#heathen tattoos

[buboplague]

redundant zinru doodles while trying to test and learn an ipad

[lunasarcanum]

A stave I was commissioned to create to be tattooed that represents the true self unfettered, of flowing inner change, and of positive protection.

[honoringthor]

Trying to design my next tattoo

A floral mjolnir. I don’t really like the typical tattoos.

The plants are houseleek, oak, hazel, hawthorn, and cinquefoil.

Need some sources about some of these plants. What plants do you associate with Thor.

[frnkiebby]

frank in one of his natural habitats~🎃

[darlingtons-after-dark]

What would a beach vacation be without a little after dark spice? ✨

[enormous-moose]

I'm slowly talking myself into a tattoo...

I need it to mean something. It needs to reflect my spiritual awakening and personal growth.

Definitely needs to be pagan or witchcraft related.

Any ideas?

[homoeroticfisticuffs]

i think i want one of my next tattoos to be inspired by the second merseburg charm but i'm having trouble finding artistic interpretations of it or even thinking about how to explain what i want in case i want to have art commissioned for it or just have the artist come up with something. alternatively i thought about just getting one of the bracteates tatted but i don't knowwww ughhhhhhh help

[amercanheathen]

[zerozenn0]

My tattoos are a Chinese serpentine dragon, a rune tablet, and a flaming leviathan.

[ancientskin]

Nidhöggr - Yggdrasil project wip - In Norse mythology, Níðhöggr (Malice Striker, in Old Norse traditionally also spelled Níðhǫggr, often anglicized Nidhogg) is a dragon who gnaws at a root of the world tree, Yggdrasil. In historical Viking society, níð was a term for a social stigma, implying the loss of honor and the status of a villain.

[almostempty]

it’s not that deep but it is that serious!

(editing and reblogging to clarify a couple things at the end of the post - edited once more to combine the second reblog into one)

I just want to come to this app to talk about deep throating mean!Joel and to make friends with other hot freaks. But I need my fellow heathens to hear me out for a moment.

I’ve tried to keep this space a little escape from reality, but that’s not a realistic privilege because life and art are inherently political.

I've seen friends and mutuals receiving hateful, racist, and cruel anons recently. I know these issues aren’t new for our Black and brown peers.

I see a lot of folks jumping to offer support and to express their disgust at the racist remarks.

I also see a lot of shock and disbelief and I want to talk about that.

Racism, bigotry, and prejudice are not new issues for Black and brown folks. If you find yourself shocked, surprised, and outraged when folks share the hate they receive I ask that you reflect on this. It’s a privilege to be surprised, to not be used to navigating and experiencing that vitriol.

I know it’s well intended when folks say things like, ‘if you’re a racist piece of shit get off my blog’ or similar messages, and i understand the anger and frustration. (*i appreciate seeing solidarity and i also do not want to police (acab) how people respond to the hate they receive)

I also don’t think anyone who is aware and actively spreading hate will be deterred. I imagine there are 4chan incel type trolls that just thrive on the attention and reaction of using the most inflammatory language they can, and trolls will troll. They inevitably will pop up.

What I want to address is the levels below the overt and active hate. The accidental or inadvertent covert racism. The micro aggressions. The passive silence or enabling of rhetoric that lets folks perpetuate harm without even thinking.

Black and brown creators in our community have been disregarded or overshadowed when they speak up about diversity or inclusion in this fandom or feeling unwelcomed.

They wade through oceans of moodboards with faceless, thin, white women paired with our favorite characters. They power through reader inserts with freckles, red marks, and pink pussies that say and do things they might never feel safe saying or doing in those universes. They scroll through bad Spanish or fetishized latino caricatures and romanticized colonial values. And they still show love and support by commenting and reblogging and uplifting other writers.

Maybe there are footnotes about the moodboards only being for inspiration, but that doesn’t erase the constant messaging that it was easier to find those pictures and add a note than to search harder or leave the pictures out.

When I saw a fic with a detail about the pedro character having a confederate flag in his trailer I had to pause. This is a perfect example. I don’t read this as malicious or intentionally harmful. I understand the stereotype it’s rooted in and the general humor of the story as a whole. I get that it’s a small detail and that racism wasn’t a core part of the character or the story.

But if we sit with this longer.. what does this tell our Black and brown peers? When the reader notices it and it’s just as notable as a calendar on the wall? And she fucks him willingly anyway?

Hate symbols aren’t unserious. Background or not. Imagine writing a Joel fic and giving him a swastika tattoo just as a background detail. Sounds extreme right? Maybe you’re writing an AU felon Joel and just trying to show how hardened and dark he is. Maybe in your headcanon he only got it in prison to protect himself and he isn’t a racist.

But to nazis it says this is a safe place to be. To the general audience it says you don’t care if this makes them feel unsafe or invisible.

To folks reading that a confederate flag isn’t a big deal, it signals that it’s an acceptable symbol. It shows that people are reading and commenting and sharing this story and are unbothered. That maybe people don’t even notice.

I’m not asking anyone to send hate and I’m not writing this as an attack on the author or anyone who shared the fic. We don’t know what we don’t know, but we have the opportunity to learn!

I am asking my peers to step in and step up, because I think y’all are smart and capable of more.

I am not an expert on anything. But as someone who went to grad school for social work — a field that only exists to combat the societal harm of power, privilege, and oppression — I don’t take it lightly. I work in advocacy fighting discrimination and prejudice from institutions built on systemic racism daily. I’m aware that I have the privilege of training, language, and awareness around diversity and inclusion, and that not everyone has the same knowledge or experience.

I also know this fandom is full of incredibly smart and well spoken folks who craft moving stories and analyze characters with nuance and passion.

I’m not interested in censoring what anyone writes and I happily abide by don’t like; don’t read.

If I only wanted to read I would stick to ao3. But I’m here and I stay here because of the community. The friendships and the extra tag games and challenges and support and camaraderie.

I know I make mistakes myself. And I know it can be uncomfortable to be called out for something you never intended to hurt anyone with. I know it can feel like your voice won’t be heard or your experience won’t be validated in such a big space.

I shared a post a while ago by a creator that doesn’t write for this fandom. It was an ode to Black fanfic writers in general, and in the comments Black writers were tagging each other to show love. And I knew there was something wrong when I wanted to share it but felt deeply hesitant about tagging anyone because I didn’t want Black writers to receive hate.

One of my favorite things about this fandom is how global it is. Getting to make friends with folks around the world is such a treat. I also know racism and fascism are not unique to one region.

It’s Black history month in the states and in Canada. I know other countries observe Black history month in other months. It’s an intentional observation for a reason.

For us, this is a hobby. We’re here voluntarily, and mostly anonymously, but we’re all people. Community is so vital to thwarting the dangers of fascism and hateful rhetoric.

This IS a post about racism.

But racism is absolutely entangled with sexism, classism, ableism, ethnocentrism, capitalism, colonialism, imperialism, patriarchal hegemony, etc.

This isn’t just a rant. It’s an ask. I’m asking my peers—writers, readers, gif makers, lurkers, etc.— to help.

Reflect on what you share and post. Think about how others perceive you.

I’m asking my peers to be curious and open to discussions. To ask questions if you see covert racism. To be willing to accept feedback.

We can be gentle with one another.

Like, ‘hey, I saw this and am wondering if you’re aware of the origin or the impact it might have?’ or ‘can I share how this may be misinterpreted or harmful?’

Be kind sure, but be an advocate!

If you see someone posting about a character being their ‘spirit animal’ — send them a DM! If you read something that stereotypes a race, let the author know! There’s plenty of online resources for writing characters from other races without falling back on harmful tropes.

And even better… support your Black and brown peers. Share their work. Show them you value their presence in the fandom.

I encourage folks to read fics with original characters or reader characters with explicitly diverse ethnicities and tell the author you appreciate that character! Recommend the work to friends.

I never shut up about how much I love Heat and the story is incredibly compelling *because* the reader is a Latina written by a Latina.

Anyway, I come to this hellsite to laugh and be horny—but at my core I am an ethical hater and I only wrote all of this because I care and I want this space to be inclusive.

I’m not speaking on behalf of anyone else and I don’t want to speak over anyone. I’m open to feedback or ideas.

I’m tagging some mutuals I interact with and some that I don’t know very well, not to curse y’all with reading my long winded post but to ask: when you have the capacity will you help take action to make this community stronger? Will you commit to being open to feedback and growth?

Bottom line I just wanna read about getting railed by that fictional guy and I want my Black and brown peers to have the opportunity to enjoy the same escape from reality.

I feel like this is worth posting because I think y’all can make a difference. So many of y’all write and analyze stories and characters with such nuance and passion and detail—and that’s why i believe you can help spot subtle and insidious forms of racism and make real changes.

TL;DR: I’m asking everyone to be proactive when you see microaggressions or covert racism in the fandom, and to be willing to accept feedback and learn from each other. Being passive is a luxury and a privilege our marginalized peers do not have. Let’s be more than performative or not racist. Be active. Be anti-racist.

some tags for folks (no pressure to share, I don’t want attention I just want to encourage folks to take time to reflect or let me know what you think idk): *not calling anyone out as having committed any offenses just feeling compelled to share the message i guess

@auteurdelabre @joelmillerisapunk @lotusbxtch @probablyreadinsmut @ace-turned-confused @baronessvonglitter @yxtkiwiyxt @slimybeth69 @bitchesuntitled @thundermartini @sin-djarin @strang3lov3 @mermaidgirl30 @for-a-longlongtime @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @evolnoomym @wannab-urs @sanarsi @yopossum @almostfoxglove @itwasntimethatdidit40 @syd-djarin @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

to anyone: please start conversations or reach out to me or send me an anon ask if you want to discuss something or share, idc but i’m begging y’all to listen to each other and advocate for one another and be open to self-reflection 💗 editing to add: if i tagged you it was not a callout that i think you've done something specific to reflect on-- just a general invite to join me in being intentional and to invite feedback if you have any! if i made anyone anxious i apologize! - to clarify when i said 'it's not that deep' i mean that maybe fanfic is easily brushed off as not that deep, but every blog is a real person (minus the army of porn bots) and we form real connections in this community <3

edit:

one more thing, 

first and foremost! a reminder that i am speaking about the inclusivity in this fandom as a whole. i don't want to lose the plot over one specific example that blew up. my point is the bulk of the racism in this fandom is perpetrated through micro aggressions and covert racism EVERY DAY. we can make sweeping statements and tell racists to fuck off, but next week we will be back to the status quo (aka where many non-white folks feel unwelcomed, aren't represented, and are disregarded when they raise concerns, etc.) unless we commit to examining ourselves first and looking for the more subtle things that perpetuate the current culture (e.g. harmful stereotypes and racial tropes, fetishizing latinx characters, bad Spanish, writing reader insert fics with specifically white features and characteristics without tagging, using slurs or coded language, etc.)

(i am behind on everything today and haven’t gotten back to everyone who added insightful thoughts and considerations to my original post yet) 

i did see some folks share examples of positive experiences calling-in peers or learning something new themselves and wanted to say thanks and highlight those positives. 

maybe other folks have already brought up the rest of my points and if so i do not mean to speak over anyone, but i wanted to add on to my first post: 

i originally asked everyone to step up and commit to advocating for each other— but i’d like to explicitly ask white folks to step up and look out for our Black and brown friends (who are tired and don’t get to check out irl or online). i am asking white folks to be open to learning and growing with compassion. i am asking white folks to be persistent, proactive, and brave enough to be uncomfortable or wrong. 

when i say we can be gentle with each other i do not mean to minimize pain or anger. i gladly and willingly validate that everyone has a right to be upset and outraged by hatred and racism. i am not asking my Black and brown peers to soften their reactions or dismiss their experiences.

i am (again) asking my white peers to be mindful, to take a breath and listen to what BIPOC folks have to say. to sit with the discomfort and know that seeing hate or racism might be shocking but it is not surprising if you’ve been listening. 

i am asking my white peers to be kind and also strategic. if you have the patience and capacity then do what you can to increase the odds that your peers will be willing to listen and learn. it’s free to try at least. 

most of us that commit micro aggressions or covert racism don't consider ourselves to be racists. we see posts that say 'racists and bigots aren't welcome on this blog' and we agree! we reblog those posts! we pat ourselves on the back for being an ally and continue on without making any other changes-- not because we are bad people, but because we have the privilege of feeling welcomed, represented, and valued as a baseline.

this is also my call-in to myself because i’ve allowed myself to stay quiet. i’ve relied on the comfort that my close friends know who i am and what my values are, but i have been passive. i have seen comments or posts that i recognized were ignorant or offensive and continued scrolling. i felt like it wasn't worth the drama to speak up.

i’m fallible and open to feedback ! i am also comfortable being an example, being vulnerable and sharing my mistakes or opportunities for growth. i've gotten more comfortable because i have hours of training and practice but i don't expect others to feel good being called-in or to anticipate what might make them act defensively.

i know the core principle of cultural humility is that nobody is an expert on culture, that the best practice is to remain open and curious, to identify your own values and beliefs, and to confront stereotypes. it is an ongoing process of self-reflection and commitment to growth 

and so i volunteer to be here for any of my white friends that want to make this fandom a more inclusive space, but are feeling uncertain or uncomfortable. (i am not offering to defend racism or excuse hate)

there is extreme cognitive dissonance in believing you are a good person, a not-racist person, and a friend and ally— and being confronted with the idea you are perpetuating stereotypes, inadvertently causing harm, or alienating folks you care about. 

I know it seems like a safe option to stay quiet if you think you might say the wrong thing or make a situation worse. 

I know it’s hard enough to send someone a friendly message or to know what to comment on a fic you loved, let alone to feel empowered to point out something that might make someone else react defensively. I’m not volunteering to be the morality police (acab) but i’m here for all of my friends, mutuals, and peers in the fandom who want support with calling-in others or learning. i encourage and welcome discussion and curiosity. 

i ask white folks to make conscious changes so that when these conversations die down we don’t fall back into enabling white ignorance to infect the fandom and harm our friends.

bonus thoughts

i see and am grateful for the folks that called my first post eloquent and at the same time i am deeply aware of the ‘angry Black woman’ trope that undermines and minimizes Black women’s voices (especially when they are rightfully angry). i guess i’m just repeating that i don’t want to speak over anyone but i am committing to speaking up. 

i don’t want to harp on the confederate flag example anymore, but i would like to be clear that this isn’t about censorship. Consider the context and don’t turn this into a straw man argument or dilute the message with whataboutery. It speaks volumes if you’d rather argue semantics than listen to your peers about the reality of impact vs intent with that example or others. 

thank you for reading and being here <3

[0alix0]

i wheeze every time i remember that rook is canonically into cultural appropriation

"the vallaslin is sacred for the elves"

no, it fucking isn't. it's sacred for the dalish. the exact people who decided to preserve their culture even if it meant to become homeless and wear a mantle of heretics and heathens for their entire lives and be persecuted and killed because of that

"I didn't grow up dalish but they're not the only ones who have claim on being elven."

...rook, are you stupid? ok, fine, define "being elven" then. city elves have their own culture (more like an offshoot of such but yk), they don't need vallaslin. they don't wear it. why do you suddenly do? did you learn the meaning of it? did you go through a ritual where a Keeper applies them in a complete silence? or did you just get it from the least drunk pirate in a nearest bar because you just wanted a fancy tat that make you look more ~mysterious~ and cool than you really are??

"my tattoos represent who i am, and i'll wear them for the world to see"

And who are you, rook??? you're not dalish, who wear it as a sign of respect to their gods. what is vallaslin supposed to represent for you? that you're elven?? we can see that, you have pointy ears, that's more than enough! maybe you wanted to show its meaning from ancient times? but the only ones who wore it back then were slaves! are you an ancient slave, rook? oh, maybe you want to reclaim vallaslin as something else?? well, too bad that dalish has already done it!! and you're not one of them!!!!

this game is, honestly, fucking legendary. because no other game made me so frustrated with 3 lines alone, that i had to take a break and rant about this shit

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Only you

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female) Authors note: so you filthy heathens - you all voted for the sihtric x wife!reader pwp - so here it is. I had it already half written for my fictober before life got nasty and threw me out of tracks. In my mind it's S3 Sihtric and wife having missed each other after a long time apart but you can imagine him however you want as there are actually no direct references to any time period and no plot either just pure smut. Sorry, not sorry. Warnings: pure SMUT 18+ Word Count: 2,6K Summary: plot? never heard of it. Sihtric and wife!reader just can't get enough of each other, breeding kink to some extent, pwp

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

Sihtric runs his hands from your ass up to your bare hips, squeezing them. His large, calloused palms grip your hips with a bruising intensity, his tattooed fingers digging deep into your flesh, leaving red marks in their wake as he guides your movements. His eyes are glazed, pupils blown wide as his ragged breaths escape him—he’s completely consumed by the sight of you, as though nothing in this world could ever be enough to quench his hunger. He loves to watch you riding him.

With your palms pressed against the solid plane of his chest, you bounce rhythmically on his cock, each movement sending ripples of pleasure through his body. Your hair falls in wild strands across your face, half-lidded eyes glazed with desire, lips parted with breathless moans as your breasts bounce before his eyes. 

You are so beautiful. Sometimes he still can’t really fathom that you are his. His wife, his woman, his anchor in the chaos, his everything. The pleasure you are giving him right now is beyond anything he could ever express. He moans loudly. “Yes, baby… just like that,” he groans, his voice rough and strained with pleasure. 

You lean forward, bracing yourself against his shoulders, your lips finding the tender curve of his neck. You suck lightly on his skin, drawing a shudder from him that makes his hands falter for a moment.

“Sihtric,” you murmur, the sound of it sending a thrill down his spine. His response is immediate—his hips buck upward, driving him deeper into you, and the gasp that escapes your mouth has him smirking faintly through the haze of pleasure.

“You feel so good,” he growls, his eyes locking onto yours. There’s fire in them, a hunger that only you can sate. “So perfect. Mine.”

The words send a rush of heat through you, and you can only nod, too lost in the sensations to form coherent words.

His thoughts are a blur, his mind consumed entirely by you. In this moment, nothing else exists—no worries, no duties, no other needs. There is only you, riding him with the ferocity of a valkyrie, stealing the air from his lungs and wrenching broken moans from his lips.

“By Freya, you’re driving me mad,” he growls, his voice rough and frayed, heavy with the strain of holding himself together as your walls clench tightly around him, drawing him in deeper with every roll of your hips.

His mismatched eyes trail downward, fixating on the place where your bodies are joined. He watches how you move on top of him, the rhythmic sway of your hips, the way his cock disappears into your slick heat as you take him in over and over again, your arousal coating his length – the sight alone threatens to unravel him. 

“Gods…” he rasps, his breath hitching, the hunger in his gaze unrestrained. “Keep going,” he murmurs hoarsely, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to watch your every movement. “You’re perfect—so perfect.”

The feeling of your tight walls squeezing around his cock draws another ragged moan from his throat, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. You feel like you were made for him, your body crafted to take him, to hold him, to pull him deeper into your molten heat.

He’s close—so agonisingly close—but he fights against the urge. For months, every lonely night away from you had been a torment. Following Uhtred from battle to battle, he had fallen asleep with your image burned behind his closed eyes, your name a silent prayer on his lips, his hand seeking a pale imitation of the release only you could give.

And now, with you finally here, your body wrapped so tightly around him, he aches to make this moment last forever. He wants to memorise every gasp, every shiver, every whispered moan, and draw them out until the stars fade and the sun rises. 

A loud whimper escapes your lips as his hands slide from your hips, trailing upward with deliberate slowness. His palms are rough, calloused from swinging his war axe, but the way they cup your breasts feels so gentle. His fingers tease over your sensitive skin, brushing against the hardened peaks before pinching gently, sending jolts of pleasure through your body and another gasp spills from your lips.

Sihtric’s one hand keeps cupping your breast while the other tangles in your hair, drawing your face to his. His lips crash against yours, the kiss wild and heated, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he can’t get enough of you.

You smile through your lust. Your mingled moans and gasps of pleasure fill the room, rising with every shared breath. You can feel he’s close—the hitch in his breathing, the way his muscles tense beneath your fingertips. His control is slipping, his restraint unravelling, and it sends a thrill coursing through you.

Sihtric’s hands slide down to your hips, his grip firm, almost desperate, as he guides you up and down his thick, throbbing length. “By the gods,” he groans, his voice deep and rough with want. “You’re so beautiful… so warm and tight around me. You feel—so good.”

His praise sends a shiver down your spine, and your body responds instinctively, your movements quickening, matching the rhythm he sets. You bite down on your bottom lip, the pleasure almost too much to bear, each drag of his cock inside you drawing out soft, breathless whines that make his eyes darken with desire.

You pick up your pace, hips slamming down against his, taking him deeper, stretching yourself around him. You’ve missed him—missed his touch, his presence, the way his body completes yours. Every dark, lonely night you spent chasing fleeting highs, imagining his hands on your skin, feeling the ache of your empty womb, longing for him to fill you, to claim you fully.

You lean forward, hands gripping harshly at Sihtric’s shoulders as your lips brush against the shell of his ear. You lick teasingly at the lobe, coaxing a low groan from him. You keep moving, savouring the feeling of your husband’s thick cock sliding in and out of you, splitting you open like only he can. You dig your nails into his shoulders, “Give it to me,” you hiss between clenched teeth, your breath hot against his ear. “I want every drop. Fill me up.”

Sihtric’s eyes roll back, your words a trigger that unleashes something primal, untamed inside him. With a guttural groan, his grip tightens on your hips, his hands trembling with raw need as he holds you in place and begins pounding up into your aching cunt from below with a fierce, unstoppable rhythm. 

Your mind spins with the sinful pleasure, his cock hitting that swollen, sensitive spot inside you again and again, each thrust more demanding than the last. Your core clenches around him, your body teetering on the edge, the pleasure too intense, too consuming. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your teeth and lips leaving marks on his sensitive flesh as your whimpers and moans are getting louder and louder the harder and faster your husband fucks you.

You cry out, your voice ragged, as the overwhelming heat courses through you, your body surrendering completely to the climax ripping through you. Your muscles tense, thighs quivering as waves of pleasure crash over you, relentless and consuming. But you don’t stop—your hips continue their rhythm, meeting his every thrust, determined to draw every last ounce of his pleasure, to claim everything he has to give.

Your walls flutter and tighten around Sihtric’s cock, silently begging him to fill you, pulling him deeper and deeper. “Sihtric, please,” you whisper. “Give it to me,” you beg.

Your plea shatters whatever restraint he has left. His cock twitches inside you, and with a hoarse groan, he thrusts up into you, his release surging in hot, endless waves. He spills deep within you, his seed filling you in long, heated spurts that seem to last forever. His breathless moans blend with your own as he empties himself completely, his body trembling beneath yours.

Panting, you collapse against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tightly against this chest.

“Gods, I love you,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble, his lips brushing against your hair. “My wife, my goddess,” he groans. “You can’t even imagine how much I’ve missed you.”

A tired but contented smile tugs at your lips. Threading your fingers through his damp hair, you whisper, “I’ve missed you too.” Your voice is low, a tender echo of his confession. But mischief flickers in your eyes as you add, “And don’t think we’re done, Sihtric Kjartansson. Mark my words, you’re not leaving this bed until you’ve put a pup in me.”

His body stills beneath you, your words sinking in like a spark igniting dry tinder. His breath catches, and then, with a low, dangerous growl, he shifts. In one smooth motion, he rolls you onto your back, his strong frame towering over you, every inch of him radiating purpose. His lips crash against yours, the kiss searing and demanding, rekindling the fire in your veins.

“Then we won’t stop,” he whispers against your lips, his voice a gravelly promise that sends a shiver racing down your spine. “Not until you’re mine in every way.”

His hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers slipping through the wet, heated mess of his release mingled with your own. He teases you with a skillful touch, stroking and circling until your body arches against him, trembling with renewed need. You moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders as his touch brings you closer and closer to the brink once more.

“I’ll fill you again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low and commanding. “Again and again, until you can’t take it anymore. Until you cry tears of pleasure and beg me to stop.”

His hips shift, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing, testing. His mismatched eyes burn into yours, as he continues, “Until you’re carrying my child. Until there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that you’re mine.”

Your breath catches as he pushes into you once more, slow and deliberate, savouring the way your body stretches to take him. You clutch at him, helpless under the spell of his touch. 

His movements are languid, tender, but there's an underlying urgency in the way his eyes never leave yours, as if he's memorising every gasp, every flutter of your lashes, every soft whimper that escapes your lips.

"Sihtric," you breathe, your hands grasping at him, pulling him closer. "Don't stop."

He doesn't. He moves with purpose, his thrusts deep and steady, his lips tracing a path down your neck, across your collarbone, marking you as his own with every press of his mouth against your skin. His hands roam your body, worshipping every inch, every curve, until you're nothing more than a whimpering, gasping mess beneath him.

Sihtric fastens his pace, his hips snapping against yours. “Tell me how much you missed me?” he demands. 

“More than anything,” you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper, words trembling as his relentless pace robs you of breath. “I dreamed of you every night, Sihtric. I ached for you.”

“And there was nobody else?” the question slips his lips almost unintentionally, and he regrets it the very same moment. His movements falter, his forehead pressing against yours as a shadow crosses his expression. He wants to take it back, but he can’t. It’s out there. It lingers in the air, heavy with the weight of his fears. Is he enough for you?

All those sleepless nights on the road, lying awake on cold, hard ground, the stars above offering no comfort, the ache in his chest had been constant, gnawing at him with every mile that stretched between you, imagining you sitting by the fire alone, your beautiful face lit by the flickering flames, but your eyes filled with sadness. 

There were moments when he couldn't stop his mind from whispering cruel things. What if she’s had enough of waiting? What if she finds someone else—someone who’s there, who can hold her every night and promise her a life he could only dream of giving?

You cup his face in your trembling hands, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “No one else,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “It’s always been you, Sihtric. Only you.”

His voice trembles, words spilling out in a rush, breath hitching. “I was afraid you’d wake up one day and realise I'm not the man you needed. That you’d stop loving me because I wasn’t here for you, because I wasn’t enough.”

You shake your head. “Sihtric,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes. “You’ve always been enough for me. More than enough. Every night I waited, every tear I cried, every time I missed you—it wasn’t because I wanted someone else. It was because I wanted you. Only you.”

Your words drive him wild. A guttural growl escapes his lips as his hands grip your thighs, pulling you even closer, deeper, until it feels like there’s no part of you he hasn’t claimed. His lips crash against yours again and again, devouring your moans, his kisses searing and desperate, as though he’s trying to pour all of his longing, all of his love and gratitude into you.

“You don’t know what that means to me,” he murmurs. “You... you’re everything to me,” he rasps against your lips, his breath hot, his mismatched eyes blazing with raw need. “I want you to remember this, always. How much I’ve missed you, how much I need you.”

“Show me, Sihtric,” you whisper back, your voice fading into soft moans of pleasure. “Show me how much.”

And he does. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word speaks of his love, his devotion, his desperation to be enough for you. 

You shudder beneath him, your hands clawing at his back, feeling the ripple of his muscles with every forceful thrust. His name falls from your lips again and again, a mantra, a prayer, as he drives you closer to the edge. His touch is everywhere—his hands gripping, caressing; his lips trailing down your neck, sucking and biting gently to leave his mark; his body pressing into yours with unrelenting force.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, the words vibrating against your skin. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you manage to choke out. “Always, Sihtric. Only yours.”

The sound he makes is primal, filled with satisfaction and something deeper—something possessive, protective, and utterly devoted. His movements grow erratic, the rhythm faltering as he loses himself in you, his hands clutching at you as though letting go would shatter him.

“Come for me,” he growls, his voice rough, his gaze locked on yours as he drives into you. “Let me feel you.”

Sihtric’s words are your undoing, the command tipping you over the edge. You cry out his name as pleasure crashes through you, your body trembling, clenching around him as waves of ecstasy wash over you. 

His own release follows, his body shuddering above you as he spills into you once more with a low, broken moan, burying himself as deep as he can.

Sihtric collapses near you, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps. For a while, the two of you lay there, tangled in each other. Your breaths are heavy and mingled, your bodies still thrumming with the echo of your highs.

Finally, Sihtric lifts his head, his lips curving into a lazy, satisfied grin as he gazes down at you. "I think I could get used to this," he says, his voice soft but teasing.

You laugh, breathless and exhausted, but utterly content. "Good," you reply, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "Because you're not going anywhere."

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his hand splayed possessively across your belly. "Not until I've given you everything I've promised."

[coolshadowtwins]

PT 1

PT 3

“This disciple greets his Shizun-“ Luo Binghe began, surrounded by a gaggle of Huan Hua Palace disciples, all glaring, before trailing off in confusion. “…there’s two of you.”

“What an observation.” Shen Qingqiu said with a scowl. He looked Luo Binghe over, before looking away with a huff. “Still the same, I see.”

“Don’t talk about Luo-Shixiong that way-“ One of the disciples behind Luo Binghe snapped, only to be cut off.

“Now now!” Shen Yuan cut in, stepping between Shen Qingqiu and everyone else. He had spent this long trying to fix Shen Qingqiu’s reputation, and it was like dragging a feral cat, kicking and screaming.

Having made up with Yue Qingyuan helped. A little.

“There is no need for this hostility.” He continued, lightly waving his fan. “We’re all here to fix the plague that has descended here, are we not?”

“…there’s two of you.” Luo Binghe said again, eyes wide as he looked back and forth. Shen Yuan paused, confused, before continuing.

“Yes. I’m Shen Yuan, his brother. …And the one that has been acting as Shen Qingqiu for the past few years, while my brother was in seclusion.”

“There’s two of you.” Luo Binghe said a third time, eyes starting to shine. Shen Qingqiu blinked, before making a face and turning away.

“I am not dealing with this.” He snapped as he walked, robes flowing. “You deal with your disciple.”

“Oh, well, uh,” Shen Yuan stammered, losing his ‘Peak Lord Composure’ for a moment, without Shen Qingqiu’s natural bitch face. “Of course this Shizun greets his disciple-“

“I can still be your disciple?” Luo Binghe asked, excitedly. Shen Yuan could almost see his tail wagging. A disciple behind him started to argue, only to be shushed as Luo Binghe held up a hand. “Be quiet for a moment. Shizun is speaking.”

“Binghe!” Shen Yuan snapped, without thinking about it. “Don’t be rude!”

“I’m sorry Shizun!” Binghe said, not sorry at all. A different disciple scowled.

“Shen Qingqiu did something to Luo-Shixiong-“

“Nothing has been done to Binghe-“

“I told you to stop talking-“

“Don’t speak to Master Shen that way!” Gongyi Xiao spoke up at last, scolding his fellow disciples. “Show him some respect!”

Shen Yuan sighed as he saw the dark aura starting to form over Binghe. Well, on one hand, he was afraid of dying violently, but one the other, there was only one thing he could do here.

—————-

“What did you do.” Mu Qingfang asked, deadpan, as he finally looked up from his workstation. Shen Yuan laughed nervously, holding up a marked hand.

“I might have gotten infected?”

“Shen-Shixiong.” He said, exhausted. “I’ll get to that. I was referring to the man behind you.”

“Oh.” Shen Yuan glanced behind him. Binghe was sitting at a table, staring down Shen Qingqiu, who was glaring at him darkly. “It’s my old disciple. He’s not dead after all.”

“That’s a demon.” Liu Qingge said, eyes narrowed.

“No, that’s my disciple. Jeez, Liu-Shidi, I know children can be heathens but to call them demons? No wonder you don’t have any-“

“He has a mark on his forehead!” Liu Qingge snapped.

“A tattoo. Quite the rebellious phase, really.”

Mu Qingfang sighed, and then went back to work.

[livingbirch]

I live in a small town and compliments on my mjölnir pendant always leave me curious and slightly afraid. Are you another hidden heathen in our little town? A white supremacist? A marvel fan? "Oh I have a tattoo of that!" So do I sir, but why did you get yours?

[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

modern au a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: MDNI, NSFW, swearing, use of "princess", "she/her" pronouns used, mentions of OG story, appearance of other characters, SMUT SMUT SMUT, p in v, creampie, unprotected, Sukuna is a changed man afterwards (but really?) A/N: the time has COME my friends (heh, pun). so sorry it took me forever to post, the holidays have been insane with travel, and I was soaking up every second with my long-distance BF. someone in the OG storyline had commented that Sukuna needed someone to match his freak... well, they were right. (• ᴗ -)

index part four | part six

part five word count : 4,588

every day since your first kiss with him, without fail, Sukuna appeared parked out front of your work waiting for you. you weren’t sure if the satisfaction you felt was from seeing him leaned against his bike, or if it was the reactions of the dickwads you worked with.

“are you sure that’s safe?”

“does he have a motorcycle license?”

“what’s up with all that ink?”

you just brushed them off, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you practically skipped over to your mysterious tattooed man before receiving a warm welcome in the form of a deep kiss on the lips. to make it worse for your coworkers, they definitely saw Sukuna slip his tongue in your mouth as he side-eyed them.

bunch of heathens, he thought to himself. he knew the comments they made behind your back, the peaks they took at your ass, even could guess that they thought of you when they had nothing but their hand to give them comfort. pathetic.

and yet, he’d made no move to take things further than a few heavy make out sessions. maybe he was the pathetic one.

but all that would be put to the test tonight.

“a party?” you asked, twirling the straw in your glass around and around while Sukuna smirked at you. of course, had taken you to your usual bar to treat you after work - just like he did almost every day.

“my brother asked me to come, said I was required to bring a guest.” Sukuna was only partly lying – Yuji had asked him to come but never mentioned anything about bringing someone. but he knew you’d be just fine.

“I don’t know, aren’t we a little… old to be going?” you teased lightly but truthfully, you’d already accepted the invitation in your mind. “bunch of college kids, drinking and dicking around?”

Sukuna’s shoulder shook with a booming laugh. “if there’s no dicking around, then it’s not a party, princess.”

you couldn’t help but pout as the thought of who would be there crossed your mind. did you dare ask him? risk bringing up a sore subject?

he’d told you about what happened last summer, one night when you both had a few too many glasses of wine. Sukuna swore that wine was his truth serum. so now you knew that his former – lover, ex girlfriend, fling? – was dating his half brother Choso.

curiosity gnawed at your bones. was she pretty? hot? drop dead fucking gorgeous? how did you compare?

a light tap of Sukuna’s finger to your temple snapped your from your anxiety spiral. “what’s going through your mind?” he asked softer than usual, the change in his demeanor catching you off guard.

no, you couldn’t let yourself drown in what-ifs. “let’s do it. I owe you one.” you told him with finality, face set in determination as you downed the rest of your drink in one go before standing from your seat and pulling your jacket on.

Sukuna was curious why your attitude towards the idea suddenly changed; you were dead quiet for a minute, brows furrowed and already thinking of something he would have loved to correct you on. most certainly about how you’d fit in. and yet you stood with confidence now, lips in a tight line and eyes locking with his.

god, he wanted to kiss you until he couldn’t breathe.

“owe me for what, princess?” Sukuna smiled at you, sharp canines flashing in doing so.

“for putting on a damn good show in front of my ex. it’s time I return the favor.”

oh.

-

this was a mistake. a big fat fucking mistake and you didn’t realize it until you were walking up to the front door with Sukuna. you fidgeted with your skirt, smoothed your hair, tried to make yourself at least look like you hadn’t just let Sukuna tongue fuck your mouth in the car just moments ago.

would anyone be able to tell that you were sexually frustrated and as tense as a stretched rubber band? god you should have told him to knock it off but you just couldn’t help it.

Sukuna knocked three times, alerting Yuji to his presence before opening the door ahead of any answer. this used to be his home, after all. before everyone and their mother decided to come and dry hump on the couch every night.

he’d seen Choso’s lights on as you both walked up, and he was sure that she’d be here - and he silently hoped that wouldn’t scare you away.

“hey, Sukuna’s here everybody!” you heard someone shout, followed by a few grumbles of fake enthusiasm. did everyone really look down on him that much?

his brother Yuji, or you assumed by the matching head of pink fluffy hair, practically bounded over and wrapped his arms around Sukuna. “I’m so glad you made it!” Yuji exclaimed with a wide, toothy grin.

“yeah, yeah, like you would’ve noticed my absence.” Sukuna teased before turning the tables on Yuji and enclosing an arm around his brother’s throat to roughly rub his knuckles across Yuji’s scalp. “don’t make a big deal okay? I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

it was until then that Yuji noticed you, standing slightly behind Sukuna and smiling at the display - honestly surprised to see that side of Sukuna. “hi, I hope you don’t mind that I tagged along.” you bowed your head slightly, but a quick elbow from Sukuna had you straightening up.

“don’t do that, you don’t have to.” he corrected you with a smirk, and Yuji was having none of it.

your hands were quickly enclosed in his, and he bounced up and down with enthusiasm. “guys, Sukuna brought a girl with him!” Yuji yelled out behind him as he suddenly wrapped you in a hug too.

Sukuna rolled his eyes as he watched his little brother almost squeeze the life out of you. he half expected you to shrug it off, or push him away, but you were beaming. a grin stretched across your face and he felt his heart race wildly at the sight.

“woah, really? what, did you kidnap her or something?” a red-haired girl rushed around the corner, but when she saw you her jaw dropped. “holy fucking shit, she’s gorgeous!”

“that’s Nobara Kugisake, please ignore her for your own mental sanity.” Sukuna grumbled out an introduction, earning a sharp glare from Nobara before she also wrapped you up in a hug - joining Yuji seeing as he hadn’t even let go yet.

you were soon introduced to Megumi Fushiguro, Toge Inumaki, Yuta Okkotsu, and Maki Zenin. the only one out of four who showed an ounce of enthusiam was Inumaki, who extended his hand for you to shake.

you couldn’t help but wonder where -

“who’s your friend, Sukuna?” you turned at the voice, eyes catching on his other brother Choso standing at the bottom of the stairs, and then -

fucking hell. she was beautiful. like, “doesn’t have to try” beautiful.

and you were very, very aware of her eyes scanning over you, lips parted slightly in what looked to be surprise as she noted your presence. more specifically, Sukuna’s hand enclosed in yours.

Sukuna was quick to make introductions, not wanting to dwell on the fact that he had noticed how your demeanor shifted suddenly. he knew why, and he’d make sure to discuss it later, but for now he focused on wrapping an arm around your waist and keeping you at his side.

he didn’t want you to draw comparisons, but he could tell you were already doing so. your eyes followed her almost every where before you’d look down at your outfit, comb your fingers through your hair, or adjusted your posture.

to Sukuna, there was no fucking comparison. you were his and she was not.

but you couldn’t help it. you had wanted to know how - how had this one girl once had both Sukuna and Choso wrapped around her finger? and now after looking at her you knew. and you hated that she wasn’t hideous or bitchy. hated that you had yet to find anything negative about her.

the night dragged on, and so did your swirl of negative thoughts. Yuji was amazing, and Sukuna had been right that you two would get along. Choso was even very sweet, although still side eyeing Sukuna on occasion as if you couldn’t see.

once everyone was good and drunk, and things took a turn for the crazier side of a party, you were mentally checked out. Sukuna watched as you started to stare off into the distance, blinking a little too long and yawning into your elbow. you were getting sleepy, he knew it because you always looked the cutest when you were half awake.

“I think it’s time I get her back home. right, princess?” Sukuna pulled you closer to his side as everyone bid you goodnight, Yuji making sure to express repeatedly that you were always welcome. he didn’t miss the last long look you gave her from across the room.

you almost fell asleep on the ride back to your apartment, Sukuna’s warmth radiating off of him as your arms were wrapped around his torso. did you make a good first impression? did everyone like you, or hate you?

were you as pretty as her?

Sukuna had been fully intent on walking you to your door, and dropping you off like a gentleman. but manners be damned. as soon as you turned the key, and turned to look at him with big doe eyes, he was screwed.

“am I as pretty as her?” the question slipped from your lips before you could stop it, but you couldn’t help it. you had to know, otherwise you’d go crazy wondering about it.

but Sukuna didn’t respond, which made your stomach drop as he ushered you through your door before clicking it shut behind him. you almost took the silence as your answer, until suddenly your back was pressed up against the inside of your door and Sukuna had two hands firmly planted on either side of your head.

“don’t. don’t start making comparisons to her, because there is nothing to compare.” Sukuna growled lightly, chest heaving as he tried to keep a tight leash on his resolve to kiss you until you forgot all about it. “if you’re looking for something to set yourself apart - you’re mine. she’s not, and that’s that.”

“but-”

“no buts.” you were making it increasingly more difficult for him to control himself. what must he do to prove it to you? to chase away your negative thoughts and show you that you are the one he wants, exes and hookups be damned.

when you looked up at him again, he had one tiny, tiny shred left.

“then show me I’m yours.”

you were expecting him to laugh it off, to tell you that you were too tired or that he was going to be a gentleman. you were sick of that - fuck being a gentleman, you wanted him to fuck you.

but no, Sukuna took it as a challenge.

his lips crashed into yours, rough and unrestrained as his body pressed into you fervently. you tasted sweet, all he could think about as soon as he kissed you was how sweet you tasted and how he craved more. it made him wonder if you tasted just as sweet every where else.

the notion led him to start trailing rough kisses down your cheek, your jaw, onto your neck. peppered kisses mixed with nips of his teeth against your skin and you were already feeling hot. so fucking hot that it made you wonder what you’d set your thermostat to before you left.

you were so ablaze that you decided you needed your clothes off - now.

you started to lean into Sukuna, more and more until he started backing into your apartment with you in his arms, not allowing himself to breath and stuffing his face into your neck. he didn’t want to move or stop what he was doing, not until he was thoroughly drunk on your scent.

he backed up until he hit your bedroom door, reaching behind himself with one hand to open it and pull you inside with him. Sukuna’s lips returned to yours, nipping and tugging roughly at your bottom lip, causing you to moan out of your parted lips. he made note of how much he loved that sound, deciding to make sure he heard it throughout the night.

both of you tumbled back onto your bedspread, with Sukuna pinned under your body as you returned his needy kisses ten fold. he was warm and rough and sturdy and you ached for every bit of it. you went to bite his lip back, barely missing and catching his cheek again and his hips jolted in response.

Sukuna felt like a wild animal, and you seemingly matched his energy with your roaming hands and rough gentle teeth. if he knew how much you loved to bite he would have done this a hell of a lot sooner.

as your hands reached between your bodies and fumbled with his belt, Sukuna’s sank his canines into the exposed skin right between your neck and shoulder and hauled. hauled you to the side and rolled until you were firmly planted beneath him now, turning the tables.

he had to remind himself of where he was, who he was with, and what he intended to do with you. with permission.

“do you want to?” Sukuna’s voice came out broken and rough from lack of air due to your addictive kiss. his eyes scanned your face for any ounce of hesitation, but all he could find was your eyes half open as you smirked up at him.

“oh for fuck’s sake, I want you.” you murmured to answer him, reaching a hand up to rest on his cheek and smile at him.

and he melted on the spot. your warm touch, your smile, everything you were taking and giving right back to him made his heart thump wildly in his chest. if he didn’t know any better he thought you might be able to hear his pulse racing in the silence.

he didn’t let himself hesitate before his lips were on your skin again, now more gentle as he worked over your neck and jaw line. “tell me what you want. or don’t want.” Sukuna bit out that last part, trying desperately to remember how much progress he’d made in his journey to becoming a better man.

but dammit was it hard to be better right now when all he wanted to do was shove your face in the mattress and make you take his cock deep.

you hummed out soft praises as he worked his way down to your top, helping you rise and pull it over your shoulders, and soon after your pants followed to be discarded somewhere on the floor.

“how come I’m the first one that had to strip, and you’re still fully dressed?” you teased as you nipped at his exposed neck, pressing your tongue flat to lick a small stripe up the tattoo lining his shoulder.

Sukuna wanted to fire back, argue and tease until your cheeks were heated, but not right now. no, he made quick work of his own clothing, until the both of you were down to only your underwear.

and my oh my was Sukuna in nothing but boxers a sight to behold. you couldn’t help but ogle the growing mass straining in his underwear, twitching already as if it was begging to be freed.

“I knew it.” you gave him a smug grin as you stared right at his covered cock. “I knew you were big.”

Sukuna laughed, your blunt honesty taking him off guard but finding it hilarious nonetheless. “so, you’ve been thinking ‘bout my dick, have you?” he quipped before quickly smashing his lips to yours to halt any further remarks from your mouth. “how’d you like to see the real thing, princess?”

you nodded eagerly, hands already reaching for the waistband of his boxers and gulping as you felt him twitch at your touch. just by looking at it, even covered by fabric, you wondered if you’d be able to take it. would he even fucking fit?

your question was validated as soon as you slipped his boxers down past his knees and his cock was released.

the tip was already glistening with leaking pre-cum, his veins so prominent that your mouth went dry, and the thickness… god you really would be struggling to take him all in.

“your turn.” Sukuna grinned wickedly as he watched you stare at his cock. he could see the way you gulped at the sight, no doubt wracking your brain for an explanation of just how he could fit inside of you. “let me see you, pretty girl.”

his fingers danced along your panty line, feather-light touches sending chills up your spine as his knuckles brushed over your core.

“so wet already, hm?” he cooed as he let his middle knuckle press into your clit through the cloth. your back arched at the touch, and he sucked in a breath as he watched your mouth fall open from the littlest amount of pleasure.

without wasting any more time, he pulled your panties past you knees and off of your ankles - tossing them in his pile of clothes instead of yours. he’d be saving those for later, of course.

Sukuna had never felt himself go breathless at the sight of someone naked before. but now, every touch he gave and every noise from your lips had him shaking with anticipation.

you felt one of his fingers run through your wet folds, a groan escaping his lips at the feeling. “don’t be a tease.” you whined as you tried to scoot your hips into his touch. one of his hands firmly planted itself on your waist, pinning you in place to halt your desperate movements.

“just trying to get you ready, princess.” Sukuna explained before circling your clit, causing you to suck in a breath and grip the sheets a little tighter between your palms. “you said it yourself, it’s pretty big.

but you were impatient. you needed him right fucking now. “don’t care, I can take it.”

you can’t take it, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“don’t wanna hurt you.” Sukuna was trying so hard to be gentle, to fuck you the way you deserved but goddamn were you starting to make him crazy.

you looked him in the eye, pupils blown out with lust already, and smirked. “what are you, scared?” you teased, hoping that it would elicit the exact response you wanted.

and oh it did. he snapped, immediately pushing your legs up and back so that you knees met your chest to fold you up. Sukuna loved that you were smaller than him, pliable, easy to move around as he saw fit. if you were going to act like a brat then you could take it like a brat.

you moan at the first nudge of his tip in your entrance, his pre-cum mixing with your arousal as he teased so deliciously at your hole. he was baiting you to say something more. to talk back so that he could fuck the attitude out of you.

“you wanna rethink your cockiness now, sweet girl?” he bit out the words as he restrained himself from sheathing his cock to the hilt in one go. fuck he wanted to bury himself within you and watch as you fell apart. “I can feel your tight cunt already startin’ to stretch.”

it was a divine mixture of pain and pleasure to feel him slowly ease in, the tip of his dick now pushing past the first ring and sliding into your cunt. but it wasn’t enough for you.

“more, pl - please, give me more.” you groaned while reaching up to claw at his pecs. “just - ah - fuck me already dammit.”

“if you say so.” a grin spread across Sukuna’s face before he jolted his hips forward, bullying past your tight walls as fast as you could physically allow him until he was firmly planted deep inside of you.

you cried out, borderline screamed, at the stretch and burn of his huge dick molding you to his desire. oh it was so so good. you had never felt anything like it - you felt completely stuffed.

Sukuna but his lip so hard that he tasted copper as your walls clenched around him. “fuck you’re so - ngh - tight princess.” he pressed a hand across your abdomen, finding that sweet spot where he could feel his tip under your skin, almost buried within your cervix, or even past that. “takin’ me so well, feel s’ good.”

“holy shit, holy fucking shit.” a whine escaped you when you sucked in a breath. you dared to open your eyes from being clenched to see Sukuna hovering above you, completely still as if he couldn’t risk making another move.

and sure enough, his hand lifted to rest on your cheek, eyes boring into yours as he searched your expression. “you okay?” Sukuna bit out, resisting the urge to move his hips even the slightest.

“s’ good, Sukuna. ‘m okay.”

he watched as the tension left your body and your gaze softened as you looked at him. with your cheeks already flushed, Sukuna thought he was the luckiest guy in the world to see you like this. “Ryomen. if I’m inside you, start calling me Ryomen.” he blurted before he could stop himself. not that he regretted it.

the corners of your mouth turned up, and if your heart wasn’t already racing it sure was now. “now, can we continue, Ryo?”

he was so fucking screwed.

“anything for you, princess.”

and so were you.

literally.

one roll of Sukuna’s hips, even slight, had you clawing at his shoulders. you felt like you were floating and being suffocated all at once, and he fared no better. he didn’t know it could feel like this, like it was… well, he didn’t know what, but it was fucking better than anything else.

his head dipped into your shoulder, sinking his teeth into your skin and groaning into the bite. you swear you felt full body chills as his hands continued to roam your body as his cock destroyed your cunt.

with each gentle thrust, Sukuna became more and more confident with your responses, and started to pick up his pace with ferocity. honestly, if he didn’t, he was going cum sooner than you and he couldn’t have that. “god, you feel s’ fucking good. can’t believe we haven’t done this sooner.” he cursed under his breath at one particularly brutal thrust that had your walls clenching around him even more than they already were.

“well – shit – you had to earn it.” even in your messed up state you stilled toyed with him, watching as he smirked back at your attitude before reaching a hand down between the two of your bodies. his fingers brushed against your clit, feather light and teasing, but it still sent shockwaves through you. “ah don’t be a fucking tease, Ryo. I’m sure you know better – fuck!”

a harsh pinch to the clit had you shutting your mouth, or at least moaning so loud it interrupted your sarcasm, and Sukuna grinned devilishly. “what were y’ sayin’?” he chided as he pinched the sensitive nub again, delighted to watch as your body heaved in reaction.

“fuck, ‘m sorry, just don’t stop!” your nails dug into the muscle of his bicep, desperately trying to keep it pinned in place so that he would continue to work his magic with his hand. “please, please keep going!”

Sukuna obliged, now circling your clit as his cock shoved harder inside of you – in out in out – at an almost inhuman pace. his hand gripped your hip so tightly you were sure there would be bruises from where he tried to keep you still while he fucked you senseless. you were so beautiful to look at that Sukuna couldn’t look way, eyes screwed shut and mouth wide open to release your honeyed moans, cunt sucking him in with each thrust.

when he felt your walls pulse and tighten, he knew you were close. and he prided himself in the knowledge that it was him getting you there. “you gonna cum, princess? all over my dick?” as you nodded fervently, he swept in and crashed his lips to yours, slipping his tongue inside your mouth and swallowing your moans as your release came crashing over you.

your cunt became like a vice, squeezing him to death as your body spasmed beneath him. the tightly wound band inside Sukuna’s abdomen was holding on by a single string, but he pulled away to watch you come undone.

“Ryo, please, want y’ to fill me up.” and fuck if he was going to argue with you. Sukuna slid both arms behind your back, wrapping around you to hold you still while his hips thrusted even harsher and faster than before, chasing his own high.

“say my name, princess. I’m gonna – ah shit – gonna cum. wanna cum inside this perfect pussy.” Sukuna was babbling at this point, and if he had any sense he’d hate himself for it but with a cunt this warm and good he couldn’t stop.

“fuck, Ryo!” you scratched your nails down his back harshly, pushing him off the edge. he let out a low, guttural groan as you felt him twitch inside of you, before you felt the warmth of his cum coating your walls and spilling out of you with the force of it.

once his balls started to ache, Sukuna pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to you. “holy shit.” he panted, wiping the sweat from his forehead and pushing his hair back. “that was –”

“– fucking phenomenal.” you finished for him, a cheesy grin spreading across your face as you started to chuckle. “hell, I think you enjoyed yourself more than me.”

“did not.” Sukuna growled lightly but you didn’t miss the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

“did too. gonna have you pussy whipped now, right?”

you were only teasing, but when he glanced your way, his pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked nearly black. he gave your shoulder a playful shove, a loud laugh spilling from his lips. “maybe,” he said with a grin, “just maybe.”

you’d count that as a win.

before you could fire back another quip, Sukuna slid an arm around your waist, tugging you closer in one smooth motion.

“c’mere,” he murmured, the warmth in his voice betraying how much he enjoyed seeing you flustered.

his free hand guided you until you were nestled comfortably against him, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of calm. it felt surprisingly natural—his larger frame, the solid press of his body, and the low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through you when he realized you weren’t resisting.

“just maybe, huh?” you teased again, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

he let out a soft snort, tightening his hold as if you might slip away. “shut up,” he grumbled good-naturedly, but the way his hand splayed against your back was anything but irritated.

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist : @mangiswig @sorahatake @osohchoso @clp-84 @sterzin @csolya @emochosoluvr @aldebrana @ravester @marie-is-in-the-dark @makingtimemine . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .