I also saw an IT person say that the whole “going dark” is actually to facilitate all the servers being changed to the Meta servers in America. I didn’t download that video before the pop up appearing unfortunately
I'm emailing people I know live in Florida to check in, but sound off if you're one of my followers there, and I don't have your number. If you don't have people to check in on you, I'll be your people.
Also pulled this from my Twitter. Reblog all around:
i'm AWARE this is a stupid hill to die on, but like. trope vs theme vs cliché vs motif vs archetype MATTERS. it matters to Me and i will die on this hill no matter how much others decide it's pointless. words mean things
trope: 1) the use of figurative language for artistic effect; includes allegories, analogies, hyperbole, & metaphors, among others. 2) commonly reoccurring literary devices, motifs, or clichés. Includes things like the medieval fantasy setting, the Dark Lord, enemies-to-lovers, and the Chosen One.
theme: the reoccurring idea or subject in a work of art. Death, life, rebirth, change, love, what it means to be human, the definition of family, the effects of war, etc.
cliché: an element of an artistic work that has been overused to the point of losing its original meaning or effect, even becoming annoying or irritating. (Most clichés are tropes but not all tropes are clichés.)
motif: a distinctive repeating feature or idea, such as the green light in The Great Gatsby. May overlap with tropes and is often used to further explore the theme.
archetype: a constantly-recurring symbol or motif; it refers to the recurrence of characters or ideas sharing similar traits throughout various, seemingly unrelated cases in classic storytelling. E.g. rags to riches, the wise old mentor. Again may overlap with tropes, clichés, and motifs, but they're not the exact same thing.
(Most Recent Update as of 7/18/22: Dead Links Removed)
This is essentially a list of other creators’ masterlists, mostly so I can find them myself without having to dig. If you are a monster writer, artist, or blogger and didn’t see yourself listed, or there’s a blog that should be on my masterlist and isn’t, please don’t hesitate to send me a message and/or reblog and tag me. I want to include all of you.
I have a zero tolerance policy for non-con, incest, bestiality, and pedophilia, so please keep that in mind.
— type “tangerine” or “tangerine x reader” or “tangerine headcanon” in my search to find asks that ive responded to — lots of random thoughts & hc’s
hotel room - changing plans midway through a mission in Tokyo- you, tangerine and lemon decide to stay in a hotel instead of taking the bullet train ★
home is where the heart is - you and tangerine have a free day, deciding that you want to spend the cold day at home doing cozy domestic activities ☾
“you’re more like me than you think” - tangerine hasn’t been completely honest with you and you find out something you were supposed to. already feeling frustrated with your relationship, you don’t take the news lightly ★✧
imagines/ headcanons ☾
date night - tangerine has been away on a mission for the last week and is back in time for date night. missing each other like crazy, you decide to have a not-so-quiet night at home ★
when the trains a-rocking don’t come a-knocking - taking a job in japan collecting a briefcase from a train sounds easy, right? but not when you meet a pair of brother assassins from your past ★
SUMMARY: Tangerine has been away on a mission for the last week, and is back in time for date night. Missing each other like crazy, you decide to have a not-so-quiet night at home
TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ only. some fluff and wit, lots and lots of smut, mutual masturbation, oral (m + f receiving) climax denial, p in v, unprotected sex, light praise kink, mentions of sub/dom relations, pet names, cursing, dirty talk, hair pulling, aftercare. established relationship.
minors DNI. no mentions of y/n
A/N: this is actually a repost, bc I think my other one is blocked- also I didn’t realise how many mistakes were in the original, oopsies
Sequencing My Hero Academia’s “Manga DNA”: A Breakdown of Katsuki Bakugo Part 2
Welcome to the Bakugo presentation 2.0 part 2!
Link to the Bakugo presentation 2.0 Part 1
Link to the Bakugo presentation 1.0: Part 1 | Part 2
Link to the Kirishima presentation
Link to the Todoroki presentation
Link to the Deku presentation coming eventually
Japan and Bullying
Bakugo implied Deku should jump off a roof. Fact. But “canceling” Bakugo over bullying Deku without acknowledging the series’ point that the motive for “evil” and pressures that inspire it are bigger than just one person is, well, reductive to the thesis of the story. It is also culturally naive.
This article from the Atlantic discusses Japan’s current education climate in a general sense through taking a look at Precarious Japan, but it also includes an interesting comment about bullying: “The notorious bullying in Japanese schools has actually been seen by many parents and teachers as a feature not a bug.”
Sequencing My Hero Academia’s “Manga DNA”: A Breakdown of Katsuki Bakugo
Welcome to the Bakugo presentation 2.0 now with added sections and revisions based on the feedback of the Bakugo survey! If you have not taken the survey but would like to do so, please have at it! Just make sure you read the disclaimer at the start as your answers may be posted on the @baku-fessionals blog.
Link to the Bakugo presentation 2.0 Part 2
Link to the Bakugo presentation 1.0: Part 1 | Part 2
Link to the Kirishima presentation
Link to the Todoroki presentation
Link to the Deku presentation coming eventually
What you are about to read is a combination of self-guided research and absorption from fan discussions and other fans who have taught me so much. @rironomind @pikahlua @greenhappyseed @the-nysh and so many others, thanks so much! Again!
Warning: This is over 140 slides long and spread across multiple posts. I’ve put the rest under the cut because I love you all dearly and wish to spare you. Beware of My Hero Academia manga spoilers and My Hero Academia Vigilantes spoilers! I’m (almost) current and dangerous.
◇ After five years together with Midoriya, you find yourself newly single and heartbroken. When he starts dating again, you shout a bold-faced lie to the universe that wraps you and Katsuki Bakugou together for better or worse. In order to save face, you need to work together with the grumpiest man on the planet.
◇ Verity (noun): The quality or state of being truthful or honest. Also your Hero Name to go along with your quirk of forcing others to tell the truth.
ProHero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader
(Brief Midoriya x Reader)
⤷ NOTE: it's finally here! ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧ i hope you all enjoy the first chapter of this series—i know i've enjoyed writing it. ♡ also, please consider leaving some feedback! i'd love to hear what you all thought so far.
« CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO (TBA) »
The first time you met Rengoku Kyojuro, it was a warm and sunny spring day, and you were in a positively foul mood.
You and your family had just left your home in the country in order to move in with your paternal grandmother in Komazawa, where the buildings were pressed close and the surrounding land was devoid of rice paddies. It was the single biggest change you'd ever experienced in your young life.
In a word, you hated it.
You already missed your old home—the one you grew up in, the one you'd known all your life. You missed your old friends and their familiarity. You missed the endless tracts of untouched land and the comfort that it brought.
It wasn't even that you particularly disliked your new home or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact: the three stories offered up an abundance of rooms, closets, and cupboards to explore. You'd barely scratched the surface in the two days you'd been there, too busy holing up in your room, serving out your self-imposed isolation—a way to express your immense displeasure at the situation.
However, that didn't stop you from voicing your displeasure, as well.
"Stop pouting," your mother instructed, slipping her feet into awaiting sandals, "or you'll give yourself frown lines."
You felt yourself frown harder. She had dressed you and your sister in your finest spring yukatas, the clothes freshly starched and itchy, which only served to sour your mood further. "I don't wanna go."
"The whole family must come," Hana informed you rather matter-of-factly. She kept readjusting her sash—nervous or uncomfortable, you couldn't be sure. "That way we can make a good first impression."
You'd never had to introduce yourself to your neighbours before—they'd always just been there—and you didn't want to start now.
"But Granny's not coming!"
"The Rengokus are already longtime associates of mine," your grandmother said. She regarded you with narrowed eyes. "They are a good family—a respectable sort—so I suggest you listen to your mother and behave yourself."
Her tone left no room for argument. Abashed, you shuffled to the genkan to put on your sandals. One of the straps had grown loose over time—your heavy footfalls no doubt to blame—and as you stepped into it, your foot rolled and you bumped into Hana. She hissed at you to knock it off, and you stuck your tongue out at her in response.
Your father stood by the door, quietly wiping his eyeglass lenses with a soft cloth, seemingly unaffected.
Earlier, you'd asked him if he knew the Rengoku family well, and were surprised when he told you he hardly knew them at all.
"But didn't you grow up here?" you asked.
He smiled good-naturedly, patting you on the head. "Yes, but Rengoku-san and I never really talked. I was always too busy studying, you see, and he stopped attending school after elementary."
This had been a point of confusion for you: while there were only a handful of other children in your old village, you all knew each other well, and played together often—even the ones you didn't particularly like.
Your grandmother spared you one last pointed look from the doorway as the four of you departed, a furoshiki-wrapped container of black sesame senbei cradled in your mother's arms—made fresh that morning by your mother and grandmother, then left to cool on a wire rack in the kitchen. (You had attempted to pilfer a cracker at one point, and received a swift whack to the hand with a wooden spoon for your efforts.)
To the left of your grandmother's house, separated by a boundary wall and several cherry blossom trees, was the Rengoku estate. Their house was shorter than your grandmother's—just one story—but what it lacked in height, it made up for in sheer width. To your young eyes, it seemed to stretch on forever in either direction, when in reality it didn't even reach the fence line.
Your father approached the front door and knocked on the wooden frame twice. Hana adjusted her sash again. You tried to ignore the way your collar began to chafe under the hot sun.
A few moments later, the door slid open and a beautiful woman stood at the entrance, her dark hair tied into a loose ponytail that spilled over one shoulder. The expression she wore was expectant but kind, and you briefly marvelled at the delicate femininity of her features. "Good afternoon," she said. "How can I help you?"
Your father bowed. "Sorry for the disturbance. My family and I have just moved in with my mother next door, and we wanted to formally introduce ourselves—" He gave the woman your names, then finished by saying he looked forward to being neighbours.
The woman graciously received the gift of homemade senbei from your mother, her pale hands stark against the dark blue furoshiki cloth. "Thank you. I am Rengoku Ruka," she said, dipping into a bow. "I'm afraid my husband, Rengoku Shinjuro, is away on business at the moment. I'd like to welcome you all to the neighbourhood on his behalf."
You had begun to fidget, feeling sweat pool in the creases of your elbows. The relative lightness of the yukata was stymied by the inherent stiffness of starched fabric, and thus offered you no relief.
The woman's eyes—red, like the petals of a spider lily—briefly landed on you and Hana. Then she turned back to the foyer and called out, "Kyojuro!"
The name had scarcely left her lips before a boy appeared at her side, a whirlwind of unruly yellow hair and large, almost unnerving eyes. You watched him, curious.
"Yes, mother!" he said—not so much a question as an exclamation.
She told the boy you were family members of the woman next door, come to live with her. The boy bowed and exuberantly proclaimed, "My name is Rengoku Kyojuro! It's a pleasure to meet you!"
He straightened, looked at you—and smiled.
Suddenly, your itchy yukata and the blazing sun were all but forgotten. Another, altogether different emotion emerged in its place: one you were old enough to recognise as significant, but too young to put a name to. Something foreign and familiar, exciting and terrifying—something that settled in your chest, heavy like a stone, waiting until such time as you were ready for it.
Hana's elbow dug into your side, bringing you back to yourself. The boy—Kyojuro—was still looking at you, his smile unwavering, and you realised he was waiting for your own introduction.
"N-Nice to meet you!" you told him, much too loud. "My name is…"
You waited for the name to come to you.
It didn't.
Everyone's eyes were on you. After a few moments of awkward silence in which you desperately tried to remember your own name, only to come up blank, your father finally uttered it—like a question—and you mumbled out, "Yes. That."
Eyes cast down and face burning with embarrassment, you half-heartedly listened to Hana introduce herself, resentment swirling in your gut. This was all your parent's fault, you told yourself.
When you glanced up and met Kyojuro's eye, his responding smile was reflexive, encouraging—a fact that somehow made everything worse. You decided, then, that he was also to blame, though you couldn't really explain why.
All you knew was that you never, ever wanted to see his dumb, stupid face and big bug eyes again.
A week passed. It was the tail end of April.
You were up in your and Hana's room, flipping through a book you'd found hidden away in one of the closets. You'd begun to let go of your ire, little by little, and started to explore more of your new home. While rifling through one of the second-story linen closets, you spotted the book wedged in a corner, and—captivated by the blood-red bindings and garish cover art—took it to Hana, asking what it was about.
You knew how to read some things (your name, your family's name, Emperor Taisho's name, etc.) but it would be another year before you began school and were able to learn in earnest. Hana had already attended elementary for a year by this point, and you figured she'd be as good of a person to ask as any.
"Where did you find this?" she sneered, holding the hardcover at a distance—as if it was liable to bite her.
"Closet," you said.
"If it was hidden in the closet, it likely wasn't meant to be found." She opened the front cover and leafed through a few pages, her expression growing even more distraught.
"Don't care," you told her. "Tell me what it says."
"So bossy," she grumbled. After flicking through a handful of pages, she snapped the book shut and handed it back. "It's a book about yokai."
"Yokai?"
"Spirits and demons." A chill went through her, as if just saying the word were too much.
You held the book with both hands, intrigued. The supernatural wasn't something your family talked about often, due in large part to your mother's intense fear of the subject—a fear she had apparently passed on to Hana. You, however, had no such fear, and in the following days, you spent many an hour hunched over the book, gazing at the often morbid illustrations. Hana refused to even look at it.
Presently, you were tracing the lines of one of your favourite drawings—a genial-looking old man in a kimono, squat and bald, with an elongated head and a grin that told you he knew something you didn't—with your finger.
A child's attention span was a fickle thing, though, and soon you were setting aside the book and approaching your bedroom window, looking for new stimulation.
The cherry blossom trees that lined the perimeter of the Rengoku estate, once bursting with pale pink blooms, had shed much of their weight over the previous week. What remained were leaner boughs of patchy green foliage, and it was with this change that you discovered your third-story bedroom had an almost unobstructed view into the Rengoku's backyard.
Kyojuro was easy to spot, his yellow hair like a signal flame against the ashen dirt. In his hands was a broom, and you watched as he swept cherry blossom petals from the centre of the yard, making neat little piles of them.
For a moment, it seemed as though you'd forgotten your desire to never see Rengoku Kyojuro again. But then the memory of how you'd made an absolute fool of yourself came creeping back, embarrassment hot. You still blamed him.
Turning quickly from the window, you returned to your book.
Three days passed.
Sunlight blanketed your bedroom floor, stretching up along the adjacent wall. It was midday. You were watching Hana fold a sheet of paper over on itself, carefully creasing it with the flat of her palm before folding it again.
You understood the basics of origami—understood it in the same way some children understood the rules of Go without being able to play it themselves, at least with any degree of success. You could follow your sister's or mother's directions—fold back here, fold over there—but the specifics of how a piece of paper could become a swan or a frog still eluded you.
It's why you much preferred watching Hana. You didn't have to worry about the "how"—you could just sit back and watch the process unfold, like a sort of magic, until Hana was placing a delicate paper butterfly onto the palms of your outstretched hands.
You held it up to a shaft of light, delighted, and the tips of its wings glowed gold. Hana seemed pleased by your reaction.
Suddenly, there was a sound from outside—a thunk. You and Hana exchanged a look before you both got up and walked to the window.
It was Kyojuro again, swinging around a wooden sword (a bokken, you'd later find out it was called). His back was to you, but you thought you could see him hitting something with it. A straw dummy, perhaps.
"What's he doing?" you asked, looking up at Hana.
She watched him, brow furrowed. "Training, I guess."
"Training for what?"
"How should I know?" She left the window, returning to her sheets of paper.
But you lingered there, fascinated by the fluid arc the bokken would make through the air. Transfixed by it, almost—like watching Hana fold origami. You sat yourself down in front of the window and watched him strike the straw man with practised, measured movements, over and over again, until you were eventually called away for something else.
You found yourself in front of that window often after that.
It wasn't all the time, and it wasn't for the entire duration—sometimes you'd only catch the tail end of his practice, other times you only saw the beginning. But you always knew when to expect him. Like clockwork, he'd be out there twice a day—morning and evening—and to date, he's never taken a day off.
"You're being a creep," your sister told you one evening.
It'd been a week since you first started watching Kyojuro's training sessions from your bedroom window. Amazing, really, since you usually lost interest in things by this point.
You said nothing—a feat—and after a few moments, Hana gave up and left. You were alone in the room once more.
A smaller, more self-aware part of yourself acknowledged that you were, perhaps, being creepy. But you ignored it, rationalising that you were just looking out your bedroom window, which in and of itself wasn't bad.
It wasn't wasn't like you'd only watch Kyojuro, either. His father, the elusive Shinjuro, had yet to make an appearance, but you saw his mother often enough. Sometimes she'd be hanging laundry out on the line, a small bundle held fast to her back in a sling. (You noticed a tuft of yellow hair sticking out, once, and figured it was Kyojuro's younger sibling.) Other times, you'd catch a sliver of her profile as she sat out on the verandah, a tea cup cradled in her hands.
You'd gotten comfortable, sitting up in your little third story window, far above everyone else's line of sight. No one had ever given any indication they could see you up there before, so you felt safe—thinking yourself invisible, even.
You were wrong.
It happened one day while Kyojuro was training with just the bokken, going through a series of swings and cuts you had grown familiar with. It was an especially hot day out, the sun beating down with a vengeance, and Kyojuro stopped at one point to wipe the sweat from his brow.
In your hand was an empty glass of what was once tea, now just a couple melting ice cubes. It was still cold to the touch, so you pressed it to your neck, sighing at the contact.
Just a little sigh, no louder than a passing breeze. Kyojuro dropped his arm and, to your absolute horror, turned his head to look directly at you.
You made eye contact. The glass in your hand slipped out, hitting your thigh before rolling along the floor, unscathed. Even from this distance, you could see the way Kyojuro's mouth pulled up into an amused smile, his eyes crinkling.
In two quick strides, you crossed the room to your closet door, ripped it open, then dove inside, slamming it shut behind you.
You could've died right then—sitting in the dark, choking on embarrassment and the scent of laundry powder—and it would've been a blessing. Instead, your sister came in an indiscriminate amount of time later (it was still light out, so probably not that long), opened the closet door to look for something, saw your face poking out from beneath a spare comforter, and screamed.
You never told her why you'd been hiding in the bedroom closet, but considering how you no longer sat in front of the window to watch Kyojuro train, it probably wasn't hard to guess.
A few days later, the early May heat gave way to a tumult of rain.
It fell from the sky in sheets and made the nearby rivers run over. Sequestered inside, you and Hana entertained yourselves by playing ohajiki and Shiritori, the latter of which you usually lost. It didn't take long for restlessness to set in, however, and soon enough you two were at each other's throats, bickering and fighting.
Everyone was grateful when, early morning on the fifth day, the rain clouds broke and you saw the first glimpses of blue sky beyond.
You ventured out in the afternoon to search for frogs. It was still damp and cool out, and you put on your sandals—your geta—to keep the hem of your yukata from getting muddy. You didn't ask Hana to come with you, and she didn't offer, the two of you grateful for some space to be apart. Though you doubted she would've come even if you had asked.
The ground outside gave slightly under your weight, but you didn't linger in one spot for long. You set off down the street, walking past buildings whose roofs still dripped with lingering rainwater and wooden buckets filled to the brim with runoff.
While you still kept an ear out for the tell-tale ribbit of any nearby frogs, you knew from experience that the prime frog-catching spots weren't in the residential areas. Down the road was a small bridge that crossed over a river, and it was there that you'd find them at the water's edge—close enough for you to reach down and grab them without getting muddy.
You heard the river before you saw it—a loud cacophony of rushing water. You stepped onto the bridge and peered over, watching it speed past, overfull with rain.
Somewhere beneath all the noise, you caught the faintest ribbit. It sounded close—the soft, muddy bank beneath the bridge, you thought. You climbed up to the second rung, the topmost part of the bridge at your waist, and bent down to see if you could spot it. The water was especially loud like this, the spray occasionally hitting your face.
It only took a second for you to spot the fat green blob that was your target, its body about the size of your clenched fist. You smiled, preparing to climb down when another noise caught your attention—wood on wood, someone stepping up onto the bridge at your left.
You glanced over, immediately spotting the absolute last person you wanted to see.
Rengoku Kyojuro stood at the end of the bridge, a bag slung across his chest, coming from the direction of town. The two of you held eye contact for a prolonged moment, neither saying anything. You felt your face heat at the memory of your last interaction, and you shifted your geta, just slightly, about to step down—
A snap, and the traction under your right foot gave way in an instant.
The world tilted, your precarious equilibrium thrown. The grip you had on the railing was tenuous at best—not enough to keep you upright—and your vision suddenly filled with the sight of rushing water.
It all happened so fast; you had no time to react in any meaningful way. But then there was a tug at the back of your yukata, your sash pulling tight, and everything stopped. Another tug, and you were being brought back over the bannister—one arm, then the other wrapping around your midsection to help ease you down.
You stood awkwardly, your right foot bare on the wood of the bridge while the other remained in your geta. You looked back over your shoulder, dumbfounded, at the boy whose arms were unwinding from your waist.
In that moment, the newly revealed sun was no match for the smile Kyojuro favoured you with.
"That was a close one! You should try to be more careful!" he said.
You blinked, looked down at where your other sandal lay on the bridge, on its side. The cloth strap you'd noticed was loose all that time ago was now torn in two.
Kyojuro, following your line of sight, stepped around you to pick it up. "A broken geta strap. How inauspicious!" he said, sounding entirely too chipper. "It'll have to be sewn back together."
Oh, no. Your mother was going to have a fit once she found out. Not only that—you'd also gone and made a fool of yourself in front of Kyojuro again.
He handed you the offending sandal, and your face screwed up with the effort not to cry. You murmured out a strained, wet thank you.
For a moment, Kyojuro just looked at you with those ridiculously big eyes of his, a contemplative tilt to his mouth. Then he broke out in another wide grin. "I can ask my mother! I'm sure she'd be able to mend it for you."
Before you got the chance to respond, Kyojuro turned and crouched in front of you, positioning his arms back like… like he was offering you a piggyback ride.
"Wha—! What're you doing!?" you squeaked, face aflame.
He glanced back at you, still smiling. "You don't want to get your yukata muddy, do you?"
You hesitated, clenching your broken sandal—incredulousness written into every line of your body. But, after a few moments of quiet consideration, the truth of his words finally overpowered your own embarrassment. You took off your other sandal and inched forward.
Kyojuro looked to be about Hana's age, and was therefore a few inches taller than you. But he was bent down far enough for you to tentatively wrap your arms around his neck, careful to keep the muddy bottoms of your geta pointed outwards.
Without warning, his hands came up to hook around your knees and you were effortlessly hoisted onto his back. You yelped, surprised, as your arms instinctively tightened around his neck—his short, two-toned hair tickling your nose. It was a little awkward, your yukata pulling tight across your thighs, but thankfully not riding up any higher. When Kyojuro's hands moved to link beneath your butt, he was careful to press them palm-to-palm.
"Okay!" he exclaimed. He sounded even louder this close up, if such a thing were possible.
Kyojuro's stride was unusually smooth; his steps hardly even jostled you. It almost felt like you were floating in a tub of water, weightless, rather than being carried on his back. The post-rain chill was still there, biting at your exposed calves and feet, but Kyojuro was a reservoir of warmth. It wasn't long until you were leaning into him, your eyes slipping shut.
"What were you doing?" he said, suddenly.
You shot up, nearly rocking yourself backwards, but Kyojuro's arms held fast. "E-Eh?"
"Back there," he explained, "on the bridge. What were you doing?"
Oh. "I was… looking for something. Frogs."
"You were trying to catch them?" There was no judgement in his tone—just a sort of mild curiosity.
You didn't consider yourself an especially prideful child. You did, however, take pride in certain things—namely, the things that you were good at.
"Mm-hm. Hana said I was the best frog-catcher." Your feet swung, just a bit, despite yourself. "I always know where they're hiding. And I'm quick! Hana usually chickens out, says she's too afraid to hurt 'em. But… she doesn't do that kinda thing with me anymore."
In years past, you'd find frogs hiding in the cool mud of rice paddies and run a finger down their back, over and over, until they grew soft and content. Then you'd gently place them in Hana's outstretched hands—not unlike she would, when she'd make you origami cranes and butterflies—and watch as she tenderly cupped the tranquil creatures, wonder alighting her eyes.
It was one of the many things Hana now considered herself too old for.
"I see!" is all Kyojuro said.
You were approaching the block of smaller, more closely-packed residential houses that preceded yours and Kyojuro's neighbourhood now. They were stacked on top of each other—like big wooden crates, you thought.
The silence stretched on, and you had already begun nodding off again when Kyojuro suddenly spoke. "While I'm not sure how good I'd be, if you ever wanted someone to go frog-catching with, I'd be happy to try my hand at it!"
His offer took you by surprise, and you felt your face heat with a different kind of embarrassment. "R-Really?"
"Of course! We're neighbours, after all!" His arms tightened, and he hitched you up higher on his back from where you'd apparently slipped a fraction.
Once on the front step, Kyojuro crouched low to let you slide off. You wobbled in place for a moment, still sleepy, and he waited until you steadied yourself before turning to enter the home.
The interior of the Rengoku residence, you realised, was similar to its exterior: expansive, and meticulously well-kept. The shoes in the genkan were all in a neat row, the wood floor polished to a near-reflective shine. Most of the walls were bare, save for some beautiful hanging scrolls of calligraphy and nature paintings. The shoji screens were impeccably white, like panes of spilled milk, and there wasn't a single spec of dust to be found.
Even as a young girl padding barefoot through their hallway for the first time, trailing after Kyojuro, you could appreciate the amount of work it must've taken to keep such a clean home.
Kyojuro turned into the first room on the left, the living room, and that's where you found Ruka. Sitting at a low table and reading from a magazine laid out across it, she looked just as disarmingly beautiful as the first time you'd met her. One hand marked the page while the other rested on the lip of a wooden cradle, softly rocking it side to side. It stilled when you entered, her Spider lily eyes immediately landing on you.
She said your name, a gentle smile curling her lips. "What a pleasant surprise. To what do we owe the honour of your visit today?"
You looked down at your geta—still clutched in your hands, still muddy. "One of my sandal straps broke. I was wondering if maybe… maybe you could…" you trailed off, embarrassed.
Thankfully, Ruka seemed to catch your meaning. "I see. Would you like me to take a look? Perhaps I could fix it for you."
At your enthusiastic nod, she turned to Kyojuro and said, "Could you take the sandals out back and wash the mud off?"
As the geta were taken from you, you felt the warmth of Kyojuro's hands passing over yours, the callouses from years of rigorous training. They disappeared just as quick, and then he was gone. Ruka stood, gesturing for you to sit at the table. "Please, have a seat. I'll go fetch my sewing kit."
You did as you were told, folding your legs up under you, your hands in your lap. After she left, it was just you alone in the room—you, and the cradle.
You'd seen glimpses of the younger Rengoku child before—just tufts of yellow hair, peeking out from inside bundles of cloth or tucked into their mother's arm—but never up close. They're looking up at you, where you sit adjacent to their cradle, with eyes just as big and unnerving as their older brother's.
There's an almost timid pinch to their brow—one you could never picture on Kyojuro. You regarded each other for a long moment, unblinking. And then, because you didn't know what else to do, you scrunched up your face into a silly, ugly expression.
At first, the baby gave no discernable reaction. But then you pushed the tip of your nose up with a finger—like a pig snout—and a tentative smile began to form on their face. When you squished your cheeks together and crossed your eyes, they gave a genuine grin. You received a bubbling laugh for your efforts after hooking your fingers into your mouth, pulling your lips wide, and it was at that moment that Ruka reentered the room.
You quickly folded your hands back in your lap, face heating. But Ruka only smiled, glancing down into the cradle where her baby still giggled.
"His name is Senjuro," she said. The baby—Senjuro—cooed. "He seems to like you," she added, eyes crinkling.
In her hands was a small lacquered box. She set it on the table, resuming her previous spot, and flicked it open. Inside was a two-compartment tray that held sewing needles, a cherry blossom-patterned pin cushion, a pair of snips, and some squares of thread in black, white, red, and orange. You briefly wondered how she'd be able to repair your dark purple geta strap before the sound of fast-approaching footsteps caught your attention.
Kyojuro appeared at the doorway, a determined look on his face, holding one of your sandals—now clean and dry—in each hand.
"Very good, Kyojuro," Ruka said, laughter edging her tone.
"Yes!" he responded, enthusiastic as ever. He carefully placed the geta in his mother's outstretched hands, and then—to your surprise—turned and walked right back out the room.
You felt panic rise in you, unbidden, but you were quick to tramp it down; you didn't need him to be in the same room as you to feel some sort of misplaced sense of security. You were a big girl, after all.
Ruka held your broken geta up, inspecting the frayed end of the strap. She was silent as she turned it this way and that. After a moment, she sat it down beside the other in her lap. She took the square of black thread from the box and set about threading it through one of the needles, her slender fingers working deftly.
Though the silence that followed was comfortable, you'd never been one to stay quiet for long, and soon found yourself asking, "How old is Senjuro-chan?"
"Six months," she replied, making another stitch.
You looked at the baby boy, now dozing peacefully in his cradle, his small hands balled into fists.
Not looking up from her work, Ruka asked, "You are the youngest in your family, correct?"
"That's right," you told her, nodding. "Hana's two years older than me."
"I see." Another stitch. The needle glided through the fabric, like a fish through water. "She's the same age as Kyojuro, as I recall. Which would make you…"
The question hung in the air—and you were all too happy to answer it.
"Five!" you proudly proclaimed.
Her smile widened. "Ah, yes. Five. A good age."
Kyojuro returned then, without his bag and carrying a tea tray with three cups. He set one in front of Ruka, then you, and finally himself, where he sat in the empty spot diagonal to yours.
You picked the cup up with both hands, careful not to burn yourself, and began to blow on it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kyojuro grinning at you, pleased. You looked away, face heating from more than just the steam. Weirdo.
A few minutes later, Ruka held your geta up, side-by-side, to compare her work. She smiled, satisfied, before handing them back to you. "There you are. Should be as good as new."
You were amazed. Had you not known exactly where the tear had been, you wouldn't have been able to find it—so closely sewn are the two edges that they appear nearly invisible. You ran a finger over the spot, feeling the subtlest of raised edges, before turning it over to check the underside. The fabric was pinched inward slightly, but you still couldn't see any hint of black thread.
"Wow…" you heard yourself say.
Ruka raised a hand to her mouth, looking suspiciously like she was hiding a laugh. "I'm glad I was able to be of help."
You realised, then, that you had yet to thank her. Face heating, you dipped into a bow, uttering a wholehearted thanks. As with the homemade senbei, she accepted your words graciously.
"Now then, your mother is probably wondering where you are," Ruka said to you. The disappointment must show on your face, because she followed up with, "You're more than welcome to come back again, if you like."
As you left, you bid one last goodbye to Ruka and "Senjuro-chan". Kyojuro walked you to the front door, his footfalls eerily silent on the hardwood floor—at least compared to your own.
He lingered by the genkan as you stepped down to put on your sandals. The right one, the one that had broken, fit a bit more snugly than the left. Other than that, it was just as Ruka had said: good as new. You twisted your foot back and forth, impressed, until you realised Kyojuro was still waiting for you. When you shyly cast your gaze upwards, you found him already looking, that unfaltering smile still in place.
A pang of guilt hit you, then. He was a strange kid, to be sure, but he'd been nothing but kind to you since you met him—never teasing you for your missteps, carrying you on his back so your yukata wouldn't get muddy. He even saved you from falling off a bridge.
It was with all this in mind that you finally faced him fully and bowed. "Thank you for everything!"
His laugh—full of warmth and light—filled the genkan, your heart soaring with it. "No need to thank me! I was happy to help!"
Sliding open the shoji door, you were just about to step out when a sudden, inexplicable urge came over you. You looked back, finding Kyojuro standing just as you left him. The afternoon sun poured through the open door, illuminating the small space. It bathed Kyojuro in golden hues, enveloped him—a familiar embrace—and made the amber of his eyes practically glow.
His smile seemed softer for it, and you hurriedly left—trying to ignore the stone in your chest, how it suddenly felt that much heavier.
Synopsis: Grueling training led you to this moment, standing in the middle of the forest sent to deal with a demon terrorising the area but it seems you've gotten more than you bargained for when the stripped Kizuki steps into the clearing.
Warning: blood, biting, some light body horror, smut, choking.
A/N : blame @kinjuutsu and @decayish for this one. wc 3260
Standing in the thick of the forest makes your hairs stand on end. Your ears perking at the sudden blanket of silence that smothers all the sound.
No birds, no hooves or clash of antlers against wood. No claws or screams of trapped prey.
Not even the rustle of the leaves over head.
It's animalistic, the instinct that you're fighting hard to ignore as it burns in your limbs. Scorching the soles of your feet and tugging at your chest. It's hardwired so deep in your DNA that you think you can hear your ancestors yelling through the veil just one word, in various tongues all meaning the same thing.
RUN
But you can't, sent here to purge this Earth of the evil, of the sinful things defying Death as they linger in the shroud of night, too unholy to see the light of day.
Clouds lazily float over the full moon, momentarily blocking out what little light filters through the canopy and by the time the dense vapor eclipsing the moon dissipates there is a shadow looming in the clearing across from you.
You should startle, your ancestors must be even louder now, more worried as you think you feel a tug at your silver starlight hirori. Yet still training for endlessly, tireless years proved the steady stance you had. The blankness to your face as you relax your muscles.
Telling yourself this was just another sparring match.
Amber eyes glow in the dark, kanji in his eyes as you fight the flinch in your spine as you read the unluckiest of numbers.
Three.
Upper three.
A slow steady intake of breath through your nose. Inflating your lungs with the force of your diaphragm, held at the apex of breath.
"A woman slayer?" His voice is velvet sin.
Sucking on your tongue harshly as you feel every inch of skin that his eyes rove over. Like having the evil eye pointed directly at you. Fingers gently ghosting over your very soul and you feel nauseated from his presence.
"Shame I don't fight women. Your spirit is….interesting." In an instant that weighted gaze is gone as the broad man with harsh lined tattoos begins to give you his back. The pink haired man choosing to ignore the sweet lull of your smell that makes his cock stir. He chalks up a discrepancy encouraged from Douma speaking of fertile women non stop.
His fucking mistake to give a tiger his back.
You're pouncing him faster than he can react, first form, Swift Nightshade, severing a part of his head but his vertebrae are too thick. Your amethyst blade is lodged, struggling you place your between his shoulder blades trying to force it free to no avail.
"Oh little moon flower." He sighs, his voice soft before it turns darker, clipped, "You're gonna regret that."
He grabs onto the blade and shoves it from his throat as if he were merely dusting off his shoulders, sending you flying. Bursting through the trunks of thick trees, hundreds of years of growing just to be snapped like a twig in the matter of seconds.
Before you can take in another breath he's on top of you, smile dripping with cruelty. Reminding you all too much like a cat with a mouse in their claws.
Toying as he does, tossing you again in the opposite direction and by the grace of muscle memory you land on your feet.
If you see an Upper Kizuki. Run.
But that command falls on deaf ears. Now that fear has melted, hot as it turns into molten rage. Rage you've worked so hard to control, the flames of it licking at your insides, tongue sharp and jagged as it rips away the sinew from bone.
Turning you into something anew.
A quick change in your stance and you're launching yourself at him again. Fifth form Might of Wolf's bane.
A visage of a giant wolf forms from the swift movements of your blade, slicing his arm clean off only for his fingers to flex a moment later, a new limb grown from his body.
"Pathetic. Your fighting spirit wavers between nothing and supreme territory, you have no control at all."
"Fuck off." You hiss, jumping backward as he advances. Combining two forms, Lily of the Valley and Swaying Foxglove.
Flowers break through the soil in the ground, creating a meadow so vast and thick that there isn't a place that Akaza cannot step without crushing the head of a flower.
"Cheap parlor tricks moonflower." He takes another step and a scent washes over him. Wrapping around him like a silken blanket as his eyes flutter with a sudden exhaustion.
It's weird how the feeling is how you smell. Like the courtyard in his home and just in the distance he thinks he can hear a rhythmic thump as water is dumped into a pool meant to reflect the sky. A mirror for the moon to dance in.
Who used to say that to him again?
Suddenly there is a searing pain in his chest, he looks down and sees you, looking up at him before you slice again, crossing over your original cut.
The wound takes a moment to heal as you retreat to a safe distance, barely felt on his compass as he looks down.
"Aaahh." He grunts and the sound reverberates in your chest, "You crossed my heart."
He touches two fingers to the wound as it heals, wetting them in blood before he licks it away.
"Guess I'll fight for real now." He changes his stance and with it the air about him. The flowers wilt at his feet before it spreads like a blight. Killing everything in its path including withering some of the pre existing trees.
You have to attack now, before the sound at his heart clears all the way up, you need to send the tip of your blade back through his heart in order to paralyze him long enough to cut his handsome head clean from his shoulders.
If it was even enough time with how thick his skin and vertebrae are.
Swinging your blade down, a breath almost fully activated he reaches out with ungodly speed.
Grabbing onto your blade and he has the audacity to yawn. As if he's bored, snapping your katana in his vice grip before he shoves you into the closest tree and shoves the deep amethyst blade right through your shoulder. Pinning you like a delicate insect for display.
Your smell is even more enticing now, the heady metallic tang coating his tongue making him dizzy. His cock stirs again and he rushes for the wound. Pressing his nose just above it and inhaling deeply as you lean your head away from him. He laps at the blood, like a mistreated dog in the summer months finally finding solace in a half dried puddle. His fangs elongate and for the first time he's tasting the blood of a woman. Growling as he huffs over your throat before taking a deep bite.
"Heh." You smirk beside him, "Ya like that?"
It's a growl before you're shoving his face deeper into your wound, letting out a gasped breath as you activate your final form. Wisteria Bloom.
The poison makes quick work as you feel the grip of him failing before the bitterant of the poison coats the back of his throat. It gives him an inkling of a feeling. Of a piece so long forgotten as it burns up the nape of his neck, spreading through synapses with each pounding thought of his head.
"Poison?" He spits onto your clothes, "You did that to them?"
You aren't sure who he's talking about but you'll take credit for killing some vile demon if the taunt meant giving you the upper hand. But before you can his pupils flicker in and out as if his body were combating your deadly, delicious blood on pure rage alone. His black fingers sink into the flesh of your ribs, slowly pushing through the tender meat between the bones.
"You killed them? Poisoned the well?" He growls and your yelp is high pitched. It causes him to slow, to quickly retract his fingers from your frame and dig into his own forearm. The four fingers separated in the middle as he digs two thick and deep wounds on his forearm. The only area that isn't banded in the twilight ink.
His head pounds, louder and louder is the call of a woman's voice just at the fringes in his mind. A soft thing drifting through the veil she toed so easily in life.
Enough. ᴉɾnʞɐH
His ears ring and the pressure on his body is more than any he's felt from his master before. The very master who now slithers into his head, speaking over what can barely be comprehended in his drunken state.
Enough Akaza. There is a finality to it that makes his stomach clench, You hate the weak.
Revitalized, the poison slows but his lust for you doesn't. He claims it is the affect of your blood but he's on you again without so much as a second thought. Running his tongue over your wounds, gently pressing his fingers on the weeping wounds he made in your ribs.
"Are you alright, Moon flower?" His voice is soft and you swallow thickly, it makes your stomach flutter. A gentle press of his lips to each wound on your left side awakens something in you that you wish not to speak aloud. It causes heat to collect and pool between your thighs, as it does his senses heighten.
Repeating the action on the other side. Dark fingers ripping away the buttons at your front, tearing away and yet keeping your haroi intact aside from your own sword holding you in place.
"D-dont." You try to squirm out of his touch, the cool night air causing your nipples to peak.
"Oh shy now are we?" He smiles up at you, mouth smeared with your blood, the moonlight plays tricks on your eyes and it almost looks as if he were flushed.
As if his eyes were flickering between blue and amber. Dark twilight making room for the stars and moon before they return to a golden shine of the rising sun.
You feel dizzy yourself, mostly from the blood loss of so you say as he brings his mouth to your breast. Pulling your pebbled nipple with his teeth gently before giving a harsh suck. A breathy shine escapes you and when he looks up you freeze. Like a bunny seen on the forest floor by the grinning fox in the brush.
It's well known how that will end.
Just like this as he rises back to his full height, looming over you with that look. His hands finding your sides, gently squeezing your ribs in his massive grip making you feel so small.
"Do it moonflower, use a breath to heal these." As if under a spell you speak so softly.
"Y-yarrow's touch." White lace flowers blossom over your ribs and throat, slowly healing wounds not being kept open. The demon slaps his hand onto your throat over his bite wound.
"Not this one, Princess." Sinful velvet again and you concentrate elsewhere. Soon they are healed, skin barely discolored and the only sign you were ever wounded at all is the lingering lines of blood that the demon leans over to lick. Thick tongue pressed flat against your smooth skin to take in your sweet nectar.
A shiver runs down your spine, cunt clenching embarrassingly and again he looks up. That predatorial look shining in his eyes. He wipes away the blood, your blood and comes closer to you. Pressing his lips to yours with such a softness, such a need it makes you whimper.
He groans, licking your lips that you part for him. Tongue swiping, swirling over yours and when he pulls away for just a moment the two of you share a silvery string of spit. He groans, coming back for more when he smells that insanely sweet smell again that clouds his mind before he finally realizes what it is. Hand sinking down your front, paste the dark fabric of your pants and panties cupping your heat for just a moment. Feeling the weight of you here and his harder than he's ever been before. Slowly his middle finger parts your folds and when he feels a wetness to you he shudders.
"So wet." He presses himself into you further, nose over your bloody throat, "I've hardly done anything to you Princess."
"Or maybe…maybe you like fighting as foreplay huh?" He bites you again and the moan you let out is loud, long. Makes your face and throat heat as he sucks. Letting your blood flood his mouth and he groans with each swallow. Pressing harsh sloppy circles to your clit, mouth at your ear.
"'S that why you're a demon slayer moonflower?" He teases, gently nipping at your ear, "Wanna be corrupted and fucked by a big bad demon?"
You can't speak, can hardly breathe as he hovers in your personal space. Drowns you out with his scent. Smelling faintly of salt. He grabs onto your throat, squeezing so tightly your eyes flutter.
"Answer me. Tell me how you want to beg for my fat cock." He palms himself before he lets you go, fingers still pressing on your clit as you quake beneath him. Your vision blacks out and you let out the most beautiful, constricted moan he's ever heard.
"Is that a yes, pretty flower?" He pulls it from you again and again and again until his fingers are so soaked in your juices it drips from his wrist.
"Pl-please." You're so dizzy. So overstimulated as he has you reeling again. He leans close, pulling away his fingers from your clit and shoving them roughly into your spasming pussy. Angling them back towards him, lucky he found your sponge spot right away.
"Akaza." He breathes into your ear, "Now moan my name and I'll fill this angel cunt."
"Akah...I- can't." You pant, trying to desperately grind against him but his free hand slams your hips into the tree, cracking it even.
"You can and you will." He bites your throat again, worsening the wound and lapping at the blood, he feels dizzy. So drunk off of the smell of you, "Say it."
It's obvious in his tone that he wants to fuck you as badly as you want him. Lust and nothing short of delirium riddle your mind and swell your tongue.
"Akazaaahhh." You pant, your head resting on his heavily, "Please fuck me."
Without thought his voice changes, soft, endearing, protecting and filled to the brim with want.
Need.
As if it were you who were denying him.
"As you wish, princess." He slides himself into you with ease. Right to the hilt and he stays still. Savoring the feeling of you fluttering around him as you adjust to his size.
"M-move, p-please." Your head is spinning and the wound in your shoulder and bite marks pound in time with your cunt. Sick with want and need, for this demon to fill you up with sticky white, "Akaza."
"Anything for you." He moves slowly, setting a deep rut that has your head hitting the trunk of the tree. The pleasure is unimaginable, cresting in you with each steady roll of his hips. You've been fucked before but no where near like this, it felt different.
Like devotion.
Like he needed you to know what you did to him, how you make his heart pound and the way he's moving you, the way his hands touch at your body as if you were something to be marveled had your brain twisted.
Love sits on your tongue when it shouldn't, especially as he gently grabs onto your chin with on big palm. Fingers and thumb causing divots in your cheeks with no real malice as he forces you to hold his gaze.
"So pretty. So fucking pretty." He rasps, eyes deepening into twilight blue, hair turning jet black and where his self inflicted wounds were now twin bands of black ink on both forearms.
"Akaza?" Your voice is soft and suddenly the image is gone and he's back to how he looked before. Tattoos elsewhere on his skin, on his throat and face. Eyes a golden color as upper three stare back at you. He comes closer, swallows your moans with a kiss. Its hungry, deep, as if he's finally come home.
"What is it, Princess?" He asks after he breaks the kiss, "What do you need, let ᴉɾnʞɐH, take care of you."
But whatever name he uses doesn't come out right, it sounds blurred and fuzzy and it makes his free hand grip at the back of his neck so hard he draws blood. Pushing his fingers in knuckle deep as if trying to rip a parasite from his spinal cord.
"N-need you." You pant, hands coming up to class at this back, "Need you to fill me."
His cock twitches at that and whatever was bothering him fizzles out at the back of his head. He chases his own high as you continue to squeeze him so tightly he sees stars. His pace lacks structure as he sloppily thrusts into you. Painting your walls with white hot ropes. He says something so low. Three words but you can only make out.
"Princess." Like it's a sacred word, a song to be sung to the gods in worship, a sound that he makes seem as if it's only for you.
Slowly he pulls out and when he is without you he suddenly feels enraged. Anguish, head throbbing with such an intensity he falls to his knees.
"Where are you? Moon flower?" He begins to claw at his face, lost in some sunbleached illusion, "Princess? Where the fuck are you?"
You think you see fat tears fall down his cheeks before they are followed by thick ribbons of crimson.
Panic devours you whole and in your own hazed mind you pull the sword from your shoulder, feeling his pain well in your stomach as you rush to him.
"I'm here. I'm right here." You coo, wrapping your arms around him as you bend over to cradle his head. Quickly he wraps his arms around your waist while he stays on his knees burying his head into your legs. He gasps, fangs elongated but like a spell the smell of you placates him before globs of blood land on his shoulder.
He looks up at you shocked, your knees turning to jelly causing you to fall but he rises to catch you before you hit the ground holding you tightly to him that your bones groan from the force. Passing out with a final breath.
"Akaza."
You were a liability, a fucking problem as he slowly comes back to his senses. Unsure how this scene unfurled before him. How he ended up whispering so softly that he loved you as he fell into his own sweet abyss as you encouraged him with the sweet sounds of your mewls.
He should let you die.
He should kill you.
He knows he should.
It would be easy to just crush you together in his grip as you lie limp in his strong arms.
But instead he grabs the blade of your sword and the hilt, pushing you closer to him as he jumps from the clearing in the forest.
May I request a NSFW one-shot with Akaza obsessing over a powerful female demon slayer he has come across? We all know he won't fight women but maybe he's been watching her and he's absolutely obsessed with the thought of turning her into a demon so they can fight alongside each other forever. NSFW with Akaza dominating fem reader please :)
hiiii, finally I finished writting. Thank you for being kind and patient with me <3 So, like I said, this got longer than expected, but I tried at it! Hope you enjoy it <3 ah, she is in pillar rank here, hope you don't mind it.
summary: You're a strong and skilled pillar who almost knocks the head off the upper moon 3, and as a result, he becomes immensely obsessed with your skills and… with you. And he won't settle down until you become a demon and make you his.
warnings: dub-con (be cautious), shameless smut, slight masochism, slight (really slight) mention of gore, cunningulus, kind of dry humping, cum in face, kind of blowjob, and more... (sorry for the lots of "howevers")
Of all the memories you had of your mother, the most significant of them – the one that would make you grow up as a cautious person in all aspects of life – were the warnings about the evil that lurked in dark corners and waited for the right moment to attack. She used to say this, always accompanied by one: “The night is made for evil to reveal its true essence.” You didn't know if she just wanted to scare you or it was because she was too protective and always put your safety above anything else.
You never knew, you were only five when she was brutally murdered in broad daylight, contrary to everything she wanted to teach you.
Even though you grew up trying to legitimize all her beliefs, the night became your favorite time after that fateful tragic event. The first night you spent alone and sleepless – away from the pitying eyes of people who cursed your mother's name in life – you discovered that the darkness wasn't as scary as your mother told you, because it was peaceful and calm. Also smelled of dewy earth that penetrated through the cracks in the wood of your house – a detail that you never noticed during your happy and sunny days – and the only sound that cut through the emptiness of the night were the frogs in the lakes, the crickets crouching in the grass from your garden and owls perched on trees in the distance. They were sounds of life continuing its course, not the screams of people's terror and the blood in the throat, choking your mother to death.
However, you kept all the care that an immature and helpless child was capable of having. Perhaps what guaranteed you to survive during all the following years, was your smartness and skills that were emerging as adversity cornered you and you needed to act to escape all of them; like grown men hunting you like you were an animal to throw you into some brothel in the Red Light District because, according to them, you were kind of cute, maybe you brought them some reward, which sounded a red alert in your subconscious reminding you of your mother telling you that as long as she lived, you'd never know what it was like to be in that Red Light District, because that was the place where all the evil things were concentrated. Panic seized, you felt everything around you slowly move and your field of vision became strange, it was as if you could see all the vital points of your pursuers and become invisible to them, making you manage to escape to the forest unnoticed.
Such a skill was only perfected when you learned to focus deeply, and after that, your survival went from being just a hope to something definitive. You could go back to dreaming of a better future, like you did when you were a child and could hide under your mother's wings.
However, even if you dreamed of a good world to live in, you still weren't able to achieve it. Lonely and always living in the forest or by the lakes, you could only hunt and swim. Sometimes, unconsciously, you tried to meet death. You'd immerse yourself in the water and hold your breath until you felt your lungs burn, but from doing that so many times, you acquired another skill: being able to concentrate on your breath and being able to hold it for several minutes. You also liked to throw things, usually rocks, into the lake. With these hobbies, without you knowing it yet, you were already heading towards your good future that you dreamed of and also a prestigious title within a corporation that would make your mother immensely proud.
❅
When the day came when you would be faced with evil incarnate in the form of an indistinguishable being who smelled fresh blood and had a gleam of murderous intent in his eyes, you couldn't lift a finger. Paralyzed with fear, you just closed your eyes in a failed attempt not to see the moment it'd attack you. Before saying goodbye to your dreamed future, you asked your mother to come and save you.
You were saved, not by your mother, though. The guttural scream of that being after the one of a blade tearing the flesh made you open your eyes, making you come across a shocking scene at the very least: the creature cursing as it crumbled into dust, slowly revealing the silhouette of a young woman wielding a sword .
“Are you hurt?” she asked as soon as it had completely vanished into thin air. You answered a barely audible 'no'.
“Why are you in this demon-infested forest alone? Where do you live?"
"Everywhere, I don't have a fixed place," you replied on automatic, still stunned.
She took your hand firmly but gently, and took you with her. However, you noticed that the scent of fresh blood had not passed, the murderous intent did, but the presence of the second demon was still so poignant that you felt your chest sink. The danger came from this demon, not the one killed by the girl. However, what intrigued you was that this demon didn't interfere, not at least at the time of the other's death, he simply snuck into a dark corner and waited for the other to die before turning around and leaving.
You didn't understand why he intended to murder that demon that was trying to get you. Maybe you should be grateful, but you just couldn't, not when his eyes gleamed with the same evil as the eyes of the man who killed your mother did.
You wished you never saw him again.
But you should have known that life wasn't so kind to you and would never give you that wish.
❅
"For someone who had a haughty posture and oozed arrogance, you look like a frightened kitten now," you said as the blade of your sword scraped the neck of the demon trying to defend himself from your offensive.
“I just wanted to know why those fucking Demon Slayers Corps sent a female pillar to this shitty weakling rescue,” he snapped to himself, using martial arts moves to try to get you to drop the sword.
“What do you have against women, demon?”
“…”
"Reply!" You were angry with him. Was he underestimating you? Why didn't he try to attack you and just dodge your blows?
The kanji in his eyes said he was 3rd in the rank of the 12 moons, meaning he was strong for a fucking lord, so what was the problem with him?
“Look, the sun is about to rise and I'm getting pissed off, so get that fucking sword off my neck. I don’t want to have to hurt you, pillar!” he was looking at you aggressively as you ran at full speed to try to cut his neck again.
Your one-sided fight was making you physically weaker, and although he showed no sign of exhaustion, you could tell from his blood flow that he was getting more tense as the minutes wore on. He was afraid of the sun and not of you.
Damn bastard. You'd make him regret having underestimated you.
But you didn't have time. He finally used an attacking blow against you, knocking you into a tree trunk. You gasped in pain, but you didn't have time to think straight as he was soon cornering you with his own body.
"Let me go!"
"I told you to back out of this fight, but you insisted and it really pissed me off," he spoke dangerously close to your face. His strong arms sported bulging veins, and his bared fangs looked like they were about to rip your flesh apart. You felt a shiver run through your entire body.
However, looking into his eyes, you didn't see that same intention. It wasn't murderous intent, it was just… desperation.
And you hesitated. He noticed your hesitation and took the opportunity to make you drop your sword on the ground.
In a fraction of a second, he walked away from you far enough away that you wouldn't attack him again. He was much faster than you.
“As a reward for this pointless battle, I must commend your skills. You really managed to make me worried, so I apologize for underestimating you at first. Although I don't have much time to ask your name, I ask you not to worry because the next time we meet, I will make you mine and we'll be companions in battle and we'll fight side by side forever.” And without saying anything else, he disappeared into the forest.
“Huh?”
❅
After the confrontation with the upper three, you started to feel watched. Everywhere you went the feeling of stares piercing your back became more and more intense. You even thought about the possibility of only training during the day.
It was too irritating for you to do things while you felt your every move being watched. If you were meditating on a rock, you weren't concentrating on your breath to get into a deep state of relaxation. If you went into the water to swim, you feared looking up to the surface and seeing those demonic eyes smirking at you, hoping you would drown. And if you wielded the sword, you always thought about the possibility of throwing it at a target in the woods and it would suddenly disappear, leaving you totally unarmed.
But most irritating of all, was the feeling of euphoria that having someone stalking you brought you. You knew exactly who was watching you. And you could no longer tell yourself that you just kept training at night, in the same place, purely because you liked the peace that this time brought. Because peace didn't exist anymore and you knew the reason was that you liked being watched by that demon.
It was no longer possible to strangle all the attraction you felt for him. The stupid words reverberated through your mind for days, leaving you angry, frustrated, and… aroused.
“I will make you mine.”
What the fuck did he mean by that? And why did you feel your heart racing every time you remembered him telling you that? And why did he get more and more attractive each time?
You were going crazy. Not just because you were attracted to evil, but because you liked the feeling it brought. Because boredom no longer existed in your life, only the feeling that you were really going crazy for wanting to have more of that feeling. And by that inconsequential desire, your actions were being guided and made you undress completely to enter the lake and with the little sense in your head, you closed your eyes before sliding your hand between your legs, and under moonlight and the demon's insistent watch, you touched yourself to orgasm.
❅
Regret came as soon as you sank into the hot tub. The warm water made you rethink your actions, but you knew it was too late. You saw your stalker really enjoyed the private spectacle you gave him, but he held back enough not to reveal himself.
Now, about the shelter of your home, you could understand the madness that was all, but you couldn't do anything else.
Despite your fear, you returned there the next night. You were hoping he'd appear to you at last – this time, you'd definitely rip his head off.
But, the demon that appeared wasn't him. It was an inferior, who pursued a man.
Too stunned, you didn't pick up the sword the moment you looked into that man's face.
Many years ago, when you were still a child, you saw that same face staring at your mother's dying body on the floor after he had thrust a dagger into her throat.
With your body all tense, you didn't stop the demon's attack.
"Help me..." the man asked you desperately. “I recognize your face… you grew up well… you are as beautiful as your mother…”
You felt anger to see him talking about your mother. He had taken her life and thrown you into the world to your own devices, while he lived his life normally after letting you die too many times to live. For that reason you were not moved by his screams as he was devoured by the demon, nor did you do your work until not a hair of your mother's murderer remained.
The moment your sword blade separated the demon's head from the body, you realized that your life was dedicated to seeing justice done.
And there was nothing left. Boredom would surely take over and your will to fight would have evaporated.
If it weren't for the existence of that demon that watched you in the dark.
In the days that followed, you still felt his presence. But unlike before, you just spent the whole time lying on the ground, not having the energy to train or go hunting demons. In fact, nothing else made sense. What kept you standing no longer existed, you felt empty. But the reason you came back to that place was still lurking in the woods, watching your every move, and that too was starting to irritate you.
Was he really a coward for only watching you from afar? Did he know you were willing to rip his head off? Well, you hoped so, because it was time to make evil appear.
With sword in hand, you raised the blade upwards, towards the sky, and with your total concentration, you calculated the exact distance from where you were and where he was hiding. Focusing your strength on your arm, you turned your wrist to the left and threw your sword, which cut through the wind at full speed until it hit a tree trunk, millimeters away from the demon's neck.
And the silence was broken by a giggle that turned into a loud laugh.
And finally, he came out of hiding, appearing to you.
“Ara, I missed the target”
"No. You hit the exact spot you calculated,” he replied with a smile lining his lips. His eyes looked brighter than usual.
“So, my mother was always right in saying that evil lurks in the dark to stalk its victim before attacking,” you said with false surprise in your voice.
"In fact, even more so when the victim serves the best entertainment. But, I don't remember attacking."
You wondered what entertainment he was referring to, but you chose to remain ignorant.
You looked at the tree trunk where your sword was stuck and calculated a route to get to it without being noticed by the demon, however, he seemed much smarter than you now.
“Do you want to take your sword and try to cut my neck like that fight we had? I feel like I'm afraid I have to thwart your plans now,” he said, approaching you dangerously.
Before you felt cornered, you dodged him and managed to grab the sword, and with it in hand, you pointed it at him.
"And I feel like you're going to need more than defensive attacks, because today I won't hesitate to turn you to dust, demon."
“You can call me Akaza.” He widened his smile. "But before you try to rip my head off, tell me your name too."
"It won't be necessary, you won't even have time to memorize it."
And then your body moved against his, which, as expected, only dodged the blow. But, you noticed that he didn't keep his distance, on the contrary, he seemed inclined to stay close to you.
"Looks like you're braver today..." you made the remark as you saw him leaning sideways, back and forth, from the blade.
“I just studied my opponent too much and discovered her weak point. Today I'll fulfill my promise.”
And you felt your body tense and your hands start to sweat. Shit, you had to learn not to fall into his traps and with sweaty hands it would be hard to keep your sword steady.
“Are you bluffing?” you asked, not showing apprehension.
"Why would I be? You know, it's been several weeks hiding behind trees or bushes reading your every move, seeing every demon you've killed and memorizing your techniques. You are quite skilled, pillar, and it really turned me on.” And he dodged to the left of your sword that cut accurately through the void. Now he was really close to you. "Oh, I saw something really interesting too... as well as being skillful and powerful, you're also capable of being a fucking tease." And by his sly smile along with a not-so-discreet look at your body, you knew exactly what he was referring to.
“Shut up,” you huffed, stepping back as he took steps forward.
"Why? Was it not for me that you did that?”
"No."
"No? So why did you look at the exact spot I was hiding and smile?”
He was getting closer and closer to you, leaving you disconcerted to feel his warm body so close to yours.
“Tsk. Shut up and let me cut your head off already,” you snapped, swinging your sword in the air to place it at his neck.
“You're not even giving your all in this fight. It's kind of frustrating to know that you're not using your truly powerful abilities. You Just look like a rookie demon slayer.” With a sigh, he rushed to your side and finally cornered you in a tree. “Now we are in the same position as we were at that time. It's your last chance,” he warned, looking you straight in the eye.
With no escape, your nerves on edge, your heart pounding in your pulse, you brought the sword to the side of his neck, placing the blade there.
But your vision only focused on his defiant eyes that didn't let go of yours. And before you could make another move, you felt your left knee bent in the blink of an eye and your body was thrown to the ground, causing your sword to fall away from you.
“What the fuck are you doing?” You asked as soon as you felt his body land on yours, trapping you there.
“You know, I wonder why you're so distracted. Was it after you let that human be eaten alive that you lost all your will to fight?” Now he was holding both of your hands above your head. And you saw him lean towards you, afraid he was going to kiss you, you turned your face to the side before you felt his lips sticking to your ear. “Or is it because your strength only works over long distances? You're afraid of hand-to-hand combat because you don't have enough physical strength to deal with a demon of my rank." He didn't ask, he just pointed out.
You swallowed hard and tried to wriggle out of his grip, but you knew it was useless and he was completely right.
You fell right into his trap. He never revealed his demonic techniques, only used self-defense techniques, preventing you from knowing how he fought seriously and along with his studies of your skills, he left you at an almost cowardly disadvantage.
“Get off of me.” You struggled under his body, unintentionally, spreading causing him to fit between them.
And the result of that was already starting to grow inside his pants.
"Why? It's so much better to see your face up close like this and feel your warm body under mine." He laughed and it made you feel your face burn.
“Stop being cheeky!”
"Sorry, but it's impossible for me not to be while I'm between your legs."
You tried to push his body with your own, causing more friction between you and making you feel his erection.
"Yeah, keep doing this to get me off you." He licked his lip and weighed more against yours, making you groan in annoyance. “And moans more often like that too.”
You were silent and still.
"Are you a virgin?" he asked out of nowhere, making you stare at him dumbfounded.
"Why do you want to know that?!"
“I need to know if I'm going to need to be careful when I fuck you,” he replied like it was no big deal.
"Are you crazy?"
"A little. But so, are you a virgin or not?”
“I refuse to answer that!”
“Just answer yes or no, what a bore,” he sighed wearily.
"You won't need this information because nothing like you want will happen!"
And you started to shake again to get him off you, but you no longer had the strength to get rid of him, and your body reacted against your will.
Though that frantic friction of his bulge against your covered crotch warmed you from the inside out and filled your mind with the most reckless and sinful thoughts, you feared. You were afraid; no, you were terrified. Seeing that you wouldn't do what he asked, he himself started moving on you, generating all this tension in your subconscious. The first time he pinned you against the trunk of that tree there wasn't a glint of malice in his eyes, it was just desperation to flee death, but now it was different. His heavy body moved over yours, your intimacies locked together, his breath ragged, it was the prelude to what would come next. And you feared that it would really happen regardless of your will.
However, what paralyzed you was the feeling you repressed surfacing with each passing second. You intended to give him everything he wanted.
You already felt your juices leaking without discretion from your folds and the moans of pleasure were shamefully made up by those of discomfort. That was how you tried to deal with the forbidden attraction you felt for the darkness that surrounded that demon's existence.
"Why are you acting like a prude now? Are you that hard to catch? I know you want it as much as I do. I've seen how much you want it and you knew I was seeing it," he said with his lips a few millimeters away from yours, you were able to feel his breath. And he yours.
"Get the fuck off of me," you spoke in a thin voice, trying to break free from his grip, but with the heave of your body, the friction between you increased and your uniform rose, leaving your thighs beautifully exposed.
"You won't be able to get rid of me, you know that. You're skillful wielding a sword, but without it, you're just a frail human fighting the inhuman strength of a demon," he said, showing his sharp fangs in a malicious smile. "You don't really want me or are you just afraid of enjoying being fucked really good by a being you have an obligation to kill?"
You turned your face to the side, and your field of vision was taken over by the bush in which he was hiding to watch you. And in your mind all the memories of that damn time when you undressed before his eyes and touched yourself to orgasm. And that's what he was talking about.
"I didn't say you could look the other way, pillar. You don't even know how to be honest with your own feelings and you want to rid the world of our evil?" He teased you as he slid the tip of his nose down your neck until he almost reached the valley between your breasts. From the way he breathed in, you knew he was smelling you and it chilled you and made you involuntarily spread your legs wider and let him fit even more between your thighs. Consequently, you felt his erection better against your intimacy.
And he sighed and cursed.
Your wrists were already burning from the grip of his hands, and you'd already given up trying to free them, because the more you pulled on your arms, the harder he squeezed and it hurt like hell.
"Why are you so interested in me?" Perhaps, in your naivety, one conversation would be enough to bring him back to consciousness and then set you free.
"Because you're strong. And..." he lifted his own torso, still keeping your wrists firmly against the cold floor with his hands, to look down at your body, as if sizing you up, "...fucking hot. " And he licked his lips as his gaze shifted to your spread legs, one on either side of his waist. "I'm going to be good for you. I really don't want to hurt you," he said as he went back to laying his torso against your chest. He was heavy and almost made you gasp with all that pressure on your weak human body.
'I'll be good for you.' Those words reverberated in your mind making you wonder what he was talking about. You weren't a virgin, but you didn't know much about sex because your dead husband only cared about his own pleasure. And the sex were so fast that you felt almost nothing but the uncomfortable burning inside you, but with this demon, who carried the blame for many tears and innocent deaths on his back, everything seemed so intense that it suffocated you. The way he looked at you, touched you and even persuaded you was fuel for dirty thoughts to occupy your mind and an almost suffocating pleasure to intoxicate your senses. He hadn't done anything that significant, but just feeling him so hard with lust was enough to make you feel good… unintentionally, he was already being good to you.
And before you could do anything stupid, you tried one more time to get rid of him. With a force that you had taken from your common sense, you managed to escape through the sides of his body, still with your wrists tied to the ground, you twisted your body and with your knee bent, you hit a knee in his stomach, which only closed the eyes and made a pained expression.
"Do you still have strength? How strong can you be, pillar?" he broke into a satisfied smile once the kick wore off. "And say your name, I don't like to call strong people 'pillar', you deserve to be addressed by name," he said with a certain regret in his voice.
"It doesn't matter what my name is, just let me go!" you were already panting with anger and exhaustion.
"I won't let you go until you've spelled out why you teased me like that."
Deftly, he trapped your leg between his thighs, mobilizing you almost completely. Dammit, why did he have to be so strong?
"Who said I intended to tease you, you deluded demon?" lucky for you, your voice came out aggressive enough to mask the lie.
"It wasn't? Then why did you smile at me after you came?" He arched his brow and released one of his hands from your wrists to massage your exposed thigh. And you froze from the touch of the callused hand on your sensitive skin. "For a woman who deny to death that she want to fuck me, you get goosebumps too easily..." he said provocatively, running his finger over your skin until he reached almost between your legs.
The position you were in was uncomfortable and it was hurting you. With half of your body lying on the floor and the other half twisted – with your thigh trapped between his legs – you could already feel your spine burning and it was starting to really freak you out.
"Let me go... it hurts..." you complained with a whimpering voice.
He looked right at you, taking in every feature of your face.
"I only let go if you let me touch you or touch me," he said at last.
You shivered, took a deep breath, smelling the earth beneath you, and exhaled with the same intensity.
"You really aren't going to leave me, are you?" you were already dismayed.
"No," he smiled and squeezed your thigh.
"I let you touch me..." you said so quietly you thought he hadn't heard you. Deep down you hoped he had.
But you wouldn't admit that you wanted him to pleasure you.
Akaza's eyes gleamed and he felt his cock tug inside his pants in anticipation.
"Once I let you go, you can't go back," he said menacingly, looking you straight in the eye.
"I will not." You bit your bottom lip in apprehension.
He kept his gaze fixed on yours and then let go of your hands. You felt the place numb and knew that it'd take some time for the blood to circulate normally again.
Without you realizing it, you were under his body again. His arms gripping your thighs tightly and forcing them to encircle his waist, you just let him do what he intended. The palms of his hands against the bare skin of your legs sent a wave of pleasure deep inside you and the way he moved his hips against yours, simulating penetration, making your sexes rub with agony against each other made you move your own hips to keep pace with him.
He was silent. Observer. Looking at you from above, you followed his gaze as he scoured every part of your body. You weren't able to see him clearly, but your heightened senses told you how much he planned to make you beg him. His frustration was so much that he wouldn't be satisfied with just touching you, he wanted so much more than you were willing to offer, and that was too dangerous.
But also stimulating. You felt like you were going crazy along with him, because his every move was a trigger in you, killing your common sense.
He finally stopped moving over you but went to start undressing you. You broke into a cold sweat, but you could no longer try to stop it. So you used all your energy to massage your still aching wrists as you felt his fingers nimbly unbuttoning each button on your uniform. The night wind made your skin tingle and your exposed nipples ache, but soon his lips welcomed one of them into his warm mouth and another by his hand that was squeezing your breast, making you gasp.
"You said you were only going to touch me..." you argued softly, breathing in and out, making your chest rise and fall and your breasts even more in contact with his tongue and palm.
He ignored you and continued to pay attention to your breasts, sometimes sucking hard, sometimes pinching your nipples or simply sucking the skin around them to leave marks there.
When he played with your breasts enough, he released one of them with an audible 'pop' and kissed down your belly until he reached where the uniform still covered. Quickly, he undid all the buttons and left you only in your underwear. He didn't take it off right away, he just held your thighs and made you stand with your legs bent, wide apart. He took one look at you in that position, although his face was serious, his eyes betrayed how much he was enjoying that image.
And then he made the same path of his lips, but with his fingers until he reached your entrance, under the fabric.
"Did you really dare say no to me while you were wet like this?"
His eyes locked with yours, dangerously bright. Leaning his torso and with his face close there, he finally took off your panties and ran the tip of his tongue along the entire length of your dripping entrance. You saw the moment he clenched his jaw and forced air into his lungs, he looked like he had just experienced the best thing in the world. He didn't say anything, and slightly turned his face to the side, and kissed the inside of one of your thighs before taking a painful bite there, which made you scream and grab his hair. You felt a teasing giggle coming from him at the breeze that had escaped his nostrils.
Damn demon.
And without warning, he returned his attention to your pussy, where he gave a generous lick there, stopping at your clit, trapping it between his lips and sucking carelessly, making you shudder and cringe and your hands fly to his hair, pulling them hard.
He didn't seem very patient in stimulating you with his lips, he looked hungry. It was as if by sucking you he regained all your strength and that only made you roll your eyes and get restless in the place where you were lying. Your hands didn't know where they were, sometimes in his hair and sometimes closing against the ground, picking up some grass and dirt.
"I'm close..." you moaned desperately, trying to get rid of him, but he hugged your waist and kept you there, penetrating you with his tongue or sucking your clit until you came noisily, while scratching his shoulders with force.
When he finally let go of your waist and took his face between your legs, you weren't thinking straight. You could feel the sweat running down the sides of your forehead, neck and in the creases of your knees, while your body was still shaking.
“I'd spend eternity eating that delicious cunt,” he said, while he ran his fingers over his lips, wet from your fluids.
Not caring if you were panting, he pressed his mouth to yours. His lips molded perfectly to yours and his tongue explored every corner of your mouth, making you feel your own taste. In contrast to the painful grip of his hands on your thighs, which he'd returned to forcefully entwined around his waist, the kiss was gentle. Affectionate even. And, little by little, all your barriers being totally broken down, you started to respond. First it was a longer sigh of satisfaction as you touched your own tongue to his and then a shy groan as you felt his teeth catch on your lip and bite down carelessly, drawing a complaint from you. But you didn't pay as much attention to the pain it caused, as there were so many sensations he was arousing in you that the task of staying neutral under his touches became increasingly difficult. He had watched you long enough to read even what was hidden in you.
When he ended the kiss, he stood up and looked at you for a few moments before starting to undress too. You felt the shame take over you, but you didn't look away when his dick popped out of his pants, big and thick, making you afraid of when it was inside you.
"Keep your legs wide apart like this," he ordered. You felt the shame take over you, but seeing him looking at you with such desire, while his hand made quick and short movements on his own dick, which shone with pre-cum, your horniness also increased and disinhibited all your shyness, making you show off for him. He ran his tongue over his lip as he looked directly at your pulsing pussy and the sounds of him stroking himself were an addition to set you on fire inside.
He was too attractive. Almost ethereal. And seeing him in all his glory made you sick with the desire to have him inside you, to feel his dick tearing you apart. You were so needy that you felt like getting down on your knees to beg him.
But now he was the one who wanted to tease you. He was using only the tips of his fingers on his cock, working his way along the veiny length until he reached the dripping tip, where he held it with his index finger and thumb and cupped it in the palm of his hand, making circular motions.
"You like what you're seeing, don't you?" the voice loaded with malice and vanity made you sigh. "You're so craving my cock that it takes no effort to spread those legs and show that wet, delicious pussy to me." And a few more movements later, he returned to the starting position, on top of your body.
He didn't lie fully on top of you, he kept his torso slightly raised, allowing you to see his hard and heavy cock almost touching your entrance, making you anxious to finally have him inside you.
But he wanted to torture you some more.
He slid lazily over your body, only for his cock to temptingly graze your pussy, making you whimper.
"So needy... Now I get it... is that what you were afraid of? Did you deny it because you didn't want me to know you were a cockslut?" His face was millimeters from yours, and he ran his mouth over yours, licking your bottom lip. "A lovely liar, I would say."
You welcomed his tongue into your mouth as he forced it against your lips. The kiss was now greedy and you no longer felt your own taste on his tongue every time it touched yours. It was soft and agile, sometimes it curled up on yours and then escaped to walk all over your lips and when their mouths parted, he kissed your chin and went towards your neck and you only knew how to mutter disconnected words every jolt your body gave every time you felt the tip of his cock grazing your clitoris. Until you felt him heavily on you, resting one of his hands on your shoulder but realized that it was just for him to hold his cock to finally rub twice over your clit that ached with agony for attention. You gasped and screamed in pain when you felt him bite your neck at the same time he was slapping his cock three times over your entrance and with just one thrust, he sank himself inside you and growling along with you.
"So fucking warm, sweetheart. You feel so good squeezing my cock," he practically growled in your ear.
You moaned at the burning sensation his cock caused as he entered you, and you hadn't even told him if you were a virgin or not. "Oh, I actually forgot to ask you again if you were a virgin, my bad," as if he'd read your thoughts, he said, stopping to move.
“I'm not…” you replied greedily.
"Excellent. Tell me, how many men have you had sex with?” He slowly thrust himself back into you, going deep into you as he ran his hands down your thighs.
"What?! What makes you think I've had sex with more than one man?” You were truly offended. "I was married!"
He took a good look at your face and ran his tongue over his own lip.
“What happened to your husband?” And he slid his hands around your waist, lifting your torso a little so he could hold your breasts.
“Don't you think this is a bad time to talk about these thing- oh, fuck, yes…” You rolled your eyes as you felt him thrust hard into a very sensitive spot in you.
“Indeed, but it doesn't matter anyway, I'm the one fucking that pussy right now,” he said smiling, taking your nipples and twisting them between his fingers, making you gasp.
“You should know when to shut up,” you snapped on a gasp, feeling him withdraw from you.
He released one of your breasts to hold his own cock and rub it on your clit. With the friction of the tip wet by pre-cum and your wetness, you felt your body heat up. And before you could even feel the orgasm, he'd slammed back into you in one strong thrust, making you jerk and moan loudly.
After a few more thrusts, he came out of you again.
"Let's change positions, I want to see you riding me," he said, already taking you around the waist and sitting down and making you sit on his lap.
In that position, you wouldn't see him going in and out of you, but you would see him looking at your body, which made you anxious.
"Put my cock inside your pussy again, pillar," he ordered, placing kisses on your neck, forcing your hips up, causing his cock to rub against your belly. "Don't be afraid to hold my dick, it really likes you." And he ended with a crooked smile, making you arch your eyebrow.
Reluctantly, you took hold of the thick base of his cock and lifted a little to position it at your entrance and with a groan of pleasure, you descended, feeling him in every corner of your insides.
He also grunted and squeezed your waist, making you start moving. As horny as you felt, it didn't take long for you to start moving your hips slowly on his member, drawing from him and you gasps and moans of delight.
"As I thought, you are graceful even when you dance on my dick." He moved his hands up your neck and down to your breasts until he reached your waist. "Don't stop, keep going at that pace."
Then he tipped his body backwards, laying his back on the floor, just looking at you from above. His cock in and out of your pussy and your tits bouncing as you moaned and rolled your eyes from loving riding him so much was definitely his favorite thing from then on.
"While I'm doing all the work, you're just chilling," you said breathlessly, feeling the sweat trickle down your skin, noticing that Akaza had his hands behind his head, watching you twerking on him.
"But the view is so beautiful..." he licked his lip and took his hands from behind his neck and brought them to your breasts where he squeezed at the same time that he launched his hips up, making his cock hit deep in you, making you roll your eyes and see stars.
"Oh, fuck…" you whimpered.
As soon as he let go of your breasts, he put his right hand on your chest and pushed you back slightly, you only held on to his arms when he lifted his torso and leaned over yours to put you under his body. Half of your legs were suspended in the air, with your ass in his lap, as he held you firmly by the waist and hit you hard. His cock was going so deep into you that you couldn't even make a sound, you could only hear his balls slamming hard against your ass.
"Hold on to me," he demanded, stopping his movements, still connected to you.
You did what he said and then you felt yourself lying flat on the floor. He grabbed both of your calves and placed them on either side of his shoulders, making his entire length hit an unknown spot on you. It hurt like hell and the pain got worse as he pounded deeply.
"It hurts... This position hurts," you complained softly, your voice shanking with annoyance.
He stopped and stared at your face, still with his hands firmly on your waist.
"How boring was sex with your husband?" he asked genuinely in disbelief. You didn't like that and you refused to answer, but you knew he would make you talk. "I asked you a question, girl." He pushed himself inside you and squeezed your waist with an inordinate force, making you gasp in pain.
"We didn't innovate in the positions..." you replied at the time, brokenly.
"Hmm... and what was your sex like?"
"Hey, I'm not going to answer that!" You were stunned by his cockiness.
"I'm just curious." He shrugged and brought his hands up to your thighs, which were partially resting on his chest. "What was it like? You better answer..."
You grumbled.
"He would just lift the hem of my nightgown up to my belly, take off my panties and penetrate me until he came," you replied, feeling stupid.
Akaza arched an eyebrow.
"Even having such a feast served at home, he didn't even have the decency to taste it properly? What kind of loser did you get to be your husband?"
His rude words awakened your anger and without thinking twice, you slapped his face.
Realizing what you'd just done, you braced yourself for retaliation, but it didn't come, because all that happened was he heaved a sigh.
"Is it a weak slap like that you want to save that asshole's honor? Put more strength in that little hand, make my obsession with your strength assert," he said in an almost affectionate way.
And you slapped him again, a little harder.
"Harder."
And yet another slapping sound was heard.
"Weak human. That's why you weren't so well eaten-" and his sentence was left unfinished as his face fell to the side with the hard slap that hit the left side of his cheek.
There were a few seconds of silence. You watched his reaction, which didn't come right away. He remained with his face down, in the same position your slap had placed, and only then did you notice a trickle of blood running at the corner of his lip.
And he looked at you.
His eyes glittering dangerously and a macabre smile lining his bleeding lips.
Without saying anything, he took your legs from his shoulders to wrap them around his waist. Three strong, deep thrusts made your body jerk and the groan strangled in your throat in surprise.
One of his hands went to the back of your neck where he gripped your hair tightly and made you lift your head to face him.
"You are my best girl," he said before taking your lips in an aggressive kiss.
The thrusts were strong and deep, your tits swaying painfully with the aggressive rhythm of your bodies. The skin on your waist that was in contact with his hand was already burning from the grip.
It was so intense that you felt as if millions of little fireworks burst in your chest, intoxicating your senses and leaving you only muttering unintelligible things, showing him how good you were feeling.
He no longer measured the volume of his own moans or held back the expletives that escaped. Your pussy crushing his cock was just ammunition for his hips to move with more speed and firmness next to yours.
The erotic dance only came to an end when he grew more inside you and you felt him stretching you more and giving you errant thrusts, no longer taking care not to hurt you. You wanted to complain, but the pain mixed with that avalanche of sensation just made you want him to fuck you like that forever.
And then everything calmed down. It came out of you, leaving you feeling empty. You almost swore at him, but he put two fingers over your mouth and without thinking or receiving orders, you welcomed them into your mouth, sucking hard, looking straight into his bright eyes.
With his free hand, he was jerking off his cock, making a wet noise that was pleasant to hear. And then he took his fingers from your mouth cavity just to bring his groin closer to your body so he got up and lifted your torso by your hair, still without stopping masturbating himself, he put the wet tip of his cock on your lips, silently demanding you to open your mouth and you obeyed without blinking, feeling his taste mixed with yours on your tongue.
But contrary to what you thought, he didn't try to shove himself fully into your mouth, he just rubbed the tip over your tongue and forced it into your cheeks, making you feel your skin tighten.
You noticed the moment his moans became grunts and his whole body shuddered and he took the wet cock of pre-cum and saliva from your mouth, without stopping with the strokes and without letting go of your hair, to then release the jets of cum against your face and neck. You just closed your eyes and let your own digits work over your pulsating clit in an attempt to cum along with him. Your orgasm arrived soon after, before his eyes. He was still affected by his release, but he still held your cum-stained face and stuck his thumb inside your mouth, which was bitten hard as you came. He smiled and pulled you by the arm so that you got up and leaned on him.
"Will you be my mine and let me turn you into a demon so we can fight forever by each other's side?" he asked as he had you sitting sideways on one of his thighs, keeping your legs apart to massage your thighs, right next to your entrance numb from frantic fucking.
"Do you still have that in your head?" your voice is broken.
"Of course. Now you have nothing left to lose. You said you don't have a husband anymore, you let a human be devoured by a demon and took pleasure in it, and now you let an even worse demon fuck you. Or is there something more in your worthless human life?"
You knew he was right. But a part of you still wanted to honor your mother's memory and her effort to protect you from evil.
However, while you made Akaza lie on the floor again and put your cunt in his mouth, you closed your eyes to ask your mother's forgiveness for having given in to evil, because you knew that this evil did not only inhabit the darkness, it also always has been inside you.
a/n: considere reblogging it, cause it helps a lot! <3
Which fics would you recommend featuring your most monstrous, non-humanoid beasties? Particularly smut but i can dig fluff too!
Depends on what you like, and what your definitions are, but while most of my stuff is pretty tame really, there are these ones. Some of them are probably still well within the definition of humanoid, but hey. Feel free to ignore ones that aren’t monstrous enough. I left out nagas and driders because of their humanoid torsos, but left a few others like gorgons.
They’re all in my long-stories masterlist and short-stories masterlist.
___
Shadow (nsfw)
Shadow Monster x Fem Reader (nsfw)
Big burly submissive alien x reader (First Officer Ornorx) (nsfw)
Body-shy alien x female reader (Er’Athien) (nsfw)
Male dragon x female reader (Telum) (nsfw)
Male bat monster x plus sized female reader (Pallas) (nsfw)
Cerberus boyfriends x reader (Finley, Jack, Thom) (nsfw)
Shadow monster x reader (sfw) (angst prompt fills)
Big male half-demon x reader (Arzeran) (nsfw)
Female deathclaw x female reader (nsfw)
Male tentacled monster x chubby male reader (nsfw)
Male gargoyle x male reader (nsfw)
Male gorgon x male reader (very light nsfw)
Male gargoyle x female reader (nsfw) (Alesh’s story Part One (nsfw) Part Two (nsfw))
Male dragon x female reader (sfw)
Male naga x female reader (nsfw)
Male yautjia x female reader (nsfw)
Male dragon x female reader (sfw)
Male dragon x female reader (light nsfw)
Male alien x female reader (sfw)
Male shadow monster x fem girlfriend (monster pov, light nsfw)
Female alien x reader (very light nsfw)
Male gargoyle x disabled female presenting nb reader (sfw)
Sea dragon pirate Captain x human stowaway (nsfw)
NB insectoid monster x reader (sfw)
Male alien x reader (light sfw) *’smooch’ prompt fill* for Ornorx (nsfw))
Male alien x reader (nsfw, bdsm) *’smooch’ prompt fill* for Ornorx (nsfw))
Male gargoyle x reader (sfw) *’smooch’ prompt fill*
Male gargoyle x reader (light nsfw) *’smooch’ prompt fill for Alesh - Part One (nsfw))*
yousharknotpass
izzy806
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