Characters mentioned are the ones I can manage to write without making them seem too fake. Those not mentioned are ones I simply can't write properly for or just didn't grasp their core personality yet.
husband!byakuya who underneath his stoic exterior, has much love to give.
husband!byakuya who knows you like the back of his hand. from your hobbies, to all of your little quirks, to your fears and dreams. nothing about you goes unoticed.
husband!byakuya who enjoys nighttime walks with you around the kuchiki garden, hand in hand. though few words are exchanged, you find that there's no need to say anything at all.
husband!byakuya who's primary love language is gift giving. a small hairpin that he knows would fit your style, clothes made of the finest fabrics, a book he thinks you would like. who hopes that these gifts would convey what he feels, for words tend to fail him. who secretly likes when you have a piece of him on you, hoping he's on your mind.
husband!byakuya who refuses to gamble with your safety, even though he knows you can defend yourself. he's already lost one love, he doesn't know if he can handle losing another. who doesn't hesitate to take down those who are a threat to you.
husband!byakuya who doesn't coddle you, but that somewhat slips when you grow sick. who could make sure you recieve nothing but the best care. who would hold your hand as if he can siphon off some of his own strength to you. who's the most vulnerable you will ever see him, but you're too deep in sleep to notice.
husband!byakuya who tries to teach you caligraphy. who's patient with you if it's something that doesn't come easy to you. who would write small notes and letters in that elegant script of his and watches as you read it, relishing in the beautiful smile that blooms on your face.
husband!byakuya who's fighting style is like his caligraphy. smooth, elegant and precise. it's almost like an art form in of itself. who takes the time to teach you the ways of the sword. whether you're already a shinigami or someone who has never held a sword in their hands, it's all the same. it becomes a regular occurance between the two of you.
husband!byakuya who feels so proud to refer to you as his spouse. or when others refer to you as 'lord/lady kuchiki.'
husband!byakuya who's thumb traces the cool metal of your wedding ring, drawing comfort from the gesture. who presses his lips to it whenever you're alone.
husband!byakuya who always lends you his scarf during the colder months.
husband!byakuya who's secondary love language is quality time. who despite his busy schedule, always tries to find small pockets of time to spend together. makes sure that you both eat breakfast and dinner together everyday, making it crystal clear that he is not to be disturbed until you're both finished.
husband!byakuya who allows only you to touch his hair. who didn't expect to love the feeling of your fingers combing through the strands of his hair, but it never fails to soothe him. who never outright asks for you to brush his hair, but is silently hoping you're able to read the subtle hints he's sending your way.
husband!byakuya who's kisses are slow and delicate, each motion carrying with it a tenderness that surprises even him on occasion. who's favorite places to kiss you is hand and your wrist, lips gentle brushing against the pulse point like he's handling something precious. and to him, you are someone to be cherished and treasured.
⭑.ᐟ "if you aren't sniffing her panties daily to check for ph balance changes, then what are you doing?"
we all know that caleb is a panty sniffer. and an avid one at that. but i’d like to believe that he’s a panty sniffer with a purpose! (other than getting his dick hard, of course.)
every single time you slip a pair off and put them in the hamper, he’s taking them out when you’re not in sight and analysing them. he checks what kind of discharge you’re having, even feels it to see if you’re ovulating yet (and when you are, he marks it in his calendar). then, he’ll take a whiff. whenever you try new foods, he can smell them. the slightest difference, maybe a tang depending on the food, but it’s still there.
if you’ve got a yeast infection, his nose knows. he can smell the intense acidity the minute he retrieves your discarded panties. armed with this knowledge, he’ll get you some medicine from the pharmacy and watch you take it. you’ll be stunned by how he knows when you only just realised. it’s because he’s a freak cares.
⭑.ᐟ "d'you need any pillows?" + "wait, let me get a pillow for your hips."
i’m still undecided about whether caleb is a dom, sub, or switch. he was leaking pre-cum just from seeing you naked in the cameras he’s got all over your apartment. he almost came on the spot the first time you touched his bare cock. and he did cum the moment he slid inside you for the first time.
but, he’s got these yandere tendencies which make me think he’s a dom.
and even if i’ll never know the answer to this conundrum, what i do know is that in bed, caleb prioritises your comfort in every position. he’ll always ask if you’re comfortable before pounding into you like a rabid pack animal (oh wait! he is one).
if you’re spoon-fucking, best believe he’s propping a pillow beneath your top knee so you’re more comfortable, and he has greater access to your clit. before he eats you out, he’ll lift you by your ankles and slip a pillow beneath your hips. on your knees with your ass up and face down? there’s a pillow against your cheek that you can scream into and cuddle with if you need it.
but if you do cuddle the pillow, i think caleb, despite being fucked out as he’s thrusting into you, would notice and immediately become jealous. he would start fucking you even harder, yapping about how much better he can hold you then some stupid pillow. it can’t even hug you back! not like caleb can. with his muscular arms and firm chest and meaty thighs.
when you’re at it but not in the bedroom, let’s say, on the kitchen counter or couch, he’s still checking in with you to make sure you’re at ease. i think he avoids bending you over the kitchen counter while naked because obviously when he ruts into you, you’ll shift forward, which is (i would imagine) ouchies for your boobs pressed against the bench top. it’s also painful for your hip bones, and i think hurting you during sex is such a deal breaker for caleb.
(because his whole thing is that he’s so in love with you and obsessed with you, right? he’s so grateful that you’re even giving him a chance. how could he hurt you, his precious girl? but he inevitably does because he’ll do anything to protect you, even if it upsets you. which in turn makes him feel guilty and awful and like he doesn’t deserve you. so when you forgive him and give him another chance, he feels so grateful and the cycle repeats.)
even if you want him to, i think it would take time, practice, and trust (in you and himself), for caleb to be alright with intentionally neglecting your comfort or causing you pain (which causes you pleasure, you little masochist).
⭑.ᐟ “what am i? a leg press to you?”
during sexy time, he’s definitely cracking some jokes. and this particular one is delivered in that teasing tone as your feet rest on his shoulders, trying to push him off because the mating press has him too deep in your tummy.
he’s your childhood friend turned captor, of course he has a sense of humour! not to be a drag, but so many caleb smuts (incl. my sole one btw right here if you haven’t read it) make him out to be so harsh and possessive. which he is. to an extent. not a complaint but an observation. still love a possessive, jealous caleb smut. BUT i don’t think that’s his angle every time, you know?
along the same lines of comfort, i think joking around would be his way of helping you to relax and let go during your intimacy. maybe he’s licks the tip of your nose during missionary or ruffles your hair teasingly as you suck his cock, making you pull off him and giggle as he grins giddily down at you. or he’ll straight up deliver some stand up comedy while balls deep in you.
furthermore, caleb is a yapper, and he’s not gonna stop yapping once y’all are going at it. if anything, i think he’s yapping even more when you’re doing the devil’s tango. he’s running his mouth, rasping out praises and compliments which make you blush and gush. as we’ve established, he’s telling jokes. maybe he’s riling you up, pissing you off so you can tell him to shut up (which makes him even harder).
⭑.ᐟ “use me however you want”
imagine this, you’re needy asf and text caleb about your predicament. 20 minutes later, he’s at your doorstep. dropped everything under the guise of handling an “emergency” at home, because to caleb, this is a fucking emergency. all hands on deck, you lead him to the couch. things are getting hot and heavy, you’re grinding on his bulge, and he drops this line.
you stop, stunned as you stare at him, stuttering if that’s really okay. he urges you on, and soon enough, he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the couch. his head is thrown back, resting on the cushions as you ride his face.
that nose was MADE to be rode (and to sniff panties), convince me otherwise, ha ha you can’t. and he swears he’s seeing the stars, at heavens’ gates (fr this time) as you drag your sopping cunt all over his mouth. he’s lapping at you, finally quiet for once and in awe of how much you need him right now.
his veiny hands are wrapped around your hips, steadying you as you buck wildly, desperate for his tongue and his nose against your clit. and when you cum, he’s cumming with you. no touching required, your pleasure, your trembling thighs clamping tight around his head in sync with slick and sweet release dripping out of your hole as you scream and cry out, is more than enough to get him off.
if you weren’t riding his face and instead just sitting on it, you can rest assured that he would be using his gravity evol to crush his face with your weight. this pilot wants you to SIT on his face. fuck that hovering bullshit. he’d rather break his perfect fucking nose while making you orgasm than not feel your full weight on him.
i think caleb’s free use kink is natural. it’s not something he’s ever questioned before. like he’s never questioned his undying love and obsession with devotion to you. any time you want him, that’s enough to get him going. hell, he even lets you use him in his sleep. not that you do. you’re not ready for that level of freak yet. or maybe you are, idk. but he loves the thought of waking up and you’re dragging his leaking cock through your slippery slit, pushing it inside of you when he finally cracks his eyes open.
and then he asks if you need a pillow.
⭑.ᐟ “let me guess, the uniform stays on, pipsqueak?”
honestly, do i need to elaborate? i, pipsqueak, say that yes, the uniform stays on. the hat, the dog tags, the gloves (i’m foaming at the mouth rn btw pls restrain me), ESPECIALLY the gloves.
caleb quickly discovered your… fondness for his uniform and likes to tease you about it. when he comes home, all sweaty from another day as the fleet’s colonel with that big dopey grin on his face from seeing his precious girl baking him goodies or reading on the couch, he knows where your mind goes. he’ll give you a big cuddle and try to go and clean up, and sometimes you let him.
other times, though, you’ll pull him back into your arms and hold on to him so tight, it’s like you’re just as afraid as he is that one of you will vanish into thin air. when you gaze up at him with those doe eyes, begging him to ‘entertain’ you that he’ll ask if the uniform stays on. and unfortunately for him, the answer is always yes.
hell, caleb is beginning to feel like a whore with how you pinch his ass in those snug pants and objectify him (he’ll cry it you stop).
i can’t think of anything hotter than caleb, in his fitting uniform, with those gloved hands around your neck, restraining you in a mating press and taking out all of his frustration on your poor pussy after a hard day at work (with your consistent reassurance that doing so is a-okay). those dog tags dangling near your face so you suck on the pendants. his tie is loose, and sweat is dripping down his brow as he babbles about supervising the new recruits.
match my freak, colonel uniform + he gags you with an apple. maybe those new recruits really fucking pissed him off, and when he got home, you were testing him. or maybe he saw you with the delivery man this morning (via the cameras) and decides to remind you of who you belong to.
masterlist
star's final words: i'm back lol. got the clearance from my surgeon today for my ridiculous amount of screen time. this post is more of a rant than a drabble, but i hope y'all still liked it! super excited to be back. i had so many ideas in my six days off (the grind never stops).
when the condom gets stuck in you, so caleb fishes it out
soaked in sweat, you collapse onto the bed with a huff. from behind you, caleb chuckles while his hands pry your thighs apart.
“i gotta clean you up, pips,” he pants.
“mhmm,” you hum as you grab a strewn pillow and snuggle into it. your boyfriend’s blissed-out eyes narrow at the fluffy intruder taking his place.
his voice has an edge to it as he mutters, “be right back.” the mattress hugs your sole figure as you moan softly from the aftershocks of your nth orgasm tonight. the copper sheets rustle, and the bed dips as caleb returns with a damp towel in hand. he wipes up your pussy’s drool, knocking your clit in the process.
“caleb!” you squeal.
he grins, “sorry, honey,” while running the towel over your inner thighs. he then guides you onto your back and cleans your vulva properly. the coolness of the towel is refreshing, a nice contrast to caleb’s hot mouth and even hotter tongue. once he’s satisfied, the colonel starts wiping himself up.
but something’s missing!
he thought his cock was feeling a little too exposed when he was grabbing the towel, but didn’t bother to look down. now that he has, he realises the condom has vanished.
you’re in a daze, mewling quietly as your boyfriend overturns pillows and bunches up the sheets. the pillow is still in your clutch, keeping you safe as you journey back down from your high.
he nudges your leg unintentionally in his frantic search, making you whine, “calebbbb, what’re you doing?” not spotting the condom anywhere, he sucks in a sharp breath.
“pips,” he starts, his usual charisma gone. “the condom came off, and i can’t find it.”
“mhmm,” you sigh, shifting onto your side and adjusting your body to get cosy.
he places a hand on your hips and sways you gently, “pips, did you hear what i just said?”
“mhmm,” you reply. but, in fact, you did not hear him.
“don’t ‘mhmm’ me, baby. i can’t find the condom,” he says, frustrated.
“what?” you grumble tiredly. caleb rolls you onto your back again and pries the pillow from your grasp.
“i said,” he sighs, while chucking it amongst the mess that is his bed. “i can’t find the condom.” you rub your eyes, the worried look on his sweet features blinking into focus as you gaze around you.
“what do you mean you can’t find the condom?” you ask, your breath hitching in sudden panic. your puppy leans over you and cups your face before planting a smooch on your lips.
drawing back, he says in a calmer tone than before, “don’t stress, honey. i’m gonna find it, okay?” you nod with pouty lips, your fingers encircling his wrists.
he continues, “i think it’s still inside of you, baby.” your eyes widen as you stare at him like a deer in headlights.
“what?!” you exclaim, sitting up and shoving him off you. looking down at your pussy, you clench your walls, trying to locate the missing condom. you gaze up at caleb whose eyes are flickering between yours and your coochie.
you ramble, “i can’t feel anything out of the ordinary. are you sure it’s not around here?” he nods earnestly and places his hands on your shoulders.
giving them a light squeeze, he reassures you, “i promise you, honey. i’m gonna fix this.” he pushes you down gently and props your hips up on the same pillow he was glaring at moments ago. you whine as he spreads your legs wide, but before sinking between them, he perks up like a lost pup whose heard its owner’s voice.
“wait,” he says breathily. “let me google it.”
“caleb!” you call. he scrambles over you to grab his phone and starts typing away furiously. clicking on an article, he scrolls to the ‘how to remove a stuck condom’ section.
“okay,” he starts. “relax vaginal muscles. insert one or two fingers. fish out condom using a hook-like motion. try to push the condom out like a baby.”
“caleb,” you groan. setting the phone back down on his bedside table, your boyfriend kisses your forehead before dashing off to the bathroom to wash his hands. coming back, he positions himself between your thighs.
“alright, step one: try to relax,” he instructs, his breath fanning your pussy. your clit twitches as you clench, scared of what’s going to happen next.
“pips,” he says in that warning tone. “i know you’re worried, but you gotta relax and let me help you, okay?” you nod energetically and attempt to still your muscles.
he reminisces, “d’you remember the first time we had sex? you were clenching around me so tight, and i was trying so hard not to cum. honestly, it was like i’d died and gone to heaven—”
“caleb,” you grumble.
“right,” he grins sheepishly. “point is, you were sooooo nervous. but once we got into it, you were fine. this is similar.” you lift your head from your pillow and gaze down at him with a knot in your brow.
“this is not similar,” you ground out.
one hand rubs your hip soothingly as he replies, “it could be.”
you sigh, “baby, please,” as you slump on the bed. the mattress vibrates with your movement as the springs creak.
a few seconds of silence pass before caleb says cheekily, “now that you’re relaxed, we’re gonna move onto step two: mission ‘retrieve the lost condom’.” you groan as you cover your face with your hands.
“colonel xia, reporting for duty. soldier pipsqueak, prepare for insertion of two fingers,” he says in his military voice. you can’t help but laugh, feeling much more at ease as he prods your entrance.
“steady now, soldier. we wouldn’t want any sudden movements to jeopardise our mission, would we?” you shake your head and keep your hips stable as much as you can.
your colonel coos, “good work, soldier pipsqueak.” his long fingers slip in with little resistance. if anything, your gummy walls suck him in, hungry for the kind of pleasure only he can provide. his fingertips slide up your ridges, searching for the lost object.
after a minute or so, he stops.
glancing up at you, caleb grins, “it seems we’ve encountered a foreign object. brace yourself for turbulence, soldier.”
one second.
that’s all he gives you before his fingers start ‘hooking’ the condom. with his free hand, your boyfriend grabs yours and intertwines your fingers.
“now, push,” he commands.
“push?” you sputter.
“like you’re giving birth.”
“i’m not pregnant!” you say exasperated. his eyes sharpen as you feel him nudge your walls.
“you might be, pips, if i don’t get this condom out.” you whimper before following his orders. it’s strange, pushing but trying not to let anything slip out at the same time. this is enough of an accident and an embarrassment for one night, you don’t need another on your hands. well, his hands if you think about it–
“ugh, caleb,” you groan, feeling defeated as his fingers continue fishing around in your hole.
“almost there, soldier. i’ve got a firm hold on our target. just one more push,” he murmurs.
“for love of—” you push again, and finally, caleb’s fingers slide out, the slick, crumpled condom between them.
you sigh, your body melting as he tosses it in the trash bin. climbing up your frame, he peppers kisses all over your face before landing one right on your lips. you moan into his mouth while cupping his jaw, so glad that uncomfortable predicament has been dealt with.
breaking the kiss, ropes of spit connect your lips as your colonel grins all goofy. his sunset eyes twinkle in the warm lamplight, and his hair is ruffled. you giggle and yank him down on top of you. he cries out as your bodies slam together, your nose already nuzzling his neck.
“pips,” he mumbles into your ear.
you exhale, “i’d say that our mission’s complete, wouldn’t you, colonel xia?” he chuckles breathily into your warm skin and inhales your sweaty-sweet scent.
“thanks for trusting me, soldier,” caleb says tenderly while flipping you two around. he grabs the blankets and hikes them over your bodies, all the way up to your chin. then, he rests one hand on your upper back and the other on the back of your head, stroking your hair gently.
you sigh contentedly, “always, baby.” in his loving embrace, you fall asleep while caleb thinks about the plan b he’s going to buy you before you wake up tomorrow morning.
presenting it to you mid-teeth brushing, you spit out the foamy toothpaste and challenge him, “maybe we should try it raw next time?” his self-restraint only lasts until you swallow down the little pill. then, he’s pouncing on you and dragging you back to bed for part two.
embarrassing/gone wrong sex moments m.list
full m.list
Now playing; Fatal Attraction - Reed Wonder, Aurora Olivas
"Enjoying the view?" Caleb's voice is low, rough with sleep.
You kept your back to him, sitting up in his bed. Tangled in his sheets. Dressed in his gifted clothes. Stockings clad legs heavy and limp from last nights endeavours.
Faintly, you hear the sheets rustle, but your mind has wandered off, hypnotised by the view from the floor to ceiling windows. The sun beginning to peak over the mountains, flocks of birds flying towards the horizon, as if diving towards salvation.
Is it truly salvation?
You briefly wonder to yourself, would a star that burns truly gift you the kind of freedom you yearn for? How long has it been since he trapped you here? This gilded cage, crafted in his blood, sweat, and sweet, divine tears.
Even still, you cant help the part of you that yearns to go outside again, to be a part of society again. But then his bionic arm reaches over, dragging his fingers up from the bottom of the cut in your sweater, slipping under the collar and wrapping around the back of your neck, turning your head to the side where he is next to you. You shudder as the cold metal kisses your skin, slowly stealing the warmth of your skin. Pulse quickening beneath his metal plated fingertips.
His lips on your ear, his bare, sweaty chest pressing into your back as he whispers promises of keeping you safe, healthy and loved, within his reach-
Oh how it made your blood boil.
You bit your lip, brows furrowed, spite and venom at the tip of your tongue, and yet, when your eyes rove over his features, all fight in your fibers fizzles out like vapours. As if you didn't just intend to fight tooth and nail for your freedom.
But that's where you crumble. Kneeling before delicious agony of internal conflict. The war of gazes and internal desire. As much as you want to go outside, you know if you leave you'd never be able to come back to him.
But never come back to him? To his voice that makes your knees weak and core tremble? His hands so gentle they hold you like flower petals made of porcelain. His embrace so warm and comforting, no other form of security could compare. But his hand on your neck is suffocating. You're losing your identity in your desire to be his, that you've forgotten everything else that brought you joy, because it's him.
He has become your joy and your sorrow all at once. His hands on you set your skin on fire, the warmth that warms you, but leaves burns and scars.
"Look at me," his voice drawls low and rough against your ear. It sends sparks in your nerves and goosebumps down your spine, to your toes.
But you're weak, so you concede. You always do. Bending over backward to his whims, because that's the control you've yielded to him. And as much as you hate yourself for it, there's not an ounce of regret in your heart. No, there's revelry. Your mind scolds you for your weakness but your body sings beneath his fingers. Pliant to his wishes, obedient to his commands against your better judgement.
What do you call a love thats so bittersweet?
His lips find your neck, warm, loving, sweet. His kisses are as soft and gentle as raindrops on your skin. His hands, both hot and cold, bring you down before him, an offering laid bare before him. The look in your eyes makes his chest tighten, and he cups your cheek, lips finding yours, in hopes of allaying whatever hurts you. His touch is meant to cure, to heal, to fix, whatever pain this world has brought you. To fill the void he knows haunts your nights.
He spreads you open like he owns you, like this body was made for him and him alone. Every soft, gasping sound you make is answered by the slow, punishing roll of his hip
His kisses are feverish. Intense. Hungry. He feasts on your flesh. Rushed in his grip, but so agonisingly patient in how he savours every inch.
“Give it to me,” he rasps, voice thick with need. “Your pain. Your guilt. Your body. I want it all—make me feel what you feel—” and he fucks it out of you, one aching, desperate thrust at a time.
"I want to feel you, your pain, your sorrow, your hurt- everything. Give. it. to. me." he growls between wet, messy kisses, pinching your cheeks between his fingers to bring your side turned face back to him, each word punctuated by a brutal slam of his hips against the back of your thighs.
Just as you are powerless to his eyes, he is to yours.
Fill my desire, then give me pain?
He says he’ll never hurt you. But he does, every time he reminds you that no one else will love you like this. It ignites an ache in your chest, and not from the bites and bruises he leaves in wake of his love for you. An ache that burns like guilt.
Like betrayal.
But whom have you betrayed?
Him? Or yourself?
The way his voice makes you press your thighs together, the way you willingly spread yourself open then when he tells you to. The way you grit your teeth when he tells you he'll 'keep you safe', is the same way you moan for his closeness, clawing at him until his chest presses to yours and you physically feel his heart beating against yours.
The way he has you at his mercy, anytime, anyway he pleases. And you crave his command over you.
It drives you insane.
This war between who you want to be, and who you are.
Miss Hunter, an independent, competent and capable young woman, or,
His sweet little meimei. His darling. His beloved. His precious little star. The apple of his eyes. The only light in his life.
He and his world revolve around you, the same way you revolve around him.
Seduced by your passion I know that its not safe
His skin is flushed red, pressed firmly against yours. His body is burning against yours, skin slick, breath hot, and you feel his heartbeat—fast and heavy—where he’s buried so deep inside you it feels like he’s replaced your own. You clench around him, tight and needy, and his growl vibrates through your spine. His grip bruises your hips as he drives into you harder, like he’s trying to force the memory of anyone else out of your body
The way you tighten around him, sucking him in, wrapping yourself around him, spewing venom and disdain in his ear, threatening to escape and leave. Knowing damn well it makes him dig his fingers into your hips and thrust harder, if only to silence your hurtful words.
To stop you from breaking, not his heart, but your own. Because he knows,
A love so dark its a sin
You're in too deep in his love to ever truly be able to escape.
You say his name like a prayer.
But God hasn’t heard from you in a long, long time.
Perhaps you're not so different from the birds flying off into the horizon. Because you know, Caleb is your sun, your world spins on his axis. And you know how badly he burns you, but you still, willingly melt under him, letting his heat consume you. And you'll continue to let him consume you, until all that's left of you, is him.
The Iudex of Fontaine is a busy man. However could he possibly keep track of you in the hustle and bustle of everyday life? Fortunately for him, the Melusines have his back.
yandere! neuvillette x gn! reader.
Soft orange cracks of the setting sun lurked in the office of the Iudex, the endless stacks of papers causing him much stress as his mind wandered to literally anything other than the work he ought to be doing. His hands shook with worry as he glanced over at the large glass of water beside him, the clear liquid seemingly staring back at him, daring the man to finally make a move.
Despite his status, despite his power, Neuvillette was but a man when it came to you.
Never in his life had he allowed himself to grow so attached to another person. For all those centuries he spent walking on this Earth, Neuvillette kept a calm demeanor and polite face to the world. He was renowned for his kindness and gentle heart despite the viciousness his duties required of him. He stood high as the personification of justice itself, a proud symbol of everything which needed to be held up high and respected. He was indeed very much respected. Even loved in some special way by the people of Fontaine.
He never realized just how much his soul ached for the presence of another human being by his side, someone who was willing to allow him to just... be himself. Someone who would allow him to drop the mask for a few blissful moments, a person who would tell him that it was okay for him to make a mistake.
Neuvillette never acted on these desires.
That was precisely why he felt so starstruck at the downright violation of his heart.
How could you do this to him? How dare you do this to him? Neuvillette lost count how many times he tried to shoo you off but it was to no avail. It was as if you were glued to him by the hip and he adored every moment of it.
His weeping heart was not ready for the intensity of his emotions.
Sometimes when no one was around, he would shed tears at the thought of you. What were you doing? How was your day? Why did you care so much about him? Were you even aware of the emotional turmoil you caused him? Honestly, he could not even be mad at you.
He loved you too much to ever be angry with you.
Dark grey clouds would hover high above all of Fontaine, the tears of the crying dragon cascading down the world. Neuvillette would sit in his office, alone and scared, with no one to comfort him.
That was his first initial thought at least.
Some people say that there is a rainbow behind every corner and as time passed, the Iudex learned that lesson too. Tiny footsteps would tail behind him like looming shadows, always there but out of reach. Whenever he would turn around there would be no one there and if there ever was he would have to lower his gaze down towards the ground, only to be met with the face of a smiling Melusine. He would have a chat with the sweet creature which always managed to lift his spirits, even for a little bit. The conversations were usually brief but as time went on the tiny Melusines became more... nosey, shall we say.
They would ask the Iudex personal questions which they could have not known about such as who was that person who kept visiting him in his office. What was his affiliation with them. The blush on his pale cheeks always gave him away which always caused the Melusines to giggle but they would say nothing more, always dropping the topic as fast as they brought it up.
Melusines did not understand human nature and its complicated feelings. Neither did Neuvillette, which they knew. That was no reason for them not to try to learn.
One day though, Liath delivered a set of organized documents straight to Neuvillette's desk. He first found this to be odd but the Melusine said nothing, only giving him a mysterious little smile as she waited for the Iudex to see the contents of the things she had brought.
With a delicate touch, Neuvillette took the files in his gloved hands and opened them carefully. His eyes widened in shock as he read everything with utmost care.
Absolutely everything inside was about you.
Your height, weight, age, birth certificate, some little things that were written down by hand such as your hobbies, names of friends and family, places you frequented.
Neuvillette quickly shut the folder, his heart pumping hard and fast as he looked back at Liath.
"This was a joint operation by all of us. We just wished to ease your suffering, Monsieur Neuvillette."
He could feel his throat drying up with each passing moment, any semblance of a potential word which he wanted to say all dying on his tongue.
This was wrong, illegal even.
He still could not help but to feel touched.
He did not reprimand the Melusines for their actions. He was ashamed for relying on such tactics. For the time being though, this could be a surefire way to help him ease his anxieties.
Perhaps he could even woo you a little in the process as well...
💭 : p in v , overstimulation , fem!reader , praise , improper use of evol , squirting , messy sex , marathon sex , it’s ovulation week girls !! ^^
caleb knew how you got during ovulation week. one glance at his biceps, arms, or chest, and you’re looking at him with those eyes that are practically begging him to fuck you until you pass out.
and right now? you were looking at him with the same eyes. which is how you got led here. pinned down. drooling from both lips. being stretched out by a cock that was close to splitting you in half. “good girl,” caleb panted, sweat dripping from his temple.
his large form leaned over you, chest pressing against your legs in the meanest, most perfect mating press. his cock was hitting your g-spot repeatedly, drawing out more and more high, dumbed out moans from your puffy lips. he knew it too. oh, caleb knew how good you felt. to your fucked out facial expression to how your pussy is covering his cock whole.
“such a pretty—hah—pussy. god, she missed me, huh? suckin’ me in—all greedy,” he blabbered into your ear, the tone of his voice making you clench around his cock hard. you couldn’t even understand what he was saying—your brain was turning into mush, drooling from your panting mouth.
slurred words caleb didn’t even try to understand came out of your mouth as you went cross eyed, turning louder and louder. “ca—caleb! close, mph, ‘m close!” you whined and the man above you grinned. it felt like his thrusts got harder, faster and he pushed against your legs until they almost met your ears. “yeah? is my dumb baby close? i bet she is. ‘could feel this pussy clenching—i know her like the back of my hand.”
your gut coiled up into something you can’t explain and you blubbered nonsense, tears swelling in your eyes as you tensed. a few more thrusts—one, two, three—until you came with a scream.
except you didn’t cum. no, instead, you squirted. a wet splash and his abdomen, balls, and cock were covered in your juices. “holy—fuck—did you just squirt—” he let out a surprise gasp and your own pleasure triggered his own. he didn’t even have time to warn you before he toppled over, weight against your chest as he shot load after load into your wet heat.
you let out a mewl, too filled with ecstasy to hear hear caleb moan and groan about how “it’s so much”, and how he “can’t stop”. you felt filled to the brim, caleb’s thick cum seeping out of your well-stretched hole as his cock came to a stop. “fuck, thank you, baby. you did so good, so perfect.”
The hour was late, the night was cold, the raindrops pricked your skin like icicles. The nightsky shrouded with swirling storm clouds, shifting overhead with the promise of thunder haunting the peripherals.
You stepped out of your apartment complex, the city had all but fallen asleep, the streets dark and quiet, save for the occasion car driving by in the distance.
You had nothing in particular occupying your mind, silent, empty as the world felt at the dead of night, but full, and crowded at the same time. No thoughts on the forefront, but a world of grief hid behind those tired eyes, watching your own steps, one foot in front of the other. Another day slipping past from between your fingers like sand.
A heaviness lingered in your chest, tight and constricting, weighing down your lungs until it felt like every breath burned your insides. Goosebumps all over your skin, shivering underneath the bitter cold of the rain and the wind, but not enough to shock your nervous system out of its stupor. This grief was unrelenting, lingering like the ghosts of a hundred lifetimes seeking revenge at the same time. Whispers of anguish you felt but couldn't understand. Tears of loss and sorrow you could physically feel your heart ache for, but not remember.
You couldn't remember, and that realisation made it hurt ten fold. How can you forget wounds that still feel like they bleed and ache? Your wandering brings you to a quiet, little park. It feels eerily familiar, but not in the sense of seeing it while walking down the street. The dew riddled grass tugs at you, an urge to lay and roll in it, inexplicable and absurd, but strong enough that you can't rationalise your mind out of it. The puddles splash is muted under the pelting rain, but fortunately, before you could take another step into the park, a familiar, cold hand wraps around your wrist.
His soft voice calls your name, and it pulls at a fragment of your mind, not the conscious, but the impulsive, the reflexive. Your heart hears him before your mind, and when you turn, lifting your heavy hung head to meet his concerned hazel greens, you're startled.
"What on earth are you doing here?" His voice is soft, but stern. His coat on your shoulders before you can even realise. You loft your gaze up to meet his, and between the rain and the thunder in the distance, your tears drip down your chin, becoming one with the tears of heaven. You choke on your words, unable to formulate a coherent sentence. What were you doing out here?
His cold hand cups your cheek and you crumble, sobs and whimpers of hurt you can't name pouring out in waves. He drops his umbrella and embraces you. His concerned voice calls your name, twice, thrice, and it aches.
Something deep inside you burns in agony.
You clawed at his arm, nails digging through his clothes, into his skin. Your body shivering, shaking with sobs that tumbled put as if your soul was grieving. Sorrow so profound you couldn't understand. But despite the looming cold and shadows, his calm voice cuts through the storm, soft, strong, reassuring.
"I've got you", he said, "It's alright, you don't have to be strong anymore if you don't want to. I'll hold you and your grief,"
And he did. He held you as you crumpled, falling apart in his arms. Tears after tears poured out of your eyes, clutching his shirt for dear life. His fingers tangle in your hair, moving to the back of your head, guiding you to his chest. Your ear pressed against his warmth, his steady and strong heartbeat thundering in his chest.
His lips pressed gently to the crown of your head, his arms engulfing you in an encompassing hug, as if to conceal you from the world, to let you fall apart without letting anyone see.
The rest of the night is a blur. How he wraps you in his coat, holds you close to his heart, and carries you back home, brings you back to his place, helps you dry, and holds you in front of the hearth, until the bitter ice in your veins relents its hold and your skin starts to warm again. He holds you through your feverish mumbles, and half conscious nonsense. Reassures you a hundred times over, that he's by your side, that he'll take care of you.
You fell asleep in his arms, tears clinging to your lashes, pale, feverish and overwhelmed. But he takes care of you, watches over you through the night, brings you medicine when you get worse, warms you when your fever spikes, brings you water and food when you stir, whispers reassurance every time you make a pathetic and weak little noise.
"Zayne..." you mumbled in your sleep, searching the bed for him.
He was bringing another blanket to wrap you in, and heard you. He came over, sat beside your sleeping form, took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingertips, cupping your cheek with his other hand and whispers back sweetly,
Is a common statement. Ask anyone who's read or seen or even heard of falling in love, they'll tell you it's blind. Mad. All consuming. But were it truly such a vice, why depict it in every children's book? Every core memory, viewed through the rose colored lens of love. Platonic, romantic, sexual, unconditional- love is love. It exists across planes, across forms and shapes and bodies, it transcends the state of existence.
In a sense it's like a parasite. Much like anxiety. The more you feed it the more it grows. The more you contest it the quieter it becomes. So what of the anxious lover? The one who fears being rejected and rejects everyone else first. Are they in love with their loneliness?
Perhaps they are. The abused never seek to truly change their life, not because they love to be abused but because they fear. They fear that if the abuser doesn't love them, if the most vile of creatures comes to dislike them, then perhaps they are unlovable.
But isn't fear all consuming? irrational? Illogical? A built in system override?
Then, is to love the same as to fear? Or is to fear the same as to love?
•Blade reminding you who owns your sweet, little cunt after he caught you staring at another man~•
a/n: please note that this will be using the terms, 'good girl' and 'cunt', even though I tried to be gender neutral, it did lean towards the female anatomy and pronouns she/her!
Blade is also a little harsh due to his deep devotion and worship of you✧
!!!MDNI!!!
•.¸¸.•*`*•.•ஜீ☼۞☼ஜீ•.•*`*•.¸¸.•
˚*ೃ⋆｡˚ ➷.*ೃ𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐭 ˚*ೃ⋆｡˚ ➷.*ೃ
"Admit it. Admit it that you found him hot. Admit it that you wish he could stick his fucking dick into your cunt!", he growled into your ear as your back arched against the stone wall of an alleyway, struggling to cover your moans in desperate for a release.
His fingers curled along your walls, causing your eyes to flutter and for your hands to cover your mouth to conceal the whimpers that threatened to spill from your lips. His fingers to slid even deeper into your dripping pussy.
You struggled to form an answer for him, hell, you could barely form a word in this state- especially with the way his other hand was wrapped tightly around your throat, keeping you pinned against the stone while his finger fucked your soaking hole without hesitation or second thought.
"You'd like that huh? Me watching you get fucked balls deep by a stranger you couldn't keep your eyes off of?", his words were low, threatening and harsh. His voice alone caused your legs to nearly clench and your voice to crack from the pleasure that flowed your system in an unbearable amount, causing you to flutter your eyes open in hopes to give him the honest truth.
Or so you believed it to be the truth.
"N-No. I swear, baby-", your sentence was interrupted by your own gasp, feeling your toes curl and your nails to scratch along the wall in hopes to ground yourself from the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. His name fell from your lips like a harmony of a musical piece, filling him even further with his desire to show you who owned you. To show you who claimed your entire being.
To show you who owned you pretty cunt.
His lips pressed against your own, his tongue swirling around yours as he dominated you thoroughly, keeping you pinned while his fingers tightened around your throat to keep you there right where he wanted you. A fucking hot mess needy for his hard, thick cock.
"Don't lie to me", he harshly whispered against your lips and placed his forehead against your own. Oh how tempted you were to brush away those beautiful bangs from his pale, soft skin - you would if you could even think properly, "you want it, don't you?" His teeth sunk into your lower lip, tugging it firmly and allowing his tongue to glide along the soft texture.
His fingers were thrusting in and out of you at an alarming pace, making you squirm against his hold.
He's been denying you an orgasm every time you came close, making you whine when he suddenly pulled his finger out of you and placing them against his lips as he tilted your head with your chin to force you to watch him swirl his tongue around his wet digits covered in your juices, "So fucking delicious. Every fucking time. Fuck."
He smashed his lips against your own, his hand trailing down your sides before tightly gripping onto your ass and pulling you against him so you could feel the wetness and hardness pooling between his legs while he placed his thigh between your own, gently rubbing it against your wettening clit so you could feel the material of his trousers against those beautiful folds that drive him mad with desire.
Driving him mad every time he even thinks of them.
He pulled back from the kiss, staring into your eyes with a hooded gaze filled with nothing but lust and an intensity that could leave you melted against this very wall if it could. But for now, your fingers grazed the softness of his skin, parting your lips for air. You felt disappointed that he had denied you your climax, but then again, you want to prove him wrong.
To prove to him that the only man you ever saw attractive was him.
And him alone.
"Only you", you managed to whisper between choking gasps, subconsciously grinning your hips down onto his muscular thigh, feeling the material of his pants slide over your bundle of nerves as it caused your fingers to grip onto his jacket in desperate need.
Your eyes pooling with tears from sensation.
He groaned, releasing your throat and knotting his fingers into his hair, "Good girl. Good fucking girl. I own you. I own your existence. And I own your fucking cunt."
His nose pressed against yours gently while his reddened, bloodied eyes continued to stare into your own with an unyielding passion that transcended all through time and space.
His undying devotion...to you.
"Get on your knees. I'm not done with you."
His lips slid down the sensitive skin of your neck, before his teeth sunk down into the spot that made you arch your back out and whine so beautifully.
"Because I plan to show you and remind you just how desperate you are for my fucking cock."
•.¸¸.•*`*•.•ஜீ☼۞☼ஜீ•.•*`*•.¸¸.•
a/n: thank you so much for reading! And thank you for the 12 follows already! It means a lot \^.^/ I hope you enjoyed this drabble!
Dilf Ayato falling for a younger fem! reader who is the daughter of a pair of farmhands who had passed away a few years. She's had many suitors as her beauty is described as "peerless" but they were all rejected as she didn't want to become a trophy wife.
He arranges a meeting with the younger woman and is immediately taken aback by the sweet, petite beauty in front of him. After a lengthy conversation, they agree to get married and on their wedding night, he can't contain himself as he takes her virginity.
NSFW warning/Minors DNI
Fem reader x Dilf Ayato
Sweetness Divine
The Kamisato clan was large, and vast. And Ayato Kamisato, the current young head was intimately aquainted with all branches of his family. He could pin a name to each face in his family tree, for reasons he'd like to keep private, and knows of every step and even breath they all take. After all, control requires some level of observation. And a little leverage goes a long way to keep the less savoury relatives on a tight leash. As such, whenever some of his relatives pass away, he makes it a point to visit any remaining family of the deceased, and offer what little comfort, monetary or otherwise, he has.
Ayato's hands were warm, and much too large on a body as small and fragile as yours. It was intoxicating, to caress your petite, svelte frame. You fit in his arms so easily, it does something to his brain.
The Kamisato clan's main local income came from their tea leaf farms. And when one of his main money-makers was raided by Nobushi, you'd best believe he was on his way there the next moment.
His lips descended upon your untouched, virgin skin. His pale blue eyes fixated on every twitch, every shiver, every trembling breath you took.
But in his investigation for the perpetrators to put to justice, he happens upon a gem. Among the many bushes of fruits and gifts of the earth, he found a blessing from the heavens.
He found you.
In the darkness of his bedchambers, under the safety of his sheets, his hungry, lustful eyes feast upon your naked body. He savours the heaving of your chest, the quivering of your kissed and bruised lips, the tremor in your hands as you grip the sheets beneath you. But despite his otherwise cold and unaffected personality: you are an exception. You are the only woman, except his sister, who has earned his care. So he holds your hand, the metal of his wedding band briefly kissing yours, his large, encompassing hand devouring your slender, tiny hand in a gentle, reassuring grip. As if to anchor you.
Oh, sweet, innocent, naive little you. You greeted him at the front door, despite your parents bloodied corpses laying not to far from you, their blood pooling the wooden floors, staining your pristine yukata, and their horrified gaze in death staring into your back. Yet, your posture was perfect, your voice was steady and you remained perfectly composed.
"Forgive my inhospitality, my Lord. I'm afraid I have not tea to offer, nor a warm home."
Your words cut him deep, and in your shadow he saw a reflection. A memory. Once upon a time, he too, stood as you did. At the door, head bowed in greeting to the visiting elders after his parents unfortunate passing. He sees the pain lingering on your lashes, and he sees the strength in your character, your quivering lips, trembling legs, clenched fists-
It was all too familiar.
"I shall be your rock, your cornerstone. So rely on me, my sweet girl, and I shall cherish and protect you, as long as I live." His tone was sweet, low and flirtatious. But his words were sincere. Your heart pounding in your chest, against your ribcage, as if beating as a witness to his promise. "My Lord, I have accepted you, wholeheartedly. I pray you will as well."
At first he was too preoccupied with the loss of a perfectly running farm, you, a young girl alone couldn't possibly manage this entire farm yourself. But you insisted on staying. Part of him wishes to grant your request, part of him wanted to help you, give you some comfort. He knows the pain of losing family and the protection of your parents, and he knows the strife and stress that follows, and he wished to shield you, however:
"The passing of my parents is indeed a tragedy. But I cannot become a burden to you, My Lord. I refuse to be a liability."
Your words affected him more than he'd admit. Aside from the butterflies in his belly, his pants felt a little too tight.
Of the many suitors who'd visited your parents house, you'd never foreseen an outcome like this. Your parents are long gone, buried and now only living in memory. You've lost a shield that kept you safe from the gluttonous, sinful hands of lustful men, strangers and relatives alike. At first it was only the local neighbours that insisted on you getting a husband, now more than ever, if you wish to keep your family's farm running. Then came the distant relatives, until commoners and nobles alike were flocking to your farmhouse. But you could see through their shallow facade, see the hunger in their gaze. None wished to love and cherish you as they claimed. All these dastardly dogs sought was to use you. And heaven forbid, you'd rather be ran through with a blazing stake than allow a man the shallow satisfaction of flaunting you as an ornament.
But, there was one man, whom you saw true kindness in. Your clan's leader.
The day he came to visit you, the day you first met, you saw the melancholy in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated sadness, and heartfelt sympathy. Your conversation with him was brief, to the point, as you were on the verge of a meltdown, and he actually understood. Instead of lecturing you as everyone else did, he put his hand on your head, and reassured you that you were not alone. It brought tears to your eyes. His kindness, his compassion. You'd heard he was a manipulative man, but not even the greatest of actors could fake what you saw in his gaze.
Perhaps it was because he was older than you, much older than the majority of the suitors that came by. Or perhaps it was his promise to safety. But you found yourself drawn to him, just as he did to you. It wasn't long after his first visit that you sent a letter, inviting him again. And to your utter, pleasant surprise, he actually answered at your door. That night entailed a homey dinner, and a lengthy conversation in which you explained your predicament, and sought his advice to remedy your problem of unrelenting suitors. You feared that if you kept persistently rejecting them, someone of them might soon break down your door.
He was quiet for a long moment, and presented a solution that, he warned you, you wouldn't appreciate.
"The only solution I can offer, is my protection." He said softly, holding your gaze firmly, his expression one of sympathy. You sighed, peering down into your cup, staring at your reflection in your tea. He was your last hope. It was as if you were destined to be married of this early, robbed of the chance to live a free life. "Alas, such is the fate of orphans." Your meek, timid whisper chipped at his heart. "I, too, am an orphan. That is the reason I understand your sorrow."
And that is the reason you connected. The reason you agreed. The wedding ceremony followed soon after that night. Ayato had told you beforehand that he does not
Warnings: canon divergence, graphic descriptions (curses and fight scenes), vulgar language, sexual themes.
Note: reader is implied fem bodied, but I'll avoid using pronouns for the sake of inclusivity. Don't come @ me if you see the occasional she/her, I probably forgot to fix it or something.
There was a flash of white, a spark, and then it ignited, skin numbed from the chilly December winds nipping at the warmth of your flesh. An electrifying shiver running up your spine, leaving a lasting sense of paralysis in its wake. One moment you were fine, the next, you're not even sure if what's happening is real.
It's as if the universe slowed down, the blinding headlights racing straight towards you, where once you could hear a chaotic cacophony, all you hear now is an incessant ringing.
Skin blooming with warmth, and the chilly winds robbing it with fervour. The world flips on its head, and you're left staring into the inverted vision, falling farther and farther away from where you once were.
'What is happening?' you question in your mind, staring in shock as your friends race towards the edge of the railing in slow motion, reaching over to try and grab your hand futilely, tears streaming down their cheeks and their horror-stricken face. You see their lips part to scream, the veins in their necks and arms and face protruding from the volume, and yet you hear none of it.
Not the crash, not the screams, nor the world. Only your own heartbeat pounding in your chest.
It felt like an eternity, the few moments that followed, and then suddenly, the world returned to it's natural motion and you realized, you're falling. But before you can make sense of anything else, you crash, and excruciating pain explodes in every fiber of your body. The concrete and gravel digs into your flesh, puncturing your sensitive, fragile skin, and all you can do is whimper. A feeble, pathetic sound from the depth of your gut, pitchy and weak. Tears spill over your cheeks and you wish the agony would end.
You lay utterly incapacitated on the ground, blurred vision shifting in and out of focus, until a messy mop of dark hair enters your vision. A person.
They seem frantic, hurried. You blink back at them slowly, trying your best to stay awake and not sob. In fact, you're not even sure if you have the strength for that. The exhaustion hits you all at once, and your eyes slowly flutter shut. The last thing you register was a soft, gentle voice asking you to stay awake, and the prettiest bluebells staring into your eyes.
-
You awake with a start. Eyes snapping open, heart pounding fiercely away in your chest, you could practically feel your blood pumping in your veins. Your mind slowly wakes up, registering your environment, the colours, the shapes and finally the sounds.
The ringing remains, slowly fading out, replaced by the sounds of beeping, birds chirping, distant footsteps, and faint murmuring.
'Where am I?' you blinked, trailing your eyes along the ceiling to the walls, registering the white curtain, a blanket, a heartbeat monitor, wires, the scent of chemical disinfectant and chlorine. The sunlights filters in through the white curtains, it's warmth heating up your cold, unfeeling legs. The door creaks open and the sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor follow, until beside your bed stood a beautiful woman. She seemed tired, from the bags under her eyes, but her voice was gentle, her eyes kind, almost a little awed.
She asks you something, you hear her, but you can't make sense of anything. It's as if your brain no longer registers speech. She's talking to you, you understand that, but, 'what is she saying?'
The woman stares back at you, then sighs and nods, holding out her finger as if to tell you to wait, and then she strides out of the room, leaving you alone again. The silence is deafening. Yet your mind is empty. You try to recall what happened, anything that could remind you where you are or how you got here, but just as you're about to close your eyes, the door opens again and another pair of footsteps follows. The beautiful lady returns with a man, much taller and paler. The man approached your bed side, hands in his pockets as he stared down at you with an unreadable expression. His swirling cerulean eyes stare into yours and you stare back.
"Can you hear me?" He asks, his voice low and soft.
You stared back at him for a long moment, parting your lips to release a breath before mustering your strength, "Yes." You rasped, voice hoarse and cracking.
The man smiles a little and pulls up a chair, sitting down on it, crossing his arms over the backrest as he studied you. You stare back at him.
"Do you know where you are?" He asks, and you pause. Peering back up at the ceiling, then over at the beautiful lady, her chocolate eyes studying you, her hands in her white coat. You blinked, turning back to the white haired man. "Hos-...pital?" You croaked, and he nodded.
"Do you know how you got here?" He asks again.
It takes a few moments for your brain to register his question properly, and you take a minute to remember, and yet nothing comes up. He takes your prolonged silence as your answer and nods. "Do you remember your name?"
You uttered it softly, staring up at the ceiling, eyes heavy and exhausted. And before you could even properly introduce yourself, your eyes flutter shut and you fall asleep.
-
The next time you awake, you wake slowly. Eyes fluttering open and registering your environment. But you notice, you're not by yourself at the moment. From the corner of your eyes, you spot a messy mop of dark hair, and those familiar bluebells, the collar of his shirt raised high to cover the lower half of his mouth as he peaks at you from around the door frame. When he notices you're awake, he hesitantly steps into the room. His voice is soft, gentle, but you have no idea what he's saying. It takes you a full minute to realize, he's speaking Japanese.
You sighed, and with great difficulty, pushed yourself to sit up. Limbs hot and burning, as if you have a fever, but tingly and buzzing as if just recovering from some kind of paralysis. You're covered in bandages from head to toe, it's a little unsettling to see. You glance back up at the boy just in time to see him scurry back into the room, bringing the white haired man from last time in tow.
"Yo! You're awake again!" He greets cheerfully, spinning the chair by your bedside to sit next to you again. You blinked at him, a little startled by his enthusiasm. "Yes, hello again." Your voice is soft and timid almost, still hoarse since you only just woke up.
The man smiles, using his thumb to lift the bandages over his eyes a little to wink at you. You blinked back at him. "So, how ya feelin' today? Gonna pass out on me again?"
He's obviously teasing, but you can't help but flush a little. "Better, thank you. And no, I won't pass out again, I hope." Silence engulfs the room for a minute, and the dark haired boy speaks up, talking to the white haired man, they converse for a bit in Japanese, before the white haired man returns his attention to you again. "The name's Gojo, this here is Okkotsu. He found you half dead on the side walk in the middle of the street. Do you remember anything about that?"
You blinked, looking down at your lap as you try to recall. You sighed, feeling a headache blooming. "Yes, I think I got hit by a car... Then, I fell off the side of the highway..."
"Damn," was all he said, relaying what you said to the dark haired boy.
"Where am I?" You asked softly, lifting your eyes from your lap to his swirling ceruleans. He let the silence linger for a moment, staring right back at you, a small, empty smile playing at his soft looking lips. "Jujutsu High, Tokyo."
You furrowed your brows at him, "I beg your pardon? Did you just say Tokyo??"
He nodded, standing up to pull the curtains to the side. The bright sunlight flooded in, blinding you for a minute, until your vision adjusted and you looked out the window to find an unfamiliar scenery; a snow covered field, with tall towering buildings in the near distance.
"What the- you're joking. You're joking!" You insisted, in utter denial. How the hell does one get yeeted to the other side of the world by a car accident!? Gojo sees your turmoil and sits down on the edge of your bed, patting your blanket covered legs. "Hey, relax. Or else your cursed energy is gonna overload."
You take a few deep breaths and try to calm down, "You're right... Wait what? Energy overload?" You asked, utterly baffled, those terms sounded familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on where you'd heard them before.
"...oh dear, you have no idea do you?" Gojo asks, his eyes a little wide.
-
Gojo briefly explains cursed energy to you, and amidst his explanation, you realize you're screwed. Not because you're in Tokyo, but because you're in an anime. One of the worst kind of anime, the type where even surviving the day is questionable. Sure, the cast is sexy but so is being alive. It takes a bit but you try and explain to Gojo that you're not from around here, and he seems to get that you're a foreigner (obviously, because you don't speak Japanese) but not that you're an outlander or whatever the the word is. "So, this is a school for mutants like in the X-Men?" You asked finally with a sigh, sipping your cup of tea slowly.
"More or less." Satoru plainly says, aggressively twirling his teaspoon. "But what am I doing here? Shouldn't I have been taken to an average, or normal human hospital?" You asked, turning to face him, slowly swinging your legs back and forth a little as they dangled just above the floor, off the edge of the bed.
"I'll try to keep this simple, you got a very strong aura. If Yuuta had taken you to an average hospital, you wouldn't have made the night, and would've gotten eaten up by some curse."
"Great, just great. Amazing. First I get slammed by a car, yeeted off a cliff, transported to a whole different ass country on another side of the world, and now deranged monsters wanna eat me. What's next, having a demon inside me?" You huffed, gripping your hair as you held your head, the world was moving too fast, everything was happening at once and you just couldn't keep up. You felt the tears of frustration well up and tried to stop them, but just couldn't. Despitefully your daydreams of being and OP character in any such anime, you're not. Your a pathetic, normal human being, not even healthy enough to jump out of a car's way, how the hell will you survive this?
Gojo watched you intently, even as you curled up into a helpless little ball and broke down. There is no place in this world for the weak. That was his motto, and you? You were perhaps the weakest little creature he's ever laid his eyes on. So he stands up, turns his back to you and stares out the window. Yuuta scrambled over to your side to somehow comfort you, despite not understanding what just happened. He pats your head, sits beside you and puts a cautious arm around you in a half embrace, whispering soothing things softly near your ear. You don't know what he's saying, but his kindness helps you calm a little.
Your mind is still reeling, racing, but this is an opportunity, you reason, a chance. You played the generic NPC in your world, in your life. Now is a chance to be the main character, now is the chance to live out a fantasy. Why not take it? You pat Yuuta's hand kindly in gratitude, then turn to stare at Gojo's back.
He feels your stare, and glanced back at you from over his shoulder, out of the corner of his eyes. And he can't look away. Bloodshot, swollen eyes, tear-stained cheeks, trembling bottom lip, yet an insatiable hunger in those eyes. A hint of madness, with a speck of fear.
These are the tentative names of a few fics I'm working on. The isekai ones have parts so I'll update a few parts in a row for those. Otherwise I'll work on oneshots
These are the tentative names of a few fics I'm working on. The isekai ones have parts so I'll update a few parts in a row for those. Otherwise I'll work on oneshots
Could you do the Sumeru boys hc for when the reader is sick with like the flu (if you don’t wanna do all of them can you do kaveh or alhaitham, maybe do them together?)
Wholesome, cavity inducing, tooth-rotting fluff
Fem reader x sumeru Bois!
Tighnari
Knows before you do. He could practically smell your sore throat during the night while you were fast asleep, cuddled up in his arms. He takes full precautions. Rubs and ointment on your throat and under your nose to prevent any nasal blockage since he knows you hate it when your nosey is clogged. He starts a soothing incense to ensure you get a restful sleep. He burrito wraps you in an extra blanket, all during the night and cuddles you till morning. Grumbling all night long about how he needs to keep a closer eye on you now. But don't worry he loves it. 10/10 would make you feel like you were never sick to begin with.
Cyno
Oblivious fool number 1. Had no idea you were sick until he found you passed out with a high ass fever in the middle of the living room. And then, panic. Panic to the max. He thought you were dying and immediately brings you to the hospital. Despite his intellect, he's very dense sometimes. After the doctor tells him it's a mild flu, he calms, but then he's furious. "You've been sick for days and didn't tell me? When did you start keeping things from me, my love?" Then comes the emotional blackmailing. Of course he spoils you rotten with comfort food, cuddles and terrible jokes that somehow still make you snort even when you're brain isn't really functioning enough to understand them. 6/10 for being a dense fool at first, but he's cute and corny and doesn't let you feel bad about being sick because of his horrible jokes.
Alhaitham
Oblivious fool number 2. He'd noticed you were acting a little unusual, a little more sluggish than normal. But thought nothing of it and dismissed it as you being on your monthly or something. Oh boy was he wrong. It wasnt until he came home one evening, fully expecting his hug and kiss at the door, to find the house hauntingly quiet. He calls out to you once, twice. And when he heard your quiet, meek little greeting he finally understood. Instead of feeling bad about not realising that you were sick, he starts scolding you for not telling him. "Were you expecting the spirit of Greater Lord Rukkhadevata to come and tell me that you were suffering? Honestly, I thought you were smart enough to realise when to take breaks, but no. It appears we need to go over basics, again." He's like a fussy mother hen with a dash of drunken denial. Like he'll give you a scolding of your life time but also kiss your cheeks and hold you in his arms while spoon-feeding you. 6/10, love the princess treatment, but tone down the motherly nagging for the love of God.
Kaveh
Mother hen x10. He knows the moment you let out a sigh deeper than usual. He'll hover over you for a good few hours and just watch you closely for anything to prove his paranoia and when you do, he's fussing. Not the annoying disappointed mother kind of fussing, but the sentimental girlfriend kind of fussing. "Are you warm enough? Your throat hurts? Oh my sweet dear, stay still, I'll be right back with your soup! You don't need to lift a finger, I'll take care of you okay?" His hands are shaking the entire time, and he's dropped more than a few dishes in the process but that's okay. It's the thought that counts. He's trying his best okay? Just lay back and let him smother you in affection and love, only to get sick himself the next day so now both of you are cuddled up together, and sick. Overall 9/10 because he's just so sweet and loving.
Warnings: mentions of violence, decapitation, blood, injuries, death, minor character death, graphic descriptions
You stared at the sun setting in the horizon, sitting perfectly still on the smooth boulder, surrounded by the soothing sound of nature. The river rushing endlessly, birds settling back into their nests in the last few flickers of light, the gentle swish and sway of leaves on the wind. Closing your eyes, you focused intensely inwards.
Aware.
Taking a deep inhale, you felt the vibrations of every living and moving creature around you. The slightest twitch in the wings of sparrows, rippling waves in the pond, even the falling of a tiny autumn colored maple leaf that brushes past your curled fist. You were aware of everything around you.
And in control. Rising from where you sat cross-legged on the smooth boulder in the middle of the river, you stand lightly on your toes. Fluttering your eyes open, adjusting to the darkening sky, the brillant moon hanging in the heavens above you.
It's time to hunt.
Curling your fingers around the hilt of your nichirin blade, you take a deep breath before swiftly leaping off the boulder and rushing head first into the lions den.
There are four demons in this forest, all about equally strong, lower level demons.
Your hand holding the scabbard tightens as you ready to slash, legs striding through the dense vegitation at an almost in humane speed. Sensing one close by, you take a deep breath, eyes focused on the trail and locking onto the horrendous monstrosity a few meters away. Leaping off the forest floor, you ready yourself, aiming for it's neck, easily falling into first form.
Upon sensing your presence, the demon shrieks and lurches back, it's faster than you anticipated, still, your nichirin blades sliced halfway through its entire torso. Before it could recover you quickly spin on your heel, slicing it's head off in the blink of an eye. The decapitated demon flops to the ground with a resounding thud, shrieking after you. Calling you all sorts of names, you pay it no heed.
Slashing the vile creatures blood of your blade, you sheath it before dashing back into the forest. Three more demons to kill. As you tread deeper into the woods, the trails become more prominent and easier to follow. One of these demons is stronger than the other two. Your eyes narrow as you spot two of them meandering about around the outskirts of the village. This time, they sense you faster than the previous demon and appear to be ready to attack. You draw your blade, aiming for the neck of the one nearest to you, your speed adding strength to your swing. The force behind it causes the trees in the near distance to sway, yet the demon managed to narrowly evade. In the meantime the second shoots at you, lunging straight for your head.
Inhaling deeply, you fall into form, dodging it's first attack, but as your about to cut it's neck, the first demon appears behind you. In an instant you change your stance and slash an angled full circumference, lopping off one of the attacking demons arms, and nearly entirely slicing the neck of the second. Without a moment wasted you bring your blade down on the first demon on the ground, then lunge after the second which'd taken the opportunity to try an escape. It's fast.
Still, using every strength in your legs you manage to slice off one of its legs half way, causing the demon to stumble to the forest floor, allowing you to swiftly decapitate it. Using the moment from your chase you continue after the final demon.
You'd overestimated it's strength. As weak as the other three, or perhaps weaker? You'd swiftly decapitated the fourth and final demon in mere moments. Paying no heed to its wails and cries as it slowly disintegrated into ash, still your turn around, casting the pitiful creature one last glance. In the glow of the moonlight, when they cry like this, they almost look human.
Your Kasugai crow cries loudly in the night, over the crying of the nearly gone demon, your crow informs you of Ubuyashiki's summoning. Acknowledging it's message, you hurry it back homeward.
Casting it one last blank look, you watch as it fades away. The tears streaming down from it's big, sad eyes let's you know of it's acceptance, when they flutter shut and the creature vanishes on the wind.
You sighed, turing to head back to headquarters, deciding to pay your friends a little visit on your way there.
The sunlight peaks over the cottony clouds, the first light of dawn illuminating the mountain trail as you follow the familiar path.
You hear a familiar cry of your name, raising your gaze, you spot Kanae waving enthusiastically in the distance with Shinobu at her side, the shorter girl stood with her arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. You smile, jogging up to meet your friends.
"Welcome back!" Kanae greets warmly. Shinobu cringes at the smell of ash and blood on you, tugging at your haori, encouraging you silently to take it off. "You stink,"
You chuckle, shrugging the clothing off, handing it to the girl who folded it over her arm and retreated down the trail, heading back to the secluded cottage. You call out a thank you for her as Kanae loops her arm around yours and the two of you turned to follow the younger, making your way to your masters home.
"How did the mission go?" The lively girl smiled at your side, resting her head on your shoulder. You chuckle, patting the top of her head, "Quite well. They were all low level demons, although they seemed intelligent, I didn't quite find that out," you hum thoughtfully, recalling the village dwellers recounts of their pattern of attack. Kanae hums, "Still, this is probably a new record for you. You were only gone a day and a half!"
"Really? Felt like forever on the train to me," you deadpan, recalling the boring ride to and from the village.
"Really," upon arriving at Urokodaki's house, you greet your master with a deep respectful bow. He acknowledged you with a nod and a greeting, welcoming you inside. Kanae had detached herself from your arm but still grabbed your hand. You gave it a reassuring squeeze as you started talking about the food and service of the train.
You spent the morning at your masters place, catching him up to speed on the developments of the Hashira's ranks and your recent mission. "I was hoping to find some clues considering the reports, unfortunately it turned out to be regular lowly demons." You said with a sigh, gaze fixed on your reflection in your cup of tea. Urokodaki hums thoughtfully, nursing his own cup of tea.
"The demon accomplice you speak of," he starts, garnering your attention, "Have you made any contact with her at all yet? Other than those of her underlings," he asks.
You purse your lips and furrow your brows. "If you mean a direct confrontation, then no. I've yet to even catch a glimpse of her shadow." You answer, thoughtfully contemplating the idea. "She's quite similar to 'that bastard' in this aspect-" your sentence is interrupted by Kanae spitting out her tea, coughing into her sleeve as she stifled her laughs. You huff, a smile curling at your lips noting her red cheeks and flustered eyes.
"Do continue," Urokodaki urges, paying his students no mind.
"Right. As I was saying, she's hiding."
Taking a long, cautious sip of your tea, you close your eyes, allowing the warm liquid to soothe down the length of your throat, warming your chest, leaving a sweet tingle on your tongue and a desperation for more.
"Although..."
Your master keeps his pointed stare fixated on you, silent encouragement to complete your thoughts.
"I have encountered many of her underlings so far, and each one seems stronger than the last. They call themselves her apostles, blasphemous as it is, I can't help this sinking thought that perhaps," at this point your voice has lowered down to partially audible mumbles. Your master, familiar with your speech habits, still hears you loud and clear, but doesn't interrupt your thoughts.
"The frequency of my run-ins with her underlings in comparison to everyone else isn't something you can chalk up to coincidence."
"Are you insinuating that her minions are specifically targetting you?"
"It's a possibility."
Sakonji considers the facts and the theory, giving the idea a long contemplative moment as he regards you. "It's a credible theory, considering how many of both hers and Muzan's minions you've killed."
You nod along, placing down your now empty cup, feeling tired from your successive missions, and plaguing, intrusive thoughts.
"Tumultuous thoughts aside," your master begins softly, drawing your attention, but not your gaze. "How has your health been? Any episodes?" He asks kindly. You smile, reassuring him, "I've been quite well actually. My breathing style allows me to fully utilise my lungs without straining my heart. I've yet to experience any seizures, other than the occasional chest pangs."
"You should consider consulting a licensed physician. Corps medical treatment won't save you if your heart acts up."
You nod, affirming the idea, and reassure him that you'll act upon it soon. He knows you won't actually, but appreciates the politeness nonetheless.
With a sigh, you stand up, asking your master for permission to head out. He nods, wishing you safe travels as you gathering your things, collecting your Haori from Shinobu as she'd rinsed and hung it out this entire time. It being just past midday, you bow one last time at your master before turning around, and in the blink of an eye, you disappear.
"I'll never get used to seeing her do that,"
"...my brain hurts trying to process it everytime she does,"
-
Uzui and Shinazugawa are the first to greet and welcome you, loudly calling your name as Tengen welcomed you back with a harsh slap on your back, causing you to lurch a step forward. You almost choke from the force and glare up at him, causing both him and Sanemi to start laughing at your expression.
"I don't see what you find quite so humourous," You state in mock bitterness, biting back a laugh yourself. Tengen only pinches and tugs at your cheeks, "Don't give me that look. You're too soft to be angry," he cooed making mocking baby sounds, which only infuriated you.
The hashira meeting went swiftly, after which you were lazing on the engawa at the Ubuyashiki's estate, your head on his lap as his fingers carded through your hair. Kagaya softly calls your name, and you hum in response.
"How have you been recently?" He asked gently, "More specifically, how is your heart?"
You flutter your eyes open, your waving leg halting still as your finger subconsciously reach for your chest. "Well, actually." You say quietly. Kagaya hums, a smile curling at his lips, "I'm glad to hear you're in good health," he starts, "but you must remember not to overexert yourself,"
Your eyes flutter at that, gaze unfocused as you stare into oblivion. He's absolutely right, you're too valuable to the corps. Too important to be sacrificed or thrown away so easily. To the rest of the hashira's your life is almost as valuable as Kagaya's.
Darkness encased your vision and you stiffen, Kagaya's gentle and soft hand covered your eyes, "More than just as an asset," he adds, breaking your train of thoughts. He calls your name tenderly, "You are not a weapon, nor anything of the sort. You are first my family, my friend, and my responsibility. I would rather fight Muzan with you beside me, than walk over his corpse without you,"
You let out a shaky breath, feeling yourself soften under his gentle touch and tender words. 'Dont be deluded,' Yuuka's voice rings in your head. 'To him, to the corps, you are a means to an end. Do not fall for their false assurances.'
She's right. You are here for the sole purpose of destroying the outlander who invaded this universe and has been tempering with the timeline. You must not allow yourself to be distracted or swayed by any means necessary.
"Of course," you purr, vibrant, mischievous eyes glaring right into Ubuyashiki's light and visionless ones.
-
The night is still, eerily so. You sat on the engawa of your mansion, staring up at the full moon. The lingering feeling of dread crawling over your skin. A knock on the door beckons your attention and you turn to find your friends.
You rise, closing the garden Shoji as you join them inside. Hayate and Mirai, two of your closest friends from your early days of becoming a demon slayer, were heading out for a mission. Niwa and Mamoru had been dispatched a few days ago and should be returning in a week's time. For the time being, it'll be you all by your lonesome. Nonetheless you gave both of them a firm hug and a harsh slap on the back.
"It'll be a short trip, we'll be back before you know it." Hayate reassured, gathering his Nichrin blade and heading for the main door where your Tsuguko stood at attention.
Mirai gives the two students a soft pat on the head on her way out, waving enthusiastically at you as the pair walked off. You gave them a calm smile, waving back, "I'll be expecting you for dinner then!" You call out loudly.
"You better have the shrimp the way I like!" She yells back, finally turning around as the two disappear down the street. You chuckle to yourself, turning back to head inside.
"Ayame, Ayato," you greet, the two boys bow in respect and clamber after you eagerly. "Master! We'll set the dinner table!" The older, Ayame states, scurrying into the building, his younger brother following behind him calling out for their little sister Aina. You stare at their receding figures fondly, pulling your hand fan out of your yukata.
A sudden chill down your spine causes you to freeze, eyes snapping at the open shoji as a particularly strong gusts of wind blows in, throwing the doors open and tousing the wind chimes violently, faintly hearing the boys and kakushi ambling about to close the windows in case it rains. Your keen eyes observe, from behind the hand fan, the single leaf fluttering through, staring intensely as it sways and dances until it touches the ground.
'What are you thinking?' Yuuka asks, drawing your attention away from the blood stained leaf. You blink, stalking over to close the shoji, 'Nothing.'
-
You follow the trail quietly. The sun just about to disappear on the horizon as its last beams of light flicker and bleed into darkness. Your kasugai crow flying overhead, alerting you when the village comes into view. It was late in summer, almost autumn. So when the leaves fell they were stained extraordinary shades of orange, ranging from honeyed hues to bronze and some even gold. They crunch with a loud and satisfying sound echoing in the cool, crisp air. Yet you halt in your path. Not sensing any hostility or bloodlust on the air, you scan the area quickly before starting back on your path.
'Yuuka.'
What? The voice responds in your head.
'What am I looking for?' You ask the girl. There follows a moment of silence before she responds.
Death. She says, her voice solemn and low. You have the ability to see the trail of death. Follow it, and you shall find her minions. She explained.
When you woke up at Ubuyashiki's estate years ago, you had come to realise that each time you supposedly die, you bare some form of consequence in your reanimation. In your previous lifetime, Muzan had hunted you down and killed you, pierced your chest and pulled out your heart, right before you very eyes. As a result, in this life, your heart is incredibly weak, the slightest of overexertion will have you wheezing, struggling to stay alive. The pain of such episodes is almost as bad as Urokodaki's training. Almost.
Yuuka is the name of the Miko who was used to summon you into this world. Her soul is bounded to yours, she lives and dies with you. It is thanks to her spiritual power that you've managed to live this long in this world, and her spiritual power that revives you everytime you die.
'Yuuka, do you not resent your family?' You asked her. 'They used you, like a weapon, an object, a sacrifice. Does it not bother you?'
They did not abandon or discard me. Indeed, I may have been sacrificed, but the descision was mine. I chose to be your vessel.
You felt a little touched at that for some reason and smile a little to youself. But your giddiness is cut short when you catch whiff of a demon nearby. You ready your weapon, hand curling around the scabbard firmly. You drop low before launching into a full speed sprint, chasing down the trail of the demon. You could see its presence, visually observe and follow the path it took and before long, you happen upon it.
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