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blkkizzat · 7 months ago

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❝ AITA FOR ACCIDENTALLY GETTING MY ANCIENT SORCERER BF HIGH? ❞

MODERN ERA TRUE!FORM SUKUNA X READER

» thread [summary]: Sukuna just ate all your edibles and is now more lit than Tokyo Tower—great. Now you have to fuck his high n' grumpy ass calm before you're the one that's actually fucked.

» upvotes [wc]: 11.9k » awards [cw]: true form sukuna, crack fic 110%, dr*g use, accidental dr*gging, slight dubcon, sub!sukuna, cunnalingus, fingering, whiny!sukuna, riding, twin-cock sukuna, nipple teasing, lots of banter, spanking, bimbo!reader, pussy smacks, frottage, premature ejaculation, creampie, breeding fantasies, rimming, cum eating, femdom, uncut/uncircumcised, high n' sassy sukuna, bondage, lots of teasing, and bits of fluff . » mod comments [a/n]: part of the 'we be burnin' JJK 420 collection (ill make a series post eventually i swear lol). I had the goal of keeping this under 12k and i made it! by 44 words. this was supposed to be a 5k fic but I got carried away because I love exploring modern day tf!sukuna x reader relationship so lots of banter and tid bits.

Enjoy!

Ok girl. Deep breaths. You got this!

Standing in front of the large shoji door to Sukuna’s quarters, any nerve you build quickly dissipates by the time you raise your hand to knock.

SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!

Swaying on your feet, suddenly, you don’t feel so sober anymore. Well, technically you weren’t even sober to begin with—far from it actually, you'd just started the come down from some pretty powerful edibles.

Edibles which happen to be the source of all your troubles now.

You thought Sukuna leaving, for what you assumed would be a few days, would be the perfect opportunity for you to get completely zoinked off your ass—and that's exactly what you did.

Yet, unbeknownst to you, his plans had changed and he had returned home only after a day.

So when you finally awoke from your weed-induced power nap to discover Uraume had served Sukuna the remaining of the matcha and adzuki manju edibles you had made, you just about fell out.

Uraume had given Sukuna all three dozen of them.

You didn’t even intend to make so many, but you accidentally doubled the recipe for weed butter and you weren’t about to let good product go to waste. Not with how tough it was to find good weed in Tokyo with it being illegal and all.

But fuck!

You can’t recall a single time Sukuna ever enjoyed human food—more sated by human flesh instead.

Yet from what Uruame told you he had already eaten at least five of them already.

Who knew The Curse King had such a fucking sweet tooth?!

Of course, Uraume blamed you once you explained. And true, while you did make the edibles, you certainly didn’t tell their ass to serve them to Sukuna!

Uraume scoffed at you though, claiming anything in Sukuna’s palace belonged to Sukuna—including you and whatever you happened to bake.

The pompously dull scolds Uraume gave went in one ear and out the other as you rolled your reddened eyes. Eyes which immediately turned into a panic when Uraume demanded it be you, not them, to check up on Sukuna.

That was the whole reason why you are even in front of Sukuna’s door right now sweating fucking buckets.

Especially, since Uruame made the utterly insane accusation of you attempting to poison Sukuna.

You tried to argue that Sukuna is immune to toxins—but Uraume wouldn’t listen to any of that.

Hell, If you thought you could take Uraume in a fight, even in a more sober state, you would have literally scrapped with their ass before you agreed to check on a possibly high Sukuna.

Who knows what kind of nefarious time The King of Curses would be on while high!?

Uraume is the one who is his attendant and also fed him the edibles!

They should be the one to go!

But you also aren’t an idiot. You know for a fact Uraume would hand you your ass and then force you to go check on him anyway. No sense in getting unnecessarily bagged up when Sukuna himself might actually kill you.

So here you were, in front of his door dreading what might be waiting for you on the other side.

“Woman! You are annoying me more by just standing out there, come-in or fucking leave.”

Piercing your thoughts, Sukuna’s gruff command booms through the door with enough force to make you take a few steps back.

Okay maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad?

He sounded normal enough.

No one high could still be this grumpy.

Sukuna is The King of Curses after all.

Something as simple as a mere plant shouldn’t have any affect on him, right?

Steeling yourself, you slide open the door to his chambers.

You make a mental note to fire your therapist, as the deep meditative breathing patterns they recommended does fuck all to temper your increasing anxiety in this situation.

Peering into the room before you enter, you see Sukuna propped on his side atop the wooden engawa patio leading to his private gardens. His nose seems to be buried in some ancient text you can't quite decipher from this distance.

Well, he looks normal enough too—from what you could tell at least.

You walk towards him but Sukuna makes no acknowledgement to greet you.

However, if you could see his face, you would see the amused evil that pulls up at the corner of his lips.

Sukuna can sense your uneasiness radiating off of you in waves.

You’d not been this distressed to be in his presence in quite some time and yet you still sought him out—something you rarely did—even in a good mood. Typically, you’d only come to him when he called for you or when you wanted his cock.

You had to want something from him—and a slut like you was never shy about asking for dick.

Interesting.

Sukuna knew you hated having to humble yourself to ask anything of him, so he took great pleasure in teasing you for it when necessity meant you could no longer delay your request.

Whatever you wanted, Sukuna certainly wouldn’t make it easy for you.

Where would be the fun in that?

And neither would your own body, apparently, make this situation any easier. You nearly trip over your own feet as the paranoid side effects of your high reaches full throttle.

Your eyes growing wider with each step forward.

The vision of the tea set next to him along with the plate of your manju edibles—the now almost empty plate—confirms your fears.

Only one solitary piece remained.

Nervously, you kneel near Sukuna’s feet, your back perfectly straight and your arms extended in front of you. Forcing yourself into an overly formal position to avoid fidgeting any more than you already are.

A tense silence settles between you both—well, tense for you.

Sukuna seems perfectly content to bask in your discomfort.

You swallow, unsure how to start.

Even if he wasn’t a malevolent ancient cursed sorcerer, telling someone they’ve been accidentally dr*gged was never going to be a pleasant conversation.

Although, you still do your best to be covert in your inspection of him—no sense in telling him he’d been dr*gged at all if he wasn’t actually high.

Sukuna on the other hand is growing impatient with your nervous energy.

When he finally speaks, you’re nearly jumping out of your own skin.

“Why are your eyes so red, brat? Don’t tell me you’ve been fucking crying again? Is the time of your moon cycle upon us already?”

Did this man for real just ask you if you were on your period!?!?

Exhaling deeply out of your nose, you give him a polite, yet clipped, reply.

“Just allergies, m’lord.”

You wanted to tell him off so bad but you didn’t want to piss him off more than necessary, considering the circumstances. Besides, you were certain your eyes were red as hell right now from being high for the last three hours. So in order to control your temper, you proceed to gaslight yourself into thinking that, for someone like Sukuna, this was a logical assumption to make.

The thought stops you from cussing him out at the very least.

However, Sukuna is astute enough to know you’re lying.

Truthfully, he’d only made the comment to rile you up.

Not only were you a horrible liar to begin with—but everything from your clenched knuckles, to the way you gnaw on your inner cheek to contain your sass, are all dead giveaways.

Those facts withstanding, Sukuna could tell by the subtle shift in the scent of your intoxicating pheromones alone if you were on your moon cycle or not.

And it was far too late into summer for it to be allergies.

No, something is on your mind.

Something you didn’t want to come right out and tell him.

Not that he tended to care at all about any of your silly concerns, but seeing you had seeked him out in such a frazzled state has him curious.

What other than him could get his favorite lil’ human this upset?

Sukuna immediately loses the little remaining interest he has in his book, all of his interest now focused on you.

His evil grin widens.

“Then is ‘just allergies’ to blame for placing the notion in your dizzy little head that I wanted to be fucking bothered with your presence right now? Or are you telling me ‘allergies’ is a new modern term for sluts wanting dick?”

Son of a bi—and see this is exactly why you actively avoided him when you’re not fucking him!

Sukuna was obnoxiously insufferable to be around when he wasn’t giving you toe-curling, heart-stopping, vision-blinding orgasms. You surely would have at least tried to escape by now if it wasn’t for that—well, that and the fact he did have a literal palace and you no longer had to have a job or worry about rent, bills and all the other shit you hated about adulting.

You weren’t treated like a princess but you pretty much had access to everything practical you could ever want.

Although you were still working on getting a stable internet connection up in the mountains.

Yeah, no, Sukuna wasn’t a bum by any means and you could surely do a lot worse than a mean, forever-grumpy, ancient asshole.

Sigh.

However, as far as you were concerned now, you had two ways you could play this: you could fly off the handle at his intentionally crass insults or you could pay it.

You choose the latter, knowing he would soon grow bored of you if you just shrugged off his mockery, ignoring him.

You just need to buy yourself a bit more time to tell for sure if he was high or not. Then you could fuck off and enjoy the remainder of your own high as you wouldn’t be getting stoned for a while now.

Thanks to him eating all your stash.

“Uhhh, no m’lord. I-I just wanted to know how you enjoyed the manju I made. I filled them with matcha and adzuki beans…It was my first time baking them.”

Oh?

You still wanted to play games?

Sukuna’s gaze darkens at the chance to pick at you more. The more you would lie and beat around the bush the more Sukuna wanted to press your buttons.

Never getting bored of pissing you off, angering you was his second favorite pastime. You made it too easy to wind you up like a coil until you snapped like a little twig in his grasp.

All so he had an excuse to do his actual favorite pastime—punishing you.

Lacking any sort of discipline, you were more of a hot head than he was at times—which was saying something. Sukuna loved to bring you to the very limits of your sanity with his taunting of you. Only so he could watch you helplessly thrash beneath him, frustrated that you could never beat nor overpower him.

You were a curious little sorcerer who got off on edging death which was apparent from how your fiery anger quickly sparked into shameless arousal, like the massive cockslut you are. You’d be cursing Sukuna to hell before begging him to take you along for the ride.

In turn, Sukuna would bully both of your tight greedy holes, mesmerized by your filthy cunt creaming enough to soil a puddle onto any surface he happen to fuck you on.

You had to have been a succubus in a past life.

His sexual appetites were immense but you were nearly insatiable yourself. Fucked out and trembling, with your eyes barely open, you’d never stop pleading him for more until he’d fuck you unconscious.

Nevertheless, in this lifetime you were a pitifully weak sorcerer in comparison to him—however you could be considered ‘special grade’ if ranked solely on your ability to take dick.

Truly, your best quality and what has kept you alive thus far.

At least that’s what Sukuna would tell himself when the thought of you dead leaves him feeling restless and agitated. It’s why he never lets you leave the palace grounds other than with Uraume on their occasional visits into Tokyo.

Sukuna had deemed you too weak to be left to your own devices outside of his palace.

You were his plaything, to do with as he pleased—and right now, he wanted to make you absolutely lose your shit.

From the way your aura bristled, it was clear you just needed one final push.

And so, Sukuna pushed.

“HA! I could tell—”

On the verge of unraveling altogether, your brow twitches as you count backwards from a hundred in your mind to calm down—another bullshit coping mechanism from your soon-to-be-fired therapist.

100…99…98…

“—thought you filled those manju with horse shit.”

97…9—

Never failing to take the bait, you wouldn’t disappoint him this time either.

Jumping up, you wobbled on your feet but that didn’t stop you from stomping your foot in indignation with enough force to make the old wooden floorboards creak.

“THEN WHY IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID YOUR BIG HUNGRY ASS PRACTICALLY EAT THREE DOZEN OF THEM!?”

From the looks of it Sukuna was perfectly fucking fine—like you had figured he’d be.

This had proven to be a complete waste of your time even checking on him. The brief encounter had done nothing but fuck up the remainder of your high since he wanted to be such an ornery bastard about everything.

Forgetting all about your plan to not piss him off, instead you flip him off, storming away.

“LIKE THEY DON’T EVEN AFFECT YOU?! WHAT A FUCKING WA—”

Like a blur Sukuna rises as his four arms extend to ensnare you.

However lucky for you, you sense him in time to dod—wait… did you just dodge him!?

No, that's not right he must have missed.

Huh?

HE FUCKING MISSED!?

Whipping your body around, you face him.

Your wide confused eyes meet his own puzzled gaze, one that you notice is turning increasingly more red by the second to extend beyond just the color of his pupils.

You don’t even have the time to appreciate how adorably ridiculous the expression is on him before the realization hits—

—OHHHH SHIT—SUKUNA IS HIGH AS FUCK!!!

He likely hadn’t moved from that spot since he so gluttonously devoured your entire tray of edibles. In turn, as is with the nature of getting high, if you are sitting or laying down while you partake, you often don’t realize exactly how baked you are until you finally stand up.

And from the looks of it the high had just hit him like a fucking semi-truck.

Sukuna was absolutely lit.

Staggering in his stance, a look of surprise is on both of your features. You were for certain Sukuna would have fallen to the ground if not for his hand catching onto the wall beside him.

His awkward movements are akin to someone suddenly realizing how bulky and inconvenient it was to be approaching 8-feet-tall with four massive arms.

“O-Ohhhh my god, Ohhhh my fucking god! Y-You can actually get high!?!”

Thoroughly gagged, your hands fly to cover your mouth. Always one for inappropriate reactions at awkward and improper times, you can’t suppress your snorts of laughter as the reality of him actually being high settles in.

Sukuna on the other hand is currently fighting a losing battle with vertigo to find steady footing. His bloodshot eyes take on a more deadly appearance as his pupils glow red in fury to match.

“W-What the fuck did you do, woman?!”

Did he just stutter too!?

Oh shit this was too good.

You cursed yourself for not having your phone on you, but knew better to bring a phone around Sukuna. He’d broken your phones one too many times because he wouldn’t admit he was more jealous of you paying attention to your talking clock (it was TikTok) than him.

Yet at the same time, his accusations that any of this is your fault piss you off further.

“ME!? I’m not the one who just smashed over 3000 grams of weed! Pretty sure that much would even take down a fucking elephant!!”

In response, Sukuna growls as his cursed energy discharges off of him in erratic waves. Yet the intensity is not nearly as oppressive as you knew it could be.

The weed is clearly having an effect on him.

“Watch how you speak to your King, brat. I won’t warn you again.”

Dripping with sarcasm you bow dramatically.

“Oh no, how could I forget my place, Sukuna! How about you ask next time before you just gobble up all my shit? Then this wouldn’t have even happened!”

When bickering with him, you often dropped all formalities which always got you into deeper trouble.

“S-SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”

CRACK~!

Wood splintered around Sukuna, falling to the ground in a heap. Sukuna had unintentionally misfired a cleave right through the wall next to you and effectively remodeled his chambers to extend into the next room over.

A few strands of your hair get caught in the crossfires and they float in the air beside you, along with the various debris from the wall.

It’s becoming quite apparent that while high, Sukuna struggles to keep his immense cursed energy in-check and it fluctuates to match his temper.

The look of shock on your face mirrors Sukuna's, who is now staring at his hand as if he had grown a sixth finger. It’s not a finger though, it's his eye from the face on his hand, bloodshot and red. That's when Sukuna notices the eyes on his face are also bloodshot, perfectly matching yours.

“ASSHOLE! What if that fucking hit me?!”

“Well, you sure as fuck wouldn’t be alive to be screeching at me right now, woman…”

You were seething.

How is everyone still treating this like it's your fault!?

“No one told you to eat all my edibles, King Big Back!”

Sukuna growled at your insults even if he didn’t really understand them.

He was huge—of course he had a big back…?

Your words, which Sukuna deems nonsensical, only make him dizzier and amplified the almost out of body experience he was currently in. Clearly the fault of your so-called “edibles”, Sukuna couldn’t remember the last time he felt so out of sync with himself as he leaned against what was left of the structure.

Not since he’d first adjusted to being a cursed object in his very first host.

“Well fuck me then, for not realizing you were brewing poison, witch.”

“Yeah fuck you, because its just a plant! A harmless little plant! Didn’t they have hemp back in your pre-historic era, you old fossil?!”

Sukuna growls at your insults, but nonetheless considers your words.

Of course they had hemp.

Being practically native to Japan it was utilized in many trades, but this had to be a different variety of the plant. Sukuna never heard of it being consumed, as the plant had more pragmatic uses for clothing and tools.

“For practical use, woman! Not to make potions and consume like some fuckin’ degenerate.”

Your eyes narrowed.

Sukuna of all people calling anyone else a degenerate was rich.

“For the last time Kuna—it's not any kind of poison or potion! You’re supposed to be immune to toxins, remember?”

Sukuna growls once more.

True, poisons had no effect on him.

If what he consumed was in fact just a plant, and nothing imbued with venom nor curses, then perhaps this didn’t make the cut?

Although Sukuna is sure the after-consumption effect has to be akin to something poisonous, since for the first time in likely what had to be a thousand years, the unfamiliar sensation of nausea crept up his throat.

Stepping back inside his chambers, he teeters unsupported on his feet before dropping down to a seated position. The uncoordinated clumsiness of his actions causes the room to shake, sending more fragments of the now-destroyed wall crumbling around the both of you.

Dare you say it, you kinda… feel bad for him?

Sure you were still pissed at him, and in no way were you about to accept responsibility for this…but in this state he looked sort of, well, pathetic.

You didn’t think you’d ever be using that word to describe Sukuna, who’d time and again proved to be more fearsome than the beasts of nightmares.

Yet at the moment he was definitely giving off more sad Hello Kitty vibes, rather than a monstrous primordial tiger. All four eyes on his face were dilated to comical proportions and the tired scowl he wore was more akin to a toddler’s pout.

It was… cute?

Upon further appraisal, as he sits with arms and legs crossed like a child after a tantrum, you decide he definitely looks cute.

And dare you say even—baby girl?

Not like you could ever tell him that though.

You’re sure if you called him that, no matter how weak and uncoordinated he was now, Sukuna would somehow muster the willpower to wring your head right off your pretty little neck.

Regardless, having Sukuna be so weakened, even temporarily, was unsettling to say the very least.

“I-I really didn’t think you would eat them, Kuna. You don’t even like human food!”

Your voice takes on a more apologetic tone as you begin to inch over to him.

Dropping down on all fours, you cautiously crawl closer bit by bit in a similar fashion as to how one would a wounded beast you were scared might lash out—even if you were only trying to help it.

“I don’t ever fucking recall saying that, brat.”

Sukuna hisses but the fatigue was clear in his tone. The bite in his words hardly evoked the blood-curdling fear he was so easily capable of under normal circumstances.

Sukuna closes his eyes in exasperation, which consequently has you rolling yours.

Bulllllllshit!

Every single thing that man tried, he hated!

Well, every single modern thing.

Oh fuck, they had manju back then too, huh?

Stopping once you are directly in front of him, you peer up at him with big doe eyes, sweet and apologetic.

But Sukuna isn’t falling for it—or he didn’t want to at least.

Cracking open an eye at you before closing it again, Sukuna turns away from you, nose upturned.

Urgh, what a big diva!

You almost want the normal, insanely irritating, Sukuna back instead of the blitzed sassy creature before you—almost.

“Listen Kuna, you did eat a whole shit load... More than any grown ass man I’ve ever seen to be honest…”

You shook your head and mumbled the last part under your breath, ignoring his sassy gripes, as he definitely still heard you.

“Ok, so I have literally zero clue as to how long your high will last… but I mean hmm… why don’t you try RCT?”

Sukuna stares daggers at your sheepish expression.

You had to be an idiot.

If Sukuna could focus his cursed energy enough for RCT he would have fucking done it already! Not to mention, take his sweet time in punishing you too. However, all that would have to wait until the disorienting effect wore off enough to make that possible.

For now though, Sukuna just wants to be alone.

This 'weed' was having strange effects on him, he is growing inexplicably nervous to be in your presence for some ridiculous reason.

“Leave.”

“Nope.”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes flare and stare you down the best they can through his red-eye squints.

“I gave you an order, brat. I won't ask again.”

Sukuna tried his best to deliver his threats in the bone-chilling tone he was so well known for, but it falls flat, yet again, thanks to him being higher than a pair of perky tits.

His frown, and thereby his pout, intensifies at his current ineffectiveness.

“I can’t just leave you though, Kuna…”

Thinking him docile enough, you slowly crawl into his lap and thread your arms between the two sets of his own, gazing up adoringly at him. Sukuna allows you to do so without fuss, although he doesn’t return your embrace nor does he look at you.

His own head swirls too much—especially with how his skin begins to tingle just from the sensation of your warm body pressing against his.

“You need me! What if we were to get attacked by jujutsu sorcerers right now? I’d have to protect you!”

You don’t even try to suppress your giggles this time when your body is shaken by the disgruntled rumbles from his chest.

“Tch—with the few measly crumbs of cursed energy you do possess, you can’t even protect your own fucking self—”

“Hey!”

“—so if that happens, then were both royally fucked.”

Okay, so you weren’t anything close to a super strong special grade sorcerer. But you think you’d be somewhere around grade 1 now, so you could hold your own against most!

At least enough for you both to escape!

You’d only really be in trouble if that sexy white-haired blue-eyed sorcerer, Gojo Satoru, showed up. Although from the way he winked at you the last time you saw him, saying ‘you’d be prettier as a Jujutsu High teacher instead of one of Sukuna’s lackeys’, you’re pretty sure if you flirted hard enough you’d be okay at least.

Still, you actually liked living with Sukuna a lot more than you cared to admit. Moreover, ‘Jujutsu High teacher’ would qualify as you having to work an actual job—yeah nah, fuck that.

You’d stay with your ancient asshole, thank you very much.

Bringing your attention back to Sukuna, who had since closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning, you poked a finger into his cheek.

Sukuna ignores you, but you persist.

Your little finger presses deeper and deeper until a mouth forms on his skin to snap at you, causing you to snatch your hand back before you lose said finger.

“Worry about protecting yourself, brat! You’re aware when this wears off, I’m going to fucking rip you apart and feed you to the mouth on my stomach limb by limb.”

Unphased, you flirtatiously bat your lush lashes as one of your hands slipped through his robes to caress the spot where his mouth forms.

“Awe Kuna, if you have the munchies that badly and want me to ride your stomach again—all you have to do is ask. I’ll let you eat me right up.”

His abs clenched ever so slightly from your touch.

“Urgh, woman, you should go enjoy the last hours of your life while you still can…”

His threat dissolves into grumbles, still making no attempt to push you off.

Well, if you were in fact about to go to glory as soon as Sukuna could control his powers again—you might as well enjoy yourself while you still can.

“Yeah, yeah, Kuna—but until that happens just relax, okay? Let’s have some fun, eh? That’s the whole point of being high in the first place!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes but allows you to push him back to the floor. His body feels so heavy and laying down was so much more agreeable than sitting up in his condition.

Still, he couldn’t see how this out-of-body-like experience could be fun.

Fun for Sukuna was killing.

Sukuna enjoyed most of his thrills relishing in the screams of his victims as he bathed in their blood which poured so liberally through his deadly claws.

He even has a pool of blood for god sake!

Well had—until you nagged him pretty much to death, complaining that you couldn’t be expected to bathe in the garden koi pond. As a result, Sukuna had Uraume restore the hotspring to its original state —if only to get you to shut the fuck up.

Hn, now that he considers it, you are way too much fucking trouble than your crazy-ass, tight-ass, lil’ cunt was worth—his current predicament being the ultimate testament to that.

“This isn’t fun.”

It’s your turn to smirk as you straddle him.

“It will be!”

For me at least.

You don’t say that last part out loud though.

You’re smiling down at Sukuna playfully, pulling your tank top from overhead to reveal your simple pink cotton bra with little flowers printed on them.

Sukuna, who had since draped an arm over his face, regards you skeptically from under his muscular limb with his lower set of eyes.

“And just what do you think you’re doing now, brat?”

“What does it look like asshole? I’m gonna fuck you.”

“And if I tell your bratty ass to fuck off and die?”

“Well, for one—it’s not like you can stop me. And two—when has me saying ‘no’ ever stopped you?”

You stare down at him sweetly.

“Slut.”

Sukuna snarls, turning his head in a huff once again.

Checkmate.

This was the ultimate win as far as you’re concerned.

Sukuna had his way with you entirely when you fucked. He was always in control—of everything. Not that the slutty masochist in you ever minded, but you wanted a turn to be the dominant one for once and control his pleasure.

Hell, if you knew marijuana would have this much of an effect on him you would have given him some sooner!

Besides, you could tell by the way his robes rose on the lower half of his body he was already feeling its euphoric effects.

Yet you had no idea just how much.

Sukuna’s already inhuman perception intensifies the experience a hundredfold. His limbs are heavy, as if the floor might give way, libel to sink into the very earth at any moment.

Staring out into the garden, he could see everything in vividly intense hypervision through his dilated orbs.

Every rustle of the leaves, every movement of even the smallest creatures, and every particle in the air took on a lustrous sheen. All his senses were in overdrive, creating a strange euphoria vibrating through his body, suspending him in time—that is until your honeyed voice snapped him out of it.

“Hi~ Look at me, Kuna~~”

Soft hands cup his large face, bringing his sights back to you. Sukuna emits a disapproving grunt, or at least he thinks he does.

He’s not entirely sure.

With his attention now focused on you, everything else in the world seems to still.

The anxious throbs in his chest seem to prolong each beat, as if his heart might stop altogether. Sukuna concludes that these palpitations and irregular rhythms must be a side effect of the plant.

Has to be.

It certainly wasn’t the way the light of golden hour shimmered on your skin so radiantly, like an otherworldly ethereal creature only seen at dusk—making him feel like he was the inferior mortal in your presence.

“Don’t float away on me…”

Your voice, filled with angelic mirth, tickles his ears while your fingers gently card through his hair.

Sukuna bites his tongue, drawing out thick, viscous red liquid to suppress the needy purrs bubbling in his throat from your doting caresses.

How could he be the one to float away when you had the appearance of one who had descended from the sky?

Sukuna's lower set of hands unconsciously brace your thighs like a vice, as if to anchor you and prevent you from levitating away from him.

Goddamn, if not some potion, you had to have cast some twisted spell.

Everything about you right now was enthralling to him.

Has your skin always been this silky?

Sukuna succeeds in remaining quiet, yet fails in keeping his lower half controlled, involuntarily bucking his hips. His eagerness apparent, you rub your clothed mound over his twin cocks that stiffen beneath you.

Your hands skillfully loosen the knots in his obi to uncover his firm abs and ritualistic tattoos already covered in a sheen layer of perspiration.

Sukuna’s breath hitches when your fingernails graze over his sensitive exposed nipples.

“Watch it, brat.”

But he sounds so far away now, you don’t really pay him any mind.

You are lost in enjoying some of the far less intense, but still lingering, effects of your own high.

Humming a saccharine tune, your head tilts back as you relish the pleasurable strain in your inner thighs just from having them span over his broad pelvis. The melody serves as an accompaniment to the steady rhythm of your hips, unraveling him more by the second.

When your eyes do open again, you observe the strain evident across Sukuna’s sharp features.

You simper, wondering how long Sukuna could hold on before he fell apart completely underneath you?

Picking up tips from the royal headache himself on how to press buttons, you taunt Sukuna with your coos.

“Are ya still mad at me, Daddy?”

You’re pouting but your mischief is evident, twinkling brightly behind your eyes.

Sukuna’s own eyes narrowed at your boldness.

You just loved calling him ‘Daddy’ like the filthy whore you are—lacking in any sort of couth.

This whole situation was infuriating for him.

And as such, Sukuna wants to be mad at you—to teach you a lesson, to have you meet your death at his own powerful hands—but alas—his own body betrays him.

Your still sparkling aura exacerbates his intoxicated frustrations along with his more carnal desires as euphoria rushes through him.

His nostrils flare when the candied perfume of your sinful little cunt—already soaked untouched—saturates the air.

Fucking hell—he could practically taste you on his tongue.

“Just get on with it then, if you think you can, woman—”

Giving your rear a firm smack, Sukuna hurries you along.

“—although, I’m sure your weakling ass will give up and be begging me to fuck you within the first minute.”

You roll your eyes.

Even in spite of his breath laboring slightly, along with minor twitching spasms of his thighs underneath you—he’s still acting tough.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that. Won’t we, Daddy?”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you hop up to kick off your slippers. You take your time in removing your shorts though, hands sensually sliding them down, giving him a little show.

All four of his eyes follow the provocative sway of your hips intently, just the same as the one time you showed Sukuna what a lap dance was.

Of course he’d enjoyed it.

However, where’d you fucked up was mentioning how your previous lovers had enjoyed it too—because your twerking had lasted all of 20 seconds. Sukuna had then pinned you down, growling as he called you all manners of vulgar slut-whore. The result was you limping for the next 2 days, fuck harder than he ever had previously, angered by the thought of you ever having done that for anyone else.

However, as much as you wanted to take your time torturing him for once, you were too selfish to deny yourself. The thought of you having control when fucking him has you dripping.

Settling back on top of him, you’re on all fours facing towards his cocks. Giving Sukuna a prime view of your pussy in those cheeky pieces of fabric you called undergarments.

This wasn’t a typical view for Sukuna, who was used to looking down at you when you sucked him off from a kneeling position—so he could see exactly how those fat tears would well in your eyes as he ruined your throat when he forced your head even further down.

But this view wasn’t so bad. The growing wet spot on your panties confirms his nose had been accurate. However, you do look every bit of the fiendish whore that you are, getting so wet for him when he hadn’t even touched you.

You’re in your own world though and you audibly gasp upon peeling back the lower half of his robes. Taken aback by the thick globs of pre that gather at the very tip of his engorged cockheads. His essence pools in the folds of his foreskin until no more fluid could be contained, overflowing down his uncut length.

You’d never seen him this leaky before.

Your pillowy lips experimentally blow cool air across both tips and Sukuna hisses as his cocks twitch in your hands. Wasting no time, your tongue deviantly flattens as you lick up the trail of dribble that ran down his upper shaft.

His lower cock was hardly forgotten as your thumb completely uncovers the hidden tip. The well of pre spilling from him allows you to more easily pump his slightly girthier length in circular motions while you continue to salaciously suckle the other.

Sukuna unwillingly rewards you with an audible grunt of pleasure.

“Hnng—Y-You’re a fuckin’ cocktease! S-Suck me right, whore!”

You giggle at his faltering voice and Sukuna smacks your ass in response. His heavy hand still stings your skin even in his weakened state, making you all the wetter.

For each kitten lick, a slap to one of your plump cheeks rings through his chamber.

Sukuna is captivated by the way your flesh molds to his touch. He kneads each of your cheeks in his giant hands, leaving them warm and tingling.

The abuse to your rear goes straight to your pussy. You forget for a second that it's Sukuna, and not yourself, who is supposed to be the subservient one in this situation.

“Hurry up, brat! You seriously think a half-assed job like that is enough for me to cum?”

In response to his provocations, your warm breath salivates over his swollen glands before entirely engulfing his upper cock.

Pulling off of him with a pop you alternate taking the other one into your mouth. Sukuna flinches as you swirl your tongue around his lengths. Vacuuming your lips, you alternate between the two twin cocks.

Sukuna grits his teeth.

He had taught you to take him completely, although he always forced your throat open. He was genuinely surprised that you could do it on your own, which, to be honest, you probably couldn't have done without the weed relaxing the muscles in your neck and throat.

That’s when you hear it—the tiniest of whines—but a whine nonetheless.

“HA! See!—Kunaaaa, did you actually—”

If you could have seen his face you would have giggled at the pink that lightly dusted his features. Regardless, Sukuna isn’t one to take being bested lightly.

Sukuna hooks a finger through the crotch of your panties, yanking up roughly. From this angle, the effect only puts tension on your pussy—tugging your panties taunt and compressing your clit. You keen loudly as you release his cocks, no longer able to focus on getting him off.

“FUUHHHHCK!”

One hand keeps your panties pulled taut, another hovers over the most heat of your core, lazily rubbing over your covered entrance. Your ever increasing wet spot has him in a trance like state as it spreads to take over your entire crotch area, dampening his fingers.

RIIIIIIIP!

Sukuna tears your underwear clean off, shredding them,

Damn. Those were one of your favorite pairs of lounging panties too!

You're ready to tell him off but you never get the chance as two large fingers bully their way into your pussy, leaving you sobbing.

Even over the vulgar sloshing of your sloppy hole, you can audibly hear a rough moan from Sukuna as your core constricts around his burly fingers. Your hands and knees tremble violently as you struggle to maintain your balance.

Sukuna’s tactile sensations at its peak, he is in awe of how well your gummy walls suck his thick digits in further. The velvety ridges of your cunt was like an incubator of fiery heat—a heat that may even rival that of his own divine flame technique.

“W-Waiiiiiiit—N-No fair, K-Kuna!”

Of course, your pleading slurs go unheeded.

Like a mortal who had dipped his hand into a heavenly jar of warm ambrosia, the allure of your cunt in his intoxicated state is bewitching to say the very least. Sukuna’s hyperfixation is focused on a single-minded mission to dig out more and more milky nectar from your convulsing lil’ hole.

Your searing walls clench down when a sharp nail grazes your g-spot. Crying out, your eyes sink back into your head and your slick pours down the length of his muscular forearm.

Sukuna enjoys making a mess of you.

Your fluids splash across his broad chest, arms and a bit even reaches his face—mouth forming on his cheek to greedily lick up your remains.

Even with limited control over his own faculties, Sukuna was still able to turn you into a quivering mess.

Dammit! You were supposed to be the one in control!

You can only weakly grasp at his cocks as the motions of his fingers switch from languid exploratory strokes to fast pumps, adding a third finger and pressing a thumb into the rim of your puckered hole.

Stirring up your insides, Sukuna, to be frank, isn’t doing it for your reactions but for your pussy’s.

Mind clouded, Sukuna fully dissociates once again in his enchantment of you, he doesn’t even realize you aren’t sucking him off any longer. He is much too distracted by every response your gooey cunt gifts him.

If anyone had asked him, in his utterly toked state, Sukuna would have sworn your cunt was actually squelching out full sentences. Sukuna, of course —fully fluent in ‘Cuntanese’—understands her with sparkling clarity.

She wanted more, to cum even harder.

She’s so fucking warm, so creamy, so lewd—all for him.

Becoming more sloppy and unaware in his actions, Sukuna’s growling increases. His current frustrations centered on needing to see more of your creamy slick spurt out of you.

Somehow all four of his hands are covered in your essence now. The hands with fingers not inside your pussy or rimming your ass, spread your cheeks wider, holding them up as the remaining one pinches your clit crudely.

Helplessly, ass up, you lay your head down on one of his upper thighs. You drag your nails alongside his hips hoping to disrupt his daze, but on the contrary, it does nothing but spur on Sukuna’s mania further.

The both of you being high made the situation that much worse.

Sukuna’s fingers drive you towards oblivion, crashing into ecstasy. The edges of your vision smoldered, blurring your sight. You aren’t sure if the sun had finally set and the stars you saw were in the sky or behind your own lids, momentarily disassociating from pure pleasure.

With a scream, you cum for the second time, your eyes locked behind your skull and your legs spasming as waves of pleasure make your hips twitch uncontrollably.

Holy fuck!!! You’d never cum that hard while high before!

Sukuna finally snaps out of his enthralled reverie, only to discover you’ve been reduced to a mere puddle on his torso. Your holes are agape and swollen from his brutality, glistening with fluids that hadn’t stopped dripping onto him yet.

You practically see his smug grin, a fang poking out from his lips, just from his smarmy tone.

“Heh—giving up that easy just from a couple fingers in your cunny, brat? Thought you were gonna fuck me?”

You whine. Even if his own voice sounded a bit strained it was nothing compared to your own condition. Yet despite your rubbery limbs, you muster the strength to push your jellied body up—determined to have your way with him.

Sukuna chuckles at your persistence.

The mouth on his stomach opens to lap away at the remains of your squirt on his torso and your slick-coated thighs. The thick slimy tongue has you jolting forward with a rippling moan when it flicks over your sensitive clit.

“Heh, woman, you look like shit.”

HA! How are you going to fuck him when you could barely be touched without shaking?

Sukuna guess you’ll be tapping out before the first round is over, tch—of course you’d need him to take over.

Testing his condition, Sukuna raises his head only to be immediately slammed with vertigo rushing psychedelic colors behind his eyes. He curses lowly to himself, still pissed the plant is having this much of an effect on him.

Sukuna makes a promise to himself that he will in fact kill you, iif you leave him blue balled because of this. The high causes his cocks to ache more than ever.

“Tch—If you’re going to do it, then do it. Fuck me then, ya nasty lil’ slut.”

Sukuna was right, you are a slut.

Fucked out by his fingers or not, your still aching pussy wouldn’t be satisfied until she was stuffed full of him.

But it would still be on your terms.

Sukuna looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to move and feigning boredom.

However, his mood turns to annoyance though when he notices you only plan to take his bottom cock, he didn’t work that ass of yous ass open for nothing.

“BRAT—”

“—SHUT IT and let me concentrate if you wanna get your nut!”

You do quiet him though, once you manage to squeeze his thick cockhead into your cunt. Pussy clenching around his tip like a vacuum suction, you hear Sukuna slurp a thick wad of spit through his teeth as he grinds down on them.

It was cute, him trying not to react to you, That serves as enough encouragement to keep you from mentally succumbing to the monstrous girth entering you—for now at least.

Easing yourself lower on his fat girth, you’re panting, tongue out and hips quivering just from getting the head of him inside.

You’d learned to take him well enough, but that was when he was the one bullying himself into you. Having to mount him yourself was daunting to say the least. Only halfway in and your guts are shifting while moisture burns the corners of your eyes.

This was the exact reason you chose not to take in both his cocks.

You would struggle enough with just one of them.

His cock inside you, already pressed against your cervix, he is almost 3/4ths in and you have no idea how you will manage the rest. Suddenly wondering if Sukuna uses some kind of curse technique to fit all of him inside you without skewing your organs.

“Shiiiiit, f-fuckin’ dummy thick monster c-cock, this b-big for no f-fuckin’ reason…”

You mumble to yourself, clearly floundering.

Sukuna smirks at your labored efforts but his mask cracks as you finally surrender to gravity and bottom out on him—the resulting cry from him is somewhere between a growl and a whine.

That was the end of resistance for Sukuna.

His ultra-sensitive cock twitching in the sweltering embrace of your gummy walls, convinced his dick might melt off then and there—the heat, he decided, was most definitely hotter than his divine flames.

Once nside you, Sukuna returns his bruising grip to your hips. His trembling fingers betray the fact he still doesn’t have the capacity to regain control anytime soon.

Exhaling your own shaky breath, legs under you, you lean back. One of your arms reaching back to plant on his muscular thigh, the other pressing his unattended shaft into the soft curves of your belly, adjusting yourself so its base brushes up against your clit.

Your warmth welcomes his unsheathed cock like a soft pillow and he’s biting his lips again, blood trickling down his chin.

Although he’s still leaking more than enough pre for lubricant, you still dip your head forward momentarily to drop a large wad of dribble on the cock nestled against your curves.

Your perverse acts are the cherry on top for Sukuna, who keens out a moan so loud, so needy and pathetic, it has your own toes curling. Fueling you to milk more from him as you bring down your hips harder, morphing The Curse King to goop beneath you.

Your own whimpers are just as obscene from the sight of his length extending past your belly button. It was surreal to see a distinct outer visual of just how deep his inner cock is inside you, you could feel them press together through your skin.

God, he was nearly in your ribs.

“S-Shiiiiiiit—M-MOVE! Ya f-fuckin’ dumbass brat!”

Sukuna yells at you, speech slurring, as his nails prick into your skin slightly.

You chose not to sass him this time though, too needy for it as well.

Establishing a rhythm, if you had the capacity to imagine anything beyond how his cock was spearing you open between your thighs—you might have mused that any curses in his palace—Uraume especially, must be absolutely terrified at what has their fearsome master is sobbing so wretchedly.

You’re thrilled at the idea of having transformed the most powerful cursed sorcerer into the crumbling virgin-like man beneath you.

You feel your body tremble as his swollen member throbs intensely inside you, causing you to sense the rhythmic pulsation of his heart resonating deeply within your being. Sukuna's face, usually composed, now displays an unexpectedly stressed expression, which only adds to his adorableness.

Yet, your own eyes were crossing so bad you couldn’t even enjoy your victory like you want.

Desperately moaning, you’re lifting yourself up and down, riding him in earnest as you fuck yourself dumb on his huge girth. Just one of Sukuna’s cocks were so intoxicating and you realized, the privilege of actually having him fuck you instead of you doing the work.

In order to guarantee both of your pleasures.

But you are hardly giving up—slippery fluids create delicious friction as his top cock also slides over your swollen clit. Your tits bounce lively every time your tight soggy pussy devours his cock back down to the base. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room, only overshadowed by Sukuna's unusual cries of pleasure.

Your inner thighs ache from exertion but you are in the zone now. You’ve willingly become your own torturer as you impale yourself on him.

Mind floating away as you treat his cock thrusted against your belly like a fidget toy. Your nails mindlessly rim the edges of his foreskin before grasping the tip of his cockhead, sliding the last bit of skin down to fully expose his angry bulbous tip. You squeeze him tightly while your other hand comes from behind you to pump the base.

While Sukuna’s lower hands still desperately hang on to your hips, he's since thrown one of his upper hands over his face much to his chagrin. The other, claws fully extended, proceeds to tear up the tatami matting of his floor.

Sukuna’s pitchy whimpers and badly suppressed whines have you so hot you forget yourself once again. Chasing your own pleasure, you pump his upper cock like slippery reigns as you ride him.

And that is exactly what breaks him.

Peeking out from under his forearm, Sukuna observes how your head is like a bobble, lulling with your movements as your slackened jaw so dumbly seeps drool down your body. All thought leaving your silly little head, babbling nonsensical coos and praises for his big cock ruining you.

Despite not being in control, Sukuna still feels a strange wave of warmth spread in his chest from watching you fuck yourself completely fucking stupid on him. The feeling instantly has his balls tightening, resulting in his upper cock twitching so violently that it even catches your fucked out attention.

You glance down just as his engorged length finally relieves itself, spurting out a geyser of cum all over you.

Sukuna releases a moan that is husky, deep and guttural—quite literally guttural—as he had just moaned from the mouth on his stomach. His upper cock is still spraying a hefty load of cum that covers your stomach, thighs and some even shooting up to hit you right below your eye.

Your eyes widen.

“Did you just moan from your tummy!?”

You’re hardly in the position to tease him though, disheveled and covered in his sticky essence.

You were quite the mess in your own right—heh, but you still weren’t the first to cum!

Sukuna glares at you, panting through his scowl with watery eyes.

Leaning forward, you continue to taunt him, keeping your hand firmly around his now flaccid member. Sukuna flinches and hisses, attempting to swat your hands away, but he finds himself even more weakened than before, unable to pry you away.

“Hmm, are you trying to tell me you prefer my hands over my pussy?l Or are you just this much of a slut for getting your nasty foreskin played with, Daddy?”

His lower cock pulses at your words, still painfully hard inside you, reminding you of your own needs. You don’t wait for Sukuna’s response before you’re back bouncing on him with increased fervor, pulling at your neglected tits and still giving him shit.

“C’mon Daddy, talk to me. You love it when your lil’ slut rides you while she’s all sticky, covered in your cum, yeah?”

For emphasis your fingers swirl shapes into the streaks of spunk on your belly, sloppily writing out the Kanji for “Sukuna” over your womb.

Sukuna’s face beet red from the anger and shame of having been reduced to a mere plaything for you.

Writing his name on you with his cum!? Fuckin’ debased, foul, nasty wh—

“Oh my, you’re backed up, Daddy. I can feel you twitching—a-ah!”

You snap him out of the turmoil of his thoughts with the lazy lust-filled evil saturated in your voice as you moan out more torturous, mind melting words for Sukuna.

“Y-ou’re gonna have to tell me before you cum, Kuna, kay? You spray this much inside me, with this thick monstrous cock of yours—you’ll get me pregnant, ya know. You wouldn’t want that—or do you?”

Your fingers play in his essence on your belly once more, circling the Kanji cum scribbles of his name branded on your skin.

“Bet ya wanna fill my tight lil’ pussy to the brim—force me to carry your lil’ curse-spawn-terrors—make you a real daddy, Daddy. You’d like that, huh?”

Sukuna’s sweat slicked hands struggle to hold onto you, throwing his head back so he doesn’t have to look at you.

He can’t keep you in his sights as he can’t stop the vision of you, being completely made his—belly full of his growing seed and tits full of milk—from invading his mind.

Dizzy, Sukuna can only think with his cock as you ride him towards nirvana. He’s almost at his greatly diminished limit again, his stamina now a joke of his usual.

Chasing your own high, you rub at your clit vigorously while you grind yourself against him. Your pussy spasming around his length that stretches you so well. Body wrecking itself with pleasure, your cries grow louder and more desperate.

So close. You’re so close. So clo—

But Sukuna is first yet again—crooning out a choked roar as he cums again, this time inside you.

With no warning....asshole.

Nevertheless, the satisfying warmth of his seed bursting against your cervix has you moaning from the overwhelmingly full feeling in your guts. Creampie frothing out of you, gathering at the base of his cock.

You were low key surprised that you were able to goad him into doing it at all. You weren’t seriously trying to get pregnant—just tease him a bit. You didn’t know he’d be this into breeding fantasies, as even though you are on birth control Sukuna for damn sure didn't trust any human pill to stop his cursed seed, always pulling out.

“W-Woah, this makes it, what? The second time you’ve cum before me—and inside me now too!”

The streaks on Sukuna’s furious cheeks leave behind evidence of the few tears you’d managed to fuck out of him.

“Aweee Kuna, should I call ‘Baby’ now? Only babies cry and cream before Mommy does.”

Sukuna chest heaves, staring death at you as he gives you the finger—one of the few modern gestures he’d picked up.

You laugh, although your body winces as you slide his thick softening member out of you.

Globs of your shared fluids drip out of you and onto his torso when you finally will yourself to stand-up over Sukuna, smugness radiating in your whole demeanor.

Desiring to remove that smug expression from your face, as well as your head, he cannot recall a time when he was defeated to such an extent since he was last imprisoned and his fingers were scattered.

Teetering on your cramping legs, you delight in your victory nonetheless. Taking your time in soaking up the image of him, grumpy, soiled, and flaccid, imprinting it in your mind to throw it in his face the next time he decides to get sassy with you.

You know he’s likely going to kill you for what you were about to do, but you’d never get a chance to do something like this again.

Besides, he surely has weed dick now given his still flaccid cocks and you still need to come!

Sauntering to stand by his head, your soft foot presses down on his clavicle, prompting Sukuna to bare his teeth while a clawed hand comes to wrap around your ankle.

“Heel, Kuna. You still have to make me cum.”

“I don’t have to do fucking shit but make good on my promise to rip you apart once this bullshit wears off.”

You pay him no mind as your foot shifts to raise his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze while your fingers swiftly glide up your inner thighs to spread your pussy lips. His cum still trickling out from the creamy plug that is visibly filling your center.

“Eat it.”

Sukuna looks at you skeptically, like you just lost the little remaining sanity your crazy ass had in the first place.

Who the fuck did you think you were?

To one—have him take a command from you, and two—actually think he’d let you dominate him in such a way.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Sit on my stomach and I might let you cum, brat.”

“Nuh-uh, Kuna—I wanna ride your actual face. It’s the least you can do after you came before me twice!”

Trying not to visibly wince, Sukuna was so over your nagging and constant reminders of how weak he was while high, trying to tune you out.

“...and then inside me without warning—like you don’t give a fuck if I happen to get pregnant!”

“I don't, get pregnant.”

“I—wait…WHAT?!”

You must have heard wrong.

Sukuna would want a lobotomy before a kid.

He always pulled out.

He just did not tell you to get pregnant.

No way!

Sukuna growls, he’s admittedly getting tired, but it's clear you wouldn’t give him any rest until you came once more. Well, at least with a mouth full of pussy he couldn’t say anymore wildly embarrassing shit he didn’t mean.

He really didn’t want kids, but picturing you pregnant made his dicks so unfathomably hard in the moment, it was confusing, not to mention infuriating. However, the last damned thing Sukuna wanted to do was talk about his slip up.

Left with no choice but to eat you out nasty enough for you to forget all about it.

“I SAID—If you don’t want to get pregnant, then park that ass of yours on my face, bitch.”

You bristle at Sukuna calling you a bitch, yet you let it pass once all four of his arms yank you down to sit you directly on his face, his tongue plunging straight into your gooey cunt.

And true to his skills, the conversation was the last thing on your mind, having been scrubbed of all thoughts once you felt his hot mouth consuming your sensitive flesh.

Sukuna's tongue traces torturous circles on your clit, before grazing it with sharp canine, prompting your hands to delve into his unruly locks. The grunts that escape Sukuna's lips as you tug on his hair intensify the pleasurable tingling in your pussy, compelling you to pull even harder.

To your delight, what his primary tongue lacks in girth compared to the one on his stomach, it makes up for in dexterity. Sukuna laps, swirls and twists through your folds. His tongue darts in and out of your wet slit so vulgarly leaking his cum, sending tremors up your spine.

Choking on your whimpers, your hips can’t stop shaking and Sukuna has to brace your thighs down to keep you in place. Sukuna wasn’t about to let you run from it now, not after all the shit you put him through.

You begged to cum in his mouth—so you are going to cum in his fucking mouth.

You cry out when a hand reaches up to manhandle your chest, pinching at your nipples and rolling them between his gruff fingers. The pair of hands on your thighs move to your ass, gripping your flesh overflowing in his grasp.

Gasping, your mouth falls open, when his fingers massage your ass, spreading it open as he tilts you back to spit into your hole. Replacing his own mouth with one on his hand as he returns his attention back to your savory lil’ cunt.

Shiiiiiit!

Feels so good, you’re so close to cumming again. Your body trembles, the fire inside you spreading from your core to your fingertips as your face contorted in pleasure.

“Su-S-Sukuna, pleeeaseee, Daddy.”

You’re not even sure what you are asking for at this point, you just want more of it.

More of everything.

Sukuna, obliges you.

Losing himself in your lust, his panting becomes more wet and ragged. He’s painfully aroused once again, this time simply from listening to your whiney pleas. Sukuna’s tongue digs into your cunt deeper, scooping out his own cum and devouring it along with the continuous flow of your own fluids gushing out of you.

Your taste is much sweeter, cutting the unpleasant taste of his own salty spunk, so Sukuna relentlessly sucks more out of you.

Sukuna is so caught up in giving you pleasure, he’s completely unaware of the fact he’s now humping the air, cocks flinging pre on his abs as they sway against the imaginary friction.

“K-Kuna, I’mma—shiiiiit—cum!”

You clench a fist full of his hair, nails digging into his scalp. You continuously buck your hips forward, your clit brushing agonizingly up against his nose. Quivering, glorious waves of pleasure wash over you, Sukuna knows all your pleasure spots as he easily takes you to the very heights of your ecstasy.

Sputtering moans nonsensically, you nearly slip off Sukuna completely when you tilt back too far. You unintentionally end up choking him as you catch yourself by grasping onto his neck for support.

Sukuna, caught off guard, gags. The intense vibrations from him choking on your pussy as he heaves for air tips you right over the edge. Your world washes white as you cum, thighs and hips and convulsing.

Outlasting you this time by a hair, Sukuna cums hard, his milky fluids jetting out from his cocks to spill onto his stomach—shooting up as far as to land on your back.

Dazed from your orgasm you don’t actually realize he'd cum again until you actually slip on the mess he’s made when you begin to climb off his face.

“D’aww, Baby done messed himself bad this time, huh?”

“Perish.”

Weariness seeps through his tone, betraying the fatigue that weighed on him after cumming even harder than the previous two times.

Silence fills the space as neither of you noticed before how the sun had long since set. The soft moonbeams were the only source of light in his chambers, illuminating the space more than usual, due to the now destroyed wall.

Your bones feel like mush but you still manage to grab Sukuna’s discarded robe, using it to somewhat wipe off your bodies.

Sukuna doesn’t register how intensely he’s staring at you, having dissociated once more.

His arrogance is replaced by a strange look of infatuation—well strange for him.

Sukuna is lost again, charmed by your shining aura in the lunar light. The very essence of your soul glows iridescently to him, even in darkness.

He muses there’s not a being, human nor curse, as captivating as y—TCH, THE FUCK?!

Whatever you gave him was turning him into a real fuckin’ sap, thats for damn sure.

Sukuna needed this nightmare to be over, and have neither of you ever speak of it again.

You on the other hand are doing your best to fight the urge to bashfully shrink away. There were typically only 3 emotions that ever appeared on Sukuna’s face: brooding, predatory or straight up hostile.

Him looking at you this way is freaking you out.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Sukuna exhales, exasperated.

He doesn’t know what to do with you. His troublesome lil’ human that, for some insane reason, he’d formed an attachment to beyond using as a cocksleeve.

“Then you’re a dumb slut who likes to fuck weirdos, brat.”

Shoving your face into his neck, you inhale the scent of his skin and your sex.

“Got me there, Daddy.”

Nibbling up to his chin, one of his arms wrap around you, bringing you impossibly closer when your teeth graze over his sweat slicked Adam's apple.

Grinning at him, you lick up any of your essence lingering on his face.

“You know, I’m going into the city with Uraume next week—I could get some more of this shit, we could actually smoke it next time, hm?”

“You could also be a corpse scattered in a million pieces by then.”

Although Sukuna’s yawns sound more like roars, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at his displays of weakness any longer. The edible enhanced the stated feelings of the after sex high, amplifying it a hundred fold and making him unusually docile.

Even if Sukuna could now understand why mortals do this for “fun”, he personally just never wanted near the stuff again—let alone in his fucking palace.

But he’d fight you over that later.

“Moreover, I will literally never eat any of your concoctions again.”

You’re yawning too, the effect being contagious as the question absentmindedly slips from your lips.

“...Hm, s’that so? *yawn* ….Well why did ya in the first place, Kuna?”

Tsk, stupid woman—because you made them, of course.

Sukuna said it in his head.

Sukuna swore he said it in his head.

But when you immediately bolt upright, eyes expanding like saucers, he knows he fucked up.

Attempting to recover, he tacks on a brash comment. Remarking on how he knew consuming them all would piss you off—oh and it had—but in this case, the damage had already been done.

Concern flashing across your eyes, you hurriedly brush your fingers through his rosy locks. Picking and prodding, firmly turning his head from side to side, until Sukuna’s own hands entrap yours, pausing your frantic actions.

“And just what the fuck are you doing now, woman?!”

“Checking for stitches.”

Sukuna gives a disgruntled snort, scoffing at your foolishness.

“I’m serious! Kenjaku’s not in there with you, is he?!”

“You must actually think I won’t kill you, brat….”

You giggle softly, satisfied with his answer as you peck tender kisses on his lips but Sukuna is unmoved.

Sukuna hardly ever kisses you to be fair—but you’d just fucked him to tears!

The least he can do to repay you is a kiss!

“C’mon Kuna, stick out your tongue a lil’ for me.”

Sukuna stares at you unamused.

“Aweee—Please, Daddy?”

Your words hang in the air, a rebuttal poised on the edge of his lips.

But upon meeting your bright angelic eyes, Sukuna in a moment of unexpected impulse, closes the gap between you.

Your lips clash as you breathe in one another. The kiss is less urgent than your earlier cravings, but just as filled with desire. A tumultuous dance of tongues and teeth, fueled by some magnetic pull that would likely never be vocalized in words—yet you still feel everything Sukuna leaves unsaid.

You smile once he allows you to pull back for air, blowing a kiss at him before resting your head back on his chest. Your body easily molds over him and his remaining arms snake around your form.

All of Sukuna’s eyes were closed, the welcome heaviness behind his lids extending down through his entire being.

Honestly, this is the most at peace he’s been in centuries.

“Mmm…one more question, Kuna?”

Of course, you would be the one to disturb that though.

“Only if you promise to go the fuck to sleep after, brat.”

You nod into his chest, your hands only cupping a tiny part of his biceps as your manicured nails trace along his tattoos.

“How’d they taste?”

Seriously?

You’re fucking insufferable.

But Sukuna is way too over it all to fight you right now. His entire body feels akin to a giant sandbag with every passing second.

“Decent. Now sleep.”

Your shrill squeal has him regretting his compliment immediately.

“Aweee Kuna, Daddy! You big softie! Next you’ll be telling me you love me, huh?”

Tsk, and this is exactly why Sukuna would fuck you unconscious—so he didn’t have to put up with your nonsensical overly emotional prattling after. The intimacy of pillow talk has him queasier than the vertigo he’d experienced earlier.

“I loathe you.”

“Love you t—”

Faster than you can react, his powerful hands move, grappling your head down and clamping over your mouth instantly.

“SLEEP!”

Listening to the grumbles resonating in his chest from Sukuna's unintelligible muttered curses, you hum contentedly with his hand over your mouth, a simple ghost of a smile lingering on your lips as you ease into a comforting slumber.

The next morning, you are stirred awake by blinding sunlight.

Still lethargic from the night before, and totally not a morning person, you try to roll over. Yet you find yourself unable to move.

Huh?

Wanting to rub your eyes clear of sleep, you become aware that your hands, for some reason, are behind your back and are also immobilized.

Panic begins to set in. You fear it might be a bad bout of sleep paralysis—that is, until you hear Sukuna’s dark voice bellow over you sarcastically.

“Oh? What’s this? The lazy whore finally arises…”

Heart pounding anxiously, your bleary eyes open to the vision of Sukuna’s form towering over you next to his bed.

Ok, at least he had the decency to—

A flash of red catches your eye.

Oh, fuck…

Entangled in the shibari frog-tie position—you are bound in complex knots. The thick silk crimson ropes intricately weave their way around your naked body.

Tied with seasoned precision, the visually striking pattern of the ropes accentuated your body’s serpentine contours. Knees bent, your plump thighs are spread wide and apart, which secure to your calves.

You feel a chill run through you as the early morning air breezes past your cunt, fully exposed as the ropes are the only thing adorning you.

Equally excited as you are terrified, your squirms cause the diamond cut pattern to imprint deeper into your supple skin. Shivering under his smolder, goosebumps erupt across your skin and fat tears well on the edges of your eyes.

Sukuna sinks low to crouch over you.

“Now, now—”

His powers fully restored, the depraved smirk Sukuna wears is the most chilling you’d ever seen.

“—you didn’t delude your silly little head into thinking I wouldn’t get my turn, now did you?”

Sukina cups your face, the mouth on his hand savoring your tears.

The harsh reality donning upon you as to how fucked you really are in this situation right now.

Shifting his grasp to squeeze your cheeks, Sukuna forces your mouth open.

Fully awake, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as Sukuna unveils a platter—the same platter bearing the last remaining manju edible.

“Now fucking say ‘ahh’ for Daddy, brat.”

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

» a/n: what you think of 420 Sukuna? Hopefully it wasn't too long/dragged on? this is meant to be a one shot btw. im really not trying to do a p2 (please, lmfao i cant). i still have a toji 420 fic half written and an idea for nanami but putting those on the back burner to finish another installment of otaku!gojo or nerd geto p2, one of those will be next. i promise! taglist will be in reblogs.

comments & reblogs make my coochie cream

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wyvernest · 7 months ago

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cregan stark x f!targaryen!reader

previous(first) part - next part | all chapters list

>Queen Rhaenyra has sent you away from the brewing war to safety since your brother, Jacaerys, has secured the Pact of Ice and Fire. You have to honor it by marrying Lord Cregan Stark.

cw: slow burn, fluff, eventual smut, angst, follows book events with slight deviations, im planning to let jacaerys live! every chapter is around 2k wc

chapter cw: tension, fluff, a little angst, they are starting to fall for eachother

“The ceremony will be held tomorrow.” Cregan’s deep and steely voice rings with an imposing echo onto the stone walls of the great hall of Winterfell. “My lady is worn from the journey.”

Although the order seemingly held some benevolence to your sore legs and southern blood barely adjusting to the newfound cold, his voice feels so detached that you find yourself wondering whether he truly did care for your spirits, or if he only wished it as a polite formality.

“I will take my leave before sundown, sister.” Jacaerys places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I must be back at Dragonstone before the new moon.”

“Ill news?” you ask, already troubled and feeling incapacitated from protecting and helping your family.

“Ser Criston Cole marches on Duskendale lands. I must be present at the council to take action.”

“What about me?” You worry, and only after speaking do you realize how stupid the question was.

Jacaerys takes a moment to reply, evidently not wanting to make you feel more secluded than you were.

“I will not make any decision that you wouldn't have in my stead.” He decides, “I will send you ravens to inform you, and represent you.” a pause, “unofficially.”

There is nothing more to be said. Any words he could sweeten end with the same inevitable finale. No raven could fly fast enough to deliver your ideas soon enough for the Greens not to gain an advantage over the reluctance of your team.

You are a pawn. Your dragon is a pawn. And you will only read about the war as if it were history before you could contribute.

“I understand.” You manage to let out without showing how disturbed you are and possibly making the northern lords think that you were terrified to marry their leader.

With a hug too frail to even begin to express how much you will miss him, your brother mounts his dragon after the welcoming festivities in the great hall and takes off with a blow of wings that normally would have had you taking a few steps back from Vermax.

But now it didn't matter anymore. You watch as your only friend dissolves into the skies thick with white clouds, becoming nothing but a raven in the distance.

Suvion cries out, a sharp, strained screech that only pain as great as yours could have caused, and the clouds answer, though you cannot see him anymore.

You are taken aback at the feeling of heavy pelts placed upon your shoulders, and only then you realize how cold you are. Your frigid fingers reach around your own neck to grasp at it and keep it from falling.

“The cold is treacherous. One moment you may think you're warm, and the following, your heart stops.” Cregan comes to stand next to you, looking away to where Vermax had disappeared.

“Thank you, my lord.” You speak coyly, quietly, so he wouldn't catch the crack in your voice and think you weak and soft. Perhaps in a different situation, you would have blushed at his kindness, but the ice wall you felt between you and him was now more palpable than ever. Alone, with a stranger.

“You should come inside.” He insists, but it is not advice, it's a courteous command.

Without a word, you turn and listen. You are escorted to your chamber in the castle, and as you pass through the halls, you look around like a lowborn in a dragonpit. At least that's what it must look like, but in your heart it was storming; how different the place was from what you have known your whole life, the people, the sounds in the yard, the very air of the keep.

He stops in front of your door, beckoning you inside.

“Send for me should you need anything your handmaiden cannot provide.”

His voice is softer, as if trying to indulge you and your loss. As if he understands.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Cregan.”

You do not know for certain if there truly is a gleam of affection in his eyes as he says it, but you do know that you held yourself back from leaning forward in his arms.

Oh, how you wanted to just let it out, and how you wanted him to hold you through it. To offer some comfort that, at least, he cared for you. That he wasn't a cold hearted man with nothing warmer than diplomatic skills. Whom you would have to learn how to love the hard way. Only you know how your heart briefly yearned for him to offer you strength.

But alas, it was not proper. Too soon.

“Cregan.” You accept, and he barely hears it. Your heart sinks when he nods politely and slowly shuts the door, and it sinks further at the sound of his boots on the cold stone outside your chamber, walking away.

A terribly tragic thought slips into your tired mind; that he is betrothed to you, yet his heart belongs to another. Northerners love northerners, and the Stark men have mostly married into vassal houses of the north in the past.

No matter how loyal he is to be from now, his thoughts will always be about her, the people will always know about her.

Suvion's head appears at your window, blocking out the moonlight.

“Oh, you,” You whine, opening the windows and laying your upper body on his snout.

You hear someone gasp and scream in the courtyard, no doubt because of the dragon clawing at the walls of the castle.

“We should find some place good for you. Somewhere safe and warm.” He growls sorrowfully, as if aware.

But it doesn't last long. As quickly as he came at the window, Suvion rips away from your touch and carefully leaps out of the castle yard and up into the night sky. His otherwise white scales now partly reflect the dark of night in their shine, making it impossible for you to even tell how high up he was.

Alone again. You knew he wouldn't go far, that he only needed to hunt and come back, but you wished for leverage that was now gone.

Restless and troubled, you decide to take a stroll around the keep that is to be yours in less than a day.

You follow your curiosity back to the great hall, from where you hear whispered voices and see glimmers of lit torches.

“...of the beast. Food is scarce.”

“It will set eyes upon us.”

“Lord Glover, this is necessary. I do not wish-”

The lords at the table turn abruptly at the sight of the shadow you cast into the obscured hall.

“My lady. Is everything alright?” You hear Cregan's voice, his face away from light.

You feel embarrassed and stupid, interrupting a clearly important talk of resources that did not yet concern you and making the impression of a spoiled, uneducated woman.

“No- I didn't mean to intrude.”

“You could never be intruding on talks of our domain.” He attempts to soothe your nerves, although the implication of responsibilities is indomitable in his tone.

You approach them, carefully eyeing the other lords, feeling quite literally akin to a lizard slithering into a den of wolves. You cannot read anything on their stern faces, and it doesn't fail to make you uneasy and put your guard up.

“The dragon, my lady,” one of them starts, a man well past his youth, “he is a welcomed weapon in the North, although -”

“Although it is true that war has brought us both here, my lord, a dragon is not a weapon.” You warn with a poised expression, as respectfully as you could, yet fire dripped from your words.

The other men frowned in surprise and disapproval, but said nothing. You glance at Cregan, by your side, hoping to be faced with kindness, but instead your heart skips a beat at the sight of a cutthroat look he was throwing at the men, protective of your contribution.

“-apologies. The dragon is a welcomed ally. But livestock is barely enough to get us through what's to come. What are we to offer? Sheep?”

“We have endured harsher winters with lesser than we have today.” Your betrothed reassures, despite the evident growing concern.

“Suvion is big enough to hunt for himself, I dare say. The cold doesn't seem to burden him. There is absolutely no need to thin out the herd for him, my lords.”

You struggle to conceal a sharp gasp when his hand runs up your lower back. A way to show approval of your input, no doubt, yet you find that every crumble of affection he grants you is more than enough to spark fire in your body. Is that what you have come to?

You were worried enough that the rough stoicism of the north man wouldn't provide half the love you dreamed of, yet now you falter on that thought. If such a touch is already setting you alight, what would more do?

“A good omen. Prince Velaryon’s first visit wasn't as uneventful.”

“It is settled then. We will discuss other matters after the wedding.” He commanded, and your stomach flipped at the mention of your union.

With the lords out of the room, Cregan turns to you.

“I thought you would be resting. It's near the hour of the ghosts.” He speaks gently with a warm vibration in his voice, as if you have been wedded for years and he knows all about your practices and nature.

“I couldn't. The more I lay there waiting, the more it felt like I would never find sleep again.”

A faint smile lights up your tense visage, an instinctual way of wanting to see him soften as well.

He looks intently, clearly understanding of your friendliness, but it does nothing to soothe his brow further.

“Come. I wish to speak with you, since neither of us cannot find slumber.”

Neither of us? What is that supposed to mean?

You once again hook your arm around his, his body heat immediately warming you up and putting you at ease. He leads you into his chambers, a strong fire already lit in the hearth.

“Is this proper?”

“Whoever shall dare speak ill of my wife will never speak again.”

A shiver runs up your spine. Whether it's a pleasant or a distressed one, you cannot tell anymore.

“I know how you must feel, although it may not seem like it.” He begins, beckoning you to sit on the edge of the bed. “It's the duty that comes with the name.”

“Yes.” You agree, wanting to hear more of what he wishes to tell you. “Although my biggest concern lies with my position. I feel…” You cease before you could say something like “trapped” or “exiled”. He has been nothing but good to you since you arrived and you do not want to seem ungrateful or hostile. You do like him.

But before you could find the right words, he kneels in front of you on the floor and takes your hands in his. Your heart stops. Your brain shuts down. Gods.

“-powerless.” He untangles your mind and finishes your thought. “But you aren't. We will offer help, I do not intend to trample the oath I swore to your brother. The oath I am to swear to you.” He adds, his tone is soft and tender yet his words so meaningful and heavy, you hear them as though their echo reverberated in the entire room around you.

His thumb delicately rubs over your knuckles, his expression as stoic as ever, only his actions speak differently. He leans forward and places a kiss on the back of your hand, assuring and loving.

You draw in a sharp breath, as if you haven't felt affection before in your life.

“Cregan.” is all you manage.

“It is true that this union was made with interest. But you are not unwanted, my lady. I believe we will find more than allies in each other.”

TAGS!! im sorry for those that don't work its tumblr's fault i checked all of them multiple times

@cost234 @dracaryxzs @cherrymallowtm @ithilwen-blackwood @lady-targaryens-world @lightdragonrayne @krokietino @sukunassfinger @rey26 @beebeechaos @melsunshine @aemondwhoresworld @romeavecryst @raynetargaryan2 @fireandblood-mharmie @mitski9328373 @drwho-ess @dorkysupernova @nitimurinvetitumsposts @ghitakhnifissa @darylspersonalwhore @helo1281917 @delaynew @poochies04 @accidentpronedork @fiction-fanfic-reader @rha3nyra @wallacewillow0773638 @star-serpent @potionsclub @drwho-ess @moadvx @jellybeanstacey0519 @italianchameleon @ephemeralninon @sithapprentice @cloveradora @hawkins-2000 @thatspiderwebinthecorner

@wolvestitches @idohknow @nyxbranwenn @asteria33 @nina6708 @r-3dlips @oxymakestheworldgoround @daisyhams @notmycanoe @percyjacksonspeen

@squidscottjeans @itchkhiara @klutzylaena @heylittlelollita @scrumptiousloser @karmaswitch

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gay-dorito-dust · 7 days ago

Text

Gentle Jason my beloved, I love you so.

Jason was imposing in so many ways but gentle nonetheless.

You remembered watching him interact with children and find yourself smiling and your heart aching when he’s letting them climb all over him, or try to pull him this way and that way as though he wasn’t built the way that he was.

You loved how he’d play along with them as they grip his calloused hands, smiling softly when they talk his ear off about everything that interests them, showing genuine interest and asking questions just to see the kids smile knowing that an adult actually cared about their thoughts and interests.

You loved how he’d let them know how to get in touch with him if they were ever in trouble, never disclosing what level of trouble because you knew that it didn’t matter as Jason was naturally protective over children and the vulnerable, two specific groups that were often targeted by criminals and crime lords far too often for his liking.

You loved how Jason would stop in his steps to pet and love on the stray, malnourished animals that he comes across on the dirty streets of Gotham, his pockets filled with treats for them as he didn’t care about where they came from when he runs his fingers through their fur. Those strays will only get to experience kindness when it’s given and that’s rarely which only made you love Jason more when you saw just how big his heart is, he cares for those whom he sees himself in the most, and it made a few tears left your eyes as you watched the man you love show love that many had to you he didn’t posses.

Jason was the sweetest, most loving man you’ve ever met, a man with a heart too big for his rib cage and you loved him dearly for how he talks to children in a manner that doesn’t ignore the fact that they were smart in their own way, or how he spoke to animals with warmth and promises of affection as it rained down on the both of you.

You loved how Jason acted gentle towards you as well, how he’d gently guide you to bed when he seen that you’ve been up for far too long, or how he’d take care of you when your ill and would bury you under fluffy blankets; all the while making sure that you were taking your much needed medicine and helping you eat if you couldn’t find the energy to do so yourself.

You loved how his hold on you was strong but gentle at the same time, not in the way where he’s scared to hurt you, but more so in the way where he wanted to reassure himself as well as you that he was here for you and wasn’t going anywhere. He held you against his strong chest as you listened to his beautiful heart beat against your ear and smile, knowing that you were lucky enough to have a man as wonderful and as kind as Jason.

You just loved Jason Todd and you always would if he was this gentle and genuine all the time, your sweet angel who made himself look terrifying to keep others safe for their own sake rather then his own.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd imagines #jason grace fanfic #jason todd fanfic #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 4 months ago

Note

HI ILY!!! i was wondering if u could do a argument fic likeeeee katsuki and reader got into a argument and they are both DISTRAUGHT bc they’re so corny and in love and hate fighting but the argument was bad and they’re oh so sad whatever whatever !! and katsuki has to make it up to them EEE !! PLEASE I LIVE EAT SLEEP AND BREATHE UR FANFICS !! LOVE U CASHHH🤍

operation : trouble in paradise !

katsuki tries to get his boyfriend privileges back..

EEEE TYSM AND I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS ASK !! Its my guilty pleasure like both parties hating to argue bc they love each other so much im so sorry that’s adorable. and again ty SOOO much !!! hope you enjoy, ive actually gotten a similar ask, so that one ill try to have that come out soon !

FEM READER, katsuki is melodramatic, argument, fluff fluff despite argument, 3rd year bk squad boys !, kissing, making up yipeee, reader likes flowers,lemme know if i missed sum else !

“she fuckin’ hates me.”

for the past ten minutes he’d barged into kirishima’s room, bakugou has been moping. wallowing, even.

“no she doesn’t, man..” kirishima reassured. for the umpteenth time, he’s honestly lost count. he’d tried putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder earlier but said boy had shrugged him off angrily, grumbling out a dramatic “don’t touch me.” despite being flopped face down on his bed.

“i know her better, kirishima. yes she does.” the blonde insists, voice muffled by the redhead’s pillows. kirishima sighs, patting his friends leg before making his way to his office chair across from the bed, ignoring the muffled grumbles bakugou lets out.

“how bout you just..go apologize ?”

“i already told you i can’t. she—”

“yeah, she hates you. got it.” kirishima finishes his friends sentence, causing the blond to groan. “look dude, you’ll never know unless you try. you’ve been together for ages now.”

“a year.” katsuki corrects, he purposely forgets to mention he knows exactly how many months it has been too. kirishima nods excitedly, trying to get him out of his frankly sad state. “yeah ! so, this shouldn’t be anything man. arguments happen all the time, no matter how much you love each other.”

katsuki feels his ears burn at the word love on his friends lips, he’s told you he loved you of course. but it still felt weird to acknowledge it.

he turns just enough for his scowl to be visible to his friend, who sends him an encouraging smile.

“so what the fuck do i do then ?” kirishima grins wider, sharp teeth on display. “there we go, that’s more like ya, dude !” he exclaims. he quickly shuffles to grab a notepad strewn onto his messy desk (kirishima’s desk was so messy it made katsuki itch sometimes, a shiver almost passes through him whenever he sees the state it’s in)

kirishima drops onto the floor, placing the notepad onto his mattress and scribbling, with a pen katsuki has no idea where he fished out, a messy “operation: get your bf privileges back !!!!!!” bakugou fixes kirishima with a dead look, the other only tilts his head, still cheerful.

“what ?”

“what the fuck is this, kirishima.”

kirishima scoffs at the blonde’s dead tone, “listen man, you wanna win your girlfriend back or not ?!” bakugou squints at him, hard. but only let’s out a loud sigh. kirishima takes that as his answer and with a nod continues writing down notes.

katsuki groans to himself, looking down at his friend scribbling down his grand plan, and he better hope it works.

maybe you should call him..

no, you won’t. it was his fault you were like this anyway.

..but maybe you went a bit too far..?

ugh. you groan, rolling around in your bed. you’d tried to distract yourself by going through your tiktok feed but it seemed the world was against you or your fbi agent hated your guts. your feed was either overly cutesy couples content that made you miss your angry blond, or break up videos that made you miss him even more.

ugh. you shove your head even harder in your pillows.

you’re really trying to hold your ground, because you want katsuki to know he’d hurt your feelings, but now that you think about it you don’t even remember what you’d argued about. it was petty for sure, you’re about 80% sure it was a petty argument.

maybe you should—

you shake your head, steeling your nerves. so what if it was a dumb argument ?! that didn’t mean he could get away with everything!

“uuuugh,” you groan out loud, you miss your katsuki.

a knock at your door startles you. it must be mina, you’d texted her earlier that you were mad at your boyfriend and she’d told you that she “excepted all the deets of what his dumbass did this time as SOON as i get back !!!!” and you were waiting, maybe venting about it could make you feel better and less dramatic.

you open your door expecting to see your overly excited best friend. but instead—

flowers, almost whacking you in the face you might add, are shoved in your face before you can get a word out. you squeak in shock, they’re pretty though, your favorites. and you know only one person who knows what your favorite flowers are.

“wh-katsuki ?!”

and there he is, red faced and angry. scowl on his face and bouquet of pretty flowers in hand.

you can’t tear your eyes away from him, he can’t keep his eyes in one spot—flying from you occasionally to your door to the flowers and repeat. he blinks, you blink.

“here.” he grunts, waving the flowers towards you. “f’r you.” he glances at you.

“o-oh !” you exclaim suddenly, whisking the flowers towards yourself. the bouquet is big, it’s definitely a bit bigger than your head. katsuki searches your face to gauge your reaction“i—uhm! thank you..” you utter shyly, katsuki grunts. he shoves his hands in his pockets the moment you’ve gripped the bouquet, kicking at something you can’t see on the floor.

your heart skips a beat. tentatively, you lean against the door “didn’t take you for a flower guy..”

he scoffs, kicking the toe of his sneakers against the floor “‘m not.. but you like these, right ?”

trick question. he knows you do, you mentioned in passing these were your favorites, unless you suddenly decided you didn’t like these anymore. then he’s fucked. but he decides to continue despite the worry growing in his lower belly, the plan was already a go now.

“i—uhm, listen..” your boyfriend fumbles, he throws his head back and groans when his words won’t come out right. you give him a tiny smile, his eyes soften just a bit.

“i fucked up, okay ?” he admits, scratching at his nape “shouldn’t have said all that shit to you, or whatever..” you can tell he’s beyond embarrassed. he’d melt if he could get any redder, he keeps scratching and won’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time and katsuki who’s always the loudest in the room can barely manage a mumble. you know he means it though, he never did anything he didn’t feel like doing. you wait for him to continue and he looks at you then.

“i don’t ever like arguing with you. ever.” he insists “so jus..forgive me, kay ?” he finishes quietly. your heart jumps and leaps and you can’t stand acting cold anymore. you walk a bit closer to him, the flowers block you from fully being close to him.

katsuki’s eyes are wide as you lean in to kiss right next to his lips, you laugh at his bewildered expression and his eyes soften when he snaps out of it. he rolls his eyes, you smile wider.

“i forgive you, i’m sorry too. i don’t like arguing with you either..” you admit, katsuki reaches for your hand, you feel the tips of his fingers brush against your skin, you give it to him and he grips it tight. then he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, it’s a sweet little apology kiss that turns a bit too passionate after a while, and you pull him towards you and into your room away from prying eyes. katsuki kicks the door shut behind him and pulls you closer by your waist.

“guess i gotta—thank shitty hair..” he mumbles in between kisses, “an’ i owe him twenty bucks.”

you make a noise against his lips and pull away, raising a brow and holding his shoulders when he tries to lean in to kiss you again. “what’s that mean ?”

your boyfriend huffs “told shitty hair i’d give him twenty bucks if his shitty plan worked.”

“plan, what plan ?” you ask, katsuki squints at you, a grumbling noise comes from his throat, almost a whine.

“yer really gonna make me spell it out aren’t you..” he mutter bitterly, shoving his head in your neck. he continues, “shitty hair helped me come up with a plan to make you not mad at me anymore. i told him it wouldn’t work, he said it would, and we bet on it.”

you laugh in disbelief, katsuki chomps at your neck to silence you, squeezes his arms tighter around your stomach to make you wheeze, but you can’t stop laughing. “that’s so cute !”

“shaddup.” he growls in response. you muffle your giggles in his shoulder. katsuki grumbles some more and you run your hands up and down his back.

“well then,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his nape, his arms around you tighten. “i guess we’ll both have to thank kiri then.”

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logaenhowlett · 6 months ago

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IF ONLY YOU KNEW - L.H.

Summary: To keep up the ruse of Charles, Laura, you and him being nothing but an ordinary family, Logan shares a heartfelt memory he’s been hiding. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Logan is hopelessly in love, Charles being a shithead (lovingly)

A/N: I could not get Old Man Logan outta my mind, so this transpired from all that. I initially wrote it from the reader's perspective, but I changed it to focus on Logan's thoughts and feelings. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST | PART TWO

If looks could kill intentionally injure, then Charles would definitely have throbbing wounds all over his body. Logan shuts his eyes momentarily, attempting to calm his increasing blood pressure as listens to the old man enthusiastically accept the Munson family’s gracious invitation to dinner. He sighs, returning to the driver’s seat, avoiding the rear view mirror lest he catch Charles’ smug expression.

The ride to the Munson house is uncharacteristically quiet. The initial shock from Charles introducing you as Logan's wife subsides, leaving him lost in thought by the idea of being seen as a family. No one speaks another word, figuring that he deserves a break from Charles and you rambling on about stories to entertain Laura. Watching him angrily clutch the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white seems to be enough of an incentive to not pile on to his already shitty day.

Logan slams the door as he gets out the car, clearly agitated by the detour on their way to North Dakota. No matter how wonderful a home-cooked meal sounds, he knows they’re just wasting time by lingering. But once he sees the desperate look on the three of your faces - particularly, yours, he relents, hoping trouble would spare them for a night.

The seven of you gather at the dinner table, Logan steals a quick glance at you while Nate says grace. Laura digs in immediately, picking the food apart with her fingers and stuffing it in her mouth. Logan clears his throat and gives her a pointed look, she flicks her eyes towards you and you give her an encouraging smile.

“Where're you heading?” Mr Munson asks, looking between Logan and you.

“Oregon-”

“South Dakota-”

The two of you blurt at the same time, the Munsons pause in confusion. Your eyes widen at the sudden turn of events, a flash of panic settles on Logan’s expression before Charles intervenes.

“Oregon, then South Dakota.” He says, smiling as if nothing’s wrong.

Mrs Munson inquires him further, going off into a tangent about traveling. Logan leans back, watching Charles animatedly lie about some "vacation" plans. He stops himself from scoffing, meeting your gaze across the table.

“James?” Mrs Munson's voice snaps him from his thoughts. He looks at her blankly having missed the first part of her question.

“It’s been 8 years,” You interject, nudging his foot underneath the table, silently warning him to pay attention. “We’ve been together for 8 years.”

Logan’s eyebrows twitch at your lie. He wishes you were together, that you would want him like that. Whatever hopes he had for a relationship with you shattered the moment reality set in his mind. You don't deserve someone like him, a broken old man who's struggling to keep himself going everyday. No. He wouldn't subject anyone, much less you, to an ill-fated man like him.

“Wow! That’s almost as long as our marriage,” Mrs Munson smiles at her husband, “You have any plans of proposing, James?” Her eyebrows are raised, it’s clear she noticed the lack of a ring on you.

“Kathryn.” Mr Munson chastises.

“What? It’s a natural thing to ask!”

Logan shifts in his seat, uncomfortable by the expectant eyes on him. He directs a tight smile at Kathryn, slowly nodding his head.

“Uh yeah… just waitin’ for the right time.” He says with a tone of finality, hoping she’ll drop the subject. She doesn’t.

“8 years certainly is a long while, don’t keep her wondering too long.” She winks at you.

Logan gives her a fake laugh, noting the subtle redness on your cheeks.

“Oh! You two are adorable!” She exclaims, catching the flitting glances. “Tell me, how did you know she was the one?”

Logan takes a swig of his beer, Charles chuckles next to him and he uses all his willpower to not knock the stupid look off his face. He swallows the nervous feeling in his throat, resisting your intense gaze.

It had been hours, or something like that, since you left his side. Once you saw Storm's concerned expression, you immediately shot out of your seat, running to the medical wing of the mansion. Something must have happen to him on the mission.

Charles had sensed your distress as you made your way to the starkly-lit room. You always hated the medical wing, knowing there's no good reason why any of you would need to be here. The moment you saw Logan on the bed, you knew he had suffered enough to be unconscious. Charles kept reassuring you that he'd be alright in due time, that you just need wait for the regeneration power to kick in.

Storm kept checking on you every few hours, making sure you were taking care of yourself while you sat near Logan. She knew the both of you harboured feelings for each other in a way that was obvious to everyone except you two. She'd noted how Logan would always look for you anytime he entered a room, always made sure your favourite snacks were stocked up since the kids kept raiding the shelves, always made sure your gear was extra secure when you had to go on missions. Scott had caught on too but she secretly threatened him when he was about to tease Logan.

When Logan finally opened his eyes, he thought he was dreaming, shocked by the sight of you caring waiting for him. At that point, you had only known each other for less than a year, familiar enough to be considered friends. He didn't want to push you with flirty advances and realise you didn't reciprocate his feelings. That would've crushed him, so he settled with friendship and tried his hardest to bury his emotions around you.

His heart almost gave out when you smiled realising he was awake and he was going to be okay. And for a second, just a little second, a flicker of hope crossed his mind. But it went away when he saw Charles with the same expression. Of course, you were only there because you were worried about your friend. Nothing more.

Storm had advised him to rest for a couple days while his body recovered on its own. Pain was nothing but a sensation for him, after decades of going through utter destruction and slaughter, this was something he could drain out with minimal effort. You didn't leave his side at all. Even after he'd soothed your anxieties about his open wounds. But your response to that kept him up for days afterwards, 'I don't care if it's a paper cut or stubbing your toe somewhere, I don't like seeing people hurt. Especially you. I'm not leaving and I will be here for as long as it takes.'

It was that moment when all the chains restraining his desires let loose. His heart swelled with affection and he recognised that unmistakable emotion. Love. That stupid bastard. But he knew better than to taint your life with his scarred history.

You can’t seem to pull your eyes away from Logan as he finishes the story, keeping his focus on the plate in front of him, hating how silent the room became. Of course, he changed a few of the details to maintain the charade of being ordinary people, but the memory, itself, is something that often revolves in his mind.

Kathryn coos over his words, blown away by the sweet response. Satisfied, she turns her attention to Charles, excitedly asking about his time as a professor.

Logan avoids looking your reaction, even Laura seems taken by the memory - a tiny glimpse into your past. He coughs, ignoring the stabbing pain near his stomach. God, he hopes you won't call him out on this later. He doesn't know if he can keep this to himself any longer, especially since Kathryn had been commenting on your supposed "relationship" with each other.

The Munsons stand up to clear the table, Logan thanks them for the meal and nods his head at Charles, Laura and you, a signal to leave. Kathryn shoots down his intention of driving to a motel and insists on staying the night. Logan sees you stand up, trying to help his cause, but Charles declares you’ll leave the following morning - much to Logan’s annoyance. Your eyes follow Logan as he carries Charles upstairs, Laura right on his tail. Kathryn gives you a teasing glance snapping you out of your daze and you help her with the dishes.

Once Logan returns to the kitchen, Kathryn leads the two of you to the living room, “Here’s the couch, I'm sorry we don't have anything better.” The two of you thank her and she bids you good night, leaving Logan and you alone.

He groans, noting how the couch is hardly enough to support two people, much less someone as big as him. He certainly doesn't want to intrude on your personal space and wind up accidentally cuddling because of his subconscious impulses. Nope. That would definitely push you away.

“What’re you doing?” You ask.

“What’d you think?” He retorts, sinking into the armchair that barely fits him.

“Don’t be an idiot, your injuries are already bad, sleeping on that chair won’t do you any good.”

You stare at him across the dark room, when he makes no attempt to stand up, you sigh and lay back on the couch, turning away from him. A minute passes when you feel the cushion dip next to you, you don’t need to turn around to see the frustrated expression on his face.

The two of you lay down, backs towards each other. The only thing you can hear is the clock ticking in the next room. What Logan had said over dinner replays in your mind. You had been secretly pining over him for years and never showed your intentions, fearing rejection. So why do you suddenly have the urge to reveal your feelings?

“Did you mean it?” Your words pierce the silence and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even awake.

Of course I did. The answer leaves his mind as fast as it came. No one, over the last 8 years, ever came close to him as you did. But, he can’t tell you that, can he? Why would he want to put you through all the trouble that comes with him and his sorry life?

“Had to give ‘em something.” He mumbles, feeling his chest getting heavier.

“Oh. Yeah.. that was uh… I believed it.”

He hears you turn towards him and shuts his eyes, controlling the emotions bubbling inside him.

If only you knew.

PART TWO

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fluff #wolverine #wolverine x reader #old man logan #old man logan x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan x you #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #arya’s logan howlett

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atrwriting · 2 years ago

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selfish - frank castle x reader

hey y'all back in action with another porn no plot one shot

all i'm saying is,,, they knew who their target audience was with this (or are we just all mentally ill?)

summary: frank shows you what it means to be a real, selfish man.

informal warnings: frank is the selfish man in this, but I was the selfish woman writing this. couldn't get this out of my head as I started season two of the punisher, and frankly (haha get it -- sorry) after this scene you wouldn't be able to either

as always, the actual warnings: vulnerable frank, #sadboihrs for both the reader and frank, smut, porn no plot, choking, dirty talk, and ROUGH frank

anyway... selfish:

“what’s your type?”

the million dollar question. the one that you had been troubling yourself over for years.

“my type?” you repeated, eyeing the man who asked you. “or my pattern?”

he tilted his head in curiosity. “both.”

you chuckled. “my pattern… well, they’re usually useless. man babies.”

it was his turn to chuckle. “you like taking care of them, yeah?”

you shrugged. “i love taking care of people, but not men that de-age into babies as time goes on. did you know a guy i dated asked me how to boil water once?”

“you’re joking,” he took a swig of his beer, eyeing you. “no way that’s true. made that up.”

“i wish,” you laughed, rubbing a hand over your face. “i’m also not making it up that i stayed with him two years after that.”

“sounds like your fault.”

you nodded. “the pattern made me realize what my real type is.”

“what?”

“it’s corny.”

“say it.”

a smirk attempted to appear on your lips, but you pushed it back down. “i don’t like selfless men.”

he let out a laugh in disbelief at that. “you and every other chick.”

you chuckled too. “i heard this an analogy once… if you’re falling over a cliff, would you want your person to save you? or someone else about to fall on another side of the cliff?”

he stopped talking then, listening intently.

you kept going. “obviously, i’d want the other person saved… but in my head, when i’m all alone and there’s no one that has to be saved… sometimes it’s nice to think that someone would be so selfish that they would save me over doing what’s right.”

“you could live with that though?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, a bit of judgement lacing his words.

you shrugged. “never been the person that was saved, so i’m really not sure. it’s not that i want to be saved or anything — that’s super fucking corny. but man, a fucking masculine man, putting you over other things? deciding that in that moment, you’re what matters to him? i spend all my days being selfless, putting myself in danger so other people are saved… and i’m tired.” you took a swig of your drink. “i’m really fucking tired.”

“why don’t you save yourself, then?”

“for the same reason you’re here,” you sighed. “when have we ever been selfish, frank?”

he laughed at that, but almost scoffed. “i don’t do anything i do for anyone but me.”

you swallowed then, clenching your jaw. “so many people have wronged you… but you’ve only done what you’ve done because of how people have wronged those you loved. hate to break it to you… but you’re as selfless as anyone could be.”

he folded his lips underneath his teeth and stared aimlessly off into the distance. there were bags under his dark eyes, and no amount of sleep or beer would ever take them away. the man would never know peace, and your heart broke at that. however, it was nice to know someone was going down the rabbit hole with you.

“i don’t think i’m selfless,” he finally spoke after a bit.

you raised an eyebrow at him, calling his bluff.

“i did the things i did because my family was what was most important to me,” he admitted. “that’s selfish.”

you swished his words around in your mouth a little, and decided he was right. the spin on your words made you nod, agreeing with him. “i see your point.”

“so, what?” he asked. “you want a man that would choose you over innocent people?”

you huffed, standing. “i know you know that i never said that. i’m saying that in the back of my mind, it would be nice, just once, for a selfish man to decide that i’m all he wanted. it would be nice to know that i don’t always have to carry the weight on only my shoulders.”

he didn’t say anything then, staying planted on his seat on the floor. he twisted the bottle in his hands and listened to you.

“if i’m being honest with myself…” you began, swallowing your heavy statement. “i would prefer if they saved the innocents, but only so i could die, as i probably would falling in that situation, with a clear conscience. all i’m saying is… it’s a heavy fucking burden always doing things so i don’t feel guilty.”

you walked away then, not muttering a goodbye. frank didn’t say anything either. you heard him raise the bottle to his lips once more before you shut your bedroom door behind you.

it would be an hour or so before you heard a gentle knock on your door. there was no yelling or screaming outside, so you were grateful to hear there was no imminent danger present. in your tiny pajamas, you answered the door to find none other than frank. he was leaning against a wall in the hallway that led to your door, only a couple feet from you.

he didn’t say anything when you came face to face with him. he just stared at you, placing all of his focus on your confused face. it would be a few moments of silence before he finally stepped closer to you, and placed a calloused hand on your face.

you froze. frank castle never touched you, especially in that way.

“wanna know my type?”

you stared at him and swallowed thickly. your lips parted to whisper, “sure.”

“an escape,” he whispered back. “i know what you meant by always having the dark cloud of duty hanging above your head, ready to kill any moment of peace you happen to get your damned hands on. i’ve done everything i’ve ever done for the people i loved, and i know the only way for me to experience any fuckin’ joy is with another person.”

his dark eyes held your gaze, and you soon grew lost in them and his words. you swiped your tongue across your lips and stepped closer. you could feel frank’s breath on your chin, but you couldn’t breathe. his scent, his stare, and his fucking words were more intoxicating than any alcohol you had before.

“you want an escape, frank?” you softly asked, eyes darting to his lips.

“i do,” he stated, before he lowered his head and kissed you.

his free hand immediately came up to the other side od your face and pressed against your cheek. there, he held you in the palms of his hands as you rested your hands on his thick, muscled chest. his lips were dry and cracked, but you didn’t care. the fire that brewed from his affection was enough to fill any of the cold, dark, and lonely places inside of you and you greedily drank from anything he offered.

“you want someone to want you, darlin’?” he asked in between kisses.

you hummed in agreement, not wanting to break apart your kiss for anything — even words.

“can’t get you out of my head, sweetheart,” he spoke, dipping his tongue into your mouth. “need to feel those long legs around me.”

you whimpered at his words, letting his tongue dance with yours. you could taste the heineken on his tongue and savored every bit. “please, frank… i need to feel you so badly.”

“i’ve got you, darlin’.” he picked you up by the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around him. the pads of frank’s finger tips dug into your flesh and a warmth spread throughout you. “those fuckin’ legs.”

you would’ve giggled, but you were too consumed with the very touch of frank to even care. you pulled at his shirt and threw it over his head, sad to break the kiss for even a second. you immediately went to his neck and began to nip at the thick skin, causing a growl to rumble in the deepest parts of his rib cage.

“y’drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he grunted. “sweetest fuckin’ kisses.”

“oh, frank…” you moaned against his neck before he threw you onto the bed. you turned over onto your back to face him. he locked eyes with you as he stood over you, muscles naturally flexed as he undid his belt. your mouth watered at the sight of the fucking man before you, taking off his belt for only you. the way his shoulders, pectorals, and arms worked in the dim light of your room… that man would be the death of you. you hissed, “you’re such a tease.”

he smirked at that, throwing the belt somewhere in the distance. “think you’ve just never been with a real man before,” he replied, before engulfing you into another kiss.

frank’s hand dipped into your shorts and immediately went for your slit. your body fucking sang at finally being touched the way you needed to be as you arched your back into frank, his chest pressed against yours. when frank began to run rough circles around your clit, nothing could hold back your moans or him swallowing them whole.

“only took off my belt, and this is how wet you get?” he asked, biting down on your neck. his long, thick middle finger dipped inside of you as his thumb worked at your clit. he tapped against your upper wall and you keened into his touch, whimpering his name. “now i know it’s the men before me. barely doing a fuckin’ thing and i’ve got you like this.”

you nodded pathetically, just wanting him to continue. “it feels so good,” you gasped, bucking your hips into his hand. “please, please — don’t stop, frank.”

he leaned over and pressed his chest against yours before his lips found your neck once more. his kisses were wet and sloppy, and there was nothing better than feeling the weight of a strong man above you working at your needy pussy. his rough movements against your sensitive skin were sending you into a frenzy as if nothing mattered in the world besides frank — your world started and ended there. your body felt hot — steaming from everything this man was doing for you with barely any effort. your whimpers and gasps fueled frank’s movements as if he couldn’t get enough of them.

“such a good girl f’me,” he said before he bit down on your neck and kissed the spot. “y’get so worked up, i want to see what it’s like when you fall apart.”

“i’m so close, frank…” your voice was hoarse and full of lust, and you were about to break any moment.

“that’s it, baby, yeah,” he spoke, slipping a second finger inside of you. “cum all over these fingers baby. let me taste you after.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck —!”

your world came crashing down onto you. your strength was no match for frank’s, but with the way your back arched and body curled into him, your chests both rose off the bed. he wrapped a strong arm underneath the curve of your back as you fucking sobbed his name, holding you to him and supporting your weight.

“that’s it, darlin’,” he grunted against your ear. “yeah — that’s it. keep cumming for me, fuck…”

your hands grabbed at his thick biceps and you grew lost in his movements against the most sensitive parts of you that never ceased. your hips were rolling in circles with his fingers and your vision went hazy.

“so beautiful like this f’me,” he groaned. “might be mean and not let you stop.”

“fuck, frank,” you cried, whimpering for him. your body fell limp against his arm, and he lowered your bodies back down to the bed. during your comedown, frank kissed at your neck as his free hand ran up and down your body. his other hand continued to rub against your pussy and it was driving you fucking crazy. “let me ride you — please.”

your voice was full of desperation, and frank smirked down at you. he slipped his fingers out of you and rolled off of you onto the bed. you tugged his pants down to his thighs, not wanting to waste any time. you were so greedy, but he didn’t care. he smirked as he watched you pull down your tiny shorts. you straddled him, pressing his chest to yours, as you sank down onto his thick cock.

“my fucking god —“ you gasped, your pussy stretching around him.

frank immediately grabbed your throat and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. he placed the tips of his fingers in his mouth, and tasted your juices that remained on his skin. there you were, impaled on his cock, hovering over him as you watched the most sensual thing you had ever seen him do. his dark eyes were locked on yours, but your lips parted as you watched him taste you. only a smirk remained on his lips.

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he spoke. “now show me how she rides me.”

he roughly pushed you upwards so you stood up straight. the angle made a whimper leave your lips, as he was now fully inside of you and the deepest anyone has ever been. you planted a limp hand on his stomach, and began to roll your hips against his.

his calloused hands found your hips as he threw his head back against the bed. the tendons in his neck were on full display as he stretched his head back as far as he could. the pleasure he felt was spreading all throughout his body, and he couldn’t help but go taut at the feeling. you watched his mouth fall agape and his eyes close as a moan pushed passed his lips.

the pads of his fingers dug into your hips and pushed you forward and back. even his fingers were strong and had control over you, and you couldn’t help but willingly give everything over to him. your whines filled the room, getting lost in your own pleasure with him. there was nothing like the sight of being thrown into vulnerable pleasure with the man under you, succumbing to your touch.

“fuckin’ god —“ he moaned, raising his head back up to keep his eyes locked on where your bodies connected. “never felt so fuckin’ good.”

his hoarse voice caused you to move faster as you ground your hips against his. his hands were rough and desperate as they pulled you up, down, back and forth — until you didn’t know which way was anything. all you knew were the directions of frank’s hands, and you followed in suit as he dragged you down another road of ecstasy.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he groaned. “never enough for her, huh? needs more, even after what i did?”

“yes, yes,” you whimpered pathetically. “your cock feels so good, frank. so fucking good.”

“yeah, darlin’, that’s it,” he grunted, brown scrunching together. “such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”

“fuck, frank — don’t say that,” you cried loudly, biting your lip. “feels too good when you say that — i can’t cum yet.”

he immediately reached for your neck and pulled you down to him. you gasped at his rough touch, but your hips never stopped. he bent his knees so your ass could bounce off of them, giving you more leverage. his cock curled deeper into you, hitting your cervix.

“oh my — god —“ you sobbed so close to his lips.

“nah, baby, that’s not how this works — you’re gonna take everything fuckin’ i give you,” he grunted. “i know y’want to be a good girl f’me, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you were incoherent at this point, ready to tell frank anything he wanted to hear as he bucked his hips into yours. “frank, i’m so close — how —“

“love a needy pussy like this,” he spoke, pulling you closer by the throat for a kiss. “you gonna be good to me? you gonna cum around my cock?”

“fuck, yes —“ you sobbed. “i want you to cum with me, baby, fill me up.”

that set him off. he rolled both of you over before you even knew what was happening. he had you pressed against the bed, hand still around your throat. you grabbed at his arm, loving having the feeling of his strong muscles hold you down. you wrapped your legs around his back as he threw his hips into you. over, and over, he drove himself inside you.

“dirty fuckin’ girl,” he growled, biting down on the skin of where your neck and shoulder met.

that was it. that was how you crumbled a second time for frank that evening.

you fucking wailed his name.

you grabbed at every part of him you could, struggling to hold on for dear life. your body shook with convulsions as your pussy tightened around him, locking his cock in place. nothing could stop his strong hips as they continued to rut into you — riding out your second orgasm of that evening.

you fell back against the bed, fucked out and gasping for air pathetically. frank pressed several kisses to your neck before he stood up on his knees, leaving your weak body below him. you pushed yourself to your elbows with whatever strength you could muster. frank grabbed you by the hips and you watched him slam his hips into yours.

you watched his forehead scrunch as his mouth fell agape. his chin was almost tucked to his neck as his eyes never left where his cock fucked into you.

“use me just like that, baby,” you cried. “i want your cum inside me.”

his strong, trim body went taut as his orgasm hit him, and you watched hungrily as the man before you fell vulnerable to the only pleasure he could allow himself these days. you watched as his conscious mind slipped further and further into the sensation until every ounce of stress and exhaustion left his face. you couldn’t help but bite your lip in pride and satisfaction — knowing that you will never see a more beautiful sight like frank castle using your body to get off.

you fucking loved selfish men.

----

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN NOW EVERYONE GO WATCH THIS SCENE -L xox

#the punisher #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank x reader #frank x you #he can punish me #lol #frank castle smut #frank smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle fit #frank fic #frank imagine #the punisher smut #the punisher fic #the punisher imagine

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just-some-user-hunny · 7 months ago

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Platonic! Yandere Daemon as your father...

. Daemon is proud of his blood. The moment he heard of a child that bore striking resemblance to his features, he immediately set out to reclaim what was his. He cared little for the woman who he shared a bed with, you were his child. He cares little for your bastard heritage, as long as you were his, he wanted you.

. The moment he sets his cold steel eyes upon your little form, he grew entranced. So this is the little one he's heard so much about. he wastes no time scooping you up and tucking you under his arm, trudging back to his sneering red beast as you wail and kick. The sooner he gets you home, the better. Your fight almost amuses him, a feeling warming in his chest that he has another firey daughter to call his own. Baela and laena will love you.

. Now obviously Daemon is not a man of... Honour, so to speak. You already had a heavy inkling since he kidnapped you, but learning about his disastrous and odd relationships with other women, it only digs the hole of contempt deeper. The older you grow, the more you understand. The concepts clear, the ones that held no weight or comprehension to your young troubled mind holding clarity and meaning. It's safe to say whatever bond he yearns for is all but doomed attempts. Still, he pushes and pushes. He'll keep you pinned under his thumb for as long as he can, at any cost.

. It's a strong chance that he may not want you to have a dragon of your own. A dragon meant freedom. Power. Something he felt you had no need for, you have a whole castle of Dragonriders who will defend you to their last breath after all. Why need one? Besides, Ceraxes is right here. He'll probably encourage you to rely on Ceraxes or Syrax the most. If you want dragons, they are at your disposal. If you were to gain a dragon, he'd be disgruntled at best, passive aggressive at worst.

. He is not around often, due to his little side quests and whatnot. What keeps him fairly calm is knowing that you're in safe hands within the secure walls of dragonstone. Rhaenary adores you like her own, and you are often kept distracted with toys and books and dresses and dragons to your hearts content. As long as you stay within the castle, he doesn't mind you all too much.

He does however have passive aggressiveness towards his nephew, Aegon, with his ill treatment of you. At some point Daemon probably encourages you to wack the boy back, yes, with that heavy book right there... Probably followed by a snide little chuckle as Alicent can only silently hold her tongue in discontent.

. Ceraxes is just as transfixed with you. He's a nosy dragon around you, fixing you with wide eyed glares that seem to drink your existence in, imposing and domineering. However he sings and chirps in your presence, purring happily to see you. Daemon will try to take you on as many dragon rides with you as possible as a child, wanting to find something to do to spend time with you. Something mutual, despite the unequal power balance. You love dragons, and your princely father has a dragon. A beautiful dragon. A serpentine dragon of blood red scales and filled with song. Come now, sweetling. Don't you like ceraxes? He loves you. Dry your eyes and hurry along. Look, he's added an extra harness to the saddle just for you.

Now when you do agree to ride, albeit a little dishearteningly, Daemon is truly happy. His smile is slight and thin, but his eyes speak all. Ceraxes will purr in his shrill song, pressing himself low to the floor as your father lifts you up to sit upon the saddle. Daemon can ignore your pouting quite contently.

. Baela and rhaena are your fond half-sisters, who often feel like your only rocks amidst the storm you've been dragged into. They are protective and patient with you, and are usually the only ones to truly listen to your woes and pleas. There is little they can do, like taking you back home. Besides, they have their own motives. They hate to see you miserable, but you'll have a considerably better life in the castle. You'll always be fed and kept safe, you'll never have to sleep upon straw or wear rags again. They still remember the little grimy child that Daemon brought home, and they dread the thought of you living like that again. They are a little yandere too, but considerably more relaxed and gentle. They don't say no to having you join them on dragon rides or horseback riding away from DragonStone, but as long as you return with them, they'll be content.

"Consider, sister" baela will coo

"father will find you. Ceraxes undoubtedly has your scent" rhaena chimes in, stroking your cheek and thumbing away a tear.

"and we would miss you" baela whispers, sharing a look with her twin. They both equally bear the burden knowing that there is little escape for you, and they sympathise with your situation. However- ultimately, like dragons, they are filled with greed and fire. They enjoy having you at home with them. They like braiding and styling your hair, or reading you stories, or having you interact with their dragons. Morning and moondancer are lovely dragons, and are the least smothering. They'll croon and let you pet them, but they won't stare like Ceraxes or nudge you around like a worrisome mother like Syrax. It's a strong chance as well that you were there to comfort them as they grieved their mother, even if it had been a couple years after her passing. Grief is still stricken in their hearts, but you- the little tearful bastard child, held empathy for them. You had just lost your mother, so to speak, and knew what it was like not being able to see her again. To never hear her voice once more, or to feel the touch of her hands upon your brow or her lips against your forehead.

You had embraced them with all your childlike bashfulness and clumsiness, embracing them hard in your little arms as they sniffled into your shoulders. Your words, despite being ungraceful and poised, were heartfelt. Since then, they were glued to you. Often being stuck in-between them and holding their hands as they weaved throughout lords and ladies at banquets and balls, giggling with warm joy as you would try to keep up with them- a big smile on your face for once.

. Daemon will see your close bond with your half-sisters and use it to his advantage. He'll watch you all embrace and giggle and play, and watch fondly. Knowing that you at least had a reason to smile here now.

. It is settled in his mind. Rhaenyra will keep you smothered in pretty things and toys and books, your half-sisters will keep you smiling, and he will keep you safe in your cage.

. One saving grace from Daemon, however is that he won't give your hand away to any lord that comes tottering by. So? You think because she is a bastard it means she should just settle for whatever she can get? That's his princess you're talking about. Daemon is always sure of his view of marriage- it's for political power. But for you, due to your heritage and claim, there is no need to hand you over to a lord or prince. It's the only shred of freedom you'll be granted, and let's be honest, life as a targarian woman isn't pretty. The gods could ask for you, and he'll still deny them.

. Overall, he would be a pretty standoffish yet controlling yandere. He'll use the people around you to keep you trapped and within his control, and stand in with his intimidation and wit to keep things running the way he wants it. There is little chance of escaping with him as your father- he has eyes across the earth, the oceans, and the sky. But as long as you stay content within the stone walls of your prison, all will be well.

#yandere hotd #platonic yandere #platonic yandere hotd #platonic yandere house of the dragon #yandere daemon targaryen #platonic daemon targarian #bastard! reader #bastard! princess reader

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nothorses · 8 months ago

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You've made a lot of really great posts about transmasc experiences and struggles, and they really resonate with me! So I guess I want to in complete earnest ask: why the push for 'transandrophobia' when anti-transmasculinity as a term has been around for longer and faces little friction by comparison? I don't really *dislike* transandrophobia, but its meaning gets muddied everywhere from different directions, while ATM is pretty direct and succinct I feel. It's very clear that it's about TRANSmasculine oppression. I'm not against having a dedicated term at all, but the content of our struggles gets lost in the weeds of attaching kind of understandably divisive terms like misandry and androphobia in an attempt to mirror a phenomenon very specifically about misogyny; it seems more trouble than it's worth considering ATM is right there

I'll be honest, this ask is confusing to me for a few reasons.

When I started talking about transandrophobia around the summer of 2020, the conversations I was encountering were very much, like, a handful of people across Twitter and Tumblr (literally, a handfull!). I picked up "transandrophobia" because it was one of two words I saw in use, and the other- "transmisandry"- felt much less clear and much more contentious. It seemed super obvious to me that people would draw a line from "men's rights activists" trying to push this idea that "misandry", as a systemic oppression of men by women, to "transmisandry", and assume some ill intent where there was none. It's confusing!

"Transandrophobia" was the better of two options being floated at the time, at least in any conversation I saw. "Anti-transmasculinity" was not really a term I'd been made aware of, if anyone at all was talking about it at the time.

I have seen people pick up "anti-transmasculinity" more recently (maybe in the last year?), and this is definitely the first I've seen someone shorten it to "ATM". The people I've seen use that term have been mostly people who seem really new to the conversation, and the vibe I've gotten has been very, like, "we're the Good Transmascs, our word isn't dirty and gross like those other Bad Transmascs everyone hates. you'll listen to us now that our word is Good and Pure, right?"

Which is like... kind of frustrating, and kind of sad, honestly. I think these people honestly believe that if they just choose the right word, all the people who've been dragging me and every other transmasc talking about these issues through the mud for the last 4 years or so will really just stop & listen. If they can just say it right, these people- who have been relentlessly harassing and spreading lies about every single transmasc who came before them for years now- will care what they have to say, and will be willing to engage with them in earnest, compassionate dialogue.

If you just find the right word, all of these people will care about your hurt, your pain, and the suffering of your community.

It kind of breaks my heart. It's an incredibly hopeful, kind, loving way to view the world. It's compassion and patience and forgiveness that these folks are not being given, but that they so badly want to offer to others.

And at the same time, it sucks to be the Bad Transmasc. It sucks to have fought so hard for so long, and for the people I've been fighting for all this time to turn around and say, "you're gross, and dirty, and evil, and everything you've done is a mistake." It sucks to see the people I've been fighting for agree with the people I've been fighting against, and shove me under the bus in an effort to appeal to the people running me over with it. Knowing that the bus is going to aim for them once it's done with me just makes it sadder, yknow?

@saint-speaks wasn't the first person to ever speak the word "transandrophobia", but he is the one who coined and popularized it in its current form. And then he was dragged through the mud so hard and so brutally that some people think I coined it, just because when I defended him (too little and too late, imo) I withstood the mud-dragging better than he did (and gee, I wonder white.)

And now people take for granted that everything everyone said about hymn to justify that frankly fucking evil harassment campaign was true, actually, and we should abandon the word he coined and find one with purer origins.

If you honestly think "anti-transmasculinity" is just a more practical word, that's fine. I don't care what word we use. But they're going to cover it in mud, too. They're going to cover every one of you in mud.

Will you keep fighting for "ATM" once they make it the new dirty, gross, bad, evil word? Will you keep fighting when they drag you and everyone else through the mud for using it? Or will you agree with them, make up a new word, and never look back?

Please don't let us drown in the mud. We've been fighting for you, and we want to fight with you. Please.

#transandrophobia #transmisandry #anti transmasculinity

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celestialtarot11 · 2 months ago

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🤍 Energies for 2025–What to release, bring in and future outlook! 🤍

Hi friends! This will be a chunkier bigger reading for yall. Please remember you control your life and any timing mentioned here is really a rough guideline, you manifest your life. Anything can happen when you’re ready to heal at your own time <3 including relationships! I hope ya’ll enjoy and found clarity and help through this. Feel free to like comment and reblog.

Pile 1: Hi there pile 1’s! For what you need to release to come into 2025 is heavier energies that have been weighing you down. I heard humiliation ritual—so I don’t know if someone around you or many people have been plotting on your behalf in a negative way. This could be them sending you negative energies, trespassing your boundaries. I feel you guys have been tense for a while because of it, it’s been unpredictable, chaotic and stressful. This release can look like crying, screaming it out, journaling your honest feelings even if you feel guilty about expressing them. This also may look like physically leaving your environment for a while. I heard “take that vacation plan or hangout.” Don’t underestimate leaving your town/home for a change! This can very well help heal you at this time. Even going to the park regularly for a few minutes can help. There’s also something about being surrounded by the color green (green is known to help signal to our brain health and wellness, and peace) so maybe getting a plant, or getting into gardening would be great! Plants also help to suck up our negative energy. Getting a snake plant or eucalyptus would be great. Set those boundaries and distance yourself from those people. If it is work related I see around Christmas time or just before you will feel this release. By then, a lot should calm down and will settle in terms of emotional trouble and work! Its also important to set boundaries and distance yourself from those kinds of people, and to put yourself first here. Take the time you need to express your feelings and thoughts. Whatever that looks like for you! I heard music can be incredibly healing for you too. So listen to the music you really like and spirit said no depressing shit 😭 like okay, ill mention this, when I get sad I listen to lady gaga and it helps because all shes doing is raving and im sad and it makes me laugh

Whats coming in for 2025: For some of you I saw getting into exterior design for houses would be something you love to do, or maybe it’s just decorating your house. Im seeing elaborate designs on the patio and a well made garden and fountain so perhaps for 2025, this will come true for those of you that have been working on this. It will be done! Anything house related and/or construction. Some of you also are starting a new job, business, hobby that will be bringing in money. I don’t know if in 2024 you took a year to start this new idea, project, etc. and in 2025 it will be paying off. For some of you, 2024 was the blueprint for this job/project, and by the end of 2025 you will build a legacy and receive the success you see. Lots of financial gains. Some of you may also have a family of your own which can be getting a new pet in 2025, or actually creating a family! So if you want that, spirit says yes this will go through. But I also see it hasn’t been easy on you financially either. Im hearing the past few years it was hard financially and you’ve been working for a long time to save up, to get out of a situation. 2025 will bring more than just getting out, it will bring financial relief, freedom, and emotional support.

For some of you, you’ve been waiting to hear from a friend. A best friend, or loved one, or whoever you know it is. Maybe a partner. You’ve been waiting for news to come in maybe a text, call. Or for spirit to show you a sign that they are watching over you. You will receive a sign, text and/or call in 2025 from your person! This could have been someone you grew up with, a parent or guardian very close to you. This can also be a romantic partner. I also see travel plans with this person, so if you’ve been planning a vacation, travel plans, 2025 will go through.

Thank you pile 1 for being here! Be sure to leave a like comment or reblog <3

Pile 2: Hi there pile 2! We have the classic case of overthinking your intuition and trying to analyze it. You’re trying to make sense of where its taking you. I heard you have to be lost in order to find your purpose, so perhaps this is how you’ve been feeling for weeks. You’ve been trying to plan your way out of this, or overthink how 2025 will go. But I see spirit wants you to fall back and trust the unknown—which obviously can feel like a lot because it is the unknown. Its what we can’t see, or perceive. I think its less about trying to see the end result, and more so about trusting no matter how it goes, it will fix itself. It’s philosophy in a way, although I can’t remember which philosopher suggested this, I believe it may be Taoism. But their advice was that eventually, “everything has to fix itself.” And that statement holds a lot of reverence and internal trust of the intuition and the power of the unknown. Letting the unknown work behind the scenes in your favor. Letting yourself release that pressure and stress, and letting the unknown serve you. If you have no idea what is happening, even better, there is so much room for creativity. Think of it as a void ready to be filled with your creativity, your manifestations, you. Release overthinking the unknown, it won’t always bring you the answers you seek. I see that you may also have a mother figure that was difficult, harsh and analytical of the intuition, and you may have wounds surrounding that as well. It’s okay to have wounds, i think its more so how we let that affect our individuality. Spirit says we have make room for our personality alongside others, because we aren’t meant to be carbon copies of one another. So, do whats different. Trust your intuition this time instead of overthinking it all. Some meditation can help you detach and relax from your mind. It may take more than one session! Spirit also says if you have trouble sitting up in meditation, try laying down. If you fall asleep, thats okay too. Tomorrow you can try again, thats why it exists.

Whats coming in 2025: Primarily, I see you trying to grasp spirituality. I dont know if you just got into it, or its been a long time since you dappled in the unknown, but there’s this cycle of releasing the mundane or “corporate” cycles. Where you only focus on the 3D itself and less on your inner world. But I see that this is happening to bring you full circle to yourself, releasing constant attachment to logic, analyzing and reasoning. Obviously, it’s helpful when needed, but now sprit is saying it is affecting your ability to hear your intuition. So for 2025, I see you battling a lot of intuition and trying to understand why it exists, its core value and purpose. I also see this as beautiful because this is the start of an inner journey and its not a destination. I see you refuting a lot of what you once knew especially if people taught you to second guess your intuitive nature. If you suffered a lot of losses in 2024, 2025 will be about bringing forth emotional changes to open you up. In terms of inner healing, expansion. A curiosity to understand yourself. But I also see resistance and I think it is because of what you went through and trying to keep yourself safe. Maybe there is apart of you that feels the more you get into spirituality the more you’ll see yourself for what you are, especially those hurt parts, so some of you distance yourself in hopes of protection. But i also see this manifesting as discomfort, emotional numbness, and a feeling of being lost. I do believe some of you are thinking, “I must be here for a reason even if I don’t want to face it.” So some of you want answers yet are anxious to know what it means. I do feel 2025 is about finding your inner purpose, which can always change, and its about finding solidarity in yourself. I see a lot of financial abundance and health, so your bodies health will improve. You will find more time for rest and creativity and clarity. So the answers you want are coming! I also see you’re getting a promotion or a better job in 2025, i heard climbing your way up. So you’ve been working hard. And now 2025 is about enjoying those financial successes. You may also move apartments or homes and will find a lot of peace which will help your understanding of your intuition. Some of you may meet a partner in. 2025 through work, and they may actually help you find that job. Some of you may meet a great mentor to help you, and perhaps its learning a native language you’ve been wanting to do!

Thank you for being here pile 2, your presence is appreciated!

Pile 3: Hi there pile 3’s! Im not sure if you’re dealing with two guys at the moment, two exes, two friends. Either way they could be giving lots of mixed signals, issues, disruptions in your personal life. One can be hotheaded, arrogant, impulsive. The other can be hypocritical, hide from emotions conversations and be avoidant. This could even be family members. But i see they bring lots of conflict and drama, and you feel stuck with them. You don’t know what to do. And spirit wants their energy scrapped honestly, because why continue the same drama for 2025? I don’t know if some of you have kept up the drama for appearances to have something worth talking about, if thats the case, spirit wants you to ask yourself why that is and to spend time alone to realize if that means more than your own health. Its time to start thinking and prioritizing your feelings. I get the sense no one has been listening to some of you, especially these two people. They’ve been only saying “i want this,” “i feel this,” and left you drained or shut out. So it’s time to put your foot down and end this! Let 2025 be all about you. Spirit wants you to start thinking: I have to set boundaries for my own healing, and not for the benefit of anyone else. This is something I have to do on my own. This could be deciding which person might be better for you and if you’re not seeing results in both people it may be better to be alone. This is to protect your energy. I also see spirit will be giving you clarity and the answers you need for which direction to go, whether its the go ahead with one person, or to leave them both behind for your healing. Pay attention to your dreams, gut feelings. And logic will help this situation. Compartmentalize your emotions for now and focus on what you do know and see coming from both people! What kind of mixed signals they’ve been giving you or one person. I see your inner child feels abandoned, alone and scared which is why they may be clinging to unhealthy partnerships to feel love. I heard we accept the love we think we deserve—so doing shadow work is necessary to release these energies. And remember to be kind to yourself too in this process <3 it can become overwhelming. But spirit says if you can pay attention to your core wounds and see how thats driving your behavior towards unhealthy partnerships, you can release this cycle for 2025 to come into an empowered state!

Whats coming for you in 2025: I heard the gift of seeing clearly. You’ll see past peoples lies, deceit, manipulation, ill intention. I believe you’re prioritizing less of a rose colored lenses outlook, and more of a sharp mind. I also see a lot of mental stability and strength from you in 2025 to work out anxieties, doubts. I think 2025 mentally for you is about allowing your anxieties and doubts to flow without it necessarily controlling your actions. Give it time to air out and settle. Its an emotional process, and yet a logical one right? Because you’re learning to sit with your emotions and process them in a healthy way, than to disrupt the cycle. And then you begin to see clearly, see better. In a way that empowers your choices overall. So, any boundaries that have been weak you will look at and try to understand why that is. Later on in 2025, id say march-april, i see a lot of emotional rejuvenation and success. I see you coming to terms with your human nature, emotions, and finding it easier to accept your anxieties and doubts and handle them. I see you being okay with being single if you are, and working life out on your own. This will only resonate for those of you not in w committed relationship! But for those who are single, I see you manifesting and enjoying your work and being able to find peace around march-april time. Its a very important time because you’re giving yourself what you wish you had and its here. I feel that you’ve been balancing giving and taking in relationships and now you’re giving to yourself. Everything you looked for is within you and you can see it now. I see work going great, lots of success! And funnily enough all piles have this same message of financial success yet their struggles are all different :) so, there is relief for you on the other side of fear in 2025. You may go through a wardrobe change and choose a refined, comfortable look. You may have events which require to wear fancy outfits! You’ll look great. I also see a lot of body neutrality and coming to embrace your body for all it does and how it works, rather than trying to force body positivity. I see divine femininity being embraced, and theres an ease and flow of energy! You’ll be better able to manifest too. In terms of relationships and romance I see a lot of fear and doubt which will take time to heal when you’re ready, but I see you standing strong regardless. Saying “you know what ive got fears and doubts and I don’t necessarily want a relationship right now, because i need the time and space to work on myself” and thats how you’re embracing it :) If you are manifesting a relationship, there will be lots of healing done before you come into one in 2025. I see a possible relationship towards the end, but please don’t let me tell you how you should live your life. Timing is whenever we choose we are ready. And thats entirely up to you.

Thank you pile 3’s <3 your likes comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Paid Readings 🤍

#astrology community #astrology #devi post #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot deck #tarot #witchcraft #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick one #pick a card romance #pick a card #astro placements #astro posts #astrology notes

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coldhndss · 2 months ago

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One and only

Rin Itoshi

self-prompted

Rin is known to many as blunt and unfriendly. He doesn’t enjoy talking to new people and is almost always on the brink of losing it. Though, this slump that he’s currently in isn’t a reflection of how he always was. Rin used to be bright-faced, and pretty easily excitable.

You’ve known that from the start.

You and Rin used to chat with each other on the way home from school as kids. He’d tell you about how amazing his brother was at soccer, bursting with smiles; as though he was vicariously living through Sae’s talent on the field. When you questioned him about his own skill, he’d tell you that it doesn’t matter, and that his brother was simply better at playing than he was. He said that he'd settle for second place if it meant he'd get to see Sae in the spotlight beside him.

You would cheer him on from the sidelines, watching the local matches he and his brother used to play against other schools. To Rin, there was no one on the field but him and Sae. Though to you, there was no one there but Rin.

You can’t recall when it started, but there came a day where you were no longer able to listen to Rin mentally lower his own skill in favour of seeing his brother succeed. He looked so oddly happy settling for second place that it frustrated you. You knew his talents; you knew how much he enjoyed winning. What made him put all of his trust in someone other than himself? Couldn’t he also strive for first place while cheering on his brother? None of it made sense…

All he used to speak about were things including his brother’s skill. You get it, younger siblings typically admire their older siblings. Though they shouldn’t think ill of themselves just to heighten the other persons social standing. After all, the two of you had grown up together. You used to talk all the time, play games with each other, have sleepovers, walk home together. It always meant a lot to you, but did it ever mean a lot to him?

He had you, but he also had his brother.

You had him, and only him.

You noticed slight shifts in Rin’s personality. He stopped joking and smiling as much, though he never pushed you away. He became distant, as though something was constantly on his mind. You noticed his patience wavering, and his soft, subtle smile fading away.

It was as though you were reaching out for something that was no longer there.

Hanging around him started to feel like being around a brick wall. The two of you now had little to no interactions with each other. He would finish his work, and pack his bag immediately, leaving the classroom as though he had something more important to do. He wouldn’t offer his textbook when you forgot yours, and when you spoke to him about your interests, he seemed like he was listening, sure; but he wouldn’t pause what he was doing to give you attention, or even make it look like he had any interest.

“Maybe he’s just become bored of me”, you think to yourself. You know him. You know he wouldn’t tell you about his issues unless you pry. You also know that he would keep it to himself and go about it in his own cathartic way.

Despite this, you felt like he would snap instantly if you brought it up to him. Like he was a boiling pot brimming with water; and despite it having a lid, liquid still trickled down its sides.

Though… the thought of leaving him alone troubled you. It pained you to see him in such a state, and though he wasn’t showing any signs of wavering; you would at least put in the effort to find out what was troubling him, even if he pushes you away as a result of it. At least one day, when he finds that person who will put out the fire from under him, he’ll realise that your carefully chosen words were the shards of ice that would never melt in that boiling pot of water.

Classes had concluded for the week. Students were packing their bags, laughing, and making plans for the weekend. As usual, Rin was already halfway out of the door. Despite being close your entire life, an overwhelming feeling of loneliness dawned upon you as you realised that if you don’t do something now, you may never be able to again. Each step he took felt like another thread of a worn-out rope was snapping before your eyes, and you could no longer endure it.

“Rin..!” You called out to him. Your tone was shaky; you weren’t used anything like this.

The rest of the class had left by this point. He stopped dead in his tracks, his back facing you.

“What?” His voice was blunt. He had never been extremely upbeat, but the thought that he’d been bottling everything up behind the scenes pained you.

After a few moments of silence, he finally turned around to face you, looking you deadpan in the face. It was the first time you’d spoken to him face-to-face in weeks. His eyes looked empty, yet so full of unexplained emotion.

You twiddled with your fingers that were now glossed with sweat from your clammy palms while looking down at your feet. Why were you so nervous? You’ve spoken to him thousands of times.. What was different now? It lingered at the back of your mind; you knew you were too scared to interrupt this this friendship, although deteriorating. At one stage, it had been peaceful, even fun. Though at this point, it had become anything but peaceful.

“If you don’t need anything then I’m leaving.” He turned his back once more, but you refused to see him take another step.

“Wait.” You forced a strengthened tone despite your nerves. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Stepping closer towards him, you get a better look at his expression. His aqua eyes, once filled with so much passion, were now void of emotion.

“Um… I need to ask you something.” You stuttered on your words, heart pounding so loudly that you thought he’d be able to hear it.

Rin sighs, frustrated. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Get to the point already, Yuu.” His patience is waning.

You take in a shallow breath, preparing to finally put your emotions on the line.

“Rin, um… have you been feeling okay lately?”

Shoot. That was such a bad question!

He looked at you as though you were speaking gibberish. His brows furrowed, and his gaze was now somewhat scrutinizing.

“I’ve been fine.” He immediately replied before turning back around. “Since that’s all, I’m leaving.”

No, you weren’t about to let this happen again. You reached out and grabbed his arm in the midst of his step. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt constricted.

To your surprise, he didn’t move your arm away. You knew something was bothering him. He wouldn’t push you away or insult you. It was as though he wanted the comfort of someone else, but he wouldn’t bring himself to ask for it.

Before you knew it, moisture had spread across your eyes, glossing your sight. A warm drop travelled down your cheek, giving way for a wave of tears. It became so quiet that the droplets of your tears tapping onto the ground were audible.

“Please.. don’t leave..” Barely being able to choke your words out, you were doing all you could to keep him listening. “I can’t stand seeing you like this… What happened to you..?”

He didn’t answer.

You continued to pry, raising your voice slightly.

“What happened to us?”

Suddenly, Rin turns around, and yanks his arm from your grasp.

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty? You really don’t know anything about me.” He scoffed. “I was stupid to ever befriend you as a kid. You probably still think I’m content with being second place, don’t you? How pathetic.”

You’d know if he told you. if he took the time to communicate his feelings, to let you hear his troubles. You had no words. What more could you say after that?

Though you did notice one thing; he was still here. He took the battering and didn’t leave. Somewhere in there, Rin you remember is still there. You decide against attacking him with words.

“You’re still here though. You’ve always been here.” Your hand fell down his arm, fingers intertwining with his. “You would’ve gotten rid of me by now if you really thought our friendship was stupid.” Your voice was soft as you spoke, careful not to be too harsh on him.

His eyes widened momentarily. It seems you struck a chord.

“No.. no way. It is stupid.. that’s why.. that’s..” He stuttered; his gaze scattered.

“Rin.. do I have to spell it out for you? I’m not going anywhere. Even if you call me stupid.” You smiled softly, hoping your words would break through the wall he built.

There it was. That look in his eyes that you’ve been yearning to see again for years.

Tears shone in his eyes, adorning a small gleam of light. His lips parted slightly as though he had something to say. He tilted his head and placed it on your shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around your back. You could feel the desperation in his grasp; like he was asking you to never let go. Slinging your arms over his shoulders and around his neck, you felt his breath grazing your neck.

“Why.. Why did you persist..?” He murmurs. Despite all this, Rin can’t seem to fathom why someone like you remained so insistent on digging out his troubles.

“I would never sit by and watch you drown in your own worries. Especially if I know that I can do something about them.” Even though you were holding him in your arms, you felt a little more confident knowing he technically can’t see you saying something so embarrassing.

You shift one arm up to his hair and gently caress it.

“I have no one else..” Your voice shook slightly “You’ve always been there, even when you were mad. Why would I let you slip from in-between my fingers..?”

You hear a sniffle from Rin. “…You’re not going anywhere after that.”

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snazzynacho · 1 month ago

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— Sick Side

Part 1/? Part 2

Emperor Geta x female original character (x Caracalla (one-sided)

Summary: Florentia is betrothed to Geta, but Caracalla is dangerously obsessed with her.

Warnings/tags: 18+ Mentions of STD, mental illness, disease, Forced proximity, forced kissing, referenced/implied past sexual abuse, violent urges, obsessive thoughts, delusions of a disordered mind. No non-con s3x, but it's close. She/her pronouns used. Slight canon divergence. OC is a bit naive and way too nice. Tags may change.

Words: 5k Read on ao3. Masterlist.

A/N: Let’s explore Caracalla’s sick side together (he’s still my babygirl). I initially planned for this to take place in a sort of au/pre-gladiator ii, but then it started making sense to take place during gladiator ii, when Macrinus is being manipulative…so yeah. I've only been able to see the film once so sorry if I get some things wrong. I don't have an editor so sorry if there are typos etc.

Please check the tags before reading.

It is often that Florentia finds herself immersed in the magnificence of the imperial gardens.

She feels it is an honour to walk among the beauty of the statues of the Roman gods and goddesses, and the flowers blooming for all to see. She remembers the Imperial Gardens being talked about with her, before she became wedded to Geta. Everyone has said how wonderful it is, and she can understand why now.

Usually, when she is invited to the palace, Geta’s brother happens to be in the gardens and they walk together when Geta is busy. She likes his company, no more than Geta’s, but he seems sweet. Troubled, but sweet.

Today, they are doing just that.

The air is thick with blooming flowers such as roses and lilies. Caracalla follows a few steps behind her, rambling about nothing in particular, his words spilling out in his usual, disjointed manner.

Caracalla suddenly beams at her, expecting agreement. Having not listened, Florentia does not respond immediately. She does not dislike him, per-sey, but he is so oblivious and his childlike enthusiasm worries her. How is he, Emperor? She knows that his father pleaded with Geta to be Co-Emperors with him, but being in person with the ill emperor is—and she hates to admit it—quite jarring. Her platonic love for him does not diminish, though. Caracalla is going to become her brother-in-law and she will become another one of his carers, as Geta is to him already. Maybe she’s the missing link between them.

“I suppose,” she says, her tone cool, as if she knows what he is talking about.

He nods eagerly, clearly pleased. He believes her lie. “I knew you’d get it. You’re not like the others. You actually understand me.”

Florentia shifts her attention to a butterfly that has fluttered past, its wings reflecting in the sunlight. It lands on a nearby rose, and she absently follows its flight.

“It’s pretty,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him.

“It’s not as pretty as you.” He is serious, his bright blue eyes train on her with an intensity that is both surprising and unsettling.

Florentia blinks, unsure whether to laugh or change the subject in its entirety.

“Yes,” he continues, his gaze softening. “You are like…the sunniest daffodil, the brightest narcissi—though unvain…The smartest rose in the garden. Beautiful, but also clever…A sharp edge to the most elegant sword.”

Florentia is stunned. He is rambling, yet there is an earnestness in his voice, a sweetness beneath. She opens her mouth to respond, but finds herself at a loss.

Caracalla flushes slightly, misinterpreting her silence as disappointment. He feels somewhat dejected. “I…I mean- not that you are weak without a sword, or too harsh like one-”

For the first time, Florentia truly realises that, despite his maddening disease, he is trying. Underneath, there is a sincere man.

Florentia holds his hand carefully. She can feel him trembling. “What you said was beautiful, Caracalla. Don’t go back on your word,”

Caracalla’s eyes widen, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. He has not expected her to respond this way. “You…you think so?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Yes,” she says. “It was…quite sweet.”

His face brightes, a smile grows on his lips. “I knew you’d get it,” he echoed, sounding like a child who had just received praise from a teacher he admired.

Florentia squeezes his hand gently, before letting go carefully. She studies him for a moment, noting the eager light in his eyes, the almost nervous way he was fiddling with the fabric of his toga. Her heart softens. She is so happy to have such a generous brother-in-law already—a new friend.

An orange blur flutters past the corner of her eye. “oh, I think it flew away,” she says sadly.

Caracalla turns to follow her gaze, his expression turning almost boyish. “I’ll catch it!”

He dashes forward, his footsteps heavy on the cobblestones, trying to keep up with the elusive butterfly which seems to take pleasure in taunting him, fluttering away just as he reaches for it, only to settle on a flower just out of his grasp.

“Caracalla!” she giggles as she tries to catch up with him, holding her stola to aid in running.

“I got it! I got it!” he exclaims, lunging forward, arms outstretched. Just as he thinks he has the butterfly cornered, it darts away again, leaving Caracalla grasping at thin air.

Florentia reaches him, catching up with his pursuit. She tries to hold back her laughter, but a chuckle escapes her lips. “You’re scaring it!” she speaks a hint of glee in her voice. “If it wants to fly away, let it. That’s what it does” she calmly says.

Caracalla stands there, slightly out of breath, a dejected expression on his face. “But I wanted to hold it,” he mumbles, his lower lip almost quivering. Florentia cannot help but find him strangely endearing in that moment. He is an emperor, a powerful man, yet he is pouting like a child over a butterfly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she places a tender hand on his shoulder, gently caressing. “I am sure you will soon,”

His breath hitches at her touch, his eyes widening at the unexpected affection. He leans his weight into her hand, soaking up her comfort like a flower in the sun.

“You think so?” he asks, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. For once, he sounds almost insecure and vulnerable.

“Yes, I believe so,”

He smiles, a small, genuine smile, his earlier disappointment forgotten. For a while, he simply stays there, savouring the touch of her hand on his face. It is such a stark contrast to the usual spoilt swagger and boldness he usually displays, it catches Florentia off guard.

“It can sense a great friend, as I have with you!” she beams.

A tinge of uncertainty occurs at the pit of his stomach, but he smiles nonetheless.

“Look! There it is again!” she spots the butterfly up ahead again. “Wait here, it’ll slowly come back” she interlocks her arm with his gently, so he doesn't run after the butterfly and scare it away.

He obeys, keeping absolutely still, almost holding his breath, as the butterfly returns. Florentia's strategy seems to be working. The tiny insect flutters closer, seemingly unbothered by their presence now, drawn in by her gentle coaxing.

Caracalla gapes, wonder in his eyes, as the butterfly lands delicately on a nearby flower.

It then flies back up in front of their faces and then lands somewhere they do not expect…her nose.

The butterfly perches calmly on the tip of her nose, its wings gently flutter. The moment is almost magical, the world around them fades away as they focus on the tiny creature on Florentia’s nose.

Caracalla’s eyes widen in surprise. Pure glee on his expression. A small gasp escapes his lips. He tenses to move, to try and grab the butterfly, but one look from Florentia holds him in place.

“Don’t move!” she whispers tersely.

She cannot stop grinning as she looks cross eyed, staring down at the butterfly. Caracalla chuckles softly, his eyes are glued to the scene before him. He’s seen Florentia smile and laugh plenty of times—at parties the emperor’s have thrown and dinners they've presented, which is where Geta and her first met—but this is different. There is something nearly childlike in her wide, joyous smile, in the way her eyes sparkle with wonder—like he.

He can't resist marvelling at the sight before him: a beautiful woman, standing in a sunlight garden, a butterfly perched delicately on her nose, making her look for all the world like a nymph straight out of mythology. A true goddess.

He is simply a man, sharing a serene moment with a captivating woman.

“You look positively adorable,” he murmurs, barely able to keep a laugh at bay.

Florentia gulps but blushes deeply, as the implications of his words sink in. The butterfly stays on her nose.

He cannot stop himself from stepping closer, unable to tear his eyes away from her smiling face. She looks so happy, so unguarded in that moment, and all he wants is to be closer to her.

“You are… lovely,” his voice low, reverent. Without thinking, he reaches out, his fingers hovering just above her cheek, as if afraid to touch the fragile moment and shatter it.

The butterfly, seemingly unbothered by Caracalla’s movement, remains perched on Florentia’s nose, oblivious to the tension between them. It continues to flutter softly, its wings a flurry of orange, black and white colours.

Caracalla’s hand hovers a moment longer, the desire to touch her is practically overwhelming, but he hesitates. The reality of their situation crashes back into his mind. She is promised to his brother. There are rules, traditions, duties…

Still, he aches to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin under his fingers.

“Florentia,” he whispers, his voice almost hoarse. “I… I…” He does not know what to say. He wants to confess his feelings, and his growing liking for her. But the words seem to catch in his throat, trapped in the knowledge that he should not feel this way, not towards Geta’s betrothed.

The butterfly suddenly flies away, snapping them out of this trance. Caracalla’s outstretched hand drops to his side, the moment lost. Florentia steps back, clearing her throat.

He blinks, suddenly self-conscious, his heart still pounds in his chest. He wants to say something, to bring the magic back, but what can he say? He almost confessed, almost crossed a line he knew he shouldn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “Ah… that was… quite the experience.”

“I’m sorry Caracalla, I do apologise, but I must go.” she abruptly declares.

“What?” Caracalla’s brows furrow as his eyes widen, a pang of panic hitting him in the stomach. “Go? Where? Why?”

He has not expected her to leave so unexpectedly. Just moments ago, she looked so carefree, so happy, and now she was rushing off, her face tight with tension.

“Florentia, wait,” he calls out, reaching for her, a desperate edge to his voice. He cannot let her go, not now, not when he’s just had the smallest taste of the closeness he’s been yearning for.

“It’s uh— a lady thing!” Florentia blurts as she practically sprints away. It is a lie to her but she does not have time to care.

“A… a Lady thing?” Caracalla stands there, dumbfounded, as he watches her hasty retreat. She is obviously flustered, her cheeks rosy and her steps quick. But a ‘Lady thing’? Caracalla did not know much about the female mind, or their struggles, but he did know a thing or two of something they go through every month…

He frowns at the thought of her being in discomfort. He stands there for what feels like ages, hesitating. He listens to the conflicting voices fight in his head. The more primal voice, the one that cannot forget the way her skin had felt under his fingers, the one that craves her touch again, urges him to follow her, to demand answers. But the other part, the rational voice of imperial duty which understands propriety and etiquette, wills him to remain where he is and tells him to let her go, to forget about her and move on.

He is Emperor. He has a reputation to maintain, an image of absolute power and control. Chasing after a woman, especially his Co-Emperor’s—his brother’s—betrothed, is beneath him. Is it not?

Yet, he cannot unsee her soft and joyful face under the butterfly’s touch, like a painting he can admire but cannot touch, for fear of his hands being scolded.

Finally, with a growl of frustration, he spun on his heel and stalks back towards the palace. He will not follow her, not right now. But he will find her, and he will get answers.

As he walks, his head is a tangled mess of unresolved questions, of unfulfilled desires. He cannot shake the persistent image of her face from his mind, the ghost of his fingers on her skin. He wants to deny his feelings, to bury them under the weight of imperial duties, of concubines. But they remain, stubbornly lodged in his heart. Whether he likes it or not, he has found something he has not experienced: a connection, a longing, for a woman he should not even be thinking about.

Caracalla knows this is dangerous territory—a minefield of political intrigue and familial duty. But he has never been one to heed his own instincts, especially when it comes to women and others he desires. He is an Emperor, and he usually gets what he wants. So why not pursue this forbidden desire?

His ill mind is rapidly regurgitating this greedy sequence of craving, need and want. One minute, he is telling himself he needs to stop thinking about her, and the next, he is already inside the palace, his mind still wrestling with these questions.

Every solution he comes up with raises more obstacles. His duty as an emperor, the politics of the empire, the delicate balance of the imperial family… All of it stands in his way, like unconquerable walls. He scowls, his frustration making his steps heavy as he paces the corridors.

And then, a thought occurs to him. A wild, treacherous thought…

What if he removes Geta from the equation?

The idea is almost shocking in its boldness, its audacity. But the more he thinks about it, the more it begins to carve a twisted sort of sense. Geta, his albeit more stronger brother, the one always better than him... He is a hindrance, a thorn in Caracalla’s side. What if he can eliminate the obstacle, and have Florentia all to himself?

He knows such a thought can be seen as treasonous. but then again, who would dare to accuse the emperor? Geta’s vulnerable, sick, brother? Poor poor Caracalla, to be left with such a weight to bore on his back alone...

The idea continues to take root in his mind, its ugliness blossoming into a twisted plan. Kill Geta, claim Florentia, and secure his line of succession. It is rash, it is dangerous, but it is also thrilling.

Rome’s people are already starting to hate Geta. To turn on them. Macrinus says so himself. So what can be worse?

Caracalla allows himself a small sinister smile, his mind already spinning, devising the first steps of the plan. He makes his way deeper into the imperial residence, nodding curtly at the passing guards and slaves. He will need to keep his growing preoccupation hidden, for now. No one can know his intentions, especially his brother. Geta would certainly know something was askew…he has always been annoyingly perceptive.

He eventually reaches his chambers, closing the door behind him. The room was glorious and luxurious, fit for any majesty. Massive, lavish, and impersonal.

He stalks over to a table, his shaky hand immediately reaches for a bottle of alcohol. He pours himself a goblet of red wine, the quality stuff which is normally reserved for high officials and special occasions, but he thinks this is special enough, right? He needs something stronger for today. The liquid is rich and dark. It doesn't quench his thirst for a particular woman, though.

Drinking deeply from the goblet, savouring the bitter taste, he doesn’t realise he has drunk it all until he’s left slurping air. It was certainly a good drink. He feels the wine spreading through his body, warm and invigorating—a dangerous addition to his already unstable state.

He refills his goblet again and slumps onto a plump chair, swishing the dark red liquid around in the golden goblet, watching the swirls and bubbles forming. He leans back in the chair, his mind is still reeling with his decision. He wants Florentia. He wants her with an intensity so strong, that even he is surprised. And if getting her means doing something as reprehensible as killing his own brother, his own flesh and blood, the one he shared a womb with, then so be it.

He will finally have something of his own, and solely his own. He will have Florentia. One way or another, she will be his.

Caracalla entitles himself to bask in thought. He imagines Florentia by his side, in his bed, under his control. No more coy glances, no more stolen moments. Just her, completely his.

He chuckles darkly, how twisted his mind has become.

He pushes himself up from the chair, pacing across the room. He halts when he walks past his large ornate mirror. He turns to face it, studying his reflection. He looks every bit the Emperor: regal, strong, powerful. More, there is something in his bright blue eyes—a madness that has been festering for a long time. It is a look of a man who has incurably lost all tether to the world, cast to inhumane territories, whether he wants or not.

The enormity of what he is planning to do sinks in. It is not just an act of lust or obsession, it is a betrayal of the highest caliber. Killing his own brother, his blood, just to have his wife.

Yet even as he struggles with the magnitude of what he is about to do, his heart still thuds harder in his chest, his blood grows hotter in his veins. He craves Florentia more than he cares about his own brother.

His gaze never tears from himself. It is the look of a man who is willing to do anything to get what he wants.

“Anything,” he mutters to himself, his voice hoarse with determination. “Anything at all…” He wants Florentia, and he will have her. And nothing, not even familial ties or the wrath of the gods, will stand in his way.

The silence of the room is interrupted by a knock on the door. Caracalla snaps out of his thoughts, his eyes narrow in irritation. Who is foolish enough to disturb him when he is in such a brooding mood?

“What?” he barks out, turning from the mirror. He watches as a slave boy - one of the younger ones - timidly pushes open the door, his eyes lower to the floor and his hands quiver by his sides.

“What is it?” Caracalla repeats, his voice gruff. He can already feel his anger rising. He has no patience for this boy’s cowardice. “Speak up when you’re addressing your Emperor!”

The boy gulps visibly, clearly terrified by the thunderous tone of the emperor's voice. As if the God, Jupiter, has possessed him.

The young servant’s voice comes out in a meek whisper. "The…the Lady Florentia is here, Dominus. She…she says she must speak with you. Urgently,”

Caracalla's eyes widen fractionally in surprise. Florentia is here? In his chambers? It is almost too good to be true. But he quickly composes himself, schooling his features into a neutral expression. "Send her in."

The boy nods quickly before scuttling away, the door closing behind him. Caracalla takes a sudden deep breath, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. He is about to be alone, in his room, with Florentia. The very thing he has been craving.

He watches the door expectantly, his hands clenching and unclenching are his sides. Please, he silently prays. Please, come in.

There is a moment of silence, it feels like a century, and then the door swings open. His heart lurches before him. Florentia stands there, silhouetted against the brighter lights of the hallway, her figure in her purple stola, elegant and enticing. Her hair is loose, falling past her shoulders, unbraided unlike it was earlier. Has she arranged it down, especially for him? This enchantress…This Goddess… She might as well be holding his heart in her hands, as that is where it belongs.

Clearly, Caracalla does not see the emotion on her face at first—or rather, unemotion. He's too pre-occupied by the woman he wants in his chambers. Does she feel the same way? Has she heard his plea and come to confess her feelings? Her happy face from earlier is replaced with a tense seriousness he has rarely seen from her.

He stands there transfixed, unsure of what to say.

"Caracalla," Florentia begins softly, her voice cutting through the silence. "May I come in?" Her words come out more like a statement than a question, and Caracalla finds himself nodding “yes” without even thinking, as if under a spell. He watches as she steps fully into the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

This is it. This is the moment…

“What brings you here at this hour, Florentia?" he asks, egging on her feelings for him he thinks she will admit.

He watches as she moves further into the room, her movements graceful but purposeful. She stills, her back to him for a moment, then she turns around. She meets his gaze, her eyes still serious. "We need to talk," she says simply.

Caracalla senses his heart skip a beat at her serious tone. Whatever she has to say, it is clearly important. He tries to keep his features controlled though the urge to reach out and touch her is nearly overwhelming.

“Talk about what?” he questions.

“Please sit with me, Caracalla. I don’t want this to be more difficult than it already is,” she speaks softly, like a parent to a child.

Caracalla frowns, biting his lip, except her soft soothing voice sends shivers down his spine. He feels so conflicted, a mix of dread and anticipation at her request.

Obliging, he settles on a large chaise nearby, gesturing for her to join him. He scrutinises as Florentia settles across from him, sitting straight, her hands tucked in her lap. She is supposed to sit next to me.

For a moment, neither one speaks. The air is thick with tension, each waiting for the other to break the silence first. Finally, Caracalla cannot bear the suspense any longer. “What is it, Florentia?” he asks, his voice gruff. “You say we need to talk. So speak.”

As their eyes lock, he catches a fracture in her serious expression—a flicker of hurt—and it hits him like a punch in the gut.

He tries to steady his features, to keep the turmoil within him at bay. But he can feel his composure slipping. Where is Dondas?

“Flora—” he says, his voice softer now. But she cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“This is difficult enough, Caracalla,” she lets out, her own voice catching slightly. “Please, let me speak. I need to say this.”

He bites back a retort, falling silent. He has never seen her quite like this before…so serious, so vulnerable. It makes him strangely unsettled. He gestures for her to continue, his gaze never leaves her beautiful face.

Florentia takes a deep breath, clearly gathering her thoughts. When she speaks again, her voice has regained its stoic determination.

“Caracalla, I know you have feelings for me. I’ve seen the way you look at me, the way you act around me. And I…” She pauses, a flicker of indecision passing over her features. “I cannot reciprocate those feelings.”

Caracalla leans back, his back hits the chase, as if physically blown by her words. He feels the color drain from his face, his mouth suddenly bone-dry. Is she saying what he thinks she is? She cannot be. Florentia…she is his. How can she not want him?

He attempts to speak, but the words are lodged in his throat. All he can manage is a strangled, “what?”

“Caracalla, this does not mean I do not love you, nor care about you.” she leans forward to carefully hold his hands “I do deeply. Just…not in the romantic sense.”

Caracalla senses her grip on his hands, but he cannot bring himself to look at her. Her words echo in his ears, each syllable is a fresh spike in his heart. She is rejecting him. She cares for him, but only as a friend. Not as a lover, not as he wants her to. It is worse than any physical blow he has ever received.

“But… why?” he manages to croak out, the sound pathetically pleading. His mind shows him flashes of all the times they have spent together these past few months. All those walks in the garden, the polite smiles in passing, the shared memories of the feasts he and his co-emperor have put on. How can she not love me?

“Why?…I…Well, because. Because the gods have someone else for you. Your true love. They’re out there somewhere, just not…here,” Florentia tries to tread around the topic carefully, as she squeezes his hands gently and lovingly.

Her words only fuel his disbelief, his confusion. “The gods?” he echoes, his voice thick with skepticism. “They’ve decided for me who I should love? After deciding to give me this disease?!” his nostrils flare as his anger grows, his expression quickly turns sinister. He can no longer control his unrest.

He cannot fathom how the whims of the gods can dictate something as personal and primal as love. Let alone gift him a lifelong struggle with his disease, which is increasingly becoming more deteriorating day by day, Florentia fears. It seems arbitrary, cruel even.

What have I done to deserve this?

“What I mean is…That, I am not the one for you, and whoever that is will love you so much, as you so deserve. I cannot do so, I am sorry Caracalla.“

He laughs mirthlessly, a hollow sound that reverberates around the room. Love him, as he deserved? He does not care about any other love. He wants HER, and no one else!

Caracalla leans closer, gripping her hand now. Tightly. The pain of her rejection is beginning to give way to something else. Kill Geta. Take Florentia.

“That’s not good enough,” he says, his voice now low and dangerous. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you, Florentia.”

“Want?” she careens back, looking at him in an unreadable expression.

“Yes, want!” Caracalla snaps, his patience wearing thin. He rose from the chaise, pacing restlessly back and forth in front of her. “You say the gods have decreed that there is someone else out there for me. But what do the gods know of love? Of desire?” He stops, turning, pleading. “They are immortal, unfeeling. They do not understand the concept of yearning for someone, to desire them with every fibre of your being.”

Florentia swallows harshly. Her mouth goes dry, and her chest feels heavy. She stares at where he was sitting only a moment ago. “I have desired you from the moment I first laid eyes on you,” Caracalla admits, though Florentia has quickly pieced that together after earlier’s event. His voice is quiet but intense. “Your laugh. Your intelligence. Your beauty. You have invaded my every thought. I cannot think, I cannot sleep, and when I do you are in my dreams. You are all I want, all I fantasise about.”

Tears are brimming his blue eyes, threatening to fall. He takes a step towards her, leaning over to look into her eyes. His eyes burn with an intensity that makes her involuntarily bend her neck away from him. “How dare some gods decide that I cannot have you?” he concludes his speech. His breath is hot on her face, and his possessive words start to scare her.

Her lip wobbles, but she keeps it steady. Her tears cannot fall. Not yet. His passion shocks her and if she were in different circumstances, she may have swooned, but, she is not. Florentia is betrothed to his brother, the one she loves. She stands tall, glaring at him “I have a say in this too, you do realise? Not the Gods, ME. If you loved me as much you claim, then you would do anything for me to be happy,”

Her firmness and strength stuns him momentarily. He did expect her to back down, to be overwhelmed by the force of his passion. But there she is, standing strong against him, her eyes blazing with a fire to match his own.

He takes a step closer, their bodies almost touching. “I would do anything to make you happy,” he says. His voice is a hoarse whisper. “Anything at all. You know that,” he repeats. His shaking hands want to reach out for her.

“Then let me go.” she whispers as her hand reaches for his trembling ones, as if reading his mind, which only makes his delusion of her secretly loving him thrive. We are so in sync, as lovers become one.

His breath catches in his throat. Let her go? It is the last thing he wants to do. But her words hold him in a peculiar sort of trance, as if he is physically incapable of disobeying. “I cannot,” he manages, his voice rough, cheeks rosy and wet with tears. “You cannot ask me to do that, Florentia, you are…” He trails off, his eyes search hers desperately. “You are the only person who makes me feel alive. You cannot ask me to give that up.”

“I will still be here for you. We will still walk together in the garden, see each other over meals, be friends…and when I am married—”

He cuts her off, shaking his head as his hands grip hers tightly. “That’s not enough. I want more than that! I want more of you!”

He steps even closer, their bodies are now pressed against each other. He can feel the heat of her, smell the sweet scent of her skin. The nearness only intensified his need, his longing, his hunger.

“Please, Caracalla, I do not know what to say—”

“Do not speak, then.” He cuts her off again, his voice harsh. Then, his lips are on hers, bruising, possessive. He kisses her with desperation and a need that borders on feral.

Her stomach drops, plunging into a deep uneasy feeling. Her eyes widen as his lips are pressing against hers. She whimpers, not in pleasure, but in shock and hurt.

He does not notice her whimper, deafened by the pounding of his own heart, the roaring in his ears. He only feels the softness of her plump lips, the heat of her breath. He presses forward, his hands moving to grip her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Florentia finally comes to terms with what is happening and grips his shoulders, pushing him away. The unexpected resistance snaps him out of his haze of desire. He lifts his head slightly, meeting her gaze with a mix of surprise and irritation. “What are you doing?” he demands, his voice strained. “Why are you pushing me away?”

“I am scared,” she voices subconsciously, her thought spills out of her, her voice wobbily. “You are frightening me,” It is not the first time a man has acted this way around her. Disturbed her. It has never occurred to her that Caracalla could be the one to continue that cycle, until now. Perhaps she has been naive…

She has to flee before it twists into a situation she never wants to experience again.

Caracalla’s gaze softens at her admission. The anger that has flared up at her resistance fades, replaced with a mix of confusion and tenderness. “Scared?” he recites incredulously. “Why? It is only me, Florentia. I am not going to hurt you.”

Florentia motions backwards, looking at him stunned. But Caracalla doesn't quite understand why. He follows her stare, his confusion deepening. He glances behind him, but sees nothing there that would possibly unnerve her. “What is it?” he asks, his brows furrowing, and his leg taunts, wanting to stamp it down like an irritable child. His impatience is returning, his desire for her opposing with his bewilderment.

“You…” she shakes her head, holding one hand on her chest as she braces a sob. “You are…different.” she takes a deep breath and blinks, hoping to see the sweet side of him from earlier rather than the sick side when she opens her eyes again.

Caracalla takes a step back, withdrawing slightly. Her words hit him like a cold splash of water, sobering him. “Different? How?” he asks gruffly.

His heart is still pounding with a mixture of desire and frustration, but her apparent fear is giving him room to think.

Florentia opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out before she practically leaps out of the room. Her legs working faster than her thoughts

He watches her go, confusion and anger warring within him. “Wait...” he manages to let out, but she is already gone. Caracalla is frozen in place, left alone with a whirlwind of emotions. Confusion, desire, hurt, anger—he feels them all intensely. But over everything is the caving feeling of rejection. Florentia was so close, the taste of her still on his lips, yet, she pulled back as if horrified of him. Everyone always sees me as a monster.

He ran a trembling hand through his red hair, his breathing ragged. What has just happened? How did everything go so wrong, so fast? He wants to go after her, to force her to explain why she has run away. But he also fears whatever it is about him that has frightened her.

Feeling restless and agitated, he paces his room again. He tries to tell himself that it was her uncertainty that made her react that way, not disgust or fear but the thought refuses to take root. Every time he reaches for it, it slips through his fingers like smoke while her terrified expression flashes in his mind as clear as day. “I am scared,” The scene replays over and over in his head, analysing every moment. It is like a neverending waking nightmare.

Her flowery scent still lingers in his chambers, and instead of calming him down as it usually does, it is starting to give him a headache, taunting him as if she is still in the room with him. He pictures how the scene could have happened—how it should have proceeded…with Florentia kissing him back, with equal desire and passion. Her hands gliding along his body, his chest. The flutters of his stomach when her hands cradle his cheeks, sliding them down to disrobe him before setting him down on his bed. Then, he feistily tosses her over so he is on top, rips her clothes off, and greedily takes her there and then, feeling how tight and wet she is. All for him.

Gods, he cannot even think straight. His cock reacts to his dirty thoughts which leaves him flustered and irate at the situation. No concubine can cure this.

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.

A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

Part 2 has been posted!

THIS WAS TENSE ASF. (it gets worse)

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