#re: thirst ask

[sleepingdeath-light]

so *taps mic* which cookies do u think are the loudest in bed

In no particular order:

Shadow Milk

Hollyberry

Agent Olive

Fire Spirit

Lychee

Pitaya

Shining Glitter

Clotted Cream (specifically when bottoming)

Bassist (specifically when receiving oral)

Burning Spice

Capsaicin

Stormbringer

Licorice

Gold Citrine

That’s all I can think of for now — but this is by no means a complete list lmao

[irritablepoe]

Ever so often I want to drown in poetry, just bury myself in it, though oftentimes I have no idea where to start sadly..

[spinebuster]

It isn't drama, buuuuuut I can come in and say some wild shit about Paul Heyman if that's a topic worth discussing

it’s not, thank you for playing though

[almadelsur]

💋 The Turmoil One Suffers

summary: In the second installment of The Secrets One Keeps, a relaxing day on the pogue proves to be anything but, with your inner struggles getting the better of you and JJ hot on your tail.

jj maybank x reader, rafe cameron x reader

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, talks of suffocation ig? plz let me know if I've missed anything.

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering I first wrote this like 3 years ago. Also, for those asking, I won't be doing a taglist for this fic bc I'm lazy and technologically deficient.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

You shouldn’t have been smoking, it made you feel uneasy, paranoid even.

You had found yourself on the pogue in the wake of Pope’s incessant bitching about how you had to make up for ditching them last night. The guilt had made you cave in. As he spoke, all that had flashed through your head was images of Rafe. You on top of Rafe, Rafe with his hands around your neck, the way Rafe’s hair felt between your fingers as you gripped on it when he got messy between your-

“Dude” Sarah’s voice snapped you out of your recurring thoughts.

You turned your head to her as you took a drag of the blunt JJ had rolled, "hmm?"

“I asked if you wanted a beer?”

You checked the time on your phone, 12pm. After enduring 3 hours on this floating nightmare, you decide you're probably deserving of one.

“uh yeah sure.” You took another hit, extending your arm to grab the cold bottle.

You bought the edge of the glass bottle up to your lips and took a swig, letting the liquid wash over your cotton mouth. A swig swiftly turning into a gulp as thirst suddenly became itself known to you. One gulp then turned to two and before you knew it the bottle dried out.

JJ eyed your every move, the feeling that had been bugging him since you got into the Twinkie that morning had now grown into full-blown concern. Your unusual behaviour was deafening with the sounds of alarm bells.

“Thirsty?” He spoke with furrowed brows, prompting Pope to chuckle though no joke had been intended.

Your eyes flickered towards JJ momentarily and instantly you knew what he was  thinking. Anger disguised as adrenaline coursed through you.

“Sarah will you pass me another? Mines empty.” Defiance clear in your tone, causing a thick tension to settle over the boat.

“'s a bit it early to start chugging drinks isn’t it?” JJ speaks up again before Sarah has time to respond.

You scoffed as you turned to him once more, maintaining eye contact as you took a long drag from blunt. As you exhaled the smoke, the thick white cloud blurred his features.

“Sarah” you tried again.

You hear a small sigh as she hands you another bottle.

“Thank you” You took another swig at the bottle, hoping the liquid would force down the concoction of guilt and anger that swirled in your mouth.

“So like am I saying words out loud or is it just in my head?” JJ tried, at this point he just wanted a reaction out of you.

“You asked me to come here.” Your tone was snippy, as another burst of smoke entered your system.

“well my mistake clearly.” He was getting pissed off now, and you couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction it gave you. You knew it was unfair, he hadn’t done anything wrong, you just couldn’t help it.

Pope cleared his throat. “This is a whole lotta tension for such a little boat.” He tried to lighten the mood but his joke fell flat.

As you downed your second beer, you took another drag. “It is isn’t it?” You turned to him.

“Maybe you should have some of this JJ, it’ll help you relax.” You threw the blunt in his direction, letting it fall at his feet.

“What the hell crawled up your ass today?” JJ spat at you, picking up the blunt.

The mixture of alcohol and weed infected your system, your breathing became staggered as you suddenly became hyper aware of the layers clinging onto your body.

You don't answer. Instead choosing to stand up and remove your T-shirt. Rafe returned to your mind as you focused on the image of him mimicking your same actions. Your trousers were next to go. You pushed them down whilst picturing Rafe’s hands running down your legs.

Pope eyed Sarah and JJ who’s gaze were trained on you and your movements.

“Whatcha doing there bud?” Sarah asked watching you strip down to your underwear.

“I’m too hot” was all you said, stepping off the edge of the boat and letting yourself plunge into the cool water below you.

As you became completely submerged, you breathed out all of the air in your irritated lungs. Leaving you empty and heavy as you continued to sink. The muffled noises of the water hit against your head yet all you could hear was your thoughts racing. 

As the need for air increased, the rush of thought slowed. You liked it. The weightlessness of your body, mixed with the numbing of all of your senses was peacefull. A welcome change from the overdrive your body had been running on for the past year. 

You forced yourself to stay down there, pushing your physical boundaries. A split second before completely losing consiousness you emerged again, letting the air penetrate through your system and invade your insides as it worked to reboot your muscles before giving life again to the internal mayhem in your mind again. 

You floated with your head above the surface and your back facing the pogues. You couldn’t find yourself to act remotely interested in what they thought about your little show. 

JJ in turn felt as though he was slowly loosing his head. He felt dumbfounded because it wasn’t just your behaviour that was different, your entire demeanour and vibe was off and he failed to comprehend what could have happened in the span of 12 hours for you to return to him a complete different person. 

Sarah could see the way he looked at you, he was hot on your tail and she panicked trying to divert his calculating eyes from you. “So” she spoke up loud enough so that you could hear and be part of the conversation should you wish to. “Theres a party at my house tonight.”

“Oh really?” JJ answered, evidently uninterested as he continued his stare down with the back of your head. 

“Yeah Ward’s out of town with Rose and y'know Rafe, any opportunity he has to get shitfaced he’ll take it.” Relief washed over her as JJ’s eyes finally unglued from you. 

At the mention of Rafe your ears perked up. 

“Do you guys wanna come?” A devilish grin on her face evident as she spoke. 

“A kook party? We wouldn't be welcome.” Pope answered for the three of you, prompting a scoff from Sarah. 

“It’s my house too, plus I already threatened Rafe to let me invite you guys. I told him I’d snitch on him otherwise.” She shrugged.

“I’m sure he loved that” JJ added, amused at the thought of antagonising the Cameron boy. 

“Well what did he say?” Three pairs of eyes turned to you as you finally spoke up from the water, now facing the boat again. 

JJ couldnt help the face that your question caused him to pull. Why did you suddenly care about what Rafe Cameron had to say? Sarah already said they could go so why did it even matter? 

“He said whatever as long we stay away from him.” Her answer caused Pope and JJ to roll their eyes. It had been somewhat of a lie though. 

Because what Rafe had really said when Sarah had threatened him was, “whatever just stay away from us, and why don't you go ahead and bring that sexy little friend of yours.” 

To which Sarah had replied with, “We wouldn’t want to hang out with you and your classist friends anyway. Also, Kiara’s with JJ, and Y/N wouldn’t even touch you with a 10 foot pole so.” Unkowing of the situation between you and Rafe.

Looking back at it now, Rafe’s coy response of “we’ll see” suddenly made much more sense to her as she shuddered slightly in disgust. 

“Can’t we take a night off? I mean don’t you guys think we’ve been going a little extra hard recently?” Pope tried to reason as you swam back up towards the boat, forcing yourself on board again. 

“I’ll be there.” You interjected as the water ran down your body, soaking the deck of the hms. 

“we all will be.” JJ fired back, a confusing swirl of concern and anger towards your attitude fought for dominance within his head. 

You ignored him once more and lay back on the sodden deck, letting your persistant introspection rest as the blanket that was intoxication comforted you. You looked up at the clouds and the weighlessness returned. Before you knew it, he sounds of Pope and Sarah chatting drifted away with the soft waves that carried the boat. You lost grip on consciousness as the sun lulled you to sleep.

Around half an hour went by before JJ spoke up. “hey" he double checked you were definitely asleep.

He took your silence as confirmation before turning to the other two. “Y'all saw that right?”

“Saw what?” Sarah played dumb even though he she knew exactly what he was referring to.

“the way she was acting” He whisper shouted, confused as to why no one else seemed remotely worried. “It was like she hated us.” He spoke with the tone of a wounded man.

“Yeah… us.” Pope muttered under his breath.

“I think she’s just tired J, she uh- she had a long night.” Sarah stiffled what had been something between a laugh and a groan.

“Nah guys look- I know her, that wasn’t normal.” JJ didn’t ease up.

“We all know her.” Pope jumped on the defensive.

“c’mon dude it’s not just me, somethings obviously wrong”

At this point Sarah wished for anything to distract him, because as much as JJ wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to academic performance, he most certainly wasn’t dumb. And he definitely knew what he was talking about when it came to you.

“Maybe It’s.. you know..” Pope waggled his eyebrows. “Her time…” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck “of- of the month?”

“Nice Pope.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“’s not that. Guys look listen to me somethings definitely wr-“ the ringing of his phone interrupted JJ mid sentence. Saved by the bell. Literally.

JJ grabbed his phone and his frown eased up slightly as he looked at the caller ID.

“Hey baby” his tone made it seem like whatever he had been worrying about softened it’s grip on him at the sound of her voice. “Uh huh, okay give us ten and we’ll be there.” He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Kie?” Sarah asked, praying he wouldn’t resume his ramble.

“Yeah she’s finished up at the wreck, wants us to go get her.” And with that the subject was dropped.

—————————————————————————

The late afternoon breeze stroked you awake as you suddenly became aware of the voices around you.

Your eyes fluttered open and you stirred where you lay, your body stiff from the 4 hour positioning against the hard wood of the hms. You slowly sat yourself up and threw your T-shirt back on your body before turning back to glance at the now complete group of pogues. Fuck how long had you been out for.

You let your eyes linger on Kiara and JJ a couple of seconds longer than everybody else. He laughed carelessly pulling her tighter against his side. You groaned out quietly and reached for your phone, typing out that damned name.

To Rafe: Having a party and you didn’t invite me? I’m almost offended.

Almost instantly a reply came through.

Miss me already?

You rolled your eyes as he sent you another.

Figured Sarah would open her big mouth, better see you tonight ;)

“Morning Camper.” John B spoke up. You turned around to face him, every single one of them with their attention on you.

“Hey can you take me home?” You directed at no one in particular.

“You don’t wanna stay and hang out?” Kie asked, she wanted to reach you, connect with you.

“I just want to go home” You were irritated and your head hurt, you were certainly in no mood for any of this.

John B was next to try “C’mon man we haven’t all hung out like this in ag-“

“Fuck just take me home” You lashed out. “please” You added in an attempt to soften the blow.

Silence fell over the pogues as John B lifted himself up and steered the boat towards the direction of your house.

As you hopped down you muttered a joyless goodbye to everyone.

“Wait! I’ll walk you in.” JJ peeled himself away from Kiara and followed behind you, slightly speeding as you hadn’t bothered to stop and wait.

He walked beside you, waiting until you were both out of hearing distance from the others.

“why are you angry?” He spoke up.

“I’m not angry.” You tried to walk faster but a calloused hand stopped you.

“Stop. Just stop.” You heard the desperation in his voice as he turned you around to face him. “can you just talk to me? Look whatever I did to piss you off I’m sorry. You just- you were fine yesterday and now all of a sudden you hate us-“

“Stop JJ” You just wanted it to stop. The consequence of your actions pounding down on you with every word that left his mouth.

“Stop what?!” He couldn’t help but shake you.

“Talking! Stop talking!” You shoved him forcefully off of you.

“The hell's wrong with you?! dude I’m worried about you. Today’s just been so weird.” His fingers shoved themselves through his hair, a nervous habit of his.

The familiar lump in your throat began to form at the sight of your best friend.

“I’m tired J.” It wasn’t a lie, you really were fucking exhausted. You were tired of lying, tired of watching the boy you loved love someone else, tired of trudging through your life heartbroken.

“You’re lying.” He shook his head like a disappointed parent. “Why you lyin' to me?”

“JJ. I’m. Tired.” You screwed your eyes shut as your breathing began to quicken “I’m not lying I’m just-“

“Okay alright.”  His embrace cut you off. “I believe you.” He hated seeing you upset. Having known you practically his whole life, he also knew that nothing ever got resolved when you got like this, so he dropped the subject.

You almost broke down then and there, using everything you had in you to move your arms around him, hugging him back.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, the meaning behind your words far greater than he could realise.

“Hey it’s okay, we all have off days right?” He let go of you and gave you a small smile.

“Right.” Your remained court and quiet. 

“I’ll see you tonight. Go rest for a bit okay?”

You nodded and began to walk away before his voice stopped you once more.

“Yo” You turned to see that he had shoved his hands in pockets. “You’d tell me if something was wrong right?” He hated that he even had to ask.

“Mhm, course” You lied straight through your teeth before turning and walking away from him uninterrupted. You knew that as soon and as your bedroom door closed behind you, you’d sink down into a pit of despair and loathing.

Whilst the resolution had given him a little comfort, something deep inside told him that this wasn’t the end of it.

Perhaps he should have left things alone, maybe then things wouldn’t have escalated to extent that they were about to.

So as he watched you walk away, JJ stood there unknowing of what was to come. Unknowing of the way things were about to change between you forever.

[bbybluemochi]

can you drop sinner’s lore or just more information about this oc?👀 you probably already wrote about this somewhere, but I can't find it(

No, I haven't posted much about her story (or any OC story) anywhere. With my original characters I tend to take a very relaxed approach; they're something I draw for fun, and their stories/personalities are revealed to me slowly, almost as if I'm getting to know them rather than creating them. That's why their story is subject to constant change, and I'm reluctant to post about them outside of my irl circle, because what if I change my mind about something, yk?

I recently found these two moodboards I made a long time ago of Sinner and Frankie from my Band AU, so I'm leaving them here! (more about sinner below↴)

For Sinner in particular, I was heavily inspired by 80s music (glam rock, hair metal, heavy metal, etc.). Each of my fictional band members is based on different musical genres, depending on what kind of music I'm obsessed with at the time. The 5 band members are at different stages of the design process (Frankie, Sinner, and the drummer (who doesn't have a name yet!) are the ones I finished; the leader and singer are still in the works).

It's taking me a while because I want to give them all a personal/distinctive aesthetic, but also keep their designs somewhat consistent - I want them to look like they could be in a band together (and in the same decade!) while being inspired by different eras and genres ranging from 70s rock to 90s britpop, and it's hard! That's why it's taking me so long to finish the whole band.

Sinner in particular has become my muse, the character I draw when I'm feeling burntout or just want to doodle. My friends and I always joke that she has orange cat energy (chaotic, not the brightest person in the room, but we love her for it). She loves dad jokes, beer, her bandmates, the rock n roll lifestyle, the road. She has a reputation for being a “player,” spending every night with a different girl (something that will make her entire relationship with Frankie a mess, as no one expects her to catch feelings or commit to a serious relationship). Big heart, laid back attitude, a thirst for adventure. Terrific guitar playing skills. Lives for the music!!!!

I love her so much and I feel like I’m doing her a disservice by describing her this way, because there’s so much more to her personality, but I wouldn’t know where to start! I’ve spent so much time thinking about her and imagining different scenarios with her and the rest of the band that summing up her entire personality in one post seems impossible! Maybe I’ll do an OC Q&A in the future so you can ask her directly :D

(re: the moodboards. I want to clarify that the musicians featured on the moodboards are there for aesthetic inspiration, and my characters are in no way inspired by their personalities or personal lives! I don't condone anything a man from the 80s has ever done/, and neither do I share their political views. Just wanted to say that before anyone takes it the wrong way! I'm just stealing their gender bc 80s men fashion is so lesbian coded to me.)

[kaisentine]

imagine rin snitching on you to sae about your little crush on him.

“…that was 11 years ago, sae.”

“you wanna watch big bro again?” the black-haired boy groans out in annoyance. “uh-huh!” you gleam out while smiling—flashing him with your braced teeth. you’ve been asking rin that question a lot recently and it’s starting to irk him a little bit. he isn’t stupid, he can put two and two together to compose a theory about you having something a little more than friendly feelings for his sibling. however, he can’t deny the fact that he does want to see his brother play too. that’s what brings you to the neighborhood’s field to watch the muddy-red-head kick around some stupid ball. it looks like sae didn’t seem to care about the two pairs of eyes watching him—it makes you question whether he even remembers rin shouting to him 30 minutes prior. “girl, you don’t even like soccer.” he deadpans next to you with this hands shoved into his jacket’s pockets—that is a very true statement—and the fact you don’t know anything about the sport other than playing against other people to shoot a ball into a goal. you stay silent to contemplate the answer (you’re lowkey just distracted by the way sae moves are so languid). “hey, i watch you play too!” you retort, suppressing the urge to punch his shoulder. “that’s because i ask you to,” so he’s doubling down and admitting he actually forces you to watch him play? “but last time i checked, i don’t see big bro asking you.” he finishes before sticking his popsicle back into his mouth. there’s no arguing with that so you don’t respond any further.

rin is very observant—he can tell your body stiffens whenever sae comes onto your radar even just for a second. the way you stop mid-conversation to hold your breath when he asks rin (and you but you do nawt speak) what you guys want for dinner when you stay over. rin can’t contain his laughter when his brother leaves the room. “what are you laughing about?” you sound annoyed and flattened after holding your breath—he has to hold his hand up to signal you to just wait until he’s done laughing. “what the heck was that?” he says in between chuckles. you catch onto what he means by that… you aren’t as sneaky as you think you are, are you? “it wasn’t that funny!” you finally get to punch his shoulder in embarrassment after he makes it very apparent that you are quite obvious. despite the fact you haven’t ever actually vocalized to him that you like sae yet, you basically already have. but he’s like an ongoing court case—everybody is innocent until proven guilty.

it’s the way you refuse to go anywhere in the itoshi house unless you’re with rin. he thinks you’re insufferable when you have to insist there’s a ghost who doesn’t allow you to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water—good thing rin is an exorcist! he begrudgingly leads you downstairs only to lean against the wall to wait for you to finish getting your water. oh but if sae is also there? you crawl your way back up the stairs with rin following close behind you, whispering displeased questions. “you just said you were dying of thirst!” he whisper-shouts the moment he closes his bedroom door—he’s getting real annoyed of your antics. “not anymore…” you’re pathetic, making him do a lot just to become a scaredy-cat? “i’d rather not drag a dead body out of my room.” he alludes as if you were actually going to die of dehydration.

you can’t just (basically) live at the itoshi household without interacting with sae at least once. panic begins to set in your stomach when you hear shuffling from behind rin’s bedroom door—is it a robber? is it a murderer? oh no, it is much worse—it’s sae! you hear the doorknob twist and it’s too late for you to hide under the bed or maybe the closet… aw shit—he’s already standing there in all his glory with rin’s training bag. “oh, it’s you.” he says in sight of seeing a familiar figure on his younger brother’s bed. “where’s rin?” he asks and cocks an eyebrow when you don’t respond immediately. why did he have to go looking for him at the worst time? (which is all the time) “h-he’s in the bathroom…” bruh wtf goes through your head which you mentally slap in absolute cringe at your stutter. “oh okay, i’ll leave his bag here. bye.” he drops the bag on the floor before taking his leave—without closing the door! you’re too flushed to care about the gesture. when rin eventually does return to his bedroom, he’s met with the sight of an open door and his friend looking traumatized on his bed.

or that one time where you accidentally clung onto sae after getting an adrenaline rush from a horror movie rin really wanted to watch. you didn’t understand why sae insisted on sitting next to you on the couch when there was a perfectly open spot beside rin. “…and i’ll blow your house in!” a crazed man wielding an axe says before hacking the white door in-front of him the scene was the equivalent to actually being chased and you subconsciously gripped anything beside you which turned into full on hugging. “uhm…” there’s a voice beside you that brings you back to reality. you look at the direction of the voice then hesitantly look up to whatever you’re hugging. oh. my. word. you are clinging onto sae’s arm. safe to say rin was in the middle for the rest of the movie viewings.

“can you just admit it?” rin grumbled after a match with another school. “no idea what y’er talkin’ ‘bout!” you sing-song happily while extending your hand to give him the water-bottle he asked for. his movements halted, the towel on top of his head being left there to rot. he looks at you like he hates you for saying that, he snatches his water-bottle like it’s a crime for you to even be holding it. the man in-front of you is absolutely tired of your bullshit that he has tolerated for at least 3 years. “admit it right now.” he’s a lot more serious and anticipating an answer—more than any other situation he’s asked you in. “legit, no idea what you’re talking about.” there’s a lot of things you do need to admit, like how you still need to admit that you’re the one who added the vinegar in his soy sauce… “you like big bro, don’t you?” he bluntly states. “w-what makes you think that?” you stutter like the one time sae directly spoke to you. “everything.” it’s disturbing how much rin means to you that you actually finally admit your feelings.

it’s like you’re the 3rd child of the itoshi family, being at the airport to watch (the love of your life) sae depart for another country. there were tearful goodbyes which you wanted to relate to but you couldn’t because then it would out you for liking him because you never really talked to him anyway. he was exchanging goodbyes with each of his family members—his dad, then his mom, lastly rin. okay… why’s he looking over to you… “it’s okay to cry over this, i know you’ll miss me.” he winks, his stupid bangs actually looking good for once—it feels like every blood cell in your body is rushing to your cheeks and ears. “why’d he say that…” you turn to rin who is beside you after sae turned his back towards everybody for who knows how long. “i told him.” he blurts out. “RIN!!!!”

your feelings were definitely not resolved that day. you still have silent beef with rin for him outing you, you didn’t even know he snitched until he told you! the last time sae was in the country other than for u-20, he had a really bad comeback with rin—making you ice over your affections (not an effective way for getting over somebody btw).

“so?” he’s condescending. the absence of his bangs make you realize how much more grown he looks now. however, the thing that you really take note of is his eyes. sure, he’s grown more into his face but the way his eyes are half-lidded and no longer the bright annoyed ones make you really question everything.

gosh—literally every time he speaks to you, you just can’t make up the words. that ‘that was 11 years ago, sae’ was probably all your confidence for the next 11 years to come. “a lot can happen during a decade.” you push through to retort, clutching the bag that hung lazily over your shoulder. out of anywhere, he chooses to confront you like this—after a game?

“i didn’t even say it myself, that was rin!” you defend yourself, not letting yourself give into his advancements. he steps forward and you know he’s shorter than rin but fucking hell… “i changed a lot, didn’t i?” it’s a rhetorical question—he knows you can tell. it’s like he was testing the waters because when you don’t respond but you don’t react violently either, he continues, “i’m not stupid either. you don’t think i couldn’t tell?”

which event was he referring to? what if he was referring to when… oh not now. “okay, so what if it was true? that doesn’t mean i like you anymore.” you scramble around your thoughts to find words. “too bad, i still like you.”

ugh, i waited this long.

ALSO I JUST WANNA THANK EVERYONE 🙁🙁🙁 thank you guys for 100 followers :)

[flowerandblood]

Ask Game for readers who would like to tell their favorite authors that they love them and their work

copy, paste and send to your favorite writers the phrases that you think best reflect their work and make them smile

👀 eagerly await updates from you every day ⏰ admire how fast you write and that you publish regularly 💀 your scenes of violence grab me by the throat 💌 love your answers to other people's asks about your stories 🤡 love the way your characters use irony 💖 adore literally everything you write 🥵 your smut scenes make me die of thirst 💔 your angst scenes ruins me every time 🍓 your fluff scenes always make me feel pleasantly blissful 🩸 living for your terrifying, disturbing psychos 🎀 you describe tender, soft intimacy wonderfully 🧠 love how your brain works and how you solve plots 🌺 you make me root for your heroes every time 🍄 love how crazy some of the scenes you write are 🩰 have been waiting for a writer like you all my life

🌞 reading your works cheers me up and makes me feel better ⭐️ everything you write draws me in immediately 🎨 Iove your references to art, history, mythology, culture 💡 your ideas are always fresh and surprising 🧸 often go back to your old stories to re-read them 🍀 you can describe emotions and feelings perfectly 📗 when I read your story I feel like I'm reading a book 🧩 adore how you connect different threads together 💐 love your female characters and what they are like 🧶 your dialogues are as if real people were talking to each other 🧊 the changes your characters make don't feel forced 💎 you perfectly portray the mind and thoughts of your characters 💧 there were times when I cried reading your stories 🌌 I love that your stories create whole additional universes 😱 your fics have amazing, unexpected plot twists 🎵 specific songs remind me of your stories 🍇 your intimate scenes are written with great taste 🍆 love the way you write male characters 🪀 your stories are very easy, quick and enjoyable to read 🔮 when I think that nothing will surprise me anymore, you do it 💣 you can build tension in your stories incredibly well 🎬 love to imagine your stories as if I was watching a movie 🎱 you write very satisfying, non-obvious endings 🎩 while waiting for your new chapters I read old ones 🧛‍♀️ crave your new stories like a vampire craves blood

[tteokdoroki]

HIGH HEELS - ryomen sukuna.

౨ৎ — about. “sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much.” as rough and rugged as he may seem, ryomen sukuna lives to see his girl happy. he loves to see her smile. he loves to know she feels as good as she looks…but when you end up looking a little too good in a certain pair of heels, he can’t be blamed for making you late for a dreaded dinner... ( 6.2K )

౨ৎ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, pwp — video banner. modern!au, rich girl!au, forbidden romance, reader has sisters, degradation, praise, pain play, fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism, slight!daddy kink, hold the moan, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), masturbation (m!receiving), cum play, creampies, modern bf!sukuna, rich girl fem!reader.

౨ৎ — things to note. haii everyone ! it’s been a while since i posted a longer fic so im excited. this was supposed to be a thirst lol. i’m just testing the waters with my version of modern bf!sukuna ! many thanks to @yennified for the ask that inspired it all. i’d like to thank everyone for their patience ‘n i hope you enjoy mwah mwah <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

“we’re going to be late, hot stuff.” 

“no we’re not, ryo. give me five minutes! i just need to —“ 

if there’s one thing ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori had  learned from dating you, is that time management was never and never will be your strong suit.

if the phrase fashionably late could be embodied as a person, sukuna believes that it would definitely take the shape of you. you and your beautiful brown eyes that plead with him to give you a moment not even five minutes before you leave the house for dinner reservations. you and your sinful curves only accentuated the silk slip dresses you spend so long steaming before sukuna takes you out for the night. you and your perfect lips that have to be painted with the right gloss or lipstick to match your nails, purse and heels. 

all of you, and your beauty, make up the meat and bones of the phrase ‘fashionably late.’

just like right now, where you sit reapplying your hot chocolate lip gloss, perched on the edge of the luxurious king sized bed you’d demanded be in your hotel room. a room booked by your father for a family-oriented get-away. sukuna hadn’t wanted to come, as a man from humble beginnings, using your daddy’s money wasn’t something that he favoured — but the man liked to see his girl happy. sukuna lives to make you happy, even if he won’t admit it. 

“do ya really need five minutes to fix your lip gloss?” the pink haired man chides, sweeping a hand through his rosette locks in the mirror as he re-enters your bedroom. “i’ve seen you do it in less, gorgeous,” blood red eyes are quick to place you in the centre of the room — they never stray from you for too long, sukuna will always find you in a room no matter how busy or bare it is. your presence fills him with love and brings him comfort, even if he refuses to accept that as his truth. 

there’s a coldness to the look you give him over your compact mirror while you rub the swell of your lips together, spreading the pigment across them easily. it’s a warning not to rush you, a warning to your boyfriend who knows better. “i said, i need my five minutes.” 

ryomen drops the topic with a shrug, fixing his silky tie at the collar of his dress shirt — the one you’d so carefully picked because it matches the deep tone of his eyes and the colour of your slip dress. a mark of possession on your part. once he’s done, he takes to packing your designer clutch with all of your essentials from the dresser — blotting powder, your purse, any silver jewellery you’ll want to put on in the car. he slips on a couple of expensive rings to match with you too.

sukuna is more prepared for this dinner with your insufferable relatives than you are. he knows that tonight will be about your little sister and the rich lord she’s bagged as her boyfriend along with how soon they’ll be getting married. or it’ll focus on your older sister and her marriage that she’s trying so hard to keep together, despite it clearly falling apart. both of your siblings seem to think that they’re above you and your brooding, misunderstood boyfriend. 

but you don’t believe that. 

and you like to rub your love for one another in their bitter faces. 

“pretty girl,” sukuna purrs, his chest rumbling with affection once he takes note of your heels discarded to the side. their silver sparkles glint under the warm embrace of the lighting up above. sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. they’re expensive too — he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much. “if you don’t hurry up, we won’t be able to brag to your bitchy sisters about how in love we are.”

by no means is sukuna a man of weak resolve. his will is as strong as his exterior — coated in the scars of his rough past like the thick black tattoos that ink his arms. he remains strong in every scenario except for ones that concern you, one look from you and you’ve got that mountain of a man crumbling like an avalanche and falling to his knees. you cast your boyfriend an amused gaze, smacking your lips as you watch him sink to his knees before your very eyes. 

once again, your man takes the hint — thick fingers reaching for your glittery red bottom heels on the floor before he brings them up to the soles of your feet without a word. “you know how much i love the sound of that, ryo,” comes your dark hum, the colour of your eyes dimming with a desire ryomen sukuna knows all too well. “but i don’t see an issue with looking good while i do it.” 

“you’re right,” sukuna quips in a husky tone, taking one foot and slipping one of your expensive shoes onto it. “who cares if we’re late to meet your sisters. as long as you feel as good as you look — i couldn’t give a fuck.” his thick fingers that know the twitches and ticks of your body oh-so-well reach for the straps of your heels and slowly begin weaving them around your ankle, upwards. 

his blood red eyes remain hooked on your exposed thighs and supple skin, littered with a beautiful array of marks and scars from over your years of existence. some from before you even knew of ryomen, others from during your time together. “do you think i look good, baby?” you ask him innocently, leaning back on the bed with the palms of your hands lost in the whipped peaks of expensive cotton sheets — most exclusively found in this five star hotel. 

sukuna grins in that slow and sexy way which makes your stomach lurch with lust, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. “fuckin’ gorgeous, they’ll be shakin with rage.” he says, praise melting on the tip of his tongue. his words, in a symphony syllables, are accompanied by an undercover tune of desire — sukuna is a hungry man with little patience and a big appetite. once he’s settled on something, he’s damn sure to get it. 

tonight; his prey is you. 

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink hair bends at the neck to press a chaste kiss to your knee cap, smoothing the rough surface of his palms and workman’s hands over your doughy thighs — massaging you, easing any knots and tension beneath the top layer of your warm skin. his lips, only slightly chapped, curl upwards with a knowing smile when you let out a pleased chirp. sukuna’s hands work wonders on your body — causing your mind to drift away from the family dinner that awaits you. 

tonight; you could very well fall victim to the claws and fangs ryomen sukuna possesses.

kisses quickly become open mouthed and wet, hot and slippery over your flesh — and soon, sukuna adds teeth to the mix once he reaches your inner thighs, littering the area with deep shades of purple and midnight blue. he had no intentions of ravaging you like this, at least not so soon, but with a woman this irritable and fiery and troublesome on his arm how could he not? they say that you attract what you put out and the mirthy look in your eye, hidden between beautiful brown flecks of innocence, tells sukuna that you’re exactly what his guarded soul has been looking for all of his life.

his pulse quickens beneath the calcium cage of his chest — heart beat rising as you allow his curious lips and pink fluffy hair begin to disappear under the silky fabric of your figure-hugging dress. sukuna can practically taste you, the air underneath your skirt is dewy and warm and your flavour (that he knows oh so well) lingers within its particles.

god, he wants you so bad. he doesn’t even care how this may look. 

a man like him on his knees, ready to worship you as if you spout riches and bleed liquid gold. 

except you do, you’re worth more than sukuna could ever hope to be. the weight of your net-worth unfairly tips the scales and he doesn’t even care. all because he loves you. 

“why’re we even goin’ to this stupid dinner in the first place?” your rough and ragged boyfriend ponders out loud, with his words slipping over the edge of his sneaky snake's tongue. said tongue, if ryomen inches forward enough, could drag over your budding clit — clearly outlined through the barely-there crotch of your lace panties. “spend the night with me, doll. don’t gotta go a place…” a thick finger pulls the string of fabric away from your sticky slit, toying with the material until your premature arousal glazes his fingertip. 

but before the man can reward himself with the goods between your perfect thighs — the sharp point of your heel digs into ryomen’s firm right pec. your shoes are clean so they won’t leave a mark, but he feels like you’ve left one on his heart, even as the bottom of your shoe pushes him back and away from your warmth. 

“oh ryo, you must be hungry for the wrong thing,” you laugh breathlessly with your head tipping backwards, the sound shooting straight down to the hardness beneath sukuna’s black slacks. you push at him further until he rests back on his haunches — expression crazed and like a starved animal. “you forgot the other shoe, love.” 

it turns out, you’re just as skilled a huntress as sukuna is. a vixen who stalks her prey and makes them beg for all her mercy. “how careless of me…” the man drawls, finding himself drawn to you like a moth to a candle’s flame. he craves your attention, he basks in it when you give it to him in the way that you do now. there’s not a moment where you’re not looking at him, admiring the shape and form of your man as if he’s the rarest piece of art in the world or a treasure more expensive than any diamond. 

within the depth of those enticing brown eyes lay the truest form of love — even when you’re seconds away from devouring each other, your love for ryomen outgrows any doubt planted in your heart by your bitter family. 

“y’must be so disappointed in me…” he goes on, lifting your second ankle in one hand and adjusting your foot into the perfect position to slip your other heel on.  “how can i make it up to ya, gorgeous?” sukuna’s voice is gravelly, laced with intonations of neediness as he laces you up and finishes the job with a hand clasped over your knee. “i’ll do anythin’, anythin’ you want.”

graciously, you remove your red bottom from his shoulder and part your knees like the Red Sea — giving the older itadori the perfect view of the small string of fabric nestled between your glistening folds. even with the way you play coy, you’re always ready for him — as if it’s coded into your DNA to yearn for his touch. 

the upper row of your teeth sink into your shiny bottom lip as you look down at your man with unadulterated hunger. “anything, ryo?” 

sukuna’s chest rumbles (like a storm) with pride, his watchful gaze noting how you twitch and writhe for more. he leans forward and lets his black painted nails sink into the surface of your thighs — dragging you towards his awaiting mouth. “anythin’ for you gorgeous.” he repeats, voice raspy. in one swift movement, your red-bottom heels are swung over wide shoulders with thick muscles, keeping you nice and spread for him. 

from over your barely-there-panties, a finger glides through your glistening pussy lips and presses into your budding clit just to get a reaction out of you. a squeak that makes sukuna’s hips buck into the floor and a full body shiver that has your heels knocking behind the man’s head. arousal pearls on his fingertip through the material, which he leisurely rubs into the rest of your heated and throbbing sex, right down to your quivering hole. 

two fingers with polished black nails slip past your underwear’s waistband and dip inside of you with practised ease, instantly curling to find that special spot that drives you up the wall. sukuna knows you well, he’s spent years getting to that point. he’s committed every little detail there is to know about you to memory — the your lashes flutter when you like how he touches you, the way your throat bobs just before you mewl out his name. he knows exactly what you like and how to make you feel good. that fact drives sukuna into a frenzy.

his fingers start to work you faster, a lewd suctioning sound echoing throughout the luxurious room the deeper they plunge into you. sukuna’s thumb deliciously rolls over your swollen clit to add to your mounting pleasure, writing the signature of his claim on one of the most sacred parts of your body — where no other person can have you. 

“ryomen!” you squeal in surprise, your shaky thighs threatening to close around your boyfriend’s skilled hands. your hole clenches around his thick digits feverishly while drooling directly into the seat of his rough palm.

a resounding chuckle echoes between your legs, vibrating against your syrupy sex as his pink head of hair disappears beneath the hem of your silken skirt. “that good, huh?” comes his lazy reply to your call of his name, using his fingers to fuck your arousal back into you. “what’s the matter, pretty girl?” 

condescension twists with your boyfriend’s baritone voice, sending sparks of delight through your body like a thunder strike from zeus himself. when it comes to sex and pleasing you — sukuna is a god amongst mankind. the best you’ve ever had:

“don’t tease,” you growl out impatiently through gritted teeth, though your words melt into a whiny moan when sukuna easily bares down on your g-spot because he knows your squishy insides like the backs of his very hands. he finds it adorable when your face scrunches at the sensation of his cold, silver ring brushing up against your molten, sticky cunt and hums in content when you squirt a little bit for him in response. “we…we h-have plans for tonight!” 

“‘m sorry princess, didn’t know we were in a rush.” ryomen says smugly, leaning into the sinful scent of your sex as if he’s been bewitched. not even the sound of your silver gladiator heels knocking against one another behind his head can pull the man out of this reverie. despite your warning, your boyfriend figures that there’s still time to have his way with you, you don’t really care about being on time to meet your family and you hardly have the brain capacity to think about them right now.

not when you fall under the vicious waves of ecstasy and give in to your depraved lover. ryomen quickly has you drowning in pleasure as he finally takes the plunge and replaces his thumb on your clit with his lips wrapped around it. he sucks on the little nub from over your panties, tongue glazing the fabricated barrier with his saliva as he commits the taste of you to memory once again. 

your natural musk has sukuna drunk and high within seconds. you’ve got him returning to old habits and addictions he doesn’t have the strength to fight off. you’re bad for him and he knows it, but he can’t help but to make out with your clothed mound like it’s his life’s mission, mapping out the shape of your cunt through the stringy, soiled material. you ought to be embarrassed with the way you throb against sukuna’s eager lips as he buries his face further into your pussy. he inhales sharply, nastily, with his nose nudging against the sensitive treasure in circles — coaxing you open like a flower in the spring bloom. 

ecstasy decides to bloom within you too, evergreen roots taking residence deep within your chest and curling around your beating heart. your pulse quickens in anticipation, an intoxicating veil of covetous yearning shrouding your brain in darkness as the tip of sukuna’s tongue now begins to circle your tight little entrance. even with the fabric in the way, you greedily attempt to clench down on his predatory pink appendage and keep him locked inside your cunt — squirting small streams of your juices in the process. 

if your siblings could see you right now, how dirtily your man begins to ravage you just minutes before your family dinner while dripping on his tongue and the expensive bed daddy paid for, they’d be horrified. the sentiment strikes a pang of arousal in you, spreading to your boyfriend like a wildfire. 

and as ryomen hooks a finger around the soiled gusset of your panties to pull them down, you hardly find it within yourself to care about what your snotty sisters might think — not when you’re about to receive the best head and best orgasm of your life. 

“how d’ya wan’it?” instead of making a move to eat you out properly, ryomen takes two fingers and spreads your folds and exposes them to the blazing heat of his breath. exhaling through his nose next, he watches with blood red eyes as you twitch beneath his hold, dribbling liquid gold more than his mouth drools. “you’re so fuckin’ wet…all this from puttin’ on those pretty shoes?” your thigh shifts in response, heels clicking and back arches from luxury sheets crinkling under your back.

huffing impatiently, you send a threatening look down at your boyfriend despite how vulnerable you are to his torture teeth that could tear you apart in an instant. “ryo…your mouth,” you whinge, voice slipping into an almost babyish tone. despite your hard stare, your eyes are wet and wide like a prey animal watching its life go by right before it’s hunted or a deer in headlights, for that matter. “you promised you wouldn’t t-tease!”

“yeah, yeah, i know. ‘m sorry,” sukuna hums confidently, except he’s not really apologetic in the slightest — hardly doing his best to tame the uncomfortable yearning building up at your core. you’re a mess for him and he loves it, he’s entertained by the thought of you needing him so bad that it might kill you. he takes pride in knowing it’s not just him who feels this way. “thank you for tellin’ me, by the way. gonna use my mouth to fuck this pretty pussy til’ she’s creamin’ all for me,” he growls to you in a sultry tone, his aphrodisiac-like  words a breath’s width away from your sloppy mound — its timbre sound sending tremors of electricity through your swollen, unattended clit that convulses from the lack of attention.

nothing inflates ryomen sukuna’s ego more than the feeling of your sex throbbing against his face — juices glossing the plump swell of his lips as he wraps them around your puffy pleasure nub. his chest bristles as you open up for him like a flower in spring, the scent of your arousal acting like a perfume to him — the bee with the stinger of pleasure. he works his savage mouth along the length of your slit, as though he lacks the manners of a decently raised man, tongue prodding at your entrance just to be mean. after a while, sukuna stops sucking and making out with your dirty, creamy cunt to nip at your titillating folds, taking one between rows of sharpened pearly whites and gently pulling it away from you. 

at the abrupt feeling — you cry out hoarsely in a mix of bliss and surprise, taking a peek at the pink haired man between your spiked thighs with swimming vision. sukuna’s face is soaked, his angled jaw and cheeks and chin glazed in a layer of your slick as if he’s bitten into the ripest piece of fruit in adam and eve’s garden. the trail runs armously down and over his adam’s apple, coaxing your lover into eating you out properly this time. 

finally, finally putting his filthy mouth to good use.

“fuck, i love the way y’drool for me down here. got so much to give, don’cha gorgeous?” sukuna mewls into you whilst kitten licking your slit, drinking you in as though you’re a glass of water in an oasis of lust and sex. he chuckles happily at your dreamy sigh and circling hips that grind down on his face, tapping three fingers against your sticky pleasure bud lovingly. annoyingly ( but not without appreciation from you), sukuna takes it a step further by sloppily kissing you there. 

even with the time crunch, your pleasure takes priority. eating you out is like a reward for your man, it’s as though he was out on this earth by the gods purely to make you see stars. you feel lucky that he chose you out of all he could where he feels blessed to be the man you let touch you like this. 

“mmph, ryo… always g’na be wet f’you. for my man. only you get me this fucked up,” you drawl with a silky voice, making a show of tweaking your own nipples from over your dress for your boyfriend. with the slipperiness of a snake, your hands slide down from between the valley of your heaving breasts, over your clothed tummy ( that twists with knots of ecstasy ) and into the slicked pink locks that tickle your inner thighs. messing up his perfect look, you grip sukuna’s roots and tug on them forcefully — coaxing him further into the debauched realm concealed by the skirts of your dress.  

“princess…” ryomen lets out a pathetic, muffled groan — increasing the pace of the tip of his tongue as it lewdly flicks at your sex. “have you always had such a dirty mouth? what would yer daddy think?”

your head tips back at the new, gratifying sensation — ecstasy mounting in your lower tummy like bricks of a steady wall. “for as long as i’ve been yours,” comes your crazed and melodious laughter, only interrupted by pockets of squelching noises emitted from your squelching cunt. “oh baby…i don’t give a fuck about what my ‘daddy’ thinks. only you. let him stay mad — f-fuck! kuna!”

fuelled by the idea of pissing off your stuck up family, tattooed hands move to grip where your legs bend at the knee — pushing them back until your skirt rides up over your fleshy ass and your knees hit your shoulders and the soles of your shoes are able to lay flat against sukuna’s rippling back muscles. he hisses at the slight sting he feels from the pointed heel digging into his skin through his shirt, but it only fucks him up more. your pleasure is his pain, ryomen doesn’t give a fuck about anything else except for how good his girl feels. 

somewhere amongst the sweat soaked sheets your phone lets out a shrill cry — signifying a call from someone in your spoiled family. without sukuna’s command, you scramble through the sea of stiff fabric peaks and reach for the device, hitting the answer button before checking the contact. 

“h-hello?” you say in a poor attempt to speak clearly, stifling a deep moan. “speak of the devil and the devil shall appear…” comes your shallow whisper as you address your boyfriend. your chest grows sticky with perspiration beneath the bust of your dress — breathing uneven and heavy because of the way ryomen’s tongue wriggles past your tight little hole, squirming about against your lush walls to hit that special spot that has you screaming and seeing stars while on the phone to one of your relatives.

“excuse me, young lady?” it’s your father, much to sukuna’s dismay, his voice is irritatingly recognisable over the crackling of the line. of course he would find some way to unknowingly interrupt yourself and your loving, doting, disapproved boyfriend. “you were supposed to meet your sisters and i for dinner nearly forty minutes ago. where are you?” 

sukuna’s agitation shows with each wet kiss he aggressively places between your swollen folds, nasty and miscalculated whilst designed to leave you a shaky mess.“o-oh! hi daddy,” you emphasise the word, voice rising an octave until its light an airy. your swimming, doe eyes lock with crimson ones that bore into the depths of your soul from below — taunting and testing the pink haired man’s patience. “‘m getting ready. don’t you want me to look pretty?” 

the silky lilt to the tail end of your words causes sukuna to growl against your pulsating, temperate mound while his fingers yank you down onto his handsome face by your meaty thighs. eagerly, your hips canter down to match the stride of his tongue stroking your pretty pussy as though you’re riding his aching cock to your heart’s content. his tongue fills you up almost as good, warmly slipping and sliding over pleasure spots only he can reach. 

he kitten licks and sucks and bites at your raw sex like a wild animal, loudly moaning into you with every roll of your cunt over his face. you taste like heaven, the flavour almost angelic on his tongue. sukuna feels like a sinner with a greedy craving for more and if you cared just a little bit, you might have been concerned about your father catching the lascivious sounds from between your thighs over the phone. 

“i’m past the point of caring about how you present yourself at dinner,” your father says your name stern and low — talking to you as if you’re a child and not the woman you’d grown into. “your sisters are ravenous, they flew all the way into the country for this. don’t you think that they deserve an ounce of your time?” 

losing yourself to the danger of it all, you chuck your phone to the side after putting it on loud speaker. your lover targets your prominent, adorable clit again, the tip of his tongue rolling it in large circles until you’re close to tearing the sheets from the bed. you try your best to contain the scream building up in your throat, but sukuna has never made it easy for you to keep quiet. 

“mph…fuck!” 

“young lady! watch your mouth!” your father scolds you, still blissfully unaware of the fact that you’re getting tongue fucked by the man he hates all the way up to cloud nine. “i bet that good for nothing scoundrel has put you up to this. i keep telling you, no daughter of mine should be with a man like that. where is he? he’s the one making you late.” 

“actually, dad, sukuna’s been a good boy. sitting all handsome in those suits you like. i’m the one making…oohhh…m-making us late!” cruel carmine eyes flutter at your generous praise, lovesick as a sunburn like blush spreads over the bridge of sukuna’s nose from how desperate he is for you. if you tried your hardest to listen in over the wet sounds of your cunt being sucked on for dear life, along with the shaky delectable laments your lover lets out, you might be able to hear the sound of a zipper going down or the slickness of sukuna’s hand around his meaty shaft as he jerks himself off. no longer able to fight off his desire for you. 

your stomach flips at the sight and the pleasure mounts with your impending high, dainty fingers beginning to tug and twist at sukuna’s blushing pink hair. his pain is your pleasure.

“you’ve lost your mind, i didn’t raise you to be like this.” 

“you hardly…hardly raised me at all,” the words feel tacky in your mouth, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton that sucks up your saliva. it doesn’t help that your voice begins to waver too, reaching whistle tone notes. 

ryomen sukuna doesn’t know what’s hotter, the fact that you’re so easily able to sass your rich, douchey father or the fact that you’re letting him give you head while on the phone. “shit,” he curses as low as possible, using one had to smooth the pad of his thumb over the slit in his cockhead — smearing the precum that beads there over the sensitive flesh. his kiss swollen lips part from your sweet sex for only a moment to taunt you. he remains connected to you by a single rope of clear elixir that leaks from your precious little hole. “god, gorgeous. you’re fuckin’ drenched…all from talkin’ back to daddy, huh?” 

a lewd and sacchariferous mewl rumbles from deep in your chest as it rapidly rises and falls. it’s all too much for you to keep up with, you’re way too dizzy and it’s only made worse when sukuna bobs his head between your quivering legs so that his fat tongue drags through the entirety of your ravaged pussy lips. 

“holyfuckingshit!” you shoot the man a  glare once you remember where you are and who you’re on the phone to.

ryomen offers up a cocky smirk as his excuse before delving beneath your silken skirts once more, though it does nothing to mask how turned on he is — squeezing the base of his drippy shaft to stop himself from cumming too soon to the sight of you. 

you try not to forget the presence of your father again, it would be hard to, since he’s insistent on betraying you down the phone. “speak back to me again and i’m cutting you off. starting with cancelling the card you and your mangy boyfriend live off of.” 

“do it, i dare you.” you somehow manage to snap back, jolting at the sensation of sukuna’s razor sharp teeth grazing your clit. he hisses deliciously against your sex as your heels cut pretty crescent moons into his back. “i-i wonder what mom would have to say about it if you…if you did!” 

silence echoes down the line, broken by small pockets of your boyfriend slurping on your folds like a man starved. slurps that you’re just so blessed to be able to hear. you should feel ashamed instead of hungry, doing nothing to tame the greedy beast inside you that craves more and more of sukuna’s attention on you. you must have lost your mind, for letting him eat you out so brazenly while you converse with your father on the phone. it’s so depraved, so dirty and yet you wouldn’t give this… give sukuna up for the world. 

you love him more than anything. love how he treats you like you’re the strongest person he knows whilst handling you as though you’re made of glass. you love how he gets off to you, dribbling thick white from the tip of his cock because you make him a mess enough to need to jerk off. you love how he pleasures you, his baritone laments and simpers muffled against your cunt sending fireworks up your spine and setting them off at your tailbone where your mounting pleasure lies. 

you love ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori, and no amount of scolding from your father will ever change that. 

“just…just be here within the hour. please.” your father requests quietly. 

“see you soon, daddy,” you hang up the phone faster than a lightning strike, all of your composure flying out of the window with the last dial tone. “ryo, fuck! i’m close… gonna cum. please, hurry!”

“god you’re such a fuckin’ menace, hah, pretty girl?” your pink haired lover quips airily, his jaw tight from flicking his tongue against your sex in sync with his fist flicking around his throbbing dick, slinging precum about the place. he’s amused and love sick all at once, a feeling that was once foreign to ryomen before he met you. “gotcha so turned on by talking back to your dad, yeah? all while i ate this pretty fuckin’ pussy out… so nasty,” only sukuna could make you feel this loved while degrading you, the only man who’s ever been able to do so. none of them could come close to knowing your body like he does, the way you twitch when you’re close and start to pout like a spoilt brat when you’re frustrated from waiting for your orgasm.

sukuna takes the edge off by lifting a tattooed arm and slapping his hand down on the entirety of your cut — letting out a haughty moan at the sight of glistening droplets of arousal flying about the place while your heels drag down his back with delightful pain. you cry out, but your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you in seconds — soothing your poor pussy. “‘m so lucky to have you though, my nasty fuckin’ princess,” he mewls into you, using his tongue to bully your g-spot over and over and over while he fists his precum glazed cock into oblivion. “gonna make you cum, gorgeous girl. let you make a mess in my mouth, you want that?” 

“m-more than anything, ryo!” you wail, fighting back tears as you spew a fresh wave of your sweet nectar from your pathetic hole. you do have a dinner to get to after all, you should only be crying from one place. your cunt. the sound of said squelching cunt and your dulcet whines make sukuna’s balls twitch with a load he would only dedicate to you.  “i love you, love you s’much…love you,” 

the delirium starts to catch up with you, becoming too much to bare as you babble nonsense into the sex tainted air. you can’t hold back, some of your release already beginning to stream out of you. “‘m gonna cum, ryo…cum with me, please!” you squeal in warning, mere seconds before your body succumbs to sukuna’s eager tongue and the wrath of your orgasm. 

“love you too, s’much,” your glittery heels knock behind his sweaty mass of pink hair, cutting into his back as he walks you through it all. “f-fuck baby, that’s it,” he goads as you gush into his mouth like a tidal wave. you have so much to give, release trickling into his mouth, painting his cheeks and sliding down his adam’s apple in a viscous current. sukuna is swept away by the arousal in the air, drinking you in as he pumps his cock harshly and in tune with the way you weakly hump at his face through the aftershocks. 

pulling his sticky mouth away from your equally sticky sex, sukuna replaces his tongue with three of his fingers to your clit — coaxing you through the rest of your high as he draws random shapes on the puffy nub. “keep that orgasm goin’ for me, pretty princess, give it to me…give it t’me while i fill you up,” he rambles brainlessly, abruptly standing up as he fists his cock pulled out from the zipper of his dress pants — barely fighting back his own orgasm. “spread those fuckin’ legs, wanna cum inside.” 

“ryo!” 

“ahh, fuckin’…fuuuck!” in one swift move, your boyfriend slips his sensitive and bulbous cockhead past your quivering, orgasming entrance — shallowly thrusting into your tight heat as you spasm around him, before he’s thrown off the edge into his own high. “c-cummin’…” hot sticky ropes of white seed flood your womb, which sukuna keeps plugged into you as he folds you over — chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your heels clink at the dip in his waist behind his back. you’re still cumming as languid thrusts smear your boyfriend’s cum against your rippling walls, but you’re content, breathing beginning to even out as you both come down from cloud nine.

still releasing in small spurts, ryomen slowly pulls out of you with soft kisses pressed to the side of your face. “sorry, didn’t wanna fuck up my pants before dinner,” he chuckles over the warm static spreading over your happy little brain. 

you offer him your own dopey laughter, remaining sprawled out underneath your hunk of a man. “so you decide to just jizz inside of me? you’re a class act ryo. what about my dress?” 

“first of all, you don’t like it when shit goes to waste ‘n second off all, i made damn sure that it stuck. your dress is fine, brat.” a chaste kiss is pressed to your nose as sukuna helps you sit up, double checking for any mess he might have left between your shaky legs. “let me clean you up, don’t want your dad findin’ out what we were really up to all this time.” 

“pretty sure he already knows,” you shrug, rolling your ankles as you lean down to fix a strap on your heel. “you’re a messy eater, ryo.” 

but before you can fix your shoe back into place, ryomen sukuna is already on it — adjusting the strap to sit comfortably on your leg before he stands again and retreats to the bathroom for a warm cloth to clean you up with. 

you watch with a smirk as he goes, admiring all of the little red marks on his shoulder blades you’ve left on him with your shoes. “then i guess i’ll have to use some fuckin’ table manners at dinner,” he remarks childishly. “but i can’t help how delicious you look in those heels, gorgeous.” 

and it’s true, you’re the only meal sukuna could ever want — especially when you leave your claim on him with high heels like that. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere. special thanks to @yennified for the ask below !

[sumbarbietingz]

Warning: incubus!Toji, mind-breaking, mention of repetitive creampies, uhhh… stomach expansion? Cum filled stomach? Cum filled coochie? Idfk man it’s kinda nasty that’s all you gotta know. Don’t jump me if some elements aren’t realistic biologically speaking💀.

Well, shit, who knew that this book your friend gave you about casting spells, drawing pentagrams, summoning spirits and demons was legit? Can you be blamed for summoning a thousand-year-old 6’3 incubus, who was built like a god? After all, you thought it was some bullshit. You didn’t expect it to go that way. When he asked you to fuck after appearing in your living room through that pentagram that you drew, you should’ve pissed yourself and found a way to make him go back to whatever hellish place he came from. But for some stupid, foolish reasons, you accepted to sleep with him. The best sex of your life in exchange, he gains energy every time he cums in you is what the deal was. It sounded too good. Way too good to resist. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, you couldn’t miss it after never finding a good dick to satisfy your urges. And it’s a good thing that you love creampies. So. Easy peasy right?….

.

.

.

….right?

Well, shit you got krissed.

You don’t know how long it’s been. 30 minutes? 2 hours? 2 days? You don’t know how many orgasms you’ve had. Maybe 5? 30? 100? It doesn’t matter now cause you’re beyond fucked out, no single thought is going through your head right now. What the demon named Toji didn’t tell you is how many times he has to cum in you to gain his full energy back. He also didn’t tell you that the amount of loads he can shoot is not the normal amount a regular man does. He also obviously purposely didn’t tell you that his semen once inside you replaces your basic human necessities. Meaning that you don’t feel the need to drink, eat, piss, or shit because of it. It was meant so the incubus’ partner wouldn’t die from thirst or starvation during the intercourse. Yeah, the demon was only going to stop until your stomach was about to implode. It wouldn’t surprise you if this whole “I need my energy back” thing was a lie.

You should’ve known that it wouldn’t be so easy, that something was off especially coming from a fucking demon.

Your gaze was unfocused. You didn’t even have the strength to hold the cushions for dear life anymore. You’ve never had this amount of pleasure in your entire existence. And the worst thing is you didn’t feel like stopping. It just felt too good. So good that your mind began to fracture. All you could think about was the intensity of the pleasure Toji was giving you, each stroke from his enormous cock, each milliliter of cum going inside you takes you farther and farther away from reason and sanity. Rational thoughts were replaced by ecstasy and raw bliss. Each orgasm made you lose more control of yourself. You didn’t care about anything anymore, except for the sensation. You didn’t care if it’s been a day or a whole month that the incubus has been fucking you, you can’t get enough, you want more. You didn't feel the need to shower (stank ass) drink, see your family or your friends, you didn’t want him to stop, ever. You didn’t know what you’d do if you felt your cunt empty for one second.

In this insane state of bliss, you didn’t even realize how fucking huge your stomach has become. It was so big that anyone would think that you were in your third semester of pregnancy. And it kept getting bigger every time Toji came in you.

Meanwhile Toji was still giving you unforgiving thrusts, watching you slowly falling into insanity. He didn’t seem tired or planning to stop anytime soon. He felt so good inside you, he watched his cum covered dick going in and out, your beyond abused pussy oozing with his cum and dripping from your cunt with each stroke which has formed a quite sizeable puddle of the couch, ripples of the sticky gooey texture connected the two of you from his hips to your round ass to his girthed member to your reddened labia. And the sounds were absolutely filthy. The room was filled with suction and wet, viscous noises. It was truly an obscene sight, he loved, no, adored it. He glanced at the marks he left all over your body. Scratches, bite marks, handprints, a true work of art.

While he was fucking you senseless, he placed a hand on your abnormally swollen tummy, chuckling to himself once he felt how stiffened it was. While his hips were still working against you, he bent to whisper in your ear. “Your stomach is about to implode, human.”

Anyone with the slightest amount of rationality would’ve panicked. But not you, you were beyond gone. The only sounds that came out of you were your heavy breathing since you lost your voice from screaming so much. If anything, his “warning” only made you clench your pussy tighter around him. You simply nodded weakly.

Toji chuckled sinisterly. “You silly little thing. You still want me to keep going?”

“Pleeaaaaaase” you whimpered desperately. “One more please please please” you pleaded pathetically. You knew you wanted more than one last load of cum in you, you wanted him to fuck you for the rest of your life, and you didn’t want to do anything anymore than have Toji’s demonic cock rearranging your insides and filling you up 24/7. You were sickly addicted to the feeling, but you didn’t care, it was normal to you at this point.

He hummed “As you wish.” and went faster, sinking his length deep into your cum clogged pussy. You were getting closer and closer to the edge again, your eyes tearing up, a trail of drool dripping from your mouth that had stayed agape. Your body was clearly exhausted, being pushed beyond its limits, but you didn’t care, nothing else mattered other than his cock in you. Toji felt you tightening around him again, your orgasm was coming. He reached down to rub your clit with his clawed hand and that does it for you. You cry out, a wanton, desperate cry of pleasure escaping your vocal cords. Toji follows soon after, gripping your hips tightly while he lets out an animalistic groan, sounding almost reptilian. You almost had another orgasm once you felt your cunt being filled up again. Your stomach, however, clearly didn’t like being forcefully filled like this. Second, after second it was expanding more and more, yet you didn’t even feel any pain. That’s probably another effect from the demon’s semen, not realizing your stomach was about to burst from the litter of the aphrodisiac inside you. If anything, you were in pure bliss, your body shaking from exhaustion and pleasure. Toji as he kept ejaculating in you, could tell your stomach was about to reach its limit. Usually, he wouldn’t care. He would just let it implode and leave you to die like he always does, but the way your mind broke was… beautiful, poetic even. Seeing the loss of your sanity right in your eyes was extremely alluring. So instead he pulled out, causing you to whimper in protest, already missing the feeling of his cock stretching you out. His seed was flooding out of you, causing your tummy to deflate like a balloon, and a large puddle of white formed on the cushion from your dripping pussy. You didn’t want to lose another drop, so you reached out, cupping as much semen as you could with your fingers, and started fucking it back into you. “More…. Mooooooreeeee” you mewled.

Toji caressed your ass cheek. “I’ve been fucking you for days on end human, you seriously want more? You’re not tired?” You shook your head weakly as your fingers kept working. “Nooooo… wan’ mooooreeee….” He chuckled, seems like keeping you alive was a good idea. He smacked your ass, causing you to moan. “You’re such a dirty slut. Look at you. Fingering yourself with my cum 'cause you can’t get enough.” You nodded, heavily breathing. “Yes… please more… please fuck me more…” You were desperate. You’d do anything to get another inch from his girthy dick. He growled, what a desperate bitch. He removed your cum coated fingers from your folds to place his tip instead. The simple contact almost made you cum again. You were truly addicted to his cock. “I could fuck you for months, years, hell even centuries if I wanted to, you know. You’d like that?” He whispered while rubbing the tip against your entrance. You felt a euphoric sensation coursing through you as he said that, it was a dream coming true. “Yesyesyesyes…. Fuck me non stop please pleaseeeeee…..” He hummed in response “Alright then sweetheart. Let’s begin.”

taglist: @perfectanamentality @syluss-slut @piixcelz @nsfwinami @catiekayy @smileyfacesneakers @mpoet

[hannie-dul-set]

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline) — PREVIEW.

SYNOPSIS. having fought tooth and nail out of high school, university, and law school, only to end up working for a law firm that basically serves as a clean up dog after the biggest organized crime group in the district, you thought you couldn’t get any lower than this. 

the bar is in hell, and yet you’ve managed to limbo six feet beneath that. alternatively— na jaemin is the personification of hell, and your very existence just makes him even worse than he already is. 

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader. GENRE. gang! au, lawyer! au, office! au, comedy, drama, romance, very light angst, this is a sitcom, hate to love(?), a somewhat questionable power dynamic, asshole! jaemin (my beloved…my kryptonite…) but he’s also an idiot, jaemin has an eye contact thing, inspired by the manhwas “weak hero” and “study group.” WARNINGS. an abundance of criminal activity (including but not limited to organized crime, fraud, blackmail, DUIs, unethical and illegal occupational practices, etc.), blood and violence, suggestive themes, eventual non explicit sex, jaemin with a tattoo, legal inaccuracies because i am not familiar with south korean laws, so i’m just using my own country’s as reference. also because this is just a stupid thirst fic. who gives a damn.

WORD COUNT. preview: 2.8k | this will be a chaptered fic. TAGLIST. open. send me an ask/dm/reply.

NOTE. this is the side effect of having a clinically insane brain that has to make a fic out of everything, including the law readings that i am subjected to every day. i have also been re-reading weak hero and i’ve projected my favorite feral dog (keum seongje/wolf keum) to the sweetest man alive (na jaemin). i’ve also based their org structure to the Union’s, just for full disclosure. meaning, a whole lot of dream 00 line (criminal) shenanigans are underway. 

this intro note has become a mouthful. anyway, hope you enjoy! 

IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR OFF DAY TODAY. You’re on sick leave— that is, sick and tired of drafting legal papers, meeting clients, reading piles and piles of documents every single damn week, so you decided to use your once-a-month get out of jail free card to stay in bed playing Stardew Valley. It’s pre-planned. You’ve already faked sneezes and coughing fits at the office yesterday. You’ve already called your Division Chief this morning. Kim Doyoung can’t do shit when you’re allegedly bedridden and downtrodden with a fever. He can eat his own ass and suck it.

“You have a new case,” he informs you over the phone. “It’s from Nalkkeutta.” 

Or so you thought.

“Hah,” a weak wheeze squirms out of your throat. “Sure. Okay. Got it.”

Motherfucking son of a bitch. Those two lines spring you out of bed immediately as though your bones have just been tased. God dammit. You’ve just managed to snag Sebastian into wedlock. How dare he throw another job at you right now? How dare he ruin your sweet, sweet honeymoon with the emotionally constipated 2D man of your dreams? 

Still. It doesn’t matter if you just got married or have a collapsing lung right now. You haul your ass, get dressed, get out, and get into your car to drive to your district’s police station in a hissy fit, as per your boss, Kim Doyoung’s, instructions. This damned firm is working you like a dog, but you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. And neither can Kim Doyoung.

“Yes, sir, I’m on my way. Are the files ready? Can you send them to me?”

This case came from Nalkkeutta. NCT. Nal. Day. Kkeut. End. Ta. To burn. The day ends in flames. It’s a name that haunts the streets of Yeongdeungpo. It’s a name that’s synonymous with loan sharking, weapons dealing, and coughing up protection fees unless you want to get your shit rocked on an unfortunate walk home— under the guise of an honest to goodness security company to service your protective needs. 

In the early 90’s, the government had a massive crackdown on gang activity and organized crime, subsequently snuffing out any emerging organized crime presence by officially criminalizing the mere act of joining a gang under the Revised Penal Code. But Nalkkeutta is relatively new. That scorching sunset symbol suddenly emerged in the district one day, around eight to nine years ago, and it’s marred the district of Yeongdeungpo with burn marks ever since.

And your life. You haven’t been lucky enough to be spared from that damned gang’s mess. In fact, you’re currently entangled with one of their messes right now.

The glass doors of the Yeongdeungpo Police Station shut behind you. You’re smacked hard in the face far too artificial lighting and sickly white walls and the words Patriotism, Justice, Honor mocking you in embossed silver. You grimace, cross your arms, divert your eyes with an impatient tap of the foot— and your arrival doesn’t exactly come unrecognized by the front desk and the others scattered around the lobby. One officer takes immediate initiative upon seeing your familiar sour expression, rustling out of a conversation to attend to you. 

“Hey, attorney. How may we help you?”

You eye the man. You’ve come to know him by name— Jung Jaehyun— even without needing to take a peek at his uniform’s name tag. You spare him and yourself the small talk and jump straight to business. “I’m here to see my client,” you inform, followed by under-the-breath swears as you fumble through your phone for the e-file Doyoung had just sent because Nalkkeutt had the gall to demand you to run and fetch the bone they left behind here without even giving you the chance to look at it. Seriously. If they want you to do a good job, they should be more punctual than this. “His name is—”

Huh. You read the top line of the document. A lump forms in your throat. You read it again. Once more. And the letters neither shift nor fold, confirming with absolute certainty that you read the name of your client correctly.

It’s a name you haven’t heard of in a while. It’s name that stalked the corridors of the place you’d bid good riddance to eight years ago with a spit on the concrete ground. 

“Na Jaemin.” There’s a bitter taste on your tongue when you pronounce his name— like your very digestive system can’t stomach it, rejects it, and wants to vomit it right back out. “His name is Na Jaemin.”

A nod from Jung Jaehyun. He turns his heels and leads you further into the station.

Empty footsteps echo against the slowly dimming hall leading to the private visiting rooms. The silence pricks at your memories— an uncomfortable sound you’ve grown accustomed to in the two years you’ve spent at Ganghak High School. It’s been eight damn years since you’ve graduated, yet one mention of a name reels you back into the past with a vividness that’s still as clear as the present.

In your memories, Na Jaemin was the guy who carried with him a pungent air of animosity and violence in his wake. On paper, he is your client, a member of the power-drunk gang that you’re tied by the noose with, and someone you have to defend. At present, he is sits right before you— tight-browed, tight-lipped underneath the singular light bulb hovering above the center of the table, looking as though he’s one clock tick away from flipping the table over (the only thing maintaining a safe distance between the both of you), and leaving on his own accord.

Your eyes meet. Your head snaps down to avoid his gaze.

“Good day, Na Jaemin-ssi,” you manage to choke out. “I will be your lawyer for the case against Yoon Naksung and company.”

You’re not sure how you feel when there isn’t even a click of recognition on his part when you introduce yourself and mention your name. You realize that what you’re feeling is a mixture of fear, relief, and absolute revulsion when he responds with, “So, when the fuck am I getting out?”

There’s a ring in your ears.

It’s the sound of your heart trying to escape from your chest.

You inhale sharply. Fuck. You’re not sure if you have the willpower to push through this, and you can’t even ease your nerves or melt your frozen bloodstream with a sigh because he’s staring right at you— impatient, as though he’s counting down the seconds in his head after a one-sided declaration that you have a limited time to willingly answer before he forces it out of you by the throat.

That fucking looking in his eyes. That damned stare that instinctively triggers you to look down, look away, look anywhere else but directly at him. It’s a habit that everyone in Ganghak used to have. It’s a habit that’s still deeply instilled in your psyche, in your muscles, in your instincts to the point that despite being the person in authority at the moment, you have your head down, throat dry, and doing your damn best to read his case file despite the letters looking all wobbly from your anxiety.

Disturbing the peace. Three counts of physical injury. Less serious. Thank fuck. That makes things a little bit more hopeful, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from hell. Hell is sitting right in front of you, handcuffed because the cops have deemed his very existence a threat to public order and safety. You muster up a bit more confidence knowing he can’t reach over the table to sock you in the face.

“You’re an alleged offender, Na Jaemin-ssi. You’d have to be detained until the trial.”

Na Jaemin sneers, a kick against the table leg with a grunt. “Fucking useless,” he spits. His chair is tipped back, head turned away. You firmly press your lips together. You wish he’d just completely tip over and crash his skull and die.

For someone currently detained for a possible criminal offense, Na Jaemin sure seems very much unbothered yet annoyed at the same time. He sits relaxed on the foldable chair, shoulders slumped as if he owns the place, and he stifles out a lazy yawn— drawing attention to his busted lips and handful of scratches littered all over his cheekbone, temple, and forehead— a stark contrast to the vibrant purple splotch painting over his right jaw. You make a mental note to schedule a physical examination on his ass to record his injuries. 

“But…I can make sure you don’t get arrested” You proceed with caution. His evident annoyance is flecked with momentary interest. You suck in a deep breath. “Were there any other people involved besides you and the three witnesses? Was anyone else there?”

You’re not sure what you were expecting as a response. Whatever it’d be, you just hope you get some useful information. Any sort of information. However, it seems like you just asked the wrong question.

“The fuck? Hell, if I know.”

All that interest is eradicated by a sharp glare. Na Jaemin lets out a huff and a sneer. You’re stressed. You’re beyond stressed. This is impossible. Of all people, why did it have to be him? Back then, you’d always had a feeling that he was part of something sketchy, whether it be some ragtag juvenile group or whatever the fuck. You didn’t care enough to find out. But, christ jesus, he just had to be in fucking Nalkkeut. 

That sun tattoo sprawled on the back of his impatient hand— the gang’s symbol, sun rays etched into the bumps of his veins and calloused skin— tap, tap, tapping on the table with the clunk of his handcuffs tells you that he isn’t just some disposable grunt either. The urgency in Kim Doyoung’s tone when he called earlier confirms that dreadful conjecture as well. He’s up there. Way up there, and you have no choice but to fight back the urge to swallow your own tongue.

“I—I understand. That’s fine. Then…can I ask what events led to the incident?” you tentatively try to prod, taking a peek at his expression to see if you’re greenlit to ask this. His face brightens up. One corner of his mouth twitches upward, revealing a sliver of teeth. You flinch. He looks deranged.

“That bucket wearing dumbass looked me in the eye,” he starts, smiling. “So I punched him right in the socket. Then his friends decided that they wanted a beating too.” 

Na Jaemin is leaning back on the flimsy plastic chair as if he’s reminiscing a happy memory. Jesus christ. He’s always been like this, but it never fails to scare you shitless. You’ve always wondered why he was so insane, but the fact that he currently is and has been in Nalkeutta explains a lot of the things you’ve seen in high school. No high schooler had any business pulling up the gate with a BMW, nor was it reasonable for anyone at your age at the time to afford at least five Cartier watches considering the neighborhood you were in. Yet Na Jaemin and his lackey’s always showed up in the days that he thought was convenient in some sort of Chanel tracksuit and dozens of gold and silver accessories.

You were lucky enough to have never gotten punched in the nose with the absurd amount of rings on his fingers— a taste which he seems to carry until today, you notice while keeping your eyes down and trained on the table. They aren’t allowed to keep any personal belongings in the holding cells, jewelry included, fucking obviously. How this guy managed to keep his is beyond your imagination. 

“So, it wasn’t one-sided,” you try to confirm, try to get a good enough testimony to help his and your sorry ass in court. “Can you testify their participation during the trial?”

Wrong move. Very wrong move.

You jump in your seat when he suddenly lurches forward, chained palms slamming against the rocky table with a loud thump and a clink. “Hey, Little Miss Attorney. Listen very carefully,” he rasps. He’s leaned in closer now, making it a hundred times more difficult to keep your head down and not look him in the eye. “I beat all three of them half to death, and that’s all that matters. This question and answer bullshit is pissing me off. Are we done here? Can you fucking leave now?”

You’re scared shitless. You really are. It’s two years worth of trauma suddenly jumping you from behind a wall and throttling the air out of your lungs— of course you’re fucking terrified, and Na Jaemin can smell it like the rabid dog he is.

The problem is, he isn’t the worst of your fears. This mutt is leashed to an owner that would have your head as a dinner treat if you don’t manage to get him out of this stupid cage. So you don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Damned to hell if you do, damned to an even deeper hell if you don’t.

“Na Jaemin-ssi,” you start. Your jaw is tight. It takes everything in your power to force it open and speak. “I need you to cooperate with me so I can get you out of here. Help me help you, alright?”

You’ve really been trying your best to phrase your sentences in a way that doesn’t sound demanding, that you’re leaving it hp to him because you know this bastard doesn’t like being told what to do. But your careful attempts don’t matter against a volatile son of a bitch. “Why’d you even need my help? Ain’t that shit your job?“ he barbs, a slight scoff hanging off at the end. “Seems like Mark hired a useless fucking lawyer.”

Twice. He just called you useless twice. The sheer level of offense you feel momentarily overpowers your nerves— a biting tick near the side of your temple, and you dig your fingers into the clothed skin of your thigh. 

The Mark he’s referencing did not hire you because you’re useless. In fact, that guy regularly asks for you specifically whenever his gang is caught in any civil or criminal trouble because you’re the only damned attorney willing to get her hands dirty to find an out— and competent enough to pull it off in exchange for an extra zero on your commission. 

Meaning, this bastard is at your mercy. And he has the audacity to piss you the fuck off.

“Strike a nerve?”

Apparently, you failed to hide the scowl polluting your expression. When you sneak a glance at Na Jaemin, he appears to be amused at his successful non-attempt to get under your skin, a lazy, lopsided grin on his face. 

You get it together. Mark Lee, that fucking bastard. It had been fine for the past few months when all you’ve had to mediate were petty settlements and bails and lesser criminal offenses, but you’ve never had to deal with one of his executives directly before— who just so happened to be your high school bully, at that. You close your eyes shut, press your lips together, and release a deep breath from out of your nose as you stand up.

“I’ll handle it. There’s nothing for you to worry about, but I will need to arrange a meeting with you again before the trial.”

Na Jaemin simply shrugs and waives you off. Your tight lips force themselves into a smile as you nod and stomp your way out.

Fucking bastard, fucking piece of shit, fucking, god damn it—

You leave the station with a jumbled up head and with all your five senses screaming themselves into oblivion. Shit. Fuck. What the fuck. Had Kim Doyoing emailed you the file a lot earlier, you wouldn’t have gone here and welcomed yourself directly into hell. You could try to settle with the victims, but in case they won’t agree to a compromise, you’d have to pull a defense out of your ass considering that your client is the most uncooperative asshole you’ve ever been cursed to deal with.

It doesn’t help that spending two years in high school with Na Jaemin is reopening pages and pages of trauma that you thought you’d successfully managed to file away— stored in a safety vault in a little corner of your head that need not be reopened. But just meeting him— talking to him directly when you’ve never even dared to before— brought a rusty crowbar to that vault, mercilessly ripping it apart.

Having cancelled your off day, the car ride to your office building is spent thinking about how to scrape up a case to defend the bastard you thought you’d finally been freed from eight years ago. The bastard who’d made the last two years of high school a literal level hell of dread and desperation.

Even for Nalkkeutta, this has got to be the worst kind of torture anyone could ask for.

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline). © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

[applecrispy]

Oct. 2 ; Begging

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Male! Reader x Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games)

HEADS UP!

Second Kinktober prompt, set! Enjoy this drabble

Ended up being a bit sweeter and not too 'begging' as the prompt said, but hey! There's always another chance to re-write this after kinktober!

Also, ignore the fact I haven't posted day one yet ajdhkcjks I'll probably post it later since I'm a tad stuck on it.

And how out of practice I am in writing- but I swear, all my thirsts will (hopefully) get better overtime!

▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂

Finnick moans, his hands claw at the kitchen counter top as his boyfriend pounds into him from behind. He aches a bit, but god it's amazing and worth it all.

He had teased (Y/n) earlier today, he was in the mood, and seems like (Y/n) was as well after having Finnick drop to his knees and suck him off from under their dinning table. He wouldn't admit it straight up, but Finnick has been itching for his lover's touch since a few days ago when (Y/n) had returned from his trip to District 13 to check in. The kiss they shared at the station, Finnick liked it a bit too much, maybe he missed (Y/n)'s lips against his, the gentle touch on his sides, how he didn’t push him-

"(Y/n)- baby, fuck!" Finnick chokes out, another moan leaving him.

His chest felt cold from being pressed against their marble counter, but (Y/n) simply continued to piston into him. A hand gently holding his thigh up to the side, granting him a new angle, and Finnick felt his legs shake, and at some point he's pinned to the counter. He can barely keep himself up on the floor, and (Y/n) seems to notice because Finnick yelps briefly as he's flipped over and he's now with his back to the counter, staring up at (Y/n) as he hikes his legs up. Now presented with a canvas, Finnick reaches up and wraps his arms around his boyfriend's back, moaning as he tries to bite the noises back by biting his bottom lip.

His hair is disheveled, messy, and not in the usual styled and seductive manner that his ex-stylists used to fix it into, but rather into something raw and honest. His fingers draw down (Y/n)'s back as he shudders and soon sputters on a noise and breath.

"Another- inside, please-" Finnick begs quietly, he doesn’t care how he aches faintly from the past three orgasms he's already had which have stolen all the air from him, he needs another load inside of him. One more.

(Y/n) smiles slightly, both love and pure unadulterated adoration, and he leans down to groan into Finnick's ear "You want another inside? And here I was thinking of pulling out and finishing all over your thighs instead... why so desperate?" He teases, and Finnick scoffs as much as he can before he breaks into a choppy whimper mixed with a moan "I- Oh right there... There! Nail right there!" He can't help but purr out, and when (Y/n)'s thrusts slow and intentionally miss, Finnick is digging his face involuntarily into (Y/n)'s neck "Please- please please... So good, please, inside. Another, right... right tHE-" his words are cut off and hit a high as he throws his head back, and if it weren't for the gentle hand on the back fo his head that stops the movement by catching his head and curling a hand into his hair, Finnick would've slammed his head open. But he's too lost to properly adore the action, instead he only lets out a heavy, and noisey high pitched moan.

(Y/n) had shifted his thrusts, and was now thoroughly fucking into him, right into his prostate as he had asked, and the tease just chuckles breathily.

"There?"

"Yes... Yes! Please inside, inside." His last few words mold into messy shapes and noises, still coherent in a sense, but debaunched with his ecstasy. He lets out another softer whimper, and Finnick swears this man is the only one who has been able to reduce him to these honest words, begs, and noises. He's a mess, but shit it's so nice.

It doesn't take too much longer, and (Y/n) gives a small tug to Finnick's hair, reeling his mind back to quickly ask for honest confirmation "Inside?" And Finnick can't help how he begs.

"YES! Inside, inside, please- please (Y/n), need it. Please, need to feel it, feel you-" and Finnick is cut off with a yelp and moan as his hips are grabbed and he's pulled down to be plush against (Y/n)'s hips. He shudders as a weak orgasm leaves him, untouched, oversensitive, and the feeling of being filled and pumped with a orgasm once more in him, Finnick lets the fingers he hadn’t noticed that dug down (Y/n)'s back fall lax.

He lets his expression drop, content as he bathes in the after glow, breathing in heavily as he lets out weak little noises. He gently holds onto (Y/n) as his partner seems just as breathless as he is, pulling back to smile down at him as Finnick feels his heart briefly flutter at how he looks at him.

"Seems like you've missed me." And Finnick groans in complaint and jokingly tries to shove (Y/n) away with a little tired grin on his own face "Oh piss off!" He scoffs out a playful laugh despite how breathless it sounds, quickly diving in to kiss (Y/n) once more in something sweeter.

Yeah, he had missed him.

[sleepingdeath-light]

What would PV be like as a pillow princess? 🤔

Terribly squirmy, anxious, and flustered beyond belief — not used to having his pleasure prioritised and trying meekly to convince his partner to let him return the favour or to swap places with him entirely so he can take care of them instead. The anxiety goes away the more time goes by (and the more fucked-out he gets), but he will remain relatively squirmy and deeply red in the face throughout no matter how much reassurance he gets lol

[its-gjera]

Re-watching Jaiden and Roier's QSMP streams and I can't stop thinking about how fiercely Bobby loved Jaiden.

Bobby, the most violent and chaotic egg on the island, would behave like an absolute sweetheart whenever his mother was around. Toning down his thirst for action and chaos for her sake

Like how Bobby usually punches players so that they pay attention to his signs, all except for Jaiden.

From how he punched her once and immediately regretted it and apologized.

Taking out mobs that get even remotely close to her.

Bobby drawing his gun whenever anyone posed a threat to Jaiden (Such as when Quackity demanded to be taken to her) and even threatened Spreen after he stole some stuff from their home.

Pointing his gun at Mariana whenever he made fun of her (Jokingly of course)

Catching hummingbirds and gathering flowers for her.

Asking her if she was ok during the nightmares and constantly reassuring her that he was okay.

Teaching her Spanish and encouraging her to learn more.

Him being visibly excited whenever she logged on and jumping around her in circles whenever he sees her.

How he threw a small tantrum when Roier told him that she wouldn't be coming back for awhile.

Always helped her in whatever she needed.

Bobby would gladly fight anything and anyone as long as it meant his mom was safe. He loved his mamá so much

I miss our mama's boy so much...

[morinuu]

commoner trouble

kyouya x fem!reader (1k words)

black locks fell on kyouya's set of charcoal orbs, his monolids hidden behind his glasses from the angle you were sitting. the couch began to feel uncomfortable, as if something were calling you to stand up and gently take his glasses in your hands, caressing his hair and letting him rest his head on your chest.

his eyes would finally relax and his body would ease in your arms as he'd take deep breaths to finally let go of all the stress that managing a host club and his studies brought him.

he'd sigh and relieve his eyes for a couple of minutes while you caressed him, before inevitably having to end his break and return to work.

he would. in your fantasies.

you sat in the host club's purple couch, uncomfortably staring at your classmate who was writing something on his laptop on a desk not too far away from the rest of the hosts. this was your routine.

you'd go to the club after classes, sit there for some minutes, waiting and waiting for your turn to try and make an appointment, but there was always some type of shitty excuse from the man.

"our hosts have different price ranges, you wouldn't be able to afford an appointment with me, ms. y/n." you didn't ask how he knew of your financial matters.

"i'm afraid we're all booked the entire week." his voice echoed almost void of all emotion, before he turned to another girl who wanted to re-schedule with a smile on his face.

"our prices went up this week." they hadn't, but you wouldn't know since he never actually told you the prices at all.

one stupid excuse after another and another - and you finally stopped looking for a logical explanation for his hostility. 'it's fine, you'll get your turn one day.' you told yourself each time.

you didn't ask for much really, just an appointment with ootori kyouya like every other client of his. but you hadn't considered the difference between you and them - class.

in all honestly, at first, kyouya had been indifferent to the new honour student of ouran, until he found her staring at him shamelessly throughout their classes together. he figured she'd stop soon, probably just fascinated by his looks.

but it's been four months and you won't give up.

it's not like you're harassing him. you keep your distance in class as not to make others notice, you don't ask for his help in subjects where you could seriously use it - mainly german - and you don't approach him during lunch either.

just at the host club, where you were allowed to ask for his attention as long as you paid a fee. it wasn't unfair or a difficult request, just some tea and a conversation would quench your thirst to talk to the man, to actually engage in an intelligent conversation with him.

but alas, not only did your wallet have limitations, so did kyouya's patience.

he found you... unsophisticated. vulgar, maybe improper?

he didn't express his distaste for your clothes, which were trying to replicate a male ouran school dress code since you didn't even own a yellow dress. your black trousers and white dress shirt barely looked like they were of similiar material, because they weren't. your worn out sneakers hurt his eyes when they stood out against all the neat and polished pointy dress shoes of every other student.

to his elegant and privileged world respective, you were nothing but a pitiful woman, treated like charity by the school so the public can say 'the suoh family cares for the sad common folk!'

he didn't even stop to consider how similiar you could've been to haruhi, because haruhi - as much as he refused to admit it - was a dear friend. she was nothing like you, surely. she wasn't unkept, she was always groomed and wore the uniform that she'd been given.

no, your eyes from across the room looked nothing like haruhi's. yours expressed pure admiration for a man who never bothered to say hello unless he had to.

but he'd warmed up to the other commoner, so you two must live differently.

because your neighbourhood is much sketchier than the quiet area the fujioka's lived in. your clothes are much more worn out than haruhi's, much more washed too.

but it's not like you're apart of the club or their clientele (that one's because of him) so he can't check on your life much. it's not like he cares to check either, you're just unpleasant and he blames it on your wallet. surely that's what's ticking him off.

the minutes were passing and he knew he'd have to stand up and kick you out once more, like every day you came by the club. only this time, just as he raised his head to look at you and approach you again, you'd already started walking to the exit.

what? how come?

it didn't matter, you left on your own. maybe it was a sign that after four whole months you'd stop requesting him. he turned his attention back to his laptop, not wanting to go through the trouble to check if you were really gone.

until a couple minutes later he saw a hand slam down on his small table, with some 10,000 yen bills below the hand's fingers. his gorgeous, wide, gentle, doe-like perplexed eyes found yours in a matter of seconds and his breath hitched at your determined facial expression.

"i'd like to book an appointment for ootori kyouya this thursday." you muttered a bit nervously, as if you hadn't quoted the same line over and over since the beginning of the school year.

just as he want to reject you, you pointed to the money on the table. "it's enough. i know it is. and i know you're free." your tongue played in your mouth and you looked away, intimidated by the eye contact.

he didn't know how hard you'd worked just to save up barely enough money for an appointment. how hard you tried to keep up with your studies, your exploitative part time job and your housing bills. you were embarrassed at how desperate you were just for simple chat, but it didn't matter.

because kyouya ootori had finally accepted a 35 minute appointment with y/n l/n, and you couldn't be happier.

divider by @saradika

[fanfictiongirlie]

Twilight: Some Soulmate - Chapter Two

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x Reader

Description: Y/N a member of the Cullen family is imprinted on by one of the wolves, she is shocked, he is shocked. She is struggling with drinking animal blood over human, and he is disgusted by a vampire for a soulmate… But maybe it could work..?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1,794

I spent the next week, being moody, I didn't go to school. I was so angry at the world. I found my soulmate, if I didn't have my stupid gift I wouldn't of known. And it's been a week since, and my imprinter hasn't tried to find me. Vampires and Wolfs were enemies. Whoever he was probably hated me already. 

And yeah it hurt. I wanted to know who he was. This could be my chance at happiness. 

I decided to get out of my pajamas and leave the house, I headed straight to the hospital. I walked through the place smiling and not letting anyone stop me. I walked into Carlisle's office, he was sitting there smiling. 

I saw on the chair next to his desk. 

"Carlisle, you are my longest and most important friend, you're my brother and I love you" I smiled sweetly.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled at me.

"You want my help?" He asked I nodded. "That obvious?"

"I can't change the treaty Y/N" He signed. 

"I just want to meet him" I whispered. 

"I know, but I can't break the treaty, and unless Sam comes to the hospital and I have no way of speaking to him" Carlisle said I could hear how upset he was in his voice.

"He hasn't even tried to find me" I sniffled. 

"I am very sorry Y/N, if Sam does come in, I'll ask"

I nodded and thanked him and left the hospital. Maybe if I went back to the forest. 

Just as I was about to leave the hospital, I hear Carlisle say "The school called, show up"

I rolled my eyes and left the hospital, I walked to my motorbike and drove to the school. I could Probably make my last class, history. I shared history with Jasper, which I loved because we're both old enough to have lived through most of what they're teaching us. 

I walked into the school, it was still lunchtime, maybe ten minutes left until class.

"Hey Y/N!" I turned around to see Mike. I quietly groaned. 

"Hello Mike, I was just making my way to my siblings"

"Yes, well maybe I thought you had re-considered prom"

"Nope, still not going, maybe you should ask someone else" I smile, walking away quickly. 

I entered the cafeteria and quickly saw my siblings, I walked over and sat with them, smiling. 

"Mike Newton asked me out again" 

"Maybe it'd take your mind off-"

I stopped Emmett finishing his sentence, and shook my head. 

"I felt him imprinting on me, it felt so good. It felt like happiness, it felt like never thirsting over a human again, it felt complete. How can I ever love someone else?" I asked, standing up, just before the bell rang.

"Are you saying you're in love with him?" Alice asked. 

"No, I don't even know him, and it seems like he doesn't want to know me" I signed, and walked away. Jasper trailing after me. Luckily, Jasper jumped up a few grades in history. Being a know it all does that.

I smiled when I felt a calmness wash over me. 

"Thank you Jasper" 

~~~~~~~

I spent every evening after school in the forest, trying to maybe find him again. I walked along the treaty line, for hours but nothing. He didn't show up. I was starting to feel as if I should give up. 

I walked back home, rather than run. 

Esme was waiting for me with open arms, I smiled and hugged her. 

"We're heading out to play baseball, want to join?" She asked, I thought about it, I wasn't much of a sports person. I nodded though, I could watch. 

I traveled in Rosalie's car with her and made sure to bring a book with me. We reached the field as the rain started. I smelt Bella before I saw her.

I smiled at her, before sitting and leaning against the car and beginning my book. 

The game began shortly after, I watched every now and again, it was a treat to watch my family play. It made me feel human, strangely. I started to read again, getting lost in my book. I was reading Peter Pan again, I loved it so much. 

"Y/N!" Edward yelled I looked up, to see them gathered in a group, all wearing a worried expression. I jumped up and sped to them. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"I saw them coming, three vampires" Alice replied. 

I didn't realise the problem until I remembered Bella.

"Do we have time to get her out of here?" I asked, Alice, shook her head and pointed to the trees. Suddenly three vampires emerged. They were kind of beautiful, but I had already decided I had a crush on the redhead. I wasn't normally into women, though there was this time in the 70s. Edward gave me a look. I grinned back. 

Carlisle was speaking to them about our permanent home. 

"How about we play more ball?" I ask when I notice how the blonde was staring intently at Edward. Edward was acting strange. He needed to chill.

"Yes, how about three more players?" Asked one of the vampires. 

"Some of us were just leaving, so you're more than welcome" Carlisle spoke. 

My family and vampires got ready to start the game again until the blonde turned around eyes on Bella.

"You brought a snack" He spoke. 

We all, including me, bared our teeth and jumped in front of Bella.

"She's with us!" Carlisle sneered. 

Quickly, Edward took Bella to the car and we followed. Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, and I drove back to our house. 

"What's happening?" I asked. 

"I'm not sure Y/N" Esme spoke. 

We reached the house and the others were there already. 

"James is a tracker" Edward started "He wants Bella and he thinks its a game" 

"What do we do?" Emmett asked. 

~~~~~~~~~~

I stayed behind, at home, to look after Charlie. I had met him a few times, him being the chief. I walked up to his door and knocked. 

He answered he looked broken. After what happened with him and Bella I understood. 

"Hello Chief Swan" I smiled, and then realised I had no idea what I'd say to get him to invite me in. 

"Sorry Y/N can I help you?" He asked. I noticed there were more heartbeats inside. 

"Bella told me she left something of mine in her room, could I get it please?" I asked I needed to check if James or the other two were here.

"Yeah that's fine," He said and let me inside. 

I walked into the living room to see two people. An old man in a wheelchair and a teenage boy. I smiled and went to walk upstairs. 

"Who's this Charlie?" The man asked, his eyes glaring at me. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, he hated me, I could feel his hatred beaming at me. 

"This is Y/N Cullen" Charlie answered "She's really nice, Bella spoke highly of her" 

She did? I smiled and walked upstairs to Bella's room. I couldn't smell the vampires. It only smelt like Edward and Alice. I grabbed a random book from Bella's bookshelf and locked the window. I walked downstairs to see Charlie and the man talking. 

The boy smiled at me. 

"Hey I'm Jacob" He held his hand out to shake. 

"Hey I'm Y/N, not big on touching" I giggled, I could feel the heat radiating off him, touching my hand would probably freeze him. 

"I've not seen you at school" I add. 

"I go to school on the reservation" He answered. Oh. Where I couldn't go. 

He might even know the wolf. But I couldn't exactly ask 'Hey do you know this random wolf I saw' Wait...

"Hey, do you know Sam Uley?" I asked.

"Why do you want Sam Uley?" The man in the wheelchair asked. 

Oh no. What do I say?

"I need to ask him something" I smiled as sweetly as I could. 

The man sneered. 

"Sam wants nothing to do with you" 

Ouch. Okay.

"Well bye, Charlie!" I smiled and rushed out of the house. I was never going to meet him. Unless I walked onto their territory. I' probably die straight away. Though I did read that the person that a wolf imprinted on couldn't be harmed. Though it said, person. I was far from a person. 

I ran home, thinking, and thinking about crossing the line. I needed too. No one was home. I could do it.

I ran to my room quickly, I checked how I looked. 

I didn't normally care, but potentially meeting your soulmate makes you wanna look nice. 

I looked in the mirror, I needed to cut my hair, it was almost at my waist. I changed into some clean clothes, nothing special, a black pair of jeans and a grey top which said 'I'd rather be sleeping' it made me smirk. I decided to put some makeup on. Something to make me look less pale, and add a bit of colour to my skin, also to hide the black around my eyes. I looked pretty. My amber eyes would probably freak him out, and I've heard vampires don't smell good to wolves. 

Nothing I can do about that. I raced out of my home, just in case my family returned. I ran until I reached the border. I felt so nervous. I took one little step and yes, I did it. 

I was in the Quileute territory. Last time I was on this side, we made the treaty. To a completely different set of wolves, saying that that man in the wheelchair did look familiar. Maybe he was one when he was younger, it was so many years ago.  

"What are you doing here leech!" A voice yelled at me, I jumped back so I was over the line. 

"I'm sorry, I was just looking for someone!" I stuttered. The man looked at me, he looked angry, like he could turn into a wolf any second angry. Not good. Was this Sam?

"Are you Sam Uley?" I asked he nodded. 

"Oh" Was all he said. Why? I was so confused. 

"Maybe you should come with me," He said in a stern voice. 

"Why?" I asked.

"Because Paul imprinted on you, and it's hurting him because he won't allow himself to feel for you" He admitted.

"Paul" I whispered, his name was Paul, I smiled slightly, even thinking about his name made me smile. 

"You can trust me," Sam said, I looked at him. I could trust him. I didn't quite understand how he felt about me, he didn't like me. But I knew he wouldn't hurt me. 

"Okay, I'll come with you" Time to meet my mate...

Previous Part - Next Part

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Please interact with this chapter.

The chapter will contain inappropriate language and explicit adult content. Minors should not interact.

five

SIX (+18)

You fell asleep with Lucius still inside you. He had carried you to his cell, holding you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. You do not remember exactly when sleep claimed you, only that now you are waking, still enveloped in his embrace. His cock is throbbing for you.

His warmth surrounds you, his steady breath fanning over your skin. The faint scent of him lingers—a mix of sweat, water, and something undeniably his. For a moment, you simply remain there, pressed against him, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breathing. He appears to be peacefully asleep until you try to pull away from him. He wakes up, you can feel it, his breathing getting heavier. His lips touch your neck, while one of his hands spreads your legs, holding one up and placing the fingers of his other hand touch your clit. Light circular movements on your pussy making it feel wet, biting your lip holding back any sound.

There are no words as you feel him bite your neck as he moves, thrusting his cock into you. You feel your leg go limp as he holds it up, feeling him stimulate you as he thrusts his cock into you. It's slow, sweaty and hot. He licks your neck right above where he bit you while you hold on to his ass, feeling the pleasure of feeling him thrusting his cock in you. You feel his balls slapping against your pussy. You feel your cum running down your leg, soon feeling Hanno grunt close to your ear as he cums inside you.

For a moment, it is as if both of you are trying to catch your breath. Hanno’s hands release your leg gently as he withdraws from you. You climb atop his body, your fingers tracing the lines of his face, brushing over his lips as if memorizing every detail. He takes your fingers into his mouth, sucking them with the same hunger he had shown moments before. Tilting his face to the side, you slide your fingers from his lips, pulling him toward you for another kiss.

"It feels as though the gods are blessing me," he murmurs against your lips.

Your eyes meet his. "What do you mean by that, Hanno?" you ask, shifting slightly atop him, feeling your bodies press together.

"Being with you like this, before I am thrown into that arena, feels like a gift from the gods," he says, cupping your cheeks before placing a brief kiss on your lips.

"Do not fool yourself, Hanno. Even if the gods are blessing you, I am still angry at your recklessness. The gods will not protect you if you act as foolishly as you did before. The emperors will have your head displayed for all of Rome to see. At the very least, they will have your mother’s husband kill you," you warn, your tone grave as you gaze at him.

"Then you need not worry. Next time I wish to kill someone, I will make sure they die," Hanno replies.

You move off him, adjusting yourself to leave. Frustration tightens in your chest—he is playing with fire, and you know he could meet his death in pursuit of vengeance. You do not want Acacius to die, and the thought of Hanno attempting to kill Geta or Caracalla could only end in disaster.

"I can see how tense you are," Hanno remarks as he rises, moving toward you. His hands find your back, his touch firm yet soothing.

"You seem to have a death wish, which makes sense if you are so desperate to reunite with your late wife," you turn to look him in the eye, searching for any trace of his true intentions. Perhaps he truly wishes for death, just to see Arishat again.

"I loved my wife, but I do not want to die, Y/N. If there is one thing I want, it is to live—if possible, by your side," he breathes against your skin before pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver through you.

You turn and press a soft kiss to Hanno’s lips. You do not know if you will stand by his side in the future, and you have no desire to prolong this conversation.

"Try to stay alive," you say before finishing dressing and leaving. The truth is, you should already be with Emperor Geta. You make your way swiftly to the imperial palace, arriving without delay. Slipping through the corridors, you reach your quarters, feeling an urgent need to cleanse yourself after the events of the night.

There is a designated place near the chambers of Emperors Geta and Caracalla where their companions may bathe. The cool water soothes your body, though a dull ache lingers from the night’s passion. As you dress, the wet strands of your hair brush against your neck, sending a small shiver through you. Despite the soreness, you are undeniably pleased with the night that has passed.

"You deceitful harlot!" The enraged voice of Emperor Caracalla rings out as he storms toward you, gripping a sword in his hand. You barely have time to react before he swings at you. Instinctively, you dodge, heart pounding as you struggle to make sense of what is happening.

"Emperor Caracalla, what are you doing?" you cry out, narrowly avoiding another strike.

"Will you use my brother as you used your husband?" he roars, eyes burning with fury as he lunges again, his blade slicing through the air.

"It takes great courage to accuse someone of a crime you yourself committed, Emperor," you respond, feeling fury rise within you.

"My husband died because he was entangled with you. You took him as your lover, and when you tired of him, you discarded him," you continue, stepping closer despite the risk of being struck. Caracalla's eyes seem unfocused, as though he is somewhere else entirely.

"You never loved him. You have always been a harlot, a whore who lies with men already spoken for, so you may never be bound to anyone," he mutters, stumbling forward, his voice unsteady as he babbles incoherent words.

"Is that what you tell yourself to justify what you have done?" you shout, locking eyes with him. Caracalla looks as though he is on the verge of tears, likely reliving the brutal death of your husband—the spectacle of it, the merciless cruelty.

"What I have done?" Caracalla suddenly begins to laugh, even as tears streak down his face. His laughter grows louder, as though he finds your words amusing.

"You mean, what you have done. You turned Augustus against me—he was mine! I know it was your plan all along, to make him abandon me, forcing my hand so that I would send him to die in the arena. And as if that were not enough, you now lie with the very man who killed him," Caracalla exclaims, lifting his sword toward you.

"I do not know what you are talking about," you reply, lost in confusion. What does he mean? Whom is he speaking of?

"General Marcus Justus Acacius—the man who took you for himself. Did he not tell you? Of course he did not," Caracalla sneers. "But your beloved general was the one truly responsible for your husband's death. Augustus was wounded, but not dead, when he left the arena that day. It was my brother, Emperor Geta, who gave the order for Augustus to be slain. And Acacius… he is the one who saw it done." Caracalla finishes speaking with an air of bitter disappointment, as though it pains him to admit that his own brother ordered the death of the man he loved. A sickening feeling churns in your stomach, as though a dagger has been driven into your very soul. The weight of his words is unbearable. Could it be true?

"Augustus was the best man I ever knew. He saw you, Caracalla, as someone with whom he could be himself. But he knew that by your side, he was doomed. Do not blame me for the fact that he chose me," you say, your voice firm, laced with anger. Acacius or not, Caracalla allowed Augustus to be killed.

You see the fury rise in his eyes before you feel it—his hand striking your face with such force that the taste of blood fills your mouth. Your cheek burns, but before you can react, the cold steel of his sword presses against your neck. You do not move. You are certain this is your end. But then—

"Emperor, if you intend to do anything with that sword, know that it will be the last thing you ever do," a voice cuts through the silence. You recognize it instantly. General Acacius. Looking forward, you see him standing tall, his blade raised, the tip aimed at Caracalla’s back.

"Come to rescue your damsel in distress?" Caracalla sneers, his sword still pointed at you. You feel the blade graze your skin, a sharp sting blooming across your neck.

"You do realize I could have your head for the mere act of threatening to kill me?" he continues, his gaze locked onto yours.

But you cannot respond. Not when Acacius stands before you. Not when the thought that he may have played a role in your husband's death twists like a knife in your chest. It does not seem just. It does not seem real.

"You will have to remain alive to pass judgment on my reckless act, dear Emperor Caracalla," General Acacius replies, his voice steady. Then, his eyes meet yours—eyes that once inspired trust but now hold only uncertainty.

"So be it, General. I shall leave the whore to the murderer of her husband," Caracalla spits before dropping his sword to the ground. As he turns away, he spits at Acacius' face in disdain before striding off.

Moments from now, you will undoubtedly be surrounded by guards eager to avenge their emperor’s humiliation. "Y/N..." Acacius speaks softly, almost tenderly.

"No. Do not say anything," you cut him off, stepping forward and pressing your hand against his lips.

You fear that if he speaks—whether truth or lie—you will be unable to focus on what must be done. Then, without hesitation, you strike him. Your fist collides with his face with all the force you can muster, leaving a gash and a look of utter shock in his eyes.

"By the gods, Y/N!" he exclaims, clearly bewildered.

"Raise your sword against me. When the guards arrive, tell them you saw me and Emperor Caracalla in a confrontation. Say you came to his aid and I attacked you. Emperor Geta has little trust in his brother’s words—use that to your advantage. Arrest me, be the hero. I will craft my own excuse for my dispute with Caracalla." You pick up Acacius’ sword and press the blade against your palm, allowing your blood to stain it.

"What are you scheming?" he asks, his confusion evident. He reaches for your arm, his touch uncharacteristically gentle—but you pull away.

"Saving you. Not that you deserve it, but I will not owe you anything," you answer coldly, bracing yourself for what is to come.

"I cannot let you take this risk for me," Acacius murmurs, hesitating as if torn between duty and something unspoken.

"Do not mistake my actions, General. If I discover that you have lied to me all these years, I will claim your head myself," you declare, your fury unwavering. Acacius does not speak. He does not even attempt to deny it. Then—

"General Acacius!" Emperor Geta's voice roars through the halls. When you take notice, Geta and several guards arrive at the scene. Acacius does as you instructed, pretending to threaten you with his sword.

"What is happening here?" Geta demands, his gaze shifting between you and Acacius.

"Y/N was in a dispute with Emperor Caracalla. I intervened and managed to separate them. The emperor left, claiming he would seek assistance," General Acacius reports, though his expression betrays a hint of unease, as if the words feel wrong even to him.

"Bring chains for the healer. She will spend some time in a cell to reflect on her actions," Geta orders, his voice firm. The guards quickly disperse in search of restraints, leaving only you, Geta, and Acacius.

"General, grant me a moment alone with the healer," Geta instructs, motioning for Acacius to lower his sword. Acacius hesitates, his eyes locking onto yours with something resembling regret.

"As you wish, Emperor Geta," he replies, finally lowering his blade and stepping away—though it is clear that leaving is the last thing he desires. And then, only you and Geta remain.

TO BE CONTINUED...