#lower moon six

[character-reference-cafe]

(Former) Lowermoon 6 Kyogai (Faces)

[h-didanart]

Guys I turned them into fish!

happy mermay! Here’s ny contribution: more of my AU’s Bloodmoons

and now the close ups :3

Will probably doodle them with these designs more, I thought way too much about them for them to only be a one time thing

[mumblelard]

thank you for your service, fiskars eight inch non-stick titanium softgrip scissors

you lived, ready-to-hand, in the hone slot of my knife block and together, for the last six years and seventy five days, we have opened bags and boxes, snipped ties and tape, shaped paper and cloth. sometimes though, i asked more of you, we trimmed the woody stems of herbs, we pruned the branches of plants, and as your final task, we cut through the rib cage of a spatchcocking spring chicken. i tried to repair your broken handle, but it was not to be. for now your slot sits empty. you will be missed

[dduane]

Coming June 3rd/4th: the Parade of Planets

...It could be considered a Pride Parade, surely? Look, there's even kind of a rainbow! :)

On June 3, Jupiter and Uranus have joined the current crowd, with all six planets forming a straight line through the pre-dawn sky that stretches from Jupiter on the eastern end (closest to the horizon) up through Mercury, Uranus, Mars, and Neptune, to Saturn on the western end, highest in the sky before sunrise. Some 20 minutes before sunrise, all six planets should be visible, though note that Uranus (magnitude 5.9) and Neptune (magnitude 7.8) will be too faint for naked-eye observing and, although they’re present in the lineup, will need binoculars or a telescope to spot. But Jupiter (magnitude –2), Mercury (magnitude –1), Mars (magnitude 1), and Saturn (magnitude 1) will all stand out clearly to the naked eye in a line spanning some 73° on the sky. What’s more, a delicate waning crescent Moon is crashing the party as well, standing just to the lower left of Mars. Note, however, that our Moon is not perfectly in line — that’s because Luna’s orbit is tilted some 5° with respect to the ecliptic.

Anyway, this will be worth seeing. (And there's kind of a do-over on June 30th.) More details here:

[moonstruckme]

hey lovely! I was wondering if I could request a remus or poly! marauders where the boys (or just remus) are keeping his werewolf thing a secret from whimsical!reader bc remus is scared she’ll be scared of him, but she secretly already knows. I feel like she’d just KNOW(you know? lol) and one day hints that she does to Remus saying that it’s going to be a full moon soon as like a warning or something and he and the boys kinda look at her like….what does she mean by that? lol idk I hope that makes sense.

Thanks for requesting sweetheart <3

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 1k words

They’re all always on edge as the full moon grows closer, but James thinks Sirius might be faring the worst. Two days out, he won’t let Remus so much as make his own tea, and when you’re still not home a couple of hours after you’re supposed to be, James has to talk him down from calling the police. 

Now, Remus is comforting him, though neither of them will admit it, the ailing boy’s arms banded securely around Sirius’ midsection where they lie on the couch. Every now and again, Sirius turns his head to kiss Remus’ chin as if to make up for it. James watches them both from the kitchen, wondering if he could get away with slipping some of the anti-anxiety tea you got Remus into Sirius’ brew. 

When they hear your key in the front door, he thinks he hears a relieved sigh go up from the couch. 

“Hi, angel.” James arrests you at the door, beckoning you into the kitchen. “Been missing you.” 

“Hey Jamie.” You set a couple of bags on the counter, letting him pull you in by the waist for a kiss. “Whatcha making?” 

“Lentil soup,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close. “Be extra nice to Sirius,” he whispers near your ear. “He’s been worrying himself crazy about you.” 

You pull back to look at him, lips parting bemusedly, but James just pecks you on the side of your head. “Go,” he urges. 

You do as he says, padding over to the couch. “Hi, Siri,” you say, kneeling by the couch. “How’s your—day been?” Your words become muffled halfway through when Sirius wraps his arms around you, pressing your face to his shoulder despite the awkward angle. 

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, worry inlaid with fondness. Remus’ hand migrates to the dip of his waist, pacifying. “You didn’t leave a note or anything.” 

“Sorry,” you say, slipping free of his grip so you can see him. Your fingers find a piece of his hair, running the satiny tress through your fingers distractedly. “I didn’t expect to be so long, but I couldn’t find Remus’ chocolate anywhere. I think it must be the holiday.” 

Sirius pauses. 

“You were gone all that time getting the chocolate Rem likes?” James asks. He peers inside the bag you’ve left on the counter, and sure enough—bags and bags of it, enough to last for months. 

“Mhm, I had to go to six stores. I saw you were getting low,” you say, now to Remus, “and I thought you might be wanting it.” 

James lowers the heat on his soup, setting a lid on the pot so he can join you all in the living room. Remus’ expression is wavering somewhere between guilty and lovestruck. Sirius looks plainly besotted.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Remus says, reaching over Sirius to stroke at your cheek. “Thanks, dove.” 

You lean into his touch, cheeks dimpling. “It’s no problem,” you promise. Sirius has a look on his face like he wants to eat you. James feels similarly. “Oh,” you say abruptly, “I set up my diffuser in the bedroom earlier, but since it looks like you’re going to be out here for a while, would you mind if I brought it out?”

Remus’ eyebrows twitch towards each other. “Course not. But what did you have it in my room for?” 

“I put some rosemary oil in it.” You get up, aiming for the bedroom. “I thought it might be good for your headaches.” 

When you return, Sirius apparently decides he can’t contain himself any longer. He sits up on the couch, opening his arms for a proper hug. You set up the diffuser hastily and go to them, letting him squeeze the life out of you without complaint. Your eyes slip closed. 

“Sorry I scared you,” you say softly. 

“You’re forgiven.” Sirius stamps a kiss on the side of your head, rubbing your back roughly. “You’re pretty hard to stay mad at, you know that?”

“That’s the goal,” you reply breezily. James laughs. 

“How’d you know I had a headache today?” Remus asks, watching you and Sirius amusedly. 

You hum into Sirius’ shoulder, not opening your eyes. “Well, it’s only two days until the full moon.” 

Remus goes shock still. So does Sirius, cutting a look James’ way over your shoulder. What the hell is that supposed to mean? 

James shakes his head, shrugging. He hasn’t let anything slip, though he does think it’d be easier if you knew. He and Sirius have tried to coax Remus into telling you a few times now, but the other boy is obstinate. He’s been spurned too much in his life to willingly open himself up to the possibility of it, even if they all know you could never be afraid of him. He’s just not ready yet. 

Still, James thinks sitting here in petrified silence is as likely to give him away as anything else. 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” James asks you. 

“Mm, nothing,” you hum blissfully, seemingly too content in Sirius’ hold to think about much else. He thinks he can hear Remus’ breath shake a bit on the way out. 

“Right,” James says. “Would you mind helping me in the kitchen for a bit? I could use someone chopping while I stir, or the other way around.” 

“Sure.” You open your eyes, gently easing yourself from Sirius’ clutches. The raven-haired boy eyes you curiously as you go, quirking an eyebrow at James like What do you think she’s on about? James can only shrug again, putting a hand on the small of your back while he follows you into the kitchen. 

As he goes by, he looks again in the bags you’ve brought home. 

“Angel, why did you buy so many bandages?” 

You shrug, taking up a paring knife and beginning to chop celery with careful, even strokes. “We were running out of those, too. Usually you and Siri are more on top of this stuff, but I figured it’s time I started pitching in. I know it’s a difficult time of the month.” 

There’s a dull slapping sound from the couch, and James looks over to see Sirius with one hand covering his mouth, the other stroking soothingly at Remus’ hair. 

“Right.” James swallows. He glances back at you, but you’re just chopping celery, placid as can be. “Thanks for, uh, taking up the mantle.” 

You toss him an easy smile. “Anytime.”

[peachesofteal]

Black Sun

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader 5.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Dark and twisty. Explicit sex, dubious consent, forced breeding/pregnancy kink, praise kink, size difference, creampie. Simon is insane about you. Panty sniffing/stealing. Obsessive behavior. Possessive Simon Riley. Alcohol. Reader is prescribed/taking muscle relaxers. Toxic but I think it's sweet. Angst, comfort, emotional hurt/comfort. Tags are for your health, not mine. Simon never wanted a divorce.

Simon does not consider himself a common criminal.

A war criminal, perhaps. The things he’s done for the 141 would put him behind bar in over fifty countries, and on death row in at least eight. The things he’s seen alone make him eligible for life in a padded room, and that’s if you don’t count the things that have happened to him.

But he’s never stooped to petty crime like this before. Before this mess. Before you asked for a divorce, insisted he move out, demanded time apart.

There’s a first time for everything, he thinks. First time for a lot of things, actually. The first time he actively tried to avoid the divorce paperwork, first time he let his obsession take him this far, first time he indulged in his darkest fantasies, things he wouldn’t even dare whisper about to Price-

The door welcomes him like it always does, squeak gone from the hinges, greased out by his hands in the middle of the night last week, swinging wide so he can silently step across the threshold… into his house. Into yours.

Riley whines in greeting, lowering himself into a play bow, and Simon kneels to pet him, rubbing his between the ears and under the chin just how he likes, before instructing him back to his bed, to keep watch. He’d maul another man who tried to step foot in here, per his training, but his dad- his dad is okay. His dad is allowed.

It’s not that he’s too far gone to recognize the complete dismantlement of your boundaries, it’s that he doesn’t care. The chilling fear of losing you has seeped deep into his bones, fostering the growth of a plan that he knows is not rational, or right.

He knows what he is doing is wrong, but he cannot stop himself.

You are his. His wife. His life, his person, his reason for it all. You’re the sun and the moon and the stars and everything that makes this miserable fucking existence worth living.

He’ll do anything to keep you.

Anything.

So, it doesn’t feel wrong when he stands in the bedroom at the foot of his bed, watching you sleep, twisted up in the blankets, favoring your one side like your shoulder must have been bothering you before you fell asleep. It concerns him, worries him, this lack of improvement regarding your pain, and he wonders if maybe you should be in physical therapy.

It doesn’t feel wrong, when he traces the curve of your ass, perked up in the sheets, as if you’re waiting for him to strip your ratty little sleep shorts down to your knees and shove his cock to your cervix. He wonders if you’d even wake up if he rubbed his nose across the seam of your cunt. You’ve always been a heavy sleeper, through thunder or commotion, you’d stay sweet with your lashes flush against your cheeks, mouth slightly open in a soft snore.

He leans over you in bed, stroking the back of your head with his hand before pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple, something he knows won’t stir you, not with you how deep you’re dreaming, and certainly not with the muscle relaxer in your system.

He is a stealth operator, after all. It’s not like he hasn’t been watching, observing your new routines, the changes to your schedules and habits that have appeared over these last few months. The muscle relaxers, for example, that were prescribed for the strain in your neck and shoulder, that you’ve been taking once an evening for a week and a half, around six thirty. They’re extended release, usually able to keep you mostly pain free through the night, and he’s grateful to your doctor for insisting upon them. For more reasons than one.

He gives you another light kiss before pulling the sheet up around your shoulders, tucking you in how you like. You get cold in the middle of the night, icicle toes usually wandering across the mattress to seek the space between his thighs for warmth, shocking him into a gasp that would elicit a string of sleepy giggles from your mouth. He makes sure you’re comfortable, before slinking onto the second part of his routine.

The bathroom.

Every night, he holds his breath as the medicine cabinet pops open. He hates the anticipation, the fear of what he could discover, dreads the idea of having to start the clock over or worse, swap them for placebo. You never disappoint him though, and he catalogues the perfectly color-coded rows of birth control pills that haven’t been touched in over a month, not since his last op with wicked desire hearting his belly. What a good girl you are.

Before, he would have told you the opposite. He did, tell you the opposite. He told you were good, so good, for taking your pills, for making sure that you were safe for him, that there wouldn’t be any accidents. Guilt would eat at him each time the two of you had the argument, the ‘discussion’, about having a baby, and you would cry with misery staining your cheeks.

 “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” He tried to tell you, dozens of times, that he didn’t think he’d be good at it, that he wouldn’t like being gone so much, leaving you at home all the time with a baby.

“I love you, Simon. I want to have a baby, with you. My husband. Is that so wrong?” You would cry, and he could feel the weight of his choice breaking you apart, the pressure cracking beneath his skull.

“You… you don’t understand. I- I can’t.” 

It’s not why you asked for a divorce, but it certainly played a part.

Something catches his eye when he turns to leave, a wayward item of clothing hanging haphazardly outside of the hamper.

Your underwear.

He plucks the scrap of blue lace and cotton from the edge and balls it into his fist, bringing it to his nose with a deep inhale. It’s sick, the way he needs you, the way the smell of your dirty panties, the honeyed ambrosia of your musk, makes his mouth water like a juvenile. Before he can change his mind, he shoves them in his pocket. He doesn’t usually take things, too aware of potentially tipping you off, but this; this is something he needs.

“Simon, can we please just… can we please just meet up and at least look at these papers?” It’s early for you to be up, on a Saturday, and he frowns at the screen in contemplation. Before, you’d never be up this early. Before, you would have insisted he stay under the covers with you, would have draped your body over his eagerly to convince him, sweetening him to your side with barely a whisper.

“How many weekends do we even get, anyway? This is your first one home in weeks. Stay in bed with me.” And he would, because of course he would. Because there was no place he’d rather be in those moments, curled up in bed, his nose in your hair, watching the rise and fall of your chest just to be sure it was all real, that it wasn’t some cruel dream that would disappear as soon as he woke up.

“You’ve been home for two weeks and haven’t even looked at them.” He grits his teeth, pressing the hard edge of his phone into his cheek. He can’t be divorced if there’s no signature. But you sound exasperated, stressed, and he’s eager to fix it for you, easily agreeing without too much badgering.

“Alright, sweetheart. Alright. I’ll meet you.”

He cannot believe his luck.

You’re nervous. Your hands flitter about, constantly touching the table, the silverware, your sore shoulder, the manilla envelope before finding the stem of your wine glass and tilting it to your lips, swallowing the alcohol over and over without any kind of hesitation. You must not have taken the muscle relaxer. He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch, and he wants to reach out and take your hand in his, soothe you, tell you that everything is alright but… it would serve no purpose for him tonight. Sorry, sweet girl. He sits at the little two top across from you with his arms crossed, watching his lack of interest in the conversation break you down, little by little, until you’re ordering another glass of wine, and then a third, all while he nurses the same glass of bourbon. The alcohol distracts you, strays you from your course, and you eventually stop trying to try talk about that bloody manilla envelope, leaning to one side a little more than the other in your chair. When you order a shot after dinner is over, he doesn’t protest, just watches your tongue follow the seam of the citrus wedge, dabbing along the spongy white fibers before your teeth dig into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.

He loves you drunk. Loves you sober, loves you tired, or grumpy, or smiling. He loves you anyway he can get you, but sometimes, when you’re like this, your smile sweet like sticky toffee, buzzing and humming, it helps him get away from himself, helps him stay present and lost inside you, swept up in you. It makes him think about the honeymoon, your feet buried in the sand, tucked away in secluded cove, no one around for miles. He fucked you on the beach, fucked you in the ocean, fucked you in someone else’s cabana that day, and you giggled the whole time. Pearly pitched music that wrapped in him the strongest feeling of bliss, skin that tasted like brine and sun, your hand in his on the walk back the hotel, peeking under your wide brim hat every few minutes to press his lips to yours.

“Wan’ one?” He shakes his head, but pulls your hand into his, feeling the warmth of your skin. When you don’t pull away, his blood heats, churning through his veins like fire. “Figured.” You sigh, and then flash him a mischievous, coy grin. Cheeky girl. Think you’re so clever. “Want to get out of here?” You croon, and he smiles indulgently behind the mask. “Lead the way.”

You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.

You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.

“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He coos, relishing in the way you moan with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Shhh. I’m here now, I’m gonna take care of it.”  

“You have to pull out.” You slur, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.

Bleedin’ Christ. You’re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up? 

“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.

To have and to hold. In sickness and in health. For better or worse. 

I promise to love and cherish you. 

Till death does us part.  

Till death. 

“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.

“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.

“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.

“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.

“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.

“I know. You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“

“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.

“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you want, what you’ve always said you wanted, the thing that made you cry in the middle of the night when he refused.

Well, he’s going to give it to you now.

“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.

And he’ll throw away the key. 

You blame yourself for the first time.

You blame your nerves. Your lack of self-control. You drank too much, trying to fight the anxiety that was threatening to spill from your mouth by way of your tongue.

  And well, didn’t he just look too fucking good, sitting across from you at dinner. Eyes on your lips. Hand dwarfing the rocks glass. Shoulders broader than a door frame. He put on mass since you saw him last, and you spent half the meal trying not to think about stripping his shirt off so you could inspect for new wounds, new scars, new stretch marks. 

And didn’t he feel so fucking good too, bending you over the kitchen table, sliding into you from behind with almost no prep, hint of pain making you see stars, just the way you like it. Fucking you like the man you married, like the man you fell in love with. Calling you his good girl and making you come all over his cock like a champ. 

You blame him for the second time.

You could blame yourself, for inviting him over- but your intention was clear. Sign the papers. Discuss the house. Be done with it all and close this chapter. Move on with your life, with both your lives.

But he showed up on the wrong day, at the wrong time, with a bottle of your favorite wine, the malbec. The one from your first anniversary, with a large pizza, thin crust with extra cheese (your favorite) and an order of garlic knots.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d eaten or not, figured I’d pick something up, just in case.” He shrugged, and just like that, you were bereft of words, staring at him with nothing coming to mind. Didn’t you say tomorrow? You stood in the door, blinking, Riley whining behind you, already eager to see his dad. “Sweetheart? You feelin’ okay?” His hand was on your arm, warm, thumb rubbing a circle on the inside of your elbow, and even that small amount of contact, that little trickle of concern, sent you into a spiral, muscle relaxer already working its way through your system, slowing your response time, making your brain a little fuzzy. His eyes shimmered in the porchlight, and you nodded, robotically, feet still stuck in the doorway, until he was prompting you to let him inside. “Can I come in then, get this signing business done?” 

You ate pizza and drank a glass of wine (frowned upon considering your medication, but one glass couldn’t kill you, right?) out of regular glassware (a sin, if anyone asked your poor mother) as the manilla envelope sat on the coffee table and practically watched the two of you, oozing with judgement.

You’re supposed to be divorcing. Not cozying up on the god damn couch. Weren’t you the one who told him to find a new place to live? Weren’t you the one who said the two of you wanted different things in life, from it? Weren’t you the one did this, pushed him away, shoved him out the door, told him it was all too little, too late?

But when his fingertips drifted to the top of your spine and then over, like he knew exactly where you were tender, you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into his touch, more and more until he had your back against his chest, strong grip on your shoulder, working your taut muscles with expertise.

His fingers dig deep, groan slipping between your teeth, breathy and low, enough that he’s immediately releasing you.

“Did I hurt you?” 

“N-no.” You shake your head, which only makes you dizzy. Probably shouldn’t have had that glass of wine. “Feels good.” He chuckles, and tucks you closer, head tipping back into his chest, eyes half closed. “Tweaked something in m’shoulder a few weeks ago.” For some reason, you feel the need to explain it, to tell him. “Went for a slide tackle, ended up halfway under the girl. And she was a lot bigger than me.” 

“You still playin’ in that women’s league?” 

“Every Sunday.”

You were so relaxed, so pliable, that you didn’t utter a single protest when he leaned you back on the couch like a doll, pulling your leggings down and off your ankles, sliding your panties away to bury his face in your pussy. You didn’t want to protest, or stop, or get up off the couch, even though, somewhere, in the back of your logical mind, you knew what you were doing was stupid. You knew, that doing this once was mistake, but doing it twice was just downright foolish. It’s just sex though. He can still just sign the papers and go. Who hasn’t had a little runaround with their soon to be ex-husband before the final nail is hammered in the coffin? You’ve never been a saint, after all. 

“Lift your hips.” He taps your side, and you do, letting him slide a throw pillow under them, plumping it under your ass for good measure. “Good girl.” You beam, woozily, and he chuckles, face cracking into something that’s flooded with light, something happy, the face of the man who used to be your husband, used to love you, want a future with you, not just endless rotations around the world with the 141 and a sometimes wife that he sometimes saw. 

“You have to pull out.” There’s backbone to your words, but it’s brittle, and easily breakable. “You didn’t listen last time, and ‘m still mad about it.” 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His lips press against your thigh, and then your knee, trailing up to where he’s got your ankle in his hips. “You just feel like fuckin’ heaven.” You huff. “I will this time, promise.” He rubs your thigh, zinging your skin with a small slap, your yelp teetering off into a moan when he presses knuckle deep into your sopping wet cunt. 

“This doesn’t change anything.” You don’t know why you say it, why you’re so compelled to draw the line in the sand in this moment, when you could have said it any time before hand. Or, even better, had him sign the papers like you originally planned.

“I know.” He shifts you, pulling his occupied fingers free to rearrange your legs, folding your knees back against your chest, the position combined with the pillow under your hips practically tilting you all the way back, the angle enough to make you a little dizzy. Your hand shoots forward to latch onto his forearm for balance, little whimper sneaking away from you, making his brow crease in concern. “I’ve got you.” He whispers against your cheek, lips ghosting over yours, plucking a sweet kiss from your mouth before there’s heat grazing your opening. He keeps a hand on your knee until he’s pushing inside, thrusting in one fell swoop all the way until he can’t go any further, punching your cervix with the head of his cock, swearing behind a tight jaw. It’s a lot of stretch at this angle, deeper, sharper, and you squirm, adjusting to the pressure of him splitting you open. 

“F-fuu-ck.” Your eyes roll back in your head, off somewhere, somewhere not this planet, not this plane of existence where he’s practically in your belly, slick noises bouncing off the walls of your living room, his knees against the pillow, back sloped for enough leverage that he’s practically fucking downwards into you, bent forward with his chest against yours, torso locking you in place, arms around your head like crown. Or a cage. “Si- fuck. It- it hurts.” you babble, gasping into his neck, teeth dangerously close to his shoulder. 

“I know, doin’ so good. Almost there.” You start to melt around him, gentled into it, the patting and cooing and kissing sweetening you soft by the passing second. “Easy love, open up for me.” He pants into your mouth, tongue licking in behind your teeth, invading your senses, your very existence, and it’s so much, too much, but you can’t stop. You let yourself get swept away, mind slipping deeper and deeper every time he thumbs your clit, rubbing a circle around the swollen bud, tapping across it just how you like. “Relax, sweetheart, that’s it.” He keeps bringing you closer and closer to coming, playing your body like only a husband could, plucking the strings that make the sweetest melodies, chords vibrating together until you’re clenching down on his cock, spine curling forward, everything inside of you exploding with a blinding, fiery orgasm that has you crying his name, body shaking underneath him with aftershocks. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” He murmurs into your sweat-soaked temple, cock sliding out just to push all the way deep again, hips grinding against your ass in a circle. “Haven’t you, sweet girl?” You nod, because yes, of course. You’re always good. 

“Yeeah.” You squeak, vowels heavy, eyes heavy, head heavy, everything too thick underneath the weight of your orgasm, his cock lodged inside you, the muscle relaxer mixed with the Malbec, the chagrined manilla envelope sitting on the table, a mere two feet from your prone body. 

“I know. I know you have.” The muscles in his arm flex, tendons in his neck becoming more defined, and his movements stutter, fucking you in a frantic, desperate way, wild with some sort of chaotic need. “I’m gonna give you a gift for it. For being so good.” 

“You- you-“ You mean to say you what? What do you mean? What are you talking about? But you can’t get any of it out, only able to watch him through half shuttered eyes, admiring the slope of his jaw, the white of the scar on his chin, the drip of sweat in his clavicle. 

“I love you.” A big hand holds your hip upwards, steady, pinning you to the pillow, pace turning hungry, unrelenting, his forehead pressed to yours as he bottoms out, trying to fuck you as deep as possible, to consume you, to drown in you, shoving you further and further up the couch. It’s erratic, and insane, and so- so Simon, that the tears dripping down your cheeks feel normal, everything feels right in your hazy, fucked out brain. “I love you.” He tells you again, and his jaw clicks in your ear. “I love- fuck, fuck, I’m coming.”

You should have protested. You should have reminded him of his promise. Should have said no, remember, you did this last time. We talked about this. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Couldn’t even get your mouth to work right, too spun out on him, on yourself, on floating on a cloud, high above your life, like choices didn’t have consequences. You were blissed out on your own bad decisions, sleepy in the cocoon of an alternate universe with your hips tilted on a pillow, where your husband was still your husband, and not some absent ghost.  

You didn’t even protest when he gathered you together in his arms and carried you upstairs. Didn’t mind that he got one of your make up wipes from the bathroom and cleaned your face, tucked you in, and kissed you goodnight.

You didn’t mind any of it, until you woke up the next morning and faced that manilla envelope.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because in a weeks’, two weeks’ time, he’d be somewhere on the other side of the planet, or hemisphere, or country, somewhere classified, doing god knows what. He’d be gone, and you’d be here, just like always. Just like old times. The sex didn’t matter. It meant nothing. You hardly remembered most it, just clips here and there, the taste of his mouth, the feeling of being so full of him. It didn’t matter, and you repeated those three words in the mirror, four, five times in the morning, intentionally not looking at the gleam of your rings, the wedding band and engagement ring, a fated pair… all alone.

Besides, you could always mail the paperwork. Address it to John. He’d make sure it gets taken care of.

You cringed when you thought about the note you’d have to enclose, the awful acknowledgement of your ineptitude- “Hi John, sorry, but could you have Simon sign these when you get a chance?”

And then, everything changed.

“LT!” Soap shouts over the din of the common room, jerking his head towards the office at the end of the hall. “Price needs ye.”

Price is standing behind his desk, arms across his chest when Simon pushes the door open. His lips quirk, head shaking with a sigh. “You have a phone call.” He motions to the landline, one of the only phones in this entire building, currently off the hook, open line waiting in the air. A phone call? “I’ll give you some privacy.”

When the door shuts, and he’s alone with the phone in his hand, he takes a deep breath, and puts it to his ear. “Hello?” His thumb strokes the silicone wedding band on his ring finger, rubbing it in a circle as he waits for a response. This number is for family members and emergencies, real serious shit, and he’s not-

“Simon?” It’s you. It’s your voice on the other end of the line, wet with tears. His heart stops in his chest, lungs frozen in place, anxiety curling in the pit of his stomach. Your crying always puts him on edge, and it’s worse, with him here, and you alone, everything hanging on the precipice. “Simon? Are you there?”

“I’m here. What’s wrong?” He closes his eyes. Say it. Please. Fucking hell. Please.

“I- I need, I have to tell you something.” You’re still crying, hiccupping with distress, and he wishes desperately that he was there with you, holding you, telling you everything going to be okay to your face, instead of over the phone.

“What is it sweetheart?” He tries to encourage, relaxing back into the chair when you take a deep breath. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I’m pregnant.” His palm covers the receiver immediately, just in case, and he thumps the top of Price’s desk with his fist, stupid grin stretching his face wide.

“You’re what?” He feigns shock, confusion. “Did you say… you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” You blubber.

“I thought you were on the pill, sweet girl. I wouldn’t have-“

“I told you to pull out! And I was b-but I stopped taking it, like two months ago. I forgot and after the first time when you were home, after the restaurant I thought, oh well, I had only been off the pill for a month, less than, after being on it for like fifteen years!” You practically shriek in his ear, a mix of sob and hysteria, trying to suck air into your lungs before continuing. “Getting pregnant after being on it for so long just doesn’t happen. It’s almost impossible! So, I d-didn’t worry about it. And then the second time was only like, two nights after that night and I just thought- I thought everything would be fine! I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so sorry.” You’re babbling, gasping, and he rubs his neck.

“Alright, alright. Hey, hey listen,” you’re still crying, voice cracking over the line and his heart breaks for you, guilt swamping him over you being alone. This was not the plan. He was supposed to be home for this part, to be there for you, if it took. “Sweetheart, breathe. You need to breathe.” You struggle through a few deep breaths, nearly wheezing, and he winces each time. It can't be good for you, or the baby, to be stressed like this. “Good girl, that’s it. Nice an’ slow. Good.”

“I'm sorry. I don’t know what to do, but-” You whisper, like you’re telling a secret, and he closes his eyes, imagining you pacing in the kitchen, hand in your hair, on your hip, anxious. He knows you. Knows you better than he knows himself, anyone. Soap, even. He knows, the reason why you’re saying sorry over and over, isn’t because you’re apologizing for getting pregnant, the two of you did that together. Or rather, he did it. 

It’s because of what’s coming next.

“I do know that I… I want this baby, Simon. I know you… you don’t want this. That you’ve never wanted it, and that’s okay. I can do this, alone. We’ll still get divor-“

“Stop.” He doesn’t enjoy cutting you off, but he needs to put an end to this talk, this idea that still seems to have a hold on you. “Look, I’ll… I’ll come home. We can talk and, figure out what we’re going to do, okay? You’re not alone sweet girl. I’ll be there.” You’re silent for a moment, a moment that feels too long.

“Okay. You promise?”

I promise to love and cherish you.

Till death does us part.

Till death.

“I promise.”

[littlenightma]

Run, Rabbit, Run | Thomas Hewitt x Female!Reader (NSFW)

Author’s Note: *slams post button* Here you go, sluts *evil cackle*

Warning tags: Primal kink, chase kink, breeding kink, lots o’ smut.

The Texas sun kissed your sweat-soaked skin with a harsh pressure of a thousand blow torches. His heavy breathing and roaring of his chainsaw pushed you forward, to keep going no matter what stood before you, but the persistent throbbing between your legs teased the resilience of your rapidly depleting willpower.

Miles separated you from the farm house and separated you from the rest of civilization. Oceans upon oceans of rocky dirt, dying grass, and the occasional road kill were all that could be seen.

The radiating sun, which had been sitting proudly in the sky to the East, now sat lamely in the West beginning to hide beyond the horizon. The ivory moon would force away its suffocating heat, providing the barest of illumination, increasing your chances at escaping.

A small part of you wished the sun would stay out and light up the world just a little while longer.

“You’re so polite for someone your age. You remind me so much of my boy Thomas.”

“If he’s anything like you, ma’am, he has to be the sweetest boy around.”

He was a six foot tall mountain of muscle and power, running with the determination of a blood hound tracking the scent of a wounded animal. When you thought you had successfully outsmarted him by suddenly changing directions within the tall, golden thickets at the last second, he’d still be barreling after you, unphased, no further than he was before.

There were moments, fleeting as they were, but impressionable nonetheless, where he had been so close to getting a hold of you. So close, the slight breeze from his hand attempting to grab your hair raised your skin, sucking the breath from your chest as you narrowly dodge him.

And that made things even more thrilling.

His grunts of frustration were muffled by his mask and the tight curve of his bottom lip. The lip jutted out awkwardly and looked as if it had been stung by a bee the way it was swollen.

Deformed.

And this deformed man was coming after you.

To him you were an outsider. A pest that needed eradicating. Even though his Mama willingly invited you into their home, he made you feel as if you were trespassing anyway. He wanted to kill you then and you were sure as shit he wanted to now, probably more than ever seeing how you keep escaping him.

She’d had asked him to keep you alive so assuming that he’d follow through with her request, your life would be spared, but for what sick reason? Would death be more lenient than what they had planned for you?

Of all days for your tire to blow out…

“Here he comes now,” said the woman, smiling expectantly as the basement door opened and out from the darkened staircase came Thomas.

The boy, no man, stood protectively behind the older woman. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching you with narrowed eyes that were partially covered by a curtain of black, curly hair. To you, they looked like snakes ready to strike, and so did he.

His nose and lower half of his face was covered by a worn, leather mask that wrapped around the base of his head with thick straps. It looked uncomfortable to wear as it was was to look at.

He was not pleased to see a stranger sitting in his living room and you wanted to sink deeper into the faded couch and disappear. Maybe if you pushed against the cushions hard enough.

A muffled scream came from the basement. Luda Mae glanced up at her son then back to you. Your back straightened.

“What was that?”

She smiled, yet it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nothing, dear.”

Again, the basement door opened, and out came a man in a Sheriff’s uniform. Fresh blood splattered across his chest and arms, trickling down as he sauntered his way into the room.

“Who in the hell is this pretty thing?”

Time slowed down and so did your breathing. All three had you pinned with various stares ranging from curiosity, understanding, and searing contempt. You weren’t going to risk it. You jumped from the couch and hauled ass out the door, leaving a trail of dust behind.

“Son of a bitch,” said Hoyt. “Boy, go get her before she causes us any trouble.”

Luda Mae grabbed Thomas’ hand. “Keep this one alive, baby. She’ll be good one to have around.”

Thomas wanted to argue his Mama’s odd request, but the sweet smile she gave him and the gentle way she held his hand made him reconsider. He didn’t want her, that’s for damn sure, but whatever his Mama wanted, she’d get.

In the midst of your recollection you realized it was ominously quiet behind you. Peering back, he was no longer running after you. I’m fact, he wasn’t there at all.

You spun around, eyes frantically searching the desolate landscape. He didn’t just vanish into thin air, not a man of his size, yet he had. The weeds danced and suddenly parted, revealing him on all fours as he pushed himself off the ground, propelling into you with a gut-wrenching force, knocking you onto your back.

His full body weight had you pinned, flattening the dry brush beneath you. His barrel-chest heaved and his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing. As frightened as you were, a strange sense of relief washed over and the instinct to raise your hips overtook you.

He tried moving away, but your legs locked him in. You awkwardly shimmied your shorts down and he watched you. His anger dissipated, replaced by hunger the more of your thighs he saw.

You captured his curious gaze, “Look how wet you made me.”

Your hand reached down and massaged your aching pussy through your sodden underwear. You were a mess, physically and mentally, and if you didn’t get fucked soon you were going to go rabid.

“Thomas, please. Don’t make me beg for it. You know what I want.”

Hearing his name revved him up like an engine. He could practically smell you through his mask. Your pussy glistened beneath the moonlight and he was more than willing to comply. With one hand still around your throat, he used the other to hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

He roughly pushed your soaked panties aside and thrusted roughly inside you with a loud grunt. It was swift and had you not been as wet as you were you knew it would have hurt more than it did. You gasped and cried out, pounding your fist to the ground. He fucked you like an animal. It was exactly what you’d been yearning for and if felt so fucking good to finally get it.

His hips bucked with a mighty strength, sending you backwards every time. It made it hard for him to keep himself inside you without having to adjust his position. He scooped you up like a rag doll and pinned you against a tree, folding you between it and his body. The change in position was too much as the angle allowed him to reach new depths inside you, hitting spots you never knew you had, sending you over the edge.

Your climax arrived so suddenly that it left you silently shaking and clinging to Thomas. Your pussy clamped down like the jaws of a lion and he growled, spilling his seed inside you from the tightness.

He laid you both down on the ground with your back to him. You took the time to catch your breath and settle down, but Thomas had other plans. He raised your top leg in the air, spreading you wide and began pumping again.

“Slow, Thomas. I’m really sore.”

Not thinking he’d actually do as you asked, you were surprised at the gradual way he eased his thick cock back into your pussy, keeping a close eye on your face. Although you were too spent to cum again, you nestled back against his chest and idly enjoyed his thrusts.

“Just like that, Thomas. Oh…”

His head was right there and the temptation to kiss him was too good to pass up. Soft lips met his through the mask and he jerked back, stopping his movements altogether.

“God, don’t you stop, Thomas. Your cock is too good. Come back here.”

You wrapped an arm around his head and he let you bring him back down. This time he kissed back, licking and sucking your lips like they were made of chocolate. You were in absolute bliss, not thinking clearly, lost in a haze of euphoria.

With his mouth full of you and you full of him, he groaned a guttural sound that didn’t sound quite human. Your pussy took his second load with open arms, milking every last bit of him he had left to offer. You broke the sloppy kiss to watch his cock pulse and his balls twitch, finding it super erotic.

His cock left you open and wide. You clenched your walls and streams of his fresh cum gushed out. You swiped some and brought it to your lips with Thomas watching in clear fascination. You then offered your finger to him.

He titled his head and inspected the leftover fluid. After some time of pondering his tongue tentatively flicked out, considering the taste, then placed your entire finger in his mouth. He sucked until there was nothing left to suck except the saltiness of your skin.

Using the tree as a support, you carefully maneuvered up. Everything was sore, from your head down to your hips and the simple task of bending down seemed impossible. In an oddly sweet gesture, Thomas gathered your shorts and helped you put them back on.

“You know,” you began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “It’s a long way back to the house. Who knows what could happen on the way there.”

Thomas made a sound caught between a chuckle and a scuff. He watched you strut away, eyes glued to your bouncing ass.

His Mama was right. You were worth keeping around.

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

(simon is originally like 6'4-6'5 but i made him about 6'10 for this hehe)

(size difference part 1)

older!ghost x inexperienced!reader where there is a big size/height difference between the two of you. you two have been dating for five months already and more than anything you both want to have sex with each other but ghost is hesitant.

one night you two were indulging in a heavy makeout session. you were seated in his lap, his scent hugging your body like his big arms wrapping around you as he pawed at u. tongues licking and and mouths sucking at each other. u felt warm n mushy on the inside, ur core throbbing as u pressed down onto his clothed, hard cock that made you shiver. if you were to look at yourself in the mirror your hair would be messy from simon's large hands running through your locks, lips kiss-bruised and hickeys littering your neck.

you kiss him before pulling away, blushing at the way the older man tries to follow your lips with his before he opens his eyes, running his strong, tattooed hands along your back then the sides of your torso.

"s-simon?" you squeak out, your small hands gently gripping onto his biceps.

simon gently kisses your lips, a small grunt sounding from his when you move forward on his erection accidentally. "yes?"

his deep, gruff voice makes you tremble with want.

your back arches a bit as he moves you even closer to him on his lap, giving you a slow, sloppy kiss as you whine softly.

"i-i--" you have a difficult time finding your words as simon squeezes your hips then smooths over the slight sting with his palm. he kisses you again, humming in acknowledgement. butterflies swarm your whole entire body--all the way to your fingertips.

he was so...big. you needed him so badly. you could feel your cunt sopping and thrumming with desire.

"'m ready.." you whisper against his lips.

"ready for...?" he asks, kissing from your lips to the corner of ur mouth down to your neck before suckingly firmly. you weave your manicured fingers through his soft hair as he sucks, his arms wrapped around your lower back bringing you closer to him as you whimper.

you swallow, biting your lower lip--eyebrows pinched upwards as ur brain gets more fuzzy. simon kisses his way back up to your lips, ur hips subtely dragging slowly on his meaty thighs and lap.

"w-want u.." u blush. you felt so flustered talking about wanting to have sex with him. or wanting to have sex in general. it took six weeks for you to feel comfortable making out with him. not because you were afraid of him, but because you had never done anything like that with anyone before.

"baby.." he kisses the corner of your mouth gently before pulling away from your lips a bit. his voice is soft and so sweet, your body feeling warmer. his left hand combs through your hair. "haven't even got ya prepared, yet.." u lean forward, pressing your lips to his before pulling away slightly.

"what do ya mean?" you ask, confusion lacing your features.

simon can tell he's gonna need to spell it out for you in order for you to get what he's saying.

"well, it's just that," he thinks for a second, running his thumb against the fat of your lower lip. "y'know, 'm a lot bigger than you.."

you blush.

your height difference was something you fucking loved. he was about 6'10 and you were..well, no where near that.

you lace your fingers with his, watching how his hand dwarfs yours completely. you kiss his knuckle gently.

"'s okay if you don't wanna do it with me.." your words are sad, and far, far, far from the truth.

he's been fantansizing about fucking you since he met you. the way he would make you feel better than anyone else has ever made you feel. he wanted to treat you right. fuck you until you saw stars, the moon, and everything above.

"aw, princess.." he kisses you again. "y'know that's not true..wanna be with you.. wanna be inside ya so fucking badly," his words make you feel hot. "just that, well, you're the smallest 've ever been with..don't wanna hurt ya."

you slowly kiss him, ur body trembling slightly. "don't care if you hurt me, j-just want you, please.."

the only thing you two had done was kiss and dry hump until you got too embarrassed to finish (simon didn't have that problem).

simon chuckles against your lips, moving so your below him on the bed. "well, i care, sweet girl..want you to feel good," he thinks for a moment, and you kitten lick his lips before massaging your tongues together. "maybe we could do somethin' else for right now if you're okay with it. get you ready.." he kisses from your mouth down to your neck, sucking. he shifts his position a bit. your thighs open a bit automatically.

he raises your shirt from your belly right before leaving small, soft, kisses on your skin. you giggle rubbing your right, sock-cladded calf along the side of his body bashfully. simon smiles, his hands running along the sides of your torso.

"want me to eat this pretty pussy? been thinkin' about tastin' you since i saw ya."

his blunt words and deep drawl make your bottom lip find its way sucked into your mouth right before you gently chew on it.

"hm?" he asks again, dragging your shirt up and off your body, leaving you in a cute pink bra, your thigh high socks on along with your navy blue pleated skirt and matching pink underwear with a tiny bow at the top.

you nod, grabbing a hold of your pink stuffed rabbit ghost bought for you one day when you were sad.

"y-yes please.."

"yeah?" he smirks a bit, and you can feel how your whole body buzzes with want.

you've never wanted someone more. your brain goes numb.

simon sees how you tug onto your bra, trying to almost rip it off. he can see the way your mind so badly wants to shut off.

"'s okay, love, i gotcha.." he lifts your back up a bit, snapping your bra off as your tits fall out, nipples hard and aching to be touched.

simon was normally an ass man, but god, he loved the way you trembled when he ran his fingers over your pert nipples, rubbing his thumbs on them as you whine and whimper.

"p-pretty please, si, need you.." your voice was soft, eyes closed as u practically drooled onto your stuffie.

"always so good," he murmurs, dragging your skirt down. his eyes fall to the big wet patch on your panties as you whine. he runs his thumb over it before getting too greedy and dragging them down your legs, discarding them on the ground.

fuck, you look so beautiful.

"gonna fuck this pretty cunt one day, sweetie..jus' gotta getcha ready, mk?"

you nod, watching the way simon's back and shoulders flex as he blows a small gust of air from his lips onto your fat button.

you whine loudly, your hips twitching.

"shh.." he shushes, kissing the insides of your thighs.

he plants a small kiss on your cunt, and you whine again.

"behave, princess..gotta take my time. been dreamin' about this."

his eyes pool with a dark shadow of lust as he slowly licks his way from the bottom of your wet cunt up to your clit, circling his tongue as you moan softly.

his hands make their way up to your breasts as they tug and pull on your pebbled nipples, your mouth dropping open as you feel overwhelmed with want.

you gently hump against his mouth as he fucks his tongue into you, squirming a bit as he opens your thighs wider, his right hand petting your socked knee.

he takes your stuffie from your hands, rubbing your nipples with its fur as he suckles on your clit, slobbering onto your cunt, your wetness dripping onto his bed.

lewd, wet sounds fill the air as your cunt pounds-- small gasps bouncing off of the walls as your moans get higher and more needy. simon's mouth harshly sucking on your engorged button, grappeling at your tits before you suddenly gush into his mouth, rubbing against his face as you cry, coming down as your boyfriend drinks down your nectar.

your brain is all mushy, all you can think about is what he's gonna do next..right before simon's arms engulf your body as he kisses you gently, sleep taking you under.

[usedtobecooler]

"daddy, sit still, you gonna ruin it!" the frustrated little huffs from your three year old echo down the hall as you step foot into the apartment, toeing off your shoes next to the door after a long day.

"i'm trying, baby girl, it's tickly," eddie's soft dad voice makes your heart melt, the tender way he coos to her like she hung the moon and the stars.

you walk in through the door to see one of your old eyeshadow pallets balanced haphazardly on the edge of the sofa, your baby girl in her fuzzy pyjamas sat atop eddie's stomach as she runs an old fluffy brush over his eyelids.

"baby love, what're you doing to daddy?" you laugh, sneaking up behind her to check out her handywork. when she notices your presence the widest smile appears, little dimples poking in as her face scrunches up.

"pupple!" she grins, little curly pigtails swaying as she turns around to look at you with her big brown eyes, full of mischief and pride as she shows off the masterpiece.

eddie looks like he's been punched six ways from sunday, dark mauve and vibrant lilacs dusted along his eyelids, right up to his eyebrows. fanning out over his temples, down his lower lash line and onto his cheeks.

"sure is purple, baby," you smile back, sticking two thumbs up in her direction, which she copies with enthusiasm, "you look so pretty, daddy!"

eddie peels one eye open, wild curls fanned out over the sofa pillow from where he's slumped, hands on your daughters back to keep her upright, "pretty enough to take on a date?"

"absolutely," you beam, leaning over to give him a small kiss, grinning against his lips, "maybe to the movie theatre... or on a late night stroll... or anywhere dark."

"ha ha," eddie responds dryly, rolls his eyes, before putting his attention back on your little one, "and what do you think, princess? where should we go to show off your gorgeous artwork?"

her little chubby finger points towards the door, "park!" she giggles, high pitched and screechy, as she clambers off of eddie with great enthusiasm.

you end up in the park, in broad daylight, amongst giggling mothers and other small children who look mixtures of mortified and awe struck.

[worldsover]

The Strongest Man Alive

~4k words, oral, gentle dom!Irene

The moon—a weak thing—casts a soft glow through your curtains, illuminating the tangled sheets and two figures and eight limbs entwined. Bae Joohyun. Yours. And yours, she tastes of soju. You push away the curtains of her dark brown hair. You must do better than the moon if you want to see her face.

You don't want to see her face. How weak. Want can't be enough. Want is the moon whose light could never push.

Of course, it's need, this need above gravity—you will fly under your own power to see her gentle eyes shaped like almonds, the scrunch of her petite nose, or the tinge of pink on her cheeks. Such a tinge, you've pulled into her milky skin with each kiss.

Of course, it's need: if you could draw something so symmetrical as the oval of her face, you would be putting your work in galleries. Instead, you find yourself here, marveling at the slope of her jaw. At the slope of her jaw, your lips dance, taste one bead of sweat. Then, you're latched to her neck, making her moan.

Her body yearns against yours. Arms around your neck, your stomachs press together like puzzle pieces (more like magnets: two separate things now one). Her legs, those endless legs, lace around your hips as if they've been there your whole life. They've been there for twenty-six days, if you were to start counting from when you first asked her out. They've been there for five years, if you were to start counting from when you first met her as a friend of a friend. They'll be there forever, because why would you bother counting down when you could count up.

But you couldn't count up how you got here. The nights you shared in your bed or Joohyun's bed were innocent, simple: movies, warm kisses, cuddles. You had expected even slower than that. The lurid moans or the hands on your ass weren't part of the plan. There never could have been a plan. You didn't understand how fate penciled in you and Joohyun as a couple. The woman eight years your senior, aloof and intimidating and introverted. You'd overwhelm her with energy. She'd scare you with an icy glare.

This isn't Joohyun.

Love and care as a person is closer to your real Joohyun. As you aspire to redden and purple her sensitive neck with your lips, her gaze into you is as a stronger light, the morning sun, whose warmth is true and full. The air too, whatever is left between your bodies, crackles with heat, making sleep and a timeful waking for work both distant dreams. Your hand runs down the back of her neck, over thin layers of sweat on her skin, before slipping under her shirt to explore further.

Asymmetries and imbalance—you're understanding these are inescapable parts of you and Joohyun, the longer you count the time together. She's the leader. You're the follower. She might be examining your gluteus maximus like a butcher inspecting meat, pulling you by the chin to kiss your lips again, but you have to ask her: "Do you mind if I touch you lower?" See, gravity is the moon is weak is if as if gravity is not Joohyun's, and in her orbit you float and careful to stay, you seek permission even when you don't need it.

Float higher. Joohyun giggles. It's an often sound, not often enough. "Of course, handsome." That's Joohyun's voice playful and light and airy as a cloud; this is Joohyun dark and dangerous and knife in hand—"Touch me wherever you like."

Because if she says it like that, like she's honestly out to kill you, honestly out to stab you in the heart and in the brain and in the nerves until she's carved out everything that isn't just primal reaction and until something gets cold and hardens and presses against her midriff—and when she does it again, "Go ahead, touch me," and she grabs your wrist and makes you place your hand on her asscheeks—then how are you supposed to react when she says:

"How do you feel about… letting me suck your dick?" Lip bite and all?

This isn't Joohyun. It really isn't Joohyun. Not those eyes, not this soon. Not the woman who dressed modestly, who kept her distance from other men, who fiercely protected her female friends. Your Joohyun would ask for patience. And you were content with your Joohyun. But then, your Joohyun was an image, based on an external shell of a woman, and you can't imagine the real, soft, fleshy bits exposed more than Joohyun right now. And this Joohyun, were you less or more content with this one? Man, take the blowjob—you, an idiot, instead ask, "Now? Suck? T-tonight?"

"Yes, honey," she replies, but her voice is not so sweet. It refuses to let up, to let go of the boning knife; it stays deep, twisting your stomach. "I didn't ask for tomorrow."

Nothing more that you want, but unable to answer, you kiss her again with newfound urgency. Your fingers sink into her ass, and you taste her moan on your tongue. A breathless noise, a hint of a cloud, as if this might tip the balance or untwist the blade. And then a mote of a daring idea in your mind blossoms to sudden action without thinking. "Only if you beg for my dick," you say, with a seriousness that keeps your mouth open. You were not the weakness and the unweight of a pithy satellite.

Joohyun raises a brow. It's over. It's all over. Goodness. You had one chance with the prettiest woman, and now what? But then she grins wide. "Oh, look at you. How bold." This is a smaller knife, used to pare the skin off of fruits, and the pride off of men, so you pout and she pets your head, and you feel better and you feel smaller. "No, I'm kidding, baby. That was really hot. Do it again."

You look down. You are the weakness and…

"I'm sorry, I swear, you did great. I would gladly beg for your cock any day." Joohyun sits up against your hardwood headboard, looks at you through her long, fluttering lashes. "Please? Pwease? Pretty pleeease, can I suck your cock?"

This isn't Joohyun. And this isn't a paring knife, nor a boning knife, nor a playful cloud of words. This is a spoon that eats ice cweam. She pushes her chest together, tempting with cleavage peeking out of her bra top.

In response, you let out a soft whimper.

"Aww, does that mean yes?" she asks.

"Mhm," you say, a shy nod in addition.

"That's my man," she says. That must be the natural truth already. Joohyun said so.

As you sit up to copy her, she pushes you back down using a gentle hand on your chest.

"Just relax and let me take care of you, baby. Be a good boy and trust me." This knife… it cuts your sandwiches in a diagonal, and you think maybe this time, there is a hint of honey in her voice. She coos as she slides between your legs and tugs down your pants with her teeth. When your ankles are free of the pants, Joohyun returns her head by your thighs, and says with a sigh, "Ahh, it's like unwrapping a present. Look at that pretty bulge of yours."

You understand this as a rhetorical command, but still, you look, because by that pretty bulge rests Joohyun's face, and you shudder at its proximity. And while the knife metaphor is over, the mouth literal is more evocative than ever. She trails fingers down your chest and stomach while lips linger on your underwear. When she laps at your bulge, even if she only uses the very tip of her tongue, saliva's wetness seeps through the fabric. Even if the tip of her tongue is scalpel-precise in tracing your cock's outline, your own pre-cum must be seeping too. Her every motion is subtle but effective; you're already mewling loudly, already writhing beneath her.

"Looks like someone is excited." Joohyun uses her teeth again, now fully freeing your arousal from its confines. Your cock springs out and nearly hits her face, and she lets out a delighted squeal and takes control of the unruly actor with her small fingers. "I'm excited too. Gosh, it's so cute how hard you are."

As you lay there, breathless and trembling with desire, Joohyun gazes with adoration and palms along your hardened length. "Please," you say like you don't know what you're asking for.

Contented, Joohyun purrs, grazes her nails on your shaft, traces sinuous patterns down your pulsing vein. "You're so precious," she whispers. Then, stricter (more knife): "But I don't hear enough begging yet."

You're pathetic, weightless, suspended on four strings for each of your four limbs and Joohyun is your puppetmaster and Joohyun is your everything so with your everything, you say, "Please, I need it so bad. Need to feel your mouth on me, n-now. I'm a good boy, please, I'll be good for you, I'll do anything for it. You said you'd take care of me, p-please, I need you to…"

Joohyun places a finger on your lips, and you gulp.

"Aww," she responds with a soft chuckle, soft kisses traveling up your length. "Anything? Hmm…" With each deliberate swipe of her tongue, especially as it crosses the ridge to your cockhead, the most concentrated bundle of nerves, unexpected sounds escape from deep within your throat. Nothing, it seems, is ever in the plans, but especially not the low, throaty, bubbly noses, or the high whiny pitches you make. As her lips ghost over the tip of your cock, you want to grab her hair, to command her to suck—no, you don't.

This isn't you.

If Joohyun expects you to wait, whether it's the next few seconds or until the next moon phase, you will wait.

So you wait.

Now the warmth of her breath is like the warmth of her skin is like the quiet warmth of a distant star, only felt in the deepest calm of the night.

Her dark eyes pierce you with their gaze, dark as to match the inky blacks that surround such a faraway body.

Outside, the wind hums low, like it too is aware of the moment between you and Bae Joohyun. But no one, not even nature, can understand truly.

It's all so hot, so bright, so loud.

After a moment too long and not a moment too soon, Joohyun closes her mouth over your cockhead. It's slow, so slow, like she's tasting this inch and considering the merits of its flavor, then she's savoring the next inch, where she compares and contrasts its mouthfeel. Embarrassingly loud, you groan as she takes more of you in, creating a vacuum seal with her lips. And as if the wet sounds aren't enough, she hums around you, sending vibrations that might start at your cock but cascade through your body. Every now and then, her tongue darts out to flirt around your frenulum while her equally adept hands twist your shaft and fondle your ballsack.

Suddenly, her sucking becomes fast and urgent like a storm rolling in on a sunny day. Her eyes narrow in concentration, a look you've only seen during arcade dates or board game nights—she's trying to win something, and the prize lies in your balls.

You shut your eyelids like you don't want tears to escape, clench your thighs like you want her to lose for once. "Fuck, wait," you grit out through your teeth, "wait, wait, I'm gonna cum if you keep going like this."

Joohyun hesitates for a moment, as though her blowjob is a runaway train. But then she composes herself and pulls away from your cock with a playful smack of her lips. "Aww? Already?" she asks, and you're unsure if she's teasing as usual or in genuine dismay. "Thank for letting me know, sweetheart. I'll slow down."

She adjusts her pace: her lips linger on the base of your shaft, waning crescent, or your sensitive cockhead, waxing gibbous, and her hand has settled on a firm grip of your testicles—and none of that bodes well for your endurance. Joohyun knows exactly what she's doing to you; whenever she makes eye contact, the corner of her lips tugs into a sly smile.

"Think you can handle more?" she asks, low and husky. "I don't wanna push you too far."

She might—she will. Nevertheless, even more unbearable is the mere thought of the lack of her warm and wet ministrations on your member. "Please, keep going. It's okay."

"Promise?" She sticks out her pinky finger. You interlock your finger with hers. Though her hand is small and delicate compared to yours, the weight of the deal is not so. You've just signed a pact with the devil, but all your blood has already rushed to your cock so there's no way you had enough ink. It seems hell's denizens have no respect for legal authority: Joohyun's mouth rushes back to a vigorous rhythm along your shaft, this time allowing more foamy spit to escape the sides of her mouth. Like a sloppy drunk, she talks with a mouth full of you. "I want you to enjoy thih... but I also wanna be a little selfish and worship your cock, pwopehly—" she coughs. "And I can't do that if my precious man cums too early. So I need you to be brave and strong. You'ww be bwave, wight?"

You mouth "I'll be fine" and you've just lied to Joohyun. You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly filled her mouth with your load, though you'd feel guilt at the lack of forewarning. You find yourself growing louder and more desperate with each pass of her lips.

"That's it, moan as much as you want, babe. I love hearing you."

"Nngh, fuck, you make me feel so good," you say, groaning, grunting, panting.

Her eyes shine with admiration, with honesty: she truly loves every sound she extracts from you. "Well, you make me feel more than just good. I think I'm in love with sucking your cock. No, I know I am. The way it pulses in my mouth, mmm, fuck... it makes me dripping wet." She licks her lips. "I wanna give you all the pleasure in the world. You deserve it."

To prove her point, Joohyun takes a break from your dick and focuses on your testicles instead. She engulfs them one by one, sucking and licking like they are the ripest, juiciest fruit; you must be incredibly delicious because her teeth graze and tug carefully at the loose skin, making you feel heavy and lightheaded simultaneously. Despite your length resting heavily against her forehead and nose and the mess of saliva across her face, Joohyun remains the epitome of beauty.

"No one else gets to see me like this, my love," she says, winking—usually, that'd be deliberate, but you wager it's the sticky saliva and pre-cum dripping from your cock onto her face. Despite the debauchery of the moment, she still manages to look adorable with one eye closed and the other half-open as if she's trying to perfect her winking technique.

Your hands instinctively tangle in her hair, unable to restrain yourself any longer as the intensity increases, both balls in her mouth.

"Close again?" she asks, releasing you from the confines of her mouth with only her fingers remaining on clean-up duty: first, she takes care of the frothy mess on her face and untangles wet strands of hair; then, she collects the sheen on your cock before licking each digit clean. She crawls up the bed, her petite form hovering above you until her face is right next to yours again. You could have never signed a deal with the devil because this is an angel. The angel presses her lips to yours, a tantalizing and bittersweet combination of her saliva mixed with your own juices.

"Does that feel better, babe? I know how much you love to taste my lips."

"Mmm, I do, thank you." Even more than that, however, the kiss is a welcome reprieve from the constant barrage of ecstasy at your genitals. Like earlier tonight, your hands roam over her body. However, now you don't just stop at her smooth curves and pert behind. Your fingers trail lower, finding their way to the warm, wet space between her thighs. As you trace her slick slit, she moans into your mouth, and you realize she wasn't lying. Her cunt is soaked. You're jealous of how much pleasure she can derive from giving pleasure. There is little resistance for your digits to glide inside, a knuckle deep, then two. In a frenzy, her hands roam as well, exploring your every dip and muscle, save for your throbbing erection and twitching balls. Again, you welcome her prudence, though you pay her in kind with a fingerfucking that accelerates.

"Mhm, yes, that's it, touch me like that." Joohyun's gasps interweave each kiss. "You're amazing, such a good, good boy. I'll make you cum such a big load in my mouth soon, I promise."

The thought of it inspires you: you bring your fingers to your lips and taste the remnants of her pleasure, salty and tangy and addicting. She watches you with a mixture of amusement and desire, her cheeks flushed.

"Is it really that good?" she asks, her voice betraying her usual confidence or playfulness as she breathes heavily.

"The yummiest," you reply with a lustful grin, already planning to tongue-map every inch of her cunt later. For now, your focus is fixed on the pleasure Joohyun can bring you elsewhere on your body. Your mind races as her rosy lips part in happiness and glisten like freshly picked strawberries. To say your dick is throbbing is an insult to throbbing; it's a bundle of fireworks ready to set off at any time. "Can... can you suck me again?"

"You sure?" Joohyun asks with a gentle stroke of your cheek, a slight pout, raised brows. There's genuine concern in her tone, however mild, but it quickly falls back to cheeky. "Maybe I should just keep kissing you again." Her pillowy lips press against yours, your jaw, your cheek. Sucks on your neck. Nibbles on your ear. Isn't enough.

You plead, your voice raw and exposed, "No, I need it. Need your mouth on my cock again. Need to cum."

Joohyun's eyes light up with mischief and she leans in close, her sweet breath caressing your face as she purrs, "You're so fun to play with. And it's adorable how much you want this."

Suddenly, her demeanor shifts and she becomes stern once more. "Say 'please' if you need it that bad," she demands.

You comply forthwith, the word slipping from your mouth like a sigh.

Before any of your reactions can inform your brain, Joohyun's lips and tongue envelop your aching cock. Then all the information comes all at once. Light as the fastest hits first as your eyes capture the determination in hers, the way her brows furrow in concentration, how her hair flies about in the sudden action. Then comes the heat, as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth, and the sound of glucks and other carnal oral noises reach your ears last.

Your replies have devolved into incoherent babbling by now; the only word you can repeat is the one she's made you say, and as much as you echo "please", she swallows your dick at just the right pace—just the wrong pace. Fast enough to make you whip your head back, slow enough to leave you on the brink of climax.

"Keep begging all you want, you're not cumming until I've had my fun. You want to explode into my mouth, don't you?" she taunts—look at the stripe Joohyun makes with her tongue. Is she cleaning the saliva on your shaft or covering it further is a question that's repeated ten times for the ten licks between the hundred dips of her mouth. "You want to pound that perfect cock into my throat and coat it with your load?" Wow, it's like she's in your head. Incredible. "Okay. Yeah. I can do that." And with a deep swallow, your head's in her as she takes you all the way down, and holds down, long enough for a single tear to swell in her eye.

Joohyun's nose jams against your stomach, and her eyes twitch—it's the wink again, or so you'd think if you didn't feel your tip jab the back of her throat. A bubble of thick saliva becomes bubbles as determined as she is to ignore her own need to breathe. With every clench of her throat around you, sparks course your nerves, or maybe it's not just the pressure, but the sight of the distension at her neck. Either way, you're unsure how lightning has yet to strike your rod. Every gag seems calculated, designed to make you squirm, and she has an uncanny ability to recognize the approach of your climax. As though through the pulse of your cock vein, she knows when to pull back just when your hairs start to raise, when the goosebumps form. The buildup of static denied its discharge. You would try to thrust your hips into her, regardless of whether you should or shouldn't but should's or shouldn't's are aren't's when she's holding your thighs down. Joohyun manages to treat your cock like a toy to tease and please herself with, despite her fucking her own face into it.

"You must be trying so hard..."

Joohyun pauses momentarily, breathes out through her nose, before another deep swallow.

"Not to explode..."

One more swallow.

"Into mommy's mouth... right?"

And then it happens. With a primal cry, you release everything you have into Joohyun's waiting mouth, her eyes widening in surprise before she eagerly swallows every last drop. Your body trembles with pleasure as she continues to suck you clean, your mind blissfully numb. Even after you finish Joohyun continues to suckle gently on your cock, sending aftershocks of hot bliss through your body; however, the overstimulation is a bucket of cold ice that has you gripping the sheets and begging through loud groans: "Please, please, ahhh."

"Please, what?"

You shake your head as your thighs clench and your eyes roll back. You're still pulsating, still unloading onto her tongue as her lips pucker and lock around your dick. "No, t-too much," you say.

"Sensitive? Aww, baby." But there's a glint of mischief in her eye that makes you question her. Before you can protest, she takes you back into her mouth, working her tongue around the underside of your shaft and suctioning with her lips, pushing herself down into your root until she has wrung you out into her stomach.

When she eventually pulls herself off your sore and spent member, Joohyun's mouth stays open. "Wow, I've never done that. I'm so, so sorry... I swear, I'm not some crazy nympho obsessed with your cock or anything."

You're not sure you believe. You are sure you forgive her. As you catch your breath and bask in the afterglow of mind-altering bliss, Joohyun's head weighing on her thigh, you wonder if what's so irresistible about your cum to her—she's still playing with a glob of it in her mouth. When she gulps, she lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Hmm... seems like you really, really liked when I said a certain word. Or at least your dick did," Joohyun suggests, flicking at and toying with your softness, making you jump.

As her eyes captivate yours, she poses a question that rocks your world.

"Would you like me to be your mommy—" "Yes."

[character-reference-cafe]

(Former) Lowermoon 6 Kyogai Character Sheet

[lxkeee]

⋆.˚ . FLY ME TO THE MOON ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚.

-PART FIVE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Archangel Raphael! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Notes: two angels awkwardly trying to make amends.

PART ONE | PART FOUR | PART SIX | MISC.

[y/n] continues to visit a few days later to watch over the hotel and keep track of the progress and anyone can tell that Lucifer and the said angel are trying to discreetly hide the fact they are trying to avoid each other.

Which is increasingly hard to do so for the king of hell, the man can clearly tell that the woman is clearly overworked based on the eye bags underneath her eyes, the dark circles around her eyes, and how she often spaces out.

Lucifer knows how much responsibility the virtues carry, he was one after all but it wasn't as bad before as... Evil didn't exist but because of his actions, it gave the virtues more work and it made work more dangerous as they tried to control the evil that's constantly growing on earth.

Lucifer watches [y/n] as she worked,they are currently at the second floor balcony, sitting by the railings as they looked at the people at the lobby, currently in her disguise—when we say disguise, her wings and halo are hidden away from prying eyes, of course she wears darker clothes to not stand out. Lucifer watches the woman write something on her notepad as she watches over how the new guests acted but Lucifer can see how her head lowers ever so often as she accidentally falls asleep for a few seconds before flinching back up as she wakes up.

His eyes softened, his hand instinctively trying to reach out to her but slowly retracting it back, unsure if he's allowed to physically touch her.

A lightbulb lights up in his mind, remembering the trick he used to do to her to get her to sleep back when they were still in heaven together.

Lucifer discreetly summons a fluffy white pillow, once he notices [y/n] slowly losing consciousness, he gently holds the pillow at the side of her face, discreetly allowing her head to rest on the soft pillow. Slowly bringing his hand down, bringing the pillow along with [y/n]'s sleeping form down. Now the pillow is on his lap with [y/n] sleeping on it. Passed out and deep asleep. Lucifer smiles softly as he looks at her sleeping face.

Lucifer gently removed the clipboard with her notes and the pen from her hands, snapping his fingers to teleport it to [y/n]'s room.

Now on to the next problem, [y/n]'s sleeping form.

“I can't let anyone see us like this.” Lucifer whispers to himself, even though [y/n] is taller than him, he can effortlessly carry her.

The pillow falls into the ground as he princess carried her, thankfully her room isn't too far, just a few doors down the second floor hallway.

[Y/n] snuggles against his chest as he carries her, warmth crawls up to Lucifer's cheeks, his eyes softening in adoration. He misses this. He missed having her in his arms. He misses her in general.

With a sigh, he resumes back to walking. Finally arriving at [y/n]'s room, using his powers [keekee] to unlock the room, [y/n]'s room is neat and tidy, minimalist even, which is understandable since she's only temporarily staying here.

Lucifer carries her to her bed, tucking her gently and making sure she's comfortable. He made sure to remove some of her hair accessories because he knows she'll feel uncomfortable if she accidentally lies on it.

Lucifer places the hair accessories on the bedside table, proud of his work. He looks at the sleeping angel, a small smile on his face as he finally sees her taking a break. Squeezing her hand comfortingly. Despite their current differences, Lucifer doesn't like seeing her like this—overworked, and mentally and physically not okay in general.

“Rest up, [y/n]... You've been working too hard.” He says softly, he was about to leave and finally let go of her hand when she held onto him, holding his hand.

“Don't leave me again, please..?” she begged softly, half-asleep. Her hands squeezed his hand as if she's afraid he'll slip out of her grasp once more and leave her again.

Lucifer's breath hitched, a tear streaming down his beautiful pale and reddish cheek.

“I won't, I promise I won't leave you again. I'll make sure of it.” He whispers softly, his other hand caressing away the strands of her hair that was falling onto her face.

“I'll be here, just an arms reach. But I really need to go and help my daughter... So, I'll give you this...” he says gently, conjuring up a tiny duck plushie with a large white hat that has an apple and a snake in thin air and placing it carefully underneath her arms.

“This will have to do for now but I hope one day, you'll allow me to be fully back into your life and I'll wait for that moment to happen, even if it lasts for eternity.” he says, eye's half-lidded and soft as he spoke. Finally freeing his hand, he began to turn away from her.

“Rest up, Mon ange. Call out my name if you need me... Just like you used to, I'll be here when you call and I promise that, a promise that I'll make sure to keep.” Lucifer whispers with a small smile before finally leaving her side and leaving her room, making sure to lock it from the inside.

[Y/n] was able to sleep properly after so many eons of sleepless nights, cuddling tightly against her new plushie.

As Lucifer got out of [y/n]'s room, Angel Dust so happens to get out of his own room and the arachnid sees the king of hell leaving a certain archangel's room. The arachnid gave Lucifer wiggling eyebrows and a smirk and Lucifer blushes, “It's not what it looks like!” Lucifer defends himself and Angel just gives him a raised eyebrow, “Whaat...? I haven't even said anything yet~” he says and Lucifer just blushed in embarrassment as he quickly teleports away from the arachnid and back to his own room.

Plopping onto his bed and getting underneath the covers, pressing a pillow against his face and just sighs in embarrassment.

Lucifer was beginning to wonder if his actions were too straightforward, was it too much? Will [y/n] hate him even more?

Decisions, decisions, all of them wrong. He says to himself as he groans.

Hopefully this won't deepen the gap between.

But one thing Lucifer is certain is that everything he has said to [y/n] as she slept was all true. All of those words came deep within from inside his heart.

Snuggling into his blanket, Lucifer yawns. He's too emotionally tired to deal with all of this so he'll be running away from his problems by sleeping. Getting comfortably underneath the blanket, the king of hell fell asleep.

With a tired groan, [y/n] slowly stretched her body as she slowly woke up. Yawning as she did so.

“That was one of the best sleep I've had in a while.” she thought before her eyes finally snapped open at the realization, sleep? Weren't she just taking notes of the sinner's progress?!

She sat up, her head darting left and right and seeing that she was back inside her hotel room.

“How did I get here...?” she thought and her eyes landed on the duck plushie that was on beside her, a plushie that is certainly new and not she owned. Her eyes softened, gently grabbing the stuffed animal and examining its features—the most prominent being the big white hat with the snake and apple.

“Oh... Lucifer...” [y/n] mutters as she finally brought the plushie to her arms and hugged it. “He must've carried me back here.” she thought with a small smile and sighs softly.

“I really hope that everything will return to how it used to be.... Just like we used to, I missed you...” she whispers, talking to the plushie as if it could hear her. Chuckling to herself, she places back down the plushie to the empty spot of her bed.

Finally getting out of bed, she made sure she was presentable as she brushed her hair and patted away the creases of her clothes.

Grabbing the clipboard and pen that was on the bedside table, she assumed it was Lucifer who placed it there.

“Time to resume work.” she muttered and quickly left her room, making sure it's locked.

After that, the two slowly and surely got less awkward around each, still awkward but now they know the other doesn't hate them.

[Y/n] watches as Charlie places four apple pies on the table, the sweets are something they [Charlie and Vaggie] got in the way while they were out in the pride city, [y/n] watching the hotel folks begin to take a slice of their own. I remember Lucifer's favorite sweet is apple pie, I wonder why he's not down here? She thought to herself, remembering the times the two used to bake sweets together in heaven and the man always requesting apple pie whenever he visits her.

[Y/n] flinches slightly when she feels that someone tapped her shoulder, turning around and looking down to see Charlie standing there with a smile on her face, “[y/n], feel free to take a slice for yourself. You're part of the team now.” Charlie says with a grin and [y/n] eyes widened in surprise. I'm part of the team...? She thought to herself.

[Y/n] just chuckled and nodded, ruffling the smaller girl's hair, “I am good, but thank you though.” [y/n] says with a smile, she really wants a slice but she doesn't feel comfortable eating with the others yet.

Charlie noticed that the older woman has a nervous look in her eyes as she watched the others converse with each other. During [y/n]'s time here, Charlie notices that the older woman barely interacted with anyone and preferred to hide away from people.

A mischievous idea flashed into Charlie's mind, a subtle grin on her face before it returned to her usual gentle smile.

“I am sure that you're not used to eating with others so I thought that—,” Charlie pauses as she grabs two plates with one slice of apple pie each and hands them to the older woman, “You go and bring this plate of apple pie to my dad and spend time with him?” she suggested and [y/n] chokes on the water she was drinking.

“Huh?!” [y/n] says, a little embarrassed at the idea and Charlie giggles.

“Come on~! This is a perfect opportunity for you two to... I don't know...? Talk?” Charlie says awkwardly and [y/n] sighs softly, “I don't know Charlie... It feels weird.” she muttered and the smaller girl sighs.

These two are hopeless. Charlie thought to herself.

“Just deliver it. Please?” Charlie pleaded with big rounded eyes that the older woman cannot refuse. With a sigh of acceptance she just nodded, “Alright fine, but I'll be leaving immediately after giving it to him.” she says and left, holding two plates of apple slices in her hands.

Charlie pumps her hand in accomplishment. Playing cupid is fun.

Lucifer was inside his room doing paperwork when three distinct knocks were heard against the wooden door to his room. He looked up from the paper, the hand that was holding his pen stopping halfway through when he was signing his signature.

“Who is it?” Lucifer calls out, returning to work.

“It's me, [y/n]. I brought you something...” [y/n]'s voice can be heard behind the door, muffled but Lucifer can tell the slight nervousness of her voice. Lucifer was surprised to hear that she came to visit him. Flustered, he got up from his seat and made himself presentable. Calming his fast beating heart, he walked towards his door and opened it.

Only for something to be shoved into his hand, a plate of apple pie and a golden fork.

“Charlie asked me to give you this, so here you go and have a nice day.” [y/n] says, a little too fast that Lucifer was barely processing the words, “Okay, byee.” [y/n] says and began speed walking away from his room, turning around the corner and disappear.

“[y/n] wait...!” He calls out, hand extended as if trying to reach out to her but the woman had already left. He hesitantly lowered his hand sadly.

Lucifer blinks, the iconic frog blink. Looking down at the neatly cut apple pie served on a plate and a golden fork with it.

With a deep sigh and a determined look in his, he quickly followed her. Fuck this, I'm done running away from my problems and I am done with losing you.

[Y/n] closes the door behind her as she enters the roof of the building, her heart beating erratically from nervousness and running.

She gazed up, admiring the smokey red skies of hell. Sitting down on the floor and placing the plate of apple pie on the floor, taking out her phone and began scrolling while simultaneously eating. Finally calming down, Lucifer probably won't follow me here. Is what she thought.

(Loud incorrect buzzer)

She didn't notice the door to the roof opened ever so slowly, as she was immersed in scrolling her phone.

Lucifer was able to finally catch up to her, his eyes softening to see her sitting on the floor and scrolling through her phone as she ate. Slowly, he approached her and took a seat next to her which made [y/n] flinched in surprise.

“Lucifer?!” she says nervously and he quickly shushes her with his gloved hand, “Shh, let's just eat in peace.” he says softly, almost a whisper. He can tell that the girl is still nervous and he chuckles.

“Don't act like we didn't do this before.” he says softly with a smile and [y/n] scoffs lightly, “It... It was different.” she answers, her voice almost a whisper.

“Why would it be any different now?” he asked with a smile on his face and [y/n] wanted to answer but just sighs and decided to continue eating. Shutting off her phone. Lucifer smiled, clearly amused at her behavior. He too began to eat the delicious apple pie.

The two ate in silence and beside each other, Lucifer summoning his wings and using his wings to keep the girl warm.

This is progress.

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @khafskii @velvettenoctus @hello-imperson @lafy-taffy @cocomollo @samenene @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @lu-ferri12

[hyunsvngs]

hyunsvngbinimas!

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

warnings: chastity belt, dom!jeongin, innie is mean, degradation, oral (m rec), like one face slap, spit, maybe edging?, one use of ‘sir’, praise, squirting, unprotected sex

“Too tight, or is it okay?” Jeongin muses, ever the careful boyfriend. You shift from foot to foot in front of the mirror, rubbing your thighs together as much as you can despite your newly locked restraint. His fingers dip into the belt around your hips, pleasantly surprised to see that he can fit two fingers past the band. “Mm, it feels okay.”

“It’s- it’s fine, Jeongin,” You huff, a flush spreading from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears. Can’t he just try and push his fingers a little lower? He pulls your dress down then, rubbing a hand over where the red material of your Mrs. Claus themed dress stretches across your ass. The chastity belt is hidden underneath, the key sitting pretty on a chain around Jeongin’s neck.

It’s inconspicuous - it’s like you could pretend it’s not even there, if not for the dildo attached to the damn thing. Jeongin had spent days - no, weeks, picking out the perfect chastity belt for you. Tight enough that you couldn’t forget it was there, but loose enough for comfort, and with a ribbed dildo attached to rest inside of you and plug your pussy up all day. You were able to pee with it on, but not quite rub your clit on anything and reach orgasm - and Jeongin knew you couldn’t cum without that.

He comes up behind you as you fiddle with your hair in the mirror. All you see is a mop of unruly blonde and brown hair, and then you feel the press of lips at your neck. It would be reassuring if not for your current situation. “Twelve hours, jagi. You’ve got this.”

Right. Twelve hours. You had to wear this and feel the incessant pressing of the dildo inside you for twelve hours, and then he’ll let you cum when the clock strikes midnight and it’s officially Christmas Day.

You’re not sure you’re surviving it, in all honesty.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You managed to make it two hours before saying anything, which felt like an achievement. You and Jeongin went to a Christmas dinner with the boys, and it’s in the car that you feel your resolve withering. The dildo sits inside of you, wet and promising against your walls, but everytime you try to grind down on the sensation you’re met with metal preventing you from moving anywhere. You whine, knuckles going white where you’re gripping onto the passenger seat on your way home, and Jeongin only raises an eyebrow.

“It’s been two hours,” He hums, side eyeing your panting, heaving figure. Your cheeks are burning crimson, a bead of sweat pearling on your hairline. You wish he’d lick it off. “You have to keep it together. You still have ten hours to go.”

“Don’t remind me!” You wail, head lolling back against the headrest. The car ride is bumpy, and all you can imagine is Jeongin pulling over and taking you into the backseat, unlocking the stupid fucking belt and finally, finally pushing his cock into your slick hole. The thought has you whimpering, feet thrashing against the floor of the car in your tantrum. Jeongin huffs out a laugh.

“Be good,” He warns, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. You let yourself look at him, only a brief, fleeting glance, but it has your clit throbbing painfully. His Christmas jumper makes him look domestic, festive and sweet, and his jeans are tight on his long legs and thighs. You feel like you’re going to cry. You need him so bad. At a red light, he turns to you, tone soft, eyes anything but. “Jagiya. Be good, I believe in you.”

You blink back tears, shifting a little in your seat as if it’s going to provide you any form of relief. Jeongin swipes a thumb over your cheekbone with a soft grin, eyes forming crescent moons. It’s comforting. You nod hesitantly. “I can be good.”

“You can, and you will.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Six hours. Six hours and you’re sitting on the living room floor, now in your joggers and loose t-shirt wrapping some last minute presents. Jeongin’s mother’s gift from you both had only arrived today, so you sit fiddling with the wrapping paper and expensive perfume box, trying desperately not to think about how unbearably full you are. It’s not enough. It could never be enough. Your boyfriend’s so damn sadistic, so dirty, but you’re even worse for enjoying it so much.

You hear the sound of socked feet padding into the living room, and then a huff as Jeongin drops to the floor. He scoots forward, arms wrapped around your middle and head in the nape of your neck.

“Thanks for wrapping them,” He murmurs, fingernails dragging over your exposed arms. It makes you shiver, not going unnoticed by him. “I’m useless with wrapping gifts, jagi, you’re much better than me.”

“Yeah,” You muse, sticking another strip of tape over the golden paper. “You are useless with wrapping gifts. Remember our first year we were together, you wrapped my gift and forgot tape, and-”

“Shut up,” He whines, hiding his blushing face in your neck. It makes you giggle, and it’s so easy to be domestic and comfortable like this with your boyfriend, so easy to forget the fact that your pussy is still plugged up. A beat passes, and Jeongin inches forward, large hands moving up to underneath your breasts. Oh, no.

“Jeongin,” You warn, shifting on the floor. It doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t help.

“Ssh,” Jeongin mutters, and then his hands encompass your breasts. He grips so tightly that the flesh spills out between his fingers, pebbled nipples rubbing against the fabric of your shirt. You’re too sensitive. “You’re not even wearing a bra. You make it so easy for me. So willing for me to touch you even though you know you can’t cum.”

“Please-”

“Carry on wrapping, you’ve got more to do,” He cuts you off. You sigh, fiddling with the present to make it look like you’re actually doing something. His hands move to massage your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “I bet you’re feeling extra slutty for me right now. I bet that dildo is filling you up, but it’s not enough, is it? It’s not as big as me.”

Oh, fuck. Did he have to remind you? No, it’s not as big as him, it’s not as thick as him and it sure as hell can’t make you cum like he does, not when it’s just resting there.

“You’re doing so well,” He kisses your neck, flicks his tongue over your earlobe. You let yourself whine, head lolling back on his shoulder. “My pretty little slut. I can’t wait to have you squirting on my cock later, making a mess all over me.”

“Jeongin, please, I can’t-”

“Six hours, jagi. You’re halfway there,” Jeongin pecks the nape of your neck, and then he hops up, padding out of the room. You’re left with a heaving chest and extremely hard nipples, and a pussy so wet that you think the dildo would’ve slipped out if not for the chastity belt holding it in place. You hear him humming a song in the kitchen, and then he’s shouting for your attention. “Do you want a snack? I’m making one for myself.”

You’re gonna die.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s hard to lose yourself in the film Jeongin’s requested to watch with you. The throw blanket from the sofa is soft on your legs, now only clad in your underwear and your t-shirt. Jeongin’s broad chest is pressed against your back, chin hooked over the top of your head as you attempt to focus on the television. Jeongin’s ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing at the appropriate times, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he can���t pay attention either.

Ten hours. Two to go. It’s late now, the only lights in the room being from the Christmas tree and the television. It’s cozy. You hum in approval. If you really try to relax your walls around the dildo, it’s like it’s not there at all.

“He bought her a necklace!” Jeongin squeaks, distraught at the scene playing in front of you. What film is it again? Ah, Love Actually? He did indeed buy her that necklace, and it normally breaks your heart every time, but your vision is hazy. Two hours.

Jeongin shifts, pulling the blanket further over his back until his hips are pressed against your ass. You blink in surprise. He’s hard, but he seems to be ignoring it in favour of watching the film.

You can’t have that. You wiggle your hips under the guise of getting comfortable, and Jeongin’s breath halts.

“Watch the film, jagi,” His voice is stern, but you don’t miss how it’s slightly shaky. “I don’t want to leave that belt on you any longer than necessary.”

That stops you moving. You bite your lip, a shiver wracking through your whole body.

“Mm, actually… It sounds quite good, doesn’t it?” He sighs, his hand moving to your waist. One arm slinks under your head as a makeshift pillow, keeping you in place, and the other grips the flesh on your middle. With a soft noise, he’s grinding against your ass, thick and hard and making you wish he’d just fuck that hole instead. “Keeping you in this longer. You’re already so desperate. Maybe I could play around with you a bit more, try and push that wand vibrator you love so much against the belt to see if you can still cum. Would you?”

You huff in response, eyes watering, and Jeongin’s hand moves from your waist to your chin. He turns you to face him in a quick, tight movement, squishing your cheeks, and his foxlike eyes have never looked more intimidating.

“Would you? Would you cum for me, soak that metal with your cum and still beg for me to take it off after?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow in question, and you nod, trying not to buck your hips backwards into his. It’s a slow, sinuous grind, and you pray internally that he isn’t going to make himself cum like this. He taps your face teasingly, a light smack, and it makes you keen. He snickers, dropping your chin. “I knew you would. Slut.”

“I’m- I’m not a-“

“Oh, but you fucking are,” You let him manhandle you, pushing you down so you’re laying on your front. He humps into you quicker, cock slotting into your asscheeks even through the fabric. The movement has the dildo moving inside of you just a tad, and your hands grip the sofa, eyes rolling back with a desperate sound. “Two hours. It took you two hours to whine and throw a tantrum, and now you’ve got two hours left and you’re still whining. God, do you know how fucking hard that makes me?”

The dildo’s moving. It’s moving inside of you, just an inch, but you think you might cry. “Hnnnmfg, oh, oh, Jeongin-“

“No,” He flips off of you, ushers you onto your side once more and back into your spooning position. He’s kept his hips back, cock no longer pressing into you. It must be throbbing, aching with release, and the thought has you gushing even more around the dildo. “Watch the film. It gets even better.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Please! Please, please, Jeongin, Innie, baby, please-“

Jeongin’s got you fully naked on the bed, bare skin apart from the belt still locked around your hips. It hurts at this point with how much he’s been teasing you just from his mere existence, but you’ve got fifteen minutes left. It’s 11:45. Just another fifteen minutes.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, long fingers tracing over your thighs. He’s naked too, cock hanging heavy between his own lithe thighs and abs bared to the light from your bedside lamp. He looks downright erotic, blonde and black waves of hair obscuring his face but not able to hide the wet noises of his mouth on your tits. The key still sits securely on a chain around his neck, teasing, staring you dead in the eyes.

“Ssh,” He coos, blowing cold air over the pebbled bud. “Fifteen minutes, jagi. Let me play, yeah?”

You want to scream, thrash your legs and cry that you’ve been letting him play all damn day and it hurts now, but you know Jeongin. He’ll make good on his promise to leave you locked up for longer without even blinking an eye. He’s mean.

“Okay. Okay, okay, please, suck me harder. Innie, please,” You pant, chest heaving. Jeongin hums with a grin, satisfied, and he leans down to suckle on you once again. His mouth is so wet, so warm, and you think fleetingly that you could probably cum from this if he told you to. Your nipples are red and abused by now, but you still clutch the pillows beneath your head for dear life and hope that he’ll give your clit the same treatment.

He pops off the bud once again, and then he’s crawling up your body, firm biceps caging your head. His cock rests on the cursed chastity belt, and the coolness of the metal on his cockhead has him hissing.

“Baby,” Jeongin blinks down at the belt, a crooked smile on his lips. Oh, no. “You know, I could probably cum from humping against this. Spill my cum all over the belt and leave you there, crying, so all you can do is dip your fingers in and swallow my cum in the hopes that I’ll come back and give you more.”

“Please don’t,” You whine, shaking your head. Your eyes water with unshed tears, glassy, and you let out an incoherent noise when he humps against you once, twice, three times. Jeongin shushes you, thumb dipping over your wet bottom lip. You still continue, desperate. “Innie, Innie, no! I’ve been good, don’t do that, please, I couldn’t-“

“Okay, okay,” He chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. His digit pushes past your lips, and you suck on it diligently, blinking up at him with pure unadulterated need. “I won’t. Besides, you’ve got ten minutes now. I think I want you to suck my cock.”

You want that. Nothing’s ever sounded so good to your ears, and you nod eagerly, making him smile again. He flips you over, splaying back against the sheets and guiding you on top of him. It’s only after a chaste kiss to the lips does he push your head down, your mouth kissing down his milky skin obediently.

He’s wet, you realise, leaking precum on the trimmed hair at his base. You can’t even stare at his cock and just appreciate it, partially due to knowing that your pussy will just ache more and partially due to the fact that you have to have it in your mouth before you die from need.

“Deepthroat it for me,” Jeongin breathes, one arm behind his head. He’s the epitome of relaxation as you try to force your mouth down on him, tasting the leaking pearlescent cum on his cockhead and spreading it around. He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as his spare hand goes to your hair. “That’s it. Wetter, get it wetter.”

You try. You truly do try, but the only wetness right now is coming from your eyes as you cry. You want to spit on his cock, to get it wet and to make him approve of your actions, but your mouth is dry from pure want. You can’t wait to see how he’s going to fuck you after he unlocks your belt. It’s all you can think about.

His long fingers envelop in your hair, yanking your head off, and he sits up. You watch in awe as he spits on his own cock, pulling your head back and using his thumb to open your lips again. His cock is already slick with his spit, but he spits in your mouth anyway, before he’s pulling your mouth back to his cock.

“Ah, that’s better,” Jeongin hums, relaxing back against the sheets again. “Nice and wet. Will your pussy be wetter than this? I bet it will be, gushing on that tiny dildo all day. God, you’re such a whore for letting me do this.”

You whine around his shaft, bobbing your head as much as you can with the tight grip on your locks. He doesn’t let you breathe, hips starting to fuck sinuously into the tight heat you’ve provided him, and you feel jealous. How come he gets this, and you get nothing? You blink. It has to be five more minutes by now. Five minutes, and you can-

“Not long, baby,” He murmurs, licking his lips over and over. “Keep taking it for me. I’ll keep my cum for your little cunt, don’t worry.”

You’re squirming against the sheets, trying to create a semblance of what Jeongin did to you earlier for some friction on your core. He seems to let it slide despite looking down at you, balls slapping against your chin with every thrust into your throat. You’re gagging, drooling even more down his thick cock, and you let your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of being used like your boyfriend’s own personal fucktoy. It’s all you’d ever want for Christmas.

“Fucking hell,” He grunts, pulling your head off of him. You let him throw you back to the bed by your hair, and then he’s ripping the chain directly off of his neck and shoving the key in the padlock of your belt.

“Yes, yes, yes, please! Off, off, I need you,” Your voice is hoarse, gravelly from the rough treatment, and Jeongin nods with agreement. He knows. He’s not going to punish you for being desperate, and you don’t even know if it’s midnight, but he yanks the offending pleasure cage down your legs and throws it to the floor with a clatter. You can’t even mourn the loss of the dildo when you know you’re getting so much better.

You wail as he pumps his cock a few times, spreading the remaining slick up his length. His chest is heaving, eyes dark. “Legs up. Get those fucking legs up, show me your pussy, I need to be inside of you.”

You obey, hands sinking into the pits of your knees to bend yourself in half, and Jeongin surges forward. He positions his cockhead inbetween your folds, finding your drippy, needy hole. With a sigh, his cock slides inside of you, your walls wet and gummy and so easy to accept the intrusion. You moan so loud that you’re convinced that the world shakes.

“Ah, there we go,” Jeongin groans, and his hips are snapping into yours immediately. It feels so good that you begin to cry again, hands gripping onto your knees for dear life. “There’s that slutty little cunt. F-fuck, was it worth the wait? Does my cock feel good? Tell me, jagiya, tell me.”

“So good, ‘s good, so big, so thick, I’ll- hnnnfg, Jeongin, I need to cum, please!”

“You’re so good, baby,” He coos, cock punching against your g-spot. Touching your clit just once would have you cumming around him but something tells you Jeongin hasn’t got a lot left in him either. Sweat beads above his eyebrow, dripping down his temple. “Touch yourself. C’mon, s-show me how you touch that clit, fuck.”

You let one hand slide from your knee and Jeongin’s quick to press his chest against you firmer, keeping you bent in half. You take two fingers and press them between his lips, and he sucks on them, maintaining eye contact during it. It’s the dirtiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you have to reach down and blindly find your clit, swollen and aching and peeking through your pliant folds.

The first pressing of your fingers makes you near-scream, toes curling, and Jeongin grips your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are hazy, unfocused and glassy, and you rub and rub and rub until you think you’re going to ascend.

“There she is, look at you,” Jeongin grunts, voice shaking. He fucks into your pussy over and over, wet slapping noises overtaking your senses. “Cum for me. Good fucking girl, my perfect slut, cum for me.”

You whine, legs shaking, and then you’re cumming. Your pussy gushes so hard Jeongin has to pull out, and he instantly hooks two long fingers inside of your hole with a loud groan of his own to crook them up against your g-spot. Your pussy only gushes more, your ears ringing with the force of your orgasm, drool dribbling out of your lips. You continue to rub your clit, spraying cum over your lover, and as soon as the last dribble leaves your messy cunt Jeongin’s sinking right back into home.

“Gonna make me cum,” He warns, shaking his head in disbelief. His hair sticks to his forehead, damp from sweat. “Squirted so fucking much, baby, dirty little slut, so horny from me locking that clit up, I’ll- god, I’m gonna cum inside of you.”

“Please,” You slur, hand resting on your clit with no movement. “Fill me up, sir, please.”

Jeongin groans, loud and steady into the expanse of your room, and then his hips stall. They shake with the intensity of his orgasm, his cock pulsing hot white into your pussy until it’s gushing out around his cock. You feel drunk with it, eyes rolling back into your head as he continues to make noise, riding out the pleasure.

You do really feel like you’ve ascended. You barely notice when Jeongin gets up and wipes you with a warm towel, humming the tune to another Christmas song, and you barely notice when he slides back onto the dirty sheets and pulls you into his chest. It’s only when you realise he’s talking do you blink back into reality.

“The necklace, jagi,” He huffs, and you furrow your eyebrows. He’s still thinking about that film. “Not even for his own wife. Like-“

“Jeongin, you just fucked my brains out and you’re still on about Love Actually.”

Jeongin goes quiet, and then he laughs, kissing your forehead. “Sorry. I doubt you paid attention though, so we’ll watch it again tomorrow. Merry Christmas. I love you more than anything.”

“Merry Christmas, I love you more than anything,” You slur back, eyes already heavy with sleep. Jeongin’s laughing again, you note, but you’re already curling up and falling asleep.

He’ll have to deal with the two of you not changing the sheets later, but you’ll have presents to open first.

[peachdues]

Tell Me to Stop: Part 2 (NSFW Kyojuro Rengoku x F!Ice Pillar)

A/N: oh man, it’s here. This took a lot out of me, so I hope that you all like it.

Part One can be found here: post-Mugen AU where Kyojuro lives; events take place post-Entertainment District.

Multiple POVs (Y/N, Shinobu, and Kyojuro). There are several flashbacks, which are in all italics and separated from the main text.

Massive TW: trauma/PTSD, anger, nightmares, descriptions of corpses, violence and violence between characters (shoving, grabbing/shaking). One character triggers another and it’s dubious whether it’s intentional or not.

CW: 16.7k words; explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex/oral (F!receiving), creampies, cursing, light scar worship, intimacy, angst.

For the song that inspired this, listen here.

Without further ado!

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N began her rehabilitation training within one week of awakening from her coma.

For those seven days of rest, Y/N had fielded all sorts of visitors — the Master, escorted by his two daughters; the Love Pillar, who had wasted no time throwing her arms around Y/N’s shoulders and sobbing in relief; and three of the Mansion’s youngest girls, all of whom crawled up on her bed and cried while hugging her.

Uzui had sent her a note by crow telling her he would be by to see her as soon as his wives finished making her favorite treat — red bean mochi — and said they could compare battle wounds in celebration of their feat.

Y/N had neither seen nor heard as much of a whisper from the Flame Pillar.

The Ice Pillar resolved to distract herself from the glaring absence of the man who embodied fire, though every day that passed without word from him only seemed to make that absence more pronounced.

Y/N had thrown herself into her rehabilitation training, as supervised by Shinobu. Because she was a Hashira, her recovery was vastly different from that of lower-ranked slayers, and she worked with the Insect Pillar directly, rather than with the haughty Aoi and other younger Mansion girls.

That particular morning, the Love Pillar had joined them in an effort to recuperate Y/N’s loss of flexibility as the result of the nearly two months she’d spent sedentary. Y/N cherished the one-on-one time she had with the other two women Hashira; the three of them had formed a tight bond with one another since ascending as Pillars, united amidst the predominance of male demon slayers.  

“Good! Now just bend this way-“ Mitsuri Kanroji kept a steady hand at the small of Y/N’s back as Y/N arched over backward, teeth grinding as her stiff spine resisted her movement.

“Almost there! Just touch your other hand to the floor and hold it!” The Love Hashira said encouragingly.

Y/N stretched her left arm over her head as hard as she could. Her fingers had just graced the wooden grain of the training room floor when her body seized, and her legs gave out from under her.

“Oh!” Mitsuri caught Y/N effortlessly before she could crumple to the floor, gently helping her to sit while blushing at the stream of colorful curses that poured from the Ice Pillar’s mouth.  

“This damn wound,” Y/N moaned, her hand pressing against the angry red mark that curved from below her belly button to her right hip. “You would think it would have healed by now.”

Shinobu frowned as she crouched next to the Ice Pillar, fingers lightly prodding at the scar left behind by Upper Moon Six. “It has healed; if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t have scarred already.” Shinobu pursed her lips. “Though, I suppose it could just be a residual effect of the Upper Rank’s blood demon art – after all, it was no ordinary blade that he pierced you with, was it?”

Y/N shook her head, though she tried to suppress the memory of the demon’s cursed flesh blade ramming through her back and into her stomach. “The blade was his conduit for his blood demon art – but I think it was made from him.”

“How often does it hurt, Y/N?” Mitsuri asked, rubbing soothing circles on her friend’s upper back. Mitsuri was one of the few people Y/N knew who preferred to give physical comfort, and Y/N was grateful for it.

Y/N furrowed her brows in thought. “In a way, there’s always just this dull ache I feel, though it becomes sharper whenever I move a particular way.” Y/N pulled at the band of her uniform bottoms in discomfort. “And, it doesn’t help that these damn pants chafe and rub against it. I’ve even foregone the belt, and it still feels like they’re cutting into me.”

Mitsuri hummed in thought. “Have you considered one of the uniform skirts? They sit a little higher on the waist, so they’re less likely to aggravate it.”

Y/N scowled. “I would rather be stabbed by Upper Six again than request a skirt from that pervert tailor,” she said severely, “Sorry,” she added when she saw the Love Pillar flush with embarrassment.

“Lecherous Corps tailors aside, you may have a good point, Mitsuri.” Shinobu said, eyeing Y/N’s uniform pants in thought. “Y/N, do you mind if I brainstorm some designs for you? I can’t promise whatever I come up with will be suitable for public appearances or assignments, but I might be able to come up with something that will at least keep you comfortable while you heal and build back your strength.”

Y/N smiled as she stretched her legs out, bringing herself into a pose meant to flex her hips. “I’d be grateful for anything you could do, Shinobu.”

The Insect Pillar nodded. “Mitsuri, you know how to sew quite well, do you not? I’m afraid my proficiency with the needle is limited to sewing up wounds.”

The pinkette glowed with enthusiasm. “Yes! I have an entire room dedicated to sewing at my Estate – if you bring by your designs, I’m sure I could put something together!”

Shinobu smiled. “Then it’s settled. I’ll see what I can come up with tonight, and I’ll bring it by in the morning.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the dedication her two friends showed towards her comfort and recovery. “Thank you both, from the bottom of my heart.”

Shinobu’s smile turned wicked. “Don’t thank us yet, Y/N. You have agility training next.”

Y/N groaned and pulled on her uniform top, buttoning it over her bindings. As a Hashira, agility training meant that she was to meet the Wind Pillar outside of Kocho’s estate where she would endure two hours of having to dodge his relentless attacks. Y/N got along just fine with Shinazugawa – he’d even welcomed her back, and gruffly complimented her work in the Entertainment District – but that did not mean he eased up in his ruthless training.  

By the time the Wind Pillar had dismissed her with a satisfied nod, Y/N had all but limped back to her room, wondering whether she could even summon the strength to bathe after such an arduous day. She almost decided against it, but when her newest scar began to pulse and throb once more, she knew nothing else would soothe it better than the hot water in Kocho’s private hot spring.

Y/N greeted the bowing Kakushi who guarded the entrance to the northernmost wing of the Butterfly Mansion’s hospital as she passed by, and she hoped that Aoi had remembered to restock her room with fresh towels so she could go straight to her bath from her room.

She drew short at the sight of a familiar figure which stood outside of Kocho’s office, leaning against the wall of the small hallway.

“Rengoku!” Y/N was startled, taking a step back in surprise at the sight of the Flame Pillar.

“Y/L/N.” The man who reminded her of the sun nodded in greeting, but his familiar, sunny disposition was noticeably absent, his face impassive and his voice detached.

“I am happy to see you in good health.” Rengoku spoke with unnatural formality; he’d never used that cold, detached manner of speaking to her, not once since she’d caught him staring at her right before the commencement of Final Selection all those years ago.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Ice Pillar Y/L/N!” His sunny voice boomed, and Y/N groaned. She’d just gotten her migraine to calm down.

“Rengoku,” she nodded politely, as her comrade came to stand beside her, all smiles and warmth. 

“It’s been a while, Y/L/N! I was beginning to forget what you look like when you roll your eyes at me.” He laughed, and Y/N scowled.

“Perhaps I’ll pay to have my photograph taken, Rengoku. That way, you can carry it with you wherever you go.”

Rengoku turned to her, an eyebrow raised in surprise at her willingness to engage with his banter so quickly. “If that’s the case, Y/N, I’d prefer to have one of you smiling. It would do well to keep me warm on those cold nights away from home.”

--------------------------------------------------------

“I heard you were called away on another mission— some train?” Y/N asked him as they strolled through the Master’s garden following their meeting.

“Yes, we’ve unfortunately lost a number of slayers. Perhaps it’s an upper rank!” The Flame Pillar responded jovially, but he stopped in front of Y/N when he saw her frown.

“What is it?” His voice was gentle, and Y/N shook her head, focusing her eyes on the blooming wisteria saplings that had been planted.

A warm finger curled under her chin and tilted her face up until her eyes clashed with pools of golden ore. “My dear Ice Pillar, are you worried for me?” He was smirking, and his thumb lightly caressed the underside of her jaw.

Y/N gingerly took his hand and removed it from her face, though she did not let it go right away. “You are the Flame Hashira, Rengoku. If anyone is capable of defeating an Upper Rank, it most certainly is you.” 

Rengoku smiled broadly at her, his hand nearly grazing her own. “For someone whose prowess lies in ice breathing, Y/L/N, you sure know how to start fires.”

Under any other circumstance, she would have changed the subject, or not said anything at all. But Y/N couldn’t help her sudden desire to flirt back, just to see if she could knock him off his feet as he so often tried to do to her.

“Yours is the only one I’m interested in stoking, Rengoku.” She said sweetly.

She’d laughed at the Flame Pillar’s beet-red face for the rest of the day.

------------------------------------------------------

“And I, you.” Y/N responded, her eyes still wide with surprise as she came to a stop before him, maintaining a cautious distance between them.

A pregnant pause followed, and Y/N made to speak once more, but she was cut off by another deep throb from the wound on her lower abdomen, her hand unconsciously flying to press against it as she swallowed the gasp that threatened to leave her.   

“You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question.

Y/N shrugged in a feeble attempt at nonchalance. “I suppose it’s to be expected for a while yet. At least until I recover.”

Rengoku said nothing, and the silence felt suffocating.

“Would you-“ Y/N hesitated, and inwardly she’d never felt more embarrassed, or more uncertain than she did then as she stood before the uncharacteristically stoic Flame Pillar. “Would you like to sit down?”

Rengoku’s face remained impassive, and he turned away from her, dismissively.

“I cannot. I came only to retrieve a salve from Kocho.” His voice was just as cold, just as unfamiliar as the rest of him had been.

“Rengoku, is everything all right?” She stretched out a hand to touch his shoulder but was alarmed at how quickly he flinched away from her as if her touch could burn him.

“Everything is fine, Y/L/N. I need to be on my way.” Rengoku’s voice was flat, monotone, and wholly foreign to her.

“I’m sorry for not thanking you sooner — for everything you did to help me that night.” Y/N blurted, and to her relief, Rengoku froze mid-step, though he did not turn towards her. “I owe you my life.”

She did not miss the way Rengoku’s fists clenched at his side. “You owe me nothing. I would have done the same for any other comrade.” He replied, voice tight. “I must get going now. Farewell, Y/L/N.

She was so stunned that she’d not bidden him farewell back. Rather, she’d stood helplessly in her doorway, even long after the edge of his haori had disappeared around the corner of the Butterfly Mansion’s hall.

He had not looked at her once.

-------------------------------------------------------

(Kyojuro’s POV)

Kyojuro’s fists remained clenched the entire journey back to his estate.

He felt disgusted with himself. He felt like a coward.

It had nearly knocked him to his knees to see Y/L/N up and standing and talking because for so long, he had feared he would never again see the way she crinkled her nose when she laughed, or how she tucked that one loose strand of hair behind her ear whenever she was concentrating — the one that never stayed put in her braid.

But he had not been able to meet her eyes; couldn’t bear to bring himself to try, because he had been terrified of what he would see.

-------------------------------------------------------

Every night for the last two months, he has dreamed of her.

They were not pretty dreams, not like those he had before when he’d wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she laughed, the two of them living in a monster-free world and at peace.

Now, he dreamt of vacant eyes-tinged blue, unseeing and unblinking and frozen, just like the rest of her. He dreams of iced skin and blood and poison pouring from her mouth and her nose until she chokes, her chest rising once with a final rattle before it falls still.

He dreams of Upper Three, smiling deviously as he aims his fist to deal his final blow, and Kyojuro wrenches his blade down, desperate to finally win.

Only, his blade decapitates Y/N, not the Upper Rank demon and he is helpless to watch her head bounce pathetically to the ground. His hands are covered in her blood, and instead of disintegrating, her body falls uselessly to the side. Human.

As quickly as he kills her, the dream changes. He is in a lively street, filled to the brim with street vendors and women and men offering their services. It is night but the lights of the shops and gambling dens and pleasure houses are so bright that it looks like daytime.

He recognizes her by the back of her haori, and his feet move towards her, relieved to see her amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. He reaches out to touch her shoulder, her name whispering on his lips. But she turns before he can make contact, and though she looks healthy, her eyes — her eyes are white and unseeing.

I don’t understand, she pleads with him, it doesn’t make sense.

Kyojuro looks around in alarm and they are no longer standing amongst eager entertainment seekers, but among flame and wreckage, the once-ornately decorated stalls now smashed to splinters as fire slowly consumes the skeletal remains of the entertainment district.

He turns back to her right as a blade pierces through her gut, lifting her from the ground before letting her drop.

His hands shake as he reaches for her, desperate to check her wounds, but when she looks up at him, he stumbles back.

She is all wrong. Her skin is mottled and rotting from her face, and her hair is gray and matted. In place of her eyes are black holes, empty and cold.

Why can’t I come with you? Why can’t I go home, Kyojuro?

Please take me home.

Every night for the last two months, he awoke screaming.

------------------------------------------------------

Y/L/N was alive; he knew that. He knew that if he looked at her, he would not see a corpse; but terrifying visuals aside, Kyojuro had not been able to look at her because he knew what his nightmares were telling him.

He’d been responsible for her near death.

If the Kakushi had returned with a box rather than a Pillar, it would have been his fault.

The thought that Y/L/N — his Y/L/N -- had almost obtained her own headstone in the Master’s graveyard had rocked him to his very core, for that had almost become a reality. She had actually died – for the briefest moment – in his arms; and it had been his fault.

Why can't I go home, Kyojuro?

And though Y/N had awoken from her slumber, her corpse still haunted Kyojuro’s dreams.

--------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N was sprawled on her infirmary floor, preparing her limbs for another day of rigorous recuperation training at the hands of her fellow Hashira.

She stood to stretch her arms and lower back, wincing slightly at the pull of her scar. “Don’t you start,” she warned her body, willing total concentration breathing to dull the persistent ache that threatened to derail her entire day.

Y/N sensed movement near her doorway and knew, without looking, who watched her as she warmed up her aching muscles.

“Uzui retired. It’s time for you to do the same.”

Y/N who had been in mid-stretch, righted herself and blinked at the Flame Pillar. “Pardon?” Both the news of Uzui’s retirement and Rengoku’s words were a shock to her.

“Retire, Y/LN.” Rengoku repeated in that detached manner of his that she hardly recognized. “You helped take down an Upper Rank. You’ve done enough. Let someone else shoulder the burden, now.”

“I see no reason to retire, Rengoku.” Y/N retorted, voice hardening. “And unless and until the Master requests it or I perish, I see no reason to do so.”

Rengoku exhaled harshly through his nose. “You were injured — seriously so.”

“As were you, and yet you seem to have no intention of slowing down.” Y/N said, coolly.

Rengoku’s attention stayed fixed on the garden outside her window. “And I was only unconscious for three weeks. You were out for nearly two months, Y/L/N. That is unheard of and frankly, unacceptable for a Hashira.”

“What is your problem?” Y/N was growing more irritated the longer this inane conversation dragged on, and it wasn’t helping that Rengoku still refused to so much as look her direction, let alone meet her eyes. “Is this about what happened after you brought me here? Kocho told me everything — I’m not mad.”

Rengoku’s shoulders tensed. “It was necessary. Again, I would have done it for any one of my comrades.”

Y/N felt like she’d been slapped.

“You keep saying that, yet you won’t look at me— why?” Her confusion and hurt were beginning to melt into anger. “If I am just another comrade, then you should be able to meet my eyes.”

Rengoku said nothing.

“What Uzui did for me— that was what comrades do,” Y/N continued, her voice growing stronger as her blood grew hotter. “But you? You and I both know you were under no obligation to bring me back from the brink of death the way you did.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Y/L/N,” Rengoku answered after a long moment.

Y/N took a step towards him. “I want to know why.”

“It was necessary.”

Y/N felt like throttling him.

How long had they danced around each other? How many times had they caught themselves staring at the other for a breath longer than normal, had allowed an otherwise friendly touch during a spar linger?

How could he have held her, half nude for hours, putting himself on the brink of death all for the sake of keeping her alive — and then tell her she was the same as any other comrade?

“What are we doing Rengoku -- is this to be our destiny?” Y/N demanded, exasperatedly, her voice hard. “We continue to pretend like we don’t care about one another until one of us dies?”

Rengoku remained silent, back still turned away from her.

“We’ve each had a near-death experience in a matter of months,” Y/N continued, throat working hard to keep her voice steady despite the telling burn of angry tears in her eyes. “By all accounts, one if not both of us should be dead.”

“And yet, somehow, you expect me to act as though the fact you carried me back here— that you put yourself on death’s door to keep my heart beating — doesn’t mean anything?”

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense for him to fight so hard for her, to make her believe that someone valued her life that much, only to cast her aside.

She hadn’t wanted to wake up, initially; she’d felt relief for the hair’s breadth she’d thought she’d finally met her end. He was the one who dragged her back, and now he wouldn’t even look at her.

It didn’t make sense.

Y/N’s fists shook beside her, and she felt the venomous words fly from her mouth before she could stop them.

“You should’ve let me die.”

No sooner had she let the poison drip from her mouth had she felt herself flying backward, back slamming against the nearest wall of her temporary room.

“Never,” Rengoku snarled at her, his arm pressing firmly against her shoulders to hold her in place against the wood. “Never say those words to me again.”

Y/N’s chest was heaving, and she trembled beneath him, her fury threatening to explode out of her.

“There is no place on this earth where you could be in peril and I would not find you,” he said quietly, his eyes a simmering, fiery orange. “Where I wouldn’t find a way to bring you back home.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Y/N said softly, breath still coming hard from her nose but no longer from her anger.

“Doesn’t it?” Rengoku was close, dangerously close.

Y/N wanted nothing more than to lean in, to close the distance that barely existed between Rengoku’s face and hers and finally be done with all the nonsense. But he had spent so much time avoiding her gaze until that moment, and Y/N felt more lost than ever, set adrift by the look of heat and longing that was mixed with the burning rage in his eyes.

Something tugged incessantly at her gut and it would not allow her to move from her place against her recovery room’s wall.

Instead, her arms came up to rest against Rengoku’s chest before gently, but firmly, pushing him away.

“No, it doesn’t.” She repeated. “And I am tired, Rengoku.”

The Flame Pillar allowed himself to be pushed away, but he looked at her with a small, cruel smile.

“Then you’re right; it doesn’t mean anything at all.”

She flinched against the ugly slap of his words. Y/N had expected him to hit back, but she hadn’t anticipated his venom to sting as much as it did.

She felt all of the fight within her gutter out, leaving her with nothing but a heavy weight in her chest that she wished she couldn’t feel.

“Y/L/N, I-“ the Flame Pillar almost sounded remorseful.

“Thank you, for your clarification, Lord Rengoku,” she said numbly, formally, parroting his earlier tone with her. “And thank you for your assistance that night. Please, next time — don’t trouble yourself.”

Rengoku hesitated for a moment, his hand twitching as though he wanted to reach for her. He swallowed hard, and turned away, shutting the door to Y/N’s infirmary.

The moment the door at clicked shut, Y/N exhaled harshly, stumbling back against her bed as she hugged her arms around herself, and she tried to keep herself from falling apart.

It shouldn’t have hurt this bad. They were both in the Demon Slayer Corps; they saved strangers all the time without it ever meaning anything other than good will and a desire to exterminate all demons.

So why did his insistence that she was no different hurt so badly?

Because she wasn’t a stranger.

Because, while she’d always known she wasn’t his, she’d still thought she’d been something.

As Y/N curled against her blanket, an unsettling numbness began to spread from her heart, quieting even the dull ache from the scar across her belly, Y/N realized that she’d meant nothing to the Flame Pillar all along.

-------------------------------------------------------

(Kyojuro’s POV)

He hated himself.

He utterly and truly despised himself.

He’d been hurt by her insistence that she did not know his feelings even though he was the one who’d opened the door, yet somehow, it still felt like a rejection.

So he’d hit back, only for her to visibly recoil at the sharp blow of his words.

He would not forgive himself, for as long as he lived, for the way the light in her eyes had winked out.

He did not know what bothered him more: the fact that she’d assumed that he regretted keeping her alive, or that she’d said “next time” he needn’t bother. As though she were counting on there being a next time.

He knew he should turn around; knew that he should barge back into her hospital room, drop to his knees, and beg her to forgive his cruelty.

He knew that he should explain to her why he found it so difficult to admit his feelings for her — that he had watched his father turn into a shell of a man and abandon his children in the wake of their mother’s death, leaving them to raise themselves. That he had vowed, as he’d watched his father drink his days away, that he would never be like him, would never abandon those who relied on him most.

He’d promised that he would never be a coward, even if, in all honesty, the idea that he, Kyojuro, could ever love someone that fiercely only to have them ripped from his grasp terrified him to no end.

As he forced his legs to carry him to back to his estate, Kyojuro wondered if perhaps, in his desperation not to turn into his father, he’d become the old man after all.

--------------------------------------------------------

(Shinobu’s POV)

Shinobu felt the Flame Pillar’s presence in her office before she saw him, though she was in no rush to give him his salve, especially not after what she’d overheard him spit at her friend.

“If you do not mind, I would like to send my crow to collect this from here on,” Rengoku said tightly, and Shinobu could sense his failing attempt to keep his fury in check.

“Very well then,” the Insect Pillar responded just as tersely, turning away from the papers and books on her desk to pull out the small tin containing the salve the Flame Pillar used to soothe the ache of the scar he now bore across his pectoral and shoulder. Rather than handing it to him, she tossed it through the air, the Flame Hashira catching it swiftly in his hand.

Rengoku nodded his thanks and turned to leave.

“I didn’t realize it was against Corps’ rules to care about our comrades,” Shinobu said icily, if not to signal to him that there had been spectators to his ugly outburst.

He couldn’t resist taking her bait. “Maybe it should be. It would be easier that way — for everyone.”

“Is that so?” Kocho sneered, no hint of familiarity or kindness in her features; nothing but that poisonous, deadly smile. “Well, if that was the case, then you would’ve preferred Uzui to leave Y/L/N for dead among the rubble in Yoshiwara, correct?

“You would rather us be searching to fill the newest Hashira vacancy, with her corpse barely cold in the ground-“

“Do not say another word, Kocho.” Rengoku warned, quietly.

But for Shinobu, anger was her vice, and so his warning only spurred her on.

“Tell me, Rengoku, if the new Pillar had been a woman, would you have held her the way you held Y/N?”

Shinobu’s smile was chilling as she relished the way the Flame Pillar began to tremble. “Or perhaps, would you finally confess to her, having learned your lesson from the missed opportunity with Y/N? Would you live out your days with her, while Y/N rotted below the earth, having never known someone loved her?”

“ENOUGH.” Rengoku roared, and for a moment, Shinobu thought the Flame Pillar might put his clenched fist through her wall. The silence that followed was tense and long as Rengoku struggled to calm his breathing.

“What do you want from me, Kocho?” Rengoku finally snapped, wheeling around to glower at the Insect Pillar, eyes half-crazed in his frustration.

------------------------------------------------------

(Two months earlier)

Dawn was still far off, but the hall of her estate was a mess.

Shinobu knew that at any moment, another group of Kakushi would be coming through the hole Rengoku had left in her wall bearing the unconscious body of the Sound Pillar, and if they did so, they’d be stumbling upon the chaotic scene that had unfolded before.

Rengoku was still on the floor, legs on either side of Y/N, who was slumped against his chest and fully exposed from the waist up.

With some satisfaction, Shinobu noted that the dark purple bruising around Y/N’s chest was clearing, a sure sign that she had chosen the correct antidote for the Flame Hashira to slam into her heart.

But her hypothermia persisted.

Rengoku, on the other hand, was beginning to breathe rather loudly, no doubt as he continued to maintain his high fever for the sake of the unmoving woman braced between his thighs.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu crouched down next to the Flame Pillar, her hand coming to a rest on his shoulder, which burned beneath her palm. “Rengoku, we need to move.”

The man lifted his head up to meet her eyes, his own glassy and unfocused. Shinobu clamped down on the swear building on her tongue — he had fever fog.

Rengoku grunted at her before his head slumped back down, chin nearly touching his chest.

Shinobu tried again. “Rengoku, we are in the open hallway of the Butterfly Mansion. Others will be arriving soon. Y/N is completed exposed.”

That seemed to get his attention. Rengoku’s head lifted, his eyes narrowed slits, but nonetheless open. He grunted in some sort of acknowledgement and began to shift Y/N in his lap.

He turned the unconscious Ice Pillar so that her back rested against one arm that curled around her bare waist. His free arm slid to grip beneath her knees, shifting her into a bridal-style position to carry her.

Two of the Butterfly Mansion’s staff moved to help him stand, but Rengoku shrugged them off, surprising Shinobu as he managed to rise steadily to his feet, Y/N secured against his chest.

He looked at Shinobu expectantly and she began ushering him towards a secluded wing of the Manor, towards her private hall. Across from her personal office was a special infirmary room, walled off from the rest of the recovery ward.

Shinobu withdrew a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked the heavy, wooden door.

“You two can stay in here until her body temperature returns to normal,” She said, as Rengoku made his way towards the recovery bed.

Shinobu watched as Rengoku, still wearing his zori and uniform pants, ever so gently lowered himself and Y/N down on the bed, repeating his earlier positioning of her between his thighs. He propped up one leg slightly to keep the Ice Pillar from slumping over, her back pressed to his bare chest. Rengoku leaned against the headboard so that Y/N’s head could rest against his clavicle, though it slumped instead towards her left shoulder.

Shinobu made to grab a blanket to throw over the two topless Hashira but stopped short as Rengoku made to move again.

He seemed to realize that Y/N, while also still in her torn uniform pants and zori, was still bare from the waist up, her body positioned towards the door. He frowned, his hand coming up to graze the side of her arm. He flinched slightly, no doubt at the persistent chill that lingered on her skin, and he moved both of his large hands down over the back of hers as they lay limply on either side of her thighs, intertwining their fingers.

Awestruck, Shinobu watched as Rengoku brought Y/N’s arms up to cross them over her chest, locking them in place by covering her arms with his own, as though wrapping her in a sweet embrace. Shinobu knew that he’d done so to avoid touching her bare breasts himself, or at least to do so as minimally as possible, while still providing her cover. And, due to the breadth of Rengoku’s muscled forearms, Y/N’s sensitive area was almost entirely obscured from view.

Rengoku had barely been clinging to consciousness himself, and once she was sufficiently hidden in his arms, his head dropped forward until his forehead came to a rest on Y/N’s shoulder, opposite of where she’d rolled her head.

To the unassuming eye, it would have appeared as though the pair of Hashira were simply engaged in an intimate moment, rather than one desperately trying to anchor the other to life.

Shinobu moved to place the blanket over the Pillars’ laps, before quietly exiting the private room.

“Seal this wing off entirely,” she murmured to Aoi, who had been waiting dutifully outside. “No one comes down here without my explicit permission.”

Aoi bowed to her before she ushered the other Kakushi out. Faintly, Shinobu heard the arriving shouts of the group bearing the Sound Pillar. She took a single deep breath, steeling herself once more, before moving to check on her incoming patient.

-------------------------------------------------------

Shinobu raised her chin, looking down her nose at him in disgust. “I’m waiting for the man who would have set the world ablaze to save Y/N to reappear.”

She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m waiting for the man who used his own body as her lifeline, and who tried to smash open the infirmary door when he was delirious with fever because he thought that she had died while he was asleep.”

The Insect Pillar’s masked smile finally slipped from her face and her true rage towards the Flame Pillar shone through. “It is cruel to make her feel as though she’s done something wrong,” Shinobu’s arms folded across her chest. “And it is cruel to you both for you to pretend as though she does not mean anything to you. Haven’t you both been through enough? Are you not exhausted as well?”

A tortured look passed over Rengoku’s face. “It is better this way, Kocho. I do not want to be the cause of her pain, and I cannot survive going through what happened to her again.

“For all your talk about either of you dying, I’ve yet to hear you mention the equal alternative,” Shinobu sighed, gathering her papers and books. “The one where we win and you both live. What do you suppose happens then?”

Rengoku said nothing and so, Shinobu continued. “Suppose we emerge victorious – would you truly prefer for you and Y/N to go your separate ways – to never see one another again, or never acknowledge the bond the two of you share?”

“There is no guarantee that either of us survives, Kocho,” Rengoku said quietly, his eyes falling to his feet.

Shinobu smiled but it was no longer cruel or bitter; it was wistful. “And there is no guarantee that either of you die. That’s the fickle nature of humanity, is it not? The very reason we fight?”

The Insect Pillar gathered her papers and stacked them neatly on her shelf. “For the possibilities of it all.”

--------------------------------------------------------

The sun was high in the sky by the time Shinobu had a moment to check on the two unconscious pillars in the back room.

Uzui had required quite a bit of attention in order to stop the poison from becoming deadly, though the fact that her combination of the wisteria antidote with the amphetamine had been so effective on Y/N meant that Shinobu was able to administer the same to the Sound Pillar in half the time.

She was exhausted; the strain of the night’s events weighed heavily on her, but she had to check on Y/N’s temperature — if the Ice Pillar still had not recovered, she feared that hope was lost.

She pushed the door to the private infirmary room open and saw the two Hashira, still in the same position she’d left them in. Rengoku was deeply asleep, no doubt from the exhaustion wrought by his high fever.

Enclosed within his arms, Y/N remained unconscious but pink.

Shinobu felt the relief course through her, but she did not allow herself to relax until she reached out a hand to lightly pinch the Ice Pillar’s cheek.

It bloomed red beneath her fingers, and it was warm to the touch.

He’d done it. The Flame Pillar had staved off her hypothermia. Their only obstacle now lay in getting her to reawaken.

Shinobu laid her hand across Rengoku’s forehead, frowning at the scorching heat of his brow; his fever had worsened more than she’d anticipated, and he would need intervention soon. She turned to nod at the Kakushi who waited by the door to the recovery room, and the three of them moved to separate the Flame and Ice Pillars.

“Put him in one of the other single-recovery rooms. Tell Aoi to administer the fever medication I keep in my cabinet – it should dispel his fever within a few hours.” Shinobu ordered, as the Kakushi, with great effort, lifted the Flame Pillar from his position behind Y/N. Shinobu gently eased her friend down against the bed and pulled a blanket over her exposed torso. “I will also need a fresh hospital gown for Lady Y/L/N.”

The Kakushi nodded their assent and got to work, heaving the unconscious Flame Pillar towards the door when he awoke. At first, his eyes were dazed, and confused as they darted around him, but as he took in his surroundings, he began to struggle against the grip of the Kakushi.

“Please, Lord Rengoku, your fever is dangerously high! Allow us to help!” One of them cried, though his efforts to tug the Pillar away were futile. Shinobu supposed the only reason he had not yet succeeded in completely throwing them off was the fact that his fever had severely weakened him.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu said sternly, coming around from her position by Y/N to meet his eyes, though he only thrashed harder against the Kakushi as he began to mutter incoherently under his breath. “Rengoku, that’s enough. You’re safe. You’re in the Butterfly Mansion, and you have a high fever. Please, let the Kakushi do their job.”

But the Insect Pillar’s words fell on deaf ears as Rengoku began to hyperventilate, his muscles straining as he tried desperately to break free from the Kakushi’s hold. Shinobu was at a loss; her comrade did not merely look frantic – he looked terrified, desperate, and utterly beyond reproach or reason. His heart rate had spiked considerably, and his breath was jerky and uneven, as though he could not fully understand where he was or that he was amongst friends.

As she strained to make out what the Flame Pillar repeated, over and over, under his breath, Shinobu realized that his eyes were not unfocused at all; they were locked on the unconscious Ice Pillar in the bed behind her.

“I can still save her!” he roared.

It all made sense then.

Shinobu realized that he thought they were moving him not because he’d successfully thwarted her hypothermia, but because he had failed — and that she was now dead.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu said sharply, trying to force the irate and delirious Flame Pillar to meet her eyes. “Rengoku, Y/N is alive. Her body temperature has returned to normal. She is safe.”

But the Flame Pillar seemed not to hear her, as he only struggled harder against the Kakushi desperately trying to usher him out of Y/N’s room.

Rengoku was becoming more violent, even as the Kakushi finally managed to shove him through the doorway of Y/N’s room. Just before they’d managed to slam the door shut, Shinobu caught Aoi’s eye and nodded, the younger girl quickly disappeared into the Pillar’s office.

Shinobu watched in stunned silence as the Flame Pillar broke free from the Kakushi and began hurtling his body against the door, Y/N’s name falling from his lips in an anguished chant.

Rengoku was so delirious in his fevered panic that he did not notice Aoi slip behind him and plunge a syringe into his neck, depositing a thick stream of the clear liquid that Shinobu knew would have a near-instantaneous effect on his consciousness.

The Insect Pillar felt a strange sense of pity and remorse as she watched her friend slump to the floor outside of the infirmary room, a final cry out for the Ice Pillar falling from his lips before the sedative lulled him back to sleep.

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(Kyojuro’s POV – three days later)

He didn’t know why he’d returned to the Butterfly Mansion.

Kyojuro tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to wait for his crow to return with Kocho’s salve, but he knew it was a pathetic excuse. He’d sworn to himself that he would leave Y/L/N alone after their last argument. He’d vowed that the door between them had been closed for good, and they would only ever be colleagues. Nothing more.

But he couldn’t stay away. Perhaps it was because he’d spent the last few days stewing over their last argument, and somewhere, amidst his endless supply of self-hatred, he’d also grown angry with the Ice Pillar.

Angry, because she had put herself in harm’s way when he’d specifically told her not to.

Angry because she’d nearly died, and she’d threatened to take the last vestiges of his sanity with her to the afterlife.

Angry that she insisted on remaining in the Demon Slayer Corps despite having given more than enough of herself to their cause; angry that she didn’t understand why he couldn’t yet do the same.

Angry because she didn’t seem to understand his feelings at all.

Perhaps in another life, they could have had each other. Had they both been born into a world without demons, then maybe they would have still found each other and maybe, just maybe, he would have been able to love her the way she deserved.

But for Kyojuro, their relationship would always be defined by a series of maybes, and nothing more.

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It would have been a lie for Kyojuro to say he’d not been struck dumb by her.

She was stretched out on the steps of Kocho’s engawa, legs dangling off the edge of the porch as she leaned back on her elbows, eyes closed dreamily as she kept her face tilted up towards the cooling night air.

Long, lean, bare legs, he realized, an uncomfortable heat creeping up his collar. He couldn’t help running his eyes up their length, fixating hard on the supple curves of her thighs.

Why were her legs bare?

She looked…so unguarded this way. Her haori was draped around her shoulders, one of its sleeves hanging loosely to the side and exposing her bare shoulder – how exposed was she, the idiot – and her hair was completely unbound, falling in a silken river to her waist.

It was a stark contrast to the braided crown she wore at the base of her neck. It hit him that, not counting the night she’d nearly died, he had not otherwise seen her with her hair down.

He liked it. A lot.

“I finally rid myself of one migraine only for another to appear,” Y/N’s lofty voice snapped him out of his reverence, as the Ice Pillar opened her eyes to glare at him. 

“If you’ve come for Shinobu, she is not here. She’s on an errand and will not be back until early morning.” Y/N turned her attention away from him and back towards the garden, her voice stony.

At that moment, there were a million things Kyojuro could have said to the Ice Pillar.  

How are you?

I missed the way you glare at me.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Any of those options would have been far better than what came tumbling out of his mouth.

“I hadn’t realized you were indecent. My apologies.”

Y/N’s head snapped back to him, her eyes chips of ice. “Indecent?” She rose from her seat on the engawa and faced him fully, and Rengoku nearly groaned.

Indecent, indeed.

Y/N was showing more skin than Kanroji did on a regular day. As she stood, Rengoku saw that she was hardly wearing any clothing at all, save for the haori draped loosely around her frame.

The Ice Pillar wore no top but the bindings around her chest, leaving a sizeable swath of her midriff exposed to the summer air. Whatever she wore as bottoms could hardly be labeled as “pants,” given that their hem ended just short of the middle of her thigh, leaving the vast majority of her legs exposed to anyone who would happen to walk by.  

The Flame Pillar felt as though he were overheating, and he tugged uselessly at the collar of his uniform shirt. As he looked over the scowling Ice Pillar, Rengoku found himself unable to remember why he had come to the Mansion at all.  

------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N’s POV)

(Earlier that day)

“Ta-da!” Mitsuri sang as she pulled the small bundle from behind her, a grin wide on her face. “A gift from Shinobu and myself!”

Y/N peered down quizzically at the small, folded bunch of cloth in the Love Pillar’s hands. “What is it?”

“A new take on the Corps’ uniform,” Shinobu replied crisply, sitting down on the tatami floor of her office. “I designed it myself, and Mitsuri sewed it.”

“But what is it?” Y/N pressed.

Mitsuri joined Shinobu on the floor. “Your new training pants. Altered, so that you have more flexibility and less irritation against your wound.”

Y/N held up the tiny scrap of fabric between her index finger and thumb. “Are you telling me these are pants?”

Mitsuri and Shinobu nodded, smiling.

Y/N looked incredulously at the two women. “But where are the pants?”

Mitsuri laughed. “Think of it as a cross between the uniform skirt and pants, but more modified.”

Shinobu nodded. “I used the same material that our uniform is made out of but designed it in a way to be more flexible – it will mold to your body rather than require you to use a belt to keep it up.” Y/N unfurled the cloth and gaped down at it. “They likely aren’t suitable for public, but around here and during your training, they should be perfectly adequate.”

“Perfectly adequate?” Y/N repeated, turning the garment over in her hands. “Shinobu, these are underclothes! Not pants!” The Ice Pillar could not stop herself from giggling. “My legs will be entirely exposed!”

“Try them on!” Mitsuri urged. “Shinobu and I estimated they would hit around mid-thigh, so you’ll still have some coverage.” Mitsuri looked down at her own skirt in consideration. “Slightly more so than I do.”

Y/N groaned but removed her uniform pants and slid into her friends’ gift. She was surprised at how comfortable they felt; they had a similar feel to the chest bindings most of the women in the Corps wore, in terms of fit. The black bottoms had no true waistband, but fit snuggly at the dip of her waist, before hugging her hips and thighs until the hem cut right above the middle of her thigh.

“How do they feel?” Shinobu asked as Y/N inspected the new garment.

Y/N turned from side to side, testing their flexibility. “Good. They don’t seem to rub against the scar at all.” Y/N smiled devilishly at her friends. “Even if they do leave little to the imagination.”

MItsuri giggled. “I hadn’t noticed Y/N, but you have – oh, what did Uzui call it?” She scrunched her eyebrows in thought. “Oh! An ‘easy and deliverable type of butt!’” The three girls laughed, carefree as Y/N wiggled her hips suggestively in front of her friends, her heart warm at the care and consideration they had put into their gift.

------------------------------------------------------

Y/N mused that Mitsuri’s assessment of how she looked in the undershorts had been correct as Rengoku’s eyes raked over her as she stood tall before him, an unmistakable glint of hunger glowing in his amber pools.

Until they snagged on the thick, curved gash that extended from the band of her bottoms to just over her belly button.

In an instant, simmering fire of the Flame Pillar’s gaze had been snuffed out, something harder and colder taking over as he glared at where Upper Moon Six had buried his poisoned sickle within her.

Under any other circumstance, Y/N might have felt self-conscious at the mixture of frigid contempt that pulled on Rengoku’s face as he ran his eyes over her scar, but at that moment, it only made her blood boil.

“You should return to your room. You shouldn’t be out here exposed like this.” Rengoku said after a moment, his eyes moving away from her to stare over her shoulder, resolutely avoiding her gaze.

Y/N wondered briefly if it were possible to make someone combust with the fire of their stare. She was so tired and so angry at the way in which he demanded she stay at arm’s length yet felt utterly entitled to boss her around.

She decided then that she would not comply. Instead, Y/N took one step and then another, and again until she pushed past him, marching intently up the path she knew led away from the Butterfly Estate and to a secluded, grassy, hilled clifftop.

“Stop — Y/L/N” Rengoku growled, lunging after her, but Y/N, despite her injured state, was still faster than he, and she twisted out of his grasp before he could grab her and haul her back to the Mansion.

She probably looked insane, and maybe she was -- barely dressed, hair unbound, and striding towards that grassy hill up the winding path from Shinobu’s estate like she had any idea what she was doing.

The Flame Pillar followed.

—————————————————————--------

Apart from her close friendship with the Insect Pillar, there was another reason Y/N spent so much time in and around the Butterfly Mansion — its view.

Though she supposed this secret area she’d discovered couldn’t really be counted as part of Shinobu’s Estate — it was, after all, up a rather steep and twisting climb from the western-most point of her friend’s manor, and one could scarcely see the lights of the house once they ascended the small cliff.

Her thighs ached after nearly two months of disuse as she stormed up the steep incline, narrowly avoiding the sharp, twisting branches of the ancient trees that had concaved over the beaten path, forming a tunnel of gnarled wood that forced her to duck her head to navigate.

Y/N’s chest tightened as she neared the end of the path, the steady beat of the Flame Pillar’s footsteps trailing closely behind her.

When she finally emerged from the thicket of branches, she felt as though she could breathe again.

The path had given way to a cliff-top clearing. Soft, emerald grass covered the earthen floor, peppered with various wildflowers in vibrant hues of periwinkle, white, and pink. Towards the center was a thick, ancient oak tree, with a trunk as wide as a small hut, Its leaves ruffled lazily in the slight summer breeze. Fat hotaru floated idly above the grass while the crickets hummed.

The clearing extended to a point before dropping into a rocky cliff. Had it been a night of a new moon, Y/N would never risk coming out here for fear of stumbling too close to the cliff’s edge. But that night, the moon was full and its silver light was so bright that Y/N could see all the way to the opposite of the clearing, down to the summer irises swaying in the warm night air.

It was a pity that instead of feeling the warm serenity she normally had when she came out to her little hideaway, she felt nothing but boiling anger and a growing headache.

“You need to go back inside,” Rengoku said from behind her. Y/N ground her teeth, turning sharply on her heel to face him.

“Why do you care — I thought you only did that when I’m unconscious.” She bit back, and it felt good to see him be the one who flinched for once. “Or maybe it’s when you think I’m dying?”

She laughed, derisively. “You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve long since forgotten the rules of your game. You change them so often, you see.”

“Go back to the Butterfly Mansion, Y/L/N. You shouldn’t be out here. Not in your current state.” He said, voice as hard and unforgiving as stone.

“I’ve told you already that you are not in a position to order me around!” Y/N snapped, her words and her eyes chips of ice as she glared at him.

He was so infuriating — he had told her, in so many ways, that she meant nothing to him, and yet here he was, glowering at her as though her very existence incensed him.

“You’ve been nothing but unkind to me since I awoke, and you’ve given me no explanation!” She took a step towards him.

“Stop,” the Flame Pillar bit out, barely concealing the way he trembled with rage. “Do not take another step. Turn around and go back inside.”

If Y/N had looked pissed before, she looked downright furious now.

“Why did you come to see me while I was unconscious?” Y/N demanded, shaking. “You came every day, yet the second I wake up, you stop?”

His refusal to answer her, to even look at her, only made her seethe.

“You’re a coward, Rengoku.”

Rengoku’s teeth gnashed together, his fists balling tightly by his sides as he drew upon every ounce last shred of sanity, of restraint, left within him.

“Go. In. Side.” He ground out dangerously, his voice dropping into a growl on the last syllable.

But the Ice Pillar took another step towards him, her eyes blazing with a fire that could outburn his own.

“No.”

Rengoku’s jaw flexed. “Y/L/N-“

“I said no, Rengoku.” She was now within arm’s reach of the rigid Flame Pillar.

His eyes met hers, cold and hard, but she did not balk. She went in for the kill. “You have no say over my choices when my life is meaningless to you.”

Y/N watched the blow land, and land hard.

“Meaningless?” Rengoku looked at her and there was a new fire in his gaze, a hot, angry fire that threatened to burn the grassy overlook around them to cinders. “You believe I think your life is meaningless?”

This time, it was Rengoku who advanced towards her, bringing her within an arm’s length, and forcing her to tilt her head up to hold his raging stare.

“Do you have any idea — any at all — what it was like to see you, half dead in Uzui’s arms?” Rengoku’s voice dark, and harsh as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Or what it was like to have to carry you to Kocho, not knowing whether your heart would give out before I could get you there?”

Y/N refused to cower beneath the intensity of his gaze, her chin lifting defiantly. “Do I know what it was like?” She hissed; hackles raised.

“Thank you Rengoku, truly — thank you.” Y/N laughed, but it was devoid of any humor. “I am so glad that you’ve finally given me something to work with — so those are your rules, are they?”  She was toe to toe with the Flame Hashira, glowering down at her.

“Well since we’re keeping score, Rengoku, do you know what it was like to see you broken and bleeding out on Kocho’s table after the incident on the train?”

“That’s not the same thing,” Rengoku shot back bitterly.

“How the fuck is it not-?”

“Because it wasn’t your mission to take!” Rengoku finally broke, his voice rising to a shout. He could not stop himself as his hands shot out and gripped Y/N’s shoulders, shaking her lightly in his torment.

“You have no idea how it felt to know that you had died — no matter how briefly — because you went on a mission in my place!”

“To know that — that you could still die because I had been too weak on that fucking train. Your death would have been my fault, Y/N!”

----------------------------------------------------

(Kyojuro’s POV)

And there it was: the truth that he had tried so hard to suppress, laid flat out in the open.

Everything that had happened to Y/N, the whole entire mess — had been entirely his fault.

His fault because he had been too weak to finish off Upper Moon Three, too weak to do anything but let the demon’s punch a hole through his chest like it was nothing.

Y/L/N and Uzui had saved themselves in the end; they’d completed their mission, defeating not just one, but two upper ranks. They hadn’t succumbed to their injuries until after they’d fulfilled their duties.

But him? He’d only been saved by the grace of the sun and the tireless efforts of the Kakushi.

He’d nearly lost his life and he had nothing to show for it. Rather than do anything to further the Corp’s ultimate goals, he’d only set them back, and nearly cost them something priceless in return — their Ice Pillar.

The woman he loved.

He had no right to love her, of course — not when his reprehensible weakness had forced her to be offered up to two upper moon demons on a silver platter.

She’d been there, the morning he awoke from his three-week-long coma. She’d been right by his bedside, a sob choking from her throat as she’d called for Kocho to come quick!

At first, he’d been confused, because he hadn’t understood why she was crying. He’d tried to reach for her, to wipe the tears spilling down her cheeks when the pain had slammed into him, causing him to seize, arm suspended in mid-air.

Never before had he not been in control of his body; it had sent him into a panic.

“No, Kyojuro, please don’t move!” Y/N had cried, calling him, for the first time, by his given name. a warm hand wrapping around the one he’d stretched out towards her, lowering it gently down to the bed. “Your injuries are too grave!”

He didn’t remember much after that, only what Kocho had filled him in on later — namely, that he’d begun to panic, his breathing flaring out of control as he’d tried to fight off Y/L/N, a Kakushi, and the Insect Pillar.

His recovery had been long and slow. His wounds from the Upper Three demon had resulted in significant muscle damage that had required weeks of intensive care and training in order to build it back up again.

Those long days spent at the Butterfly Mansion had given him time to stew; to rage against himself. He’d been frustrated, so unbelievably frustrated over his inability to swing his own sword for more than five minutes that he almost considered giving in and retiring.

And then Uzui arrived, and he’d mentioned an upcoming mission to the Entertainment District, that they had discussed prior to Kyojuro leaving for the damned train, and the Sound Pillar revealed that his intel suggested the possible presence of an Upper Rank.

Kyojuro had promised to accompany him, and then he’d woken up in Kocho’s hospital, and that mission had been taken off the table and given to her.

The panic he had felt had been indescribable; he had narrowly survived an encounter with an Upper Rank, but then he was forced to watch the woman he loved walk straight into the wolf's den, and he had been incapable of convincing her to stay behind.

While she had been gone, he had railed against and prayed to and cursed at the gods, begging them to bring her home, to let her come back to him alive and whole.

Instead, they’d sent her back as a near-corpse and had laughed at his pitiful attempts to save her.

And then, she had straddled that narrow divide between life and death for nearly two months, and he had been as helpless as a cat chasing a string — his desire forever in sight yet somehow always just beyond his reach.

After his brush with death, he’d made a commitment to himself not to think of his battle with the Upper Three demon, to not waste his skill and energy on the past, but rather focus his fury on ensuring that when they did meet again, he would emerge victorious. He’d certainly not given any thought to the demon’s slime-tongued words.

He’d been disgusted when the demon had propositioned turning him into its like — and outright offended that those creatures could ever compare to the beautiful transience of humanity.

But then he’d cradled Y/N, broken and dying in his arms, and for the first time, Kyojuro had understood the appeal of the Upper Three’s offer.

Because he would rather have lived in a world in which Y/N had been turned into his enemy than in one in which she did not exist at all.

The very thought had shaken him to his core; because it meant he was not fully dedicated to their cause. He had no right to call himself a Hashira; nor did he have any right to claim to love Y/L/N. Not when he’d so easily damn her out of his own selfishness. So he had run.

A coward, after all.

--------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N was panting, her fury rippling off her in near-tangible waves.

“So, this whole thing,” she seethed, her voice shaking. “Your whole fucking attitude — has been because you’ve had your head so far up your ass, that you thought my injuries were your fault?”

It was unbelievable. It was ridiculous. And yet it was so Rengoku that it made her ears ring, made her see red as she tried to keep herself from imploding.

Rengoku said nothing, but she could see the way his eyes shuttered closed, his walls flying back up as he remained intent on keeping her out. He turned and began walking back towards the path back to the Estates.

“I was right — you ARE a coward!” She shrieked after him.

He froze. She stood there, heaving, daring him to turn around, to face her.

“Do not call me a coward again,” he said quietly, his back still to her, but his shoulders tensed, his fists balling once more at his sides.

Y/N smiled ruefully. “Then exactly what would you call what you’re doing now?.” Her lip curled into a sneer. “Run away, Rengoku. It’s what you do best.”

A flash of orange and white clouded her vision as Rengoku turned on his heel and closed the distance between them before she could draw another breath.

Y/N did not have time to react before his hands gripped either side of her jaw as he slammed his mouth down against hers, furious and heated.

It was not gentle; it was an angry clash of lips and teeth, but it also stoked a fire so hot in Y/N’s belly that she did not care, and she fully gave herself over to the bruising press of his lips against hers. She gladly opened up to him so that his tongue could slide into her mouth as one of his hands snaked behind her head to press her harder to him, demanding that she let him take and take until he was sated.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. They broke apart with a gasp, leaping back from one another as though burned. Their chests heaved as they stared at one another.

There was a line drawn in the sand between them. If either of them crossed it, there would be no going back.

He was a coward, but she wasn’t. And she’d grown tired of this tedious dance of theirs.

Yet it surprised her all the same that he reached for her at the same time she moved for him, the two of them colliding like magnets as their mouths clashed together once more.

Rengoku kissed her like he was drowning, and she was his lifeline.

Y/N threw her arms around his neck and tugged him down closer to her, determined to take from him as much as he wanted to take from her.

The pair of them stumbled back against the ancient oak tree that sat back from the grassy cliff, Y/N caged against its bark by the Flame Pillar.

His hands gripped fistfuls of her haori as though he couldn’t decide whether to pull her closer or tug her away. His lips devoured each breathy moan he pulled from her as one hand tangled in her hair and pulled, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

She ran her hands through the fiery strands of his hair, gripping and tugging it as he explored her mouth was his demanding tongue. Y/N, emboldened by the way his fingers dug into her haori, let her hands roam from his hair and to his neck, and then to the rocky planes of his broad chest before settling on his hips as she tugged him flush against her. 

His control was slipping, and fast. “Y/L/N, I can’t- I won’t be able to hold back.” Rengoku moaned into her mouth, his hands scrunching the fabric of her haori, his fingers desperately seeking to hold her closer to him. “Tell me to stop, Y/L/N.”

Y/N’s hands only buried deeper into his hair, tugging him harder against her as she slid her tongue into his waiting mouth.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth between breaks for oxygen. “Never stop, Rengoku.”

Y/N pulled back from him, just enough to unlatch his hands from where they were buried in the back of her haori, and moved them inside its folds, right on her bare waist.

The burning weight of his hands felt exquisite.

Rengoku shuddered as he felt the smooth, soft dips of Y/N’s waist, his fingers digging into her flesh as he sought to touch more of her, his hands running across every inch that was not covered by her bindings or those glorious undershorts.

Lips still moving furiously against hers, Rengoku bent slightly to run his hands down the silken expanse of her thighs, gripping under her knees before hoisting her up to carry her away from the tree and lay her down in the velvety grass below.

Y/N felt as though she were on fire. The ache between her legs was almost maddening, and she was desperate to have the Flame Pillar sheathe himself inside her, to make her forget even her own name.

If she could not have his love, she could at least have this.

Her hands dragged down Rengoku’s front, coming to a rest at his belt before she began fumbling with the clasp. Y/N had just managed to undo it when Rengoku’s hands — large, warm, and much stronger than her own, wrapped around her wrists, stilling her.

“Not yet, you impatient woman,” he smirked against her mouth. He moved one wrist to join the other in his left hand before bringing her arms up over her head, pinning her to the ground.

Y/N whimpered and rolled her hips against his, impatient and demanding, wanting desperately to feel some relief as her core clenched wildly around nothing.

Rengoku chuckled darkly, the rich timbre of his voice causing her blood to nearly boil with her want, as he made his way down her body with his lips.

He first came to her chest bindings, growling in impatience as he nipped at one breast over the tightly wound fabric.

His fingers brushed against her sternum as he ripped her bindings straight down the middle, Y/N shuddering as the warm summer night’s air caressed her sensitive skin, her nipples pebbling at the change in temperature.

She waited for him to lavish her soft mounds, but the Flame Pillar paused, eyes narrowed on the valley between her breasts, right on the pale, lilac mark where he’d plunged Shinobu’s antidote into her heart.

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. He’d reacted poorly to the ribboned scar on her lower belly already, and now her once chance to finally have Rengoku in the way she’d so desperately longed to have him was about to be ruined.

But instead of pulling away from her in disgust, he leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against it the healed wound.

“I hadn’t realized I wounded you,” he murmured softly, reverently as he kissed it again. Y/N watched in bewilderment as he pressed his ear against her chest, letting his head rest there for a moment.

Listening to her heart hammer against her sternum.

“The sweetest music,” he whispered, pulling away to look at her not with lust but with unbounded tenderness.

Don’t look at me like that, she silently begged, don’t give me hope.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it passed and the esurient flame in Rengoku’s eyes flickered back to life. His lips continued down her abdomen, hot and needy until he reached the source of her near-fatal injury.

His mouth paused at the scar left by Upper Moon Six, the one he’d so callously glared at not even an hour before. This time, he ran his tongue along it, from the top to its base near her hipbone, pressing a fierce kiss against its end before continuing his descent.

“I will either have to thank my old Tsugoku the next time I see her,” Rengoku whispered darkly as he pulled at the soft waistband of Y/N’s undershorts with his teeth. “Or I shall have to burn her sewing room to cinders.” Rengoku’s fingers slid beneath the short hem of her bottoms, pulling them down inch by inch to expose her sensitive flesh.

Rengoku groaned when he saw Y/N was not wearing anything else beneath her scandalous bottoms. “Definitely burning.” His hands, so large and warm ran up the outer curve of her thighs, marveling at the silky smoothness of her skin. “Because you are far too tempting when wearing them.”

The Flame Pillar looked wild as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the lower indent between Y/N’s hipbones as he kissed his way down to where she ached the most.

He ducked around the center of her desire in favor of sucking softly on her inner thigh. Y/N’s chest heaved as her hands flailed next to her, desperately seeking purchase, until the Flame Hashira caught them in his hands, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on her palms as their fingers interlaced.

“Rengoku - just fuck me already,” Y/N groaned as the Flame Pillar’s face settled between her thighs, his hot breath against her bare cunt causing her legs to attempt to clench shut.

“Well now, that won’t do,” Rengoku tutted, his hands withdrawing from hers as he wound his arms underneath both of her thighs, spreading them as wide as he could to expose her core to his heady gaze.

Rengoku leaned forward and lightly traced up her damp slit with the tip of his tongue. His amber irises which had been locked on hers, rolled back into his head as he groaned at her taste.

“I’m going to take my time with you. I’ve been dreaming of this for a long time, Y/N.” He warned, hands tightening around her thighs as he pressed a light kiss against her slit, teasing her.

In the back of her mind, Y/N registered that he’d used her first name. But the graze of his lips against her most sensitive flesh had her crying out his name, high-pitched and breathy, and she watched helplessly as the sound made Rengoku’s eyes turn black.

In an instant, he was upon her, and he was ravenous.

His mouth latched to her center as though she was an oasis in the middle of a blazing desert, and he was a man dying of thirst.

The way Rengoku’s teeth grazed her sensitive nub made her abdomen clench, and she fought against his ironclad grip on her thighs as they spasmed, desperate to clench around his head.

Y/N moaned, head thrown back into the soft summer grass as she felt herself grow wetter and wetter beneath the Flame Pillar, her hands desperately tugging and pinching at her breasts in an effort to feel more pleasure.

Y/N felt as though she was hurtling towards a cliff that she could not stop herself from tumbling over as Rengoku increased the intensity of his ministrations against her needy cunt.

“You taste,” he ground out through harsh drags of his tongue up her drenched folds, “like fucking paradise.”

His mouth latched around her clit, giving it a sharp suck that had Y/N seeing stars. She barely had time to recover, to acknowledge that she was at her tipping point when Rengoku thrust his tongue into her core and began to fuck her.

Y/N came apart the moment she felt his tongue enter her, a rush of her juices spilling over his relentless maw, but he held her hips down and continued his feast. His teeth grazed her clit over and over while his tongue pumped steadily in and out of her, and Y/N was close to sobbing at the overstimulation.

The Flame Pillar kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time, the amber orbs glowing almost ominously in the indigo night.

“I- fuck.” Y/N breathed, grinding unrestrainedly against the blonde’s greedy mouth. “Rengoku!”

The Ice Pillar tried to sit up, tried to grab her comrade’s hair to tell him that she couldn’t take it anymore, that she needed him, but Rengoku was faster. Unfurling a steely arm from where it had been locked around her thigh to hold her open to him, he reached up her torso, his large hand splaying across her upper abdomen to restrain her.

“Sit down,” he growled between thrusts of his tongue into her aching cunt, nipping harshly at her inner thigh. “I am not finished.”

Y/N whimpered beneath the weight of his hand holding her down against the earth and the nearly painful ecstasy that Rengoku bestowed upon her between her legs.

Whether it was in praise for her obedience or a further act of torture, Rengoku then pressed his face flush against her core and rocked it harshly from side to side, his nose and the burgeoning stubble along his jaw scraping against her overstimulated and sensitive flesh.

Y/N slapped her hand against her mouth to stifle the howl that tore from her throat. Rengoku repeated the movement; it felt wonderful. It felt obscene. It made Y/N’s thighs contract around his head as her stomach dipped inward and a gush of her juices spilled out of her, more powerful than before, dampening the collar of the Flame Pillar’s haori.

For a breath, Y/N thought she would die of embarrassment until she felt Rengoku’s mouth vibrate against her from his groan of satisfaction. His tongue thrust once, twice more into her aching core before he withdrew completely, satisfaction tugging at the corners of his smirking lips.

But Rengoku looked nowhere near sated as he gazed down hungrily at her, wantonly spread out against the grass, the shredded pieces of her training attire strewn about, save for her haori.

“I will give you one last chance to end this now,” Rengoku whispered, kneeling above her but no longer touching her. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will walk away, and no one will know.”

Though her body already ached from the intensity of Rengoku’s mouth upon her, she could not fathom stopping here, not when she’d barely begun to taste him herself. The thought of rolling aside to pull on the tattered remains of her clothing, to return to her estate and awake tomorrow as though he had not melted every icy reservation she’d held with his touch, was enough to make her want to cry.

Though her limbs felt boneless, she summoned all her strength to reach toward the Flame Hashira, to beckon him to return to her.

“I want you, Rengoku,” Y/N said, her voice a breathy whisper as tears clung to her eyelashes. “Please.”

Rengoku’s pupils exploded, his eyes darkening as he covered her nude body with his own. Y/N nearly sobbed in relief as his lips roughly caught hers, one hand coming up to cradle her face while the other snaked beneath her head, tilting it to the side so he could deepen his claim over her mouth.

Y/N’s hands rose, shakily, to pull at the buttons of his uniform top, desperate to feel his skin burn against hers.

“On one condition,” Rengoku said, moving his lips from hers to press against her ear, Y/N shivering. “You must call me by my name,”

“Rengoku?” Y/N questioned her mind too fogged by her own desire.

He nipped lightly under her jaw before pulling his face back from hers, smirking slightly at the way she whined when avoided her attempt to kiss him again.

“My true name.”

With clarity, Y/N realized what he desired. But he had teased her far too much already, and she yearned to return the favor.

So she looked up at him through her eyelashes, teeth sinking into her lower lip in such a way that made the Flame Hashira’s eyes darken.

“Please, please, Kyojuro,” she whispered, lancing a hand up his bicep. “Take me.”

The growl that clawed its way out of the heaving chest of the Flame Pillar made Y//N’s thighs clamp together. Rengoku — Kyojuro — pounced on her, and Y/N summoned all her residual strength to rip his uniform shirt open.

Kyojuro moaned into her neck as his shirt gave way and Y/N’s hands came to rest against his bare skin, her nails raking down his taut pectorals to the rigid planes of his chiseled abdomen.

Her lips began descending the path carved by her nails when she drew short at the dark, thick starburst-shaped scar that covered his shoulder and left pectoral. Kyojuro’s breath seized as she pressed her lips ever so softly against it, turning so she could look up at him from beneath her lashes.

Kyojuro was panting as she nuzzled against his scar, kissing it once more before gently gliding her hand over his heart and resting it there, letting herself savor the strong, sturdy beat from within his chest.

Just as he did before, she resumed her trail down his body, her lips coming to the edge of his pants when his hands wound themselves in her hair, every nerve in his body alight as she licked her way up the small happy trail that stopped just below his belly button.

As much as he wanted to feel her mouth around him, Kyojuro had been driven to the brink of insanity by Y/N’s touch, and his resolve was quickly dwindling.

“Y/N — my flame — I can’t wait,” Kyojuro said by way of apology, as he covered her hands with his own to still them on his belt. He slipped his hands down to grip her wrists, bringing them together in one hand and moving her arms up over her head, pinning them against the grasp. With his free hand, Kyojuro loosened his belt and his pants, and shimmied them down, kicking them off behind him. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight of his proud length as it bounced against his belly button.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She was no stranger to the male body, but this – she’d never had anyone compare to Kyojuro’s size or girth.

Kyojuro noticed her hesitation. “Is this – have you ever --?” Kyojuro breathed, hovering above her. It did not matter to him whether she had or had not, but he wanted to ensure that he did not hurt her.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s not my first time – but you are the first one to be so…well endowed.” Y/N flushed as Kyojuro laughed softly above her, and she felt his lips graze hers.

He pulled back slightly, reaching to grip the base of his aching cock tapping it against her soaked cunt in a warning and in permission.

Y/N seized beneath him at the spark of hot pleasure that was sent crackling up her spine as he rubbed his velvety head against the most sensitive part of her core. “Kyojuro,” she hissed through clenched teeth, rolling her hips impatiently towards him.

The mushroomed tip of his cock pushed into her entrance and Y/N felt herself go cross-eyed. It was heaven; pure, unadulterated, blissful heaven.

He was insistent on easing his thick length into her, but the throbbing between Y/N’s legs had grown nearly unbearable. He still wasn’t close enough, not nearly as much as she needed him to be.

Boldly, Y/N locked her ankles against Kyojuro’s backside, and with all her might, hauled him into her in a single stroke.

“Fuck!” he yelled, unable to restrain his volume as Y/N forced him to become fully seated within her. Her core was impossibly tight and so fucking warm and wet that it had been a true exercise of self-restraint not to spill himself inside her right then.

Y/N nearly screamed in pleasured relief at the way her body burned and stretched around Kyojuro’s considerable length, his base pressed flush against her sensitive clit as she began to grind furiously against him, desperate to relieve the friction that made her ache.

Kyojuro was still panting from the way Y/N had slammed him into her, nearly trembling with restraint as he willed himself not to finish before they’d truly begun.

Once certain that he would not climax like some green boy, he laughed quietly under his breath. The dark sound caused Y/N’s eyes to fly open, and her stomach flipped at the wicked glint in his eyes as he stared at her like a hunter stalking its prey.

Kyojuro leaned forward and took one of her breasts, harshly into his mouth, grazing his teeth over her nipple hard enough to make Y/N cry out in slight pain before he lapped at it soothingly with his tongue.

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” He murmured between his ministrations, leaving fresh marks all over aching mounds.

Y/N could hardly make a sound as Kyojuro withdrew almost completely from her heat before slamming into her once, the Ice Pillar nearly choking on the breath that flew from her chest with his force.

Desperately — pathetically — Y/N nodded, whimpering.

“If that’s how you want it,” Kyojuro growled against her breast, giving her nipple one harsh nip with his teeth before pulling himself off her.

He sat on his knees, back straight as he began to pound relentlessly into her, his hands gripping her backside and holding her flush against his strong thighs. Y/N’s head remained thrown back against the earth, her fingers tearing at the soft grass beneath her.

Rengoku’s movements were just like those he wielded in battle — powerful; all-consuming; relentless; and unforgiving.

Y/N had never considered herself to be a particularly vocal person when engaged in carnal activities, but the way that Rengoku’s cock hammered into her spasming core over and over had reduced her to a moaning and whimpering mess. The only intelligible thing that fell from her lips was his name — Kyojuro.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” Kyojuro grunted out between forceful snaps of his hips against hers, the night air alive with the lewd squelching of Y/N’s dripping cunt as he pistoned into her.

Y/N looked to see the Flame Pillar’s eyes locked on her breasts as they bounced with the force of his thrusts. Between the moans and whimpers he pulled from her with every punishing thrust of his hips against hers, she lightly dragged her fingers from their place in the grass to her hipbone, and then up to trace teasingly around her peaked breast.

Kyojuro’s eyes followed every move, his thrusts hardening as she pinched her nipple and let out a breathy little scream, her walls pulsing around his aching length.

“Fuck,” Kyojuro grit, feeling himself twitch within her as he watched Y/N play with herself, spurring him to go faster, deeper within her.

He moved his hand under one of her knees and lifted her leg over his shoulder, allowing him to plunge deeper into her silken heat, and he teasingly drew his fingers up and down her outer thigh.

At that moment, as Kyojuro was poised against the silhouette of the moon, his amber eyes glowing as he watched where he appeared and disappeared inside her, the realization hit Y/N like a storm, and it knocked her entirely off her axis.

She was in love with Kyojuro.

Who else could make her feel so sacred and yet so angry? Who else had been capable of slipping past every wall she’d built within herself, capable of getting her to let her guard down before consuming her so furiously she had not realized she’d ever been in danger?

He was fire, she was ice. One of them had to give to the other. She’d just always thought it would be him giving into her.

Yet there, beneath the moonlight, her climax rising above her like a tidal wave, Y/N realized that she was powerless against the waves that rose to pull her under, to never again let her up for air.

Distantly, Y/N felt the Flame Pillar’s callused thumb find her clit and her climax slammed into her, and she succumbed to the endless sea called Kyojuro.

--------------------------------------------------------

As Y/N broke apart around him, Kyojuro swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful in his entire life.

She shattered over him with the prettiest scream he’d ever heard, and he could barely make out the drawn-out syllables of his name as her hips jerked up against his while her inner walls threatened to squeeze the life from him.

Y/N finally collapsed back against the ground, her body limp from the exhaustion of her pleasure. Kyojuro then moved in chase of his own release, his hips pressed solidly against hers as he rutted his cock deep within her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands tightening around Y/N’s waist. The familiar electricity of impending release tingled at the base of Kyojuro’s spine, and his stomach began to clench as he began his ascent to his climax.  “Y/N — I am going to finish soon,” his head was thrown back, and his groans were loud enough to alert anyone nearby of exactly what was transpiring between the two Hashira. “Please — tell me where--”

“Inside,” Y/N gasped, her legs tightening around Kyojuro’s hips in a feeble attempt to keep him within her, to ensure that he wouldn’t yet leave her. “Please, Kyojuro, stay.”

Kyojuro was a rational man, and he knew of one major reason not to allow his seed to spill inside Y/N’s heavenly body. But all those rationalities flew out the window at the sound of her wanton and needy whimpers and the way her heat fluttered around him and Kyojuro did not think he could pull out of her if he wanted to.

Kyojuro’s thrusts became more and more frenzied and bruising, with the Flame Hashira hardly dragging his twitching length out of her as he neared his own climax.

“Hold onto me,” he panted, falling forward so that his chest was pressed flush against Y/N’s, one arm going to wrap around her waist while the other snaked over to where her arm lay in the grass, gripping her wrist to pin it up over her head as his fingers interlocked tightly with hers.

Y/N hiked her legs higher up his waist, crossing them at her shins so that he was buried deep within her. Her free arm looped under the one he had braced above her head to wrap around his back, her fingers digging into the rippling muscle and scarred skin that littered his shoulders.

“Make me yours, Kyojuro,” she whispered against his neck, squeezing his hips with her thighs.

Y/N felt his entire body tense at her words and Kyojuro’s moans turned into shouts as he gave one final, deep thrust within her before he exploded. His hand tightened fiercely around hers with the force of his climax,

The pleasure that surged up his spine had been white hot as he pushed himself as deeply as he could possibly go within Y/N’s vice-like core. Kyojuro was not a novice to pleasure, but he had never finished as hard or as much as he did buried within her.

Kyojuro canted his hips, prolonging his release as he continued to empty himself into her, coming down from his earth-shattering high. Y/N mewled against his throat, her lips brushing against his sensitive pulse point as her legs spasmed. once more around his hips.

He finally stilled within her, arms shaking as he braced himself above her, to keep from crushing the exhausted woman beneath him.

He lowered his head down to her level. “Are you all right, my flame?” He panted, pressing a kiss between her brows before he rested his forehead heavily against hers.

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and nodded shakily.

He no longer could keep himself from collapsing against Y/N, but as he fell forward, he gripped her and rolled, pulling her to his chest with his leaking cock still nestled deeply between her legs.  

“I don’t want to push you away,” Kyojuro murmured softly after a moment, his chest finally easing as his breathing slowed.

Y/N made a show of looking down to where they were still joined, the Flame Pillar’s pearly seed slowly leaking out of her and onto the grass below them. “I think I’m about as close to you as physically possible, Rengoku.”

Kyojuro rolled his eyes and ground his hips slightly into her, causing Y/N to squeak against him.

“Quiet, woman, I’m trying to apologize to you.” He trailed his fingers up and down her spine as she nestled back against his chest, chin perched on his pectoral as she waited for him to continue.

“I was just so angry. After the incident on the train, when I woke up in Kocho’s hospital — I was furious. With myself.” Amber eyes met hers and softened to pools of melted honey. “It was never you I was angry with.”

Y/N held his gaze evenly, her voice firm. “But you took it out on me all the same.” It wasn’t an angry accusation — it was the truth; ugly and sharp. But it was real, and so was the tentative, knowing hope in her eyes.

“Yes,” Kyojuro breathed. “Yes, I did. And I am so sorry for it, Y/N.” His hand reached up to gently cup the side of her face, thumb smoothing over the soft expanse of her cheek. “May I ask for your forgiveness?”

Y/N leaned her head into his warm palm, and smiled, softly.

“You may ask, Kyojuro.”

He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “Can you forgive me, Y/N?”

Y/N threw a leg out over his other hip, straddling him beneath her, though moving so fluidly that they remained connected at their base.

She rolled her hips against his, and he felt himself begin to harden within her once more. Kyojuro moaned softly, head falling back against the earth as he brought his hands up to steady her, fingers digging gently into her hips as she repeated the movement, again and again, until he’d fully stiffened within her.

“Yes Kyojuro,” she sighed, hands coming to brace themselves against his abdomen as she began to ride him. “I forgive you.”

Kyojuro groaned, his head thrown back as he began to gently grind up into her, goosebumps erupting over his flesh as she lightly raked her nails over his pectorals and the hard ridges of his abdomen.

He wanted so very badly to lose himself within his pleasure, to allow Y/N to consume him whole and never let him go again, but his atonement was not complete.

Because Y/N had given him every opportunity to confess to her before, and he had been careless with them; she would not open that door herself again.

So he would.

“And may I give you my heart, Y/N?” He asked, his hands gliding sensually up from her hips to brace themselves on either side of her sensitive waist, squeezing her firmly.

Her pace had stuttered slightly once his words registered, eyes widening as she looked down at him, and Kyojuro hated that he was the reason the shadow of doubt lingered in her eyes.

“Is it truly mine?” She breathed, resuming the intoxicating rise and fall and push and grind of her hips, breasts beginning to bounce as she picked up her pace.

Kyojuro’s mouth watered, but he restrained himself, holding her gaze. “It was only ever yours, Y/N.”

Y/N cried out then, her hips beginning to drop and roll into his with urgency. By the way her damp heat began to pulse and constrict around him, Kyojuro knew that she was barreling towards her release once more.

One hand left its searing position at her waist to drift down to where they were connected, his rough thumb toying with the sensitive nub that had her heavenly cunt squeezing him for dear life.

“My beautiful flame,” he moaned, “how lucky I am to have such a darling god be the keeper of my heart.”

Kyojuro rolled into her from below again, the hand still braced on her waist guiding himself to push deeper into her, as his thumb began to press harder into the apex of her thighs.

“Sweet tempest, please,” Kyojuro panted, the relentless squeeze of Y/N’s walls around his aching length beginning to drive him to the point of madness. “Please, may I have your love?”

Y/N’s moans were piercing as she half-sobbed above him, head thrown back into the night sky, the hoary glow of the moon making her look like a celestial deity given human form as she writhed above him.

“Yes!” Y/N cried, “Yes Kyojuro, you have always had my love!”

The moment the words fell from her lips, Kyojuro jolted upright, coming into a sitting position as Y/N’s legs instantly wrapped around him. He wound one arm around her waist to bounce her in his lap, the other moving to circle his fingers around her nub.

Kyojuro nuzzled her nose with his own, his lips mere centimeters from hers as he pressed his forehead against her and held her eyes. “Then come for me, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath tickling her lips as he nuzzled her again. “Come for me, my love.”

Y/N seized around him like a vice, her head falling back as she unleashed a euphoric cry.

The force of her climax had caused her to arch backward in Kyojuro’s lap, thrusting her breasts up and forward, and Kyojuro bent to suck one into his greedy mouth, his own release imminent. The warm sticky rush of her pleasure combined with the way her velvety, molten walls constricted around him had Kyojuro seeing stars as his seed shot into her, hot and fast, his strangled groan muffled only by the soft plush of Y/N’s breast as he filled her to her brim for the second time that night.

For a long moment, neither Pillar said anything as they came down from their mutual highs, Y/N’s head pressed against Kyojuro’s shoulder while the Flame Pillar kept his arms firmly around her waist, his fingers trailing up and down her spine.

“Y/N, are you all right?” He murmured into her ear, still buried deep within her heat.

Y/N nodded sleepily against his skin, savoring how full and complete she felt perched in his lap.

“I love you, Kyojuro.” She said so softly that the Flame Pillar thought his heart might break. Kyojuro pulled away slightly to bring his fingers beneath her chin where she lay against his shoulder. Gently, he tilted her face towards his and captured her lips with his own.  

“My darling flame,” He murmured against her lips as they broke apart, his eyes sweeping over her face, committing every detail of her beauty to memory. “Thank you.”

Y/N gave him a lazy smile. “I cannot be your flame, Kyojuro,” she teased, “Not when I am made of ice.”

Kyojuro flipped her back beneath him and danced his lips teasingly across the bridge of her nose. “Don’t you know, my beautiful foil, that ice can burn just as well as flame?” He pressed a feather-light kiss against her lips. “And I have been consumed by your silvery fire since I first laid eyes on you at Final Selection.”

Y/N looked up at him in wonder, her hand coming to rest against his face as she adoringly caressed his cheek.

“I love you, Y/N. I am so sorry it took me until now to say it.”

-------------------------------------------------—

Epilogue

Y/N made back it into her room, sight unseen, just as dawn had crept over the horizon.

Feet bare, she padded softly over to her waiting bed, shrugging out of Kyojuro’s uniform shirt and falling into her blankets, not caring at the growing discomfort she felt as the Flame Pillar’s seed dried in her undershorts.

She just wanted to sleep.

Y/N and Kyojuro had come together twice more before the pair realized that morning was imminent, and they needed to return to their respective dwellings before anyone noticed they were gone.

Y/N had lamented that Kyojuro had shredded her chest bindings beyond salvation and had worried she’d be forced to sneak back into the Butterfly Mansion with nothing but her haori to cover her bare chest when Kyojuro slid his uniform shirt over her shoulders.

“No one will think twice if they see me bare,” he’d said by way of explanation, gaze dropping momentarily to appreciate the marks he had left dotted across her breasts before rising back to her face. “I would like to keep you hidden, however.”

Kyojuro then fastened each button one by one, beginning from the bottom as he kissed his way up Y/N’s torso until his lips found the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, which he’d nipped.

It had taken everything in her not to throw him down and have him for the fifth time.

Kyojuro had walked with her as far as the edge of the path back to Shinobu’s before parting her with a sweet kiss and a promise to return to her later in the morning. He had also mentioned, somewhat mischievously, that he would be inquiring into when Y/N could expect to be discharged from the Butterfly Mansion and return to her own Estate.

Her empty, person-free estate.

Y/N collapsed into her bed, ready to sleep for a precious few hours before her training would begin anew.

“So, do you mind sharing where you’ve been all night?” A dangerously sweet voice chirped from over by the door.

Y/N shot up out of her bed, stomach falling out of her ass, as she faced the smiling, enraged Insect Pillar seated primly atop her wooden stool opposite of her.

“I was quite worried, you know,” Shinobu tutted, the honey of her smile poisoned by the violence in her eyes.

Y/N had never been one to be at a loss for words, a quick comment, or a snappy retort always on hand when the situation called for it.

But to her horror, her mind had gone dreadfully blank, and her tongue was swollen stupid in her mouth.

Shinobu smiled like she knew, eyes slowly looking her over, and Y/N was left with the uncomfortable feeling that her friend could see every way she’d allowed Kyojuro to utterly defile her.

“Will you be in need of a contraceptive?” Shinobu asked lightly, and Y/N felt like she would drop dead right then and there.

“…Yes, please.” She managed to squeak, and the Insect Pillar turned to leave.

“I will bring it with your breakfast.” Her hand closed around the doorknob but stilled.

“And Y/N?”

The Ice Pillar whimpered as her friend turned to look back at her, all smiles and throbbing forehead veins.

“If you ever keep the younger girls awake from the sounds of your activities with the Flame Pillar again, I will poison you both.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

[kiame-sama]

Omega Marechi (Yandere!Upper-Moons x Omega!Reader x Yandere!Muzan)

Warnings; yandere, multiple yandere, stalking, mention of violence, mention of social imbalance, my abo au (less than 1000 omegas world wide and omegas are a commodity of sorts), omega reader, abo social ladder, abo societal structure, unfair situations, instinct manipulation, kidnapping, threat of murder, blood, violence, mention of human consumption, demons, female bodied reader, female reader pronouns (let me know if y'all want a male version).

(It's a personal headcannon of mine that omegas are short & chubby, so very soft and squishy)

(Also, let me know if y'all want a continuation of this, I have a certain idea involving stockades I have been interested in trying out)

~~~~~~~~

Deep within the winding surfaces and ever changing interior of a fortress wreathed in darkness, demons began to gather. Though they were few in number, each demon had their own impressive strengths and abilities that set them apart from the many other members of their brood. Even with their combined presence and strength, their master stood above them in every way possible.

The king of demons, he who sired every other demon, stood watching his upper ranked generals as they gathered beneath him. Short dark hair seemed to swallow all light in the inky abyssal color, bright red eyes glinting like lit lanterns on the darkest of nights. His fair skin unblemished and so smooth it could be mistaken for the marble of a true artisan's finest work. Truly a vision of a true apex alpha with the beauty of a divine being.

The six generals that gathered were supposed to be without company and solely focused on their sire, yet one was not alone. Next to the top general of the king's army was a large rectangular box shape that was draped in heavy fabrics to conceal what may be held within. The fabrics seemed to be soaked in a heavy perfume mixed with the hint of an unusually appealing scent that taunted the senses.

"What have you brought, Kokushibou?"

The deep and commanding voice of the demon king rumbled out with a tint of curiosity in his tone. Where he expected quite a bit from his upper moons, even he had to admit that the actions of his top general were odd. It was not often that the upper moons did something that surprised him- and usually was met with a swift reprimand- but his curiosity had been peaked by the abnormal behavior.

Without saying a word, Kokushibou gripped the heavy fabric and quickly pulled it away, revealing what had been concealed. Beneath the cloth lay an iron cage- much like what an exotic beast would be transported in- with blankets lining the bottom of the cage for cushion. The cage itself wasn't very interesting when compared to what lay within.

Laying bound in the iron cage was a woman, her (h/c) locks strewn around her head and her (s/c) flesh looked incredibly plush and no doubt was soft to the touch. A delicate and fine silk kimono wrapped around her bound form, even that which held her was made of the expensive materials. Her eyes were covered in a long silk ribbon, mouth held shut by an intricate golden muzzle, her arms cuffed together with similarly intricate cuffs in front of her and lower legs cuffed together.

A woman- no matter how decorated- wasn't much to crow about, but the pungent scent that had been smothered by the perfumes was now free and quickly reached those nearby. There was a visible change in the way the other upper moons stood, their nostrils flaring and eyes fixed on the soft woman as they contemplated what she was. The scent reached Muzan last, but he knew immediately what was being presented to him, though he could scantly believe what his senses were telling him.

"No," Douma started, his multi colored eyes wide in disbelief, "that's impossible. Omegas aren't real! It must be a trick."

"Looks real to me. Smells real too. Actually," Akaza sniffed, looking curiously at the bound female, "she smells like a marechi."

A soft whimper came from within the cage, the female inside moving and seemingly trying to pull away from her binds. The muzzle secured on her kept her from speaking and muffled her sounds as she responded to the voices around her. Blindly she turned her head towards the sound of Akaza speaking, seemingly trying to understand where she was and who she was with.

"She was being transported as cargo on a train. From her scent, it was made clear to me that she is an Omega and a marechi. She has no mating marks present on her body. The humans transporting her were on their way to deliver her to slayers, a gift from a small village of fools."

Muzan silently descended from where he had been standing above the upper moons, approaching the cage curiously. The other demons watched in interest as their sire crouched, observing the bound female that had been presented to him. He had not encountered an omega, even in his long life, so seeing such a rare and unusual being in a cage was surreal. Truly, he had thought omegas were just another myth created by humans.

He reached a finger between the bars, his sharp nail gently scraping over the exposed neck of the omega. Naturally, she responded with a fearful sound at the feeling of something sharp against her neck, trying to writhe away from the sensation. The obvious fear was accompanied by an intense scent that prodded at their minds to defend the soft woman from whatever may be causing her distress.

Muzan observed the struggling of the delicacy he had been presented with, red eyes gleaming and unwavering. After a moment of simply watching the omega struggle, he reached his hands forward to grip the cage bars. With one flex, the metal groaned beneath his hands, crumpling like sand and bending out of shape. One of his hands held the cage still as he ripped the bar off of the cage, pulling out several more until he could access the omega.

The loud sound of the metal bending and crushing had clearly upset the omega who let out a muffled scream into the muzzle, body twisting and writhing to escape the frightening sound and its source. Another scream escaped her as one of Muazan's hands gripped the back of the her kimono, dragging her out of the remnants of the cage. A sharp scent made him freeze, the taunting ambrosia of marechi blood filled his nostrils as he moved to examine the omega.

Sitting on her cheek was the smallest of cuts, blood slowly beading along the line of the slice. Within the second Muzan noticed the small injury, a greedy mouth formed along his hand. The elongated tongue quickly stretching out and slowly laving over the gathered blood with an apparent groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest from the taste.

His pleasured sound only seemed to frighten the omega more, whimpering out and beginning to cry from the terror. It was understandable, she had been in the cage for an unknown time and now was listening to the sound of an unknown assailant flavor her blood. With a quick motion the blindfold was pulled away, revealing (e/c) eyes that were filled with delicate tears and horror.

Her gaze became fixed on the bright red eyes of the predator in front of her, body falling completely still. Much like the way an injured fawn would freeze upon seeing the open jaws of a bear. The body of the soft omega seemed to curl in on itself, as if she were trying to seem as small as possible all without looking away.

He lifted his free hand towards her and gripped her ornate metal muzzle despite her frightened sounds and slow shaking of her head back and forth. She cringed and closed her eyes tightly as his hand gripped the clasp of the muzzle that held it on.

For a moment, things seemed to stand still in baited anticipation of what the demon king would do next. All upper moons keenly awaited their sire's next move as it would determine the fate of the omega they all were interested in. Wanting to get their hands on her if he allowed her to live, or wanting a piece of her if he chose to consume her.

A soft click of metal could be heard in the profound silence as the clasp of the muzzle was disconnected.

~~0~~

You warily watched the frightening man remove the muzzle you wore, seeing how hungrily he looked at you the entire time. He seemed to be contemplating you, much like many others would when first coming into contact with you. The man- or monster, would be more accurate- suddenly grinned, hand gripping your neck and slowly lifting you up.

Even with how you struggled, the man seemed to have no problem holding you until he was fully standing. His expression became more fierce as the veins in his face became more pronounced, tongue slowly dragging over his lips. After a moment he lowered you so your feet were on the ground, no longer holding you off the ground but still holding you in place.

"You are a truly unfortunate human. Luckily for you, I intend to keep you for the time being. You staying alive or not will be determined by your actions."

~~~~~~~~

You had been taken to a large ornate bed that no doubt belonged to the demonic alpha that broke your chains but left your cuffs. From the way he stared at you, you felt like you were being appraised much in the way one would appraise a meal. A yelp escaping your lips as you were thrown down on the soft surface.

In seconds you felt the silk that held your clothing together rip open, the ornate kimono falling open. Your body was completely left exposed to the intense gaze of the man, you had been dressed for meeting several new mates who were top members of the demon slayers. Instead it seemed the demons found you and decided to keep you for the time being.

Part of you was terrified to fight back as you didn't wish to anger the demon that took you to bed. Based off of his scent, you knew you were dealing with an alpha of great strength and willpower. The alpha himself seeming to be above other alphas that you had caught the scents of whenever one would pass through your village. He was clearly the one others answered to as they had gotten out of his way rather quickly when he decided to drag you to his chambers.

You tried to keep your thighs pressed together to give yourself some kind of protection, but the demon was quick to pry them open. His gaze was intense and you felt your body warm in response to how he stared at your exposed figure. A whimper from you seemed to break the trance he was in as his eyes flicked up to look at you for several seconds.

"And still, you are afraid. Tell me, Omega, did the humans you lived amongst even give you a name, or have you always been Omega?"

"My name," you struggled to keep the fear out of your voice as you answered the alpha demon, "it's (Y/n), (L/n)(Y/n)."

"(Y/n)? I am Kibutsuji Muzan, king of demons. You have gained my attention, (Y/n), quite dangerous indeed. I expect you to be an obedient omega, understand?"

"Ye-yes, I understand, Alpha."

"Good."

You whined softly as one of his hands came up to palm your soft chest as if appraising it like fruit. His bright red eyes gleaming in interest as he observed you trying to sit still for him and let him continue what he wanted. Clearly you were a high tier omega as you were so obedient and did exactly what the alpha told you to do.

The village you grew up in must have trained you to be a good omega, taking the word of an alpha as law. In any case, he was quite pleased to have such a treasure in his grasp. He vaguely considered keeping the omega for himself, but he knew the way the upper moons stared, even Akaza showed clear interest.

An omega would certainly be a unique reward and incentive to push the upper moons further. Beyond just that, using the unique human omega sent could throw off the slayers in such a way there would be no one left to stand against the demon king.

[greensimp]

Gyutaro x Reader:

He nearly kills you. Regrets it immediately.

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Canon!Gyutaro x gn!Reader

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: violence, angst, threats of violence, vulgar language

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You scoff and glare up at your partner with annoyance.

“Gyutaro, it’s not a big deal!”

The demon you’re arguing with stands above you, a frustrated scowl painting his features. Bringing a hand up to the side of his face, he growled and began scratching at himself.

“Yes it is, damnit! Do you realize how fucking dangerous that was?! What if I wasn’t around to get you away from there?!”

You balled your fists and stomped your foot childishly, indignation evident in your stance.

“I didn’t need your help! I was fine on my own! I’ve survived on my own a lot longer that I’ve had you around!”

Anger bubbled up in Gyutaro’s chest at your infuriating naivety. This wasn’t some stroll you took a little way outside of Yoshiwara. The little stunt you pulled tonight could have ended your life.

What did you do?

You left his territory entirely. The only reason he knew about it was because he spotted you speaking to an unfamiliar man from the shadows hours before. It wasn’t unlike you to socialize with strangers, but Gyutaro knew from the start that something about him wasn’t “genuine.”

So he stalked you. He stalked you until that man led you so far away from the Kyogoku house that only the quiet noises of the forest could be heard.

What the hell were you thinking?

If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. This lowly demon was luring you to his feeding grounds. Gyutaro could read the overzealous and smug confidence all over the worm’s face. Despite smelling him and Daki’s scent, he thought he could pick off a couple humans for himself.

Unfortunately for this little bug, he couldn’t have chosen a worse human to prey upon.

When it was apparent that the demon was about to make its move, it turned around and froze, practically pissing himself as the kanji-filled eyes of Upper Moon Six bored down upon him from behind the human he lured. You were confused at first before turning around to see what he was so scared of.

Oh.

“Goin’ somewhere? Y’know, its rude to be taking off with other people’s things, cretin.”

The pathetic demon tried to shake his hands in front of him and scurry away.

“I-I’m so s-sorry sir, I d-didn’t know this one w-was y-“

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before a hand wrapped itself around his mouth and jaw, crushing it in painfully.

“I don’t recall asking for your pathetic apology, whelp.”

Neither you or the demon saw Gyutaro move. It was like he was behind you one moment, then crushing the demon’s face the next.

He was pissed. Blindingly so.

You winced as a disgusting cracking sound reverberated through the forest. Gyutaro had drove the demon’s head so far into the ground that it made a crater. It wouldn’t be regenerating from that by sunrise.

Your legs felt weak as you stared at the blood. Then, Gyutaro rose to his feet and turned to you, his normal scowl now clearly on edge and splattered with blood.

“We’re going home. Now.”

…

You may have survived all this time, but you also had your beauty and luck on your side. Gyutaro had neither. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t born yesterday. You’re too comfortable with the knowledge of demons existing. You’re not cautious enough.

The room became deadly silent.

His scratching and growling ceased, with the only sounds being the ever-hastening blood rushing through your ears.

Your nerves were on edge, Gyutaro’s sudden silence freaking you out more than his display of anger earlier.

“Gyutaro…?”

He didn’t reply right away, only slowly and deliberately lowering his arm to his side.

You furrowed your brows and huffed.

“Oh, so now I’m getting the silent treatment?”

You were about to continue provoking him until you saw the veins and flesh under the skin of his forearms begin to writhe and pulse. You took a step back, now suddenly nervous.

“H-hey, what’re you doing?”

“I don’t think you understand how much danger you’re in right now.”

Two growths began emerging from Gyutaro’s hands.

“W-what do you mean?!”

Another step back, but this time, Gyutaro mirrored you with a step forward.

“You think this a world where you can just walk around and trust anyone you meet? There are things out there. Things much scarier than me. And you think you can just throw yourself out there for them to take you from me?”

The writhing flesh in his hands now took the distinct shape of... sickles?

The weight of the situation now dawned on you. Your eyes slowly widened in raw fear as he took another firm step your way. Your breath faltered, your fight or flight response automatically causing you to freeze, despite wanting to run.

His vision was blurred with rage, he didn’t care that you were terrified of him in that moment. The only thing going through his mind was that he needed to instill the fear of demons in you that you needed. You needed to know that things like him are hiding a side of themselves that only doomed humans ever get to see.

He loves you too much to let you die.

You finally gained control of your legs (barely). Of course, the second you tried to stumble backwards, you slipped and fell straight on your ass. Still, you desperately scoot yourself back, whimpering and breathing heavily as he menacingly stepped closer to you.

“I-I’m sorry Gyu! P-please don’t hurt me!”

Your pleas didn’t get though to him. He was in fight mode. His only instinct being to protect the people he loves. It just so happened that his instincts were being a bit counterproductive.

You squeaked when your back hit the wall.

Your pupils dilated and tears fell from your eyes. You barely recognized the monster in front of you. It was like the gentle giant you fell in love with traded bodies with a pure evil.

Whatever point he wanted to get across to you, it worked.

Oh. It worked.

A razor sharp point prodded at you under your chin tauntingly. A sickening, wretched giggle came from his throat.

You felt your heart jump in your throat as you stared death in the eyes.

“Do you understand, now? Do you fear, death? I bet you do, love.”

Laughter followed his taunts as he pressed the blade deeper.

“BROTHER! WHAT’RE YOU DOING?!”

A feminine voice practically screeched from the doorway.

As if someone flipped a switch, Gyutaro’s tunnel vision cleared. The fog of anger and spite dissipated into painful clarity.

His sickening grin fell instantly, confusion flooding his mind as to why you were looking at him like a cornered animal.

Then, his stomach practically dropped to the floor when he realized what he was holding to your throat.

He jerked his sickle back and trembled, his eyes widening in horror at what he’d done to you.

If he had broken your skin… it would have certainly cut your life short. The poison that laces his blades is thousands of times more potent than the deadliest snakes of the world.

You brought a hand to your throat and sobbed, falling to your side.

He just stared at his sickle and shook, stepping away from you.

He didn’t even notice Daki darting past him to get to you.

“Why did you do that, brother?!”

His eyes snapped to his sister’s scathing glare.

“I-I-“

Another step back.

He almost killed you.

He’s pathetic.

He’s worthless.

He doesn’t deserve you.

You’re scared of him now.

You got what you wanted, Gyutaro. Now they’re scared of you.

Now they hate you.

Before Daki could yell at him again, he darted out of the room.

…

Even Daki couldn’t find Gyutaro for hours. She’s never seen her brother shaken up this bad and she had no idea what to do. When you told what happened, she sort of flipped at your stupidity, too. Although not as… murder-y. She understood why Gyutaro would be cross with you, but she was still surprised that he’s go so far as to traumatize you. She knew better than anyone that he’d never even dream of killing you.

She brought you some food and water before setting out into the night to find Gyutaro again, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Now that you’d calmed down, the hurt finally sunk in. Why would he do this? Did he really love you? If Daki hadn’t interrupted… would he have truly done it.

His maniacal laughter played in your mind like a broken record, causing you to cringe and shiver. The mouth that had uttered such sweet words to you… used to taunt you. To make you feel like prey.

A small creak in the doorway caused you to jump in your skin. You were still very on edge.

And the figure in it did not help to calm you.

Gyutaro’s face was shrouded in shadow, his mouth in a pursed frown.

The air grew thick with tension as he just stood there.

Then, he took a small step in, which had you involuntarily jump backwards in fear.

Your reaction to his presence made his chest feel tight. Guilt practically strangled him by the neck. He wanted you to be afraid of demons… not him.

But he is a demon.

A pathetic, filthy demon.

When he took another step into the room, something caught your eye that made your breath hitch.

In the light of the oil lamps in your room, a faint sheen of wetness trailed down Gyutaro’s cheek.

Was…

Was he crying?

You’d never seen him so much as sniffle, let alone cry.

You finally feel the guilt oozing from him, your stomach sinking.

Before you could speak, he collapsed to his knees and stared at you through misty eyes. You noticed a slight tremble in them.

“I- I’m so sorry-“

He’s pathetic.

He took a deep, shaky breath and let out the most sorrowful wail you’ve ever heard from a creature. He hunched over, bringing his hands to the sides of face and digging his nails into the skin.

“FORGIVE ME”

Pathetic. Worthless.

You just stared in complete awe at the heaving man in front of you. The display of vulnerability had your heart in a vice grip, whatever apprehension you held for Gyutaro fleeing your conscious like a gust of wind.

He was a broken man.

He was at your mercy.

He was groveling to you.

A pair of arms squeezing his head paused his crying. The warmth of your embrace came as an utter shock.

“I understand, Gyutaro. And… I do fear death.”

You echoed his words from earlier in a wobbly tone.

You fluttered your eyes shut and squeezed him to your chest.

“I’m scared of demons. That much is true.”

A single tear fell from your eye and you hiccuped.

“But…”

Memories of Gyutaro holding you in his arms during a firework display, memories him lovingly petting your hair as you snuggle into him, memories of him making love to you, all flowed through your head.

What you saw earlier wasn’t your Gyutaro.

“I could never stay afraid of you.”

Gyutaro’s breath hitched as your words pierced his heart.

He really didn’t deserve you.

Here you are, just forgiving him after he tried to kill you only hours before.

He sobbed and squeezed his eyes shut before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his head into your stomach.

He didn’t deserve you.

He didn’t deserve you.

But somehow…

He still has you.

And he’s never letting go.