in her exhilaration.

Sudden warmth ensconced her as he withdrew from her breast, a string of vermilion saliva snapping, and hid his face in the crook of her neck in a jarring imitation of affection, but it came not from the abrupt facet of affinity and nor was it born of the gratification that had just flown through her, a gentle current now turbulent with terror. Her gaze sidled over the steel thew of Kokushibo to the figure in the corner of the small room. His aura was as weak as it had been when their paths had first met, devoid of killing intent or bloodlust. A chilling resemblance to the Upper Moon demon marked him, but he was distinctly human—and distinctly dead, she reminded herself; yet here he was, defying the laws of the universe once again, and that scared her more than those sixty years after coming across him—with his hanafuda earrings and his soft maroon eyes, connecting with her own.

Cold terror dredged upwards like the pull of limbs from seaweed’s shackles, a fear that had never been conquered despite the centuries separating that night and now. Kokushibo took notice of her stiffened limbs, but in his fatalistic arrogance assumed it was his doing and continued rubbing at her clit in concentrated circles, still resting at her neck.

The Sun Breather stepped forward, face resolute in its emptiness. Vacant gaze, hollow expression. In life, he had never smiled, so Kokushibo had told her. She wondered if a person like Tsugikuni Yoriichi had ever had anything to smile about.

“Leave now,” she whispered to the apparition’s brother. “You’ve fulfilled your purpose.”

Kokushibo’s fangs left her neck and he frowned down at her, bemused. “Stay,” he said, moving his hands up to the slope of her shoulders as if in preparation to hold her in place.

“Stay?” Humouring the lingering note in his request.

“Beneath me.”

“Would you have me like that?”

His hakama rustled with his movement, the grind of his hips, the hardness of him taut and desperate to break free as it rubbed against swollen lips hidden under a thatch of raven hair. “How many men have… had that pleasure?”

“Not Doma,” she confessed.

“Not Doma,” he agreed in pride, then, embittered, “feminised by your wiles… Let me take you as… you should be taken. Under me.”

“Will he kill me then?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Yoriichi ventured another step, only a centimetre but enough to make her skin smoulder with memory. No, she would not die. Not to her master’s cells, not to the Sun Breather’s ruby sword. Across a thousand years, a single opportunity had come to her, a scalding escape, but Yoriichi had failed to take her head.

Years upon years later, here she lay, a man aneled in her blood looming over her with hungry eyes and hungrier cock while a universe beyond her comprehension played games with her.

Although the unworldly dimension of the Infinity Castle protected them from day’s influence, she and the other demon suddenly tensed in unison nonetheless. All Kibutsuji’s mutant creations felt the surface of dawn, a knell within the fibre of their bones to warn them of their only predator. It came with a hounding instinct to run, even if one was safe from the sun’s culling reach. To run and run until the blest recitals of matins was inundated with unfolding nightlight.

As daybreak erupted in another realm, Amaterasu’s sacred child faded, though not before his lips opened and moved with the motion of talk. Nothing audible departed from him. Her heart pounded against the confinement of her chest. Kokushibo finally realised she was glaring past him and turned to follow, greeted by a void corner. When he looked back at her, he discovered no one under him and muttered her name beneath a churlish breath.

“What reason have you to remain? Leave,” she repeated, by the fusuma. Sweat mellowed her body, throbbing from the aftermath of multiple climaxes, but a darker heat piqued within her as she scrutinised his ensanguined form, the wet mess of his face and hands. “You won’t send me to the gallows, Kokushibo, but something worse. Go.”

He towered over her in the blink of an eye. “I don’t… understand you. Women—”

“You don’t need to.”

Bold, he outstretched his hand and splayed his palm in the valley between her breasts, feeling the hammer of her heart. “Do not think me cunt-struck,” the fingers there decayed from paramour’s caress to the scuttling perfidy of insect legs, straining for prey as they made way down a breast and sullied it shimmering cardinal. He groped at her, the roughness men didn’t care enough to reign in. Their teeth nipped and nails scratched. Always squeezing and grabbing. “You will not treat me… like one of your whores, disregarded… once I’ve made you come,” and he placed emphasis on those final words, conceit blatant.

Kokushibo was an animal. The closest of the Moons to Kibutsuji in terms of power. It was only natural, in all the unnaturalness of demons, that he should be so mutant and repulsive, so it puzzled her that she found him beautiful. It, she supposed, was the beauty of a thing ethereal, or perhaps transient; a sacrificed animal, immolated by an unknown force. He was the bleeding lamb, the shot and limping cur, that which was so harrowing it could not be turned away from, the morbid fascination that stirred delight in the sickest minds.

Still, as the lamb bolted from the hand that reached to console it, and bodies withered and mortified from the undertaker’s embrace, his beauty spilled into evanescence. Butterfly wings broke when touched. He mouldered and came to fester a violent, disturbing darkness. While she dwelled on this, he made his move. Pushing her down, mounted above her with the full weight of his strapping form, shoving three virulent fingers inside her.

She pelted him with a livid glare. “I’ll defer when that man dies.” For she would not submit now. That went unspoken, but he heard it. Perhaps his samurai teachings to adhere to greater strength was the only reason his cock remained clothed. 

“Do you… crave death so badly?” Covering her body with his own, he slotted a fourth finger in. The delicate lining of her womanhood stung, his nails nicking as they danced inside her.

“Are you killing me?” she mused. Viridian claws slashed at his violet-ebony kimono, finding purchase in his broad shoulders. Mordancy dripped from her tone like how blood trickled down the hard ridges of his torso.

“Death will not give you peace.”

Perhaps it wouldn’t, but this life was far from pleasant. Though she shook her head at him, Kokushibo drove into her with vigour, the scourge of a whip. She shoved at his chest, his moonlight skin sickly pale, but he did not budge and, in some irreligious depth of her where she ached for this, the intemperate madness of sinners who trod the thin line of destruction and endurance, she was glad for it.

“Stop this,” but her words sounded empty to even herself. He didn’t, because he was a man who took what he wanted and obeyed the whims of only one other beside himself. Audacious, apathetic, awful, he inserted his thumb, then pushed the entirety of his fist inside her. A snarl tore from her throat, and his other hand came to close around that. He did not squeeze, but the mere presence of him around her neck was the potent pressure of a noose. Wet slaps rebounded in her ears as he twisted his fist, drawing his knuckles against her. She burned as if ablaze as she stretched to accommodate the violation.

Why was he here? What had he come for beside the sweet, metallic taste of cunt and the clench of red insides? It was something born of a selfish motivation, she figured that. No different or better than her. Though someone of his station should not act on self-serving wants.

Farther Kokushibo breached. To her unease, her body did little to prevent him. “I thought this was altruism?” she hissed.

His thumb pressed against her jugular, some vile punishment for opening her mouth. It marked her with a hue of cerise, an eager bruise blossoming under the skin. “This is not amity.” By the drag of a craven’s fingertips, veneration was rescinded. “It is… contrition. Yours.”

Bellicose blood smeared her, slewed down the inside of her thigh, not her moonblood, but thinner, of a greater, brighter constitution. Venous, drawn from a wounded and maimed creature, dismal and writhing like a worm on a hook. The hardness of her cervix turned friable. There was a knife—or a sword, she thought wryly, and wondered if he would fuck her with his disgusting katana if he could—in her cunt and it stabbed its way to where no foreign intrusion should have. She spasmed, wrenched out the arm of the hand clasping her smarting neck and suddenly they were both bathed in sticky red, tepid as it gushed from Kokushibo’s socket. It reeked. Not of them, but of him, the laden scent of Kibutsuji. Vessels for his violence, clawing at each other like rabid dogs, fuelled by the instinct to tarnish and impair, the need to rip apart with teeth and talons. They were nothing if not that man’s vestigial reflection; as Kokushibo hollowed her out and the sordid point of his nails pricked at the firm, barred organ of her cervix, it was not the samurai that penetrated, but his lord. A maggot burrowing away, carrying a corrosive disease. There was sin in their veins and it ate at them.  

“Warm my bed,” said Kokushibo, too frustrated to be a growl, too stark to be a plead. A demand, one which she spat at him for, all noble airs abandoned. He flinched as if her saliva cauterised. She hoped it did, hoped that his patience was a manacle and not frangible thread. She had seen what monstrosities cultivated within sullied wombs; the devils seized out of broken hellmouths in downpours of black ichor; the thousand deaths endured in pregnancy, in childbed, in motherhood. That was not a desirable end. It was not true death, but something beyond it, worse and unending, and men were baleful enough to inflict it on any wench they deemed deserving.

Depraved in the way ruby tainted rare moons, Kokushibo gouged her in repeated blows, battering the closed pale-pink neck of her uterus. She wept as his cursed touch shed more of her flesh than her own body could. A malevolent torrent of something she couldn’t put a name to raged within the leaking fissures of her. Here, raising a hand that trembled as it pressed his cool cheek, she was close enough to delve out his awful eyes, to slit his neck, to divaricate his limbs. Close enough to devour him.

But she wouldn’t. An insidious weakness.

When she yanked his savage fist out of her, she freed herself of her cage as well as gaoler. Torn from her insides, the pear shape of her womb, hot and rosy, and aperture of her cervix. Arteries and veins fell like tears, burst like shattered mosaic. She threw the poison in her system to the floor, where it soaked the wood with her diseased red, and relished the surprise on his face.

Kokushibo scanned the consecrated blood daubing him, then his gaze scraped her, fibrous sclera and aureate irises glowing, pupils blown. All they were was blood. They rotted with it, congealed and decayed until there was no trace of who they had been, only the stench of who they had slaughtered. They were their victims’ legacies, harbouring so many ghosts.

Crucifying agony dulled with each passing second. Already her body was repairing itself, working against her as it always had, cancer regenerating within her. Kokushibo rose and she stepped back, bare before him like an offering, though she was not sure what virgin oblation she could be when she had already been eaten; she could not consume him when he had consumed her, and from that she knew he was desecration. Vitiated in the spoils of him, she fled to ensconce herself within the umbrage of endless slanting corridors, praying they would guttle her too.

[linkspooky]

wip wednesday

Updated WIP for my Azulaang fic.

The worst part was that Aang had found her beautiful. Aang was suddenly forced to bear witness to a naked truth. Azula was a girl. Not only was she a girl, she was a beautiful girl.  Until now, he’d believed Azula hard and made of steel like a machine of war with a fire burning inside her. Now he saw her soft flesh.What he'd thought was a blazing inferno that burned everything that touched her was a gentle warmth that permeated her skin. The girl that had always been hiding underneath the fire nation black and red armor. A beautiful girl. 

It was tradition in this household to cleanse one’s body before being let into the spiritual archives. Aang respected tradition, even if spiritualism in the fire nation was different from the air nomads. 

(He also needed a bath, running away from conflict worked up quite a sweat). Step by step, he followed the little footpath of smooth, colorful pebbles under the luxuriant canopy of flowering wisteria blossoms until he found the entrance to the bath. Inside the changing room a low shelf carved from the bluestone had been placed to hold the bather’s clothes. In his eagerness to get into the water on a cold winter day (by fire nation standards) he failed to notice two other tubs packed with clothing sitting on the shelf. Aang took off his clothing, it was easy to get undressed with the simple way airbenders dressed. Imagine how many layers Zuko had to take off to bathe, especially with those huge shoulde roads.  He left his clothes in a wooden washtub, and after lifting the thin hemp curtain with one hand strode inside. 

Stream drifted through the air, it gently unfurled out from the pool, drifting slowly, filling every corner and crevice blurring his vision.  With that and the dim moonlight it was difficult to see more than a few shuka in front of you. It gave the baths a spiritual aura, like he’d stepped in the river that separated this world from the far shore.Flowers bloomed along the borders of the pool, their shed petals floated on the surface, and there was a small waterfall at the end of the pond for rinsing. 

It was pleasantly warm. Aang couldn't help the soft sigh of content that escaped him. He felt like a kid again bathing in the air temple hot springs with the other children. He let loose for a moment, extending his slender limbs and swimming all the way to the waterfall with a splash. 

Just as he rose from the water and wiped his face, he noticed someone was already showering in the surging waterfall with their back turned.

Lio. Aang should have known better to watch Lio from someplace unseen like a total stalker creep weirdo, but he stopped to watch their back as if possessed by some kind of spell. 

Their back was held tall and straight, the contours sharp and defined. But with the stars illuminating the steam Aang could make out countless scars, burn scars, and what looked to be whip marks on the center of their back. A body full of wounds. A body full of scars. So many it was impossible to find a piece of untouched flesh. 

There was no need to mention how much those wounds should hurt. 

Water fell down from above almost as if to cool off those burns, cascading over their body, rivulets gathering into a stream down the wide expanse of their back, down the valleys and peaks of their intricately carved muscles and finally into the divet between their buttocks. The water seemed infatuated with their body, clinging to them in a light stream that was loath to part. 

Lio’s head turned halfway to meet Aang’s gaze, just as Aang jerked his head up to preserve some of Lio’s dignity, “Hey, Aangie have you come to do some naked male bonding?”

“My best features are my back and my butt? What do you think, Aangie?”

Lio said , strode out from under the waterfall and pressed his hands on the rock wall blocking everything behind his massive back from view. 

That back took up Aang’s entire view. Their hair had grown out and fell in black, wild tangles just past their shoulder. Those shoulder blades slid down the small of their back. Aang’s esys followed the downward curve of their spine, their full and firm buttocks, and eyes ficxed on those fair plump curves for a moment because his head jerked up again. . “I think you are uh, very attractive, and you are connvingly using your attractiveness to try to distract me from asking about how you got that scar on your back.”

“Oh, I was a naughty boy and I was whipped before I was banished. It’s nothing… compared to the trouble I caused Li and my family back then it was absolutely nothing.” .” 

“Your pain isn’t nothing.” “Haha, what pretty words. Did the airbenders teach you to talk that way, or are you just that cheesy naturally?” Lio noticed Aang’s wince at the mention of the airbenders, “I’m sorry, Aangie, baby. I’m a bad, rude man. I just don’t like you looking at me like I’m some poor dying animal you found on the side of the road.” 

Lio’ s shoulder’s rose and fell, as they heaved a sigh. They weren’t some broken thing, it was easy to see the lean strength in those lines. Those shoulder blades were strong and massive, moving beneath the scarred skin. 

At that moment all Aang could think of was how adult Lio looked, even though they were only two years older. It wasn’t just the enormous height, it was the comfort they displayed wearing their own body, it was enough to make Aang feel like a fucking child in comparison. 

Graceful Lio suddenly gracelessly lost their balance and fell a step back from the wall. Lio quickly turned around, still hiding something behind their back, “I’m sorry Aangie, can we continue this conversation later? I thought we could bond in our nakedness, but human relationships aren’t so simple.”

Aang caught sight of it then, a smaller, curvier figure trying to slip away into the steam just then. Oh. Li mentioned Lio wanted to get married. Aang walked in on both of them in the bath. Mix gender bathing was normal in the fire nation, he told himself. Completely normal.

He caught sight of a feminine figure through the steam turning to leave. He didn’t initially recognize her - because under normal circumstances, that girl would never do something as ungraceful as stumbling and falling face first into the pool, sending a spray of water into the air. 

“Lazuli, watch your step.” One hand around Azula’s arm, Lio supported her from behind. The difference in their heights was such that their breath puffed against Azula’s ear as they lowered their head to speak, “If you’re not careful you might just fall for me.” 

“Cough, cough.” Azula inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of water in her panic. Swallowing bathwater she became indignant and disgusted discarding all appearance of calm composure, scrambling and flailing as she tried to find her footing.

Aang saw Azula, it was the closest he’d ever seen her, she looked quite different than when she had appeared on the opposite side of a battlefield. Aang saw Azula, but his brain refused to process the image. He wanted to ask what she was doing here, but it got stuck in his throat. He suddenly felt pathetic and spineless. Silence only continued to fan the flames of the situation. 

Aula naked and exposed. When people shed their clothes and exposed themselves they usually exposed their inner ugliness, but Azula was different.

He couldn’t look away. Even though his brain registered she was naked. When people shed their clothes and exposed themselves they usually exposed their inner ugliness, but Azula was different. The horrfiyng part, of this situation wasn’t that he’d humiliated Azula completely by accident. No, the true horror had been something that should not have even been possible. Something that would make a clown like Lio laugh.  The unsettling horror of it all was that Aang had found her beautiful.

Aang was suddenly forced to bear witness to a naked truth. Azula was a girl. Not only was she a girl, she was a beautiful girl. 

Until now, he’d believed Azula hard and made of steel like a machine of war with a fire burning inside her. Now he saw her soft flesh. The girl that had always been hiding underneath the fire nation army. 

A beautiful girl. It wasn’t something as perverted as being attracted to her naked body, it was just seeing the naked truth finally in front of his eyes, that Azula was a girl not yet fully mature barely older than him. Though it was sacreligious to compare her to Katara, it was like the first time he woke up to Katara’s face. It was different from Katara though, because she was lacking many of the qualities one would typically ascribe to ‘beauty’. 

When she was fourteen years old she was certainly eye catching in a dangerous way. Now she’d lost a lot of her ‘beauty’ from when she was fourteen. He wouldn’t call her skin pale in a way that evoked purity, or compare it to porcelain, she looked almost physically ill. She wasn’t thin, or lithe, but emaciated. There were dark rings that eclipsed her sun-colored eyes. She was like a plucked flower withering away within a bell jar, and yet, there was something about her. Something so… 

“Why are you staring, avatar? Have you not gone any farther than hand holding with your little water tribe girlfriend?” Something so…“...Beautiful.” 

He should not have said it. He should not have acknowledged that feeling. These were feelings he wasn’t supposed to have because Azula was… well, Azula. 

“What is it…? Speak clearly, don’t mumble, and look into the eyes of the person you’re talking to.” “Err… beautiful…” “Is your mouth broken? Oh no, I believe I broke the avatar. Again.” He confessed again. “I’m staring because you’re beautiful.” “You’re right, I am beautiful. I guess your eyes aren’t broken.” She was… She was definitely still Azula. Whatever had happened in the three months since he last saw her hadn’t changed her fundamental “Azula-Ness.” Then his sight of Azula was cut off as Lio pulled Azula close to them, stepping in front of her to obscure most of Aang’s view. 

Aang had several questions, but the first one that jumped to mind when he saw the two of them acting so close was, “Why are you bathing with Lio?”

“Mixed bathing is normal, and besides I’d never stare at a girl to make her uncomfortable. I’m a beautiful girl myself, and you don’t know how many creeps have stared at me, ” Lio said. 

That’s right, mixed bathing was normal in fire nation culture Aang reminded himself for the thousandth time. 

Bathing under the stars. Girls and boys together. No tension there whatsoever. Nope, not at all. 

Azula looked at Aang, “There’s nothing untoward about bathing with my betrothed.” “...Your betrothed.” “Yes.” “You’re getting married?” “Yes.” “To who?” “To Lio.” “You’re getting married to Lio.” “Can you not hear me? I thought those big ears of yours would at least be good for listening.” 

“Are my ears too big? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Were they just trying to be nice?” He was suddenly, very self conscious about the size of his ears but that was besides the point. “Why are you getting married to Lio?” “I fail to see how it’s any business of yours.” That’s right it wasn’t any business of his. 

So, why did he care? 

[signedeclipse]

Hey Eclipse! I hope you enjoyed the season finale, so so good!

I think an NSFW fic with Mitsuri comforting a recently turned fem!demon reader would be really nice! Maybe with a bit of body worship and some nice words would be great!

I hope you have a great morning/day/night!

Saccharine [Mitsuri X Reader]

Reader is Demon Female | NSFW

Recomended Song - Moonlight by Kali Uchis

Nothing could have hurt her more than seeing you turned, knowing she was the only one around to end it, to end the love she had craved so much in her life.

But something tugged at her, the hope associated with knowing Tanjiro and his sister, begging out that you'd fight it like she did, for her. She wanted it to be a fairytale, like a forbidden love!

As if the gods themselves had heard her plea, when your clawed hands finally moved from your face, every battle wound slowly healing, she saw you calling out to her with the look alone.

"Mitsuri, Mitsuri, what's happening to me?"

Sharp teeth shone in the light of the streetlamp, luckily only your canines seemed to have changed, though you didn't feel very different.

"Ahhh...! Don't worry my dear, you're okay! Thank goodness, you're okay!" She had run forward, sliding onto her knees despite the dirt that stained her stockings, and pulled you into an embrace.

Quickly, your arms wrapped around her, enticed by the sweet scent of her sakura perfume oils and saccharine soaps. She smelt amazing, more than usual, but you shook the thought away with a taboo understanding.

The demons had weaponizedMuzan's blood, and targeted you, known to be close to the hashira, but it seemed thair plan had backfired.

"I want to say it's pure love allowing me to keep my humanity, but I think Shinobu made a good call making us drink Wisteria, it must be combating the cells very efficiently..." You drew in a whisper, trying to convince yourself it wouldn't get any worse than this.

Your desire to eat flesh and bone only filled you with guilt, which repressed the very urges. You wouldn't dare hurt Mitsuri's feelings by eating someone.

When she pulled away, the pale green of her eyes observed every change, quickly flushing upon noticing certain changes in your looks. Your chest was...bigger, to say the least, and with the paler shade of your skin came the red flush of your lips and cheeks, standing out much stronger than before.

"Awh, you're too sweet...you look it, too!" Despite the fact that you had just finished a fight, and nearly succumbed to demonhood, Mitsuri seemed ready to pounce any moment, dancing one of her hands so the tips of her fingers went just below the hem of your corps skirt, pushing it up ever so slightly.

"I don't know...I must look like a freak! This may not even be it...god, who knows..." Hiding your face into your hands, you could feel your eyes burning with tears, ready to spill.

Immediately, Mitsuri shook her head frantically, pushing herself into you so her perked nipples brushed against yours through the cloth.

"No! No, not at all! You look amazing! I mean, you always have, but this suits you too!" The way she leant in with her entire body only worsened the heat in your cheeks, though you made no move to remove your hands from your face.

The girl let off a soft giggle, pushing her snaking hand further up your skirt and pulling at the hem of your panties, releasing it so it snapped against your skin, forcing a yelp from your lips.

"Mitsuri!" You were beyond flushed, worried someone might come across the bloodied alleyway or the pink haired girl getting lewd with you. Thankfully, the bodies left had long disintegrated, but it was still a concerning view.

"I love it when you say my name like that~" Half jokingly, the hashira teased as her head dipped into the crook of your neck, planting butterfly kisses down to your collarbone. She was exceptionally needy, but it seemed she wanted more than just a little flirting session.

When she looked up, Mitsuri noticed in your panting that your tongue had become forked, exciting the girl even further.

With her chest pressed against yours, they were moments from popping the buttons out of her shirt and allowing her breasts to spill. To save her the future embarrassment, your shaky hands quickly undid the buttons, letting them spill out in the cool summer night's air.

You took one into the hand that wasn't loosely hanging from her shoulder, fondling what you considered one of her best assets. When you teased the sharpness of your new claws over the perked nipple, it easily pulled a shudder from the hashira.

"You're always so focused on my tits, is there anything else you like?" "I like all of you! I just think I'm lucky to have these to myself." "You are such a perv, baby, I love it!"

Her derogatory name made you stiff, nervously looking away, focusing on the way her lips peppered kisses back up your neck to your cheek, and how her hand carefully made its way into your panties, pushing two fingers between the wet of your folds.

"It's hard not to be, 'tsuri...I'm thankful every day that I get to call you my own." Voice below a whisper, your eyes were more focused on the entrance to the alleyway, making sure no one was creeping on the two of you.

Each of her fingers slowly drew circles into the warmth of your clit, pushing down with enough pressure to put your eyes back on hers.

"You're so sweet to me, even after going through such a painful transformation! How about you just relax and let me explore my pretty girl's new body?" As she spoke in an attempt to lull you out of your complex thoughts, her fingers teased the opening of your hole, spreading it apart with the tips of her fingers.

Meekly, you nodded, letting the arm on her shoulder curl up to plant in her hair, dragging your hand along the silky feeling of her braids.

She continued to coo while her fingers played with your heat, pushing her thumb into your clit when her fingers finished sliding their full length into your pulsing pussy, which welcomed her kindly. She whispered about the way your breath changed as she'd please you, how your breasts perked, how your eyes shone so beautifully.

Mitsuri was a master at making you go dumb for her, and it seemed even becoming a demon hadn't changed that. The more she spoke, the more you fell into the world she wanted you to. Her fingers easily pumped into your pussy with a wet schlick that matched the soft mewls you'd let fall from your lips.

Her thumb quickened its pace, coalescing into your clit like there was no tomorrow. As much as she loved your sweet sounds, she couldn't help but lock lips with you, exchanging taste and basking in the new feel of your forked tongue that slid through her mouth with interest.

Even with your thighs shaking, her pace only increased. The kiss parted with a string of saliva that only broke when she spoke, falling onto her breasts.

"I love you so much, and I just want you to feel good, you deserve it so. so much." Quickly, she pecked your lips again, which remained parted and matched the hazy look in your eyes.

"Everything will be okay baby, I promise!" the clenching around her fingers told her you were close, though she only responded by pressing down on your clit further, circling her thumb faster so she could hear some more of that cute panting.

"That's right baby, I know, I know it feels so good~" Her voice was a whisper, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention, though she wanted to praise you nonstop when she watched your head fall back, your orgasm reaching a shaking peak.

Only then did she slow the repetitive motions, letting you ride out the addictive feeling, only removing her hand when you lifted your head again.

Happily, the woman popped her fingers into her mouth, licking the sacred slick from them. You tasted as amazing as ever!

Standing from her position on the floor, Mitsuri hooked an arm around your waist and used the arm you had slung over her shoulder to keep you steady on your feet.

"Come on, baby, let's get home and wash up! You won't want anyone to catch all that stuff running down your thighs, do you?"

Author Note -  I loved the finale so damned much! Though, I did wish we would have been Ubuyashiki or the others reaction to another two uppermoons being slayes, esp Tanjiro being one of the ones to get em! My friend actually waited for teh whole reaosn to release so we are watching it all over again rn and they never saw the manga which make sit that much more fun! "Genya became a demon!?!?" Erm...sorta! Anyways! Thank you for requesting, and I hope you enjoy! I love women so much...

Word Count - 1,380

[starmocha]

In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I just stumbled upon this and wanted to do it for funsies. I mainly write Sess/Kag under the pseud Tsuki no Tennyo, but I haven't written anything in like 1½ year on account of my house was destroyed by a fire and I had to deal with insurance bs for one full year lmao (hello yes, I did not abandon my stories, but the Universe had abandoned me 🥲)

Also, uh, this is just some of my "interested" wips. I didn't include "active" wips on account of I want them to be surprises. Also didn't include abandoned wips on account of I'm not active in those fandoms anymore for whatever reason.

Inuyasha (all Sess/Kag)

untitled sess realizes kag is a cat person

untitled sesskag 72-hour fake relationship weekend fic thing

untitled sesskag alice in wonderland horror fantasy-esque

untitled bonded forgotten promise sesskag

untitled sesskag robbing as couple au

untitled spy assassin au

untitled sesskag shitty restaurant shift

untitled sesskag wifi stealing neighbor

untitled sesskaginu ramen sushi feud

untitled meeting in tokyo flashback fic sesskag

untitled modern au falling in love

untitled unrequited love sesskag series

untitled everything the same except kag never traveled back in time

untitled 3-part sesskag baby fic

untitled terrible uncle inu

untitled my sunshine sequel

untitled my sunshine xmas midquel

untitled sesskag otome parody

untitled slice of life conversation

Hellhound - prologue

A Full Nest

You & I

Moonlight Flower

Wisteria Memories, Moonlit Secrets

Empty Gold [yakuza au]

3-Part SessKag Past Present ish

Untitled Tactics inspired

Several Shades of Sadism

5 Times Chiaki Tries to Cockblock + 1 Time You Cockblock Him

5 Times Toma Missed Jokes + 1 Time He Understood

7H crossover

Mutsuki + Bros

Rei & brothers

Café AU

mc makes bento

guilty toma

jealous toma

Painter of the Night

Neighbors + Cat AU

the path to hell

Seungho calling Nakyum “Lord”

Doctor Who

blow a kiss, fire a gun

i will get you love drunk

we got the keys to open paradise

untitled 12clara end of time

untitled 12clara slice of lfie au

untitled twelveclara acceptance thing ish

Girl Meets World

and my life is sweet like vanilla is

red dress on, high heels off

doc, there's a hole where something was

you can tell them you are mine

we'll be looking for sunlight

untitled joshmaya forgets to breathe

[izvmimi]

Mimi, what do you think the first time Tanjiro tells you he loves you is like? Is it moonlilt and under the cover of wisteria or is it during the day when he gets to see the sun light up your face when you hear him admit his truth?

i wrote an entire fic related to this and now i’m too embarrassed to share but it’s moonlight 😔

[definitelynotgideon]

This is a Genya Shinazugawa x OC (Gideon Azulyss) MLM Fic 🏳️‍🌈

AN/ this took me all day, coming back in spurts. Bleh. Anyway heres a rollercoaster of my own design-

CW/ Sexual reference, Hurt/Comfort, Light references to trauma, strong language.

Word count: 2,554

The Demons We Face | Chapter 12, Pajamas

Preview:

From where Genya was laying, the mohawked boy battled internally with the things that have protected him this far in life. Above all odds, Gideon had become someone he cared deeply for in a short amount of time. He was kind, and a small part of him felt healed, being able to cry without shame in the other boy's arms. But that in itself was dangerous. Gideon could be ripped from him at any moment like the majority of his family were. He could fuck something up, lost in his grief and guilt and every un-pretty thing inside of him and unintentionally push Gideon away… 

The silver haired boy was carefully, tactfully convincing Genya to allow his walls to be lowered, but the walls were what had kept him alive and… 

Parts of him were still so unsure. 

The nice thing about the butterfly mansion was the feeling of safety within the walls and gardens. Surrounded by wisteria trees, it was a safe haven and no one who dwelled here needed to worry about demonic activity after dark. 

The boys finished up their meals, thanking Aoi before wandering out of the dining area. Genya looked back to Gideon, who had followed behind. The silver haired boy’s attention went to the nearest window to the outside, and he noted the clear sky. 

He'd gotten into the habit over the last bit of time of wandering outside with tea in hand, wanting to bathe in the moonlight when possible on the engawa. However, with Genya's arrival, things could shift. He smiled softly as he turned, just in time to face Genya who had moved to see what he was looking at. 

Verdant eyes flashed with happy surprise and his smile bloomed into something more joyous as he met Genya's gaze. He was so happy to see him again, and he still hadn't quite registered that this wasn't just one of his lucid dreams. 

“So partner, where to now?~” Gideon asked him, his voice light. 

Genya had looked into his eyes as he turned, but noticed that Gideon had been gazing out the far window. “Well… were you wanting to go that way?” He asked, nodding towards the side of the building where the window was. 

Gideon shrugged. “I don't have to, I just liked sitting outside with tea in the evenings is all.”

He slipped his hand into Genya's. “I'd much rather spend time with you, if you're up for it. Are you tired?” 

Genya yawned as he asked, and it caused Gideon to yawn as well. Genya chuckled a little. “I wouldn't be opposed to settling in. But I've missed you and I want to catch up. Let's go sit outside with tea.”

It was then that Gideon noticed Genya's demeanor. He definitely looked exhausted from travel. Genya began to wander back to the kitchen but Gideon stopped him gently. 

“We can sit together outside another night. Let's get tea and settle in.” Gideon gave him a warm, reassuring smile, and then followed him in so they could start a kettle together. 

Another yawn from Genya, and just as he was about to protest. Gideon gave him a knowing smirk, and Genya conceded. “Alright.” 

As they prep and wait for the water to boil, Gideon pulls Genya in to hold him softly. His arms wrap around his waist and he looks up into his eyes. 

“I imagine you probably want your bed after the long journey. Would you mind going to my quarters first, so I can change clothes? Then we can sleep in your room.” 

Genya nods, agreeing to the plan and giving a small, tired smile. 

Gideon waits a moment, and then smirks as he looks at Genya. “And by sleep, I mean I'll wait until you're sleeping, and then I'll talk to your trees~” 

Genya grins and shakes his head. “How will you do that without waking me?”

“I'll whisper. I'm a champion at whispering.” 

“...How are you going to get out of my arms to do this?” 

“It's a challenge I'm willing to calculate for.”

“Alright, it's settled then. I'm laying on top of you.”

Gideon gasps, and then laughs. “You'll crush me!!” 

Genya takes the kettle off of the fire. “Nah. Mattress will help you not be crushed you'll live~”

“Don't underestimate how crafty I can be. Just because you flustered me and I stopped moving last time doesn't mean I can't escape now.”

Genya flashes him a very playful but devious grin. “Is that what happened? I think I can fluster you again. Keep you in your place. Under me~”

Gideon freezes and his face turns beet red. He stammers, grasping at any comeback he can but fuck, the image- 

And Genya knows he's won, so he revels in the aftermath as the silver haired boy falters beside him. He carefully pours tea for the both of them. 

Genya glances over and hands Gideon a tea cup. “I must have really got you; were you unprepared?~” 

Gideon gives a little flustered laugh and nods. “Y-yeah, damn. Congrats.”

Genya carefully inches over to him and kisses his forehead, but then shifts to whisper in his ear: “You're so cute when you're flustered~” 

Gideon squirms, almost dropping his tea cup. He's somehow more red now with that and he looks up at Genya as he pulls back. 

“How was that? Am I on level with you, whispering champion?~”

“You're such a tease, Genya.” Such a tease and it was almost unfair. Though Gideon supposed, if he'd struck the first fluster blow, it'd be about the same. 

There was another element to this though. Even if Gideon could fight back on any ground at this moment… The victorious grin on Genya's face was one of the hottest things the silver haired boy had ever seen. Confident Genya was incredibly sexy. 

So this battle would go to Genya, but not without some spoils being obtained by Gideon. 

“I only tease you because I like you,” Genya assured. “Now… come on. Let's get you into jammies.” 

Gideon smirked. He called them ‘jammies?’ Adorable. 

But Genya had called them jammies for a while prior. When he helped his younger siblings get ready for bed, they all called them jammies. Even Sanemi would call them that. 

Honestly, it was the context that caused him to call them jammies in front of Gideon though. Genya was opening up to Gideon in new ways over time. This was one of them, an endearing term that he'd likely not be caught dead saying to anyone else in the present.

They made it to Gideon’s room. Opening the door, the room already smelled pleasantly like lavender. Gideon took an appreciative inhale in to bask in the calming scent, releasing it slowly. 

Genya looked around his room. On his walls, Gideon had hung up sketches of things and places he'd found. Genya admired one drawing in particular, of a Rhinoceros Beetle. 

It reminded him of Sanemi a little. His older brother loved rhinoceros beetles. He thought back fondly to earlier in their childhood together when he'd catch them, bring them in the house to show mother, and then be told to release them. Genya would often come with on the hunts, and he'd also follow Sanemi back to the woods when it was time to say goodbye to the beetle friend. 

In the time that they'd entered and Genya had reminisced, Gideon had changed into a comfortable sleep kimono. He crept behind Genya and looked to the drawing he was admiring. 

“Do you like beetles?” He asked him softly. He'd sensed from Genya's silence that he was deep in thought, and sought not to disturb him too much by entering. He stood on his toes to rest his chin on Genya's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind.. 

“Yeah… but my brother loves them especially. We used to go out and look for these kinds of beetles all the time.” 

Gideon listens to him carefully, giving him space to share. A moment of silence passes and Gideon releases Genya from behind. “I think they're pretty neat beetles. He was fun to draw.” 

He goes to the drawing and unpins it from the wall, handing it carefully to Genya. “You should have it. It reminds you of good things, right?” 

Genya's eyes widened. “I can't- it's your art, you probably worked hard on it… I can't possibly take it from you.”

“I'm giving it to you. I can always draw more.” He places it in Genya's hands and gently presses his hand over Genya's. “You'll likely give me more material, and more inspiration to draw. Plus, you gave me a gift and I want to give one back.”

Genya begins to tear up slightly. Gideon places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and leans in to kiss his cheek softly. 

“It's okay, Genya. You're… you're hurting from something, aren't you? If you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen to you. I'm here.” His words were careful, just like his touch. 

Genya wraps his arms around him. The pain in his chest lessens just slightly, and Gideon rubs his back slowly. The tears come despite him wanting to hold them in and he hides his face in Gideon’s shoulder.

“S-sorry-” he managed. It came out as a small choke. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. You're allowed to cry. Here…” 

Gideon gently leads them over to his bed so Genya can lay down, and he crawls in beside him. “I'll hold you. If you fall asleep it's okay.” 

“O-okay,” he said, hiding his face in Gideon’s chest as he cried. As promised, Gideon held him close, keeping his breathing steady and gently, rhythmically, petting through Genya's soft hair. After about ten minutes… Genya had calmed. 

Gideon pulled back slightly after his breathing evened out to see if he'd fallen asleep. He hadn't, and he looked up at Gideon with a sniffle, his eyes slightly puffy.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Gideon cooed to him.

Genya blinked softly to adjust to the light in Gideon's room. “...Really tired actually.” 

Gideon nodded. It was to be expected. Sometimes a good cry could make one feel tired once everything finished up. He looked at Genya's uniform.

“Are you still wanting to go to your room? You'd probably feel better… being able to clean up a bit and change into pajamas.” He reached up to push some of Genya's hair from his face. “If you don't want to move, you can borrow something of mine if you'd like.”

Genya looked into Gideon’s eyes. The day was catching up with him. Hell. The *mission,* the past *month* was catching up with him. He couldn't mentally fathom moving right now. 

“Could I please borrow something?” He asked, feeling somewhat pathetic that he couldn't even bear to go down the hall to his own room. 

But Gideon smiled warmly at him. “Of course. Let me grab clothes for you.” He pulled away from Genya carefully, not wanting to jostle him. 

Going over to his closet, he pulled out pajamas for Genya to borrow. 

For all that Gideon had been through, he'd learned to parent himself pretty well. He didn't subscribe to his parents’ version of love, and while he appreciated the elderly couple who took him in out of kindness, they weren't super well equipped to handle his emotions. That's what he thought anyway. He had to regulate himself without snuffing himself out, otherwise he was certain he'd be left. Tossed out again for not adding up. If his parents could do it, anyone could. 

And so he parented himself; the only person who'd be there for him at the end of the day without fail. 

But… he knew that people needed each other. The world was fucked up, and people could be ripped from his grasp at any moment. But… It wasn't an excuse to isolate himself. He could show people kindness, he could be strong for those who needed help. It's why he joined the corps. 

From where Genya was laying, the mohawked boy battled internally with the things that have protected him this far in life. Above all odds, Gideon had become someone he cared deeply for in a short amount of time. He was kind, and a small part of him felt healed, being able to cry without shame in the other boy's arms. But that in itself was dangerous. Gideon could be ripped from him at any moment like the majority of his family were. He could fuck something up, lost in his grief and guilt and every un-pretty thing inside of him and unintentionally push Gideon away… 

The silver haired boy was carefully, tactfully convincing Genya to allow his walls to be lowered, but the walls were what had kept him alive and… 

Parts of him were still so unsure. 

When Gideon came back to the bed and handed Genya a set of PJs, Genya shifted and changed into them rather unceremoniously. Gideon helped by collecting Genya's clothing and setting them nearly on the nearby chair. 

“Gideon…”

“Yeah?” 

“...Why… Do you want me?” 

Gideon felt the pain in the question. Genya was avoiding eye contact as well. Gideon sat on the bed beside him and took his hand gently. 

“There are so many reasons I want you, Genya.” He pauses to squeeze his hand. “I sense that you're an incredibly kind, loving person and I would love nothing more than to experience things alongside you, and *with* you. You're… the most beautiful person I've met. The strongest person, too.”

Gideon tucked a little to try to look him in the eyes with a smile.

“You scared the *shit* out of me at first but as I got to know you … I realized that you have your walls up a lot. I'm grateful that you let me in, and it's that act and all of the ways that you continue to allow me in that make me want you more. Everything I get to learn about you… everything that is you, is precious to me.” 

Genya listened to him speak, feeling his anxiety ease. He looks up to meet Gideon’s gaze and Gideon cups his cheek. 

“Is that alright?” He asks softly.

Genya nods to him, a small smile gracing his face. 

Gideon stands and scoops Genya into a hug from the side of the bed. “You're amazing,” he cooed into Genya's ear. It was muffled slightly into his shoulder. 

“I think you're pretty amazing too, Gideon.” 

Genya squeezes Gideon and pulls him into the bed with him. “Now… c’mere, and let me squish you.” 

Genya grins as Gideon flails, laughing in his strong hold. “Genya, no!!” 

“Genya, yes,” he says, easily rolling so Gideon is under him. Gideon squeals and hides his face in his hands, but Genya simply yawns and forces himself under Gideon’s arms. 

“I'd wrestle with you more but I'm super tired,” he says sleepily into Gideons ear, smirking as Gideon squirms under his weight. 

“Goodnight Gideon~” 

“GENYA YOU'RE SQUISHING MY ORGANS-”

“What's that you say? You want me to squish your organs?”

“HNNNG NO-”

Genya grins big as he brings all of his limbs in to squish Gideon under him, laughing quietly as Gideon tries as hard as he can to wriggle free and stops out of exhaustion. 

“Is this my life now? Is this what having a boyfriend is gonna be like?”

Genya shifts so that he's nose to nose with Gideon. “Absolutely it is,” he said, smirking before stealing a kiss from Gideon's lips and ultimately releasing him. He shifts over to the wall side of the bed, waiting for Gideon to settle into a comfy position before he cuddles him.

Gideon reaches to turn his lamp off, slipping under the blanket and inviting Genya to do the same on his side. He lays down, feeling Genya's arms wrap protectively around him as he scoots to be flush with him. Genya sticks his nose right into Gideon’s hair, breathing in and out in contentment. 

They say their goodnights, and drift off to sleep at the same time as one another.

[sabraeal]

Age of Reason, Part 4

[Read on AO3]

Written for PurePassion, the other half of @traditional-with-a-twist, who also won the Obiyuki Madness Kitty! I am not often asked for more of this fic, but I am all too happy to oblige!

The thing is, the ambiance��� it doesn’t add up.

Country nights run black as pitch, and the shadows here stretch deep in the stuff, dragging across the marble floors like a tiger’s stripes. The sort of inky darkness so thick a mind might trick itself into think it could leave streaks on a man, that it might even be solid enough to reach out and swallow given half the chance. The kind of endless deep that really gets the small animal of the soul shivering, wondering what might be on the other side— or if there is an other side to find. Toss a dir down a well like that, and you might be more surprised to hear it hit bottom.

That alone could have a man jumping at his own footsteps, thinking he sees ghouls and demons and worse around every corner. There’d been more than a few grifts where Obi had the dark do the heavy lifting, letting a moonless night press in around the kind of men who had more pride than sense. The kind that were eager to prove there was no vengeful spirit lurking around the village hall, or no vampires stalking through their forests in the dead of night. Convincing the shepherd went a long way in convincing the sheep, after all.

But tonight is no moonless night— no, he’d picked an evening where the old lady sat fat in her velvet bower, molting moonlight the way birds might their feathers, so bright there’d been no need for candles, even in the deepest bowels of the manor. No need for any casual passerby to know someone had been poking around the old pile, not when a ghostly princess would soon make her debut. Last thing he’d wanted was folk around here wondering if the ethereal princess had a more earthly in origin.

Picked the first night of the full moon too, just in case he needed to move fast— these Clarinese were always so quick to fall back on reason, once the fear had its time to settle, like water sinking below oil in a flask. There were ways to make skin glow and sigils flare if an enterprising person knew the angles the moonlight would slant through the window and the sort of unguent and powders that would use it to its best effect. The real could become surreal in the right man’s hands, and Obi— well, he’d made himself the right man long ago.

But standing here, staring at this apparition’s ghostly pallor, so translucent he can see where her veins run along the length of her forearms and snake up the column of her neck, blood soaked and flaking from the linen of her nightrail, and well—

It just doesn’t lend itself to the word con man. Or the way her hip cocks, unimpressed, as she cradles that bundle in her arms.

“Ah, miss!” He presses a hand to his chest, sketching the barest bow. She’s no sleeping princess, that’s for sure, but it always pays to be polite. “Con man is such an ugly term. I am a helper of man, a hunter of the unknowable, a—”

“A scoundrel, then.” She sets her bundle against her shoulder, the wailing cutting off with a hitch. It turns to a whine, the blankets squirming in strange, jerking movements. “Or perhaps you prefer ne’er-do-well?”

His hand drops, boneless under that dubious stare of hers. “I’ll have you know I do quite a bit of good.”

“I’m sure,” she says, too polite to be sincere. “I am curious though— what’s the grift, here? The house is closed for the season, but you’ll hardly be able to convince the townsfolk that there’s ghosts in the basement, or werewolves in the orchard. And when the guard find out you’ve snuck past them…”

There’s a doleful little warning in the glance she gives him, one that promises a tour of whatever dark corners the royals like to keep their undesirables in. But it’s hard to feel the threat of it when Obi hadn’t seen so much as a single petal of Wisteria blue since he stepped into town, and he doubts he’s about to see more. “Grift? Miss, I was sent here. Asked— no, begged, really— to come investigate the goings on here at the manor. There’s supposed to be a girl here, spurned by her royal lover and left to sleep for—”

“Ah, you’re a monster hunter.” Her smile’s almost fond when she shakes her head, as if he were a child dressed in his father’s maile, declaring himself a dragon slayer. “I haven’t seen one of those since I left Tanbarun. I never thought one would try their luck here.”

He wouldn’t have if sleeping mistress hadn’t seemed like sure money. “Is that so.”

“I thought germ theory sent all of you scampering back over the border.” Hand rubbing in soothing circles over the bundle, she peers down the hall. “So where is your partner?”

“Partner?” This girl knows far too much for those doll-like eyes. “I’m alone. Why would you think I had���?”

“Because someone has to be the monster, don’t they?” She takes a step, glancing through one of the open doors. “What was it supposed to be? Tragic young maiden, wrongfully killed before her time? Scullion who got in the family way and chose to take her own life, rather than suffer the dishonor? Oh, or perhaps a vampire—”

“With all due respect, Miss,” he blurts out, impatient. “I believe it was supposed to be you.”

“Me?” She doesn’t so much speak the word as shape it, mouth rounding as her gaze drops, tracing the eerie trails of blood winding down her gown. “Oh.”

*

If Obi thought it had been a pain sneaking out, it’s somehow an even bigger pain sneaking back in to Torou’s room. The window’s loud, for one, grunting and groaning as he tries to swing the pane from the sash, nearly slamming back in on his fingers once he does get it open. The company, for the second— and third, since the young lady balks when he offers to hold her blankets and give her a boost, and in the process of strapping it to her back, he discovers it isn’t an it at all.

“That’s a baby,” he hisses, nearly dropping the thing in panic.

“Of course he is.” She turns her head over her shoulder, mouth matching the baby’s disgruntled pout. “What did you think he was?”

Evidence of a mental illness, he doesn’t say, settling instead for, “There, all snug now. Now will you let me boost you up?”

And for the fourth, well…there’s something left to be desired in their reception, too.

“What are you thinking?” Torou squeaks, fingers tights as iron bands where they grip his arm. “You meet a girl covered in blood, and you think we should bring her in on the take?”

“I think we should hear her out at least,” he says, watching the girl linger by the kitchen fire. “Let her warm up a little. Maybe get her a new dress?”

What’s she’s got clings to her in all the wrong places, too stiff and crusted to seem like a second skin, but molded to her in a way that suggest it’ll feel like one when she pulls it off. Torou doesn’t miss it either, a breath huffing out as her arms cross over her chest.

“Fine. One dress.” She casts the girl a long look. “And one night. We can hear what she has to say, but if I don’t like it…”

Her thumb hitches over her shoulder. “That’s all I ask.”

*

“Oh…” There’s a chair drawn up before the fire— he’d dragged it there himself while he waited, not quite sure why he bothered. At least, not until the girl sinks down into it with a sigh, stretching out her legs until the joints crack. “Feels like I haven’t done that in ages.”

The baby’s still in her arms, sleeping now, small face tucked up against her chest. It— he grunts every breath or so, little frown furrowing deeper with each one, an old man’s face writ in smaller lines. It doesn’t seem possible for someone to be that tiny, to be that new and be out in the world with only a few scraps of cloth to keep him safe.

“Ah, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” Her head tilts back to look at him, hair shining penny-bright in the firelight. “Do you happen to have some…something to eat?”

Torou glances at him, unimpressed, before telling her, “There’s some stew I can warm up. Bit of bread too, if you don’t mind it’s a bit stale.”

“Oh!” Her breath hitches. “That…that would be quite enough, thank you. I don’t have anything to pay you, but I’m sure I could, um…?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Obi tells her, feeling the weight of the purse at his belt. “It’s on the house.”

There’s not a drop of noble blood running through Torou’s veins— neither of them; if he knows one thing, it’s that for sure— but she could give the finest countess a run for her money with the arch on her brow now, a look so loud he practically hears, ‘Oh, is it now?’ echoing in his ears. He gives her a charming smile, his best, and only budges that brow a bit higher.

“On…?” The girl’s cheeks flush, not perched all pretty on the apples of her cheeks, the way a prince’s mistress should, but splotchy like a farmer’s daughter. Not ideal for running this grift, but beggars can’t be choosers. Not like vengeful ghosts were given to be bashful anyway. “The kindness is appreciated, but I couldn’t presume to…” Her head shakes, though he doesn’t miss her glance toward the pot, all hunger. “This is a place of business.”

Between one blink and the next, Torou changes; stubborn giving way to surprise, then gives way to a different sort of stubborn. She’s already reaching for a trencher when he says, “Seems a fair exchange to me, miss…for a name.”

She hesitates now, one arm squeezing tighter on the babe, shoulders hunched as if her slight body could protect him from anything more substantial than a breeze. “…Shirayuki.”

He mouths the name, oddly familiar on his lips. A nice one, even if it doesn’t come with a last name to match. Not all do, where he’s from. He certainly doesn’t have one to give. “And him?”

She’s more eyes than face— probably even was even before that babe of hers pulled every last scrap of life from her it could— and all of it glances down to the bundle in her arms, a pink, wrinkled face pouting out from the swaddle. “I…” Her voice is so soft he hardly hears it over the scrape of the ladle. “I don’t know yet.”

Torou bustles over to her, thrusting the bowl between them. “Not going to name him after the father?”

It’s a cheap ploy, but an effective one. The sort they’ve made their bread and butter on for years, spooling out reason and rumor alike from the townsfolk they fleece, using every last thread of it to weave their grift. Except on this girl— this Shirayuki— there’s no crying or raging, no nothing. Just a tightening of her mouth and a small furrow carving itself between her brows.

“I don’t think,” she says, so carefully, tightening the makeshift swaddle around him, “that would be a good idea.”

Torou’s mouth goes a little pinched too. “You can’t eat and hold that thing. Here,” she says, holding out her arms. “Let me take him. Just for a minute.”

The girl shrinks back, eyes measuring the distance between Torou’s outstretched hands and the door. Whatever number she gets can’t be compelling.

“Listen,” Torou sighs, cocking a hip. “If he’s going to eat, you got to too, right? Can’t do that without both hands.”

Obi’s mouth twitches. “Unless you want me to feed you, Miss. I’d be happy to serve on bended knee, if only you said—”

The girl can’t get the babe into Torou’s arms fast enough. “Thank you.”

Her mouth twitches, meeting the babe’s eyes. “Don’t mention it.”

*

“Tell me you aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking,” Torou mutters, jogging the baby boy up on her shoulder. He’s fussing quiet-like, not enough chest to make the full-bodied shrieks a bigger babe could, but he’s grunting— whimpering, really— nosing around Torou’s neck like if he roots hard enough, he might find his mother.

He holds up his hands, the picture of innocence. “I’m not thinking anything.”

“You don’t got to tell me that.” Her gaze darts over to where the girl sits, digging into her stew slowly, methodically even, but still— there’s an intensity to it. An urgency. Probably can’t remember the last time she ate, but she’d rather die than give that away. He’s seen it before— hell, done it before. “But I mean under all that not thinking. Tell me you’re not going to…”

There’s no need to say the words, not when they both know— “She’s perfect.”

“Are you nuts?” she hisses, so close to shrill he nearly shushes her. The baby does it instead, whining into her shoulder, little limbs jerking where he rests. A hand to the back soothes him, but Torou still glares, so tense that mane of hers nearly stands on end. “We don’t know anything about her.”

“Come on.” His charm might be wasted on Torou, but reason wouldn’t be. “This isn’t like our other jobs. These people actually knew the girl. We can’t just stuff you in a nightgown and hope for the best.”

“And what’s to say she’s got the look anymore than I do?” she sniffs, chin taking it most stubborn angle. “Sure, you found her in that creepy old pile. Sure, she was covered in blood. That’s doesn’t make her…her…”

She glances down at the kid, strangely pale— and even more strangely silent.

“Look at her. She’s so thin you can practically see through her. Put her under the moonlight with that bloody dress and even I thought she could be…” He clears his throat. “Red hair too. Not easy to find in these parts.”

Though he could have sworn he saw it recently. Not as apple-bright as this, but still, something close. Kissing-cousins. Family.

“You can dye hair,” Torou mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. No conviction. He’s got her hooked, now he’s just got to reel her in.

“To that color?” His shoulder bumps her, drawing a gurgle from that sleepy baby throat. “Come on, it’s not like we have better plans. What’s the harm?”

Torou stiffens, a palm absently rubbing over the baby’s back. “What if you’re right?”

He blinks. “What?”

“What if…?” She licks her lips. “What if this isn’t a coincidence?”

A scoff escapes him before he can catch it, which means he has to commit. “You can’t really think she’s the mistress, can you? Torou, you—?”

“I know what I saw,” she growls, voice pitched low. “She was cursed, Obi. And no one knows why! What if…what if they find out she’s awake and—”

“Torou.” His hand weighs heavy on her shoulder, trying to ground her, to recognize it’s earth under her feet. “We make up all our grifts! There’s never been a vengeful ghost, or a werewolf, or a…a cursed princess. They’ve all been parts you play!”

She shakes her head, all eyes when she looks up at him. “But the best lie has a grain of truth in it. What if…what if we’ve finally found ours?”

Obi frowns down at her, a strange sense of dread knotting in his gut. “We know what this world can do, don’t we? And if it could do something like that…”

Then maybe it wouldn’t be just the two of them. Or maybe they wouldn’t be here at all. A little bit of magic could change everything, once a body started to believe.

“We’ve made a mint making other people fools,” Torou says finally. “But I’m telling you, Obi. If we get involved with this girl, we’ll be the bigger ones.”

He’d love to get the last word in on that one, to tell her she’s just being as gullible as their marks, but he can’t get a peep out, not when the little man on her should rears back his head and wails.

“Oh!” There’s only the trencher left in the girl’s hands when she turns back, already half-eaten. “He must be hungry.”

It’s Obi that lifts him from Torou’s shoulder, letting a grin tilt his lips. “Hey, Miss,” he starts, patting the little guy on his back. “Tell me if you’ve heard this one before…”

[ofduskanddreams]

My Name, Your Confession

formerly titled: "He Who Must Not Be Named"

This fic was originally written for Elucien Week 2022. Now it's been heavily revised (2k words added) and rebranded ahead of the second true installment that will be coming relatively soon.

Summary:

Elain and Lucien are both determined to ignore the bond at Nesta’s mating ceremony, but their ideas backfire as the bond chafes them both to a breaking point. Elain refuses to say Lucien’s name when he’s around—Lucien vows to make her scream it before the night ends. Is it really recklessness if it’s fate?

Find the fic here on AO3. Enjoy the excerpt below!

[Elain POV - SFW]

It wasn’t hard to find him, she just followed that little light in her chest and the sound of a beating heart to the wisteria-covered stone pavilion at the edge of the Sidra, far from the lights and music of the party. 

He was standing, watching the river flow by. A light breeze toyed with long, brilliant red strands of hair, carrying the scent of sunshine and cloves right to her. Damn her traitorous body, but Elain felt heat rise in her cheeks at the sight of him in the moonlight; at the ridiculous breadth his shoulders displayed by a stupid, perfectly tailored jacket.

“Elain.” He greeted her tersely, not even bothering to turn around.

She ignored how the sound of her name on his lips made a thrill run through her. 

“Not enjoying the party?” She leaned against a pillar, examining her lacquered nails.

He turned around, a fire burning within his russet eye and gave her a fake little smile. “You aren’t either, seeing as you’re out here.” He scoffed, eyes narrowing. “What? Not interesting enough to keep the shadowsinger entertained?” 

Usually the words would have cut deep, but Elain knew this was nothing more than a barb meant to bait her. She wanted to show this arrogant asshole that she could play his games better than he ever could; to make him feel an ounce of the turmoil that overwhelmed her whenever he was near.

Elain pushed herself off the pillar and took slow steps towards him, swinging her hips a little more than necessary. “Maybe I was the one who got bored.”

“Took you long enough,” he muttered.

She cocked her head, taking the moment as an opportunity to rake her eyes over him—a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself yet this evening. “Why are you out here?”

His face as she approached him could only have been described as predatory. Something about it made her blood sing. He stalked towards her until he was close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to look at him.

“Do you want the real answer, or the proper one?” His voice was quieter now, lower, and delectably edged with danger. 

Elain felt her skin pebble at the sound, and her nipples peaked. A kind of smug satisfaction washed over her as she watched his eyes dip down to them and widen—they were clearly visible through the thin lilac silk. His heartbeat quickened.

The hunger in his gaze made Elain feel powerful, bold. “I think it's about time we dropped the pretense, don’t you?”

— — —Read the full piece here.

I had like 20 followers and 2 fandom friends when this was originally written, so the taglist is literally any follower who I think might be interested (If you've already read this, know that there have been some significant changes.)

[kemakoshume]

Beneath the Wisteria Blooms ✾ — tengen x black!f!reader x rengoku 

warnings; none for this part! this is all introduction/world-building stuff :D there are original characters in this fic and this chapter has some ~language~ but that’s it ~

a/n; uh wtf lmao i added notes and everything got deleted... anyway lol fair warning this chapter mentions rengoku and tengen but they don’t get into the fray until next chapter! this was at [5.4k words] already so i decided to split it in half. here's the mood/vision board for this fic [here] if you're interested in a visual. song i wrote this to [here]. the reader is meant to be black but like always, anyone can read my stuff (as long as you’re 18+ and respectful). okay... that’s it lol enjoy ~ [ch one; ch two, ch three, ch four, ch five] ~

Two hundred and eighty-six days have passed since the last time your household hosted a hashira. Many soldiers have passed through in the time between—beckoned to the wisteria crest on your gates like moths to a flame practically daily, knowing they would be safe under your care. Mizunoe, hinoto, even some kinoe-ranked demon slayers have entered your doors and healed beneath the care of your hands in the weeks, then months, that have passed—but finally, that long wait has come to an end.

“Mistress. Mistress!” you yelled, your voice shaking. “There are two crows here requesting access to the home.”

The crows flew overhead, squawking their message down at you on a loop as you waited for the head of your household to dismiss their alarm. The small middle-aged woman appeared soon after, walking up from your left on bare feet in a perfectly wrinkle-free yukata. Her feet thudded lightly against the wooden flooring as she approached, sliding beside you to look up at the birds.

“So?” she said, scrunching her slim upturned nose in annoyance. “We’ve housed more than two guests at a time, and we have no visitors here for the night. Let them come. There’s plenty of space and I hear some of the girls preparing things already.”

Though your Mistress happily did her duty without complaint, you could see that the woman was irritated at the early-evening interruption. Her long dark hair was loose from its typical bun, and the late-spring air moved the pin-straight strands around her face beautifully, though it didn’t hide how sunken her light amber eyes looked with exhaustion against her pale skin.

In the wake of the last large fight with a higher-ranked demon, your home had been void of visitors for the first night in ages. All was quiet as mostly all of the home’s inhabitants—girls and young women, just like you, plucked from the streets and taken in to support and build up the diverse home—were also excited to have some downtime, so they’d all planned to turn in a bit early as well. Alas, as you both basked in the moonlight’s glow from where you stood in the open doorway, that dream was quickly dashed. The words interlaced within the crows' caws rid all thoughts of sleep from your mind.

“Mistress Miya, the crows both belong to a hashira—two different hashira,” you said, widening your eyes to punctuate your words.

The woman was speechless for a moment as she processed what you’d said, but sure enough, her tired eyes took on a soft sparkle under the night stars, and her dull skin regained its flush of rosy-pink color. “Two?” she said, placing her hands on your shoulders. “For nearly a year, there hasn’t even been one, and now there are two?” She nearly yelled the words, her breaths growing quicker as she turned around to face the crows.

She kneeled, whistling up at the crows to dismiss their loud caws. She guided them down to the sizeable station made for them to rest their wings beside the home’s large shoji doors. Both birds landed gracefully, fluffing their wings and dipping their bodies in the wide bird bath imbued with lavender-scented oils and wisteria blossom petals. The Mistress shuffled her feet, squatting in front of the onyx-feathered birds’ perch to put her body at their eye level.

“Can you tell us your names?” she asked, her moderately age-withered skin stretching and exposing fine lines as she broadened her smile. You stood behind her in the home’s doorway, looking fondly at the birds as they balanced on their sturdy wooden perch beneath the wisteria vines.

*caw caw* the birds sang, notably speaking over each other as they rushed to tell you their introductions. You focused in your ears on them both but caught more of what the smaller crow of the two had to say—which was plenty.

“Child, what did this little one say?” she asked, beckoning you forward to polish your skills with decoding the crows’ language. “Every word.”

You giggled as you approached the birds, crouching down like your Mistress to put yourself at their level. You glanced at the larger bird before speaking, but the tangibly humanlike irritation radiating from him had already commenced due to what his counterpart had to say.

“Okay, every word.” You cleared your throat, looking politely at the bird as you repeated her statement. “Well, this one on the left is called Manju,” you said, motioning to the petite crow with a smile. “She said first and foremost that her master, Rengoku Kyojuro, is mostly unharmed—having only suffered some mild bruising despite multiple days of battle. She wanted it to be known that she is a lady, wholly unlike the tacky brute perched next to her, and that she would appreciate it if we added seeds mixed with dried corn to the feeder for her tonight, as she hasn’t had the chance to eat in two days due to their tumultuous schedule.”

As you wrapped up your summary of Manju’s introduction, you noticed the larger crow of the two shuffling closer to her, not so subtly attempting to knock her off of their perch while he said his peace in retaliation, though Manju elegantly dodged the petty swipes at her feet that the other crow made with his talons.

*caw caw caw caw caw* he said, so loudly in the still night air that you heard the last of the girls housed on the second-floor stirring, triggered by the second wave of loud birdsong that made them get up out of bed. You sputtered, an unladylike laugh escaping your lips as you processed what the male bird was saying. Not only taken aback by how loud and brash the jewelry-laden crow was but also how much petty malevolence the small avian animal managed to pack into mere sounds.

Your mistress turned her head, looking at you with eyes that would have marked you dead had they physically been able to shoot daggers. “Mind your manners,” she whispered, nodding her head towards the crows as if she were completely unphased by their bickering.

“Sorry, Mistress Miya,” you said, wiping the budding tears welling along your lower lash line as you stifled your giggles. “Do I have to translate everything he said or only the important bits?”

The older woman shook her head, motioning for you to continue with her hands. “ Every word. I can’t judge your accuracy if you don’t repeat it all back. Besides, we can’t miss a single thing regarding their messages for everyone’s safety, no matter how many curses the messages contain. Go on.”

You nodded, clearing your throat as you recounted the crow’s words. “This dashing, handsome, flashy crow on the right is named Nijimaru. He says that his superior master Uzui Tengen is also unharmed besides a few minor cuts and scrapes. He would like nuts and berries cut flamboyantly for dinner, if possible. He also says that “useless bitch Manju” should watch her words since his crown’s jewels have more value than her “full of shit” existence. Also, he said she wouldn’t know fashion if a demon sliced her down the beak with it, so we should disregard her childish, shitty insults.”

The female crow made a high-pitched squawk, insulted again after hearing the words through your mouth. Then, she extended her wing in one swift movement, hitting Nijimaru hard enough to disrupt his balance on the skinny wooden landing pole, knocking him off.

*caw caw caw* Manju said before flying after the retreating male bird, following him into the bath as he tried to escape her presence—muttering something along the lines of, “stupid pea-brained woman, besting me? Ha! Never.”

Your Mistress whipped around toward you in surprise, panic blooming on the delicate features of her rounded face as you both processed what Manju said. “They’ll be here in twelve minutes?” she yelled, corralling you into the house while shouting for all the other girls to make haste.

Once you entered the genkan—the home’s large entrance foyer—you were met with the pleasant sight of all of your housemates already busy at work, tidying and cleaning whatever their hands could reach. The smell of freshly steamed rice, grilled meats, and cooked vegetables wafted up into your nose, and your mouth began to water. The youngest of the girls walked around the home, skipping and holding hands as they hung talismans for good fortune and flowers for both virility and muliebrity all over the place; while the older girls who were outside of the kitchen took charge of dressing and grooming each other, while simultaneously darting around to get the items sorted and prepared for their hallowed guests.

You couldn’t help but smile watching them. You took a moment to pat their heads and place quick kisses against their cheeks as you walked by, whispering ‘thank you’ in each of their ears as you did so. Your household had done this a million times, but seeing the girls get quicker and quicker with it every night felt rewarding—to see your small family coming together to make your home a safe space for the men and women who kept you alive made your heart swell.

“Ayra!” your Mistress yelled, snapping you back into focus as she called out for the second oldest of the girls—at nineteen—under you.

“Back here!” she yelled, her voice carrying into the home from the spacious forest-protected garden nestled beyond your back porch.

You walked around the side of the large house, careening down the long stone pathway, until you felt the temperature in the air shift where the path forked. Both you and your Mistress easily navigated yourselves down to the trail's end, stopping once you reached the sizeable hot spring shrouded thinly in dense steam.

Ayra was there kneeling, hunched over with her arm plunged into the lantern-lined hot spring. Had her soft grunts from her efforts not been louder, you might have missed her slim figure hunched over into the large spring of water. It was half-hidden by the home's awning and the immaculately gardened flowers and shrubbery and could only easily be seen when the wind blew south, and the steam cleared.

“Is it hot?” the Mistress asked, squinting her eyes to look on as the olive-toned young woman fiddled with the thick layer of rocks on the very bottom of the spring, using—what you could only assume—was a very long stick.

“Yes,” she quipped, groaning as she flipped over what must have been a hefty rock, “it is now. I just need to move a few more stones out of the way to make the temperature perfect. Did I hear the crows correctly? Are we hosting two hashiras? Master Tengen and Master Kyojuro?”

You nodded, though you quickly followed with verbal confirmation. “Yes, you heard right. I wonder what sort of temperament they’ll be. Normal men find it within themselves to be cruel and flippant. I can’t imagine how men with their power will be.”

You heard Ayra chuckle before the water sloshed violently again as she moved another rock.

“I’ll be frank; I do wonder the same. I’ve never met these two before,” your Mistress said, pursing her lips. “Though, the corps soldiers do tend to be pleasant enough to us—some a little more fervidly than others,” she said with a knowing hint to her tone that you ignored. “It’s true that men with power seemingly can’t help but abuse it; however, you will give them your grace. Maintain your self-respect, but be kind to them. They deserve that much from us.”

You nodded, a hushed ‘yes Mistress,’ leaving your lips as the tall girl removed her arm from the hot spring—along with her stick—and stood, straightening her back to wipe her damp hands and dust off her knees.

“The last hashira we had was a woman,” Ayra said, hiding her stick in the nearby bushes as she jogged up to you from the cloud of steam. “What a curious thing she was with that wild watermelon hair. I wonder if the men will differ much from her. I’ve heard all the hashira are strange in their own ways.”

Your Mistress tsked, darting her arm out quickly to smack Ayra firmly against her forehead with the small fan she kept hidden in her kimono sleeve. Then she turned on you, popping you swiftly on the arm by proxy of Ayra’s comment. “Mind your tongues,” she warned, staring at both of you sternly. “Every person has their proclivities; the hashira are no different. If you notice anything off about them, at least have the good sense not to mention it.”

Your Mistress rolled her eyes, ignoring your giggles as she turned on her heels. She yelled into the side corridor of the house, telling the other girls to make sure they were doing their best work since your guests were especially superordinate.

“We have nothing if not our good sense, Mistress. We take care of our guests just fine,” Ayra teased, sharing a look—and a wink—with you. “I’ve heard the town girls speaking about that ‘Master Tengen’. Allegedly, he’s dashingly handsome and courted three wives.”

“Three?” you asked, fiddling with the sleeve of your yukata. “And what of the other one? Rengoku?"

Ayra pouted, huffing in frustration as she shared her knowledge—or lack thereof. “I’ve heard no rumors about him that will do us any good, unfortunately. He deeply loves gyunabe bento, and his hair looks like a sunset. That’s all I know.”

Your Mistress rolled her eyes again, sliding her arms back into her sleeves. “Ayra, you should focus more on your chores or reading and less on gossiping.”

“Oh, please, Mistress. As if my gossip isn’t why you came running back here as soon as you got word that the men were hashira,” Ayra said, mischief alight behind her hazel-brown eyes. “Besides, I made sure the girls are on it. Sopheary and Yua are putting down all the bedding for the men in the big guesthouse. Prisha and Lucía are getting fresh samue for the pillars to wear once they’ve bathed, and they’ve already heated the bath meant for cleansing. Himari and Dorothea are cooking up those premium meats that charming hinoe-ranked boy dropped off last week. I smelled sukiyaki nabe, sashimi, aloo gobi, kafta, plenty of rice, and…” she hummed, placing her hands on her hips as she let the train in her brain run. “I think that’s it. That should be enough for just two of them. Don’t you think?”

You smiled, pleased with your friend’s leadership and efforts. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you, Ayra,” you said, scooping her up by her waist into a crushing hug. “That should be perfect—and if it isn’t, we’ll just have to make do.”

Once you placed her back down, you found yourself sniffing in her direction, realizing that her scent slightly mirrored the weight of her efforts, and you told her as much.

“Gods, Ayra. Bathe. And take your sister with you,” your Mistress said, scrunching her nose even though she was too far away to smell the girl. “Dunk into the lake behind the treeline with soap and haste! You have eight minutes. Ayra, coil your sister’s curls with pomade and let her do braids in your hair once you’re finished with hers. I’ll arrange the crows' food and double-check the children’s work.”

With that she turned on the balls of her feet, leaving the two of you alone under the bright glow of the moon. Ayra sprinted behind her into the home, coming back to you with supplies in hand. She cradled a wooden pail filled with a boar's hair bristle brush, soap, cloth for cleansing and drying, two beautifully detailed kimonos, and a small chest that housed all the tools and accessories for your hair balanced on top. You reached for the items as she walked up by your side, but the younger girl refused, shaking her head softly before she started walking down the stone path.

“Hey,” you whispered, leaning in close to her ear, “let’s use the stream on the west bank. The water is so much warmer there at this time of night you know, and it’s closer,” you said, placing your hand gently on her back to guide her down the warmly lit pathway.

Ayra chuckled, her mischievous smile coming back full force due to your words. “I thought the Mistress said we had to bathe behind the treeline, sister. What should happen if a demon were to see us? Or, worse, a man—or two?” she teased, feigning horror—much to your humor. “Our propriety would be ruined if we were seen in the nude. What would dear mother Miya say?”

You rolled your eyes, continuing down the path lined with large coniferous trees that kissed the clouds in the sky. “Wisteria lives abundantly in these woods and along the water’s shores, and bushels of the stuff steep the water’s whole body. So, there are no demons out here to spy on us."

“And the men?” Ayra smirked, holding on to you tighter.

“Should the hashira come from the west, then I suppose they’ll get an intimate peek into our preparations for their visit. But, of course, what the Mistress doesn’t know in detail won’t hurt her.”

“Oh really?” Ayra chuckled, shoving you gently with her shoulder. “I suppose that’s true. I suppose it is better that she not find out just how much of a salacious trollop her second in command is. For shame, dear sister—her heart couldn’t take the knowledge of all your “tending” to our frontline soldiers.”

You shoved Ayra back, taking the wash pail from her before skipping a few steps down the pathway. “Boo. You make me sound like a whore. I only entertain the soldiers I see fit, not just any old mizunoto who thinks himself to be a hero simply by existing and holding a sword,” you said, tilting your head back to look at her. “We are a rejuvenation home, not a brothel.”

Ayra grinned, skipping to catch up and stand by your side. “Yes, yes, my apologies. I did not mean to insinuate anything of the sort, sister. Besides, if I were to call you a whore, I would be pointing one finger only to have the rest pointing back at me. I’m still too sore to retake a man after that hinoe-rank,” she smirked. “I didn’t know men from the city could be so… hung.”

You smacked her arm, laughing off the ridiculousness of your conversation. “Gods, you’re so crude. Who’ll marry you with that mouth?”

“The same type of person who’ll marry you with yours.”

The sound of your laughs echoed through the dense trees for a while as you neared the edge of the forest—the chirps and caws that resounded alongside them were clear indications of the animals lurking around you.

“You don’t think Mistress would actually be mad if she knew what we get up to, right?” Ayra said, glancing over at you. “With the slayers, I mean.”

You hummed in contemplation, though the answer came to mind quickly. “Frankly, no, not really. I’m sure she’s heard some murmurs about our occasional activities by now, and we aren’t exactly the most subtle about it. The Mistress is a lot of things, but being clueless is not one of them. If she had a problem with either of us having fun with the men, you know she would’ve said something about it by now.”

Ayra nodded, sighing deeply as you continued down the wooded path. Although to be fair, your Mistress had never genuinely seemed concerned for your purity. She nagged, and fussed, and sang her woes often about the lack of a permanent male fixture in the home and her hopes and dreams for her girls, but neither of you truly aspired to be docile, submissive, untouched wives, and despite her hopes for you all, she seemed aware of that fact. Still, despite her goals for all of you to be given away eventually, she never took on requests from your guests that demanded any of her girls perform sex for any man, primarily when their requests targeted the youngest of your home.

She’d worked hard for many years to provide you with an environment where you could embrace the fun of your youth without having to play ‘oiran’ like the less fortunate girls did in the cities. She gave you a space to enjoy the small moments of passion and joy that life offered amid all the chaos beyond your wisteria-filled trees. You had a secure—good—home and family that filled your hearts to the brim. In the times at hand, that was all you could hope for.

“Fair point, harlot,” Ayra said, blowing raspberries at you before taking off in a sprint. “The last one to the lake has to clean the baths tomorrow.”

Your protests rang through the night air as you picked up your pace, holding the wooden bucket tight to your chest as you skipped to catch up with Ayra. You met her at her side as you reached the end of the path, skidding to a halt once you cleared the lining of the trees and looked out at the vast lake before you. The lake’s noise met your ears as the steady tide rolled on, lit well by the shining full moon peeking over the backdrop of tall winding mountains and the scattered lanterns glowing along the water bank.

Neither of you dawdled then; you undressed from your garments quickly as you walked down to the lake’s edge—laying your kimonos down neatly on the dry rocks away from the calm waters.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing this,” you said, looking up at the full moon in the sky. Nude and warm from the late-summer air blowing against your bare skin.

Ayra hummed, reaching out her hand to grab hold of yours as you waded into the calm waters—going deeper into the lake until the water wrapped around your hips. Ayra was taller, but she stayed near you in the shallower end to keep you from slipping on the smooth rocks beneath your feet. You kept your hold on her hand as you dunked your body beneath the surface, dousing your skin and hair in the lukewarm stream. Ayra did the same, not letting go of your hand for a moment as she laid herself backward to soak.

“This is lovely, sister,” Ayra said, closing her eyes as her body floated on the surface. “We should come out and swim more often. During the day next time, maybe? It’s beautiful here.”

You chuckled, splashing water in her direction, which caused the brunette to shoot up onto her feet in surprise. “Mistress is more patient than she lets on, but she would hang both of our heads out as snacks for the demons if she found us nude in the daylight—for any lowly passing merchant or coal miner to see.”

Ayra scoffed, splashing water back at you and landing a big smack against your face with the waves. “Okay, you make a fair point. Now hush up and bathe,” she grinned, rolling her eyes as she walked you back into the shallower end.

She reached up to the layers of rock where you left your bathing items stacked around the lake and grabbed a small bottle from the open chest that housed your hair products.

“Here you go,” she said, squeezing some of the cleansing funori mixture into her hands before handing it over to you.

You both quickly scrubbed your scalps, pulling apart any knots you felt tangling around your coily strands, while Ayra did much of the same—running her fingers and a wide-toothed tokigushi comb through her lengthy, thick, wavy locks.

“How much longer do we have?” you asked, joining hands with your friend again as you shuffled back into the deeper section of the water. You plugged your nose, dunked your head beneath the surface to rid your hair of the cleansing balm, and came back up with a small gasp.

“Not long,” Ayra said, swapping out the cleansing balm for some soap.

She gave you a towel and the bar made from milk fat and rice bran to cleanse with while she turned your back to face hers. She tilted your head slightly to ring out the excess water in your hair while you scrubbed your skin, scrunching the curls from the bottom to solidify the shape. She rubbed some pomade into her palms and raked her hands through it, twisting the messy small sections with her fingers to define the strands.

You closed your eyes and leaned into her hands, pressed against your scalp to prevent pain from her tugging. Though she’d done your hair a million times, she always ensured that the process was painless for you. Her years of practice with your locks showed, since she finished your hair in less than three minutes. She scrunched again with her slightly sticky hands, then clapped down on your shoulders.

“Gross,” you giggled, scrubbing where her hands had touched before rinsing the soap mixture. You tossed the towel you used away into the wooden bucket nearby, then repeated the same process with Ayra. The tall, tanned girl squatted to accommodate your height, her muscular thighs and long limbs sliding into the position easily.

In comparison, doing her hair took no time at all; your hands were practiced too—not only from doing Ayra’s hair but also from helping the younger girls with their myriad of different hair textures. First, your fingers moved quickly to form two thick braids that met in the middle of the back of her head, laying down flat against the loose bottom section of her dark—nearly black—hair. Next, you lifted her hair from underneath to allow the girl easy access to her own back, not wanting to get the soap into it as she rinsed.

“You’d make a great mother one day,” Ayra whispered, the words nearly lost over the sound of the water.

You chuckled, cupping water in your hand to rinse the stray suds off her torso's slightly fuzzy expanse. “Gods. Between you and the girls and Mistress? Please. You all keep me busy enough!” you said, softly smacking her back. “Copulation is fun, very much so, but I have no intentions of being anyone’s mother soon. I have you all. My heart’s full enough.”

Ayra grinned, turning to face you again now that she had thoroughly cleaned the soap. “Fair point. Copulation with no consequences it is,” she said, holding her hand in the air as if she were holding a glass to cheers.

You rolled your eyes but mimicked the c-shape of her hand anyway. “Hear-hear!” you said, smacking your hand against your friend’s.

Ayra threw her soiled towel into the bucket with yours, then grabbed your hand again to pull you both out of the water. You jogged up over the bank of the lake back onto dry land, beelining over to your clean clothes and dry towels that were safe and untouched by the water.

“I got the white kimono for you and a black one for me,” Arya said, giving you a dry cloth to pat down your body as she smoothed the clothing. “We can at least attempt to make you look the part of virginal innocence. Men as strong as they tend to have quite the thing for dominance.”

You rolled your eyes at the young woman, smacking her backside with the towel. “Hurry and dry so we can get dressed. The wind is starting to bite and the smell of the food is starting to entice my stomach.”

Ayra heeded your words, quickly drying her skin and slipping into her own kimono with ease. She took a small jar out from the little chest she’d brought and waltzed over to you, looking down at you as she dipped her finger into the pot.

“Don’t forget this,” she said, running her lithe finger down the line of your neck, leaving a light trail of scented wisteria oil on your skin as her hand moved downward; across your collarbones, down the line of your armpits, and around the swell of your breasts. “There,” she said, eyeing her handiwork. “Now, if you decide to play with the hashira—should they be handsome and worthy of you—they’ll be just as intoxicated by your scent as they will be by your beauty.”

The warmth of a blush bloomed beneath your skin, goosebumps rising on your arms as you slipped into your kimono.

You grinned, pulling your friend into a tight hug. “You flatter me, Ayra,” you muttered against her chest. “Are you sure you don’t want to engage? What if the rumors are true about that Tengen? Do you not wish to see how he managed to woo three wives?”

Ayra sucked her teeth, scrunching her face in contemplation before she shook her head, pulling away from you as a quick “no” rushed from her lips.

“And why not?” you scoffed, looking at the admitted harlot in surprise.

“Well… because there’s one more little rumor I’ve heard about him that I dared not mention in front of Mistress… and a rumor about his dear comrade Rengoku.”

You stared her down as you tied the large sash belt on your outfit into a bow—cinching in your waist and giving the look of definition in the shape of your hips.

“And what might that be?”

“Well,” she whispered, leaning in close to your ear despite no one around you besides the squirrels in the trees. “I hear they’re both huge men, in both height and in length, so the rumors say. Even more so than that hinoe fellow, who I fear may have ruined my insides.”

Your mouth fell slack, gaping as you blinked incredulously at your housemate. “What?”

She laughed, waving her hand in the air as if it could dissipate your worries. “Oh, don’t fret dear sister, you’ll do well. I’ll be there in spirit, living vicariously through you. You’ve taken more than one man before, have you not?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts! It will be fun, and you will live to tell the tale. Besides, rumors passed through grapevine after grapevine are almost always exaggerated. The girl at the fruit stall couldn’t possibly have meant ‘cocks like horses’ literally.”

“Ayra!”

The girl ignored you, giggling to herself as she gathered your things, rushing you along to start your trek back up to the main home.

You bent down to grab your wooden pale off of the rocks, and a ping of something rang in your heart that made the muscle’s pace quicken. You turned, squinting your eyes as you looked out past the water, and up into the mountains. The cloud cover was low, and the mountains were tall and sturdy, nearly touching the sky. Still, there in the distance were the faintest dots of yellow and pink, shining as they reflected the light from the moon.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Ayra yelled, distracting you. “I hear the crows cawing. Their masters are close. We need to be there to welcome them.”

You nodded, turning your head quickly to look up at the mountains again, but there was nothing. As quickly as you thought you’d seen something, it was gone.

Ayra groaned, complaining about the heavy weight of the items balanced in her hands. You sighed—exhaling the breath trapped in your lungs as you turned slowly away from the lake, shaking away the thought of those intense blurs of color that glared predatorily at you from off in the distance. You grabbed hands with your friend, dashing back down the path through the trees again with smiles on your faces as you went to welcome the two men—the two pillars of hope for your futures—into your home.

tyty for reading! see you in the next one || crossposted on ao3 — here || taglist — here || tags: @bokuroskitten​ @rosesandtoshi @murdereddaydreams​ @crystal-lilac​ @mxgenderbender​

[artemiseamoon]

My baby, my love, one of my personal favs

Wisteria & Moonlight

An Arte original* fic stared on here, continuing on A03

Summary: Ajani’s hunt to locate her missing brother leads her to a wolfs den.

A03 link

Status: COMPLETE

Tumblr links acting funny, just read on A03🌟

Exclusive for The Moon in May challenge

⚠️ overall warnings: Wolf stuff, violence, sexual themes & content, missing person

* this is a 4 week challenge, however, the fic is 6 chapters. I adjusted the posting timeline accordingly. Two of the weeks will have 2 chapters posted. 

Chapters

Read whole story on A03

Chapter 1: Following the tracks

Chapter 2: Howl

Chapter 3: Unearthed pt 1

Chapter 4: Unearthed pt 2

Keep reading

[ladyxskywalker]

MAY 2022 (part two)

fandoms featured on this list; triple frontier, pedro pascal, misc. multi fandom

thank you to the amazing fic writers for sharing some wonderful stories with all of us ! & to the kind readers for their support. 💙

please assume that all works & the blogs they belong to are 18+ only

mature adult content will be marked with a double asterisk **

be sure to check all warnings & tags before reading, feel free to skip if something isn't for you

& of course, enjoy responsibly

all the love xo A ☕

please send me things to read ! favorite fics or something you've written that you're proud of ! 💌

find more monthly fic recs over on my masterlist, June 2022 coming soon ! ✨

please let me know if you would like to be removed

✨ new authors & characters added for the first time !

✨ some authors are mentioned more than once throughout the list, check to see if your works are there !

TRIPLE FRONTIER

✨ Benny Miller

Summer Rain by @skvatnavle

Sunburnt by @lore-craft (f!reader) **

Waxing Moon by @hopeamarsu (werewolf au) (f!reader) **

When Love Is True It Waits, & Oh, The Love I’ve Found by @skvatnavle

✨ Frankie Morales

Bond (series) by @clydesducktape (a/b/o au) (werewolf au) (f!reader) **

Heart Shaped by @forever-rogue (f!reader)

The Party by @juletheghoul (f!reader) (cw: infidelity) **

✨ Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller

A Lighthouse in the Dark (series) by @artemiseamoon (ofc) **

Wisteria & Moonlight (series) by @artemiseamoon (werewolf au) (black!ofc) **

Without You by @lore-craft (gn!reader) **

PEDRO PASCAL

✨ Ezra (Prospect)

In the Dark (series) by @frannyzooey (f!reader) **

Love on the Green by @artemiseamoon (botanist!ofc)

Slick, Sweet Tooth (series) by @ezrasbirdie (dentist au) (f!reader) **

Starman (series) by @imtryingmybeskar (f!reader) **

✨ Jack ‘Agent Whiskey’ Daniels

Leaving On A Jet Plane by @writeforfandoms (f!reader)

Tangled Up (series) by @writeforfandoms (dragon rancher au)

✨ Javi Gutierrez

Chase the Sunset by @hopeamarsu (gn!reader)

Lavender's Blue by @writeforfandoms (cinderella au) (f!reader)

When You Were Mine (series) by @ezrasbirdie (f!reader) **

✨ Marcus Pike

New Moon, Chance Encounter by @hopeamrsu (a/b/o au) (f!reader)

prompt – marcus comforting you during a time of depression (cw:depression) by @ezrasbirdie

✨ Oberyn Martell

First Taste by @the-blind-assassin-12 (f!reader)

Happenstance by @absurdthirst (f!reader) **

In Bloom by @ezrasbirdie (cw:pregnancy, sex work) (f!reader) **

✨ Pedro Across the Street (Apple TV, Calls, not RPF)

Kiss and Tell: The First Date (GTTT PATS) by @oonajaeadira (f!reader) **

✨ Pero Tovar

As Loud As We Want by @flightlessangelwings (f!reader)

Feeling That I’m Under, Born to Be Wild (series) by @writeforfandoms (f!reader)

Innocence Need Not Tremble by @brandyllyn (f!reader) **

✨ The Thief (Casillero del Diablo)

I’m Beginning to See The Light by @writeforfandoms (soulmate au) (f!reader)

✨ Zach Wellison (Brothers & Sisters)

Unexpected Visitor, A Room With a View (series) by @absurdthirst (f!reader) **

MISC. MULTI FANDOM

✨ Alfred Pennyworth (The Batman)

Penny For Your Thoughts (series), Eaten Up by @eupheme (cw:age gap) (f!reader) **

✨ The Amazing Spider Man (Andrew Garfield)

When Jealousy Strikes by @flightlessangelwings (gn!reader)

✨ Benedict Bridgerton

Absence of Regret by @clints-lucky-arrow (f!reader) **

Comfort by @sxftmusings (f!reader)

When He Sees Me by @sxftmusings (f!reader)

✨ Clyde Logan

Existence (series) by @clydesducktape (mintaur!clyde) (gorgon!reader) (mythical au)

✨ Frank Castle (The Punisher)

prompt – ‘can we please stop running? I think I’m dying’ by @lordabovehelpme (gn!reader) **

prompt – menstruation by @lordabovehelpme (f!reader)

✨ Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

Pressure by @floraandfrost (f!reader) **

✨ King Arthur (Charlie Hunnam)

Heart Set In Stone (series) by @velocibeewords (f!reader) **

✨ Shang-Chi (Marvel)

So, You Had A Bad Day? by @budcooper (gn!reader)

✨ Takeshi Kovacs (Altered Carbon)

Kill Me Slow With Every Kiss by @loverhymeswith (f!reader)

** be sure to check out part one for more fic recs from star wars, rogue one, the mandalorian, & moon knight 📖

[sashi-ya]

SASHI! Can I request for your event the prompt of Law being in jail? please!? NSFW and can you please make it with two Fem readers and since you are good with demons, can they be demons? THANK U!! 💗

Excuse me, anon... what is this request? a double demon request? Well of course, please enjoy this sinful fic for you! I created both demons differently. One is sweet and more like a sub, the other is a dom and sadist. Thank u for asking for this sweet request, I enjoyed it a lot! 💗~

~ 🌸 Cherry Blossoms Over Wano Event 🌸 ~

⚠ Nsfw~ Trafalgar Law x Demons! F! Reader ~ That's Trafalgar Law, The New Prisoner

tw: this shit ain't soft. Canon divergence, ep 951 (Law in Wano jail beaten by Hawkins). 3 way: FFM. DARK NSFW. Blood play. Demons call each other "sisters", demons are NOT human, so it's up to you if you want them to be real sisters or just creatures with no morals and no notion of incest. Impregnation. Law is a sub, used for his seed.

wc: 2.6K

a/n: I have another request with this prompt which is SFW that I received after this one, surely will write that one too!

Like this event? masterlist 🌸~

The smell of blood… ah, sinful, sweet, spell bounding. The smell of blood… fresh, like iron, oh so enticing.

Shadows moving in the night, the moonlight bathe their skins and they shine. They shine, but they aren’t like the Sun.

Wisterias hanging over each door of the Flower Capital, but not there. Not from where the scent of sweet vital fluid comes. They can enter freely there. Oh, of course they can.

The tinkling of the shackles around his wrists, the way he spits blood on the ground. “Look at him, sister… that's where the sweet smell was coming from.”

Like snakes, like cats perhaps, the creatures of the night crawl inside. Long hair, silver and black, like the moon and the dark.

He pants, he is in pain. The ink patterns on his caramel skin and the icy stare, a subtle smirk with confidence and pride. “He is not from here, isn’t he?” she asks, playing with her argentum hair. “Our pray, my sweet sister, is indeed not from here. That’s Trafalgar Law, the new prisoner”

The voodoo monk, long blond hair, Hawkins bids goodnight to the prisoner. “Trafalgar, you will spit the truth sooner or later, meanwhile have a pleasant stay” he spits, and kicks the poor black haired convict in his stomach.

But the man only smirks, and what a sexy smile.

Black nails, like claws, tingle on her hands. The black haired creature also smirks and gloats. Concupiscent, her body takes a human-like form. Her companion does the same, the embodiment of perfection and exhilaration.

Wano demons once in a while, need human seeds… Oh and that prisoner looks like a perfect candidate…

Slowly, they move inside the dark, humid cell. The scent of his blood invades the place, some tears and sweat maybe too. His hands tied to chains over his head. A head that loosely hangs and his eyes are closed. He is still panting a little, the kick has left him in pain.

Even if the demonic women hide in the void of darkness spots, where the moonshine is not able to reach, he is aware of them. And the man whose name is Trafalgar, slowly rises his head, fixing menacing cold eyes into the murky void in front of him.

“I can feel how your skin gets all bumpy…” the dark haired demon whispers next to his ear and licks the trail of dry blood on his right cheek. Law turns his head to the side, but he sees nothing. “Fufufu… don’t be scared!” another voice, a playful yet wicked one, now comes from his left.

The surgeon shivers, he can feel their presence, but he can’t see them. Sharp claws barely grazing his skin, sometimes he smells rotten and sometimes it smells like sex. Like the scent of naked bodies and the scent of pheromones, like the scent of pure lust, of pure sin and desire.

“Who are you?” he asks, with a trembling voice.

Oh poor thing.

“Who are we, sister?” one of them asks. “Well, haven’t you heard about the Wano demons, sweetie?” the other says.

“Do you want us to free you, pretty little thing?” the raven haired woman-like creature with little horns and fluffy clothes covering just her breasts and her legs, asks. But the prisoner does not answer, instead he scans her, up and down, scared but amazed.

“Hi… Trafalgar? Are you a pirate?” the silver haired demon asks; some scales cover her impious body. Horns and yellow eyes. Eyes that curiously travel all over his body. She crawls to him, on all fours, and yet she looks like a snake, serpentine movements to get to him.

Law flinches to the soft touch of the demon, his crossing legs are now over his belly. He is indeed really scared, forming a ball to protect his already beaten up body. “Oh, why don’t you let me touch you?” she asks. A sad expression on her face with a hint of sadism deep inside.

“You will let my sister touch you; do you understand?” the raven haired demon shouts, grabbing Law by his hair and pushing him against the metallic bars behind him. He grunts, and spits some more blood. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?.”

She perversely laughs, softly putting her foot over Law’s stomach. “We… want to make a deal” she says, opening the black kimono just enough to expose the surgeon’s crotch with her toes. “We will free you and protect you, as long as you are willing to give us your seed… you look like a good human to be served from”

Law stutters, he even coughs. Facade that slowly go from confused and scared, to a smirk twisted and perverse that could make anybody tremble.

“I’ll take that as a YES, then. Sister, come here” the black haired demon, the tallest and probably stronger of the two of them commands the other. Slowly, the yellow eyed demon crawls closer to him, and starts smelling him. Desperately inhaling the sweet scent of blood strings that run like thin rivers over his inked skin, so delicious, so tempting…

The tip of her tongue tastes the acrid flavour of Law’s cruor. “More!” she expresses, so excited while her sister brushes her hair, still with one of her feet over Law’s warm crotch. “Wha- more?” Law asks, panicking, making the sweet silver haired demon to rest over her knees, pouting. “I want more, I want more!” she insists.

“Then bite him, sis” the dominant demon says, grabbing her by her hair and pushing her against Law’s neck. “Come on, feed on him.”

Law squirms, trying to stop her, but the dark haired demon fixes her eyes on him. Dark matter flows from them, like tears, staining her cheeks. “You are gonna make my little sister cry like me, you know that?” she says, menacing, threatening, paralyzing him. He knows too well he has no power to beat them, not now.

Sharp fangs bite the caramel skin of the prisoner, enough to make him bleed. She sucks, eager, thirsty. And won’t stop unless her sister tells her to do so, and for that she still grabs her by her hair. “Keep going, darling. Feed well on him, not always we get such quality of a man.”

She begins to feel how Law’s sex becomes harder and wetter, and she relishes at it. "Aroused already, huh?".

The dark demon uses her sharp claws to cut through the clothes of the other and herself, and then lifts her sister from her hair. "Let me taste him" she says.

Law widens his eyes, scared and sure he will get the other side of his neck bitten. But he is wrong, and the grunts that escaped his throat show how much frustration he feels to get extremely horny by the images of the demon kissing each other, swapping his blood, playing with their tongues.

Drops of red substance run through the commissures of both mouths, lustful, degenerate, staining their breasts. And from the breasts to their bellies.

Law pants, annoyed and aroused. Fighting against his own moral boundaries, breaking them all when he realizes how hard he has become. How much he wants to be untied, mind becoming darker and darker, his libido asking to touch them, to fuck them, to share the blood with him.

“Have you been poisoned before?” the dark haired demon asks, cleaning her mouth with the back of her forearm, while the silver haired one licks the remaining drops of blood off her chest. Law is unable to understand how she noticed, and simply nods. He breathes with difficulty, the pirate looks like a feral beast, chained, but willingly to be untied to attack.

As the sweet demon kneels next to Law, ready to assault his neck once again, the dominant one kicks Law’s legs to spread them. She scans the wetness and the arousal on the man’s underwear, gloating at the show of neediness.

“Look sis, wanna bite the inside of his thighs? They look so tasty” she says, pointing at her demon sister the soft, tempting, tanned inside of Law’s legs. Her sister pounces over Law, ready to bite, kiss, lick Law’s flesh and as he does, her ass faces his countenance.

Spread, wet and sticky, presented to Law like a delicious plate of his favourite food. Tempting, smelling exquisite, luring Law into a deathly oral trap. “Eat her out, you want that, don’t you?” the raven haired demon orders, smirking, aroused by the trembling lips of the doctor.

And as he grunts, in pain by the fangs leaving marks on his thighs, his head buries into the demon’s sex. He rejoices with the profane elixir of the demon’s wetness, devouring her entirely. The sound of the shackles resonating all around, the sound of the shackles and the pants because he is so into eating her that he forgets to breathe.

And she moans, and her claws cut the fabric of his underwear exposing his hard, throbbing member. The sharpness of her fangs graze dangerously his shaft, up and down, but at this point the man does not care. He is willingly up to be hurt, to be bitten, to be bled out.

The demon pushes her sex onto his mouth, as she whines and grunts, enjoying the taking over pleasure of a climax that makes her absolutely happy. “Ah thank you!”

“That’s enough food for you, human” the dominant demon says, taking his head out of the sex of her sister by pulling his hair. “We want your seed inside me, not a single drop will be wasted from you.”

Law looks at her, glossy eyes, shiny chin, lips barely open, breathing hard, closing his left eye as the excitement has made the cut over his brow bone to open again and bleed out. She crunches at his side and cleans his eye with her black sharp nail.

“See I can’t stop tasting your blood, it’s so addicting. You must be from the D. clan, aren’t you?” she says, so sure he is, the blood of them not only tastes sweet but produces on her tongue a special tingling and burn sensation like the sun does on her skin.

Law is even more amazed by the accuracy of the demons in knowing him, and even if he would love to discuss it, he needs more. He is about to burst, and his dick begs for release while the cute demon keeps licking the squirting drops of precum off him.

His belly spasms, he knows he must contain as much as he can. The deal was to give them his seed, and that’s what he is gonna do for the sake of his crew and himself.

And for his body, too.

"Dear sister, could you please allow me to fuck the human?" The dark demon asks her companion, lovingly grazing her cheek, commanding sweetly for her to move.

And she does, allowing Law’s dick to be free to jump over it.

The demon straddles her hips over him, her wetness makes the humping slippery. She grazes her sex against his, even feeling the pulsating feeling of the blood pumping on his dick’s vessels. Her long nails carved on the inked chest of the man, as she goes back and forth, enjoying the face of pure rapture Law has.

"I wanna fuck you" Law whines, bucking his hips up for the tip of his dick to slip inside her. He begs and moans, almost crying because his hands are still tied and he can't touch her.

"Let's go sweet human, won't torture you any longer" she laughs, and guides the squirting sex inside her wet cave.

Up and down she goes, jumping on his manhood. She squeezes his cheeks to make him look directly into her black matter crying eyes. "Look at me" she commands, and then smiles at her sweet sister resting over Law’s chest, drinking the remaining blood from her nails.

"Fill me up" she growls, as she goes faster.

Law can only moan, whine, pant, and grunt, he is not able to think straight and the only thing he needs now is to be freed. He wants to squeeze the demon’s breasts; he wants to touch the other demon too.

“Release me from my shackles” he begs, tears in his eyes mixing with the blood sprouting from his brow bone. “You wanna feed the demons inside you, Trafalgar? Let’s create darkness, then” she moans, and uses her strong hands to break the chains that held his arms up.

The DEATH tattooed hands of the doctor fall at each side like made out of heavy lead. The poor man has been enduring the pain and the discomfort of having his arms up the whole day, yet he desperately looks for touching, for squeezing, for feeling.

“Come on, good boy! Fill me up, fill me really good” she encourages Law, while he goes deep deep inside her. He grimaces, he is about to burst, but also hates himself for succumbing to such dirty and profane request. And he didn’t even stutter, he could say it was to protect their crew… but was it really?

He feels rapidly falling into a spiral of pure perversion, the need to impregnate the demon has crawled inside his mind and now that’s what he is gonna do. His hands pull from some silver strands of hair of the sweet demon who keeps caressing his face, giving him sweet kisses, like a clinging pet to him resting over his chest while he gets ridden.

“Nghh” he grunts, not really sure if he should do this but doing it anyway. He explodes, and the clenching walls of the demon trap every single drop of his warm release, throwing her head back, grunting, fulfilled, smirking, crying, and laughing.

Law sweats, feeling how his twitching member is milked to the last drop by that blasphemous creature. His head falls to the side as the demon over him keeps moving a little more until she is completely satisfied and the other wipes tears from his eyes. “Good boy, you have helped my sister” she says, playing with the golden hoops of his ears while he rests on her chest.

“Human, you will be rewarded… now…

… Wake up”

“What the fuck?” he wakes up all of a sudden, sweating. The cell around him is still there, and the sun is barely poking out in the horizon. His hands still have the kairoseki shackles around his wrists, and he feels exhausted.

A sticky feeling between his legs, a subtle stain under his kimono on his crotch.

“Was it all a dream? And … my… How old am I? Twelve?” he asks himself, annoyed discovering it was all a wet dream. He feels humiliated and broken, but also amazed by his mind. “Fucking two demons? What the hell is wrong with me?” he asks himself, crossing his legs not to feel aroused one more time after the dream.

He tries to hide his mortifying stains when a well-known person walks through the door…

“Oi, Trafalgar… It’s time, let me untie you. Hawkins will be here in no minute”

“Thanks, man” Law thanks X-Drake, his supernova ally.

While Drake opens the shackles, playful laughs could be heard… laughter so similar to the demons of his dream.

“Drake-ya, are there any women in this jail?” “No, why?”

“Oh… it’s nothing” he said, looking at a dark spot, swearing he could see the demons blinking and blowing a kiss at him… ❤~

[ahundredtimesover]

February 2021 Reads

Happy Love Month! All my February reads of JK fics are listed below. Please note the angst, fluff, and smut descriptions and much love to the authors (reblog, comment!) and to our blue-haired lil bun jk 🐰 

Timbs pt1 + pt2 by @rightsockjin (s) - best friends au (read if you want great build up and smut)

Coffee & cream by @yoontopia (a, f, s) - fwb au (read if you want something funny and a pretty chill read)

Please love me pt1, pt2, pt3 by me (a, f, s) - arranged marriage au, childhood friends au, ceo kids (read if you want some pain and fluff and angst in between)

Into the forest by @taehyungssss (s) - fantasy au, fae au, royalty au (read if you want a story on forbidden love and a mysterious yet courteous jk)

By your side by @euphoriara (f) - s2l, rich kid jk, bodyguard reader (read if you want a mix of action and fluff and cute OC and jk)

Shooting flowers by @monoguk (s) - boyfriend au (read if you want filthy and hot lovemaking)

Rough hands by @bratkook (s) - e2l, fuckboy jk (read if you want really good sexual tension and smut and fun side characters)

Wine and cheese nights by @mimithings97 (f, s) - boyfriend au (read if you want hot and sensual lovemaking)

Breakfast in bed by @wommied (f, s) - fiancé jk (read if you want fun banter and domestic fluff and smut)

Sucker punch by @satanssmuts (a, s) - boxer jk, therapist/patient au (read if you want some angst of bad boy jk and feisty OC with some hot sexual tension and smut)

Not so honest by @parkmuse (s) - roommates au, childhood friends au (read if you want fun banter and something so funny and so hot and whipped jk)

Trust issues by @7deadlysinsfics (s) - bar au (read if you want a quick read of sexual tension and smut with a dash of fluff)

Splinter by @jungblue (a, s) - college au, exes au (read if you want a well-written and painfully beautiful fic that will make you think about relationships and growing up)

Queen of broken hearts pt1, pt2, pt3 by @bratkook (a, s) - sort of fwb au (read if you want angst due to whipped but in pain jk and if you want to feel pain and anger)

Orange tulips by @kainks (a, f, s) - soulmates au, reincarnation au (read if you want a well-written, painfully beautiful and tragic love story, and if you maybe want to cry)

Smitten by @megahwn (f, s) - arranged marriage au (read if you want a soft and fluffy falling-in-love story)

The suspenders + The criminal by @kpopfanfictrash (humor) - detectives au, b99 au (read if you want a quick, fun, and hilarious read)

Wintervale by @fantasybangtan (s) - royalty au, fantasy au (read if you want something sooo hot)

The sea & the storm by @jamaisjoons (f, s) - fantasy au (read if you want a well-written, fantastical, and soft and hot story)

Mark me + Scent me by @guksthighs (s) - werewolf au, boyfriend au (read if you want really good smut)

Headspace by @whatifyoulivelikethat (s) - workmates au (read if you want some good smut)

The view by @koyamuses (s) - lovers au (read if you want sexy time in the tub and hot lovemaking)

Dotti by @jungcock (f, s) - workmates au (read if you want really good smut, shy jk but would still ruin you, and something actually quite soft)

Heated by @whatifyoulivelikethat (f, s) - childhood friends au, best friends au (read if you want to laugh bc of their banter, enjoy a fun relationship and dynamics, and be turned on with really good smut)

Take a sip by @ve1vetyoongi (f, s) - rich reader, server jk (read if you want fun sexual tension and hot smut)

Moonlight by @yeoldontknow (a, f) - soulmates au, childhood friends au (read if you want well-written angst with good ending)

Black market baked goods by @chaangbin (f, s) - boyfriend au (read if you want something cute and funny with good smut)

Heavy machinery by @chaangbin (s) - strangers au (read if you want something quick with good smut and hot construction worker jk)

2:15am + Nothing good happens after 2am by @whatsthedistancebetweenus (a) - idol jk (read if you want a quick read of angst)

A promise of freedom drabble + oneshot by @jimlingss (a) - war au, officer jk (read if you want something so beautifully painful and well-written angst and really compelling characters)

Pining 101 drabble series (with update) by @guklvr (f) - hospital au, doctors au (read if you just want to smile and have your day be made with adorable characters)

A home found in you by @lovmail (f) - strangers au, dad jk (read if you want small town softness, adorable single dad jk, and good storytelling)

Claws of carnality by @jjungkooksthighs (ongoing) (s) - werewolf au, fantasy au, alpha jk (read if you want good world-building, hot and mysterious jk, great sexual tension and smut)

It could be worse by @tae-cup (a, f) - e2l, roommates au (read if you want well-written but not too heartbreaking angst)

Enouement by @littlemisskookie (a, s) - war au, Mulan au (read if you want a well-written adaption of Mulan and really good smut with good ending ft. Ot6)

A piece of the moonlight by @jiimlingss (a) - war au, Mulan au (read if you want really good Mulan au story with a twist, something so well-written and painfully beautiful)

Tattoos and tutus pt1 + pt2 by @fresh-outta-jams (a, f) - dad jk (read if you want bike-riding, tattoo artist and shy and adorable dad jk)

The art of wanting by @venusiangguk (s) - dad jk (read if you want really hot dad jk and good sexual tension and delicious smut)

Dilf jk drabble series by @himbojk (f, s) - parents au, dad jk (read if you want simple, funny, sexy, cute family moments and hot and adorable dad jk)

Too young pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5 by @jeonggukookies (ongoing) (a, f) - dad jk (read if you want good characters and dramaaa and a really good read)

Isn’t she lovely + Milkshake man by @jungnoir (f) - parents au, dad jk (read if you want super soft and heartwarming family moments and adorable dad jk)

Teasing by @letspurpletogether (s) - college au (read if you want shy jk and good smut)

Playing with fire by @floralseokjin (a, s) - (read if you want something really hot and delicious smut)

Daddy day care pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4 by @yoonjinkooked (f) - dad jk (read if you want rom-com type fic, really fun main and side characters, and a good story about parenting and growing up)

Happy birthday Baby by @writemywaytoyourheart (f) - parents au, dad jk (read if you want family fluff and emotional and beautiful dad jk)

Too close by @cutechim (a, f, s) - parents au, dad jk, gang au, boxer jk (read if you want well-written, movie type fic with great angst, smut, and fluffy family moments)

Nice guys by @kookiesbadhabits (s) - college au (read if you want nervous jk and good smut)

Since day one + Morning after by @joonsgalore (f, s) - best friends au, werewolf au, tattoo artist au, boxer jk, alpha jk (read if you want a well-written story, duality of jk, and really hot smut)

After dark by @seokoloqy (s) - royalty au, vampire au, fantasy au, knight jk (read if you want well-written story of hot vampire knight jk)

Corrupt by @bratkook (s) - vampire au, fantasy au (read if you want hot smut with vampire jk)

Sate by @adonis-koo (s) - royalty au, vampire au, fantasy au (read if you want well-written character of vampire prince jk and good sexual tension and smut)

Twenty-four by @deerguk (f) - parents au, dad jk (read if you want good family fluff)

Starry eyes by @gguksgalaxy (f) - best friend au (read if you want a warm hug and soft blankets in jk form)

Hearts like paper by @btsracket (a, s) - strangers au (read if you want something so real, very well-written and painfully beautiful story that hurts so much but is so good and a must-read)

Crush on you by @high-on-food (a, f) - best friends au (read if you want well-written humor, build-up, a dash of angst and a cute and fluffy ending)

Swipe right by @ppersonna (a, f, s) - best friends au, gamer jk (read if you want sweet best friend and boyfriend jk with fun side characters and hot smut)

Cabin fever by @jeongi (a, s) - best friends au (read if you want well-written story with tension, dash of angst, and hot smut)

Lilac wisteria by @blushoseoks (f) - best friends au, childhood friends au (read if you want something soft and well-written with sweet best friend jk and cute moments)

Electric by @moonlightchildz (s) - sort of fwb au (read if you want something self-indulgent bc of the hot smut)

(monthly reads masterpost)

[arte-is-now-reading]

A03 news for those following the wips there. Strike through means it’s been updated.

Ao3: Artemiseamoon | UPDATED AUGUST 2022 SCHEDULE

Monday, early evening 7/8 - Flirting with Danger

This week - preview of As Night Calls

Wednesday, 7/16- A lighthouse in the dark

Saturday 7/20 - Milk & honey

Sunday 7/14 - Damage Control

Saturday 7/27- Wisteria & Moonlight

Monday 7/30 - Navigating the dark

(Posted this on my reading account 🤦🏾‍♀️ multiple blogs gets confusing)

Various Moodboards for the above fics

Damage control

Navigating the dark

Milk & Honey

Flirting with danger

Wisteria & moonlight

A lighthouse in the dark

[mitsungo]

Oh lord help me.

I was just imagining things in my head, when suddenly, I had an urge to write a part two of the first fic I wrote. So, here we are. Except, Akaza is here now.

☆*:.｡. o❄️o .｡.:*☆

It had been over a week since Akaza had killed the flame hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku. Though he succeeded in killing the hashira, his master was deeply, upset with him for not finding anything about the flower that he was sent to search for. It frustrated Akaza that he had failed his mission in someway. As he recalled his battle with Kyojuro, he remembered that he had seen a photo fall out of the hashira’s pocket. Akaza wasn’t able to see much of it, but he did see a glimpse of a woman. He also remembered that as he ran away from the sun, the weakling that had called him a coward say that he had taken Kyojuro from his fiancée.

“So you were going to get married huh?” He quietly spoke to himself in the middle of a forest. Akaza snickered at the thought of Kyojuro’s fiancée hearing the news of her future husband’s death. “If only he had become a demon then he wouldn’t have died. Though I doubt he would control himself from devouring you.” Akaza said, he shut his eyes and pondered wether or not to go and find this fiancée of the man he killed. He was curious about the woman Kyojuro was going to marry for some reason. Sighing, Akaza stood up, finally making his decision. He was going to find that woman, just to satisfy his curiosity.

He didn’t really have much of a lead at first, but as he remembered certain parts of the fight, some of the memories of that night helped him start off with something. There was a certain piece of cloth that Kyojuro clung onto during the fight, it was a beautiful piece too if he was honest, with two cranes, some flowers and a crest. That must have been the family crest of the girl’s family. Now, you may ask, how on earth is that even a clue? Well duh, it’s a crest, someone must know of it, he had to unfortunately go around in his spare time asking random strangers if they knew about the crest. And so far, no one he asked knew about it. Pity.

And so now it was two weeks since he had killed kyojuro, and still no fiancée. Akaza was ready to give up on the task of finding the girl, until he ran into a lowly demon that he happened to cross paths with frequently in a village.

“Oh yes! I know that crest! It belongs to a kimono shop in the village next over to this one! I don’t get so close to the shop itself since the place is littered with Wisteria and I hear the seamstress herself is an extremely talented young beautiful woman who recently lost her fiancé!” The demon said to Akaza. Akaza felt relief about the information for some weird reason. The demon continued, “I’m sure the house of the tailor has the crest on their home so it won’t be hard to find either!” “I see. Thank you. I’ll let you be now then.” And with that, Akaza made his way to where the demon had said.

When he arrived at the village, he decided to eat first before going to find the house of the tailor. Once he found his victim of the night, he asked them about the seamstress and if they knew where she lived. After they told him the information (barley), he proceeded to devour them. Akaza wiped his mouth and stretched, he grinned with delight and made his way to the house of the girl he had been searching for. He arrived at a mansion not far from the forest where he had just eaten, the mansion itself was fairly big and wisteria flowers were hanging from wooded fences at the front of mansion and the main door. Akaza decided to look around first before doing anything else, he made his way to the back of the house and saw that there was a woman standing in the garden of the home. She was breath taking for sure, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, this must be her. The fiancée of Rengoku Kyojuro. Did she know he was the one that killed him? Did they tell her? Guess he’d have to find out himself. He jumped on top of the fence and looked down at her. How come there wasn’t any wisteria flowers here? Akaza had finally made his presence known to the girl as she slowly looked his way, her eyes making contact with his own.

“Who might you be? Are you perhaps a demon? Have you come to eat me? If so, please do it quickly. I’d rather not keep my husband waiting for me in the afterlife.” She told him stoically. Akaza was taken back by her words. “I am not here to eat you. I do not eat women. I just,” he had to think of a good excuse. “…heard from some townsfolk over in the last village that you are an extraordinary talented seamstress. I wanted to see for myself.” The girl looked at him with a small gentle smile, she looked back to where she was looking and said nothing. A minute passed by and she finally spoke again, “I do not make kimonos anymore. I have given up that passion to instead drown myself in pain and tears. I am sorry to disappoint you, but you have come here for nothing.” “Is that so? Why may that be?” He asked, tilting his head. Here it comes. “I recently lost my husband to an illness and he dearly loved when I would craft kimonos. Since he died, I have not made a single kimono.” She smiled softly, her smile beaming like the moonlight. Liar. She lied. Kyojuro didn’t die from illness. “Really? How tragic. And what was his name if I may ask?” The girl hummed, pausing for a second. “Rengoku Kyojuro.” Akaza wanted to giggle at that moment, but he had to resist the urge to do so. Though the part of kyojuro dying from a sickness bothered him, he still felt joy. “What is your name demon?” The girl asked, her head tilting, as if she was mimicking the gesture he had just done a few minutes ago. “Akaza.” “L/n Y/n.” “That’s a beautiful name you have there Y/n.” She didn’t reply, her eyes fixated on his. He was starting to get uncomfortable by the look in her eyes, as if she could see right through him. “You are a tragic as I am. Please. Indulge me with small talk. To relief my pain.” Y/n softly said, walking over to where he was and stretching her hand out for him to take. Akaza felt a vain pop out from irritation. She really creeped him out. “Alright. I will then.” He replied, taking her tiny hand and jumping down from his spot. “Just so I can see you make those beautiful kimonos that they say you make.”

And so now, four weeks have passed since he had killed kyojuro and met Y/n. He had come to take a liking to y/n, she was gentle and patient. She would listen to Akaza and speak very little as she wasn’t a talker. He really enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his. He had also been able to convince her to start crafting kimonos again, he felt really happy when he would come over and she would be waiting for him, a kimono in her lap, ready to start working on it. Sometimes he would talk and she would do what she did, other times he would just watch in awe as she quickly finished detailed patterns and sceneries. Those were his favorite, when she would sew landscapes of winter or spring, they were just beautiful to look at once she was done. Another thing that had made their relationship closer, wait. Relationship? He didn’t want to admit it, but they had some relationship going on, perhaps on the surface it seemed like comfort for both of them, but the more he thought of it, they had both gotten intimate on the third day he visited. Akaza knew she was just sexually frustrated, who could blame her? So he just let it happen, he was also glad she acted as if those moments didn’t happen but he kinda wished she acted like they did. Still, he was happy to just be with her. No wonder kyojuro loved this woman so much, she was perfect in every way. As his visit was coming to and end, he bid Y/n goodnight and jumped on the fence of the mansion, turning to face her before he left. Y/n waved him goodbye though her eyes widened in shock, tears spilling from her eyes when his last words for the night slipped from his mouth,

“I’ll see you when I come back tomorrow! And then, you, y/n, can show me how to sew such beautiful details in those kimonos you make!”

[hieludoboi]

Hello! I just found your blog and it’s so cute! If your not too swarmed with requests could you write some mista x gem reader fluff?? I’m starving 😩😩.

 A/n- Fluffy Mista! This is not the kiss the girl fic, that was running way too long, it’s on its fifth draft, and third rewrite, so that’s gonna be for another time, hope yall enjoy this one though!

Pairing- Guido Mista/Female! Reader

Genre/type- Fluffy one shot

Summary- Mista doesn’t understand why you love to dawdle in gardens so much, but he’s okay with you playing with his hair under a wisteria tree, beneath a cloudy night sky

The garden seemed to be calling him, the scent of flowers lingering on his tongue, vivid imagery of veiny, soft, almost flesh like petals dancing on the cusp of his imagination. It had started off small, a little plot of poppies and tulips in the back of Giorno’s home before unfurling into a massive flower bed, full of pretty blues and calming purples, dotted with yellows and whites... Mista wondered if Giorno was trying to paint the night sky with flowers. 

In the middle of it all stood a beautiful wisteria, tall and grand, its branches weighed down by multiple flowers. On windy days, it almost seemed to be crying purple petals. It held a sweet scent, almost overbearing. Giorno had told him he kept the tree because of the symbolism. In Japan, they symbolized bliss, love, and tenderness. Mista, however, had never stopped to appreciate the garden. After all, Trish hid in the flowers to run from his ‘stench’. 

Yet, while Giorno’s house sat quietly, tucked away, Mista found himself lured into the garden. The smell of nectar and petals tantalizingly sweet against the pink of his tongue. The night was foggy, and while Mista could barely make out the different shapes, he could easily see the wisteria tree standing proud in the middle of it all. 

And so, he walked... Almost mindlessly towards the tree, his soul almost enamored by the presence of it. He wondered why now, of all times, he so desperately needed to see the tree. 

“Mista?” The voice was soft, a whisper against the leaves, gently grazing against his eardrums. And suddenly, it all made sense. His chest bubbling with warmth, he ran towards the tree, almost tripping on its roots before he could reach her.

“Y/n! It’s about time you showed up! I was getting bored chasing after other girls, y’know,” Mista teased, a goofy grin on his lips as he approached her. Like almost every night, she was draped in white silks, her skin glowing against the moonlight, a beam of light against the foggy night. 

“Right, like any woman could possibly put up with you,” Y/n chided, smiling as she carefully took a seat on the ground, her back pressed against the trunk of the tree. “Come sit,” she beckoned, making room between her legs for Mista to sit. 

“I still don’t understand why you like playing with my hair so much,” Mista sighed, plopping down between her legs, letting his head rest against her chest. He could hear her giggling behind him, the warm sound coating his eardrums in honey. It was sickeningly sweet. 

“It’s soft, and each curl differs from the last. It’s beautiful, really...” Y/n spoke softly, taking the beanie off of Mista’s head and tossing it somewhere to the side. 

“You make it sound like I’m pretty,” Mista joked, leaning into her fingers as she gently massaged his scalp.

“It’s cause you are pretty,” she murmured, carefully taking a curl between her fingers, gently running each ringlet across the tips of her fingers. 

“Well, then I guess I’ll keep the long hair for just a little longer,” Mista sighed, a faint smile ghosting across his lips as his eyes slowly shut. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever...” she confessed suddenly, e/c eyes staring off into the night sky.

“Mmm, I guess this is nice.” feigning a sense of boredom, Mista stretched his arms above his head, grinning when he felt a light pat to his head.

“Well, since this bores you so much, then you can play with your own hair!” Y/n huffed, pushing Mista off her chest before crossing her arms over her chest.

“Come on! You know I didn’t mean it,” Mista chuckled, turning to face Y/n while she sat with her back to him. 

“Nope, too late, I’ve been crushed, my soul tattered and ripped into ribbons, my heart crushed, flattened like a crepe!” She shouted, placing the back of her hand against her forehead before falling back in a less than graceful fashion. 

“Uhf-” Mista grunted, eyes waning in surprise as he struggled to catch her as she suddenly flopped to the grass, her head landing in his lap. “Oh no! It seems as though my love hath fallen!” Mista exclaimed, cupping Y/n’s face exaggeratedly, playing along with her little joke. “If only I could bring her back!” faking a sob, Mista carefully cradled her face, gently stroking her cheek before looking up into the starry night. 

Carefully opening just one eye, Y/n couldn’t help but giggle, quickly closing her eye as soon as Mista looked back down at her. 

“Oh? Perhaps, a true love’s kiss could bring her back?” Mista wondered aloud, a cheshire like grin spreading across his face as he bent down. He could see the way her eyelids fluttered in an attempt to secretly open, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth as she swallowed the laugh that was undoubtedly bubbling in her throat. And maybe, just maybe, he would humor her. 

Stopping to admire the beauty that she was, Mista finally gave in, pressing his lips softly against hers. 

It was bliss, really, the way her plush lips felt against his, smooth and tasting of just a hint of lavender. Wisteria petals blanketing them in a curtain of purple, sheltering them from the rest of the world. 

And maybe, just maybe, Mista really could stay like this forever.