#given how I was raised on scraps | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blkkizzat · 4 months ago

Text

❝ 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

6K notes · View notes

cherryredcheol · 5 months ago

Text

"baby"

tldr: all the way seungcheol uses your nickname a/n: this has been written and waiting to be posted forEVER but i'm finally ready (i am down horrific for this man)

seungcheol x reader fluff wc: 1k

reprimands: to make sure you know he's yours

“baby.” his tone is firm, controlling. he thought it would be a good idea to invite you to his shoot today, thinking you'd like to see him in the expensive clothes he was always put in for cover shoots. what he didn’t account for was you pouting over the friendly makeup artist assigned to him for the day.

“don’t pout. you know i only have eyes for you.” he was trying to reason with you but his patience was wearing thin. you were being difficult on purpose and he couldn’t really do anything about it given the need to protect his image and act as professional as possible. you just huffed, frown settling deeper on your face.

“you’re being a little unreasonable,” based on the look you gave him that was the completely wrong thing to say to you. he turned when he heard them call for him from set. it was time to shine. he walked over to where you sat, bending down to meet your eyes, “if you’re good for the rest of the day i’ll reward you when we get home, baby.”

whines: when he doesn’t have your attention

“baby,” he could hear the pathetic tone in his voice but he just couldn’t help it. he’d had a long day of meetings and listening to presentations, the only thing keeping him going was knowing that you would be waiting at home for him when it was all over. you’d look at him with your soft eyes and dote on him all weekend, just how he liked. now here he was, waiting to be coddled and you were too busy giggling at your phone to spare him a glance.

“what could be so entertaining on the phone that you can’t spend time with me?” he was laying it on thick but he was desperate at this point, especially when his question was only answered by another tittering laugh that was still not directed at him. at this point, he was fed up. he craned his neck to see what had you all giggly.

“oh my god. you’re kidding me!” he couldn’t believe his eyes. playing on your phone was an edit of him from the most recent gose episode. the clip wasn’t even his best moment in the episode, but he did look quite handsome that day so he can’t blame you for watching. he still really wanted to be fussed over, “seriously, put your phone down. i’m much cuter in person, baby.”

cat-calls: as you walk by in his favorite dress

“baby!” he called out to you, dragging out the ‘y’ sound. you paused, stopping in the middle of the bedroom as you crossed from the closet to the ensuite bathroom. he was seated on the bed, tying his shoelaces when he caught sight of you in the soft pink sundress he loved so much. you looked at him with big, curious eyes, wondering why he had stopped you in the middle of getting ready for your date in the park.

“spin for me.” he got up from the bed and reached for your hand. he held it up, above your head and twirled you in a circle, eyes taking in every inch of you. he was excited to have a picnic with you but now he was considering scrapping the whole thing to stay behind. seeing you in a sundress always did something to him.

“you’re so beautiful,” he was full of compliments, making sure you knew exactly how beautiful he thought you were. he considered himself a lucky man every day he got to spend with you. he supposed his desire for you could wait a few hours. he should spoil you rotten with a date in the park, before spoiling you in bed. “sure you really want to go out, baby?”

admires: because he’s proud of you

“baby,” his voice is soft, eyes even softer as he cups your face. he’d just gotten home from his schedule and you’d greeted him at the door, immediately sharing the news of your promotion with him. it was a small, mostly lateral move, with a tiny raise but you were still excited to share the news with him. he kisses you deeply, trying to convey his pride to you wordlessly.

“i should tell my mom. she’s going to be so happy for you.” this made you blush. you knew he’d be proud but you didn’t really expect him to be so happy that he’d want to tell everyone. it wasn’t even a big deal. you begged him not to call his mom right that moment and instead conceded to a spontaneous celebratory dinner at your favorite restaurant.

“i’m so proud of you,” this was now the sixth time he told you this since you shared the news with him, the second on the car ride to the restaurant. you blushed every time he said it, and had asked him to stop, to which he refused. in fact, he had doubled down. he threatened to have a cake brought to the table at dinner if you tried to silence him again. at a red light, he fished his phone out of his pocket, handing it over to you, “call my mom, for real. i want us to share the news with her. she’s going to be so proud, baby.”

barks: on accident

“baby!” the name came out harsh, frustrated. you’d never heard it that way before; this time, it wasn’t even directed at you. the dressing room fell silent and you watched the blush creep up his neck. the boys were never going to let him live this down. he turned from you, the conversation you were having before he went on stage now gone from his mind.

“sorry, i meant to say ‘seungkwan’”. he was trying to save the situation but it was awkward. not only had he tried to reprimand his members but he’s accidentally used your name to do it, embarrassing himself in front of his members, staff, and you. what was once a bustling hub of movement and concert preparation came to a screeching, uncomfortable halt at his faux pas.

“we know you like seungkwan, but we didn't know you liked him that much, hyung.” jeonghan broke the tension saving his leader and ushering in some polite laughter. the commotion slowly began again and he turned back to you. his face looked normal, probably due to the makeup, but his neck was bright red. he was flustered, “they’re never going to let this go, baby.”

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #svt #seventeen fluff #svthub #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol imagine #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff

2K notes · View notes

phyrestartr · 4 months ago

Text

If We Had Lived (Divine Favour) | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader

W/C: 3k #SFW, fluff, mentions of past abuse, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, morally grey reader, DRABBLE

tags: @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Sit still.”

“I'm sitting fucking still, fox.”

Sukuna did not sit still. He shifted and huffed, not unlike an annoyed, restless bull locked up in a pen–only, he was far from being in a pen and could leave whenever he so wished.

Yet, he stayed. He endured the torture you, his prized possession, put him through for the sake of making good impressions or whatever. But the harvest festival was hardly a big deal–the last time the king was bestowed a gift of any value was when he found himself the owner of a beautifully annoying fox that hid in his garden for a fucking eternity. A prize like that was unlikely to be given again. What else could possibly excite the man who had everything?

Your tails swished behind you dramatically as you shifted on your knees, tilting your head to look over the work you'd done with cleaning and manicuring his nails and hands. Thankfully, you left callouses in place. Not that he thought you'd be so cruel as to remove them, but you certainly had the ability to, considering how soft your own hands were.

“How much more?” Sukuna grumbled.

Your eyes flicked up to his for a moment before returning to your task. “I've hardly finished one hand.”

The king scowled as a child might as you continued gently pushing at his cuticles with the slim, soft stick of an orange tree, carved specially for this occasion. Sure, he was the one who demanded you to turn your self-preening onto him, but still--

Your soft, warm touch cupped under his jaw and lifted his pouty gaze to meet yours. “You asked this of me,” you reminded. “If you've changed your mind, I've other tasks to attend to.”

Sukuna’s lip twitched in an ugly, childish snarl. “You'll stay here and finish your job.”

“Very well.” You leaned up toward him and kissed the spot between his brows before sitting again. But Sukuna followed you, bowing his head to chase a proper kiss that you gave freely, the kind spirit you were. “Then you will have to sit still.”

“Tch.” But he obliged to the best of his abilities. “Already gonna have to sit still for hours while those damn peasants show up and dump scraps at my feet,” he sighed, pulling up a knee and resting an elbow on it.

“My, a kingly thing is complaining about fealty?” You wondered, sarcastic yet cripplingly honest. “While I understand your unwillingness to do anything but fight and kill, you must remind those beneath you of your status.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Yeah? Then why isn't my kyuubi doing just that?”

“I am no king,” you said. “I am simply the servant of one, no? Given to him as a mere offering, yet kept alive for his amusement.”

“Huh. Guess you know your place.” Sukuna shifted, and he noticed you pick up the pace, tending to him a bit quicker lest the restless beast lose his patience and leave with the job incomplete. He wouldn’t leave, not when he hungered for your attention and touch more than anything else the pathetic world could offer him–only something from the divine plane could satiate him.

“Mh.” You raised his hand and pressed his knuckles to your lips, then against the soft plushness of your cheek. “My place is by my king’s side. It will forever remain that way.”

–

You left his side. You left him, your pious saviour, your sworn king, your chosen mate, in favour of–what? Freedom? Adventure? Men? Women? What was it?

Thunder echoed in Sukuna’s chest as he paced. He’d swept through towns, destroyed any houses you might have been sequestered in, searched vacant shrines and the like, but never caught a glimpse of your ebony tails nor your decorated kimono. It drove him mad. How had he not noticed? Did the harvest festivities really engulf his mind? Sure, they were more eventful this year, what with clansmen attempting revenge in the name of their fallen brethren, but it’d only been a week of problems–nothing challenging, nothing that really, truly required his full attention. And still–

“Sukuna-sama,” Uraume called, interrupting his buzzing thoughts.

“What?” The king snapped, turning on his heel to face Uraume standing at his chamber door. “If this is about anything other than my fucking fox, then–”

“Please, come,” they said. “I believe I’ve found an explanation.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. Uraume sounded calm, not that they ever sounded particularly frantic, but they seemed…happy, maybe? Some weird kind of content, perhaps. It wasn’t something Sukuna was used to seeing on their placid face, though it’d become more common ever since you entered their lives and made yourself at home. The frost sorcerer had a soft spot for you. Sukuna couldn’t blame them.

“Pray tell what the fuck the explanation is,” Sukuna grumbled as he followed his subordinate, arms all crossed and tensed.

“I’m certain I’ve found the whereabouts of your beloved.” Uraume slid open the door leading to the gardens in the back and walked on. “In the absence of (Name), I decided to tend to the gardens myself. In doing so, I found something quite peculiar–a hidden grove of sorts.”

Sukuna’s fury morphed into prickling, fiery intrigue. “Bullshit. I’ve been all over this fucking garden with that fox. I know the ins and outs.”

“Then it would not surprise me if he indeed kept this a secret from you.”

Sukuna grumbled. “He knows better.”

“I don’t believe it’d be intentional,” Uraume said, “but I believe his instincts may have influenced him to secure a quiet, safe place for the future.”

The king relaxed. Electricity sparked weakly in his fingertips first,then throughout the rest of his body when everything started falling into place–you wanted all eyes to be on him, you didn’t want anyone to look at you during the festival. Your cheeks had grown fuller, your body more plush, your desire to snuggle and snooze went through the roof. Could you have been–?

Uraume stepped toward a thicket of trees in the far corner of the garden–one that Sukuna indeed had never bothered with, considering it looked full of trees and foliage and definitely not a spot to meander on your shared morning walks–before ducking under thick branches and pushing aside flimsy bushes.

Sukuna followed with a little more brute force, nearly ripping the pesky foliage out of the way and half-considering decimating the trees that dare whip him in the face with a cluster of leaves. But you’d probably get pissy if he did that. A pissy fox was fun, but also withheld sex, and that was a no-go for Sukuna these days, considering his concubines just weren’t doing it for him as of late.

Sure enough, Uraume’s words rang true. The grove was small and cozy, letting in warm dappling sunlight while shielding itself from the prying eyes of the outside world. In the very corner of the garden and the evident centrepiece of the grove, stood an immense weeping willow, one with a formidable trunk and thick, gnarled branches reaching up to drape long curtains of green like cascading waterfalls around itself. Truly, it felt like a separate little world would be hidden in there, behind swaying vines and rustling leaves.

“You gotta be shitting me,” Sukuna muttered, stepping past his right hand to push aside the foliage, revealing a black fox curled up in the hollowed trunk of that very tree.

You didn’t stir when he approached. Something uneasy curled in Sukuna’s gut, but once he sat himself in front of the mouth to your little den, he spied the steady breathing shifting your small form, and calmed–until he saw something else wiggling against you, chirping and squeaking with pathetic, fragile voices. At first, he thought it was some sort of parasite sucking you of your lifeforce, but he realized too quickly that what he beheld were two, tiny kits, both covered in fluffy brown-black fur, both keenly aware of the presence of a curious new man sitting before them.

Sukuna tensed when they approached him. Their chubby bellies knocked their weak, stubby legs off balance, but they persevered best they could, bumbling their way through trampled leaves and grass, and finally reaching the crossed legs of the king. Tiny paws papped at his pant legs before they hazarded climbing the formidable mountain before them And despite Sukuna’s hesitation, he hastily held their butts before they fell off of him like the stupid, dumb babies they were. They were his stupid, dumb babies, after all. Best to take care of them.

“It appears he went somewhere quiet to nest,” Uraume hummed, sounding far too pleased as they watched the king handle fox kits. “Perhaps the festival was too stressful.”

“Tch. Could’ve shot the runts out inside,” Sukuna mumbled, half-heartedly annoyed. “Coulda said somethin’.”

“He could have,” Uraume agreed, an air of ‘but what’s done is done’ clinging to their words.

Sukuna sighed. “What a pain in the ass.” His eyes flicked to you again. He expected you to wake up, to snap at him like the feral thing you were. He expected you to calm after recognizing him. Maybe he expected you to curl up in his lap, too. Or did he just want that?

But you stayed sleeping. Content and safe under the shelter of your lover and the stalwart embrace of a weeping willow. Perhaps it was thanking you for your kind care with the way it soothed your soul and kept you hidden away. Sukuna wouldn't doubt it for a second. The garden acted differently ever since you claimed it as your own.

“Shall we take them back?” Uraume asked.

The king thought for a long moment, sifting through selfish desires and rational decisions before coming to his conclusion: “Leave ‘em. He'll probably throw a damn fit if we interfere. You know how gods are–annoying and irrational as hell when they don't get their way.”

His subordinate smiled. “Very well.”

–

Winter’s first frost came, and you returned to his side.

You woke him with a classic move–standing on his chest and staring at him expectantly until he woke up and gave you attention. You didn’t do it as much anymore, not ever since you found yourself in the midst of a thousand responsibilities and daily quests, but every once in a while, like when your lover would return from long journeys, you’d pester him endlessly for pets, scritches and kisses.

But this time, once his heavy eyes opened, he not only saw you standing atop his chest, but a chubby pup caught in your maw, too.

Sukuna blinked away his grogginess just as you gingerly placed the babe on his collarbone, tucking him underneath the king's chin. One of his large hands flew up to ensure the kit (his kit) didn't slip off when you let go and trotted away with purpose.

“Fox,” Sukuna grumbled, displeased with your hasty retreat. Thankfully, you trotted back up to him a handful of moments later and placed a second ball of fluff on his chest before settling down beside him and watching.

“Tch. Took you long enough,” the king huffed as he tried his damndest to be careful and gentle with the little ones. “Was about to drag your sorry ass in here myself.”

I see. If you were so desperate for my company, you could have simply requested it, you countered.

Sukuna sucked his teeth and huffed. “Like it woulda been that easy.” Nothing was that easy with you–and Sukuna liked it. If you gave in, if you tended to his every fleeting want and need, you'd be too boring, frankly.

It is unlike you to not try. You shifted and wormed your way into his arms and half onto his chest, right beside the two snoozing kits you'd worked hard to bring up while Sukuna was off fighting, killing and maiming. But that was expected; servants and bedded beasts were to stay and make a home, weren't they?

“Tch. I let you have your way for once and this is how you act?” Your partner admired your foxen features and traced his fingertips along your snout, between your eyes, to the top of your little skull before scritching behind your ears. You leaned into the touch, eyes falling closed with the meagerest offering of affection.

Shall I praise you and bow at your feet once I am able? You teased.

“Bending over'll do the trick.” Sukuna smirked when you huffed. “How long you gotta stay as a shitty mutt anyway?”

Until they wean. I'm not certain as to how long that will take.

“Not even a guess?”

Perhaps another week or so. You turned your nose to the two small fluffs and groomed the tops of their heads. They're becoming more independent. More willing to explore. I take that as a good sign for their development.

“Huh. Good.” A strange coil relaxed in Sukuna's chest, and he braved petting them with a single finger again. “‘N how long ‘til these two learn to play human?”

Not for some time, but I will help them until they master it themselves. You nipped at Sukuna's hand as a third rose to come pester you. You should not pray for them to be human too soon. They will terrorize you. I have seen such chaos before.

Sukuna grinned. “Ho? You forget who their father is?” Your sigh echoed in his mind, and his smile split wider. “I can handle anything.”

–

Kazuya and Genji took too much after you and your mischievous heritage.

Too often Uraume would find them in baskets of produce, happily munching away like they were supposed to be in there. Other times, they'd be caught stealing shiny jewelry or knick knacks from the king's concubines and servants. They'd sometimes even take Sukuna's clothes and run amok with them, using them as toys or completely shredding them.

You, he who had birthed and raised them, were swift when it came to correcting them. You were, of course, the prime example of a kitsune, and therefore found their treasure stashes, foretold of their destructive crimes, and knew when they'd be off to steal food. You were like them, once, after all.

And maybe that's why you had a peculiar pep to your step. Once the boys found their devious personalities, you bothered lifting your tails from the floor. No longer did you let them drag and droop like limp noodles hanging from chopsticks. You seemed…prouder. Livelier. Perhaps being amongst your own gave you a sense of belonging, of hope.

Belonging, huh? Tch, what a load of shit. Sukuna mused as he rested his cheek against his fist, lounging while he watched you wrangle the twins from his spot under a shady tree. Spring was here, and that meant the runts were now terrorizing the great outdoors.

More accurately, they were following you around like two tiny shadows, too eager to waddle after you as you moved along the paths, sowing seeds and pruning withered leaves as you went. The tots picked up whatever your tending cast to the ground, and they held each thistle, leaf and twig close in tiny, pudgy hands like they were rabbit's feet. Strange little things.

He lost sight of you and the bumbling babies eventually, but your light chatter flitted through the brush and kept him company for a time. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot accompanied your walk as you came back around, closer and closer and–through the garden itself? Wait–

“RAH!” A little voice cried before a littler body launched onto Sukuna.

“Ha?” The king quirked a brow and looked at the little thing biting and kicking at his arm like a spastic cat. “What the hell is this?”

“He's trying to play with you,” you said as you wandered back into view, voice airy and light. “They wrestle.”

Sukuna held his arm up to get a better look at the runt nibbling on him. “This is supposed to be playing? Damn thing's acting feral.”

“Because he's young.” You settled down beside your lover, adjusting your robes and such to ensure they cascaded and pooled around you attractively. “One day, he'll ask you to teach him how to fight. How to use cursed techniques.”

Sukuna's expression almost softened. “Huh. That so?”

“Mh.” You smoothed Kazuya's hair back as he settled in your lap, choosing peace over violence, unlike Genji. “They are yours. I've no doubt they'll have the same hunger for strife and knowledge.”

They are yours. The words nearly made Sukuna sick; they weren't his per sè, they were a result of his relentless attempts to tie you down and make you stay with him no matter the cost. They only shared half of his genetics, they didn't rule his every thought nor own half of his heart. That all belonged to you.

But then why did he feel…trepidatious? The way he once felt too long ago when he knew nothing of the world and met too many cruel hands from the moment he opened his eyes. Maybe because these little ones were that age, able to run around and cause problems where they ought to not. Maybe because messing with the wrong person might not end with them slaughtering he who had the audacity to harm them, but with their young lives being lost.

Ah. That must have been it–the petulance of his own kind pissed Sukuna off to no end. The thought of extensions of himself being looked down on brought about creeping waves of disgust and distaste. Humans were the ones who thought themselves godly enough to kill Sukuna. Humans were the ones who thought themselves mighty enough to enslave and breed a divine beast. The little ones were destined to share humanity's ire, and it pissed him off. It really pissed him off.

“Yeah,” Sukuna decided, shaking his arm to test Genji's ability to cling onto him. “I'll show ‘em a thing or two. Can't have humans beating the shit outta some godlings just for fun.”

“Well, if one were to try, I'd kill them myself,” you cooed like it was the most romantic thing in the world. “Level their village, light the sky ablaze.”

“Now you're speakin’ my language,” Sukuna said, grinning.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #cw: abuse

464 notes · View notes

cower-before-power · 7 months ago

Text

Holy, Holy, Lover Divine

Pairing: Gale x Fem Reader

Summary: You've never felt worthy of praise, until it's Gale kneeling at your feet.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, religious imagery, Gale may get a bit blasphemous ha

Word Count: approx 1300

A/N: Just another little Gale ficlet because I love him so much and this idea has been in my head for ages. Thanks for reading!

In this moment, you feel divine.

The term has followed you around, exaltations such as “saviour”, or “goddess” leaving the lips of those you’d saved. But it had never felt right, never felt like such praise should be heaped upon a mere mortal. Right place, right time, is what you always assumed should be your words. A simple soul who simply had the means to do what needed to be done. Hardly god-like, hardly worthy of the celestial.

But here, in the privacy of your bedchamber, under the gaze of your beloved, you finally understand that you are holy.

“You are beautiful,” Gale breathes, dark eyes roving over your face, your body, “I swear, there is no more magnificent creature on this plane or any other.” You feel your skin heat beneath your new nightgown, a flimsy scrap of gossamer lace you’d chosen with him in mind. It seems to be well appreciated.

“Don’t let the gods hear such blasphemy,” you murmur, wanting to both further expose yourself to him as well as shyly hide away, “a few of them might disagree.”

Gale shrugs, and you watch the motion of his broad shoulders greedily. “Let them hear me. I no longer care what she….what any of them think of me, of who and what I devote myself to. That right was lost long ago.”

Your eyebrows raise, but you are not surprised. Magic may still be bound to a goddess, but your lover has long stopped bending a knee. Prayers are offered not out of love, but duty, necessity. He gives thanks for the Weave, for spells and knowledge. But he hungers for her treasures no more.

She has long lost his piety, and you do not complain.

“Oh?”, you say coyly, shifting so your gown slides further up your thighs. You do not miss Gale’s eyes following the movement intently, and your skin burns with want. “And what are you devoted to now, Gale of Waterdeep? Where does your worship lie?”

Gale strides towards you, slow and measured, like a cat waiting to pounce. You know what he will say, but you want to hear it all the same. You want to bathe in it, this new feeling of righteousness, of being the idol of such great love and passion. This man makes you feel as if you have wings on your back and a halo over your head.

You vow you will not squander it.

“I am in service of a new goddess now,” he says, and mirth twinkles in his lust-glazed eyes. Your lips quirk upward-your wizard of words is about display his prowess.

“This,” he gestures to the room you share, to the bed you’ve come together in more times than you can count, “this is my temple. The sacred place I give my humble sacrifices, make my loving prayers, pledge my undying service.”

He’s close enough to touch now, bare chest within reach of your gluttonous fingers. Before you can grasp what you crave, his catches your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press small kisses to your fingertips.

“These are my offerings,” he guides your hand to touch his temple, down to his chest, and further, further, until your finger brush over his desire. You whimper eagerly. “My mind, my heart and my body, all given freely and eagerly to please the one who has saved me time and time again from my own folly.”

He drops your hand and nudges your legs apart, sinking to his knees as he slots himself between them. You think you might combust with how hot the flame of passion is burning within you. Gale never fails to set you on fire from the inside out, but it seems tonight he aims to upstage himself.

“This is my altar,” his voice grows more sinful, his eyes even darker, “the place I will kneel in reverence eternal. Day after day, night after night, I will worship here, a thrall in my Lady’s service. For as long as she will have me.”

He leans forward, lips pressing against your inner thigh. You mewl softly, threading your fingers through his silky hair. Encouraged by your ragged breaths, he roams the giving flesh freely, littering your thighs with warm, bruising kisses.

“These are my hymns, my canticles of homage. I will bestow them upon every inch of this heavenly flesh. As many and as often as my Lady allows."

A gentle, teasing kiss is placed over your smallcothes. You gasp and tug him closer, a spark of white hot pleasure shooting up your spine.

“Gale,” you beg, thinking you may just go mad from his teasing, his honeyed words. “Gale, please-“

But instead of continuing, Gale pulls back and surges upwards, capturing your mouth in a heady kiss. You delightedly take what you are given, groaning as his taste explodes on your tongue. You will never get enough of kissing him, you decide. Gale always kisses you like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. Like he's trying to merge not only your bodies, but your very souls as well.

It never fails to set you on fire.

“This is my baptism,” he pants as he breaks your kiss, fingers flexing on your thighs, barely concealed restraint pulled taught like a bowstring. “I am cleansed of my sins, my foolish ideals, my bitter and lonely existence. To feel my Lady's love and desire in every kiss, every touch, every time I am inside of her- it is to be born anew."

Gale does not stay parted from you for long; his lips soon find their way to your neck, his fingers brushing your sensitive skin reverently.

And you are drowning. You whine and whimper and mumble intelligible pleas as your lover ravishes you with lovebites and praises. You fingers tangle in his hair and you pull-the groan that rumbles from his throat nearly makes your eyes kiss the back of your skull.

“Let me worship you,” Gale moans into your skin, pushing the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. His mouth ghosts over the tops of your breasts. Gooseflesh rises in it wake. "Let me show you my supplication."

"As if you aren't already," you giggle breathlessly, falling back on the bed as Gale crawls over you. You welcome the heat of his body as it hovers above yours, close but not nearly close enough.

"Oh, you know I can do so much more," he grins wolfishly, eager hands helping you to slip off your nightgown. When you are spread nude before him, he slides out of his own trousers, laughing as your eager hands grope at every inch of bare skin they can reach.

"Shall I love you now, my Lady?" he asks, settling between your legs. A gentle hand cups your cheek, and you melt into the tender touch. "It is all I desire."

You brush a stray lock of hair away from his beautiful brown eyes. Happiness bleeds through the air around you, encasing the two of you in a world all your own. A sanctum most sacred and blessed.

"Love me then,” you sigh dreamily, “love me, and know how much I love you in return, you darling, wonderful, worthy man.”

And oh, how you are adored! How your lover makes your body and soul sing, more radiant and joyous than a choir of angels. How he plays your desire over and over, bliss unending, until you are left boneless and spent, a puddle of happiness in his arms.

And as you lay cradled carefully against Gale, enveloped in his ardor, you feel as if you are weightless. There is no more stain upon your soul, no mortal tarnish on your skin. No fear, no insecurity, no wondering. You are eternal. You are blessed.

You are divine.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #my writing

728 notes · View notes

writingwithcolor · 8 months ago

Text

Desi Parenthood, Adoption, and Stereotypes

I have a story set in the modern day with supernatural traces, with three characters: a young boy, his bio dad, and his adoptive dad. The boy and his bio dad are Indian, the adoptive dad is Chinese. The bio dad is one of the few people in the story with powers. He put his son up for adoption when he was a child because at the time he was a young single father, had little control of the strength of his powers: he feared accidentally hurting his child. The son is adopted by the other dad, who holds spite to the bio dad for giving up his son since he lost his father as a young age and couldn't get why someone would willingly abandon their child. This also results in him being overprotective and strict over his son. When the child is older, the bio dad comes to their town and the son gets closer to him, which makes the adoptive dad pissed, mostly acting hostile to the other guy, paranoid that he'll decide to take away the child he didn't help raise. Later when they get closer he does change his biases. I can see the possible stereotypes here: the absent father being the darkskinned character, the light-skinned adoptive dad being richer than the bio dad, the lightskinned character being hostile and looking down on the darkskinned character, the overprotective asian parent, the adoptive dad assuming the bio dad abandoned the son. The reason for his bias isn't inherently racist, but I get how it can be seen that way. Is there a way to make this work? Would it be better to scrap it?

Two problem areas stand out with this ask:

You seem confused with respect to how racial stereotypes are created, and what effect they have on society.

Your characterization of the Indian father suggests a lack of familiarity with many desi cultures as they pertain to family and child-rearing.

Racial Stereotypes are Specific

Your concern seems to stem from believing the absent father trope is applied to all dark-skinned individuals, when it’s really only applied to a subset of dark-skinned people for specific historical/ social/ political reasons. The reality is stereotypes are often targeted.

The “absent father” stereotype is often applied to Black fathers, particularly in countries where chattel slavery or colonialism meant that many Black fathers were separated from their children, often by force. The "absent black father" trope today serves to enforce anti-black notions of Black men as anti-social, neglectful of their responsibilities, not nurturing, etc. Please see the WWC tag #absent black father for further reading.

Now, it’s true many desis have dark skin. There are also Black desis. I would go as far as to say despite anti-black bias and colorism in many desi cultures, if one was asked to tell many non-Black desis from places like S. India and Sri Lanka apart from Black people from places like E. Africa, the rate of failure would be quite high. However, negative stereotypes for desi fathers are not the same as negative stereotypes for non-desi Black fathers, because racially, most Black people and desis are often not perceived as being part of the same racial group by other racial groups, particularly white majorities in Western countries. Negative stereotypes for desi fathers are often things like: uncaring, socially regressive/ conservative, sexist. They are more focused around narratives that portray these men as at odds with Western culture and Western norms of parenting.

Desi Parents are Not this Way

Secondly, the setup makes little sense given how actual desi families tend to operate when one or both parents are unable to be present for whatever reason. Children are often sent to be raised by grandparents, available relatives or boarding schools (Family resources permitting). Having children be raised by an outsider is a move of last resort. You make no mention of why your protagonist’s father didn’t choose such an option. The trope of many desi family networks being incredibly large is not unfounded. Why was extended family not an option?

These two points trouble me because you have told us you are writing a story involving relationship dynamics between characters of both different races and ethnicities. I’m worried you don’t know enough about the groups you are writing about, how they are perceived by each other and society at large in order to tell the story you want to tell.

As with many instances of writing with color, your problem is not an issue of scrap versus don’t scrap. It’s being cognizant of the current limits of your knowledge. How you address this knowledge deficit and its effect on your interpretation of your characters and the story overall will determine if readers from the portrayed groups find the story compelling.

- Marika.

I have one response: what? Where are the father’s parents? Any siblings? Is he cut off? Is he American? A Desi that has stayed in India?

Estrangement is not completely out of the question if the father is Westernized; goodness knows that I have personal experience with seeing estrangement. But you haven’t established any of that. What will you add?

-Jaya

#Black #Indian #South Asian #Desi #absent black father #stereotypes #tropes #adoption #colorism #research research research #parenting #strict Asian parents #Asian families

658 notes · View notes

wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 9 months ago

Text

Little Girl Gone

Been a While Since My Head Was This Polluted (3)

Mob Boss!Natasha x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader, Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!, Starts with smut, some angst, and a lot of fluff. There are depictions of abuse (physical and s*xual) please read at your own caution, knife play, Dark!Daddy!Natasha, Nat has a dick, use of a whip, breeding, Nat doesn't give aftercare, Wanda does help with aftercare.

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: I normally don't write Nat like this, and it was actual hard given my own past, but in this story, Nat is the bad guy, unfortunately for her.

Your knees ached as a harsh slap came across your face, a wet pop as her cock fell out of your mouth leaving you gaping and drooling. You stared up at her, eyes hazy and glossy. You’d allowed yourself to fall into subspace just so you didn’t have to think about it anymore.

“I know you can do better than that slut.” Natasha growls, gripping your cheeks and pulling you back onto her cock. She holds the back of your head still while she pounds against your face, gagging and choking on her member as she hits the back of your throat. Drool falling onto your tits and lap. A different wetness pooling between your legs.

You hated Natasha and how she treated you, you truly did, but still your body reacted like this because she had trained it to do so. As much as you tried to stop it she still held this power over you. You could tell she was getting close and as your braced yourself to take her load down your throat she pulled out. Looking up at her once again she looked down at you with anger as she gripped your hair, not giving you a chance as she started to pull you by your hair to the bed.

The sensation burned against your scalp as you stumbled and struggled to keep up with Natasha as she threw you against the bed. You heard the familiar sound of her knife making your eyes widen.

“N-Nat-“ Her knife against your throat in an instant. Eyes wide and cold looking insane as she stared at you.

“That’s not my name.” She pushed the knife further against your throat; terrifying you.

“Daddy! Daddy! I’m sorry!” The knife was pulled back slightly as she smiled down at you.

“Good slut.” She let the knife scrap against your skin, not enough to cut just enough to leave raised red lines across your skin. It’s not like she had never actually cut into you, because she had and you still look at the scars everyday.

“D-Daddy...c-can we not use the k-knife?” your voice wavers and she stops a moment before letting the knife dig in ever so slightly making you yelp in pain.

“You aren’t supposed to be thinking big thoughts right now.” She pulls away, letting the knife fall while she goes off to grab something. When you looked you noticed exactly what she had pulled out; a whip. Fumbling back slightly at the memories of her using that on you. “Stomach. Now.” When you hesitate she flip's you herself sending down a harsh impact which would definitely leave its mark as will all subsequent hits as she grabs your hips, pulling you towards the edge of the bed so she can plow into you.

As her hips move at a painful force, stretching you out painfully as she continued the assault on your back you cried out, tears streaming down your face.

“S-sorry Daddy...m’sorry....please Dadddy!” You mumble out the only coherent thing you can manage as she continues until she’s grunting and moaning over you. The whipping has stopped only to be replaced with her much cooler body against your hot back feeling a bit of relief until her mouth starts biting into your skin, leaving their own marks as you scream out.

“Mmmm love hearing your screams baby girl and those tears of yours are more beautiful than ever. Fuck you’re gonna make Daddy cum. You’re gonna take all of it like a good girl right? Daddy’s gonna fill you up and breed that pretty pussy till it’s all full.” She growled in your ear, biting along your neck.

“Yes Daddy! Daddy!”Was all you could manage in hopes that once this was over it would be over as you felt her fill you up and groaning. It had been so long since you had felt that as Natasha pulled your face to kiss you roughly as she continued to cum inside of you, biting her bottom lip roughly, tugging as you tasted her blood in your mouth. Smirking as you pulled away from her. Her blood in your mouth and dribbling down your chin. She was pissed off until she saw that look on your face and it turned into one of her seeming almost impressed.

“Ready for round 2?” She smirked and your face paled. You should have known Natasha was never satisfied with one round.

============================

You managed to stumble into your room, not even really noticing Wanda until she was at your side. Her words didn’t register at first since aftercare wasn’t something Natasha didn’t care for you were still trying to pull yourself together. Wanda gently pulled your face to meet hers as she took in all the marks she could see and you took her in.

“Y/N did Natasha do this to you? Did she hurt you?” Wanda’s words finally becoming clear to you. Words were hard right now as you took Wanda gently by just her pointer finger, tugging gently back to the bed. Moving the book she had been reading out of the way as you got onto the bed and so did she.

You looked at Wanda for a moment looking into her eyes and she cupped your swollen cheek. “Did she hurt you because of me?” You shook your head. Pushing lightly on her shoulder until she laid back and you gently and carefully cuddled up against her side. You let out a shaky sigh of relief as you breathed in Wanda’s scent of vanilla. As careful as Wanda tried to be with holding you recognizing that you needed it in this moment though every touch hurt it did still bring you comfort as you closed your eyes.

Wanda starts singing softly, a lullaby, you assume at least since she’s singing in Russian which you’d recognize anywhere now. You’d only ever been yelled at in Russian, but Wanda made the harsh words that had normally been thrown at you so soft, you could almost fall asleep like this.

Eventually as you slowly come out of subspace thanks to Wanda you tighten your grip on her, looking up at her and she gives you a soft smile,

“Hi...welcome back dorogoya.” You give a small smile back.

“I’m sorry about that...”Wanda shakes her head.

“No don’t none of that. Whatever it is that you did you did an amazing job Dorogoya. You needed to rest a bit and that is perfectly okay. I’m here for you. You saved me and my boys so the least I can do is be your pillow while you come back to reality.” Wanda cups your cheek so gently, in a way that you aren’t used to and you’re half expecting a slap to come, but it doesn’t all Wanda does is gently rub circles with her thumb.

“Thank you then. I appreciate it.”

“We still need to clean your wounds. I didn’t want to bother you before you were ready, but your shirt is sticking to you by blood. We need to wash your face too. Come on lets go to the bathroom. I saw the big first aid kit you have in there.” Wanda helps you up. “Come on Dorogoya. I’ve got you.” You almost forgot what it’s like to be doted on by a mom.

She gets you to sit on the lip of the tub which is 1. Huge, and 2. Surrounded by its own ceramic tiling so sitting there wasn’t so dangerous.

She helped get you out of your shirt and tank top which hurt immensely as the half dried blood stuck to the shirt, making the wounds all reopen.

“Fuck.” You hissed as Wanda coos and soothes you back down. Getting a warm, damp towel for your back. You grip your hands into fists and cruse Natasha for this and then yourself for allowing it to happen.

“What did she do?” Wanda asks trying to distract you.

“She agreed to leave you alone if I slept with her one last time.” You admit to the red head.

“And you said no that’s why you’re so beat up, right?” You don’t answer and you don’t dare look at her. You know you’ll break if you do. “Right, Y/N?” You shake your head. “What do you mean no?” She gently pulls your chin to look at her. “She did this to you while...” Wanda’s voice trails off when she sees the the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I did this so it doesn’t happen to you. I won’t let her touch you. Ever.” Your hand finds her thigh and grips. “I promise. Even when you and the boys leave. I won’t let her. If she ever did....I’d kill her.” A heat rises in your chest, anger. You’d never been angry at anything Natasha did to you, but the thought of her doing those same things to Wanda? To the boys? Your blood boiled at the thought.

“Y/N....dorogoya...” She cupped both your cheeks letting your foreheads rest against each others. “I don’t ever want to see you like this again because of her or anyone else for that matter. Seeing you walk in like that scared me. I was so worried especially seeing all that blood on you. I was so worried. I know you don’t want to see me like this, but I also don’t want to see you like this now that I have and I know how it makes me feel.” Wanda’s voice was breathy and full of emotion. Tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her thumbs rubbed against your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. I promise.” You lean into one of her hands, closing your eyes as you move against it.

“Thank you. Now let’s finish getting you all cleaned up.” Wanda smiles blinking away the tears as she starts working again.

You couldn’t properly put into words how appreciative you were of Wanda taking care of you, giving you the after care you needed desperately in that moment.

As she bandaged you all up she helped you put on some loose and comfy pajamas already saying, ‘work is done for today. Carol can handle it.’ Which made you laugh as the two of you headed to the kitchen.

=============================

“Oh I am so going to kick your ass!” You call out as you clicked a button letting the blue shell go hitting Tommy in game as you passed him and took first place. Jumping up and doing a little victory dance.

“Y/N could you go easy on them? They’re children.” Wanda calls over her shoulder from the other side of the room where she was reading a comic.

“Sorry Wands Mario Kart is a cruel game and you must learn at a young age patawan.” You smirked at Tommy grabbing him in a hold and giving him a noogie as he tried to squirm away.

“I’m gonna win next time!” Tommy called out.

“You’re on little man.” You look over at Billy. “You want in on this round mister man?” Billy shook his head. He tended to not like competitive games and that was fine with you.

You play a few more rounds with Tommy until he wins one and that’s enough for him before he’s whining over the couch, “Mom what’s for dinner?” He asks and Wanda looks up and at you.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Don’t you have cooks and maids? Shouldn’t you know what they’re making?” She asks and you shrug.

“They cook what I ask them to. I don’t eat much so they always wait until I go and ask. They give me a few options and I either pick from them or I tell them what I want.” You look at the boys who have mischievous looks on their faces. “No you are not allowed to ask for desserts for dinner. Proper dinner boys!” You call after them as they rush out the door and you hear them both go “Awww man...” You and Wanda share a laugh as she sets the comic down on the table and gets up.

“Let’s go make sure they don’t bribe the cooks.” Wanda says as she walks past you.

It’s been a week now since she’s been here. Natasha has left you both alone for the time being. Wanda hadn’t mentioned anything about wanting to leave, but after that night with Natasha she always hugged you before you left saying, ‘Be safe. We’re here waiting for you to come home safe.’ It warmed your heart to know Wanda was thinking of your house as home.

As the two of you walk down the long hallway to the kitchen your hands brush against each other. You notice Wanda pull back slightly with a blush on her face and you bite your lip before reaching out to hold her hand. Letting your fingers lace together. You look over at her and smile, she gives you a smile back.

“Is this okay?” You ask.

“Yeah...this is okay...more than okay...” She reassures you, not letting go until you two are just at the kitchen’s threshold, the twins trying to convince the cooks to cook them some sweet treat filled dish that Wanda sighs and goes to put an end to it as you lean against the big kitchen island, watching the domestic moment, wanting to join in on it, but holding yourself back.

“How about tendies and fries!?” You finally call out when the boys continue to try various ideas.

“Heck yeah!” Tommy calls out fist bumping the air.

“Yes! Can we do nuggets too?” Billy asks and you smile, walking over and ruffling his hair lovingly.

“Of course mister man.” You smile at the boys and look at the cooks. “Tendies, nuggets, and fries tonight.”

“Ma’am which kind of fries?” The head cook asks and you look at the boys.

“Curly.” Tommy says.

“Steak!” Billy overlaps with his brother.

“Shoestring.” You add after the boys and smile at the cooks before looking at Wanda. “Would you like anything sweetie or are you okay with the choices made?” Wanda smiles at you before requesting if she could cook her own dinner. “Of course you can sweetie. If that’s what you want to do. I’d love to try some of your cooking.” Wanda gives you a sweet smile before heading off with the cooks to see what was laying around as you watch her work while the boys run off to some fun corner of the house knowing they’d be called by one of the workers around the house once dinner was ready.

Wanda pulled her hair back into a half up do with a bun and pulled her sleeves up while she pulled out different ingredients while she did so you felt the presence of someone behind you.

When you looked you found Maya. The almost permeant scowl on her face was gone momentarily as you signed, “What’s got you smiling?”

“Made a good deal. We can talk after dinner. Just wanted to let you know I was back safe.” She signed back putting a hand on your shoulder, but Maya knew you better as you stood and hugged her. With your back turned to Wanda you didn’t notice the look she gave the, to you, seemingly small act of affection you tended to hand out amongst your found family.

=============================

The two of you are on opposite sides of the bed, the overhead lights have long since been shut off, but your bedside lamps created a soft glow across the room and the only noises to be heard were your clicking of keys against your laptop, going over some documents that had been sent your way for review. Every so often the turning of a page from Wanda’s side.

You pushed your blue light glasses up, rubbing your eyes and let out a yawn. You’d been at this for hours and felt like you barely made a dent since you had neglected them all weekend.

“Y/N?” You hear Wanda’s voice carry through the quiet room, turning your head to look at the woman you some how found yourself sharing a bed with. She took you looking at her as enough to continue. “That woman who came home just before dinner, is she like your girlfriend or something?” She asks with such a confidence and even a hint of jealousy that it makes you reel back a bit before you can even respond to the older woman.

“No. That’s Maya, she runs things with me. We were both in similar situations where we were used by someone else and in wanting to prove ourselves now find ourselves in charge of our own families now.” You take the laptop, setting it aside as you move closer to Wanda. “Maya and I found each other at probably our lowest points and if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t be where I am now. I owe her a great deal and vice versa, but there’s nothing between us. I’m just...I tend to remind everyone that it’s okay to still have emotions because Natasha tried to take that from me. She tried to take everything from me Wanda and I won’t let that happen to anyone I know. Everyone who follows me is allowed to feel whatever feelings they have. Anger, sadness, happiness, love...”

You find your eyes flicking between Wanda’s eyes and her lips. How could you even begin to think of anyone besides her? Sure the two of you weren’t together, but you found yourself sharing a bed. She’d see you off in the mornings, she’d give you hugs and chaste kisses on the cheek upon your arrival home, she’d help clean your wounds.

Wanda had wormed her way into your life in such a short time and she had you thinking about her constantly, you loved coming home where as you slipped off your shoes and suit jacket she’d round the corner to embrace you. Her warmth enveloping your whole being as her now familiar scent of vanilla bringing comfort to every fiber of your being.

“Y/N?” Wanda’s voice brought you back, making you take notice of how close you had brought yourself. A red flush covering Wanda’s cheeks. Instinctively you reach out to cup her cheek.

“How could I even think of wanting someone else when the most beautiful woman sleeps beside me every night?” You raise an eyebrow at her, your voice filled with confidence. You don’t think about it much before you let your lips connect. She’s so soft against your own as you feel her arms wrap around you, pulling you on top of her as she leans back. Your lips move against each other and you hear a soft moan from her.

You pull back, making her chase your lips momentarily before she gives up with a whine. You smirked down at her, leaning back in to kiss her forehead.

“If you want more you can have all the kisses you want.” You whisper against her forehead, she nuzzles against your cheek a smile playing on her lips. “If you want me that is...”

“Of course I want you Y/N...why would you doubt that?” Her voice waivers a bit as you pull back to look her in the eyes.

“Wanda, I’m the head of a mafia family. My whole life screams nothing, but danger. You have two ten year old boys to take care of-“ You’re cut off by Wanda kissing you once more, your train of thought completely derailed.

“You said it yourself Y/N there is no safer place than with you.” Wanda reminded you of your words. You look into her green eyes finding nothing, but love in them, feeling her fingertips run over the scars on your back.

She knows what’s she’s getting into. You know she does, and yet you are all she wants. There is no hesitation in her actions or words. So you have no choice but to let yourself fall into her.

#ley writes #ley speaks #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanov #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha x you

564 notes · View notes

juniefruit · 20 days ago

Text

☆ Caught in a Web ☆

☆ Spiderman! Jisung x fem! reader 18+

☆ Summary: Peter Jisung Han lived a double life. One, as your best friend since first grade. Second, as New York's one-and-only Spider-Man. For the past few years, his life has been... well, complicated. It only gets more complicated when you see something you weren't supposed to which, surprisingly, had some pleasurable consequences.

☆ Warnings: Kind of silly, monster encounter, friends to lovers, mutual pining, ji and reader are in college, piv, making out, fast progression, for mature audiences ONLY. MDNI.

☆ Word Count: 3.3k

☆ Notes: this has been a wip for soo long I thought about scrapping it. Posting it now to just finally get it out of my drafts. Couldn't decide on whether to keep the smut or not. But hey it's here so: smut readers, enjoy!

Police sirens.

Cars honking. Incessantly.

Subway cars screeching to a halt under your feet.

Skyscrapers towering above the crown of your head.

That was New York. Your humble city, the one that never sleeps. You know who also doesn’t sleep? Jisung. Your best friend you met your first year of Uni. Attached at the hip, you could probably complete each other’s sentences– if the other would ever stop talking.

University was its own battle, but having Jisung around made things that much easier. He lived in the apartment complex across the street, and sometimes you’d see the lights on in his window way past reasonable hours. But his skin was flawless nonetheless- not a dark circle in sight, not even on bad days. You could go on and on about him, his perfect hair, warm eyes, bubbly laugh. You would gush about him to your best friend- but you can’t, because he is that friend. So, you’re stuck screaming into your pillow from his astronomical charms.

The news anchor’s voice cuts through the air, the TV against your wall flashing with another breaking news headline. When your eyes scan the title, you grin. Spider-man saves dozens in East Manhattan, it reads. With a sparkle in your eyes, you phone Jisung. He never picks up anyway. But you couldn’t stay mad at him, no– not when he flashes you a lopsided smile and promises to buy you dinner as an apology.

7:53p.m:

You: Yo r u seeing this?? Spiderman’s on the east side!!

Missed Call

You wouldn’t call yourself a Spiderman fanatic– you just give credit where credit’s due. Try telling that to Jisung– In reality, you were enthralled with the masked man. He was just so cool and personable. He swung so gracefully through the city, catching everything from petty criminals to monsters even your nightmares couldn’t conjure up. You could see the outline of all his hard work under that skin-tight exo-suit, too. He handled news reporters like a champ- always knew what to say and how to leave you breathless. Until he swung off into a dark alley, until the next time his presence was needed.

You had given up on calling Jisung, knowing he was probably gaming or sleeping and couldn’t reach his phone. It was only until the news had moved on to the next headline that you felt the buzz of your phone, which you threw onto the other side of your bed in annoyance. Of course you picked up.

“Hey, y/n! Wanna tell me all about it?” Jisung spoke, almost too enthusiastic for how out of breath he was.

“Uh, yeah! Did you see that spin kick he did? It was mid-air too! And he totally demolished that one—” Jisung zoned you out, back against the brick wall, hand gripping his mask. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple as he caught his breath, silently. “Where even are you?” Your voice raised in annoyance. “And out of breath too?” Jisung looses a breathy laugh.

“Just went out on a run, cutie. Don’t you worry, I’ll be back soon.”

You don’t sound too convinced. “Okay… Just don’t get mugged.”

“I’ll try. Still on for lunch tomorrow?” Your heart skips a beat for no particular reason. You agreed and said your goodbyes, but you didn’t sleep until you saw the lights turn on in Jisung’s apartment. The next morning, the crisp air had a slight chill to it, indicating the beginning of fall. Maybe you were imagining it, but everything had that autumn vibe to it. The streets weren’t overly crowded yet, as you waited in line at the coffee shop on the corner. Class was starting in a few minutes.

“y/n, wait up!” You recognized Jisung’s voice from behind you. He had a scarf wrapped around his neck and shoulders in a warm brown color that suited him well. “Walk with me?” You nodded, sipping your warm drink. It was too early for this, you thought. You enjoyed the comfortable silence, and so did he. Class was okay… But it was always better when Jisung cracked a joke or two about that one kid who always raised his hand, or the typo in the professor’s slideshow. The day trudged along, until you were back in your brick wall apartment, Jisung splayed across your bed while you sat crisscrossed on your side. Occasionally, you mindlessly glanced over at the various band posters on your walls, or the fairy lights above your desk.

“Do you ever think we’ve walked past spiderman, not knowing it was him?” You spoke whatever came to mind.

“Uh, I don’t know, probably.” Jisung put on his best unamused voice.

“I hope he’s hot.” You sigh, dreamily. He chokes on air. “What?” You ask, turning to him, faking annoyance.

“That’d be great, yeah.” He laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“I mean, look at him! He’s got sooo many muscles!” You gesture to the TV, going through the daily Spiderman-appreciation segment. Jisung rolled his eyes. He really didn’t get the hype. All he wanted was to stop these dumb monsters and go on with his day. Maybe if the news didn’t blow him up so much, he would’ve told you already. But he can’t risk it.

“I’ve got muscles too, you know.” He didn’t want you to like Spiderman, he wanted you to like him. God forbid he gets a little jealous sometimes, even if he is technically getting jealous of himself.

“Yeah, but are you spiderman?” You ask, jokingly.

“Uh-” Jisung stammers. He was never good with confrontation. His heart was beating too fast and his ears were getting red. Breathing was getting difficult.

“That’s what I thought.” You fold your arms in victory.

“Goodnight, y/n.” Jisung got up from the bed in a hurry, shuffling over to where his shoes were by the door.

“Eh? Did I say something? Whatever it was, I’m really sorry-!” The sound of the door slamming cut you off. You raced over to your bedroom window, and waited until you saw the lights in his apartment turn on. It might’ve been stupid, but you tore a piece of paper out of your notebook, and in big sharpie ink, wrote, ‘sorry :(‘ and taped it to your window before getting ready for bed.

The next morning, Jisung had to blow off some steam. Quite the overthinker, he was. He didn’t see your message posted on your window, practically jumping into his suit and pulling his mask on, the rising sun set a golden glow across his form as he swung between stone brick walls and fancy office building glass. Leaves were turning various hues of red, orange and yellow. They fell like confetti from the tree branches that lined the streets. Screw my morning class, he thought, he could always pull an all-nighter to catch up. His superhuman energy meant he rarely felt tired. In the corner of his vision, the neighborhood coffee shop caught his eye. He could really go for a bagel. It’s gonna be one hell of a morning for the people in there, he thought as he swung down, and opened the door with a chime. Walking up to the counter clad in his suit and mask, the barista was too busy writing on a cup to acknowledge him, but he could hear the hushed whispers and surprised gasps of the cafe patrons.

“Welcome in, what can I get for you?” “Lemme get uhh-”

Jisung got that sudden feeling across his skin, like a wave of electricity. Something was about to happen.

BANG!

A loud explosion right outside, some of the window panes cracked. The ground shook in a deep rumble. So much for that bagel. Sprinting outside, A large crack in the asphalt was billowing steam. A little farther down, A heavy creature made of stone and mud was stomping down the road, laughing maniacally. Attempting an ambush, Spiderman launched a web at its back. Almost instantly the web string got stuck in the mud and was enveloped by the creature. Oh. At that, the monster stopped trodding, and slowly turned around. It had a face of assorted rough stones, kind of like a snowman. Jisung sighed. Alright, plan B.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked at the TV from your quaint living room, watching the fight go down on the live news broadcast. Sat in your comfy pajamas, you had decided to take today easy. Until now. Spiderman was leaping across building walls, launching strike on strike onto the monster. The cameraman was shaky, but you didn’t seem to care, as your eyes trailed every movement of spiderman’s agile maneuvers. All of a sudden you gasped, an idea striking you faster than a lightning bolt. If I leave now, I might have enough time to get there and meet spiderman in person! Frantically running to your closet, you changed into something lightweight and casual. Booking it down the apartment stairs and onto your bike, you recognized the location of the fight because that’s where you and Jisung would always get bagels after your morning class. The thought made you smile. Approaching the scene, you could hear the buzz of commotion. Right as you rounded the corner, you saw it: masses of mud and stone flying everywhere, shattering windows and denting cars. Steam was rolling off the creature, as if the sun was making it dry up. You abandoned your bike and quietly walked closer. They haven’t noticed you yet. That is, until one hit from the creature caught Jisung off guard and he tumbled onto the cement sidewalk, grunting on impact. You gasped in shock, covering your mouth. His mask scraped against the cement, ripping on the side, exposing his left side completely. The more he tried to fix it, the worse it got, until he angrily shoved the mask off with an annoyed look on his face.

“Happy now?!” He shouted. There were little scapes littering his cheeks from the rubble. The monster grumbled in response.

“Jisung?” His head whipped around at the sound of your confused voice.

“Y/n-” Oh shit. Oh, this was bad. Of all people, he thought. “Y/n, get back-!” His voice was strained as the monster launched another attack. He jumped out of the way, closer to you. “Just- run, please!” He exclaimed. You stood there, staring at eachother for a few seconds to confirm that that was really him and that you were really you. Reluctantly, you stepped back before Jisung ran after the monster. Your knees felt weak and you could feel your lungs running out of oxygen. You heard fire truck sirens quickly approaching, and the rest was a blur.

When you woke, the first thing your brain acknowledged was the plush feeling of your mattress under your fingertips. It didn’t make sense, but it was comfortable. Slowly opening your eyes, you took a deep breath in, mumbling something incoherent. The blinds in the window were only half closed, letting in the warm glow of the setting sun. Confused and tired, you tried picking yourself up, until a voice to your right interrupted your movement.

“Hey, take it easy,” Instead of making you feel giddy like it usually does, Jisung’s gentle voice made something like anxiety swirl in the pit of your stomach. He got up from his seat by your desk, walking over to lean closer.

“Do you feel okay?” He asked, eyes cautious. You must have been out for a few hours, because the scratches on his face were cleaned up, and his hair was neatly done. His silver drop earrings dangled in the light.

“No.” The anger was strating to set in.

“Alright.” He figured it was better for him to be quiet right now.

“Care to explain?” Or not, Jisung thought. Your voice was slightly hoarse, not an ounce of humor in the tone.

“I’m, uh, I’m… Spiderman?” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled nervously.

“You’re joking,” You don’t sound amused.

“You saw me yourself! You weren’t supposed to, but you did!” His hands waved in the air to defend himself. You groaned, running a hand along your face.

“Do you even know how embarrassing this is for me? I wanna die.” You whined in annoyance. All the times thirsting over him, screaming over him, and he means to tell you they're the same person? You’ve had a crush on two people, but it’s actually one? “You probably think I’m a major loser.” He loosed a breathless laugh at your confession.

“You know I would never think that.” He spoke with certainty. And you believed him. Mostly. “You’re my best friend. I think you’re, like, the coolest person ever. And hey, I won't lie, you also give me the biggest ego boost when you talk about how much you loooove Spiderman’s muscles.”

“Shut up!!” You swatted him away, but he didn’t budge. He snickered at your annoyed state. Teasingly, he pushed even closer, making you giggle. Your arms wrestled against his, until he tumbled onto the bed with you. Reluctantly, he let you catch your breath, laying shoulder to shoulder.

“You’re still my best friend, right?” You confessed. Truth be told, this was a huge reveal on Jisung's part. If he had to cut you off for your sake, it wouldn’t be easy, but you’d manage. You understood how troubling life in the spotlight is. He turned towards you, and you could almost feel his breath on your skin. It sent goosebumps up your spine.

“Yeah, I am. Of course I am.” His voice was just above a whisper, but he spoke with confidence.

“What if the news thinks I’m your girlfriend? You know how they are,” You rolled your eyes at the melodramatic tendencies of American news media.

“Would that… be so bad?” Jisung braced himself for the worst. He honestly wasn’t prepared for this, but if not now, when? You knew everything about him. Well, you do now. You were the one person he could truly let his guard down around and really be himself. You knew about all his favorite bands, his order at the corner shop, or even the route he takes to class that specifically avoids the news broadcasting station. He liked you. Like, liked you. There was really no other word for it.

“I’ll never let anything happen to you, y/n. I’ll make sure of it.”

He looked down at you with a wide, thoughtful gaze. His heart was racing. You finally let your brain catch up to your heart when you leaned in closer. He let you do so, but not moving an inch himself. Frankly, he was petrified. You carefully pressed your lips against his, measuring his reaction. It was only when you pulled away, your eyes scanning his face hesitantly, that he was thrown back down to earth from the euphoria that was you. He chased your lips as his brows furrowed in concentration, his warm palms coming up to cup your cheeks. You let out a hum in surprise, arching into him to feel his upper body against yours. The front of his body felt firm and defined even over the fuzzy sweater.

Jisung quickly became addicted to your body. He moved one palm lower, swiping over your neck and moving your hair out of the way in the process. He moved down; down your shoulder and to your waist. There, he squeezed you, trying to feel you through the barrier that was your sweater. Moving further down and stilling at your hip, he felt the edge of your jeans, wiggling his hand under the sweater to feel your soft lower waist. He let out a heavy exhale at the touch, and he didn’t even realize how big the tent in his jeans had gotten until you squirmed against him. He shifted your position so you were on your back against the bed, his hands exploring your body until they came to rest right under your bra. Jisung sprawled out above you, his sweater clung to his broad shoulders as he tried to regain his breath for the few short seconds his mouth wasn’t on yours.

“Still wanna see Spiderman’s muscles?” He grinned above you, out of breath. The desire in his eyes was unmistakeable, but with a hint of playfulness too.

“You’re insufferable.” You huffed, grabbing handfuls of the fluffy blue sweater and pulling it up and off his head. The planes of his chest overwhelmed your vision, his smooth skin driving you wild. His biceps bulged as he pulled your shirt off, his eyes drinking in your figure, scanning up and down. Impatiently, his fingers thread themselves into the belt loops of your jeans, tugging them down. You did the same to him. His hips were grinding against you in waves, like he couldn’t control himself. Your legs spread as far as possible to hold him closer. Jisung could feel the slow, aching throb spread through his dick, hissing through a clenched jaw. Your core felt his bulge, wetness sticking to your folds almost uncomfortably. Your hand glided against your hip until it reached the gusset of your panties to pull them to the side, holding them there. Pushing his boxers down, he finally slid his length through your lower lips, catching against your clit. One of his hands was balanced against your hip, thumb drawing circles against the skin. He leaned down to press a passionate kiss to your lips before his face moved to the side of your face, his deep breaths right by your ear. Pushing into your hole, he took his time adjusting. He moved slowly, shoulders shaking from the anticipation, whining through sealed lips.

“Sungie, you don’t have to wait-” You whined, squirming slightly.

“Shh, just let me have this moment,” He comforted you with a hand on your shoulder, his eyes closing from pleasure- Forcing himself to stay still despite the primal itch to just get on with it. The thrum of anticipation felt shockingly good. After a few moments pass, he drags the heavy weight of his cock out of your walls only to sensually thrust back in. Then, it was like the floodgates opened. Jisung gasped, starting to thrust in and out, his pace gradually speeding up. His hips rhythmically lift upwards to hit your lower belly, thighs slapping against your spread cheeks. Your moans kept him grounded, otherwise he feared he would lose himself in euphoria. His voice grew raspy the longer he groaned and moaned. His pace didn’t falter, even while your arms snaked up to wrap around his shoulders, bringing him closer. Your fingers wrapped around that little silver chain he always wears and tugged lightly. His dick reached deeper as he pressed himself against you, body hitting yours in all the right places. Your thighs lifted up to press against his outer hips, your walls squeezing with each push of pleasure from him.

“I’m, ah, close y/n-”. He hummed, lips pressed against the column of your neck. When your core squeezed around him, he whimpered at the feeling of his impending release.

“You can let go Sungie,” Your palm reassuringly rubbed against his broad back, feeling up the hard working muscles at the same time. His sounds grew higher in pitch until he eventually snapped, his pleasure triggering yours like a domino. For what seemed like hours, the only thing you could perceive was Jisung’s heaving form above you, and the climbing steps of your orgasm that finally crashed down in one fell swoop. Cum and slick gushed out and coated your joined bodies as you caught your breaths. With a hum, you looked over Jisung’s shoulder to realize the muted TV was still on the local news channel. He gave you a short kiss to your spit slicked lips before rolling to the side.

“Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

“Your face is all over the news.”

“Oh shit.”

Check my masterlist for more!

Warning: Everything I post is 100% my original writing & thoughts. This also includes the moodboards at the beginning, that I create. Please do not plagiarize or copy. Tag for inspiration or add-ons. Reblogs are appreciated! <3

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #skz x reader #skz #han jisung #stray kids jisung #jisung x y/n #jisung x reader #jisung x you #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #stray kids fanfic

340 notes · View notes

daycourtofficial · 4 months ago

Text

I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part XI

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 1.8k | Warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Previous part | Masterlist

Azriel knocked on Feyre’s door, a soft come in coming through before entering. Feyre sat at her vanity, braiding her hair back as she made eye contact with him through the mirror.

“Hi, Az.”

He smiled before softly shutting the door behind himself.

“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about?”

He nodded, his ears twinged slightly pink. “I’ve never let Rhys do this.”

“I understand.”

“And if you see anything too.. private…” His words trailed off, but Feyre raised a hand up, closing her lips with a lock and throwing away a key.

“My lips are sealed.”

He sat in the chair in the corner, back straight as Feyre sat in the chair next to him, a bit uncertain of how to sit - usually she spent her time in this chair reading books, not her friend’s memories.

“I was too scared for Rhys to see. I didn’t.. she didn’t.. she’d hate having him see her like that.”

Feyre nodded, “I understand, she didn’t want to have him accidentally seeing some part of her he shouldn’t.”

“No,” Az laughed, sensing where Feyre’s thoughts had headed, “no, she uh- she wouldn’t want him to see the vulnerability.”

“Mmm,” Feyre hummed lightly as Azriel relaxed into the chair. “And why’s that?”

Talking about you so openly was still strange for Azriel - you had remained a guarded secret for so long, a topic he spoke more on in these past few weeks than the past century.

“Rhys is a fixer. She hated being upset around him because all he wants to do is fix things.”

Feyre rubbed Azriel’s arm, a comforting touch in such an unfamiliar space. A moment passed in silence before Feyer spoke again.

“Let your mind drift, Azriel.”

And so he did.

His mind drifted across several centuries of time and space, centuries passing with no new memories of her. His thoughts flowed, bouncing from idea to idea, scrap of memory to scrap of memory. He felt Feyre’s presence in his mind, like she was hovering just over his shoulder through his thoughts.

It started with snippets - her hands, her mouth, her touch. It got more clear as he thought more and more - her neck , her eyes, her smile. He could make out her voice, telling him to “please take care of yourself, babe.” He felt her hands roam his body, her touch curious and navigating as she slid down his body, kissing down the front of him.

The scene changed to a more detailed scenario, the two of you cuddled in the library, tucked away in a cozy corner in front of a fireplace. You yawned as you got further into your book, nestling into his side more as your eyelids grew heavier.

A loud sound occurred in the back of his head, the memory version of himself looking around the room for the source. You stayed relaxed in his arms, your concentration undeterred.

Feyre’s urgent tone coming to him told him he wasn’t as safe as he thought. Azriel’s memories were murky, morphing into the surroundings of Feyre’s room, Feyre’s arms tightening around him as Rhys burst into their room. Chest heaving, he moved toward the pair, pointing at Azriel.

“She felt me. In her chest - she felt me. She felt how sad I was because she plays chess differently. What a silly thing for her to finally understand her powers over.”

Feyre and Azriel looked at each other, confused glances at Rhys’s rambling. He was stressed, pulling at the strands of his hair, his usually perfect hair strewn about.

“Azriel,” he pointed to his brother before straightening his posture, “you are not to spend any more time with her. Feyre and I will take over all duties regarding her.”

Azriel felt molten hot rage inside of him as he stood quickly, ready to sling snarls at his brother, but Feyre pushed him behind her, pointing a finger back at Rhys. “He will do no such thing.”

“Yes he will. She’s going to see him and she’s going to know something’s wrong. She’s not an idiot - she hustled me at chess. She’s going to figure it all out.”

Feyre couldn’t even figure out what he was talking about. “She’ll figure it out eventually!”

“Yes, but we want her to find out in a controlled way. Not like this.”

Azriel felt a sting in his chest, the insinuation at his untamed emotions. He felt like a small child having caught his parents fighting over him.

“No.” Feyre’s tone was final. “That’s a terrible idea, Rhysand. To keep her from her mate? For who knows how long?”

“She’ll find out if she sees him!” Rhys’s eyes were wide, the veins in his neck popping.

“Afraid she’ll figure it out and remember who she’s mated to?” Azriel pushed Rhys, a snarl coming from him at the provocation. “Just fucking say it Rhys, you hated her being mated to me and this way you get to rewrite it.”

“That’s not-” Rhys chuckled, his voice deepening. “Az, you have it wrong.”

“Do I?” Az shoved Rhys again, the High Lord responding by shoving Az right back, nearly avoiding the table.

“Yes. You have it wrong.”

“Because I’m too stupid to see why you’re trying to keep my mate from remembering me?” Shadows moved about the room, slithering aggressively as Rhys spoke of their mate.

“Rhys, you can’t keep him from her. She was progressing!” She yelled over their wrestling bodies, wincing as Azriel punched Rhys across the face.

“No, he’s finally gotten the perfect chance for a do-over! I was never good enough for her, and now he can find someone who is.”

“Rhys, if she figures it out, would it be so bad? The sooner the better, right? I mean it’s only been a few weeks, you left me in the dark for months.”

Rhys pushed off the ground, shoving Azriel down as he straddled him. He pushed his head into the rug, Azriel’s shadows pushing against Rhys to no avail. The High Lord avoided the conflicting voices of the room, opting to focus his energy on Azriel instead.

Azriel pulled his legs back, giving him momentum to swing his head up and headbutt Rhys on the forehead. The High Lord drew back, panting as he tried to get up. Azriel was quick on his feet, running forward into Rhys, knocking him back down. He held the High Lord down, yelling, “then what is it?”

“She’ll remember me!”

Azriel stilled, his hold on Rhys loosening. “What are you talking about?”

The fight had left Rhys’s body, his voice dejected as he let the truth he had been holding onto slip out softly. “She’ll remember how I didn’t save her. The two of you will leave.”

Feyre cooed from the side, “oh, Rhys.” She sat on the floor next to her mate, but she looked to Azriel instead, nodding to her mate when Azriel’s gaze met hers before flicking back down to his brother.

“Why would I leave, Rhys?”

“Can we have this conversation when you’re not on top of me?”

“No.” Feyre and Azriel answered in unison, their tones laced with finality.

The air was still for a long moment, the only sounds were Rhys and Azriel’s heavy breathing.

“You hated me after she died, Az. I can’t go through that again.”

Azriel watched Rhys’s eyes get red, the violet eyes he loves so dearly lined with silver, but it just confused him. “I didn’t hate you.”

“You blamed me for her death.”

“I blamed all of Spring for her death.” Azriel’s tone was devoid of emotion, as if the court itself all banded together to condemn his mate’s life.

“You wouldn’t look at me for years.”

Azriel slumped, his weight on Rhys’s chest releasing the air from the High Lord’s lungs. “I couldn’t..” He trailed off before taking a deep breath and trying again. “I couldn’t look at you. You looked just like her.”

Azriel’s words were soft, but they hung in the air. Azriel shuffled off of Rhys, sitting on the floor, leaning against their bed. “It was easier to be angry, but whenever I looked at you, it made me… it was like she was seeing me again.”

Rhys crawled to sit next to his brother, Feyre sitting on the other side of Az. The shadowsinger refused to look at either, unable to take their pitying looks, looking to his boots instead. “It was like she was watching me fail her after she died.”

Rhys blew air from his lips, something roaring in Azriel at the action. “In what universe have you ever failed her? The only way you ever failed her was that one time you let her win at cards.” A laugh came from his lips at the memory, the way you had stomped about at your mate’s deception and loudly fought with him over it, much to Cassian and Mor’s drunken amusement.

Az rolled his eyes, your huffing and puffing entering his mind. You had been so upset with him you didn’t want to look at him, but insisted he sleep in the same bed. You spent the night turned away from him, being an aggressive little spoon as he wrapped his limbs around you. “It was the hardest thing I had ever done, letting her win, and she didn’t even appreciate it. She wouldn’t look at me for days.”

You had refused to look at him, causing him to resort to any tactics to get the upper hand. His shadows had been very helpful in causing you to be needy for his touch, but he was quite annoyed with your defiance, going so far as to climb on top of him, but facing towards his feet as you rode him.

Rhys laughed, “the Mother has a sense of humor making the two most competitive creatures mates.”

Az pointed a finger at Rhys, “you’re no better! You said she hustled you. In what universe did you think you could ever beat her at chess?”

Rhys looked sheepishly to the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had hoped perhaps along with her memories went some of her skill and wit.”

Feyre’s hand reached across Azriel to smack Rhys’s chest, saying his name in a chastising tone. He held his hands up in surrender, “serves me right, she swindled me out of a line of credit in her name.”

Azriel laughed so loudly it startled Feyre. “Her favorite hobbies always were spending someone else’s money and conning you.”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage @panther-girl-124

I got cursed series taglist: @doodlebugg16-blog @ceoofyearning @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @willowpains @anarchiii @i-am-infinite @bsenpai @sstrohma @teenagellamaangel @allthatisbuck1917 @elsie-bells @rcarbo1 @pruvii @whyshouldihaveanam3 @sleepylunarwolf @slytherintaco

Thanks for reading ❣️

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel shadowsinger #azriel series #azriel x y/n #i got cursed like eve got bitten

287 notes · View notes

syoddeye · 3 months ago

Text

animal control

ghoap x f!reader | 1.5k cw: pet play, non-consensual touching a/n: no actual animal abuse is depicted. inspired by all the incredible pet fic i've been feasting on lately, particularly touch me 'till i vomit by @/cordeliawhohung and scrap metal muzzle by @/391780. i adore and admire you both. banner is by @/cafekitsune. ⛓️

you’ve only been in the new place a week, but you’re positive the neighbor is committing animal abuse.

each time you step out for an evening smoke, you hear pathetic whimpering from an old dog house over the fence. you’ve never actually seen the dog, but the shelter’s huge, maybe built for a shepherd or a mastiff. the stake hammered into the ground in front has a thick chain hooked to it, and its length disappears through the entrance.

you’ve tried throwing food and baby talk to lure the poor thing out of its hiding place, but nothing’s worked. it must be petrified with how it goes completely silent at your attempts. the thought of it shivering alone in its house keeps you up at night.

the icy downpour that picks up after dinner is the last straw. you stand at the back door, toe wedged into it to prop it open, and blow smoke into the wet and cold air. sad little whines punctuate the hammering of rain, pitchy and loud. like the dog wants attention, like it’s begging its owner to take pity on it. the sounds strike fury into your heart, an anger you pursue to your neighbor’s door.

huddled beneath the narrow overhang of the door, you wait for a response to your frantic, angry knocking. an answer arrives as you lift a fist to knock again. the door swings open to a pillar of black.

“yeah?”

big, tall, and as broad as the doorway, the neighbor glares down through a balaclava shoved to the bridge of his nose. dressed entirely in black, his arms test the knit of a jumper as he crosses one arm and picks at his teeth boredly with the other. scarred knuckles matching scarred lips. his eyes swallow the glow from the exterior light, flat and inexpressive, but his head tilts after a second, and they drop to your tits.

you hold onto your nerves with both hands. you can stomach a lech if it means helping an innocent creature. squaring your shoulders, you lift your chin and cut to the chase. “haven’t you ever heard of ‘if you’re cold, they’re cold’? seriously, can’t you hear him? i’m going to ring and report you for leaving your dog outside in this weather! and for all the other times!”

his gaze darts toward your flat, then returns to your face. “you’re the new neighbor.”

“yes, which is why i thought i’d address this directly first, before i call—“

“got a name?”

you inwardly fume at the interruption and ball your hands into fists to squeeze, all but hissing it at him.

he squints and licks his teeth, repeating your name with a sneer. “the mutt’s perfectly fine. unless you wanna check for yourself?”

the offer throws you. this is your first time confronting a criminal, but you don't think they typically allow people to witness their wrongdoings. it could be a bluff. given his stature, he's probably banking that you won't challenge him. perhaps, if you at least catch a glimpse and see if the dog's alright, you could sleep and still report him in the morning.

“as a matter of fact, i do. and your name?”

“simon. c’mon, then.”

when you turn to go to the garden gate, he clicks his tongue. “not gettin’ soaked out there, through ‘ere, pet.” he lumbers further into his home.

you hesitate with one foot off the stairs. simon stares from the center of his living room, and raises a single notched brow in a silent well?

you step inside.

he huffs and holds a hand up when you close the door and start to trudge after him, “oi. shoes off,” he barks, then mutters, “no better than ‘im.”

your socks squelch on the cheap parquet, and his eyes flicker down to them before crawling to your face.

“this way.”

simon leads you through the house; the floor plan is the same as yours, albeit mirrored. it’s obvious he’s lived here long enough to make modifications. dog gates screwed into the walls, blocking off the bathroom and stairs. a set of hooks bearing a lead and keys. scuff marks midway up the wall throughout the hallway.

“you always a bleedin’ ‘eart?”

“i’m an animal lover.” you deadpan.

he laughs.

you pause again at the threshold to the kitchen, staring hard at the glass door leading into his garden. bowls for food and water sit beside the door on a silicone pad, the name ‘soap’ engraved onto their rims. they do not sway you, though. the bare minimum can be met, and a pet can still be neglected.

before simon can scold you again, you tiptoe past the stringy remnants of meat and an empty bottle on his table. a strange little part of you is glad he’s eaten.

he pushes the door open, and rainfall fills the kitchen. he scratches at the stubble on his chin and peers at you, mouth curling into a grin. “just a tick.”

simon turns toward the dark, then whistles.

“soap! c’mere, boy. come greet our visitor.”

from across the yard, the chain clinks and uncoils. you hear the dog eagerly whine and you tiptoe closer until you’re beside simon in the frame. he shifts sideways to allow it, but it’s snug even with your arms and shoulders tucked.

out of the shadows, though, comes not a shepherd or a hound but a man. dressed in a ratty t-shirt and sweats, his head partly shaved, he lunges, eyes widening when he sees you. his advance cut short as he roughly jerks back, held at bay by the length of chain fastened to the collar on his neck. the pain deters him for all of five seconds before he futilely reaches for you, quickly becoming drenched in the process.

you shriek and skitter back, but the mass of simon’s arm swinging around your shoulders doesn’t let you go far.

this man, this soap, stands with his arms outstretched. chest heaving and body swaying as if he had a tail. one or two more links in his chain, and he’d be able to touch you.

for a moment, you simply gawk in disbelief. mind and body unable to align with the pure shock. then, soap’s teeth begin to chatter, puffs of air briefly form in front of his mouth, drool and spit glossy on the bit gag clenched between his teeth.

“well. look at tha’, ‘e is cold.”

simon’s hand fists your shirt between your shoulders to root you to the spot, and he reaches one long arm to grab soap’s collar. his fingers rest on the release for the buckle.

“would you like to warm ‘im up?”

you violently shake your head and shuffle uselessly, wet socks slipping on the floor as you try to escape his grip. “please no, no thank you. i didn’t mean to–“

simon ducks his head, nosing your temple. his breath reeks of meat and beer. “bit late for tha’ pet. you stuck your nose in where it don’t belong. you’re a dumb pup yourself, aren’t ya.”

soap makes a low sound in the back of his throat and retracts his hands. his elbows bend, and his hands curl into fists at his chest. he pants behind the bit, big blue eyes fixed on simon. begging and shivering.

the fabric of your shirt strains as you struggle, your head still dumbly shaking as words fail. “i’m not, i’m not–”

“you are, pet. practically a bitch in ‘eat. tossing my dog scraps, cooin’ at ‘im. you want soap to ‘ump your leg that bad?”

you don’t know who’s begging harder—you or soap. if he were a real dog, you think he’d be foaming at the mouth by now. you burst into tears.

“oh, puppy.” simon chuckles into your hair and plants a wet kiss by your ear. he quiets, dropping back into that unaffected tenor from when he answered your knocking, and shushes you. “can’t fault you for being soft, can i? no, i can’t…”

you sniffle and choke back a sob, eyes glued to soap, watching his expression fall. you’re unsure if simon’s talking to you or at you, but you nod hesitantly just in case. whatever gets you out of his place and on the phone with the police faster.

simon’s fingers twitch on the buckle, and your mouth dries.

“‘course. soap’s been a good boy. didn’t break once. and good boys deserve rewards.”

the buckle clicks, the collar falls open, and soap doesn’t give you a chance to scream.

in the morning, crushed between them, you smell wet dog.

#ghoap x reader #ghoap x f!reader #ghostsoap x reader #ghostsoap x f!reader #darkfic

324 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 11 months ago

Text

Bad Faith Part One

Masterlist | Part Two

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Rating: Mature (Part 2 will likely be explicit)

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever. Welcome to part one of two!

There will ONLY be two parts! If you ask me at the end of part two where part three is, I'm going to point you back to this notes section!

If you asked me where part three is and you've been linked here, hi!

Length: 8k

Warnings: Angst. Angst angst angst angst; reader is going through a divorce; Reader's married surname is Hayward; unhealthy coping mechanisms; lovers to enemies to allies to lovers....did I mention angst by any chance? Cause—

Summary: There were so many resources about Steven Hayward from the last decade—interviews, profiles, filings. In all of them, Steven came off as a self-assured, cocky, pompous asshat, but a decent strategist. Those same profiles had described Mrs. Hayward as the trophy wife, the little woman behind the man, tending to the arrangements for their multi-million, 3,000 square foot penthouse overlooking Central Park. For as much as Harvey had forced himself to forget about her, he couldn’t forget her spirit, her determination, her desire to build a life, not to be handed one. None of the credit was given to her. None of the glory, none of the acknowledgement of what Harvey was certain were her blood, sweat and tears in that man’s holdings.

The tears that she had seemed set to shed in his office were all the indication that Harvey needed.

It was a long, harrowing moment of silence as Jessica processed all that you’d told her. You fought not to sniffle into the quiet, but your eyes had steadily been leaking tears for the last twenty minutes. Jessica finally stood from her armchair, patting you on the knee and murmuring, “You need a drink.”

You spluttered a weak laugh, watching her stride over to her luxe kitchen.

“Gin and tonic?”

“I would drink the gin straight at that point," You failed to tease.

“Things aren’t all that desperate yet.”

Yet. How reassuring.

You looked down at the damp, crumpled tissues in your hand before you raised one, dabbing at the few remaining tears. It was another few moments before you heard the click of Jessica’s heels crossing back to you.

“...Thanks for holding back.”

She frowned as you looked up at her, taking hold of the glass that she proffered.

“Holding back?”

“The I told you so.”

Jessica’s lips pursed, her head tipping with what you could only assume was a blend of indignance and pity.

“I did, for the record.”

“I know.”

“I told you nothing good could come from tangling your entire life up with that man.”

“You know, I think those were the exact words that you closed your toast out with at the wedding.” You took a swig, wincing at the overwhelming tang of gin. “Christ, that’s strong.”

“Too much?”

“No. It’s perfect, actually.”

Jessica smiled, lowering herself to sit beside you.

“Do you have lawyers in mind?”

“For the divorce? No.”

“I’ll give you recommendations.”

“I appreciate that, but that’s not why I’m here.” You glanced doggedly toward Jessica. “I need your help…Untangling a few holdings. Things that I can live off of, or break apart and sell for scraps. I can’t even afford a divorce lawyer right now—let alone whoever you’d suggest.”

“What?”

“Steven locked all of my credit cards and froze our joint bank account. I tried reaching out to him, but he won't answer me, and the bank won’t unfreeze it. He seems to think that I’m going to drain the entire thing.”

“Why does he think that?”

“Probably because that’s what he would do.” You sniffled, looking down into your glass. “I have some money in savings, but not a lot. Not enough for me to live off of beyond a few months.”

“Holy hell,” Jessica sighed. You grunted, head hanging as you felt the weight of her judgement. “Do you have any idea which entities you want to go after?”

“Yeah.” You set your drink down, reaching out to where you’d set your bag down and drawing out a bland beige file. You’d spent the morning working up your courage to come over and tell Jessica the awful truth, and had also spent that time putting together the data to do it. You flipped the file open and passed it over.

“This is every single property and holding company that I have my name on. I circled the apartment buildings that I want to sell, and the companies that I think would be best suited to my purposes.”

“Is Steven on all of these?”

“Only the ones that I put an asterisk beside, but I wouldn't be surprised if he came after the others.”

Jessica hummed, nodding. “You knew exactly what I’d ask for.”

“Well, I know you.”

She smiled, closing your file and setting it on her lap.

“Then I’m sure you know what I’m going to say next.”

The implication made your stomach churn with discomfort. You took the glass up again, taking a deep pull from it.

“I do,” You admitted, nose wrinkling again from the sharp juniper taste, “And I know that you’re going to say that it’s the best course of action—”

“The only course of action.”

“That’s patently untrue. You have more than one lawyer at your firm.”

“Not one that could handle a case of this magnitude.”

“Not even Louis?”

“Louis is like a french bulldog. Harvey is a pitbull.”

“You know, that’s actually a really harmful stereotype.”

Jessica’s brows lowered in chastisement, and you looked back down into your drink for safety.

“Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest?” You added.

“How could it be? You’ve barely spoken to or looked at the man in eleven years.”

Eleven years. Had it really been that long?

“I know that you and Harvey parted on bad terms,” Jessica offered softly, and continued over your disbelieving scoff, “But you need to come out of this with the funds and the strength for a good divorce lawyer. Harvey can give you that.”

“What if he doesn’t take the case?”

“He will.”

“But if he doesn’t?”

“He will.”

“Jessica.”

“He won't have a choice.”

“Oh, he’ll love that. There’s nothing Harvey likes more than being backed in a corner."

“That’s when he comes out swinging the hardest.” She plucked the emptied glass out of your hand, heading toward the kitchen again. “Would you like another one?”

You sighed, slouching heavily against the couch and scrubbing your tired eyes.

“I’d really just like that bottle of gin—and a straw.”

“Would you stop fussing? You look fine.”

“I don’t care how I look,” You grumbled, though that didn’t stop you from reaching down and adjusting the skirt of your dress. You didn’t want to admit that Jessica was right, though you both knew that she was. She always had you nailed dead to rights, and that morning was no different.

You had a slight headache from the drinks you’d had at her apartment the night before, but it was hardly the worst hangover that you’d ever had. You were already two coffees in and you were itching for a third, but you already felt like shit. A third one would just make your heart pound harder, your hands more sweaty, and probably send your anxiety through the roof. You were certain the conversation you were about to have would do all of that for you, so no additional coffee was needed.

You drew in a deep breath, standing and tugging your dress down again as you walked over to look through out over the city. You could hear the ringing of phones behind you, the clicking of heels, the chatter of conversation. You were just waiting for his voice, waiting for his bravado to enter before he did, to suck the air out of the room.

“...What’d he say when you told him?” You asked.

“I haven't yet. I thought it would be more effective if we told him together.”

“So not only is he being forced to take my case, but it’s an ambush.” You cast Jessica an unimpressed sidelong glance, brows quirked in disbelief. She simply gave a small shrug.

“I know my associates.”

“Mm, I bet.”

“I understand I was summoned? Have I been so terribly missed? Whaddaya say we play hooky, go to the batting cages?”

There he was—each question was just punch after punch after punch. Your mouth and throat went dry as your body seemed to divert all available liquid assets to the sweat beginning to wet your palms.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know we had company,” He added.

“It’s alright. Harvey, you know Mrs. Steven Hayward.”

Hayward. You had always hated the name. Hell, you couldn’t even believe you’d taken it, but you’d been so damn afraid of putting a foot wrong, wary of having someone change their mind again about marrying you.

You turned to face Harvey, leaning back against the window and folding your arms across your chest, pressing your slick palms to your sides. It shouldn't have been so vindicating to see Harvey looking so gobsmacked, to watch the color drain from his face as his eyes caught up with his mind—as he came to realize, yes, that Mrs. Steven Hayward.

“Mr. Specter,” You greeted flatly.

“I—What’s going on?”

It’s nice to see you, too. You bit the inside of your cheek to silence your snide remark.

“Mrs. Hayward needs to dissolve and sell a few of her holdings, and I told her that I had just the lawyer for the job,” Jessica announced.

“...Is that lawyer in the room with us?” Harvey shook his head a little.

“You are that lawyer. You’ll be taking the case pro-bono.”

“Pro—Jessica, those cases are reserved for people that actually need help, not for multi-millionaires.”

That stung in a way that it shouldn’t have—but he was right. There were surely cases that were more worthy of his attention. Still, you couldn't deny the fact that you needed his help, and that your pockets weren't nearly as deep as they used to be.

“My husband is the multi-millionaire, not me,” You argued.

“Bullshit.”

“You wanna see my bank statements? I have a little over three hundred in checking, a few thousand in savings.”

“Mrs. Hayward needs this resolved as quickly as possible, and without any of your usual pomp and circumstance,” Jessica cut in.

“Why don’t you do this through a divorce attorney?” Harvey pressed.

“Because right now, I can’t afford one.”

Harvey pursed his lips, looking between you and Jessica. You watched his jaw tick, saw the thick bob of his adam’s apple shift his collar a little.

“You have a list of holdings?” He asked, glancing toward you.

“Twenty,” You nodded.

“To be chopped up and sold for scraps?”

“Yes.”

“Seems a little ruthless for you.”

“It’s what needs to be done.”

“And you expect me to do it?”

“I expect you to do your job. If you can’t get over the fact that it’s for me, then you’re in the wrong business.”

Harvey’s gaze narrowed, his eyes darkening irritation. Oh, you knew that look—like it or not, you had a flash of it like it was yesterday.

“...Where’s the file.”

Jackpot.

“On the desk.”

You weren’t about to hand it to him. Hell—you weren’t about to hand anything to Harvey Specter on a silver fucking platter. He walked slowly to Jessica’s desk, eyes dropping to the file that had been thickened with information on each of the holdings. He opened it, gaze scanning your original sheet before flipping a couple of pages.

“I’ll need time to look this over,” He argued.

“Obviously.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Great.”

“Number still the same?”

Bastard.

“My new number is on the inside of the folder.”

“Great. Is there anything else that I should know?”

“Just that Steven and his cadre of sharks will likely stick their noses in the second they smell blood in the water.”

“We’ll be ready.”

“Good.”

Harvey gave you one last look, one long, sweeping, analyzing look before he turned away, striding out of Jessica’s office. You slowly released a long breath, shoulders untensing as he got further and further away. You lowered your hands, shaking them out and blowing cool air across your shaking, sweating palms.

“Are you sweating?” Jessica asked.

“Are you not? It’s boiling in here." You yanked your collar away from your neck, fanning over your heating skin.

“You can relax. He took the case.”

“Because he had to, not because he wanted to.”

“He’ll get over it, and he’ll do his job.”

“He’s such a grumpy asshole,” You sighed, walking over to the chair that you’d left your jacket and bag on. “But if you say you’re gonna keep him on the straight and narrow—”

“I will—”

“—Then I believe you. I’ve gotta go.”

“Where to?”

“I have to go look at an apartment.”

“Work never ends.”

“This is personal. I need to find a new place. I've been in a hotel for the last few nights, and I can't afford to keep that up."

“Don’t you own your place?”

You shook your head, averting your gaze as you pulled on your coat.

“The penthouse is in Steven’s name.”

You’d had a few hours to forget the weight of Jessica’s judgement, but you felt it again in full force as she shook her head.

“...I thought you were smarter than this,” She said after a moment.

You looked toward Jessica, giving her a small, weak smile. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Do you want me to call you a car? On the firm, of course.”

“No! No, but thanks. I should reacquaint myself with the subway. I’m going to be using it more often.”

You managed to hold it together until the real estate agent gave you a moment to ‘get a better sense of the space’. She clearly had no idea who you were, which was a boon, and hardly looked away from her phone as she waved with one hand and typed with the other thumb. You turned to look around, heard the snick of the door closing, and just…Lost it.

Your tears poured out like someone had reached into your head and turned on a faucet. You buried your face into your hands, uncaring of the fact that your makeup was going to run together. You’d given eleven years of your life to a man that was throwing you to the wolves, as if you’d never meant a thing to him at all—as if you hadn’t put your blood, sweat, and tears into building his empire—into what you had once thought was your empire, too.

And what the hell did you have to show for it? You stood in a $3,200 392 square foot studio apartment of a six-floor walk-up in the West Village, wearing a $4,900 dress, standing in $600 shoes, a your $1,200 purse shifting on your arm as your shoulders shook with sobs.

You sniffled roughly, chest hiccuping tightly as you finally began to calm. You reached into your purse, drawing out a compact and flipping it open. You swiped at your run makeup, taking up the pressed powder puff and dabbing beneath your eyes, and over the tear tracks in your foundation. God, just pull it together for the snot-nosed realtor outside. Tell her that you wanted to take it, get the keys, and start figuring out how you could get your things from Steven. You would need to make money in the meantime.

You looked down, shifting rocking back on your heels to get a better look at your shoes.

You never did love this outfit, and you couldn’t have worn it more than twice. Resale couldn’t be too far below purchase, could it? Come to think of it, you had closets full of hardly worn designer outfits at the penthouse. You looked around the studio. You could spring for a few wheeled clothing racks, find a few reputable resellers. You could get good money for your dresses, your shoes, probably even more for the jewelry that you almost certainly wouldn’t be keeping. Steven always had brought you home a trinket from the trips that he frequently took without you—beautiful gems that you knew now were trinkets for guilt, or something like it. You were almost certain Steven didn’t really feel guilt, but he could play-act at it well enough.

But you didn’t have to worry about that at that moment. And as soon as Steven did rear his ugly head, he would have Harvey to deal with. Considering your history, that shouldn't have been a very comfortable thought—but you had Harvey and Jessica in your corner.

You closed your eyes and drew in a deep breath, deeper than you were able to draw before. You held it for one...two...three...And pushed it out slowly as your heated face began to cool.

Deal with the realtor first. Sign the lease, get the keys, and start getting your life back together.

“This isn’t going to be an easy one," Harvey warned.

“Of course it isn’t. If it was, you wouldn’t have agreed to take the case.”

“I didn’t take it, it was given to me.”

“You poor thing.”

It left you without any sympathy, your gaze stone-heavy as you watched him. He narrowed his eyes, a smile set in place as he rocked back and forth in his chair. He tapped his pen on his lips for a moment before he rocked fully forward. You watched his gaze skate across the file in front of him.

“The way I see it, there are four easy wins here,” He turned the file toward you, and you scooted forward in your seat to get a better look at them. “The two apartment buildings on the upper East Side, the one in the Village, and the brownstone in Park Slope. We can hack away at the other sixteen down the road, but we should move on these.”

“Okay.”

“The easiest win is going to be in the Slope. The assessed value is…” His brows furrowed, and he leaned over the file and squinted, as if he wasn’t quite seeing the number correctly.

“Seven million?” You filled in. Harvey’s gaze darted to yours, brows raised.

“Nice chunk of change.”

“I want it listed for ten.”

“That may be a little unrealistic.”

“I’m looking for 8.5 in cash, if possible, so I’m expecting some haggling. I already told the broker as much.”

“Alright. Which of these buildings are you staying in?”

“I’m not staying in any of them.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not staying in any of them.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m pairing down, staying somewhere else.”

“You could stay in any of these rent-free.”

“The HOA and utilities are more than I can afford right now.”

“We could bake the HOA into the contract.”

“If Steven found out I was staying in any of them, he’d find a way to tank the deal from the outside.”

Harvey’s expression tightened a little before he nodded: “Fine. I’ll need your new address for the paperwork.”

“May I use your pen, please?”

Harvey pushed the file closer, passing the pen with it. You could feel him watching you as you jotted down your address, name, and number. Harvey draws the file back to himself, sweeping over the information.

“Keeping your married name?”

“I’ve put in the paperwork to change it, but that could take at least a couple of months.”

“I have a friend that clerks for the Supreme Court of New York, I could put in a word.”

“That’s a kind offer but don’t worry about it. Is there anything else that we need to discuss today?”

“No, that about covers it. I’ll call you if our real estate department or my associate comes across anything that could be beneficial to your situation.”

“I may have just uncovered something.”

You turned at the sound of a new voice, catching sight of a young man standing in the doorway.

“This is Mike Ross, my associate,” Harvey introduced, standing and holding a hand out toward Mike. “Mike Ross, this is Mrs. Steven Hayward.”

Your name left him with a vinegary annoyance that you’d been hoping would be absent from this meeting. You stood, holding out your hand and offering Mike your first name.

“Would you prefer to be, uh..." Mike’s gaze darted between you and Harvey.

“I’d prefer you not to use my married name, if possible.”

“Got it. So,” Mike stepped between you and Harvey, opening the file that he was holding. “I’ve found an additional six properties where your name is the only one on the lease.”

You frowned, brow furrowing as you stepped closer to get a look at the file. “That can’t be right.”

“If Mike found it, it’s right.” There was an irritated thread of steel in Harvey’s tone, and you shot him a scathing glance.

“The comment was one of surprise, not distrust.”

“Maybe next time you can keep your surprise to yourself and let my associate speak.”

“Just like you’re letting him speak right now?”

Harvey’s jaw went tight, and you raised your brows as a knowing smirk curled your lips before you turned back to Mike and nodded:

“You were saying?”

Mike’s expression was riddled with confusion, but he snapped back into action.

“Right—There are, uh…Three complexes in downtown Brooklyn,” He shifted through the stack of papers and drew out photos. “They were gutted for renovation, but work was stopped before any further changes could be made. They cited funding concerns.”

That really couldn’t be right. Steven was rolling in cash like a pig in shit. You took hold of the photos, frown deepening as you got a better look at them.

“What is it?” Harvey pressed.

“I don’t recognize any of these.” You flipped to the next one, then the next. The walls in all of them had been stripped; the floors were torn up; the wiring of the ceiling was exposed.

“What about the other three?” You pressed.

“Uh—One house in the Hamptons, one in Cape Cod, and one in Gstaad.”

“You’re kidding,” You said flatly, looking at MIke.

“I am not. I take it you don’t know about any of those, either?”

“Not a one.”

“Would you want any of them?”

“Maybe Cape Cod.”

“Not Gstaad?” Harvey asked.

“Mm, not worth it. I don’t know how to ski.”

“Still?”

You rolled your eyes pointedly before you nodded back to Mike’s file. “Do you have the paperwork for the properties?” “Yeah, it’s, uh…” He set the file down, sifting through for the paper clipped documents and lining them up on Harvey's desk. “These are…All of them…Separated out by property.”

You went down the line, flipping through each of the pages and growing more and more frantic as you did.

“None of these are my signature.”

“He would’ve closed through a title company, I can hunt that down,” Mike commented to Harvey.

“We can throw these on the list of what needs to be sold, or put them in a living trust,” Harvey offered.

“...I don't know,” You leaned away, shaking your head. You felt so unsettled; after the rapid upheaval of your life over the last week you weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. After this, you had to worry about the divorce, the tabloids, whatever the fuck else you were going to do with your life—You felt your throat going tight with tears, and you cleared your throat harshly, trying to dispel some of the feeling. “If they were good investments, Steven would’ve used his name on them.”

“All the more reason for you to ditch them.”

“I want them inspected first. I’m not throwing these on the market until I know what the hell I’m dealing with.”

“We can take care of that,” Mike promised. You nodded, glancing toward him and offering a tight, grateful smile.

“Not that you’re paying us to.”

Harvey’s snide reminder was like having a bucket of cold water poured over you. Your hands curled into fists where they rested on your hips. You were just on the edge of slapping the guy—

“You can deal with me directly,” You offered Mike. “My number’s in the file. Thank you, for—” You waved your hand toward the file. “Uncovering this. I appreciate it.” You took up your purse and threw your coat over your arm, trying to hold back your rapidly rising tears as your face flooded with heat.

“You’re just going to go?” Harvey asked.

“It’s always worked for you pretty well,” You snapped. “Figured I’d give it a try.” You stormed out without another word, keeping your gaze staunchly set on the floor that you desperately wanted to sink through.

“I have…So many questions right now,” Mike shook his head as he watched Mrs. Hayward stride toward the elevators.

“You know where to start. Get the inspections lined up, and then start prepping the filings for forgery—”

“Harvey,” Mike raised his hands, chuckling with shock. “What—Was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. The whole ‘if Mike found it it’s right’?”

“Well, that’s true.”

“That thing about her still not being able to ski? How do you know her?”

“We’ve met, that’s all.”

“It’s obviously more than that.” Mike searched Harvey’s gaze for a few moments. “C’mon, what’s your deal?”

Harvey considered for a moment, his jaw working before he nodded to the right. “Close the door.”

He lowered himself into his seat as Mike did as he asked, then turned back to him.

“Mrs. Hayward and I…” Harvey’s expression tightened as he struggled with it. “We were…Involved for a while.”

“While she was married?”

“Before.”

“How involved?”

“We were engaged.”

Mike’s eyes widened drastically, his brows making a jump toward his hairline. “En—What?” He laughed breathlessly. “The great Harvey Specter was almost nailed by that ice queen?”

“Watch it,” Harvey warned; he was stunned as he felt a flair of protectiveness bloom in his chest. “She wasn’t always like that.” He glanced toward the property statements at the front of his desk, and he thought of the dismayed twist of her features. When she’d met his gaze, her eyes had been bright with tears. Maybe that was his fault, at least a little. He should’ve watched his tone a little more. He had surely made her cry enough, years ago.

“What happened?” Mike pressed.

“I wasn’t ready.”

“You broke it off?”

“...Something like that.”

Harvey’s gaze flitted nervously toward Mike, and he could practically hear the wheels turning overtime in his head. It only took a moment before Mike’s eyes managed to widen further, his jaw dropping open in shock.

“Oh my—There is no way.”

“I’m not proud of it,” Harvey raised a hand to stop Mike’s incredulous questioning.

“Let me just make sure I’m on the same page here,” Mike shook his head. “You left her at the altar, she married this guy, and now you’re…Making jokes about the fact that she can’t ski or afford a lawyer?”

Harvey’s heart sank into his stomach as he cut an irritated gaze across the desk.

“I’m not proud of that, either.”

“Didn’t stop you, though, did it.”

“Are you finished with your lecture? Because you have a lot of work to do.”

“On it,” Mike nodded, hopping out of his seat and restacking the paperwork into the file.

“While you’re at it, keep your ear to the ground on that Park Slope property. The sooner the wheels are turning on that, the better. Use that number,” He tapped the file, “To call her, and send any documents to that address.”

“Understood.”

Harvey listened to Mike’s retreating footsteps as he twisted back and forth in his seat, restless in his discomfort. He pushed himself out of his seat in annoyance, unable to stand sitting anymore. Why had he shot his mouth off at her like that? He knew that she was going through it. He just figured when he’d first seen her in Jessica’s office that this situation wouldn’t be quite so hellish.

Steven Hayward was a billionaire, a former Forbes 30 Under 30 recipient. Harvey had done his digging when the engagement had first been announced—just a few months after Harvey had made the decision not to marry her. He’d assumed then that if she’d moved on so quickly, she couldn’t have loved him much in the first place, and the idea had solidified his decision not to go through with their wedding.

Harvey had done his best to put her out of his mind, and he’d succeeded for the most part. But when Jessica had thrown this case at him, he’d gone back, done some more digging. There were so many resources about Steven Hayward from the last decade—interviews, profiles, filings. In all of them, Steven came off as a self-assured, cocky, pompous asshat, but a decent strategist. Those same profiles had described Mrs. Hayward as the trophy wife, the little woman behind the man, tending to the arrangements for their multi-million, 3,000 square foot penthouse overlooking Central Park. For as much as Harvey had forced himself to forget about her, he couldn’t forget her spirit, her determination, her desire to build a life, not to be handed one. None of the credit was given to her. None of the glory, none of the acknowledgement of what Harvey was certain were her blood, sweat and tears in that man’s holdings.

The tears that she had seemed set to shed in his office were all the indication that Harvey needed. He scrubbed his hand across his face, trying to compose himself as he pushed the wounded memory of her away.

Even footing. He needed to get the two of them on some kind of even footing. Every conversation couldn’t be a fight—it would just slow the both of them down. The sooner they sorted this out, the sooner they’d be out of one another’s hair.

“Donna!” He called out, turning toward the door. Donna popped her head in a moment later, brows raised expectantly. “I need you to look an address up for me.”

“It’s in the West Village.”

Harvey’s mouth worked wordlessly for a couple of seconds before he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, “Mike?”

“You shouldn’t have hired a super genius if you didn’t want him using that big brain.”

“I was hoping he would use it for good, not evil.”

“Oh, trust me, he is. Anything else?”

“Lunch?”

“It’s on the way.”

Of course it was.

“This is everything?”

“Yes. I checked and double-checked the list that you gave me before I left.”

You nodded, planting your hands on your hips and looking over six industrial-sized trash bags that contained what you hoped were your tide-over funds.

“The jewelry’s in there, too?”

“Hey,” Aaron stepped closer to you, resting his hand on your shoulder. “When I say I got everything, I mean I got everything. I was this close to snagging a couple of light fixtures.”

You laughed a little, nodding and leaning into the touch a little. You’d worked with Aaron Delaney for over five years at Hayward Realty. You’d hoped that he wouldn’t be in Steven’s camp in the divorce, and when you’d reached out to find out when Steven would definitely be at the office, Aaron had quickly jumped on your bandwagon. It had taken nearly three weeks, but he had come through. Not only had he told you when Steven would be out, but he’d offered to go into the apartment and get things for you. You hadn’t heard a thing from Mike in a couple of weeks, so you could only hope that everything was going smoothly on his end, but these bags would go a long way to bolstering your bitten budget.

“You want my help cataloging it?” He offered. You shook your head a little.

“No, god, you've done enough—and helped me lug this up six flights. Besides, Steven will be suspicious if you’re out of the office for too long—you’re too good an employee to be out of pocket for more than a few minutes. But if you’d like to be enlisted in mole duty going forward, I’m gonna need you to have your ear to the ground over there.”

“You’ve got it.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Will do, yeah. And thanks again, Aaron. Seriously.”

“Keep your chin up, hon.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled, turning back to the trash bags as Aaron headed for the door. God, you didn’t even know what was where. It was probably best to just go bag by bag, and hope all of the suits were together. You could hang the outfits up, take a picture, post it on the app that you were using to resell your luxury clothing. You could—and probably would—keep at least a couple of things for yourself, but you couldn’t go crazy. You’d need suits for your divorce settlement, and possibly for court…And for whatever the hell you wound up doing once this was all over.

Because it would be over, eventually. There was a life for you on the other side of all of this, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. Things would get easier, but right now, it all just…Fucking sucked. You had moved the few things that you had into the studio apartment, including your dresser, a bookshelf, a few books, and your favorite Eames lounge chair and reading lamp. You’d had to get a new bed—a full was all that you could use without overwhelming the space; you got a metal frame on Amazon that would get the job done, and you’d bought and built three racks for your clothing. You still hadn’t found an affordable couch, but you had found a nice oak grain bedside table on the sidewalk, with a handwritten looseleaf sign taped to it that read, FREE!!

You hadn’t had the chance to paint or put any personalizing touches on the space besides your furniture—no art, or knick knacks. The space was nearing functional, but you were certain that unpacking all of your clothing was going to make that a hell of a lot more difficult.

You crouched down in front of the first bag, untying it and opening it. You could see some Scanlan Theodore, some Tuckernuck, some Bergdorf Goodman. This bag was already pretty promising. You sighed, taking the first dress out and wafting the fabric out. It didn’t need to be ironed or steamed, which was a blessing. You were already dreading how long this was going to take, but hell, at least it would give you something to do that wasn’t staring down the barrel of your dead-end future—

Okay. Okay, so not helpful, so not the time. You reached into your pocket, pulling your phone out of your pocket to find a podcast to listen to. There had to be something that you could listen to that would distract you from the monotony of filing and sorting your clothing out. You settled on one of your favorites before you began sorting through the first bag. You were right—a couple of Scanlans, two Tuckernucks, three Bergdorf Goodman’s–

Your sorting was interrupted by a knock on your door. You frowned, pushing yourself up. What else could be left? It had to be good if Aaron had lugged something else up six floors. You pushed yourself off of the floor, brushing the dust off of your sweatpants.

“Alright, Delaney, what’d you forget?” You asked as you approached the door and tugged it open.

The sight of Harvey Specter standing on your doorstep made your stomach want to violently unseat your lunch. His gaze swept over you critically, taking sight of you in your comfy clothes. Between the ratty old shirt, the sweats, and your fluffy socks, you were a far, far cry from the way that he’d become accustomed to seeing you in his office.

“Can I, uh…” He peered over your shoulder, nodding inside. “Can I come in?”

“I thought I was going to be hearing from Mr. Ross.”

“Mike is busy, and we need to talk.”

You couldn’t imagine what the hell you and Harvey needed to talk about. You didn’t want to let him in; you knew that what Harvey was about to see wasn’t what he was surely expecting. Your grip tightened on the handle before you drew in a deep breath nodding, “Sure.”

It was worse than you imagined. Harvey hardly got two steps inside before he stopped fully. Well, to be fair, there wasn’t a ton of space for him to wander around and explore; between the bed, the armchair, and the trash bags, there wasn’t much room for him to move around. You shut the door and pointedly cleared your throat, trying to jog him from his shock. As he faced you again, you could see him trying to mask his surprise, his brows drawing down over his eyes as he turned to a file in his hand.

“You have an offer on the Park Slope house.”

“Why didn’t I get a call from my broker?”

“I asked to deliver the news myself.”

You frowned a little, taking hold of the file and flipping it open. Your eyes widened at the sight of a check paperclipped to the top of the files—for frighteningly beneath asking price.

“I said I wanted it in cash.”

“...I know that,” Harvey spoke slowly, as if he was dealing with a particularly difficult and over-caffeinated child. “That is a good faith deposit from the buyer.”

“They’ve signed?” Your hands tighten around the file as your stomach flipped with excitement. “I didn’t ask my broker for a good faith deposit.”

“No, I had it baked into the contract.”

Your gaze flitted to Harvey, annoyance and admiration growing in equal measure.

“I…Appreciate that,” You finally managed. “But in the future, please run any changes like that by me before you speak to my broker.”

Harvey nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Understood.”

“Thanks.” You closed to file, certain that if you didn’t, you’d just spend your time staring at the check—at your first lifeline in this whole mess. “Anything else?”

“We need to get on a more even footing.”

“...I don’t know what you mean.”

Harvey gave you a chastising frown, one that would’ve made you wilt long ago—but now, you simply shook your head and shrugged.

“I don’t,” You insisted. “Unless you mean that you’ll stop out your thinly veiled barbs about what you think you know about me.”

“I remember more than you think.”

“I’m not the woman that you left at the altar, Harvey.” Your admission and reminder left a bitter taste in your mouth. You had to force yourself to hold his gaze, even as his expression flooded with discomfort. You could see him desperately trying to push it away as his retort bubbled up:

“And I’m not the man that left you there!”

“No?” You laughed openly. “Because this all looks pretty fucking familiar. You’re a shark, Harvey, and you’re a dick. Lucky for the both of us, that’s exactly what I need you to be right now.”

Harvey’s jaw tightened, and you could see his hands curling into fists before he shoved them into his pockets.

“Let’s get one thing perfectly clear,” He seethed, taking a small step closer, “What I do for you over the course of this case is purely because of my reputation in this city. I’m going to do my damndest to get you the best out of all of these properties, but do not think for a moment that the job I do comes from any interest, any compassion, anything worth a damn.”

“What compassion? Anyone with compassion would’ve at least had the grace to do better than a goddamn post-it note in my bridal suite that just said ‘sorry’. It didn't even look like your handwriting!” You loosed a hysterical laugh that had been building in your throat as he spoke. “Or did you not even want that in there? Maybe one of my bridesmaids scrawled it to keep me from just throwing myself off the fucking roof!”

Harvey’s expression flickered again, and you saw some of the color drain from his annoyance-flushed cheeks. You turned away, stomach roiling with embarrassment and irritation.

“Thanks for the file,” You managed, forcing a steadiness into your tone. “Going forward, I really do think it’s for the best that you communicate with me through Mr. Ross.”

“Gladly. Have a nice day, Mrs. Hayward.”

Three long strides, the creak of the door opening, and then slamming shut. You flinched at the sound, fingers tightening around the file, trying to focus on the check.

One hundred thousand dollars was an amazing start. One hundred thousand dollars could go toward your rent, your expenses, buy you some time. Maybe you could get a nice bottle of gin—or a couple of the cheap bottles the size of your head, the stuff that tasted like paint thinner and knocked you flat on your ass until morning.

Maybe you could sell your clothing during the day and quietly slip into oblivion in the evening. You had nothing better to do with your nights. Almost none of your so-called friends had reached out after the news had broken—likely making the choice to side with Steven. He was the one that still had the money, of course, the position in society. His name was on the door, not yours.

Your name was on a 12 month lease, and on a check for one hundred thousand dollars.

sorry

Lowercase, hurriedly scrawled, ink smudged. You could still see the slightly crumpled post-it that had been sitting on your honeymoon suite vanity when you’d returned after waiting at the back of the venue for almost an hour.

Harvey hadn’t copped to writing it. Maybe he didn’t want to—or maybe he really didn’t write it. Maybe he wasn’t sorry. Maybe he saw the shitshow that your life had become and was glad that he’d gotten out early.

You glanced around the apartment, eyeing the row of trash bags, the rickety furniture. At this moment, you couldn’t blame him.

You tossed the file onto your bedside table before walking back to the trash bags. Bag by bag, then steam what needed to be steam, then sort by brand. Plan of attack. You could get that man out of your head.

That man—which one was worse to think about just now—Steven or Harvey?

You shook your head, forcing yourself to dismiss both of them for the morning. You didn’t have any more time for what could’ve been’s. You had here, you had now.

And you had shit to do.

“Okay, two things,” Mike announced as he rounded into Harvey’s office. “One, the purchase agreement for the brownstone is signed and the payment is on the way to her bank account. There’s also an offer for the apartment building in the upper East Side. Two—“

“What do you mean, two?” Harvey frowned. “That’s already two things.”

“Fine, three—“

“Super genius and he can’t even count—“

“I got six emails from Steven Hayward’s representation this morning, disputing ownership of all of the twenty original flagged properties.”

“Damnit,” Harvey hissed. “Even the houses she didn’t know about?”

“No, so far, they’ve been conspicuously left off of the list.”

“Where are we with those inspections?”

“In progress, should hear back by the end of the week.”

“Good.”

Mike nodded, and Harvey returned his attention to his laptop. At least, he did until he realized that Mike hadn’t left the room.

“Something else that you need to say?” Harvey prodded.

“Aren’t you going to ask how she is?”

“Why would I need to know that?”

“Come on, Harvey.”

“She’s a client, Mike.”

“A client that you were going to marry!”

“And I didn’t marry her. What do you think that says about my wealth of feeling for her?”

Mike sighed heavily through his nose, muttering, “Alright.” He began to turn away, heading for the door. “Well, if you had asked, I would’ve told you that she’s putting on a brave face, but she’s getting to the end of her rope.”

“Well I didn’t ask, but thank you for that poetic and poignant diagnosis.”

“You have to go.”

“Of all of my priorities right now, the gala is not one of them,” You insisted. “I’ve got about a hundred more urgent matters right now.”

“Make this one,” Jessica insisted, leaning back against her desk, her arms folding across her chest. “You know how badly you’ll be lampooned if you don't turn up.”

“And I’ll be lampooned if I do show up. Besides, I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Wear something you’ve worn before.”

“I don’t have most of those pieces anymore.”

“Then rent something.”

“You do remember that Steven is being honored this year?”

“All the more reason for you to show your face.”

“Jessica—“

“What’s your plan.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your plan—when this is all over? Are you going to go back into real estate?”

“…It’s crossed my mind.”

“You know that they will never let you back in if you slink out the back door and try to come in through the front again. They’ve rescinded your keys, honey. May as well stay in the house as long as you can.”

“This metaphor is beginning to exhaust me.”

Jessica grinned. “I better see your name on the RSVP list by the end of the day.”

“Since when do you have access to that information?”

“I have my sources.”

You heard two knocks, followed by the increasingly comforting sound of Mike’s voice: “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Jessica waved him inside. “I’m hoping for a fruitful update.”

“Well,” Mike gave a small, nervous smile as he joined the two of you. “The good news is that purchase for the brownstone is moving through the channels, and there are interested buyers for the upper East Side apartment building. Unfortunately —“ The word made your gut swoop. “—Your ex-husband has come out of the woodwork. He’s trying to stake a claim on the properties, and on a hold co. We’re monitoring the situation,” Mike added before either you or Jessica could speak, “But I wanted to make you aware of what you could be facing sometime soon.”

You nodded, wringing your hands where they were folded in your lap.

“I appreciate the update.”

“Of course.”

“Why isn’t Harvey relaying this to me himself?” Jessica frowned. You raised your brows, glancing toward Mike, and fighting back a wave of amusement at his blatant deer-in-headlines expression.

“He had a—meeting,” He flubbed before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I should, uh–”

Jessica’s brows raise skeptically, but she nods, and you bite back a laugh as Mike leaves the room with a measured hurry.

“...Why do I have the feeling that the two of you are keeping something from me?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You shrugged, pushing yourself out of your seat. “Now if you excuse me, I have some clothes to package—”

“And a gala outfit to find. I understand.”

You turned from Jessica’s smug grin, rolling your eyes as she tacked on,

“And don’t forget to get your nails done!”

You rounded out of the office, pulling up short as you slammed into someone.

“Oh! Fuck, sorry!” You breathed as their hands landed on your hips to steady you.

“...Don’t worry about it.” Harvey’s flat tone turned your stomach. You cleared your throat, stepping back and out of his hands.

“I’ll watch where I’m going.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You gave a firm nod as you skirted around him, face flooding with embarrassed heat as you strode toward the elevators.

The gala. You’d completely forgotten about the gala until Jessica had brought it up. Six months ago, planning the evening had been the center of your world. You’d put a deposit down for a custom dress, had it fitted. Steven had asked you to coordinate a cocktail party for the two hours beforehand—an intimate gathering for 150 of your closest friends and associates. You sighed, leaning back against the hard subway seat and gazing at your appearance in the window opposite you.

You could just see it now—the who’s who of New York’s real estate scene all swanning up to the penthouse, lounging fashionably, eating the hors d'oeuvres that you’d chosen and drinking the champagne that you’d ordered by the case…

…The champagne that you had ordered…

Come to think of it, those contracts all had your name on them, your contact information. Steven hadn’t been involved with a damn thing, save for the use of his credit card to put down deposits. He never did—he expected you to handle all of the coordination on the day as well; he would swan in an hour after the party started and do his scant duties as the host.

A devilish grin curled your lips. You were sure you still had all of the confirmations in your email. You could cancel all of it—the ice sculpture, the caterer, the champagne…Well, maybe you could divert one case to your new apartment, and cancel the rest.

Oh, you could really see it now—Steven seething as he frantically checked his emails for any hint of vendors, any phone number or email that he could call to find out what the hell happened to the party that was to-be. You were certain that the tailor still had your dress—and you had a check for a hundred thousand dollars that you could dip into for a manicure.

You stood as the train pulled into your station. You were suddenly looking forward to the gala.

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @gina239 ; @technicallykawaiisoul ; @coldheart-lonelysoul ; @kathrinemelissa ; @jacxx2 ; @pillowjj ; @chanaaaannel ; @avampirescholar ; @kmc1989

#Harvey Specter x Reader #Harvey Specter x You #Harvey Specter/Reader #Harvey Specter/You #Harvey Specter fic #Harvey Specter imagine #Bad Faith

743 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 5 months ago

Text

The five year old syndrome: Damian Wayne x reader.

Summary/request: f!reader having separation anxiety due to Damian's vigilante lifestyle. And him calming her down and trying to make up for the time lost, when he was gone patrolling.

***

It was normal behaviour.

Her boyfriend was a vigilante, fighting villains every night, more often than not putting himself in harm’s way and ending up hurt (not that he ever wanted to admit it).

So it was pretty obvious that she was worried, right?

The fact that she kept on asking him in which area he was patrolling on respective night or where was he going and at what time he was planning to come back was simply a sign of her love and concern for him

Right?

Right????

And even when Damian, being Damian, tried to brush off her concerns, avoiding straightforward answers due to the safety precautions, she was pushing and pushing trying to get as little as a scrap of information from him.

Making him a little concerned and heavily annoyed.

But holding back his irritation for her sake.

“Really Y/N, there’s no need to panic like that.” He muttered, when seconds before his departure on nightly watch she dived into his arms holding him as tight as she could. “I am not a beginner in the area.” His hands were hanging by his side, a little awkwardly for a longer moment before he finally figured it would be better to hug her back in some form of comfort. “In fact, I believe I’m the best fighter in the entire family and –”

“Just please come back to me safe, ok?” she whispered against his chest, hiding face in the material of his jacket. He insisted on never leaving their shared apartment in Robin suit, and she was using that opportunity to inhale his smell that has nothing to do with his persona. “Promise me that.” Her voice turned almost begging, her grip on him tightening in desperation to keep him with her.

“Y/N. My beloved.” Damian gently unclenched her fists from his clothes “I’ll always come back to you. As before. But you really have to let me go now.”

“But –” she squeezed his hands instead, this time almost painfully as he was not expecting it

“Tsk. No buts, beloved. I will be back. And then maybe we can talk about why you suddenly became so alerted about me leaving?”

“Yeah—I mean okay…” the sigh that escaped her lips was an expression of surrender. Not willingly, but she knew there was no use arguing with Damian and his rationality.

After all, she was the overreacting one, becoming needy and putting his patience to the test. And about a situation that has happened dozens of times before.

But in her own head it was just because she was so in love with him and that was how lovers acted.

***

It was not normal behaviour.

In the short span of two weeks, her concerns and need for information about Damian’s whereabouts when he was patrolling evolved into something way more serious.

It was like every time he was about to leave, not even raising from the couch yet, she was starting to sob uncontrollably, shaking and getting into a panic attack.

“Don’t go—”

“Y/N--”

“Please! Please, don’t go tonight.”

“I have to-“ as much as he was bothered with her emotional display, there was also a tiny glimpse of guilt for putting his duties above his love.

“Damian!” she started crying like a five year old, tears running down her cheeks like a waterfall.

Too bad he was already half into a Robin mode.

“Y/N, stop crying.” The voice he used was probably a little too stern, given the fact that he was dealing with his distressed girlfriend and not a criminal.

“I’m sorry-“ she angrily wiped the tears, holding them back with the whole willpower she possessed.

“Look at me, love. Nothing wrong will happen, okay? I’m skilled and swift and capable and-“

“Humble.” She chuckled, slowly letting his words get to her and suppress the fear and anxiety.

“No. Not humble at all. I have every right to brag and I will do it. And when there’s a woman listening to it, it only gets better.” He smirked

“You’re impossible.”

“Made you calm down though.” Damian shrugged casually “But jokes aside, I promise I will be back in one piece. And the blood on the suit will not belong to me-“

“DAMIAN!”

That was not helpful at all.

***

It might have been anxiety. Or fear. Or million other reasons for why it was irregular, though neither of them were psychologists to figure it out.

And clearly, talking did not help at all.

In case of any other person, it would probably rub off on one’s behaviour but Damian Wayne was known to keep his feelings inside, showing the casual and indifferent side to the world.

Good thing there were some certain people that in time learnt to read right through him. And those certain people had no respect for time or place to bring out heavy topics, starting them out of nowhere while perched on the rooftop, observing a group of masked robbers, waiting to strike”

“So, what’s been up with you lately?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about Grayson. We shall focus on the object and not chit-chat about our problems.”

“Which you just admit you have.” Dick grinned playfully, daring to ruffle his younger brother's hair, earning an angry huff in response.

“I never said that.”

“Come on, Robin. I can read all over your face.” Dick continued steadfastly, not bothered by the fact that Damian finally turned his head to look at him.

“I am literally wearing a mask covering half of my face. It’s rather hard to read through it.”

“Is it about Y/N?”

Just the use of her name made Damian shake a little. Normal civilians would probably never notice that, but being raised in a vigilante family had its disadvantages. One of them being everyone being overly perceptive.

“You are not bringing her now. No one shall know her name, let alone anything else.”

“Okay, okay, understood” Dick raised his hands in surrender “let’s give her an alias. How about a sparrow?”

“You lost your mind, Nightwing.”

“Long time ago. Now that we settled that, why don’t you confide your problems with me?”

Damian sighed in annoyance. There were only two ways this could go.

1. He would refuse to answer and Dick would be up his ass the entire night, trying to gather information.

2. He will provide information on his own terms and maybe won’t have to deal with Dick’s stubbornness, hidden behind chattiness.

Option two seemed like a better choice, so clenching jaw and fists Damian uttered something about sparrow being overly sensitive about him leaving on patrol.

And that was how young Wayne learnt about separation anxiety.

But if Dick expected gratitude for unveiling the mystery of Y/N’s sensitivity and weepiness he got heavily disappointed as Damian only seemed infuriated even more.

He wished he didn’t know, cause then he could pretend nothing was happening.

***

But he could not pretend and it was not because of Dick’s revelation.

It was because knowing the trouble she was going through was breaking his heart, regardless of the medically correct term for the disorder.

It was 5 am when he came back.

And she wasn’t in bed.

And not in the living room.

And not in the bathroom.

“Y/n?!”

“I’m here.”

“What are you doing in the kitchen, beloved? You are supposed to—” the other half of the sentence died on his lips as he took in the surroundings. “Y/n…?”

Her hair was a mess, eyes reddened and wet, nose swollen from the obvious crying.

“Oh Y/N…” he took a few steps forward before she lunged to stop him. “OUCH! The hell--?!” Damian was definitely not expecting to end up with a shrapnel in his bare feet.

“I – I had to put my mind into something and – and- I was cleaning but—”

“It’s okay-“ he hissed, pulling out the glass.

“I broke my favourite mug and I –“

“You don’t need to explain it to me.”

“I took it a sign that something might have happened to you and –“

“Y/N.”

“- and it made me freak out even more and –“

“Y/N!”

“I’m sorry!” she squealed, dropping down the packet of band aids and bandages she managed to gather in a poor attempt to help him.’

“I don’t care about the bleeding!” he grabbed the supplies and put them on the nearby table, instead reaching out his hands to her. A display of affection that only happened in the most vulnerable situations.

Just like now.

“I don’t know what’s happening.” She sobbed, diving into his warmth “I’ve never been this giddy. I’ve never freaked out like that before. And now it’s just seems like my mind is working against me—”

“Sh. It’s okay-“ the gentle caresses on her back were supposed to help her calm down “I’m here. I’m here with you. And I didn’t even make anyone bleed tonight. Todd though-“

“Am I going crazy?” she cut him off, looking up into his eyes with the most vulnerable gaze ever, tugging at his heartstrings.

“No. No love, you are not going crazy.”

“Then what—?”

“I believe you have separation anxiety.”

“Sep- what? The thing when kids start crying because their parents dropped them off at school?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m an adult!”

“Yes.”

“So how can it possibly—?”

“Hush.” Damian kissed her forehead, pulling her closer “do not worry about it now. We’ll figure it out at the right time.”

“But-“

“I need you to trust me on that. Can you?” his piercing green eyes focused on hers, almost staring right into her shattered soul. “Can you?” he repeated.

“Yes….”

“Good. Now, let me just help you ease up. We’ve got some time to make up for. And I intend to make every minute count.”

“Damian…?”

“Hush. No words now, beloved. Appreciate the cuddles and soft time with me while you can.” He muttered, leading her to the couch, settling down on it, refusing to let her speak for the rest of the night, silencing her every time she dared to make even one word.

If anything, with the fact he took her problem so seriously, she was going to develop unification anxiety.

#damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x you #robin x you #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne fanfiction #batman

301 notes · View notes

princessfbi · 6 months ago

Note

The only sound in the quiet room is running water. + bucktommy

Bucktommy

The only sound in the quiet room is running water. That was the only thing Tommy could hear over the dull roar in his ears. Water. Cold, unfeeling water that dripped down his hands and turned pink in the sink before disappearing into the drain. He couldn’t get the blood off his hands. It was stained into his skin and refused to let go. But that made sense when it came to Evan he supposed. Evan had latched onto Tommy and refused to let go no matter how many times Tommy put distance between them. Sometimes to protect Evan. Sometimes to protect himself. A warmth had bloomed somewhere under his ribcage and sometimes it scared Tommy how much he craved it. It had only grown wide and all consuming with each passing day he got to spend with Buck until those days turned into nights. Nights that he treasured the quiet as he stared down at Evan’s sleeping form full of freckles and wild curls while he clung to Tommy. He couldn’t get the blood off. It was staining his skin. Tommy scrubbed harder. He needed more soap but that would only make it spread so he stripped his hands with tight fingers and then his nails as he tried to scrap it off and he— “Hey.” Chimney’s voice broke through the roar and Tommy wanted to sob in relief. But he didn’t. He held it in and pressed his lips together to keep from screaming. If he started, he didn’t know if he’d ever stop. “Tommy,” Chimney said, one hand on the small of Tommy’s heaving back and the other bullying his thumbnail away from his knuckle. The same knuckle Evan had pulled up to his lips in the car and kissed over and over and over again while he begged Tommy to stop. To let him run in for a snack. Tommy never should’ve stopped. They had snacks at home, he’d said. Then Buck had given him that insufferably sly grin that was too cute on his cheeks and admitted to eating them all. Tommy had stopped. He never should’ve stopped. Then there had been a kid with a bad attitude but hadn’t been bothering anyone. A shop owner with a twitch in his stink eye. Raised voices. Thrown chips. Fucking chips! Then a bang. The kid dropped and then ran. Buck had dropped and didn’t get up. “Evan! Baby! Baby hey! Eyes on me. Come on. You know the drill. You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. Help’s coming. Just keep those eyes open baby. Get the fuck away from me! I’m here. I’m here baby. I know it hurts. I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” “It was a trigger happy asshole, Tommy. You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Chimney said and it was only then that Tommy heard the words beneath the water and the roar. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Tommy couldn’t get the blood off his hands. The blood that had stained his skin when he’d pressed down hard on the bullet wound in Evan’s gut. Tommy shook his head. He shouldn’t have stopped. He’d hurt him. Buck had whimpered and pleaded when Tommy had put pressure on the wound. He’d cried and begged him to stop. Tommy kept pressure until he was almost certain he was going to snap Buck in two. The water kept turning pink. Tommy needed more soap. He shouldn’t have stopped. He shouldn’t have… The sob shattered the silence into a million pieces and he barely registered the way his knees buckled as Chimney’s arms wrapped around him. They sank to the floor as Tommy gasped and then he cried so hard he barely made any noise. Just heaving, gasping jolts of his body as he tried to make sense of it all. Chips. Fucking chips. The water was still running as Chimney held him through it all.

#tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #chimney han #the ally and the beast #prompt game #Anon #my fic writing #royal decree

285 notes · View notes

storiesofsvu · 6 months ago

Text

Decadent Desires Ch 6

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, sexually charged conversations, teasing/banter. Smut, sex toys, minor bondage, spanking. A guest star of Anthony DiNozzo! I didn't really want to bring in a whole THIRD fandom into this but it ended up working out really nicely and I can play around with it in future chapters too! It feels like it's been ages since I've updated this so clearly the last week was a long one lol. Remember how I said I wanted to be a chapter ahead from now on with my series? Yeah that quickly did not happen. LOL. I'm gonna try to keep up with it, and I promise y'all won't wait longer than a week between chapters, I just need to hunker down and write!

Working for Heather meant that you worked insane hours that could change at the drop of a hat, but it also meant that you could essentially make your own schedule whenever you wanted. You could do most of your job from home or a hotel, as long as you had Wi-Fi you were in the clear, you spent a lot of your time gallivanting around D.C to finish whatever tasks you needed to. Shuffling your schedule around constantly meant that you were more than given the liberty to a Thursday afternoon off and that is exactly why you were meandering down Wisconsin Avenue with Tony in tow. Some of your friends questioned why you always went shopping with him, but the truth was he knew style, understood expensive taste, always told the truth if something looked bad and the entire experience was more efficient. If you went out with your girlfriends on a shopping spree you got dragged into twelve stores you needed nothing from and had to wait while they tried on countless amounts of outfits. With Tony the most that would happen would you’d have some extra browsing time at L. Priori because he got distracted by the watches.

“You got some big White House party coming up or something?” He asked, taking a sip of the coffee you’d bought him earlier.

“Huh?” You glanced over your shoulder as you picked up the small bag, “no.”

“We’ve done jewels, we’ve done shoes,” he pushed the door open for you, holding it while you crossed through the entry way and back out onto the street, “you dropped off three dresses for alterations and looked through the catalogue of what’s coming in…”

“I just want to revamp my closet a little bit, make sure I’m prepared for summer, you know how many extra garden parties I end up at.”

“And your boss is okay with that amount of cleavage?” He asked with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, “I think you’re bullshitting me.”

“I got a little carried away doing spring cleaning and tossed half my closet.” You bluffed, “I work so much I forgot I actually wore the other shit and now need to replace it.” Veering off to the side your hand tugged open the door to Jaryam and Tony followed you inside.

“When’s your next date?” He asked with a grin.

“I never said anything about a date.”

“Then why did you just drag me into a lingerie store?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “I didn’t drag you anywhere, you love this shit. I just want some new pieces; you’ve got the right eye for colour and the masculine fetishistic imagination to tell me which ones I’ll look the best in.”

He chuckled darkly, not bothering to disagree with you as you made your way further into the shop, he was a pace behind you, fiddling with a price tag when he scoffed and you turned back to him with a raised brow, “I’ve heard you complain about the prices in Victoria’s Secret and that’s got nothing on this, a thong for a hundred and fifty dollars?”

“It’s… about the quality.” You shrugged, “thirty dollars for a scrap of fabric that falls apart in a month made in a sweatshop isn’t a good investment.” You picked up the pair that he was looking at, reading through the tag, “something hand stitched made with quality fabric that’s going to last? Worth it.”

“Hmm.” He replied, surveying you for a minute as you put the thong back on the rack, “you know, I noticed when you picked up the coffee that you used a black card…”

“You’re really working those sleuthing skills today, aren’t ya?” You teased back with a grin, moving onto a wall of lace bras.

“It’s not exactly a difficult mystery.” He smirked, following you, “fancy shoes, nice jewels, new clothes, expensive lingerie,” you turned back to face him, an unimpressed look on your face and he practically caged you into the wall, “who’s your daddy?”

“Ew, Tony, fuck off.” You groaned, shoving at his chest as he laughed, “coffee and meals can be turned into a write off. I used Heather’s card.”

“Bah! Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll just run your financials when I get back to the office.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, “they call you a very Special Agent DiNozzo?”

“Why yes, yes they do.” He smiled, getting a little smug about it and you shook your head at him.

“Then explain to me how running my financials would let you in on whose card I’m using.” You asked, watching as he opened his mouth to give you some witty response but he couldn’t find one, gaping for a minute before he let out a defeated huff and you tugged him in the other direction, “now c’mon, I know you have a good eye for lingerie.”

“Now that, I will not deny.” He replied with a smile and you did roll your eyes as he followed you deeper into the shop.

You combed through practically every shelf in the place, trying to figure out what kind of styles you were going to settle on before Tony started to share his opinions. He reminded you how good blue looked on you when you picked up a soft pink set and suggested the lace florals over lace butterflies. You were narrowing it down between a handful of choices and he was quick to intervene when he noticed you were eliminating all the variation.

“Wait,” he cut in, swiping the one you were trying to put back on the shelf, “keep that one. Get rid of this one.” He plucked the peach set from your collection, tossing it into the return pile.

“It’s cute!” You protested.

“Exactly. Everything you’re keeping is ‘cute’, you’re playing it too safe and I know that’s not you. The lilac one is the nicest, little hint of lace for a bonus, so get it.” He started flicking through the rack you had your favourites on, “keep the teal one for the crystals, plus it matches that pair of heels you bought. The rest of this batch can go but add these to your buying list.” He picked up a lacy black and red set that was mostly see through and included a garter belt, handing it off to you, and a gorgeous deep green set. “That’ll look great with your skin,” his brow furrowed for a second as he examined it, “wait it’s not your size, you’re what?” His eyes were suddenly on you and you groaned,

“Stop staring at my tits.” You stated dryly as he turned around, grabbing another one of the green set from the shelf.

“Thirty four C, right?”

“I don’t know whether I should be impressed or grossed out that you were able to figure that out.”

“They don’t call me Very Special Agent DiNozzo for nothing.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to go try these on.” You scooped up the remaining sets, “not for your viewing pleasure! Occupy yourself.”

You weren’t surprised in the least when all of Tony’s recommendations were right and you were happy to be leaving with a variety of options. Returning from the dressing room you found him near the till looking through accessories and he shot you a cocky grin as you placed all of his choices down on the counter. You shuffled the shopping bags in your hand over to the other one,

“Can you hold this?” You asked, handing him your purse as you pulled Emily’s card from within it, passing it off to the cashier. Once the purchase was completed and the cashier was wrapping up the lingerie, she placed the card down on the counter and out of the corner of your eye you saw Tony making a move for it, managing to swipe it up before he could get to it.

“Hey!” You swatted the back of his head and he grimaced.

“Ow. That was worse than Gibbs.” He muttered.

“You fuck around and you’ll find out.” You returned but he was too busy on his phone to really pay attention.

You took your purse back from him, tossing it over your shoulder as you thanked the clerk and added the bag of lingerie to the others with your shopping and the two of you made your way back onto the street. You jumped when Tony’s fingers prodded at your side, digging into your ribs.

“C’mon… let me know something, please.” He batted his eyes at you, “I just helped you pick lingerie; I deserve to know something. Doctor? Artist? App developer? Congressman?”

“Nope, nope, nope and hard nope.” You replied with a huff and he groaned so you finally turned back to him, stalling in your steps, “what I will tell you, is that she most definitely outranks NCIS, so you can officially drop it.”

“Ohoho… a new lady friend…” It was his turn to slow in his tracks, eyes lingering in the window of the next shop, “you need any special accessories for that?”

“Tony you’re insane if you think I’m taking you into a sex toy store.”

“Meh, doesn’t really matter since you’ve already covered that step.” He grinned and your brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Swiped your phone and went through your emails.” With a laugh he tossed the device back to you as you let out a gasp, “peach flavoured lube, nice. Nipple clamps? Kinky, didn’t realize you were into that kinda pain.” That earned him a hard punch on the arm, “but that double sided dildo with vibration? Now that sounds like a real party.”

“Anothony DiNozzo!” You scolded and he let out a small whine of a scoff, gesturing toward the sex store.

“I’m the perfect person to give sex toy recommendations, c’mon.” He protested and you sighed.

“Tony. You are a straight man. What could you possibly known about sex toys for me to use with another woman?”

“One of those wand things, Hibachi?”

“That’s Japanese barbecue, but nice try.”

“The wands!”

“You’re going for Hitachi.”

“Close enough!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands, “the big one’s better but I think they sell smaller ones too, more portable.” He waggled his eyebrows at you and you sighed.

“Think? Tony, pull your head outta your ass. Any self respecting person with a clit already owns one of those.”

“Really?” He smirked at you and you did your best not to groan.

“I’ve got three, a mini pink, a mini green and the big one, which yes, is far superior. Can we go now?”

“Fine.” He groaned, feigning annoyance, “you dragging me to a nail appointment next?”

“No, I was gonna buy you a late lunch.”

“You were? Or is your mommy dearest gonna buy lunch.” He exaggerated the word, nearly moaning as he said it and you immediately grimaced.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

“Yup, that one felt wrong coming out. My bad, that’s on me.”

Emily turned down dessert service, asking for the cheque instead as she gave the server a soft smile, picking up her cocktail once again as she turned back to you. In turn, you finished your drink, placing the glass down on the table as you stood, your hand coming to squeeze at Emily’s thigh softly as your lips brushed against her cheek.

“Give me a five minute head start, I’ve got a surprise for you.” You scooped up your phone, shooting Emily a wink as you sauntered away from the table in the direction of the elevator.

Her eyes followed you through the entrance of the lounge, narrowing in on your ass as you pushed the elevator button and the sparks began to fly through her body. It hadn’t been a particularly long week, but it was very safe to say that you had been on her mind more often than not. Images of your naked body strewn across the bed floating into her brain, making her cheeks flush while she was torturously bored with paperwork. A too long tedious conference call lead to her zoning out, daydreaming all the things she wanted to do to you, the noises you made echoing through her mind. It was almost a given that night that she had a rather self soothing shower when she got home, pulling her laptop out when she finally crawled into bed to take a look at what fun things she could buy to occupy your time with in the future weekends.

Emily settled the bill, slowly draining the rest of her cocktail until she was certain she’d given you enough time to do whatever it was you had planned before she finally left the restaurant. The key card beeped against the lock and she stepped inside the suite, letting the door swing shut behind her before she made sure it was locked. She stepped out of her heels, dropping her purse on the side table in the entry way before rounding the bed into the suite, catching a glimpse of you laid out on the bed and her lips twitched up into a grin.

“Well that certainly is a welcome sight.”

“Yeah?” You asked, sitting up and shifting onto your knees, “you see something you like?”

“I see plenty I like.” She walked up to the foot of the bed as you crawled on your knees to greet her, your hands settling on her hips as one of hers curled around the back of your neck, pulling your lips to hers for a kiss.

Her tongue easily slipped into your mouth when you let out a satisfied groan, both of you relaxing into the kiss, lips dancing with grace against each other. Her hand slipped into your hair, pulling out the pins to let it fall loose around your shoulders, pulling at it lightly. When her teeth scraped against your lip you couldn’t help but moan, your hands drifting up her body as you slowly began to unbutton her shirt. She broke the kiss to help you untuck the fabric from her pants, letting it drop to the floor behind her before her fingers began to trace the lines of the teal lingerie set, floating over the gems decorating your chest.

“You like the crystals?” You asked, small grin on your lips and she nodded.

“They’re gorgeous.”

“They’re Swarovski.” You replied with a near smirk and she let out a huff of a laugh.

“You really went all in, hey?”

“Just wanted to make sure I looked nice and pretty for you.” You shrugged coyly and she chuckled, giving you a once over.

“Well you do.” She leant down, kissing you gently before her hands nudged at your shoulders, “you’re not the only one who brought something fun, lie back princess.”

“I noticed.” You replied, a gleam in your eye as you dropped into the pillows, an arm extending to the nightstand where you picked up a silk tie, “multifaceted, curious as to what your intentions are.”

“First…” Emily rounded the side of the bed, “I want to see what’s under that gorgeous bra.” She nodded at you and you sat up, hands flying behind you to unclip it, gently tossing it to the side, “good girl.” She plucked the fabric from your hands, picking up a longer one from the nightstand before kneeling on the bed. “Give me your hands.” She instructed and you held your hands out for her, wrists gently pressed together as she began to wind the fabric around them, “is this okay?”

“Absolutely.” You replied, looking up at her with darkening eyes as she tightened the silk.

“Do you have a word?”

“I’m fond of peach.”

“Perfect.” With a wicked grin she placed a gentle kiss on your wrist before guiding you to lie back with your arms over your head and she looped the shorter piece through your bonds, securing the other end to the golden bar of the headboard. “No surprises there.” She purred as she slid off the bed, letting out a satisfied hum as her eyes dragged over your body.

“Hm?” You raised a brow, watching as she moved back to a spare chair.

“Just how pretty you look tied up like that.” Emily tossed a grin over her shoulder, “but you are going to need to roll over for the second part of your treat.”

You nearly let out a whine when her hands came to her belt buckle, eager to be able to see both what was coming next and what she had under her clothes. Instead of risking it you decided to behave, rolling onto your stomach, your arms stretching over your head as you twisted it to the side, just barely able to see Emily under your arm. She had busied herself with getting rid of her clothing, a neat pile forming on the small bench next to her bag as she pulled out the strap, swiftly stepping into it and securing it around her hips. Your mouth was practically watering already and then she reached into her bag again, pulling out a crop with a cute little heart on the end and you had to hold back a moan.

Emily could see the way your body tensed, how your hips ground down into the bed as she reapproached it and a dark chuckle escaped her lips. Kneeling on the bed behind you her hand grasped your ankle, spreading your legs further apart and you did your best to arch your back, presenting yourself to her.

“Such obedience.” She murmured, letting the crop lightly trace up your inseam as you let out an airy breath.

Emily slowly trailed the crop up and down your legs, just the slightest hint of touch that she knew you were absolutely begging for in your head. She could see the way your body twitched whenever it got close to the heat between your legs and a wicked grin took over her lips. The crop finally came up over the swell of your ass, softly circling and tracing patterns on your skin and you finally let out a whine. Since this was the first time you’d actually made a louder noise, Emily figured this was the time to both give in and start to really tantalize you now. She raised the crop, swatting it down onto your ass and you let out a low moan.

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm.” You eagerly nodded into the pillows and the crop trailed across to the other cheek, repeating the circles before coming down harder on that side and your breath caught in your throat.

“Ohh…” Your fingers interlaced, squeezing tightly, “harder, please.”

“My little princess likes it rough.” Emily husked from behind you, “somehow I’m not that surprised.”

The crop came down on the same spot harder than the first before she flicked it over your other cheek, swatting just as hard, watching the way your body reacted, jolting at the touch before grinding your cunt down onto the bed. She brought the head of the crop between your legs, pushing the fabric of your panties into your pussy, rubbing the leather up and down your folds as you moaned, arching into the touch.

“Fuuckk…”

Emily chuckled darkly, bringing the crop up before hitting your ass with more force, smirking at the louder moans leaving your lips, the way you were pulling against your bonds, wishing your hands were free. The sounds of the spanks echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as your moans grew louder and longer, every time the crop was brought down onto your body it grew from a tingle to a pleasurable burn. Emily continued to trail the leather across your skin, occasionally her hand gently rubbing across the spot to sooth the burn, little praises and coos leaving her lips. The tingles each time she spanked you began to build, growing together with each hit of the crop until there was a fire building right under your skin, whimpers and whines leaving your lips as you buried your face into the pillows. Every swat of the crop made your entire body shiver and you were nearly about to start begging for more when she moved it back between your legs.

“You really like this, hmm?” She asked, pressing it against your cunt again, “making such a big wet spot on these nice panties.” She rubbed it harder against you, watching the way your wetness continued to soak the fabric, “you know, I’d take them off and stuff them in your mouth if you didn’t make such pretty noises…”

You groaned softly, your hips rocking back toward the touch, a little whimper leaving your throat when the crop nearly rubbed against your clit. Emily hummed softly, lifting the crop up before bringing it back down, this time onto your pussy and you couldn’t help the noise that escaped you.

“Oh fuucck…” Your head buried deeper into the pillows, your eyes scrunching shut as you felt your pussy fluttering around nothing, your clit nearly pulsing already, juices smearing across your underwear.

Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, flipping you onto your back watching as your legs instinctively fell open for her to see the growing wet spot on your panties. She brought the crop back to your cunt, rubbing it harder against you as you started to whine, resulting in another swat that brought a gasp from your lips.

“You like this even more, don’t you princess?” She asked with a grin and you nodded, “you want your pussy spanked too?” Spank. “Think you can come from just this?” Spank.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “more, please.”

“Always such nice manners.” She praised, her fingers slipping into the waistband of your thong, tugging the fabric down your legs and tossing it behind her. Her hands soothed up your legs, spreading them even further apart from each other as her thumbs dared to brush the edges of your cunt. “Such a pretty pussy. God you’re just fucking drenched already.”

Emily picked the crop back up, rubbing it through your slick folds, pressing harder as she brought it to your clit.

“Please.” You whimpered and she chuckled softly.

The first hit was on the gentle side, her eyes tracing up your naked body, watching your face for any sign of discomfort but all she found was a look of sheer pleasure. Your eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open as breathy moans escaped them, it was all she needed to bring the crop down even harder the next time.

“Fuck.” Your body twitched off the bed, cunt pulsing as more juices dribbled out of it.

“That’s it princess.” Spank. “You’re doing so good for me.” Spank.

“Oh god…” Your hands clutched at the silk ties as your body shivered, pleasure building higher and higher with each time the crop hit your cunt.

“I know you’re close.” Spank. “Just a few more.” Spank. “Pussy’s so wet.” Spank. “Let go for me.” Spank.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your back arching off the bed, pulling against the restraints as your orgasm shot through you, pussy pulsating around nothing as your juices dripped onto the bedspread.

“That’s it.” Emily cooed, the crop gently rubbing against your cunt, smearing your wetness all around it and your thighs. “So pretty when you come for me.”

“Please…” you whimpered, “need you.”

“You want more?” She asked, gently spanking your pussy again and you whined.

“No, please! Need your cock.” You were absolutely begging, pussy fluttering, feeling so entirely empty. Despite the powerful orgasm you needed to be filled, stretched around Emily to finally feel completely satisfied.

“So needy tonight.” Emily teased, dropping the crop to the side as she climbed over you, running the tip of the toy through your folds, “this what you want?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded furiously, “please.”

“Alright.”

Emily didn’t hesitate, knowing you were absolutely drenched she sunk her cock fully into you until her hips met yours and you let out a very satisfied moan. She pulled back just enough to sneak her hand between your bodies, turning on the vibration on the base of the toy, just against her clit and a breathy sigh escaped her lips. She rolled her hips, pulling out until just the tip was left inside you and set a steady pace, fucking you thoroughly. Each thrust of her hips had your body twitching up off the bed, pulling against your restraints as you ached to touch her, pleasure shooting through your limbs.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “feels so good.”

Each thrust of her cock the head brushed right over your g-spot, pulling louder moans from you each time as your pussy began to clench down around her. You could feel your juices smearing across both of your bodies as she fucked deeper into you, picking up the pace as she knew you were getting close again.

“Are you going to come again for me angel?” She cooed, her hands gliding up your body to toy with your nipples, pinching them and rolling them in time with her thrusts.

“S-s’close.” You moaned, your hips rocking up off the bed to meet hers with each thrust.

Your hands tugged against the silk ties again, gasping when Emily’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking it into her mouth for her tongue to flick patterns across it. The double, nearly triple sensation if you counted the vibrations hitting your clit each time your bodies met was nearly too much, your pussy making almost more noise than the ones coming from your mouth. All you could do was whimper and whine, your head too fuzzy to get actual words to come out, the coil inside you got tighter and tighter until Emily’s teeth sunk into your chest and it burst through you.

“Fuck!”

Your body trembled, the tingles shooting all the way from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes as Emily continued to fuck you. Her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a low swear, now focused on chasing her own release. She sunk fully into you, pressing the vibrating part of the toy directly against her clit and it gave you the opportunity to roll your hips against hers, grinding the base harder onto her. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as your eyes scrunched shut, another orgasm bursting through you from the sensation and Emily let out a soft cry.

“Oh god.” Her hand slipped between your bodies, switching the vibrations off before she sat up.

Emily panted slightly, attempting to catch her breath as she reached out, swiftly undoing the ties and your arms were finally free to drop to the bed. You let out a soft groan, flexing your hands before Emily caught them in hers, examining your wrists to make sure you hadn’t pulled too hard and hurt yourself. Once satisfied that you hadn’t she let them drop and shifted on her knees, slipping out of you and watching your juices dribble onto the bed.

“Mmm…” you sighed, your lips curving up into a grin.

“What?” She asked with a raised brow.

“That was hot.” You replied, “kinda wish you could come inside me though.”

“Well…” she leant over you, kissing you before nipping at your lower lip, “I’m sure that can be arranged for next time.”

_____________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sires-blog

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #decadent desires #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss series

241 notes · View notes