#opportunities for him here (which is true) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sttoru · 1 month ago

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⺡ synopsis. after wandering into forbidden territory - the training grounds of the estate where sukuna’s soldiers reside - an unexpected romantic confession catches you off guard. little did you know that another concubine would snitch on you in hopes of getting you kicked out of the harem or worse, killed.

𖠵 tags. true form!ryomen sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst mostly [w/ comfort, if you can call it that], fluff-ish., suggestive. make-out session near the end. size difference [reader's body referred to as small]. mentions of murder, execution. wc: 4.2k

sukuna has known from the start that possessing a human army would cause trouble, one way or another. technically, the overpowered curse has no need for a group of soldiers. he can take up any opponent by himself.

however, he enjoyed knowing that he has full control over some weak humans who are too scared to oppose him. humans who would die for his cause, if he were to command them.

human shields: that’s what he calls them.

“speak up or leave,” the king of curses commands, piercing red eyes glaring down at the woman kneeling before him. he sits on his throne, the aura emitting from his body being one that would send anyone into sheer panic.

he’s already pissed off due to being disturbed by one of his concubines. It isn’t you – his favorite – so he has little patience to spare for the girl at his feet.

the blond girl speaks up after taking a deep breath. she came here determined to go through with her sick plan, hoping sukuna would hear her out. she knows of his favoritism—everyone around the estate did and nearly every other concubine has been thinking of the same.

to get rid of the blatant favoritism once and for all.

the nervous woman talks fast, stuttering after every word. she spills every detail about the predicament that you had found yourself in a couple moments ago.

. . .

you were walking around the training grounds out of pure curiosity. usually, no one would be there around that hour, yet today seemed to be an exception. you averted your eyes the second you saw the soldiers training in only their hakama. their muscular chests and backs were out in the open, straight up eye candy for anyone who was walking past.

however, when they saw you - sukuna’s infamous concubine who they’ve secretly developed a crush on – they froze in their place and nearly dropped their weapons. the men didn’t expect any visitors, especially not a high-ranking concubine to randomly walk through this part of the estate. it’s a rare occurrence to have anyone but the servants and generals walk by.

you silently bowed at them out of respect. you didn’t have to due to your high rank, yet you still did. you actually respect their position as soldiers. that humble nature of yours was exactly what separated you from the other concubines. it also played a huge role in the crushes that those soldiers have on you.

out of fear for their lives, the soldiers have never directly interacted with you. they heard of what happened to one of the male servants who tried asking you to accompany him for a cup of tea. his body was reduced to nothing but a puddle of dark, red blood which took the servants hours to fully clean up.

but now that you were alone, without sukuna in sight, the soldiers were braver. one of them grabbed the opportunity and started walking towards you as you stood on the engawa, simply admiring the koi pond nearby. the group of men watched from a distance as their friend attempted to make a move on you. it was the perfect opportunity to convey his feelings for you.

or so he thought.

sukuna’s eyes are everywhere. even if you think he isn’t looking, he simply is. his informants are lurking from every corner. his concubines, chefs, servants, maids and guards. all of them are his eyes and ears. you’re never fully alone. nothing you do escapes the king of curses. if you’re not being watched by him, the people under his control are lurking instead.

in that instant, it was one of his concubines who had discreetly followed you.

you had noticed it a while ago, though didn’t say a word. it’s a usual occurrence. the other women always try to catch you off guard. to catch you doing something that you’re not allowed to do, so they can report it to sukuna, hoping that it would get you expelled from his harem. perhaps even executed in front of their eyes.

although every time they report something ‘controversial’ about you to sukuna, it backfires, and they end up with their head on the guillotine.

despite the many failures, they simply cannot stop trying. one day it will work.

the blonde woman had witnessed how the soldier put his hand on your arm to stop you from walking away. the cheesy smiles he had given you betrayed his true feelings—the words he uttered after the formalities only further confirmed the concubine’s speculations.

“i’ve been admiring you for a while now. you’re a lovely lady...”

“perhaps it’s bold of me to ask this, but i would like the opportunity to get to know you better.”

“lord sukuna does not need to know of this. i promise not to tell him, so please don’t worry.”

. . .

“...that’s exactly what that soldier told her, my lord,” the concubine concludes her story with a shaky breath. the throne room is filled with a tense and rather uncomfortable silence. the woman can’t even lift her head up because of how scared she is of sukuna’s wrath. she’s scared of the fact that she could be the first one he kills in a rampage fueled by pure envy.

the curse simply stares at the top of the blonde’s head. his expression is unreadable, but the veins in his neck and on his forehead slowly yet surely start to become visible. his blood is boiling, causing his jaw to clench and his hands to ball into fists. without a word, sukuna stands up from his throne. the air in the room turns suffocating—the concubine could barely breathe. it’s as if there’s an invisible weight pressing on her chest, making her struggle to get any oxygen in her lungs.

a rough hand reaches out to grab ahold of her hair. sukuna’s fingers curl around the locks and roughly yanks the girl’s head back, forcing her to look up. his face is close to hers; his eyes are wide and glowing an intimidating red.

“woman,” his voice has a dangerous tone to it as he speaks up. he grips her hair tighter, until she lets out a pained sob as a few of her blond strands float down onto the cold floor, “you know what happens if you lie to me, correct?”

the blond concubine swallows thickly as the tears prickle her eyes. she nods, already aware of the risks she is taking. “yes, my lord. i… i promise it is not a lie,” she whimpers. perhaps her promise isn’t worth trusting, considering the infinite number of times that sukuna’s concubines have tried to sabotage his favorite girl, but the least she can do is try and convince him. to get one step closer to her goal.

the king of curses releases her head with a rough push that sends her onto her hands and knees. his intense gaze is focused on the big, heavy doors that lead down the many corridors of the estate. sukuna grits his teeth to the point he can nearly feel them crack— how dare a lowlife try to make a move on you, in his territory? his home?

a lowly human he has granted the privilege to even breathe the same air as him, nonetheless.

death shall await that piece of shit. everyone who has seen the situation play out and hasn’t done a thing to stop it or report it, will surely meet their demise as well. heavy footsteps and the deafening sounds of doors slamming open alert every living being around the estate. the air turns tense as they scramble to hide and stay out of sight of the one who’s currently making his way to the training grounds.

. . .

you’re sitting at a pavilion near the area you had visited roughly an hour ago. your eyes take in the beautiful surroundings: the sakura trees, the neatly cut bushes and the hint of the distant mountains that peek above the walls enclosing the estate. being here puts your mind at ease, even amongst all the chaos that you have withstood within those same walls.

you think back to the man who had spoken to you a couple moments ago. the way he spoke so bravely to you, knowing it could mean death if anyone were to report it to sukuna. it sure made you respect his courage. even if you did reject his offer—out of pure fear for his life and your own.

besides, you have developed a strange longing for the ruthless curse over the course of your stay. sukuna might still lack in some aspects, but something about him is attracting you and you cannot resist it. that connection between the two of you is something undeniable. something that will not die out any time soon.

you get up to go to your chambers. you’ve been here for too long while you’re not quite supposed to be roaming these places on your own. you lift your kimono a little, walking down the three steps and onto the gravel path. while you’re walking back, a couple noises from inside of the main building catch your attention.

sounds of struggle. you’ve heard those sounds enough times before to be able to recognize them with ease. you watch as guards step out into the engawa, down onto the pebbles that stretch over the entire yard. they’re pulling along a couple of blindfolded and tied up men. it looks exactly like what it is: an execution.

your throat dries up as you freeze in place. you’re not supposed to witness any of this. you’ve known of the executions that take place around the manor but have never seen them firsthand. you carefully hide your face, so the guards don’t recognize you and alert sukuna that you’re wandering around this part of his territory.

your eyes are downcast as you try to make a run for it from the sidelines, attempting to sneak into the building. this is none of your business. you don’t want to see it. you truly cannot do anything to save those souls—your word is not final around here.

you don’t recognize who those poor men are, until you hear one of them plead for his life. you’re about to successfully sneak past the many guards, however your head whips to the side out of pure shock once you hear that familiar voice. that smooth and charming voice. your eyes scan the bodies of the group that’s about to be executed.

those clothes. the group is wearing the same pants that those soldiers had on. the haircuts, their voices… there is no doubt about it.

“what—” you’re about to speak up – revealing your identity in hopes of getting answers and perhaps delay the execution with the little power you have - when you’re interrupted.

how could you not have noticed that imposing figure making its way towards you before eventually coming to a stop at your face?

you don’t know what to do or say. it’s like you have met a dead end. you can’t go back, nor can you move forward as a wall of muscles cage you into place. you don’t have time to react before sukuna’s fingers move up to wrap around your throat. he doesn’t hold on tight, at least not to the point that it hinders your airway. it’s a rather possessive gesture, a warning to not move or try anything funny.

“stay,” sukuna orders. you know you cannot defy him in any way, thus you do as told. you catch a glimpse of a silhouette behind the pink-haired man. A frown settles on your face the second you notice who it belongs to. that damned woman. . . she subtly shoots you a grin, one that makes your stomach churn and your blood boil.

you had been too reckless. you should have known that she would tell on you. if only you didn’t come around this area, none of this would have happened. those poor souls would not be lined up in a row in the yard, awaiting their inevitable end by the hands of the curse everyone fears. you feel like it’s all your fault and that nearly sends you spiraling.

“’lord sukuna doesn’t have to know,’ huh?” sukuna mocks with a dry laugh. a shiver runs down your spine once you realize what he is referring to. those courageous words that have been uttered to you today. you swallow thickly as you’re forced to lock eyes with the enraged curse in front of you.

he scoffs and turns your head to look at the blindfolded soldiers who are kneeling on the gravel, “how cute. which one of ‘em said that to you?”

you’re unable to immediately answer sukuna. there’s simply no way out of this. he will know the truth one way or another. the other concubine standing behind him will surely spill the beans if you lie. your punishment will be worse if you’re caught lying and the thought alone makes you panic internally.

“answer me,” the king of curses demands. his fingers tighten the grip around your neck, his face leaning in right in front of yours. it’s terrifying, really, even if you know sukuna wouldn’t physically hurt you in any way. at least not badly.

he emphasizes his demand with a subtle threat, “and don’t you dare lie.”

it’s futile lying to sukuna anyway. your eyes fill up with tears from the pure pressure you are experiencing. you look over the group of soldiers that are on their knees, waiting to be executed. just a few moments ago, they were laughing with each other while practicing their skills, not having a clue of what would happen. you grit your teeth. life is unfair.

you refuse to point at anyone, but your gaze does linger on one soldier on the far right. that instantly catches sukuna’s attention and he makes a mental note of it. he isn’t dumb: he is aware that you’re softhearted and selfless. you wouldn’t publicly expose anyone, because you’re afraid of what he will do to them if he were to find out.

“hm.” sukuna possesses enough information. he releases you with a slight push, all four of his eyes focused on that specific soldier. an ominous silence fills the air before you’re excused with a quick gesture of his hands. the king of curses wordlessly commands the guards to draw their swords; not a single life would be spared.

why? because the other soldiers are just as guilty. not reporting to sukuna about the behavior of their follow squad member is an act of treason by itself. besides, sukuna doesn’t really need those soldiers any longer. he can always assemble another group of weak men and put them on the front lines, to play the role of human shields.

his arms are crossed as he stares each of them down. he is about to tell the first guard to start the execution when he feels you tug at the sleeve of his yukata.

you gulp as you cling onto the fabric. you’re trying your best to change his mind. as his favorite, perhaps you had that power. to stop the blood hungry curse that lives for death and chaos. “pleqse don’t—" you open your mouth, only for one of his hands to grab you by your jaw.

“y’ don’t get to tell me what to do, brat,” sukuna answers in a low, dangerous voice. he taps your cheek twice to remind you of your place. he pushes you aside, causing you to stumble backwards into the building. be may be ruthless, but not to the point where he’d force you to witness the slaughter that’s about to take place.

“i’ll deal with ya later,” he adds with a faint huff. he quickly waves you off, “now, move.”

all you can do is stare at sukuna’s back before slowly retreating into the estate. you feel sick. you feel like you’re going to throw up as you scurry past the concubine who also makes her way back to her chambers, the woman still grinning from ear to ear.

heads will roll because of you. again.

. . .

the estate is unusually quiet around this hour. not a single soul had the guts to get out of their chambers after word spread that another execution took place. this time it was a group of soldiers, all of them taken out without a warning. they fear they’re next—not even your own lady-in-waiting dares to talk to you for the time being.

you’re laying on your bed, unable to sleep your worries away. the warmth underneath your sheets gives you a sense of comfort, but it isn’t enough to drive the negative thoughts away. you only lift your head up from the pillow when the doors to your room slide open. you heart nearly stops beating in your chest as you see sukuna stroll inside like nothing happened.

his footsteps are heavy against the wooden flooring. you sit up out of habit, to greet him. your eyes are downcast, however. you know a punishment awaits you as well. you don’t think he will expel you from his harem nor get rid of you in any way. he would have done so the moment he’s seen you back at the training grounds if that were to be the case.

sukuna sits on the edge of your bed, crossing all four of his arms. he sighs the second he sees the gloomy expression on your face. his hand reaches out, fingers pushing some of the hairs back from your face.

he doesn’t speak up for a minute, simply allowing you to gather your thoughts. his index finger and thumb glide down to grasp your chin— a gentle yet firm touch. “y’ see what happens when you disobey me?”

sukuna’s reminder sure was a violent one, but that’s to be expected from a disaster curse like him. of course he wouldn’t change his violent nature for you; you should’ve expected that. you shouldn’t have become so delusional, so blinded because of the fact that you’re his favorite.

perhaps the special treatment is getting to your head. it’s making you feel like you have a chance at taming a monster.

especially now, as sukuna climbs onto your bed and leans back against the headboard, pulling your small body onto his lap. the duality is messing with your brain and making you unable to fully despise the man in front of you.

“yes, my lord,” you take a deep breath before eventually answering with those three words. you’re a weak woman, melting right into the embrace of the man you’re supposed to hate. you cannot help yourself as you feel those big hands rub up and down your sides.

“good,” sukuna’s signature smirk tugs at his lips. you’re easy to distract, easy to please. looking at you from up close like this is somehow soothing the anger inside him. he’s supposed to punish you for disobeying his orders— for going somewhere you’re not supposed to. for interacting with a man who tried to approach you romantically.

yet he cannot bring himself to continue his rough lecture. seeing you become all putty in his hands puts his mind at ease. hurting you? kicking you out of his harem? killing you? no, none of that. all those evil thoughts are thrown out of the window the second your body made contact with his.

sukuna doesn't know whether to dislike or enjoy the undeniable power you have over him. if it was any of his other concubines in your position, he would've executed them right beside those soldiers. maybe it is a sick and twisted sense of love that he has for you.

even if love is a foreign thing to a cold-blooded curse like him.

“y’re lucky i still have some use for you,” sukuna comments as his big hand moves up to rub your head, subtly ruffling your hair. his actions are in contrast with his words. his words carry the hard 'truth', reminding you of your place as his concubine. but his actions tell you that you’re more than that to him. more than just a toy to his collection.

his fingers trace your cheek, your jaw and down to the collar of your kimono. he slips two digits between the gaps of the fabric and traces your cleavage. your heart rate picks up, which the king of curses easily senses. he shakes his head with a dry and nearly condescending laugh.

you’re easy. easy to pacify, easy to shut up with just a couple touches. that’s also what he likes about you. the fact that you’re so submissive to him when you need to be. sukuna traces the curves of your perky breasts, “you should just look pretty for me like this—listen to me and not get into trouble.”

goosebumps appear on your skin from the sensual touch. a shiver runs down your spine as the tips of his fingers nearly touch your sensitive buds before retreating. it’s a tease meant to drive you crazy, to get you riled up only for nothing to happen.

sukuna leans in and nips at the skin near your throat. his breath is hot and heavy against your neck, his kisses are chaste and tingly. two of his hands pull your upper body against his until you’re chest to chest. his lips find your shoulder, fingers loosening the kimono to expose your sensitive flesh.

“none of this would’ve happened if ya jus’ listened, hm?” sukuna whispers in a rough tone. he knows it’s not fully your fault—that stupid soldier shouldn’t have made a move on you in the first place. although, he can’t help but play mindgames with you. to mold you into the perfect woman for him.

and you fall right into his trap. “sorry. won't do it again,” you reply in a quiet whisper. your own hands clench onto the fabric of his black yukata, eyes closed and head tilted to give sukuna better access to your neck. he appreciates your thoughtfulness as his teeth sink into your flesh.

“hah. that’s what y’ say every time,” the pink-haired curse clicks his tongue. one of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers curling into the strands of your hair. he tugs at them so you can face him properly.

“. . .such a little brat,” sukuna’s eyes roam over your facial features and down to your body. he gives you a subtle grin before his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss.

you should be feeling guilty for being part of the reason why an entire group of people have lost their lives, yet here you are, shamelessly making out with their executer.

the love you share is toxic, but addictive. you find yourself crawling back to sukuna each time you promise not to fall for his tricks. and the same goes for him.

the king of curses finds himself tolerating more and more of your behavior—behavior that would have others in their grave. no matter what you say or do, he keeps you alive. he simply punishes you in other ways than death, even when death is all he knows.

sukuna bites on your bottom lip which causes your mouth to open. he takes advantage of it and slips his tongue inside, mixing his saliva with yours. he groans against your lips due to the pure pleasure he receives from your kisses.

you pull away suddenly, feeling lightheaded from the lack of air you were getting. the man in front of you scoffs and flicks your forehead for that, grumpy again because you decided to bring an end to his pleasure.

sukuna allows you a little break, however. he brings his mouth to your ear and you swear you can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks. “y’re mine. don’t you forget,” he mutters to you in a low tone.

you nod without hesitation, “all yours.”

you will never forget that. no matter what you do or where you go— you’re still sukuna’s. in every way possible. there is no escaping him. no one can take you away from him, as you’ve been reminded of an hour ago.

not another man, nor another woman. not even his other concubines can get you out of his sight. they may continue to scheme, but they won’t succeed.

what happened today is still replaying in the back of your mind as the make out session develops into something more. you’ve pushed the guilt, sadness and shame aside for the time being, though you know that those emotions will come crashing down after this is done.

death is inevitable around this place. you’ve grown a bit desensitised to it and have accepted your fate a long time ago when you realised that you had somehow done the impossible.

now you - and the others - are actively suffering the consequences— the consequences of making the ryomen sukuna fall in love.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fanfic #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x female reader

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blkkizzat · 4 months ago

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

MODERN ERA TRUE!FORM SUKUNA X READER

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

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

Enjoy!

Ok girl. Deep breaths. You got this!

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

SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!

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

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

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

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

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

Uraume had given Sukuna all three dozen of them.

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

But fuck!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They should be the one to go!

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

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

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

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

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

He sounded normal enough.

No one high could still be this grumpy.

Sukuna is The King of Curses after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Interesting.

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

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

Where would be the fun in that?

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

Your eyes growing wider with each step forward.

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

Only one solitary piece remained.

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

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

Sukuna seems perfectly content to bask in your discomfort.

You swallow, unsure how to start.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just allergies, m’lord.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, something is on your mind.

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

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

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

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

His evil grin widens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sigh.

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

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

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

Thanks to him eating all your stash.

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

Oh?

You still wanted to play games?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so, Sukuna pushed.

“HA! I could tell—”

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

100…99…98…

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

97…9—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh?

HE FUCKING MISSED!?

Whipping your body around, you face him.

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

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

—OHHHH SHIT—SUKUNA IS HIGH AS FUCK!!!

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

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

Sukuna was absolutely lit.

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What the fuck did you do, woman?!”

Did he just stutter too!?

Oh shit this was too good.

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

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

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

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

The weed is clearly having an effect on him.

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

Dripping with sarcasm you bow dramatically.

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

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

“S-SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”

CRACK~!

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were seething.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course they had hemp.

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

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

Your eyes narrowed.

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

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

Sukuna growls once more.

True, poisons had no effect on him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was… cute?

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

And dare you say even—baby girl?

Not like you could ever tell him that though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bulllllllshit!

Every single thing that man tried, he hated!

Well, every single modern thing.

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

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

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

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

Urgh, what a big diva!

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

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

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

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

Sukuna stares daggers at your sheepish expression.

You had to be an idiot.

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

For now though, Sukuna just wants to be alone.

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

“Leave.”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

At least enough for you both to escape!

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

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

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

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

Sukuna ignores you, but you persist.

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

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

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

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

His abs clenched ever so slightly from your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun for Sukuna was killing.

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

He even has a pool of blood for god sake!

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

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

“This isn’t fun.”

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

“It will be!”

For me at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare down at him sweetly.

“Slut.”

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

Checkmate.

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

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

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

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

Yet you had no idea just how much.

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

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

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

“Hi~ Look at me, Kuna~~”

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

He’s not entirely sure.

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

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

Has to be.

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

“Don’t float away on me…”

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

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

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

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

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

Everything about you right now was enthralling to him.

Has your skin always been this silky?

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

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

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

“Watch it, brat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are ya still mad at me, Daddy?”

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

Sukuna’s own eyes narrowed at your boldness.

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

This whole situation was infuriating for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes.

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

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

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

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

Of course he’d enjoyed it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d never seen him this leaky before.

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

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

Sukuna unwillingly rewards you with an audible grunt of pleasure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sukuna grits his teeth.

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

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

“HA! See!—Kunaaaa, did you actually—”

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

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

“FUUHHHHCK!”

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

RIIIIIIIP!

Sukuna tears your underwear clean off, shredding them,

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

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

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

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

“W-Waiiiiiiit—N-No fair, K-Kuna!”

Of course, your pleading slurs go unheeded.

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

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

Sukuna enjoys making a mess of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wanted more, to cum even harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sukuna chuckles at your persistence.

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

“Heh, woman, you look like shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

Sukuna was right, you are a slut.

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

But it would still be on your terms.

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

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

“BRAT—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You would struggle enough with just one of them.

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

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

You mumble to yourself, clearly floundering.

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

That was the end of resistance for Sukuna.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he was nearly in your ribs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In order to guarantee both of your pleasures.

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

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

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

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

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

And that is exactly what breaks him.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen.

“Did you just moan from your tummy!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So close. You’re so close. So clo—

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

With no warning....asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eat it.”

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

Who the fuck did you think you were?

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

Sukuna scoffs.

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

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

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

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

“I don't, get pregnant.”

“I—wait…WHAT?!”

You must have heard wrong.

Sukuna would want a lobotomy before a kid.

He always pulled out.

He just did not tell you to get pregnant.

No way!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shiiiiiit!

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

“Su-S-Sukuna, pleeeaseee, Daddy.”

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

More of everything.

Sukuna, obliges you.

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

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

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

“K-Kuna, I’mma—shiiiiit—cum!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perish.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Him looking at you this way is freaking you out.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Sukuna exhales, exasperated.

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

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

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

“Got me there, Daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he’d fight you over that later.

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

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

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

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

Sukuna said it in his head.

Sukuna swore he said it in his head.

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

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

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

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

“Checking for stitches.”

Sukuna gives a disgruntled snort, scoffing at your foolishness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sukuna stares at you unamused.

“Aweee—Please, Daddy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm…one more question, Kuna?”

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

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

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

“How’d they taste?”

Seriously?

You’re fucking insufferable.

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

“Decent. Now sleep.”

Your shrill squeal has him regretting his compliment immediately.

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

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

“I loathe you.”

“Love you t—”

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

“SLEEP!”

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

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

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

Huh?

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

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

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

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

Ok, at least he had the decency to—

A flash of red catches your eye.

Oh, fuck…

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

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

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

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

Sukuna sinks low to crouch over you.

“Now, now—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

comments & reblogs make my coochie cream

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nightingale-prompts · 3 months ago

Text

Nightwing gets a sidekick introducing: "Batboy"

Continuation of this post: "Danny has Bat wings"

|Next|

Dick tries to tell himself that he's better then Bruce. He's not going around taking young orphaned boys with unique abilities willy-nilly. No, he very careful. Besides this is first- well second sidekick.

He's doing a public service anyways. You can't have a kid with giant bat wings just falling from buildings. If Nightwing hadn't stepped in to stop those goons trying to catch the kid and sell him then who knows what would have happened. What if they tried to cut off his wings and turn the boy into a bloody trophy for the Bats?

There are many villains in Bludhaven who'd take the boy out or take him in. Dick already had a sinking feeling that Heartless would try his hand at killing the kid after all he targets the weak and helpless like a coward.

It was easy enough to convince the boy to be his friend. Dick did have natural charm and charisma after all. All it took was a meal from batburger and a fruit cup to get the kid to open up.

Danny (apparently his family gave him a normal name) didn't live with his family anymore due to ideological differences. That difference was that they thought he shouldn't exist anymore and wanted to turn him into an experiment. Poor kid didn't even get to finish his freshman year of school before he had to leave. He was a small town vigilante for a few months before the incident.

Dick saw an opportunity but was subtle about it. He invited the kid to live with him until he got his education. Its also totally ethical because the kid was a vigilante already.

Everything kind of went by quickly. Dick had done everything possible to hide Danny until he could come up with a plan of how to tell everyone.

True Dick didn't "need" a sidekick but come on, look at him! He's a boy with bat wings! Dick could put a little cowl on him and dress him up like Batman. I mean he's not a dog but it would be funny. The irony there, the bird-themed hero now had a bat-themed sidekick. That is the universe's way of sending a message.

After training Danny Dick learned that the kid had an endless supply of energy and ADHD that rivaled his own at that age. The kid also couldn't fly, it was actually closer to gliding which was still useful but he kind of looked like a flying squirrel when he jumped off ledges.

The term issue with taking Danny in was that Dick was still a Wayne and while he could hide the kid while he was swinging through Bludhaven, Dick Grayson could not.

Danny could hide his wings like they weren't even there whenever he wanted to look human. Which was a start, next he needed a new identity. One that wouldn't tip anyone off.

Dick needed to pull some strings without alerting Barbara or Tim. A new name was forged: "Daniel Nightingale" (Dick patted himself on the back for that one).

With that Dick was ready to let Danny out in the field. For the most part, Danny was as reliable as any Robin if not a bit crazy. Danny was way too charming for his own good but also completely feral. The public adored the domino-masked kid in his green and black costume. Danny didn't wear a cape because of his wings so he used them as a cloak.

When citizens saw them in public they'd offer the kid fruit cups and candies just to get close enough to see his wings. The people of Bludhaven were also excited to have their own version of Robin since Gotham had so many. Also, the kid was so marketable. Look at the way his wings flapped when he was excited.

Danny's or more specifically "Batboy's" presence would not go unnoticed.

Well, this can't end well.

Welp. Dick should have expected this. He couldn't even be upset. He doesn't regret anything that he's done.

Danny was still in bed, actually it was a hammock which was more comfortable for a bat. Dick wondered if he could sleep upside down. The kid was comfortable here and probably better off here than in Gotham. Once the adoption goes public however things will get complicated. Danny may end up Bludhaven's sweetheart or outcast. He'll probably end up fine...probably.

#dc x dp prompt #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp #danny fenton #dick grayson #nightwing #danny phantom #barbara gordon #damian wayne #batman

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honorhearted · 1 year ago

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Benjamin grinned. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you sulk -- maybe I should put that 'chipper princess act' to the test. Still, I think I could be amenable. Shakespeare has comedies, as well."

Although Emma's assessment made sense, he still felt a little put off by the assumption. "Why does everyone think I can't be carnal?" he asked. "I mean, yes, I would never succumb for sport or without meaning, but I think I proved I'm not a complete wet blanket. With the right amount of incentive, I can be very easily persuaded...and repeatedly."

Flushing slightly, he smiled and looked away. "I'm grateful I'm not on the same godless tier as Bradford, though I'm still unconvinced. Perhaps your father will just take one look at me and know what I've done. I've heard fathers have a sixth sense for that sort of thing."

The more Emma spoke, the more Benjamin found himself liking, and even admiring her father. "I believe he's right," the major softly said, "and I'm not just saying that because I wish to survive this visit." Chuckling, Benjamin squeezed her hand. "Family and friends are what I value most. Expressing shame and belittlement towards someone you're supposed to love, and all for the sake of approval, seems cowardly. I'd never do that to my future wife...should I have one." His smile turned sheepish. "I never like to get ahead of myself."

"Such a diligent student." Emma's fingers ran through his hair, soft and fond, and Benjamin found himself melting into her touch. It seemed that no matter the circumstance, he couldn't keep from falling prey to her every whim and fancy.

"Funny," he softly said, brushing his lips over hers, "I think you're by far my favorite instructor...though I'm grateful no one else was quite so hands-on."

A slight flush stained his cheeks from the shameless innuendo, and leaning into her kiss, he angled in with increasing ardor, his pulse quickening as the familiarity of her soft, pleasing warmth flooded through him in heady waves.

Forcing himself to break away -- he needed to maintain some form of propriety -- Benjamin gave a bashful smile and lowered his eyes. "I thought we agreed we should be careful," he softly said. "If we keep...i-if we keep doing that, I'm not so sure I can oblige. And I can guarantee that Caleb storms in here without warning -- and often."

For the sake of continuity, sure, as if he wouldn't love to discuss plots and themes and whatever else was to say about a book with her. Emma smiled in amusement, basking in the closeness and easy talk. "My request is... no tragedy. I want happy endings. Especially if there is some romantic plot in the middle of whatever you are talking to me about. I like when the hero gets good things. Unless you want me to sulk, that is."

After all, heartbreak had always been more than she could handle, even when fictional. It was much better to focus on happiness, like the stories her mother read to her as a child.

But truly, is the idea that unfathomable? Caleb's complimented your beauty countless times.

"Are you serious?" she questioned with a laugh, "Are you serious right now? Yes, Caleb complimented my beauty, so if Caleb had been the one telling you he had bedded me, I wouldn't put it past you to believe it. But you? When have you shown interest of that sort? I think Caleb could walk on us right after the act, and if I told him we are flushed from bickering he'd buy that too. It's more believable than you actually wanting me and indulging in that want. I had trouble believing it." In fact, she still had trouble believing he was so calm about it all, no regrets, no doubts besides fearing her father. "Plus, complimenting my beauty means nothing. It's just words... otherwise I'd have to think most men at camp are interested in me, and I doubt that's true."

He seemed surprised that she's write about him to her parents, as if she didn't gravitate to him at all times, as if he wouldn't in fact be the very first topic in most of her letters, followed by Caleb and the others who had grown closer to her. Would he mention her if he had the chance to speak of frivolous things with her father, a moment to catch up and talk about life and not only life during war? "I'm afraid is the too flattering extreme, if I think about it from your point of view, but believe me, it's a much preferable end of the spectrum since you don't wish to be buried by my father. Now Bradford may want to steer away..." Benjamin was lucky Grace wasn't her actual sister and wouldn't be brought there, because to her she had also written how handsome Ben was, and Grace was the type of person to make Caleb look shy and reserved by comparison.

"Oh, I understand, August is equally uninterested in romance, but my father never says no to anything new and found that he enjoyed romance more than anything else. He says that as a man who gets to live every day with the love of his life, he finds interesting to read of all the ways such relationships can grow... That, and daddy always says a man, unlike a boy, never hides his passions out of fear of judgment, he must be true to himself so that he can be proud of himself. And he also says that a true man is one who loves and dotes upon his family, so you can see how the two things came together and he made a point of people knowing he will read romance if he feels like reading romance. You are free to dislike romance, but trying too hard to appear disgusted by it so that you can be considered manlier? Yes, that is something he'd judge a man for. Same with men who act like their wives are burdens, he despises those... He is called prince Charming, after all." For several reasons, starting with her mother's sarcastic use of it when they first met, but now it was more of an affectionate way to refer to his fairy tale behavior towards wife and daughter. "He's a man of very strong ideas, and ideals, and he'll like you by default because I like you, but I have no doubt that he'll also approve of you simply because you are a gentleman. Not disrespecting, undermining or belittling me goes a long way with him..."

She blushed at the little kiss, and stroked his hair lovingly, lips pulling into another smile - he wanted to study to impress her parents. She wouldn't even be shocked if he took notes about romantic novels. "Such a diligent student," she teased amusedly, moving from his shoulder only to draw him to a kiss, still feeling the urge to do far more wicked things than that every time she thought of it. She had no explanation for that, but since they were alone and undisturbed she could at least satisfy it.

#smiletimeisrunningout #a calming calamity #ben x emma #//LOL yeah ben's like ummm sounds fake but okay #at the idea of them not wanting her xD #and IT'S TRUE at least ben has plenty of 'nerd opportunities' here lol #i can't wait to see that play out tbh #especially the mom energy cuz ben hasn't had that in SO long #to the point anna had to mention it in s3 #which ofc upset him so YEAH ben needs that :' )#if he can behave himself in the meantime lol

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81sainz · 17 days ago

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DIET PEPSI ★ L. NORRIS

★ PAIRING: boyfriend!lando x female!reader

★ GENRE: NSFW

★ SUMMARY: in which lando pulls over to watch the sunset with you in his porsche; things take a turn from there.

inspired by “diet pepsi” by addison rae

★ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

★ WARNINGS: car sex, semi public sex, nasty kissing, making out, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, teeny bit of praise cause I can’t help myself, cumshot. lando is soooo sweet. I think that is all! please be noted this is only semi proofread.

★ AUTHORS NOTE: finally! making my formula 1 fic debut! I hope you all enjoy this. I started writing this somewhere before summer break and unfortunately just got to finishing it. life…am I right? I guess the lyrics hold true because my boy has won 2 times since then! I know this one’s a bit short, but feedback is appreciated!

“Are you sure no one is up here?” you asked your boyfriend as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

Lando reached over slightly and gave your thigh an affirmative squeeze. “It’s fine, I was looking around.”

The two of you were on a drive in his 911 carrera and pulled off to a small spot up on a hill that overlooked the city. It was later in the evening and the sun was setting; casting an orange glow over Lando when he turned to you.

“You look so pretty in the light. Come here.”

Lando adjusted his seat before helping you over the center console and gearshift of his vehicle.

“I don’t want to break anything.” You spoke out loud with a laugh as Lando had his hand on your leg to help you.

Lando shushed you. “You’re fine, I’ve got you.”

You were in his lap within seconds; adjusting the skirt that you were wearing slightly to get more comfortable.

“Comfortable?” Lando brushed your hair off of your shoulder before planting a few kisses softly onto your skin near your collarbone.

You hummed in response, nodding before combing your fingers through his soft curly hair as his mouth made its way up to your neck.

You let a small whimper escape your lips when Lando’s teeth scraped your skin slightly.

Your hand tightened in his hair as you rocked your hips into his lap; feeling his bulge through his jeans.

“Fuck.” Lando swore under his breath as his hands roamed your thighs and to the curve of your ass underneath your skirt.

“I want this off of you.” Lando glanced up at you quickly for any sign for him to stop before unbuttoning and unzipping your skirt, removing the item of clothing from your body and throwing it into the passenger seat.

You mentally thanked yourself for the outfit choice of yours.

“Wow.” Lando let out a sigh, leaning to kiss you again as his hands returned to their place on your thighs, and moved up to your waist.

You were eager for him, grabbing a hold of his white button down shirt for any way to get him closer to you.

Lando shifted in the driver seat, his hands holding your hips as his jeans brushed against your cunt.

You let out a moan into his mouth, and Lando took that as an opportunity to tongue kiss you; reaching up to grab the nape of your neck with one of his hands.

Pulling away slightly with a hum, you noticed Lando’s breathing to be slightly more erratic than before.

“Baby, I need you..” Your voice faded when Lando kissed you again. You knew you didn’t really have to say anything; Lando knew you like the back of his hand.

“I’ve got you.” Lando mumbled, guiding you to rest your knee up onto the door panel of his porsche. “Stay like this for me, ok?”

You nodded, biting down onto your bottom lip as he locked eye contact with you.

Lando quickly glanced in his rearview mirror to check if anyone was around; still nobody.

He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, audibly groaning at how easily his middle and ring finger slipped inside of you.

You let out a whimper, squeezing onto his bicep for some stability.

“Oh my fuck, why didn’t I take you home?” Lando was talking to himself, because there was no way you were going to answer him.

There was absolutely no space between the two of you, as this car was not ideal.

You could hear the squelching noise coming from underneath you, making you look down; covering your mouth to stifle your moans. There was nothing that Lando hated more than when you hid from him.

“Get that hand off of your mouth, sweetheart.” Lando spoke, slipping a third finger into your cunt; knowing you’d react.

“Good girl, gonna cum for me?” Lando asked, kissing your jaw and down towards your collarbone. “Hmm?”

You were breathless, but still managed to use your words. “No.” You paused, your voice sounding like a whimper, grabbing onto Lando’s shirt as you tried not to fall apart. “I need you to fuck me, please.”

“Fuck, are you sure?” He asked, his face centimeters from yours. Lando was taken aback at your forwardness, but willing to do anything you wanted.

You hummed, nodding before kissing him. You moved your hand down between your legs; feeling the now very prominent bulge in Lando’s jeans.

He let out a deep throaty groan at the contact. “Fuck.”

You tried to unbutton his jeans really fast, but with your position on his lap it wasn’t working.

“I got it, I got it.” Lando’s larger and more steady hand replaced yours as he worked his pants down to leave enough room for his cock.

You let out a sigh when you felt him teasing the head of his leaking cock against your folds. “I can’t believe we’re doing this here.”

“What?” Your voice was breathy as Lando gripped your hips to lower you down onto him. Your question was instantly replaced by a moan of his name.

“Nothing.” Lando grunted before throwing his head back. “God, how do you feel so fucking good?”

He still had a grip on your hips; hitting all of the right spots that drove you insane.

“Hmm- Fuck!” You cried out. “Right there, right there.”

“Shit.” Lando swore, letting go of you with one hand to have you look at him. “You’re cumming already?”

You eagerly nodded before Lando suddenly crashed his lips with yours. The kiss is sloppy; messy.

You could feel your thighs starting to ache, and a tinge of overstimulation when Lando applied pressure to your clit with the pads of his fingers.

Gasping, you pulled away from the kiss, swearing under your breath as Lando was pulling another orgasm from you so quickly as you still fucked yourself on his cock.

“You can give me one more, yeah?” His voice was low as his hot breath ghosted your face. “Make a fucking mess out of my car.”

In your attempts to slam down onto him harder, your rhythm faltered as you came again. Your legs were now shaking as you clenched around Lando’s cock.

The sun was almost down, making it somewhat difficult to see his reaction; but you had an inkling that he had to be close.

“Lando…” Your voice was a slight whimper again, making Lando wince. “Cum in me, please.”

“God im close, im really fucking close.” Lando spoke, sucking in a shallow breath through gritted teeth.

It wasn’t too long after that he finally reached his peak, nearly holding you down on his lap as he grunted expletives as he tried to be as quiet as possible.

“Lando…” you winced as you already felt the mess between your legs. “Stay inside of me like this.” You leaned into him, resting your head on his heaving chest.

“We can’t stay here.” You could tell Lando was smirking by the way his voice sounded. One of his hands smoothed out your hair before he kissed the top of your head. “I know you’re tired, but we can’t.”

“I know.” You huffed, exaggerating a pouty attitude. “You’re so warm.” You kissed Lando near his mouth a few times, making him scrunch his nose.

Finally you sat up, letting Lando help you off of his lap and into the passenger seat. The two of you fixed your clothing before Lando leaned over the center console to kiss you.

“Okay, take me home.”

#f1 smut #formula 1 smut #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #formula 1 driver x reader

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backinmyphase · 3 months ago

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Not your husband

Summary: You are going to marry the Satoru Gojo. A dream come true right? Well when he doesn't even show up to the meetings to arrange your marriage, it becomes clear that it's more a nightmare.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3040 words

Next part Masterlist

Sane Geto AU (I am an Angst writer, but not like Gege. Please excuse any errors in my writing)

The world of Jujutsu was never a world for you.

Born into a clan, which only saw your value in your technique. Born into a family, which only saw your mistakes. Born from a mother, who had the same problems but still resented you.

Born into a world full of curses but still being told you were the biggest of all.

"Don't daydream, you will make a bad impression. And you really can't afford that."

The woman in front of you isn't pleased. She isn't since she knew she wouldn't give life to boy.

It's hard as woman in a Jujutsu clan.

It's not about how your technique can help you, it's about how your technique could help your son at exorcising curses.

"Yes, mother."

She frowns as she looks at you. Displeased she fixes her posture a bit, signaling you to do the same. You obey.

"You can't afford to make any mistakes today. Just do as I told you. I can only hope you have learned anything."

As you nod you realize what all this means. The dress kimono you are wearing. The expensive tea that is ready to serve. The hairpin you have gotten from your mother, who did your hair today.

All of it becomes so real.

Your husband has been decided.

"You won't say anything, until you are being asked." The woman hissed. "And please keep a smile on your boring face, then it at least looks not so simple."

You never discovered your technique and what you could do with it. It wasn't easy. Knowing that everything you did would result in you being married of.

And as you sat here in this big room with your mother, you could only wonder.

Who would your husband be? Could it be someone who understood you?

Someone you could love?

As the door opened you saw your father who looked onto the ground as he spoke.

"They are here."

Your mother only nodded, as your father closed the door. Just a few minutes later the door was opened again.

And a beautiful woman stepped inside.

She smiled at your mother as she took a seat in front of her. But the smile was the same as the smile of your mother. And maybe the same of your own.

As she sat down on the opposite side, you served the tea. The best tea your clan could afford.

For a man that didn't seem to have come.

The woman gave an apologetic smile. "My sincere apologies, but my son... Well he is in a bit of a rebellious phase, which lead of him disappearing before this meeting."

Your mother's smile faded a bit. "Does he know of what importance this meeting is for our clans?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, he knows." She slightly eyed you before she spoke again. "He just doesn't care."

Silence flodded the room. It was like a cold hand slidded down your back as you realized.

"I hope the Gojo Clan will show more interest in our connection. We will be very disappointed if not." The smile of your mother was just as cold as the hand that seemed to choke you.

This was Mrs. Gojo. The mother of the strongest.

Gojo Satoru.

The one who seemingly stood above anyone. The one who jumped at every opportunity to mess with the higher ups.

Who will be your husband.

And he didn't even show up to meet you.

"Of course. He will learn." The woman sighed as she spared you a glance again. Then she smiled that smile again.

And you mirrored it.

"Your future husband isn't the easiest person." The woman sighed as she looked at you. "Even as a baby he knew what he wanted and how to get it."

Not knowing how to react you just nodded.

The woman laughed at that. "But no worries! Even though he is... Difficult, you will love him. He has that effect on people."

Your mouth dried up at the mention of love. How could this woman talk about love at the table your arranged marriage would be discussed? How could she talk about love when you didn't even have a saying in this arrangement? How, when you will marry the strongest?

Satoru Gojo?

"I really hope that he will learn." Your mother smiled while taking a sip from her tea. "He should know that his actions are what keep the Gojo Clan still important. He shouldn't throw that away."

The tension grew a lot, as Mrs. Gojo mirrored the smile and took a sip of the tea. "Well at least I brought him to our Clan. In the end that's the biggest thing a woman could achieve right?"

It was sick. We lived in modern times, but the Jujutsu Society was still so far behind, floating under the radar, with the excuse of making the world a better place.

"It's true." Your mother sighed as she lowered her cup. "The strongest really is the biggest achievement you could have ever accomplished. Being the parent of such a child... But I wonder..."

Your mother now didn't even try to hide her distain. "Why does his mother not have him under control?"

Klirrr

"Because." Mrs. Gojo's hand shook as it held the broken cup. The sharp shards cutting into it. "As a boy, he can have this freedom."

The black tea in your cup grew cold as long with the atmosphere in the room. Your mother stood up and left the room without a word. Her steps filled the silence in the room. And as she closed the door the woman in front of you sighed.

"Difficult woman, isn't she?" Mrs. Gojo let go of the cup shards while hissing. Her mask no longer in tact as she didn't smile anymore.

"Well who isn't?"

She looked at you surprised and then chuckled. "I guess you are right."

On the same day the arrangement was consolidated. It was official.

You will marry Satoru Gojo.

"Suguru, how could this happen? To me?" Satoru whined as he complained to his best friend. "It all has to be a bad joke, right?"

"No, it sounds like a normal thing in jujutsu clans. I'm just confused why you didn't have any saying. You know, as the strongest." Suguru didn't look up from his book as his best friend groaned.

"That's what I'm saying! I don't give a damn about this whole clan thing."

As they were sitting in the park near their mission, they of course already finished not even breaking a sweat, the sun slowly set.

"It is a really bad system. How the clans only strive after power and never consider the lives of their toles." Suguru muttered as he turned the page.

"And now I have to marry a random girl I don't even know!" Satoru groaned again and buried his face in his hands.

"And she has to marry you." Suguru sighed.

Satoru looked at him slightly annoyed. "What do you want to say? Just say it."

"Well, I am sure, she is just as horrified as you at the sound of marriage. I'm just saying you could at least try to get to know her."

"I'm not going there." Stubbornly Satoru shook his head. "Never. I'm not giving them that satisfaction."

Suguru looked up at his friend and now he shook his head. "I pity your soon to be wife."

Offended, Satoru turned to his friend. "Hey! I'm your friend in need here!"

Suguru placed his bookmark gently in his book and then closed it. "Just promise you will show up to the wedding."

Satoru grinned. "Why? You scared of the higher-ups for me?"

"Not for you." He stood up as he looked down at his friend.

"For your wife. If an arranged marriage isn't going well, you know who gets blamed. And what you're doing is just cruel to her."

Gojo didn't say anything as he put on his blindfold.

"Do I look pretty?"

You didn't dare be louder than a whisper. "Mother?"

Her sigh gave you confirmation that she wasn't pleased. As she looked you up and down, her frown never disappeared. "As long you don't make that face, it's passable."

She stood up. "For a wedding you look... I just hope your husband will like you at your best."

"Soon to be husband." you corrected her quietly as you looked in the mirror.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She raised a brow but nodded slowly. Then she paced through the room impatiently. "That woman still hasn't given us any signs."

"Mrs. Gojo is probably seating the guests." a little part of you wanted to defend this woman. Your future mother in law.

"Or the groom makes problems again." your mother shook her head, like always when she spoke about the young Gojo.

After he didn't show up to a single meeting, she was sure that Mrs. Gojo didn't raise him right and that she as his mother should be blamed.

It was so pathetic. How you already felt his displeasure, his hatred towards you.

"Mother?"

"What is it?" she was annoyed.

"What was your wedding like?"

...

"Just like this one. It's tradition in our clan." her face was stone cold.

And you felt sympathy for her. She also had an arranged marriage. A wedding in which she didn't have any saying. A husband who she never chose.

"It's the bride's moment." The voice of Mrs. Gojo halled through the room.

Your mother smiled at you. You smiled back.

"Just don't mess it up."

There were too many guests. Mostly people you didn't know. And all of them looked at you, while you made your way to the altar.

Under their stares you felt small.

But there was also this man. This guy with white hair, that stood at the end of your path. This boy that refused to even meet you before the wedding.

He gave you a glance and then continued to stubbornly look straight ahead.

As you stood before him, he didn't seem to be here with his thoughts.

And at this moment you knew he didn't want to marry you. No, you knew that before. But you knew that he would never open up or try to make this work.

And you didn't want that.

"I do."

No, you really didn't. And as he spatted the same words you knew that he was lying too.

"Oh, you lucky girl!" The old woman, you didn't even know, said.

The after ceremony was not nice. All the guests wanted to talk to Gojo and some, not many pestered you. What really stung you was that they made more effort to talk to you than your own husband did.

"To marry such a handsome man." she looked at you and smiled knowingly.

"Of course it's an honor to marry Gojo Satoru as he is an important figure for the jujutsu society." Everything you said sounded like a broken record that lost any meaning.

She chuckled. "You can be honest with me. An heir will be on the way shortly, right?"

You hated this talk about an heir. Hated, hated, hated this people that keep telling you to hurry up and sleep with this man that didn't even look at you.

"We will see."

She laughed at that. And somehow you managed to excuse yourself from the conversation.

The rest of the evening was torture, but you somehow survived. Gojo didn't talk to you. He just disappeared at some point, leaving you alone in the cave of the lions.

His mother was right. He was a difficult person.

You hated that you had to ask around to be driven to his estate. Hated, that he didn't open the door, it was the personal chef that was going to leave. Hated, that you stood alone in this cold house.

He seemed to like to leave you alone. To just go.

You didn't want to sleep at this house. You didn't want to, but where should you go? Where could a place be, where you could hide?

Gojo had places. Not you.

You slept on the couch that evening. Your wedding dress was still on, as you didn't know what in this big house was to wear for you.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Satoru didn't like to hear that from his best friend, as he stood at his doorstep.

"I just need a place to sleep."

"I said to go to the wedding." Suguru felt like babysitting a toddler.

"And I did."

"Then why are you here? And not with your wife at your house?" Suguru slowly began to lose his patience.

"Can you just let me in, you ass?"

After shaking his head, Suguru opened his door wide enough to let Gojo in.

"Why are you here?" he wasn't going to make it easy for Satoru to forget he left you there.

"Had enough."

"You're such a child." Suguru shook his head. That's what ticked Gojo off.

"Stop it!" He threw his shoes on the floor.

"You can't judge me! Not when you don't know how it feels to have your future stripped from you just because you have been born in this family!"

Suguru kept silent this time.

Your things were shiped to this mansion you should now live in. It wasn't a lot but your necessary clothes. Finally.

Finally you could take the dress off.

The clothing that reminded you that this was real. That your reason in life was already fulfilled and now you should just cease to exist.

No, that wasn't true, was it? You still had to bring an heir.

Will you ever get used to this new prison? You doubt it.

It was so big and cold. So many things but it didn't have this personal touch. It felt empty, unloved. Did Gojo even live here?

Well it seems like he wouldn't if you were here.

It was stupid. You didn't know him, just saw him yesterday for the first time in person. And still it was so clear he wouldn't make it easy for you.

You felt unloved.

"A letter, Mrs. Gojo."

The sudden voice blew you away from your thoughts. Another thing you wouldn't get used to. There were servants for the Clan leader. Like this girl. They were only needed in the kitchen, but it still felt wrong.

And something felt so wrong with being called this name.

"From who?"

The girl before you had a pitiful look. "Your mother." She cleared her throat. "She said, it's about your arrangement."

As you looked down at this paper, it felt like cursed energy was coming from it.

"Oh. Alright, thank you." Hesitating you took the letter.

The girl just nodded and made her way to the kitchen. The silence in this house was haunting.

Again you looked at the letter in your hands, and wished it was only paper. What should you do from now on? How would you spend your life?

Well obviously not with your husband as he wasn't even here.

And you would make sure that he didn't see the letters from your clan.

"You're here." Satoru Gojo didn't seem pleased to see his wife in his house at this evening. Rather displeased, the way he frowned like a little child.

'Well.' you thought. 'That's to damn bad. He should have come to the arrangement hours.'

"Yeah. I have to be."

He didn't even look at you. Humiliation after humiliation. What would your child self say? Seeing that your own husband didn't even look or smile at you? The hopeless romantic would be crushed.

And now they definitely are.

"I see." His voice was barely audible. Oh, what a humiliation this must be for him! The strongest! Not even in control of his own marriage.

You really should pity him. Be understanding. Like the good wife your mother wanted you to be.

But you didn't have the strength to do that. No, you didn't sympathize with this man, that stood in front of you. The one who had the privilege of doing what he wanted till now just because he was blessed. Because he was born a boy.

And you were not.

"My things were brought this morning and Hina showed me around. I already-"

"Who is Hina?" Gojo sounded confused.

"The servant girl. The one who helps to cook?" you couldn't believe him. She even told you that she was working here since 3 years!

"Oh, yeah she. Continue."

You didn't like his tone, you didn't like his attitude, you didn't like that you didn't knew anything about him BECAUSE HE DIDN'T SHOW UP TO ANY-

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you." While trying to keep the bitterness down you started to whisper.

"What?"

As you looked up at him, your mind went blank. For the first time Satoru looked at you. With his big blue beautiful eyes, he looked at you. So mesmerizing that you almost forgot about your bitterness towards him.

Almost.

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you in any mean. We can also eat separately. In fact I would prefer that."

He snorted. "That's childish. Not even eating together."

And that broke the straw. The straw your patience was hanging on sooooo desperately.

"You." you poked his chest with force. "Can't tell me what's childish or not."

Your voice grew a bit. "You can't, not after not attending any meetings, actively trying to get away from me on our wedding day, leaving me alone for our clan people, leaving me alone for the night way to a new house I have to call home now!"

He kept silent. Like all the times you saw him.

"SO EXCUSE ME." You made your way to your room, shouting to make sure he knew what you said.

"IF I THINK MY HUSBAND DOESN'T WANT TO SEE ME AT ALL! AND IF I DON'T WANT TO HAVE MYSELF SUFFER THROUGH IT!"

You slammed the door with force.

You don't think your husband will ever even like you. Or if Gojo would ever even be your husband.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #gojo angst #arranged marriage #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk

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chuuyrr · 10 months ago

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 .ᐟ

feat: dazai, chuuya, fyodor

ꨄ˙ CW(s): gn! reader, mentions of alcohol (reader is drunk)

ꨄ˙ SYNOPSIS: in which you drink too much and don't even realize that your boyfriend is your boyfriend or you might as well be drunk in love

in the dimly lit bar, the air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. you found yourself swirling the remnants of a colorful cocktail, the room around you blurring as the night progressed.

DAZAI sits beside you, and couldn't help but notice your flushed-pink demeanor, fueled by the drinks you had consumed, and giggles to himself.

in your tipsy state, you tilt your head, looking at dazai with a playful suspicion. the room spun slightly, and you sway on your seat, trying to focus on his face.

"you know," you slur, "you're a suspicious stranger. i bet you've got some secret agenda." you point an accusing finger at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

dazai, amused by your playful accusations, couldn't help but giggle even more, "oh, do i now? well, i'm just a harmless 'stranger' who happened to find the most adorable drunk person in the entire bar."

you raise an eyebrow skeptically, still not recognizing him, "adorable, huh? well, mr. stranger-fanger, you're gonna have to prove it." you cross your arms, a challenging smirk on your flushed face.

dazai, seizing the opportunity, wraps his arms around you with a mockingly serious expression, "see? no danger here, just a guy who appreciates adorable drunks."

you broke into a fit of giggles, melting into his embrace, "well, you're not that bad for a stranger, i guess."

completely unaware that the 'stranger' was, in fact, your boyfriend, you continued to enjoy the whimsical dance of laughter and teasing, creating a memory that would undoubtedly be cherished in the days to come.

"i'm gonna be serious though, i am your boyfriend," dazai says to you.

you blink softly at him, your tipsy-drunk state had somehow lead you to look at him as such. dazai blinks back before a grin starts to tug on his lips.

"do i have to remind my dearest? well, then. buckle up because you're in for a treat!" he says before he instantly starts peppering your face in kisses as he holds you tightly.

you immediately start to squeal and giggle as you are reminded of the constant kisses that your boyfriend would give you admist the alcohol in your system.

"osamuuu!" you say in a soft whine before he pecks your lips.

dazai grins even more widely at your cute little whine as he cups your face now, "that's more like it. goodness, such an adorable drunk you are, hmm?"

CHUUYA watches with a mix of concern and amusement as your cheerful demeanor transformed into a tipsy state.

as the night wore on, chuuya decides it was time to take you home. he gently placed his gloved hand on your shoulder, trying to capture your attention, "hey, it's getting late. how about we head home?" he suggests, his voice warm and caring.

however, in your inebriated state, you misinterpreted the situation. you gasp sharply before you squirm in your seat and whine softly, "nooo, i'm having so much fun here! plus, you can't take me home! i have a boyfriend!"

chuuya was flabbergasted, but he couldn't help but chuckle at your resistance afterwards upon seeing this, "come on, baby, i'm not a stranger. i'm your boyfriend, and I just want to make sure you get home safely."

now it's you blinking softly, looking at him with a mix of confusion and innocence, "boyfriend? really?" you giggle, completely unaware of the true nature of your relationship.

"you're being so silly right now, i almost can't with you," chuuya sighs, still laughing softly, "geez, i didn't know my baby can be this forgetful with this much alcohol."

undeterred, chuuya continued to coax you gently, his amusement growing as you stare at him in awe as you begin to pat his cheeks in your warm hands, "this pretty face is all mine?"

chuuya chuckles again, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as he takes your hands in his before leaning in to press a lingering kiss on your lips and whispering, "i'm all yours, baby."

the night unfolded in a blend of laughter, warmth, and the endearing challenge of convincing you that the 'stranger' was, in fact, the person who cared for you the most, and you couldn't help but giggle even more into the kiss.

FYODOR observes your increasing intoxication with a measured gaze, a sense of concern clouding his usually composed demeanor.

as the night unfolds, you continued to enjoy the array of drinks that nikolai had generously provided you two. fyodor, recognizing the potential consequences, decided it was time to intervene. he places a hand gently on your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"dear, perhaps it's time to slow down," fyodor suggests, his voice calm and measured as he tries to get you to stop.

you looked at him with a tipsy grin, oblivious to the fact that fyodor was your boyfriend, "but nikolai is just being generous. no harm in a few more, riiight?"

fyodor's piercing gaze held a mixture of concern and determination, "i'd rather not see you regretting this tomorrow. let's enjoy the night responsibly," he insists, attempting to guide you away from the tempting allure of more drinks.

however, in your intoxicated state, you resisted his efforts, misinterpreting his intentions, "oh, come on! live a little, stranger!" you playfully tease, unaware that fyodor was the person you were romantically involved with.

fyodor couldn't help but hide a small smile at your playful antics, though he inwardly feels a twinge of sadness at being referred to as a stranger, maintained his composure.

he observes you with a subtle sadness in his eyes, a fleeting emotion that betrayed the depth of his feelings. still, he wasn't one to give up easily.

with a gentle touch, he cupped your face, making you meet his gaze, "remember, i'm the one who cares deeply for you," he murmurs with a faint smile, his eyes staring in yours.

"i may be a stranger in this particular scenario, but i am not to you," fyodor replies softly, realizing that your drunken state was proving to be a barrier. yet, he didn't relent.

the realization began to dawn on you, your intoxicated mind slowly connecting the dots, "wait a minute... you care about me? really?"

fyodor nods, his eyes holding a mixture of hope and longing, "more than you can imagine."

you blink softly, still processing the situation through the haze of alcohol. before you could react, fyodor leaned in, pressing a soft and lingering kiss against your lips. the touch was tender yet filled with an unspoken depth of emotion, an attempt to bridge the gap that had momentarily separated you.

as the kiss unfolded, a subtle warmth spread through you, and the fog of intoxication seemed to lift momentarily. the taste of familiarity mingled with the hint of sadness, creating a poignant moment that transcended the blurred boundaries of the night. fyodor then pulls away, his gaze searching yours for any signs of recognition.

there was a pause, a moment of suspended realization. slowly, your eyes widened, and a spark of recognition flickered within them. "wait," you whisper, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and clarity as you smile. "you're not a stranger, only my fedya kisses me like that!"

a soft smile tugged at the corners of fyodor's lips as the weight of being called a stranger lifted. the kiss had served as a catalyst, a bridge that connected the fragments of memory scattered in the alcohol-induced haze.

"my, my, how could you forget your fedya, dear?" fyodor sighs, shaking his head before he kisses your lips again and whispers, "traitor.."

ꨄ˙ A.N.: i feel like i might have written fyodor in an ooc-ish way, and if i did, i apologize !! haven't written for him in so long and i don't write for him as often as dazai and chuuya. this is also kinda silly i think now that i've finished writing this lol !! thank you so much for reading until the end (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

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ohproserpine · 10 months ago

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ii. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3

tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, unsettling & obsessive behavior, jealousy, possessiveness, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, unwanted advances (not by alastor), murder, graphic descriptions of injuries

As the days unfolded into weeks, Alastor remained true to his word. A routine soon formed between the two of you: he would make regular visits to the speakeasy, engage in polite conversations with Mimzy, and take his usual seat to enjoy your performance.

In time, Alastor's interactions with you grew more intimate. And one night, following the success of one of your busiest night and biggest show, he surprised you with a beautiful necklace. Pulling you into your dressing room, Alastor asked for permission to formally court you. Without hesitation, you agreed, and in a burst of affection, proceeded to kiss him within an inch of your life.

Since then, Alastor had begun to take you on dates outside the speakeasy. He whisked you away to quaint diners, lively jazz joints, and even introduced you to his mother—a sweet woman who welcomed you with open arms.

Throughout your time together, not a single one of your performances escaped Alastor'. Why would they? For him, your shows were the very essence of color in his otherwise dull and monotonous existence. His devotion to you almost mirrored religious fervor as he attended each of your shows like an impassioned disciple in the dimly lit speakeasy pews.

Your voice became a spell, luring Alastor like a foolish sailor drawn to a siren's call. In those moments, the world faded away, and he followed the melody with an irresistible pull, captivated by thoughts of you, you, you.

Only you.

Tonight, however, was anything but ordinary.

Alastor, following his usual routine, occupied his customary spot at the pub, savoring his whiskey with slow sips from his glass. However, the comforting rhythm of the night, which he had grown used to, was broken when the band screeched to a halt, the shrill notes of the violin cutting through the air. Immediately, the pub erupted in a chorus of boos and shouts.

Alastor blinked, his smile turning strained as he noticed a man stumble onto the stage. It was clear that he was intoxicated, moving about as gracefully as a headless chicken, as he made his way towards you, nearly knocking you off your feet.

Noticing the commotion, Mimzy clicked her tongue, slammed her drink onto the counter, and swiftly rose to her feet. She rushed to the stage, the glitters on her vibrant dress catching the dim lights of the speakeasy.

“Why, I oughta—" she began to seethe, as she stomped towards the stage, finger wagging in the air. “That’s the fifth time this week, Giovanni!”

"Ah, Mimzy! Jus' wanted to surprise my sweetheart," Giovanni slurred, his thick accent muddled as he clumsily leaned into you, head tucking into your neck.

Snap.

Alastor felt a visceral reaction, something within him snapping as the glass in his hand cracked under the strain of his grip. The fractured crevices dug into his skin, and golden liquor seeped out, mixing with crimson red blood.

As a regular performer at this pub, your popularity was unquestionable, and Alastor was not entirely pleased with the attention you garnered from other men. If given the opportunity, he would have you whisked away from this place. In his eyes, your voice was too lovely for a place like this. Your talent deserved a grander stage than the confines of this tacky establishment.

“Ahah,” you smiled awkwardly, shuffling away and shrugging the man's arms off of you. “Not your sweetheart, Giovanni…”

"Are you not happy to see me, carina?" Giovanni’s voice dropped to a whisper, his hand dropping to grip you by the waist. He leaned his face in closer, and you cringed. The man's breath reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were a bloodshot red. “Come on~ I came all the way to see you.”

“Ya' can go see and do whatevah the fuck you want with her after the show!” Mimzy scowled, stomping her heels onto the wooden flooring. “Can't have a moment of peace in here. Someone get him off my stage!”

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want!" Giovanni retorted, his anger bubbling over as he lashed out, kicking the microphone stand in Mimzy's direction. She barely dodged in time, the crash of the mic hitting the floor drowned out by the screeching feedback.

"Please. Just go," you pleaded, your patience wearing thin. "Why? Why do you always have to make a scene?"

"Ay, carina, don't get bratty with me. Let's talk in the back," Giovanni insisted, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he attempted to pull you off the stage. But before he could, Mimzy's guards intervened, forcefully yanking him away.

"Hey! Get ya' hands off'a me!"

Turning around, you rushed to get off the stage, but Giovanni somehow managed to break free and extended his hand, trying to grab onto you. Panic welled up within you as his hand reached out, but relief followed when he was abruptly stopped by none other than Alastor.

"Now, now," Alastor's voice had a lilt as he held onto Giovanni's wrist, but the venom woven into each word was unmistakable. His ever-present smile stretched wide, serving as a clear warning. "Causing a commotion isn't the best way to impress a lady."

"This ain't none of ya’ business. Let go’a me!" Giovanni scowled, attempting to wring his hand out of the brunette's iron grip. Alastor merely chuckled and adjusted his glasses with his free hand, the unsettling grin still playing on his lips throughout the exchange.

"This ain't none of ya’ business. Let go’a me!" Giovanni scowled, attempting to wriggle his hand out of the brunette's iron grip. Alastor merely chuckled, adjusting his glasses with his free hand, the unsettling grin still playing on his lips throughout the exchange.

"Ha ha! Kind sir, when someone disrupts a delightful performance, it becomes everyone's business," Alastor laughed, the sound of it tinged with sarcasm.

"But I must commend you. My, that impromptu performance of yours was quite remarkable; you truly made a wonderful spectacle of yourself!" Alastor's grin widened, his mocking tone drawing out laughter from the crowd.

Then, Alastor bent down to meet Giovanni face to face, his amusement fading.

“Though I think you've overstayed your welcome, no?” Alastor's grip tightened around Giovanni's wrist, the pressure leaving bruises in its wake, hues of purple, green, and blue blossoming beneath the skin.

Alastor's grin turned sharp. "You will leave. Now."

"F-Fuck are you gonna do if I don’t, aye?" Giovanni spat, attempting to maintain a façade of bravado despite the pain. He tore his hand away from Alastor's grip, cradling his wrist. "Ya' think you can tell me what to fucking do?!"

"Hmm. I would at least advise you to salvage whatever dignity you have left and leave. If you had even a dust of intelligence in that hollow head of yours, that would have been the first thing you'd have done," Alastor chuckled.

“Damn right. Ya ain't got no fuckin place in my establishment,” Mimzy scowled, snapping her fingers and gesturing towards the men surrounding Giovanni. “Take him away, boys!”

As Mimzy’s goons surrounded him again, Giovanni sneered, "This ain't over."

"Oh, my dear pal, I assure you, it is very much over. The lady has made her wishes very clear," Alastor grinned.

With a final snarl, Giovanni was forcibly led away from the scene, his protests fading into the background as Mimzy's guards escorted him out. Mimzy wasted no time, bustling backstage and barking orders to her staff to clean up and prepare the stage once more.

Alastor's charismatic facade returned as he turned to you, though a glint of irritation lingered in his eyes. "Apologies you had to see that, cher. Let's hope the rest of the evening proceeds much more smoothly."

"I hope so." With a sigh, your gaze shifted downward, and you spotted his injured hands. The glass he had broken earlier had left wounds all over his calloused palms — not deep, but enough to draw blood.

Concern etched across your face, and you gently touched Alastor's hands. The radio host, accustomed to your touch by now, allowed you to inspect the damage.

"You're hurt," you pointed out, caressing his skin.

Alastor met your gaze with a reassuring smile. "Ah, this is just a trifle. A mere inconvenience, I assure you! My, I've endured far worse during hunting, darling! This is hardly worth mentioning."

"But—" you began, only to be interrupted by his finger pushing against your red lips.

"Worry not, cher. I'll take care of it. There's no need to play nurse," he spoke with finality, as if this was a matter not open to further argument.

"Alright," You managed a small smile. "I am really sorry things turned out this way, Al. I didn't know Giovanni was going to show up again. He's always been like that for as long as I can remember. I told him to stop but he never does."

"No need for apologies. None of this fault is on you, darling. Though it does add a touch of excitement to otherwise mundane affairs, doesn't it?" Alastor chuckled heartily, though you sensed there was a bitter undertone to his laugh.

"Excitement? That man is a shitshow just waiting to happen," Mimzy returned and walked up to both of you, rolling her eyes. "And I thought I got rid of him for good..."

Suddenly, she leaned in with cosmetics in hand, deftly swiping lipstick across your lips and delicately brushing blush on your face. "Now come on, dollface, let's get you back to that stage."

You realize you're still on shift, but the thought of performing feels nearly impossible at the moment, especially with all this lingering adrenaline in your system. Admittedly, you're a bit shaken up, and all you want is to curl up by Alastor's side and savor the night with a drink in hand.

"Oh, Mimzy…I'm not sure I can really perform right now, love. I feel…" you slowly trailed off, faltering under the weight of Mimzy's hardened gaze.

The blonde cooed out your name, her fingers gently wrapping around your arm, soothingly rubbing it up and down. "Dollface, you're not here to question; you're here to perform! Alastor here has been so kind to get rid of your little problem. Now, let's get back up on that stage and do what you're good at."

"Pardon?" Alastor snapped with a raised brow, his usually jovial tone replaced by a sharper edge. "Well, I don't mind in the least. In fact, I rather enjoyed putting that simpleton in his place. I'm sure your patrons can afford to wait, can't they? This poor dear is still shaking in her heels!"

But you intervened, mustering a smile and smoothing down the wrinkles on your dress while nervously tending to your hair. "Oh no, Al, it's alright. Mimzy's right. I can't just let one man ruin my entire night."

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, taking a moment to compose before adding, "Besides, the show must go on, right?"

Alastor paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied your nervous tics. The radio host silently appraised your form for a few more seconds before eventually giving in. "Hmm, very well. If that's what you wish."

"Thank you, Al," you whispered with a smile, tilting your head up to press a kiss against his cheek. Your lipstick had left an imprint on his bronze skin, but he made no move to wipe it off.

With a chuckle, Alastor leaned back into you and returned the gesture warmly.

"I'll take care of everything, doll," he whispered, voice low, before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "He won't ever bother you again."

Confused, you blinked up at him with those bright eyes he loved so much. "How do you plan to do that, Al?" you asked, but he ignored you, staring at you with that unsettling look in his eyes again.

Alastor suddenly raised your hand to his lips, brushing the knuckles with gentle pecks, causing your mind to blank and cheeks to go aflame.

Tapping her foot impatiently, Mimzy's irritation grew as the display of affection lingered longer than she deemed appropriate. With a swift swat of her hand against the man's shoulder, she hissed at him. "That's enough outta you!"

Alastor smirked to himself and began walking back, seemingly satisfied with the subtle disturbance he had caused. He was such a bastard, but he was yours.

With a shake of your head and a smitten blush gracing your cheeks, you returned to the stage. The blinding spotlight enveloped you as Mimzy tossed the microphone back into your waiting hands.

Meanwhile, Alastor reclined in his seat at the booth, his gaze fixed intently on you as you resumed your performance. The audience, having brushed off the brief interruption, eagerly redirected their focus to you.

Rabbit, rabbit! Won't you run away? Don't give the farmer all his fun today~ He'll get by without his rabbit pie. So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run!

As you neared the end of the song, Alastor joined the crowd's applause, rhythmically snapping his fingers together.

Wonderful, as always.

Snap.

The sudden, jarring sound shattered the stillness of the forest, followed by a shrill scream that seemed to shake the trees. Giovanni's hands instinctively shot down to his ankle, where his bone had twisted in a gruesome sight that sent bile rushing to his throat. However, he had no time to inspect the damages as a rustling bush caught his attention. Desperately, the man began crawling on the ground, doing his best to move farther away, dragging mud and dirt all over his body.

"Don't give the farmer his fun. Fun. Fun," emerging from thick shrubs, Alastor sang lowly as he continued his slow advance, relishing in the fear that emanated from his prey. He raised his hand, fingers idly tracing over the red mark on your lips, and if he focused hard enough, he could still feel the burn of your affections. "He'll get by without his rabbit pie."

The dense forest around them seemed to close in, casting eerie shadows as Alastor's menacing silhouette moved closer. Giovanni, now gasping for breath, cast terrified glances over his shoulder, desperately searching for an escape route.

"So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run," Alastor continued to trail after the man, his axe slung over his strong shoulders, a sinister grin etched on his lips.

Ah, it had been so long since he last pursued larger prey, opting for smaller catches like rabbits and squirrels lately. This, however, was a different kind of pursuit, and the thrill was delicious.

“It's rather unsavory to disrupt a live performance,” Alastor mused, gripping his axe and running his bandaged palm along the side of the blade. "Oh, the misery! Each performance interrupted, a masterpiece marred!"

“Though I suppose you redeemed yourself with your own impromptu circus show,” Alastor snickered, reaching down and seizing Giovanni’s sprained ankle, dragging the screaming man back toward him.

"Good show!" The radio host grinned as he pressed his feet against Giovanni's back to prevent him from escaping. Alastor raised the axe high, the glint of the blade reflecting the crazed gleam in his eyes.

"Now, let's see how this act ends."

With a practiced swing, he brought the blade down, chunks of flesh and blood spraying onto his clothing and skin from the impact. Alastor laughed as the light gradually faded from the man's eyes, his once-struggling arms and legs now falling limp.

“What a show!”

#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor

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jockbroski34 · 7 months ago

Text

The Bro Cap

Biology was my favorite class this semester. Not only did I find science to be interesting, but I also shared the class with one of the hottest guys in the school: Aaron Moore. He was the star of the school’s baseball team as a pitcher and he was the talk of the school. Girls were always swooning over him for how tall and handsome and athletic he was. He was good at every sport; football, basketball, and so on, but in school, he played baseball. He was a major source of envy for a lot of guys. A lot of guys wished they could be him. I, however, wanted to be with him. Fortunately, I sit behind him in class, so I get the best view of him, despite being from behind. At least it meant he wouldn’t see me watching him.

I often found myself getting distracted by him. Even if I couldn’t see his face, I could see his broad shoulders, which were built like mountains, as well as his arms which were shaped like mounds of muscle. His tall stature sometimes made it hard to look at the board, not that it was the main place my eyes were looking at in the first place. His favorite baseball hat, adorned with our school team’s logo on it, was worn backwards like most of the jocks at the school. He didn’t come off like the rest of them though. His relaxed vibe made him easy to talk to and he could be quite funny compared to the rest of the meathead jocks. He got along with everyone really well, making him very well-liked. Although he was far from the smartest guy in the class, I could tell that he tried. It was no wonder why he was so popular.

Today, I was daydreaming when I was disrupted by our teacher, Mr. Martin. I felt him stare directly at me, almost as if he knew I wasn’t paying attention. It was like he could read my every thought, and honestly, if that were true, that’d be extremely humiliating. The last thing I needed was for my crush on Aaron to be exposed to the rest of the class. Knowing how embarrassing he could be, I wouldn’t put it past him. He asked me a question, and I thankfully already knew the answer, as I awakened from my daydream.

“Correct! I wasn’t sure if you were paying attention or not,” he chuckled. “You always look like you’re off in your own little world. But you still manage to do well. You gotta tell the rest of your class your secret.” Looks like someone has caught on to my tendencies. Mr. Martin was a middle-aged guy, probably in his 30s. He looked good for his age, and was a pretty relaxed and carefree teacher.

The class went by as usual, and eventually we were dismissed. All of the other students dispersed, but I needed to ask our professor a question about the homework. He helped clarify things for me thankfully. I was about to leave, but then he pointed out something on the ground.

“Hey Aiden, doesn’t Aaron sit in front of you? That’s his hat, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I always see him wear it.” It was unusual for him to have left it here by accident.

“Do you know if you can bring it to him today? If not, I can keep it here until next class.”

“I’ll hold onto it until I see him next. I have a feeling I’ll run into him later.” I don’t know why I said that. We don’t have any other classes together and we certainly aren’t close enough to be friends, even if I wished we were. I’m also not on the baseball team. Either way, my professor smiled for helping him out.

Regardless, I grabbed Aaron’s hat, but instead of chasing after him, I realized I really needed to go to the bathroom. He was probably long gone anyways. After I went, I noticed that I was still holding onto his hat. I went to observe it and I noticed that it smelled a little like him, with a mix of sweat from wearing it all day and whatever shampoo he used. I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt a sudden urge to put Aaron’s hat on. Despite the fact that I would feel really embarrassed if someone saw me wearing it, I knew I would likely never get this opportunity again. I was completely alone, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with it. It wasn’t just any hat, it was Aaron’s. It’s not like he had lice or anything. What’s the worst that could happen?

And so I put it on, wearing it backwards like he would. Strangely, for a few seconds, I felt as though time had completely stopped. The leaky sink faucet paused its rhythmic dripping. The stomping of feet in the hallway deafened. My watch skipped a tick. But as time seemed to return to its natural course, I was able to see how I looked. I had to admit, I looked really good in it. I wouldn’t call myself an unattractive guy, but Aaron was way out of my league. Despite that, a smirk appeared on my face. A wave of confidence washed over me, almost like a little bit of Aaron had rubbed off on me. Suddenly, I didn’t really feel like taking it off anymore. I wasn’t too worried about what would happen if Aaron or one of his friends saw me wearing it.

After admiring myself in the mirror for a few minutes, I realized that I was late to my next class, algebra. I had no idea I had spent so much time checking myself out. I must’ve lost track of time. As I walked to my seat, I felt like all eyes were on me for some reason. I never used to make much of an impression on most people. I was quiet and had only a couple friends. Normally, I would’ve felt a little anxious with so many people staring at me, but I didn’t really give a shit now.

“Late as always, aren’t we Aiden?” the teacher remarked. Very funny. I always showed up on time. I sat down in my seat, but it didn’t feel right. My body squeezed tight into the desk. I felt like I was sitting in a chair meant for a middle schooler. Weird. Something weird is going on, but I can’t figure out what it is.

The class was just as weird because I felt like my classmates were a little more talkative. I couldn’t focus during class due to being distracted by someone whispering. I still felt a couple of their eyes on me. I looked over and made brief eye contact with one of the girls on the far side of the room. She immediately looked away and giggled towards one of her friends. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color of passion. She was cute, but definitely out of my league. I wasn’t straight either way, so I didn’t care if she was into me.

Normally, I was good at math, even if I didn’t like it, but I felt myself struggling to answer questions today. Something must be wrong. The room felt hotter than usual, and I felt myself sweat a little and my body started to ache. I noticed that I smelled a little like Aaron’s cologne. I’ve recognized his scent from sitting behind him, but for that smell to linger and for me to smell like him is really weird.

Class was dismissed, and this was usually when I went to lunch. I received a text from one of my friends, Bryan, from half an hour earlier.

Bryan: Hey, me and the guys are getting food. Wanna come with?

Normally, we always got lunch at the same time. But for some reason, I didn’t really want to? That’s weird for me. I felt my fingers move on my own as they typed out a message.

Me: nah bro i dont feel like it mayb sum other time dude

I didn’t text like that normally. Nor did I turn down my friends. Is it the…Before I could finish my thought, I was interrupted by the booming sound of two guys further down the hall, with one of them calling my name. They were two jocks. I recognized that they were both friends with Aaron because they hung out together a lot. What did they want? I didn’t really get along well with either of them or the rest of their kind. Hopefully they didn’t think I was a pervert for wearing Aaron’s hat and beat me up.

“Sup bro, we were just about to get some food before hitting the gym. Wanna come with?” the other jock asked me. Judging from his tone, he seemed surprisingly friendly with me.

Were they serious? Did these jocks actually think I was one of them? I would never get an opportunity to hang out with them again, so I agreed. Part of me felt guilty for ditching my nerdy friends to hang out with the jocks, but I knew they were cool guys. My perspective on these two big jocks changed as I walked with them. For some reason, I felt a strong sense of camaraderie with them, almost like I’ve known them for a long time. I’m not sure why I was so intimidated by them before. They were really chill.

I saw another one of my friends as I walked with my new friends. I waved to him, but he barely seemed to notice me. Was he mad at me for skipping lunch with them or did he seriously not recognize me since I was hanging out with the jocks? It almost felt like he didn’t know me at all.

I pulled out my phone to see what was up with him, until I realized that Bryan had finally responded to me.

Bryan: My bad. Thought you were someone else. He must’ve given me the wrong number.

Was this some kind of prank? He obviously knew my number. Of course he knows who I am. Whatever, I don’t care what a nerd like him thinks. I put my phone away and resumed chatting with my jock friends. You know, my real friends. I noticed as I walked with them that they didn’t look as big and menacing as they seemed. Either that or maybe I hit my growth spurt recently.

We went and got food, with the jocks making sure I got enough protein. I swear I almost never eat this much. The jocks must eat a lot to stay in shape, I thought to myself. But did they seriously want me to go to the gym with them? I had class soon. But these guys were cool and I didn’t want to disappoint my bros. I figured I could miss a day and go lift with them. As long as it doesn’t turn into a habit.

I realized as we stepped into the gym that I had never worked out before nor had I stepped into an actual gym. I was worried about coming across as weak and humiliating myself in front of them. I changed into some clothes that I'm not really sure when I bought, a tank top and gym shorts. To my surprise, I simply followed the motions of my bros and I was able to work out with them just fine. I noticed that I was able to keep up with their workouts, and I surprised myself with how much I could lift. It shouldn’t have been possible to lift as much as they did but maybe they were just going easy on me because they knew I was a beginner. By the time we finished, I was just in time for my last class. But just before I parted ways with my new friends, one of them said something that caught me off guard.

“Later, Moore.”

Must’ve been a slip of the tongue. There was no way in hell they mistook me for Aaron. At least it gave me a mental reminder to give Aaron his hat back next time I see him. Although…his hat is so nice that I’m a little tempted to keep it for myself. He could always just get another one, right? I just don’t want him to see me wearing it though, so I’ll only do it when he’s not around.

In class, everyone was still staring at me as if I went to school in my underwear. Maybe there was something weird about me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I did smell a little bit since I came from my workout, but I don’t think it was that. I shrugged it off. They can stare all they want for all I care. I felt incredibly sore after my workout, and my arms looked unnaturally swollen. If I had to be honest, I almost felt as big as the two jocks I worked out with. But in such a short amount of time? With no prior lifting experience? That was impossible.

I found myself completely zoned out and indifferent to class today. All I wanted to do was leave and uh…What was it that I had going on later? I pondered that thought throughout the entire class period. Eventually, we were dismissed and I was free to leave. I was walking towards the dorms until I ran into, guess who? Aaron Moore.

“Hey bro, you still coming to practice?” he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah, baseball practice, you big dummy! You know, you’re always so forgetful, dude. Good thing I always was the smarter one, bro.”

“Yeah, you’re right, bro. My bad.” I’m not sure which statement I was agreeing with. But as I looked at him, I realized something. He was wearing his hat! But then how was I wearing his hat if he was wearing it? “I thought you lost your hat. How are you wearing it?”

“I was wearing my hat all day, dude. One day you decided to copy me and wear your hat to school like I do. But honestly, I think you rock it better than I do, so keep it up. You’ll impress the ladies.” But I was gay. And I’ve only had this hat for a day. If it wasn’t his, then how was it actually mine? I was overwhelmed and full of questions after everything that had happened today, from my growth spurt, to me hanging out with the jocks, to my old friends barely knowing who I am, but I didn’t seem to have the brain power at the moment to seek the answers to them.

As we walked, I kept chatting with Aaron as if it was natural, as if we always knew each other. Something felt off, but I couldn’t figure it out. Was it because we were going to practice? I’ve never played baseball in my life. Nah, that can’t be right. I feel like I’ve swung a bat before… We went into the locker room to change. I looked in the mirror and paused for a second.

My reflection wasn’t there. Someone else’s was. Someone much stronger and much taller than me. That wasn’t me. It was Aaron Moore.

No, except it wasn’t an exact match. There was enough different about the guy in front of me to know that it wasn’t Aaron. This figure was a little stronger than him, and still stood probably a little over 6 feet tall. I walked closer. “Aaron” walked closer. I moved my hand to feel my face. So did “Aaron”. A dull, confused look appeared on his face. Had I really become him? But Aaron was over on the other end of the room changing. Then who am I? Was I like this since I put the hat on earlier? I reached into my wallet and pulled out my ID.

Aiden Moore...That’s not my last name. That’s…Aaron’s? Normally I wouldn’t have minded taking his last name, but we definitely WEREN’T married. As far as I knew, Aaron was as straight as an arrow.

Date of Birth: 08/17/2003…If I recall, that’s Aaron’s birthday. I knew my birthday, and it was in January. Don’t tell me…Are we…?

I compared the face in the ID to the one in the mirror. It wasn’t an illusion, and it wasn’t a dream. It was like I was his twin! Aaron was an only child though and I only had sisters. At this point, I was so confused and overwhelmed. Panic was the only emotion I could feel as I felt like I was going through an identity crisis. I realized that this all started when I wore his hat. I reached to grab it off of my head…until I felt a hand touch my shoulder. My bro…I mean Aaron.

“Admiring yourself in the mirror, bro? Yeah, you’re a pretty handsome dude just like me. I think it runs in the blood, you know. You like that, right?” He placed his other hand on my head, pushing the hat tighter on my head. I nodded. I proceeded to flex, as I became self-absorbed with my own reflection. I always thought rather highly of myself, especially about my body. At this point, I couldn’t comprehend the paradox of me somehow being his own non-existent twin brother.

“You know, not every guy is lucky enough to have a cool brother like I do, let alone a twin. The two of us can play ball together, work out together, and even get all the chicks we want together. This is all you ever wanted, right?” He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but I wanted to be “with” Aaron, not be him. Whoever granted me this wish got it all wrong. But as I listened to him, I started to realize that maybe it wasn’t my wish to begin with.

“Yeah bro. This shit’s the life, dude.” I noticed Aaron’s face light up as I said that. The way I talked sounded like it came out of the mouth of some dudebro. I noticed his irresistible smirk that was always on his face when he was in a good mood. As I kept admiring myself in the mirror, I felt my mind slow…down...like it was on autopilot…

“That’s right…Just let it happen… I know it’s been a while, so it’s okay if you don’t remember, but you know that one trophy we won a couple years back? During senior year?”

“Fuck yeah, bro. I remember.” But I’ve never played baseball before…But…I have right? I know I have.

“You know you were the reason we won, right? One lucky hit in the bottom of the ninth, and you practically won us the game. I’ve never been more proud of you bro.” Aaron patted me on the back. I remembered that game fondly, even though I should have no recollection of it. That year, our baseball team was the best in the state. And I…led our team to a championship? As much as I tried to deny it in my head, the memories felt real. But why was he reminding me of this now?

“You didn’t do half bad yourself, bro.”

As Aaron and I kept chatting, the memories of being his twin brother kept flowing into my brain, as memories of my former life faded away. Turns out that I was the brother he never had. We were a pair. We complemented each other perfectly. I was actually the twin brother of the most popular guy in the school. I remember I thought he was hot…wait, what the fuck, bro? That’s gay as shit. And weird. This was my own twin we were talking about. Although I guess if I was a handsome stud, then he’d have to be too. After all, no girl can resist either one of us.

“So the hat is working…” Aaron whispered under his breath.

“What hat?”

“Nothing, bro! I was just saying how good your hat looks on you. Come on, let’s go.” I followed him, as my transformation was now complete.

From this day on, I was Aiden Moore, Aaron Moore’s twin brother. Except that’s who I was technically born as and that's who everyone already knew me as. Although we had a lot in common, I definitely felt more like a stereotypical jock. I was loud, cocky, and masculine, almost to the point of brutishness, compared to my brother who was a lot more laid-back and charismatic. Not that it was a bad thing, although most nerds and weaker men would disagree. But what me and Aaron did have in common was playing sports, working out, fucking chicks, and being the most popular guys in the school. I know I wanted to be closer to Aaron, but I never expected this. But at the same time, it felt good, almost pleasurable at times. I realized that in my new state, I could hardly last a day without an orgasm, whether it was in my grip or in some bitch’s pussy.

Two days later, I had biology again. I remembered I kinda struggled with this class. I sat behind my bro as usual. I was grateful for him since he always helped me with the homework. I noticed him talking to the professor in private when we got to class. When I asked him, he wouldn’t say. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from me. We practically knew everything about each other after all. After class, I was called to stay after by Mr. Martin.

“Aiden Moore…Your brother told me to check up on you. Is everything alright? Did you need any guidance on the homework, too?”

“Never felt better, bro. I think I was just up too late partying the other day. And nah, I eventually figured it out, dude.” I conveniently hid the fact that I copied the answers off of some nerd.

“Good, good.” Mr. Martin smiled. “I won’t leave you too long. I know you two have your hands full with practice today. Hmmm…Still wearing that hat, I see. It suits you well, Aiden.” I saw him write something down in a notebook as I left. Mr. Martin was always cool. I felt like he understood me and my brother better than most teachers here. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for him, but for what? I quickly discarded that thought because it wasn’t important to me.

What was important to me was hitting the gym with my bros. I ditched class again, I don’t even remember what the class was anyways. Probably nothing important. As long as I pass and get to stay on the team, I couldn’t care less about how badly I do in school. I’m basically only here because I got some fancy scholarship.

At the gym, I always pushed myself to lift the heaviest weights. All of my bros were impressed with how much I could lift. Must run in the blood. After school, I went to practice with Aaron. We shared a room at the dorms, and on the weekends, we always went to the biggest parties our school had to offer. We always bragged to each other about what girls we slept with that night, almost like it was a competition. Man, this was the life. I never felt like I understood Aaron on a personal level until recently, but man, we were the luckiest pair of brothers in the school.

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monzamash · 2 months ago

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wouldn't dream of it lando norris x reader rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language, angst) requested by anon for monzamusings ✨

“What are you doing here, Lando?”

“I just needed to see you.”

Things had been good with Lando. You’d started dating a couple of months ago after being set up by a mutual friend who swore up and down that you were made for each other. And she was right for a time, over winter break when life was easy, no real responsibility or commitment needed to keep whatever it was between the two of you simmering away.

Fuelled by passion and lust with a dash of attachment. He was at your place every night nearly, besides Christmas day when you both agreed taking time away from family for a hook up was absurd. He was back in your bed the day after Boxing day, and working you over until New Years Eve, just the two of you tangled up in the sheets, closed off from the rest.

But then you flew to Monaco to see his world. Big mistake.

It felt enormous. The constant attention and the anxiety, knowing that fans were sneakily taking photos at every opportunity, which always ended up on the silly gossip pages. And they were silly to begin with, salaciously lying about who you were and what you and Lando were until it got under you skin. Stomach churning.

There seemed to be a direct line of online hate funnelled your way and at first you promised Lando you could stomach it, until you couldn’t. It didn’t take long until reality seeped in, cold and harsh, tarnishing something that was so beautiful. It wasn't labelled but it could be in time, if his life was different – if he was a different person.

Lando could feel you slipping away so he tried to bring you into his weird and wonderful world, to show you that it wasn’t so scary. But the more he introduced you to his "racing friends" and explained what a "paddock walk" was, the further you retreated and you knew a line needed to be drawn in the sand. Before it was too late.

Before it was too hard to let him go.

It was callous in retrospect – a handwritten note left on his kitchen counter and slipping into an uber to Nice in the dead of the night. Cruel, really but necessary, you lied to yourself. Lando wanted to be surprised, he did. But everything you had written was true, he knew deep down that his life was fucking stressful, he didn't need reminding or how harsh people could be about the women involved with him and if it were anyone else, he would've slipped the letter in the rubbish bin and moved on.

But you were worth fighting for. And so here he was, on your doorstep in Shoreditch at 11pm on a Tuesday. It’s a wonder you answered the door but maybe there was a part of you that hoped it was him. Glassy eyed and dishevelled from the flight.

“I got your voicemails, I know where you stand but it doesn’t change anything.”

“Why didn’t you call me back?” Lando asked, the crease in his brow permanently furrowed in confusion.

“Because everything I needed to say was in the letter.”

“What? This letter?” He scoffed, slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out the piece of paper he had been carrying since the day you left. Battered and torn.

“All this tells me is that you’re scared to let me in and fine! I get that but if theres even a tiny part of you that wants me –wants us to try and make it work, then tell me because I want this…” Lando stepped forward, making his intentions clear.

“I want you.”

“It’s not that simple,” You sighed, hands instinctively reaching for him as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you both inside.

You wanted him more than anything.

“I know it’s not, baby,” He whispered back while you pushed the jacket he was wearing from his shoulders, “But we’re so good together… God, you’re beautiful.”

Lando took a second to bathe in your beauty before tangling you in a fierce kiss, one that had you clutching his shirt even harder, dragging his pliant body towards your bedroom. He knew the way – every wall you came into contact with bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your bed, needy kisses between sharp inhales of breath.

“I missed you so much, Lan.”

“Fuck, I’ve missed you more.” Lando whimpered as he hovered above and nestled himself between your thighs, hands roaming every inch of skin presented to him.

The need to have him was bubbling over as you took him in your hand and guided him to where you needed, eyes squeezed shut as he fell forward, trembling arms holding up his aching body, “That’s so fucking good, baby – ugh, so tight f’me.”

You moaned in response as Lando slowly rocked forward, grappling with the surge of pleasure rushing to your core and the relief washing from your limbs. He was your missing puzzle piece and everything else was background noise, dulled when you had him like this – whimpering and moaning sweet nothings in your ear. Silver chains tangled between you as he pressed his greedy lips to your chest, leaving small bites as a reminder of his adoration and desire.

“I need you, you know?” Lando purred into your ear as you held him close, fingers sprawled across his perspiring back as he fucked you deep, “These last couple of weeks have been hell without you… hated waking up alone and not having you beside me… not being able to hear your voice… I'm down so fucking bad.”

His soft voice was breaking as the first droplets fell to your neck, “I know what it’s like now to lose you and I won’t ever take you for granted, I swear on my life…”

Lando's sobs were quick to wrack his chest as you pulled him down, taking his full body weight in your embrace. He couldn't help but succumb to the emotions that had bottled up and finally spilled, every single worry dissipating as you held him close and soothed his tears with a soft hum.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby – I’m here…” You cooed, brushing your fingers through his tousled curls and trying your hardest to keep it together. But you could feel the welling in your eyes, heartbroken for the man in your arms and the pain you had caused, no matter how much you believed you had done the right thing at the time.

“I know you’ve been dealing with so much and I never wanted to walk away – I just… I didn’t know what to do because I could feel myself falling for you but what I was too stupid to realise was that I was already in love with you – I think I have been since the moment we met…”

Lando craned his neck, just enough to catch a glimpse of your beautiful eyes boring into his own – sincerity in every fleck. A small smile stretched across his face as he rested his forehead on yours, “I’m in love with you too. Have been since day one.”

The smiles on your faces couldn’t have been any wider as Lando pressed a slow, sweet kiss to your pouting lips. You couldn’t help but giggle as he nuzzled into your neck, pressing kiss after kiss on your sensitive skin.

“You loooove me,” He sang, tickling your ribs with his eager hands before flipping onto his back and pulling you on top.

“Oh, so I’m finishing us off, am I?”

“Yeah, I’m tired from the crying,” He shrugged and clutched your hips, playfully rutting them against his own. The moan that fell from your throat betrayed your mind, body and soul and Lando simply smirked, forever pleased with the effect he had on you.

“If you weren’t so sexy I would leave you like this,” You teased back, rolling back and forth, edging both of you like a woman on a mission.

“Please don’t ever leave me again,” Lando moaned, gripping tighter with every tantalising movement.

You shook your head and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his flushed cheek, “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

a/n – did i keep it under 1k words? of course not lol but hope you enjoyed x more f1 writing awaits ...

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #monzamusings ✨#monzamashmasterlist #f1 blurbs #lando norris x you

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spider-stark · 8 months ago

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INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place.

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange.

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown.

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter.

Or, at least, none that mattered.

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do.

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play.

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift.

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether.

And Peter never even asked why.

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?”

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.”

And how true that must have been.

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too.

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night?

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.”

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?!

“Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?”

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.”

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter.

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.”

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.”

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter.

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.”

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used.

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar.

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite.

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now.

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?”

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.”

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too.

“Did he?”

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.”

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's.

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him.

“Well did he have anything useful?”

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter.

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups.

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0.

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration.

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear.

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?”

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation.

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.”

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite.

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?”

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.”

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?”

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch.

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?”

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him.

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.”

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.”

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.”

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth.

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.”

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?”

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?”

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.”

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now!

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-”

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!”

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.”

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded.

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere.

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now.

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down…

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.”

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell.

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered.

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night?

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.”

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips.

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world.

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all.

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone.

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting.

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway.

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!”

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!”

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else.

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?”

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?”

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.”

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse.

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully.

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter.

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!”

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.”

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?”

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task.

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway.

“Mj happened.”

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.”

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.”

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease.

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth.

You sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.”

His brow snapped up. “What changed?”

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours.

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth.

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?”

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance.

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.”

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-”

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.”

“I’m not pretending-”

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.”

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.”

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest.

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.”

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?”

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

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