I'm Practically Giggling, Kicking My Feet With Excitement, And I Just Can't Tear My Eyes Away From This

A Haircut || Kyojuro Rengoku x reader

gif made by Cass - please credit us if you use the gif.

Summary: Flame Hashira is in desperate need of a haircut after returning from a successful mission.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1024

Pairing: Kyōjurō Rengoku x fem!Reader

Authors: Cass & Fenrir A/N: a creation I found on Instagram served as inspiration for this fic ❤️ ~ Cass

You knew he'd be late, really late, but that didn't keep you from waiting. All you wanted to do after returning from a mission not long ago was see your love and mentor.

Since everyone else at Rengoku estate had fallen asleep a long time ago, you decided to sit on the egawa and read the book you bought on your way back. The weather was pleasant, and the soft light from the lantern made the wait bearable.

Kyōjurō's heavy footsteps could be heard on the porch. He walked slowly to the door, trying not to wake anyone, until he noticed you, sitting comfortably on egawa. "Y/N, is it late and you're not sleeping?"

"I couldn't wait to see you in the morning. I just missed you too much," as you said this, you lifted your head from the book and blinked, your brows furrowed. You were used to seeing him return in poor health; fighting demons wasn't easy, but this was the first time Kyōjurō looked like that. He stood there in front of you, his left cheek cut and still bleeding slightly, but what surprised you the most was that the hair on the same side was cut in a strange way. With his hair so uneven, he looked odd. "What occurred?"

"Nothing special. As you know, demons can be nasty," he smiled and pressed his hand against his bleeding cheek. "Don't worry, my hair will regrow and the cut will heal."

"I've been worried about you since the first time I saw you," you told him as you rose to your feet. "Let's go inside and deal with this cut."

Rengoku followed you inside, albeit reluctantly. "It's not necessary, Y/N."

"It is necessary for me. It's still gushing," you told him as you rolled your eyes, sitting him on the tatami mats. "It needs to be cleaned and covered. It'll only take a second."

He sat in the room, expecting you to come back with something to clean the cut on his cheek.

You soon returned with a small box containing everything required to treat his injury. You pressed a disinfectant-soaked cotton ball against his cheek. "It's a shame it also got your hair..."

"Apparently, sharp claws can have a very wide reach," Kyōjurō joked, shaking his head slightly. "Don't be concerned, it'll grow back soon."

"You should get a haircut then," you concluded with a smile. "I'm not going to let you walk around like that."

"No," he said, shaking his head with a wide grin on his lips. "This gorgeous, magnificent hair isn't going anywhere."

"Kyo? I adore you and your hair, but you look ridiculous in this. Because the demon only got to the left side, I cut your hair a little on the right side to make it even," you shrugged slightly, finishing with the wound by bandaging it.

"Not going to happen," he said as he rose from his seat and crossed his arms across his chest. "You must obey my words, Y/N, I am your mentor."

You gave him a gentle facepalm before looking up at him. "You're also my partner, and I don't want you acting like this. Kyōjurō, that looks bad."

"It looks good, and please don't cut my hair with scissors."

It was difficult to believe what he was saying because his left side had a large chunk of hair missing while the other side was nice and long. You nodded softly, there was no need to argue with him about it at that hour. "If you insist."

"I'll agree to it if it makes you happy."

As you stood up, you smiled. "I'll go get some scissors and a comb. Don't be concerned. I'm not going to cut all of your hair. You will look just as good with short hair as you would with long."

When you left, he mocked your tone, saying, "As perfect as with long hair." Rengoku trusted you with all of his heart, no matter how unhappy he was with his decision.

You returned a few minutes later with a mirror and other items you required. "Sit down and allow me to work."

He complied with your request. "Just be cautious with it. My hair is the most beautiful in the world. When did you return, by the way? Do you have any sweet potatoes? I'd eat something delicious."

"They are, as Tengen would say, flamboyant. Don't worry, I'll be cautious," you sat down next to him and began to gently comb his hair. "I returned this evening, arriving earlier than expected. Thanks to your instruction, I believe I am making progress. Senjuro specially prepared some sweet potatoes for you."

"What a wonderful, wonderful news!" He exclaimed enthusiastically. "When we're finished, we'll have a nice meal to share while we tell stories."

"Oh yes. I'm starving because I waited for your return with my meal," you nodded, grabbing scissors. "Are you prepared?"

"No, but let's have it done, because I'm tired and hungry," Rengoku said.

"I promise to be cautious. I'm not going to cut off your ear. I think," you made a joke and kissed his cheek before beginning to work on his hair. It hurt to cut his hair because you loved it so much, yet it had to be done.

You made the back shorter while keeping the front even and longer. Of course, you didn't dare to touch his adorable ponytail. When you were finished, you patted his shoulder. "Are you ready to see the final result?"

"No, but I'd like to get it done. Please show me the results."

You sat in front of him, rolling your eyes, and picked up the mirror. "What are your thoughts?"

Kyōjurō examined his new hairstyle carefully in the mirror. Actually, it didn't look so bad, but he knew he'd need some time to adjust. "Approved. You did an excellent job."

With a wide smile on your lips, you blushed. "I'm overjoyed you like it. You look stunning!"

"Thank you," Kyōjurō said as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed his nose against yours. "You did an excellent job. Now! Let's eat something delicious!"

Treasured.

morning..

Disillusioned

Summary: Every time I tried to take a step closer, he took a step back. Falling in love with Bucky Barnes was easy, but the distance he kept between us was torture.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Angst, happy ending(?)

Warnings: Smut! And minor character death

Length: 3.5k

A/N: My love for Bucky/Sebastian Stan has inspired me to write again 💕 Enjoy (I hope)!

He was having a nightmare.

Bucky didn't often agree to stay the night - I suspected this was part of the reason why. I woke up to sounds of grunting and the loud grinding of his jaw, my bleary eyes adjusting to the view in front of me.

Moonlight illuminated his profile, his eyes shut and brow furrowed, a thin sheen of sweat on his face. He was still asleep, his fists clenching the sheets as I slowly extended a hand.

"Bucky," I whispered, my voice hoarse. I cleared my throat, touching his naked shoulder gingerly. "Bucky," I repeated louder.

He stirred then, eyes snapping open. He almost looked shocked to see me in bed with him, as if he'd forgotten where he was. He pushed himself to sit upright with a sharp inhale, jaw still clenched.

"Are you okay?" I asked, propping myself up with one elbow, concern laced through my voice despite the exhaustion.

"M'fine," Bucky replied in a tone that told me he was most definitely not fine. He wasn't even looking at me, his blue eyes looking at the wall, distant, as if he was recalling an unpleasant memory. Or as if he just didn't want to look at my face. "I gotta go."

"Now?" I glanced at my alarm clock. It wasn't even 4am.

"Yeah." Bucky stood up, and I blushed despite myself at his naked form. My cheeks burned further as I recalled the particularly heated session we had just a few hours ago, both of us collapsing into a sweaty mess. I had whispered a Please, can you stay? to him before I was lulled into sleep, surprised when he had simply grunted and stayed by my side.

"Wait, Bucky - " I reached out instinctively and held onto his right hand, which felt colder than his vibranium one when he almost instantly snatched it away. I faltered, biting down onto my lower lip. "Can we - what's the rush?"

This happened all the time. Whenever I was lucky enough to have Bucky fall asleep by my side, more often than not, he would wake up from the nightmares and just leave, no matter what the hour was. We had never even slept through a sunrise together.

"I have things to do," was his response, his eyes never once meeting mine.

I clutched the sheets against my torso, feeling the all-too familiar cold, creeping feeling in my chest. That feeling of rejection, the feeling of unhappiness when I remembered that Bucky and I weren't really anything, not really. Not quite friends, not quite lovers, and definitely not a couple. He had made that clear.

"Can we just talk for five minutes?" I asked quietly as Bucky hurried to get dressed, his clothes flung haphazardly around my bedroom.

"About what?"

Anything, I wanted to scream. What do you call it when you are so unbelievably in love with someone, so desperate to keep them in your life that you are willing to just be someone that they came to whenever they wanted some casual company, a warm body, some fun? The word I was searching for was "pathetic", probably.

"Do you want to talk about your nightmares?" I asked, picking my nails nervously. I watched as Bucky paused pulling on his shirt for just a millisecond, almost as if he was caught off guard by my query.

"I don't talk about them," Bucky said after a moment, shaking his head.

"Don't you think you might feel better if you -"

"Look," Bucky said sharply, turning to face me. His stern expression softened ever so slightly at the sight of my face, which no doubt looked as torn and pitiful as I felt in that moment. I knew that I had no place to act as if I could help him in any way - what could I possibly do for him?

Bucky's lips formed a tight smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I appreciate the concern. But there's nothing you can do to help me."

Right. Just as I thought.

For some reason, this statement almost made me want to cry. It was another subtle reminder of that tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, I had some small weighting to Bucky's life. Maybe I wasn't just a girl that Bucky came to when he wanted to let off some steam. A spark that was always being snuffed out like a candle.

Bucky left quietly and without so much as a goodbye. The room felt so much emptier without him in it.

------ x ------

Sometimes, I felt that Bucky might genuinely care for me.

Whenever he came to see me, it wasn't always just sex. Sometimes we would spend time together doing things like a normal couple might do - he would help me with random errands, have dinner with me, sometimes even tell me stories from his past, a glimpse into his history.

But it was hot and cold with him. Whenever I dared to let myself believe that Bucky was opening up to me, he would suddenly slam the door shut and leave me out in the cold again.

Bucky Barnes made me weak. I was so willing to give my heart to this man who didn't even know what to do with it.

We were in my apartment on a Sunday afternoon as he tinkered about with the plumbing in my bathroom, offering to help me fix it when he saw that it was leaking. I watched with a small smile on my face as I handed him various tools, watching his face scrunched up in concentration.

My phone lit-up, chiming suddenly with six consecutive notifications. Bucky saw my grimace as I glanced at the screen and switched it to silent.

"What's that?" He asked, grunting as he inspected the bathroom pipes, turning his back to me.

"Um." I paused, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. "This guy that my sister is trying to set me up with. She gave him my number and he's been pestering me." I tried to keep my voice light hearted, but the words fell out like lead. My statement was true, but I couldn't care less about this guy - I couldn't even remember his name. I was just playing the childish tactic of trying to make Bucky feel jealous.

Bucky's hands stilled, just for a second, before they resumed their movement. He couldn't have sounded less interested if he tried when he responded, "Give it a go."

I blinked, my gut twisting.

"What?"

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe dating someone will do you some good."

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach. I didn't know why I was always so keen to self-inflict this pain. It was as if I needed to constantly remind myself that Bucky just didn't want me in that way, until I would get the message.

"Yeah. Maybe."

------ x ------

When Bucky fucked me that night, he held me tighter than usual.

His forehead pressed against mine, our lips pressed together in an angry kiss, his tongue wet and hot in my mouth. He thrust inside me again and again and again, hips snapping as his hands circled themselves around my wrists, holding them above my head.

His mouth opened and he gasped, my back arching with pleasure as his cock continued to slide in and out of me, searching for release.

He came inside me with a moan, his mouth latching onto my neck to leave a hickey, marking my skin, his chest shuddering on top of mine as he came down from his high.

As usual, he left shortly after despite my quiet request for him to stay.

------ x ------

When my friends asked me how I would be spending my birthday, I lied and said I just wanted to spend it alone. Alone with Bucky.

I was delighted when I asked Bucky if he would have dinner with me on my birthday. He nodded and promised he would be there.

I sat in my apartment, clothed in a little red dress that I was sure Bucky would like. I was bouncing on my feet in excitement when he finally knocked on the door, and I beamed at him when I answered.

He was dressed in dark jeans, navy shirt and my favourite leather jacket of his. He looked me up and down, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile.

"You look pretty," he said unexpectedly, his voice sincere.

I blushed, my cheeks on fire. "Thank you."

This was exactly how I wanted to spend my day. With Bucky, having dinner in a tiny little French restaurant that we had both discovered one day months ago, walking along the river afterwards as the sun set. I wanted to hold his hand so much, wanted to cling onto his arm, but I knew better than to do so.

"I need to tell you something," Bucky said solemnly as I smiled. I felt so unbelievably happy with him in this moment. This was one of those moments I managed to tell myself that I could accept being his not-quite-a-lover-and-not-quite-a-friend as long as he was by my side.

"What is it?" My smile faded slowly as he met my eyes, his expression stoic.

"I want you to be happy," he said carefully. "You deserve it." The words hung in the air as I waited for him to continue, not even daring to guess what he really wanted to say. "I know how you feel about me."

"How do I feel about you?" I challenged softly. I had never said the words out loud, but I knew that he knew. I just wanted to hear him say it.

"I know you love me," he said after a long pause. The sound of the water filled the silence as I looked at him, unsure of what he would say next. "I want you to be happy, but you know I can't give that to you."

There was a long, strained silence. "Why not?" I asked, my chest tightening. I knew I was being stupid, pathetic even, just by asking the question. "You never even gave us a chance."

I don't deserve one.

"You knew from the beginning that this could never be anything more than what it is," Bucky said, his tone gentle but his eyes hard.

"Why?" I repeated, frustration bubbling.

"Because I don't do relationships," Bucky retorted, voice now sharp. His words stuck themselves into me like needles. "I want you to be happy, really. Truly. But I can't give you a happy ending."

Why did it feel like he was breaking up with me when there was no relationship to break in the first place?

"So now what?" I whispered, trying desperately not to cry. Not in front of him, please. I wanted to know if he ever felt anything for me. I wanted to know if there was ever a time where he might have considered loving me back.

"I'll be leaving the city tomorrow. For good."

I had no right to ask him to stay. Bucky Barnes was his own person, and he would do what he wanted to. I was inconsequential, a nothing. I had let myself become so caught up in this fantasy and my stupid hope, setting myself up for failure.

"Okay."

------ x ------

Love was such a fucking trap. Bucky had tried the whole dating thing in the past, naively thinking that maybe, he could actually find someone and get a taste of normalcy. Before he met her, he had dated a few different girls, but something never felt quite right.

And then she exploded into his life, all smiles and positivity and everything that Bucky might actually need and want.

It fucking terrified him.

He fell in love so quickly with her. It felt so easy, so right. But as soon as he made that realisation, he also knew - love was dangerous. She was so delicate, so trusting, Bucky felt like he wanted to be around her to protect her always.

But having her meant that she would always be in danger. There would always be a threat, lying dormant, until one day something would happen to her. As long as Bucky cared about her, she would always be something to lose.

Sam said he was being dumb. That he was hurting her by teasing her with Bucky's presence and yet always being just out of her reach.

Bucky was selfish. He just didn't want to let her go, even if it meant that every time she took a step forward, he would take a step back and watch her heart get crushed.

But it wasn't sustainable. He knew he had to bite the bullet and leave eventually.

He just told himself that he would do it the day after. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

He just always wanted one more day with her.

------ x ------

Bucky had left two months ago.

Those two months passed by like my own personal hell. The calls left unanswered, the texts left unread. I felt so pathetic as I stared at our WhatsApp conversation, my words being fired off despite telling myself that I shouldn't.

Wed 7 Dec - How are you?

Fri 9 Dec - Where are you right now? Thinking about you.

Mon 19 Dec - I know you won't answer. I don't even know why I bother you text you these. I just want to know if I ever meant anything to you.

Sat 24 Dec - I think I was so stupid to love you.

I don't know what else I expected. He was the famous Bucky Barnes, one of Earth's mightiest heroes. He was busy saving lives and doing dangerous shit, and I was - what? Some random girl who just happened to be there at one point in his life. If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else who had ended up as his fuck-buddy.

The realisation was heart-wrenching. He could easily take off and leave, never answer the phone or my messages, because I was never anything important to him. He could write me out of his life, because I was just a page in his novel. To be forgotten about.

------ x ------

I heard about Sam's death half a year after Bucky had left.

It was plastered across the newspaper headlines. Sam had been killed on a mission in Siberia, a mission headed by himself and Bucky. The moment I heard the breaking news on the radio, my heart stopped, the grief threatening to crush me.

There was a public memorial in Washington, D.C., near the National Mall. I attended alone, travelling there alongside hundreds of thousands of other people, strangers, all wishing to pay their respects to the Falcon.

I didn't expect to see him there. I was so confident that he would be mourning him privately, away from the public eye, away from all the people.

I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the dark figure leaning against the passenger side of my door, cap on his head, leather gloves tight around his hands. I didn't even need to meet his eyes to know it was him.

There were no words exchanged. He got into my car silently as I did the same, barely daring to breathe lest he suddenly dissipate into the air like an illusion, as I was convinced he couldn't be real.

It wasn't until we got back to my hotel that he snapped. The door closed and he was there, crumpling into my arms, his own wrapped around me tightly, his face buried into my shoulder.

His tears wet my skin, ragged breathing loud and in agony.

"I'm so sorry," he moaned in a pained voice, his arms squeezing me so hard that I could barely breathe. "I am so sorry."

"Bucky," I whispered, feeling his warmth against me as I finally dared to accept that he was really here. He was really, truly here. "I got you. It's okay."

"No," he gasped, his tears soaking my shirt. I had never seen him cry before, and the vulnerability broke my heart. "I can't lose you too. I can't lose you."

His knees buckled, dragging me onto the floor with him as he cried, his arms never once letting go of me. My hands lifted to stroke his hair as his chest heaved with painful sobs.

This was the sound of a broken man. The sound of someone who had lost Steve, and now Sam, and the floodgates had finally broke.

He lifted his head to look at me, eyes bloodshot and his hands raised to cradle my face. I felt so overwhelmed by all the emotions in my heart - grief, confusion, love, relief, sadness. Everything all at once, crushing my ability to think straight. Everything felt surreal, happening at a pace that I couldn't keep up with.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered. "I wanted to keep you safe, wanted to keep you - keep you alive, want you to have a normal life, and I ruined everything. I ruined everything." The words streamed out nonsensically to me. "I had to leave, had to go before things got too bad, but I was so stupid. Being so fucking stupid. I can't lose you too. I can't lose you."

"James, breathe," I said gently, staring back at him and trying not to reveal just how worried and perplexed I was.

"You knew, right? You had to know how I felt about you, deep down," Bucky asked, pleading. I didn't answer as he continued to sob - I simply held him, letting him cry against me.

------ x ------

Nightfall came, and Bucky had quietened. You were both lying on the bed, fully clothed, his hand clutching yours tightly. The feeling felt unfamiliar and right at the same time.

"I have always loved you," Bucky said quietly, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.

My breath hitched. He's lying, the voice of doubt said, loudly and clearly in your mind.

"I fell in love with you. How could not?" He continued, his voice pained. "But it terrified me. The feeling of being in love, of having something to lose. The knowledge that I am what I am - someone with a history, with blood on my hands, knowing I've done unspeakable things that I am so afraid for you to find out about."

I turned my head to look at him, not quite daring to believe what he was saying.

"You have no idea." He looked at me finally, his eyes still wet and tortured. "I wanted to let you know how much I loved you. I wanted to be happy with you. But I couldn't."

"Bucky..."

"But I'm tired of running away," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Leaving you was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I don't think I can survive without you." He laughed suddenly, humorlessly. "Is that selfish?"

"No," I replied instantly. My stomach swirled, and I knew he could see the doubt in my eyes with just one look.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

I remained silent for a long minute before I finally answered. "I just don't understand how you could love me."

I flinched at the rage that flashed across his face. Not quite anger at me, I realised, but fury at himself.

"I made you think that I didn't love you back," he said tersely, fists balling up. "And I will never forgive myself for that. I was playing hero but actually I was just being stubborn. Being so unbelievably stupid."

He rolled over to position himself on top of me suddenly, eyes fixed on mine. He propped himself up above me with his hands on either side of my head, eyes pleading.

"When I met you, I had no idea I could feel this way for anyone. The way you smiled at me, the way you understood me, the way you made me laugh and the way you cared. When you fell in love with me, I could feel it. I felt so special to be the one you chose.

I told myself that I couldn't let you in. I couldn't let it get too far. I couldn't tell you about myself, about my childhood, about the terrible things I've done, about the good things I've done, about the hopes and dreams I had for the future. I told myself that if I let you in, it would be too real. You would be someone that I could lose, and if i lost you, it would kill me."

"So you would rather just leave me?" I whispered, my eyes welling up at the memory of the long six months I'd endured without him.

"I thought I was keeping you safe," he replied, eyes closing briefly as he gritted his teeth.

"You broke my heart," I said simply. The statement wasn't made to hurt him, but rather just a declaration of the truth.

"I don't know what to do," Bucky said, shaking his head as his eyes revealed the conflict in his mind. "I don't want to be apart from you anymore. But I don't want to risk putting you in danger. As long as you're with me, you will always be in danger. I don't know what to do," he repeated, looking so anguished that I wanted to cry all over again.

"Please just stay," I pleaded. "Please stay with me."

Bucky kissed you finally, his chapped lips against yours, melting into you as soon as they met. He sighed shakily, as if he was finally home after a long day.

"I'll stay. I'll protect you with everything I have. I promise."

🎭 Happy Birthday to Keigo Takami || No. 2 Pro Hero Hawks || 28.12

Source.

The Occultist class for the upcoming TTRPG, The Hidden Isle.

Moss troll. From a scandinavian forest.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkVwA__Fk9g

Lactation {Pt 1}{Kny Version}

Characters: Muzan Kibutsuji, Kokushibo and Douma.

Female pronouns used here

Some won't make sense

For these, I'm making the reader a demon. (I don't think demons are capable of lactation, but this is purely fiction so...)

Warning/s: 18+, Cockwarming (Only in Douma's part)

Muzan Kibutsuji (Fuck, he's hot here)-

It was rare for the demon king himself to show you affection, as he preferred to keep it behind closed doors.

But here you both were, sitting on his lap while he leaves small bites on your neck. Soft breaths escaped your lips as his fingers rubbed your sides. Muzan leaned in, taking in your scent, which was very different from most. Instead, your scent was pleasant and often calmed him down.

"Soft..." He mumbled, squeezing your sides gently. You didn't say a word or move a muscle. You just sat there, letting him go down to your chest. He rips your top off, circling his tongue around your erect bud. He started sucking it, tasting something sweet.

Without saying another word, his hands grip your hips tightly and he starts to suck your nipple harder.

Kokushibo-

Like his leader, he isn't the most affectionate one. Just like him, he preferred to keep his affectionate side behind closed doors.

You may be a demon, but it was a struggle to keep up with him, even when he's slamming into you at full speed. His hands gripped your hips roughly, leaving possible bruises.

"K-Kokushibo!" You groaned out, your hands gripping his arms as he pounded into your pussy. He didn't seem to hear you and continued thrusting into you. He pushed your legs further, his cock sinking deeper. Your eyes rolled back from the sudden change, letting his arms go and resting them on your chest. You accidentally squeezed your chest hard, some milk leaking out. Kokushibo stared at your leaking breasts, and leaned down to lick the milk.

"Fuck...." He muttered, flicking your nipple with his tongue.

Douma-

Out of all your fellow demons, Douma had to be the most touchy one. Just like with the other upper moons, he's always touching you. But unlike them, you were his favourite target.

Which might have led him to laying his head on your chest, slightly nuzzling it. He had pulled this off multiple times, but none of those times involved him shoving his cock inside you.

"So soft~" the upper moon cooed playfully in your ear, nibbling at your neck. You stared at him with worry, afraid someone will walk in. You tried to adjust yourself on his lap, but his cock went deeper, twitching against your walls. His hands found their way to your chest, groping them while tracing his thumbs over your buds. He pulled back when he felt it grow damp, slightly surprised to see darker patches right where your nipples are.

Lifting your top up, he sees milk leaking out. Douma stares at your nipples, and a smile appears on his face. He attached his lips to your leaking bud, sucking the milk out like there's no tomorrow.

“To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong.”

— Joseph Chilton Pearce