#most are fics I won't ever write | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

musical-chick-13 · 4 months ago

Text

Wow, area woman complains about Weird Cultural Judgment Around How People Approach Sex In Fiction again. I'm sure everyone is tired of this! Not least of all me!! But here we are anyway!!!!!

Minors do not interact with this post, I mean it.

I am BEGGING y'all to just let the rest of us live. Lmao.

(I mean, maybe these people would tell me my kink negotiation dialogue sounds natural, and not BDSM-manual-esque, but I doubt it. Most people who say things like this think it's bad if you include any sort of discussion or safe sex practices at all.)

How many times do I have to reiterate that it is fun for some people to figure out what individual characters' boundaries are and how characters would communicate in a given situation. How many times do I have to reiterate that the point is not always to be "hot."

No offense, but I'm here to examine a fictional relationship I find interesting, I do not fucking care whether you find my writing "hot" or not. The kink directly interacts with trauma--notably not a very appealing topic! It's also a way of digging into one of the character's guilt in a heightened way that I might not have been able to otherwise. This kink negotiation is not supposed to be hot, that is so incredibly far from the intention here. I actually, no joke, considered not even making this story explicit and skipping the sex scene. That is how significant the other moving parts in this thing are.

Also, I think we just need to get used to the fact that sex is not always going to be an Amazing Experience™. Sometimes it just...is. It exists. Sometimes it's awkward or silly or weird or unsatisfying or underwhelming or unexpectedly overwhelming or any number of things that aren't an idealized version of this. Not that there's anything wrong with writing idealized sex!! But we hardly have. Any examples. Of a sex scene being mediocre or unsatisfying or strange/off-the-wall without those things being seen as some kind of moral or personal judgment. We need ways to make that evident. Again, we are still putting sex on a pedestal, even if the reasons for doing it are different than the usual purity-obsession fare. And I think that elevation is unhelpful at best.

I'm sorry to break it to y'all (I'm not), but being "good at sex" is not the holy grail of skills or the sole universal key to happiness. There's no way to universally be "good at sex" anyway because every person is different. And different people have. Different preferences. And you know how you discover those preferences so everyone involved has a good time?

You fucking communicate.

Yes, I know that people get caught up in presenting the sex in their stories as The Good Kind That's Acceptable and Right™ (and thus sometimes awkwardly shoehorning in things that haven't been set up by the story or beating you over the head with the fact that I'm Not Problematic I Swear), but for the love of our collective remaining braincells, use some nuance here. Not everything is meant to be titillating! Characters talking about shit is usually meant to tell you something about who they are!!! If you aren't interested in that, there's plenty of erotica out there for you to read, you really can just go find something else.

Also, lmao, the idea of an After School Special about. CNC. A hard kink that's an offshoot of BDSM. Please do not make After School Specials about this.

And, absolutely, yeah, it's nice if someone finds your explicit material appealing, I'm not going to say that those comments are meaningless or give no kind of affirmation at all, or that they're not really nice surprises to find in my inbox. But JESUS FUCKING CHRIST am I tired of this idea that something is meaningless if it's not ✨sexy.✨ You get told you're worthless and inherently unlikable because you're not conventionally attractive, you get told you'll be alone for the rest of your life with no support if you can't "offer" some sort of physical prettiness, you get told (if you were in the entertainment industry like I used to be) that you'll never get a stable job if you don't meet some standard of societally-approved "hotness", like we really do not need to be putting this much stock in how ✨sexy✨ or titillating something is.

With all due respect. If you can't find an example of niche erotica that you like. You are not going to die. That's a relatively minor (if frustrating) inconvenience. Use your imagination. Or write something yourself. If you don't find a story "hot" then just. Get over it? It'll be okay, you won't disintegrate.

If it's not the creator's job to reflect reality (which I agree, it's not), then it's not the creator's job to cater to what you or anybody else or general society (or any subsection of it) wants. I don't know what it's going to take to get it through everyone's heads that artists making general art for public viewing don't actually owe you anything!

I'm also thinking about that one post I saw that said, "If characters are literally in the middle of sex, don't ever have one of them ask for consent clarification again, it's a mood-killer." But, again, this axiom assumes that the point of a sex scene is always to be "hot." Randomly asking for consent at a "non-sexy" point can in and of itself be a characterization choice. For example, if one of the people involved was at some point an assault victim, they might be oversensitive to the other person's boundaries and want to make sure (at inopportune times, because surprise, surprise, people do things that aren't perfect sometimes) that they aren't somehow doing to someone else what was done to them. There are certain types of OCD that fixate specifically on being a predator or other kind of danger in a sexual context, and I could absolutely see a character with this type of OCD doing this extra clarification of consent as a compulsion. If someone is unlearning shame from an unhealthy church background, it could come out as a nervous outburst. All of these are things I came up with off the top of my head that might justify a character acting this way, I just don't think absolutes in writing advice are helpful!!!

Genuinely what are you hoping to accomplish here!!!!!!!!!

Idk. Not reading things you don't like is free. Being nice to people and giving them a minuscule degree of grace is also free. I'm tired.

#mel's petty era #tw: assault mention #tw: cnc #minors dni #minors do not interact #mdni #nsft #honestly I wonder how much of this is tied to the fact that writing fic (and writing romance in general) is seen as a 'woman thing'#and then you add in the fact that so many people seem to value women solely based on their appearance or perceived sexuality.............#I really don't want to cry misogyny about everything but. you know. it sure looks like a possibility!#also the person they sent these asks to was. well remember a while back I said I had a grudge against a specific popular user on this site?#.........yeah. (<-not for the above-listed reasons. for Bad Takes On Misogyny and Racism reasons.)#honestly this might actually be the most overtly-salty thing I've ever posted but I don't think I care people are #driving me up the wall lmao #also I am scheduling this post for a time I will not be available so if you want to come yell at me about it I won't be here <3

1 note · View note

kyowritesstuff · 9 months ago

Text

Goldencast - Harry Potter Si-Oc

Being a Hogwarts student is fun.

In theory.

In actuality, having to relive your childhood as someone that you’re not, in a country you have no loyalty for, and with a war fast approaching, is certainly upsetting.

…more than a little upsetting.

Four Hogwarts students decide they’re not going to fall to the war, and in spite of all the prejudices that rule Britain, they decide to do it together.

Now if only they figured out they’re not the only real person in the group...

PROLOGUE

Sky Clarksong boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than she actually is.

Her not-parents – Michael Clarksong and Emma Smith, both Muggles – wait patiently on the platform while she searches for an empty compartment. She finds one near the end of the train, and hurrying as to not obstruct people on the corridor, she finally settles inside. Lait, her recently adopted cat, rises her head curiously for a second before accommodating inside of her cage, dozing off with a purr.

With a quiet sight, Sky sits next to the window and searches for her parents. Their house is just a few blocks from King’s Cross, and so there was no rush to arrive early to platform nine and three-quarters. In fact, Sky can still taste her morning coffee with milk at the back of her throat, a sweet, caramel aftertaste that’s sure to last till she reaches school.

Humming pleasantly, she waves to her mom when their eyes meet, and lets out a well-practiced chuckle when she instantly smacks her dad in the face to let him know where she is. Getting comfortable on her seat, she takes out her wand – Hazel, dragon heartstring, nine inches, swishy – and, her fingers gliding across its markings, visualizes in her mind’s eye two simple words.

[Magical Prodigy.]

That was Sky’s pick from the list of magical skills. She’s supposedly naturally gifted with magic, because of it. It came with a small cost – being naturally slow in learning subjects non related to magic. As she was almost done with high school at the time, the risk seemed worth it.

Now thirty years into the past, she’s more than assured in her choices.

She has to admit, though, that the sudden change in era and country has left her quite disarmed. First time she saw her parents, she almost forgot how to speak. And don’t get her started on school. History quickly became her least favorite subject, despite having loved it in her previous life. She tried to find solace in Literature, but that was just another disappointment. None of the authors she knew existed in this world, and if they did, they hadn’t written their books yet.

Sad, yes. But all Sky has to do to read proper stories again, i.e. fanfiction, i.e. ao3, is survive the war. Whatever comes after that, she should be able to deal with appropriately.

Or so she hopes.

…that’s why she picked the Magical Prodigy skill, she allows herself to admit, internally. Magic will leave her enthralled, she knows, and the thought of being able to perform it impeccably was a much needed comfort when she woke up in the White Void. But in reality, it’s not to entertain herself. It’s a net. A safety net. If all else fails, either during the war or after it, she’ll always have her magic to fall back on.

She’ll live past her teenage years, that’s one thing she’s sure of. But the way she’ll live, in this wonderful, terrifying, magical new world, that’s what she’s afraid of. What will she work as? Towards what goal? Will she live in a magical neighborhood, or will she try to live in Muggle Britain hiding her magic? Will her new, not-parents be part of her life? Will anyone else?

So many variants and terrifying maybes, and the one thing that remains true in every single one is that her future will be determined by her skill with magic.

So Sky picked the Magical Prodigy skill, and she’s gonna ace every challenge Hogwarts presents her with, so whatever happens to her after school, she can assure herself it’ll be ok. She’s in the world of Harry Potter, her true family only a memory now, but she has magic, and she’ll be ok.

Everything will be ok.

An unexpected, strong knock comes from the doors to her compartment, startling Sky out of her thoughts, and when she whips her head around, she sees…

Rook Brindlestone boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than he actually is.

Having been Apparated by one of the Brindlestone’s house elves, he’s left disoriented before one of the train’s entrances, it’s scarlet metal shining obnoxiously. Shaking his head firmly, he takes a step towards the train. The world swims around him as he does, but he powers through it and manages to get his luggage up with him with no one’s help.

Once inside, his surroundings seem to clear, and no longer dizzy, he walks straight down the corridor until the very end of the train. Most of the compartments there are empty, except for one housing a girl seemingly lost in thought while staring at her wand.

Wavy brown hair, tan skin, caramel eyes, from what he can see from behind the glass. She’s small and has no colored tie, so she’s probably a first year, like him. He doesn’t recognize her, though, and that might be a problem. When he read The Philosopher’s Stone at the wee young age of ten, he didn’t give much focus to descriptions and mostly made his own guesses on how the characters looked, save except for some key aspects such as Harry’s lightning scar or Snape’s greasy hair. So now, living in the same reality as those characters, he has next to no clue who anyone is.

That leaves two options with this girl: Either she’s a main character he heavily misinterpreted during his childhood, or she’s a side character whose only purpose is to fill up the halls.

Welp. No matter who she is, Rook needs friends. It’s not like he can’t figure out who she is, either. She’s a kid, and he’s a kid, too, so all he really needs to do is ask.

Or, you know, read her mind.

[Natural Legilimens/Occlumens.]

…ok so he’s just looking for excuses to use his Legilimens abilities, but he really needs to practice on someone who won’t immediately notice him intruding their thoughts, or else he might risk his life during the war.

…that probably doesn’t justify using his powers on an eleven-year-old, but. Still.

…has he even knocked on the door yet?

Fuck.

Regaining focus, Rook knocks on the girl’s door, although with much more force than required. He grimaces for half a second, and then the girl inside the compartment looks up from her wand and towards him, properly startled. He offers her an apologetic smile from behind the glass, and patiently waits for her to open the door. When she does…

“Um, hi.”

“Hello,” he says, voice warm. “Mind if I sit with you?”

Slowly, almost calculatingly, she nods. Rook drags his luggage inside and places it atop the overhead racks, next to a cage where a fluffy calico-looking cat sleeps. The cat opens one of its eyes. Rook blinks at it. As he does so, he introduces himself.

“I’m Rook. Rook Brindlestone. You?”

“…I’m Sky. Clarksong.”

…no, that doesn’t ring any bells. Humming, he sits across from her.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“…thanks?”

Seemingly awkward, Sky starts to fidget with her wand. Despite the clear show of discomfort, though, Rook is overwhelmed by a sudden rush of thrill. The first magical person his age he’s talking to. It might be a leftover trait from the Rook Brindlestone whose body he took over, that characteristically childish urge to befriend people of his kind, because in reality, he’s sixteen years old, not eleven. When Sky meets eyes with him again, it is that same excited thrum under his skin which guides his magic out, reaching out towards her in curiosity – and he’s immediately driven blind by a wall of white fire.

Smile sharpening, Rook blinks the sudden rush of emotions out of his system and thinks, privately, to himself: ‘What the fuck?’

“Do you want a brownie?” he says on autopilot, not quite seeing Sky anymore but bright, silver flames.

Sky blinks.

“Brownies?”

“I had my house elves bake them for me.”

“Oh.” And then, almost meekly, she says, “…are they chocolate?”

By the time his vision clears, he’s already taken his brownie-filled tupper out and offering one out to Sky. It is immediately snatched from his hand.

But not by Sky.

Both of them turn to stare at their compartment door, where they’re met by…

Amber Cedargust boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than she actually is.

Her parents gush over her with all the grace their name allows them to up until they arrive at platform nine and three-quarters, where they let her off into the train with curt nods. Amber doesn’t believe, like they do, that Pureblood families should act all prim and mighty all the time, but decides to humor her parents by bowing to them before setting down the hall, a wry smile on her lips as she does so.

She takes note of all the people she passes by: The curls of their hair, the shape of their eyes, the exact shade of their skin. Once she’s nearing the end of the hall she deduces that Harry Potter must not have yet arrived to Kings Cross, for she hasn’t seen even a hint of either his famously messy mop of hair or the ginger ones of his best friend’s family.

What she does see is the heir of the Brindlestone family, handing off a delectable looking piece of chocolate brownie to a girl she doesn’t recognize. A Muggleborn, then, and a very cute one at that. And given that Brindlestone’s talking to her, she must have some kind of charm, too.

Amber decides, right then and there, that she’s befriending both of them. As so, she approaches their compartment door, left open to the rest of the train. Without thinking, she snatches the chocolate brownie right out of Brindlestone’s hand. This causes both kids to look at her, perplexed.

…well, father did always say first impression should be memorable.

Hiding her surprise at her own actions behind a smirk, she takes a bite out of the brownie. A sweet warmth blooms inside her mouth, and so delighted she is by the taste she can’t help but let out a pleased hum.

“This,” she starts, barely resisting the urge to shove the whole treat in her mouth, “is so good.”

Brindlestone blinks at her. In his eyes there’s a spark of recognition.

“I’m glad,” he says, smiling cordially at her. “But that wasn’t for you.”

Amber merely rolls her eyes, the smile on her face smeared with chocolate. “I know that perfectly well, but I figured since we’re friends now, neither of you would mind.”

“Friends?” Asks the girl opposite Brindlestone, a small frown on her face. It is so unbelievingly childish, the way her hair curls around her tiny, round face. Amber has to resist the urge to squish her cheeks.

“Well, of course!” Amber says, fully entering the compartment and seating herself next to Brindlestone. Smile widening, she reaches a hand out towards the girl, still frowning adorably at her. “I’m Amber Cedargust, and I’m your best friend now.”

The girl blinks owlishly at her. Slowly, frown easing away into an uncertain smile, she takes her hand and shakes it.

“Sky Clarksong.”

“Rook Brindlestone,” says the boy by her side, and Amber finally has a name to one of the many heirs her parents insisted she befriend. She turns to look at the boy – Rook – and, now that she’s so close to him, notices just how pretty he is: Fluffy black hair, dark skin, and piercing, ice blue eyes. And then, of course, now that his compartment partner has approved of her, he offers Amber a disarmingly charming smile.

He’s going to grow up to be a heartbreaker, she knows.

She wonders if she can take advantage of that.

[Metamorphagus.]

“Oh, I already know of you, dear,” Amber says with all the flair she can mend into her voice. “Any wizard worth a Sickle does. You’re the Brindlestone heir. Your family owns the gold mines north of the Thistleberry Forest.” Then, leaning closer to him, eyes glinting with mischief, she asks “The question is, do you know of me?”

To his merit, Rook doesn’t lean away from her, not even an inch. He just sits and stares at her, eyes frowning slightly in concentration.

“…you’re the Cedargust heir,” he eventually says, words coming out slowly. “Daughter of Silver Cedargust and Yvonne Cedargust-Honeywood, owners of the Cedargust Vineyard and the…Honeywood Library?”

Amber allows herself to snort.

“I think you mean the Honeywood Magical Sanctuary, dear. The Ancient Library belongs to the Redsoot family, I’m afraid.”

Rook blinks. “Oh.”

“I take it you’re both Purebloods, then?” Asks Sky, making Amber remember they’re not alone on the compartment. Leaning back on her seat, Amber laughs airily, smiling at Sky with crinkling eyes.

“Yeah, we are. And you’re a Muggleborn, aren’t you? Your clothes aren’t very…witchy.”

To that, Sky smiles bashfully, bringing a hand up to tap her wand against her lips. Amber takes this – and the fact that she doesn’t remember her parents mentioning any Clarksong family – as answer enough.

Rook starts shuffling at her side, and it’s only when he hands out another brownie to Sky that Amber remembers her own – stolen – treat.

Blushing, she takes another bite of it and hopes none of her companions notice her now pink cheeks. Sky follows her lead and tries the brownie, and Amber can only assume her delighted expression was the same one she wore when she was the one trying the chocolate delicacy.

“Oh my god,” she says, dropping her wand to cover her face. “Rook, this is- you are legally obliged to tell your house elves that I love this now.”

Rook smiles warmly and, after he’s lifted Amber’s stuff into a rack above them, gets one brownie for himself. Winking at Sky, he takes a bite of it and says, “Will do.”

Amber feels this warmth of Rook’s extending to her, blooming in her chest like a golden ray of sunshine. She thinks she just chose the best compartment to sit into, apart from the one which would house the Golden Trio, of course. And from the looks of it, both Rook and Sky, all chocolate smiles and wonder, were thinking the same.

Then the train’s whistle sounds, and the three of them are abruptly reminded their compartment has four seats.

“Um, this looks like a very sweet moment but, uh, can I sit with you?”

Alex Aspenvine boards the Hogwarts Express five years younger than he actually is.

His mom had been excited when his Hogwarts letter arrived. His dad, who was completely unaware of her status as a witch, not so much. He got over it quickly enough – a week or two after his letter arrived, he thinks – and was all too enamored by the sight of Diagon Alley to hold any resentment towards his wife after that.

Even now, on platform nine and three-quarters, he’s looking around in amazement, holding tightly onto his wife’s hand. Alex is too concerned with the train leaving without him to pay them any mind.

Nervous beyond belief because of their late arrival, he rushes through the platform to the end of the train, where he knows the compartments are more likely to be empty. His cat, Bandit, lets out an excited trill as Alex all but throws himself through the doors. Alex is too breathless to actually chastise him for it, so he just shakes his cage a little as he searches for an empty compartment.

To his dismay, there is none: None of the compartments were completely filled, as this was the very end of the train, but all were occupied. One compartment to his left only had one person in it, though, so that was probably Alex’s best option.

‘Huh…that guy’s hair is really messy…he has really pretty green eyes, though…’

…

Yeah, no, fuck sitting with Harry Potter.

Again in a rush, he promptly turns to the compartment to his right, where three kids are sitting and sharing pieces of cake. They all look very cute, but Harry Potter is right there and now that he’s facing the way of the doors he can actually see a family full of redheads on the platform just a few compartments down and he really, really doesn’t want to get involved with anything regarding the main plot. Not so early on, when he’s weak like this and on the verge of a panic attack.

And so, he’s left standing awkwardly in front of these kids’ compartment door, waiting for one of them to notice him.

None does.

The Hogwarts Express’ whistle rings sharply around the platform.

Without his permission, his mouth moves.

“Um, this looks like a very sweet moment but, uh, can I sit with you?”

All three kids turn to look at him, momentarily confused. The girl who’s closest to him is the first to regain focus, giving him a blinding smile.

“Well, of course, dear! Sit, sit, the train’s just about to part.”

Alex tries to smile back at her as he comes in, but all he manages is a grimace, shoving his stuff and Bandit’s cage under the seats. He ends up sitting opposite her and next to a brown haired girl, the boy next to the window raising a brow curiously at him as Alex quickly closes the door shut. Heaving a relieved sigh, he finally allows himself to relax. It’s then that the train starts moving, and the girl next to him shuffles to get closer to the window. That’s how Alex is reminded that his parents are people that exists.

Leaning closer to the window himself, he tries not to intrude on the girl’s space while also frantically looking for his parents. To his immense relief, they’re right outside their compartment window, having watched him make a run for the end of the train. The kids opposite them also pile up next to the window, and they all call out to their parents as the Hogwarts Express leaves the station – all except for the black haired boy, who looks out to the platform serene and quiet.

Once the platform gives way to tree-filled fields, they all return to their seats.

“Well, that’s that, I guess,” the girl next to him mutters. Leaning back on her seat, she turns to him and offers him a warm, if tired, smile. “I’m Sky Clarksong.”

“Alex Aspenvine,” is his automatic answer.

“Rook Brindlestone,” says the guy with black hair, smiling politely. And then, finally…

“Amber Cedargust,” says the girl who allowed him in. Now that the train has finally left the station, Alex lets himself study her carefully.

She’s blonde, and unlike him, her hair seems soft and well cared for, sunrays covering it in a golden shine. His own hair rests messy and untamable, a tangle of dusty blond curls pulled up in a small bun. Her skin is light and clear, lips a soft pink color that, were Alex actually the same age as her, would probably ensure her as his first crush. But being older than he should, and knowing things nobody else on this universe knows, the sight only makes Alex wonder if kids are supposed to look that elegant. That…mature.

…it’s probably Harry Potter logic, somehow. Rowling wouldn’t want ugly characters.

…no, actually, she definitely would want them, if only to slander them and have them live through unsavory events. But, still.

This Amber Cedargust is simply far too perceptive-looking. Too cleverish.

This knowledge settles into the depths of Alex’s gut, and he can tell by the way his chest tightens that it’ll be the cause of many restless nights.

That doesn’t stop him from admiring Amber’s eyes.

At first glance, when he got in the compartment, they looked an olive green. Now that he’s paying more attention, though, he can see that they’re actually the color of the sea, threatening to pull him in and leave him breathless. But then, no- her sea-colored eyes seem to swirl, and slowly, almost invisibly, they gain an emerald light.

Amber blinks.

Alex flinches, and the charm is gone.

Amber frowns curiously at him, still sporting a smile, but Alex makes a point of not staring directly at her eyes, instead directing his grey gaze to the bridge of her nose.

Veela.

This Amber Cedargust has Veela blood.

Just his fucking luck.

“So, um,” is his magnificent, eloquently put together conversation starter. “You all Purebloods?”

“Us two are,” says Rook, nodding towards himself and Amber. “Sky’s a Muggleborn.” Next to him, Sky offers him a smile. To Alex, though, who’s a self-declared expert on introverts and social anxiety, it looks more like a grimace. Rook continues on. “You?”

“Half-blood.”

Amber gains a curious glint in her eyes.

“Half-blood?” she asks, straightening in her seat. “Who’s your magical parent?”

“My mom,” Alex admits, fidgeting in his seat. In his mind, he’s already screaming, desperately trying to remember if he ever read about a Cedargust Death Eater. The only knowledge his memories supply him with, however, is that the wizarding community frowns upon witches who marry Muggles more than they do wizards. “Elowen Aspenvine. She’s, um, a Portraiture Master.”

Amber raises one careful brow.

“A Portraiture Master?” she asks, voice now much more sharp. “Why, I’ve never heard of an Aspenvine with such a title. Only ever Lemongrass. Far as I knew, he was the only Portraiture Master Britain had.”

Alex bristles, or at least he comes close to it. He bites his tongue, though, far too aware of the consequences of making a foe out of a Slytherin-prospect Pureblood heir. No matter how small and cute she may look.

“She’s a polyglot. She works for people all over Europe.” And, feeling a spark of protectiveness too fierce for him to tame down, he adds. “Last month she even went over to Indonesia.”

“Sounds like a good job,” Sky says from beside him. Alex turns to her and focuses on her encouraging smile to try and calm down, even as he sees, from his peripheral vision, Rook turning to Amber and muttering what he thinks is the Pureblood version of ‘easy, girl.’ “I bet she has had lots of good experiences.”

“…yeah,” he murmurs, trying once again to get his memory to work. Clarksong, Sky had said. Had Harry ever encountered any Clarksongs? “She went over to Spain, once. She painted a wedding. The couple was happy.”

“I’m sure they were,” Sky mutters back, just as lowly. “My parents run a café in London. It’s not that big, but people like it a lot.”

“My dad’s a beekeeper. Maybe we could lend you some honey?”

“They’d love that.” Then, Sky’s brow furrows. “Are you from London, too?”

Alex blinks. “Er, no.” Sky’s frown turns vaguely more disappointed, and Alex rushes to make the kid smile again. “But I’m sure we can find a way to mail it to you! You know, magic and all that.” Then he chuckles. It is the most horrible, awkward chuckle he’s ever let out on both of his lives.

“You could use my owl,” Rook offers from across them, apparently done chastising Amber from whatever her little interrogation was. He flashes him a warm, blinding smile, and were he not so obviously a Slytherin-prospect, too, Alex would say it makes him look Gryffindor-ish. “Unless you have one, that is.”

“Huh,” is all Alex says, still not sure how to feel about this weird gang of kids he’s found himself surrounded with. “Yeah, I uh, I think I’ll take you up on that offer, yes.”

Her mom doesn’t own an owl. From what he had managed to gather from her, she has a personal enchanted diary that lets her speak with people all over the world as long as they have a book from the wizarding world and the correct charm. Alex himself had decided to adopt Bandit, a bastard, hyperactive cat, over an owl as his designated Hogwarts pet.

He thought that, with some luck, he would be able to deliver his letters himself.

[Animagus.]

At the time it didn’t strike him that, if his Animagus form were to be an owl or a bird of any kind, he wouldn’t need to send letters to anybody, as he could simply fly over and speak his mind himself. Now in the flesh of a wizard attending Hogwarts for the first time, he can admit to himself that maybe a mammal would be just as good. He’d even take a rat, as offensive as the animal was because of Pettigrew. In the case he couldn’t stop Voldemort from rising again, going about as a rat or a snake might be enough to save his life.

A trill coming from above them breaks Alex out of his thoughts. Sky dutifully stands up and offers Alex a- a brownie? Since when did she have a brownie? Was Alex really so nervous about today he didn’t notice her holding it? Shit, Hogwarts is going to absolutely fuck him if he keeps on like this.

When Sky seats again, there’s a fluffy calico cat on her arms. The cat in question looks around at all of them with silvery blue eyes, and with a meow and a wave of the tail, the cat settles onto Sky’s lap purring.

“This is Lait,” she says, with all the confidence and charm of an eleven-year-old. “We bought her on Diagon Alley.”

In a blink, Amber’s kneeling on the floor and petting at her, cooing and awing at the way Lait presses against her hands.

“Glorious.”

“Ok.”

Then, of course, because he’s a drama queen, Bandit shrieks from inside his cage, and Alex’s got no option but to take him out. It all goes downhill from there.

When they arrive at Hogwarts hours later, all four of them can safely say the ride went much better than expected. Sky and Alex spent most of their time either quietly chatting while looking over their pets or sleeping against each other, despite the nerves of their Sorting growing closer every second. Rook and Amber kept the compartment alive even as their companions slept, talking about everything and anything for the entire ride, playing cards and chess and guess-the-spell. All in all, it was a very enjoyable day, all kids having momentarily forgotten the weight of the war laying ahead.

This comfort keeps them together all the way over the Black Lake, where they all huddle together in a boat and marvel at the sights both over and under them, and through the ghosts’ visit to the first years waiting before the entrance to the Great Hall.

Of course, as the books had predicted, all kids, real or not, are left breathless at the sight of the enchanted roof, showing a smattering of white, twinkling stars against the endless depth of a velvet black sky. It is all so very surreal, the four long tables decorated in the school’s colors, the hundreds of students and thousands of candles lighting up the room. And then, of course, there’s Albus Dumbledore, sitting atop a golden chair and looking over his charges with a smile.

Then there’s the Sorting Hat.

Alex had thought, fleetingly, when they were still on the train, that things went downhill when Bandit decided to be a bitch and scream.

But no. Of course not.

Things go downhill here.

“SLYTHERIN.”

“HUFFLEPUFF.”

“GRYFFINDOR.”

“RAVENCLAW.”

#despite this being titled prologue i'll probably won't write more #i just wanted to introduce everyone to the single most beloved characters ever #my little creatures #they're sososo weird and awkward and unaware of the horrors #i love them <3 #now onto the actual tags #harry potter #hp #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fic #Goldencast #obligatory disclaimer that jk can go fuck herself #in this house we support trans rights (and the whole lgbt community of course)

0 notes

sukunasweetheart · 1 month ago

Text

the tiger and his milk! 🐯

in this world, a certain tiger hybrid male keeps a keen eye on a cow hybrid female next door...

warnings; female reader, inaccurate?omegaverse, lactation without pregnancy, animal-human hybrid AU (but theyre more human than animal tbh just imagine them with ears and a tail), heat and rut, breeding, alcohol as aphrodisiac, bullying of the cervix, tit sucking, nipple teasing, biting, dry humping, overstimulation, sexual frustration, neighbours-with-benefits, knotting, f!masturbation, lots of cum, this is straight up just a hxntai oop

word count; 6.5k

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and @/thecutestgrotto

do NOT expect a serious and well-paced writing from this one, i was horny and the end result is just.... this. sorry not sorry, I AM WARNING YALL; this is one degenerate ass fic also forgive me for any inaccuracies in any of the tropes i used, i just cherry picked the parts i wanted and mixed it all together so...

moving to this new neighborhood hasn't been all too easy for you.

being a little low on money aside, there's a certain rambunctious neighbour who won't leave you alone. he playfully terrorises you with threats to eat you up, and makes comments that all go straight to your head, making you feel weak and flustered, leading you to cower beneath him. though you should firmly tell him to cut it out, you struggle to do this when you’re dealing with someone who could be a natural predator of yours, had you been an actual sow and not a hybrid.

that, and also-

strangely, there's a part of you that doesn't despise the way he treats you. in fact, when you see his large, brutish hands and the veins that run up his arms, you feel yourself squeezing your thighs together. you brush it off as it being a result of your apparent loneliness and sexual frustration. there's nothing good that'd come out from being with such a discourteous man.

setting that aside... there are numerous other problems that you've been having to deal with, recently.

your breasts have been collecting milk faster, and much more than usual, recently.

even for cow hybrids, milk should only be produced when the female is pregnant, and for only a year or two at most after giving birth. for some unknown reason, you produce it all year round, even without needing to have children. doctor after doctor you've visited, and all they've told you is that you're a strange anomaly. there is nothing you can do about it except extract it every now and then, to relieve the pain and swelling.

tonight, that is what you're planning on busying yourself with, once you get home from your shitty office job.

walking towards your porch with a deep sigh, you hear a deep voice call out to you.

"bad day at work, dollface?" your terrible neighbour-- sukuna, he's called, asks you with a cigarette in his hand dressed in jeans and a black tanktop. his tail swishes playfully behind him.

dollface. one of the few nicknames he uses condescendingly to refer to you. it's either dollface, doll, or sweetheart, and you don't recall ever hearing him actually use your name.

"um, work was alright... thank you for asking. have a good evening."

you like to make things short and stop any further conversation from happening, even though it might come off as a little awkward. one of sukuna's ears flick at your dry response, but he doesn't seem to bother you any further as you hurriedly unlock your front door and head inside.

sukuna drops his cigarette bud on the ground, and puts out the flame by stepping on it. you're not very sociable, as per usual...

but your sweet, passing scent makes for a little growl to rise in the back of his throat. sweet milk. that's what you always smell like. how curious. how tempting.

once you're home, you immediately grab your breastmilk pump that sits beside your sink. it hasn't been too long since you last cleaned it. you unhook your bra, and grimace at the wet stains on it, from leaking bit by bit throughout the day.

you press the pump up against one of your breasts and press the on button. it starts doing it's job. you sigh from relief, and watch as it fills up quite quickly. you wonder what you should do with all of it...

you stop the pump to empty it out into a glass bottle. it's a tedious process. sometimes... sometimes you wish you had a partner who could help you with it. sometimes, you wish someone would latch their mouth on and extract you directly-

what if he-- sukuna- did that for you? forcefully held you down and-

your eyes widen and your tail droops with shock at your own intrusive thoughts. heavens, no! you need to get yourself a partner. it's been too long. you hope you're not heading into heat already? it's not time for that yet, at least not according to your usual cycle. shaking your head as you extract the remnants of the milk from your breasts, you finish up quickly.

at least tomorrow, it will be saturday.

you'd forgotten about how overgrown the grass in your front yard had gotten. so, even though it's a saturday, and despite how you'd love to stay inside with all the curtains shut and doors locked tight... an unpleasant duty calls outside.

but despite the meticulous preparation of lathering enough sunscreen over yourself in protection against the sun's rays - the lawn mower suddenly doesn't want to heed to your calling.

your face scrunches up into a frown. darn thing.

the useless machine splutters and makes an obnoxious noise only in the beginning before giving out, no matter how many times you try to rev it back up again.

"goddamn it. you stupid thing," you mutter under your breath, crouching down to inspect it.

"need help?"

sukuna leans against the fence that is shorter than his own height, watching you with amusement. he'd been observing you for quite a few minutes by now.

"no thank you. i'm quite alright..." you respond without turning back. you know damn well whose voice that belongs to.

but does he listen? of course not! you hear the noise of the man easily bypassing the fence by elegantly hopping over it, before walking over towards you. how funny, even the fence fails to serve it's purpose in this moment.

"like that's believable. you think verbally degrading it will make it work?" sukuna snorts, coming around and shooing you away from the lawn mower.

he gives it a nice big rev, but not much happens. you smile slightly, wondering if he was going to make a fool of himself, after all that big attitude.

sukuna brings his foot against the side of the machine and gives it a hard kick. the sound startles you.

and now it's starting up nicely, and beginning to do it's job.

the man begins to mow your lawn for you, without another word. you stand around, not knowing what to do... your ears flicker as you stare at him doing your job for you. it feels odd. what is he up to?

well... no matter the hidden motive, it's true that he's doing you a huge favour. perhaps you should at least make a cold beverage for him, once he finishes with your yard. after observing him for a while, you head back inside to search for what would serve as an appropriate iced drink.

by the time you've stepped back outside, the yard is cut neatly and sukuna is in the midst of returning your lawn mower to your garage.

you silently hand him over his drink, and he takes it with a smirk.

"it's gone..." he suddenly comments.

"what's gone?" you question, with a raised eyebrow.

"that sweet smell that always surrounds you."

he proceeds to down his drink very quickly, not breaking eye contact with you. then, he starts chewing on the ice, tail swishing mischievously behind him.

"i... don't know what you mean." you cross your arms.

"hmm. playing dumb, i see. that's fine, i suppose."

you stand awkwardly with him in silence, simply listening to him crunching away on the ice. the heat from the sunlight gets more and more unbearable.

"if you're done with your drink... i think i'll start heading back inside now. thank you for your help today," you tell him politely, carefully taking your cup back from his hands.

he makes it seem like he's handing it over to you obediently, but then he tightens his grip against it when you're holding onto the glass, making you stare up at him in confusion. he pulls it back, so that you stumble closer to him.

"just letting you know. if you need any help, you can always ask me."

you're a bit nervous, but you try not to show it. does he know something? how much does he know? you feel your tail cowardly fall in between your legs. sukuna's ears give a light flick, but you don't know what that means.

"...we're neighbours, after all."

you look at him with distrust, holding onto your cup tighter. your gaze is unwavering as you meet his eyes.

"sure. i'll keep that in mind," you respond slowly.

seemingly satisfied, he lets go of your glass.

"thanks for the drink. see you."

it's a short backhanded wave he gives you, before he hops over the fence again. you narrow your eyes. just what kind of fence is this useless? can't even keep away one bad, bad man. you're not sure how much he's caught onto, but you sure hope he stops being interested in you with enough time. he easily sends odd tingles down your spine, and you don't like that one bit.

not at all...

the working part of an office job isn't actually that bad.

it's the people involved around you that makes it a living hell. nothing gets your blood pressure higher than your collusive colleagues and snobby superiors - especially the lazy ones who do everything to shove their workload onto other people.

such people are yet also, annoyingly obsessed with get-togethers and teamwork, which makes you laugh.

today is such an unlucky day, that you've been dragged off to an after-work gathering at some cheap restaurant with your shitty coworkers, all because one of them decided that they needed one.

nothing like being surrounded by a bunch of people that you hate, on a wednesday evening. you have to put on a fake smile, and remain the passive, agreeable coworker in this environment. they coerce you to drink more alcohol. you want to decline, but you feel as though you'll ruin the mood if you turn them down. you down a few pints of beer.

you can feel your breasts leaking again.

just let me go home, you think to yourself, for the fifth time in a row.

your wish is only granted after an hour or two later. you're still sober, maybe a little tipsy, seeing as you can feel the heat in your face from the alcohol. your body is probably not taking it very well today.

the first thing you do when you get home is washing your hands and settling down with your little trusty pump. when you undo your bra, you sigh in relief as your chest feels free. and also...

it's probably the alcohol acting as an aphrodisiac - you're a bit more sensitive tonight. you caress the swell of your breast and groan, your horniness overriding how tired you are. your other hand wanders down your panties, and your ears droop down.

you purse your lips together and let your fingers work against your clit for an orgasm that you know will be unsatisfactory, but you chase after such pleasure regardless. your breaths quicken, and you tilt your head back, closing your eyes. nearly there...

just when you were about to reach your first high of the night, a firm knock is heard from your door. just your luck. a ruined orgasm.

who can it be, at this time of the evening? you throw on a cardigan that just barely covers you up, and boldly stomp towards the door, irritated. you could give this person just about any piece of your mind.

but when you open the door, you're met with your most cunning and bothersome of a neighbour, sukuna. maybe it's because you're hornier than ever right now - you feel as though he looks even...hotter, tonight. his scent makes you dizzy.

sukuna had come by because he needed an ingredient for his dinner.

he wasn't expecting to be met with the eye candy that is your slightly disheveled self, with one hand keeping your loose cardigan together, while you're very obviously braless, judging by your nipples jutting out against the fabric. that, and the thick smell of your arousal that hit him right when the door had opened.

"wh-what do you want?" you ask, a little breathless, trying to keep it together.

sukuna looks down at you, trying to keep himself calm. this seems amusing. he doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from tenting his pants soon, if he stays around you longer...

"you look like you were busy with something... sorry to interrupt," he voices slyly, his fangs showing when he smiles.

"just... get on with it, please," you frown, your legs squeezing together. you can never tell what he's thinking - whether he knows everything or if he's pretending to know everything.

"nothing much, just ran out of salt at home. could i get some of yours?" sukuna shrugs innocently, holding up his empty salt jar.

"hold on a second."

you turn around to button your cardigan up with a sigh of annoyance, and you tell him to come in while you grab your salt from the kitchen.

once sukuna steps inside, he observes a million details at once. the very first thing he sees is your little pump that you'd forgotten to put away there. there's no way that puny thing is enough for you, is it?

in your kitchen, you grab your jar of salt, and attempt to open the thing - but your arms feel like jelly at the moment. you grit your teeth and try harder, cursing at yourself for shutting it so tight the last time you used it. you begin to strain your arms further. sukuna marvels at this excellent opportunity he is granted.

your feelings of irritation are whisked away when a pair of hands gently land on top of yours, against the jar. his fingertips reach the lid through the gaps between your own fingers. you feel the bigger man's body warmth, when he comes around from behind. it makes you feel so weak. your tail is hanging off to the side, raised high.

sukuna applies a bit of pressure, and the jar comes off easily. you note how warm his large hands feel.

"i came here for the salt, but now i'm thinking maybe i won't need it anymore..." he whispers down at you. your ears can't help but flicker from his voice.

"what... do you mean by that?" you ask, not knowing what to think.

he guides your hands to put the salt down on the counter. and then his body presses up against yours a little harder. you can feel his growing boner against your behind, and you feel lightheaded. sukuna peers down longingly at the exposed side of your neck.

your pheromones mix with his, and his fluffy tail curls around your leg, almost possessively. sukuna's hands are still holding onto yours, and you feel your breaths get more laboured by the tension.

"i promised to lend my help, didn't i? c'mon..." he coaxes, speaking closely so that his breath grazes against the skin of your neck.

you feel yourself starting to sweat a little more - his body heat is just too much. your chest is uncomfortably full, and the thought of someone sucking on your sensitive nipples is enough for you to finally cave in, and play the fool for the night.

you break free from his grasp for a moment, and hesitatingly point to your couch.

"...sit. it's probably easier on the couch," you tell him, not looking his way. and now you're even shoving him towards it, impatiently.

"my, how demanding," he comments teasingly. he knows you purposefully broke the tension - to prevent him from taking the lead. but he obediently takes a seat on your couch. following that, you awkwardly mount him and sit on his lap.

sukuna watches with a softer smirk as you unbutton yourself again, revealing your leaky breasts with a flustered look on your face. sukuna's hit with that familiar sweet scent that's always been floating around you all this time - but now, it's right in front of him, in full force. it makes his mouth water. he was right about you lactating.

"....go ahead," you tell him shamelessly, yet still sorely embarrassed, cheeks feeling so warm that you're concerned you might pass out. "just be gentle," you warn him, looking at him with a little hesitation and pursed lips.

sukuna feels his cock twitch against you, and he wonders if you can feel it too, from the way you're sitting right on it. his own face feels quite flushed - any man would be the same if they were in his position. such a pretty thing in his lap, willingly undoing her buttons for him. he's never seen tits more beautiful than yours.

"hurry-" you breathe out, impatient, and moreover, shy from the way he's shamelessly admiring your face and chest with a dumb smirk plastered on his face.

not even a millisecond after you say it, he puts his searing hot mouth around one of your nipples. your brain ceases to function as a zap runs through your body, and you whine without meaning to, your back arching. though you grab at his shoulder, your other hand claps over your own mouth to muffle your moans.

the suction of his mouth does wonders for pleasure, nothing like the dull feeling that your mechanic pump gives. you hear his throaty growls as he sucks on your nipple, getting a mouthful of the taste of your sweet milk. you shudder on top of him, becoming pliant with his touch.

sukuna bathes in your warmth and the softness of your breasts, enjoying how he is able to breathe in your scent from this close. your milk isn't like anything he's ever had before. not too sweet and yet not bland - a taste that is unique to you...

his other hand squeezes your other nipple, making sure it isn't too lonely from his touch. you jerk your hips against him, whole body twitching from the pleasure, the joy of having your tits milked by someone else rather than yourself. you can't hold your moans back any longer.

"fuck... oh please..." you mumble, feeling your breast being drained of it's milk.

he stops sucking for a moment, and you see the beautiful but subtle blush on his cheeks, as he looks up at you like he's intoxicated. he lets his tongue out and flicks it up and down your erect nipple, rolling it around the areola. it makes you whimper and tremble in his lap.

"don't... tease me..." you say through gritted teeth, frowning at him while he merely chuckles at your reaction.

sukuna attaches his mouth to your other breast, as it's leaking so much - as if to beg him to drain it next.

your cunt is pulsing so bad, and you feel yourself drenching your panties already. you subconsciously grind down against him and his obvious boner, trying to relieve yourself, desperate to reach a proper orgasm this time. both of you are in a lusty haze, unconcentrated eyes, you're lost in pleasure and he's lost in the taste of you, your breast milk dripping down his chin as he messily gulps down with greed.

sukuna also bucks his hips up against you, cock straining in his pants - god, he's so hard that it hurts. when was the last time he's felt such a way? he breathlessly sucks and slurps everything out of you, feeling the milk pass down his throat and into his stomach. he could drink this shit forever.

he wants to cum. he's gonna fucking cum. into his pants no less, like a damn virgin. with the way you're rolling your hips around and grinding down on him like a whore, its only a matter of time.

"haah... sukuna... more- do it more," you plead, relishing in the pleasure of having your tits taken care of, while you get yourself off on his very obvious erection - rubbing your clothed cunt against him. it feels so good on your sensitive clit, you're gonna lose your damn mind.

sukuna doesn't pry his lips away from your nipple, but his hands come off your breasts - you feel his arms wrap around your waist instead, holding you down against him tightly, guiding your hips and helping himself dry hump you harder while his face is still all up in your tits.

your breathing quickens even further, and you grab fistfuls of his shirt on his back, shutting your eyes in anticipation-- before letting your orgasm crash over you completely. you gasp as your clit throbs intensely, and you feel slick leaking all over in your panties as you ride your climax out against sukuna's hard cock, shuddering as you do so.

sukuna groans with his mouth still on your breast, his orgasm coming a little later than yours, dick twitching as rope after rope of his cum soils his boxers, hips bucking up into you without control - it feels so restricted in his shorts, and he desperately wants to take it out. his lips finally leave your swollen nipple with a little pop sound. his large hands come to grope the soft flesh as he comes off his high, a dull throb ringing in his cock, one orgasm being far from enough.

"look at you, rubbing your cunt all over my cock to get yourself off, like a proper slut. aren't you a little too eager?" he teases breathlessly, with a weak smirk on his face.

"you're the one... that came onto me so strongly..." you pant, drunk from the waves of pleasure you just received, and from the endless twitching of sukuna's giant cock... he's still hard.

"just admit that you're perverted. arguably, even worse than what i am," sukuna mocks, pinching at your nipples, making you wince.

"shut up, you."

in the spur of the moment, you lift your hips up slightly to shove your hand down his pants to take his dick out due to irritation. sukuna gives the slightest flinch from the sensation of your hand, grabbing onto his now bare erection.

you begin to fiercely jerk him off with a frown on your face, wanting to punish him for his comments a few seconds ago, knowing he's still sensitive from his recent orgasm.

"fuck-! what're you-" he cuts his own voice off with a choked off gasp due to the tight grip of your hand against his twitching cock. he's back to bucking his hips again as you pump up and down with both hands, his dick already being lathered with his own cum making it easier for you. the noises that come out of him almost fills you with pride - and also surprise. you'd never thought that someone like him would ever moan in this way... you jerk him off faster, and a little harder, being fixated on his pretty looking cock that keeps jumping in your hands.

"shit! that's- enough-" sukuna gasps again, chest heaving and whole body jerking, but oddly, not attempting to stop you at all.

you watch in awe, as his cock spurts out several strings of white cum once again, his head tilted back with deep groans, dick pulsing - your hands keep away from it for the first few seconds just to observe, but then you help to milk it dry, grabbing his base and slowly stroking up and down. he shudders from your touch, and the sight of him being so sorely sensitive makes you feel your heartbeat in your pussy again.

he really does cum a shit ton. it goes for what seems to be like ages, never ending pulses of his cock and rope after rope tainting your hands, and his own stomach. the way he shivers before you, how captivating his groans sound, it all makes you want to do it all over again.

you slowly rub his tip against your palm, playing with his dick as if it were a toy - but this time, he grabs your wrist to stop you.

"enough..." he says with a low voice - and the look that he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

he's beginning to smell a bit different. its not like before. and it's getting thicker by the second...

"ah, fuck.... i'm in rut," sukuna admits with a scowl, and a flushed face.

the realisation hits you like a truck.

"look at what you've done," sukuna growls as he grabs your hips and pushes you closer towards him, his cock impossibly harder. he's breathing heavily, and you see the precum that's gathering on his tip. he won't be able to hold himself back much longer, and you know it.

and curse the omega in you - you're unable to resist him, and you can feel yourself syncing with his rut, a strange swoop occurring in your stomach. his strong pheromones make you lightheaded and feverish, instigating your submissive side as you become obedient - sitting on his lap with an eager shine in your eyes, breathing heavy from his strong scent and your desire to be dominated.

you want to have your brains fucked out. you can't take it anymore.

as if reading your mind, sukuna lunges forward and practically throws you onto your back on your couch - you let out a yelp and watch as he pulls your shorts and panties down and casts them aside, stripping you completely. you feel so vulnerable, but his intense strength and desperation is only adding to your arousal.

he pushes your knees up and rubs his cock up against your clit, and puckering hole.

"look at all this slick. you want me that bad huh?" sukuna remarks darkly, sweat gathering on his temples.

you grit your teeth, fighting the urge to give him a meek response - having the strange desire to provoke and set him off until the end.

"you're the desperate one here..." you tell him breathlessly, sensing how his dick is practically begging to be inside you, with the way it twitches on your cunt.

your blood runs cold for a second, when you see the way he looks down at you, with a vein popping out on his forehead.

"...maybe i am," he relents, with a low voice, grabbing your face.

and then he leans down to shove his lips against yours, while thrusting his cock into you at the same time.

you whimper into the kiss as his tip hits your womb like nothing. you'd ignored how massive he was at the start, but now it's impossible to brush off.

"t-too big..." you mumble when he breaks away from your lips.

sukuna groans as he drags his cock in and out of your sopping cunt, practically holding him in an iron grip from the suction. your endless amount of slick coats his dick with plenty of lubricant to fuck you more easily.

"you can take it, doll. i'll make you take it..."

his eyes dilate as he begins to piston his hips at a fast but uneven pace, groaning shamelessly as his cock ravishes your pussy by hitting all the right places, heavy balls smacking against your ass with every thrust. the pleasure runs through your veins like electricity, and you feel high off the feeling of someone so big and strong using you like you were his fleshlight - to relieve his rut.

you can barely breathe from the way he pounds you, relentlessly pushing you to the limit, tears forming in your eyes and high pitched moans coming from your throat.

"ohh-! sukuna... oh, please please please..." you plead, almost sobbing.

he responds by leaning down to lather his tongue against your scent glands, sucking on them and rest of the skin on your neck. you shudder and let out another set of whimpers - and sukuna's fangs feel antsy, wanting to sink them into your flesh.

sukuna aims for the sweetness from your breasts, to distract himself. you cry out as he roughly latches onto your nipple and begins to suck as he squeezes your soft flesh. his cock feels like it's about to burst.

when he stimulates your nipples a certain way and his tip grazes your g-spot at the same time, you're hit with an orgasm that makes you squeal and has your cunt fluttering uncontrollably.

his dick gives in to the sudden milkings of your pussy and sukuna pushes his hips to settle himself into you as deep as he can - giving a choked off groan from the sudden climax as his cock swells up inside of you, anchoring itself.

the knowledge of him knotting you doesn't seem to matter as you enjoy the feeling of the warm gush of his cum pouring into your womb, his balls clenching with every rope that spurts out, messily coating your walls with white.

sukuna pants so heavily above you, abs flexing as he continues to orgasm in your warm cunt that still has a dull pulse from your previous climax. he nuzzles into the crook of your neck with a soft growl, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

your breathing relaxes as you lay still on the couch while sukuna weighs you down and breeds you properly, consequences be damned. you could try and fight him off, but it's been so long since you've been so sexually satisfied that your logical thinking has turned itself off. all you want to do is enjoy bathing in the pheromones of your alpha and let the heaviness of his large body drape over yours as he pumps you full of his babies.

sukuna is usually very careful about who he's around when he's in a rut - and he's always made sure either he or his partner had some sort of protection on before doing anything. he wouldn't want to go around having kids with the wrong people. it's hard to say whether you're wrong or right for him - he doesn't know much about you to judge yet...

but you make him feel so right.

and he's still fighting off the urge to mark you to make you officially his, with drool beginning to run down his chin. his fangs are making it unbearable; he needs to bite something right now.

"you look restless..." you tell him, getting him to tear his gaze away from your neck, to your face instead.

you pull him in for a messy kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth. he feels the way you brush over his fangs, paying extra attention to them as you make out with him, and it makes him groan. you must have done this with someone else before. sukuna nips at your tongue and lower lip, doing his best not to break skin - trying to relieve himself of the urge to bite.

the swell of his knot is gradually subsiding, but you know that the night is far from over.

"which way to your bedroom?" sukuna asks after breaking away from your kiss, breathlessly.

"farthest down the corridor, past the kitchen.." you respond, feeling a little needy after he abruptly stopped the kiss like that.

"hold onto me."

he lifts you up easily with his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist, arms over his shoulders. the display of strength makes your heartbeat quicken.

when you're laid upon the soft mattress of your bed, his lips come crashing down again - while his hips begin to give shallow thrusts, cock still hard and throbbing. sukuna kisses you like he's a man starved, and you feel as though he might actually swallow you up at this rate.

the strong grip on your hips tighten as his pace gets rougher. you have to break away to gasp and moan. every time he jostles your body, you feel his previous heavy load sloshing inside you, and it's getting too much. sukuna doesn't look like he's even entirely here, hips moving mindlessly and drool dripping down his chin - it's a terrifyingly arousing sight.

he tries to come down and kiss you again, but you have to push his face away - you're so out of breath that you're afraid you might pass out if he does that again. it's overwhelming, how his thick cock bullies itself against your walls over and over again.

sukuna doesn't seem too pleased that you're pushing him away; he holds you tighter and he adjusts his hips to fuck you deeper. you mewl loudly, but keep your hand weakly against his face - he doesn't force it away, but lets his tongue droop out, caressing your fingers with it. you feel him bite and suck on your hand as his sharp thrusts produce small bulges in your stomach.

you witness his eyes dilating again, and you swear you see hearts in them this time, your fingers still in his mouth.

his dick feels so, so good in your pussy. your intoxicating smell now surrounds him after coming into your bedroom, and it's driving him insane. he grunts above you, balls feeling heavy, dick pulsing as his tip finds its way knocking on your cervix. there's a thick ring of cream foaming on the base of his cock now, a mixed concoction of both his cum and your slick.

his thrusting gets sloppy and his hips stutter, meaning that he's going to orgasm again. sukuna's eyes roll back, as he messily "kisses" your hand, pushing himself balls deep into you at the final moment.

you arch your back at the sensation of his knot swelling up once again, cumming at this moment. sukuna almost topples over from the tightness, as the walls of your cunt flutter around his knot, effectively squeezing everything out of him.

"f-fu-uuck..." he drones, his voice dragging the curse word out.

you feel him dumping every drop into your poor womb, emptying his balls. you're afraid that you'll get addicted to this "full" feeling, the warmth of his seed filling you up, the way your insides can feel his cock twitch violently with every thick string of cum he shoots out. you never imagined being held down and inseminated would feel this good.

sukuna's eyes are half-lidded, pleasure continuing to run up and down his spine. he pins your wrist down against the bed suddenly, and latches his mouth to one of your breasts - beginning to suck immediately, like he's trying to rehydrate himself with your milk. you shudder. it seems as though he's doing nothing but take, take, and take from your body... not that you'll stop him from doing so.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, catching your breath, slightly trembling each time he sucks a little too hard. shortly after he is seemingly content, he completely collapses his body over yours, face all up in your breasts, purring while his knot still sits inside of you.

you sense that it's only the beginning of a long, long night.

once the sun has rolled into the sky, you finally remember the fact that the weekdays haven't finished yet - and that you're supposed to be getting ready for work right now.

problem is, there's a certain someone clinging to your whole body from behind, still purring against the nape of your neck with a hand lazily groping the flesh of your tit. you can feel his fluffy tail curling around yours, possessively. you're sleepy, and his stupid purring keeps coaxing you to take a nap. he's a lot more docile and softhearted than you imagined. you supposed he'd be out of your house by now.

you reach out and feel around to grab your phone, to give your workplace a call to take the day off. while you're on the phone, sukuna places soft kisses down your back. you hope your boss can't hear the excessive vibration in the background. once you're done with that, you shove your phone under your pillow.

"i need a nap... you can use my shower, or go home, whichever you prefer," you tell him sleepily, shutting your eyes.

"is sleeping next to you also an option?" he asks from behind you, snuggling up closer.

"mm," you reply mindlessly, already dozing off. he slips his arm under your head. admittedly, his arm pillow does feel comfortable.

when you next wake up in a few hours time, you don't know what to feel when you notice that he's still next to you in bed.

"finally awake?"

"yeah... i'm surprised you haven't left," you mumble, following that with a yawn.

"i'm surprised you're not chasing me out," he shoots back.

"what would be the point? i'll see you again the moment i step outside the house."

"i bet you love that. being able to see me all the time," sukuna teases, twirling a strand of your hair with his finger.

"ugh, think what you will," you roll your eyes, trying not to be flustered.

you suddenly realise how thirsty and hungry you are.

"i'm starving... i don't remember what's in the fridge," you mumble to yourself.

"hop in the shower with me and i'll take care of all your meals today," he offers, smirking.

you don't really trust his intentions - especially something as intimate as showering together - but you are famished, and you don't think you will be bothered to cook at all today.

"what meals are we thinking?" you ask, curious.

"hm. well, how about steak?"

"... is that a threat?"

sukuna bursts into laughter.

he informs you that the salt he had originally wanted from you was supposed to be for the steak he was cooking last night. who knew that he'd be having a different kind of steak that evening? you look unamused as he makes the joke between chuckles.

unsurprisingly, you do end up in the shower with him, and again, unsurprisingly, he does pay extra attention to soaping up your tits in particular, and making out with you a little here and there. but as promised, you are rewarded with possibly the best meals you've ever had since you moved to this neighbourhood.

after a bit of conversation, turns out the man is a freelance chef, which is something you would've never guessed. from first glance, he seemed like he could've been part of some gang or a shady underground business.

when you sheepishly apologise for misjudging him based on his looks, sukuna laughs once again, and tells you that he'll forgive you if you let him continue to "help you out" from here onwards...

the rest is in dot points bc im lazy!

originally, i had wanted to make this a bit more toxic but i turned it more wholesome bc i felt like ive already posted toxic stuff before this so haha...

btw you do a few pregnancy checks while sukuna is still there after that night, and it turns out negative. it's a big sigh of relief for you and while it should be the case for sukuna too, since he's never really liked the idea of having kids, for some reason there's the tiniest twinge of disappointment...

anyway - after this, their relationship turns into a weird mix between friends with benefits and ?lovers, semi slow burn

often crashing in each others beds and sharing meals, but also having periods where you won't see one another for a week or so when life gets busy

thing is, you always try and tell yourself that you'll only use him to relieve the swell in your breasts, but it's never the case. things always go out of control and you end up bouncing on his cock without thinking of the consequences.

and he can't stop himself from teasing you everytime, those tits of yours could kill a man, he swears. sukuna gets extremely touchy with them, grazing his fingertips over your nipples, groping you with your shirt still on like a lewd old man, life just feels better when he has your tit in his mouth or hands. it hardly feels like he's actually bullying you when he gets hard like a mf while doing it.

and there are moments where he blurs the line between FWB and becoming something a little more, like when he scents you before you leave his place. "...why're you scenting me?" "why not?"

there is an incident that happens in your house one time, where a huge water leak had happened while you were away at work, drenching the floorboards and things requiring a lot of fixing. you had nowhere else to stay that wasn't either a motel or some cheap sauna so sukuna offered you to sleep at his place for the time being.

it really made things between you two feel a lot more intimate and romantic, a lot of tension, especially when sleeping together without the sex and doing all the chores. both of you felt a little empty when the house maintenance was all done and you had to go back to your own place.

"but there's nowhere for you to sleep except for my bed. i'm not bothered to clean out any of the spare rooms and i don't suppose you want to sleep on the sofa for weeks straight?"

a sly method of getting you to sleep next to him.

also, this man is quite loaded with money. freelance chef popular in demand, but he only takes up jobs that he feels like doing. sometimes he'll leave his house empty for longer times because he's busy, which makes you quite lonely and confused, since he doesn't really explain to you where he's going and why a lot of the time.

when he eventually is back again, he is met with you, holding the scent of some other alpha. he finds himself feeling incredibly upset and possessive, even though he's always deemed relationships to be superficial in his life, because it limits his freedom. but he just feels so deeply unhappy about it that he ends up arguing with you

he knows it shouldn't be something he is entitled to feel angry about when he's not even properly committed to you but it's not like he's ever mingled with other omegas ever since he's met you? it just felt so unfair to him in the moment.

shortly after the argument, you end up confessing you didn't even do anything with the alpha anyway, just a boring date and one quick hug. and sukuna also explains that it was his fault in the first place, leaving and coming back without saying anything. turns out that he sometimes works as a chef in places like hotels and when he's preparing food for companies or people who live a distance away, he just spends the nights somewhere nearby for convenience.

the tension is high after both of you are finished clearing things up, and it eventually leads to sex again. he wants to get rid of that scent ASAP, whether it was from just a hug or not, he needs it GONE. and this time, he properly marks you, sinking his fangs into your scent glands like he's always ached to do.

the night ends with you two officially becoming a couple, finally haha, happy days

the end

Masterlist

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x y/n

5K notes · View notes