some of y’all will be engaging in witch hunt, accusing writers left and right and then wondering why more and more writers take their works down and don’t share them with you ungrateful losers anymore.
“this fic looks like it was created by ai” yeah that’s because ai was trained on human-made works and it was trained to mimic human-made works.
you claim you hate ai because ai harms real artists, yet you are out there accusing and harassing artists because “their vibes just aren’t right”. at this point, you are the ones who cause more harm — to art and the writing community — than ai does.
you are the ones killing art and writing community, the community you want to “protect against ai”.
so at this point, you’re killing the community faster than ai is. good luck when the community you want to protect has no human-made work left because you accused and harassed genuine artists/writers away and the only things that are left for you to read are actual ai-generated fics.
if you think a fic is ai and if that bothers you like it does me, quietly exit the tab and avoid their future works like a normal, decent person. because with every "this fic looks ai" comment, there's always a chance of you wrongly accusing an innocent writer and further harming the writing community as a whole.
Summary: how he reacts to another girl touching him
Warnings: fluff, angry Qifrey
A/N: this man is so wholesome, and I adore him for it
Qifrey heard that Mr Nolnoa has gotten new inventory so he begged you like a kid wanting candy at a festival to come with him. You haven’t seen Mr Nolnoa in a while so you easily agreed.
Qifrey follows Mr Nolnoa around like a lost puppy as he gets shown all the new things Nolnoa now has.
“This will increase a spells duration,” Nolnoa points to another powder, “This one increase the range.”
“WOW! This all so incredible,” Qifrey says with stars in his eyes.
Nolnoa leads you two to a new area but as you pass a side room you see a young boy struggling trying to reach something in what looks like the kitchen. You tap Qifrey’s shoulder, “I’ll catch up. I just want to look at something real quick.”
“Okay. If you want anything grab it!” He continues to follow Nolnoa upstairs.
You walk into the kitchen to see the boy on the table trying to reach a shelf. You purposely step louder so you don’t scare him with him voice.
At the sound of your heavy footsteps the boy turns his head. Smiling at him, “Do you need help?”
“Uh yes… the crackers are in this shelf.”
You walk to the cabinet and open the door. He points to the crackers he wants and you grab them for her.
“Thank you Miss.”
“Of course.” You hold your hand out so you can help him get down. Once he’s safe and with his snack you walk out and go to try and find Qifrey.
You walk up the stairs to see a lot more people ended up coming while you were busy for the last couple of minutes. You’re thankful Qifrey is tall so you can find him easily. Yet there is a girl eagerly talking to him.
“Qifrey it’s soooooo good to see you again!” She claps.
Qifrey ignores her to keep looking at different papers. She pouts at being ignored and that makes you recognize her. She is one of the girls that was obsessed with Qifrey while you two were at the Great Hall.
“Don’t ignore me!” She grabs his hand.
He quickly slaps his hand away and sends a deathly glare, “Do not touch me.”
The girl steps back a couple steps and stutters before dashing away.
Qifrey has always had eyes on him. Whether that be judging him or people finding him attractive. Since you were kids you got use to seeing him deal with it. It never really bugged him unless they got in his space. That’s when it’s annoyed him.
You continue your walk up the stairs and come to stand beside him. You look down at the papers before him, “Find a new one?”
He turns to his side and jumps in excitement. He eagerly grabs your hand and leads you to a new area, “Mr Nolnoa showed me all these new pens he has crafted.”
The pens sit nicely in a display, they all are so beautifully crafted. Nolnoa definitely put in much time and effort for all them to look so perfect.
“They are so beautiful!”
“But there is one missing.”
“Oh? Did someone buy it? What did it look like?”
Qifrey goes to his pocket and pulls out a box and passes it to you, “Here.”
You open the box and see a beautifully crafted pen. The grip looks so comfortable, it is colored perfectly, and has cute designs crafted onto it.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Good because it’s yours.”
Your head shoots up, “What!?”
Qifrey tilts his head, “It’s yours. I had him make you one after yours cracked. That is actually why we are here today.”
You take a step forward to wrap your arms around his neck and hold him tightly, “Thank you so much.”
He wraps his arms around your waist, “Anything for you.”
You pull your head back and raise yourself on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. “It means a lot. I’m so happy.”
“So am I.” He admits with a light blush coloring his cheeks.
You pull back and slip your hand back in his, “Well, let’s go test it out!”
❏ Qifrey is the type to always open the door, lift up the blanket for you to slip under when you’re ready to rest for the night, and pull the chair out for you to sit in.
❏ Qifrey is the type to shield you from the rain at all times whenever you two are out. It brings him a sense of comfort for the both of you.
❏ Qifrey is the type to think of you whenever he’s out grabbing a thing or two before heading back to the atelier. Sometimes even telling the girls (his little qiflings) if it’s a surprise.
❏ Qifrey is the type to give you a morning, afternoon, and evening kiss before resting for the night. Think of it almost as a reassuring habit for him every day. A reminder like “yup you’re still here with me”.
❏ Qifrey is the type to assure you not to worry about himself whenever he gets worried or anxious about things. Whenever it’s the brimmed caps or forbidden magic. He doesn’t want you to worry alongside him, as he wishes for you to be living with little to no worries.
❏ Qifrey is the type to make out slow but romantically sweet with you in the long mornings on the weekends when his apprentices are still asleep. Therefore, it gives you two more time for yourselves before starting the day.
❏ Qifrey is the type to give you little hand massages whenever you’ve been working on a spell or if he notices ink stains, thick calluses, or you complaining silently about how your hands ache. It brings solace to you both.
❏ Qifrey is the type to hold your hand and give you small pecks on your forehead or cheek whenever you two are out from the atelier. He doesn’t mind PDA but likes to keep it small usually. Sometimes, however, whenever he’s feeling lovey-dovey, he just can’t help it. ♡
❏ Qifrey is the type to wait till you fall asleep first before he does. Again, it gives him a sense of peace knowing you’re safe to sleep beside him.
❏ Qifrey is the type to wrap his arms around your waist when he’s exhausted or done for the day. Resting his heavy head on one of your shoulders. Maybe even pressing a lingering kiss on it while he closes his eyes.
Qifrey is the type of partner that does like….really small, quiet, chaste displays of affection that end up sticking with you all day.
He’ll kneel down and tie/clasp your shoe for you, and then his thumb will brush against the ball of your ankle once.
He’ll take your hand to help you out of a small space or across a creek or over a puddle and give a very small, very light kiss to your knuckles before letting go.
He’ll pluck something from your hair - a twig, a leaf, a feather, a small bit of fuzz - and brush his fingertips down your cheek gently.
He’ll inspect your palm if you’ve been writing or drawing for too long, and massage his thumbs into the muscles and joints of your hand to relieve tension.
He’ll kiss your forehead when he bids you goodnight and linger there for just a moment longer than is needed.
He’s not the kind of guy who’ll make out with you in a back alley, but the small touches he does always make your heart speed up and the air turn a little sharper between you. Building to something bigger in small bits.
Self indulgent thoughts about ushijima’s large hands.
ft. ushijima x y/n ◞♡
cw ! slightly suggestive
͏͏boyfriend!ushijima whose large hands splay over your side when he wants to pass by, always finding your waist even when there’s enough space for him to slip through.
“Toshi, can you grab the tomato sauce from the cabinet?”
“Of course.”
You don’t even have time to prepare before his cold fingers slide across your stomach, thumbs brushing over your hip bones as he reaches past you. The pot in your hands wobbles, nearly tipping into the sink, as heat rushes to your face.
He tilts his head down at you, voice low, “You okay, baby?”
(You’re not.)
boyfriend!ushijima whose large fingers find your face when he doesn't have your full attention.
You’re scrolling through your TikTok feed when he calls your name. “Did you hear me?”
“Mhm,” you hum, still not looking up.
Moments , his hand is on your face, fingers spanning your cheek, thumb pressing lightly against your jaw. He turns your head toward him with a careful grip until your eyes meet his.
“Now you're listening,” he says simply. (hell yea I am)
You swallow hard, phone forgotten as you meet his olive eyed stare.
boyfriend!ushijima whose hands hook beneath your thighs when he picks you up like it’s effortless.
You sharply gasp in surprise when your feet suddenly leave the ground, his hands firm and steady on the backs of your thighs. He lifts you with no effort, your arms instinctively looping around his shoulders.
“Toshi! what are you doing?”
His gaze doesn’t waver, calm as ever. “Carrying you.”
Your breath stutters as his fingers flex against your skin, thumbs brushing dangerously close to the curve beneath you.
He draws his eyebrows together in confusion. “Is this uncomfortable?”
It’s not. (at least not in the way he's thinking)
boyfriend!ushijima whose hand closes around your wrist when you try to walk out after an argument.
Your voice is still sharp in the air when you turn toward the door, anger burning a hole though your chest. But before you can reach the handle, his fingers wrap firmly around your wrist, halting you mid-step.
His hand is so large it nearly swallows yours whole, grip unyielding but never hurtful. You tug once, twice, but he doesn’t let go.
"Toshi let go of me, I cant do this right now."
“Don’t leave.” His voice is steady, but there’s something raw beneath it. His thumb brushes once against your pulse, the faintest tremor in the gesture.
You don’t look back, not wanting to give in without a proper apology.
Still, you stop pulling. (And that’s enough for him.)
𝒃lurb ﹕ a 'secret' relationship between a manager and an opposing team's captain doesn't exactly remain secret for long.. ╱ 𝒘𝒄 # 1.3k
— 𝒂uthor's 𝒏ote ﹕ the ushijima version of distraction is here!! oh i love toshi sm ;) this one is shorter than oikawa's hope you don't mind
requested ☆
"why is he looking at l/n-san like she's a particularly difficult math problem?" tanaka whispers, shielding his eyes with his hand as if ushijima's gaze is the sun (theyre indoors..). "it's unsettling. he's trying to psych us out by targeting our managers!"
"maybe he's trying to intimidate our support system," nishinoya hisses back, puffing out his chest and stepping slightly in front of you. "don't worry, l/n! we'll protect you! he might be a very strong, but he hasn't met the power protection of the guardian deity yet!"
you sigh heavily, clicking your pen repeatedly and focusing very hard on your clipboard.
you try to keep your expression neutral. "he's just.. looking, guys. he's a very observant player. focus, come on – we're down by five points and the set is almost over."
tsukishima, however, is even more observant than usual today – and trust me, that's saying something. he leans back against the bench, intelligent eyes darting between you and the giant across the court.
he'd noticed the way your hand trembled slightly when ushijima had stepped up to serve, and he'd definitely noticed the nearly identical sports watches on both your wrists – a brand that was notoriously hard to get in this prefecture.
he hasn't said anything yet, but the smirk playing on his lips suggests he's putting the pieces of a very scandalous puzzle together.
and that's not a good sign.
the whistle blows for a timeout, and the gym goes quiet. as you step forward to hand daichi a water bottle, a large, looming shadow falls over you.
everyone – karasuno and shiratorizawa included – freezes in place. a hush has fallen across the gym.
ushijima wakatoshi had walked across the court, which certainly wasn't allowed. he was so tall that you have to peer up just to see his face, which remained as expressionless as a stone wall.
"y/n," he says. his voice is deep, carrying across the entire gym like he's announcing a royal decree.
"ushijima-san," you reply, your voice cracking slightly as you try to maintain a professional, 'manager to opponent' distance. you widen your eyes suggestively at him, 'ushijima-wakatoshi-you-better-shut-the-fuck-up-right-now'-i-swear-to–
you and your boyfriend had been doing a pretty good job at keeping things on the down low. so why was he acting like this now? "you're, erm, on the wrong side of the net. your coach is staring daggers at you."
but he doesn't move. he doesn't even acknowledge the rest of your team, who are currently staring with a mix of fear and confusion, which isn't exactly surprising since ushijima wakatoshi just walked across the court like it's nothing.
including tanaka and nishinoya. especially tanaka and nishinoya.
instead, ushijima reaches out, and for a terrifying second, tanaka and nishinoya look ready to launch a physical assault to save you – but ushijima merely reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear ever so gently.
"you forgot your lunch on my kitchen counter this morning," he rumbles matter of factly. not a question. "i brought it. it's currently in my gym bag. you should eat it. nutrition is vital for a manager's best performance, and you mentioned you felt off yesterday."
now, we all hear about silence being described in stories all the time, but they can't compare to the one that follows this. you can hear the distant sound of a bird chirping outside because no one in the gym is even breathing.
"kitchen.. counter?" hinata squeaks, tilting his head in confusion. "this.. morning? like.. the morning that happened today?"
tsukishima tuts, rolling his eyes. "no. last year's."
kageyama frowns. "that lunch must be very mouldy then, if it was from last year. l/n-san shouldn't eat it."
"idiot, i was being sarcasti-"
"wait," sugawara says, his eyes intrigued as he looks between your beet red face and ushijima's non expressive one. "you two.. live together? is that what 'kitchen counter' implies? ohoh-"
"our families are neighbors!" you blurt out, trying to save whatever scrap is left. "we've known each other since we were kids!"
ushijima frowns slightly, looking at you with a hint of disapproval. "that is an incomplete and flawed explanation, y/n. we've been in a relationship for fourteen months now. why are you omitting the truth?"
why are you telling the truth? you think sourly, but you're not too mad. in fact..
"it is inefficient to lie when the evidence of our cohabitation – even if only for breakfast somedays – is so apparent." ushijima finishes.
yeah.
"FOURTEEN MONTHS?!" the karasuno bench explodes in a flurry of pure shock.
on the other side of the net, tendou is doubled over laughing, slapping his knee as if saying, 'oh, what a kneeslapper!' "oh, wakatoshi-kun! you're so blunt! look at them, they look like they've seen a ghost! you really know how to kill the vibe, you ju-"
"ushijima-san," daichi says, stepping forward with his left eye twitching uncontrollably. "you can't just.. cross the court and claim our manager during a match."
ushijima turns his gaze to daichi, looking at him with the same interest he might show a mere weed. "i'm not claiming her. she's a person with her own thoughts and has chosen to remain at an underperforming school despite my advice. she should have come to shiratorizawa – the volleyball program here is superior, and the commute would be shorter for us both. it'd allow for twenty more minutes of sleep per day."
he then looked back at you, ignoring the collective gasp (mainly from tanaka and nishinoya) from the karasuno team at the underperforming comment.
"i'll wait by the bus after the match. i have the salmon onigiri your mother made for me to give to you. i also have the sweater you left in my car."
"wakatoshi, go back to your team!" you hiss, pushing at his solid chest with your face red. no use, though. it's like trying to move a brick wall.
"very well," he says, nodding respectfully to kiyoko, who watches with an amused smile.
as he walks back to his side, tendou drapes an arm over his shoulders, whispering something about romantic dominance, while ushijima just looks confused.
the match resumed, but karasuno was a wreck. every time ushijima spiked the ball, tanaka would scream, "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OUR MANAGER, YOU MOUNTAIN!" which only resulted in ushijima looking bewildered because, technically, he wasn't touching you at the moment.
even hinata was distracted, whispering, "ushijima? boyfriend?" every time he rotated to the front.
when the game ends, with shiratorizawa unsurprisingly taking the win, the teams begin to pack up. you're just trying to avoid the interrogation glares from your teammates.
"so," tsukishima drawls, walking past you. "he.. is your boyfriend? i have to say, your taste is… interesting."
"he's very sweet once you get to know him!" you defend, narrowing your eyes at the blond.
just then, the gym doors open. ushijima's standing there, already changed out of his jersey. he's holding a small, insulated lunch bag with a little cat pattern on it – your lunch bag.
"y/n. the rice will get cold," he calls out across the gym.
you sigh, waving a hand to your 'are you guys seeing what i'm seeing' eyed team. "i'll see you guys on monday. don't.. don't make this a thing in the group chat, okay? please."
"it's already a thing!" nishinoya wails as you walk away. hinata nods in agreement. "he stole our manager! how are we supposed to win against a guy who gives our manager salmon onigiri?!"
as you reached ushijima, he takes your bag from you without a word, swinging it over his shoulder alongside his own.
"did you find the match satisfactory?" he asks, looking at you as you walk toward the gates. "your team has improved, though their defensive positioning is still quite erratic."
"it was fine, toshi. a bit dramatic, though, thanks to you."
"i don't understand," he says, looking perplexed as he blinks at you.
"yeah.. don't worry about it."
sooo hope that satisfied you and i'm so sorry you had to wait two whole months 😭🙏🙏 i didn't know what to do for the title so erm
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content ଳ smut!, ushijima/fem!reader, uh that’s about it
a/n ଳ Saw this Ushijima edit a while ago and it really worked me up so I js had to get it of my chest #poundtownnn🤤
Ushijima is a monster.
Anyone who’s seen him play knows it—anyone who’s ever witnessed his raw power.
It’s the kind that sticks in your mind long after the game ends. Partly because you’re pretty sure that your arms would snap if you ever tried to receive one of his serves, but mostly because he’s absurdly attractive. Overly so. One person really doesn’t need to be that hot. It’s borderline greedy of him, honestly.
…Anyways.
Your little story started when your roommate dragged you to the school’s gym, going on and on about some guitarist on the volleyball team.
Sports weren’t your thing, especially not during exam week, so you told her that making googoo eyes at the players would have to wait.
She didn’t take it too well. At all, really, cause you ended up going and got to see Shiratorizawa’s pride and joy, Ushijima Wakatoshi, in the flesh.
Somehow, despite his sheer size and presence, he’d completely slipped past you. And with a growing grin on your face, you swore he’d never slip from you again.
You stayed for the entire game. Anyone could tell how good he was, and it only made you more eager for the slip-up you were sure would come. You’d be damned if you didn’t get to see his pretty little face twist at least once. Something in you knew that desperation would look nice on him.
Call it a perversion, or a kink, or whatever—you were going to see it.
But it never came.
Ushijima never lost.
You could tell from his record, sure, but his face said it all. It never betrayed a hint of doubt or anxiety. He never wavered—never even scowled.
Because to him, the outcome was already decided. His strength trumped everything. Forget grace or elegance, because his power was more than enough to carry his team to victory.
You befriended him—somewhat—after many embarrassing attempts. All to figure out what went on in that pretty little head.
“You think I’m arrogant?”
“No,” you huffed a quiet laugh, “I just think you don’t even consider the possibility of losing.”
He didn’t look offended. If anything, he seemed to consider it.
“…Because I won’t.”
But he did.
For all his talk, his team—Miyagi’s best—got beaten by a back-alley unknown school.
And you paid the price.
“Stay still.” His grip borders on bruising as he pulls on your hips, cock burying itself back inside your needy pussy.
You don’t know how it happened. He was mad and frustrated, and he crumbled just like you thought he would—but then he saw you in the halls, and you smiled at him, but then he grabbed you by the wrist and…and—
"Ngh—shit...Ushijima-ah!" Your knees buckle from his harsh thrusts. He’s mean, so mean and it’s all because of his stupid loss!
It’s been ages of this slow, torturous fucking, and every time you think you’ve adjusted, he pounds the thought out of you—the bastard.
When another whine of his name escapes your throat, he finally speaks.
“I’m not as unaware as you think I am.”
A hand slides up your back, pushing you further down into the mattress. Every wet squelch from his deep thrusts gets you all choked up, and it draws a shaky laugh out of him.
“You desired me,” he says, “yet still wished to see me fail. You did a poor job of hiding either.”
A quiet breath leaves him.
“It intrigued me,” he adds, “but I can’t have you making…a mockery of me.“
A..A mockery? “Is…that—ugh—seriously why you decided to…to screw me? Hnh…because your massive ego got a little bruised!?”
You scrape together what remains of your strength and turn your head. His head hangs low, lips parted and wet, eyes barely open as they track you.
“…Yes.”
The strain in your neck becomes too much, so you try to turn away, but Ushijima just rolls you onto your back and…holy. Actually seeing where his dick goes inside is a…a whole new thing. Makes it worse. So much worse.
Ushijima’s lips come to kiss your shoulder far too gently for how he’s been acting.
“I..I knew there was something wrong with you. Freak of nature is what you are..ha..”
“Say whatever you want,” he smiles—you feel it, “you’re still holding onto me.”
And you are. Your nails have long been clawing at his broad back, marking him as yours while he takes his sweet time breeding you.
If he had his way, sex would’ve lasted the whole night—maybe even till morning. But Tendou walked in on both of you a few moments later, so…
cw: suggestive content, reader is depicted to be shorter than him (non-specified height)
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a ‘hand-on-hip’ or ‘hand-on-nape’ policy. because of the sheer height difference, he’s constantly finding ways to tether you to him. whether you’re standing in line for coffee or walking through somewhere, his large, calloused hand is either resting firmly on the small of your back or his fingers are hooked into your back pocket, pulling you flush against his side. He likes the physical reminder that you’re right there.
;; boyfriend!ushijima uses his wealth in the most understated, attractive way possible. he doesn’t brag, but you’ll mention your favorite snacks are running low, and the next day, a box of twelve arrives at your door. he thinks it’s only logical to provide the best for you. If you’re tired and he can’t take you home, he’s already booked a car to pick you up so you don’t have to walk. he’ll look you dead in the eye and say, “you deserved the upgrade,” as if spending a small fortune on your comfort is as natural as breathing.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is a fan of you wearing his oversized clothes. he knows he’s massive, and he likes the way you look drowned in his clothing. he’ll purposefully leave his heaviest, most expensive cashmere sweaters at your place just so he can come over and find you wearing nothing but the knit and a pair of wool socks. he won’t say anything at first; he’ll just walk up behind you, bury his face in the crook of your neck, and inhale deeply, his large hands bracketing your waist.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is incredibly observant during quiet moments. while you’re reading or working, you’ll feel his gaze on you—heavy and intense. when you look up, he doesn’t look away. he just watches the way your lips move when you think or the way your shirt slips off your shoulder. “you’re very beautiful,” he’ll state plainly, his voice dropping an octave, “i find it difficult to focus on anything else when you're in the room.”
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a very specific ‘gym recovery’ routine that involves you. after a long training session, he’s needy in a way only you see. he’ll sit on the floor between your legs while you’re on the couch, letting you massage his shoulders. the heat radiating off his skin is intense, and he’ll tilt his head back to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded, silently demanding a kiss—or something more—as thanks for his hard work.
;; boyfriend!ushijima handles you like you’re the most precious thing he owns, yet he’s remarkably firm. he likes to pick you up—to reach things on high shelves, or just because he wants to feel your legs wrapped around his waist. there’s something about the way he can support your entire weight with just one arm while the other holds your face that makes your heart absolutely race.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is a literal furnace in bed. sleep with him means being tucked securely under his arm, his chest acting as your pillow. he’s a heavy sleeper, but the second you try to wiggle away in the morning, his grip tightens instinctively. he’ll mumble your name into your hair, his morning voice rasping and deep, pulling you back down until you’re pinned beneath his sheer mass. “stay,” he commands, and with the way he’s looking at you, you wouldn’t dream of leaving.
;; boyfriend!ushijima views your body with the same disciplined intensity he applies to volleyball—he studies you until he knows every curve, every sensitive patch of skin, and exactly which touch draws a specific sound from your throat. he isn’t loud about his desire, but it’s constant. you’ll be at a dinner party, surrounded by his wealthy associates, and he’ll keep his expression perfectly stoic while his hand slides under the table, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your inner thigh, inching upward just enough to make your breath hitch while he continues a conversation about athletics as if he isn’t undoing you.
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a thing for your neck. he’s a ‘marker.’ he’ll be behind you, his large hands sliding under your top to grip your hips, and he’ll pepper heavy, wet bites along the sensitive skin of your shoulder. he likes the visual proof that you belong to him, and he’ll linger on a spot until he’s satisfied with the color, his thumb tracing the bruise he just left while he watches your reaction in the mirror.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is obviously a fan of so-called claiming behaviors that border on obsessive. he finds it logical that because you are his, you should carry his scent and his marks. if you’re wearing a dress with an open back, you can expect him to spend the morning leaving a trail of biting kisses along your shoulder blades and the nape of your neck. he also likes the visual of his handprints lingering on your hips the next day; it’s a silent, physical receipt of how thoroughly he looked after you the night before.
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a side to him that only comes out when you’re alone in his penthouse. after a shower, he’ll walk out with nothing but a low-slung towel, the water still dripping down the deep V of his abdomen. he knows exactly what he’s doing when he corners you against the kitchen counter, leaning in so the heat from his damp skin rolls off him in waves. he’ll take your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back to expose your throat, and whisper, “i’ve been thinking about this since you arrived a while ago on the third set,” before his mouth finds yours with a hunger that is anything but ‘polite.’
;; boyfriend!ushijima finds your reactions to his wealth almost as endearing as your reactions to his touch. he’ll buy you silk lingerie that costs more than a car just because he ‘wondered how the fabric would feel against your skin’ under his hands. he’ll help you dress, his large fingers fumbling slightly with delicate clasps, but he’ll inevitably end up unzipping it halfway through because the sight of you in something he bought specifically to take off you is too much for even his legendary self-control to handle.
;; boyfriend!ushijima gets incredibly possessive when you wear his dress shirts. because he’s so broad, the fabric hangs off you, barely covering what it needs to. he’ll watch you walk across the room, his eyes tracking the way the hem rides up, and he’ll suddenly lose all interest in whatever he was doing. he’ll catch you by the wrist as you pass, pulling you onto his lap, his hands sliding underneath the fabric to find bare skin. “i think,” he’ll murmur against your neck, “that you look better without this.”
;; boyfriend!ushijima has zero stamina issues. he treats intimacy like a marathon, not a sprint. he’s methodical, patient, and incredibly thorough. he’ll keep you awake until the early hours of the morning, his body moving with a powerful, rhythmic precision that reminds you he’s a professional athlete. just when you think you’re finished, he’ll flip you over, his weight pressing you deep into the mattress, and whisper, “done? i’m nowhere near done with you yet, my love.”
;; boyfriend!ushijima aftercare is a masterclass in silent devotion. once he’s thoroughly exhausted you, he becomes a gentle giant. he’ll carry you to the bath, his arms never wavering despite the late hour, and wash you with a tenderness that feels almost sacred. he’ll wrap you in one of his oversized robes, tuck you into the high-thread-count sheets, and pull you flush against his chest. he likes it when you fall asleep while he’s still inside you, his hand resting heavy and protective over your heart, marking the rhythm of the only person who can make the great ushijima wakatoshi weak in the knees.
n: oh i’m FREAKED out 🙉🙉 just something to feed my babies while i rest for a bit.
; jealous husband!ushijima bends you over in the kitchen + aftercare :3
cw: p in v, breeding, established relationship, rough!ushijima, possessive!ushijima, size difference
your daughter participates in a trend where the photos show you when you were a teenager, then you now.
slideshow: you feeding ushijima grapes → you now, sucking on a lollipop, tongue peeking out.
comments:
“nah she’s giving throat demon, he doesn’t know what he has.”
“i’d pay her mortgage just to watch her lick me like that.”
“tell your dad to guard her, cuz i’d put a baby in her tonight.”
the slideshow ends, but the heat in the room is only just beginning to spike. ushijima’s face is a mask of stoic fury, a silent storm brewing behind those dark eyes as the comments continue to scroll—vile, hungry words from men who think they can touch what belongs to him.
“put a baby in you,” he repeats, the words tasting like poison. he doesn’t yell. ushijima wakatoshi doesn’t need to raise his voice to be terrifying. he simply sets his phone face down on the marble, the click of the glass echoing in the silent kitchen.
before you can even blink, his large, calloused hands are under your thighs, hoisting you onto the kitchen island. the cold stone is a sharp contrast to the sudden, overwhelming heat of his body pressing into yours. he doesn’t waste time with foreplay; his fingers hook into the lace of your panties and rip them to the side, exposing you, dripping and needy, to the harsh kitchen light.
then, he’s there. he guides his thick, heavy cock to your opening and thrusts forward, burying himself inside you in one brutal, singular motion. your breath hitches, a choked-back sob escaping as he stretches you to your absolute limit. his hands pin your thighs wide, knuckles white, forcing you to take every inch of him.
the thrusts are unhurried, agonizingly deep. he wants you to feel the weight of him, the sheer size of him claiming your insides. with every slow, deliberate shove, you can see your own stomach distort slightly, the crown of his cock hitting your cervix until your vision spots with white. you’re spilling down his length, your juices slicking his thighs, but he doesn’t let up.
the lollipop you’d been sucking on rolls onto the tile with a wet clack, forgotten and sticky, just like the mess you’re making on the counter. ushijima doesn’t even glance at it. his mouth latches onto the sensitive skin of your neck, his tongue hot and demanding before his teeth sink in, marking you. he’s branding you, leaving deep, purple bruises that will tell the world exactly who you belong to.
he pulls back just enough to stare into your blown-out pupils, his voice a gravelly, low vibration that rattles your bones.
“look at me,” he commands, his hips never stopping that rhythmic, soul-destroying grind. “they won’t ever touch you. they won’t even get close enough to breathe your air. you’re mine. i’ll fuck those comments right out of your head.”
you’re trembling, sobbing his name as your walls clench around him in desperate, violent aftershocks. you think he's done, but he’s just getting started.
“you think our daughter wants a sibling, my love?” he shifts his weight, flipping you over until your chest is pressed against the cool granite and your ass is hiked high in the air. he doesn’t wait for you to settle; he plows back into you from behind, the sound of his pelvis slapping against your rear echoing like a gunshot.
his broad hand presses down between your shoulder blades, pinning you to the counter as he ravages you. he’s relentless, bottoming out inside you over and over until you’re a sobbing, leaking mess. he fills you once, twice, three times—thick, hot ropes of cum pulsing deep into your womb, making your lower belly feel heavy and distended.
you whimper about the mess, the way his cream is already dripping down your thighs and onto the floor. he just grunts, a low satisfied sound. “good. when it takes, they’ll know exactly how well i bred you.”
∞ྀི
the intensity breaks as abruptly as it started. the territorial monster recedes, replaced by the steady, grounding presence of the man you married. he carries you to the bathroom first, his touch surprisingly light as he cleans the stickiness from your skin with a warm cloth. he’s silent, but he keeps his body pressed against yours, as if he still needs to feel the contact.
he carries you to bed like you weigh nothing, tucking you under the heavy duvet. he disappears for a moment, returning with a bowl of chilled grapes and sliced peaches.
he sits on the edge of the mattress, leaning over you. he picks up a slice of peach, pressing it to your swollen lips. “eat,” he whispers, his eyes softening just a fraction. he waits for you to swallow before leaning down to press a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead. his large hand slides under the covers, resting over your lower belly—right where he filled you. he rubs slow, soothing circles there, easing the ache he caused.
“i’m sorry if i was too rough,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing your hip bone. “i just… i can’t stand the thought of them talking about you like that. you’re too precious for their words.”
“so you decided to breed me?” you tease weakly.
his head lowers, a pout almost visible on his lips. “i apologize.. i wasn’t thinking clearly, my love.”
he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his massive arms around you until you’re completely encased in his warmth. he nuzzles into your hair, breathing you in.
“you.. you’re mine,” he whispers into the dark, his voice thick with a possessive, protective love. “no one else will ever have you. i’ll keep you safe. i'll keep you fed. and i’ll keep you so loved you’ll never have to doubt it for a second.”
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 𓂃 𝜗℘ ; the jjk men can’t resist your charm, even (especially) when you’re sound asleep when they come back home from a mission.
tags \\ content warnings. gojo satoru, fushiguro toji, ryomen sukuna x wife!reader (separate). smut. piv. pwp. (consented!) sōmnōphilia. separate warnings for each character down below :: mlist.
𝜗℘ GOJO SATORU :: cunnilingus. fingering. he’s a bit whiny. nicknames used ‘princess, sweets’. he cums untouched.
“mm, fuck. look at my sweet princess,” satoru sighs under his breath. he’s welcomed home by the sight of you sleeping peacefully on the bed, your hips a bit lifted as you rest on your stomach.
satoru’s voice is shaky as he mutters something to himself. he carefully sits on the edge of the bed, trembling fingers reaching out to trace the shape of your plump ass. he can’t not touch you—especially when you present yourself so nicely to him.
it isn’t long before his fingers dip under the material of your shorts. satoru gauges your reaction to his advances and notices the corners of your lips twitching. a small sign that you’re unconsciously feeling his warm touch.
“fuckfuckfuck. ‘m sorry, princess — i have to.”
satoru gives up any self-control that he had left. he doesn’t waste any time pulling down your shorts and panties to your knees. his already erect cock twitches in his pants at the beautiful scene; your pretty cunt in all its glory.
he clenches his fists, desperately trying not to do anything. that determination doesn’t last long, however.
in just a second, satoru’s already lapping up your natural slick, his hands firmly holding your hips still. his nails dig into your flesh and he moans once he feels your body instinctively pushing back against his mouth.
“mm, s’rry,” satoru whines in a muffled voice. he knows you’re awake by now—judging purely by the increase of your moans of pleasure. his tongue doesn’t stop moving between your spread folds, tasting you until your thighs are spasming.
you’re confused when you awaken to a tingly sensation between your legs, though you quickly put two and two together. you’re too lazy to comment on satoru’s sudden actions, only babbling a soft ‘welcome home’ between whimpers.
satoru’s breath hitches the moment you tell him those words. those sweet words. like you don’t mind that he’s dragged you out of your slumber this way. it’s such a turn on—your acceptance to what he’s doing.
“yeah? oh god,” satoru’s nose bumps against your slit each time he moves his jaw, lewdly slurping the fluid your pussy produces. he can feel his dick throbbing against his pants, begging to be released, “ngh, can’t—gonna cum, sweets.”
your husband’s desperate whines make your fingers curl around the bedsheets. the sole image of him cumming in his pants just from eating you out pushes you over the edge as well.
you reach your climax at the same time. satoru lolls his tongue out to catch your juices, moaning loudly against your puffy lips as he feels it trickling into his mouth. it’s then that he can feel a wet spot forming on the fabric of his boxers, “shit—mmgh.”
the white-haired man removes himself from behind you, licking his lips for any residue. you lazily look over your shoulder at him with hazy eyes. his big hands are already working on his belt and zipper.
satoru shows you the dark spot in his underwear and pouts, “ah, look what you’ve done to me, princess—made a mess out of my favourite boxers b’cause of you.”
𝜗℘ FUSHIGURO TOJI :: tiny hint of implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). unprotected. spooning position. reader gets called ‘girl, slut, whore’. degradation / objectification.
toji kicks his shoes off and makes a beeline towards his bedroom. he’s in a shitty mood after he meeting up with a rude client. despite that, his lips curl up into a faint smirk the moment he sees you laying on his bed.
“keheh, there’s my girl,” his voice is raspy, hoarse and utterly exhausted. the older man climbs under the covers and wraps his strong arms around your small figure. he nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing in the nice smell of your shampoo.
toji wouldn’t be him if his hands didn’t wander all over your skin. his rough palms squeeze everywhere and anywhere—enjoying the feeling of your soft flesh in them. you subconsciously react to his touches by pushing your body back against his.
“. .do not,” toji hisses like you can hear him. he was already half hard on his way home as thoughts of you clouded his mind, but now that he’s actually with you, he’s fully aroused. especially with your ass pushing back at his aching bulge.
he’s too lazy to get up and get himself off in the shower. thus, he starts off by humping the fat of your ass. the friction isn’t nearly enough, making him switch to the real thing.
“such a slutty fuckin’ thing. can’t keep my hands off ya,” toji groans into your ear, half hoping you’d hear all the dirty things he’s calling you. your pants are pulled down and your panties are pushed to the side—making way for his fat cock to drill into your pussy after prepping it for a bit with his fingers.
toji then adjusts your legs so he can have easier access to your tight cunt. the slow strokes inside you make you squirm and tighten up around his throbbing erection. that only riles toji up more.
“hah, you can feel it even in y’r sleep, can’t you? my cock stretching y’r tight pussy out—my pussy,” toji corrects himself with a low moan. his warm breath hits the nape of your neck, his hands fondling you whilst he thrusts aggressively.
he doesn’t care if you wake up or not. he’s going to use your delicious body to relieve himself. you gave him the green light when he asked you if he could fuck you in your sleep when he needs it. so, there’s no reason to stop now.
you eventually jolt awake after a couple thrusts. if it wasn’t for toji’s hand on your mouth, you’d have woken up the neighbours with your loud and lewd moans.
toji scoffs. he keeps a tight grip on your face and thigh, not stopping the rough pounding he’s giving you. he sees your eyes roll back from the unexpected pleasure and he snickers.
his lips connect with yours, muffling your moans that way;
“hah, seems like you needed this as much as i did—waking up ‘n already moaning like a whore. missed me that much, huh?”
𝜗℘ SUKUNA RYOMEN :: true form!sukuna. has two cocks woops. masturbation (m). turns into blowjob. hairpulling. reader gets called ‘brat’.
sukuna returns to his chambers. finally, after dealing with some sorcerers that’ve had challenged him for a battle. he’s tense, sweaty and obviously in need to blow off some steam. he knows just where to get said relief.
sukuna’s red eyes instantly spot your sleeping form on the middle of his kingsized bed. his favourite little human—resting without a care in the world. the innocent sight is one that sets his loins on fire.
“oi, brat,” the king of chrses speaks up as he sits on his side of the bed. the mattress dips to one side due to his huge form, causing your small body to automatically manoeuvre his way. you don’t seem to stir nor wake.
you’ve gotten used to sukuna’s demanding voice to the point that it doesn’t scare or make you stir anymore. he smacks his lips in frustration. guess he’ll take care of his problem himself for now.
low grunts fill the spacious room—sukuna’s head lolls back against the headboard whilst two of his hands move swiftly on his now exposed cocks. his sharp eyes are focused on your body, shamelessly checking you out. from the cleavage of your breasts, your clothed cunt to your perfect parted lips;
the entirety of you is turning him on.
“fuck, can’t believe this. .” sukuna curses under his breath. he can’t believe how weak he is for you. how his cocks throb and leak drops of pre-cum from just the sight of you sleeping. fully clothed at that.
whilst one set of his hands is busy touching himself, the other reaches out to grope your body. one hand on your chest and one on your ass. of course, sukuna doesn’t pass on the opportunity of smacking the soft flesh.
“i said get up,” sukuna clicks his tongue and tries to wake you again.
this time you do actually wake up. a short, inaudible whine leaves your lips. you take a few seconds to process the view in front of you; your husband with both his thick cocks out, pre-cum making the hard dicks glimmer under the light of the lamp.
it gets you horny and ready to go. immediately. you slowly crawl over between his legs, like you know just what to do. sukuna raises an eyebrow—surprised by your lack of questioning. he’s amused at how fast you took the hint.
“that’s it. y’re learning fast,” sukuna sighs deeply the moment your lips wrap around his upper dick. your small hand jerks off the lower one. both stimulations at once makes the man beneath you grunt in satisfaction.
you still are and look extremely drowsy, though your devotion to sukuna knows no bounds. even in your half-asleep state. the king of curses pats your head—a surprisingly appreciative and loving gesture that he rarely does.
you bob your head carefully, not wanting to gag too much. however, the pace you set is a tad slow for sukuna who’s waited way too long to fuck you.
he bucks his hips—thrusting upwards into your hot mouth. his strong hands yank at your hair, soft touch forgotten, keeping you in place as he hears your muffled whimpers of protest.
not that he cares; you choking on his fat cock only adds to his pleasure.
“keep it up like that. fuckkk, where do ya want me to cum? in y’r little mouth? yeahh, you’d like that huh, filthy woman.”
·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. true form!sukuna has a huge size kink (+ corruption kink) and he isn’t subtle about it with you.
tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference. p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, ‘shy’). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervíx fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? hint at ānal. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little' :: wc. 2.6k
sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .
. . after your innocence.
it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.
you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would—it’s like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.
sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off monster.
it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna keeps you around every day—as a form of entertainment, he calls it. one thing had led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.
why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him—it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.
sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.
it was usually boring and repetitive. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before—it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.
he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.
sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain —he did feel an almost unnoticeable twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had actually stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.
he had never done so before. never.
he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.
sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .
it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.
it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.
unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.
. . .
“hmh, you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks is inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body has learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.
sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already, his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seem so vulnerable underneath the big man.
“tsk. what a fragile little thing.”
it almost sounds condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there is a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips—staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.
“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out.
no matter how many times you take sukuna in, your smaller body can’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.
sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move is too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.
“i thought y’ said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”
you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots are being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one is twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.
sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your insides. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. it makes him grin wickedly.
“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, y’ see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.
he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but y’re making it very difficult for me.”
you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses.
sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.
“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears run down your cheeks from overstimulation. it feels so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you don’t want to displease him, so you utter those hopeless yet needy sentences again and again.
sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.
“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that are like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”
two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.
you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. he loves it.
“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter.
it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.
it gets your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you feel a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body is tired.
“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins.
he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully, because you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”
your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.
it’s all just for show.
“i’m not stopping. even if you scream,” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna is emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.
he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”
you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice shaking you to your core is not enough to make you change your mind. you’re so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he’s satisfied.
sukuna is completely amused.
he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.
“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you feel makes you snap back into reality. it’s then that you realise that you need more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks.
you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”
sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you believe that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.
you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.
“i’m sorry,” you apologise before he can say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.
it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.
it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.
“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though he pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”
he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you can’t take both at once. he hasn’t even prepped your other hole enough. besides, you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.
it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.
before you can mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.
you can feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.
“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone.
it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”
the tension in the room is palpable. your heart is stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.
“i-i’ll do anything, sir,” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.
it’s probably both.
“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.
a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face is mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you—especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.
“keheh. i’ll make ya regret saying that,” sukuna snickers. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he’s not going easy on you.
your submission has greatly impressed him and he's taking advantage of it. again.
what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.
or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.
Pink. Glittery. Pretty. Strawberry vanilla scented body wash. That's probably how Yuji would describe his girlfriend if someone asked him.
And do not save him, he's exactly where he wants to be. There is just something about having such a girly girlfriend when he's the exact opposite that gets him going.
"Babe have you seen my lipgloss? I can't find it anywhere!" He hears you shout from the bathroom, where you're getting ready for your dinner date with him.
"Which one?"
"The pinkish glittery one."
"Uhh probably in your bag babe."
"Found it, you're the best!"
He smiles, waiting for you to finish your last steps, excited to see the outfit you chose to surprise him with this time.
As on cue, you spray a bit (a ton) of vanilla scented perfum and finally- after what felt like hours to him- you walk out all ready to go. His breath stutters. His heart starts pounding in his chest. Clearly, he will never get used to your beauty.
Everything about the way you look is perfect in his eyes- the glowy makeup, the way you styled your hair, but the thing he likes the most is definetly your outfit.
The baby pink mini skirt, dangerously close to flashing him, with the matching flimsy top hugging you in all the right places. Of course you also chose the perfect heels and bag to go with everything.
Twirling to show your boyfriend your whole outfit you ask "Do you like it?" He takes a second to respond- eyes to busy scanning you from top to bottom like he was trying to carve the image in his brain.
"Like it babe? I think I just came in my pants, seriously." You giggle, his face showing a slightly pained look like he wasn't kidding. Walking closer to him, you wrap your hands around his neck, smling.
"You don't look that bad yourself baby." His cheeks flush a light red, now wrapping his arms around your waist. "I'm not joking you look absolutly gorgeous. Beautiful. Breathtaking. I shall worship the ground you walk on."
You're now full on giggling, him smiling at hearing his favourite sound come from you. Looking at the time after calming down you pout "We should go before we arrive too late."
"Don't I get a kiss before we go?" You playfully roll your eyes, already leaning in to give him a small peck. Looks like he had other plans as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, his hand now reaching down cupping your ass in his hand.
Gasping against his mouth, your hand pulling his hair you pull away. "Yuji! We really need to go now." You warn him but he doesn't seem to mind the scolding as he has an unapologetic smile on his face.
"Sorry babe, you were distracting me." Kissing you one last time, he grabs the keys, a hand steady on your back as you walked out. Not too long before walking you feel a sharp slap against your backside.
୨୧ THINKING ABOUT 💭
៸៸ modulo yuuji as your boyfriend . . .
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji is very physical without even realizing it. a hand on your lower back whenever he walks by, fingers brushing yours before holding your hand, as if testing the waters.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji will bite you. not hard, not out of anger, just purley out of affection. random, soft little nips, usually when you’re teasing him or getting a little too cute for his sake... same energy as pulling you closer or hiding his face in your neck! he just needs to do something with all that loving he has for you.
if you complain, yuuji will just laugh and say it was just a “baby bite”. but when you start frowning he immediately caves, thumb rubbing over the faint teeth marks, soft little apology murmured against your skin, pressing a quick kiss, batting his eyelashes up at you to earn your forgiveness.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji apologizes all the time. soft, repeated “sorry”s into your shoulder. mostly for things that aren’t even his fault… things you don’t fully understand, but comfort him nontheless.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji doesn't sleep very well, or very often. waking up in the middle of the night from vivid dreams of the past . . . but he relaxes everytime he wakes up to you by his side.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji whose a retired puppy at heart. he’s still soft at his core, just… a bit slower now. he gets weirdly proud over small achievements: “i fixed it!” “told you i could make it better!” and he looks at you like he’s waiting for that soft praise.
on top of that, yuuji isn’t fond of loud environments anymore. though he now refers quiet places, late night walks, soft music in the background . . . the small things that ease the soul.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji will get random bursts of energy out of nowhere. you could be eased up on the couch, and suddenly he’s trying to wrestle you or pulling you off. “c’mon, get up.” “for what yuyu???” “i dunno yet!”
yuuji also loves to pick you up randomly , showing off his strength — simply laughing his ass off as you beg him to put you back down.
୨୧ ៸៸ boyfriend yuuji whose still yuuji . . . just more yuuji than ever.
YANDERE DOTTORE (SOULMATE AU) Early stages of obsession.
Warnings: This story explores darker themes, including obsessive attachment, psychological control, and societal rejection of individuals without soulmate.
In the world of Teyvat, love is not chosen, it is revealed. At fifteen, every person receives a soulmate mark, a sign of perfect belonging. Those without one are not envied. They are avoided.
Unmarked individuals are believed to bring misfortune, instability, and quiet ruin to those around them. Society does not need to punish them. It simply stops acknowledging them.
At twenty-one, you are still unmarked.
And in a place where absence is treated like a disease, even survival becomes something conditional.
People talk like it’s something soft.
Like it’s something kind.
You sit behind your friend, Emma, fingers already moving before you really think about it—parting, smoothing, dividing her hair into three even strands. It’s easier when your hands are busy. Easier not to think.
“I didn’t even see his face at first,” Emma says, hugging her knees, smiling into nothing. “I just felt it. Like—like something clicked.”
“Same,” Anastasia, your other friend laughs quietly. “It was warm. Not scary at all.”
Warm.
Your fingers tighten slightly as you cross one strand over the other.
Left over middle. Right over middle.
“He knew my name,” Emma adds, softer now. “I never told him, but he said it like he’d been saying it forever.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to be, right?” Anastasia says. “Like you already belong to each other.”
Belong.
You pull the braid tighter.
Emma shifts. “Hey, gentler.”
“Sorry,” you say, but your hands don’t really listen.
They keep talking.
They always do.
About small things—how their hands brushed, how their marks appeared, how everything suddenly made sense. Their voices blur together after a while, soft and glowing and distant, like you’re listening from underwater.
You focus on the strands instead.
They don’t change. They don’t leave. They don’t fail to appear.
"What do you think?” you answer, flat, continuing the braid.
A pause follows. Not long—but long enough.
“Maybe it’s just late,” Emma offers quickly. “It happens sometimes, right?”
“Yeah,” Anastasia agrees. “Some people just take longer.”
Take longer.
Right.
Twenty-one years.
Your fingers slow for just a second, then continue, more precise now. Tighter. Controlled.
“Or maybe—” Emma starts, then stops.Silence presses in.
“Maybe nothing,” she corrects quickly, laughing it off. “Forget I said anything.”
You tie off the braid.
Too tight.
Emma winces, reaching up instinctively. “Ow—”
“Sorry,” you repeat.
This time, you let go immediately.
You watch the braid settle against her back, neat and perfect and finished.
Unlike you.
Everything means something.
Especially what you don’t have.
You’ve learned that the hard way.
At eighteen, your parents stopped pretending not to notice. No shouting. No arguments worth remembering. Just a quiet decision made behind closed doors, followed by a bag left by the entrance and a door that didn’t open again for you after that.
No soulmate meant misfortune.
And misfortune spreads.That’s what people believe here.
You just learned to live inside it.
The Snezhnayan market is already awake when you arrive.
Steam rises from food stalls, voices overlap in practiced rhythm, and wrists—always wrists—are visible without effort. Marks curl across skin in different shapes, some faint and delicate, others dark and intricate, like signatures written directly into the body.
No one hides them.
There’s no reason to.
You keep yours covered anyway.
It doesn’t matter.
People notice.
They just don’t always show it.
A glance that lingers too long. A pause in conversation. A small, careful adjustment in distance as you pass.
Not cruelty.
Not openly.
Just correction.
Like you’re something slightly out of place in a system that otherwise works perfectly.
You stop at a bread stall.
The vendor greets the person before you easily, smiles, exchanges words, hands over food without hesitation. His sleeve shifts as he moves, revealing a mark around his wrist—clean, matched, certain.
When it’s your turn, the change is subtle but immediate.
“What do you need?” he asks.
“Bread,” you say.
Simple. Normal.
His eyes flick down—not to your face, but to your hands.
You don’t move.
The silence stretches just long enough to feel wrong.
“…your wrist,” he says after a moment.
Not demanding. Just expected.
You hesitate, then pull your sleeve back slightly.
Blank skin.
No mark.
No shape.
No answer.
The air shifts.
It’s almost unnoticeable unless you’re the one standing inside it.
“I can’t sell it to you,” he says.
You frown. “Why not?” He doesn’t look uncomfortable.
Just final.
“It’s not worth the risk.”
“Risk of what?”
He stops for a second, as if he doesn't want to be the one to say it.
“…misfortune,” he answers, like the word has already been decided for him long before you asked.
Around you, the market continues—but not around you, exactly. Around everything else. You can feel it in the spacing of people, the way movement avoids your position without ever directly acknowledging it.
You exhale slowly. “It’s just bread.”
“That’s not how it works.”
And that’s the end of it. He won’t look at you again.
You leave without buying anything. There’s no argument that changes a system people believe in.
Your chest feels tight as you stand there—not pain exactly, but something unfamiliar threading under your skin, faint but persistent, like pressure without direction.
You press your fingers briefly against your wrist.
Nothing. Still nothing. But the feeling sharpens anyway. Not randomly. Not scattered. Directed.
"You’re being corrected faster than expected.” The voice comes from beside you.
Close enough that you don’t need to turn to recognize it.
He doesn’t look at the people around you.He doesn’t need to.
They already know he’s there.
The change is immediate.
Movement slows. Conversations break off mid-sentence. Someone lowers their gaze too quickly. Another takes a step back without meaning to.
Fear doesn’t spread.
It just exists.
Already complete.
"I wasn’t aware she was—” the vendor starts from behind you, voice tight.
Dottore doesn’t look at him yet.
He tilts his head slightly. “You were aware enough to refuse service.”
Silence follows. Not empty. Pressurized.
“I… didn’t think—” the vendor tries again.
“Ah,” Dottore interrupts calmly.
“That explains it.”
The words are light. Almost polite. But something in them closes the conversation entirely.
He finally glances at the stalll.
Just briefly.
Not interested. Just confirming.
“Give it to her.”
The instruction is quiet. Unremarkable in tone. But it lands like something undeniable.
The vendor moves immediately. Too quickly.
Hands shaking slightly as bread is wrapped and pushed forward, eyes never meeting yours.
No one argues.
No one even breathes too loudly.
You take it slowly.
Nothing stops you this time.
The pressure in your chest eases the moment you hold it.
Not gone.
Just… reduced.
Enough that your breath steadies without permission. You notice it immediately. So does he.
“Interesting,” Dottore murmurs, almost to himself.
His gaze shifts to you properly now—not sharp, not soft, just precise. Like you’re a result that continues to confirm itself.
“Social rejection is consistent,” he says. “As expected.”
Then.
“However, proximity alters response efficiency.”
You don’t answer.
You can’t tell what would even be correct to say.
He steps slightly closer, and the relief returns again, subtle but undeniable, threading through the tightness in your chest like it belongs there more than the discomfort does.
You hate that your body reacts before your thoughts do.
He notices anyway.
Of course he does.
“Dependency is forming,” he says simple.
You tighten your grip on the bread.
Around you, the market continues carefully, like nothing important is happening, but nothing approaches either. Space bends around him without effort. People exist just far enough away to avoid becoming part of this moment.
synopsis . Your boyfriend reaching the avatar state when he’s close. content . afab!reader, improper use of air bending, established relationship, dirty talk, missionary, pet names, he (nervously) talks you through it, praise, implied/slight breeding kink, etc.
author's note: i’d lick the sweat off his bald head if he let me.
You should’ve known something was up when the bedroom’s lanterns began to flicker.
But with the way Aang's hips snapped down against yours in such a relentlessly missionary rhythm—plump cock smothered deep within the juicily squelching walls of your pussy—it was hard to focus on anything else outside of the way he stretched you open.
HIs breaths came in searing pants against your neck, one gripping hand braced beside your head whilst his free one occupied itself with one of your thighs, tugging your leg impossibly higher around his waist just so that he could fuck you at that pinpointingly perfect angle.
"Ohhh, that's ittt, sweet girl. T-Taking me so well," Aang murmured as his eyes locked onto yours with shimmers of honest adoration visible all over them. "Keep squeezing me like that, mmgh. F-Feels good. So good." He thrusted even harder then, his breath flying out of him along with it as the wet slap of skin on skin emulated throughout the room.
His muscles tensed and his balls felt sorely heavy with each time they came plapping down against your sweat-slicked skin. The lanterns began to flicker again, brighter this time around as they cast shadows around the bedroom.
Then he leaned all the way down to smush his soft lips into yours, capturing your breath with in a messy kiss. His tongue came out to slide against yours as his firm body rocked into yours, the bed struggling to remain in place with his every move.
When his mouth left yours, he was dazed. This should've been the second signal for you. Especially as he let out a loud groan and went whispering, "Gonna breed this pretty cunt-," Instantly catching himself after and letting those soft grey eyes of his go all the more doe-like on you, "Shit... can I say that? I-Is that okay? Do you like it when I talk to you like tht?"
His hips picked up in pace, jaw going stiff as the balmy head of his cock smudged all sloppily against your cervix. Aang glanced down to see how he was disappearing into you, gasping at the obscene sight below him and then returning his eyes to yours.
"Tell me, baby. Please, talk to me. Tell me how you want me-, how you need me. I just wanna-, ohfuck—" Mid-sentence, his steady thrusts seem to derail and your cunt soaks around him to leave a sheeny layer of aroused slick all over his dick.
You're sucking him in deeper than he expected you to, and it catches him absolutely off guard. Which you notice rather quickly, batting your fucked-out eyes up at him, "Aang? Are you okay?"
"Yeah-, yes.. You just keep—" He hunches over against you—body going taut and lean muscles constricting against one another. "You keep squeezing me like that."
Begining to like seeing him struggle, "Squeezing like what?" you asked in sync with your walls clenching around the deft base of his cock.
Air puffs right out of him as if he'd been choked and his body shudders with something powerful coursing through him. You only catch it for a split second the first time it happens—a brief flash over both his markings and his eyes as his next array of groaning stammers out of him.
Following this is the flash of something wild in his eyes as they broaden, pupils dialating a fraction. Aang's head tips to the side and the plump crown of his cock slavers itself alllll around your insides, the puffy lips of your cunt left to quiver around him.
"You're so pretty-," Your loving boyfriend chuffs out, unknowingly thrusting into you harder via a burst of controlled air slapping against his backside. "H-Have I told you that? Hm?" He's asking as if he wasn't literally air bending himself into fucking you harder.
Your head just barely manages a nod, tears coating your lash line, "Nngh-, yes, Aang."
"Say it back to me then," Aang encourages. In between his breathy words, a brush of air is felt slithering against your cunt. It was almost as if his ability to seamlessly multitask was showcasing the best of his abilities via stimulating you everywhere. "Tell me how pretty my girl is, yeah?"
The sensation brings a stutter to your speech, "A-Aang, I can’t," you cry out, nails lightly scraping at his back.
He smiles halfway before his thrusting grows erratic and his jaw slacks some, "Oh. You're gushing-, shit."
You feel the way his tip pulsates inside you, his hips struggling to pull himself back for a moment long enough to give his cock a second to breathe—not that he much cared to do so anyway.
"So wet. Wanna see you cum-, wanna feel it." Aang husks, "Can you do that? Cum for me?"
"Mhmm," You nod weakly at first but within the next few seconds, as something begins to rumble distantly, you start to second guess your agreement. Mouth falling agape, “Wait, s’too much-,” you try to warn him.
He’s lost though—lost in the feel of your greedy insides begging his dick to spill enough seed into you to repopulate a nation or two at least. Aang’s unconscious manipulation of air only gets worse too, he goes from using his bending to fuck himself deeper to using it to sprawl your puffy pussy lips ‘n legs apart even wider.
You’re a stretched out mess in mere seconds, gasping his name and crying out in pleasure as your back begins arch. Then he’s chuckling all of a sudden and you swear for a moment he’s not even the same man you knew him to be.
Aang’s head cocks back some and his eyes roll back, “You can take it,” he grunts like he knows his words to be true and no argument could convince him otherwise. “You always do. Mmgh-,” He bites his lip for a second before looking down at you once more. “Can’t you feel that? The air helpin’ me fill you up? It’s-, hah.. It’s a little something I’ve been practicing.”
You pout at first, “Aang, I don’t know if-, mmgnh! Y-Your markings!”
The room illuminates with colors of spiritual blue before he notices what you’re talking about.
“What about them?” Aang asks cluelessly, his voice having changed due to the height of pleasure and energy surging through him.
Sweat drips down his body but it doesn’t even manage to touch you or the bed because he’s bending those droplets just as he was the air—completely losing himself in the feel of you and bending all sorts of shit because of it.
“They’re glowing,” You gasp.
Then his cock buries itself all the way in, every stiff inch clamped by your sappy insides, and his body comes to a sharp stop.
You knew there were… concerns when it came to having sex with your boyfriend who just so happens to be the avatar. But, no one told you he’d enter the avatar state just from cumming too hard!!
It’s while creamy gushes of cum are flooding into your poor cunt that his body is shuddering and he’s literally entering a new state of pleasure. He could hardly manage a word out or even move, the state had taken him over entirely.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little worried for him because of it, but honestly you were a tad bit distracted by how fucking hot it was.
You shouldn’t let this go to your head, really.
But who else can say their pussy sent their boyfriend into the avatar state?
That’s something to brag about!
(not proofread) banner from “Welcome to The Muscle Salon!” || tags:
｡𖦹°‧ Avatar!Aang who glows when he’s close because you just feel so good <3
The firelight danced across the walls of the hidden cave, casting long shadows that flickered like the restless spirits of the Spirit World. You and Aang had slipped away from the others hours ago, seeking a moment of peace after another grueling day of travel and training.
The Air Nomad’s glider staff leaned against the rock wall, his orange and yellow robes discarded in a careless heap beside yours. The air smelled of earth and the faint, clean scent of him—wind-swept and alive.
Aang hovered above you on a gentle cushion of air, his gray eyes glowing faintly with the soft light of the Avatar State, not from bending, but from something far more intimate.
His bare chest pressed against yours as he lowered himself, the smooth, warm skin of his toned body sliding along your curves. He was already hard, his cock heavy and flushed against your thigh, the head glistening with anticipation.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, voice husky, the playful monk gone and replaced by the man who had grown into his desires. His lips found your neck, kissing, sucking, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch into him.
One hand slid down your side, calloused fingers from years of staff training tracing the dip of your waist before cupping your ass, pulling you closer.
He shifted, the thick length of him pressing against your entrance, teasing, rubbing slow circles against your slick folds. You were soaked for him already, body aching from the way he’d spent the last twenty minutes with his mouth between your legs, tongue flicking over your clit until you’d come undone twice, moaning his name into the cave’s echoing walls.
“Aang… please,” you breathed, fingers threading through his arrow tattoos, feeling the raised ink under your palms.
He smiled against your skin, that boyish grin that still made your heart stutter even now. “I’ve got you.”
With one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you to the hilt. The stretch was perfect—thick, hot, filling you completely. A low groan escaped his throat as your walls clenched around him, velvet-tight and dripping. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged.
“Shi-shoot you’re so tight,” he murmured, hips rolling experimentally. The first few thrusts were slow, deep, savoring every inch as he dragged along your inner walls, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper. Aang obliged, picking up pace, the wet sounds of skin meeting skin filling the cave alongside your shared moans.
His hands braced on either side of your head, muscles flexing with every powerful snap of his hips. Sweat beaded on his skin, making the blue arrow on his forehead and the ones along his limbs gleam.
Every thrust pushed you higher, pleasure coiling tight in your belly. His cock dragged perfectly inside you, the head kissing your cervix with every deep plunge. You could feel him throbbing, growing even harder as he lost himself in you.
Then it started.
As his rhythm grew erratic, hips stuttering, a soft blue-white glow began to emanate from his skin. It started at the arrow tattoos—faint at first, like moonlight on water—then spread outward, lighting up the intricate patterns across his body. His eyes flickered, the gray turning luminous as the Avatar’s spiritual energy surged with his building orgasm.
“Oh—fuck,” Aang gasped, voice cracking with pleasure. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. His thrusts became harder, deeper, the glow intensifying with every snap of his hips.
The air around you hummed with gentle wind currents, small eddies of air swirling lazily around your joined bodies as his bending reacted instinctively to his heightened state.
You reached up, tracing the glowing arrows on his chest with trembling fingers. The light was warm, not hot—tingling against your skin like static from a storm. It made everything feel more intense, as if his spiritual energy was bleeding into you, heightening every sensation.
“Aang, you’re glowing,” you moaned, clenching around him deliberately, watching his eyes flutter shut in ecstasy.
“I—I can’t help it,” he panted, forehead dropping to your shoulder. The glow brightened, his entire body now radiating soft, ethereal light that bathed the cave in pale blue. “When I get close… it just happens. The energy… it builds up and—”
He cut himself off with a deep groan as you rolled your hips up to meet him, taking him even deeper. His cock twitched inside you, pulsing strongly, the glow flaring brighter. The air grew warmer, charged, tiny sparks of light dancing at the edges of your vision like fireflies.
You were close too, the sight of him like this—powerful, vulnerable, glowing with raw spiritual energy—pushing you toward the edge. Your nails dug into his back, right over the glowing arrow there, and he shuddered violently.
“Gonna… gonna cum,” he warned, voice strained and beautiful. His thrusts turned short and frantic, grinding against your clit with every movement. The glow was almost blinding now, concentrated brightest at the arrows and around his cock where your bodies joined, casting surreal shadows.
You came first, crying out his name as your orgasm crashed over you, walls fluttering and squeezing him rhythmically. The pressure was too much for him.
Aang’s whole body tensed, glowing brighter than ever. A low, guttural moan tore from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt one last time. His cock throbbed hard, pulsing as he spilled deep inside you, hot and thick.
The light exploded outward in a gentle wave, washing over you both in a rush of warm, tingling energy that made your aftershocks feel endless, like the Avatar’s spirit was sharing the pleasure with you.
He collapsed onto you, still glowing faintly, the light slowly dimming as his breathing evened out. The air currents settled. His lips found yours in a lazy, sated kiss, tongue sliding against yours with tender affection.
“Every time,” he chuckled breathlessly against your mouth, the last traces of blue-white light fading from his skin, leaving only the faint sheen of sweat. “You make me lose control like that… and the whole Avatar thing just… glows.”
You smiled, running your fingers down his arms, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against yours.
“I like it,” you whispered. “My glowing monk.”
Aang laughed softly, nuzzling into your neck as he stayed buried inside you, reluctant to pull out. The cave felt warmer, safer, wrapped in the afterglow of both your bodies and the faint spiritual light that still lingered in the air like a promise.
Dividers - @/cafekitsune
lwk inspired by this
an - Guys I literally cannot stop writing them, do ya’ll know how jealous I am knowing our girl katara got that every night 😩
— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: zhongli x fem!reader | 𝐜𝐰: established relationship but reader finds out his true identity! morax!form, draconic!form mention, human!reader, sex with a god, hair pulling, creampie, nipple play, rough sex, reader wears a nightgown, he calls you 'small in his hands', reader is implied to serve rex lapis, maybe ooc, 2.8k wc 18+ only, MDNI.
𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
This was completely different from the first time you shared beds with him.
Back then, Zhongli had been soft and gentle, undressing you with such tender care until nothing remained but bare skin and bones. You remembered his warm amber eyes, his featherlight touches, and how he gave so much of himself to you that it left you dizzy and breathless.
But this was something else entirely.
It wasn’t that long ago when, to you, he was just a consultant at the Funeral Parlour—a Liyue nobleman who was well-versed in Teyvat’s history. He had been courting you since the last Lantern Rite (perhaps longer if you had paid attention) and you were more than content with the consultant, admiring him just as he was.
Then, after retiring his gnosis—and you still struggled to fully grasp what that meant—he finally confessed.
Overnight, he went from a funeral consultant to Rex Lapis and no matter how many times he explained that he was technically no longer an Archon, it didn’t change the fact that he was still an immortal who had witnessed Liyue from infancy.
And you slept with him!
The memory sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t deny the thrill of realising how the Lord of Rock had practically begged for you to get on top that night. That same feeling returned now as you prepared to sleep with him again.
You basically asked for it, though.
When he revealed his identity to you, you had some questions. The first was if he had a real form, to which he replied: I have many.
Then the second question—or rather, request—was to see one of these forms. He was happy to oblige, but you hadn’t expected him to be so… forward.
I’m not being forward, he defended himself, My skin is part of my form. It just so happens that I have to adjust my attire for you to see it properly.
But he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Zhongli—” His name now felt strange on your lips as you stared, spellbound by his new appearance. You were so captivated that anything could have rolled off your tongue and you wouldn’t have noticed… or cared.
He truly embodied every depiction of Rex Lapis you’ve ever seen.
“Is something the matter?” He asked as if his arms weren’t adorned in glowing geo patterns, as if his physique wasn’t carefully carved by millennia as a leader. He stood over you while you sat on the edge of your bed and you gulped at the vitality in his features.
He looked larger—more youthful, even.
“What do I—” You hesitated, wondering if your question was foolish. “What do I call you?”
He cupped your jaw the way he always did, though now with bare hands darkened by power that you could barely comprehend. “You can choose whichever name you like,” he replied. “It doesn’t change who I am to you.”
Your mouth went dry. It was frightening how much more irresistible he seemed like this.
“Morax,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.
His brows lifted slightly, but he stayed silent.
“Morax,” you repeated, louder this time. You knew calling him ‘Rex Lapis’ would have been more respectful, more appropriate, but after seeing him in this divine form, with barely a towel wrapped around his waist, you knew that respect had already been thrown out the window. You would ask to be forgiven but what difference would it make if the god you pleaded to stood right before you, looking so compromised?
“Interesting choice,” he chuckled as he pressed his thumb to your lips, “Now, lie still and let me enjoy what belongs to me.”
Those words sank in like branding on your skin—what belongs to me.
He was slow with you at first, hovering over you as you lay back. The silk of your nightgown clung to every curve of your body which left little to the imagination and Zhongli was so engrossed with his view, that the lust in his eyes made something inside you stir. You had to look away, your arms instinctively moving to shield your flushed expression.
After all, it wasn’t every day that you found yourself at the mercy of a man so many prayed to.
Gently, he pulled your arm away, “Why do you turn from me, my love?” He tilted his head, studying you like prey, but the tenderness in his voice reminded you that the ghost of your sweet Zhongli was still there, lingering beneath this form.
“Are you regretting your curiosity?”
“I guess… seeing you this way makes me a little… shy,” you said, though you didn’t believe your own answer.
Before you could say more, his mouth was on yours, fierce and reassuring. It took the air right out of your lungs. You barely had time to recover before he started trailing softer kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake.
“Shy?” he repeated against your skin, “After all we’ve done, you’re still shy?” He slid his hand up your sides, tangling his fingers between the fine silk. “You may be skilled at keeping secrets but not from me. Tell me the truth, my sweet.”
You opened your mouth to respond but you couldn’t stop your back from arching at his touch, which was very much an invitation for him to tear off the delicate fabric from your body. When he did, it left your chest exposed to his hungry gaze, earning him a small gasp and a deep ache pooling between your legs.
“You’re so small in my hands,” he mused, fingers tightening around your throat for a brief moment. "And yet… you offer yourself so willingly."
You had offered yourself to a god.
You had offered yourself to a god.
“Do you understand what you’re doing?”
A shudder tore through you as he took both breasts into his hands and sank his teeth between them, leaving you with little marks made from canines you had never seen before. When you suddenly felt his hard bulge pressing against your core, you realised the towel around his waist had already been discarded. How could you even respond to him?
“This excites you, doesn’t it?” He murmured into the crook of your neck, grinding against you. He didn’t give you a chance to speak when he pried your legs open with one knee. “Have I ever told you how intoxicating you smell when you’re like this?”
Harder than before, he bit into your neck and you found your fingers tugging on his hair.
“You can… smell me—?”
“I can sense you,” he corrected, “And I know exactly what you want from me." You could certainly tell he was pleased with himself yet instead of pushing you away, it only drew you in further.
With a single motion, you hooked your finger around the pin holding his ponytail in place, and pulled—freeing his hair so it cascaded down over his toned muscles.
He looked perfect. Divine. It was your way of confirming what he already knew—that you wanted this, wanted him.
Zhongli’s eyes glowed in the dim light and there was no mistaking the godly aura of Morax residing in him. The air seemed heavier under the weight of his presence. You were suffocating.
A deep growl elicited from his chest as he pushed the tip of his cock against your underwear, teasing your entrance. You whimpered at the way he bullied you, desperately pulling him in for another feverish kiss to satisfy at least one need.
This one was hungrier, messier. His groan vibrated through your mouth as his carbon-black hand slid back to your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air.
Each twist and flick of his tongue felt like a silent demand: Give in. Yield.
In this state, a picture cleared. Zhongli's hands were everywhere—tangled in your hair, between the valley of your breasts, dipping into the areas you ached the most. This side of him was primal, gluttonous, and possessive. Every touch felt forbidden—blasphemous, even. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say you weren’t enjoying every sinful second of it.
Finally, Zhongli parted from the kiss, his breath heavy as his eyes stayed locked with yours. For once, he allowed himself to make you completely at his will.
The head of his cock pressed harder against your entrance, the flimsy barrier of your silk underwear doing little to dull the intensity of his lust. He was desperate to feel the warmth inside you. You were already soaked, and he knew it—he could feel it, smell it, and it drove him wild.
“My dear,” he said, sound impatient now, “you know I admire you, right?”
“I do,” you replied too quickly.
“Good. Because I don’t want you to be mistaken.”
“What do you mea—”
Before you could finish, he pulled your underwear to the side and let his cock glide against your folds. Your hips moved with him, coating his shaft with your wetness, and that was enough for him to forget about taking it slow. Groaning, he shoved his blunt tip inside you and it left your thighs trembling. Your body felt like it was on fire, jerking back as his length stretched you out, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly, “Oh my—” you gasped.
Had it been that long since you last did this, or was this form accompanied by godly… benefits?
With his head thrown back in sheer pleasure, he let out a throaty grunt, almost salivating at the way your walls pulsed around him—like your body had been made just for him. Somehow, sex felt even better in this form and it had him feral enough to hold the sides of your hips, fingers digging into your flesh to anchor himself between your legs. “That’s it,” he growled, “Take every inch.”
He started thrusting—hard—the sound of skin meeting skin echoed off the walls. Your breasts bounced in rhythm, and he was so entranced by the sight he could cum on the spot. Every second, he was ripping moan after moan out of you as he fucked you into the mattress.
“Morax,” you called out, your voice shaking while he pumped in and out of you relentlessly, “So… good. I want more…” You ran your hands across his chest, feeling the quickening of his breath. His face shifted into a predatory look and you realised that he was losing himself as much as you.
“Then come here,” he groaned through gritted teeth, spoken exactly like someone who had never been defiled.
He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead, he flipped you to your stomach, left your ass in the air and your legs hanging off the bed—your toes barely even touching the floor.
You braced yourself for his unyielding pace, but he surprised you with a tender kiss on your shoulder, “Tell me if it’s too much.”
The unexpected affection made your heart swell so you wiggled against his crotch, inviting him for more. He chuckled, almost pityingly, knowing full well what he was about to do next.
You couldn’t even catch your breath before he pushed back inside you, hissing as he indulged in your warmth. You swore you were well-behaved but somehow this felt like a punishment. He, who was so deceptively gentle a moment ago, found your hair and tugged it into his fist, drawing a sharp yelp from your lips.
Once he started moving at the same unforgivable pace, each thrust forced his name out of your mouth. “M-Morax— Mor–ax,” you were barely coherent and it riled him up the more you said it. It surely wasn’t the first time hearing someone call him that but in this context, he wasn’t going to make it his last—especially if it was you.
"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice resonant, like the rumbling of the earth itself.
“Y-Yes…”
Although, you weren’t sure what you expected when you asked to see his form but you knew what you were receiving now was the primal strength of something foreign to you.
His heavy cock stretched you so deliciously, filling you so completely that every nerve in your body screamed with pleasure. You clawed at the sheets as you creamed rings around his base and the wooden bedframe groaned with each erratic thrust.
His movements were undeniably getting sloppier and his breaths came in short, guttural huffs. “Feel- how- deep I am inside- you?” he rasped, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. “You’re taking it so well.” You couldn’t see it but you heard a grin dancing behind his voice as he pushed deeper.
Your feet were lifting off the ground with each thrust, leaving your ass stinging from the relentless pounding. When you felt his free hand snake around to cup your breast, fingers squeezing your sensitive nipple, you practically melted. “Thank you… Ple—,” you whined, the only words you could really manage.
But that was enough for him.
Zhongli’s grip on your hair tightened as he pulled, forcing your head back while his other hand dug into the soft flesh of your breast. The pain mixed with pleasure sent your vision into a blur of white. It shouldn’t feel this good but you could feel your orgasm coming despite being nothing but a ragdoll in his powerful hands.
His body trembled as he chased his release, each thrust growing more urgent as he drove into your G-spot. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body until finally, your climax hit like a tidal wave. Letting go of your hair, you collapsed against the mattress. It was too much so it left you biting into the sheets, a cry ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with each spasm. “I-I’m—ahhh—cumming!”
“Just like that,” he groaned while your body tightened, savouring the way your body responded to every thrust. He was unable to think about anything else aside from the feeling of your muscle clenching and pulsating, “So tight—keep going. You’re perfect like this.”
With one final snap of his hips, you felt him pulse between your walls, his balls tightening as he emptied deep inside you. Thick ropes of hot milky cum filled you, his cock twitching as he buried himself to the hilt. Your name rolled off his lips in a low, drawn-out grunt that was raw and animalistic, a sound that made you delirious enough to go another round just to hear it again.
Even after he finished, he stayed pressed against you, fucking his cum back into you with lazy, satisfied strokes, filling you over and over until there was nothing left to give.
“I’m… full,” you whispered shakily, still feeling every inch of him inside you.
“Are you alright, my dear?”
Yes and no. If getting tossed around meant you were fine, then sure.
"I'm okay," you breathed.
"Good girl."
When he finally pulled out, you went completely limp, rolling onto your back while a thin layer of sweat left your skin glowing.
You could feel Zhongli doing the same, his body mirroring yours as you both lay there, chests heaving, struggling to catch your breaths. After a moment, you turned to face him, both of you blinking at each other under the light.
“This… wasn’t what I meant when I said show me one of your forms,” you managed to say.
“Are you complaining?”
You let out a soft sigh as you stared up at the ceiling. Even after all this, he hadn’t lost his sarcastic sense of humour. “No,” you admitted, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks. “It’s just that… well, I think I might’ve enjoyed you—the real you—a little more than I expected. A little more than what’s appropriate, perhaps.”
You couldn’t help but dance around the memory of all the offerings you’d given Rex Lapis throughout your life. Was this his gift in return?
“Oh? Pray tell, what is it that you enjoyed so much?”
You hesitated but the way he looked at you made it impossible not to answer.
“I liked… the way you moved…" you felt slightly embarrassed to continue but he nodded for you to go on, "You were rougher on me, but it made me want more…”
While you spoke, you noticed subtle changes in him. His pupils began narrowing into thin slits, and his golden irises seemed to glow with an ethereal light. The sharpness of his fangs became more pronounced, peeking between his lips. His fingers, which had been tracing circles on your arm, now felt a little sharper, almost claw-like.
“And… your strength,” you gulped as you watched his transformation. “It was… overwhelming. I couldn’t resist it but I didn't want to. I felt safe.”
A low, rumbling growl emanated from his chest, his hand sliding possessively to your waist. It made your stomach flip.
“If that’s the case,” his voice was deeper now, almost a purr as his newly revealed tail coiled around your thigh. He leaned closer, his breath hot against the shell of your ear.
