#Word Count: 1.5k

[eryiss]

[Fraxus] - Multifaceted Part 2

Or: The 5 Times Laxus Learned of a New Skill Freed Possessed, & The 1 Time He Fell Victim To Them

Summary: For the rest of the world, it had been seven years. For the members of Fairy Tail it had all been in the blink of an eye. But, for Laxus, that was more than enough time for his closest friend to seem like an entirely new person. This self assured, competent Freed was something new to Laxus, and he found himself enjoying it. Perhaps a little too much… Note: Part two. Arrival of the Bickslow. Hope you all enjoy.

Links: Ao3, Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

2: Crochet

"Thanks for helping with this," Laxus grunted as he hefted a grocery bag into his side so he could struggle for his keys. "I owe you one."

"Don't sweat it," Bickslow shrugged, his own grocery bags shifting precariously. One looked ready to fall, and required some odd shunting movements to stop it from sliding to the floor. Bickslow grinned, watching as Laxus struggled getting his keys from his pocket; this was what happened when you wore such snug pants. "Why'd you even need this much food, anyway? Freed a hoarder now?"

"Nah, Mirajane's got him doing catering for the Yuletide festival. He's been planning the menu for a week now and this," he hefted his bag again, "is for the test run. Apparently Mira needs to taste test everything to give her approval. Don't even know how she found out he could cook."

Bickslow, taking pity on Laxus, reached over and carefully took the only bag Laxus was holding, jamming it in between the two others in a precarious grasp that barely looked safe. Laxus quickly reached into his pocket, unlocked the door, taking the bag back before they all fell to the ground.

"It's a mystery," Bickslow commented, humming theatrically. "However could she have found out? What a pickle."

Laxus halted, his hand reaching for his apartment's door handle. "What's that mean?"

"It means that maybe, and I'm just spitballin', she heard that Freed could cook from his big blonde roommate who has been bragging about his culinary expertise - exact quote - to literally anyone in the guild willing to listen."

The glare Laxus sent Bickslow's way might have been more intimidating had it not been partially obscured by a sauce bottle jutting into his lip. "That is crap and you know it."

"Disagree."

"I mentioned it maybe three times at most," Laxus huffed, glancing at the door as if Freed might have his ear pushed against the other side. "To you, to Evergreen, and to the Metalhead when he wouldn't shut up about why I smelled like gravy."

"Yep, and that, coming from you, is like a normal person hosting a parade," Bickslow grinned. "Now, open up. I wanna know what it's like in the Justine-Dreyar household."

"You're an idiot," Laxus grunted, going to open the door only to hault himself again. "Why was his name first?"

"Oh baby, if you don't know that then I can't help you."

Deciding not to put too much thought into what that meant, Laxus opened the door to his and Freed's tiny apartment. The Lacrima was softly playing some classical music, and Freed was sat at the dinner table, hunched over and facing away from them both. He looked over his shoulder, eyes first hitting Laxus, then Bickslow. His eyes widened, he turned back to the table, and covered something with one of his books.

After sharing a glance with each other, Laxus and Bickslow placed the bags of food onto the counter and turned to their friend, who was glaring at Bickslow, daring him to move. Bickslow took a step forward, and the threat in Freed's expression all but doubled. Despite not knowing what was going on, Laxus grinned and leant back to watch.

"Out," Freed demanded.

"Why?" Bickslow whined, walking towards Freed again. Freed's gaze narrowed, not once leaving him.

"Out," Freed repeated.

Bicksow huffed, crossed his arms, then suddenly jolted. His arm shot out and he pointed at the book, which covered whatever he was hiding. "Gift!" He exclaimed, looking at Laxus with a wide grin. "My Yuletide present is under there, isn't it? He's making me something."

"Out," Freed raised his voice for that demand.

"Fine, fine," Bickslow put his hands up in surrender, stepping back from the table. "I'm going, just first I gotta do this!"

He all but launched himself over the table, and Laxus winced at it creaked under his weight. Bickslow cursed loudly, and Laxus watched as he pulled his hand away from a shining wall of runes that had covered the book and hidden gift. Bickslow looked down at his fingers with a forced pathetic expression, then made a big show of clutching at his hand, staggering around the small room.

Laxus put the spectacle to the back of his mind for a moment as he looked over the table. Bickslow had said Freed was making him something. Freed could make gifts? On the table, other than the book, was a few stray pieces of brown yawn and a barely visible needle. Was he knitting?

"The brutality!" Bickslow almost yelled, the culmination of his self pity. He then swooned in Laxus' direction, who quickly sidestepped so Bickslow knocked his head on the kitchen cupboards. He stood up straight, pouting at Laxus. "Mean."

"But satisfaying,"Laxus shrugged. "He's not gonna show ya, might as well leave."

"Well, fine then," Bickslow wobbled his lower lip. "I know when I'm not wanted. Goodbye you cruel, evil men, who have no care for your fellow man. You're truly meant for each other!"

He wiggled his eyebrows at Laxus as he retreated, and Laxus slammed the door in his face before snapping to look over to Freed. It didn't look like he'd seen Bickslow's expression, which was good. Why such a patently Bickslow action would worry Laxus on such an instinctive level was something he didn't know, but he was glad he was the only one who had seen it.

To busy himself, he put the groceries in the fridge, freezer and cupboard in a way that wouldn't lead to Freed complaining. The kitchen had really become his domaine, and Laxus was happy to comply to his rules. Once it was done, he collapsed into the armchair that would be his bed for the night, and saw that Freed hadn't removed the book.

"What actually is it?" He asked.

"Bickslow's gift," Freed played with the spine of the book absently.

"And is there a reason it's still hidden even though he's gone."

"He's devious, one of his dolls could be hiding somewhere," Freed shrugged slightly. It was a clear lie, and Laxus wasn't going to let it pass. He stared him down, and Freed leant back in his chair. "Well, given that our funds are somewhat… non existent this year, I've chosen to make your gifts by hand. They're all somewhat in the same vein of each other."

"Okay," Laxus nodded. "Don't show me if you don't wanna, but I'm not gonna throw a tantrum if I see something somewhat similar to what you got me."

"Right, right, of course not. Forgive me, I'm still in Bickslow mode," Freed waved a hand as if to dismiss the mindset. "Well, erm, this is it."

He lifted the book, but did nothing more. Laxus hauled himself up and walked to the table, picking up the gift and assessing it. It was one of Bickslow's dolls, with a goofy smile looking up at Laxus, made entirely out of yarn. It had been crocheted, pretty damn well too. It was good. Really good. Freed had made this?

When he looked up, Freed was fiddling with the Lacrima, obviously as an excuse to look anywhere but Laxus' way. So this was important to him, that was fine. Laxus would bolster his confidence, and it would be ridiculously easy because Freed was apparently a crochet savant.

Also, he was being vulnerable. That was new, for both of them.

"This is great," Laxus said, aiming for flippancy. As much as this clearly meant something to Freed, Laxus knew it wouldn't be best to make a big deal about it. "It's really impressive."

"Thank you," Freed said, a little bluntly, but Laxus could see his smile. He was damn pretty when he smiled. "And I'm glad you like it, because I'm not lying when I say you'll get something very similar."

"Looking forward to it."

Two weeks later, in the still too small guildhall, Laxus opened a wrapped box with his name written on a tag in Freed's handwriting. He had settled in a corner to open it, away from prying eyes and the inevitable thrown spells that happened at every Fairy Tail party, and slid the lid off the box.

A small, crocheted lightning bolt sat before him, with a black Fairy Tail emblem in the centre of it. Tucked below it was a small note, also in Freed's handwriting, with the simple message of 'Glad To Have You Back' written on it.

Laxus smiled, running his hands over the lines of yawn. He gave it a little squeeze, watching with almost childish amusement as it bounced back into shape. He looked up and caught Freed glancing at him. He raised the lightning bolt, mouthed a 'thank you' and made sure Freed was watching as he tucked it into the inner breast pocket of his coat, where it would remain.

Except on missions. He'd keep it safe at home on missions. He wasn't going to risk it getting damaged. Not for a moment.

[ottiliere]

have you mentioned where you think wageslave hospital dirk would work? because I think he'd work at home depot or something like that and the only reason why he doesnt get fired is because hes forklift certified. whenever customers ask him where something is he looks at them weird and walks away. he was hired for millworks but switched over to being a loader when everyone realized he sucks at customer service. (OR. i just thought. perhaps hed be one of the ppl at walmart that collects the stuff for online orders)

hello dear anon from jun 22. the thing about dirk is that I think he often bounces between jobs due to a combination of many different factors, including but not limited to: poor attitude, awful work ethic, no collaborative spirit, arrives late, leaves early, steals odds and ends that he feels he can be making better use of...more than staring and walking away I think he’d get outright aggressive with customers! he's hostile, he's pent up, and he does not like being around anyone. he's best avoided, and people probably try to for the most part. so it’s possible that he worked a job like this before, and then got fired for his attitude or walked out. he does not have the fortitude for staying at one place doing the same thing over and over again for an extended chunk of the calendar year. he gets restless.

anyway here's an awesome fic my dear friend dane @davestriderdeathcult4568 wrote of dirk committing job abandonment after he starts to involuntarily regress at one of his many nightstocker positions.

dane notes directly for once instead of throwing paragraphs into a blender with lucys -> to someone outside of his own perspective, he isn't empathetic or cool or anything like that. he isn't even really properly tragic. he's your asshole coworker who sits in the back and barely finishes his portion of the work, if that. he's starting shit with you constantly for no reason, taking the most bizarre shit way too personal, saying weird things with the obvious specific intention to be making everyone in the room deeply uncomfortable....he sucks and it's a nicer place to be when he's gone.

the big screaming problem being exemplified here of course is that it doesnt matter how much sense shit makes in your head or how justified (by merit of humor pain whatEVA) you feel in saying or doing anything; people will be out here making their own calls on you for it. desire to communicate and interact with the world around you becomes overgrown and tumorous when the ability to meet people on their own terms never fully forms. theres just something wrong with him i guess.

It's 4 am, you're in the freezer, and you're past giving a shit. Beyond it. Beyond beyond it.

On good nights, you realize you're fed up at some point in the middle of the night. On most nights, you're at a breaking point before you clock in.

Lately, you've taken to ducking out before you're even finished putting up your tags. This location is short staffed, so everyone else is obliged to put up with that much more of whatever shit you can hand them before they stop putting you on the schedule. You've got it down to a science at this point; you're not in the habit of sacrificing any more time or energy to these people than you absolutely need to.

Tonight, though, they're doing inventory, and the other overnight guy hasn't shown up yet. You're stuck here, unavoidably, for your entire shift, and it's not a good night. You've been grinding your teeth for at least the last hour and a half and you're starting to feel it.

You considered leaving anyway, but you've only been here a few weeks and they'd almost definitely fire you for it. That doesn't bother you on principle, but you spent the last month and a half between jobs and you've about had your fill of it.

It's cold enough back here to warrant a jacket, but you left yours in the car. Or maybe it's at your apartment? Who knows. You're not going out for that shit. You wouldn't go back for that shit if they had you working in the freezer all night. And maybe you will be. Maybe you'll stay back here. Fuck 'em. Fuck literally everyone in this building.

The bare minimum. That's all. The bare minimum, and then home. Your hands are on your elbows, you're bent forward a little, and it's the sound of your own choppy breathing that brings you back out of your head. Embarrassing, embarrassing, sitting in the dark back of the store bitching and hunching over like some whiny chick, hugging yourself. When you exhale you do it forcefully through your nose, straightening yourself out and turning on your heel sharply, with the conviction you typically exert.

You almost slam into your coworker; he hadn't said anything as he'd entered the room, probably only a second or two ago. Almost twice your size, definitely at least twice your weight. He's looking down at you and he's going to say something; your forehead was only a few inches from colliding with his collarbone.

How hard would it actually be, right now, to claw this asshole's throat out. Like, it can't be that big a deal, right? It can't be. It fucking can't be. You're wound up right now like something you've never seen, coiled back like a snake set to spring like a trap it is literally only a few scant percentages of centimeters preventing you from reaching up releasing all that pressure -

Really, it's not even funny how your night's been going. The lights are buzzing and it's just you and him back here. Big fucking deal. It's nothing. This is nothing. He's nothing. Who gives a shit. You sidestep him before he can get a word out, carrying the motion of your stride in your shoulders, it's nothing, this is nothing, you're beyond giving a shit, and then you hear him make a derisive little noise through his teeth and you don't even think about turning around, it just happens.

"What the fuck do you want from me fucking walking up behind me asshole you're the one fucking sneaking around showing up late bitching about me?! You want shit from me!?"

He's looking down at you with genuine surprise that you are equally genuinely incapable of detecting at the moment. You're drooling.

"You're fucking stupid, fucking actually retarded if you think I'm going to run around fucking whining apologizing to you you're a fucking, fucking, complete asshole, you've got no idea what the hell you're even fucking talking t-about, I -"

Out of breath, not out of steam. You inhale quickly, shallowly, lips pulled back over your gums.

"Fucking shut UP!"

Your shoulders are raised and your fists are balled up, nails digging into your palms as you turn again, quickly, on your heel, and tear out of the freezer.

You only remember to breathe again when you're in the considerably more open area of the main store, and it's about that time that you realize the true extent of just how little you want to be here anymore.

Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck 'em.

Out the main doors and into the parking lot, you don't even bother to clock out when you go. You're going to punch the dashboard of your car so hard the plastic fucking cracks.

Across the parking lot and up to your car, you fumble with your keys for a second before you get in. You don't even turn the car on when you shut the door. You just sit there.

Your hands, both of them, fly absently to the top of your head, burying your nails in your skin and tugging against it. You're working your jaw against itself still, glasses knocked crooked when you got in the car, when you turned to leave, when you bumped into him; it doesn't matter, really. You feel almost covered by something, some intangible force compressing you into a different shape.

It goes without saying that you're not crying, but you're breathing like you're crying. Shoulders drawn up again, hunched forward, the muscle fibers in your chest and your stomach twitching without your permission, drawing you together like the strings inside a hollow doll. Face pulled back, contorted, you're still showing your teeth as if it's an expression that means anything.

Tilting your body to the side, you can only manage to draw one of your legs around the steering wheel far enough to hold it to your chest. It's instinctive, and it doesn't make you feel any better. You're lightheaded now, wheezing audibly, clear saliva bubbling on your lips, enough of it to drip visibly down onto your shirt as you stare straight ahead, no longer fully capable of making sense of what's in front of you. You're still not crying.

It's so much more quiet out here than in the store, and so much warmer. Hotter, even, hot, even now in the middle of the night. The sun has been down for hours and it's still hot. You've spent so much time packed into hot cars, and if you were only a little less aware of yourself you might be able to mistake that familiarity for some kind of comfort. You can't, though.

You settle without realizing it into the position you're in, closing your mouth and sniffling to clear your nose, wiping it on the bare skin of your forearm when that isn't enough. Staring ahead, you register neither the dark parking lot nor the dashboard in front of you.

Being here is as bad as being anywhere else, but the idea of leaving is something you can't seem to scrape together right now. You dropped your keys when you got in, on the passenger seat next to you they're sitting reflecting headachey orange-tinted parking lot lights. They may as well not be here at all, though; the concept of driving a car is, right now, too foreign to conceptualize as an option. Even getting out of the car, walking back to the store, to the sidewalk, anywhere...all more terrifying, more definitively punishable in the long run than it is to sit here, alone in the cramped heat.

And it will only get hotter. You can feel yourself sweating; it's dripping down your back, your forehead, your hands are shaking still, no longer from the cold. You're waiting for something, you can feel it, you can feel it, you can hear the heel-toe crunching of boots against gravel, can hear voices, that great oppressive, invisible force keeping you still in your seat, keeping you quiet, keeping you still...

They're getting closer. Dirt driveway stepped on in rhythm, one set of footsteps or more, no definitely more, you're priming yourself now to jump out, run around to the backseat before you're even told to, palms sweating as much as the rest of you is, unable to remember if you're even supposed to be in the front seat right now, unable to remember why you're here, the voices of approaching men getting closer, men more than twice your size, more than twice your weight, more, so much more than you...

You hear the doorhandle open and your whole body twitches reflexively to leap out, but there's nowhere to go. The door isn't open; the men outside on the sidewalk pass by your car without so much as a glance. You watch them go by, shaking. Staring out the window, some great tension returns to you, and you grit your teeth again, wiping the slobber away from your mouth and reaching out for your keys in the passenger seat.

Starting the car, you're rewarded with hot air in your face, a nearly two-decade old air conditioning unit fighting another awful sweaty summer. It'll cool down when you get on the road. Not that you care. You're getting out of here.

The headlights come on and you shift gears, step on the gas, stare ahead at the pavement. Fuck 'em. What a waste of time.

[quillsmora]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: X-Men (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Rogue Characters: Rogue (X-Men), Remy LeBeau Additional Tags: Pre-X-Men Comics Story Arc: Fall of X (2023), Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Sharing Clothes, accurate depictions of cat parenthood, rogue is a bad cook, this was supposed to be rated g but someone got a bit too handsy Summary:

“Mon cœur, you are a brilliant, amazing femme with many talents,” He presses a quick peck to her lips before continuing, “but cookin’ ain't one of 'em.”

“Remy!”

“Anna Marie. You’re the only person I know who’s ever burnt water.”

or: mornings at the lebeau penthouse.

[strandnreyes]

as a stem girl I think my past self would be shocked to know that I’m out here writing thousands and thousands of words for shits and gigs

[pbpsbff]

r&r vegas episode coming soon and hopefully so is the christmas-ish fic

[yappacadaver]

Lol people in big fandoms complaining abt your faves characterization in fic/art

Mort ass is like, you get two (2) characterization options and it’s whatever I’ve got going on or whatever the last fanfic posted in this tag was on abt (posted in 2021)(shortfic)

[floofz]

lil update on my old fashion cupcake fic: i might be combusting

[babymapleleaf]

Going to the library after class today and... I think I'm gonna post the fic that I typed up last night 👀

[planet4546b]

spent the last few days of nano hanging out in triad (MY BELOVED <3) and every day i just go damn triad is so cool. why am do i never get to go to triad in s/n..............

[threenounname]

writers are so easy actually just send them some encouraging words and tell them you love their writing and they will be on their knees sobbing and then write more of it for you

[junietuesday]

its happening again babes *my estimated 4k-word fic, 5k at the very most, is currently at 7.1k and counting*

[mmtions]

okay 58k it's time for bedtime

[mistfallengw2]

*rotates the same four rats in their mind and gains +1 of serotonin whenever any of them smooches another*

[quillsmora]

no proof, one touch (but you felt enough)

@bugborgweek2023 day 2: touch

rated G, guardians of the galaxy (mcu), mantis/nebula

It’s a feeling Mantis has only become acquainted with since joining the Guardians, one she had first felt in her brother when he looked at Gamora. Nebula feels love, not just the platonic, familial love Mantis has sensed in every other Guardian, but romantic love.

It's only when she meets Nebula’s gaze does Mantis realize who it’s for.

or: mantis accidentally uses her powers on nebula. turns out their feelings towards each other aren't quite as different as they once thought.

word count: 1,624

additional tags: bugborg week 2023, feelings realization, first kiss, love confessions, miscommunication

[sugume]

HELL BENT — RYOMEN SUKUNA

✧･ﾟ The Incubus King finally claims his intended.  

( TW ) f!reader, incubus king!Sukuna, major size difference (Sukuna’s 8ft tall!), harem, group sex, fingering, cunnilingus, biting, rough sex, bleeding, forked tongues, cervix fucking, mating bonds, reader goes in some type of ‘heat’, explicit content. 

word count - > 1.5k

author's note: PLS don’t take this seriously Idek what this is!! unedited + I'm trying a new writing style

Can’t stop thinking about Incubus king!Sukuna who finally finds his intended after centuries of looking. Who finds her in a place he never thought to check, the human realm. Who he kidnaps and brings down to his realm, telling you how you are to be his queen and rule his subjects alongside him. You have a mental breakdown your first week. The change of scenery, coming to terms that this is real, the differences between you and Sukuna’s species he calls Incubus. You’ve heard of them before, but you didn't think they were real—who did? They’re eight feet tall, winged creatures who liked to fuck 24/7. Half of them roam around naked and you can’t turn a hallway without catching two or more in sexual activities. So, hearing that you're some type of ‘mate’ to the king of the creatures? You think you’re dreaming. Sukuna brings you food every day and talks about how the mating bond has been activated now. How the several next week's you’re going to be restless until he ruts and claims you. 

You scream and cry how this is his fault. He leans over the buffet of food and smacks your thigh with a grumble. You refuse to speak to him for the rest of the night even when he undresses and washes you. Making crude comments like how he can’t wait to breed your human body full of his offsprings. Sukana who doesn’t have the time for your refusal to talk to him for he has a kingdom to run, so he drops you off to a group of naked, pierced women who he calls his harem. He gently pushes you into one of the tall women before telling her to take care of you or else.  

You can’t find it in your to be jealous of the women for being his ‘harem.’ You don’t even like Sukuna right now and the women, they’re so kind and mature that you would much rather spend your days lazing around with them than sitting on Sukuna’s lap while he laughs at his people who come to him with misfortunes.  His harem teaches you all about their lands, how sex isn’t taboo instead something they need just like oxygen is to humans. How when they fuck, they release some type of energy that’s built up in their body that causes their kind to go insane and terrorize the human realm.  

Sukuna’s harem who are utterly obsessed with how small you are compared to them. They used to spend their days lying around on rich cushions and blankets waiting for Sukuna but even they got bored of him—if it were up to them, they’d lock him in their room and never let him out. His harem who was supposed to be teaching you more about their king but instead chose to spend their days lazily eating you out with their long-forked tongues and fucking you dumb with their big fingers. They make you suckle their breasts and grind on their faces. They’re so gentle after, hissing at each other when one speaks too loudly after you had fallen asleep, washing your body clean, wrapping you in the softest blankets to carry you back over to your room with Sukuna. Some days they happen to catch Sukuna in his room, and they smirk and giggle when they see his jealous face. They take it as the highest compliment their queen has decided to lie with them before the king.  

Incubus king!Sukuna who feels the mating bond grow stronger with every second you're in his castle. He feels himself shifting. He unable to stay away for long periods of time. He forces you to bathe with him before making you sit on his throne with him while he talks to irrelevant people, his hard cock jumping every time you move. You want to get away, moaning and grumbling how his you want to go play with his harem, it’s uncomfortable sitting on muscular thighs for hours while listening to him talk in several languages you don’t understand to people you don’t know. Sukuna who hisses and grumbles at you before going back to his subjects who kneel at the bottom of his obsidian throne.  

 Throughout the week you can’t help but get hornier and hornier until your unable to walk without liquids dripping down your thighs and wetting your skirts. Despite Sukuna's harem playing with you can’t help but plead and cry for him. You barely know the man but your body aches for him, for his cock, his bond. Sukuna who finally comes to see you one day. Who picks you up to set you up top of the cushions so you can watch him fuck his harem. He does everything he could think to the women, he wants to see what makes you twitch and ache and cry. By the time he’s done—hours later—you’re in a puddle of slick panting and crying how you want him. He doesn’t take you though, he can smell that you aren’t ready for him just yet, and he can’t risk injuring his mate who he’s searched for centuries. He won’t allow himself to bring you any harm, so he just holds you in his lap and makes his harem play with you until you pass out. 

Sukuna whose balls deep in one of his women when he sniffs that air and smells the scent change in you. The women he’s fucking laughs when he yanks himself out of her and goes to you. He picks you up from the drenched cushion you're sitting on. You wrap your arms around his neck and sob and the feeling of his body. You try to wrap your legs around his huge frame but you’re too tired, so they just hang as he walks you back to your room, your thighs rubbing against his cock. Sukuna lays you down on the huge bed before ripping your silky dress and ding his head in between your legs. He brings you to several orgasm, but his mouth and forked tongue isn't what you want. You want his cock. You want him to fuck you pregnant while he bites you and claims you as his. You scream and kick and pull and at the pair of horns on top his head, but he just shushes you before going back to eating you out.  

Sukuna finally deems you ready to take his cock but before he kisses and drags his teeth all over your body. He suckles at your breast, commenting on how you’ll be feeding him with said breasts soon. You cry out when he finally turns you ass up. You don’t even think about how much bigger he is than you, how his cock might not fit inside. Sukuna pushes your head into the blankets, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it over your pussy. You scream at him, but he ignores you enjoying the sight of your pussy against his too big cock. When he finally pushes into you scream into the pillow. You scream for more, for him to slow down, for him to breed you, for him to fuck you harder, for him to stop and let you catch a break. He’s too out of it to listen. He never knew what it would feel like to claim a mate but this? If he had any doubt the little human underneath his wasn’t his, he didn’t now. He finally felt whole. He felt your essence flowing into him, making him stronger, more aware, if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel your emotions and hear your thoughts. He fucked your impossibly harder. 

Sukuna leans down and whispers for you to open, and let him in. You don’t understand what he's talking about until his cock shoots some warm liquids and you feel your cervix open. It hurts so good when he pushes deeper into you. You orgasm again before he releases his seed into you. The tension leaves your body at the feeling of his seed rushing to your womb. You’re about to succumb to the sleepiness before Sukuna jolts you awake saying this is just the beginning.  

[enigmatic-mystery-777]

Love At First Sight

You make an impulsive decision when you discover three kittens abandoned in a box by the side of the road, and though you know it'll throw Daniel for a loop, you trust that it'll work out just fine in the end.

Taglist: @daydreampending @geekygumiho @stargaterevival @frostysfrenzy @cuillere @riverageleis @jgem87