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Master list

Hi!! Welcome to my master list This is the central hub for all of my stories, ideas, and ongoing projects. Here, you’ll find links to every piece I’ve written from completed works to works-in-progress, from short one-shots to multi-chapter epics.

Use this list to discover something new, revisit a favorite, or see what’s currently in the works. I’ll keep it updated as new stories are posted, so check back often.

Happy reading, and thank you for your support!

Fandoms I write for

Fnaf

Demon slayer

Hazbin hotel

Helluva boss

Attack on titan

JJK

Mononoke

Tshd

One punch man

You can request fandoms as well!

Things I will NOT write❗️❗️❗️

CnC

Underaged characters

Self-harm

No incest

i will take request for aged up characters to an extent. I will not write anything with a character being under the age of 18!!

Please lmk if you want to be added to a tag list for any of my posts!!

FNAF

Michael afton💜

Washing machine heart-

Demon slayer

Upper-moons / muzan

Akaza

headcannon

Akaza x pregnant wife

One shot ❄️ Akaza x preg wife smut

Just stay close-OneShot

ongoing Series ❄️

A heart left unburied

Part1 > Part2 >>>

Hashiras

Sanemi

One-shot 🍃

A new kind of love- oneshot > part2?

Hazbin hotel / helluva boss

Lucifer Morningstar

Ongoing series ✨

A deal with the devil

Part1 > part2

Washing machine heart

✰: Michael afton x reader

✰: part 3

✰Summary: angst/romance based on the song washing machine heart

✰TW: violence, gore,

The morning felt slower than usual. You sat at your small kitchen table, a mug of coffee cupped between your hands, steam curling up in soft ribbons. The house was quiet too quiet and your thoughts filled the silence in a way that felt heavy and restless. You hadn’t slept much. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw him the look in his eyes outside your door, the apology he’d forced out through clenched restraint, the way his presence lingered in the air like a shadow that refused to leave. Michael Afton distant, sharp, unreadable. Yet somehow… tethered to you. You traced your thumb along the rim of the mug, staring at the grain of the table you knew better. you knew the way he spoke to you sometimes the control the tension the way he pulled you close and pushed you away in the same breath. You knew he was dangerous,Unstable,Cold. You knew the hurt in your chest wasn’t coincidence it was erosion. It was the way he hollowed you out a little at a time, yet made you want to stay anyway. You wondered what that made you.

Desperate?

Lonely?

Pathetic?

You pressed your lips together or just someone who wanted to believe there was something human beneath the armor he wore? There were moments brief, fragile where you swore you saw it. The hesitation in his voice the way he lingered. The apology he didn’t know how to give but tried to anyway and last night… the look in his eyes. Not possession not cruelty something quieter. Something that felt like it might break him if he let it surface your chest tightened. You imagined foolishly, hopelessly what it would be like if he softened, even a little. If he allowed himself to be honest. If the walls finally cracked and he admitted why he kept you close. Silly fantasies, you scolded yourself. He didn’t do warmth he didn’t do tenderness and yet…You thought about the way he always showed up when you were vulnerable. The way he hovered close when the world felt dangerous. The way he watched you like losing you wasn’t an option. Maybe that wasn’t affection maybe it was control maybe it was something darker. But a part of you the part that wanted to be held even if it meant breaking wondered if there was a chance… even a small one… that there was something real inside him. Something scared something aching something that reached back when you reached toward him. You took a slow breath what was your next move? Walk away before he hollowed you out completely? Or stay in the orbit you knew would bruise you…because some part of you believed he could change? Because some part of you believed he already was? You rested your head against your hand, eyes distant, heart caught between hope and resignation. Between fantasy…and the faint, dangerous possibility that it wasn’t just in your head. That something inside Michael Afton really was beginning to shift and that you might be the reason.

Your phone sat on the table beside your coffee mug you stared at it for a long time. Your thumb hovered over his contact over the name you’d saved months ago. You’d opened the call screen three times already… and closed it each time. You shouldn’t. You knew better. You should give him space. You should protect yourself. You should let last night fade into silence the way it always did. But the apology lingered the look in his eyes lingered. The feeling that something had shifted wouldn’t leave your chest your heart beat unevenly before you could overthink it again…You pressed call. The ring tone echoed in your ear once… twice… three times you almost hung up. Then the line clicked there was a pause not empty, not quiet just… him breathing present waiting “…Hello.” His voice was low, steady, controlled as always but something in it felt heavier. Like he hadn’t expected you to call… and didn’t know what it meant that you had You swallowed “Michael… it’s me.” Another small pause. You imagined him standing somewhere still shoulders tense, jaw set, expression unreadable. “I know,” he said softly Of course he did. Your breath caught in your throat. “I was… um… I was wondering if we could talk.” You expected him to deflect. To shut it down. To remind you that he wasn’t that kind of person that talking implied vulnerability he didn’t allow. Instead…Silence stretched for a few seconds. You could almost hear him thinking. Processing, Fighting something, “About… what?” he asked not cold, not harsh just careful. You hesitated, fingers tightening around the phone “About the other night,” you said quietly. “About… us. Or… whatever this is.” You hated how fragile your voice sounded you hated how exposed it made you feel. Another silence this one felt different not rejection not dismissal conflict. You pictured him running a hand through his hair, pacing, jaw tense, emotions clawing upward from a place he didn’t want to acknowledge. “I don’t…” he began then stopped he exhaled slowly “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” The words should have stung. They did but not in the way you’d expected there wasn’t rejection in them there was fear “Why?” you asked softly. You weren’t challenging him you weren’t pushing you just…wanted to understand His voice dropped quieter, rougher “Because,” he said, after a long moment, “when we talk… things get complicated.” Your chest tightened complicated?You swallowed hard “Michael… I just… I don’t know what to think anymore,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I’m imagining everything. Or if there’s actually something there. And I… I need to know if I’m being stupid.” The honesty trembled out of you. You hated how vulnerable it sounded he didn’t respond right away.

You thought for a moment that he might hang up instead…His voice returned softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’re not stupid,” he said the words sounded like they’d been dragged out of him. Like he didn’t want to say them…but couldn’t lie to you. You blinked, breath catching “Then… please,” you whispered. “Just talk to me. For a little while.”Another breath weighted reluctant pulled “…Where are you?” he asked your heart skipped “At home.” Another pause. You could hear the decision forming slow, reluctant, inevitable “I’ll come by,” he said quietly. Not warm. Not gentle. But choosing you. Even if he didn’t understand why even if it terrified him“Okay,” you breathed the line lingered for a moment neither of you willing to break it. Then he spoke again voice lower, edged with something you couldn’t name “Don’t go anywhere.” He ended the call. You stared at your phone, pulse racing not with relief, not with certainty…but with anticipation,Fear,Hope,All tangled together. Outside, somewhere across the city, Michael was already moving pulled toward you by something he didn’t want to admit…and couldn’t walk away from anymore.

The living room feels too small for how nervous you are. You’ve been pacing for the past ten minutes, tracing the same path between the couch and the window, your phone still warm in your hand from the call. Every time you stop, you catch yourself peeking through the blinds like you’re afraid you’ll miss him if you blink. Your heart won’t settle. It keeps fluttering up into your throat dread and hope tangled together until you can’t tell which one you’re feeling more. The car. His voice last night. The way he looked at you like he wasn’t sure whether to come closer or disappear. What if calling him was a mistake?Headlights sweep across the front of the house. You freeze. His car rolls to a stop at the curb. The engine cuts off, but he doesn’t get out right away and somehow that silence feels louder than anything. You back away from the window, trying to steady your breathing. You don’t know whether to sit down or stand perfectly still or run upstairs and hide. Then there’s a knock at the door. Soft. Controlled. Like he measured exactly how hard he was allowed to be here. You open it. Michael stands on the step shoulders tight beneath his jacket, posture rigid, his eyes moving over you in a quick, restrained sweep. You can tell, just from that glance, that he rehearsed this on the drive over. Built walls. Set limits. They already look close to cracking. “Hey,” you say quietly his jaw flexes once “Hi.” It sounds like he has to drag the word out. For a moment, neither of you moves the morning air hangs between you, cold and heavy. You realize you’re still standing in the doorway like you’re not sure whether to let him in… or keep him out before anything inside you gets worse You step aside “Come in.” He hesitates just a breath then crosses the threshold with careful, deliberate steps, as if every inch inside your space is something he has to justify to himself. He doesn’t sit. Doesn’t relax. He stops in the middle of the room, hands loose at his sides, posture rigid and contained like he’s afraid that if he lets himself soften even a little, something else will slip through. You close the door the house feels smaller instantly “You said you wanted to talk,” he says. His voice is low, even but strained, like there’s something underneath it pressing too hard “Yeah,” you reply. “I’ve been thinking since the other night. About you. About… all of this.” His jaw tightens. He looks like he already knows where this is going “I’m not doing this to fight,” you say. “I just… I can’t tell where you stand. One moment you’re distant. Then you protect me. Then you act like none of it means anything.” His eyes flicker not softening, not opening just reacting a crack. “I’m trying to keep things clear,” he says. “So you don’t read into things you shouldn’t.”It hurts because it isn’t cruel It’s careful. “Then why do you keep staying?” you ask. “Why show up? Why look at me like you do..” “Don’t,” he says quietly not sharp just… strained. His hands curl once, then loosen again “I’m not doing whatever you think I am.”

“You are,” you say, breath unsteady. “You say it doesn’t mean anything, but it feels like it does.”Silence stretches. His shoulders tense like he wants to deny it and can’t quite make himself lie. Your voice softens “Do you feel anything at all?” you ask. “Or are you just pretending you don’t?”The question lands between you heavy irrevocable. For a split second barely there something breaks through in his eyes,want,fear,confusion,longing he doesn’t know how to name then he forces it down. Locks it behind something colder “What I feel isn’t the point,” he says not exactly a denial but a barricade. A line drawn around something he refuses to touch. He exhales slowly steadying himself “You’re putting meaning where there shouldn’t be,” he says, quieter now. “You see something good in me and you keep… leaning toward it. Like you think it’s safe.” His gaze lingers on you pained, conflicted “It isn’t.” The words are soft almost gentle and somehow worse because of it. He doesn’t step back doesn’t leave. He just stands there and tries to convince you the gravity between you doesn’t exist “I don’t want you shaping your life around an idea of me,” he murmurs. “Around what you think I could be if you stay long enough.” You feel throat tighten. “I’m not imagining this,” you whisper. “You look at me like—” a lump formed even more in your throat as if your choking on your words “I don’t mean to.” The confession slips out. Bare. Unintended. He shuts his eyes for a second as if he wishes he could pull the words back inside his chest. “I’m still trying to figure out what any of this is,” he says, barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know how to carry it without breaking things.” A beat “Without breaking you.” The room feels fragile like one more word could shatter it. He looks at you steady, tense, aching and you can see the contradiction tearing him apart he wants to stay he’s afraid to want he refuses to admit either “I don’t want you expecting something from me I don’t know how to give,” he says softly. “Not right now.” Not rejection but Not acceptance something in-between dangerous aching unfinished He doesn’t tell you to step back he doesn’t tell you to stop caring. He just refuses to promise what he’s terrified he already feels…and still he doesn’t leave. The silence stretches You can feel him trying to keep distance that doesn’t exist anymore not with how close he’s standing… not with the way his eyes keep drifting back to your face You swallow “Why did you come?” you ask quietly. “If you don’t want me getting close to you… why show up?”His jaw tightens “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” He doesn’t answer. You take a breath steady, but shaking underneath. “You tell me I shouldn’t expect anything,” you say, “but you don’t stay away. You keep showing up. You watch me. You get…” The word sticks in your throat. “..jealous.” A flicker sharp runs through his expression. He looks away, like the floor is safer than your eyes “That’s not jealousy,” he mutters.“What is it, then?” His voice hardens defensive.“It’s me making sure you don’t get yourself hurt.”You stare at him “By who?” Silence his jaw locks that’s your answer your chest tightens. “So I’m a risk,” you say. “A liability. Something you monitor, like everything else.” His eyes flash not cold Wounded. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you’re doing,” you whisper. The words land cleanly no shouting, no theatrics just truth. And it hits him you can see it. He exhales slowly through his nose, trying to stay composed. “You’re… different,” he says at last, voice low and strained. “You don’t belong anywhere near me. And the closer you get, the harder it’s going to be to pull away.” Your heart twists “Then why haven’t you?” He freezes. His breath stalls for a moment just one something raw breaks through the discipline in his eyes. He can’t lie fast enough to cover it. “I’m… working on it.” That hurts worse than anything else. You nod, even though it stings “Right,” you say softly. “So I’m something you’re trying to stop wanting.” His gaze snaps to you not angry but panicked almost . “That’s not—” He cuts himself off. Because finishing it would make it real. His hands curl into fists at his sides as if instinct is dragging him forward and restraint is dragging him back. He looks at you like stepping closer would ruin both of you. “I don’t know how to stand near you,” he says quietly, “without wanting more than I should.” It’s the closest thing to a confession he’s ever let slip and he hates that it escaped. His walls slam back into place sharp and cold.“You shouldn’t rely on me,” he finishes, voice steady again. “I’m the wrong person to cling to.”But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t step away and that contradiction says everything.

You don’t step back you don’t raise your voice. You just look at him steady, hurting, unwilling to let him hide behind half-answers anymore “Then stop coming back.” The words don’t echo they sink. His shoulders tense first a small, involuntary reaction like the sentence hit somewhere he didn’t expect to be vulnerable. His eyes flick away, then back again, as if he’s trying to decide whether to retreat or stay rooted in place. “If I’m such a bad choice,” you continue, quieter now, “if I shouldn’t rely on you… then stop being the person I always end up relying on.” His jaw tightens sharp line, tendons pulling tight beneath his skin. That lands you can tell. His restraint thins, like a wire pulled too tight. You take a breath. “You can’t tell me not to get close,” you say, “and then be the one who shows up when everyone else disappears.” Something flickers across his expression guilt, ache, anger at himself all of it crushed down before it can show fully. His voice comes out low. Controlled. Edged. “Don’t twist this.” He isn’t cold but stern “You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he says not harsh, but strained, like every word scrapes on the way out. “I’m asking for the truth,” you reply. The room feels smaller the silence thickens heavy, electric like the air itself is bracing for impact he exhales slowly, through his nose, like he’s trying to keep something contained. “You think this is about mixed signals,” he says at last, his voice rough around the edges. “About attention. Or jealousy. Or whatever story you’ve built to make this feel safer than it is.” His gaze lingers on you for a long, brittle moment.“This isn’t… that.” His voice drops quieter, unsteady beneath the control. “This is about the fact that everything near me breaks.” Your breath catches. His next words stumble, like he almost doesn’t want to say them. “And you..”He stops. The silence that follows feels sharp. You feel him resisting the rest of the sentence like admitting it might make it real. Your voice barely makes it out.“Me what?” He finally looks at you fully and the fear beneath everything else shows through. Not cruelty Not arrogance Not distance but Fear.“You stay,” he says. It’s not an accusation It sounds like disbelief “And you shouldn’t.” The words are blunt unpolished scraped straight out of something raw and unguarded. They hurt. Not because they’re cold but because they’re honest. You swallow, the ache settling deeper in your chest. “So you push me away,” you say softly, “and still keep showing up when I’m gone.”His jaw shifts one small, pained movement. He doesn’t argue He doesn’t deny it He looks like he wants to. But he can’t. His hands curl into fists at his sides, like he’s holding himself together by force. His voice breaks just slightly when he answers. “I don’t know how to do anything else.” It isn’t anger. It isn’t manipulation. It’s confession. A quiet admission from someone who has never learned how to want something without fearing what it turns him into.He turns his face away not in rejection, but in self-preservation like one more second of eye contact might pull him somewhere he isn’t ready to go. But his body doesn’t move.

Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him close enough that if either of you leaned forward even an inch, everything would change. You say it before you can stop yourself. “Michael I..I love you.” The words hang in the air between you, heavy and trembling, and the moment stretches so long it feels like time itself has stopped. Michael freezes. His entire body stiffens, as if the sentence has physically struck him, and for a fraction of a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even blink. His eyes, usually so controlled and unreadable, flicker with something you’ve never dared to see before recognition, fear, longing, guilt, all tangled together in a way that makes your chest ache. His jaw tightens, and his hands ball into loose fists at his sides, trembling ever so slightly, betraying the part of him that wants to reach out and close the space between you but is terrified of what it would mean if he did. Then his voice breaks the silence low, rough, almost broken and he murmurs, “Don’t say things like that,” as if your words are a physical blow. There’s no anger in it. No sharpness. Only pain quiet, suffocating, restrained, and terrifyingly honest the kind of pain that comes from wanting something you know you can’t have without destroying it. He doesn’t step back, doesn’t leave, but the distance between you feels like it has doubled, weighted with all the words he can’t speak, all the feelings he refuses to name, and all the fear that if he lets himself feel them, he will never be able to let go.

You watch as he turns, the weight of your confession still lingering in the room. “I..I need to go,” he mutters, his voice low and tight, and your chest sinks as he starts toward the door. “No,” you say before you can stop yourself. You reach out, grabbing his wrist. Your fingers dig in, desperate, needy. “Don’t leave.” He freezes mid-step, his eyes locking on yours for a flicker of a second that feels like an eternity. Then, without a word, he spins toward you, and before you can react, he pins you against the wall. One hand presses firmly beside your head, the other brushing along your waist not cruel, not gentle, but impossibly deliberate. Your chest presses against him your breath hitches as his nearness floods you. His jaw is tight, his blue eyes stormy, shadowed with something dangerous and vulnerable all at once. He’s trying to fight it, trying to maintain that wall of control, but it’s crumbling. “You’re making this harder than it should be,” he says quietly, tension coiling in every word. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?” Your fingers grip his jacket, holding him close despite the danger, despite the fear. “I don’t care,” you whisper. “I don’t care if it’s wrong. I don’t care if it’s dangerous. I love you.” For a heartbeat, his eyes soften, flickering with something he can’t name longing, fear, and possession all tangled together. Then, almost violently, he presses closer, the wall behind you suddenly tight and suffocating in the best possible way. “I’m not supposed to want this,” he admits, voice rough, low, strained. “I’m not supposed to feel it.” Yet here he is. Close enough that your foreheads nearly touch. Close enough that every rational thought screams at you to pull away, but your heart refuses. The room feels impossibly small, the air heavy with desire, denial, and the danger of letting him feel what he already does.

The room falls silent.

His chest presses against yours, solid and unyielding, but he doesn’t move beyond that. He just holds you there, his hands firm yet careful, like he’s afraid that any sudden shift might break both of you. The air between you feels thick, heavy, as though the space itself is holding its breath, waiting for him to make the next move. You can feel his heartbeat uneven, taut, betraying the control he’s trying so hard to maintain. Your own breath hitches in response, shallow and quick, each inhale brushing against him, each exhale trembling with longing. You lift your gaze, searching his stormy blue eyes, hoping for even the smallest flicker of what he truly feels, wanting to catch the crack behind the mask. His gaze meets yours, sharp, intense, and for a moment, the world narrows until there’s nothing but the two of you. His lips part slightly, just enough to tell you he’s hovering on the edge of something he shouldn’t allow. You lean in, almost imperceptibly, drawn to the weight of him, to the unspoken confession lingering in every line of his body. Then suddenly, impossibly he closes the distance. His lips crash against yours with a hunger that steals your breath, desperate and demanding, as though he’s trying to consume every piece of you he’s been denying himself. His hands grip your waist and shoulders, holding you close, pulling you into him, pressing you flush against the wall as if letting go would be unthinkable. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s raw, possessive, full of need, and it rattles every rational thought you had left. But just as quickly, he pulls back, eyes dark, lips parted, chest heaving. A flicker of torment shadows his gaze, jaw tightens, and his hands tremble ever so slightly against you. It isn’t denial. It isn’t refusal. It’s a confession dangerous, consuming, impossible to ignore and you press against him anyway, letting the moment stretch, letting the tension thrum between you. In that quiet, in that suspended heartbeat, you realize he’s already caught in the same storm of feeling you are longing, fear, and the impossible pull that neither of you can fully resist.

A N: lowkey wanna make the next chapter just straight up nsfw i have a love hate with writing slow burns but other than that I hope you all enjoyed this chapter it would be very much appreciated if you leave a like or a comment!!❤️❤️

#michael afton x you #michael afton #michael afton x reader #fnaf michael afton #movie michael afton #movie michael afton x reader #five nights at freddy’s movie #five nights at freddys 2 #fnaf 2 #fnaf movie #fnaf fandom #fnaf #mike afton #micheal afton

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Washing machine heart

✰: Michael afton x reader

✰: part 2

✰Summary: angst/romance based on the song washing machine heart

✰TW: violence, gore,

A week or two had passed since the confrontation in the pizzeria. You’d been keeping to yourself more, trying to distract your mind with normal things small dinners, coffee runs, friends who insisted you leave the building and its constant hum behind. Tonight, your friend had dragged you out to a small diner. Neon lights flickered against the wet streets outside, painting the interior in faint pink and blue streaks. The scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee wrapped around you like a warm, safe blanket. Your friend excused herself to take a phone call outside, leaving you alone at the booth. You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, feeling the weight of the week pressing against your shoulders. “You’re alone, huh?” The waiter’s voice was light, friendly, a little flirtatious. You looked up, surprised, and noticed him leaning slightly against the counter, eyes bright with a teasing curiosity. “I’m fine,” you replied, trying to keep your tone polite but neutral. He smiled. “Come on, don’t be like that. I could make your coffee taste way better than this regular stuff. Maybe even make you laugh while I’m at it.” You laughed softly, more from habit than interest, shaking your head. “I’m okay, really.” “Aw, don’t be shy. I won’t bite.” He winked, leaning a little closer. You blinked, caught off guard by his forwardness. The small thrill of normal human attention warmed something cold inside you. For a moment, you forgot about the pizzeria, about Michael, about the tension that always hovered like a shadow in your life. Almost. Then the diner door swung open. A bell jangled.

You didn’t notice him at first. But the temperature in the room seemed to drop imperceptibly, a shadow folding into the light. Your heart skipped a beat without warning. He was standing at the entrance.

Michael Afton.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t even move. He just scanned the diner until his gaze locked on you. The world seemed to shrink around his presence. The waiter chuckled nervously, oblivious. “So… maybe I’ll grab that cup of yours now?” Michael’s eyes flicked to him just briefly, but enough. The temperature shifted again. The light in the diner didn’t feel the same. The warmth fled. The waiter’s grin faltered. “Uh… okay, maybe I’ll just—”Michael didn’t approach. He didn’t need to. The look he gave the young man was enough back off. You only realized then you hadn’t even noticed Michael’s arrival. Your pulse raced, stomach twisting. He had appeared quietly, like a shadow, and now he was there, observing. You tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t. He was too… imposing. The way he moved, the precision in his posture, the cold flicker in his eyes it was enough to make your breath hitch. A flicker of movement caught your attention and then the words fell from his mouth, low, measured, but sharper than the diner’s neon lights could ever seem as he walked towards your booth “You’re smiling at him,” Michael said. The words weren’t a question. They weren’t calm. They carried something sharper a cold sting of jealousy, wrapped in controlled fury. Your chest tightened instantly. “I—I was just laughing,” you stammered, heat rushing to your cheeks, “he was being…too friendly.” Michael’s jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed, cutting straight through you. A flicker of something you had only glimpsed once before raw, possessive anger rippled across his expression. He shifted slightly, closing a fraction of the distance between you without touching, the air thick with tension. “Friendly doesn’t matter,” he said quietly, voice low, but edged with something almost dangerous. “You don’t get to notice anyone else. Not him. Not anyone.” Your throat constricted. You gripped your coffee cup tighter, knuckles white. The diner, once warm and ordinary, suddenly felt suffocating. “I—Michael, I wasn’t thinking about that,” you murmured, voice trembling slightly, trying to act casual, but failing. His eyes darkened, stormy and sharp, scanning you like he could see every thought. “I don’t care what you think,” he snapped, just enough to make your stomach twist. “You don’t get to hand pieces of yourself to anyone else while you’re… here. With me.” You blinked, startled by the force behind the words. The possessiveness the jealousy was raw, barely held in check.

“I—” you started, unsure what to say, “Michael, that’s not—” He stepped closer, just enough that the heat from his body brushed the edge of yours. “Not what?” he asked, voice tight, controlled but low, vibrating with an intensity that made your pulse hammer. “Not the truth? Not what I see?”The diner seemed to shrink around you. The lights flickered across his face, sharp shadows highlighting his jaw, his narrowed eyes. Every word, every small movement spoke of something he refused to name jealousy, possession, fear of losing you to someone else. “I… I can’t…” you whispered, voice trembling. Michael’s gaze bore into you, unwavering, and the air between you felt almost unbearable. “You shouldn’t be laughing with him. Not if you want to keep yourself safe or if you want to stay where you belong.” The words weren’t soft. They weren’t tender. They weren’t even polite. But the weight behind them pressed into your chest, undeniable, suffocating. You realized, with a jolt you couldn’t deny it wasn’t control he was after tonight. Not exactly It was jealousy Raw. Sharp. And terrifyingly… human.

The bell above the diner door jingled again. Your friend returned from her phone call, sliding back into the booth with a smile. “Sorry about that! Some telemarketer who wouldn’t quit. What’d I miss?” You were about to respond when you realized Michael was there. He hadn’t moved from next to your side of the booth, leaning lightly against the wall, his eyes quietly on you.

Your friend, oblivious, glanced between the two of you. “Oh! I didn’t know you had company,” she said brightly. “Hey you must be a good friend y/ns. Why don’t you join us?” Michael nodded once and slid into the booth across from you. His movements were smooth, deliberate, and neutral calm enough to seem casual, yet the weight of his gaze made the space between you charged.“Thanks,” he said simply, voice low, measured. “I don’t get out much.” Your friend laughed lightly. “Well, we’ll fix that! I’m sure she’s been telling you all sorts of things about me.” Michael’s expression remained flat, controlled. “Maybe,” he said. His eyes flicked briefly to you, then back to the booth. No hint of cheer, no softness just quiet focus, a subtle undercurrent of possessiveness in the way his gaze lingered. “So… do you come here often?” your friend asked. “Not really,” Michael replied. Voice calm, almost detached. “This is… new.” His posture stayed relaxed, but the way he watched you noting every small movement betrayed something deeper, something he didn’t let show outwardly. You sipped your coffee slowly, aware of the way his attention never left you, how every slight glance or shift in his body seemed to mark subtle boundaries, a quiet assertion: I notice you. I control this space. Your friend, oblivious, leaned back with a grin. “Well, I’m glad you joined us. It’s nice to meet one of her friends I’m sure she’s told me about you once?”

Michael’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Maybe.” His voice remained calm, neutral, almost indifferent. But the glance he gave you sharp, measured, lingering carried more weight than any words could. Possessive. Controlled. Unyielding. The diner’s warmth wrapped around the booth, but for you, the world had narrowed to him to the quiet tension, the subtle assertion, the unspoken claim threading through his presence. Your friend kept talking light stories, small jokes, little memories you hadn’t thought about in a long time. You relaxed more the longer she spoke, your shoulders loosening, your laughter slipping out in soft, unguarded bursts Michael watched. On the surface, he looked calm posture steady, expression composed, hands resting loosely on the table but his attention never drifted from you. Every shift in your expression, every spark of amusement in your eyes, every quiet breath of laughter drew his focus like a magnet. You looked… different like this. Less worn down. Less guarded. More yourself. Something fluttered in his chest faint but intrusive and he despised how unfamiliar it felt. Your friend didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered, or the faint tension that sharpened when she leaned close to whisper something that made you laugh even harder. She just went on talking, unaware of the quiet storm sitting across from you. Michael didn’t interrupt. He didn’t need to. He let the conversation pass around him, answering only when directly addressed, his tone steady, almost detached. But underneath that calm veneer, a quiet jealousy simmered not loud, not explosive, just… constant. You leaned your elbow on the table, smiling softly at something your friend said. Michael’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of the booth. He didn’t like how easily someone else could draw that softness out of you. How natural you looked here comfortable, bright, open in a way you never were around him. That flutter returned, unwelcome and disorienting. He pushed it down. His eyes stayed on you not harsh, not openly possessive but intent. Measured. Claiming the space between you in silence, as if simply existing near you was enough to stake his presence there. You didn’t have to look up to feel it. The awareness of him followed every movement you made, like a shadow. Your friend laughed again and waved for the waiter, still blissfully unaware. The moment remained small and ordinary on the surface… but beneath it, something far more complicated pulsed quietly Something he didn’t understand.

The conversation at the booth dwindled naturally as your friend finally checked the time. “Wow, look at that,” she said, gathering her things. “I really should get going. Early morning tomorrow, you know?” You nodded, setting your cup down. “Yeah… thanks for coming with me. I needed this.”Your friend smiled at you warmly. “Anytime. Really.” Michael remained seated across from you, still quiet, still composed. On the surface, he looked like nothing had shifted calm, neutral, almost detached. But the subtle edge in his presence lingered. Every glance you made, every small movement, every soft laugh that had come so easily earlier tugged at the fluttering feeling in his chest. You could feel it, even without looking: the way his gaze held you, the way he seemed to exist entirely in your orbit. His silence was deliberate, controlled, yet it carried weight unspoken possession. As your friend slipped on her coat and waved goodbye, Michael finally spoke, low and measured, almost casual. “Do you want me to drive you home?” You blinked, surprised. The offer was simple, neutral, but there was an undercurrent in his tone you couldn’t ignore concern, possessiveness, and something else you couldn’t quite name. “I… I don’t know,” you said softly, unsure how to respond. Part of you wanted the comfort of his presence, part of you was wary of what it might mean. “Don’t think about it,” he said lightly, but not dismissively. “I’ll wait outside.”

You followed him to the door, your heart skipping at the faint tension that still clung to him. Outside, the cool night air wrapped around you both. The neon glow of the diner reflected softly off the wet streets, painting the edges of his face in light and shadow. Michael held the car door open for you. “Get in,” he said simply. No cheer. No warmth. Just the quiet authority that made it impossible to refuse. As you settled into the seat, you realized how much you trusted him in this moment, despite everything his silence, his intensity, the subtle jealousy that hovered in the space between you. He slid into the driver’s seat, started the car, and pulled out onto the street. The engine hummed softly in the quiet night, the only sound between you both. Michael’s hands gripped the wheel, posture straight, face calm, almost indifferent yet the awareness of you beside him, the way your small movements caught his attention, was undeniable. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to. And somehow, that was enough to make your chest tighten. Even in silence, he was present. Attentive. Protective. Possessive. And you felt it. Every inch of it.

The streets were quiet, neon lights reflecting off wet asphalt, the hum of the engine filling the spaces between your thoughts. You sat in the passenger seat, your hands folded loosely in your lap, glancing out the window to avoid meeting Michael’s eyes though you knew he was watching you anyway. After a few minutes of silence, your curiosity broke through. “Why… why did you come looking for me?” you asked softly, voice hesitant. Michael’s hands remained steady on the wheel. His expression didn’t change. He didn’t glance at you. His tone was low, even, measured. “I didn’t like the idea of you being out… alone.” You tilted your head slightly, trying to read him. “Alone?”“Yes,” he said simply. No elaboration, no explanation beyond the surface. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, just enough for you to catch it. There was more in that single word than he would ever admit. Concern. Possessiveness. A hint of something he didn’t understand himself. You let out a soft breath. “So… you just… happened to be there, and followed me?” He shrugged, casual, neutral, controlled but the weight in his eyes betrayed him. “I saw you… with your friend. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You frowned lightly, uncertain. “You didn’t… have to. I could’ve managed.” Michael’s eyes flicked to the road briefly, then back to you, steady. “I know,” he said quietly. “But I did anyway.” The words were simple, but the subtle claim behind them made your stomach tighten. He didn’t reach for your hand, didn’t lean closer, didn’t speak another word. Yet the intent was unmistakable. Every controlled breath, every measured movement, every quiet glance in your direction pressed the same message I’m here. You’re mine to watch. You turned slightly to look at him, hesitating. There was something in the way he kept his composure calm, neutral, almost indifferent that made the flutter in your chest grow. A strange tension coiled around your heart, equal parts unsettling and… thrilling. “I guess… thanks,” you said softly, unsure how else to respond. Michael didn’t answer immediately. Just kept driving, hands firm on the wheel, posture straight, expression unreadable. But you felt it anyway the quiet intensity, the careful observation, the faint hum of jealousy beneath his calm exterior. He wasn’t saying he cared. Not yet. He wasn’t smiling and yet… every small, controlled action said more than words ever could. You realized then that his presence alone quiet, calm, and unwavering was enough to make you feel… both safe and trapped at the same time. And somehow, you didn’t want it to stop

The car pulled up in front of your house, the street quiet and still. Michael cut the engine and stepped out, his movements smooth and controlled. You followed, a soft hush of night air settling over you both. He walked beside you, close enough that the warmth of his presence brushed against your arm, though he didn’t touch. The quiet between you was thick, heavy with unspoken words, with something neither of you was ready to name. When you reached your front door, he slowed slightly, matching your pace. The familiar path felt different somehow charged. Every step made your pulse beat faster, every glance at him made your stomach twist. “Thanks,” you said softly, your voice breaking the tension slightly but not really. Michael’s jaw worked once, then twice. He finally spoke, his voice low and measured. “About the other night… I—” He paused, eyes fixed on the ground for a moment, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.” You looked up at him, surprised. “You… don’t have to—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, still calm, neutral on the surface, but there was something behind the words careful, controlled, almost vulnerable. “I meant it… in the wrong way. I… I’m sorry.” The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard. His expression remained mostly unreadable, posture steady, hands in his pockets but the subtle tension in his jaw and the slight tightness in his shoulders gave away the effort it took him to say even that. You swallowed, your chest tightening. “Thanks… Michael.” He nodded once, eyes flicking briefly to yours, lingering just long enough to make your heart skip. There was a quiet intensity there protective, possessive, and restrained that made the air between you charged with something neither of you could quite name. “I’ll… make sure you’re okay,” he added softly, the words calm, almost detached, but the flutter in his chest betrayed him. Protective. Possessive. Something he didn’t fully understand, something he couldn’t yet admit. You glanced up at him again, noticing the slight tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders were just a fraction tighter than usual. “I know,” you murmured, heart hammering. The silence stretched for a moment longer. Every thought swirling in his mind jealousy, longing, the fluttering pull he couldn’t name weighed heavier than he wanted to admit. Finally, he stepped back, giving you a small, measured nod. “Goodnight,” he said simply, calm and neutral. But the lingering intensity in his gaze followed you as you unlocked the door, a quiet claim that left your chest tight and your thoughts spinning. Even as the door closed, the space between you still hummed with the tension of what wasn’t said, the apology lingering in the air, and the slow, steady pull neither of you could ignore.

Michael slid back into the driver’s seat, the quiet of the night pressing in around him. The engine hummed softly as he sat for a moment, hands gripping the wheel lightly, eyes fixed on the street ahead. The memory of you laughing with your friend at the diner surfaced unbidden the easy, carefree way you had leaned back, your hair catching the neon light, your attention momentarily elsewhere. And then… the waiter.

The thought tightened something low in his chest, a subtle but insistent irritation. A spark of jealousy flared, quiet at first, then spreading like fire. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything, hadn’t interfered and yet the idea that someone else could make you laugh like that, touch even a fraction of your attention, set something sharp and possessive loose inside him. His jaw worked once, then twice. Fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. That calm, neutral exterior he wore so easily at the diner felt suddenly heavy, almost suffocating. Without fully realizing it, he had started the engine again. The street outside blurred past as his thoughts churned. The waiter. That smile. That laugh. The flutter in his chest the one he hadn’t been able to name twisted tighter. Possessiveness, jealousy, something… more. Something he couldn’t admit, couldn’t control, but couldn’t ignore. Michael didn’t plan it. He didn’t think through the consequences. He just knew he needed to… intervene. To assert himself. To ensure that no one else could cross the line. The tires whispered against the pavement as he pulled back onto the street, a quiet, controlled urgency in the way he drove. Every turn, every stoplight, every shadow he passed sharpened his focus. He didn’t let the car speed, didn’t let it attract attention, but the intent behind his movements was clear he was going after the waiter. His mind ran through every possible interaction, every small action he could take. Not confrontational… not yet. But a subtle, unspoken warning. A claim and all the while, the memory of you laughing free, easy, bright pressed into him like a weight, mingled with the sharp sting of jealousy. By the time he spotted the diner again, tucked along the quiet street, Michael’s breathing was steady, calm on the surface, but underneath, a storm of possessiveness, agitation, and something dangerously close to longing simmered.

He killed the engine, his hands still gripping the wheel, eyes scanning the area. The waiter smoking outside, unaware of the quiet storm approaching Michael’s lips pressed into a thin line. Calm. Controlled. Neutral. But inside, the pull of the flutter, the sting of jealousy, the protectiveness he couldn’t name it all surged, sharp and consuming. And he stepped out, moving toward him, every step deliberate, precise a quiet predator with one purpose: to make sure that no one else claimed what was his. The alley behind the diner was washed in pale yellow light from a buzzing security lamp. The world felt quieter back there the soft hum of traffic distant, the clink of dishes muffled through the back door. The waiter stood near the brick wall, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers, exhaling slow, careless smoke into the night. He didn’t notice Michael at first. Michael’s footsteps were soundless, his presence almost unreal a shadow that had chosen to solidify. The waiter finally sensed something and turned, brows knitting in mild confusion. “…Can I help you?” Michael didn’t answer. He simply watched him calm, unreadable, eyes cold and unwavering. For a brief moment, the waiter shifted nervously, trying to laugh it off. “Hey, man…if this is about earlier, I was just—” The last word never quite finished there was no warning, no hesitation. The next moments were over before they could be understood. When Michael stepped back, the waiter slumped, unconscious, a crimson smear on his shirt hinting at the violence that had just occurred. Michael’s expression remained neutral, almost detached, but the weight of the act pressed into him dark and heavy, as though it had left a stain inside him he couldn’t quite shake. He moved with precision, lifting the man into the trunk of his car. The world outside hummed softly, oblivious to the chaos hidden in the back of the vehicle. The drive to the pizzeria was quiet, but Michael’s mind churned possession, jealousy, protectiveness all mingled in a storm he didn’t fully understand. The neon signs of the city blurred past as he repeated the same thought like a mantra This is necessary. This is for her. At the pizzeria, the halls were empty, shadows curling around the corners. The building seemed alive in its stillness, understanding instinctively what was about to happen. Michael moved methodically, disposing of the evidence as though he had done it a thousand times before. Only the echo of something cruelly protective something he told himself was necessity, not feeling. And when it was done when the night swallowed another secret whole Michael stood alone in the flickering glow of the control lights, his breathing calm, his face unreadable……but somewhere beneath that stillness, something twisted.

The water hit his skin in a steady, relentless stream hot enough to sting, loud enough to drown out the silence of the house Michael stood beneath it, motionless. Red-tinged water swirled around the drain, circling, spiraling, disappearing. He watched it for a long time, eyes distant, jaw tight, as if willing the stain to leave his body… his thoughts… his chest It didn’t no matter how long the water ran. His hands braced against the tiled wall, head bowed forward, hair clinging wet to his forehead. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging the mirror, blurring the edges of everything except the feeling gnawing inside him possessiveness Jealousy something warmer… something softer… something he hated he’d told himself it was necessity Control ,Legacy. He had moved with precision, calm, purpose because that was what he was meant to do. What his father would have done. What he was built to continue. But when he closed his eyes…He didn’t see his father’s shadow. He saw you at the diner laughing, head tilted, eyes bright in a way you never seemed to be around him. Free. Untethered. Beyond his hold. The flutter in his chest returned sharp, unwelcome, terrifying. His fingers curled tighter against the wall. He hated that feeling. He hated that he couldn’t name it. He hated that it made him reckless.

The waiter’s face flickered like a ghost at the edges of his memory, not as a victim but as a threat. A presence near you. Someone who dared meet your eyes. Someone who dared think he could exist in your orbit. Michael’s breathing stuttered for just a moment. He forced it steady again. “This isn’t about her,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible beneath the rush of water it sounded like a lie even to him. He shut his eyes tighter, jaw clenching It wasn’t supposed to be like this She was supposed to be useful. A pawn. A means to continue the legacy a piece he could move, shape, manipulate. Not…Not someone who made his chest feel light and heavy at the same time. Not someone whose laugh lingered in his head like a melody.Not someone who made the world feel quieter when she was near. His nails dug faint crescents into his palms.

He didn’t want this.

He didn’t understand it.

And worse he couldn’t control it.

The water kept running the stain on his skin faded……but the one in his chest only grew heavier. When he finally reached to turn the water off, his hand hesitated just for a heartbeat like he was afraid of the silence that waited outside the shower. Afraid of his own thoughts. Afraid of the truth circling closer. He swallowed hard then turned the knob. The bathroom fell silent except for his breathing and the quiet, invisible echo of a realization he refused to let form fully He hadn’t done what he did tonight for legacy. He hadn’t done it for control.

He had done it… for you.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

AN: honestly kinda wanna make this a series if yall would be interested lmk i hope yall enjoyed it so far!!!

Edit: part 3 is out!!

#fnaf #fnaf 2 #fnaf movie #fnaf michael afton #fnaf fandom #movie michael afton #michael afton x you #michael afton #michael afton x reader #five nights at freddys 2 #five nights at freddy's #five nights at Freddy’s movie #mike afton

Washing machine heart

✰: Michael afton x reader

✰Summary: angst/romance based on the song washing machine heart

✰TW: violence, gore,

There was a time when you told yourself that coming here was a choice. You used to repeat it in the car, hands tight on the steering wheel, headlights cutting through the dark road that led toward the abandoned strip of parking lot and the sagging neon sign. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing him. I’m choosing to stay. Eventually, the sentence started sounding ridiculous. Now there wasn’t a choice in it anymore. There was only habit. Gravity. A silent command that lived in your bones. He called and your body moved, Keys, Shoes, Breath held tight in your chest. The night air felt colder near the lot, the wind scraping across broken pavement like it resented anyone still coming here. The old Fazbear sign pulsed faint soft yellow glow, buzzing softly, its light cutting in and out in uneven spasms. The building didn’t look empty. It looked watchful. You paused at the door as always fingers hovering just above the handle. Not because you planned to leave……but because you wanted to imagine, for one fragile second, a life where you could. The second passed. Your hand tightened. You pushed the door open. The smell hit first Old grease,Dust,Rotting carpet, Rusted metal. Something sharp and chemical underneath it all something like old blood buried beneath cleaner. The air clung to your lungs like it didn’t want to let you breathe.

“Michael?”

Your voice carried through the hallway bouncing off dirty walls, vanishing into vents and ceiling panels. Silence stretched long enough to feel deliberate. Then footsteps measured,slow,soft rhythm on tile. Not rushed not surprised. Michael Afton always walked like time belonged to him. He emerged from the shadows at the corridor’s far end, the pale hallway lights tracing a faint cold glow along his cheekbones. His frame was lean beneath the loose jacket, purple polo crisp, badge straight, sleeves rolled with precise monotony like he controlled every wrinkle. His hair sat neatly in place his expression was a clean blank. His eyes sharp, assessing landed on you the way a scanner recognizes an employee badge. Not fond but not cruel recognizing. “You came,” he said. He always said it like it was a fact, not gratitude. You swallowed “I always do.” The words slipped out smaller than you meant them he didn’t comment. He simply turned his head and walked deeper inside his shadow stretching long behind him across the cold floor. You followed your steps matched his unconsciously the familiarity of it settling heavy into your bones like you’d been carved for this hallway and nothing else.

The party room was dim beyond the flickering overhead lights, tables shoved haphazardly aside, paper decorations torn and sagging, confetti ground into the tile from years of footsteps that never left properly. You smelled it before you saw it Iron,muted copper, Something metallic sunk into tile you stopped at the edge of it. It wasn’t just a stain It was a memory someone had tried to erase. Your throat tightened as the shapes and streaks carved themselves into your mind smeared across cracks in the floor, darkened into seams where time had pinned it down. Michael stood beside you still, composed, presence quiet but all-consuming He didn’t explain He didn’t need to.“Malfunction,” he said, voice neutral, carefully chosen. A word with smooth edges Painless, Blameless,Cold Your chest ached. You didn’t ask what malfunctioned or who your hand tightened around the strap of your bag. “I’ll clean it.” It didn’t sound like an offer more like a sentence you’d already agreed to. You sank to your knees the tile hard beneath you, pressing into bone and pulled gloves on with stiff fingers. Your hands trembled before they touched the floor the rag scraped against ceramic slow at first, then harder when the cleaner smeared instead of lifting. The noise echoed through the hollow room, broken and rhythmically jarring.

Scrape.

Drag.

Push.

Your wrist strained with every motion you poured more cleaner your eyes stung instantly. The air turned sharp, acidic, clawing at the back of your throat. The stain bled outward before fading like something refusing to leave you leaned into the motion harder your muscles burned your vision blurred you pressed until your wrist slammed against tile *Bang* Pain tore up your arm you sucked in a breath kept scrubbing If you kept going, you didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to imagine how he’d made the mess. Didn’t have to ask who had been here before you behind you, Michael stood with his arms folded loosely across his chest, one shoulder leaned against the wall. He wasn’t idle. He was watching. Observing. Cataloging the way your hands shook… how you ignored the ache… how your breath broke unevenly through clenched teeth. “You’re being rough,” he said eventually not gentle not concerned Just aware your voice cracked as you answered. “It needs to come out.” His gaze dropped to the stain “It won’t,” he said softly. “Not fully.”

“I know.” The admission scraped against your ribs You scrubbed harder anyway your grip slipped your knuckles hit the floor again. *Bang* The shock rattled through your bones you didn’t stop. Michael moved then slow and deliberate crouching beside you. The shadow of his frame fell over your hands, dimming the stain beneath your rag. His fingers caught your chin not roughly but with a firm control that made your breath falter. He tilted your face up, forcing your eyes into the flickering light His touch was warm his eyes were not. “You’ve been crying,” he said voice low, steady, leaving no space to deny You tried to laugh. “I’m just tired.” The lie fell apart the moment you spoke it His thumb stilled against your jaw. “You’re lying.” Not accusing simply labeling. Your throat tightened painfully. “I can handle it,” you whispered. A beat of silence hung between you. He released your chin stood didn’t argue didn’t tell you to stop and somehow that hurt more. You went back to scrubbing your arms ached the tile blurred time stretched into something shapeless and heavy. The stain lightened then spread then faded again refusing to ever truly leave. The rag slipped from your hand you didn’t notice until you realized you were still scrubbing with your bare palm. Your skin burned you didn’t stop.

Hours blurred your knees had gone numb your shoulders pulsed with dull, sharp beats of pain your breath came shallow mechanical like something broken trying to keep rhythm. The room finally stopped smelling like metal It smelled like bleach. Empty. Hollow. Exhausted. You lifted your head vision swimming and peeled off the gloves. Red irritation banded your wrists where the material had dug in Michael turned without a word and walked toward the security office. You rose slowly legs shaky beneath you and followed him again not because he asked because you didn’t know where else to go.

The old fan spun lazily on the desk, its rattling blades filling the silence with a dull mechanical hum. Monitors washed cold blue light across Michael’s features sharpening his cheekbones, shadowing his eyes. You sank down beside the desk not dramatic, not intentional your body simply gave out your shoulders slumped your hands rested uselessly in your lap you stared at the floor until the cracks in the tile blurred into one another. Michael didn’t look at you at first he didn’t need to “You’re exhausted,” he said quietly you exhaled through a faint, bitter smile “I’m used to it.” His chair creaked softly as he turned. His gaze swept over you slowly lingering on the faint bruise taking shape along your wrist, the raw red imprint of gloves against your skin, the way your hands trembled even at rest For the first time tonight…his expression shifted not soft but fractured infinitesimally. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked the tone wasn’t curiosity It was analysis you stared at your hands. “Because you call.” The room felt smaller when you said it the words pressing against the walls, the screens, his chest you hadn’t meant to say it like that His jaw tightened Barely. “You don’t have to come when I do.” A humorless breath escaped your lips a fragile, broken almost-laugh. “Yes, I do.”

A pause.

His voice lowered quieter, sharper like a blade turned inward“Why?”Your throat burned. You looked up tired to the bone, truth raw and inevitable. “Because if I don’t,” you whispered,“you won’t need me anymore.”Silence crashed into the room. Heavy. Suffocating. Michael stared at you not cold, not distant but startled in a way that didn’t reach his face, only his eyes You saw calculation falter Something unmeasured crept in its place Your breath shook You braced for confirmation. For him to nod to say yes to let the truth flatten you. Instead…He stepped closer. Slow. Controlled. Intent restrained so tightly you could feel it thrumming beneath his skin. His shoes stopped inches from your knees. His hand lifted hovering near your cheek frozen halfway to contact He didn’t touch you not because he didn’t want to. Because if he did he might have to admit something he didn’t have the language for His voice came out low, steady. “You should go home.” Your heart twisted that wasn’t dismissal It was distance softly enforced. You stood legs unsteady but his hand hovered near your elbow the entire time Close Careful. Pulled back before it could steady you. “I’ll call you,” he said He always did. You nodded because you always would You left the building with aching arms, sore lungs, and a hollow weight circling inside your ribs spinning, spinning, spinning like a heart trapped in a cycle that never stopped turning. You promised yourself you wouldn’t return you already knew you would.

The next time he called, his voice sounded smoother more distant more controlled You came anyway. Another room. Another stain. Another mess someone else left that somehow ended up in your hands. Your knuckles split this time. The cleaner burned under broken skin Michael watched again Silent Measuring. But his eyes lingered longer on your shaking shoulders… the way your breath stuttered when your wrist twisted wrong… the bruise that hadn’t fully healed from last time The rag slipped your hand fell you didn’t brace. His hand shot out before the sound reached the floor His fingers wrapped around your wrist strong, steady stopping the impact with startling precision. Heat rushed through your skin at the contact your breath freezing in your chest. He stared at your hand in his expression unreadable. Jaw clenched hard enough that muscle ticked beneath his cheek the moment stretched too long. Then he released you too fast like he’d held a live wire “Be careful,” he murmured voice thin and tightly controlled you nodded quietly and kept working he turned away but his hands…his hands were still trembling Only slightly and if you weren’t trained to see the smallest cracks in him…you might have missed it entirely. He didn’t understand it he didn’t want to. And he would not could not admit it. Not tonight. Not yet. Not for a long time. But something in him had already begun to fracture beneath the weight of you quietly reluctantly without permission.

The rag slid free from your fingers at last not dropped. Released. Your arms felt like they were full of sand, muscles aching in slow throbs. The floor was clean now or, at least, looked clean as if you’d peeled away only the visible layer of something ancient and stubborn. Your reflection wavered faintly in the wet tile. You barely recognized yourself anymore. Michael exhaled through his nose quiet, subtle and turned toward the hallway without a word, his footsteps echoing in that same steady rhythm that no longer startled you. He didn’t check whether you could stand. He didn’t ask if you were finished He simply walked. And as always you followed.

The corridor lights hummed weakly overhead. The building felt colder than before, air whispering through vents like something breathing down your neck. Far-off metal shifted somewhere in the dark a scrape, a hollow echo the mechanical bones of the place resetting. You reached the security office and paused at the doorframe. Michael slipped into the chair with smooth familiarity, leaning forward toward the monitors, eyes sharpening into that focused stillness like the screens were pieces on a board only he understood. He didn’t look at you not yet. You hovered a moment longer then drifted to the small metal counter along the wall The coffee machine sat there like a relic. Burnt smell. Old plastic. Stale grounds. You switched it on the hum filled the silence with soft vibration, almost comforting if you pretended hard enough. You braced your palms against the counter as it whirred to life your shoulders aching, fingers tingling from the strain of earlier a faint tremor ran through your wrist. You ignored it. The machine sputtered, coughing steam liquid pouring into the cracked styrofoam cup. Bitter scent flooded the air, sharp and warm against the chemical sting still clinging to your clothes. You didn’t realize how badly your hands were shaking until the rim tilted Hot coffee sloshed. You hissed through your teeth, drawing your hand back in a small, instinctive jerk Michael’s chair creaked. His head turned sharply fast, precise his gaze cutting to your hand. His eyes narrowed when he saw the reddened skin along your knuckles. He didn’t say anything he looked back to the monitors but his jaw tightened Just slightly. You lifted the cup carefully fingers trembling around flimsy foam and took a slow sip.

It tasted like burnt paper and metal your tongue stung you drank it anyway. It grounded you anchoring your body to the room instead of the spiraling hum in your chest. You took a breath. “I’ll be fine,” you murmured softly not to him, not quite more to the quiet air. Michael spoke without turning. “I didn’t ask.” Your heart sank but the words didn’t sound cold. They sounded like he was reminding himself. You opened your mouth to reply but the hallway beyond the office crackled to life with a sudden digital chirp. A speaker a static-modulated jingle Distorted children’s laughter a metallic shuffle scraping across tile. Your spine snapped rigid The monitors flickered one camera glitching into a smeared blur of color before resolving into a grainy feed of the west corridor. Something moved. A shadow filled the frame tall, bright fabric bowtie, oversized plastic cheeks cracked along the paint seam. Eyes glowed faintly within deep, hollow sockets. Toy Bonnie Not idle Not in standby walking.

Step.

Pause.

Turn.

Its jaw twitched a faint click-click-click as if cycling through an empty audio register. You swallowed.

“Michael…?”

He didn’t answer. His posture went still utterly still like a wire pulled tight. His eyes tracked the movement onscreen with surgical focus, calculation returning in hard, measured increments. The animatronic swiveled its head down the corridor outside the office Too close You heard it before you saw it Metallic footfall Servo whine. A low grinding hum from its chest cavity. You set your coffee down. Your breath thinned. The doorway darkened. Toy Bonnie’s head appeared in the frame plastic grin stretching too wide shoulders scraping faintly along the peeling wallpaper as it leaned in toward the office entrance Its eyes glowing a deep red now they reflected You. Your chest tightened It shouldn’t have been this close Not during power-save hours. Something was wrong Your pulse hammered through your ribs as you backed toward the desk without thinking, fingers brushing the metal edge. The air felt heavier humming pressure thickening against your skin like static.

Michael didn’t speak,Didn’t move Not at first. The animatronic shifted a sharp jerk forward one mechanical arm lifting, hand twitching open and closed in a stiff, stuttering rhythm Its head tilted toward you. Just you. You froze your throat worked uselessly around a sound that didn’t make it out. Your shoe caught the leg of the chair. The animatronic lurched another half-step forward shoulders creaking servo whine rising sharply like tension wire near snapping point. Then Michael’s hand closed around your arm hard. He yanked you back behind him so fast the room blurred your body colliding with the wall, breath punched from your lungs as his shoulder locked squarely between you and the doorway. You didn’t even process it until the cold metal of the file cabinet pressed into your back. His grip burned hot against your skin. Instinctive, Protective, Not controlled, Not considered,Immediate. Toy Bonnie’s frame filled the doorway It paused.The machine whirred scanning a faint audio cue flickering through its system. Its head shifted a few degrees attention snapping to Michael instead His stance changed Straight Centered Predatory. His eyes went colder than you’d ever seen them not empty, not distant sharpened into something dangerous and deeply alive. “Return to station,” he said low, deliberate voice threaded with authority that wasn’t meant for people. A commanding tone The animatronic twitched It hesitated. Its jaw clicked again louder now a glitched vocal scrap buzzing faintly in its speaker, almost forming a sound and failing Michael didn’t raise his voice.

He stepped forward not much Just enough to put his body fully between you and it. “Now.” Silence then the animatronic’s head jerked backward. Its arm lowered elbows locking into mechanical neutrality movements forced back into programmed restraint. Step by step, it retreated down the corridor, head swiveling once more toward the office…but not at him at you. You swallowed hard It disappeared around the corner. The hallway fell silent again. Your breath finally returned unsteady, uneven lungs stuttering as adrenaline caught up with your body in harsh, shaking waves. Michael’s hand was still on your arm you realized it at the same moment he did. His fingers loosened instantly he let go like you’d burned him. You stared at the spot where his hand had been your skin tingling, nerves still wired and electric. He didn’t look at you he stepped away putting distance back into the space like he was restoring order. His voice came out flat again too flat the cracks sealed over in one clean motion. “It was malfunctioning.” Your heart twisted. “That wasn’t a malfunction,” you whispered. He didn’t answer.

You took a slow breath the tremor still lingering in your chest. “You pulled me back.” His jaw tensed. Brief. Controlled. “I didn’t want you interfering with it,” he said coolly. “You would’ve made the situation worse.” The lie sat carefully in his mouth. Measured. Sanitized. You watched his profile the rigid calm in his expression, the way his fingers curled once at his side before forcing stillness back into them He wouldn’t look at you he wouldn’t admit anything. Not why he moved. Not why he grabbed you. Not why his voice had sounded like he’d swallowed panic. You swallowed voice soft, fragile at the edges. “…Right.” The word cracked halfway through He didn’t correct it didn’t reassure you didn’t say your name. But when you stepped past him to retrieve your abandoned coffee cup…his hand hovered near your arm again not touching. Not guiding Just there as if ready to pull you back the moment the world tried to take you again. He pretended it meant nothing. You pretended you believed him. And somewhere beneath all that control something dangerous kept quietly growing.

The coffee went cold in your hands You didn’t drink it Didn’t move. The office felt different now tighter somehow like the walls had edged a few inches closer when no one was looking. Michael sat back in his chair, eyes locked on the monitors again, posture composed and rigid, as if the last five minutes had never happened. As if he hadn’t grabbed you. As if his voice hadn’t cracked when the animatronic lunged. As if you hadn’t felt his heartbeat through his sleeve. You watched him in silence. His hands were still. Too still. His jaw worked once, just barely, like he was grinding a ghost of something between his teeth. You swallowed. Your voice came out quiet at first. “Why did you do that?”He didn’t turn.“Do what.”you stared at the back of his head. “The animatronic,” you whispered. “You didn’t just stop it. You…” Your throat tightened. “You pulled me behind you.” His shoulders stiffened only for a second. Then he forced them still again “I already told you,” he said, tone sharpening, “you were in the way.” The lie slid off his tongue with the precision of a blade. Cold. Polished. Clean. You inhaled slowly “No,” you said, softer steadier. “That wasn’t calculation. That was..”

“Stop.” The word cut through the room. Sharp. Not loud but dangerous in the way a gun isn’t loud until it fires you froze Michael finally turned toward you. His eyes looked wrong Not emotionless but crowded. Restless. Something coiled tight behind his pupils, flickering like a fuse burning too close to powder. “You’re reading into things that aren’t there,” he said His tone wasn’t cruel It was brittle Fraying “I’m not.” Your voice shook despite how you tried to hold it together. “You keep me here. You call me. You let me in. You stand in front of me when something comes near”His expression cracked only for a heartbeat then his mouth twisted into something sharp and unfamiliar. “You think this is special?” he snapped the word hit like impact you blinked he rarely raised his voice It sounded wrong coming from him ragged at the edges, scraped out of somewhere that never saw light. “You misunderstand your place,” he continued faster now, angrier, as if the words were spilling faster than he could stop them. “You keep inventing meaning where there isn’t any.” Your chest tightened. “Then tell me what I am,” you whispered. Silence. He stared at you and for a fraction of a second there was fear in his eyes not yours…His. He broke it first “You’re useful.” The words landed with a hollow, echoing finality Something inside you went still. He didn’t soften them didn’t flinch. He leaned into them forcing control back into himself through cruelty. “You clean,” he said. “You don’t complain. You stay quiet. You don’t ask questions unless you’re pushed to it. You come back even when you say you won’t.” His voice sharpened into something surgical. “You’re dependable.” Your throat burned “So that’s it?” your voice cracked. “I’m just—convenient?”

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate because if he hesitated he’d break. The silence between you vibrated tense, brittle as if the room itself was waiting to see which one of you would shatter first. You swallowed hard “Then why did you touch me like that?” you said, barely above a whisper. “Why did you pull me back like”

“Because you’re reckless,” he snapped The words came too fast reflex deflection. “You wander. You step too close. You hesitate when you should move. I can’t afford variables. I can’t afford you panicking and triggering a response from something I need under control.” His breathing had changed. You heard it not labored not shaking. Just…too human. “And if something happened to me?” you asked quietly His jaw tightened. His eyes went cold flat like he slammed a steel door in himself. “Then I’d find someone else.” The lie sat heavy in the air.

Thick.

Ugly.

You felt it.

He felt it.

His hand curled into a fist at his side not in anger at you at himself. You watched his composure splinter around the edges like glass under sudden pressure and you realized something terrifying. He wasn’t lashing out to hurt you. He was lashing out because he didn’t know how to not. Because feeling anything at all was ripping him apart from the inside. Your breath broke “So there’s nothing here?” you whispered. “Nothing at all?” His expression froze. His throat worked once. He looked at you like you were holding something dangerous up to him something sharp something he couldn’t disarm without bleeding. Then his voice dropped low quiet Lethal. “There is,” he said, “only what I need.” You felt the floor fall out from under you. He stood slowly chair scraping back across tile and stepped past you toward the doorway. Not touching not looking not trusting himself to do either. He paused at the frame A second too long. His fingers tightened at his side again knuckles whitening muscles trembling just enough to betray the restraint crushing his every movement. Without turning, he spoke lowly “You should go.” Your chest hollowed. “I don’t want to.”His breath shuddered barely audible. His voice came out colder than ice “I do.” The lie fractured the air between you He walked away before you could answer. You didn’t see his face when he reached the end of the hallway when his composure finally cracked in a silent, invisible way no one would ever know. You only felt the absence like a door slamming shut somewhere deep in your ribs. And still…You knew he would call again. And you would come. Because neither of you knew how to stop. And neither of you knew which of you would break first.

AN: hey guys!! I recently watched the new movie and I’m frothing at the mouth and I need more Michael fics out there so I had to start one myself if yall enjoyed please leave a like and comment below and lmk if yall want a part 2!!

Edit: part two is out!!!

#fnaf michael afton #michael afton fanart #michael afton x reader #michael afton #michael afton x you #movie michael afton #movie Michael afton x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf 2 #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddys 2 #fnaf #fnaf fandom #mike afton

basromoth

Ri have his own version ! because... This shit.... is really so ass.

Hey guys sorry for the disappearance I had a lot going on recently these past few months but I will be getting to the requests I’ve gotten and finish up some stories it may take a bit due to work but they’ll be out soon❤️❤️

#demon slayer #demon slayer 2025 #kimetsu no yaiba #akaza #kny akaza #x reader #request #writing #hiatus #sanemi x you #sanemi kny

CHERRY ITS ME SWARA ur not ANSWERING ANYMORE ARE U OK? JS CHECKING

Hey hun I’m doing alright just a lil stressed lol thank you for checking in!!❤️ I’ve just been having a very busy week and haven’t gotten much time to get back to replying and writing but I will be replying to everything this weekend and getting started on writing up the requests!!!❤️❤️

#demon slayer #demon slayer 2025 #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #anon ask #answered

cherry pookie wookie i dont wanna force u to write smthing u arent comfy with. i recently had multiple ptsd attacks so ill say ts with heavy trigger warning fot ts its just comfort.

akaza x swara (its my self inserts name) with ptsd and depresso n anxiety n insecurities due to sa and grape n grooming in the past both from teachers and classmates when they were a child. along with throw in the emotionally turbulent household we all live in n bullying n racism i hope no one has to face ts.

my insecurities r my dusky skin since im indian, my more than normal dark body hair like its everywhere ,my belly my back, no thigh gap :( dark circles, roman nose :(, uneven skin tone thanks to melanin, and uneven nails thanks to sh habits not like scarring n thin hair and little belly chub and armpit fat, generally smaller assets and my shoulders being wider than my hips everyone including teachers told me its unnatural and weird for a girl :(

i guess my really good special point is sketching and manga and intense storywriting, black and white but even no one appreciates that anymore

just wanna also ask about your health i hope u drink lottsa water stay safe cherry :)

I would love to write this story for you to help bring you some comfort. I’m so sorry to hear all that happened to you hun I’ll get to writing it as soon as I can. I’ve been doing okish atm lol i really appreciate you asking.❤️❤️

i really appreciate you trusting me with something so personal. i also wanna be honest that i really understand where you’re coming from i’ve been through similar things myself, including struggles with body image and feeling insecure about my body hair and appearance. it took me a long time to start seeing those parts of myself as something beautiful.

so please know you’re not alone,and i really want to make sure whatever i write feels comforting and safe for you. so again thank you for trusting me enough to share that.❤️❤️

A heart left unburied

Part 14

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Part13 >

NSFW

She was the Ice Hashira forged by frost, silence, and the kind of loss that never melts away. He was a demon born of grief and flame, bloodstained and long past redemption. Their paths should never have crossed. Their story should have ended with a blade. But fate is cruel, and so is love.

this enemies-to-lovers AU, hatred burns slowly into something colder, sharper and far more dangerous than either of them ever expected.

Akaza x fem reader

Content: enemies to lovers,slow burn,multi part, sfw and nsfw,AU,kny,

Akaza pressed closer, the heat of his body radiating against hers. Their lips moved together with an urgent intensity, teeth occasionally brushing, breaths mingling, hearts pounding in unison. His hands roamed carefully along her chest and waist, pulling her closer, feeling the shiver that ran through her with every touch. Every movement was deliberate yet frantic, a dance of closeness that left them both flushed and breathless. Her hands found their way to his hair, gripping him lightly, matching the rhythm of his movements, as if trying to anchor herself in the intensity of the moment. Even in the silence around them, the air crackled with unspoken desire, a fierce, magnetic pull that left them clinging together, lost in the heat of the kiss and the raw emotion that surged between them.

Akaza gently pulls as her yakata strings pulling it off of her as he starts kissing her neck. As he pulls down her yakata his piercing blue-gold colored eyes lock on to her e/c ones as her breath hitches His fingers trace along her collarbone gently before moving lower, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He kisses along her jawline and down her neck, his hands slowly pushing the yakata off her shoulders completely, revealing her bare skin to him. His eyes roam over her curves appreciatively, taking in the way the soft moonlight casts shadows on her skin. He leans in, pressing gentle kisses along her shoulders, his hands resting on her hips possessively. His voice is low and husky as he speaks between kisses, "So beautiful." Akaza starts to dip lower kissing down her stomach slowly each kiss holding so much care behind it. He stops at her breast for a moment tenderly latching onto one as she lets out a gasp he continues to suck as he brings his other hand to play with her other nipple, With a pop switch sides and continues his assault softly groaning. Akaza begins kissing down her again finally reaching her panties Akaza's gaze meets hers, seeking permission in his intense eyes before he slowly pulls down her panties. He kisses along her inner thighs softly, his touch gentle yet charged with desire. He pauses at the edge of her underwear, looking up at her for confirmation before sliding them off completely.

He dips his head lower pulling y/n’s legs apart his tongue explores her gently at first, teasing and tasting her essence. He hears her soft moan and it encourages him to be more persistent. His hands grip her thighs to hold them open as he focuses solely on pleasuring her with his mouth. His tongue circles her clit before pushing inside her gently. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment feeling the pleasure pulse through her body trembling she moans out his name as if it were a prayer “ Fuck..A-Akaza~”Hearing his name fall from her lips sends a thrill through him. He adds a finger, pumping slowly in and out of her as he continues to suck on her clit. His half-lidded eyes remain locked on hers, watching her expression twist with pleasure. He curls his fingers slightly, aiming to hit that sensitive spot inside her. Adding in a second finger her body responds beautifully, clenching around his fingers as he hits that spot inside her. He moans against her, the vibrations adding to her pleasure. His tongue moves faster on her clit while he finger-fucks her gently but firmly, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. His eyes never leave hers. “I-I’m close..Akaza please p-please” Y/n wraps her legs tighter around his head pulling him closer her fingers tangling into his soft rose-pink hair. The sight of her falling apart under his touch makes his cock ache painfully. As she comes undone under his touch, Akaza doesn't let up. He continues to lick and finger her through her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure until she's a trembling, oversensitive mess. Only then does he slowly pull his fingers out and kiss her inner thigh gently. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact with her. "Sweet," he murmurs approvingly, "The sweetest thing I've ever tasted." His voice is husky with desire and satisfaction. He kisses her inner thigh again before slowly crawling up her body.

Akaza’s lips hovered over hers, brushing softly as he leaned closer. Their foreheads touched for a moment, sharing warm, heavy breaths that mingled in the quiet of the room. Y/N’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her hair falling around her face in disheveled strands, and he let his hands rest lightly on her shoulders, keeping her close without pressure. His bare skin was warm against her fingertips, the heat of his body radiating in a way that made her pulse quicken. “You’re… intoxicating,” he murmured against her lips, his voice husky but gentle, filled with awe and longing. His eyes held hers, unbroken, as if he were memorizing every expression, every flicker of emotion that passed across her face. Y/N’s fingers brushed along his toned chest, tracing lightly without touching too much, drawing him closer despite the tremble in her own body. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, a magnetic pull that made her forget everything else every fear, every concern, every restraint. Their lips met again in a slow, lingering kiss, deep with feeling and unspoken words. Every press of his mouth against hers was a question, a promise, a recognition of the bond that had grown between them. Neither moved to break it, letting the world fall away, leaving only the heat and closeness of the moment.

Akaza’s forehead rested lightly against hers, his breaths deep and steady, matching hers as if syncing their heartbeats. Y/N’s hands lingered along his bare chest, feeling the warmth and strength beneath her fingertips, and she could feel a fluttering in her chest that both thrilled and unnerved her. He tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips again over hers in soft, lingering kisses, each one slow, deliberate, and full of unspoken words. His hands moved to gently cup her face, thumbs tracing the line of her jaw as though memorizing every contour. Y/N’s fingers threaded through his short, rose-pink hair, tugging slightly as a quiet sigh escaped her lips. Her thoughts raced, a mixture of disbelief and longing, of wanting to pull back and yet craving the closeness that pressed against her.

“You feel… alive,” Akaza murmured, his voice low and husky, a mixture of awe and something softer. His gaze locked on hers, intense yet tender, “more alive than I expected.”

Y/N’s chest rose and fell, words caught in her throat. She could feel a warmth blooming in her chest, spreading through her like a fire she didn’t want to put out. The world outside the room didn’t exist anymore. It was just them the quiet hum of the night, the heat of his body, the feel of his lips pressing against hers and the weight of everything left unsaid between them. For a long moment, they simply held each other in that suspended closeness, the kind that left hearts racing, breaths mingling, and a deep, undeniable connection settling between them. Akaza leaned back slightly, still holding her gently, and guided Y/N’s arms through the sleeves of her yukata. The soft fabric slipped over her shoulders, the familiar weight and scent grounding her after the whirlwind of emotions and adrenaline from the night. “There,” he murmured, his voice gentle as he adjusted the sash for her. “There, you’re comfortable again.”

Y/N let out a small, relieved sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing. She flopped back onto the futon, and he followed carefully, sitting beside her. The warmth of his bare chest radiated toward her, and she instinctively leaned slightly against him, feeling both safe and unsteady. He combed his fingers lightly through her long hair, teasing out the stray strands that had fallen across her face, his touch feather-light and deliberate. Y/N’s eyes grew heavy, the day’s exertion and the lingering tension finally catching up with her. “You’ve done enough for tonight,” he whispered softly, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Rest now.”

Y/N’s breath slowed as exhaustion took over, her thoughts fading into a warm haze. Akaza continued to run his fingers through her hair, his gaze softening as he watched her relax, the rise and fall of her chest steadying. The faint moonlight spilled across the room, highlighting the curve of her face, the way her hair shimmered in strands of h/c, and the peaceful expression she wore now. He stayed close, silent but present, letting her drift fully into sleep. A slow, quiet smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he admired her, the vulnerability, the strength, the gentleness all wrapped together in the girl lying before him. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply watch, to cherish the closeness, and to wonder how something so fleeting could feel so essential.

He stayed seated on the futon long after Y/N’s breathing evened out, her chest rising and falling softly beneath the yukata. The faint scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin, the gentle way she had allowed him to hold her it all pressed against his chest like a weight he couldn’t ignore. This… this isn’t just desire, he admitted to himself, though it was tangled with it. It’s something deeper. I’ve never… His thoughts faltered; he had never felt anything like this for anyone. Not for the countless slayers he had watched, not for the fleeting amusements of strength or combat.Her trust. That tiny, fragile trust she had placed in him tonight allowing him to guide her, to comfort her, to simply be near her without fear that was what struck him most. She could have pulled away. She could have fought. And yet… she let me. Me. His chest tightened at the thought. Every instinct in him his strength, his hunger, his nature fought against the emotions, yet he couldn’t push them aside. I want her all to myself. Not just in battle, not just for a fleeting moment of heat… I want her. Fully. Somehow, completely.

He shifted slightly, letting his hand linger in her hair as if he could anchor himself to her presence, to the quiet intimacy they had shared. He marveled at the contrast how delicate she could be, how strong, how alive. And yet, every flicker of thought, every small movement she made, pulled at something inside him that he hadn’t thought he possessed. I…I’m falling for her, he admitted, the words a whisper even to himself. The confession felt dangerous, a vulnerability he wasn’t accustomed to. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t. Y/N had touched something in him beyond hunger, beyond lust, beyond the thrill of strength. She had reached the part of him that wanted more than a fight, more than a moment. She had reached him. And as he watched her sleep, a faint, almost reverent smile tugged at his lips. No one touches her but me. And I’ll make sure she knows it…

The first pale hints of dawn had not yet touched the horizon, and the room was still bathed in the soft shadows of the night. Y/N slept peacefully, the faint rise and fall of her chest steady and untroubled. Akaza watched her for a moment longer, letting the quiet settle around them, the intimacy of the night lingering like a warm current between them. He shifted carefully, mindful of every movement so as not to disturb her. His bare feet pressed lightly against the tatami, and he allowed a final lingering glance at her at the way her hair fanned across the pillow, at the gentle curve of her shoulders beneath the yukata, at the serene expression she wore as if the world had momentarily paused for her.

She trusts me, he thought again, the words echoing softly in his mind. And I can’t take that for granted.

With a quiet breath, he leaned down, pressing a soft, almost reverent kiss to the top of her head, feeling the weight of his feelings in that simple gesture. He could stay, could risk more moments like this, but he knew the world outside was already stirring, and the life he led would never allow him the luxury of dawn beside her. Silently, he slipped toward the window, careful not to disturb the futon or the sleeping figure upon it. The cool air of the early morning met him as he stepped outside, the faint light brushing the horizon in soft golds and blues. He took a moment, letting the scent of her linger in his senses, committing it to memory. No one touches her but me, he repeated to himself, a vow and a warning both. His chest tightened at the thought, the pull toward her stronger than ever, but for now, he would leave her to the safety of her rest. With a final glance back through the window, Akaza vanished into the shadows before the sunrise, the quiet intimacy of the night leaving a trace in both their hearts that would linger long after he was gone.

Y/N pov:

The first light of dawn filtered softly through the shōji screens, painting the room in pale gold and stretching shadows across the tatami. Y/N stirred beneath her yukata, stretching slowly, the quiet hum of the morning wrapping around her like a blanket. For a long moment, she simply lay there, eyes half-closed, replaying the events of the night. The softness of his hands, the warmth of his body, the way he had guided her, kissed her, held her all of it swirled in her mind like a half-remembered dream. She blinked, half-expecting the memory to dissolve, to reveal that it had all been a figment of exhaustion or imagination. But no the lingering scent, the faint warmth in her chest, told her it had been real.

How did things move so fast? she thought, her fingers brushing against her own arms as if grounding herself in reality. Only a few weeks ago, he had been a distant, dangerous figure, a demon she hunted and feared. And now… this. Now, he had been here, so close, so intimate, so human in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Her heart still fluttered at the memory of his eyes, the way he had looked at her, not with hunger or menace, but with something else entirely. Something protective. Something… intimate. Y/N swung her legs over the edge of the futon, pressing her feet to the cool tatami. It feels like a dream, she murmured to herself, a small, incredulous smile tugging at her lips. And yet, my chest feels… like it’s been set on fire. She rose, moving to the window and letting the morning breeze wash over her face. The village outside was beginning to stir, faint sounds of carts and voices reaching her ears. She let herself linger there, allowing her mind to wander over the memory of him cradling her cheek, the soft, deliberate way he had asked her to sit with him, and the warmth that had blossomed in her chest.

So fast… so fast, she whispered, her voice almost lost in the wind. And yet, despite the confusion, despite the impossibility, there was a quiet joy there, a small thrill at the connection they had shared. Y/N pressed a hand to her chest, grounding herself in the present, but letting herself carry the memory forward like a secret ember she would treasure. The morning sun rose higher, painting the room in brighter hues, but she didn’t rush. For once, she allowed herself to linger in that soft, suspended space between reality and the dreamlike intimacy of the night.

The midday sun bathed the gardens of the estate in warm light, the air filled with the faint chirping of cicadas and the drifting fragrance of blooming plum blossoms. Y/N carried a lacquered lunch box, her hair brushed neatly, her uniform tied snugly around her frame. Despite her best effort to look composed, there was a glow to her cheeks and a softness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She joined Mitsuri and Tengen in the courtyard, where a low table had been set with trays of rice, grilled fish, and fresh pickled vegetables. Mitsuri, always bright and eager, waved her over with a grin. Tengen lounged with his usual confidence, his three wives seated nearby but giving the trio space to chatter. “Y/N!!” Mitsuri chirped, patting the cushion beside her. “We were just about to start!”

Y/N smiled faintly, settling down, her hands a little too careful as she placed her lunch down. Her chest still felt light, her thoughts wandering back to last night without her meaning to. It didn’t take long for Tengen’s sharp eyes to catch it. He leaned forward, smirking, his tone dripping with amusement. “You look… different today, Y/N. Dazed. Glowing, even. Did something happen last night? Some dazzling little secret?” Y/N nearly choked on her rice, coughing into her sleeve as Mitsuri pressed a hand to her mouth, trying not to burst into laughter.

Mitsuri leaned closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ohhh, I know that look. That’s not just being well-rested. That’s the look of someone who’s been… swept away.” Heat rushed to Y/N’s cheeks. “I—what? No! I’m fine, just—” she stammered, fumbling with her chopsticks. Tengen raised a brow, grin widening. “Fine? That doesn’t look like ‘fine.’ That looks like a girl who had quite the thrilling night. Come on, Y/N, I expect only the flashiest stories when you’re sitting with me. Don’t hold back.” Mitsuri giggled, nudging Y/N’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t tease her too much, Tengen! Can’t you see she’s already flustered?” Her voice dropped to a whisper just for Y/N. “But really… that glow in your eyes… that’s love.” Y/N’s mouth opened, ready to deny it, but her words faltered. She glanced down at her hands, her fingers brushing the rim of her bowl. Love. The word echoed inside her, frightening and thrilling all at once. “No, it’s not—” she began, too quickly, then softened, her lips curving despite herself. “I don’t know… maybe…”

Mitsuri’s squeal of excitement made Y/N’s heart squeeze. “Kyaaa! I knew it! You’re falling in love, Y/N! Oh, I’m so happy for you!” She reached to hug her, nearly knocking over the teapot in her enthusiasm. Tengen, meanwhile, sat back with a smug grin, clearly enjoying the show. “Well, well. Who’s the lucky one? Tell me it’s someone with flare. Someone worth a girl like you.” Y/N’s lips parted, but she froze, the truth catching in her throat. Her gaze flicked to Mitsuri, who smiled knowingly and shook her head just a little, silently telling Y/N not to say. “It’s… not important,” Y/N managed softly, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “Not yet.” Tengen’s eyes narrowed with curiosity, but he let it slide, waving a hand. “Hmph. Keeping secrets already? Fine, fine. But one day, you’ll have to spill it. And it better be spectacular.” Mitsuri beamed, hugging Y/N’s arm close, whispering so only she could hear. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. But I’m going to keep teasing you until you admit it to yourself.” And Y/N… couldn’t even be mad. Because despite her protests, despite her denial, the warmth blooming in her chest only grew.

As the meal wound down, Tengen stretched with a dramatic groan, shaking his head. “Hah! I forgot the sake. Can’t call it lunch without the right drink. I’ll go fetch it.” He rose to his feet with a flourish, striding toward the storehouse with two of his wives trailing after him, leaving the courtyard momentarily quieter. The moment Tengen disappeared down the corridor, Mitsuri shifted on her cushion, eyes sparkling as she leaned closer. “Okay, Y/N,” she whispered, barely able to contain her excitement. “Out with it! I can feel something happened, and don’t you dare keep me in suspense!” Y/N’s cheeks flushed instantly, her fingers tightening around her teacup. For a heartbeat she hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot. Then, almost in a rush, she let the words tumble out.

“…He came to my estate. Last night.”

Mitsuri’s mouth dropped open, her hands flying to her lips to muffle the squeal that threatened to escape. “Your estate?! Y/N! That’s oh my gosh!” Y/N’s blush deepened. “I thought I was dreaming at first. He was at my window… and when I asked him why, he said he just wanted to see me. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I let him in before anyone saw.” Mitsuri pressed her hands to her cheeks, leaning forward eagerly. “And then? What happened?” Y/N exhaled shakily, her chest tightening at the memory. “…He was so close. He touched me like I might break. One hand at my waist, the other… holding my face. And then he kissed me. It wasn’t just soft this time, Mitsuri uhm it was… heated. Like he wanted all of me. And I…” She stopped, lowering her gaze, lips trembling with the weight of the confession. “I let him.”

Mitsuri’s eyes went wide, her face coloring pink to match her hair as she clasped Y/N’s hands between her own. “Y/N! That’s… ohhh, that’s so intimate, so tender and passionate! He really cares for you can’t you see it? A demon would never do something like that unless you meant everything to him!” Y/N’s breath caught. The words pressed too close to the warmth already blooming in her chest. “…He helped me fix my yukata afterward. He… played with my hair until I fell asleep. And when I woke up, he was gone.”

For once, Mitsuri was quiet, her expression softening, touched so deeply she almost forgot to tease. Then her lips curled into a gentle, knowing smile. “Y/N… that’s not just desire. That’s affection. Maybe even love. You can deny it all you want, but I can see it in you…you’re glowing.” Y/N shook her head, though her smile betrayed her, small and uncertain. “I don’t know what this is, Mitsuri. I just… I can’t stop thinking about him.”Mitsuri leaned forward, resting her forehead lightly against Y/N’s with a playful grin. “That’s love, silly. And it looks so good on you.”

The two girls stayed like that for a heartbeat longer foreheads almost touching, tea cooling between them before the shoji door slid open with a sharp clack. “Ladies,” Tengen’s rich voice rang out as he strode back in, a wide grin on his face and a tray balanced in one hand. “Did you miss me? I brought something far more flamboyant than tea.”

He set the tray down with a flourish a bottle of sake and three small cups, the porcelain glinting faintly in the afternoon light. Mitsuri immediately sat back straight, her grin stretching ear to ear as if nothing had happened, though her cheeks were still flushed pink. “Tengen! You’re the best!” she cheered, clapping her hands. Y/N quickly ducked her face toward her teacup, hoping her own blush wasn’t obvious, but Mitsuri’s barely contained giggle beside her gave her away.

Tengen arched a brow, his maroon eyes flicking between them. “What’s this? Whispering secrets while I was gone?” He poured the sake into their cups with theatrical precision, each motion exaggerated. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the red cheeks and sparkling eyes. What scandal am I missing?” Mitsuri giggled outright this time, covering her mouth. “Oh, nothing scandalous!” she lied far too quickly, shooting Y/N a teasing glance. Y/N groaned softly, muttering, “You two are impossible,” but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. They each lifted a cup, the soft chime of porcelain meeting porcelain as Tengen raised his in a mock toast. “To secrets, then,” he declared with a wink. “And to making this afternoon less dull.”

The first sip of sake burned pleasantly, loosening the tension from Y/N’s shoulders. By the second cup, Mitsuri was giggling freely, cheeks pinker than her hair, while Tengen told ridiculous stories about his wives, exaggerating every detail until Mitsuri was doubled over, holding her stomach. At one point, he even mimicked the dramatic way Mitsuri had clasped Y/N’s hands earlier, saying in a mock falsetto, “Ohhh, Y/N, you’re glowing! You must be in love!” Mitsuri nearly choked on her drink, while Y/N buried her face in her hands, torn between laughter and mortification. By the third cup, all three of them were laughing together, the weight of the earlier confession softened into something warm and light.

The sun was beginning its descent by the time Y/N stepped out of the headquarters. The warm glow stretched long shadows across the path, painting the world in hues of gold and rose. The air was cool, crisp with the lingering breath of spring, carrying the faint fragrance of wisteria blooming nearby. Her steps were slow, unhurried, her sandals, clacking softly against the stone walkway. She hadn’t realized until now how much lighter she felt like a knot inside her chest had loosened, untying itself during the laughter she’d shared with Mitsuri and Tengen. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of Mitsuri’s words, the teasing sparkle in her eyes. Love. The word still felt too heavy to sit comfortably in her chest, yet it no longer filled her with dread. Instead, warmth lingered there, subtle and quiet, as though it had been planted and was just beginning to take root.

The path curved past a small grove of maples, their young green leaves whispering in the evening breeze. She paused briefly, letting the rustle of nature wash over her. Her fingers brushed the hem of her yukata sleeve, and she found herself thinking of the way Akaza’s hand had held her face so carefully, the way he’d looked at her as though she were the only thing in the world. Her smile deepened, soft and unguarded. the thought didn’t frighten her. By the time her estate came into view, the lanterns along the walkway flickering to life one by one, Y/N felt her heart steady. The weight of her duties, the chaos of her thoughts, the uncertainty all of it had dulled for now, replaced with something brighter.

She exhaled slowly, her lips curving into a quiet laugh that escaped before she could stop it. The night no longer felt so heavy. She was happy, even if she didn’t fully understand why. The wooden gate creaked softly as Y/N slid it open, the lantern light spilling a faint glow over the stone path. The quiet of her estate welcomed her instantly no chatter, no footsteps, no duties calling her name. Just stillness. She slipped off her sandals at the door and stepped inside, the cool tatami beneath her feet grounding her. Setting her katana gently against its stand, she shrugged out of her haori and folded it neatly, placing it atop the cedar chest. The air inside carried the familiar scent of pine and faint incense, soothing in its simplicity.

Her body felt heavy, the long day finally catching up to her. The laughter with Mitsuri and Tengen, the teasing, the confessions all of it still hummed in her chest, warming her even as her limbs ached with exhaustion. Without bothering to change, she padded across the dim room and lowered herself onto her futon. The moment her head touched the pillow, her muscles gave in completely, melting into the bedding.

She let out a slow sigh, eyes drifting shut as the faint rustle of the night breeze through the shōji screens filled the silence. Her last conscious thought was of a pair of gold-colored eyes, steady and unwavering, looking at her as though she were something precious. Sleep claimed her before she could stop it, swift and deep.

Sorry for the nsfw part being so short it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written smut but for the main part later on i promise it’ll be longer and better lol😭❤️

magicalgirlpropaganda

Do some ppl not daydream at all? Am 24/7 basically. I cant imagine not doing it. While I clean the house, I daydream that I am a maid for a wizard and I am cleaning their potions lab. If I am doing classwork, I am a tortured artist whose skill is the only thing they have left, if I am going to the store i am a high fantasy adventurer crossing the countryside to bring back supplies to my village. If im driving, im a mech piolet.

a-e-hawthorne

Aww yeah, it's all coming together. Sorta.

NSFW

Akaza can’t resist his pregnant wife what begins with tender worship turns into a night of passion, devotion, and his desperate need to fill her again and again.

Akaza x fem pregnant wife

Anon requested

I really hope yall enjoy this it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written smut but I did my best lol😭❤️

The night was thick with silence, broken only by the soft rhythm of your breathing and the restless stir beneath your swollen belly. Moonlight slipped across the futon, brushing your skin in silver as if even the heavens longed to admire you. Akaza lay close, his hand splayed protectively over the curve of your stomach, but his gaze lingered on you your flushed cheeks, the way your lips parted in sleep, the glow that motherhood had etched into your body. Desire stirred in him, quiet but insistent, mingling with reverence. You were carrying his children, yet you were still his wife, his woman, the one he craved in ways words could never hold. His fingers flexed against your skin, torn between the instinct to protect and the hunger to claim. Tonight, he could not resist the need to remind you not just of his devotion, but of the fire that still burned between you both.

His eyes darkened with need as he watched your chest rise and fall, the nightgown stretched taut over your breasts. The sight of your pregnancy made his blood heat his wife heavy with his children, still desirable to him in ways that drove him mad. He leaned closer, nuzzling into your hair, inhaling your scent. The futon was warm with the weight of his body beside you, but it was the heat of his lips brushing against your neck that stirred you from sleep. A low hum slipped from your throat, half-dreaming still, as Akaza’s mouth trailed slow, reverent kisses along your skin. His hand, calloused yet gentle, rested against the swell of your belly as though to remind you of the life you carried between you both even as he sought you in this moment.

“Mm… Akaza?” Your voice was hushed, laced with drowsy surprise as you shifted against him, your body instinctively curving into his touch. His breath was warm against your ear when he murmured your name, tone low and full of longing.“You’re too beautiful to leave untouched,” he whispered, his lips grazing the line of your jaw before returning to the hollow of your throat. And though exhaustion still clung to your limbs, you tilted your head for him, offering yourself as your fingers found his arm, clutching at the strength beneath his skin. His hand moved slowly down your side, tracing the curve of your belly before slipping beneath the hem of your nightgown. His touch was possessive yet tender, worshipping every inch of skin. “I’ve missed you all day,” he growled softly, pressing himself closer, his arousal evident against your hip. “Need to feel you.”

A shiver coursed through you at the heat of his words, your lips parting as your breath hitched. You shifted beneath him, pressing back into his touch, the edge of a smile tugging at your lips despite the blush warming your cheeks. “Then take me, Akaza…” you whispered, voice husky from sleep, your hand slipping over his and guiding it higher along your thigh. Your eyes fluttered open, catching his gaze in the moonlight soft, vulnerable, but full of the same hunger that burned in him. “I’ve missed you too.”

His eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your invitation, and he captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His fingers dug gently into your thigh as he lifted your leg over his hip, angling himself above you with care for your belly. “Careful,” he breathed against your mouth, though his control was slipping. “I want to savor you.”

Your breath caught as his body pressed closer, the weight of him both grounding and intoxicating. You cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the sharp line of his jaw before tugging him back into another kiss, slower this time, lingering. “I’m yours to savor,” you murmured against his lips, tilting your hips into his with a soft gasp. Your fingers slipped into his hair, anchoring him to you, needing him just as desperately. The hunger in his eyes ignited something deep in your chest, heat curling low in your body as you whispered, “Don’t hold back from me, Akaza… I want all of you.” He groaned at your words, his hands roaming higher to cup your breasts through the fabric. They had grown more sensitive during pregnancy, and he massaged them gently, watching your reactions with rapt attention. “Mine,” he repeated huskily, kissing down your neck to where your pulse raced. “And the mother of my children. My perfect wife.”

A whimper escaped you at the tender pressure of his hands, your back arching instinctively to meet his touch. The praise in his voice, raw and unguarded, sent a flush over your skin that burned hotter than his mouth on your throat. “Akaza…” you breathed, the sound torn between need and affection. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly as your thighs shifted around him. “You make me feel like I belong only to you.”Your words trembled with truth, every part of you yielding to the way he touched and claimed you not just with hunger, but with devotion that made your chest ache. He moved his lips lower, pulling the neckline of your nightgown down to expose your breasts. His eyes darkened further at the sight, and he circled one nipple with his tongue before sucking it gently. “You do belong to me,” he affirmed between kisses. “Every part of you, every change in your body. I’ll claim it all.”

A startled gasp left your lips as warmth pooled low in your belly, your fingers curling tightly in his hair. Akaza groaned against your skin, the rich taste filling his mouth as a bead of milk touched his tongue. His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and heavy with desire, yet softened by reverence.“Sweet…” he murmured, laving your nipple again as though savoring it. “Even this your body giving life, giving everything I could drown in you.” He suckled once more, his tongue teasing slow circles before releasing you with a wet sound that made heat rush through your body. He brushed his thumb over the swollen peak, admiring the way you trembled under his touch. “You’re perfect, Y/N. My perfect little wife. The most intoxicating woman I’ve ever known” his hand slid down the apex of your thigh feeling the wetness already gathering there. Your breath hitched at the gentle suction, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. Your fingers tightened in his hair, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer as your milk flowed freely into his mouth. “Akaza…” you moaned softly, feeling yourself grow wetter by the second. “That feels… so good…” Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking friction as he continued to worship your breasts with his mouth. The intimacy of the act, the way he drank from you so tenderly, made your heart race even faster.

Akaza groaned low in his chest as the warm sweetness spilled onto his tongue, his grip on your thigh tightening. He drank eagerly, savoring every drop as though it were the rarest nectar. Pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his lips glistened when he murmured, “Even your milk tastes divine… sweeter than anything this world could ever offer me.” His eyes burned into yours, half-worship, half-hunger. “You’re giving me everything our children, your body, your love. How could I not crave all of you?” He lowered his mouth again, suckling with more fervor, his free hand slipping between your legs to stroke the slick heat that waited for him. The combination made his control waver, his voice rough as he growled against your skin, “You’re mine, Y/N. All of you inside and out.” He shifted his weight, grinding his clothed erection against your core through the fabric of your nightgown. “How could I ever want for anything else?” he finished huskily, moving to lavish attention on your other breast. His fingers found your clit, circling it slowly as he drank from you. The pleasure built steadily between you both, his touch skilled and knowing. The night air was thick with the scent of sex and milk, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that only heightened your arousal.

Your thighs quivered around him, heat flooding your body as his fingers teased relentlessly. Each flick of his tongue, each slow circle over your clit, unraveled you further until your breath was coming in desperate gasps. “Akaza… please,” you moaned, arching into him, your nightgown twisting higher with every movement. Your need for him throbbed between your legs, wetness coating his fingers as he pressed deeper into your folds. He released your breast with a wet pop, licking his lips as though savoring the taste. His eyes were wild with desire, but beneath the hunger was something softer adoration so fierce it made your chest ache. “You’re sweeter than sin itself,” he rasped, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against your swollen clit while grinding harder against your core. “I could lose myself in you forever.”

With a rough groan, Akaza’s hand left your thighs just long enough to grasp the hem of your nightgown. His gaze lingered on you, asking for permission without words, but his impatience betrayed him as he tugged the thin fabric upward. Inch by inch, your body was revealed beneath the silver wash of moonlight until the gown slipped over your head and was discarded carelessly to the side. His breath caught. For a moment, he didn’t move, only stared at you your flushed skin, the curve of your breasts still damp from his mouth, the swell of your belly carrying his children. His hand traced slowly from the underside of your breast down the gentle roundness of your stomach, reverent, as though memorizing you with every touch. “You’ve never been more beautiful,” he whispered, voice thick with awe and desire. His lips followed the path of his hand, kissing the swell of your belly tenderly before trailing lower, his tongue tasting the skin just above your core. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, burning with adoration.

Akaza lowered himself between your thighs, spreading them gently to make room for his broad shoulders. His hands stroked along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, thumbs pressing lightly as if to both soothe and claim you. He kissed the swell of your belly one last time before trailing lower, each kiss sinking into your skin until his mouth hovered just above your aching heat.“Carrying my children… glowing with life… and still, you’re the most irresistible woman I’ve ever known,” he murmured, his breath hot against your folds. His tongue slid out, giving one slow, deliberate lick up your slick entrance, and you cried out at the contact. He groaned at your taste, gripping your thighs tighter as though the very flavor of you tethered him to this world. “Perfect,” he rasped before lowering his mouth again, this time devouring you with a hunger that left no doubt he worshipped every inch of you. His tongue circled your clit in steady, reverent strokes, drinking in every sound you gave him, every shiver of your body beneath his. “Let me have you, Y/N,” he whispered against you, voice low and rough. “All of you. Let me worship you.”

Akaza’s tongue moved in languid, deliberate strokes, never rushing, as if every taste of you was something to be savored for eternity. He alternated between teasing flicks against your swollen clit and slow, deep licks through your folds, each one making your thighs tremble around his head. His hands pressed firmly to your hips, holding you open for him, though his thumbs stroked your skin in soothing circles, grounding you even as he unraveled you. Your breaths came uneven, soft moans spilling from your lips with every pass of his tongue. You clutched at his hair, torn between urging him closer and trying to withstand the unbearable pleasure he gave so patiently. “Akaza…” your voice broke on a whimper, your hips twitching toward his mouth. He growled softly at the sound, the vibration sending sparks of ecstasy straight through you. He pulled back just enough to kiss your inner thigh, lips lingering there as his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “You taste like heaven,” he murmured, his voice husky with need. “And I’ll take my time, because you deserve nothing less.”With that vow, he dipped back between your folds, this time suckling gently at your clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud with aching slowness. He paused only to drag his tongue lower again, teasing your entrance with languid strokes before plunging inside, fucking you with his tongue while his nose brushed against your clit. The sounds of his devotion filled the room your breathless moans, the wet lapping of his tongue, his muffled groans of satisfaction as though pleasuring you was sustenance he couldn’t live without. “Let go for me,” he murmured when he surfaced briefly, lips glistening. “Let me taste everything you’ll give me.”

Akaza returned to you with renewed purpose, his mouth sealing over your clit in slow, reverent suction that made your entire body tense. He worked you with agonizing patience, tongue circling, flicking, then pressing firmly as he drew out every gasp, every moan you offered him. His hands never left you one anchoring your hip to keep you still, the other splayed protectively over the swell of your belly, grounding you in his care even as he drove you higher. Your thighs quaked around his head, threatening to close, but he growled low in warning, the sound vibrating against your most sensitive spot until you cried out. “Don’t hide from me,” he rasped, lips brushing your slick skin before diving back in. “Give me everything.” The heat coiled tighter and tighter in your core, each wave of pleasure sharper than the last as he refused to let you fall. His tongue teased you to the brink, then slowed, only to start again, torturing you with pleasure that built until your body felt like it might burst from the strain. “Akaza, please—” your plea broke into a sob as your nails dug into his scalp. He only groaned at the sound of your desperation, sucking harder, his tongue pressing relentlessly against the swollen bud of your desire.

The dam finally broke. Pleasure crashed through you in one consuming wave, white-hot and blinding. Your body arched off the futon, thighs trembling violently as you cried his name, shuddering against his mouth. He held you steady, drinking in everything you gave him, licking you through the convulsions of your release until your body could do nothing but tremble helplessly beneath him. When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistened, his eyes glowing with satisfaction and hunger all at once. He pressed a final kiss to the inside of your thigh, his voice low and reverent. “My perfect wife… you’re everything I’ll ever need.”

Akaza rose over you slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before lowering his lips to yours in a deep, messy kiss. You tasted yourself on him, his hunger still lingering as his tongue tangled with yours. His cock strained painfully against his pants, and with shaky fingers he shoved the fabric down, freeing himself with a groan of relief. “Spread your legs for me,” he rasped, guiding your thighs wider around his hips. His tip slid along your soaked folds, teasing, smearing your slick across his length. He paused only to glance at your swollen belly, his hand caressing it reverently. “Carrying my children already, and yet… I can’t stop wanting to fill you again. To make sure the world knows you’re mine.”He pressed into you slowly, the thick stretch making your breath hitch. Akaza’s face contorted with restraint, his jaw tight as he sank deeper, careful not to put pressure on your belly even as every inch of you swallowed him. “Fuck—” his voice broke into a growl, forehead pressing against yours as he bottomed out, buried fully inside. “You take me so perfectly… even now.” You gasped his name, your nails clawing at his back, body arching to meet him. The heat, the fullness, the way he filled you completely left your head spinning.

Akaza’s hips moved slowly at first, rocking into you with care, but the sight of you beneath him hair spread across the pillow, breasts full and flushed, your belly round with his children ignited something feral in him. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, yet never lost that rhythm of devotion. “My wife… my perfect, beautiful wife,” he panted against your ear. “I’ll keep filling you, every night if I have to, until there’s no doubt in this world who you belong to.” His hand cupped your cheek as his thrusts quickened, eyes burning into yours. “I’ll breed you again and again. My seed, my children, my legacy only through you.” Akaza’s thrusts grew rougher, deeper, the futon creaking beneath the rhythm of his need. His mouth claimed yours again and again, swallowing every gasp, every moan you made as if your voice was the only sustenance he needed. Your body clenched tight around him, the steady grind against your sweet spot pulling you higher until your release hit like fire through your veins. You cried out his name, walls spasming around his cock, and that was all it took for him to break.

With a guttural growl, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling deep inside you. Heat flooded your core in hot waves, his seed thick and unrelenting. He trembled against you, panting into your ear. “Take it… take everything. You’re made to be filled by me.” But even as his release slowed, he never softened. His hips resumed their rhythm almost instantly, grinding through the aftershocks as your body pulsed around him. His cock stayed hard, dragging against your soaked walls as though he could never get enough. “Too good,” he groaned, kissing the tears that had slipped down your cheeks. “I’ll fill you again… until it’s spilling out of you, dripping down your thighs. Until there’s no room left inside you but for me.” Another climax tore through you, weaker at first but no less intense, leaving you writhing beneath him. Your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tighter, refusing to let him go.

Akaza’s control shattered completely. He thrust harder, hips snapping against yours, his groans raw and desperate. He spilled into you again, thick spurts mixing with the first, his cock twitching as he pressed as deep as possible. “You’ll keep it all,” he growled, sweat dripping down his temple as he kissed you fiercely. “Every drop. My wife, my mate, the mother of my children you’ll never be empty of me.” His pace slowed only to shift angles, hitting deeper, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing with rough tenderness. The overstimulation had your body trembling violently, another orgasm ripping through you as you sobbed his name against his lips. Akaza’s own body shook with the force of yet another climax, his hips jerking helplessly as he painted your insides again, overflowing you until you felt his spend leak hot and wet around him. Yet still he stayed buried, cock twitching, unwilling to leave you for even a moment. He nuzzled into your neck, breath ragged, words breaking between kisses against your skin. “I’ll never stop, Y/N… not until I’ve filled you so much you’re spilling over. Even carrying my children, I can’t stop needing you. You’re mine always mine.”

Akaza never relented. Even as sweat dripped from his brow and his body trembled with exertion, his hips kept grinding into you with steady, relentless devotion. His cock throbbed inside you, swollen from release after release, yet still hard, still seeking more of you. You clung to him weakly, nails digging into his back as your body quivered with aftershocks. Each deep thrust sent ripples of pleasure through your overstimulated core, making you whimper into his ear. He swallowed every sound, kissing you feverishly, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate claim. “You’re shaking for me,” he rasped, thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. “So perfect, Y/N. Taking all of me… keeping all of me. F-fuck I’ll never get enough.” Another wave of heat spilled from him, though weaker this time, and still he refused to stop. He adjusted his angle, hips rolling deeper until the blunt head of his cock pressed against that tender spot inside you that made your vision blur. Your body arched violently, a strangled cry ripping from your throat as ecstasy bloomed again, stronger, sharper. You clamped around him so tightly that his rhythm faltered, his growl breaking into a ragged moan. “Y/N—fuck, you’re squeezing me so good—” His voice cracked, his pace growing frantic, hips pounding into you with desperate, uneven thrusts. His hand splayed over your belly as if to claim not just you, but the children you carried, the family you had given him. “I’m going to fill you one last time,” he groaned against your mouth, his words hot and broken.

Your walls fluttered around him, his thumb working your clit in ruthless circles. The coil inside you snapped with blinding force, your scream muffled by his lips as your body convulsed beneath him. Akaza’s climax tore through him at the same instant, his entire body seizing as he thrust deep and spilled into you with a guttural roar. The hot flood of his seed pulsed again and again, your core milking every drop as he pressed as far into you as possible, refusing to let a single ounce escape. You both shook with the force of it, his forehead pressed hard to yours, your gasps and moans mingling as pleasure dragged you down together. For long moments, there was nothing but heat, the thundering of your hearts, and the slick, overflowing mess between your trembling bodies. At last, Akaza stilled, still buried inside you, his arms wrapping you close as though he could fuse you into him. His lips brushed your temple, tender even in the aftermath of such feral passion. “My wife,” he whispered, voice raw and reverent. “My everything. I’ll never stop loving you, worshipping you. Even when you’re carrying my children I’ll always want more of you.”

Akaza stayed buried inside you long after the last waves of your shared climax had ebbed, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breath. His hands never left you one still spread protectively over the swell of your belly, the other cradling your cheek as though you were the most fragile, precious treasure in the world. He kissed you slowly this time, no urgency, just the lingering sweetness of devotion. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet dark. “You’re everything I could ever want,” he whispered hoarsely. His hips shifted slightly, as if reluctant to let you go, and he groaned at the sensation of his seed spilling slowly from you around him. Your body was spent, trembling, but you smiled softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing as if memorizing the feel of you. Carefully, he shifted to ease some of his weight off you, though he refused to withdraw completely, wanting to stay connected just a little longer. He murmured praises against your temple, his lips ghosting over your skin. “You give me everything… your body, your love, our family. I’ll spend forever proving I deserve it.” As your exhaustion pulled you toward sleep, Akaza pulled the covers over you both, gathering you close against his chest. His hand stroked soothing circles over your belly until your breathing slowed, his own body relaxing only once he felt you safe and warm in his arms. And still, even as he pressed a final kiss to your hair, he whispered with quiet reverence, “Mine. Always mine.”

Notes and reblogs are appreciated!!❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @lulliibeee @pastelrotdoll

OK NOW MAKE HIM DRINK OUR MILK HEHEHEHEH MAKE HIM GO ABSOLUTELY WILD WITH THAT BREEDING KINK DURING OUR PREGNANCY

OMG YESSS ILL BE WORKING ON IT TONIGHT🫡🫡

Edit: Akazaxpregwifesmut

❄️Headcannon❄️

Akaza x fem pregnant wife hcs

Requested by anon

I hope yall enjoy!!❤️❤️

❄️ During Pregnancy

• At first, Akaza is terrified when he realizes Y/N is pregnant. Not because he doesn’t want children, but because he can’t fathom something so pure and fragile surviving in his cursed world.

• Akaza is already hyper-attentive to Y/N’s needs, constantly worried if she’s eating enough or resting.

• He becomes fiercely protective never letting Y/N lift anything heavy, constantly bringing her food (sometimes sneaking the best fruits or sweets).

• He talks to them when he thinks Y/N is asleep soft whispers about how much he loves them already, how he’ll protect them, how he can’t wait to meet them.

• He notices her belly is bigger than he expected, but just assumes it’s because his baby is strong and healthy. He even brags about it “Our baby must be powerful, look at how much strength they already have.”

• When the movements inside her are sometimes in two different places at once, he furrows his brows, confused, but brushes it off.

❄️ The Birth

• When labor starts, Akaza is frantic. He paces, grips his own arms until they bruise, muttering under his breath. For once in centuries, he feels powerless. when it begins, he’s clinging to Y/N’s side, kissing her forehead, whispering encouragement even though he’s shaking himself.

• The first baby’s cry makes his knees nearly buckle. His vision blurs instantly with tears he can’t believe this tiny miracle is his.

• But then… another cry fills the air.

• Akaza freezes. His eyes snap wide open as he stares in disbelief. “W–what? Another?!”

• He falls completely silent for a moment, as if the world has stopped, before whispering in awe: “Twins…”

• When both are placed near Y/N’s chest, he cradles his head in his hands, laughing through tears. “Two… Y/N, you gave me two… You gave me more than I could ever deserve.”

• Akaza can barely breathe. He notices immediately

• Their cheeks are round and rosy, with soft skin that looks human but has an almost ethereal glow.

• Their tiny nose and lips remind him so much of Y/N, delicate and perfectly shaped, and he can’t help but lean in close to memorize them.

• Their little hands when one curls around his finger, he whispers hoarsely, “So small… so strong already.”

• When he finally gets to hold them, one in each arm, he’s speechless. His thumbs brush over their cheeks, his expression completely soft almost childlike wonder.

• He kisses Y/N’s forehead with a shaky voice “You’re… incredible. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

❄️ Their Features (Human–Demon Hybrids)

• Twin One

• Eyes: Soft teal, with faint slitted pupils, glowing faintly in the light.

• Hair: Pale with a blush of pink undertones, fine and wispy.

• Markings: Barely-there swirls along the temple, so faint they look like delicate birthmarks.

• Expression: Calm, observant even as a newborn, blinking slowly up at him.

• Twin Two

• Eyes: Pale rose-pink, a perfect mix of Akaza’s tones and Y/N’s warmth, also with the faint demon slit in the center.

• Hair: Darker, almost midnight black with faint streaks of blue when the light catches.

• Markings: A small curling mark along the arms, tiny and soft, like a promise of Akaza’s heritage.

• Expression: Crying louder, fists flailing already fiery, already stubborn.

❄️ Akaza’s Reaction to Their Features

• His tears don’t stop as he studies them. He can’t believe the symmetry of them two halves of a whole.

• He laughs shakily through tears when he realizes “They each took something of us… Y/N, look one has your lips, the other your nose… and their eyes… they’re ours.”

• He brushes his fingers gently over their faint markings, murmuring, “Not cursed. Beautiful. Proof that we exist… together.”

• When he finally holds both, one in each arm, he presses his forehead to theirs and whispers “You’re perfect. Both of you… I never thought something so good could come from me.”

❄️ Afterward

• He refuses to put them down, always keeping one twin against his chest while Y/N rests with the other.

• Sometimes he just sits there all night staring at them, whispering “Two gifts… I didn’t know I could be so lucky.”

• The fact that there are two of them makes him even more protective he swears nothing will ever harm his family.

❄️ As a Father

• He insists on staying awake while Y/N rests, holding the babies close to his chest and humming lullabies from his human life, melodies he thought he had forgotten.

• He never imagined himself worthy of love, let alone a family but with Y/N and their twins, he finally feels complete.

• Akaza becomes even more protective than before, unwilling to let anyone near them. But with Y/N, he’s gentle, always reminding her she’s the strongest person he knows for bringing their children into the world.

• For the first time since turning into a demon, Akaza doesn’t feel like a monster. With his twins in his arms, he feels like a father.

Lil Bonus:

The night was quiet except for the faint rustle of blankets and the soft, rhythmic breathing of the two tiny bundles nestled between you and Akaza. The twins slept soundly, their little hands curled into fists, faint markings shimmering like pale strokes of moonlight against their delicate skin. One had their lips parted, sighing softly in sleep, while the other stirred now and then, clinging unconsciously to their sibling. Akaza lay on his side, propped up on an elbow, completely transfixed. His eyes moved from one child to the other, then to you. You were exhausted, drifting in and out of sleep, but he couldn’t stop himself from whispering. “They’re… perfect,” he murmured, voice unsteady as if the weight of the words pressed on his chest. His fingers hovered over the twins’ cheeks before brushing your hair back from your face. “Y/N… you gave me this. You gave me them.” You stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open just enough to see him, his expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. A faint smile tugged at your lips, but before you could speak, his voice broke again. “I don’t deserve you,” he admitted, trembling fingers lightly tracing the outline of one twin’s tiny hand. “I thought my hands were only made for breaking… for hurting. But then you—” His throat caught, and he bent closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You made me a father.” The babies shifted in their sleep, and Akaza froze as if the whole world might shatter if he breathed too loud. When they settled again, he let out a shaky laugh, wiping his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. “Two miracles,” he whispered, turning his gaze back to you. “You carried them, protected them… and gave me more than I ever thought I’d have. Y/N, you’re stronger than I’ll ever be.” His hand found yours beneath the blanket, gently squeezing, He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then to the crown of each twin’s head. “I’ll protect you all,” he promised, voice so low it was almost a prayer. “Every breath, every fight everything I am is yours. You and our babies.” The room was silent again, save for the steady heartbeat beneath his palm as he rested it over your hand and the twins’ blanket. For the first time in centuries, Akaza felt whole.

Notes and reblogs are appreciated!!❤️❤️❤️

A heart left unburied

Part 13

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Part12 > Part14

this enemies-to-lovers AU, hatred burns slowly into something colder, sharper and far more dangerous than either of them ever expected.

Akaza x fem reader

Content: enemies to lovers,slow burn,multi part, sfw and nsfw,AU,kny,

Her breath hitched, caught somewhere between her chest and throat. She stood frozen, her knuckles white against the hilt of her sword, though she no longer had the strength or the will to lift it.

“…Are you okay?”

The words struck her harder than any blow could have. She blinked, once, twice, as if to clear her ears. Surely she’d misheard. Demons didn’t ask questions like that. They didn’t wait for answers. But then his hand moved, steady and unhurried, and the calloused heat of his palm pressed against her cheek. His thumb brushed just beneath her eye, cradling her face as though she might break apart if he held too firmly. Shock rooted her to the ground. She wanted to recoil, to snatch her blade up and sever the hand that dared touch her but her body betrayed her. Her chest rose too quickly, lungs struggling to keep pace with the storm rattling inside her. Her eyes flicked up, meeting his. There was no mockery there, no cold malice. Just an intensity that left her breathless, burning into her as if he were trying to memorize every detail of her face.

Why? Why was he looking at her like that?

Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. She searched herself for anger, for clarity, for the instinct drilled into her bones as a Hashira… but all she found was heat crawling beneath her skin where his hand touched her. And for a long, dizzying moment, she couldn’t decide what terrified her more his strength, or the tenderness that came with it. Her throat felt tight, her words trapped behind the hammering of her heartbeat. His hand was still warm against her cheek, steady in a way that didn’t make sense. Every part of her screamed that she should pull away, cut him down, run. Instead, she swallowed hard, forcing breath into her lungs.

“I… I’m fine,” she whispered, though her voice trembled with the weight of everything it didn’t say. His thumb lingered, brushing faintly along her skin, and she swore she felt his touch ease at the sound of her voice as if her answer meant something to him. Something more than it should. She forced herself to hold his gaze, though her chest burned beneath the intensity of it. “Why?” The single word slipped out before she could stop it, raw and shaky. Why had he stopped that demon? Why was he here? Why did his hand feel less like a threat and more like an anchor in the chaos? The silence that followed was thick, charged. The night itself seemed to wait, breathless, for what he might say. And yet, as she stood there with his palm cupping her face, Y/N realized something even more dangerous she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to let go.

His hand stayed firm against her cheek, the faint tremor in her voice still echoing in his head. Her question why hung between them like a blade suspended in the air, sharp and inescapable. Akaza’s lips parted, but for once no easy words came. He searched her face instead the frost still clinging faintly at her lashes, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her eyes burned with something that wasn’t fear. Finally, his voice came low, rough. “…I can’t explain it all.” Before she could press further, before words could twist into doubt or hesitation, he leaned in. His lips brushed hers softly, a fleeting touch that was both an answer and a promise. Warmth bloomed across her skin where their mouths met, and the rest of the world seemed to hush around them.

He lingered only for a heartbeat, enough to convey something he couldn’t or wouldn’t say aloud. Then he pulled back just slightly, letting his forehead rest near hers, his gaze searching hers, still unspoken but heavy with meaning. The quiet between them was alive now, charged. Her pulse pounded against her ribs, her thoughts tumbling over themselves, but his presence anchored her, close and undeniable. Her chest heaved, breaths shallow and quick, as if the air itself had become too thick to draw in properly. The warmth of his lips lingered against hers, and for a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even force her fingers to release the hilt of her sword. Shock, confusion, and something far more disorienting swirled inside her, curling like a fire against ice. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat louder than the last, and yet beneath the chaos, a strange calm threaded through her thoughts. He hadn’t said anything, and yet… the softness of that touch carried more weight than words ever could. She could feel the heat of him still radiating toward her, the faint tremor of restraint in the way he held her cheek. Why does this feel like both danger and… safety? Her mind flashed back to their first kiss, to the alley, to the storm of tension and desire that had erupted between them. And now, here, under the night sky, with his gaze locked on hers and his hand cradling her face, Y/N realized she was caught somewhere between fear and longing, unsure which emotion should dominate. Her fingers flexed around the hilt of her sword, grounding herself, yet even that small anchor couldn’t pull her entirely back. Her lips tingled where his had touched hers, and the memory of that softness made the warmth in her chest bloom wider. She closed her eyes briefly, taking a slow breath, trying to untangle the chaotic thread of feelings. And though she didn’t fully understand them, she couldn’t deny the truth simmering beneath her confusion she wanted him closer.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she felt the faintest shift as he drew back just slightly, enough for the air to move between them but not enough to break the charged closeness. Her cheek tingled where his hand had cradled it, lips still warm from his touch. She instinctively mirrored him, easing back an inch herself, though neither of them truly wanted the distance. The night air felt sharper now, colder against the heat that lingered between them. Every subtle movement the tilt of his head, the brush of his hair against the wind, the way his gaze lingered on her made her heart tighten and flutter simultaneously. Her fingers itched to reach for him again, to feel that contact, but she held herself still, fighting the pull that both terrified and enthralled her. Akaza’s eyes never left hers, unreadable yet soft in a way that made her breath hitch. He too pulled just an inch away, careful, deliberate, as though testing the boundaries of what they both wanted without needing words. For a long moment, they simply hovered there, inches apart, the world around them quiet except for the pulse of their shared proximity. The tension wasn’t gone it had only deepened but it was a different kind of tension now. A fragile, intimate understanding that spoke louder than words ever could.

The faintest shift in his posture caught her attention, and she realized he wasn’t moving entirely away just creating space, a careful distance that invited her in rather than pushing her out. “Sit with me,” he said quietly, voice low, almost a murmur against the night. There was no command in it, only an offering. “Just for a moment.” Her heart skipped, caught off guard by the softness, the lack of expectation. She hesitated, glancing around the deserted street, the shadows pressing in lightly from the buildings. And then she met his gaze again steady, patient, and just… open. Without another word, Akaza shifted, testing the edge of the rooftop, and then leapt up with effortless grace. The tiles barely made a sound under his feet. For a heartbeat, Y/N stared, breath catching, before curiosity and the pull of the moment won. She followed carefully, settling beside him on the cool, slightly uneven tiles. Above them, the stars scattered across the ink-black sky, pinpricks of silver glimmering faintly. The village below hummed quietly, a soft undercurrent, but up here it felt like they were alone in the world. Akaza’s gaze lifted to the heavens for a long moment before slowly drifting to her. “Some things… they don’t need words,” he murmured softly, voice low and almost lost in the night air. “But there are moments you don’t forget. Moments that linger.”

Y/N’s breath caught at the ambiguity, the quiet weight behind his tone pressing against her chest. She could feel the pull of it, the intensity of his presence, without understanding fully what he meant or how much of it was meant for her. He let a long pause settle between them, eyes still fixed on hers, unblinking yet gentle. Then, almost reluctantly, he straightened slightly. “I can’t stay,” he said, voice low, the faintest shadow of regret threading through it. “But… remember tonight.”With that, he moved, and before she could respond, he leapt down from the rooftop, vanishing into the shadows. The night stretched on around her, quiet except for the soft rustle of the wind, the stars above, and the lingering heat of his presence that refused to fade.

Y/N stayed frozen for a long moment after he vanished, the empty rooftop suddenly feeling larger, colder, and yet impossibly heavier at the same time. The faint creak of the tiles beneath her and the whisper of the wind through the village streets were the only sounds, but they felt amplified against the echo of his words. “Moments that linger…” she whispered to herself, the phrase looping through her mind. She clenched the edge of the tiles beneath her, trying to anchor herself, but her chest still felt tight, her heartbeat racing like it was trying to escape. She lowered her gaze, noticing the way the moonlight fell across her hands, the soft curve of her fingers, and the faint frost from the night air clinging to her eyelashes. Every detail felt sharper somehow, as though the world had slowed just enough for her to feel everything more intensely.

Her mind wandered back to his voice, low and steady, and to the way his gaze had found hers without saying too much, without needing to. A warmth bloomed in her chest uneasy, confusing, and insistent and she had to pull her hands to her lap to stop herself from trembling. Y/N exhaled slowly, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “Why do you… why do you do this to me?” she muttered under her breath, though the answer wasn’t meant to come from anyone. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, echoing the intensity of the night and the memory of his presence. She pressed her palms against the tiles, leaning back slightly to stare up at the stars again. They had seemed endless, serene, but now they felt like witnesses to everything she didn’t fully understand her own feelings, the lingering pull of him, the strange mix of fear and something else she didn’t want to name. For a long while, she simply sat there, letting the cold brush against her skin, letting the night stretch around her, letting the memory of him settle deep in her chest. She wasn’t sure what this was whether it was desire, curiosity, confusion, or something more but she knew one thing for certain she couldn’t stop thinking about him, and that realization made her pulse quicken, in equal parts dread and longing. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, she rose, brushing the dust from her yukata, and descended from the rooftop. The streets were quiet, the village asleep, yet the weight of the night and of him followed her with every careful step toward her inn.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thin shōji screens, painting soft gold stripes across the tatami. Y/N stirred beneath her blankets, the memory of last night still clinging to her like a second skin. The echo of his voice soft, low, intimate replayed in her mind “Moments that linger…” She stretched, limbs stiff from the night, and swung her legs over the side of the futon. Her bare feet met the cool wood of the floor, grounding her for a moment in the simplicity of the morning. Yet even as she moved, the warmth in her chest, that strange, insistent bloom, seemed to pulse with each step. She wrapped her yukata around herself and padded silently to the small window, looking out at the path she would take back to her estate. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth, but even the clarity of the countryside couldn’t dissipate the memory of him his steady presence, the careful way he had invited her to sit, the faint brush of his gaze across her features, and the lingering weight of his words.

Y/N’s fingers flexed against the fabric of her sleeves, almost unconsciously. She remembered the way the moonlight had kissed his skin, how his short hair had shifted with the night breeze, and how gentle, yet firm, his presence had felt when he had spoken to her. Her chest tightened again, but this time it was not fear it was warmth, quiet and spreading, curling deeper into her ribs. As she stepped outside, the path winding through the quiet village and toward the outskirts where her estate awaited, she found herself moving slower than usual. Her thoughts circled relentlessly: the way he had made her feel seen without pressing, the subtle care in his words, and the heat that had fluttered low and insistent in her chest. “I… don’t understand this,” she murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face as the breeze lifted it. “Why does it feel like this? Like I’m… burning from the inside, and yet… safe?”

The sun climbed higher, scattering light across the fields and forest edges, but the warmth inside her chest remained, pulsing with a strange comfort she hadn’t expected. With each step closer to her estate, the memory of him lingered, and a slow, undeniable realization crept in: she couldn’t push him out of her mind, no matter how she tried. By the time she reached the gates of her estate, Y/N paused, taking a deep breath of the spring air. The quiet strength she carried within her felt sharper now, tempered by the strange softness blooming alongside it. She placed her hand on the wooden gate, steadying herself, letting the sensation of last night settle into something less confusing, more… present. Whatever this was between them, she knew it wasn’t fleeting. And for the first time, the thought didn’t frighten he it intrigued her, igniting the warmth in her chest into something that felt like possibility.

The morning sun filtered softly through the branches, carrying the faint scent of blossoms as Y/N made her way toward the picnic spot Mitsuri had prepared. The blanket was already spread beneath a flowering tree, sunlight dappled across the grass, and Mitsuri’s bright, expectant smile made Y/N’s chest flutter in a way that felt strangely light. “Y/N! Over here!” Mitsuri called, waving energetically. Y/N returned a small, nervous smile, relieved to finally have someone to confide in. She lowered herself onto the blanket beside Mitsuri, smoothing her yukata and letting out a soft breath. “It’s… nice being out here,” she murmured, the morning air easing the tension in her shoulders. Mitsuri leaned forward, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “So… tell me! What happened? You look like you’ve got something big on your mind or maybe something exciting?”

Y/N hesitated, then spoke softly, her fingers twisting in her lap. “It’s… about Akaza. Last night… he..he protected me. When that demon attacked, he made sure I wasn’t hurt.” Mitsuri’s eyes widened in shock. “Wait… what? Akaza? The Upper Rank? He… he protected you?!” Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yes… and there was more. After the fight… he stepped closer, almost cautiously. He held my face in his hand, gently… and asked me to sit with him for a moment. He didn’t force me, but… the way he looked at me, it… it made me feel safe. And then he spoke, softly… just to me. Not words to explain anything, really… just, comforting words. And then… we sat there, side by side, watching the stars.” Mitsuri’s jaw dropped slightly, and then her grin widened. “Ohhh! Y/N… that’s so… so… romantic! He actually… cared enough to be gentle with you?”

Y/N nodded, warmth blooming in her chest. “Yes. And it wasn’t just kindness. It felt… personal. Like he wanted me there, wanted to protect me… even without saying it outright.” Mitsuri’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Y/N… that’s… love! You’re falling for him, aren’t you?” Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her hands, twisting them nervously. “I… I don’t know if it’s love… exactly. But… yes. I feel something for him. Something strong. And… I don’t know why, but it makes me happy and scared at the same time.” Mitsuri’s grin turned mischievous. “Happy and scared, huh? That’s classic love! Your chest tightens, your stomach flips, your heart feels like it might burst… that’s all it, Y/N!”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, the tension easing from her body. “Okay… maybe you’re right. I do… care about him. More than I should, maybe. But I can’t help it… not after last night.” Mitsuri reached over and squeezed her hand, voice gentle. “Then that’s what matters, Y/N. Don’t fight it. You’ve felt something real, something that makes your heart lighter. And the way he treated you… that gentleness, that care… it’s rare, especially from someone like him.” Y/N nodded, closing her eyes briefly as a small smile tugged at her lips. “I… I’m happy to be able to tell someone,” she admitted. “It feels lighter… like I’m not carrying it all alone.”

Mitsuri leaned back, still holding her hand, a teasing grin lingering. “Your secret’s safe with me. But… I’m excited for you! He’s strong, yes, dangerous even… but he sees you. He notices you. And that… is special, Y/N.” The two sat together, sharing sweets and sipping tea, the morning breeze brushing their faces. For the first time in a while, Y/N let herself feel the warmth in her chest fully, the memory of Akaza’s gentle touch and quiet words filling her with a soft, budding happiness she could finally admit even to herself.

The bathhouse’s wooden sliding doors creaked softly as Y/N and Mitsuri stepped inside, leaving behind the crisp morning air. Steam curled from the large stone pools, carrying the mingling scents of herbal oils and warm water. The soft trickle of water echoed against the walls, creating a calming rhythm that made Y/N’s shoulders finally relax. Mitsuri, ever bright-eyed, clapped her hands together. “Ahh, this is perfect! You deserve a break, Y/N. You’ve been working so hard on your training… and, you know, dealing with him,” she said with a cheeky wink.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm and a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Mitsuri… I’m trying to just… relax,” she murmured, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement. The two made their way to the changing area, slipping out of their yukata and into the soft towels provided. The steam clung to their skin as they dipped into the hot water, sighing in unison at the comforting heat. Y/N sank in slowly, letting her muscles loosen, the tension of patrols and missions melting away.

Mitsuri leaned back against the edge of the pool, her long hair trailing in the water. “You look… so serious sometimes, Y/N,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Like someone stole your favorite dango, and you’re plotting revenge.”Y/N rolled her eyes, splashing a little water toward Mitsuri. “I’m not serious all the time,” she protested, though her smile softened the words.“Oh, come on,” Mitsuri laughed, flicking water back at her. “You’re adorable even when you’re being all stoic. And, let me guess… still thinking about him?” Her voice dropped conspiratorially, teasing without hesitation. Y/N’s cheeks flushed hotter, and she ducked her head, hiding a small laugh. “Maybe,” she admitted quietly, though her voice carried a hint of warmth she couldn’t deny. Mitsuri leaned closer, elbow resting on the pool’s edge, her grin growing even more mischievous. “So… tell me, Y/N. Did you by any chance kiss him again last night? Or… was that all in your head?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she spluttered slightly, nearly losing her balance in the water. “Mitsuri! I no! We didn’t It’s not!” she stammered, flustered and embarrassed, the warmth in her chest spreading further at the implication. Mitsuri giggled, clearly delighted at her reaction. “Aha! I knew it! You’re blushing! Oh, Y/N, you can’t hide it from me. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe… but I might have to tease you for the rest of the day!”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, shaking her head despite the heat in her cheeks. “You’re terrible, Mitsuri,” she murmured, though her voice carried a lightness that hadn’t been there before. “Terrible?” Mitsuri said with mock offense, splashing a little water toward her. “No, no, no! I’m just excited for you! He… he’s strong, yes, dangerous even but he’s got some emotional connection with you. That’s special, Y/N. And you can’t deny that it feels good to be cared for.” Y/N leaned back against the pool’s edge, the warmth of the water seeping into her muscles, her heart still racing slightly. “I… I know. It does feel… good,” she admitted softly, her gaze dropping to the steam rising from the water, thinking of the gentle way Akaza had held her and asked her to sit beside him. “He… he was so gentle with me… and kind… and there was this… weight behind his words. Like he really wanted me there.” Mitsuri reached over and squeezed her hand, voice gentle. “See? That’s why I know you’re falling for him, Y/N. You can’t deny it any longer. But… the way he treats you, the care, the gentleness… that’s rare. Treasure it.” Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself breathe, letting herself smile. “I… will. I really will,” she whispered, a soft warmth blooming in her chest that felt brighter than the morning sun streaming through the bathhouse windows.

The moon hung low over the estate, casting silver light across the tatami floors of Y/N’s room. She sank into the quiet of her space, the soft rustle of silk and the faint scent of pine from the garden drifting in through the slightly open window. Seated before her low vanity, she ran a brush through her long, dark-hued hair, the strands catching the moonlight with each careful stroke. Her thoughts wandered, replaying the day the laughter and teasing at the bathhouse, Mitsuri’s uncanny ability to see through her carefully constructed composure, and the warmth that had bloomed in her chest when speaking about Akaza. Her fingers paused mid-brush as she remembered the gentle way he had held her face, the softness in his voice when he had asked her to sit beside him on the rooftop. That fleeting closeness, the careful restraint, had left a lingering heat that made her cheeks flush even in the cool night air.

She shook her head lightly, trying to focus on the rhythmic motion of brushing her hair, on the familiar tangibility of the strands sliding through her fingers. “It’s just… confusing,” she murmured to herself, the words almost lost in the quiet. “Why do I feel like this around him?” Her thoughts drifted back to the events that had made her heart flutter the moments of protection, the shared warmth, the strange and undeniable pull she couldn’t quite name. A faint shiver ran down her spine, part from the cool night breeze and part from the memory of his presence lingering in her mind. The steady brushing of her hair was interrupted by a soft tapping against the window.

Y/N froze, the bristles suspended against her scalp. Her eyes widened slightly as she leaned forward, tilting her head toward the sound. The moonlight framed the silhouette outside a shadow too deliberate to be a wandering branch, too soft to be a mistake. Her pulse quickened, the warmth in her chest twisting into a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “Who…?” she whispered, barely audible, as she set the brush down on the vanity and rose to her feet. The tapping came again, gentle, measured, almost as if inviting her attention. Y/N’s fingers curled lightly around the edge of the shōji, the cool wood grounding her. Her heart thudded in her chest, every sense heightened in the quiet of her room. Whoever it was or whatever was waiting, patient, and she could feel the weight of their presence even before seeing them clearly.

Y/N’s breath caught as she leaned closer to the slightly open shōji, moonlight spilling across the floor and casting soft shadows around her. Her eyes widened when she saw him Akaza, perched silently on the edge of the roof, his short rose-pink hair catching the glow of the moon. “Akaza…” she murmured softly, almost a whisper, confusion threading her voice. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Why… why are you here?” His gaze met hers, steady and intense, yet gentle. “I wanted to see you,” he said simply, his voice low and deliberate, carrying a weight she couldn’t quite place. Y/N’s fingers trembled slightly on the edge of the window frame. The warmth in her chest that had started blooming days ago now surged in her throat. Without thinking, she slid the shōji open a little further, letting the cool night air brush against her face. “Then… come in,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “Before anyone sees you.”Akaza tilted his head, a faint, unreadable expression on his face. For a heartbeat, he seemed to hesitate, as if weighing the risk, before he moved with graceful ease. His feet touched the wooden floor of her room lightly, silent as a shadow. The subtle shift of his presence filled the room instantly, the air growing charged in a way that made her pulse leap. Y/N’s eyes followed him, heart racing as she realized just how close he was now. The faint moonlight outlined the sharp angles of his face, the subtle curve of his lips, and the intricate tattoos tracing the lines of his temples. Every detail seemed heightened, every small movement deliberate.

Akazas pov

Akaza’s gaze lingered on her the moment he stepped fully into the room. The dim moonlight filtered through the window, catching the subtle shimmer of her long h/c hair as it cascaded down her back, a contrast to the pale blue of her loosely draped yukata. Each fold of the fabric clung lightly to her shoulders, revealing just enough of her form to make his chest tighten with a strange, unfamiliar pull. Her skin glowed faintly in the cool moonlight, soft and smooth, the curve of her neck and collarbone exposed in a way that made him hesitate to look too long, though he couldn’t tear his eyes away. His attention drifted lower, catching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her hands lingered nervously at the edge of the window, and then back up to her face her full, soft lips, slightly parted, and those eyes… the e/c color seemingly kissed by sunlight, wide and unguarded, holding his gaze with a mix of curiosity and something he couldn’t name.

He swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat, heart thundering in a way it hadn’t in years. There was a pull he couldn’t resist, a tension that went far beyond simple desire. Every line of her, every small motion, called to him, made him aware of how alive he felt and how utterly unprepared he was to fight it. Akaza stepped slightly closer, not out of aggression but because he wanted to close the distance between them, to drink in the sight of her fully. The subtle scent of her, faintly sweet and clean, reached him, and his mind faltered, a rare flicker of uncertainty passing through him. He had seen countless faces in his long existence, had fought, killed, and devoured but none of them held him like this. None had made him pause, had made him want to stay, simply to look. For a long moment, he allowed himself to take it all in the way her hair tumbled freely, the soft curve of her shoulders beneath the yukata, the plumpness of her lips, the depth in her eyes, and the quiet, unspoken question in her gaze that seemed to ask why he was here, and what he might do next.

Akaza’s breath came slower now, careful, deliberate. He wasn’t moving too fast. He wasn’t forcing anything. Yet the desire to be closer, to feel just a fraction of her presence, made him step another careful inch forward, his gaze never leaving hers. Akaza’s eyes darkened slightly, a storm of emotion and desire swirling beneath the calm veneer he usually carried. He shifted closer, closing the last fraction of space between them, drawn irresistibly to her warmth, her presence, the way she seemed to anchor him even in the chaos of his nature. One hand moved first, settling firmly yet gently at her waist, feeling the soft curve beneath his palm. The other rose slowly, trembling slightly as he cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing lightly across her cheek. The heat of her skin seared through the cool night air, and every nerve in his body seemed to hum with a fierce, unrelenting need. He leaned in, his forehead brushing against hers for a heartbeat, giving them both a moment to catch their breaths, to let the tension coil and stretch between them. Then, with deliberate hunger, he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was deep and consuming, charged with a mixture of desire and something far more primal possession, connection, a fierce recognition of the bond forming between them. He held her close, the hand at her waist pressing slightly, keeping her flush against him, while the other cradled her face, tilting it just enough to deepen the kiss. Every movement was measured but full of passion, a hunger he had never allowed himself to feel with anyone else. Her response the subtle press of her body against his, the soft sigh that trembled past her lips only fed the fire, making him acutely aware of how much he wanted her, not just in fleeting desire, but entirely.

For that suspended moment, the world outside the moonlight, the quiet town, even the distant rustle of trees faded. There was only them, the heat of her body, the brush of their lips, and the unspoken intensity of everything that had been building between them. Akaza’s lips parted slightly, pulling back just enough to gaze into her eyes, reading the mixture of shock, curiosity, and desire that mirrored his own. Without breaking the connection, his hands guided her carefully, one still cupping her cheek, the other moving to her back and waist, gently steering her toward the futon. Y/N’s breath hitched as she realized what he was doing, yet she didn’t resist. There was an unspoken trust, a fragile understanding that this wasn’t about force it was about closeness, about the tension that had been building for weeks finally finding its release.

He eased her down onto the soft futon, hovering above her, his body warm against hers, the heat of the night blending with the warmth radiating from their shared desire. The kiss deepened, his lips pressing against hers with a controlled intensity, a hunger tempered by the care he showed in every movement. His hands roamed slightly, tracing the curves of her body beneath the loose folds of her yukata, feeling the softness of her skin, the subtle shiver of anticipation that made his chest tighten with need. Each kiss, each press of his lips against hers, was a question, an exploration, and her soft responses only encouraged him further. Akaza’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring the feel of her under him, the way her body fit against his as though she had always belonged here. Yet, even in the intensity of the moment, he remained aware, careful to maintain the balance between passion and gentleness, between hunger and respect. For a moment or perhaps several the world outside ceased to exist. It was just them, the quiet room, the soft rustle of fabric, and the deep, consuming connection that neither had fully allowed themselves to confront until now.

Akaza with pregnant human wife (us) AND HIM SEEING HIS WITTLE BITTLE BABY HYBRID TWINS HEADCANNONS? :333

YESS LAWD I LOVE THIS IDEA IM ON IT RN🫡

edit: its been posted!!!

Akazaxpregnantwife

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