#wip: the key to everything

[heythatcouldbeafunnyuser]

Things I did well in my first wip..

Emotions! The characters feelings were very well written

Made insane thought paths seem logical

This one girl haunted the narrative HARD

Established character friendships that felt genuine

Balanced joy and humor with dramatic adventure

Came up with a pretty frickin cool magic system

Also did a good job of contrasting the worlds that the different characters came from as they all learned more about each other

General concept was super cool also

Things I did NOT do well..

Backstories. Nothing made sense and everything was incredibly cheesy.

The parents. For some reason I decided to write from the mc's parents' povs... I refuse to reread those parts because I just know they were terrible

The villain. This guy's scenes just did not work.

Names. WHY DID I CHOOSE ALL OF THE STUPIDEST NAMES EVER??

The crushes/romance. Me to my former self: Girl you are aroace and have no idea what you're talking about, WHAT ARE YOU DOING???

Plot execution. The vibes were there but the practicals were nowhere to be seen

Also overall it was quite cheesy and painful to read

WHY DID MY CHARACTERS FALL DOWN SO MANY STEEP INCLINES?? (two holes and one cliff that appeared out of nowhere)

I'm so proud of my younger self for working so hard on this story! I don't regret a thing, but I do have some. Thoughts..

[that1notetaker]

Imagine building a family in a terrible world. Some of you die sooner, and you try to make it work. Then everyone, everything is gone, you have less than a minute to process that, and you're alone. Except it's worse! Because your family will be there, but suddenly you're not part of it. The house is in front of you and you don't have the keys.

[horrorfilmlesbian]

you ever just try to have a personal moment (yes. exactly what you think 🤔) and then the object of your not so repressed desires rocks up innocently offering to help.

[annebd]

i was supposed to go to sleep at a decent time tonight. instead, i've spent the past two hours learning how to use work skins in ao3 to do fun fancy stuff. this fic is going to take me approximately 7.4 business years to complete, but omg, look how stinking cool this is!

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton

This week we're circling back to the main WIP through a snippet featuring Cal, Sabrina and her defense of John. *oof* Leslie needs a hug too, for real.

"Drop the weapon and turn around, I won't ask twice." This voice… Sabrina complied, crouching down slowly, one hand discarding her weapon on the ground while the other used the opportunity to pull out her throwing knife out of its holster. "Now turn around.", the gun poked her between her shoulder blades again, and she willed her heart to slow down, refused to let panic overtake her with her life on the line. She stood back up and spun around, in one swift move the blade was at the neck of the man holding her at gunpoint, giving her a leverage after being snuck on. "Technically, you did ask twice, you mo-", the words died in her mouth the second her eyes registered who standing in front of her. "Gray?", Calahan muttered in disbelief as he reached out, removing her cap, "It's you. You… WHAT THE HELL?" "Kid.", Sabrina withdrew her hand, shock washing over her at the realization how close she had been to injuring him and before she could react he had her enveloped in a hug, "You're okay. Thank fuck." Hartley held her at an arm length, eyes full of concern as he examined her all over to confirm his words. "I'm fine, Cal. Seriously.", she let out a relieved laugh as she sheathed her knife and bent back down to pick up her gun, "I should be the one asking if you're okay, I almost stabbed you in your carotid." "Not gonna lie, that was kind of hot.", the remark was followed by one of his usual winks.

Low whimpers behind her paired with paws scratching against metal snapped her back to reality, erasing the smile off her face, "We have to get Boomer out." One carefully aimed shot was all it took for the lock to give way, and Boomer wasted no time, rushing at her and almost knocking her to the ground the second she raised up the door of the cage. "Hey, Boom.", Sabrina crouched down and stroked him on the head, "At least you made it… for once, not everything was in vain." "I can't believe you're here. That you're actually okay. Fuck.", the way his voice shook took her aback, and she couldn't help but send a worried look over her shoulder, finding him staring at her like she would vanish if he lets her out of his sight. Eyes ran over his his denim jacket that had seen better days with a couple of faded crimson stains seeped into the light material, making her hope none the blood was his. A sniper rifle was strapped to his back, his weapon of choice he had used to take out all the Peggies around them shortly before her arrival and save her the trouble of having to face John's men. Now freed, Boomer had quieted down, standing close to her and watching the younger Deputy in anticipation, tail wagging slightly. "Who's a good boy?", he bent down, taking his turn to greet Boomer, then he turned to Sabrina, "Let's go inside, I have so many questions and so much to catch you up on." She winced, "I doubt you'd like anything I would tell you…" Calahan was the first to cross into Rae-Rae's home, his features twisting into a deep frown at the bullet holes marring the walls and doors, and the way the Peggies had wasted no time rummaging through the woman's belongings, strewing anything they hadn't deemed of use to the Project all over the place.

"Ryan?", Sabrina hollered, rushing to search each room, checking underneath the beds and any hiding spot big enough to conceal Rae-Rae's boy. Cal shook his head, "I don't think he's in here, Gray. Haven't see anyone aside from the Peggies and you. When I got to my spot, Rae-Rae was already dead." "Fuck." "Yeah, things are bad, but now that you're here, there's hope. You were always the voice of reason, keeping me in check…", he furrowed his brows, "I thought John Seed had caught you, Gray, that it's just me from all us not in the Seeds' clutches." Sabrina took a seat on the couch, while Boomer rested his head against her knee, the heartbroken look in his dark eyes making her wonder if he was aware of his beloved owner's fate. Her chest felt heavy and she dreaded having to break the news to Calahan as he paced around the living room, almost wearing a trail in Rae-Rae's carpet. "Cal, I-" "I kept hoping you'd meet up with me that goddamned morning, so many times I looked back, telling myself I would see you emerge from the shadows", his voice choked up, and he blinked rapidly before taking a deep breath, "I thought I lost you, Gray. First I feared you haven't managed to get away, then everyone kept telling me you probably died to a trigger happy Peggie… But I knew better, I felt it."

"Calahan.", Sabrina stopped him, "I didn't escape. Not really… I made it out of the helicopter, managed to crawl away with my head spinning like crazy, then John was there, looming over me with this victorious smirk like he'd finally brought a game to an end…" Something about the way she had said his name, caused Hartley to pause his pacing, "That bastard." "I tried to shoot him, Cal, but only ended up passing out at his feet." "So it was you on that road with him. I received intel about a sighting of you, with John Seed. I couldn't wrap my head around it… why you'd be there." She nodded, "I woke up in an empty cell at his bunker, kid. Ended up being escorted to a torture room-" Calahan's eyes shone with fury, "Did he lay a hand on you? First Hudson, now you, I swear, I'm doing my own version of a Cleansing the moment I see him." "Joey? What's happened to her?" He remained silent, heading for Rae-Rae's TV and turning it on as he said, "It might be better to see it with your own eyes. He's taking matters beyond what you call 'tasteless advertisement', Gray." John's face appeared on the screen, his piercing blue gaze making her shiver through the recording the same way it did in person anytime he would aim it her way. But this was another side of John, before her was the man that was the face of the Project, his act carefully crafted to lure you in, fool into false pretense of security and acceptance. Staring at him was like going for a swim in a the calmest of waters, submerging fully only to encounter the shark that was lurking beneath the surface all along. She used to naively joke about his billboards, about how bizarre his old broadcasts were. All that now felt like it was thousand years away, belonging in a simpler times.

"Even the Father knows deeply of sin. It's a poison,", the outfit he wore was the same one he had on as she sat in his horror movie worthy room, his plane jacket that she had seen in his office bearing a familiar dark stain, her blood. Somewhere along the way before their confrontation where she had figured out his identity, he had taken his time to film a new broadcast, even more chilling than any of his previous ones. He spoke of the "Power of Yes" in the same matter-of-fact, cheery tone he used in his address that was blasting outside the house. Then Joey appeared on screen and Sabrina choked back a sob at her state: the duct tape stuck on her mouth, mascara covered cheeks, fresh injuries that didn't seem to be from the crash alone. "No.", her eyes brimmed with tears like Hudson's, pain shooting through her heart as she faced the ugliness of reality. "He's been playing this on a loop all over the region. Calls me daily, taunting me about Hudson, my impending 'Cleansing' and how I'd be joining her soon so he can save my soul.", Cal muttered, fidgeting with his zippo lighter. Sabrina knew the clicks of it brought him comfort, helped him to keep his anger in check anytime it would reach a dangerous point. "I'm so sorry." "I watched that damned broadcast so many times, looking for you, hoping I've missed you in the crowd, praying I didn't because of what it would mean. I suspected he must have you after the way he stared at you in Joseph's church." "Stared at me how?", she asked in confusion, her time at the Compound feeling like a blur, as if covered in a fine layer of mist she couldn't quite push through. "Like you were his next meal.", Hartley gritted out.

"Cal." "What happened, Gray? Because I'm so lost and I need you to tell me Mary May ain't right to worry you've turned or have been playing us all along, working for Joseph." "You think we're safe in here? There's a lot to cover, kid." "As safe as we'd be in Holland Valley while John Seed is still breathing." "I just need you to remain calm and listen, okay? Promise me you will." Calahan rubbed at the stubble covering his jaw, "I will do my best. Can't promise my fist won't go through any walls, I'm barely holding it together here." As if sensing her unease, Boomer raised his head to glance at her, offering her silent support, "One of his men tied me to a chair, there was a table full of tools, hinting torture was next on the menu. I grabbed a knife, cut myself free, but the damned door was locked, Cal." Sabrina shivered as she recalled the long wait until John had finally shown up, how she had imagined any possible outcome and never making it to her sister. "I waited what felt like hours until John appeared, I was planning on killing him, I truly did. He stood between me escaping that bunker and getting back to Savannah." Calahan's eyes shifted to hers in panic, making Sabrina add, "She's okay, kid." "Thank God. I avoided your cabin, knowing the trouble it would bring to her and Ms. Darcy. Why isn't he dead, Gray?"

She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for Hartley to look at her like she's lost it after her next words. The truth sets you free, right? It certainly had with John… she was freer than most people in the Valley, it seemed. Or safer at least. "I've been having visions since I can remember, Cal. Glimpses… of the future, oftentimes I wouldn't be able to even place them or they'd be useless as seeing someone have a stupid, mundane conversation. This is the part where you tell me it's impossible? That I'm certified.", she let out a humorless laugh. Calahan shook his head as he finally sat down next to her, "You saw something at the church, didn't you? It why you hesistated to arrest the fucker. You were so damn pale." "I got a vision of the crash, how they were taking away the others. I tried to help, but-" "We didn't listen. Fuck. I'm so sorry, Gray." "I'm used to it by now. It's more surprising when people believe me.", she gave him a sad smile, "So anyway, John comes in, starts talking about how much he knows about me, how I'd confess all my secrets to him. Turns out telling him he won't be getting shit from me is the wrong thing to say, he lost it and got all up in my face, and all I could picture was slashing his throat, leaving him to bleed out. But then I saw his tattoos…" Hartley had grown restless the more she spoke, flicking his lighter open and closed at an alarming rate, the sound echoing as her words died down. Sabrina reached out, stopping the haunted movement, palm covering his hand.

"Throughout the years, I've seen a lot of things, there was something that remained a constant, a man, I could never quite see his face, Cal, but his tattoos are practically embedded in my mind by now." "No way. Those ugly ass scribbles he has going on?" Sabrina nodded, "It was his tattoos I was seeing all this time and it stopped me, made me doubt if I'd succeed at killing him, if it won't make things worse for me." Calahan had a strange look on his face, "Why?" "Because none of the visions involving him had taken place yet, which meant he would live." "This is… Jesus.", he shoved his free hand in his jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lit one quickly, taking a deep pull before muttering, "Forgive me, Rae-Rae." "I know. He asked me what I've seen at the church, suspecting something had happened. I came up with a plan… to use his curiosity, his hubris to my advantage. I needed to 'confess'." "Gray, that shit means nothing, those damned broadcasts about confessing your sins, confessing doesn't get you-" "Not my 'sins', kid, but about my ability, that I could be of use to him. I couldn't try to be a hero, I had to get back to my sister alive. And it worked… eventually he brought me to his office, and we made a deal for him to bring me to Savannah in exchange of knowledge." "You joined them?", Calahan's voice was cold, distant. "I didn't join anything. I offered him my notebooks where I kept notes of my past visions, he could have them all for all I cared. He met Savannah and I-I managed to convince him to not bring us back to that hellhole. She's at his ranch right now, I sneaked out because I saw a vision of Rae-Rae, hoped I'd be able to warn her.", tears were threatening to escape, to spill out like her words had, "But I was too late."

"This is insane. A deal?", he pushed off the couch, returning to pacing, concern mixing with his anger as he swiveled to face her, "How can you trust him? He fucking had you tied to a chair!" Sabrina bit her lip, "I know how it sounds, trust me. But it's the only choice I had and still have." "We can get her, Gray. Right fucking now. Have Savannah in Fall's End before John knows what hit him." "And then hide or constantly be on the run with him pissed off because I've broken our deal and fled?" His blue eyes darkened as he took another drag of his cigarette, "I told you I'd kill him, now feels like the perfect time. Bet it would be hard for him seek revenge when he's dead." The thought of the man she had looked for all these years getting killed by another that had become like family to her threatened to split her heart in two, "He's just one head of the snake, Joseph is the one pulling all the strings." The edge to his words chilled her to the bone, "I will see how old Joe likes it when I personally deliver his brother's corpse at his church's doors, no hiding behind a warrant or upholding the peace this time around. I'm torching the whole place to the ground, like they did with the Sheriff's. What I should have done long time ago, really." Something darker, haunting, filled with regret lurked behind his last remark. "No."

Sabrina got up too, trying to keep panic out of her voice, knowing it won't do her any good in her attempt to make him see reason, to stop him from rushing headfirst into his own demise and taking someone she cared for down with him. "You can't kill him." His laugh was void of any humor, "Can't? Or you don't want me to? Because take one look outside and what Joseph turned us all into - killers." "We can use him, make him see.", she steeled her gaze, "He's not too far gone." Or at least she hoped it was true, holding onto every moment they had shared that told her as much. "The guy that ties people to chairs in his bunker and carves sins into them ain't too far gone?", Calahan seemed less than convinced as he searched for something he could put his cigarette out on, finally dropping it into a half-empty cup of coffee. The same one Rae-Rae probably hadn't gotten the chance to finish when John's men had stormed her property, set on seeing their mission through. Carving? What the fuck are you doing, John? She avoided asking what he meant by it, sensing a landmine in hiding. "He's not-" "He's not what?", there was a disbelief in his tone when he cut her off. "I know it makes no difference, but he's not tying people up himself." "Great, so he's entitled on top of being a violent psycho. Must be all that money… fucking attorneys."

"Cal.", Sabrina pinched the bridge of her nose, watching him open and close Rae-Rae's cabinets on another hunt for God knew what, "Can you please just sit down, you're making me jittery as hell." "There you are.", he exlaimed as he pulled out a liquor bottle out of one of the cupboards, downing a drink before pouring himself another and walking back to the couch with the glass clutched in his hand like a lifeline, "Don't look at me like that. It ain't early for a drink now. And even if it was… I'd say the circumstances excuse it." "I'm not-,", she shook her head, "I'm worried about you, kid. Have you eaten-" Calahan walked over and pulled her into his embrace with his free hand, the scent of smoke wrapping around her like his arm did, "You're something else, you now that? You're basically a hostage and worrying about me eating." He pulled back, offering her a small smile, "Back to the 'John can be redeemed' argument now that I've gotten my dose of liquor courage. And look, I haven't even punched anything yet." She lowered herself back onto the couch, gaze focuse on Rae-Rae's backyard through one of the living room windows when Hartley took his previous seat next to her. "He hasn't 'carved' anything into me." A groan ripped free from his chest, "Yet." "There's a different side to him, one I'm willing to fight for." "You mean different than that?", Calahan pointed at the now muted TV playing John's broadcast on a neverending loop. "Yeah."

"In what way?", curiosity shone in his blue eyes. "He helped me make breakfast. He was worried about me when I got hurt and kept us out of that bunker." Hartley whistled, making Boomer's ears perk up as he remained curled up by the couch, "Romantic. Leslie can also make breakfast, you know? And better yet, he's not part of a cult." Sabrina blinked at the sudden mention of her ex-partner, the squeak of the front door as it swung open, making both of them jump from their sitting position and point their guns at whoever had decided to try sneaking up on them. "Cal, you in here?" It was as if time stood still where she stared at the man that filled up the entryway of Rae-Rae's house. Where she told herself what she was witnessing was impossible. Then one simple word sprung her into action. "Rina?" Sabrina was rounding the couch the second her nickname rolled off his lips, and Leslie set off towards her too, meeting her halfway. An arm snaked around her waist, the other holding a shotgun while her hands clutched at his leather jacket. "What are you doing here?", the question was met with his laughter, and she couldn't help but blink back another wave of tears that wanted to escape. "What do you think?", she pulled out of his embrace, her eyes meeting his, "I came to see you."

A fake cough sounded behind them, "Just reminding you two I'm here in case a make-out session ensues…" Sabrina spun on her heel, "Why didn't you tell me, kid?" "You found her.", Leslie chimed in at the same time. "Sure, I will take the credit.", Calahan raised his glass and took a generous sip, "Now, sit down, chief. Gray was in the middle of telling me all about John Seed's 'sweet side'." Parish complied, perching himself on one of the armrests of the couch while she stared at the two of them, shock coursing through her system. "John? Sweet?", he frowned as he patted the empty space next to him, and Sabrina shuffled over reluctantly, "Why were you two talking about that fucker?" Calahan left his glass at the coffee table that was moved away from her usual spot by the couch and lit up another cigarette, "Well, well, well, fuck me, if things ain't about to get interesting. The next couple of minutes consisted of her catching Leslie up on the attempted escape, her short stay at the bunker and finally coming clean about her visions. "So this is how you knew Kim will be having a baby girl?", Parish asked as he accepted the drink Hartley had poured for him, "Why didn't you tell me, Rina?" "I was afraid…", she muttered slowly, gaze glued to the intricate pattern on the carpet below her feet, "that you would look at me differently or worse, not believe me at all."

His hand came to rest on top of hers, "You know me better than that." "I do." "And John… is the 'mystery man'? You two haven't met before you moved here." She nodded and offered him a sad smile. "You're certain it's him?" "I am." Leslie rubbed at his lip, a telltale sign he was deep in thought, whispering a quiet, "Fuck." Calahan was sitting down on the floor a few feet away from them, cross legged, stroking Boomer's head as the canine snuggled against his knee, "Speaking of Johnny… how are your breakfast making skills, chief?" Sabrina's eyes widened, "Don't start." A wicked grin was pointed her way, hinting at his intentions, "Can't do. Tell me, Gray, have you noticed perhaps that Leslie here looks like a certain someone?" It was Leslie's turn to send him a look of warning, "Cal. I do not." "He practically can be John's double, unfortunate fate considering the current state of the County." She crossed her arms over her chest, "Les looks nothing like John." The words won a grateful smile from Parish, "Thank you, Rina." "Tell that to all the folks I had to stop from killing him,", Calahan paused, "you're welcome by the way." Her face twisted in concern, "People have been threatening you?" "It's fine. Nothing I can't handle." "Wouldn't call it fine.", Calahan argued, "But my point is… you have a perfect John candidate, Sabrina, sitting right next to you."

Parish finally brought the glass he'd been holding up to his lips, "We're not going there." "Absolutely not going there.", Sabrina repeated for good measure. "You sure?", Hartley cocked his head to the side, "He's also taller than good old Johnny, has a voice that doesn't grate my ears, especially when he says 'Deputy'." She rolled her eyes, "I happen to like his voice, thank you very much." The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to slap a hand over it, especially with how his lips twisted into a devilish smirk, "You sure about that? Check back with me when it turns out he chants 'Yes' over and over when he comes…", his voice pitched in an attempt to mimic John's, something she wished to unhear, "'Yes, Deputy. I'm so close. YES. YES. YES.'" By then Leslie's glass was empty, and she was tempted to pour herself a drink as well, "Cal." "What? You two think he doesn't? I'd go as far as to bet on it. Bastard sure loves the word." "I really don't want to visualize my best friend in bed with another man." Sabrina hitched her thumb towards him, "Exactly." Calahan chuckled darkly, "Though luck, chief. Your best friend has been seeing it for years." "Calahan!" "Look at me,", he pointed at his eyes, "and tell me you haven't, not once, seen a vision of Johnny in a compromising position. The noisy part of me wants to know, you know… but then when I think more about it, I feel like puking."

"I haven't.", she retorted quickly, cheeks heating up at the lie. "Liar." "Drop it, Calahan." "The more you deny it, the less I believe it's all innocent, Gray. How R-rated did it get, though?" All he got as reply was silence. "Fucking ew. That bad?", his first covered his mouth, before he muttered to himself, "Johnny must have some hidden moves." "Calahan." Leslie cleared his throat, running a hand over his face in exasperation, "Can we change the subject?" "Sure.", Calahan said with a nonchalant shrug, "I can just circle to it later. Now that I have you here, Leslie, maybe you could get it through her skull that she can't be staying with him at his ranch. Deal of protection and spicy visions be damned." "Where have you been staying, kid?", Sabrina uttered out. He scrunched his nose, "Mary May's couch, turns out my cabin has an cult infestation problem, thankfully Zorro held the fort until I arrived. Haven't slept that well with people getting snatched and killed left and right…" "Exactly. I can't risk Savannah's life. You know how they say, 'Better the devil I know, that the one I don't'? John's that. A safer alternative than the unknown." "How safe of an option is he really, Rina?"

Calahan chimed in, pulling out his lighter again, watching the small flame dancing before he extinguished it, "I just can't imagine you and Savannah under the same roof with that bastard." "He's actually different around her. It's kind of scary how easy he switches roles. From this,", she gestured to the TV, "to a man that carries me to bed because he refuses to let me sleep outside. 'Can't let a bear eat me.', he said." "Have you though even for a second he might be playing you. Trying to lure you in, so you join the fucking cult." "I won't. And I don't think he is…" Hartley rolled his eyes, sending a pleading look towards Leslie who remained awfully quiet, "For fuck's sake. Help me over here, Parish." "He hasn't told Joseph about me, Calahan. He's keeping it a secret, keeping my visions a secret." "Or he's lying, and they're both laughing at how trusting you are." "No." "How can you be sure?", he scoffed, "The bastard is a master manipulator, a sleazy lawyer that stole half the County's land for the goddamned Project and had Whitehorse shaking in his boots, and you… are next on his to-do list. Literally too, I guess." "That was something Joseph put him up to. Me… if he really knew about my visions, I'd be dead by now. Even John couldn't deny it." "Good old Joseph, oh, how he'd lose his mind if he learns 'God' has been showing visions of his brother fornicating to someone else, he'd probably die from the shock before I have the chance to kill him.", he narrowed his eyes, a look of disgust passing over his features again. "Can you please stop talking about me and him in that way?" Leslie spoke up for the first time in forever, "Dito."

"Sorry, Gray. But I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact you like the guy… with his weird fashion sense, questionable siblings and, I don't know, the giant knock-off of the Hollywood sign he had them Peggies built for him." "You're forgetting the billboards." "Thanks, chief. Billboard, broadcasts,", Calahan blew the flame of his lighter, watching it come to life again, "posters of his face all around his bunker, I'm being told by trusted sources. That true?" "Yeah. I saw a couple." His eyes lit up all of sudden, "Oakley bet me $50 a while back that he has a sex room in the ranch." "Are you for real?" "As serious as me promising I'd be setting his 'YES' sign on fire and taking selfies underneath it, perfect lighting and all that. So, does he?" "As far as I know… no?" "Not a definitive answer then?" Leslie got up without a word and walked out into the backyard, the two watching him as sat onto the picnic table there with his back to them. Calahan released a laugh, "I think he had enough of me." "You think?" "Now it's just us…", he lowered his voice, "Those visions… was Johnny that good, promise I won't tell a soul?" "Focus." "Yes or no?"

Tagging, @poisonedtruth @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @madparadoxum @purplehairsecretlair @aceghosts @shegetsburned @jillvalentinesday @nightbloodbix @wrathfulrook @florbelles @corvosattano @voidika @theelderhazelnut @chazz-anova @clicheantagonist @cassietrn @stacispratt @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @eclecticwildflowers @dumbassdep and anyone that would like to share a wip ❤️

[adreamoverlife]

I wish there was like a teaser tab for ao3 even though I know it would be used for evil but what if it was for me only

[theinfinitedivides]

whenever you tag a post with your 'secret project' tag it makes me smile! it's going to be a banger

ahhhhh, tysm!!!!! it's actually an anthology of things i've been working on seriously for close to four years (had the nebulous idea for an additional four years before that) that is (somehow) still in the plotting stage. the aesthetics are there the vibes are there the general direction is there but word count? nada i'm starting to think it should be a film/game project, asfjdgjnlifhfnlwwmpjfmq

[heythatcouldbeafunnyuser]

Just rewatched all of the Maze Runner movies and remembered that two of the characters in my novel WIP basically started out as sad attempts to reincarnate Newt and Fred Weasley, but with an added hint of Jimin

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

sometimes i literally just. think about the implications of the w wip. like how someone who isn't me (didn't write it) would look at it. just the sheer implications therein.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

.

[call-me-copycat]

hi michiiii !!

one of my friends is looking to become a beta reader! do yu still need them? if so, what do they do ?? can my friend just ask ??

Hello hello! (´∇｀)

I certainly am still looking for beta readers! I haven't been writing super often, so that's something for them to consider as well ‎(´-ᴗ-⸝⸝ก)

Yeah they can definitely ask! Anyone can send in any asks anytime! I'm here to answer any questions d(ゝω・´○)���ケ Or just to talk too

Here's how I'm trying to do it (it's very rough right now since it's my first time doing this):

I have a sideblog that only the 2 beta readers I have right now know about, and I'll typically just post the fic (or WIP) and tag the beta readers, and whoever's there can read it over and just tell me what's wrong in the comments

Here are things I'm looking for!

Incorrect grammar (spelling, POV, past tense/present tense, etc)

Issues with the plot (ex: Character pulls something out of their backpack even though it was stated earlier they had nothing but the clothes on their back / character with missing leg is stated to have an itch in the leg that's supposed to be gone) - I don't think this happens a lot in my writing but it's always nice to have a second opinion!

I'm generally just trying to get opinions

Would this character not do this, so it's out of character? Does this make sense medically? Etc etc

Is this sentence phrased weird? Have I used a certain word too much?

If it's A WIP, then what are their ideas on how this story could progress? (If I don't have the storyline planned out)

There are probably other things I'm missing but that's pretty much the gist of it - I'm not really picky so I'm fine with anything presented to me, even them telling me they can't find anything is fine too (⁠^⁠^⁠) It's more of just me needing a second pair of eyes over anything else

If anyone wants to edit a fic (if there's a lot to change or if they just want to get their ideas through clearly) then I'm fine posting it in a doc or something too - I'll look anything over and if there's something I like that I use in the fic I'll make sure to credit them at the end note ( ˶'∀'˶)

It's a bit much, I know, so that's why I'm more than willing to answer every question presented to me! I actually encourage questions to be asked!

I've just been asking for beta readers because my mind's been a little foggy due to constantly jumping between school and work (mainly school messing with my head), so I'm just hoping that having people look over my writings a little will help make sure the fics I post aren't a little wonky (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）

[tangerineastronaut]

heavy ♥ s.mingi

You're so very sorry.

Pairing: Mingi x Fem!Reader Genre: smut. just pure smut. slight fluff at the end, 99% smut. Requested: No w.c. 3.9k Warnings: Everything is consensual - rough sex, dirty talk and more dirty talk, choking/breathplay, deep throating, name calling, degradation, slight talk of somno, Mingi seems like an asshole, sort of noncon but not really, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, reader doesn't talk much during, established relationship If you notice other potentially triggering content please let me know so I can add it. A/N: I...I have no excuses. Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

“Mingi, I-I‘m sorry—”

“You fucking will be.”

You struggled with the key to unlock the door; he was bearing down on you, already grinding against your ass, but that was your fault, wasn’t it?

You thought it’d be cute to tease him—

> Might’ve forgotten my panties…wish you were inside me.

—but the look he’d given you after opening his phone…the way his jaw ticked, how he’d tugged at the crotch of his jeans. You knew you’d fucked up. 

Finally, it opened, though you almost wished it hadn’t. Mingi grabbed your arm and slammed the door, throwing you against it. 

“Wanna say it again?” he asks, one hand moving to your throat. He towers over you, plump lips forming a half snarl. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. You whimper, the sound dying into a squeak as he puts pressure on your trachea with his thumb. “Say it. I love when you do. It’s easier to fuck that pretty face when I’m mad at it.”

“I-I…” you begin with a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

Mingi curses, shoving you to your knees with his heavy grip. When he took his hand off your throat, you began taking deep breaths—it’d be a while before you weren’t gasping for air anymore. You glance up. 

His dark eyes were half lidded, never leaving you as he worked at his jeans. You swallowed, an instinctual response to the sound of the button popping and zipper going down. 

“Open that slutty fucking mouth, baby. Wanna see you drool,” he orders. You open your mouth and keep it open. It’s like muscle memory; you can already taste him. 

Mingi pushes the material down his thighs, stopping half way. His spandex boxers go next, the snap of elastic making you jump. When his cock is freed, it springs into your face, already swollen and ready to be sucked and fucked. 

That was your fault. 

“Don’t look so fucking surprised, y/n,” Mingi says, one large hand fisting your hair and the other gripping his cock. “Wanna send me filthy texts during dinner? Hm? Tell me you’re not wearing panties? Did you think I wouldn’t make you choke on this fucking dick?”

You whimper, feeling drool beginning to leak down your chin. Mingi smirks, rubbing the thick head into your spit.

“Say it, baby. Say it again.”

You sniffle, eyes burning. Mingi is unrelenting, gently bumping your head back against the door. 

“Say it for me, princess. Love that pretty mouth,” he coos in a deceptively smooth tone. You knew better; he was baiting you. You were nothing more than prey to him right now. “Please? One more time for me, be good just this fucking once.”

“I’m sor—”

The minute you try to speak, Mingi forces his cock inside. His hips thrust forward, pinning you against the door and stretching your lips open. He wants to fit it all in one go, to push the head into the back of your throat. When you gag, he grins. 

Your hands go to his hips, shoving, as if that’d do anything. He moved his hand to get a better grip on your hair, tilting your head back. 

“Mmn…hold still, pretty. Gonna use that mouth,” he growls. You dig your nails into his thighs, making him hiss, but that doesn’t stop him from beginning to fuck. In and out, in and out, his cock stretches your throat, giving you seconds to breathe between thrusts. 

Mingi fucks your face until your gagging becomes more violent, pulling out in time to watch you cough and drool on yourself. He still had a tight grip on your hair, and the other went to his cock, now slick with your saliva. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums, stroking himself. It’s somehow menacing, the way his thumb rubs over the head. A threat. “You look scared.”

“I won’t do it again,” you whine softly, swallowing down a mix of spit and precum. “P-Promise.”

Mingi stares down at you until you squirm. He suddenly kneels down and you flinch, though he yanks you forward by your hair. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, kissing the wet corner of your mouth. “You have ten different ways, baby. Half of them don’t need words. Tell me to stop treating you like a whore.”

Fuck. 

You swallow, nails digging into your palms. Your cheeks flush red from shame and Mingi chuckles. He knew you wouldn't, that you know the signals, the ones you'd agreed on when someone decided it was too much, words and taps and gestures.

He was rubbing it in your face—just how much of a fuckdoll you turned into for him.

“No? Don’t tell me you like being treated like this,” he taunts you, a look of faux concern on his gorgeous face. “Nothing but a pretty collection of warm holes for me to choose from. I’ve got plans for you and this cock, baby. Gonna make you suck it some more, then it’s gonna go in that needy little hole between your legs. It’s not coming out of there until you’ve taken every drop of cum from me. Tell me not to do it, baby.”

When you don’t answer, refusing to look at him, Mingi yanks your face toward him with your hair. He forces his mouth over yours, groaning into you as his tongue slips inside. You feel hot tears rolling down your cheeks as he takes from you, rubbing his cock against your exposed thigh beneath your dress. He sucks and licks and nips the soft flesh of your mouth and tongue, holding you open by the jaw.

Mingi sucks your lower lip and bites it, making you squeak. He laughs and finally releases you, only for you to fall back against the door. 

Strings of drool stretch between you, and you shudder when he licks his lips. But the sensuality is dampened as he stands to his full height, gripping his fat cock and staring down at you. 

“Open wide, babygirl. That’s it…fuck yes. Stop moving, baby. Just take it. If I feel teeth, 'm gonna make it hurt, yeah?"

Your throat is numb. 

Your jaw aches, your fingers are curled into the carpet, but your eyes haven’t left him. He’s standing over you as he’s been doing for the past half hour, though now both of his hands hold your head in place for him. They’re so fucking big, gripping tight as he uses your mouth like a fleshlight. When you’re lucky, you see him bite his lip and whisper that he loves you; otherwise he’s got his head tilted back, chest heaving as he fucks into your mouth. 

“That’s it, so fucking dirty,” Mingi groans, hissing as your teeth catch on his massive cock. “I should make you choke on my cum, baby. Should hold that pretty head down until I pump it right down your throat. Feed you like a fucking whore.”

Your dress is soaked in spit and precum, as it’s been dripping down your chin. You consider pulling it off, but you don’t want to expedite his plans for you. So you sit there in your ruined dress, letting the love of your life abuse your throat over and over. 

Mingi looks down at you, thumb brushing over your lips where they’re stretched open, forced by his cock. He bites his lip, cursing under his breath. 

“Say it again, baby.”

“Nnh…” you choke around him. He licks his lips and nods, so you do your best to please him. “Nnhn…nnh…”

Your eyes are wet with tears; drool leaks out around his cock, and you helplessly swallow as you try to speak with the obstruction in your mouth. Mingi watches as though enthralled, nodding the more you choke on words.

“Nnh…”

You finally give up when you splutter with a sob. 

Mingi pauses and growls. He throws an arm against the door, taking the other hand off your face as he pulls out. You quickly gasp for air before he begins thrusting again. 

Without his hands keeping you steady, your head hits against the door repeatedly. Mingi slides his hand behind your head, fisting your hair once again, then leans forward until there’s no space left between him, you, and the surface behind you. Each thrust is less than a few centimeters as he grinds against your esophagus. You weakly cry until he decides he’s had enough, stuffing himself down your throat for a few seconds before yanking it out. You gasp and fall onto your hands and knees, heaving for air. 

Your throat feels raw, your cheeks are wet, your knees ache from sitting on them for so long, but Mingi pulls at you as though impatient. 

You expect him to carry you to the bedroom, probably throw you on the bed, but while you catch your breath you feel his hand on the back of your head. 

“M-Ming—”

“Stick that fucking ass up,” he grunts, shoving your face into the carpet. Your cries are muffled against the plush surface as he holds your head down. 

Where you expect to feel his cock, you instead feel his tongue lick between your sticky cunt lips. You jolt, only for him to chuckle. He says nothing else before burying his face in your pussy. 

You release a loud cry, your hips wriggling from the sensitivity as he sucks your clit into his mouth without waiting. You whine and gasp, fisting the carpet as you moan against it. 

Mingi lets go of your hair only to hug your ass against his face. He sucks and licks, mouthing at your labia and lapping at your slit like candy. He groans and rubs his face between your legs, plush lips feeling like heaven as he french kisses your cunt. 

When he suckles your clit again, you squeak, mouth falling open. He groans and teases the bundle of his nerves in his warm mouth, tongue sliding below the hood until you’re twitching from the overstimulation. He releases it only to lick up and down your vulva repeatedly, as though savoring a popsicle.

“Say something, baby. Tell me how it feels,” he says, slurping and smacking his lips. He moans before diving in again, throat working as he swallows your sweet juices. You shudder, licking your lips from where your front half is flopped against the carpet. 

“Mm. G-good,” you mumble. Mingi smacks your ass so hard you cry out. 

“Fuck, that’s right. Such a juicy cunt,” he murmurs, hands moving to your thighs. He grabs your ass and uses his thumbs to pull apart your pussy. You hear him suck a finger into his mouth before it prods at your hole, making you clench around nothing. 

“Don’t pretend like I haven’t seen this pussy swallow all eight inches of me, baby. Gonna fuck up this little hole until you can’t sit right.”

You whine and jump when he begins sliding his index finger inside, long and firm, though not enough. Your pussy flutters and Mingi moans, thrusting his cock against your thigh. 

“Got me rutting like a fucking dog after a bitch in heat,” he growls, roughly smacking your ass. “Put those legs together. Gonna use all of you.”

You do as he asks, a little dizzy as you shuffle to close your legs, ass still in the air. His finger begins steadily pumping into you, though you feel something slick and hard wedging itself between your thighs. 

“Mmn…fuck, love your thick fucking thighs baby, takes my cock almost as good as your filthy little cunt,” Mingi groans, hooking the finger inside you. You yelp, and he does it again, and again, roughly poking the inner bundle of nerves. Each time you move, you grind on his cock, your thighs giving him a tight squeeze to fuck into. 

You begin pushing back on his finger, so he adds another. The stretch is good, but nothing like what he’ll feel like when he’s inside you. 

“Look at you,” he groans, watching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. He squeezes in a third and you moan, ass lazily bouncing against his knuckles. “My nasty little girl. Always wants to act so sweet, you just want me to climb on top and pick a hole to use, right?”

“Mmnn…” you mumble, feeling the pad of his finger stroke your inner walls. You were getting desperate, and you hated that. Desperate you is exactly why Mingi gets like this—he knows you. 

“I love playing with this one, like how you scream and beg me to put something in that needy cunt at the same time,” he hums. His thumb rubs over your asshole, and you feel the tight ring of muscle respond to his touch. He chuckles quietly, leaning over you, fingers still fucking into you. “I think I’m gonna use my pretty girl’s pussy. See how she takes it when I fuck her like the horny bitch she is.”

“Mingi,” you whine, currently the only word in your sex-dumb vocabulary. He sighs, pulling his fingers out. You shiver at the cold emptiness, but then your boyfriend is suddenly getting ready to fuck you on the floor of your entryway.

“Bedroom?” you manage to ask, but a firm hand on the back of your neck silences you by smothering your face into the carpet.

“You think you deserve a soft bed right now?” Mingi asks darkly. You hear shuffling; he slips off his jeans and tosses them to the side. When you try to look back at him where he’s unbuttoning his shirt, he smacks your ass, nearly sending you rolling to your side. 

“The bed is where I fuck my good girl,” he says, pulling you back against his hips. He nudges his cock between your thighs again, thrusting once, hard, and you feel the tip of his cock poking your lower belly. “You’re my bad girl, my little whore who’s desperate for this cock. You’re gonna get fucked right here in the floor.”

You moan softly, and Mingi peels you open again. He squeezes the flesh of your ass, toying with the way your pussy lips stretch open. 

“So fucking wet, look how sloppy you are, baby. Your needy little cunt wants it,” he hums. Mingi flicks your clit, making you shudder violently; he moans in approval before sucking his fingers into his mouth. 

He apparently can’t wait any longer, as he begins to mount you, pulling you beneath him with large hands gripping your waist. You try to lift your upper half, though he shoves you down again. 

“Keep your fucking head down,” he growls, licking his palm and roughly jerking his cock a few times. “Don’t worry about this little cunt, baby. Just focus on staying conscious, yeah? Hate it when I have to hold you up.”

You whimper and wiggle your ass, earning another slap, though it’s not as hard as the last few. This is for a good reason, as he’s tugging you back to him. 

Mingi uses one hand to grip your ass cheek, opening you up to him. He groans, gripping his cock and rubbing it up and down your lips, following the path of his tongue minutes ago. He uses two fingers to hold you open, revealing your hole—he slots his cock against it and begins to push.

You moan and arch your back, gritting your teeth at the sensation of being opened. Mingi’s cock is so fucking thick, it stretches you open deliciously. You can feel every vein, every dip in the swollen member as it slides inside of you, inch by inch. No part of your insides are left untouched. 

You wince when the head nudges your cervix, though Mingi only laughs. 

“You’re not done yet, baby. Open up that cunt for me,” he growls, thrusting once. You whimper as you’re thrown forward. 

“H-Hurts,” you mumble, reaching back to push at his waist. Mingi grabs your arm and twists it around your back, putting pressure on you as he works himself deeper. 

“I know it can fit,” he says, pushing harder. “I’ve been balls to pussy inside of you and had you begging for more. Now let me in before I make it fit. You don’t like it when I do that, remember?”

You shudder at the memories of being pinned down, Mingi’s fingers keeping your hole stretched as he wedges his cock inside, all the while telling you it’s gonna look so pretty, you being wrapped around him.

He was wrong. You loved that. 

He begins rutting against you, ignoring your whines of pain as his cock somehow manages to slip further inside. It takes one last thrust before he breaks you open, and his balls are pressed tightly to your clit. You moan, able to feel him deep inside you. 

“Fuuuuck,” Mingi groans, and you remember why you’re so willing to be used by him—that sound, the sound of him being buried inside his girl, caught between wanting to love her sweetly and fuck her like a whore. 

“Feel it?” he asks, grabbing your hips and leaning over you. “Feel it inside, baby? Gonna split you open on this fucking cock.”

“I-I said I was sorry,” you whine. Mingi smacks your ass, this time grabbing the plump flesh and squeezing. 

“You’re not sorry,” he chuckles, adjusting himself on his knees. “Not one fucking bit, y/n. You can fool every other bastard you’ve ever been with, but I know you, baby. I love you. That’s why I’m gonna fuck you up.”

Mingi saws into you relentlessly. 

Your upper half is pinned to the floor as he drags you onto his cock like a broken doll. He leans over you, using his weight on your body as he grabs both of your arms, pinning them to the floor. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, hips working steadily to penetrate you. “You like to look dumb, baby. Like people to think you’re so fucking helpless. If someone saw this, saw what I’m doing to you…fuck, I’d be crucified. They’d say I’m taking advantage of a sweet girl, using her to feel good, like a pretty little cocksleeve.”

Mingi leans down, biting your shoulder until you yelp. His lips go to your ear as he grinds against your ass, his cock painfully knocking at your cervix. 

“Little do they know, huh? I’d have to beg you to stop instead, beg you to let me pull out of this sopping pussy before you milk me for my fucking cum.”

You moan softly, and Mingi fists your hair. He painfully yanks you off the floor, bending you at an odd angle to lean over and kiss you. It’s wet and desperate, more tongue than lips on both ends, but he doesn’t pull away. He leaves his mouth against yours and fucks you harder, deeper, free hand gripping your waist and nailing you to the floor. 

“Can I, baby?” he groans. “Can I pull out? ‘m gonna pull out unless you beg. Beg me to stay inside this little pussy and make it hurt, let me pump my cum so deep it makes you nervous.”

You whine at his words, unwilling to say much thanks to your pride. But then you feel him begin to slip out, throwing a hand back to grab his hip. Mingi laughs until you dig your nails into his ass, throwing yourself back against him until he fucking whimpers. 

“Jesus fuck—”

“Don’t stop,” you plead breathlessly. “P-please, Mingi…keep going. Want you so bad.”

Mingi curses, using his knee to kick yours apart. You lose your balance and fall flat on the floor, though he curls an arm around your hips to keep you propped for him. 

“Yeah?” he asks, nosing the back of your neck. “Want it that bad? Need me to keep stuffing that needy little cunt?”

“Yes,” you moan shamelessly. Mingi lies on your back, now pressing all of his weight on top of you. It’s hard to breathe, though you can tell he’s close. 

“What if I fuck my load in your pretty pussy? Hm? Might put a baby or two in there,” he groans. You squeak and tilt your head back, surprised to find him right there. Your head rests against his shoulder and you bury your face against his throat. 

“D-Don’t care,” you mumble. “Want it. Want you.”

“I’m gonna go deep, babygirl. Gonna make sure your slutty little body can’t stop it.”

“Yes, fuck, y-yes, Mingi…” you whimper. He curses, his chest against your back. 

“G-Gonna cum, baby. Gonna put one inside you,” Mingi gasps. “You gonna take it? Make me pretty babies?”

You don’t have a chance to answer, as he suddenly groans, gripping your thighs and forcing them apart beneath him. He clumsily thrusts until he manages to snugly fit himself inside your body, head dropping against yours as he begins to cum. You feel his fat cock pulsing, pumping his sperm into you, raising a hand to his cheek. 

Mingi tilts his head and kisses you, the softest kiss all night. His plump lips are gentle against yours, and you forget for a few moments that you’re pinned down in an awkward position with his cock stuffed in you. 

A large hand slides beneath your bodies; before you can ask, Mingi’s thumb and index finger find your clit. He gently pinches, rolling the sensitive bud. 

“F-Fuck, Mingi—”

“Want you to cum. Want that cunt to squeeze my cock ‘till there’s nothing left,” he groans against your ear. You moan as he rubs at your clit, though it’s not until he begins gently thrusting again that you feel yourself coming undone. 

The minute your orgasm hits, it draws a sinful moan from Mingi as your muscles squeeze and work at his cock. You feel him try to pull out with a hiss of pain, though he’s unable to, forced to endure his sensitive cock being milked.

Serves him right, you think, wearily collapsing onto the floor. Mingi follows with a groan until you squirm, reminding him that he’s not a lapdog. 

For a few minutes, the apartment is quiet aside from the heavy breathing. Mingi finally pushes himself up, nearly falling again on unsteady arms. He grabs your waist with one hand and the base of his cock with the other, gently easing out of your sore cunt. You still wince, though it’s not too bad, but he mumbles an apology anyway. He keeps his hands on your ass once he’s successfully pulled out and gently squeezes.

“Shit,” Mingi breathes. You ‘hmm’ curiously, unwilling to lift your head, but he crawls above you to lean down and kiss your cheek. “Nothing. Just like watching my cum drip out like that.”

“Gross.” You crinkle your nose. 

“You okay?”

You glance up at Mingi, resisting the urge to smile. Only this boy could pin you to the floor one moment, and then look lost the next, like he’s not sure if he’s hurt you or not. The other Mingi wouldn’t care, the one who threatens to choke you and calls you a slut, that one was fun. But this one was yours, you loved this one.

“I think I’ve got carpet burn—”

“Me too,” he mumbles, looking at the redness on his forearms. 

“—but I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says with a sigh. He kisses your cheek until you turn your head, letting him kiss you properly. He's careful, soft lips molding against yours and looking at you in between kisses to make sure you’re satisfied. 

“I really am sorry,” you mumble against his lips. He hums softly, still kissing you. “For sending that text. I…I don’t know why I did that.”

“Please. Do not ever stop doing that,” he laughs, pinching your cheek. “That was hot as fuck.”

“Then why did you—did you have to throw me against the damn door?!” you huff, pulling back. Mingi sheepishly smiles, nosing at your cheek. You roll your eyes. 

“You liked it,” he sings. You pout. 

You liked it. 

[hoseoksluna]

— WIP 𐙚 test run | jjk

pairing: longterm!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: smut

rating: 18+

about: due to your adult responsibilities, you haven't sucked your boyfriend's dick in a long time, and it shows.

word count: 0.826

note: i started writing this breeding kink fic super late in the week and because i haven't finished it yet, i'm at least posting a smutty wip for you, my babies. i can't leave you starving on a sunday! big kisses mwah.

context: reader is having a bath. prior this scene, they may or may not talked about having a baby. jungkook came back from work horny. (that's all i can say without spoiling the entire thing skfjlsfjlsfsl. it's vague and simple on purpose, the fic has a different plot i promise).

warnings: stomach kisses, blowjob, male masturbation, jungkookie rubs his dickie in reader's face, he low-key degrades her but softly and lovingly.

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

You freed him from his pants. His cock springs in your face, bringing about your drool. You haven’t seen him in the light for quite some time. Your intimacy with him dwells more in the darkness beneath the covers due to adulthood duties, but in the past—when you were still in school, you both used to fuck like rabbits during the day because there was nothing else to do and the sexual attraction was all-too-consuming. It seems as though the test run is changing it, metamorphosing it back to the way it was, so you could devour fistfuls of it before your intertwined life levels up with the baby. 

Everything happens for a reason, huh. 

When Jungkook stands motionless, the material of his hoodie covering the delicious patch of hair that you want to see, you shoot him a playful dirty look. He blushes in response and you catch his hands trembling as he lifts them to the back of the neckline, ridding himself of the outerwear. He lets it plop to the floor, red in the face, stepping out of his sweats. 

Bare, both of you. Emotionally and physically. 

Your mouth latches onto the carved out muscle next to his belly button, swirling circles on that special zone, so terribly impatient and hungry for him. Jungkook doubles over, groaning, the spot you’re making love to secretly sensitive, and if there’s anything you love more in this world other than him, it’s secrecy. Doing things in secret with him. Not telling anyone. Finding things undiscovered on his body that he learns he likes. That type of shit. 

You were just a twenty year old girl when you brought this sensitivity to light. 

His cock twitches on your neck, hardening even more. Out of your peripheral view, you can see him folding his fist around his girth, moving up and down as you descend lower and lower, scattering rough, wet kisses like you scattered the blossoms beneath you. You can’t take your eyes off of it; him pleasuring himself intoxicates you and you missed it. 

You missed it so fucking much.

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” you exclaim, your mouth leaping over to the side base of his cock, trailing your tongue from there all the way up to his fist. Jungkook hisses, and the sound melts into a moan once he feels your tongue. 

And it’s like you returned his dominance to him by that gesture. 

Taking you by your jaw, he pushes your mouth down onto his cock, but you keep your eyes on his face. While your clit throbs even more energetically by the intrusion, Jungkook throws his head back, his noises becoming louder and louder the more you suck in your cheeks around him—because that’s all you’re able to do. It’s him who sets the pace, who moves your head up and down on him, and when the ecstasy pulls him under, he looks down at you with gritted teeth, growls because you’re watching him. And it’s at this moment that you gag around him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes out deeply, prolonging the first vowel that penetrates you and teases your clit. His chest heaves as he struggles to take the overpowering delight without bursting in your mouth. “We haven’t done this in so long. Can I fuck your mouth?” You’re dazed, too dazed by the severity of the moment and the beauty of him to respond, by the horniness that overtakes you. Jungkook circles your head on his tip, your tongue following the movement around him, and he loses it. He completely and utterly loses it. “You can’t talk, can you? My poor baby has a mouth full of cock.”

It’s not by your own will that you let out such a squeaky moan—you can’t really help it. It vibrates around him, causing him to whimper and tuck his lips under his teeth, rolling his eyes back. Panting hard, he pulls himself out of you, and you know that is the telltale sign that he’s close. His cock that hovers above your face drools, his red mushroom head reaching your hairline, and your eyes go cross, taking in the size of him as if you’ve never seen him before.

Strangely, everything about this suggests everything pure and new and you’re drunk. Drunk on it all, swaying in the milky pink water while the blossoms brush against your needy feminine parts. And his cock. Jungkook brushes his cock on your face, letting his precum drip onto your forehead, which then rolls down the side plane of your temples. You’re hot all over. He’s never done this before; you’ve never felt the weight of him like this. It connects you to him in a deeper way that your brain is able to comprehend at this moment.

“You want it, baby? You want Oppa to use you like that before he puts a baby in you, hm?” 

Your eyes go cross again.

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

WIP masterlist

[valiasims]

Baker's Kitchen Collection Part 2

Hey everyone!

Finally I'm uploading my new set which - as you can see from the earlier WIPs - is a clutter set which will go well with my previous collection. I tried to capture the chaos of baking when everything is out and there's a beatiful mess in the kitchen.

My aim was to theme the object around baking bread. There's still so much more I could have included but didn't have the time for it but I think these clutter items will fill up your kitchens and add a homey feeling to it.

I made a retro inspired stove and I'm really proud how it turned out. It can go well with a rustic kitchen but with a luxury kitchen as well. The bigger size is 1,5 tiles wide so for best placement you will need to turn on the half-tile placement with the F5 key.

I hope you like this collection and feel free to provide any feedback.

Have a nice day!

Stove (1 tile, 1,5 tile)

Folded tea towel

Tea towel (to put on the edge of the surfaces)

Scale

Measuring cups

Spilled flour

Flour sack

Dutch oven

Dough scraper

Tray of croissants

Tray of cinnamon rolls

Chopping board (two version)

Croissants

Bread

Baguettes

Bowls

Bowl with tea towel

Bowl

Big bowls

Basket with rolling pins

Banneton basket with bread

Banneton baskets

Egg holder

🔹 Compatibility All items are Base Game compatible. 🔹 TIP You can find the items easily in your Build Catalog if you type in "Baker's Kitchen" or "VALIA". 🔹 Info - Low poly, new, maxis match meshes- Since some items share the same texture you need to have them in your mods folder to properly work. 

DOWNLOAD FREE ON PATREON Public release on the 7th of June

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 3

Despite your promise not to sneak behind the team again, you find yourself in a compromising position when you’re forced to ride in the same car as him.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Nipple/breast play, dry humping, semi public, dirty talk, and technically this isn’t car sex but everything happens in a car, there’s just no penetration. ~2.5k words (not proofread)

A/n: This wasn’t supposed to be in my WIP but… I blame him for looking so slutty in that shirt. Btw, this is shorter because I already have a lot on my plate but I really wanna squeeze this in, so enjoy! If you’ve been following since the first part, our kinky, slightly exhibitionist duo is back

You liked to think you had a good sense of self control when it came to your sex drive. In your past relationships, you were rarely the one to make the first move. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy sex—far from it, actually—but you didn't see it as the centerpiece of a relationship. Sex was enjoyable, yes, but it wasn’t everything.

At least, that's what you thought until now.

You recently reached a realization that three factors led you to reconsider this long-held belief, and unsurprisingly, they all revolved around Spencer Reid.

The first one was his choice of clothes. It seemed like he had woken up one day and decided that undoing the top buttons of his shirt was the new norm. It was as if he was taunting you, and it was working. The moment you saw him wearing that shirt this morning, all you could think about was dragging him into a storage room and have your dirty, nasty way with him.

The second thing was the way your heart raced when he accidentally brushed his hand against yours as you both reached for the car keys. Emily had asked you both to interview a key witness, and naturally, you assumed you’d be the one driving because Spencer rarely volunteered to take the wheel. But to your surprise, he insisted on driving.

It was strange. You wondered what had prompted this change, but you didn’t protest. In fact, you let him. Happily. Because this set the stage for what became the third significant moment that made you reconsider everything.

Him driving the damn car.

You found yourself unable to keep your eyes off him. The way his hands gripped the wheel, moving with effortless control that hinted at a confidence he rarely displayed. Your gaze traveled up his arm, noting the tension in his muscles, and the way his shirt tightened across his shoulders with each turn.

Then there was his face. Your gaze drifted to his jawline, appreciating the sharp angles and the way it tightened slightly when he was deep in concentration. You had to squeeze your thighs together because watching him drive was enough to make you wet.

It was highly inappropriate, of course. You were both on the job, and there was a witness to interview. So you forced yourself to stay professional. It wasn’t until after you finished, after you and Spencer had informed Emily of what you had found and given her the necessary details over the phone, that your ogling became more prominent on the drive back to the station.

And despite being subtle about it, Spencer seemed to know the effect he had on you.

“Is there something you want to say?” His voice was low, slightly amused, as he spared a quick glance in your direction before focusing back on the road.

You forced yourself to look away from his hands. “What do you mean?”

“You seem… distracted.”

You swallowed, trying to muster up an explanation that wouldn’t give away too much. “Just thinking about the case.”

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he were fighting back a smile. “Really? Because it looked more like you were deep in thought about something else.”

You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks. “Well, maybe the case isn’t the only thing on my mind.”

“Oh? And what else were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know if you’d be interested.”

“Try me.”

You turned your body towards him. “It’s highly inappropriate.”

“Now you’ve really got my attention.”

You hesitated, feeling the car’s warmth envelope you, making the space seem smaller, more intimate. “Okay, but remember, you asked for it,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I was thinking about... how well you handle the steering wheel.”

Spencer laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the car. “Is that your way of saying you like my driving, or something more metaphorical?”

“Maybe a bit of both. I mean, a person’s driving does say a lot about them, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he agreed. “And what does my driving say about me?”

“That you’re good with your hands.”

Spencer’s eyes met yours briefly, and you squeezed your thighs tighter.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said finally, his voice low. There was a brief pause and you wondered whether you had gone too far, whether this wasn’t the right time or place to flirt so openly, but then he spoke again.

“And since we’re sharing, I was thinking about something a bit inappropriate too.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “Like what?”

“Like how it’s hard to focus on the road when you’re looking at me like that.”

“…how am I looking at you?”

He gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Like you want me to pull over to the side of the road and kiss you.”

A silence fell between you, and for a moment, you could hardly breathe. You felt a flush of warmth spread through your body, and you bit your lip, considering his words.

“And what if I do?” You asked softly.

You noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting to maintain his composure.

“Then I’d have to find a quiet place for us.”

Your body responded immediately, a wave of heat coursing through you as your breath quickened. You could feel your pulse thrumming in your veins, an urgent, needy beat that matched the thoughts racing through your mind.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Pull over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes searching yours. Then, without hesitation, he scanned the road for a safe spot. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him steer the car onto a narrow, dark lane shielded by dense shrubs. The path seemed to swallow the sound of the engine as he drove further away from the main road.

The silence that followed was thick as he turned off the engine. You both stared at each other, acutely aware of what you were about to do, about the potential consequences, but everything blurred as you both moved at the same time.

Everything was fast, a rush of motion and emotion as Spencer leaned over the console. His lips met yours with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, while you clung to his arm. He kissed you hungrily, desperately, as if trying to communicate every unspoken word through the press of his mouth against yours. The more he kissed you, the more you felt the heat between your thighs and you realized that, in fact, you really had no control over your sex drive.

You then opened your mouth, letting him sink his tongue into you, pressing your body against his. But he was too far away, and you needed more of his heat, more of him. So, you undid your seat belt and did the only thing that felt natural—you climbed onto his lap.

You both moaned when his cock finally pressed against your core, and he found your lips again, his hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested firmly on your hips, urging you to move. The movement was instinctive, a rhythm that was driven by desperation.

You felt his mouth kisses trail from your lips down to your neck, marking a trail of heat that had you burning for more. Your fingers found the buttons of your shirt, and before you could second guess yourself, you undid them one by one.

Spencer’s hands followed the path you created, tracing the newly exposed skin. His large palms moved along your ribs before they rested just beneath your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hard nipples through the fabric of your bra. You gasped, your head falling back in sheer pleasure.

His lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin. His fingers pulled down your bra, exposing your breasts, and when he quickly sucked on your sensitive nub without warning, you bucked your hips, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

His sound of pleasure vibrated against your skin when you moved your hips at a steady pace, the friction driving you both to new heights. You could feel the material of your underwear sticking between your wet folds, and you wished desperately that there was no barrier between you. But time was ticking, and you both knew you were on the clock.

This had to be enough.

Spencer pulled back slightly, your nipple stretching with him, your supple skin following his movements until he let go with a soft pop. He then turned his attention to your other breast, his tongue teasingly circling your hardened nipple before hungrily engulfing it in his mouth.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as you arched your back. You felt his hands roaming over your waist, holding you steady, grounding you even as you felt yourself spiraling higher into a state of pure ecstasy.

“Spence,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. His response was to look up at you with those intense, brown eyes as he continued to suck on your nipple.

His mouth moved with deliberate precision, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks, driving you completely insane. You could feel your control slipping, your body responding to his every touch, and you found yourself unable to think of anything but him. The way he made you feel, the way his touch ignited every nerve in your body.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him on, lost in the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. His lips left your breast, trailing kisses up your chest and neck until he reached your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

The taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, was everything you had been longing for.

“More,” you whispered against his lips, your voice a desperate plea.

“I know, I know,” he murmured back. “I got you.”

You shook your head, breathless. “I wanna feel you.”

He groaned. How he wanted that to happen, but you were both gone long enough and reality was beginning to intrude on your stolen moment.

“We can’t, not here,” he said, his voice strained with desire as he rested his forehead against yours. “We don’t have enough time.”

You bit your lip, trying to push back the disappointment. “I know, but I-I need you.”

“Soon,” he promised. “When we have more time, I’ll give you everything you need.”

Your hips moved faster. “Everything?”

He nodded, his eyes fluttering close when he felt you pressing harder on his cock. “Everything.”

“You’ll finally fuck me?”

His breath hitched at your bold words, his control slipping further.

“Say it. Say you’ll fuck me.”

His self-control wavered, the raw desire in your voice pushed him to the edge as his palms gripped your ass.

“Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?”

You never thought there would be a time when you’d hear those words from him, and yet here you were, craving for more. You nodded and grinded against him, trying to find that delicious pressure on your clit.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice laced with urgency. “I want you to fuck me hard.”

Spencer groaned, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in closer. “Then imagine me inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Think about my cock sliding into you, filling you up completely.”

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, moving against him rhythmically. Who would’ve thought he’d be good at this?

“Imagine my hands gripping your hips, pulling you down onto me,” he continued, his breath warm against your neck. “You’d feel every inch, deep and perfect.”

Your heart pounded as his fantasy played out in your thoughts. “Yes,” you gasped, finding it hard to keep steady. “Please, keep going.”

“I’d set a rhythm that drives you crazy,” he murmured. “Fast, then slow, teasing you, drawing out every moan and gasp until you’re begging me not to stop.”

“Oh God…” you moaned. “Please…”

He continued, relentless and commanding. “And when you’re close, when you’re right on the edge, I’d look into your eyes, whisper how beautiful you are, how good you feel wrapped around me…”

“Spencer, I—”

“And then I’d thrust harder, deeper,” he cut off your words, his tone intense. He pressed a hand against your lower abdomen as if to illustrate his point. “I’d fill you completely, over and over, until all you can do is cling to me and take it.”

You were practically trembling now, his words and slight touches driving you wild.

“I’m so close,” you managed to breathe out, your movements becoming less rhythmic and more desperate. His hands went back to your hips. His grip tightened, steadying and encouraging your frantic movements as he felt his own orgasm nearing.

“Come with me,” he whispered, pressing himself closer to you.

His words, his grip, his presence overwhelmed you. You felt the buildup, almost unbearable, as if every nerve in your body focused on the impending release. Then, with a final, mutual push, you felt the wave break.

Pleasure surged through you, intense and all-consuming. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down as he drove himself up, his name spilling from your lips in a cry of release. You felt him tense, heard his own cry muffled against your skin, as he reached his climax with you.

Panting, you both slowed, the car filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft hum of the engine in the background. Spencer’s hands softened on your hips, caressing now, soothing the spots where his fingers had pressed.

You ran a hand through his thick hair. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a dirty mouth?”

His grin was both sheepish and proud as he met your gaze. “You’re actually the first person to hear it.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his hands carefully adjusting your clothes. “It seems you have a way of bringing out a side of me I didn’t know I had.”

You watched him, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. There was so much you wanted to say, so many feelings swirling inside you, but the words felt too fragile for the moment. Instead, you settled for the silence.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind. He tapped your hip gently, drawing your attention. “Come on, I think we need to drop by the hotel before we go back to the station.”

When he caught the startled look you sent him, he laughed.

“To change my pants. Nothing else.”

“…oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

You blushed, caught off guard by his remark and your own reaction. “No, I just—” you started, then paused, searching for the right words. “I mean, yes, maybe a little.”

His smile widened, pleased by your response. “I’ll tell you what,” he began. “After we finish this case, after we fly back, let’s spend time together. Just you and me.”

Your hands pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. You wondered what it would be like to have him pressed against you with nothing between you, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat directly under your palms.

The thought made you both nervous and excited at the same time.

“Really?”

He leaned in for a kiss. “Really.”

“You promise?”

He smiled against your lips.

“I promise.”

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.