#so if anyone want to guide me in the direction of one of those

[reccyls]

Victor's Main Route: Chapter 7

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(just a brief warning that this is not a guide, I won't necessarily have all the +4/+4 options since I used a bunch of those elixir items and blasted my way through the route before guides were up. It mostly becomes relevant starting from this chapter. Sorry about that!)

---

After leaving the basement, I made my way towards Victor’s office.

(I still don’t know exactly what I’m going to say…)

But I knew that I had to tell Victor how I really felt.

(First, I need to apologize for slapping his hand.)

I knocked on the door.

Victor: Who is it?

Kate: It’s me. Can I come in?

Victor: Of course, the door isn’t locked.

Slowly, I swung open the door and stepped inside the office.

Victor: Hello Kate, good morning. Or rather, good afternoon.

Victor welcomed me as if nothing had changed while sitting at his desk.

(...Huh?)

I was so surprised by his reaction–or lack of reaction–that I froze in the doorway. When Victor noticed that I hadn’t actually entered yet, he looked up.

Victor: What are you standing there for? Victor: Are you feeling unwell?

Kate: No, I’m okay… Kate: Um. I’ll come in now.

Victor: If you could handle these today, I’d appreciate it.

Kate: Alright.

Finally entering the office for real, I walked up to Victor to collect the work I’d be doing for today. After picking up the reports, I sat down in my normal chair and got ready to focus.

Kate: …

(Isn’t this too normal?)

My mind was racing after we went through our normal routine.

(Am I the only one who’s concerned about yesterday?)

I snuck a glance to Victor from the corner of my eye. He was hard at work as usual. Time passed as it normally did.

(I have to say something.)

Kate: Um, Victor…

Victor: Hm?

When I gathered the courage to speak up, his warm gaze turned in my direction.

Kate: About yesterday–

Victor: I’m very sorry that you had to witness something frightening last night.

Before I could speak, he stopped working immediately and bowed his head to me. I found myself standing up.

Kate: That wasn’t your fault. I was the one who chased after you.

Victor: But that doesn’t change the fact that you were scared. Victor: I promise that you will never see such a thing ever again.

His self-deprecating smile made my heart squeeze.

Kate: No, that’s not the point. You didn’t do anything wrong. Kate: I was the wrong one for being so ignorant.

Victor: Kate?

I reached over for his hand that was resting on his desk. Victor glanced down briefly at the motion, but said nothing. 

Kate: No matter how upset I was, I still hit you.

The shape of his hand was so different from my own: large, bony, with long and elegant fingers.

Kate: More than anything else, that is what stuck with me the most from last night.

My fingers brushed against his. Relief flooded through me when he didn’t pull away, but that also made my guilt at rejecting him even stronger.

Kate: I’m so sorry for that.

Victor: …

Still silent, Victor looked at me, then grasped my fingers.

Kate: Wha-

Victor: …You truly have a kind heart.

He laced our fingers tightly together.

Victor: You witnessed a terrible sight, and yet you feel guilty for pushing me away. Victor: If our roles were reversed, I would have blamed you much more.

My heart began to beat faster as the warmth of his palm seeped into mine.

Kate: …I mean, I do have someone I want to blame. Kate: But it’s not you. It’s myself, because I’m the one who needed to be protected. Kate: I really am a useless good for nothing, aren’t I?

Immediately, his fingers tightened.

Victor: No. That isn’t true.

Victor’s gaze was piercing as he looked at our joined hands.

Victor: You’re someone I rely on. You aren’t useless, and you aren’t weak.

Kate: But you’ve been making sure I haven’t seen anyone die, haven’t you? Kate: I know you meant well. But it made me sad, too.

Victor: …What?

Kate: Even if my time here is limited, I am Crown’s Fairytale Keeper. Kate: You drew a line between me and the rest of you. And I… that makes me feel lonely.

I couldn’t bear to look into his sharp eyes any longer, and averted my gaze. Even though I finally said what I needed to, I didn’t feel any relief. I think I had an idea of how he would respond.

Victor: I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.

(I knew it…)

I looked down upon hearing the words I expected. But his continuation came as a surprise.

Victor: I know better than anyone that you’re stronger than anyone else I know.

Kate: What?

Slowly, I raised my head. I met Victor’s gaze as he wore a troubled smile.

Victor: I know that your resolve to fulfil your duties is ironclad. I know that even if you were to witness death, and grieve for those lost, you’ll still be able to keep going on. Victor: From watching you, I know the kind of person that you are. Victor: But even so, I still selfishly wanted to keep you far away from death. Victor: I wanted your world to remain as pure as possible, so that you could return to your old life.

It was as if the warmth of his hand was being conveyed directly to my heart.

Victor: If that has caused you to feel guilty, or sad, then I am truly sorry.

(Just how nice is he?)

Just like that, all my shame, guilt, and frustration disappeared like melting snow. His kindness almost made me want to tear up. Slowly, I opened my mouth to respond.

Kate: For as long as I’ll be here, I want to know everything. Kate: I want to know about what I’d been unaware of because of how I lived my life before. Kate: And I want to know more about you.

Victor: …

Now was the time to ask. My resolve solidified, and I curled my fingers tighter around his. I hoped he would answer me.

Kate: Can you please tell me why those people died? Kate: Did you kill them? …Was that your ability?

The leader of Crown, the queen’s aide, the reaper of the palace. The Victor I knew was bright and kind, and maybe a bit of a tease, but always reliable. And at that time, he definitely said something.

Victor: –evil.

(After hearing what Victor said, those men all collapsed.) (The only thing I can think of that would cause that is a curse.)

He said nothing, but unlaced our fingers and withdrew his hand. That was like an answer in itself.

Victor: There are some things in this world that you’re happier not knowing.

This was another line. But this was different from the last time. The line he drew now was obvious. And he was clearly warning me not to step over it. As I stood there, unsure what to make of it, he picked up his quill and resumed working without another word. I felt a sense of emptiness throughout my entire body, as if my heart had been hollowed out. Similarly silent, I went back to my own work. I accidentally made a mistake, so I scribbled over it. As a chilling loneliness seeped into the hole in my heart, I reflected on why I began helping Victor in the first place.

(...That’s right. I wanted to know more about Victor. That’s why I’m here.) (And if I don’t do anything, nothing will change. We’ll just go back to normal.)

And then my time as Fairytale Keeper would come to an end, and I’ll never know the truth about Victor.

(I’ll only ever know this one face.)

I needed to know more. My hands curled into fists in my lap, wrinkling my skirt.

Kate: Victor.

I made up my mind.

Kate: Even if you won’t tell me about yourself, I’ll learn more about you. Kate: Because that’s what I’m here for.

Victor’s eyes widened in surprise as I threw down the gauntlet. 

(As Fairytale Keeper, I’ll learn the truth about him.)

His expression shifted to a grin.

Victor: Do as you please. Victor: I won’t restrict what you do while you’re in the castle. Victor: I have no right to stop you from trying to learn about me, either.

His perfect composure made me feel a little irritated.

Make sure you don’t regret saying that! (+4/+2)

I’ll show you!

Fine, I’ll do what I want!

Kate: Make sure you don’t regret saying that!

Victor: I don’t know how much you’ll learn or how far you’ll get. But… Victor: I don’t go back on my word. Do as you please.

Seeing how worked up I was, he smiled widely.

Victor: You’re always adorable, but you’re extra cute when you’re sulking.

Kate: …!

(You–!!!)

He wasn’t shaken by anything. Not knowing how to retort, I shut my mouth. What drove me wasn’t just my pride as Fairytale Keeper, But I didn’t realize it yet.

-----

Roger: So are you here about my offer after all?

Kate: No!

Roger paused his reading and adjusted his glasses, laughing heartily. As soon as I finished my work, I immediately headed back for the basement. I had a singular purpose.

Kate: You have everyone’s medical charts, don’t you? Kate: I want to see Victor’s.

However, Roger made a face.

Roger: I can show it to you if you really wanted. But the only thing on there is his height.

Kate: Huh?

Roger: I’ve tried to properly fill it out but he’s always dodged me every time I try to give him an examination.

Kate: You're kidding me…

If Roger had everyone’s medical files, then he had to have had some information about Victor. Or so I thought… I’d ran all the way back to the basement for nothing.

Roger: Trying to find his weak spots?

Kate: Well, that’d technically count as information. But I mostly just want to know more about Victor.

Roger: I see. But I don’t really know much about him myself. Roger: There’s no one who’s really as close to him as you are right now, I don’t think. Roger: If there’s anything you don’t know about him, maybe William would?

Kate: He’s out of town for a mission today.

(He’ll only be back the day after tomorrow so I can’t ask him anything now.)

My shoulders slumped in disappointment. Rubbing his chin, Roger thought for a while and then made a suggestion.

Roger: It’s probably a long shot, but why don’t you ask the rest of Crown what they know? Roger: Things like, “What kind of person is Victor?”

(That is probably the best thing I can do right now.)

Kate: Then let’s not waste any time. What kind of person do you think Victor is?

I repeated his own question back at him. Still, he had to pause to think.

Roger: Someone who you can’t tell what he’s really thinking.

Kate: Anything else? Kate: It doesn’t have to be important things. Likes and dislikes work too.

Maybe there’d be something I didn’t know in those little bits of information. I looked expectantly at Roger, who seemed exasperated.

Roger: It’s not like we’re good friends or anything. Roger: He’s my boss, I work for him. That’s as far as our relationship goes. Roger: I don’t know things like what food he likes, or what he likes in a woman.

Kate: …What he likes in a woman…

(What kind of person would Victor like?)

The topic had never come up before, but I was suddenly extremely curious about it. However, Roger didn’t seem interested at all.

Roger: You’re better off asking one of the others. This isn’t my forte.

Kate: Thanks. I’ll do that.

I likely wouldn’t get any further here, so I said my thanks and started walking to the exit. Roger turned back to his book. But–

Roger: Oh yeah, one more thing, actually.

Kate: What is it?

Roger scratched the back of his head and responded.

Roger: Victor seems like he’d be a pain to get involved with.

…

Elbert: “What kind of person is Victor?” …He’s cheerful. And strange. Elbert: He seems like he has everything… However he did it, I want it too… Elbert: “Is he a Cursed One?” …I don’t know. I’ve never seen him use an ability…

…

Liam: “What kind of person is Victor?” Hmmm, he’s really good at magic tricks, and he’s very funny. Liam: He’s the reason why I could join Crown, so I’m really thankful to him. Liam: “Is Victor a Cursed One?” Well, I haven’t seen him use his ability so I can’t tell. Liam: What do you think?

…

Alfons: “What kind of person is Victor?” I suppose he’s a person who’s very benevolent to us Cursed Ones. Alfons: Though, who knows what’s on the inside. Alfons: “Is he a Cursed One?” …I don’t know. He’s full of mysteries, that one. Alfons: But more importantly, I’m headed into town for some fun tonight, would you like to join me?

…

Ellis: “What kind of person is Victor?” …He’s a little bit weird, I guess. Ellis: When I ask him questions, sometimes he avoids it, and sometimes he just tells me not to ask.

Jude: That’s ‘cause it’s you askin’. Jude: You’re off your rocker for trying to get close to someone like him. Jude: Hah? “Is he cursed?” Beats me.

Ellis: If he has an ability, I’ve never seen him use it. Not even once. Ellis: Maybe he isn’t a Cursed One after all.

…

(I didn’t get any of the information I was hoping for.)

I ran around Crown’s castle asking the other members about Victor for the rest of the day, and before I knew it, night had fallen.

(William’s not here today, and I already heard a bit from Harrison before…)

I sat down on my bed as I went over today’s results in my head. The way Crown viewed Victor wasn’t much different than how I did. The Victor of that night seemed like a totally different Victor than the one that Crown knew. And what's more, nobody had ever seen Victor use an ability before.

(What happened that night must have been unexpected even for Victor.)

Kate: …All I have are questions without any answers…

Getting up, I made my way to my desk and reached for my music box. Its gentle melody drifting through the night made my heart feel just a little bit lighter.

[crepus]

my favorite part of the fear and hunger fandom is that for some reason they decided to abbreviate the name to Funger and that just makes it seem like the name of a super fun game 😭😭

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal 4

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, prisoner!Sukuna, modern au, no curse au, dead dove, vivid descriptions of violence including murder and sexual assault, dark romance trope, angst, read at your own discretion

Synopsis: Sukuna is in prison because of you. He's ordered to undergo weekly counseling sessions. Talking to his counselor about you, it's apparent that his obsession with you is quite concerning.

An: Reminder, this story is dark. Take care of your mental health first. Sexual assault will be briefly mentioned, but it will not be written about in detail. Sukuna is diagnosed with borderline personality disorder at the end of this session. I want to make it clear that it is not my intention to offend anyone with this diagnosis or demonize this diagnosis. It is used to make him feel more real, and it furthers the plot. Hope you guys enjoy… only one last part after this one <3.

Session one. | Session two. | Session three. | Session four.

The counselor hadn't had time to do any more digging into Sukuna's case files this week. It was the end of the year — holidays were coming up, and that meant that annual paperwork on all of his patients were due.

His caseload was becoming too much to manage all on his own. He was thankful that the jail was finally consulting him about hiring a social worker to help out with the workload.

Checking Sukuna's chart briefly, the counselor inhaled sharply. It was finally time to talk about the crime that landed him in prison. Sure, the counselor could drag this out. He could talk about every petty theft or assault case Sukuna had been charged with, but those were pointless to talk about in the grand scheme of things.

As if on cue, a large buzzer sounded, and Sukuna was shoved into the room with the counselor before promptly being locked inside. He was shackled as always, but his demeanor was different today.

He didn't have that calloused grin or careless attitude. He sat down on the couch with a small grunt before immediately laying his head back against the piece of furniture. His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly.

It was as if Sukuna knew what the counselor was going to bring up today.

"How are you holding up this week, Sukuna?" The counselor asked. Normally, they'd skip pleasantries, but the counselor sensed that Sukuna needed some priming before he got to talking.

"How am I holding up?" Sukuna echoed with a humorless laugh before shaking his head. "Don't ask stupid fucking questions. This is a prison not a 10 hour shift at a fucking factory."

Well, so much for priming.

"You don't want to talk about her today?" The counselor asked, tapping his pen against his paper. "Or is there something you're not wanting to relive."

"I can talk about her until my lungs give out." Sukuna muttered in a pained tone. He rubbed his face with his hands, cuffs clinking around in the process. He groaned as he put his hands down. "Tell me what you think I don't want to relive." He finally demanded, turning the tables on the counselor.

The counselor widened his eyes as he was put on the spot. He immediately avoided Sukuna's lifeless glare. He was definitely testing him right now — seeing if he kept up on his homework.

"You're not afraid of reliving your own pain. You don't want to relive mouse's pain." The counselor finally muttered out, using his knowledge of Sukuna to help guide him through his analysis.

Sukuna grunted in response, and the counselor took it as approval to keep going. "You weren't there to protect her. You feel like it's a failure on your end that what happened to her happened."

Sukuna's fists clenched, and his jaw tightened, but this didn't feel like his typical anger. It wasn't directed at anyone else besides himself.

"You got there a little too late. You saw what was happening to her, and you went into a blind rage. Your normal brutal, methodical, unique style to killing your victims went out the window. He needed to die right then, didn't he?" The counselor pressed on. He kept his hands on his lap to defend himself in case he said anything that teetered the line. Though, there really was no defending himself against Sukuna's hulking figure.

"He didn't deserve to live." Sukuna's voice was a low growl. His heart was pounding against his ribcage as he was reminded of his last moments with you before he incarceration.

The prisoner suddenly reached out, and the counselor flinched far back into his seat upon reflex, but Sukuna was faster. He grabbed the counselor by his dress shirt, and he patted around on his body. "I know you record these sessions, doc. I want this next part to be off the record." He demanded as he continually searched for a recording device.

The counselor tried fighting him off, but Sukuna was still stronger while he was handcuffed. "Fine-! Here! All you had to do was ask for this part to be off the record." The counselor shouted before he threw his pen over to Sukuna.

His pen had a secret recording device hidden inside, and it was promptly cut off when Sukuna snapped the pen in half without a second thought. He then threw it at the wall, ensuring that nothing would be listening in on what he was about to say.

Sitting back in his seat, he let out another stressed sigh. His twin brother's murder was a well kept secret thanks to his skills of covering up evidence, but this was his best kept secret. It physically pained him to say the words out loud.

"Mouse wanted a normal... domestic life, and I wanted to give her whatever she asked for. I started an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop, and I worked at a bike shop on the side so she could focus on figuring out what she wanted to do with life." He started off slowly. The counselor was still rattled from their physical altercation, but he was already enthralled by Sukuna's story telling abilities.

"I didn't care what I did as long as I got to be in her life. Coming home after sixteen hour shifts felt like paradise when I got to slide into bed next to her. She was the only piece of heaven that I'll ever see." Sukuna went on. His eyes were aimed at the broken pen in the corner, fully reliving what it was like to just be yours.

"Your tattoos... those came from your apprenticeship?" The counselor asked, finally taking the time to ask about the markings that covered Sukuna's body and face.

The prisoner looked at his arms and shook his head. "No, these came from over the years." He said as he slowly rose from the chair. He unbuttoned the jumpsuit and shoved it down around his waist to reveal a white undershirt that covered his broad, muscular torso.

Sukuna clearly had nothing else better to do other than work out while he was incarcerated.

The marking covered his neck, shoulders, arms, back, and chest. The counselor marveled at them for a minute, wondering how long Sukuna had to sit in a chair for all of them to be completed.

"As a gift for finishing my apprenticeship, Mouse and I got tattoos together." Sukuna explained before he raised his undershirt up. Right there on his right ribcage — a detailed portrait style tattoo of just your eyes stared back at the counselor.

Your eyes alone could tell a million words. They were gates directly to your soul. The counselor didn't know what you looked like. Your face had been scrubbed from every news outlet that reported on Sukuna's case, and the counselor couldn't remember if he saw your face in court or not.

"Does she have your eyes tattooed as well?" The counselor asked. It was the safer option because he was sure that Sukuna would probably kill him if he complimented your eyes.

"She had this-" he gestured to the tattoo that was placed on his forehead directly between his eyes, "tattooed on her back, and I tattooed my name across her ribcage in the same place I have her eyes tattooed." Sukuna explained before he redressed himself and sat back down.

"She also has a tiny mouse tattooed behind her ear. All of her work is done by me." He explained.

"Wait- You didn't come up with mouse on the spot?" The counselor asked. "That nickname actually has any meaning?"

Sukuna snickered from the counselor's assumptions. "Nah. When we were little and she wasn't talking to me yet, I use to tease her and say she was as quiet as a church mouse."

The counselor gave a small laugh, and he allowed for the silence to fill the room once more, signaling that Sukuna should get back on topic.

"I was working late most nights, and I told her it'd be worth it once I started making some real money. I just wanted to give her the life she never had. I could've provided her with peace." Sukuna explained, his eyes going back dull as all the fun was sucked right back out of the conversation.

"One night, she wanted to surprise me with my favorite dinner. I always told her not to go out alone at night. She usually waited for me to get off work if she needed to go to the store, but I guess she was worried about burdening me... foolish girl." He muttered as he stared down at his palms.

The counselor swallowed harshly, knowing what was coming next. He normally wasn't so emotionally invested in his client's lives, but Sukuna had a way of drawing him in. He was rooting for you even if he knew the result of what happened that night.

"She wasn't stupid though. Mouse was resourceful. She had a heart of gold, but she wasn't naive. She took one of my blade's with her, and she concealed it in her purse." Sukuna explained as his hands picked at the unhealed scabs on his knuckles once again.

"You don't have to go into detail. I'm honestly not sure if I could stomach that-" The counselor admitted. He knew it was unprofessional. He was supposed to be able to shoulder his clients' trauma, but he just didn't know if he could live with Sukuna's version of what happened to you.

"On her way home, that fucking... coward grabbed her. I don't- I don't know how far he got. She wouldn't tell me. I don't know if it was more for my sake or for hers." A shaky breath left his lips. He was grinding his teeth so hard that the counselor was even cringing.

"She managed to send me her location, and I immediately knew something was wrong. I just left the shop — didn't bother locking up or even telling my client where I was going. By the time I got there, my little mouse's clothes were ripped. She was a mess. He was laid out on the ground. The motherfucker died from a few stab wounds, how fucking pathetic."

"What." The counselor said as his jaw dropped. All this time, he was told that Sukuna was only caught because he killed your assailant in a crime of passion, but that wasn't the truth. He had never been baffled like this for his entire career.

"Mouse isn't some defenseless damsel in distress. You think I'd let her walk around if I hadn't taught her self defense?" Sukuna asked as he looked up at the counselor. His jaw was tight and his gaze was narrow. "I'd be damned if I let her walk around without anyway to defend herself after the shit that went down with her dad and his temper."

The counselor stayed silent. Everything he had thought about Sukuna's final murder had been a lie. He didn't kill the poor bastard out of a crime of passion. You had killed your attacker, and Sukuna took the fall for it.

Everything he had done thus far was to protect you — all of it. It was all for you.

"How did any of this end up pinned on you?" The counselor carefully asked while he was still trying to wrack his brain. A part of him wondered if Sukuna was lying, but there was no way Sukuna would lie and risk you getting into trouble for a crime that he committed.

"I have been involved in the justice system for so long. I know how crooked everything is. The district attorneys and judges aren't trying cases fairly and protecting the balance of the justice system. They're doing whatever they can to appease the politicians who have them in their back pockets. They'll sentence a serial rapist to 25 years in jail, but they'll sentence a woman defending herself from a rapist to life in jail. There's no justice in this system."

"I wasn't going to let that shit happen to mouse. I wasn't going to let her name be ruined because she defended herself and did what she had to do. I wasn't going to let her trauma be drug through court. She has so much ahead of her, and I-" Sukuna paused to take a ragged breath. It had been a long time since he had spewed out words so fast.

This was the first time he had ever been able to talk about this to anyone. Everyone fully believes that Sukuna happened to catch the guy assaulting you, and he killed him right then and there. No one knew that he hadn't been there to protect you. You had to resort to protecting yourself, and he fucking loathed the thought of you having to bear the weight of that sick son of a bitch's death on your shoulders.

For two years, he carried this weight around. It had been two years since he was sentenced. Two years since he last saw you.

He let a tear slip past his cheek. Just one -- he didn't bother to wipe it away. It was gone as soon as it had appeared.

"Take your time." The counselor murmured empathetically. This was a major break through with Sukuna. It was something that proved he wasn't a sociopath.

Sukuna could feel emotions. Perhaps, he felt them more than everyone else did. His anger was immediately rage. He was never just sad. Instead, he'd plummet into an unbeatable depression. His happiness felt like pure euphoria, and when he loved, he loved unconditionally hard.

He used you as an anchor for his tidal waves of emotions, basing them on how you acted — the girl who didn't speak and wore a mask around other people. You two were truly made for each other.

If soulmates existed, you two would be the leading example.

Sukuna took another ragged breath, taking just another second to collect his thoughts. "She has so much ahead of her, and I only had her." He managed to grit out.

"Before she could even think about trying to stop me, I ripped the gloves off that I had been using to tattoo my client. I grabbed the blade from her, and I stabbed him 32 times. I brutalized his body to make sure neither the coroner nor the forensic pathologist would be able to distinguish her stab wounds from my own." He explained solemnly. His eyes were void of any emotion while talking about what he did to your assaulter.

"The police were looking for anything to pin on me anyways. They always had thought I got off easy on my juvenile cases, and they suspected I had something to do with Jin's disappearance. They just couldn't prove anything. So, when this opportunity fell into their lap, they ran with it."

"Why didn't you try to hide the body to get away with it?" The counselor asked. Sukuna's crimes were those of cold calculation, and the fact that he made sure to strip off his gloves to taint the blade with his fingerprints proved that he was still very calculated with this murder as well.

"When he grabbed her-" Sukuna's fists tightened in his lap, "he pulled her into dark alleyway at the end of town. Bastard just thought he was going to assault her and leave her stranded in the alley- There was no way for me to move his body without being seen or caught on camera."

"I didn't try to argue when they came for me the next day. I would've willingly surrendered myself if it kept mouse out of trouble. They booked me into the county jail within hours, and I took a plea deal on my second court appearance." He explained as was back to picking at the scabs on his knuckles. They were likely never going to heal if he kept picking at them, making them bleed.

"Why didn't you go for a trial?" The counselor asked. There were ways for Sukuna to be proven not guilty. He probably would've qualified for at least a lesser charge of second degree murder or even manslaughter.

"I knew they'd try to subpoena mouse to testify. They'd drag up her trauma and make a spectacle of her in court. I wasn't going to let them try to convince her that what happened to her wasn't anything less than assault, and I wasn't going to let them retraumatize her." Sukuna spoke firmly, shaking his head.

The counselor honestly found it admirable of him. Most "Bonnie and Clyde" killers would actually turn on each other to get themselves out of trouble, but Sukuna would bear the weight of your crime on his shoulders, and he'd still find other ways to protect you from any negative consequence that he could.

"So, I took a plea deal. I plead guilty to the murder and was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole with weekly 20-minute counseling sessions. In exchange, the district attorney made sure mouse's name was scrubbed from every court document, social media outlet, and news source. They had to act like she was in the witness protection program." Sukuna explained with a sigh. It was another way to protect you.

The counselor felt strangely empty. Sukuna's and your story was tragic. A boy who fell madly in love with a silent girl and vowed to protect her from anything. Did he belong in prison for this? Does this excuse him killing your dad? Did this excuse him slaughtering his own flesh and blood? How do they move on from here?

"You were a sensation in court... had your own little fanbase and everything." The counselor hollowly mused, remembering the young women that piled into the courtroom to catch a glimpse of Sukuna. They had idolized him for what he had done. Plus... he was handsome in the most sinful way possible.

Sukuna rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue with annoyance. "The same bitches who praised me for what I had done didn't respect what I was trying to protect. They're always trying to find and leak mouse's name to the public. They don't give a fuck about me or her. They just think our story is perfect for some shitty dark romance novel."

The room fell into a tense silence once more. Neither of the two men knew how to move on from this.

The silence was finally broken with a correctional officer's voice booming through the office. "Ryomen! Your time is up!" He shouted as his fist connected against the door multiple times.

The counselor sighed as Sukuna wordlessly rose from his seat. This session had been worse than either of them could've predicted. "Take care, Sukuna. We will not meet again next week due to the holidays, but I'll see you in two weeks."

The prisoner grunted in response while still walking towards the door. The loud buzzer filled the room once more, and he was let out.

It didn't feel right to watch Sukuna walk back to his pod. The justice system had failed you as a woman, but he was willing to shield you from any harm that threatened to come your way.

𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚜: 𝚁𝚂

𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟼

𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝟹𝟶𝟷.𝟾𝟹 (𝙵𝟼𝟶.𝟹) 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚂𝙼-𝟻)

𝚂𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚜: 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 [𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳], 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕, 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 [𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳]

𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜: 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗.

Taglist (FULL): @catladythoughts @pinky0328 @coldluminarykoala @lemonlimecrystal-blog @san-it-is-i-guess @kunasthiast @nonamevenus @ecliipzed @jup1tersuccubus @gojodickbig @totallygyomeiswife @gremlinartstudio @tojislittleprincesss @jaybirdluvr73 @emyyy007 @b3bybunny @unofficialsapphire @thequeenofcurses @canecomplex @sukubusss @satosugu4-ever @theonlyhonoredone @eravariety @kaged-kitty @stargirl-mayaa @jinxiewritings @startwithrecords @nikki-demi @samoankpoper21 @grinnwolph @mizuwki @cisseadven @meandmyhomieshateshibuya @gradmacoco @lolololololhanma @theuclid @uma0777

[honey-tongued-devil]

↠The last drop tour

| Part 1 | | Part 2 | | Part 3 |

This tour was designed to allow those who write and read fanfiction to finally visualize the Last Drop and have a solid map in hand. Specifically, I created it for a personal need, for my fanfiction Everytime It Rains, which you can read by clicking the title. This is part two, where you can see Silco's office in detail. Welcome back from your favorite guide, and enjoy!

Did you get something to drink? I hope so, because it's really packed in here. So, where did we leave off? We were supposed to enter the office, right? Well, sisters, and bros, and non-binary hoes, welcome!

Let's start from the left; I know it's a bit chaotic, but this is where Sevika used to come to drink even when Silco wasn't around, waiting for him faithfully. All those bottles are hers. The rug is from Piltover, you've probably recognized it, along with the iconic Last Drop glasses. That sturdy piece of furniture you see there, closer to his desk, is his safe. No one has the code except for him, me, and now you (it's 937). Since we're here, I might as well open it.

Face down, there's a photo depicting Vander, Silco, and Felicia on the bridge when they were younger—certainly well before Felicia got pregnant, given the length of Silco's hair. That strange map is a map of the mine tunnels, a relic from his past as a miner. And finally, the LP is "Our Love," ironically Vander's favorite song (as Jinx mentions in Jinx Fixes Everything), as well as Felicia's, Silco's, and Jinx's. It's in the safe because Silco treasures that vinyl so much that he doesn't leave it where it could get destroyed; he keeps it protected.

But let's close it up and move on. Here it is, the iconic desk. Since I'm a generous guide, I'll let you circle around it so you can see it from every angle. On top, there's the map of Piltover with the mug that Jinx made for him, while in the drawer, there's a mask to filter out the gray, the smog of Zaun, and a card that I think was used for blackmail. I can't say for sure, but it seems to be part of the man's shady dealings.

Next to his desk, on the right, there are two doors. They're not accessible, but since I doubt he'd want anyone to have such direct access to his office, in my fanfiction at least, there will be a room behind them with a double bed and some of his belongings.

But let's move on to the last piece! The huge map of Piltover and zaun with which he planned the export of Shimmer and weapons, where he kept track of everything that happened.

If you enjoyed or found this little tour useful, let me know, and feel free to check out my headcanons or my longfic! This tour has come to an end, but I might have material to create more in the future!

[sofiatarot]

Pick a card: Messages from loved ones watching over you

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1->2

3->4

Not long ago, I lost someone I loved deeply... someone who had been with me for many years. When their spirit decided to leave their body, I was devastated, desperate to hear something from them. I missed them so much and searched for comfort, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Nothing felt like them.

It was then, in the midst of the storm, that I decided to quiet myself, to stay still and listen to my own intuition. Using the cards as a tool, a guide, I was able to connect with the love I had been yearning for and more grateful than ever, I decided to try and share this little piece of heaven I had accessed.

When I connected with them, I thought about others who, like me, feel they lack closure and are left with their hearts in their hands and so much love to give.

To anyone who needs it, as much as I did back then, here it is: messages from a loved one who has passed away.

With all the respect and love in the world, I hope you know that you are not, and will never be, alone.

Now, take a moment to just breathe, ground yourself, connect to your intuition and choose the group that draws you in the most.

Group 1

Your loved one speaks to the uncertainty you've been feeling lately. They see the fear that clouds your path and the questions you hesitate to ask yourself. Their message is this: trust your inner wisdom. You’ve always had the answers within, even if they feel obscured by doubt. There’s a quiet strength in stepping away from situations that no longer serve you, even if it feels like leaving behind a part of yourself.

This soul was someone wise in life, perhaps introspective or spiritual, and they want you to know that moments of confusion and hesitation are natural. They encourage you to embrace the unknown, as clarity comes not from rushing forward but from allowing the truth to reveal itself in time. Don’t fear the fog—it’s temporary.

They see the decisions you’re grappling with and urge you not to overthink. Choices made from the heart will always guide you to the right path. You may feel pulled in multiple directions, but balance is key. Release the fear of failure; every twist of fate is a lesson in disguise.

This soul wants to remind you that you’re not walking this journey alone. They’ve seen the moments where you felt stuck, as though life was spinning out of your control. Even in those times, they were quietly supporting you, nudging you toward growth. You are more adaptable than you give yourself credit for.

They encourage you to release the need for perfection. Allow yourself to take bold steps without fearing judgment. You’ve been watching and waiting for the right moment, but sometimes action is the only way forward. They promise that courage will lead to clarity.

Above all, they want you to know that peace is within reach. They send you love and patience as you navigate this period. Trust that the tides will turn in your favor, and know they are proud of your strength and resilience.

Group 2

Your loved one sees the challenges you’ve faced in maintaining harmony with those around you. They know you’ve been giving much of yourself, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. Their message is simple: give as much love and care to yourself as you give to others. You can’t pour from an empty cup.

This soul had a steady, grounded energy in life. They might have been someone you relied on for wisdom or practicality. They encourage you to find a balance between giving and receiving. It’s okay to ask for help or to say no when your energy feels depleted. They remind you that boundaries are not barriers—they are acts of self-love.

You may feel stuck, as though a new beginning keeps slipping from your grasp. They urge you to release the frustration and surrender to the timing of the universe. Sometimes, the things we want most require patience. Trust that your path is unfolding as it should.

This soul has noticed your efforts to resolve conflict, whether internally or with others. They see the peace you’re trying to create and applaud your willingness to choose understanding over anger. Keep trusting in the power of compassion—it will lead you to lighter days.

They also ask you to let go of perfectionism. There’s no need to carry the weight of comparison or feel like you’re falling behind. You are exactly where you’re meant to be. Focus on the small steps and celebrate every victory, no matter how small.

Finally, they want you to know that they’re proud of the person you’re becoming. They see the strength it takes to keep going, even when the road feels uphill. You are never alone; their energy is with you every step of the way.

Group 3

Your loved one acknowledges the emotional turmoil you’ve been navigating. They know you’ve been questioning your choices, especially in matters of the heart. Their message is this: be kind to yourself. You’re learning, and every step you take—no matter how uncertain—is leading you toward a deeper understanding of yourself.

This soul feels like someone passionate and bold, someone who wasn’t afraid to live fully. They want you to embrace that same boldness. Don’t let fear of judgment or failure keep you from pursuing what sets your soul on fire. You have so much potential waiting to be unleashed.

They see the moments when you’ve felt trapped, whether by your own expectations or by the opinions of others. You have the power to break free, but it starts with letting go of the need for external validation. Trust your intuition and take control of your destiny.

This soul knows you’ve been carrying old wounds, especially from relationships. They urge you to forgive—not for the sake of others, but for your own healing. You deserve to move forward without the weight of the past holding you down.

They remind you to nurture yourself. You’ve been giving so much energy to growth and transformation, but don’t forget to rest. Balance is essential, and true change comes when you honor both your light and shadow.

Above all, they want you to know that you’re loved—by them, by the universe, and by those around you. Your journey is far from over, and they’re excited to see the incredible things you will create.

Group 4

Your loved one sees the loneliness you’ve been feeling, even when surrounded by others. Their message is this: you are never truly alone. They are with you in the quiet moments, in the small signs you notice—a song, a scent, a memory. Trust that their love remains with you, even if you can’t see them.

This soul feels like someone joyful and warm, someone who brought laughter and light to those around them. They want you to reconnect with your inner joy. Life doesn’t have to be so serious—let yourself celebrate the little things and find beauty in the everyday.

They see the walls you’ve been building around your heart, out of fear of being hurt again. They urge you to let those walls down, even if just a little. Vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s where true connection begins. You have so much love to give, and the right people will cherish it.

This soul knows you’ve been feeling stuck, as though your plans aren’t coming together the way you hoped. They encourage you to trust in divine timing. The delays you’re experiencing are not failures—they’re redirections toward something even better.

They also remind you to lean on your community. You don’t have to face everything on your own. There are people who want to support you, but you need to let them in. Don’t be afraid to ask for help... it’s a sign of strength, not weakness.

Finally, they want you to remember that life is a journey, not a race. Be gentle with yourself and take things one step at a time. They’re cheering you on from the other side, proud of every bit of progress you’ve made.

thank you, xoxo 💖

[rhenysz]

Your Dead Eyes - Chapter 3

Summary: Lifeless eyes were what haunted your all life, manu people say that death was lurking around your eyes, Maybe it's true. Maybe you just see things that other people don't.

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron! reader fem.

A/n: I... Well, hello. So, Merry Christmas? I didn't fix this properly...

*English is NOT my native language, this fanfic was translated with a little help from a A.i. So, let me know if there are any grammatical errors*

Word count: 3k

Warnings: None that I can remember, some humor, tension , Azriel being a dumb mother hen

previous x next

Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand had already left when you came downstairs for breakfast. Nesta grumbled that they hadn't even eaten before spreading their wings to the sky, making everything around them flutter – including the newly planted rose saplings of Elain, to her great displeasure.

Feyre often returned home in hopes that the queens had already responded. The delay was noticeable given how long ago the letter had been sent, and it was a shot in the dark trying to guess what might have happened, though you doubted the letter had gotten lost in transit, and, mind you, you weren't foolish enough to think it was their indecision.

They were making the High Lord wait for pure amusement, and maybe a little bit of sadism. The human queens were in control of the situation, and that made everything even more delicious. A power struggle where, for the first time, the weaker ones were in charge. It must have been painful to even consider discarding this succulent opportunity that had been handed to them on a golden platter—one in a million, truly.

Bringing the steaming cup of tea to your lips, you sipped cautiously to avoid burning yourself; there was no pain worse than burning your tongue – well, maybe stubbing your toe, you mused with a hum. A gust of wind passed through your hair, signaling that someone was passing by in a hurry.

“Don’t run around the house, Elain,” Nesta grumbled from her spot at the table, clearly not a morning person. Your second eldest sister slipped on the floor and turned back to stop by your side, placing one of her delicate hands on your shoulder to alert you of her presence.

Taking a deep breath, Elain spoke breathlessly, “A new batch of letters is arriving today!”

Now, this was interesting. You placed your hand on hers, squeezing her hand on your shoulder, turning your head slightly to show your interest in the topic. Not because of the letters, obviously.

“Why don’t you come with me, sister? We can stop by that little craft shop too,” Elain suggested. She certainly knew how to brighten your day, and even though you were avoiding crowds, especially those zealots who called themselves the enlightened ones – and that made your skin crawl – it was hard to resist the opportunity to get out of the house. God knows this place could be suffocating.

Nesta was irritated with anyone who breathed in her direction, Elain would shudder at the mere mention of meetings and queens, and you missed Merina and her pies. No matter how hard you tried, it was difficult to connect with your sisters as well as with Feyre, who no longer lived a human life filled with nuances like yours.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed yourself off the chair and blindly grabbed your beautiful cane, intending to head for the door alone, but Elain was quicker and grabbed your wrist, guiding you somewhat hurriedly toward the exit without saying goodbye to a very grumpy Nesta.

The morning wind hit your face as you crossed the threshold, and the birds’ song pierced your ears like a sweet melody. However, as beautiful as it was, your brow furrowed at the hurry in your sister's movements. Surely, the letters couldn’t be that interesting, not to Elain, at least. She could barely stand still when the topic was on the table. Ah, the gossip you'd have today, sweet sister.

“Is there anything else you want from the city besides the letters?” Your tone was dismissive, but even the dullest of men would see the curiosity behind the question.

Elain tripped over something on the ground and almost pulled you down with her, making you question who the blind sister really was here.

She cleared her throat and finally slowed her pace. The hesitation was palpable, and the arm linked to yours grew tense as she nervously began fiddling with the sleeve of her dress.

“I... I was thinking about looking at some prettier engagement rings, maybe gold...” It came out like a croak, and that left you a little more confused. There was no doubt that Elain had good taste and could spot something beautiful from afar, so it was strange that she wanted to see new rings when she loved hers so much.

“I thought you were crazy about that one,” the sounds of people talking grew louder, and your nose wrinkled from the variety of smells; sweets, savory foods, pig dung, and, beneath it all, the fresh scent of pine and whiskey filled your lungs with a warm, inviting sensation.

“Steel” and “Feyre” and “shame” were the only words you managed to catch through the intoxicating fog of the delicious perfume you inhaled. But that was enough for no question to leave your lips.

Turning your focus back to the surroundings as your sister and cane guided you through the streets, bodies occasionally brushed past you, nearly knocking you down; shouts proclaiming devotion to the divine; more frantic cries from merchants trying to sell their goods to eat at the end of the day, and other sounds that were impossible to decipher.

As you walked, Elain stopped abruptly in her tracks. Confused, you turned your head to look at her but got no answer. Without saying a word, your sister started walking again, leaving the noise of the city behind. You quickened your steps to keep up with her, the wind certainly making your hair a tangled mess. At least you wouldn’t have to see it.

Elain slid a bit in the mud, and with a squeak, you stopped by her side. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her lungs struggled to keep up with her breathing. Gods, your sister was trying to kill you just so she wouldn’t have to share the inheritance.

“What in the hell-” you began but didn’t finish. The breeze had risen up your legs, making the hem of your dress flutter and leaving a coolness on your skin, only to disappear faster than it came.

“Azriel?” Azriel? He was the cause of your little sprint? Damn him, what was he doing in such an obvious place?

“Elain,” he greeted your sister, and as he turned to you, he spoke your name in a deep purr, sending a chill down your spine with the tone. You nodded in acknowledgment; your voice no longer belonged to you. “The letter. It’s here.”

Ah, he knew. He already knew the queens' letter had arrived today. How? You didn’t know.

“We were going to see it now,” Elain’s voice was syrupy, soft and sweet, almost like she didn’t know how to speak anymore.

A hum left Azriel’s throat. His trained eyes watched your shy form beside Elain, the corners of his lips tugged upwards but quickly disappeared as he turned his attention back to the eldest Archeron sister.

“Could you fetch it for me, Elain?” Azriel asked gently, and your sister nodded quickly, like a soldier. Not letting go of your hand, she motioned for you to go with her to fetch the letter. “Only you, please.”

Your feet stayed firmly planted, and now the air felt thin. Whatever the Shadowsinger had to say to you was making your nerves bubble.

Elain muttered in discomfort, clearly not wanting to leave you alone with someone she barely knew. Her hand squeezed yours lightly, and you pulled your hand free from her grip, distancing yourself from your sister. With your body facing the man, you encouraged Elain to go. He certainly wouldn’t kill you.

Still, your treacherous mind whispered.

With lips set in a line, Elain quickly made her way to her destination, disappearing into the crowd. The faster she went, the faster she’d be back.

Without your sister nearby, the silence was deafening and uncomfortable, and despite your brief interaction with Azriel, you still found the way his presence surrounded you intimidating.

“Do you have something to say? Or did you just make me stay here for your company?” The words came out sharper than you intended, and perhaps challenging such a powerful fae like him in broad daylight wasn’t the best idea. Shifting your weight, you crossed your arms like a shield. Not that you expected it to stop him.

Your ears perked up when you heard a rough chuckle leave Azriel. His lips pressed together; it wasn’t the response you were expecting.

“I didn’t,” he paused and licked his lips, thinking carefully about his next words. “But I feel like I do now.”

Ah, so much for being mysterious. If this non-human man wanted to make you squirm with anxiety, he was succeeding beautifully.

“And…” your voice carried impatience.

“And I don’t think you should be part of the meeting with the queens.”

Your mind stopped. It felt completely empty, focused only on trying to process Azriel’s words. Letting your arms fall to your sides, you lifted your chin, hoping you were looking at his face as you spoke. “Why? Is there a reason for this?

Simple and shyer than you intended.

Azriel was no longer amused. His face darkened into a scowl as he studied you from your structure to your features – sculpted nose, mouth pulled down, and then, eyes. His eyes were windows to his soul, so sweet that, even if not fully functional, could bring legions to their knees.

And that was the problem.

“The queens aren’t trustworthy, and I don’t want you to be a target. They’re bitter and vile with people…” His words rushed out, his wings tightening behind him, letting the weight of what he had to say burn his tongue. “...weaker ones.”

You bit your cheek until you tasted the faint copper of your blood. Indignation wasn’t the right word to describe what you were feeling, but the disbelief on your flushed face certainly expressed it.

Fragile. The Illyrian who barely knew you for more than a week was insulting you so openly, without a shred of shame. You might not see things like other people, but this made you grow a pair of balls like nothing else, and it wasn’t this male who was going to put you down now.

With clenched fists, you took a step toward him, closing the distance to a breath’s length. The smell of whiskey that had been so enticing returned, but now that you knew who it belonged to, it didn’t seem so intoxicating. Or maybe it was, a little, your mind whispered.

“I don’t think I gave you any right to make assumptions about me, fairy.” You spat the words, especially the scornful nickname you secretly used for him and his brothers.

Azriel growled low, and ah, it wasn’t because of your words.

The rustling of leaves made you step back from the winged male, and quickly, his features softened. Elain stopped next to you, breathless, handing the letter to Azriel, as if it were burning her.

“Here, it arrived last night,” she said before taking your arm and walking away as quickly as possible.

“Thank you,” Azriel acknowledged with a nod. Elain smiled tightly, already guiding you away. His voice came again, but this time as a warning, making your shoulders tense. “Don’t forget what I said.” And then he was gone, swallowed by his shadows as if he had never been there.

Elain furrowed her brow and turned to you, questioning what Azriel had meant.

“Nothing, he didn’t say anything.” Nothing you cared about, at least.

“Hold your breath,” Nesta reprimanded you, her fingers pulling tighter on your corset strings, her delicate fingers and the crushing leather threatening to break your ribs.

“Tighten it any more, and watch me turn purple on this floor, sister.” You gasped out the words with difficulty. Nesta clearly wanted to kill you. You knew she was against you exposing yourself at the meeting, but you never thought she'd deliberately try to kill you.

“Stop whining, it's ready.” Nesta grumbled, and then her presence pulled away from you, her footsteps echoing as she walked to the vanity in front of you. Your head tilted to the side at the sound of objects clinking. She was making a mess, no doubt.

Nesta's heat returned as she stopped in front of you. Her warm hand held your chin firmly but gently, and the bristles of a brush tickled your lips. It was soft, sticky, with a faint scent of roses. Lipstick.

Nesta was dressing you up like a doll. Your chest warmed at the feeling. Having your sister care for and pamper you like this was a delight. It was fleeting, but so appreciated when it happened.

Pulling the brush from your lips, Nesta glanced at you. Long, trembling lashes, cheeks rosy with powder, angelic features. You were beautiful. A slight tug appeared on her lips, satisfied with her work.

“If you keep staring at me, I’m going to start thinking you like me.” Your playful voice earned an eye roll from Nesta, who, with a huff, stepped away from you, already missing the warmth of her presence.

"Don't be fooled," Nesta retorted playfully, you expected it to be a joke as she took your arm in hers and began guiding you out of your room and into the living room. The shrill creak of the door alerted you that you were passing through the main hall, just a few steps away from the comfortable armchairs that Elain had arranged for you. "Sit down, they should be arriving soon."

Groping for the armchair, you slowly lowered yourself until you were seated. Your sister settled beside you, and barely half a second later, a knock echoed on the door. Nesta took a deep breath beside you, and abruptly stood up, walking toward the door. As much for a brief break, a laugh escaped you. Hopefully, she wouldn't hear it.

The sound of what seemed like a crowd of footsteps approached where you were, low, nervous murmurs could be heard, and a melodic voice, different from those you already knew, made your eyebrow raise in curiosity.

"Sister, you look beautiful," Feyre greeted you warmly, her hands on your shoulder for a hug. A little awkwardly, you stood to hug her better. Nestling your face into her neck, you squeezed her tighter. It felt like you hadn't seen her in a decade. The sound of someone clearing their throat made your sister pull away from the hug, to your disappointment. "Sorry. Mor, this is my younger sister."

Mor? Another fae? You turned to where you thought she was. Mor smiled and approached, taking your hand in hers. Her sudden action made you jump slightly.

"It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Feyre has told me so much about you." Her voice was gentle, her shoulders relaxed, and you let yourself return her smile. She seemed like a woman with a strong spirit. Perhaps Nesta could find a friend in her.

"I'm happy to meet another one of my sister’s friends." You greeted her properly with a nod.

"That's enough, Mor. You're suffocating her." A cold shiver ran down your spine when Azriel's rough voice reached you. The memory of your last encounter still vivid in your mind. Your face twisted into a grimace. Mor huffed and pulled away, muttering about how Azriel was a joy-killer. You could agree with that.

Feyre, beside you, looked at the two of you with suspicion. Since you entered, Azriel hadn't taken his eyes off you, following every movement like a hawk. Your reaction to him only seemed to intrigue her more. With a kiss on your forehead, she guided you to sit again.

It seemed everyone was settling into their places, Elain arriving elegantly late and sitting to your right, Nesta a little farther to your left. You couldn’t tell exactly where everyone else was, but someone was behind you. You could feel the warmth of their presence.

"Stubborn artisan." Damn fae.

Azriel teased you with the nickname. If you could give him nicknames, why not? He took a step closer, leaning against your chair, ignoring the sharp look you shot at him. He bent down slightly, just enough for you to hear, his velvety tone making your hairs stand on end.

"You seemed more inclined to listen that night." Your face heated with the memory. With a small grin, Azriel stood up and turned his gaze away, completely satisfied with himself.

Before you could think of a witty retort, a loud bang echoed through the house, making everyone tense. They’ve arrived. The human queens were finally here. It was time to begin the meeting that would put everything at stake.

TAGLIST: @dearestdaffodils @going-through-shit

@valeridarkness @wallacewillow0773638

@harrystylesfan2686 @carnationworld

@applerubyy @saltedcoffeescotch

@esposadomd @justdreamstars

@microwaveallthedemons @cherryinsalemverse

@stqrgirlies-blog @brujitafantomatico

@bionic-donut @kemillyfreitas

@judig92 @sassybluebird

@frietiemeloen @success78 @mariahoedt @macimads @prongslena @hnyclover @bravo-delta-eccho @cherryinsalemverse @weasleyreidstyles

*Please, if I tagged you wrong or you want to be removed from the taglist let me know!*

[ohcroculus]

pretty eyes — sirius o. black

summary; you know when he wants to be alone with you.

wc; 0.4k

warnings/notes; none.

series; for my lover, a kiss – footsprints.

‘shall we get out of here?’ he asked with his gaze.

you were hearing words from a friend of your group at your side, smiling at an unfunny joke when you raised your head, bumping into his grey eyes across the room.

he was drinking a bit from his glass, you doubted what it was, though perhaps –and most certainly– pumpkin juice.

it was fun, you had to admit. to be so close and yet not. to know what the other was thinking and that no one understood the exchange of thoughts as well as you could.

perhaps brief glances in the corridors or at mealtimes were knowledgeable to observant people or your friends, but the obvious connection you two had was something else.

something else.

‘to what?’ you questioned, smiling at him and lowering your head, with an air of shyness. go out where? explore the school or get out of the castle?

‘i want to get some air.’ he waved his hand, guiding it to his nose, indicating the need to have a moment between just the two of you and you smiled, pretending it was the conversation you were having with the gryffindor group next to you.

you noticed that his friend to the side –james potter, easy to identify by his glasses– stopped talking, noticing that sirius wasn't responding to his words and was quick to look around, searching for the black-haired boy's interest, to which you ducked your head again, scratching your cheek briefly to add a couple of thoughts to elias.

when he didn't find anyone and kept talking, you looked up.

‘come on,’ insisted sirius, who had never ceased to look at you. you would never tell him, but you thanked his mother for giving him such a good attribute.

──and how could you refuse those pretty eyes?

you rose from the sofa with a yawn, gave a little laugh to your group and said a brief goodbye, without making it too clear where you were going.

after a few minutes of leaving the common room, you heard sirius speak before he finally appeared and calmly intertwined your hand with his.

"what did you make up this time?" you asked as you both walked in the direction of the stairs. sirius jumped up before the stairs changed and grabbed your arm so you wouldn't fall.

he shrugged with his eyes glistening.

"i didn't make it up. i want to pee. come with me." he snickered and you grimaced.

from his eyes, it was obvious he wasn't lying.

"but you'll do it in the bathroom—i don't want to see you pee in the trees again."

taglist; [ @jaeviii ; @hisparentsgallerryy ]

a/n; would you like me to take requests?

[ashleyrosereads]

Sun Shower - Ch. 1

a Ridoc x fem reader fanfiction

I know I'm not the only one obsessed with Ridoc after Onyx Storm so I putting all my passion into a Ridoc x reader fanfiction that I hope you enjoy! also eventually this will be 18+ just be patient

The chiming of the bell announces eight o'clock, it's time.

The ringing strikes my ears and throughout my entire body as I move toward the line forming for the riders quadrant, chancing a look at the northern turret. The direction I should be heading in.

I keep my hands from fidgeting, as I wait in the long line. Fidgeting shows nerves. Shows weakness. I will not be making myself a target on day one. Heather told me everything I needed to know for the impending day. Showing nerves on day one was an easy tell of a weak cadet, she said. I trusted every word of wisdom she gave me over the summer, she has been the only girl in our village who lived to tell the tale of the riders quadrant in many years. Even if I didn't trust the information she gave me, it was the only information I had. So I clung to it with every fiber of me being.

I kept my hands on the straps of my pack as I waited, watching the world around me continue to move. There was a breeze in the air, and it was sunny for now. The darkening clouds on the horizon didn't calm any of my nerves though. I could only hope I would get across the parapet before any kind of storm hit.

A strangled sob came from my left. A mother was crying in a man's arms as her child walked into the line. Other families were scattered around clinging to their candidates. Some are sending them off with smiles while others it’s with tears hugging their cheeks. Just like her.

I couldn't help but feel utterly alone in that moment.

Of my own fault though. My dad begged to be here and see me off. But he didn’t need to see me openly defying the lifelong legacy of our healer family to become a rider. It’s better he’s in the dark, then the stress of daily life won’t become harder wondering if his daughter could die at any moment.

He would understand why, but it would still kill him knowing what I’m doing every day. Even knowing I’m doing it for mom. After her death, we'd both been inconsolable. He buried himself in the farm. And the more I thought about Basgiath, the more I couldn’t stand being in the sidelines healing. I want revenge. And I plan on getting it. So I buried myself in training.

The line continues to move and I leave my hands on the straps of my pack to hold me steady. The weight of my backpack is light, but once I get to the front of the line it feels as if I filled it with boulders as I bend over and write my name on the blank sheet before being guided into the door of the turret.

The bright light from the outside dimmed automatically in the dark column of stone. There wasn't a window in sight in the spiraling stairwell leading to the parapet above. I continued forward until I reached the cadet in front of me, about ten steps up.

He seemed to be chatting away with the guy in front of him. He wasn't the only one as there was a muttered chatter that drowned out what anyone was actually saying. I wasn't sure what I was expecting but chatter wasn't it. I assumed it would be quiet, foreboding maybe? How could anyone have light conversation at a time like this. I can’t help but keep moving forward, breathing through the nerves and closely watching each step so I don’t have to fall to a deadly fate too early.

The lack of windows mixed in with the heavy breaths of those surrounding me made for a taxing climb. The walls felt as if they were closing in, not knowing if the staircase was actually getting thinner or the anxiety of what I was doing was catching up to me.

I went to take a step, looking too closely at the stair under my foot and not in front of me. I didn't realize the line had stopped moving and walked right into the candidate in front of me. Almost causing a domino effect of tripping, if he hadn’t so smoothly caught himself on the wall of stone. The man turned toward me, his dark eyebrow lifted hiding behind his curly black hair that hung over his bronze forehead. He crossed his arms, showing off his bulging muscles.

Did all riders look like... this?

“Well hello” his sure voice purrs. “Trying to get rid of the competition early?” He says with a lilting voice.

I froze for a moment. Not sure what to say to that...Joke? “No. Just not paying attention. Sorry about that” I answer. He shrugs it off.

“No harm, good last minute balance practice” his smile hasn’t faltered, as he waited for her to do something, say something. What was I supposed to say to that? “Ridoc” he adds, holding out a hand.

“I'm not interested in making friends” I try to snap. The last thing I need is to be getting attached to anyone on the first day of death camp.

“What about the benefits?” He asks, making me scoff. What is this guy on to make him so damn lighthearted walking into the most dangerous quadrant in existence.

The line moves and he takes a step up backwards, not glancing behind him. No hand on the wall, nothing.

My confidence that he will make it across seems more sure than my own.

“You setting up your conquests already?” I ask because, well honestly, maybe the other people have a point. As the light toward the top of the turret brightens a distraction is alleviating.

“Well I’m looking to celebrate tonight, this guy here’s not interested” he gestures his head toward the blonde guy in front of him who doesn’t acknowledge the exchange.

“How unfortunate for you.” If I had this guys confidence I’d rule the world.

“Well it doesn’t have to be.” He winks. I can’t help but laugh. In the eye of death this man is cracking jokes.

I can hear the front of the line now. People giving their names before crossing and shouting outside. Is that rain too? Oh shit.

“So my room or yours tonight?” He leans against the stone wall, crossing his legs.

“We don’t get rooms until after threshing” I correct him. Heather told me that. She also told me not to get distracted by advances until after threshing, not only because then I'll have my own room but also because if someone distracts me then they can easily stab me in the back. Literally.

“Right right.” He bites his lip, contemplating “we will just have to find a nice broom cupboard then. I’m sure there’s plenty.”

“You are-“

“I know, irresistible.” I’m struck silent. Something is what I was going to say but I don’t find it in me to continue as we’re only a few people from the front. He goes to turn around but peaks back over his shoulder.

“You want to skip me in line?” He asks pointing at the spot in front of him.

“Why so you can push me off as punishment for almost getting you killed before parapet?” I ask, feeling my brow raising in question. I didn't realize it was possible for his smile to widen.

“No, there was no almost killing. You’ll have to be more inventive than tripping me on a staircase if that's your goal. I was thinking that if I follow you to the other side I’ll have more motivation to get there so I can start scoping out those cupboards.”

I let out another scoffing laugh. “Your impending death isn’t enough?”

“Not when you’re the other option” he winks.

“Name” the cadet barks from the entrance. Ridoc turns his head to the cadet. There were two there one taking names and another brooding by the opening.

And my gods they do all look like him.

“Ridoc Gamlyn” he says and the cadet scribbles the name.

“Alright. Go on.” He jerks his head to the exit of the turret. Ridoc turns one more time.

"See you on the other side Beautiful" He says before strutting out onto the parapet. The weather had worsened, there was a small spot of sun light in the dark clouds but not enough. Luckily the rain was only a slight drizzle and the wind didn't sound too relentless but making it across was still going to be a feat.

"Name" Barked the cadet, this time to me.

"Y/N Y/L/N" He scribbles it, barely looking over the parchment before waving me off.

"You're next."

[shivroythinker]

rewatching mass in time of war and the whole shiv-kendall interaction where they're arguing over whether she knew about cruises and she's like i never got in the pool with any of those creeps and he's like yeah because dad let a gang of creeps run cruises and she's like no kendall because i was fifteen is just so. like interesting to me. it feels like one of very few direct, in-your-face reminders that shiv was both the only girl with three brothers but it wasn't just her brothers, she was a girl SURROUNDED by mainly men for most of her girlhood. and i think for all of kendall's posturing in that scene and his maybe-partly-authentic interest in dismantling the sexist abuse in waystar he has probably not considered that his only sister had an entirely different set of experiences considering he thinks a fifteen year old girl not getting in the pool with a bunch of grown men must mean she knew that those men were involved in large-scale sex crimes,,, and like whether she or any of them knew or not as children is a different conversation but i just think that scene is interesting from the perspective of like. we hear so little about their childhoods and it feels like a glimpse into the isolation of a girlhood without a present mother or sisters or anyone to guide you or contextualize your experiences. materially you have everything you could ever want but still you are profoundly alone

[exhaslo]

I KNOW IM LATE FOR EASTER BUT WHAT IF Y/N DRESSED AS A LITTLE BUNNY W/ THOSE BUNNY SUITS TEASING MIGUEL WHILE HE'S WORKING THEN CATCHING Y/N OFF BY FUCKING HER SENSELESS?? (You should include "Want a carrot" and just include Miguel simply making y/n give him a BJ >_<) ITS ONLY IF U WANT TO BTW YOU DONT NEED TO IF YOU DONT WANT TOO :(

AND I'M TOTALLY LATE IN RESPONDING LOLOLOLOLOLOL

Warning: MINORS DNI, SMUT, oral (m-receiving), role play, teasing, dirty talk, rough sex, breeding kink

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright, the Spider-Society should be pretty quiet today, so no one should notice me sneak in. You'll take care of the cameras, right Lyla?"

There you were, standing nervously in front of a mirror while speaking to the AI. Today was Easter and you had wanted to surprise Miguel while he was working. Give him a little stress free day while having some fun.

"Yep, just say the word when you're there and I shall get those doors open for you. Not a single soul will know you're there!" Lyla said with a chirp.

That gave you some relief. You were Miguel's girlfriend for two years now. You knew about his secret life and happily supported him any way you could. And right now, Miguel needed a break! He had been hold up in either Alchemax or the Spider Society for about three days now.

What better than to give him a little treat on Easter?

You took deep breathes as you fixed your tight bunny suit. The tail so cute and fluffy and the ears were being held in your coat pocket. It was difficult to make your way to Miguel's secret second life without anyone questioning your trench coat.

Once Lyla gave you the all clear, you rushed into the building. Normally, the Spider Society was impossible to enter for normal people. Miguel didn't want anyone accidently stumbling in. Which was why you had to rely on Lyla.

Chuckling nervously as you followed Lyla's directions, you were starting to feel the heat rise to your face.

This idea sounded so good in your head.

Placing the bunny ears on, you couldn't help but admire the structure of the building. Everything was so different and unique. Made for a Spider. Resisting a chuckle, you hurried to Miguel's office. The place really was empty.

"Alright, best of luck," Lyla said with a grin before disappearing.

You took a deep breathe before entering that dark lair. Dropping your trench coat, you proudly showed off your sexy bunny suit. A nervous smile against your lips as you saw Miguel on his platform, grunting and complaining about why it was lowering.

"Aye! Lyla!" Miguel hissed. You just smiled,

"Sounds like someone needs help from a little bunny~" You cooed. Miguel jolted slightly before turning to face you,

"(Y/N)? What are-What are you wearing?!"

"Happy Easter, Miggy. Care to feed this bunny a carrot for the long trip?" You asked, your hands stroking down his chest.

Miguel scoffed softly, capturing your lips in a kiss. He licked your lower lip, grunting softly as you started to stroke his dick through his suit.

"Amor (love), you could have gotten caught,"

"I had help,"

You got on your knees, kissing and licking Miguel's crotch. Your glossy eyes glancing up at him, waiting for him to cave and get rid of his suit. With another grunt, you got your wish and began to swirl your tongue against the length of his shaft.

Miguel groaned and grunted to every lick and stroke you gave him. Happy to see this reaction, you placed your lips against his tip and began to suck. His hands resting against your head, guiding you against his harden cock.

"What a bad bunny," Miguel hummed, "Sneaking into this place just for a quick fuck?"

"MhO mphm a (Who said anything about quick?)" You said to say.

"Shit,"

Miguel gripped your hair, fastening your pace. He moaned and whined against his cock, causing Miguel to lean forward. You knew that the vibrations of you talking against his dick sent shivers down his spine.

Which was why you liked to do it.

With another whine, you felt his dick hit the back of your throat. Your rolled your eyes back as heat pooled down to your cunt. Miguel grunted as he thrusted once more into the back of your mouth, cumming. With a hard swallow, you pulled away, panting softly,

"Someone...needed that..." You said with a soft chuckle.

"Says the one seducing me," Miguel lifted you up with ease, kissing you firmly, "Does my little bunny want this carrot anywhere else?"

Before you could say anything, Miguel's fingers were already over your soaked sex. You shuddered and whined as his fingers easily made a bigger mess of your suit that it already was. With a smirk, Miguel used his talon to rip the cloth over your pussy.

"M-Miguel! I spent a lot on this suit!" You pouted. Miguel silenced you with another kiss,

"Then I'll buy another. Can't keep my horny bunny waiting too long."

"Mphm~!"

You flung your head back as Miguel laid you against his desk, sliding his cock inside your folds. With ease, Miguel made himself at home with his dick kissing your cervix. Your gummy walls tightening around him so perfectly.

"Does my little horny bunny enjoy this?" Miguel pressed his hips against yours, causing you to moan and squirm, "You know what they say about that, right?"

You shuddered in response, holding onto Miguel as he slowly thrusted inside of you. Your whines not bothering him as he continued to torment you. His slow pace making you wetter as you tried to move your own hips to fasten the pace.

"Guess my bunny really wants a baby,"

"Mhm~ Ah~ M-Migueeeeeeel~" You whimpered.

Miguel leaned down to kiss you once more before he finally picked up his pace. His hands against your hips as his thrusts began rapid and rough. Your body shivering as you felt jolts run up your spine. Your cunt convulsing against Miguel's cock as you cam around him.

"Feel that? My bunny can't wait to be filled by me," Miguel whispered in your ear.

Your moans were getting louder as Miguel abused your cunt. Your head spinning as you focused on his dick. Miguel chuckled as he kissed you before slapping himself once more, giving you the first of many loads of his cum.

"Is this a tail I feel?" Miguel chuckled as he turned you on your stomach. His eyes sparkling at the sight, "How tempting. How long has my horny bunny been planning this?"

"Hn~!" You gripped onto the edge of his desk as Miguel entered your filled pussy again, "J-Just...ah~ ah~"

"Can't hear you," Miguel started his rough pace again, enjoying the sloppy sounds of your juices against his cock, "Want my babies that bad, little bunny?"

"Yesh~ Yesh~" You cried out, feeling your core burning once more.

"Then can my bunny keep up with me?"

You gasped as Miguel pinched your clit, causing you to come undone by him. Your body trembling in pleasure as his cock kept thrusting inside of you. Miguel lifted your ass up slightly, hitting you deeper than before.

"Good girl,"

---------

"Hm? Is my horny bunny finally waking up?" Miguel asked with a soft chuckle.

You groaned softly, feeling sore and groggy. Fluttering your eyes open, you noticed that you were back at Miguel's home. With a deep inhale, you nuzzled your head against his chest, wanting to sleep for a bit longer.

"Awe, can't have that. It's still Easter, and as far as I know...my cute little dirty bunny hasn't had her fill yet."

"Miggy...." You whined, looking into his lustful eyes, "You need to destress more often."

"I am," Miguel chuckled as he pinned you against the bed, "Now, let's keep making that baby."

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HOPE YOU ENOJYED!!!!

Hopefully the next holiday request I update in time, hahaaaaa

[samsblades]

✶ . ၄၃ . noticed — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, implied depression, feelings of guilt and inadequacy, overall just poor mental health, swearing, 1.1K words. requested !

summary : your depression isn't making things easy for you these days. sam notices and gives you what small comforts he can.

sam can see you slipping. he can see how hard you’re trying not to, how you’re trying to hide it. he lets you, for a bit, because he knows that sometimes you don’t like for anyone else to give it any attention.

but you’re falling behind on research and dean doesn’t know why, so he’s cutting no slack. sam is soft and understanding with you, but he knows he can’t control dean and that you wouldn’t like him to intervene either. all this, and you hate to ask for help, too.

you’re in the library, stuck by your computer and overwhelmed by the amount of books on the topic for this long and tiring case. so you rest your head on the hard wood for a moment, trying to gather energy that you don’t have. then you hear the loud front door swing open, signaling dean’s return from the grocery store. you have to at least look busy, so you drag yourself back up into a sitting position and scan over the pages of a book that you’re not actually reading. 

dean passes you with arms full of plastic bags and a half assed greeting. he’s tired from last night, and anything’s fine by you as long as he doesn’t say anything passive aggressive like he does sometimes. you know he’s frustrated with you, wishing you’d find something actually helpful. you just can’t bring yourself to do much of anything at all.

when you’ve finally heard the door to dean’s room shut, after staring at the page and listening to the sounds of him putting away groceries in the kitchen, you drop your head back down, feeling useless and restless but unable to act on it. the next time you hear footsteps, they’re sam’s. you can tell just by listening for a moment or two. he’s taller, but he walks quieter than dean. though his footfalls are a little heavy now, in the comfort and privacy of the bunker.

he approaches faster than you expect and most definitely catches you with your head on the table before you sit up to look in his direction.

the smile you give him when you lift your head is unconvincing and the one he returns to you is soft and understanding. it’s clear to you that he can see you’re unwell. you sigh and your smile fades.

“hey,” he murmurs, all gentle and kind, never pitying but certainly careful. he closes the gap between your seat and the doorway, quietly shutting both your laptop and the book before placing a hand on the side of your head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “let’s take a break, yeah? grab lunch in town, or maybe some ice cream. or both. how’s that sound, honey?”

you purse your lips, feeling loved by the gesture but wanting to do anything except go out right now. you lean into his touch anyway, then after a moment of hesitation, mumble back, “i’d rather stay inside.”

“okay,” he agrees immediately, “we can do that, too. why don’t you sit in the kitchen with me? i’ll make you something simple. dean should’ve gotten the stuff for those sandwiches you like, yeah?” he holds his hand out for you to guide you away from the library.

“alright,” you accept quietly after a moment of just looking at his hand, waiting for you, reaching out to you to pull you up. when your hand lands in his, it’s a little easier to breathe, somehow. he closes his fingers around yours and gives the gentlest of tugs to urge you up. you start to stand and the hand on your head reaches down to pull your chair out for you. his hand stays in yours as he leads you to the kitchen.

he has you sit as he makes a sandwich for the both of you, talking aimlessly about a documentary he watched last weekend but didn’t have the chance to tell you about until now. his voice stays muted and constant, knowing you don’t want anything loud but shouldn’t stay stuck in silence.

he’s right, of course. the lull of his voice keeps your mind off of all else, and you find yourself actually able to pay attention to the words that fall from his lips. it’s nice to watch him, too.

sitting across from you, watching you take the last bite of the simple food he made you, spreads the warmth of satisfaction through his chest. frankly, he’s worried about you, but it’s nice to know that you’ll let him take care of you like this. subtle and easy, but essential. not too loud and not too outwardly worried, but showing he’s noticed and is going to actually do something about it. there’s no judgment in his eyes or his actions, only care and softness and love.

sam’s serious about taking a break. he doesn’t let you go back to that library table to wallow in your self-criticism of being unable to get anything done. he brings you back to his bed and holds you in his arms and kisses the top of your head, maybe more times than he needs to.

“you can tell me when you need me,” he murmurs into your hair, his arms wrapped around your middle. “doesn’t have to be out loud. but if you can, and there’s something i’m not doing that i could be, you tell me, yeah? ‘cause i’ll do it. i want to, for you, honey.”

you take a deep breath in, let it out slow. “thank you,” you whisper, “this helps, really.” and you mean that, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. sometimes, walking away from the things you should be doing just makes you feel worse, like you don’t really deserve to do anything nice. if you can’t do what you should, it feels like the least you could do is sit there and beat yourself up about it. 

sam pulls you away from that mindset. his love isn’t burdensome, he lets you believe you deserve it. his arms are a shield and his chest is a place for your head to really rest. he brings you both sleep and consciousness without guilt or anxious embarrassment. 

and when you inevitably get antsy again, he notices that, too. he tells you sternly, sweetly, to stay comfortable on the bed as he fetches your laptop and book. once back, he still insists on keeping you settled right against him, your head slotted perfectly into the crook of his neck as he reads the book aloud to you, either until you find something useful or the pages run out.

no matter what, he’ll keep you held, keep you steady in his arms.

[erwinsvow]

part two of this

you’re still wondering how you ended up like this—rafe’s arm around your shoulder, a cup of water in your hand because he’d decided for you that you’d had enough alcohol tonight, standing in a big circle with his friends. you knew bits and pieces about rafe, some comments your now ex-boyfriend would make in passing—always bad things—and the fact that he was a regular at these parties for more than one reason. but standing next to rafe, with him acting like you belong to him, was something you could have never expected. 

his friends look at you a little curiously, but they’re still nice. rafe stares down anyone who he catches looking at your low hemline or exposed chest. he’s making his rounds to sell yayo, and you accompany him, still just tipsy enough to have lowered your inhibitions and not catch on to the mean way some of the girls look at you.

“wha’s yayo?” you question, looking up at rafe again, like you’ve been doing all night. he’s undeniably handsome, but it seems even more so when he’s being so nice to you like this.

“nothin’ you need to know about, kid,” is all he says in response, guiding your water cup to your mouth again and tipping it back a little so you drink. a little bit spills down the side of your mouth and he wipes it away with his thumb. 

“can i try some?” he laughs, handing over another tiny bag to a boy with a handshake and pocketing the money, and then guides you away, so it’s just the two of you.

“not yet.” you let out a whine—it must be fun if everyone at the bonfire is chasing him around for some.

“why not?”

“‘cause cheap beer is too much for you. now stop askin’ and help me find this stupid boyfriend of yours.”

“ex-boyfriend,” you correct, immediately. rafe looks pleased when you say that, making you smile even wider, if not a little dopey.

“excuse me, that’s right. ex-boyfriend. where's he at?” 

you don’t actually care about finding him anymore—you’re having a lot of fun with rafe like this. but you get into your head a little bit, thinking rafe is only doing this to make him jealous, and then he’ll leave to spend time with some other girl. you hold on a little tighter to his arm, looking up with another pout.

“maybe this way,” you say, guiding him in the exact opposite direction of where your ex was last. “maybe those people want the yayo. they seem friendly.” rafe laughs again, which makes you beam. he does sell to the partygoers you pointed out to him, they open the little baggie and start snorting right infront of him—and you. you watch intently, and when they ask rafe if he wants a bump, he refuses.

“not today. gotta stay sharp for my girl.” 

you’re starting to think you don’t need any drugs, if something as simple as rafe calling you his girl makes you feel so deliriously happy. you’re buzzing from your own personal high until you hear a voice call your name, and you don’t turn until rafe does, the arm around your shoulder gravitating down to your waist, holding on tightly. 

the beer and rafe and everything else in the air still has you pretty hazy—you don’t hear anything other than your ex asking you what the hell you’re doing, and rafe answering for you. it doesn’t take long for him to notice the little baggies of white powder on the table behind you two, the possessive way rafe keeps his hands on you, and the fact that rafe looks as angry as anyone’s ever seen him, before they break out in punches and curse words. 

you’re drunk enough to want to help rafe, but one of his friends holds you back, tells you to leave it and that rafe will win anyways. you watch him throw punches at your ex but the second he takes a punch, you can’t watch anymore. 

rafe does win, in the end. your ex gets dragged away by his friends, and you’re sure there’s red everywhere. when rafe finds you again, he spits out some blood and wipes his mouth. you stare at him afraid and unsure, thinking that you’re the last person he wants to see now, the one that got him into a fist-fight. you bite your cheek, playing with your hands and staring down at your shoes again, until rafe comes up and guides you to his truck. the parking lot is clearing out, and you sit in his passenger seat fiddling with the hem of your dress while he drives you back home. 

you don’t speak until he parks infront of your house.

“i-i’m so sorry, rafe, really. i didn’t want that to happen. i’m really sorry.” everything feels more clear in his car, moonlight piercing through and shining on the two of you. it was stupid to do any of that—stupid to get rafe involved and stupider still to get him hurt.

“why’re you sorry? i threw the first punch.”

“you did?”

“you didn’t see?” he questions, and you want to hide your face in your hands.

“no, i-uh, i couldn’t watch, your friend took me away. uhm, kelce.” he laughs, to your surprise.

“don’t lose any sleep over it, kid. didn’t like the way he was talkin’ about you.”

“really?” you ask, and you hate how hopeful your voice sounds. you like that he cares, you hope he really does care.

“yeah.” you can’t hold it back any longer, leaning towards him and giving him a big kiss on his cheek. 

“thank you rafe,” you say quietly, biting your lip, hoping you didn’t misunderstand him.

“yeah, kid, whatever. get inside.” he leans over you to open the passenger side door for you, before returning to his position and staring at you from his seat. just as you start to move, he grabs your wrist, making you turn to look. “y’not gonna like what happens if i ever see you with him again. got it?”

you look at him like a deer caught in headlights, eyes big and wide, lips parted. you nod.

“got it.”

“good night, kid.”

[sanakimohara]

have you seen the way minho grabbed changbin?

[ Oh I saw it alright ;)… ]

[ MEAN DOM ] L. M.

pairing: minho x fem! reader

summary: minho manhandling you and just being a little toxic..

playlist:

type: headcannon / no plot

warnings: MDNI + SMUT + NSFW + IMPLIED DOM/SUB DYNAMIC + MEAN MINHO + SLAPPING + SLIGHT DEGRADATION + ORAL

a/n: Idk what this is honestly. I just wrote it right after seeing the inbox message. Let’s hope some of you little heathens like it.

Mean Dom Minho always being a little mean and direct when manhandling anyone, and everyone is so naturally fitting for him. And don't we all love to see him do it?

Mean Dom Minho unconsciously reaching a hand out for your waist, even if you’re merely six inches away from him, to dig his fingertips into your hip to pull you closer to him is a constant habit of his. He doesn't need any reason to touch or guide you. He wants to—all the time. No matter if it hurts you a little bit. There’s no point in squirming or wriggling away. It's a losing game for you the moment you're in his line of sight.

Mean Dom Minho bends you over any surface at any given moment in private. A hand tangled through your hair or clasped around the nape of your neck as he kicks your feet apart and angles your body into whatever position he feels like fucking you senseless in.

Mean Dom Minho, whose handprints are clear on your skin. Red and deep maroon imprints scatter the soft expanse of your body. He’s addicted to marking up your ass until your sob for him to stop, to give you a chance to quit shaking and allow yourself time to adjust to the excitement vibrating through you every time his open palm collides with your tingling skin. But he won't stop. He never does until he's satisfied. He hits you until those tears running down your cheeks can’t compare to the creamy slick trailing from your folds.

You can’t sit comfortably anywhere for days on end. You feel too embarrassed to explain why sitting in his lap is your only choice when the other members notice your aversion to empty seats.

Shame and guilt eat away at you under their passing glances of worry, but you're too flustered by the whisper of a smile on Minho’s lips as he kisses your neck in a twisted gesture of comfort to reassure them nothing is bothering you.

He’s humiliating you without even trying.

It's unfair.

Unforiging even.

And he’ll never stop doing it.

Mean Dom Minho is easily annoyed when he’s focused on a task, able to ignore you for ten minutes before he snaps and grabs you by the neck. You wince in shock and slight pain as he twists you around to lean in on him, pulling and tugging his hold on you until your whines simmer down into an apology. “M’ sorry, m sorry m sorry-“

“No you aren’t.”

He pulls again, forcing your head backward and steadying your back against his chest. His glare is direct, calculated, and increasingly suggestive.

Your lips tremble, and you suddenly fear what he might do with you. You weren't at all comforted by the realization of being put into a vulnerable position with little effort on his part. “Min…I-I really…am-“

“Sorry?” he scoffs, lips curling into a smile, barely easing his stern gaze. “All that persisting and whining and crying while I was working, but now you’re sorry?”

You swallow hard, heat rushing to your cheeks, coloring them a rose red as he roughly releases you from his grip.

Mean Dom Minho doesn’t let you revel in the split seconds of freedom, shoving you into a wall with one hand while the other drops his phone on the nearest surface. The smile begging to show on your face morphs into a sly smirk, seeing his head tilt at you. “This what you wanted right, sweetheart?” He purrs quietly, inching closer to you until you breathe in every breath he lets out.

“To piss me off when I'm working?”

It’s hard to form a thought or force a sound out of your mouth when he stares straight into your wandering eyes, raising a steady hand to your chin, so you have no choice but to look him in the face.

“I’m sorr-“

“And I’m not convinced you really are sorry …” he seethes.

Your lips press shut, guilty tears in your eyes as he lands a fleeting slap across your face. “You’re gonna have to do better than that…”

It’s a threat.

A dare to see if you can dig a deeper hole for yourself...

And you take him up on it with little regard for keeping your dignity intact because there's no better way to get under his skin.

“I’m s-“

Another slap, harder, quicker.

“Not good enough …try again…” he mutters, expression unchanging and eyes darkening, hearing you whimper.

You take another breath, “I’m-“

And another, sharper than the first few strikes across your reddening cheeks. He lowers the same hand, beginning to leave its mark on your flushed cheeks to secure a bruising grip on your jaw.

“You can do so much better than that, sweetheart…”

You hesitate, knowing what he wants but still clinging to your dormant pride.

Mean Dom Minho, who breaks down your stubbornness with ease. He’s mean to you. Rough with you. Pushing your wanin ego until you can’t stand being talked down to any longer and giving in to what he wants.

“Much better,” he sighs, watching through half-lidded eyes as you lower to your knees in front of him, mouth slipping open to suck on his thumb as he cups your chin. His erection stares you right in the face, poking through his sweats and twitching the second your hands rise to rest on his toned thighs.

Your mouth waters as he backs your head into the wall, his free hand being a guard between the hard surface and your soft scalp.

You suck on his fingers sloppily, letting him guide your head at a slow pace, whining in disappointment when he pulls them out of your warm mouth to smear the spit and gloss across your parted lips.

Mean Dom Minho allows a smile to cross his face, hands running through your hair, beckoning you towards his cock as your hands ease the throbbing muscle out from thin layers of fabric.

Mean Dom Minho is content with fucking your face just as rough as he handles you. Using its warmth until your jaw falls slack and your drool, mixed with his precum, streams down your chin. You don’t fight him, staring up at him through long lashes that flutter with pride each time he moans your name and curses under his breath, feeling the passion you put into sucking him off.

“This s’ exactly what you deserve, baby…the only thing an attention whore like you needs.…” he groans loudly, laughing wryly, hearing and feeling you gag around his cock.

You’re offered no warning when his cum seeps down your throat and coats your tongue, and you don’t expect one because you know he’s right.

You needed him to treat you this way.

To handle you however and whenever he wanted to.

a/n: the moment in question for those who are wondering.. 🖤

other links: n/a

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He's so fucking...ugh, I can't even begin to explain my visceral need for him to do this to me…

[chocochipsushi]

𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑼𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊’𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

🌸Word count: 5.3K

🌸AU: Toji as your father’s best friend, consoling you with his cock after a fight with your dad

🌸CW: cockwarming, toji calling reader all sorts of pretty names, fucking while reader's dad is around, unprotected sex, fluff

🌸A/N: Hello... I am here to clarify some things. I found out recently that I got a pretty established and amazing fanartist on Twitter into a situation where they received backlash for recreating one of my Uncle Toji scenes. I felt so bad because antis were giving the artist shit for something I wrote. So I am here to let all of you know that:

1) reader's age was never specifically spelled out bc I wanted everyone to be able to relate to the reader's age and not be restrained by a number in the story. If I knew that there was a rule where we had to indicate ages of every character in stories, I would have done so... Anyway, if I were to be asked what the OC's age was, I would say she is within the age range of 26-28yo.

2) It will be clear in the last chapter as I tried to give a short back story (before I even saw those mean tweets) but I will let you all know now - Toji was out of the reader's life from age 9 to 24, reader's dad had her at 21, and Toji is a few years younger than the dad. So the math is that the age gap between Toji and the reader is ~18 years.

3) Reader hardly calls Toji by his name because she feels awkward doing that since she's always known him as Uncle Toji. but if you notice, she has been getting braver through the chapters. And she calls him 'Uncle Toji' during sex most of the time coz they like to roleplay??

Anyway, I am only explaining bc I really do not wish to hurt anyone, and I hope the fanartist know that the hate should be directed at me, not at them.

Next chapter will be the last. thank you all for supporting my Uncle Toji series.

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

I am surprised when Toji’s hand on the small of my back gently guides me to the side, away from guests trying to lure us into their conversations. I look up at him in confusion and worry, only to be met with a concerned look on his face. 

He dips his head so that I can hear him when he murmurs, “You alright, baby? Wanna go home?”

Oh. 

I’d had a fight with my dad before coming to the gala dinner. Toji was caught in the crossfire when he came to pick me up. I was initially supposed to meet him at the dinner with my parents, where I would be handed over to Toji since each guest could only bring a Plus One. However, once my dad and I started raising our voices at each other, my mother called Toji right away and got him to come over to take me.

I was glad for it, and I’m sure my parents were, too. I haven’t been in the best of moods since then and Toji knows me way too well to have me engage in any conversation. I am still a good guest in the way I politely respond to questions asked, yet at the same time cutting the conversation short. But Toji understands that I am being civil only for the sake of it. 

I give Toji a small smile and shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He observes me for a few seconds. Finally, he rubs his thumb on my back and nods. “Okay. But I’ll bring you home early. Let me just talk to Dr. Hung.”

I have no objection to that, so Toji slides his engulfing hand down to take hold of mine and starts walking towards Dr. Hung. I try to listen politely and take mental notes of their conversation, since I am also here to make connections that might benefit my father’s company when I eventually take over. Toji, being my father’s best friend and longest business partner, knows of this and even tries to bring up our company’s name. 

By the time they were done talking business, I had Dr. Hung’s name card and a promise to have a business lunch, all thanks to Toji. And finally, when it is just us again, Toji rests a comforting hand on my back and leans down so that his lips are by my ear. 

“Let’s bring you home now, shall we?”

I look up and nod my head, to which he returns a nod at. Before we leave, however, Toji looks around to locate my parents, who are engaged in a conversation with a few other notable people in the industry. Not wanting to interrupt them, Toji guides me straight out of the ballroom and walks me to his car where his driver is already waiting. 

“Careful,” he murmurs with his big palm resting on top of my head as I get into the car. 

He gets his driver to bring me back and only when he has walked me back to my room, I face him and hold onto his calloused hand with both of mine. 

“Stay for a bit, Toji?” 

He stares at me for a long moment, not saying anything. I know that he is debating whether he should, since my parents might come home and see him here. But I give him a small pout that I know he can never resist, and he eventually squeezes my fingers — his non-verbal way of saying yes. 

When I let go of his hand, Toji undoes the knot on his tie, ready to get comfortable. By the time I am out of the shower, I find Toji already laying on my bed, tie off and blazer-less. He has the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm resting behind his head widening the plackets of his top and allowing me to see more skin. He is on his phone, probably going through some soccer news. 

Cuddling up to him seems so inviting that I rush through my nightly routine just to jump into bed with him. Toji fully expects it, having experienced this too many times for him not to be ready for it. He spreads his arm out just in time for me to burrow into his side. 

“Ugh, what a terrible day,” I groan into his armpit. 

Toji pats my crown and rests his palm on the swell of my hips. “Your dad only means well, you know that, baby.”

I lift myself up on my elbow, my hand on his chest to keep me steady, as I glare at him. Toji returns a levelled gaze. “He thinks that I’m not focused and that I am not trying hard enough to learn about taking over the company!”

Toji locks his phone and puts it aside just so he can give me more attention. But when I hear his response, I suddenly wish he didn’t give me any at all, or that I even asked him to stay. 

“Well, do you think you really have been giving your all in the handover?” I simply gape at him, in disbelief that he would say something like that. Toji taps my hip. “Look at it this way, Princess, from your father’s point of view. You complain when you have business meetings, when they are actually good for your business. You hate the small talk and show an attitude, which I can’t say gives off a good impression. You hang back and passively stand there and look pretty at the networking events your father brings you to, that are really for you to broaden your connections.” 

Toji could probably see the look of incredulity and betrayal on my face, because he sighs and strokes my chin with his free hand. Being the petty me that I am, I turn my head away with a pout. 

“You know that I am always fair and logical, Princess. I’m not just taking your dad’s side because he is my best friend,” Toji murmurs.

I stay quiet, trying to rationalise his explanation. But the longer I do, the more heated I get. So, instead of answering him, I get up, tear the sheets off my bed to get under it, and reach out to turn the lights off, plunging us into darkness. I lie on my side, facing away from Toji even though he can’t see me in the darkness anyway. He doesn’t move or say anything for a while but a few seconds later, I hear movement and in the next few seconds, the nightlight next to my bed turns on. I feel Toji getting under the blanket behind me where he rests his heavy hand on my hip. He comes closer until his lips are hovering over my ear. 

“Although…” he murmurs huskily, quietly. “Of course I will be there to help you. How can Uncle Toji leave his baby girl to be eaten by the wolves?” While my heart flutters at his words, I make sure not to react. Toji rubs his rough palm up and down the side of thigh now. “Together, we’ll dominate the playing field. I’ll guide and bring success to you.”

I know that he always keeps his promises and he never promises anything he can’t do. But I still won’t respond, so Toji nudges my earlobe with his lips. I can feel the scruff on his chin that is already growing. 

“It’s all for your own good, Princess. Your dad just doesn’t want you to fail. Neither do I.”

I turn my head slightly and grumble, “I thought you said you’d help me succeed.”

The tip of Toji’s nose now brushes my cheek. He rubs my side gently, at the same time causing my night dress to ride up. “Oh, that’s not negotiable, baby. Of course I will. But you’ve got to try and make it out on your own too.” 

“But I am trying,” I whine, now twisting my body a little more so that I am facing him. 

He is staring down at me with the softest gaze — one that he only reserves for me. “Of course you are,” Toji almost coos. This only makes me pout instinctively. He leans down to press his scarred lips to mine. “But try harder.”

Immediately, I pull away with a loud whine and slap his broad shoulder. Toji’s chuckle is low and husky, so warm and familiar that I am already melting before he kisses me again. This time, he nips on my bottom lip, his palm on my hip now moving in sensual strokes. Little moans and mewls escape me as some sort of resistance, not wanting to be played into his hands like that. But we both know that I am enjoying this, especially when I clench my fist on the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. Toji hooks his fingers under the hem of my night dress and drags them up along my thigh, pulling my dress up. 

He is toying with the band of my panties when he breaks the kiss and murmurs against my lips, “Still mad at Uncle Toji?” My teeth pull on my bottom lip as I nod my head. The corners of Toji’s lips turn down. “Can’t have that now, can we?” he hums before burying his face into my nape. He trails the faintest of kisses along my neck, his fingers now tugging and flicking at the thin elastic of my underwear. “You’re not tired, are you, baby? I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep yet.”

And with that, Toji lifts himself up on his elbow as he pulls my g-string down as far as he can. He kisses me on the shoulder just as he hovers his hand over my crotch, the tip of his finger drawing shapes on my sensitive skin, making my hair stand on ends. I hold my breath as he gets closer to my clit, dipping his finger between my thighs so that the length of his digit rubs on my pussy lips. 

I can feel his erection growing hard against my ass, especially when he starts thrusting his hips slowly in tandem with the rhythm of his finger sliding between my labia. The tip of his finger teases my entrance. Pushing just an inch of his digit into my hole, he slides out and spreads my slick along my lips. I swallow and turn my head so that I could at least see him a little. Almost at once, Toji leans in to kiss the corner of my lips. 

His lips are still on me when he mumbles, “You’re so cute when you act like you’re mad at me.”

I let out a whine and reach out to thump my fist on his shoulder. Toji merely chuckles against my lips. He gives me one last kiss and pulls away, now moving to lay on his back. I turn my head to take a look at what he’s doing and see that he is undoing his pants. Knowing that he is actually going to finish what he started, I return to face the front. 

His strong arm snakes around my waist again and this time, I can feel his member poking my ass, excited and hard. The expensive material of his pants brush against the back of my thigh, adjusting my position so that my legs are scissored. Scooching closer to me, Toji holds his cock in his hand just for him to rub it against my flaps. I bite my bottom lip in an effort to try not to stick my ass out. But it is useless because my hips start to move and grind against his cockhead, allowing him to spread his precum and my wetness along my slit. 

Toji wraps his arm across my chest and brings me inevitably closer so that his lips are pressing against my ear. As he continues to thrust his hips, letting the length of his cock slide along my pussy lips, he lets out the sexiest grunts and the lowest of moans. At this point, I just want him to put it in me already. And he knows, because I arch my back to the point I am pressing my ass against his hips. 

Reaching his hand down, Toji tactically spreads my cheeks apart and positions his cockhead at the entrance of my wet pussy. Thrusting his hips forward, he stretches out my hole, making me whine and moan in pain and pleasure. Once he has his tip in, he returns to hugging me tight against his body. Toji’s nose is at the back of my ear, his lips on my earlobe. I can hear his shaky breathing as he enters me deeper. 

“Fuck…” he groans quietly. “You feel so good, baby.” 

Toji is slow as he sheathes himself inside of me, trying to savour the moment he first slides into me. Only when he is balls deep inside of me, he pauses and groans into my ear while he enjoys the pulsing, warm cocksleeve around his meat. My jaw goes slack when he finally pulls out several seconds later, only to thrust back into me again. His strokes start out slow before building up to a passionate rhythm of fucking. 

Toji growls into my ear and I just know that he isn’t going to last very long tonight. Especially when he brings his hand to wrap around my throat, his thick fingers lightly gripping the sides of my neck. My pussy is getting wetter. The sounds of Toji’s hips slamming against my ass and the squelching of my sopping pussy are almost too loud in my quiet room. It doesn’t help that Toji releases the chokehold around my neck, only to bring his hand down to my clit, his fingers already rubbing the nub in circles. 

“Ah, Daddy…” I mewl breathily, my body already trembling at his ministrations. 

Toji grunts. “God. You’re so tight and warm around me, Princess.” He lets out a long groan. “Daddy’s going to cum.”

By the sound of his irregular breathing, I just know that he is so close. Just a few more thrusts and he is going to explode inside of me. 

Which is why I have to be the one to stop him with my hand against his hips, giving him a squeeze in warning, when I hear the door creaking open. My heart is racing with fear and anxiety. Toji curses under his breath but immediately ceases his movements. He tries very hard to regulate his breathing quietly. He taps my thigh and I just know what he wants me to do. I shut my eyes and pretend to sleep. 

Someone takes a few steps into the room. Toji twists his body so that he appears to be lying on his back. I hear him groan, like how a tired person would. 

“Oh, you’re with her.” 

I really hope the thumping of my heart against my chest is not as loud as it sounds like to me. Because my father is here, speaking quietly to Toji.

“We had a little talk before she fell asleep,” Toji mumbles. I am impressed that he doesn’t sound at all out of breath.

My father lets out a loud sigh. Instinctively, my entire body clenches with anxiety, even down to my pussy walls squeezing Toji’s swollen cock. Toji chokes on a grunt and reactively moves his hand that is under the blanket to squeeze my arm lightly in warning. 

“Yeah, I might have been too harsh on her,” my father reflects. He sounds a little regretful. 

Toji clears his throat. He knows that I am listening and will very well treat him according to his reply. He pauses for a second before saying, “Good you know that. She really is trying, you know. She’s a good girl.”

As a reward for Toji sticking up for me, I pretend to shift in my sleep so that I press my ass against his hips, fully taking in his cock. Toji lets out a short hiss, which he covers up by clearing his throat. 

“She can be a brat,” he comments, making sure that I hear the edge in his tone. The corner of my lip lifts slightly. “But she is a good kid.”

“I know.” My father sighs. “I feel terrible. We never have fights.”

Toji scoffs. “Obviously. You’re a sucker for your daughter.” 

I could almost hear my father rolling his eyes. “You’re not one to talk. I’ve never seen you fuss over anyone like you do with her. She can’t even meet boys with the way you’re always hovering around her.”

Toji shifts his leg, at the same time angling his cock and driving his meat deeper inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. He is almost growling when he answers, “Boys can’t take care of her.”

“You know, I agree with you. But then who will?” 

I wish I had my eyes open to watch the non-verbal interaction between my father and Toji. Because the tension in the air intensifies and my dad almost sounds interrogative now. 

“You? You want to take care of my daughter?” 

“Just ‘cause she’s a brat and a princess, you think I can’t handle her?” Toji may sound like he is joking but I just know that he is being defensive. 

The tension breaks when my father laughs. “Oh, I know for sure you can handle her, Toji. I’m just not confident she can take care of you, ya grumpy old geezer.”

Toji’s body relaxes behind me. He scoffs and says, “Like I need anyone taking care of me.”

“Hmm. True.” A moment of silence passes, putting an end to the short distraction from their original conversation. My father sighs and asks, “Are you staying?” Without waiting for Toji to answer though, he quickly changes his question to an instruction, “Stay the night and talk to her in the morning before breakfast. She listens to you better. Then we’ll go for brunch at Fordeux.”

Toji chuckles under his breath. “Bribing me with a meal at my favourite place, huh?” My father doesn’t answer but I know he must be grinning. Toji flips to the side and pats my hip over the blanket. “Alright. I’ll make sure she’s talking to you again tomorrow.”

“Good ni—”

“But,” Toji stops him in his tracks. My father pauses. “You need to cut her some slack too. Let her do things at her pace.”

It takes a while for my father to respond but when he does, my heart lightens so much that I feel like I might float. “Fine.” I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Can’t say shit about me when you’re as big of a sucker for her.” 

“Shut up, dickhead.”

My father’s laughter is getting further and further until I hear the door open again. The moment it closes behind him and we are back in the silence of my room, I open my eyes. I wait a couple more seconds before turning my head around to face Toji. He turns to look at me. I keep staring at him, not saying anything, probably scaring him because he opens his mouth to say something. Before he could even get a word out though, I reach my arm behind me and grab his neck, pulling him close. Toji’s fingers tighten around my hip when my lips touch his, so possessive and full of yearning that I can only respond in a sensual swirl of my hips. 

Hearing him moan into my mouth, I am motivated to give him more. Arching my back to press my ass against his groin, I rock my hips at a steady pace, sliding his cock in and out of my tight hole. Toji kisses me back sloppily, his jaw slack at the pleasure my wet pussy is giving him. 

I pull away from his lips, which only makes Toji’s eyes flutter open as he stares at me in a lovestruck daze. It makes me grin. I am usually the one with that expression. Circling my fingers around his wrist, I pull his hand away from my hip and move away from him. His brows draw together for a moment before he realises what I am about to do as I push him back and climb on top of him, straddling his hips. 

Toji licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one as he watches me steady myself with a hand on his chest and my hand wrapped around his dick. I lift myself up so that I am hovering over his thick cock. Sliding his cockhead up and down my wet lips, I glance up at him, finding him already in position with his arms behind his head, ready to watch me ride him. 

Lowering myself as I rub his mushroom head along my slit, the wet smacking of my pussy lips becomes louder and almost more elaborate. Toji’s teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and I can just tell that his restraint is almost breaking at my teasing. He is probably just two seconds away from flipping us around and completely obliterating me when I finally sink down on his dick, slowly letting his wide girth stretch me out. 

Toji’s hip spasms at the immense pleasure my sopping cunt is giving him and his face contorts into one of agony and bliss, all at the same time. Placing both hands on his chest now, I hold myself stable as I continue taking in his cock, all the way down until he is balls deep inside of me. I let out the breath I had been holding in and lift my head to find Toji with his eyes barely open. He always enjoys the first time his cock slides into my pussy. 

As I slide my palm up his smooth chest, I tease, “You alright there, Uncle Toji?” 

It takes him a few seconds but Toji finally blinks the haze away. He is already glaring at me. Taking a hand away from the back of his head, his palm meets my ass with a resounding smack. “What’s gotten into you, huh? Thought you were mad at Uncle Toji?”

As I lean forward with a grin, I lift my ass so that his cock slides out of my tight snatch. “How could I stay mad at you?” Toji flickers his eyes down to my lips, looking so mesmerised by the way my bottom lip is caught between my teeth. “You stood up for me.”

Toji’s hand cups my chin and pulls me closer. “If I don’t, who will?” 

My heart flutters at his words, sending a ripple down south that massages his meat. Toji’s warm breath hits my lips in a soft moan before taking my mouth in his. He kisses me deep and slow. Readjusting my hands to hold myself up on the bed beside him, I slowly start to move again, sliding my wet cunt up and down his hard dick. He could still kiss me until I started going faster, slapping my ass down to meet the base of his cock each time. Letting out a low, deep moan, Toji breaks the kiss and tilts his head up slightly, trying to get more air into his lungs. 

I stop for a moment, only to change my position so that I have my palms flat on my headboard, completely hovering above him now. I move my hips again, fast and powerful that I have the bed rocking slightly, my tits swinging in Toji’s face, my perked nipples just grazing his stubble and his sharp nose. The man below me lets rip a growl and grabs a handful of my breast, latching his mouth on my tit. I throw my head back at the sensation of his tongue flicking over my stiff bud. My pussy is only getting wetter, making me glide up and down his thick cock easily. 

Toji’s other hand slides down to my body, finding my ass. I mewl when he slaps my mound before giving it a squeeze, his grunts only letting me know that he enjoys my reaction. I know that Toji is enjoying this, but he always wants to finish with him on top. And I am slowly losing my strength as I start to slow down. He gives me one last slap and squeeze to my ass before unlatching from my breast. With his hands on my hips, he stops me from moving, holding me up with his hands now cupping my ass. 

“Oh, fuck, Daddy…” I whine when he starts rutting his hips, impaling me over and over with his thick meat. 

“Mm…” he groans. “Baby.” He cannot stop himself from giving my flesh another squeeze. “Princess.” At that petname, I fall forward and melt into his chest completely, letting him hold me up with pure brute strength. Toji’s grunt in my ear is low and guttural. “My pretty girl,” he moans. My cunt grips tighter around his cock. He knows what this does to me. 

Sliding a hand up to my head, he pushes my hair away from my face so that I can feel his warm murmur on my cheek when he says, “My darling little kitten.” I shut my eyes and let out a mewl. “Daddy made you so wet, pretty baby.” Toji squeezes a handful of my ass. “Gonna cum for Daddy, sweetheart?” I can only whine and nod my head dumbly. stops with his cock entirely sheathed inside of me and circles his hips, enjoying the sticky sound of our juices mixing together. He groans at my pussy pulsing around him. 

He tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on my temple and murmurs, “Daddy’s going to cum, baby doll. And I’m going to ruin your pretty little body when I do.” I can only mewl in response, my walls fluttering around his sheathed cock. My head is buzzing from my unexpected orgasm, my body already reacting involuntarily at his words. Toji nudges my temple as he moves to whisper in my ear, still gyrating his hips with his cock inside of me, “My cum all over your stomach and your tits, baby. Gonna look so pretty, all covered in Uncle Toji’s love.”

I gasp when he flips us around suddenly, his dick slipping out of me at the movement. I am lying on the bed staring up at him now. He cages me under his big, strong build, his eyes dark and lustful as he watches me. Licking his fingers, he reaches between us and gives my sopping wet  pussy a slap, causing me to jerk in surprise. A corner of his lip pulls up. He does this again, and this time I whine. 

Toji takes hold of his cock now, positioning it at the entrance of my parted pussy. He lets out a deep exhale as he slides into me again. I like being in this position where I am able to watch Toji’s expression as he fucks me. His eyebrows would be furrowed, his dark, green eyes would be piercing mine, the ends of his hair just slightly wet from the physical exertion. I smile and reach up to give him a peck on his lips. 

It is meant to be a sweet gesture, but Toji lets out a low growl. He drops his head to kiss me hard while he speeds up his pace. I move in tandem with his fucking, meeting the base of his cock with every hip thrust. I make a conscious effort to squeeze my walls, my pussy gripping so tightly onto his cock that Toji quickly pulls out like he has been burnt, just to keep stroking his meat furiously. He cums on me like he said he would, the white liquid painting my stomach with some droplets staining my night dress. 

He takes a while to recover from his heaving but when he does, he gets up slowly and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He keeps his eyes entirely on me the whole time he strips from his clothes. The moment he is done, he scoops me up carefully and walks me to the bathroom where he brings me to the shower stall with him once he takes the dress off me. 

“I’m going to do something stupid tomorrow,” Toji suddenly announces in the middle of our clean-up. 

My heart stops for a second. I look up at him shampooing his hair. “What?” When he only stares at me, not saying anything, I laugh and joke, “Gonna have another cheat day and eat all the carbs you want?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Everyday is a cheat day when your girlfriend always leaves you with her unfinished food.”

I click my tongue and reach out to land a wet slap on his bicep. He grins at me and closes his eyes to wash out the shampoo on his hair. Finishing up my rinse, I get out of the shower before him and dry myself. I have to change into a new set of nightwear and when I am dressed, I snuggle back into bed, waiting for Toji. 

He takes a while so I try to stay up. But when I hear the hairdryer going off, I decide that I can always spend time with him in the morning before the brunch, since he is staying over. 

I am already half-asleep when Toji finally crawls into bed and cuddles me, bringing me closer to him. I wonder if I had been dreaming when he murmured in my ear, “I’m going to talk to your dad about us, baby.”

At brunch the next day, I am sat next to Toji, both of us across the table from my parents. He takes care of me the entire time like he always does, even going to the extent of cutting up my waffles for me while he talks to my father. 

“You’re spoiling her, Toji,” my dad finally comments as he watches his best friend cutting up my food for me. “She’s not a baby, you know.”

My father glances at me but I merely shrug at him and grin up at Toji. “I like being spoiled.”

“Of course you do,” my father quips. 

Toji makes one last cut of my waffle and sets the cutlery down. I thank him and start eating. As he reaches out to have a sip of his wine, he leans back in his chair comfortably to address my father. 

“Do you think it’s weird that I spoil her?”

My dad laughs as he reaches for his wine glass too. “Not weird. But definitely bad.”

But Toji is serious as he continues, “Then do you think it’s weird if I say I want to take care of her?” 

My father pauses for a moment. He looks at me looking lost and uncomfortable at where this conversation is headed, then glances at his similarly confused wife, and finally back at Toji. 

“No… You’ve always been taking care of her even when she was younger.”

“I mean as a man.” 

The man across him frowns and leans forward to put his wine down. “You mean… like…” My father is at a loss for words. 

Even I am, too. All of us are just gaping stupidly at Toji now, waiting for some sort of explanation, or even him laughing to tell us he is joking. But he only clears his throat and sits with his elbows on his arm rests, his hands resting on his torso with his fingers interlocked. 

“Like I want to commit my life to her.” 

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

-

© chocochipsushi 2023 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

[click4rainy]

Hello, I hoped you're having a good day! I love your writing, and I got super excited when I saw you write for mk11! If you're not too overwhelmed with requests, could you please do one of those sfw/nsfw dating headcanons sets for Fujin? Either way, thank you for taking time out of your day to write 💗

Breezy Man//Fujin Boyfriend Head Canons

👽: AWW, you’re so sweet, thank you!! I got like 10+ requests I’m cooking up in the kitchen right now HA! But I’m vibing and I love all the different prompts I’m getting!!! So keep em coming!! Hope you enjoy my head canons for Fujin. (He’s so FINEEEE) kisses MUAHHH!!!

✅: Proof Read

🖇️:Fujin x Reader

⚠️:NSFW/AFAB!Reader/Mentions of freaky time with a deity that’s—MMMHHH—tasty lookin. 

SFW 🌫️🤍

★ Fujin is definitely a playful, affectionate soul. He’s loves teasing you, makings light hearted quips just to see you smile.

★ “If the wind could blush, I believe it would at the sight of your smile.” “That face alone could calm even the most chaotic storm. Keep it, and I’ll make sure the winds only sing for you today.”

★ At this point, you just expect the gusts of wind helping him with his antics. He’ll tousle your hair, or twirl a small whirl of leaves around you just because. Making you softly laugh, or shoot him a little warning glare if you lose balance.

★ “Did you just trip? No, no I assure you, it was not me—the wind is mischievous today. But I must admit, it’s rather convenient with the way you fell into my arms, hmm?”

★ He loves giving forehead kisses. They’re considered a silent blessing whenever you receive one from him. “You claim me rascally? Yet here you are, with my heart—stolen. A thief, truly.”

★ Fiercely protective over you, but of course he believes in your strength and doesn’t want to come off as smothering. And if danger does occur, he’ll subtly keep you within his wind currents, ensuring you’re always safe.

★ Fujin is a rather peaceful being. He prefers to avoid unnecessary conflict. But if someone threatens you? He has no issue switching to a cold, powerful force.

★ “Do not mistake my gentleness for inaction, should anyone bring you harm, they will learn why even the faintest of breezes can become a storm.”

★ Fujin comes off as a very emotionally intelligent person. He yearns for deep, meaningful connection with the one he considers his heart. He’s naturally an open person, and wants to understand your thoughts and emotions in any conversation—no matter the topic.

★ Fujin’s perspective on mortality is personal, to say the least. He’s lived countless ages and has seen mortal lives flicker like the flames of a candle.

★ He doesn’t fear your mortality per se, but he mourns the inevitability of losing you. However, this is why he reminds you often that time is precious, and that every moment together matters.

★ There’s for sure some (a lot of) teasing at Raidens expense, especially if Fujin’s brother doesn’t quite know how to react to your relationship.

★ “Brother, do you see how radiant they are? I think I finally understand why you prefer thunderstorms—because you are jealous of my sunshine.”

★ One hundred percent sentimental when it comes to giving and receiving gifts. You could give him a bobby pin and he’d keep it for eternity. (Literally)

★ His gifts usually consist of intricate pieces of jewelry, small crystals for you to carry around for different purposes. Like prosperity, luck, balance etcétera. Or he brews homemade tea/coffee flavors for you to try out.

NSFW ☁️💦

★ Fujin for sure loves taking control in the bedroom, he’s a soft dom and makes you feel good with sensual touches and commanding words.

★ “That’s it, songbird. Just like that,” He croons, guiding your body with strong hands, directing you to arch your back or wrap your legs around him.

★ He’s a god with a penchant for teasing edge play, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy only to pull back—making you pout and beg for more.

★ “Patience, love,” he chastises while tracing your curves with feather light kisses and caresses, smirking up at you while his breath fans against your skin, reveling in your needy little whimpers.

★ Gets pussy drunk. He could have his head between your thighs for hours. But you usually can’t take more than ten maybe fifteen minutes. He’s a damn tease, remember? So even if you’re writhing and squirming, tears stinging your eyes, Fujin simply moans, tightening his hold on you while flicking his tongue at your clit and pushing two fingers inside you.

★ “Just a little longer, love—please~” he softly pleads with flushed cheeks, before diving right back in without warning, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, making your legs shake and toes curl.

★ He’s sentimental, as you may already know, and prefers bare skin. Talking about skin on skin touch. He loves you naked and exposed before him, admiring the sight of your soft, perfect, bare flesh.

★ “Absolutely exquisite.” He hums, taking his sweet time to worship every inch. His calloused hands mapping out your nipples, flanks, hips, ass. Kneading and groping, pressing you impossibly close to him.

★ Has an appreciation for lewd art. More specifically he loves admiring erotic pieces and photography featuring you as the subject. He has many pieces like this for…personal reasons. His glowing eyes hungrily tracing your figure and the sinful poses that make his cock stir and throb with want.

★ Adventurous and open. Loves exploring kinky positions. He’s always seeking new and thrilling ways to join with you. He’ll have you bent over the bathroom sink, gripping your hips. “Look at us.” He grunts, pounding into you from behind, sliding one hand up your back to grip your chin, forcing you to look at your reflection in the mirror. “See how perfectly we fit?”

★ He can get down with a little bit of rough play. Though he doesn’t like to leave welting marks. Even if you beg “harder!” —he’s soft yet firm with his smacks and slaps. But pounding into you with brutality? Yes please!

★ He’ll fuck into you at a punishing pace, grunting with each thrust. “You can take it, lovely.” He huffs out, your tits bouncing, bed creaking and groaning as you hold onto the sheets for dear life. “Take every inch of your lord’s cock.”

★ Feel like he indulges in steamy, sexy bathing rituals with you. Your slick, wet bodies slipping and sliding against each other, affectionately cleaning each other’s backs, exploring and caressing with soapy hands and fingertips.

★ Fujin has a liking for the….finer points of BDSM. Silk ties, blindfolds, light impact play intermingled with your guys’ intimacy. Binding your hands, letting the fabric bite into your skin as he stands to rummage through the collection of ties. “Color?” He checks in, ever the considerate lover.

★ Of course, after fucking your senseless, the god is an incredibly tender lover (more so than before). He’ll clean you up and get you into freshened garments. Gathering you into his strong arms, peppering your face with soft kisses as he strokes your hair (or cheek).

★ “You did so well, songbird.” He praises gently. “Truly, I am blessed to have you as my own.”

[xx-riffraff-xx]

𓇼 ~ The Sea Swallowed Him Whole ~ 𓇼

premise; It's the anniversary of Lemuria's fall. Rafayel isn't handling it well. Companion piece to 'Forsaken Treasures of the Sea.'

warnings; suicidal ideation, kind of suicide attempt, heavy angst, hurt/some comfort, bittersweet ending, VERY sad, potentially OOC, timeline inaccuracies, drowning or hope of drowning, attempt at symbolism. neither you nor rafayel are harmed long-term or die.

a/n; once again, i have no idea where this monster came from. my brain told me "hurt fishboy." and i said "okay guess we're hurting fishboy now." might wanna prepare the tissues. hope you enjoy!

Rafayel is on the beach again. Lukewarm waves curl around his ankles, pulling the sand beneath his feet to drag him back to the depths of the sea. The saltwater soaked through his clothes up to his waist where he sits. The moon is drawing the tide in. His shirt is sticking awkwardly to his waist.

He can’t keep his thoughts away from the day Lemuria fell. How could he pick between you and his home? They were linked, connected, one could not exist without the other. In his hesitation to tear Mo apart, he lost both. The evacuation was swift, but not swift enough. Lives were lost. It is his fault. The waves washed away the blood on his hands, but he feels pieces of their souls stuck in his teeth.

Rafayel is on the beach again. The darkness hadn’t claimed many of his people, the response was quick enough. The people closest to him were able to swim away. Now, it’s his job to aid in protecting everyone on the mainland. He’s never wanted responsibility, always swam in the opposite direction as fast as the current could take him. Maybe he’s grown into it.

He’s so tired. It’s late. The sea has drawn him deeper, she demands justice. Heavy cotton hangs from his shoulders. Sand melts into glass underneath his fingers. Time-softened seashells bear his marks. He skips a smooth seashell sculpture across the water’s surface. The ripples bear the name of each Lemurian he couldn’t save.

The sea swallows him whole. Rip currents are common around this time. His body could be miles from shore before anyone could think to look for him. The sea will punish him as she wills. She is a caring, violent mother. Her children are no stranger to her wrath. She knows what he deserves.

Rafayel feels the current yank at his feet where he floats at the same time he feels warm hands pulling him from the water. The tide had taken many hours to swallow him, marked by the moon’s position above the horizon. The salt dampened the angry flame in his heart. Its absence feels like burning alive.

Gentle hands guide him out of the sea. A trail of pearls leads away from the shoreline. Soft towels dry his vessel. Slowly, he dresses in the dry clothes given to him. He is surrounded by warmth. It is too hot with the fire burning under his skin. Under the covers, his back is pressed to someone’s chest. The hours spent waiting for the sea to claim him feel like a dream.

“Rafayel?” Your shaky voice breaks the silence. He feels your worry like his own. He uses your name when he answers. “Why did I find you catatonic in the tides?”

“It was... a momentary lapse in judgement. Today is an anniversary.” He responds tonelessly. He does not intend to answer any more questions. After all, you don’t remember anything from all those years ago. If you did, the guilt would consume you, your compassion weaponized against you. He fears he’ll reach for your hand to find your skin grey and lifeless, the scavengers brought in by the tides feasting on your long-dead corpse.

You don’t ask any other questions. Unlike you. Instead, you take Rafayel back to the beach. The soft sand slips beneath your feet. Warmth from your hand spreads up his arm. Smells of brine and salt and Mo waft in on the sea breeze. The draw to the sea holds him hostage, trapped like Jonah in the mouth of the whale.

Your warmth fades as you roll up your pants. Without pausing, without hesitation, you wade into the tide. The waves wash up to your shins. The wind tussles your hair, humidity and salt frizzing it into curls. Rafayel’s throat closes, his lungs squeezed of all air. The sea is a caring, violent mother. The sea will take your heart after he could not.

He rushes into the waves after you. “What are you doing!?” He demands, pulling you out of the clawing reach of the currents that threaten to take you from him. You splash out of the ocean’s reach willingly.

Once out of the lapping water, you resist Rafayel. You draw his forehead to your own, holding his face in your hands. “I want to understand you.”

Something dark and ugly rears inside him. His shoulders curl to contain it. “Lemuria fell because I would not sacrifice you. The ocean demands its retribution.”

You fall together to the soft sand, clinging desperately to a fading reality where everything will be okay. “I don’t understand,” you whisper. A deep sigh burdens the space between you. Rafayel does not elaborate further. A soft, alluring hum starts in his chest. You know this melody. You hum along. Your voices mingle against the backdrop of the ocean’s waves.

Rafayel holds your hands in his own. Your bodies drift closer together until neither of you can define where he ends and you begin. Rafayel hums until he cannot anymore. His caring, violent mother will have to accept his voice over his body for retribution this year. The sun rises. The tides retreat in acceptance of Rafayel’s offer.

Rafayel holds you to his chest. You had fallen asleep at some point during his siren song. Your even breaths wear away his jagged edges.

It will be different, but it will be okay.

A little note on Rafayel's references to mo in this fic: I can't remember where I found it in canon, but I believe it means "home" or "motherland" in Lemurian! Hope you enjoyed! (edit: it came from the "Omnipotent Perception" card. thank you to @\irandial for the info!)