#shadows a menace in this mode

[disgracedghostprincess]

A little break from the angst to give this XD

Sonic Masterpost

[lunarlicorice]

SHADE

[kashverse]

how would babykuna fend off a man getting too friendly with mamakuna?👹

life, in all its wonder, occasionally presents moments no one asks for—like unsolicited masculinity at the grocery store.

there you were, simply trying to decide between two brands of pasta, when a voice intruded upon your peaceful existence. "you know," said a man who smelled suspiciously of overpriced cologne and misplaced confidence, "most people don’t realize there’s a huge difference between keto and gluten-free."

ah. one of those men.

you turned, already bracing yourself. "oh. uh, yeah."

"it’s actually fascinating," he continued, leaning way too close to your personal space. "keto is all about low-carb intake, while gluten-free is more about avoiding wheat proteins. a lot of people think they’re the same, but i make it a point to educate whenever i can."

babykuna, sitting proudly in the shopping cart, had been silently observing this disaster unfold. her tiny hands gripped the metal frame, her little brows furrowed in utter disdain.

this...this was unacceptable. mama was under attack. and until papa arrived, she had to be the hero. she sucked in a dramatic breath and let out a long, exaggerated "eeewwwwww."

the man blinked. "uh—"

babykuna wrinkled her nose like she had just smelled something truly foul. "mamaaaa, he stiiiiiiiinks."

you cleared your throat, trying (and failing) to suppress your amusement. "baby, that's not—"

"yes, it is," she cut in, now pointing at the man like he was an exhibit at a zoo. "he smells like...like..." she thought for a second, then gasped. "yucky cheese!"

the man visibly bristled. "i—uh, i don’t think that’s—"

"yucky, stinky cheese," she confirmed, nodding sagely. then, just to make things worse, she waved a tiny hand in front of her nose, scrunching her face in an oscar-worthy performance of disgust.

you sighed, switching to polite rejection mode. "listen, i really appreciate the...um, food science lesson, but I’m just here to shop with my daughter—"

"papa’s coming," babykuna cut in, her tone warning.

and oh, how those words sent a ripple of cosmic dread into the universe.

because just as the man opened his mouth to press whatever point he thought he had, a shadow loomed over the scene.

sukuna.

tall. broad. wearing his usual look of mild menace. he took one glance at the situation—his wife looking vaguely annoyed, his daughter puffed up like an offended cat, some random guy standing too close—and placed a single hand on the cart.

"hey, babe," he said casually, eyes fixed on the man like a wolf sizing up its next meal. "who’s this?"

the man, suddenly realizing the error of his ways, took a sharp step back. "oh, i was just—uh—talking about—"

"stinky cheese," babykuna supplied, nodding solemnly. sukuna smirked. "oh yeah?" he turned to you. "you makin’ friends?"

"not particularly," you deadpanned.

the man fumbled. "i—uh, actually, i just remembered I have to—uh—go get, um, kale. yeah. kale." and just like that, he disappeared down the aisle, never to be seen again. babykuna sighed, relieved. "phew. he almost touched mama with his stink."

sukuna chuckled, ruffling her hair. "good lookin’ out, kid."

and with that, the three of you continued your shopping trip, the crisis of stinky cheese man officially averted.

[mahalachives]

The Spymaster's Greatest Mission

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: In which you report something urgent to Azriel.

genre: fluff, humor

Azriel was in his study when he felt it.

A disturbance.

His shadows, ever faithful, ever vigilant, curled around his ears in silent alarm.

Something was coming.

Something… dangerous.

His instincts sharpened as he sat back in his chair, muscles taut. The last time his mate had approached him with this much chaotic intent, he had ended up as an unwilling participant in a surprise tea party hosted by Mor and Amren—which had involved more alcohol than tea.

Azriel exhaled. Braced himself.

Then, the door creaked open.

You stepped inside with the grace of a warrior about to deliver critical intelligence. Your expression was grave, your hands clasped behind your back, shoulders squared.

Azriel straightened in his chair, instantly alert. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, closing the door behind you.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you said, voice low.

Azriel was already scanning you for injuries, for any sign of distress, for—

“It’s inside me.”

Azriel’s heart stopped.

Shadows exploded outward, surging toward you as his eyes snapped to yours in sheer, lethal panic. “What’s inside you?”

You hesitated. “I—I don’t know how to explain it. It’s growing. It’s—”

Azriel was already on his feet, scanning you for signs of an attack. Had something poisoned you? A curse? A dark spell? Had you been marked by something foul?

“Where?” he demanded, voice clipped, shadows slithering over you in search of the threat. “Where do you feel it?”

You bit your lip. Looked down.

And gently patted your stomach.

Azriel’s blood ran cold.

His mind ran through every possible scenario at breakneck speed.

A parasite?

A foreign spell?

An assassin’s curse?

Had someone done this to you? Was there a remedy?

His hand went to Truth-Teller.

“We’ll fix this,” he vowed. “Whatever it is—”

You lifted a tiny pair of fabric Illyrian wings onto his desk.

Azriel stared at them.

Then at you.

Then back at them.

Silence.

More silence.

A painfully long silence.

And then—

Azriel, voice flat, dead serious: “Is this a hostage situation?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Did someone implant something in you?” he demanded. “Is this a warning? Are we under attack?”

You gaped at him. “Azriel—”

His eyes snapped back to the tiny wings, his brain working in rapid-fire calculations. They looked real. But how? Had someone—had someone cloned him? Was this some new experimental dark magic?

You groaned. Dragged a hand down your face. “You idiot.”

Azriel finally—finally—met your eyes again.

And that’s when it clicked.

Everything.

The way you were holding back laughter, your lips twitching. The way Mor had been suspiciously giggling all morning. The way Cassian had been avoiding eye contact with him as if he knew something Azriel didn’t.

Azriel slowly sat back down. Stared at the tiny wings. Then at you.

Then, very, very slowly—

“…Are you saying,” he said carefully, “that you are growing this… inside you?”

You exhaled so hard, your entire body sagged. “Yes, Azriel.”

Azriel just… blinked.

You squinted at him. “Are you processing?”

“I am.”

“Do I need to say it out loud?”

Azriel’s shadows curled around him, reeling. His wings tensed. His mind flooded with realization, with understanding, with—

“You’re—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “You’re pregnant.”

You grinned. “Yes, my love.”

Silence.

More silence.

Azriel’s shadows shivered.

And then—he stood up and walked out.

You stared. “Azriel?”

Nothing.

Just the door swinging shut behind him.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Then Cassian’s raucous, violent laughter erupted from the hallway.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “What are the chances he’s having a full-blown Spymaster breakdown right now?”

Mor peeked inside, grinning like a menace. “I give him five minutes before he goes full battle-strategy mode.”

“Three,” Rhys countered, strolling in behind her. “He’s already pacing outside.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

And sure enough, two minutes later, Azriel stormed back in—wild-eyed, shadows whipping around him in full-blown panic mode.

“We need a plan.”

You smirked. “For what?”

“For everything.” Azriel started pacing again. “A safety protocol. A healer. A strategy for the next eighteen years.” He ran a hand through his hair, stressed. “We need to ward the townhouse. Feyre needs to teach you shielding magic. Cassian—” He turned sharply. “You are banned from speaking to our child unsupervised.”

Cassian, clutching his stomach from laughter: “Too late, I already called dibs on being their favorite uncle.”

Azriel ignored him. “Mor, you’ll help train them when they’re older. And Rhys—”

Rhys held up a hand, amused. “You want me to start drafting their first diplomatic treaty?”

Azriel did not laugh. “Actually, yes.”

You finally took pity on your mate. You walked up, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against him. His shadows immediately curled around you like they could shield you from the entire world.

Azriel looked down at you, brows drawn. “Are you alright?”

Your heart melted. “Of course I am.”

“You’re not scared?”

You grinned up at him. “Azriel, I once ate a two-day-old Velaris street kebab on a dare—I fear nothing.”

Azriel exhaled sharply, closing his eyes. Then, without another word, he crushed you against him, arms tightening, wings flaring, as if he could anchor himself to you and never let go.

His lips pressed against your temple, lingering, warm, reverent. “You’re carrying our child.”

Your throat tightened at the sheer wonder in his voice.

“I am,” you whispered.

Azriel let out a long, slow breath, his hands pressing over your stomach like a vow. Like a promise.

Then—

Cassian, ever the menace, clapped his hands together. “So! Who wants to tell him that he’s probably going to get peed on within the first week?”

Azriel’s eyes snapped open.

His shadows lunged.

Cassian ran for his life.

[themagicseal17]

Lesson Learned, Never Leave Your Bag Unattended.

NSFW warning. 18+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The loft was buzzing with energy, the pack gathered in Derek’s space for their weekly meeting. The air was thick with tension—not just from the threat of hunters or rival packs, but from something far more personal. You sat on the edge of the couch, trying to blend into the shadows as Derek paced the room, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light. He was in full alpha mode, commanding the room with ease, but there was a glint in his eye that made your stomach twist.

You’d been dating Derek for a few months now, and while the relationship was intense, it was also fragile. He was volatile, unpredictable, and tonight, he seemed particularly… focused on you. His eyes kept flickering toward you, dark and unreadable, as if he were piecing together some puzzle only he could see.

The meeting dragged on, but you barely heard a word. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment earlier when you’d caught Derek rummaging through your bag. It had been quick, almost casual, but the way he’d paused, his fingers brushing against something small and crinkly, had sent a jolt of panic through you. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time—until now.

Derek’s voice cut through the chatter, sharp and commanding. “Everyone out. Now.”

The pack exchanged glances but didn’t argue. They filed out quickly, leaving you alone with him. The door clicked shut behind the last person, and the silence that followed was deafening. Derek leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his piercing gaze locked onto you.

“You forgot something,” he said casually, pulling a small square packet from his pocket. He held it up, letting the dim light catch the wrapper. A condom. Your stomach dropped.

“Derek—” you started, but he cut you off with a low, menacing chuckle.

“Care to explain?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. He pushed off the wall and took a step toward you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. “I thought we were exclusive. Or did I misread the situation?”

Your heart pounded as he closed the distance between you. “It’s not what you think,” you stammered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound confident. “I-I carry them just in case. You know, safety first?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Safety first,” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He stopped inches away from you, his body radiating heat. “And here I thought I was the only one who needed to worry about keeping you safe.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He tilted his head, studying you with those piercing eyes, and then suddenly, he smirked.

“Relax,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “I’m not mad. Just… curious.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Why do you need these, exactly? Am I not satisfying you enough?”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you shook your head vigorously. “No, that’s not it at all! I just—I wasn’t sure if you—”

He cut you off again, this time with a deep, possessive kiss. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you hard against him as his tongue demanded entry. You melted into him, your protests forgotten as the world narrowed down to the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your lips tingling. He looked down at you, his expression dark and hungry. “You don’t need these,” he growled, tossing the condom onto the coffee table. “Because you’re mine. And I don’t share.”

His possessiveness sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself nodding without thinking. “Yours,” you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

Derek’s smirk widened, and he stepped back, giving you just enough space to breathe. But then he surprised you by dropping to his knees in front of you. Your breath hitched as he looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Since you seem so concerned about protection,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “let me remind you why you don’t need it.”

Before you could process what was happening, his hands slid under your skirt, pushing it up around your waist. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulled them down, letting them fall to the floor. You gasped, your legs instinctively parting as he settled between them.

“Derek, the pack—” you started, but he silenced you with a look.

“They won’t come back until I call them,” he said simply, his hands sliding up your thighs. “Now be quiet and let me take care of you.”

His words left no room for argument, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan as his mouth found your core. His tongue was hot and relentless, lapping at you with a skill that left you trembling. He teased and toyed with you, alternating between slow, languid strokes and rougher, more urgent motions that had you gripping the edge of the couch for support.

“Derek,” you whimpered, your hips arching toward him as the pressure built inside you. He hummed in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he worked you over with his mouth.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he pulled away, leaving you teetering on the edge. You whined in protest, but he ignored you, standing up and stripping off his shirt in one fluid motion. His abs flexed as he moved, and you couldn’t help but stare, your mouth going dry.

“See something you like?” he asked, his voice rough with desire. You nodded dumbly, unable to form words. He chuckled, stepping closer and cupping your face in his hand. “Good. Because you’re not going anywhere until I’ve marked you as mine.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you realized with a start how much you wanted it—wanted him. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as his hands roamed your body, touching and claiming every inch of you. When he finally pulled away, he reached for the condom on the table, tearing open the wrapper with his teeth.

“Just this once,” he murmured, sliding the condom on with practiced ease. “Because I want to make sure you remember this.”

And then he was inside you, filling you completely as he pinned you to the couch. His thrusts were slow at first, deliberate, each one drawing a gasp from your lips. But soon, the pace quickened, his movements growing rougher, more desperate. You clung to him, nails digging into his back as you matched his rhythm, your bodies moving together in perfect sync.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your ragged breaths and muffled moans. Derek’s lips found your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin as he whispered filthy promises in your ear.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, the word tumbling out of your mouth without hesitation. He rewarded you with a particularly hard thrust that had you seeing stars, and you cried out, your body tightening around him as pleasure crashed over you.

[multific]

Held by Fate

Eric Draven x Reader

Summary: You thought you met him by chance, but it was all fate.

The streets were quiet as you walked home that evening, the soft glow of the streetlights didn't help much in the dark.

You had stayed late at work, finishing up a project, and now the city had taken on an eerie darkness. The air was cold making you shiver and urging you to quicken your pace.

You didn’t mind walking alone at night, it was something you had done countless times before. But tonight, something felt different, something was definitely off and you couldn't point it out just yet.

As you turned the corner onto another street, your heart rate spiked.

Three men emerged from the shadows, blocking your path. Their eyes were filled with ill intentions, and a cruel smirk played on the lips of the one in the middle.

You audibly gulped.

“Hello there, Sweetheart. What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?” one of them said as he took a step closer.

You clutched your bag tightly, your mind racing for a way out. “I… I’m just heading home. Please, let me pass.” Probably not the best idea to mention your home in case they follow you. But you were in full panic mode.

The men laughed, which was probably not a good sign. They moved in, surrounding you, and you could feel your breath quickening.

You tried to think of a way out but your mind was blank.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” another one said, his voice dripping with menace.

Before you could react, a voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Leave her alone.”

You turned toward the source of the voice, your heart pounding in your ears.

Standing a few feet away was a man in a worn leather jacket, his hands clenched into fists. It took you a moment to recognize him. Eric.

He was the man you had helped at the grocery store just a few days ago.

The leader of the group sneered. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Eric stepped forward, his expression cold and unwavering. “I said, leave her alone.”

Something about the way he said it, the determination in his voice, made the men hesitate. For a moment, it seemed like they were weighing their options.

Then, with a grunt of frustration, the leader waved his hand dismissively.

“Whatever, man. Let’s go. The bitch is not worth it.”

The three men backed off, disappearing into the shadows where they came from. You let out a shaky breath, the tension draining from your body.

Eric approached you, his gaze softening as he saw the fear in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, though your legs felt like jelly. “Yes, thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

Eric offered a faint smile.

“I’m just glad I got here in time.” He glanced around, making sure the men were truly gone before turning back to you. “Let me walk you home. It’s not safe out here.”

You hesitated for a moment but then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

As the two of you began walking, the initial shock wore off, and you found yourself stealing glances at him.

He seemed different from the first time you met, he looked a lot more confident.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” you said after a moment.

“Yeah, neither did I. Funny how life works, huh?” he chuckled.

“How have you been?” you asked cautiously, remembering the brief conversation you’d had with him at the store.

You met him when he was in front of you at the store, he was a little short on change and the cashier was riding his ass about it. You stepped in and paid for him. After, he was thankful and he had a short conversation with you. This is when he mentioned something about getting back on his feet.

This was a couple months ago.

He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s been… tough. I just got out of rehab a couple of weeks ago. Trying to stay clean, stay sober. It’s a day-by-day thing.”

“That sounds really hard. But it’s good that you’re trying.” something about his honesty touched you.

Eric glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

“Most people don’t say that. They either avoid me or look at me like I’m a lost cause.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re a lost cause. You saved me tonight. That counts for something.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Thanks. That means more than you know.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights casting a soft glow on the wet pavement. Eventually, you reached your apartment building. You turned to face Eric, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and curiosity.

“This is me,” you said, gesturing toward the entrance.

Eric nodded, lingering a moment longer. “I’m glad you’re okay. If you ever need anything… well, I’m around.”

You hesitated, then reached into your bag and pulled out a small notepad. Scribbling your number on a piece of paper, you handed it to him.

“In case you ever need someone to talk to.”

Eric stared at the paper for a moment before taking it, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Thanks. I… I really appreciate that.”

“Goodnight, Eric.”

“Goodnight.”

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t the last time your paths would cross. There was something about him—a quiet strength, a hint of sadness, and an undeniable kindness—that stayed with you long after you closed the door behind you.

Little did you know, that night was just the beginning.

A/N: Part 2 is currently in progress.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[doeeyedseer]

My hope for the next book is that we get to see an azriel who is soft with elain but who has no mercy with those who threaten her. Someone who is territorial and absolute in his protection of elain with no qualms about using violence.

We know that elain will be in dangerous situations and I hope that az is right by her side ready to defend her by any means necessary. I want to see him use physical violence and threats to defend her. To be a menacing presence at her side daring anyone to try.

Growling and snarling. Wings flaring. Shadows gathering and surrounding ready to strike any threat to her. Unable to be calmed down by anyone but elain when he goes into protective mode. Give me the azriel at the highlords meeting choking out eris, careful how you talk to my high lady azriel, eyes glazed with rage ready to rescue elain no matter the risk azriel.

She's his home and his light and he isn't going to let anyone touch her.

[transformers-spike]

I've been loving all the sparkling hc and such it's giving me brain rot

You're sleeping in bed until you wake up and see your creepy little cybertronian daughter with a frowny face emoticon on her face screen.

"I threw up." She has a similarly monotone as Soundwave.

Also I'm imagining the human partner lives on earth while soudwave works back on the nemesis till his shift ends.

She likes to wrap her tentacles around you for hugs.

KO with split spark sparklings

One is a little angel baby princess who hates getting dirty or scratches on her paint and would rather play indoors. Knockout had to physically carry her at times because she refuses to walk or drive on dirt.

The other is a menace to society, loves driving fast even if it means wrecking himself. Absolutely enjoys human culture and earth as a planet. Best friendsb with Breakdown's sparkling. Sweet kid but is a huge mess maker.

You try not to snort as your kids hands Knockout an entire rose bush, stem, roots, dirt and all.

"I love it" Knockout smiles through thinly veiled disgust and your sparkling beams.You end up planting it in the back garden.

Starscream's kid is 100% his pride and joy even though he tries to pretend like she's not. His sparkling would either be the most arrogant thing possible or super sweet no in-between. When she's too small to fly on her own she rides in his cockpit but as she gets bigger they fly together and he definitely shows her fancy flight maneuvers. Father-daughter dates because he wants her to have high standards.

You watch your daughter's wings droop and lower derma pout as she begs you for the toys from her favorite cartoon.

"Pleeeeeeaase, they're limited time edition."

Her puppy dog eyes might work on Starscream but not you....right, right? Stay strong soldier.

I like to imagine megs with a daughter aswell (you get a daughter and you get a daughter 🫵) while it would be karmic debt to get a kid whos really sensitive it's much funnier if the child is a gremlin.

"Your time is up Megatron."

Optimus points his blaster down at him but he catches something the corner of his optic. A sparkling jumps infront of Megatron before Optimus can shoot him.

"Using your own sparkling as a shield is low even fo-"

He's cut off as Megs daughter tranforms into a gun and shoots him.

"You were saying, Prime"

Gun alt mode is so fucking funny to me.

YESSSSSS I LOVE THE SPARKLING BRAINROT Soundwave's kid is the scariest most intelligent baby ever. Very affectionate with her mom, but also very likely to eliminate whatever she thinks is "threatening" her caretaker. Her creepy voice is perfection - makes me wonder if her dad ever speaks to her despite his vow of silence - or if he just sticks to EM field communication Lmao Knock Out's split-sparks are are his punishment for being the way he is. They each adopted some of his worst traits lmao. You'd think the twins don't get along but - no - it's even worse. One of them is great at manipulation, while the other is an adrenaline junkie who keeps crashing into his sire's pedes - together, they're unstoppable. If they unite forces with Breakdown's kid, they'll end the world together I personally loveeee the concept of Starscream starting off being like ew towards his own child before eventually bonding with her and being overwhelmed by his need to protect this part of himself. Still in denial abt it- even tho he shadows her constantly during flights and acts way nicer than he does to anyone else. Also the type of parent who refuses to think his kid has done anything wrong lol Megatron with a feral daughter is the best. I'm telling you, she's been gnawing on him since day one. Imagine she turns into something similar to G1 Galvatron's alt-mode - a turret-gun of sorts. She may not cause all that much damage, but her role model is carnage incarnate. Now watch her follow in his pede-steps

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Imagine 141 & Konig walking home late at night with their gf and as soon as they find themselves near an empty park or a more isolated street, some jerk with a knife / gun tries to rob them. Even worse, he threatens to hurt the SO in even worse ways if they don't comply. Will they avoid violence and cooperate or go Rambo mode on the man? Thank you very much.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾

Task Force 141 (+König) + fem! reader

Oh YES. I feel like Simon and König would go fully violence mode. Like, they wouldn’t even hesitate to jump this man because how dare he threaten you? Price would try to solve the problem but as soon as he sees it doesn’t get better he would literally break that man. They’re way too protective over you and would absolutely destroy anyone that dares to touch you or even threaten you.

Thank you for the ask I hope you enjoy lovelies 🩷

♫ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♩ ♬ ♭ ♮ ♯

König

As the moon cast its gentle glow upon the darkened streets, you walked alongside König, feeling safe in his presence. The night air was cool and the sound of your footsteps echoed softly as you made your way home. But how were you supposed to know that you guys were being followed by someone with not so good intentions?

As you neared a secluded park or an empty street, a man emerged from the shadows, brandishing a knife or a gun with malicious intent. Panic surged through your veins and fear threatened to overwhelm your senses.

"Give me the woman. Now." the man‘s voice was deep and filled with danger

But in that moment, König's protective instincts surged forth like a tidal wave. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and without a moment's hesitation, he stepped in front of you, a shield against the impending danger.

"You" König's voice carried a steely determination, "will not harm her. Not while I'm here."

The man laughed in a maniac way and the tension in the air grew palpable as the assailant's gaze shifted from you to König. A battle of wills ensued, as the predator met the match in the form of a soldier who refused to back down. König's stance exuded confidence, a silent promise that he would not allow him to harm you.

With a swift motion, König moved, disarming the threat. His movements were precise, a testament to his training and unwavering dedication to protect those he cared for.

As the confrontation reached its climax, König's determination prevailed, overpowering that man. With a final blow, he incapacitated the threat, ensuring your safety and ending the ordeal.

Breathing heavily, König turned his attention to you, his eyes filled with concern. He reached out, gently cradling your face, his touch a balm to the frayed edges of your nerves.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with an underlying intensity.

You nodded, a mixture of relief and gratitude flooding your being. In that moment, you realized that he had risked his own safety to protect you, fighting with everything he had to protect you.

You wrapped yourself in his comforting embrace, as a thank you, since the shock didn’t leave your body. And with a soft sigh he patted your head, reassuring your safety.

Simon Riley

The night was dark and quiet as Simon walked alongside you, the two of you engrossed in conversation, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. Your laughter echoed through the empty streets, filling the air with a sense of warmth and joy.

But as fate would have it, you found yourselves near an empty park. And you guys didn’t see someone following you. Suddenly, a menacing figure emerged from the darkness, brandishing a weapon and pointing it at you specifically.

"Your bag. Now. And you little boyfriend, stay where you are. Or she gets it!" Fear gripped your heart, but Simon's protective instincts kicked in. His eyes narrowed, his muscles tensed. He didn’t move but he kept his cold gaze on the man who was in a very bad shape. He couldn’t stay still and was scratching the arm that is holding the gun and his head. His eyes were red and you could tell that he would immediately shoot you if Simon moved.

"You don’t want to do this mate. Leave now. Don’t tempt me" Simon‘s voice was filled with pure anger and hate. If he had the chance, he would jump him right now. But he couldn’t risk it. He knew that this man would pull the trigger at you. So he didn’t move.

"I‘m not your mate. Do as I say, bitch." the mans focus was on you now and Simon took the chance to push you to the ground. The mans reaction response was slow but he still pulled the trigger which left you in shock. You couldn’t move and Simon‘s heart was breaking into a million pieces at the sight of you being shocked and scared. But he had to protect you first. He would comfort you as soon as he took down the threat. He was too focused on you that he didn’t feel the bullet that pierced into his arm.

With swift and calculated movements, Simon ran towards him, using every skill he possessed to just knock out the man so the police could deal with him. He ignored the burning in his arm and with only one punch he send the man to a sweet slummer.

Breathing heavily, Simon turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern. He reached out, his hands gentle and steady, offering you a reassuring touch. In that simple gesture, you felt his unwavering support and knew that you were not alone. "You’re okay now, sweetheart. Look at me"

"Simon. Your arm" you whispered, still in shock. Your eyes were wide but his eyes were so soft.

“I‘m okay, love. Nothing I can’t handle. Come here" he took you in his arms and called the police and price to report what just happened. You couldn’t do anything but hug him tight and hold his bloody arm so he doesn’t lose any more blood. And that’s everything he needs right now. Now that you’re safe, he doesn’t care what happens next.

John MacTavish

You walked beside John and your steps echoing through the quiet streets. The world seemed serene, a peaceful respite from the chaos that defined your lives.

As you reached a desolate park, a sudden chill crept up your spine. Out of the darkness emerged a figure, a sinister glint in their eyes, accompanied by the chilling sound of a knife being unsheathed or the cold presence of a gun.

Panic seized your heart as the assailant's threats hung heavy in the air. Their intentions were clear…your possessions, your safety and even your life were at stake. But amidst the terror that threatened to consume you, John's presence remained steadfast, his gaze unyielding.

"Your bag. Now." The mans voice was loud and clear which left you paralyzed on the spot, next to John.

In that moment, John's cold gaze met the man's eyes, his voice firm and commanding. "You've made a grave mistake, lad," he said, his tone carrying an air of authority that sent shivers down the man’s spine.

With a steely resolve, John refused to back down, knowing that surrendering to fear would only empower the assailant further. He stood tall, his body radiating strength and determination.

"I suggest you leave" John continued, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for negotiation. "Or you'll find yourself in a position you don’t even want to imagine."

Fear crept into the man‘s eyes as they glimpsed the unwavering determination etched upon John's face. Their confidence wavered and doubt crept into their mind. In that moment, the man‘s weapon trembled in their grasp, his initial aggression diminished by the mere presence of John's unwavering resolve.

Sensing the retreat, John took a step forward, his voice a low growl. "Leave now, and count yourself lucky that you encountered me instead of someone with less restraint."

As if awoken from a trance, the man scrambled to escape the grip of fear that gripped his heart. With haste, he fled into the night, disappearing into the depths from which he had emerged.

As the adrenaline began to subside, John turned his attention to you, his expression softened by a mixture of concern and relief. He enveloped you in a protective embrace, his arms a fortress that offered solace and reassurance.

In the aftermath of the harrowing encounter, John's words washed over you, a soothing balm for your shaken spirit. "You're safe," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine care. "I won't let anyone harm you."

John Price

John walked alongside you, his protective presence a comforting shield against the darkness, and his mission now is getting you home safe. As you strolled through the quiet city, unaware of the impending danger lurking nearby, a sense of calm enveloped both of you.

However, fate had a different plan in store. As you neared an empty park a figure emerged from the shadows. Their face concealed, a glimmer of malice danced in their eyes, a knife held menacingly in his grasp. Fear gripped your heart as he spoke but your shock blocked every single word that came out of his mouth.

John, never one to back down in the face of danger, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with resolve. He refused to allow anyone to harm you, to subject you to their wicked whims. With a voice dripping in authority, he tried to intimidate the assailant, hoping to scare them away. But as the seconds ticked by, it became evident that words were not enough to dissuade the desperate individual standing before you. The threat loomed, and John's protective instincts surged within him like a raging tempest.

Without hesitation, he sprang into action, his muscles with years of training and experience. With a fast strike, he delivered a powerful punch that connected with precision, rendering the man‘s unconscious. The danger swiftly subsided, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins refused to relent.

As the man lay unconscious, John turned his attention to you, his eyes filled with concern. He gathered you into his strong, reassuring embrace, offering solace and comfort amidst the chaos that had unfolded. His touch spoke volumes, silently conveying that you were safe now, that he would protect you with every fiber of his being.

Kyle Garrick

You walked alongside Kyle, the night sky casting a veil of darkness over the streets. The two of you were talking about his recent conversation he had with Price about how he sees life and the comforting weight of his arm around your shoulders makes you feel safe.

As you neared an empty park, Kyle saw a man coming out behind a tree and in his hand, he brandished a weapon, a stark reminder of the danger that loomed before you.

Fear coursed through your veins as the man‘s demands echoed in the night. "Both of you. Your wallets. Now!" Your heart was pounded in your chest and you instinctively hide behind Kyle.

"Fuck off, man. You think you can scare us like that?" Kyle tried to scare off the man but he clearly didn’t give a fuck. "I‘m serious man. Leave or I‘ll make you leave" Kyle‘s voice is getting colder and he clearly is getting impatient. The man stood still, not saying a single word.

In a split second, Kyle got too impatient and with a swift movement, he delivered a powerful punch, his fist connecting with the man‘s jaw, sending him falling backward. The man's grip on his weapon faltered, the threat momentarily subdued.

As the man crumpled to the ground, Kyle wasted no time in rushing to your side, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. The adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you clung to him, finding solace in the strength and love that radiated from his presence.

"It's okay, you're safe now," Kyle whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil in your mind. His touch was gentle, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back, grounding you in the reality that you were no longer in danger.

[sunrisecaminus]

You can’t imagine the excitement when I saw that the requests are open!

Can I ask for a military Air Force reader who’s fighter jet is the same as starscream (f-16) and when one day when reader is doing some training they see another fighter jet zooming beside them as the don’t know what or where this unauthorized and unidentified aircraft that is flying beside them and making loops midair, that is when one day the reader crashes and mistakes starscream vehicle mode as their own so when reader tried to get inside they are surprised as the are met with a lanky alien fighter jet, that is when the start getting closer as they comfort one another as they share the same burden of (relatively) abusive superiors (reader doesn’t know that starscream deserves it)

I love fumblescream sm 🫶✨

Message - Bro, this is so funny. Starscream is such a little menace. I cannot stand him...but also I want to be his friend for real! Also I just realized you wanted the reader to fly in him and not find him in the sky. My bad sorry, but hopefully how they met is still good and intense. That was my bad.

Starscream x Airforce Pilot Reader

Summary - Starscream manipulates you in to pitying him and to keep you...hopefully Starscream doesn't get attached to you and stays on the coarse of using you as bait in the future.

Warnings - None

You kept your jet well kept. Man, was it a beaut! The love you had for your jet was like someone with their car. Flying whenever you can was everything you could ask for. It was your turn to fly around Jasper and than fly back to the Air Force base. Understanding that you are in an F-16, this was a fighter jet. If anything happened while flying, you were there to defend the sky and the people below you. Knowing you have power in the sky, helps you feel safe and lets you swirl around the clouds with ease. Jasper was a small town, so for you, it was just a little spec on the ground. You yourself lived in the base, so you never really visited Jasper. It was known to be nice and quiet, that being said, you were told it has gotten a bit more important around this time of year. Your Sargent told you that there has been spotting of extra terrestrials and to keep your eyes out on what is going on. One of the government agents has been going around and telling pilots not to scout in Jasper, stating it was just a waste of time and to look at other places, but none of your buddies listened because he didn't have the authority over y'all. It did scare you a bit, knowing that the government had you all sign contracts that if you see anything peculiar, just report your findings and never talk about it outside your group.

U-turning to go back to base, you feel like something else was in the air with you. Your jet scans that an object was above you and near your aircraft, so you start to turn a different direction and look up. Not only do you see a giant shadow in the clouds, but it looked like a jet. Immediately you go in defense mode, knowing that none of your pilot friends are out here with you…unless they took off without reporting. You grab the radio and turn it on to connect to the plane above you.

"This is Dodger speaking, you are in Jasper Airforce Skies. State your name and purpose soldier." You wanted to be calm about it, not wanting to yell at them yet. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding, that is what it usually is anyway. The aircraft above you lowers and flies to the left of your jet. It was the exact same model as yours, but had weird red and grey colors. This must be a private owned jet, but who would fly this close at such dangerous speeds. You talk into the radio again. "I will not repeat myself. You are in territory of the military and I need your name and badge citizen!" This couldn't be anyone you are friends with. Every jet color is different and you haven't seen those types of designs before. The F-16 swirls around your aircraft and nose dives to the ground. You panic, thinking the person lost control of their jet and you nose dive with them. Before you could say anything, they twirl around and go back to flying straight, landing in the forest. All you could think of is them landing in one of the trees, so you land in the plains area, trying to run for the trees as fast as you can. Yes, they maybe stupid, but that doesn't matter if they are severely injured.

Running over, you see a giant shadowy figure in the forest, one that was as tall as the trees. You stop in your tracks and look up at the big creature that was before you. The jet seemed to have transformed into some kind of alien. Only reason you knew it was the jet was because of the colors and the wings that the creature had…oh no you were talking to the things that they warned you about in the base. The alien could tell you were terrified and sees that you were going to book it back to your jet. He grabs onto your body and lifts you up with ease, making you feel like it was over for you. "Hey! Put me down! I'm sorry I was only doing my job!" This was the only thing you could scream, what if it didn't even understand? This alien was not like the media ever said, it wasn't even a UFO.

Starscream looks at your pathetic form. Dang it, he got caught by a human…well he could just kill them if it wasn't for the interesting jet it was flying. He could see that is was the exact same frame type he had which intrigued him about what you were doing up there. Only pilots who fly those are told to fight anything dangerous in the sky…at least…that is how he was taught. He turns you to face him and smirks. "Now, what is a human like you doing up in the air where they don't belong? Don't you humans die from not breathing in your air?" From how he is speaking to you, it seems he knows your language well and so you spoke up a bit better. "We have invented ways to travel outside our comfort zones, but I should be the one to ask questions! My boss would kill me if he knew I didn't get any info out of you guys on why you are here!" This seems to put Starscream a bit on edge. Oh? Humans also seem to have a terrible culture on horrible masters. His smirk falters and gives you a bit of a scowl. "Really? Well I guess this will get complicated then, because my lord would want me to kill you."

This seems to terrify you and it made you start to struggle in his claws. "Well please don't! You could just lie and say you did! I promise not to tell!" He chuckles at you begging for mercy. It was quite nice being on the other end, but he knew you would tell someone. Starscream knows where you are coming from, understanding that he has been in the same position you are in now and sits. "Why don't you lie then? You could just say I wasn't here and you went home." You nervously look down at the ground. That was going to be an issue from how the military works, but you didn't know how to explain that to this giant thing. "I record all my adventures to give to my boss. Otherwise I would be demoted for leaving some crucial details that could "cost lives". Your sergeant sucked, really he did. It felt like he was the reason you couldn't be promoted anytime soon and it was pissing you off. The angry face you gave made Starscream realize he just met a human version of himself. Well, kind of. honestly he didn't notice any revenge or assassination vibes on you, so he was going to keep his intentions on the down low. "I feel the same way! Sometimes I wish he could just see how much I do for him. All I want for him to say how good I do!" You felt bad for him after he explains his situation. What you didn't know was that he was not telling you the full story, but it didn't matter. You felt pity for this out of world creature and it made you realize you just made friends with someone no one would believe you met. You look up at him and have your hand support your head a little to lean forward. "Sorry to hear about that, sir. Don't you just wish you could never see them again? I hate when they make your life a living hell." Starscream had so many evil thoughts in his head right now, but again, he felt like he couldn't just tell this random human everything he wants to do to Megatron. Honestly you seemed like a good pet to have around to talk to.

He stands back up again and looks at your jet, than back at you. "What if I told you…that I could give you everything you ever wanted and not have to work again?" He made it seem like it was so easy, so you laugh in his face on such a question. You see that he was not joking, which made you shut up. "You can't be serious? I mean, I wish…but why would you do that for someone like me? I am not that important." Starscream will never admit how much that broke his spark. It was something he felt long ago before he got the power he has now…and it made him realize even if you said no, you were now going to be his little pet for now on. This was going to be very interesting, hopefully Airachnid doesn't find out or he would be screwed.

[whateveriwant]

Hey! I love your writing so much, and I was wondering if you could do 141 HCs with an albino GN!reader? Or a reader with tics but not tourettes? Either or!! Have a lovely day!

I'm sorry it took me a little while to get to this, anon! I went with the second option!

Ghost

Can you say 'twinsies'? Because Ghost definitely can 👯‍♀️

I can totally see Ghost having tics of his own – motor ones specifically, mostly confined to his face, but you wouldn't know it because they're always hidden by his masks

Thus, when he first notices you ticking, he immediately clocks it for what it is and he (almost giddily) thinks to himself 'Finally! Someone who gets me'

Because of this, he quickly becomes your second shadow, following you around everywhere like a little big puppy

Naturally, he'll get incredibly protective over you, especially when it comes to people who stare or make comments under their breath or even outright approach you and ask something rude regarding your tics

If he catches anyone doing anything of the sort, then he goes into scary dog mode real quick: arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side, an intimidating silence as he glares with a gaze so menacing it could melt steel

Price

With a man as sharp and attentive as Price, much like Ghost, he takes instant notice of your tics

And as protective as Price is, he'd probably get fairly concerned about you to the point where he even pulls you aside one day to have a little chat

He knows that… tics, he thinks they're called, aren't necessarily indicative of anything health-wise, but he just wants to make sure that you're okay; that there isn't anything he can do for you

Even after assuring him that you're perfectly fine and healthy and good, that doesn't stop him from looking out for you like you're his own flesh and blood

Similar to Ghost, if he sees anyone staring or making snide comments about you, then he's definitely going to step in and shut that down

However, rather than giving them an I'll tear your spine out through your throat look à la Ghost, he'll mutter something in their ear – the specifics of which you're unsure, but it always has them making a swift, shaky-legged departure

Gaz

While he too notices your tics, Gaz would never ever mention them out of respect for you and your privacy

He would wait for you to be the one to bring it up, should you ever choose to, that is. And if you never do, well, that's a-ok to him. Whatever you're willing to divulge, he'll be there waiting without pressure or judgment

However, if you were to talk to him about it (and thus invite a conversation) then prepare yourself for a barrage of questions

He doesn't ask them meaning to be offensive or intrusive or whatever; he's simply curious. He just wants to get to know you well, and that means knowing what makes you uniquely you

Unlike the other 141 men, if he notices someone bothering you about your tics, he's not going to directly (more like aggressively) confront them over it

Instead he'd harmlessly distract them, drawing their attention onto himself until they've completely forgotten all about their interest in bugging you

Soap

This man, bless his heart, would be totally, astoundingly oblivious of your tics even if they punched him in the face

In fact, the closer you become with him, the more he finds himself unconsciously start to mimic them

Kind of like when you like someone and so you start mirroring their movements/patterns of speech? Yeah, it's like that but with your tics

Of course, if you were to say something about it (and especially if you said it made you uncomfortable), he'd immediately apologize, explain how he wasn't even aware he was doing it, and make sure he never does it again

Like with Ghost and Price, if Soap noticed someone being rude towards you, he'd go into guard dog mode, but he is the most feral by far

He'd be all up in their face, furious, practically foaming at the mouth as he yells to "Mind yer own fuckin' business while you've still got workin' legs to mind with!" … only to turn to you afterwards all sunshine and rainbows like he didn't just tear that person a new one 😇

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

🐾 Feral Vampire You x William Afton Headcanon – You Are Just a Little Beast™ 🦇 (Unlike most vampires, you doesn’t become suave, elegant, or hypnotic... Instead, you is feral—snarling, hissing, moving on all fours if necessary to get your prey. William would expect something tragic and dark like in a dramatic film or vampire romance novel, and then—here you are, biting anyone who dares to touch you and sucking their blood.)

so imagine this

🎭 William EXPECTED: A Dark, Tragic Vampire Arc

William, in his dramatic mind, assumed your transformation would be all brooding, elegance, and tragic poetry.

He was fully prepared for you to start wearing Victorian outfits, sipping blood from crystal glasses, and speaking in riddles.

Maybe you’d lean in close, whispering in a low, hypnotic voice, "I hunger for you, William..."

But NO. What does he get?

🦇 William GOT: A Feral Little Beast™

You don’t walk—you prowl.

You don’t drink blood with dignity—you latch onto people like a wild animal.

You hiss and snarl at anyone who gets too close. You bite first, ask questions never.

The first time he tries to calmly approach you, you dive at him like a rabid raccoon.

He barely dodges, adjusting his suit. "Alright. So we’re doing this the hard way."

You move on all fours when you’re hunting. ALL. FOURS.

One time, William wakes up at night, and you’re just crawling across the ceiling.

He almost has a heart attack.

"Oh, for God’s sake—WILL YOU STOP THAT."

You just blink at him like a little gremlin before scurrying away into the shadows.

💀 You Bite FIRST, Think Later

If someone even slightly annoys you? CHOMP.

A guy bumps into you at a bar? Instant bite attack.

Someone grabs William’s wrist too hard? You’re already sinking your fangs in.

No one is safe.

Not even William.

"Did you just bloody BITE me?!"

"You smell good."

"I— THAT IS NOT AN EXCUSE!"

🏃 The Time You Tried to Hunt William

In full FERAL mode, your brain short-circuits one night and decides that William = prey.

He’s sitting in his office, minding his business. Suddenly?

The lights flicker.

You’re crouched in the doorway. Watching. Waiting.

"Oh, brilliant. My own partner has turned into a bloody cryptid."

He doesn’t take you seriously—until you LUNGE at him.

He BOLTS.

William Afton, a grown man, is now sprinting through the halls, being chased by you.

You are on all fours.

You hiss whenever he turns corners too fast.

"I am NOT about to be eaten alive in my own building!"

"DON’T RUN. IT MAKES IT FUNNER!"

🌙 Eventually, You Become Clingy Instead of Feral

After your bloodlust settles, you go from hunter to clingy menace.

You start nuzzling against William instead of biting.

Instead of attacking people, you just wrap your wings around William possessively.

"Mine."

"Yes, yes, you batty menace. I know."

You STILL hiss at people you don’t like, but now you do it while curled up in William’s lap.

William still sighs every time you do something unhinged, but at this point?

He’s accepted it.

You’re his feral little vampire now.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

Their outfits from early concept art.

These designs are a little rusty, but I'm too emotionally attached to just let go...

So, B2 and Hunter wear these clothes during Season 1, which starts around the time B2 meets Hunter and ends when she enters "resting mode" for the next three years.

Bee's dress is actually a gift from the technician (Camille) who activated her, and despite the fact she lost all memories about them after the war, B2 never stopped wearing it due to some "unknown deep attachment".

Hunter enjoys dramatic entrances as much as he enjoys western movies. With the mask on and the hat casting a shadow over his face, he looks more menacing than he actually is.

Also, fun fact: B2 and Hunter's bond began with a very peculiar interaction: sharing a tangerine fruit.

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 8: The Remedy For Bad Dreams

Content warning: dubious consent, smut, fingering, masturbation, angst at the end, Sukuna is a menace

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

Ruby - Tweaker It’s No Good - Depeche Mode

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

The sound of your own screams jolts you upright, yanking you from the grip of your nightmare.

Pain floods your body, leaving you stiff and tense. Your muscles and jaw so tightly wound that you fear they might be locked in place. The tension only intensifies as you realize Sukuna is standing in your chambers.

“What are—” Your voice falters, and you clear your throat. “What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, Sukuna lets the question hang in a drawn-out, heavy silence.

Nerves and instinct drive you to grip the cotton sheets, pulling them tightly around yourself. 

He stands across the darkened room, leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. The faint light that filters through the narrow window casts shadows, accentuating the tendons and veins in his forearms and the stark lines of his face.

Those crimson-red eyes are fixed, scrutinizing you. Four flames that refuse to yield. And as always, they make you feel vulnerable.

Briefly, you wonder if perhaps he didn’t hear your question. But the subtle twitch of his jaw and the rhythmic tap of a forefinger against his bicep betray his awareness.

Shit.

You swallow hard.

Badum, badum, badum.

Inside your chest, your heart seems to beat with a rhythm of its own.

Sukuna stands before you, half-naked. His bone-white hakama hangs low, revealing the contours of his hip bones and tendons. Your gaze lingers a little too long on the defined lines where his skin meets the fabric, the contours disappearing beneath the garment.

In an instant, the words of your attendants come flooding back to you: Sukuna is rough, not gentle, and takes what he wants all for himself. Has every disregard for his lover’s pleasure. His dual cocks.

No. Don’t think about that…

You avert your gaze, staring down at your lap to hide the heat that is surely igniting across your cheeks.

In three long strides, his bare feet tap against the wooden floor as his imposing form moves with a disturbing grace to stand at the end of the futon.

The sudden motion forces you to crane your neck, straining to look up at him.

He is every bit a living, breathing weapon—cold, sharp, and seemingly untouchable. A terrifying presence. A presence looming over you in the middle of the night in your chambers.

You swallow again, struggling to clear the lump in your throat.

“Why are you here, my Lord?” you repeat softly, trying to infuse your voice with as much gentleness as you can muster.

At your delicate words, you finally see a reaction. Sukuna’s upper lip twitches, and a mischievous grin slowly spreads across his face.

“Since my wife’s screaming was such a delightful wake-up call,” he drawls, “I thought I’d come and check on her.”

If the devil could smile, it would mirror this very expression of Sukuna’s perfectly.

“I see,” you respond, shifting uncomfortably. “Forgive me for asking, but why did that involve you watching me while I slept?” You try to keep your tone even, masking the underlying accusation.

He cocks his head slightly, his expression unchanged.

“Don’t read too much into it. I was only here for a moment, but I’ll admit it was amusing to see you cry out in distress,” he replies flatly.

Inwardly, you scoff at the sadistic nature of his words but choose to remain silent.

The room falls into a dead quiet once more. The only sound that pierces the stillness is the distant chirping of crickets outside the window, signalling the gradual shift from summer to autumn. It serves as a reminder that you have just over a month and two weeks left to kill him.

Something shrinks in the space of your chest.

Simple. This task should have been simple, but this demon has proven to be more trying.

“Since you have so graciously interrupted my rest, you might as well indulge me,” Sukuna’s deep voice cuts through your anxious thoughts.

He strides over to the chair tucked in the corner, pulls it out with a soft scrape, and drags it next to the futon. He places it directly beside you, in what he evidently considers the perfect spot.

Sukuna sinks into the chair, settling in with a casual ease.

His legs are spread wide, his lower arms resting inward while his upper arms drape over the armrests. His posture is one of complete relaxation, making it clear that he has no intention of leaving anytime soon.

Troubling.

“What exactly would you like me to indulge you with, my Lord?” you ask cautiously.

Sukuna fixes you with a lazy smile.

“Tell me about your dream—or your nightmare. Whatever had you making such pitiful noises.”

He scratches his chin and leans back further into the chair, adopting a regal, almost imperious air.

Asshole.

You grind your teeth, stare up at the ceiling, and let out a soft, resigned exhale.

Lie to him.

Basing the dream on a kernel of truth gives it authenticity. A half-lie is better than nothing. Commit to it. He’ll never know, so it shouldn’t matter.

“It was about my mother,” you murmur, your fingers curling tightly around the sheets.

Sukuna’s eyes narrow slightly. “What about her?”

You shift on the futon, feeling the warmth rise beneath your yukata.

The incident of her death is a topic rarely spoken of. After accidentally causing her death, you and your sister avoided discussing it, while your father wielded it as a weapon against you. It remains a taboo subject, a source of deep shame that hits and smothers you like an avalanche for days after.

“Her death,” you begin, pausing as the words try to catch in your throat. You fidget with your hands, digging your nail into your thumb. “I was there when she died.”

Sukuna stares at you, unblinking.

“A death of a family member, how tragic,” he says with a hint of mockery, but his tone turns low and measured. “What happened?”

Now is the time for your lie.

“She died in childbirth.”

He offers no reaction. Face unreadable. Red orbs like stone.

“How long ago?”

“Seven years.” It’s the truth.

“So, when you were nothing more than a little pup then,” he remarks with a petty edge, as if being eighteen years of age when it happened is somehow insignificant.

You don’t respond.

Sukuna drags a hand through his pink hair, the muscles of his abdomen shifting and contorting around the closed slit of his stomach maw. The movement is distracting, and you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the enigma that is his mask on the right side of his face.

“Is that all?” he questions, his chin tilted as he peers down at you.

No, you're also present in the dream.

“Yes, my Lord, that is all.”

Sukuna rests his elbow on the armrest, his right fist propped against his face as he eyes you.

“Then I expect you to address your sleep issues. I’m not going to tolerate your nightly wailing.”

“Of course, I apologize for waking you,” you reply quickly. “I was considering asking Uraume to prepare a sleeping draft.” You offer this solution in hopes he’ll approve.

“No,” he dismisses your suggestion curtly, and you frown. “They have better things to do than make a draft for you every night.”

Of course. They were probably too busy preserving bodies for him to consume.

“Alright, then perhaps—”

“I have a better suggestion,” he interrupts, leaning forward with a dangerous smile.

Something rings in your mind, like a warning, like he’s leading you down an unknown path that you're bound to become lost on.

“And… what is your suggestion, my Lord?” you ask with hesitancy.

The corner of Sukuna’s mouth curls into a deeper smirk, his expression fiendish, canines flashing.

“The body relaxes after finding release.”

Adrenaline and panic races through your veins.

You subtly wet your lips and try to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat, feeling it dry and stick.

“I—I don’t understand,” you murmur.

He clicks his tongue, lowering his arm with a dismissive gesture.

“Ah yes, my wife, the prude,” he sneers. “Are you so naive that you don’t even know how to touch yourself?”

His words make your skin flush, his scrutiny cutting. You do know how, though it’s not something you often engage in.

“Yes. I know,” you manage to force out.

“Is that so? How often?”

You blink several times, the weight of his intrusive questioning makes you shrink back.

“I’m not sure. Not very often… just a handful of times, I suppose.”

Sukuna glances down at his four hands, as if the concept of a “handful” is entirely different from his own.

“Be more specific, brat. Elaborate.”

“I-I don’t really know. Maybe a couple. Two or three times a year, perhaps?” You ramble, your discomfort evident.

Masturbating was rare for you. Naturally, your aversion to physical contact—both touching and being touched—significantly dampened your enjoyment. Despite this, you could admit that when you did indulge, it sparked a curiosity for more, but was never fulfilled.

“A couple?” Sukuna scoffs, eyebrow cutting upward. “Why so infrequent? Don’t you enjoy your own cunt?”

Your throat tightens as his probing questions become increasingly discomfiting. You shift your gaze away, unable to meet his eyes.

“No, it’s not that I dislike it,” you explain, struggling to articulate your unease. “It’s just that physical conta—touching—is somewhat of an issue for me.”

Don’t admit that, you idiot.

“Even when it comes to yourself?”

“Sometimes.”

Stop it.

“Is that why you insistently wear those gloves?”

Stop revealing so much.

“For the most part.”

What the fuck are you doing?

Sukuna falls silent, his gaze lingering first on your hands, and finally on your face for what feels like an eternity. The prolonged stare makes you shift again on the futon.

A knowing look starts to crawl across his face.

The silence stretches for a heartbeat longer before he breaks it.

“Show me.”

What?

“My Lord, I don’t understand.”

He huffs out a breath in frustration.

“You have dragged me out of my sleep with your screaming. I expect you to address this issue so we don’t encounter it again,” he says, leaning back. “Touch yourself. Show me how you find pleasure when you're alone.” He watches intently as your composure begins to slip.

Your heart races as you open your mouth to speak, but his raised eyebrow warns you against protesting.

“I—”

“You know how much I hate repeating myself, wife. I’ll say it once more, so it sinks in. Touch yourself. I won’t leave this room until you cum.” He tilts his head pointedly to where your lower body is hidden beneath the sheets.

Your cheeks flush with a mix of hesitation and frustration.

“I can’t possibly do that with you here.”

He looks at you as if you're a moron.

“Tch, you're hopeless. Just pretend I’m not here,” he sneers, as if it's feasible for you to ignore the King of Curses sitting an arm's length away. “Close your eyes. Fill your mind with something pleasant only you can enjoy.” Sukuna settles deeper into the chair, his massive legs extending as if preparing for a show.

Something pleasant.

For you, it meant the smallest gestures—soft kisses and gentle touches. These were things you had only seen or heard about in passing, which you often thought about at night. On the rare occasions when you let your guard down, you’d bury your hand between your thighs, lost in these fleeting thoughts.

Straightening up on the futon, you glance at Sukuna, hoping he might decide to leave so you could—

“I’ll wait here all night if I must,” he says, casually tucking one ankle over the other. “And if you try to fake it, I’ll know.”

Fucking arrogant man.

Mentally, you resolve that when the day finally comes and you succeed in killing him, you will take a moment beforehand to enumerate everything you dislike about him.

His cockiness, his cruelty, his stupid charisma, face, eyes, body, arms, legs, hands.

“My Lord, if I do this…” you murmur, lowering your eyes. “Will you stay there, unmoving?”

A low chuckle rumbles from his throat.

“Oh, come now. Don’t you trust me?” His tone is filled with menace. You look back at him, eyes narrowing.

Trust him?

In your mind, you're giving him the best death stare you can muster.

“Why would I ever trust you?” The words come out more unrefined than intended.

His upper right eye twitches.

Silence.

“You're wasting time,” he says dismissively, ignoring your question.

You let out a shaky breath and tilt your head forward, trying to avoid Sukuna's gaze.

“Fine,” you mumble, smoothing the sheets between your fingers as a distraction.

The same mantra that got you through your first night at the shrine returns to you.

You must stay. You have to do this.

You swallow, shut your eyes and lay back in surrender.

The soft coverings draped over you pull away first, and the cool night air brushes against your skin. Goosebumps rise beneath your garment.

Guiding a shaky hand down to the hem of your yukata, you slowly lift it to reveal just your thighs. The exposure sends your heartbeat racing with humiliation. You have never done anything like this before, and you intend to show him nothing more than your thighs. There’s no way in hell you're lifting your yukata any further. You will cling to your modesty for as long as you can.

The sound of creaking wood to your left makes you freeze.

You open your eyes and glance in that direction.

Sukuna remains seated in the chair, which is a small relief. However, you notice he has leaned forward slightly, his red eyes tracing the length of your body in the dim light.

You squeeze your eyes shut again.

Get this over with, find your release, get the demon out of here.

Something pleasant.

You once witnessed a brazen display of intimacy at one of your clan gatherings. A man attended to a concubine with a sensual touch, kissing the underside of her jaw, her neck, and her collarbone. The way he caressed and worshipped her was so tender that you saw her eyes close in a moment of submissive bliss.

You understood that such an experience was something you would never have yourself, but that was fine. You had the memory—something to reflect upon, just as you're now.

You hadn't realized it, but your hands had already begun drifting across your clothed breasts. Your fingertips gingerly graze the fabric, slowly making their way to your nipples. As you trace over the nubs, you press firmly, causing them to harden, and a pleasant warmth gradually spreads throughout your body.

Your hands gently slide down until they reach the tops of your thighs. You then carefully begin to part them, moving with deliberate slowness.

At first, there's a sense of reluctance, hesitation that makes you feel uneasy. Despite this initial discomfort, one of your hands eventually slips beneath the hem of the garment.

Your mind drifts back to the memory, recalling how the concubine reacted. You remember her soft moaning as her lover's hand glided over her feverish skin. The way the man’s arousal bulged beneath his clothing and how her delicate fingers traced its length, eliciting deep groans from him.

That was all you saw before they were ushered away to a private location. In a way that feels almost pathetic, just fantasizing about it was enough to make you feel aroused.

As your mind fills with your something-pleasant thoughts, your fingertips gradually reach your damp folds. You take a deep breath and gently dip them in.

A low sigh escapes you at the contact.

Every tense muscle begins to relax as you press your fingertips to your swollen clit. Your heightened sensitivity means that even a few small, tight circles are enough to spread a shiver across your body.

It’s almost absurd how quickly you might start cumming.

With each back-and-forth of your fingers, you throb harder, skin heating. You begin to grind your thighs together for more friction, soft little pants escaping your mouth.

You hear Sukuna take a deep exhale but choose to ignore it, focusing instead on your approaching release.

As you get closer, a pleasant warmth begins to reach and unfurl inside your belly.

Back and forth, faster, more pressure.

The impending climax causes your brows to furrow and your eyes to flutter into a soft squint.

When you open them again, you see four heavy-lidded eyes fixed on your trembling form as you lose yourself in this rare moment of ecstasy.

Sukuna’s hands are clenched into tight fists as though struggling to stay anchored in the damn chair.

The expression on his face makes you screw your eyes tightly shut once more.

Back and forth, harder. Spreading the wetness onto your fingers and inner thighs. Your sex clenches. You're right on the precipice of cumming.

The room tilts as your back starts to arch involuntarily. You bite the inside of your cheek, struggling to stifle a moan that is desperate to escape.

Any moment now.

You press your heels into the plush futon, thighs clenching and grinding tightly together.

You're going to cum. You're going to—mouth dropping open, a needy moan drags out of you.

“Ahh!”

“Fuck.” Sukuna breathes.

Suddenly, added weight presses down on the futon, and the hand that was under your garment rubbing your engorged clit is yanked away, denying your orgasm.

Your eyes snap open.

Sukuna's gigantic figure kneels before you. Despite the dim light in the room, you can see his eyes wide with an intense, almost ravenous hunger, like a man starving. His upper left hand grips your wrist tightly.

“W-wait,” you sputter, sitting up in a daze and trying to break free.

"Tsk.”

As you make the effort, Sukuna's right upper hand swiftly grabs your other wrist, pinning both your arms to the futon. The sudden pressure forces you back down, and you gasp sharply as your back hits the sheets. In an instant, he moves to hover above you.

In this closeness, the two of you stop moving.

He looks down at you, chest rising and falling, while you look up at him, trembling.

As he leans in closer, the space between your bodies evaporates. You take in the sight of his four eyes, the fire within them, and the ripple pattern almost entirely swallowed by darkness.

His red gaze falls to the junction of your thighs while his lower right hand moves to the hem of your garment and takes hold of it. His eyes return to your flushed face, and the fabric begins to lift.

Your sense of vulnerability causes your breathing to quicken, drawing in the heavy scent of his musk, thick with iron and smoke. It fills your senses, muddling your mind. 

Sukuna.

“My Lord,” you whisper, voice sounding small.

As your soft, almost desperate words reach him, a crooked grin slowly stretches across his lips.

“Shh,” he coos. “I’m just going to help you overcome your fear of being touched.”

Your face pales at his words, a wave of shame washing over you as you regret having revealed so much to him.

With nervous eyes, you watch as he slowly continues to pull the garment up, exposing your hips, then navel. His gaze follows the movement with unwavering focus, eventually settling on your cunt.

His eyes darken to char, and a deep rumble emanates from his chest at the sight of your slick folds. He takes in the sight with hunger in his eyes, as if he's been waiting for this moment.

“Look how fucking wet you are,” he growls, licking his bottom lip before leaning his face closer to your core. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch in horror, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep, deliberate inhale, savouring you. 

“Mmmhn,” he purrs, his smile lit with smug satisfaction. “I wonder what you will taste like.”

Without warning, the maw on his abdomen opens wide, and the wet tongue emerges, panting and drooling as if spurred on by the scent of your arousal.

A thrum of fear unfolds inside you at the sight of the large, glistening muscle and feel the warm breath puffing against your tender flesh. You flinch and let out a soft whimper, instinctively trying to push yourself away by pressing your heels into the futon. However, his grip on your wrists is a vice. Sukuna’s eyes lock onto yours with a warning, and you freeze in place.

Darkness envelops you as he crowds you even closer.

You try to draw in a breath, but the air feels suffocatingly elusive. His massive body occupies every bit of available space, his presence overwhelming, all-consuming.

Drowning, you're drowning in him.

His lower hands move to your legs, sliding along them, dimpling the skin as he goes. Reaching your inner thighs, blunt nails poke into your heated flesh as he spreads and manipulates them. All you can do is watch as they open wider, wider—so much wider before he settles between them.

His lower right hand reaches toward the ankle he injured and healed. You flinch at the touch and the memory. His hand momentarily stills.

He exhales with a huff.

“I’m not going to hurt you, brat,” he grunts, almost as if trying to convince himself that he’s not a monster.

He presses his thumb down, tracing slow, soothing circles along the gentle curve of where he had hurt you. The gesture is unexpectedly tender, leaving you feeling confused and an urge to pull away. 

The action is short-lived before he wraps his hand tightly around your calf, bends your leg to the side, and slots his knee gently against your inner thigh, keeping it open. His lower left arm shifts to guide your other leg upward, hooking it over the crook of his elbow.

Pleased with the sight of your helpless body partially dangling above the futon, spread open and at his mercy, he ceases his movements, taking the time to admire you.

His four greedy eyes wander, taking in every inch of your thighs and hips but lingering most on the throbbing center between your legs.

You turn your anxious face away from his gaze, but he presses his upper right hand to the side of your face, its size overwhelming as he brings you back to him.

“Look at me, don’t look away,” he commands. “I want to see those timid eyes you always look at me with.”

As you look up at him through your lashes, you feel your walls start to crumble.

“There you are.” His voice is smooth as he runs his thumb along your cheek before sliding it down your jaw and bringing it away to rest against your slit. His index and middle fingers graze your wetness, but he pauses, leaving them there. Seeing them rest against your skin, you realize how big they are compared to yours.

A contemplative expression crosses his face, soon replaced by an intense, unrestrained need that sends heat racing up your spine.

Sukuna dips his fingers between your soaking folds.

You exhale raggedly.

Fingers nestled only partially inside, he drags them with lazy precision, up and down. That first touch was like fuel to the fire. Making you dizzy, making your wretched body want to grind your hips to feel more.

But you don’t allow it. You will not allow it.

Drenched in your slick, he withdraws his fingers and places them before the maw on his torso, where the tongue drags across and laps up your essence.

Sukuna tosses his head back.

“Fuck, yes,” he rasps, groaning loudly at the very first taste of you.

The sight of his face tipped back, mouth agape, eyes heavy, has you clenching around nothing.

Oh, god. What the fuck is happening?

Shame attempts to poke a hole in your thoughts at becoming aroused in his feral state.

Your anxiety intensifies, and your overthinking spirals into panic. Control, you need control back.

Desperately, you try to slip free, your restrained hands twitching against the futon as you begin to squirm.

Sukuna refocuses on you, intensifying his grip to keep you immobile. His fingers dig into your wrists, and his imposing form draws nearer. The arm that hooks around your leg presses down, forcing your hips to tilt and folding you nearly in half.

A small squeal escapes you at this compromising angle. Sukuna chuckles low at seeing you in this vulnerable state, pussy directly in his line of vision, completely powerless to him.

Gazing down into your eyes, he presses his index and middle fingers to his mouth, moistening them with saliva. A black tattoo flickers across his tongue, making you wonder where else such markings might be concealed on his perfect bod—

No.

Saliva-coated fingers are guided back to you. Lying on your back, you lift your head from the futon to watch as he presses them against your navel, then slowly drags them down to your folds, leaving a sticky trail behind.

He pauses, maintaining unbroken eye contact.

Your mind races, trying to figure out what the hell he’s about to do next.

If it’s anything your attendants told you, he won’t be pleasuring you. So what—what the fuck is he doing? Because the look in his eyes says everything. It says, 'You have no idea what you have got yourself into, brat.’

Palm flat to your sensitive flesh, he starts to press his middle finger in.

“Wait—”

“Too late.”

He slides it in deep, filling your cunt completely.

A cry breaks from your throat, and you dig your restrained hands to the sheets of the futon, head falling back, writhing against the stretch. Sukuna groans at how you feel around him.

“Tight,” he growls, gripping you possessively. “You're so fucking tight for me.”

His thumb finds its way to your aching clit, and with one subtle swipe, your traitorous body reacts, hips desperately snapping up for more. His eyes flare at seeing you like this, unravelling for him. Desperate to be touched.

“I’m going to enjoy this needy little cunt of yours,” he bites out, grinning arrogantly.

He withdraws his finger. Meeting your eye, he brings both index and middle fingers together before taking his time to slide them both back into your slick pussy. You watch as he buries them all the way to the knuckles on a wet sound.

You bite down on your tongue to keep from desperately begging for more.

He gives you time to adjust, letting you feel how full he can make you before pulling out and pushing back in, back out, back in, back out.

Faster. Harder.

You whine from the ache, clamping and squeezing down on his fingers.

Too much. It’s too much.

The sensation is so overwhelming you try to relieve the ache by closing your thighs, only for Sukuna to push back against you with a grunt. 

He continues driving into you, spearing you faster, setting a brutal pace. Each time he pushes his fingers in, the sound of your slick fills your ears, making you pulsate.

Struggling to stay silent, you feel too ashamed to let your voice reveal the desperation he's causing. You don't want him to hear just how close he is pushing you to the brink of madness.

As if sensing your hesitance, Sukuna presses and curls his two fingers deep inside you. You buck up against him, mumbling a plea, clouded by pleasure.

“Give me more. Let me hear you,” he urges as he leans in, your faces so close, noses almost touching. His upper eyes lock intently on your expressions while his lower pair are enthralled by his fingers disappearing and reappearing inside you.

You shake your head, and his eyes narrow at your reluctance.

“Yes. Stop hiding from me and give me fucking more of you!” he snarls, bearing his teeth and punctuating the words as he drives his fingers in and out, making it burn to sear hot.

“I can’t! Please, i-it’s too much,” you sob, struggling to keep up and unable to hold his eyes any longer. You quickly turn your head away.

“Don’t you dare look away from me,” he commands, moving his lower left hand to cup the side of your face, thumb gripping your jaw roughly, tilting you to meet his gaze.

You give him a pleading look, and his hand, pumping inside of you, slows to a steady pace before stopping.

“Tell me what you need,” his voice drops, becoming gentler. “Use your words, brat.”

Your mind can’t quite function. Words are lost to you, but he wants an answer. 

“Release.” Is all you say, breathlessly, a little unsure of yourself.

“Do you want me to give you the remedy for your bad dreams?” he chuckles lowly, head dipping down to get a better look at you. You give a silent nod, and he smirks, withdrawing his fingers from inside you, making your breath catch at the loss. “Heh, how delightful,” he mocks.

Your face heats, and you go to open your mouth, but his index and middle fingertips find your clit. He doesn’t waste time. He presses down on the swollen nub, drawing slow, steady circles that have you moaning.

Your hips start to shift back and forth in tandem with the motion of his fingers. 

“You like that, don’t you?” he husks. 

“Uh-huh.” You nod eagerly, unable to form words, earning you a devious smile that makes you clench.

His body starts to sway in sync with yours as he adds more pressure, fingers moving faster.

Something wet splatters and drips onto the sheets, and you glance down between the valley of your bodies to see the maw drooling over the space between your thighs.

You barely have time to process the mess before Sukuna grabs a handful of your hair with his lower left hand and yanks your head back, exposing your neck.

You wince as pinpricks of pain dance along your scalp.

He leans in, sticking out the flat of his tongue and traces a long path from your collarbone to the underside of your jaw. The sensation makes your toes curl, making you dizzy.

“Cum for me,” he breathes against your skin, licking, grazing teeth at the underside of your jaw, fingers pressing harder, circling over and over onto your sensitive clit.

Low in your stomach, a warmth coils and constricts, tightening in anticipation.

Your hips start to lift higher to reach his hand, your moans becoming louder. 

Sukuna breathes heavily against your neck before opening his mouth to press his lips against your heated skin. His teeth sink in, breaking the flesh and making you cry out. He pulls back slightly to give the wound a slow, languid lick, then leans back to look down at you. Blood smears across his mouth, which he licks away, enjoying the taste.

With no warning, he gives your overstimulated clit a small swat, then a flick that almost knocks you out but instead has you convulsing under him.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you breathe.

Disoriented and desperate to find something to hold onto, your restrained hands dig into the sheets with such intensity that it’s painful.

Sukuna sees your need for contact and finally relents his hold on your right wrist.

Slowly, he guides your hand to rest at his nape. Your fingers instinctively clutch and press against his skin while your thumb gently wraps around his throat.

You don’t even comprehend what you're doing—that your hand is touching his skin. He’s right there, beneath your fingertips. This is why you came here, why you were forced to marry him.

You can kill him right now. But you don't.

When you come back to yourself, out of the spell he’s put you under, you will regret every moment of this.

But for now, you're too lost, too far gone.

At this very moment, it’s just this. You don’t have a father who fucking despises you, a sister you're trying to protect, or a mother whose death you caused.

It’s just this.

“Don’t stop, p-please, whatever you do, don’t stop,” you babble to him.

“Desperate whore,” he growls, crowding his face into your neck.

His mask grazes you while he licks away any sweat that beads there, fingers working faster, strumming back and forth against that sensitive nub. The sound of your wetness gushes onto him, you, to your inner thighs so loud.

“Soaking us so good, just like I knew you would,” he mumbles and breathes against your ear. 

His upper left hand threads back into your hair, tugging it, forcing you to arch your back into each stroke, legs twitching, tears flooding your bowing eyes, then rolling back. 

Faster. Harder.

“Please!” you whine.

The pleasure you denied yourself for so long crashes down on you. 

On a deep guttural moan, your orgasm rips you apart violently.

“Sukuna!” His name coming from your lips is foreign, and he responds with a low hiss.

“There you go,” he coos, observing how effortlessly you fall apart.

Your hand tightens around his neck, your nails digging into his skin. He groans at the contact, exhaling deeply.

As everything swells and peaks, your cunt clenches.

He withdraws his fingers from your clit to place the flat of his palm against your pussy, just to feel you throb and pulse for him. You buck into it, rolling your hips, rubbing up and down.

“That’s it. Show me how much you needed this.” His voice is so rough and coarse that it makes you grind harder. Mesmerized by your undulating hips, he starts rubbing his palm into the wet release, pooling at your entrance.

You can’t stop moaning, can’t stop shaking, but he keeps you held tightly to him, refusing to let go.

Both of your bodies writhe together, milking your release. Your breathing laboured his fanning against your skin.

Slowly, your hips relax, his palm stops rubbing, and both of you become still.

Silence envelops the room, broken only by the sound of crickets.

Sukuna’s hand rests against you, his face buried in your neck. His warm breath on your skin makes your eyes grow heavy, ready to fall.

Your hand, pressed against his nape, itches to move.

You slide it away, gaze tracking its path as it traces the swell and warmth of muscles on his upper left shoulder.

It feels strange to see your hand on another’s body, to see it on him.

Something pleasant.

As you move your hand down towards his chest, Sukuna’s body tenses. You're drawn to the black ink marking his skin, longing to trace the pattern, to touch him more, to lay your palm flat and feel the rhythm of his—

Sukuna flinches away from you. With jarring speed, he is off the futon and almost across the room in an instant.

You sit up in a panic, his sudden movements snapping you out of your daze as you hurriedly pull your yukata down to cover yourself.

It’s as if he’s been burned, trying to escape from you as quickly as possible, as if touching you had been a big, giant, colossal, irredeemable mistake.

And wasn’t it?

Weren’t you both merely consumed by need, abandoning all reason and rational thought?

Yes.

To him, you're merely a possession—a piece of property bound to him by title alone. He has deliberately taken you from your clan as an act of defiance against your father. And in this volatile dynamic, he is merely a target for you to get close to and kill, or perhaps the reverse…

The way he’s glaring down at you makes your insides twist.

Sukuna appears exactly how he looks in your nightmare. Every detail, right down to the terrible way he tenses as if he’s struggling to hold himself back.

You're certain that he’s about to kill you after dragging you through such agonizing ecstasy and back.

In that moment, you weigh your options: should you prepare to reach for your cursed gift or plead for your miserable life? He can end you from where he stands, while you must touch him to activate your ability. The latter is your only chance.

Because you can’t afford to die just yet, your sister still needs saving. She needs to be protected. You cannot allow your father to destroy her.

Your anxious gaze darts to Sukuna’s upper right hand, dreading the extension of those two fingers that have the power to inflict so, so much damage—those same fingers that were just touching you, feeding you, waking up your entire body.

He steps towards the futon, and you recoil away, staring at him.

His eyes cut, and the furrow between his mask and eyebrow deepens.

One step closer to you, and his index and middle fingers extend.

Panic washes over you.

No!

You sit up.

“Wait, please!” You rasp. It’s a plea and a desperate one at that.

He stops and looks at you with such unbridled disdain that it’s no surprise when you hear him mutter the word “weak” under his breath.

Without another word, he turns on his heel, slides the door open, and slams it shut with a resounding bang.

🔗 Chapter 9

[se-sissy-lina04]

Sissy’s Masterlist

CT-Casa – "Zee & Mephistopheles: The Battle for Attention Begins"

Welcome to the next level of CT-Casa-Chaos:

You have a pet.

But not just any.

You have Mephistopheles.

A black Tooka cat with the character of a Sith Lord, the pride of a Mandalore, and the softness of a night pillow – but only for you.

1. Zee adopts Mephistopheles (aka Mephi)

Found in an alley behind a caf shop during a rainstorm. Hissing at a rat twice his size. Zee respects that.

Jet black, gold eyes, absolute menace. Hates everything. Perfect.

When asked why she named him Mephistopheles, Zee answered:
“Because he’s got the soul of a disgraced Sith lord and the vibe of someone who knocks mugs off tables for fun.”

2. The Arrival: Fear and Fluff

You bring Mephisto home.

In a black transport box. With golden eyes inside. (He is mad because you took him to the vet first.)

The clones: "Ah, cute."

Mephisto: hisses like Darth Maul in the dentist's chair.

Kix wants to pet him –

Two scratches later, he diagnoses himself with emotional trauma.

3. Mephisto belongs to you. Period.

He lies on your lap, purring like a spaceship in idle mode.

You can pet him. He even blinks at you slowly.

But woe to anyone else who tries it.

Mephi HATES the clones. All of them.

Everyone else gets clawed ankles, hissed warnings, and hairballs in their boots.

Jesse: "I think I'm his type." Mephisto jumps on his back and screams dramatically.

Boil: "I gave him tuna!" Mephi took it. And then marked Boil’s shoes.

Fox? Tried it once. Never again. Now wears leather gloves. Always.

Fives tried to pet Mephi once. Mephi screamed, slapped him, and leapt off a wall.

Fives: “He looked me in the eye and judged my entire existence.”

Tech tried analyzing Mephi’s behavior. He got scratched across the nose.

4. The war begins: Petting rights & territory defense

The clones make lists. Tactics meetings.

Cody hangs up a schedule: "15 minutes of petting attempt per man per day."

Mephi tears it down at night and puts it on Jesse's head.

Result: The plan is dead. Jesse has cat hair on his face.

5. Tup is accepted. Maybe.

Tup is calm. Gentle. Smells like tea.

Mephi tolerates him. He is allowed to sit in the same room.

Once – ONCE – Mephi sat down next to him on the couch.

Tup almost cried.

The others have since called him "the Chosen One."

Mephisto tolerates and occasionally sleeps on him. Tup has no idea why, but he’s honored.

Tup brings him treats and calls him “sir”

Mephi accepts these offerings like a dark god.

Tup once knit him a tiny scarf. Mephi wore it. For 30 seconds. Then ate it. Tup still cried from happiness.

6. Mephi LOVES Crosshair.

No one knows why.

He climbs up on Crosshair’s shoulder like a pirate’s familiar, curls up, and purrs so loudly it sounds like a landspeeder.

Crosshair pretends he’s annoyed.

“I don’t like the cat. He’s just quiet and hates everyone. That’s… respectable.”

Mephi once attacked Wrecker for sneezing too close to Crosshair. Wrecker has a scar.

7. The Clones have a group chat called “Cat Threat Level: Red”

It’s all updates like:
“Mephi is in the hallway. Proceed with caution.”
“He stared at Cody for five minutes without blinking. Cody blinked first.”
“Boil stepped on his tail. Pray for Boil.”

8. Night Patrol with Mephisto

You go to bed late? Mephisto accompanies you.

– Hall quiet?

– Shadow moves?

–Fox has the night shift?

Mephi suddenly sits in the hallway, his eyes glowing like a holo-alarm.

Fox calls him "the little Sith."

Mephi hisses.

Fox nods. Respect.

9. Mephi has declared Zee’s apartment his Empire

He sits in the windowsill like a gargoyle.

Every time a clone walks by, he does the slow blink of doom.

He drinks only from Zee’s caf mugs, knocks over clone helmets, and hisses at broom handles.

Fox swears he heard Mephi growl “traitor” under his breath once.

10. Small creature, big emotions

When you're sad, Mephi knows it.

He comes, lies down on your chest, purring your heart back to health.

The clones: "Why YOU and not US?"

You: "Because I'm his mom."

Fives: "Tooka-nepotism."

11. The couch belongs to Mephi. And the bathroom. And the windowsill.

You share.

The clones ask, "May we sit down?"

You: "Ask him."

Jesse: "Come on, cat, don't be such a—"

Mephi strikes with his paw.

Rex murmurs, "Respect for the hierarchy."

12. One day… Mephi accepts someone.

No one knows why.

But one day, Mephisto lets Fives pet him. For exactly 4 seconds.

Fives freezes.

Boil screams: "IT HAPPENED!!"

Kix is filming it.

Fives is wearing a shirt with the screenshot on it:

"He chose me.”

13. Mephisto has a mini helmet.

Echo is crafting it.

Black, with little spikes.

You put it on him. He tolerates it.

Jesse: "Now he really is the Dark Lord."

Mephi: curls up and sleeps on the datapad.

He is terrifying.

He is fluffy.

He is yours.

14. Despite everything, he’s Zee’s baby

Sits on her notes, walks across her holoprojector during lectures, curls on her chest when she’s tired.

She calls him “the only man I trust.” (The boys are offended and pouty.)

Mephi accepts her affection like a royal tax.

15. You are Mephis' home. And they all are too. A little bit.

Mephisto remains your shadow.

But when you're away – at a conference, with family –

You later find holograms:

– Echo, as he quietly reads to him.

– Fox, bringing him food.

– Fives, how he fell asleep next to him.

Mephi is lying there. Like a king.

But his eyes are searching for the door. Waiting for you.

And when you come back – He jumps into your arms.

You are his person.

And the others? Are allowed to witness the happiness.

[akbrain]

WHAT IF... Shadow Milk Cookie was charged for his crimes?

Featuring The Three Sisters & my in-game MyCookie, Akbrain Cookie! (I'm the judge!)

Includes images from Fandom Villains Wiki.

Shadow Milk Cookie stares at Akbrain Cookie, anxious about what was gonna happen next.

Judge Akbrain Cookie: I just cannot believe what I have heard today.

Judge Akbrain Cookie: Multiple counts of mass murder, multiple counts of mass destruction, regicide, torture, mass enslavement.

Akbrain Cookie bangs his arms on the table in rage and throws them in the air in pure anger.

Judge Akbrain Cookie: Shadow Milk Cookie! This is nothing short of outrageous!

Shadow Milk Cookie: Your Honor! Please, just listen to me for a second! You see, what actually happened is-

Akbrain Cookie bangs his hammer on the table, and he shut up.

Judge Akbrain Cookie: NO! Silence! I don't want to hear another peep out of you! It's clear to me that you are a menace to not just the Cookie Kingdom, but Cookiekind as a whole.

Judge Akbrain Cookie: And because of this, I sentence you to death by Plasma Cannon!

Shadow Milk stares at you in absolute shock!

Shadow Milk Cookie: NONONONONOOOOOOOOO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! THIS IS CALLED AN UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT AND I DON'T DESERVE IT!

Judge Akbrain Cookie: Yes you do, you bitch! Psychopathic beasts like you don't deserve to walk this earth! Now, get this disgusting waste of valuable cookie dough out of my sight!

Shadow Milk Cookie: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!

As the police took away Shadow Milk Cookie, Pudding á la Mode Cookie laughs at him in Green Tea's lap!

PALM: Kya ha ha! Serves you right, you MEANIE! Prepare to be eliminated!

1 WEEK LATER, AT THE GCG ARENA...

Akbrain Cookie: Shadow Milk Cookie, you have been charged with multiple counts of mass murder, multiple counts of mass destruction, regicide, torture, and mass enslavement. Because of this, you are sentenced to execution by PALM Cookie's Plasma Cannon!

Choco Drizzle Cookie: Any last words before my little sister executes you?

Shadow Milk Cookie: No! Please! I don't want to die!

Choco Drizzle Cookie: What a shame. Life isn't fair. You might've had a chance if you didn't do what you did.

Choco Drizzle Cookie: Now then, time to say goodbye.

Akbrain Cookie: OK, you're done! My sweet PALM Cookie, DO IT!

PALM: Wa ha ha! Got it, sweet Akbrain Cookie!

PALM: Elimination Mode: ON!

Shadow Milk Cookie: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Shadow Milk Cookie disintegrates within seconds, screaming in agony.

Akbrain Cookie: The deed is done. Good job, PALM Cookie! Give me a hug!

PALM Cookie flies into Akbrain Cookie's arms and squeezes him tightly!

PALM: YIPPEE!