Hi there! :) I'm writing for multiple fandoms, so if you have any requests, just ask!
The fandoms I write for are:
- Record of Ragnarok
- Twisted Wonderland
- Demon Slayer
- Genshin Impact
- Honkai Star Rail
- Hunter x Hunter
- Jujutsu Kaisen
- Arcane (yk, the one on Netflix)
- Slashers (OGs, Remakes and Games)
And many more, so just ask and I'll look it up! :)
The King of Curses sat upon his throne, and yet you had no issue glaring up at him. As if it were your stare that could cleave. Your hands that could ignite his shrine into blitz and ember.
Bundled in a silk blanket and babbling up at you with eyes as ruby as her father's, your daughter chewed on her thumb. Blissfully oblivious to the tyrant from which she came.
Sukuna refused to hold her.
It was subtle, at first. When she was born, he claimed that it was vital for a baby to stay close to its mother. For warmth, food and comfort.
It had been four weeks, and your husband hadn't so much as grazed her tiny pinkie.
"Why?" You asked, anger blooming in your throat like the flowers he had planted in the gardens for you. He would sully his knees in the soil and his hands in the mud for your benefit, but couldn't bear to hold the life that he had created?
Sukuna's face was hard in a scowl. Each maroon eye glaring into your soul.
A beat of silence.
"I do not want to."
You flared, clinging your baby closer. "Are you ashamed? Ashamed of the life we created?"
"No, damnit woman—"
"Then why!?"
"Because I will mar her!"
The shrine shook as he shoved himself out of his throne. Standing now. It was at his full height that you recognised the being thousands feared. Four arms, two faces, and a stature that rose from hell.
His glare burned, but it wasn't anger. Face twisted in an emotion you hadn't seen enough from him.
"I will— hurt her. Is that what you want?"
Vulnerability.
Your daughter startled. Sniffling at the booming voice that rattled the floors. You watched her face squish and her lip quiver, before a broken, hiccuped sob filled the air.
His shoulders sunk. The fight seeping out of him. You watched his eyes swell with many things you'd never seen before.
Guilt, sadness.
Fear.
Rocking your startled baby, you held her close with soft shushes, but her sniffles soon turned into wails. Sukuna's stood frozen, sullen.
You understood, now.
Cradling the small girl, you stepped forward. Up the stairs to the platform of his throne. Even as he took a step back, you persisted.
"Sukuna. . ." You called to him. Soft in the way that only you were capable of being with him.
He almost flinched.
"This child, she's ours. Our daughter, made with love."
You stood right in front of him now. Taking in his wound up muscles and squared shoulders. Looking more like a deer ready to sprint than a father.
A father who feared that his hands were too rough, too evil, to nurture his own child.
"You won't hurt her. Because she's ours." Reaching forward, you held out the sobbing bundle. Watching his face and the several shades of uncertainty it turned.
You had never seen him so. . . frightened.
You pushed past his hesitancy, carefully placing your daughter into a set of his hulking arms. She was tiny compared to him. Seemed he was processing that too.
Aiding his position, you slipped one of your hands to tenderly hold him by the bicep as he, for the first time ever, held his daughter.
His breath was hitched. All of his eyes gaping at the small bundle in his arms. Watching her as if she were the most delicate piece of porcelain.
Your daughter's sobs stirred into sniffles, then hiccups, until. . . silence.
As big, ruby eyes stared up at her father. Taking him in. His face, his warmth.
And then, she beamed a toothless smile.
Sukuna tensed. A shaky breath hitching.
"She's— she's smiling. Why is she smiling?"
He quickly looked to you. Brows pinched. Looking lost, looking scared.
You offered him a smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Because she knows that her father loves her." Tickling her neck, you hummed as she squirmed a bit and giggled, pressing more into him.
He instinctively held her closer. Eyes unblinking.
You watched as Ryomen Sukuna, The King of Curses, melted. His heart swelling as he stared at his daughter. Even bringing one of his fingers closer to her, so that she could grab at it. Hugging around it with that big, bring smile.
His mouth quirked at the corner. Faint, but tender.
"Yeah. . ." He whispered, voice thick with emotion. Centuries worth of affection for his child, his daughter.
"Your father loves you. More than anything. More than life."
baby yuji loves his pretty auntie who brought him his favorite plush tiger! I wanted to do something cute cos I love bby yuji
“auntieeeeeeee!!!” the little glob of sunshine screeched and crashed face first into your thigh. he always loved when you visited him and his uncle kuna. you always indulged his childish antics, let him ramble for literally hours about tigers and his best friend megumi (poor kid had the attention span of a hyperactive puppy) how could he not love you?
“can she at least get through the damn door before you go tacklin’ her?” sukuna scolds the tot but there’s no true bite to his bark. “and stop calling her that, punk.” the kid hisses at him, bearing his two missing front teeth, all the while you chuckle above him. the man couldn’t get two seconds alone with you while the kid was around, but honestly it seemed healthy to have you around. yuji opened up about some of the things he was going through to you a lot easier than he did with his uncle. sukuna had temporary custody of the little boy until his twin brother and sister in law got themselves together. you gave both of them some relief when it came to that delicate situation.
back to the present, yuji clings to your leg, arms and legs wrapped around you in a vice grip. he tries to take a peak inside the paper bag you’re keeping out of his reach.
“stop being mean to my nephew,” you say, and commence an awkward waddle-walk to the couch where sukuna’s leaned back on. once you finally coax the boy off of your leg, he squeezes in between his two favorite people on the couch to watch, in sukuna’s words a “boring ass movie,” to which you reminded him a child was present and not to swear in front of a kid.
“auntie?” he asks, brown eyes magnetized to the movie still.
“yes?”
“whats in the baggie?” he notices the glance you give up to sukuna, who’s casually snuck his arm across the couch behind your head. sukuna shrugs. your bones pop as you stretch, and you hop off the couch to head to the dining room table where you placed the bag. yuji springs up right after you, feet pitter pattering across the apartment floor.
“close your eyes,” you say, but yuji’s too excited and is already barreling a plethora of questions at you. it’s so cute—you honestly would let him go on for the rest of the night, but ryomen cuts the toddler off.
“just close your eyes, brat,” he commands with a slight bass in his voice. he snaps his eyes shut and puffs out his cheeks, holding his breath in anticipation as he hears you rustle the bag for a moment.
“okay, you can open them now!” he slowly opens his eyes, and as he does, they nearly pop out from his head. he squeals excitedly and bounces up and down, his tiny body spasming in pure joy.
“baby, the neighbors!”
“sowwy!” sukuna sighs. yuji reaches for the tiger, but recoils, as if he’s not sure if he wants to take it or not.
“uncle sukuna told me you were having a hard time sleeping, so I thought this little guys would help keep the nightmares away,” you explained. you urged him to take the toy. he looks back between the stuffed tiger and his uncle, who was watching from his spot on the couch.
“you just gonna stand there or are you gonna take the damn tiger?” yuji snatches the tiger and squeals a bunch of rushed together “thank you’s!”and crushed the toy in a death hug.
“THANK YOU THANK YOU! I LOVE YOU FOREVER!! I WISH MY UNCLE WOULD MARRY YOU!!!”
“alright, bedtime,” sukuna suddenly says and gets up from the couch and ushers the child to the back of the apartment. you giggled at the scene before you. sukuna glares but you pay him no mind. you of course, also help him get ready for the night.
later on, you tell the little boy goodnight, and leave him with his uncle for a few moments. he looked so comfy and snug with his little tiger he affectionately named after you.
as yuji drifts off into sleep, he reaches his stubby fingers for his uncles strong hands.
“uncle ‘kuna, um, can she stay?” it was a loaded question. he watches as his nephew falls asleep instead of giving him an answer.
“Mh?” Thorin’s blue gaze flickers to you. “You– you think it looks messy?”
You shake your head. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. I suppose… I just think you’d look good.”
And that’s how, unexpectedly, Thorin sits on a chair and lets you do it.
For first, you comb his long, dark, full mane, untangle the knots and smooth them with your hands. You put the comb away, way too aware of the silence that falls between the two of you, and you start separating his hair into strands. They feel extremely soft under your touch.
It’s a calm, domestic moment that brings to you both a rare peaceful and comforting feeling.
“Tell me if I’m pulling too much.”
Thorin lets out a genuinely amused laugh. “Do you believe you could hurt me?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Are you doubting me?”
“Well, yes. If you think your strength is enough to inflict me pain you are out of your– ah!” The dwarf king snaps backwards when you pull one of the locks you had divided.
You giggle. “Oops, I’m sorry, that was unintentional.”
You can’t see him but you know he’s rolling his eyes. “Sure,” Thorin agrees sarcastically, his expression way too serious for the joke you have just pulled.
When you finish braiding, you step back to look at the result. Your eyes widen. His hair look so elegant, elaborately embroided like that. In one big central braid are converging smaller ones, while the remaining loose thick hair fall free, wavy and heavy, under your creation, making the whole outcome extremely appealing to the gaze.
Thorin appears ethereal. Elvish, almost, but you’re careful avoid to say that. “You look gorgeous,” you comment instead. “Royal. It suits you a lot.”
You turn around to face him and notice his embarrassed expression. “Is that it?”
You nod, smiling at the sight of his shy, composed reaction. You didn’t expect anything more from him, but still enjoyed the little playful experience. “I should do it more often.”
Summary: A visiting Yautja clan quickly learns the consequences of disrespecting King’s pregnant human mate.
The arrival of another clan always changed the atmosphere of the stronghold long before their ships ever appeared, because among the Yautja, visits between clans were never simple matters of diplomacy or celebration, instead, they were carefully balanced displays of strength, hierarchy, and control where every gesture, every word, and every movement carried meaning under the surface.
You could feel the change everywhere around you.
The guards stationed throughout the halls stood straighter than usual, their armour ceremonial rather than practical. At the same time, servants and lower-ranked warriors moved with noticeably greater urgency through the towering stone corridors. They were preparing feasting halls, organising trophies for display, and ensuring that every inch of the stronghold reflected the power of the King who ruled it.
And because you carried his child, because his heir now grew safely underneath your heart, the tension surrounding the visit seemed even sharper than before.
You sat near the great fire within the upper chamber, one hand resting against the curve of your stomach while the flames cast warm light across the stone walls, and despite the comfort of the room, you could still sense the unease spreading throughout the fortress like an approaching storm.
The child had been moving since morning, restless and strong, moving under your skin often enough that you wondered if perhaps he could somehow feel your mate’s tension as clearly as you could.
The doors to your chamber opened heavily.
Your mate entered, and even after everything the two of you had shared together, the sight of him still carried the same overwhelming presence that had once frightened entire villages, because there was simply no way to ignore a creature built so powerfully, wrapped in armour and trophies, carrying himself with the kind of confidence only a true ruler could possess.
Yet despite his terrifying appearance, his attention found only you.
Always you.
His eyes swept across the room first, assessing in the instinctive way of a hunter, ensuring no danger had entered his territory before finally settling where you sat beside the fire.
“There you are,” you murmured, smiling as he approached.
He crossed the chamber in slow steps until he stood directly in front of you, one large hand moved carefully against the swell of your stomach with a surprising gentleness that never failed to make you smile.
The child shifted almost immediately under his touch. A pleased rumble sounded from deep within his chest at the reaction.
“They approach,” he said after a moment, his voice low and steady.
“The western clan?” you asked quietly.
“Yes.”
You knew of them already, at least through stories and reputation, because the western clan was among the oldest surviving bloodlines still aligned with your mate’s territory, made up of hunters known for their efficiency and deep devotion to honour, though they were also infamous for their pride and unwillingness to tolerate weakness in any form.
Your fingers brushed lightly against his wrist.
“You’ve been tense all day.”
“They are guests,” he answered carefully.
You smiled faintly because that was not truly the issue.
“And?”
His mandibles moved slightly before his eyes dropped briefly toward your stomach once more.
“You carry my heir.”
There it was.
The real concern.
Since your pregnancy became visible, your mate’s protective instincts had intensified to almost absurd levels, to the point where nothing entered your chambers without inspection, no warrior approached you without permission, and even the healers who examined you regularly found themselves watched with heavy scrutiny.
At first, you had found it excessive.
Now, strangely enough, you found it comforting.
“You know they are not going to challenge me,” you said softly, tilting your head up toward him.
“They would not survive it.”
The confidence in his answer made you laughh.
“You are very intense.”
“I am correct.”
“You usually are.”
That answer seemed to satisfy him enough that some of the tension left his posture, and then he leaned down and pressed his forehead briefly against yours in one of the rare moments of intimacy he allowed himself when no one was watching.
“You will remain beside me during the gathering,” he told you.
“I assumed as much.”
“You will not leave my sight.”
“You say that as though I wander endlessly when you are not looking.”
“You would if allowed.”
That made you laugh properly, and for a short moment, you watched the severity in his expression soften at the sound.
---
The visiting clan arrived before nightfall, their ships descending while warriors lined the entrance hall in ceremonial formation, creating a display impressive enough that even you found yourself pausing to admire the sheer scale of it all. Even though you have seen it before. They never fail to amaze you.
When the western clan finally entered the great hall, they did so with the confidence of warriors who feared nothing, their leader walking first, his huge frame decorated with sea-creature bones, polished skull fragments, and old scars that spoke of countless victories earned across many worlds.
Your mate remained seated beside you on the elevated stone platform overlooking the hall below, his posture relaxed enough to appear respectful while still carrying the unmistakable dominance of a King within his own territory, and as expected, his hand rarely strayed far from where it rested protectively near you.
The Western leader noticed you immediately.
Of course, he did.
A human seated beside a King was impossible to ignore.
Still, unlike lesser warriors, he possessed enough wisdom not to allow surprise to turn into disrespect, and after studying you for a moment, he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement before addressing your mate directly.
“Your Queen is honoured greatly within your halls,” he observed.
“She is, as she should be,” your mate answered immediately before you even had the chance to speak.
“Yes,” he replied. “Of course.”
For a while, the gathering remained peaceful as stories of hunts echoed throughout the halls, trophies were examined and admired, and warriors traded tales of victories earned through blood and skill, while servants carried endless platters of food between the enormous stone tables.
You almost began to relax.
Almost.
Then two younger warriors ruined everything.
You noticed them long before your mate did, mostly because they lacked the discipline to hide their interest properly, their eyes staying on you too long while whispering between themselves with faces carrying familiar arrogance young hunters often mistook for confidence.
One finally spoke while passing near the elevated platform.
“A human carrying royal blood,” he remarked mockingly. “The King lowers himself.”
The entire hall fell silent instantly.
You felt the change in the atmosphere. It was like a blade pressing against exposed skin.
Your mate did not move immediately, which somehow felt more dangerous than if he had exploded into violence, because slow anger from him was always far worse than impulsive rage.
Very slowly, he turned his head toward the two warriors. The sheer weight of his attention caused several nearby hunters to lower their eyes.
“You speak boldly,” your mate said quietly.
The second warrior, foolish beyond reason, actually laughed.
“She is prey pretending to be queen.”
Your mate rose to his feet.
Every sound inside the great hall disappeared entirely.
You remained seated despite the quickening pulse in your chest while your mate descended the platform with calm steps, not rushing, not roaring, not losing control even for a moment, because this was not mindless fury.
This was judgement.
The western clan leader exhaled slowly through his mandibles, disappointment evident in the sound.
“The young die foolishly,” he muttered.
Only then did the two warriors seem to understand the magnitude of their mistake.
Far too late.
Your mate stopped directly in front of them, towering over both.
“You insult my mate,” he said.
Neither warrior answered.
“You insult my unborn child.”
Still silence, then his voice lowered further.
“You insult me.”
The first warrior attacked in panic. It was the worst decision he could have made.
Your mate caught the strike effortlessly before twisting hard enough to shatter the warrior’s arm completely, and the sound of bone breaking echoed throughout the silent hall only moments before his wrist blades drove cleanly through the warrior’s throat.
Blood sprayed across the floor.
The body collapsed instantly.
The second warrior barely had enough time to draw his weapon before your mate turned towards him, and though the younger hunter fought harder than the first, it changed absolutely nothing about the outcome.
You watched every moment
And strangely, rather than fear, all you felt was pride.
Because your mate did not fight wildly.
He fought with purpose.
With absolute certainty.
The final blow split the second warrior open across the chest, sending his lifeless body crashing heavily onto the blood-covered stone beside his companion.
Silence followed.
Your mate stood over the bodies, breathing slowly while neon blood dripped from his blades onto the floor. Then the western clan leader rose calmly from his seat.
“Their deaths are justified,” he declared for the entire hall to hear. “They disrespected the Queen.”
Agreement rumbled immediately throughout the gathered warriors.
None challenged it
None dared.
Only then did your mate finally turn back to you, and the moment his eyes found you again, the fury visibly lessened, as he returned immediately to your side, one large hand settling protectively against your stomach as though reassuring himself that both you and the child remained unharmed.
You looked up at him with a faint smile.
“That was excessive,” you murmured teasingly.
“They were warned.”
“You enjoyed that.”
“They insulted you.”
“Yes,” you said softly. “They did.”
---
By the following evening, the skulls of the two fallen warriors decorated your home.
Cleaned and mounted high along the stone walls overlooking the entrance, they served both as trophies and as warnings to anyone foolish enough to forget what happened to those who disrespected the Queen of the stronghold.
Deep within your chambers, the fire crackled warmly as you rested comfortably beside your mate, wrapped in heavy furs.
For the first time since the western clan’s arrival, he finally seemed fully at ease.
You leaned against his side while one of his large hands rested over your stomach, feeling the strong movements of the child moving underneath your skin every so often, and when the baby kicked particularly hard, your mate immediately looked down with interest.
Another movement followed beneath his palm.
A deep, pleased rumble echoed from his chest.
“He grows stronger already,” he murmured.
“He is going to be enormous,” you sighed dramatically.
“As he should be.”
Eventually, your eyes moved toward the mounted skulls decorating the walls.
“You know,” you said thoughtfully, “most husbands bring flowers.”
Your mate looked toward the trophies before looking back at you.
“They brought disrespect.”
“And you brought home their heads.”
“They are decorative.”
The seriousness in his voice made you laugh hard enough that your stomach tightened slightly, immediately causing his attention to snap back toward you.
“You are in pain?”
“No,” you managed between soft laughter. “I am fine.”
He continued watching you carefully for another moment before finally relaxing once more, after which he leaned down and rested his forehead gently against yours.
“My Queen,” he murmured.
You closed your eyes, smiling, while his hand remained protectively over both you and your unborn child,
You were surrounded by warmth, safety, and the guarantee that no force in the universe would ever be allowed to harm either of you while your King was alive.
sukuna stares at the child with a displeased look. the same one who is giggling at the curse as if he wasn’t glaring at them. a gummy smile, wide and wet. dad clearly judging by the look he was giving. saliva visibly dripped down the babies mouth as their father just watched. unimpressed and mildly annoyed.
but not at that. no.
the curse couldn’t fathom how something so small wasn’t at all afraid of who was in front of them. fours eyes, four arms, and another mouth on his stomach and this brat has the audacity to laugh. their little face lifting as they giggled and babbled as if dad wasn’t a walking entity.
and he assumes he was staring too hard because you came up from behind him.
“what are we looking at?”
your nose scrunches as you make a face, your child who was in sukuna’s arms— held out far in front of him— smiles wider. a squeal before they clap their hands. apparently pleased to see mom. “and why are you holding them like that?”
“they’re laughing.” he says it so dryly. the annoyance evident.
“and that’s an issue because…?” sukuna gives you a side glance. glare. not impressed by your answer as he continues to keep your baby at arms length. who doesn’t even seem at all fazed by dads handling.
he huffs and turns to you. four eyes staring. and your eyebrows raise in question. you knew what he was referring to. you weren’t blind. it wasn’t first time you’ve seen his true self and it won’t be the last. but you find it obviously amusing considering he’s scowling because your kid seems to think the same thing you do. he isn’t scary.
and when your lips press together tightly. you break. a smile appearing followed by a laugh.
Idk if you’ve done this yet but I need you to write explaining and showing to the twst cast what and how a tampon works. I love rereading the period drama that shit is so funny to me.
Why Does It Do That?
Yuu (OC) & First Years
A/N: Not just tampons got talked about and it wasn't all the guys, but I'm rather happy with what I put together!
“What are we doing again?” Jack asks the room, arms crossed and seeming to blink back from daydreaming.
Deuce shrugs, looking back at Epel's phone before speaking, “Ace was complaining to her that his stomach hurt during gym, then Yuu got all excited about something and just ran off. She'll explain when she comes back.”
“Probably.” Epel snorts, flicking to a new short on his phone.
Ortho hums, tilting his head and trying to pinpoint where she was in the house, “Well, she's still on Ramshackle property, at least. If her trajectored path is anything to go by, she's stopped at Brenda's room.”
Ace perks up, looking up from his own phone, “Ah! Maybe she went to get snacks from her world for us to try again.”
Jack, Deuce, and Sebek all pulled a face.
Ortho shakes his head, remembering the gift basket of odd-flavored snacks Yuu had given his brother recently as an apology for her continued bullying, “For health concerns, I think we shouldn't do that…”
“I don't know. That red velvet popcorn was kinda good.” Ace muttered.
Sebek immediately moved Ace's legs off of his lap, “You can't be near me-”
Yuu reentered the lounge as a whirlwind, plastic bag in hand as she rummaged around it. “I had a joke before I went to go grab stuff. Oh, Ace, your stomach hurts? What, are you on your period!?” Before any of them could respond, she slapped down a plastic-wrapped square.
…
Epel points at the square while Ace picks it up, “The fuck is that?”
“Weird-looking popcorn packet — why is it soft?”
Deuce snatches the square from Ace, eyes widening at the feel before seeing the small tape keeping it closed.
As it opened, Jack's ears folded back, frowning harshly, “It smells weird…”
“Prefect Yuu, is this a diaper?”
“Small ass diaper…”
“Shut up, it's not a diaper.” Yuu snickers behind her hand.
“What is it then?” Sebek questioned, grabbing the odd slab from Deuce.
“That's a pad. It's what I would have used for my period.”
Sebek all but screams, flinging the pad away from him like it was actually covered in blood.
Ace starts to laugh, pointing at Yuu, “You fucking wore a diaper!?”
“Better than the alternative in my book.”
“Oh yeah, because you were so cool crying and bleeding all over stuff.” He rolls his eyes at her.
She smiles, pulling another item from the grocery bag.
Jack raises an eyebrow, “What, you got lipstick too?”
“Why is it wrapped?” Deuce asks.
Yuu kept smiling, unwrapping and showing them the bright fuchsia device as if it were a lipstick. She pulled one side, a small click sounding in the room. Grabbing Sebek's drink, she pressed down like the object was a syringe. They all watch bewildered as a white cylinder dispenses from one end, each of them quickly yelling as the object absorbs nearly all of Sebek's drink.
“Hello!?”
“What — where'd it go!?”
“What in tarnation!?”
“MY JUICE!?”
“That's a tampon.” Yuu chirps.
Deuce points at the glass, eyes wide at seeing just how much it ballooned, “That goes inside of you!?”
“That's too big!” Jack flushes.
“Well.” Epel slightly shrugs. Nonchalance fading as he picks up the glass to look closer, “Wait, is it not done? How much does this lil sucker hold!?”
“Y'all impressed by the little weak regular strength. A super plus would floor you.”
“There are other sizes than this!?” Ortho snatches the glass from Epel, eyes taking measures of the size difference.
“There's other methods, Ortho.” Yuu's smile turns downright villainous, pulling out a small suction cup-looking item, “Behold: ‘The Cup of Diva's’.”
“What the fuck does that one do?”
“It catches the blood.”
“That seems…uncomfortable. What if you want to wear pants?” Jack shifted on the couch.
“You can wear whatever with this.”
“How? Wouldn't the cup like stick out — ...no.”
Sebek turns to Jack, “What?”
“Jack knows.” Yuu nods her head, nodding faster when Jack started to shake his.
“I don't want to know!”
Epel perks up, eyes wide as he points, “...Wait, that goes inside!?”
“What!?” Deuce stares at the cup, trying to figure out just how the bell-shaped cup comfortably fits inside.
“Stop. Putting shit in there!” Ace yelled, leaning further back into the couch.
“Feminine health! Feminine health!” Yuu cackles, reaching in and throwing wrapped tampons at the semi-horror-struck boys.
Ortho cried out, frowning as a tampon bounced off his forehead. “I just wanted to watch movies…”
2087
origamiaround
titsay
tangentwithtanner
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
