#shoji x black reader

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 9.9k

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

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ I got a bit carried away with this one. My love of psychological horror was clawing to be free but I think I kept it pretty contained…

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ✦ ⋆˙ engawa ┈ a hallway-like path surrounding the house ⋆ shoji ┈ a sliding door/divider ⋆ koto ┈ a Japanese zither/stringed instrument

The winter storm has leached everything into bleak shades of black and white, like ink on parchment. The trees are thick black strokes against the deep gray clouds, dusted with a thick layer of snow as flurries fall like stars through the courtyard. In the moonlight each snowflake shines like pearls, soft and lustrous as they dance on the wind. From the edge of the engawa it almost looks like staring into the great gaping mouth of a beast that’s swallowed the world, spears of ice hanging like jagged teeth from the edge of the roof, the wind shuddering through the estate in howling gusts. The cold night is scented with dreams of spring, sweet smelling coal burning in braziers, wafting gray wisps of floral-scented smoke into the wind. 

It’s quiet aside from the sharp whistling of the wind and the hissing of snow melting over hot coals, then, somewhere within the estate, a bell tolls for the Hour of the Rooster. Nightfall, despite the veil of darkness already laid out by the storm clouds. Suddenly there’s the sound of footsteps soft as summer rain, pattering through the estate and the shoji begin to blossom with the warmth of firelight as candles are lit throughout the sprawling house. More snow gathers in soft sheets over the courtyard before there’s a gentle knock to announce a soft-footed servant coming to renew the braziers and light the lanterns. The scent of lavender is renewed as the coals are sifted and replaced and the engawa is streaked with blushing shades of gold as the pink-tinged paper lanterns are lit in turn. 

Of all the rooms in the vast estate, yours is the most adorned. Which is to say, it looks as though your room is used for more than sleeping. There’s a modest desk with inks and paper, a small table for combs and perfumes, and a trunk for miscellaneous things beside the chest of drawers filled with kimono. When she’s lit the last lantern, you ask the girl to send for your personal maid. A dowry servant, though not originally one of yours. Life in this estate is fleeting in that way. 

An unbalanced teacup had been the undoing of the girl your father sent to accompany you in your marriage. Stained silk and scalded skin, later soaked with splatters of blood. But the tatami were changed and the kimono and girl were replaced. Your new maid is a bit older–a few years your senior–originally belonging to a woman that came before you. Certainly not First Mistress because she would loathe to see you even look upon anything of hers. No, she served a less honored concubine that wasn’t worthy of the title “wife,” even if it’s a hollow honor in itself. Still, your maid had belonged to the unknown mistress before she perished. It all happened before you were brought to the estate, but the haggard weight of the loss still sits heavy on her shoulders. Her face always looks like a crumpled piece of paper that someone tried to smooth flat, creased with hidden worries. She arrives quickly, kneeling to await her orders. 

“I’m happy,” you tell her. “A new Mistress is joining the family tonight, isn’t that right? Happy news.” The maid hums something to the tune of affirmation, long since grown used to your unflinchingly jovial disposition. She once asked if you wear a smiling mask throughout the day and take it off once you sleep. It’s a silly question, of course, but you like to imagine that you smile even in your sleep. There is nothing to be sad about. Living a life such as this is no different than a deer grazing in a meadow. There is nothing beyond the grass. Nothing farther than the horizon or higher than the tallest tree. What is there to be sad about when the world has been folded into something small enough to hold in your hands, a piece of origami meant to be appreciated and not pondered. There’s happiness in the simplicity that this life provides, though you seem to be the only one to realize it. 

The other two Mistresses of the house say that you should be locked up in a rice chest and left out to die. That it’s cruel to let you live in such a state of delusion. How little they know, yet it’s still too much. At times, it seems that they are far deeper in their minds than you’ve ever been. Caught up in worries and tribulations that haven’t plagued you in a long time, since you let go of your humanity. What use is pretending to be human when you’re treated like a pet. Treasured and pampered but still inferior to the master of the house. Because your husband has no true use for human brides. In keeping the three of you, he has honored each of your families with the knowledge that their blood has produced something too intriguing to kill off just yet. Perhaps if he desires an offspring to assume his legacy he’ll have a true use for one of you. 

Other brides have been offered and had their families culled like squashing bugs. It made you feel some air of superiority, knowing that you were chosen from a dozen women to be honored as a new wife to the King of Curses. It only took a few months for you to realize your place in all this and the last thread of your humanity snapped like a frayed koto string. Thinking of yourself as a person is useless when the person that holds your life within his hands sees you as no more than a doll to be toyed with as he sees fit. 

“I’m happy.” You always mean it when you say it. Happiness is all you have left when faced with the truth of how finite your existence is. There is no world beyond the walls of this estate. No people beyond its residence and staff. No purpose outside of serving your husband with unwavering loyalty. In that regard you are the most precious of his wives. The others, their devotion wavers. You’ve seen it in the way they still hesitate to follow simple instructions, still tremble and shrink in Lord Sukuna’s presence even as you bloom like a flower in the light of the sun. He is your sun. There is no life without him. Which is why you are happy to simply exist in this small world that he’s made for you. 

His power has greatly uncomplicated your existence, turned it to something purposeful, something that will end when you’re no longer of use. And Lord Sukuna will always tell you when you serve no further purpose to him. How many underlings has he executed because they were no longer of use? You imagine they must’ve felt great pride in the moments before their demise at the hands of their King. Pride in knowing that they did what they were made to do. As a child you had scoffed at the idea that your only purpose was to be wed and serve your husband as a proper wife should, but that was when the husband of your future was set to be someone unremarkable. Lord Sukuna is greater than any man that’s ever lived. Perhaps even ascended beyond the concept of a man to become the strongest sorcerer to ever live. As the daughter of a highly regarded family known for birthing remarkable sorcerers, you take pride in your small but purposeful place in all this. The culling of clans, the clashing of factions trying to unseat your husband. History will remember you because you will play your part until the very end. An end you’ll greet with a smile if it should come by your husband’s hand. 

“Will the Fourth Mistress be here soon?” A new deer to join the herd, a new flower planted in the garden. 

“By the Hour of the Bird, the last message said.” Your maid agrees. Soon, a new Mistress will be here. It’s been so long since another woman has joined hands with Lord Sukuna. The last being yourself nearly two years ago. First Mistress had been collected three years ago, and Second Mistress came along only a short few months behind her. Lord Sukuna had waited half a year after that to marry a third wife, and you must’ve served him well because there’s been no need for another until now. It makes you wonder if death is close at hand. A raven had come earlier in the day, before the snow began to fall, announcing that Lord Sukuna would be returning from his excursion by nightfall. Perhaps he wanted to arrive home in time to greet his new bride. 

Fourth Mistress. Unlucky number Four, terrible number Four. Blowing into her marriage with a snow storm. It’s all terribly inauspicious, but Lord Sukuna has reason for everything he does. Nothing is without purpose. Even death has cause when dealt by his hand. Even if it comes tonight you will go towards it fully satisfied. The snowfall looks beautiful, and the cold isn’t so terrible with the legion of braziers burning around you and the thick furs draped over your shoulders. It’s a wonderful night to die if it should come to that. 

“Shall we go welcome her?” 

“First Mistress insisted that you need not be present for Fourth Mistress’ arrival, your highness.” First Mistress, Jurina, whose hatred towards you cannot be quelled by any manner of platitudes. 

When you first arrived, you’re sure it was mere jealousy that compelled her to act out against you. A multitude of wives is not uncommon among high ranking men, but rarely is it expected that they should all live together. Most wives are left in their parents’ homes to be visited whenever their husband deems it fit. To walk the hall of your home and come across the woman your husband sees when he is not with you must be jarring to the first woman he married. Jurina seemed adamant about dispelling you from the family upon your first arrival. Now, her animosity isn’t borne of jealousy, but discomfort. 

Your happiness makes her nervous. She’s said it herself. Snapping and raging at you for your unflinching smile even as she and Second Mistress have slowly begun to lose themselves in the monotony of this life. Sitting and waiting, then serving when Lord Sukuna comes home. To them, your complacency, your happiness, is something eerie and othered. Akin to the curses your families seek to eradicate. Unnatural. Inhuman. Though it hardly matters what they think of you. They are not your reason for being, and Lord Sukuna seems to find your smile charming. 

Despite the chill, you find yourself reaching for a fan. A gift from Uraume. They’re strangely doting towards you in a way that they aren’t to Lord Sukuna’s other wives, bringing you gifts when they accompany Lord Sukuna on long trips away from the estate. A set of calligraphy brushes, a jade bracelet, a new kimono. You’ve amassed quite a collection of possessions by Uraume’s spoiling, though the fans are your favorite. All made a beautifully lacquered wood, some painted with gilded designs, the folded paper painted by the hands of careful artists. Crashing waves and blossoming trees decorate each of your fans and you take great pride in keeping them all in pristine condition because you’d hate to perform a dance with a damaged fan. 

Of all of the things filling your room, your koto is the most precious. It had belonged to your mother and she offered it with teary eyes as your wedding gift, absolutely bereft that she had to marry her daughter off to a monster to appease the head of your father’s clan. But such was your purpose in being born into a highly acclaimed sorcerer clan. Take your blood and lend your body to another clan so that you might make more powerful jujutsu users. Your father had complained of the waste in sending you off to quell the King of Curses, insisting that sending you to Lord Sukuna would be a waste of a bride. Curses have no use for brides nor, truly, does their King. Still, Lord Sukuna keeps all of you alive and well in his home. To what end? It’s hardly your concern. 

“Bring my koto,” you hum. “I want to dance.” 

The maid goes about carrying the large stringed instrument to the edge of the room where the opened shoji separates the warmth of your room from the chill of the engawa. It is a happy coincidence that your maid had been taught to play the koto some years ago when she was still an eligible maiden. But her father grew ill and when he passed her mother sent her off to find work to support herself because she couldn’t afford a dowry to marry her off properly. So she sits and serves, waiting for you to name your song of choice with her fingers poised over the strings. The song you choose is one of comfort, the first your mother ever taught you when you were learning to dance and play. There’s a practiced grace to your movements, smooth as a flowing river as you dance with your fan. The song is short but it is always your favorite to perform. 

A rare beauty in the north, she’s the finest woman on earth. A glance from her, the city falls. A second glance leaves the nation in ruins. There exists no city or nation that has been more cherished than a beauty like this.

Flecks of snow melt against the bare nape of your neck, so cold it feels like burning, but you want to keep dancing. The weather has no bearing on your mood. Rain or shine you are happy to sing and dance, amusing yourself as you wait to be of use to your lord husband. Perhaps he has already returned home along with his new bride but without the order to accompany him you will stay in your room, performing to your heart’s content. Your maid begins to pluck out the notes of your next song request, fingers stuttering over the strings as if she’s forgotten how to play the melody. That’s alright, you will dance even without proper music, swinging your fan with practiced poise as your voice contests with the howling of the storm. It’s a song of longing and melancholy. Fitting for a woman separated from her husband. 

Are you going away? Leaving me alone? How could I live if you’ve gone away? Are you going away? Leaving me alone? I want to keep you unhappy with me. I fear you may never return. Sadly, I will let you go–

“Stop whining, I’m here.” A voice interrupts your singing, a smooth timbre that rumbles like a roll of thunder. So please, come back soon after you leave. In a heartbeat you’re on the floor, kneeling before your husband. Lord Sukuna is soiled from his travels. Kimono stained and torn, the scent of blood lingering heavily around him, along with the buzzing aura of excess cursed energy leaking into the cold air around him. 

“Welcome home, Lord Sukuna.” He purrs at how you prostrate yourself at his feet, always so satisfied with your absolute submission. He once told you your lack of fear was something intriguing, your unwavering adoration far more interesting than submission borne of fear. It’s something he’s found in so few of his followers and you imagine it’s why he shows such preference for Uraume’s company. Of all of your husband’s subordinates, they are by far the most devout. Perhaps even more than you because they know what Lord Sukuna is trying to achieve with all the calamity he causes. Your lord husband has never made you privy to that knowledge, and as a good wife you remember it is not your place to ask. If you are meant to know something, he’ll tell you. 

“Get out.” His voice is thick with something akin to revulsion, though you don’t bother to raise your head. Lord Sukuna hasn’t spoken to you so gruffly since you first proved your devotion to him. Behind you there’s the sound of frantic movements as your maid assumedly makes herself scarce in the presence of her master. When she’s gone Lord Sukuna gives you permission to lift your head. In the low light, you can hardly see his face. It’s hard to tell Lord Sukuna’s mood even in bright lighting. He hardly changes from his stoic expression unless there’s blood being spilled, then a smile–more like a deranged baring of his fanged teeth–finds its way onto his face. 

“Come bathe with me.” He doesn’t wait for you to react, already halfway down the engawa by the time you gather yourself enough to stand. Lord Sukuna traverses the estate with practiced ease, as if this was his childhood home and not all place of residence usurped from some affluent family. Though the perks of Lord Sukuna’s minions commandeering such a luxurious home for their leader and his family are the accommodations afforded to only the highest nobility. Because only families with more money than time to spend it can afford to build their home large enough to encompass a hot spring along with all the other necessary land. The air is humid around the bathhouse, curtained with steam as clouds of warm air seep out of the secluded space. 

Lord Sukuna stands expectantly at the edge of the rocks surrounding the steaming pool, waiting for you to fulfill your wifely duties. With great haste you begin to undress him. His kimono is ruined beyond repair, delicate white silk tattered and stained with browning patches of blood. Still, you take great care in folding each article as it’s removed from his body. There’s no added layers despite the inclement weather, no added underclothes beneath the outer layer of clothing. Your hands reach skin sooner than you expected, flinching away from the warmth of his muscles as if his skin were an open flame. Despite your status as his wife and your consequently intimate knowledge of his body, you still err on the side of caution when it comes to touching Lord Sukuna. He had only asked you to undress him, not to run your fingers over the corded muscles of his arms. Luckily, your husband seems unconcerned with the wayward touch. Instead of snapping at you he rolls his shoulders as if the layers of clothes had been restricting his movements. In all likelihood, they probably have. 

Lord Sukuna is something that is no longer human. A higher being ascended beyond the physicality of a normal man, as if his body could no longer handle the brunt of his power and needed to evolve to fit the newly emerging shape of his soul. Once, before you first laid eyes upon him, Lord Sukuna had the appearance of a mere man. An unremarkable face and body. But now he has become something beyond the shape of a human. “A two faced demon with four arms,” as the members of your clan had called him when talks of appeasing the great King of Curses began whispering through the halls of your maiden home. Of course his rumored differences held no bearing on whether or not the clan would be willing to sacrifice a bride to satisfy the Disgraced One. His four eyes and black markings make no difference to your devotion. He is still the husband you’ve dedicated your life to. 

Tentatively, you try to strike up a conversation as Lord Sukuna settles himself in the warm pool. “Has Fourth Mistress arrived yet?” 

“Yes, she arrived before I did. I expected you to be with the others, fawning over her. Why weren’t you?” His tone is calculated as if he is trying to decide if there is cause for punishment. Your next words are chosen carefully. 

“First Mistress did not think–it was requested that I not attend to Fourth Mistress’ arrival.” 

“Are you not my wife?” Lord Sukuna asks, annoyance thick in his tone. Of course you are. In this life you are nothing if not his wife. “I expect that you’ll act your part. The lady of the house is meant to greet guests upon their arrival. I don’t care what Jurina says. You’re of noble birth. You know the rules on how to conduct yourself. Act like it.” 

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my lord, but I am not the lady of the house. That is First Mistress Jurina’s title.” To go against your husband’s word is wrong, reason enough for him to lash out at you, but it is the truth that Jurina is always reminding you of. She is First Mistress, the matron of the estate. It is you that is a lowly concubine in comparison to her status as a legal wife. Lord Sukuna bristles at your insolence and you duck your head to receive your reproach. He’s a short distance away, submerged to his waist in the warm water, but Lord Sukuna can move like a striking snake. It would only take half a beat of your heart for him to reach you and tear it from your chest if he so desires it. 

Tonight’s admonishment is far less violent. Coming in the form of a disparaging growl before he snaps at you to undress. You do so with the same care that you disrobed your husband. As his wife, you are an extension of him, and you dare not mistreat his items in his presence. Once your clothes are folded you approach Lord Sukuna with hesitant steps. You’ve discovered that drowning and burning are the worst means of death and the boiling water of the hot spring is a combination of both. Still, if tonight will be wasted on death, at least it will come in Lord Sukuna’s arms. He reaches to help you into the water, drawing you close while his second pair of arms stay splayed on the rocks behind him. He moves you as he pleases like a doll being perched on a shelf, positioning you to straddle his thigh. 

“Look at me, woman.” His tone doesn’t sound angry, but that has never been a successful way to guess at Lord Sukuna’s intentions. He can execute someone with a smile. You hope he’ll offer you that same cruel grin when he pushes hot beneath the bubbling water. 

“I do not care what order I married any of you in. It should be clear by now that you are the woman of this house. First or third, it doesn’t matter. Jurina’s words hold no weight over you. Do I make myself clear?” There’s a franticness to the way you nod your head, chirping out a pinched “yes, Lord Sukuna!” as he holds your chin to keep your eyes on his. 

“You’re the only wife that matters to me, stupid woman. The rest,” he scoffs, “I wouldn’t spit down their throats even if their lungs were on fire. Even the new one. Jurina is nothing and no one. I will kill her right now if it will please you.” 

And that had been the original crux of Jurina’s jealousy. The priority with which Lord Sukuna always seemed to treat you. There were always rumors about the estate that you are the favored wife, the one that truly matters, but it is hard to believe rumors when Lord Sukuna hardly does anything to validate them. Though his constant quelling of his temper in your presence should be evidence enough. It’s a rare thing for your husband to lash out at you, but you always assumed it was simply because you were careful with your actions. Never giving him any reason to turn his ire against you. It’s plain to see now that the reason for your persisted well treatment is simple. You are his favorite wife. 

Possessive as he is, Lord Sukuna has favorites in everything. Cursed weapons that he favors over all others, and servants that he calls on more often than the rest. To know you hold weight among his most precious possessions is dizzying. Of course, to Lord Sukuna, a favorite thing is a useful thing. It’s easy to imagine that you’re the most useful of his four wives. Neither of your seniors have remarkable cursed techniques despite hailing from quite notable families in the hierarchy of the jujutsu world. And any technique they do possess is woefully untrained as is expected of women in the world of sorcery. Women of jujutsu-laden clans are meant to be vessels from which the next generation of male sorcerers are born, not taught to be sorcerers in their own right. 

It was only by a terrible coincidence that you were able to train your own technique. A jealous cousin and a well. A harsh push to your back after she whispered about how she should be the one to marry first despite her inferior talents as a homemaker. She got her wish, the husband she so covetously desired. Last you heard she’d been returned to your family’s estate after being set aside for a more fitting woman. 

When she pushed you, falling felt like flying and dying felt like burning as your lungs filled with water. In the end you’d spent nearly a week at the bottom of that seldom used well, floundering for your life as your cursed technique kept you in a constant loop of dying and reviving, bursting back to life stronger than when you died. Chrysalis is what your family had taken to calling your ability when you were finally fished out with a bucket of water. Death was something impermanent to you, though the manner of which you passed holds bearing on how long you’ll be stuck in your “cocooned” state. You imagine being killed by means of jujutsu would kill you properly, forever, but no one has been bold enough to try. Certainly not now that you are a treasured wife of the King of Curses. Though you’re sure Lord Sukuna will kill you eventually, when your purpose has been served. For now, it seems your purpose is to provide him with the comforts a wife can offer her husband. 

“Kiss me.” He commands, hand on your jaw already pulling you towards him. There’s never been anything delicate about Lord Sukuna as far as you could tell. He’s always had an air of harshness to him, something wild and untamed that bleeds into his every movement. You’ve decided it must be because he lives the same as you, unimpeded by the world around him. The King of Curses bows to nothing and no one, so why should he govern himself by the laws and morals of humanity. Kindness, restraint, it doesn’t seem to exist to your lord husband. The same way fear no longer exists to you. So when Lord Sukuna’s hand–large enough to hold your head in his palm–pulls you towards his fanged mouth, you feel nothing but unadulterated lust. It’s unbecoming of a woman to find herself so lost in her bodily whims but you’re no longer just a woman. You’re Lord Sukuna’s woman, and within the walls of his home, shame no longer exists. You melt against him as his sharp teeth find the softness of your lips. Blood spills between your open mouths, dripping down your bodies before dripping into the water with a soft tinge of pink. 

“Sweet,” he hums. 

It’s no secret that Lord Sukuna is prone to fits of bloodlust so blinding he’ll tear his teeth into anything soft he can find, no matter the origin of the flesh. Animal or human it’s all the same when he’s tearing his claws through a warm body. He’s mentioned sampling your body once. How he’s thought about tearing off bits and pieces of you to taste. Of course, he told you that he would only maim you in such a way as punishment for misbehavior–it hardly matters when death would only find you mended and made anew–though it hasn’t stopped him from sinking his teeth into you when he’s wrapped up in another kind of lust.

Usually imperceptible if you aren’t looking for it, the only sign of Lord Sukuna’s arousal stands proudly between your legs, so large they breach the surface of the water as he holds you steady in his lap. His upper arms are still splayed out on the stone behind him as he reclines as if he is seated on a throne. He’s shown you what a throne fit for the King of Curses would look like, but only once. In his domain. An infinite wasteland bathed in blood with a single shrine standing at its heart. A corrupted chinjusha of flesh and bone. All gaping maws and cracked skulls. A shrine dedicated to the only higher power Lord Sukuna will ever respect; himself. The strange mouth splitting a seam between his muscles always reminds you of his Malevolent Shrine, of the four grotesque mouths that stand where the four doors of a shrine would be. Its tongue is strangely textured, like that of a cat’s as it lolls out of his stomach to lap at your skin. Sometimes you find yourself wondering if Lord Sukuna has control over the appendage or if it acts of its own volition each time the grainy feeling drags over your body, but it isn’t your place to ask. Who has control or not, it doesn’t matter. Lord Sukuna is your husband and you relish even the smallest touch whether it’s intentional or not. 

“Are you going to please your husband?” He asks. The answer is always simple. Yes. It is your sole purpose now that he’s taken you as his wife and torn your world into the smallest pieces until only this single scrap remains. It’s becoming so precious no matter how small and defaced it becomes. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you stepped out of line. Tried to leave the estate, tried to defy Lord Sukuna. In truth, you’ll never know. Your husband is your world and your world is your husband. Of course you will do everything within your power to please him. He seems satisfied with just the look in your eyes as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. If it would please him you’d slash yourself open, spill your innards into his lap and watch him feast on your flesh. His true wish is far more gentle, something a more humble husband would ask of his bride. 

“Touch me.” His clawed hand is already guiding yours to his stiffness, wrapping your fingers over the length of him. It’s so strange that curses can bleed, but Lord Sukuna isn’t exactly a curse nor is he a human. He’s something more but his heart beats just the same. You feel it in your palm as his cock twitches in your grip, thick veins thrumming under his skin. Perhaps it’s the water or more likely it’s something innate to your husband because he always feels hot to the touch, his skin is nearly scalding as you wrap your hands around his twin cocks, fingers spread too wide to touch around his girth. Lord Sukuna looks pleased as he leans back, eyes watching you as if to catch a flaw in your presentation. A rogue frown or unintended scowl that would prove your supposed dedication false. 

Even after so long he’s waiting for you to break, to truly realize what you’re doing and be disgusted enough to shrink away. The only thing you feel at this moment is heady arousal. It pools like molten lava deep in your stomach, seeping between your legs and into the water. There’s been no permission given so you remain still, but your hips ache to shift against the strength of Lord Sukuna’s chiseled thigh, to relieve a bit of the tension his lingering gaze has caused. But his hand hasn’t strayed from your hip, in fact his grip has tightened with each stroke of your hands. There’s a stinging bite as his claws dig through your skin, burying deep enough to draw blood despite the composure still set in stone on his face. He is still a man in some regard. Still a husband enjoying the touch of his wife. The thought blooms sweetly in your chest, lifting a soft smile to your lips. Lord Sukuna notices in an instant, four eyes still trained on your face. He snatches your chin up, straining your neck with how quickly he guides your eyes towards his. 

“What are you smiling about, brat?” Another attempt to catch you in a lie, to find some falsehood in your contentment. Even your lord husband finds himself questioning if your happiness is true. You thumb over the head of one of his cocks, bringing the taste to your lips. And because he is watching you so intensely you make a coquettish show of dragging your tongue over the pad of your finger, gasping when Lord Sukuna’s fingers bury deeper into your delicate skin. There will be cuts and bruises when he’s done with you. There always are. Then your maid–or, on some occasions, Uraume–will come to tend to your body marked by your husband’s touch. You like the way your body burns when he’s through with you, memories of his touch simmering in your mind. He scoffs when you wrap your lips around your thumb. With a cruel smile he hooks his own thumb into your mouth, talon scraping against your tongue as he pulls your jaw until your mouth is as wide as you can bear with only the slightest twinge of pain. 

Drool pools in your mouth, dripping out of the corners as they sting with the strain of Lord Sukuna’s strength. He sneers, looking pleased with the mess you’re making as he leans down to lick it up before spitting it back into your open mouth. You nearly choke and rush to swallow with a rattling cough. It tastes like blood, likely your own though you wonder if your husband sank his teeth into something before coming to you. The blood on his clothes looked dry, though you can never be certain with Lord Sukuna. You banish the thought, thrilled with the way he no longer seems to be dividing his focus. 

Before he had looked uninterested, as if his mind was elsewhere even as he looked at you servicing him so happily. Now he’s leaned in close enough for you to see his eyelashes, a rare treat with his immense stature. He’s nearly all you can see, all you can feel and you revel in it as your world shrinks to this tiny pinprick. There’s nothing outside this bathhouse. Only the infinite nothingness that surrounds a domain. The world could come apart outside these four walls and you wouldn’t care as long as Lord Sukuna keeps you in his arms. As if he knows your thoughts, the very deepest desires of your heart, Lord Sukuna drags you up his leg by the hand still embedded in the fat of your hips and the feeling sings through your body as your clit catches against the firmness of his thigh. Your hands tighten around his cocks still pulsing in your hands, though his only reaction is the slightest twitch of his lip. 

“Am I doing a good job, Lord Sukuna?” You ask around his thumb, truly desperate for approval. If you were any more pitiful he might’ve pet your hair like a loyal hound. Instead he laughs, something short and sardonic as his teeth nip at your cheek. Warmth blooms then drips down the curve of your face and you know he’s broken skin once more. 

“Enough with the stupid questions. If you want my praise you know how to earn it. Show me how badly you want it and I might reward your efforts.” You slip from his lap, mourning the loss of his leg pressing between yours as you kneel in the water. It’s up to your neck as your knees meet the bottom of the pool, steam billowing like a veil in front of your eyes as you center yourself at the apex of Lord Sukuna’s thighs. He’s spread out above you like a proud effigy, a statue meant to be worshiped. You feel a transcendent kind of devotion kneeling at the feet of your lord husband. The taste of him lands heavy on your tongue as your lips tease at the head of his dick, swallowing him in slow increments. Despite the harsh preparation of your mouth, you still wish to savor every moment spent servicing your husband. 

His face is clouded in shadows again as he leans back, head tilted towards the ceiling. The lanterns flicker playful shadows across his body, highlighting and shrouding pieces of him as you bow to take him into your mouth in earnest. Your jaw still aches from the way he nearly unhinged it, but it works in your favor as your lips wrap around his length. 

There’s nothing dignified about the way you’re swallowing his dick, little focus being allotted to your own comfort as you take him as deeply as his size will allow. His body is strange, of course, but it’s all you’ve ever known of a man. Aside from Lord Sukuna you’ve never seen any man bared beyond his chest, although you know innately that humans aren’t meant to have the endowments he does. His second cock presses against your cheek, dribbling over your skin as you hollow your cheeks until Lord Sukuna’s thighs twitch. Muscles seizing tighter as the head of his cock meets the tightness of your throat. Breathing is far from your mind, a need secondary to pleasing your husband. It’s a messy endeavor and you loathe to think of how terrible you must look. It’s always been a point of pride to preen yourself to perfection because husbands like their women to look beautiful when they arrive home, or at least Lord Sukuna seems to prefer it. Though he never seems bothered by what is surely a horrid display as split slicks down your chin and tears dot along your lash line as you gag around his dick. 

Lord Sukuna flicks your forehead after a while, likely drawing another scratch between your brows. It’s a fraction of his power. It’s likely he could take your head apart as easily as squashing a peach under his heel yet he hardly puts effort behind the reproach. Only enough to draw your attention as he drags you, coughing and drooling, off of his cock. They’re both gathered into one fist so he can drag the taste of his leaking precum over your parted lips. 

“You know better.” Lord Sukuna does not take things in half measures. His intentions are clear. If you’re going to pleasure him, do it right and do it well. Your jaw pops open again, wide enough to take his twin cocks into your mouth. He stretched and strained your mouth but there’s only so much that can be done with the sheer size of him. And while he does well to shield his thoughts at the best of times, you imagine he must be gleaning a fair bit of pleasure from your messy sucking as his hand remains in your hair. His claws scratch against your scalp, gentle enough to keep your skin intact as he keeps your mouth wrapped around him. A burning type of exertion settles painfully in your jaw but you’ll endure. Lord Sukuna never likes to keep you like this for long. With both of his weeping cocks tangled between your lips you can hardly take more than the head of each. In the end, his preference will always be the wet heat brewing between your legs. Another bout of pain sings through your scalp as Lord Sukuna pulls your mouth away from him, leaving threads of spit dripping between your bodies. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pressing against the grooves where his teeth bit into your skin until they begin to bleed anew.

He manipulates your body as if you’re merely a puppet dancing on strings. A flex of his arm and you’re lifting off your knees, hips stretched wide to accommodate the width of his body between them. His spit-laden cocks are pressed between your bodies, grinding into the soft expanse of your stomach as he pulls your bleeding mouth to his. He suckles at your torn skin, humming at the taste of your blood seeping onto his tongue. His hands find your hips, pressing into the marks he’s already left there as he hikes you higher against his body. The tongue lolling out of his stomach finds its way between your thighs, lapping at the mess that’s left after the water washed away the first wave of your arousal. It’s nearly too much with how textured the wide appendage is but you welcome any type of relief you can find as Lord Sukuna pulls your head to the side quick enough to send a stinging twinge up the column of your neck. The pain is only intensified as he noses against the soft curve where your neck meets your shoulder, as if he’s looking for something. 

His tongue sweeps over your skin before his fanged teeth make a home in it. There’s a rippling groan that thunders in his chest as a true taste of your blood spills into his mouth. Before long, your head is spinning from blood loss. Lord Sukuna must feel the change in your pulse as it turns slippery, harder to catch beneath your skin. He pulls away with a satisfied groan as his hands press your hips deeper into the expanse of his lower tongue. 

“Enjoying yourself, brat?” Lord Sukuna sneers, and because you have no sense of shame you find yourself nodding earnestly. He’s hardly touched you and what touches he’s shared have been steeped in equal parts pain and pleasure, yet you’ve enjoyed it all the same. It’s awkward and teasing because there’s no tact to the way his lower tongue moves between your legs. It’s like striking a flint without starting a fire, dull sparks of teasing pleasure that leave you wanting more. You’d rather have his face between your legs and a more dexterous tongue teasing you to the edge, but it would be presumptuous to make any kind of demands of your husband especially when he’s a man like Lord Sukuna. 

In most regards, your pleasure is incidental. Secondary to his own. So when his teeth snap over his claws, biting the sharp points into flattened nubs, you feel your excitement growing. He’s learned from experience that his rough treatment of your body should not extend to certain places. After only a few times he pressed his clawed fingers inside you, Lord Sukuna learned that it would better serve him if his nails were dulled before he went poking them inside you. And they’ll be grown back to full length by night’s end. He can manipulate the shape of his body as easily as fire melting snow. His hand smooths over the side of your body, sliding against your ribs and hips as he makes his way between your legs. His fingers plunge inside with little warning, forcing you open with a swiftness you could almost call desperation. If something so undignified could ever be said about the King of Curses. 

Lord Sukuna is a behemoth, dwarfing you in every regard, and his hands are no different. His fingers reach deep inside you, stroking over the place that has your back bowing as he makes space for himself inside you. He hums at how easily you take his fingers, sounding somewhere between amused and approving. It flutters through your chest and settles atop the arousal already building inside you. 

“Give your body to me, woman. Open yourself to your king.” You try to say something as he slips another finger inside you but it comes out as little more than a breathy whine. This is already too much and yet it can’t compare to how full you’ll feel when he gets his cocks inside you. His fingers are a luxury offered in preparation for his true reward and you take it happily. He smirks at the way your thighs strain as you try to grind against his touch. The heel of his hand is pressed tight against your clit and you buck your hips against the feeling. Lord Sukuna’s skin is thick, nothing like the softness of your own and it feels just the right amount of rough against your clit. One of Lord Sukuna’s hands finds your hair again, yanking hard until you’re looking up at him with tears shimmering in your vision. 

“There’s my spoiled brat. This is how you act. This is how the wife of a king is meant to be. Take what you want, woman, take everything I give you.” A dark laugh booms through the room as you whine and paw at Lord Sukuna’s chest. He adds another to the litany of scratches decorating your skin as his teeth nip at your neck, distracting you from the sting of another finger finding its way inside you. 

“You were made for this,” he reminds you. “Made to be mine. My bride. You can take it.” He sounds almost patronizing, voice softening to a teasing lilt as his thumb presses against your clit. Like with everything, Lord Sukuna is harsh, forcing you to the edge quicker than expected. Each curl of his fingers yanks at the string tightening inside you, pulling you closer and closer to the edge as he moves his hands with inhuman speed inside you. Everything is hard and fast and your thighs start to tremble in his hold, body shivering as Lord Sukuna all but wrings the orgasm out of your body. You clench hard around his fingers, pussy dripping down your thighs as you try to steady yourself with your hands on Lord Sukuna’s shoulders. He allows it, revels in it as he pulls you into another bloody kiss. But even as you tremble in his arms, Lord Sukuna doesn’t stop. His thumb is still circling your twitching bud even as you try to whine out a plea for mercy. It only brings a fanged smile to his lips. 

“Take it,” he grunts, “I know you can.” It really feels like you can’t. The tension brought on by your orgasm hasn’t dispersed and you feel like a knot being pulled ever tighter, back curling until your face is buried against his chest. He smells like the bath. Like sweet oils and wildflowers as your nose is buried against his scalding skin. With your forehead pressed against his chest your eyes have nowhere to look but down. Down at the way his cocks are straining to be touched, flushed and leaking just out of reach. You look up to distract yourself with the black markings etched into Lord Sukuna’s chest. Your kisses are sloppy, wet and open-mouthed as your tongue peeks out to trace the shape of each tattoo. It’s not until your teeth begin to nip at his chest that Lord Sukuna scruffs you once more. 

“Trying to leave a mark on me, brat?” As if you could. Your teeth are likely no different than trying to pierce his skin with a blade of grass. “What a greedy little bride I have. So eager to defer to another wife’s authority when you’re this possessive of your husband. Isn’t that right, woman?” You try to shake your head. Of course, you aren’t possessive of him, you know your place. You are the Third Mistress. Perhaps you are his favorite but there is a hierarchy that must be upheld in the household. To so brazenly try to claim full authority over your lord husband would be lunacy. There is no higher authority than the King of Curses himself. You’re simply a pebble lingering in the shadow of the highest mountain. 

“Yes you are,” he grins. You whine as he pulls his hand from between your legs. “Look at the mess you’ve made trying to mark me up like a bitch in heat.” There’s no sense of embarrassment welling at his degrading words. What sense is there in hiding how well your husband pleasures you? And Lord Sukuna seems proud as his tongue licks up the mess you’ve made on his hand before pressing a kiss to your parted lips. You taste yourself on his tongue. Your blood and your pleasure. 

“You’re going to take me so well, aren’t you?” It’s hardly a question. Simply an ordered phrased as if you could deny yourself the feeling of being split open on Lord Sukuna’s cocks. He starts with one, always. Dragging the leaking head through the mess he’s made of your cunt, tapping against your clit until he finally presses inside. His body is a marvel and you’re blessed to be so acquainted with it as the length not pressing inside you grinds against your clit as he makes you take him as deep as your body will allow. Lord Sukuna has been known to be rash and unpredictable, a being of pure chaos when the mood strikes him, but when he’s with you like this everything he does is deliberate. 

He’s rough but not destructively so. Yes, you’re bleeding as he bounces you in his lap, drawing a litany of breathless sounds from your lips, but he’s always intentional when drawing blood. You’ve been trained well in these years of marriage to take him. To weather any storm Lord Sukuna throws at you. His hands are bruising on your hips as he drags you up and down his length, hands that could shatter your bones with the slightest bit of effort and yet he only uses enough strength to hold you close. You’re not deluded enough to think that Lord Sukuna loves you, certainly not in the way a lover should, but he cares enough to treat you with a level of gentility. 

“Thank you,” you babble it like a prayer, over and over. Worshiping at your husband’s altar for even the briefest thought given to your safety, your pleasure. It can never be said that Lord Sukuna is a neglecting lover, at least not with you. He’s everywhere all at once. Hands on your hips and at your breasts, pinching at the aching peaks of your nipples. His face is buried against your throat, teeth surely raising welts as his tongue laps at the taste of blood and sweat dampening your skin. You cling to him in turn, nails digging into the thick muscles of his arms with no hope of ever drawing blood. Still, he grunts out a laugh as you drag your dull nails across his skin, leaving nothing but the whisper of claw marks behind. An arm slips out from under your grasp, unbalancing you, but Lord Sukuna is quick to steady your boneless body as he reaches between you to take hold of his second cock. It’s thick and straining, leaking against your skin as he presses it in beside the first. The stretch is harsh, a stinging pinch between your legs soothed only in part by his thumb drawing shapes against your clit. He hushes you when your whining gets too loud, hands clamping tight to your hips to keep you from squirming away from taking all of him.

“Be a good wife and accept your reward.” Lord Sukuna hisses as he presses deep inside you. The weight of him settles like molten heat inside you, his hand pressing over the shape of himself through your stomach. “Hush, you can take it.” He hisses, biting at your cheek as tears well in your eyes once more. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a strange feeling to be so full all at once. 

“My pretty wife.” He’s only this sweet when he has you close to breaking, teetering on the edge of insanity from the way he’s taking his pleasure from your body. “Look at me, woman. Keep your eyes on your king.” It’s hard to look anywhere else. He isn’t sweating, this is hardly more than a leisurely stroll for him, but the humidity has left his skin beaded with moisture. It makes him shimmer in the torchlight like the divine being that he is, wasting his time on a creature as lowly as you. It’s your blessing that he’s so enraptured with you at the moment. Your eyes slip shut, tears streaming down your cheeks as every corner of your body feels lit aflame, the heat only made worse as Lord Sukuna’s hand finds your jaw. 

“I said, eyes. On. Me.” He growls. With a bit of resistance, your eyes flutter open, white light swimming at the edge of your vision as Lord Sukuna drags you to the precipice of insanity. He’s close. Far less careful and coherent as he drags you up and down his lengths with startling strength. He’s pressing against every sweet spot inside you, igniting a thousand flames at once that threaten to swallow you whole. There’s a pitchy mantra of “wait, wait, wait” playing on your tongue but it only seems to further entice your husband. 

“You gonna sing for me, woman? Go on, let me hear something pretty when you come for your king.” He’s taunting you, laughing at how shrill your voice sounds. It nearly does sound like you’re singing as you wail his name, back bowing as he rips another orgasm from your spent body. It’s as quick as a lightning strike and nearly as blinding, eyes clouding white for a moment as you fight to keep your eyelids from fluttering. From taking your eyes off Lord Sukuna for even a moment. You feel yourself clawing at him, clinging and grasping to keep yourself grounded as pleasure shatters through your body. Vaguely you can hear Lord Sukuna laughing, something tinged dark with amusement as he works you through your orgasm. He has no patience to wait for you to regain your breath, to see the light of coherence return to your eyes. Instead, his hands grip tighter to your waist, nails biting into your skin as he works you faster over his cocks. His voice dips low, a rasping gravel as he grunts, squeezing every bit of his own pleasure from your body. It’s barely a change, just the slightest shift, but you’ve done this so many times that you can almost sense when he gets close. 

Lord Sukuna gathers your loosening muscles back into some semblance of an embrace, holding you tight to his chest as he pushes your hips low enough for your bodies to meet in earnest. The feeling is a wet slide of skin against skin, the mess of your joined pleasure slicking up your bodies. It nearly feels like choking as he holds you still, the shape of him pressing every so slightly against the softness of your stomach. He’s more gentle now, but only by a hair’s breadth, as he thumbs over the shape of his body making a home for itself inside yours. There’s always a hint of softness at the edges of moments like this. A bit of the darkness bleeds from Lord Sukuna’s eyes as he guides your hips to grind against him, thumbing where he sees himself beneath your skin. Lord Sukuna has always been smart, his intelligence far exceeding that of your woefully undereducated mind. 

There’s never been a time where you were certain of his thoughts, but in moments like these you think there’s a hint of curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Something desirous of the unknown and intangible. He moves in shallow thrusts, thumb dancing lazily over your puffy clit for only a moment more before he’s spilling inside you with a satisfied groan. But, still, he keeps you there. As if forcing your body to take to everything he’s given you. If it were up to you, your womb would quicken to give him a child; proof of your devotion. But even the fantasy sounds impossible. Lord Sukuna has shed his humanity and with it, you assume, his ability to continue his legacy by way of heirs. Though he hardly needs them. 

Lord Sukuna is a shining beacon of the height of jujutsu, proof of what greatness can be achieved when you’re willing to go beyond the standards set out by society. He’s immortal, indomitable. Children would only be another jewel in his crown, more pawns to serve his greater will. And it’s unlikely such children of greatness will ever come to pass. In all your years of marriage, there’s never been a single moment where you thought for even a moment that Lord Sukuna’s seed took. And it likely never will. It’s wasted as he lifts you off of his softening length, everything he gave you dripping out into the spring water. The light flickers and for a moment it almost looks like there’s a spark of disappointment in his eye, then the torches shift again and the shadows are gone.

“You did well, woman.” He hums, running his hands over the length of your body. The heat of his palms and the babbling water works to soothe the aches and pains of being so thoroughly used by your behemoth of a husband. “Who do you love, wife?” He asks after the breath finally returns to your lungs. Of course it’s him. There is no one else. No man could compare, like a pebble being compared to a shining jewel. 

“Good girl.” He says when you’ve finished your babbling. Like a true king, Lord Sukuna loves to hear his own praises and you’re more than happy to sing them. Sometimes it’s startling how perfectly the two of you exist together. He’s the sun and you’re a flower turning your face to gaze upon him always. Which of his other wives could ever share in a fraction of your devotion? No one will ever love Lord Sukuna as you do, save for maybe Uraume. Perhaps they don’t love him, but there is a fine line between love and admiration. The loyal servant comes bustling into the bathhouse after Lord Sukuna has had his fill of soft caresses and breathless praises. 

The fact that both of you are bare makes no difference to Uraume. They lift you from Lord Sukuna’s arms with startling strength, hands frigid against your skin as they guide you to sit and go about drying your body and combing your hair. It’s always strange to be tended to by someone other than your personal maid, more so when it’s by the hands of Lord Sukuna’s most trusted servant, but it seems Uraume sees you as an extension of Lord Sukuna as much as you do. They dry and dress you, sending you back to your room so that they may speak privately with your husband. Some time later when the bells of the estate are tolling for the Hour of the Dog, the strumming of your koto is interrupted further by screaming. Something bloodcurdling terrified as it rings through the house, echoing into the snow speckled night. Vaguely you think of how the screaming sounds like First Mistress Jurina. 

[wvoonie]

۫ ꣑ৎ   SWEET DREAMS  — MUICHIRO X READER

— Ah, after a long day of hard work, it was finally time for a nap.

Requested by : no one !

Genre : fluffy (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Trigger warnings : None !

Word count : 260 words

N/A : Happy b-day to the lovely mist Hashira ! (And to his silly brother Yui) ‼️ I love them so much you 🫵 can't imagine !!! I'm kissing Mui rn btw (if you see any grammatical mistakes that's your imagination trust)

𝜗𝜚

he does loves to lay his head on your lap — he'd close his beautiful light blue eyes, his lashes would kiss his soft skin, and small, almost inaudible snores would leave his mouth.

୨ৎ

The poor boy didn't have much time to rest, so he would lay down any time he could. Sometimes in the evenings before he went off to train with the wind pillar and the serpent pillar, he'd take a small nap, and oh did he love sleeping with you by his side.

It was evening now, the sky was slowly turning into a gorgeous mix of pink, orange and blue.

Muichiro slowly slid open the Shoji door and quietly stepped into the room, he was visibly exhausted but he wasn't one to complain outloud.

"ah, there you are..." 

His expression softened into a slight smile as he stumbled over to you, now he was standing in front of you, seeming to be analyzing your expression. After a few seconds of quietly gazing at your face, he plopped down his head on your lap, closing his eyes and drifting off to a sweet sleep. He truly looked angelical in his sleep. You found yourself smiling while gently brushing the boy's silky, black strands with your hand. Your heart was palpitating loudly against your chest — thump, thump — did he hear? You wondered — this was all too bizarre, all too dream-like.

But he only snores softly, the corners of his lips curling upwards forming a soft smile.

You were enjoying this a lot, maybe a little more than you should.

Written by @ love-stvrs   𖹭️️   do not repost without permission   𖹭️️   reblogs = motivation & more of these ! 

— Taglist : @muuumuiiii, @cloudymistedskies, @ramuunene, @st2r-g1rlx0x0, @blueberrypie20, @larz-barz

— white and blue divider cr to @agsthv // plain blue divider cr to @moonpascal

[scaralvr]

⠀⠀ 💤 GOOD LOOKING! scaramouche x gn!reader

synopsis: kunikuzushi is confused as to why his 'heart' craves something besides you, his lover. when he comes to realize he abandoned you just like his creator and friends did to him, he returns only to be greeted by nothing. ୨ sfw, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort ୧

⠀⠀📋 this is a short nd silly little filler post while i'm working on heaps of reqs atm😵‍💫 this is based off of suki waterhouse's song good looking!!

kunikuzushi seeks something greater in the comforting and quiet life he has with you. after three betrayals, he's finally found someone to love and care for without having to worry about them leaving. but why is it that his heartless chest yearns for something else? is it possible you're not what he needs?

he awakes in a cold sweat when he finds out. a heart. the puppet longs for a heart of his own. being able to love and be loved wasn't enough, or so he thought. one day when you leave to get groceries, kunikuzushi asks if he can join you, to your surprise. and of course, you could never turn down your lover.

you smile and allow him to go to inazuma city with you. you tell him it's good for him, that he has a chance of meeting new people and improving his communication skills. and kunikuzushi may have met people, but definitely not the ones you would've wanted him to.

tides thrash inside, baby, i'm high octane

you find your lover's presence to be something rare nowadays, as you're spending nights alone with an empty bed and a blank mind. it's not as lively without kunikuzushi, you would think. you turn to face the window and the moon is high and proud among the pitch black sky filled with stars.

the familiar sound of the door opening alarms you and you get out of bed with a hopeful smile on your lips. "kunikuzushi!" you greet the puppet with a warm welcome as you help him take off his materials. lately, he seems to be indulging in oddly different clothes rather than the ones you sewed just for him.

his gaze is so cold and distant. you notice this while waiting for him to speak up, but he never does. scaramouche brushes past you and slides the shoji doors shut to his room. your heart twinges for a moment. you were hoping to finally talk to him after what seemed like forever, but he must be busy again. surely, he doesn't need his lover as a thorn in his side.

fever in a shock wave, my core vibrates in an opium haze

scaramouche barely remembers he even had a lover to begin with. he supposes being occupied with fatui business has taken a toll on his memory as well, besides his physical and mental state. he allowed the doctor to perform strange tests on him after studying scaramouche as a specimen. he'll admit; the "harmless" experiments performed on him were rougher than he expected, but all's fine.

if he can't take on all of this pain on his own, how can he continue his path to stealing the gnosis and becoming a God? through these experiences, scaramouche has come to hate mirrors. when he looks at himself, he finds the same vulnerable boy inside him despite changing so much within time. the split ends of his hair remind him of how he ruthlessly cut it himself after his mother abandoned him.

he merely scoffs at the thought. only weaklings dwell upon the past. scaramouche is the present and future; he believes that the past is a waste of time and it will always be that way. yet through all of this time, he didn't even realize he left someone else in the past.

yet you think we're the same

scaramouche doesn't notice your disappearance until it turns into months, maybe even more than that. well, it doesn't matter, if anything, this should help. he'll deal with the pain all by himself like he always does and it'll strengthen himself as he journeys to the birth of his becoming of a God. but why does it hurt moreso than usual?

scaramouche doesn't understand why he holds too many emotions. he doesn't want to have emotions and he never needed them in the first place. he believes it's a flaw, along with the other mistakes his creator made when making him. he doesn't understand why tears cascade down his face in an uncontrollable state as he curls up on the bed, void of anyone's warmth.

starting at that point, he began to change into the pleasant yukata you sewed for him rather than his uncomfortable fatui attire. the scent of you still lingered in the cotton as he buries his nose into the material. scaramouche solemnly pulls away and looks around as if he just awoke from a bad dream.

"where are you... (y/n)?" kunikuzushi queries.

the skyline falls as i try to make sense of it all

kunikuzushi can hardly pay any attention to his fatui duties when he finally realizes your sudden disappearance from his life. you promised to stay by his side, and that you did, but where were you now? maybe you went down to the city and he simply didn't notice. although, your trips don't usually take this long.

kunikuzushi is aware he doesn't have a heart, so why, why is there an inexplicable pain in his chest where it's supposed to be? it hurts, he cries to himself at night as he recalls all of the innocent lives he took, their blood in his hands as he kept it to himself. a poor excuse for a God in the making...

he felt so useless and lost. how much time has past? for how long were you already gone? did you leave of your own accord? did someone else take you away? questions plagued his mind as he could hardly rest with such thoughts.

i thought i'd uncovered your secrets but, turns out, there's more

as time passes, he grows a temper that would make anyone turn the other way the moment they saw him. scaramouche is filled with nothing but loathe for this wretched teyvat he roams and the heavenly celestia that watches upon him. why did they take you of all people? what made you leave?

these are the type of things that he's thinking the second he sees you after lesser lord kusanali takes the gnosis away from him. he can't tell whether it's real, and in this case, it probably isn't. but he hasn't seen you in so long, he doesn't care if it's short lived. scaramouche allows himself to sink into your embrace, unknowing of the fact that he's falling to the ground after the wires of the machine detached from him.

"it hurts, (y/n). i don't want to be here anymore," he cries into the crook of your neck as you hush him, your fingers brushing through his hair. "you're the strongest i've come to known, my kunikuzushi. continue what you began for me. i'll be waiting for you."

a kiss is planted against his forehead and he awakes from his slumber.

you adored me before, oh my good looking boy.

in a frightened state, the wanderer looks left and right, searching for your whereabouts. it doesn't take him very long to find you, for you're sound asleep next to him. he slowly gulps and his hand hovers over your face in hesitation. dear teyvat and celestia above, can something go right for once? just this once, as he's suffered for so many years and he doesn't wish for it to continue.

your eyelids flutter open and he quickly retracts his hand. you look at him and your lips form a smile. the smile he came to love and missed for the longest time. then, you part your beautiful lips to speak, and your voice is as soft and gentle as ever. "what are you doing up so late, dear? you and the traveler have a busy day tomorrow, don't you?"

you ask as you gather all of your strength to sit up, still half-asleep. he struggles to release a sentence from his mouth, even a word would do good, but he just couldn't. his lips are agape as he marvels at your presence. you sleepily giggle, "oh, love. you can't keep slacking off, you know that, right? the traveler's little fairy... thing, paimon, is constantly talking about how you seem so lost in your thoughts all of the time."

"i..." a word. he finally speaks. "can i..." all of a sudden, tears begin to stream down his face and you're taken aback. "k-kunikuzushi, are you alright?" you question him in a panicking state as you're fully awake, sitting on your knees to examine his face. he takes it upon himself to hide his face in the crook of your neck, his arms slithering around your torso as he clings to you for dear life. his hands are clutching at you as if you were to disappear at any given moment, but it never happens.

the one and only time, can he feel relieved. his muscles aren't as strained anymore as he allows his frail body to make your embrace its home. you pause, your movements at a stop as your body is tense, but you rest your hand in his hair. "can i stay here? i don't feel like helping the traveler with whatever tomorrow..." he mumbles, hoping you'd say yes, at the very least. a chuckle escapes your lips.

"of course, love. we need more time alone, don't we? but for now, let's rest together." you pull away as he does and you slot your lips into his. he eagerly indulges in the kiss and his chest, though heartless, comes to be filled with a happy warmth that can cause a grin to break out onto his features. "rest with you... i need that, more than ever."

© scaralvr.

[yandere-kokeshi]

— How dare you?

Pairing: Yandere Douma x GN reader

Summary: While Douma is busy with other things, he has assigned a follower of his to watch you. But, what if they dislike you?

Warnings: Yandere behavior, details of decapitation, and a dead body, abuse towards reader (not by douma), threats.

The room was uncomfortable. It was quiet, odd… different from when Douma was here. 

You were used to his loud and teasing voice, physical touches that were too tight, and his playful tricks that always warmed your heart. But this quietness was…. A difference. 

“Nyaa~!! You’re so cute!” Douma expressed while pinching your cheeks — his grin showing off his very pointy teeth and reflecting eyes. You hummed in response, gently pushing off his pointy claws before rubbing your cheeks. “That hurts, Douma.” 

“I couldn’t help myself! You’re just so adorable,” He stated in excitement, his black crown tilting to the side with his head as his hand rested on his cheek, looking at you with his rainbow eyes. 

Your body and face were hurting, bruises forming from how mad and irritated the so-called ‘follower’ had hit you. When leaving, Douma had summoned a follower — a trusted woman who promised to adore and watch over you as he went out. 

But as the hours went on, the more irritated she was; looking at you with such hatred and jealousy. While you did try to make conversation with her, she never replied or did blunt ones; an occasional hum or a ‘yeah’ thrown your way. 

While she was quiet and ignoring you, she had left a few minutes ago to retrieve food for you. Which you were grateful for as you were hungry. 

It felt like hours — days even since Douma was gone. You wanted him here, gently caressing your skin as he kissed your forehead.

His sweet lotus and warm sun to an amber fragrance that always helps you calm down. 

“Your hair is so dirty, Douma-san,” You say loudly while helping with Douma’s hair, brushing the knotted blood and leaves stuck in his hair.

He hummed in response, leaning more into you as he let your mind run — either letting you know he listened to what you said, or simply agreeing with your statement. Who knows?

But, the minute he saw you looking at him in the vanity mirror, watching you smile to yourself while brushing his hair. It made him feel somewhat special — a feeling he’s never felt before. 

“You’re so mean!! Pet me, darling!” He states with a smile, his rainbowed eyes shining in the orange lamps nearby as he pulls your waist close to his face, which makes his teeth nip at your torso. 

A tear ran down your face, which you quickly wiped. Wondering how long you’ve been locked in this small, crowded room. You do miss him, don’t you? 

Suddenly, the shoji slammed open, causing you to flinch and let out a pity yelp. 

“Why are you still on the ground? You’re haori will get dirty.” The follower snickered.

She walked in and placed a food tray onto the small-lowered table, consisting of miso soup, soba, some side tangerines, and a rice bowl, along with a steaming cup of green tea. 

It looked somewhat appetizing.

“Eat up, this is all yur’ getting.” She stated while turning her back towards you, walking to the mirror to fix up her hair.

But as you continue staring at her, she makes direct eye contact with you in the mirror. 

Gulping, you looked away and averted your gaze to the floor, unsure of what to do. This is very awkward.

You heard a sigh coming from her, “Really? What a waste of food. Y’know, people would die for that kind of stuff.” She scoffed, almost unbelievable at you ‘wasting the food’. 

It’s not that you weren’t hungry — you very were. It’s just… you were intimidated by the woman.  

Hesitantly looking at the dish, you reached over and grabbed the tea, smelling the cup.

It was steaming — you felt it on your nose and cheeks, grazing against it. You were hesitant to drink it, it smelled off. 

“Stop worrying so much, it’s like I didn’t poison it!” The woman stated, pushing the drink more down your throat, forcing it to pass your sealed lips and into your mouth.

It burned. 

You couldn’t breathe. The taste violated your throat, burning and crawling at the insides as it went down.

It sunk into your tongue, choking and corking it.

You spat out the hot water, ruining your outfit and staining the floors. 

“Hey! Watch it!” She screamed.

“What is wrong with you!” She yelled at you again, getting up while brushing her dress that was drenched in hot tea. “You ruined it! Look at it, you imbecile!” 

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, coughing at the burning taste as your eyes water. “I– am, let me help!” Grabbing tissues nearby, you reached over to start dabbing at her clothing before she pushed you away.

Hitting the ground, you let out a small ‘ouch’ before yelling out in pain as the woman kneeled and grabbed your hair, yanking it back with a fist full of your hair. 

Struggling against her grip, you tried to scream but she slammed a hand over your mouth. 

“I’ll kill you right here and now!” She screamed at you, looking at you with her face turning cherry-red. “I don’t see why Douma-san likes you! You’re worthless, idiotic, and a piece of garbage that deserves to be burnt!”  

You stopped struggling. Tears soon form in your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You grasped her hands as they tightened against your scalp. 

“Please let me go, it was an accident!” You requested against her rough palms.

At this point, she went crazy. Her other fist balled up, making its way toward you with such speed that you didn’t even feel the wind graze against your skin. You expected — almost felt the punch. 

But, the hit never reached you. Instead, you were greeted with her entire arm being held in a tight grip by Douma’s hold. The sounds of the woman's failed gasps could be seen and heard.

“How dare you.”

Douma’s rage was indefinite. His eyes highlighted sharply in the lamps, and his veins and stoic face showed so violently as his fan was raised to his face, closing with the golden marks shining. 

“How could you say something so cruel, Kimiko?” He asked, his head tilting. His eyes were completely emotionless — a different look from how he looked at you. 

Her face dropped. A look of fear rose instead of anger. Immediately, she started stuttering, words failing to come out in a complete sense. “Do–uma! I’m so sorry, p-please forgive me!” 

But, her words were drowned out by the sounds of her bone cracking, her agonized screams shot through the room as she tried pulling away from his tight hold. But to no avail, he kept holding and tightening his shift to make sure she hurt. 

He continued crushing her arm, his face staying the same as she continued screaming.

Screams that were begging, pleading — horrifying sounds that were telling him to ‘let go!’ and ‘I won’t do it again!’. 

Finally, after what felt like an entirety, he let go. But continued staring at her with his emotionless eyes.

Stumbling upward onto your knees, you reached over and pulled his shirt; slightly catching his attention as you saw his hand twitch.

However, he ignored you.

Within a second, he raised his hand with his fan and blood splattered throughout the walls and floor. Her head was separated from her body, disappearing and exploding in confetti amongst the walls in deep red.

It happened so fast that you didn’t get the time to blink.  

“What else did she do?” He asked bluntly.

Turning towards you with an angered face — his veins popping out, his engraved number growing in size, and fangs barring with a slight hiss.

Although they immediately shrinked the minute he sees your stressed-out face. 

He reached down for you, in which you were swept into his big arms and carried to the bed. As Douma plopped you down onto the soft mattress, tears started forming in your eyes again, falling from the event that took place.  

The tears were wiped away with sharp fingers. As you reopen your eyes, you connect with bright ones.

Sitting down in front of you, Douma gently grabbed your face, turning it to the side to examine the forming bruise. 

“What else did she do while I was gone, hm?” He asked, but sounded more like a demand by the tone of his voice.

His playful tone came back, watching you as you reflexively pull at the damped haori.

He looked at the haori and saw what you were doing, which he grabbed it, and peeled it off from you.

“I’ll call the maids to clean this–” He smiled and hinted at the scene behind him, “–and get you some new clothes.” 

Suddenly, he grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips. He licked your finger, and you winced at the slight sting; not noticing you had gotten a cut. 

He giggled, laughing at your reaction. His hands slid behind your back and pushed you closer to his chest, making you lean on him. Taking a deep breath, you were assured of safety with his presence.

Feeling his slow heartbeat, it was calming — something you needed.

His chin lays on top of your head, his grip tightening as his other hand traveled to the back of your head, slightly massaging your sore spot.

“Nobody touches you without my permission.” 

—

Masterlist || Please support me as a writer by reblogging or commenting. It helps a bunch!

Do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate or copy my work.

[sweet-honey-tears]

The Eyes That Stared

GreekGod!Shoji x Fem!Reader

Thank you so much for this request and I’m so sorry how long this took. I hope this is okay and I hope you enjoy. This is loosely based off the myth eros and psyche.

Warning: Slight Self-deprecation, bullying(?)

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

It was strange, extraordinary. Such a large house, mansion, house? Shoji, or Lord Shoji-no he didn't like that. Shoji referred to it as a home, but it was more of a mansion to you. A little nobody from the village, your house was a one-room shared with your family. You were of marriage age, yet marriage seemed out of the cards for you. Not by your hand, of course; you'd love to settle down in your own home, with your husband in hand, and far from the village. "Too beautiful, too handsome, to everything." That's what the first man said, and the one after that, and that. You were just too beautiful for their eyes, so beautiful that they avoided and spoke ill of you.

"I heard she kissed a frog for the looks."

"she has the intelligence of the ground she steps on,"

"she's likely only useful to warm a bed."

The woman hated you, and the young men did too, for you took all the looks from the oh-so-handsome bachelors of your village. Ah yes, the black teeth, shit-smelling men of your village, the cream of the crop. Your eyes rolled as you rested against the plush white couch, body slumping and stretching to fill the lounge chair.

Your mind wandered more; the house's silence sometimes made it a challenge to relax. Without Shoji, the rooms felt bare and cold, and yet you'd never even seen Shoji. Yes, he was a god, but one that hid his appearance from you. "I don't wish to scare you," he said, and you simply nodded, pale-faced and scared at your first encounter.

The oracle had stated he was a hideous monster in "the eyes that stared". Yet such a monster was destined to be wed to a beautiful bride from your village. It gave you little humor that the village so willingly offered you as a way to appease the god to get his favor. Appease may not even be the right word. In no story, no matter how much you searched your mind, was Shoji ever angry. Few and far gods were like that. It seemed every god had a massacre behind them; a small village turned a bloody smear due to insolence. Right or wrong actions, most god's hands were stained with blood, except for Shoji. Not even the servants of the home seem to be scared of the man. They showed respect, of course, but the house had a quiet yet peaceful atmosphere. Never filled with dread or fear, as you experienced when Bakugo came by to speak to Shoji. The tension in the room and the fear was palpable and seemed to linger long after he departed. Maybe that was why the village jumped at the opportunity to get on Shoji's good side; most other gods were terrifying, their hands dripping with the blood of villages that offended them, that didn't meet their demands. But Shoji, his so-called 'demand,' your village was willing to give. But give up a singular person, one who seemed to cause unrest among suiters, well, that was easy to give.

And so, you were taken to the cliffs and left there. You fought very little, if at all. The loneliness of your childhood and young adulthood left you with no life to yearn for. There was, however, a pit in your stomach, bubbling and gripping your lungs. "What if it's worse? What if life is hell?" You silently prayed to the gods, "please, let this not be worse."

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

You must have fallen asleep, for candles and lanterns were lit. The beautiful glowing bodies hung from the ceiling like stars, illuminating the room with their soft glow. It made your chest warm and tingle; Shoji added these for you once realizing the house's darkness was dreary and cold. He would be home by now; the thought made your chest flutter. Excitement, joy, you couldn't care to figure it out. It didn't matter; he was home, back from the prayers, and possibly your village. Your mind wandered back to the dusty place as you pushed up from the chair you'd been lying on. The soft white silks of your dress trailed behind you as you quietly walked.

Did Shoji bless them like they'd hoped? Had your 'sacrifice' satisfied their need for a god's attention. You laughed slightly; the image of your grasping village, pulling on the capes of whatever god they could reach for attention, was pitiful. Maybe a part of you was still stuck there, still bitter at how you were treated. Yet here you were, married to a god, in a paradise only a child could dream of. But you could hear their voices:

"You don't even know what your husband looks like."

"You married a monster, a monster. Ha! And you thought you were so much better than us."

You brushed off the thoughts. You were happy, so happy. You didn't know what your husband looked like; the world said he was a monster, and so be it. He was kind and gentle, he listened, he didn't hurt you. You smiled proudly at yourself; your prayers were answered, regardless of the dark age lingered.

You silently pushed open the door to the room. According to the many servants, Shoji typically stayed in this room after work. Their nervous glances at each other as you happily thanked them went unnoticed by your excitement. You poked your head into the room with a bright smile on your face. "Sho-," the words crumbled in your mouth. He stood there, body stiffening, in front of a large mirror. His extra arms stretched out, the gold bracelets and jewelry shining brightly. His face, even when tense, made your breath hitch. Your fingers twitched at the sight of the scars on his chin, yearning to rub them with your fingers as if to soothe the pain. Your heart ached at the thought that someone could do something to such a kind and gentle giant. You had seemed to catch him amid something; he looked startled by what the mirror's reflection showed. You crept more into the room, your body moving with impulse, standing a few feet from the door as you both stared. You watched his mouth creek open, sharp white teeth staring at you, and fear trickled up your spine. Was he angry? The thought was sobering, terrifying.

He spoke first, shattering the thin tension. "I'm sorry." His voice was small, cracked, and nervous.

"W-what?" Your voice shook, mouth dry. He crumbled in on himself, his extra arms wrapping around his body like a blanket, like a hug. Was he…?

"I know Im… Im not what you deserve. "He turned away from you, his eyes staring at the wall behind him. "I'm hideous, I know. I will keep the illusions on, I promise. You will not have to endure this…" You watch his body tense again. His voice dripping in disgust, "Thing"

"No!" Your words came out sharp and startled you. But your heart pounded and seized at the idea of not being able to see his face again. "Please don't," Your feet were quiet as you shuffled towards him. Your hand out and voice soft as if approaching a wounded animal. Your fingers brushed one of his arms, and you watched as he flinched. You struggled for words, trying to grasp the correct string to make him believe you. "I want to see you; I want to see the face of the man I love." Your voice was soft, and your fingers spread over his large shoulder blades. Feeling as the muscle slightly loosened at your words.

A small, saddening laugh slipped from his lips. His body straightened slightly, and he stood at full height, towering over you. You took a small step back, enough to give him room to stand fully and face you.

Your eyes scanned him, once again awestruck.

"You do not need to lie to me-"

"I'm not," your voice was sharp. Your hands reached up carefully, hoping to hold his face. Shoji's back hunched slightly, lowering himself just enough for your fingers to reach him. His eyes fluttered closed as your thumb ran over the long scars on his chin, fingers rising over the bumps and dips from the deep cuts. "You're so handsome, Shoji." Your words were like whispers as you stared at him. You are no monster; you are beautiful."

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

[hyqerfixation]

𝐈𝐬𝐞𝐤𝐚𝐢’𝐝.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

UPPERMOONS (upset gyokko and hantengu)X BROKE MODERN READER

////////////////////////////////

Part one.- also I’m not used to making story’s instead of one shots sorry y’all 🤞

-GIF MADE BY ME.

Female reader

Please reblog my work!!

Daki and Akaza first because they are my favs and they seem like they could be besties if they put their mind to it

Y’all let’s get into it 👅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Incompetent is the only valid word to describe you three right now.”

Akaza respectually bowed his head in shame,not daring to speak over his master.Whereas Gyutaro and his younger sibling Daki tried to decorously reason with Muzan,once he finished talking.

“B-but sir,we really did try to hunt all of them down,but then upper three came and they all scattered like mice!” Daki lifted her head to look up at observe his expression,only to see that he has gotten more perplexed.Muzan brought his hand to his face and pinched harshly at the bridge of his nose.

“I do not want this nonsense to happen again,do you understand?”muzan looked down and sneered.The thick sense in the room could choke the three uppermoons,they really have fucked up.

The three nodded.

“Yes sir.”

Just like that Muzan turned around,having his back faced towards the three.

“Nakime.”

Nakime was the shy lady who sat leg crossed on the floor.Her jet black hair covered most of her face besides her own mouth,she looked at her wooden biwa licked the tip of her finger and strung her biwa.With that a majority of shojis closed of. Making the figure of muzan disappear.With that,Muzans presence was gone.

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” Daki groaned,getting up and kneeling to turn towards Akaza.Only to be held back by the green and black hair Oni.

“Sister calm down” gyutaro tugged.

“You guys were struggling against 3 boys and a hashira? I just wanted to help a fellow moon” Akaza sighed,unbothered by Dakis shouts.

“ARE YOU MOCKING US?”

“Daki he’s like three ranks above us stop being annoying.”

Daki kept rambling on to Akaza,who was asking nakime to teleport him to where he was prior.

Once Daki was done having a temper tantrum.She sighed and stood with her arms crossesed firmly.

“Hey biwa lady, once you teleport Akaza-dono, take us back to the entertainment dis-“

POP!

Before gyutaro could finish his sentence daki disappeared into thin air.making a loud pop sound echo.

“What the fuck, biwa lady where did you teleport her”

Nakime laid down her biwa beside her carefully.

“I did not play my biwa,so there was no way for me to teleport her anywhere”

Akaza stood in stupor.He nor gyutaro could not feel dakis presence at all.

“If she did teleport she must be far.I cannot feel her aura.” Akaza commented

Gyutaro turned away from the two demons,his hands clammy and trembling, he clawed and attached his face gratingly. His worry starting show.

Akaza’s face softened slightly.Not wanting to let any of his guard down towards a rival. Akaza was about to comfort gyutaro, walking up to the lower ranked moon to put his hand on his shoulder,then suddenly.

POP!

gyutaro turned around quickly, hoping that Daki could have possibly have teleported back from that simular sound.Only his eyes to widen in shock to see that Akaza was now also missing.

“Biwa lady, did Akaza leave or did the same thing happen to him as Daki?”

Nakime only looked down in slight curiosity.She didn’t really care about the disappearances of her fellow allies. She just didn’t want the blame from the boss in the near future.

“No, he disappeared Along side with your sister.”

————————————————————————

A loud thud made noise with this creaking sound. Akaza slowly pushed him self up only to be on a-

Futon? No, this futon isn’t on the ground.it has a sort of, frame? Elevating it from the ground underneath.

Perplexed Akaza looked around in his surroundings. It seems he’s in a room with no shoji but with one or two windows. Akaza laid his eyes on the kyodai (a small vanity in the tashiō era). Although, Akaza noted that it seemed a lot more western;Infact the whole room seemed to be based on more western objects which was unrecognisable. Was he and Daki teleported to a different country?

He got of this weird different cultured futon as He looked at himself at the mirror.

‘Why are my kanjis gone? Same as the marks on my torso and face?’

Akazas hair was still pink and he still had stripes on his wrists. Although, as for his marks on his body. They suddenly vanished. While there isn’t no kanji in his yellow eyes: infact, his eyes weren’t yellow anymore.They were now an ocean blue, which Made him seem more human like. Akaza cautioned himself towards this opened wall.

‘I’m going to assume this is a western styled shoji, whatever if I find Daki we might be able to teleport the fuck out of here.’ Akaza thought to himself.Although, as soon as Akaza stepped into this hallway.

“HYAHHHHH”

Akaza suddenly turned around in the hallway. Barley dodging the frying pan that skimmed past his head. Only to dead pan when he noticed it was Daki.

“I MIGHT NOT KNOW WHERE I AM RIGHT NOW AND WHY I LOOK SLIGHTLY UGLIER BUT I WILL STILL KILL YOU IF YOU COME NEAR ME.RAH”Daki held multiple kitchen sources in her hand. As well as wooden spoons and plates.

“I CAN DO CLOSE COMBAT AND FAR RANGE COMBAT. TRY ME BASTARD IVE BEEN DOING THIS FOR CENTURIES.”

Akaza gaped blankly at daki. who had white hair and blue eyes with no kanji in sight.Yet she still had her revealing outfit on,the same outfit from normal.Also to add on it seemed that she was speaking clear English? Which was weird.Since the both of them was foriegn to the language.

“I MIGHT NOT HAVE MY BLOOD DEMON ART BUT I STILL HAVE MY FUCKING SASS” only to get more worried once the “stranger” in Akazas clothes come closer towards her

“Daki it’s me Akaza. I got teleported here to while trying to talk to your brother.” Akaza put his hands on daki shoulders.

“Oh, right I should’ve reconigsed your clothes. Sorry for nearly obliterating you Akaza-Dono”

“About that, I’ve realised that we are not demons anymore. Hence us having a different appearance and not dying from the sun light being brought in from these windows.” Akaza brought his hands down then brought one to his chin. He continued to think.

“Right! Akaza dono before I realised you were here I couldn’t do any blood demon art. Also I accidentally cut my hand on one of these blades I’m holding and I couldn’t regenerate!”

Daki showed her hand that still had the fresh cut.

“Right you need to patch that cutup Daki, We don’t know how fragile our human bodies are right now.”

Akaza held dakis wrist and walked around the place.It seemed to be a home of a human already, so Akaza looked cautiously.

“I think this is a bandaid. Put this on over the cut quickly. We need to find an exit out of here or something that could help us okay.”

Daki held akazas shoulder firmly. Making him turn to face her.

“What about my brother?”

“He will be just fine without you for now. We just have to find something that could get us back for now.”

Daki nodded her head. Trusting a higher ranked demon is more reasonable then freaking out like she did earlier.

————————————————————————

“Ughhh, we’ve been looking for ages now. All there is this dumb looking stuff!” Daki huffed, throwing an iPad onto the bed.Then walked towards the closet to see female clothes inside.

“This is the only room we haven’t looked at yet.just keep looking”

Akaza looked at picture frames and objects.He then continued to open the first draw and pull out a black bra.

Akaza sighed “another unkown western thing.Although it could be used as rope?”

Akaza turned to Daki, who snickered.

“Akaza-dono, I think that’s a western sarashi.”

(Sarashi was used to hold and cover the female and male chest in the tashiō era lmao)

Akazas face suddenly went red.Shoving the bra back into the draw and shut it.Face going even redder when he realised that there was loincloth in the draw aswell.

“Well Atleast we know the home owner is a female.”

Akazas eye twitched,

“Sure.”

Daki sat on the bed and grumbled.she looked up to Akaza who sat on the chair to the vanity.

“We are stuck Akaza-dono.it’s no use.”

Both Akaza and Daki began to sulk and look towards the floor.

It was silent until-

*keys jingle,click.*

Suddenly Daki and Akaza look at eachother in suprise.While Akaza slowly got up from the chair and walked to the edge of the door. Daki got up from the bed and followed closely behind his shoulder.Even though Akaza wasn’t as cool as her brother.She knows that Akaza was stronger then both of them combined;Making her feel safer behind him.She would never admit it though

Akaza and Daki peered around the corner.

The front door closed. Revealing a girl in a coat that’s been caught out in the rain. The H/C girl took her shoes of and went to the bathroom.Which was across the bedroom in the girls small apartment.

Y/N was broke.Making money of two jobs,one being a waitress at some fancy restaurant.Whereas her second job was working in a bakery.She owned a small apartment with only one bedroom and one bathroom.It was somewhat messy.Yet she never cleaned it though.

“Fuck”

Akaza muttered under his breath. He admitted the human girl was admirable. She might not look like the women or dress like the women from the tashiō era but none of that mattered, he still thought of her as pretty.

Same as Daki. She wouldn’t admit it but the girl that’s just came through that door was nearly as pretty as her.She wouldn’t admit that though.

Y/n started to walk towards her bedroom. Only to alert the duo

“Shit we need to hide.”

Daki and Akaza looked for a place to hide. Akaza hides under the bed while Daki decided to hide in the closet.

Y/N enters her room.

“What the fuck is the iPad doing in my bed? I haven’t used that in like a week?”

Y/N picked her iPad up and placed it back on her desk

“So like what? You’re telling me that you want to quit to be a vollyba player.What world are we in? Haikyuu?” Y/N chuckled to herself on the phone.

All Akaza could see from under the bed is feet.

Y/N picks her towel up from the floor and wraths it out.

“Right susumaru,I’ll call you later I’m gonna hop into the shower.Aha alright cya.”

Y/N places the phone on the bed while she walks out the room to take a shower.Akaza comes out from under the bed and looks at the device that Y/N was just on.

“Daki the humans gone”

Daki slowly comes out the closet holding a cute hoodie.

“I shouldn’t be hiding from humans:humans should be hiding from me” she groaned

“This clothing is so cute though.”

Akaza picked up the phone and in curiosity.He examines it up close.

“Daki don’t you think this is strange?”

Daki turned around.

“What do you mean?”

“We are humans.In a different country,We don’t understand it’s culture nor language but we understood that girl perfectly?”

Dakis eyes widen.walking to Akaza and putting the hoodie down onto the bed.

“Whatever’s happend to make us teleport it has changed up completely.what if we are in a different universe.”

Akaza turns on the phone.Completely distracted by this futuristic technology.

“Whatever’s happening,we need to get back home and inform master-“

Akaza was cut of by a scream.Which caught the two kizuki off guard. Making them both turn around to the girl standing in the hallway.

The girl tried to run towards the door. Since Y/N couldn’t call the police on her phone since that weird emo guy had it.She had to get out quickly. Maybe use somebody else’s phone to call the police.

Although her idea came to an halt when a hand came over her mouth.

“Look human.We don’t know why we are here either,we are just as scared as you are”

Y/N bit as hard as she could on akazas hand causing him to let go of her mouth. Although he still had his other arm slung around her waist and Daki kept hold of her shoulders, causing her to stay put.

“Look I don’t give a shit about your weird roleplay and cosplays but I’m not into this! so get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the cops!”

“AKAZA-DONO SHES CALLING RE-ENFORCEMENTS IN! WHAT DO WE DO!?!”

Akaza loosened his grip around you and closed in onto Y/Ns ear.

“Look lady, me and my ally really don’t want to hurt you at all.Will you sit down and listen to us,please?”

Y/N seeing how they don’t have any weapons nor seem to have any threat. She decided to come to an agreement.

“Out of safety,I will only listen if you guys stay Across the room from me.So I know you won’t hurt me.”

Akaza let go around her waist and looked her up and down.aHe grabbed Dakis shoulder causing her to let go of you too.

“Of course.”

Y/N walks towards her own bed and plops herself down on it.She grabs hold of her phone tightly while signalling the two to go on the other side of the room.

“Go and stand infront of the closet.”

Daki grumbled and rolled her eyes.

“How can a girl so pretty be so bossy”

Akaza pulled her alongside him to the closet.

“You are one to talk Daki” Akaza bluntly spoke.

Infront of the closet Daki and Akaza stood. Akaza shrugged his shoulders

“Is this fine enough for you lady?” Akaza questioned.

Y/N crossed her legs and rested her hands together.

“Yes.now fucking explain to me why two people broke into my house in some weird roleplay? Not only that why do you keep calling me a human like you guys aren’t human yourself?”

Daki chuckled

“Well actually human, we aren’t”

Y/Ns eyes broaden while she laughed

“You what? I don’t seem to understand? Are you guys still roleplaying even though I threatened to get the cops involved?”

Akaza begings to explain what happend from the beginning.

————————————————————————

“Right.. so the two of you got isekai’d?” Y/N pondered.

Akaza and Daki looked at eachother in confusion

“What’s that?” Daki asked

Akaza turned his head side ways in bewilderment and stared blankly towards Y/N.

“Isekai’ is where like…how do I explain it, it’s where people gets teleported to another universe whether it be a game universe or a movie universe.”

Dakis mouth was agape.making an ‘ohh’ sound.Akaza just crossed his arm and look to the side.

“I guessed that’s what happens to us then.”

Akaza turned to look at you.with slightly blushed cheeks.

“Do you,perhaps know how we could get back”

Y/Ns face blanked.Were these lunitics serious? She stood up from the bed and grabbed the two demons roughly and started to drag them towards the door.Akaza and Daki was just bewildered.

Y/N stopped at the wooden front door.

“Look,you two seem really nice and you guys kept me company which I do appreciate.although your both crazy and I think you guys need mental health if you guys genuinely think whatever this magic phenomenon that’s going on is real.”

Y/N gave them a gentle shove outside the door.

“Look I really don’t have time for this I have to have a shower then get ready to go to bed.I now only have four hours to sleep until I have to get up to the bakery tomorrow morning.”

Daki and Akaza frowned at her comment.

Y/N yawned and looked past the two who seemed desperate. To see it’s starting to get darker and darker outside.She couldn’t help but feel like shit leaving two mentally I’ll people to walk by themselfs in the dark.she wouldn’t want to be responsible for whatever happens to them;yet she doesn’t want to keep them inside her small tiny apartment.

‘Damn you self conscious’ y/n thought to herself.

“If it makes you two more comfortable I can order you guys an Uber? To any place you want I’ll pay for it.”

Akaza looked behind him and thought to himself what an Uber was while daki irritated started to twitch her eye.

“Look stupid human, we don’t know where we are we need to get back home!”

Daki thrailed her arms around the place.Starting to think about gyutaro.She started to become more and more upset.

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. At this point she just wanted to slam the front door in their faces.she wont though since She will feel bad afterwards.

“Well if you don’t know where you are how about I get you a god damn Uber to the closet police station. They can get you back home.”

“No;No,No”

Akaza rejected shaking his head. He pointed at y/n .

“Look lady, you said we were isekai’d. That means not a simple police station can get us home. We got teleported into your home.There must be an exit in here somewhere.”

“Yeah outsmart her smartness akaza!” Daki added on

Y/N now irritated decided to leave all her morals tonight.

*SLAM*

Y/N shut the wooden door on Daki and Akaza and locked the key whole.

“People just get weirder and weirder everyday.”

Before y/n went to go and turn the shower on, the shower she was supposed to be finished with two hours ago. She turned around and looked through her doors peep hole.Only to see Akaza sat on the apartment complex floor and Dakis upper half leaned over the apartment balcony crying.

Y/N felt alittle guilty.

“I’ll call the cops to help them.there’s nothing o can really do to help them,there delulu” y/n considered.

Her thoughts stopped abruptly when a loud-

POP!

Y/n stood baffled when a white blonde teleported and fell onto the floor. He seemed tall.He also had weird clothes on like the other two from before.Having a red turtle neck and weird beige pants. With socks and…SANDLES?ew.

“What the fuck.”

She cautiously walked to the guy now on the floor to see that he’s unconscious,Y/N squatted down next to him and blow wind his face.

“Hello? Why did you just teleport into my living room?”

She checked to see if he was alive by checking his heart beat-

Wait.

“Me and Akaza are demons lady,so what” y/n remembered what Daki said earlier.She didn’t want to believe them but when a big weird looking dude just randomly teleports into thin air in you living room things seem a lot more believing.

For fuck sakes.

————————————————————————

The door clicks open. Only for Daki and Akaza to see Y/N inviting them back inside.

“I think I understand what you guys were on about now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TASHIŌ SECRET!!

Y/N actually has another side gig to make money!!She is also a babysitter on some weekends.

She babysits a rich woman’s baby. Which actually gives her a good amount of cash.

———

I hope you guys enjoyed this!! This is my first story so idk if it really makes sense or not. Either way I make these for fun so pls no hate 🙇‍♀️🤞

Love y’all❤️

NOT PROOF READ YALLLLLL

[nuttytani]

Tails Of Trouble

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Mitsuhide Akechi x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: Cursed

Word Count: 666

A/N: An easter egg for the Ikemen Flash Exchange, The Fair Returns event; hosted by @flash-exchange.

Something was amiss, something was strange, something was not right.

His body felt far too tight; skin taut over dense, large bones. They had an unfamiliar weight than usual, pressing against vital organs, constricting the path of air to his lungs, he had to drag in every breath. Even the air in his room was unbearable. Too much for his senses — the aroma of his mild woody and sweet incense seemed sharp for his nose. The wisp of smoke curling above the dimmed oil lamp burned his eyes.

Now, Mitsuhide was not one to be frightened so easily, yet whatever was happening to him had thoroughly scared him.

In reflex, his hand reached out to touch the other side of his futon, where his lover slept. He was relieved to sense the warmth radiating through their sleepwear. Indeed, they were with him. With a shaky sigh, he moved closer and pushed away the stray hair falling in front of their closed eyes.

Before he could take a moment to admire their sleeping face, he noticed something furry where his hand should be.

White and small, with sharp black claws. Mitsuhide turned it around, it did not have fingers. It was not a hand; it was a paw… An animal paw. Eerily similar to Chimaki’s, he knew very well since he had tended to her injured ones multiple times. Mitsuhide proceeded to look down, he had a matching pair of paws down there as well, with a fluffy tail.

An undignified yelp echoed in his room. The sound was piercing for his ears, so he scrambled back, or tried to at least. His limbs were tangled up in their shared blanket. The more he moved, the more he got tangled, though finally, he escaped the blanket’s maze and landed outside the futon, and on his sensitive tail. As expected — another pitiful yelp had escaped his mouth.

Once Mitsuhide caught his breath, he looked up for a brief moment, only to be greeted with sleep-laden eyes that soon widened with shock.

Oh, and now he had disturbed his little one’s sleep. How shameful. Not wanting to show more of his new appearance, Mitsuhide ran out of the room and hid behind the shoji.

“Mitsuhide? Is that you?” his lover asked. Though he wanted to answer, he held himself back.

After what seemed like seconds, Mitsuhide’s ears could pick up the distinct sharp sound of a fire-striker being used, followed by a soft thud. Their room was now lit, and he could see the telltale shadow of his lover, slowly moving out of the futon.

His lover was astute as ever and figured out his hiding spot. They crept towards the shoji. “Mitsuhide… Are you alright?” they asked, with concern, standing on the opposite side.

Again, he did not answer. If he did, all that would come out of his mouth would be loud barks and screams.

“You know, you’re not hiding that well. I can see your tail,” they said. “Moving it away doesn’t change the fact that I saw it! Not good at hide and seek are you, my dear?”

Mitsuhide did not like the teasing tone that his lover used, he could tell that they were having a blast laughing, and their shadow was shaking far too much. With a yelp, he padded out from behind the shoji and glared hard.

“Awe, looks like my husband is angry,” they smiled and cradled his body. “I’m just as confused as you are. I can’t believe my kitsune has turned into an actual kitsune!” Mitsuhide bit their finger in response, lightly so as not to break skin.

His little one fake frowned and flicked at his nose. “Behave yourself Mitsuhide, otherwise I’ll let you be stuck as a fox forever!” To placate his love, Mitsuhide licked at the finger he bit. “That’s more like it. Tomorrow I’ll ask Kyubei to find a good curse-lifting monk, they should be able to help you. Meanwhile, you’re stuck being my pillow.”

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Ikesen taglist: @yarnnerdally @natimiles

[simpforchuchu]

Betrayal | Fujio x reader

a/n: Hi, if you like it there is gonna be second part dont worry :’)

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: usual hnl warnings

Part2

The young girl, unaware of the person watching her, counted the money she received and watched the person she met leave. After making sure that the money was the right amount, she put it in her pocket and sighed.

“Fujio! I know you are there. You can get out!”

The young girl knew from the very beginning that Fujio was watching her from behind the wall. She just thought it would be more fun if she didn't say anything.

Y/n collected information for Sword gangs and schools. She sold this information to the leaders of the schools for money. That's why she was such a popular girl. Her slightly cocky and self-assured demeanor and bold character made her more interesting. She was pretty too, but she usually wore shabby outfits so no one would notice her.

Fujio came out from behind the wall where he was hiding, scratching his neck and smiling, and stepped towards the girl who was grinning at him.

“Y/n-chan! What a nice surprise!”

Y/n rolled her eyes, then shook her head with a smile.

"May I ask why you're spying on me?"

Fujio smiled like a mischievous child. He replied, referring to the person the girl had met.

“I don't like that boy. I had a bad feeling. I wanted to be sure you were safe.”

Hearing the same explanation again, the young girl smiled and shook her head.

Y/n and Fujio had met a long time ago. Even though Y/n did this in anonymity back then, she was quite brave now. They met again after Fujio became Oya's leader. And everyone was sure that Fujio had a crush on y/n.

“You know I can protect myself, if anyone sees you spying on me, people's trust in me will be damaged.” She said smiling. Fujio slowly nodded and gave a small apology.

They were walking to Oya high school together, unaware of those watching them. This time they were truly unaware.

“I heard somethings in other schools these days. I don't have clear information yet, but I suggest you act cautiously."

Fujio stopped his steps, turned to the young girl, and grinned at y/n,

“Are you worried about me y/n-chan?”

Y/n smiled and brought her face closer to Fujio's. Both were smiling at each other. The young girl suddenly hit Fujio's leg hard, and Fujio started jumping in pain in his place.

“What was that for now!?”

“Be serious Fujio, something is not right. You should be more careful.”

Fujio stopped when he saw the seriousness on the young girl's face. Y/n would only be this serious when she felt something wrong. And her feelings were quite strong. However, he decided to think about it later, he didn't want to talk about it right now.

“I guess you're not making good money these days y/n. You're pretty nervous"

Y/n laughed and shook her head at what Fujio said while laughing

“I still have a lot more money than you Fujio”

Fujio shrugged and grinned as the young girl said with a smile.

“Then you are buying the ramens y/n”

***

Y/n nervously descended the stairs of the place where she was told. She had known for some time that something big was going on, and she was going to find out what was going on today. She had a bad feeling and did not trust Saboten at all.

She was quite surprised when she entered the place. Kamasaka and Ebara were also here. She looked at the black-haired and blond-haired boy sitting across from the Saboten. There was a strange atmosphere. When her gaze met with Reiji Himuro, the young boy offered a sly grin and nodded. Y/n slightly nodded her head and sat down opposite the Saboten, ignoring Ebara's leader Shoji, who was looking at her seriously on the sidelines.

The young girl was not afraid. One wrong move, she knew everyone here was pretty dangerous. But she was not afraid. Because she knew they needed her.

Saboten talked for a while—without giving too much detail- He told her that she could get the money she wanted, he just wanted her to tell him what she knew about Oya, where they were hanging out.

Y/n crossed her legs and leaned back after listening to the boy across from her. She asked with a smile,

“I think it will be a big job.”

Kohei was watching the young girl intently, he smiled at what she said and stood up. He stood in front of the table and looked at the young girl.

“Amagai, Kohei Amagai. I am the leader of Senomon."

Y/n slowly stood up,

“You can call me y/n, but I guess you already know.”

Kohei smiled and nodded,

“You're pretty popular y/n-chan. You are good at your job and I always work with the best.”

Y/n was sure that the young boy was not such a kind and nice person. She didn't know him, but she knew the rumors about him. She was sure he was trying to impress her because she was just a girl now and he needed her.

Y/n smiled and looked confidently into the blonde boy's eyes.

“You want everything from me about Fujio Hanaoka, right?”

Kohei nodded, Ryo and everyone in the room were watching the duo carefully.

“Okay, Amagai-kun. I collect information about schools in this area. I work with informants. I even know secrets that no one knows. And I'm doing it for the money."

Kohei was pretty sure that the young girl would accept his offer.

“But Oya High is different. Fujio is someone I wouldn't betray for money. So I have to turn down your offer.”

Y/n didn't know about Kohei's plan, but she was sure that something bad would happen. Besides, she didn't like this smug bastard. Still, she wanted to leave without any problems when there were disgusting people like Kamasaka leaders in the room.

Kohei smiled and took a step closer. Shoji and Ryo watched them with full attention. Reiji was quite pleased with the daring demeanor of the young girl.

“I guess I didn't explain myself well y/n. It's not a request, if you think you have another chance, you're wrong.”

Y/n wiped the smile off her face and looked seriously at the Senomon leader.

"What will you do? I guess you forget that I have some pretty strong friends.”

Kohei smiled and opened the small knife in his pocket and held it to her throat. Y/n was looking seriously at the blonde leader as everyone looked at him in surprise.

Kohei knew that the young girl was not afraid, although she would never show it. But he had a better plan.

“You have stupid guts don't you y/n-chan? You didn't even startle." Shoji was watching the expression on the young girl's face, unchanging, not even blinking.

“How would your poor mother feel if she found out that you were making money for her meds with your stupid guts?”

The expression on Y/n's face changed for the first time, it was the first time she was looking so different. It wasn't fear, it was more like anxiety.

"You…"

Everyone in the room held their breath.

“I know you need money. If you give me what I want, I will pay for all of your mother's treatment."

Kohei smiled as Y/n glared at him.

"Come on! Don't hate me so much. I'm giving you a great offer."

She didn't even care about the knife pressed to her throat. But this…

"I don't want it, I don't need your money."

Kohei smiled and pulled the knife from the young girl's throat. He folded it and put it in his pocket. He shook his head slowly and suddenly wrapped his fingers around the young girl's throat.

Ryo nervously stood up but didn't do anything.

“Then let me tell you y/n-chan. If I don't get what I want, I'll make sure no doctor is taking care of your mother. And rest assured, it won't even take me 5 minutes to do it."

Y/n had a scared expression on her face for the first time. For the first time, the expression on her face had changed. And it was certainly not because of her throat squeezing.

There was silence for a while. Y/n thought about her mother for a while. Then Fujio. She knew he would hate her. Fujio liked her. But there was something else that nobody knew, y/n liked him too.

But it was her mother that was in question, even though y/n knew she would lose Fujio forever, she had to do it.

The young girl slowly lowered her head and spoke in a low voice.

“Okay…I will accept…”

Kohei asked with a smile.

"I can not hear you."

Y/n angrily raised her head and looked into the young boy's eyes.

"I said fine, I'll tell you everything I know."

***

Regret is a very heavy feeling. But regret for betraying someone… Y/n hasn't spoken to anyone since then. As Amagai said, he deposited a large amount of money in her account and she took her mother to the hospital that night. But while she stayed with her mother in the hospital, she continued to get news about everything.

Oya was seriously attacked. Tsukasa had been kidnapped. Most of the students were seriously injured. All of them were caught off-guard, unexpectedly. And what y/n said played a big part in this attack...

Y/n had also seen Housen’s Shidaken when she was leaving that day. She just nodded and quickly walked away. But she didn't know that they were going to put Shidaken in the hospital right after she left, and even though it wasn't her fault, she was now blaming herself for everything.

She didn't know what situation Fujio was in. She hadn't seen him for a week. She hadn't asked anything about him, she just knew that he had won the fight and was in good physical shape.

She was walking home to buy clean laundry for her mother. She hadn't smoked in a long time, but for the past week she had been finishing up almost a pack a day. Seeing that there were no cigarettes left in her pack, she angrily squeezed the pack in her hand, crushed it, and slipped it into her pocket. After she turned the corner, she took a few more steps and she met the person she was afraid to see.

Fujio was also surprised to see her. But the confused expression on his face changed within seconds. There was an expression on his face that she could not understand. Hate ? Disappointment ? Sadness? Y/n didn't know what it was, but she was sure she hated seeing it.

They looked at each other for a few minutes.The distance between them was not too long, neither of them said anything. Y/n was unresponsive, trying hard to hide her facial expressions.

Fujio and Todoroki were walking over to Tsukasa’s home. Todoroki only knew y/n by name, but he doesnt have to be genius to understand from Fujio's reaction that it was her.

Y/n slowly started to pace, walking past Fujio without saying a word. But after a few steps, Fujio called out.

“Aren't you going to say something? Anything ?”

Y/n listened to Fujio without turning around. His voice was quite broken, it hurt her heart.

“Why y/n? I just want to know why. Weren't we friends?"

Y/n stood silently. She just stood there.She couldnt even move.

“Did he threaten you? Shidaken told me he saw you with them that day. Did they do something to you? Look, if that's how…”

Fujio believed that y/n had a reason. He didn't want to admit that she had betrayed him. But the young girl's silence proved that everything was true. This angered Fujio even more. And his tone changed.

“So it was true… you really did.”

Y/n felt nauseous, there was a pain in his chest.

"You did it for the money, didn't you?"

Wasn't it true? Why did that word hurt so much?

“You betrayed me for money. Do you know how many people were injured? What did they do to Tsukasa?"

When Y/n didn't answer, Fujio couldn't take it anymore and shouted.

"Damn it! Say something, now! Come on say ‘I didn't! You're wrong’ Say something y/n! Arent you gonna even defend yourself? ”

Y/n couldn't take it anymore and turned to Fujio with cold stares. Fujio was a little taken aback by the young girl's seriousness.

“What do you expect me to say, Fujio? You want me to say no it wasnt like this?"

Fujio gulped, waiting for her to regret, an apology. He knew that if she apologized, he would forgive her.

“What you heard is true. Yes, I did it for the money. Yes, I told them what I know.” Y/n sighed, her expression was so cold and confident that Fujio was watching her in surprise. Didn't he know her at all? “Why are you surprised Fujio? Haven't I earned my whole life like this? For years I've been selling information for money, selling people. Yes I betrayed you… But… What separates you from them?”

Fujio wanted to cry at the last sentence he heard. He was offended, broken, sad but now he was even more angry. He clenched his fist to stay calm. Todoroki was watching the two of them right behind Fujio. Even though he didn't know the young girl, he was sure that something was wrong. Fujio was only looking at her face, but the young girl was tense all over her body.

Fujio smiled and shook his head. He looked into Y/n's eyes and calmly replied.

“I don't blame you y/n. It was my fault for trusting you."

Fujio turned around and left without saying anything. Todoroki looked at the young girl once more and followed Fujio.

Y/n did not react. She couldn't. She knew she had lost him forever, and it was all her fault…

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx @satraninalane @thatpoindexterpixy

[aiysan2]

'Tell me something Dirty' Shoji x reader

1.5k

Get the full fic on wattpad

Peer-pressure, drugs, needles, blowjob if there is anything i missed let me know

He didn't know you knew so many people, they swarmed the house like flies. He stayed in a corner Tokoyami had found Tsuyu and they were probably having sex in one of the many rooms that you had.

He wanted to be around you, the only other person whom he felt closest to, but had lost you when the 40th person had walked through the door. Now he was sat outside your locked room, refusing alcohol from his classmates.

" Just try some Shoji it'll help you cool off." Todoroki offered waving a bottle of vodka in his face while leaning on a drunk Midoriya, and super sober Iida.

"I really am ok." He insisted for what felt like the umpteenth time of the night.

"It's good to see someone keep their principles in order." Iida congratulated despite his very out of character sexy policeman costume.

"Thank you Iida," Shoji grumbled standing from his spot and putting one of his tentacles next to Iida's ear so he could hear him better. " Have you seen y/n anywhere?"

"Dancing in the basement probably."

Why would anyone dance in a basement?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's why.

Shoji looked around the large room that spanned the whole plan of the house, strobe lights and loud electronic music playing by Hanta Sero the self appointed DJ. As he walked in a middle aged women who he assumes was one of your maids used her hands, that stretched out, (her quirk probably) to put a glow stick necklace on his neck.

He wondered how he would be able to find you in the large body of gyrating teens especially in the large dark room lit up by strobe lights and glowsticks.

It seemed he had to find you quickly, just to let you know he was going.

He remembered your costume, the well fitted black lingerie set that you convinced yourself was a costume with the long black cape. Using his quirk he created a web of eyes searching the crowd for you. It didn't take long, you had removed your cloak dancing with the handsome Yuga Aoyoma.

He wafted through the crowd going to the place that you were stood earlier drums splitting as the bass rattled the floor and vibrated his body.

"Y/n." He called, still not getting your attention as you continued dancing on Aoyoma.

"Y/n!" He tapped your shoulder, still not getting your attention as you thought it was someone bumping into you.

"Y/n!" He screamed, pulling both your shoulders and turning you to him.

You had a look of shock, then smiled at him a large dopey smile.

"Shoji what's up!" You yelled over the music.

"I'm going home now." He stated his 'mouth' near your ear so you could hear him clearly.

You shook your head, frowning at him as if he had just offended you.

"You cant do that Sho, please stay." You begged, your eyes pleading pouring your lip in a weird attempt to look cute.

"I'm not really enjoying myself." He pressed, feeling someone's Edwards scissorshands costume poke his back. "It's just not my scene."

" But you haven't seen the cinema, or the pool or my cosy little VIP room."

You pressed yourself closer to him tracing hearts on his chest staring at his face as your hand slowly moved towards his dick, feeling the way he twitched when you pressed into it.

'pervert' you thought, rubbing him through his trousers, watching the way his eyes thinned as he glared at you.

"Do you want me to show you my VIP room sir? " Your voice sultry hoping he got your gist even if he couldn't hear you properly. " I promise I'll make it worth your while."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were back in your own room, kneeling against a wall, Shoji stood tall in front of you as you had his cock in your hand.

Maybe it was the drugs, because otherwise you wouldn't have talked yourself into the impossible mission of giving him head. It just felt right, he was always, well those three times, touching you, and you had rarely touched him.

He held his shirt up, brows furrowed, one hand was resting on the wall behind you, the other stroking your head as if he knew the calculations you were trying to do to fit him in your mouth.

You were infact trying to figure out if you could transform to a snake halfway without your dagger sharp teeth, so you could unhinge your jaw no problem.

You remembered with Bakugou, he could never be to rough when it came to you giving him head, otherwise your teeth would enlongate and you could scratch up his dick. Now you were trying to figure out what to do if your teeth did scratch him.

He was being so gentle with you, slowly rutting his cock in your hand and reassuring you.

"Sho what if it can't go in my mouth?"

"Why do you want to stop?* He asked moving back so his dick would slip out of your hand.

"Wait no," your hand reaching out towards him, " I wanna do it I'm just nervous." You admitted.

He walked over to you leaning over so his face was by yours "Don't worry I've got you."

"Just don't laugh," you mumbled. You leaned forward sticking your tongue out to catch his tip. Your tongue swirled around him, licking the precum pearling at the end.

Your hands gripped his thighs keeping yourself steady, opening your mouth and welcoming him in, it was hard you could definitely admit that, looking at him to see if he was enjoying himself.

You couldn't tell, his chest was rising and falling but his face was blank, his eyes not wide or narrow just staring at you intensely.

Only his tip had entered your mouth, you felt scared to allow anything else in as his size might suffocate you or the pressure might be to much. He was so heavy.

You tried again letting more of him in, your eyes watering, your jaw aching as you allowed him in, his mass hitting the back of your throat making you retract immediately.

"I-im sorry it's just very thick." You apologised, right hand stroking him to make up for the loss of contact.

"It's ok, try again." He encouraged wanting your mouth wrapped around him choking on him as he bullied it into your mouth. Of course he would never do that, not when you were having so many doubts of choking on him.

You stuck out your tongue welcoming him back in again opening your mouth as wide as possible while hollowing your cheeks. He hit the back of your throat again, but this time you didn't give up instead sucking him off, just like you had promised. The rest of him stayed in your hand jerking him off in hopes to satiate the lack of wetness around it.

You watched him watch you hoping to get more of a reaction than just his deep breaths and panting, you wanted to see it in his eyes, a carnal lust letting you know that you were doing a good job.

You maned up staring at his pelvic and prepared yourself, slipping him out of your mouth, before unhinging your jaw and taking his entirety down your throat.

"Y/n, fuck." He groaned him grabbing some of your hair to push you on him at his pace. He rutted into your aperture, your nose brushing the trimmed bed of pubes on his pelvis and his heavy balls slapping your chin.

Tears balled down your face as you fought the urge to gag around him, he was vocal now, his groans fighting the sounds of the music. His pupils had dilated with voracious fervor, he couldn't leave your gaze, he loved looking at your mouth so full of his cock, tearing up because of the size.

"You're so fucking good for me y/n."

His hips very keen, moving faster chasing the addictive stimulation of an orgasm. His head lulled back forcing himself into your throat before he twitched, a heat spreading through his body stilling him until it reaches his cock, dumbing out thick ropes of his arousal into your mouth.

He pulled out rubbing himself as he finished on your face, you clearing your throat as you let the air fill your lungs. You caught some of his excretion on your tongue, although most of it got on your face.

Shoji slouched over you, resting his body on the wall to catch his breath. You wiped your face with your hand laughing slightly at the situation.

"What?" He asked wondering why you were giggling.

"You came so much." You stated as if it was so funny.

He didn't get it.

He rolled his eyes.

"I don't get it." He shrugged rolling to the side and sitting next to you on the wall. He brought one of his hands up to your face to help you wipe it better.

"I'll help you get it." You told him.

You stood up going to the table were the syringe of hours before had laid untouched waiting for someone to come and collect it.

You sat down in front of him between his outstretched legs holding your hand out for his arm.

"I said I don't want to do it." He complained referring to your earlier conversation.

"Mate I just gave you head, the least you can do is have a little something." You said. He gave you his arm at that, " and it's totally medicinal and stuff, doctors use it to cure depression."

It wouldn't be bad for him to let loose a while, especially if he had to endure your overwhelming party.

[tonixe]

"𝐀 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞"

n.o.t.e.s - The animate version of Doma got my toes curling.

w.a.r.n - penetration, creampies, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), non-con.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - Douma x Fem!human reader

w.c. - 1.2k

You remember your childhood like it was yesterday, living in debt by your parents. Sitting down on the grass, with your dirty kimono and hair, was messy as well.

Your parents were in debt, barely able to afford food for you and your siblings, working day and night for you while you helped with your siblings until your parents sold you off to the Ogimoto house. While you sat down at the wooden vanity, you removed white powder off your face.

It wasn't hard for you to climb the ranks of the Ogimoto house; it was preferably easy because of your beauty which tricks many of your clients into spending a lot in the house.

You were now a high-ranked Oiran, earning the Ogimoto house honor for your beauty and body. Rubbing off the red pigment off your lips, staring at yourself in the mirror with your bare face, gently touching your skin.

Here you are, looking at your raw beauty in the mirror, covered by powder and makeup, the top of your yukata slipped down to your shoulders, showing pieces of your skin. Unsurprisingly, your beauty was a weapon against other houses, your price went up, and your demand was higher than other Oirans in the red-light district, making the Ogimoto house busy with business.

Before you got to stand up, you heard the sliding shoji door open. A silvered head man walked into the room, he wore a black-to-red kimono. "Oh, I thought Daki was here" he exclaimed, flicking his golden fans over his face, his multi-colored eyes staring at you menacingly.

Your screams were still in your chest, as your heart was pumping fast, "But you're a too beautiful and for me not for me to enjoy"

"W-who are you" you yelled, crawling back until you hit your head on the surface of the wall, you manage to take one of your sharp hair pins. your eyes still on the silvered-head man. He walked towards your shaking body.

"Does it really matter" he cooed at you, cocking his head to the side, giving you a eerily smile.

Before you can even protect yourself, he was face to face with you holding your throat. You tried to pry his hand from your throat but failed too, struggling to find your breath.

"Be a doll, and don't scream" he whispered into your ear, your eyes staring at him in fear.

"Nod if you understand, darling" he demanded, you reluctantly nodding to his demands, his grip off your throat

"Now, beautiful, you'll do what I say before I consume you. Take your clothes," he said, gently cupping your face, his sharp fingers grazing your cheek, making a little cut on the cheek, soon licking the blood droplet.

You obeyed what the demon said as you trembled to remove your yukata, His multicolored eyes looking at you while you stripped yourself of your clothes, every piece of it.

The last fabric slipped off, showing your bare body to the silvered-head demon.

The rainbow-eyed demon licked his lick, as he saw your bare body in a display of him, your hands fisted in a ball. You were too smart to go against the strong demon, but the aura of the said demon gave you a bad feeling, especially with the kanji that look to be carved into his eye.

The number two.

You never saw a demon before, but from your first encounter, there were fearful beings.

The silver-head demon walked to you and cupped your face, he force you to look into his colored eyes, "You are gorgeous, maybe even tastier than most women, what's your name" the demon exclaimed.

"Y-Y/N" you stumbled out,

"Y/N" He tested it out, "Y/N-chan" he smiled at you, before he placed his hands on your bare shoulder, looking at you up and down, "Daki wasn't lying how beautiful you are, you sure look like a oiran"

"My name is Doma, Y/N-chan" he analyzed you and your name body.

You could barely even respond, how quick his fingers were already side you, before you got pressed on the wall.

You stumbled a moan out, from the quick action.

Your breast up against his chest, his finger plunging further side you, before pulling it out of you, giving a quick lick of his fingers.

"Your even more delicious, Y/N-chan" he looked at you with lust covered eyes.

The beating of your heart seemed to be growing rapidly near him, "Y/N.." Doma said, before he cocked his head to the side.

"...Turn around and bend over" he demanded, giving you a creepy smile.

You obey Doma, bending yourself to the walk, gripping your hands to the wall, exposing more of your parents to the demon.

It felt like the tension in the room could be sliced with a knife, before you felt his hands taking both your hands with one of his own pressing it to your bare back, forcing your body into the wall, your breast squished into the shoji wall.

You watched his movement with the corners it your eyes. The noise of a belt coming off, made your body tremble.

It was normal for you in the district with your clients, but you never did this with a demon nevertheless.

You felt him lining up to your entrance, his member splitting you open, the searing pain in your cunt. The simmering pain, as you tried to just to his size.

Your walls fluttered around his cock.

His hips rolling into yours, jackhammering in your pussy, you felt the pain in your lower region, hitting your lips.

"Fufufu, who knew your this wet for me, y/n-chan~" he whispered into your ear teasing you, he licked the tops of your ears.

Your hand still binds together, his razor-sharp nails scraping your hips. The pain turned into pleasure as he frequently plunged into you, you curved your back more, and your moans ranged out.

You lolled out your tongue, and your breath got heavier, feeling your legs numbed. Your cunt was on fire before you saw white, moaning out loud, turn your head back to get a glance of Doma.

His eyes were still filled with lust and contentment.

Your head was on the wall, his cock getting further into your cunt, your moans ranged out of your lips, eyes watering. Your pussylips dripped off your juices and blood.

He placed his head on your shoulder, muttering sinful things into your ears, making you hotter.

He bit your shoulder before spilling his seed into you; his white essence dripped down your legs, your walls sucking him dry.

Before he withdrew his dick from you, you fell to the floor, mixed liquids dripping onto the floor, before he shoved his dick into your mouth, kicking the oxygen out of you.

"Suck it" he demanded, his cock coming out and in into your mouth. Slick coating your lips, dripping onto your chest.

You looked at him, your e/c making eye contact with his own multi-colored eyes, before he took your head, slamming your head to his pelvis.

His pelvic hair tickled your face, drooling dripping out your mouth.

His length hit the back of your throat, gagging on it, trying to get air into your lungs, before he spilled his seed into your mouth, he grabbed the back of you by the hair off his cock.

A string of spit connected his dick to your mouth, and your tongue lolled out, as you greedily tried to breathe in the air.

Your eyelids felt heavy before you turn around to see Doma already have his pants on, fixing himself together. He bent down to your level, "Y/N-chan, I will spar your life, but.." he put one of his fingers on his cheek.

"You have to serve me and suit my needs" he smiled, as he finished, before gently grabbing your chin, tilting it up.

Your face felt hot, but who knew that you would be here just fucked a demon and got cummed in, but you had to face the fact.

"Yes, Doma"

[vagabond-umlaut]

Fall Versus Foliage

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader; Geto Suguru Makes His Debut; Takes Place Between Star Plasma Vessel Incident & Death Of Haibara; Fluff, Very Little Angst, Humor & Drama!! Contains Spoilers. Canon-Compliant. [Geto's Already Spiralling Here.] [I Hate Canon.]

Oneshot From Series: One Day, Three Autumns

Your Best Friend is Gojo. Gojo's Best Friend is Geto. Your Mortal Enemy is Geto.

"Oi, you six-eyed cellar spider! Where the fuck you hidin', huh?"  

Wrenching the shoji door open, you charge onto the backyard of your home, wading through the tall grasses overcrowding your so precious lawn. Somewhere from behind, someone calls your name in an overly frantic tone— paying them no attention, you proceed forwards, wrath coursing through your arteries and veins– colouring your vision with a furious shade of red.  

Honestly speaking, this isn't how you envisioned your weekend going. You were under the impression you might be able to get some indeed very much needed rest these two days— maybe with some fun too in the mix, given how you invited your friends to this tucked away home you've in the countryside.  

Then again, you never envisioned someone gobbling your Neapolitan ice cream– the entirety of it– did you, now?  

"Hey, Gojo," you holler once again, eyes roaming in search of the bane of your existence, when you suddenly stop at the sight before, only to increase the speed of your attack within the next instant. "Oi, Satoru!" you yell, clenching then relaxing your fists as you march towards that messy mop of white hair partly obscured by the tree trunk its owner's leaning against, "You gone deaf or— huhhh? What the fuck is this??" 

Were anyone from your family there right now, you'd have received an earful for such a horrendously unladylike language— you shove every thought of your stick-in-the-mud family members out your mind into the lake nearby, opting to focus on the masterpiece before instead. 

Though you're much too unsure, which of them two the masterpiece is.  

Must it be the striking painting staring back at you, the woman's eyes carrying fondness yet mystery in their depths while her lips curve in a visibly coy smile, sweet yet cryptic?  

Or must it be the striking painter snoozing beside his work, tiny quiet snores leaving him while his head lolls to the side, those black shades sitting tad precariously on his nose? 

A muted exhale leaving, you force your shoulders to slump down and relax, your hands reaching forwards to carefully pluck his glasses off– only to still and tense up, registering the presence of another person.

Very intolerable. Very obnoxious. Another. Person.

Suguru offers you an easy smile from where he's propped up against the tree beside Satoru's, an open book lying in his lap. You manage a barely civil smile in response, gritting out, "Why the hell are you here, huh? Never took you to be my 'Toru's watch dog... Senpai."

Even if the boy does detect the disrespect in the term of address you throw in as an after-thought, he makes no comment on it– wearing a smile as placid as before, and replying, "Never took these lawns to be out of bounds for me either— but here are we. Thinking things only to be proved wrong later on. Funny little coin—"

"I'm rather good at reading people," you cut him off, eyes narrowed in a glare as your teeth clack against each other in your attempts to rein in your bubbling irritation and rising volume: Satoru's asleep; he must not be disturbed at any and all costs– "and I think Ieiri-senpai prefers your company to Iori-senpai's when she's smoking. Why don't you go, have a smoke with her, yeah? They're in the other wing of the house."

Or, perhaps, in the same wing of the house adjoining these very same gardens— but you don't add that. With the fewest words spoken, you want Suguru to be gone the quickest, the farthest from Satoru— who seems too delicate, too vulnerable, too breakable in such a state— an uncomfortable shiver slithering down your spine on noticing that tiny scar at the back of his neck, you drag your attention away from him— to the second boy watching you: visibly delighted; tangibly intrigued.

You will your annoyance to be doused: your best friend's asleep; 'Toru Must Not Be Disturbed— his best friend leisurely flips over to another page, though his eyes drift to the new page only for a moment before returning to study you— albeit without the sliver of interest his hawk-like gaze always carries when settling on a hapless girl doomed to be his prey for the night— you observe this with an inward sigh of relief.

Be it for you or for Satoru, you never quite like those who try to come between the two of you friends. You suppose, the white-haired boy is not very fond of such folks either. That pathetic boy who tried to give you an equally pathetic rose in your third grade, still carries remnants of the thrashing your friend had given him on hearing your complaint – you know, the white-haired boy is not very fond of such folks either.

Suguru chuckles softly. "You..." he pauses for a little, seemingly in the search for the right words, then resumes, "You're not good in dealing with feelings, are you? Especially not where it concerns people close to you, right?"

It takes you two seconds before the meaning behind his words spring to life. You clench your fists to keep yourself absolutely rooted there, vision growing red yet again.

"Are you trying to tell me what I think you're trying to tell me, Geto?" you query quietly, nails digging deep crescents into the skin of your palms. Suguru's face morphs into an unrushed grin, smug and ugly. You reckon one of your nail's finally broken the skin of your left palm.

The Curse Manipulator shrugs. "That depends on what—"

"Being mean to you isn't me not knowing how to handle my emotions or some shallow shit like that," you cut him off, unclenching your fists and letting the air brush over the red-hot indents in your palm, "Being mean to you is me wanting to be; and you better not be expecting me to change that anytime soon, 'cause I won't–" A barely-heard mumble on kikufuku makes you pause. Throwing a sideways glance at the boy mumbling, you return your focus to the other boy, eyes fixed in a hard stare.

"I hate you and I'm so not the type to be polite with someone, only to bitch about them later on, behind their back— so I'm gonna continue hating you to your face— and I don't care what you might have to say on this, so you better save your breath, yeah?"

A moment of tense silence follows your question, broken not too long after by the black-haired boy's incredulous statement, "I never meant that to refer to myself. I was speaking on your feelings for–" He grows silent suddenly, eyes darting to Satoru for a brief second, before they return to you. Cheshire cat grin back in every bit of its dastardly glory.

"Feelings for someone close to you translates to your hatred for me– hm?" he says, throwing a momentary glance at Satoru yet again, grin unbudged, "You are one very weird girl, you know that?"

"Oh, yeah?" you snap back without missing a beat, "You might not be knowing this— but anger and hatred are equally valid feelings as any other— and regarding the matter of you being someone close to me?" you let out something between a scoff and a sigh, shaking your head, "You're one of the five other faces I see from my age group, at school everyday. Of-fucking-course, you're someone close to me. I'll be kind of upset if— Have you ever been told, your grin is low-key terrifying?"

Your genuine question earns one very hearty laugh from Suguru– it grows tempered soon enough, however, when you pointedly glance at your sleeping friend then shoot the other boy a glare. Sharp. Mad.

The latter smiles at you, shaking his head. "You're really one weird girl —perhaps the weirdest of them all..." he says, wiping a tear away from his eye, shoulders still shaking from his subdued laughter– "However, I can't help but wonder..."

You shift your weight to one foot, the other tapping an impatient tune on the ground as you stuff your hands into your jacket pockets. Smile dimming to grow a touch of honest curiosity, he asks, "You say, anger and hatred are valid emotions, but don't you feel they might burn you from the inside out, consume you and every bit of your life, leave your world in smoke and ash— don't you feel ashamed when you're feeling those? Helpless– miserable when your anger and hatred tears at your insides? Teasing you, taunting you— cursing you?"

It takes you few moments to grasp the entirety of Suguru's question; and when you do, you can't help but feel sorry for him— Though you know better than to offer something as trash as sympathy to another.

Not when it cannot retrieve the lost, resurrect the dead.

Not when it cannot remove the scars– seen and hidden.

Not when it cannot... let your 'Toru sleep without reliving the sight of millions of maggots swarming over him, weak, dying, dying, weak— YouNeedToMakeGetoLeaveNOW—

You fake a yawn, flexing and extending your legs, one at a time.

"Jogging, fencing, complaining, being mean, napping— these are my usual go-to's whenever I feel too overwhelmed by negative emotions," you answer, features made into one of nonchalance then add, almost as a mumbled after-thought, "or when any emotion confuses me too, to be honest. Kicking the wall or the source of your distress helps me too, yeah."

"So... violence is always an option, hm?"

A chuckle moves to fall past your lips— you push it back– misgivings standing where humor should be– when you catch the way Suguru's eyes gleam in the shade granted by the drifting clouds— though that gleam doesn't seem to be gleaming to you. One might accuse you to be unfairly prejudiced against him— but you know you aren't letting a smidgen of those biases tint your vision now.

You know that gleam in his eyes is anything but funny. Anything but light. Anything but good—

The Curse Manipulator rises from his slouch on the ground, sending you another of his easy smiles, though it no longer feels as harmless as it used to, earlier. Your feet move a few steps towards Satoru— in response to your instinct to shield the boy or your desire to be within his comforting aura— you're not very sure, which.

Suguru's smile grows, gaze flitting from his classmate to you. "Thank you for inviting us here. All of us really needed this break after... what happened last year," he says, volume dropping to a whisper, "Thanks a bunch, kid."

You just nod your head in response, fighting the urge to rush to your friend's side— the other boy lets out a muted chuckle, feet moving a couple steps away from you, before he stops and points at the piece of drawing lying before Satoru, held down by a stone paperweight. It is the one you gifted him, many years back at a beach, you recollect.

A tad too tickled statement startles you back to the present.

"Your 'Toru's made his 'sweetness' the subject of that portrait there... think, he fancies her or something?"

Not sparing said portrait a glance, you frown up at him. "But it seems to be of an older woman, Geto. Are you trying to suggest Satoru sees me as someone older than her age?"

"Maybe," he shrugs. You observe him for a moment before looking at the fast asleep boy again— dread and dejection filling every small bit of your body, slow yet so steady—

Satoru sees you as someone much older than your age. Satoru never tells you, he'll be drawing your portrait— but he has told that bastard best friend of his, everything. Said bastard best friend keeps being a hindrance, putting a spoke in your and Satoru's eons old friendship— not to mention those way too disturbing vibes he was giving off some time back— Bloody hell, Satoru also ate your ice cream up, didn't he?

"You seem to be overwhelmed with emotions, kid," the black-haired boy comments, still standing in the same place as he was, watching you attentively with hints of a smirk, "What are you planning to do?"

Honestly? You don't know. You're mad. You want Suguru to leave you two by yourselves for some time. But, you don't know how to— okay, no, wait–

Kicking something never not solves your issues... Besides, all of your friends– yeah, even this bang-haired asshole, keep themselves away whenever you and Satoru fight, so...

Stamping down the glee blooming in your heart, you throw Suguru a very unimpressed glance. "What can one ever expect me to do, eh?"

And that's the last thing you utter, before you stomp right up to your best friend, and ignoring the tiny flicker of regret, deliver a sharp and well-aimed kick to his leg— eliciting a yelp from your poor 'Toru– but, at the same time, kicking your oh-so-splendid plan of protecting your friendship, off as well.

[But, in case this plan fails? Something, the sweet half of yourself is a bit too sure, will happen— Shut the fuck up, you goody-two-shoes!!—

Simple!! You'll buy Satoru three– no, five– tubs of that Neapolitan ice cream. Offer to complete his homework, plus massage his shoulders as an apology for hitting him. And pout at him, trembling lips and big teary eyes and all that jazz, and—

Gojo Satoru will be best friends with his sweetness in no time, again!]

I do not own the characters used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please do not plagiarize or translate or repost this. Hope you enjoyed reading this! 😊

Please interact with This Post to be added to the series taglist! ❤️

Masterlist

Satoru calls his future S/O sweetness, but trust me when I say— Suguru's S/O will be the sweetest of them all. Stay tuned for the next oneshot in this series, my loves!!! 🥰

[ryusuisloveinterest]

My contribution to Night Kids November

hi guys! I heard it’s night kids November so here I am with some headcanons! I hope you like it!

Night Kids x Reader Headcanons🩷

Takeshi Nakazato

One day you saw a black r32 outside of the coffee shop you were going to

Of course being the big car geek you are you start taking pictures and admiring it until you hear a voice 

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

You quickly stand up and see none other than Nakazato himself

“I’m so sorry! Is this your car? It just seemed so cool I wanted a couple of photos to show my friends… I can delete them if you want….”

You look back at the man to see his face being a bright red color

“I-it’s fine! Just wasn’t expecting someone as good looking as yourself to- I mean-!”

He’s still a nervous wreck lol

You’ve been dating for months since then but he still finds himself stuttering and blushing at the littlest things you do

I’m sure Nakazato has some kind of money cause dude has a whole r32 so I’m sure he’d spend the rest on you

I just read he possibly does something with pharmaceuticals so he definitely gonna spend that money on you. Buying you jewelry, the plushie you looked at through the window, and definitely a nice expensive dinner

Gets so excited when you come to his races

The first time he saw you in the crowd he freaked out 

He was happy you were there, but he was scared of all the weird guys that hung around too 

So from then on he just took you with him to wherever he went

If you really don’t wanna be part of the race or you don’t like actually racing then he trusts his team enough to let you stay with them

But if you’re in the car with him while he races he’s gonna wanna show off so much in front of you

But at the same time he’s so scared he’s gonna big a guard rail too

It’s just best if you stay with his team, but he’ll drive for you once the race is over!

He’s such a gentleman

Doors always opened for you, feet rubs, cuddles, you name it and he’s doing it 

His favorite thing to do with you is crafts with you 

Like HE personally doesn’t like doing it, but he loves it when you finish making him a bracelet or a painting and comparing it with his

His definitely isn’t the Best but your smile makes it worth it 

Shingo Shoji

This boy💀

Where as I can see Nakazato with a a partner who doesn’t race or doesn’t like racing, Shingo has to have someone who at the bare minimum likes cars

He probably saw you racing one night, and just as you passed by him he saw your face 

He needed to get your number!

He asked everyone if they’d see this car

It wasn’t until he asked Sayuki when he found out who you were

“A red NSX? Oh that’s y/n! Me and Mako drive with them sometimes. What about it?”

He begged her to give him your number or set you up on a date

Once you guys finally did meet you guys clicked right away

The both of you do weird couple things 100% and have no shame

You’ll get up to grab you and him something and he’ll just smack your butt and be like, “thanks babe” like nothing happened 

A few hours later and you do the same back to him, “it’s payback” you say

The rest of the night you’re chasing each other around smacking each others butts giggling and laughing at each other 

Shingo doesn’t really give gifts, however he loves to do random things with you 

The both of you will look up random things to do around Miyogi or wherever else you guys feel like going 

Or you both will try new things together like cooking, walking around looking for rocks, or even playing basketball, etc.

He’d love to see you at his races

If you were part of a team or races against others too he’d definitely show up to show his support, using every opportunity to say, “yeah she’s my babe,” or, “I bet you wish she was yours huh? Too bad, I guess you’re just gonna have to keep looking from afar.”

If you know how to gum tape then I don’t think he’d mind too much for you to go against him, but he would still prefer not to

If you don’t have a clue about it then he doesn’t wanna risk you getting hurt

His favorite thing to do with you is late late drives

He likes when your in his passenger seat, he likes when he’s in yours

He likes when your racing with each other

At the end of the day as long as he’s with you he’s satisfied 

[dumbdemonslayertexts]

Your Hair: Revealed (anon request)

Pairing: ambiguous AF x black!fem reader

Warnings: 18+, violence, mentions of maiming, murder, and blood

these meetings were irksome. moreover, their complete lack of announcement was something you would normally kill over. but you were sure to wipe any such notion from your head. you were an uppermoon, but your life still was not guaranteed if your thoughts were an irritant to Muzan.

and as you slid open the empty room's shoji, looking around the endless maze of the castle you'd been teleported to, you sighed to yourself. you hadn't had an opportunity to wrap your tresses-- no longer as manageable as they were in your human form. the blood demon art you were gifted had transformed your thick coils into what could only be called an abyss of a thundercloud. it still defied gravity as it flowed behind you, cascading and flowing with physics separate from this world, but now it gave off a perfumed and iridescent plume in its wake. one that constantly floated around your hair's mass and length, and one that it left to hypnotize any mortal that was caught in its scent. you'd lost count of just how many humans gladly allowed you to feed off of them freely, while they nuzzled and caressed, and buried their faces into the sweet plush that was your hair. they begged and pleaded for the opportunity, even. you would have liked to bind it and not have your crown on display so openly to the other ranks. they hardly would show the reverence owed to your beauty.

still, even with your hair in this intimate state: down and billowing behind you, floating and trailing you like the veil of an empress among gods, you carried yourself as you rightfully should. your skin shimmered as though the moon itself worshipped you. your eyes fixed straight ahead, and you paid no mind to hantengu's incessant cowering... you also ignored the rattling you knew to be gyokko's idiotic vases.

"oh! Yonaka-dono~!" your lids shut, and you rolled your eyes behind them at the voice you heard swooning your name. of course, when they opened again, douma was before you with his hands as petals at either side of his face... like some fawning school child. "I've never seen you with your hair loose! ohhh~!"

"urusai."

his fawning came to a stop - as did his reaching hands - at akaza's demand, and you both watched as he passed you. his eyes met yours only briefly, and his scowl only deepened as you lifted a brow at him. douma sighed and sulked away with his fun spoiled, only barely restraining himself from asking you to sit beside him.

you would have declined.

as you did sit, you were met with the sight of purple robing, and then, before you could process that much, six menacing eyes before yours.

"you.. are far too casual."

his voice was more intimidating than usual. you could hear the serpent in his spirit. and your lips quirked. "you wished to be the first to see me in this state? or the only..?"

your jaw was crushed in his grip in the next moment, and you were lifted easily into the air, face to face with the highest rank, but you laughed again. especially seeing the murderous glare akaza bore into kokushibo's head, and hearing the wailing in protest coming from douma.

"i was summoned just as abruptly as you, lord kokushibo, if you are so scandalized... your complaint isn't with me."

he grumbled deeply in response, and released you in the next moment, disappearing to some other corner outsight of your concern.

as your bones healed, you straightened yourself up, dabbing at the blood that had seeped from the corner of your mouth. you made sure to lock gazes with a still snarling akaza as you licked your finger clean... and when he looked away, dropping to a knee and driving his fist into the floor strongly enough for it to crack, you grinned, awaiting Muzan's arrival.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Sinful: Scion!Hanzo Shimada x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Chapter 1

Contains: Spanking with objects, mentions of buttplugs and collars, Switch!Hanzo and Switch!Reader, dragons, hair pulling, creampies

The Shimada clan was one to be feared; Not only in the beautiful imperial islands of Japan but all over. They were powerful business partners other mafias and organizations would kill to have them as partners, able to supply weapons and trained deadly armored guards at a moment’s notice. However, strike their match’s bud the wrong way and whoever the poor sap started the fire will get burned and it will be devastating.

You should know, you’ve seen what happens to ex-business partners that try to get their revenge on the Shimada’s. Your husband was vicious as he was quick to dish out punishment. Hanzo was a stern, powerful leader, yes-

But he was so incredibly wrapped around your fingers, ready to bend to your will at your call.

Which led you to where you were at this very moment.

There was a room that was special to you two only, a room you both keep secret as well as the many treasures that lay inside its cavity. Nobody is allowed near the room. Choice guards, maids, even the elders he denied.

The usual light lacquered wooden floors lining the flooring of the whole castle were covered in a deep red carpet soft to the touch, but still tough enough to bite at your skin should you rub into it for too long. The familiar shoji walls were covered with black paint and silken curtains and sound-proofing foam in case things were to ever get too loud for your liking. The doors even had three different key locks you both made sure to change often out of privacy. Dark cherrywood dressers were full of not only lingerie and sleek black leather harnesses, but a variety of toys in various degrees.

Vibrators, plugs, gags, handcuffs, whips and riding crops, studded belts, blindfolds, ropes of various textures and twists were some of the many you had in every dresser.

You stood before Hanzo who had been kneeling on the carpeted floor for some time now. His bronzed skin had slowly been turning a grueling pinkish tone from the grading carpet sprigs, surely they were going to be sore when your night of debauchery ceases, maybe even a little scratched up. You made sure to remind yourself to pamper him afterwards once you both had returned to your chambers after this was done.

His thin ankles had been pulled together by a single, long blue silken strap, a tight knot decorated with a bow on top had tickled the exposed joint of his ankles, his toes twitching and curling somewhat with every light breezy stroke on the sensitive skin. He barely could shift his feet if he wished to.

His hands had been bound behind his back by two matching ribbons. One kept him together by his forearms starting from below the bend of his elbows down the length of his muscular forearms, tying at his wrists with a sloppy bow. The other ribbon started where the other ended, wrapping around both palms to keep them closed, binding fingers closed as well. The ribbons creaked eerily every time his muscles twitched. You knew that your husband was strong enough to break them with only a simple flex and pound into you mercilessly. You could barely suck back in the drool from spilling over your swollen lower lip, just the sight of your muscular husband tied up like a puppet had been doing wonders on your pulsing hot sex. Muscles held back by silken ribbons, dipping and digging into every bulge of hard muscle.

You slowly stepped behind Hanzo, pacing around him carefully on the tip of your toes so as to lessen the amount of noise you made. You circled him like he was your prey (even though you knew you were in fact the prey here, Hanzo was merely allowing you to mess with him). You had stripped him of the pristine white button-up, still clean and crisp as if he had just gotten it, his sleek black dress slacks as well. He kneeled before you in only his underwear. They were cheap, something Hanzo wore only when you both agreed upon a night for yourselves. They were uncomfortable with Hanzo’s royal jewels, but it was much more satisfying to rip them off of his body to reveal his cock and balls. Besides; the underwear was made of a cheap and thin material, you could see the bulge of his cock pressing up against the cheap boxer briefs.

You hummed, strutting behind him to the cherrywood dressers, specifically the middle one. It had a large hutch on top with doors where you kept the riding crops. You saw Hanzo’s shoulders stiffen upon hearing the familiar squeaking of the doors opening, his toes curling into the carpet sprigs. The corners of your lips twitched upwards into a coy little smile.

You slowly glanced over the many types of crops and other tools deemed well enough for spanking. Amongst riding crops hanging up were a single piece of bamboo that was thick enough to not break apart upon spanking and a cricket paddle with the word ‘Naughty’ written sloppily on it. Multiples whips of varying origins laid curled up on the bottom, one from Australia from before radiation consumed most of the Outback, one from Texas made from only the toughest of bull hides, one was personally made for your private meetings with your husband that laid in a fine loop of black shiny leather with small spikes down the thin leather. It was perfect for when you wanted to see him squirm during important meetings, little welts down the curves of his sculpted ass cheeks, hot throbbing pain fading to dull pulses the more he sat on that wonderful ass of his.

You decided upon a riding crop from England’s finest for only the most finest of racing stallions. A thick black leather handle, squishy to the grip, perfect to hold and to never lose grip upon bringing it down onto flanks (of various species). The tube pristine and a shiny matte black finish on cool hollowed steel. The head of the crop was polished leather, blackened and shiny, ready to once again crack against Hanzo’s flanks.

You spotted how his shoulders had shifted upon hearing your selection, trained ears picking up the soft clinging of steel against the hooks that held it up in the cabinet. A smirk curled up on your lips, seeing Hanzo’s shoulders strain and tense, ribbons creaking as he twisted his wrists slightly.

You chuckled under your breath, slowly walking up behind your husband, the riding crop swinging lazily with every movement of your arm. You stopped yourself behind him, opting to lift up your foot and press it between his shoulder blades, putting just enough pressure to force Hanzo to bend at the waist and press his forehead against the scraggly carpet.

“Now,” you tutted, walking to his side, “how long did it take for you to come up here? How many minutes were you late by?” you hissed softly in his ear.

“Seven minutes, my diamond.”

“And what pitiful excuse do you have for me?”

Hanzo swallowed thickly, finding his throat suddenly dry and tight.

“A meeting had run late, my diamond. There is no excuse.”

“And do you know what your punishment is? Making me wait so long, I nearly relieved my pent-up tension without you.”

“Please forgive me, my love. I will take whatever punishment you put upon me.”

“I expected nothing less.” You walked behind Hanzo, seeing his body tense up a bit, no longer feeling your presence beside him. You raised the head of the riding crop up to the cheap underwear. You bent down a bit, hooking a finger in the waistband of the cheap bargain brand boxers. You gave the waistband a quick flick, letting them snap back against his waist before rehooking a finger around and pulling them down the curve of his sculpted ass. You gingerly caressed them for a mere second before gripping the riding crop harder and stepping back. “Seven strikes for seven minutes. Then maybe, maybe, I will let you finger me until I come.”

“Whatever to please you, my dearest,” he called from the floor.

You raised the crop, tightening your arms back you released the coil in your shoulders and allowing the crop to crack down on Hanzo’s ass. Hanzo moaned in pain softly, knees buckling and spreading farther apart. The ribbons hissed, Hanzo’s fingers flexed and curled in tightly to form two fists. A shiver ran down Hanzo’s back violently.

You strutted out from behind Hanzo, cocking a brow at how silent Hanzo had fallen. Thick raven black strands of hair were already clinging to his tight jawline from sweat, some had fallen over his eyes. You waited a mere minute, dangling the riding crop loosely in your ringed fingers, waiting for him to open his mouth and count.

“Hanzo,” you tutted like an annoyed mother, “you’re supposed to count dear. Or do I need to start over? I’d hate to restart, even if you were spanked once.”

“I am sorry, my love.”

You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down deliciously. You licked at your bottom lip slightly, eyeing him as if he were a prized cut of meat being seared deliciously. There was a slight taste of the creamy lipstick gracing the tip of your tongue, smoothed colored beeswax and shea butter briefly filled the cavity of your mouth. You swore you drooled at the sight of him.

“Good. Now, what was that?”

“One, mistress.”

You strut behind him once more, Hanzo tensing once more as he saw your heeled feet leave his peripheral. You purred, raising the riding crop once more and letting it whistle as you swung it back down.

A sharp crack against Hanzo’s lower right hip had Hanzo bend over just a bit, his knees part just a little bit apart and letting him sink down closer to the floor. A cry pressed at Hanzo’s lips, a hiss leaving.

“T-Two,” he stuttered.

You twisted the crop in your fingers, admiring how the leather shined nicely in the dim lighting. Two bright red welts were starting to form on Hanzo’s hide.

You coiled your arm back and lunged out once more, this time earning you a cry from him, loud and open, right from his chest. His head shot back, jaw slacking. You had struck him right above his asscrack, watching at the toned muscles of his ass rippled slightly from the smack.

“Three,” he gasped.

Your free hand reached out and snagged at Hanzo’s loosened locks, free from chemicals and gels and sprays meant to keep up his appearance before the clan. Fingers anchored around locks of raven black, you tugged Hanzo’s head back farther so he would look up to you. You could see his cock straining, still inside the confines of the cheap underwear.

Hanzo’s eyes were squinted through pain, white teeth bared slightly.

“Whose cock is that for?”

“You, my love. Only you,” he exhaled.

His back was bent at a slight arch already.

You spanked him once more with the crop, Hanzo’s mouth opening to moan, eyes screwing shut. A light pink blush has spread over his cheeks and nose. His back arched more, a feat only achieved from his years of discipline and training.

“F-Four,” he gasped.

“It seems you’re enjoying your punishment.” You cracked his asscheeks again. “I don’t think this is working, I may need to step it up, Hanzo.”

“Five,” he moaned. He blinked, tears had gathered at the corners of his eyes but had not fallen. “My love, I assure you, I am learning from this.”

You squinted at Hanzo, debating if you should plug his asshole with a vibrating buttplug and leave him bent over, hunched down with his forehead to the floor and ass in the air for all to see.

Another crack, this time a single tear was jerked free from his left eye from the pain, a serpent’s hiss pulling from Hanzo’s gritted mouth.

“Six.”

“You’re my little bottom bitch, aren’t you, Hanzo?”

He nodded wordlessly, panting as if he ran a marathon. Hell, he was sweating as if he had been.

It was at least somewhat true. Hanzo loved it when you dominated him, especially after a stressful day of leading the Shimada Clan and being the most feared yakuza boss in all of Japan.

But that didn’t mean he was a full-on bottom.

You were suddenly reminded of Hanzo’s brutal strength when the ribbons hissed and creaking, suddenly looking very worn and on the edge of ripped down the middle.

What you would give to be fucked right now, for Hanzo to rip out of the ribbons and fuck you until you forgot your own name.

Your grip on Hanzo’s hair tightened before you pushed him forward, delivering the final crack on his asscheeks.

The ribbons wrapped around Hanzo’s wrists had snapped apart with a very audible rip straight from a movie. Hanzo’s hands gripped onto the carpeted floor, nails biting into the soft sprigs of colored wool, scratching raised grooves into the carpet as Hanzo’s back and shoulders rolled back, head ducked below his shoulders. Sweat glistened like sparkles on his bronzed skin, intricate tattoos shiny in the low lighting.

Hanzo rolled his shoulders back, lifting his head, raven locks clinging to his sweaty neck and shoulders.

You watched as Hanzo had shot up from the floor, launching himself at you. You could only let out a short yelp before he had you pinned to one of the walls by the throat, the riding crop falling to the carpeted floor. Your fingers gently scratched at Hanzo’s tattooed wrist, a soft squeak let open lips as Hanzo looked at you dangerously. He was panting like a wild animal, and the dampness in your panties did not help your fantasies of getting fucked by as if you both were wild creatures did not help.

You were yanked until he had pushed you violently back, your back now up against the lip of a lower dresser full of toys. You only got to see maybe a moment of Hanzo advancing towards you before you were flipped so your stomach was pushing against the rounded lip of the dresser and your face pressed against the flat top.

“Hanzo,” you whimpered, gripping at the back of the dresser.

“You are not the only one receiving punishment tonight,” Hanzo growled in your ear. “I saw you relieving yourself earlier this morning when you thought I had already left for my meeting.”

Your eyes widened a bit, cheeks flushing at the thought of you getting caught by Hanzo masturbating while still in bed.

Hanzo quickly yanked down your soaking panties, groaning with delight at the sight of your bare pussy before all but ripping off the cheap boxers off his person.

You felt the thick head poke at your ass before he slid it along, pushing into your dripping folds as he completely covered you with his bulky form. Hands on either side of your shoulders, trapping you from moving. You winced as he ground against your bare ass, a growl leaving his lips as he shoveled his nose into your hair.

You winced as a sudden electric blue light filled the dim room, the bright neon hurting your eyes for a mere second before it had faded.

You knew what had happened as you quickly felt little clawed feet gently latch onto the sweaty skin of your legs and hips. His duel dragons had decided it was time to make an appearance at this very moment, feeling their master’s fierce arousal as well as the tense feelings from your spankings. It was a nice reprieve to have cool watery scaley skin hovering just barely over yours, but the pinpoint prickling in your hips from their claws only made you whine impatiently.

Your mouth suddenly opened, neck flexed yet no sound came from you as you felt Hanzo sink himself fully in, stretching you. You threw your head back, eyes screwed shut once more as Hanzo growled into the crook of your neck as he began to piston his hips.

Snapping his groin back and forth quickly, pounding into your throbbing sex, you both fell apart in moaning messes. Hanzo had placed more of his muscular weight on top of your back and shoulders, forcing you closer to the dresser until you were pressed flat. Hanzo’s hands snatched at your waist, nails biting into your delicate skin. Cresent moons would be carved into your naked flesh, they’ll be red and sore come morning.

You cried out as Hanzo plowed into you without mercy, pent up agitation on top of being spanked and teased relentlessly finally snapped something inside of him; It seemed to have brought out an almost feral side of him.

You licked your lips in anticipation, stopping yourself from drooling against the flat surface. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your mouth hung open slightly from the pure pleasure you were feeling right now. You loved how fast the coils in your cunt and gut tightened until it was white-hot and you came on his thick cock, seemingly spurring him on to make you come at least twice before he finishes, but something about him right now had you thinking he wouldn’t let up after he came once.

Hanzo clamped his teeth down on your shoulder as you moaned out, feeling the coils of your orgasm tighten.

Pain and pleasure never felt so good together.

“You’re such a filthy little slut,” he growled in your ear. His sharp teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Look at you, greedily taking everything I give you. Nothing but a doll in my hands, to do with as I please.”

“Hanzo!” you cried, feeling the tightness in your gut start to burn.

You were close. And the twitching of his dick inside of you showed he was too.

Hanzo snatched at your hair, gripping it tightly, arching your neck back but you managed to look at Hanzo out of the corner of your eye.

“What are you?” he snarled.

“I’m yours!” you sobbed.

“Who do you belong to?” he demanded.

“You! Only you!”

You came violently, Hanzo had let go of your hair to allow you to snatch at the dresser and shudder as your orgasm ripped through you, your slick coating down Hanzo’s cock.

You felt the two dragons nose at your sex, licking up your orgasm with their little forked tongues, their cool little bodies felt so nice on your heated flesh. They nipped at your inner legs, little fangs and claws on your sensitive spots nearly had your knees give out.

Your eyes fluttered as you came down from your high slowly, going slack between Hanzo behind you and the dresser beneath you until his pace grew sloppier by the thrust until he came.

He threw his head back slightly as he came, mouth open as he released a groan of pure pleasure. Hot ropes of precious Shimada cum coated your insides, painting them white as Hanzo rode out his climax inside of you, a few more lazy thrusts as he shuddered. Cum leaked out from your sex and dripped onto the floor, needing to be cleaned soon or else you faced a soiled carpet, but something told you that you would have a light stain forever on the dark carpet.

Hanzo didn’t even bat an eye as he grabbed onto your waist and twisted you, tossing you to the floor. You landed on your back with a gasp, looking up at Hanzo. You suddenly felt like prey, but the sinful blush on your cheeks only buried yourself deeper in the sin bin as you stared up at him breathless and panting, still leaking cum down your thighs.

Hanzo glared at you, playful hints in his dark amber eyes.

“Look at the mess you have made of the carpet,” he teased. “Must I teach you the lesson this time?”

You had failed to notice Hanzo had grabbed something from the cabinet, and now a thick leather collar was held tightly in Hanzo’s grip as he loomed over you.

You had a feeling the carpet would need to be changed out after tonight.

[sweet-honey-tears]

Advertising Hero

Makeup. P2

Part one

Tetsu, Shoji, Tokoyami, Aoyama x Reader

Hello, all my bubble bees. IM BACK -for a limited time only. As requested, we have another hero makeup! I did these while taking a break between work, and it was really enjoyable to do. I also can't get over the idea of Deku’s makeup being cosplay makeup—that boy definitely costplayed all might. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Reader wear dress and makeup, possibly suggestive if you squint.

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💪 Shoji 💪

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[matchstixx]

The People We Think We Know

Chapter 1

Pairing: Tobirama x fem!Reader

WC: 2,145

CW: None (9.16.2024)

Madara’s brothers’ names come from sennokami and fineillsignup, I liked their theories.

Read on Ao3

[Series Master List]

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Madara isn’t completely surprised when his father decides to take the girl in as a ward. His mother and father had always wished for a daughter.

He had seen the small flicker–not quite disappointment–the day that it was announced that Tajima had been ‘blessed with a fifth son' upon Izuna’s birth. Their second child was planned to be named Myoko, changed to Kou when the medical staff revealed him to be a boy. And initially they brushed it off, happy to have two strong, healthy boys to take up their positions as immediate heirs. So, they tried again, picking out the beautiful and cute name of Kurohime; and everyone chuckled and joked–when Kuro was born–about his mother’s ability to bless her husband with so many sons.

And then Mother nearly died giving birth to Togakushi. Madara was four at the time, but he vaguely recalls the entire pregnancy was rough for her; morning sickness through the entirety of it, fainting spells, migraines, if something could go wrong it probably did. He vividly remembers having to leave a sobbing three-year-old Kou with a one-year-old Kuro while he went running to the medical building the first time she passed out. When Father had returned later that night from a skirmish at the border, he had praised his quick thinking before spending the rest of the night quietly hunched over Mother as she rested, her hand tightly grasped to his chest. The medical team and midwives discouraged another pregnancy when they had to use resuscitation techniques on her and Togakushi during the birth.

Then, one night as Madara lay awake, he listened through a crack in the shoji as the sound drifted down the hall of his Mother begging Father to try one more time. Just once more, to try for a girl once more, and regardless of the outcome they would stop at five. His father quietly, hesitantly, agreed. And soon enough, Izuna was born.

The midwives had chastised them for trying again so soon after the previous pregnancy, and correctly, this time around was fairly hard on her body again. Not to the same degree, but enough so that Mother and Father fully acknowledged that pushing the boundaries any further would end up costing them more than just 9 months of horrible discomfort.

After the midwives leave, Father opens the door to let him and his brothers in to see little Izuna coddled to Mother’s chest. They chatter and coo and awe at him, draped across Mother’s legs and lap. He sits quietly as his brothers eventually nod off in a pile together, small hands twisting and clutching the blankets while he dutifully holds a straight back. And as a five-year-old Madara politely remains at Mother’s side, she gestures him closer, cradling his head to her chest where he can look at his youngest brother.

He’s a tiny thing. Face scrunched but skin smooth and the smallest shock of black hair on his head. Madara can only think of the reason why Izuna was born, the quiet whispers not meant for his ears–recalls that tiny flicker on Father’s face. And when he looks at Mother’s face, she has a soft smile–a genuine, loving one as she has had for every child she has born into the world–but there is a lingering sadness. So, he looks at his youngest brother, his littlest brother, his last brother, and vows to always keep safe this soul that, while loved, is not quite what was wanted.

—

It’s two years after Izuna is born that she appears. The Summer Solstice Celebration was in full swing, with dancing, singing, cheering. Everyone brought out food to pick at, lovers are running about with small streamers, parents with young kids are sitting watching a shadow puppet play, while older kids toss dice. Some of the elders grouse about the lack of the fireworks show, a tradition that was discontinued after the fighting with other clans had grown too costly; a commodity that can’t be afforded when weapons and armor are paramount.

Things are calming down as the sun sets, the younger children are practically comatose from a day of play–to the relief of some parents. The matriarch's of each house are calling to their eldests to come clean plates and dishes, getting only answering groans and complaints. It’s a scream from one of the mikos that has everyone snapping to attention.

Madara races to his room for his weapons as others leap either towards the shrine or into homes. He briefly hears Mother calling for him to come back as she balances Izuna on a hip and tells Kou to watch Kuro and Toga as the sound of her sandals quickly follow behind.

Father is already there with three other shinobi when Madara arrives with a couple kunai in hand. The miko is scolding a small child near the entrance of the shrine that is cowering with her arms crossed protectively over her head. Madara can see the slight quivering rattling her entire body as the adults stare down with distrustful gazes.

“Mayuri,” Tajima cuts off the incensed miko with a stern look, “What happened, whose child is this?”

She turns to him with down turned brows, “I don’t know. But what I do know is that I found her shoveling the food offerings for Amaterasu into her mouth like a starving animal.”

Mother arrives behind him, quickly catching up even when ladened with a two-year-old on her hip. “Madara, don’t go running off like that, you aren’t old enough for battle yet! What if a raid had been happening?”

“Yoko,” Tajima calls, pinching his nose, “If that were the case, you shouldn’t be running about either.”

“Oh shush, husband mine,” she waves a hand as she steps forward. “I could sense that there was no threat.”

Father sighs–a sarcastic ‘I wonder where our children get their hard-headedness from’ dropping quietly from his lips–as Mother swats his shoulder with a coy smile before turning to the small girl.

She silently looks at the child for a long moment, taking in the rice bag that had a neck and arm holes torn into it, a feeble and sad imitation of clothing. The fading light of the sun filters through the back of the shrine, shining through one of the windows to cast a warm yellow square of luminance across Mother as she smiles warmly and lowers herself to the ground.

“Now, what is your name, little one?” She coos.

The girl stares up at Yoko like she is the sun itself. Her breaths stutter out of her unevenly, bringing her hands down to clutch at the front of her rice bag dressings.

“Speak, girl!” One of the shinobi standing about growls, digging his heel into her back, subsequently knocking her to the floor.

The air seems to heat up dangerously as Yoko sends him a scathing look. Madara can see the way Mother’s lip curls into a snarling sneer, the heat of rage licking at her tongue that dampens when the girl speaks for the first time.

“[Name].”

She’s struggling back to her knees as she repeats it two more times.

“And I’m…,” she uncurls five fingers one by one before thrusting them out to everyone. “This many years old.” And Madara practically sees how Mother’s heart melts.

“My, that is quite old!” Yoko cheers with a starlight warm smile that the girl returns with a bashful one. “Do you know where your parents are? They must be worried about you.”

[Name] wilts, curling around herself. She shakes her head. “They went to sleep a long time ago. I tried to wake them up, but I guess they’re dreams are too happy.”

The dread in the air is palpable. Madara is seven, but he understands death. He’s had to ever since he started his shinobi training; even more so as his tenth birthday gets closer, signaling his formal introduction to the battlefield.

Mother looks to Father with a knowing look. Father simply closes his eyes.

His mother and father had always wished for a daughter.

—

She looks different, not quite like anyone from any clan that he has seen. The curve of her nose, the angle of her jaw, the lines of her face when she smiles or frowns. Madara notices all of this as she sits at the dinner table with them. His brothers all stare at her as the table is set. She seems blissfully unaware of their eyes, instead her attention gazes about the dining room, tracing the wooden beams and paper shoji screens.

She’s freshly cleaned and wrapped in a clean simple yukata by Mother’s hand–although, the sound of clattering and splashing that had come from the bathroom earlier was a testament to the difficulty of the entire endeavor. The two had come out later with the girl adamantly hiding her embarrassment with her hands and Mother bearing a beaming smile despite her rolled up sleeves being soaking wet. Father had just given her an unimpressed look before carefully pressing about the importance of not scaring their ‘guest.’

Father finally sits at the head of the table, gives thanks for the food and begins to eat. Everyone else calls back their thanks and Madara watches as the girl stumbles through it, trying to mimic the words. He watches as she picks up her chopsticks and leans over to bring the food to her mouth.

The sound of Mother clearing her throat has [Name] looking up at her like a deer watching for predators. Mother pointedly glances at everyone else at the table with their bowls held in hand. Abashedly, [Name] picks up her bowl and straightens her posture; Mother gives a small nod and dinner continues quietly. It’s hard for Madara to fathom how she knows how to use chopsticks and yet is unaware of good manners. Part of him supposes that perhaps she didn’t come from a well off family, or that maybe her family didn’t care.

Regardless, it’s odd, she’s odd.

After dinner, Mother calls out to him as his brothers collect the dishes. “Show [Name] to her room and help her set out the futon.”

“Yes, Haha-ue.” He nonchalantly brushes her hand away when she runs her fingers through his unruly hair, a quiet laugh leaving her as his ears burn red.

He can’t help but think how loud her steps are as they walk through the halls; the boards creak and groan under each of her steps, making the house sing an alarming tune. He isn’t used to the noise of it, even two-year-old Izuna is starting to learn which slats warble and how to avoid them–such is the habits of a shinobi home. It sets his teeth on edge and the hair on the back of his neck stands and won’t settle the longer that he feels her walking behind him.

When they get to the room, one that used to be his aunts before she was killed in a raid, he steps to the side when sliding open the door and gestures her in first. The way bile crawls up the back of his throat when she tilts her head almost knowingly at him makes him want to slam the door behind her in disregard of Mother’s command. But he resists as she steps in and looks around the room. Madara has to force himself to make his movements look less rushed than they actually are. Yanking the futon out of the closet haphazardly in an attempt to make the swing look casual and not like he wants to be ten miles away from this room–from this girl.

When he’s done smoothing out the blanket–as minimal as his effort was–he stands to look at the girl that had been watching him silently the entire time. There is something about her that doesn’t sit right, actions and words feeling disjointed and too experienced for her 5-year-old self. The futon separates them and it feels like his first battlefield, staring down this stranger in his home with the odd face, and odd mannerisms, and odd actions. And he feels powerful as he gathers up a heavy breath to give her a devastatingly serious glare with his words, “Chichi-ue allowing you to sleep here doesn’t make you my sister or a part of this family, you hear.”

And blankly in return, “I know, goodnight.”

Numbly, Madara stares at the closed door of the room that the girl had just shoved him out of, a deep seated embarrassment crawling up onto his cheeks in a warm flush. He doesn’t stomp down the hall, because he is a shinobi and he is above that.

(He hears as his brothers cackle when Father calls down the hall about the racket he’s making; and he swears he hears the girl chuckle too even though he would never be able to prove it.)

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