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yxstxrdrxxm · 8 months

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SYNOPSIS: Kazuha, a well-known tailor in Inazuma, had a spouse. It's only a shame that his spouse is known for their 'infidelity' in his eyes. [ songfic ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking, minor and major character death/s, emotional manipulation in a way, gore, violence, fire/arson, sewing... questionable fabric, unreliable narrator, shifting POVs, dead dove: do not eat, dollification, delusional thinking, Kazuha progressively loses it till the end, beheading, oh God this fic and tws are long Im so sorry―

NOTE: During the fic, it is recommended to listen to "The Tailor of Enbizaka". It will make sense when you read through this fic :)

(also, I apologize if this took a while for me to write. I got busy and writer's block hit me :( anyways, second work and its the best boy! Though, I hope you all don't blame me for fucking him up. Also also!! This is very much a long, LONG fic— like 2k+ long, so 🫡 gl soldier, I'll see if I don't need to make this to a 2 part series)

(update: this fic took 6k words, good luck y'all, this one is a WILD ride)

In Inazuma, there is a tale that is shared by many about a crimson clad man and his lover.

The others never settled on what he looked during the day before his death, nor were they sure what his prior job was before he became a tailor. However, they always complimented him for his looks and his skill, knowing that whatever he used as his own special fabric would be tailored and taken care of well.

Even with one full of holes and tears, he is gifted with the ability to patch them up till it was brand new. In the village he lived in, he was regarded for having such a talent, and he had his shop open and full of visitors.

However, the only thing that made people question him was his behavior. Despite how mild-manner the tailor was, he often comments on how his beloved darling refused to come home and continues to cheat on him.

Many those that still lived during the time said the crimson-eyed tailor acted delusional, but just how far can those delusions go?

No one knows but the man himself... And the one who persecuted him, too.

It was that year since I've seen my beloved after the accident.

A year that, when I saw them, I've longed to see them and speak to them about our time together as a married couple.

To begin with, I am Kaedehara Kazuha, or― as the townsfolk here call me, the 'Crimson-Eyed Tailor'. Although I am highly regarded for my craftsmanship, many told me that I am odd for my adoration for my beloved maple.

Why is it that odd? I thought all married couples do this, even if some think that it feels off.

Besides that, however, my darling isn't quite aware of my... Endeavors. More specifically, their streak of getting out for hours, perhaps days and weeks, and not even coming around to speak to me.

I am bound to them by an oath when we were married: we both drank sake together under that faithful light of the moon, with only nature watching over us. However, it would seem as if they have forgotten that, and ended up cheating on me in broad daylight.

Like they had no such shame.

Alas, I am but their husband, and I can't simply get mad at my beloved spouse. I know they did no wrong, for they sometimes meet with others as an act of being 'friendly'.

So while I focused on fixing the kimono, I've began to hear something that had been passed around in the village.

Something related to my darling's little ventures.

"I have spoken to [Name] about the matters in their marriage recently," one of the ladies spoke, her voice not so soft enough to conceal who she was speaking about as I fixed the fabric in my hands.

"And from what they told me, they're getting their kimono fixed for when their lover returns home!"

I simply continued on sewing, but the lady's next words had me flinch.

"Ah, they've been married for years, aren't they? And it seems they even have their shiromuku ever since their marriage to sir Kamisato Ayato. How romantic!"

...

The blood continues to spill on my finger, with the needle that I used pricking it when I've lost focus and got too careless.

How uncouth.

From the tale shared by the folks of Narukami Island, they talked about the crimson-eyed tailor's marriage with his supposed 'spouse': an immigrant of sorts from Fontaine, traversing to Inazuma to meet with their lover.

Their relationship together is strange. From the accounts of those with prying eyes, they said that he was the only one putting an effort to their relationship, and they wished to take it slow.

However, there are those that disagreed, saying that it had been the other way around— and it was he who wished for them to slow down.

No one can decide what the tailor had done, for they can't even tell if his desires were to rush or to slow down. But what can be confirmed is one thing everyone kept saying.

He doesn't like his trust being broken.

It had been days after hearing what I did.

I hadn't seen my dearest beloved in those days, and the day I saw them had been when the heir of the Kamisato clan had returned.

I had been busy as ever in sewing till I realized that I'm running out of thread. I don't have any spares, and I'm well aware that there are a few shops that sell supplies for sewing.

And so, on a lazy afternoon, I've got out of my shop in the hopes that I can catch the store to buy the supplies I needed.

The soft sound of wood hitting the pavement greeted my ears, alongside hushed murmuring and discussing with the commonfolk. I greeted a few that noticed me in passing, but they were swift to return to the people they were speaking to prior.

It was a mundane thing, really. But it was the type that felt familiar.

Turning a few corners, I managed to locate the shop I was looking for. Walking up the stairs, I waved at the lady taking care of the store—

—not before my ears perked up at the soft chattering in the distance.

My eyes trailed over to the source, and then, I see them.

My beloved maple.

I saw that they were conversing with the heir of the Kamisato clan, his hand reaching over to hand them a small gift: a small box, with the ribbon being the color of purple. I spot the gleam of gold on top of the ribbon, which eludes me to think that it is the insigna of the clan crested in gold.

How tacky.

I had to hold back the urge to stop them as their conversation was hard to discern, my focus back on the woman running the shop with the supplies I require.

"Hello, madame," I greeted, making the woman smile and nod in greeting as well. "Do you need fabric again, Kaedehara?"

I chuckled, but it was only to mask the bits of instability in my voice.

"Oh, not fabric, madame. I simply desire thread. I have ran out of red and black, and I didn't want to delay the commission I had from monsieur Lyney. Do you have any right now?"

"Red and black thread, hm? I can check at the back. Please give me a moment to look."

With a bow, the seamstress turned around to leave. With that, I let go of the breath I held and turned my gaze back to the bridge, just a few ways away from where my beloved sunset was at.

Watching the two figures, I couldn't help but simply stared at the attire that the heir wore.

Montsuki Haori Hakama: that usually means black or gray. I've known that colored kimonos were not worn with this in mind, and he certainly didn't wore anything that would be too straining.

Still, that shade of black is made of high quality. I'm not surprised if he wore it so rarely, as though to preserve the detail and its intricate work from his very own seamstress.

...

I wonder if I can take it?

Watching the two descend from the bridge, my eyes wandered back to the lady as she returned with the spools of thread, all varying in degrees of color and quality.

"Here you are, Kaedehara! These are the best I can find that fit the colors you asked for."

My eyes twinkled as I took the spools to my hands, my fingers turning and nudging the thread to see just how strong it is.

Interesting. Good quality, too... Maybe I can use this to finish that outfit I've been saving for a while.

"Thank you, madame," I thanked her, making her laugh. "Oh, it's not a problem, Kaedehara! You've done so much for this little town of ours, this is but a simple thing to repay for your efforts!"

With a nod, I paid the seamstress and turned back down to descend from the bustling upper part of the town, the sight of what happened in the bridge a bit further away bothering me from within.

No matter, Kazuha, I mused, carrying the items I required as I felt myself walk back home. Even if you want to get rid of him, it will be much too complicated. You simply need to be patient and wait till the opportunity comes.

...

Although, whoever made his clothes... I wonder if I can speak to them to inquire about their techniques.

The first case that started this was a cold one.

One that is related to a person no one knew so highly about, be it by their background, appearance, and even their name. All they were known for is being the 'tailor' for one of the clans.

There had been a lack of evidence and information about this due to how many tailors had been requested all across Inazuma at the time. It was understandable that people chalked up to them being missing as nothing more than an unfortunate case, not one worthy of being dug into.

Others had suspected that it had been associated with something else, that something (or someone) had done this deliberately. There was no evidence to this, but their claims were loud as they were bold, making it difficult to ascertain its authenticity.

However, the masses have all agreed that this was a normal occurrence. It was not one worth noting, because there had been a lot more that spoke of the same tale, always eluding to their fate being that they were murdered.

It was, unfortunately, the 'norm' of the village in the legend. A norm that, if the people of Inazuma heard it today, would have turned their heads in disgust for how abhorrent it sounds.

Still, many remained curious of the biggest what if that seem to echo in their mind.

Was the tailor associated with his sins?

The Kamisato clan has had it's ups and downs, and it isn't strange to see that they were seeking out talented tailors and workers to work under them.

What was surprising (to everyone), however, was that the head of the clan hired me to work as the Kamisato Clan's personal tailor.

The reasoning behind it was quite simple, especially with what the heir spoke to me when he and I met in the morning when I was to be summoned in the estate— due to his personal tailor (a family friend, he said) going missing for days, they were unable to track down his whereabouts and presumed that he has gone missing.

I was only hired as a "replacement" for the clan's special tailor till then, and he made it extremely clear that there was nothing else to it. Nothing that would spell the fact that I will permanently stay in that position.

Of course, to many, this may sound as an odd deal. There are so many tailors such as myself that would die to be consulted on, to work as the head of the clan's seamstress and work for their outfits. And perhaps, in their naivety, they may consider it as their efforts finally paying off in some way.

However, I have been in a clan myself before. This is nothing more if not a business deal.

A deal between one rising clan, and one whose surname has lost it's widely known heritage.

This only benefits the Kamisato Clan in the effort to save face. To save face of the potential backlash they'll deal with should any information of the missing clan's tailor be brought to light to everyone who remain blissfully ignorant of the innerworkings of the clan.

I would normally deny this kind of offer, mostly because there is no benefit for me to join and work for them. However, times have changed, and I simply reconsidered denying Kamisato Ayato's offer.

... There is a few benefits to me joining. It may be minimal, but it is better than scrounging around in the dark.

And so, I agreed to the offer.

The arrangements set for me to move was quite swift. I'm aware that that he is a man of his word, so it was quite easy for us to prepare my living arrangements and move to the estate.

With the supplies I get from the clan, it's been easy to stay put and gather information to the person I'm targeting.

... That was, until that day came.

I remember it clearly: it was the ends of fall, where the maple leaves fell more and more around the estate's grounds. This usually signified the coming of winter, so I usually savor the season by having time off to admire the scenery.

And in one of my walks, I had travelled from outside of the estate to see if things have changed.

Which, to my luck, I've encountered my darling beloved.

But just like last time, they were not alone.

In the journey of my wandering, I have seen them speak to the sibling of the older heir, Kamisato Ayaka, as they sit on the table outside of the Komore Teahouse.

From how far I am to the entrance of the teahouse, it gives me enough space to watch them interact like friends. The way that the Himegimi raised her fan to cover her face, perhaps from her eyes crinkling in amusement from what they told her...

... It was intriguing. Very intriguing.

So much so that I've felt the claws of envy grip in my chest, clutching its metal nails and making punctures on my already bleeding heart.

What a nuisance. Must you hurt me like this, darling?

I can hardly remember what happened after that. After all, my focus had been set on the two speaking to each other like they were simply companions, unknowing of what fate may bring upon them.

...

"Oh? Kazuha! I didn't notice you came to the Teahouse as well!"

My attention was swiftly pulled away from the sight of my dearest gem, and it landed on the familiar sight of olive eyes. From the appearance alone, many wouldn't think that an immigrant of Mondstadt would be a fixer.

Not even I would be able to see it happen.

However, this man had the skills to prove of his worth— after all, being Inazuma's 'fixer', he's often the go-to man to fix any and every problem that the Narukami Island and others may face.

Which makes him a glass canon— one that is volatile and unpredictable, even under the guise of a friendly face.

That is what Thoma is.

But this "glass cannon" has his weakness, and I know how to use it to my advantage.

Letting a smile slip to my lips, I chuckled, raising my hand to cover my mouth. "Well, I've been foretold by others about Komore Teahouse and it's history. I've been meaning to visit it, but I'm so busy fixing kimonos and making them to have time to spare."

A white lie, but then again, there are many of those that have been foretold in the waking of this world.

What does adding one do at this point? I'm already damned by the heavens the day I've seen the 'truth' of this fate of mine.

Just one lie wouldn't hurt, right?

"Haha, I can't blame you," the taller blonde seem to answer my query with his own, albeit he did seem to look more like he was at ease. Still, I needed to be weary; he can change sides if he so much as sensed that something is wrong.

"After all, with what the missing tailor in the clan circulating around the others in the estate, I'm even surprised that you manage to fill up in their position for months!"

... Oh? So he's noticed my talents, hm?

I shook my head.

"Oh, please. I'm just a humble tailor, Thoma," I reasoned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have thought of asking them for advice on how they do their work, but since they're missing, all I can do is substitute for their absence."

He gave me an apologetic smile and nodded.

"That is true... I guess I'm just a bit too ecstatic to finally have someone that can fill in their role seamlessly. Lord Kamisato Ayato would've been panicking if we didn't have a replacement soon for his anniversary with his spouse."

... Spouse, huh?

"Hm... Is that so?"

I frowned in thought as I ponder over wanting to... Ask him for a favor. Sure, this one wouldn't do well on one's conscious mind if they knew, but it was simply for their sake.

It was all for them. I knew that.

It wouldn't hurt anyone if I asked Thoma to do this for me. At least, while I still have the chance to do so.

I can only hope the cannon does not think of shooting it's shot to me if I slipped up.

"Speaking of, Thoma, may I ask you for a favor?"

After the first missing case of the tailor, there had been more that were reported. The victims were all varied in their appearance, age, and even from where they used to live, be it in Narukami Island or even outside of Inazuma itself.

It was difficult to tell how many there were exactly, especially with how the legend is interpreted. Some said it was 20, while others said it was 50. This legend has been passed mouth to mouth, so details were not a key figure for a few to remember well.

However, every iteration has the same detail. The victims all had the same similarity as the tailor that simply went "missing".

All of them, in some way, were associated with certain individuals— one of them being his maple, where a few commented that they were the apple of the crimson man's eye.

From the legend and how it has been told, it is safe to assume that the motive was obvious from the first missing case.

It is akin of an open secret, if said secret was twisted to fit his ideals.

"Haven't you heard?"

"What? What is it?"

"The fixer, Thoma… He went missing just few days ago."

"What!?"

…

Ah, so he went missing like the others?

My ears had perked up at the news that we were told. Although Thoma is one many people never thought of being a 'target', the fact he went missing is... Odd.

"Perhaps he had done something," I heard one of the servants whisper amongst themselves, looking rather cautious. "After all, he's been very privy on a few things..."

"Yes, but he isn't the person I'd expect to vanish like that—"

"Shh—! People are going to hear you, you know! Keep it down!"

Hearing their footsteps echo as they take their leave, I turned back to what I have been working on. The sight of the kimono graced my vision as I raised the needle.

I began to sew the tears on it, letting out a soft hum while I fixed the black fabric from it's horrible state.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut—

"Sir Kaedehara? Someone is looking for you."

...!

I felt the needle prick my finger, but I didn't say anything. With a quiet hum, I raised my head to see someone speak to me, their face grim as they shifted on their feet.

Ah.

Despite the feeling of blood pour onto the fabric, I smiled and nodded, putting down the fabric of the kimono I was fixing.

"I'll be right there. Please tell them to wait for me."

"Really? Oh, thank Archons. I'll get going."

Watching them take their leave, my eyes flit over to my scissors.

Still as sharp as ever, I mused, pushing myself to stand up before fixing my attire. Mayhaps today won't need it to be sharpened.

For now, I had to see what the client wants from me. It would simply be a shame if I leave them alone for far, far too long.

Mayhaps they're here to inquire about the kimono I made. I made sure to add my personal touch to it.

...

As I walked to where my client sought to look for me, I see a familiar sight befell in the grounds of the Kamisato Estate.

The himegimi is currently speaking to my betrothed like they are close companions, and the magician (Lyney was his name, I recall), had been listening to their discussion at hand.

His eyes seem to lit up when he saw me, offering me a welcoming grin.

"You must be the tailor that my sister assigned, aren't you?" he asked when I was close enough to hear him, making me chuckle. Taking a seat across, I simply nodded, keeping my professional smile and demeanor in fear of offending him.

"Indeed, I am that tailor. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Haha, please, the pleasure is all mine!"

The magician shook my hand with mine, and the meeting went as smoothly as one may expect. Although, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander sometimes to where my lover is.

You were speaking to Ayaka like she's a friend of yours. I shan't stop you, darling, but perhaps you aren't aware of the pain you put me through.

Still, I couldn't afford to raise my voice, nor can I think of hurting you with my actions.

How unfortunate. Mayhaps I need to teach you a lesson myself, my angel.

If there was one thing that the legend failed to elaborate, it is the state of the missing people. However, there were... Creative liberties to those that began to see if the legend was true; or, pray tell, associated with any real life events.

To the eyes of others, going missing is a serious deal. It sparks a lot of ideas for what could've happened to them, and especially if they are alive or dead.

Albeit many shrugged off the prior cases, this one was serious. After all, the one that went 'missing' is the fixer of Narukami Island— Thoma, the immigrant in the nation of lightning.

It is, after all, what sparked the eventual downfall of the crimson-eyed tailor and his beloved. Many had thought this was the turning point, but those that did were found to be wrong.

This, after all, was simply the beginning of such downfall. But it wasn't to his lover, the missing residents, or even his companions.

It was to himself, when he used the blades to commit a sin undeserving of forgiveness.

The news that brought upon the missing Himegimi greeted the Kamisato estate that day.

I remember how people were in a disarray. They were much more shaken as they tried to get any sort of lead to where she is, and for some, they were already thinking of quitting.

The estate is already shaken from when Thoma went missing, but now that the young heiress has up and disappeared— especially in winter— it was in chaos.

While I sew the kimonos handed to me, there was an obi that laid on the pile by my right. It was a bit worn, but it can still be saved.

I needed to fix it, and give it my own personal touch. That way, it wouldn't look as though it had been abandoned by it's past owner.

Alas, the noise is getting to me. I could feel the silk resting on my bandaged hand slip every once in a while, if it weren't for how tight I've been holding the fabric.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I needed to put my focus on what I'm doing. I needed to focus on the job.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I mustn't let blood nor dirt stain my creations.

That is what my mother taught me.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, se—

"I apologize if the estate is in a disarray, detective," I hear a familiar voice speak amongst the hushed and panicked whispers. "The estate hasn't been the same ever since my retainer and my younger sibling had gone missing."

"Oh, it's alright! I'm sure this matter is too serious for you and the others to keep things organized."

"Haha... You can say that it is. Now, it's just right this way..."

... A detective is in the estate. How curious.

It wasn't right to snoop, but I was curious. Curious enough to have finished the kimono I was fixing before I stood to leave my quarters.

The others paid no heed as I followed after the two to Ayato's room, too focused to do what they were assigned to even bat an eye when I got close to where they were heading.

It was only when they were inside that I've stopped and simply bid my time, my focus set on what was happening by the shoji leading to his office. And it didn't took long till I hear things from the other side.

"Ah, so you think that someone is out for you?"

"Yes. Although I am normally adept in figuring out who it could be that's causing this to happen, I can't put heads or tails with how their presence eludes me."

"Man alive... And you said that it started when they went missing?"

"... Yes, detective."

"I see... Man alive, that sounds like it wasn't just a single, one-off case, then. I can help you, but this will take a while if there's no leads."

"I see. It's fine, detective. I'll pay you enough when you figure out where my retainer and sister are. I could hardly think that someone would take them without such consequence."

"Oh, no worries. With me around, no criminal will get out unscathed— I'll make sure to bring them here when I figure out who did this."

...

I see.

Perhaps its about time I have to settle this with him.

There was a time where I have thought that things will change.

Where these cases will be laid forgotten, perhaps even unresolved with the lack of hints.

I spent weeks on end, keeping my tracks short and erasing any leads that can lead towards me again.

I spent so, so long trying so desperately to hide anything resembling my crimes.

But alas... He found me.

It was the time where I had to dispose of those bodies. Although I had no heart to bury them under nature, I was not above treating them as though they were simply people.

Even in death, I wanted to make them feel like they look peaceful. Although, perhaps simply sewing their wounds left by my scissors was not something I can treat.

In the middle of the night, I was carrying the Himegimi outside of the abandoned houses I tend to with her retainer, Thoma. I had thought of letting her rest someplace else. Her attire has been sullied, and I needed to keep the two somewhere where no one can find them.

Corpses rot over time, and if it was possible, letting them turn to nothing in the likes of Tsurumi Island will be enough for my weary heart to rest.

With how adept I am of keeping my tracks hidden, I had thought no one would be able to tail on me. But alas, due to the missing cases I've caused, perhaps I wasn't expecting this to happen.

"I knew you'd be here, Kaedehara Kazuha."

I simply paused upon hearing his voice, my head craning back to see that it was Ayato. Despite how composed he looks, I can tell that the nights he spent trying to search for his beloved sibling and retainer wore him down.

His once flawless appearance was nothing but sullied, his attire feeling like its simply hanging off of him, and the way he staggered while looking at me without a shred of restrain is new. Raw for such a heir.

"And that body..." he murmured, his eyes glaring daggers when he found out who it was.

Perhaps it's her dress that makes her recognizable. Or the hair.

"... I thought I've erased everything that can lead back to me," I spoke, sighing as I placed Ayaka's body down. "What a shame. I was quite close to erasing any traces and signs of their whereabouts. It would be nice to only have them be marked as 'missing', not dead."

"So... You admit to it, then?" the heir asked, walking over with stride. "That you have done this, Kaedehara?"

I simply said nothing.

And I knew that was enough of a confirmation for him.

"I knew something was wrong with you," I heard him speak, which caught my attention. Turning my body to finally face him, I watched as he scoffed and continued, "After all, a man as serene as you often had the worst to hide."

"Oh? How curious. Why would you say that?"

I saw his lips curl to a smile.

"Why, I had someone tail after you," he answered, his tone sounding so blunt and his demeanor became more like he's simply 'teaching' me something. "Someone that is associated with the clan. I'm sure you know who it is."

... How uncouth.

"I see... And you confronted me now? For what?"

"A duel."

He unsheathed his blade, and raised it towards my direction.

"I do not usually participate in these, but I'd like to honor your tradition. If I win, you turn yourself in to the Tenryou Commission. Confess all of your crimes, and we shall call it even."

"... Very well."

I raised my own blade, as a sign to his own.

"I needn't state my own terms if I lose, as I can't let you get out alive. Now, let us settle this matter... To each of our graves."

Usually, such details cannot be recreated from interpretation alone.

However, this one was the few exceptions to it's inevitable fate due to it's popularity.

The legend had focused on keeping the existence and ties of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor up for the listener's interpretation. This scene, however, was directly associated to a case that had been tackled many years ago.

The case went as such: each resident of a town goes missing each week. No one knows when it happens, as the day is often random. The victims of these disappearances are also random, so no one could derive from it being a 'pattern'.

No matter how young or old one is, their gender, their living conditions, and even their past... When they least expect it, they simply vanish. Erased.

The only times where the victim was found, several eye-witnesses had different iterations. Some said that the bodies were buried, while others found it floating by riverbanks and the side of the sea.

But the most common— and widely known, of course— was that each victim were made to a doll.

Their limbs were nothing if not sewn with thread, cuts of various degrees being patched with thread of similar color to 'mask' it's oddity. Their eyes were closed, but those that were unfortunate to open it were only greeted with it being turned to the back of their heads.

In some victims, several pieces of their possession were taken. However, most kept theirs on their person, and were seen to not be tampered with.

No one knows what drove someone to this degree. No one can even comprehend such a fact that it was entirely possible.

But to someone who's mind was twisted to the point of no return... It was.

This case had a name, but every resident of Inazuma refused to speak of it. Each time one does, they were told of the legend behind this case.

They were told of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, and they were warned of one thing.

"Do not look at him or his betrothed. If you do, you're as good as dead."

...

It had been a year since our fight happened.

I remember the chaos that occurred back when I finally erased that man. Although it did left his body in an undesirable state, I still fixed and sew him up so that he didn't look as such.

Even in death, I wish to give the heir some form of dignity. That, in some way, I wish to give him his final respects.

After all, he had simply misunderstood my intentions. He didn't knew that I was out for one person from the very beginning.

The downfall of the Kamisato Clan was imminent at that point. I've seen many flee, and witnessed the tragedy befall on the Narukami Island. Many of the people I've met had simply ran off to seek refuge, the terror grasping and choking them like they were unable to think.

However, I remain clear. And I simply continued to do my work diligently.

I have been working on something... Special. And with one last snip of my bloodied scissors, it was now complete.

My final and life-long work, all laid across and now in my hands. The fabric I chose was rather difficult to sew. I should have known that human skin would be too hard, depending on where I retrieved it from.

Dying it in black, I wrapped the obi that had been sewn with the use of the Himegimi's locks, and retrieved the crest of the Kamisato Clan. Adorning it on my person, I viewed myself at the mirror to see my handiwork.

"Finally," I murmured, feeling an odd sensation in my chest as I wore the fruits of my labor. "It is now complete."

With the chaos guiding me and masking my presence, I fled to head by the mountain.

I knew where you were bound to go.

I knew of your crimes long before you knew me.

I didn't paid much attention if anyone saw me. I didn't care if blood simply poured from my attire and to the ground that I'm walking on. I could hardly give a damn if some realized of my crimes in that blasted estate.

I had my scissors with me, and I only wish to fulfill my last wish before I leave this cursed world.

You murdered my family, [Name].

You were the one who caused that fire all those years ago.

I remember those burns you gave me. I remember just how much of a coward you were, fleeing from the scene you caused yourself.

How could I lose everything? And how can you keep your family?

No. No, that mustn't happen. I must set this right.

As your 'lover', I'll make sure you understand what you did wrong.

The culprit of the legend was caught, at least by the end.

All of the townsfolk had banded over to help the detective figure out who had caused such a stir, and it was only because of one eye-witness that said everything. That simply told the truth of the man behind it all.

It was the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, the one who was gripped with envy, that caused such a massacre to occur.

When they found what became of the last victim, his 'lover', they became a doll of his own. After killing them, the legend proceeded to speak of how he had simply 'sown' their skin alongside his, making them his perfect beloved doll.

One of the iterations even mentioned that his unnamed lover was in a Shiromuku outfit, eyes gouged so they may "never look at another man". At least, from what the tale has concluded.

Because of the severity of his crime, the tailor was sent to be on his death row. When the detective tried to get information out of him, they found out that he has lost his mind.

He became a shell of the brilliant man they knew, laughing and speaking that he has finally fulfilled his desire.

Even when he was dragged onto the guillotine, that day was marked as the end of the massacre, and those who were alive spoke of the man's chilling laughter up until his head was cut off.

...

And that was the end of the "Crimson-Eyed Tailor" and his legend.

Or, more accurately, the history of the known "Dead Man's Heart" case, and how Kaedehara Kazuha murdered the one he "loved" for revenge.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

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bughugz · 4 months

Text

DNI minors, zoos, pedos, transphobes, homophobes, racists, detrans, eating disorder blogs, self harm blogs, cishet men, 'men dni' blogs, ableists, blank and ageless accounts there's probably more if any of these things are you or you give off a not good vibe or whatever i'll block you

hiiiii i'm rory you can also call me bug, bun, or worm! it doesn't much matter to me which of these you use for me i'm a 20 year old 2spirit gnc trans man i only use he/it pronouns please perceive as like effeminate boyish and creaturelike with some sprinkling of cultural and spiritual context to confuse the masses i'm also neurodivergent and chronically ill please be patient with me and maybe use tone tags

i'm very non monogamous and don't really label my sexuality i'm simply attracted to gender fuckery usually very t4t and i love woman and nonbinary people in a boyish way i have a big masc lean on here it's very faggy i mostly post transmasc for transmasc content

feel free to flirt with me and be like gross and horny i love attention my dms and asks are open i love interacting with y'all but consent is valued i have a life and i will not tolerate disrespect you can also send pics if you ask nicely and i might send back i may however also choose not to respond to your advances please do not act entitled i don't make a habit of creating close personal relationships on the internet and i don't owe you anything if you really want my attention or just like my content ... tip me! my venmo and cashapp are both $bughugz

i'm basically a subby bottom bitch boy the vast majority of the time i would not feel comfortable domming most people i'm just occasionally feral and sadistic will dom bottom if i feel like it i find more power in being the one receiving and i'm much more shy and inexperienced when it comes to topping but love to service sooo do with that what you will

kinks & limits + terminology and names you can use for me + some stuff to get to know me outside of kink below cut:

key to my heart as a sub is petplay (mostly bunny sometimes puppy) but here is a way too long list of other things i like and may also post about in no particular order:

intox (420!)

cnc (might include uncensored use of the word rape)

overstimulation / edging

bondage / restraints

praise / degradation (not of looks)

crying

sadomasochist

dumbification

manhandling

impact play

spanking

breeding (not pregnancy)

biting / scratching

marking / bruising

free use / public play / anonymous sex etc

group sex / gangbangs / spit roasting etc

objectification !!!!

limits ie things i won't be posting about or engaging in for my safety and comfort but to each their own

ageplay (abdl / ddlg / other variants)

incest / fauxcest

scat

beastiality

piss

vomit

race play

detrans / misgendering

body mods ie play piercing

any sorta of burning or just open flame

if you're curious to know more of my thoughts on something that is or is not here send me an ask or dm!!!

terminology and names you can use for me include:

chest, tits, t/dick, cunt, hole (bunny, puppy, or boy prefixes are fine ie puppycunt, boytits, bunny hole)

bunny, puppy, mutt, bitch, angel, baby, good boy, love, slut, whore, (fuck)toy, pretty boy, sweetheart etc

i also like masc compliments and being called pretty!you can definitely ask if you wanna call me a particular pet name i love them and most are fine but i do not like little one, the word girl, or princess !!!

get to know me outside of kink:

i'm an herbalist and i love plants and ethnobotany especially

i'm in college slowly working towards an environmental science degree

i love bugs and crystals and anything miniature

i like cozy games and fashion and books

i'm a fiber artist and like to experiment with lots of different mediums and styles

i like to roller skate badly

exploring in nature is one of my favorite pastimes whether it's tide pooling or admiring all the little things in a small stretch of forest

this is 100% a horny blog and i will be spamming my silly horny and sometimes non horny thoughts so often that you might hate me not great with words mostly rambling. but please don't hesitate to try and befriend and get to know me and ask me about any of this stuff i like dms just so long as you're respectful i do have social anxiety so i may not dm first!

pics of me are tagged #wormy pics

audios of me are tagged #wormy audios

original text nsfw and sfw is all mostly lumped into #bun ramblings

asks are #wormyasks

anons: 🌸, 🦊, 👾,🪼,💀

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luv4fandoms · 1 year

Text

The Rut (David x Fem! Reader)

It is finally here! The last installment of The Rut series! I am so happy that everyone enjoyed this series, it was definitely fun to write the boys in just complete feral mode lol. I'll definitely be writing for stuff for the boys in the future!

(Also since I've been asked, this isn't really a poly relationship series, this is a "only (insert boy) likes reader" kinda thing).

I really wanna thank everyone who has commented on, reblogged, or just liked this series. Y'all really kept me going when I had writers block, and I couldn't have finished it without y'all. And a big shout out to @auntvamp who came up with the original headcannons about the boys in rut, because without them, this series wouldn't be a thing lol. I'd highly suggest reading that first.

Lastly I'd like to thank @santacarlatourism for their headcanons of each boy's scent on my post

I also got inspired by these headcanons

For this I know a lot of people write David as a rough dom but I wanted to explore something else, I don't think David would always be rough with his mate, I see him having a soft side too, so this is that, and also him slowly losing control lol.

Paul, Marko, Dwayne,

Word Count: 5,376 (of course this cocky mofo ended up with the longest chapter 🤣)

Pairing: David x Fem! Reader

Warnings: DETAILED SMUT! THAT IS ALL THIS STORY IS!! MINORS DNI!!

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Ko-Fi

"Don't invite him in"

That's what Dwayne had told you when he informed you to stay away from the cave for the next couple of days. You were confused when Dwayne had met you at the entrance the night before, usually David was the first one out and ready to leave, typically smoking while the others got ready. You were fully prepared to spend the night at the boardwalk with the boys and your favorite vampire, but Dwayne had quickly shot down those plans.

"Wait…A rut? Like how animals have ru-"

"Yes just like that" he told you as he walked you back to your car.

"When we go into these we are very dangerous to you, since you're a human and not a vampire like us you're far more…"

"Fragile" you finished, the boys had all told you that before, taking it upon themselves to protect you all the time because you were "like a China doll" in Dwayne's words.

"So that's why you need to stay away for a couple of days," he explained, to which you could only simply nod as you climbed in your car. Your thoughts suddenly taking a turn as you thought of him…they were all extremely attractive…him especially…and you were sure him taking a partner for a quick time was something he had done before…would that happen again? After all, if he was gonna kill them anyways why not? It didn't matter if they were fragile right? But why did that thought make you wanna cry even more in this situation?

"It isn't like that" Dwayne's voice broke you out of your thoughts and you were unsure if he had read your thoughts or could just read your emotions.

"Go home y/n, don't overthink ok, you can come back soon" he told you with a small smile as he shut your car door, watching as you started the car and rolled down the window when he knocked

"And one more thing" he told you while leaning in.

"Don't invite him in"

So here you were, sitting in your room, listening to music and drawing, wishing you could just go hang out with the boys, you hadn't really realized just how much of a staple in your life they had become until now. Night's seemed boring without them…without him. Sighing you sat your sketchbook down on your nightstand after you realized that in your zoned out state you had successfully sketched what was probably the twentieth picture of him that resided in the book. Stretching, you got up and changed the music, putting on your newest Billy Idol album. You had joked to David before that he reminded you of the singer, a comment that although he didn't reply to, he seemed complimented by. You had actually come across David listening to a Billy Idol cassette tape one day in the cave and it only solidified that thought even more for you lol. You began dancing around as White Wedding started to play, losing yourself in the music for a moment, before you heard a gentle knock on your window. Your body froze instantly, shifting your gaze to the closed curtains. You slightly wondered if it had been the wind, but only slightly, you knew that was definitely a knock.

"I know you're in there Sweetheart, no use hiding" You immediately felt a shiver run down your spine at the voice, a deeper tone with a slight growl mixed with it told you he was currently vamped out.

'Don't invite him in' Dwayne's words rang in your head, earning another low growl from outside.

"You don't take orders from him, understand?" Oh shit, he was reading your thoughts. You had made him promise when you first learned what they were that he wouldn't do that anymore. A promise he seemed like he had no problem breaking tonight.

"But.. David…Dwayne said it would be dangerous to-"

"Funny" you heard him let out a dry chuckle.

"I thought I just said you don't take orders from him" You gulped at his tone, a sarcastic David was a dangerous David at times, and you had a feeling this was one of those times.

"Let me in Doll, I'll explain it all better than he could" You hesitated still, true, Dwayne hadn't explained very much, and you were still curious. And if you were being honest, when vamped out David probably had the most control over himself out of all of them, besides maybe Dwayne…Maybe it would be safe if you let him in. Slowly making your way over towards the window you heard what seemed like a pleased…purr? You pulled back the curtains, meeting the golden gaze of the vampire on the outside of your window. His figure looming on your small balcony. You unlocked and opened your window, leaning out to speak to him. When suddenly your lips were captured in a searing kiss, his gloved hands holding your face, softly yet firm as he pulled you closer, fangs brushing your lips as he opened your mouth with his, tongue dominating the kiss. You weren't sure what was making you dizzier, the kiss that was quite literally stealing your breath away, or his scent. David always smelled like a mixture of cigarettes, the cologne he always stole that had a very earthy smell to it, and a scent that you could only describe as simply him. But tonight his scent seemed to be cranked up to a hundred, clouding your brain of anything but him. When he finally seemed to remember you needed to breathe he pulled away, forehead resting against yours as he watched you try to catch your breath, pupils blown and heart racing as you met his gaze.

"David," you spoke quietly.

"You're gonna be a good girl and let me come inside, right?" He asked, watching the shiver that went down your spine at the nickname, a mental note he tucked away for later.

"Right?" He asked again, watching as you slowly nodded.

"Words Sweetheart" he gave you that little smile as he ran his thumb over your lip.

"You can come inside" you spoke once you found your voice.

"That's a good girl" he spoke, before the next thing you knew you were back inside your bedroom and being thrown onto your bed.

"Clothes off Sweetheart, I'm going to fuck you first, then I'll explain everything" he commanded, staring you down as he slowly took his coat off and laid it over your desk.

"W-What?" You stuttered, looking at him with wide eyes, did he actually just say that so casually? He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, waiting.

"I thought you were going to be a good girl tonight y/n" he spoke while slowly pulling your chair out and sitting down.

"I-I.." you weren't sure what to say at the moment, voice gone as you got lost in that golden gaze.

"I don't mind punishing you" he warned, and the look in his eye told you that part of him wanted to, wanted you to misbehave so he could. Deciding to play it safe, for now, you quickly took off your top and bottoms, leaving you in your simple lace panties, bra having been discarded earlier in the night. You watched his gaze darken as he took you in, golden eyes turning a bit orange.

"Come here" he spoke simply, but his tone told you that there was no arguing. Slowly you stood from your bed, taking careful steps over to him, stopping once you stood directly in front, your legs lightly grazing his knees. You slowly met his gaze again, those hard features and burning eyes, you knew anyone in your situation would have ran, but you knew David, and maybe some deep twisted part of you wanted this more than you even recognized. Wanted to be completely dominated by this man, this creature. Maybe you should have also not thought those things so loudly, if the absolutely predatory grin was anything to go by.

"Completely dominated huh?" He asked while leaning back in the chair, he watched as you gulped, listened as your heart picked up speed, smelled as a fresh wave of arousal hit you. It wouldn't take much to have you exactly where he wanted you, completely willing, completely his.

"On your knees Sweetheart" he told you with a low growl, and he watched as you instantly fell onto your floor, hands hovering just above his knees before lowering themselves to the ground. Good girl, you already knew to wait for his orders. He watched you watch him, watched as you tried not to show how much you were trying to gain some form of friction against where you needed it most. He could feel himself stir even more at the sight, could feel the inner beast trying to claw its way out, yelling at him to simply take you, stop these foolish games and claim what was his. He hated that feeling, hated losing control. Deciding to relieve both himself and you he tapped his belt buckle, eyes still never leaving you as you looked up to meet his gaze before setting to work undoing his belt and then pants, looking up to silently ask if you should stop or keep going.

"Well? You've been a good girl so far, are you afraid to unwrap your treat?" He smirked, watching the blush crawl up your neck and cheeks as your eyes went back to his pants. He lifted himself slowly so you could take them and his underwear off, pulling the material down to his ankles, stopping only because his boots got in the way. You went to remove them but he stopped you with a hand on your head.

"Those can wait" he told you, sliding his hand from your hair to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your lip before slowly parting them, watching as you wrapped your lips around his thumb, eyes sliding closed as you sucked the digit. David watched you intensely, feeling himself jump at the sight, and knowing that he wanted, no, needed your lips around him, now. Gently pulling his thumb away with the thinning self control he had left he opened your mouth, watching as your eyes met his.

"I have something better for you to use that pretty mouth on" he told you, watching as your eyes moved to finally take him in. He was average length, but pretty thick, a size that had you both clenching around nothing and also afraid of him not fitting. Again, reading your mind, you heard David chuckle.

"That's why we have to get both of us nice and wet, I think you know how to do that, don't you?" He asked, letting go of your mouth and leaning back in the chair, legs opening just a bit more.

"Yes sir" you nodded, sitting up a bit, hands finally touching his thighs, you could hear the low rumble leave him as he stared at you, you had taken a chance by calling him sir, but you had a very strong feeling he had that sort of kink, after all, David always loved being in charge.

"Look at that, I don't even have to teach you manners, you are already trained for me" he smirked, gathering your hair in his gloved hand as you slowly wrapped a hand around his length, feeling it twitch, before lowering your lips to close around the head.

"Already my good girl" he sighed, watching as you ran your tongue along the slit before lowering your head, hollowing your cheeks, and taking more of him in while running your tongue along the vein on the underside. What your mouth couldn't take, you hand took care of as you began bobbing your head, twisting your fist as you stroked in time with your bobs. You hadn't expected David to be a moaner or a talker, so when you only received grunts and huffs you knew not to be disappointed. You let those guide you, noting when he would tighten his grip on your hair, or when he would ever so slightly lift his hips, when he would hold his breath, or when his grunts sounded a bit more strained.

"Teeth" he grunted out at one point, tightening his grip on your hair again. You weren't sure what he meant, so you went off of what you guessed and prayed that it was right, you were doing good so far, you didn't want to fuck up now. Letting your teeth graze against his length you felt him stiffen, and instantly you feared you messed up, but that was when you heard it, the first moan, even if it was extremely quiet. With more confidence you let a little more of your teeth scrape along him as you worked, hearing his breath quicken once more. You chanced a glance upwards and noticed a sight you didn't expect, David with his eyes closed, head slightly tilted backwards, and mouth slightly open. Feeling brave after your achievement you decided to try something else. Sneaking your other hand up, you gently wrapped your hand around his balls, just as you took as much of him as you could and swallowed. Feeling him stiffen instantly, and hearing a clearly strained.

"Fuck" before his eyes met yours, orange gaze blazing before you were suddenly tossed on the bed, watching as he tore the rest of his clothes off.

"Did I say you could do that?" He asked, caging your body with his. You slowly shook your head but David caught your jaw in his now gloveless hand.

"Did I?"

"N-No sir" you replied, honestly a little scared, as well as turned on. David looked almost unhinged at the moment, like he was a breath away from just bending you over, and maybe that's what you wanted.

"So why did you think it was ok?"

"I-I just"

"Just what? You had been doing so well"

"I just wanted to make you feel good" you told him, and watched as he stopped, and blinked down at you. Honestly he hadn't expected that reply. He figured you were tired of playing the good girl role and wanted to disobey, wanted him to put you in your place, wanted him to just take you already…He hadn't expected you to tell him you were just trying to make him feel good.

"Just trying to please your master?" He asked with a smirk, watching as you nodded, eyes wide with an innocence that he knew was false, but God did you know how to play on that. He knew how dirty your mind was, he had read it so many times, times where you would come to the cave, wet and smelling like pure heaven. He wanted, no, needed to know what had gotten you that way, so he'd delve into your mind, needing to know if he'd have an easy kill that night or would it be something else, and what he'd find would cause his own stirrings. Things that you had read about in your little erotic novels, but played out by the two of you. You riding him, which he'd have to be convinced about. Him bending you over his motorcycle, that he could and would definitely arrange. Then there were the ones that filled your mind after you learned that he was originally a gunslinger before he became a vampire. It seemed your naughty little mind lived on the saying "save a horse, ride a cowboy". That heavenly smell surrounded him once again as you looked up at him, muttering such words that had his thin self control on the verge of snapping.

"Always wanna please you sir" you whimpered, slightly wiggling under him, no doubt seeking friction for the overwhelming heat that was bothering you. He decided to take pity on you, at least that's what he'd tell you, when really the beast in him was clawing at his mind for a taste of you.

"Such a Sweetheart" he smiled, leaning down to kiss your neck, chuckling as you leaned your head to the side, already willing to give him access to your blood, but that wasn't the taste he sought, at least not at the moment. Pressing gentle kisses down your collarbone, stopping to give your breasts attention, he swirled his tongue around your nipple before closing his lips around it, fangs grazing your skin as his hand came up to pinch and play with your other one, before his mouth and hand switched. Only when he felt like he had made you a breathless mess did he continue his journey down, hands sliding along your sides as he kissed down your stomach, pressing kisses to your hip bones before hooking his claws into your lace panties. His eyes met yours, a sinister smirk on his lips as you watched him tear your panties in half, the sound of tearing fabric meeting your ears while your eyes never left his. You watched him toss the pieces to the sides of the bed before he pressed kisses to your thighs, so close to where you wanted his mouth but never giving you what you needed.

"Beg" he told you, watching as your eyes met his again, having closed them for a moment.

"Please David" you whimpered, yelping slightly when his hand landed a smack on your thigh.

"Care to try that again?"

"Please sir, please I've been good" you begged.

"Have you? I don't think you have"

"I-I was just trying to make you feel good" you explained again, watching as he stared at you.

"Please sir, I promise I'll be good" you told him, gripping at the sheets, trying to will him to do something, anything to calm the fire that was slowly burning through you. Meanwhile David was fighting with himself, he wanted to tease you, have you a real begging mess, but the other part was clawing at him to just give in and take. This time he decided to give into that beast within and in an instant his mouth was on you, tongue swiping along your slit and watching as you threw your head back, a loud moan of his name tearing from your lips. He decided this time he wouldn't reprime you for it, mainly because he was becoming too lost in your taste, his own grunts muffled as he buried his face deeper, nose brushing your clit while his tongue dipped inside. He felt your legs close around his head, his hands still resting on your thighs, and again he decided to let it slide, instead grabbing your hips and letting himself explore you, commiting to memory every swipe of his tongue that had you moaning his name, every suck that had you gasping, every twist and turn that had your heart beat picking up and the beast in him clawing at the fraying seams of his control. He wanted to slam his fingers in you, listen as you moan at the fact that something was finally filling you, but he knew that his claws and that sensitive of an area shouldn't mix, so he settled on completely devouring you, being careful of his fangs as he brought you closer to your edge. Your legs tightening around him, hips lifting to try and get closer, hands grabbing at his hair while your head was thrown back, eyes shut and mouth open, begging him to not stop, telling him how good he felt and how close you were. He could push you off the edge in just a matter of seconds…could…but wasn't going to. Easily unwrapping your legs from him, he lifted himself away from you, watching as you whined and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Chest rising and falling rapidly as you slowly came down from the high he had built you up to.

"Why?" You whimpered, and David simply smirked as he wiped your essence from his face.

"You still had to be punished Sweetheart" he told you, watching as you pouted, head turned to the side while you tried to catch your breath. He chuckled at your pouting, knew how frustrated you were, because honestly he was at that point as well. He knew that playtime was up. Grabbing your thighs again he pulled you down the bed, wrapping your legs around his hips. He watched you gasp at being manhandled but he knew you liked it, he could smell that you liked it.

"Now, are you gonna be my good girl again? Or do I have to punish you again?"

"I'll be good I promise" you panted, wanting that high again that only he could bring you to, he'd make sure you knew that, that only he could make you feel this way.

"Good girl" he growled, reaching down to drag himself through your wetness, watching as your hips lifted slightly, trying to coax him in.

"Such a greedy girl" he smirked, before slowly entering you, watching as you threw your head back at the feeling of finally having him inside you. It took him a bit with how tight you were, but once he was fully seated he had to take a moment. Because right then, for the first time he felt overwhelmed. Sure he had partners in the past, but nothing felt like this, as if he needed more proof that you were his mate. And he knew that you probably wanted him to be gentle, but he knew that wouldn't be something he could offer, not this night at least.

"I'm not gonna be gentle Sweetheart" he felt he should warn you, felt you deserved to know before he just took you.

"I didn't expect you to be" you smiled, and he knew you knew enough of what was going on with him to know he was losing the control he loved so much, so he never broke the gaze you two held as he gripped your hips and pulled back, only to slam forward, watching as you threw your head back. He listened to your cries for him, your heartbeat singing as it sped up again. He watched as your eyes rolled back, mouth opened as you didn't even try to hide the gasps, and moans. He found his own eyes closing as he sped up, thrusts now slamming into you as the bed shook, his grunts were drowned out by your cries and that was ok, he didn't need to be loud, it was your job to tell everyone who was making you feel this good. Sir had long been forgotten and he couldn't find it in himself to care, wanting you to cry out his name until your throat went raw.

"Fuck" he panted out through gritted teeth, the feeling was picking up, the knot tightening in his stomach as he felt you grow tighter around him. Shit you were gonna make it hard on him to even fuckin last, especially when you were begging for him, begging for him not to stop, begging for him to make you cum, even begging for him to make you his, as if you weren't already. Your orgasm hit you both by surprise, you suddenly became like a vice around him and he immediately stopped, watched as you shook, you entire body trembling as you flew over the edge, he slowed his thrusts, gently rocking you through it, and also keeping his own orgasm at bay

He watched you blink before your eyes met his, looking up to see if he would say something about you cumming without permission, which, any other time he may, but right now he just knew he needed you to cum again, because you were absolutely beautiful when lost in pleasure. You watched as he unhooked your legs from him, instead lifting them as he pulled out and crawled over you, pressing his forehead to yours as he wrapped your legs around him again, his one hand coming up to hold yours, while his other game up to hold your jaw.

"You got another one for me Sweetheart?" He asked, not breaking eye contact as the hand on your jaw left for only a moment as you felt him enter you again, making you gasp.

"Yes" you whimpered, already lifting your hips to meet his.

"My little mate, always so willing" he smiled, fangs grazing your lips before he captured them again, he soon started thrusting again, and you moaned in the kiss, allowing his tongue to enter and dominate before he pulled back, fangs lightly grazing your lip and drawing blood, to which he quickly licked it up. His hips thrusting forward harshly as he tasted it, the flavor exploding on his tongue and heightening his sense to focus on the precious liquid that flowed just below the skin. He knew it would be dangerous to feed on you while you two were in the middle of this, he could lose any control he had left if he did, and he wouldn't know what to do if he killed his mate. So instead he focused on the other liquid you were producing, the liquid that was currently coating his thighs as he thrusted into you. Your moans were echoing against the walls and in his brain as he allowed himself to slip away, focusing on the feeling of your body sucking him in, gripping him tight in your soaking heat, God you were so hot against him. He knew his temperature was running hotter than normal due to the rut but yours was like fire. He was also losing himself in your scent, not just the scent of your arousal, but the scent that was simply you, a scent that he would never admit, but one that he loved smelling around the cave or against his pillow when you would take a nap in his spare room. He lost himself in how soft your skin was under his hands, how you completely gave yourself to him, willingly submitted yourself to a beast like him even though you had been told it was dangerous. How you were crying out for him, begging him, praising him, God your praises.

"Yeah? Only I can make you feel this good?" He panted against your lips, eyes still closed as he continued to lose himself.

"Fuuuuck, only you David" you told him

"Only I know your body like this" he growled, picking up speed.

"Only you" you panted.

"You're mine" another growl

"Shit..Only yours"

"Completely mine" he grunted

"Fucking…Always"

"My mate" he groaned, and you allowed your eyes to open slightly, expecting to meet gold but instead noticed that his eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed as his mouth opened slightly, hot breaths fanning your face.

"Say it" he panted, eyes not opening as he picked up his speed again, angling himself until he was hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars

"Your mate" you moaned, eyes closing again as your head fell back as far as his hand would let it, his grip leaving your jaw to grab the back of your head, forehead never leaving yours.

"My mate" he panted, breaking off into a groan.

"Fuck" he moaned against your lips, his control a hair's breath away from being gone, the faster your heartbeat raced, the less he had.

"Cum for me" he groaned, knowing he wasn't going to last much longer. The hand that had been holding yours quickly found your clit, rubbing circles that had to shooting towards your peak.

"Fuck! David!"

"That's it baby, let go" he surged forward, panting against your mouth as moans began to leave him, the sign that he was about to finish as well you realized. Your hands shot into his hair, pulling the locks until his face left yours and buried into your neck. It was something you knew you both wanted, something you had fantasized about, and something you know the rut would most likely want him to do.

"Make me yours" you panted, officially snapping the thin string of self control he had. Instantly his fangs sunk into your skin, drawing a high pitched moan from you as your legs locked around him, your body squeezing him as your second orgasm washed over you, and he was right behind. As soon as your blood entered his mouth he was gone, he knew you smelled like heaven, but you tasted like it as well, and that paired with your even stronger orgasm had him slamming forward, hips stuttering before stilling as he filled you, a deep growl leaving him and vibrating your chest as he pour himself into you, claiming you, marking you, just like his fangs did. He gave a few slow thrusts before he stilled and pulled his mouth away, his fangs leaving your skin as he licked up the blood that trailed out and sealed the wound, the only evidence being two small marks. You both stayed like that for a moment, his face still buried in your neck while your hand was tangled in his hair, the other running along the scratch marks on his back that you didn't even know you had made, he knew though, he quite enjoyed the tiny bit of pain.

"That was really dangerous" he spoke after a moment, drawing your attention to his gaze, now far less orange and far more gold, the red hue having disappeared.

"I think the danger started when I invited you in" you laughed, watching as a smile graced his lips.

"You were told not to, and here I thought you knew how to follow orders" he tisked, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Kinda hard to know which rules to follow when my master says the opposite of others" you smirked, earning a growl that vibrated your chest.

"Always my orders"

"That's what I thought" you smiled, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss that he happily returned.

"You really like being called that" you joked, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Just means you know your role" he stated.

"Oh? So I'm nothing more than your pet?" You asked with a pout.

"You know you're not, you're my mate" he stated as if it were the simplest thing, which to him it may have been, but to you.

"What does that mean exactly?" You asked, watching as he just blinked at you.

"No like…is that what vampires call girlfriends or.." you trailed off when he started lightly running his finger over the bite marks he made.

"Why do you think I came here even though it was dangerous?" He asked.

"Honestly, I'm not actually sure" you told him truthfully.

"I actually figured you would just go pick up some random at the boardwalk" added while staring at the skin of his arm that you were currently drawing patterns on with your finger. You tried to hide the sad tone but you knew he could easily pick up on it, knew because he was soon turning your face towards him again.

"This doesn't work that way." He started, brushing your hair out of your face.

"None of us have ever been through this before, I'm the first. We just know about it from Max telling us" he explained.

"This rut, it's triggered by us finding our mate. In human terms I guess the closest thing would be a soulmate"

"So I'm…Your soulmate?" You asked, your smile growing.

"Far more than a pet now huh?" He smirked, leaning down to kiss you again. Chuckling when you pulled him closer to deepen the kiss.

"Would this be the right time to tell you that I've kinda had a crush on you for a while?" You laughed, watching as his smirk grew.

"Oh I already knew"

"Wait what?!"

"You think very loudly Sweetheart"

"Wait…How long have you been reading my thoughts?! I told you not to!"

"Long enough" he stated, while lowering his mouth to your ear.

"Now, let's see if you can last for longer than eight seconds Darlin'" he purred, a deep southern drawl ringing in your ears and you knew you were fucked…in more ways than one.

Of course I had to throw in some tidbits about my headcanon that David was originally a gunslinger from Texas lol.

Taglist

@its-monster-mash, @arenpath , @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx , @katpursley94-blog , @theamericanjewitch , @shewhomustnotbenamedsworld , @thelostone91 , @blazeflays , @ilikechocolatemilkh , @babyloutattoo89 , @bigcreatorwombatdreamer , @non-binary-disastrous-mess , @2525sc , @kitteebree , @besas-stuff , @justaspeachy , @faefairi3 , @its-freaking-bats, @santa-carla-boardwalk-1987, @urmothersmistress , @nickangel13 , @lostboysmate1987 , @simpin-for-slashers,

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actual-changeling · 4 months

Text

Look, I love a good discussion about a topic, it can be fun, it makes you think and reconsider your opinions, it's a good mental exercise in general, and I enjoy it.

But sometimes everyone has their point of view and that's fine. Unless it is a moral issue, triggering to me, or squicking me out too much, I don't mind seeing it! I can agree to disagree. and I will gladly do so.

You have your hill to die on, I have mine, and we can both meet on other hills that we both like or just wave at each other from afar. I genuinely do not care.

I follow people that talk about fandoms I didn't even know existed (I still have not figured out what exactly taskmaster is but it looks like y'all are having a fun time) or that hold opposing opinions, and I still like seeing them on my dash. If someone would rather block/soft block me or otherwise prevent themselves from seeing me, that's fine, protect your peace, curate your blog.

What I DON'T like, however, is people being assholes or starting discussions on posts that are headcanons, ficlets, or anything that isn't meta/speculation/theories.

What I don't like is getting anons pressuring me to 'prove' something; you're not my inorganic chemistry prof, I don't need to show you proof for shit.

What I don't like is passive aggressive vague-posting or openly bashing people, keep that in private circles and DMs.

If I ever come across as angry/upset/too intense, 90% of the time it's simply me being autistic, shit at tone, and passionate about a topic—and you're always welcome to tell me if I am making you uncomfortable/you don't want me adding to your posts/to asks how I meant something/etc.

Thanks.

#alex yells at the void #good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens fandom #ineffable husbands #gonna put a link to this in my pinned post so I dont have to repeat myself #genuinely you can tell me to knock off smth and i will! i try to gauge if x post is one i can add to or not #and sometimes i miss the mark and you can just. tell me. and i will delete my addition #dms or anon or asks send me a messenger pigeon whatever floats your boat

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thesparklingwriter · 9 months

Text

the stars have spoken

★༉‧₊˚✧ celeste's 300 follower event [closed]

hey y'all! thank you so much for 300 followers! i really appreciate each and every one of you--i was super worried that my blog would not survive the shadow ban of 2023, and while some pieces that i love are being totally ignored by the algorithm, I'm happy to know that my stuff is finally getting out to people who enjoy it.

as a celebration of both these momentous occasions, i present to you a genshin match-up event!

slots filled [full]

[ 1 ]

apologies for closing early but i didn't realise how much work i have impending and how long they take me, but since so many people have been interested, I’m going to do it again for 500 followers so please bear with me :3

★༉‧₊˚✧ in order to hear the wisdom of the stars, you must fulfill their few simple requests...

you must be following me (i will prioritise people i know have been following me for a while, but I won’t be too strict about it.)

i will prioritise asks that are not on anon

if you choose to send on anon, please leave a blog user that i can link in the post

this event will include romantic sfw pairings with genshin men

if you want fem!reader please specify, but if not, anything written will be gn!reader

i will write 2/3 drabbles

mutuals get a few extra treats :3

i won’t post your ask, but i will reply to it privately to let you know i’ve seen it once I’ve started writing

block the tag [✨]—the stars have spoken if you're not interested in seeing the event or the related pieces

★༉‧₊˚✧ make yourself known...

when leaving an ask:

include a name/nickname you want to be addressed by

describe yourself: your hobbies, likes/dislikes, ideal type, favourite tropes, personality, pet peeves, ideal first date, red and green flags in a relationship, love language, and anything else you think i should know about you (the more detailed you are, the better the result)

inform me if there are characters you simply can't stand to be paired with

i reserve the right to reject a submission if there isn’t enough there to work with

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intrepidacious · 2 years

Text

lavender's blue

summary: If there was one thing Jefferson could always rely upon, it was that you didn’t much care for sense.

pairing: jefferson x f!reader

word count: 6.4k

warnings: canon-typical angst?, reader with unspecified magical abilities, reader is alice-in-wonderland-appropriately weird y'all (affectionate); kind of open-ended but in a hopeful bc canon-compliant way <3

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i started this as a submission for @sparkledfirecracker's cheesy writing fest challenge, but it didn't turn out very cheesy or even remotely on time. still, thank you for the wonderful prompts your wheels of fate gave me, and congrats on your follower milestone 💛

prompts used: jefferson + friends to lovers + forehead kisses

masterlist | read on ao3

What Regina couldn’t have anticipated, what no one ever could have, really, was that you had always been unpredictable. A loose end. A ticking time bomb. An unlocked door.

It was a curse in and of itself, most of the time, albeit one with a lowercase c. You’d always craved a normal life, but that didn’t mesh too well with your impulsiveness. Normalcy craved planning, devising, executing, in that order, precise decisions and arrangements that weren’t to be changed at a whim.

You were as wild as a flower in spring.

It was what Jefferson liked most about you when you first met, back when he was still jumping worlds like one of them would give him an answer. Instead, he found you, back in the Enchanted Forest you both called home, on a day that had started out like any other.

You were smack dab in the center of the meadow the hat spat him out on, and you were spinning around yourself until, he supposed, your skirts finally circled just so, and then landing on your back, laughing. Your feet were bare and dirty from stamping the ground like you were proving a point.

When he stepped closer, you propped yourself up on your elbows and blinked up at him with a grin. The sun cast his shadow in such a way that his head seemed to touch your heart. Jefferson noticed that, even then.

"Is there a reason you’re trampling on the dandelions?" he asked.

"Some people don’t deserve a wish," you simply said.

He couldn’t argue with that.

"And what about you?" he said instead.

"Well," you mused, closing your eyes, the tilt of your lips unwavering. "I think I already got my wish for the day."

"And what was that?"

There was magic brimming within you, and a lot of it. It made Jefferson’s hands shake and the hat cough out trails of smoke, even though it didn’t need to go anywhere, but you … you didn’t even seem to notice.

"Something blue," you answered.

Curiouser and curiouser, just like your smile. That was the thing that kept him distracted long enough for you to anticipate his next question, to point, still without looking, back at the hat and the purplish haze it had wrapped itself in.

"Lavender’s blue, dilly-dilly," you continued before he could voice his confusion. "I mean, I wanted flowers. But I suppose one doesn’t argue with chance, don’t you think?"

There was an almost dangerous glint in your eye when you faced him again, and that settled it.

"Why not?" he asked, and held out his hand.

You stared at it in amusement. "Are you in the habit of challenging fate, stranger?"

"Only if I know I can win," he said. "And the name’s Jefferson."

You took his hand, then, and he could never be sure if it was meant as an introduction or a leap of faith. It didn’t matter, really, when it ended up being both. When he’d pulled you to your feet, there was a small bottle in his palm, its contents glittering like liquid stardust.

He blinked.

"You can keep that if you want," you said, turning your skirt pockets out and carelessly dropping the rest of their contents on the ground. "It’s all too heavy."

Jefferson watched as you plucked a single dandelion and shook it until the wind did the wishing part for you. Then you turned without another glance at him and walked away humming, your magic patting the hat like a pet and then vanishing with you.

He’d spend weeks thinking about you simply handing him the very potion he’d intended to steal, and he still couldn’t figure out how you’d even known.

***

In this life, there are several things you know.

You know you’re a florist. You know you’re well liked, which is nice and feels new, even though you’ve lived here all your life. You know your hands can fabricate the most splendid arrangements, bouquets and wreaths in all the colors Maine has to offer, and most days, you know you’re perfectly content doing just that.

Other days, though, you know you want to see every single petal turned to ashes.

Because you also know this voice deep inside your bones, not quite your own but almost, too familiar with your habits and routines and endless, endless smalltalk. You know it keeps telling you that something is missing, something you might find again if only you set this whole damn place aflame.

So you think, what’s the harm.

And as the flames lick at your window settings and burn the roses to a crisp, you tilt your head slowly and something inside stirs, like a sleeping dragon twitching as it wakes. You realize then, that in between all the things you know, you almost missed something quite important.

Tea.

Thankfully, no else one gets hurt. The building barely even carries any damage.

When Sheriff Humbert finally lets you leave, it’s already dark outside, far too late for a neighborly visit, but you go anyway. You should have driven, but by the time you think of that, you’ve almost climbed up the hill already. The forest seems to whisper to you; you ignore it.

It’s a grand house, and you can tell it’s empty by just looking at the front of it. Not without furniture, but without a heart. You knock, knock, knock, and the sound seems to echo through the whole forest.

When the door opens, it’s with a creak that almost sounds like a yawn, and Jefferson freezes, his eyes widening as they meet yours. They’re more tired than you remember.

"I didn’t forget," you say before he can get a single word out, handing him the small parcel. The paper has worn wrinkly in your sweaty palms. "I just burned down my shop today."

If he’s surprised, or concerned, he doesn’t show it. He hovers in the doorway, his fingers carefully unwrap the delicate teacup, and there’s a wisp of a smile of his face as they trace the tiny, nonsensical little spout.

"What’s this for?" he finally asks, his voice strangely raspy.

"Don’t you remember?" you say. "It’s your unbirthday."

He lets you in, then, and your boots sink into the carpeted floor, like the ground is trying to swallow you up. The front door clicks shut.

"Tea day is Tuesdays and Thursdays," you continue on, wandering deeper into the house, making a wrong turn and taking a few steps up the stairs before suspecting—recalling—that the kitchen is to the right. You huff frustratedly. "You didn’t remind me last week!"

"Well," Jefferson calls from somewhere out of your sight. "One never knows with you."

Dark wooden cabinets. Checkerboard tiles in the kitchen. You decide you’ve broken enough rules for a day and cross them strictly diagonally until you hit a corner cabinet, pulling it open. Empty, empty. "It’s my unbirthday too, you know," you say when you hear his steps approaching again.

"What are the chances?" His voice is still hollow, in a way, as hollow as this house, and you feel like you’re missing something, but it’s so, so tiresome to think about.

"Look at that," you say, shaking the last couple of crumbs out of a crumpled up, sad-looking biscuit wrapper. "I should have come up earlier."

Jefferson sighs as he leans against the counter, watching you continue to rummage through the shelves, drawers, cupboards, trays.

It’s the saddest tea you’ve ever prepared, without a single thing to nibble on and the tea leaves trapped in silly little cotton bags, but you move opposite each other like you’re playing a game of chess, which consoles you a little.

He wins, you think, but you don’t actually know how to play.

***

Jefferson was never entirely convinced you were from the Enchanted Forest. It didn’t suit you, the dirt of this world, the whispered promises of happily ever afters and wishing upon stars so your dreams came true.

You went for the things you wanted without an ounce of remorse and without a single glance over your shoulder.

Then again, none of the other worlds he’d passed through seemed to fit you, either. Wonderland might have come closest, but you lacked its shrillness, the blunt terror in its colors and way of life. And you hated playing cards.

He wasn’t sure how you kept running into him whenever he least expected it, but you seemed to make a habit of doing just that. You seemed to enjoy pretending not to notice him staring whenever he did find you, mesmerized as if it was that first time all over again.

There was something about your presence that made any room you inhabited feel different, and the woods and sky and earth would all vibrate at a different frequency whenever you were around. It wasn’t just your magic, it was all of you.

Of course, he wasn’t the only one who��d noticed.

"See something interesting, dearie?" a voice laced with insanity asked from behind his shoulder.

Jefferson’s eyes never left you, even as he felt Rumplestiltskin’s gaze bore into his neck. You appeared to be counting the toadstools, reciting something in sing-song he couldn’t make out from where he was standing.

"Did you make a deal with her, too?" he asked, voice carefully neutral because you never knew what the Dark One would pick up on and use against you. He already had more on him than Jefferson liked.

"Oh, no. All magic comes with a price." The same phrase, a thousand times, accompanied by the same shimmer in his eyes. He didn't have to look to know it was there. "Just because you’re yet to pay yours doesn’t mean that’s true for everyone."

"So she’s mad?"

"What’s mad?" Rumplestiltskin tutted. "We’re all mad, in our own way. The most powerful most of all."

You lifted your head to look at the two of them and waved. Jefferson lowered the hat over his forehead, finally turning away.

"Then it surprises me you don’t seem to use that to your advantage," he said, crossing his arms.

The Dark One’s grin spliced his mouth with gold. "I like the result of my bidding to be as expected."

It seemed as good enough a cue to leave as any. He didn’t come very far, though, had barely taken the hat off to embark on his next journey before you caught up to him.

"Where are you going this time?"

He smiled to himself, because even with all your whimsical moods he knew you well enough by then to understand you hated being ignored. "Camelot," he answered just as the hat began swirling.

You stepped closer, bare feet crunching the fall leaves on the ground, and when he turned to meet your gaze, the curiosity in your eyes made his heart stumble over itself as he held out his hand, again.

You took it without a moment’s hesitation.

***

There’s a road that leads into town, but it doesn’t lead out. You like how this doesn’t make any sense; it almost feels normal.

Jefferson hates it, of course. It’s easy to read on his face, contempt tinting his every look and gesture an unbecoming shade of green. He hates this world and this wrong life and the fact that everything he wants is right under his nose and yet so far out of reach.

You get that, you really do. But the constant worrying and thinking just drags you down, doesn’t it? No. Ridiculous. So you decide to make a change.

Or rather, things fall into place again.

You work at the library now. People don’t like you as much, but it’s not like that thing at the flower shop was your fault, so they get over it. You love books too much to even consider setting them on fire, and there’s a lot less customer interaction involved, which minimizes the smalltalk. You’ve never liked smalltalk.

You’re perfectly content with your life.

That Friday you find Jefferson hunched over yet another map of the area, tracing the paradoxical routes that should lead onto the interstate and yet never do. Cars break down, bikes crash into trees that appear out of nowhere, and hiking somehow just leads you to walking in circles until you find yourself on main square once again.

It’s a puzzle that’s missing half its pieces, and you’d care about it more if you had any intention of leaving.

"Where do you want to go so badly, anyway?" you asked him once, when his eyes were red-rimmed with lack of sleep and that desperate determination.

"Home," he said, and the finality of that word made your insides twist.

Food and drinks are strictly forbidden in the reading hall, but you sneak him a thermos filled with coffee, anyway, the time for tea long passed.

He smiles at you tiredly as you take a seat opposite him, frowning at the pile of books you’re going to have to sort back onto the shelves past closing time. "Who are you today, then?" he asks, his voice hoarse as if he hasn’t talked all day. He hasn’t taken his scarf off, either, so maybe he’s getting sick.

You squint your eyes at him. "If you’re coming on to me, it’s not working."

Jefferson huffs, and then turns back to his maps. "Not at all."

Maybe it’s working a little, you think as you continue to watch him. After all, there’s method to this madness of his, passion to his pursuit, even though you don’t really understand it.

If he notices you staring, he shows no sign of it, and you’re not about to make him aware of it, not when you’re just starting to get to know each other. Besides, the longer you ponder the possibility of him, the stronger your head starts to pound.

You need to lock up at nine and Jefferson leaves you with another crooked grin that suggests more familiarity than there should be between the two of you. You return it with a bump of your shoulders, and then you watch him walk down the street with his hands in his pockets until he rounds a corner and you roll the shutters down.

Once again, you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right here.

Because of your migraine, you spill the leftovers of the coffee over a particularly rare collection of fairy tales later that night. The gold-edged pages bleed ink all over the maps, rendering them essentially pretty trash for the perfect townsfolk of Storybrooke. You fold them up as a gift, and then you put your keys into the letterbox for them to pick up on Monday.

***

For a while, it was the two of you on his travels through the different realms, exploring and stealing and doing the unexpected. It was your specialty, after all.

And then, just like that, for a whole while, Jefferson didn’t see you again, not until after he’d met and lost Grace’s mother. It was a particularly cold night in December when he woke to his daughter tugging at his sleeve and a strange noise from outside.

It was rhythmic, swooshing, almost like the wind but accompanied by something like a hum. When he stepped to the window, though, there was nothing outside but darkness and whirling snowflakes.

He managed to get Grace back into bed after some crackers and tea, her eyes drooping closed as she huddled up with the corner of her blanket in her mouth. Jefferson watched her drift back to sleep, and then he returned to the window, because he had this feeling that he couldn’t quite shake. Like someone was calling for him without ever saying his name.

He found you clearing the path leading up to the cottage with your bare hands, the frilly cloak around your shoulders not nearly warm enough to keep out the icy sting of winter. Your fingers were already starting to turn an unhealthy color, and a thin layer of snow sat at the crown of your head like a frozen hat.

Jefferson cursed and grabbed his coat from the bench next to the door.

"What are you doing?" he hissed when he reached you, wrapping you up within seconds. You blinked up at him. Your lashes were glittering with ice.

"It needed cleaning," you said matter-of-factly, without keeping your voice down.

Quickly, he ushered you inside and made you sit next to the fireplace. You only seemed to realize the oddness of your situation now that warmth was returning to your limbs, looking around the room in slow confusion, like you were trying to piece everything together.

Jefferson was putting the kettle back into the fire when you got up again, his coat still draped around your shoulders, and stepped closer to the bed.

"You had a daughter," you said, peering at the sleeping toddler with something almost like a frown. "She’s beautiful."

"She looks like her mother."

"Nonsense. She looks just like you."

The red on his cheeks felt almost like a betrayal, but you didn’t mean that, anyway, so it didn’t count. Still, he was stunned enough to drop his mug, and the sound of it shattering on the floor woke Grace up again. She would be three in spring, then, and she was a smart girl, but she’d stopped talking months ago, instead resorting back to the wails of a much younger child whenever she was upset, and she was hard to calm.

He couldn’t blame her.

Whenever he held her like this, he felt as helpless and alone as he did that first time when she was crying for her mother and there was no one there but him.

Except this time, Jefferson wasn’t alone. To his surprise, you stepped closer and started humming, and then singing under your breath.

To his even bigger surprise, it seemed to soothe Grace.

It was an old song, a familiar song, and you placed a calming hand on his shoulder as he cradled his daughter until she finally fell asleep again. You were still cold enough he could feel it through his shirt, but your voice carried a warmth he wasn’t used to anymore.

You took your tea in comfortable silence, and when the first rays of sunshine started creeping through the branches outside, you told him that you had to leave again. He almost asked how long it would be this time.

Instead, he led you to the door and shook his head as you tried to slip out of his coat. "The weather is supposed to turn again," he said, looking you up and down because he didn’t know when to expect you next. He never did.

"You’re different," you said, and even though you didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt at those words, they still left their mark.

"You’re not," he said, and meant it as a compliment. Somehow, when you met his eye, it didn’t seem like one anymore.

"I wouldn’t be so sure," you answered, and he had no response to that.

You kissed him, then. Sweetly, like a blushing bride would. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

It was over far more quickly than he’d have liked, and you stuffed your hands into his coat pockets.

"I’m sorry," you said, and for the first time, you wouldn’t look at him.

But Jefferson could do nothing but stare, even as you finally turned and wandered down the path again, because there you were, with your heart on your sleeve, and he’d just lost his wife, and he didn’t know up from down anymore.

***

Stepping into Jefferson’s sitting room is a little like entering a creature’s belly and sitting down next to its beating heart, pressing so close you can feel it pulsating through you.

There’s a large grandfather clock staring at you from next to the fireplace, and on the mantle there’s a small, wooden alarm, and from there, it’s six and a half steps to the cuckoo clock on the far wall that makes a little rabbit appear every fifteen minutes.

Then, it’s another twenty steps past the living room table to the clock on the even farther wall and the bookcase he stores his silver pocket watch on, in a blue box on the high shelf, next to a dusty collection of fairy tales and an old hat he used to wear on Fridays.

Or was it Sundays?

"You could just go talk to her," you tell him on a Thursday, taking another sip of tea.

Jefferson sinks back in his chair, knuckles at his temples. His chin is still held high in bottomless defiance, but his eyes are so tired. "It’s not that simple."

"It’s not that complicated, either," you shrug. "You’re her father, after all."

"Except I’m the only one to know that."

"I know," you say, and you’re not sure yourself if you mean to sound reassuring or scolding. The thought is head-achingly heavy, so you drop it and pick up a tune instead, quietly humming to yourself as you continue your circles around the room.

It’s an old melody, ghosting through your mind more often than not, a little sad and happy at the same time. You feel Jefferson’s weary gaze on the back of your head, and somehow it makes you smile.

"You remember how it’s supposed to work back at home, though, right? True love conquers all." You chuckle to yourself. The song in your head starts to buzz. "Or," you continue with a dismissive lift of your eyebrow, "are you just going to wait for that savior to appear? How long has it been, ten years?"

"Eight years, three months, two-hundred and seventeen days."

Huh. You could have sworn you’ve been here much longer.

"Then there’s still nineteen years and …" You think for a moment, then shake your head. "You know what, I’m not going to get that right if I tried, and I don’t want to, so let’s just say a while."

He almost laughs at that, a soft, pained look in his eye that you’re not supposed to find charming.

"You’re going to go insane in that time," you say softly. "I would."

"I know." It’s already starting to tug at the tilt of his smile and the twitch in his eye. He hasn’t quite learned to stop caring, yet, and of course he hasn’t. That wouldn’t be like him.

He’s always been your mirror, so why would this be any different?

Things stay they same, and they stay the same, and they stay the same, and you’re sick of it. Apparently, there’s a thing such as too normal a life, and it makes your skin crawl.

So you start tailoring again. Your evenings are long and there’s just a few people that come in regularly, that ask for golden thread to fix their buttons and flaxen yarn to hem their suits. It’s quiet. Terribly quiet. Too quiet.

There’s not a single clock in your shop, and you realize you miss the ticking as soon as you crawl out of the belly of the beast. So you keep returning.

"We used to share a bed," you recall, lifting your arm so Jefferson can reach for the thread you’re holding out as you both sit on the floor, your tools and fabrics spread out over the entire room. You love watching him work, even though you don’t quite understand why he’s so obsessed with making hats. Maybe you just forgot.

"We did", he answers, not even looking at you. It makes you roll your eyes.

"So why don’t we now?"

"That would be rather complicated." His stitching is impeccable.

"Why?" Something throbs between your temples.

"Several reasons, dear." He tilts his head. "Aren’t you late?"

The unpleasant feeling in your chest disappears when you look at the clock. "Shit."

You hastily gather your things and start running to make it back to your shop in time, barely remembering to catch your breath enough to say goodbye, and so you miss the look on his face as he watches you, staying behind in the big house in the middle of the woods.

***

You visited more often, now that you knew about Grace, but Jefferson didn’t know if that was for her sake or for his. One thing that was very clear, however, was that you didn’t care at all about the dirty looks you got from everyone else whenever you strayed off the path to wander towards his cottage, unchaperoned.

Sure, they pitied him, but he was grieving, they said, and you were young and beautiful.

"They’re all so terribly starved for entertainment," you sighed, and then you handed him another pretty pebble you’d found on your way. He put it into the bowl on the window sill.

Grace was getting old enough to get used to you, then, to recognize the hands that tickled her chin and sometimes pulled her up when she fell on the forest ground. She loved your surprises, and your stories were her favorites to listen to when it was bedtime, even though she usually fell asleep long before you stopped talking.

"Did I ever tell you," you continued when the embers were barely glowing anymore but your eyes were shining in the moonlight, "about those pirates that I ran into near—"

"Why did you stay away so long?"

You blinked, and so did he. He hadn’t expected himself to actually ask, not after all this time that you had been back in his life. But the question was out now, sitting between you on the broken floorboards of his broken life, and the night stretched your silence into infinity.

"I wrote you letters," you told him, and it was true, but it wasn’t an answer. So he kept looking at you, and the silence scraped its nails against your skin. "I don’t know," you finally said in a way that told Jefferson you did know and didn’t want to tell him. There was a flustered hum to you that almost made him want to take it back, but the magic that followed each and every of your whims didn’t retreat. Not even a little.

"I was falling in love with you." He’d never admitted it out loud before. Who would he have told?

You laughed nervously, looking over at Grace. "Not very much, clearly."

"You never gave me the chance to do it properly."

"You don’t want me. I could never be a mother." Still, you talked quietly enough not to wake her, and you brought her trinkets and playthings whenever you’d been away for a while. You never brought him anything, but he still felt like he was getting a rare gift every time. It must’ve counted for something.

Besides, this was the first time you’d attempted to reason with him.

"I didn’t have her then," he said anyway, as if that was an argument.

"But you were always going to."

"And what about you and me?"

You bit your lip. "I’m inconvenient."

"I know," he said.

"You can’t rely on me."

"I know," he said.

"You deserve better than me."

Jefferson shook his head, and for the first time since he met you, you looked unsure. So, for the first time since he met you, he was the one doing the incalculable.

He kissed you.

You pulled him closer immediately, all logic forgotten as you crashed into each other, finally on the same page of this twisted story. You kissed him like you wanted him to be the happy ending to your storybook, even though you weren’t cut out for that kind of tale.

You both tried to be, anyway.

***

You’ve run the teashop now for … you’re not quite sure. Forever, maybe. It sure feels like your whole life has been spent between boxes of fragrant leaves, with a kettle always shrieking somewhere in the house and you humming whatever tune it sings to you.

But your hands are dirty, and no matter how much you brush your nails under scalding water, there always seems to be grime underneath them. Like you’re repotting plants in your sleep. Or clawing at the ground.

Your life is filled with sound, with constant chatter and gossip, because your front door is barely a five minute walk from Storybrooke secondary and the schoolgirls have developed an obsession with the shortbread and ginger muffins you serve with their tea. They reward you with whatever pocket money they can find at the bottom of their school bags and any gossip about their teachers they’ve eavesdropped on that week.

You constantly have a headache, but it’s fun, in a way. And you get to see Grace.

Your hand stops midair as you reach out for the lavender tea the girl ordered, staring unfocused until she clears her throat expectantly.

“Sorry,” you say, still dazed, “lost my train of thought there.”

The girl—Paige, you remember now, you heard her friend say her name when they entered the shop, Come on, Paige, and something about it made your stomach turn—tips her head to the side in a way that’s familiar, even though you don’t know why. “Can I have that to go?“ she adds, a quick look over her shoulder to where her friends are giggling.

“Sure.”

You only serve tea in loose leaves, because you believe trapping your window to the future in a small bag doesn’t do anyone any good, even though most of your customers don’t know how to tip their residue into their saucers in the proper way. You do it for them, sometimes, if they leave enough cold tea in their cups for you to do it after the door has clicked shut behind them. You knew about the mayor’s adoption papers going through before she knew about it herself, and you’d felt pretty smug about that.

The perfect amount of time to steep lavender tea is five minutes and forty-six seconds, and because you can’t trust a child to particularly care for such precision, you keep the steaming paper cup behind the counter until your timer goes off. You stir a dollop of honey in, humming to yourself, before you hand Paige the cup. She doesn’t really look at you, already distracted by another snippet of conversation, but she still flashes you a quick smile before hurrying to catch up with the others. The bell above the door jingles again, and the man stepping inside holds the door open for the girls to file outside, chattering excitedly. His other hand is balled up into a fist so tight it makes his knuckles stand out white.

He takes a deep breath before he turns and regards you. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I suppose so,” you say, even though it interrupts your humming. “Can I get you anything?”

His smile is small, but beautiful. “I think you already are.”

It’s then you notice you’ve pulled out one of the mugs from your good set without even asking, heaping two and a half spoonsful of your favorite blend inside like it’s the most natural thing for you to do upon his entrance.

Before you can apologize, he turns the sign in your window to 'closed' and sits down at the counter with a patient look, eyes very intense as they search yours, his face unreadable. None of it feels threatening, just … expectant.

So you continue with your instinctual movements, even though you’re not sure how you know what he’s waiting for. You feel like there’s something you’re missing, and it doesn’t come to you until you hand him his mug.

The mask falls when he says your name, your real name, and your lips twist into a smile that’s so unsure of itself it almost curls inwards.

You remember, you remember.

Every single lifetime falls back into place until the one that came first stays at the forefront. You cling to the thought like someone fights with a dream to be allowed to stay a little longer, battling oblivion with the resolution of a dragon slayer.

"How long was I gone this time?" you ask, hands clasping the counter more tightly and blinking fast as if that could keep the forgetting away.

"Hard to say," Jefferson answers. "A few weeks. You’re getting better."

You know he’s lying, because in the beginning, it would only take you a couple of days to remember. Now, your moments of clarity seem to be farther apart every time. "Was she nice?"

If you were going to remember any of this in a while, you’d really miss being the girl from the tea shop. You’ve been enjoying this version of things, the simplicity and the small dosages of variety, like little treats in this viscous monotony.

He shrugs with one shoulder. "She’s you."

"So, no."

His smile always seems sad these days. "So, nice in the ways that matter. You always are."

Somehow, you doubt that. "What day is it?" you ask.

"Seventeen years, six months, forty-five days."

You don’t ask him if there’s been any progress; you know there hasn’t been. Instead, you round the counter and put your arms around him. You feel him sag against you, his sigh of relief barely audible against your shoulder. You can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since Jefferson’s touched another person.

He pulls you close enough for you to feel his heartbeat in your own chest, and you barely breathe as you tighten the embrace even more, trying to hold both of you upright.

"Your hair’s getting longer again," you mumble after a very long time, dragging your thumb against the back of his neck.

"Don’t lie," he answers hoarsely, lifting his head without opening his eyes, your noses bumping before he rests his forehead against yours. "I miss you."

It breaks your heart, how easily it slips out.

Your lips seek his carefully, then more confident, because you don’t know how else to express your own feelings. This kiss, like all the ones before, is a promise you both know you won’t be able to keep.

Hope still tastes bitter on his tongue.

***

He’d always hated Wonderland, but he’d never hated it more than when he got stuck there and felt his sanity slip through his fingers a little bit more every day. Time didn’t make sense here, nothing did.

But if there was one thing that he could always rely upon, it was that you didn’t much care for sense.

"There you are." A voice as familiar as an old song woke him up from another nightmare. "What on earth are you doing in this hole?"

Jefferson opened his eyes. You were like a vision, not even paying attention to the disbelief in his eyes as you dusted off one of the useless hats.

"How," he croaked.

You chuckled a little and continued to look around the room. His cell. His locked cell with guards posted outside.

He sat up so quickly his vision went black for a moment. "How are you here?"

"You were gone so long," you said. "I was bored."

"You—" He held your cheek, your waist, your shoulder. You felt cool to the touch, but solid, real. Eyes innocent and glittering with your usual mischief, as if this was completely normal. "Have you seen Grace? Is she alright?"

"She misses you, too."

He didn’t even pay attention to it, then, but he remembered that little "too" at the end later, many, many times.

"Can you get me home?"

Your smile was soft and sad and sliced him in two all over again. You gently tugged at the bow around his neck, and then you simply said, "No."

So he raged. He bargained. He begged.

But you could not, would not budge, even though your eyes grew heavy as you listened to him. Like this was a disappointing development for you.

He already knew he was nothing more.

He stared at you when he was done, chest heaving, still on his knees in front of you even though he could no longer meet your eye. You didn’t say anything.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No," you said again. You brushed your hands through his hair and slowly sank down to his level.

It was only then that he realized tears were falling from his eyes. Gently, you wiped them off his cheeks, and then, holding his face in your hands, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before touching your own to the same spot.

"Grace sends this," you whispered.

Jefferson closed his eyes, heart twisting with that unspeakable ache.

"There’s something you need to know," you said, your voice already carrying the weight of it. As if all of this hadn’t been enough. "Something bad is coming."

"Isn’t it always?" he asked, but then he felt your magic flicker in a way it never had before. Like it was nervous.

And then lightning struck outside.

When he looked at your face, your eyes were rolled back and your magic was lashing out in all directions, clashing against the walls in terror. "There’s danger if I dare to stop and here’s a reason why," you sing-songed, unfocused, and Jefferson caught your hands before you clawed at your own face. "I’m over-due, no no no no, goodbye, hello." You hiccuped.

Dread washed through him in an icy shockwave. He’d seen you in a state of confusion before, many times, but this was different, not just overwhelmed but panicked. Your magic was literally spilling out of you now, like it was trying to escape whatever fate you’d seen coming, and you would’ve doubled over with it had he not held you upright.

"Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run run." You giggled. "Did you know I’m a bunny in a book?"

"Sweetheart, you need to focus."

The next thunder rolled outside and you screamed, but it seemed to knock some sense back into you because your eyes weren’t quite so glassy anymore when you looked at him again. "Oh, this next part won’t be fun."

Something knocked at the door and then it burst open, dark purple whirls of magic filling the room within seconds, accompanied by roaring winds and a thumping sound that reminded him of a beating heart. Your hands came up to cup Jefferson’s face and you gave him the saddest, most knowing smile he’d ever seen on you.

The wind almost swallowed your voice, but whatever magic hadn’t left you yet let him hear your words anyway.

"Some people really don’t deserve a wish."

Then, everything went black.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! you can also buy me a ko-fi if you feel so inclined <3

#jefferson x reader #jefferson fic #jefferson x you #jefferson fanfiction #jefferson oneshot #once upon a time fanfic #ouat fanfic #lavender's blue

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gallant-basilisk · 7 months

Note

Heyyy can I request a fanfic of bakugou (mha) with an s/o that age regresses (the sfw type) when stressed and overwhelmed? Like having trouble learning for a school subject or the similar, going into that regression state where bakugou comforts the s/o and overall trys and make them feel better. I hope it’s not too much or difficult ^^

Okay, so I've never written an age regression, so please pardon me!

Also, my writing is a little rusty... Btw, I'm back... As is the norm for me I've ended up ghosting y'all 'cause I put too much pressure on myself, but I think I've got things under control... Hopefully... Point is, I won't have expectations for myself to deliver weekly for example, so hopefully I won't have another burn-out like this one anymore.

Imma do all the requests you've sent me before (a long, long time ago), then i think I'll implement some changes/ new stuff

I'm considering making a poll listing some fandoms (video games and animes mostly) to expand what fandoms I write for

+ I'm also considering posting fan art here, but we'll see! ☺️

"Ghfuu..!" Your eyes skim through the sentences on the paper laid out before you, chewing on the end of the pen held in your trembling hand, and you know you're supposed to know how to solve the problem, but you don't. Somehow, no matter how many times you reread that block of text something just falls apart when you try to put it into a simple math equation. That's gotta be it, simple, easy, not at all a problem. So why? Why do you not get it? You know you're not dumb. So you really don't get why...

You have a test tomorrow, you know it's important and it's really stressing you out. But it also makes you angry at yourself- why did you choose to leave doing this to the very last moment? You knew long before how much you struggled with math already, so why didn't you start earlier? Instead, you chose to ignore it and now, sitting at your desk so late at night, you feel so mad and frustrated.

You swing your legs under the desk in frustration, feeling a thick lump in your throat as your vision blurs. You throw your pen against the wall with as much force as you can muster and bring your hands up to your eyes, desperately trying to stop the tears from welling up in your eyes and escaping.

You grit your teeth as you bite down any noises trying to escape your throat, but you can't be bothered to lessen the strength or frequency of yours kicks against the foot of your desk, the frustrated thumps heard even from outside your room.

A soft whimper is all Bakugou hears as he swings the door of your room open, ready to yell at you for making so much noise, but he freezes as he sees you in this state - distressed, inattentative. He quietly closes the door and clicks his tongue, seemingly deciding something in his head as he stalks over to your sniffling, slouched form, your back turned towards him.

"Y/N..." He calls out softly - a stark contrast to his usual explosive personality - and leans down to be level with your face, patiently waiting for any sort of reaction or acknowledgement of his presence from you.

You see him, from the corner of your eyes, but you immediately whip your head to the other side, not wanting him to see you like this. "Go away...." You mumble under your breath, the sentence filled with a childish tone of frustration as you curl up on your chair, laying your cheek on your knees as you hug them closer to yourself.

Instead of insulting you or calling you some name, as you had expected him to do, Bakugou simply sighs and continues staring at you, which frustrates you, for a reason you can't explain. "Don't... Bakugou, stop!" You hiss, waving your hand in front of him to get him to leave you alone. "Y/N, stop with the tantrum." He says firmly, his tone eerily calm as he tilts his head just the slightest bit. His eyes scan the way you sit, how you try to curl up to the best of your abilities, how your body trembles from your shaky breaths as you sniffle, trying to hold back your tears. Then he looks over at your desk, narrowing his eyes at the paper filled with moderately easy math problems. He releases another tired exhale as he sees a few darkened damp spots on the sheet, the marks of your tears, then he looks back at you.

He straightens up and looks around the desk, quickly spotting your pen that rolled right up to your trash can. He picks it up and places it neatly on the paper, waiting for a few seconds as he thinks of what to do next.

"Y/N, baby... Look at me..." He places a hand on your head, gently stroking your scalp and twirling his fingers into your hair, careful not to pull it. "Teddy bear..." He whispers softly, a small smile on the edge of his lips as his hand slides down your face and holds the side of your cheek as it were the most delicate thing, slowly tilting your head to look at him. "Baby, what's wrong?" He wipes a single tear from your eye with his thumb and strokes your skin under your eye as he stares at you with a loving gaze, something entirely reserved just for you.

You let out a frustrated huff as you stare at him, the corners of your eyes red. You pout, but keep silent as you look away, crossing your arms. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what you need help with." He says teasingly, offering you a smile as his other hand joins in holding your face, gently stroking under your eyes. You huff, grimacing at his words.

Upon realising you wouldn't tell him in a straightforward way he tilts his head towards your table and leans down closer to you, his voice much more quiet and softer than before. "Do you want..." Bakugou takes a deep breath, mustering all his mental strength to keep up this gentle front. "Do you want Pom-pom to help you with homework, teddy bear?" He takes a moment to add, "Or do you want something else right now?"

You wipe your tears and swallow, trying to force back your crying, but failing miserably. You try to speak, but your words come out as incoherent babbles, which makes Bakugou chuckle as he looks at you in an adoring way. "Do you not want to do homework right now?" You shake your head, sniffling as you continue desperately wiping your eyes. "Figured." He lets a short laugh before snaking his arms under your knees and behind your back, picking you up and cradling you close to his chest. You immediately cling to him, grasping his shirt in your hands as you lean your head on his shoulder, still crying a little. "It's okay, teddy bear, you don't need to do your homework right now, I'm sure it can wait." You look at him with a frustrated expression, wiping your face in his shirt, smearing your tears and a little bit of your snot on it. "That.... that was uncalled for." He huffs, his voice a little angry, but he tries his best to conceal it as he carries you out of the room.

"What would teddy bear would like to do, hm? Sleep?" You shake your head, biting your lip uncertainly. "Take a walk?" You shake your head again. "Okay, then how about taking a nice, warm bubble bath, and I set up a tablet so you can watch a cartoon while taking a bath?" He offers as he makes his way to the bathroom, swaying you in his arms gently. You nod as your crying softens to sniffling and one of your hands snakes up to play with his spiky hair, loving the funny texture of it as you smile.

He nuzzles your face with his own, not caring about the dampness of your cheeks as a giggle escapes you, your other hand placed on his face, playfully pushing it away. "Pom-pom..." You exhale calmly, still playing with his hair as your eyes flutter and your other hand falls down to his neck, lazily wrapping around it. He winces as he hears the name from your mouth, still not quite accustomed to being called that.

"Teddy bear.." He whispers as he shakes you a little and you open your eyes, recognizing the familiar tiling of the bathroom as Bakugou places you down carefully, holding you up until he's certain you're awake (and willing) enough to stay upright by yourself. "I'm going to run your bath, you can bring any toys you want, if you wanna play with them..." He offered as he walked over to the bathtub and turned the faucet. You nod a bit more enthusiastically as you skip over to the cabinets and open them, excitedly taking out a bunch of toys in one fell swoop and bringing them to Bakugou, who simply looks at you gently as he helps you arrange the toys on the edge of the bathtub. You jump excitedly, feeling impatient as the bathtub filling up feels like it's taking ages, looking at Bakugou with a pout. "Teddy bear, I can't do anything about it..." He says, stroking your head. You roll your eyes and pace around. The logical part of you is, well, sort-of aware of how childish you're being, so you try to tone it down a little. Though the longer you try to behave, the more it seems the bathtub is not filling fast enough and the more difficult it becomes to stay put.

You groan exaggaratedly, throwing your head back and staring at Bakugou, your face inches from him. "Y/N." He warns, briefly glancing at you before returning to tapping the tablet's screen. You let out an annoyed noise as you go around and peer over his shoulder, leaning up against him. Your hand reaches out to point at your favourite cartoon, which Bakugou humors by ruffling your hair then promptly positioning the tablet on the tablet-holder mounted on the wall.

"Happy?" He asks with a hint of irritation, but his eyes remain kind as he looks at you nodding your head, then gestures behind himself to the tub. "Your bath's ready, the towel, toys are here and you can watch your cartoon. Now be a good teddy bear and enjoy the bubble bath, yeah?" "Yeah!" You jump up enthusiastically, giggling. "Alright. I'll be right outside. If you need anything, just call out. Got it?" "Got it." "Great, good teddy bear. I'm proud of ya for being so well-behaved." You avert your gaze in embarrassment, smiling awkwardly as Bakugou leaves and closes the door.

[...]

You giddily skipped down the stairs, four plushies smothered in your arms as you quickly make your way to the couch in the living room and throw yourself on it, landing on three of the plushies, while the fourth falls to the floor. "Careful, sweetie, you might hurt yourself jumping around like that." Bakugou laughs, having grown a little more accustomed to your behaviour and feeling more receptive of your childishness.

He places down a bunch of food, snacks and some take-out he ordered whilst you were enjoying your bath, plopping down beside you and pulling a large blanket over the both of you. One of his arms reaches out and pulls you into is side, leaning his chin on the top of your head, letting out a long sigh.

Today was definitely exhausting for him, not being very good at remaining this calm for hours, but he was more than willing to do it for you.

He just prays the next time you won't be even more unruly.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #age regression #age regressor #sfw #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #comfort #reader insert #yandere #request #reader

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shutupheathersorryheatherr · 9 months

Text

“Glad you’re here”

Summery: Kevin needs some comfort one day and you reassure him. a long chat right next to you is just what he knows he needed. thats great, but somehow it leads to him in your bed and your mouth on his. you know... cause you know... you really wanna make sure he knows his worth and how much you love every part of him. oops I guess approximately a 40 min read

a/n: idk what this is man. Tumblr wouldn't let me post a longer than like two sentence post and so it's a little late. I had a dream about something like this happening like months back and now it's finally come to life! or.... not really to life but life enough lol I told one of my moots on here about the dream and she said "that's perfect fic inspo" so here we are. at this point I can't remember if the smut part was in my dream but oh well I aint complaining. I don't know if this is any good cause I haven't written smut in a minute but pleas enjoy and let me know if y'all have any hard thots or future fic suggestions. (it was so exiting when I got my first request you have no idea I felt like real writer who people actually enjoy content from and not much could top that feeling ya know) I probably won't get to them for a month lmao but still id love to hear them!

warnings/info: cursing, Kevin had a bad week, comfort, reader and Kevin’s type of relationship is never specified in this fic if that’s makes sense, kissing, smut, low key body worship, like a little bit toward Kevin from reader, oral sex (reader receiving), also Kevin fingers reader, reader is afab when it comes to smut but is gn otherwise, mentions of having to go get a condom but no sex is described, think that’s it! misspelled words and incoherentness im sure, ill fix them soon, Pls lemme know if there’s anything these

THIS IS SMUT SO MINORS DNI AND FOR THE LOVE OF GAWD HAVE AN AGE INDICATOR IN YOUR BLOG SAYING YOURE NOT A MINOR SO I DONT HAVE TO BLOCK YOU! ID HATE TO BLOCK SOMEONE WHO DOESNT NEED TO BE BLOCKED thx

~this is simply a piece of fiction. my imagination onto "paper." this is in no way meant to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

••••••••••••••••••••

a familiar knock on your door brings you out of the daze you once were in. For once you weren’t doing anything. Comfort flowing through your veins as you relaxed. You weren’t expecting anyone…. You glance at your phone to see Kevin’s profile picture pop up. A candid photo you took of him while he was laughing at something or the other on a Ferris wheel when you two were just friends. The message simply said “hey it’s me” weirdly dry and weirdly simple coming from him. but your heart still leaped for joy out of you chest when you read it. Somehow more peacefulness coming over you as you walked to let him in, though you were scared something was wrong.

you swing open the front door, still halfway looking at your phone. I mean, if you had a cute picture of him that was at your disposal at all times in your phone, you'd be looking at it still too. it was one of those pictures were only you could see. something for your eyes only... that sentiment seemed to be a running theme in your relationship. not that you minded, though. you welcomed it. relished in the feeling of being so damn close to him.

you don't even get to let out a word before his arms are around you, his head is in your stomach, and his heavy breath his flattening out your shirts wrinkles. he's on his knees as first but when he gets up you stumble backward further into your place, shutting the door with your foot. he steps back, half to regain his composer he lost the second he saw you worried about him, and half because he realized he was probably too forward. he kicks off his shoes and before you know it you can hear little quiet sniffs coming from the man.

"you good?" you ask, even though you knew that he wasn't.

he peels his face off your shirt as you tuck your phone into your back pocket so as to not have any distractions. you wanted, no needed to be fully there right now. completely zeroed in on him and whatever he needed. In a flash it was like a full 360 realization came onto Kevin. In a flash he's pulling away from you and trying to compose himself. "God, im sorry. I-I didn't mean for my visit to turn out like this." he just wanted to see your face, talk a little bit, not to break down the second he saw you. His eyes dart around as he plays with his own fingers.

You take his hand, guiding him to sit down where you previously were. and god does he really want to scoot himself as close as physically possible to you. but he doesn't want to come off too strong, or like he was needy or anything. but now he's sitting here in arms reach of you and he's nearly screaming inside for you to pull him closer. "Don't be sorry. I’m glad you’re here.” you tell him, softly but firmly. it was more than that thought, and he took the opportunity you'd given him to tell you why he was upset. "I dunno, it wasn't one big thing or anything. but sometimes... sometimes I feel like im too much, you know? or that im not doing enough all at once. But hat probably doesn't make any sense though. kinda stupid, right?" your eyebrows creased together like you were asking what the hell he meant.

Over the course of the better part of an hour he tried so so so damn hard to explain to you what he was feeling and why he thought his entire body felt like it was aching because of it. You listened for a while until you got up to bring the both of you a snack cause he looked a little hungry. he wanted to stay close to you, though, so he followed you to where you kept your snacks and back. and though he was siglent on your short walk, you could almost feel the heaviness that was within him. it seemed to seep through his pores and straight into the air. but you still listened to him, trying to put in what you thought when he needed it.

through broken sobs and quivering lips he had to bite to stop from betraying himself and what he was feeling, he stoped abruptly. "...Like right now." he said simply. "What do you mean?" You prompted. "Are you..." he needed to collect his thoughts and pick himself up, now. "Are you embarrassed of me?" You crained your neck forward, as if you somehow hadn't heard him properly and your ears had tricked you into thinking he had said what you thought he had. "um excuse me? yeah, im gonna need an explanation." you chuckled. and he couldn't help but smile along with your slight laughter. it was infectious. he didn't know why but it seemed like whatever you where feeling he started to as well.

"So far you've spent at least thirty minutes here with men trying to help me." you said. but you still weren't understanding. that was just something you'd do for him. as he'd readily do for you. it came as sedan nature to the both of you and you liked it that way. how you both were so close that either of you could just drop whatever you were doing and help the other. "Does that not seem bad to you?" you simply shook her head. "I had a dream that you were embarrassed of me and how...." he searched for the right words, "you know, needy I can get. And I know it was just s stupid dream, ok? But then I actually started thinking about it." scenes flashed through his mind, burried deep into his heart of all the times you've cared for him. whenever he's feeling insecure and he either came to you about it, or you noticed it, you helped him out of his rut. All the times he's felt sick you've rubbed his back and brought him a cold compress and Vix vapor rub. and sure, he's done these things for you as well... but right now it seemed like he was all the work and you just had to pick up his pieces.

he hated the feeling of causing you so much trouble. and he knew what you would say, too. that "oh no you're not. you need to stop thinking that way about yourself." and he knew it did. he really did know that. but what he also knew was who it seemed like he was acting. no, how he was acting. he wasn't coming to you for every single little thing but sometimes it felt too close to it for his comfort. and not only thing, but, though he knows how you've told him a million times that he's welcome and encouraged to talk things out with you or even just ask for some comfort, he's also well aware how much he's been doing it this past month.

How was it not driving you nuts already? it was sure making him pace around his living room thinking and hoping that you weren't mad at him for it. And he had tried to hold out, ok? he really did today. But then he started thinking about how you probably felt a little suffocated by his latest actions and how it portably looked to outsiders and it made him get all up in his head and that made him only want to come over more. eventually, though, he broke and now here he was feeling bad about even being here.

"you look guilty." you note. "that's cause I am." he admitted, "im sorry that its probably a little weird me coming over like this. or at least me calling you for like an hour because of these things." he swallows thickly, looking at his swinging feet, unable to stop their moving by the floor. you were about to say something but he grasped your hand, blinking a few times and you know you should just let him talk for now. "Is this not embarrassing to you? like, when you talk to people how the hell do you even mention me doing this? I wouldn't blame you if you don't.... you just, seem so happy even when im acting like an actual wreck and y-youre not tired of it? or ashamed? or--" you pull him into your chest, leaning back and bit and letting him fall into a half laying down position, wanting him to be more relaxed.

"you do this for me too, you know?"

"Yeah, but im not the now showing up and the others door like a mess right now. making you take time out of--"

"yeah, but..." you trail off for a moment as he lifts his head up to look you in the eyes. His dark soft hair is sticking up, almost comically, from you pulling at his. more massaging his scalp than anything though, but by the way you gently tugged at his strands he seemed to melt into you easier. "that's what the both of us are here for, no?" you feel him nod into your chest and your small laughter from it causes a vibration to go through your upper chest where he lays his head and into it. you take a deep breath, spurring him to do the same. and for some reason, it really calmed him. air filling his lungs along with you, it felt-- at least to him, that it connected the two of you. releasing, but really it felt like releasing all the negitivity and heaviness that weighed him down. stuck to him like a sickness, and felt like a glue on his lungs that made it hard to breath.

but now, with a clearer head, he listened to you. listened when you said there was no place you'd rather be than with him right now. listened when you told him that no, he's not embarrassing just because he has feelings and lets them out. and he even listened when you told him you're proud of him for still coming to you to talk it out. you wiped the tears from his cheeks with your thumbs and ran your hands through his hair so much it stuck up almost like from electricity. and among talking about other things, the day grew along side the both of you and your chatting. eventually his mind was eased and now taken off of what was bothering him.

===

He wondered how you could even do that, as he lay practically on top of you, wanting to fuse your skin together if he could just to get impossibly closer.

He leans in to whisper in your ear, “please. I-I I really need you closer” you look down at your bodies practically fused together, him basically on top of you, chest to chest and his warm nose, reddening from crying pressed into the crook of your neck. Puffs of air from his heavy breaths tickle your skin and you can’t help but smile as you pull him closer. “We’re already so close, Kev” but really, you knew what he meant. You felt it, too. His hardening dick pressing against your thigh. You could tell he’s trying to be inconspicuous about it, scooting away but you just pull him closer, fingers slicking around his back, thumb padding against his spine.

but you can feel him shiver against you. and not in the typical "I feel so good im practicluy purring" type of way. "You cold?" You ask. Though you know he wasn’t. The sound of him moving further on top of you come to your ears before his voice does. “You made me feel so good.” His face presses further into you neck, pressing a kiss into your rapid pulse. “I wanna make you feel good too… that ok?” You didn’t even need think about it before you nod.

a second later you're in your bed and he's laying on top of you just like before.

He keeps kissing at your neck. the pecks getting longer and more sloppy as the hand ticks on the clock, the only other soul in the room with you. he pulls you up with him so he can circle his hands around your back as yours travel under his shirt, riding it up and feeling his bare skin like it was second nature to you, but exploring like it was new to you all the while. a small smile graced his face and pulls his lips upwards ad he closes his eyes and just feels. feels your fingers on him and relishes it. his lips detach from your neck when he feels you on his lower abdomen. god he really looses his focus too quickly.

But how could he not with you, you and all your splendid glory right in front of him, feeling him up and now slipping your hands underneath the waistband of his pants, making him see stars when you start rubbing his hip bones. it made him get all tangled up in the moment it doesn't even register how you start laying him down. and at this point he doesn't really care as you capture his lips in a searing kiss that leaves the both of you feeling woozy. "open your eyes." you purswade gently. he does so, only for him to tug at the hem of your shirt. "Please," he sounds way too whiney and out of breath for the little that you have done, but he can't help it, getting a little ovewelmed by the thought and look of you, "I need more." you sit up on him, legs swung over either side of him and already dripping heat right above his.

You toss your shirt to the side and within a millisecond he's pulling you back down to him, wanting and needing to feel you on him. your chest presses against his and even though you're still wearing a bra he feels like he's in heaven. and "more" is what you start to give him; kissing down his body and telling him everything you love about him. starting with his shoulders, "you carry so much weight, mediforecly but still. Iove that bout you; how you're so willing to help shoulder a burden." you look up at him for a second, taking a break from just mumbling against his skin, "It also helps how they're so nice looking too. Gorgeous." you move to his chest, "I love you chest, know why?" he shakes his head, "its where one of the few biggest hearts I know is kept." you kiss right by where his heart is, hearing it beat rapidly under his burning hot skin. you go a bit further down his torso to his lungs, "these help you take deep breaths to calm down. im happy when you're calm so I love them." his eyes squint in a smile form your words

but suddenly he realizes as you start to kiss your way further down that-- “This is supposed to be about me making you feel good.” He pulls you up to his lips into a searing kiss that your body can't help but freeze in place from. his hips snap up into yours and you let out a surprised groan from the feeling. the pants you were wearing were thin, but still too much of a barrier from him. he stays underneath you, but now he's a bit more in control, wanting to make you feel above and beyond the love and want and all around good feeling you made him have all up until a moment ago. he sits up and his hands brush up and down your bare back, landing at your hips and keeping them there.

he just wants more. more more more until the both of you bursts. his mouth moves against yours in a way that made you think he was a dream. he sensed it too. and he only wanted to build on that feeling. he moves down to your collarbone and he has to tare himself away so as to not leave a hicky. he has to suppress a loud moan when you start moving your hips on him, grinding on his dick. he grips your hips tighter, thumbs pressing into your sides and the both of you parting lips just for a minute to look deep into each others eyes. he's knows that stare on you, though. a look of longing he wants noting more than to satisfy.

His hand hand travels down your torso to palm your throbbing core needing attention. the heel of his palm rubbing at your clit while his lingers work on your interance. even through the clothes you can't help but sigh in pleasure from his actions. Eventually you just can't take it anymore and you start humping his hand, wanting to realize but also not wanting to peel yourself away for more than a moment to take off your bottoms. under you, Kevin, hard as ever now, let out a whine into your mouth at your lust for him. it seemed like you no only had one thing on your mind and he loved it, chased after that need you felt and tried to expound on it.

you break away from him a moment later though cause, fuck this really isn't getting me anywhere. And help him tug his shirt up and over his head he complies it in his hand and puts it to the side to be long forgotten as you link your hands behind his neck and lean back with him as he chases your lips. he smiles into the kiss and it makes you do the same; a quite moment that wasn't ruined by him gently pulling at the waist band of your bottoms in question and you nodding against him. "oh yes please," you breath out, almost relieved, "I have to have you. thought you'd never ask." your tilt your head back, though you're not quite sure what for until he plants another open mouthed kiss on your sweet spot and you feel like blushing and moaning at the same time.

"Me too," he admits In your ear almost as a whisper, a secret only the two of you were able to share. "I wan-- need you closer." his fingers dance down, down, down, until he finds the wet patch you've made on your underwear. God he fucking needs it on his face, tasting you, smelling you, feeling you around him. better yet, why not get it straight from the source? damn it now he needs you on his face too. all the while he's rubbing you just how he knows youll shiver with pleasure and writhe on top of him, you're eyes are closed. and now thinking of it... and wanting you to know about it, makes him get a little bit bolder. "eyes on me, darling," he mimicked what you had said to him earlier. except this one was less commanding. he starts rubbing faster on your clit, making you pull him closer.

he can't take it anymore; with his free hand he begins to palm himself over his pants "I need you to see how you make me feel." you open your eyes to see the erotic sight right in front of you. his head thrown back and stroking himself over his sweats. you can tell he doesn't know what to make or do with himself. and to be completely honestly neither do you. his tongue is poking out to wet his lips as a high pitched keen meets your ears.

He feels like he really does need to-- need to show you how hard you make him. how else is he supposed to help you to understand all that he wants you to right now? You scoot his hand out of the way and replace it with your own "do I get you like this?" he presses his lips together and nods, barely able to form words with your hand moving on him now. "mmhm only you." the confession made you smile but you weren't able to continue the moment when he shifts so that you drop your hand and lay down further. "remember? you." he chuckles. he returns his hands to your heat, you tugging down your bottoms in the process.

Now that he sees you clad in just your underwear and bra, he can't help but crawl back up to eye level and give a quick peck to your lips. it was too fucking sweet to describe. with a cute smile pulling at his lips, he backs up and his fingers return to pleasure you. your underwear was sticking to your pussy uncomfortably now, wet patch now more visible. and as much as he wanted to tease you more, he also knew what you needed. he rolls down your underwear just as he would any other time. that was one of the things you loved about him, you thought as he dips his fingers into your wetness, testing the waters. you didn't know he was going to come over, you deffintly didn't know that it was going to turn into this. it wasnt like you wore anything special and dressed up, but he still loved it all. noticed was amiss, noting changed.

that was one of the reasons why you didn't mind having to spend so much time comforting him. cause he does the same for you an no matter if you dressed up or not he still gave you what you needed, not just sexually but in general. so of course you'd treat him the same way.

You make a sound of pleasure and now he's hooked, chasing more form you. dropping his entire body down further, he comes face to face with your glistening cunt. the fact that he made you like this-- god can barely think because of it. he takes an experimental lick up your folds and holds his tongue at your clit, putting hot, wet, and steady pressure on it. the muscle moves a bit more, kitten licking at your hole, sucking at your clit, and doing all the things that makes you wanna combust.

his tongue goes in and out, poking inside your gummy walls. and he feels like he's in heaven with you right now. He can barely handle it as he feels you clench around noting and you whisper out his name over and over again, pulling at his hair, tighter than before, bringing him impossibly closer. he grasps your hips to pull your up and even closer. the new angle hitting just right you can't help my moan. "fuck-- I-- I need--" you don't even know what you need at this point you just want more of this, more of him. He's eating you like a starved man, already drunk on how you taste on his tongue, wanting more.

While his tongue works on in between your folds his nose is getting wet bumping at your clit. His hands on your hips makes it perfect to grind on his face. but he doesn't mind, invites it, actually. He just holds out his tongue and lets you grind your way dangerously close to your high. He starts to move along with you, matching your movements as his dick twitches in his pants. the added pressure is just what you needed to go over the edge. you start to slow your movements on him, him picking up the pace so to help you ride it out. his hips rock into the mattress, wanting and needing to feel more. you're sounds proving to be too much without himself feeling something. You're moaning and groaning and whining along with him against you as you feel pure euphoria rush through you like a wave of perfection.

You try to even out your breath as he rubs at your hip bones, sitting up to keep himself from grinding on the bed, he can already tell he's not gonna last long enough to have you later too. "You--" you don't even know what to say as he brings you up with him, you know sitting on his thigh and you don't know if you can take it anymore. neither can he, seeing you cum-- it took everything in him not to follow along with you. he can't help but thrust his hardness up, barely feeling you in the end but he needs something, anything. just the thought of himself feeling your slick on his cock. that's all he needs, really; your wetness on him. he just needs to feel it. so he keeps going, angling his thrusts towards your pussy. he fucks himself into you, needing to feel you on him.

he locks his lips on yours as you rut yourself on his thigh. your fingers that were in his hair unties his pants and inches them down enough so that he get thrust up, getting his tip wet through one less layer. The feeling makes him press his lips harder on yours. he whines into your mouth and you don think you've ever heard a sound prettier. his hands are griping your hips, traveling to your back to bring you closer. you're grinding on his thigh as he tries to grind onto yours, the slick that travailed down your thigh making it easy to slide, rubbing up and down, his mind blank.

he's almost looses sight again with his lips moving in sync with yours. He breaks the kiss to watch his own hand go down to capture your release on them, fucking it back into you when you urge him to hurry up. he curls his fingers right where you want him to, pumping them in and out at the same pace he was thrusting into your thigh. you had just came so the feeling was ten times stronger than before. He senses what you're feeling and pecks your lips one more time before driving his fingers back into your heat. "give me one more? please I know you can." he nearly pleads with you.

You hump his palm, chasing your own high. a slow and intimate grind but enough to get you what you want and need. he feels woozy because of the feeling of your cream lathering up his fingers and forming a ring around the base, now dripping onto his palm as he watches his fingers roll in and out. a moment later and you're releasing all over his hand, his whining while he humps your leg taking it to a whole new level as you moan out in pleasure. and now he's rubbing the slick you've given him back into your pussy

your lips are back on his in an instant, unable to stay away for long after the leg shaking orgasm he gave you. he looks down at his boner. not realizing he had cum along with your with his release making a wet patch all on the front of his boxers. "you're still hard?" you chuckle. "For you? always." he smiles, more of a smirk than anything, back at you. breathing heavy and labored and eyes squinted.

"Do you have a condom?" he asks, half actually asking and half wondering aloud if you wanted to go any further, "I don't think I can keep on seeing you look so perfect without doing anything about it any longer." he wonders if he's even making sense. but when you peck his lips and reach over to your nightstand. he freezes, but he's back to life in a second when you turn to him with one.

“aren’t you glad you’re here?” You laugh, “you get to share you feelings and we get to have each other.”

He’s sure the way you said it must be a joke I’m some way but yeah, he's really glad he came over.

~end~

please leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed!!

taglist: @itz-yerin

#kevin moon smut #kevin moon x reader #the boyz kevin #tbz kevin #kevin moon #kevin moon fluff #ghosts writing #im realizing now that I forgot which of the five million blogs yerin has she wanted me to tag

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sunnywalnut · 2 months

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I've got so many new followers....

Uh.... hi? Everyone?

Nice to meet y'all. ^^

As for intros..

My name is Sunny. Or Walnut. SW. Sun. Wal. Whatever you like, honestly. I'm not picky. And I do like nicknames so I'm vibing .

I am a man. So he/him for me, please. Though if you wanna use neos, I'm fine with that too. I find them interesting.

19 years of age. Yes I'm young. No I'm not a child.

I do the occasional motivational post, both for myself and everyone else, as well as long winded poetry about people I miss and love, and just random shitposts with a dash of Internet activism. Because I like it when the world is a better place and you should too.

DNI: homophobes, transphobes, fatphobes, racists, sexists, Zionists, antisemits, ableists, and all the other big bads. If you drop comments harassing people, I will delete and block you. That won't fly here. This is my space and you will respect it as such.

I have recently turned off anon asks because of this. You can, however, send me asks and request to be anonymous when I respond to them! I will simply just screenshot the ask, crop out your url/name, and reply to it in my own post.

And please, if you are under the age of 17/18, don't dm me. As cool as it is chatting to y'all in comments and reblogs, I just don't feel comfortable with the intimacy of dm with minors ^^ nothing personal. Just trying to keep everyone safe.

That all being said, if I actually DO post something that is harmful or doesn't sit right, please let me know in a respectful manner!

My intention is never to hurt people!! I know for a fact that I can get caught up in my own head and my words can get jumbled (as can anyone's) so I am more than willing to listen and learn, as well as explain my points of speaking.

Keep in mind. I am Autistic. Meaning I have a mental disability that sometimes makes it harder to make connections between words and emotion, reading tone, and also making sure that my words are clear and concise.

If you have a problem or disagreement with anything I have said, it would be very much appreciated if you would be kind, direct, and respectful when explaining it to me. I might not get it at first, so I will ask clarifying questions, but it's only ever to understand the situation thoroughly.

Thank you and have a good day!

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grisailledreams · 11 months

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Please put the beauty industry on blast for often treating chronic incurable skin conditions and even stuff like mild temporary acne as things you can just ~solve~ by buying expensive creams/treatments, “drinking more water,” or “not being fat/dirty.” 🙃

OOOOOOOHHHHH MY GOD I WILL BLAST THEM ALL DAY FOR THIS.

Also Christ, I went through so many drafts of this because I just kept rambling because there is SO MUCH to say about this, way more than what I have here. Kristin and I have talked about this kind of thing S O much. Under a cut because it is LONG.

First and foremost: There are no skin conditions that come to mind that involve being fat or dirty. N O N E. As my instructor likes to say, "Did you rub dirt on your face? Then you're not dirty." I won't even elaborate on the fat thing because that's just ridiculous and honestly boils down to the same thing (because of course "Fat People are Dirty Sweaty Grease-Soaked Slobs"). Y'all wanna know what causes most of the common disorders?

Acne - Genetics/hormones, friction, or skin sensitivities. Congrats, you're really good at producing sebum, a vital component of your skin's protective barrier!

Keratosis Pilaris - Genetics, occasionally made worse by harsh exfoliation. Congrats, you're really good at producing keratin, the building block protein that makes up skin, hair, and nails!

Rosacea - Who the Fuck Knows, but the National Rosacea Society hypothesizes that it's either down to the way your immune and neurovascular systems function, serious systemic diseases (none of which are Obesity), or a species of mite that everyone has on their skin already.

Psoriasis - Immune disorder.

Eczema - Who the Fuck Knows, probably a combo of genetics and environmental factors.

HS - Who the Fuck Knows, but probably genetics/hormones.

All of these things have flare-ups or cyclic behavior, btw. Flareups can have a hundred causes, it just depends on the individual! Stress is common across the board, but it's far from the only one. What doesn't happen? Get breakouts or flare-ups by being Dirty or Fat or Eating Poorly. Your skin just Does Stuff. So many genetic disorders come down to "My skin makes More or Less of something than is ideal for my body" or "My body is Very Protective of me." Literally, every disorder pretty much comes down to genetics, illness, or Who the Fuck Knows (because there is not enough research being done on way too many disorders). And none of this is simply "fixed" or "cured" by throwing money at the problem, regardless of what anyone tells you.

Does a skincare routine make your skin feel good? Sure! Soft skin feels nice and might give your mental health a boost because you're doing something nice for yourself most days. Also you do a lot of blood flow stimulation in the process and that might make you feel a bit more energized. But if you have a disorder and you feel like you've Tried Everything to no avail, it is not your fault, either. Skin, entire functioning organ that it is, is so much more complex than a skincare routine makes it seem.

My biggest takeaway from this education has just been Bodies Do Stuff and Everyone's Skin is Different. If you have a skin disorder, including all the hundreds of disorders I didn't mention, you are not dirty or bad or gross. Your skin just Does Stuff and the Beauty and Wellness industries are really bad at saying, accepting, and teaching this - it doesn't make money, after all.

#thank you kriddin for letting me put them on blast <3 #skincare #beauty industry #i'm sorry if i missed something pls feel free to add to this #this is a huge topic and can't be condensed easily #skin #it's all just skin folks it's gonna be fine #skincare asks

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gutouhua · 2 years

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𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯

title. tamed (shrine master’s bride part v) [on ao3]

rating. explicit

pairing. sukuna x f. reader

wc. 8.6k+

tags. low self-worth & self-esteem, mentions of ownership, sukuna has monster-like features (like elongated canines), eating fish, sukuna thinks about eating out reader, physical abuse to reader (not by sukuna), no beta we die like rex lapis

a/n. um idk how to feel about this ch but here it is ;-; can you tell i hate writing action scenes since i literally skipped over the action lmao. but omg thank y'all for hanging on & sorry i couldn't update earlier sldkfjskdf i had writer's block but hope this longer chapter makes up for it! no smut but next ch will feature face-sitting :D

“Do you think she knows?” A servant whispered to another. He trimmed the bushes lining the pathway to the main entrance of the Shirogane family’s residence with his back slightly turned so that his voice wouldn’t reach too far. There were eyes and ears everywhere so it never hurt to be too careful.

“Probably not.” The other replied, stopping momentarily to lean closer, his tone conspiratorial. “It’d be quite obvious if she knew…she’d be throwing a fit and whatnot, making her unhappiness known to everyone. It’s a good thing she doesn’t know otherwise we’d all be suffering and–”

“What are you whispering about?”

The two servants suddenly jumped at the sound of the Shirogane family’s prized daughter and immediately bowed their heads low in practiced prostration in hopes of appeasing her. But she would not be so easily tempered – she was used to bows like that, courtesy and respect weren’t given to her, it was owed to her. She didn’t give them permission to get up, so they stayed as they were, not daring to move or so much as utter a sound until she said something.

Hikaru had gloved hands crossed over her chest, fingers tapping impatiently against an arm. Trailing behind her was her poor maid, heaving and lagging behind her master with arms full of large, fancy boxes and decorated bags. Hikaru had probably just returned from a shopping trip in the city.

“Well?” she said, expectantly.

Neither of the servants bothered pointing out that they didn’t dare say anything since she hadn’t explicitly asked them because answering her prematurely could very well be a death sentence. Servants were reliant on the whims of their masters, and Hikaru was not a kind one.

“Are you going to tell me? Or shall I have the two of you strung up and inject mercury into your veins until you say something?”

They shuddered and fought the urge to cry out. Tales of the infamous torture technique of the Shirogane family were well known throughout the lands. It was a cruel method, one that slowly replaced every drop of blood in your veins with the silver mercury of the Shirogane family until nothing but mercury flowed through your body and your flesh bled pure silver.

One servant spoke hesitantly while the two kept themselves in prostrated positions. “We were…just wondering if my lady had heard that with my lady’s upcoming pre-nuptial celebration with Kamo Masaru that–”

“Well of course I know that,” she snapped, tapping her heels impatiently on the immaculately laid out stone path. “Tell me something I don’t know, or is that too much thinking for lowlifes like you? Too dumb and stupid to do anything except listen to your masters.” she sneered.

“Ah yes!” The servant squeaked, thin frame trembling like a leaf in the wind. “We were simply unsure if you heard that your cousin–”

“What about my cousin?” she interrupted again, staring hard at the cowering servant.

“That your cousin was going to come…” he finished lamely.

Hikaru was silent for a moment, long enough for the servants to sneak a peek at her before averting their gaze yet again when she screeched out a reply. “She’s coming? But that’s impossible! She can’t come because she should’ve–” Been killed or eaten or whatever by that monster! How was it possible that you were still alive, and not just alive, but well enough to return to the family home? It was impossible. Unbelievable. Hikaru wouldn’t believe anything about you until she heard from her grandmother.

Without even looking to see if her servant was following, she stormed through the main entrance in a hurry, disappearing in a flurry of voluminous skirts and ribbons and laces. The two servants who were trimming the bushes earlier cast Hikaru’s servant a sympathetic glance, but it was ultimately lost on her since she could hardly see atop her towering tower of boxes.

When they’d both left, the two servants turned towards each other and said the same thing to each other.

Fuck.

Hikaru stormed through the hallways, anger in every thunderous step she took. Any servant or Shirogane family member who saw her knew to flee as soon as they heard and saw the fury on her face.

Hikaru needed answers. And she needed them now.

“Grandmother! Grandmother! Where are you?”

Shirogane Hatsuko sat behind her desk with a steaming cup of tea in one hand, the other on a book, and had her eyes closed, breath even, as she readied herself for whatever demands Hikaru was about to launch forth.

“Grandmother!” Hikaru slammed the door open with such force that the walls shook.

Hatsuko turned to the source of her disturbance, face wrinkled in great displeasure. “Hikaru. What have I said about slamming open doors? It’s unbecoming of the future head of the Shirogane family.” Not that Hikaru had to abide by any rules as the future head. She was the golden child, spoiled, and whatever rebukes Hatsuko had for her ultimately flew right over her head as she believed none of them applied to her.

“I’m sorry grandmother,” Hikaru said impatiently, not at all sorry. She plopped herself down in a cushion across from her grandmother, her layered skirts spread haphazardly in her haste. “But, grandmother! Do you even know what I heard from a servant just now? Something terrible!”

The Shirogane head took one look at her angry granddaughter, closed her eyes, and counted to three with practiced precision before she opened them slowly. She exhaled. “And pray tell me, Hikaru, what exactly did you hear?”

“That she's coming to my nuptial celebration! Is it true?”

Hatsuko set her tea cup on the table and smoothed non-existent wrinkles out of her kimono before placing her hands on her lap. “Yes it is, Hikaru. Your cousin is coming to the celebration, which should not be surprising to you. She is family, after all. Why are you so concerned?”

Hatsuko knew why, but politeness and niceties were sewn into every fiber of her being, in every word and every action, and this extended even to those she found unpleasant. And especially to family.

“Because I don’t want her to come,” she whined, squirming in her seat. “Can you find some way for her not to come? Make up an excuse or something? She’s such an eyesore and an absolute disgrace to our family! Imagine what the others would say if they saw her at the celebration! They’d make fun of me, I just know it!” Flinging herself across her grandmother’s tears, Hikaru wept, fat, theatrical tears, wetting her grandmother’s expensive kimono in the process. “You have to do something about it or I fear I will never recover from the shame, please grandmother!”

Hatsuko looked down at Hikaru and wondered how two people so close in age could be so different from each other. While you were humble and quiet, and lacked confidence and the inherited skills of the Shirogane family, Hikaru was arrogant and ostentatious, and confident, audacious even, in her cursed technique.

“She’s already been invited.” Hatsuko’s tone was final with no room for argument, but nevertheless, she tried to placate Hikaru, smoothing her black tresses which were curled and pinned up in a western fashion that she didn’t entirely approve of, but Hikaru liked it so she let her do as she pleased.

“Well just uninvite her or something,” Hikaru said petulantly against Hatsuko’s lap.

“I cannot, for it would be improper and reflect badly upon our family if we did not invite her.” Hatsuko worded her words carefully, knowing that if nothing else, Hikaru valued her reputation, and as such might see reason with her response.

Hikaru thought about it for a moment, brows knitted in deep thought, before she raised her head, frowning at her grandmother. “Fine.” She jutted her lower lips out. “But she has to be placed at the back, far away from the front of the table. Put her near all the lower-class families and branches. She’s already lucky enough to be invited so it shouldn’t be an issue for her.”

“If that is what you wish,” Hatsuko accepted. “Then I will arrange it as such.” It pained her to have to treat you like that, to add another heaping dose of prejudice into your overflowing cup, but there was little she could truly do.

Hikaru brightened immediately, already getting up and bounding towards the door upon completion of her task. “Thank you so much, grandmother! I knew you loved me more than her!”

Something deep inside Hatsuko twisted, like barbed wire embedding itself into flesh, and she fought the rise of bile that threatened to spill forth with her lies. She cleared her throat and straightened herself. “Of course, dear. You are the pride and joy of the Shirogane family. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know,” she said sweetly, bouncing up and towards the door since she got what she wanted. Now she just had to devise a plan to humiliate you. Your husband probably wouldn’t deign to come with you because there was no way he’d love you enough to do so, so it would be easy to torment you.

A devious smile stretched across her beautiful face. “I’ll be going now! I can’t wait for the celebration!”

Hatsuko smiled thinly and watched her Hikaru leave, the giddy hum of the young woman an ominous sign of chaos to come.

In the days leading up to Hikaru’s nuptial celebrations and your informal visit back to the family, you’d felt listless and nervous, busying yourself with every task under the sun, almost robbing Momoka of all her tasks. Worried that you’d exhaust yourself, Sukuna had pulled you aside the day before, locked you in your shared room, and had so thoroughly fucked you multiple times that you felt too boneless to do anything.

Sukuna had accomplished his mission. And you had felt relaxed…until the next day.

“Do I look okay?” You fretted, mirror in hand as you meticulously smoothed your hair and every wrinkle you thought might be in your clothes.

Sukuna kissed the crown of your head, breathing in a mixture of jasmine from your shampoo and his favorite musky scent unique to you. “Of course, wife, you look stunning as per usual.”

“N-Not now,” you said nervously, stomach a coiled mess of knots and strings.“Or you’ll mess up my hair.” And much more than that.

“Then later?” he asked, heavily. His eyes dripped with liquid crimson, a syrupy promise of sweet desire and fulfillment.

You knew that look, found yourself craving it sometimes throughout the day (much to your distress), and pressed your thighs together at the sudden dull ache between your legs. “Yes, later,” you murmured.

The carriage hit a rock, almost jolting you from your seat, but Sukuna steadied you by trapping your legs inside his. The confined space made you overly aware of just how close he was, so close that you could feel the heat from his thighs seep into your kimono. He stayed like that, pressed against your legs, until he was satisfied and released his hold, leaving you bereft of his warmth.

Before you could dwell on the loss, he shifted over to make room for you on his side of the carriage, patting the space next time him in a silent command for you to come over. You started to get up, bending gingerly before he suddenly moved and tucked himself on your side of the carriage, almost squishing you with his massive frame. It would appear that one side of the carriage was just barely enough room for you and him.

“I was going to come over.” You gaped at him.

“But how could I let you do that? Especially with you wobbling all over the place? See.” He placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh lightly. “Even now, you’re shaking.”

You spluttered an excuse. “T-That’s because the carriage is moving! It’s not because of anything else!”

“Of course, wife.” He flashed white teeth, canines glinting sharply, dangerously close yet you weren’t afraid. There was something alluring about it, you thought, unconsciously leaning closer before you were mere inches from his lips.

A throaty chuckle broke you from your trance and you lurched backward, hoping he wouldn’t think too much about it.

“Sorry–I…didn’t mean–” Embarrassment colored your tone.

“Fascinated by them, are you, love?”

“They’re pretty,” you admitted, voice low like it was a secret. “I don’t know why I never noticed them until now.”

“They’re not so prominent unless I get excited.”

“Excited?” You cocked your head a bit to the side, confused. But why would he be excited right now?

“Aroused,” he amended with a sly smile. Sukuna kept his eyes trained on you, relishing the growing blush he could clearly see under the moonlight because of his enhanced senses.

Oh.

Now that you thought about it, between bouts of lovemaking you hazily remembered seeing flashes of sharp canines, and could faintly remember accidentally touching something sharp momentarily when kissing him sometimes.

“If you keep looking at me like that, wife, I’ll want to devour you myself,” Sukuna drawled.

He would’ve had time for a short romp before the party if you’d agreed to let him teleport the two of you, but you had insisted on a “proper carriage” for appearance's sake since you’d claimed that your family would look down on him if he showed up on foot without a carriage. Sukuna could care less of what they thought of him, that’s how he’d lived for the past hundreds of years, after all, but if you wanted something, he would be remiss to not oblige.

“We’re almost there.” He opened the carriage’s window and inhaled deeply, wrinkling his nose at what he smelled. Indeed, the two of you were almost at the Shirogane residence. The stench of humans was growing stronger.

When he looked back at you to find you fussing with your hair again, he said, “You look perfect, love. Don’t worry.”

“Easier said than done,” you mumbled, but you ceased your motions, instead placing your hands in your lap and interlacing your fingers to tightly squeeze them to take off some of the stress you were feeling.

When the carriage finally stopped before the entrance to your former home, a servant announced aloud that Ryomen-sama and his wife had arrived, a cue that it was time to leave. You moved on instinct, having to open doors for yourself for as long as you could remember, you thought that it’d be no different now that you were married. But Sukuna leaned over, his massive frame almost engulfing the moonlight from your vision, and held a hand over yours, stopping you from pushing open the door.

“Allow me.”

In an effortless motion, he pushed it open then opened the door from his side and held a hand out for you when he reached your side to help you out. You took his hand gingerly, familiar callused warmth keeping you warm despite the slight chill, and slowly stepped out. Your kimono had more layers than you were used to, hair ornaments were a bit heavy, and your sandals were slightly higher than usual, so you didn’t want to trip and make a fool of yourself.

You appreciated the gesture. Loved him even more for it.

Even though you shouldn’t.

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you held his hand.

He nodded, a handsome smile gracing his face, and placed his free hand at the small of your back to help steady you as the two of you made your way into the main residence and waited in the main hall with the other guests. You waited for him to let go of you, to put some distance in between the two of you, but he didn’t even as more attendees filed into the room.

Trying to get his attention, you tip-toed, accidentally pulling his sleeve when you lost your balance for a moment.

“Oh–sorry,” you whispered nervously.

“Nothing to be sorry about, love. I’d even kneel for you if you wanted me to.” He laughed, drawing the attention of a few people nearby. “That’s how much you’ve tamed me.”

Tame. The word felt foreign on your tongue, sticky seductive honey that held the implication of sweet domesticity and something more that lodged uncomfortably in your throat. A quiet knot of ownership.

You swallowed hard, giving him an aggrieved look while hotness crept up your neck.

Sukuna could tease you all day long, loved to see those cute expressions of yours, thought it was endearing how you squirmed and grew red under his gaze, but he knew there was only so much you could take before you combusted. “You are much too cute for your own good, little wife, but tell me. What is it that you wanted to say?”

“I–” You frowned, thinking of what you were going to say before the hand he had rested around your waist tightened infinitesimally, reminding you of your request. “I was going to ask when you were going to let go of me.”

“Never.” His response was immediate and razor-sharp as if to slice through any doubts.

“I see,” you murmured. But perhaps in the future. No one ever held on to you for very long, whether by choice or not.

Noticing your slight change in mood, Sukuna asked, “Would you like something to eat? Or something to drink?” His voice was gentle, red eyes trained carefully on you while he scanned his peripheral for a servant, ready to flag one down to get something for you. If you were hungry or thirsty, he’d make sure you had something to eat and drink no matter when the actual banquet started. He didn’t run on other’s time, they ran on his.

“N-No…I’m fine…Just stay here.” Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d even be able to keep anything down anyway and who knew when you’d see Hikaru. It’d be better to have someone you were comfortable with just in case.

“Very well,” Sukuna acquiesced, but he was still careful and led you to an empty seat at the end of the table, eyes narrowing when he saw table cards with his and your name there. If he didn’t know any better, he’d make a fuss over having to sit in such a demeaning position for his rank, but he knew you wanted to be as far away as possible from your cousin so he stayed silent, fury boiling and covered just barely by your presence.

As guests slowly filtered into the room, taking their respective seats at the large table, you watched the door with a wary gaze, trying to prepare yourself for your cousin. After what seemed like a millennia of holding your breath and remembering to exhale when you felt like you couldn’t breathe, you saw her.

Hikaru wore a heavy-looking sakura pink kimono with chrysanthemums embroidered throughout and a matching floral ornament in her hair. Her glossy black hair was styled high on her head and her pale skin contrasted with the shiny red lacquer on her lips and nails. She was a vision of perfection, especially on the arms of Kamo Masaru, a talented cursed blood technique user and the heir to the Kamo family.

Instinctually, you shifted away and averted your eyes, trying to hide behind Sukuna’s large frame in the hopes that she wouldn’t see you, but there was no mistaking her cold gaze, like icy daggers that were softened only by the warm, sturdy presence next to you.

If you were more confident in yourself, perhaps you would’ve stared back and made her think that you had nothing to be afraid of, but even as you were now, technically married up into a higher position than her, you knew that you stood no chance against her.

Noticing the way you uneasily tensed, Sukuna leaned forward, imperceptibly, as if he was casually rearranging heavy limbs, and purposefully gave your cousin an aloof, cursory glance before passing over her as if he was viewing a speck of lint on his kimono.

Hikaru, who was so used to fawning and words of flattery, could not help but scrunch her pretty face up at Sukuna’s dismissal before she realized the number of eyes that were on her and carefully schooled her features back to place with a serene smile. Anyone looking at her wouldn’t have noticed the minute change in her expression, but you were attuned to them. Had learned to read Hikaru’s emotions because your life depended on it.

When Hikaru finally seated herself near the head of the table, primly folding herself into a perfect seiza position, she turned towards your direction and raised her voice to address your husband. Unbidden panic threatened to spill forth, and you fought to stifle it, smothering it best you could. You would not allow it to bring shame to Sukuna or ruin Hikaru’s celebration.

Calm down, calm down, you repeatedly told yourself, ignoring the anxiety that seeped into every word you chanted while trying to keep your attention on the conversation at the same time.

“I’m glad you could join us from so far away, Ryomen-sama,” Hikaru said pleasantly. “I trust that your journey here was not too arduous?”

Sukuna nodded. “Fine,” he said curtly.

Then she turned her attention to you, voice so saccharine that it made your bones ache, but not sweetly, as it should’ve felt when a family member welcomed you back home, but sickly, like when you eat too many sweets in one sitting. It made you feel nauseous.

“And you, cousin, how are you doing? How is your married life?”

Sukuna drew himself back a few inches so he wasn’t blocking your view. Now that Hikaru had so blatantly addressed you in front of everyone, Sukuna could no longer shield you anymore and you could not just ignore her. There was no way out except to respond.

You took a steady breath in, steeling your emotions and willing your voice to not waver when you spoke or give anyone else more reason to think that Sukuna had gotten the short end of the stick in marrying you. Nothing could mask your plainness when compared to Hikaru and her stunning features.

“I-I’m doing fine, thank you,” you replied, hating the way your voice pitched higher from your nerves.

Hikaru frowned. “Just fine? Why cousin, it seems to me that Ryomen-sama treats you more than just fine.”

You scrambled to respond when you realized that in your bubble of anxiety that you missed her second question. “Oh I meant—”

“In fact,” she continued, completely ignoring you, “I feel that he treats you more than just fine.”

She lowered her gaze to peruse your appearance, lips curling at the sight of your expensive garments and hairpins. You fought the urge to hide from her scrutiny.

“Look at that stunning kimono you have on right now. It is nishijin-ori, is it not? I’ve heard that that fabric is extremely rare, usually reserved for royalty and the most expensive fabric in Japan, costing more than a year’s worth of wages for most commoners. And the fact that it was created by the Aoki family, the most famed tailors throughout the land yet you’re still unsatisfied…”

Hikaru huffed, disapproval etched into her face. “That isn’t very becoming of someone from the Shirogane family. What would others say if they knew such a greedy, materialistic person came from our esteemed family? It would tarnish our good name! Why must you act like this, cousin?”

You looked around frantically as people began to murmur and nod in agreement, accepting her words like they were the law despite the fact that she was very, very wrong. Panic settled coldly in your bones, freezing any confidence you thought you had.

You were more than grateful that Sukuna had even bothered to buy you new clothes — especially tailored pieces that weren’t premade — and you knew that the Aokis were famous for their clothes, but that was it. Unaware of the fact that he had Aoki-kun make your kimono out of nishijin-ori, you’d simply viewed the kimono as a pretty, treasured gift — certainly not one that was predominantly reserved for royalty. Had you known, you would’ve never let him do that or wear the kimono to the banquet.

“I…I didn’t–it’s not like that–” You were losing already, and you’d hardly even said anything. The whispers and stares continued to grow the longer the silence dragged on, until the weight of it all began to push against your chest and squeeze the air out of your lungs, forcing you to draw in short, shallow breaths.

You heard a quiet crack next to you, drawing your attention to your husband. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his hands gripped the edge of the table with such fury that you swore he would’ve broken the wood in half had you not tugged on his sleeve. Twisting sharply, you were met with blazing, infernal eyes that cooled instantly upon seeing your distress.

“Love,” he murmured, ignoring the stares of your family. “Do you want to leave?”

It hurt, the familiar pressure clawing at your throat, the burdensome stares of your family, the helplessness you felt. You weren’t sure what would be worse: suffering the shame of leaving with your tail tucked between your legs or staying and being unable to respond to Hikaru’s humiliating jabs. No matter what you chose, you’d lose. You always lost against her. It was inevitable.

When you didn’t answer, Sukuna whipped to face Hikaru with fiery eyes and sharp teeth bared at her, barely able to contain the growl in his voice. “Let’s get one thing straight, Hikaru. It was my decision to buy the clothes despite the fact that she didn’t want them. And I wanted her to wear them because as my wife, she should have garments befitting her station, should she not?”

“Or did you expect her to wear something cheap like the kimono she wore when she arrived at my shrine? Or servant’s garbs like the ones she wore before I had Aoki-kun tailor new garments for her? Or wait, don’t tell me–” His tone turned savage, pretty lips curled up in disgust. “The Shirogane family is so poor that they cannot outfit my wife in proper garments. No wonder.”

A collective gasp of horror sucked the air from the room, leaving you feeling light, almost heady from the twist of pleasure you got. There was finally someone to put your family back in place and even if it wasn’t yourself, you welcomed it nonetheless. Your turn would come, but for now it was more than enough that Sukuna would help you despite having no obligation to do so. You were forever grateful to him.

“Ryomen-sama you dare—”

“Hikaru.” A sharp command sliced through your cousin’s words, demanding acquiescence, and you looked towards the source of that voice, knowing that there was only one person who Hikaru had to obey.

Your grandmother.

She’d aged since you’d last seen her, new lines in her forehead and grooves that burdened her silver eyes, and you wondered if there was some issue that she had to deal with while you were gone or if she was truly beginning to grow old.

Growing up, you always thought of her as some sort of invincible, never-aging, powerful being — she certainly seemed that way especially when your parents were alive — but now you weren’t so sure. With Hikaru getting married to the Kamo heir, it became increasingly clear that she was getting old, tired even, and was ready to step down from her place and let Hikaru lead.

Your grandmother retiring was a good thing, but you couldn’t help the aching pang of knowing your cousin would inherit the title that was supposed to be yours. But perhaps it would be better anyway, you thought, you had nothing to offer to your family, and Hikaru could be a nasty person to you, but she never did anything to truly endanger your father’s family.

You continued to stare intently at your grandmother as she gave Hikaru a firm glance before turning to address your husband.

“Ryomen-sama.” Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it. “On behalf of my unruly granddaughter, I apologize for her insolence and rude behavior towards you. I hope you will be willing to overlook her mistakes on behalf of the Shirogane family.” Your grandmother bowed low, the lowest you’d ever seen her bow, before sitting at the head of the table.

Sukuna did not want to forgive her at all, but you’d want him to so he flicked his eyes briefly at your grandmother before turning his attention back to you. “Only because my wife wants to forgive.” I do not.

Decades of diplomacy and leading a family as prominent as the Shirogane had honed Hatsuoko’s skills, and she took that as a sign to move on to a different conversation. Her tone grew gentle. “My dear granddaughter. I am very happy to have you back home and see you doing so well. I trust that the journey here was not too difficult? I know that Ryomen-sama’s shrine is a bit far from here.”

You fought to keep the smile out of your voice since propriety was necessary in public. “Thank you grandmother, I’m happy to see you as well. Everything went smoothly, nothing to worry about.

Thin lips turned up slightly at the edges, a ghost of a smile.

“That is good,” she said warmly before her voice grew again, a mask of diplomacy sliding over her with practiced precision. “I humbly welcome everyone to the Shirogane family residence. Today we celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my granddaughter and Shirogane heir, Shirogane Hikaru, and the Kamo family’s heir, Kamo Masaru. It is a joyous occasion, and I thank you all for coming.”

While she spoke, servants appeared behind each guest like soundless ghosts, setting fresh, steaming trays of food accompanied by shots of sake before each guest before disappearing just as fast as they’d appeared.

“Let us toast. Then we will enjoy a bountiful meal.” She raised her glass and waited for everyone else to do the same.

You eyed the sake cup with weary desperation. You’d tasted it once when your father died (you were too young to drink it when your mother died, otherwise you’d have tasted it twice), and had swallowed the liquid bitterness despite the fact that you hated how it pooled in your stomach, warm and unyielding and a harsh reminder of what you lost. Now every time you thought of sake or alcohol in general, you thought of your parents’ death.

Sensing your hesitation from the way your hands shook when holding the cup, Sukuna took the drink from you before you could protest. A small smirk graced his features, as if he’d meant to do it all along. When your grandmother raised her glass up for a toast, he did the same for your glass and his, before finishing the alcohol in a single breath.

“Sukuna! You didn’t have to drink it for me!” you whispered furtively. “I don’t want you getting drunk in my stead.”

Two shots of sake were akin to a drop in the ocean to a creature like him who’d downed entire cellars of sake in one sitting before, but you didn’t know that, which made your concern all the more endearing to him. “Hmm,” he hummed, as the two of you clapped your hands together along with the others, muttering a quick itadakimasu, before eating. “Can’t have a drunk little wife on my hands, can I? I have to protect you.”

You hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol the entire night, but the way your face warmed made it feel as if you’d drunk a whole bottle by yourself. “That much alcohol isn’t enough to make me drunk…”

“Not enough to make you drunk,” he agreed, picking at the meat in front of him while wishing he could eat your cooking instead. Or even better, you.

He didn’t even need to eat, did it mostly to indulge you and because he liked your cooking, but he’d always take you over any mortal food. The thought of you squirming above him, slick cunt dripping juice into his mouth almost made him want to drag you from your seat, toss you over his shoulder, and find a closet to feast on you.

But he didn’t.

Sukuna was learning to be tamer around you.

“But look,” he murmured, bringing his thumb to your face to wipe a grain of rice stuck to the corner of your lip. “It would probably be enough alcohol to make your pretty face pink like it is right now. And I don’t want anyone else to see you like this.”

You nearly dropped your chopsticks but held on to them for fear of ridicule from your family. “O-Oh…um, Sukuna. That–that’s—” He’d said flirtier, dirtier, things to you before, but they were all in private. Now you were in public, in front of your family, and you didn’t know how to act.

“Eat, my love.” Sukuna fished his chirimenjako from his tray, the action reminding you of how your father used to do that for you, and set it in your rice bowl. “I know you like these fish things. Eat mine.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, grateful to have something else to focus on. Concentrating intently on your tray, you ate your dinner, keeping yourself as composed as possible despite Hikaru’s cold glare that shot through Sukuna’s imposing body. The fact that this was your first time eating with your family in years was not lost on you. And especially not lost on Hikaru.

Time passed quickly, and soon everyone had begun to wander out of the dining room and into other spaces. Needing to use the restroom, you excused yourself after telling Sukuna where you were going. He grabbed your arm, asking if you needed him to come with you, but you told him with a smile that he couldn’t regardless of what you wanted because you were using the ladies' room. Sukuna pouted, but you promised that you’d be back as soon as you could, and it was only after a reluctant kiss that he finally let you go.

You finished your business quickly, wanting to get back to Sukuna as soon as you could and go home before you realized that you still hadn’t given your grandmother the gift that you’d brought her. Hoping that she’d be in her room, you hurried through the corridors, slipping past drunken guests, and made your way to the front of her room.

“Grandmother?” you whispered. “Are you there?”

You waited a few seconds for a response before you asked again. “Grandmother? Are you—”

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, nearly dropping the gift in your hand, before shoving it hastily into your sleeve and turning on your toes, dread coursing through your veins.

“Hikaru…I’m sorry–Nothing, I wasn’t doing anything. I’ll just leave. Thank you for your invite.” You quickly bowed once before leaving, and walked as fast as you could in your kimono, cursing the damn contraption for slowing you down — it was pretty, yes, but incredibly difficult to move, and move quickly in it.

A sigh of relief broke out from you when you made it to one of the gardens in the residence, but your celebration was cut short when you felt liquid metal, a stinging cold against your wrist, squeeze hard, forcing you to turn and face your attacker.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hikaru sneered, letting the silver liquid slither up your arms so that it coiled around your neck like a pretty, poisonous snake, ready to strike at any time.

“You think that just because you’re married to Ryomen-sama,” she sneered his name, “that means you’re suddenly better than you are. That you’re not trash. But don’t lie to yourself. You won’t be married to him forever. He could easily find someone much better than you, replace you, and leave you with nothing and no one would think otherwise.”

You were acutely aware of the fact that if Sukuna wanted to, he could abandon you at any moment, but at the same time, you held a wild, desperate hope that perhaps he liked you just enough — even if just the bare minimum — to let you stay with him. Even tolerance would be enough for you. All you could hope for.

“So don’t forget your place. Don’t forget who you are. Someone useless, someone unlovable. A member of the Shirogane family, even if you’re a failure. So remember that I control you!” she spat, wringing the mercury tighter against your skin as if to emphasize her claims. You were sure that there’d be bruising now, bruising that’d be hard to explain to Sukuna.

You wanted to scream at her. To take her by the shoulders and shake her until the cold hard truth – that no one had ever treated you like a member of the Shirogane family – was beaten into her. But you knew you couldn’t because saying those things would be akin to social suicide for Sukuna, so you tried for softer words while clawing feebly at the liquid death that encircled your neck.

“H-Hikaru…listen–I…people might hear us and the latter half of the celebration will start soon, so let’s talk about this later.”

But Hikaru would not be so easily coaxed into agreement. “Later? You want to talk about this later?!”

Her shrill voice rang so loudly that you winced and looked worriedly at your surroundings, hoping that no one heard, especially not Sukuna. “Later?! You want to talk about this later?”

You winced at her shrill voice and looked worriedly around you, hoping that no one had heard when a sudden sting of pain jolted your attention back to Hikaru. She’d used her mercury to whip you, hard, the impact of it was so strong and caught you so off guard that it knocked you back a few steps, making you lose your balance and trip into a stone bench. The rock dug into the back of your thighs, bruising hard, and you reached up to soothe the sting on your face only to draw back in half-panic and half-surprise at the wet warmth you felt on your fingertips.

You had grown comfortable with Sukuna’s gentle ways. Too comfortable.

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes, fat drops that threatened to spill forth and betray what little strength you had, but you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to focus on the pain and the blood. You wouldn’t let your tears betray how you really felt.

And then there was the matter of Sukuna. You didn’t want your husband to see you like this — for him to see you in such a pitiful state, somehow who couldn’t even protect yourself. Someone at the mercy of another, having to pitifully beg for even a scrap of Hikaru’s leniency. If he saw you now, he’d think you were disgusting and worthless, and he’d realize that you simply weren’t worth it.

You knew it, had expected it to happen since he was bound to find out about your past, but you were hoping you’d have a little more time to prepare him. A little more time to prepare yourself. Some nice memories to tide over the ache you’d feel when you would eventually be discarded.

But there was never enough time. If you learned anything in life, it was that time was servant to none and master to all. It didn’t care that your mother was young, in her primes, or that you were too young to lose your father. Time took them anyway. So what else were you to do besides submit?

Crumpled and defeated, not even caring that your pretty new kimono was dirtied and ripped in multiple places, you kneeled. You kneeled before this angry goddess, taking in every insult hurled at you while your body slowly caved in from the pain your liquid metal jailer wrought on you.

“Know your place, whore,” Hikaru seethed. She grabbed a fistful of your hair, hair that was just starting to grow healthily, and yanked it sharply to force you to look at her. You bit your tongue hard to stop the cry of pain that’d come out, tasting bitter, metallic blood. “You’re just a slave—”

“My wife.”

A two-worded revelation from your savage god. Pure relief flooded through you, barely enough to smother the intense shame and disgust you felt from yourself.

Sukuna was here, but you couldn’t be sure if it was a good thing or not.

Hikaru spun on her heels to face the intruder, anger etched into every fiber of her being, but when she saw who it was, her demeanor changed instantaneously, molding her expression and posture into picturesque gentility.

“Ryomen—”

But Sukuna ignored her and made a beeline for you, kneeling on the hard floor before reaching his hand out for you to take. You slipped your shaking hands into his while keeping your gaze lowered, not daring to see what expression he had on his face right now. Surely he would be irate and berate you for ruining an expensive kimono or criticize your lack of decorum and sneer at your weakness.

Sukuna, however, addressed your cousin first. “What were you doing to my wife?” His voice sounded unaffected, but his calmness belied an undercurrent of violence just barely contained. He didn’t want to scare you off.

“What do you mean?” Hikaru asked dumbly, batting her eyelashes at him. “As the future head of the Shirogane family, it is my duty to discipline members of the family when they’re misbehaving.”

You could feel his grip tighten imperceptibly on your waist.

“Your family?” he scoffed. “She is my wife and thus bears the surname Ryomen, making her no longer a part of the Shirogane family. Instead, she is now under my protection and care and if anyone is to discipline her, to teach her the error of her ways, it will be me, and not some outsider.”

Hikaru’s expression darkened, as if she couldn’t believe that there would be someone so bold as to question her authority not once, but twice. Her original plan of getting on Sukuna’s good side changed because he’d insulted her pride and status. She would not let his comment go. “You have no idea what you’re talking about and who you’re talking to.”

Sukuna arched a fine eyebrow. “Oh do I?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “Last time we met, you only knew me as her cousin,” she spat the word out as if it was poison. "But what you don’t know is that I am the heir of the prized mercury cursed technique of the Shirogane family and the future head of the family.”

Sukuna was beginning to see everything very clearly now — what and how you suffered in the past. It didn’t matter that your grandmother was the head of the family and kind to you if she turned a blind eye to Hikaru’s cruel behavior towards you merely because she had inherited the Shirogane family’s dying cursed technique. And if the family head showed such ignorance, then clearly the rest of the clan, whether they scorned you because they saw your grandmother as a role model, or because they themselves didn’t want to get shunned for siding with you, would not have helped the situation.

You must’ve been so lonely.

And if your loneliness was anything like his, it was not just simply loneliness, but a demon that consumed you.

The first few hundred years after he became a cursed spirit, he suffered daily from this loneliness, seeking a feeling, something exhilarating, overwhelming, powerful enough to get rid of the loneliness that ate at him from the inside out. It threatened to consume him whole, leave nothing behind, and every day he fought against it. He murdered, tortured, and plundered his way through his new life before he finally decided that he was tired of it all. That he wanted to settle down in one place.

Life was peaceful at the shrine, a calm respite from the noise of the world, and he enjoyed his few servants. His days passed without any trouble except for when he received a sacrificial bride (they were often distraught and it’d take them many weeks or months to calm down). But loneliness chipped away at him, like water against stone, and each passing year further solidified his belief that he’d never find an end to his loneliness.

Until you came along.

Sukuna didn’t care that the Shiroganes were powerful cursed technique users – there had been no one in centuries who even came close to rivaling his power, so he was not going to simply sit by and watch as some impudent spoiled human brat hurt you.

“And what of it?” Sukuna replied coolly. “What of the Shirogane family?”

Hikaru’s face contorted in anger, beautiful features turning ugly. “Why you—”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” he thundered, eyes glowing red. “To go against her is to go against me. And to go against me is to go against god.”

Not a single sound could be heard from Hikaru despite the fact that Sukuna had interrupted her.

“It would appear to me, weak human, that your family has not educated you about your history nor the identity of their superior. For I am their god, whether they acknowledge it or not, which means that not only am I owed respect from your family but that my wife is also owed the same respect. I do not care if you are more powerful,” he said the words mockingly, “than my wife, because I can assure you, you are most certainly not better than her, and are in fact worth nothing compared to her. In my eyes, she is worth much, much more, than your paltry cursed technique.”

Stunned silent, Hikaru looked at Sukuna, silver eyes glinting with pain. Yet indignation reigned and she couldn’t help challenging him. “If you think the Shirogane family’s cursed technique is so weak, then you won’t turn me down in a friendly match, will you?”

“Very well.”

A friendly match?

No, you couldn’t let the two of them do that. You’d seen the destruction that Hikaru had wreaked before and had watched with silent horror servants writhing in agony through half-opened windows and doors left ajar. Cruel handiwork on shattered masterpieces you had to patch up every time she was finished with them. And sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of her sparring with her instructor (the same one you had many years ago), and be half-terrified, half-awed by the sheer power she had. Power you should’ve had but didn’t.

Sukuna was formidable, no doubt, but you couldn’t risk him getting hurt on your behalf.

“No!” The two of them spun to look at you, and you fought the urge to shirk at icy silver eyes that had traumatized you and molten red ones that you’d grown to love so much.

“I-Please don’t fight. I don’t want you…two to get hurt…” At first, you thought only of your husband, until you realized that Hikaru getting hurt would surely spell doom for Sukuna. The Shirogane family would want someone to answer for her injuries and heavens forbid her death, if it happened, and you would be the perfect scapegoat for it. They’d spin a tale of how you, the eldest cousin, was jealous of Hikaru and had devised a plan for Sukuna to get rid of her for you so you could seize her position.

Never mind that you wanted and cared nothing for that, but your family would use you as a scapegoat and Sukuna would get caught in the crossfire simply by association with you. But Sukuna only looked at you with a devastating smirk, one that made you hope and despair at the same time. He was going to fight her, regardless of what you said. It made sense, you thought wanely. Why would he ever listen to someone as weak and useless as yourself?

“I will be but a moment, love,” he said nonchalantly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before setting you gently on the bench.

Hikaru manipulated several streams of mercury into the air, ready to attack Sukuna as soon as he turned around, and when you saw it, your legs were moving before you realized it, running to do something, anything, to shield him from the mercury – you had a firsthand experience of how acutely they hurt – but then you were in his warm embrace, face pressed against his chest and breathing in his scent when you heard someone howl in pain.

When you finally dared to open your eyes, you found Hikaru crumpled on the ground in pain, hurt in the same places you were while Sukuna hadn’t taken a single step from where he was.

“R-Ryomen-sama! How dare you do this to me!” Hikaru stood shakily, trying to come to terms that someone had just hurt her and summoned more mercury, ready to shoot those streams at Sukuna when—

“Enough.” Your grandmother’s voice held no room for argument, and Hikaru obeyed, immediately getting rid of her mercury.

Sukuna looked at Hikaru with such heavy distaste that you could almost feel the sting yourself.

“I didn’t realize that the Shirogane family had fallen so low,” he remarked with disdain, “become so uneducated, and so uncouth so as to not recognize their god, the King of Curses. Do something about it. I don’t want my wife’s family to be known as weak, ignorant people, nor do I want to be disappointed again by them.” Sukuna effortlessly lifted you from where you sat before you could mutter a protest. “We’ll be leaving now, Shirogane-sama.”

You craned your neck up to look at your husband before turning to your grandmother who was helping Hikaru up. “We’re leaving?” you murmured nervously. “Just like that?”

“Of course.” He arched an eyebrow at you, confused, as if you were the crazy one. “There’s no need for us to be here anymore, and I want to tend to your wounds as soon as possible, so I’ll teleport us back,” he said simply.

“O-Okay…”

You held on to him tightly, perhaps tighter than needed, and a few moments later you were back at the shrine. The calm, familiar environment enveloped you, and you sighed deeply, glad you had some place to return and find solace because the Shirogane residence was certainly anything but peaceful.

As Sukuna carried you to your rooms, asking Momoka for a first aid kit on the way there, you wondered how you were going to approach him tomorrow morning. It was a given that he’d surely have questions for you — remarks, at the very least — about what happened, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to open up to him yet.

But perhaps he wouldn’t even care to listen to you. He could just be acting courteous to you, bidding his time before he divorced you and ran you out of the shrine. It sickened you, bile rising unbidden, at the thought of him abandoning you, and you vehemently fought to keep it down while clinging harder to Sukuna and burying your nose into the crook of your neck, focusing on his calming scent.

If only this moment would last forever. If only you could live in this illusion for the rest of your life. If only he would love you unconditionally; want nothing in return.

Wonderful yet impossible.

Nishijin-ori (西陣織, lit. 'Nishijin fabric'): is a traditional textile produced in the Nishijin (西陣) district of Kamigyō-ku in Kyoto, Japan. Originating in Heian-kyōto over 1,200 years ago, the weaving is known for its highly-decorative and finely-woven designs, created through the use of tedious and specialized production processes. It is well-regarded for the high quality and craftsmanship of the resulting fabrics, commonly used for high-quality obi and kimono. Taken from Wikipedia.

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