#or even just make a finished piece in an hour or so

[itsnesss]

hihi!! could you please do a younger driver (like ollie or kimi) and a piece on missing the reader’s graduation bc of a race?

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫 | oliver bearman × fem!reader

summary | you graduate, but ollie misses it because of a race. you give your speech, heart heavy, thinking of him

warnings | fluff, soft romance, mild angst, long-distance struggles, emotional vulnerability, comfort

word count | 1.5 k

🖇 more ob87 🖇 f1 masterlist

Your dress has been hanging in the closet for days, protected by a garment bag. It’s the same one you picked out with your mom, the one Ollie said made you look like a movie star.

Less than 24 hours to your graduation, and as you place the cap on the bed, you check your phone one more time. Nothing. No new messages. No calls. No news from Ollie.

You knew. You knew there was a chance. A high chance, to be honest, that he wouldn’t make it. But you had made so many plans… He himself promised he would try everything to be there.

“What if I get there just at the end, and I give you a hug when you finish your speech?” he had said excitedly, days before.

You practiced that speech with him. Several times. On video calls from hotels all around the world. He corrected you, laughed when you made a bad joke, asked you to say it slower when you rushed.

And you did it hoping that, when you walked on stage and read the final words, his eyes would be waiting for you in the audience.

But now, less than a day away, everything points to him not being there.

You sit on the bed and dial his number. It goes straight to voicemail.

You take a deep breath, swallowing the disappointment. He loves you. You know that. But sometimes loving someone who also loves their dream is… lonely.

You want to scream. Not at him. At the world.

Then, your phone vibrates.

A voice message from Ollie.

“Hey... love. I’m sure you probably already know what I’m about to say. I tried, really. But I’m not going to make it. I’m stuck here because of the rankings. They won’t let me move anything. I’m so sorry. So sorry. I thought if I didn’t tell you earlier, there might still be a tiny chance. But there isn’t…”

Pause.

“It hurts more than I can explain not to be there tomorrow. I know how much it means to you. To both of us. But even if I can’t see you walk across that stage, I’ll be watching you from wherever I am. And when you finish, when you have your diploma in your hands… call me. Please. Because even if I can’t hug you, I promise I’ll be with you in everything that comes after.”

A tear escapes.

Tomorrow is still ahead.

The sun falls perfectly over campus when you leave the house with your cap in hand and your eyes still swollen from crying the night before. You look in the rearview mirror of your dad’s car and smile automatically. You’ve waited for this day for years. You imagined it again and again. But in all those versions… Ollie was there.

When you get out of the car, everyone seems to be shining. Your classmates take selfies, some rush to meet their families, others joke about not tripping going up the stage. You just look for a face you already know you won’t find.

The ceremony begins. Your name is on the program. You’re going to give a speech. One you practiced with him. One you read over and over so he could hear it between training, interviews, and flights.

“Now, please welcome our graduating class’s guest speaker…”

You’re asked to go up.

The lights blind you a little. The auditorium is huge. It feels bigger without him.

“Good afternoon. I want to start with something very simple… thank you.”

Your voice is steady. No one notices how tightly you grip the edge of the podium, or how your eyes wander over the rows, hoping to see him somewhere. Hoping you could trick fate and make him appear.

“Thank you to my teachers, my parents, my friends… and to someone who isn’t here today. Though he was in every rehearsal, in every word of this speech. This person… believed in me when I didn’t. He listened, encouraged me, interrupted me with bad jokes so I wouldn’t take everything so seriously. And even though he’s not sitting here today… he’s with me. I’m sorry. Because that’s what the people we love do: they’re there, even when they can’t be.”

There’s a long silence. Some people applaud. Others smile, not fully understanding who you meant.

But you know. And that’s enough.

When you step down from the stage, your chest burns a little. Pride, sadness, a warm hollow that carries his name.

You go through the ceremony like a spectator of your own movie. You receive your diploma. You get hugs. Your parents congratulate you. Friends take pictures with you.

And you smile. Because you made it this far.

But something is missing. And no matter how much you deny it, you feel it.

Later, when you’re at home, the dress already wrinkled and the cap on the table, your phone vibrates.

Ollie: Can I call you?

You answer with a simple “Yes.”

Seconds later, his name appears on the screen. You pick up.

“Hi,” you say, barely a whisper.

“You look beautiful,” he says without hesitation.

“How do you know?”

“I watched the whole stream. I had an interview at the same time, but I snuck away. I saw you give the speech. You have no idea how hard it was not to cry like an idiot at the part about ‘the people we love are there, even when they can’t be’…”

You bite your lip. There’s a huge knot in your throat.

“I really wanted you to be there.”

“Me too. Every second. Every damn second. Can I send you something?”

Before you can answer, a notification arrives.

An attached file. A video.

You open it.

It’s Ollie, in his hotel room, still wearing his team suit, holding a small homemade sign that says “Congrats, love. You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s cheesy,” he laughs from the phone. “But I made it while watching the ceremony. Just in case… you couldn’t see me, so at least you’d know I was with you. In my way.”

And you… you break down crying. Silently. With the full weight of having wanted that moment so badly with him.

“Thank you, Ollie.”

“I’m going to make it up to you. All of it. I promise.”

“No need. Just… thank you for not making me feel alone, even though you were so far away.”

Silence. Warmth.

“I love you,” he says suddenly, steady.

Your heart stops for a second.

“I love you too.”

And at that moment, even though you’re miles apart, even though you haven’t seen each other, even though there’s no photo of you both at your graduation… you know this day will live in your memory as one of the most beautiful ever.

Only three days have passed since your graduation, but it feels like an eternity. After the call with Ollie, everything was bittersweet: you knew he loved you, you knew he tried, but not being able to hug him that day hurt more than you thought.

And you accepted it. You learned to let go of the idea of “the perfect moment.”

Today is Sunday, and you’re at home, in pajamas, watching a documentary you’re barely listening to. Your family is out. You have the house to yourself. Your phone is silent. You don’t even know what country Ollie is in now.

Someone rings the doorbell.

You frown. A package? A neighbor? You get up dragging your feet, expecting anything but what you see when you open the door.

“Hi, love.”

And there he is.

With his suitcase at his side, a cap crooked on his head, hair messy like he just ran out of the airport. His eyes lock onto yours like he can’t believe he’s really seeing you. Like he’s afraid you’re part of a jet-lagged dream.

And you… you’re frozen in shock.

“Ollie,” you whisper.

“I didn’t want to miss another important thing. I took the first flight after the GP. I just arrived. I couldn’t tell you. My battery died, I lost signal, then I got lost in the airport… but… I’m here. And I don’t care how I look now, or that I don’t have a gift, or that I’m sweating like crazy. I just needed to see that you were okay.”

Your eyes fill with tears.

And then you run.

You don’t think. You don’t hesitate. You just hug him like your body finally remembers what breathing well means. Like he fits with your chest, your arms, your story.

He laughs into your neck, his hands firm on your back.

“It was so hard not to cry earlier,” he murmurs. “But this… this is a miracle.”

You pull him tighter.

“It’s not a miracle. It’s that you love me.”

He pulls back a little just to look at you. His fingers brush a strand of hair from your face.

“So much.”

“Want to come in?” you ask with a teary smile.

“Only if you give me coffee and a tour of a brilliant graduate.”

“I’ll give you anything. But the tour starts with you hugging me for another half hour.”

“Deal.”

You close the door. He puts down his suitcase. And without another word, you hug again in the hallway, as if the world has finally aligned.

[pineconepie]

CHARACTERS: Octavian, Reader/You

WARNINGS/TAGS: Mostly fluff, brief descriptions of animal cruelty and death (from a movie), blanket forts, modern AU, parental yandere, slight infantilization, cuddling, gender neutral reader

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a commission! To the commissioner, I hope this is satisfactory! <3

"All of these screens are an eyesore," Octavian says, though doesn't resist as you drag him down the technology aisle. His cloak sweeps against his legs with his movements. You both get a lot of weird looks, to which Octavian glares them all down and pulls you close, as if they're giving weird looks at you and not his strange attire.

You smile at him. "Have you ever really seen a TV? Or a phone, for that matter? Anything?"

"Telegraphs are as far as I go, and those things were insufferable," Octavian huffs. "Though I have seen others on their phones many times when in town like now. I just never felt very curious about them."

"Here!" You point out the TVs on display, ranging in different sizes and shapes. Some of them have curved edges while others are so thin they can be mistaken for picture frames. They all play the same scene from some random drama show and none of them seem to hold Octavian's attention. You reach up and tap his nose, "You see how many colors they are? That's much better than a telegraph."

He laughs a little at that. "Sweetheart, anything is better than a telegraph. If this is what you want, I'll get the entire stock." He reaches into his cloak and pulls out an old-fashioned looking billfold.

"We only need one, Papa."

At the check-out, he pays, to which you awkwardly look away from the cashier.

"Sick costume," he says. "Did you guys come from the convention down the street?"

"Sure did," you answer upon seeing Octavian's confused expression. The cashier begins talking to another customer, prompting you to turn to Octavian while he fills out some things. "Are you excited to have some kind of entertainment other than books and gardening?"

"And cooking," he adds, not looking up from struggling with the electronic device. "I have you, though, and that's all the entertainment I need. You keep me on my toes every hour of the day." He finishes his indecipherable signature, making you snort. He sends you a playful glare. "Why on earth is everything digital nowadays? I can't even write my signature on a piece of paper now!"

You roll your eyes fondly.

...

Octavian tries hard to follow the directions you read to him. His eyebrows pinch together in concentration and there's a line between his brows from him wrinkling his nose. He wears reading glasses, which slip down his nose throughout the endeavor. He constantly pushes them back up.

Every time you try to help him, he refuses. "I've got it, Just let Papa handle this."

You're pretty sure he doesn't have it, but you don't dare argue. Instead, you just continue sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the living room floor while reading the directions.

Finally, after a grueling hour and thirty minutes, Octavian triumphantly stands back and looks at the TV propped against the wall. You grab the remote beside you, scooting up on your knees, and press the power button.

The screen comes on, much to your relief. Octavian lets out a big sigh as if he'd been holding his breath during the entire set-up process.

"So... what now?" Octavian asks.

"Now, we build our cozy little blanket fort in front of the TV and watch movies." You grin widely at him and put down the remote. You pick up the two bags filled with blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, and everything you bought for movie night. Well, Octavian was the one to do the buying, but you picked out everything.

"Let me do that, silly," he chuckles and grabs them from you. You stand back up, ready to protest, but he wags a finger at you before turning away to start setting up.

You think about helping, but then remember how stubborn he gets whenever you try to make things easier for him.

Once everything is set up, Octavian turns around with open arms. "Well? How is it? Does this pass inspection, Your Highness?" There's a mock bow to finish off.

Instead of answering him right away, you duck down and crawl into the little fort made of soft sheets and blankets. Inside, it's very spacious— much bigger than any blanket forts you ever made as a kid. In here, the cushions are soft and inviting and warm.

"It passed," you tell him as you wiggle around, searching for the perfect spot. Octavian makes his way in and lays himself across from you.

"How do we work this thing?" he asks, picking up the remote.

"Oh, right." You crawl out of the fort to grab the bag, showing him the movies that were on sale. "They were buy three get one free. For your first movie ever, I'd like you to do the honors of choosing."

He squints at each one like it's a foreign language. All of them are animated children's movies from the past thirty years or so. You're afraid anything more than a lighthearted kids cartoon would be too much for him, rather than yourself.

"The Fox and the Hound, The Princess and the Frog, Ponyo, and The Land Before Time," he reads aloud. He looks mildly concerned. "These are all age-appropriate, right?"

"I think your mind can handle these all, so yes."

"I meant for you, dear." He picks The Fox and the Hound movie case. "When I was younger, still a human, I had a bloodhound that looks like the dog here." You can't resist smiling at how cliche that sounds. Octavian puts the case down. "Ah, before we start, should I make some snacks?"

"Snacks!" you repeat happily and start getting up, but he pushes you back down gently.

"I'll make them, sweetling," he says. "Just stay here and wait, okay? Don't start the movie without me!" There's a playful spark in his eyes before he starts toward the kitchen.

"I won't, I won't," you laugh.

Barely five minutes later, he comes back with a bowl full of popcorn and two glasses balanced on the same tray. He's careful when he gives them to you.

As he pops open the DVD player and slides the disk inside, you notice him struggle with getting everything just right. You know he doesn't want you helping him, so instead you just lean back and pop pieces of popcorn into your mouth.

There's a few minutes of shuffling around and fiddling with the buttons, then the screen brightens and music begins playing. Octavian hurries back to the fort, careful not to step on any of the pillows and blankets. Finally, he settles in beside you, wraps an arm around your shoulder, and pulls you close to his chest.

The usual trailers started to play.

At a trailer for the Beauty and The Beast sequel, Octavian points. "Oh, that one looks lovely. I would love to see that when it comes out."

You shake your head fondly. "It's been out for probably two decades at least." Once again, his amazed expression is amusing.

The beginning scene starts, and Octavian is already clutching you closer. "The mother fox is going to be killed!"

"Papa, it's not real, don't worry," you reassure.

Octavian's expressions change rapidly, already emotionally invested from the first few seconds. He lifts you into his lap to cradle you like a baby when the mother fox hides her baby away to save him from the dog chasing her. His clutch tightens when the gunshots go off, insinuating her death. His wide-eyed stare of horror almost makes you feel bad.

"Are all movies like this?" he asks in horror.

"No," you answer. "But older movies like these were a bit more violent than most of today's movies meant for kids." You pat his chest lightly in reassurance.

"It has a happy ending at least, right?"

"Uh..." you trail off. "No spoilers."

Though he continues clutching you during moments of tension in the movie, his reactions make it worth the discomfort. You find yourself focusing more on him than the actual story. During every sad or remotely violent scene, Octavian covers your eyes with his palm.

His reactions end up feeling more like the movie rather than the one being played by the TV. Octavian does not have a good poker face at all, even if he were trying to subdue his reactions to each scene.

Despite it being a little intense, there are a lot of sweet scenes too, to which Octavian relaxes and stares at the television, absentmindedly petting your hair and kissing your forehead. His affectionate gestures are also distracting, but it feels nice to just be held like this after such a long day.

"Who's your favorite so far?" you ask.

He thinks about it briefly. "The owl, but I also do love Tod. I'll cry if anything happens to him. I definitely do not like that hunter." It makes you smile seeing how strongly he feels for the characters.

For the entire hour and a half, Octavian's reactions range from sorrow to shock to laughter to anger to amusement.

After the final scene plays and the credits begin, he stares at the TV. "That's... it? I thought they'd be friends again and live off somewhere happier!"

"It's a bittersweet ending."

He dramatically sighs, resting his cheek on top of your head. "That was the saddest thing ever. You broke my heart, (Y/n). Are you proud of yourself? You broke your poor father's heart." Despite this, he doesn't seem truly upset, just acting as if he were heartbroken.

"Well, this is your first-ever movie! If you didn't end up sobbing your heart out, then it wouldn't count as a successful movie experience." You snuggle closer against him. "Did you like it?"

"I loved it, believe it or not. Can we watch another one?" He hugs you even closer. "Something happier this time, for heaven's sake."

"Ponyo it is!"

[cynosdaydream]

knight!sylus x royalty!reader sneaking away into the garden to shower each other in affection

ROYAL UNDERCOVER!

When the world gets too loud, your loyal knight will always be there to save you.

Now playing: Moon - The Cab

Word count: 1.4k Author's Note: Here you go! I'm really sorry this took so long to get out, my mid-term exams just finished. This is totally not proof read as I am looking at my computer screen through blurry eyes at 12am, so feel free to dm me if there are any errors. enjoy :) Desc: knight!sylus x royalty!reader, fluff, escaping from royal bums, dancing under the moonlight type shit, nothing much really it's just fun teasing n happy stuff yayy

The atmosphere in the foreign ballroom was suffocating. Noble and royalty alike were dressed to the nines, pearls and jewelry reflecting the light from the enormous chandelier. People were mingling, music was playing, and drinks were flowing.

As lavish and glamorous as this event seemed, you felt overwhelmed. It had been hours, and your head was pounding. You couldn't even remember what the purpose of the event was at this point-- 'something about a King's birthday...?' You thought, trying to recall the details on the piece of parchment that your family had received.

"My lady, are you feeling alright?" A hushed voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and a lock of silvery hair brushed against your ear. Ah, Sylus, your knight. He had been your knight since the both of you were children, so he knew you from the inside out. Your parents tried suggesting a change of your personal knight in the past, or even having an additional knight by your side so you could get familiar with the other guards in the castle. However, you were always quick to shut down the idea, insisting that Sylus was doing his job perfectly. As for the additional knights that your parents tried to implement, they usually lasted a few weeks by your side before they seemed to get scared away by something...

"The air here is suffocating." You breathed, tapping your fingers impatiently on the glass you were holding. You gazed at the contents inside, wondering if you should take a sip, but the sickly sweet scent of the drink quickly demolished that idea. "I wish to leave, but alas, I have to keep up appearances."

Sylus smirks. "How unfortunate." His tone suggests that he has no intention of helping you find a way out, but you knew him better than that. Sylus scans across the room, searching for a way to exit discreetly. After a few beats of silence between the two of you, he spots a door at the corner of the crowded ballroom, and leads you to it wordlessly. He lets you step outside first, and before he exits himself, he looks around, making sure that no one saw you two.

The outdoor air felt deliciously refreshing on your skin. After hours of being cooped up in the ballroom, this was the best thing you could have asked for. The night sky, littered with glittering stars and constellations, was a pleasant change from the glaring and overstimulating crystal ceiling of the castle. You weren't familiar with the layout of the foreign castle, but you could recognize that the place that you were in was the royal gardens. Carefully trimmed bushes and flourishing roses lined the paths, leading to various places.

"Where shall we go, my darling knight?" You inquired, turning to face Sylus. He rolls his eyes at the nickname, but ultimately lists a few options. "There's a flower display with a fountain to our left, and a pond with a gazebo to our right. It's up to you, lady __." You ponder for a moment, and you ended up deciding on the gazebo.

It wasn't a long walk from the castle, but it put enough distance between you and the ballroom to ease your headache from the noise. The once overwhelmingly loud chatter from the ballroom dimmed into a faint hum in the background.

The garden was beautiful, breathtakingly so. A circular pond made up most of the section you had walked into, reflecting the twinkling stars, with a short bridge connecting to the gazebo. Even though there were railings along the bridge, your knight still gingerly took your hand as he guided you across.

Despite the darkness of the night, the warm lanterns hung around the gazebo emitted just enough light for you to see the various lily pads floating on the water and the koi fish swimming underneath. You reached over the railings from where you sat to skim your fingers along the surface of the water, admiring how the light seemed to dance and sway along with your movements.

When you turn around to face Sylus, you find that he is already looking at you.

"Come sit, what are you doing just standing there?" You laugh playfully, clasping his hands in yours to drag him to sit beside you. Smiling gleefully, you say, "Isn't this wonderful? The atmosphere here feels so different from just ten minutes ago. The lighting here also gives me less of a headache then that giant crystal ball they call a chandelier." Sylus nods in agreement, crimson eyes still fixed on you.

You tilt your head, curious about why he wasn't saying anything.

"The lighting from the lanterns makes you look even more beautiful, your grace." He mumbles it quietly, but you still catch it anyway. Sylus looks away, seemingly embarrassed, and you decide to tease him just a little. "What? I didn't quite catch that, my ears are still ringing from the music in the ballroom." You start, cupping your hands around your ears.

He glances back at you, mouth pressed into a thin line. Of course he could tell you were joking, but his ears turned the slightest bit red anyway. Sylus hesitates for a moment before repeating himself louder. "I said, the lighting here enhances your beauty, princess ___." He says gruffly, clearing his throat.

Smiling, you lean on his shoulder and hook your arm around his. "That's good to hear. Thank you, Sylus." He simply nods.

The both of you sit like that in silence for a while, and you were starting to get bored. You didn't know when the party would end, but from the way the silhouettes of the orchestra were still fervently moving, you guessed it wasn't anytime soon. Your eyes darted around the surroundings, before you finally got an idea.

"Sylus, let's dance!" You propose, getting up and tugging him up with you. Your knight quirks an eyebrow at you. "Why the sudden burst of energy?" He asks.

"I'm bored to half-death, and it would be a waste of good music to let this moment slip by!"

"I thought you said that the music was giving you a splitting migraine just now?"

"...whatever. Just get up here and dance with me, please?"

You knew that he wouldn't refuse. He never did.

"Alright, at least let me ask you formally first. It would be rude of me not to." Sylus grins. "Lady ___, would you let me have this dance?"

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his hand in yours and letting him spin you around. The two of you danced for a good while, twirling and prancing around with uncoordinated steps. After all, there were no nobles or royals around to watch you, so all normal dancing etiquette was thrown out of the window. As a knight, Sylus wasn't even supposed to be dancing with you like this, a protective hand on your waist and fingers intertwined with yours.

After what felt like forever, the both of you finally stopped dancing, stamina drained from silly leaps in the air and overly exaggerated twirls. Out of breath, you looked up at Sylus and grinned. Obviously, he wasn't as exhausted as you, but his hair was the perfect balanced between tousled and neat. You threw your arms around his shoulders and smiled into his jacket, suddenly overcome with a wave of appreciation for him.

"Thank you, Sylus. For all of this. It really means a great deal to me." Your voice was muffled. As his arms snake around you, you hear his voice, "No need to thank me, I was only doing my duty as your knight, your gr-"

You cut him off, telling him that it was alright to use your name as it was just the two of you around. And you swore you could hear the proud smirk in his voice as he said, "Alright, ___. I'll do whatever you say." You could feel your face warm up due to Sylus' silky smooth voice, and you suddenly felt oddly flustered.

So you did the first thing that came to mind.

You slipped out of his arms and started running back to the palace, yelling out behind you. "People-- are going to get-- suspicious if we're gone for -- too long!" You shout between breaths, tripping on your precariously long skirt every few seconds.

Even though you could see him pinch his nose bridge and sigh in frustration, it was hard to miss the adoring glint in his eyes as he hurriedly ran to catch up with you.

--

additional a/n: I was GOING to make this angst, but i can't be miserable forever

[alexanderlightweight]

For writing Wednesday:

I know you only just posted the first part an hour ago, but maybe malec meeting and bonding in your new sentinel/guide au? Or magnus reacting to alec's childhood in the new sentinel/guide au. I really liked the first part and I'm weirdly fond of sentinel/guide AUs.

If you don't want to write any more sentinel/guide stuff, maybe something about how Alec growing up in the New York Institute made him weirdly connected to the wards or angelic core.

Your writing is a major highlight of my week! Please make sure to get some proper rest and dring lots of water!

Either nsfw or sfw is good

no you're good! I ended up having a flareup last night that hit pretty bad. I took my meds and got through it but I couldn't think straight so I'm finishing now, today lol there's a piece that goes before this here because you are not the only one who asked for more! and I love sentinel/guide au's so like, I definitely get being weirdly fond since i'm extremely weirdly into the trope.

thank you! I am definitely working to hydrate and drink water not just tea today! I hope you hydrate as well and have a good day and everyone who reads this! drink and rest <3

i hope you enjoy <3 lumine

currency of fate

Magnus frowns at the way his magic is tugging frantically at his levels, trying to beg for more magic yet he refuses. Recognizing exactly which one of his many wards are currently running out and unwilling to assign more of his magic to shadowhunters.

Fifteen minutes later, Magnus catches a fire message out of the air and when he goes to ignore it, Cahya’s growl deters him.

There’s a moment where Magnus meets eyes the same blue as his magic and then he rereads the message carefully. 

“You want us to go there, despite insisting we ignore everything to do with the Institute for almost two decades?”

Cahya growls, a stubborn note to the rumble.

“Then off we shall go.” Magnus steps into his closet to change and instead, his clothes are magically swapped. Cahya is unrepentant as they impatiently nudge Magnus and well, they have impeccable taste and are unwilling to wait.

Magnus’ outfit is dark, elegant and deadly.  It’s a statement piece of power and wealth and Magnus wears it with ease as he summons a portal and appears just outside the Institute doors. It’s with a sigh that he straightens his back and lets a smirk grow across his mouth.

The doors don’t open until Magnus flares his magic but there’s no one on the other side, in fact it isn’t until he’s already down the corridor that he hears voices at all. 

“Sentinel Bane!” There’s a call of recognition as a shadowhunter with dark, shoulder length twists greets him.  He’s clearly worried even as he nods to Magnus, politely refraining from offering his hand. 

“There’s a problem with the power levels of the wards, correct?” Magnus doesn’t want to waste time, he wants to get to the bottom of the issue so he can hunt down whatever is causing the restlessness in his soul to wake up.

“No, the wards are a problem but the real problem is Alec and his guide abilities and how the wards are isolating him.”

“What?” Magnus needs to be certain he heard that correctly. 

“Alec Lightwood, the Head and Commander, he’s a guide. We can’t get anyone close to him and the wards are shutting down in a pattern that’s locking us in our Institute but away from him. Medical can’t reach him and everyone who got past the wards before lockdown started are already unconscious from Alec’s abilities.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

None of it.

Magnus would have known if there was a nephilim guide on his territory, he couldn’t have been hidden under Magnus’ own wards. There is no reason for his own magic to betray him so intimately. There’s a slim chance the guide recently came online, or is visiting from Idris, but Magnus still should have been able to feel or at least notice them.

“Why wasn’t his pride called?”

“He doesn’t have one. I can’t tell you why, it’s classified and I don’t personally know.” The implication is he’d tell Magnus if he did know is not unappreciated.  “They said restraining and healing magic are our best hope and as local Archon, you shouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?”

“He’s powerful and the sentinel who caused this had been decently powerful. The Clave sent him through from Idris but he was sent back catatonic before the wards started to rampage.”

Cahya growls and flicks their round ears before knocking a large paw into Magnus’ calf followed by a hurried snap of their teeth in the air. Impatience suddenly sharp as the frost beading on their silver fur.

“Oh.”

There would be a reason, and not one that could be considered a betrayal. In fact it explains why Magnus magic is so desperately trying to sequester the guide, to hide him away from intruders or other sentinels.

Sentinel’s who aren’t Magnus if what Magnus thinks is right.

Magnus portals through the shuddering and quickly closing wards.  

They are locking in on themselves, just as the nephilim at the entry said. The fragmented magic was running out of power and it latched on the angelic core like a leech. Layering shields around the shadowhunter guide, his surroundings and finally the very Institute.

—

Alec tries to forget the rage trembling through his body, tries to clear his mind and ignore the fact that the Clave is pushing their agenda on him. There’s a strange noise that the wards don’t react to and a presence Alec doesn’t recognize is suddenly in the same space as him.

Alec’s mind reacts first and yet instead of a foreign intrusion, he’s met with nothing but familiar comfort and his mind unravels, reaching out to pool against the stronger power. It’s slightly different from what already guards his mind, but it’s too familiar for Alec to be thwarted.

It’s exactly what he needs after the slick, disgusting feeling of someone else's mind trying to influence his own from earlier.

“Oh darling, do you even know what you’re asking for?”

The voice is rich and makes Alec feel like he can do or ask for anything. It also doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know the words for what he wants, when he knows instinctively it’s what he needs.

“I’ll settle you enough to get you out of here. Then I’ll bond you properly.” 

—-

Magnus' mind luxuriates in the feel of rich, raw energy nestling against him and his senses instantly calm. Layers upon layers of Alec... Alexander's mind wraps around him in protective defense. The restlessness is purged, instead being replaced by urgency.

Magnus frowns as his guide growls, clearly displeased by the suggestion and the fact that Magnus isn’t yet touching him.  However, the last thing Magnus wants to do is bond to his guide in an unfamiliar and dangerous location, no matter that his magic is wreathed about the Institute.

The euphoria of being right, of having his guide here and now and already begging to be his — as if he hasn’t always been. Considering that Magnus can already feel the reciprocal energy of shields on his boy’s mind and doubts Alexander’s ever been anything but his.

Magnus knows that with his own tendency to go feral and the way Alexander’s rage coils like veins of lava bubbling beneath the surface that he should go for the kind of bond that will stabilize them. However Magnus has always been accused of being ‘too much’ and perhaps, he wants to prove people right.

In his own special way, of course.

After all, it’s a gift from Magnus, a choice that he’s making, to ensure someone else is correct for once.

So as much as Magnus wants to fuck Alexander through the Institute’s floor and sear their bond into existence and would be happy to do so. He also doesn’t want to share a single moment of their bonding euphoria with any shadowhunter beyond the one that’s his.

“I’m going to leave a note and then I’ll take you somewhere we can bond.”

Alexander grumbles at the delay, his familiar echoing displeasure and then a sharp-toothed maw and soft muzzle nudge Magnus’ fingers as if in acceptance.

Which is sweet, because no how much Magnus wants to sink his senses into Alexander here and now, he can’t with the knowledge and sense input of all the enemies around him.

AN:

typically sentinel/guides kind of project emotions when bonding etc and Magnus doesn't want to share that sensation. he could share it with his own pride as like a morale boost but he might not ever share that.

Alec is dissociating right now because after another year of ignoring attempts, the Clave sent one of the sentinels who work more directly under their influence to uh... seduce him. It didn't work and Alec's mad and the wards had a panic because they don't want to risk losing Alec for Magnus' sake and Alec's safety.

i'll get more into descriptions later, Cahya is ice natured as a representation of Magnus' future guide and Jayr is fire natured for the same reason

[ma1dita]

window shopping

'between certainties and doubts' installment & part of the mean!remus agenda, aka a moment from a terrifyingly convoluted teenage situationship between remus lupin and an unidentified Hogwarts student (x fem!reader) wc: 1.3k  a/n: a day trip with remus takes a bit of a turn. slight-mdni, talk about sex toys and him imagining you) anyways spencer's existed back then, but wasn't in the uk....but i don't care, fuck accuracy enjoy! feel free to send requests for them!

—

The car horn blares out front, making you drop your mascara tube and sending it rolling across the floor of your grandmother’s guest room.

“Shit,” you mutter, bending down from the vanity to reach for it in your rush to meet Remus downstairs.

He honks again, for longer this time—your head crashes against the wood of the desk and you howl in alarm.

“Darling, I think your boy is waiting for you outside! He’s gonna scare the neighbors!” Even so, you can hear the smile in her voice wafting up from the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon rolls spreading through the house.

“Tell him off Mimi! Almost ready,” you call out as you scramble to powder your face before leaving. By the time you’ve slipped your sandals on and checked yourself in the mirror for the last (fifteenth) time, you catch the tail end of your grandmother squeezing Remus’ reddening cheeks as he idles in the doorway.

“Could hear you speeding down the hill even without my hearing aids on,” she says with a sparse laugh, the years she’s lived folding into the creases that carry her smile, “Be safe you two, and get back here in one piece!”

“Yes, Mi. See you later,” he says with a grin, pulling you by the hand and intertwining your fingers as you release yourself from the old woman’s hold. You skip down the pathway with matching excitement and then he’s holding the car door open to let you slip in.

When he makes it around the car to get to the driver’s seat, you’ve pulled the car mirror down and open to finish your makeup, applying your blush and lip liner. The car starts with a roar, black smoke popping out from the exhaust. He’s shaking his head and chuckling as he looks back toward the road.

“What?” you say, eyes darting between the side of his face and the extreme focus it takes to smear your lips in a smooth coat of gloss.

“‘ve already seen you. No need for all of that, lovely. You look pretty today,” he reasons, a rough hand making its way over the console to play with the threads of your denim skirt. Smirking, you shut the mirror and flip the visor back up. You squeeze your thighs around his hand on what must be instinct or muscle memory, or both.

“I’m doing this to look good for myself, you know? Not everything’s about you,” you tease, your tongue rolling against the skin of your teeth to hold back a smile. The music is low in the background, the lush green hills of the Welsh countryside stretching out as far as you can see across the horizon. Remus rolls his eyes at that, grabbing your hand that’s still clutching your lipgloss tube and pressing a kiss against it. The other is still rubbing at what’s sure to become a bump on your head from earlier.

“S’that?”

“You rushing me earlier. Hit myself on a knob.”

It barely hurts anymore, just stings when you prod at it—but Remus is pulling over into the grass and you look at him in confusion, “Rem?”

He’s flipped the blinkers on and tugs you toward him to kiss your temple right where it hurts. You swear it’s like slathering the bump with Bruisewart balm, or maybe your brain’s done a hard reset at the feeling of his lips on your skin. When your eyes flutter open, he’s pressed another on your nose. You’re giggling now, and he seals the sound with a kiss on your lips—nevermind the fact his own now shimmer sweetly once he pulls back to look at you.

“Hi,” he murmurs, face stretching to a grin as you swipe his mouth with your thumb softly.

“Get back on the road, Lupin.”

—

“Civilization!”

Remus is pulling into the parking lot of the mall about an hour later, and you look like you’re ready to jump out the window and kiss the concrete. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen anything that resembles the city, and this outing is proof of that.

No one would want to be stuck in the countryside of Mold forever, after all.

“Alright, come on now,” he says, looping his arm with yours and the car locks with a beep beep!

Window shopping can actually be quite fun, Remus realizes—as the many times he’s done it before with his mam was because they were short on money, or when he’s with his boys, he’d have to tussle for them to not buy him things. His pockets had always been a bit lighter than most, especially considering that he goes to one of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world.

He’s gotten used to it—but now he’s finding the fun in traipsing through stores with you and trying stupid things on for the hell of it. Neither of you are planning to buy anything from Selfridges, but he does enjoy sitting outside the waiting room and watching you come out in different outfits like it’s his own private show.

Of course, he sneaks backstage for a bit when the attendant goes on break.

Both your feet ache by the time you’ve made your way to the top floor of the mall, and still you look at everything in wonder. There’s a tiny assortment of things you purchased for your siblings in paper bags around the arm that Remus isn’t holding onto you with.

“What is this? Knockturn Alley?” he mumbles as you walk through the doorway of Spencer’s Gifts. The neon lighting casts a purple and red sheen on your hair as you walk past the walls of shirts and novelty items without looking back.

“It’s a fun store, Rem. Like Muggle Zonko’s.”

One second, he’s looking up at an iridescent lava lamp and marijuana leaves printed on shot glasses and the next second—you’re gone. The music is blaring overhead and Remus squints, looking over the tops of the aisles to try to see you in the dark store.

Merlin, they should turn the lights up in here.

He finds you in the corner, squeezing your shoulder, “Can’t run away like that, lovely. Thought I lost you.” Turning to him with a mischievous look, you pout jokingly, “Aww, is wittle Remus scared of the dark?” He scoffs and pokes at your side, hugging you from behind and nuzzling your hair.

“Whatcha lookin’ at any—Oh.”

You’re scanning over a wall of personal care items, a bunch of things he’s never seen or never even imagined, though he’s definitely accidentally kicked open the small box under Sirius’ bed in the dorm. Nothing compares to what he’s seeing here though—machines shaped like roses, glowing silicone, throat-numbing spray and—Holy Helga, that can fit in where?

You’re not facing him, hands securing his on your stomach as you arch your back toward him and he knows in his gut and the burning sensation that’s rising in his core that you’re getting such joy from throwing him off-guard like this.

“Needed to get new batteries for my rabbit. Or maybe something new, as a treat?”

“For who?” he smirks, stamping a kiss onto your collarbone at the idea of you playing with yourself in your nan’s guest room, fingers slick as you rub against your toy and muffle your moans into your pillow.

Or maybe you moan into the quiet of the night, knowing no one can hear. Remus’ throat dries up like a desert in an instant.

“Earth to Remus.”

“Hmm?” he mumbles, clearing his throat. His jeans are uncomfortably tight, firm against your backside as you crane your head up to look at him, “Ready to go?”

He grabs the small, pink bullet out of your hand and places it back on the shelf—picking out a blue remote controlled one instead, with his other hand still grazing your waist.

And then he makes his first and only purchase of the day.

—

i don't do taglists anymore!! follow @ma1dita-mail & turn on notifs :))

[houseofshy]

My First Offering - An Embroidery

This is the jeans jacket I hand embroidered for the Sleep Token concert back in December 2024.

The project took me about 6 months to complete, with a longer break in between.

It was quite a process, which I will describe below, if anyone is interested in that. If there are still questions, don't hesitate to reach out and I will answer to the best of my abilities, as I am by no means a professional :D

So. It started out as a little thought. I have that old jeans jacket collecting dust in my closet, and I want to upgrade that. Said, done.

I get a cheap pack of embroidery needles, even cheaper embroidery floss (which I regretted at one point, but I will explain that later on) and an old embroidery frame from my mother-in-law.

And then it was go time.

I started tracing the big logo in the middle. Seeing as I have absolutely no talent in drawing, I'm very glad that tracing on a tablet is an option :)

Printing that out, I taped the shape to the middle of the back piece and drew along the rim with a heaterasable pen. You can get that at any store that sells those pens with a rubber tip to erase the ink :D

After that, I set out to embroider the entire logo. It is made entirely with a satin stitch.

If there is any interest, I can explain different stitches in a seperate post :)

That took about 2-3 weeks to finish, as I work full-time, and weekends sometimes as well. Also, let's be real, I was so very slow ! But when I finished, I was so proud of myself, as it was my very first piece.

But ever the over achiever, I let it sit for a few days, before I thought "I can do more."

So, back to planning.

I sampled a lot of patterns and decided for this. It looked cool, but I wasn't sure I would complete it in time.

However, my mom did a lot of things wrong, but she didn't raise a quitter, so I got my shit together and started this enourmous project.

I ordered transfer paper online and printed everything out on there. It sticks to the material, and you can embroider on it and wash it off when you are finished.

I started with the more simple patterns, as the glyphs or the vines. Looked pretty solid, and I was extremely satisfied with my work, as well as my gained skill and haste.

Now that was the problem.

It looked so pretty at this point to me, that I was afraid of messing it up, so I fell into a bad headspace and stopped working on it for at least 8 weeks.

By now, it was end of July, so time was running out fast, considering the biggest part, the mirrored roses, still had to be done.

I got my shit back together thanks to my bestie, and started a trail run for colour scheme.

I was so happy that it looked exaktly like I imagined, and got motivation from that.

ADHD hyperfocus ON !

So I embroidered...

And embroidered (with some cat cuddles)..

And I was finally done !!

Only to realise that I have to do it ALL again on the other side !

I was about to cry, because just one single double coloured rose head took about 5-6 hours to make.

One entire rose side took me 4 weeks to finish D:

So, in the warm summer evenings, I sat on the balcony and got to work.

At least I knew what to do now and didn't have to think about that anymore.

No think, just stitch.

And one month later, I was actually finished !!

By the end of September I was done, thankfully much earlier than anticipated.

Now I simply had to wash off the water dissolvable transfer paper.

I did handwash it, but there was some glue residue left, so I had to bite the bullet and put it in the washer.

Those thirty-something minutes were terror. I was afraid the stitches won't hold, or the residue won't come off.

But thankfully, it was alright, and I let it dry out in the sun.

Now I wear that jacket whenever I can !! I love it so much.

I got quite a few compliments, especially at the London gig.

But the best one was when I went shopping for more high quality floss in a local craft store, and older lady complimented the jacket, and told me she was happy that the youth keeps things like that alive.

So, I made it a permanent hobby and already started another project on here that I will want to update regularly.

Thank you for reading, and feel free to ask away :D

Ps.: If you read this far, maybe leave a humble like or reblog ? <3

Thank you; A. \(^o^)/

[abbotjack]

HEYY, I'm not here to ask but to let you know that I'm very grateful that you exist (let me kiss you and your chubby brain) that I've got to read your works about Abbot, like you've made my day literally, maybe for a week even.

Like I'm fixing my body clock, woke up by 0200 like shit, and I never regret not going back to sleep because that's how I encountered your first work.

You've made me cry for like a solid hour. Like the 'life we grew' he began to notice. Which I'm gonna praise you honestly.

I love when a writer posts part two and tags part one (sounds basic, but that detail in every post helps me to navigate where and when it starts)

I first saw part 2 but you'd recommend reading part one so I did. You really portray him so diligently, you portray him so perfectly with the exact words. like woahh wait a minute I need to breathe some air, this thing wrecking the hell outta me.

But the Camouflage Onesie? You've made me somthin'. I used to be a fast reader but this part of the series took me an hour and a half to finish. (I stopped in every part that 'amazes' me and imagine the scenario that you've written) Jack's giving the vibes where he finally met his other behalf, like "life is long when one is alone..." uhm vow speech, sortaaa.

Like you know when you've been given a plate of food that you love duperr much and you're savouring every moment while having it in front of you, that's how you made me feel while reading that. I've got to pause reading and thinking about more of it, imagination gone wild.

The bold and big font for weeks, the detailed, descriptive words you used, on how you elaborate week by week they go on through is so magnificent.

The proper spacing for every paragraph to sentences and even dialogue (that's good details that keeps me invested in reading. It doesn't make me feel overwhelmed, which eases my adhd and thank you for that!)

I just noticed that the time passed me by so quickly because the window got a bit brighter from the outside and realized that it was 0630 something.

And I've got to read your pin post about yourself and that was totally understandable, quite amazing for some reason that observing the time stamp from your works. You still have 400+ unread messages yet when I scan through your works. DAMN 11k words, 5k? Like dude how do you have the willpower to make that long story.

And by the span of the whole month you have a master list about Abbot (Pope) and also Robby. That's so cool, really!!!

___

As of today, I wanna show gratitude for keeping me (and the others well fed)

when you drop Sticky Fingers, Quiet Mornings. DUDDEEE, seeing a man being emotionally vulnerable is remarkably insightful!! It hits hard when Jack feels that her daughter doesn't need him when putting on her shoes. when her daughter needs him when she got a cold, having that feeling that he needs to be right fucking there, the moment she wokes up with a fever. I have many favorite moments from your stories. But apparently, every sequence and interlude that you've written is well made. It’s rare for a fic to ‘eat’ this consistently—every scene devoured, no crumbs left. Like when you're watching a movie, there would be a boring timeline or not an engaging scene, but your's? It was like a last drop of honey, too sacred to waste. I just love everything about you and your work.

another is Irregularities, like yow are you ok?? After part four, you've dropped the prequel for like 3 days after the other. You've finished almost 14k words in a short span of time? 😭😭, you're too powerful, consuming your work means to feel this visceral thing, and that 101% guarantee. The chronological order, it never missed any beat! And again the spacing for each line. Plus what I've read from your anon ask. Like how did you put your real world experience to make the character ultra realistic. Damn. On how you imprinted yourself with it. I have nothing to say:’). Everytime you drop another piece of art. It makes me smile and click it immediately.

When this anon asks about your motivation?? You've explained too specifically, from generalizing to elaborating the reasons, the narrative. I can't, you're too good on how you express everything. Your prof is real when he says you're gifted when it comes to writing, I totally agree!!

I've read that you ship WALSH AND JACK, SYDD, (I saw it from one of the a bit mean anon who despises shipping them) I'll be honored to devour any piece of your works when it comes to them!! I do wonder if you have plans about it, like just a one story>_< (just one). Yet there this anon that asked you about what was there background and you elaborate, the convergence, alliance. I adore how you've managed to think of it that way.

Plus your plan about Jack and her wife having a twin?? I mean I am very delighted, though I just thought about the genders of their little cubs.

It could add another flavor to your story so much. Correlating it to psychology, you clicked something in me. I remembered in class about Karen Horney, her conducted study about women, opposing Freud’s view about females. She did talk about parent-child relationships. On how emotional needs of early childhood could affect your child's behavior. Yet she didn't formalize cross-gender parent bonding that daughters are closer to their dad while the son is closer to their mother. I hope you understand what I am trying to say, (I am bad at explaining). Like I imagine how everything will go. Gender matters because it requires Jack different approach, maybe not from the start but as they grow up. It just intrigued me on how you will write about that. A bit excited, yess

It takes me weeks before finally sending this to you, (I am not great when it comes to writing and it will take me eternity to write another thing, academically or for personal occurrence). uuhmm it made me curious of who you are but that's another boundary.

All I know or maybe to properly conclude that you were in college maybe last year? Or a fresh graduate and being an intern in your new job, (if you are currently in a job, I wanna say CONGRATULATIONS).

This info's source was from your anon asked which I love to read.

I don't know which continent or country were you but your works reached Asia (south-eastern and eastern Asia).

I don't, really don't want to sound like a creep. (If this long ask overwhelmed you, in any way. You could leave it in your ask box, sending you a dm is a bit creepy so I'll leave it r'ght here) Your writing makes me and the other reader have this euphoric sensation. I wanted to say more than this but I am lost for words. But to sum it all up, I just want to express bone-deep gratitude for your existence and your piece!!

I noticed every tiniest bit. And you deserve a good appreciation for it babee... just glad about everything. Please be hydrated all the time<33

edit : also I did start a walsh x abbot fanfic!

I’ve been sitting with your message for a while.

Not because I didn’t know how to respond—but because I did. And I wanted to do it properly. I wanted to slow down and really write back. Because you didn’t just drop a quick compliment in my inbox—you gave me time. You gave me care. You gave me you. And that deserves more than a quick thank you and a couple emojis.

What you wrote hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting. The specificity. The warmth. The thoughtfulness. You took your time with it—stopped and started, saved it to drafts, circled back when your brain allowed. And you sent it anyway. You let it out. That’s not small. That’s the kind of vulnerability most people talk themselves out of.

So here’s me matching that energy back.

I’m Syd. I’m 21, in my last semester of undergrad. I study applied mathematical economics, which is a fancy way of saying I like hard data, systems, and the things people don’t usually associate with softness. But I also have a minor in Women’s and Gender Studies, because I’m constantly trying to balance the measurable with the emotional. The structure with the story.

This summer, I’m working as an intern with a nonprofit in downtown Cleveland, and it’s exactly where I want to be. On the side, I’m also volunteering at a women’s shelter—helping with admin, intakes, programming. Mostly, I just listen.

I’ve sat across from women who’ve walked in with nothing but their kid in a hoodie and a CVS bag of papers. Women who’ve been failed by systems. Women who don’t need to be fixed—just protected. And every time I leave the building, I feel the same thing in my chest that I feel when I write: That overwhelming, steady, quiet knowing that survival doesn’t always look heroic. Sometimes it’s just showing up again the next morning.

That’s what I want to keep doing after I graduate in December. Whether I stay in nonprofit or go back to school for public policy, my goal is D.C.—working in gender advocacy, education policy, or economic justice initiatives. Especially in STEM fields where the gender gap is still treated like an afterthought.

But writing? That’s what I do for myself.

That’s what keeps me tethered when the rest of the world is all spreadsheet and structure.

And Jack Abbot… I still don’t have the right words for what writing him has given me. What you have given me by reading him so closely.

You didn’t just skim. You noticed.

You paid attention to the way I space my lines, how I use font changes to signal time shifts. You caught the way I tag Part 1 in Part 2, not because it’s flashy, but because I care about orientation. I care about the reader knowing where they are, even if they show up in the middle of the story.

Regarding Camouflage Onesie, you said reading that fic felt like savoring a favorite meal. Like sitting with something slow and meaningful. That floored me. Because that’s how I want these stories to feel. I don’t write for the hit of dopamine, or to throw smut at a wall. I write for people like you—the ones who reread sentences. Who imagine the scenes. Who slow down when it hurts.

You said “Jack’s giving the vibes where he finally met his other behalf.” Not “better half.” Not “missing piece.” Other behalf. That choice of words? That’s poetry. That’s something I’ll be quoting for months. Because that’s exactly what I think he feels—that she’s not a fix, but a counterpart. A person who knows how to hold the weight without dropping it.

The fact that Sticky Fingers, Quiet Mornings meant something to you—especially that sequence with the shoes and the fever—makes me feel seen in a way I don’t know how to explain. I wrote that story thinking no one would care about the small moments. That maybe it was too quiet, too soft. But you understood it. Not just emotionally, but viscerally.

And Irregularities… yeah. You caught me in the act with that one. I wrote 14k words in a stretch of 3 days like my life depended on it. No outline. You asked if I was okay—and the honest answer is sometimes, not really. But writing helps me get there!

And the twins… oh, god. You went into Karen Horney and cross-gender attachment theory and you get it. You brought academic language into fanfiction discussion without losing the emotional marrow underneath. That’s rare. That’s brilliant.

Jack with a daughter is one kind of story. It’s about protection, yes, but also softness. Permission. It’s him learning that strength isn’t what makes him worthy in her eyes—it’s presence. It’s the ache of watching her grow into her own body, her own mind, and wondering if she’ll be safe in a world that wasn’t built with her in mind. It’s feminist fatherhood—the kind that doesn’t just “empower” her, but yields to her. That lets her take up space. That teaches her early that no man who truly loves her will ever be intimidated by her strength, her voice, or her “too-muchness.”

But Jack with a son? That’s something else entirely. That’s legacy. That’s the inherited weight of masculinity—the fear of replicating silence, of passing down emotional absence as a blueprint for manhood. It’s staring into a face that looks like his and wondering how to teach gentleness when no one gave it to him. It’s about reparenting himself in real time. It’s the tension of trying to teach a boy that vulnerability is not weakness, while still learning how to believe that himself.

And when I write those dynamics—when I imagine him fumbling through a quiet car ride with his son (soon, spoiler!), or tying his daughter’s shoe with fingers that still shake from trauma—I’m drawing from every article I’ve annotated in my Women’s & Gender Studies courses. From bell hooks writing about men and love. From Adrienne Rich’s concept of motherhood as both institution and experience. From intersectional feminist frameworks that say: gender doesn’t shape who we are—it shapes who we’re allowed to be.

That’s the subtext. That’s the story under the story. And you caught it.

You even noticed the pacing between releases. You tracked the time it took between updates. You didn’t just consume the work—you witnessed it. You treated it like something human. Something that came from somewhere. And I hope you know how rare that is. That kind of presence? That kind of investment? That’s not casual. That’s someone who reads with their whole self. Who brings their own theory, their own tenderness, their own intelligence into the experience.

And I don’t take that lightly. I never will.

If this writing ever gave you something to hold onto—something soft, something steady, something familiar—please know you gave it right back to me tonight.

You said your message sat in drafts for a while. But now it’s here. And it’s real.

Just like you are.

I’ll keep writing for people like you. People who linger. Who underline. Who feel.

Come back when you can. My inbox is always open.

And this—this letter?—is already something I’ll never forget.

p.s. yes, I’m drinking water. yes, I’m still thinking about “other behalf.” yes, I’d write 11k more words just to make you feel like this again!

[thilsiktonix]

your art is lowkey so cute and id love to see edgar and p03 together in your artstyle (if you want to of course ^_^)

ok so by. the time I realized I was going a bit too crazy on what I said would be an "ms paint doodle", I was already in too deep... ;;;;

when I first saw the ask it was 3 hours old, now it's 6 hours, I can't believe I spent 3 hours on MS paint xDD

anyways I still hope you enjoy :3c !!!! I had a bit too much fun on this one

p.s., I'm probably going to only draw solo - Edgar requests from here on. you're still totally free to send in whatever Edgar-related requests you have but I'll probably just do smaller stuff for the rest of these :)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

ON AVERAGE HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO DRAW / RENDER YOUR ART BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE YOU PRODUCE MASTERPIECES LIKE HOTCAKES AND I HAVE SO MUCH RESPECT FOR YOU

ermmmmm it depends !!!! maybe like an hour or two from start to finish if its just a simple drawin' but if it's something fully rendered or im making multiple drawings/a character doodle page maybeeeeee like five-six hours.... idk ....

[snorfbin]

.

[sheeshiki]

many many many thoughts about shadowbringers and lightwardens and sin-eaters. a little thing i've been working on while i go through the expansion..........

[jonny-b-meowborn]

I regret to inform everyone that today I found out I have a Reaction to squeaky toys. Makes me wanna bite and run around

[deus-ex-mona]

it sure has been quite a week

[chiimeraangel]

it's coming up on that time of year where I rewatch Samurai Jack in its entirety...

[racke7]

Huh. I actually managed to finish Divinity 2 for once.

[tonycries]

FEVER FEVER FEVER

Synopsis. Sèx pollen - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, sèx pollen, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, bréeding, making them whímper, oraI (fem), true form Sukuna, Sukuna’s two mouths, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, 7:3 technique, GOJO’S POWERS, matíng presses, overstím, bóndage, first times (Choso), losing control, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Can you guess the title reference heheh?

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - WICKED!

Toji Fushiguro swears he isn’t affected - he swears that stupid, stray technique didn’t actually hit him when finishing off today’s job.

After all, it’s not like he’s some weak, pathetically needy-

“Please, doll.” Toji gasps - he heaves - hot and heavy between your pretty legs. Letting his roughened tongue slide its pathway across that perky scar sitting right on the edge of his white-glossed lip, re-tasting you. Himself. And he can feel the way his overworked tip twitches at that cute wide-eyed gaze of yours, mouth dropping at him begging. “Don’t make me ah- say any of that s-stupid stuff again.”

You huff out a low bout of teasing laughter that makes him flinch, “Hmm, but I don’t think I heard you properly, baby?”

God, he wished he couldn’t smell your sweet saccharine scent fogging up his mind, he wished the mere sound of your honeyed tone didn’t have him gushing out in another sweltering hot wave. Growling, “W-when this is over I swear—”

“Time’s ticking…”

Damn.

“P-please-” The word comes out strangled - pained. “Can I p-put it back inside, ma?”

It’s a beg - a plea.

One that has Toji’s ears flushing an angry red, and his eyes looking up at you tearily in a way that uttered he’d die right now if he didn’t get another taste of your heavenly cunt.

You can barely even start to let your head shake with a nod before a choked-up groan bursts from Toji’s wobbly lips. And he’s flipping you over with one simple push of his large, strong arms attached roughly onto your hips. Pushing your pliantly face into the soft, silken pillows on all fours like he couldn’t bear hearing any more of those sweet sounds of yours. For the sake of his sanity. 

“Yes-” he gasps, digits curling around his thick hilt to guide them into a pretty peck against your cunt. “Yes yes yes yes- finally- ah finally-”

He’s drooling. Still so greedy even after hours now. 

Swollen cock so rawly red and angry, he’s splattering out freshly translucent swashes of precum against your puckered hole. Creamy and drizzled with rings of cum from just before that he hadn’t been able to lap up mere moments earlier. 

Toji couldn’t get enough- he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t think it’s even physically possible. 

“Can’t believe what ya d-do to me-” His words are hushed, unsteady - like they were on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Pressing a lingering trail of kisses down your arched spine, he gulps in your heady pheromones. “-oh, s’not even that fucking p-pollen, ya have no fuckin’ idea.” 

But ah he gets even harder at your scent. Shuddering out a heavy groan, every powerful limb of Toji’s utterly loosening at the way your toasty cunt was hugging him so tightly all over again. You’re being massaged against his mouth-watering abs when he pushes even further in-

“Where the fuck do you think you’re g-going, huh?”

It takes you a few cockdrunken seconds to realize that this is Toji talking to you - deep baritone a few octaves higher, cracking ever-so-slightly at the end in a way you’d never even imagined before. And a few more to recognize that you’d been clawing at the rickety headboard, jittery hips sneaking mere inches away from his ruthless size. 

You’re gasping, letting go immediately. “I-I didn’t mean- you’re just so big, Toji.”

And, truly, he was. 

There’s so much of him.

You didn’t know whether it was the sex pollen that had him fitting out the snug inches of his girth so massively bigger than usual. Strawberry tip red and painting your puffy pussy lips to be dripping wet, it seemed like just the tiniest piston has his rotund head spreading open your taut insides. 

Has Toji’s head reeling. Has him getting angry at the slightly melty recoil that had his bawling tip parting from your insides for a split-second. 

Addicted. 

But this makes Toji hiss, it makes his strong arms wrap around your waist in a vice-like bodylock. Eyes crinkling with watery beads of tears, he catches your lips in a filthy, filthy kiss. “No- don’t fuckin- you can fucking take it- want it- need it, ma, please- think m’gonna die without ya-”

Gripping harshly onto your hips to slam into the very depths of your pussy, he’s feeding your sopping slit with every his girthy inch. All the way until his hefty balls kiss wetly up against your ass. 

THUD!

“Oh shit-” your voice quivers, eyeing the sagging end of the bed. “Toji, you broke the-”

But that didn’t matter to Toji. Why would it?

SLAM!

In fact, it’s the fucking last thing he could think about before swiftly maneuvering your body to press against the fucking floor with a strained gruff. 

And in a split-second, something muscular and weighty is being pressed onto the back of your head. You gasp when you realize that it’s Toji’s foot, angling his gyrating hips perfectly right to swipe an oozing glide of wispy precum down your battered g-spot. 

He’s panting - heaving out, “Heh, s-spread ‘em-” Frantically kneeing apart your limp legs wider, “oh, yeah tha’s it. Shhh sh sh-” You didn’t know whether Toji was trying to soothe you or his greedy self. “Take this f-fuckin’ cock f’me, alright?”

Splaying out one palm midway down your stomach to massage and feel for his riotous nudge, exactly where he could feel himself ramming in for the nth time. Over and over- 

Hmm…maybe this sex pollen wasn’t too bad. 

“W-what?” You’re whirling your bleary gaze over your shoulder to sputter and Toji registers that his drunken mouth has accidentally babbled out loud. 

But the only response you mercifully get is Toji spooning his fingers down to swirl over your neglected clit. A sleazy grin smearing all over his face at the way his thick digits slip and slide from how coated your sensitive nub was with his seed. 

“M’jus’ s-sayin, ma-” he grins, and you feel his tight, cum-filled balls thwack! thwack! thwack! against your overstuffed cunt even harder. More wickedly. “This sex pollen’s making me a bit…hungry again.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7:3

“M-my love-” Nanami hisses through a wince at the way his rich baritone was breaking pathetically - hoarse, choked-up. He’s never felt this way. Never. “J-jus’ one more?”

Never been so greedy. So horny.

Like he’d die if he doesn’t paint your pretty pussy white.

And if the way your husband had you folded into a mean mess of a mating press wasn’t enough to agree, he’s planting a pretty peck right against the battered bullseye of your g-spot with his swollen tip. Hard. 

The spongy cushion making him collapse onto his elbows with a groan, repeating his same, syrupy mantra. “Please o-one more-”

Nanami’s stamina was incredible by itself but now?

Now it had you blinking back your sobbing tears, swiping away the sweat-dampened strands of blond from his face with a trembly hand, “Only one more?”

Oh, Nanami’s voice opens to agree, his lips crack open to repeat them- those words barely babbling out of his loose mouth before your clingy walls suddenly give him a tempting squeeze. And any and all rational thought is sucked thoroughly out of him-

“I-I don’t know-” he’s breathing out, letting his head fall into the safety of the crook of your neck. Hips still stuttering forwards to spearhead into your gummy depths. Mindlessly. He could feel the drippingly wet slosh of his cum coating his shaft. Drinking in your sweet, sweet scent, “Don’t- don’t know why this is happening. Don’t know if it’s ‘nough- don’t hngh- know if it’ll ever be. J-jus’ want you a pretty m-momma, darling.”

And it’s all that he’s been thinking about for the whole day now.

Right from the very second he’d been hit with a special grade technique during a mission, to the moment that Nanami had stormed up to your apartment and taken you right then and there on the living room floor.

Hours ago.

“P-please-” 

Nanami doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but it’s just about all that he can sputter out like a little prayer. 

However, you do, apparently. Flashing him a cockdrunken smile that makes his breath hitch, and his tip bawl out a new velvety wave of precum that splatters against the ends of your cervix. You hum, “Mhm- o-one more, Ken–”

Immediately being shut up by a sudden slam! into your sweetest spots, he’s rutting in so deep, so thoroughly that you’re left deliriously wondering whether the circumference of his girth would be left indented onto your melty walls. Again. And again and again and- shit, was he using his jujutsu?

Was he even in control?

“Can’t stop- can’t stop can’t stop- I-it’s like-” Jackhammering pound after angry pound so hard that you’re being pushed further and further up the floor. “You’re too good to me- no!” he cries, accidentally sliding out from between your glossy folds to smack! smack! smack! his furiously reddened cock down the splatters of seed that drip down from your slit. Twitching until he bullies back in- “-promise m’gonna m-make it up to ya- hah- promise m’not gonna miss.”

And then he’s letting your unsteady fingers clutch tightly around the silky fabric of that yellow, speckled work tie that he hadn’t even bothered removing. “H-hold onto this- hold- in case I get too…” 

“Ken-” you hiss, feeling the cold circumference of Nanami’s wedding ring prod at your clit. So full you have the distinct thought that you could almost explode. “M’not s-sure if it’ll fit though-”

But Nanami didn’t want that - couldn’t even bear the thought-

“W-won’t fit?” Nanami shudders, eyes wide. “It won’t…won’t fit?” 

Sounding so devastated. 

Cracking a low whine at the very back of his throat when he immediately flinches away - spreading out his rounded fingers across your stomach to press. He coats his warm cock with a sudden gleam of cum eagerly, “S’this o-okay now? Will- will it fit, my love?”

And it’s so, so filthy.

You’re mewling like such a slut, “Yes- yes yes yes yes- m-more-”

Nanami was practically burning up, heaving for air. His feverish pleas panting out condensely against your face. 

“Gonna fill this ngh- cute cunt up until she’s overspilling.” Rummaging his dick inside your gooey cunt dangerously accurately, grazing up the thumping pace of his veins down the crevices of all your sensitive spots. Even hidden ones. “Have you all round and ah- glowing with my kid.” Uncharacteristically leaving a sodden swat! at your plump clit to watch your gush out in another creamy ring. “Can’t rest- can’t fuckin’ stop until I do. Feels like m’burning.”

Your fingers wrap even more desperately around his tie, pulling - hauling.

Yes, he gulps. This is what he wanted - what he needed. What the pollen was begging him for. 

His lips leer down to glissade wetly across your own, not even a kiss because he could barely even manage one. Unable to even raise his droopy eyes to meet your stare, “-hah- what do you want- t-tell me what you want, my wife.”

Your own lips quiver. “I-I want two babies, Ken-”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

When Nanami was out of control, he was unrecognizable. 

Hips slamming against yours in a few more sloppy strokes, before filling up every empty space with hot pumps of his seed. Voluminous. It’s spurting against your walls with a wet thwack! and not even your hand around his tie makes him slow down.

The air crackles with a few more sparks of jujutsu - except Nanami couldn’t control it. Couldn’t grasp the way even with his technique, he was so drunk on your pussy that his cock was just barely drawing wet glides of cum down your g-spot. Almost missing. 

Making him malfunction his cursed technique. 

Yet, the only thing you can register is when your own orgasm hits, white-hot tingles flashing down your spine. Toes curling, pulse thundering so loudly in your ears that you almost miss-

“O-one…just one more, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - (Un)affected

“I don’t…I don’t-”

Now, Geto Suguru had absolutely zero idea what he was about to babble away - maybe that he wasn’t affected by that sex pollen curse he’d swallowed, maybe that he wasn’t losing a slight bit of his sanity with every feverish drag of his fingers down his painfully hard cock.

“-don’t need anythin’ but your hngh- pretty face, gorgeous. Help out your leader, would ya?”

And oh, you looked like such a dream below him - with your glassy eyes blinking up at him, tongue darted out so obscenely to catch the stray splatters of his aphrodisiac-like precum. Pearly, winking beads that drip! drip! drip! down his visibly throbbing length. 

His beautiful second-in-command.

And he was so ruined. 

Sounding so pathetic when he whispers, scared at the way he knew his words would crack pathetically at the very end. “B-bring yerself closer, no need to be hah- shy- let me- let me…please.”

But he looked so pretty above you.

Splayed out in such a messy way on the throne for the association leader, dark brows knitted, sweat trickling in glistening rivulets down his forehead. Strands of Geto’s long, dark hair stick to his forehead when he smacks your pouty lips with his angry cock until they’re rubbed raw. 

“Wan’ you to cum, Sugu–” you’re batting your lashes in a way that makes his swollen cock twitch in his hands. Smearing your palms up and down the creamy skin of his muscular, manspread thighs, “-cum on my face, please?”

Fuck, he was so unfairly sensitive right now that just the singular gust of your words hitting his cock made Geto’s abs ripple. Make his entire body wrack with shudder after shudder as his weepy tip spits out a translucent few beads of precum. 

“S-such a naughty mouth.” he’s hissing, trying for the life of him to not act like the simplest glide of your palms had Geto fighting back his high already. “Better be ah- careful. Can’t talk like that n’ not end up s-stuffed full, honey–”

It’s a warning. 

For both of you.

Geto’s finding his roughened digits fly down faster and faster his length, squeezing ever-so-slightly harder near his mushroom slit.

You whine, “But I want that, Sugu.”

You little minx. You evil, evil little-

And he can’t fucking stop the way his hefty balls clench - painfully, obscenely, sluttily in a way that has the pinkish divot at the very end of his cock spurt out in a ribbon of steaming hot seed.

You’re closing your eyes, waiting for more- but Geto has other plans. 

Plans that have him swiping over the thick pad of his thumb to press down hard at the very ruby head of his erection, choking back a slew of swears when he wavers off his orgasm for just a second. Just long enough to drag you upwards with one free hand attaching to your waist. 

Up, up, up-

“Sit on m-my cock, gorgeous-” he’s spitting, wet and panted against your lips. Dizzying. You gasp at the sodden drag of Geto’s bawling tip down your pre-soaked pussy lips, meshing in a wet, wet French kiss. “-c’mon. Ride me. Ride me please- m’burning up.”

And it was the only opportunity you’d get to hear the dangerous Geto Suguru whine, to see him blink his long, teary lashes up at you when you sink your drooling cunt down his girth just an inch. 

He was so warm splitting you open. 

So steaming hot when your tight pussy floods with string wads of cum, such a mind-numbing orgasm that Geto can feel it before he even registers it. One that has his toes curling, his arms locking around your waist to fuck up into you like he hates you. 

“D-don’t get it twisted m’early because of the ah- p-pollen.” he groans, back muscles flexing with every perfect curved arch upwards into your greedy hips. The wet thwack! of skin-on-skin resounds throughout the tatami room and makes Geto drool. Unable to even spell out coherent sentences right now - well, not until he feels your sloppy hips slow down just a tad.

“Sugu- m’tired.”

Truly, his stamina was too much. 

Swat! His fingers leave branding little imprints, before roughly attaching to pinch your pulsing clit, “Work on it, gorgeous- tha’s an order. Because m’not hngh- anywhere near done. Jus’ milk me- milk me dry…oh, yeah let that pretty pussy have her fun-” 

“O-oh fuck fuck fuck-” You clutch precariously at the mahogany woodwork of his chair, thighs aching with the sheer effort to try and bounce your drippingly wet pussy down onto his rudely jostling cock. “-there’s so much- ah- can feel it drippin’ down my thighs-”

“Sh-shut up.” Geto’s managing to get out through grit teeth, planting another unabashed smack on your cunt simply to prove his point. Begging, “God, please- mercy-”

Because your honeyed tone is so sweet, your words so filthy that they have him spurting out a few more fatigued rivers of cum. 

Rasping out the tiniest of whimpers with each of your damp bounces, he makes you work. “O-open that mouth.” And you listen - of course, you do - letting those pretty, spit-glossed lips fall open into a soft ah! All so perfect for him to spit- the taste makes you hot. Burning, like an aphrodisiac. And now you’re feeling dizzy. “Bein’ way too talkative f-for a ngh- second-in-command. Aren’t ya?”

And obviously you don’t point out the slight drizzle of drool that makes its way down the corner of his coral pink lips, obviously you don’t point out just how hot and heavy he was swirling lewdly inside your walls. Stretching you out to the max - still so hard despite cumming for the nth time already.

No, instead, you smile drunkenly. “Why? D-does it affect you, sir?”

Smack!

“Sh-shut up n’ keep riding me, gorgeous.” And you could’ve sworn that Geto’s voice broke.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bed chem.

Choso was ruined. Absolutely fucked out…and he was so pathetically embarrassed about it. 

Unable to wrangle the teary ah! ah! ah! ripping from the very depths of his throat every time your drenched cunt was dragging down his sensitive shaft. Still clothed, still glissading along his thumping veins teasingly - but he felt like he could cum already. 

“P-please, baby-” The thick pads of his jittery fingers find their way to the edges of your soaked underwear, hooking inside ever-so-slightly - and the tiniest sneak peek of your puffy pussy lips makes him gulp. “-please I feel like m’gonna hah- die without ya.”

“But, Cho—” And that nickname in your sweetened tone is enough for him to buck right off the silken sheets. “-how am I supposed to help you with the pollen, otherwise? M’jus’ being a good friend.”

You wanted him to say it.

You wanted your best friend to beg.

“I-I…”

And oh, he trails off - because you’re helping him slide your sticky panties just enough down your thighs. Flashing him such a dangerous smile right as you watch Choso’s mouth drop, dark brows scrunching together when he heaves out a moan.

“I d-don’t know, baby- I don’t- I don’t know-” And he felt like he was burning, he felt his melty mind getting dizzier by the minute as your slobbering cunt drags in determined gyrations against him faster. Swollen folds spreading to coat the pattern of his throbbing veins in a gleaming sheen. Humping so ferally. “B-but you smell so good and f-feel so oh- all I want is…” 

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence. 

Within a split-second, your panties are left in tiny tatters for him to breathe in. Filthily.

Drinking in his fill before he has one pinning both your wrists behind your back. The other plugging into your cunt to circle a slow swivel enough for him to bully inside-

Heaven. He was in heaven. 

“This. This is what it oh- feels like? This is a-all I want-” he’s hiccuping, voice breaking into such a pretty whine every time his raw cock is tapping against the softest areas of your gummy walls. “-to fuck my p-pretty best friend. All I’ve ever wanted- S’my first ngh- time, y’know?”

You’re fluttering your eyes back open to bore down at Choso’s fucked-out expression. “S’your first time? Wh-why didn’t you ah- tell me, Cho?”

And maybe because he was embarrassed, maybe because all it takes is a single clench of your saturated cunt around his girthy shaft for him to shoot out a few wisps of cum. Half-orgasming already. 

But Choso only plants his powerful thighs flat on the mattress to pressurize his slow drills upwards.

Tentative, almost. As if he wasn’t utterly rummaging your insides, poking at your glossy cervix with sopping wet glides of his fat cock, stretching out your taut channel to massage spots you didn’t even know existed. 

The pollen had him greedier than ever. 

“Mhmm– because th-there’s no one else f’me.” His lower lip wobbles cutely, dewy eyes drooping to an almost closed state with every drag of his cock down your elastic walls. Filthy. Feverish. “S’jus’ for a bit- just- hah- just for the pollen, remember?”

Oh, right. You’re shuffling your hands precariously onto Choso’s bulging pecs to determine your grinds even more thoroughly. Pound after pound that left your ass stinging with impact. It was so hypnotic that you’d almost forgotten about the entire reason you were…helping in the first place. 

You fingers bully between his plump lips, muttering, “Open f’me, Cho?”

And of course Choso would do anything you command in a heartbeat. Anything. The only thing on his mind when he lets his mouth fall slack - just in time for your syrupy stream of spit. Hitting right onto the middle of his tastebuds, swallowing. 

So heady that he half-wonders whether you were the cause of the sex pollen itself. 

Holding back a few strained pleas for mercy, he’s placing a wet line of pecks down the side of your teary cheeks- shit, when did you even start crying? Choso can’t help but let his pinkish tongue loll out to lick a languid stripe up those salty dredges, groaning. 

“Just for the p-pollen and…”

“And what?” you’re crying out, feeling one set of his ringed fingers curl deftly around the nub of your clit. Swiping a wet drag of his rotund pads down the very sensitive edges of the hood, it makes your thighs shiver down even faster to meet Choso’s addicted pace. 

“And then…”

In a split-second, you’re being flipped over so meanly. Splayed out like such a slut on the plush mattress when Choso drags your limp legs up onto the curves of his deltoids, abs flexing and rubbing up against your ass when he folds in half down, down, down into the meanest mating press you’ve never thought possible. 

Choso’s gleamingly sharp canines sink into your ear lobe, breath feverishly hot against your ear. In fact, all of him was absolutely burning right now. Heaving. “-then m’gonna hngh- marry you.” Spitting into your open mouth - broken. Desperate. “F-fuck the talking stage, fuck dating- m’gonna wife you up.” You feel his hips get sloppier and sloppier, spearheading Choso’s fat cock to the very bruised bottom of your pussy. “Shit- gonna propose. Be my wife- the mother of my kids. Breed this cunt- Let me please- ngh- please by my wife.”

Maybe it was the sex pollen that had him babbling so much, maybe it was you.

But either way - Choso doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit when you’re opening your lips enough to mumble, “I-I do- Cho.”

His best friend. Enough to make him rut up into you wildly like an animal. Clashing his wet tip over and over in sopping slides down your g-spot. Again. And again and-

And the only answer is Choso’s whimper, “A-and please…can your h-husband cum inside, baby?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Mouthy?!

Sukuna’s hooking two of his fingers into the corner of his mouth - his other mouth. A wide, ravenous smile. Larger, greedier, positioned right underneath your shamefully spread cunt. “Move that damn hand before I hafta do it myself, woman.”

And oh he sounded so impatient - so utterly strained like just a few seconds longer would have Ryomen Sukuna rampaging. 

Your entire body burns with embarrassment, jittery legs almost coming to a close at the feverish pant of his second mouth. Drooling, ravenously condensing out little droplets of saliva that splatter onto your quivering hole like a blank canvas. 

“B-but are you sure, Kuna?” you’re whimpering, biting back tiny gasps at the way his tongue drags its sodden taste-buds along where you were straddling him with your sheeny inner thighs. Face sitting but…not quite. “Y-you’re that needy?”

Oh.

Oh, you should’ve known better than to accuse the infamous King of Curses of being needy - no matter how utterly true it was right about now. 

Sukuna didn’t know what potion Uraume had accidentally knocked into his last meal, but it had him so ruined. He couldn’t even breathe without all the blood in his towering body rushing straight into his painfully swollen cocks, couldn’t even think without feeling like his veins were boiling with the sudden greed to taste you.

Because Sukuna might have had his meal…but he was still starving. In a way he didn’t even know before rolling his tongue past your glossy folds. 

And he was chuckling out a dangerous bout of rumbling laughter that makes your lower lip wobble, “Don’t fuckin’ call me n-needy. M’jus-” Addicted? Hypnotized? Battling with the feeling that he’ll die without your pretty pussy? Deep voice petering out when he couldn’t even begin to justify the way that Sukuna was dragging his lolling tongue down your sodden folds, twirling the very pointed tip over the hood of your clit. “-fuck- I don’t need to give you an explanation, p-puny human. Just ride me.”

That’s all the answer you’re getting before he hunches over - long tongue tunneling even deeper around your melty walls and Sukuna was drooling. Smacking many, many wet kisses.

He’s throwing his head back into the decadently royal pillows with a slight, cracking whimper at the sweet, sweet taste of you on his tongue. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Swivelling wetly so that every single bead of your juices drip its silky way into his widely opened mouth. “Jus’ need a taste- just one taste.”

Your juices were like nectar, making the pollen rush.

“C-can you even taste like this, Kuna–?” your voice comes out in tiny whines. Positioning your shivery hands on either side of his shoulders to steady your legs - it just felt so unbearably good. 

Swat! 

And even with his thick, calloused fingertips, it felt like Sukuna was putting in twice the strength to plant a branding smack onto the curve of your jiggling ass. “Silly girl, of course I can taste this pretty cunt of yours-” Smoothing over the raised digits, and bearing you with such a sleazy grin. “-askin’ soo many q-questions, huh?” 

“But-”

Smack! 

“Shh, why don’t we let her speak for a second, now- hm?”

Silencing down his own grunts until all that resounds in the chamber are those sloshing squelches of your cunt dragging back and forth Sukuna’s monstrous tongue. The sounds of his wet muscle gyrating in and out hotly - it was almost burning. 

“Heh, real talkative this one is, too.” he’s snickering. Two of his arms attaching roughly onto your trembly hips, and a third covering your sagging mouth. “-why dontcha hngh- play with this pretty cunt of yours a lil’, brat? Make her all nice n’ even wetter f’me to taste?”

And it’s all you can do to dance one hand down to run over your poorly neglected clit, toying with that nub just the way you liked - and the way Sukuna liked, too. If the way his mouth - both his mouths - were smiling told you anything.

Yet, he wanted more.

“Fuck- fuck, wait.” And Sukuna smacks! away your hand with his free one - he couldn’t even last a few minutes with anyone other than himself staking a slutty claim on your cunt. “Let- let me.” Every roll of his tongue goes hand-in-hand with the meanest little drag of his fat thumb down your clit. At your surprised yelp, “Shut up and ride it.”

You’re clenching your teeth, bouncing your thighs up and down to glissade a ride everywhere from the ridges of Sukuna’s defined abs to the edges of his slurping tongue. 

“Heheh yeah-” he’s giggling - giggling. Drunk on you and your ravenous hips, you were moving against him so filthy at this point and he almost feels himself - the king of curses - blush. Head lolling backwards but eyeing down to watch how spearheaded you were on his tongue, surging in and out in wet sloshes to fuck your pretty cunt open on him. “Clenchin’ around me so tight- looks like you’re gonna cum, hm?”

“I-I am…so close, Kuna-”

“Don’ needa tell me- this cunt is speaking ‘nough for the both of ya. Right about-” Your eyes spark with sudden stars as he leaves another sudden smack! on your ass, your clit, and then one on your thigh. Before pulling- hauling- “-now.”

And the very moment you feel that build-up within your stomach snap - gushing out in wet wave after wave of your orgasm. All you can do is grab on helplessly to the- the headboard?

Blinking open your bleary eyes to realize that you were sitting on Sukuna’s mouth. His actual mouth. Cracked wide open for him to lap up every single bead and splatter of your squirting.

Such a filthy mess.

“There we go-” he’s groaning, eyes falling half-lidded. And through the corner of your eye, you catch the way his second mouth licks its lips devilishly. “-now I’m almost full.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “D-do you hate me?”

“What?” you’re blinking down at your dear boyfriend. “Of course not, Toru-”

“Then, y-you really think this will hold me back, sweetheart?”

The words are barely out of Gojo’s mouth before he already knows that they’re bluffs, already knows that the strongest is powerless against those thick black blindfolds restraining his wrists to the bedposts - and you. 

You, you, you-

With your trembly legs straddling his lap, hovering your cunt just above his strawberry blushed head so deliciously. Your sodden pussy lips slobbering all the way down his length in a way that Gojo finds dizzying. He just can’t help but tug-

“Now now, I said no pulling.” Your honeyed tone makes his fat tip twitch despite the way it was dripping with a filthy warning. “Jus’ the tip, Toru. Remember?”

Right…not. 

“Yes yes yes yes-” Gojo gasps wetly, feet planting on either side of the mattress to buck up and push. To smear a pretty peck right past your folds and against that tight ring of muscle, hot. And, shit, maybe it was that fucking pollen but Gojo whimpers, how he wished he could touch you. “-jus’ the tip. The tip hngh- please jus’ take me I don’t even c-care.”

But he did.

Oh, how much Gojo cared ever since he’d let himself be hit by that weak sex pollen jujutsu as a joke. 

Never expecting to end up babbling thoroughly pussydrunkenly like this, to have his twitchy cock sinking in a mere inch into your melty walls and feeling like he was about to burst. 

“You say that but this is way more than ‘just the tip’, Toru–”

And Gojo can’t help but look, to snap his teary eyes downwards and drink in the way your puffed-up pussy lips were bulging all around his thick cock. Just barely past his sensitive slit, he could catch that thumping pulse at your cunt like you wanted to milk something delicious. 

“A-are ya sure, pretty?” he’s snickering, gripping on tightly to use the lewd leverage of his ties to rut up, up, up- “Doesn’t l-look like hngh- s’enough to me.”

Shit.

He can’t help the way his prattling mouth sags open when your tight cunt swallows up another greedy inch. And if any of you two had been in a slightly less delirious state of mind, then you’d have noticed the way the dim bedroom lighting flickers, the way your bed shifts. 

Keening at the slight thickening where his hilt was fatter, spearheading your taut pussy so open. It’s like his prominent veins were throb throb throbbing to massage forbidden sweet spots that you didn’t even know existed. 

You’re taking a few sloppy seconds to find your voice, gathering up every shred of will in your body to make sure it doesn’t break. “D-don’t act like you’re hah- forgiven for g-getting yourself into this mess, baby-”

Ah, Gojo practically purrs underneath you. “Jus’ feel like m’gonna d-die without ya-” Bed creaking when he riotously thrusts upwards to match your tantalizing pace with a much sloppier one of his own. That smack-on-smack after every pound music to his ears - but not enough. “But, if you let m-me outta these ngh– ties then maybe I could-”

“Toru…”

Oh, he was in trouble.

But that angry scoff on your pretty features only had Gojo moaning, gulping in desperate heavals of your scented pheromones. Dizzying. 

“Satoru.”

Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Gojo was out of control. 

Head throwing back at your voice, lips gasping. Furiously ramming upwards into you with every ounce of strength he had - and Gojo could feel his limbs weaken, his bones ache with fatigue but he needed more. 

Maybe it was the pollen, probably it was him.

Burning for it.

“Aww don’ be like that. J-just the tip- just the tip-” he’s hiccuping out, eyes rearing almost half-closed. Sweat drips down the middle of his spine, your slick smears down in a wet gush onto his tufts of white when your pussy lips kiss his toned pelvis. Way past the tip but Gojo couldn’t stop- “-a little more-” Pushing mindlessly deeper, “-the tip- fuck you can take it- jus ah-” Wouldn’t stop. Can’t stop.

“Toru-” your words pitch into something pathetically whiny now. “-m’so close…”

He already knew

Of course, he already knew. His six eyes could catch that extra wad of drool coating your inner walls, the way your rapid pulse was probing even louder against his overwhelmed cock. Almost painfully. 

“Mhm�� I know I know-” he gasps, ripping out a guttural moan when you’re craning over your pretty self to lick a path down the side of that sliver of drool at his mouth. “-cum f’me then- cum- hngh- cum on my cock, please?”

“I should hah- leave you right now, for lying about j-just the tip.”

But who was Gojo Satoru against you?

The slight threat only just leaves your glossed lips before he feels a stubborn pricking behind his eyes. Fuck, what a spectacle this would be to anyone right now. Big, bulbous tears crinkling down the side of his cheeks, Gojo bats his wet lashes innocently up at you. “Please?”

And with a shudder, you’re cumming - crashing headfirst into your orgasm. 

Fuck, you’re wondering whether this curse was contagious with how strong those waves of your high are. Peak after peak and only much, much later do you realize that Gojo’s already ripped straight through his restraints.

Left as mere tatters by the pillow when he latches on roughly to your waist and pounds up his drilling rams, over and over to target your poor, bruised g-spot. Fucking you through your high, vision swimming, lights exploding- 

And Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s cumming until he’s managing to crack his glowing eyes open to bore down at the milky ring of white painting around his thick hilt. Gasping in wonderment, he’s running a singular digit down the glossy puddle - before popping it into his mouth. Sucking. 

“Sweetheart…would you h-hate me if I said I’m ah- still feeling the sex pollen?”

“...”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have a great dayyyy <3

Plagiarism not authorized.