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d-targaryenshoe · 3 months

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Sweetest Affaire - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 1132

Summary: Two lovers are not precisely acceptable when one is wed, would you not agree?

You were certain that you had been the luckiest woman alive when you had married Anthony Bridgerton.

His smile could light up a room, and his eyes seemed to hold a thousand secrets.

He was charming and witty, and even after all these years, you still felt a flutter in your stomach whenever he touched you.

But there was a part of you that ached, a part that felt unfulfilled. You knew that he was still seeing Sienna.

Your marriage had been a love match, of that you were certain, but Anthony seemed to think that he could have his way do so too.

He believed that he could love you and Sienna at the same time and that you would both be content with your arrangement.

You, however, weren't not so sure. You knew in your heart that you couldn't compete with the other women, not when Sienna was everything that you weren't.

Your bed had grown cold over the years, your passionate nights a distant memory.

Anthony spent more time with Sienna than he did with you, and it hurt.

It hurt deep in your soul to see the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

It was as if he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else that he truly loved you.

You tried to be understanding, to accept the situation for what it was, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

You loved Anthony with all your heart, but you couldn't help but feel like you were nothing more than his suitable wife.

The thought of losing him to Sienna, of watching him walk down the aisle with another woman, was enough to make you want to scream.

You knew that you needed to do something, but you didn't know what.

All you could do was pray that fate would intervene, that something would change and that Anthony would finally see you for who you truly were.

The only woman he had ever loved and the only woman he would ever need.

Meanwhile, Anthony continued to lead a double life. He loved you both but in different ways.

Sienna was his passion, his fire.

She made him feel alive, made him feel like he could conquer the world. With her, he felt free and uninhibited.

You, on the other hand, were his comfort, his anchor. You were the woman he could rely on, the woman he could come home to.

You were the mother of his children, the woman who knew him better than anyone else.

He tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing, that he could make you both happy, but deep down, he knew that he was lying to himself.

He was in denial, refusing to accept the truth of his feelings.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. The tension between you both grew thicker with each passing moment.

You tried your best to ignore the signs, to pretend that everything was fine, but you could feel Anthony pulling away from you.

You knew that he was preparing himself for a future without you, and it hurt you more than anything else ever had.

You wanted to confront him, to demand the truth, but you were afraid of what might happen if you did. You were afraid of losing him completely.

One night, as you both argued about some trivial matter in your bedroom, Anthony said something so cruel, so hurtful that it cut you to the core.

He accused you of being selfish, of only caring about yourself, of not understanding the depth of his love for Sienna.

The words stung like a slap across the face, and for the first time in your marriage, you felt truly defeated.

You looked up at Anthony, tears streaming down your cheeks, and you knew that this was the end.

You couldn't take anymore.

With strength you didn't know you possessed, you pushed past him and walked out of the room.

You didn't stop until you reached the safety of your own chamber. There, you collapsed onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably.

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders as if you had finally found the courage to face the truth.

You knew that you couldn't go on living this way, pretending that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't.

You needed to do something, anything, to make Anthony see the error of his ways.

You had been ignoring him for months.

Anthony began to rummage through your memories, desperate to understand where it all went wrong.

He recalled the countless missed dinners and moments, the times he had chosen business over quiet nights in front of the fireplace.

He realized he had ignored the very foundation of love and companionship you had built.

Determined to make amends for his shortcomings, Anthony concocted a plan, ever since he left Sienna.

He decided to gather you and Eloise, who held an opinion highly valued by both of you, for a heartfelt conversation.

Anthony wanted to beg for forgiveness, to show you how sorry he truly was.

Eloise, a woman of immense grace and wisdom, agreed to mediate your meeting.

She understood the depth of Anthony's guilt when it came to Sienna, but she also harbored resentment towards her brother.

She saw how you had suffered silently, and the anger welled up within her, making it difficult to suppress.

You were gathered in the sitting room, a pot of steaming tea placed between them.

Anthony's palms were clammy with nervousness as his eyes met yours for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"I cannot begin to express how sorry I am, y/n," Anthony pleaded, his voice laced with genuine remorse.

"I see now how I have neglected you, and I swear to make things right, forgive me."

Your eyes brimming with unshed tears, regarded him with a mix of sadness and apprehension.

You had built walls around your heart, walls that had shielded you from the pain of feeling unloved.

But Anthony's request broke through those barriers, stirring up a mix of hope and trepidation within you.

Eloise, unable to hide her anger towards her brother, interjected sharply.

"Anthony, by all gods, you have caused Mother and Y/n an immense heartache. Your words alone are not enough. You must prove your love through actions, day in and day out. Only then will forgiveness be earned."

Anthony, aware of his sister's anger and knowing she had a point, nodded earnestly.

"You're right, El. I have taken y/n's love for granted for far too long. I am willing to do whatever it takes to regain her trust and rebuild the love we once had."

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sloppysequinz · 5 months

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I'm making alcoholic mommy tops a thing

Concept: alcoholic former trophy wife gets you in her grasp. Maybe you're working service at some charity event and she stumbles up to you, in a too tight party dress that used to fit. She's already sloppy drunk but you can't bring yourself to cut her off. You watch her down highballs like water as she points out her husband flirting with younger women across the room, but she doesn't care as long as the booze as free. You blush as she asks for a shot and hand it over, confessing you've never seen someone drink like her. She asks, would you like to learn?

You start going over to her enormous fancy empty house. There's more booze in her liquor cabinet than you thought any human could drink. She's already tipsy when she starts your lessons, you spot a couple wine bottles in the recycling. That doesn't stop her being an excellent teacher. How to mix drinks, how to make drinks that go down smooth, how to take shots gracefully. By the end of your first lesson you can hardly stand, but she's going strong. She laughs drunkenly, too loud, and gets you into an opulent guest bedroom to sleep it off. She's unsteady and clumsy but so soft and warm and you can't help but nuzzle into her, which makes her laugh again.

At your third lesson, you're uninhibited and coherent enough to confess how wet it makes you to drink like this, and to watch her get drunk. That lesson ends with her holding a bottle of wine to your lips, letting you chug desperately as she slides her hands into your panties and circles your soaked clit, slurring her words as she coos over how your unfocused eyes cross at the sensation.

From there, things start to slide further and further out from under you. More substances start to appear--first a gentle request to smoke with her before your lesson, then an enthusiastic discussion of party drugs that is followed by an offering of molly you just can't say no to. Xanny isn't scary honey, it just makes the booze hit harder. No, darling, cocaine won't hurt; you'll just have the energy to drink more.

And every time you let her win you over, her hands are all over you. Groping your tits as you drunkenly mewl at the feeling, sliding her fingers into your cunt, convincing you to clumsily lap at her pussy as she finishes her bottle of wine, toys and strap ons to fill your soaking wet holes. The more fucked up she is, the more she wants to do to you, and the more fucked up she wants to get you.

After a few months, you're living in her guest bedroom, happy on a steady diet of booze and pills and whatever else Mommy wants to give you. Neither of you are ever sober, but your brain has melted so far that even Mommy can control you. You're a fucked up eager little pet who caters to her every perverse desire.

#intox #intox kink #intoxication kink #intox play #intoxication play #my writing

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athenagranted · 1 day

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eddie diaz is so fucking pretty all the time but drunk, happy, free, joyous, uninhibited eddie is just. he's radiant. he's gorgeous. he's the most beautiful thing i've ever set eyes on 🥹

#rae.txt #911 spoilers

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stalkerofthegods · 5 months

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Dionysus & Bacchus cheat sheet deep dive

Signs he's reaching out • smelling wine all of a sudden, craving wine, You feel a twinge of madness, dreams with his attributes with him, seeing references of him everywhere

Herbs •psalakanthos plant, Grapes and their vines, Figs, Bay laurel, Barley, Pine, Pomegranate, Fennel, apples, berries, weed, Silver Fir, Bindweed, poppy, wheat and hops leafs, wildflowers, pine cones, Apple seeds, Blazing star. I think he would like Cinnamon, mint, feverfew (happiness), Pepper, basil, chives, horseradish (courage), orange, lemongrass, marjoram (insight), vanilla, sorrel, cinnamon (love)

Animals• Oxen and wild animals, asses, Leopards, Panther, Cheetah, serpents, rams, dolphins, tigers, lynx, panthers, goats, bats, griffons, bulls

Colors •purple, green, gold, Red, Black, White.

Patron of• fruit and intoxitation, Parties, Festivities, Banquets, Drinking, Bacchic Revelry, Madness, Bacchic Frenzy, Insanity, Hallucination, Homosexuality, Effeminacy, Cross-dressing, Forest Wilderness, Wild vegetation, Predatory big cats, Reincarnation, The path to Elysium, Comedy and Tragedy Plays, Playwrites, Actors, bartenders, the arts, non-binary people.

Curses• violence, and sickness, Destructive insanity, madness

Blessings• pleasure and fun, Religious frenzy (in the orgiastic cults), Ecstasy, Afterlife in Elysium (paradise), getting a bigger friend group, charismatic going up, getting a romantic partner.

Diety of• wine-making, orchards, fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, theatre, partying, Epiphany, weddings, death, sacrifice, sexuality, dancing, immortality, and reincarnation, uninhibited freedom, as well as the subversion of the powerful, ecstasy, and abandon, swamps and marshes.

Crystals• Amethyst, grape agate, Garnet, Ruby, deep red stones, tiger eye, serpentine, leopard jasper, amber, green opal or jade, carnelian, rose quartz (someone had it on their alter for him, so I added it here.), bloodstone, sugilite, purple fluorite, ametrine lepidolite

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Zodiac • Taruas

Vows/omans• none

Number• 7

Morals• he is morally ambiguous

Married to• Ariadne

Past lovers• Althaia, Ampelos, Aphrodite, Erigone, Kronois, Pallene, Physokoa, Polymnos.

What he favors in devotees• free-spirited, out-of-the-norm, wild lifestyle, gender fluid, transgender, nonbinary people. People are restricted wanting to become free.

Personality• He brings joy, ecstasy, and merriment, but also delivers "brutal and blinding rage”, he's a very chill guy, many say he is sassy. I met him once, and he respects people's boundaries.

Home• Mount Olympus

Equivalents/most resemblance • Osiris, Hades, Sabazios, Yahweh, Bacchus, Liber, Tammuz, Orotalt, Fufluns, Acan, Jesus.

Epithets• Acratophorus, Ἀκρατοφό.ρος “giver of unmixed wine at Phigaleia in arcadia, Acroreites at Sicyon Adoneus a Latinised form of Adonis and is also used as an epithet for Bacchus, AegobolusΑἰγοβόλος "goat-shooter" at Potniae in Boeoria, Aesymnetes Αἰσυμνήτης “ruler" or "lord" at Aroë and Patrae in Achaea, Agrios Ἄγριος "wild", in Macedonia, Androgynos Ἀνδρόγυνος ”Androgynous” specifically in intercourse referring to the god taking both an active male and a passive female role, Anthroporraistes, Ἀνθρωπορραίστης “man-destroyer" a title of Dionysus at Tenedos, Bassareus, Βασσαρεύς "fox-skin", which item was worn by his cultists in their mysteries. Bougenes, Βουγενής or Βοηγενής “borne by a cow", in the Mysteries of Lerna,

Braetes, Βραίτης "related to beer" at Thrace, Briseus Βρῑσεύς "he who prevails" in Smyrna, Bromios Βρόμιος "roaring” and "roar of thunder" refering to the wind amd primarily relating to the central death/resurrection element of his myths and also the god's transformations into lion and bull and of those who drink alcohol and refers to Dionysus' father, Zeus "the thunderer", Choiropsalasχοιροψάλας “pig-plucker" Greek χοῖρος = "pig"(which was used as a slang term for the female genitalia as A reference to Dionysus's role as a fertility deity), Chthonios Χθόνιος “the subterranean”, Cistophorus Κιστοφόρος "basket-bearer and ivy-bearer" because baskets are sacred to the Dionysus,Dimetor Διμήτωρ "twice-born" which Refers to Dionysus's two births, Dendrites Δενδρίτης "he of the trees" as a fertility god, Dithyrambos Διθύραμβος used at his festivals referring to his premature birth, Eleutherios Ἐλευθέριος “the liberator" also a epithet shared with Eros, Endendros ("he in the tree"), Enorches "with balls" with reference to his fertility, or "in the testicles" in reference to Zeus' sewing the baby Dionysus "into his thigh" which means his testicles used in Samos and Lesbos, Eridromos"good-running" in Nonnus' Dionysiaca, Erikryptos Ἐρίκρυπτος "completely hidden" in Macedonia, Euaster Εὐαστήρ from the cry "euae", Euius (Euios), from the cry "euae" in lyric passages, and in Euripides’ play “the bacche, Lacchus Lακχος a possible epithet which is associated with the Elusinian Mysteries, The name "Iacchus" may come from the Ιακχος (Iakchos) whicj is a hymn sung in honor of Dionysus.

Indoletes, Ἰνδολέτης, meaning slayer/killer of Indians Due to his campaign against the Indians, Isodaetes, Ισοδαίτης, meaning "he who distributes equal portions", cult epithet which is also shared with Helios, Kemilius, Κεμήλιος and kemas: "young deer, pricket",

Liknites "he of the winnowing fan", as a fertility god connected with mystery religions ( a winnowing fan was used to separate the chaff from the grain.)

Palazzo Massimo, Rome, Lenaius, Ληναῖος "god of the wine-press", Lyaeus, or Lyaios Λυαῖος, "deliverer” and "loosener") which refers to him as who releases from care and anxiety,

Lysius, Λύσιος "delivering, releasing" At Thebes there was a temple of Dionysus Lysius, MelanaigisΜελάναιγις "of the black goatskin" at the Apaturia festival,

Morychus Μόρυχος “smeared" in Sicily, because his icon was smeared with wine less at the vintage, Mystes Μύστης "of the mysteries" at Tegea in Arcadia, Nysian Nύσιος according to Philostatus he was called like this by the Ancient indians Most probably, because according to legend he founded the city of Nysa, Oeneus, Οἰνεύς "wine-dark" as god of the wine press, Omadios “flesh-eater", Eusebius writes in Preparation for the gospel that Euelpis of Carystus states that in Chios and Tendos they did a human sacrifice to Dionysus Omadios,

Phallen , (Φαλλήν) (probably "related to the phallus” at Lesbos, Phleus "related to the bloοm of a plant", Peudanor Ψευδάνωρ "false man" referring to his feminine qualities in Macedonia,

Pericionius, Περικιόνιος "climbing the column (ivy)" a name of Dionysus at Thebes, Semeleios or Semeleius or Semeleus an obscure epithet meaning 'He of the Earth' and 'son of Semele' Also “Son of Semele, Iakchus, wealth-giver”,

Skyllitas, Σκυλλίτας “related to the vine-branch" at Kos, Sykites, Συκίτης "related to figs" at Laconia,Taurophagus, Ταυροφάγος “bull eating", Tauros Ταῦρος “a bull", Theoinus, Θέοινος wine-god of a festival in Attica, Τhyiοn, Θυίων "from the festival of Dionysus 'Thyia' (Θυῐα) at Elis", Thyllophorus, Θυλλοφόρος "bearing leaves" at Kos, Dionysus and Zeus absorbs the role of Sabazios (a Thracian/Phrygian deity)

Facts• Dionysus was the last god to enter Olympus, When Dionysus had grown up lady Hera made him into a state of madness so he wandered through many countries of the earth, He was a student of the famous centaur Chiron who taught him how to dance, The common names Dennis and Denise are said to be derived from Dionysus. he hated the sight of an owl

Roots• Ancient Greece, Greek mythology, Mount Pramnos on Ikaria

Offerings • Honey, Meat, Alcohol (especially wine), Fruit, Cakes, Poetry, Songs, Spices (ex- cinnamon), Blood or liquids resembling blood, He thinks those "wine mom" signs that you get in cheap gift shops are hilarious, Grape juice, Intoxicants, Grapes, Olive oil, Apples, Figs, Eggs, Goblets, Curved daggers, Bull horns, Snake skin, Leopard or tiger print objects, Purple candles, Theatre masks, Sexual toys, Percussion instruments, Wine bottles, Fake/toy grapes, Leaves or curls from grapevines, Pine needles, Pinecones, Apple seeds, Bindweed, Wildflowers, Toys photos or art of any big cats, snakes, Hymns, Songs you’ve written, Any art that you create, Any stories that you create, Art, pictures of the comedy, Wine corks, Wine labels, Toy or miniature drums, milk, water from the sea (he has a strong connection with the sea), Decorative beads, party beads, flashy jewelry, Wine glasses, Shot glasses, Corkscrews, Sparkling cider, Grape flavored things, Cheese, hallucinogens, Nips (small alcohol bottles), Bottle opener, Beer/soda tabs, Alcohol bottles with cool labels, Costumes, NatureFig/fig newtonsBull imagery, Donkey imagery, Bones, Antlers, Dead/preserved animals, Hiking gear, Seeds, Concert/festival tickets, Locks of hair, Shaven beard hair, Pride swag, ravagant clothes/clothes that make you feel good.

Devotional • learn about sacred sex, shamanic journeying, responsible entheogen use, and alcohol as a sacrament, read “The Secret History” book, Make a playlist for Him, Dance and sing to your favorite songs or songs you’d think He would like, Throw a feast in His honor, Remembering to take your medication and taking care of your mental health, Support/donate to your local theatre in His name, Be a part of the theatre, Stand up for those that are marginalized, Write stories/plays for Him, Invite Him to watch plays or movies with you (especially comedies or tragedies), Throw parties or attend them, Attend festivals, Attend a wine tasting, Go on wine tours, Attend parades, Masturbate or partake in sexual acts for Him (if you’re comfortable doing so And over 18), Drink alcohol or grape juice, Smoke po, Learn about winemaking, Support local vineyards, Wear wreaths made from ivy, Wear faux leopard or tiger print, Wear the color purple, Pray to Him for things while intoxicated/high, Visit your local winery and participate in a grape-stomp, do some Homebrewing in his honor, Grow a garden in his honor, Make your own ritual tools in his honor, Collect art, do Glamourbombs in his honor, Pretend to be somebody else in his honor, go out to a club in his honor, listen to music in his honor, read in his his mythos, write things for a ritual and write a prayer for him, eat some grapes or have some grape juice or sparkling grape juice (or wine if able and of age), listen to party music, read plays, watch musicals or plays (ex- high school musical, Hamilton), listen to musical soundtracks, learn about the history of theatre, learn about viticulture and vineyards, do things that bring you pleasure, listen to party soundscapes, watch documentaries about any of his sacred animals, Trip intentionally/spiritually, Learn about substance abuse/recovery, Destigamtize drug users, Learn about harm reduction, Make home videos, Write poetry, Act, Dress up, Go to the woods, Dance/sing in the woods, Meditate in the woods, Learn wilderness safety and first aid, Learn what to do when encountering a wild animal, Go off the beaten path, Explore new areas, Pick up litter, Forage, Recycle bottles, Grow fruit, Try new fruits, Have sex (let the partner know beforehand it's in Diyonisus honor, 18+), Masturbate (18+), Have threesomes/swing (ask him before and make sure the other participants know it's in Dionysus's honor, 18+.), Finally, give into that one kink you’ve been ignoring (you know the one, 18+), Learn about consent with partners, Learn how to preserve dead animals, Learn about different life cycles (ex-plants, animals), Learn about immigration in your area, Learn about different cultures, Try foreign foods, Learn a new language, Learn about your ancestry, Help immigrants in your area, Grow your hair out, Keep a Manifest/Keep a manifestation journal, Use Sexual/creative energy to manifest, Shed your old self, Do Self-reflection/self-exploration, Identify areas where you overindulge (ex- food, substances, spending).

Symbols• Grapevine, ivy, phallus, Thyrsus, theatrical masks, Leopard Skin, Panther, Cheetah, the animal called asses, cymbals, swords, or serpents, rams, laurel, asphodel, dolphins, tiger, lynx, panther, horns, goats, his chariot pulled by 2 leopards, masks in general.

Siblings• Ares, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hebe, Hermes, Heracles, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Perseus, Minos, the Muses, the Graces.

His friends/gets along with• Maenads and Bacchantes and Satyrs and Sileni and Pan and Priapus

Attendees• Seilenos (God of Drunkenness), Pan (God of Shepherds & Pastures) the Satyroi and Seilenoi (spirits of Fertility & the Wild) The Bakkhantes and Mainades (Nymphe and Women revellers) Komos Satyriskos (cup-bearer)

Appearance in astral or gen• Dionysus often took on a bestial shape and was associated with various animals, often wearing an Ivy wreath, the thyrsus, and the kantharos (a large two-handled goblet) In early Greek art he has represented as a mature male, bearded and robed holding a fennel staff tipped with a pine-cone, but later on he was portrayed as youthful sensuous, naked or semi-naked androgynous youth and effeminate with brown hair and pale features, often holding grapes and drinking wine.

Parentage• Zeus and Semele, some sources also say Zeus and Demeter, some say Zeus and Persephone, but he always sends up with Persephone as a foster mother or as a biological mother, but before his reincarnation, his parents were Ammon and Amalthea.

Pet• leopards

Children • Priapus, Hymen, Thaos, Staphylus, Ononpion, Cumus, Phthonus, the Graces and Deianira, Seilenos, Pan, Satyroi & Seilenoi, Bakkhantes & Mainades, Komodo’s

season and festivles• Diyonosus festivals were bacchanalia, Dionysia, Anthesteria, Dionysian, Lenaia, Panathenaia, his season was spring and March and April

Day• 11th to the 13th of the month of Anthesterion, around the time of the January or February full moon.

Sacred places• Boitia in Greece, naxos Greek, island Edina in western Thrake, his holiest shrine was Mt kithairon (Nysa) in Boiotia Greece, he also declared war on India. A sacred place is the theatre.

Status• Greek god in the major theoi, and an agriculture Demi God.

Pet peeves• Uderestemating him, he probably won't like it if you ignore him

Music• Disco, show tunes, psychedelic rock, acid folk, Greek folk music, EDM, classical, new wave, art pop, vaporwave, just anything you can dance and sing to.

Tarot• Temperance, fool card, three of cups, the tower, 9 of cups (based off of how people see him through their tarot cards)

Scents/Inscene • Pine incense, frankensince, patchouli and vanilla, nutmeg, mulled wine, storax, and Benzoin, he dislikes lavender.

Prayers•

Regular prayer

Dionysos, god whose arrival is swift and certain, enduring friend of women and men whose welcome is warm, bringer of light, we see you in shadows. Dionysos, granter of great blessings, your presence is a heady wine. Kind-hearted god, to each you give as is fitting, each vessel you fill only as we can bear, and yet with even a sip, we are drunk upon you, and our faith is affirmed. Awesome god, by our own will we drink deeply, with you we become lost, we wander, we are found.

Litany to Dionysos

Dionysos of the vine, rich-tressed god of wine, potent and lusty, unmixed, undiluted, with full force you come to us, vital and robust, rich and strong and surprisingly sweet. Dionysos, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Ivy-bearing Dionysos, god of the green, of the power of root on stone, the force of life that will make its own way in spite of all who labor to hold it back, no will or work can bind your might. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos of the deep earth, of the dark world, of the unknown expanse beneath the black soil, beneath solid stone, of mysteries you know much, of death and of what lies beyond. God of secrets, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos the inspiring, granter of words of prose or poesy, words heard best by the drunken and the mad, words forgotten with the passing of night and delight. Bacchus, granter of rare transport, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos Soter, holder of the hearts of men, you free us from the cares of the world, each brilliant frenzied moment a shining jewel, each glimpse of the sacred more precious than gold. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Kindly Dionysos, granter of good to men and women, giver of gifts to all who seek your blessing. Gracious Dionysos, accepter of offerings great and small, friend of mankind, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Regular Prayer to Dionysos

Dionysos, deep-hearted one who knows the souls of men and women, whose hand is ever open, ever within reach. Dionysos, god who runs in the dark, who sees with eyes shut tight, who dances to the heart’s strong beat, ever are you yourself, ever constant, ever changing god of those who are trapped, those who seek your truth and their own, those who seek vision beyond seeing, those who seek wisdom beyond knowledge, those who seek the self, pure and sweet, those who seek clarity beyond definition, who seek to embrace the uncertain, to hold, but loosely, to what is true beyond trust.

Regular prayer to Dionysos

I praise Dionysos, lord of the vine, lord of the far reaches of the mind; in the thick of the woods, along darkened paths, in the shadows of dusk and of dawn, you roam the world, the satyrs and the pretty nymphs dancing in your wake. Son of Zeus and fair-haired Semele, bold-hearted Semele, who dared to look into the face of glory, beautiful Semele who you carried into life again, Semele reborn who men called Thyone; beloved of clever Ariadne, quick-witted one, so dear to your heart, your bright-eyed bride and consort; Dionysos, friend of women, friend of the blissful, wild-eyed maenads, pilgrims and pioneers, those who seek, your cheer and inspiration, those who seek your release, from sorrow and despair, those who are lost in joy, and those who have found themselves in you. Dionysos, god of the darkest dark and the deepest deep, boundless one, endless one, fathomless one, in you we see the edges of ourselves, in you, we find our life’s journey, in you we find our home.

To Dionysos

I call to Dionysos, great god of the vine, son of thundering Zeus and headstrong Semele, loving husband of warm-hearted Ariadne. From the east you came, old before the ancients, throughout the elder world were you beloved; in Naxos and Boitia were you celebrated, in temples and in the savage wilderness, the fleet-footed maenads running in your wake. The sweetest, strongest wine is ever your drink; the mind’s release, the body’s loosening, your gift. O Dionysos; thyrsus-shaker, ivy-crowned god, we see you in the shadows, we see you on the edges, we see you in the haze of ecstasy, where we know the truth of passion, where we find the essence of our being. Bacchus, I call to you!

| Sources & websites in comments. |

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thatdammchickennugget · 1 month

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The Marauders Yule Ball Headcanons

a/n - hogmarch prompt 4! <3

Remus;

♢ Remus is both nervous and excited about the Yule Ball. His heart races at the thought of spending the evening with you, but he also worries about making a fool of himself on the dance floor. Still, he can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation at the chance to create magical memories with you.

♢ He struggles to find the right words when he asks you to be his date. He rehearses the moment in his head a thousand times, but when the time finally comes, he stumbles over his words, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. However, your smile and enthusiastic acceptance make it all worth it, and he can't help but feel a surge of happiness at the prospect of sharing the night with you.

♢ Remus spends hours agonizing over his outfit for the Yule Ball. He wants to impress you without looking like he's trying too hard, so he opts for simple yet stylish dress robes in deep shades of blue that bring out the warmth in his eyes. He makes sure every detail is perfect, from his neatly combed hair to the way he adjusts his collar with nervous fingers.

♢ Despite his initial nerves, he is determined to make the most of the Yule Ball. He's a bit reserved at first, but as the night goes on and he sees you smiling and having fun, he loosens up. When a slow song comes on, he musters up the courage to ask you to dance, and his heart swells with happiness as you rest your head on his shoulder, lost in the music and the moment.

♢ As the Yule Ball comes to an end, Remus wishes the night could last forever. He walks you back to your common room, stealing glances at you in the moonlight and cherishing the quiet moments shared along the way. When you finally reach the common room, he lingers for just a moment longer, wishing he could freeze time and savor the magic of the evening a little while longer.

Sirius;

♢ Sirius approaches the Yule Ball with a mix of excitement and nerves, but beneath it all, there's a burning anticipation to spend the evening with you, the object of his affections. He sees the ball as an opportunity to show you a side of himself beyond the rebellious facade, a chance to let his guard down and share a magical moment with someone who's captured his heart.

♢ He doesn't beat around the bush when he asks you to the Yule Ball. He's confident and direct, sauntering up to you with a playful smirk and asking in his trademark charming manner. He may throw in a witty remark or two to lighten the mood and make you laugh, but his intentions are clear: he wants to spend the evening with you and make it a night to remember.

♢ Sirius manages to put a lot of effort into his appearance for the ball, while making it look effortless and minimal, preferring a casual yet stylish look that reflects his rebellious nature. He opts for sleek black dress robes with subtle accents that showcase his Gryffindor pride. Most of his time preparing is spent on perfecting his hair.

♢ At the Yule Ball, Sirius is a whirlwind of energy and charm, drawing you into his orbit with his infectious laughter and magnetic presence. He's not one to shy away from the dance floor, throwing himself into each song with reckless abandon and dragging you along for the ride. His movements are bold and uninhibited, a reflection of his free-spirited nature and desire to make the most of every moment spent with you.

♢ As the Yule Ball winds down, Sirius is reluctant to let the magic fade. He suggests sneaking out of the castle for a midnight adventure, eager to prolong the night and steal a few more moments alone with you. Whether it's a spontaneous stroll through the Forbidden Forest or a secret rendezvous by the lake, he savors every second spent in your company, already counting down the days until he can do it all over again.

James;

♢ James is absolutely ecstatic about the Yule Ball. He sees it as the perfect opportunity to spend time with you, his crush, in a magical and romantic setting. He can't stop daydreaming about the moment he'll ask you to dance and hopes the night will be filled with laughter, stolen glances, and maybe even a chance to confess his feelings.

♢ He goes all out when he asks you to the Yule Ball. He plans an elaborate surprise, maybe with a trail of enchanted roses leading to a secluded spot where he's waiting nervously with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. His heart pounds as he stumbles through a slightly rehearsed speech, hoping you'll say yes and make his dreams come true.

♢ James puts a lot of effort into his appearance for the Yule Ball, wanting to impress you while still staying true to his laid-back style. He chooses stylish dress robes in Gryffindor red and gold, making sure they fit just right and accentuate his charming smile. He enlists the help of his friends to ensure he looks his best for the occasion.

♢ At the ball, James is the life of the party. He loves to dance and doesn't hesitate to take your hand and lead you onto the dance floor. His movements are confident and fluid, and he's not afraid to show off his Gryffindor spirit with a few daring twirls and spins. He's constantly by your side, making sure you're having a good time and stealing glances whenever he thinks you're not looking.

♢ As the Yule Ball draws to a close, James is reluctant to let the night end. He suggests taking a walk outside to enjoy the starry sky and quiet moments together. Maybe he'll confess his feelings under the twinkling lights, or perhaps he'll simply hold your hand and enjoy the warmth of your presence as the magical evening comes to an end. Either way, he's determined to make the most of every moment spent with you.

Peter;

♢ Peter turns into a bundle of nerves when the ball is announced. But as someone who often feels overlooked or underestimated, he sees the event as a chance to step out of the shadows and make a lasting impression, especially on you. He hopes the magic of the evening will give him the confidence to finally reveal his feelings.

♢ His approach to asking you to the Yule Ball is timid yet heartfelt. He may stumble over his words or shyly pass you a note expressing his desire to accompany you to the event. Despite his nerves, his sincerity shines through, and he hopes you'll see past his insecurities and give him a chance to share the magic of the evening with you.

♢ Peter puts a lot of thought into his appearance for the Yule Ball, wanting to make a good impression on you. He chooses attire that's classic and understated, opting for simple dress robes in Gryffindor colors. He may spend extra time fussing over his appearance, hoping to erase any doubts about his worthiness to be your date.

♢ At the ball, Peter is a mix of nerves and determination. He's not the most confident dancer, but he musters up the courage to ask you for a dance, his heart pounding in his chest as he takes your hand and leads you onto the dance floor. His movements are hesitant at first, but as the night goes on, he gains confidence, his steps growing surer as he loses himself in the music and the moment.

♢ At the end of the night he walks you back to your dormitory, his heart full of hope for the future and the possibility of something more between you. Though he may not have danced perfectly or said all the right things, he knows that the most important thing is that he was able to spend the night by your side, and for that, he's grateful.

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

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Fair Game | Jake Seresin x Reader

Synopsis: Bradley has been being a shitty boyfriend. His girl isn’t happy. In Jake’s eyes, that means she’s fair game.

Warnings: this is cheating. 100% cannot avoid, there is cheating in this fic. Please do not read it if that upsets you. Jake stirring the pot and having an agenda through the entire fic. Bradley being stressed = Bradley being mean. Reader is a little slutty (affectionate). Smut. Unprotected pinv (do not fuck your bf’s best friend unprotected, or do. I can’t stop you but I can heavily discourage).

…

“Yeah, just do me a favour and fucking behave tonight, alright?” Bradley’s in a mood. You watch as he pulls a tank top over his head and pairs it with an unbuttoned shirt. Bradley’s been having a lot of moods recently. You’ve tried to be understanding.

He’s up for a promotion. He’s working extra hard to make sure he gets it.

“These aren’t your little friends you’re hanging out with.”

Your lips part. You can’t believe he just had the nerve to say that to you.

Bradley’s just a little bit older. In the beginning, he swore that it wasn’t going to be a problem. He saw the maturity in the way you carried yourself and he fell for you quickly. Admittedly, it might not have been your maturity that he fell for. It might’ve been the way that you made his eyes roll back in his head every single time you got his pants down.

But he loves you. He tells you it every day. He has missed a couple days recently, but you’ve been telling yourself that it’s nothing to worry about.

You know why he made the snarky comment. Bradley’s friends are all work friends. They have a good time, they laugh and joke together, but there’s always an air of seriousness to their meet-ups that gives away their professional background. Your friends are mostly people that you grew up with. There are intimate bonds, inside jokes - there’s uninhibited joy in your relationships.

Sometimes you feel like Bradley is threatened by how happy you are with your friends. Like he wishes he was the only one who made you happy.

You know that he doesn’t like your friends.

Bradley likes to dance. Alone or with his own friends, he’s always moving - it’s fun for him. But, with your friends, he sticks to the table and nurses a beer and lets you have all of the fun. It’s embarrassing to have to lie to your friends and say that he’s just shy.

You sulk for the drive to the bar. Arms folded, knees pointed towards the door. Bradley doesn’t care. He’s too busy shaking his head in disbelief that you actually went with that outfit.

Sure, it’s summer and it’s hot - but he’s taking you to a bar, not a nightclub.

Still, he doesn’t mention it. You know it’s on his mind. You don’t care. It made you feel pretty and you could do with the confidence boost after he just ripped your ego to shreds. He’s first out of the bronco. You know that he’s mad because he doesn’t make an effort to grab your door.

You jog to catch up with him, your heels clacking across the parking lot. You reach forwards and slide your palm into his, passing your fingers between his. He looks straight ahead, placing his free hand on the door and pushing it open. He squeezes your hand softly as he steps inside, and then drops it. You frown slightly. He walks off ahead in search of his friends without looking back at you.

He shows back up after a couple of minutes with a drink for you. He pushes you in the vague direction of his friends and makes sure they know you’re there with a muttered introduction, paired with soft greetings from each of them. Then, he ditches you again.

You pass your straw around your drink. You refuse to cry in front of them all. Instead, you force your lip to stop trembling and instead focus on exactly how much you would like the ground to just swallow you whole.

“Why so blue, Baby Bird?”

You stiffen as a heavy arm drapes itself around your shoulders, your body tucked in against a muscled side. The scent of a vanilla and slightly spiced oak blend fills your senses. You recognise the strong and capable arms you’re now in. You turn your head, met with a cocky smirk and sharp blue eyes.

You bite the inside of your cheek and turn your gaze, searching over heads and shoulders for your boyfriend. Jake’s always been kind to you. Nothing but sweet and chivalrous. Bradley hates it - says that you’re too naive to know better. In the eight months you’ve known Jake, you feel like you know him well enough to decide for yourself.

Jake’s here now, being just as kind to you as he always is. You know that if Bradley saw him draped over you like this, he would be furious. He’s mad enough at you already. You shrug yourself weakly out of Jake’s arms, not really wanting to lose the contact but also not wanting to deal with the shitstorm of Bradley thinking you were letting him flirt with you.

“I’m not.” You answer miserably.

Jake chuckles softly. He takes a sip of his beer and secures his arm back around your shoulder, leaning a fraction of his weight into you.

“No?” Jake asks softly. You’ve been pouting at the ground for half an hour while Bradley laughs it up with his friends. Jake lifts the hand holding the beer bottle and extends his index finger, chilled from the coolness of the bottle and hooks it around your chin, turning your jaw towards him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

This is what Bradley hates. Bradley knows exactly why Jake is so nice to you and it doesn’t have anything to do with his respect for women.

You smile at the seemingly genuine concern in his eyes. Inches from his face, you’ve never been more certain that Bradley’s wrong about him. You inhale the warm scent and blink at him with those pretty lashes as his index finger strokes the curve of your jaw.

Still conscious of the fact that your boyfriend is six feet away, albeit with his back turned, Jake is smart enough to put some distance back between the two of you. He slides his hand away from your jaw and his other hand trails from your shoulder to rest at the small of your back, keeping those pretty eyes locked on him and him only.

“Bradley’s mad at me.” You admit sheepishly, fiddling with the rim of the cocktail glass. Jake looks down at the glass and smiles at the fact that Bradley Bradshaw is dating apparently the only girl in San Diego that thinks ordering a daiquiri at the Hard Deck is a normal thing to do. Then, Jake cranes his neck to look for Bradley.

Your boyfriend is laughing, head thrown back with one hand on his stomach as some joke Phoenix has just made about their last posting.

Your eyes linger on the way his hand is draped across the bar behind her back. You’re envious of their proximity. He’s always smiling with her, and he’s always barking orders at you. It doesn’t seem fair. Your heart sinks at the way his eyes crinkle at the edges when he looks at her. Those smile lines are getting bigger every day and not a single one of them tells a story of you.

“Uh oh.” Jake’s attention’s back on you. He can see the worry building in that pretty little head of yours. His thumb strokes gently at the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the edge of your mini skirt at the small of your back. “What did you do?”

You shrug sadly and bring the red drink up, sipping on it with a straw. Jake watches the way your perpetually glossed lips wrap around the straw and shoots a cautionary glance back to your boyfriend. Jake’s morals might be dubious, but he’s still not planning on getting his ass kicked tonight.

“He’s just always mad at me recently,” You tell Jake. He nods understandingly. “Everything I do upsets him.”

Jake’s focus on you doesn’t waver. The way those sharp blue eyes watch you with such understanding - if you had any government secrets, they would all be his in an instant.

“Y’know, before we came out tonight,” You begin. Jake raises an eyebrow in intrigue. He’s been waiting for this since the two of you had shown up. Bradley looking stone-faced and serious until he had come face to face with his friends. You, being left alone near the entry way on the verge of tears. “He said to do him a favour and just behave tonight - you know why?”

Jake raises his eyebrows expectantly but doesn’t open his mouth, leaving the air clear for you to go on.

“Just because last time we were out with my friends, Bradley wouldn’t dance with us - so I danced with this guy. But that’s all it was, dancing!” You insist. Jake’s lips quirk slightly. He knows what a hot-head Bradshaw is and knows that he must’ve lost his head seeing his pretty little girlfriend dancing with someone else. “It’s not like I’d ever cheat on him.”

Jake’s eyes are on you. Sharp and an ice-cold shade of blue. He smiles softly and shakes his head as his thumb strokes over your bare skin.

“No, I know,” He agrees calmly. He gives his head a small nod, “I’m sure Rooster knows that too. Maybe it’s just -“

Jake pauses, more so for dramatic effect than anything else. Your brows raise as you urge him to continue.

“No, I shouldn’t say anything.” Jake decides, shaking his head softly. You grab onto his forearm. Jake looks down at the manicured hand holding his wrist for a moment, then lifts his gaze back up to you.

“Please.” You’re desperate to know what’s going on, where your sweet Bradley went.

Jake gives a soft shrug of his broad shoulders. He steps closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist. Now that you’re both looking at the same thing, Jake feels content to continue. You stare at Bradley’s side profile. He looks so happy. You’re beside yourself with worry, wondering what you’re doing wrong.

“Maybe he’s projecting a little bit.” Jake says gently. He brings the bottle to his mouth and takes a swig of his beer. His hand squeezes at your hip.

Your brows furrow. You look at the way Rooster looks at her. You think of the disappointment in his eyes when he looked at your earlier. You glance down at your outfit and then look at hers.

Jake watches the cogs turn in your head. He knows that there’s nothing going on between them. He’s pretty sure Phoenix would rather walk on hot coals than let Rooster touch her. But, the evidence is there for you to believe the contrary.

“Y-You don’t think he would, do you?” You ask Jake gently.

Jake shakes his head, “I mean - I hope I’m wrong.”

You watch the way that Rooster grins, then rolls his eyes affectionately at Phoenix. She scoffs and elbows him playfully in the ribs. He falls into her, laughing again. Your heart sinks. Your bottom lip trembles slightly.

They did just get back from six weeks on an aircraft carrier together, and Bradley’s been off with you since then.

Jake glances across to gauge your reaction, pleased to find that it’s exactly what he was expecting it to be. Realisation. His brows raise as your eyes brim with tears - he hadn’t been expecting that. You push your glass into his hands and disappear into the crowd.

Jake catches a glimpse of you heading for the bathroom. He takes a sip of his beer and glances around him.

Finally, Jake sets your drink and his beer on the table behind him and straightens up. He pats Coyote’s shoulder playfully, making no effort to hide where he’s going as he sets off after you. Maybe if your boyfriend had done a better job of keeping you happy in the first place, Jake wouldn’t have been able to step in to do it for him.

He knocks twice on the door to the women’s restroom, then lets himself in. You’re bracing each of your palms on the sink, trembling as tears spill onto your cheeks.

“Oh, honey.” Jake breathes out, stepping inside and opening his arms. You throw yourself into his chest. His strong arms wrap around you and you sob against his black t-shirt. “It’s gonna be alright. Pretty little thing like you, you’re too good for him, anyway.”

You tremble in his arms.

“You already knew that didn’t you?” Jake murmurs, his voice growing gravelly as he strokes a hand over the top of your hair. You stay pressed into his chest as his other arm wraps around your waist and pulls you tight against him. “I’ll bet you think of it all the time. How much better you could have it.”

Your hands are at his sides. Jake feels them curl softly into the fabric of his shirt.

“You think about it when he’s fucking you, honey?” Jake’s lips graze your ear and leave you with a shiver spreading down your spine and echoing through every nerve in your body. You pull back and look up at him, brows furrowing softly. Jake’s never spoken to you like this before. “About how much better it would be if it was me?”

Your lips part in surprise. Jake brushes a strand of hair back affectionately from your face.

“I’d make sure there was a smile on that pretty little face every single day.” He promises, stroking his thumb softly against your cheek. He observes the doe-eyed look on your face as you take in what he’s saying. He knows that you’re almost there. Just a little more. His thumbs wipe delicately at the mascara smudged under your eyes. He slots his thigh between yours and presses the denim on his thigh against your core. “I’d make it all better.”

You swallow, glancing down at his leg slotted between yours. He pushes his thigh against you. Your mini skirt does nothing to hold him back. The fabric of his jeans presses into the lace between your legs. You lift your gaze, heart pounding in your chest as you stare into those blue eyes.

It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought of it. You had thought of it intermittently for the past three months - since you had seen Jake on the beach, shirtless, playing football with your boyfriend.

Every single story Bradley had told you about Jake - about his smugness and his cocky attitude, that hadn’t ever phased you. Jake had always been nothing but perfectly behaved towards you. Even when Bradley had mentioned the hearts that Jake had broken, a small part of you had noticed the rivalry between them and pegged it down to jealousy.

Standing in front of Jake now, you’re more certain than ever. Bradley’s so wrong. Bradley has been lying to you. About himself and about Jake.

Jake’s hands readily find your hips as you straighten up and press your mouth to his. You kiss him. You kissed him first.

He tugs you flush against him, sliding his tongue into your mouth and caressing it expertly against yours. Bradley’s a good fuck, and a good kisser - but it can be overbearing when he sticks his tongue in your mouth. There’s such a rush for power. Jake’s technique is much calmer, a little softer… more professional, almost.

Because Jake already knows that he has all of the power.

You taste like strawberries and white rum, it’s fruity and sugary. Jake cups your face in his hands and groans out softly into your mouth. You’re exactly what he had imagined. He presses you into the counter, pressing his body firmly against yours. His denim-clad thigh is still slotted between yours, it’s right there and yet it isn’t close enough. You stumble on your feet as you try to grind down into him.

“Slow down, Baby Bird,” Jake muses, confidence dripping from the smug smile on his lips as he mouths at your jaw. His teeth graze your earlobe, his breath sending shocks straight to your core. “Daddy’s got you.”

You whimper softly onto his tongue.

It’s dizzying. You’ve been denying your attraction to Jake for months, trying so hard to be the girl that Bradley wants you to be, and you’re so relieved to let the curtain fall. The real you. Tangling your hands in Jake’s shirt, hooking one leg around his hip as his tongue trails across your jugular.

Jake grabs your hips in his strong, capable hands. He lifts you up onto the counter between the two sinks, hands grabbing at your thighs, parting them for him to rest in the middle. You grab the back of his neck for balance, holding his mouth against your throat. A moan slips your lips as his teeth graze over your skin. He sucks a firm kiss into the spot below your ear.

Your lips part, soft gasping breaths filling the air as Jake slips one strap of that pathetic scrap of fabric that you call a shirt off of your shoulder, lowering his mouth to suck warm kisses into your skin.

“So pretty.” Jake murmurs. Your fingers slide up into his hair, eyes closing contentedly as his mouth works against the smooth skin of your chest. He glances up at you as he nudges the other strap off of your shoulder. “You gonna let me fuck you, honey?”

You’re snapped back to reality as the question echoes in your ears. His mouth works skilled kisses across your collarbones, your bare shoulders, the base of your neck - any part of you that he can get his mouth on. His strong hands squeeze at your thighs as he holds them around his waist.

Are you going to let Bradley’s wingman fuck you?

“Gonna let me give it to you like he should’ve? - Like you deserve?” Jake goes on. As he sucks a bruising kiss into the base of your neck, you arch your back, pushing your chest up into his. The top slips slightly, exposing almost all of your breasts. You whimper at the force of his mouth on your skin, knowing that your underwear is soaked and wondering if he knows that too.

Your head lulls back as you expose more of your throat to him. He’s on you like a man possessed, sliding a hand up into your roots and tugging hard to keep the tender skin exposed to him, his mouth working feverishly over your skin.

“Yes, fuck yes.” You decide, parting your legs further, curling your nails into the nape of his neck.

“That’s my girl.” Jake praises. He’s quick to push your flimsy little shirt the rest of the way down. You aren’t shy about it in the slightest. Jake watches as you lean your palms back on the counter behind you, putting your weight on them, parting your legs a little further. Putting yourself on show, just for him.

Jake has the perfect view and he has been waiting eight. fucking. months for it.

It’s a goddamn travesty that Bradshaw had all of this and spent the whole time trying to control it. Trying to mould you into some perfect little housewife. Jake’s perfectly fine with you the way you are: looking up at him through your lashes, waiting for him to fuck the brains out of you.

Bradley has mentioned this once or twice in passing. That he feels that sometimes you aren’t mature enough. He’s never said the word, but Jake understands what he meant - you were a little slutty before Bradley. Now, Bradley’s insecure because he knows that you wouldn’t struggle to replace him. And so, he has spent months trying to make you into what he wants you to be. All his.

Jake knows you were never going to be all his. He was planning on making sure of it.

He groans softly as he lowers his mouth to your chest. He’s been waiting for this. He palms at one of your tits as his mouth nips at the other. Your head lulls back against the mirror behind you. He takes your nipple into his mouth and flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud, feeling you shudder against him. Jake takes it between his teeth as the pulls away, leaving you with a biting kiss as he moves back to peppering kisses across your tits.

You moan softly as his teeth send sparks through you, he feels your nails curl harder into his skin. He knew you’d like it a little rough. He imagines that Bradley hates that about you. Hates that you like being fucked like a slut. Jake loves it.

You lift your hips slightly, bracing yourself on your palms as you grind your core against the denim covering his thigh.

“So damn desperate for it,” Jake murmurs, clicking his tongue as he pulls his mouth away from your tits and looks over your flushed features. He shakes his head softly, almost like he feels bad for you. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

You clench around nothing and Jake feels the way your thighs press into his hips in an attempt to squeeze them shut for some friction. Jake smirks. He slides his hand between your legs and stands upright, his gaze falls down to watch as he nudges the lace between your legs to the side. You part your legs eagerly for him.

Jake grazes the knuckle of his index finger along your folds, then looks back up at that pretty face. And to think, Bradley Bradshaw was dumb enough to play you right into Jake’s capable and more than willing hands.

“Look at this,” Jake breathes out as his gaze falls back down to rest between your legs. You swallow hard, desperate for his touch. His index finger dips between your folds, his brows raise as he gathers your excitement on the tip of it. “So fucking wet. Tell me how badly you need me to give it to you, honey.”

Jake holds back. His middle and ring fingers nudge readily at your hole but he waits.

“So bad, so, so bad.” You rush out, stumbling over your words in the race to get them out. Jake raises an eyebrow; he waits, expectantly, for more. “Need you, Daddy. Need you to give it to me.”

And then his mouth is on yours. That’s all he needed to hear. You’re sucking softly at the tip of his tongue and he’s curling to fingers into you. You moan into his mouth. Your walls clench around his fingers as he fucks them into you. You’re intoxicated by that burnt vanilla scent and the taste of beer on his tongue, the feeling of his capable fingers curling into you.

Jake teeters on the line of brutal without daring to cross it. He’s precise and expert. It almost saddens you to realise it. He really is better than Bradley. Your head falls forwards to rest against his shoulder and you realise he’s still wearing his shirt. You push desperately at the fabric. Jake pulls his fingers from you briefly, just long enough to tug it over his head and drop it into the sink.

Then he’s thrusting them back into you, working you open. Your fingers find his belt and fumble with the buckle. Jake’s mouth sucks at the pressure point below your ear. It doesn’t help your efforts with his belt buckle to have your eyes rolling back in your head. His fingers and mouth have you clenching around him.

The buckle finally pops open. You tear open the button on his jeans and push down the zipper. Jake grunts softly as you spit into your palm and push it into the front of his jeans. This isn’t your first time giving a quick and dirty handjob in a bathroom. Bradley would be furious to know that.

Your hand tugs at his cock, jerking him off as you kiss his jaw. He thrusts his fingers deep into you, earning himself a desperate gasp.

“Please fuck me,” You whimper into his ear. His fingers are good but you need more. “Please, Daddy, please.”

Jake swallows, fighting to keep composure as he pulls his fingers from you. He licks his lips as his eyes browse over your features.

“Open your mouth.” He pushes at his jeans with one hand. You obey him without question. He slides two digits between your lips, breathing hard as he watches your mouth close around them. With his free hand, he tugs you to the edge of the counter. His jeans are down just far enough to expose himself. Just enough.

You moan onto his fingers as he slips his cock into you with ease. You’re so wet, so ready for him. Jake presses his fingers further into your mouth, feeling your throat at his fingertips. You hold him there obediently until tears begin to brim in your eyes. He pulls his fingers back courteously. His tongue wets his bottom lip as you gasp for air in their absence.

“So good for me, Baby Bird,” Jake murmurs as he curls his wet fingers into your roots and tugs hard. He presses your face into the crook of his neck, holding you firm against him as he fucks into you. “Such a good girl.”

Jake’s thrusts are hard and fast but he’s rocking himself deeply into you, letting you know that he’s just as good as Bradley. Better even. Jake’s seen Bradley coming out of the showers. He’s bunked with him on the carrier. He knows exactly what he’s up against and he isn’t threatened in the slightest. He knows for a fact that Bradley’s never had you begging for him like this.

Jake doesn’t take his time. He knows he’s only got so long before someone comes wandering through that door. He goes right to setting a brutal pace, ruthless as he fucks into you. Just how you need it. You’re gasping, moaning out for him as he grunts in your ear. Jake pulls his face back and forces your skirt up higher around your waist.

You lean back on your hands for him to have better access. Your lips part, mouth hanging open as he spits down between your bodies. His fingers catch the saliva and drag it upwards through your folds as his fingers find your clit.

“Oh my god.” You whimper as your head falls back to hit the mirror behind the counter. Jake’s thumb works his spit over the sensitive bundle of nerves, setting a firm pace to match the vigour in which his cock fills you.

“Does Bradshaw fuck you this good?” Jake breathes out. You shake your head pathetically, clawing onto his arm as your head rhythmically hits into the reflective surface behind you. It feels to good for you to care. You shake your head incoherently again. He doesn’t. Not like this. Jake fists his hand into your hair and pulls hard. “With you words.”

“No, fuck.” You whimper, practically convulsing under him as he builds you towards your orgasm. “You’re so good to me. You feel so fucking good. I’m so close.”

“You gonna cum for me, birdie?” Jake teases, punctuating his question with a hard snap of his hips that draws a shriek from your lips. With any luck, Bradshaw will be playing that stupid piano too loud for anyone to have heard that. You nod your head desperately. Jake smirks. He was going to have you talk dirty to him a little more but with the way you’re screaming, Jake figures that wouldn’t be too smart.

Still, he can’t bring himself to want you to shut up.

Rooster was doing a shitty job and Jake’s making it better. Who cares who hears?

Jake growls softly into the curve of your jaw, tugging at your hair as he pounds into you. Hard and dirty on the bathroom counter. Just the way he knew you’d like it when Bradley introduced you to him all those months ago, in your pretty little dress, looking like butter wouldn’t melt. Bradley might have fallen for it. Jake knows better.

The bathroom is filled with groans, incoherent sounds and Jake’s skin hitting yours. Your whole body tenses at once as he pushes you over the edge. Your nail drag sharply down his back, leaving scorching red marks in their wake. Jake’s hips stutter at the feeling, he rams himself into you hard and makes you cry out into his shoulder as your vision goes blisteringly white. His knuckles whiten around your roots as your walls clench around him.

Jake’s mouth leaves lazy, open-mouthed kisses across your jaw and cheeks, stopping as he kisses your temple. He gives you no time to recover, fucking you through your orgasm ruthlessly. He’s right behind you. His eyes catch something in his peripheral. Jake’s gaze flickers up to the mirror behind your head in time to see the door begin to nudge open.

Your walls contract around him as the aftershocks of your orgasm pass through your body.

Jake knows there’s only one person who would open that door after hearing what’s going on inside. He grunts softly, picking up the pace, impossibly harder as he chases after his own release. He buries his face into your neck, biting, sucking. You cry out as he thrusts himself deeply into you. Both hands grab at your hips and pull you flush against him as he spills into you. Your eyes are screwed shut and you’re crying out desperately.

Jake’s eyes find Bradley’s in the mirror. He breathes in through his mouth and then presses his lips to the curve of your jaw, still buried inside of you. Jake’s lips quirk up into a smirk. He tugs softly at your hair and you moan for him again. Jake doesn’t know how much of that Bradley heard, but he hopes it was most of it.

“Tell him who made you feel so good, birdie.” Jake teases, his eyes still on Bradley as he rocks his hips lazily a few more times. You’re too fucked out to realise the lapse in Jake’s choice of words. That he says tell him instead of tell me. Bradley’s frozen, still holding the door to the bathroom open. He burns, seething red as he looks at the fucked out look on your face. You moan tiredly and nuzzle your face into Jake’s jaw, eyes still closed, unaware.

“You, Daddy.”

Jake slips out of you and tucks himself swiftly into his jeans. You blink, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes fly wide open as you spot Bradley. He’s staring right at you. Your shirt slipped off of your shoulders and bunched around your middle, tits out and littered with teeth marks matching the ones on your neck. Your already almost indecently small skirt pushed up around your waist, exposing you completely.

You bolt upright and press your legs shut, covering your chest with your hands. Your mouth hangs open as you stutter for words.

Bradley turns his attention towards the blonde slipping his shirt back over his head. His face straightens and he seems calm for a moment.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Bradley tells his wingman. Jake grins.

You scream as Bradley lurches forwards and catches Jake’s shirt in his hands, scrambling up from the counter and forcing yourself back into your clothes. The straps aren’t compliant and your skirt is still too short, and your underwear is bunched up in all the wrong places. Your hair is fucked from Jake’s hands running through it. But your appearance isn’t your focus.

The look in Bradley’s eyes tells you that he isn’t joking.

Jake straightens up and puffs his chest out, unafraid and shameless, smirking, as he stands face to face with the man who’s girlfriend he just fucked.

…

#jake seresin smut #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin #hangman #hangman x y/n #hangman x you #hangman smut #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw #glen powell

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ervotica · 10 months

Note

oh oh oh!!!!! “the water’s so cool! come on, just come in for a dip to cool yourself down.” with bully!eddie!!! swoons

Thank you for the request my love! God I adore Bully!Eddie; Bully!Eddie goes soft on you at Lover’s Lake. You can’t find it in yourself to complain; 500< words

Lovers Lake is heaven at this time of year.

It’s sweltering, the type of heat that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin, makes your muscles slow and sticky like molasses, tired and sweaty and not particularly inclined to do much other than lay in the grass. The gaggle of your friends splashing in the shallow water laugh and chatter, each voice overlapping the other until most of the conversation is inaudible.

You turn from your place at the mouth of the lake, hair sticking to your shiny forehead as you squint and try to make out the sulking figure in the trees. The breeze rustles the viridescent leaves, branches hanging low and heavy and obscuring the dark haired boy’s features.

Pushing yourself up on your forearms, you waver at the sight of him, all long and lean and pale, hiding behind the leaves; his hair is pulled back rather than down in its usual messy curls, mötörhead t-shirt slung lazily over the slope of his torso.

“Eddie,” you call. His head tips up at the sound of you.

“What?” he snaps back, venomous. His scowl doesn’t deter you, not anymore.

“It’s too hot to be sitting over here,” you giggle. “Come down with us.”

He scoffs, turning away before your sentence is even over. He glistens in the rays of sunlight peeking through the undergrowth, a thin layer of perspiration coating his pallid skin.

“Eddie,” you whine, bouncing on the very tips of your toes. “Please.”

“Hey,” he barks, brows marrying into an expression you really hate on him. “What have I told you about whining? Don’t be annoying.”

You huff, crossing arms over your chest and crouching until you’re eye level with him.

“The water’s so cool!” You reach out to twirl a loose curl that’s broken free from the confines of his hair tie. “Come on, just come in for a dip to cool yourself down.”

He grumbles something under his breath; you know you’ve won.

“You’re so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?”

You only smile.

He snatches his hand away when you reach for it, but lets you ogle as he strips his band tee off and slides into the clear water. You plop back down next to him, Robin to your other side.

He prickles as your hands coast the bare length of his arms, spreading over his shoulders to tickle his face.

“Quit it,” he murmurs; you know he doesn’t mean it.

“Hold my hand?” you ask, soft doe eyes staring him down until he has no choice but to agree. You splash as you turn to face him, rippling water casting shapes around your body.

“Will it make you quiet?” he gripes. You scrunch your nose at him in this cute way that has his heart clenching in his chest. If anyone else ever upset you he thinks he’d kill them.

Your fingers are intertwined almost immediately. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you smile so big, so uninhibited. You hum, squeezing his fingers every so often. He squeezes you back just to keep you happy.

Maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as he thought.

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semisolidmind · 11 months

Note

But what if Reader was sneaking out to try and meet Macaque? Maybe somewhere down the line where SWK has already taken Reader, but she’s still determined to see Mac, even under the cover of darkness.

How would he react? I bet not happy, but maybe more disappointed than anything.

yikes. ok, so

let's say this is happening before swk has killed macaque and is holding him in a dungeon somewhere in the cave. reader has done her recon already; she's–very subtly–asked some of the monkey citizens where he's being held. she's prepared to free macaque and run for her life.

however, the king is always aware of the gossip flowing between his subjects.

reader is able to sneak away that night, uninhibited. she probably should've been suspicious at how "exhausted" wukong was when he laid down next to her that night, but she was too distracted. after finally figuring out how to get into the dungeon, she wasn't gonna wait another night to free her only friend.

reader makes her way down into the winding passage shown to her by a well-meaning gaurd. after a long walk in near total darkness, the path opens into a cavern. it's empty aside from macaque, bound by his wrists, ankles, and neck by shackles that lead to chains magically sealed into the stone wall. on his knees with his arms stretched behind him, his head hanging low, he looks...half-dead. reader gently calls out to him, and gets no response.

she goes up to him, tentatively touching his shoulder...macaque startles awake, reflexively snarling and jerking in his bonds. reader falls backwards, missing macaque's teeth closing on her hand by mere inches. once his eyes clear of rage, a look of wide-eyed disbelief crosses his features.

"Reader...?"

"Macaque!"

reader surges up to embrace him. he can feel her tears against his shoulder. he's shaking, he realizes. he wants to hold her back, but settles for burying his face in her neck. he missed her, and her warmth is more than welcome in opposition to the chill of the cave. he's happy to hear her again too, having been driven almost mad by the sound of constantly dripping water.

but then he hears something else. and the realization of what's about to happen floods his veins with ice.

"You can't stay here, you have to leave right now–!"

"Isn't this a touching sight."

the monkey king's eyes burn like fire through the gloom of the cave, and his voice, though deathly quiet, echoes throughout the space. his body language would suggest nonchalance, but the malice radiating off of him is unmistakable.

reader freezes. her arms become lead around macaque's neck. she meets his look of defiance with a shaky, but determined look of her own.

"Just let him go, please," she whispers, knowing both demons can hear. "It doesn't have to be this way. I'll stay and I won't try to escape again if you'll just let him live."

macaque shakes his head. "Don't do this-"

"I'll think about it. If you come back to bed."

all is silent for a moment as reader turns to look at wukong. he leans against the entrance to the cavern, his posture loose though his arms are crossed. he seems...agitated, if his tail is any indication.

she pauses. she looks back at macaque, but he's hung his head again, his eyes hidden in shadow. he won't look at her.

"Go." he whispers.

and what else can she do?

reader shakily stands, turns, and walks back to her "husband." her feet feel heavier with each step, and it's almost a blessing when wukong picks her up. he carries her out of the dungeons and back to the royal bedchambers.

the king lays his queen gently into the large nest of pillows he acquired just for her, following her down a moment later. he kisses her passionately, and runs his hands down the length of her stomach. his claws catch in her robes, drawing them upward.

"Let me take care of you." he coos, his eyes glowing warmly.

reader remembers his hands on her and the heat of his body, his eyes burning through her, the scent and taste of peaches...and not much after.

she sleeps soundly that night.

---

the next morning, reader awakes to the satisfied smile of her king. he seems a little bit too satisfied, actually. her head still foggy with sleep, reader's filter isn't awake yet either. so she asks the first question on her mind.

"What...What are you gonna do to Mac...?" she asks blearily.

the king grins. reader doesn't like the implication.

"'Mac' and I made a deal. He leaves and never shows his face to either of us ever again, and I don't turn him into a meat bun. Everyone wins." wukong happily explains. "I let him go last night actually, after you passed out."

a beat of silence passes.

the king laughs lightly. "We need to work on your stamina, peach. You barely lasted two rounds. Though, maybe I should've gone a little easier on you–"

reader pushes him away, beating her fists against his chest as his laughter rings in her ears. she can feel her face redden.

after getting over her fluster, reader is...surprised. she almost can't believe that macaque would take that deal, but–

...she did ask for his freedom in exchange for hers. maybe...maybe she shouldn't be surprised that he took it. maybe she shouldn't be surprised if he never comes back for her. it isn't fair that he should suffer if he doesn't have to.

perhaps he finally realized that, too.

reader doesn't want to believe that macaque would abandon her, but...he doesn't come back. or give any sign that he's around.

reader mourns, and she's not sure why.

-----

macaque was just happy that she's alive. wukong hadn't hurt her, at least not physically.

the same couldn't be said for him, obviously.

wukong had been using him as a personal punching bag for however long since his last failed attempt at freeing his favorite (not so mortal anymore) mortal. not that macaque couldn't take it, but he was getting very tired of being chained up in this stupid cave. and he was very, very tired of not having access to the shadows. another fun quirk of his shackles.

macaque let out a frustrated sigh. he needed to free reader. he...he promised he'd help her get away from the monkey king. he needed to rethink his plan–

his internal monologue was interrupted by the sound of leisurely footsteps.

"You know, I really hadn't expected her to try and find you." wukong drawls as he saunters in. "I guess I should have, given how stubborn she can be."

"One of the things I like about her," macaque chuffs.

wukong huffs out a humorless laugh. he makes his way closer to his once-brother. macaque stiffens, readying himself for an attack. the tired smile on wukong's face makes his fur stand on end. at this proximity he can't help but notice how messy the king's fur is, and that–

...that he smells very strongly of reader.

macaque feels a surge of protective jealousy, despite his position.

"Our little tug-of-war was fun for a while, but I'm tired of it," the monkey king sighs. "I wanna settle down, y'know? Maybe have some kids, really focus on my kingdom."

macaque flinches backward when wukong kneels down in front of him. the look on his face is one of somebody who's been dealing with a particularly annoying pest and is absolutely done with it.

wukong stands. he summons the cudgel, stepping back.

"You're in the way of that, bud."

macaque doesn't have the chance to think before the staff comes down on his head.

#bad end wukong #kinda a short fic #it got away from me as usual

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wannaeatramyeon · 9 months

Text

Lookism guys: What they like about you(r body)

My usual: Gun, Goo, Jake, Sam, Vin. G/N apart from Vin-ish.

Ugh. Soft boys. Very sfw. Inspired by @simpingforlookism's fluff and a follow up to whether they prefer boob, ass, thigh or...? .

Gun Park

Gun likes your eyes.

He tells you often. A statement of fact of how pretty he thinks they are, how expressive and full of life.

Never thinks about the effect of his words until you blush and stammer and he smirks. And when you call him a romantic, he scoffs in response. What is romantic about facts and truth?

Loves your unflinching gaze. Bold and fierce. Looking and peering into his own from the start. Likes the way he is reflected in your eyes. Like he is a better person than he is.

Gun would never give up his UI. The appearance of his eyes a small price to pay for fighting prowess.

But often he wonders, if the love he has for you is reflected in his eyes as much as it is in yours.

Goo Kim

Goo likes your smile.

That's what he likes to tell you anyway as you roll your eyes at his cheesy answer, greasy grin on his face and not believing a word he says.

It's the truth.

Goo covers and hides his honesty. The little admission of how much he likes your smile with pouts and honeyed words and a wild look.

But he does. He loves the smile you give him.

Sweet and soft and just for him. His own unhinged and uninhibited next to your usual demure one. Like an inside joke. Both still having the same cunning, gleeful look in your eyes.

Likes to think your smile is what his could have been in a different life.

Jake Kim

Jake loves the sound of your laughter. The tinkle he carries with him wherever he goes; replays videos of you two chuckling and goofing off together.

But as for your body - it's your hands. It's the way it contrasts with his.

His own calloused and scarred. Marred with marks from years and years of fighting and training.

Seen more bloodshed and violence than he wants to think about.

Yours though, he loves the way it feels in his. When he envelopes yours with his bigger one. When your fingers interlink. Running his thumb along your knuckles, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing each finger. Lying in bed together and pretending to read one another's palms.

How looking at you both walking hand in hand, joined by ten fingers threaded together, it just looks like any two normal lovers. No history, no trauma. Nothing besides two people in love.

Samuel Seo

Samuel likes a lot about your body.

Splaying his fingers over your back, hand on your thigh, suckling on your neck, kissing your cheek.

What he finds it hard to admit is, he loves being able to read you like an open book.

The look on your face. The way you wear your heart on your sleeve. Never needing to school your expression into one of neutrality. How you are always so open with your emotions.

Happiness, pleasure, sadness, anger - all reflected clearly.

Jealous and equally relieved that you never had to face the hardships he had to with his life. That you are still free to express how you feel. That life hasn't forced you to put up a veneer of control.

Admitting it means turning the mirror inward. Self-reflection is something he's not ready for.

When you ask, he simply tells you he likes the way you look at him.

Vin Jin

Vin likes your tits.

Why are you pissed at him? Why are you giving him such a dirty look? You asked and he gave you an honest answer.

Sheesh, some people.

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #gun park #gun park x reader #goo kim #goo kim x reader #jake kim #jake kim x reader #samuel seo #samuel seo x reader #vin jin #vin jin x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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annmarcus63 · 7 months

Text

So what if Jaskier confessed his feelings? After seeing Geralt fight a monster and almost lose his life for it. I love you, fool. He would say sobbing. Or maybe he’d say it on one of those nights when he and Geralt would stay up late drinking ale and playing Gwent. One of those nights when Geralt lets himself go and laughs at Jaskier's jokes (or at him) in a free and uninhibited way. hahaha, I love you! he’d say between guffaws.

But Geralt doesn't love him, so he says nothing. He doesn't love him, but maybe... he could. But not now, he's not ready. …yet? His relationship with Yennefer is complicated, he loves her, she makes him happy. But maybe he could love...Jaskier. But before things get better they get hopelessly worse. Geralt changes, something is crawling under his skin and he feels threatened by Jaskier’s feelings. By that all-consuming love that now recognises in the bard's eyes.

Jaskier notices the distance between them. An ugly, dying presence that wants to separate them. Geralt is the first to be overcome. As soon as Jaskier reaches out to touch him Geralt turns away with a grunt. He feels like an unwanted plague, a disease. He cries sometimes, but he's ok.

"I shouldn't have said anything '' he whispers one night, they're lying on the bed. An immense space between them, even though their shoulders are almost touching. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Forgive me." Fat, ugly tears trickle from the corners of his eyes. But before he can clean them Geralt is there. He grabs him by the face and wipes away the tears with his thumbs. "Don't cry. Don’t cry because of me.”

Geralt's expression is pure anguish "I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know… how to… fuck, I'm sorry." Jaskier gets up on his elbows and Geralt kneels between Jaskier's legs, successfully trapping him, deep down he fears the bard will leave. "I'm not going anywhere." Jaskier assures him as he places a hand over one of Geralt's, still on the bard’s face.

"You should." Geralt.

"I won't leave." And then Geralt wraps his arms around him and flips them both onto the bed. They fall asleep like this. Jaskier smiles onto the witcher's chest, and Geralt feels as if he's holding everything that matters. He's holding someone he might love.

#jaskier #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #the witcher netflix #the witcher #oh look !#anguish but with an immidiate happy ending #sort of #mine

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stjuice · 5 months

Text

Belong to You

sukuna x reader

blurb: you’re finally ready to be his one and only.

wc: 2.4k

tw: mentions of sex and murder, reader stepping into her worth, sukuna wants you (to be happy)

Listen to Belong to you by Sabrina Claudio

--------- --------- ---------

“Release them.”

You are right to ask for this. To demand it. You’ve never been the only one, but you’ve become the only one that matters. You see it in his gaze, feel it in his touch, taste it on your tongue. He has them, but you are his. The closest thing to a treasured companion that a man like him could possess.

Master Sukuna.

You bring him more pleasure than all of them combined. It’s more than fucking, it’s lingering touches and unreadable looks and actual conversation. They’re sex, but you’re an experience. He’ll take a girl to pass the time, but he plays with you. You’re fun. You might be the best thing that ever happened to him. The only thing stopping you from claiming this coveted spot is—well, you.

Honestly, you’re not even sure why he keeps them around. The times that he’s insisted you join him in his chambers just for him to sit you in your favorite chair while you watch him fuck one of them into a gushing, babbling mess are some of the most confusing moments of your life.

He always looks so bored. Mechanical movements, barely breaking a sweat, watching you the whole time. Why bother? The last time, he didn’t even finish! It doesn’t make sense. He’s always been so uninhibited. So selfish. You really can’t understand what might’ve changed.

He’s the Disgraced One. Master Sukuna has spent his entire existence getting to this point, all so he can enjoy life as he pleases. Indulging his every desire, no matter how dark, twisted or socially unacceptable. He’s freedom incarnate. It’s what drew you to him in the first place.

If people could blind their morality for just a second, they could see him as you do: a soul so free of expectation and insecurity and sublimation, of the worries and fears we have all been conditioned with since birth. He’s sprawled before you now, contained within fresh flesh and blood, but he had a life even before he was a reincarnated curse. He was a regular human, subject to the same societal influence that plagues us all. And he let it all go. He broke free.

He’s an inspiration.

Were he a god, his worshipers would offer their first born to be blessed with the gift of pure carnal hedonism only he could bestow. Of course, for him, even the life of a god is too low. He has no plans to serve anyone beyond his own self-interest. He will never let anything tie him down. But lately, it seems he’s forgotten the very words he graced you with many months ago, strong fingers curled deep inside of you as you gasped above him, following his direction, learning his philosophy.

Take all you want. Hold nothing back.

How can he say that and then turn around and waste his time, his energy, his life on women who give him nothing? Honestly, you’re doing this for him. You can’t believe you’re even thinking this but, he needs to remember who he is. He needs to let go of that which no longer serves him. He needs to get these women off your property.

Most importantly, you want him to.

Enough to make you repeat yourself.

“Release them.”

Sukuna glares down at you from his throne of bones, the picture of intimidation. Your gaze doesn’t waver.

“Why?”

He knows why. He’s been expecting it. Still, his curiosity is peaked. Why now? All this time, you’ve been satisfied with the arrangement all his women share. A small piece of him, sliced into tinier shards and spread evenly among each of his whores. At times, he’d throw in an extra boon just to watch them tear each other apart for a slight increase in his favor (ha!). All except you. You’ve always accepted everything as is. Never asking for more, never expecting anything. It’s the very thing that drew him to you in the first place.

You understood your role in his world: satisfy his physical needs and stay out of his sight.

While all the rest would push their luck for an extra second of his time, a chance to win him over, you were out the door before the sheets could cool. You were a refreshing change of pace. Not dead inside, merely reserved.

At first, you feigned disinterest at anything aside from your duty. Outside of his arms, you didn’t seem to want to truly live. A pretense. You played your role well, but he saw the sparks of fire you tried to hide when he’d push you past your comfort zone, going a little further every time. Learning your limits, then extending them as he saw fit. Showing you it’s possible to grow beyond your repressed expectations. In his bed and in your life.

With a little warming up, he could tell you enjoyed the stretch. He learned to pay great attention when you were loose enough to let your mask slip. He didn't show it but, in those brief moments, he would hang onto your every word, knowing it was the closest thing to your truth that you could exhibit at that point. You didn’t say much (too often, he'd push you past the realm of coherent thought), but it was a start.

The challenge you presented proved to be an acceptable remedy for his usual boredom. He was satisfying his curiosity. Uncovering the many pieces of your personality one by one. Surprised to find some of those pieces looked familiar. There was more to you than he thought. And you knew it. You were deliberately keeping yourself from him. You underestimated him. Looped him in with all the rest, as if he couldn’t recognize potential when he saw it.

You used to insist that you would never take more of him than he was willing to give, knowing that, typically, he wouldn’t care to give you much of anything at all. That was before he’d caught a glimpse of the person trapped beneath the placid expression you would give to pretend you were beyond selfish desire. Hear you tell it, you couldn’t dream of asking for more.

He knows better. He knows you.

You were afraid. Not of death, not of him, no— your fear stemmed from within. Imaginary consequences imposed and reinforced by human society. He understood. Sukuna himself was once just as human as you. Intelligent, talented, miserable. Forced to find his place in the community, take orders, play it small.

Resentful.

Wrestling with the notion that his experience in life could expand so much further than the constraints they tried to place on him. Angry, he prodded at the bars of his cage with his cursed energy and learned a most valuable lesson.

The one advantage curses have over humanity is their lack of inhibition.

Each curse is born with a single directive: to be no more or less than what it is. Not to worry about the consequences of its actions. Not to water down its nature to appease the group mentality, preserving a false sense of order in a world built for chaos. It was this realization that set him free. Once he recognized that the key to unlock his joy was within him all along, he didn’t hesitate to use it. He embraced his power and received everything he wanted, like a reward for good behavior.

The little bits of his story he shared weren’t much, just enough to get you started. You’re observant. Perceptive. He was amused to see you caught on to the idea pretty quickly, though you took your time applying it. Predictable, but that was to be expected. Even he needed time to adjust, to trust himself over everything else. Instead of pushing you, he waited. You needed to want it for yourself or it would never stick.

In time, you began to experiment. He watched you dip your toe in little by little, testing the limits of your beliefs, risking more, stumbling less, building that crucial bond of trust with yourself. And with him. It was surprisingly gratifying to witness.

An experiment with only one test subject is biased at best, but you supplied new data. Your willing participation confirmed his theory: When one commits to embracing their authentic self unapologetically, life rewards them in equal measure. No one understands that like him.

No one but you.

You’ve fascinated him. Held his attention far longer than anyone has before, and there’s still so much to see. You’re not done. True freedom requires consistency. It isn’t rigid, there are no concrete rules. You’re allowed to refine your definition of self, your actions and desires and goals, as many times as you want.

In his experience, his meager goals in the beginning pale in comparison to what he has now. Rather, consistency refers to the daily commitment. Constantly proving to yourself, and everyone else by association, that you know your worth and will settle for nothing less.

Today marks a boost in your progress but you have much further to go. Still, this request proves to him, to yourself, that you are changed. You’re deliberately walking the path to release your worries and fears so that you can step, unrestricted, into the shoes you were always meant to fill.

Gradually returning to the perfect soul you were when you entered this world, ready and willing to do and have whatever you wanted. It will take time (decades) to find your way back to that level of self-determination. But, it is possible. You’ll find that it gets easier with practice. This is a good start.

You’re beginning to see him. To know better. There’s no need to settle for less than you deserve. You belong to him more than anyone ever has before. More than anyone ever will.

For you, he’s willing to bend, if only to watch your eyes flare to life for longer than a few moments at a time. He’s been plagued with the possibility you might share his drive to be your best self, your true self. If you are anything like him, your soul demands you put your needs above all else in your life. Including the Strongest Sorcerer in History. You are right to expect this. Just as he is right to challenge your expectation.

You’ve already repeated yourself once, a concession he would never give. No matter. The point is not to become him (impossible), rather to let go of everything holding you back from living your life the way you’re meant to. Sukuna would wait for no one to carry out his own wishes. He would take delight in the act of handling them personally.

You might have tried to do the same, if your goal was to impress him.

But it’s not his approval you seek. This is all about you. You, who could be marching them out the doors at this very second, using whatever means necessary to make them comply. Instead, you choose to state your expectation and wait for him to meet it.

There is no bloodlust within you demanding satisfaction. You are no killer. You simply wish to be acknowledged in the way you know you deserve. With such a clear yet open-ended goal in mind, the method to reach it is inconsequential.

You know as well as he that these women do not need to die. But you chose him to fulfill your request. Sukuna, a man who kills for sport, who will take every chance to play. He is no savior. If he is to release anyone from anything, he’d start with releasing their souls from their bodies by way of a gruesome death. You’re no killer, but you’ve allowed space in your words for him to interpret your message as he sees fit, so long as the prime objective is met. In following your selfish desire, you’ve made a choice that perfectly complements his own chosen path.

Your power is entirely different from his own, yet it seems your impact has the potential to be no less devastating. This is the way you make things happen in your world. You are fascinating. Perhaps he’s met his match.

It may be early to tell as of yet. You’ve still got much room to grow. This is just a rung on the ladder you’re building to reach past the glass ceiling you’ve imposed on you’re highest self. Are you truly ready to take this step? His "why?" is part curiosity part test— to see if you buckle, shrink yourself to appease him instead of standing in your truth, no matter the consequence.

He notices your stiff posture, tight shoulders and clenched fists. This is not easy for you. A big step. For that reason, he’s all the more pleased to note that, for all your trembling, your gaze hasn’t dropped once. Your eyes lock steady on his as you direct him, finally staking your claim.

“When they’re gone, come to me.”

Your wish is his command.

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Later that night, after all the screams have finally died down (cries of love and pleasure— you; shrieks of death and terror— them), you’re cuddled, panting and secure in his arms. You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt so satisfied. Your entire life has led up to this moment, the mere tip of your iceberg, and already it is more than words can say. You’ve long accepted his desire to kill, but to witness him kill for you is… better than sex.

Invigorating.

Your body is spent, but, inside, you're buzzing. Full of energy. Not cursed energy, but the regular, marvelous energy available to us all. Energy that you’ve created just by doing what you wanted. Energy that you can use to fulfill any other wish you could ever have. It’s addicting.

You could live in this moment, here in his arms, for the rest of your life yet, as wonderful as it is, it would not be enough. This is just a taste of the life you could lead— the power you could wield. There’s no way you can stop now.

Still, if there’s one thing you’ve learned so far, it’s to treat every loss as a learning experience and every win as the greatest victory yet. A year in and you’ve already bagged the King of Curses? You’re on a fucking roll. You fully intend to bask in this moment.

“Ryomen…”

You stare into his eyes as you gently trace your fingers along the markings so unique to him, daring to say the words no person has ever been free to speak before.

“You’re mine now.”

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a/n: if you made it this far, thanks for reading my first story. after being an avid fanfiction reader for many years and across many fandoms, jujutsu kaisen is the one that finally got me to write 😂 i regret nothing.

#stjuice writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #sukuna fanfic

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