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ghostimoth · 1 day ago

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Ooooooh I am LOVING this concept!!! Homie about to start adopting out their furniture to good homes at this rate LOL

HOUSE FIEND | Date Everything gn!Reader

Summary: You are the friend of the Homeowner, they need you to house sit for a month. During the time weird things happen that you hope to ignore.

Warning: Fluff, banter. I named the homeowner ‘Homie’ cause I can’t keep calling them homeowner, Homie befriended everyone, no love plot.

PART TWO | MASTERLIST | READ ME

What you thought of Homie didn’t really matter, you were friends with them and Sam. Though, you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t think they were slightly crazy—since the group chat consisted of them ranting about their…household objects…and their relationship status with each of ‘em.

You’d also be a liar if you said you weren’t at least a little bit curious about ‘Dateviators’ especially now because they asked you to house-sit for them. You stared at the message blankly, not reading the entire paragraph of why they needed to be away from the house for a long period of time—something about making sure they aren’t on their trail about having the glasses…whatever that meant.

You type back “yap alert” then adding “sure”

Then going back to mundane work life, when your manager snapped at you for slacking. Hmm, maybe a month house sitting and working at home would be better.

You wouldn’t say you’re a hermit like Homie, but sitting somewhere that isn’t a cramped cubicle would be a nice new environment. And keep you from the itching that thought in the back of your head to resign.

After a few weeks of preparation and informing your bosses that you’ll be working from home for the time being, you grab your packed backpack and walk up to their home. You’re about to knock on the door with your knuckles but you notice the…rather small door knocker and gently use that instead.

Dorian was apprehensive at first seeing you, readying himself for an obnoxious pound at the door that would escalate to more knocking when Homie didn’t come fast enough, but no. You stopped yourself and used the actual door knocker and waited patiently.

He liked you already, platonically, of course.

Homie opened the door and not so gracefully dragged you inside. They looked paranoid looking you up and down with aviators as if you’re a spy—shaking their head they started explaining. Something about how their parents are finally talking with them again, and blah blah blah.

“I can’t take Sky- Er…the glasses with me cause they’d probably take her back, and these are like my prized possession…” Rightfully ignoring the feminine pronouns for the glasses, cause what? You tease them a bit.

“Good to know your bank will repossess…glasses instead of like? Your car or something to inconvenience you more” From behind you, the curtains hung up on a bronze rod ruffle. Homie glares at it.

“Okay, it seems to me that you need to spend some time out of this house…and…interact with humans” The stairs creak along with the walls—something from the living room shutters.

You don’t notice Homie muttering under their breath “they didn’t mean it like that…”

“Your house makes a lot of noise, huh?” You ask, they guide you around each room, they grab their luggage rushing out the door—waving at things…then turning to me as they’re stepping outside. The door groans as if displeased, causing Homie to sigh.

You ignore it, better for your sanity to place logical reason to it. They grab your hands firmly, then take off the glasses and place them in your palm—like it’s a sacred symbol.

“Take care of the house, I hope you get alo—ugh just be nice, don’t break things…or insult things.” They say with a wave of their hand trying to articulate their wishes best for you.

“Also, feel free to use the glasses…I think they—well maybe not all of them but new faces are nice, I think” They pause pondering the thought comedically. Their statements and backtracking is throwing you through a loop.

“Okay, I don’t have time to explain the glasses, but if you try them I’m sure Skylar is willing to help you—‘kay byyye!!” They skip away nearly tripping on the walkway payment to their car. You laugh which was more like a huff.

You placed a hand on the back of the door to close it but it quickly shuts on its own, and a click locks. You stand there processing the weirdness of that but to convince yourself you mutter.

“Must’ve been the wind…” Look down at the top lock that you knew you didn’t touch.

“…intelligent wind…” You felt a breeze caress your check—not wanting to stay and stare in one place that would likely make you lose it and probably talk to—you don’t know maybe the personification of dread, just spitballing. You take your bag and place it next to the sofa and the glasses on the coffee table. Deciding that you’ll be sleeping there after you plopped down and melted into the cushioning.

You rather not sleep in Homie’s bed after giving great detail about how the Dateviators worked and how most of their home appliances are frisky. They never said that they’ve slept with any of them but you couldn’t get the teasing comments you’d make with Sam about it.

Thus, sleeping on the sofa no matter how many kinks you get in your neck or sore spots you get. Now that you think of it. How many of your friend’s household necessities are sentient? Also, how does that work?

You look at the glasses on the table that felt like they were inching closer to you. If—hypothetically—you were to put them on in your home would it be the same set of people or different? What are the laws of their physics? Is the object their body—or does the glasses make them transform into a mirror person? Or maybe it just takes their consciousness and personifies it instead of the inanimate object—

You groan and log your head back against the couch, bringing a hand up to rub between your eyes.

First day you and you were already thinking of the impossible, becoming your friend.

You need to do something to keep your mind off it.

Maybe writing out some emails will help.

You pretend to not care about how you felt you were being watch but in a weirdly comforting—almost robotic way. Like a person looking out for someone they don’t really know but need to be friendly with.

Weird things have started happening that you refuse to understand or accept in anything other form than a vague logical explanation.

You were working inside the office, they allowed you to use their computer you ignored when they said “they’re friendly”

It ran faster than the company issued one in your cubicle, you were nearly done with a very long chain email to your co-workers when out of the corner of your eye something moved. You didn’t even glance at first thinking it was from the light coming from the windows behind you.

It happened again. You squint at the monitor forcing yourself to stay focused, then again, then—drop.

Something fell, hit the side of the desk making a wobbled thud and onto the rug. You snapped your head to the side, realizing that the red die was missing.

You get up and peer over, seeing it laying on the ground. Rolled onto a 20. You roll your eyes and snicker. Picking it up and placing it back where it was—sitting back in the chair to start typing where you left off only to notice that…it's completely finished.

You scroll through the email—your email and are completely bewildered by the perfect spelling and even creative suggestions for the upcoming events at the office. You slack your head into your palm, mouth agape as you read through it.

Homie did say…the computer was…friendly.

You take a few minutes to think about if you should scrap it or let it be and send it. Sighing with a reluctant hmm.

Mac takes it as a thank you.

You needed a break and a high dose of caffeine…or maybe something from that mini bar you’ve been eyeing—why did Homie even have a mini bar?

Through the walkway and into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. There were some cute decorative cups by it that you placed on the center of it. Tapping a few buttons and crossing your fingers that you didn’t break it. The air fills with the rich scent of coffee.

As you wait you glance at the cute cat clock on the wall thinking about what you’ll have for dinner soon. As the coffee continues you look around their cabinets and fridge noticing how it’s only junk/fast food minus the few rarities.

The coffee dings. Stopping your search for nutritional value foods. When you took the cup you stopped. The coffee was decorated with a chocolate wafer, a dollop of vanilla cream that spread out into a beautiful design similar to a leaf, and some speckles of caramel.

This was not your typical desperate espresso that the break room had…no…this was art—something you could shed a tear at.

It made you feel guilty taking a sip and ruining the artwork. It was packed with sugar but on everything that you owned—it was the best goddamn drink you’ve ever had. It literally made you moan a “oh shit—“

You slumped your shoulders letting the warm drink fill you, trying to ignore the positive energy that was radiating from the machine. Kopi was happy you enjoyed it. You were too preoccupied with the coffee you nearly trip on your way back to the office.

You look down. Your foot was on the arm of a clothes hanger. Stepping back you look up, eyes wide in confusion. There were multiple hangers hooked onto a vent, cold air flushing out.

You do something you’re not entirely why you considered it: You pick up the hang you accidentally stepped on, dusting it off annnddd…hooking it with the rest of them.

You stare at the hangers feeling stupid.

You question how the hangers got there but that’ll give you a headache. The only thing your dumb human brain comes up with is that there could be a ghost.

And honestly you’d take the ghost over sentient objects.

So, you’ll suck it up and deal with dancing around the fact your friend is in kahoots with their memorabilia and or ghost.

You had finished making dinner with the minimal ingredients that were in the kitchen and ate in peaceful silence before cleaning up.

You are hand washing them because the dishwasher gave you the creeps after you stared at it for a long period of time. You’re at the sink rinsing the plate, on with healed cracks and seams on it like it’s been meticulously fixed with delicate hands.

You wonder if Homie did this.

You smile at the thought. Daisuke smiles at you, appreciating your gentle touch to his dishes.

As you dry the plate and silverware finishing up cleaning. You turn, and there on the center of the table were the glasses…didn’t you put them on the coffee table?

Your brain couldn’t comprehend it—so much so you again choose to ignore it. Slowly walking away while maintaining eye contact with the glasses.

This is going to be a long month.

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ghostimoth · 3 months ago

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━ ❝ OH, IT'S MINIKUNA ! ❞

✮₊‧⁺...content: heian era!sukuna x wife!reader, fluff, mentions of childbirth, sukuna is an overly proud father, sukuna is whipped for his wife

✮₊‧⁺...lunar's note: based of this little blurbie and this one too !! needed some fluff with kuna bc he would love having a baby girl idc what anyone says !!! also i did my best describing the birthing process in a time accurate period but it's definitely a bit inaccurate because...i have never had a baby LOL

no one has ever seen sukuna ryomen, king of curses, wince before.

not until today, at the wrath of his pregnant wife who somehow got a hold of his fingers instead of his hand.

one of the nurses did warn him to not give you his finger and to ensure you always hold his hand. but by the gods, he swears you almost ripped his finger off.

it's cute to him, however, when you attempt to curse him out.

'gods, sukuna, i despise your entire being!'

'i know, my wife.'

'i should've never let you get me pregnant, you animal!'

'you begged for it, my wife.'

'i am never letting you bed me again, use your hand for the rest of your existence!'

'you can't keep your hands off me, my wife, no need to lie.'

but the sigh of relief, the way you instantly look down and coo once the sound of wailing filled the air...it makes him melt just a little bit.

he can't deny, seeing you in pain made him heated. it took everything in him not to kill every midwife, nurse, and lady-in-waiting in your birth room for not being able to make this process completely painless.

except chiyo. he would have to reward your personal physician for preparing you so well for this...

what did the old hag like again? wines, meats, gifts for her grandchildren back at home?

hm, yes, that would be great for her. of course, he'll say it was from you. the king of curses shows gratitude for no one.

he's pulled out of his thoughts at the hushed whispers once the other women exam the baby before following your unspoken request to hold your child.

"d-do you think lord sukuna will harm our lady for this...?"

"i hope not, surely he can make an exception, t-they both are still young and can always try for more!"

"but he's the king of curses, t-there no way he won't have a reaction!"

before he can demand what they find so important to discuss in front of you, chiyo hushes the girls with a wave of her hand, ushering the girls to help wipe off your sweat, tears, and clean off the baby—gentle like it's the finest glass, she instructs—before turning to sukuna with a knowing smile.

"well, your greatness...congratulations on having a healthy and gorgeous little girl," she hums, wiping her hands with a clean cloth before going to rinse her hands to help stitch any rips and clean you up.

the room falls silent aside from your soft little coos and the wails of your daughter as you brush the wet, fluffy hair on her little head.

all the women in the room continue to work, but it's clear they are silently waiting for his outburst.

everyone knows that a proper heir to any throne is a boy...but now, sukuna's first born child is a girl.

but rather angry, yelling, and threats to your and your child's life, the room is filled with Suku's booming laughter, which practically shakes the entire room.

instead of an enraged expression, pure delight, and excitement are painted on his face as he sits next to you on the soft cushiony bedding on the floor, his hand caressing the rounded cheek of your newborn.

"so, you've given me a girl," he hums in delight, all four of his eyes narrowing. "this will be the one who takes over my throne once i decide to step down?"

this thing, this tiny, itty bitty baby...came from you both? it's almost laughable how small this baby is compared to his hand, that something so little could be related to him.

she's...nothing short of perfect. "absolutely divine...she will not just be beautiful like her mother, but as powerful as both of us."

he's so proud of you and your child. he would shower your daughter with riches, love, and anything she could ever want and ask for.

but, he couldn't lie.

she's a damned fat baby, big head and all.

"sukuna, watch your mouth!"

he can't help but laugh, not realizing his thoughts came out of his mouth. "what, it's a good thing! means she's healthy," he boasts with a grin, leaning down closer to see her better.

"she looks strong already. as soon as she is able, i will personally teach her how to be a truly malevolent little princess, how to properly slit the necks of her enemies, how to—!”

oh, he is so excited, it's adorable.

“sukuna, shush, i just gave birth to a child with a massive head like yours, give me a moment," you say with a light laugh, your smile still reaching your clearly tired eyes.

“…apologies, my wife.”

chiyo can't help but laugh with you she finishes applying the healing ointment on your lower body, using a bit of her cursed energy to speed up the healing process to help you skip any serious pain.

after all, nothing but the best physician for you in sukuna's palace.

"always such an excitable boy, my lord, ever since you were a young man," she hums, helping one of the midwives properly wrap your baby in the soft, clean cloth.

"be gentle with her," you instruct him, gently moving your arms toward him so he could take the little bundle. he's...nervous, but he hides it well.

you place your daughter in his arms and he looks down at her, suddenly conscious of how loud he's breathing. she's got his hair, still a bit wet but soft and fluffy. it's pink, just like his.

a pleased rumble vibrates his chest, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

but then...her eyes open.

both sets.

he almost didn't notice it at first, they're just so small, but they're there. the same color as yours, pretty and big, filled with so much life.

his eyes burn, vision getting blurry. no words come to his head, he can't think of anything to say. he's so caught up in his thought he doesn't even notice chiyo ushering the other girls in the room out and shutting the door before quietly tending to you with water or food.

she knows that look, you do as well. she's been around longer than uraume to know her master, knowing the king of curses since his young years as the unwanted child of the village, abandoned by his mother for his 'horrid' appearance.

she was lucky to have found him before the villagers got to him, torches, axes, pitchforks and daggers in hand to take care of the child who they believed to have brought misfortune to their home.

getting him to safety was one of the best decisions she'd ever made, king of curses or not. no child deserved to be abandoned like that. and now, he's seeing himself in that tiny little being in his arms right now...chiyo can only imagine what he's feeling.

so, out of respect, she keeps her gaze averted, pretending she does not see the misty gaze he gives your daughter. this is a moment for you and him, and she does her best to make all her movements as quiet as possible.

all sukuna can think about in this moment is how he used to be just as tiny as this. he was just as vulnerable in his mothers arms. he couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't fend for himself.

yet, his parents looked down at him just like this and decided he was an abomination and didn't give him a chance.

but now?

sukuna knows he would never, ever let anything happen to this little bundle in his arms. he would rather destroy the entire planet before letting anything happen to his baby girl. no one would make his little one suffer and live to see another day.

he flinches just a little, feeling your soft hand rubbing his bicep. "it's okay, my love," you softly coo at him, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye before it had a chance to drip down his cheek. "she's going to grow up feeling loved and cherished because she's got a great father."

"hmm..."

a smile crosses his features as he looks back down, looking at the squirming baby so makes a little noise before calming down when he strokes her little, chubby cheek again to keep her from crying again.

"and she's got a great mother. she'll be the most wonderful princess in all of history," he says with a toothy grin, chest rumbling with a laugh.

"aww, my love, that's so sweet..."

"seriously, though, how in hells did you squeeze this thing out of ya? thing's got the head of a watermelon."

"sukuna, give me back my baby, and chiyo? get this man some food to stuff in his mouth before he says something to warrent the rage of a new mother."