#they’re shunned and feared

[hy-chu]

Finally have designed my ideal Gym Leader team and motif, hopefully I’ll get something done after work

[bicheetopuff]

tgck and bkdk parallels make so much more sense when you think of it as Katsuki paralleling Uraraka and Izuku paralleling Himiko instead of the other way around…

[chryzuree]

something abt how chrysi halved her powers to turn jacks into a fate, and something abt how she gave him the best parts of her magic when she did… jst like that cookie. kicks rock…

[luvsupa]

GOODBYE, PRINCE GOJO.

tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), smut, (fingering), gojo has no shame, ANGST, royalty, sad ending arranged marriage, forbidden love, kissing, mdni idk what to add..

w.c: 4.4k

a/n:FINAL PART 🥹🥹 tysm for everyone who supported me and my story! ALSO THANK U GUYS SM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! IM BEYOND THANKFUL 💗+likes and reblogs are appreciated 🤍🤍

the next morning, unease settles over you as you touch up your makeup at your vanity desk, preparing for family breakfast. your entire life feels like it’s crumbling. you have only two days to choose your fate. strangely enough, you’ve grown comfortable around gojo again, but the fear of him tormenting you lingers.

but then there’s nanami.

he promised you a loving future. he’s charming and everything you want in a husband. yet, you can’t have both. society would never accept it; you’d be shunned if you tried.

choosing nanami means finally being freed from gojo, the twisted curse that has haunted you. but also being sent away could benefit you, offering no drama and pure freedom from him.

this is the only way you could truly be happy.

you grip your makeup brush tightly, feeling beyond conflicted. in a fit of frustration, you throw the brush and stand abruptly, nearly tipping your chair. this decision is tearing you apart. you don’t care about your appearance anymore as you exit your room and head to the breakfast room.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you hear distant chatter before arriving in the royal breakfast room. you greet the guards kindly as you enter, finding only your mother, gojo’s mother, and ayana seated around the long table. you expected more seats to be occupied, but many were empty.

the servants were bringing plates of fruits and vegetables to the table, along with freshly squeezed juices.

ayana notices you first, scoffing and turning away. you walk to the opposite side of ayana, catching gojo’s and your mother’s attention with your heels clacking against the wooden floor.

“oh, good morning, dear,” your mother says as you greet everyone respectfully. you sit directly in front of ayana, with your mother to your left at the table’s end.

“will ‘ruru be joining us, your majesty?” ayana asks annoyingly. the queen confirms his arrival. ayana looks at you with a hint of mischief, but you’re already weary of the torment you’ve endured.

just in time, you hear his laughter echo outside the breakfast room as he chats with the guards, thanking them for their hard work. ayana leans back in her seat, trying to see gojo through the doorway, biting her lip as she eyes him.

you feel a pang of jealousy at her reaction to him—oh.

i get why.

gojo walks in with his hair fluffy and damp, wearing a white button-up with the first few buttons undone, revealing a bit of his chest. you feel yourself start to salivate as his lotus tattoo peeks out.

holy fuck, he’s hot, you think.

“satoru, dear, must you always arrive in such untidiness?” his mother inquires with a touch of regal authority as he makes his way toward you. ayana’s jaw drops as he ignores her and takes the seat beside you.

you nearly moan out loud as you inhale his scent.

“presentable for whom?” he questions in a sassy tone.

“the royal authorities and ayana’s parents will be joining us,” the queen says as gojo rolls his eyes, clearly uninterested in anyone but you.

as you wait for the remaining guests to join, gojo keeps trying to hold your hand under the table. you keep shoving him away because your mother and ayana are watching you like hawks.

gojo knows they’re watching and doesn’t care—he wants them to see. as you push his hands away for the fifth time, the guards notify everyone that the rest of the guests have arrived.

you all line up to greet each person, feeling especially awkward when greeting ayana’s parents.

eventually, you return to your seats, still sitting in front of ayana and now her parents, as well as other royal authorities along the table, and beside gojo. great.

the maids kindly serve everyone plates of their desired breakfast. the room fills with the clatter of forks and knives scraping plates, and the soft chatter of the queen and royal authorities. as you enjoy your food, you notice gojo’s plate is untouched.

“you’re not hungry? you didn’t touch your food,” you whisper, concerned about his lack of appetite. he lazily turns his head to you, leaning in.

“i want you,” he murmurs.

you hold your composure, not wanting to show a reaction as you know many eyes are on you, including ayana’s. you ignore his words and focus on eating, but you feel gojo’s gaze, intense and searching.

he won’t back down, will he?

gojo deliberately knocks his utensils under the table, the clattering noise drawing everyone’s attention. you know he has something up his sleeve.

“ahh, don’t worry about me! just clumsy,” gojo reassures everyone as they return to their conversation. he lifts the tablecloth and ducks under the table to retrieve the utensils.

just as he’s getting up from under the table, you feel his hand slide under your gown. his cold fingers trail smoothly up your calf, moving higher and higher until they reach your thighs.

your heart races. he cannot be doing this—the royal authorities are here!

your breath hitches, but you try to maintain your calm persona. his touch sends shivers through you, and the risk of being caught only heightens the tension. gojo’s fingers tease your inner thigh, his touch both infuriating and electrifying.

“please,” you whisper, almost inaudibly, not sure if you’re begging him to stop or to continue.

you nearly moan out loud as he rubs you through your already wet undergarments, holding the utensils in his other hand. “here they are! silly me,” he says jokingly, eliciting laughter from the guests. with a rough pull, he moves your undergarments aside, revealing your cunt under the table.

if anyone dared to look under, you two would be sent to the guillotine.

“be a good girl and keep quiet,” he huskily whispers into your ear. you feel yourself slowly turning to mush, his voice, his fingers, his scent—

you cannot keep quiet like this! you must look presentable, especially with ayana glaring at both of you, her annoyance evident.

gojo rubs his fingers along your slit, parting your folds and applying pressure, provoking you to the brink of losing all sanity. his long, slender fingers tease your entrance, almost inserting, but not quite. you bite your lip so hard you think you could bleed, desperately trying to maintain your composure.

shaking, you hold your fork and struggle to focus on eating. gojo, meanwhile, looks unusually pleased, a smug satisfaction on his face as he watches you squirm.

“dear, have you made your decision?” your mother asks, her voice cutting through the hushed conversation at the table. you nervously glance around, internally cursing gojo for his reckless games.

“I-I haven’t,” you stammer, feeling exposed and vulnerable as gojo pinches your throbbing clit. he smirks knowingly, enjoying your struggle to maintain composure.

“you must decide soon, mustn’t you?” gojo interrupts, his tone taunting and cruel. tears threaten to spill from your eyes, realizing he intends to torment you in front of everyone.

“I- mmf”

your whole body jolts as gojo shoves two of his thick fingers straight into your sloppy pussy, the stretch burning in a way that feels strangely good. your velvety walls immediately pulse around his invading fingers, your wetness flowing down your legs. you bite your lip to stifle a cry, struggling to maintain your composure, slowly forgetting that everyone is waiting for your coherent response.

“I will,” you frantically whisper, unsure if anyone heard your hasty response or grasped its significance. as gojo curls his fingers, finding that spot that sends shivers down your spine, you feel yourself growing weaker and weaker with each thrusting movement.

your clit twitches in desperate need of attention, neglected by his deliberate touch, heightening the risky thrill of the forbidden act.

“she would be happier away from all of us,” ayana says, attempting to provoke a reaction from you. but you’re too intoxicated by gojo’s fingers to fully register her words. your legs begin to shake uncontrollably as gojo inserts a third finger, stretching you to the fullest as he’s reaching the deepest parts as you feel intense waves of your orgasm approaching.

“ahh you would love the countryside wouldn’t you?” gojo asks again, smirking at how dumb you’ve already became from his fingers. to an outsider, you appear dazed and drowsy, your senses overwhelmed by gojo’s addictive touch. meanwhile, gojo sits composed and seemingly innocent, oh how this made you want to scream at him.

gojo sneakily snakes his other hand under the table. just as you were about to respond, he begins to rub circular motions on your sensitive nub. the double stimulation causes your velvety walls to rapidly tighten around his curled fingers, soaking both his fingers and your gown.

your brain feels fuzzy as your orgasm intensifies. your eyes flutter continuously, as you hear lewd squelches erupt from under the table as his thrusting movements quicken, eager to have you come for him.

your legs continue to shake uncontrollably as the climax rushes through you, your body tensing up. you collapse onto gojo’s chest, your pussy gushing out juices non-stop, creating a messy puddle under the table. as you catch your breath from the intense release, your arousal remains heightened. gojo holds you close, supporting you as you lean against him.

“oh, she might not be feeling well,” gojo remarks, feigning concern. he slides his fingers out of your cunt, and you silently whine at the sudden loss, your walls clenching around nothing.

wait.

you forgot that you were still having breakfast with all the royal statuses as you and gojo were acting like fools! someone for sure had to notice. you’re too scared to look around as you remain leaning on gojo’s chest.

“i will bring her to her room to rest; this topic can be overwhelming,” gojo says, and everyone believes his cover story as he helps you, guiding you out of the breakfast room.

instead of taking the direct route to your room, gojo leads you down a longer path, where fewer guards are present. he stops at a secluded corner, where you have more space to talk openly.

“do you have any sort of decorum? i almost lost it in front of them!” you exclaim, still feeling the pulsating aftermath of your recent actions. your jaw drops as you watch gojo suck his pruned fingers into his mouth, humming loudly as he savors the taste of your arousal. his bright blue eyes lock onto yours with intense lust.

“i said i wanted you,” he murmurs, seemingly dazed by the lingering taste in his mouth.

“i do not want you to go to the countryside. i want you with me,” he pleads, his eyes darting between your lips and your gaze.

“you cannot always get what you want, big boy,” you tease, your hands wrapping around his neck as you pull him into a passionate kiss. you both moan loudly as your tongues entwine, tasting your arousal on his tongue immediately.

you pull away, denying gojo’s attempt for more kisses. he looks desperate, as if he’s dying without your touch, but you reject him again.

“i have to make my choice,” you say, smoothing out his unbuttoned shirt. your hands slip inside, revealing his lotus tattoo once more. he watches you intently, recognizing your odd attraction to his ink.

“i will see you later, ’toru,” you declare, ending the encounter. with that, you take the longer route back to your room, leaving gojo flustered once again.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as gojo makes his way back to the breakfast room alone, he re-enters the bustling atmosphere where a few people notice his presence. feeling already bored, he settles back into his original seat and makes eye contact with ayana's glossy eyes.

"is my daughter alright? i didn't want her to feel overwhelmed," your mother asks gojo with concern, while ayana eavesdrops. gojo reassures her that everything is fine, but ayana grows more impatient, her leg bouncing in frustration as she knows what transpired between you two.

"all she needed was rest—"

"do you all find this quite odd?" ayana rudely and loudly interrupts, causing a stir in the conversation. her parents are taken aback by her outburst, and the room watches in confusion, waiting for her to continue with her suspicions.

"the man i am supposed to marry is all lovey-dovey for that bitch!" she exclaims, prompting your mother to scold her for her language, which earns ayana's parents a disapproving glance from yours. on the other hand, gojo glares at ayana, visibly restraining himself from reacting impulsively.

“i mean mother, father, you have not seen it all yet but all she does is manipulate my poor ‘ruru,” she continues, spinning a false narrative to fit her story.

“manipulate how?” one of the royal authorities questions, clearly curious about the drama, which could further complicate your choices. ayana shifts her attention to the royal figures, grinning mischievously.

“it’s been many times i have caught them in sexual acts together, she manipulates him into it,” she lies, faking a sniffle to garner sympathy from the authorities. “j-just the other day—oh goodness—they were going feral for each other,” she claims, drawing everyone’s attention to gojo, whose smirk infuriates his mother as he reminisces on your shared intimacy.

“and you were a witness to all of their sexual acts?” the royal authority questions again, setting his utensils down and wiping his mouth with a cotton cloth as he stares intensely at ayana.

“unfortunately, i was. i just hope her punishment increases even more—even right now! they were just engaging in sinful acts under the table! how shameful,” she continues, causing shock and discomfort throughout the room. gojo slouches back in his chair, arms crossed, and begins to laugh, confusing everyone except the royal authorities.

“ayana hara,” another royal authority calls out, catching the attention of ayana and her parents. “as of now, you have confessed to committing a taboo—” ayana’s jaw drops as the authority’s words sink in. her plan isn’t unfolding as expected.

“t-taboo? my royal authority, i-i have not!” ayana interrupts, frantically trying to deny the accusation.

"as i was saying," the royal authority declares firmly, his demeanour visibly upset at her impudent interruption. "bearing witness to sexual acts among two unmarried individuals and failing to promptly report such transgressions to the authorities is considered a grave breach of decorum and law."

ayana’s face drains of color completely. she turns to her parents for support, their eyes seeking guidance from the queen, who remains composed but stern. tears begin to trickle down ayana's cheeks as she comprehends the gravity of her confession. meanwhile, gojo surveys the room with a knowing smile, fully aware of how ayana has unwittingly sealed her fate.

"i- i do not understand, there’s certainly no law about this," ayana stammers, desperation evident in her plea as she searches for any form of support, even casting a fleeting glance towards gojo, hoping he might intervene on her behalf.

"the king and queen uphold the law of the realm without exception. as for your transgression, ayana hara, you are hereby stripped of your duchess title, and immediate banishment of the hara estate is mandated," the authorities pronounce with unwavering authority, rising from their seats in disapproval of the disruption during breakfast. the queen and your mother remain somber and silent throughout, their disappointment clear.

"w- where would i s- stay?" ayana sobs, her world collapsing before her eyes. had she only kept silent, gojo thinks.

"there exists a remote village in the southern reaches, designated for those who have fallen from noble status. there you shall reside until further decree," he continues, the other authorities respectfully concluding their business with the queen and gojo before exiting the room, leaving ayana to cry out in anguish. tears stream down her face as her mother attempts to comfort her.

the room hangs heavy with tension, your mother and the queen maintaining bowed heads. ayana's father hastily pursues the departing authorities, seeking to work out the severity of his daughter's punishment. meanwhile, gojo remains seated, quietly amused by the unfolding drama. from the moment ayana spoke out, he knew her fate was sealed.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

"she was screaming all the way to her carriage, it was hilarious," gojo recounts the scene that unfolded in your absence. ayana had finally got what she deserved, and although you wish you could have witnessed it firsthand, it was satisfying to know she was facing her karma.

gojo stands in your room, recounting the events as you sit at the end of your bed. his shirt is still unbuttoned, and you notice a few more buttons undone than before.

"where has your pretty mind wandered off to?" gojo teases, his hand reaching down to gently lift your face so you meet his blue eyes.

"i am deciding on the first choice," you say, indicating your plan to move to the countryside. you don't want to be forced into a marriage with one of his distant relatives. gojo's smile fades, and he slowly lets go of your face, taken aback by your decision.

"what? no, we must figure something out," he stammers, reality sinking in as he realizes your departure is soon. "time's running out, 'toru. i have to decide, or your father will decide for me."

"no, we will go speak to them." before you can respond, gojo grabs your arm and pulls you out of your room, determined to find his parents. this time, you don't resist his grip, knowing that no matter what gojo says, the king's decision will stand greater.

as you descend the stairs, still hand in hand with gojo, you enter the drawing room to find the king and queen, accompanied by an unfamiliar woman.

“ah, perfect timing,” the king remarks as you both halt. gojo tries to speak but is immediately cut off by his father.

“son, with ayana’s banishment, it disrupts your marriage plans,” the king states.

“yes, father, but i have decided i will marry—”

“you are going to marry ayana’s cousin, rina.”

you shift your focus to the beautiful woman standing beside the king. she’s the same height as you, with long blonde silky hair draping along her back, some pieces neatly curled. her satin blue gown with white accents is beautifully hand-made as she holds a matching fan in one hand. she’s stunning.

you let gojo’s hand go as you feel utterly defeated, his plan of trying to convince the king shattered.

“dear, we ask if you can give them privacy to speak,” the queen says, ordering you to leave. gojo once again grabs your hand.

“she hasn’t decided yet, mother. she has two more days,” gojo says through gritted teeth. the queen chuckles softly at his defensiveness.

“she no longer has a choice. after the incident at breakfast, she will be sent to the countryside permanently first thing tomorrow,” the queen declares.

you can feel his anger.

“are you serious? you allowed her until—”

“i understand,” you say, cutting off gojo as he looks at you in disbelief. he cannot believe how quickly you surrendered your future.

“very well, come now, let us give them space,” the queen says, guiding you out of the room. gojo and rina are left alone as his anger boils over.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you wander the estate, feeling under the weather, you notice nanami through a window, sitting alone in the outdoor library, writing in a journal.

you approach him, and he looks up, smiling as he gestures for you to join him.

“how have you been?” you ask, genuinely concerned for his well-being.

“I should be asking you that. i never wanted this to happen to you,” he replies, closing his journal and placing the feathered pen neatly beside it. you nod, fidgeting with your fingers.

“i have been avoiding you for a few days. i am so ashamed of what occurred, my dear,” he apologizes, his voice rich with sincerity. you immediately forgive him, not wanting to hold a grudge.

“i am being sent to the countryside tomorrow. satoru will marry ayana's cousin,” you inform him. his brows raise in shock at the speed of the decision.

“and you wanted this?”

“no, i initially wanted to marry you, then sat—“ you stop yourself before you can fully say his name, but nanami already knows. he nods at your almost slip-up.

“i believe moving away is probably for the best, but cutting all contact with all of you is the hardest part,” you say truthfully, your heart aching at the thought of never seeing them again. nanami reaches for your hands, taking them into his larger ones.

“you will always be in contact with me. i shall visit you often and write to you,” he reassures you, his voice calm and steady, making you feel more at ease. "and who knows, perhaps one day i can truly make you my queen," he adds, making you gasp at his words, almost as if he's making a promise to you.

“you are destined to make a great king,” you compliment, rubbing circles onto his hands. his cheeks tint a slight pink beneath his glasses, and he smiles humbly, a touch of warmth in his expression.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

night approaches, and the maids and servants diligently pack your belongings. your room is filled with many helpers, working immediately on the king's orders. your mother and father are nowhere to be seen, their absence suggesting their disappointment in their daughter.

you quietly leave your room and make your way to the staircase, heading towards gojo's quarters. you walk down the long hallway and stand before his door, noting his initials engraved on the wooden surface.

you knock, and he swings the door open, not expecting you. his eyes widen as he sees you standing there, arms crossed, gazing into his puffy eyes—he has been crying.

“my room is filled with servants. may i sleep here?” you ask. he steps aside, allowing you into his spacious room.

“how was the meeting with rina?” you ask, turning to look at him as he locks the door, wanting to know if he has any interest in her.

“i want to move with you,” he says, disregarding your question. you look at him in confusion.

“you know that is impossible. are you truly willing to abandon your future as king for me?” you remind him. he nods, not caring about royal status anymore. you glare at him, wanting him to be realistic.

“please wait for me. i promise i will find you and make you the ruler of this estate,” he says as you step closer, embracing him. he nuzzles his head into your neck.

“i will delay the marriage until i can be with you. just, please, wait,” he pleads, and you chuckle softly at his desperation.

“there will never be a time when we can be together, ‘toru,” you say, shattering his dreams of your future together.

“y-yes, there will be. my father's illness will not last long, and my time as king will soon come. i will bring you back,” he says, choking on his words. he releases you from the embrace, sharing his plan.

you smile at his words, knowing that by the time gojo ascends to the throne, you both will have moved on with your separate lives. you take his hand in yours as you both climb into the large, comfortable bed, cuddling together as you stroke his fluffy hair. his continuous promises of your future together ring in your ears as he slowly drifts into slumber.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

your bags are placed across the grand entrance of gojo's estate. through the large double doors, you see three carriages ready to transport you and your belongings. you’ve barely slept, having spent the night in gojo’s tight embrace.

standing beside your parents, you see the tears welling in their eyes at the thought of their daughter departing. the king and queen arrive, with gojo trailing behind them, a look of sadness all over his face.

“it is indeed a sorrowful sight to see you leave,” the king speaks , “but we must act in the best interest of both our families and your reputation.” your gaze shifts to gojo, whose expression mirrors the anger he felt upon first seeing you enter their home.

“thank you for your hospitality,” you reply, your voice trembling as you bow respectfully to the king and queen. the king gestures for the guards to take the remaining luggage to the carriages, while both sets of parents attempt to accompany you.

“i would request that satoru escort me to my carriage,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. gojo’s face lights up with a mix of relief and sorrow as he takes your hand, guiding you down the grand staircase. your parents and his look on in surprise at your request.

as you descend the steps, you can feel gojo’s sorrow acutely. “i love you,” you confess softly. his eyes glisten with emotion, his cheeks flushing as he averts his gaze to conceal his smile.

reaching the final step and approaching the carriage, a guard opens the door. you slip from gojo’s grasp and turn to face him.

“please wait for me,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he presses his lips to yours. unperturbed by the guards or your parents watching, this kiss is laden with his anguish. he pulls away, tears brimming in his eyes, and kisses your forehead tenderly.

“stay in contact with me, my love,” he says, handing you a letter adorned with your name and a heart. you take it, fighting back tears as you strive to remain composed.

“prince gojo, we are to depart now,” the guard announces, interrupting your moment. you give gojo a final, lingering kiss before entering the carriage. as you adjust your gown in the seat, the guard shuts the door, and you are left alone, moving away.

overcome by emotion, you burst into tears as the carriage slowly begins its journey. gojo stands at the entrance, his heart breaking with each muffled sob that escapes from within. the further the carriage travels, the more his frustration grows—unable to bear the thought of being apart from his true love.

turning abruptly, gojo rushes up the stairs back into the estate, pushing past the concerned crowd as he ignores their calls. all he truly ever wanted was you.

[roseblog-rog]

I Guess I Do Belong in the Woman’s Room.

It’s always a scary endeavor: going into a public restroom as a trans person. There’s always that fear of being outed or shunned or screamed at or punished or SOMETHING. So many risks, all for pissing. But I digress, I have no time to worry due to how badly I have to go.

I enter the woman’s room to find a group of five girls doing makeup in the long mirror which spans the whole bathroom, lined with sinks and soap dispensers. The floor is white with recently cleaned tiles, the gray stalls packed together on the opposite side. The walls are a soft shade of pink that almost feels…comforting. Inviting.

Though no other people aside from the group appear to be in here, I move quick. I swiftly and quietly do my business and exit the stall to wash my hands, moving to the opposide side away from the group of girls, who are now giggling and applying their different colored lipstick. They’re all really fucking pretty, and I feel a warm blush creep up onto my face. I pray their laughter has nothing to do with me. That hope is short lived, however, as one of them—the one with red lips—speaks in a deep airy voice once I finish washing my hands.

“Hey girl, your fly is still open.”

Shit. Well that’s embarrassing. I nod and quickly fiddle with my zipper. I must’ve forgotten to zip it up after buttoning my pants with how much I was rushing to leave. Hopefully they didn’t notice my—

The one with pink lips speaks now, her voice being much higher and softer. “I’m sorry…but is that a bulge?”

Fuck. Now all five girls are glancing down at the bulge in my jeans. It looks so much more obvious in this new light. My face goes completely red.

“No! No. I uh…uhm…” I struggle to formulate an excuse, voice on the verge of cracking with how high and feminine I’m trying to make it combined with the tears starting to form my eyes. My worst fears were being realized, and the most embarrassing part is my gock begins twitching from all the attention.

Red chuckes and speaks again. “Hey, don’t worry girl. In case you haven’t noticed you’re not the only one packing here.”

The blunt response startles me, but with the invitation to look I now notice that all five of them also have bulges, though theirs are much harder than mine, which makes me shiver from…something.

“We didn’t mean to startle you.” Purple speaks in a rough, bright voice, elbowing Pink, who looks down in shame. “We were just, well,” she glances back down at my crotch and smirks “curious.”

“Yeah, sorry for the scary question. We get how it can be in public restrooms.” Pink looks incredibly guilty.

“Haha…yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to get so startled.” My voice settles in it’s natural state, which is still fairly feminine, though deep enough to warrant ‘suspicion’. The blush slowly fades from my face, the tears subside and my breath levels. I’m safe.

“Though I have to ask…why were you so afraid? You belong in here just like anyone else.” Blue pipes in with her quiet and monotone voice, raising an eyebrow at me.

I itch to leave, but something about the group is so comforting and intriguing that I endulge their curiosity. “Well…not really. I mean, I’m at a point in my transition where I’m much more feminine……” I trail off.

“But..?” Purple prompts.

“But I’m still so tall and lanky, my voice is deep, my stubble is annoyingly apparent…I guess I don’t feel pretty enough to be in here comfortably.”

The last member of the group, Orange, walks forward towards me at this response, clearly checking me out. I fidget in place as she gets closer. She’s taller than me, just an inch or two, but still noticeable as I slightly tilt my head up to look at her face. She’s beautiful. Her voice is so silky smooth it brings my blush right back onto my face.

“I think you’re pretty.”

I look down at the ground, my blush reaching embarrassing levels of red. I blush way too easily. “Thank you, uh, I think you’re pretty too.” I notice just how much my voice wobbles, whether it be from embarrassment or being so flustered.

Orange lifts her right hand up to my chin, using her pointer finger to gently lift my face back up to meet her gaze. I twitch again, ugh. “I mean it, how could you think you aren’t pretty enough to be here?”

She turns my body to face the mirror, and I really look at myself: my red and freckled face, my long blonde hair, my wide hips, my bulked up arms, my boobs…everything. Orange stands right behind me, softly smiling as she moves her hands down my waist. It feels so fucking good, I’ve always been so sensitive to touch…but…

“W..wait! I barely know you.” I stutter out as I move away from her. My hardening gock betrays my sentiment, but I ignore it.

Orange’s gaze softens. “That’s okay…forgive me for being so forward.” She glances down. “Though it seems like someone wants more.”

My face feels so hot I think I might just die. I can barely even get any words out, just mindless stutters. The only word I manage to speak before my mind completely blanks is “Please.”

Orange’s gaze darkens with a smirk. “Girls! Let’s help her realize just how pretty she is.”

The five of them now crowd around me, moving me so I once again face the mirror. I’m shaking, my now fully erect gock starting to drip as Red lifts my shirt off of me. Pink goes to undo my jean button and zipper while Black pulls them down. Blue undoes my bra while Orange once again begins feeling up my now exposed body. Despite the circumstances it feels so…freeing. So beautiful and—oh FUCK.

Red begins to kiss just above my right breast, leaving a very obvious lipstick mark. The five of them grin so simultaneously it’s almost terrifying. Almost. They all begin feeling me up while kissing me with their multicolored lips. I’m moaning and whimpering so much at this point that one of them exclaims “Looks like someone’s a noisemaker. She’s adorable!” However, my mind is so fuzzy and warm at this point that I can’t even tell who says it.

They’re pressed so closely against my shaking frame that it’s impossible for me to fall to my knees despite my wobbling. I can feel their hot bodies against mine, hear their heavy breathing as we all start to sweat. My skin begins to be covered with red and pink and purple and blue and orange. Little reminders of this wonderful group.

Soon enough one of them pulls my panties down and immediately makes an excited noise at my hard, dripping gock. “Holy shit! You’re gorgeous!” I then feel the now familiar sensation of a mouth being closed around it, a tongue starting to feel around it, and this earns several loud moans. The kisses from the other four girls get rougher and more sensual: sucking and biting and licking all over my quivering frame.

I feel bliss, seeing my naked body being marked and used and sucked by all these women, and I start to feel so beautiful. I notice the clear markings and lip stains…but I also notice my soft skin and nice curves and all the little things I don’t usually stop to look at. I notice how pretty and shiny my gock is, as each girl takes turns sucking on it.

I feel everything. There’s so much stimulus that I start shaking harder and moaning even more. I can barely hold myself up, but one of them is clutching me tightly by the hips to keep me from falling. “I want you to say how pretty you are.” Of course. Who am I to deny her?

“I’m pretty.” I barely get the words out.

“Again. Say it like you mean it.”

I feel myself teetering on the edge of an orgasm, a rare sensation for me with how far my transition is. I’m now completely coated in multicolored lips and bite marks and hickeys and various fluids. It’s…well, it’s pretty.

“I’m pretty!” I shout it this time, staring myself down in the mirror.

“One more time, you’re doing so good.”

“I’m pretty! I’m so fucking pretty!” I lock eyes with myself as I cum into whoever’s mouth is sucking me. I’m breathing so heavily I’m almost afraid for my safety…but these women are here for me. I’m okay.

They help me sit down and crowd closely around me, the scent of our sweat and their makeup becoming much more apparent. It’s all so wonderful and safe and relaxing that my eyes start to shut as they coddle me and play with my hair.

“It’s okay baby, you can rest.”

The last thought running through my mind is how pretty I am before I fade out of consciousness.

~~~

MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT WOAG!!! Because this is such a momentous occasion and I am so awesome, @xenasaur @lilithtransrights enjoy my cool lil thing.

[cosycafune]

DON’T YOU SEE?

you’re scared, terrified. no matter where you go, ryomen sukuna’s always capable of finding you. you curl, hiding within every corner — but he discovers every limb of you. you long to run, but outrunning someone so powerful refrains from doing you any wonders. don’t you see? why won’t you see?

royalty sukuna x cursed user y/n. book acts: eventually smut, ptsd, terror, abuse, violence, murder, hysteria, breakdowns, distraction and more.

this is simply a small teaser. epilogue: fate’s fool. chapter 0.5.

Thunder etches upon your tainted environment. Your limbs are quivering with shock, dazed and heavy with blasphemous sins. There’s not a fragment of purity that reigns upon you, all of that is stored within the perished body at your nude feet.

Everything’s an ample, twisted sick mess — in the way your eyes exhibit fear, confusion and unshakable distraught. Nothing’s bound to measure up anymore, as you’re left with the choice of eternal punishment or a swift death.

You’ve slaughtered Lord Sukuna’s favourite royal advisor, all because he’s fingers longed to grasp upon you. You, someone who Lord Sukuna deemed as an innocent, untouchable muse — bound to be protected until the end of time lays.

However, you’re tarnished. Your ivory dress’ smeared with anchors of the wailing dead man’s blood. The blood’s taunting your haphazourdly self, glancing down at him — your fingers licked upon with fear for the first time.

Desperately, your eyes are abnormally wide — deathly hope flooding your pounding ears. All you could process is the light wisps of sound, the laughing thunder and the sound of your creeping demise.

Every sick act’s fated to fall in place, but you’re not fate’s fool today.

“Lord Sukuna’s going to murder me, the person he says is the face of innocence,” Frowning, flinching at the intensifying thunder, you mindlessly whisper.

“I was supposed to be his wife, freed of any sins for him,” Silently shrieking, impatient at the lifeless dead body, your heart swirls as your hoarse words fall.

“But now, the end of my reign is here,” Speaking with determined anger, you harshly kick Sukuna’s advisor’s defenseless body — your anger ruling the submissive thunder.

Unwilling to fathom your image being tainted by the sin of man, you continue to kick the man. Kick him for attempting to steal away your innocence, longing to romance you — only to threaten you with planned death.

The young man was keen on you being his own, accustoming to his unknown home and becoming his wife. Becoming a labour machine, delivering his children and raising them until they’re capable of individualism. Not once did you long to mould into his unworthy standard, you’re more than that.

You were.

“I fucking hate you, you greedy pig,” Stirred with disdain, you glance down at your bloody nightgown with a grin — feeling an ounce of sickly freedom.

“I’ve got to leave now or Lord Sukuna’s going to punish me, making me his eternal servant,” Fearful of the idea, you glance at the cooling thunder — looking outside towards the escapable garden.

After all, Sukuna gifted you the second best room — in hopes you one day become his betrothal. A betrothal he was bound to elope when you both turn twenty-one, but you had to leave now. There’s no future in a place that would discriminate against you, shunning you from the purified eternity that once longed for you to cosy in its parted arms.

“If I pretend to have died, too, Sukuna’ll find someone else,” Mumbling with levelheadedness, you search your room for your savings — picking out a stupidly large amount of money and a black clock.

A red clock, just so you could pair with the cloudiness of your untamed sin. A sin you have to coddle because of the greediness of someone else’s heart.

Out the balcony door you go, fleeing from an environment that once caged you within the best ways. Yet, now, you’re set to flee towards a secret cottage you built — away from everything you’ve ever known.

All you pray for is for Sukuna to not find you.

—

Don’t you see? Prologue status: completed.

—

Don’t copy, modify or claim my work to be your own. all rights reserved: cosycafune. 2024.

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

🎁 𝗦𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁!⁠ [5/7] This content has been generously donated by @the_fluffy_folio to be shared while The Griffon's Saddlebag takes a vacation! Please support these creators and their excellent content!⁠ ⁠ Related downloads are available *for free* through the link in my Vacation highlighted story! ⁠ ___⁠ ⁠ Friend Fiend – Tiny fiend (demon), chaotic good⁠ ⁠ Shunned by its kin, misunderstood by everyone else. The friend fiend is a quite eccentric member of the vicious hordes and abyssal monstrosities that plague the lands of the surface-dwellers – and a quite joyful it is. With the sole intent of doing good deeds – and thus often working against the goals of the greater demoniac collective – it journeys from settlement to settlement, only to find itself being mocked, laughed at, frowned upon or chased away. Only the fewest are kind-hearted or wise enough to overcome their fears and welcome the friend fiend among their own.⁠ ⁠___⁠ ⁠ The Fluffy Folio creates whimsical monsters and magical critters that always inspire delight. They're also make the occasional magic item (especially potions), for those of you looking for even more magic items. Monsters from the Fluffy Folio are always a joy to read, and are sure to bring a smile to your face. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[midnight-pluto]

SAIKI K. — headcanons

when they have a crush on you

CHAR: saiki kusuo , teruhashi kokomi, kaidou shun, hairo kineshi, kuboyasu aren, aiura mikoto, saiko metori, nendou riki, rifuta imu, toritsuka reita, saiki kusuke

PAIRING(S): x gn!reader

A/N: first day of school and I’m already posting headcanons, my priorities aren’t straight

˙✧. IN DENIAL (hardcore)

there are two types of denial, this is type one.

these people have acknowledged their crush, but adamantly deny such allegations when brought up from other people.

sometimes they even deny it to themselves but deep down they do know that they have a crush which they’re not ready to admit or pursue yet.

“A crush on them? Why would I…”

kusuo saiki, kuboyasu aren, kaidou shun, teruhashi kokomi

˙✧. IN DENIAL (adrien agreste style)

this is denial type two.

these people, genuinely don’t know or think they have any special feelings for you… but they do. they’re so incredibly oblivious to dusts of red coating their cheeks and ears whenever they talk to you.

eventually by the time they do realize they like you, it’ll probably be to late for them. you’d have moved on, gotten another lover, or just outright got out of their reach.

“Them? No, they’re just a friend.”

hairo kineshi, saiko metori, toritsuka reita, nendou riki

˙✧. CONFESS.

they admit that they like you and confess!

the thing is that they most likely did this immediately after their revelation of their feelings.

there’s a high chance that once the bell rings, they sprint out of the classroom to find you. and once they do, they grab you by your shoulders, look you dead in your eyes and say:

“I like you, will you be my s/o?”

hairo kineshi, kuboyasu aren, nendou riki, rifuta imu, toritsuka reita

˙✧. FRIEND+

“friends with benefits,” is a way to put it. but it’s not really correct.

see, you don’t necessarily know that you get special privileges from them, but you have them. but if you do pick up on the special privileges, please do something about it - this is their only way of confessing.

take these special benefits and upgrade them, to a special status called: s/o

“Only they’re special, not you.”

saiki kusuo, saiki kusuke, saiko metori, rifuta imu, kaidou shun, kuboyasu aren, aiura mikoto

˙✧. WAIT

yes, they wait.

either they wait for you to confess first because they have a fear of rejection, or they’re waiting for their feelings to pass by.

sometimes, it’s both. is it sad? yes. but do they do it anyways? of course.

“No confession? Seriously?”

saiki kusuo, saiko metori, kaidou shun, teruhashi kokomi, rifuta imu, aiura mikoto, kuboyasu aren

[2h3llandb4ck]

Stolas Goetia is a well-known meteorologist whose divine power strikes fear into all across the Underworld. He continues to spread knowledge of astronomy and plants in honor of the deceased, original prince Stolas.

While he primarily watches over the planets and the sky’s upcoming events, he is a rather well-endowed expert on a different kind of magic..

Pure, unadulterated control.

While his Grimmore contains a spell to conjure access to the mortal world, he has a spell accessible to his eyes only; a spell to gather the minds of hundreds, thousands of people below him to listen to him only.

Someone calls him out for being a deadbeat husband? Suddenly they’re a terrible person who “likes tormenting” the poor owl.

Someone doesn’t want to forgive him? Too bad, they forgive him already in spite of him neglecting them hundreds of times.

Someone doesn’t want to return his lustful affections? They’re a terrible person to be shunned by everyone, they are threatened to die. They are his and his only to shower in love and nights of fornication.

It’s everything Stolas wants; he has parts of the Underworld and the minds of hundreds of people he finds relevant enough to keep. He doesn’t want to be woken up from his fantasy. He wants to be coddled for all eternity, he wants to scream out his sad ballads of being unloved, he wants everything to go his way.

It’s his show now.

.

.

.

.

Here’s a fun idea, why not make the canon of HB a Wandavision type of situation? It’s all Stolas.

I was largely inspired by @scarletpixels and @pinkandpurple360 ‘s interpretations of villain Stolas. He had so much missed potential,,

That’s all for today!

[cyb3rtarot]

Pick a Pile: What's an Insecurity You Need to Confront?

Disclaimer: tarot readings are not replacements for professional advice! Take what resonates; don't force a reading to fit. Readings are based on current energy; your future's in your hands. For this reading I used a recolored Smith-Waite, the Osho Zen tarot, and the Oracle of the Radiant Sun.

pile 1⋆pile 2 pile 3⋆pile 4

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) 

Pile 1:

What’s the insecurity?: hi pile one! You seem to have interests that aren’t very socially accepted. You could like things considered “nerdy, childish, cringe, or weird.” Some of you feel like you’re a frivolous or immature person. You may also feel this way about your friend group or job. There’s some sense of awkwardness, embarrassment, or shame about the things that fulfill you. This may be a career that others don’t take seriously—like the arts—or something really niche like being a clown. However, I see most of you still try to pursue what feels right despite others’ pressure.

Why do you feel this way?: I feel you’re wrapped up in how others perceive you. You may fear being shunned, ostracized, and alone. Some of you have already experienced that level of loneliness before, so you don’t want to be pushed out again. You could be or have been the friend who feels least important, like the one who gets pushed off a sidewalk while everyone else walks side by side. Many of you have social anxiety; you could feel like everyone is staring at you or get easily embarrassed.

Current method of dealing with this: you like to take your mind off your insecurities and emotions as fast as possible. When you feel judged, you change the topic really fast, like by making a joke. You might blurt out something you didn’t really mean to redirect attention, like making a joke at someone else’s expense. Your constant flight or fight pushes you towards impulsiveness, and flip-flopping between embarrassment and defensiveness. This could take a physical toll, like feeling very tired after socializing. A few people in this group could’ve been bullies to deflect from their own issues (though others of you were on the receiving end).

Advice for healing: reflecting on how projections create shame is beneficial. When we judge ourselves, we feel everyone else is judging us too. When others judge us unfairly, they’re projecting something from inside themselves outwards. We can stay trapped in a cycle of shame where everyone is unhappy, or accept that we deserve happiness in our harmless interests. By taking a different perspective of your fears instead of accepting them as the full story, you can leave thought patterns you no longer align with. For those who often say things they regret, there’s emphasis on thinking before you speak, and working through thoughts before projecting them outwards. A few of you are entering a new community that will be a great opportunity to work on this. If you were drawn to pile 2 I encourage you to check it out!

Extra details: a bench (especially green), staring, golf carts, driving, dancing, physically active, excitable/hyperactive, bubbly, theater kid, geeky, black hair, cringe culture, shy, fandoms, the comedian/funny friend, always smiling, secret/hidden life, bullying, travel/moving, leaving friends, feeling dumb, fake persona, panic, school friends, college, dorms, fairies (fairly odd parents?), Are We Friends or Not by Zeph

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) 

Pile 2 [TW abuse/childhood abuse]:

What’s the insecurity?: hi pile two! You guys may feel insecure or struggle in what you want to do with your life. You may feel stuck in “analysis paralysis;” constantly ruminating over all the possibilities but never reaching a conclusion. If you compare yourselves to others, it might seem like you’re going very slow in life, a late bloomer, have no solid plan, or like you’re regressing. Some of you struggle with a heavy past, like major childhood trauma that contributes to your present feelings. 

Why do you feel this way?: you have a lot of thoughts in your head that pull you every which way. You might have an inkling of what you want to do, but you get caught in the planning versus the doing. Some of you are stuck between choosing something lucrative or something more purposeful. There are also opinions from others that are confusing you. A few of you have imposter syndrome about a new opportunity, and another few are having problems at a job which is pushing them away.

Current method of dealing with this: this pile seems to deal with it by not dealing with it lol. You want to make the perfect choice so much that you either don’t make any decision or you turn away from what you like. The latter is specific to some of you that have already chosen a more material-focused path but still feel indecisive. However, I don’t feel like you guys are living in an illusion; you’re aware of your situation and the different aspects. You may enjoy the position you’re in despite the insecurity. For example, if you don’t have a job right now, you could enjoy the free schedule. You may like still being taken care of by your family and not having to work. Or, you could enjoy the potential of having many possibilities and not fully committing.

Advice for healing: you need to take a serious look at what you want out of life, what’s important to YOU and not society or others. This includes being more selective with the perceptions and advice you consider; you might also need to be more selective with who’s in your circle. Are there people in your energy who are only there for themselves? Are you maybe a bit too free with sharing your plans and ideas with just everyone? Find out who and what makes you feel fulfilled and empowered. If you also felt drawn to pile 1 I encourage you to look it over!

Extra details: looking for a job or between jobs, optimism, eagerness, vests, libraries, plants, round glasses/brown glasses, light brown hair (especially a bob), quiet or shy kid (some of you outgrew it), teacher’s assistant, childhood trauma or abuse, masculine or androgynous look, horror (the genre), drawing, pop music (some of you love ariana grande 🤨), drag, job opportunities, meditation, overthinking, inner demons, nickelodeon, moving, being busy, lack mindset

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)  

Pile 3 [TW mental illness, substance abuse]:

What’s the insecurity?: hi pile threes! Is everything all right?? You guys have an indecisive energy like pile 2, but it feels philosophical instead of material. The insecurity is life itself. You could be having an existential crisis or existential anxiety. You don’t know your purpose or why you’re here, and this creates a stagnant but chaotic feeling inside. Some of you don’t want to be here. Another part of this “insecurity” is that you don’t share this struggle with most. Because others can’t comprehend what you’re going through, it’s isolating. This pile could be very disappointed with how society and survival works, and don’t want to put their energy into the broken system.

Why do you feel this way?: This group has pressure from themselves and others to be successful and “well-adjusted.” To achieve, move forward, and at least appear “normal.” There’s a great internal struggle happening and the pressure to keep up appearances adds to the stress. Mental health issues feel very significant for this pile. You may still conform to so-called normal life while feeling ready to snap.

Current method of dealing with this: most of this pile puts a lot of energy into keeping up the image. There’s a split self where the external you and internal you are living two different lives. You may like to hang out with friends a lot and focus on their lives instead of your own. Your friend group or the activities you do together seem to be filled with gossip, drama, or other excitement that distracts you from what’s going on. I also see a big struggle with overindulgence or addiction. There’s a sense of feeling out of it during the day and then coming alive at night; you might like to stay up or go out really late. Some of you also use partners to fill the void.

Advice for healing: there’s an extremely strong emphasis on removing yourself from people who no longer align with you. There could be a few people or places that always “enable” you to make choices you regret, or always bring drama and toxicity into your life. Specific people in this pile are in a romantic relationship that makes them feel very unhappy. The advice is to reflect on what takes peace from your life and what you can do to protect yourself from toxicity. If you use relationships to never face yourself, you can re-evaluate the energy you put into them. Some time has to be spent with the self to see what the self wants and needs (if you’re drawn to meditation it can be helpful). I highly encourage everyone who wants or needs them to see what mental health services are accessible to you, and to explore potential healthy coping mechanisms.

Extra details: impatient, may like to sing, vocal stim, or rap, goofy, “IT’S FAKE!”(?), a facade/mask, hiding feelings, uses humor to cope or avoid a topic, trap house, memes, spiritual, viewing life as sacred, anti-capitalism, immigrant family, questioning orientation, substance abuse, painting, bathrooms, the middle of nowhere, courage the cowardly dog, pop music, karaoke, bars and clubs, I think we ALL sing, housing insecurity, the characters Mabel or Sarah Lynn could be significant

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) 

Pile 4:

What’s the insecurity?: hi pile four! This is an insecurity about being vulnerable as your true self due to the oppressive environment around you. It feels like you carry many responsibilities. You’re expected to act strong, carry out duties, maintain tradition, and in most ways you’ve done this. On the inside you reject this way of life, but also feel fear in fully living out that rejection. This pile may deem themselves as weak, immature, or sinful. I also feel many of you want to be taken care of or protected instead of always having to be the carer and protector, and this could contribute to feeling weak.

Why do you feel this way?: living as your true self may mean becoming the black sheep wherever you are. You may be afraid that the fallout will push you into an unfavorable situation, such as having to leave where you currently are. You might’ve already seen it happen to others. I feel many of you have had to live in a mature role or take care of responsibilities since childhood, and this adds an extra layer as to why it’s so hard to break free.

Current method of dealing with this: I feel like you guys are doing the best with what you have! A good amount of this pile has left or is leaving their hurtful environment, and you’re moving into new communities that align with you. For others, this may just be an internal change. Either way, I feel you’re refusing to be bullied into agreeing with things you don’t believe in. One way or another, you’re going to find a way to rebel how you can and live the way you want. It’s just been hard to reflect on ingrained beliefs and sometimes you catch yourself falling back on ideas you don’t mesh with anymore. But great efforts have been made towards the path you want to be on.

Advice for healing: be open to a completely new journey you would’ve never imagined before! There’s already a lot of energy directed towards the life you envision for yourself. You’re encouraged to be open-minded and allow yourself continuous evolution. There’s an emphasis on giving your inner child a lot of grace and space to heal, even if your first impulse is to judge them. Just as others shouldn’t keep you in their box, don’t keep yourself in your own box either! You may have had to develop certain traits to help you leave old, toxic situations, such as having a hard exterior or going ham during your rebellious phase. Keep what still feels good and let go of the rest; embody what you need and want to be in the present and not the past. But, there’s no need to shame other versions of yourself that had different personalities and beliefs; compassion for past selves leads to compassion for the present and future selves :]!

Extra details [TW abuse mention]: teeter-tottering/off-balance, scooby & shaggy, religious trauma, conservative community, church, childhood trauma, abusive relationships, regretting parenthood, religious deconstruction/leaving, becoming more spiritual, new religious beliefs, Buddhism, moving, financial struggle, single parent, hesitating, sea/sea animals, parties or gatherings, moving/travel across the ocean, writing/journaling, nature, herbalism, plant-induced spiritual experiences, acupuncture, purple

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) 

[whereserpentswalk]

The Night Hunt

I need to eat. It’s not eating anymore. It doesn’t feel like thirst or hunger. It’s not something I would have understood as a human. I feel like I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t think anyone would mind if I did. My mouth is shaped so differently than it once was, I can’t move my jaws, I feel empty, I need it to fill me, and I feel empty.

The upper west side vampiric community center was cramped, getting everything it could from limited funds and real estate. The walls were white and the lighting sterile, their deadness only broken by overly enthusiastic posters. It was strange looking at the other vampires in the building, most of them seemed to be doing much better than me. Even most of the ones that ones you could tell weren’t human at a glance usually looked more human than me. It felt like everyone I saw was doing better than me, the petite girl in a black dress talking to her parents on the phone, the bearded man with cats eyes dressed in fancy clothes he had probably owned some version of for centuries, the snake mouthed person guzzling down a can of commercially sold blood like it was soda. I could assume a lot of the vampires I saw here had supportive families, and many others were old enough to be well adjusted to their lives. It almost hurt looking at vampires who could pass better than me, or who could better mask vampiric traits, this embarrassing envy, that I was a monster even by the standards of monsters.

I could have socialized, but I was too tired, and too thirsty. I had just been denied a good behavior slip by the New York State government, and thus denied a month’s supply of donated blood, and the building stopped being somewhere I wanted to be. Most vampires can’t get a good behavior slip, A lot don’t even try just because of how humiliating and restrictive life during the audit can be. A lot of them live off of relatives’ and friend’s blood, or buy it wholesale. I don’t have the option for either of those, at least not consistently.

I walked up Broadway, when I left, below the safety of the dark sky, and the calming yellow light of the windows, past the old brick buildings of a childhood that now seems alien to me. Best to get outside time in while I can, it’s summer, giving me few hours before the sun rises. It’s strange to remember when I walked down that street as a human. That deep loss of something I can remember but will never feel once more. Remembering how easy things were. When the restaurants smelled good to my body, instead of sickly sweet. It would’ve made me cry to see myself reflected in a window, if my eyes had tears to cry. To see I was the type of vampire other even other vampires shunning, too vampiric perhaps, to close to what they all fear being, too close to what they’re all accused of. I used to think of losing my humanity was a horrible fate, and now I am the bad ending for so many other nonhumans. I wonder how many of my kind’s advocates think I’m worthy of oppression. They say not all vampires look horrifying to humans, but I look horrifying to humans. They say not all vampires think violent thoughts about humans automatically, but I find myself doing that so often. They say not all vampires are weak to sunlight, or are hurt by symbols of their prior faith, but I am, and it hurts, and if acceptance means telling people it doesn’t hurt I’ll just get hurt more.

I tried to think of something to distract myself. Tried to think of friends who still cared about me, about that show I wanted to finish, tired to think about that Lord of the Rings fanfic that I wrote in middle school that I had though about on that street, on a bright day so alien to the humid night I walked through. No matter what I thought about there was always blood in the back on my mind. Even when a vampire isn’t thinking about blood directly, when they’re low, as almost fatally low as I was, it’s always able to be felt in the background. I could feel my body’s desire for blood, feel the pain and weakness of not having it. It was strange, to know that my body hurt because it wanted like, that my body only transformed into a vampire because it would have died from being bitten by one if it hadn’t. My body wanted to live as a vampire so much more than I did. My hands shook, my gate more unbalanced, more stumbling than it usually was, my twisted and inhuman mouth, the most inhuman part of my body, salivating. The staggered and almost animalistic walk must have made me look even more like a monster. The pigeons flew away when they saw me, they must have known, or maybe that’s just what pigeons are like.

 My once tan skin now so pale my organs are visible, my once fit body now skinny, my brown eyes forever white, and my mouth perfectly round and unmoving and filled with sharp tooth after sharp tooth like a lamprey. All so perfect to drink blood, all built to drain blood. It hurts to think I’ll probably be in this body for centuries. The same hoodie I’d been wearing for days still covers me a bit, as does my mess of uncut hair, I don’t really have to wash these things without human oils on my body anymore. It’s not good to think too long about that fact. There is no wonder my parents would rather consider their precious daughter basically dead, than know that she lived as this. I might do the same if I had a choice. I think about when I was turned sometimes, how I didn’t get to be turned out of love, or lust, or spite, how the bite was meant to kill me, how it would have killed me if I wasn’t rushed to the hospital, or if I hadn’t fought the attacker off. I never even knew the name of the vampire who attacked me. I didn’t know why he did at the time, I assumed it was from hate, I understand now, I would never defend attacking someone like that but I understand, he was hungry, I know how it feels to want blood like how he must have. People would have had me better in their memories if I had died, nobody admits it, but it’s true, my parents convinced themselves I had on religious grounds, saying my soul had left my body, I understand why, my reputation was not tarnished.

As I walked past stores and restaurants that had closed hours earlier, saw how little the world wanted me. I wondered how I would keep existing. I remembered that my transformation has made it so I wouldn’t age, couldn’t die a natural death at all, I realized how strange it would be for me to exist in a body like the one I did for hundreds more years, thousands if I got lucky. There was the feeling that maybe I’d be murdered, most of society didn’t even want the most human passing, most privileged vampires to live, it sucked even for people who had it so much better than me, maybe I’d just die, maybe one of those monster hunter gangs would finally due me in like they always threaten to online. But what if I didn’t, what if I had to still live. If I actually had put the work in to having positive relationships with the community maybe some vampiric elder would be able to tell me. As it was I felt lost, I didn’t know what I could be doing a hundred years from where I stood. Would things be better than, for me, for us? Would I be ok?

For a moment my eye caught a girl around my age. As a human I would have felt lust for her, she had that exact look that I used to like. Glistening hair dyed a candy colored red, a pale pink Cowboy Bebop t-shirt covering her chest. I would have felt lust, or perhaps a more noble sounding attraction, but now that part of me is gone, and seeing a young healthy body like that just makes me think about what it would be like to drink her instead of making me think about being in bed with her. I knew it was wrong, but it would feel so good, to feel my mouth punch into her neck, and drain her dry. I don’t want to feel this way, the logical part of my brain doesn’t like feeling this way, but it’s a feeling in my body. When I looked at her soft skin my teeth ever so slightly extended outwards, and the tiredness from the pain of thirst temporarily ceasing as my body filled with energy, my dreaming mind fantasizing about holding her as I drank her blood, as ashamed as I am of such thoughts, as little as I’d want to ever hurt someone like her, it felt so good in the moment just to fantasize. It was the closest I still had to feeling anything sexual or romantic, as many social media posts as there are telling you it’s a myth that all vampires lose their sexual or romantic feelings, it’s true for me, I don’t even have breasts or sex organs anymore, as horrifying as that is to even acknowledge about myself. Just another thing that makes me seem less human, and just another thing that makes drinking human blood seem to desirable. I didn’t want to hurt her, just looking at her walking, she seemed so happy, so pure.

I did nothing, yet she still crossed the street. I understood, it was late, and I was a ragged looking vampire walking near her, she had a right to feel safe. I ran, as thirsty as my body was I didn’t want to be near her, and didn’t want to cause a scene.

Best to flee uptown, Time Square is filled with Faeries, and Central Park with werewolves, and neither take kindly to my kind in the places they tend to hang out. There is a safety in being human, despite all the stories of young maidens scratched up in monster’s arms, with blood contrasting on top of their pretty white skin, most monsters with ill wills are way more likely to target other species of monster rather than humans. Humans are often well armed, and well defended by the law, and so many monsters are so eager to prove their kind’s validity through their hatred of another species of monster.

My running only stopped when I had to cross the street to avoid a church. One of those big ornate ones you’d see a vampiric villain hang out in in a thriller movie, with that shining stained glass they haven’t built in generations. They say it’s not anything divine that burns vampires that are weak to holy symbols, it’s just the memory of faith that hurts, the memory of the most human of all actions. Doesn’t change the fact that the pope still says we don’t have souls. The church ghosts all fled, they floated somewhere else just from seeing me, I wanted to yell to them “What? Are you too good even to haunt me.” I didn’t of course, I didn’t want to cause a scene. Maybe I would have if I wasn’t so weak from thirst.

I can’t get blood. The state won’t give it to me. My friends would say no if I asked. I can’t afford to buy it. I dropped out of school when I was turned, there wasn’t accommodation, and late classes were hard to get. Most of the friends I still have either treat me like a tragedy to fawn over, or like I could kill them at any time, they’re only human after all. I guess that’s why they recommend socializing with other monsters. I barely look for work anymore, even well-meaning humans are uncomfortable around me, though to be fair I’ve done nothing not to make them uncomfortable, and it’s impossible to ask them to close daytime windows, or keep silver and garlic away.  I spend so much time on the internet. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be this thirsty. I don’t want to look this way, and I don’t want to need blood. I never chose any of this, never chose to be bitten, never chose to be saved.

For a moment I saw another person on the street, alone with me. Some rich kid staggering drunk and barely knowing where he is, a sweatshirt from some fancy wizarding school clinging on to his body. His rosy yet pale cheeks, so vulnerable, not so privileged that he could hurt me, just privileged enough to feel like every bad though I could have towards him was punching up. He was the exact type of asshole that I’d expect to call me a slur, to be proud that wizards like him had engaged in just enough vampire hunts in the thirties and forties to be considered another type of human. But he didn’t. He didn’t notice me at all, he just sang to himself with his earbuds in and his eyes glued to his phone as he stumbled past closed stores.

I can smell blood on his lips. I remember that there is another way to quench my thirst. I’d have to drain him dry so that nobody would know. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that type of vampire. His body is so fresh, I’d be full for like a year. I can’t stop looking at him and remembering my life. He’ll run but I can catch up to him, and he’ll taste so good. And I would be so hard to catch if I drained him to death, he’s a stranger, the case would go cold. I need blood, and he has blood, it’s like a trolly problem, you don’t need sadism to pick yourself when you’re tied to the tracks. And I can’t think of another way I could get blood before starving to death.  It feels weird to grab his wrist as he struggles, too thirsty to think too deeply. I don’t want to look at his face when he screams, but something deep within me is excited to hear a human scream. I feel sorry for him I think, he didn’t deserve this, I didn’t deserve this, if things were different… well they aren’t different. God my voice sounds demonic with this mouth. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

[the-invisibility-bloke]

The thing is, fandom used to be this underground subculture, then over the years it started gaining widespread popularity, got “normalized” which literally means infiltrated by normies and now we’re in this horseshit war of people who don’t belong in artistic spaces and don’t understand the purpose of art, judging others for impure imaginations, once again proving that popularity ruins good things, anyway fandom belongs to the outcasts, it always did, we should take it back, so please for the love of god don’t let the fear of Orwellian judgment stop you from creating the art you want, if your friends will shun you for writing somno tentacle incest chan then they’re shitty friends, at the very least post anon or under an alt account, just get it out, someone will love it, your art says nothing about your character, create what you want and fuck the rest and above all fuck censorship

[hottpinkpenguin]

"Just because all the others never showed you love doesn't mean no one ever will." This one with the Darkling with angst to fluff? Like maybe he keeps pushing the reader away because he's new to affection and doesn't know what to do?

A/n: this request felt so spot on for our favored tortured villain <3 thank you for the message anon!!

Darkling X Reader Word Count: 1656 | Warnings: not proofread, brief mentions of battle, hints at past abuse if you squint, super angst turns to tooth-rotting fluff

Note: dorogoy is the Russian for 'sweetheart' “Leave us.” 

The Black General strode in, his eyes murderous and his fists balled at his sides. Despite the warm summer night, the chill in his voice was enough to send a shiver up everyone’s spine. The two Healers rose from the sides of your cot where they’d been tending your injuries. They bowed quickly and kept their eyes glued to the ground as they scuttled out of the tent, leaving you and the Darkling alone. 

When the sounds of the retreating Healers’ footsteps had been swallowed in the gentle murmur of the camp outside, his eyes finally met yours. He looked as if he were about to break apart, his body practically abuzz with barely contained rage. 

“Aleks, I’m fine,” you chided him, rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “It’s just a burn. I’ll survive.”

Darkness blossomed around him, swallowing the dim candlelight on the inside of your tent. His jaw was clenched so tightly you worried he’d break a tooth, the veins in his forehead pulsing as he tried to regain control of himself. You’d seen his power a thousand times, but even still it startled you. You smoothed your face into a mask of calm, refusing to show him your instinctual fear. 

“You almost died, dorogy.” He sank down on the edge of your cot as the shadows receded into him like water soaks into a sponge. “You are decidedly not fine.” 

You smiled at him, shifting slightly to make room for him on the cot next to you. He was watching you, his eyes drinking you in. You could hear his next question before he even asked it. 

“Are the Healers treating you fairly?” The whisper of a threat hung off Aleksander’s words. You knew that his fear was that the other Grisha would shun you because of his affection for you. A fear you’d tried to quell a thousand times before. If only he knew how terrified the others were of hurting you, of disappointing you, or of otherwise mistreating you… 

You reached out, running your fingertips lightly along the back of his hand. He watched you, waiting for an answer. 

“They’re treating me perfectly,” you assured him emphatically. “I have everything I need.” 

He didn’t respond immediately, transfixed by the circular patterns you wove along the back of his hand. His eyes glazed over, his shoulders dropping slightly as he let the facade of the Black General relax in your presence. You watched him carefully, wondering how he managed to maintain such composure and control in the midst of battle. You’d seen him out there, on the battlefield: an avenging angel, all rage and cruelty, his black kefta fluttering like a flag, cutting down wave after wave of Fjerdan. He’d barely flinched, barely shown any sign of his powers draining him. It filled you with a strange combination of sorrow, pride, and lust. 

“Aleks?” Your voice, though quiet and gentle, snapped the moment like a dry twig. He looked up at you expectantly. “Are you alright?” 

You could tell as soon as the words left your lips that you’d said something wrong. He recoiled away from you as if he were the one that had been burned. His eyes widened in a mixture of shock and horror, followed immediately by self-loathing. You reached out, but not quick enough. He rose from the cot, stepping away from you. 

“How can you ask that of me? After what you saw today? After what I put you through? You want to know if I am alright?” His composure was unraveling, his dark eyes turning into bottomless pits of fury with nowhere to go but inward. He’d once told you that the most unexpected part of living so long was the extent to which he had come to loathe himself. You hadn’t understood it then, but now you caught a glimpse of just how deep Aleksander’s malice towards himself actually went. 

The shadows sprung from his fingers with ease, devouring the tent’s light and swarming around you like bees. The air around you crackled with their presence, although they didn’t touch you. Across the tent, consumed by a darkness so complete he almost vanished entirely, Aleksander shook with the explosive force of his power. His chin was tipped back and his mouth open as if screaming, although the only thing pouring out of his throat was more darkness. His eyes lost their whites, now just two blackened sockets, lifeless and unholy-looking. 

Terror seized you. Your heart jolted as adrenaline ricocheted through your veins. You knew Aleksander would never hurt you, although you weren’t sure how much  of the man you loved was still with you in that tent. 

You called out to him, but somehow your voice vanished in the space between you two. As if you’d been plunged underwater, your scream sounded distorted and dull. Aleksander didn’t even flinch. 

Wincing through the pain, you flung your legs over the edge of the cot. The shadows made way for you like a river parts around rocks. The hairs on the back of your arms and neck stood up straight, your instincts screaming at you to run! Leave! Kill him! Get out! 

Summoning your strength and with a sharp inhale, you forced your legs to hold your weight as you stood. The burns that climbed up the left side of your body from your kneecap to your jaw felt white hot, but you grit your teeth against the urge to pass out and took a shaky step forward. Again, the shadows pouring out of Aleksander moved to allow your passage. A distant part of you idly wondered what the rest of the camp could see, if anything, of the spectacle unfolding around you. 

Your feet almost slipped out from under you in the damp grass. Your reflexes dulled by exhaustion and pain, you lost your balance and pitched forward. You struck out with your arms to brace your fall, twisting your face away from the direction of impact. There was a moment of free fall before you felt strong arms catching you, artfully avoiding your burns. 

Aleksander lifted you easily off your feet in a sweeping motion. You didn’t open your eyes until you felt your back settle against the cot. When you did, a familiar face hovered over you. All trace of his shadows gone, all you saw now was a man. A leader, a saint maybe, a King certainly: but a man still, exhausted and confused. 

Before he had a chance to speak, you pressed a finger to his lips. Your head was spinning with pain, but you forced yourself to stay present. 

“I’m not afraid of you, Aleks,” you insisted. You held his gaze defiantly, challenging him to argue with you. For once in his stubborn life, he held his tongue and let you finish. “I don’t resent you for who you are. I don’t fight because you command me as my general, or even because you ask me as my lover. I fight beside you because I love you, and I believe in what we’re doing.” 

For all his wisdom, you knew that there were parts of your heart that Aleksander would never understand. You’d accepted as much a long time ago. But you’d be damned if you let him rip himself apart over it. 

He swallowed thickly, as if trying to take in what you’d told him. 

“I don’t… understand. How you can feel that way. About… someone like me. Someone who is what I am. There’s… sometimes-most of the time- it doesn’t seem like there’s enough left of me to love.” You let him finish, his words coming out chopped and halting. It seemed to take almost as much out of him as his powers did, and the sincerity with which he spoke made you smile gently. When he was finished, you reached up and cupped his cheek, your thumb carefully tracing the ragged volcra scar that bisected his cheek. 

“Aleks. Just because all the others never showed you love doesn’t mean no one ever will.” 

You watched as his memory clicked into place, recognizing the very words he’d said to you the night he’d finally gotten you to tell him about the others. The men before him. The ones who’d tried and failed to love you, and the ones who’d only wanted to hurt you. Those had been the words he’d said, and the reason you’d fallen in love with him. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been waiting to give those words back to him. 

He marveled at you for a moment as if seeing you for the first time before he spoke. “I wasn’t talking about any others,” he said quietly. 

You shook your head, smiling. “Of course you were,” you answered. “The other lives, the other versions of yourself. That’s all you talk about because it’s all you know. You’ve lived with yourself for so long you’ve forgotten that there’s any way to feel about yourself but hatred.” 

You let your hand drop, a sudden wave of exhaustion crashing over you. He noticed, catching your hand halfway down and guiding it to the top of your sheets. 

“Dorogoy,” he started, hesitating a moment on the pet name he’d given you. “Where have you been all my lives?” 

You beamed at him, finally hearing a break in the tension of his voice. He smiled back - not a broad smile, but enough to touch his eyes. 

“Right here, Aleks,” you replied as you let your eyes drift closed for sleep. 

You didn’t let yourself fully succumb to rest until you felt his warmth lay down next to you, his arms ever so carefully snaking around your torso. He tucked you closer to him, and you buried your head in his neck, breathing in the scent and the feel of him. You felt yourself slide off into sleep just as he started singing you an old Ravkan lullaby…

[starlight-archer]

i’d really appreciate a hurt/comfort payneland fic with cuddling on the couch or possibly a fic where they fuck with election ballots bc they’re ghosts and get kamala elected instead 😭 it’s been something i’ve been thinking of since before the results were out and i just think it’s be silly. thanks in advance for considering!

Here it is! Charles and Edwin enlist some American ghosts to fuck with the ballots and then cuddle! I hope you enjoy and that this lifts your spirits a bit!!

"Phew!" Charles tumbled back through the mirror, panting, Edwin not too far behind him, hands clinging to the sides of his jacket from behind. "That was a bit close for comfort, wasn't it?"

They had almost been caught, but had managed to slip away before things could get hairy. They had also made sure that their actions couldn't be tracked back to them.

"Charles, that might be the most egregious understatement that I have ever heard from you." Edwin didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Honestly, he was still shaken from the whole experience. They didn't often pay heed to foreign politics, let alone the politics of the living, but this had been necessary. There had been no way that either if them could sit still when they had caught wind of what was about to happen.

Sitting through Brexit and the Tory reign in England had been bad enough, goodness knows things were still pretty cocked up even without them in power (big messes to clear up and all that). But, sitting through a second Trump presidency when the only reason for it was some miserable concoction of sexism, racism, queerphobia, and thousands of people just refusing to vote?

Unconscionable.

Sure, what they had done was definitely illegal (oh it was so, so illegal), and probably questionable on some level, but it was clear as day that the pros of such a venture far, far outweighed the cons. If anything, this absolutely counted as a good deed.

Even if it did break some pretty strict rules about the dead tampering with the affairs of the living.

They would simply have to be on their best behaviour from now on.

It would be fine.

And what had they done exactly?

They had mirror hopped over to the US and simply enlisted some willing participants to fill in all of the blank ballots with votes. By the time they were done, it was just enough to tip the scales in a less devastatingly horrifying direction.

It was for the American citizens that would be thrust into suffering because of that awful man and his depraved followers, it was for the minorities from various walks of life who would face the potential of having to fear for their lives, due to the inciting of violence by emboldened right-wing extremists. For the people who were hated unduly, just for daring to exist.

And it was daring. It was an act of bravery and courage that deserved respect.

Both Charles and Edwin had lived through times where being different could get you killed. Existing had been illegal, frowned upon, hidden behind closed doors, punished with torture masquerading as therapy, shunned, and erased from the history books.

Never again.

Never like that.

Why did history always have the nastiest habit of repeating itself? Over and over and over again. Maybe hell was empty.

But they had done it, done what they had impulsively set out to to and they had succeeded. It was almost surreal.

And, perhaps most importantly, they hadn't done it alone.

They had gone to each state one by one and contacted as many ghosts as they could, gathering all those who had been unable to vote, who had their voices stolen from them, and for each ballot that was left blank, the ghost of an American citizen fought for the people they had been forced to leave behind.

A great deal of them had even moved on afterwards.

"Come on, mate. It's alright, it's over." Charles' warm voice cut through the noise in Edwin's mind. "Come and sit."

Charles put his hands over Edwin's (which were still situated at his waist, balled up in the fabric of his jacket). Gently, he eased his grip and moved to link their fingers together as he faced his best friend.

Immediately, a large amount of the tension drained from Edwin's body. It was as though a weight that had previously been crushing him, had life away from his shoulders in an instant. It had been a lot, but it was done and it was going to be okay.

He allowed Charles to lead him over to their little sofa by the wall. It was a familiar position, sitting side by side, hands joined in an act of mutual comfort and reassurance.

Neither of them said anything for a long while. They didn't really need to.

Charles leaned back against the sofa and wrapped an arm around Edwin, pulling him closer until his head was resting on Charles' shoulder. He didn't hesitate to run his fingers through Edwin's soft, dark hair.

He revelled for a moment, in his ability to express such affection. It was something so simple and yet, until they had left Port Townsend, it had been shut behind this unspoken boundary that neither of them had dared to cross.

They did a lot of things now that they hadn't dared to before, and far more things that they had already done, but that had the context rearranged.

It was kind of magical; being together in this new way. It almost felt like something that had been fated, something foretold, painted in the stars and woven into the fabric of every reality.

And yet, it felt so normal, so simple. It was like they were created to be a matched set, despite being from different eras in time. Like salt and pepper shakers, or a pair of shoes. Sure, maybe you could have one without the other but it was always preferable to have both.

Charles was prompted to recall the time when Crystal had compared them to one of her Internet jokes: "bonded pair, do not separate." or "items frequently bought together".

Despite falling easily into the romantic side of their developing relationship, it still surprised him a little bit when Edwin shifted to wrap his arms around him. If only he could go back and tell his past self that things could truly be this good, this sweet, this wonderful.

Charles used to question his goodness, used to fear becoming like the people who hurt him. But, with Edwin next to him, he couldn't find any shadow of fear or doubt left in his heart.

[akuzondotcom]

OM! Pet HCs Part 3

Leviathan:

Henry 2.0, a Devildom Goldfish with dwarfism. Whilst your typical Devildom Goldfish would grow to a size of 1 metre, Henry is stunted to the size of a human world piranha. Henry’s personality is,,, well, he’s a goldfish. He’s hungry, poops and is big, idk what personality to gather from that. But uhh yeah.

Despite Leviathan often talking to Henry, Levi has no real way to communicate with the fish, as Devildom goldfish don’t have the mental capacity to house thoughts complex enough to form sentences. Even when talking with a being who can speak to fish, he merely produces babbles.

So every time Leviathan is caught talking to Henry, it’s an entirely one way conversation. Never the less their bond is strong as ever.

Devildom Goldfish are Omnivorous and consume anything, and I mean ANYTHING in sight, from plants, to garbage, to other fish, (as such Henry 2.0 is kept alone in his tank for fear of his tankmates safety). They’re actually considered quite the pest in the wild due to their tendency to swiftly diminish a waterways resources. However Leviathan just sees this as them both being outcasts. Loners, shunned by society.

Likes: Leviathan

Dislikes: Nobody

Also, I know canonically Levi’s goldfish is the size of a normal human goldfish. But I wanted an excuse to come up with a demon goldfish, and I can think of nothing scarier then a normal goldfish, but big enough to eat everything around it.

[pillow-anime-talk]

cheerful and talkative reader.

request: hi, can i make a request? casically it’s some headcanon of how the kamaboko squad, genya and kanao are with a reader who is a very cheerful and talkative person but one day they becomes quieter since another person (maybe another demon hunter) told them that they’re annoying and that they should shut up very rudely, perhaps some headcanon of how they are dealing with that situation when seeing that the reader no longer speaks as much as they learned to love, i hope it is not a bother! have a nice day~

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; fluff; but also a little bit of angst; cute!reader; protective!lovers; frogs mention (in inosuke part); sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. genya shinazugawa, inosuke hashibira, kanao tsuyuri, tanjirou kamado, zenitsu agatsuma {kny}

author’s note: love uuuu! 

— GENYA

↘ You are definitely the opposite of your boyfriend – you are cheerful, smiling, always willing to help other peers, you love closeness, you love jokes and you really enjoy spending time with your closed ones. Genya is rather aloof but also short-tempered and is not afraid to raise his voice at someone, dislikes being surrounded by many people and tries to avoid anything that might have to do with human interaction.

↘ It was a sunny afternoon, you had some free time for the first time in weeks; some focused on training like Tanjirou, some went to the nearest city to buy a few things like Nezuko, Kanao or Aoi, some slept for several hours like Zenitsu, and some ran around the forest and chased animals like Inosuke. You also had many things planned; you wanted to clean up, rest a bit and bake cookies with your boyfriend, but you didn’t show up at the appointed place the day before. So Genya went to the Mitsuri residence, who was your master and you her tsuguko.

↘ There he found you sitting on a wooden engawa with a cup of steaming herbal tea and a sad expression on your face. And although your partner has not shown much affection in your relationship, this time without the slightest comment he sat right behind you and hugged you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder.

↘ “We'll talk about it later, okay?” He asked, and you just nodded, slightly tilting the right corner of your mouth upwards.

↘ You knew that the stupid comments thrown at you were just to destroy your day off, but you were still very sad that day – luckily you could count on support from the person closest to your heart and you appreciated it very much.

— INOSUKE

↘ You ran to your boyfriend, showing him a tiny green frog. She looked sick – her delicate skin was dry, but there was nothing strange about it, the valley had been extremely hot for several days, and there was still no sign of rain. Scared, you started asking him questions one after another, hoping that your lover would help you with the sad-looking amphibian.

↘ You’ve always had a loud voice, so your monologue was heard by several people walking towards the pool. You never caused anyone a problem, you were really kind and helpful, but that day one of the Demon Slayer Corps members had a very bad headache, so your voice spreading between the wind noise was definitely not on hand.

↘ “Ey, will you shut up finally? It’s just a stupid frog that doesn’t even know you want to help it.” The teenager looked at you pissed, and you instantly fell silent, looking at the little frog again.

↘ “I-I’ll take her to the pond.” You whispered towards Inosuke and he just nodded towards you. At the same moment you walked away a few steps, your partner approached the boy sitting on the bench.

↘ “Want to make your head hurt even more, huh?!” He screamed, almost immediately causing another attack of health ailments in the young man and, by the way, fear visible in his eyes.

— KANAO

↘ Kanao has almost never been in public and has also never raised her voice before because of her emotions. She shunned large groups of people and the only people she had a very close relationship with were you, the Butterfly Mansion girls and Mrs. Shinobu, as well as Tanjirou, Zenitsu and Inosuke and sometimes Genya.

↘ You and Kanao have been dating for a while; it was a very calm and understanding relationship. You understood her way of being and she understood yours. You two were extremely different, but you had a really good time and you weren’t bothered by her silence at certain moments, and she was never bothered by your cheerful attitude and perpetually smiling face. She considered it an asset and an extremely cute quality.

↘ And she was sure everyone thought the same; you were a really good person and surrounded yourself with a bright aura of love and understanding every day. You were always the first to help someone, you always tried to make everyone around you happy, you often sacrificed your health for work and other people. That's why Kanao was surprised to hear two boys talking, laughing at your childish and carefree behavior. Plus, they called you ‘stupid’ and ‘fake’.

↘ That day, Kanao had a serious conversation with Oyakata-sama, who admonished her not to use the katana if there were no demons around... But he also praised her for standing up for you.

— TANJIROU

↘ Tanjirou was not a person who was drawn to conflict – quite the opposite. He is the calmest and most understanding guy you know; he is always honest and tries to make each party happy.

↘ However, there are two exceptions that cause Tanjiro to release a huge amount of anger, and these are situations when someone hurts his beloved sister and his dearest partner, i.e. you.

↘ The young demon hunter has an excellent sense of smell, so he immediately sensed the salty taste of tears wafting in your little house. He immediately dropped the katana, the basket full of fresh strawberries and mint, and the blanket he had bought especially for you, which you had been dreaming about for a long time. Within seconds he was in your bedroom and immediately turned his gaze to the bed where you were curled up sniffling.

↘ It took him several long minutes to calm you down and talk about how you were treated today by three members of the Corps.

↘ Until you fell asleep, Tanjirou was calm and composed. Until you closed your eyes, he kept stroking your head and telling you about the nice things you’d do together whenever you got more than a couple of hours off.

↘ However, as soon as you fell asleep, Tanjirou got up and left the house – no one had the right to hurt you and the young man was going to make the three people you mentioned aware of it.

— ZENITSU

↘ You and Zenitsu look alike! You are both walking balls of happiness, as long as there are no demons and scary people around. You love to joke with each other, you are always full of ideas and you love spending time together. Since you became close and became a couple, Tanjirou has to guard not two, but three people (and Nezuko, but she is really good and loves her wooden box).

↘ Usually when you’re walking downtown and talking, a lot of people pay attention to you - they usually don’t have a problem with your laugh and even consider you two really cute teenagers in love, however today a little incident happened.

↘ You walked hand in hand along the main street where huge tables with various delicacies and crafts were spread out. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t buy a little snack for the two of you, and in the process made a joke about something that didn’t even make sense at the moment. Your silly joke, however, didn’t sit well with the man at the stall next door, who just muttered something unintelligible under his breath and then glanced at you.

↘ “Just shut up, you’re scaring my clients away.”

↘ “I... I’m sorry?”

↘ “What did you say?” Before you registered exactly what the man said in your direction, Zenitsu immediately hid you behind his body and measured the man in his forties with his eyes. The teenager grabbed the katana, but didn’t take it out. This made it clear to the stranger that there was no point in messing with you, much less the golden haired boy.