#bash / visage

[ozanulusoy]

BR NEW YEARS EVE 2024 - OZAN ULUSOY

"any new beginning is forged from the shards of the past, not from the abandonment of the past."

[gabevargas]

BR NEW YEARS EVE 2024 - GABE VARGAS

"I’d rather regret the risks that didn’t work out than the chances I didn’t take at all."

[papaflynn]

BR NEW YEARS EVE 2024 - CALLUM FLYNN

"no matter how hard the past, you can always begin again.

[windupaidoneus]

I FEEL ILLLLLLLLLL can i bark i habitually growl (real & not an exaggeration) but can i bark

[helldustedstories]

Here we have the costumes for Vox, Echo, and Stolas, respectively.

With Velvette going as Alice, it only made sense for her to give the part of the Mad Hatter to Vox. But a third party had some say over the outfit, and it turns out that Vox is wearing much less clothing than he was anticipating. Thankfully(?) Val also provided fishnets to go along with it so his legs are slightly more covered. While he usually covers up the almost Lichtenberg scars on his chest, in this outfit, they're on full display, their glow visible to all.

Echo considered going as Mystique, but that's a little too on-the-nose. So the Goblin King it is. He's both pretty and masculine, just the sort of combination Echo likes. They could have chosen from any of his many outfits, but the ballroom sequence was the one that stuck out to them.

For Stolas, continuing the tradition they started when she was little, he is matching Via's outfit. He is the Morticia to her Wednesday, enjoying the opportunity to have fun with his daughter, as well as showing off a little in the form-fitting black dress.

[h-a-unted]

[spiderwarden]

@infernaliscor

Evil girls playthrough!!!...And Karlach is also there, disapproving of my crimes

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. ❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john walker x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, (mdni), porn without plot, established relationship, lots of dirty talk, breast play, making out, biting, john walker’s praise kink, prone bone, unprotected p in v sex, creampie. sweet ending.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: yeah I’m not even sorry for being debauched anymore !! this is filth with a soft ending. this lowk got me biting my knuckles during the writing process so ,,, I hope you all enjoy! 🫶

Inky black paints the skies above the Watchtower, New York cityscape a canvas for thousands of stars. It’s a quiet night, a rarity that doesn’t seem to come very often, but you accept them whenever time allows.

Water trickles from the faucet in John’s bathroom, accompanied by the rhythmic noises of a toothbrush being scraped over teeth.

If it weren’t for trying to keep your relationship private for the sake of the team, you would’ve already relocated to his room. However, there’s still some thrill you get in sneaking over once it’s dark like a teenager.

Pinned beneath his sheets, you’re perfectly content to observe from your perch, gaze tracing over raw, sinewy muscle, over yellowing bruises.

He isn’t chiseled or godlike in the way that Bob is, but he’s real, physique attained from years of hard work, of pushing himself to the brink. Broad shoulders are smattered with light freckles, biceps flexing; you don’t stop staring.

John stopped wearing a shirt to bed, clad in a pair of plaid boxers that kissed the center of his thighs. He’s leaning over the sink, spitting a wad of arctic mint into the basin, washing it out with a swig of water.

The sight of this, of him bare and vulnerable, is inherently domestic, a life that you never envisioned for yourself. Something stirs within your belly, mere embers preparing to rage into flames.

His shirt hangs loose over your frame, still alive with his scent, a heady mixture of now-stale cologne and something husky.

When he turns, he catches your gaze with a lopsided smirk, cocking an eyebrow as you sheepishly turn away. You’ve been together for months, and you’re still acting a little bashful — he thinks it’s cute.

He used to convince himself that roughness was the only path forward — that being sharp, uneven like tilled earth, was how he needed to be. You’d convinced him otherwise, and he was grateful.

“You’re not subtle,” John echoes, switching off the bathroom lights before coming to join you in bed. He doesn’t crawl beneath the sheets, hands seizing your hips. “C’mere.”

“John!” You gasp through a mouthful of giggles, flesh crawling with heat as he drags you to him, pinning you against his chest. Face-to-face, he plants a kiss against your jaw, gaze softening.

Tangled in an amalgamation of limbs, you perch against him, letting your weight sink down as you trace circles over his collarbone. “God,” He murmurs, reverent. “You’re gorgeous.”

Behind closed doors, the swagger and temperamental smugness dissipate, leaving just John; he’s significantly softer in private. Whatever facade he wore before seems to drop, and it’s just the two of you — no bravado.

With a lackadaisical smile, you preen beneath his words, lashes kissing the skin beneath your eyes. His hand cups your hips, digits skimming over slivers of exposed flesh.

John stares at you; you’re grounding, an anchor that he never imagined needing. Irises glisten with affection, with a tenderness he still feels undeserving of, but he’s let that go.

He exhales when your hand cups his jaw, thumb tracing over the scruff of his beard, digits mapping his visage as if he’s a constellation. “You’re so perfect.” As the words rush from your mouth, he shifts beneath you.

He doesn’t feel perfect; he’s never felt remotely close to anything other than a fraud, a shell of a man, but you’ve helped him pick up those pieces.

John doesn’t define himself by past actions and merit anymore — he can’t. Inadequacy is the biggest chip on his shoulder, and he’s still learning to let that go. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have changed.

A light huff escapes him, brows drawing together as he squeezes your hip. “Should be telling you that.” He sighs, lips twitching into a threadbare smile.

“Nothing’s stopping you, Walker.” Cheeky, you happen to wriggle closer, bridging the gap between mouths. Lips connect in a soft kiss, something tender; it makes his head spin, brain filled with static.

Through his mouth, his smile remains, a faint upturn that you feel between kisses. You’re still partially on top of him, slotted against his thigh, feeling his hands become emboldened through touch alone.

John’s chest blossoms with a stinging sigh, sharp, attempting to rein in the myriad of crass thoughts that float through his head. It’s difficult with your body against his, touching him as if he’s the only thing worth your while.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart.” He challenges, though it’s exceedingly weak. To your delight, you’re prepared to follow through, lips stilling against his.

Sitting upright, your expression is one of incredulity, a smile finding its way to your mouth. “You started it,” A flimsy excuse, at best. “You started it as soon as you pulled me in.”

He lifts a hand in faux defense, blonde brows pinching together, chest erupting with a huff of laughter. “Not guilty.” John retorts, albeit playfully before watching you crawl away, laying beside him with a cheshire grin.

“You’re ridiculous.” You’re breathtaking when you smile; and John knows that it’s all for him. He covets that, a sacred look shared between lovers, knowing you’ve got him pinned.

In the still silence that falls between, John’s countenance glows with a beam, chest shaking with a huff of laughter. “Right — ridiculous.” He lulls, drawing out each syllable, grunting as he shifts to move on top of you.

His weight ghosts above, a warm pressure that sends butterflies surging through your belly. Bullying your legs apart, he’s perched on his forearms, staring down at you through a half-lidded glower.

The intensity of his gaze pierces through you, sharp and poignant, heat beginning to slither over your limbs. Wordlessly, he bends to kiss you, scruffy mouth claiming yours.

Something charged lingers within his lips, something hungry, as if he’s telling you what he wants without verbalizing it.

When your palms snake to settle over his biceps, caressing him as if he’s something precious, it all feels so raw. He doesn’t bristle at the softness like he used to — he embraces it.

Kissing him stitches your heart together in ways you never thought possible, mending years of a self-inflicted isolation.

He kisses you hoarse, hot and messy, like dry kindling catching fire. Arousal creeps between your thighs, damp and incessant, causing you to shift beneath him.

“John,” You sigh, shivering as teeth languidly scrape over your bottom lip, tempting you. The growing swell of his cock presses through the linen of his boxers, firmly slotted over your clothed core. “Please don’t tease me.”

Much to his embarrassment, it never takes much for him to get riled up, erection rutting against your groin, friction spreading like wildfire.

Through an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue wets your bottom lip, foreheads nestled together, his heart singing in his ears.

One hand shifts to snare within the hem of your shirt, dragging it toward your ribs, fingers tracing up until he gropes your breast. He’s kissing you as if he’s trying to win, ripping air from your lungs.

Your hips urge forward, and as if to torment him further, you’re grinding into his cock, pulling a husky groan from his chest. Hands rake to the nape of his neck, fisting into blonde tresses.

The rough pad of his thumb circles your nipple, gooseflesh erupting beneath his touch. It only furthers the ache that screams between your thighs, slick with a familiar heat.

Mouths continue to clash, a mess of lips and teeth, tongue when John initiates it, eliciting a moan from your throat. Passion overrides everything else, ardor replacing logic.

“Christ, you’re drivin’ me crazy.” He pants into your mouth like a dog in-heat, and it all seems to escalate with a fervent intensity. His Georgian drawl slithers in when he’s wound up tight.

“John, shit — do something about it.” It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did, your wanton remark — but it did, and he’s reaching to tug at your panties.

Serum-infused blood pumps through his veins with a renewed fervor, and instead of sliding them down your legs as he’s done many times before, he grips, grips tightly. “Hope you aren’t attached to these.” He growls into your ear.

His guttural snarl makes you want to press your thighs together, stopped by his musculature, and your eyes go doe-eyed, wide. Digits flex into the cotton material and pull, stitches ripping as he tears the fabric right from you.

A gasp rips through your diaphragm, coupled with shock and awe as he kneads into your breast, rolling your nipple between thumb and forefinger. “J—John!” You moan, feeling his lips wrap around your chest.

“Gonna fuck you until you’re hoarse.” John gruffs against your flesh, and you’re squirming, body buzzing with a teeming him. You’ve never heard him talk like that, but he’s thoroughly and utterly razed.

Needy lips harshly suck at your unattended breast, edged with the graze of teeth. You shiver, back arched, flesh crawling with heat, eyes half-lidded as you scrape your fingers over his scalp.

The floral scent that permeates your skin sends him into a near-frenzy, a smell he’s grown accustomed to. He gropes at your tits, kisses, bites — tension coils in his shoulders, and he wants a release.

“Turn over.”

He isn’t asking you, either.

Dizzy, your muscles feel molten, as if you’re going to melt right through the mattress. Eyelids twitch, your jaw unhinged, pushing a sharp gasp through your diaphragm.

As if to accentuate his command, his lips nip at your sternum, pinching at your nipple with enough stimulation to make you whimper.

He’s grabbing a pillow somewhere from the left side of the bed, relinquishing his weight from you, allowing you to roll over onto your stomach. John kindly manhandles you into place, shoving the pillow beneath your hips.

His name cascades from your mouth like a prayer, anticipation crawling through your spine. He walks a fine line between domineering and passionate, as if he’s solely in control, but you know how easy he falls apart, too.

Fabric shuffles behind you as he discards his boxers, reddened tip of his cock prodding against your slick cunt. It makes you shiver, his breath hot beside your ear.

Weight bears down on you again, more similar to a warm blanket, chest flush as he presses into your back. He’s so much larger, face just behind your own, hands locking in over yours.

The sensation of fingers intertwining sends another spike of liquid heat through your belly, cunt aching for him with desperation. “So wet for me,” He pants, teeth nicking the shell of your ear. “Jesus, you’re so pretty like this.” The grit in his cadence makes you throb.

John’s got a mouth, sure, but he’s never used it like this, torturing you with dirty praise that makes you writhe. As if to tempt him, you push yourself against him, cunt grinding into his cock.

“J—John, please …” He’s got you broken, thoughts scrambled, liquefied in the wake of crass murmurs. You’re undeniably soaked, flesh tingling, body craving him as if he’s air.

The tip of his cock rubs along your pussy, and you’re debauched, nails curling into the sheets, flexing against his fingers. Prone beneath him, he huffs, forehead nudging into the back of your neck.

With a forward motion, he pushes his hips into yours, cock meeting mild resistance. His actions are disarmingly sluggish — you expected something feral and rough, but he does the opposite.

He’s groaning into your skin, planting kisses there when he isn’t making noise. A moan shakes your chest, drawn-out and wanton, a sound that’s sure to be embedded into his mind for days to come.

The position forces you to feel every inch of him, and he’s infuriatingly well-endowed. His cock kisses your walls, cunt clenching pathetically around him the further he goes, bodies now entangled.

“F—Fuck, John,” Slurred, you’re drunk on your own desire, brain fuzzy with static, mouth slack to make room for throaty moans. “God, you fe—feel so good, please!”

John’s voice tapers off into a husky moan, the praise driving him crazy, and it’s almost enough to get him under control. “Jesus, takin’ me so well.” He roughs, kissing just beneath your ear.

The tightness of your cunt drives him to the brink of madness, huffing beside your ear, teeth grazing over your jaw. He’s growling, panting, his sounds mirroring that of a feral dog instead of a man.

As he fully hilts inside of you, cock bottoming out, he squeezes at your hands, mouth flush to the nape of your neck. There’s a second to adjust, the both of you lost within the haze of ecstasy.

Drawing his hips back, cock halfway gone, he pushes back in — deep, sensual. There’s a significant lack of roughness, but he doesn’t do anything in half-measures.

“Feel s’good, perfect,” Through a string of needy whines, you try to push your hips back against him, but the prone position makes it difficult. The pressure of his body is grounding, dizzying. “You feel so good.”

It’s an incoherent mess of babbles that leave you, singing his praises, and he buckles. That validation and praise he craves from you brings him to heel, brows pinched together.

“Keep talking, honey.” John groans, kissing a messy, wet string of kisses over your shoulder, finding a rhythm that makes your head spin.

Each thrust of his hips sends him deep, cock nearly kissing your cervix. Each ripple of your cunt makes him shudder, the sensations nearly overwhelming — all-encompassing, consuming.

“You — Shit, you fuck me so well,” The words feel foreign in your mouth, but it barely registers, emerging as heated whines. It makes him growl into your shoulder, teeth gently biting at sensitive flesh. “John, please, please.”

John’s reply was another snap of his hips, cock pounding away at your aching cunt. Each thrust is passionate — he wants you to feel everything, feel what you do to him.

He’s fucking you as if it’s the last thing he’ll do, grunts resonating beside your ear, breath hot as it tickles the nape of your neck.

As good as it feels, you wish you were looking at him — the image is drenched in sin, the one you conjure up. Each moan that keens from your lips is answered with a roll of his hips, cock working you open, kissing your cunt.

Scarlet clings to John’s features, handsome and pink, jaw strained as if something might shatter. He’s grunting, warm baritone slipping off into a half-moan when your thighs clench together.

Each slap of his cock lewdly urges against your slick cunt, arousal thick and honeyed around him, making everything easier.

The pillow pushed beneath your hips lets you take the brunt of his thrusts, his groin grinding near your ass, bodies sticky with perspiration. He exudes heat like a furnace, making you sweat.

Ecstasy builds, twined around his muscles, constricting him in some blinding haze. “You’re mine,” The snarl he lets out sends shockwaves through your cunt. “My girl.”

John is naturally possessive, and when he lets his claim fly between messy kisses to your shoulder, it sends you into overdrive.

“M’yours,” Receptive, you feel him fuck into you again, pace still bordering between sensual and vigorous, cock hitting new depths. “Fuck, John — so good at this.”

Your wanton praise goes straight to his head, fueling that subservient side to him that hungers for your attention. It’s more than enough to inflate his pride, and he releases one of your hands.

Beside your head, one hand remains interlocked with his, the gesture disarmingly tender between lewd clashes of bodies. His palm slides over your shoulder, slow, caressing until he finds your waist.

His thumb traces circles into the silky skin there, ministrations never slowing — his pace remains unwavering.

John shudders at the feeling of your cunt, tight and warm around him, clenching around his cock with each roll of his hips. Pleasure mounts within him like a white-hot coil, burning through his belly.

You sob from the pleasure, ecstasy shooting through your body as if you’ve been struck by lightning, arousal seeping from your cunt.

It’s all flesh against flesh, accompanied by a cacophony of groans and whimpering, and you’re rutting into the pillow pushed beneath your hips.

The friction is stinging, lungs burning with each breath you take. “Keep going, please.” You sigh, delirious with desire, any shred of coherency surrendered to him.

John’s a good soldier — obedient, and he’s certainly not one to defy your command when he’s deep in your cunt. He’s rutting into you, passionate and needy, pleasure surging through his veins.

Muscles coil around you, and he’s caging you in between his body and the mattress, grunting when your cunt clenched around him.

His palm drags over your ribs, calloused flesh meeting your silky skin, and he’s head over heels. He can’t think straight anymore, logic thrown out the window, abandoned — you’re all he wants, all he sees as he thrusts again.

It’s a blissful rhythm, the best you’ve had, a constant rut of urging hips and a mouth that wanders over the juncture between throat and shoulder.

He bites softly, pulling a moan from your lips. “Christ, you’re perfect like this.” John gruffs, beard scratching ragged over your flesh, leaving you tingling all over.

He’s getting close, feeling the occasional spasm of your hips as you grind into the pillow, pushing against him as best as you can. You moan his name, again and again.

The pace of his thrusts seems to increase, jackhammering at your cunt when he’s pushed closer to the edge. You clench around him as if you’re sucking him in, and he’s enraptured.

It’s everything — it’s his mouth, teeth, body blanketing yours, hands intertwined, cock fucking you deep — you’re not going to last much longer like this.

“Close, m’close.” Panting, your diaphragm burns with labored breaths, muscles like jelly, body succumbing to his vigorous, sensual thrusts. Bliss festers within your belly, screaming.

Daring to lift your head, you decide to look — the sight is nothing short of mesmerizing, sinful.

Wisps of blonde hair stick to his temples, brow glittering with sweat, countenance contorted into an expression of sheer bliss. His jaw is locked, eyelids nearly shut, looking as if he’s just glimpsed the holy ghost.

Part of you wished you’d been treated to the picture of him all along, flushed and pink, handsome without a drop of effort. He’s even prettier when he’s fucking you hoarse, exertion poured into pounding away at your cunt.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” John rasps, throat thick with desire, coarse as he feels himself slipping over the edge. “Fuck, I can’t — Goddamn …” There isn’t any warning, but you don’t care in the slightest.

Every thrust is sharp, precise — he’s gritty, perspiration glittering along his neck, muscles pulled taut. John sucks a hickey into whatever flesh he can reach beside your jaw.

His cock pulses, throbbing incessantly inside of you as he snaps forward again, groaning beside your ear when he hits his peak.

It sets off a chain reaction — white-hot bliss, a buzz shaking your nerves, brain humming with static. Any coherent thought is promptly scrambled, tossed aside.

John’s forehead rests just behind your ear, hot breath curling over your throat, still hilted inside of you when he cums.

There’s something messy about it — reckless, incendiary, rapturous. He doesn’t pull out, fucking you full with his cum. Warmth floods your insides, crescendoing into your own release.

With another light grind against the pillow, friction grating right to your core, you moan, clutching onto his hand like a vice. Bitten by ecstasy, you feel like you’re floating, the coil within your stomach unfurling.

It’s as if you’ve been washed in fire, flesh feverish, the heat so intense you nearly collapse. He ruts through your shared release with sensual, sluggish rolls of his hips.

Ripples of bliss shoot through your veins even still, seeing stars through closed eyes, thighs quivering like leaves. John’s chest breaths ragged with each sigh, as if he’s exhaling fire, brows still furrowed together.

Entangled moans finally simmer down, tapering off into stinging huffs, exhales pushed through his nose. He presses a string of kisses over the back of your neck, to the top of your spine.

In the afterglow, it’s hushed — you’re catching your breath and so is he, feeling him stay inside of you for a few moments longer.

“You okay?” John murmurs, wondering if he’d pushed it too far. Roughened fingertips trace over your side, coming to affectionately squeeze your hip. “I didn’t take it too far, did I?” He asks, concerned.

Smiling to yourself, you’re flustered, feeling his cum and yours cool over your cunt, the ache diminishing into a dull pulsation. “No, no,” You soothe, feeling his mouth on your throat. “I’m really good.”

John nods, planting another kiss to your jaw before he reluctantly pulls out, leaving behind a mess of fluids that paint your inner thighs. The sensation is sticky, exceedingly wet.

He grunts, moving off of the bed to get you a towel — and new panties. The remnants of your undergarments are in scraps somewhere on the floor, you realize.

You lay there, razed, limbs feeling molten, as if the bone has turned to liquid. A pleasant buzz hums through your veins, breathing beginning to steady as you roll onto your side.

Framed by the golden glow emanating from the light above his headboard, he’s stunning — shadows accentuating raw muscle, body a canvas for yellowing bruises and fading scars.

Even afterwards, he’s exceptionally sweet, a natural caretaker as he brings you a towel and a pair of underwear you’d left in his room prior.

“Thanks.” You smile, awkwardly shuffling to clean yourself up a little bit, sliding on a dark, spandex pair of panties. Readjusting your shirt, you toss the towel into a dirty basket.

“You’re so beautiful.” John murmurs, retrieving his boxers, tugging them back on as he joins you in bed again, looping you into his side. His arm wraps around your hips, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

Smitten, you crawl closer, head nestling against his shoulder as your fingers trace over his chest. Hands intertwine somewhere over his heart, dog-tags hanging beside his collar.

“You’re cute like this,” You hum, and he scoffs instantaneously. “You are, John. You’re really sweet when you want to be.” He takes the compliment to-heart nonetheless.

Lips mold together, the kiss wonderfully tender, enough to make him melt beneath you. John savors it all, letting it linger, hand tracing the soft curve of your hip. “Cute, huh?” He utters, husky.

“Very.” Soft, your cadence quiets, leg hitched over his hips, anchored to his side, oozing with warmth. You keep the sheets off for now, letting him cradle you, hold you tight.

He laughs; a flash of pearlescent teeth, bleeding with a charm that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. “Don’t tell the rest of the team about this.” John grouses, feeling your lips smooth over his cheek.

“They already know, John.” You hum, feeling his body jostle with a huff as he caresses beneath your shirt, palm dragging along the small of your back.

John doesn’t seem perturbed; if anything, he’s happy — content, even. “Your fault.”

[chlerc]

rocky beginnings ; charles leclerc

pairing charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

he’s been collecting rocks from every country he travelled to just because you mentioned it once back in highschool but he never thought he’d actually gift it to you till this reunion.

word count 1144.

content pinning over that one girl from highschool and collecting rocks from every country he visited just because she mentioned it was her habit once. polaroid pictures of the beaches he visited and collected rocks from, notes written with his messy handwriting on the polaroids.

author’s note i forgot where this idea came from i'm not gonna lie, i swear it was a chinese drama but i forgot which and i thought it was cute...

THE ROOM WAS AWASH WITH a peculiar blend of nostalgia and tentative conviviality, the kind that only a high-school reunion could conjure. Fragments of laughter, some sincere, others tinged with a hint of uncertainty floated through the air, mingling with half-remembered stories and recollections of days long past. Charles lingered near the periphery, a glass of tepid punch clasped in one hand while the other nervously traced the edge of his jacket pocket. His gaze flitted around the room, moving from one face to another, searching for a singular visage — her visage.

Years had passed since they last spoke in earnest. They were mere acquaintances now, connected only by the fragile threads of social media, a few cursory comments on Instagram stories, an annual exchange of obligatory birthday wishes. But once, they had been inseparable deskmates bound by shared secrets, shared laughter and shared dreams scrawled in the margins of their textbooks. She had a peculiar habit; a habit of collecting rocks from every place she visited. It was a small thing, almost whimsical, but it was something he had never forgotten.

At last, he spotted her, standing by the old trophy case, the dim light casting a soft halo around her, making her appear almost ethereal. For a moment, he hesitated, feeling the weight of time and lost opportunities pressing down upon him. But then, as though compelled by an unseen force, he began to make his way through the throng, the container in his hand growing heavier with each step he took.

She noticed him before he reached her, her eyes widening in recognition, followed by a smile that had not changed in all those years. The same delicate curve that seemed to illuminate her entire face. It began softly at the corners of her lips, as it widened, her smile seemed to spill over, brightening her eyes until they sparkled with a warm, unspoken invitation. The fullness of her lips caught the light, the subtle dimples that appeared in her cheeks adding an almost childlike charm, a hint of playful innocence. The same smile that lingered long after it faded, the same smile he never forgot. “Charles!” She greeted, her voice carrying a blend of surprise and something gentler, something like familiarity tinged with warmth. “Hello,” he replied, striving for a nonchalance that belied the quickening of his heartbeat. “It’s been quite some time.”

They exchanged the customary pleasantries; the polite inquiries about life, careers, and family. Yet, all the while, Charles was acutely aware of the container in his hand, a silent testament to years of quiet devotion. As the conversation began to wane, he gathered his courage and took a steadying breath. “I, uh, I brought something for you.” He mumbled, his voice catching slightly. He extended the container towards her, his hand trembling ever so slightly. It was a simple plastic vessel, but its contents were far from ordinary — they were the culmination of years spent thinking of her.

She looked at it, curiosity knitting her brows together. “What is this?” She questioned, accepting the container from him with a gentle touch. “Rocks,” he stated painfully obviously, almost bashful. “I remembered how you used to collect them from every place you visited. So, I started collecting them for you. Every time I travelled to a new country for the F1 season or for the holidays, I made a point of finding a beach and picking up a rock.” Her eyes widened further, her gaze moving from the container to his face and back again, a look of astonishment mingled with something else, something like wonder. “You did that? All this time?” Her voice meek like she couldn’t believe someone would’ve done that for her.

He nodded, a flush creeping up his neck. “Yes, and there’s more. I used the Polaroid camera you gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I captured a photograph of the sea in every country I visited and I wrote the date and the location on each one, in my usual messy handwriting.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bundle of polaroids, bound together with a fraying rubber band. He handed them to her, his heart thundering in his chest.

She took the photographs, her fingers brushing lightly against his, sending a spark of electricity up his arm. She leafed through them slowly, her eyes tracing the images — the endless, varied blues of oceans from around the world. She saw the dates and the names, scrawled in his familiar handwriting, each one a small, personal testament to his enduring thoughtfulness. Her eyes glistened, her smile deepening with each photograph she examined.

“Charles, I… I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “This is… extraordinary. Thank you.” He shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant, though his pulse was racing. “I just thought you might appreciate them. I remembered how much you loved collecting them, and I hoped… I hoped you still did.” She looked up at him, her eyes meeting him with an intensity that was almost disarming. For a long moment, they simply stood there, suspended in a silence that was laden with all the words left unsaid over the years — all the missed chances and unspoken sentiments. Yet in that silence, there was also a flicker of something new, a glimmer of possibility, a chance for renewal, for rekindling what had been lost.

“You always were the thoughtful one,” she said softly, her smile tinged with nostalgia. “I still collect them, you know. I never stopped.” He chuckled softly, relief flooding through him like a warm wave. “I’m glad, I was hoping that was still the case.” For a moment, they stood together in that small pocket of space by the trophy case, the rest of the reunion swirling around them like a distant, blurred backdrop. It was as if time itself had slowed, giving them a precious few moments to reconnect, to rediscover the connection that had once bound them so closely.

“I’ve missed you,” she confessed at last, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, the words flowing more easily than he had expected. “More than I can put into words.” They shared a smile — a new smile, one that spoke of second chances and the faintest hope of rekindling something once thought lost. As the evening wore on, they found themselves engrossed in conversation, reminiscing about the past, laughing over old memories, and uncovering how much they still shared in common.

And as they talked, the container of rocks and the stack of Polaroids sat beside them — a tangible reminder of time passed, and perhaps, a bridge to a future that was now just a bit more luminous, a bit more promising, with the prospect of a renewed friendship or perhaps something more — beckoning on the horizon.

[enihk-writes]

Can I suggest a she fell first he fell harder with Chung Myung

[when he sees me]

pairing: chung myung x f!reader

summary: he'd always known that she liked him, he just never knew he did too.

═══════════════

longing gazes weren't meant to go on for long, it was a movent of artistry in itself. to watch someone when their back is turned and to then turn away when just before they look back. it's like a dance, a push and a pull like waves coming in at high tide.

she thinks she might have looked at his back enough times to have his visage imprinted in her mind's eye. she loved all beauty that walked on this earth — he wasn't that much of an exception. at first, at least.

she liked how long and thick his hair was, and oh, she wished she could run her hands through it. when they were younger, their white uniform made him look rather cute. now, in their black uniform, she thinks he's grown into a dashing young man. his features developed beautifully over the years too, and she couldn't help but take notes on it. from his strong brow that turned up into a sharp point at the ends, to the slope of his nose and the fullness of his lips —

covering her heated face in realisation, she slinked down to the floor with her knees to her chest.

oh no. she was in love with chung myung.

═══════════════

he can see her from the corner of his eye looking at him, her trying to be discreet didn't work at all — he should've felt a little uncomfortable then, but somehow he didn't mind her staring.

it didn't take him long to put two and two together and figure out how she felt about him.

how could he not? when he sees her, she ducks right out of view with her shoulders raised — something she tended to do when she got bashful, just one of her habits he'd noticed.

or that time he turned back to see her still in her daze and in her little daydreams, her eyes filled with a silent, quiet flame of adoration.

at some point he'd begun to stare at her too. he appreciated how she always wore her heart on her sleeve — if she was happy, her eyes would crinkle up at the corners. if she was disappointed, her gaze would turn downwards as her hands play with the loose threads of her clothes. if she was confused, her eyes widened. he'd know she was upset and angry if there were tears gathering at the outer corners of her eyes.

he felt his insides twitch a little. nervousness? no, that's not it. well, it's not serious, so he'll think more about it next time.

═══════════════

she was a very careless girl, someone who was in her own little world up in the clouds most of the time. while he was a rather careful man, who always seemed to see too much, or know too much. and that was all the opportunity certain schemers hanging around them needed.

they should have known it wasn't a coincidence, when the door to the study room locked by itself as she came in to deliver paperwork to him.

they should have known it wasn't a coincidence, that they were both paired up in the sect duty roster pretty often.

they should have known it wasn't a coincidence, especially when the head of the medical hall or tang soso were sometimes too busy and had her come and patch him up on their behalf.

the awkward small talk slowly became casual conversations that would end in comfortable silence as the two stayed next to each other. he couldn't have known then that it would plant small seeds in his heart that took years to grow into vines that wrapped around and tugged down tightly whenever he was with her.

═══════════════

it all clicked together in the middle of one summer's night — chung myung sat up in his bed, hands grabbing at his hair and practically ripping them off it's roots. how could he have been so slow? how could he have been so stupid?

you are actually.

no i'm not! he snapped back at the sarcastic voice of his sa-hyung in his head.

it was funny how the metaphorical final piece of the puzzle was that damn namguang kid. he really thought he was so slick when he stole glances at her, huh?

stop being so jealous when you can't even admit to your own feelings.

his head dropped back as he stared off into the darkness, uncharacteristically quiet.

the guy was right. it was embarrassing how he'd always known but could never come to terms with his own heart. how he would freeze up for just a second each time she was close, how his hands felt like they were on pins and needles each time his knuckles would ghost over her side. he should've known then.

damn it. he liked her. he really loved her too.

he could only hope that it wasn't too late for him yet, that he caught up to her years of longing after him. tomorrow, first thing, he was going to make the first move. there was no way he was going to let that adoring gaze fall onto anyone else.

tomorrow.... tomorrow... and the days after that... what should they do together? chung myung feels himself drifting off to sleep with a snall smile on his face — giddy with childish delight over the thoughts of the first love of his second life.

[juricel]

a/n: a request but i may or may not have accidentally posted the draft and deleted it in panic, im so sorry to the original requester if you see this, please correct me if i'm wrong with something! I didn't properly memorize the phrasing of the ask.

original ask: "may i request yan!shadow milk cookie with an immortal!f/o who keeps dying to him but the more they die they grow resilient and fight back?"

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x immortal! reader hcs

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, mild gore, murder, body horror, heavy obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, body horror, emotional abuse, physical abuse, violence, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied mindbreak, potential ooc.

𖦁‎ shadow milk cookie adores every single part of you; your face, your personality, your appearance, your voice, your habits, everything—but oh, one thing that he loves about you most is when you are dead inside, aching, petrified, and falling apart.

𖦁‎ he doesn't mean to be cruel, really! it was meant to be a silly little experiment, a test of your immortality upon learning you were unable to die out of pure curiosity. However, when he crumbled you, his sweet dear, apart, oh he witnessed true beauty; you were a sight beyond manevolent, a bewitching visage, a pulchritudinously splendous piece of art. he, knelt in a puddle of hot, sweet blood, aching smile pitted against aching smile, caress your ichor-stained skin oh so gently, smudging the crimson over your now turning pale flesh—you were ravishing, organs lay splayed, tears prickling through the corner of eyes, red branching out across the sclera of your eyes, bloodied, bruised, and beneath /his/ mercy... ah, it was the illustrious form of beauty. he doesn't mean to get addicted, but oh, the sight of you... slope of stomach inwards, hip bones protruding through thin skin unnaturally, diaphragm and ribs sticking sickenly, and each bone present like a mountain range on the plateau of your pectorals; the way your scars turn beautiful, thrumming pink, and fade dark into a luscious shade of near-blue when cold; the vibrancy of your blood as it trickles down your tainted flesh... he just couldn't get enough of it! the more he thought of it, the more he got giddy.

𖦁‎ surely, you wouldn't mind him trying it out once more, don't you? it's not like you have a choice regardless! not when you're tied up and confined within his clutches. with a hand caressing your cheeks, he whispers sweet nothings, thumb stroking the contour of your cheekbones as he digs in his nails into the rake of your skin; cutting, mangling, butchering, dismembering, and lacerating your body as if it were a doll made to be withered—mutilating until what remains were cadaver. oh, you were just beyond adorable, weren't you? how can he not be a little mean to you when you were so endearing like this? the sight of you like this overwhelms him with desire, oh, how he craved to tear you apart, to bite and scratch your neck until leisons form and crimson seeps, to claw his way through your dermis until you scream in agony, blood staining his fingertips; a sight only he, himeslf could witness and he would make sure of that.

𖦁‎ he promises to be kind, to be gentle as he bashes your legs in, but he just couldn't help it! oh, but it's fine, isn't it? it's not like you were gonna crumble away from it all eternally! so he doesn't understand. why must you rebel against him? can't you see that he was doing this in an overwhelming exasperation of love for you? or was it because it was painful? oh, no it wasn't! you're just overreacting. it doesn't hurt. don't get him mistaken! he adores watching you struggle, takes fulfillment seeing you defiant even but when you manage to escape his grasp? oh, that is when his anger escalates.

𖦁 he's sorry, so so sorry! really, he's sorry, he won't kill you anymore, he promises! just don't leave from his sight ever again, in soft murmurs and thinly veiled bitter words he would whisper, tracing his bloodied fingers against the curve of your jaw, kissing away your vulgar defiance as he holds your body as stiff as a clay, unmoving and unresponsive, eyes unfocused.

a/n: not quite proud of this one, i hope it's fine, however! i do think this one is much more darker than my previous work but then again, it's a yandere work so it's probably alright.

[b1rds3ye]

hi!! this is my first time doing a request so idk if I'm doing this right haha but uh, I was wondering if you could do like. yknow the masked one you made for the 141 (I can't remember the name rn💔)? I thought of like, a sequel idea. like, what if during combat an enemy manages to take reader's mask, and so reader panics and like, rips the enemies throat out with their teeth (or if that's too violent, just goes basically rabid on them lmao) and how they would react?? if this is too violent or specific dw you don't have to!! anyways, I love your content it's totally awesome ur writing is amazing! have a good day!!

YES I LOVE THE BADASSERY AND THE UNHINGEDNESS!! If I'm your first request I'm so flattered anon pls do feel free to drop by again <333 Also just going to do general rabidness because ngl the throat thing sounds like an infection speedrun and we want our masked reader to stay nice and healthy <333

Word Count: 1.2 (it got a little long WHOOPS)

Warning: Canon typical violence, reader does get a lil sadistic and unhinged <333

Beyond Task Force 141 and Laswell, many - if not all - allied soldiers wondered about what lay under your mask. Obscuring even the eyes, your visage was more unreadable than Ghost's. Larger than life, a soldier among men.

There was a running joke that there was just nothing under your mask, perhaps an eldritch horror of sorts. You let the new recruits entertain the thought, it kept morale up as they conjured more myths of you. They said that no one has seen you without your mask. They were partially right.

It simply was that no one lived to tell the tale.

You were never one for close combat, but fighting terrorists was never smooth sailing. The chaos of battle had all of the 141 separated against the tight streets of Las Almas. How uncanny that you could not see your allies but hear their gunfire. Running out of ammo, you couldn't lament at your misfortune as a shoulder pummeling into your chest, sending you to the ground and the air out of your lungs. Head bashing against the floor you groaned as you furiously clawed up to whatever heavy weight was crushing your body. You were starting to make up the figure of a man hovering over you through the blurry haze of a concussion that filled your sight. The distant static of Price's voice through the radio, probably asking where the hell were you but you had more pressing issues at hand.

Through your struggle and flailing limbs you managed to wring the enemy's pistol off of them with a painful twist of their wrist. And they retaliated tenfold, a large sweaty hand reaching down and pressing your head back against the ground. Your adrenaline makes you writhe further, he was going to suffocate you, or worse, poison you with how fucking awful his hand smelt as the stink of burning gunpowder replaced any of your oxygen. But no, he committed a far worse crime.

A singular pull and the grating tear of fabric as your mask is pulled off of your face.

A heavy moment where your enemy looks down at you and his gaze is not like before. It's clear, it's deep. It is not looking at your facade but at you and you are no longer a soldier. You are merely a human, so fragile, so weak. One that is on the verge of death in a foreign land surrounded by bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike. One whose mythos is all but lost at the victorious and leering smirk of an enemy as they take in your face.

That simply won't do.

Pulling your knee up to create space between you and the man, you pull out your tactical knife from your waist and drive it into his torso. His smile falls only to land at settle on yours below him, just like his blood that trickles as forbidden crimson down your hands and seeps into your uniform. It's disgustingly warm. He grows heavier as he loses all control over his body and you heave to throw his figure off to the side. You stab him once again for good measure. And then again. And again. Quick, short jabs down with a sharpened blade that cuts through uniform, flesh and bone alike. You did not count how many times you drove your blade down, numbers were too complex when your mind was running faster than any comprehensible speed. There was only one goal. To make sure no one knows what happened.

A harsh grip on the shoulder yanks you back up and you swipe with your armed limb to cut your new assailant's neck but they were onto you. Catching your arm, they pull it up as they hold onto your shoulder once again with a tightening grip that digs into your uniform. But they do nothing more, no matter how much you thrash and kick.

"Wake up, Sergeant," your opponent seethes and that voice makes you still, a buoy that floats across through your rage. Deep and grounding and your captain's.

You nearly stumble back but Price catches you before you crumple to the ground in exhaustion. The adrenaline was escaping your body leaving you with barely the energy to stay upright. Your head lolls back for a second before you bring it to the side to look at your direct superior, the remnants of a concussion making your vision blurry.

"You broken?" he asks.

"Negative, sir,” you respond immediately but he looks a little doubtful, a singular eyebrow raised as he inspects you. Not your body, but your face. The dilated pupils and the taut muscles told more than any wound.

"Can't say the same about your wee friend over there," Soap whistles as he tilts his head to behind you. “Christ, you did a number on him.”

You dare turn to look over your shoulder but Ghost already situated himself in front of the body. But between his feet you could already make out the indistinguishable mass of tattered fabric and discoloured flesh. Fresh blood filled the rivets between the cobblestones, the remnants of the body inching its way closer to you-

"Was it the mask?" Simon brings your attention back to him. You nod dumbly. He only dips his head in what you can only describe as understanding as he folds his arms, fortifying his stance in front of the mess you made. You weren’t going to see your handiwork, he was too kind to ever let you.

John drops his hands down to his sides as Gaz approaches you with your mask.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Kyle offers you a sympathetic smile.

"Learnt that the first day I saw 'em on duty," Johnny retorts and you instinctively smile as you take your mask from Kyle. The hardened plaster of your mask had cracked, the fabric that hugged your neck had become torn but it'll do for the remainder of the mission. Slipping the mask back on, Simon offers a nod of approval while Johnny tugged at the fabric for a few finishing touches.

Ultimately the mission was successful. The task force returns to base and although none of the boys mentioned the carnage you left, there are still whispers of it on base. You had hurried to debrief and get your mask fixed but it seemed some privates caught sight of you and that was enough to spark rumours. Your mask had gotten so fractured that a shard was left back in the streets of Las Almas and revealed one of your eyes to the rest of the world. Such a small organ but so vivid. The privates saw, and more was added to the myth that was you. There was now no question about what was under the mask. No lovecraftian horror or empty space, no monster beyond comprehension. No, what was under your mask was terrifyingly human.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[dollwrites]

ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ sᴇssɪᴏɴs ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʀᴜɪ ᴋᴀᴍɪsʜɪʀᴏ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!fan!reader, sex work / camming, cyber sex, masturbation ( him! ), lots of dirty talk, cum shot. all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act three [ camboy ]

“There’s no need to be shy, sweetling.” Rui coos. thankfully, the wifi connection is stable, and so his lilting, sugary tone isn’t robotic and unpleasant. “You can play along if you’d like.” his voice is hardly above a whisper, strained ever so slightly to keep from jumbling up his words amidst him pleasuring himself for you. sitting flat on the floor with his knees spread wide, there’s only a couple of key garments left on his body. a purple tie, neatly the same hue as his hair, that hangs loosely from his neck. when he gets close, he’ll often wrap it around his hand and tighten it, but for the moment it sags against his bare torso. his abdomen and lower half is littered with lipstick markings, some of which spell out your name in pinky lettering that’s begun to smudge the more he sweats. only one glove remains, the other discarded amongst the pile of his clothes just off camera. “After all, this is all for you.” he emphasizes the word all by allowing his gloved hand to glide down the length of his cock, and grab it at the base. gathering his balls, too, up in a package of offering, he gives the twitching organ and squeezed sack a little shake at the camera, a dusky blush dusting his cheeks as his lips curl up in a fox’s grin.

Rui always made you feel wanted. important. beautiful.

did it really matter that you paid for the privilege? a premium, even, to have these private sessions. you didn’t think so.

your cheeks are on fire, embarrassed to be watching such a display, even though you were alone in your apartment. you had paid for this show, but you still felt like you were breaking some kind of rule. maybe it was because you had no real life experience in sex, but that didn’t mean that your favorite toys didn’t get their fair share of use while you watched Rui’s streams. still, being in this moment with him alone, you noticed you were being bashful. your webcam was on, broadcasting the visage of you to him, but you were hugging a pillow, trying not to nibble on it to keep from screaming out loud when you can tell he’s looking at you. “Really…?” you whisper, toying with the pillow’s tag.

Rui giggles softly, golden eyes roving over the screen, before he gave a little nod, his bare hand moving to stroke his cock. a soft exhale, and he leans back against the wall. “But of course. Come now, show me what you’re hiding under those cute pjs.” his tempo has slowed quite a bit— and Rui lazily pumps at his dick, eyes heavily lidded, as if he were trying to stave off any pleasure right until he was ready for it. you couldn’t help but want to show off for him when he looked at you like that, blushing and all, so you sat up on your bed. allowing the pillow to fall by the wayside, you sheepishly slip your fingers beneath the spaghetti strap on one shoulder, shimmying it down until the neckline droops and reveals one of your mounds. Rui’s eyes seem to sparkle with interest, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows back saliva. “That’s it, pretty little thing…” the way he looked so sordid and lustful whilst staring at you like that made your hands shake an awful lot— an obvious tremble that he must’ve chose not to comment on to keep your timidity at bay. “Show me some more.”

if you’d not been gagged by your own sheepish nature, you might’ve asked him who here is supposed to be putting on a show for whom. but, in this moment, your brain was short circuiting, and you were simply following directions, like a little puppet whose strings he had taut in his fingers. you push the top all the way down around your waist, baring both breasts. watching him jerk off had left your nipples hard, and the coolness of the air hitting them only tightens them further. “You look so soft,” Rui moans, and his gloved hand slides underneath his thigh to adjust his position, his eyes focused on your tits on the screen. “I bet you’d make some cute sounds if I punched those pretty nipples, wouldn’t you? You’d whine and squirm for me.”

your eyelids nearly flutter as the fantasy of having Rui within arm’s reach invades your psyche. imagining his svelte hands all over you. groping. squeezing. feeling. you shudder, and your panties dampen even further.

Rui catches a glimpse of that reaction, and his simper widens. “Look how precious you are, getting so flustered. Is your little cunny wet for me, sweetling?” you have no choice but to nod, shifting on your knees to rub your thighs together in order to form some sort of friction to ease your throbbing sex. “Take off your panties,” it wasn’t a demand, not from his sweet lips. it was more of a plea, the rhythm at which his cock barrels through his spit-slicked hand picking up. his breath was starting to come in heavier puffs, ripples forming through the meat of his thighs as they try not to shake. “I want to see how a pretty pussy drools for me.”

you’re moving before he’s even finished talking, sliding back to sit on your butt on the bed, your position matching his as you pull your panties down and spread your legs open. there’s a pit gnawing in your stomach, but your first two fingers reach down to open your netherlips, exposing your twitching, weeping hole. Rui’s breath catches when he sees all of you, and the sticky, shiny mess you’ve left on your thighs. for a moment, his back arches off the wall, and he lets out a low moan, his golden eyes focused only on your sex. “That’s a sweet, little honeypot, no? So tight and warm, uh…” Rui elicits another slow, drawn out moan, pumping himself faster and more fervently. “I’m so hard, sweetling.” Rui confesses with a husky chuckle, squeezing the swollen shaft before he thumbs his pink tip. “I want to feel your soft, warm pussy stretch around me as I push my cock into you, hear you gasp when you’re full, ahh—“ Rui can’t help but giggle again, but it’s more of a garbled mess this time. his bare feet that had previously been flat on the floor now rub on their sides, his toes curling and half obstructing the camera as he starts to pant and drop his head back against the wall, losing himself in his own, desperate fucking his hand. “— Rub your tender clit when I make you my perfect, wet little cocksleeve. Yes, yes, yes…!”

“I want to feel your cock in me, Rui—!” you stammer, overcome with excitement just from watching him. your entire body tingled, and you wanted so badly to touch yourself, but you were so distracted by his tells. the way his toes curled, and his hips bucked forward to meet his eager jerking, and his amber eyes rolling around behind his lids. you knew he had to be close. and right now, the only thing that mattered was seeing him cum for you. “I want to be fucked, like your good, little sleeve! Please, cum, Rui. Please, I want it so bad.”

you didn’t have to ask twice.

Rui erupts with a breathless whine, his body writhing off the wall and floor, as if he were trying to escape the intense sensation of his orgasm, before hot, white streamers of his release splatter the floor between his quaking legs, leaving a sticky puddle. your eyes flit to it, wishing you’d be there to clean up the mess with your tongue, and taste him. Rui pants and ruts, milking his twitching cock, squeezing until the last of his spunk oozes down his shaft, frosting his hand and his balls underneath. several moments pass where you just simply stare at the display, even after he’s let go, and his soft cock, still gleaming and painted white, lay across his thigh, and you listen to his breathing start to slow down.

with your sheepish nature returning, you grab the pillow, hugging it again with a shy smile, covering your naked body. “Thank you for calling with me… again…” you offer, nibbling on your lip.

but Rui is smiling. it’s a breathless, exhausted smile, as he pushes himself back into a sitting position, leaning close to the webcam. “You’re very welcome, sweetling. Same time next week?”

on pay day, of course.

[malleleothreesome]

Dancing with Malleus

✨ summary: Malleus invites you to the Briar Valley ball ༶༶༶ ✨ warnings: gender neutral reader, immortal Malleus, romance, SFW, I ain't gonna spoil this one for ya ༶༶༶ ✨ word count: 2.9k words ༶༶༶ ✨ song: Once Upon A Dream - Lana Del Rey "You'll love me at once... the way you did once upon a dream"

The castle's ballroom is exquisite and grand, with high arched windows that open out into a massive and impressive courtyard. Inundated with golden light, the whole room is sparking in ethereal shimmer and the aroma of crisp floral accents fill the room. From the high vaulted ceilings, chandeliers the size of trees glitter with a plethora of colorful gems, catching the light of magical, flickering flames like stardust. Couples twirl and weave around each other in fluid steps, like a choreographed waltz of swaying and swirling movements. An orchestra of beautiful instruments blend together in a soaring melody as the dancing continues in harmonious orchestration. A faint mist seems to cover the floor, glittering opalescent in the fading daylight, which gives the scene the surreal quality of a dream or fairytale. The ball is attended only by the most exotic mystical creatures and beings of magic, clad in jewels and other luxury wares. Fae of varying shapes, colors, and sizes, waltz together and converse in tight circles, but you couldn't possibly hope to learn their language or names, nor are you important enough to be greeted. You don't belong here amongst the unparalleled beauty of the resplendent folk who grace these halls—celestially carved beings whose mere existence was meant to mesmerize you and your fellow humans, yet Malleus had insisted that you become his plus-one. Despite your fears that you might embarrass yourself due to your utter inexperience at anything remotely resembling courtly dancing, you're inexplicably enamored by his stubborn determination to allow no argument or negotiation on the matter. So now, you find yourself clad in flowing silk that glows like it was created by stars themselves and bejeweled with all manners of beautiful and precious accouterments. With such extravagant adornments and attire, no one would be able to tell you are not of royal blood. Before you become completely subsumed in the buzzing magnificence of the ball, the finest details of your elegant surroundings become blurry.

Suddenly, there is only him.

Your eyes cannot help but alight upon his noble beauty, and for a moment, the entire crowd parts. The Prince of the Valley of Thorns floats through the room, the air around him parting. As his silky hair streams behind him like water, his beauty causes the room to gasp audibly, yet he hardly notices. Only focused on his true intentions, Malleus seems to drift effortlessly through his own subjects, his sharp features devoid of their normal grim severity, eyes sparkling with tender warmth as he fixates solely on you. Every step he takes exudes power and confidence, yet remains graceful and smooth, as he saunters his way to where you stand and outstretches his gloved hand. In an instant, a murmur arises among the guests—every single one of them captivated by the effortless charm and debonair allure the future King possesses. Seeing your bashfulness, he delicately pulls your smaller hand into his before brushing your knuckles with a sweet kiss, a broad, fangy smile illuminating his entire visage.

"Do not be nervous," he soothes you. His slender fingertips gingerly grip yours, raising your entangled palms to rest shoulder-height, and placing his other hand on your lower back, right at the junction of your waist—so carefully, it makes your heart beat a little faster. Despite his inhuman strength, Malleus holds onto you gently, not wanting to bruise you from his crushing grasp. And then, the room around you suddenly fades away—the hundreds of pairs of eyes on you fade to black, the delicate melodies fade to white, the sheer magnitude of magic and splendor falls away and you see only the verdant of his irises, glittering emeralds as bright and eternal as the crystals sparkling around you. The corners of his eyes crinkle just a bit, betraying an emotion he's rarely so candid with outside the sanctum of your relationship. His next words, a dreamy whisper of reassurance, cause butterflies to flutter through your stomach and the hot flush of your cheeks to flood over you.

"Just let me lead and I will bring you to paradise."

Those are his only words as the slow waltz of the orchestra starts, beginning the dance that will set you two into a careful and synchronous flow with each other. Your feet move effortlessly with him, never straying even as he picks up the pace, the momentum between the two of you increasing. You feel him cradle the curve of your body close to him, holding you in the nook of his arm as he deftly twirls you through the night's revels. Malleus expertly keeps pace with the orchestra, all while also maintaining the beat of his heart, which matches the rhythm of his footsteps. As he glides with a masterful ease around the room, every movement controlled and precise, the image you two paint in motion together is nothing short of flawless. There isn't a hitch or misstep in your movement, the two of you completely in sync with the beat, every turn and twist of the music matching each step of your waltz, as he leads you in complete command. His eyes never leave yours, only looking away to catch the flash of one of his deft maneuvers of your body. Time slows and you find yourself completely lost in the wonder as you gaze lovingly into the brilliant, viridescent pools of his irises—his gaze penetrates and drowns you in a wash of endearment, drinking in your visage with unrestrained emotion. It's intoxicating and dizzying, yet you're powerless to break away. As far as you're concerned, the other couples have completely disappeared, lost to the blur of the distance, and it is as though you're dancing to music that exists in a realm outside of the material world. Everything else pales in comparison to this ethereal fairytale—Malleus looks handsome beyond reason in his opulent uniform. The cut of the dark fabric seems to enhance the elegant definition of his strong shoulders and the perfect symmetry of his regal face, yet the lush tailoring highlights his muscular physique and the toned strength that hides under the gorgeous facade. His very essence, the ambiance he exudes, the captivating aura—it all acts as an enchantment of pure spellbound desire, beckoning for you to cast yourself into its endless depth, surrendering yourself entirely to him.

Every step, every sway, every twirl of your dance together is more surreal than the last. This fairy tale is unfolding right before your eyes and all you can do is feel your soul resonate with him. It's in the way your arms circle his body; it's in the way your breathing begins to match pace with his; it's in the way he sets your head spinning and fills your heart with an aching need to be closer. In a secluded corner of the dance floor, away from all the curious eyes, the waltz continues—a beautiful duet of your hearts connecting deeper with every step and spin, as if the magic is attempting to wrench your souls together, desperate to mingle them until they're indistinguishable. He cradles you in his embrace, holding your body against his. From the elegant swoop of his scale-covered forehead, to the sharp, sexy slope of his jawline, his handsome profile is aglow with radiant adoration as he stares down at you with half-lidded, smitten eyes, his cheekbones shadowed perfectly under the romantic light of the ballroom, giving him an ineffable mystique. You stare back at him, searching deep into the blackness of his slitted pupils until your heart aches as your mind rushes with so many unspeakable emotions that threaten to make tears well in the corner of your eyes. In that moment, your love for him burns brighter than the sun and is more potent than anything you have ever known. At last, he closes his eyes in contentment and sweeps you away, a dreamlike smile upon his lips as he spins you across the smooth ballroom floors, grasping onto you as though you are his only lifeline in the universe. Malleus moves as though in a dream, never faltering as he leads your soul into a euphoria you never thought possible, a state where words hold little meaning but the act of dancing could express everything. As he moves the two of you elegantly across the expansive floor, the ephemerality of your mortal existence burns starkly clear in your mind, while his ancient heart thrums within his chest—countless years of melancholy and loneliness he endured seem to give weight to every ponderous beat of his heart, resonating through his chest, enveloping you and shrouding you in the desperate urgency of his adoration for you. Even without uttering any confessions, his heart speaks them to you fluently—you and him are tied so intimately together, an unbreakable knot that holds the threads of your destinies and fate together in a weave too precious and fine to be cut or broken. His fingertips ghost along your neck, the gentle sensation setting your soul on fire, sending electric currents down to the very tips of your fingers and toes, as a powerful shudder rips through your body.

"Wherever I am, you belong by my side," Malleus tells you. His tone is soft, but filled with enough reverence to make your breath catch. He peers at you with uncharacteristic vulnerability, the mere existence of it is practically intoxicating, and he watches your reactions to him with wide and captivating eyes that give off the intensity of a solar eclipse.

"It was fated by the heavens. Our paths were always intertwined," his voice is just a tad unsteady, yet it resonates with his entire being.

For a moment, all the whispers that echo from the watching crowd silence—the buzz, the snippets of gossip about your relationship with the notorious prince—is as quiet and as inconsequential as a background tune to your dance. All those things were meaningless—their cruel whispers and jealous words, their apprehension and disapproval meant absolutely nothing. That momentary stillness grants you both a moment of solace; the very few seconds your lives needed for him to offer himself to you. A confession so pure it lifts the hair on the back of your neck: "I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on you. No one could possibly make my heart beat so wildly or ignite such fierce emotions as you do."

His words are just like the tempo of the violins that fill the chamber. Infinite. Mesmerizing. Their echoing sound lengthens into infinity, in their beautiful patterns, the bow caresses the strings and produces such an achingly sublime melody. They pierce through all the tension in the air and carry a stirring urgency along with them as they flow seamlessly with your bodies in sync. Every note perfectly transitions into the next, and the song swells to a climatic, fervid harmony that cannot be resisted. You want him with all the burning hunger and depth of a cosmic soul—for every molecule that composes you calls out to him and wants to interweave his being with your own, so that neither one can ever exist without the other. His form is graceful as you two blend into each other and the song in a divine synergy. Time stretches as the rapturous intensity of his longing is displayed on his face. As you look into his eyes, the entire expanse of his vast, magnificent soul is bared to you. No mortal has ever had the privilege to see him so honestly and fully exposed, yet Malleus gives you his everything—he's always been his whole self in your embrace. He holds you close, cradling your frame to him protectively, and the faint tremble of his grip reveals the depths of his emotional fragility as the passion of his love overwhelms him and renders him helplessly bare before you, like a servant devoted to the altar of an awe-inspiring, glorious God.

Suddenly, all those intense sensations coalesce into the single most beautiful sentiment of all, as the sum of these wonderful emotions create a glorious aria that rouses all the seraphic adoration and longing, and an emotional overdrive within him. With the sum of his desires and emotions pouring out of him in waves, Malleus opens his lips to pour forth his most secret and profound wish and what comes out next, the words barely a hushed murmur above the swelling musical climax, is an admission of raw love. "I wish to spend my eternal lifetime with you by my side. I long to spend it loving only you and I want us to grow together through the centuries as partners." His words, sincere, sentimental, and laced with the faintest traces of tears, are raw in their unapologetic declaration, and they contain within them a depth of devotion you didn't think possible for a soul to ever harbor.

His lip quivers, his eyes begin to shine, and he squeezes them shut just as the first tears begin to flow, spilling over the waterline of his closed eyelids and dripping down his high cheekbones. Tapered fingers firmly intertwine yours and he desperately gazes at Lilia, whose red eyes sparkle in a proud mist as he looks on, giving Malleus an encouraging nod. Finally, the dam is broken—the smile that cracks at the corners of Malleus' mouth blooms, causing his already dazzling complexion to gleam and become impossibly more breathtaking as a sweet, ecstatic sob bubbles out of his lungs. Tears of joy roll down his cheeks as a wide grin takes up half his face, the verdant color of his irises shimmering brilliantly through a crystalline veil of sparkling tears. Thanks to the confidence and encouragement Lilia—his Father—has instilled in him, he finally feels ready to face his destiny, and take you alongside him as an equal. He clears his throat.

"I understand you are a human of little power, a short-lived creature whose days will fleet and wane like that of a candle before a blizzard," his voice is somewhat hesitant, faltering a tad as his anxieties manifest, his vocal chords shivering as he stumbles over his own emotion. His free hand finds its way to clutch the front of his attire, as though the mere mention of you near death makes his heart seize in his chest. His lips form a pout, brow creasing deeply as his breath shakes while you clutch his cheek, a thumb smoothing over his cheekbone, collecting his tears. Then, Malleus steels his features as he delivers his ultimatum. When his beautiful, soulful gaze finds you, there's an immovable determination and steadfastness that betray the fact that he's already made the choice, and your presence at his side is inevitable. "Therefore, in order to make our union possible and feasible, I spent countless hours researching every ancient text and scroll to seek a loophole, to bend the fates and twist their strings around my fingers." His lips curl to the side and his eyebrows raise ever so subtly, an adorable hint of pride shining in the smile he wears. "At last, my labor produced a solution. It is possible through an ancient rite to bind my soul to a chosen mortal partner."

Your heart speeds as a burst of joy courses through your veins like fire. The crescendo of the orchestra and his musical words are building to a harmonious convergence, a swelling refrain of the melodies both your lives have played, culminating in a resplendent final verse, a foreordained tune of two halves at last being joined. It's almost too much for you to take; the very walls of this beautiful, mystical room threaten to melt away and fade from your awareness, and all you can comprehend is his stunning, baritone voice. "If you accept my blessing, your lifespan will be linked to mine for as long as I walk the realm of the living.” Malleus tells you, a tad smug at the work he has done on your behalf. “All I ask in return for giving you eternal beauty, granting you my protection, and offering you my whole life is that we come to be as one. Two souls permanently linked and intertwined for the eternity of our existence together. You will forever share my immortality and accompany me as we walk among the stars until they eventually go out. And even in the wake of that devastating eventuality, I promise to care for you, tend to you, and love you for however many eras remain. Please be my betrothed, my beloved child of man, for I cannot bear to let you go and there is no force that can tear me away from you."

He squeezes your hand before dropping to one knee. In the center of the expansive room, surrounded by hundreds of guests, his emerald orbs peer up at you through heavy lashes as his lips begin to part, finally ready to ask the one question that may finally put an end to the solitude he has endured since he first came into existence. He pulls a ring box from the interior of his tailcoat, his shaky hands slowly flipping open the box to reveal a platinum band in the shape of a dragon encasing a deep viridian gem, forged from the magical energies of his Draconia ancestors. The ring was last worn by his Mother before her untimely demise, and his Grandmother was insistent that Malleus should one day gift his betrothed this one piece of family history. As the ballroom goes completely silent and the eyes of his subjects rest on the two of you with rapt, nervous attention, Malleus draws in a wavering inhale to steady his quivering voice as he fights the fear of rejection, before allowing the soft and tender question to slip past the careful line of his lips, "Will you marry me?"

Do y'all want part 2? Am I cruel for leaving it off there? In "x Reader" fics, I like to limit putting words in the reader's mouth or feelings in reader's head so that I can let you decide for yourselves how you wish to experience my stories. I am happy to pick back up where I left off if there is demand for it. Otherwise, I hope you continue weaving this tale in your own daydreams and fantasies. Thank you for reading and for your support of my writing! 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome P.S. I'm SORRY my paragraphs are so long I truly DO NOT UNDERSTAND when to break paragraphs, I hope it doesn't ruin your experience!

[speaksleazy]

┣[ "|"|"|" ]═─ SHY DOLL NPUTS ﹙for @thehauntedcemetery ﹚— predominantly feminine, some masculine

◜NAMES◞ — doll﹙dolly，dollie，babydoll﹚，doily﹙doilie﹚， demure， muse，adelaide，theodora，murmur，porcelynn，sweetiebelle，nina，nicodème¹，hyde，genevieve，genoveva，bambi﹙bambina²，bambino²﹚，melody ﹙melodie﹚，bernadette，alena³，visage，meek，anxious ﹙anxiesse﹚，sweetheart，lilac，lavender，bashful ﹙bashfelle﹚，wisp ﹙whisp，whisper﹚，teddy，kewpie⁴，esther⁵，rose，lovelace，marionette，puppet ﹙puppette﹚，poppet ﹙poppette﹚，lolita，nelly，lyla，teacup，coquette，essie，corsette，shiver，trembelle，drusilla，josie，hiccup，sidney

¹ French, pronounced 'nico-dem'. ² Italian. ³ Slovak. ⁴ A kind of doll. ⁵ Hebrew.

◜PRONOUNS◞ — she shy， de dear，lae lace，coo croon，mur murmur，mu mutter，ti timid，porce porcelain，pose posed，toy toytime，play playtime，tea teatime，me meek，joint jointed，de demure，whi whisper，dress dressup，coy coys，coquette coquetteish，shi shiver，pitter patter，kew kewpie

◜USERS◞ — demure-demeanor，bashfulnessa，teatime-with-﹙name﹚，shyaway-plaything，coytoy ﹙coyboytoy﹚，no-ones-toy ﹙no-girls-toy，no-boys-toy，no-beings-toy﹚，shyd-ll，inthecorner-ontheshelf，cutiekewpie，porcelainxious ﹙porcelainxiety﹚，shudder-mutter，coquettemarionette，meekionette，scaredy-puppet，eep-upette，demuremurmur，demurmur，b-shful

◜TITLES◞ — ＿＿ who hides ＿ face in ＿ hands ﹙＿＿ who's face is hidden in ＿ hands﹚，＿＿ with a muttered ﹙stuttered，murmured，whispered，hushed﹚voice，＿＿ posed on the shelf，＿ shy demeanor，the quiet one，＿＿ with porcelain skin，＿＿ with glassy eyes，＿＿ cowering on the shelf，＿＿ who's heart goes pitter-patter，your most demure plaything，the meekest doll ﹙puppet，marionette，plush，toy﹚

PT: (Syringe emoticon) Shy doll names, pronouns, usernames, and titles (for @/thehauntedcemetery). Predominantly feminine, some masculine.

Names: Doll/Dolly/Dollie/Babydoll, Doily/Doilie, Demure, Muse, Adelaide, Theodora, Murmur, Porcelynn, Sweetiebelle, Nina, Nicodème (French, pronounced 'Nico-deme), Hyde, Genevieve, Genoveva, Bambi/Bambina/Bambino (Italian), Melody/Melodie, Bernadette, Alena, Visage, Meek, Anxious/Anxiesse, Sweetheart, Lilac, Lavender, Bashful/Bashfelle, Wisp/Whisp/Whisper, Teddy, Kewpie (A kind of doll), Esther (Hebrew), Rose, Lovelace, Marionette, Puppet/Puppette, Poppet/Poppette, Lolita, Nelly, Lyla, Teacup, Coquette, Essie, Corsette, Shiver, Trembelle, Drusilla, Josie, Hiccup, Sidney

Pronouns: She/shy, De/dear, Lae/lace, Coo/croon, Mur/murmur, Mu/mutter, Ti/timid, Porce/porcelain, Pose/posed, Toy/toytime, Play/playtime, Tea/teatime, Me/meek, Joint/jointed, De/demure, Whi/whisper, Dress/dressup, Coy/coys, Coquette/coquetteish, Shi/shiver, Pitter/patter, Kew/kewpie

Usernames: demure-demeanor, bashfulnessa, teatime-with-(name), shyaway-plaything, coytoy/coyboytoy, no-ones-toy/no-girls-toy/no-boys-toy/no-beings-toy, shyd-ll, inthecorner-ontheshelf, cutiekewpie, porcelainxious/porcelainxiety, shudder-mutter, coquettemarionette, meekionette, scaredy-puppet, eep-upette, demuremurmur, demuremur, b-shful

Titles: (Pronoun) who hides (pronoun) face in (pronoun) hands/(Pronoun) who's face is hidden in (pronoun) hands, (Pronoun) with a muttered/stuttered/murmured/whispered/hushed voice, (Pronoun) posed on the shelf, (Pronoun) shy demeanor, The quiet one, (Pronoun) with porcelain skin, (Pronoun) with glassy eyes, (Pronoun) cowering on the shelf, (Pronoun) who's heart goes pitter-patter, Your most demure plaything, The meekest doll/puppet/marionette/plush/toy. End PT.

[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

Idiot

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI (18+ only)

Genre: Angst/Smut

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Tags: Heartbreak, Oral Sex, Hookups, Fucking your crush's brother, Bickering, Creampie, Slight Themes of SA, Sadistic Sukuna, Sukuna is his own warning, Female Reader, Hair Pulling, Painful Sex, Hate/Revenge Sex (sorta), Complicated Dynamics

Wordcount: 4.6k

Yuuji- your crush of two years- was dating someone else. The news was like a slap to the face. Honestly, though, you should have expected it. He was sweet, kind, and a little dense in an endearing way. He’d caught your eye the moment you two had met and hit it off, becoming fast friends. Your affection had grown into something more, but you’d tried to take things slow, not wanting to ruin your friendship.

You'd lost your chance... but Sukuna had gained one.

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

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The parking lot on the side of the bar was full of cars and litter, the latter of which you kicked at with a foot as you plopped onto a bench thrown haphazardly against the outside wall as an afterthought. The air was still and warm, inky blackness above hazed out by the light pollution of the city, obscuring all but the brightest few stars breaking through. The noise of the bar you’d left moments ago leaked out into the streets that were alive with the nightlife of downtown, tangling into a comforting cacophony. It would have been a perfect night if not for the bitter memory that was replaying over and over in your head as you tugged on your earrings- a self-soothing habit that had appeared the moment you’d pierced them.

“I heard you’re dating someone, Yuuji.”

Your friend’s face lit up in excited bashfulness as he grinned, ducking his head shyly. You’d nearly choked on your drink, holding a napkin to your face as your visage filled with disbelief and thinly veiled horror. Yuuji pulled out his phone to show a picture of the lucky girl, which only twisted the knife in your chest, but you smiled when he turned to you.

“She’s very pretty!” you forced out, beaming a little too widely to cover the stricken look on your face.

“Yeah,” Yuuji agreed, “She asked me out a few months ago and we’ve been dating. I finally asked her to be my girlfriend yesterday and she said yes!”

Yuuji- your crush of two years- was dating someone else. The news was like a slap to the face. Honestly, though, you should have expected it. He was sweet, kind, and a little dense in an endearing way. He’d caught your eye the moment you two had met and hit it off, becoming fast friends. Your affection had grown into something more, but you’d tried to take things slow, not wanting to ruin your friendship.

And now you’d lost your chance.

You’d made up a lame excuse about stepping out for some air, leaving the crowd of friends and mutual acquaintances behind to find your thoughts and breath outside where it wasn’t as suffocating. You didn’t smoke, but tonight you wished you did so you would have something for your mouth to do aside from pull into a tight line as you held back the dam threatening to break.

In retrospect, you had no place to be so upset with the way things had turned out.

You’d dropped hints, which became more and more obvious over time, until you felt like you had been parading around with a sign saying, “please date me, I like you”. You’d even been teased by a few of your friends, but you were determined to have him notice and ask you out. If you’d just been direct with Yuuji and asked him out like his girlfriend had-

You grimaced at the nausea welling up at the word “girlfriend” and “Yuuji’s” in the same sentence. It left a sour taste in your mouth.

“Your face is going to get stuck like that.”

You whipped your head towards the figure that had appeared nearby, standing on the far side of the bench. For a brief moment you thought it was Yuuji, heart fluttering, before your eyes caught on the dark tattoos lining the angular jawline. Your hopeful face fell a bit upon realizing it was Sukuna, Yuuji’s elder brother. The two could be identical twins with their pink hair and similar features, except that Sukuna sported tattoos across his larger frame and had the exact opposite personality of his brother. Whereas Yuuji was sweet- basically sunshine personified- Sukuna was barbed with sharp words and held an aura of danger, issuing a threat and a challenge with his narrowed eyes and cocky demeanor.

How the two were related was beyond you.

“And?” you finally found your voice and replied to the man, sighing and leaning back. “I don’t care.”

“You should, since you won’t get a guy with that kind of attitude.”

You scowled at him. Sukuna barely talked to you when you hung around Yuuji at their apartment, so why was he picking on you right now?

“Who says I’m trying to get a guy?”

Sukuna scoffed.

“I’m not blind. I know why you’re out here.”

Your heart fell into your toes and your shoulders pulled up towards your ears in shame. Of course Yuuji’s aloof yet observant older brother would have picked up on your little crush. Yuuji seemed to be the only one who had missed it apparently, if those pitying looks you’d caught out of the corner of your eye earlier had been anything to go by.

“He’s an idiot,” Sukuna continued in the absence of a reply.

He leaned lazily against the brick exterior of the building; his leather jacket slung over one shoulder in the heat of the night. Why he even brought a fucking leather jacket was beyond you. Probably because he thought he was “cool”. You scoffed a little to yourself, bitterness oozing through all your emotions.

You couldn’t deny he looked a little cool…

“Whatever,” you mumbled, resting your chin on your palm.

“You’re seriously moping about your little crush not getting your piss-poor attempts for flirting through his thick head?”

“Are you trying to pick a fight?”

You pushed yourself up to cross your arms and glower at Sukuna. He sure knew how to get under your skin, even if you’d only really seen each other in passing.

“You’re the one getting all bent out of shape over Yuuji getting a girlfriend,” Sukuna laughed, and it grated on your nerves. “Which is pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

“Pathetic?”

Sukuna grinned, leaning over you. The way he held himself, the way his eyes lit up with delight at the way he’d forced you to crane your neck up at him, the way his words needled you: it all felt like he was toying with you. It pissed you off. You narrowed your eyes.

“You can’t even ask some kid three years your junior out, of course it’s pathetic.”

He leaned down until there was only a hairs breadth between your noses. He was so close you could smell his cologne. If you hadn’t been focused on burning two holes into his skull you might have missed the way his eyes flickered down to your lips for a fraction of a second. It caught you off guard.

“Bold words from someone who probably wouldn’t be able to get a girl in bed if he begged on his knees.”

“That’s because I don’t beg,” Sukuna’s lips pulled back to reveal sharp canines.

You resisted the urge to shudder- whether from fear or a thrill you couldn’t be sure.

“Too bad,” you cocked your head to the side. “You’d look good on your knees.”

The words coming out of your mouth surprised you a little. Usually, you kept thoughts like those to yourself, but your tongue was loose tonight and you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit.

Sukuna’s smile widened alongside his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he appeared almost gleeful. The strength of his gaze pinned you in place while his words prickled along your spine.

“And here I thought you’d be boring.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

This time your eyes flickered down to his lips briefly.

Sukuna intrigued you. You hadn’t bothered to pay him much mind aside from cordiality when he was around, which he seldom returned. Your focus had been on being head-over-heels for Yuuji. Now, you took the time to take in his wide shoulders, flinty red eyes, and- holy shit was he wearing acrylics? The black, claw-like nails tipping each of his fingers drew your attention as he shifted his jacket to the other shoulder, still crowding himself into your personal space.

“So you just put on an act to appeal to my baby brother?” Sukuna asked.

You crossed your arms, looking away. You took a minute, trying to decide how to phrase what you wanted to say in a way that wouldn’t have Sukuna laughing at you. No matter how you diced it, it still sounded stupid to say out loud.

“I just toned-down things that I thought might… make him uncomfortable or scare him off.”

The man snorted, this time slipping his arms into the jacket he was holding instead of shifting it again.

“If you have to hide yourself to make yourself palatable, then how is the other person supposed to know if they actually like you?”

You hated being lectured by Sukuna, but he was right- not that you’d ever give him the satisfaction of knowing you agreed.

“So we should all be prickly and annoying like you?” you shot back.

“Is that what you think of me?”

You looked him up and down, feigning disinterest as he curled one side of his mouth up. You resisted the urge to slip your hand along his jawline, to run your thumb along his bottom lip.

“You have a habit of picking fights and teasing people. I’d hardly say that’s endearing.”

Sukuna’s hand darted out to grab your chin, tilting it up towards him while he looked down his nose at you, head cocked. You didn’t rip your face away, waiting to see what he would say next and relishing in the way his hand felt against your skin.

“I never set out to be endearing, sweetheart,” his words were condescending, but the gravelly undertones made you curl your toes inside your shoes as you wet your lips. His thumb rested lazily on your chin, and your mouth had moved before you could properly think, swallowing his digit.

Sukuna’s eyes widened as they locked on your lips, your tongue laving delicately around his sharp nail and caressing the pad of his thumb. The taste of sweat and skin was sweeter than the alcohol you’d ingested earlier, and you wondered if perhaps you were a little drunk to be enjoying the look on Sukuna’s face as much as you were. You released his finger with an audible pop, eyes still locked onto Sukuna’s.

“Is that how you wanna play it?”

Your insides shivered at his low register. Sukuna threaded his hand in your hair, grabbing a fistful close to the scalp and using it to guide you forcefully through the parking lot. It should have scared you, but for some reason the wires in your brain got crossed and filled you with excitement. Sukuna released your head from his grip, throwing his leg over a motorcycle (okay that was definitely cool) and gesturing for you to hop on.

“No helmet?” you asked, sliding on behind him.

“Do I look like someone who’d wear a helmet?” Sukuna scoffed.

You didn’t have time to answer as something heavy was shoved over your head. After reorienting yourself, you realized it was indeed a helmet. You found purchase around Sukuna’s waist and chest with anxious fingers as the engine roared to life. Sukuna noted your frantic grasp, and the engine revved several times, the vehicle jumping forward in speed until you were clinging to him for dear life as the two of you sped down roads, weaving through traffic.

The asshole was enjoying it.

You realized now why he wore a leather jacket in the middle of summer as a chill dragged itself across your bare arms in the wind whipping by. City lights smeared into each other, leaving a kaleidoscope of colors and shadows to play in your vision as you hunched against Sukuna’s body. Terror gripped your chest as you engaged muscles you didn’t know you possessed to grip onto whatever you could with all your strength. Even through the fear, you noted how lithe Sukuna’s body felt under your fingers. You wondered how it would feel without fabric blocking your skin from touching.

You must be insane.

When the ride came to an end, Sukuna had parked in front of his and Yuuji’s apartment. You fumbled the helmet off while he dismounted, setting it on the empty seat in front of you. Sukuna yanked you from the vehicle with one hand, barely letting you catch your balance before dragging you up the stairs. When you didn’t move fast enough, feet tripping over each other, he hauled you up with one arm, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. An undignified squeal left your mouth before you could help it. You scrabbled to reorient yourself as Sukuna came to a halt in front of his apartment door. Your struggling was rewarded with a sharp slap to your ass, leaving your face burning with humiliation.

What if a neighbor saw?

The squeal of a door opening drew your attention. Inside the apartment, Sukuna slammed the door behind you two, swiftly moving to his room. You were thrown unceremoniously on the bed, bouncing twice from the force. When the brief dizziness subsided, you looked up at the man still standing at the edge of the bed. He had stripped off his jacket, tossing it aside onto a chair somewhere nearby.

“You seemed pretty intent on putting on a little show earlier,” Sukuna leaned forward, resting his hands on the bed. “You all bluff or what?”

Bluff? You wanted to scoff. You didn’t start something you wouldn’t finish. Besides, you had some skills up your sleeve you figured Sukuna didn’t think you possessed- he obviously thought you were some goody-two shoes lovesick idiot. You kicked off your heels, pulling your hair up and retying it out of the way as you got up on your knees.

“Oh?”

Sukuna’s voice was amused. He still thought you were bluffing if his tone was anything to go by. He probably assumed you had seen a porno where a girl had done the same thing. Probably assumed you were a virgin.

Bastard.

You weren’t as inexperienced as he believed you to be. You may have been three years younger than him, but you had slept around a bit. Honestly, you wondered how many girls he pulled anyway with his brusque demeanor.

Your hands worked at his pants as you slid off the bed to get on your knees. Sukuna was already hard, his dick resting heavily in your hand as you pulled him out. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and you started mentally tallying how long it would take you to adjust to him and be able to get most, if not all, down your throat. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be gentle even with someone who wasn’t experienced, so you prepared yourself accordingly.

“It ain’t gonna bite ya-” Sukuna’s eye roll was cut off as you licked a stripe from the base of his dick to the tip. He hissed, digging a hand into your hair.

You didn’t dignify him with a reply, too occupied with pressing kisses and kitten licks to the hot skin. You even branched out and kissed the crease where his thigh met his hip, biting at it gently. You could hear a huff of laughter above you.

“I ain’t your lover, no need for all that.”

You were getting sick of his little commentary and swallowed the tip, enjoying the way it forced Sukuna to grit his teeth against a moan. Pulling off you glared up at him.

“How about you shut up and let me do my job,” you dug your thumbnail into his hip, leaving a crescent shaped mark in its wake.

“Didn’t take you for a feisty bitch,” he pulled your head back by your hair.

You couldn’t help the quiet whimper escaping your throat. As much as you wanted to snap a reply, you returned to kissing the skin of his dick, purposefully avoiding the head. He deserved to suffer a little. You could tell he was getting impatient; the hand in your hair was twitching. You dragged your tongue along his length with an excruciating slowness, listening to the way his breath hitched above you.

“If you don’t fucking-”

You enveloped his dick in your hot mouth, effectively cutting off all complaints as you switched from slow and tantalizing to a measured pace. You swirled your tongue around the head, pausing to pay extra attention to the underside of the head. You head bobbed, taking in more of his length each time you went down, gauging your gag reflex with each stroke. You were good until the last inch or so, feeling your throat and chest seize up as your airway was cut off as you went down. You pulled off completely to catch your breath, risking a glance up at Sukuna.

The sight went straight to your core.

Sukuna’s eyes were lidded, face flushed with pleasure, and mouth parted as he panted. There was a conflicted look on his face that quickly morphed into a scowl when he realized you were looking up at him.

“Did I say to stop?”

You couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto your face. He was acting like a petulant child- a brat. You wrapped a hand around his dick- still slick with your spit- and began stoking languidly, smiling sweetly up at him.

“That’s not how you ask for things you want, is it?”

“You’re a fucking tease,” Sukuna growled, shoving your face towards his dick with the hand still buried in your locks.

“I know,” you pressed a kiss to the tip, still stroking him. “Now why don’t you ask nicely?”

Sukuna hauled you up by your hair, pressing a vicious kiss against your mouth, teeth catching on your lips and drawing a bead of blood. Your body was forced onto the bed, his arms caging you in. His breathing was labored enough to prove you had an effect on him, which pleased you.

“Like hell I’ll beg,” he clamped down on the juncture between your shoulder and neck.

You bit back your groan of pleasure as a thrill ran over your skin. Your body was stripped of clothes in an instant, his hands holding your hips in place as he situated himself between your legs. He didn’t bother checking if you were wet, or to even attempt any kind of foreplay. You narrowed your eyes.

“Well I can see why you can’t keep a girlfriend,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Sukuna paused. He looked irritated.

“What the hell makes you say that?”

“You think one kiss and a hickey makes a girl wet enough for you to slide in?” you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Especially since you aren’t wearing a fucking condom and I doubt you have lube laying around.”

Sukuna didn’t have the decency to look ashamed, his frown growing wider.

“Well what the fuck do you want me to do?”

“You could try finding the clit, but I doubt you’d be able to,” you flopped down onto your back, disappointment heavy in your chest.

You didn’t know why you’d expected a selfish asshole to be able to please a woman, but you thought he had to know at least a little. You were feeling shitty enough as it was with how the night had gone down, and you probably wouldn’t even be able to get off.

You jumped a little when a hand brushed over your neatly trimmed curls, Sukuna’s thumb bumping against your hood. A whine escaped your throat when he gently pulled it back, sliding across your sensitive nub.

“What was that about not finding your clit?”

You did your best to scowl at him, but his thumb was moving in paced circles, leaving you squirming.

“Shut up,” you bit out. “If a girl has to tell y-ah!”

Sukuna was a touch clumsy, but it wasn’t bad by any means. You lost yourself in the sensation, the coil in your stomach starting to wind as you felt the need to be filled growing stronger with each pass of his finger.

“You wet enough now?”

The words drew you back to the present and you looked at Sukuna, eyes lidded. You were placated enough to nod, watching as he lined himself up. He held no qualms when it came to shoving himself in, not giving you time to adjust. Your back arched and your fingers dug into the dark bedsheets, teeth gritting against the sudden intrusion. There was no time to catch your breath. Sukuna set the pace hard and fast, short cries leaving your lips with each thrust.

The man had strength and stamina, you had to admit. His grip on your hips left red marks from how hard he held them. The drag of his length against your insides had your eyes rolling back into your skull.

God, it had been a while since you’d been fucked hard and fast like this. Even when you did hook up with someone, it was usually over quickly. Sukuna showed no signs of slowing and hadn’t blown his load in the first few pumps, which was a win in and of itself, but you were growing more and more impressed as he manhandled you over onto your hands and knees.

“Fuck, and here I thought you were a virgin,” Sukuna grunted as you keened, back arched and ass pressed back against him. “But you’ve-nngh!- obviously done this before.”

Your face was buried in the mattress, but you turned your head to the side to look behind you at the tattooed man rearranging your guts with a gaze split between irritation and debauchery.

“You think a virgin could’ve sucked your dick like that?”

Every other word was punctuated with a gasp as he hammered into you with ferocity. He didn’t seem to like your back talk, shoving your head back down into the sheets and angling himself deeper until your muffled cries turned from pleasure to borderline pain. You tapped frantically on the arm holding your head down, but were ignored. The repeated assault on your cervix did nothing to make you feel good, instead causing painful cramps with each thrust.

Sukuna finally relented, flipping you back over. You were pissed off, face contorted into anger.

“That hurt,” you hissed, kicking at him.

“Don’t be so sensitive, Christ,” Sukuna grabbed your leg and hauled it over his shoulder. “Just take it like a good little whore.”

The tone he took only made your irritation grow, and you tried to kick him off with your other leg, which was quickly commandeered as well. Sukuna folded you back over on yourself, legs over his shoulders.

“Stop whining and just enjoy it,” he snapped at you. “God, I wouldn’t have brought you back if I’d know you’d be this picky about how you get fucked.”

His nose was brushing yours now as you faced him. Your frown and lowered brows were mirrored above you in Sukuna’s features. The snap of his hips against yours grew pleasant again now that you weren’t in pain, and the frown disappeared as your lip snagged between your teeth in a muffled whimper.

“Better?” Sukuna asked sarcastically, although you could tell he was holding back a moan.

“That feels good,” you conceded, trying to sink back into the pleasant feeling that had eluded you earlier.

“You’re prettier to look at when you aren’t bitching,” Sukuna panted, lowering his lips to yours to cut off any indignant reply.

His lips were hot against yours, tongue invading your mouth with insistence. You replied in kind, nipping at his lower lip.

“And you’re not half bad when you aren’t being an asshole,” you breathed when the two of you pulled back.

“That so?” Sukuna snapped his hips against yours.

The choked off cry that left your chest seemed to please the man, and he repeated the action. Each moan was like honey in his ears.

Yuuji really lost out on this girl, Sukuna grinned, biting the soft skin of your inner thigh.

Since the moment you’d started showing up at the apartment to hang with his brother, Sukuna had his eye on you. Your obvious crush on Yuuji had irritated him. Yuuji was just so fucking dense. The kid wouldn’t have noticed you wanted him if you’d splayed yourself out on his bed in lingerie. Sukuna had half a mind to tell his brother, but found he enjoyed watching you struggle to get the attention you so desired. Besides, if Yuuji rejected you, that meant that he wouldn’t see you around anymore, and Sukuna hadn’t liked that idea. But Yuuji started dating someone else, and that left you hung out to dry. Sukuna had wondered how long it would take for the news to spread and your heart to be shattered.

Maybe he was a shit person for waiting around eagerly to see you slink dejectedly out of the bar so he could sink his teeth into you. You’d taken his bait, and even seemed interested in him.

Women with broken hearts were easy to snag.

But you’d thrown him for a loop. The demure, shy girl he'd witnessed yearning for his brother was nowhere to be found. You were demanding, argumentative, and gave him shit. Normally he wouldn’t have entertained the kind of behavior you’d thrown at him. His own pride and stubbornness lent him to toss out anyone who didn’t just comply, but he couldn’t bring himself to make you leave even after your scathing comments about his supposed incompetence in turning you on. He reluctantly gave into your desires, although he couldn’t help his sadistic streak when it came to punishing you for the words you’d cut him with. He reveled in the way he could silence your complaints by drowning them in pleasure.

“S’kuna!”

Hearing his name paired with the way you clenched around him had Sukuna gritting his teeth in an attempt to stave off his impending orgasm. Your legs had gone rigid, shaking with exertion as you writhed against him.

Sukuna, in an uncharacteristic act of kindness, moved his hand down to your clit, carefully flicking it with his finger while you held back a wail. Your coherence was quickly disappearing the closer you sped towards your release, and Sukuna was determined to have you finish first. Amid the panting and groaning, through the haze of his mounting ecstasy, he heard the front door rattle as it shut.

Yuuji must be home.

Sukuna couldn’t help the wolfish grin that spread over his features as he redoubled his efforts. Your cries grew louder as your back arched and his name fell from your pretty lips, crashing into his ears with a sweet whine. The second he felt you spasm around him, Sukuna was unable to hold back any longer. Your insides were painted with white, Sukuna still thrusting into you through it all as curses flew from his mouth.

Your chest heaved, covered by a sheen of sweat in the receding afterglow, Sukuna’s body still enveloping yours in a crushing embrace. He rolled off of you when you whimpered, tapping his shoulder. The air in the room was crushingly hot and humid. Sukuna pulled his boxers on, immediately heading to the door. He didn’t even give you time to cover yourself before he flung it open, crossing his arms and raising his brows.

Yuuji was standing in the hallway, rooted to the spot with a flush across his entire face, whether from being caught eavesdropping on the situation, or for some other reason. His eyes were the size of saucers, mouth agape as he stared past his brother at where you lay, suddenly snapped back down to earth and reaching for something to provide you with a modicum of modesty.

“It’s late, you should get to bed,” Sukuna didn’t bother to even close the door a bit to block Yuuji from looking in, as if he was gloating.

“W-why is Y/N-”

“Because,” Sukuna’s face filled with malicious pleasure. His chin lifted so he could look down his nose at the horrified face of his younger brother. “You're an idiot, and I’m not.”