#this is actually annoying me like what the fuck

[inkskinned]

lately i've been a feminist killjoy.

2. i pirate all my media, and therefore am not familiar with most tv commercials. i went to a superbowl party. around me were appetizers and bean dip and wine and the rolling movement of people talking - and meanwhile i was sitting there, stonefaced and bonechilled. the extraordinary, willful, in-your-face sexism and racism of advertising. what an odd whiplash: the warm and smiling hosts handing me nachos - in the background, some casual repetition of conservative gender roles. more than once i had to turn to my girlfriend - are you seeing this?

3. often i think of how rainbow capitalism is a canary in a coal mine. i think of what one google employee said when they took down their "don't be evil sign" - he mentioned that while it hadn't really done anything, the removal of it was... eerie. it isn't that i needed pride-themed fast fashion items from target. it's that the pushback to said items has now resulted in the company's looming silence. it's that the pushback worked. target is now among the list of companies aiming to "roll back" DEI initiatives. a false friend, i guess - but a bellwether nonetheless.

4. i remember five, ten years ago rolling my eyes at the faux-feminist faux-activist stuff advertisements would put out. i mean, who can forget that pepsi ad, oh my god. i remember girlboss anthems and lukewarm representation. but it did seem like someone was, you know, trying to be thoughtful. but if we follow the money, i think it's fair to say it used to be a good idea to at least appear "politically correct." now though - who cares? look at the man we chose for politics.

5. i am working my girlfriend through her first watch of FMA: Brotherhood. it should be a sweet deal, and instead, i oscillate from peaceful to pacing. the ads drive me insane. i've been counting - at least three involve a man silencing a woman in some way. two involve a white man silencing a woman of color. in my least favorite, she's sitting at her desk, trying to say the same thing he's saying. but he keeps fucking interrupting her. ha ha. don't even ask me what the ad is even for. i don't understand the plot of the thing. i think the whole idea is just "man talks over a woman. buy our product" but with like, somehow worse pacing.

6. on national tv, in front of millions of viewers, kanye posts an ad for his website that is selling a single white T shirt, a product titled HH. a swastika is emblazoned on it. people can't even talk about how fucking terrible that is - their videos get flagged as soon as they actually say what's happening. i am sitting at home staring at my stupid phone, just quietly stunned. we can make a rapist president, but we cannot say the word rape on most social media platforms. elon can nazi salute on television without consequence, but you can't use the word "female" in your research grant request without being flagged. the enormity of it all is impossible to grasp.

7. there's a company called "his", which sells things for erectile dysfunction. the ads are trucks and masculinity and very gender affirming. the same company has a "hers" line, which is a barely-tested weight-loss injection developed and sold by recently-rebranded absolutely evil company Eli Lilly. in the ad, women who are "overweight" grapple with their barely-visible stomach and smile, beautifully at peace while delivering their own "treatment."

8. i read a lot, though. i spend a lot of time online. someone recently said i write almost exclusively from a place of panic, which they didn't like. it made me laugh though - can any artist say differently right now? still. still! i sat on that couch and watched how casually bigotry is repeated, with no real audience reaction. am i just radicalized and unfortunately very easily annoyed? am i the problem here? can't i just like, relax and let it happen?

9. we stand in line at the movie theatre. i make some snide remark about how the poster we're looking at is basically "sexy trophy smiles knowingly at our hero, nerdy boy". from behind me, some guy snorts down his nose. feminist killjoy.

10. the thing is. i don't want to be like this. it's just like. in my fucking home.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

People in general are for some reason widely encouraged to reduce other people to monoliths that they then need to have some strong feeling about, and subsequently surprised when this leads to interpersonal conflict with people who feel aggrieved. Long post, sorry, here's a cut.

There are hyperobjects in existence which are composed of the actions and views of millions of people individually but fuck us all in concert, like capitalism or the construction of race. And then there are the people grouped in them, and like, are you seriously imagining you're doing something about any ism at large by harassing any individual?

I'm a Ukrainian Jew of an obscure little mix of particular ethnicities considered indigenous to Ukraine by the UN, all of which have seen some horrors in living memory that were only sort of related to also being Jewish.

When I came to America everyone except for white people decided I was white. This has materially impacted my wellbeing from a "the establishment cares about me any amount and my daily life is faintly normal" perspective in oh, just about no way at all. A really weird amount of people here have really weird feelings about The Polack, The Russian Spy, The Ukrainian Whore and all the rest (the average American racist who does not live online is still unable to distinguish them and disdains them all equally). But it's isolating, because there's no one other than people in the former USSR diaspora to relate to about it. I survived some fuck shit just to experience this, let me tell you. I wouldn't rather go do all that again, but seriously, all that for this?

I have zero experiences in common with Anglo-Saxons or any of the people they've let into the club — in fact the club has done things like detain and interrogate me at borders on the assumption I was traveling to prostitute myself (emphasis on why that's bad for me to do and also a crime, not on how it's human trafficking, also YES in case you are not aware it has dominated my life since I was a young teen and need it confirmed, the war, though not the part the west decided to care about, was on at the time).

The club and people in club proximity abuse me in the workplace because Slavs are to them intrinsically abuseable and I have no community to protect me (leaving aside my personal thoughts about my identity, this is how I am perceived here).

People here just generally treat me in a manner that enables me to relate to the experience of WOC and alienates me from white women. The really fun kicker is that neither group as I encounter it in meatspace wants me because I'm an exotic Eastern menace to all of them, but whatever, I'm straight, I can make American friends online. I'm sure it's different in other states and I was just unlucky.

I can't imagine what people get out of directing ethnic-beef catharsis at me, but I hope it helps, because it's kind of fucking shitty to do, you know? So coming from here I can sympathise with guys and also with real white people, who actually do belong to some category comprising a hyperobject whose particular systemic manifestation violates people's human rights, but have never or think they've never personally done anything. I actually have never personally done anything and neither have any of my ancestors, and people feel oppressed by me for no reason to do with me personally too. It probably feels kind of weird knowing that your great grandpappy actually was a segregationist and no one will ever give you any benefit of any doubt about it. Something about Puritan guilt culture?

Tbf though, me, I'm constantly annoyed by receiving only one of the benefits (white police ignore me if there's other people to harass, and I'm not la migra's first priority, which is also true of for example many Arabs and at least used to be true of Chinese people, in case you need a familiar benchmark for where I'm at) and all of the flak from everyone else about everything.

Material realities aside, it takes a lot to be normal about this for me, so like yeah ok I'm willing to accept that men or white people or whoever find it confronting that some people might exist who they think go around thinking accusatory thoughts about them. I don't fault them for their guilt complex. I have an irrational, probably indelible "holy shit fuck all of you and your dumbfuck invasive imperialist caste system, project it on my ancient and anciently diverse specific regional culture which is in your framework actively being colonised right now one more time I fucking dare you" complex about literally everyone in the Anglospheric race meta, which I have to actively restrain to have a public life and be able to make friends; everybody's got their brain roaches. Mine is that nowhere near everyone is ever actually doing that, but I've Pavloved myself, and this is my bitter melon.

And does it kind of blow to be put in a position where /I/ have to check my anger at being abused and therapise the objectively more powerful person trying to hurt me, yeah, no shit. I'm going to have to commend the last person's mom because if anyone in any setting where I have any rights at all (not a citizen, very few of them) yells at me, it's over for them and I'm not negotiating that, someone else can educate that person. I'm defending myself thanks. I was born desperate and value nothing, try me.

But not everyone who's in some American way privileged over me and has some dumb ideas about me is constantly trying to hurt me — sometimes people are just angry and tired and ignorant, and bell hooks is right.

Sometimes, if you're not in danger in a situation (you make that call, idk anything about you), it's worth remembering that the systems that create abusers also abuse the entire demographic the abusers come from. And you can't dismantle the master's house with the master's tools. If you could, braver and smarter people than us would have succeeded already, and we wouldn't have to have, like, revolutions about it, like the October Revolution, or the Haitian, or the Cuban.

Racism and patriarchy both make the people they ostensibly uplift emotionally kind of stunted in relation to the people they enable them to hold power over, and incline them to scream and wave that power at the nearest convenient target when remotely threatened by anything. All my homies who've ever tried to assist a bewildered but entitled Russian or American tourist, for example, understand this intimately. We've all served a Karen.

It's a cage-fighting-dog-eat-learned-helplessness-experiment-dog world out there. You kind of learn to treat the ones you can tolerate like children, by which I don't mean dehumanise them, I mean just ... be gentle when you can, assume that you're the one with emotional maturity and experience of the world here (you are, the system requires that you be the only one in this dialectic to develop either). 90% of the time they're lashing out because they feel small and tortured, and with men in many places in general they've been taught to replace most emotions with anger. Do what you want with that information, but it helps just to know it.

Because who do your sons learn about men's world from? Grown men, regardless of what you want, that's just how it works. If there are no men that do not merely believe but actively know that compassion is something everyone deserves, the boys will grow up to reject it as girl shit or female manipulation or whatever it is now, and that's how we got where we are with the American men situation, where I saw meat chocolates being sold for Valentine's day the other day that were like, military sasquatch-themed. (The fever dream nature of American children's everything is a topic for another post.)

No one I saw bought them because they're dumb, but think about what this means: men here both reject love as false when it appears and hypothetically expect sincere love to be provided, and that in a way that isn't emasculating according to farcical rules their women don't even think to keep up with, dictated to them by the online manosphere, in the logic of an abuser. That logic is reproduced and shown to children and teenagers on the scale of however many people shop at that Walmart.

What dude blew up at his girl for getting him heart chocolates and who thought the solution was not divorce immediately but heart-shaped sasquatch jerky? When the next guy beats someone up over that, are they going to replace the hearts with little tanks? Where are any cultural representations of healthy, humanising, respectful love between men and women?

There's no help for those chuds, I don't think, they're already gone. And I would never date one, but even just to prevent someone you know from metastasizing into that, I think it's worth it to put in the emotional labour of checking in on guys in your life, if you have any. Keep it to the ones you like or can't avoid, don't worry about random dicks unless you have bandwidth that day and want to. You're one person, random dicks are their mums' responsibility in the end, it's hard out here for a bitch and that's already an impact on life for future generations of children.

When I say this I'm really mostly saying it, for your safety, about little and teenage boys, who are still malleable and less likely to be able to hurt you. Kudos if you can do this for shitty adult male strangers, but realistically I reject the focus on what we can do for them over any attempt to get them to think about what they should quit doing to us, I'm sorry if that's bad intersectional feminism, I'm human though. I have this same take regarding race relations if you needed to know I'm consistent: be constructive if you can, disengage if you can't, it's not your job to educate anyone in the sense that you have the right to leave any situation arbitrarily whenever, but at the same time it is somebody's sometime, because the government literally deliberately hoards and obscures knowledge of reality from these overclasses.

Kids, however, the future of any society? Them punks can't read, it's like, a whole national literacy crisis. Where are they going to even learn about what to read, let alone find it, if there are all these men shooting up schools and politicians screwing with the curriculum? As a general rule I go out of my way for all children and I think so should you. They're not going to learn to be responsible when they're bigger and stronger than other people unless when they're little and weak, adults are unconditionally responsible with them.

Cultural change starts with the children and their caregivers and relies on public opinion, so in whatever small ways are possible I think we should try to be good influences on the next generation.

If you can't be fucked to engage with strange men, which is honestly completely understandable, I don't cultivate them either, then model kindness to children and the old people raising them. That will help more than playing therapist to people who don't think you're people, anyway, though you'll know which men you can help because they know you also have a soul when you see them, and I think it can't hurt to be kind.

part of the reason i love how bell hooks talks about masculinity is that she shows real compassion towards men suffering from the effects of toxic masculinity. she was conscious of how we need to unlearn the ways we talk about men + masculinity just as much as we need to unlearn the same for women + femininity. so many times ill see someone talking about toxic masculinity like (hyperbolizing here but only slightly) "these FUCKING STUPID BABY BITCHES won't MAN UP and go to a therapist!!!" and like. i get the anger. but you see feminists recreating patriarchal manhood by only promoting good behaviors through patriarchal frameworks. any use of the term "real men" is bad because it reifies the idea that manhood is a special title you must earn, and it is something possible to fail and fake. & as important as it is to promote sexual equality + the pleasure of non-cis-men, lots of people are essentially still working with the idea that men need sexual prowess to have worth but just shifting it slightly so there is more emphasis on women's pleasure. but I want cis men to think about their partners' pleasure because they care about their partners, not because they need to check a box in order to keep their man card. and don't get me started on small dick jokes– and the absolutely pitiful excuse people will use that "well, I don't believe it, but misogynistic men get upset when I say it, so it's okay!"

basically bell hooks is so fucking right. in order to create loving men we need to love men, simply for being alive, whether or not they are performing. as much as we need to actively unlearn misogyny (and we do), it's equally vital we unlearn patriarchal ways of seeing manhood. we can't just assume that taking a feminist perspective automatically means there is no work to be done there.

[ineedpaigebuckets]

ONE SHOT AZZI TOP I BEG

PTPOM 2.0

an: i don't know who the fuck allowed me to write this

disregard this thanks

warnings: filth 🥲🤞

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

azzi pov

the sound of sza seeping in through my ears, my headphones blocking out the sound of the music blasting through the bus. i can hear a little bit not enough to disturb my peace of just looking out the window. the light fall of the snow and the silence of the trees outside.

my peace is very quickly disturbed when i hear PTPOM 2.0 being blasted through the speaker and big fucking surprise my girlfriends screaming at the top of her lungs. she's one seat diagonal of me since i insisted on having my own seat, she can be a bit much at night.

"put that pussy on me." i hear her scream and my eyes whip to her before they're caught on amaris live, she tilted the camera towards me and i give her a guilty expression. paige sings a few more lyrics before she gives me a wicked smile and i groan looking back out the window.

i hear amari mumble something along the lines of "you're so gay." and that must have motivated paige to come annoy me.

i feel someone plop down in my seat next to me but i don't even bother, knowing it's paige.

"hi." she grins pulling the headphone off my ear to get my full attention. i slip them off and hang them around my neck leaning against the back of the seat.

"hi baby." i whispered brushing back her flyaways and holding my hands on her cheeks for a few seconds, silently asking her to please calm down. she still gives me her little giddy grin, and i can't help but smile back.

"you played good tonight." i soften my voice letting hands drop down to her lap holding onto her hands. my thumbs running over her skin.

"so, you gonna put that pussy on me or what?" i can see the look in her eyes, she's not kidding. i mean if i had a game like the one she just had i'd understand.

"i'm not the one who dropped 30 today, imma show you how proud i am." the amount of joy that goes through her face at my words is actually insane.

the second paige and i make our way into our hotel room, hand in hand giggling, we cuddle up in bed and turn on the tv. about 30 minutes later i look down to see paige spread across my chest just relaxing in the feeling of me. "thought you were gonna put that pussy on me." i whisper my lips tracing the outline of her ear. as much as paige liked having dominance over the situation, she fucking loved it when i got her right. i see paige pick her head up slowly as her tired hooded eyes meet my own, but there's a glint of something else in them.

"imma do whatever the fuck you want me to." her voice deep and raspy, i'd give anything to hear her voice all day everyday.

"good girl." i whisper my one hand tugging her chin up to me, causing our lips to meet. the first touch was soft, but it didn't take long for paige's mouth to slot open letting my tongue slide around, exploring every inch of her mouth i knew all to well. my other hand sliding up the back of her shirt leaving a tingling sensation wherever i touch. before i could move again paige had propped herself up practically pushing me down into the pillows as she pushed her mouth against mine in a kind of urgency neither of us had been prepared for.

everything else in the room quickly forgotten, all 5 of my senses quickly attuned towards paige.

"imma make it quick so we can get you to sleep okay superstar?" i mumble against her tired lips. her motions had gotten sloppy but not at all less motivated. my girl was grumpy when she didn't sleep. and we were not about to have a grumpy paige.

"how tired you feeling, you wanna lay back for me or you wanna sit up?" i whisper, a string of spit connecting our lips as we pull away, her breathing heavy.

"lay down." she whispers rolling off of me and laying flat on her back her chest rising and falling. i let a small smile cross my face as i push her shirt up and let it sit above her sports bra.

"you wanna take these off?" i whisper my lips ghosting her stomach, pressing soft kisses and licks across her toned abdomen as i position myself between her legs. she props herself up and i help her slip both items of clothing off, drawing my mouth back to her small perky breasts. my thumb runs gently across her neck in a soothing manner. she lets out soft sighs and i completely relax into the feeling of her.

"az." i hear her mumble and i move my mouth from her chest onto that spot behind her ear i know all too well.

"i gotchu baby, i gotchu." i knew i wasn't gonna tease her, or be a bitch tonight, tonight was about showing her just how proud of her i was. and she deserved just that. i slide my hands to her waistband and sit up as i slide both her pants and boxers off at the same time.

"you're so beautiful my love." i whisper pressing a soft kiss on her lower stomach. she shifted on the bed uncomfortably as i pushed her legs apart and settled in between them again. before she can even think i hook her feet above my shoulders and lick a long stripe up her heat. i feel her back arch off the bed as she sucks in a breath. her face contorting in pleasure. i could get off to just watching her. i feel her hands grip onto my hair pulling me into her before i can even get a breath out. i run my tongue gently across her clit, my movements soft but just the right amount for her, sucking gently at her skin.

"fuck, fuck baby, so good." paige starts to ramble off incoherent words and i continue my work, letting my tongue slip down into her entrance and brushing my nose to where my lips previously were. expertly knowing just what she needs. i feel her legs trembling over my shoulders and it gives me confidence. my hands pull her thighs impossibly closer, trying to get as far into her as i physically could.

the whole world is gone, the only thing going through my mind is the taste of the girl i love, the smell of her sweat, arousal, and cologne all mushed together, she feel of her legs around my head, the sight of her sweaty abs glistening in the light right in front of me, and the small sounds she was letting out at my movements. everything perfectly at ease. i feel her buck her hips against my tongue and i know it before she even says anything.

"az-" she tries to speak but is cut off by an even more beautiful moan slipping from her mouth as she pushes the back of her head into the pillow.

"look at me paige, look at me and let go." my voice deep and husky as i keep my mouth on her not letting up one bit. she's propped up on her elbows, my eyes soft as i watch her come undone. her hands tighten further in my hair as i feel her pool into my mouth, and i have no problem licking her clean. but when im done licking it up, i don't stop, keep going as i feel her clench around my tongue for the second time tonight. but then i feel her hands desperately pushing at my forehead.

"off, too much- can't." she breaths out and i do as she says moving only a centimeter away from her heat as i breathe into her.

"one more baby, i know you can." when i went down on her there was absolutely no stopping me and she knew it. she nodded her head with big eyes and threw her arm over her eyes as i got back to work. my tounge flicks a little rougher than last time as i realize just how close she is already. her legs tremble over my shoulders and all i can do is grab onto her thighs, my hands digging into her skin. i look up at her, eyes closed just taking in the moment and i slow my movements just a little, trying to remember exactly this moment, wanting to hold it with me forever. i see her back arch higher and i know she doesn't have much longer so i slip away from her and trail my hand up her chest and hold two fingers in front of her lips.

"open." i hum as she takes my fingers in her mouth swirling her tongue around and between them getting them all ready for her.

"good girl." i murmur as i slide my hand back down and circle my now wettened fingers over her clit. but i feel her twitch under me and replace my fingers with my lips, sucking hard. my fingers easily dip into her wetness and fall into a steady rhythm for only a few seconds before without a warning she's gushing all over my hand and my chin. i look up at her, she looks like she's screaming but there's no sound coming out. the hottest fucking scene i've ever looked at. she lets out a strangled moan as her body falls limp against the bed. i slip out of her and pull my lips away from her throbbing center.

"so good for me, you did so good baby. so proud." i smile coming up to flop down on the bed right beside her. she gives me a lazy smile before her eyes fall closed. after a few minutes when i know she's at least calmed down a little i turn to her my own breath finally evened out.

"you know, you still never put that pussy on me." i grin a wicked smile as my hand traced across her bare stomach and my eyes meet hers just as she opens them. she gives me a look almost pleading me to not continue. but knowing she has one more in her i give her my own look. a look of desperation.

"sit on my face p come on." hoping the dirtiness of the words would finally bring out the last bit of desire she had in her. and boy was i right because she sat up in no time. her eyes wide almost asking me if i was sure. it wasn't something we'd done before, i'd done it to her but not this way. and it was exactly what i wanted. i swing her leg over my head so she was hovering over me. i lick a stripe up her wetness gathering what i could on my tongue as i desperately try to pull her down onto me.

"az, careful baby, i don't wanna hurt you." her voice was raw and worn out, yes so sweet and gentile. everything about her made me smile.

"don't worry, i got you, just relax, sit down." i feel her slowly let all her weight fall onto me and i wasted absolutely no time, able to hit new spots with my tongue at this new angle.

"taste so fucking good." the vibrations of my voice caused her to tense up around my tongue and i felt her legs tremble already, only seconds in and she was overwhelmed.

"gonna- can't- azzi." she murmurs holding on to the headboard for the most part and i pull her hips to rock against me as she works herself through the third orgasm of the night. she turns around and flops back her cheeks flushed and her lips bright pink as i kiss them gently.

"no more, all done, sleep." she mumbles her eyes falling down already.

"did so good mama, all done, time for bed." i sit up and strip off every item of clothing i was wearing and wrap myself in her side, the skin to skin contact perfect.

"goodnight paige." i whisper against her neck, hearing the soft snores coming from her body.

[aashiqeddiediaz]

call this little ficlet thursday, this is @deareddie's fault and is inspired by the h50 episode where danny asks steve what he's wearing and guesses, "cargo pants."

“What are you wearing?”

A laugh startles its way out of Eddie. He abandons the box he was just opening to pick his phone up, turning the speaker off. “What?”

“Well, you won't tell me anything else.” Buck’s laughter filters across the line, teasing and warm and everything that makes Eddie’s heart hurt now that he’s 800 miles away from him. “So, what are you wearing, Eddie?”

It’s that tone that Eddie gets stuck on, all low and flirty the way Buck gets sometimes. Harmless to everything except Eddie’s heart, which kicks in gear every time he hears it. 

Like the day he'd found Eddie's iPad flipped over, an innuendo pressed into the curve of his smirking mouth, evidently unaware of what was to come.

Sometimes, he wonders if Buck ever means the things he says to Eddie — if he ever imagines things being a little different, of meeting Eddie at a bar and putting the moves on him. The same moves Eddie’s made fun of him for countless times, good-natured and teasing the way they are with each other.

But then he thinks about his Buck, sweet in his awkwardness, and heart worn on his sleeve, and wonders if he even wants that cocky front. He has no doubt Buck could back it up, knows that there’s a world of truth and skill behind that cockiness, but the man he wants is the one with mismatched socks who slips and slides in Eddie’s kitchen, accidentally knocking over flour bags and leaving trails of cinnamon sugar in the tile grout.

He thinks about the Buck who'd walked into the realization that Eddie was going to leave, and despite his clear sadness, had stuck by Eddie' side, sharing the misery with him.

He thinks about the Buck who challenges him, shoves at him, bullies his way into Eddie's life, the one who drives him up the fucking wall — and the same one he wouldn't have any other way.

He'd fallen in love with his version of Buck, pushy and annoying and endearing and his whole goddamned family.

Hell of a time to have that realization — looking at Buck standing in the rain in his side mirror, his expression devastated and crumpled. The knot of too late, too late, too late had formed in Eddie's gut at the sight, and has only gotten bigger in the 26 hours since.

26 hours since he left LA, left Buck standing alone in front of the only house that's felt like home outside of his Abuela's home, and they've already talked on the phone for a good 7 of those hours.

“Why do you want to know?” Eddie returns, lowering his voice in turn. He knows this game, knows how he can modulate his own voice, make it a little rougher, add an edge to it. He knows how to add the suggestive tone to his own voice, too.

Even with as clumsy as it sounds to his own ears, Buck’s breath hitches over the line.

Eddie smiles, looking down at himself. The Texas humidity had started sticking to him by the time he unpacked the third box from the back of the U-haul, so in actuality, he’s just in a pair of shorts, his shirt thrown off somewhere among the piles of stuff in the rental. He's sweaty and gross, covered in dust and grime, and even a little grease because his truck had started making a foreboding sound and Eddie was not about to have it crap out on him after 12 hours on the road.

So all in all, he looks gross, but he'll play into this fantasy anywhere.

“Eddie.”

Eddie knows what hope sounds like on Buck. Knows what Buck sounds like when he wants answers, can picture him clearly in his mind. Bright blue eyes, head ducked down and cocked slightly to the side.

“Buck,” Eddie says, letting his voice warm with amusement. “Ask me again.”

There's a line in the sand here, one that Eddie brushes away with a swipe of three words. Tomorrow, he'll focus on Chris and his parents and everything else he needs to do, but today, this is for him and Buck.

A beat of silence. Then, lower and rougher and flirtier than before — “What are you wearing?”

Eddie grins.

[hiiikiko]

𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖆𝖘 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖇𝖊

porn with plot??, bully!ellie x reader (kinda rushed lmao my bad y’all)

tw: bully x victim dynamic, sadistic and masochistic notes, cnc (?), exhibitionism, heavy degradation, slight praise and probably a few more lmao idk im not woke enough for this/j

pt. 1 of sweet as can be | tlou m.list

The events that transpired yesterday felt like a hazy dream.. especially now as Ellie slams you into a locker, her eyes fully of anger and disgust with a wolffish grin spreading across her face.

Maybe you were stupid to expect that after what happened yesterday, she’d treat you better… maybe even start dating you.. but those daydreams are quickly wiped from your mind as she picks you up by the collar of your shirt and slams again, the locker letting out a rattle into the now empty hallway.

“God, you’re pathetic,” she rasps out, “You think just because we fucked that I give a shit about you?” her lips brush against a mark she left on your neck, “You that desperate for human connection?”

You hang your head in shame and shake your head, words of protest not being able to leave your glossed lips. You feel so dumb, you actually dressed up more than usual today, wearing a shorter skirt, a cute sweater, hair curled to perfection and swiping a pretty sparkly pink gloss along your lips.

Ellie laughs cruelly, “Aw, you gonna cry?” She lowers her head so that she can look up into your teary eyes, her scarred hand reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, “Come on then, cry for me.”

You sniffle and weakly try to push her away.

Ellie begins to say something again but is interrupted by the sound of heels coming down the hall, she groans and rolls her eyes, pulling you along by your shirt collar and into the girls locker room.

“What are you doin—?”

Ellie clasps a hand over your mouth, “God, do you ever shut the fuck up? I’m not done with you yet,” she scoffs and looks towards the door for any sign that a teacher might enter.

‘Not done with me yet? The heck does that mean..’ you think to yourself.. millions of possibilities come to mind, maybe she’ll fuck you like last time or maybe she’ll push you into the showers again… you’re not exactly sure which you would prefer at this point.

Ellie furrows her brows as she lowers her gaze to you, you’re obviously lost in thought, she can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at the way you unknowingly bite your lip, a habit of yours that she’s noticed. Before Ellie can stop herself, she brings her hand to your lip and grazes her thumb over it, causing you to snap out of your thoughts.

Your eyes widen at the weirdly gentle caress and your brows furrow in confusion.

“You were doing that annoying thing with your lips,” Ellie manages to scoff out, pushing your head away from her hand.

You let out a whine as she pushes you again.

She laughs hoarsely at your whine, “What did you like the way I touched you?”

“W-What?! O-Of course not!” you stutter out and back up against a bathroom stall.

“You’re a pretty shitty liar,” she takes a step closer and grabs your chin, “That whine you let out sounded pretty disappointed, huh?”

Her grip on your chin is sure to leave bruises, “I-I’m not disappointed!”

She rolls her eyes and before you could snap back at her, she sticks her fingers into your mouth, “Finally found a good use for your mouth,” she laughs.

Your eyes narrow with anger but as much as you’d like to bite her hand, you know better, Ellie is way stronger than you.

“You’re not even fighting back,” she grins and shoves her fingers deeper into your mouth, causing you to gag a bit, tears once again pricking your eyes and causing your mascara to run, “Ha, I bet you like this.”

You cry and do your best to shake your head without her fingers leaving your lips.

“Aw, crying again? I’ve barely even started,” she laughs and pulls her fingers out of your mouth, she grabs your chin and forces you to look up into her pretty emerald eyes, “God, you’re such a mess,” her lips curl into a smirk.

You can’t find it within you to say anything back.

“Come on, that’s all you got? You’re even weaker than I thought,” she giggles cruelly.

“Just leave me alone,” you whimper pathetically.

Ellie rolls her eyes again, “Come on, you know I can’t do that, you’re too much fun.”

“Why not!” you practically yell.

Her eyes dart to the door and she slaps a hand over your mouth again, “Hey, hey, be quiet.”

The two of you go white with fear as you hear the clacking of hills get closer.

Ellie groans quietly and pulls you into the bathroom stall, lowering her voice to a whisper she says, “Now look what you did,” she shoots you a mean glare, one that almost makes your knees buckle.

“I-I’m sorry!” you whisper yell.

“Yeah? I’ll show you how sorry you’ll be,” she pushes you up against the stall door and flips your skirt up, revealing your embarrassingly cute panties. pink panties with little strawberries on them and a bow in the front, “These are cute,” she mutters softly and parts your legs with her foot.

Your face flushes a deep red, “H-Hey, knock it off, what if someone hears!” you whine quietly.

“Just be quiet and nobody’ll find us,” she says in an annoyed manner, though you can’t see it, a small smile dances on her pretty lips, part of her secretly happy that you didn’t tell her to stop or to get off you.

You open your mouth to say something but you’re interrupted by the feeling of her calloused fingers plunging into your sopping wet cunt, “I knew you liked this,” she whispers into your ear, her chest pressed firmly against your back as she moves her fingers in and out.

“I-I don’t,” you whimper a little too loudly, “You—.”

“Shut up,” she growls into your ear quietly and shoves two fingers back into your mouth, the sound of the locker room door opening and the sound of heels clacking through the dimly lit room.

“Hello, anyone in here?”

Ellie’s wolffish grin spreads over her face again as she speeds her fingers up, curling them to brush against that sweet sensitive spot within you. Your whines are choked against her fingers, tears streaming down your face from the utter humiliation at the thought of being caught. You couldn’t risk it, you were a model student, a ‘nerd’ as Ellie liked to call you.. you had straight A’s, a clean record, and all the teacher’s looked at you with adoration… the thought of being caught in this type of position with your bully’s fingers plunged deep inside your embarrassingly wet cunt.. it honestly made you a little bit more horny.

Ellie lets out a deep chuckle, “Fuck, you’re clenching around me. You like the idea of being caught, hm? The teacher’s pet likes the idea of being caught taken advantage of by her big, scary bully? Fucking perv.”

Another muffled whine escapes your lips and tears stream down your cheeks.

“I always knew you were too fucking perfect, too sweet.. guess you are a perv, huh?” she moves her lips along your neck, “first you let me fuck you, pin you down on my bed and ram my strap into that pretty hole and now you’re letting me finger you at school? Am I that much of a bad influence on you?”

You can’t help but clench around her long fingers as she recalls yesterday’s events.

She pulls her fingers out from your mouth and wraps the still wet fingers around your neck.

“Go on, let those pretty cries out, you want them to hear how good I fuck you, right?” you can feel her gaze on the back of your head as she bends you over and pushes your chest against the bathroom stall.

“N-No,” you try to stay quiet but ultimately fail, that little ‘no’ of yours, bounces off the walls and into the ears of the teacher across the room.

“I can hear you,” the teacher sighs, “Come on out, I don’t got time for this.”

Your eyes are blown wide with fear but Ellie just laughs against your ear, “You hear her? Come on, don’t act like you don’t like it, you’re practically sucking my fingers in.”

You shake your head and clasp a hand over your mouth.

Ellie scoffs in annoyance and grabs your hand, pinning it behind your back, “Nah, don’t do that,” she chuckles.

You try your best to be quiet, little whimpers slipping past your lips as Ellie’s fingers speed up and slam into you, your eyes squeezed shut as you pray to any god that’ll answer your prayers to not let the two of you get caught.

“Stop tensing up, it’s making it hard to move,” she chuckles against your ear, her hands still moving at that unbearingly harsh speed, “Don’t know why you’re so scared, all you gotta do is keep that pretty mouth shut,” she says in a condescendingly concerned tone, the smirk on her lips betraying it.

“F-Fuck y-you,” you try to whisper but your words come out in choppy whimpers, a result of her adding another finger.

“These damn kids,” the teacher grumbled, her heels clacking closer.

For a moment, you can see an expression of worry and uncertainty flicker over Ellie’s gentle facial features, the scar on her brow becoming more prominent as she furrows them, “Shut up,” she covers your mouth and stops moving her fingers, a small wave of disappointment washes over you.

Ellie listens closely until the heels clack away and the door to the locker room clicks shut, still she waits a few more minutes to make sure that the teacher really is gone.

She dryly laughs, “You almost got us caught there.”

Her fingers speed up again, her free hand running down your stomach to rub your aching clit. The sensation of her rough fingers rubbing slow circles causes your brain to short circuit, the only thing on your mind now is the girl ramming her fingers into your greedy hole and whispering dirty words against your neck.

Before you know it, you’re unraveling around her fingers, her fingers don’t stop moving as you ride out your orgasm, if anything, they speed up again. She bites back a soft moan at the way you tighten up around her fingers, the sight of you beneath her once again sends a wave of desire through her already lust filled body.

“Good girl,” she mutters against your neck, “See, that wasn’t so bad was it? I knew you’d like it, perv.”

[wafflerageface]

Literacy comprehension has gone downhill the last few years and it shows. I feel like a fucking boomer every time I complain about it, but it really baffles me just how little people understand what they consume. Especially when it comes to literature. I know this post is originally about understanding important things like news and how to parse the right information from it, about being competent in your field of work, but I think it says a lot that people can’t even read between the lines of normal books anymore either. Reading these days are all about the drama, the porn, and all the other soap opera lite attributes to make books more “consumable” that no one actually stops and a) creates a deep story with lots of hidden parallels or b) stops to notice/consider that there could be deeper meanings or parallels. And it drives me insane. I tried joining a book club because I wanted to hear about the different view points people took away from reading and what I got instead was how annoying characters were, how mid or disappointing the sex (or lack thereof) was, and what the next “book boyfriend” should be. I really hate that this is what reading is being reduced to

I cannot stress the importance of paying attention in language classes in high school. Maybe the reason why your English teacher taught you about unreliable narrators is because a lot of the media around you is written by unreliable narrators posing as reliable. Maybe they gave you assignments on interpreting texts so you could draw your own conclusions about news articles. Some of you clearly thought English classes were useless in high school and now are unable to engage critically with media.

[saeist]

dating a soccer prodigy isn't exactly for the weak.

especially when he's always away for games and even worse, when he lives across the world from you

it was hard at first, obviously. adjusting to the time differences, the long distance and all that. given that the sae itoshi was your first long distance relationship at that

somehow, you two make it work.

it made your relationship even more special whenever he was around. when you actually get to be with him physically and not through a screen

holidays together is another thing. luckily, you aren't too keen with celebrating holidays in general, though there's an exception with celebrating valentines day

throughout your relationship with sae, you had never celebrated valentines day together

yeah sae sends you gifts through the mail, lets you borrow his card for your weekly shopping spree, lets you have a spa day and etc. sae may not be present physically but he relentlessly shows how much he cares about you through gift giving— his love language.

it was valentines day and you had already gotten all your gifts from sae

for this year, sae had gifted you a van cleef jewelry set that matches the color of his hair, 1095 roses bouqet (each rose represents the days you two have been dating) and his recent jersey with his cologne on it

sae can really be romantic if he wanted to

you are now in bed after celebrating love day alone again with sae, who was on the phone

"did you like my gift this year?" you hear him ask through the phone. you let out a hum as you rummage through the giftbox, showing off the green velvet box to the camera

"do i like it? i love it!" you smile widely, "it even matches your hair!"

sae chuckles, watching your face light up like a christmas tree. his heart swoons at the sight. how he wishes that he was with you in that very moment to see your reaction in real time

"had to call every van cleef boutique around the area. heard they sold out fast" sae shares, recalling the time he had to yell at his poor manager to find more van cleef stores that sells that specific color

"i'm sure they had one in case a certain red head soccer prodigy would call at their door" you joke, making sae scoff playfully

"you're pushing it"

"oh, am i?"

sae smiles at the camera before he sighs, muttering "it's so fucking annoying i can't be there right now"

your eyes widen hearing his words that basically translate to "i miss you" and its not all the time you hear sae admit that he misses you

"looks like someone misses me" you say in a sing song voice

sae rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in annoyance

"would you rather have me not miss you? because i think i can do that"

"you just contradicted yourself. you just said you think you can but in reality you can't"

you let out a loud laugh watching his face contort into annoyance. whether he likes it or not, you were right. he can't nor will he be able to do that

sae itoshi loves you so fucking much that he might give you the whole world if he could

"well, i haven't told you my gift for you yet" you bring up, grabbing something from your bedside table

sae raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate further. you got him a gift?

you show off an envelope. sae cocks his head to the side, what's that for?

"i can't be the only one to have gifts this valentines so this is my gift to you. i'm coming to spain!" you cheer, showing off your plane ticket to madrid

it takes a few seconds for sae to understand everything as he processed your words carefully. sae is a man of a few words so just seeing his reaction was enough for you to feel his excitement with the way he sat up on his bed, eyes wide

"happy valentines, sae. see you soon"

[butch4butchlovr]

It's a little annoying how in conversations critiquing how arcane treated Vi, no one brings up her butch identity. Like, yes, everything that happened to Vi would still be bad if she wasn't butch, but to me, it's even worse due to the fact that she was made to be a very butch character.

1. They took away everything that made Vi butch.

Her love for her family and her community, her morals. Vi was seen as butch not just because of her clothes but because of how loving and protective she was for those around her. She wanted to be there for her city, and she told Ekko that herself in s1 when he took her to the firelight tree. Yet in season two, they took her family away from her yet again, purposely acted like Ekko and Vi's relationship did not exist, and had her become a class traitor because these writers didn't give a flying fuck about her character or what the identity of 'butch' meant. Hell, we barely see Vi struggle with becoming a cop in the first place.

(a bit of a side tangent)

Plus, why should Vi care that Jinx bombed the council anyway? Because it resulted in the death of Caitlyn’s mom? The very person who, along with many others, were fine with putting someone like her in either the fissures where she could work to death for their profit, or negligent enough that someone can throw her in a dangerous prison with no trial, throw away the key, and not give a damn? Why was this not touched on? (I know why) This should've been conflicting for both Vi AND Caitlyn since they both know that topside is corrupt.

There's no reason for Vi to give up her morals like this, even if she sees Jinx as dangerous. The only reason why Jinx exists is due to the council's negligence and Silco's grooming. Vi, of all people, should've understood the nuances of Jinx's attack due to the constant violence and oppression the council and enforcers enacted on the undercity and herself.

2. Vi has the traumas that many butches and studs have gone through.

The police brutality, the need to protect others and not feeling strong enough to do so at times, the constant pressure of needing to be strong (mostly due to being the eldest daughter). So many of us clung to Vi due to those reasons, including myself. Heck, lesbian history shows how much butch lesbians were brutalized by cops, yet Arcane didn't take these traumas seriously, especially the police brutality that Vi was subjected to.

Not once do we see Vi struggle with her experiences from prison. These people beat her every other day for seven years, just for her to come out of prison with no semblance of ptsd? Then, they had Vi get hit by her cop girlfriend with a gun and never touched on it again. What was the point of having Vi go to prison and purposely mention that she was beaten to an inch of her life MULTIPLE TIMES, just to have her be hit by the very cop that these people want her to have a romantic relationship with? It really does seem like they wanted to use both prison and butchness as some cool aesthetic instead of actually treating it as the delicate topic that it is.

3. Reaffirming people's lack of care towards butches as people

People already don't take our traumas seriously as butches, a lot of the audience didn't take Vi's traumas in s1 seriously BECAUSE she's butch. Yet the writers reinforced the same harmful rhetoric of dehumanizing butches, sexualizing us, and romantizing our pain.

Each time Vi was close to mental breakdown or had a mental breakdown, it was not taken seriously. Vi almost breaks down to Caitlyn and begs her not to change. What happens? Caitlyn kisses her. When Vi is stuck in a prison cell again and starts to break down and punch the walls, what happens? Caitlyn comes in and cue sex scene. (That's supposedly supposed to reclaim trauma btw)

The WHOLE ENTIRE pitfighter montage was a thirst trap. Here is a butch who is having a severe mental breakdown about the things she had just experienced and the only thing we get of it is shots of Vi self harming (alcoholism, pitfighting), shots objectifying her, and her hallucinations.

We don't get any commentary on how this affects Vi. We could assume it's harmful just like her prison trauma was, but we don't see glimpses of it at all afterwards. Vi literally stops drinking after the montage and we don't see how it affects her. People keep preaching about show don't tell, but when it comes to shows and movies in general you need a balance between both showing AND telling. We see this with how they handled Jinx's mental health in s1, even in bits of Caitlyn’s arc in s2, yet we never see an ounce of this treatment towards Vi.

And certain fans don't help either. They'll defend Vi being hit, defend the lack of exploration on her trauma, and defend the very sex scene that ignores literally everything Vi has gone through during the show. Hell, they get angry at the mere thought of Vi receiving an apology. I mean, what else can I expect from a fandom who thinks Vi can't read and expect Caitlyn to teach her, or wanted Vi to be a virgin so Caitlyn can teach her about sex, or expects Vi to be so unhygienic that Caitlyn needs to teach her how to wash her own ass. (Do y'all see a pattern?)

The treatment of Vi in s2 by the writers is butchphobic. The way people defend how Vi was handled is butchphobic. Defending abuse towards Vi, saying that it didn't harm her that much or that she's been through worse, is butchphobic. Saying that she got a happy ending in a city that hates her and her community, with a woman who has harmed her and showed prejudice against her and her people, is butchphobic.

(And yes, Caitlyn’s line about Vi's blood is prejudiced, it is not just about her being related to Jinx. Mentioning that someone's blood is tainted has been evidence of countless prejudiced ideals towards minorities, ESPECIALLY the lower class.)

The way Vi is treated overall by the writers and by certain caitvi stans is butchphobic and misogynistic and I wished this was mentioned more when talking about it.

[lunaswicked]

Stress Relief - J.U

Paring: roommate!Jey Uso, Fem!Reader Tags: Heavy smut, enemies to lovers, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, pure lust, breeding kink, hair pulling, cervix kissing, 18+, MINORS DNI A/N: Thank you ANON for requesting this one. I had more than enough fun writing this.🩷💛 Word Count: 4.5k

There’s just something about him that pisses you off. 

Maybe it’s that damn mullet—too perfect, like he actually puts effort into keeping it that way. 

Or maybe it’s those stupid grillz that flash every time he smirks like he knows something you don’t. 

Or the way his eyes get all dark and intense whenever you're too close, like he’s waiting for you to slip up. 

And don’t even get started on the hoochie shorts—him walking around the house like he owns the place, thick thighs out, no shame whatsoever—  

“Right, Y/N?”  

You blink, brain still stuck on him, and realize Jasmine’s looking at you expectantly. Fuck. You have no idea what she just said.   

“Huh?” you mumble, scrambling. “My bad, I’m just tired.”   

Jasmine side-eyes you before clearing her throat. “I said, isn’t it Xavier’s fault and not mine? Like, he was the one who stayed up all night gaming, knowing damn well he had a test, and then had the audacity to blame me when he failed because I didn’t wake him up?”  

Classic Jasmine and Xavier. Always on some dumb shit.   

“Yeah,” you nod, finally catching up. “That’s on him. He’s his own person. Can’t blame you for his L.”

After a solid hour of Jasmine ranting about Xavier’s dumbass decisions and you half-listening while nodding at the right times, you finally make it back home. The second you step inside, a heavy sigh escapes your lips. Silence. Thank God.   

You toss your keys on the counter and kick off your shoes, already mentally preparing to crash in your room and not deal with anyone for the rest of the night—  

And then you see him.  

Jey.  

Laid out on the couch like he pays all the bills, legs spread like he owns the damn place, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, the other scrolling through his phone. His infamous hoochie shorts are front and center—gray, slightly too tight, showing way too much thigh.   

Your eye twitches.   

“You comfortable?” you deadpan, crossing your arms.  

Jey doesn’t even look up. “Mmhmm.”   

You inhale sharply through your nose, debating whether it’s worth it to start an argument tonight. Spoiler alert: it’s not.  

With a shake of your head, you step toward the hallway, but before you can make your great escape, Jey finally acknowledges you—well, more like calls you out.   

“You had a good lil date with Jasmine?” His voice is lazy, that usual cocky drawl laced with amusement.   

Your jaw clenches. “It wasn’t a date. We were just talking about some shit.”  

Jey hums like he doesn’t believe you. “Uh-huh.”   

You hate when he does that. It’s like he enjoys getting under your skin for fun.   

Rolling your eyes, you keep walking, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But just as you reach your bedroom door, you hear him mumble, almost like an afterthought—  

“Didn’t even say goodnight. Rude ass.”  

Your fingers tighten around the doorknob, and for a brief second, you consider turning around, throwing a pillow at his stupid manspreading self, and telling him exactly where he can shove his passive-aggressive comments.  

But you don’t.  

Instead, you exhale, push your door open, and mutter just loud enough for him to hear—  

“Goodnight, Jey.”   

You don’t have to turn around to see his smirk. You can feel it.

After shutting the door behind you, you waste no time stripping out of your clothes and heading straight for the shower. The hot water does wonders, washing away the tension from the day, but it doesn’t completely wipe away the lingering irritation from Jey’s annoying ass.  

By the time you step out, fresh-faced and wrapped in an oversized t-shirt, your mood has mellowed slightly. You towel-dry your hair, scrolling through your phone as you step back into the living room, just to grab your notebook off the coffee table.  

And then you see it.  

An empty water bottle. On the floor.   

You freeze, eyes flickering to the plastic offender before trailing up to the culprit himself—Jey, still posted up on the couch like he’s got no worries in the world, scrolling through his phone like the place doesn’t look like a damn mess.   

"Seriously?" you scoff, arms folding across your chest. "You just gon’ leave this here like we got a maid or something?"  

Jey barely glances at you. "Man, I ain’t got time for the arguing shit tonight." His voice is lower than usual, rough around the edges. "I’m already stressed the fuck out."  

You raise an eyebrow, leaning your weight onto one hip. "Oh wow. You’re stressed? No way. I thought you were just chillin’ in those hoochie daddy shorts with not a care in the world." Your voice drips with sarcasm, and you expect him to throw something smart back, to keep up the usual banter.  

But he doesn’t.  

Instead, his jaw flexes, his thumb stopping mid-scroll on his phone screen. He lets out a slow exhale, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes slipping shut for a moment like he’s forcing himself to keep it together.  

Something shifts.  

The air gets heavier, quieter.  

"You ever have one of those days," he murmurs, voice deep and tired, "where no matter what you do, shit just don’t go right?"  

You’re not sure what it is—maybe it’s the way his voice drops, or the way his chest rises and falls like he’s carrying more weight than he wants to admit—but something makes you pause.  

Your fingers tighten around your notebook as you stare at him. "Yeah," you say after a beat, softer this time. "'Cause you ain't the only one."  

He lifts his head then, dark eyes meeting yours. For once, there’s no teasing, no cocky smirk—just something unreadable, something you’re not sure you wanna figure out.  

The tension between you thickens, stretching into the small space between the couch and where you stand.  

And then, before you can even think to move, Jey shifts, legs spreading a little more like he’s testing you, eyes flickering down to your bare legs before dragging back up to your face.  

"You stay runnin’ yo mouth," he mutters, voice just low enough to make your stomach dip.  

Your breath catches slightly, but you don’t back down. "And you stay leaving shit around like a damn child."  

His lips twitch. Not quite a smirk, but close. "You really tryna argue with me right now?"  

"You started it," you quip, gripping your notebook a little tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how the room feels smaller, how the space between you feels like nothing at all.  

Jey leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his presence pulling you in without even trying. His voice drops even lower when he says, "You sure you wanna go there?"  

Your heart kicks up. You should walk away.  

But you don’t.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at him, but it’s not your usual annoyed laugh. No, this one is softer, teasing—like you’re calling his bluff. Because that’s all Jey ever does, right? Talk shit. Act like he’s that guy. Like he gets under your skin more than you get under his.  

But then you see it.  

The way his eyes darken.  

Your laughter dies down when he slowly—real slow—pushes himself off the couch, standing to his full height. He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that unreadable expression, tongue swiping across his bottom lip like he’s thinking real hard about something.  

You should’ve walked away when you had the chance.  

But now? Now it’s too late.  

Jey moves with a lazy kind of dominance, circling you like a damn predator, eyes dragging over your frame, taking his sweet time like he’s got all night.  

You swallow, gripping your notebook a little tighter. "What?" you say, feigning nonchalance, but your voice is already a little weaker than before.  

Jey lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Man…" He exhales sharply, flexing his jaw. "Just told yo ass I’m stressed, mama. I’m tryna keep cool."  

His voice is deep, smooth, but there’s something dangerous lurking underneath it. Like he’s on the edge of something, and you’re the one about to push him over.  

"You ain't the only one stressed," you shoot back, though it doesn’t hold the same bite as before. You feel hot, like the air thickened between you without warning.  

Jey stops behind you now, standing close. Too close. You feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of his cologne mixed with whatever stress he’s been carrying all day.  

And then—his breath is at your ear.  

A shiver racks through you before you can stop it.  

"Maybe I should relieve my stress and fuck the attitude outta you."  

Your breath catches.  

Your whole body goes rigid.  

Because what the fuck did he just say?

Your brain straight up short-circuits.  

Mouth slightly parted, hands gripping your notebook like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded—you don’t know what to say. Because what the fuck are you supposed to say when your roommate, the man you claim to barely tolerate, just whispered some filthy shit in your ear like it was nothing?  

Like he knew what he was doing. Like he knew the effect it would have.  

And fuck—fuck—it wasn’t your fault that your panties were now coated in the wetness from your meaty pussy. It wasn’t.  

Blame the stress, blame the long-ass day, blame him for walking around in them damn hoochie shorts with thighs thick enough to make a grown woman weak. Blame anything but yourself.  

But Jey? Jey knows exactly what he’s doing.  

You feel him shift behind you, not touching you, but standing so damn close that you can feel the heat of his skin, the weight of his presence pressing down on you like a vice.  

"You real quiet now," he murmurs, voice low and taunting. "Where all that mouth go, huh?"  

Your breath is shaky when you finally force yourself to move, spinning around so fast you nearly stumble back into the coffee table. But Jey—being the asshole that he is—catches your wrist, steadying you before you can escape.  

"Easy, ma," he says, voice smooth as hell. Too smooth. Like he’s amused. Like he’s enjoying this shit.  

Your heart pounds so hard it’s all you can hear.  

"I—" You blink, trying to get your shit together, trying to remember why you were mad in the first place. "You—You’re such a fucking ass, you know that?"  

Jey smirks, tilting his head slightly. "And you love it."  

His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin, slow and deliberate. It sends a jolt of heat straight to your core, making your thighs clench on instinct.  

"N-no, I don’t," you lie, voice barely above a whisper.  

His grin deepens, eyes flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your gaze again.  

"Lyin’ ass."  

The tension is so thick you could choke on it.  

And Jey? He’s standing there, looking at you like he’s got all the time in the world, like he’s waiting on you to admit what you both already know.

"Fuck it," you mumbled, your voice breathy and shaky, almost like the words were ripped out of you against your will.  

You didn’t care anymore. Not about the stupid notebook. Not about the stupid tension. Not about the stupid fucking game Jey was playing, getting under your skin and twisting you up all at once.  

You dropped the notebook, not even thinking twice, and yanked him in by his collar, slamming your lips into his.  

It was hard. Demanding. The kind of kiss that’s all teeth and desperation. Like neither of you could wait another second to feel what this fucked-up energy between you really meant.  

Jey’s mouth moves against yours like he’s starving, all heat and tongue, and before you know it, his hands are on you—rough, unforgiving—grabbing your ass like it belongs to him, pulling you flush against him. The pressure of his grip sends a surge of heat straight through your body, your pussy throbbing in response.  

You moan against his lips as his fingers squeeze your ass, the sound barely escaping before he’s swallowing it down. He’s devouring your mouth, like he can’t get enough, like he’s wanted this for way too long and finally got what he wanted.  

You feel it in every inch of your body, that pull, that hunger. You feel his breath mixing with yours, the ragged way he’s breathing, the way his chest is rising and falling like he can’t keep up with what’s happening between you two.  

Your hands slide up to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath your palms, and for a split second, you think about pulling away—thinking you should stop before it gets too far. But the moment your hands find his neck and your fingertips dig into the back of his hair, you can’t think about anything but the way his body feels against yours.  

"Jey," you whisper, barely breaking the kiss, your lips swollen and breathless. "What are we doing?"  

He doesn’t answer, not with words anyway. He answers with another savage kiss, deep and messy, like he’s showing you exactly how far this has gone. And fuck, you don’t know if you’re ready for it, but you sure as hell don’t want it to stop.  

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his dark gaze searching yours like he’s reading every inch of you, figuring you out. You feel the weight of his stare.

“What we shoulda been did,” he murmurs lowly, voice rough as hell.  

And in that moment, you don’t need him to say anything else. You already know.

His body was fucking tense, like he was barely holding it together. You could feel the strain in his movements, the way his shorts were stretched tight, his muscles flexing with every shift. And damn, you could see it—his hard dick pressed up against them, making your heart race even faster.

Jey was barely keeping his cool, sweat beading down his forehead, his breaths coming out in sharp, heavy bursts. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips tight enough to leave marks, and you could see it in his eyes. He was struggling, trying not to lose control, but damn—he wanted to.

You felt the heat of the moment, the tension that was thick enough to choke, and then his voice broke through, low and rough. "Be a good girl and get yo knees fa me," he growled through gritted teeth, barely holding it back.

And fuck, those words hit you like a freight train. It was like a switch flipped in your brain, your body moving almost instinctively as if you already knew what was next. You didn’t even think about it—you just did.

Dropping to your knees, you looked up at him through your lashes, your gaze locking with his, and there it was. That darkness, that possessive hunger that always lurked just beneath the surface. Jey’s jaw was clenched, his hands gripping the back of your head for support, as if he needed it to stay steady.

His eyes roamed over you like he couldn’t believe you were really there, like you were some kind of temptation he couldn’t resist.

You took your time, letting the tension build between you as your fingers grazed his waistband. Slowly, you tugged his shorts down, watching them slip past his hips until they pooled at his ankles. The sight of him like that, completely exposed, made your breath hitch in your throat.

But you weren’t done.

You leaned in a little closer, your hands tracing down his thighs before sliding under the waistband of his underwear. You took a second, letting the moment drag out, before pulling those down too, inch by inch, until they joined his shorts on the floor.

His thick dick arched towards you, glistening slightly as if it had been waiting for this moment. The huge, meaty length, likely around nine inches, had a rosy tip that was already dripping with precum. 

As you traced your finger around the swollen tip, a deep moan escaped his lips. “Ugh, mama,” he murmured, sounding so fucking good. A low grunt rolled from him as you tightened your grip and began to move your hand, the sound of you stroking his wet, aching dick echoed in the living room. “Mmh, shit,” he breathed, tilting his head back.

You lean in, your heart racing, and place a gentle, wet kiss on the swollen, angry tip of his dick. The warmth of your lips sends shivers through his body, and without a moment's hesitation, his hips instinctively thrust forward, a reflex wanting for more. “F-f- fuck, please,” he breathes out, the desperate need in his voice sending a shock through you.

He tilted his head back, surrendering to the feeling moving through him. Veins bulged on his hands as he tangled them in your hair, desperately trying to mask the expressions that escaped him. With each flick of your tongue, his hips shuddered in response. Your other hand began a slow journey, trailing to his balls, where you gave a gentle squeeze, drawing out a gasp that escaped his lips as your mouth sucked him deeper.

You felt him hit the back of your throat, and a whimper slipped from him — a sound of pure need. The feeling made your pussy swell, your wetness pooling as you ground your hips against the fabric of your panties, craving more. 

You could feel his rough grip tightening in your hair, a mix of pleasure and desperation evident in his voice as he stuttered, “Mama —! SHIT, wait—.” His eyes widened, a clear sign of the overwhelming urge building inside him, a tidal wave of release.

But, rather than slowing down, you were only spurred on, sucking him harder while tightening your throat around him, matching the rhythm of your hand as it continued to tease and squeeze his balls. “Please— Mmmmm,” he moaned, pleasure erupting from deep within. Then, without warning, you felt it — a hot rush as he erupted, flooding your throat with warmth, each wave sending electric jolts of satisfaction through both of you.

Jey grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you up with barely any effort, his grip firm but not painful. Without saying a word, he pulled you toward the couch in two long strides, moving like he was in control of every inch of the space between you. 

His breath was still heavy, fanning against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.  

"You know you don’t hate me, mama," he murmured in your ear, his voice low, thick with something dangerous. His lips brushed against your neck, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to make you fall apart.  

"You just hate that you want me," he added, his teeth grazing your skin between kisses, making your knees damn near buckle.  

You let out a shaky whimper, barely above a whisper. "Jey..."  

His grip on you tightened. "Yeah, baby?" he teased, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming out shaky as your fingers gripped onto his arms for some kind of stability. His lips were still on your neck, warm, teasing, like he was waiting for you to say it.  

"F-fuck me... please," you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, but desperate enough for him to hear exactly what you needed.  

Jey pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable—something dangerous. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, and for a moment, he just watched you, like he was letting your words settle, making sure you meant them.  

Then, his grip tightened, and he smirked. "That’s all you had to say, mama."

He flipped you around like it was nothing, hands firm on your waist, making sure you landed exactly where he wanted you—ass pressed up against him. Your hands hit the couch for balance, fingers gripping the fabric as your breath came out shaky.  

Jey didn’t rush. Nah, he took his time, dragging his fingers down your hips before slowly peeling your shorts and panties down, letting the cool air kiss your skin. It was deliberate, like he was making a point—like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

You arched for him without thinking, body reacting on its own, and he let out a low hum—like he liked what he saw, like he was taking a mental picture of the way you were laid out for him.  

Jey peeled off his shirt and tossing it aside, his warm hands running over your hips before he positioned himself right at your entrance.

“Gonna be a good girl fa me and take this dick?” Jey rasped, his voice thick with need, his grip on your hips tightening. His teeth clenched like he was barely holding himself back.  

You barely had time to respond, a shaky “y-yes, I—” slipping from your lips before a gasp tore through you.  

“Oh my God—!”  

Your fingers dug into the couch as he pushed forward, taking his time, making sure you felt every inch of his meaty dick. He was ripping through the gummy walls of your pussy. The room felt hotter, the air thick with tension, his deep groan mixing with your breathy whimpers.

His movements grew rougher, more urgent, his grip firm as he drove deeper. Each thrust sent waves of heat through your body, the pressure making your breath hitch. The sound of his heavy balls meeting your clit filled the room, a rhythm that left no space for second thoughts.  

His low groans mixed with your breathy moans, his pace relentless, like he was set on making sure you felt every bit of him.

“Jey… J-Jeyyy,” you whimpered, voice breaking as he moved just right, hitting that perfect spot like he knew your body better than you did.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, rough and needy. “Yeah… lemme h-hear you, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with pleasure.  

Then he stilled, buried deep, making your breath hitch. His grip tightened as he leaned in, his next words dripping with heat. “You feel so. Fucking. Good, mama,” he growled, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, making sure you felt every inch of him.

Jey’s grip on your hair tightened, pulling you upward just enough to feel the strain in your back as you arched deeper. He fucked you so smooth, almost hypnotic, as each motion seemed to draw out all the tension that had built up between you both. His breaths grew heavier, as if every second was another release of the stress he’d been holding onto all day. 

You were both so close, the tension building, each of you chasing that same overwhelming release. Your body trembled as the pressure inside you built up to an unbearable peak.  

“Jey, I—oh god,” you moaned, your voice shaky as he moved with purpose, knowing exactly what you needed.  

“Mhm, give it to me, mama,” he murmured, his breath ragged. “I’m close too.”  

You let go, the wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body shuddering as the world around you blurred. Jey’s grip on you tightened as he followed, his rhythm slowing as he caught his breath, both of you lost in the aftermath. The air between you was thick, charged, like you were both coming down from something intense and raw.

Jey scooped you up like it was nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You could feel the heat of his skin pressed against yours, and everything felt so close, so right. You were exhausted, barely keeping your eyes open, but it didn’t matter. You just trusted him to take care of the rest.  

He didn’t even say a word—just held you tight and started walking, his hands steady on your ass as he carried you effortlessly. You didn’t even know where he was taking you, but you didn’t care. You were just so tired, so wrapped up in the feeling of him, the weight of your body melting against his.  

Then, he kicked open the bathroom door with one smooth motion, not even breaking a stride, like he’d done it a million times. He didn’t put you down, just shifted you slightly so you were still pressed against him as he turned the shower on. The sound of water filling the air was calming, almost like it was meant to wash away everything from the day.  

When he finally set you down, your legs wobbled slightly, but you steadied yourself, stepping into the shower as the warm water hit your skin. Jey followed you in, his hands never leaving your body as he stood close behind you, like he just couldn’t get enough of being near you.

You could feel yourself finally relaxing as Jey took over, the gentle motion of the washcloth gliding across your shoulders. His touch was soft but firm, like he knew exactly how to soothe you. When the cloth passed over your skin again, it lingered there for a second longer, and then, you felt his lips press a tender kiss to your shoulder. The soft foam of soap clung to his lips, but he didn’t seem to care. It was almost endearing in its own way.  

"Y’know, I always wanted this," he murmured, his voice hushed but full of intention as his fingers ran in slow circles on your back, the washcloth soothing your skin.  

Your stomach fluttered, and the feeling felt so real, so raw. You turned around to face him, meeting his eyes. His smirk was just enough for his grillz to flash in the low light, the mischievous glint in his eyes unmistakable.  

“Yeah… me too,” you admitted, the words coming out quieter than you expected.  

You realized then, maybe you never hated him the way you thought you did. Maybe the whole time, you wanted him so badly, you hated how much you needed him.  

Before you could overthink it, your hand reached up to his wet mullet, tugging him down toward you. Your lips met in a kiss, slow and lingering, as his hand moved to your ass, giving it a softer squeeze. There was no rush now. No tension. Just the feeling of being with him, finally, in a way you never expected. 

There’s just something about him that pisses you off. 

Something about the way he makes you love him.

🏷️: @luvrsluxe @skyesthebomb

[thequeenofcurses]

Death of a Bachelor Part 2

The Wedding

summary: you're marrying the one and only special grade sorcerer: ryomen sukuna. wk: 5.1k (sry)

<- Part 1

Sukuna POV | 3:00 am

“You wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t believe it was worth it,” Nanami’s words echoed in Sukuna’s head throughout the night, sneaking into his dreams. Was tying himself down, forever, really the right decision?

Sukuna tossed and turned before eventually he just sat up and threw his covers off of him. He didn’t bother to throw a shirt on and walked straight to the kitchen. Maybe some water will help. He chugged the glass then drank another and another, yet his head still remained foggy. Fuck. I’ve never felt like this before. What the hell is this?

Not wanting to bother waking you with a text or call, Sukuna unlocks his phone and types a message to the one person he can trust to talk to right now. His assistant.

Sukuna: I know you’re awake. You want to swing by? Uraume: No. Sukuna: I wasn’t asking Uraume: IT’S 3AM SUKUNA! Sukuna: Look I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, just get over here.

Ten minutes pass until Uraume’s short figure is knocking at Sukuna’s door. They quickly enter Sukuna’s security code and just walk through the door, finding a shirtless Sukuna downing another glass of water in his kitchen. 

“You made it,” Sukuna’s voice was lighter than his normal tone. You and Uraume are the only two people who get to see or hear that side of him. “I know it’s late, I just– ”

“Nervous?” Uraume concluded with a nod.

“I don’t get nervous.”

“Sure…” The silence was thick enough to slice through the air. “So, why was I summoned here at three am.”

“Stop acting like you weren’t already awake.”

“Maybe I was busy.”

“You don’t have a life,” Sukuna smirked. “I am your life.”

“Whatever,” the white haired assistant grumbled with an eye roll. They sat on a barstool near the kitchen island, arms together, waiting for an explanation. 

Sukuna paced. “I don’t want any more damn water, but –” he walked back and forth around his large kitchen. “I love y/n, I really do. But for the first time in my life, something is happening to me that I can’t just overcome with my raw strength or power. It’s… unsettling.”

Uraume raised an eyebrow, watching as Sukuna continued his pacing like a caged animal. “You’re unsettled because this isn’t something you can just fight your way through. You actually have to feel it.”

Sukuna stopped mid-step, scowling at them. “Tch. Don’t start getting all philosophical on me.”

Uraume shrugged. “Just saying. You’re afraid of something, and it sure as hell isn’t her.”

Sukuna exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not afraid.” The words came out too fast, too defensive. Even he could hear it. He turned, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. “It’s just… different. No opponent. No enemy. Just me deciding to be with her. And no matter how strong I am, I can’t control the future.”

Uraume tilted their head. “So? You still want to marry her, don’t you?”

Sukuna’s jaw clenched. His thoughts flickered to you, your laughter, the way you challenged him without fear, your unmistakable otherworldly beauty, your strength, the way your nails dig into his back when he’s giving it to you so good. The way your touch softened the jagged edges of his world.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “More than anything.”

Uraume smirked, standing up. “Then quit your bitching and go to sleep. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

Sukuna groaned. “You’re so damn annoying.”

“Just returning the favor.”After a hug and a promise to be early at the wedding, Uraume let themself out. Sukuna trugged back to his bed and tried to get some rest. He really did try. His mind was flooded with thoughts of you and the joy you bring him. From memories of how you two met, fighting curses together, your first date, to the moment he proposed to you.

Fuck it. I have to see her.

Your window was unlocked. Again. As frustrating as it was, you forgetting to lock it, Sukuna was glad he had an easy way to get inside your room. Damn it, woman he thought. You’re gonna be the death of me.

You’re mumbling in your sleep when the movement and sound of your blankets rustling cause you to wake. You blink back your tiredness, head still pounding from the previous night. It takes a few moments until you spot those iconic black tattoos. Sukuna had made his way into your bed.

“K-kuna?” you gasp confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I just,” he started. He gently placed a large hand on your head, running it through your hair. “I needed to see you.”

“You know, it’s bad luck to see a bride on the day of her wedding,” you joked. Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding him close as you nuzzle into his touch. “You okay?”

“Tch. Of course, I am,” he scoffs, but the way his thumb brushes against your cheek betrays his words.

You hum sleepily, watching his sharp eyes soften under the dim light. “You sure? Because I think you might be the one getting cold feet.”

Sukuna huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re really testing me, sweetheart.”

You grin lazily. “Just making sure you’re not gonna ditch me at the altar.”

His grip tightens slightly, just enough to remind you of his strength. “I should be worried about you running off,” he mutters. “Wouldn’t put it past you to get second thoughts at the last second.”

You let out a soft giggle, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

“Good.” There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “You better not change your mind, woman. If you leave me at the altar, I’ll burn the whole damn city down.”

Your body leans into him, so naturally. He gives you another kiss, this time on your mouth. And then another, each kiss getting more and more dominating. “I should take you right now. Make sure you know exactly who you belong to before you walk down that aisle.”

You gasp into his mouth, nodding at his offer. He’s already seen you. Your wedding luck can’t get any worse if you let him have his way with you. Each kiss of his seemingly takes your breath away. You're panting like an animal before Sukuna finally slows down, gripping the sheets instead. This isn’t the time, he thinks to himself.

As your breathing evens out, Sukuna pulls back, letting you lay on his chest. It only takes a few moments before you’re drifting off again and he’s watching the way your lips part slightly in sleep. His hand drags over your blankets before he finally pulls away, slipping out as quietly as he came. After seeing you, his head is clearer than ever. Once Sukuna reaches his home, he’s finally able to peacefully sleep.

The next time Sukuna opens his eyes, golden sunlight spills across his sheets, creeping up his bare chest like a silent reminder that today is the day.

For the first time in hours, he feels rested. No more restless pacing, no more unanswered questions. He knows what he wants. And in just a few hours, you’ll be his.

A sharp knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts.

“Get up,” Uraume’s voice cuts through the morning stillness. “It’s your wedding day.”

Sukuna exhales through his nose, running a hand down his face before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. As soon as he opens the door, Uraume pushes past him, already assessing the situation with their usual cold efficiency.

"At least you don’t look like shit," they remark, scanning his face.

Sukuna smirks. “And here I thought you were gonna say something sentimental.”

“Why would I start now?” Uraume shoves a garment bag into his chest. “Shower then get dressed.”

Sukuna sighs but doesn’t argue. He strips out of his sweatpants and steps into the bathroom, quickly showering before putting on his crisp, custom-tailored suit waiting for him. Black and red, sleek, fitted to perfection, because of course, he refuses to look anything less than perfect. His hands move on instinct, buttoning the cuffs, adjusting the collar.

As he fastens the last button, Uraume watches him carefully. “You’re really doing this.”

Sukuna meets their gaze in the mirror. His reflection stares back, tattoos sharp against his skin, eyes burning with something rare and untamed.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I am.”

A rare, knowing smile tugs at Uraume’s lips. “Then let’s go. Can’t have your bride waiting.”

The ride to the shrine is quiet. Sukuna stares out the tinted window, fingers tapping idly against his knee. Uraume sits beside him, but neither of them speak. There’s nothing to say.

For the first time in years, he’s not walking into a battlefield. No enemies to kill, no grudges to settle. Just a shrine filled with people waiting for him to witness him make a promise he never thought he’d be the type to make.

The car slows to a stop just outside Meiji Jingu Shrine, its towering torii gate standing tall against the early morning sky. The sun filters through the dense forest surrounding the grounds, casting golden rays onto the stone pathways leading to the main shrine complex. The air is crisp, laced with the faint scent of cypress and incense.

As soon as Sukuna steps out, a familiar voice calls his name.

"Uncle Sukuna!"

He turns just in time to catch Yuji barreling toward him, weaving past guests and attendants. The kid skids to a stop right before impact, grinning up at him with the same bright-eyed excitement that always makes Sukuna sigh. Choso follows at a slower pace, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his formal kimono, his expression more reserved.

"You look cool," Yuji says, rocking on his heels. "Like, scary cool. But also, like… kinda groom-y."

Sukuna scoffs. "That supposed to be a compliment?"

Yuji nods enthusiastically. "Obviously."

Choso elbows him lightly. "Don’t be annoying." Then, turning to Sukuna, he hesitates before muttering, "You clean up well."

Sukuna raises a brow. "That’s the best I’m getting?"

Choso shrugs. "Yeah."

Tch. Brats.

Still, he ruffles Yuji’s hair, earning a squawk of protest, and nods at Choso in acknowledgment. This was it. His nephews, the only family he had. And somehow, knowing they were here made something settle in his chest.

"Alright," Uraume cuts in, ever the practical one. "It’s time."

Sukuna exhales slowly, rolling his shoulders. Then, without another word, he steps beneath the torii gate, following the path leading toward the main shrine, where the rest of his life is waiting.

The path toward the shrine is lined with guests, all of them bowing their heads in respect. Sukuna doesn’t care for the formalities, but he appreciates their sincerity. This isn’t a day for indulgence or power, this is something deeper. Something... personal.

Yuji and Choso follow closely behind him, their presence a reminder of why he's here. His nephews, his family. The only ones who ever mattered to him. Their voices barely audible above the murmur of the crowd, until they scramble off to find their seats.

The main shrine comes into view, an elegant structure framed by tall trees and hanging lanterns. The guests are seated in rows, faces mostly unfamiliar, though a few nod their heads in recognition as he approaches.

He can already feel the weight of all their eyes on him. The anticipation. The expectation.

Just before he reaches the steps leading to the shrine, he quietly hands Uraume a small velvet box from his pocket. They take it without question.

It felt absurd to be holding onto them – the rings. Marriage, commitment, wasn’t something he ever saw himself doing. But here he is, with his past behind him and a future he never expected waiting ahead.

As he ascends the stairs, his mind drifts to you. You’re just beyond these doors. Waiting.

He could hear the soft murmurs of the crowd, feel their gazes tracing his every movement.

There’s no turning back now.

The thought flickers across his mind, but before he can give it too much attention, Nanami’s voice cuts through his thoughts, clear and sharp: “You wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t believe it was worth it.”

His lips curl into a smirk, but there’s no denying the truth in those words. He’s here because, despite everything he’s done, everything he’s been through, this matters.

He doesn’t know when it happened, when you became more than just a fleeting moment in his life. The woman who challenged him. Who made him feel things he couldn’t control.

It doesn’t matter.

Sukuna steps inside the shrine, his heart thrumming in his chest, loud enough for him to hear it over the soft sounds of the ceremony music.

Nanami’s words echo again, not just in his mind, but in the space around him. The weight of the promise he’s about to make settles in with a gravity he can’t ignore.This is worth it. For you.

The moment the ceremony begins, Sukuna stands at the altar, his gaze momentarily flickering toward the door. The air is thick with anticipation, and the soft rustle of the crowd fades into a distant hum. Then, like a dream unfolding before his eyes, you step into the doorway, framed by the soft glow of the temple’s sacred light.

Your wedding dress is a vision of elegance, designed to make even the most confident man lose his composure. The black and red fabric hugs your body in all the right places before cascading into a soft, layered skirt that flows gracefully as you move. The lace is so soft, almost translucent, a whisper of romance in every stitch. The long, flowing train drags gently behind you, catching the light with each step, creating an almost dreamlike aura as you make your way toward Sukuna.

His breath catches in his throat the second his eyes land on you, and for a moment, the world around him blurs. His heart beats a little faster, more erratically than usual, as if the weight of the moment has hit him all at once. You're breathtaking. This vision of you in this dress, is nothing like anything he ever imagined. He can’t look away, his sharp red eyes drinking in the sight of you as though he's afraid this moment will slip away if he dares to blink.

Sukuna can’t help but feel a tightness in his chest as he watches you approach, the red veil adding to your allure, making the moment feel all the more surreal. This woman, walking towards him, is no longer just the one who challenged him: she is the one who has captured his heart in a way he never thought possible.

You walk toward him, and despite the crowd’s presence, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to pull you into his arms, but he remains still, unable to tear his gaze away. His heart swells with pride, love, and an emotion he rarely allows himself to feel so fully. You are his everything.

On your slow descent toward the love of your life, you hear lots of happy chants and whistles from your co-workers. The loudest of them all being from the one and only Satoru Gojo. You shake your head at his aloofness and keep your composure.

When you reach the altar, Sukuna’s hand finally moves, the tremor in his fingers betraying his usual confident demeanor. He reaches out for you, his thumb brushing against your hand as if confirming you're really here, with him, in this moment. The dress, the ceremony, everything fades as he pulls you closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're perfect," Sukuna mutters under his breath, a soft growl of appreciation that somehow, only you can hear. There's a flicker of something deep in his eyes, something tender, something real. His lips press together in a firm line as he forces himself to maintain his composure, but the awe in his expression is undeniable.

Like a deadly silent ninja, Uraume quickly sneaks past the old priest to hand him the rings then back to their seat. 

The priest smiles, happily accepting them. The soft murmur of the crowd fades into silence as you and Sukuna stand facing each other, hands clasped tightly. 

“We gather today to witness the union of y/n and Sukuna under the guidance of the kami," the short man starts. "Let us call upon the divine spirits to bless this marriage.” The man opens up the box with the rings, then gestures for you and Sukuna to take them. He nods, signalling for you two to state your vows.

The weight of the moment hangs between you; this promise, these words, are more than just tradition. They're a reflection of everything you've both experienced, everything you’ve shared, and everything that lies ahead.

Sukuna’s gaze doesn’t waver from you as he begins, his voice steady but filled with depth, “I won’t lie and say I always believed in something like this. In love, in a promise like marriage. But you, Y/N… you’re different. You’ve turned everything I knew upside down. You’ve made me want to be someone better. So today, I vow to you, with everything I am, that I will never stop fighting for you.” He takes your ring and slides it onto your finger.

His voice drops lower, softer, yet the intensity of his words cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and true. “I vow to protect you, no matter the cost. To shield you from the world, and to make sure that, for as long as I breathe, nothing comes between us. You are mine, and I am yours. And I will never, ever let you go. Even if the world itself crumbles, I will stand by your side.”

He pauses, his eyes softening as they meet yours. For a brief moment, you catch the flicker of vulnerability in them, something raw, something real. He inhales, then continues, his words heavy with sincerity, “I vow to stand by your side, not just as your husband, but as your equal. To never let you feel alone, to always listen when you speak, and to give you everything I have. My loyalty, my strength, and all my love.”

Your heart thumps in your chest, a rush of emotions surging through you. Sukuna, the same man who once swore he’d never be tied down, now stands before you, giving you these promises, words that hold weight far beyond what any ring or ceremony could represent. The tears you are fighting so hard to keep back start to overflow, softly drifting down your cheeks.

His lips curl into a rare, soft smile, one only you could elicit, and he finishes, his voice steady but imbued with something deeper than words, “I vow to be yours in every way, now and forever.”

The crowd stays silent, but you feel the energy of the moment, the promise that is now sealed between you both.

You take a deep breath, feeling the gravity of what you’re about to say, and when you speak, your voice is clear and unwavering, despite the emotions swirling inside you. “I used to believe that love was just a word, a concept meant to keep people tied to promises they couldn’t keep. But then you came into my life, and everything changed. You showed me that love isn’t just about words or gestures. It’s about the actions, the choices we make, every single day.”

You take his ring and slide it onto his finger, your hands trembling slightly. “So today, I vow to you that I will stand by you, in the good and the bad, when the world is bright and when it’s dark. I vow to never give up on us, no matter the challenges we face. I promise to face them with you, because together, we’re unstoppable.”

You take another breath, meeting his eyes with a fierce sincerity. “I vow to love you, with everything I have, every single day. To choose you, even when it’s hard, and to never let go of what we’ve built. I promise to be your strength when you falter, your peace when the world is too much, and your home, always.”

A brief moment of silence passes between you, as if the weight of your words is sinking in, deep into your hearts. 

“I vow to honor you, not just as my husband, but as my equal, my partner, my family,” you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. “I’ll never let you feel unimportant, never let you feel alone. You’re the reason I can face the future with hope. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never have to face it without me by your side.”

Sukuna’s breath catches at the weight of your words, and for a moment, you both are lost in each other’s gaze—the vows hanging in the air, binding you together forever.

Finally, the old priest smiles, his voice soft as he claps and says, “You have both expressed your vows, your promises to each other. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

The crowd exhales in unison, the sound of applause echoing through the shrine, but all Sukuna hears is the steady rhythm of his heart. Out of the corner of his eye, Sukuna sees Geto throwing his fist into the air and Gojo waving a sign that says “Death of a Bachelor.” (Gojo’s handwriting is abysmal)

Without hesitation, Sukuna’s hand tightens around yours, and he leans down, pushing back your veil, pulling you close. His lips meet yours in a kiss that’s anything but soft. It’s rough, commanding, and filled with the intensity of everything he’s promised. It’s a kiss that doesn’t hold back, just as he never does. The passion behind it burns hot, sealing the vows with the raw, undeniable force of his love. The tenderness he’s capable of is there, but it’s wrapped in the fierceness that defines him: no hesitation, no doubt.

For a brief moment, time stands still, the kiss, everything and nothing all at once, and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is real. This is your forever.

The after-party began immediately, the transition from ceremony to celebration seamless. After a few obligatory photos, some formal, some candid (and more than a few where Sukuna looked like he was barely tolerating the process), he wasted no time leading you to the dance floor, his grip firm yet possessive around your hand.

The guests expected the first dance to be a typical “slow, romantic, something traditional” type song. Instead, the opening chords of Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters" echoed through the venue, the deep, familiar melody sending a ripple of surprise through the crowd.

You looked up at Sukuna, half amused, half touched. Of course, he'd do something unexpected. And yet, as he pulled you into his arms, swaying with effortless confidence, you knew there wasn’t a song more fitting for the two of you.

Your hands slid up to rest behind his neck, fingers tracing the short hairs at his nape. He held your waist, guiding you with an ease that made it feel as if you'd danced together a thousand times before. The world faded away as you moved in sync, each step, each turn, every brush of your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understood.

Sukuna leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured along with the song, his voice husky and deliberate. “No, nothing else matters.”

Your chest tightened, your heart swelling with so much joy it felt like it might burst. You tilted your head back just enough to meet his gaze, and the look in his eyes made your stomach flip. There was no one else in this moment. Just you and him.

When the song ended, a small, energetic pink blur rushed toward you.

"Uncle Sukuna, dance with me!" Yuji beamed up at him, his excitement boundless as he tugged on his sleeve. Behind him, Choso and Nanami approached, both at a more measured pace, Nanami looking like he wasn’t quite sure how he ended up here.

Sukuna let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "Tch. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, brat."

Yuji just grinned wider, grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the dance floor. The sight of Sukuna, formidable, untouchable Sukuna, humoring a child in the middle of his own wedding made your heart swell even more. Even Choso looked a little softer as he stood beside you, watching his little brother with something close to fondness.

Maybe someday you can have your own child with him.

You used the moment to mingle, accepting congratulations from guests, exchanging a few teasing words with Utahime, and even sharing a drink with Shoko and Nanami, who looked vaguely exhausted, but resigned to the festivities.

Eventually, Sukuna found his way back to you, as if drawn by an invisible thread, like he couldn’t stand to be away from you for too long. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“It’ll be time for us to go soon,” he murmured, his voice low and promising. “I’ve got plans for us.” The smirk he wore was nothing short of sinful, and the heat in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers curled into his jacket, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “What kind of plans?”

Sukuna chuckled, his grip tightening just enough to make you feel it. “You’ll find out soon enough, sweetheart.”

And with that, the night continued, filled with laughter, stolen kisses, and the unshakable certainty that no matter what came next, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

As the night stretched on, laughter and music filled the air, the energy never waning. But soon, the time came for the final part of the evening: the send-off. 

Surprisingly, Mei Mei had volunteered to help pack your honeymoon wardrobe. Probably, because she got to shop for everything herself, and the world knows that woman can shop.

Someone, probably Uraume, had rallied the guests to gather outside, lining the grand pathway leading to the sleek, black car waiting at the end. Lanterns and soft golden lights illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over the night. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as everyone took their place, sparklers in hand, the flickering embers mirroring the stars overhead.

Sukuna stood beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders in a loose but possessive hold. He watched the scene with a raised brow, clearly unimpressed by the theatrics. "Tch. Is all this really necessary?"

You laughed, nudging him lightly. “Let them have their fun. It’s not every day the mighty Sukuna gets married.”

His smirk was sharp as he leaned in. “Not every day someone makes me want to.”

The moment the two of you stepped forward, the crowd erupted into cheers. Sparks danced in the air as the sparklers lit up the path, and you felt the heat of Sukuna’s palm as he laced his fingers with yours. He led you forward, your steps slow at first, taking in the smiling faces, the warmth, the love that surrounded you.

Yuji and Ino were the loudest, waving their sparklers aggressively. Nanami stood off to the side, his nod of approval as subtle as ever. Uraume watched from the distance, arms crossed, but their lips twitched slightly, almost like they were proud.

Gojo, of course, was the most obnoxious.

“MY BOY! LOOK AT HIM!” He whistled loudly, practically bouncing on his feet. “DIDN’T THINK I’D LIVE TO SEE THE DAY!”

Shoko, standing beside him with a drink in hand, smirked. “I give it six months before she realizes what a pain in the ass he is.”

Mei Mei hummed in amusement. “I would’ve put money on him staying a bachelor forever. Guess love really does make fools out of us all.”

Geto chuckled from beside her, arms crossed. “If nothing else, it’ll be entertaining to see him domesticated.”

Sukuna acted as if he hadn’t heard any of them, but you felt the way his fingers flexed slightly around yours, the way his grip tightened like he was restraining himself from turning around and making very impolite comments.

Halfway down the path, Sukuna suddenly stopped. Before you could ask why, he turned to face you, eyes gleaming with something dark and unreadable. Then, in front of everyone, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a deep, searing kiss, one meant to remind you, and everyone watching, exactly who you belonged to.

The crowd lost it.

Yuji let out a dramatic groan. “OH COME ON! GET A ROOM!”

Gojo cheered obnoxiously. “YEAH! THAT’S MY KING!” He clapped loudly, nudging Geto. “Tell me that wasn’t the smoothest shit you’ve ever seen.”

Geto sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. “I hate that I agree with you.”

Shoko rolled her eyes, raising her drink. “Cheers to that poor woman. She’s in for a lifetime of that.”

A mixture of cheers, whistles, and dramatic groans (most likely from Yuji) filled the air. When he pulled back, Sukuna looked maddeningly pleased with himself. “Had to make sure they know you're mine before I take you away.”

Your breath was shaky, but you managed to roll your eyes. “Pretty sure they already know.” You wave your hand with the wedding ring and wiggle your fingers.

With that, he led you the rest of the way to the car. The door was held open, and before you could so much as settle in, Sukuna was right beside you, his hand already back on your thigh. The car pulled away, the glow of the sparklers fading into the distance, and with it, the last remnants of the wedding night.

Sukuna exhaled, finally alone with you. His fingers traced slow circles over your skin. “You ready for the real fun to begin?”

Your stomach fluttered, anticipation thick in the air. “I should be asking you that.”

His grin was sharp, dangerous. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea what you're in for.”

And with that, your honeymoon truly began.

<- Part 1

A/N I meant for this to be short, but I got carried away writing. I hope you guys enjoy the fluff though <3 Only one more chapter left of this story :)

not sure if you wanted to be tagged but just in case you did: @moonchhu

masterlist | jjk masterlist

[brothersfuck]

It makes NO sense to me that after season 5 ended, Dean slowly and surely stopped babying Sam. No sense at all. Do we hear ourselves?? Dean, who got tortured for forty years in hell and still came back trying to claw his way into Sam, even if it meant Sam was actively pushing him out as well..Dean who stole his little brother away just so they could be together again and so he could have someone to hold him back/to look after...Dean who, even after Sam gives him annoyed glances at being so close, still somehow ends up wrapped sickly around his brother?? The only headcanon I could ever accept for how late season Dean acts is that after throwing away the samulet (the samulet is actually. Really fucking important to me.), he sees it again in Sam's cabinet while he impulsively went through his stuff because Sam has been acting weird and distant and realizes Sam kept it. The metaphorical bile in his stomach goes up to his throat and before he knows it he's puking guilt and shame all over the floor--he thought it didn't mean anything to Sam when he threw it away because it was just another one of those things that Dean did when he was trying so desperately to cover up his growing obsession for his brother (he's realized that doting like a crazy ex girlfriend over your sibling probably isn't normal and tries to stuff it away as much as possible) but no...Sam kept it. The next time he sees Sam, the bile rises up again and he doesn't know what to do. Sam tilts his head and asks why Dean looks so distressed, and Dean can only answer by walking right out of the room, his eyes glaring at the floor. He can't look at his brother. He's too guilty. Too much, and Sam sits himself down, stares at the ceiling, and asks if it was his fault his brother stopped loving him

[wh1ski]

His Hot Mess

pairing : human!sukuna / femreader

rating + word count : explicit + 2.8k

tags : public, you two are exs, guy gets beaten up, jealousy, mentions of training, hair pulling, in front of a mirror, slight degradation, angry sex, talks about forced sex but not actually forced, guys omg i need to get better at tagging.

i totally had to shorten this a bunch. ask box is open for requests. enjoy </3 !

to put it short, you were supposed to be done with him. he was an annoying fucking control freak who thought the world revolved around him. that’s just not life ! but, as you stared at the guy you had been making out with laying on the floor of the club bathroom covered in his own blood - your panties never seemed more wetter. you chose to ignore that last part though.

sukuna was standing over him, toothpick between his teeth as he looked down at him with a bored expression. it wasn’t the guys fault, you kind of felt sorry for him. you were just trying to fuck to forget. coming to your favorite club dressed in a very exposing dress, sitting at the bar until someone grew the balls to come talk to you. it's as if sukuna could sense whenever someone else touched you. five minutes into a heated makeout session and the poor guy was being snatched away and beaten into a pulp.

you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, choosing to cross your arms and glare at sukuna instead. “you dumb idiot, you can’t beat up every fucking guy i decide to fuck!” you yelled, turning around to fix your lipstick in the mirror - ready to go right back out and find someone else to dry hump. just who did your ex think he was?! honestly, it was getting out of hand at this point.

you two have been broken up for two entire months and for some reason everytime you got a man in your bed he would be in the hospital the next day. sometimes you would just be texting a guy and suddenly a message about how they were not worthy would get sent to you and then you would see his hand was broken the next day in public. you weren’t stupid, you know it was the giant idiot next to you doing all of this.

“were you really going to stoop so low and fuck someone like him?” sukuna said, twirling the toothpick with his tongue as he kicked at the guys head - who just groaned and curled further into a ball. “you really think someone like this deserves to touch you? have you no self respect?” you snapped, turning around to slap him in his face. he didn't even budge, instead a smirk spread across his face and god, he looked so good you wanted to kill him.

“leave me the fuck alone, sukuna. we are done, we are finished. you are nothing but a fucking dick to me.” you sneered, going to walk past him when he stopped you by wrapping his hand across your throat. you wanted to fight back but your body just seemed to want to listen to him and it made you even more mad. sukuna leaned down, licking a strip up your neck, “oh, im nothing but a dick to you now?” wrong word choice.

the pitiful fight you were attempting to put up was useless, sukuna was almost a foot taller than you, broader, nothing but muscle. that didn’t stop you though as you scratched at his neck, his face, his arms ( fuck his biceps were so nice ). sukuna just laughed, reaching a hand between your legs to pull down your underwear as you thrashed in his hold. “oh come on. you said it yourself: i'm nothing but a dick to you. dont you want to use me just a little bit?” his cocky attitude was pissing you off. you found yourself wishing sukuna had walked in when the other guy was already deep inside of you. anything to wipe that smirk off his very attractive annoying face.

“so this is what we’re doing? you’re going to beat the shit out of some guy and then force yourself on me?” you asked him, trying to hit him but finding both your wrists held in one of his hands. he shrugged, looking down at you and licking his lips. his split tongue did not help your attraction to him, making him look dangerous, monster-like even. “do you honestly think this is me forcing myself on you? i can show you force.” he whispered deeply, yanking you by your throat and slamming your lips against his. it was all spit, all teeth clashing against each other and a hint of iron as he bit your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

part of you wanted to submit to him but that part was denied as you tried your hardest to win dominance over him, win some sort of control. sukuna made you feel so small, so insignificant, easily replaceable - it's the main reason you two broke up. but your body was undeniably his and his alone. no man could ever make you feel the way he made you feel, cum the way he made you cum, thoughts numb, screaming loudly as he rocked into you harder because he knew it too. he knew he could have you in the palm of his hand within a few seconds.

and thats just what happened. your fighting turned to moaning, your struggling turned to pulling him closer and sukuna just smiled in the kiss, humming as he felt you finally cave into him. you hated that about him and loved it all the same. he pulled back, rubbing his thumb against your throat, “this doesn’t seem like im forcing myself on you. what happened? run out of steam for our little fight? i was kind of enjoying your pathetic attempt at resisting though, you could have done a lot better. are you not embarrassed right now?” before you could say anything in return ( something snarky and didnt make sense ), he was turning you around towards the mirror and pushing you down over the counter.

this was a very risky thing to do. this was a public bathroom, anyone could walk in at any moment… not to mention there was still a badly beaten guy a few inches away from the two of you. this would not look good at all. “um… is this really a good idea?” you asked, staring at his reflection in front of you. sukuna made a noise of disbelief, shrugging his shoulders, “just a few seconds ago you were whining into another mans mouth, ready to fuck on command. but since it's me, you have the audacity to question the situation. interesting.” there was a look of distaste on his face, his eyes darkening with jealousy, disgust, lust, anger. the look went straight to your groin, heating your lower stomach and making you rub your knees together. awe he was going to destroy you ! wait, no. oh no, he was going to destroy you.

you bit your lip staring back at yourself in anxiousness. your mouth was swollen, eyes big and bright, blood on your chin from the erratic kiss you two had shared. it was easy to make sukunas temper flare up… you decided since the two of you aren’t together anymore to do just that. make him angry. “well, i bet he would have been a better lay. i felt his dick press against me when we were kissing… huge.” you mouthed the last word, smirking as you waited for sukuna to react. there were a few moments of silence, where you hoped he wasn't going to walk off, and then he was clearing his throat, taking his trenchcoat off slowly all while avoiding eye contact as he hung it up on the hook. unbuckling his belt as he hummed a tune to himself, pulling it off and setting it on the counter next to you. your stomach was turning and twisting in anticipation, thoughts flooding your head as you awaited ( what you hoped ) would be a lovely little punishment for your words.

truth be told, even though you have slept with other men since the two of you ended things, none have made you cum. your fingers were never enough, the toys never satisfying and leaving you longing for the real thing even more. this was all a show, all a little show because now you two weren’t together and the possibilities were endless. “hmm.. what? cat got your tongue?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side with a fake pout. huge mistake.

he yanked your head back by your hair, making you wince at the pain. his hand moving to the front of your dress and ripping it open, your breasts popping out. he leaned over you, his expression neutral but you knew he was livid. you could see it in his eyes, something sinister and twisted deep in them. “you want to keep fucking talking to me that way, princess?” his voice was thickened with anger, deeper than usual and it made you let out a whine. but it wasn’t enough to stop you from talking back, “are you going to do nothing but talk or are you going to finally fuck me, prince?” bingo.

his eyes flared, turning you around to pick you up and place you on the counter, placing his hand on the ripped fabric and completely pulling you out of the ruined dress. oh yay no. “i can’t believe you would think it's okay to talk to me like that. im a fucking king and you are just a bitch i can replace whenever i fucking feel like it.”

“then why don't you go do that then!” silence. you knew why he didn't, you knew why he chose to stalk you from a distance. sukuna loved you, he just didn’t love you properly. the downfall of both you, an unavoidable experience. the lovesick girl and the emotionally unavailable boy, bound to be nothing more than a failed experience and live the rest of their lives with the scent of the other lingering off of them. he didn't say anything, just sucked his teeth, pushed you to the mirror and leaned his face right between your legs, pushing them up on the counter.

the first lick sent chills down your spine, the second had you let out a moan. by the fifth, your legs were wrapped around his head and you were a whining mess. he ate you out so good, his tongue perfect in every way. he didnt just eat you out, he was more like devouring you, tongue fucking you into oblivion, sucking and licking at your clit. no fingers were needed to get you off and he knew it, too cocky with this skill that sometimes had you wondering just where he learned that. you grinded on his face, hands in his hair as you all but shouted his name. maybe no one was coming into the bathroom because it was very obvious what was happening.

sukuna lifted his head to spit on your pussy, his nose, cheeks and chin completely wet. he looked filthy, he looked unhinged, you wanted to consume him. after a few more moments, he pulled back and wiped his face, smirking as he leaned to give you a kiss. your boy, your man, your beast. he picked you up, rubbing his dick against you. you hadn’t even noticed he had been stroking himself while he tasted you. “our breakup has made you start to talk too much. all my hard work went to waste, all the training. we’ll just have to start over, huh?” you wanted to say something back but then he was pushing his full length into you, shoving you down on him and there were no words left to be said.

“oh what's that? cat got your tongue?” he mocked and you could do nothing but stare at him dumbfounded. you missed this, you missed how full he made you feel, you missed the way he looked at you with so much admiration and need. as he started moving, you wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning loudly at the sounds your pussy was making for him.

“i could break you if i really fucking wanted to.” your head was bouncing as he pounded into you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he lifted you up and down on his shaft, breasts pressed between the two of you with how close he was holding you. trying ( and failing ) to utter out some sort of comeback left sukuna laughing, a smirk showing his pointed teeth. “want me to stop so you can talk?” he asked, stopping his thrusting and giving you a look of amusement as he waited. it was pathetic really, your mouth opened and closed like some sort of fish trying to think of something to say. when you couldnt, sukuna just sucked his teeth and went back to pounding into you. “that’s what i fucking thought.”

you wanted to reply with something snarky but couldn’t form anything other than please, dont stop, just like that, sukuna. melting for him, wet for him. you put your head in the crook of his neck, clawing at his shirt, nails scratching his skin through the fabric. “don’t wanna look at me now?” he snapped, pulling himself out and putting you back down, your knees weak as you held his arm for support. he turned you around, pushing you against the counter, nipples growing hard at the cold contact. “you’re gunna watch me fuck you and you’re gunna watch yourself love it.” he grabbed you by your hair, holding your head up so you had no choice but to stare at the reflection in front of you.

nasty it was. you looked fucked out, he looked feral. you naked with nothing but your heels on and him with his dick out on full display. he eased back into you, tightening his grip on his hair as he slowly pulled back out before snapping his hips forward quickly. “fuck,” he groaned, “i know you missed me, just say you did. can’t nobody fuck you like i can.” thrust. “listen to how wet you sound for me. such a needy girl. i can't believe i deprived my princess.” thrust. “say it. tell me who you belong to.”

and you did, shouting and moaning his name as your legs grew weaker with each snap of his hips. your stomach was growing tight, your legs shaking and daring to give out. he must have noticed because soon his hands were around your waist and lifting you up, arms under your knees and pussy on full display in front of the mirror. “don’t close your eyes. watch it.” he murmured in your ear as you stared with your mouth agap, watching as he fucked right into you.

everything felt so overstimulating. the music from the club, the lewd sounds sukuna was making come out of you, the view of your pussy sucking him in thrust after thrust. you threw your head back against him in pleasure, almost screaming as you felt yourself move closer to your climax. “gonna cum for me? you’re fucking gorgeous. my girl, my beautiful girl. you take my dick so fucking well. look at how pretty your pussy is with me filling it up.” you came so hard, your legs tensing up as you squirted, watching the fluid drip down his dick and onto the ground. “there you go. god, you came so much. you missed me, didn’t you?”

you did, you did, fuck you did. his grip tightened as he held you in place, fucking you like some monster in rut. he was talking to you but your head was so foggy all you could focus on was him inside you. he said something like: such a good fucking girl for me before you snapped back into reality and focused on what he was saying. “i missed your fucking pussy baby. mine, all mine, all fucking mine.” he groaned out, biting the side of your neck to leave his mark before cumming right in you. it was the lewdest thing to witness: your cum and his spilling out of you.

for a second the two of you just stood there. him whispering in your ear and forcing you watch as he slowly fucked into you, the cum seeping out and onto the floor. sukuna placed you on the floor, holding you around the waist so you didn’t fall. “next time we need a bed and about a yard of rope. i wonder if you can talk that much shit with your panties in your mouth.” what a dick. you loved hated him…

he grabbed his trenchcoat and placed it on your shoulders. going on and on about how he would be moving back in tomorrow, something that you never agreed to. but who were you to deny him? and if there was a long line of red-faced people when you walked out of the bathroom, that was okay too.

[brain4stew]

Uhm. Hear me out.

Hcs or whatever you want to write on forsaken characters and gamer reader. Like a reader who’s played forsaken and just ended up in an isekai type situation, so they just have to deal with knowing everything and every character.

I CANNOT WITH ISEAKI THINGS. I AM SO SORRY ANON!

But I can try… 💔💔

(Again, I do not know the characters exact personalities and so on, so they might, if not most likely will be OOC!!)

That being said, headcanons/something is under the cut!! ;

(For the sake of this post, you’ll be a survivor, for let’s be honest. I don’t think anyone would have the qualifications to be a killer. Especially when there’s someone with a gun, a sword, a whole ass turret, and a mf ex-military man on the survivor side. You’d end up dead right away.)

• You have become ADDICTED to the game forsaken on Roblox. You even know most of the lore, and the characters. (Hell, even the upcoming characters too!)

• You’ve come home one day from school/work, and just want to relax and have some fun playing forsaken.

• …You didn’t expect to be fucking transported there. WHY ARE YOU IN FORSAKEN OF ALL GAMES?!

• Unfortunately for you, you cannot respawn back into the lobbies as the other survivors. Sooo… You might be cooked….

• Every survivor was confused, weary and on edge. Where’d you come from? Who are you? What are you? Are you friendly or not? Can they trust you?

• Whenever there is a round, you can maneuver over objects and things, such as; windows, broken walls, and stuff and things you can climb. The other survivors can’t, unfortunately, neither can the killers.

• The killers find you annoying, especially 1x1x1x1. You actually infuriate him to the point he almost gives up being a killer. (He’s just being petty is all.)

• You, knowing that Elliot can’t heal himself, you wing it, and get a medkit for him. Just so he can survive and heal himself up, as he can’t heal himself.

• You once, accidentally got flung on top of a wall, due to John Doe’s spikes. Which, he actually felt guilty off. (You were fucking terrified because of that.)

• Surprisingly enough, Jason can tell that you aren’t any normal robloxian. So, you’re safe from him at least.

• C00lkidd, finds you both annoying and fun! You can run way better than the other survivors, without conserving your stamina! (You do need to conserve your stamina still, otherwise it’ll be a pain for your lungs… And legs…)

• The survivors, are unsure about you, but, Builderman, Shedletsky and 007n7 trust you, as they also noticed you aren’t like them. (Robloxians.)

• Builderman and Shedletsky stay by you, surprisingly. They don’t want the only survivor, that is an actual human, and not a robloxian, just… Die.

• Unfortunately, being in forsaken, will most likely be your downfall. Really.

[utilitycaster]

If you don’t like the show or the person who is the dm just don’t fucking watch jfc you’re annoying

You know, I realized that a lot of people don't understand how critique works, so let's critique this ask! Now, first off, it might be from someone on mobile in which case statcounter isn't helpful, but if it is from someone on desktop they are most likely from a place called Belper, England, in Derbyshire, who looked at a post where I dunked on Bells Hells in the tags (if you are cool and are the person from Belper then my apologies; this is why I am not posting IP address or making fun of Belper, despite it being named Belper).

First: "if you don't like the show" - technically speaking, I was interested enough in Campaign 3 to finish it and my assessment comes from having watched the full thing and come to a conclusion that it was pretty bad. I also have very much liked Matt as a DM in past campaigns; my statements this morning based on both the ending of C3 and fireside chat revealing that this campaign was uniquely poorly planned and run. I do like over 2/3rds of what he's DM-ed. It really is Campaign 3 is bad, everything else is basically fine. Anyway I've already watched, so can't undo that, so I think your actual problem is that you don't want me talking about it. This is interesting to me, because you're not taking your own advice - if you don't like my blog, why read it? Finally, I am very annoying and pride myself on this quality; again, if this is an issue, it seems like not reading my blog would help. This also seems like a weird choice after I made a post like, specifically mentioning people who suck by name and guessing at who anon hate might be from? Like I guess I'm wondering what your goal was here. Not enough to hear from you again but you know, generally.

[nameless-jamie]

Forgotten

Valentine's Day Special - Day 4 (1|2)

Glimpse into The Future series

A Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader (future)

Masterlist Valentine' Special

TW: cursing, kissing

A/N: Hello everyone my PC broke so now I have to post from my Ipad (like a proper Ipad kid) and so it took me a little longer to write all of the ff that I will post today!

Y/N was trying really hard not to be annoyed.

Eight months pregnant, still managing Jamie’s chaotic schedule (because if she doesn’t, who will?), and now, on top of it all, it’s Valentine’s Day.

And Jamie? Her fiancé, the man who is usually all about grand gestures, hasn’t even mentioned it. No flowers, no cheeky comments, not even a dumb heart-shaped chocolate from Tesco.

She had told herself, over and over again, that it was just Valentine’s Day. That it wasn’t a big deal. That Jamie had been busier than usual with training, the season was in full swing.

It was fine.

Except it wasn’t fine.

Because Jamie Tartt was not the type of man to forget any excuse to be romantic.

Their first official Valentine’s together, he had rented out her favorite café and covered it in fairy lights. Last year, he had taken her on a midnight boat ride on the Thames, complete with a ridiculous heart-shaped cake he had insisted on feeding her himself.

And this year?

Nothing.

Not even a mention of it.

She had been waiting all day for something—a knowing smirk, a teasing comment, even a dumb heart-shaped chocolate from Tesco that he grabbed last minute.

But when he had left for training that morning, all she had gotten was a peck on the cheek and a casual, “Don’t work too hard, yeah?”

And now, sitting on the couch, eight months pregnant and feeling more hormonal than ever, Y/N was fuming.

“He forgot, Keeley,” she huffed, her phone propped up on the coffee table as she Facetimed her best friend. “He left for training this morning, gave me a peck—a peck, Keeley!—on the cheek and said, ‘Don’t work too hard, yeah?’”

On screen, Keeley gasped dramatically, her eyes wide. “No way. Jamie? Your Jamie? The same Jamie who once wrote you a song on Valentine’s—and made the lads perform it in the locker room?”

“Exactly.” Y/N groaned, rubbing her belly absentmindedly. “It’s like… maybe he thinks now that we’re engaged and I’m carrying his child, he doesn’t have to try anymore. Maybe he thinks he’s already won me over, and now he can just—coast.”

Keeley winced. “Oof. Dangerous territory, babe.”

“Tell me about it,” Y/N muttered. “Like, okay, I get it. We’ve been together for years, and yeah, I’m not exactly in the mood for a grand romantic gesture right now—”

“Babe, you’re carrying an actual human. You deserve at least a grand romantic gesture.”

“Thank you! That’s what I’m saying!” She threw her hands up. “But at this point, I’d settle for anything. A little post-it note. A Tesco meal deal with a ‘Happy Valentine’s, love’ text.”

“Damn,” Keeley murmured. “He really hasn’t said anything?”

“Nope. Just texts about lunch, a meme about football, and a call asking where his lucky boots are. Oh, and not a single mention of the literal child I’m carrying, by the way.”

“Okay, that’s sus.” Keeley narrowed her eyes. “He’s either completely lost the plot or—”

“Or what?”

A slow smirk spread across Keeley’s face. “Or he’s fucking with you.”

Y/N frowned. “No way.”

“Babe. It’s Jamie.” Keeley raised an eyebrow. “He lives to wind people up. And he loves you way too much to actually forget Valentine’s. I bet you anything he’s planning something.”

Y/N hesitated. On one hand, Keeley had a point. Jamie did have a habit of winding her up just to see her reaction.

But still—he hadn’t even teased her about it.

“I dunno,” she muttered, sinking back into the couch. “I just feel… weird about it. Like, if he is planning something, why wouldn’t he drop any hints? And if he isn’t planning something… what does that mean?”

Keeley gave her a sympathetic look. “Look, babe. Either way, you’re getting answers soon. He’ll be home soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let him dig his own grave if he’s forgotten. And if he hasn’t?” Keeley smirked. “Then prepare to be very impressed.”

Y/N huffed. “I hate that you’re making me feel hopeful.”

Keeley grinned. “That’s what best friends are for.”

When Jamie finally got home, Y/N had prepared herself for disappointment.

She had convinced herself that she was overreacting. That it was just her hormones making everything worse. That it was fine if Jamie had actually forgotten.

But the moment he walked through the door, grinning like nothing was wrong,mall casual, and kisses her forehead like it’s just another day, she felt a fresh wave of irritation rise up.

“Hey, love,” he greeted, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before dropping his bag by the door. “Good day?”

Y/N stared at him. Was he serious?

“You forgot Valentine’s Day.”

Jamie, the audacity, smirks. “Oh. Was that today?”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. “Jamie.”

“What?” He shrugged, kicking off his shoes. “Dunno, babe. Bit of a commercial holiday, innit?”

Her jaw clenched. “You are unbelievable.”

Jamie smirked again, completely unfazed. “C’mon, love. You’re tellin’ me you really care about all that lovey-dovey shit?”

Y/N’s nostrils flared. “Oh, you mean the ‘lovey-dovey shit’ that you have gone all out for every other year? The same lovey-dovey shit that you have always loved making a big deal out of?”

Jamie hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Dunno, babe. Maybe I’ve matured.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she snapped, shoving his chest. “I hate you.”

Jamie just chuckled, catching her hands and kissing her knuckles. “Nah, you don’t.”

She glared. “I swear to God, Jamie—”

And then—there was a knock at the door.

Jamie’s smirk grew even bigger if possible. “That for us, you think?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes as she waddles over to open it. And standing there was a private driver.

“For Miss Y/L/N and Mr. Tartt,” he said smoothly, nodding toward a sleek black car.

Y/N turned back to Jamie, glaring.

“You arse.” She smacked his arm. “You did this on purpose.”

Jamie grinned, completely unrepentant and kisses her hand. “Course I did. Had to see if you’d still marry me even if I was a dickhead.”

Y/N huffed. “You are so lucky I love you.”

“I know.”

The car takes them to a private rooftop restaurant Jamie rented just for them. Fairy lights. Candles. A cozy setup with blankets because he knows she gets cold easily. Her favorite foods. Mocktails. And in the center of the table—a scrapbook.

She flips it open, and inside are pictures of them from the very beginning.

— A polaroid of their first date, Jamie grinning like an idiot. — A ticket stub from the match where she stood up to Mr. Mannion. — A tiny note she once left in his gym bag, which he kept. — Ultrasound pictures, with a note: Can’t wait to meet you, little one. Your mum’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

“You’re a menace, Jamie.” she sniffled.

“Yeah, but I’m your menace.” Jamie just kissed her forehead. “Didn’t forget, love. Just wanted to mess with ya a bit.”

And when he knelt beside her, hands on her belly, whispering, “Happy Valentine’s Day, little one. Your dad’s a bit of a knob, but your mum? She’s the best,” Y/N decided that, yeah.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Jamie, you’re such a—”

But he cuts her off with a kiss, and just like that, all is forgiven.

Yup, she’d still marry him.

Even if he was a dickhead sometimes.

[fallloverfic]

"Dear Castlevania fandom... Just because a man is pretty doesn't mean he's a bottom." - an ignoramus

I already wrote about this before, but if you're too foolish to realize you don't know off-hand why people make whichever character a top or bottom, please shut up. There's a lot of reasons people like Olrox as a bottom, and why I in particular wrote him as a bottom back in 2023, which have nothing to do with how pretty he is (but can include that, and there's no harm in that):

The idea of a human topping a vampire is fun (this was before season 2 released and we relied on season 1 alone: hi new people who showed up in 2025, season 1 came out in September 2023, you didn't start the fandom or the ship :D Welcome, hope you enjoy your stay, but stop being dickheads :D). The idea that Olrox is so intrigued by Mizrak that he allows Mizrak more control in the form of topping is fascinating

Olrox topping Mizrak just isn't as interesting, at least in humanoid form (but in his serpent form, that's more interesting). This had nothing to do with who was prettier, at least in my case. I tested out who I enjoyed doing what, and Olrox bottoming was more fun. So I wrote that.

Are you implying Mizrak isn't pretty for some reason? I mean he's buffer (slightly) but... hmm... Honey, he had me at the side cape.

The idea of a shorter man topping taller man is fun (Olrox is actually taller than Mizrak)

The idea of Olrox, a marginalized First Nation man whose people were genocided by members of Mizrak's religion, letting Mizrak top him is, well... interesting. That Olrox wants to be in a relationship with Mizrak at all (deeper than "oh he's hot, we should fuck"), as indicated by him clinging to Mizrak in S1E4, is a fascinating one. Giving someone like that any power over you, voluntarily (after all, Olrox is stronger than Mizrak, he doesn't have to allow Mizrak any control) is deeply intriguing. The concept of marginalized people who love people who are active in making them marginalized is a complex idea and I like biting into it in fic as a marginalized person who unfortunately does that.

Said clinging in S1E4 feels kind of like something a bottom would do? Obviously you can frame it any way you want, there's no actual "this is bottom behavior" label or whatever on it. But it kind of feels that way and it's fun to angle it that way.

Olrox sitting on Mizrak in S1E3 while clothed is so fun for him riding Mizrak headcanons. I'm sorry you're boring but I'm not.

If people want buff cute guy to top the slightly less buff pretty vampire, let them

You can still draw whatever conclusions you want from the final episode of season 2, but it very much feels like Mizrak is topping at least at some point in their relationship by now, and if people want to go with that, I say let them

The idea of a weaker/newer vampire topping a more powerful/older vampire is fun

Younger top/older bottom is popular

The potential idea that Mizrak is more powerful than Olrox expected + is topping him is fun

Switching is a thing

Certain dynamics are popular in fandom and people roll with them

Olrox topping has been popular in fandom since 2023. I know, I wrote it twice in 2023: Mizrox with Olrox topping, Olrox/Richter with Olrox topping. It's not radical to write, it's just what people enjoy doing for whatever reason. I didn't look at Olrox and Richter and score them on pretty points to see who got to top/bottom. I just didn't see them in that scenario with Richter topping. I imagined it, though. Just didn't get around to writing it as a fic.

I'm curious how precisely you make this stupid concept work with Adrian, who is also pretty lol Are Adrian and Olrox not allowed to fuck in any way where one is a bottom because they're both pretty lol (I made Olrox a bottom in that relationship, hate me if you must :3)

More to the point, people can do whatever they want. It's shipping. Play with your dolls how you want and let other people play with theirs how they wish. Block if it annoys you.