when he walks, it demands attention. every step filling up the sound, the area, the density around you so you know that he’s coming.
it’s even in the slight shake of the little trinkets adorning your coffee table as he drops in the couch, his heavy arms on either side of the long couch back.
or how small everything looked in his hands, how loud it was when he set something down even if it was meant to be light.
how harsh a slap to your ass felt every time you walked past him.
or when his big hands engulfed your waist no matter what you did.
how his body covered yours if you were even washing the dishes, grabbing your keys, beneath, over, under him and even in the shower.
even his fucking shadow dominated yours.
he was just big. and you loved it.
you loved every aspect of it, when he would be fucking so deep, the low drag of his dick pulling out from inside you till just his tip remained and he slammed back inside of you.
it was mesmerizing how heavy he was everywhere. how he didn’t need to do much barely lifting a finger or flexing a muscle to move you in any position he wanted.
but it was perfect watching him in missionary his long, bulky figure sweaty above you, his arms anchored at the sides of your head.
steady for him and a reminder for you of how fucking strong he was. how he could hold you in a armlock and fuck you how he wanted.
or he could bend you over anywhere, anyhow and take you cause you were his.
you’d imagine that’s your favorite position anything that demonstrated his otherworldly strength. the slight cut off of your airflow turning your moans get lighter and breathy while he fucked you on his lap.
or maybe a full nelson, feeling the stretch of your legs as sukuna forced you past what you thought your limit was, feeling the burn as he huffed only focusing on cumming and not the desperate squirm of your body with the new found angle.
but no.
your favorite position was missionary, missionary since you can wrap your legs around the sturdy expanse of his waist as he pressed back inside of you.
your arms could wrap, and scratch around his back and pull his large frame over to give you another kiss.
but your favorite part was when you’d press your hand firmly in the middle of his large back, catching him off guard and pressing all 280 pounds of muscle in top of you until you felt your chest constrict.
some might assume you’re a masochist, torturing yourself like this, feeling your body fight underneath your boyfriends as you chased your orgasm.
or maybe feeling the dark tingle in your lower abdomen as he nipped at your neck, eyes slightly wider than usual watching you heave below him but not wanting to stop.
and how hard it was you came when he finally accepted his fate and lessened the weight in his arms to lie fully on you, hearing the breathless gasp escape out your mouth while you scratch and cum helplessly under him.
but even regular life wasn’t much better.
sukuna could chalk it up to a kink, a sick desire you had or a underlying urge to be close to him.
but he couldn’t understand this.
on the train you’d always push to get on the crowded one, even with another a few minutes begin.
insisting that you stood at the door and he covered you, and every single time without fail he crushes you.
his hard body swinging from the influx of people or the harsh curve of the train, pressing you further and further to the door. and it’s not like you would move away, or that you could.
but he would observe your gleaming eyes, the tight hold you’d have on his dress shirt and the bite of your lips as you finally took a deep shaky breath when he would finally get to back an inch away.
though he was also concerned when it was time to sleep.
“c’monnnn kuna” you’d whine spread like a starfish out on your bed while he you watched your shirtless boyfriend at the end of the bed.
whose arms were folded, his eyebrows scrunched as he watched you almost scared.
“this is concerning even for you.”
“please baby, i’m always on top of you anyways.”
“no.”
“no?”
“no.”
yet and still he found himself, not even ten minutes later, laid out on top of you his heavy chest crushing yours again as you hummed underneath him pleased.
“there is no way you’re comfortable under there”, his muffled voice answered as you basically purred, rubbing his back.
“very.”
“and no way you can breathe.”
“gotten used to it.”
you’re unreal. but still he couldn’t be too bothered watching your light breathes when he turned with his bed head and see the small smile splayed out in your face.
and you?
this wouldn’t the last time you’d want sukuna’s full weight.
“Rappers only talk about their money, cars, and clothes!”
Why might someone from a group of people that historically have been denied access to wealth, now brag that they have it?
“Rappers only talk about sex!”
Why might someone from a group that have historically been denied sexual autonomy now brag about their sexual escapades on their own terms?
“Rappers only talk about drugs and crime!”
Why might someone from a group that historically have been denied the more legal means to acquire wealth and had drugs forced on their community talk about their experiences with it?
Harvey who's way too focused on his job, delivering your baby and holding her in his arms afterwards. "It's a girl !" he'd say brightly, then looks down and his face turns into pure panic as he remembers that's his daughter
ryomen sukuna who is smitten with sweet, slightly clueless reader
ryomen sukuna was off limits.
all the cheerleaders knew it. all his fellow jocks knew it. hell even the younger female professors, who couldn't help but stare at him , knew it.
he is built like a greek god and acts like a retired sergeant. no one can tear their gaze off him when he is on the field , and yet no one truly dares to approach him when he is off the field either.
he has a nasty personality that doesn't shy away from saying "fuck off " right on the face of even the prettiest cheerleader—hence shattering her confidence completely. rumours even suggested that said girl never dared confess to anyone ever again.
you were just a happy go lucky.
sweet dresses, pretty jewellery, neat hair. you were just a girl with a sweet, slightly clueless personality. everyone's friend and enemy of none and so on and so forth.
you had your own circle of close people—even though one could count them on the phalanges of a single digit.
a different world from the one in which the formidable campus king ruled.
hell, no one could have ever suspected in a million years that ryomen sukuna would cross paths with you. or that he would , quite literally, trip over himself while he watched you feed a stray kitten.
who would have known that his eyes would track your easy smiles and register your presence in every room you entered.
and that he would carry you out of a frat party, drunken and smiling and giggling into his chest, all the while safely nestled in his arms, as if you had him wrapped around your little fingers.
in all honesty, you did.
the ryomen sukuna was in love
with you .
you, who wished on airplanes and made it a regular habit of quizzing him about the various shapes he could decipher from the clouds above.
you , to whom laughs came easily. you who was happy with giving away your meals to stray animals.
no one expected the formidable captain would be so besotted with a girl .
ryomen who never gave any woman the time of his day , would become so enamored by you that he wouldn't be able to tear his gaze off of you.
the students would gape openly when they saw him waiting for you outside your class, walking with you to your next class.
or the bomb—gently tucking your hair behind your ear.
ryomen sukuna did not do soft or sweet.
but he did... apparently. for you. with you.
ryomen sukuna didn't let random girls kiss his cheek. but you weren't a random girl. you were his girl.
so his teammates stared slack jawed at the light lipstick stained kiss on his cheek—averting their gazes before they could be faced with his wrath for staring too long.
ryomen sukuna didn't carry other girls baggage for them. so why were his arms full of art supplies and projects even though his major had absolutely nothing to do with it?
it was called being smitten, ofcourse .
with you.
who , for ryomen, hung the stars and moon in his sky.
The first time you fuck Satoru real good, he rolls over after and buries his face between your breasts, head still light and spinning in his post-orgasmic haze. He mumbles something nearly unintelligible into your skin that sounds a lot like, "Love you, mommy."
His cheeks burn as the realization of what's just slipped from his mouth sobers him up, getting ready to deny, deny, deny. He buries deeper into your chest, embarrassment flooding his veins. You're going to make fun of him, he's sure of it.
Instead, you tuck your chin to your chest and press a kiss to the top of his head.
"Love you, too, Toru," you whisper softly.
He risks a glance up up at you to find you already gazing at him, hearts in your eyes. His blush deepens as he looks away, your immediate acceptance heating him from the inside out. He lets himself settle back into the comfort of your body, baby blues slipping shut as he places kisses to your sternum.
sorry i'm still angry about this but if your excuse for not caring about female characters is because you're not sexually attracted to them you are exactly 0 degrees of rhetorical separation from a redditor whining about how his favourite video game is now "too woke" because the women don't show enough skin
people on here make ocs and they're mostly men and they ship characters and they're always men and they have favourite characters and they're always men but sometimes they say the men are like women not trans ones though because that would be guh-ross and harsh the vibe of the #fandomspace and they write fanfiction about men and talk about how complicated and #deeplywritten their male favs are and they'll watch movies and tv shows with mostly male casts in every way that matters and not question it because well what do you want them to do about it and they don't even care that that's what they're doing to them it's pure coincidence they always like the male characters better it's pure chance that women are only interesting as yaoi cheerleaders and actually when they write female characters as yaoi cheerleaders they're doing them a favour because they were just so poorly written in the source material it's the charitable thing to do men men men men men men men and if you say anything about it well you're being a killjoy you're being no fun you're being homophobic you're being a misandrist god what is it about women right what is it about women always trying to ruin our fun? why do they care so much? they're just women. who wants to think about women at all.
Empress!reader with all the riches she could ever wish for, with all the luxuries, with all the suitors. One after the other; they attempt to woo you with their gifts and their titles—but you don’t want a single one. Empress!reader who has eyes only for her handsome advisor, Nanami Kento, and his gentlemanly ways and his soft bIush whenever you put your moves on him. Because of course you’re joking, right? Empress!reader who finds that for however smart her dear advisor is - he’s remarkably oblivious. And he won’t know you have an interest in him until you gather your court and publicly declare him as your #1 suitor.
men who worship. men who obsess. men who admire and love. men who are whipped. men who would drop to their knees for you. men who would do anything for you. men who are needy and clingy. men who spoil and pamper you. men who love.
