#fic: Actions Speak Louder Than Words

[mercisnm]

'How like a winter hath my absence been from thee...'

A warm spring sunrise over English countryside landscape, featuring two lovely ladies out for an early morning stroll.

While @clydethistles Regency-period-Jane-Austen-inspired AU (Austen AU for short) Affections And Adorations did not feature any scene at sunrise, the moment I saw this photo of English countryside my mind was immediately overcome with the need to see Tissaia and Yennefer from Clyde's story over that backdrop. I can use buzzwords like mutual pining and it's about the yearning to describe the story but then it would be undermining for such a lovely work, and undoubtedly one of my favourite fics of all time. I am forever in awe at the research and thoughtfulness Clyde put into crafting it, be it either in form of the details about everyday life from the time period or of the language of the narration and conversation, be it either manifested as the graceful incorporation of Austen-esque storytelling elements and archetypes or as our author's very own endeavour to write a heart-wrenching queer love story realistic for and true to its historical period setting.

The point is: the fic was completed quite recently and you should read it, or catch up with it if you haven't, you definitely should, thank me later.

Bonus: the lines, before I throw colours all over it like an excitable raccoon on crack:

[aparticularbandit]

junko, in the middle of modifying a uniform for mukuro, keeping in mind that mukuro will hate the sailor top and also definitely needs shorts under her skirt, all during a magazine interview: i don't care about my fucking sister, why does everyone think i fucking care, obviously i don't fucking care

[mylesficfavs]

Perfect example of my previous reblog post 😏.

[not0a0mundane]

(tags by gen-is-in-her-pink-era)

THIS!!!

I love writing fics with Maul but let's be honest, dude is the equivelant of this gif

(Gif of John Mulaney with the text "I'll keep all my emotions right here and then one day, I'll die.")

not just ‘he would not fucking say that’ but ‘he would not, under torture, admit that’

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭.

🎀 Traveling from nation to nation and learning the art of creating the most delicious chocolate has been a passion of yours for ages. However, upon stepping foot into the Nation of Flame, you never could have prepared yourself for the incoming wave of sweetness and obsession which was going to hit you like never before.

A/N: This story is loosely inspired by Joanne Harris' book of the same title, Chocolat. It's a book that I am very fond of and I was inspired to write this once I saw that we were able to make chocolate in Natlan, probably the best thing in the game. I am a massive chocolate enjoyer, so... Also, the fic has some minor nsfw implications, just a bit of a heads up! Apologies if Kinich is not in character, oopsie.

yandere! kinich x fem! reader.

Proud warriors, the scorching hot sun and eternal flames were the first things that came to mind whenever you would think about Natlan. As a humble Mondstadter, it never occurred to you just how rich this nation was, how welcoming the people were going to be and not to mention how this place could help you develop your love for chocolate.

Stirring the pot in front of you was no easy task as the decadent scent of delightful goodness enveloped the entire humble little hut which you occupied, the entire floor littered with pots and pans filled to the brim with your creations and some personal trinkets which you had brought for yourself along for the journey.

One of Natlan's great tribes, the Scions of the Canopy, had graciously taken you under their wing and allowed you the privilege of experiencing the culture firsthand. You let out a wistful sigh as the chocolate bubbled happily before you, the dark liquid almost looking too good to be real.

You always took pride in your skills as a chocolatier, even if you hardly considered yourself the best one in the whole entire world. An endless sky of knowledge was out there waiting for you, the voices of the unknown beckoning you to come forward and seize them with your own two hands.

You were a true Mondstadter at heart. No matter where you were or how far you traversed, the wind was always there to guide you, to show you the right path. And right now, the flow of the wind said to stay in Natlan, to finally stop and smell the roses a little.

And each rose you touched had never been as sweet.

The rose, your rose, had a name and merely thinking of him sent your heart ablaze. Messy dark hair, gorgeous dew eyes and skin so perfectly rough and tender at the same time, it made you wonder how he managed to pull off something so contradictory.

That was Kinich's charm, you supposed. Cheeky little thing, he always looked out for you ever since he saw you. Despite his dry humor and straightforward attitude, there was a certain gentle quality to him which made him so irresistible, as if he was temptation personified. Never once did he leave you alone for the entirety of your trip if it could be helped, which came as a shock to his fellow tribe members.

Looking back on it, you were foolish to not see his intentions, even more so for not paying attention to the longing glimmer in his eye and how he would trail after you like a shadow.

He was shy, at first. Unsure on how he should express his feelings, Kinich merely resorted to doing things for you, because he was simply that kind of man. Actions speak louder than words and there was no word in the dictionary which could describe the way in which his chest would tighten in pain whenever he would make eye contact with you, as if large and thorny vines had sprouted from the ground up and taken root in his soul.

You are sweeter than any chocolate you could possibly make, he whispered into your ear one evening.

A shudder came over you, your cheeks hot at the memory of that night... The moon was high and full, overtaking the pitch black sky as Kinich had pinned you to the ground, his gaze boring deeply in your own, those large eyes focused on you and only you...

Chewing your bottom lip, you stirred the pot harshly as the memory replayed in your head over and over - his grip, which was tighter than any rope imaginable, the feeling of melted chocolate which was caked over your lips and fingers, the sensation of Kinich's tongue as he licked away the sweet goodness off your body...

By the seven, this was too much.

With a huff, you turned off the fire which was lit beneath the pot, your hands shaking with excitement as you felt your entire body growing hotter and hotter, making it harder to concentrate.

Damn that Kinich. Damn him for making you feel so wonderful, so wanted, so perfect. The thought of having to leave this place, it... It bordered on anguish. Sometimes, when you were sure no one was around, you would find a dark little corner and weep quietly to yourself. It was hard to manage the massive hiccups and keep the snot away from staining your clothes at first but you managed. Like always, you would find a way to get everything back in order and all would be well once you got everything out of your system.

You had fallen for Natlan. You had fallen even more so than Kinich. Even so, the wind was picking up once more, demanding that you make your next move.

There was so little time left to enjoy everything you had built here. Therefore, your plan was to make the most of everything you possibly could.

And Kinich was more than ready to assist with that.

He hid high up in a tree as he observed you, his face schooled into that of one of his classical nonchalance and stoicism. The chance of him being spotted by anyone up here was slim but even so, he liked to play it safe.

No one needed to know the pain he was in. No one needed to be aware of his more... dubious thoughts and actions. Kinich always fancied himself as a man of action rather than flowery words. And so, he acted.

Quietly, stealthily... Perhaps even a little lethally at times.

Violence was hardly ever the answer but if anyone got in his way and refused to back down, it was his only solution then.

Kinich had a solid reputation in his tribe - he was trustworthy, he was strong. This granted him access to many things, many useful and convenient things. All he had to do was say the word and most people would keep their mouths shut if they saw him somewhere he should not be. And if his poorly veiled threats were not enough, he was more than ready to take up his weapon and fight.

It really was that easy for him.

Sneaking into your newly built home was its own beast though.

This is wrong, he would chant inside his mind over and over again. The intensity of his actions and his nonchalant persona were always at a clash with one another, constantly fighting a never ending war. He should trust you, he knows you are capable, he has no right to be doing any of this even yet... And yet, he does it anyway.

Because he knows that if he doesn't do something, he will never see you again. Kinich knows that he will lose you to the wind if he lets you slip through his fingers, he will never get to experience what it means to be touched, to be loved.

He wants to adore you in the same way people adore your delectable creations. The various statues made from chocolates, the little cacao bites, the endless sea of pralines which would be devoured so fast by the masses that he could not keep up...

Whenever he had the luxury, he liked to imagine you as one of those pralines. Perfect and oh so easy to devour, you were nothing short of excellent in his eyes. Kinich was no blind fool, he was well aware that you had your flaws as well but he cared very little about that.

He wanted the entire package. He wanted you, wrapped up in a little bow and delivered on his doorstep like the world's most precious package, a package which he could unwrap and enjoy time and time over.

Even in his hazy state of mind, he could still recall how you tasted. Licking his lips, Kinich made sure to double check that he had taken a few things from your hut which could prevent you from finishing your latest project. Yes, that was petty of him.

But he could not be bothered to care.

The wind was cruel. Whenever a gust of it would blow at him, Kinich would scowl as he knew that it meant that you would take it as a sign to leave. His hair would get tousled as he would wrap his arms around his body, the constant yapping of Ajaw did him no good either.

The clock was ticking. There was only so much he could do to keep you here. A plan needed to be formed, fast.

For now, he was going to enjoy you in every way he could. He was going to be greedy and devour you wholly whenever the opportunity arose. As Kinich balanced himself up on the massive tree branch, yet another fresh gust of wind made its way towards him. He saw the way you popped your shoulders, that all too familiar smile on your face.

You loved the wind and the wind loved you. You loved to make chocolate and were quite excellent at it too.

Despite all that, Kinich loved you more. He adored you more than the sun adored the world, he wanted you more than unlike anything else before. He cursed the Anemo Archon underneath his breath, his poor lip bloody and bruised from the amount of times he had bitten it in order to keep himself quiet.

Kinch was a man of countless deeds. And he would find a way to keep you by his side, no matter the cost. Be it Celestia or the Abyss, there was no force in this world which could destroy the endless and raging fire he felt for you.

[tojipie]

welcome home <3

he’s unboxed ! who cheered. by far one of my most requested fics of all time. started this series 6 months ago and it remains one of my favs :,) this is by no means the end though ! i haven’t been writing any of the additions to this series in “order” and i am still 100% open to writing about his life inside/after prison lol. thank u to all the lovely ppl that have been showing love to these since april mwah mwah mwah mwah

as always, prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: (incarceration, fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, p in v smut, pining, road head, swallowing, creampie, dirty talk, multiple rounds)

“just step through here and—yep,” the guard waves his security want across your outstretched arms, clearing you to take your belongings from the conveyor belt.

you’d done this dance a hundred times over the past seven years, driving up to the district penitentiary twice a week to see your boyfriend—now fiancé.

toji told you he didn’t have it in him to wait, popping the question during a conjugal visit a month ago. 

the man had known he’d wanted to marry you even before he got locked up. the feeling was mutual, but unspoken, always hanging in the air between the two of you.

you on the other hand had known you wanted to marry toji the moment he whispered his first “i love you,” said to you through the crackly speaker of a burner phone on a night when neither of you knew if he’d be coming home or not.

you make a beeline for the release wing, breaking into a subtle jog without drawing too much attention to yourself. the bouquet of green flowers you’d bought at the grocery store jostles in your purse, leaving a breadcrumb trail of stray petals.

there, around a bend and down the corridor stands the man of your dreams, flanked by officers and personnel at the front desk. 

metal cuffs clack together as the man reaches to accept a clipboard from the release agent, skillfully uncapping the pen with his teeth to fill out the means for his freedom.

he looks up a split second before you speak, dropping the clipboard with an audible clatter. toji tears down the corridor with a look that speaks of relief beyond words.

“toji!” you yell, sprinting to the inmate with outstretched arms. you nearly trip over your own feet with how quick you barrel towards him.

warm bodies clash together at last, squeezing, cradling, and caressing every inch of each other at last. his law enforcement entourage watches from afar, some smiling, others annoyed.

you’re lifted clean off the ground as strong, tattooed arms slip over your head and around your body. thick fingers work their way into your hair, cradling your head to his shoulder. 

actions speak louder than words, you know that much from how quickly he buckles, dropping to his knees with your body still wrapped around his. 

toji smells different every time you come to visit. there were days when the tang of blood stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed, a telling sign of his short temper. 

other days he’d smell like the earth, soil from the rec field permeating his already brown garments after his morning run.

once in a while, you’d catch hints of industrial paint and car exhaust, a smell built up from hours of making license plates for pocket change from the state. “pennies,” he’d tell you, “that’s all we fucking get in here.”

today, toji smells like himself. like the man you fell in love with 7 years ago in the passenger seat of a BMW, gazing into green eyes while gentle hands brushed the hair from your face. 

you almost think he’s laughing until warm tears trickle through the porous fabric of your shirt. 

strong shoulders quiver as quiet sobs rack his body, you rub his back in small circles, unable to pull away with how tight he’s holding you against his chest.

“i love you,” the inmate whimpers, wiping hot tears with his sleeve. he pulls back to press your lips together, mumbling nonsense in between kisses.

“pretty girl—m’ sorry— missed you,” his hands shake as they curl into the fabric at your waist.

you’d seen him cry exactly twice in his life. the first being the night he’d opened up to you in full for the first time, quietly relaying stories of neglect and abuse from his childhood while you kissed tears from his cheeks.

the second was well, the day he went away.

to see him break down like this so openly was devastating. he hated being emotional, told you it was humiliating. you’re sure he felt more than vulnerable, the leader of the city’s biggest drug ring, crumpled on the floor of a prison hallway 

“it’s okay baby,” you tell him, still rubbing circles into his skin.

to touch him like this, at last, was unlike anything the two of you had been allowed to experience for the past 7 years. this wasn’t your two legally allowed hugs at the beginning and end of your visits, or a quick fuck in a storage closet.

this was love. to hold and be held in front of law enforcement personnel without threat of being reprimanded. this was the first time you had been allowed to feel him under the tips of your fingers with an audience, publicly declaring your claim on each other without fear. 

you never blamed toji for what had happened, as angry as you were that first year. he blamed himself enough for the both of you really. 

you’d come to learn over the years that it had already been too late for him to get out of his line of work way before you’d found each other, a cycle he couldn’t break.

prison was always a possibility, inevitable even. that’s just how it was.

you slowly gather your purse off the ground, cellophane-wrapped flowers coming into view. 

“for me?” he laughs, slightly embarrassed. dark green carnations, just like his eyes. 

“who else?” you tease, watching the distress melt from his face.

you share a look briefly, yours saying you’re safe with me. his saying i know.

the soft clicks of black work boots pull you from your thoughts, a female officer in tow.

“you guys ready to get started?” she asks softly, shooting you a sympathetic look.

toji stands with a chuckle, not letting you respond. silver cuffs dig into the meat of your thighs as you’re carried back to the group.

 ˚ ✧ ───────────

half an hour of paperwork for his freedom. that’s what you give the prison in exchange for his belongings and dignity. 

the waiting room is quiet, sterile air filtering through dated vents. calloused fingers rub over your ankle, legs propped up in his lap.

“feels like a hospital in here,” he mumbles, trying to cut through the silence.

the cuffs are gone, thank god. though you’re more than unhappy with the marks they left on his wrists. toji doesn’t seem to mind, used to almost a decade of this treatment.

the release desk worker slides you two a yellow bag under the glass divider once you finish your task, pointing you in the direction of the bathrooms in case toji wanted to change. 

the inmate—no, ex-inmate you remind yourself— hands you the bag with a disinterested look. 

he doesn’t want to remember, you realize. too scared to wear the suit he had on the day the world took you from him. you quickly trash the old clothes and hold out your shoulder bag to him, fresh clothes neatly folded inside. 

“always prepared huh?” toji smiles, grateful at the gesture. “haven’t changed a bit.”

you wait a couple of minutes outside the single-stall bathroom, physically picking your jaw up off the floor when he emerges.

to say that his old shirt fit would be... egregiously wrong. blasphemous even.

toji’s shirt doesn’t just “not fit”, it’s bursting at the seams as it struggles to accommodate his hulking form, stretching over plains of corded muscle like a rubber band pulled too tight. 

seeing him so often had likely gotten your brain used to the change, preventing you from realizing how fucking big your fiancé had gotten. truly.

the black garment is so tight against his body that it’s practically a second skin. you make note of the way it molds into the dips and curves of his abs, mentally reminding yourself to get him to wear it for you later. 

you suppose the change makes sense. if toji wasn’t with you on a day visit he was always in his cell, sticking to a strict workout regimen to take his mind off things. still, you rack your brain trying to pinpoint how and when such a massive transformation slipped your mind.

a tattooed hand snaps you out of your trance, cradling your cheek.

“you focused?” your fiancé teases, rubbing circles into your jaw with his thumb.

“i think that thing’s gonna explode if you move,” you swat his hand away. 

“would you rather i take it off to be safe?” he asks, jutting a thumb behind him at the waiting room desk.

the workers make no attempt to hide their oggling, faces pressed against the glass barrier separating your party from theirs.

“no— god keep it on,” you mutter, shooting them a nasty look.

“you and your girlfriend ready to go fushiguro?” an officer says, holding the door open for the both of you. toji squats down momentarily to get a grip on your thighs, folding you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.

“wife,” he corrects, shouldering past the guard and trudging down the corridor with calculated steps.

the coos that ring out from the help desk are humiliating.

waxed tile fades into worn concrete as the two of you pass the threshold into the prison parking lot, your soon-to-be-husband muttering a curt “go fuck yourselves” to the officers who’d wished him good luck on his way out the door.

you’re proud of him for holding his tongue, in a way. knowing toji and his temper there were a hundred more creative and undoubtedly gruesome things he could have said to the personnel who’d kept him locked up for the better half of a decade. 

the world flips right side up again as you’re gently placed on your feet in front of the car. 

toji raises his head to the sky, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“s’ nice,” he mumbles, reaching to intertwine your hands. “felt the sun during rev time but.. not like this.”

you hum, rubbing your thumb over tattooed knuckles. 

“get ready to experience a lot more sun then,” you giggle. “wanna have a look at the car?” the question is more of a rhetorical one at this point considering he’s already running his hand over the hood with a whistle.

“haven’t seen this baby in a while,” he smiles, internally gushing at your choice to welcome him to the world in the car he used to drive you home the night you met. your fiancé doesn’t have to say thank you, you know how grateful he is from his smile alone.

he falters for a bit, looking like a newborn fawn with how careful his steps are as he circles the vehicle. you figure wearing proper shoes instead of rubber slides must feel at least a little abnormal after 7 long years. 

“alright,” toji states, rolling his shoulders in his too-tight top. “fuck are we waiting for, i wanna go home.”

 ˚ ✧ ───────────

you pay no mind to toji the first time he turns to look at you, opening his mouth to say something before slumping back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.

the fourth time it happens, you speak up.

“what are you doing?” you laugh, eyeing him from the driver's seat

“getting rubbed to death by my fucking zipper,” he mutters, repositioning his lower half to take the pressure off his cock. his frustration isn’t aimed at you in the slightest, all blame placed on his bottoms.

oh.. oh.

the whirlwind of emotions toji had gone through in the past 3 hours alone had taken a toll on his mind and body. but tasting the first morsels of freedom with you, alone in a car that smelled like you? you’d be worried if he wasn’t hard.

you had no problem helping his little problem go away, the question was how soon.

the idea that piques on you is absolutely shameful, you’re not even sure where it came from but you don’t have it in you to care. 

you know this road, you’ve used it a thousand times to make the trip up to the penitentiary. judging by how long you’d been driving you’d say there was about 10 minutes left before ruler-straight tar merged into the twists and turns of the suburbs.

“when did your license expire?” you ask, cautiously peering in the rearview mirror. good, no cars.

“3 years ago,” he laughs, “why?”

fuck it, you think.

“you still remember how to steer?” 

“course i d— oh.”

it finally dawns on him. you smile, shooting him a look that says “want to?”

you’re sure you have your answer judging by how quick he shucks his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines.

“oh fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open as your mouth presses against his base. 

your fiancé steers while your head bobs just beneath the dash, one hand on the wheel and the other placed firmly at the crown of your head, guiding you up and down the shaft.

your throat flexes around the intrusion, fighting the hulking feeling of his length mercilessly fucking into your mouth.

“fuck, perfect girl— my girl,” he shudders, hips moving to buck into your slick throat.

“gonna cum, gonna— shit,”

fingers kissed in dark ink massage your throat softly, urging you to swallow the hot load coating every inch of your mouth. you flutter around his length, pulling back to clean him off with your tongue.

“fucks gotten into you, pretty girl?” he whispers, so out of breath you barely hear him. 

 ˚ ✧ ───────────

you barely make it up the steps of the house before you’re shoved against the door, tattooed hands groping up and down your body with fervor.

“keys,” he says against your lips, “keys—fuck, now,” his voice is hoarser this time, desperation clear.

you whip around to jam the item into the lock, not unaware of the rock-hard dick grinding into your jean-clad ass from behind.

you’re being carried to the couch before you even step off the doormat, a stray throw blanket cushioning your fall as you’re pressed into squeaky leather. 

“won’t be gentle,” toji groans, ripping your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.” can’t right now.”

“don’t be.” you say, rucking his shirt off his body surprisingly quick. “wouldn’t want you to.”

you needed him, needed toji to have his way with you. to christen your home round after round until you couldn’t feel where his body and yours ended.

when it came down to it, you suppose 

he smiles at the crude admission, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds.

“filthy,” he mutters, said almost lovingly. toji grips his base and sinks to the hilt with a sharp groan, shuddering at the heat of your walls.

the stretch is delicious, filling you from every angle and pressing right against that special spot. you’re surprised at how easily he slams in, though you’re embarrassed to admit it was entirely because of how soaked you were. 

toji immediately pulls back with a flick of his hips, pistoning into you like his life depends on it. 

he hasn’t changed, you think. still so incredibly in tune with your body, skills that would put a pornstar to shame.

this was better than some quick closeted fuck under the cover of night after slipping a guard a rubber band of cash. this was primal, filthy. two bodies writhing against each other, the only goal being complete and utter pleasure. 

toji makes no effort to shush you like he would if you were sneaking around, basking in your sighs and whines like water from a stream.

“missed this,” he says, licking a long, wet stripe from your sternum to your pulse. “missed you, missed having you every day.”

“you’ll have me forever,” you moan, sucking a purple bruise into the tattooed skin of his throat.

thick fingers thread into your hair to hold you to his neck, silently commanding you to bite down.

and so you do. you bite down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, licking over pink teeth marks as his thrusts reach their maximum speed.

the pleasure you feel is blinding. stars explode behind your vision while the curve of his cock hits that heavenly spot in you just right. over, and over, and over.

your climax sneaks up on you before you can think, ripping a wail from the depths of your chest. toji’s thrusts falter to a halt as you lock down on him, pleasantly caught off guard by the vice grip you have around him.

“oh my g— holy shit,” he groans, mouth hanging open. dark brows furrow it to a look of pure pleasure, emerald eyes squeezing tight.

“keep going,” you mumble, scratching rivets down the skin of his back. “just keep fucking me please don’t stop please pl—”

“yeah? keep going?” he teases, groping at the swell of your breast. “greedy huh?”

you did want more, that was the thing. you just came the hardest you ever had in years but you’d be damned if he didn’t keep giving it to you.

brutal thrusts shake the frame of the couch. your bodies meld like they were made for each other, sharing pleasure in the comfort that came with the knowledge that the both of you intended to fuck until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“gonna come,” your fiancé pants, mouthing at the curve of one of your breasts. blunt teeth brush over the bud of your nipple, sending shockwaves down your spine

“inside, fuck—please,” you’re practically shaking.

“inside?” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like gold. “you want my seed? huh?” 

you nod, clutching to his naked back as he ruts into you, deeper than ever. strong hands grip the back of your thighs practically folding you in half, opening you up in ways you thought to be impossible.

hot release fills you up for the second time that day, shrouding your lower half in a blanket of warmth.

you sigh, low and satiated at the feeling inside of you, pulling toji to your chest when he collapses on top of you.

“we should probably..” toji trails off, completely out of breath. “should probably head upstairs.” he heaves, chest swelling with deep gulps of air.

“or we could go another round?” you mumble, throwing the question out there. 

“shit, yeah.. probably should right?” he chuckles

taglist ! 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[sunshine7queen]

@yuujispinkhair @windlullaby @fan-fiction-library @preciousamethyst @thefallofruins

@samaraxmorgan

Could you write what sukuna would do after him and reader get into an argument and hurts readers feeling?

(I love your writing! Please never stop 🙂‍↕️)

𐔌 . ⋮ After the argument, the tension in the room was suffocating. Sukuna’s voice had been harsh, his words cutting like blades. He was always brash and abrasive, but this time, something he said had struck you harder than usual. You tried to hold it together, but the sting of his words lingered, and you couldn’t stop the hurt from welling up in your chest.

You turned away from him, your heart heavy, and without a word, you walked off, leaving Sukuna standing there, fists clenched and jaw tight.

For a moment, he did nothing. Sukuna wasn’t used to caring about how his words affected people—he was the King of Curses, after all. People cowered before him, they didn’t dare confront him. But you… you were different. And the sight of your back as you walked away didn’t sit well with him.

He grumbled to himself, the echo of his harsh words replaying in his mind.

“Tch.” He hated this feeling—this gnawing discomfort in his chest that came when he realized he had hurt you more than he intended. Sukuna wasn’t good with apologies; it wasn’t in his nature to be soft or to take back what he said. But seeing the pain in your eyes, the way you withdrew from him, left him unsettled in a way he couldn’t ignore.

Hours passed, and you stayed away, hiding in another room. The house was too quiet, and it grated on his nerves. Usually, your presence filled the silence, but now that absence was like a constant reminder of what he had done.

Finally, Sukuna had enough. With a deep sigh, he stood and made his way toward where you were. He wasn’t good with this kind of thing, but he also wasn’t about to let the rift between you widen.

He found you sitting on the edge of the bed, your knees pulled up, trying to collect yourself. The moment he entered, you tensed, not looking at him.

Sukuna stopped in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he regarded you. He didn’t say anything right away, his pride still too strong to let him offer any real apology. Instead, he stood there for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest, as if trying to figure out how to handle this situation without fully acknowledging his fault.

Then, with a quiet growl, he spoke, his voice low but not as harsh as before. “You’re still sulking, huh?” His tone lacked its usual venom, and while the words weren’t exactly an apology, there was a shift in the way he said them.

You didn’t respond, your eyes still fixed on the floor.

Sukuna huffed in frustration, moving closer. His four arms flexed slightly, one of his lower hands twitching as if resisting the urge to reach out to you. He stood next to you, his shadow falling over your form.

“Look,” he muttered, his voice gruff, “I’m not good at this… but you know I didn’t mean it.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes betraying the hurt you still felt. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—vulnerable, distant. It made something inside him twist uncomfortably.

Sukuna let out a low breath, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he reached out, his larger hand resting on your shoulder. It was a rare, uncharacteristic gesture—gentle, almost tentative.

“I don’t like this,” he admitted, his gaze flickering to the side, avoiding your eyes. “You being upset with me.”

You blinked, surprised by the admission. It wasn’t exactly an apology, but coming from Sukuna, it was close enough. His pride wouldn’t let him say he was wrong outright, but his actions spoke louder than his words. The way his hand lingered on your shoulder, the subtle tension in his posture—it all told you he was trying, in his own way.

Slowly, you felt the tension in your body ease a little, and you sighed, leaning into his touch just slightly. “You really hurt me, Sukuna,” you murmured softly, your voice still fragile.

He was silent for a beat, his thumb unconsciously rubbing your shoulder in a rare moment of tenderness.

“I know,” he said quietly, his gaze still fixed on the floor. “I’ll watch it next time.”

That was as close to an apology as you were going to get from him, and strangely, it was enough. You could feel the sincerity behind his gruff exterior, the way he was trying to make amends in the only way he knew how.

After another moment of quiet, Sukuna finally lowered himself beside you on the bed. One of his hands rested on your back while another gently lifted your chin to meet his eyes. His gaze was intense, but there was something softer there—something only reserved for you.

“Come here,” he grumbled, pulling you into his chest with one of his lower arms, cradling you against him. “You know I’m not good at this,” he muttered, his voice low. “But you’re not leaving.”

You sighed, melting into his embrace despite everything. His warmth surrounded you, and though his apology wasn’t traditional, his actions told you all you needed to know. He held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you, as if silently vowing not to let this happen again.

Sukuna wasn’t gentle by nature, but for you—for the one person who managed to get under his skin—he’d try. Even if it meant swallowing his pride, just a little .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

[turnfires-secret]

Limit? | KINICH X MALE READER SMUT

Bottom Kinich, Overstimulation, Choking, Hairpulling

‘ Malipo ’ Kinich was known for being well put together. It only makes it all the sweeter when he falls apart at the seams. Kinich liked pushing the limits of his own capabilities, taking risks, being a daredevil at heart. This extends to his preferences. Choking and overstimulation were two of his greatest pleasures!

“Mh-! Hmph- m-more- Please- ahh- don’t s-stop!”

He’s adorable, fingers gripping the sheets under him for any sort of stability, gasping at practically any movement, a small amount of drool from his mouth. Yet still, somehow manages to keep quiet for the most part, the only sounds he makes are him struggling to speak, to tell you that he wants, no, needs more of you. However, why not be a little mean? Make him beg for it. 

“Oh? More? Really? You want more, hm, Kinich? Then go ahead and beg for it”

Your fingers trace up his chest slowly as you speak before circling his adam’s apple and then grasping his neck, not too tight but enough to make it hard to breath, to make him feel a small pressure in his head. It only serves to add more murky pleasured haze to his fucked out mind. The turnfire hunter doesn’t even stop to weight the cost of his actions, too deep in pleasure to back down in the pursuit for more. 

“Nhmm-! nh-- p-please Please- i- i need more- nmh- please- ngh-! F-fuck- I- i’ll d-do whatever-! ”

The little gasps he let out from the lack of oxygen between words only made his begging more convincing, more addicting. More was what he begged for, so you’ll give him more. Harder, faster, rougher, till you turn the mighty Turnfire hunter into nothing more than a overstimulated cumdump. Continue to abuse his prostate for hours. With that ever lucidity he has left, you make him stare down at where your bodies connect. A small buldge at his abdomen, you force one of his hands to feel it, letting the dendro user bask in how defiled his body looked, his torso covered in sweat and his own cum. 

His eyes had lost their piercing knowing sheen long ago, replaced by a glazed over look, yet the green mixed with gold still mesmerizing to stare into. Normally, you’d never tell someone so put together could have such a masochistic side. You grasp dark green locks and pull and he only moans harder. You cum inside him for the third time, You press down slightly on his abdomen only to feel yourself pounding him from the inside. Perhaps Kinich wasn’t just Mora hungry, perhaps he also thirsts to quiet the thoughts in his head with pleasure. He can’t help but get louder, he can’t help but moan, it’s too good. 

In and out, In and out at a brutal pace, all of it, the sensitivity from 4 orgasms, the warmth of it all has him shaking, whimpering, moaning, body covered in fluids and yet… It’s all so euphoric. 

Maybe this was the limit he was looking to find.

(btw feel free to send fic requests!)

[cloudcountry]

ok so obviously leona fic, did we ever expect anything else, recently ive been thinking a lot about childhood friends aus with leona so how about that as a trope. THANKS POOKIE THIS EVENT KICK STARTED A MASSIVE LEONA RAMBLING FOR ME SO EVEN IF I DIDNT WIN THIS WOULDA BEEN AWESOME <33

2ND PRIZE WINNER, LOSER

— CHILDHOOD FRIENDS WITH LEONA KINGSCHOLAR (1117 words)

please note that the expressions of love in his this fic are platonic, but can be read as romantic pining if you wish!

Leona’s ears twitch as your footsteps echo down the halls, coming right up to his door before stopping. His tail starts swishing, almost absentmindedly, but the happiness he feels about you visiting is not absentminded in the slightest.

“Leona!” you whisper yell, cracking the door open as sneakily as your clumsy hands can, “Psst, Leona!”

He smirks, blatantly ignoring you. He hopes the swishing of his tail seems lazy, not happy. Overjoyed, even. Leona knows you won’t mind when you find him out—you’ve always been just weird enough to find him fun to be around and his attitude charming. He wishes more of the palace staff were like you.

“I know you can hear me, goofball!” you whisper louder, sliding into his room through the open door, shutting it softly behind you.

“Huh?” Leona drawls, turning around in his chair, “I thought that was a fly. You sure do a lot of buzzing for a herbivore.”

You purse your lips and pout at him, looking more amused than livid. Your acting always sucked, but he doesn’t tell you that in fear of you swatting at him and whacking his tail again.

It’s sensitive.

“The kitchen is empty. We could totally go in there and grab snacks.” you say, and the pout melts off your face like butter on a saucepan, “You’ve been studying all day, you haven’t had any time for me!”

Leona huffs, tail gently smacking against your cheek. You yowl dramatically and rub your cheek like he punched you, glaring at him with the smallest of smiles on your lips. You’ve always been that blunt with him, saying exactly what's on your mind even though you get scolded for it again and again. You’re the only one in this wretched place who doesn’t bow to him every time you see him, or hold your tongue every time you have an idea. You speak freely, happily, and Leona is thankful to have been with you since the two of you were in diapers.

Even if the gap between you would never be bridged.

After all, a person of your position should not talk that way to royalty, even though he’ll never be anything but a prince.

You drag him out of his thoughts and consequently, out of his room, glancing around the halls to check and see if anyone is there. Leona rolls his eyes but the action holds no malice, not when you grab his hand and yank him down the hallway, giggling quietly as if you’re about to steal cookies from the cookie jar.

Which, considering your destination, may just be your scheme.

Leona doesn’t get soft often, he doesn't get that heart-thumping loving feeling, but when he looks at you, that changes. He loves you, he knows that much. You’re his only friend in this suffocating palace, where he shoulders the burden of being the second born with every step he takes. But with you, his best friend, his only friend, he starts to feel like he’s plain old Leona.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It’s so easy to sneak around with you, even if you are a bit clumsier than he is. And sure, maybe it’s because he purposefully trips you on his tail (only for you to whisper that you thought his tail was too sensitive for that with mock anger in your tone) but that’s nothing you can prove.

Over the course of your childhood, there are plenty more of those moments. You and Leona both grow, even though sometimes you wish you could stay kids forever. It isn’t easy watching him mold to fit his role, watching the usual easygoing smirk he has on his face morph into a constant snarl and frown.

You think you’re the only one in the palace who sees him as Leona anymore.

It isn’t long before he receives an offer to go to a school called Night Raven, which he considers with careful attentiveness. You hesitantly watch from afar, not wanting him to leave you behind but also knowing deep down he’d be so much happier if he did.

Soon enough (too soon), you’re helping him pack his suitcases.

You hug him goodbye, face buried in his clothes, squeezing him tight. He promises to call you every night in a voice only you can hear, gruff and reassuring.

Of course, he has to add a jab about you looking like a puppy without its owner so he doesn’t seem too soft. You just blink back tears and agree with a choked up laugh. His expression goes soft once more, and you take it in like you’ll never see him again.

Once he boards, you watch his carriage until it disappears and there’s no one left watching beside you.

Leona keeps his promise and calls every night, telling you about the upperclassmen and how he got sorted into Savanaclaw, to no one’s surprise. You speculate which dorm you’d be put in if you were to go to Leona’s school, and he tells you “soft hearted herbivores like you would end up in Octavinelle or something like that.”

He sounds like he’s having fun. You’re glad.

There’s a small part of you that toys with the idea of going to NRC yourself—training  your magic to the point of being one of those exceptional mages the Head Mage seeks out. It’s not like you’ll never see Leona, he’s taken the necessary measures to ensure that you can visit campus whenever you please (oh, how he spoils you so) but it’s different. Things aren’t the same anymore and you know they never will be.

(That doesn’t stop you from training in secret. Leona always put everything he had into himself, so why wouldn’t you do the same?)

You don’t bat an eye when the carriage arrives again, standing stationary outside the palace. If anything, you figure it’s Leona coming back for some sort of official business, or at least that’s what you thought before the palace staff starts to whisper your name.

Your luggage, much like Leona’s exactly one year ago, is crammed into the entryway of the palace before you know it.

You’re in a daze the whole trip, painfully aware that you’re sixteen now, going to Night Raven College, you’re growing up more and more and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

But there’s also excitement, laced with a fair share of anxiety.

You’re going to see Leona again.

And this time, you two will be equals.

It’s the most difficult thing, composing yourself before you’re sorted by the mirror. It’s even more difficult keeping your head straight and not whirling around the room, looking for a pair of green eyes and a lazy, flicking tail. It’s even more difficult not to acknowledge the thrill that jolts through you when your name is called, knowing that Leona heard it, wherever he is in the room.

“Soft hearted herbivores like you would end up in Octavinelle.”

You hope, wherever you end up, you can be close to him like always.

-> leona's napping buddies . . . @vivigoesinsane @dove-da-birb

[dadsbongos]

ANOTHER ONE

fucking stupid part 2 i did for my yuuji fic for ao3 :) and decided to post here lol

2.1 K words

warnings - 18+ mdni !!, pwp, penis IN vagina, thigh fucking, tummy bulge (+pressin on it), minor headlock action, yuuji is hesitant but not NOT into it, a lot of drool, mentions of sukuna's cannibal past (not sexified)

Yuuji excels at the single most important tenet of being a boyfriend.

Compromise.

A giver at heart and selfless and so, so loving, he practically bends to your every whim - something Nobara and Megumi love teasing him over. Yes, he would crab walk over glass if you so much as asked, but he will not bend to this.

“I don’t trust you,” Yuuji is stubborn on this, and this alone.

“I’m the reason you’re with her!” the red eye stabs him through your bathroom mirror, “You forget that, vermin!”

“You’re literally in my body,” he sighs, “And keep your voice down, I don’t want her hearing us argue,” at the unimpressed stare Sukuna levels him with, Yuuji only sighs louder, “I don’t know why you even think she’ll want you.”

“I know her body more than you could ever hope to, worm,” if Sukuna notices the way Yuuji huffs, he certainly doesn’t let it be known, “Studied it to perfection years ago, and spent my time in solitude remembering every detail. Every stretch mark and curve and swell of fat - I know her body better than you. I know it.”

Well, he was stubborn on this.

“Be nice,” Yuuji grips the smooth counter of your sink, he could never hold out against you and your batting lashes and sweet voice, “I’m taking over the second she seems upset.”

Another low-lidded, testing glare from Sukuna, and Yuuji shakes his head before throwing the bathroom door open.

“Well?” your fingers lace together in your lap, bottom lip tight between your teeth.

Centuries ago, in different bodies, the two of you were in this same position - with a different question on your lips.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Sukuna had settled in beside you, the tatami mat squishing beneath his heavy weight and he still towered over you, “Speak up.”

“Well,” you leaned back, head falling against your pillow and fluttering your lashes up at Sukuna, “Would you eat me?”

Rolling over, Sukuna planted a knee between your legs with two arms holding himself from crushing you, the remaining two curled around your waist, “How do you mean, hm?”

Reaching a hand up, your soft palm cradled the unhardened side of his face, giggling when his tongue lolled against the tip of your thumb, “You know how I mean.”

He did. It’s something you’d mentioned since falling into poor health - a stiff question that leaves his heart cold and skin raised. When he should’ve been used to this. He was. He’d eaten many people before you and, even then, he was certain he'd eat many people after you. You’d fed him. You’d helped Uraume cook his meals. You were used to this.

Sensing his hesitation, you slid your hand from his cheek to ghost your fingertips over his lips. Kissing the pads of your fingers, Sukuna’s lids were low as he stared down at you - and he knew the answer you didn’t want to hear.

“It’d be an honor,” you cooed, because of course you already knew which way he was leaning, “To be with you like that. Forever.”

“Greedy,” he teased, slipping from his knees to sit back. He scooped you up with his hold around your waist to settle you atop his lap, his other two hands cupped your cheeks. Your own hand moved down to the base of his throat, fingers tracing the bridge of his collarbones, “Eating you would be a disservice to this beautiful body.”

The word is nourishing, spring water on a dry tongue. You used to fear a long, drawn-out death (not death, not around Sukuna), you’ve seen these same sunken eyes and shaking hands in others. And you did not find them awe-inspiring. But Sukuna has given you no question if his eyes still fell upon you kindly.

You frowned and he scoffed, “You won’t even think about it?”

But Yuuji has no idea about any of that.

Yuuji sits beside you and takes your hands tightly between his, “I can always come back.”

“I know!” you lean in and kiss his cheek sweetly, “I’m just curious.”

Because there has to be something Sukuna can offer if he insists on maintaining this obsession with you (in front of your boyfriend, no less).

…

“Are you nervous, bunny?”

Your heart beats in your throat. Your palms soak into the sheets when you grip them. Your bottom lip is on the brink of bleeding between your teeth. But no, no you are not nervous.

No matter how much you probably should be. And no matter how much it should’ve taken, Sukuna doesn’t take long to put you on your back - lips locked to yours. He cackles cruelly when you huff after he pulls away.

Sukuna binds your knees together, plush thighs trapped against one another. Releasing one knee just to feed his cock through the wetted spot between your thighs, he quickly flushes his chest against the back of your thighs. Both arms winding around your legs to keep them shut around him.

“So wet from just a little kissing,” he stares down at where the head of his cock peeks out, kissing your clit on the way. He fucks your thighs slowly, taking earnest joy in how you whine.

Your teeth sink into the back of your hand at the sensation of Sukuna parting your lips and bumping your clit with his dick. He groans, deep in the back of his throat, when he can feel that gush of slick from your cunt.

“I knew this brat couldn’t care for my bunny as I can,” he slips from between your thighs entirely to press his tip inside you. Your chest rises in a quick gasp, jerking at the intrusion, “You missed me,” he states simply, settling his weight on his elbows beside your head as he teases slow thrusts, “Cunt’s sucking me back in,” he snickers at your squeaking as his hips speed up, “You missed me so much.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. But you can’t call him on it when he’s clawing at your sides and thighs to flip you onto your stomach, perking your hips snugly against his.

“I’ve seen him,” his hand presses against your lower belly, thrusting down and deep and hitting that spot Yuuji magically detects and obsesses over - that spot that makes drool humiliate the corners of your lips, “That brat abusing your poor clit. Like you can’t cum without it.”

“Huh…” your mushy brain barely registers the disrespect to your boyfriend, “hey…!”

“Do you wanna show him I can fuck you better?” despite that questioning lilt, you don’t think a response could change his pre-determined mind, “I can make you cum without setting a fire between your legs.”

He pulls out slow and miserable, smoothing the hand not on your tummy down your back and curling into your hair.

Sukuna leans his weight into you when he bottoms out, he laughs watching your cheek smush against your mattress. He laughs as his hand untangles from your hair to squeeze around the soft fat of your hip. He laughs when you wheeze with the springs as he pulls out and thrusts back in, rolling his hips flush against you.

“What a good bunny I have,” he coos, slicking his hot tongue over the exposed flesh of your neck, relishing in how his skin audibly pap, papa, paps against yours. You moan, lightheaded, and your forehead hangs into your pillow. He presses on that spot where he bulges inside you, going mad over the choked gasp in your throat, “My sweet bunny.”

Curling an arm around your throat, Sukuna’s muscles squeeze around the soft flesh of your neck. Desperately, the skin of his chest clings to your back as he leans down, teething at the sensitive spot on your shoulder - the one Yuuji bites and the one he bit for himself centuries ago. Licking the sweat from your body and cackling as you squirm under the slick, wet run of his tongue.

His hips quicken, borderline battering that spot in your cunt to really make you messy. You bury your face into the soft pillow, but Sukuna ‘tsk’s and undoes the arm from your neck to lift your chin. He licks up the drool from your lips and swallows the pitchy moans he’s been starving for from behind Yuuji’s ears.

He consumes you, melding your skin to his and ensuring you cannot leave again.

“Good- “ he grits it between clenched teeth, “girl! Good girl. Good girl,” he grunts each word between thrusts. He groans, thick and gravelly, digging his nails into your soft skin, “My best fucking girl.”

Your face is on fire, the backs of your thighs clinging to Sukuna’s, and the wetness of your cunt stringing between the both of you. Loud, sloppy echoes of that wetness only make the fire burn hotter. You whine, hands scrambling back and clinging to Sukuna’s thighs, nails biting into the thick muscle.

“Aw, you’re squeezing me,” Sukuna refuses to slow down, bouncing your body on his cock from behind, “Are ya gonna cum, bunny?”

And any respect you were trying to maintain for your out-of-commission boyfriend is quickly tossed aside, “Yes! Yes, ‘m gonna cum, Sukuna…!”

“You want me to make you cum?” he reaches both hands down and takes hold of your face, fingers dipping into your open mouth, “Say it, bunny - fuck - say you want me to make you cum.”

As best you can through his fingers parting your lips and pressing on your tongue, you cry, “Please, Sukuna- please, please make me cum. Wanna cum, wanna cum with you, need you to make me cum…!”

“Need me,” Sukuna repeats, palms soft against you despite bullying his cock into your weepy hole, “Need me, need me, need me…”

“Uh… huh,” you whine, the coil in your stomach eats at itself and your thighs shake, “Need you, Sukuna! Need - hah! - need… cum, please!”

“Cum for me, bunny,” he teases his fingers further into your throat, just to see if you’ll remember.

“God- fuck!” your hands cinch around his thighs just as your cunt does to his cock, tugging him closer, deeper as you finally soak him in your cum. Chanting his name with a sugary, soft, “Sukuna! Sukuna! Sukuna!”

You don’t seem to recognize it, the need to cum overshadowing the need to meld your bodies into one.

His cock spits hot cum in your tight, sucking cunt despite the realization. He keeps himself pressed against you, dragging his fingers from your mouth and circling his arms around your soft waist.

Sukuna rolls onto his back, pulling you on his chest and letting his softening cock slip from you. He peppers your raw, marked shoulder in tender kisses - then moving to your neck - then your cheek. He feels your cheeks ball up in a grin under his attention.

Your ditzy head falls against his shoulder and he doesn’t know how much longer he has like this. So he ignores the cooling saliva on his fingers and the mixed cum flowing from your hole and onto his thigh. He never minded the mess before, and he certainly doesn’t mind it now.

“Don’t forget me, hm?” you blink up at him drowsily, “If you ever get tired of that brat.”

You don’t remember asking him to gobble you up, and you don’t remember wanting to clutch his hand in your final moments, but you still see something in him. Something he thought was sealed away long, long ago.

He misses you. Whatever life you shared, he hasn’t been able to mourn.

Giggling, you nod and kiss his cheek. He slips hair from your hair and studies the way you flutter into sleep. Commits it to his memory and lets Yuuji take back the body with little more than a scoff.

You rouse later in the night, feeling your bed dip beside you, a thick warm arm sweeping you into an equally warm chest. A steady heartbeat ba-dumps into your ear. You nestle into the cradle.

“Cleaned ya and then showered,” Yuuji murmurs, lips soft against your forehead, “I take it you liked the big guy?”

Snorting, you nod sluggishly, cheek sticking to his skin, “Mhmm.”

“Good,” he suddenly groans, “Sukuna doesn’t know anything!”

“Mh?”

“I can make you cum without your clit,” he pouts, looking down at you despite your closed eyes, “You believe in me, right, babe?”

“Mhm.”

“Exactly. Thank you!” he kisses your forehead this time, “Alright, we’ll try that another day. Get some sleep already, jeez!”

“Hm!” you huff fitfully.

“Okay, okay,” he whispers, “Shutting up now.”

And, for now, you ignore how right it felt to have Sukuna’s mean fingers fucking your mouth.

~~~

people i think will be into this @moonlitdivination @kingofthe-egirls

[worldlxvlys]

Hi baby!

I love your writing so much!

Are you able to do a aftercare fic? Majority of smut stories I see they have little to no aftercare or very shitty aftercare

Hope you're doing well!

earned it (one of the girls part 3)

fwb! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, cream pie, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), pretty fluffyyyy, cursing

a/n: hopefully this is enough aftercare for you 🙏🏾

hope you enjoyyy

part 1. part 2.

“well? what are you so afraid of?” she asked, looking at me expectantly.

“i don’t know” i breathed out, finding it difficult to speak the words i wanted to.

she squinted her eyes at me, “yes you do, chris. why are you lying to me?”

fuck her for knowing me so well.

“i’m not” i spoke, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“yes you are”

“no, i’m…” my voice trailed off as she leaned over me on the bed, making me move my body away from hers until i was laying down.

“do i make you nervous, chris ?” she asked as she looked down at me.

yes.

“no”

“still lying, huh?” she asked as she ground her hips down into mine.

“oh my god” i groaned as my hands shot out to her waist.

“no touching until you stop lying to me” she spoke as she slapped my hands away.

her hands pushed down on my chest, keeping my body pressed to the bed as she rubbed her clothed pussy against my bulge.

“touch me again and i’ll tie your ass up” she spoke before pulling her shirt over her head.

“fuck” i sighed out as i realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

you make it look like it’s magic

‘cause i see nobody, nobody but you, you, you

i was lost in the way her hips moved on top of me. the way she leaned back on my thighs, her head thrown back in pleasure.

she knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it.

when she put her mind to something, she never allowed anything to stop her. and right now, she was determined to get the truth out of me.

i was damn near ready to give it to her.

she never broke eye contact with me, despite my dominant nature, she was never intimidated by me.

although she was usually the submissive one, she never failed to put me in my place.

so i love when you call unexpected

‘cause i hate when the moment’s expected

so i’ma care for you, you, you

i’ma care for you, you, you, you

she caught me off guard with the role switch, the last thing i was expecting tonight was to have her on top of me, looking down at me with those hooded eyes.

she knew exactly what to do to drive me crazy, she knew what to do to get me to break.

she grabbed my hand, moving it up her ribcage but stopping right under her breast.

“wanna touch, chris?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and batting her eyelashes at me.

i nodded my head frantically.

“beg”

“no”

“no?” she raise her eyebrows at me, halting her movements.

“i wanna take care of you” i spoke up to her.

“that’s a first” she scoffed. “you can make it up to me after, right now i wanna hear you beg”

“you want me so bad? you care about me? actions speak louder than words, pretty boy. so fucking prove it”

“please. i wanna touch you so badly, ma. i wanna worship your body, show you how much you mean to me. wanna show you how loved you are” i said.

cause girl, you’re perfect

you’re always worth it

and you deserve it

the way you work it

“go ahead then” she said. as soon as the words came out of her mouth, i sat up, wrapping my arms around her waist.

“love your tits” i whispered before bringing one into my mouth, making her moan.

i focused on swirling my tongue around her nipple before doing the same to the other one.

i left open-mouthed kisses all over her chest while staring up at her.

“i know you like it rough, but i’m gonna take my time with you. you deserve it”

‘cause girl, you earned it, yeah

girl, you earned it, yeah

i left kisses up her neck, and jaw before leaving them all over her face.

“chris!” she laughed before i placed a soft kiss against her lips.

“you’re so fucking beautiful, have i ever told you that?”

“yeah, but you were also buried inside of me when you said it so i don’t think that counts” she said playfully.

“i mean everything i tell you, no matter when i say it. it’s never just the heat of the moment baby” i whispered to her.

“ok” she whispered back, a slight smile growing on her face.

i left kisses all up and down her arms, before starting my descent down her stomach.

“can i?” i asked as my mouth stopped at her sleep shorts.

“always, chris”

on that lonely night

said it wouldn’t be love

but we felt the rush

i couldn’t keep my hands off of her, not being able to touch her seemed to have affected me way more than i thought it had.

i needed to feel her bare body against mine.

“need to feel you” i whispered against her skin, looking up at her.

“you have me, chris. i’m right here” she responded, breathing heavily.

i pulled down her shorts and panties, while she helped me rid myself of my own clothes.

once they were off, i flipped us around, laying her down under me.

we just stared at each other for a while, so many unspoken words being exchanged through our eyes.

we both knew what this meant, but were too scared to say it aloud.

i love you.

at least, that’s what i was thinking. who knows what was going on in her head.

“mark me” i told her.

“what?” she asked, eyes widening.

“no more other girls, i only want you. i’m yours, so mark me”

she wasted no time in pulling my neck down, placing her lips on it.

i let out a moan at the feeling of her sucking on the skin, her lips massaging the area sensually before she let it go.

she moved further up my neck, repeating the motion several times, before moving her head back to admire her work.

“pretty” she whispered with a smile on her face.

i dipped my head back down, now leaving kisses to her thighs.

‘cause girl you’re perfect

you’re always worth it

and you deserve it

“you deserve all of the love in this world, and if no one else gives it to you, then i will” i spoke between kisses. “i love everything about you”

“chris-”she started, but let out a loud moan when i licked a stripe up her pussy.

“just need a little taste” i spoke as i stared at her wetness.

i hooked my hands around her thighs before lapping at her arousal.

“oh my god, chris. yes, yes, it feels so good!” she gasped.

i groaned against her as i felt her thighs push against my hands, attempting to close.

her gasps and moans filled the room as i continued to work my tongue through her folds, relishing in the taste of her against my tongue.

i pushed my tongue into her needy hole, her hands flying to my hair to grip the brown locs.

i curled my tongue inside of her, shoveling it through her velvety walls, making her scream.

“c-chris, i’m gonna cum if you keep doing that” she moaned out.

i shook my head side to side, allowing my nose to press against her clit, before moving my face away.

“god, you taste so fucking good” i whispered as i licked my lips, watching as she looked down at me with her eyes slightly widened.

“need you so bad, chris” she whined, clenching her thighs together.

“i got you, princess. just relax. gonna take care of you” i told her before lining myself up with her.

“ready?” i asked, grabbing her hips. once she gave me a nod in response, i pushed into her.

her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to her, making us both moan as i bottomed out.

i leaned down, pressing my chest to hers as i began to move.

my thrusts were slow but deep, allowing her walls to cling onto my dick tightly.

“h-holy shit” i groaned out, shuddering at the way she felt around me.

we’d done this a million times before, but this time was different.

it felt like i was closer to her than i’d ever been.

she looked so good, staring up at me with her face contorted in pleasure, her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“god, you feel so good around me. not gonna last long” i groaned when she clenched around me in response.

“fuck, i-i’m so close” i moaned as my hands clenched the bedsheet under her.

“good, i want you to fill me up so badly” she spoke as she stared up at me.

she was pushing me closer to my orgasm embarrassingly fast, but i couldn’t help it.

being with her like this was driving me crazy. my every thought was consumed by her. my skin pressed against hers, the taste of her essence lingering on my tongue, her breathy moans, her hands wrapped around my arms, all of the little things turned me on even more.

“come on, chris. you gonna cum with me?” she asked as she clenched around me again, pushing me over the edge.

“oh my god! fuck, fuck, i’m cumming” i panted out as i shot my load inside of her, making her cry out.

she shook under me as she released all over my cock, while my seed continued to spurt out of me.

“fuck, chris. didn’t even know you could cum this much” she spoke when i finished, her inner thighs covered in my pleasure.

when i pulled out, we watched our juices spill out of her and onto the sheets.

“got anymore?” she asked before wrapping her hand around my dick, making my hips jerk into her hand.

“w-wait, baby that- shit, shit, shit” i whimpered as more cum shot out of me.

“hmm, someone liked that, huh?” she teased as she continued to stroke me, watching as my hips shook.

i went to grab her wrist, but she stopped me before i could.

“what’s that you always tell me? sit there and take it?” she smirked at me.

a few more beads of cum flew out of me before she let go of me, making me let out a heavy sigh.

“i- you’re fucking insane” i breathed out as she pulled me on top of her into a hug.

“ yup, and you love it” she smiled, leaving a kiss to my nose.

“ok, i gotta go now” i spoke as i began to get up, jokingly.

she saw the smile on my face, knowing i was joking, before pulling me back down onto her.

“shut the hell up, you’re not funny” she narrowed her eyes at me.

“i think i’m hilarious”

“i think it’s hilarious how i just had you whimpering a minute ago”

my smile instantly dropped at that, as i shot her a glare, “ok fuck you”

“just saying” she shrugged.

“are you ok? anything hurt?” i asked, scanning her body over.

“i’m ok, chris”

“mmhm, what hurts?” i asked as i placed a few kisses to her shoulder.

“my legs”

“want a massage?” i asked her.

“please” she sighed out.

i moved down to her legs, placing my hands on one and gently squeezing it.

i rubbed the soft skin between my hands, soothing her achey muscles.

she moaned at the feeling, her eyes fluttering shut.

i continued to massage her leg, her noises of approval fueling me to keep going, before moving to the other leg.

when i finished i looked up to tell her i was done, only to be met with her soft snores.

i went to her bathroom, wetting a clean wash cloth with warm water, and coming back to clean her up.

when i finished, i put my shirt on her to keep her from getting cold, before cleaning myself up.

i discarded the wash cloth in the hamper before getting back into the bed with her, pulling the blanket over both of us.

i looked at her before whispering, “i love you so much, you’re worth it. i’m not running away ever again”

‘cause girl you’re perfect

the way you work it

you deserve it

girl, you deserve it

🌹🌹🌹🌹

masterlist

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[hedwig221b]

Heey, was wondering if you could recommend some magical stiles fics, preferably sterek.

Thank you 😊

Magical Stiles, my beloved!!! 💖

My Mother Told Me by Renmackree

Stiles joined the Emissary program to help Alpha wolves settle into their new roles and to follow in his mother’s footsteps. She had always told him he was destined to run with the wolves, but he thought she meant Scott and his pack.

Instead, Stiles finds himself sent to Thingvallavatn, Iceland, with Alpha Derek Hale. It's clear the Alpha is hiding a part of him that Stiles can’t reach, but when a monster comes to threaten the pack, it’s always great to have someone in your corner with a little mischief up their sleeve

My, What Big Shoulders You Have (The Better to Help You Carry the Weight) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Talia was just telling me an interesting story,” his dad informed him. Stiles didn’t have the nerve to glance over at him, because he knew no matter how much he argued, the proof was all there. The wolves had found him, Parrish had picked him up on the side of the road, he had a fucking picture on his phone. He was screwed. No point in arguing, all it’d do is piss his father off even more.

“You don’t say,” Stiles offered slowly. “What uh—you know, I like stories. Is it a uh, good one?”

“It seems to be a matter of opinion,” Talia said with another kind smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night.”

Okay, time to cut his losses. He was already fucked, all he could do was apologize and hope she didn’t press for him to get fined and arrested. Given he was her husband’s friend’s son, he had high hopes.

“I’m really sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “It was stupid and-and irresponsible and just—I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have crossed into your territory. I should’ve known better, I do know better! It was a complete lapse in judgement and I am just—I am so sorry.”

Came For The Spark, Stayed For The Flame

Derek felt the panic build up in his chest as Jezebel held out a hand. He smelled it before he saw it, because who could forget the scent of what destroyed your life? Fire and spark and smoke curled from Jezebel's hands, and the wood stacked at Stiles' feet flared up.

When Stiles and Derek get bonded as Emissary-and-Alpha, hidden attractions become a lot harder to hide, secrets are kept and secrets are surfaced, and an evil teenage girl is planning even more ritualistic sacrifice. Canon divergence from the end of 3a.

A Letter From Mom by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal

After waking up at the age of 11 without any memories of his past Stiles spends eight years with his father in the tiny town of Shelter Cove, California. After his father's death he receives a notice from a storage facility in some town called Beacon Hills. Stiles is confused and thinks the manager made a mistake until he finds a letter that should have been for his 18th birthday that his dad never gave him. It's from his mother, who he has no memory of. Weirdly enough, her letter mentions Beacon Hills and some woman named Talia, who he's supposed to trust. Confused and angry at his father, Stiles sets out for Beacon Hills anxious and determined to find out what his dad had been hiding from him all these years.

Truth in Pretense by wanderingeyre

Stiles took the straw from his drink and started chewing on it. He pulled it from his mouth and stood. He grinned at Derek. “Stop frowning, Sourwolf. I have a solution that will solve all our problems.”

“And that would be?” Derek didn’t move as Stiles moved closer to him.

Stiles winked at Derek. “We get married.” --- The one where Derek and Stiles pretend to be mates to help out a neighboring Pack and find there is some truth in pretense.

Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.”

That was a bad word. Not found.

Have.

Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment.

One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

If You’re Going Through Hell (Keep Going)

Stiles thought everything leading up to Allison’s death was hell, but he was wrong. Spending senior year dealing with the pack’s dismissal of him while secretly training to be Deaton’s replacement was hell. Feeling guilty and hating himself for what the Nogitsune did was hell. Being in love with someone who would never love him back was hell. Well, if you’re going through hell, keep going.

Striking Matches by eeyore9990

Stiles has only ever wanted to protect his family and his pack. That’s not easy to do when you're human and sarcasm is your only defense. Now Deaton is telling Stiles he’s a spark, and if that’s a weapon in his arsenal, he’s sure as hell going to learn to use it.

All Stiles needs now, to complete his transformation into a true badass, is a training montage and a decent soundtrack...

A Similar String by snarkatthemoon

Strong bonds made for a strong pack, and he needed a strong pack.

They spent a long time in silence, Derek thinking hard about how he was going to cement the bonds. It needed to be done, and not just because they had the threat of the witch hanging over them, but for the good of the pack.

It felt like hours had passed by the time he came around; he had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Stiles moving around on the couch so that his head was resting on Derek’s thigh, his long legs hanging over the arm on the far end.

He wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were closed and his heartbeat wasn’t as fast as it usually was, as if he was just on the edge of sleep. It should have felt weird, having Stiles in such close contact, but Derek found that it really didn’t feel weird at all. His head was a comforting weight in Derek’s lap, another anchor tethering him and keeping him calm and in control. . Or, the one where Derek meets a witch, gets his betas back, and seemingly develops a sense of humour. Also, Stiles is totally magic, manages to accidentally join a werewolf pack, and asks too many goddamn questions. What could possibly go wrong?

here in the heart (of my sanctuary) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

Talia accelerates through the tunnel, and Derek looks up, watches the light that makes it through the bramble dance and shift over the hood of the car as they drive, fingers gripping the sides of the tank. It’s beautiful, like a gateway to another world. He’s lived in the preserve his whole life, and he didn’t know this was here.

She eyes him. “You should know this man is very important to me. I take the responsibility of his care and counsel very seriously. Handing him over to you…it’s not a small thing. Please keep that in mind.”

No pressure, then.

A Teenage Love Song by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas)

Stiles is sick and tired of how much he fucks up. His dad is disappointed, his step-mom judges and his step-brother can do no wrong. It's not that he doesn't love them, he just gets so tired of being different. Now he's being moved lock, stock and barrel to Beacon Hills aka the town his mom grew up in so they can go live in his grandma's house and his father can get him back on the straight and narrow.

It's going to suck.

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | mafia | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse

[theyluvkarolina]

𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒔 ‧₊˚⭑

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

‧₊˚🖇️⭑ “ 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒅!! 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒗𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎!! ” ⊹ ‧₊˚

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 ‧₊˚ Everyone loves F1 drivers with kids. Along with kids loving F1 drivers… but what about F1 drivers finally achieving what many others would dream of? Having a family.

🗣️ ‧₊˚ all oc’s/mood boards created are mine! more will be added with due time if wanted.

📝 ‧₊˚ last updated : 9/25/24

𝐌𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒂 “𝒔𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒆” 𝒑𝒊𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑ 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Oscar doesn’t mean to come off as a panicking first time father, but his little one is his whole world! How will that anxiety crawl up when and boil over when it’s her first Grand Prix?

⭑ 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Oscar’s daughter has favorites. And sadly, he isn’t one of hers, in fact her favorite happens to be her favorite American, Logan. He says it’s fine and that he doesn’t care… but actions speak louder than words.

⭑ 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Oscar assures he has everything under control when you go out for a girls night and is left to watch your guys’ daughter. But Sadie constantly proves him wrong.

⭑ 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ it was a rough weekend to say the least. Sadie's first tennis tournament didn't exactly go as planned in her mind. how does oscar handle his little girl being to down with herself?

??? 𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒔 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑

𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈

𝒏𝒐𝒆𝒎𝒊é 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑ 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢-𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Charles loves his new little family. Especially his little girl and he won’t go anywhere without her. Even for interviews.

⭑ 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Being on a work trip for 4 days leaves Charles to take care of your little girl. He assumed everything will be just fine only to be proven wrong with having to balance both F1 and being a father. On a race weekend at that.

⭑ 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 (semi-canon fic!)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ A day in the Leclerc home is never quiet. Cause of noise this day? Charles’s screams of horror when his boys don’t support Ferrari. And the biggest blow? They support Redbull and Mclaren

𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒊á𝒏 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒛 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑

𝑹𝑬𝑫𝑩𝑼𝑳𝑳 𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮

??? 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏

⭑

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐆

??? 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒍

⭑

??? 𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒕𝒐𝒏 (𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅!)

⭑

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝟏

𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒐

⭑ 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Being a father was everything Fernando wanted on top of his racing career, but his age causes concerns. But your there to lift his spirits. Along with some reminiscing before a bittersweet day.

⭑ 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ If anything, Fernando wants his private life to remain private, but the constant questioning of you in the garage raises eyebrows and speculation. And one post confirming everything sends fans into a frenzy.

⭑ 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐄𝐲𝐞

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Fernando loves his little girl. and he isn’t afraid to show that. from her first time in the garage, to her first ever football game. Best of all? Everyone loves girl-dad fernando!!

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑ you can find all headcanons are asks under the Grid Kids tag <3

[gumiluver]

I'm begging you on my knees, can you write a little more of bully Toji???

oh heck yea I can luv, ‘bouta speak some straight facts about bully!toji >:) <3

cover pic credit: @/miywao on pinterest | border credit: @/cafekitsune

luver <3: afab!reader x fushiguro/zen’in toji

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact (you will be blocked!) | wc: ~500

cw: toxic relationships, mean/bully toji, degradation, exhibition (slightly), possessiveness, guest appearance w shiu :D

an: this is my first time doing a drabble so pls pls plssss tell me your guys’ thoughts!! inbox & requests are open as always!! <3

bully!toji has a mouth on him, unlike that of any of the men you’ve ever met before. his words are much meaner than his actions, calling you all sorts of nasty little names as he bullies his cock in your womb, “piece a fuckin’ work you are, gonna slut ya out real good.” <3

bully!toji scolds you like a father, knowing it hits on a much deeper, psychological level. he knows it’s fucked up, but that’s what entices him to you in the first place—loving the way you fold so easily once he’s got you laying over his lap, scolding you like the misbehaving brat that you’ve been, “how many fuckin’ times I gotta spank ya before you learn your lesson eh? Don’t mouth off t’ me again, brat.” <3

bully!toji has no mercy, dueling out punishments to the full extent. no amount of kickin’ or cryin’ could get you away from him and his arsenal of ‘weapons’ fully loaded and ready to make you bend to his will and submit—like the good girl he knows you can be, “don’t start strugglin’ now brat, you dug your grave—now fuckin’ lie in it.” <3

bully!toji absolutely looooves it when the waterworks come to play, your teary eyes matching your slick pussy as they each let drops of your essence roll down along your flesh, trailing sweet little lines or toji to lick and kiss as he bites and sucks at your flesh. the single act of kindness he’ll do for you before he ravishes you to completion, “fuuuuck…who knew such a spoiled lil princess could taste so fuckin’ sweet.” <3

bully!toji doesn’t really care if you apologize for your bratty behavior, it’s waaaay too late for that, but he does think it’s cute—he can’t help but be a big softy for you internally, his heart clenching in agony at your huffs of frustration. but how else were you gonna learn? sending you off without any consequences would be a disservice to you—that’s what he keeps tellin’ himself as he continues pistoning his hips into you at a bruising pace, not letting up even when you beg, “ya had your chance pretty thing, don’t think battin’ your eyelashes and poutin’ will get ya outta this one.” <3

bully!toji purposefully messes with you too, loving how you get so flustered, so wound up. he’ll watch you scrunch your brows in anger, stomp your feet a little louder as you sashay your hips away from him, “where do ya think your goin’ girl? ya better get that pretty ass of your back over here if you know what’s good for ya.” <3

bully!toji knows your bratty mouth is all just a little act, “his little drama queen,” he’ll say to Shiu whenever the two of you are at each others throats in front of him. toji doesn’t mind it one bit tho, it just means he gets to play with you for longer, and maybe with an audience just this once, “if I didn’t know any better I woulda missed that sass slip between that nasty mouth a yours—whaddaya’ think Shiu? should we train that mouth better?” <3

and while bully!toji may seem to completely and unequivocally despise you to his hearts content, he realizes that you’ve been the only person in his life that has made him feel so passionate, so alive—it makes him mad with desire to a point where all he can think of is making you his and only his brat, “don’t get it twisted now doll, your mine. I don’t care who I gotta fuck up to make it known to everyone but you. are. mine—got it?” <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

[sunshine7queen]

@yuujispinkhair @windlullaby @preciousamethyst @thefallofruins @samaraxmorgan

@quinnyundertow

Can you do tiger sukuna when reader is sad

𐔌 . ⋮ You sat on the edge of the couch, head in your hands, trying to stifle the quiet sobs that had been building up all day. It had been one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong, and the weight of it was too much to hold in anymore. You felt the cushion dip beside you, and you barely registered the low rumble of a growl before a warm, furred body pressed against your side.

Sukuna had been watching you from the shadows for a while, his sharp senses picking up on your sadness long before you even let the tears fall. Though he usually held himself with a regal, feral air, something in your sorrow tugged at him, and he couldn't just stand back and watch.

You felt the brush of his thick fur as he leaned into you, his massive head nudging your arm. His usual ferocity was subdued, his growling soft and low, almost like a purr in his own way. He didn’t say anything—words were never his strong suit when it came to comforting—but his presence was grounding.

You lifted your head, meeting his crimson gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he huffed through his nose, nudging you more insistently, as if saying, I’m here. Stop crying already. But when you didn’t immediately respond, he let out a grumble and circled around to press his body fully against yours, almost protectively.

You sniffled and gave him a small, weary smile, your fingers instinctively burying into the soft fur around his neck. "You’re really not so bad, are you?" you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion.

Sukuna didn’t respond, but you noticed the way his large ears flicked, the tension in his body easing just a little at your touch. He pushed his head into your lap with a grumpy huff, demanding more attention, more scratches, anything that would keep you from being upset.

You chuckled softly through your tears, running your fingers gently over the black stripes that ran down his fur. "Thank you," you whispered, leaning down to rest your forehead against his, feeling the warmth and steady comfort he provided.

His eyes half-closed as he leaned into your touch, letting out a soft growl that reverberated through his chest. Though Sukuna would never admit it, seeing you sad made something twist in his gut, and he’d do anything to make it stop—even if it meant staying by your side, his presence alone offering you the comfort you needed.

As your breathing slowed and the tears faded, you curled up beside him, his fur wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. Sukuna’s large form remained steady, his tail curling slightly around your legs, keeping you close.

Even in his silence, even with his rough exterior, you knew he cared. Maybe he wasn’t good with words, but his actions said everything he couldn’t. And in that moment, his warmth was all you needed .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱