𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

22 | she/her | ♉︎

[mad-katsuki]

info.

welcome to my page, you can call me power <(￣︶￣)>

im 21 y/o

i use she/her pronouns

♉︎ ♈︎ ♐︎

ISFJ

here are my works so far

suna nsfw twt 2.osamu nsfw twt 3.issei nsfw twt

i’m always looking for more ideas, please feel free to use my ask box and give me recommendations. im also always looking for a friend to chat with so please dont be shy, talk to me....im lonely ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ♡

[whasabi]

papa!kuna who will tolerate a lot from his kid but disrespecting you isn’t one of them.

dinner should have been quiet, but the tension sitting around the table made the air feel heavy.

your phone had rung an hour ago, the number from the school flashing across the screen like a warning you already knew the meaning of. another fight. another call from the office explaining that your son had gotten into a physical altercation again. by the time sukuna got home, the frustration had already settled deep in your chest.

now the three of you sat around the table, plates half-eaten, the quiet stretching longer with every second.

your son sat across from you, slouched low in his chair with one elbow on the table, lazily pushing his food around his plate with his fork like the entire situation bored him. his shoulders were tense, jaw tight in that stubborn way he had whenever he knew he was in trouble.

you sighed softly, setting your chopsticks down.

“do you want to explain what happened?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “the school said you were fighting again.”

he didn’t answer.

the only sound was the scrape of metal against ceramic as he dragged his fork through his rice.

you tried again, a little firmer this time. “this is the third time this semester. you can’t just keep getting into fights every time someone says something you don’t like.”

still nothing.

across the table, sukuna sat quietly with his drink in one hand, leaning slightly back in his chair. he hadn’t said a single word since dinner started. his posture looked relaxed at first glance, but his eyes were fixed on your son the entire time, sharp and observant.

watching.

you leaned forward slightly. “what happened this time?” you asked. “did someone start it, or did you?”

your son scoffed under his breath. the sound was small, but it scraped against your nerves.

“don’t do that,” you said immediately. “i’m asking you a question.”

he rolled his eyes and leaned back further in his chair. “it wasn’t a big deal,” he muttered.

your brows furrowed. “if the school had to call me, it was a big deal.”

another quiet scoff.

“seriously,” you said, the frustration creeping into your voice now. “you need to stop reacting to everything with your fists.”

your son suddenly dropped his fork onto the plate with a loud clatter.

“why do you care so much?” he snapped.

the sharpness of his voice made you pause.

“because you’re getting into fights,” you said slowly. “because i’m your parent and it is my business.”

he laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

“yeah. sure.”

you stared at him, disbelief creeping into your expression.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

your son finally looked up, irritation written all over his face now. “it means you should mind your fucking business sometimes,” he snapped. the words landed hard across the table. for a moment the room went completely still. “watch your language,” you said, stunned.

but he wasn’t done.

“or what?” he shot back, voice rising. “you’re just gonna keep nagging me about it?”

your voice hardened. “don’t talk to me like that.”

your son pushed his chair back slightly with a harsh scrape. “then stop acting like everything i do is the end of the world,” he snapped. “maybe you should just shut the fuck up for once.”

the sentence barely finished leaving his mouth before the atmosphere in the room changed. sukuna’s glass touched the table with a quiet, controlled clink. it was the first sound he had made all dinner.

your son didn’t notice immediately, still breathing hard from the argument.

but then sukuna spoke.

“get up.”

the voice was calm.

low.

your son froze. slowly, his eyes shifted toward his father. sukuna was still sitting in his chair, elbows resting on the table now, fingers loosely clasped together as he looked at him.

“you heard me,” he said evenly. “stand up.”

there was no room for argument in the tone. your son hesitated for half a second before slowly pushing himself out of the chair. sukuna leaned back slightly, looking him up and down.

“now,” he said, gesturing lazily toward himself, “say that shit to me.”

confusion flickered across your son’s face.

“…what?”

sukuna’s gaze sharpened.

“you were loud enough when you said it to your mother,” he said calmly. “so go on.”

he tapped a finger lightly against the table.

“say it again. same way you did before.” your son didn’t move.

sukuna tilted his head slightly.

“…what’s wrong?” he asked quietly. “voice disappear all of a sudden?”

the silence stretched.

“that’s what i thought,” sukuna muttered.

he leaned forward slightly now, resting his forearms on the table, eyes locked onto his son’s.

“listen carefully,” he said, his voice still calm but carrying a weight that made the entire room feel smaller. “you wanna run your mouth like that, you do it to someone who can answer back.” his gaze darkened slightly.

“not your mother.”

your son swallowed. sukuna continued, tone steady but cutting. “yelling at her like that doesn’t make you tough,” he said. “doesn’t make you a man.” he scoffed quietly.

“makes you weak.”

the word landed heavy. your son’s shoulders stiffened. sukuna stood up slowly then, his chair sliding back against the floor. even standing across the table, the difference in presence was overwhelming.

he stepped closer, towering slightly.

“you ever raise your voice at her like that again,” he said calmly, “i’ll knock you out before you finish the sentence.”

the threat wasn’t loud. it didn’t need to be. your son stared straight ahead, jaw tight. sukuna studied him for another second before speaking again, his voice lowering slightly. “you’re better than whatever shit you just pulled right there.”

the words were firm.

final.

his gaze flicked briefly toward you before returning to his son. “so start acting like it.”

the kitchen fell silent again. and this time, your son didn’t say another word.

more papa!kuna here

© 2026 whasabi all rights reserved.

[ackshuallyvalerie]

Viking Sukuna! Full is available on my Þátᚱ3øᚢ - softy kuna to be specific xD

[mad-katsuki]

gotta make this in sims somehow

[chososkink]

it’s pulsing his name rn

[amourarchive]

fratboy sukuna and his narcoleptic girlfriend

narcolepsy = a condition characterised by an extreme tendency to fall asleep whenever in relaxing surroundings

likes, reblogs, comments are encouraged!!

a/n : hii guys!! weekly updates are starting, unfortunately next week may be a little delayed as i have a concert, my friends bday, my bday and a lot of other things!! please be patient

frat parties are basically just expensive naps in cute outfits for you everyone else shows up to parties to drink, dance, or cause problems on purpose.

you?

you show up in your cutest miniskirt, glitter on your eyelids, hair perfect.... and then promptly fall asleep on frat boy sukuna shoulder the moment the bass drops.

frat boy sukuna is this terrifying, tatted, broad-shouldered frat demon leaning against the wall with a cup in hand…

and you’re just curled into him like he’s your personal pillow.

frat boy gojo, already was drunk.. “bro she came dressed like she was gonna party but shes literally unconscious on you??”

frat boy sukuna, petting your hair aggressively whilst side eyeing him “she IS partying thank you. now shut the hell up.”

the frat literally dont know you properly

like. at all.

they’ve “seen” you.

they’ve “met” you.

but speaking to you?

a conversation??

impossible.

frat boy toji once tried to introduce himself while you were sitting on the couch. you nodded politely… then immediately slumped sideways into the cushions and passed out.

he stared for a solid ten seconds before muttering, “is she alive or does this place need an exorcism again.”

frat boy nanami doesn’t even attempt anymore. he just nods at your sleeping body like “good afternoon.”

frat boy geto covers you with a blanket every time he walks by. frat boy gojo has a photo album titled 'y/n doing absolutely nothing.'

you’ve been to this frat house hundreds of times. they know your sleep schedule better than your major.

accidental date naps..

frat boy sukuna plans dates.

and genuinely tries.

drives you out to a cute pier at sunset? you fall asleep five minutes into the ride.

movie night? you’re asleep before the opening credits.

picnic on the lawn? you fell asleep on the sandwich he made you.

frat boy sukuna used to get annoyed like, “c’mon woman,”

but now frat boy sukuna just tucks you under his hoodie, kisses your forehead, and finishes both meals because “waste of money my ass.”

sometimes you wake up halfway through a date and go,

“wasn’t I supposed to be doing something?”

and he just deadpans

“yeah. kissing me.”

trying to keep you awake is the funniest, saddest thing on earth

if you haven’t had a nap, you turn into a sleepy, blinking, barely coherent little creature.

frat boy sukuna can spot it instantly across campus...

the slow steps, the long blinks, the soft sway in place.

frat boy sukuna whispers, “oh hell nah,” under his breath and starts jogging to you.

you see frat boy sukuna, smile tiredly, open your arms…

and then plop.

you fall forward into his chest and knock out standing up..

he just catches you like muscle memory.

"bruh i need to get to the other side of the campus now"

waking you up = his personal boss battle

frat boy sukuna has tried EVERYTHING.

shaking you? doesn’t work.

calling your name? no reaction.

kissing your cheek? nothing but a little snore.

one time frat boy sukuna got desperate and said, “i’m breaking up with you.” and immediately regretted saying that except..

you didn’t even flinch.

he felt INSULTED.

frat boy gojo, chaotic angel, once set his military-level alarm next to your ear.. and well...

that thing could resurrect the dead.

you didn’t even twitch.

frat boy sukuna almost passed out from laughter and despair at the same time.

how you met.. and possibly being the most adorable crisis of his life

high school frat boy sukuna working part-time at a small café near his house was not on your bingo card..

but there he was, grumpy apron, hands always busy, pretending not to stare at you every time you walked in after school for your daily tiramisu.

frat boy sukuna thought you were cute in that soft, dreamy, out-of-his-league way.

but he was WORKING.

he tried to focus.

until closing time, when he noticed you still at your table… head down… completely still.

he froze.

oh my god.

was the cute girl DEAD?!

he poked your shoulder like it might explode.

nothing.

panic. full panic

frat boy sukuna was so getting fired and not having public holiday extra pay.

the manager came out, laughed, and whispered,

“she has narcolepsy..she explained it to me when she fell asleep like this"

sukuna stood there like .... narco what a what

googled it that night.

learned everything.

pretended it didn't concern him.

it concerned him a LOT.

the frat drags you both to some neon 80’s themed diner.

it’s loud, bright, full of music..

and you are fighting for your LIFE to stay awake.

you’re sitting in the red booth next to frat boy sukuna, eyes slowly drooping, head dipping forward.

everyone watches in real time as you lose the battle with sleep.

“bro she’s lagging slowly.” – frat boy gojo

“she’s at 1%.” – frat boy geto

“plug her in.” – frat boy toji

whilst frat boy nanami rolls his eyes

“all of you shut up.” – frat boy sukuna

you finally slump over into frat boy sukuna shoulder and he immediately throws his arm around you like it’s completely normal. he feeds you fries while you’re basically unconscious.

frat boy sukuna is stupidly in love for sure

frat boy sukuna pretends he’s grumpy, but yet carries emergency blankets, snacks, and even a tiny travel pillow in his backpack now.

frat boy sukuna slows down his walking pace because you’re always sleep-stumbling.

frat boy sukuna checks your meds, your schedule, your comfort. he even gives you his hoodies because “it’s softer. you sleep better in it.”

and every time someone asks how you two even work, frat boy sukuna just shrugs

“she sleeps. i watch. that’s basically love.”

pretends he’s annoyed, but actually melts every time you fall asleep on him.

frat boy sukuna always carries an emergency hoodie for you to nap in.

frat boy sukuna knows all your triggers, all your sleep tells, all the ways to wake you gently when necessary.

frat boy sukuna claims he doesn’t care, but the frat caught him reading a medical article about narcolepsy on his phone at 2am.

frat boy sukuna calls you “sleepy baby” when he’s teasing and “baby” when he’s genuinely worried.

jealous frat boy sukuna, except you slept through the ENTIRE misunderstanding

it starts because some guy in your lecture... let's call him harmless biology boy

he tries to wake you up after you fell asleep mid-class by gently tapping your shoulder.

you blink awake, mumble, “mm… thanks,” and promptly fall back asleep on his arm.

biology boy freezes like he just got chosen by a forest spirit.

someone sends frat boy sukuna a picture with "yo aint this ur girl?"

frat boy sukuna sees the snap of you sleeping on another man's limb like it's a premium memory foam pillow.

frat boy sukuna storms into the building looking like he’s about to commit third-degree educational homicide...

only to find you… STILL asleep on this poor dude, who is clearly rethinking every decision he’s ever made.

frat boy sukuna just stands over him like a shadow.

biology boy lifts his hands.

“sir… i didn’t… she just...."

“yeah. she does that,” frat boy sukuna sighs, scooping you up like a giant grumpy crane.

you wake up later, curled on his chest in his dorm, and go, “huh? weren’t we in class?”

frat boy sukuna just grunts and kisses your forehead because he cannot stay mad at the human embodiment of a warm blanket.

frat reacting the first time you stay awake for more than 2 hours

it’s a historic day in the house.

you come in for movie night.

you’re awake.

you sit on the couch.

you’re still awake.

30 minutes pass.

you’re STILL awake.

frat boy gojo is the first to notice... “SUKUNA. WE’RE WITNESSING A MIRACLE.”

frat boy geto brings out his phone like a nature documentary narrator.

frat boy nanami knows that this moment wont last long with your energy levels.

frat boy toji deadass checks your pulse and forehead because his brain refuses to accept it.

even frat boy sukuna is staring at you suspiciously, like,

“…what’s wrong with you?”

you shrug, “i slept earlier,”

and the whole frat SCATTERS like pigeons.

the longer you stay awake, the more unstable they get.

90 minutes in and frat boy gojo is pacing.

“she’s still conscious. bro do we call someone??”

eventually, you lean on frat boy sukuna arm, still awake, and he looks so proud it’s embarrassing.

“good girl, keep them insane for me” he mutters.

you fall asleep 10 seconds later.

frat balance restored.

you tend to sleep talk but you rather have sleep-talking confessions about him

frat boy sukuna pretends he doesn’t care when you sleep-talk.

he cares A LOT.

one time you fell asleep on his bed while he was playing a game. halfway through, you mumbled,

“mm… ‘kuna… love…”

frat boy sukuna froze, controller slipping from his hands. looked back at you like you’d just recited poetry. “what’d you say?”

you snored in response.

another time, curled in his hoodie, you whispered, “love you… even when you’re scary…”

frat boy sukuna actually had to sit down on the floor for a second because it hit him so hard.

the next day he was extra gentle, opening doors, carrying you everywhere, glaring at anyone who breathed too close.

you asked raising a brow, “why are you being so… soft?”

he grumbled “shut up” and tucked you into a blanket more aggressively.

the first time you sleep on him by not accident.....

you ALWAYS fall asleep accidentally ... on his chest, on his arm, on the table, on the ground, on a textbook, everywhere.

so the day you walk into his room, sit next to frat boy sukuna, and intentionally curl up against him…

he short-circuits.

like full glitch.

frat boy sukuna stiffens for a second because he’s not used to you choosing sleep position deluxe edition on him without warning. “what’s this about?” he mutters.

and you quietly say, “i wanted to nap with you this time.” and then knock out immediately.

frat boy sukuna does not move for TWO HOURS because “if she chose me on purpose, i’m not friggin shifting an inch.”

frat boy gojo bursts in during that two hours and frat boy sukuna throws a shoe at him with sniper accuracy.

later, frat boy sukuna admits (in his own grumpy way), “…it was nice.” translation: he wants it to happen again and he's already hearing the wedding beels

one time you accidentally fall asleep to frat boy sukuna mid-confession

one day frat boy sukuna is holding your face gently, looking at you like he wants to say something big.

you’re blinking slow.

very slow.

a little to slow for liking...

dangerously slow.

“hey,” he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek,

“i… i think i—”

you fall asleep on frat boy sukuna palm.

frat boy sukuna has never known defeat so intimately.

frat boy sukuna just sighs, rests his forehead against yours, and murmurs, “yeah. yeah. i love you too. whatever.”

more chaos, more softness, more frat stupidity, more you sleeping everywhere

“meet the parents” is easy they say except you fall asleep infrat boy sukuna mother’s arms

frat boy sukuna swears he’s not nervous.

he lies.

he’s pacing, fixing his shirt, muttering threats to inanimate objects like,

“she better not fall asleep during introductions or I’ll— actually no she will. damn it.”

you walk in to meet his mother and immediately she LOVES you.

you’re soft-spoken, polite, sleepy-eyed, adorable ... basically everything frat boy sukuna isn’t.

and what she wanted LOL

midway through conversation, you blink slowly.

then slower.

then your head tilts just a little..

and frat boy sukuna mom instantly swoops in like a reflex.

she catches you in her arms before you can even slump forward and holds you like you’re her own child.

you fall asleep on her instantly.

frat boy sukuna stands there, horrified.

“MA. what the hell.”

she smiles at him, rocking you gently.

“she’s precious. don’t raise your voice.”

“…what is happening right now?”

frat boy sukuna dad comes in, sees you asleep on his wife, nods respectfully and goes, “she fits right in.”

sukuna’s heart does an embarrassing little flip.

fratboy sleepover chaos.. but the rule is “DON’T WAKE Y/N”

the frat decides to have a sleepover in the living room (for reasons no one remembers — probably frat boy gojo).

you’re there on frat boy sukuna lap, already 100% unconscious.

the boys agree on one universal rule: if anyone wakes up y/n, they’re dead.

the house becomes a sacred silent zone.

frat boy toji drops a beer can? death stare from everyone.

frat boy gojo tries to tell a story too loudly and gets tackled mid-sentence by frat boy geto.

frat boy nanami is making sure nothing hits the floor

frat boy sukuna sits with you curled in HIS hoodie on HIS lap, arms around you like a territorial bear.

frat boy gojo whispers, “bro you’re holding her like she’s a ticking bomb.” frat boy sukuna whispers back, “she IS. she explodes into tears when she wakes up abruptly so back off.”

“oh. fair.”

at one point someone sneezes and the whole house goes silent — all eyes on you.

you shift a little…

everyone holds their breath…

then you settle back into sleep.

the group collectively exhales like a SWAT team after defusing a bomb.

exams approaching = narcolepsy flaring up = protective boyfriend mode ACTIVATED

when you’re stressed, you get sleepier.

when you’re sleepier, you fall asleep in even dumber places.

frat boy sukuna finds you.. in weird areas not like you dont already do that already..

you're slumped over your laptop

you're asleep on your open notebook

you're asleep in the library stacks

you're asleep sitting straight up like an unplugged robot

once, asleep in a hallway corner like a sim that glitched

frat boy sukuna picks you up every single time, muttering, “you’re gonna get bad back problems sleeping like this and blame it on me.”

frat boy sukuna starts making schedules FOR you! nap times, study breaks, snack breaks, hydration reminders.. stuff he pretends is “for efficiency” but is actually because he’s worried sick.

frat boy sukuna quizzes you gently while you’re half-asleep against him.

frat boy sukuna carries you to his bed and forces you to nap when you’re too stubborn.

frat boy sukuna even gets frat boy nanami to help organise your study materials because he “trusts no one else except boring-ass frat boy nanami with her grades.”

the day you finally finish exams, you fall asleep in his arms before even celebrating. he wraps you in his hoodie and whispers,

“good job, my sleepy baby.”

jealous YOU!

everyone always focuses on jealous frat boy sukuna…

but jealous YOU?

it’s adorable.

you don’t get angry.

you just… quietly malfunction.

if a girl tries to flirt with frat boy sukuna at a party, you don’t fight — you simply fall asleep ON HIM like a little koala claiming her tree.

“omg sukuna, your tattoos are sooo—"

whist you climbs onto his lap like a koala and immediately sleeps

“…did she just—”

frat boy sukuna, would be proud for sure...

or if a girl touches frat boy sukuna?

you take his hand, hold it to your chest like a teddy bear, and doze off. instant dominance.

passive but powerful.

one time a girl asked for frat boy sukuna number and before he could tell her off, you gently leaned your head against his shoulder and fell asleep holding onto his shirt.

he kissed the top of your head and said, “yeah, no. I’m good.”

the girl disappeared like she saw a ghost.

[bonzirella]

𐔌 . . . 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 ꒱

✧ sukuna swears he's not courting the goddess of love . . . he's just dropping off casual offerings every night, hunting for hours, then pretending like it was effortless! you think he's like a cute, oversized cat trying to impress you. he thinks he's absolutely not in love. both of you are wrong ― sukuna x reader ⋆ incl. fluff, reader is a goddess, described with flowy hair and is considered to be very, very, beautiful, mentions of corpses 𝜗ৎ once again, i apologize for the wait . . . i've been so busy!! but don't worry, i'm working on a fic with scaramouche x blind!reader. . . i'm at 20k words so far. maybe i'll release it as a christmas special ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

It’s late at night—so late the mountain itself seems to dream. The moon hangs thin and sharp above the forest, casting its silver glow over the worn stone steps leading to her shrine. But its faint glow begins to shy away as the hour deepens, clouds drifting in a slow procession to veil its face, as though the heavens themselves wish not to witness what is coming.  

Down the winding path, a shrine sleeps in a quiet clearing. A gentle breeze rustles the foliage around it, then stills entirely, as if even the wind dared not make a sound. The creatures of the forest follow, rabbits freezing mid-step, ears twitching and scurrying into their burrows. Birds tucking their heads beneath their wings, hiding in the trees. The restless night insects chirp their last notes and fall silent. 

For every night, at this same hour, the mountain prepares itself, holding its breath for the man who inevitably comes. 

Tonight is no different. Heavy, deliberate footfalls that can be attributed to no other man besides Ryomen Sukuna echo through the forest. He moves like a stone statue, a god who is so sure of his place in the world—broad-shouldered, blood-splattered, carrying two mangled bodies over one arm. They dangle like broken marionettes, and from afar it is impossible to tell what type of creature they once were. In his other hand, a cloth bundle swings with each step, two severed heads knocking softly together, blood dripping slowly onto the roots that dare crawl over his path. 

By the time he reaches the red torii gate, the air has thickened with the smell of iron, alerting the shrine maidens that he has arrived. They straighten with wide eyes, not daring to look at him even though they are under your protection. They bow low, greeting him. 

He does not grant them a glance; he is a storm that acknowledges no raindrop. 

“Offerings for the goddess,” he announces, his voice carrying the weight of what the world has forgotten.

And then he sees you.  

You sit bathed in a lantern glow, a soft, eternal light woven into human shape. Your robes are as white as moonmilk, your hair cascading down like a river of starlight. You lean over a fragile sprout in a small clay pot, a delicate thing you’ve been coaxing back towards life. Beside it, your untouched tea steams softly. 

You turn your head towards him, and Sukuna lets everything drop to the floor with a thud that echoes through the shrine walls, like the sound of a heavy beast kneeling. It’s violent, possessive, meant to impress, to say I am strong enough to bring the world to its knees if you asked. Look at what I can conquer for you. Look at what I would drag to your feet if only you said the word. 

Your shrine maidens flinch before quickly gathering the remains and hurrying them to a separate chamber. You watch them silently. 

Then, your gaze returns to him. 

You rise without a sound. You do not step as much as glide, your bare feet never fully touching the floor, moving through the air like water deciding to ripple. A faint opalescent shimmer blooms around your figure, the gentle glow of love manifested. 

To the world, you are the kind of peace that humbles armies yet causes wars. 

To yourself, you are only a lonely goddess sitting in a quiet shrine on a forgotten mountain. 

But to Sukuna, you are impossibly beautiful—so beautiful his heart aches and he wishes to ruin everyone who looks at you with the wrong intentions, to bring down whole nations just to lay them at your feet. Even a million praises from his mouth would not be enough to revere all your glory.

He stares at you, moonstruck, like a teenage boy who has just fallen in love. 

You suppress a smile, choosing instead to  look at the carnage he brought, then back to him—his bloody hands, his face (which usually has a cruel smile or sadistic glee, now with a lovestruck smile), the pride he tries and fails to hide. Your expression softens with a warm amusement that brings a flush to his cheeks and makes him feel strange flutters in his body. 

You lift a hand, your fingers brush a cut on his shoulder, and a warm light emanates from your touch, gentle as dawn. The cut is gone 

“So you’ve come again,” you murmur, voice like cool spring water. Not startled by him nor his violence, not now, not ever. 

Your gaze drifts briefly as the shrine maidens struggle to carry the mangled bodies. Then, you gift Sukuna a smile that could unravel even the strongest of warriors, “You work so very hard to bring me such things. You do not need to, your presence alone is offering enough.” 

Cute, you think, although it’s a scandalous thought for a goddess of your caliber. A mighty demon god like him bringing offerings to your feet like a cat presenting its kill to the one person it trusts will never fail to amuse you. Yet, it lights your heart ablaze with the hope that perhaps he truly loves you, that perhaps this isn’t just another egoistical god trying to win you over like a trophy.

However, you know better than anyone how dangerous it is to hope too much. So, you do not let him know the inner workings of your heart out of fear that his true nature is far too cruel for your delicate heart. 

But you will wait for him. Until your heart is ready, you will indulge in his nightly visits. 

Sukuna scoffs, crossing his arms, making sure his multiple mouths don’t betray anything foolish.

“Tch. I don’t work hard. These things practically ran into my hands.” 

They did not. He hunted them for hours. You both know this.

You drift closer until you are standing inches from him, close enough that he can see his reflection in your eyes. “You always bring such fierce, powerful creatures,” your fingers move to tame a stray lock of his unruly hair, voice low with admiration. “You must think very deeply about me to choose them.”

You mean it earnestly. But to Sukuna, it sounds like you’re praising a child for showing you a frog, and praise from you burns hotter than sunlight. 

He bristles, cheeks heating despite himself. “I’m not—It’s not—” He scowls, stutters, desperate not to look flustered. He, the god who has never been flustered. 

You smile softly, unshakably kind. A smile he has never received from worshippers, from enemies, not from anyone. You cup his cheeks as though holding something precious and dangerous in equal measure, “You owe me no explanation,” you whisper, “I understand.” 

Of course you do. You understand the language of the heart even when it speaks through blood. You press your forehead to his, your breath brushing his lips. For a moment, the shrine breathes with you, its beams stretching, lanterns flickering with a life of their own. 

And somehow, he—Sukuna Ryomen, demon god of calamity—fell headlong into something he did not have a name for, all because you are the only being who does not cower before him. 

You reach out, fingertips brushing against his now-closed eyes, feather-light, without fear.

“Thank you, Sukuna,” you whisper, “you always come to me so faithfully.”

Your touch is so gentle. He nearly forgets to breathe.

“Don’t—Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbles, looking away. Yet his hands softly trail up your spine, too gentle for the murders they have caused, and he pulls you close to his chest, looking up at the ceiling to mask the flush on his face. 

You just laugh, soft as a feather that clings to you, soft as drifting petals or as the silk of your clothes, because you know exactly what he’s doing.

And you find it impossibly, painfully endearing.

© 2025 bonzirella . . . . . . . . interested? read more here

[tojxir]

Batman!Toji who has been hearing of recent huge heists that have caused Gotham City to go into a stir, all of the pieces that were being stolen within Gotham’s famous art gallery, known to hold some of the most famous pieces of history. Owned by none other than Toji Fushiguro. With how at large these artifacts are going for, these heists are being rumored to have been done by one extremely talented cat thief. One that is very notorious in Gotham City.

Batman!Toji who immediately knows it’s you, his gorgeous, gifted, ex-wife—who oh so happens to be the Catwoman. He had a hunch it was you ever since news broke out about the stolen relics, but it became obvious when he walks in the day after one of the most recent heists—and almost all of the rare cat artifacts in a section of the building are gone. Only three claw scratches are left at the scene, courtesy of you, of course. It was a message. A slightly petty one, but it was a message nonetheless. To him.

Batman!Toji who finds himself on Fushiguro Tower, hidden in the shadows as he watches you snicker as police helicopters from above and cars from below are all frantically scouring the Arkham night to find the damned thief. Toji himself can’t help but belt out a laugh too—laugh in utter amusement and goddamn arousal at the sight of you. It’s been—how many months? 5? 6? yet it felt like an entire year since he last saw you, which was when you two were leaving the courthouse after officially getting divorced.

Batman!Toji who is immediately impressed and turned on by the way you’re catching him off guard and hauling him in by the foot towards you, your trusty cat whip secured around one of his ankles and yank!, finding his legs becoming locked together, forcing himself to be laid flat on his back at your discretion. “Bat” is what you’re gritting out, eyes burning with disdain and a hint of… pining(?) at his presence—and all of the emotions that were surging through him from when he once watched you walk away from his life come back at full force.

Batman!Toji who is trying to keep himself from having his hard, aching boner appear in his suddenly too-tight suit. But with the way your pressing the sole of your boot into his crotch, effectively giving his hard-on that pressure that he needed oh so badly. He can’t help the way he’s grinning in a sleazy way at you. Really, he can’t! How could he when you look just as beautiful as the day he let himself lose you? And watching your eyes widen in pure surprise, he realized that he said that last part out loud. Ah, his mistake. Or maybe saving grace.

Batman!Toji who finds himself bickering—more like flirting—with you once more as you two immediately begin to argue as the first conversation you’d have after months since the divorce. Names are being thrown, hisses and grunts are being made, and a few curses here and there before you’re finding yourself being pulled onto his lap, and before you know it—your mouths are on each other, tasting each other’s shared breaths as if the other would burn if you didn’t. You’re raking your hands up, up, up to grip onto his wide shoulders, digging your nails into his flesh and smiling as your ex-husband winces.

Batman!Toji who is quickly zipping you two into the night with his grappling hook, in which you curse at him for doing so without at least warning you. But your remarks die down in your throat when you two are entering into one of his penthouses within the city by a conveniently opened window—and he’s immediately tossing you onto the king-sized bed right beside it. You don’t even have time to make a bratty comment after taking your cowl off once he’s throwing off his own and crawling towards you, gripping the sheer meat on your thighs as he settles in between your legs.

Batman!Toji who ends up finding out just how much more training you’ve been doing since the last time he’s seen you. Because he’s being the one who’s used as an example of said training when you’re wrapping your legs around his head, and flipping your position with such ease so you can sit on his face, bringing his arms up to the headboard, tying his wrists to it by using your cat whip. All while staring down at him with that twinkling, sultry expression that always reminds him of how quick you made him fall onto his knees practically since the day he met you.

Batman!Toji who has zero complaints of where he’s ended up now. Being tied up by the city’s most dangerous and cunning thief would be terrifying to most, but to Toji? This man is exactly where he wants to be. So when you’re slowly zipping your catsuit down, making sure the teasing is agonizing enough to drive him up the wall, and whispering a “Missed me that bad, Bat?”— he understands that he now knows what heaven looks and feels like, because it’s you. And the crimson red box in his pocket that pressed against him was a reminder that he’d make sure to put your ring back onto your finger later on in the night.

A/N : HELLO MY LOVES COLLEGE HAS BEEN TAKING MY LYFFEEE. but i finally got something out for kinktober </3 this was inspired by @/tonycries and my obsession with superhero jjk men (and toji),, but this isn’t the end of it i promise!! nerdjo is otw with a special twist hehe

[mad-katsuki]

#need dat

[cherryscript]

𓍯𓂃 ATTENTION SEEKER

SUM : ( megumi fushiguro x f!reader ) — your so called nonchalant boyfriend said he doesn't need your attention to sound cool so you give him the taste of his own medicine.

✰ CW : fluff, crack and chaos, megumi is silent panicking & suffering, happy ending :D . . . ᭪ wc : 1.4k

✰ A/N : we put men in their places, amen 🧘🏽‍♀️🙌🏽

Megumi Fushiguro was not the type to make a scene. Cool, composed, maybe a little brooding—his whole vibe screamed I don’t care, and he leaned into it like it was his brand. So when Yuji asked him, all bright-eyed and curious, how things were going with you, his girlfriend, Megumi just shrugged, leaned back against the dorm couch, and muttered, “I don’t need her attention.”

He thought it sounded cool. Detached. Mysterious. Like the kind of guy who didn’t sweat the small stuff, you know? Yuji just blinked at him, scratching his head, and went, “Uh, okay, dude, but… you sure about that?” Megumi waved it off, all nonchalant, thinking he’d just scored some edgy boyfriend points.

Big mistake. Huge.

You, being the absolute chaos gremlin you were, overheard the whole thing. Not because you were eavesdropping—okay, maybe you were lingering by the vending machine a little too long—but the dorm walls were thin, and Megumi’s voice carried when he was trying to act tough. “I don’t need her attention,” he’d said. Oh, really? Really? Your eyes narrowed, and a grin spread across your face, one that would’ve made even Sukuna pause and go, “Uh-oh.”

If Megumi wanted to play the “I’m too cool for attention” card, you were about to give him a masterclass in what that actually looked like. Operation: Cold Shoulder Chaos was officially launched.

The next morning, Megumi woke up to… silence. No good-morning text from you, no random meme about a cat that “looks like him” (your words, not his), no you bursting into his room to steal his hoodie because “it smells like you, duh.” Nothing. He frowned, checking his phone. Maybe you overslept? Weird, but fine. He’d see you at training.

Except when he got to the training field, you were already there, laughing with Nobara, tossing a water bottle back and forth like you didn’t have a care in the world. Megumi approached, expecting you to turn around, maybe throw a playful jab his way like usual. Instead, you glanced at him, gave a polite little nod—like he was just some random classmate—and went right back to joking with Nobara.

His eye twitched. “Yo,” he said, trying to catch your attention.

“Oh, hey, Fushiguro,” you replied, all casual, like you were addressing a coworker. Fushiguro? Since when did you call him by his last name? He froze, but you were already walking off with Nobara, giggling about some new bubble tea place.

Yuji, who’d witnessed the whole thing, sidled up to him. “Uh, dude, you good? She’s acting… weird.”

“She’s fine,” Megumi muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. But he wasn’t so sure. The rest of training was a disaster. You paired up with Yuji for sparring, complimented Nobara’s new boots, even high-fived Panda like he was your new bestie. Megumi? Nada. Not a single glance his way. When he tried to catch your eye, you were suddenly very interested in tying your shoe.

By lunch, he was starting to sweat. You sat across from him at the table, but instead of your usual routine—stealing fries off his plate or nudging his foot under the table—you were scrolling through your phone, laughing at something Maki sent you. Megumi cleared his throat. “You, uh, okay?”

“Hm?” You looked up, all innocent. “Oh, yeah, I’m great. You don’t need my attention, right?” You flashed a smile that was equal parts sweet and diabolical, then went back to your phone.

Yuji choked on his soda. Nobara snorted so loud she nearly fell off her chair. Megumi’s face burned, and he realized, with a sinking feeling, that you’d heard him. Oh no.

The rest of the day was a nightmare. You were everywhere, but somehow untouchable. You helped Gojo organize his stupid cursed technique flashcards, chatted with Toge about his latest manga obsession, and even roped Yuji into some ridiculous TikTok dance that had everyone in stitches—everyone except Megumi, who was standing off to the side, gripping his water bottle so hard it crunched.

He tried to play it cool, too. Two could play this game. He wasn’t going to beg for your attention. So he leaned against a wall, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t care, even though he was checking your X posts every five seconds to see if you’d tagged him in anything. (You hadn’t. You did, however, post a selfie with Yuji captioned “Bestie vibes only 😎,” which made Megumi’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to analyze.)

By dinner, he was unraveling. You were sitting with Maki, talking about some new horror movie, and when Megumi sat down nearby, you didn’t even acknowledge him. He tried to join the conversation—“I’ve seen that one. It’s not that scary”—but you just hummed and said, “Cool, good to know,” before turning back to Maki.

Yuji, ever the loyal wingman, leaned over and whispered, “Bro, I think she’s mad. Did you do something?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Megumi hissed back, but his voice cracked just enough to betray him. Yuji’s eyes widened.

“Dude, you’re panicking.”

“I’m not panicking,” Megumi snapped, but he was. He so was. His cool-guy facade was crumbling faster than a sandcastle at high tide.

That night, he couldn’t take it anymore. You were in the common room, curled up on the couch with a book, looking perfectly content without him. No teasing, no cuddling, no nothing. Just you, existing, like he wasn’t even there. He stood in the doorway, fidgeting, trying to channel his inner Gojo and come up with something smooth to say. Instead, he blurted, “You’re being weird.”

You looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Weird? Me? Nah, I’m just chilling. You don’t need my attention, right?” You flipped a page in your book, cool as a cucumber.

Megumi’s jaw clenched. “That’s not what I meant.”

You tilted your head, all mock confusion. “Oh? Then what did you mean, Fushiguro?”

He flinched at the last name again. “Stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what? Your name?” You were smirking now, and it was driving him up the wall.

“You know what I mean,” he growled, stepping closer. “You’re ignoring me.”

“Am I?” you said, closing your book with a dramatic snap. “I thought you were too cool for that. Mister ‘I don’t need her attention.’ Sound familiar?”

He froze, face flushing redder than Yuji’s hoodie. “You… heard that?”

“Yup.” You stood up, crossing your arms. “And I figured, hey, if you don’t need my attention, I’ll just give it to literally everyone else. No biggie.”

Megumi wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “That’s not—I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just… trying to sound… cool.”

You burst out laughing, and he felt his soul leave his body. “Oh my god, Megumi, you absolute dork,” you wheezed, doubling over. “You thought that was cool? That was the most main character syndrome thing I’ve ever heard.”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Can you just… forget I said it?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “But I might forgive you if you admit you’re obsessed with my attention.”

“I’m not obsessed,” he muttered, but his ears were practically glowing.

“Say it,” you teased, stepping closer and poking his chest. “Say, ‘I, Megumi Fushiguro, am obsessed with my girlfriend’s attention and will never take it for granted again.’”

He glared at you, but there was no heat behind it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re whipped,” you shot back, grinning. “Say it, or I’m spending all day tomorrow teaching Yuji how to make heart-shaped pancakes.”

That did it. Megumi sighed, defeated, and mumbled, “I, Megumi Fushiguro, am… obsessed with your attention and won’t take it for granted again.”

You clapped your hands, triumphant. “Good boy!” Before he could protest, you grabbed his hoodie strings, yanked him down to your level, and planted a quick kiss on his lips. He blinked, stunned, his face a mix of embarrassment and something softer.

“Don’t do that again,” he grumbled, but he was already pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he’d been starving for it all day.

“No promises,” you singsonged, but you melted into him, your laughter muffled against his chest. “But maybe I’ll go easy on you. Just don’t try to act cool again. It’s not your brand.”

He sighed, resting his chin on your head. “Noted.”

From the doorway, Yuji’s voice rang out. “Aww, you guys are so cute! Can I join the hug?”

“NO!” you and Megumi shouted in unison, and Yuji pouted, retreating with a dramatic, “Fiiiine, I’ll go hug Panda instead.”

Megumi buried his face in your hair, muttering, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Nope,” you said, grinning. “But you love me anyway.”

He didn’t say anything, but the way he held you tighter said it all.

[ibuprofein-deactivated20250831]

boyfriend! sukuna x reader

↳ ❝ [tattoo artist sukuna who owns a tattoo shop & his polar opposite girlfriend who loves to visit his shop. reader has a sweet tooth for desserts and sukuna.] ¡! ❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The soft chime of the bell above the tattoo shop door barely registers over the low thrum of buzzing machines and heavy metal music leaking from the speakers. The space smells like antiseptic, ink, and a touch of weed that clings to the walls even when no one’s smoking.

But the second you step in, the entire vibe shifts.

You’re a vision in a baby pink dress that hugs your curves so well, your glossed lips curved in a smile and arms full with a pink bakery box. Your presence is instant sugar to the testosterone-heavy air.

Geto glances up from behind the front desk and grins. “The cupcake fairy’s back.”

“Someone better marry her before I do,” Choso mutters around a toothpick, already reaching for the box you’re carrying.

“You’re all ridiculous,” you laugh, handing it off as Maki leans against the wall with arms crossed, eyes scanning the label.

“Sukuna better be on his knees for this,” Maki says, cracking open the box to reveal perfectly iced cupcakes in flavors she’ll never admit are her favorite.

“Oh, he’ll be on his knees eventually,” you hum with a wink that earns a laugh from Geto and a raised brow from Toji as he walks past.

“He’s with a client,” Geto says with a nod toward the back. “Told us not to bug him.”

“When do I ever listen to that?” you giggle, glancing over your shoulder.

But first—you chat. Leaning on the counter, you joke about the wild Yelp review someone left. You compliment Maki’s new piercings. Let Toji flirt with you for five seconds before you roll your eyes. But your gaze keeps flicking toward the back, where you know Sukuna is working.

Eventually, you excuse yourself, cupcake in hand, and slip past the “Staff Only” hallway that leads to Sukuna’s private room and the small office he barely uses—except when it’s you on his desk.

His voice rumbles behind the closed door as he speaks to the client—low, commanding. The sound alone has you clenching your thighs.

You close the office door quietly and slip inside, alone, heart beating faster as you slide into the leather chair behind his desk.

You spread your legs slightly, the hem of your dress riding up, and lean back.

Your fingers ghost over the hem of your baby-pink thong, and you exhale, letting yourself sink into the dirty thrill of being just a few feet from him. Sukuna hates being distracted while he works, but you aren’t like anyone else.

Your fingers slip under the thin fabric, soft strokes over your already-throbbing clit. You bite your lip, muffling the whimper that escapes, rubbing slow, teasing circles. Your other hand tugs down the front of your dress, letting your tits spill slightly over your push-up bra.

The thought of him seeing you like this, sprawled in his chair with your pussy already slick for him, makes you wetter.

Outside, the muffled buzz of machines continues. Footsteps. Laughter from the front.

You work yourself up in short, teasing pulses—just enough to make your legs tremble, your lips part in silent moans. You keep yourself quiet, just like he taught you, clenching around nothing as the tension builds.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the sound of a door opening down the hall sends a thrill through your spine. Sukuna’s voice. Low, smug. Saying goodbye to the client.

You quickly sit up, fix your top—barely—and push your panties down your thighs. When the door to the office creaks open—

His eyes lock onto you instantly.

Jaw clenched. Eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything for a full beat, just stares, nostrils flaring at the sight of you flushed and panting with your panties around your thighs.

“You serious?” he growls, voice a low, dangerous thing as he shuts the door behind him and locks it.

You bite your lip and look up at him, sweet as sugar. “I missed you.”

He’s on you in a flash.

Sukuna grabs you by the jaw and kisses you hard, grabbing you by your hips next and lifting you on his desk as his hand yanks your thong the rest of the way off. He doesn’t even undress fully—just unzips his pants enough to free his dick, thick and already hard from hearing your soft moans through the wall.

“I’m fuckin’ working, and this is how you behave?” he mutters against your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip.

“I was quiet,” you whisper back, gasping as he lifts your leg onto the desk, opening you up.

“Not quiet enough,” he growls, pressing the tip against your slick hole and pushing in slowly, painfully deep.

You whine, head falling back, one hand gripping the edge of the desk while the other clutches at his shirt—still tight across his chest, muscles flexing as he holds your hips in place.

He fucks you deep and slow, hips rocking into you with practiced rhythm—controlled, quiet, but intense. The kind of fucking that makes your knees weak and your breath stutter in your chest.

You moan into his shoulder, teeth sinking in to stay quiet, while his fingers dig into your thigh.

“Next time you want attention,” he pants, voice ragged against your ear, “sit your pretty ass in my lap and ask like a good girl.”

“But I like being bad,” you whisper, teasing.

He groans—fucks you harder.

Your back arches, toes curling, trying to stay silent as your orgasm builds fast and messy, just from the thrill of it all. Sukuna kisses you through it, sloppy and possessive, swallowing your cries as you cum on his cock.

He follows with a low grunt, burying himself deep, hips stuttering as he finishes inside you, holding you still so not a drop escapes.

When it’s over, your chest heaving, your legs still shaking, he kisses your cheek and grins.

“Leave those panties behind and I swear—”

“You’ll fuck me again later?” you interrupt sweetly, fixing your dress.

His grin widens. “You’re damn right I will.”

You kiss his cheek one last time, slip out quietly while the team’s distracted, and leave your panties folded neatly on his desk.

Just how he likes it.

After the last client staggered out and the team cleared out with lazy waves and half-finished snacks, Sukuna was left alone to close. The scent of antiseptic and faint vanilla frosting still hung in the air—you always left something behind. This time, it wasn’t just the cupcakes.

Your pink panties sat crumpled on his office desk like a souvenir.

He stared at them for a beat. Ran a rough hand down his face.

Groaned.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he muttered under his breath.

By the time he walked through the front door of the apartment, the lights were low and warm. You’d been here for a while already—your purse tossed on the counter, heels kicked off by the couch. Music played softly in the background, something sultry and bass-heavy that matched the way you moved when you emerged from the hallway.

Wearing nothing but his black tee.

No bra. No panties.

Just bare thighs and your sweet face, lip gloss freshly reapplied.

“Took you long enough,” you pouted playfully, padding over to him on bare feet.

Sukuna dropped his keys in the bowl by the door, eyes devouring you as his tongue rolled across his bottom lip.

“You think you can pull that shit at work and not makeup for it later?”

“I hoped you’d make me suffer,” you said innocently, arms looping around his thick neck. “You know I hate being patient.”

His hands were already gripping your waist, sliding down to your ass as he backed you into the wall. That shirt hung just low enough to cover your pussy, but not from him. He lifted the hem, one hand gripping the back of your thigh to hike your leg around his waist.

“You’re real fuckin’ lucky I barely remembered to even lock the shop door behind me,” he growled into your neck. “Been hard all fuckin’ day thinking about how warm your pussy felt around me in that damn office.”

“I touched myself again when I got home,” you whispered, breath hitching. “Right on the bed. Where you like it.”

Sukuna growled—low and rough. His cock was already straining in his jeans, and he didn’t bother dragging it out. He spun you toward the hallway, slapping your ass as you giggled and ran barefoot to the bedroom.

You’d already ripped his shirt off mid run to the room and laid on the freshly made bed. Already lit the candle you knew made him lose his mind.

When he walked in, shirt tossed off, arms thick and veiny from the long day, you were lying on your back, legs slightly parted, waiting.

“Come here, daddy,” you whispered.

He was on you in seconds.

He kissed you hard, one hand fisting in your hair while the other gripped your throat—not too hard, just enough to make your thighs twitch. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he settled between them, grinding his dick against your slick, needy center through his jeans.

“I should make you wait,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel.

“You won’t,” you said with a wicked little smirk.

He pulled his jeans and boxers down in one pull. No warning. No teasing. Just him—filling you in one heavy thrust, making your nails claw at his back as you gasped his name.

The bed rocked. Your legs wrapped tighter around him. His mouth was on your nipples, your neck, your lips—biting, sucking, tasting. His strokes were rough, deep, and unrelenting, like he had hours of frustration to burn through. You took it all, babbling praise and filthy whispers in his ear.

“Been thinking about this all day,” you gasped. “Wanted you to fuck it out of me.”

“You get off in my fuckin’ office,” he growled, “and then expect me to just wait? Nah, baby. You’re not walkin’ right tomorrow.”

He flipped you on your stomach before you could catch your breath, yanking you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his cock. You cried out into the pillows, the sound muffled as he gripped your hair and drilled into you from behind.

Skin slapping. Breathless moans.

The filthy, wet sounds of your soaked pussy taking him.

He leaned over you, teeth brushing your ear.

“Tell me who fucks you this good.”

“You, Sukuna—fuck—you do—”

“Say it louder.”

“You, daddy!” you moaned, sobbing into the sheets. “You fuck me the best—”

He came with a deep grunt, burying himself inside and holding your hips flush against him. You collapsed beneath him, legs trembling, chest heaving, completely spent and marked.

After a moment, he kissed your back. Slowly. Reverently.

He pulled out, looked down at your messy, ruined pussy, and slapped your ass one more time.

“Go clean up,” he said, breathless and smug. “We’re not done.”

You turned your head just enough to smirk at him, cheeks flushed and hair a mess.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

You woke up with your legs tangled in Sukuna’s sheets and his big hand resting heavy on your thigh, still possessive even in sleep. Your body ached in the best way—his marks were everywhere. Between your legs. Across your neck. Down your chest. The aftermath of a night spent being ruined twice was still fresh in your body.

But what came after that?

Was always the sweetest part.

He took you to your favorite café that morning.

Not a flashy place—just a cozy little corner shop tucked between bookstores and flower stands, the kind of spot with mismatched chairs, cute plates, and chalkboard menus that change every week. He only came here with you. Wouldn’t be caught dead in this place otherwise.

But when you walk in?

He’s already opening the door for you, palm resting at the small of your back, making sure you get your favorite corner seat—the one with the little view of the window and plush cushions.

You’re wearing a matching knitted set with a soft cropped knitted sweater and your knitted leggings, glossy lips and hair held back with a matching knitted headband, and he’s in one of his black hoodies, joggers slung low, sunglasses pushed up on his head. He looks like he just rolled out of bed. You look like his sunshine.

He lets you order for both of you because you know the menu better, and when the barista lights up seeing you and rattles off the new seasonal flavors, Sukuna just waits—wallet already out.

“Strawberry matcha with oat milk.” you chirp, eyes wide and hopeful. “And the strawberry almond crepe, and maybe… that banana nut muffin?”

“You gettin’ every fuckin’ fruit on the board?” he snorts, tossing a card on the counter. “Fine. Whatever. Load it up.”

He adds an espresso for himself and a croissant he won’t finish but always orders because you like stealing bites. You giggle and thank him, lacing your fingers through his as you wait.

By the time your food comes out, Sukuna’s already taken over the seat beside you, arm slung around your chair and his thigh brushing yours. You sip your matcha like it’s the best thing in the world and make the cutest noise, lips pouty and cheeks puffed as you chew on a bite of your crepe.

Sukuna watches you with something close to worship in his eyes.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he says low, biting into his croissant, “but look at you. All quiet with some sugar in front of you.”

You smile mid-chew, humming like the happiest girl alive. “Mmm, I earned this.”

He huffs a laugh, brushing his thumb under your lip to clean a bit of whipped cream you missed. “Damn right you did. Took me like a champ last night.”

You wiggle your brows playfully, mouth full. “Still sore.”

“Good.”

He leans over to kiss your cheek before pulling out his phone to check his notifications—only to groan immediately.

“Choso sent another picture of a half-finished tattoo on someone who bailed halfway through. Pussy couldn’t take the pain,” Sukuna grumbles.

You giggle again, holding up your cup with both hands. “Maybe he needed a muffin like me.”

“Nah, he needed a better pain tolerance and maybe a spine,” Sukuna mutters. “Maki’s been talkin’ shit all morning too. Said she wants a raise just for dealing with Geto’s playlist. I swear if I hear one more 2000s R&B remix while I’m tattooing someone’s ribs, I’m gonna lose it.”

You almost choke on your crepe from laughing. “Be nice, baby.”

“I’m nice to you,” he says with a little side smirk, then leans in and brushes your hair back gently behind your ear. “Always nice to my girl.”

You look at him, cheeks full, lips pouty from biting into the muffin he broke in half and handed you.

“You’re so cute when you eat,” he murmurs. “All quiet and focused. Like I’m not even here.”

“I’m food-motivated,” you say proudly.

“I noticed.” He chuckles, leaning back just to admire you. “Gotta say though… I like you like this. All full, dressed pretty, sittin’ next to me in public looking like a fuckin’ dream.”

You blink at him, softening. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Because of you, dumbass,” he mutters, reaching over to take a sip of your drink. “Even if this tastes like fruit cereal in a blender.”

You laugh. He steals a bite of your crepe.

You nudge his thigh with your knee, and he rubs it back without thinking—always touching you, always grounding himself through your skin. The chaos of the shop, the headache of clients, all of it fades when he’s got you like this.

Sipping sweet shit. Kissing your cheek. Watching you smile.

And for a guy like Sukuna?

That kind of peace is rare.

But you bring it. Every damn time.

[mad-katsuki]

NEED THIS

[heartkaji]

❥ the many times you & suna get caught making out at school.

i. case one : the bleachers, during practice.

suna rintarou makes eye contact with you in between each successful block.

you ignore it. or try to. but your thighs are squeezing & he’s licking lips & you’re mean with want so you decide you can’t wait any longer. kita calls for a water break & you call rintarou to the stands. dumb dog doesn’t even hesitate.

“what.”

you mouth a come here & he raises a brow, but his feet shuffle after you regardless. he helps you over when you’re just about to stumble under the bleachers, & before the poor boy can regain a balance of his own you’re shoving him against the wall like he’s sack wheat.

he grabs your thighs like it’s instinct.

sugar lips. sticky gloss. heavy palm that can’t decide between your back & your throat. you’re pulling him deeper by the collar & he’s tapping your inner thigh desperately as if to say ‘baby baby lemme breathe’

“where the hell is suna?!”

but his tongue is down your throat so you don’t hear kita’s yell. suna’s palming your hips & squeezing your waist & you’re gasping his name while thumbing his neck and—

“AYOOOO,”

atsumu’s pointing to both of you with gaping mouth & widened eyes. “kita i found them! they’re doing foreplay under the—!”

you’re mortified. suna on the other hand? doesn’t even bother to wipe your saliva dribbling down his chin. he stares at atsumu with twitching brows & twisted face.

“you’re so annoying,” / “and you’re so in trouble”

atsumu doubles over as kita comes in & drags suna out by the collar. you on the other hand shuffle out quietly, quick to sneak away before you can fall victim to further embarassment.

★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ STUDENT RECORD.

offense: EXPLICIT BEHAVIOR IN STUDENT GYM

punishment : banned from entering the gym for a week.

issued by: kita shinsuke, sports president.

‘y/n, i expect better from you. and suna, you’re on probation.’

ii. case two : rooftop roughhousing

you think you’re so intelligent.

lunch break & you’re on the school rooftop with a skip in your step. you dragged suna rintarou away from his teammates during lunch & now he trails behind you with hands in his pockets as you hop unto the railing.

thighs crossed. hair in the wind. lopsided grin with blood drenched cheeks & eyes star-achingly bright. “tell me you love me.”

he’s rolling his eyes but his palms find your thighs. “i love you.”

you pout. “say it like you mean it.”

he kisses your neck instead.

you squeal, dodging suna’s kisses as he chases your lips with a grin. he pulls away teasingly before you tug him in by the tie.

you don’t hear the door unlock behind you.

rintarou’s tongue licks your molars. you kiss at his teeth & his thumb grazes your inner thigh as you giggle between his lips. he mutters something about how your gloss tastes like home before a voice sends a jolt down your spine:

“OUT.”

the home room teacher with obnoxious clipboard in hand & outfit desperate to align with the office siren aesthetic. you cling to suna as he quickly lifts you off the railing, palm still gripping your skirt even when he sets you on the ground.

busted.

★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ STUDENT RECORD.

offense: INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONS IN RESTRICTED AREA

punishment: detention.

issued by: madam keqing, homeroom teacher.

‘such behavior is not tolerated on school grounds. should this happen again, parents will be notified immediately.’

iii. case three : security snitching

suna’s tapping your thighs like it’s morse code for ‘mine.’

5PM thursday / behind the school gym / your fingers & suna’s belt loop. the middle blocker’s especially hungry today. god knows that thursdays mean you don’t get to share a single class with the athlete; so on days like this when school is long closed & you think no one’s watching he kisses you like he can’t fucking breathe.

point of empasis: you think no one’s watching.

the security camera overhead gets a front row seat to your antics. suna says your gloss spoils in the heat so you lick him off your wrist like honey. he’s pressing you against the wall with teeth on your earlobe like if he bites a little more you’ll seep into his skin. you let him unbutton your shirt & kiss you till he’s love-drunk & bleary eyed.

friday morning starts off in the vice-principal’s office.

black & white images neatly printed on the desk, a fan that blows just loud enough to cover up your feet tapping. you’re mortified. suna’s fingers, however, drum on your thigh like he’s not in trouble for kissing you silly on a midsummer day.

“what do you have to say for yourselves?”

“crazy work.”

you pinch him under the table. you don’t miss the grin that tugs at his lips as he takes a good look at the photos.

“interesting response, mr.suna,” the vice-principal’s eyes narrow. without them leaving suna he continues, “and ms. l/n ? i expect better from you. both your parents will be notified.”

you’re about to apologize & plead on your behalves, but suna notices the worry in your eyes & beats you to the punch.

“wait,” he clears his throat. “i have an explanation.”

“yes?”

“we’re in love.”

he says it like it’s the cure to all your problems. you resist the urge to slap him (and yourself).

“thank you, you are both dismissed. and again, your parents will be notified.”

busted.

again.

★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ STUDENT RECORD.

offense: EXPLICIT BEHAVIOR ON SCHOOL PROPERTY

punishment: parent report issued, two-day detention and required report on student ethics.

issued by: mr. ayato, vice principal.

‘inarizaki high makes it a point to ensure student safety by strictly prohibiting sexual or explicit acts on the premises. we hope ms.l/n will heed our warnings, regardless of whether or not she is “in love.”

STUDENT CASE STATUS : CLOSED.

© HEARTKAJI 2O25 do not steal, edit, translate, or re-upload.

[mad-katsuki]

need this kinda love

[manicpixiedreamkira]

first times series

first time sleeping over at his place (and he uses his fingers on you) | index

megumi x female!reader, nsfw, mdni

His place smelled like cedarwood and laundry.

You liked that about him—how everything in his apartment felt like him. Books stacked unevenly on shelves. A mug by the window filled with pens and receipts. His sweatshirt slung over the back of the couch where you’d been curled up all night watching a movie together.

By the time the credits rolled, it was late. Too late.

Your voice was quiet when you said, “I should probably head out.”

Megumi didn’t even hesitate.

“You don’t have to.” Soft. But certain. “Stay.” 

You turned to look at him. His face was calm, but his hand squeezed your knee once. Just a little.

You nodded. “Okay.”

His bed was big, quiet with soft sheets and too many pillows.

You changed into one of his shirts.

He offered it without a word, just tossed it to you as you brushed your teeth in his bathroom. It smelled like him. You didn’t bother with pants. When you padded back into his bedroom, barefoot and bare-legged, Megumi looked up from pulling the blanket down and—just for a second—stared.

He didn’t say anything.

Just pulled back the covers. Waited for you to slide in.

The lights were off.

Your backs were to each other. Until you shifted. Rolled toward him. Your hand found his beneath the blanket, fingers curling between his slowly.

He squeezed once.

You scooted closer.

You were just supposed to sleep. That’s what you told yourself. But then his fingers brushed your waist under the covers. Just a touch. And your breath caught.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “You?”

He nodded. His hand stayed there—warm on your hip. Then slid a little lower. Just to your thigh.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded again.

He was the one who kissed you first. Soft. At first. A brush of lips. His nose against yours, warm breath fanning your cheek.

Then deeper.

You made a soft sound into his mouth, hand moving to his chest. He kissed you again—like he was trying to tell you something with it—slow, mouth parting over yours, tongue teasing gently between your lips.

You tugged him closer.

Your legs tangled together beneath the covers as kiss turned urgent. Your thighs pressed together. His hand slipped under your shirt, palm skimming over your back, your ribs, and then up—fingers brushing the curve of your breast.

You gasped. Pressed into him. His breath hitched against your lips.

“You’re not wearing anything,” he whispered.

You nodded. “Didn’t want to.”

He exhaled shakily. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

You giggled softly into his neck. He kissed your shoulder. His hand moved down again. Rested at your hip. Then lower.

You held your breath as his fingers brushed between your thighs.

You were already warm there—hot, really, and the moment his fingertips grazed the edge of your underwear, you felt your hips twitch toward him, asking.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, low.

You didn’t even answer. Just nodded, biting your lip. He kissed your cheek. Then reached.

One hand stayed on your hip while the other dipped beneath your panties—warm skin, slow fingers, sliding between your folds like he was trying to learn you.

You whimpered when he touched your clit. Lightly. Barely. Testing.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so wet.”

You hid your face in his shirt. “Shut up.”

He laughed softly, kissing the crown of your head.

“I’m not complaining,” he whispered. “You feel amazing.”

He stroked you slowly.

Circling your clit. Then slipping lower—one finger, then two, easing into you while his palm pressed up, the heel of his hand grinding perfectly against that little spot that made you tremble.

You moaned. Tried to stay quiet.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured. “Let me hear you.”

Your hips rocked against his hand. You clutched the fabric of his shirt. His name fell from your lips in a breathy, desperate sigh, over and over as he pumped his fingers into you—slow, steady, curling just right.

“Just like that,” he whispered. “God, you’re perfect.”

You were close. So close.

Your body tightened. Legs shaking around his hips.

“I—I’m—”

“Come for me.”

And you did.

Mouth open in a silent cry. Fingers locked in his shirt. Your body shaking as your orgasm flooded over you, his fingers still stroking you through it, gently, lovingly, like he didn’t want to let it go.

When you finally stilled, he kissed your shoulder again.

Wiped his fingers on a tissue. Pulled you into his chest.

You were still panting, dazed.

He held you there. Face pressed to your hair.

“You’re okay?” he asked.

You nodded against his skin. “You’re perfect.”

He laughed softly, a little stunned.

“No,” he whispered. “You are.”

© MANICPIXIEDREAMKIRA - do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[mad-katsuki]

#i need megumi in my life

[peachymiko]

soft launch // hard reaction

a/n: Hi~ I got this ideas from a TikTok haha. I hope you like Megumi soft launching his girlfriend via his instagram story.

contains: Megumi using instagram, mention of Gojo thirst trapping, Megumi using his boyfriend skills to take the perfect picture of you, him buying flowers, Yuji being slightly jealous (joke), Nobara wants to braid your hair

It startet with an Instagram story.

A quiet post, barely two seconds long.

Just that Megumi never and I mean never posts anything.

But now, here it is: a grainy, late-afternoon shot of a girl from behind, walking just a little ahead of him, a bouquet of soft pink peonies in her arms. She’s wearing a buttery-yellow cardigan he once giftet her. The sunlight glows behind her like something out of a dream.

There’s no caption.

No tag.

Just a black heart in the corner. 🖤

In the dorm common room, Yuji Itadori is shrieking like he just saw a ghost.

“NOOOOOOO. NO. NO WAY.” He half shouts, half gasps.

“WHAT? What?!” Nobara lunges off the couch, yanking his phone out of his hands with absolutely no regard for his personal space. “Did Gojo post something again? Is it another shirtless thirst trap—” Her words freeze.

„HEY! That was one time, okay maybe two times.“ Gojo yells from his spot on the couch.

Yuji grabs her arm dramatically. “HE. SOFT. LAUNCHED.”

“OH MY GOD. IS THAT A GIRL? THAT’S A GIRL. THAT’S DEFINITELY A GIRL.”

“LOOK AT THE BOUQUET. HE BOUGHT HER FLOWERS?!”

Yuji is already pacing. “Bro, what if it’s some stranger? What if he got hacked?! He never posts! This can’t be from Megumi“

Nobara is zooming in on the picture like it’ll help. “This angle is intentional. This is boyfriend behavior. The lighting? The framing?? This is an act of war.”

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru, lounging across the common room couch in a matching set of pajamas and sunglasses (indoors, at 6 PM), sips his bubble tea without even glancing up.

“Oh yeah. That’s his girlfriend,” he says casually.

Both of them whip around like the exorcist girl.

“You KNEW?!”

“You—YOU KNEW? AND DIDN’T TELL US??”

Gojo shrugs. “You didn’t ask.”

“Are you serious right now?” Nobara glares.

Yuji’s eyes are wide and betrayed. “We’re supposed to be his best friends. We play Uno together.”

Gojo grins at Yuji. “You’re mad he soft-launched her instead of you?”

“We’re not in the mood, Gojo!” Nobara yells, already stomping off. “Where is he?! He’s back, right?”

“He just walked in five minutes ago,” Gojo says, now scrolling through his own phone, unbothered. “Probably in his room. Said something about calling her before dinner.”

“Oh hell no,” Nobara mutters, cracking her knuckles.

“Operation: Interrogate Megumi” is a go.

They charge down the hall. Yuji’s practically vibrating with excitement. Nobara looks ready to commit murder. The door to Megumi’s room is mostly closed, but a tiny sliver of his voice leaks through, low and soft — a tone they’ve literally never heard him use.

And then—

Laughter.

Not his.

Hers.

There’s a faint giggle through the speaker of his phone. It’s light and pretty and real. Yuji’s jaw drops like he just saw an angel.

Nobara almost kicks the door down.

Megumi looks up from where he’s sitting on his bed, legs crossed, phone in one hand, and reacts like someone who’s just been hit by a car and has accepted it.

“…I gotta go,” he tells you calmly, while making dead-eye contact with Nobara and Yuji. “I’ll text you later.”

Click.

Phone down.

Face blank.

“You little—YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!” Nobara explodes, arms in the air.

“Who is she?! What’s her name?!” Yuji demands, rushing up to the bed. Trying to sneak a look onto Megumis phone, which he quickly turns away.

“Where did you meet her? How long have you been dating? Have we met her before?!”

“Do we know her?!”

“Have you kissed her? Wait, no, don’t answer that.” Nobara snorts.

Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do either of you knock?”

“NOT THE POINT,” they scream in unison.

Megumi sighs deeply, a man worn down by the chaos he knew was inevitable.

“She’s not a secret,” he mutters.

“THAT WAS A SOFT LAUNCH,” Nobara roars. “YOU SOFT LAUNCHED A GIRLFRIEND.”

Yuji gasps. “Wait, was she laughing at something you said just now?”

Megumi gives him a long, withering look. And blushes.

Yuji melts. “Oh my god, you’re cute with her.”

“Shut up.”

“OH MY GOD, YOU LOVE HER.”

“I swear to god, Itadori—”

Nobara points a finger. “We demand answers, Fushiguro. Who is she. When do we meet her. Are we best friends now. Do I get to braid her hair.”

“She already asked me to ask you that,” Megumi mumbles, giving in.

They both freeze.

“YOU TALK ABOUT US TO HER?” they shriek.

Outside in the hallway, Gojo sips his drink again and grins.

“Told him he couldn’t hide her forever,” he mutters. “He’s totally whipped.”

[sukunahs]

birds of a feather | ryomen sukuna

pairing: god of war!sukuna x goddess of love!reader

summary: when you're married to the most boring god on olympus, who can blame you when you seek out passion with someone a little more exciting?

mythology au. retelling of the affair between ares and aphrodite.

word count: 2.7k

content: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, mythology, infidelity, drama, arranged marriage, piv sex, pregnancy, multiple positions, exhibitionism, public humiliation, reader and sukuna both could NOT care less about morality

a/n: I was originally planning to make this fic about toji but my brainrot took over and now I can't see ares as anyone but sukuna sooooo

You were bored. Painfully bored. 

Because, despite being the world’s most beautiful being, the goddess of love, the object of literally everyone’s desire; your father had decided to thoroughly clip your wings and force you into a marriage with the world’s ugliest and most tiresome god: Jogo, god of the forge. 

You couldn’t even look at him without feeling disgusted, a face that only a mother could love as mortals liked to say, but even that wasn’t true in this case considering that his mother had tossed him from the top of Mount Olympus when she’d first seen him, horrified by his disfigured face.

As you can imagine, being tossed from a mountain definitely didn’t improve upon his looks. 

Not to mention, such disregard led to Jogo’s physical ugliness seeping into his personality. He was a jealous and bitter man, even going as far as to trap his mother to a golden throne for her treatment of him in his childhood. 

That would’ve been amusing to you, if not for the negative impact that the situation had on your life. For in the terms of his mother’s release, Jogo implored the King of the Gods to grant him your hand in marriage, claiming that the only thing that would make amends for his treatment was to have the beautiful goddess of love become his wife. 

Marriage was an easy trade to make for the King, so you were given up easily - all of your sophistication and beauty wasted on this ugly man. It was your idea of hell. 

You loved your freedom, loved flirting with gods, with mortals, warming the beds of men and women alike, experiencing all the pleasures of the flesh that you possibly could. That was the whole point of your life, only for it to be ripped away from you at the hands of your jealous husband, whose one good eye was always watching you, making sure that you’d never be unfaithful to him. 

And it was boring. 

Sex with him was completely uninspiring. He didn’t know the first thing about women, treating you as though you were one of his little machines, taking a logical approach to each action, completing his duty in bed to the letter with the intention of procreation, no pleasure or passion involved in the equation. You hated it. 

You’d close your eyes and pretend that you were fucking someone else, but even that barely worked since your stupid husband couldn’t ever touch you well enough to get you anywhere near getting off. 

It sucked. Of all the gods, why did you have to be married to him? It wasn’t fair.

Lately you’d been wishing that you were married to Sukuna, God of War and Bloodshed. He was everything that your husband wasn’t: exciting and passionate, with a focus on his own pleasure above all else. He was handsome and confident, with sharp features, pink hair, sharp black tattoos curling over his muscular body, and an atmosphere of danger following him wherever he went.

From the way that he so brazenly checked you out at any given opportunity, flicking compliments your way and giving you that cocky smirk, it was clear that the two of you were birds of a feather. Matched in your desires far better than you were aligned with your own husband. 

He was egging you on, waiting to see if you’d make a move, if you were brave enough to ignore the whims of your husband and take the leap. And with his red eyes following you around Olympus the way they did, what were you meant to do? Say no? 

You were only human after all. Well, you technically weren’t but the same sentiment applied. 

So one night when your husband was working late at his forge, you snuck out of your marital bed to seek out the god of war. You’d been so needy since your wedding, unable to be with anyone but your pathetic husband, you had no doubt that Sukuna would help solve that problem - at least, if he fucked with the same passion that he fought with. 

Sukuna had been waiting for you that night, lounging about on his fancy sheets wearing nothing but a short red toga. His grin was all teeth, gaze fixed on you like you were prey that he was about to devour. Little did he know that was exactly what you wanted, coming in here batting your lashes, looking so innocent, as though you hadn’t fucked hundreds of men in your lifetime, wonderfully putting on an act of being a scared little neglected wife giving herself over to the big protective man. 

Because you desperately needed him to think he was in control of this situation, for him to dominate you like he was in charge and you were just a bystander. If he knew that was exactly what you wanted the dynamic would change, you needed it to feel real. 

It's what you’d been yearning for ever since you were thrown into a sham of a marriage.  

“Finally giving in, sweetheart?” He asked, his deep voice rumbling through the room as he rose to his feet, crossing the room to tower over you, gripping your slender chin with his calloused fingers. 

“He’s so fucking boring.” You complained, fluttering your lashes once more as you gazed up at him, pouting your lips softly. “I need someone to show me a good time or I’ll go insane.” 

Sukuna smirked down at you, tapping your chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, we can’t have that can we? I suppose I’ve got no choice but to give you what you want…” 

“Mmmm.” You responded, sliding your hands seductively up his chest. Sukuna stared down at you with amusement for a moment before pouncing, lips crashing against yours as he hoisted you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his big body and letting him manhandle you as he liked. 

It was exactly what you’d been missing from your foolish little marriage. 

And with that, your affair began. That first night had been as filled with passion as you’d expected, Sukuna dominating you completely, fucking you up against the wall, his muscular arms holding you up as he made you come undone with long, deep strokes on his thick cock. 

He spat in your mouth and pulled your hair, called you a dirty slut along with dozens of other filthy names as he forced your head down on his cock, teased your ass with his fingers as he fucked you on all fours, slapping your ass each time you whined and squirmed, shooting several loads of cum over your pretty body and ordering you to lick up any that dripped onto the floor. 

It was passionate, exciting. It stirred your heart like never before. 

And the whole time he was so confident that he was in control, that he was the one inflicting his desire upon you, the object of his affection. Never catching on that you had actively looked to him for this treatment, that you’d been just as desperate for him to touch and degrade you like this as he had been to inflict it upon you. 

You’d left him there in the room when you were done, neither of you were under the illusion you that you were going to cuddle after fucking - no, this was all about raw, unfiltered pleasure, it had nothing to do with safety or comfort. His nature was violence, there was nothing more that you’d get from him. 

Perhaps others would look upon your affair years from now and feel bad for you, assume that you’d yearned for him in a way that he hadn’t yearned for you. But they had the wrong idea. You were the goddess of love, how foolish to think that you’d restrain that love to just one single person - it would be an insult to your very nature. 

You could love Sukuna just like you could love anyone else, the love that you had to give was as infinite as his was nonexistent. An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. 

What a pair the two of you made. 

Years were spent with the two of you sneaking around. You'd go to him at night, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he fucked you into the silk sheets. You’d visit him on the battlefield, letting him bend you over his war table, scattering the carefully positioned map pieces as he drove into you so hard that the table shook. 

Sometimes, when you were confident that your husband was away, you’d even invite him into your own bed, getting off on the thrill of him taking you in the same place that your husband would usually have you, letting Sukuna’s cum drip out of you and onto the sheets when you were done - enough for your husband to doubt but not enough to prove your infidelity. 

A calculated risk to stimulate your hedonistic brain.

There were a few times throughout the years that you fell pregnant. Your husband always assumed that the children were his, always stupid enough to be blind to what was happening right in front of him. You knew better. The three children that you had in the years since your affair with Sukuna started all clearly bore a resemblance to the god of war. 

But it's not like that was all that scandalous, they’d be far from the first children in olympus born out of wedlock believing that they were the children of another. Once they grew older you supposed it would be harder to deny their heritage, but that would be a bridge to cross when you came to it. 

What was the point in worrying? 

Neither you or Sukuna were particularly convinced that you were being slick or subtle about your affair - the looks that he would shoot you in public made sure of that, but when you were both finally caught you couldn’t help but feel surprised, frustrated by the way that it had all gone down. 

You’d been out on one of your secret meetings with Sukuna, visiting him on the battlefield - you were in Troy this time, a battle that you had been paying close attention to because of your favor for the Trojan prince who had stolen his beloved away from her oaf of a husband. You were a great supporter of true love, always rooting for and aiding mortals who went for what they truly wanted, sneering at the very existence of arranged marriage. 

Love couldn’t simply be arranged. You were sure of that from your own experiences. 

Sukuna had been in a jovial mood when you found him. He too had taken the side of the Trojans, at your behest. He seldom cared whose side he fought on, as long as there was horror and bloodshed he was content, and this ongoing siege was providing plenty of that - dried blood and guts coating his muscular body when you approached him in his war tent. 

He’d smirked at you, requesting your praise for fighting so valiantly on the side you’d ordered him to support. And you’d given him just that, dropping to your knees and worshipping his cock until he was cumming down your throat. It had become routine for you, to give him whatever he wanted like this. It was what you wanted too. 

It had become so routine in fact, that the two of you barely bothered to make sure that you were alone before pouncing upon one another. That would be your mistake in this instance, for you had an observer from just outside your tent: Yorozu, the goddess of chaos, an obsessively jealous woman who had been madly in love with Sukuna for years, ever scorned by the way he would brush her aside. 

Now she understood why, and she knew just who to tell to bring this troublesome little affair to an end. 

So, weeks after your little rendezvous with Sukuna on the Trojan battlefield, the two of you were finally forced to face the music. Jogo had told you that he was going away for a while, and predictably as ever you had invited Sukuna into your bed, letting him climb on top of you and sink his cock into your warm pussy, just as always. 

And in that moment, the trap sprung. 

There was a mechanical whirring and a golden net was thrown over the two of you, forcibly keeping you both in place, tangled up with each other and pinned down uncomfortably against the bed. 

Your husband strolled into your room, snickering at the predicament that you’d found yourself in, cursing you for your infidelity, face growing red with rage as he started to spit vitriol at the both of you. 

But you weren’t really listening, and you imagined that Sukuna wasn’t either. You didn’t feel any remorse for your actions, and it was hard to focus on your surroundings with Sukuna’s cock still twitching inside you. If anything, it was taking all of your willpower not to start laughing.

“Let us go, Jogo.” Sukuna grumbled, pushing against the golden net only to find that it wouldn’t budge even under the weight of all his godly strength. 

“Not even an apology for fucking my wife?” Jogo hissed, and Sukuna shrugged, his body vibrating with chuckles. 

“Not like you were doing a good job.” 

“Whatever.” Jogo responded, and you couldn’t help but laugh, giggling softly into Sukuna’s muscular shoulder despite the uncomfortable situation you were in. 

At least you were in it with Sukuna. 

“Stop laughing, whore.” Jogo spat. “Since you’re so keen to open your legs for other men, how about we let all of Olympus see you like this?” 

Now that was humiliating. The golden net was inescapable, and all you and Sukuna could do as Jogo invited the other gods in to look and laugh was lie still, bodies still thoroughly entwined. You weren’t keen on every god getting to look upon your body, but considering that every statue of you depicted you as nude anyway, you decided that this was something of a lenient punishment. 

So as Jogo asked you if you were truly sorry, and made you promise that you’d never ever stray from him again, that you’d remain faithful for eternity, you nodded along compliantly. Pretending that you’d be his perfect little wife so that he’d release you from these bindings and move on, trying desperately not to whine or squirm at the way Sukuna’s hand was squeezing at your breast needily where your bodies were joined together, right under your husband's nose. 

Jogo seemed satisfied with your agreement, even if Sukuna’s simple ‘whatever’ just served to further temper his rage. In Jogo’s mind this was about you, not Sukuna. He had no jurisdiction over the god of war, but it was his job to control his woman. 

It was just embarrassing if he couldn’t. 

Unfortunately, Jogo was in for a life of embarrassment, because you and Sukuna weren’t so easily separable.

As time passed and your husband’s rage started to fade, you found yourself in Sukuna’s bed once more. Right back where you started, he had you bent over, fucking into you like he blamed you for the embarrassment of the two of you getting caught, his cock slamming into you until you were crying and clawing at the silk sheets, screaming his name loud enough that the whole of Olympus was likely aware of your continuing affair. 

You didn’t care, it wouldn’t be the last time - it never would. Just as easily as before you’d been caught, you fell back into the pattern of seeking him out, coming undone on his cock night after night and regretting absolutely nothing. 

What? Were you really meant to stay loyal to your husband just because of some silly golden net and a little bit of humiliation? What a waste. 

Such incidents were the spice of life, and Sukuna was like a drug that you were addicted to. You wouldn’t give it up so easily, and neither would he. He was yours and you were his. Love and violence had always gone hand in hand, what better pairing was there? 

Birds of a feather flock together.

a/n: thanks for reading! I had so much fun writing this one, absolutely adore writing the reader as completely unapologetic lol

if you like mythology fics, I have another sukuna one here (inspired by apollo and cassandra), and a gojo one here (inspired by paris and helen of troy). I'm planning on bringing out a choso one soon too :)

© sukunahs

[vividxpages]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sweet reunion ⋆°. *࿐

pairing: Garrick Tavis x fem!Reader

words: 3.4k

summary: two weeks apart from him have been way too long.

warnings: no plot just porn, lots of cursing, dirty talk, reunion sex, making out, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (they both take the suppressant), Garrick using distance wielding to have sex against a wall, oral sex (female receiving), written during ovulation

a/n: my first fic for Garrick, this man has made me insane ever since Onyx Storm dropped and I needed an outlet. (I think he'd be a FREAK.) I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I have when I wrote it! 🖤 thank you to my sister @still-jon-snow for always listening and being excited and just the best!

.♡ 🦋

It had been fourteen days since you had last kissed Garrick Tavis at the landing site of Riorson House.

Fourteen days since you had last spoken with him, laughed with him, been with him.

Today, the mess in which you had lived for the past two weeks, was going to end. You had kept yourself busy with tidying the room – quite shocked over the discovery that he was the clean one out of the two of you – and training with your friends earlier this morning, trying to shake off the nerves upon the arrival of his unit.

You were growing restless by the time the sun stood high above Tyrrendor, the sight beautiful yet lacking the elegant swing of dragon wings. Everyone had been waiting all day. A control mission, nothing out of the ordinary, everyone kept telling you. You had said nothing, not happy with any of it.

But just as you opted to leave yours and his room to watch the goddamn sky yourself, you heard movement in the corridor, a few commands cutting through the silence in the courtyard.

Oh thank the gods, your dragon’s voice rumbled unimpressed in your mind. I can’t bear another day of you moping around like this

Someone down the hallway outside your door shouted: “They’re back!”

It was the last thing you heard before the air in the room suddenly shifted, the dancing dust particles stiffening in the sun streaming through the windows, making space, fleeing from-

Two heavy leather boots hit the creaking wooden floor, breaking through the otherwise strange silence of his arrival.

- him.

You were up on your feet before you knew it, his large shirt on you pooling around your naked legs as you stared at him, the way he briefly oriented himself around the room, then spun around to face you.

In the blink of an eye, both of you rushed forward and you were lifted effortlessly into the air, both of your legs coming to wrap around his waist as he held you close. You let out a happy laugh near his ear, his arms tightening their hold around you as his hands roamed over you, touching everywhere at once.

“Fuck, how I missed that laugh.” Garrick mumbled deeply, his free hand cupping your cheek and making you look at him. You smiled brightly, placing your hand over his and drinking in the sight of him. Unharmed. Love swirling fiercely in his captivating eyes.

He was home.

You bridged the distance between him and you, kissing him slowly and with relish. Knowing Garrick, these kinds of kisses soon wouldn’t do anymore, at least not to sate the bottomless need inside of him.

He tilted his head to the side, hand sliding into your hair as he snaked his other arm around you. With a small gasp, you came to stand on your tiptoes, busy touching his biceps, his strong shoulders and neck…

Without breaking the kiss, Garrick walked over to the edge of the bed, his tongue licking fire into your mouth as he sat down with you and let his hands travel over your naked thighs. You let out a small sound at the sudden closeness before willing yourself to break away for just a moment.

He stared back at you with heavy breath and half-lidded eyes, his usually pale cheeks now getting some lovely color because of you.

“Everything went okay?” You asked quietly, shuffling forward in his lap so your chests pressed against each other, hearts starting to messily beat in sync once more.

Garrick nodded, tucking back a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand staying on your cheek. “We all couldn’t get back fast enough though.”

You caressed down his muscles as they flexed instinctively underneath your tender touch. Your eyes stayed on his, drowning in the warm hazel tone and the fire burning behind it. As your lips parted with a relieved sigh when he splayed his big hands over your hips now, Garrick tugged you even closer against the heat of his body. His scar, so familiar in the way it ran down his temple and vanished at his stoic jaw, shined silverly, the healed tissue soft and rough at once under your fingertips.

You examined him quietly, counting his exhales and the seconds where more of his patience dissolved into thin air as he did sometimes. No bruises or cuts. He was alright. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the tension having followed you for days making its leave as well.

“I’m okay.” He mumbled under his breath, not missing anything. His thumb brushed over your cheek and the gesture was so loving in this time of unease, it nearly made you cry right then.

But you had missed him, desired him when it became dark outside and the mattress beside you was still empty, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“I missed you.” You confessed under your breath, a hungering something in your stomach curling itself tight. “I hate sleeping alone.”

“You don’t have to for a long while, trust me.” Garrick promised confidently and then you were kissing again, all softness from earlier forgotten as he nearly devoured you, needing to familiarize himself again with the feel of your soft lips, the taste of you.

You wound your arms around his strong neck and bucked your hips forward only to make him groan when your core brushed right over his hardness. Fuck.

“You don’t smell like me anymore.” He stated between hurried kisses, his tongue licking over the sensitive spot underneath your ear, making you arch against his tall form. Garrick always knew how to make you melt in just a couple of moments and his impatient nature was only intensifying the need, especially after you had been separated for so long.

You looked at him, a little out of breath, and slowly leaned forward to playfully nip at his bottom lip with your teeth. Not breaking eye-contact, you whispered: “You should change that, Lieutenant.”

He was on you in a split second.

He quickly rose with you in his arms, spinning around and then falling onto the sheets with you. Letting out a squeal at the sudden movement, you had no time to recover as he slid above you and kissed you hard, biting down on your plump bottom lip and pushing his hips forward. The warm riding leathers rubbed over your panties and you groaned. As hot as this was, you needed something else. Something only he could give you.

“Too many clothes.” You gasped against his lips and he hummed in agreement and switched to kissing down your neck, soothingly sucking at your favorite spot all your friends would soon tease you about. “Get the fuck naked, Tavis.”

Sometimes you wondered if his signet came with the power of unnatural speed as well, because within under a minute by far, Garrick had torn away your clothes entirely, leaving you wanting and naked on the bed before him, his eyes travelling lazily over your body as if he suddenly had all the time in the world again.

Lifting his shirt over his head, Garrick took a deep breath as the muscles in his stomach flexed. He was hard through his briefs and subconsciously, you licked your lips.

“Show me.” He said quietly and you spread your legs, presenting the evidence of your desire to him, your hunger a roaring pit in your stomach as you felt yourself drip onto the sheets for him. Your own company hadn’t been enough to fill the hole he left behind when he had to leave.

Garrick slowly licked his lips, eyes staying on your pussy as he crawled forward and finally got rid of his shirt. When he pulled down his briefs, your breath hitched, enticed by his hard dick springing against his abs, deliciously leaking at the tip.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered in awe of you and you beamed at the praise, your back arching into his touch as he drew a circle around your belly button, slowly travelling down… “So fucking wet for me, hm?”

As if to prove his point, he gently pressed your thighs further apart, breathing heavily as he let a trail of spit fall down on your folds, the sudden contact making a nerve in your calf twitch. Finally.

The first touch of his fingertips against your clit set you aflame.

Your hands fisted the sheets, your entire body suddenly helpless underneath his touch as he began to draw slow, wet circles on your most sensitive part, the friction so heavenly you could not help but throw your head back and gasp for air.

“Eyes on me, love.” Garrick commanded calmly and you obeyed, every cell in your body needing to please him, to be loved and adored by him.

A needy whimper left your lips as he kept rubbing you and you writhed against the bedding, willing to let him play with you however he wanted if you only got to come soon, or even better -  have him inside of you again. He bit his lip, an approving rumble going through his chest as you bucked your hips into his touch.

“Garrick…” You breathed longingly as he fisted his weeping cock, his thumb stroking your clit in adoration as his other fingers swept through your wetness. “Please.”

“Shh, just a moment longer.” He said, transfixed and uncharacteristically patient as he slowly eased a finger inside of your hot pussy, the tightness and warmth of your walls making his dick twitch. You reached out in an attempt to jerk him off, but midair you froze and you nearly forgot yourself as he suddenly curled his digit upwards.

“Have you touched yourself while I was gone?” He asked curiously and you almost managed to roll your eyes on him before the first was quickly joined by another finger and you groaned at the pleasurepain of it.

“Have you?” You managed to bite back, instantly rewarded by his beautiful low laughter.

“Baby…” His thumb brushed over your sensitive folds and clit, the other hand soothingly stroking your thighs. “Just about every night, you know?”

Gods, how he pleased you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so well.” Garrick promised huskily, a smug grin taking over his face at the filthy sounds your pussy made as he fingered you.

“Then do it.” You gasped, shivering as he scissored his digits once more before he pulled them out, a string of your wetness following him as if a part of you just couldn’t let him go this easily. “I need you to fuck me. Now, Garrick.”

“Such an attitude.” Garrick grinned, shaking his head as if he didn’t love every fucking second of this. His girl, soaked and trembling under him, the scent of her welcoming heat clouding every rationality in his mind.

You held on to his broad shoulders as he lowered himself down on you, his hips resting snugly between your thighs and for a moment, it was quiet and good and you finally felt whole again.

You moaned shakingly in union with him, briefly biting down on his collarbone as he eased inside of you, inch by inch until your thighs were already shaking and his hips were cradled warmly between your thighs. Garrick grunted, resting his forehead between your tits, his breath fanning over the warm skin and making it break out in pleased shivers. The strong arms resting at your sides were trembling slightly.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed, his tongue swirling around one of your aching buds before he looked at you awe-struck, not knowing how the hell he deserved to return to a heavenly woman like you. “’s been way too long…”

Your muscles flexed around him and he groaned, cock twitching inside of you. In a breathless whisper, you protested: “You’ve only been gone for two weeks.” Now you were challenging your luck.

“Two weeks too long, baby.” He muttered seriously before he caught your mouth in a hot and messy kiss, your moan swallowed by him as he pressed forward once again and then slowly pulled back, just to slowly fuck into you again when your head dropped helplessly onto his pillow.

Garrick rolled his hips, building up an intoxicating rhythm as you shook, your neglected pussy overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of it, of feeling him inside of you when you had to put up with your own fingers for the last days when the longing had become too much.

“Fuck baby, you’re gripping me so tightly…really missed me, huh?” He smiled at you brightly and if he hadn’t been balls deep inside of you right then, dragging his dick just right against your walls, you might’ve slapped him playfully.

“Don’t get cocky now.” Gods, you sounded ruined already and you knew he had not even started with you.

He grinned down at you, relishing the little twin pains in his shoulder blades where you held on to him tightly, still at his mercy while he oh so slowly fucked you. Garrick winked before he looked down to where his cock was sliding out of you, the sounds slippery and absolutely filthy as he used your puffy cunt to lube himself up more before he pushed back in. “Too late, hm?”

You glared at him, purposefully flexing around him and throwing your legs around his waist, causing him to plunge deeper inside of you. Garrick gasped in surprise but quickly regained his posture of confidence as he leaned down to kiss your chest, beginning to fuck you in earnest now.

The change was so sudden, it nearly gave you whiplash.

You were so wet, he could easily pound into you, his arms caging you in as his hips met yours. You bit back a scream as he lifted your bum from the mattress, holding on to him for dear life and then suddenly, the air split in two and-

- he suddenly stood with you in his arms, adjusting his grip on your thighs. You blinked at him in a second of confusion, peeking over his shoulder to see the abandoned messy bed where you two had just laid.

Garrick had wielded the distance. With you.

And he was still very much inside of you.

Your naked back hit the wall behind you and he bent his knees just slightly, the new angle making the delicious curve of his cock dragged over your sweet spot. You moaned loudly, the back of your head hitting the wall as he stared at you like you were his own personal goddess.

“Better.” He decided and lifted you, only to push you down onto his cock again. As if you weighed nothing in his arms, he resumed to fucking you once again, his thrusts sharp and passionate, lacking the patience from earlier and gaining more wildness with every push and pull.

You could do nothing but hold on to him as he fucked you, your high moans swallowed by his deep kisses when he wasn’t busy with ravishing your bared neck. He seemed to be everywhere at once, insatiable in his want for you.

Your nails raked down his muscular back and he moaned right into your mouth, utterly consumed by the feel of you as he rocked into you like it’d be the last time in his life. And you met him with each thrust, rolling your hips and feeling the mouth-watering friction of his abdomen against your clit every time.

“Come on, come on.” You urged him on raspily, sensing the familiar stutter in his rhythm, the way his fingers in your hair trembled. “I know you’re close, I’m right there with you. Let go, Gar…”

With a final shout, Garrick buried his face in your neck and released deep inside of you and as he reached down to touch you, you followed him right over the edge with a scream, your orgasm crashing over you like a thunderstorm.

Feeling the warmth of his come within you, your eyes fluttered closed as you both breathed in sync, unwilling to part yet as Garrick held you close like he never wanted to let go again.

“So perfect…” He mumbled against your skin and you giggled happily and drunk on pleasure.

You slumped down against him, trusting him blindly to catch you and he did. His strong arms held you close against his chest as his heavy exhales tickled the top of your head. You were boneless, completely happy and done with the world as long as your man held you and a sigh so wholly satisfied left your lips, it almost felt blasphemous.

A heaviness seeped into your body, but just as you wanted to hug Garrick and let yourself be carried to bed, he drew back. You whined, displeased as he slipped out of you, not understanding.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you yet.” He said with a simple shake of his head and slid down, his hands placing your bum back against the wall, one of them sliding underneath your thigh and lifting until he rested one of your shaky legs over his shoulder.

He got down on his knees.

“Garrick-“ Your eyes widened at the realization of what was about to occur, but it seemed like they hadn’t fed the returning soldiers at Riorson House yet. Because in the next second, Garrick was surging forward, moaning deeply as he buried his face in your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice nearly catapulting you into the next life.

You slammed your hand over your mouth, shrieking as he licked into you, his tongue dragging your combined releases over your spread folds before he suckled hard at your clit. He was all that held you up, his strength enough for the two of you as he devoured you without any saturation in sight.

Your hand was ripped away from your mouth and then, his glistening lips brushed over your knuckles, his eyes holding you captive as he slowly shook his head. “Let me hear you.”

Your answer was a broken moan, close to a blissful sob as he kissed and licked at you like his life depended on it, eager to taste every drop until you’d shatter underneath his skilled tongue.

“Fuck, Garrick-”

“Give me everything, baby.” He praised you, his hot breath fanning over your throbbing overstimulated clit for a moment as you panted and clawed at his shoulders in an attempt to try and keep up with him. “Such a good fucking girl, I missed you so much…”

“-missed you.” You gasped, twitching in his hold as he laid his tongue flat on you and licked a fat stripe upwards. And did it again and again.

A scorching heat tore through your stomach and it shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already there again, almost ready to jump over the cliff he had been leading you to.

Garrick, sensing your nearing release, looked up at you, his tongue still dancing around your clit as he laced your hands together and placed them both on the wall behind you.

“Every second I’m apart from you is still filled with you.” He vowed. “I love you.”

With one last stroke against you, you shattered apart. Unable to hold you up anymore, your legs gave in and Garrick caught you and pulled you against his chest as your second orgasm tore through you violently. His hands around your waist would likely leave marks later as you panted against his throat, trying to breathe through the last waves of pleasure rushing through you.

“Easy, love.” He murmured, peppering soft kisses over your temple, the top of your head and nose as you slowly calmed down. Garrick was so warm, a human furnace of a man, you felt your eyelids droop almost immediately, the position in his lap way too comfy to want to get up and clean yourself.

“I love you too…” You told him quietly, snuggling into his chest and relishing the closeness you had missed so dearly. You kissed his chest, right over his pounding, love-struck heart as he smiled warmly at you. “Welcome back.”

The sunbeams streaming in through the windows caressed the two of you, quietly laughing with each other and finally, reunited again.

[mad-katsuki]

I NEED HIM

[drjohncarters]

Professor Tavis

pairing: boyfriend!garrick tavis x reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: When hear about Garrick's new job from Xaden, you start to question why Garrick didn't tell you himself. He makes it up to you in the best way possible.

warnings: 18+ ONLY. smut. porn with plot. brief description of panic attack. professor kink tehe. unprotected p in v. fem!reader. ridoc being a protective best friend. super minor onyx storm spoiler.

Xaden looks past his cousin to Garrick. “I just need Professor Tavis.”

I can’t help but gape at the title given to my boyfriend. The title I am just now hearing for the first time. My head snaps up to gawk at him along with the rest of my squad. He winces, but slides by me on the steps and follows after Xaden without looking back. 

All of my friend’s eyes turn away from the men as they disappear and focus on me instead. 

“Professor?” Bodhi frowns. “Since when?”

I meet his round brown eyes and shrug my shoulders, turning back to face the map on the table. Apparently, I’m the only one who remembers that we’re trying to plan out our flight path. The rest of the group is murmuring around me now, gossiping about Professor Tavis. I try my best not to feel scuffed at the fact that I’m learning about my boyfriend’s new job along with the rest of my squad. Except, apparently, not all of them were so oblivious.

“He told me about it over breakfast. They just asked him to accept this morning,” Imogen says, and I straighten in my seat. She’s always been interested in my boyfriend, which is enough to make me jealous as is. Him confiding in her about his new status before telling me feels like a punch in the gut. Then, she piles on top of that feeling. “He didn’t tell you? That’s weird.”

The hair on my skin raises uncomfortably under my leathers. I swallow hard. 

“Shut up, Imogen.” Ridoc slaps her on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Let’s refocus,” Rhiannon supplies, drawing her finger from Basgiath to one of the isles on the map. I can’t make out which one it is through the unshed tears that are stinging in my eyes. “This route could work.”

The group argues again, all speaking over one another as they shove their fingers onto the paper and suggest their own ideas. My mind races as I sit amongst them, drifting through my recent memories with Garrick in an attempt to recall any reason why he’d have withheld this from me, but I come up with nothing. A small sigh leaves my mouth as I continue to stir over the pit in my stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” Bodhi asks, looking up from the map.

“Nothing! I’m just tired.” I rub my eyes and blink hard, trying to force myself back into the moment to help my squadmates formulate the plan. Ridoc nods from next to me, leaning his head onto my shoulder with a dramatic yawn. 

“Me too. Can we break for nap time?” He smiles cheekily at our friends. Every single one of them rolls their eyes at his antics, but Rhiannon relents. 

“Yeah. We can come back after dinner and look at it with fresh eyes,” she says, folding the map up on the table and tucking it into her bag. We’d been here over an hour already. “I’m gonna head to the training room if anyone wants to spar.”

Violet, Sawyer, Aaric, and Sloane all break off with her. The rest of the group goes their own ways, and Ridoc stays with me as we head toward the dorm wing of the castle. His footsteps are wider than mine, his long legs guiding him easily down the corridor. 

“Never took you for a teacher’s pet,” he teases, looking down at me with a wide grin that shows all his teeth. I laugh, shaking my head. 

“Didn’t know I was one. Gods, I can’t believe he would tell Imogen before me. I mean Xaden, I get, but Cardulo? What in Malek’s name did I do to deserve that blow?” I let myself rant to him. Nobody else is in the hallway around us. There’s no reason to hide my disdain for my situation when I already know that he’s tuned into my agitation anyway. 

“I wanted to punch her in the mouth!” He shouts, throwing his hands up. “I mean if you’re going to be a homewrecker, at least have some tact about it.”

My heart twists and pounds in my chest. Homewrecker. The humor of the situation is abruptly drained from my body. My pulse quickens quickly, and my jacket suddenly fits too snugly. I grab his wrist and stop walking, turning to face him with hot cheeks. 

“You don’t really think…” My voice trails off, not wanting to think about the possibility of Garrick and Imogen having any sort of secret relationship. 

“No, no, gods, no,” he hurries out, quickly taking a step toward me and wrapping me into a tight hug. He speaks softly into my hair. “I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. You know that Garrick loves you more than anything. It’s pathetic and weird and I’m so jealous of it. He’d never do that to you. Gods know Imogen has tried, though.”

I relax a little at that, but I can’t help the sob that rips through my chest. The past hour has been utterly overwhelming, and it feels like I can’t breathe through the stress. Ridoc holds me tight, running a hand up and down my arm as I wet his leathers with my tears. 

It’s suddenly too hot. I fumble with the zipper of my jacket, trying desperately to get it off of my body as anxiety surges. Ridoc replaces my hands with his on the zipper, then quickly unbuttons the collar and slides my jacket off of my shoulders. He tucks it under his arm and takes a step back. My chest aches with the force of my sobs. After a minute passes and I show no signs of stopping, he sweeps my legs off of the ground and carries me bridal style toward the dorm hall. 

My face stays buried in his shoulder the entire way, uncontrollably wailing. I try wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my undershirt, but it’s no use. The floodgates have opened and the tears just keep coming. It’s a panic attack.

“It’s okay, we’re almost to your room,” he says sweetly, pushing open a set of double doors with his hip. He keeps walking. “Deep breaths. Almost there.”

“What the hell happened?” A familiar voice echoes through the hallway, and a new set of tears rises behind my eyes, spilling over quickly as I choke out a sob. Ridoc stiffens beneath me as I dig my fingers into him, holding myself close to him. 

The anxiety that’s running through my blood isn’t just about the thought of being cheated on, because I know deep down that Garrick would never do that to me. It’s just overwhelming to have Imogen’s snarky comment on top of the stress of planning our trip to the isles, and keeping Xaden’s secret safe from the others. It’s too much, and it’s all weighing on me now.

Ridoc’s steps slow, and he bends over at the waist, setting me back on my feet gently. I release my grip on him only after he places a hand on my upper back. Through my tears, I first see the wetness running down his leather jacket, racing from the collar down to his stomach. Then, I look away from him and see Garrick towering over us, right next to my door. 

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” Ridoc moves a gentle hand to the back of my head before turning and shoving my jacket into Garrick’s chest, matching his mean scowl with one of his own. “Don’t look at me like that when I’m the one who brought her here, Professor.”

“Don’t start, Gamlyn,” he bites back. His knuckles are white where he’s holding my jacket.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you. It seems to be getting you in trouble a lot recently.” He crosses the hallway and steps into his room, slamming the door shut loudly behind him. Garrick’s lips are pressed together tightly, chest heaving with angry breaths. His eyes trail away from our friend and land back on me, softening as he rests a calloused palm on my wet cheek and tilts my chin up to face him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His tone is pleading, and hot tears keep falling down my face as I stare into his hazel eyes and search for my answers. If he was cheating on me, would I see it in his revealing eyes? I don’t notice anything different. When I look into him, I still see only my Garrick. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

He opens my door with one hand, using the other to urge me in front of him. He guides me all the way to the edge of my bed and sets my leathers next to me as I take a seat there. His tall form shrinks to my height as he kneels in front of me, placing his hands on my hips. 

“Sweetheart, please talk to me,” he begs, squeezing my skin. 

“I’m just a little overwhelmed.” I drag my cold palms over my face to wipe away the drying tears and take a deep breath, willing them to stop falling. “Everyone was asking me questions about you becoming a professor, and I didn’t know anything about it, you never told me. Then Imogen starts answering all of them, and I just-- I don’t know. It really upset me, I think, to have her know more about what’s going on with you than I do. Then when we were walking back here, I started thinking that maybe there’s a reason you would tell her before telling me, and I just…”

Garrick flinches in front of me and moves his hands to cup my jaw. His hazel eyes burn into my skin and force me to meet his gaze. I see his lips parted in shock and a deep furrow between his thick brows. He opens his mouth as if to start talking, but hesitates, swallowing hard. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” he admits, running a thumb to catch a stray tear in the corner of my eye. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I never ever meant to make you think that I was going behind your back. I promise you, with all of my heart, that you are the only person I’ve wanted to tell all day.”

“Why didn’t you?” My voice breaks, and I gnaw on the skin of my bottom lip. 

“I didn’t tell Imogen, first of all-- Xaden did. While we were eating breakfast, which was right after I’d gotten back from the meeting where they told me about the job offer.” He grasps my hand in his and brings it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to my skin. I sigh, letting my free hand brush the hair above his ear. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. That’s just what she told everyone,” I apologize, and he shakes his head quickly. 

“Don’t apologize, I don’t blame you at all,” he says sincerely. “I’m sorry that you heard it from someone else. I’ve been wanting to tell you all day, but you weren’t at breakfast, and then I got pulled into another meeting to discuss lesson plans, and then by the time I got out, everyone was working on the flight paths with you. I wanted to be able to sit down and have a discussion with you about it in private without everyone listening, and then fucking Riorson ruined that. I should’ve just asked you to come talk with me, and I’m sorry that I didn’t realize that until it was too late.”

I stare at the man in front of me, watching his chest rise and fall with slow breaths. A sweet smile graces his full lips as I hiccup, finally taking in my first full breath all day. His shaggy hair falls into his face as he bends over. I watch as his strong hands delicately untie my boots before sliding them off of my feet one at a time. It feels like I’ve been bathed in a pool of relief and his words are the water that cradles me.

“Come here,” I swing my legs onto the bed and pat the spot next to me. He removes his own shoes and lays in the empty spot, wrapping an arm around my body and tugging me into his side. Our eyes meet where we lay, and I press a kiss to his lips. My body melts into the taste of him, but I relent, pulling away. He groans in disapproval. 

“Why?” He whines. I giggle, feeling at ease here in his arms. He smirks down at me and leans in for another kiss, but I put my finger to his lips instead. 

“I want to hear about this job!” I prop myself up on my elbows, laying on my stomach as he narrows his eyes at me in disdain. Looking at the man in front of me, I wonder how I ever got myself so worked up. There’s nothing but concentrated love in his eyes right now, and it’s all for me.

“Later. Come kiss me right now, I’ve missed you.” He sits up, grasping my cheek and bringing his mouth to mine. I sigh into the kiss and he takes advantage, slipping his tongue through my parted lips. My hand on his chest pushes him back against the mattress, not breaking the kiss as I follow him down. 

We’re thinking the same thing, his fingers grabbing my hips to lift me onto his lap, but I’m already lifting my leg to straddle him. He pulls away from the kiss and attaches his lips to my jaw. I can feel his smile against my skin.

“Good, sweetheart,” he praises, “you know just what I need.”

I settle onto him, my thighs clenching either side of his hips. He uses his hold on my waist to push my body down harder onto him, a groan rising in the back of his throat as he rubs me over his clothed dick. Gripping me roughly, he drags me back and forth over and over. I press sloppy kisses up his neck and along his jaw, leaving one just below his ear before lightly grazing my teeth over his earlobe. 

Every part of him is solid beneath me. Solid arms, solid chest, solid stomach, and a solid dick working me just right. Garrick Tavis drives me crazy.

“I need you,” he says, stopping his movements and turning to stare into my eyes. His pupils are blown, revealing only the faintest sliver of hazel around them. I kiss him softly. Garrick has always been a tease. I appreciate getting to return the favor sometimes, and the perfect idea has presented itself. I kiss him again and he groans, bucking his hips up. “I need you now, sweetheart.”

“What do you need from me, Professor Tavis?” I fiend innocence, voice soft and low, looking at him with wide eyes that I’m certain are just as lust-blown as his. Garrick’s lips part and the next kiss he drags from my lips is feverish. His hands are gripping at my shirt, tearing it off of my body with no regard and discarding it to the floor carelessly. 

He grips my ass roughly, and I squeal as I’m suddenly lifted off of his lap and flipped onto my back, staring up at my boyfriend as he unzips his jacket and slides out of it easily. I sit up to help him with his shirt, but he pushes me back down.

“I’m a professor and you’re a cadet, our relationship is strictly off limits.” He slides his shirt over his head, and my pulse stutters. I reach a hand out to feel his packed muscle, trailing my fingers down the patch of hair that starts at his navel and dips below his waistband. He inhales sharply.

“Off limits?” I don’t look at him, instead I work on unfastening the belt around his waist. My gaze drifts below my hands, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth at the sight of the bulge straining against his pants. 

“Strictly. So I need you to be really quiet for me, sweetheart.” He rakes his hand through my hair, fisting it gently at the base of my neck and pulling so that I meet his eyes. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Professor Tavis.” I nod quickly. He removes my hands from his crotch and steps off the bed. I frown, rolling to protest, but he’s quick to shut me up. 

“Take your pants off.” He’s already stepping out of his. “I can’t wait any longer.”

I don’t question him, the angry red tip of his stiff cock saying enough to prove that he’s being honest. My bottoms slide off quickly. I shove my panties off with them, baring myself to the desperate man in front of me.

“Bra.” Garrick’s voice is tight. He’s fisting himself, but not pumping at all. He’s waiting for me to follow his instructions. I unhook my bra and shrug it off. He hums in appraisal, bringing his eyes to my bare chest. I revel in the way his eyebrows knit together, like he’s physically pained by my beauty. This is what it felt like to be loved. 

“Professor Tavis?” I stand up from the bed, walking toward him slowly. He inhales sharply as I pause in front of him, nearly pressing my skin to his. “What should I do next?”

“Get on your knees, sweetheart.” He smoothes the hair at the top of my head as he commands me so sweetly. Seeing him like this, so affected by me, is driving me crazy. 

I lower myself to my knees in front of him, wetting my lips as I become eye level with his dick. Pre-cum is already leaking from the tip, and I open my mouth to lap it up, but he cradles my face and stops me gently. My eyes meet his as he towers above me, shaking his head softly. 

“Not yet, sweetheart. I want you to put your hand between your legs.” My breath catches in my throat in surprise. We’re both so desperate, and he’s dragging this out for so long, but I can’t find it in myself to argue with him as his cock twitches when I lower my hand down my stomach and dip it between my legs. The moan that tumbles from my lips is immediate. Garrick’s foreplay made my clit swell, and it’s the most sensitive that I’ve felt as I begin to stroke myself with my fingers. Letting the noises of pleasure escape as I start grinding with my hips is uncontrollable. 

“Professor Tavis,” I moan loudly as my head falls back. “Please fuck me. Please make me cum.”

I’m shocked when one strong arm wraps around my waist and hoists me up, but I don’t hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist. All plans of sucking him off are abandoned. He holds me tightly to him, molding his mouth to mine so fiercely that our teeth bump. The head of his cock teases my entrance and I gasp at the sensation. It takes him only two steps to reach the bed, where he pulls his mouth away from mine and lays me out on my stomach. The loss of contact makes me whimper.

“You’ve gotta be quiet for me,” he coos. His rough hands are a sharp contrast to his saccharine voice as he lifts my ass into the air and kneads it. I groan, jutting my hips back, and he tsks. “What’d I say? Quiet for me baby. Don’t make me tell you again. Can you do that for me? Can you shut that pretty mouth while I fuck you?”

The moan that leaves my lips is unstoppable, and he laughs darkly behind me before pulling my hips back. My cheeks flush at his laugh. 

“I want to be good for you, Professor. Please let me try.” He inhales sharply and then aligns his tip at my entrance. I push my hips back slowly, and he’s the one who can’t keep to himself this time. 

“Oh, fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, grabbing my ass and pushing himself further into me. I gasp as he bottoms out inside of me, feeling overwhelmingly full. 

He leans down over me, leaving a trail of kisses up my spine. His lips pause at my neck, and he bites me softly. 

“You’re such a good girl for me. So fucking good. Thank you, sweetheart.” He straightens his spine and pulls his hips back so far that the tip of his dick is barely inside of me, before he slams into me. I whine, my walls stretched out by his thick cock, but he only pulls out again, leaving me to wait before he rams into me another time, cursing as he finds a steady pace. His cock is moving at the perfect speed. I moan as he hits a sweet spot, and I feel him focus as he hits it again, and again, and again. 

I cry out. “Oh gods. Just like that. Right there.”

He keeps his thrusts perfect and steady, pushing me closer to my edge. Once his fingers wrap around my front and find my swollen clit, I let out a shaky breath. He continues his punishing pace as his finger circles my clit once, then twice, and it’s the perfect combination. I’m shattering around him immediately, my legs shaking. 

“Professor Tavis!” Waves of pleasure ripple through me, my orgasm prolonged by him chasing his own now, his dick pushing into me roughly. I’m still squeezing him, wetness dripping down my legs as he hits the perfect spot. “Fuck!”

“Fuck, I love you so much, sweetheart,” he moans, pace quickening before he stills. I tighten at the feeling of his cock twitching inside of me, filling me up with his release. He exhales deeply, fanning my spine with hot air. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking dream.”

He places a firm hand on my ass as he starts to pull his dick out, but hisses with the motion, and then pushes himself back inside. I turn my head to look back at him, watching as he does it again, backing himself out almost all of the way and then sliding back in. His eyes are fixed on the point where he’s entering, watching with deep breaths as he repeats it one more time.

“Sweetheart, you feel so fucking good. I don’t want to leave.” His voice is strained with pleasure, gaze trailing from where I’m wrapped around him up to my ass, then my back, and then he meets my face. The fire in his eyes is enough to melt me.

“So don’t. Stay inside and come lay with me,” I suggest, hoping that he does just that. He smirks and lowers himself onto the bed with me, holding me close to keep himself inside as he adjusts us so that we’re spooning now. I lay my head on his arm and sigh contentedly. 

“I love you, sweetheart. That was fucking hot.” He laughs breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. I giggle, finding that I could really get used to this new job of his. 

[mad-katsuki]

need that.

[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter six: so start over

college au, the batboys and reader are bartenders, also the guys play hockey

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, azriel x reader

summary - things slowly start to mend after eris talks to his brother, and azriel talks to you.

word count - 3k

a/n - sorry this took me so long to write!!! i was super busy, i just moved and had to get all my voter registration stuff in order before tonight! i hope this brings a little distraction from the dreadful anxiety of election day. it certainly worked a little for me. also guys theyre starting to work towards happiness. i think when the series is done i might write blurbs for it. because her and eris make my heart hurt a little. anyways i hope you enjoy!

read the rest of the series here!

 Eris couldn’t get you out of his head. He had tried, by taking that girl to the halloween party instead of you. But now. The idea of forgetting you was almost laughable. Your words echoing through his ears constantly. 

I miss you. 

You missed him. You had Azriel in the palm of your hand and you missed him. He thought of your flushed cheeks and your tousled hair. The bite mark that had been fading from your skin, the way you had brought your hand up to cover it the second he noticed it. The way Azriel had leaned against the porch rail and nodded at him. A silent bow out. Eris wondered what exactly you had said to him to make him give up the chase. What exactly the two of you had discussed. Whether it was a fight or a teary eyed goodbye. He couldn’t make himself not care. About any of it. About how he wished he could have wiped the tear tracks from your face. About how he wished that he could have smoothed every crease of worry from your skin with a kiss. But he couldn’t. Not then. But now? He didn’t know. 

He was walking to campus now. The leaves almost fully fallen from every branch. The harsh sterility of winter starting it’s approach. It felt like he was retracing steps. Steps he had once taken with you. Like his feet were leading him somewhere that he wasn’t fully aware of until he stopped outside the coffee shop you so often frequented. He looked through the slightly fogged windows. Towards the window booth you and Lucien so often liked to share while you studied. You weren’t there. It’s not like he was surprised, he knew you worked thursday evenings anyway. But his brother was. Lucien sat alone at the table. Flipping absent mindedly through the pages of an all too large book, that he was probably reading for brownie points more than anything else. Eris looked at his feet, as if trying to will them to take him somewhere else, before he sighed and pushed open the door of the coffee shop. 

He made his way to where his brother was sitting and wrapped his knuckles on the table. Lucien sighed and looked up. Shooting his elder brother a nonplussed look before letting his book fall closed before him. He leaned back in his chair, looking Eris up and down, and crossing his arms. 

“You look like shit.” 

“You know for someone that used to copy the way that I dress that’s a wild thing to say to me.” 

Lucien scoffed, “I didn’t copy the way you dressed, I was forced to wear hand me downs for a ridiculously long time….which is funny considering that our family could have afforded to buy me new clothes.” 

Eris smiled and shrugged, “Maybe it’s because you were dad’s least favorite.” 

Lucien frowned a little and shrugged, “I’m gonna let you be rude to me only because you’ve clearly let yourself go.” 

Eris let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, almost perfectly mirroring Lucien’s stance. The brothers studied eachother. Neither of them saying anything. Eris chewing his bottom lip, trying to find a good way to phrase what he wanted to say. A good way to bring you up without making it seem like it was the only reason he was talking to Lucien. As if on cue Lucein let out a small laugh, leaned forward, the legs of his chair clicking loudly against the floor, 

“She’s not doing great either.” 

Eris let out another sigh. He didn’t want you to be doing poorly. He wanted you happy and content. Really he did. But there was some comfort in Lucien’s admittance. Some small relief that maybe you were just as unhappy being apart as he was. But the grimace that rippled across his features was evident nonetheless. Lucien continued at the pained look on his brother’s face, 

“Really. I don’t think she’s brushed her hair in a couple days. I’ve never seen her look this disheveled on purpose. She stopped coming to class.” 

Eris looked up at this, “I don’t want that.” 

“I know you don’t.” Lucien paused and rubbed his hand over his eyes, “Maybe you should talk to her.” 

“And say what Lucien?” 

“Well I heard that she uhm…somewhat bared her soul to you.” 

“She was drunk.” 

“I don’t think she was. I think most of the alcohol was vomitted up before she managed to actually talk to you.” 

He was right. Eris thought about the horrifying clarity behind your eyes when you had spoken to him. Your words soft and quiet, like you were almost ashamed to say them at all. Like you were embarrassed to admit that you had any doubts, any fear, at all. 

“I don’t know if we can go back to the way it was.” 

Lucien shrugged, a real, heavy shouldered shrug, and ran a hand through his hair. He opened his book again and said, without looking up from the pages, “So start over.” 

★ ★ ★

You and Azriel worked in silence. Diligently keeping up with the flow of customers, parrying snarky comments from Cassian, and handling the mountain of dirty glasses Mor would dump on the bar’s doorstep every couple minutes. It was good to be busy. You didn’t have to think about anything when it was busy. You could work steadily and make other people happy, without having to think about any of your own shit. You didn’t have to think about how you were falling behind in your classes, or the pained look in Azriel’s eyes everytime they fell on you, or the general hushed tones your friends were speaking to you in. Like you were a dog that had just come back from living on the street. Like you were something to mend slowly and carefully. Something they were scared to kick while it was down. 

“You wanna take your fifteen?” 

It was the first thing Azriel had said to you all shift. The silence and synchonization you two fell into finally benefiting you. You shook your head and tilted your chin in a motion that said why don’t you take yours. There was a lull in the rush. Finally. So he did. Tucking his apron under the counter and nudging Cassian as he walked towards the door. Cassian followed after shooting you an apprehnsive glace, as if worried that you wouldn’t be able to hold down the fort. A completely unfounded concern. But now? You looked like you hadn’t slept since Halloween and it made him nervous. But he followed Azriel out anyways. Not wanting to ask you if you needed help for fear that you’d bite his head off at the insinutaiton. 

Cassian watched Azriel pace up and down the street. His palms pressing into his eyes as he did so. 

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” 

“Why do you only like me when I’m sad?” Azriel looked to his friend while parroting your words. He had been saying them repeatedly to Cassian for the last week. Cassian refusing to really talk about it, this was something he thought Azriel needed to come to terms with on his own. But now. After eight days of this being the only thing Az was able to talk about…he finally cracked, 

“Well…Why do you only like her when she’s sad?” 

Azriel started at him. His arms dropping to hang limp at his sides. He looked dumbfounded at Cassian’s question. Like he never expected that. He should have. But he didn’t. He hung his head and resumed his pacing. 

“I don’t know.” 

Cassian huffed a breath of complaint and crossed his arms. 

“I think…It’s because, as much as you don’t want to admit it, sometimes you like playing the hero so much that it makes you a villain.” 

And with that Cassian turned on his heel and went back inside. He had been doing that alot lately. Dropping bombs and then leaving before Azriel could really respond. It was driving Az crazy. Cassian of all people should not be the one putting him in place. Their dynamic suddenly switched. Nothing in his life at this moment felt the way that it should. 

He slumped down. Sitting on the curb, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket and trying to enjoy one small peaceful moment before going back to work. But he heard the door creak open, fully expecting Rhys to come reprimand him now, he didn’t turn to look who was approaching him.

You sat next to him. Curling into yourself slightly. Your arms wrapping around your bent legs to shield you from the cold and from the conversation you had steeled yourself into having. He finally looked towards you, a little surprised that you were there in the first place. You spoke first. Like you always did. 

“I’m sorry. For the other night.” 

He started shaking his head before you could even finish talking. “You don’t have to be sorry. You were right. I have the horrible habit of trying to save you from good things.” 

“Well I know I was right. But I didn’t have to say it like that. Like you were the only one to blame.” 

He sat with the words. Rolling the cigarette between his lips as he thought, 

“I want you to be happy.” 

“I know” you whispered like you didn’t really believe it and he pushed forwards, 

“No. I want you to be happy. I want to see it happen and I want to see it stay.” He paused and heaved in a deep and settling breath, “Because we’re friends.” 

“We’re friends?” 

“I think it’s what we’re best at.” He scrunched his nose a little as he said it. Almost teasing. Like maybe it wasn’t too soon to make jokes. Like they could start to rebuild from here. You didn’t say anything in response. But you smiled, strained and tired, but a smile. So he kept talking. For once he needed to keep talking. 

“The reason I never said anything the first time. After you left. Was because I thought you didn’t want me to. I thought I was saving you from something. Believe it or not…I was also scared. That it didn’t mean anything. And at the time…maybe it did. It probably meant everything. But now? It’s been so long and I..” 

He leaned back, resting his palms on the cold damp concrete of the sidewalk, letting the sting of it set his nerves and solidify his ground, “I wasted my chance and now I think you need to take yours. Don’t stay silent again because you’re scared.” 

“We both wasted our chance. It wasn’t just you.” Again that hushed tone. The hurried flow of your words, like if you didn’t get them out as fast as you could, you wouldn’t get them out again. 

“I think it’s for the better.” 

You stared at eachother now. A silent understanding passing between you. A settling warmth. A forgiveness that’s been long awaited. The silent turmoil of the last two years of your friendship finally starting to ease it’s way back to a steady rhythm. 

“You should talk to him. Again.” 

It was your turn to shake your head in defeat. A motion that seemed to be very popular lately. Something to share with just about everyone you knew. 

“I don’t know if he ever wants to hear from me again. If we can ever go back to the way it was.” 

Azriel let out a huff of laughter and stood up, brushing himself off as he did so. He offered you a hand and hauled you to your feet. He grasped both of your shoulders and said very seriously, 

“So don’t. Start over. Do it better. You can save this one.” 

★ ★ ★

You were walking home from work. Trying not to let Azriel’s words go to your head. You can save this one. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going. Your eyes trained on the lights that illuminated the worn brick of the road. The golden illumination from storefronts and restaurants casting a warm glow over the red cobblestone. You zoned out a little as you passed your favorite coffee shop. Inside the employees were putting chairs on tables and sweeping up. The smell of coffee and baked goods still wafting out the half open door. It wasn’t until you ran directly into someone, your book and phone clattering to the pavement, and your bag swinging off your shoulder that you really started to pay attention. You leaned down to pick up your things. Muttering your apologies. A large freckled hand came to rest over yours as you scrambled to pick up your book before the thin glaze of rain on the sidewalk started to seep into the pages. A hand you knew all to well. Accompanied by a smell that overwhelmed your senses. Vanilla and roasting almonds. Firewood and burnt sage. It was like an assault on your senses. The softness of his skin, interrupted only by the small calluses left there from his hockey stick. The fiery brush of his hair over his forehead, his amber eyes burning their way through yours. 

You rose together. Standing straight wouldn’t stop him from towering over you. His smile soft and tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked good. Tired, dark circles under his eyes, hair out of order, his sweater crumpled and wrinkled more than he’d ever let it be normally. But the warmth of him. That was there. His eyes no longer cold and guarded. They were searching and alight with a strange sort of mischief.  

“You should really watch where your going.” He was quiet as he spoke. Teasing in tone. 

You nodded a little shakily, “Yeah. I uh. I probably should.” 

“I’d hate to see a pretty thing like you run into a lamp post or something.”

A pretty thing like you. Something he hadn’t said to you since he first started hitting on you. Something he hadn’t said since he didn’t really know you. You didn’t know how to respond. So you, almost unconsciously, nodded. God I must look so fucking dumb. It was the only thing you could think. You were surprised he had stopped to help you at all. Surprised he was even here. He only ever came to this coffee shop when he was looking for you. 

“Eris.” He said it so casually. Like it was the most natural thing to do. Reaching out to shake your hand. Without thinking you introduced yourself in return, grasping his hand as he shook it. No questions. Like it was the only thing to say. The only thing to do.  A grin started to spread across his face as he said, 

“You know. You should let me take you out some time. Protect you from any incoming road blocks.” 

He was looking for you. You realized it just as you were hit with a small wave of confusion. He was asking you on a date like he didn’t know you at all. He was starting over. Like something in the universe had given him the same inclination that you were given. Starting over. 

“I uh…I’d like that.” 

He nodded and brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, “Good.” He whispered as that small fox like smile stretched it’s way further across his features. His freckles scrunching slightly with the bridge of his nose. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he started to turn in the direction of his house, the dead opposite direction of yours. He took one step before turning back around, 

“We’ll talk?” 

“We’ll talk.” You answered as fast as you could and with a small affirming nod. He mirrored the movement, pursing his lips as he did so. You looked at eachother briefly before you started to walk away. 

He watched as you did. Watched the way your shoulders relaxed a little and you ran your fingers over the hair he had smoother moments before. 

“I miss you too.” 

He called after you. You shot him a small smile over your shoulder, but didn’t say anything back. 

We’ll talk.

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @rosewood-cafe @kristijenner19 @becstersworld

@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@lupinswolfsbanes 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

@tolietpaperwater @redr0sewrites @acourtofbatboydreams @hextech-bros

[mad-katsuki]

the growth is happening people 👏 👏👏👏

[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter five: as sick as it sounds i loved you first

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - at the annual hockey party you have two much needed, long time coming, conversations.

word count - 4.2k

a/n - okay okay guys we're on our way to HEALING. this is good. i don't know man. at least they're all finally starting to communicate a little bit. I mean it's mostly her but hey she is drunk word vomiting. they boys don't have much room to talk. also they're stupid men....so.

read the rest of the series here!

You didn’t want to work. Didn’t want to get out of bed. Didn’t want to do anything. Blankets wrapped around you, cacooning you in a soft straight jacket of warmth. You hadn’t moved in hours despite being awake. Nothing seemed to really matter lately. Your shades were drawn. Darkness shrouding your room. 

Empty. You felt empty. Your apartment a shallow husk of a home. 

You thought of your favorite sweater, still at Eris’ apartment. Your hairbrush and your good pair of sneakers. Plants that had previously sat on the shelves of your room, now resting on the window sill of Eris’ living room. The sleep you had grown accustomed to. Warm and comfortable. His bedsheets cool against your skin and the smell of his cologne drifting through your nose. His fingers combing through your hair. His kisses along your collarbone to wake you up. Wasted. By what? A game you had played along with for traditions sake. For what? 

Eris. The day you had met him. Your freshman year. Two years ago.  In his white cable knit sweater, fraying around the edges. Expensive things he let go into disarray as if he didn’t care. A carefully curated look of dishevelment. His smirk and his glittering eyes. The way you could never get yourself to talk to him. The way his swaggering confidence and sharp remarks scared you shitless. The way his eyes would sometimes meet yours across crowded coffee shops, quiet libraries, or crushingly packed parties. Like he could taste just how much you wanted to talk to him. The way you had fallen in love with him from a distance. 

The clock strikes one and you groan. Pulling your blanket over your head and rolling onto your stomach, before sliding out of your bed. Unwilling and unhappy. Fine. Work it is. You couldn’t call out. Rhys would kill you if Cassian was the only bartender. Nothing seemed to get done when Cassian was the only bartender. 

★ ★ ★

“So let me get this straight.” Cassian set several glasses on the counter top and angled his body towards you, “You think that avoiding both Az and Eris is the best way to go about things?” 

You don’t look at him. Shaking your head you continue washing the bar glasses, “I’m not avoiding Azriel. He isn’t talking to me….Just like last time.” 

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to say something.” 

Cassian moved closer to you. Forcing your attention away from the dishes. You huff a breath of vague annoyance and turn to meet his eyes. 

“What am I supposed to say?” 

He didn’t have an answer for you. He shrugged and pulled the glass out of your hands and nudged you away from the sink. Choosing to take your task instead of answering you. You look past him towards the clock on the wall. 

“I have to go. My shift is over and Az will be here any second.” 

“See. Avoiding.” 

You don’t respond as you take off your apron and tuck it beneath the bar, grabbing your bag, and heading for the door. You’re almost in the clear. Almost. You run directly into Azriel as he slides through the doorway. Muttering an apology you try to push past him, but he grabs your arm. Finally you look up from his chest to those hazel eyes, boring into you, studying your every slight facial expression. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before any words manage to escape. 

“Have uh…have a good shift.” 

With that your out the door. The cold fall wind whipping through your hair and stinging your cheeks red. You stand outside the bar. Out of breath from the one brief interaction with Azriel. The look he gave you still seared into your sightline. You look around the street. Empty, the streetlights just flickering on as it hit dusk, leaves no longer that buttery yellow and orange but a burnt red. Fall in full flush. The crisp air felt like an assault on your lungs. 

A ding from your phone snapped you out of the trance the weather had bewitched upon you. Mor. 

Mor: Come to the party with me tonight. 

You sigh. That was the last thing you wanted to do. The hockey team’s halloween party. The last thing you wanted to do. Another ding interrupts your response. 

Mor: I know you don’t want to go. But if I have to get drunk by myself imagine what could happen to me. 

You chuckle at the vague hint towards a catastrophe. You type out a response, 

You: What could possibly happen to you Morrigan?

Mor: Uhm…I have to be sexy by myself. Which is a damn shame. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. Gnawing the already bitten raw flesh. A nervous tick. One that had been rearing it’s ugly head in the last couple weeks. You nod to yourself. Steeling yourself. You could do this. 

You: Fine. 

She didn’t respond. You knew she’d be at your apartment to pick you up in a couple hours anyway. 

★ ★ ★

“Stop fidgeting with your dress. You look good.” Mor hissed at you as you pulled your skirt down for what had to be the fourth time in the last couple minutes. 

The party was loud, the lights were low, and you were already three shots in, and working on your third drink. It was way too strong. One of Mor’s famous concoctions. It seemed the only way to get through this night. Your eyes scanned the room for familiar faces. You knew Azriel would show up. You knew Eris would be there two. Neither of them ever missed this party. You had been constantly scanning the room for Cassian’s towering form, knowing that Az and Rhys wouldn’t be far behind him. Luckily for you they hadn’t shown yet. 

You reached up to rub your neck. There was still a bruise there from where Azriel had sunk his teeth. That light red mark a reminder of the horrible decision you had made. You hadn’t heard from Eris since he told you he was done. You supposed that maybe you should stop expecting to hear from him. But the silence still hurt. It stretched through your mind constantly. That lack of communication. The gravity of the quiet. 

Mor looked you up and down. Her eyes narrowing as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned to face you fully, taking the cup out of your hands and pulling your arms lightly. 

“Loosen up. Come on. Let’s dance.” 

You hang your head and try to pull out of her grip, but when she wanted something she got it. So you begrudgingly let her drag you to the dance floor. Letting your body move with hers as the buzz of your drinks settled over you like a warm blanket. For a couple minutes, as the music washed over you, the bass pumping along with your heartbeat, you let yourself forget. About everything. 

But like all peaceful moments it didn’t last long. Out of the corner of your eye, through the flashing neon lights, and the swarm of people, you caught sight of him. Well you caught sight of a flash of auburn hair and a flash of freckles across cream skin. Eris. His face half covered by a golden mask that looked awfully like a fox. His hand on the small of some girls back. The girl wasn’t someone you knew. Another accessory. He had gone back to being exactly what everyone thought he was. 

You allow girls to accompany you to parties. You don’t date. 

Your words to him swam through your ears. A violet wave of memory. Something sour climbed its way up your throat and into your mouth. You pulled out of Mor’s grasp and searched frantically for a bathroom. Spotting it across the room you made straight for the door. Pushing past everyone. The crowd suddenly suffocating. The people bumping into eachother, jumping, huddled together. The music reverberating through the room. All of it overwhelming. All of it too loud. Suffocating. 

Azriel had just walked into the party. Cassian and Rhysand on either side of him. The first thing he saw was you. Booking it to the bathroom. Your eyes frantic and your hand coming to cover your mouth. He made to follow you, knowing exactly what was about to happen. And then he saw it. Eris had clocked you the same second he had. Both men made eye contact. Standing a couple feet away from eachother. Neither moving. Neither following. 

Eris had seen you before you saw him. You looked damn good. He was absolutley sure that Mor had put you in that outfit. The skirt a little too short. Your hair curled the same way Mor’s always was. You skin gleaming from sweat. The heat of the room making your every inch sparkle a little under the lights. Your eyes closed as you danced. Body swaying in time with the beat of the music. You looked too good. His jaw clenched. He was making sure to get closer to the girl he had brought. Making sure to make it very clear that this was his date. He saw the way your expression shifted. Saw the way the panic in you seemd to surface. It was almost like he heard the saw words you did. 

You allow girls to accompany you to parties. You don’t date. 

He hated every second of it. Every second of get back. But if he had to play the part. For you. For your friends he would do it.  Play the asshole. Be whatever it is that they wanted him to be. Over you? Yeah sure he could play pretend for a night. It was nothing right? It was casual. No labels. Just company. 

Eris thought of when he first saw you. His sophomore year. Two years ago. In your leather jacket. Your hair cut short. Your quiet remarks to your friends that always seemed to make them laugh. The blush that would spread across your cheeks when he’d meet your gaze. When he’d notice the way you stared. The way you were always flanked by your guard dogs. Cassian and Azriel. Sometimes Morrigan and Amren. Always too accompanied to approach. Your coy smile and your heavy lashes. A sight for sore eyes at every suffocating party and overly heated coffee shop. An ever present distraction. The way he would laugh louder to see if it would draw your attention, and it always did. The way that he had finally gotten you alone at the start of term party this year. When years of passing interaction, casual hellos, and a warm smile had finally gotten him into your life. 

And then he saw Azriel. Saw how Az noticed you fleeing the dance floor just as he did. Noticed the way that his body was arched into your pursuit the same way his own was. Both feeling that incessant need to make sure you were okay. Their eyes met. Play the part. Let him have it. Be what they want you to be. He broke eye contact with Azriel and bent his head in submission. Go on. The motion seemed to say. You play your part and I’ll play mine. Eris leaned back down to the girl he had brought. Pretending to listen to whatever she was saying as his eyes trailed Azriel to the bathroom. Nodding, not paying attention as he followed shadowsinger across the floor and stood at the closed bathroom door, listening to the conversation held within. 

★ ★ ★

You didn’t want to throw up. You paced the small bathroom clutching your stomach. You were a bartender for fucks sake. If you couldn’t hold your alcohal then what was the point? You clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. Trying not to let anything come up. Slowly you sank to the ground. Letting your head fall against the wall behind you, your hand clutching the rim of the toilet as if in preparation for what was to come. 

The door creaked open and Azriel slid into the room. White t shirt, soaked with blood, clinging to his frame. His hair greased and parted down the middle. A plastic curved knife tucket into the belt loop of his jeans. Billy Loomis. Of course he had dressed up as Billy Loomis. You had watched scream together last year. You vaguely remembered telling him he’d look damn good dressed up like that, before Cassian snorted and said something about it somehow not being emo enough and god forbid Az wear anything but a black shirt. 

He crouched down next to you. Slowly pushing the hair out of your face and moving your body towards the toilet. Holding your hair in one hand and gently brushing a hand over your back as he whispered, 

“Just let it out.” 

You shook your head. Humming your disagreement. But the movement of your body, the small shift in your position, the shake of your head. It sent you over the edge and you lurched over the toilet. Wretching and coughing. Azriel softly shushed you, trying his best to be comforting, trying to be soothing. He had held your hair back while you vomited more times than he could remember. Freshman year was your black out drunk year and he remembered it well. 

Slowly you raised your head, blinking through watery eyes at Azriel. His concerned expression did nothing to calm the storm in your stomach. In your head. You sucked in a shuddering breath and he tilted his head. 

“Why do you only like me when I’m sad?” 

Your question was like a knife to his gut. A sharp, achingly cold, pain twisting it’s way through his organs. He slightly shook his head as if he didn’t understand. You sniffled, hiccuping slightly as you continued, 

“You dont…You only want me when you can’t have me or when I’m so fucking distraught that I can’t think straight.” 

Twisting. Pushing deeper. That knife. Like you wanted his insides to spill out and his blood to drench your hands. 

“Why?” 

A whisper. Small and pleading. He couldn’t think of something to say. His mind completely blank. You push his hands away from you. Off your shoulder and out of your hair. Scrambling away from his contact. 

“I left. That first time. Because I was so fucking scared that when you woke up you’d pretend it didn’t happen. That we’d go back to being friends and act like nothing had changed. I left because I was convinced it didn’t mean anything to you and I just didn’t want to hear you say it. I didn’t want to see the regret on your face if I was still there.” 

You never talked about it. A silent agreement to never talk about what happened two years ago. Your first comment on it brought a horrified look to his face that he couldn’t wipe away fast enough. But he tried. Tried to reknit his brows and close his mouth, 

“You’re drunk” 

You wave your hands and shake your head, “No. No. I didn’t want to just be a pity fuck that you didn’t care about. That you didn’t ever want to talk about. So I left and I hoped you’d prove me wrong and you never did. You stayed silent and we never fucking talked about it again. Because I was right.” 

“You weren’t” 

Azriel wanted to believe it. Wanted to be able to tell you that you were wrong. Wanted to tell you it was more than that. But that knife in his gut. It was all he could focus on. The sharp blade of reality. He wanted you when you were sad. Something to fix. Something he could try to piece back together. But he knew you were never something he could hold together. So he was there when you needed rebuilding. Your voice struck him again, 

“I was. I was right.” 

You rose to your feet now. Pushing past him as he stood to try and block you. Shoving your hands into his chest to get him to move out of your way. 

“You only like me when I’m sad.” 

You clutched the door handle and wiped your face hastily. Trying to rid yourself of any crying evidence. Not wanting to look a mess in front of the people you knew were lined up outside the bathroom door. 

“I had something. Someone. That wanted me when I was whole. When I was happy. Someone who made me happy.” 

He reached for you and you flinched away, “And I let you ruin it because for some reason I kept thinking. How could I deserve it?  And now look at me.” 

You motioned around the bathroom, at yourself. As if you could illustrate the hollow feeling in your gut. In your chest. 

Azriel muttered your name. The only thing he could think to say. You pressed your lips into a tight line and took a deep breath before leaving him to stand alone in the bathroom. 

★ ★ ★

You pushed your way through the sweltering room. The patio. The front steps. It didn’t matter. Outside. You just wanted to be outside. You bump into Rhys before you can get to the door. His hands reaching to clasp your shoulders. His face etched with worry. His eyes scanning your face and one hand smoothing your hair down. 

“You okay?” 

You could barely hear him over the din of the party. You nod quickly and push his worrying hands away, 

“You got a cigarette?” 

“Uh yeah?” 

He reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a pack, handing you one, and slipping a lighter into your free hand as you tuck the cigarette behind you ear. Pushing past him you head for the door once more. Slipping out. Relishing in the way the cool october air pricked at your exposed skin. The way it burned your nostrils and finally provided a steady gust of air to your lungs. You walk to the curb, sitting down and fumbling with the lighter that Rhys had given you. 

Trying to light the cigarette proved difficult with the halloween wind and the light rain now dripping from the velvet sky. Someone tall moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from the breeze and the drizzle. Finally allowing the lighter to spark to life. You muttered a thank you, taking a long drag, and finally looked up at the figure before you. 

Eris. 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me” Smoke flowed past your lips as you said it. He offered a half hearted smile before crouching to sit on the curb next to you. Someone who made me happy. Your words to Azriel echoing in Eris’ ears as he sat. 

“I just wanted a smoke.” 

He pulled the cigarette from your fingers and took a drag. Holding eye contact with you like a challenge. 

“That girl finally bore the shit out of you?” You shouldn’t comment on it. On her. You had no right. You were never really together in the first place and after what you had done. Running to Azriel as soon as Eris said he was done with you. You shouldn’t comment on it. 

He shrugged and tried his best to blow the smoke away from you as he exhaled. He turned back towards you. His eyes wandering across your face, down your neck, across your shoulders, and then suddenly backtracking. Back to the crook of your neck. That ever fading bite mark. That last physical reminder. His eyes stayed there. The deep russet color now smoldering. 

“You finally done with Az? Or is that just getting started?” 

“There’s nothing to start. There never was. I…get that now.” 

He snorted and brought the cigarette back to his lips. You ran your tongue across your teeth. Trying to think of something to say. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You did exactly what you were expected to.” He paused and you spoke again, 

“Is that what you’re doing? Bringing a date here?” 

He shrugged again. Play the part. Eyes still boring their way through your soul. That slight bit of connection. That eye contact. However frustrated, however angry, filling some sort of hole that he had left in you. You sigh deeply and stare at your shoes. Lightly tapping your heels together like maybe the motion would somehow bring you home. Straight back into his arms. But it wouldn’t. 

“You know. We don’t have to stay the way other people see us.” 

Something in his gaze softened. Like your words had cracked through his walls. Built some sort of window that could be opened into a real conversation. So you continued, 

“Something to be fixed or someone to hate. Angry. We don’t have to be angry.” 

“Are you angry?” His voice was cool. Like he didn’t want you to know that he really did wonder if you were angry with him. For pushing you out. For being unwilling to talk after one issue. 

“Not at you. At myself for…” You trailed off. Eyes going distant. Voice growing soft and much much warmer. “Do you remember when we first met? You were wearing that white sweater. The one with the holes in it.” 

He tried not to smile. He didn’t think you remembered that. Didn’t know if you even really bothered to remember anything about him before he had managed to convince you to let him into your life for real. He nodded, looking away from you. 

“You know…When you finally made a move on me a couple months ago. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Eris Vanserra, could have anyone he wants, heir to his fathers company, ever charming, hockey super star, total fucking asshole to everyone….was talking to me like he really cared what I had to say.” 

He still wasn’t looking at you. He had hung his head and closed his eyes. As if remembering that night himself. 

“I don’t know if you were going to say it in the locker room. It seemed like you were. But…” You slump your shoulders before standing up and brushing yourself off. Leaves falling from where they had stuck to your legs. He turned to look at you, his eyes searching, almost pleading. Like he was begging you not to say what you were about to say. 

“As sick as it sounds. I loved you first Eris. I was just waiting for you to notice and then when you did I was so fucking scared that you would do what everyone told me you would do, that you’d fuck me and then leave me like it was nothing.” 

Again it felt like you were going to throw up, “And you proved them wrong. And that was scarier. Because what if I didn’t deserve it.” 

He tried to say something, but you cut him off. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to forgive me. Maybe you shouldn’t. But I just…” 

You shake your head. Almost like you were giving up and started to walk away. You were going to toss one final thing over your shoulder. But you squared your shoulder and looked at him. He was standing now, like he wanted to follow you. Like he wanted to walk you home. Something he had grown so used to doing. But he didn’t budge as you said, 

“I feel empty without you.” 

A small smile spread across his face. A smile he had thrown at you when everything was okay. When you two were good. When you were happy. Mischievous. Fox like and sly. 

“Not like that. Not like in a sexual way. In the like I miss you way. Asshole.” 

A small laugh escaped his lips at that. At your slight teasing tone. You stare at each other for a moment before you say, serious now, 

“I miss you.” 

And with that you turned and started to walk down the street. You had to go home. You didn’t want to talk to any of your friends. Didn’t want to face Azriel again. Didn’t want to drink anymore or dance or act like everything was fine. 

He wanted to say it back. Every bone in his body screaming at him to say it back. To tell you that he missed you too. But he couldn’t. You were too far away. Too drunk. Too sad. 

But that smile he had given you. That teasing tone that you had held for even a split second. A small glimmer of hope. Maybe there was something to salvage there. 

Azriel leaned against the doorframe of the house. He had been watching the conversation you had with Eris. Not able to hear it, but monitoring from afar. He had followed you out. To try and talk. Try and apologize for everything. For how stupid he had been. He didn’t want to lose you…as a friend. Above all else as a friend. As family. That’s what you were supposed to be. You and everyone else in your friend group. Family. Your final words were all he had managed to hear. 

I miss you. 

Something you would have never said to him. Rightly so, Azriel supposed. Eris eventually turned away from your fleeting form and met Azriel’s eyes. Az wondered how long Eris had known he was skulking in the background. He offered Eris a small nod. A small concession. Eris nodded back. 

A brief. Silent. Understanding of sorts maybe. 

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[mad-katsuki]

I NEEDD MOREEEEEEEEE