Bolin

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muzan with reader who's a werewolf that is too afraid to tell their lover about who they really are? that was until one full moon night reader turns despite their best efforts to fight it?

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You and Muzan met up almost every night but every full moon you would make an excuse not to meet up

You knew he was the demon king but he didn't know you were a werewolf

At first Muzan didn't want to pry, You were the first thing that genuinely made him feel happy and he wasn't going to mess it up because of his curiosity

It didn't last long tho

You forgot that the next night that you will meet up will be a full moon by the time you realized it you and Muzan were already hugging

You could feel yourself start to change in his grasp. You tried to get away but he wouldn't let you.

"I wanna see." He said as he held you tighter.

"No you don't." You said through gritted teeth. It was starting to hurt but being in his arm brought you at least some comfort.

You felt yourself start to blackout as your body was succumbing to the effects of the moon, as much as you tried to fight it you turned, blacking out in the process.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, your face buried into your lover's chest, his arms wrapped around your waist while his head rested on top of yours.

Muzan being Muzan sensed that you were awake.

"You could've just told me." He said, his voice held no anger. Muzan took one of the hands at your waist and rubbed your back while the other went you the back of your head.

"Sorry." You wrapped your arms around his neck and nestled your head in his neck.

"You tore my suit to shreds."

"Sorry."

"No more secrets." he demanded.

"Okay."

He lowered the hand on you head to you chin and raised your face to look at him.

"I love you Y/n." He didn't wait for you to respond as he claimed your lips as his own.

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King of demons Child

I made this in 2022 idk why i never posted it

demon slayer masterlist

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Lady Tamyo was the one to bring you to Ubuyahiski saying she wanted you to be 'more humane' and go against your father's teachings.

He accepted. To teach the child humanity.

He introduced you to the hashira much to their dismay but they respected his opinion and the fact that you were a clueless child.

Shinobu was the one looking after you. Teaching you how fragile human life is and how quick you can lose it.

"What are you doing." One of your many questions that annoyed the girl to no end, but it would be a benefit to teach right from wrong.

"I'm making medicine for the 3 slayers that came the other day." She replied with her signature smile.

"Father told me people die because they are not strong enough, so why help them?" Shinobu was not shocked, you were raised by the first demon after all.

"We help so they can get stronger and when they get stronger they can stand up for those who can't themselves. It a good thing, so why don't you come help me." She said extended her arms to you, which you excepted as she pulled you on her lap.

Giving you directions on how to prepare the 3 cups of herbal tea, placing them on a tray then carrying to the three sword men.

You expected adults like the flame or sound hashira (you also go by them a lot), so when you saw kids who killed one of the lower moons you were surprised.

"I thought they were dead." You whispered to the insect pillar.

"You three seem to be doing better." Shinobu chuckled leaving you by the door as she went and checked on each of the children before urging you into the room to give out the tea.

"AHH WHY WOULD YOU BRING A DEMON IN HERE." The blonde screeched which irritated you.

"Why so loud." You complained but Shinobu placed her arm on your shoulder and led you to Tanjiro's bedside table. You placed the teas on the table and grabbed one to give to Tanjiro, who was staring at you.

"Take it." You thrust the cup at him which he hesitantly took.

"He is my little assistant for the three of you, he won't bite if you don't bark." She tried to calm down Zenitsu but it just made him more nervous.

You took the 2-remaining cups, walked over to Zenitsu's bed and did the same but he refused to take it.

"I'M NOT DRINKING THAT WHO KNOWS WHAT HE PUT IN IT." He screeched again. You groaned at the loud noise and looked back at Shinobu. You wanted nothing more than to shut him up but that would go against the morals that everyone has been teaching you.

You sighed, placed his cup on the table, and moved on to Inosuke. He accepted the cup with no complaints, he didn't even bat an eye. Walking back over to Tanjiro's bed you took the tray and began to walk out of the room when Shinobu stopped you.

"I think you're forgetting something."

"Hmm?"

"Introduce yourself."

"Oh my name is Y/n Kibustuji." You bowed and left before you could see their reactions.

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Request for kny child reader

Hello! Can I request the hashira's meeting us again after we went with akaza + muzan when he found out we meet them again. If you don't want to do this request tho that's fine. (Sorry if I miss spelled anything)

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You found a way to sneak out and come back without anyone noticing. You would ask Muzan for a day to yourself in the flower room and of course, you wouldn't go there, instead, you would go to Tengen's estate as soon as the moon came up. After a while, they started to expect you and leave out food if they decided to go to sleep early.

Sometimes you would talk to Gyomei and Genya while they were about to go in for the night. Giyuu was always busy so you barely ever saw him, but Shinobu hardly ever slept. She reminded you of your father, the way he would slave over test tubes in hopes of finding something that was seemingly impossible.

Mitsuri and Obanai were rare to find but when you did it seems like you would find them together more after the death of Rengoku. Muichirou is your favorite to go by, he treats you like a little sibling

-------

Akaza

he may be a demon but he isn't heartless, he is more intact with his human emotions than anyone else

he could tell that upon your return you were different

Normally you would get on everyone's nerves until Muzan stopped you. You still did that but there were moments when he would catch you staring off into space

You also started talking to him less

He knew you would leave almost every day and he just let you. He couldn't bare to take another punishment from Muzan plus you attitude improved everyday

--------

Muzan

He is your father above all else, he wasn't just going to let you go but at the same time you making a bond with the Hashira could be useful down the line

He didn't like the idea of using his child like that but if it meant the both of you could be immortal than he would do anything

He would have a demon follow you until you got into any estate

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𝒃𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅— diluc x fem!reader. 2.1k. ao3

yours and diluc's love has captured the hearts of teyvat, thanks to the steambird and the kamera. in my head this takes place in another fic im working on so the reader only has one arm.

You marry in a simple gown of silk. There’s enough heft of the silk, as it spills around your arms and babbles down your body like a brook, spilling onto the floor, to show off its price. Your flowers drip from the bouquet in your hands– They drip, not droop. Cecilias and lilies, nothing more than an extension of your beauty. 

Your ladyship, the official bits of it, are donned with a strong kiss. One where Diluc has his hand on your lower back and the other on the side of your face– the side that isn’t being photographed. 

Three photos come from the wedding: One of you walking down the aisle: cobblestones lining outside the winery. Lined by simple flowers, a small party gathered to witness. Two, of the kiss. Swooped, leg slightly lifted, completely and contently at Diluc’s mercy. Three, of your head tossed back in laughter and Diluc’s warm gaze trained intently on you, a fond expression on his face. 

It’s later that month when Mona presents you with the newspaper. She had, after all, advised you on when the perfect day to get married would be. All for a hefty price, of course. But if luck couldn’t be bought, you could certainly try. The front page, however, is something like a gossip magazine. MARRIED FOR THE STARS. Step into the whimsical wedding of the century. 

And it’s those three photos. You hide your face behind the newspaper. 

“You know, you should be pleased. People pay thousands of mora for a chance to be right there,” Mona titters, crossing her arms. “You could at least act grateful.” 

“Oh, Mona… We didn’t need a cover page. We didn’t even need it to be broadcasted!” You protest, though there’s a girlish fluttering in your chest. 

“It’s not like anyone else of such caliber is getting married,” Mona huffs. “You should be honored!” 

Diluc is beet red when he sees the cover page. He hides himself behind his hands, fingers hiding under his fringe. “This is mortifying,” He bemoans. 

“I say Donna crying,” Kaeya says, with a shit eating grin and he looks over the front page, turning to page three for the full article. “Just absolutely inconsolable.” 

“Poor thing,” You hum, sufficiently less embarrassed since Diluc seemed to be embarrassed plenty for the both of you. “Maybe we should get it framed.” 

“Hang it up in Angel’s Share,” Kaeya agrees. “Right next to the collection of best wine awards. What do you think, Diluc?” 

“I don’t think it needs to be hung up,” Diluc says, muffled by his hands. 

“I’m going to hang it up,” Kaeya says. “I’ll get a fresh copy from Mona, so you can hold onto this one. Has Adelinde seen it yet?” 

“Yes,” Diluc says, still muffled. 

“I think everyone’s seen it,” You chime in, grinning as you reach over to tuck a strand of Diluc’s hair behind his ear. His face is certainly warm. 

It’s to no surprise that the weddings that follow for the next few years are inspired by the nation of love. That there’s thousands of attempts to grab the same photos, but none of them have the same candidness to that first kiss you shared with Diluc as husband and wife. None of the dresses have the same water-like texture, none of the flowers are fresh in the same way. 

It could be said for money. But the wind was a perfect whisper, rippling through your gown and your hair, keeping Diluc’s hair out of his face. Rumor was that the Anemo Archon favored the Ragnvindr’s love so greatly he made a personal appearance. 

When you’re invited to Fontaine– When Diluc is invited to Fontaine for a wine festival, he grumbles about it. About the journey, about how he has to leave home for months on end. Even though you’re coming with him, he still grumbles. He’s fond of his manor, he’s fond of the way that you’ve bled into every aspect of it. Brightening it with light colors and gauzy curtains, fresh-scented candles. 

He grumbles less, because you’re so excited to go. You’ve listened to your tailor speak for hours about how beautiful the land of water is, about how the art is so rich and the food richer. You’ve listened to nearly every ballet and every opera on the gramophone. And your tailor has treated you so well, to fashions typical and atypical of the nation. 

(His business had boomed too, after the wedding dress. However, he saved his best work for the Ragnvindrs. He’d be lying if he wasn’t hoping to make another splash in his hometown.) 

Fontaine treats the Ragnvindrs kindly. They have first class tours, with nearly everything included. A villa instead of a hotel room. Nightly escapades to the finest shows Fontaine has to offer. For your first journey to the Opera, you’re buzzing with excitement. 

The gown that’s been made for you in warm blue, with shimmers and hugs your figure. It’s a far cry from the simple dresses you wear back home: modest and breathable. With this one, you wrap a shawl around your shoulders and stand in front of the mirror, doing last minute adjustments. 

Diluc is too filled with energy to sit still for so long, focused on just one thing. He hides it well, and age has slowed him down considerably from when he was nothing but a young firecracker. He’s just gotten better at hiding it. At least, he’ll do it for you. He comes up behind you, resting a hand on your hip. The accents on his suit complement your dress, his hair pulled back in a bow of the same fabric. 

He leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your shoulder, hand sliding to rest securely over your stomach. His other trails down your arm to hold your hand, gently adjusting your engagement ring, which glints in the lamplight. 

“Do everything with this hand,” Diluc says, hunched over so his cheek can rest on your shoulder, facing towards your neck. Here, he has perfect access to the scent of your perfume. 

“I don’t think anyone is mistaking me as single,” You reply. Not when the lovable oaf of your husband is draped over you. Not when he stands so close to you the two of you might as well wear the same concoction of perfume and cologne. 

Diluc hums and straightens up. 

“Well. Let me escort you, my lady,” Diluc says, giving a slight bow. 

You respond with a beaming smile and a small curtsey. 

Diluc captures your lips in a kiss, pulling away with furrowed brows. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask. 

“You’re just too beautiful,” Diluc replies. 

This time, the newspaper comes much faster. You’re on page three, under a fashion column. MONDSTAT’S PRINCE CHARMING AND CINDERELLA. The article speaks of how such patrons of the arts were so much more patrons of each other, madly in love by gaze alone. 

You’re whisked away to the gala: the actual event you’ve come for. The finest gown is for that night: off the shoulder with large sleeves, tailored and glittering, beaded details accentuated by the diamonds around your neck. There’s a frown on Diluc’s face as he gets ready, does up his buttons and does up his tie. 

When prompted on what soured his mood, he simply replies: “I don’t want to socialize.” 

You laugh, tinkling bells through the room. 

“What?” Diluc asks. “They like you so much more than they like me.” 

“Oh, but you’re the one they want to talk to,” You say, coming over to him. You smooth your hand over his lapel. “I think they just like looking at me.” 

“They should talk to you instead,” Diluc replies. “You’re so much more interesting than I am.” 

“And share me with the world?” You tilt your head. 

“Oh, good point.” Diluc slides his hand back around your waist. The dress truly is something to marvel. Such a marriage of Fontaine’s couture and Mondstadt's simplicity. Diluc’s gaze can’t leave your waist, can’t leave your chest. “Good point.” 

The Steambird gets a quip from you that night, a bright eyed, pink haired girl with a camera approaches you and Diluc, begging for a photo. She has many questions, and expresses such to you, but will only ask you for one. And to forgive her because it’s not wine related. (“Good,” Diluc had said, mostly to himself and you, “I’ve spoken enough about wine.” Charlotte had beamed at that.) 

“Everyone’s been calling you Teyvat’s true fairytale,” She says, recording device poised. “Do you have any advice for those of us trying to find our own fairytale?” 

You laugh, and look up at Diluc, placing a hand on his chest. In turn, his hand sits dutifully at your lower back. He looks down at you, a fond expression on his face. 

“I don’t think there’s a script to it,” You say, tearing your gaze away from Diluc. “I think it just happens.” 

“You can’t be looking for it,” Diluc adds on, his gaze never leaving you. 

RECIPE FOR A FAIRYTALE

A Mondstadt love story is not unheard of. If anything, it has permeated our childhoods, with so many famous tales coming from the land of romance. Growing up, these tales of princes and princesses, who find true love after a fearsome trial of strength, bravery and wit seem so out of reach, as if they linger as stories painted in constellations. Gorgeous to gaze at, charming to consume, delightful to dream about. 

There must be something in the Mondstadt air, whether it be the scent of windwheel asters or the Anemo Archon’s own blessing, given that Teyvat’s own fairytale hails from the tranquil nation. That Ragnvindrs won the hearts of Teyvat when they got married. Sources at the time revealed photos of the event, two lovers intertwined in their own world, speckled by the sunlight filtering through the translucent clouds in the sky. Their vows promised a lifetime of never-ending love, and their kiss was sealed with a warm brush of wind. 

Their love has not run dry. Tonight, at the Festin de Boire, Diluc Ragnvindr and his lady, Ophelia, continue their tour of Fontaine. Dressed by Fontaine’s own Herbert Agustin, the two are fit for on-stage royalty. Diluc’s suit is finely tailored, a warm, dark brown that highlights his cabernet eyes and acts as logs on a hearth for his flaming mane. Tonight, it’s tamed by a ribbon the same shade as his wife’s gown. A stunning, off the shoulder champagne piece with sleeves that billow out and come together around the wrist, embroidered by pearls. Tonally, it matches the bubbling drinks in their hands. It would be remiss to not discuss the stunning set of diamonds that sprawled across her collarbone in long droplets. 

The banquet attendees are just as smitten with the Ragnvindrs as I am. Witnessing the attentiveness of Diluc and the grace of Ophelia, it’s hard to not raise my own crumbling standards when it comes to a partner. Not once did I see his hand leave her waist, lower back or cheek for longer than a few breaths. 

When I spoke with them for a brief moment, it was like gazing into a snowglobe, where a prince and princess stand, eternally in love. Accentuated by the quartet playing, the two of them struggled to pull their gazes away from each other. Truth be told, the two looked so stunning up close, I struggled to pull my own gaze away. 

I asked our lovers the question on all of our minds, one that circulates my own to no end. Do they have any advice on how we can find our own fairytale? 

Ophelia rested her hand on his broad chest, a smile on her face. Diluc’s hand curved around her waist, resting on the bottom of her bodice before the dress expanded into its fullness. It is easy to imagine them back at their winery, standing in their garden in the same position. The same love painted on their faces, only with crystal flies circling about them instead of servers carrying plates of hor d'oeuvres and glasses of wines. 

“I don’t think there’s a script to it,” Ophelia told me, though her words floated up in the direction of her husband. She further confirmed: “I think it just happens.” 

Diluc, who had told me he was glad for the opportunity to discuss matters other than wine (and, if I must make my own conclusions, was euphoric to discuss his wife), added the big secret: “You can’t be looking for it.” 

To think that such a cherished romance simply fell into their laps is almost astonishing. To see such a fairytale, to learn that it came without slaying any dragons, that it fell like an autumn leaf or a ripe bulle fruit… It is the thing of dreams. And perhaps a reminder that the best things in life come to us when we aren’t looking. 

👋 testing testing!

Does it work?

Thank you. this works now can you please message my direct messages please.

Alot of people asked the same thing so I decided to make one big one so as I used this as a reference

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Charlie called everyone into the living room for a team-building exercise.

"Before we begin, I wanna thank everyone for coming. Today we are going to talk about our feelings." Charlie happily sat as everyone sat on the floor in a circle. She was really excited because she got you and Alastor to participate. (Alastor was standing ain't no way he was sitting on the floor)

"For some of you, it seems like your life is still affecting your death. sooo, we will try and scratch the surface of that trauma with.... Dolls." She squealed as she pulled out a bunch of ragdolls from behind her.

"You don't have to use the dolls btw." Vaggie commented with Charlie whispering 'but it's encouraged' right after.

"Why don't you go first y/n." Alastor said with the same wicked grin he always had, "You had a lot to say yesterday."

"Oh fuck off." You flipped him off, "You of all people know my background. If you find it so interesting then you tell it."

"Don't be like that, It's your story to tell not mine." He grabbed a few dolls from Charlie and gave them to you but you didn't use them.

You sighed as you started your short story, "My dad was a drunk jerk with anger issues, my mom was also a drunk and Alastor's tailor. Alastor practically to me and my siblings in annnnd the rest is history."

"That's it?" Angel questioned as he leaned towards you, clearly wanted more details.

"That's it. plain and simple."

"So you see him as your father figure."

You didn't say anything as you looked down at the dolls.

"I don't like talking about this." You tried to say with a slightly hostile tone but your voice betrayed you as your throat started to swell.

"I-it's okay." Charlie placed a hand on your shoulder," Who wants to go next."

Angel volunteered and tried to lighten the mood with an erotic story of how he started..... doing what he was doing.

He successfully changed the subject and made every disguested with what he decided to share. In that moment you saw his progress. He came far and you wanted to thank him for it

---------

Later that night you were in your room midlesly scrolling on the phone Charlie gave you when there was a knock on your door.

You got up to open the door.

There stood Alastor with a surprisingly warm smile.

"Ya know when I met you, you were such a sad kid. You hardly ever made a sound, it scared me. A child like you didn't deserve a family that made you feel that way. I wanted to become your family." He paused for a moment to study your expression before continuing, "I know it's a bit selfish but I'm glad you called dad, my (child/son/daughter)."

You felt the years fall from your eyes but you didn't care as you hugged the man in front of you.

"Thanks, Dad."

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I just realized Cheri Bob was were Angel started before joining the hotel. 　

art by @ghostly-one

NGL, I liked your oneshots of the Yuzuya fantasy au. Can you draw two things, one of each possible ending? If you can't thats fine. Thank you in advance!

Yo thank you so much I really apreaciate it! — Also legit I was listening to the newest episode when I got the ask

Also for an insert of the listener/reader I just used my self insert oc cuz I wasn't sure who to put there—

So the fluff ending :

And the not so fluff ending :

More of my art

Also the oneshot if ya wanna

trio’s reaction to former upper moon!reader protecting them from another upper moon who suddenly appeared, while they’re all injured and exhausted?

part 1

demon slayer masterlist ✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

In the time that you've been gone you have risen to rank 4 right under Akaza, the reason why you're a demon in the first place. In your time as a demon, you set up a plan to get information to Ubuyashiki and the moons, which are ranked higher than you, weaknesses. You don't know how but Muzan either doesn't know or doesn't care. You try your best to stay away from him anyway. Now its time for the final battle

Uppermoon 1 was going to be the hardest to take down. In strength he was the closest to Muzan, you stood no chance.

Even if it takes your life you'll gladly do it for your found family.

"SHINOBU KOCHO IS DEAD" A crow that flew around squawked

"shit" You thought of your last conversation with her which wasn't much but a check-up. You never had much of a mother she was the closest thing to it, even if you were almost the same age she was way more mature.

Now was your time to betray Muzan.

You entered Kokushibo's domain

"What are you doing here Y/n?"

"looking for demon slayer. I see you're busy." You look around at Genya trying to regenerate, Tokito about to get stabbed and Sanemi running in.

In short, you came just in time.

"Y/n?!" Sanemi gasped in disbelief. You turned to him and smiled.

"I'm sorry but I can't explain right now, in short Master said its best if I only communicated to him. please don't be mad at me."

"Master, are you referring to the slayer crop." Kokushibo interjected while raising his sword.

You nodded raising yours as well.

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Sign of the Times (2)

part 1 —> here!!

Kyojuro Rengoku x wife!reader

a/n: guys i am so sorry i am so angsty lately and harry styles is also just stuck in my brain!!!! there is a spoiler warning in place and this chapter is a bit short. idk if a part 3 is needed but ive been thinking about this 😭😭😭

word count: <800

we can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here

The infinity castle was, well, infinite.

The stories passed down within your family really didn’t depict the magnitude of the situation.

Going into this battle, you had one thing in mind. Well, two things. Your son, who was nestled safely in the company of the former Flame Hashira. The old man grew into an amazing grandfather, after realizing the mistakes he made with his own children.

The other thought was of your husband.

‘What would Kyo say if he were here?’

In all honesty, you wanted nothing more to go home to your son. A living reminder of the beautiful life you once had.

So as you lay on the floor of the Infinity Castle after defeating Muzan, you look up to the ceiling.

You’re sure you can hear Tanjiro calling your name, or maybe it’s Giyuu? Definitely not Sanemi, as you two constantly clash. Then again, you have been getting along lately-

Your thoughts are stopped once you see a figure hovering over you.

The unmistakable yellow-red eyes and corresponding hair.

You blink once, twice, and a third time, yet he is still there.

Surely, you must be dead? Why else would he be here?

“K-Kyo?” You say as you sit up. You look around at the battlefield before you. Destruction is the best way to describe it. Observing the people in the distance who seem to be frozen in time, you turn your head back to your husband, standing there in all his glory.

“Kyojuro? Is this death?”

The man let out a hearty laugh. “No my dear, I’m afraid you aren’t ready for that yet!” You couldn’t stop the tears as they started flowing.

“I want to be ready! I want to be with you again!” Broken sobs come out of your mouth. “I know it’s selfish! I know our son is at home waiting for me! I don’t think I can do it without you, Kyojuro! I-I’m struggling so much and I need you to come back to me! Please come back to me!”

The man kneels forward, and gently places a calloused hand on your cheek. “My gorgeous flame. I understand what you are thinking. Your eyes meet, and for a fleeting moment, everything else seems to vanish. You lean into his hand and savor his warm touch, feeling as if he were really there with you.

“I’m so scared, Kyojuro.”

“Y/N,” you’re shocked by the sudden movement of him pulling you into his chest, “You are the bravest, and strongest fighter that I ever had the pleasure of knowing. You completed our goal, my flame. You kept the fires burning long enough to support your allies. And they are going to need you after this. Our son is going to need you.”

Having your ear up to his chest, you swear you can hear a faint heartbeat. “What about what I need?! You- You left me! Alone!” You began trying to escape his grasp, which only got tighter.

“And I will forever hold that burden, Y/N. It wasn’t an easy decision, but for our son to know his father died protecting others is enough closure for me.”

“Where is my closure?” You say, looking up at your husband. He smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m right here. I needed you to know how proud of you I am. Watching you play with our son and grow as a mother has made me swell with so much pride.” You sniffled into his uniform.

“Y/N. I am so grateful that you are the one to carry on my legacy. You have so much love to give in this world, and I will be waiting for you in the next one.”

Kyojuro finally let go, and stepped away from you.

“Be brave, and be strong. I know you can. And once your time comes, I will be there.”

“Please don’t go yet!” You scream, hand stretching out. He swiftly turns around and pulls your lips to his. His skin is just as warm as you remember it to be, and he rests his forehead on yours.

“It’s time for me to go. But remember my words, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you, even if you can’t see me.”