#and readers who interact

[brandileigh2003]

Wish I could read more with my memory issues. If I too many then I get confused or storylines mixed up, or frustrated at myself bc I can't remember. Or take lots of notes. Which can be exhausting

But the ones I do read, I'm thankful/excited every time there's author interaction with my comments (it is appreciated if authors ever wonder if they should--zar responded to me once and made my day, I still have screenshot saved) and just them giving any extra info or keyboard smashing back at me it's special. There's 3 authors in particular I can think of that makes me smile and I write longer comments bc they interact and seeing their replies in inbox means a lot. Maybe more then they know.

Or seeing asks answered on Tumblr- ty authors for that too!! It's like read the chapter and run over to see what else is going on, and avoiding TikTok, discord or Tumblr notifications until you get a minute to read is part of the fun too.

I'm waiting for my friends to read a certain wip with and have the inevitable squealing about wolfstar l, my beloveds, oh they're being such cute and frustrating idiots in love-- aren't they precious?

and before I realized that you can hide certain tags it was like a game to me to come on Tumblr, scroll real quick when I thought it might be spoiler to look for other posts about other of their fic I'm reading or have read.

or when my discord is also reading, that's special too but there's less fics we're matching up on lately 😭

I realize this has turned rambling, so all that to say--- I appreciate all the authors, and wish I could do more besides kudos and bookmark when I'm at my limit.

not reading wips feels anti-fanfiction to me. and i don't mean that in a "so you're a bad person if you don't read them" kinda way. do what you want. but i also feel, that you are completely missing the point. with fanfiction you're supposed to come along for the ride. the epic highs and lows of highschool football. the comment sections. the conversations. the theories. the "sorry i didn't update last week i was abducted by aliens and then my cat got stuck in a tree." LIKE. if you just want a story that's fully finished and polished go to a bookstore. fanfic is an EXPERIENCE. and ALSO. participating in the process is part of the way you make fanfic writing worth while. it's part of how you thank authors. like why would anyone write fanfiction if no one was going to interact with them until it was done? it again feels like a way that fanfiction is being eaten by consumer culture. you're waiting for your product. but this is supposed to be a club. you don't turn up to drama club like "where's my play bitch?" NO ma'am. we're supposed to paint these cardboard trees together. ok. i may have lost control of this metaphor. BUT YOU GET IT.

[turtlespancake]

i love seeing out of context posts about long-running stories with deep lore because it's always shit like "MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!! i can't believe that the metallic athenaeum's envoy actually used never-ending dance of the 57th universe on rionne as if she's not LITERALLY the incarnate of august?!?!" it's like buddy boy thank you for the spoiler tag but all of those words are incomprehensible without at least 5 years of foreshadowed knowledge, 7 different fan theories, and 21 wiki entries

[butteronabun]

i just want you to take me where your heart is

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader highschool au.

overview: and who could possibly be the golden boy’s type?

wc: 2k

notes: imagine diluc with his hair down in this one. and also. diluc’s father hasn’t d-worded in this au so he’s the happy diluc we all know and love before shit hit the fan ( we still love him even after shit hit the fan tho )

Diluc Ragnvindr is prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker. 

And of course, he’s every girl’s dream guy. 

��. . . And yet, he’s still single,” Kaeya remarks with a smirk, and his friends around him laugh in unison. 

Currently, he’s eating lunch with them in the campus’ outdoor park — a place of tranquility where some students prefer to hang. Instead of being involved in the hustle and bustle of what goes on in their cafeteria, be it your average food fights or impromptu musicals incited by a certain twin–braided man, said outdoor park was a better option for these lads to unwind.

“You know, I used to think that he and Jean would look good together,” a friend of Kaeya says, and they all turn to him. “She’s just like him: elegant and grades conscious. Takes part in student governments and volunteers to school events. Plus, she’s drop dead gorgeous! With her brilliant blue eyes and smooth blond hair, oh, if I was Diluc - I would not hesitate to date her!”

“Nah, I think Lumine is better,” They all glance next to their right. “She’s sporty, and she can definitely keep up with Diluc. She aces her tests without any difficulty, despite doing a part–time job every night with her brother in a nearby coffee shop, and it’s rumored that she makes the best drinks! Moreover, she’s a beauty. That’s why she keeps on receiving loads of love letters during the Windblume Festival every year, so it will not be surprising if she’ll be getting them again!”

Ah, yes. The Windblume Festival is fast approaching—now that January is about to end, in the next two weeks, Brightcrown High School’s air will surely be filled with nothing but endless romance.

Kaeya gazes up above, where a giant tree shadows their figures with its bright green leaves. The sunlight filters through the gaps and he basks into this moment of peace. He then adds playfully, “And Diluc will be busy tidying up his locker once more, because it will be filled with chocolates and letters.”

“What?! Does he even eat them? Tell him that he can donate, you know!”

Kaeya huffs, “My brother won’t even give me a piece, what makes you think he’ll hand you one?” 

He remembers the time that Diluc had been so overwhelmed by the plethora of sweets, and yet seemed so appreciative about it. Father was just proud of the older son’s popularity. Kaeya offered to help him consume them all as a joke, but Diluc shook his head vigorously, saying that he shouldn’t, and that “they all worked hard for this”, and it was right that he only eat them.

How adorable of him, really.

Plus, Diluc even read the letters one by one. No matter how cringe or sickeningly sweet they were, Diluc read them all. And Kaeya wasn’t even shocked that there was no judgment in his face. 

Diluc was just grateful for the gifts. Bashful, indeed, and sometimes he was not sure what to feel, but he was grateful.

“So, Diluc. Who will it be? Jean or Lumine?” Kaeya questions with a grin that afternoon, when the Windblume Festival is finally in full swing. 

Diluc raises his head from the paper he’s answering — it’s a survey given to him by one of the juniors for their research subject — and frowns. “What brought this on? Why am I suddenly choosing between two friends?”

“Oh come on, you weren’t even listening!” Kaeya pouts, before sitting on a nearby desk. 

After exploring the premises for some snacks and attractions, the brothers decided to stay inside an empty classroom for a while. They can hear some cheers from the outside, loud declarations of love and squeals from the majority, that surely Diluc thinks would be a delight for Kaeya, but has opted to accompany him instead.

“I was.” Diluc purses his lips, and hears laughter echoing through the halls as students run and get chased by disciplinary officers. “You and your friends were talking about the girls and I. I just don’t understand why you want me to choose. And be careful, you might fall. Don’t move so much.”

“Cooome on, Diluc,” Kaeya groans as he leans, “We’re sixteen, aren’t we? Father says we’re at that age, after all. By that, I meant, where we’re all supposed to be dating and courting?”

Diluc feels his cheeks slightly heat up from the words that escaped from Kaeya’s mouth. He returns to his duty of answering the survey. ( As if he needed to, when he was already done. ) “And I told you countless times that I’m not interested. Need I remind you that I don’t have the time for it. You know I still have to prepare for college, and that I have to keep an eye on my varsity scholarship, and—“

“Yadda, yadda, yadda——“

“Don’t yadda me, Kaeya. That’s just how it is.”

“You seriously aren’t interested?” Kaeya prods.

Diluc shoots him a firm stare. “Absolutely positive.”

And Kaeya sticks his tongue before hopping from the desk and making his way to the door. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.” Diluc watches his retreating back. “I’ll make sure to find you a lady, and it’ll be your type, and you’ll fall in love.”

Kaeya pulls the door open. He confidently says, “It’ll be inevitable, Diluc. Inevitable!”

A small smile creeps its way to Diluc’s lips, finding this all amusing. “Then I wish you the best of luck.”

Kaeya huffs, not liking that Diluc seems so smug and unbothered by it, then leaves.

Diluc waits for a while. And waits. 

And waits, until he blinks, checks his survey, before sighing heavily. 

A brilliant shade of red coats his pale cheeks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Dating. Courting. The type of lady Diluc likes? Yeah. Diluc already has found his type. 

( Kaeya doesn’t have to know yet. He hates lying, but it’s too soon. Maybe someday. If Diluc can face his feelings first. )

So, hear, hear! He’s not missing out, in spite of what his friends say.

This person is not what everyone expects; it’s not the formal and polite Jean who can deliver a speech eloquently, nor the radiant and loyal Lumine that they want to push toward his direction.

Instead. . .it’s someone else.

And that someone else dropped a bowl of soup to Principal Varka’s white slacks. That someone else triggered the anger of a certain math teacher because she climbed the roof so carelessly during class to fly a kite. That someone else got into detention and instead of writing I’ll be good from now on one hundred times, spent the day with the others in that session to tell ghost stories.

That someone else was you, who wasn’t like Jean or Lumine. That someone else was you—the you, who was his exact opposite, and yet managed to capture his heart. 

You are one of Mond High’s known troublemakers, and apparently, he has fallen victim to your charms.

Maybe it began when you were just snickering with your buddies in the library despite the librarian‘s persistent shushing. He was solving his quadratic formula worksheets back then, and he was impressed that even if you were fooling around, you were in the library to actually learn more about the cardiovascular system, with the help of a fellow friend. 

(“I will be proud to say that the one that carries the blood away from the heart is. . . arteries!”

“You’re right!”

“Yay!!”

“Shh!”) 

Or maybe it began when you witnessed that one student who humiliated himself by accidentally slipping on the wet floor in the cafeteria, and everyone sans Diluc laughed.  Then you came to his rescue, marching in the middle with all the attention on you. 

You didn’t offer your hand. 

But you purposefully slipped instead, and even had the most embarrassing fall. The cafeteria became noisier because of you, and Diluc, baffled at first, found himself chuckling soon after.

Actually, no. 

He didn’t fall in love with you during those times. These were the times in his life that led to this one very moment—

When the Favonious Birds lost the tournament, Diluc was sulking in the playground, all by himself. He took the blame despite Kaeya and his friends denying it, but he knew better. If Diluc had just made it quickly to the ring, their team could’ve been victorious and brought the trophy home.

But alas, it was just an if. It didn’t happen.

Then, something wet drops in his hair. Then his arm. And nose. It was about to rain, and Diluc just grunted, not caring one bit. He was sure Adelinde would make a fuss about it, or his father would pester him for his carelessness, but he wasn’t in the mood to leave his spot just yet.

Let the rain wash away his sorrows.

Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. 

“Don’t match with the gloomy weather now.”

Diluc slowly lifted his head, wondering who spoke and what covered his pathetic and hunched form that was wallowing in despair. And his eyes grew wide when he saw you, almost bending with an umbrella in hand, sheltering you and him from the incoming downpour.

You smiled down at him, “There it is. Keep your head up, King! Your crown is falling.” 

And Diluc’s heart skipped a beat the same time a thunder rumbled from the distance. “W–what. . . ?”

You continued, “I don’t know what got you all so sad, but everything will be fine soon! I’m sure of it! After all, once the rain passes, there will be a rainbow!” Then, you grabbed his cold and even bigger hand, and Diluc, at that split second, felt the static. You didn’t even react. But your hand was warm, and Diluc’s chest was, too. 

Dumbfounded, he let you guide his fingers. It only came to him long after that he was gripping a metal handle. “Have my umbrella! I hope this will make your day a little better, and if it doesn’t. . . well, at least I tried. But I have to go now!”

You quickly put the hood over your head when the rain grew stronger. Diluc, concerned over your well–being, finally regained his composure to protest. “But what about you— hey. . . !”

He watched you run and wave, bidding farewell. “You don’t have to return it to me! It’s all yours! I really have to go, so see you, maybe? Bye!”

“But. . . !”

And Diluc. . . Diluc could catch you if he wanted. He could sprint and return the umbrella to its rightful owner, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he remained in his position. 

And his heart— oh, his heart. His heart couldn’t stop pounding that day.

You are Diluc’s first love. 

That is established. 

The thing is, this is a secret. No one knows yet. Just him.

He’s never felt this towards anyone before. You are his first.

( And hopefully the last. )

You’re different from everyone else. You’re different from him. You have your own unique methods of doing things. You have your own way of paving your path. You are the artist to your own canvas; the director of your own film.

You are like the sun. You brighten everyone’s day with your presence, and you also shine, because Diluc can’t keep his eyes off of you whenever you’re in the vicinity.

He knows that this is really an unexpected outcome – him, who was definitely out of your league and vice versa, catching feelings for someone like you.

( Someone like you who is free in life, and Diluc wants to feel that, even just for a bit, with you. )

But like before, all he can do is merely daydream and wonder about the what–ifs. What will it be like to be your friend? Will he experience all the shenanigans that you ensue? Will he also fly a kite with you? Will he get into detention?

Yet this is unbecoming. Improper. Inappropriate for someone like him—for the eldest son of the Ragnvindrs and for the next heir of the winery. He can’t indulge into lighthearted affairs or mischief. He’s supposed to be responsible and disciplined. A man of propriety.

So all he can ever do is have these thoughts. Just thoughts. He has more important matters to attend to, like college applications, training, lessons in handling the in winery business. . . 

And . . . there’s no way that you’ll approach him again, right? 

Diluc knows to himself that can do it instead, you know. He can approach you if he must, but . . . he’s just so shy. 

And a lot of people are always around you. So who is he to burst your bubble, when you seem so finally content with your life?

Diluc peeks from the open windows and sees couples holding hands and sharing kisses. Briefly, he imagines what it would be like to experience romantic love during Windblume.

He feels his cheeks steam again. 

Kaeya will surely have a field day once he sees his older brother being lovesick like this.

You really are one of Mond High’s troublemakers. And it’s not only because you prank your friends or piss off the teachers, but you make it hard for him to focus. 

Just thinking of you never fails to make his heart perform somersaults.

He is Diluc Ragnvindr. Prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker. 

He is not every girl’s dream guy. 

Because unfortunately, the girl he likes doesn’t even see him in a romantic light.

[inklore]

can we bring back fun fics? ya know when they weren’t taken too seriously, where we were simply writing them to feel that ooshy gooshy feeling and laugh and feel. nowadays i feel like all that matters is how intense the smut is, and trust i love smut. i am its number one fan. but i feel like its become a means to popularity, only writing it because it’s following a status quo of readers who only care about fics when it includes filth. like its not wrong to want the filth. we all love the filth. but please bring back the silly little plots. give me one bed, give me unrealistic fake dating, give me a wild crossover with fandoms that shouldn’t work together but do, give me something crazy like aliens invading or dinosaurs! like all of those things can lead to tooth rotting fluff or shaky knees smut. just bring back the feels! the silliness! the reasons why we all stay up until all hours of the night devouring these works of art!!

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: if you have stuck around and waited u are INCREDIBLE thank u so much for ur patience <3 esp cos i'm still testing it with my slowburn lmao + tell me what u think lovelies and as always, enjoy

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

CHAPTER TEN :: SHADOWS

Azriel is a spy by his very nature.

It makes sense; the gift of Shadowsinger is never bestowed so lightly so that it could ever leave any doubt of the user. Shadowsingers are spies, even well before their gifts revealed themselves. Always watching. Always listening.

It was, then, a tad against his disposition to keep his nose out business that wasn't his — as that was precisely what Azriel did best.

But his decision was resolute. Azriel had promised himself he would not be the first to break the distance between you two.

However, for a fae over five-hundred years old, it's quite unsettling to yet again feel the pangs of impatience. Years of practicing restraint and then, in a mere few months, his hard earned patent for patience begins to fray at the ends. You'll be his undoing, he's sure of it.

Like a young and fresh-faced warrior itching for battle, it's almost embarrassing how Azriel can't seem to stay away from you. His feet wander and all paths lead to you.

His shadows are not helping.

Azriel thinks they've managed to get more insistent, which he hadn't really believe was possible. They've proven him oh-so wrong. When he walks the halls of the House of Wind, the dark wisps dart out, as though trying to tug him along.

He had trusted them all of two times before, face flushed and with an ungraceful but thankfully unnoticed exit, he learned just where they were leading him.

They were following the invisible thread between you, taking him to see his mate.

When it became clear he wasn't going to be coerced along, his shadows had only got more devious.

It's a particular brand of torture, Azriel thinks, to be delivered little parcels of knowledge of the person he's not allowing himself to see.

And they're ruthless about it. Whispers about how you're healing and the growing steadiness of your feet, the way you stand a little taller each day, about the tentative trust extended to Cassian.

Gods, that one had made his hand jerk across the paper in surprise, spilling a patch of ink onto the report he was in the middle of.

You were talking to Cassian— no, you were nearly friends with Cassian. The magnanimous hope had ballooned within him before Azriel remembered to stomp it back down.

Mor had teased him for the black stains on his hands during dinner.

He studies them now, nearly washed away completely, before he lifts his head. In the cool air of dusk, Azriel surveils the training ring from the shadows of the door, eyes scanning across the balcony.

It's empty, as expected. The rising moon is his only company.

You've stuck to training in the mornings, of course.

He's relieved and disappointed all at once—then Azriel forces that disappointment out of his system with a frustrated huff.

He is not allowed to be disappointed. Your trust is something he still needs to claw his way back to, to earn, and that required waiting and accepting that.

Azriel would see you... when you wanted to see him.

Despite his resolve, the thread between you still gives a futile tug before he can stop it. Scowling at himself, he rubs at his chest meanly, banishing the feeling. He steps down onto the balcony and heads towards the equipment.

As his scarred hands reach out and pluck one of the training staffs off the rack, his shadows twirls and trill, an almost teasing motion. It takes one pointed whisper, one tug on his heartstrings —they used that one just earlier today— before his hands are glowing warm from the second-hand touch.

His fingers spring apart and the staff hits the tiles with a loud clatter. Even though it's just him out on the balcony, he still casts an awkward glance around him. Gods

If his brothers could see him now, Azriel thinks dryly.

He swats at the shadow that had unhelpfully fed him the information. It dances away from him, swooping down to circle the staff on the ground with its others, a mass of black surrounding it.

Azriel bends down and gingerly picks up the staff, his hazel eyes staring at it for a long moment. Where your hands have been.

After a moment, his fingers curl around it. His marred hands feel like they're glowing again, warm and tingling, even if he knows it's all in his mind. Even so, he swears the golden thread between you hums, just ever so slightly.

He'll allow himself this, just this once, Azriel decides. His grip tightens and he heads to the ring, preparing to train, his hands where yours were just mere hours before.

—

The day after you had met Cassian, as the dawn breaks over sky, you find him on the training balcony before you.

You're a little later than you'd normally be, the sun actually rising before you do. You're moving a little more sluggishly too, but for once it's for a better reason.

Sleep, normally light and fitful for you, had actually been a reprieve last night. You slept deeply, falling into dreamless slumber and resting properly.

When morning crept in, dragging your eyelids up had felt like a mountainous amount of effort. Part of you wonders if it's because of the male across the balcony from you.

Allies, you had agreed upon.

It's a little easier to rest when you've made one less enemy.

Watching him now, stretching his supple and bulging arms, you have to force down the instilled anxiety that festers up, a force of habit that's kept you safe all these years.

You're not in Exordor anymore. You're not keeping any secrets.

Cassian clocks your hesitant stance in the doorway as he turns, a wide grin breaking across his face. His wings perk up, a genuine sign of his excitement. He stops his stretching momentarily to wave.

"Morning!" He calls out, despite the fact the distance between you doesn't require him to do so.

"Ally." He adds pointedly, leaning over to give an over the top wink.

Somewhere buried deep inside you, a laugh almost wants to wriggle free, but it's smothered before you can think too hard. You give him a wry smile instead, the best you can manage, and take a tentative step down onto the balcony. Your wings give a tiny shiver in the passing breeze.

"Good morning," You manage to return, the words sticking in your throat on the way up. It's awkward but nothing in Cassian's friendly demeanor changes to indicate he's noticed. Your feet lead you over towards the weapons rack.

It's as you reach them do you realise your heart is rabbiting wildly, pounding in your chest, stewing you in discomfort. The hair on the back of your neck rises, prickling with unease. Your back is turned to a fierce warrior, one that could very well attack you.

And worse, you'll be training next to him, still not healed, still stumbling on your feet—revealing all the ways to strike you down.

You—you haven't done this, ever. You haven't trained with someone completely as yourself, with no facade to hide beneath. It suddenly becomes incredibly vulnerable.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the training staff and you try your best to swallow down your nerves.

Cassian has kept his distance, resuming his stretches, but you don't miss how his eyes dance over to you every couple of seconds. For a moment, it alarms you but as you find a place and settle into your stance, you steal another glimpse.

It's more like... a dog wagging its tail, you think faintly.

You press down the urge to smile and begin your exercises.

There's all of ten minutes of silence before it gets broken.

"How do you like Velaris?"

You pause in your motions, huffing to catch your breath as your grip the training staff loosens. You cast a glance over at Cassian who's now picked up one of the broadswords, beginning to throw its weight around easily.

You blink and for a moment, your eyes dart out over the edge of the balcony, to the city teeming with life, so close and yet so far from you. A part of you aches fiercely to see it.

"I... haven't been into the city." You answer honestly. It comes out curt and doesn't exactly answer his question.

Eyeing his sword nervously, your force your aching muscles through another series of exercises. You're a sliver better than the day before but when your ear twinges loudly, you still stumble, a minuscule motion. Your heart lurches up your throat, frustration welling like a tidal wave within you.

"Okay, then how do you like the House of Wind?"

You pause again, looking over to Cassian tentatively, the pain in your ear momentarily forgotten. The rising frustration in you dissipates at the distraction. He waves a casual hand over to the house you've been residing in since you arrived in Velaris and smiles once more.

You swallow thickly. What is his angle here?

"I haven't..." You struggle to put your thoughts into words. It's... different. New. Unsettling. You don't want to say the wrong thing. For all you know, this may well be his home.

Eventually, you find your voice. "I like my room. It's—" Several words ping to the front of your mind. "—big."

You cringe. Some compliment that is. You're too honest even if it is true; you're far too used to the familiar cramped space of your own cabin. Even sharing walls with others is foreign to you and you're incredibly thankful you haven't run into anyone unexpectedly in any corridors yet.

It doesn't occur to you that it might entirely be by design, thanks to Rhys' strict instruction.

Cassian grins. "Yes, I recall Illyria being hardly known for it's roomy cabins."

He swings the sword around with a flick of his wrist, more like an idle motion than anything. Your eyes still flicker down keenly, watching for any threat, just in case.

"So, you haven't explored the house much then?" Cassian continues, feigning a stab forward with the sword, his eyes on his motions but his attention still focused primarily on you.

You follow his lead and swing the training staff again, in an arching whoosh. You shake your head in answer to his question.

"Do you want to?"

"Do you always talk this much during training?"

The words come out before you can think to check them, sucking in a sharp breath as you realise how snappy that sounded. Like you're looking for a fight.

You ready yourself to sink into a defensive stance, before you realise that Cassian has only laughed in response. A curl of his tied back hair comes loose as he shakes his head, the action almost... fond.

"Only when I'm trying to make friends." He grins warmly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Sorry, I'll stop prying."

You swallow and nod slightly, hoping it won't be read as rude. Though you'd had a hard time believing it, Cassian had been true to his word; no fighting unless it was in the ring. You hadn't dared to go near it yet.

Readjusting your stance, you prepared to go through the motions once more. It's still a bit more of the juvenile exercises than you're used to—forced back to the basics as you retrain your body—but also because you're solitary training. You're used to sparring with others.

Stealing a glimpse at Cassian, you ponder if—if you might, eventually that is, train alongside him as you had done with Azriel.

Moving the training staff deftly, you thrust it forward and twist your lithe body to dart forward again, a small patter of your feet on the stone.

It's maneuver used for rushing opponents, throwing them off their balance and driving them backwards. It works for you, mostly, but the way your wings cut through the air, the slightest whistle through the holey scars, makes you a little unsteady.

"You fight like you're bigger than you are."

Straightening up, you breathe heavily and peer around the edges of your wings back at Cassian—who apparently isn't done talking at all.

He nods to you, in reference the maneuver you've just performed. "That is a move usually far better suited for someone of a larger stature."

You clear your throat, wings curling in a bit closer around you. "Yes. Azriel, he- he was trying to rectify that. There's only one way to train Illyrians, as I'm sure you know."

Cassian nods again, lowering the sword to hang at his side. "That I do. However, I feel Azriel may have been taking the wrong approach given... the information he was not privy to at the time."

Your brows knit together, something wrong twisting tightly in your chest.

"Because I'm..."

Female.

"Not a male?"

The words come out sharp without meaning to.

Cassian's picks up on your defensiveness, his expression softening. He gives a little so-so motion with his free hand, his wings rustling behind him. "A bit, but not for reasons you may think."

When you don't speak, he continues, his explanation unfurling.

"Your centre of gravity is different to ours. That actually changes the best way for you to fight. More of your strength comes from these—"

He slaps his hands down onto his thighs with a grin.

"—than from your arms. For that reason, there are moves you will be better at than what you've been taught."

Cassian cocks his head, his dark eyes squinting for a moment, deep in thought. "Azriel likely switched your training to agility based, didn't he?"

You nod gingerly. You had no idea if what he was said was true. If there was a fighting style suited to females. That would require... female warriors which, for all you've ever known, is a highly unlikely thing to exist.

Though, being he is the General of the Night Court's armies, you'd likely assume Cassian knows what he's talking about.

He nods, that same easy smile. "He was right to do so. Most camps focus on brute strength and stamina. Makes for good warriors that can take hits and keep going. You can train that way if you still wish but you might find you excel when your efforts are put elsewhere."

It takes a long moment before you realise exactly what his words mean.

An offer. He's offering to train you, to teach you.

Pleasant surprise blooms inside you, warm, curling up behind your ribs like a purring cat. Cassian's eyes are light and friendly, his body language relaxed as though if you turn him down, it'd be of no consequence to him. Merely an offer.

You turn it over in your mind, back and forth. The gentle wind from the mountains caresses across your cheekbones, a warm touch.

Inside, deep in your chest, there's something telling you to trust. To take the step forward, to accept Cassian's outstretched proposal. That you might regret it if you didn't.

"How?" Your eyes skirt up and down on instinct, still on alert for a threat that isn't coming.

Cassian grins infectiously, not even attempting to hide his glee. He rolls his shoulders back and assesses you once more.

"Have you ever heard of the headscissor takedown?"

—

Flesh hits stone, a large shuddering bang that echoes out the courtyard. In the distance, a couple birds take flight, squawking loudly. Pain ricochets through your knees, a warbling and jarring pain that has you gritting your teeth.

"You're..." Cassian's breath comes out raggedly. "Incredible!"

He beams from where he's pinned beneath you and your pain dashes away in a moment, something gleaning and prideful taking its place.

There's a rivulet of blood under his nose, his hair knocked loose, and you know hitting the ground as hard as he did won't have been nice. He continues on as if he hasn't.

"That was perfect form. You're a Cauldron-born natural!"

You huff a breath that might be an actual laugh this time and quickly retract yourself, standing to your feet. You waver momentarily, hesitance poisoning your thoughts, before you decide. Holding out your hand to help, Cassian is quick to put his hand in your own and use it to lug himself up.

When he gets to his feet, his grip loosens but he doesn't let go altogether.

"Hey," He says, more serious this time. His fingers around your wrist, soft and warm, still make your pulse jump nervously. You force yourself to meet his gaze, still friendlier than ever. "Seriously. You're very skilled and you're a fast learner. You've got the makings to be lethal. The Night Court is lucky to have you on our side."

His hand slips back, grazing your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips a beat.

No one has ever been... lucky to have you. It's so foreign that hearing someone say it aloud makes you forget to breath for one long second.

"I—" The word pushes out before you think about it. "That's... You-"

Praise is not a part of Illyrian training. You fumble with it, feeling entirely out of your depth, feeling oddly proud of yourself. It feels like your cheeks are warmer than usual.

Cassian chuckles, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "You're welcome." He says pointedly, making you realise you're supposed to say thank you after someone compliments you.

You flounder for another second, making Cassian laugh again, louder this time. He reaches forward and lightly taps you on the shoulder, a faux punch.

"You'll get used to it." He says. Part of you really, really wants to. "Now, c'mon. Let's go again. Hit me."

—

You think that now Cassian's got what he wanted—the two of you training together, learning the plethora of new moves, stances, blocks he has in his repertoire—he wouldn't have anymore questions.

You're sorely, sorely, wrong.

Two mornings later, the pair of you prepare for some sparring with the swords in the ring. Cassian's purposefully picked one of the heavier ones for himself, broad and long, but he'd put aside a blade for you.

It's smaller, lighter. It reminds you of Heartstriker.

Which reminds you of Azriel.

The mere thought of him has your heart humming, miserable and elated all at once. You're still not sure if you'd like to see him just yet, the confusing twist of betrayal too fresh, but still, some part of you seeks him out, consciously or not.

You want to wander the halls until you find the door to leads to him.

It's because he was your first friend. You reason, as you step up towards the sparring ring. He was the first person you trusted. Was? Is—maybe.

Do you still trust him?

Cassian is already in the ring, waiting as patiently as he can. His rustling wings give him away, even as casual as he looks leaned up against one of the corner posts.

His wings are stretched out, towards the sun's rays that are just beginning to slip over the horizon, trying to steal some of their warmth.

A yawn slips past your lips. The night of restful sleep was an outlier it seemed, the tendrils of a calming, easy sleep stolen away just as quickly.

Fingers curling around the hilt of the short sword, you step gingerly into the ring, eyes casting across to your opponent. You roll your shoulders back, warming up the muscles a bit more, and give your own wings a little shake. A shiver wracks through you in response, the chill of the morning touching on sensitive scars.

"Is there a particular reason Azriel is avoiding you?"

Your head snaps up at the sound of Cassian's voice, cool and calm.

He hasn't shifted, though his wings are tucked back in now. His sword is still relaxed at his side, his worn hand tucked around the hilt of it freely.

The usual chattiness that Cassian has been able to coax out of you these last few days shrivels up. Azriel is avoiding you? You hadn't wanted to see him but this—something curls up inside you, sour and foul. You swallow hard.

"I hadn't realised." You murmur, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your words.

Cassian blinks and seems to realise his mistake. He waves a hand dismissively, as if it can scratch away his last words. "I misspoke. I believe he is... keeping his distance."

He furrows his brow, face pinched, picking his words carefully. "For your sake." He adds.

You... don't know how you feel about that. On one hand, you're relieved. It's not by pure chance that you haven't seen him yet, it's purposeful—he's keeping out of your way, giving you peace.

On the other hand, something twined in your chest pangs sorrowfully, mourning the distance between you.

While Cassian's presence as an ally (or perhaps, you'll even admit, a friend) is comforting, you'll admit it does not fill the same shape in you as Azriel does. You miss him, quite terribly so.

"What makes you think he's avoiding me?" You ask.

Cassian gives an little shrug, his head tilting to the side just a bit. He smiles in a way that tells you he knows more than he lets on. Or maybe, he simply knows Azriel far better than you do.

"He usually trains in the morning." He explains nonchalantly. "He's taken to training at night since your arrival."

You frown at the new information. You don't want Azriel to be changing things for you, to bend and warp his routines in his home, just for you. You don't want him to avoid you either, even if you're beginning to think you might never be brave enough to face him.

He left you. He was your first friend and the betrayal of that is entirely too new— but you don't know where to draw the line.

You don't know for how long you're allowed to be upset — or how long you can let this go on before you're punishing yourself just as much as you are him.

Flexing your grip on the sword, you stare across at Cassian and when you open your mouth, the words tumble out with warning.

"He..." Your breath hitches.

Something awful hooks into your chest, remembering the way he had folded himself into shadows, away from you. The look on his face.

"He left me. When I needed him more than ever." You admit.

Your voice doesn't waver but Cassian can still see the slight tremble in your shoulders, rolling in. Your eyes have dropped to study the floor of the sparring ring, seemingly lost in the memory.

Cassian's face softens, his heart aching for you. You don't even notice how your own wings have begun to curl in, a soft, comforting blanket around yourself.

It's clear you're struggling to juggle the myriad of emotions that haunt you and he gets it, Mother, does he get it. It had been hard the first time, during those first tentative months of friendship with Rhys, before Azriel was even in the picture. Cassian had one emotion that served him any purpose and that was spite.

Spite kept him alive. Spite told him who to knock down and who to put down.

Friendships and spite are not the greatest combination. When Rhys had done something Cassian had vehemently disagreed with, it had felt like a deception, stinging as badly as the backhand from Lord Devlon, sneering the word bastard.

It took time to undo the messy tangle of emotions, to learn that not all betrayal fell into the same box. That forgiveness for some people was not weakness at all.

So, Cassian asks. "Did he come back?"

You glance up at him, eyes flickering with emotion at the question. After a moment, you swallow and say. "Yes. He did."

Cassian nods. He stretches his wings out a bit and reaches up to push a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"Alright. How long do you intend to punish him for that mistake?"

You freeze at that question and Cassian can tell he's hit the right spot. You're unsure how long you should—because all you know is that you're hurt. And when you're hurt, you don't know any other way to deal with it.

There's only one pathway ingrained for when someone hurts you. Cassian realises suddenly, Mother help him, that he must try to be good at the talking side of things. He needs to show you there's other ways you can go.

"Because," He continues, not waiting for your answer. "I can assure you that Azriel will punish himself for far longer and far harsher than you ever will. I've known my brother a long time. If there anyone who understands the gravity of his actions and will torture himself over them, it's Azriel."

A hesitant expression shutters across your face, your brows furrowing slightly. Cassian doesn't need Rhys' daemati gift to understand the conflict that's battling within you.

"You think I should forgive him."

You don't pose it as a question. A little bit more of that iciness has bled back into your voice, on guard again.

Cassian can tell that, like him, you don't take well to being told what to do. That's fine; Cassian has no intention of doing that whatsoever.

"I think that is your decision entirely." Cassian says, letting the words breathe so they truly sink in. He watches as your eyes narrow momentarily and then your shoulders relax, sinking down an inch.

"But," He says gingerly. "If you avoid each other, you might never move past this. Might never move forward. It might be worth considering what you really want at the end of the day."

The sun has properly broken across the mountain ridges, no longer just sparse rays. You turn your face, facing towards the warmth. There's still that scrunch between your eyebrows, betraying your deep thought, but Cassian has said enough for now.

He moves his sword and taps the end of it against the stone, a soft steel ping grabbing your attention. You whip your head back to face him and Cassian grins, raising his sword.

"Enough talking. More fighting."

You smile, a little hesitant but entirely genuine, and raise your sword in response. That's one thing you're sure you know how to do right.

[NEXT PART: FRIENDS (AGAIN)]

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[milla984]

With Neighbors Like These

Summary: Jack goes away for the weekend and Aaron and Reader can finally have some alone time (inspired by this concept)

Pairing: post season 12 Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: kissing, mutual masturbation, moderate dirty talk, penetrative sex, protected sex, established relationship, unspecified age gap, Hotch dealing with parenting issues, Jack is mentioned but not present

Word Count: 2k

The house was unusually quiet as you walked in, leaving your shoes at the entrance to proceed barefoot towards the small office Aaron had arranged for himself with a few retouches to the spare room in the back.

Despite having a key in case of emergencies and whatnot, like a very good neighbor, it was a common decision you’d only use it on specific occasions and mostly when Jack wasn’t around. A single soccer cleat lay abandoned in a corner in the living room; were it to happen on a regular day you knew the mere sight of it would have sparked a fierce argument, but this morning was different. 

The evening before a very concerned father had driven his fourteen-year-old son to the arranged meeting point, camping gear in tow, and Jack was now enjoying a two nights excursion somewhere in the local woods. You had a feeling that, conversely, Aaron wasn’t getting a kick out of the child-free weekend - confirmed by his rapid typing on the keyboard when you knocked on the wooden frame of the French door to catch his attention.

He looked at you and cracked a smile, still too focused on what he was doing. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”  

You dropped your purse under his chair and hugged him from behind, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose with pure delight.

“Feeling lonely, already?” 

“Why?!” he enquired. “I didn’t have to shout five times to turn off that damn videogame, last night… and nobody guzzled down half a gallon of milk directly from the bottle, at breakfast!”

“You’re also worried, I can tell,” you added and he shrugged, defeated, then went back to focusing on the screen.

He’d been working part-time as an FBI consultant for a law firm for about a year and you had never seen him putting his job before his kid: he was an active member of the PTA and even volunteered to chaperone whenever he could (something that many moms and other dads found incredibly hot, without a doubt). If he was working on a Saturday he was a hundred percent desperate for a distraction.

Your palms brushed over his shoulders and a delicate touch soon turned into a proper massage, kneading his muscles through the polo shirt he was wearing. 

“Relax. You’re too tense,” you mumbled. He had only shared a few unpleasant details about his life as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in D.C. before he and Jack moved into the neighborhood; nevertheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out his former employment as an FBI agent had taken a huge toll on both of them.

“I’m not sure I should have signed that consent form,” he confessed. 

“His entire class is with him and his teachers all have cell phones, nothing’s going to happen. Save for a few mosquito bites,” you replied. “And don’t get me wrong... but aren’t you being just a bit overprotective?!”

“Jack told me the same thing when I said I wanted to think about it. Except, he didn’t phrase it so nicely,” Aaron grinned and shook his head while he rose to his feet. “Sorry, enough with the family issues,” he apologized, “it’s a lovely Saturday morning. Have you got any interesting plans?” 

“I have. And they don’t involve homework,” you declared, and as you pushed his laptop to the opposite side of the desk he locked an arm around your waist, his expression reverting to a serious one.

“... so you’re a bad influence.”

The intimidating attitude he could pull off with a single stare never failed to make your legs turn into jelly. 

You lowered your voice to a purr. “You don’t even kn—”

His soft lips pressed onto yours stopped you mid-sentence. The fact he had a teenage son registered in your mind only as a foggy thought and the power he’d had on you since the instant you saw him jogging around the block was almost inexplicable.

“You’re right, no more homework. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed and the warmth of his breath on your skin ignited a fire you weren’t at all convinced you could control. Or would.

You hugged him tight, your bodies finally making contact. “How about we take care of something else, first?”

Aaron’s attitude towards romantic relationships exuded manners and consideration, the portrait of a gentleman from a different era, so the response to your suggestion came as a surprise: he’d always shown a preference for the intimacy of his bedroom, even though his palms stroking over your breasts to make your nipples grow stiff and visible through the fabric was the perfect sign he had no intention of wasting any time to move the action upstairs. 

Your tongues lustfully met in a second kiss, prompting you to let out an excited sigh as you blindly undid and removed his belt before letting it fall on the floor with a loud clunk. You reached for his zipper and he sighed in return but gasped a second later when you gave him a light push that forced him to sit down again. 

“Show me how you do it when we’re not together.”

Aaron’s eyes widened - confusion and stupor at the beginning, then the sheer thrill of the idea lit up his gaze. And made him hard entirely.

He sank into the cushion behind his back to finish unzipping his pants and pulling them down his hips so that his swollen erection was only contained by a thin layer of underwear. 

“You’re just going to watch?” he asked, locking eyes with you. You could have sworn that look alone increased the temperature in the room by a couple of degrees. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

You reached under the flowy dress to roll your panties along your thighs, letting them crumple around your ankles; you sat on the desk and lifted the skirt up to your waist, your feet resting on Aaron’s parted knees. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He swallowed nervously but didn’t miss a movement of your fingers starting to draw circles around your most sensitive spot, guided by the aching tension in your belly; your mouth watered at the sight of his cock whipping free and he noticed, so he took his time to wrap his right hand around it.

You knew how to work his length, moving up and down in slow and long strokes as foreplay, nevertheless witnessing such a handsome man masturbating for you proved to be one of the most lascivious experiences of your life.

“I always think about you when I touch myself…” you confessed, and he held on to your ankle with his free hand while you rubbed your clit. 

“Are you trying to make me lose control?”

You nodded in confirmation and he growled. 

He was now coating his shaft and palm with the leaking precum, using only his index and middle finger to collect some of the slickness and spread it over the bulging head, the exposed glans glistening in the process. That was when he usually begged you to move faster, since his delicate skin was lubricated enough and increased friction meant pleasure - not pain.

“I’m really wet for you,” you teased him, your own desire pooling at your core, but his reaction threw you off balance. 

“Stop, please… stop,” he whimpered, “this is not…”    

His ragged breath made it difficult for him to articulate his words. “I need you.”

You gestured at the purse that was still under his chair and he handed it to you; sharing the house with a teenager meant Aaron had grown accustomed to some of his clean t-shirts randomly disappearing from his drawers and wardrobe, so you both knew nothing out of the ordinary could be hidden among his personal stuff. 

He stared at you, entranced, as you retrieved the small box you’d carried with you and tore one of the foil packages open. 

“A little closer, maybe…?” you joked, and when he stood up you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He kissed you lightly on your forehead as you unrolled the latex down his hardness, then you pinched his chin and smiled at him.

“Better?!”   

He whined again. “Not exactly.”

You grabbed him by the nape of his neck, speaking softly to his ear. “Make me come. I can’t wait anymore.”

The uninhibited request seemed to have flipped a switch in him: the sound of a pencil holder spilling its content made you laugh as Aaron enthusiastically raised your legs in the air and held them to his chest, so he could start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds.

It was torture but he was damn good at it.

When he managed to get himself covered in your arousal he slipped the bulbous head past your entrance. “It’s so big…” you muttered.

Truth be told he wasn’t that well-endowed and you had nothing against it, since you’d never been keen on painful sex, still you welcomed him with a loud moan once he buried himself inside of you. Even a gentleman from another era didn’t mind a bit of flattering and appreciation of his manhood. 

He wasn’t as vocal, though, but his deep groans reverberated in his throat in a manifestation of primal, untamed passion; he looked so solemn it drove you insane, his brows furrowed and tiny droplets of sweat trapped between his short hair, almost as if he was directing all of his energies into screwing your brains out.

When his thrusts grew slower but more intense you wriggled your legs free and locked them around his waist: with a last, fierce grunt he twitched several times and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment, which was always the biggest turn-on for you.

With your eyes still closed you welcomed the pressure on your lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to take his index and middle finger in your mouth; you sucked on them alternately, happy to oblige, tasting traces of the salty precum. You clawed at his forearm when he brought the wet digits to your clit, rubbing and drawing circles just like you’d shown him before.

“Aaron… I’m…” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you - indeed - came with his throbbing cock still inside you, lungs pleading for air and inner muscles clenching around him.

He collapsed on top of you, the additional weight making you realize how harsh the desk’s smooth surface was on your back, yet you cupped his face and stroked his flustered cheeks with your thumbs. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathed out as soon as you were able to.

He pulled out and started to fix his clothes, and before he got rid of the condom he planted the sweetest kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry about the other weekend. Jack wasn’t supposed to play, last minute change of plans—”

“Don’t be sorry, I know you love going to his games,” you said, propping up on one elbow to straighten yourself as he stood in front of you. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your biggest fans, would you?”

He was still heaving a little and looked at you with a pensive pout. “... what?!”

“I mean, you’ve seriously never noticed…?” you locked your hands behind his neck as you tried to come up with a good imitation of the cooing voice of the soccer moms who you knew swarmed the sidelines every time he was present.

“Aaron, can you help us move the coolers? Aaron, we need to rearrange those chairs! Aaron, come here and have some cake! We made it for you ‘cause you’re such a good dad and it’s soooooo hot!”

He laughed, the vibrations in his ribcage making your breasts jiggle, then he gave you his best smile to date. “You’re jealous?!”

You shrugged, holding him closer. “No. To be honest I don’t even blame them, you are a good dad. Which is very hot, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he laughed again as he wrapped you in his arms to kiss you one more time, forcing you to close your eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. You muffled a surprised gasp when he playfully nipped at your earlobe with another heart-stopping smile. 

“But just to be clear…” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s usually cookies, not cake!”

NB: I don't really have an Aaron Hotchner fic taglist 'cause I usually write about Spencer Reid but if you wish to be tagged in future Hotch-centric works (SFW or not, who knows?) you can either send me an ask or leave a comment below.

[wysteria-bloom]

" You can ride my face, don't want nothin' in return "

ᯓ geto suguru (minors dni)

He leans in, his warm breath tickling her sensitive folds as he inhales her sweet scent. Then, without warning, he presses his skilled tongue flat against her clit, giving it a long, slow lick. The way he worships her pussy with his mouth has her writhing in pleasure.

Her free hand reaches out to entangle in his hair, holding him close as she grinds against his face shamelessly.

As Geto continues his relentless oral assault on her pussy, he looks up at her with those piercing eyes and murmurs, "You love it, huh?" He teased out in amusement and smugness, his eyes crinkling at the sound of her pleasured moans as his words vibrated against her soaked folds.

Geto delves deeper, his skilled tongue probing the entrance of her dripping hole before plunging inside, swirling and teasing her inner walls. He alternates between thrusting his tongue deep and flicking it rapidly over her swollen clit, driving her wild with intense pleasure.

Her hand tightens in his hair.

He growls possessively around her flesh as he feels her hand tighten in his hair, pulling him closer. He hooks his arms under her thighs and wraps them around his shoulders, burying his face deeper between her thighs and devouring her ravenously," so pretty f'me... always drivin' me insane..." He grumbled.

The wet, slurping sounds of Geto's mouth devouring her slick folds fill the room as he noisily laps at her quivering flesh. His mouth is so loud against her sensitive skin that it sounds like he's drinking from a fountain.

Geto's desperation reaches a fever pitch as he realizes that she is on the brink of climax. He doubles his efforts, sucking hard on her clit while furiously finger-fucking her dripping pussy. His nose presses against her soaked labia as he inhales her essence, his mouth making obscene, gulping noises.

With a final, loud slurp, Geto seals his mouth over her clit and sucks hard as he thrusts two fingers deep inside her spasming hole. The sudden intense sensation pushes her over the edge, and she comes undone with a scream. Her body tenses as the first wave of her orgasm crashes over her. She lets out a loud, high-pitched cry of his name, her pussy contracting and pulsing around his fingers. Geto continues to lick and suck, drawing out her pleasure as she rides out the intense climax.

As her orgasm subsides, Geto smacks her sensitive pussy teasingly, grinning wickedly at her gasp.

"Still want more, don't you?" He murmurs confidently before pressing a sloppy, lingering kiss to her twitching folds, savoring her taste," Yeah... 'course you do..."

16:21 , Friday 27th December

[wickedusername]

You'll never know dick as good as mine.

Itadori Yuji+Ryomen Sukuna x fem!Reader

Synopsis:

Nothing sexual had happened yet between you and your boyfriend Yuji, and for a very good reason. He was terrified of what the demon possessing him might do if he ever got steamy with you. But once you push past the fear, you find out the demon Sukuna wants you just as bad – except he's rough, posessive, and absolutely unhinged.

Disclaimers: Yuji is over 18 in this. This assumes Yuji has had Sukuna for years. I don't like "y/n", your name is Namae. Everything else is jjk-consistent. Art and text are all handmade by me. MDNI.

Tw: inexperienced Yuji, rough sex (gagging, slapping, pain), swearing, namecalling, posessiveness, masturbation talk, a little hint of mindbreak talk, mention of murder (to avoid it).

Word count: 6,9k words (nice)

Epigraph:

“I need to destroy you, sweetheart. I need to make that brat sorry he ever let me near you. You won't sit for weeks. He will never satisfy you again. – he tilted his chin to whisper into your lips – You'll never know dick as good as mine.”

His hand on your thigh made it hard to pay attention to the show. Yuji's. Gently caressing your skin. You held out for a long time trying to focus but whenever the plot lulled and the caressing continued, you became laser focused on the feeling of him. It was his sofa... his apartment... nobody else but the two of you... It gave you... ideas.

You see, Itadori Yuji had been dating you for a while now. You knew he was a Jujutsu Sorcerer. He had already been one when you met him. You could see curses, but you were not. You knew about the messed up stuff he'd been through. And you knew about Ryomen Sukuna.

Sukuna. The reason nothing sexual ever happened between you. Always passively watching. Yuji was terrified of what Sukuna might do if you got steamy. And not unjustifiably: Even after vouching to stay away from Itadori's personal life, he didn't seem to have that restraint with you. His nasty mouth had already blurted out Yuji's desires to you, always to belittle and humiliate him. Yes, Sukuna was extremely powerful and strong yada yada. That might've even been kind of attractive if all you knew of him from personal interaction wasn't him having fun at your boyfriend's expense and saying nasty things about you.

So when you placed your own hand on Yuji's leg and kissed him, you knew what might be coming. But you didn't care. He was your boyfriend, and screw Sukuna. And right now, your boyfriend was getting you too riled up to ignore.

Yuji completely gave in to the kiss, holding your face with both hands to pull you close. Neither of you paid any attention to the TV anymore. He turned and twisted your head in the direction of his kiss, eventually moving his hands to your hair and completely messing it up.

When the two of you pulled away from each other after a sultry, long kiss, there was a tension in the air. A hesitancy. What now. What of... you know... Sukuna. But you pushed right past it. Screw Sukuna. Screw if he mocks you, berates you, or yells down both your ears. You wanted your boyfriend.

You brought a leg across Yuji's body, sitting on his lap. He looked up at you seeking confirmation, but you just kissed him again. He latched onto you passionately, pulling you in against his frame. You made out as he grinded you against his toned body. His tongue swirled around yours, exploring your mouth, throwing your tongue about. Against your lower region you could feel the outline of his bulge, begging to get free.

Your hands were all over. He felt your breasts, your butt, your waist, he latched on to the back of your neck as if he would never let go. And you explored his arms, his hair, under his shirt. Fuck, how can a normal human man have this defined of an abdomen. You felt him up his back, down his abs, until you reached the rim of his shorts. The two of you pulled away to look at each other for consent before you tentatively placed a hand over his outline. You had never felt it up before. It was longer than you had imagined. But what else to expect of Itadori Yuji, the overachiever.

Still looking at you for approval, he unbuttoned your jean shorts and slid his palm down the opening to cup your own sex. He wasn't gonna let you do this just for him. You palmed each other ever so eagerly, which turned to fondling, which turned to straight up mutual masturbation. You burrowed your face in his hair while he flicked your clit over your panties as they soaked. His fingers alternated between teasing your clit and sliding between your folds, soaking your underwear with slick. Meanwhile he hid in the crevices of your neck, placing soft kisses in sync with your stroking of his dick, even if through his underwear. You felt up and down his shaft, the shape of his head, the slit at the tip. You wanted nothing more than to have it inside you.

You did this for an embarrassing amount of time. Each time things got risky for either of you, you stopped, caught your breath, focused only on them for a while, until inevitably they got too hot and asked to stop as well. It could go on forever. Just the two of you, like this, feeling each other. But it wouldn't.

– Just fuck already, for fuck's sake! – a familiar, unpleasant voice yelled from Itadori's cheek.

– Oh hell no, not you! – Yuji scrunched up his entire face and threw his head back in frustration. Everything you two had going on fell to pieces.

– What's the hold up, are you too much of a pussy? – Sukuna scowled at Yuji resentfully.

– You! You're the hold up! You sick leering pervert, go mind your own business! – Yuji yelled at his own cheek.

– Unfortunately, I can't, so I might as well find entertainment in yours. If you're not gonna fuck her, let me do it.

– Are you insane? I'm not letting you touch her with a ten foot pole.

– Wouldn't you know it, I have a ten foot pole! My dick. Now give me control.

You couldn't help but lightly snort at his absurdist remark, and you immediately covered your mouth, but still both of them heard it through your resounding quietude.

– Well aren't I a charmer? She's into it! – Sukuna's mouth shifted into a smug grin.

– No I am not! – You made sure to correct him, but still held back a smile.

– I don't think either of us are into your crap, Sukuna. Piss off. – Yuji rebuked.

– Fuck me. – Sukuna rolled his eye way back into its socket. – Yuji, you inexperienced, dumb motherfucker. She's so fucking horny, and you're too much of an idiot to even answer to it. She wants dick so bad, don't you sweetheart? – Sukuna stared your messy body up and down. – I could fuck you so good.

Unfortunately for everyone, he was right. You were horny. And Yuji was inexperienced. Well, he wasn't a virgin since high school, but not much else after that, especially with Sukuna hanging around for so long. You didn't have much better of a repertoire, sure, but that still just meant Sukuna was the most sexually active of all of you – and he wasn't sexually active for centuries. Before you could say anything, he resumed his argument with Itadori.

– I've seen you jerking off to her a hundred fucking times, at least seeing you go at it in real life will give me something more interesting to look at than your weak-ass stroke game.

You covered your mouth to hide the small, sympathetic smile planted on your lips. Itadori's face turned bright red, and he stuttered trying to figure out what he should do first, curse out Sukuna or explain himself to you. But you? You were endeared by this conversation. Charmed. Both of them wanted you. Your boyfriend had been fantasizing about you for months and Ryomen Sukuna the king of curses, instead of cussing and slandering you, wanted to give you the fucking of a lifetime. You were tempted to accept. Both of them.

Yuji swallowed his pride, collected his thoughts and took a deep breath before turning to you.

– Sukuna, you shut up. Namae... I... If Sukuna isn't a bother, do you... want to head to the bedroom? I still really want you. Despite everything.

– Itadori Yuji... I've wanted you to ask this for so long. – You placed your elbows over his shoulders and crossed your wrists behind him lovingly.

– Fucking finally! – Sukuna sighed, but was promptly interrupted.

– This is not happening if you don't shut your mouth, Sukuna! – Yuji assured his possessor.

– Fine. But I'm gonna enjoy this. – Sukuna closed his features into Yuji's face with a mean smirk.

Yuji turned to you wide-eyed, as if to say "can you believe this guy?", but you didn't care. You just wanted Yuji, and if the King of Curses got off on it, that just... honestly? kinda made it hotter.

When you planted a soft kiss on your boyfriend's lips, you hoped he wasn't afraid of Sukuna anymore. He scooted away from the backrest and pushed your legs from folded beside him to wrapping around his waist so he could carry you away. And he so easily got up from the couch, carrying your weight and his with just his leg strength, softly squishing where his grip met your ass.

He placed delicate nose rubs in your neck and into your hair while he looked at the way he was going. His shirt smelled like sports deodorant and his hair like bubblegum shampoo. He placed you down onto his bed like a princess, and proceeded to stare in fascination at the sight of you. On his bed. Finally.

Yuji walked to the end of the bed and pulled off your shoes like you were a doll, then slid his palms soothingly up your thighs to the rim of your already unbuttoned shorts. You lifted your hips so he could pull them down. As you did, you held your arms outstretched to him.

He stuck his face in your breasts as he slithered his arms under your shirt to your bra. You wrapped your own over his neck to crumple his shirt on your palms, pulling on it to reveal his unbelievably muscular back.

He pulled himself away from your chest to remove your shirt. You had to let go of his shirt, which fell back over him, but not for long. He stood up himself and pulled his shirt off from the neck, that way guys did that you found crazy sexy. You were mesmerized at Yuji's physique. Even though you had seen him shirtless before, he'd never looked this hot. While he was still standing he removed his shorts, but stopped at the rim of his boxers. Were you really doing this? Sukuna watching and everything? He had been so afraid of Sukuna for so long, it never felt at all possible.

– I-ta-do-ri. Come on, I want you! – you snapped him out of it.

– Oh... I'm sorry. Just... Can I take off yours first?

You replied by reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra. After a few tries, of course. It's never as easy as in the movies.

Itadori put one knee on the mattress and leaned over you to delicately pull down your bra straps and pull the cups down, revealing your breasts to him for the first time.

– You're so pretty, Namae... – You wriggled the straps off of your arms, throwing the bra off to the side, and cupped his face. – I want to bury my face in you and never let go.

– You can. Yuji. I'm yours... – you smiled softly at him, and he lowered himself to leave kiss after kiss all over your torso.

He kissed your nipples, your breasts, your ribs, your belly, your belly, your belly, lower and lower. He placed his fingers on the rim of your panties and pulled them down slowly, taking in every patch of skin revealed to him. He pulled them smoothly down your legs until he could throw it off to the side, roughly towards where you'd thrown your bra. He leaned over again and placed soft kisses on your clit and on your labia, moving his jaw into pouts so his lip dragged against you. He could have done more but he felt his dick twitch and he couldn't resist much longer.

– Ah, I'm sorry to rush, but I need to be inside you... – he inched closer as he grabbed his dick through his boxers, a wet patch of precum staining the place where his tip pressed against the cotton.

– Get inside me, Yuji... I need you so bad! – you reached out to him and placed your fingers over the rim of his underwear, urging them off.

Itadori pulled them off finally, revealing his smooth, pink, long dick. It looked so inviting. As soon as all his clothes were off, Yuji climbed on top of you missionary style, holding his dick and panting in excitement as he placed his tip against your sex, making you open your legs for him. With an arm beside your head to support him, you could appreciate his body so well.

– I'm gonna get in... – he warned before finding your entrance with his head and pushing his tip inside with a moan. He placed his nose against your cheek and closed his eyes, then shoved his way further inside until he was in to the hilt.

– Yuji! Slower! – you whined at the feeling of him. He felt so much bigger than he looked when he was inside you.

– Sorry.. I'm just so excited to fuck you. – he giggled, then lowered his arms in a push-up to kiss you tenderly.

He slid in and out of you repeatedly, his abs having no issue in doing all of the work. You pressed your legs against his sides but his thrusts just forced them down into the bed again, and his rhythm felt so regular and so good inside you. You lowered a hand to touch youself while he rammed into you, flicking your clit, feeling the pubic region of his six-pack pressing into your hand time and time again.

– do you want me to do that for you? – Yuji asked after noticing your hand.

– No, you focus on filling me up, I know how to touch myself best. – your other hand cupped his cheek and you brought him down to place a peck on his lips, on his jaw, then on... a mouth?

You gasped as you tried to pull back and realized your lip was stuck between sukuna's teeth, on a mouth in Yuji's cheek. He let go right after with a smirk, but you were still surprised. Yuji realized what happened and slowed down, unable to just stop.

– Sukuna! You said you weren't interrupting! – Yuji sighed in frustration, trying to just focus on his pace.

– What are you gonna do, stop mid-sex? - Sukuna guffawed. Yuji wouldn't stop now and he knew it.

– It's fine, Yuji. Just focus on me. – You turned Yuji's face to you again, looking him deep in the eyes, and he let out a relieved smile.

Itadori picked up his pace again and looked at your face the entire time, just taking in the view of you, your hair messy, framing your flushed face, smiling at him and whimpering at his thrusts. His hands right beside your face, reminding him that he wasn't imagining, it was really him on top of you. Sweat planting on your forehead from the pressure in your core, bringing you closer to the edge. Small droplets of sweat coming down his hair. It was all too much.

– I'm so close! – Yuji exclaimed, his pounding against you never changing.

– Hey brat, come outside, don't ruin her pussy for me! – Sukuna barked.

– Oh piss off! – Yuji retorted toward his cheek – you're too good to pull out of...

You nodded yes. He knew you had a contraceptive. He could come inside you as much as he wanted. He would come inside you. He would come inside you right now.

Yuji moaned loudly as his dick twitched inside you, filling you with warm cum. His breath caught in his throat, his vision filling with stars. His pace slowed down as his body couldn't process any more effort. You stopped touching yourself to hold his chest up, as it seemed his arms would give out.

– Fuck! Wow! – Itadori groaned as he grinded to a halt, his member still shaking, releasing the last pumps of semen it could muster. – you.. – a stop to catch his breath – you're so amazing.

Yuji plopped down to his elbows, panting, and placed a breathy, deep kiss on your mouth. You smiled at each other tenderly.

– Now step aside, brat, it's my turn to fuck her. – Sukuna's mouth commanded

– No way in hell! – his contentment shifted quickly to annoyance.

– It's ok, Yuji... He can do it... I want Sukuna to have me too... – you spoke softly, tentatively wondering what a taste of Sukuna's stregth would feel like. You still hadn't come, anyway. Sukuna's mouth smiled like it had won the lottery and let out a hearty laugh.

– Isn't she a little freak! You heard her, brat! Let me out! – The mouth snarled.

– Fuck no, you're gonna kill her!

– If it will convince you to let me have her, I won't kill her, I swear it on a pact.

– Or hurt her! – Yuji added.

– ..or harm her. Pact. I'll fuck her good and then I'm out. – Sukuna stared up at Yuji excitedly wide-eyed, truly meaning it.

Yuji turned to you.

– Are you sure?

– Yuji.. it's ok. – you whisper with a reassuring smile.

– It's a pact, Sukuna!! – Itadori shouted down at his own chest.

– Sealed! – Sukuna barely contained his excitement.

With a defeated sigh, Yuji relaxed his worried eyebrows.

– This is just because you asked, Namae.

Hesitantly, he let Sukuna take over his body, tattoos bleeding through his skin like ink through paper.

– Well, I just might hurt her a tiny bit. – His eyes and two more opened with bright red pupils and Sukuna ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back to feel more like himself.– Now you. Time we show this brat what a real fuck looks like.

Sukuna grabbed your ass roughly, shoving his fingers between you and the mattress to lift your hips up to his eye level. You let out a surprised yelp as he held you in a hip raise.

– Ah, Sukuna! – your whimper fell on deaf ears.

– Look what a mess he made in this pretty pussy. – He put two fingers inside you and scooped out a spoonful of cum, before leaning over you and bringing his fingers to your mouth.

– Lick them clean. – he darted his fingers to your lips, parting them easily. You sucked the sour-salty goop off his hand and licked thoroughly around his black nails, all while looking him in the eyes with lust gleaming in your stares.

– what a good whore you are...

You hummed in agreement. Sukuna pulled out his hand, dragging a thin strand of drool with it, and immediately brought it back to your asscheek, squeezing them tight and lowering his head right down to your sex to inspect it closely.

– Look at this pretty pink cunt... that idiot kid didn't even lick it. I need to know what it tastes like...

With that, he burrowed his face in you, pushing your hips into the mattress with his hands still under it to hold your pussy angled right at him. Sukuna licked up and down your slit multiple times, humming at the taste, before mercilessly sucking on your clit like one does a thick milkshake while flicking his tongue into it at a crazy pace. The curse extracted helpless moans from your mouth at the feeling building up inside you overwhelmingly fast.

Make no mistake, he didn't care about your pleasure. He cared about tasting you, about absolutely humiliating Yuji's attempt at oral, about making sure you were never going to have a better experience than him. He was in to get you hooked. And he was a drug with an alarming addiction rate.

– Ah- Sukuna! It's too much! – you gripped the markings on his wrists and curled your toes against his back as tension built at your core.

– Hmm? – He moaned into you before pulling up to look at you, ruining all the momentum he had going. – I'm not letting up until I taste your cum, so the more you call for me to stop the longer we'll be here. I'd shut up and come if I were you.

You bit your lip and nodded yes, not wanting to say another word to interrupt him. He lowered his face back to your clit and ran circles into it with his tongue while looking you in the eye and watching you melt under his mouth. With a moan, you threw your head back into the pillow, which he took as a signal to go full force on the sucking. With a closed set of eyes keeping him focused on your clit and another looking down at your entrance, he brought two fingers inside of you and thrusted with them softly, rubbing against the back of your clit with his digits.

You didn't last long with that pace. Within a minute you were clenching around his fingers with loud involuntary moans and releasing your juices all over his fingers. Before you were even over it, Sukuna's mouth had swapped places with his hand and he was slipping his tongue into your entrance, licking up your juices like they were syrup.

– Hummm – He licked one last patch up your slit, leaving a sticky trail of saliva and cum connected to his tongue. As he licked his lips, you couldn't help but become extremely turned on by his smug expression. – just as sweet as I thought. You loved this, didn't you? Whore.

You nodded eagerly, biting your bottom lip with furrowed eyebrows, face pink as a shrimp. Sukuna licked up whatever was on his fingers and looked at you sternly.

– Now turn around, I don't fuck like that vanilla brat. – he held you by the waist and turned you on your belly effortlessly, before kneeling between your legs and pulling your hips off the bed to the height of his dick.

You made a motion to lift your torso and stand on all fours to see him better, but Sukuna promptly grabbed your head and shoved the side of your face into the mattress.

– I didn't tell you to move, greedy bitch. You don't get to pick how you'll stand.

– Sukuna... you can fuck me however you want... – you mumbled to appease him, and he released some of the weight from his push.

— That's more like it. Acting like the dirty whore you are. – He slapped your ass hard enough to leave a red handprint on it. From the side of your peripheral you could see him ever so slightly.

Swiftly, he positioned his member on your entrace and slid in to the hilt. With how wet you were, and having taken it before, it entered laughably easily. With another hard slap on your ass, he started pumping into you at a leisurely pace but strikingly hard, ramming the bedframe against the wall with each pump.

– Ah, this puny brat's cock isn't enough... you should have seen mine. – He tilted his head to the side in pleasure, staring intently at the place where he slid in and out of you. – Fuck.. – another slam – I'd be ripping you in half...

He threw his head back as he continued ramming into you, making you bite the sheets and grip the bed to take him.

– Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!! – He exclaimed as he couldn't hold it anymore and his dick twitched inside you, filling you with his cum. He groaned, his legs shook and his hands gripped the sides of your hips so hard they would leave 10 well-defined bruises, only letting go after he was done.

– Shit. Fuck. – Sukuna dropped his weight into your back, making you collapse to the mattress under him. – I haven't fucked someone is so many centuries, I barely lasted five minutes... Even going so slow...

After catching his breath, he pushed himself off you to the side where he would face you, before lifting your chin with one hand to look you in the eyes.

– Sorry princess, but I'm gonna need a round two. I'm not done with you yet.

– Is- isn't that against your pact? – you muttered timidly, afraid of what he might do to you if you bothered him.

– The pact was I fuck you good. Was that good enough for you? Because it definitely wasn't for me.

Before you could answer, he pulled your face towards him so your forehead touched his and his red eyes were staring from the shadow straight into yours. His voice lowered to a deep rumble.

– I need to destroy you, sweetheart. I need to make that brat sorry he ever let me near you. You won't sit for weeks. He will never satisfy you again. – he tilted his chin to whisper into your lips – You'll never know dick as good as mine.

A shiver flew down your spine as Sukuna flung you around on your back and pinned you against the bed. He didn't as much kiss you as he did spit in your mouth, shove his tongue in it and lick it all around, staring you down the entire time. Not a minute into it, he bit your lip until he could taste blood. You moaned and tears formed in your eyes, but it's not like you could talk with his mouth on yours. As soon as he moved his mouth down to your throat, you tried to clammer for restraint.

– SUKUN- – You didn't even finish his name before he slammed his hand over your mouth, gripping your cheeks, keeping you quiet. All you could do was mutter muffled curses into his hand and scratch his back and arm as hard as you could, as he bit and sucked tens of painful, visible hickeys into every part of your neck. All those purple marks to make it clear that you had been his. Not Itadori's. His.

His other hand let go of your wrist to roughly fondle your breast as he planted more hickeys on your shoulders, and you took the opportunity to use both your hands against him. You grabbed his wrist and his fingers to bite hard into his hand, hoping it would make him let go.

You bit him. You bit him harder. You felt like you could have ripped a piece of his flesh by now. He finished a hickey with a loud pop and chuckled into your collarbone, not moving his hand a single inch. He brought his face up to you.

– You want to talk that bad? – He tittered. – How pathetic. But I'll concede. – He removed his hand from your mouth.

– Sukuna!! What the hell! – You yelled in a desperate plea.

– What? Didn't you ask for this? – His face grew a huge shit-eating grin, thoroughly entertained by your distress.

– That hurt so bad! You said no hurting!!

– I said no harm. Big difference. What's the harm in a little rough play? – Mid-sentence, he stood up on his knees and threw your entire body over his shoulder. He scooted himself off the bed and planted you down in front of him. Without a hitch, he shoved you to your knees, bruising those too. You didn't even have time to react.

– Now shut the fuck up and get this stupid human dick hard again.

He gripped your hair hard and pushed your head close to his semi-hard dick. You had no idea how this body was already boasting a semi after coming twice, but you weren't complaining. It was only once for the curse, you figured.

You wrapped your fingers around his base and placed his tip on your tongue, but before you could do any movement yourself, Sukuna gripped your head still and buried himself all the way to your throat, gagging you. He didn't wait: he fucked your mouth himself, gagging you every time he pushed in. You closed your eyes and gasped for air whenever you could and tears started running down your face from the gagging.

– Oh come on! You're not a bitchy crybaby, are you? – he pulled himself halfway out, letting you breathe.

You weren't. You didn't want him to stop.You looked up at him in a dead-serious stare swirling your tongue around his tip. His smile opened wide as you slid your head up his cock, up the tattooed lines on his shaft that extended all the way to his groin.

– That's what I'm talking about! That's the dirty whore I want! You fucking slut!

He pulled hard on your hair and resumed fucking your mouth until your face was turning purple from lack of air. He pulled himself out and painfully hoisted you up by your hair until it forced you to stand up.

– You're such a good hoe. You deserve to get dicked down so good.

Sukuna bent his knees to reach your thighs and pulled you up to carry you on his lap, much like Yuji had done. You wrapped your legs and arms around him for support, and he walked slowly towards the end of the bed. He took his sweet time grinding you against him, groping your ass hard and shoving his face into the back of your ear to plant another hickey. With your legs spread, the cum from his last orgasm dripped down your ass and into the floor. Instead of throwing you on the bed like you expected, he turned around and sat on it with you on his lap.

– You're gonna be good whore and sit on this dick for me, won't you sweetheart?

– I will... I want it so bad...

He held his shaft at the base, ready for you. With his guiding hand on your hip, you sat on him, feeling filled once again. His hand gripped the side of your ass, guiding you to hop up and down on his cock. This position made him reach so deep inside you. His other hand forced your head down and both of you watched as the end of his tattoo disappeared and reappeared from inside your cunt.

– Faster. – Sukuna commanded. He licked your neck and placed the other hand on your hip to fully control your pace. He lifted you up and down repeatedly and ever more strongly, like he wasn't getting enough. You hopped on him for a full minute while he licked the markings he left on you, and yet he seemed completely unneffected.

– Faster! – he was almost entirely lifting you with his arm strength for each slam, but your thigh muscles were still burning from the sustained effort.

– I can't go any faster! — You cried out to Sukuna, and he groaned.

– This is just too goddamn slow.

He held you by the waist with both hands, lifted you off his cock and put you down beside him. For a second you though he would ask you something but in the blink of an eye he grabbed your neck and shoved you forwards into the bed. Before you had time to react, he was over you, dragging you by the nape, shoving your face in front of the pillow. He turned you around to face him and lifted your legs over his bulging biceps. Before you could do anything, he placed his hands on the sides of your waist, forcing your legs up, keeping you stuck in a mating press.

Before you could even adjust yourself, his dick was inside you again, slamming into you so hard and fast it felt inhuman. It was. He was hitting so deep you thought he was going to tear your labia open. His balls slammed against the bottom of your asscheeks, leaving them red. And the pace, oh god the pace. He was slamming as fast as a vibrator. It hurt your everything, your leg muscles being pushed up past your flexibility, your pussy sore, your back rubbing against the sheets harshly, your belly getting hit so deep you think it he might as well be hitting your cervix, but you couldn't even tell.

Sukuna lowered his head to your chest, sucking roughly on your nipples and biting them raw, never letting up on his pounding.

– Su- kun- ah!– you managed to let out as much as your breath would let you. Tears from the pain distorted your vision, making you unable to see his expression when he turned his head to you. – Less!!! – Is all you managed to let out.

– No. – Was all he replied.

Sukuna lifted his torso and slithered his arm away from one of your legs. He wrapped his hand around your throat, choking you, restraining you from speaking any more. It felt relieving to have nothing pushing your leg down past your point of comfort, but he was still pounding you at full force and you didn't dare keep it any less raised than Sukuna had left it. And you were right to do so.

– Keep those legs up, I don't still have four arms to hold them down while I touch you. – Sukuna commanded while he slithered his other arm away to touch your clit.

If you thought his thrusting was too much, he was amping it up a notch by choking you and flicking your clit with his thumb while he did it. All you could do was whimper and close your eyes, making the accumulated tears roll down your cheeks.

– "I know how to touch myself best", little whore. You must touch yourself all the time, don't you? But you don't know how to touch yourself best, I do.

Sukuna pressed his thumb on your clit and found the sweet spot under the hood, and immediately flicked into it as fast as a vibrating toy. He knew where to look. He knew what to do. And he didn't leave the sweet spot no matter how much his thrusts shook the bed.

Heat built up in your stomach so strongly that you were sweating. Both your hands held his wrist, trying to pull back his chokehold. Your feet twitched, restless, and you pushed with the plant of your feet against his muscular deltoids, digging your toes into his tattoos, unable to stay still.

– I'm gonna use you until you break, you little whore. – Sukuna lowered his face to as close to yours as he could to blurt out depravities to your ear. – You'll beg Yuji for my dick for the rest of your life.

This was it. You released what was probably the strongest orgasm you ever had, rippling through you in waves, squeezing around Sukuna's dick and his merciless pounding. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you screamed out with whatever part of your throat that wasn't being choked, which resulted in a loud, breathless whimper. He roared with laughter at the feeling of your walls clenching against him.

He just kept pounding. Your sensitive walls were no reason for his mercy, and to your horror, his thumb pressed on your clit again as soon as you were done squeezing.

– One more! Then I'll fill you up. – Sukuna grinned, all four eyes wide, staring at your fucked out, fearful face with sick glee.

His touch on your sensitive clitoris burned like fire, but it hurt so good, and heat kept building up in your core confusingly, mixing what was your previous orgasm still fading out, what was new heat building up. Were you still riding the same wave? Were you building up a new one? Everything just felt like an orgasm, all of his touches made your walls squeeze around him.

You gasped for air desperately and Sukuna released his grip on your neck so he could make sure he wouldn't kill you and risk breaking a pact. You brought your hands to scratch his neck and back in protest, using your nails to pierce as deep as you could, doing your best to draw blood, but everything you did healed immediately. You pushed him with your feet and pulled him with your hands and yet he wouldn't budge, nothing seemed to have an effect.

With Sukuna's unrelenting touch and pulse within you, your head spun. Your abdomen spasmed, clenching with pleasure, everything felt like electricity. Everything that hurt, hurt so good. He groped your breasts with the hand that was choking you before and you didn't even notice it at first because everything else was so overwhelming. You were sweating, flushed, tensing all the muscles in your body worse than the world's most exhausting exercise.

You wanted to protest but nothing came out of your mouth but unhinged, sporadic moans. It's not that you didn't care about bothering the neighbors, but it didn't even cross your mind. It couldn't. There was no space in your brain to process it. Sukuna teased and cursed at you, calling you names, uttering so many dirty remarks, and you barely processed any of it. Everything you could feel was so strong, it numbed your other four senses. The only way you could hold yourself grounded was focusing on your hands scraping the back of his neck.

When you came again, you didn't know it was possible to come this hard. All the pressure that had built up in you just released, burst after burst, and you couldn't contain the loudest, involuntary moan that ever left your mouth. It woke up the neighbors. Your walls squeezed shut every time he slid out before he forced is way through again. Your hands clawed at him, pulling with all you had at the short hairs in the back of his neck, your body convulsed, and you creamed all over him. With his pulsing still uninterrupted, you felt some of it slide out and run down your crack. That's how much you'd come. Sukuna finally, finally stopped pounding into you.

– What a good, wet cunt you are! – Sukuna praised you, bringing the hand from your clit to your waist, petting your belly like the congratulatory pet you'd give a dog.– you're so slick for me, fucking you is gonna be so easy.

You were still catching your breath. He grabbed the pillows from the top of the bed, one after the other, and slid out of you for only a minute to put them under your hips. Instead of fucking you with his legs outstretched, he was now kneeling in front of you.

– Hm. Not tall enough. I don't suppose you can wheelbarrow with those lanky arms, can you? – You didn't reply. You didn't even know what a wheelbarrow was. – I'll take that as a no.

Sukuna lifted your hips to the height of his dick and entered you while kneeled, forcing you to flex your abdomen in a hip raise so you wouldn't fall into the bed. He held no reservations, slamming into you as hard as he had at the start, but faster. Your pussy was dangerously sore by now, but the wetness made him glide in so easily still. You had no idea how he hadn't come yet.

– If he never lets me near you again, remember this – he continued the loud slamming that was scratching the floor and chipping paint from the wall at the edges of the bedframe's panel. – I only let Yuji fuck you at all because he's the middle man here. You are mine to fuck. You will beg for me again, won't you?

– But- – Sukuna stuffed his fingers into your mouth.

– But nothing. This is a yes or no question. You will beg to have me again, won't you?

– Yes... Sukuna... – you confessed, drooling on his fingers. It wasn't a lie. Your head still spun from pleasure. Maybe you would regret this after your head cleared out, but if Yuji took his body back right now, you would plead, thrash and beg for Sukuna. He was a completely different experience, and it was mindnumbing.

– Good whore. – He held your hips in place and pounded into you with gusto. – I'm gonna fill you up so bad, you'll be dripping cum for hours, you tight, nasty bitch.

He slammed hard into you, everything sore, everything hurting. Your shoulders chafed from the the weight of your body and the strength of his slams. You brought your hands to your mouth to bear it, biting on the meat of your palm. Sukuna just kept pounding, ripping your open, with deep grunts not from effort, but from pleasure.

You thought you couldn't bear another second of it before you heard his grunts get interupted by his own hitching breath, and his hands digging into you again, piercing your skin with his nails, his abs contracting, outlining the bumps in his six-pack, his neck bulging. He came inside you again with a loud grumble and all you felt was his strokes becoming inconsistent, his dick twitching wildly while the tried to pump more, until he finally stopped and dropped down to the bed, sitting over his knees. His breath was erratic, and his sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. And yet he could still look you in the eye with a chuckle.

He leaned in and placed his palms at your sides, towering over you. Then, Sukuna gave you the sweetest smile you'd ever seen on his face and planted a sloppy, passionate kiss goodbye on your mouth. Just because he could. Just out of spite. Just to leave his taste on your mouth. Then he grinned smugly.

– Heh. Have fun masturbating to this memory forever. – He grimaced with twisted pride at his own remark – See you next time if Itadori isn't too humiliated to ever touch you again.

With that line, Sukuna closed his eyes and melted away. His wide smile faded along with his markings, and Yuji's hazel eyes opened back up with a stunned, terrified glare.

Immediately, all of Yuji's muscles gave out. His entire body was sore. He fell with a grunt into the bed with barely enough strength to turn on his back and stare incredulously at the ceiling.

– what... the fuck. What the FUCK!  – Yuji yelled at nothing, panting. He was horrified.

– ...what the fuck. – you were starstruck.

[darkpetal16]

Hi, anon from the jealousy question. I meant Mafia fell, classic, fell.

Got it. I assume you mean by classic fell that is Underfell? Screenshot of the original question:

I’ll do someone flirting with S/O since that’s different than S/O just having a good friend.

Mafiafell!Sans (Hit): FLIRTING?? In front of him???? They’re dead. They are literally beaten beyond recognition with his bare fists.

Mafiafell!Papyrus (Boss): How rude! He won’t stand for it, and he’ll loudly and firmly confront the individual. If they back off & respect the relationship then he’ll let it go. But if not, he’ll have no choice but to live up to his reputation as a member of the mafia. Reputation is king.

Mafiafell!Wingding (Don): They disappear quietly into the night and he will gaslight deny they ever existed in the first place.

Mafiafell!Asriel (Heir): In front of you he’ll keep it cordial. If that’s enough to resolve the issue, great. If not, busting kneecaps with his favorite golf club should do the trick.

Underfell!Sans (Red): “ha ha ha, aren’t yeh a funny guy! howsabout i take yeh out for a sandwich? oh, what kind. . . ? my favorite. a knuckle sandwhich. think that’s funny? wait until yah see my next punchline. it’ll knock yeh flat on yer ass.”

Underfell!Papyrus (Edge): He’ll bluster and intimidate the other person. He doesn’t want to get violent and put you in an uncomfortable position, so hopefully the Scary Dog Face is enough. If it’s not. . . Oh, well. Looks like his brother has already picked a fight with the poor thing.

Underfell!Wingding (Fell): That’s so cute. He’s not worried in the least bit. He doesn’t care unless it bothers you, then he really has no choice but to step in and handle it. By handle he means you don’t see them again, and he gets a new lab rat.

Underfell!Asriel (Prince): Words are enough to shoo away any of your other suitors. He strives to maintain a level of politeness that is expected of him as the leader to his people. It might snap through if words aren’t enough, but he’s not about to brawl a civilian and put you both in an awkward spot legally. If they don’t go, he’ll follow the legal process of filing a restraining order and then the mages will brawl the person instead because how DARE someone upset the monsters by god do they not know how desperate humanity was.

Underfell!Grillby (Fellby): He trusts you to handle it, and if you need assistance a simple nod to the dog squad or Sans takes care of it.

PLAY IF - MAFIAFELL

PLAY IF - UNDERFELL

[romanticatheartt]

I'm this close to write a whole ass thesis in defense of Feyre MF Archeron...

[freakyfrogmoisturethief]

sometimes I like to play a game called “how many of my followers on this blog have slimecicle as their pfp”

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 PAVIA - Love Languages (giving)

Headcanons and analysis on Pavia's love languages and the way he likes to show affection.

yeah ok ive been playing reverse 1999 what about it <3

it might be a little too early to write anything for it, given the lack of in-depth content, the awful translation and all, but who cares lol

Pavia as a whole - his speech pattern, the way he presents himself, his appearance, line of work, relationships, etc - can easily be described as brash and straightforward. That direct sincerity and lack of restraint is part of what makes him dangerous. One can always count on Pavia to do and say whatever he wants, whenever he feels like it, regardless of time and situation.

When it comes to showing affection, no one thinks Pavia is capable (let alone willing) of forming lasting or meaningful friendships with anyone other than his pack of wolves. They all expect the same direct and selfish behaviour from Pavia in romantic endeavors, and he delivers wonderfully.

If someone manages to catch his eye, then he'll pursue them and make his intentions very clear - romance is optional and reserved for more "difficult" targets, but he's not the type to put in the effort. All of this inevitably leads to heartbreak and a long line of partners, each and every one fully convinced on being "the one" that would steer Pavia back onto the right track, into a more honest life.

Of course, this just applies to all those fleeting flings and whims, the superficial relationships everyone around him takes at face value to justify their hatred and disapproval of him.

Unless you're part of the pack, it's near impossible to know how Pavia acts around those he truly cares for because of his solitary lifestyle, to the point where those people might not even realize that Pavia cares about them and is actively trying to be nice. His love languages are unorthodox - as well as hidden under a few layers of nonchalance and casualness, I'd even argue that Pavia himself struggles to wrap his head around the concept of caring for someone other than himself - but with enough patience and attention to detail, they'll get easier to spot! Once you understand Pavia and his MO, it all just clicks into place.

Giving: Quality Time, Gifts

[Quality Time]

In this case, the term is used very loosely, as it doesn't exactly match the usual definition - there's no uninterrupted outings nor intimate one-on-one conversations, just an intense presence orbiting around as you go about your day.

This is what Pavia considers "quality time": inserting himself into the lives of those he cares about, entirely unannounced, to follow them until he's had enough or drag them around to do whatever he feels like doing if their routine is much too boring for his taste. The confidence he displays when disrupting people's lives paints him as a jerk with little to no care for their business - after all, how can it be quality time if you can't go buy groceries in peace because Pavia keeps trying to sneak weird shit into your cart and expecting you to pay? It's all pretty on brand for him, to use his presence as an obstacle and annoyance, the same way others have used it in the past as punishment.

But this is Pavia we're talking about. He prefers solitude, he doesn't care for company and he's turned loneliness into both a weapon and a shield.

It's always been very clear to him that no one wants to stick around, so for Pavia to offer his company in this manner is not unlike a stray dog testing the waters, seeing if it's safe enough to come out of hiding. He's gauging your reaction to his antics, his existence as a whole, under the pretense of bothering you because "he feels like it". It's kind of a privilege (and a miracle) to have Pavia seek you out without a bounty for your head! Consider yourself lucky.

But to address the two most common outcomes of this love language - if Pavia takes the lead and drags you around, it means you'll be involved in the most random fucking shenanigans.

Sometimes, he just lets you hang out with him, and you know you're dear to him if he allows the pack to play and relax around you. Sometimes, you're witness to his mercenary work and other shady jobs, willingly or not (he'll call you a coward if you don't want to bury a body with him). Sometimes, he takes you shopping only to dare you to get a five finger discount with him because he sure as hell isn't paying for all this shit. Sometimes, you see him argue for fun with people he doesn't even know. Sometimes, he shows you the hidden gems of his city and then leaves to see how you find your way back.

On one hand, it's a test - to see how you'll do should he choose to stick around for longer than what's acceptable for someone like him. On the other, he wants you to be part of his world, not only small glimpses of it - it's all or nothing. So it's only fair that he shows you the type of shit that you'll be getting into if you allow him to stay. Or rather, to welcome him when he comes and goes as he pleases.

On those scarce days when he prefers to follow you around, he's mostly driven by curiosity. Pavia rejects every conventional notion of leading a "normal" life, to be part of all those blubbering idiots and their made up rules, but he's still curious about how it all works. Do you really just wake up early to get prepared and then go to a job you don't even like? For like, a third of the day? Then you go home? And then you pass out for eight or more hours? Why the fuck would you even do that? Quit your job, what's the point. Live a life of reckless abandon.

He pokes fun at everything that he doesn't like, teases and bullies nonstop (one would have to be delusional to think Pavia's attitude softens around his loved ones, in fact, it gets worse), gets in the way and makes everything harder for you - but then you realize...

No one else has given you any sort of trouble, if else they've been nicer. There's been a sale everywhere you've gone to buy whatever you need, maybe you've been given a surprising discount. If you bump into someone, they apologize profusely. If you make any sort of mistake, it's forgiven immediately. There's always a seat for you no matter where you go, and the world seems to bend at your will for a split second.

You can thank him for that, by the way. Others would kill to have such scary dog privileges. And if things don't go the way he expects them to, that's fine too! He's ready to throw hands at the drop of a hat!

[Gifts]

This one is pretty easy and straightforward! Pavia likes to give things to his loved ones, as long as he doesn't have to pay much for them and as long as they don't ask anything from his personal collection or belongings (he's very territorial). Easy! Oh, and if you ask him directly for something, chances are he'll end up not getting you absolutely fucking nothing - but he'll praise you for trying anyway!

He's a hoarder, so he assumes that others also want lots of interesting and pretty trinkets to spruce up the house. His collection is more of a statement, and one could argue that him wanting to hoard is a direct consequence of the way he was brought up.

Somewhat unrelated, but I do like the specific headcanon about how Pavia is very easy to scam based on various lines in-game, like his glasses being a cheap copy of an actual italian brand and how most of his accessories are described as just garbage with no real value. Either that or he simply doesn't care enough about really owning any expensive brands, but likes to brag anyway.

No matter the reasoning behind it, giving gifts is an important part of Pavia's love languages.

However, he never aims to get you something that you've been eyeing for a while or something that could be useful - it's usually things that remind him of you, for better and for worse. Or really, anything he gets his hands on.

Pavia might show up one day with the ugliest little creature on a keychain, saying that it looks like you. And then, some other day he might show up with some matching earrings he made from scrap metal. If he's feeling particularly nice, he treats you to gelato, his favorite, or he'll have a bunch of fancy clothes or jewelry. Some of the gifts are questionable, and their origins even more so knowing the way Pavia operates and all, but it's up to you to ask him where he keeps getting all these things. It's pretty easy to tell, especially when the clothes are definitely not your size and the jewelry is all pure gold, with small blood stains. You'll have to forgive him, the guy is messy!

If you ever choose to throw away his gifts, Pavia won't hold it against you - it's your shit now, he couldn't care less what you do with it. Sometimes, you think he's simply using you as extra storage or as his personal trash bin.

You'll only see him visibly angry if you lose or throw away something that he specifically made for you. Those are the only gifts that really mean something to him, that should mean something to you! Pavia expects you to wear those little earrings, bracelets or whatever he ends up making - none of his wolves wear collars, so this is the closest thing you'll have to being officially accepted into the pack.

[b-o-e]

silly lil wally things :) Wally Darling x Reader

this is a list of my wally fics. these can be read as oneshots, although they are also written to be readable as a series, including specific nods towards prior fics and such. although it is not necessary, it is highly recommended to read them in the following order. enjoy!!

snorrrk mimimi - When you wake up in the morning, something is different…

paint me like one of your french girls - You weren’t the best painter, nor were you the best at picking up hints…

alone with you - You and Wally sneak away for a breath of fresh air, providing the perfect opportunity to try to get your feelings off your chest.

the plan - Wally, desperate to get you to pick up on his feelings for you, sits down to try and sort out a plan with his wingmen.

late night confessions - The phone ringing late at night allows opportunity to come knocking.

sleepy phone call - You find yourself unable to fall asleep, leading you to call Wally in the late hours of the night.

promise - Wally convinces you to sleep over for the night.

kiss farewell - After a night spent at Wally's, he walks you home.

town gossip - News spread quickly about you and Wally, but what actually are you?

first date - Wally asks you out in a date, but little does he know.

alone with you, take two - Jealousy isn’t a frequent feeling for Wally, but sometimes, things get on his nerves.

(done.)

these can also all be found on my ao3.

I have a ko-fi as well, if you would like to support me!!

thank you so much to everyone for your support on my works so far. i truly, deeply appreciate everything. it means the world to me, as do you <3 have a wonderful day!!

Posted Tuesday, May 9, 2023, at 10:16 PM

[restinslices]

Bi-Han’s chest heaves in a steady beat like a drum. His breathing is slow, brows relaxed, the corners of his mouth finally not pressed into a deep frown. He’s dreaming. His mind gives him the most perfect and beautiful dream he’s ever had. Everything he desires has happened. It’s a dream he’d never wish to wake from if he had the chance.

What do you think he’s dreaming of?

[orphiclovers]

its actually so heartbreaking the way yoo joonghyuk is constantly suprised when the new manager shows him basic human decency and respect and doesnt automatically assume the worst of him

he keeps commenting on how calm she looks even after he commits a social blunder, like he keeps expecting her to have a bad reaction😭

[lacunafiction]

Happy Birthday S. Dorran!

In honor of our compassionate Scholar’s birthday today, I collected some insights about them along with teasers from TFS: Book Two. 💙

_ _ _

Question/Prompt: How would S react to the MC being sick while in a relationship?

S handles this pretty well, modulating their worry about you being sick by performing actions that should hopefully make you feel better. They don't hover as much as the other ROs, but they're always within reach and become a consistent presence in the room. S will likely have a cup of tea ready for you before you can ask or will layer another blanket on you before you realize you're chilled. 🥰☕ Observing and anticipating your needs is how they try to show their care for you.

_ _ _

🌲 TFS: Book Two Teaser 🌲:

Silas 

The quiet is comfortable with an undercurrent of something more just beneath the surface. It can be hard to tell with Silas. When he peers up from nimbly sliding on another ring, there is nothing 'pensive' or 'reflective' to how he's regarding you—taking time to exist with you—in this moment. He isn't lost in thought, but in you.

Sofia 

The quiet is comfortable with an undercurrent of something more just beneath the surface. It can be hard to tell with Sofia. When she peers up from nimbly sliding on another ring, there is nothing 'pensive' or 'reflective' to how she's regarding you—taking time to exist with you—in this moment. She isn't lost in thought, but in you.

_ _ _

To continue reading this public post on TFS Patreon 🌲along with more Book Two teasers, please go: here. I hope you enjoy these moments with S. Dorran! Thank you for your support. 😍