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floreshouse · 2 years

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Something to Tinker With ; part one

Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Reader (SFW)

Series Synopsis: The day you returned to Piltover with Ekko’s damaged hoverboard, you didn't expect to cross paths with a certain scientist who, unbeknownst to you, had his eyes on you since day one.

Important Context:

There will be eventual NSFW.

The story takes place a couple of months after Act One. Jinx would still be 11 and Hextech wouldnt yet be developed to its full capacity.

Warnings: pining, awkward situation, reader has a strained relationship w/ her dad, jayce being a doofus

Word Count: 2.3k

The pitter-patter of the rain made you more anxious about the time. Professor Heimerdinger was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, and you were starting to worry about his whereabouts.

Today had been a long day, with visiting Ekko and passing by an ugly incident between the enforcers and a couple of drunk men just as you were leaving the Undercity.

You emerged into Piltover with a smashed hoverboard in hand and a promise of finding someone to fix it as you headed for Heimerdinger’s office like you did every Thursday at five.

But now it was 5:32, the clock was ticking, and there was still no sign of the professor. You had nearly fallen on your face while sprinting all the way to his office due to your new shoes and their stupid shoelaces that didn't seem to understand that a knot was meant to remain tied; all this for nothing since he was not here, and, had you know this, you would have taken your sweet time while enjoying the view of the academy grounds.

Posted footsteps echoed behind the door, and a well-known high-pitched voice emerged from the hallway, seemingly in a vivid conversation. The door flew open and in walked the professor, who happened to be accompanied by who you thought must have been a student.

“Yes, my boy, this is a great opportunity to expand your areas of knowledge” The door closed behind them, and only then you noticed the cane that was supporting the guy’s body. “Here I hold many inventions and I would be happy to give you a challenge. What type of machine would you be interested in?”

Viktor was about to answer him when he noticed they were not the only ones in the room. Heimerdinger raised a confused brow at the lack of an answer and turned around, meeting your gaze. His face morphed from confusion to surprise and realization.

“Miss Y/N! I apologize greatly, I seemed to have gotten carried away with Viktor here.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as you shook your head in embarrassment.

“Don't worry about it, professor.” Your eyes met the young man who shied away from your stare, leaning on his cane uncomfortably. “Time flies here in your office.”

Heimerdinger turned towards Viktor, whose expression was hard to read, or at least to you since the professor chuckled as he looked between both of you with a knowing look.

“Viktor I would like to present you to Miss Y/N. She studies in the literature department of the school” You waved at him shyly and he returned the gesture. “Y/N was born in the Undercity just like you; she is my informant and one of the brightest minds in the academy, I'm sure you guys would enjoy each other’s company.”

Your gaze shifted toward your feet, unused to the praise you were receiving at the moment. Your hands squeezed what was left of Ekko’s hoverboard as Viktor’s stare pierced your soul.

“Viktor is here in search of a device to tinker with” The professor explained “He’s a great inventor and is working along with Mr. Talis on a personal project that I believe will change the world.”

Your eyes brightened in recognition having known Jayce from a project not so long ago. You shifted your gaze towards Viktor once again, though he seemed more interested in the device you were holding in your lap; it was hard to ignore it due to its design and it being nearly the size of a small shelf.

You spoke before he could even ask.

“It's a prototype of a hoverboard. The kid I babysit crashed it and I promised to get it fixed” You smiled at the memory of little Ekko’s anger towards himself for letting it get broken; he had been building it with one of his friends for so long and this was the first one that actually worked but, just like that, in a couple of minutes, it was gone. “Is this something you would be interested in tinkering with?”

Viktor made his way towards you, muttering a quiet ‘May I hold it?’ and you realized it was the first time you had heard him talk. His accent was rich and alluring, and you longed to be able to listen to it again.

You nodded, shifting in your seat as he crouched slightly. A weight was lifted from your thighs as Viktor clumsily sat next to you on the small couch, grabbing Ekko’s invention. His eyes assessed it meticulously; the object glowed in a bright green and you learned the bad way that if you touched it in the wrong places, the electricity would zap you.

“How exactly did this kid crash it?” He held it up against the light coming from the window. A small piece shattered due to the movements, and the remaining objects fell on his lap, along with a big golden screw that caught his attention. “It looks new, but I believe it must have been quite the accident for it to end up this way.”

You chuckled under your breath explaining that it was indeed, quite the crash. Viktor shifted in his seat, making the screw roll towards his inner thigh, about to fall between his legs. You watched as if it was in slow motion, and before you could think about how inappropriate this action might seem, your hand landed on his crotch, holding the screw.

Before he could even process the movement, you held the object towards him, looking anywhere but his face. He grabbed it hesitantly, eyes wide, but after a few seconds he seemed to register the touch and his cheeks were covered in a cloud of pink dust. Your eyes finally landed on Professor Heimerdinger, terrified of the prospect of him having seen the awkward interaction. Still, relief filled your body when you turned and he seemed more preoccupied with chuckling at his Poro, who had managed to fall face-first on a stack of papers waiting to get graded.

An overwhelming feeling hit you right in the chest, clawing at your throat and begging you to please leave the embarrassing situation.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Viktor.” Heimerdinger looked up to see you were already standing up, flattening the wrinkles on your skirt “I'm very sorry, Professor, but I have to leave soon if I don't want to be late for work; today we had the inauguration of a new drink and I believe the café is hectic according to my boss”

“Oh yes, Miss Y/N, duty calls.” The Yordle smiled understandingly “Perhaps tomorrow I might stop by to discuss some trivial matters. I would also like to try that Pumpkin drink you've been offering since last week.”

You chuckled nervously as you headed towards the door, not without petting the small Poro that hovered around your feet. You had always thought he was a risk of tripping but never said anything for Heimerdinger’s sake.

You spared a glance towards Viktor, who was still sitting on the couch, the hoverboard no longer resting in his hands, but on his lap, and the golden screw being flicked between his nimble fingers. “I hope you find enough of a challenge with this… Invention, Viktor”

His lips quirked in a lopsided smile. “I'm sure I will, Miss Y/N.”

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

“I mean- Everything would be okay if Bonnard had the balls to apologize to Fi. She would have forgiven him! But he just had to be a hissy-pissy man.” Koa, bless his soul, had been droning on and on about the fighting match that his neighbors next door had been having the night before.

Ever since you had met him, you reveled in his ability to talk shit while making the most intricate drinks in the house with no mistakes.

You had tried that once; talking while making a Cocado-Crisp Frappuccino, and it ended up with two failed attempts and an angry customer.

You put your apron on and looked around to see the café twice as full as you had expected; your manager, Sao, had told you that it had been this way since morning and that they had to order an emergency delivery since they had been running out of product.

You knew for a fact that this place had always been one to be hectic; you had many regulars who came daily for their fill, along with the classic coffee addicts that stopped by and ended up staying the whole day; having a twenty-four-hour library café was a dream place for students in the Academy, and it just happened to be stationed right in the campus.

Today, though, there was a monumental amount of people coming in and out; the line was so big that if you looked at the establishment from the outside, you would be able to see people on the sidewalk waiting for their turn.

“But anyway, what can you expect from a guy who is only living off of daddy’s money.” Koa rolled his eyes as he scribbled a name on the cup before turning to you. “So, how’d it go in the Undercity? Did you run into your dad’s new kid?”

You glared playfully at the redhead “You know I don't go near that part of town.” you cut a piece of cake and placed it on the microwave “In all honesty, I don't even know what the girl looks like. The only thing I heard is that she drives him crazy.”

“You know, he might be looking to replace you with her.” Viper’s voice startled both of you, causing you to let out a small shriek.

“You know it might be true though” Koa agreed, handing you an order for a Mocha. “He went crazy looking for you and now, all of a sudden, he adopted a weird little girl he found on the streets. It adds up; he loses a kid and replaces it with another.”

“Okay, now you are making it sound like children are some sort of toy.”

“Wait that's not what I meant!” He complained “I'm just saying; she might be his way of coping after losing you”

You blinked a couple of times, assessing the information, and then moved on.

“You guys might be on to something, not gonna lie” You poured the drink on a cup and put it over the counter next to a Cafe Au Lait, though before you were able to go back, you noticed that the cake you had heated up was still there, waiting to get picked up. “Koa, who ordered the lemon cake?”

He frowned as he looked through the names written down on the long list of orders. “Talis. It was actually ordered to go with the Au Lait and the Mocha”

“Oh that must be Jayce then,” You said. You grabbed a small box meant for the pastries and put the cake inside and placed both coffees in a cardboard cup holder “Lemon cake, Cafe Au Lait, and Mocha to go for Jayce Talis.”

You rang the bell as you placed the order on the counter once again. Soon, a tall guy emerged from the sea of people holding his receipt up high. He nearly tripped on the way to the counter but he managed to get there in one piece.

“Oh hi Y/N, I didn't expect to see you here.” His eyes lit up before receiving his food “This place is amazing, what are you guys celebrating?”

Jayce was one of the brightest students in the academy, you were sure of it, but one thing you knew for sure after working alongside him on a Literature project, was that he hardly paid attention to his surroundings.

“Well, it's a new drink that the owners have launched” you explained “It's actually not a big deal, just boba, but with all the advertising people must have thought it was a new technological advance of some sort.”

“I wish drinks were part of technology; that way I would be good at them” He took a sip of his Mocha “Damn, I think this is the best Mocha I've ever had.”

“I'm grateful you feel that way; I made it myself” Viper handed you a coffee and you placed it on the counter for it to get picked up. “You don't strike me as a type to get a Cafe Au Lait, who is the lucky girl?”

Jayce seemed to choke on his drink, a deep laugh vibrating through his entire body. “It's actually for my lab partner, his name is Viktor. He's working on fixing some sort of device he brought into the lab. He has been very protective over it; I've barely even seen it and I'm not even allowed to touch it.”

“It's a hoverboard, actually” The boy stared at you in utter confusion. You would have laughed, but your professionalism kept your calm demeanor. “I met Viktor today; Heimerdinger introduced us. Long story short, he wanted something to tinker with and I gave him the hoverboard so he could fix it. He said he wanted a challenge and the thingy seemed interesting enough.”

“OH” Jayce’s eyes were blown wide and his jaw fell open dramatically. “You-” He looked in your direction as if he recognized you from somewhere but didn't know exactly where. You gave him a few seconds to pull himself together and watched him struggle to get the words out when the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together in his brain. “Well- It's getting late and these drinks won't be warm if I don't hurry. Bye Y/N, have a good day, and a good life. Bye, goodnight! Bye, see you later, goodbye.”

You watched him struggle to leave the place as fast as the sea of people allowed him to do so, before looking back at you from the door, waving goodbye, and scurrying past a young couple.

An old lady stepped forward grabbing the coffee you had placed on the counter. “That sure was an odd little fella,” she said, before putting her receipt in your hand and waddling away.

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imonawholedifferentlevel · 10 days

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕨𝕠

youtube

《 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗻?》

❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢

『𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮. 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗻𝘆』

The next day, Aj woke up early to help Vander set up and open up the bar.

"So how's the girls?" Vander asked while they raised the small barrier in front of the store.

"Their ok so far; we actually got to know each other a little better yesterday, and they loved my cupcakes." Vander gave the little boy a smile and ruffled his hair.

"You're a good kid. Aj, don't change for anyone, ok?" Aj was slightly confused but nodded either way.

He decided to go into the kitchen and make some breakfast for them. He checked through the cupboards and frowned when he couldn't find much, which meant they had to go out for supplies, something that he knew his mother would disagree with.

His demeanor instantly flipped over when he found some pancake mix. He happily cheered on the inside and grabbed the mix.

He made sure to prepare enough pancakes for everyone, but it did cost him the whole mix. He made a mental note to ask Vander to go out for some more.

He grabbed a big tray and placed the plates of pancakes on them before leaving the kitchen just in time to see his mom walk into the bar with some of her crew.

"Hey, mom, want some pancakes?" He asked, holding the tray up to her.

Even though Sevika never really ate breakfast, she always ate what her son made, usually to rate it for him, so she took a plate, he handed her a plastic fork, and she took a piece of the pancakes before taking a bite.

She hummed at the flavors and nodded her head in acknowledgement. "It's really good. Keep up the work, chump." She patted his head and walked off.

"You guys want any? I made a lot," he gestured to the crew. One of the guys shrugged his shoulders and said, "Why not?" He took a plate and a plastic fork.

"Thanks, little man," he said. A few more people took some before they followed Sevika to a table to play cards.

"Hey Vander You should eat something." Vander gave the boy a small smirk and waved him off. "It's alright, mate; I'll be fine. You should go check on the girls." Aj frowned a little, but decided to do so.

He made it downstairs and saw that the girls were already awake. "Hey Vi, hey Powder, I hope you guys are hungry because I made some pancakes." He gave the girls a plate each and a plastic fork.

"Thanks, Aj," Powder said, giving him a smile.

"You're welcome, Powder." He grabbed some for himself and sat on a chair in front of them, and the three kids conversed with each other while they ate.

"Did you all sleep well?" He asked, and they nodded.

"Yeah, we were pretty tired from yesterday," Vi commented, and Aj nodded.

"Yeah, it was a very rough day, but if you want, you guys can go upstairs to talk with Vander. He's been wanting to talk to you guys, but he wanted you guys to get some rest."

"Oh, ok, I'll be sure to talk to him," Vi said.

❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢

Aj grunted as he laid punch after punch on the punching machine. He dodged another attack the machine threw at him and performed a flying kick on it, making it fumble a little bit, but the attacks just kept coming, growing faster and faster each time.

His long black hair was tied up into a high ponytail with some loose strands, and sweat was cascading down his shirtless body due to the hours of work he was doing.

Aj was able to hold for 10 more minutes before the machine went off, signaling for more coins to be placed inside. He looked at the scoreboard and smiled proudly, knowing that he had beat his old score.

He heard someone applauding from behind him, and he turned to see Vi walking up to him while clapping her hands.

"That was really cool," she complimented.

"Thanks, it's my daily workout; my mom wants me to train so I don't become some scrawny, scaredy cat," he chuckled.

Vi looked down and blushed, just noticing that he didn't have any shirts showing his visible abs. Her face turned red, and she didn't pay attention to her breathing. The next thing she knew, her spit went down the wrong pipe, and she started coughing uncontrollably.

"Woah, hey, are you okay?" Aj was quick to run to her side and pat her back.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry," she stuttered.

"You were checking me out, weren't you?" He teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Vi scoffed and punched his shoulder. "No!" She grumbled.

"Mhm, it's okay. Lots of girls in Zaun have a crush on me. I'm a bit of a heartthrob," he hummed, the smirk still visible on his face.

"Well, I'm not one of them, and can you wipe that dumb smirk off your face?" Aj just laughed and said, "Ok, ok, my bad bubblegum.".

Vi rolled her eyes at the nickname: "Again, it's Vi, not Bubblegum.".

"Well, your hair is pink like bubblegum, so it kind of fits unless you want me to call you pinky instead." He gave her a wink, but she just kept a blank face.

"Bubblegum it is," he chuckled, walking to a small area, and Vi followed him.

"Do you think you could teach me?" She asked nervously, and he turned to her and gave her a smile. "Sure! I wouldn't mind a training buddy, but can I ask where this is coming from? Nobody usually asks to learn defense unless they have a reason or a mission set." Vi's eyes widened; he basically read her like a book.

"And if you're wondering how I knew, I'm pretty good at guessing what people are thinking or what they're going to say." Aj fixed his boxing gloves and gestured Vi over.

He grabbed some pink boxing gloves and handed them to her. "You just have pink boxing gloves lying around?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, call me crazy, but I keep them because I always had the feeling I was going to meet someone who was willing to train with me," he chuckled nervously while scratching the back of his head.

"You seem to know a lot about the future," Vi commented while putting on the gloves.

"Guess you could say it's a gift," he replied.

"Now when defending yourself, your fists should be guarding your face at all times because 95 percent of the time your opponent is aiming for your face." Aj put his fists in front of his face in a defense motion, and Vi copied his action.

"Now we're going to try an upper cut. Make sure your elbow is bent at 90 degrees and you move your right foot forward just a little, not too much, or else your opponent will know what you're doing and pick up on your move," he explained before doing an upper cut nice and slow.

Vi followed his lead, doing an uppercut perfectly. "Exactly, just like that, you're a natural!" Aj said, and Vi smiled.

After 20 minutes of practicing, Vi decided to try out her new-found moves by sparring.

"Are you sure you want to?" Aj asked, and Vi nodded.

"Yeah, I'm ready," she said.

"Alright." They both got in defense motion, eyeing each other for what felt like forever, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Vi decided to go first and lunged at Aj with an incredible speed that almost caught him off guard, but he was able to dodge the punch she threw at him. She was quick to turn around and dodge Aj's strike with her arm, using her right leg to kick him back.

He stumbled a little but still stayed on his feet. He lunged, hooked his arm under Vi's forearm, and flipped her over his shoulder. She grunted as she hit the ground but quickly got on her feet, doing a spin kick that Aj blocked.

Their moves got faster with each one of them taking a hit or being able to dodge the others attacks. Vi flipped over Aj's shoulder and kicked the back of his legs, forcing him on his knees and pinning him to the floor.

"Smooth move, bubblegum," he grunted. Vi smirked. "Thanks," she cockily replied.

"But you're forgetting one thing," he said. Vi released her grip on him and shrugged her shoulders.

"What?-" She yelled when he wrapped his legs around her waist and flipped them over, pinning her hands above her head. She groaned when the back of her head hit the mat.

"Always keep your guard up," he responded.

"Ok, you got me on that one," they both laughed, but it quietly died down when they looked into each other's eyes, grey connecting with Hazel.

They both felt their hearts beat faster, and Vi gave him a small smile. If his skin was lighter, he most definitely would be blushing.

He quickly cleared his throat and got off of Vi, extending his hand to help her up, which she accepted. "Uh, thank you for teaching me." Aj gave her a smile.

"Of course, and if you ever want to practice with someone you know who to call," he bumped her shoulder a little and walked off, grabbing his shirt and throwing it over his head, unaware of the girl watching him with a flushed face.

❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢

"I see you're getting along with those girls." Sevika commented that she and Aj were walking around Zaun searching for some more things.

"Yeah, they're pretty cool, especially Vi," Aj said, trying not to smile at the mention of the older sister.

"So that's her name, huh?"

Aj saw the small smirk on her face, and he groaned, "Yes, mom, that's her name, and little one, her name is Powder." Sevika snorted.

"Who the hell names their kid after something you put on babies?" she chuckled.

"Well, you could ask their parents, who mind that you aren't alive anymore." Sevika rolled her eyes at her son's smart comment.

"You know what I mean, boy," she grumbled while Aj laughed.

They walked past the famous brothel, where all the drunk men went to get some pleasure away from their wives and families. I never understood why people would vow to stay with someone only to betray their trust.

They walked past a group of girls his age, and to no surprise, they gushed over the boy, throwing him flirty winks and waves. He just rolled his eyes and continued talking with his mom.

"Hey mom I know this might be sensitive, but I want to know about my dad." Sevika instantly stopped in her tracks, and Aj regretted what he just asked.

"Nevermind, it's ok if..."

"No, no, you're old enough to know." Sevika sighed and sat down on a bench, and Aj sat down next to her.

"Before I started to work for Vander, I used to go to the brothel all the time. Well, I still do, but back then it was different, and that's where I met your father. He was a scrawny little fucker, and he was always my waiter, and he was the only one not scared to approach me," she explained with a chuckle.

"One day he struck up a conversation with me and asked me out. I had to make sure he wasn't fucking with me, which he wasn't, and I reluctantly agreed, thinking it was going to go nowhere, but surprisingly, it did. A few dates later, and some years later, I found out I was pregnant with you. He was excited and waiting every day for when you were to be born." She sighed and crossed her arms.

"But one day, enforcers flooded Zaun and shot down everyone. I was around five months pregnant with you, and we were hiding from enforcers, but they found us, and your father chose to sacrifice himself so that I could get away. As I was escaping, I looked back, and the last thing I saw was him smiling at me and those enforcer assholes putting a bullet in the back of his head.".

Aj didn't even notice a couple of tears running down his mother's face, but when he did, he instantly took her hand and linked their fingers together.

"You and him were so much alike. You loved getting into trouble but had the kindest and gentlest heart. That's why I'm so hard on you to take lessons because I don't want you to end up like your father. I want you to fight for the ones you love until the end." Sevika pulled out a small picture from her pocket and handed it to him.

Aj opened it and saw a man with chocolate skin, calm hazel eyes, and a beautiful smile. He had on an apron and seemed to be making something. He was looking at the camera and shooting it a wink while holding the spoon up.

"So this is him?" Aj asked, and Sevika nodded.

"What's his name?"

"Darius Reynolds," she answered.

"So is my last name Reynolds?" Sevika just shook her head.

"I really never got married, but technically you could legally take that last name because that is your father." Aj looked at the picture of his dad; he looked just like him but with more mature features.

"He loved to cook and make me meals anytime I craved anything."

"So that's where I got my cooking skills from." At this point, both pairs were in tears. Aj launched into his mother's arms and hugged her tight. She held him back, stroking his head while he cried in her arms, sending glares to anyone who looked their way.

This was one of the many times they had a mother-son moment, and to Aj, it felt special.

❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢

When they made it back to The Last Drop with the supplies, they managed to get Aj to see Vander Vi and Powder talking with two boys. One was skinny with messy brown hair and dark brown eyes, and the other was on the chubby side but still built. He had curly brown hair and goggles that shaded his eyes.

"Aj, you're back!" Powder ran to him and hugged his leg. He was kind of shocked, but he hugged her back. "Hey Powder, Vi." The pink-haired girl gave him a small wave.

Ever since their little moment a while ago, they have kind of been slightly awkward around each other.

"Aj, come; I want you to meet some people. This is Mylo, and this is Claggor." He gestured to the two boys. Aj gave them a smile and stuck his hand out to Claggor, who accepted it with a matching smile.

"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking hands with Mylo, who gave him a smirk.

"So you're the heartthrob, Aj, all the girls swoon over, huh?" Aj snickered and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess so," he replied.

"Too bad your place is going to get taken when I flash these babies." Mylo flexed his not-so-muscled muscles and kissed them. Aj tried to desperately hold his laughter in, but Vi beat him to it when she burst out laughing.

"More like sticks." At that point, everyone lost it and started laughing at Mylo, who turned red in embarrassment.

"Whatever," he mumbled, crossing his arms.

"Anyways, Aj, why don't you bring them downstairs and help them around?" Aj nodded, not minding some more male company that was actually around his age.

"Sure, Vander, come on guys, follow me," he said, leading them downstairs and opening the door to the small little lounge.

He pointed down a small, narrow entrance. "There are some small rooms you guys can stay in; someone might have to use a sleeping bag until Vander gets another bed." Both boys looked at each other before rushing into the room.

He turned and looked at Vi. "Hey Vi, can I talk to you?" The pink-haired girl stammered a little, and Powder had to help her with her speaking.

"Yes, you can," Powder chirped, pushing her sister towards the tall teenager.

Vi shot her sister a glare, but she was already skipping away.

"Uhh, I wanted to apologize earlier if I made you uncomfortable," he said.

"No, it's ok; it was just a really good move, and it caught me off guard. You were right; I can't let my guard down. Hopefully this won't stop us from training together." Aj was quick to shake his head.

"Of course not. I just want to make sure we're cool." Vi nodded. "We are," she replied.

He gave her a smile that made her heart melt, but it was ruined by a crash coming from the room where Mylo and Claggor were. They rushed inside and saw Mylo and Claggor basically wrestling for the bed.

"Uhh, are you guys good?" They quickly looked up and nodded. "Yes, everything is fine. Claggor, you piece of shit!" Claggor took Mylo's distraction as a chance to take the bed.

"Don't hate the player; hate the game," he cockily replied.

"You little-" Aj grabbed Mylo by the back of his shirt, lifted him up with one hand like it was nothing, and threw him onto the bed with Claggor.

"You both get the bed problem solved," he said, and Vi followed after him.

❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢

It was around 12 in the morning. Aj helped Vander close the bar down and said goodbye to his mom before he headed downstairs to where all the teens were sleeping.

He was going to head into his room, but when he heard small sniffles, he turned and followed the sound, only to see Powder crouched in a small corner with her knees to her chest.

She looked up at him with her baby eyes, tears running down her cheeks. Aj's face immediately softened, and he leaned down to her height.

"What's wrong, Powder?" She sniffled and wiped her nose.

"I miss my mom and dad," she whimpered. Aj opened his arms, and Powder cuddled into them. He picked her up and led them to the couch, where he sat down and just stroked her hair.

He rocked them back and forth and whispered reassuring words into her ear until she fell asleep, and he eventually did as well.

Vi snuck back into the shoot through the backdoor, making sure to be quiet. She was going to pass through the lounge but stopped when she saw Aj and Powder. Her lips curled up into a soft smile.

She grabbed a blanket and covered them with it, kissing Powder on the forehead before walking off into their shared room.

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yuyubeans · 23 days

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"wyd"

MAKING SPECIAL BROWNIES :3

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thekagehinacafe · 1 year

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hiiii bestie ♡♡♡ i've been thinking abt kagehina wanting kids and i was wondering if u'd do something with that?? and can i order it with uhhh blackberry sauce, orange syrup, chocolate syrup and maybe a hint of espresso? tysm i love you !!!

i love u moreee !!! here u go ♡

[domesticity, holding hands, hand kink, implied smut (post-sex pillow talk)]

give you my wild, give you a child

Shoyo is in bed, setting sun peeking slightly through closed curtains, his husband's hands - beautiful, wonderful hands, romantic hands, hands that took him past the moon mere moments ago - lying delicately on his ass, head in his neck. He's nude - he doesn't care where his clothes have gone, stripped hours ago for the desperate need for proximity - and so is Tobio, the fresh bitemarks on his biceps starting to bruise.

Love binds them in this moment. Lust, the frenzy, brought them here, and love keeps them here, not paramours but partners; "til death do we part, my sunshine".

Shoyo feels that wanton hand trail up his waist, to his shoulder blades, to his cheek. Tobio looks so delicately at him, long fingers on smile lines, adoration in his stare.

"I love you," he murmurs, and it's almost romantic, between the sweat and the saliva and the slick.

Shoyo reaches for him, grasping at his hand, holding his palm like a sacred artifact. They lie there, regaining their breath, holding eachother and intertwining fingers, duvet discarded. They are marble statues, post-sex monuments, lewd tapestries.

"I love you too."

Tobio looks down, past his own straight nose and pointed chin.

"Have you ever-" he stumbles, to this day still struggling with sincerity, "-thought about kids?"

Smiling, Shoyo doesn't recoil, but bathes in the idea.

"I'd like that."

"Teaching them volleyball and- and you could make their bento-"

"Why would I have to make the bento, asshole? I wanna teach them to spike!"

Tobio looks grumpy, an old familiar glare that's lost its poison.

"Our kids will be setters, dumbass! And you're a better cook than me! Don't be stupid!"

"I'm not being stupid! You're a better cook than me, idiot!"

They bicker, a tradition of sorts. Hands never leave hands, noses never part, and words continue to pummel without ever causing pain. Their old habits have evolved, but will never leave them.

"And they'd HAVE to be spikers, mean-yama! You can't have a whole team of setters!"

"Fine! We'll have six kids, enough for a team, and I'll teach the setter!"

"Fine!"

Shoyo begins to laugh. How poetic - from arguments as children, which position was better, which was cooler, which got more time with the ball - now to arguments as adults, hand in beloved hand, about children, which position would be better, cooler, get more time with the ball.

History repeats itself in the most romantic of ways.

This, at least, is something Shoyo has always found.

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starwarsgirlie · 8 months

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We Belong To Death

Hi homegirls! Here's the second chapter of my Viktor X Reader fic!

The reader has female anatomy and goes by she/her pronouns. Further chapters will contain NSFW content!

PLEASE comment on what you think or what you'd like to see! I love collaborating!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters besides Persephone. I used the Arcane lore and characters from Kander and Ebb's Cabaret for much of this chapter's plot!

Trigger warnings: Sexual themes, drugs, alcohol, and death

Chapter 2 - Life is a Cabaret

"Lacey", the name of the cabaret you worked at... and grew up in. Owned by your dearest Granny Ray, this place became your home. The upstairs is where you lived with the elderly women and your sisters, other orphaned children she had taken in. There were seven of you: Fritzy, Sally, Frenchie, Helga, Lulu, Rosy and you. You adored your family, and they adored you. Fritzy and Sally were the oldest, 24 years old—both tall and adorning beautiful locks of brown hair. Fritzy was known for her cold demeanor but nonetheless showed her sister's love in her own ways. Being the oldest is a tough job, and she felt it was her responsibility to help Granny Ray raise and protect you all.

Then there was Sally, also the oldest, but don't expect her to look after anything. Despite having the sweetest heart, she is known to be impulsive, forgetful, and a little on the wild side. Frenchie- 20, in your opinion, was one of your most beautiful sisters, who was quite aware of her beauty's effect on others. With her green eyes and auburn hair her smile could get her anything she wanted. Helga-20, too, could get anything she wanted from others, but this was more through intimidation; with her short purple hair and muscular build, she was your protector. However, she was also very charming, making her and Frenchie unstoppable in getting what they wanted. Lulu- 18, was very quiet and sensitive to what was happening around her. Being able to read people's emotions and intentions, she was who you needed when new people came knocking on the club door wanting to do business. With her petite build and dark hair, she easily went unnoticed when lurking in the shadows, assessing those around her. Finally, there was your sister, Rosy, with her curly black afro and golden brown eyes; she was the face of mischief. Rosy-18 had always been curious and intrigued by what was happening around her. She snuck into air ducts, closets, and cupboards with her petite build, nearly scaring Granny Ray half to death most of the time. If you ever wanted to know what was happening in anyone's life, she was the one you would ask.

Now, this cabaret is different from what you think it is. It isn't some shady strip club or whorehouse; Lacey was where one could watch a performance that could match those of the theatres in Piltover. Sure, you had your drunks and men who would ogle over the girls performing, but as Granny Ray said, "We live in a man's world, girls. Unfortunately, no one holds men accountable for their behavior, so we might as well make money off it." And she was right; the money you and your sisters made off those dingy men was why you survived in the undercity. However, this didn't mean the men could touch the performers; no, no, no, Granny Ray was very strict that her performers were always safe and that any person trying to cause funny business would be dealt with, often by Vander himself.

Vander was very close with Granny Ray as she often looked after his kids Vi, Powder, Claggor, and Mylo. Oh, how you loved them! Due to The Last Drop and Lacey being across the street from each other, you often spent time with them, which you loved because they were much closer in age to you than your sisters, as you were only 11. You were only allowed to be a performer at Lacey when you were 18, so while your older sisters performed, you worked behind the bar making "drinks" with Powder (Granny Ray made sure only to give you two fruit juices). This is how it went for years, all you kids running between the two establishments "helping" and getting a small allowance. However, it was clear that Vander and Granny Ray hardly gave you any actual work, instead just tasks to keep you busy.

Oh, how you couldn't wait for the day you could join the cabaret; you'd been learning the dances and songs your whole life from your older sisters, especially Rosy; she was often the star of the show and one of the sisters you were most close with. Her grace and elegance were unmatched, and while you thought all your sisters were talented, you could understand why she was the star.

As the years passed, you got more and more excited to join the cabaret until things took a turn for the worst. You were not told what happened; all Granny Ray said was Vander had passed away, and you could no longer see the kids. Only from Lulu and Rosey did you hear of Claggor and Mylo's death and how Vi and Powder had disappeared. You couldn't believe this and in a panic rushed to The Last Drop, and who you found was a man called Silco. He bent to your level despite his cold facade, "Hello, young Percy. I suggest you run back home, but not before I give you a message for Granny Ray; tell her that Lacey is under my protection and has no obligation to help sell shimmer." You ran home confused. What was shimmer, and why was he protecting your home? Upon arrival, Granny was furious. And you were forbidden ever to go there and talk to your friends again. Why do so many people expect you always to forget the past and those you love with little to no explanation? However, sensing your sadness and panic, Fritzy took you aside to explain what had happened more clearly. "My dearest Percy, I know you are confused, but you need to know that at this time, you have to stay away from there for your safety. Your friends have moved to another beautiful world where they are now playing together!" "But why did they leave me? Everyone leaves me." you sobbed, and the windows shook. All your sisters came into the room, knowing you were losing control. Before you knew it, they surrounded you, gently holding you in a group hug. You calmed down and looked up, "We will never leave you, Percy." Frenchie smiled. "Of course not; you're my favorite sister. Do you think I like these other bitc-OUCH?" Sally elbowed Helga in the side; don't swear in front of her. Everyone giggled, including you. "We love you, Percy, and we are here for you always," Sally whispered, kissing your forehead.

You were sad for a long while, but with the support of your sisters and time, you began to feel better, and before you knew it, it was your 18th birthday.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #powder arcane #jinx arcane #vander arcane #arcane silco #jayce talis #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane headcanon #silco #arcane netflix #viktor #smut

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thisismyrandombloooog · 9 months

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Writing a Vi x Reader fanfic. I’ve done the first chapter, I don’t know if I’m going to keep writing it but if enough people like it I will. Check it out if you can, I’d appreciate it :)

https://www.wattpad.com/1373736137-arcane-vi-x-female-reader-act-1-chapter-1

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xoxo-honeyy · 11 months

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jinx masterlist

nothing yet but submit an ask or request!

comforting jinx hc’s

nothing yet but submit an ask or request!

#jinx #powder #jinx x reader #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #jinx smut #jinx fluff #jinx angst #honey's masterlist #honey's anthology #xoxo-honeyy

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powderblueblood · 5 months

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HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER ONE — THE POISE, INTEGRITY and LUCK OF A KENNEDY

MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: you go head-to-head with your new neighbor, eddie munson, and lose something precious to you in the process. content warnings: NSFW / MINORS DNI swearing, classic 80s classism, tommy hagan jumpscare, eddie munson jackin off word count: 3.4k

Dear reader, I wish I could tell you it ends well for you.

I wish I could tell you that this is nothing but a bad dream, or a fugue state, or an extremely vivid hallucination brought on from that weed your friends buy from that burnout in the horrendous denim vest that is now your next door neighbor.

I wish I could tell you that you’re not sitting on your designer suitcases in the weed-ridden lot of a trailer park, watching your mom (who is already it’s-five o’clock-somewhere drunk) charmlessly haggle about the rent.

See, you used to have money, but now you don’t.

You used to have a dad who wasn’t incarcerated, but now you don’t.

You used to have integrity, but the IRS seized the last of that along with your childhood home in Loch Nora.

I wish I could tell you that you weren’t totally fucked. But it seems that there’s no way this total shitheap of a situation could get worse–

“Need a little help with that?”

–except there is. There totally is.

You flex your hand, relieving it from it’s writing cramp. You’ve been hunched over your journal, perched on your ready-to-burst luggage for what seems like hours now– admittedly, you’re the kind of girl that’s used to valet service. Bellhops carrying your suitcases to your room when you used to join your dad on business trips.

But valets never looked like this. Squinting at you from beneath his ratted-out waves, Eddie Munson gives you a once-over that makes your stomach lurch. You know him the same way everyone in Hawkins knows him– either barrelling through the hallways like a tweaked out autocrat whose only dominion is over his group of unwashed dorks or palming off baggies at parties. But there’s something about Munson that’s always rubbed you the wrong way. He’s so loud and defiant and achingly obvious, smug when he’s got no right to be.

Especially now.

“Excuse me?” you drawl, snapping closed the leatherbound journal.

“Just wheeling out the welcome wagon. It’s not often we get new neighbors with so much…,” he pauses, gaze scanning over the boxes and bags and randomized ephemera being loaded out of the cheapest moving van Hawkins has to offer, “Shit.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Munson, I’d say you were casing the joint.” In fact, you find yourself wondering where exactly your jewelry box is– y’know, the leftover shit your parents didn’t already pawn. The millieu of your grief made you forget about the high possibility of people in the trailer park stealing your stuff.

Munson grimaces. “Do I look like a thief to you?”

“You look like a drug dealer to me,” you snipe, smile all fake. “You might be looking to diversify your criminal skillset. How should I know?”

From where you sit on your straining suitcase, you’re about eye-level with Eddie’s crotch. And call him a weirdo, call him whatever, he doesn’t mind the view. As much as he’d like to pretend he’s above the discordant buzz of Hawkins’ gossip scuttlebutt, news of your family’s downfall is hot shit. He can barely believe it’s really happening, and right in his front yard; Hawkins High’s stoniest, coldest fox and her equally foxy mom were packing their fur coats and shit into a double wide. Eddie couldn’t lie– he liked seeing people like you get knocked down a peg. So he’d come to gloat. A little.

But you’re all snappy and full of venom– not like in school, where he’s almost positive you’ve never made eye contact with him.

He doesn’t mind that change in attitude either.

“C’mon. That luggage looks a little heavy for you, princess,” he says. “I don’t entirely trust you getting it inside the trailer without breaking a nail.”

“I don’t need your help,” you say, shoving that tattered journal into your book bag. Eddie wonders what kind of bullshit you’re always writing in there– every time you’re not in the middle of some idiot milleu with your popular cohorts, you’re practicing your longhand.

“You could use it, though,” he counters, and the condescension in his tone makes your cheeks flare up. You spring from your seat on the suitcase, making Munson take a shocked half-step back. His eyes blaze, rounding out as he takes you in at your full height.

Still taller than you. He'll be okay. He thinks.

“I’m a goddamn cheerleader, you Neanderthal looking dipshit,” you spit, “I’ve got a core of steel.”

You turn and dip, reaching for the thick leather handles of the case and discover–oof–that’s a little bit way heavier than you were expecting it to be. But spurned by sheer stubbornness and a need to get away from him as quickly as humanly possible, you brace yourself against the screaming muscles in your arms and wobble the baggage all the way to the trailer door. Your mom stands in your path, dress slipping off her shoulders, blearily looking toward the Munson kid as he retreats to his own trailer with a languid backwards tread. He can’t look away from this scene.

“Mom. Mom, can I fucking–” you struggle through gritted teeth, “The bag, Mom. Get out of the way.”

She moves out of your way at an aching half-speed as Munson’s eyes burn hot on your struggling frame–he’s loving this, he’s loving seeing you in the shit just like everyone’s loving seeing you in the shit–and you deposit your suitcase in your brand new matchbox-sized bedroom with a heaving gasp. Shit.

You cross the room in about three steps, heading to the window to close the blinds– shshk. Sshsk.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The blinds begin to close, but stop dead not even halfway across the window. They’re stuck, leaving you without a particle of privacy. Which sucks, of course, because you were really banking on some scheduled crying time tonight.

You had held it in for as long as you possibly could, all that hurt and frustration at the disaster your father had landed you in, promising yourself that you’d let it all out once you and your mom had a safe place. A place that wasn’t your estranged aunt’s basement couch, or a motel you could barely afford. A place that you could at least pretend was home. In your minds eye, you had envisioned something modest-if-shitty– the sunnier end of Cherry Lane, maybe. You hadn’t counted on a place that required a gas hookup.

You tug on the beaded chain with a desperate force and no give– exasperated, you let your head slump against the filthy windowpane. The bedroom window stares directly into the window of the trailer opposite, where a warm yellow light flickers on and illuminates another bedroom.

Peeling posters and a guitar on the wall. Of course. Of course you’ve got a bird’s eye view into Eddie Munson’s fetid cave. He spots you in the window and pouts a big ol’ pitiful pout– poor little rich girl. Missing your velvet blackout curtains?

You can’t flip him the bird quick enough before he closes his fully functional blinds.

–

You sleep like shit. Exhaustion couldn't even beat you into a slumber. You couldn’t be bothered to begin the unpacking process and instead fished out whatever closest resembled pyjamas from your luggage (an oversized t-shirt from a father-daughter trip to Columbia University), curling up on your bare mattress with your coat thrown over you, but the thing that was really keeping you awake? You couldn’t find your pen.

Your prized possession pen, your fountain pen in the ruby-red casing. Your journaling pen. You refuse to write in your diary with an inferior instrument, alright, that’s just not how it’s done, but it’s nowhere to be found. It’s not rolling around the bottom of your book bag, though you’ve emptied the thing three times. It’s not anywhere.

You ask your mom if she’s spotted it anywhere, but she’s still in a Valium haze when you’re buzzing around, trying to get ready for school.

That’s a whole other ordeal. Your acceptable school clothes are, again, buried in some suitcase that was hastily packed as agents waited for you to vacate the property. And by appropriate, you mean your carefully chosen pastel color palette– the very best of the very trendiest, the ra-ra skirts and the bomber jackets that sit so perfectly on your poised shoulders. The kind of clothes that make someone like Tina go, God, I wish we could trade dads. Just for the credit card.

Now, all you’ve got to hand are the clothes that feel like your dirty little secret– thrift store suede and dark, rich knits, dresses of velvet and leather boots. The kind of things you collect just to collect, to dress up in when you know no one’s going to be looking at you and think someday. Someday you’ll be someplace where you don’t have to wear the exact right JCPenney piece of shit to fit in with a crowd. Because these are the kinds of clothes that feel right, but make people, important people, people like Carol go–

“Jesus, Lacy, dressed for a funeral much?”

You hadn’t though the ensemble was too dark, but hey, in the harsh light of day. You bashfully shrug your jacket closer around you, faux fur collar tickling your ears. “I’m in mourning.”

“Shit, I hate driving out here,” Tommy Hagan squawks from the driver’s seat, already agitated first thing in the morning, “I always feel like I’m gonna get carjacked.”

Forget your shitty car; the only thing they’d be stripping for parts out here is you, Tommy, you want to quip, but you just fasten your seatbelt. Carol had managed to guilt him into giving you a ride this morning, an effort in pity and also because she wanted the gossip from the trailer park before anybody else.

“Yeah, how was it, Lace? Did you like, deadbolt the doors and shit? Because you really gotta do that out here.”

“You should get a bat to leave by the door. Y’know, for intruders,” Tina blankly adds, staring into her compact mirror.

“You should get a gun,” Hagan says, peeling out of the park with a quickness, “if that’s who you’re livin’ next to.”

“What? Who?”

“That Munson freak,” you sigh, resting your head against the windowpane again, “He like, basically threatened to rob me when I was trying to move in yesterday.”

A chorus of disgust rises up in the car that makes you feel good– warm, surrounded, accepted. Even though it blatantly wasn’t true, you’d do just about anything to win your friends’ approval these days. You noticed a certain waver in their stares when you revealed where you’d be moving to, after your dad was sentenced and everything.

A lot of the time, you didn’t feel like they wanted to be there for you, more that they wanted to be the first to hear the dirt on Hawkins’ most scandalous family.

Usually you’re the one on the receiving end of their deep, dark secrets.

It’s like they feel like they finally have something on you.

Or, no! That’s crazy, you’re just being paranoid. These are your friends. As much as high schoolers can be friends.

“I’ve got just the thing to take your mind off it, Lacy,” Tina says, pinching your arm, “Kegger at Harrington’s on Friday. He even asked about you–”

“--he said he could give you a discount at Family Video if you need it–” Hagan sniggers, earning a smack in the ear from Tina.

“--shut up! So, you’re not a total social pariah yet, okay?”

You blink. You know Tina means well, but sometimes she is so fucking tactless. “Um. Didn’t think I was one, Tins, but thanks for the reassurance. I guess.”

–

He’s not a thief. He swears to God, or whatever the cooler alternative of God is, he’s not.

But he’d be lying if he didn’t consider keeping the stupid red pen just to see if you’d miss it. It’s engraved, he noticed, while rolling it between his fingers as he lay in bed last night. And Eddie Munson is a man not unfamiliar with the value of a decent writing utensil. Those D&D campaigns don’t write themselves. You want something that’s going to be in it for the scribbling long haul and this thing’s not bad. Etched in teeny tiny letters on the pen cap are your initials– the letters of a name no one calls you anymore.

Which is the part that makes it stupid, obviously. What is it with rich people and putting their monogram all over everything?

God, she’s obsessed with this fuckin’ thing, Eddie thinks. Wonder how much it’s worth. A lot, to you, obviously. You’re always etching with it in English, using it to push a lock of hair behind your ear in the library. Tapping it against your lips when you’re standing at your open locker, the tip settling right into your Cupid’s bow, the red casing bouncing off the plush pink of— woah. Pause.

Eddie had to take a beat.

He’d been tapping the pen against his lips too. Thinking about you. Thinking about your lips. That nasty little pout you gave him outside your trailer, the snarl it curled into when he goaded you on.

Fuck, was that kinda… were you kinda…

It’s enough for him to jam the pen into his mouth and palm himself over his boxers, just to make sure. And— yep. He’d hummed, a kind of well whaddaya know! and slipped his hand under the worn elastic waistband. He even gave himself a couple of tugs, just to make sure.

And the thing that made him really sure was the Technicolor vision he had of confronting you in the library’s restricted section.

Yanking that pen away from your mouth and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

Clamping his mouth onto yours and sinking his tongue so deep inside he could taste the cherry Tab lingering on your uvula.

Guiding your hand, your writing hand, past the undone clink of his belt and waistband of his jeans so you could stroke him to the head.

Ink stains mixing with precum.

Moaning into your mouth.

Giving you something to write to dear diary about.

So now, back in the harsh light of day, this stupid rich bitch pen is burning a hole in his pocket.

Almost like payback, as if you’d embarrassed him by making him hard in the privacy of his own trailer, he approaches you in the most audacious setting imaginable— the cafeteria.

You sit there, among your usual gaggle of Gap zombies, but you look— different. You’re dressed different. Cool jacket, Eddie involuntarily thinks before mentally slapping himself. Shut up! We’re here to humiliate her, remember?

“Lacy,” he says, but he draws it out all over his tongue so it sounds like laayyyy-ceeee, and you are visibly disgusted by this. He looms over the table, barely containing the twisted grin on his face. He's playing the part of fake bashful here, you see. “You, uh, dropped this outside my place last night.” Your shoulders go tense. Eyes of your space cadet friends snapping back and forth, from Eddie to you to Eddie to you.

Because it’s true. Technically, you did drop it and technically, it was outside his place but the implication is what's killing you.

Eddie can barely outstretch his hand before you snap the pen from him, icy fingers a shock to his skin. This sick thrill gathers like a twister in his stomach as you freeze in place, staring him down with a laser pointed glare. Fuck. Off. And. Die, it says.

But he doesn’t! “Oh gosh, no need to thank me, Lace! Really, it was no trouble at all— what are neighbors for!”

Mocking giggles start bursting from the popular kid peanut gallery. But the flavor is… off.

Eddie scans the little in-crowd that are scoffing at your expense— which, okay, is totally what he came over here to do but… these are meant to be your buddies, right? Shouldn’t Hagan be threatening to beat Eddie’s ass right about now?

But instead they’re just… letting you stew. No one’s telling Eddie to back off, no one’s calling him their second favorite F slur (freak, naturally).

Nicole Summers is laughing into her sleeve. That’s rich. Underclassman Carver is almost looking at him like, Yeah man, you got her good!

Which does not feel good. Feels kind of shitty, actually.

Too easy of a win.

You didn’t even get a chance to fight back. You couldn’t.

Fuck.

Eddie turns heel and heads back to his table, a gaggle of befuddled Hellfire heads eager to know what the hell was that, man?! But even he can’t quite put his finger on it.

He feels… bad for you.

—

“Anybody got bleach?”

It’s the first thing you manage to choke out after a chorus of ooh, Lacy, what a good neighbor! and Hope that’s all you dropped outside his trailer, girl! All through lunch period, you’re the fucking laughing stock squared thanks to that long haired douchebag.

“Bleach ain’t gonna cut it,” Carol smirks as you both exit the girls room and head toward your respective lockers, “That thing is totally contaminated with freak cooties. Better toss it— unless you don’t mind.”

See, that’s the thing. You do mind, because it’s your stupid goddamn special idiot sentimental pen and now he’s gone and— and— freaked it up somehow. Exploiting the fact you’ve had to make a major lifestyle downgrade because it makes him feel better. It makes you feel even more exposed than you’ve been getting used to feeling lately.

Before you can get into it any more, Carol is clotheslined by Tommy to go, I don’t know, finger each other behind the basketball bleachers or whatever it is they do instead of going to study hall. You’ve lost track.

You push past the gathering rush in the hallway to access your locker. Just as you slam the door closed, it appears again, like an insistent apparition.

“What, Munson, are you here to tell me you put a bomb in my book bag? Because, if so, great. At least that’ll kill me.”

Munson stands there, leaning against some poor bastard freshman’s locker, brow all tight.

“Was I kind of a dick earlier?”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I was. Shit, I knew it!”

“Why the fuck are you talking to me.”

“I didn’t mean it to come off like that— well, okay, I kinda did, but that was pretty cold. I mean, your dirty laundry’s already all over Hawkins, I probably shouldn’t have been like, waving your panties around—“

“Munson.” You gesture toward him, as if you’re going to clutch him by the forearms to shut him up, but halt at the last second. Fuck, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand the way he’s standing there with this earnest look in his eyes, on some hair metal Ferris Beuller protagonist of reality bullshit.

Your eyes flare white hot, jaw flexing.

“Listen to me. We may live in a regrettably closer orbit now, but that does not require us to acknowledge each other as human beings. In fact, if you try and pull some shit like that again— in fact, if you even so much as deign to look in my direction again, I will slash the tires on that fucking decommissioned World War II ambulance you call a van. You do not exist to me, and I better not exist to you. I am not your neighbor, I am a figment of your fucking rotted pothead imagination at best. Leave me the fuck alone or I will eat you. Capiche?”

You know for a fact that these are the highest volume of words you’ve ever spoken (or will ever speak) directly to Munson, and he knows it too. You don’t let loose like this— you don’t even talk to anyone outside your friend group unless extracurriculars or group projects call for it. Not because you’re shy, but because you’re discerning.

Munson has managed to disarm you of all that with one stupid little pen.

He’s staring at you with a deviously shiny-eyed gaze, one that makes you feel like you need to button the modesty button of a blouse you’re not even wearing.

“M’kay, well, let me know if you need a ride after school!” he chirps and shrugs and takes off down the hallway to some class he’s certainly failing.

And you’ve just earned the first big fat F of your life, by letting Eddie Munson get under your skin.

author's notes: hi! if you've read this far, i owe you my eternal thanks. been a hot sec since i wrote fic so i appreciate it. - thee perennial reference to lacy's nickname— best imagined sung to yourself in your bedroom mirror and having a classic 18 year old existential crisis, lol! - the journal and fountain pen motif is a not entirely subtle reference to veronica sawyer from heathers. please expect this trend to continue - as far as timelines go re: steve's working life and tommy and carol's high school careers, bear with me. all will be discussed or at least briefly mentioned but will there be inconsistencies? of course there will, babe. i'm here to fuck around, i'm not here for continuity - horndog eddie munson you WILL live forever! - please reblog, like & comment to show support! i've got some killer chapters planned for this fic and i live to entertain u

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #e. munson by powder

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ffiahh · 11 months

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oh, what the world could have been if we stayed as one.

perhaps, we thought too ahead of ourselves, no?

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j-art-2d2 · 2 years

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taking ekko requests!! anon said they’re starved and i wanna deliver!! pls send !

#jinx x ekko #ekko #ekko arcane #star guardian ekko #ekko x y/n #ekko league of legends #ekko fanart #ekko smut #ekko x powder #arcanefanfic #arcane smut #arcane fanfic #arcane league of legends #arcane fanart

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sophibubbless · 2 years

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Updates on Silco X Reader

As promised, the next chapter has been released the very next day of posting the fiction. I was serious, the updates will be speedy. And since todays was a little short, chapter three will be coming out tonight too as a little treat. Thanks so much for the first people that've already read it, kudo'd as well as the first comment I've gotten so far! "Love it so far, and I’m really excited to see where this will go ❤️ - witchgoblins/I'm-Josh-Dun-With-You"

I'm incredibly happy and grateful, your support gives me life and fuels my motivations. I hope you all enjoy the journey this fanfiction takes!

Interested? Well, you can start reading it right here, right now!

A Fresh Start In Zaun - Silco X Reader A03 (You can also sample chapter one, posted on Tumblr yesterday)

You were good at moving on. Constantly adapting and evolving with each new life and new environment, always wondering which one will be your last. The feeling clawed inside you like a trapped bird, ready to spread its wings.

Until you arrived in Zaun, and fell under the gaze of a certain man with mismatched eyes and an intimidating aura. The kingpin, leader of Zaun. All because of your friend's hair brained schemes, you were unwillingly thrown into the deep end.

You were just a baker with, supposedly, no past... But maybe this life could be more.

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zarameraki · 1 month

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♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.

Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.

The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.

Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.

That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.

You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.

“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”

“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.

Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.

“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.

Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.

As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.

Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.

Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.

Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.

In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.

“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”

You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.

As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.

She’s feeble.

Her hair lacks refinement.

The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.

She’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.

Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.

But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.

Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.

They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.

Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.

Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.

Good.

You craved precisely that outcome.

If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.

Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.

As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.

“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.

Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.

“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”

“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.

She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.

You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.

“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.

With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.

“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.

“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.

As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.

“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.

“Y/N, my Lord.”

As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.

A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.

You blinked in astonishment.

He appeared . . . young?

The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.

Physically, at least.

His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.

As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you stood a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.

With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.

The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.

Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.

“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.

Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?

“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.

Would he?

A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.

“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”

“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”

Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.

Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.

As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.

“Don’t.”

In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.

Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?

“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame. The robe slipped from your shoulders, revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.

A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.

He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.

“Turn around.”

The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.

“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”

Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.

Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.

A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.

Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.

“My Lord—”

“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”

Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.

Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.

His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.

Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.

With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.

Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.

His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.

Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly tight, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”

You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.

“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you—I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.

Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.

You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing of his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.

In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.

Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.

“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.

“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”

“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”

His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic speech.

As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.

“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”

“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”

“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”

Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.

“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.

“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.

“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”

“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”

“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.

With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.

Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.

“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.

In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.

Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.

Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.

They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.

But why you?

Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?

“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.

“No.”

“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”

Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”

“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.

With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.

As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.

Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.

Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.

Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.

Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.

No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.

“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”

You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.

For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.

You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.

As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.

But that moment never arrived.

Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.

“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.

“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.

The room fell into a sudden hush.

Dine with him?

The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.

Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.

With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.

Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.

“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.

“Draw near.”

Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.

“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.

You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.

“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.

His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”

You blushed deeper at his statement.

“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his fingers, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.

Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”

“Do what?”

“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”

Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.

Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.

“I ventured into town today,” he said.

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”

“Indeed, quite fruitful.”

In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.

Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, bearing the cruel marks of torture.

His face marred by countless wounds, an eye cruelly absent, and teeth scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.

The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”

Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.

“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.

You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.

Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.

Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.

A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.

Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.

With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.

Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.

Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.

But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.

You glanced back again.

Until Sukuna.

Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.

It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.

No one would dare suspect the truth.

No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.

No one, except Sukuna.

Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.

With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.

A comforting warmth touched your back.

Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.

As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”

Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”

“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”

“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks.” His lips brushed against yours. “From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love.”

That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.

He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rice and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.

In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.

Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.

On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.

Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.

Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.

Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.

Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.

Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.

Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?

“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.

You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”

“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. ��Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”

Sukuna snapped the book shut.

You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.

This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.

“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”

With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.

“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”

Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"

Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.

“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”

“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”

Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.

Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.

With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.

As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.

Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.

Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.

With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.

“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”

Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.

With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.

Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.

Together, you sailed upon the waves of raw carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—

Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.

You had achieved victory.

His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.

With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.

You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.

“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”

“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.

“Did I please you, my Lo—”

“Sukuna,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”

“My L—”

“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.

You affirmed your agreement with a nod.

He was Sukuna.

Your Sukuna.

“Very well, Sukuna.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”

“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”

“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”

“As you are,” Sukuna answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”

Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”

Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.

As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.

Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”

“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with irritation.

“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.

Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re—you’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”

“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”

Your brow furrowed in dismay.

It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.

You no longer wished to endure this charade.

You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.

In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.

“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”

You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.

“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”

“Sukuna,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.

“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”

With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.

Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.

Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.

Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.

“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.

Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Sukuna,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.

“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”

You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”

With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”

You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.

Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.

“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”

Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.

Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.

“Sukuna . . . ”

With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.

But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.

And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.

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