#Table Hierarchy

[clonehighdoublehelix]

[arrimorr]

My ocs, Sir and Ser, aka the eldritch malevolent policemen 😔

[oldschoolfrp]

"The Hierarchy of the Planes of Hell," naming many of the Dukes of Hell and their patrons, roles, and lesser minions, from Gary Gygax's Monster Manual II for AD&D, 1983. This further describes the role of the dragon queen Tiamat ruling over devils in Hell, through her 3 Dukes Amduscias, Malphas, and Goap who command companies of lower ranking devils. Dispater's messenger Titivilus is given the specific title of Nuncio, implying high status as an ambassador. Some of these individual Dukes are detailed in the MMII, while others are left to the DM's imagination. Those marked by asterisks like Goap are meant to be pit fiends, though that clarification is missing from the text (they are identified as such in Gygax's preview of the new devils in Dragon 75, July 1983).

[shadow-djinni]

A Note on "Canon"

Before I begin posting any kind of Forgotten Realms textual analysis, or any of my DM material that I use or have produced for my homebrew campaign (Shadows on the Moonsea), I'd like to make a clarifying note as to my personal approach to "canon" texts/degrees of source material canonicity and how that affects my work. The Forgotten Realms setting is nearly 40 years old and spans five editions of Dungeons and Dragons, with dozens upon dozens of tabletop supplements alone; this before we discuss material provided in Dungeon, Dragon, or Polyhedron magazine articles or the plethora of novels and short stories also published in the setting. As a result, any work with this body of material by necessity involves dozens of publications, spanning several decades, with a significant number of authors and editors who may or may not have been communicating with each other and thereby may contradict each other, or themselves, from text to text. What follows is my own personal, subjective grading of canonicity; that is, which source materials I favor in my research and receive priority in my assessment of the canon, ranked by consistency and utility of the material therein.

Do note: I am largely approaching this from the perspective of a tabletop DM, and therefore materials which are useful at the table receive priority treatment.

Tier 1: AD&D 2e and D&D 3e sourcebooks and boxed sets (Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting boxed set for 2e, Forgotten Realms Adventures for 2e, Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting for 3e)

My primary reference material; these sources are largely consistent both within themselves and with each other, and provide thorough overviews of the setting.

Tier 2: regional/organizational supplements for 2e and 3e, setting sourcebooks for AD&D 1e and D&D 4e and 5e (e.g. The Moonsea for 2e, Code of the Harpers, Silver Marches for 3e, Forgotten Realms Campaign Guide for 4e, Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide for 5e).

These sources are placed lower due to incompleteness of material (4e and 5e), or because they serve as supplementary sources for Tier 1 material. Contradictory information to Tier 1 sources as presented in these sources is assessed on a case-by-case basis. 1e material is considered Tier 2 rather than Tier 1 due to a degree of early-installment weirdness and inconsistencies with the more established material in 2e and 3e.

Tier 3: adventure modules for 1e, 2e, 3e, and 5e, 4e supplements, Dungeon, Dragon, or Polyhedron articles for use at the table by authors who have worked on one or more Tier 1&2 sources.

Adventure modules may contradict established canon in Tier 1&2 sources to make the adventure flow more easily, but may also contain useful reference material (detailed descriptions of adventure sites or small towns, for example). 4e supplementary material is here and not further down the list only because it's officially published tabletop reference; it's low utility, tonally dissonant, and frequently contradictory at best.

Tier 4: magazine articles for use at the table by authors who are not credited in Tier 1&2 sources. Novels and short stories by authors credited on Tier 1&2 sources. Adventurer's League tournament modules and all 4e modules. "Setting agnostic" sourcebooks and supplements.

These often have inconsistencies with the primary texts, but may contain useful information to supplement higher tier materials. Novels and short stories are low priority for use at the tabletop, but may be helpful for NPC characterization beyond write-ups in other material. "Setting agnostic" material frequently draws from other settings' lore (particularly, in my experience, Greyhawk) and as a result contradicts Forgotten Realms canon while also providing little in the way of utility.

Tier 5: novels and short stories by people not credited on Tier 1&2 material. Any material by third parties on DM's Guild or other sites.

As with Tier 4 material, these are often riddled with inaccuracies; particularly in the case of novels, where I'm not certain half of the people writing them have more than vague familiarity with the setting. Anything Greenwood published after 2000, or said on his Twitter, Discord, or Patreon is also Tier 5 because it seems like he's just saying shit these days. Material on DM's Guild is worse because there's no oversight for fidelity to the source canon.

[lyknest]

i love being gen z in corporate (behated) because someone will say "when i had my first job, way back in '99" and I'd reply with "oh i was born in '99" and then everyone will go silent and have an existential crisis LMAO

[smartzelda]

Person: This is my FAVORITE platonic relationship of all time

Me: Oh cool so you're really into their friendship or the idea of it? I can respect that

Person: Haha yeah they're so siblings. Literally the best siblings of all time. I love strong platonic relationships.

Me: .....Okay just say you see these characters as having a strong familial bond and go I beg

[pepprs]

blogging through the tears tuesday lol

[unwhoretunately-a-fangirl]

I desperately wish I could tag the person who I will always remember for jerking it to a Rothko.

my friends jerk off to more avant-garde concepts than your friends do

[theevilwithingame]

Large, modern image of a kitchen and dining room combined with beige walls and no fireplace.

Dandy Farm Minis

[ill-kidnap-all-the-stars]

I will never be able to take far right Alpha Male™ conservativism seriously, these oafs will declare people like Elon Musk a “““High-Value Man””” and it's just like no, girlie, no no no, he's not even low value, that man literally has no value

[habitualvolunteer]

Margo doesn't look enthralled with Quentin's magic tricks, per se, but there's a spark in her eyes and a smile on her face and – anyone who'd have heard it would have sworn it was a hallucination but – she even giggled ( although, to be completely honest, that may have had something to do with the sparkling drink in her hand – courtesy of the love of her life, of course – as well ) at the reveal, before momentarily switching her attention to Eliot ( in whose lap she'd made herself comfortable, half-lying, half-sitting propped up on his chest ) to take a drag of the cigarette he'd just lit without taking it out of his hand, the whole scene screaming of familiarity and casuality with which they'd gotten used to treating each other and their respective possessions ( there's no his or hers when it comes to them, sharing is caring and it has never been more true than when it comes to the Queen and King of Brakebills ).

Eliot smiles indulgently at his Bambi, allowing his hand to be pulled and pressing an absent-minded kiss to the crown of her hair in the meantime, and then they're both back to watching Quentin, with Eliot raising an eyebrow at him to signal he's got their whole and undivided attention once again.

( Although the look on the older magician's face as he watches Quentin's magic tricks could be called a bit more condescending than Margo's, his smile, though smaller, was somehow even fonder than hers... the fact that he didn't particularly understand Quentin's or Margo's love for something never stopped him from loving them all the more for the enthusiam and passion with which they loved those things )

[ have a small thing from S1 / no beast au babies just because I imagined this and couldn't just forget it and now I'm off again to do chores ]

This was usually around the time or even point in literally any form of a relationship that Quentin had with any human being where they grew exhausted with him. Him and his card tricks, his obsession with learning the next new niche slight of hand movement. How he practiced them with a single minded focus that helped block everything out from around him, that carried him through elementary school, middle school, high school, undergrad.

The crazy thing is that he was sitting there criss cross on a coffee table that he'd dragged flush with where Margo and Eliot were lounging and when he pulled out his worn card deck to show them the new trick he'd mastered they just looked amused. He was being indulged sure, but neither looked tired or frustrated, like they were waiting it out to escape his hyper-fixation. Granted she had the patience of a saint when it came to his tricks. But even Jules had only been able to hold out for so long. Margo answered questions when he needed her to and seemed to enjoy it on some level. Eliot just seemed to be watching him. "Oh!" He finally lost focus enough to latch onto the cigarette remembering it'd been a bit since he'd had one. The craving cut through him suddenly, he should probably quit. Quentin was definitely not going to quit. "Can I?" Before he even got a response Q quickly switched the cards all to one hand with a flick of his wrist and reached out and took Eliot's cigarette with the other. "Did you know there's literally a week long magicians convention? It like takes over this whole town, not real magic obviously—" He began rambling breathing in for a moment before exhaling and holding the cigarette back out to Eliot his hand slightly waving at the same time in excitement. "—I've never gone because school and other stuff—" active depression and institutions or trying to socialise like a normal person. "—but all these old greats, the ones I have posters of, are there. How cool is that?"

[atsyscorpses]

I want to crack Banshee open and see him writhe and squirm, making his mind hazy with lust and he struggles to even pretend the guts inside of him are alive or even halfway accurate. Its so nice catching it off guard...

[kashverse]

the first time it happens, sukuna doesn't even react.

your daughter, a tiny little thing with a head full of wild hair that looks just like his but with your color, storms up to him while he's adjusting his tie. she's got a determined look on her face, a plastic figurine clutched in her tiny hands—a sonny angel doll, of all things.

"papa, hold," she demands, her chubby fingers working to shove it into the breast pocket of his pristine, custom-made suit. he looks down at her, red eyes blinking slowly. then he looks at you, standing off to the side, barely holding back your laughter.

"what is this?" he asks flatly.

"sonny angel," your daughter says like it's obvious. "he's cute. for you."

you make a choked noise behind your hand, and sukuna exhales through his nose. his baby girl, his tiny menace, is standing there with all the confidence of someone who has never been told 'no' in her life. because, well. she hasn't. so what does he do? he lets her shove the damn thing in his pocket. adjusts it a little so it's sitting neatly, because if he's going to have a tiny cherub-faced baby figurine sticking out of his suit, it's at least going to look intentional.

"happy?" he asks.

his daughter beams at him, gives his pant leg a firm pat like he's done a good job, then scurries off to continue whatever other toddler nonsense she was up to before this. you’re wheezing in the corner.

"don't say a word," he warns, fixing his cuffs.

you grin. "i didn't say anything."

cut to his meeting later that day. sukuna walks in like he owns the place (because he does), radiating his usual aura of dominance and unrelenting authority. his executives are already seated, tense and ready, knowing full well that sukuna does not entertain idiocy. but today? today there is something new. today, nestled neatly in the breast pocket of his three-piece suit, is a tiny, plastic baby figurine wearing a duck hat.

the entire room freezes.

one poor soul, likely new and unaware of how the corporate hierarchy works under sukuna, makes the grave mistake of letting out the faintest, almost imperceptible snort.

sukuna turns his head very slowly.

"who the fuck just laughed?"

silence. absolute, suffocating silence. the man looks down at his notes as if they might save him from impending doom.

sukuna leans back in his chair, tapping a clawed finger against the conference table.

"anyone else got something to say about my sonny angel?"

no one breathes.

good.

he conducts the rest of the meeting as if nothing is out of place, occasionally adjusting the little doll in his pocket like it's just another part of his attire.

by the end of the week, rumors have spread. no one dares to question the sonny angel. entire powerpoint presentations are given with the utmost professionalism while a tiny, smiling cherub peeks out of sukuna’s suit.

by the end of the month, it becomes an unofficial rule of the office. mock the sonny angel? fired. make a comment? fired. even looking at it for too long earns you a pointed glare.

and by the end of the quarter, the entire upper management team has started discreetly wearing their own sonny angels in solidarity. your daughter, completely oblivious to the corporate chaos she has caused, simply continues her toddler life, happy and content in the knowledge that her papa always carries her gift with him.

and sukuna? well. if having a tiny plastic baby in his pocket means seeing his little girl’s delighted grin every morning, then so be it.

[valleydolli]

౨ৎ Golden Brown ౨ৎ

Knight!Sukuna x Princess!Reader

Summary: You’re betrothed to a Duke from the neighbouring kingdom, but your heart wishes to be with your loyal knight.

“Princess.” 

This is the third time Sukuna has caught you trying to escape your retched palace. You’re trapped. No way out. Even when married, you’ll be here.

Forever bound to the kingdom.

“Yes, Sukuna. What may I do for you? As you can see, I am quite… busy,” you say as you're hanging off the tall wall of your palace. 

“Well, Princess, what you could do for me is get down from that wall. It's a long fall.” Sukuna tells you as he steps towards you. 

You turn your head, looking on the other side of the wall, and your knight is right. Yes, you’ll escape the palace, but you’ll only escape to your death. 

That was not the plan. 

“Fine. Help me then.” Your knight walks over laughing, unbothered by your attempt to escape (this was the 100th time you tried leaving). As your heels touch the ground, you dust yourself off loudly sighing.

“Sukuna, when will you let me leave? I will make sure my parents do not have your head,” you say with a cheeky smile.

Sukuna leans towards your ear and says, “Princess, I will let you leave, I promise you. But only when I am dead.” He pulls away from you, laughing at your angry pout. 

“I will have to make sure that happens soon, then,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear, as you sashay away from today's escape attempt. 

Sukuna continues to chuckle obnoxiously. “Keep dreaming, my princess.”

–

As the day turns to night, you sit at the dinner table, playing with your food, as your father and mother discuss the reason for all your escape attempts… your wedding. 

You are to be wed to a man you would never love. He's a beautiful man. Hair as dark as the night, with earthy green eyes. There is no denying his beauty, but you feel nothing for him; he’s twice your age. You can't laugh with him or smile with him. You feel no joy around Toji, but here you are forced to spend your lives together. 

“Darling, are you not hungry? You should eat, you need energy for your ball tomorrow,” your mother says, laced with excitement. It’s like she’s living through you. Everything at this ball is all catered to her, not you. Not a single thing at this ball will be to your desire, only your mother's.

“I would prefer to sleep, Mother, if that's okay with you.” You don't wait for an answer, pushing your chair back, quickly walking to your chamber with your loyal knight following behind you. It’s as if he’s your shadow. Wherever you go, he follows. Without a doubt. He’s always been with you. He was practically assigned to you at birth, while he was a mere 4-year-old. He was trained to protect you. To be by you always and forever.

“I just don't understand. Why won't they listen to me? I am not ready to be wedded or bear heirs for the throne!” 

“There are so many things I want to do that I cannot do when tied down to a man. Gosh, I do not even know why I am saying this to you, you wouldn't understand.” Sukuna agrees with you; he wouldn't understand. He’s at the bottom of the hierarchy in this world. His life means nothing. Peasant blood. 

But you? You’re royal blood. 

Your existence is everything to the land. 

But not only the land. 

To him.

 “I just wish this wasn't my life, Sukuna. I'd rather be a farm girl than endure this. Honestly.”

Sukuna begins to laugh at you.

“What is so funny? You are always laughing at me.” You pout.

“You are a funny girl, princess, really. Beautiful and funny, what an amazing combination, do you not think?” Your eyes widen, and your face begins to warm. “Did I embarrass you, my princess?” Sukuna smirks.

“No! I-it is hot within these halls. Look around you, no windows, do not be a fool. Let's just… go to my room,” you begin to walk speedily toward your chambers. Sukuna appears in front of you to open the doors of your room. 

You walk in, kicking off your heels, and begin to undress with Sukuna watching from behind. You’ve never felt uncomfortable being unclothed around him. He probably seen you naked more than your ladies in waiting.

As you get to your corset, you ask for your knight's help. He carefully steps towards you, slowly unraveling the ribbons of your tight corset. It's quiet in the room, still, you could hear a pin drop, nothing is heard but yours and Sukuna's breathing. 

Suddenly, his head falls onto your shoulder.

Your name leaves his mouth. 

He never says your name. 

Ever.

“I… I cannot watch you get married.” Sukuna breathes.

“What? You cannot watch me get married? Whatever is that supposed to mean?” You turn around to look at him as his hands stay steady on the small of your waist. “Look at me. What are you saying right now?” He won't look at you. 

“Ryomen Sukuna. I command you to look at me. Right now.” He slowly lifts his head and looks into your eyes. You sound mad at him, but your eyes say otherwise. You have the most beautiful, expressive eyes. They speak to him. One look, just one, is all he needs to know what his princess is thinking.

“I would rather die than watch you marry that man.”

“What man, my knight, say his name.”

“I would rather be drawn and quartered.”

The corners of your lips twitch slightly, threatening to smile. 

“I need you by my side. This is my life. You are my life, Princess. Why do you think I so desperately try and keep you here in this palace, by my side? Call me selfish, I do not care. When it comes to you, I will be the selfishest person. You joke about your parents killing me. Princess, your parents will do nothing to me if you escape. I’m the one who keeps you locked in these walls. I keep you here because I need you in my life. You have made my life thrilling and captivating. If I could marry you, I would do so in a heartbeat, but…” he stops, wipes his hands across his sweaty face. You can hear his heart beating profusely, and his breathing irregular.

“But what, Sukuna?”

He doesn't dare to speak. He can’t. The words won’t leave his throat.

“How can you do this? How can you drop this all on me? When you know. You know Sukuna. I am to be bound to another. How selfish are you?” You push his hands off you and step back. 

“Yes! You’re right, I am selfish. Especially when it comes to you, my princess.” He walks towards you, and you continue to step back, shaking your head in disbelief. “Every single time I hear your parents speak about your betrothed, I die inside. I’ve been with you your whole life, and almost all of mine too. Princess, I cannot lose you. Not now, not ever.” 

“Sukuna…” You look up at him with watery eyes, never expecting such a confession coming from him, the burly 6’9 pink-haired knight. 

Your burly 6’9 pink-haired knight confessing his undying love to you. 

“Sukuna, you know we cannot be together… So, please… Please stop this, do not do this to me. I beg of you.” Tears begin to fall down your soft skin, and your loyal knight reaches out to wipe away your tears. He cups your face as he apologises,  “I am sorry, my princess, truly… but I cannot do this any longer.” He leans down, kissing you deeply. As if you help him breathe, as if you give him life, which you do, you keep him alive, you keep him happy. 

He pulls away, dropping to his knees. Placing his head against your stomach as he continues to profess his love to you. 

You caress your white knight's face as he… cries, he's crying for you? His cries are silent, which pains you even more. 

He’s hurting. 

Sukuna kisses the palm of your hand and whispers, “I yearn for you, my princess. I have never yearned for anyone, no one but you. I have even kept my purity all for you.” You copy Sukuna's actions and drop to your knees. You smile at him and kiss him longingly. You place your forehead on top of his and stare into his deep red eyes, “What can we do, hmm? If the Church wanted us together, they would have allowed it. You would have been born of royal blood. Or I of peasent.”

“Maybe we shall go against them.” He states. “If we truly desire one another, my princess, it is what we must do.”

–

That night, Sukuna slept with you in your chambers. Holding you close against him. They would do this secretly when they were little kids. You would wander the halls in the night. Knocking on his door, asking him to scare away the monsters from under your bed. Of course, there were none under there, but he would always “get rid of them” for you. Like a true knight in shining armour. From the day you stopped asking made him… sad, if you will. There were no fake monsters for him to protect you from. Now, he had to protect you from real monsters threatening your precious life. 

Your aged betrothed included.

As the night becomes day, you hear the servants of the palace prepare for your ball. You believe they’ve been at it since 4 am. You had to kick Sukuna out in case your ladies in waiting came in, or even your parents. 

Your parents know the two of you have a special bond, but seeing you intertwined with him would alert them to your true feelings towards each other. 

You lay in bed, waiting for your entourage of ladies to come help you get ready. You can’t help but think, do you go against the church? It is really the church you’ll be against, or would it be the King? 

Your father.

“Good morning, my lady. Today is your engagement ball. How are you feeling?” She knows exactly how you’re feeling. You tell her everything. She knows you hate the fact that you are to be wed, especially to an old guy like Toji. But what she doesn’t know is that you’re in love with your knight.

“I feel great, Esme,” you smile. She sends an empathetic smile back to you. All ladies gather around you, readying you for the night. 

You haven’t seen Sukuna yet, and it’s almost time for you to greet everyone, including… him. You need your knight by your side. You can’t do this without him.

“Esme, find Sukuna.”

“Yes, my lady,” she bows, running out the door, asking everyone in sight, “Have you seen the princess's knight?” Only to be sent in hundreds of directions. Almost an hour later, she finds him sitting in the forest behind the palace, cheeks rosy, with a bottle of alcohol in one hand, as he struggles to hold his head up. 

He is extremely drunk.

“Sukuna?” She slaps his face a couple of times before his eyes focus on her. She rolls her eyes. “Get up now. The princess is asking for your presence.”

He sighs, shaking his head like an immature child. “Nuh uh, don’t wanna see her like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a bride…” His head falls back, leaning on the tree. “She shouldn’t marry him. Should be m-me,” he hiccups.

Oh. 

Wow, she feels so stupid. It was right in her damn face. How could she not realise? She doesn’t know what to say. There is nothing to say. They can’t be together; the church won’t allow it. Not only is he of peasant blood, but he’s a bastard child. Marrying him would damn the princess to hell. 

“Sukuna, you know that is quite preposterous of you to even think you could marry the princess. You know how this works, do you not?”

He grunts at her.

Of course, he knows, but he doesn’t care, and neither do you. You would rather be rejected by the church than lose him. Same goes for him.

“Let us go, Sukuna. You cannot disobey the future Queen. No matter how close the two of you seem to be…” She knows saying that will work on him. It’s a fact. You are the future Queen, whether he likes it or not. He can’t say no to you.

Sukuna lugs himself towards your chambers behind Esme. She turns to him, looking him up and down reluctantly opening the door because–

“Sukuna! You look disgusting!” You shriek.

He’s not even the slightest bit mad at your reaction; he looks and smells awful. And you? You look like you were perfectly sculpted by God himself.

“Everyone, get out.”

All your ladies scramble to leave except your head lady, Esme. She’s hesitant. She’s put two and two together. She knows. She’s shocked you were able to keep it a secret.

“Esme, you too.”

Sukuna turns to look at her with dead, expressionless eyes. “I thought you said we cannot disobey the future Queen, Esme?”

She nods her head before bowing and leaving the two of you alone.

You point towards to door to your bathroom, “get in the bath.” He doesn’t move. Of course, the most rational thing you can do is throw your shoe at him.

“Okay! Christ.”

You run your sponge across his body. Yes, you’ve seen each other naked, and no, you have not done promiscuous acts with one another.

“Why were you drowning yourself in beer? You know I hate the smell.”

“Sorry.” He muttered

You stare at his grumpy face remembering what you spoke about last night. He doesn’t want you to marry Toji, he wants to have you to himself. “Maybe you should objected at my wedding if it’s making you so upset, hmm? That would be funny.” You jokingly giggle. 

His eyes squint.

You’re joking, but he actually would.

“Sukuna, I was kidding. You would not dare.”

–

The ball has begun, you’ve been sitting on your throne alongside your parents, waiting for Toji to approach you.

Which he soon does.

He stands tall and proud, striding towards you.

“My Princess,” your betrothed says, bowing down slightly.

Sukuna scoffs beside you. Loud enough for Toji to hear, but he chooses to ignore it. 

“May I have this dance?”

“Yes, you may.” You place your hand into his as he leads you towards the middle of the ballroom. While your knight burns holes into the back of Toji’s head. You scowl back at him, mouthing, “stop.” His eyes twitches a little before he does. Storming off to grab a beer.

“I know you do not wish to marry me,” you hear Toji say. Your eyebrows furrow, “What makes you say that, Duke?”

“I could be your father. I am sure you do not want another father. Am I wrong in saying this?” You don't speak; you bite your bottom lip, waiting for him to say something because you will say nothing. 

“It is good for our kingdoms, Princess. Our blood, our lineage, would be unstoppable.”

“You already have a son–.”

“And his mother was a peasant girl. He’s illegitimate; he cannot take the throne after I have passed on. The church would never allow it, and they would never allow you to be with him.” 

The air escapes your lungs, you try to push Toji away, but his grip around you is too tight.

“You have no idea what you are saying right now, Duke. If you please, I think our dance is over. I am sure we will have many more to come.”

You rip yourself out of his grip, walking out towards one of the many balconies. Sukuna catches a glimpse of you leaving, turning to make sure Toji doesn’t follow behind you. 

He doesn’t. 

He’s looking at Sukuna. And Sukuna is looking at him.

Sukuna makes his way towards him, breathing in and out, calming himself down so he doesn’t punch this ass in the face.

“What did you say to her?” His chest is heaving, Toji places his hand upon his chest. 

Who the fuck—

“Calm down, boy. You know what would happen if you laid hands on me.” 

He’s right, he’d have his head in a second.

Sukuna carefully pulls Toji’s hand off of him, before asking what he said to you, but you quickly make your way back, noticing them together.

“Princess.” They both bow.

*Play Golden Brown Teehee*

“Sukuna, I love this song, remember? From when we were children?” 

“I remember.” He softly mutters

“Dance with me.”

“I do not wish to dan–.”

“I command it.”

You bring Sukuna to the middle of the room, bowing at one another, before placing your fingers against one another, covering your sight. You slowly bring your hands down to your lips. Both of you wish your hands were out of the way so your lips could lock, just like last night. 

You dance together, only staring into each other's eyes. The ballroom is filled with guests, but you don’t notice them. You only notice Sukuna, and he only notices you. 

But everyone in the room notices the pair of you. The Princess and her knight, dancing like lovers. In front of her future husband. 

It feels like you’re little kids again, dancing through the gardens and twirling like a ballerina. You don’t want it to end; you want to be with him forever. 

“Do not cry.” He whispers to you. “I will always be by your side. I was born to be by your side. Even though we are not to be wedded. I will never leave you. Till death do us part.”

“Till death do us part.”

—

The ringing of wedding bells are heard all over the kingdom. Today is the day. 

Five months. 

For five months, you’ve been dreading this day. 

For five months, you’ve been begging your parents to let you not wed. 

For five months, you tried to escape the palace. 

All for what?

For you to be in the same position you were trying to escape. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Your father asks you.

You’re standing outside the church, arm in arm with your father. The kingdom all gathered, ready to witness the wedding of the King's only child. His precious daughter. 

The music coming from the organ was beautiful, heavenly if you will. The room is filled with royals from around the world, but your eyes are fixed on him. 

Just… him.

Standing tall in his uniform. But his eyes… they’re shut. He refuses to look at you. If his eyes meet yours, tears will stream down his face. 

He will not cry. 

No. 

You’re meant to be with a man of royal blood, and that’s what will happen. 

This is how it should be. 

“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Toji Zenin and Y/N L/N, to pray for God's blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.” The Archbishop starts, but you hardly listen. You want Sukuna to look at you, but he truly has not opened his eyes since you walked in. 

But when the Archbishop says, “First, I am required to ask anyone present who knows a reason why these persons may not lawfully marry, to declare it now.” 

His eyes open.

“Maybe you should object at our wedding, hmm? That would be funny.”

He waits. 

And waits.

And waits. 

…

...

“I object.”

Authors Note: Okay, I'm sorry about the summary, but like that is literally the hardest part, I don't care. But I hope you enjoyed, I spent all day trying to make this better than how it was to beginning with and I can definitely saying like 2/3 months I've gotten better in my eyes! but i definitely could have made this longer but I need to focus on only you arghhh. *strangles self* okay, okay, i’m done, i swear. :3 oh wait i really like the little banner thingy i did! i mean i didn’t do the drawing but like you know what i mean 🙄 okay BYE

© 2025 @valleydolli please don't copy or translate any of my work. all rights reserved. (I will find you if you do.)

[woninggg]

girll i crave, I CRAVEEE opposites attract, rival coworkers enemies to lovers typa smut with cheol and i think you are only one who can write this. i love your work and live for your work. thank you sooo muchhh for decide to write here💖

🐇:ahhh ty so much my love this made my day also this was so fun yet so hard to write(since English is not my first language) but I kinda love the result hehe

bite back~ 崔胜澈 Rival!Coworker!Choi Seungcheol × Rival!Coworker!Reader

Warnings: office AU, smut, degradation, dom cheol, desk sex, unprotected sex, minor choking, and mutual obsession disguised as hatred.

ᶻᶻ..more content under the cut┈✦

The worst thing about Choi Seungcheol wasn’t that he was good at his job.

No, that wasn’t it. If anything, you would have respected him for that. You didn’t mind competition—in fact, you thrived on it. But Seungcheol was a different breed of competitor. He wasn’t just good, he was arrogant about it. A smug, self centered, insufferable bastard who made sure you knew exactly where he stood in the company hierarchy.

And unfortunately, that spot was right next to yours.

The rivalry started the moment you joined. He had been the golden boy of the company, the one everyone looked up to, until you showed up. You weren’t intimidated by his reputation, nor were you interested in playing second to anyone. And from the moment you went head-to-head in your first project, you knew neither of you would back down.

It wasn’t just competition. It was war.

You challenged every one of his ideas. He shot down every one of yours. You undercut his suggestions in meetings, he made sure to find flaws in every pitch you presented. He stole deals right out from under you, and you made sure to return the favor.

And somehow, despite your mutual hatred, the company refused to separate you.

“You two work well together” your boss had said once, completely ignoring the way you and Seungcheol were glaring daggers at each other across the conference table.

Work well together. Right. If by “well” he meant in the same way oil and water did, then sure.

And tonight was no different.

You were stuck in the office well past midnight, both of you hunched over your respective desks, working on a last minute client proposal. Management had assigned it to both of you, because of course they had—insisting that your “combined talents” would deliver the best results.

You could barely focus with him in the room. every time he shifted, every time he sighed, every time his damn pen scratched against the paper, it grated on your nerves.

“Can you stop breathing so loud?” you snapped, eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t realize my existence was such a burden on you.” Seungcheol’s voice dripped with sarcasm, not bothering to look up from his own paperwork.

Your eyes narrowed at the sound of his voice, your grip on your pen tightening until you feared it might snap.

“Don’t call me that,” you spat back. The last thing you needed was for him to think he could get under your skin. But it was already too late.

He chuckled under his breath, the sound irritatingly deep. “You’re really in a mood tonight, huh? What’s wrong, project not turning out the way you wanted?”

You gritted your teeth. “My project is fine.”

“Mm. Sure about that?” He finally looked up from his laptop, leaning back in his chair with that signature smirk you wanted to slap off his face. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re struggling.”

Your eye twitched. You had never hit a coworker before, but tonight might be the night.

“For fuck’s sake” you muttered, shoving your chair back and standing abruptly. “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

He mirrored your movement, standing as well, and you hated that he was taller, and that he could look down at you like he was amused.

“I don’t know” he mused, taking a slow step closer. “Do you ever get tired of trying to prove you’re better than me?”

Your jaw clenched. “I don’t have to prove anything. I am better than you.”

His smirk widened, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

The way he said 'sweetheart' was like nails on a chalkboard, and it made something snap inside you.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the way the tension between you had been building for so long, thick and suffocating.

Or maybe it was just him.

The unbearable way he looked at you, like he was daring you to break first.

So you did.

You shoved him—both hands pressed against his chest, pushing with all your strength.

He barely stumbled.

Instead, he grabbed your wrists before you could pull away, spinning you around and pressing your back against your desk.

“What the hell are you—”

“You’ve been waiting to do that, haven’t you?” he murmured, voice low.

You refused to back down. Your chin lifted defiantly. “What, shove you? Yeah. Since the day I met you.”

His fingers tightened around your wrists. “I wasn’t talking about that.”

The air grew thick with something you hadn’t noticed before—or maybe you had, but had ignored it because acknowledging it would mean admitting that you felt something other than pure hatred for him.

“You hate me, right?” he murmured, pressing in closer, his thigh sliding between yours. “So tell me to stop.”

Your nails dug into his wrists, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Fuck you.”

His lips curled. “That’s what I thought.”

Before you could protest, his mouth was on yours. His hand moved, fingers wrapping around your jaw, grip just tight enough to make you suck in a breath.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was violent, all teeth and dominance and raw frustration.

His hands slid down, gripping your hips so tight it hurt, lifting you onto the desk as his body slotted between your legs. You yanked at his shirt, pulling him even closer, biting down on his lip just to make him groan.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you panted against his mouth.

He laughed darkly, his fingers already working the buttons of your blouse. “Of course not.”

And yet, the way he dragged his hands down your body like he needed to memorize every inch, told a different story.

Your skirt was shoved up, your underwear pushed aside, and then— a sharp gasp left your lips as his fingers slid inside you, finding you embarrassingly wet.

He groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. “Fuck. This whole ? You’ve been this soaked, and you’ve been acting like you hate me?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but he wasn’t having it.

“Tell me,” he murmured, curling his fingers, dragging a moan from you. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

You shook your head, breathless, defiant. “You don’t get to win.”

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I already won the moment you let me touch you.”

Your cheeks burned with fury, and you bucked your hips, trying to dislodge his hand. But it was too late. His thumb found your clit, circling it in a way that made your knees tremble.

You wanted to slap the smug grin off his face, to wipe the victory from his eyes. But as he continued to kiss you, all thought of anything other than the heat between you disappeared. Your hands moved of their own accord, reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. You didn’t want this, you told yourself, but your body had other ideas.

Seungcheol’s other hand reached up his thumb brushing against the swell of your breast, making your breath hitch. The friction of his trousers against your thighs was agonizing, the fabric rough against your sensitive skin. You could feel his erection pressing into your stomach, demanding attention.

“Say you hate me again,” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and tickling. “Say it while you’re dripping all over my fingers.”

You bit back a moan, hating how much his words affected you. But you weren’t about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much you craved this.

So, you spat out the words with all the venom you had left. “I fucking hate you, Choi Seungcheol.”

His eyes darkened, his smile turning feral. “Keep saying it” he murmured, his thumb moving faster on your clit. “Let’s see if you can convince either of us.”

Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, a whimper escaping your throat. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—”

Seungcheol’s eyes burned into yours, he cut you off by sliding another finger inside you, stretching you out, as you felt the beginnings of a climax building.

His pace was brutal, pumping his fingers into you with no hesitation, curling them just right until your legs threatened to give out.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Bet you touch yourself thinking about me.”

You swallowed down the moan rising in your throat, your eyes squeezed shut. You clenched around his fingers, making him chuckle. “That’s what I thought.”

You were so close, so fucking close, but you’d be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of knowing it.

“Fucking asshole,” you bit out, even as your body begged for release.

His fingers pulled out of you instantly, leaving you empty, and you were about to curse at him until he grabbed your hips, yanking you back against him roughly.

“You want it rough?” he taunted, the sound of his belt unbuckling making your stomach tighten with anticipation. You didn’t answer, your breathing ragged.

You hated him for making you feel like this, for reducing you to this quivering mess of need. You hated him, hated the way his hands felt on you, hated how badly you wanted more. God, you despised Choi Seungcheol, and yet here you were, letting him do whatever he wanted to your body.

He slammed into you, all at once, stretching you open so suddenly that all you could do was gasp. The words died on your tongue, your nails digging into his arms, and his low groan against your ear sent a shiver down your spine.

“Look at you” he murmured, as he pulled out just enough to thrust back in, the force pushing you further up the desk. “So fucking cocky in the office, but now? You’re letting me fuck you open without a fight?”

You smirked, breathless. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t fight.”

And just to prove your point, you lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist and rolling your hips deliberately. He cursed, his fingers flexing against your skin before he retaliated, grabbing the back of your knee and pushing your leg higher, forcing you open even more.

“You really wanna test me right now?” he growled, punctuating the words with a brutal thrust that had your head falling back against the desk.

Your moan echoed through the quiet office, and you knew the moment he heard it that you’d lost the upper hand.

"That’s more like it,” he muttered, dragging his lips along your jaw before biting down just enough to leave a mark. “All that attitude, but at the end of the day, this is what you really wanted, isn’t it?”

You refused to give him that satisfaction. “Fuck you.”

“You are.”

Your glare was half-hearted at best, especially when he pulled back just to watch himself sink into you again, a low groan slipping past his lips. “Shit. You’re squeezing me so tight. You sure you hate me?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but the way your body responded to him told the truth.

Seungcheol knew it. And he was eating it up.

“I could make you cum just like this, couldn’t I?” he murmured against your ear, rolling his hips in a way that had you gasping. “Just from my cock stretching you open, fucking you deep, making you feel exactly how you’re supposed to?”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, your pride hanging by a thread. You couldn’t let him win. But then he moved his hand from your thigh to your throat, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

His grip wasn’t tight—just enough pressure to keep you grounded, and make your head spin with something you didn’t want to name.

“Say it.” His voice was a low command, rough and dripping with dominance. “Say you need me to make you cum.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing against his palm. Suddenly his other hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease.

Your entire body jolted at the contact, a choked moan escaping your lips before you could stop it. The overstimulation of his cock driving into you, his hand wrapped around your throat, and now his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles—it was too much.

“Seungcheol—”

“Say it.” His lips brushed against your jaw. “Or should I stop?”

You gasped, shaking your head immediately. “Don’t.”

He smirked against your skin, but his movements slowed, teasing. “Then say it.”

Your pride was shattered, as your body trembled with need. You couldn’t hold out anymore, not when the pleasure was coiling so tight in your stomach, threatening to snap.

“Fuck—I need you,” you whispered, barely audible.

Seungcheol groaned, his cock twitching inside you, but it wasn’t enough. “Louder.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your face burning“I need you to make me cum.”

The satisfaction in his chuckle made you want to slap him, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Because the moment the words left your mouth, he was relentless. His thrusts turned brutal, his fingers pressing harder against your clit, his grip on your throat tightening just slightly.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, possessive and smug.

The way he said it sent you spiraling, making the pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body tensed, your walls fluttering around him as your orgasm hit you like a truck. You were barely aware of the sounds you were making—half moan, half desperate cry, until you felt him groan against your skin.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he whined, his rhythm faltering. “Look at you—fuck—so pretty when you cum for me.”

His hips stuttered, his hands gripping you even tighter as he thrust deep one last time, his own release hitting him with a guttural groan. You felt, the warmth, and the way he pulsed inside you—and fuck, you shouldn’t have liked it as much as you did.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath, the only sound in the room the ragged inhales and exhales of two people who had just crossed a line they could never uncross.

Then, slowly, Seungcheol leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath still uneven.

“Still think you don’t need me?” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your glare was weak, your limbs too spent to push him away. “Shut up.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through your chest, “So, are we going to pretend like this never happened or...?”

his fingers brushed along your thigh almost absentmindedly as he pulled out, leaving you feeling cold and exposed. You reached down to fix your skirt, your cheeks still flushed with the intensity of your orgasm.

And that’s when it hit you.

This wasn’t the end.

This was just the beginning.

more.┈✦

[hot-patootiee]

I fuck with the time travel fix it fics. But there’s one that I really want to write.

It starts just before or around the beginning of Season 1. Steve and Eddie (or Steve, Eddie, Robin, and maybe Nancy) are sent back and they don’t give a shit about the high school hierarchy.

Eddie and Steve just run at each other and hug in the middle of the hallway. Steve has his arm around Eddie as they walk to class.

Hellfire and Tommy and Carol are losing their shit.

Eddie jumps on the table and starts one of his speeches, harassing Steve until he hops on the table with him and the lecture continues.

Tommy hears Eddie call Steve Big Boy and goes so red in the face he nearly passes out.

Steve and Eddie rig the prom vote so they’d win prom king and queen.

They raise a demo dog and run it through the school on a fucking leash.

Fun stuff like that.