#LED Intelligent Light Control

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Negligence.

Pairing: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).

A Continuation of Nursle.

Word Count: 9.0k.

TW: Dub/Con - Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Kidnapping, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Lactation, Geto and Gojo Have Their Own Thing Going On That Is Entirely Separate From The Events of This Fic, and Age Gaps. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One] [Part Two]

Suguru wouldn’t let you hold Himari.

You’d offered to as he led you out of Suguru’s apartment, reached for her instinctively as he gently urged you into the passenger seat of a familiar black car, but Suguru was in a fugue state – eyes glassy, voice softened and tempered, a glazed smile painted over his lips. He kept Himari pressed against his shoulder, and then, when she started to stir, in his lap, bouncing idly on his knee as he drove. It was dangerous – for Himari and for you. You were tempted to tell him that, to insist on holding the daughter that wasn’t supposed to belong to him, but then you remembered that he was a cult leader and a kidnapper and a murderer and you kept your mouth shut.

Instead, you kept your hands tucked between your thighs and your eyes focused on the passing landscape, on Tokyo as it dwindled from skyscrapers to rustic storefronts to backwoods. You thought of Megumi, first, surprisingly. Even if he didn’t spend the night with Satoru, he’d notice if you weren’t in class, tomorrow. He’d be worried.

You wondered if Nanako and Mimiko had been worried when they suddenly couldn’t find you in Suguru’s bedroom, where you’d spent the days following Himari’s birth recovering, when you stopped appearing at Suguru’s temple with a folder of worksheets and enough candy to keep two girls under ten engaged for a full ninety minutes. You wondered how Suguru explained your absence, if he bothered to explain it at all. You wondered how long they’d hold it against you.

It was getting dark by the time you left the city entirely. With the setting sun to your backs, Suguru slipped onto a deserted seaside road and, still in that gentle tone, broke the silence. “Was it different?” And then, as Himari sniffled, “With him, I mean. Different than it was for us.”

It took you a moment to realize that he was talking, another to recognize that you were supposed to answer. It was less that you were lost in thought and more that you were lost in the absence of it – your mind a vague, cloudy haze of static and fog and every other grey, disembodied, terrible thing that could seep its way into your consciousness and leave you entirely blank, entirely numb. It was all you could do to remember how to open your mouth, let alone piece an intelligent response together. “With Satoru?”

“Satoru,” Suguru repeated, almost disdainfully. “It took you months to call by my given name.”

You couldn’t deny that, although part of you was tempted to try. Because it was true. Because it had.

Because it was different – or, it had been, at least. Things had moved so quickly, with Satoru. He’d gone from a stranger to a stalker to something not totally unlike a partner in a handful of hours, and you’d watched it all from a distance, never fully able to shake that strange sense of liminality. He was rich, and stable, and he’d never suggested that you quit your job or attempted to lock you up in his mansion of an apartment, as trapped as you’d felt. He’d raped you, but you couldn’t say you believed Suguru wouldn’t have, had you not been so terrified of what would happen if you ever tried to remove any part of yourself from his control. You knew, rationally, that they had to be around the same age, that Satoru shared every quirk and every immaturity that’d once made you disgusted to so much consider Suguru in a romantic light, but it was different. When you first met Satoru, you’d seen him as a parent, a provider, a man who wanted to raise your daughter (albeit, with or without your consent). When you first met Suguru, you’d seen him as a boy who fell asleep in temple gardens and pretended not to be as scared as he really was, and if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you’d never really been able to stop seeing him that way.  

Suguru clicked his tongue. He still wanted an answer, but it was all you could do to shrug, to let your gaze drift back to the passing landscape. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t think I would’ve wanted to marry him either, if he’d asked me to.”

You heard Suguru shift, the engine rev. He started to say something, but a shrill, ear-piercing, howl of a cry cut him off. You didn’t need to check to know it was Himari, and to know why.

“She’s hungry.” You spoke without thinking, snapping toward your daughter. You’d been on your way to feed her when you found Suguru next to her cradle, meaning she was already more than an hour past due. Himari didn’t cry often, but when she did, it was usually for a good reason. Yet another trait that must’ve come from Suguru – had she taken more closely after you, she might not have done anything but cry.

Something crossed across Suguru’s expression; a flash of irritation, a spark of anger, but nothing more violent, nothing lasting. He cooled back into stoic neutrality as one of his hands fell away from the wheel and to the back of your daughter’s onesie – lifting her out of her lap and depositing her unceremoniously in your arms, his eyes never leaving the road. “Can you take care of it?”

It. You had to dig your teeth into the side of your tongue just to stop from saying something you’d regret, from telling him not to talk about your daughter like some unfeeling, inanimate object, not to talk about her at all. You were in a car with a murderer, and you couldn’t forget that just because of some misplaced, motherly paranoia.

Instead, you looked around for a jacket, a blanket, something to cover yourself with, and when you found the car utterly and entirely barren, you settled for turning away from him and struggling the sleeve of your dress off of your shoulder. You went through the motions mechanically, automatically – cooing and running your fingers through Himari’s soft hair as she latched on, little hands grasping the scrunched fabric of your dress as she practically fed herself. You preferred formula, especially with Satoru breathing down your neck, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

A minute passed in relative silence, Himari’s crying slowly fading back into her usual incoherent, but relatively cheerful babbling. Eventually, her little eyes fluttered shut, and you pulled her away, holding her against your shoulder as she fell asleep. When she’d gone quiet, Suguru glanced toward you out of the corner of his eye. You saw him stiffen, straighten, then felt the car veer off the road and come to an abrupt, jeering stop.

You held Himari that much closer as Suguru let himself out. He took his time – his fingertips brushing over the hood as he made his way to your side of the vehicle, opening your door and nodding to the side. “You can leave her on the seat. I promise, I’ll try to be fast.”

You clung to Himari, who shifted restlessly against you. “You really can’t leave newborns unattended, she might—”

“I’ll be fast.” That smile was back in full force, albeit cast in shadow by the quickly dimming light. “I’ve missed you.”

You didn’t want to, but he was using that tone, again – the one that meant he was already running out of patience. Leaving Himari tucked against the backrest, you let Suguru take your hand and pull you out of your seat. No sooner were you on your feet than the door was slammed shut behind you, then Suguru’s hands were on your waist, pinning you against the side of the car. The heat of the dark metal sapped into your back, your shoulders as Suguru’s mouth found its way to the side of your neck, the crook. “I’ve missed you,” he repeated, his voice airy, edging on desperation. “I thought something happened to you. You were gone, and I couldn’t find her, and I thought someone must’ve taken you, or—”

His voice cut out. He didn’t draw back, but one of his hands fell away from your waist, reappearing on the neckline of your dress. His movements were hasty, rushed, like he couldn’t tear the fabric off of your shoulders and down your chest quickly enough. You weren’t wearing a bra, but even if you had been, you doubt it would’ve been much more of a barrier. A chilled sea breeze washed over your exposed chest as Suguru’s mouth fell from your throat to your collarbone, and then to the curve of your breast, lingering. “Wanted to do this since you got pregnant,” he muttered, as something heavy and spiked dropped from your diaphragm to the pit of your stomach. “Held off for the baby, but she’s had more than enough time with you.”

For a brief moment, every intelligent part of your mind seemed to slow, stall, then stop altogether. You opened your mouth, ready to ask what he meant, but unfortunately, you weren’t given the chance to be so painfully oblivious.

Suguru’s lips latched onto your left nipple, and anything you might’ve said was replaced with a hitched whimper.

He was rougher than he really had to be, than his daughter had ever been. The only thing you could think to compare him to, deservedly, was Satoru; just as forceful, just as loud, just as sickeningly eager. The only difference was his tempo. Satoru had always been too giddy not to rush, eager to steal a kiss before you left for work or wake you up with a hand lodged between your thighs, but Suguru seemed content to act as if he had all the time in the world, as if you were somewhere more private than the shoulder of a public road. The flat of his tongue lulled over your nipple as he drank, his free hand coming up to paw at your other breast in almost meditative patterns. You tried to shut your eyes, to block out the wet sounds of his lips working against your skin, but as routine as it was supposed to be, there was little you could do not to hear an occasional, satisfied grunt, not to feel a certain amount of relief as the pressure you’d learned to ignore began to dissipate. His teeth grazed against your skin, and reflexively, your hand found the back of his head, nails biting into his scalp. Rather than pull away, Suguru seemed to purr – the noise deep and throaty, reverberating against you as he leaned that much closer, as he shifted and you felt something stiff press into your thigh. Don’t think about it, you forced yourself to chant in the back of your mind, trying to remember all the age-old coping mechanisms you’d used when you were with him, all the coping mechanisms you’d forgotten after realizing that they wouldn’t work on someone as unpredictable as Satoru. You couldn’t think about it. You couldn’t put a name to it. You couldn’t acknowledge that sucking on chest was in any way connected to the hard, pulsing cock pressing into your—

But you didn’t have a choice. Suguru gasped, his breath hitching, and then he was drawing away from you, his forehead resting against your collarbone as a hand fell to the waistband of his jeans, freeing his cock – already stiff, already leaking into his palm. “I missed you.” You’d lost track of how many times he’d repeated the same meaningless phrase, but this time, his voice shook, misery seeping out from each fractured syllable. You might’ve felt more pity, but any sympathy you might’ve been able to feel for him was quickly drowned out by the material of your skirt being gathered in handfuls at your waist, his cock finding its way between your plush thighs. His larger body kept yours in place as he rutted against you, his open mouth leaking drool and milk and all the other ungodly things you could imagine onto your chest. It was embarrassing, really – just how tightly you kept your eyes shut, like a child walking through their first haunted house. Like all the bad things in the world would go away just because you couldn’t see them. “For weeks, I couldn’t—I didn’t know where you were, I thought—”

His form jolted against yours. You felt it – a sudden, liquid heat against your thighs, a sudden tension where Suguru’s chest pressed into yours – at the same time you felt the first tear fall, searing your skin where it made contact. There was another, then yet another, before you finally realized what was happening.

Suguru was crying.

Huh.

He’d never done that, before.

Finally, you forced yourself to open your eyes. Rather than attempting to look at Suguru, to see if his shoulders were shaking as violently as it felt like they were, your gaze moved outward, first to the bay, then to the sky – as black as spilled ink, now that the last traces of light had faded. As black as Suguru’s eyes.

You carded your fingers through his hair as he cried silently into your shoulder, never making a sound. Minutes passed before he spoke again, but you let him be the one to break the silence. “I don’t get it.” You hummed, and he went on. “I don’t understand why you didn’t try to leave him, too.”

“I might’ve, eventually. If I’d had more time.”

“But you didn’t.” His blunt nails bit into your waist with enough force to sting, but you didn’t say anything. “I don’t understand why you didn’t.”

You didn’t try to answer.

~

Suguru stopped at a gas station to clean himself up. You stayed in the car, clutching Himari to your chest, attempting not to flinch as her tiny hands pulled at your hair and grabbed at your skirt – searching for something to do, to entertain herself with. The rest of the drive passed in relative silence. Suguru didn’t try to make conversation, and even if you’d wanted to, you wouldn’t know where to start.

Finally, Suguru turned down an unpaved backroad, and far too soon, you were in front of a house you recognized. The architecture was traditional, the design compact, but you could remember Suguru saying that he and the girls didn’t need much. Later on, when he decided you shouldn’t be allowed to wander any farther than his line of sight during your pregnancy, he’d played with the idea of a larger property – something that could accommodate a growing family. If he’d ever had any real plans, they must’ve been abandoned after you left.

“We’re only stopping by,” Suguru explained, as he moved to step out. You didn’t wait for him this time – shouldering the door open and pulling yourself to your feet before he could decide he needed to drag you out of the car himself. “There’s a nursery attached to the master bedroom. The girls can look after Himari while we’re gone.”

Your breathing hitched, then stopped altogether.

The girls.

You’d managed to forget you’d have to see them, tonight. Suguru would’ve been enough to handle on his own.

You tried to take a step back, more out of reflex than anything, but your legs were unsteady, unreliable. You stumbled, but before you could so much as start to fall, Suguru was by your side, one hand on your arm and the other underneath Himari. He started to say something, but you were faster, louder. “I—I can’t. They’ll be so—I knew you wouldn’t hurt them, but I shouldn’t have—”

“They’ll be just fine.” He wasn’t crying, anymore. Instead, he took on the inflection, the stature he’d worn when you first met him – when he’d been the level-headed priest and you’d been a distraught non-believe desperate for help. If you hadn’t known better, if you couldn’t still see the reddened skin around his eyes, you might’ve called his composure sadistic. “And they’ve been waiting for you all night. Wouldn’t it be cruel to disappoint them now?”

It'd be crueler to make them face the woman who’d married their father and abandoned them without a second thought, but you doubted Suguru would agree. He was already curling his arm around yours, already guiding you towards the rustic villa. Whatever daze was keeping you from losing your mind entirely must’ve worn-off sometime during the drive. It was all you could do to keep yourself on your feet as you edged closer, closer to the front door. You were walking down the unpaved driveway, then standing on the wooden porch, and then, Suguru was ushering you inside – taking Himari out of your arms as you passed over the threshold. You didn’t try to resist. He wouldn’t ask the girls to hurt her, not after how long he’d spent holding the idea of a new, adorably helpless little sister over their heads, and wherever he was going to do to you after this, you didn’t want Himari involved. You didn’t want to give him an excuse to use her against you.

Suguru moved further into the villa, but you froze in the entryway. You could already hear the little, rushing footsteps, already picture the betrayal in their eyes, the questions they’d ask you and the answers you wouldn’t be able to give them. They’d hate you. They had to already hate you. You abandoned them, and they would know you abandoned them, and they would—

Two arms wrapping around your legs, the force of a smaller body crashing into yours. You glanced down and found Mimiko, clinging to your waist, her face buried in the material of your skirt. She wasn’t crying, but you could see her shoulders shaking, feel her nails digging into your thigh through the thin fabric. Reflexively, you reached down, resting a hand on top of her head and moving to nudge her away gently, to see if she needed help, but she only clung to you that much tighter.

Nanako was there, too, but she hadn’t latched onto you. Unlike her sister, she kept her distance, hands ringing the hem of her sweater as she stared pointedly at the floor. “Geto-sama told us what happened,” she explained, while Mimiko mumbled something incoherent and affirmative into your skirt. “He said that sorcerer – the white-haired one – took you and Himari away.” There was a pause, a quick glance in your direction. “He promised he wouldn’t let it happen again.”

Her eyes met yours, and suddenly, her nervous posture, the measured distance left between you and her – it made sense. You recognize the light in her eyes, or rather, the lack therefore.

It was the same shadow her father’s eyes took on, when he looked at you.

Whatever lie he’d told them, Nanako clearly didn’t believe it. Mimiko – sweet and loyal and prone to holding onto the things she loved like there was someone could come and take them away at any time – would’ve believed Suguru if he told her that world ended every time she closed her eyes, but Nanako was more pragmatic. She knew something was wrong. You doubted she would speak to you at all if she knew just how wrong, but still.

Swallowing your guilt, you lowered yourself to one knee and hugged Mimiko properly, squeezing her for one beat, then another, before letting her go entirely. Nanako was next. For all her reservations, she was running towards you as soon as you opened your arms to her, crashing into your chest and clinging to you twice as tightly as her sister had. “I’m sure he won’t,” you mumbled into her hair. And then, pulling back, “I know I was gone for a while, but it’s alright. The sorcerer Geto-sama told you about – he just wanted a little advice. He had two children he was raising all on his own, just like Geto. He heard all about how wonderful you two are, and wanted to know if I could stay and show him how to bring up the best kids in the world.” A kiss on either forehead, a thumb drawn over Mimiko’s cheeks to wipe away the tears she was frantically (and unsuccessfully) attempting to paw away on her own. “But, although I was very flattered, I told him that I had to go home. I knew you two would be fine, of course, but let’s face it – Geto wouldn’t last a day without me.”

It was your turn to pause, now, to lower your voice into something secretive. Mimiko was still sniffling, still determined to keep her face buried in her hands or your shoulder, but you made sure to meet Nanako’s eyes, to sound as sincere as you could – even if complete honesty was beyond you, at the moment. “Don’t tell Geto, but I missed you two most of all.”

Nanako looked like she wanted to say something. She almost did, too – tensing, opening her mouth, but she shut it again just as quickly, her eyes falling back to the ground in a sharp, violently narrow glare.

The pain was instant and beyond words. You wanted to pull her and Mimiko close again, to squeeze them tight and promise you wouldn’t leave them, not again, to apologize when you’d inevitably have to for the sake of a sister you hadn’t given them time to love. You wanted to—

You heard Suguru’s footsteps, felt his hand on your shoulder, and every thought you might’ve had that wasn’t devoted to your daughter’s well-being was gone.

Rather than embracing the girls, you drew back from them. Suguru pulled you gently to your feet, his hand falling from your shoulder to your elbow before wrapping around your wrist. “Keep an eye on your sister.” You could only be thankful there was still an ounce of warmth in his voice, as he addressed the girls. “(Y/n) and I have one more errand to run. We’re trusting you two to look after her, until we come back.”

You might’ve added something, made sure they both knew that you really had missed them, but Suguru was already drawing you towards the door – still ajar. The last thing you saw was Nanako taking Mimiko by the wrist before the door was slammed shut, and you were left entirely alone with Suguru.

~

Of all the places you expected him to take you, his temple hadn’t made the list.

His followers must’ve been sent away for the night, and the property’s attendants either dismissed or told to stay in their dorms. Every window was dark and shuttered, the gates locked and the doors bared. As you followed Suguru across the desolate courtyard and into the main shrine, you tried to think of places you would’ve wanted to be taken to, but came up empty. Part of you had been expecting the cheap, equally lifeless chain motels he’d shown a fondness for during your pregnancy, or worse, the hotel where you’d spent your first night together. Another, larger, quieter part had been able to imagine him driving into the deepest, darkest forest he could find and having his monstrous spirits tear you to shreds before you could so much as scream.

His ultimate destination was far from shocking, and yet, you still felt your heart drop into your stomach as he led you into his darkened sanctuary. As if in preparation, two tapered candles had been left burning in metal trays on either side of the screen door, and Suguru took one up as he passed by. You were left to linger in the doorway as, with a surprising meticulousness, he lit the candles scattered throughout the sanctuary, casting the open space in an ebbing golden glow. When he was finished, he collapsed onto his raised dais – perched on its edge, rather than laid across it. He almost looked out of place, without his usual costume, his usual posture. He almost looked his age.

You didn’t move. Running seemed impossible, but so did breaking the silence, doing anything to make yourself an active participant in Suguru’s bizarre ritual rather than a passive observer, a prop to be moved from place to place with little thought as to where you might want to be. A moment passed in silence, then another. Finally, he cracked. “Sit down.”

You didn’t move. “Are you going to kill me?”

He didn’t react. “All I asked you to do was sit down, love.”

“Are you going to kill Himari?”

He flinched into himself, going crooked. Something like hurt passed across his expression, as genuine as it was hypocritical.

He didn’t respond, but either out of pity or remorse or a lack of anything else to do, you found yourself closing the gap between you and him, setting yourself down on the edge of his platform. Immediately, his head fell onto your shoulder, his hand to your thigh, as if he was afraid you’d leave him again if he didn’t cling to you. “…I thought about breaking your legs,” he confessed, without prompting. “I was angry, when I realized you hadn’t been taken by force. I thought I’d be able to do it in Satoru’s apartment, leave enough blood to make him think I’d killed you, but—” There was a pause, a slow shake of his head. “I don’t know. I guess I waited too long, lost the nerve or something.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” And then, when he shifted curiously beside you, “It would’ve scared the girls. They’re already having such a hard time.”

At that, Suguru melted entirely against you. There was an airy laugh, a small sigh, and you felt his hand on your hip, his thumb drawing loose patterns into your side. “So considerate,” he muttered, nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder. “Maybe, one day, you’ll care about me like that, too.”

A knot formed in the back of your throat. It wasn’t that you didn’t care for him – or, that you hadn’t, before he made it clear that the ways you were capable of caring for him weren’t enough. If you hadn’t felt anything for him, none of this would’ve ever happened. If he’d been satisfied to let you feel the same way about him that you felt about his daughters, it would never have gotten this bad. If you’d just laid back and let him fuck you the first time he’d asked, he would’ve lost interest in you months ago. You almost said so, too, tensed and opened your mouth and everything, but Suguru was moving before you had the chance to spit something out, his mouth crashing into yours with all the care and all the tenderness of a blunt object shattering bone. His teeth cut into your bottom lip, his body pressing into yours with enough force to throw you off balance, but his arms were already around your waist, keeping you upright. It was less that he slid off of the dais and more that he collapsed – dropping onto his knees at your feet, as little difference as it made in terms of height. He never let you stray very far, but tonight, he seemed determined never to leave more than a hair’s width of space between your body and his. His lips fell from your mouth to your neck, his hands finding their way to your hips. One darted for your neckline, but dropped back to your waist just as suddenly – all ten fingers soon burrowed into the plush of your waist.

“Your dress.” He wasn’t panting, wasn’t grinning, wasn’t laughing. His voice reverberated dully against the base of your throat, his pointed canines scraping over your skin as he spoke. “Take it off.”

You swallowed. Normally, he preferred to undress and re-dress you himself. You’d been scolded more than once for thinking you had any right to decide what you wore without his loving input, and when pressed, he claimed it was a show of love; proof of his dedication, his devotion.

This wasn’t about love, though, or dedication, or any other flowery word he’d ever used with you.

This was about control.

Your hands shook as you raised them to the back of your dress, finding the row of corset-type strings keeping the loose material in place. You fumbled with the knot for seconds, but Suguru was patient, willing to wait until the bodice fell away from your chest entirely, pooling at your midriff. You weren’t wearing a bra (again, an extremely difficult habit not to get into with a newborn at home), and one of Suguru’s hands came up, a scarred palm cupping your breast with enough force to bruise. You remembered, dimly, the time he’d spent pulled over by the side of the road earlier that day, but the memory was foggy, already so far away. You wouldn’t have been surprised if all of this seemed like one hazy, distant dream by tomorrow morning.

He detached from you suddenly, pulling away and kneeling on the sanctuary floor. Rather than relief, you only felt the world distort more violently around you; your pulse slowing and your vision burning as you clumsily pushed yourself to your feet, allowing your dress to fall away entirely. You moved to sit back down, but Suguru caught you before you could – his fist wrapping around your ankle, then skirting upward, settling gingerly against your thigh as his dark, soulless eyes raked over you. His stare caught on your panties, and his expression darkened. “I’m going to kill him.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. The pair had been Satoru’s pick; not quite a gift, but something given to you, regardless. They matched his aesthetics – needlessly detailed, smothered in lace, cast a shade of light blue so pale, it bordered on ivory. With how expensive Satoru’s tastes tended to run, you were sure the set had cost a fortune, but the priceless fabric gave away without protest as Suguru slipped two fingers under the waistband and tore. The ruined article fell away before you could so much as process that he’d moved.

Suguru’s impressive patience waned quickly. In the same motion, he pushed himself to his feet and took you into his arms, carrying you against his chest onto the dais, then to the altar pressed against the far wall. The scrolls laid across it were sent to floor with a single movement of his arm, and in the blink of an eye, you were laid across the polished wood, Suguru on his knees between your open legs. Your mouth opened, but there was no time to protest, to call out before his face was buried between his thighs, tongue lapping over the length of your slit. Still, you grit your teeth, bracing yourself to sit up, to tell him to—

Oh.

He'd gotten his tongue pierced, sometime after you left.

He was shameless. A rounded, jeweled stud dragged over your pussy, circling your clit with no pattern or pace, no intention other than to taste you. Never content to leave you to your own devices, he kept his hands wrapped around your hips, pinning you to the surface of the altar as he tried to all-but swallow you whole. It was messy, and overzealous, and worst of all, it was good. It was a matter of seconds before a mixture of spit and arousal stained the inside of your thighs and dripped from his chin, less than a full minute before you had to concentrate just to keep yourself from squirming underneath him. Not that it would’ve mattered, if you had. Suguru had always been playful in bed, content to milk reactions out of you with measured precision and careful vigilance, but that had been when you at least attempted to present yourself as willing. Right now, anything you might’ve felt seemed secondary to Suguru’s pleasure; satisfied groans soon joining the slick, wet noise ricocheting off the walls of his sanctuary. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, crossed your arms over your face, but neither distraction helped to stifle the feeling of his lips latching onto your clit, suckling on it with all the care and all the delicacy of a butcher’s knife cutting into lifeless flesh. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes by the time he pulled away, but the pressure was immediately replaced by the bridge of his nose grinding harshly against the bundle of nerves, his tongue slipping past your entrance to curl against the most vulnerable parts of your cunt.

He let out another reverberating moan, and reflexively, your hand shot to the back of his head, your fingers soon tangled in his dark hair. One of his hands fell from your waist, and for a moment, you thought he was moving to pry away yours, that he didn’t want you touching him. But, fortunately or otherwise, his attention wasn’t on you. Instead, he reached for the elastic band holding his hair in place, pulling it out with enough force to snap the cheap plastic. You didn’t realize what he was trying to do until you felt him lean into your palm, his eyes fluttering shut as he melted into the semblance of your touch.

If you’d been capable of feeling anything more towards Suguru than you already did, you might’ve found the sight pitiful.

At the moment, though, you weren’t in a place to be quite so sentimental. It was all you could do to knot his hair around your fingers as you felt tight and hot form in your core, as your thighs threatened to snap shut around his head. You bit into the inside of your check with enough force to draw blood as Suguru moaned shamelessly, as he dragged you that much closer. It was too easy to forget to care whether or not he’d enjoyed it, too reflexive to gather his hair in your first and pull, to buck involuntarily into his mouth, to—

Suguru drew back suddenly, pushing himself to his feet. Thankfully, you caught yourself before you could feel disappointment, and after a few shallow breaths, found the strength to follow his stare away from you and towards the sanctuary door. Instantly, your heart stopped beating, the blood running cold in your veins.

Satoru stood in the doorway, cast in shadow save for his bright, piercing eyes. One of his hands was still wrapped around the doorframe, while the other hung limp at his side, cupping a small, pulsing ball of… light?

You didn’t have time to think about it. Suguru acted swiftly – pulling you into his arms and onto his lap, seating himself on the altar where you’d previously laid. “Drop it,” he said, his tone cold, cutting, not unlike an owner talking to his disobedient pet. He’d been short with you all night, but you couldn’t say he’d ever spoken to you quite like that. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

The light dimmed before disappearing entirely, but Satoru didn’t move. He didn’t do anything, but you could feel it – a drop in the sanctuary’s temperature, a change in the air pressure, something deep and intrinsic that you didn’t want to be a part of. Reflexively, you tried to stand, to move, but Suguru held you tight, an arm barred over your midriff.

Despite everything, Satoru was the first to break the silence, albeit without doing anything to make that intangible tension any more bearable. “I should kill you.”

“You should.” Suguru’s fingertips dug into your side. “Those are your orders, aren’t they? Or are you going to put off delivering my head to the higher-ups for another three years?”

Whatever he was talking about, Satoru didn’t seem interested in acknowledging it. “You took my girls.”

“You fucked my wife.”

At that, something seemed to break. Suguru’s chest pressed into your back as Satoru’s eyes shut, as he sucked in a harsh breath and broke out into a fanged grin, the sharpest you’d ever seen him wear. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He took a step forward, all hostility gone in favor of a sort of manic, unpredictable buzz. You didn’t know whether to be relieved that there was a slightly diminished chance you’d be caught in the middle of their fight to the death or terrified at the thought that they might want to do anything but tear out each others’ throats. “I fucked her after she left you. Bet you can’t stand it – knowing you’re not the only one who gets to run away.”

Suguru, for all his faults, didn’t flinch. He’d always had an even-temper at the worst of time. “What do you want, ‘toru?”

Satoru’s stare fell away from Suguru and onto you. His expression softened, taking on an almost apologetic lilt. Almost, but not quite.

“Not much,” he admitted, with a shrug. Even from a distance, even in the dark, you could tell his nonchalance was forced. “Just to say goodbye, make sure my pretty girl’s gonna be taken care of. Gotta wrap up loose ends, n’ all that.”

Suguru, for his part, seemed far from convinced. His grip didn’t loosen; if anything, he only held you closer. “And why should I let you?”

“Because I love her?” And then, with another step toward the altar, “Because you know I could wipe this building off the face of the planet, if I wanted to.”  

Pragmatic as he was, Suguru seemed to consider it. The hand over your side flexed, a chin settling against the dip of your shoulder, and beneath you, his stiff cock pressed into your ass – either unaffected or worse, fueled on by Satoru’s interruption. You were still attempting not to dwell on the implications when Suguru responded, level-headed as always.

“If you try anything, I’ll kill the baby.”

The second before a car crash, the spark where two wires failed to connect. For the longest time, you couldn’t seem to process what he’d said or how it could’ve been so gut-wrenchingly terrible. Rather than pull away, you flattened yourself against him, glancing over your shoulder. You opened your mouth, but the ability to speak was suddenly beyond you, set deliberately out of your reach. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it, and yet, his expression was stoic, unchanging, the pinnacle of neutrality. There was no laugh from Satoru either, forced or otherwise. Still, he kept up his smile. As if Suguru hadn’t said anything of consequence. As if either of them had any right to so much as touch your daughter.

Satoru didn’t respond to the threat, nor did Suguru urge him to. Almost mechanically, Suguru’s arm fell away from your midriff, and with little more than a nudge to the back of your shoulder, you were on your feet, vulnerable and shaking on the center of the raised dais. You could still feel a mix of slick and saliva coating the inside of your thighs, and you had to swallow the urge to make a grab for your clothes, to put yourself through the humiliation of being forced to strip twice in one night.

 Thankfully, tragically, you were liberated from any illusion of free choice swiftly. Without protest from Suguru, Satoru stepped onto the dais and took you by the hand, either overlooking or failing to acknowledge the panic in your eyes in favor of intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing gently, as if you could still believe he genuinely wanted to comfort you. Rather than pulling you into his arms, dragging you down to the floor, he looked to Suguru, cocking his head to the side. “Get up.”

Suguru’s lips quirked downward, but he obeyed, pushing himself to his feet. “How blasphemous.”

Now, he pulled you off of your feet. In a moment, you were in his arms, and the next, you were perched on the altar, your back pressed against the wall and your legs spread around Satoru’s waist. “Blasphemous,” Satoru echoed, his voice low but plainly audible in the silence of the sanctuary. “would be fucking the most beautiful woman in the world on the ground. That’s why I’m her favorite – ‘cause I’m so considerate.”

No part of you trusted Suguru. No part of you preferred Suguru to Satoru, or the other way around. No part of you thought that, unless your life or his pride was threatened, he’d ever lift a finger to help you, but you found yourself glancing toward him out of the corner of your eye, doing your best to silently communicate that you needed to get out of here. Instead of sympathy, jealousy, you only found an idle smirk, a glassy sheen over his eyes that you could only imagine you’d mirrored for most of the day. “You’re not the one she’s married to, idiot.”

There was a dip, a surprisingly fleeting kiss to your lips, then your jaw, then your throat. “But she would get with me if you were out of the picture, right?” The question was punctuated with a nip to your collarbone, a hand dropped low enough to cup your pussy. The heel of his palm ground into your clit as two fingers pushed into your soaked cunt, spreading apart and scissoring you open. You tried to bow your head, to keep your eyes closed and your mouth shut, but you were still sensitive from your ruined climax, still so painfully exposed, and there was nothing you could do to bite back the cracked whines and pitiful mewls that slipped through your pursed lips. It was far from verbal confirmation, but Satoru hummed, grinned against your chest as if you’d sung his praises. “I’d get you a nicer ring, nicer house, nicer honeymoon. Always make sure you’re good n’ taken care of while Suguru’s busy playing god.”

Suguru huffed, and Satoru fell into a steady pace, adding a third digit as he carelessly fucked his fingers into your cunt. You didn’t hear him move, but before you could brace yourself, Suguru was at your side, leaning onto the altar to cup your face and trace over your jaw with the pad of his thumb. “I take care of you, don’t I?” You opened your mouth reflexively, ready to tell him that you were sorry, that you didn’t want him to touch you, that you wanted this to stop, but he was faster than you, more malicious. His thumb was forced past your lips before you could make a sound, pressed against the flat of your tongue with just enough force for your jaw to ache in protest. “I can’t blame Satoru for not being able to see that, though. Not when you treat me so cruelly.”

Cruelly. You’d never been cruel – at least, no crueler than you absolutely needed to be to survive. You felt pins and needles prick at the corners of your eyes before you noticed your vision blurring, before tears were streaming down either side of your face in boiling tracks. Satoru purred in sympathy, falling low and nuzzling into the tender spot at the base of your throat, flicking his wrist and burying himself inside of you to the knuckle. “You don’t have to worry, I know he’s the mean one.”

He was whispering, but that didn’t matter. He was too close, too awful for each word not to be absolutely deafening, for each little movement of his hand not to leave your nails scraping against the smooth wood of the altar, searching for purchase you wouldn’t find. Time was moving too quickly, it had been since you arrived at the temple. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t pull away, couldn’t breathe before Satoru pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the side of your neck and you were coming undone around his fingers, your thighs locking around his arm and keeping his digits inside of you until you could remember how to suck in a gasping inhale, until the last of the aftershocks faded and you could bring yourself to open your eyes. It wasn’t until the warmth of Satoru’s mouth fell away from your neck that you noticed the strange, copper tinge spread over your tongue, that you registered the absence of Suguru’s hand against your jaw. When you thought to look in his direction, he was evaluating his own hand. A thin, red line formed a dotted ring around the base of his thumb. You must’ve bitten down, at some point.

You must’ve hurt him.

Fear drowned out any satisfaction there might’ve been. He mentioned deciding against breaking your legs, earlier; was there any chance he’d change his mind? Would Satoru be able to stop him, if he tried to hurt you? Would Satoru even want to stop him? Himari was still alone, still in danger, and you wouldn’t be able to get to her if you couldn’t walk. You wouldn’t be able to stop Suguru from—

Satoru reached out, his hand curling around Suguru’s wrist and dragging it down to his height. With Satoru’s guidance, Suguru’s thumb came to rest against his bottom lip, then slipped into Satoru’s mouth entirely, his lips soon sealed around its base. There was a second or two of stillness, a swallowing-type noise too loud to ignore despite your best attempts not to hear it, and then, Suguru was pulling away and Satoru’s lips were crashing into yours.

It was strange for Suguru to be so clumsy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be as surprised by Satoru’s lack of polish. It was all you could do to choke back a renewed sob as his mouth moved against yours, as his pointed teeth ghosted over your lips and grazed the underside of your tongue. He was all instinct, no logic, and when you tried to straighten, to leave enough room between you and him to catch your breath, he only seemed to want you closer. His hands were on your waist, then your arms, then your chest, never satisfied unless he could dig his claws into the most tender parts of you, and this time, when his canines grazed over your lips, he wasn’t satisfied to leave your connection at contact alone. He let out a shameless moan as he lapped at the puncture wound, warm blood leaking down your chin and pooling on your chest where it pressed into his. Again, you looked to Suguru for help, and again, you immediately wished you hadn’t bothered.

He wasn’t perched on the altar, anymore. No – he’d shifted, slinked, positioned himself behind Satoru where he was bent at the waist. He caught your eye as his arms snaked around Satoru’s midriff, as Satoru arched his back to better take advantage of the new contact. There was the distant, muffled sound of fabric rustling, a keening whine from Satoru, and then, Suguru’s hand was curled around Satoru’s stiff, leaking cock – pumping over the shaft while his dark eyes burned holes into yours. “Get it over with,” he muttered, the bitter sterility of his tone a sharp juxtaposition to the grin creeping across his expression. “Before I remember why I want you dead.”

Satoru didn’t have to be coaxed into compliance. No, he let himself be eased into place, let Suguru slot himself against his back as he carefully aligned Satoru’s flushed tip to your entrance. Even after he’d let go, his hands finding the edge of the altar on either side of you, Satoru failed to move on his own. You could feel him drifting from your lips to your throat, then lower – to the crook of your neck, a spot Suguru’d always favored. Vaguely, you were aware of his lips moving against your skin, of warm breath fanning over your chest and leaving frost wherever it’d touched. His voice was muffled by proximity, but whether or not you could hear him didn’t really matter. You would’ve recognized those three little words from a thousand miles away.

“I love you.”

If you’d been able to laugh, you would’ve.

At least Satoru didn’t expect you to say it back.

Suguru must’ve missed it – that, or he was beyond the point of caring. His teeth sunk into the nape of Satoru’s neck, and then, something hot and piercing was inside of you.

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out. A fractured moan tumbled past your lips as Satoru immediately fell into a brutal pace; all that teasing tenderness gone the moment your pussy was wrapped around his cock. Suguru didn’t pull away, but he didn’t help, either; straightening his back and gazing down at you with that same foggy, absent, pleased expression. It took you a moment to put a name to it; lovestruck, all glassy eyes and hollow smiles, any anger hidden behind a thick curtain of glazed-over satisfaction. He’d never looked away from you, but when you met his eyes, he seemed to soften even further, his shoulders dropping as he brought a hand to the small of Suguru’s back, spurring him on. “He’s always been this bad.”  Suguru let out a keening whine into your shoulder, and Suguru chuckled airily. “Like a dog in heat. You’d think be as desperate as one, too, but apparently, his standards are too high for him to do anything but act like a whore.”

You couldn’t take it – the way Satoru’s hips crashed into yours, how his pubic bone ground against your clit, the pure venom interlaced with Suguru’s velvet-soft tone. You knew that it was useless, childish, but you couldn’t swallow down the cracked sob that rose up from somewhere deep and unprotected in your chest, couldn’t hold back the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. Suguru’s smile widened, his sharpened teeth catching the dull candlelight, but Satoru was kind enough not to be so observant. His attention was dedicated entirely to fucking into you as quickly and as deeply as possible; his cock never less than half buried. You felt him twitch, and before you could hold yourself back, your hands were on his back, your nails embedded in pale skin and tearing upward every time he bottomed out and sent a new type of agony coursing through your system. “Stop, stop, I can’t—”

“You can.” Clipped, concise, dripping with stone-cold affection. You’d be surprised if you ever heard any warmth in Suguru’s voice again. “That is, unless you’d like to break two hearts on the same night.”

Your mouth was still open, but you couldn’t answer. Satoru groaned as he rutted into you, his pace growing that much more erratic, his hips grinding into yours. He pulled you into another deep, copper-tinged kiss as he pressed his body flush to yours, as you felt something thick and hot and soul-crushingly familiar flood into you. It might’ve been the sensitivity, or the overstimulation, or the herbal stench of incense left to burn for a minute too long finally taking its toll – it didn’t really matter, either way. No explanation could’ve dampened the feeling of your cunt clenching tight around him, could’ve prevented the utter desolation of cumming on Satoru’s cock.

It seemed to go on for the longest time – second after second of thoughtless, helpless pleasure, century after century of Satoru against you, edging on your climax with the occasional sharp movement from his hips, a hasty kiss pressed into the corner of your jaw. Finally, after a small eternity, the last of the aftershocks faded, unwanted bliss fading into a slow, pulsing ache settled deep into the deepest pit of your chest. You felt Satoru shift; not pulling away, but lifting himself up, bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he said, again, and then, more quietly, “I’m sorry.”

You wanted to say something, to call him a liar, to spit out every venomous and vitriolic and warranted thing you could ever say to either of them, but it was already too late. Something vital slid out of place, a poor signal finally losing connection entirely, and then, everything went dark.

~

Nine months later, you’d find yourself in Suguru’s temple again, albeit not his sanctuary. A brown-haired woman in a lab coat and several female attendants swarmed around you, pressing damp cloths to your forehead and constantly rearranging the thick quilts laid over your limp body. Dried tears formed defined tracks down your cheeks, and every part of you screamed for rest, for escape, for a quick and merciful death. It was all you could do to suck in a shuddering breath, to remind yourself that there were more important things in the world than your own well-being. Sleep could wait. This couldn’t.

Slowly, you managed to turn your head towards Suguru, standing at your bedside just as he had for the past six hours. Your vision was distorted, dimmed around the edges, but it would’ve been impossible to miss the small, white bundle in his arms, already beginning to move. You could practically taste the relief, only slightly soured by your own exhaustion. Loving Himari had been a miracle. It would’ve been a lie to say that you hadn’t expected yourself to be more callous, the second time part of you was ripped away and molded into the shape of a man you hated.

Your eyes flickered to Suguru’s expression, to those impossibly dark eyes, and instantly, your relief was replaced by pure, unadulterated dread. A smile played at the corner of his mouth, softened and careless, but… Oh, god.

You’d never seen so much death in his eyes.

“Suguru.” You hadn’t meant to say anything, and yet, your voice was clear – a little hoarse, but far stronger than you felt. Never looking away from the bundle, he hummed, and you went on. “Can I see…?”

“Him,” Suguru filled in, bouncing your newborn – your son, gently. “A healthy baby boy. It’s a shame, really – I chose names with another girl in-mind.”

Thankfully, he didn’t make you ask again. With no small amount of care, the bundle was placed gently onto your chest, Suguru’s hand remaining on your shoulder – as if only waiting for your limited strength to give out. It took you a long moment to brush the swaddling sheets to the swaddling blanket aside, little hands immediately reaching up to bat against your own, and another to register what you were looking at. It wasn’t hard to see why Suguru was so angry.

You stared down at your son, and eyes more blue than the clearest, brightest sky stared back at you.

[biteofcherry]

A promise that won't be upheld

part of Venomous Vows series in collaboration with @jamneuromain

mafia!Ari Levinson x female reader

summary: Your first impression of Ari isn't exactly a bad one, but it solidifies your decision to never have anything to do with him.

warnings: mafia!Ari Levinson; mob!Ari Levinson; soft dark!Ari Levinson;

Author's Note: This is sort of prelude to everything that happens. If you read the thread that started it all (and which is the core of what happens later), you will understand the title of this ficlet - why exactly this promise won't uphold 😏🤭

The sense of power doesn’t thrum through your veins as you cut across the lavish floors of the club, even though people part aside to let you through; neither it pulses as you take the spiral staircase to the VIP upper floors, where curious and hungry gazes glance your way, but no one dared to approach. 

At least not yet. Your father’s name is enough to keep most in line, but there is always someone who would be either too dumb or too drunk to make a move on you. The fact you could get rid of him with the mere mention of your last name didn’t give you a sense of power, either.

It’s the moment when you stepped down the narrow corridor that changed from lacquered black into burnt wood panels, which finally gave way into a beautiful oasis. 

Here, in the private garden sprawling above the city, you feel that rush. 

It’s not just a VIP area. To be allowed here is to be the inner circle. The very few who your father trusted. 

Or to be a monster equally influential as him.

Ari Levinson isn’t a close associate of your father. He doesn’t belong to the inner circle. He doesn’t belong to anyone, but the hell pit alone. 

But he’s here tonight. Exchanging who knows what false politeness and cutthroat deals with your father. 

You know he’s highly intelligent, brutally fast and decisive. Father wouldn’t sit down with anyone who didn’t deserve their position of power. But he’s not the kind of man you want to spend any minute with. 

Especially not on your birthday.

“I’d ask if he’s a stripper, but I’m not yet drunk enough for playing a dumb bimbo,” your friend chuckles next to you. 

She likes to play those games, especially with the dark and dangerous crowd - whom she proves to be idiots led by dicks. She’d almost cross a boundary, but make it so cute that the most ruthless of enforcers and mob soldiers were turning smitten and protective. 

Figures she’d set her sights on Levinson. Danger always lures her. On top of that, his looks also grab full female attention.

“That one is better to be left alone.” Averting your gaze from him, you turn and walk over to the further side of the roof garden, where garlands of lights are hung above a table set for a small group of people. 

Unlike your best friend, you’re not interested in poking the dragon. 

Or to even look at him too long, in case the devil snatches your soul somehow.

You prefer your partners to be more controllable. Lawyers, who have the brains and enough cockiness to make it spicy, but won’t get an upper hand over you. Mob boys who are in the higher ranks, but didn’t display alpha male behavior. CEOs who are too busy with their own empires to be hungry for having power over you. 

“He has to be a really big deal, if you’re saying that,” your friend muses, taking a seat beside you.

And he is.

Ari Levinson isn’t a man you’d want to find yourself near. Not only because of his reputation of being a ruthless and lethal leader. But because he’s not easy to control. He never would be. 

He’s a man who grips the reins of any interaction right away, twisting and pulling and lashing with a crop until any mare submits to him fully. He’s like that in business, but you have no doubt he’d be the same in any relationship.  

“Ladies.”

A voice smooth and rich as the last sips of thick, hot chocolate, resounds unexpectedly behind you. Startling you. 

When you turn, the devil himself is standing right there. His expression is neutral, void of any mischief, or malice. 

So damn controlled. To the tiniest muscle in his handsome face. 

“Mr. Levinson.” You greet him politely, hiding your annoyance at the fact you can’t read anything off his face, or his body language.

His body - impressively broad and thick, while still holding a jungle’s predator’s grace to it - isn’t stiff in discomfort, nor is it alert for a threat. It isn’t fully relaxed either. Somehow he’s perfectly balanced and in tune with his surroundings.

Yeah, definitely a man to stay away from, if you want to maintain your goal of always being in control.

Even if a small part of you wants to stretch along that body and rub your softness everywhere where he is hard.

“Wanted to pay my respects and wish you a happy birthday,” Levinson inclines his head your way. 

“Thank you.” It calms you, realizing it’s just a typical show of manners, which the mafia world puts such emphasis on while not batting an eye at killing. It’s quite comical. 

“I must admit, I’m surprised.” He adds, his tone for the first time betraying some kind of emotion.

Amusement?

“A mafia princess’ birthday being so modest? No party for hundreds of people and social media pictures? You must be setting new standards.” 

He doesn’t laugh, nor smirk, but you notice the way his blue eyes spark. It’s a short, fleeting thing, but it’s enough to grate on your nerves. It’s also enough to have your friend snort. Because of course she made nearly the same comment a few days ago, when you mentioned you just want a nice dinner and a few glasses of wine, not to party all night long.

Not only because you have enough noise and masses on a daily basis as you manage hotels and the party side of casinos - the legal front for the very illegal things your father runs. 

But because, as he called you, a mafia princess is never just a person of the evening for genuine celebration. 

You’re not naive or dumb to not know that those types of parties are a means to be shown around like a prized auction item to lure the highest bidders. Your father loves you, but you’re aware at some point he will arrange your marriage.

You want to spare yourself at least the whole circus of potential husbands, or their representatives, watching you and assessing your worth. 

“I’m not a college student on a spring break, nor a spoiled teen on a sweet sixteen.” You roll your eyes, not voicing the real reasons for the small celebration. 

Which was a tiny victory on your part, because your father couldn’t exactly show you off and wait for offers while it was only him, your friend and two cousins you were still waiting for. 

“No, you’re not.” Levinson agrees, his voice dropping an octave lower.

His eyes stay on your face, but it somehow feels as if he just dragged his gaze down your body in the most inappropriate way. You feel a warm tingle awakening beneath your skin.

“I wish you all a lovely evening. Once again, happy birthday,” he rolls your name on his tongue and his lips curve in a teasing smile.

“May it be a memorable one.”

You watch him turn and leave, moving with the confidence of a predator who knows the jungle holds no secrets from him. 

But he’s not reckless or stupidly cocky, you think. He’s simply (annoyingly) aware of his power. Which makes him all the more dangerous to be around. 

You make a promise to never find yourself in his orbit for longer than necessary. 

[naomikozura]

Love of My Life: Part 2

Heian Era! True Form! Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Fem!Reader

A/N: I want to put an actual paragraph warning in here. Remember this is Sukuna’s story during the Heian Era, using bits and pieces from what I've researched on JJK and him during this era.

This chapter shows INTENSE GRUESOME SCENES including torture, psychological torture, abuse, massacres, and burning buildings. This is a DARK THEME story, it is meant as a work of FICTION and its 18+ ONLY MDNI!!!!

Warnings: strong language, violence, mention of mass murder, angst, generational trauma, complicated family dynamics, family abuse, murder, emotional turmoil and abuse, manipulation, sadistic tendencies, corruption of power, dark themes, burning down villages, murder, masochistic tendencies, sadistic behavior, decapitation, prostitution, sex scenes (in a brothel), torture, psychological torture, (lmk if I missed any!)

WC: 10.2K Series Masterlist

Part 1 || Part 3

The night was quiet, the aftereffects of your fight still lingering in the air. You hadn’t spoken to them for the rest of the evening, letting yourself sit with the hurt of your father’s words.  Your eyes were red, puffy from the silent tears you shed in the past hour. 

Defective. Wasted potential. Disgrace. 

Why has this been your life? Why were you born into one of the Four? Did you live a cruel existence in a past life, were you paying for the sins of your ancestors? Your father despised you being his daughter, hated that his claim was weakened because you were a daughter instead of a son, that you would never be as powerful as the sons of the other Families. You did everything to bring honor to your family. You studied, you trained, you focused on your inherited technique, you brought peace between villages with your kindness and political intelligence, you tried for the better part of your life to mold yourself into what your father wanted. You obeyed his demands, agreed to his greedy power tactics, even believed you were okay marrying Zetsubou  Zen’in when deep down you didn’t want to. You were more than just a pawn in his game, more than means to an end, more than just something to solidify your family name in the realm and create a greater power. 

Little did he know he was slowly pushing you to your brink. You believed you controlled yourself well, keeping composed in even the worst of situations but your composure slowly started to crumble with every new task he had for you. The pressure slowly built up and you couldn’t take it anymore, you didn’t want to sell your life away just for someone else to gain all the power. 

What a cruel life you were given. 

“Y/n”, you felt your heart skip a beat, a low rumble vibrating through you as your bones became hyper aware of who called your name. You turned around, your eyes meeting his deep red ones as he stood in your bedroom. You didn’t even begin to wonder how he got in, he was a gifted sorcerer, he could do anything.

“Ryo..”, you called his given name, not remembering when you had started but when he showed no distaste in your doing so, you continued to call him by name. 

“Come.”, it was all he needed to say as you nodded, slipping on your night robe and your shoes before following him through the back door of your home. You stayed glued to his side as he led you through the woods, suddenly realizing he was using his technique to hide both your cursed energy. He’d put a veil over the both of you to camouflage from any scouts patrolling the woods. 

Silence fell over the both of you, walking for about a half hour before reaching the end of the woods, a blue lake illuminated by the moon at the bottom of a slight hill. The water was bright, the moon reflecting beautifully to light up the water in a serene and breathtaking way. 

“The ground here is loose.”, he said blankly before grabbing you, picking you up in his arms as you sank into him, letting your head rest in the curve between his jaw and shoulder. He had a musk to him, a woodsy smell that brought comfort over you and let you relax into his touch. 

You wondered if you were the first person he’d touched like this? Deep down you knew he’d probably indulge in the company of concubines, he was a man with needs and one many couldn’t refuse. You were certain many of the women would jump at an opportunity to have the King of Curses in their bed. A sting grew in your chest at the thought. 

Once he’d reached the bottom, he set you down on the grass, your body small in comparison to his. He stared at you with curious eyes, the dichotomy of your existence in contrast with his was a wonder to him. He was grueling, sadistic, had the body that would make anyone recoil on sight, and held no remorse in his actions towards others. Meanwhile, you were kind, intimate, beautiful, and gifted. You had three of the most powerful names in this era asking for your hand in marriage, every man in surrounding towns having heard of the L/n daughter who was the heir to the L/n bloodline and being gifted with the Eye of Aurora. He knew your ability was powerful, strong enough to possibly even go head to head with him once you’d reached its full potential. Deep down he already knew you’d be considered one of the strongest sorcerer’s in the Heian era once you reached your full ability. 

He hadn’t come to terms with his reasoning for letting you live, for helping you, for feeling intense amounts of cursed energy at your distress. He wasn’t a man of emotion nor empathy. He saw emotion as a weakness, mundane, meaningless. He hated weak humans, despised the sight of overly emotional lackeys and often killed them on sight or elongated their emotional distress with mental torture. Emotion was something he disregarded and found useless, and yet it was the very thing that kept him from even thinking of bringing harm onto you. 

Was this punishment for his track record of horrific slayings? Were you sent by some being to punish him with your existence?

“Why are we here?”, your red eyes met his gaze, something in his chest burning at the sight of your defeated stare. He could tell you’d been crying, he felt your distress from across the realm and it burned him alive. He’d almost crossed across the entire woods just to show at your home and end your father’s life for laying a hand on you. 

“Your father.”, he started roughly. “He’s a pathetic excuse of a man, an insolent waste of human flesh.”

Your tired eyes widened at the hatred dripping from his lips, the words filled with venom as his eyes darkened. You’d heard about his anger and wrath among the scribes in your village, it was enough to wipe out an entire population and he’d done it multiple times before. You knew if he truly wanted to, he could end your father’s life with no hesitation.

You looked down at the water, watching as the water moved and the ripples distorted the moon, your chest hurting as it contracted. “He…”, you choked on your words, the break in your voice creating a rise of energy in him. “He thinks I’m defective, a disgrace to our family.”

His eyes looked over at you, the burning in his chest growing larger. 

“He threatened to get the elders from the Zen’in clan to exorcize my ability and… let me die without our ancestral guides”

He wasn’t much for believing in spiritual practices, but you’d grown up believing you needed your ancestors to guide you to the next life. it was a common belief within the families especially when you came face to face with cursed spirits constantly. They’d always been exorcized and seeing them cry out as you did knowing they’d just die, you wanted to believe there was a place where your soul could rest easy in the after. 

You felt a whirl of his cursed energy, feeling the rage boiling inside of him. A part of you feared what could happen to your father if Sukuna really wanted to get rid of him, but another sadistic, cruel part of you that you’d never encountered before told you that your father deserved whatever he had coming to him. After years of his grueling expectations, you started to hate your father for his greedy and selfish ways. You knew deep down in the hidden depths of your heart that you couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse if he died. 

The exorcism of cursed energy was painful, you could easily say that due to how spirits cried when they would get absorbed. The exorcism of an inherited special ability was far worse. You’d heard stories of Yu L/n. He’d been exorcized of the Eye of Aurora and executed after he’d wiped out an entire village because he couldn’t control his technique. It was a horror story, a gruesome tale, it scared you to no end at the possibility that the same could happen to you. An exorcism of a special technique meant death. It was the most grueling way to torture and kill someone, leaving them alive meant they’d be a shell of a human, struggling and living at a lesser quality of life. No humane person would allow someone to live in such agony. Inherited techniques were bonded to the inheritors soul, binding together to make the energy and the human soul one for whatever lifespan the sorcerer had. It was the reason manipulation and control was easy for those who inherited special abilities, because it was connected to them in every way down to the genetic makeup of their bodies. 

You stood next to him in silence, your body numb of emotion as you recounted everything your father had said to you. Were you really wasted potential? Were you really defective? 

“I’ll kill him.”, his voice vibrated, your eyes staring at him while he focused on the body of water in front of the both of you. “I’ll make him suffer, perhaps exorcize his cursed energy to give him a taste of his own ignorance”

“Ryo, please.”, your soft voice sent a wave of warmth through his body. “I don’t want unnecessary bloodshed.”

He realized then why the realm considered you the Princess of Peace. You wanted to fight for your rights to life, fight for what was fair to the realm without bloodshed. Every gathering you’d been to had always swayed in your favor and he knew deep down it wasn’t because of your family name. You were just logical and intelligent to showcase why your outlook was necessary in the development of the Jujutsu world. You truly believed deep down there would be ways to save jujutsu sorcerers and regular humans without having to create an all out war. 

A part of him whirled in anger, another not understanding your stance. He disregarded human emotion at all costs, thought it to be weak, pathetic, unbeneficial, and a waste of energy. When he looked at the way people reacted first instead of thinking it made him recoil in disgust, when he’d see sobbing mothers or angry fathers at the villages he’d consumed he laughed, feeding off their distress and growing in power. He thrived off the negative emotion, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care for anything except gaining his right to the realm. He believed he was the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery and everyone else was simply a lackey and weak. 

He’d consider you one of them had you been anyone else, but there was something about you that made him hold you at a higher regard. You held every characteristic he despised of humans, of lesser sorcerers and yet he couldn’t bring himself to put you in the same category as them. It was like you had all immunity from his hatred, his wrath, his disgust. He didn’t know why you were different from the rest, he just knew you were and he couldn’t bring himself to figure out why. He didn’t want to. 

“What do you suggest I do then? Sit around and feel your energy get more distressed every time he talks to you like you’re worth nothing?”

For some reason, his confession of feeling your distress made your heart skip a beat. You knew he could feel all the energy around him, the powerful, the weak, the unstable, the murderous, and he cared most about yours. He felt your distress and it made him angry. Something about that undeniable truth made you feel warm inside. 

“You know what they tell you is true.”, he said, void of emotion. “I’ve killed hundreds of people, consumed their energy and left them to rot in the ground.”

Why was he saying this?

“I know.”

“I have no remorse, no morality, no human left in me”

“I know.”

It was all you could say, you couldn’t deny the painstaking truth. You knew he was immoral, dangerous, a murderer, you knew and still you ignored it. 

“So why do you choose to stay?”, he bit out. He’d never wanted nor cared about the opinion of anyone but he wanted yours. Why after the past two months did you choose to keep his company? Why after two months did you find yourself enamored with him? 

“Because you don’t care”, you confessed. “You don’t care about what others think, or what they say. You’re free to pass through every inch of this realm without any regard to what anyone has to say or what they think. In the end, you know you’re stronger, you go through life knowing your worth and position and… If I stay around you long enough maybe I’ll learn not to care either.”

Silence. 

He had no words to say as he listened to your voice grow slightly louder. “I want to leave, I don’t want to be the heir to my family’s claim, I don’t want to be held to this impossible standard that my family has for me. I just wish I could’ve been born just a regular human being. I might’ve been weak, ignorant, and blindsided but I would be free of the torment of my family’s expectation of me. I would be nobody and that would be enough.” 

That was just it. You could never be a nobody. You were forced into this life, born into a family of inherited techniques and forced to bring honor to your family no matter the cost. You were shackled to your prison for eternity and with no way out, you accepted the consequences of your position. 

To him though, it was different. You could never be a nobody. Not when he saw you as everything that brought out a sliver of humanity from his black soul. He saw you as everything everywhere all at once. You were kindness and empathy, strength and resilience, he felt it in the energy he absorbed and saw it in the woods he wandered through. He felt your presence in every fiber of his being and he hated it. You consumed him in a way not even the strongest in this realm could even graze him in. 

“He wants me to stop training in the fields and stay in the inner territory. He’s having the elders oversee my training.”, your mouth twitched slightly. “In the end, I'm still forced to develop my domain for him.”

A surge of annoyance whirled inside of him, forcing it back down in order to remain in control of his veil. He could be annoyed at the mundane anger of your father, but he wouldn’t put you at risk of being seen with him just because he wanted to rip your father into shreds. His thoughts seemed normal to him, but he knew if you’d heard his tactic of gaining your freedom you’d surely feel disgusted by him. 

“We should go back.”, you whispered, another tear streaming down your cheek. You looked down as you swallowed a sob, the feeling of his hand wiping the tear away warming your skin. You leaned into his hand, your lachrymose eyes meeting him in a gentle gaze. 

He stayed silent, grabbing your hand as he led you back through the woods and to your home. Your focus was on your intertwined hands, wondering if he’d ever let someone else touch him like this before. Has he ever been so gentle with others or were you the only exception to this? 

When you arrived, you lingered outside for a moment, the silence occupying the space while you tried to find the right words for him. You couldn’t quite place how you felt, but you felt a pull towards him, an uncontrollable feeling that you wanted to get off your chest. 

“Thank you”, was all you could say. He hummed in response before grabbing your hand, his skin rough and his touch gentle. You smiled through your hurt, a piece of your heart breaking at the fact that your freedom to roam had been stolen from you. A piece of you hurt even more than you couldn’t see him anymore. 

You gave him one last smile before walking away, your hand still in his grasp as it slowly untangled itself from his hood and you walked inside your home. After you’d reached your bedroom, you felt the veil of his cursed energy release and his presence disappear. 

Another single tear falling down your cheek while the pain in your chest overcame you, forcing you into a slumber just to escape from the agony. 

Over the past few days, Sukuna came to visit you in your home, concealing his energy and yours in the process in order to keep you from being sensed by others in your family clan. After so much time, he created a body double of you to take your place in bed so that you’d feel more comfortable leaving your room empty in the middle of the night. 

The nights were the only time you had with him now since your training was supervised by the elders, leaving you little room to actually train to create a domain and instead your time was consumed with training your ability. Every night you spent with him made your heart warm, everything about him made you feel whole, made you feel seen. It wasn’t often he’d speak fondly of anything, but he’d express himself to you in a way he’d never let anyone else hear. He preferred hearing you talk, preferred hearing your dreams of a future and a life that wasn’t surrounded by inheritance and power. He’d often disagreed, believing that power was the best thing in any lifetime that someone could obtain, but he found himself understanding your stance more and more every night. 

The two of you would spend every night with each other, staying within reach of your home in case you needed to return quickly, visiting the lake every night. You didn’t know at what point you started to return to his home with him, but you had found yourself in his bed more times than not. You would spend all night wrapped in his arms, his gentle touch on your skin, his fingers running through your h/c hair, breathing you in as you slept in his hold. 

He’d never expected a single thing from you. Your relationship with him was never carnal, he’d never let it get to that point because to him, he didn’t care for physical release anymore. 

Before you, he’d spend the better parts of his nights in brothels, a different concubine each night and drunk on wine and letting himself dip into his pool of women whenever he wanted. A harem waiting to jump into his bed at the snap of his fingers and yet, when you came around it was like all carnal desire evaporated from his being. His sudden disappearance from the brothels left even the concubines in shock, wondering where he’d gone off to not knowing of his infatuation with the L/n heir. 

Your emotional and mental capacity exceeded his beliefs and he found himself going against everything he once swore his life on, finding himself seeing you in a different light in comparison to every other living being. He respected you on a godly level, a level he never regarded anyone else in. You saw the world through a lens of profound clarity and grace, something he’d never wasted time on, something that made you connected to those beneath you but also made you so profoundly unique. You had embedded yourself so deeply into his being that even those around him started to notice the shift within the King of Curses. He found himself in awe of your perspective, mesmerized by the way your heart navigated through everything. 

He felt utterly pathetic. 

But you were content with him in every way. Where you held empathy and grace in your heart, he held control and selfishness. You were gentle and kind, he was merciless and heartless. Your eyes looked at the world with curiosity and he saw it as a kingdom to overtake, a kingdom where he would ultimately rule. A kingdom where he wanted you to serve next to him. To be his till his heart stopped beating and even beyond that.

You were a dichotomous pairing: heaven and hell. 

Still, you felt content when you laid in his arms at night. You felt secure laying in his bed, sleeping next to him, existing in the same space he occupied, looking into his deep red eyes that the rest of the realm were too scared to look into. You loved the way he touched you, his hand gentle as it pushed your hair back while you laid next to him. You loved the way he held you while you breathed against his chest at night before inevitably having to return home before the sunrise. 

That same morning you had returned home, you were preparing for a bath, undressing as you heard the group of maids outside the room. 

“You don’t think he will have heirs, do you?”, one of them asked in a whisper. 

“Someone like him has to have heirs. He wants to rule an empire, surely he’ll find a way to get them.”

“I wouldn’t mind giving him some.”, the final one spoke, making your ears ring in shock as she continued. “Have you seen him? He has to have a harem of women waiting to get into bed with him, not to mention he looks like he would be completely wild in bed.”

You felt your gut turn inside of you. 

“I wouldn’t mind jumping in bed with him, even if it is only once. Just to know what it’s like to get fucked by a real man.”, the maid laughed as their voices disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing in your shock as you let her words sink into your bones. 

You felt… insignificant. Insufficient. Inadequate. 

Later that night when he came for you, a wave of silence covered the both of you. You knew he could feel your energy, the doubt bubbling inside of you as you moved through the woods. Once you’d reached his home, you stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to break the silence. 

He turned to meet your gaze, the emotion glossing over your eyes as he moved towards you. His hand reached up, pushing your loose strands of hair behind your ear as he caressed your cheek. 

“What’s wrong?”, he breathed. 

“Why?’, your voice shook, leaving him questioning why you were like this tonight. “Why me?”

He stood in silence, waiting for you to continue, knowing you weren’t done with the amount of energy he felt radiating off of you. 

“Why me, Sukuna? You could have anyone, any woman you wanted, hell all the women you wanted. I know you’re far from being a saint, and I accepted that fact a long time ago because I couldn’t care less about who you’d been with before me. I don’t care about your past or how many women you’ve been with… I just need to know.”, you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “You have so many women, so many concubines at your fingertips. I’m sure you’ve slept with some of them in the past few months, hell maybe even weeks. So, why?”, your voice broke. “Why me?”

Were you not good enough? Sufficient? Worthy?

His silence ate at you, making your gut fill with dread as he stared at you with a blank stare. You could guess that he’d probably taunt you, play with your feelings before delivering his ultimate blow. You wanted to believe that the past few weeks meant something to him in the same way they meant everything to you. You wanted to be enough for someone. Enough for him. 

When his voice broke the silence, you felt your eyes gloss over with tears again.

“I haven’t been with another woman since I met you.”, his voice held the truth, reaching up to cup your cheek.  “Since the first time I saw you, I stopped visiting brothels or entertaining the thoughts of other women.”

A shock sank into your bones at his confession. His eyes bore into yours with truth, with honesty. What he wanted to know was how these thoughts even entered your mind. 

“Who put these thoughts into your mind?”, he asked in a deep growl. 

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. “One of our maids… She..”

He let out a quiet shush, grabbing your face with both his hands as his thumb grazed over your lips, “You…”, his eyes darkening with what you could only place as lust and possessiveness, “are the only woman in this life and the next, the only woman in this realm and the hundreds of others that I desire.”

And hell did he want you. He wanted every part of you. heart, body, and soul. Down to the simple way your eyes looked at him to the way your cursed energy spiraled into immense power when fighting cursed spirits. He wanted every strand of hair, every piece of your soul, every inch of skin, every minute of your time. He wanted you to consume him in every way and he couldn’t care less about the gravity of your effect on him. If you didn’t exist to be with him, he didn’t want to exist either. He saw himself as the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery, the king of this realm, and he wanted you to be the one and only thing that could bring him to his knees. If he was the most powerful sorcerer in the existence of humanity and jujutsu, then you were far stronger. You brought the King of Curses to his knees and he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted. He wanted you to have power over him, it meant you belonged to him in every way that mattered. He'd burn the world down if you asked, kill an entire nation to prove his undying loyalty to you, he’d stop his spread of cursed energy to know a moment of peace with you. 

He didn’t know when he’d become so wrapped up in you, but it was too late for him by the time he realized the hold you had over him. 

He was yours with the entirety of his being, with the intensity of his soul, and the remainder of his existence in this life and continue to let you consume him in every lifetime after this one. 

His soul called your name in a way he’d never experienced in his entire life. For a man who didn’t believe in indulging in mundane emotions, he indulged in you and that’s all he needed. 

Your lip quivered, a sob choked out of your lips as you looked at him in a deep admiration. You lifted your hands to wrap around his wrists, sinking into his touch as you whispered to him. 

“I want to see you, Ryo.”, your hand on his face, your gentle lachrymose eyes meeting his hardened ones. “I want to see the real you.”

He would’ve denied the request had you been anyone else, but he was at your mercy, allowing his body to morph into his true being. The very form that left the realm fearing his presence, left them in agony from the overwhelming rush of cursed energy. His true form alone was enough to make an entire nation buckle under his presence. It was gruesome, wicked, twisted, ugly, and macabre. It was something so terrifying they’d used it in stories to children for them to be good for their parents. His true form was something heard about across all of the realm and left nations training for years in hopes to one day kill the King of Curses. And despite all of that wickedness, gruesomeness, and fear, you looked up at him with gentle eyes. 

He showed his true form to you, waiting for the recoil of disgust, the shock of horror and yet none of it came. You looked at him with the same gentleness you had for anyone else in this realm. He had a deformed stomach, four arms, multiple sets of eyes and a plate on his face, teeth sharp like daggers, and body covered in scars and marked in black ink. 

Yet, the only thing that flooded your eyes was admiration. 

Why weren’t you disgusted by him?

Why weren’t you running in fear?

Bowing at his feet?

Why?

“Why do you hide your true form around me?”, you cocked your head slightly. “Everyone in the other families always say you show your true form to add to your dominance over the realm, yet you disfigure your body and make it different when I’m with you… Why?”

Who created you in such a way that you empathize with him instead of cursing him to hell? 

Princess of Peace. 

“Does it bother you?”

“I just don’t see why you have to hide it. You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

You couldn’t explain the connection to him. 

Was it an invisible string? 

Fated soulmates? 

You didn’t know what it was that his form didn’t frighten you or leave you in shock. You welcomed every being with open arms, perhaps it was your special ability to see cursed energy and gauge its threat to you. His energy never reached levels of threat when he was near you. You’d seen it around other sorcerers and the level grew astronomically. It was almost too much to wrap your mind around and yet when you saw it in the solace of his bedroom, it never pushed you away. 

Inside these walls, no cursed energy existed to harm you. In fact, it was the complete opposite. His cursed energy manifested in a protective veil, ensuring you were guarded completely when you were with him. 

You felt every question swirl in your mind, trying to pinpoint why he had you feeling so alive. 

Was it the desire to leave your family out of spite?

The desire to know what being unhinged was?

The desire to not live within the bounds of the jujutsu code and live freely?

You couldn’t quite place it but you felt envious of his freedom and lack of care. You were always being watched, always monitored, the only moments of peace and freedom you got were when he would sneak you out of your home at night.

You grabbed one of his hands, rubbing soft fingers on the back of it and meeting his gaze. You’d grown to admire the depth of his gaze, the way they watched you with a calm intensity. You have laced his hand on your cheek, his massive palm warming your skin as you sank into him. 

His body lowered to your height, bending over as he brought you closer to his chest while your heart pounded inside of your own. You knew he could feel your infatuation, your intrigue, your heart racing inside you. Your gentle eyes met his darkened ones, the closest thing to desire that he could get to while holding you. You felt his lips meet yours, the roughness of his mouth as he claimed you as his. You melted into him, your hands on his chest as a pair of his landed on your waist and the other held your face, deepening the kiss. 

He lifted your body, placing your frame on his lap as he laid against the headboard of his bed. You felt the burning of his skin as his grip tightened on your waist. Your skin ignited under his touch, running a hand through his hair which caused him to groan against your mouth. You could listen to him all day, forever. 

If your father or the realm saw you right now, what would they say? What would they think? Would they accuse Sukuna of brainwashing you? Imprisoning you? Did you need saving? 

No. 

You didn’t need saving; you were far beyond it for anyone to consider it. You were too far gone in him and you didn’t want to turn back. His muscular arms picked you up, laying you on your back against the sheets as his overwhelming form covered yours. You were tiny in comparison to him, your hair splayed out in a halo as his eyes stayed focused on you. A hand brushed your stray hairs back, rubbing small circles against your temple. 

You focused on his body, admiring every muscle, every ripple of skin, every scar, every black marking. You admired his form regardless of the fact that most would consider him a devil. It never occurred to you in any sense. 

An angel entrapped by a demon, an angel falling in love with the devil, an angel stolen from heaven and dragged to hell. 

You didn’t give a damn anymore. You wanted him, needed him like you needed oxygen. He helped you feel free, helped you escape the confines of your familial name, helped you feel worthy. He helped you see life in a new light, in every way that you couldn’t before because of your father’s controlling ignorance. You didn’t care about the opinions of the village or the families, deep down they were only looking out for themselves even if everyone else denied it. 

The King of Curses completely ruined you: the Princess of Peace. The two of you were a dichotomous pairing, chaos and peace, yet still found balance in each other. It was the balance of life and existence and the both of you knew exactly how the collision would end: one of you would gain everything and the other would lose it all. But neither of you would have anticipated the depth of your connection, the intensity in which he consumed you and you him. You no longer cared about the consequences of being with him. Your father could disown you, exile you, have the entire village and the other families against you, but as long as Ryomen was at your side you didn’t care. 

His rough lips made their way down your neck, kissing and licking every inch of your skin as your hands held into his arms. The sound of your muffled cries made him feral, making his instinct and possessiveness kick into overdrive. He needed to feel you, needed to taste you, to breathe you in and have you take over all his senses. 

Your hands gripped his arms, your toes curling against the bed sheets as he continued to kiss down your neck and swirling his tongue around the delicate skin. You tasted like a heaven he never believed in, made him feel euphoric in ways beyond comprehension. 

Your body was on fire at his touch, you wanted more. More of his touch, his kisses, his groans, his everything. You just wanted more of him. 

You wanted to give yourself to him in everyway you could. He knew you were still a virgin, he wanted to be the one to wreck you, to be the only one to know your body so intimately, wanted to be the only man you’d ever end up with. His hands gripped your hips as you felt his buck slightly against you, your moans filling his mouth as he kissed you sloppily. 

He forced himself to stop, gaining a small whimper from you. His eyes met yours, his voice deep but low as he pressed his lips against yours once more. 

“Not like this.”, he muttered, his tone vibrating in every bone in your body. 

You knew what he meant with just a simple phrase, Your body relaxing against the bed, letting him collapse next to you as he wrapped you into his arms. You soaked in his warmth, letting your body be held by him as you fell into a slumber. 

This was all you could ever ask for. 

It was all you wanted.

One Week Later 

You woke up just before the sunrise, your body sitting up as the bed sheets fell from your form. You looked next to you, seeing Sukuna in his sleep while his arms were lazily thrown over your torso. Another night with him in peace left you feeling content, feeling a soreness overtake your body from the training you’d done with him last night. You felt his arms tighten, your body almost bare against him only wearing one of his oversized wool shirts. 

You pushed yourself out of his embrace, swinging your legs off the bed and looking out the window. You still had time to get home before everyone woke up, though you needed to head home soon. You felt his energy shift as he woke, raising a hand while still laying in the sheets and looking at you while caressing your cheek. 

“I have to get home.”, you whispered as you melted into him. He grunted in response before sitting up and cracking his neck to relieve the pressure he’d gotten overnight. You follow his as he stands, letting him help dress you in your clothing as you felt his lips along the side of your neck. 

Both of you walked out of his home, walking through the woods until you reached your room, his veil keeping you hidden and camouflaged both of your energies. You gave him a final kiss, smiling at him before he turned and left, leaving you alone in your room. 

During mid day, the sun held its highest position and the food was being prepared for lunch, you heard mention from your father that the Zen’in would be joining your family for lunch. 

Everything was fine at first, everyone coexisting together, talking about family matters and everything normal, atleast it seemed normal at first. 

You looked up to see Zetsubou Zen’in walk in the door, one of the maids accompanying him to the table as she bowed and walked back to her post at the front door. He was the heir to the Zen’in clan. A remarkably talented sorcerer with the gift of the Ten Shadows technique. Everyone was sure he would soon manifest the shikigami Mohoraga, making him the first to manifest it since the family’s establishment to the realm. 

“Now that everyone is here, there is some news we must share.”, your father spoke as he stood, watching as Zetsubou’s father also rose to stand next to his son. Everyone else remained seated, you included as you cocked your head in confusion. 

“Y/n, come stand.”, your father motioned towards you, your gut churning in suspicion before you stood next to him. You watched your father before turning to Zetsubou and his father, his dark eyes staring into your e/c ones. 

“We are to celebrate the new union, the meshing of two family names into one great clan.”, your father spoke, your mother and the Zen’in wife staring in silence. Even the maids seemed to be on edge of what your father was saying. “Zetsubou, Your father and I have agreed in accepting the conditions of betrothal that you both have given to our family.”

Betrothal?

“Y/n, you and Zetsubou will meet in union in two weeks' time. Two Clans becoming one in matrimony.”, your father smiled as he shook hands with the Zen’in leader, smiling at Zetsubou. 

You stood in silence, your energy growing grimm at the declaration your father just made. Your body overwhelmed in shock, your heart racing in your chest, your mind swirling with a million different possibilities. The chatter around you blurred into a jumbled mess, nothing comprehensive due to your anger radiating from your body. 

“I look forward to getting closer to you through our marriage, Y/n.”, Zetsubou smiled at you, your eyes staring at him mindlessly. “Y/n?”

“I’m not marrying you.”, you said silently, almost inaudibly but you knew he’d heard you since you saw Zetsubou’s eyes darken. 

“What?”, his voice came out clipped, sharp. Dangerous. 

“I am not marrying you.”, you repeated, your eyes void of any emotion as you held 

“Y/n!”, your mother let out a warning call, but you ignored her. You didn’t care about anything other than making it entirely clear that you were not going to be wed to the Zen’in Clan. “Forgive us, she doesn’t realize what she’s saying.”

“I know what I’m saying. I am not marrying you, Zetsubou. Not even if you held my life at sword's edge.”

You suddenly felt the energy that radiated off of your father, his anger growing tenfold as he glared at you with intense disappointment and resentment. Your father already hated you, and already felt disgraced by your presence. Why not give him another reason to see you as less than good enough. 

“I think there needs to be some time to process our agreement. Surely we can come to a suitable agreement that will benefit both of our clans.”, your father forced out, his voice clipped. “Our maids will clean up, let me walk you out.”

You watched as both the Zen’in leader and your father walked out, your eyes glancing back at Zetsubou, holding his glare before he scoffed and followed behind his father. You heard the lowered voice of Zetsubou’s father, his voice full of annoyance. 

“Get your daughter under control or else we will take care of her for you.”, and with that, the Zen’ins left your home. You stared blankly as your father walked back into the room, his energy radiating in waves like a tsunami. He walked up to you, your blank stare meeting his eyes as you felt your head snap to the side, the sting burning your cheek as he snarled at you. 

“You are a disgrace!”, he screamed, your mother gasping at his sudden burst. “How dare you embarrass our family name in front of the Zen’ins!”

You raised your head, looking at the pure fury displayed in his eyes, still not saying a single word as he continued to berate you. 

“Why can’t you just do your duty and save yourself the embarrassment. Save our family the dishonor of having you as its heir.”, he bit out, each word dripping with acid. “You’re to marry Zetsubou Zen’in in two weeks' time. For once in your pathetic life, do something honorable for this family.”. He left the room, your mother following closely behind as the maids started to clean the dining room. 

And still, you stood in the middle of the room with no emotion behind your eyes, just the sting of your cheek and the emptiness in your chest at your father’s words. Your life, your future, your dreams, it all was reduced to being the wife of a man you did not love. A man you did not care for and despised. 

You were reduced to nothing. 

The night was silent, the wind howled softly in the background causing the trees to move, leaving nothing but a tranquil aura in the air. You stared blankly at the wall as you laid against Sukuna’s skin, the warmth flooding your body as you felt his arms wrap around you. You felt the growing pressure in your chest, an unavoidable truth you couldn’t keep from him anymore. 

“Kuna…”, you whispered gently. HIs body moved, looking at you as his eyes fell on your heartbroken form. “I..”, you choked. 

How could you possibly tell him this?

“What is it?”, his voice was deep yet soft, the words ringing in your ears. 

“I… My father..”, you sucked in a shaky breath. “He arranged for me to marry Zetsubou Zen’in.”

“He arranged for you to marry Zetsubou Zenin.” he repeated back to you, the lingering darkness hanging in his tone. 

“He says it’ll be good for our families. That I have a responsibility as heir, as does Zetsubou, to continue our bloodline and make our abilities stronger.”

“Do you love him?”, the question made your blood run cold, even kicked you in the gut, but you knew why he asked. You could read in between the lines and hear the unanswered question he truly wanted to ask. 

“No.”

A hum was all that escaped him, the silence casting over the both of you causing a small blanket of tension to rise. 

“I can kill them.”, he replied finally. “I can give them a reason to call off that sham marriage.”

He could do it easily, there was no question about it, the only thing keeping him from carrying out his plan was his loyalty to you. He wouldn’t do something you asked him to not do. You had that power over him to stop him from doing anything. You heard the hidden meaning in his words. You weren’t ignorant or naive. You knew who he was and what he was capable of and yet, you lay in his arms falling deeper into what he was, or rather, who he was with you. 

“I don’t want bloodshed. Besides..”, you sank into your sorrow again. “I don’t think there truly is a way out of this.”

“Do you really believe they could possibly keep me away from you?”, he asked in a serious, deep tone, his question full of every emotion he’d never said out loud. He didn’t know what kindness was, what admiration looks like or what love felt like but to him… you were the closest thing to that that he’d ever felt and seen in all his life. 

You brought out what little humanity he had in him, he showed it only for you. the tiniest sliver reserved for you but disappeared when it came to anyone else. You were the only one who deserved that small minuscule part of him. He had little regard for human life, he believed himself above all beings all gifted, cursed, and boring. 

Then there was you. 

He didn’t believe himself above you in any regard. 

In every way you were his equal and he’d burn the world to ash to prove it to you. 

“I can’t deny them… My father… he already hates me.”, you muttered against his skin. Ryomen slowly sat up, his arms helping you move with him as he brushed your hair back, tucking a strand behind your ear and letting his hand rest against your cheek. Your eyes glossed over, a hurt in your heart flooding every vein in your body. You didn’t want to be forced into a life you had no interest in, why did this have to be your life’s path? 

You wish you could just speak to whatever greater being ruled over your world and beg them to change the prophecy known as your life. Beg for a time where you didn’t exist within the confines of your familial name, your duty to pass your legacy through your bloodline, your fear of disgracing your family, who could ever change the end result for you? 

“I’ll find a way.”, he whispered before leaning towards you, pulling your lips against his as he let all of his emotion pour into the kiss as the tears fell down your cheeks. He was gentle even in his destructive touch, he let himself completely off guard with you. Your lips moved gently against his, soft and delicate, making his other hands wrapped around your waist as he kissed you deeply. You felt weak at his touch, your heart openly his without regret or second thoughts. 

“Ryo..”, you whispered, your voice shaky as he kissed you again, this time more possessive and full of desire. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, pulling it before letting it go as it swelled. 

You let yourself sink into him, his arms wrapping around you in a secure embrace. You fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, it was even and strong, proof of the life inside of him. 

He watched you carefully, his gut churning in a whirlwind of emotion and suppressed energy. He needed an outlet and soon, he’d spent the better part of the past month with you in his embrace and presence. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone so long without releasing his cursed energy, it was starting to make him twitch at all the pent up power he had. He’d waited until you fell asleep in his arms before lowering you into the sheets, your body laying perfectly in his bed as he covered you with the blanket. He pushed the curtain away, closing it as his eyes lingered on your body, the blanket laying over you as he moved out of the room. 

He found himself wandering through the woods late, moving to the outskirts of the village territories and making his way deeper to territory he knew a little too well. He sensed an energy that stood out to him, his focus moving towards the waves radiating towards him until he reached his location. His veil did good in keeping him hidden, but he released a small wave of energy to send a flood of chills through every being in town within his proximity. His body moved through the homes, the worn down tavern, and the trader booths until he found exactly what he was looking for so late in the night. 

The sound of moans echoed in his ears, the energy he was tailing radiating from inside the brothel at the very end of the town, hidden amongst the trees for a more private ambiance. He knew exactly what was taking place inside the brothel, but it wasn’t that that bothered him, it was the person inside that did. He sensed Zetsubou inside with multiple women, all of them taking their place in his bed, taking turns pleasuring him or even doing it all at once. His grunts sounded out as the moans that escaped the concubine echoed through the walls. The other women were touching him, their hands on his body as one of them rubbed their body against his while another kissed him in a sloppy manner. 

He would be lying if he said he’d never been in a similar, compromising position. He’d visited these brothels long enough to know exactly who and what he wanted every night he visited. His lust filled ways long gone, no longer causing a rise in him, especially after meeting you. That was the exact reason he was here. For you. 

An anger rose inside of him seeing your supposed future husband laying in a bed being pleasured by concubines just weeks before your wedding. His groans sounded out at the pleasure he was receiving, the moans of the concubines filling the air as he fed into infidelity. He knew all too well that men were never loyal to their wives, always frequenting the brothels for a good time. The sound of Zetsubou slamming the headboard against the wall as he fucked one of the concubines, his curses filling the air as her moans ripped through the night, it all made Sukuna’s anger run deep inside of him. The lack of respect, the complete disregard Zetsubou held for you made him want to snap his neck in half. It would be the perfect way to get you out of the betrothal. 

Even the sounds of the whores in bed with him drove Sukuna mad. They had to know the great Zen’in heir was to be wed to the L/n heir, yet they still chose to lay in bed with him, to be absolutely and disgustingly fucked by the son of a bitch. He listened to the sounds, letting the anger grow inside of him, allowing himself to plot every way he would maim Zetsubou Zen’in alive for ever treating his betrothal as disposable. Something to be disregarded. Disrespected. 

After a while, the moans and the slamming of the headboard stopped, Zetsubou’s voice ringing out as he laid in the sheets with his whores wrapped around his naked body. 

“You ladies definitely know how to show a man a good time.”, he breathed as he let them touch his body, his muscled flexing under their touch. 

“Of course, always special treatment for our best man.”, one of the whores said in a sultry voice. “It’s good to get a good fuck while you still can.”

“Trust me, even in a few weeks I’ll be back. Don’t you worry.”, the sound of Zetsubou kissing one of the women made Sukuna fill with disgust. “You have the best of the best here. Can’t stay committed to some virgin who doesn’t know how to please a man, let alone know how to fuck one.”

His energy spiraled, shoving it down as he continued to listen. 

“That’s right, you need real women, not some uptight spoiled brat.”, another woman spoke out. 

“You can get all the good pussy you want here, baby.”, another called. “We know how to treat a man right. Make you feel everything.”

“That’s all I want.”, his voice vibrated as he kissed the woman again. “C’mon baby, let's go for round two.”

And just like that, the sounds of moans and deep grunts rang out again. The knocking of the head board and the panting of hot breath filling the room. Zetsubou Zen’in was scum. Bottom of the barrel. A fucking no body. 

Sukuna bided his time, waiting deep into the night as he watched the Zen’in heir leave, heading back in the direction of his clan’s territory. Sukuna’s red eyes watched him from the shadows, his anger rising into flames around him, waiting long enough for the worthless son of a bitch to be far enough away before letting the release come. 

Fire consumed the village, everything burning into ash, the smoke filling the air as the sound of screams echoed into the night. The taverns, the trader booths, the homes, all of it catching on fire and burning every single person to a crisp. He saved the brothel for last, waiting for the sound of panic cries to ring out before walking inside and seeing all the concubines who were with the Zen’in heir trying to get out of the burning building. He forced them to stay in place, his presence overwhelming them into fear. He watched as the panic settled into their eyes, their lungs begging for air, their bodies getting burned as the flames licked the walls around them. One of them tried to run out past him, but never made it as he blew her head off in one swift slice. They screamed out, begging him to let them out, crying as he watched in emotionlessness. It wasn’t until their lifeless bodies collapsed on the ground that he left, leaving the burning village behind him as he wandered into the night. He’d burn the whole world down for you. 

Even if it meant starting with those who wronged you first.

“Our entire livestock was burned! We have no more land to grow food in!”, the sound of the Zen’in leader’s voice ringing out during their meeting with your father rang out. You listened in silence, letting yourself sink into the reality of what they were discussing. A small part of you laughing internally at their misfortune. 

Another village burned into flames just two days ago, and last night, the Zen’in’s lost all of their livestock, fertile soil, and sustainable crops. They were all burned to nothing, not even the soil or the seeds were salvageable. 

“We need to get this monster under control. We have to speed up training with our sorcerers and find our strongest men to be put into units to take him out. We cannot let him roam so freely anymore, especially not now that he’s making hits closer to our clan lands.”, the Kamo Clan leader spoke out, his voice soft as he marked the map where Sukuna made his last raid, your eyes peeking in through the slit in the door. That village.. It was right outside the Zen’in borders, it was where Zetsubou frequented the brothels. 

Ryo..

You stepped back, moving back into the hall before making your way to your bedroom, closing the door as you sat on the floor. Did he burn the village down in some act of honor for you or was it just a coincidence? 

The thoughts spiraled in your head, letting yourself undress and change into your dinner clothes, the silence still filling your home ever since your fight with your father almost three days ago. You were a week away from your marriage to Zetsubou, a gnawing in your gut as you stepped out of your room and faced your father. You stood in the doorway before making your way to the dining table and sitting in your regular spot at the very end while your father and mother sat next to one another. 

Then, a rush of energy consumed you all at once. The sensation floods your senses as you feel your body tense. You look at your father, noticing his sudden change in demeanor as one of the maids let out a cry of fear, her shaky voice barely audible as you could hear her motion towards the dining room. 

In all his glory, Sukuna stood tall and unmoving, his body adorned with fine robes and his true form showing as he occupied the space. Making the air impossible to breathe, making everyone except you suffocate in fear. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of him, why was he here?

You watched as your mother raised her hand to her mouth, covering her quivering lips. “What is the meaning of this?” she asked in a shaken tone, your eyes filled with worry as you watched your father fill with anger. 

“Sukuna”, he bowed before the King of Curses, before lifting his head and asking his question. “What brings you into our home this evening?”

Sukuna stared your father down, his true form standing tall and in overwhelming sense of dominance that made your mother cower. Although you showed no fear towards him, you could see why everyone else in the realm did. He was massive, muscular, deadly, his body taking form of a cursed entity. It was no secret that Ryomen Sukuna held an energy that defied all existence, he was far above all beings. 

You tried to stay focused, holding your shock at his sudden appearance back, not wanting them to see your reaction. 

What was he doing? 

“F/n L/n.”, Sukuna’s deep voice echoed. “Leader of the L/n clan. For such a highly renown sorcerer, you sure don’t seem to realize where your greatest assets lie.” He walked further into the room, your father’s jaw clenching noticeably. “You’re ignorant and naïve, choosing to force such a gifted sorcerer, your only daughter and heir into a marriage of mutual gain, of political power.”

“Our family and Clan matters shouldn’t interest you. Now why are you intruding on our home?”. You had to applaud your father’s boldness, asking Sukuna such a demanding question. 

“You’re too mundane, worldly, pitiful.”, you watched as he moved and sat at the table, in between the head where your father and mother sat and the opposite end where you sat. He sat with his legs crossed, leaning his head into his hand before speaking again. “Why arrange for political gain when you could have real power, L/n?”

“What are you talking about Sukuna?”, your father’s words shook slightly. 

“Look at the bigger picture. L/n may be a part of the four families, but in comparison, your poor judgment and lack of support is the reason your family will fail. You seek what humans want. You’re greedy over mundane things”, Hid deep red eyes held your father’s gaze intently, overwhelmingly. “What if I told you that you could have the power of gods?”

“Power of gods?”, your fathers hands fisted in his lap. 

“Yes”, you noticed Sukuna’s red eyes glance at you, softening only when he met your gaze and immediately hardened and dropping when he met your father’s. “You could have real power, real influence, real claim to the realm. It would put you far above the rest of the families, perhaps make you greater than the Gojos.”

You didn’t miss the glint of intrigue in your fathers eyes. Of course bed listen or spare a moment for someone like him. Anything for power, anything for more claim to the realm. Your family wasn’t weak but any means, but your father had slowly started losing connections thanks to his selfishness. It truly would be the end of the L/n family if he didn’t get it together. 

“And how would I possibly gain that? I have nothing to give you in return.” , your father smiled weakly. 

“Simple”, Sukuna leaned his head on his hand, staring at your father blankly before extending a hand and pointing at you. 

“I want Y/n as my bride.” 

[m-ayo-o]

seeingdouble ɘldυobϱniɘɘƨ

KINKTOBER IV: DRUGGED starring: f!reader, megumi [25+], toji [mid 40s] synopsis: megumi is led down a dark path by his assassin father. his moral compass askew, lacking any real social experience, he's left to his own devices with a cute girl. thankfully, toji shows up in time to take control. warnings: murder, violence, spiking, drug use: narcotics + psychedelics. stripper!reader [who sometimes offers sex work]. virgin!megumi. restraints. choking. unprotected sex. incest [pussy sharing, dp, anal] guidance. non-con; reader starts to enjoy it [she is drugged] wc: 4.5k

⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact i do not condone taking drugs. spiking is illegal. this is fiction

18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES

When Toji’s wife passed he managed to sell off his daughter to the notorious Zenin clan for a pretty penny, but decided to keep the ten shadows boy for himself. 

Without his wife, daughter and clan, Toji’s life spiralled out of control and he took Megumi down with him. 

Toji left everything behind, so did Megumi.

Toji became invisible, so did Megumi. 

He corrupted him and dragged him into a cursed life of killing for money. 

Leaving his boy in cheap, dusty hotels, Toji would go out to commit murder– it was as simple as grocery shopping for him, only returning home with his shirt all bloody and ripped. Young Megumi would eye his clothing curiously, his gaze wide and innocent, but would be too scared to utter a word. He knows his father has a terrible temper.

This routine continued until Megumi got older, into his late teens, when Toji thought it would be appropriate to start telling the young man about what he did. Then in his early twenties he started taking him along on his sinister missions, hunting. Lacking any formal education or training, he doubted his son would be of any use. 

But Megumi had become intelligent and strong in his solitude, reading for entertainment and experimenting with his powers, his shikigami the only life forms to keep him company.

Despite his independence, having Toji as his only guiding light led the younger man to have a somewhat twisted view on reality, and as far as sound moral judgement goes, he simply does not possess it. 

As an assassin, Toji likes a quick kill; clean and efficient, usually with a gun or a knife. He can get paid faster that way, delivering the body swiftly and avoiding any trouble.

But he’s noticed his son taking a liking to finishing his victims more personally.

⁺⋆

Another murderous evening had drawn to a close, their hands stained red once again, when he carelessly took his eyes off his son and their victim.  

A young, powerful sorceress who’d seemingly pissed off the wrong crowd. Still, a surprisingly easy target for the assassin in training.

“Megumi, s’time to go,” the older man wipes his knife and cautiously looks along the alleyway.

His son is unresponsive. 

Toji gets closer, squinting in the dark to find his hands wrapped around her neck. 

She’s still alive, barely, but clinging on nonetheless, fading in and out of consciousness. 

“What are you doing? Just– just fucking–” 

“Wait”

The younger man’s stern voice halts Toji from slitting her throat.

And he watches his son squeeze the life out of the young woman. 

His lips twitch when her eyes roll back. But still, his hand remains over her windpipe, feeling her pulse die when the last breaths escape her body. 

“Megumi. We need to go.”

His son finally pulls away, and they become invisible once more. 

Despite his grisly methods, not only did Megumi prove useful, but their missions also provided for some much needed father-son bonding time. 

So, with his son reaching 25 years old, they got into this gruesome habit together, becoming partners.

Another habit Megumi picked up from the older man was his tendency to visit strip clubs after their kill. They were great places to hide, especially if you knew the owners well enough. And Toji knew each and every member of staff in this place; the managers, the bar staff, the girls.

And he knew a certain pretty little girl very well indeed.

Despite his many visits he never made any inappropriate advances, only paid to watch you dance. Maybe a lap dance every now and again if he was feeling particularly self gratuitous.

You share few words, but seem to have a mutual understanding of one another. You know that he loves watching you, and you’ve come to like his stern demeanour and surprisingly respectful attitude, enjoying his ability to scare off creepy customers. He’s kind of like your personal bodyguard at work. You feel lucky to have met him.

Unlike some of the halfwit scumbags that frequent the club, he’s a real man. From his assertive, deep tones, those muscles, perfect for manhandling little girls like you, and those sharp eyes, staring as if he wants your body as much as you want his.

But you have no idea what he does for work– he almost seems nocturnal.

Then you notice that he starts bringing someone else to the club.

His younger brother? His son? You can’t tell. But you know for certain that they’re related as soon as they step in together– their hair is styled differently, but is the same absolute black. The strobe lighting illuminates different colours in the younger man’s eyes, but they have the same glare. Their faces are a slightly different shape, but they have the same wicked smile. 

How could there be two of him? One was already enough.

“Meet my son.” 

Oh. He might be the same age as me. You think, studying his features– bags under his eyes, more height than muscle, cheeks slightly sunken. 

His exchanges are awkward. He looks uncomfortable.

You offer him a dance, not knowing what else to do. You’re here to work, after all.

Toji pays for a private dance and you walk with his son to a booth, the older man giving him a wink and a devilish smile.

You draw the curtains and pause, looking at the way he’s fidgeting. 

“Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies tersely, narrowing his eyes. 

You ask if he wants a lap dance, but he’s so hesitant that you just end up sitting next to him and chatting instead.

“So, do you enjoy working here?” he sounds less nervous now he’s gotten to know your name, at least. 

“Yeah, nice customers for the most part, but the hours are pretty long.”

“Same with my job– the hours, I mean.”

“You don’t work with the public?”

“Sort of…” he trails off, dark eyes darting over your features.

You notice, despite your clothing revealing most of your body to him, that he’s focusing on your lips more than anything.

“You’re um,” he takes a long pause, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “very pretty.”

How sweet. Your eyes widen slightly, a smile forming on your lips. You’re not used to sweet. 

“Th-thank you.” you can’t help the stuttering– the way he’s looking at you with sudden intensity catches your tongue.

“Shall we–” you reach to open the curtain of the private booth, your arm caught in his strong grip, your body freezing. 

“You– you can’t touch me–” does he not know that?

“Sorry” he retracts his hand, fiddling with his fingers. 

“You change your mind or something?”

“No, I just wanted to… look at you, for a little longer,” you turn to face him again, “if that’s ok.”

So you nod and sit down.

He has a hungry look in his eyes now– he starts with your face, your eyes, in fact, making incredible, unwavering contact until you can’t take it, your pupils darting away to his amusement. Then he finds your mouth, and the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.

Then your neck, where he focuses intently on the slow thrum of your jugular. He licks his lips, making you squirm and wish he would’ve accepted the lap dance.

His gaze darts over the rest of your body and you watch the clock tick over to midnight, signalling fifteen minutes and the end of his private… whatever the fuck this was.

“Time’s up.” You stand and reach for the curtain, feeling his eyes remain over your figure as you step out and waltz back to the changing rooms. 

You get off early tonight, having a final smoke with your colleagues when you see a text pop through from Toji. After exchanging numbers months ago, he barely contacts you, only asking where you are if you’re not at your regular shift.

[00:14] Toji 

Come over?

You’re surprised he’s asking. 

You’re tempted– after all, it is for Toji. You’ve been wanting him to reach out to you, thinking that he would’ve made his move much sooner. Every cell in your body is telling you not to do this, but you ignore the feeling, finding his hotel.

You enter the room– luckily for you, in a slightly nicer establishment than usual– still, one that is filled with the smell of alcohol and cannabis, the TV blaring on some late night gambling channel.

So they sit you down, welcoming you into their little games and bets, offering you hard liquor and joints till you’re tipsy. 

After Toji’s multiple visits to your workplace, and seeing you at other clubs with your friends, he knows you’re into all kinds of drugs. 

He caught you with white powder under your nose on one occasion, your pupils the size of the fucking moon another night, and with a blunt hanging out your mouth after work one evening.

He’s seen it all. He knows you’re a fiend. So… what’s the harm in pushing you a little further? Surely you can take it.

⁺⋆

Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body slumped on the floor against the coffee table while you stare at the TV in stupor. Their joints were just so packed it's nearly finished you off, and the last few drags tasted kinda funny.

“Can we tie her up now?” 

You’re not sure if you heard that right, swivelling in the direction of the voice and blinking in disbelief.

You turn to find Toji with his legs spread wide, slouched back on the sofa where you left him, while the younger man stands holding some kind of cord in his hands. 

Your eyes widen, your mind jolting awake when you see the way he pulls and grips it, stepping closer to you. Your body lags. 

“Mm” Toji grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV. 

Megumi takes this as permission to pull you up and drag you to the bedroom, your legs stumbling after your body, your mind succumbing to panic. 

His hand tugs at your wrist, while you’re distracted by something strange in the edges of your vision. It’s subtle to start with, colours fading in where they weren’t before, shadows starting to move. 

You try to ignore it, blaming the weed and flickering lights playing tricks on your mind.

You’re pulled from your daze when Megumi jerks your arms roughly, your vision readjusting to find yourself on the bed, your wrists forced to the frame in a tight knot of coarse, black rope.

“Mm– Megumi,” your voice comes out more slurred than you expected, confusion crossing your features, “w-what’re you doin’...”

“What does it look like?” He shoots back, his sharp tone making you recoil.

“I, I don’ know– jus’, w-where’s Toji?”

He watches your eyes dart about, enjoying your fearful expression.

You notice a sinister glint behind his indigo irises, his face looming closer and starting to cloud your vision.

You’re squirming now, pushing yourself up the bed, trying to distance yourself from him. But he keeps coming.

“Stay still…” he stops your motions with a single cool hand closing around your ankle, dark eyes trained on your throat again.

Time stops still when he leans in and places a single, chaste kiss over your neck.

He does it slowly. Gently. As if you’re the only one he’d kiss like this. His silent intensity makes you tremble.

He pulls away with a pleased hum, the feeling of your heartbeat making his lips tingle, his dark mess of hair illuminated with a dull halo.

He’s not too far gone. You could still go back.

“Y-you don’ have to do this,” you stumble, your voice cracking.

“I know,” he presses another kiss over your jaw, becoming ravenous now he can almost smell your fear, “but I want to…”

His voice disappears into the crook of your neck, where he starts sucking and tonguing.

He wants to taste you.

There’s a deep ache inside you now, gripping at your heart and filling your lungs, where it spreads to your throat– to where you can feel his mouth over you.

Nobody has ever kissed you like this before.

The way he sucks and bites is cruel, your body starting to flood with pain. If he does it any harder you’re sure he’s going to taste your blood. He’s going to puncture your neck and let it spill.

“M-megumi– please–” your whispered sobs only urge him on, till he’s dragging his canines over you and sinking them into the soft flesh.

His impassioned movements finally ebb as he switches to tending your marked skin with his tongue and lips, inhaling your scent deeply.

He sits up now, looking longingly into your tear stained eyes, his pupils drifting to where your lips are quivering with his name.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lies, stroking your ankles gently.

Standing up, he watches you shake your head again, begging him not to go any further and that you’d anticipated being with Toji tonight, asking where he is again.

“He’s a little busy…” he cranes his neck to ensure his father is still transfixed by the TV.

“Plus, you should be grateful,” he tugs off his belt, “you get to take my virginity.”

Your eyes fly wide, your mouth dry and gulping for air stupidly.

Just the way he looks puts you on edge– and now you know he has no experience, you can’t begin to fathom what he’s going to do to you.

“Nn-no– thought, thought Toji w-w–”

His next movements are too swift for your idle, drug induced brain to comprehend.

He’s over you, your arms twisted uncomfortably above your head, his cock nudging at the sweet bud of your clit.

That’s the only ‘foreplay’ you’ll be treated to before he slots himself up against your tight, unprepped entrance, shoving your dress and panties aside.

“Toji!!!” you cry out for the older man, “Toji, god–” but your voice is interrupted, choked by his cock sinking into you, hard and deep.

The man before you has changed, his resting scowl paling in comparison to the now fierce arch of his eyebrows.

Why are you crying for his father when he has everything you need right here?

“Ah– haah—” you shake and squirm, struggling with his untamed, crude thrusting.

Your head flies back when he pushes deeper still, slowly working your raw pussy open to the shape of him, while he watches fresh tears trickling over your waterline and gathering beautifully in the corners of your wide, glassy eyes.

“Hm,” he lets a little laugh escape, enjoying your quiet sobbing and whimpering as he gets rougher and dirtier, grabbing and marking your skin.

Your arms start to jostle and tug in the bindings, your wrists aching from the pressure.

“Untie me…” you sniffle.

“Untie you? But I haven’t even got started yet…”

He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, trailing his hand down your face and stroking the marks on your neck.

“Might untie you after I hear you scream,” he gives you an experimental squeeze, then leans closer, bringing his face down next to yours.

The way he’s talking has you wondering if he really is a virgin, your thought quickly dispelled by his hedonistic thrusting.

You can hear his shaky breath in your ear now, your legs lifting instinctively when you feel him haphazardly pressing on your g-spot.

“Yeah, open up f’me,” he whispers, sucking on your earlobe, his free arm encircling your head to cage you in closer.

You can feel his hips start to jolt unevenly. He’s close.

“D-don– don’ cum inside,” you beg, your eyes getting bleary as he constricts your windpipe.

You feel him smirking over your skin, speeding up his ragged motions, squeezing.

Your pained breaths consume him, urging him to crush your throat with a look in his eyes that makes you believe he’s going to take your life.

His pale, beautiful face hovers above yours, eyes enrapt by every miniscule expression of terror that passes your features.

“S-s—” 

Your voice is gone, you can only fight for breath now, your body succumbing to a helpless fit.

You struggle. Kicking. Hips bucking.

He drinks it all in, thrusting mercilessly now.

“You can’t do that to her.” 

You hear a sudden deep, booming voice, hands pulled from your neck, air flooding your lungs as you sputter and cough.

Toji takes his son’s arms and bends them behind his back, restraining him instantly and pulling him off you; out of you.

He lets the sight sink in for a moment, words failing him. 

Toji’s affected by the drugs and booze, but he can still get some kind of hold on this fucked up situation.

“Look. Just let me show you… what you’re supposed to do,” he drawls into the younger man’s ear before releasing him.

Sure, he needs to take responsibility. But he can’t let you go. Not yet.

You shake your head again, watching the younger man struggling with his achy, hard boner after being denied his first raw dogging orgasm.

His father readjusts you on the bed to his own liking, leaving you tied up and taking your thighs in his beefy hands. He dips his head low, lips skimming over your neglected clit. 

“‘M feelin’ hungry…” he mutters, proceeding to swirl his tongue through your heat, where his son’s cock was digging moments ago, humming while parting your labia and licking sensually at your little jewel.

However done you are with this situation, overcome with lightheadedness from your choking, you’re glad to at least be sent reeling through a few much needed orgasms.

And now you’ve had a chance to breathe and relax a little, you’re becoming aware of a shift in your consciousness. 

Your body is right here, in this moment, experiencing every fleeting detail in high definition. But your mind is somewhere else, overcome with a feeling of simultaneous presence and dissociation. 

The older man sits up, patting the bed for his son to join him.

“You ok, doll?”

He watches you look around curiously, taking in the room that’s now bending and changing before you.

“Think the lsd’s kickin’ in…” he mutters, “just lay back, promise we’re not gunna hurt ya.”

“The-the what?” you stutter, your hands starting to tense and grip in the restraints.

“Look, there were a few drops of acid in that last wrap, jus’ relax, ok?”

Fuck. You knew you shouldn’t have come here.

You let it sink in, taking a deep breath so you don’t lose your cool. You cannot let your mind spiral on this drug.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, “good girl. Jus’ let go.”

You give up trying to fight it, obeying his gentle tones, working past the nausea to find your mind and body entering a different headspace.

Reality fades in and out, feeling their tongues on you, one after the other, switching and exchanging till you’re unaware of what’s happening to you.

You can only sense their touch, submitting your body to the chemical pleasure.

Your clothes are torn off now, soft, deep words being exchanged until you feel them shifting around.

You feel the unmistakable nudging of a hardened cock at your entrance once more. Only this time, it slips through your folds easily, your slick hole welcoming the long, hard member.

You blink slowly, your vision wobbling as your mind enters a trance in sync with their rhythm.

“Megumi?” no, “Toji?” you honestly can’t tell, your faculties slowly dulling as the powerful drug takes over.

You reach out your arms hoping to discern who’s inside you, only for their body to move away as another frame enters your view.

You feel his cock sink in, hips rolling and stimulating your senses till you’re creaming and moaning around his girth.

“T-tojii–” you’re sure it must be the older man. He feels strong, manhandling you and pushing you wider.

But he pulls away too soon.

You focus hard, seeing both of them now, one figure in front of the other, one man guiding, the other following.

“...like this… take her… deep…” you can only make out a few words, wide eyes distracted by the scar on his lips.

But the way Megumi’s cock slides in is completely different than before– the feral jackhammering transformed into long drags, smooth and hard.

They exchange words, Megumi’s movements getting greedier until you feel his body consuming yours in a display of lust and passion so strong you let out a scream of his name.

The sound of your voice, combined with the grip of your pussy that’s drenched with the slick of a fresh orgasm, rips a groan from his depths.

You hear him panting and moaning, his thrusts getting sloppy, until he’s drawn out of you again.

That was close. You think, realising his father pulled him away before he could spill inside you.

Things are getting blurry now. They’re both over you, on you, in you.

With the surreal visuals taking over, your mind enters another realm while they kiss and fuck and share your body.

Spiky black hair, blue and green eyes flashing, hard muscles and sadistic smiles are all you can see.

Their images burn into your retina, becoming a blurred mirage of nightmarish beauty. 

A sight that you will never forget.

Now that Toji’s brought his son up to speed and you’re all wet, you honestly can’t tell who is who.

So you sink into it, enjoying the spiralling visions behind your closed eyelids while they draw waves of orgasmic pleasure from your body.

They bend and move you, pinning your legs back, pushing deeper, then onto your knees. You’re getting so absorbed in the trip now, the euphoric energy taking over, that you’re only partly aware that you’re being lifted.

You’re off the bed, you know that much.

You’re in a pair of strong arms. It’s Toji. You smile, your eyes clearing to see his roguishly handsome face before you.

“Hey pretty girl,” he places tender kisses over your lips, and you accept them with pleasure, “gunna try somethin’ fun now…”

You giggle, liking the sound of that very much.

He holds you, his massive cock melting into your core so deep he’s going to become a part of you, then slides his fingers over your ass.

You feel another body behind you. Megumi.

You turn, feeling his lips over you as well, murmuring sweet praise in your ear the whole while.

You feel him sliding over your ass now, through the wet juice of your pussy, pushing into the tight ring.

“Oh, oh my– fuck–” he edges in, his father thrusting slowly while urging him to be gentle.

“Haahhh–” you breathe out, your head falling back onto Megumi’s hard shoulder where he caresses your skin with his lips.

“That’s– that’s fucking good,” he hums in your ear, pushing himself all the way back while grabbing your ass.

They cradle you, thrusting in tandem, as you reach a new level of bliss.

Hearing them, feeling them takes you higher, until you can only sense their deep moans vibrating through you, the drag of their cocks.

Your thoughts turn slippery, losing focus on the world around you, wondering how you ended up here in the first place, realising that you don’t care.

Right now, you care about the man in front of you, tall and broad, scarred lip between his teeth with dark green eyes fixed on yours.

His ever sombre stare resides behind those fiery irises.

It captivates you.

Your body is convulsing with dopamine once more, slurred thank yous leaving your lips, and all you can concentrate on is counting the shades of green in his eyes.

Flecks of amber shimmer within the emerald, his lashes blinking slowly, eyebrows quirking.

“Watcha lookin’ at?”

“Mm, pretty,” is all you can muster at this time, earning a snort of laughter.

He mutters under his breath and starts taking you harder till you feel him pulling you off his son and pushing you down on the bed.

Your legs spread, wide and obedient, holding yourself by the knees while he takes your nipples between his lips, between his teeth.

“How many times s’that now?” he feels you clenching and bucking again.

You just giggle and sigh, stroking his obsidian strands in a dreamy state.

He hums with pleasure; you feel his nose dipping into your neck, where he places soft, gentle kisses, in contrast to his now animalistic pace.

Letting off hot grunts and moans, he finally spills his hot, wet cum.

He pulls away, his son entering your vision once more.

Angling your ass up, he guides himself in again, enjoying the way your tight muscle spasms around him, but takes him all nonetheless.

His hips get nasty, drawing whimpers from you until he nears his release, growling and sinking his teeth into your marked skin.

“Fuck– fuck–” you tug at his jet black spikes, encouraging him to take all he needs until you feel his hot load shoot deep into you.

“Ugh, oh princess– fuck me–” he sighs, strong muscles overcome with exhaustion as he watches your beautiful features relax once more.

You feel peaceful, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair hangs over those dark eyes.

Your wavering vision absorbs his graceful figure in all his glory, your mouth opening before your brain catches up.

“Art” you poke at his hardened stomach, earning a slight smile, “artist.” You look up at his father now, appreciating the view as he stands before you.

You giggle, laying back and focusing on the ebb and flow of your breath, feeling your senses leave you, your eyes resting as you enter transcendental sleep.

⁺⋆

You wake to find your body bare, but clean.

There’s no longer white liquid oozing from you– just soft, warm sheets and the fresh smell of soap.

You climb out of the bed, stepping to the bathroom, eyes still half lidded and hazy.

You look in the mirror, finding kaleidoscopic visuals in the reflection, where the glass bends and trembles.

But you can see your face. Unscathed. Unharmed. You look down. It’s just a few bruises. You’re fine. 

Despite their questionable methods, this has been a good trip… and you have to admit, a very good fuck.

So in your giddy state, you tiptoe out to the main room, watching their heads turn from the TV, grins emerging.

“Mornin’ honey,” Toji coos. It’s dark outside. You have no idea what time it is.

You step over to the sofa, sinking between the two men again, taking their lips and tongues while their hands roam and fondle your body.

You sit back, enjoying how they’re drawn to you magnetically, allowing their pleasure to fill your body once more while you ride out the most ethereal high of your life.

⋆⁺ [see you in hell]

toji | m.list

[sailorgoon13]

Mattheo Riddle

Basics:

Full Name: Mattheo Riddle

Nickname: Matt, Matty

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 31 December, 1979

Heritage: English

Blood Status: Half- Blood

Wand: Yew, Dragon Heartstring, 13", Flexible

Appearance:

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Dark brown, almost black in some lighting

Skin Tone: Fair. Porcelain like

Height: 6'2"

Body Type: Lean, Athletic

Style: Mix of sophisticated and modern comfort. Tailored joggers, designer hoodies, and sleek leather jackets for a look that's both stylish and comfortable. His wardrobe is filled with premium basics like fitted T-shirts, cashmere sweaters, and designer sneakers.

Features: Intense gaze, Chiseled Jawline, Athletic build, Confident demeanor, Dark Aura, Magnetic Charm, Style, Always smoking a cigarette

Personality:

Traits: Ambitious, Intelligence, Charisma, Protective, Independant

Likes: Reading, Hanging out with friends, Causing Mischief,

Dislikes: Incompetence, Weakness, Conformity, Modesty

Hobbies: Quidditch, Dueling, Learning thing outside of the school curriculum, drawing

Fears: His father, Failure, Loss of control, Betrayal

Family and Friends:

Father: Tom Riddle Jr.

Known as Voldemort/ Dark Lord

Imprisoned on maximum security in Azkaban

Mother: Unknown

Was a follower of the Dark Lords

Died in childbirth

Friends: Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Enzo Berkshire

Magic:

Special Abilities: Natural aptitude to the Dark Arts, Parseltongue

Boggart: A dark version of himself

Patronus: Raven

Polyjuice: It might appear as a deep shade of burgundy or midnight blue. It would have a complex taste of rich spices like cinnamon and clove with a bitterness of black coffee

Amortentia: Old books, fresh pine and smoke

Backstory:

Mattheo Riddle was born on a cold winter's night in December 1979, the only child of Tom Riddle Jr., better known as the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort, and an unnamed witch who was a devoted follower of the Dark Arts. Mattheo's mother died in childbirth, leaving him orphaned from the moment he drew his first breath. Raised by other followers of his father, Mattheo grew up surrounded by darkness and secrecy, his childhood steeped in the shadows of his family's dark legacy.

From a young age, Mattheo exhibited a keen intellect and a thirst for knowledge that surpassed his years. Despite his upbringing among dark wizards and witches, he was drawn to the complexities of magic and the mysteries of the wizarding world. He devoured books on ancient spells, studied the intricacies of potion-making, and honed his magical skills with a diligence and determination that belied his tender age.

As Mattheo grew older, he began to chafe against the constraints of his family's legacy, yearning to carve out his own path in the world beyond the shadows of his father's name. When he received his letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the age of eleven, it was both a moment of triumph and trepidation. He knew that Hogwarts would be his chance to escape the dark influences that had surrounded him since birth, but he also feared the expectations that would follow him wherever he went.

At Hogwarts, Mattheo quickly distinguished himself as a student of exceptional talent and ambition. He excelled in his studies, earning top marks in every subject and mastering spells that left even his professors in awe. He became known for his sharp wit, his confident demeanor, and his ability to effortlessly navigate the complexities of wizarding society. Despite his aloof exterior, he formed close bonds with a select group of friends, including Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Enzo Berkshire, forming a tight-knit circle that would become the envy of the school.

Outside of the classroom, Mattheo's reputation as a Quidditch prodigy preceded him. He was a natural on the broomstick, with a skill and agility that made him a formidable opponent on the Quidditch pitch. He led the Slytherin Quidditch team to victory after victory, earning accolades and admiration from his peers and cementing his status as one of Hogwarts' most celebrated athletes.

Despite his success and popularity, Mattheo struggled with the weight of his family's legacy and the expectations that came with bearing the name of Voldemort. He grappled with questions of identity and morality, torn between the darkness of his heritage and the light that flickered within him. He yearned to break free from the shadows that had haunted him since birth, but he knew that the legacy of his father would always loom large over his life.

As he approached his final year at Hogwarts, Mattheo stood at a crossroads, torn between the past that defined him and the future that beckoned with promise. With graduation looming on the horizon, he knew that he would soon have to make a choice that would shape the course of his destiny. But for now, he would continue to walk the fine line between light and darkness, navigating the complexities of his heritage with courage and conviction, determined to forge his own path in a world that sought to define him by the sins of his father.

Academics:

Best Subject: DADA

Favorite Subject: Potions

Favorite Professor: Snape

Worst Subject: Muggle Studies

Least Favorite Subject: History of Magic

Least Favorite Professor: Binns

Student Life:

A mix of academic excellence, social prominence, and a constant struggle to define his own identity in the shadow of his father

Stood out as one of the brightest students, excelling and mastering more than just the curriculum

Popular, despite his challenges.

Is at every Slytherin event

Slytherin beater on the Quidditch team

Walks a fine line of light and dark, wrestling with his demons from his past

Is really just a puppy-eyed boy behind his tough exterior

Template: @hazyange1s

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Difficult:

Summary: Enemies to lovers (kind of), you are on a mission with overly handsy General Skywalker, you try to resist but... come on...

Warnings: None :)

Word count: 1,340

The dimly lit corridor of the Republic Cruiser seemed to close in on you as you ventured deeper into the heart of the ship. It was barely wide enough to fit the two of you. Anakin Skywalker, your fellow Jedi and mission partner, led the way, his Jedi robes flowing gracefully around him. You were following closely behind, green lightsaber securely fastened to your belt. The tension of the mission hung heavily in the air. 

He looked back at you as you met the end of the corridor, a wide grin on his face. He loved this. General Skywalker, the saviour of the Jedi, the golden boy, chosen one – he wore many titles, but in moments like these, he was just Anakin, still a teenage boy. You could only humour him as you nodded back, gesturing that you were ready to continue. 

His face turned serious then, his blue eyes flickering in the darkness, moving towards the door to your left, the door which hopefully led to the emergency escape passage, and a ladder towards your goal; the intelligence offices. He had aged in the war, you all had. 

We reached the door, and Anakin brought his gloved hand to the control panel. With a soft hiss, the door slid open, revealing a narrow passage bathed in dim emergency lighting. It was clear that this part of the cruiser hadn't seen much use in a long time.

“After you.” He said, his cheeky demeanour somewhat undermined by his searching, scanning eyes and defensive stance. He was ready for a fight, ready for some enemy to come out of the dark. You were certain that he was capable, that he knew what he was doing. His casual tone still annoyed you though.

It wasn’t the first time the two of you had been paired together for a mission, it happened with increasing frequency, especially as Anakin climbed through the army ranks for some reason… 

The passage seemed to stretch on forever, a labyrinthine maze of twists and turns. It was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the Republic Cruiser's more accessible areas.

As you walked, your sense heightened and your body became more alert. Your fingers flexed slightly, sensing an energy coming from somewhere ahead. The passage was far too dark to see any further than a few feet ahead but eventually your hands found the rungs of the ladder that you had to climb.

Anakin glanced at you, his eyes locking onto yours in the dim light. "After you," he repeated, gesturing for you to start the ascent.

You rolled your eyes but acquiesced. Tucking your hair behind your ears you began to climb, your boots echoing softly against the metal rungs. As you ascended, you couldn't help but feel Anakin's eyes on you, his presence close behind. The tension in the confined space was palpable, and you knew it wasn't just the mission that was causing it.

“These missions really do bring us closer together, don't they?” He says from underneath you. 

“It’s certainly cosy, General.” And it was. The ladder was enclosed in a small pipe-like structure, enough room to crouch and climb and not much else. 

The ladder seemed to go on forever, each rung taking you deeper into the heart of the ship. Your heart raced, not just from the physical exertion, but from the pressure of Anakin’s gaze. 

As you neared the top of the ladder, and the cover which you would need to arise from, Anakin climbed close behind you. His hand brushed against your waist and he pulled himself to your level, his long arms encapsulating you body. You tensed and resisted the urge to elbow him. His presence sent a jolt of electricity through your body. He didn't move his hand away, even as he ran his other over the edges of the hatch. You couldn’t pull away either, clinging onto the ladder with him against your back. 

“Do you mind?” You say, sharply. 

“Not at all.”

You close your eyes, praying to the force for patience.

“Ready?” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. His voice was low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. It was a dangerous game he was playing, in the darkness of the passage, with the mission hanging in the balance…

He opens the hatch quickly and jumps out, clearly ready for a battle. But he meets no resistance, instead he lowers his hand down to help you out of the tunnel. 

You shove his arm away and pull yourself out stubbornly. 

The dim emergency lighting cast shadows across Anakin's face as he watched you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Always so difficult, aren't you?" he remarked, his voice laced with a touch of sarcasm.

You shot him a glare, your eyes locked onto his. "I can handle myself, Skywalker," you retorted, your tone dripping with irritation.

Anakin's lips curled into a smirk, and he stepped closer to you, closing the distance between you. His eyes bore into yours, his blue gaze unwavering. "I've noticed," he said, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You gritted your teeth, refusing to be distracted. “We have a mission to complete, General.” You say the last word slow, as if to put him in his place, like he wasn’t your leading commander. 

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a tingle of frustration through you. "You're always so serious," he said, leaning in closer until his lips were dangerously close to yours. "You should learn to relax a little.”

The proximity between you was maddening, and you couldn't help but be acutely aware of the tension that hung in the air. Anakin's gaze flickered down to your lips, and you could see the desire burning in his eyes. But then he steps back, and smirks. 

Anakin sighed, his expression shifting from playful to serious. "alright," he conceded, straightening up. "Let's get this over with.”

The two of you continued down the narrow passage, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface. It was a constant battle of wills, a push and pull of attraction and irritation.

As you reached the intelligence offices, Anakin took the lead once more, his focus on the task at hand. You followed closely behind, your senses on high alert, scanning the area for any signs of danger.

The mission proceeded with precision, your Jedi training guiding your every move. Anakin's presence was a constant, reassuring presence by your side, even as you exchanged sharp words and glares. It was a dance of conflicting emotions, a battle between desire and duty. In the end, you prevailed, the enemy defeated, and the mission accomplished. But as you stood there, victorious but bruised, the tension between you and Anakin remained unresolved.

He approached you, his eyes searching yours, his voice softening. "We make a good team, you know," he said, his words filled with a sincerity that caught you off guard.

You couldn't help but soften in response, the anger and frustration giving way to a reluctant admiration. "Yeah," you admitted, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. "We do.”

Anakin's lips curled into a genuine smile, and he reached out to touch your arm, a gesture of camaraderie that felt strangely intimate. "Maybe one day we'll figure out how to get along outside of missions too.”

You raised an eyebrow, your guard still firmly in place. "Don't hold your breath, Skywalker."

Anakin didn't waste a moment. His lips crashed onto yours in a fiery, passionate kiss, and any pretence of restraint was shattered. It had probably been building for months. The world around you faded away as you lost yourselves in each other's embrace. His hands moved possessively over your body, fingers tracing the contours of your curves through your Jedi robes.

Almost without stopping, but with a cursory glance around the room, Anakin dragged you over to a narrow door to the right, closing it behind you, you realised that it was a closet. 

[useless-moss]

Back with the dragon headcanons.

This episode: The Night Fury

Buckle up, this is a long one.

Color variations! Their whole body is usually a dark color. Shades of black/dark grey, dark blue, dark purple are the most common. However, they also have lighter colored patterns on the underside of their wings. Blurred together scales and marks that resemble the northern lights and/or a galaxy type design. It started as a mutation meant for better camouflage, but eventually turned into a mating thing like with peacocks. A night fury has really pretty patterns/designs on the underside of their wings? They have a better chance of getting a mate.

Patterns. They have darker markings and patterns. Think of a black jaguar or a tabby cat for reference. Also, accompanying the previously mentioned designs on the underside of their wings, white speckles that look like stars and can even extend to their underbelly.

Toothless has melanism, hense his more solidly black design, and is actually considered even more rare because of his coloration alone.

They have the widest eye color variation among dragons. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, even shades that look purple are possible.

They usually live in large packs led by a female alpha/queen. If you find one Night Fury, there's usually at least ten more nearby.

Night Fury's in a pack are able to fight the control of dragons like the Red Death and Bewilderbeast more easily since, well, they already have an alpha they're following. Solo Night Furys are still strong willed and can break out with enough trying, but it's significantly harder.

Night Furys are one of if not the most intelligent dragon species. They're able to adapt to different environments, learn from observation to mimic other animal, dragon, and even human behavior, can recognize human weapons, and are smart enough to strategize hunting plans.

Building onto that last point, they don't hunt anywhere near where they nest. They'll fly miles away to hunt for, usually, fish. At least half of the pack will leave at a time while the other half stays back to guard the hatchling, eggs, and nesting area in general. This behavior was learned and adopted after being hunted to near extinction.

Their favorite nesting places are areas that humans can't easily get to. Large cliffs with rocky/rushing water below and in areas prone to storms. Again, a learned behavior from being hunted.

More nesting info, they use a combination of their plasma blasts and claws to dig/carve out caves into said cliffs, which is where they'll nest. Cliff side in an area you can't get too close to on boat with a bunch of holes in the side? Congrats! You probably just found a Night Fury nesting ground and should turn back quickly.

Night Furys aren't inherently aggressive or hostile at all, really. They're wary of humans for obvious reasons, and will defend themselves and their pack/territory, but otherwise they're pretty laid back. Big cats, essentially. Don't be a threat, give them space, and you get to live. This is partly due to them being smart enough to recognize via body language, tone, and even supplies if someone or something is a threat or not.

You want to tame a Night Fury? No weapons, bring food, and again give space. Let them come to you, because they will eventually. Will begin to realize you're not a threat, then realize you bring snacks, then accept that you're pretty alright and begin allowing more physical contact/affection and eventually be okay riding/flying with you. It's a slow process built entirely on trust and mutual respect. If you start getting pushy with a Night Fury, especially too soon in the process, they'll push you away and you have to start from scratch.

Night Fury's are very, very, very protective and loyal. Arguably one of the best dragons to tame purely off of the fact they'll stick with you until the very end and do everything possible to keep you safe.

Once you've tamed or generally befriended a Night Fury you're considered part of the pack. Dynamic from there depends on the type of Night Fury you're dealing with. An adult/older male or female with a history of hatchlings? They'll likely consider you as one of their own babies. A juvenile/younger male or female? They'll likely see you more as a sibling. A hatchling? Hope you're ready to be a parent cause that's what they'll likely see you as.

Cuddle piles. They'll usually sleep cuddled up with littlermates and parents in a pile of sort for warmth and security. This is a behavior that persists into adulthood, since it's a source of comfort and stability as well as a bonding experience.

You know the smaller nubs on a Night Fury's head? Hatchlings tend to suckle on those for comfort. There's literally no other reason. It's like a baby with a pacifier, essentially.

My personal favorite now, SCRUFF! Hatchlings have looser yet tougher skin on the back of their neck that acts as a scruff, allowing adults to pick them up and carry them around easily. As they age it stretches and thins and, eventually, that pressure point we saw in httyd 2 becomes 'exposed.' At that point a parent or other adult Night Fury will nudge the spot with their snout or claws to activate it. This whole process usually occurs around early juvenile/teen stages, since that's when a night fury will begin actively joining hunting parties and need to fly with more speed and agility.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 14, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Sep 15, 2024

Five years ago, on September 15, 2019, after about a six-week hiatus during the summer, I wrote a Facebook post that started:

“Many thanks to all of you who have reached out to see if I'm okay. I am, indeed (aside from having been on the losing end of an encounter with a yellow jacket this afternoon!). I've been moving, setting up house, and finishing the new book. Am back and ready to write, but now everything seems like such a dumpster fire it's very hard to know where to start. So how about a general overview of how things at the White House look to me, today....” 

I wrote a review of Trump’s apparent mental decline amidst his faltering presidency, stonewalling of investigations of potential criminal activity by him or his associates, stacking of the courts, and attempting to use the power of the government to help his 2020 reelection. 

Then I noted that the chair of the House Intelligence Committee, Representative Adam Schiff (D-CA), had written a letter to the acting director of national intelligence, Joseph Maguire, on Friday, September 13, telling Maguire he knew that a whistleblower had filed a complaint with the inspector general of the intelligence community, who had deemed the complaint “credible” and "urgent.” This meant that the complaint was supposed to be sent on to the House Intelligence Committee. But, rather than sending it to the House as the law required, Maguire had withheld it. Schiff’s letter told Maguire that he’d better hand it over. Schiff speculated that Maguire was covering up evidence of crimes by the president or his closest advisors.

And I added: “None of this would fly in America if the Senate, controlled by Majority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, were not aiding and abetting him.”

“This is the story of a dictator on the rise,” I wrote, “taking control of formerly independent branches of government, and using the power of his office to amass power.”

Readers swamped me with questions. So I wrote another post answering them and trying to explain the news, which began breaking at a breathtaking pace. 

And so these Letters from an American were born.

In the five years since then, the details of the Ukraine scandal—the secret behind the whistleblower complaint in Schiff’s letter—revealed that then-president Trump was running his own private foreign policy to strong-arm Ukraine into helping his reelection campaign. That effort brought to light more of the story of Russian support for Trump’s 2016 campaign, which until Russia’s February 2022 invasion of Ukraine seemed to be in exchange for lifting sanctions the Obama administration imposed against Russia after Russia invaded Ukraine in 2014. 

The February 2022 invasion brought renewed attention to the Mariupol Plan, confirmed by Trump’s 2016 campaign advisor Paul Manafort, that Russia expected a Trump administration to permit Russian president Vladimir Putin to take over eastern Ukraine. 

The Ukraine scandal of 2019 led to Trump’s first impeachment trial for abuse of power and obstruction of Congress, then his acquittal on those charges and his subsequent purge of career government officials, whom he replaced with Trump loyalists. 

Then, on February 7, just two days after Senate Republicans acquitted him, Trump picked up the phone and called veteran journalist Bob Woodward to tell him there was a deadly new virus spreading around the world. It was airborne, he explained, and was five times “more deadly than even your strenuous flus.” “This is deadly stuff,” he said. He would not share that information with other Americans, though, continuing to play down the virus in hopes of protecting the economy.

More than a million of us did not live through the ensuing pandemic.

We have, though, lived through the attempts of the former president to rig the 2020 election, the determination of American voters to make their voices heard, the Black Lives Matter protests after the murder of George Floyd, the election of Democrat Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris, and the subsequent refusal of Trump and his loyalists to accept Biden’s win. 

And we have lived through the unthinkable: an attack on the U.S. Capitol by a mob determined to overrule the results of an election and install their own candidate in the White House. For the first time in our history, the peaceful transfer of power was broken. Republican senators saved Trump again in his second impeachment trial, and rather than disappearing after the inauguration of President Biden, Trump doubled down on the Big Lie that he had been the true winner of the 2020 presidential election. 

We have seen the attempts of Biden and the Democratic-controlled Congress to move America past this dark moment by making coronavirus vaccines widely available and passing landmark legislation to rebuild the economy. The American Rescue Plan, the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, the CHIPS and Science Act, and the Inflation Reduction Act spurred the economy to become the strongest in the world, proving that the tested policy of investing in ordinary Americans worked far better than post-1980 neoliberalism ever did. After Republicans took control of the House in 2023, we saw them paralyze Congress with infighting that led them, for the first time in history, to throw out their own speaker, Kevin McCarthy (R-CA). 

We have watched as the Supreme Court, stacked by Trump with religious extremists, has worked to undermine the proven system in place before 1981. It took away the doctrine that required courts to defer to government agencies’ reasonable regulations and opened the way for big business to challenge those regulations before right-wing judges. It ended affirmative action in colleges and universities, and it overturned the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision recognizing the constitutional right to abortion. 

And then we watched the Supreme Court hand down the stunning decision of July 1, 2024, that overturned the fundamental principle of the United States of America that no one is above the law. In Donald J. Trump v. U.S., the Supreme Court ruled that a president could not be prosecuted for crimes committed as part of his official duties.

We saw the reactionary authoritarianism of the former president’s supporters grow stronger. In Republican-dominated states across the country, legislatures passed laws to suppress Democratic voting and to put the counting of votes into partisan hands. Trump solidified control over the Republican Party and tightened his ties to far-right authoritarians and white supremacists. Republicans nominated him to be their presidential candidate in 2024 to advance policies outlined in Project 2025 that would concentrate power in the president and impose religious nationalism on the country. Trump chose as his running mate religious extremist Ohio senator J.D. Vance, putting in line for the presidency a man whose entire career in elected office consisted of the eighteen months he had served in the Senate.

In that first letter five years ago, I wrote: “So what do those of us who love American democracy do? Make noise. Take up oxygen…. Defend what is great about this nation: its people, and their willingness to innovate, work, and protect each other. Making America great has never been about hatred or destruction or the aggregation of wealth at the very top; it has always been about building good lives for everyone on the principle of self-determination. While we have never been perfect, our democracy is a far better option than the autocratic oligarchy Trump is imposing on us.” 

And we have made noise, and we have taken up oxygen. All across the country, people have stepped up to defend our democracy from those who are open about their plans to destroy it and install a dictator. Democrats and Republicans as well as people previously unaligned, we have reiterated why democracy matters, and in this election where the issue is not policy differences but the very survival of our democracy, we are working to elect Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris and her running mate, Minnesota governor Tim Walz.

If you are tired from the last five years, you have earned the right to be.

And yet, you are still here, reading. 

I write these letters because I love America. I am staunchly committed to the principle of human self-determination for people of all races, genders, abilities, and ethnicities, and I believe that American democracy could be the form of government that comes closest to bringing that principle to reality. And I know that achieving that equality depends on a government shaped by fact-based debate rather than by extremist ideology and false narratives. 

And so I write.

But I have come to understand that I am simply the translator for the sentiments shared by millions of people who are finding each other and giving voice to the principles of democracy. Your steadfast interest, curiosity, critical thinking, and especially your kindness—to me and to one another—illustrate that we have not only the power, but also the passion, to reinvent our nation.

To those who read these letters, send tips, proofread, criticize, comment, argue, worry, cheer, award medals (!), and support me and one another: I thank you for bringing me along on this wild, unexpected, exhausting, and exhilarating journey.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #15: Lux Solaris

Prompt: deodate (free write) || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: Spoilers for Dawntrail.

---

It was in the heart of the Meso Terminal, before the throne of the Queen Eternal, that Synnove discovered just what the fuck had been going on with her Dreadwyrm Protocol.

The Protocol was the most strictly-maintained of all her spells, the one most rigidly bound off from every array in her grimoire with pages of page-blocks to ensure its core programming didn’t leak into any of the carbuncles. It was also the spell that had seen the fewest modifications—in fact, beyond locking out Galette and then ensuring the smooth linking between it and her Phoenix Protocol, it was otherwise unaltered from what Prin had given her years ago. It was a perfectly functional spell, did exactly what it needed to rain down untold destruction, and if Synnove never had to manipulate the Dreadwyrm’s aether again in her life, it would be too soon.

(Too, there was the fact Synnove was still mad as hell that Prin hadn’t exactly divulged just what the spell it had gifted her had been. The coding had been so alien to her eyes that she hadn’t recognized it not being a mere variation on Allagan egis, and, well, she always did her initial testing with Galette—

IDENTIFY THE ENEMY YOU WISH TO ANNIHILATE.

—suffice to say it was a good thing she’d gone out to test the damned thing on Seal Rock when the island wasn’t being used for wargames. Bad enough both she and Galette had spent the next sennight coming down from the resulting panic attack.)

But that meant she was keenly aware of when the Protocol began to behave oddly. It was how she had first noticed Phoenix’s aether beginning to strengthen, back on the First, which in turn had led to her and Urianger and Alphinaud and Alisaie losing their collective minds as they build out a demi-primal array from scratch.

The past few moons hadn’t seen quite as a drastic change in the Protocol as had been on the First. No, it had been far more subtle; strange bits of…not stagnation, but frequent shifts toward umbral polarity, even a faint hint of Light at some points. Less rage had filtered through the Protocol, that millennia of hatred barely tempered by its filtering through a mere demi-primal that always accompanied an activation of the Dreadwyrm Protocol, instead more of a cool, calculating regard.

And now, here in this space made of levin and electrope, Synnove had activated the Protocol, and what had answered was not the lesser form of the Dreadwyrm.

This demi-primal was white as Light, and its draconic shape was more closely aligned with what a son of the First Brood would have looked like, and not the warped abomination he become under Ascian influence. Its head lacked eyes, however, and strange crenellations crested its head and neck. A crown of Light wheeled above that crest, and its wings—

—its wings were gods-be-damned fucking SWORDS.

It was only a heartbeat between the activation of the Protocol and Ivar becoming the control core of the demi-primal. Synnove could feel her youngest son’s bafflement in the back of her mind, and knowing he was all right was about the only way she didn’t panic in the middle of a battle.

And then, in a cool, crisp voice, echoing with multiple tones through her mind like clarion bells:

LIGHTWYRM SUBROUTINE NOW ONLINE. SUMMONER PRIME LOCATED. DESIGNATION: SYNNOVE GREYWOLFE. REFULGENT LUX GRANTED TO SUMMONER PRIME. SUNFLARE GRANTED TO SUMMONER PRIME.

“What,” Synnove said intelligently, “the fuck.”

The demi-primal stretched its right wing, and one the Queen Eternal’s attendant drones slammed into and broke into pieces. Synnove, jolted back to awareness, dodged through the chaos to return to the safety of Heron’s back and rejoin the battle properly.

“Synnove, what the fuck?!” Rere somehow made the question a part of the ballad she was weaving to bolster their attacks.

“I don’t know!”

ANNHILATION TARGET DETECTED. QUERY: SUMMONER PRIME, DOES THIS UNIT HAVE PERMISSION TO ENGAGE?

“Yes,” Synnove said, already casting a Ruin III spell. “With extreme prejudice!”

The strange not-quite-a-dragon seemed to regard the Queen Eternal. And then it opened its mouth, and R O A R E D.

PROTOCOL: EXODUS ACTIVATED.

Light filled the Interphos, the same brilliant radiance that had answered Hydaelyn’s call during Her test, deep in the aetherial sea. And then it exploded, and the Queen Eternal howled her rage.

“SYNNOVE WHAT THE FUCK.”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

--

“So, I think I know what the fuck.”

Nearly a moon after successfully saving the world—again—the mages of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn (sans Urianger, who was still off somewhere with Thancred, and he was going to be outraged he’d missed this) clustered around the table in one of the conference rooms of the Baldesion Annex. Synnove sat cross-legged on the table itself, fist propping up her cheek, Galette around her neck, and Ipomoea primly loafed in her lap. The Highlander knew she looked as she always did after a research binge: hair a disaster, clothes wrinkled from being slept in, circles beneath her eyes.

The only thing missing was chalk dust, and that was only because she’d been up to her eyeballs in unspooled carbuncles for the past damned moon.

Krile reached forward and tapped at an Allagan projection device built into the table. It lit up immediately, copies of a subset of arcanima array now floating in the air for easy view.

“Let the record show we’ve got a segment of the Dreadwyrm Protocol on display,” Synnove said tonelessly.

G’raha, acting as the meeting scribe, chuckled quietly, but did as requested.

“This bit is the manifestation coding, it’s basically the mathematical image of the Dreadwyrm that the Allagans put together. What’s on display now is what Prin gave me. And this—”

Ipomoea blinked her eyes with an audible shuttering sound. The array changed.

“—is what it looks like as the Lightwyrm Protocol.”

“Well, that’s a significant change,” Alphinaud said slowly, his eyes wide. “I can see the similarities that we can assume are for ‘dragon,’ but what commands for unaspected aether are now for Light.”

“I want the bits that make the sword wings,” Alisaie said. “That is inspired work.”

Alphinaud barely restrained a sigh, glancing heavenward instead for strength as everyone else chuckled.

“I can see where the commands are branching off to affect spells like Astral Flow,” Y’shtola murmured thoughtfully. “Still following the framework you created for demi-primals. But you can still access the Dreadwyrm Protocol?”

“Mmm,” Synnove said. “But have to do this one first. Then in sequence, it’s Dreadwyrm, back to Lightwyrm, then Phoenix, then the cycle repeats. I can’t say I’m not too mad about that, s’nice not to have my trauma shoved in my face whenever we need some extra firepower.”

“Probably has to do with balancing the Light aether, though I can’t figure out how just yet,” Krile said.

Synnove inclined her head. “That’s my theory at the moment, but I’ll need to do more testing. Regardless, that brings me to this.”

Ipomoea blinked again. A different array now floated above the table, causing everyone to frown.

“Is that a message array?” Alisaie said. “Like the Arcanists’ Guild uses for courier work on their carbuncles.”

“It is very similar,” Synnove said, and gently tapped Ipomoea’s head. The sapphire carbuncle twitched her left ear a perfect fifteen degrees, and the array display zoomed in. “You all see this bit of sigilwork and equation here?”

Murmurs of ascent.

“The one time I saw this,” Synnove said, enunciating clearly, “was in Elpis. When Venat sat down with me and the girls, and showed us the full spell frame for her traveler’s ward.”

Five pairs of eyes just stared at her. Synnove raised her eyebrows, waiting. She’d had her moment of garbled cursing three days ago when she’d found that damn signature.

“Are you telling us,” Y’shtola said slowly, “that this new Protocol was made by Hydaelyn Herself?”

“My dearest, darling friend and partner in magical crime,” Synnove drawled, “that is exactly what I’m telling you.”

Krile was covering her face with her hands. “Oh, great good gods, we’re going need to put this under the strictest lock they have in Noumenon,” she groaned.

G’raha was still frantically writing. “I’m not wholly sure I’d trust it to stay safe even there,” he said. “My vote would be to store it up at Bestway Burrows, or perhaps with the Watcher.” He glanced up at Synnove. “This is more for my own amusement than any record keeping, but what did Rereha say about this particular revelation?”

“She said, quote: ‘Oh, cool, Mom decided as a last hurrah that she could get in a last round of one upmanship on the Ascians and design a better dragon.’”

Alisaie and Krile were both giggling before Synnove had even finished talking. Alphinaud didn’t try to stifle his sight this time, while Y’shtola and G’raha exchanged rueful looks.

Synnove merely shrugged, ignoring Galette’s resulting grumble. “She’s probably not wrong.”

“Oh, the loporrits are going to adore that,” Krile said around her giggles. “Sword wings.”

“Sword wings,” Synnove said. And grinned.

[itsyaboighostie]

Murder Drones Au where Uzi is a just a fucking door and Khan's love for Doors is just him adoring his daughter.

While constructing the doors, Khan and Nori built Project Unified Zone Intelligence, an AI program that has full access to the entire bunker with the purpose of maintaining and protecting its occupants from Disassembly Drones and environmental threats caused by the planet's toxic atmosphere.

Everything begins with Khan making a joke about the Project being the closest they'll get to having an actual child, which sparked the ever brilliant idea between the two to give the AI a personality and sentience by mixing both of their codes and modifying it to fit the systems non-Worker Drone programming and formatting. Of course the AI is no use if it's infected by the Absolute Solver, so with a bit (read: a lot) of tinkering on Nori's side with the Cross Patch, Uzi was born!

A few things/events/facts to note for this AU:

When they first released the Untrained Neutral Network into the system, they limited her access to just Doors and lights. Having told none of the other Workers about Project U.Z.I. in fear of someone sabotaging it for whatever reason, the entire bunker was left confused when the doors would randomly lock or open and the lights would flicker with no rhyme or reason.

The couple would go around bragging about their new daughter to everyone, but when asked to see her they would bring up a (horrible) excuse as to why no one should see her. For years everyone thought they were just making her up.

Uzi loved to play with her parents by closing the doors on them as they're about to walk through, this of course led to Khan constantly baby talking doors at random, which then led to the nickname "Doorman" given to him by other Drones.

Khan took this as a new badge to wear and thus the Doorman family was created.

When Uzi got older, she was given more access to the bunker. Come time when most young Drones in her generation are given their Adult Models, Uzi was finally given a body of her own and complete control over the entire bunker. This is also when people realize Uzi wasn't just a delusion made up by her parents.

Khan doesn't stop talking to his daughter through doors even after she was given a physical body, which led to a lot of embarrassment for Uzi when he wouldn't stop the "doors are my real daughter" jokes.

Because she was given a body way later than her peers, she often struggled with walking and talking which caused a lot of bullying from her peers.

After mastering basic motor skills, Uzi went on to start building herself other bodies using spare parts she scavenged from outside. These can range from spare bodies in case something happens to her current one to Dissembly Drone-esque models crafted for the purpose of defense should an actual one get in.

Up to the current canon timeline, no one still knows that Uzi has complete control over the entire bunker.

She meets N when scavenging parts for an upgrade she's been working on that requires a lot of Worker Drone cores, an upgrade that consists of allowing the entire bunker to be mobile and move.

Everything basically plays out the same except Uzi has a bit more of an advantage against the Murder Drones mayhaps 👀

[veespee]

Vinnie is *such* a complex character i feel. And he makes me feel very conflicted, but here are some (personal) opinions about him: (kinda an analysis? idk i'm just rambling)

-Firstly, he's the voyeur, although unknowingly. The word “voyeur” has two meanings, the first one is.. we won't talk about it, but the *second* one is: a person who enjoys seeing the pain or distress of others. Now, i don't really think he actually likes seeing people in pain. Of course, he shows remorse and guilt over the deaths of his close ones, and even people he didn't know that where victims, so why voyeur? Why would HABIT describe him as a “voyeuristic fuck”?

So, i may be getting some lore wrong, and i apologize in advance, but it's revealed that he has led everyone to their deaths, due to his insistence to keep filming and find answers. Also, if i remember right, he had intentionally left out footage that caused him to be seen in a bad light, and it showed that he had led Jeff and Alex to their doom.

-Now, of course for any sane person, why would someone do that? The answer is… well, for answers. That's the word he seems to be infatuated with, ’answers’. And it's made pretty clear. He saw what HABIT was doing, he saw the state Evan was in, and he knew. He was fully aware, he's not stupid, and he knew what he was doing. If Evan wasn't going to do what Vinnie was telling him to, then… he was going to summon HABIT. He was also aware of HABIT's intelligence/experience with the human race, which was good for him, since he was going to get his questions answered.

-Now’s the trick question (for me at least), is Vinnie a horrible person? Well… yes, and no? I mean, he did do horrible things, that much can be said. He led everyone to doom, he purposefully ignored people's wishes (Evan's request for Vinnie not to upload the video about Jesse's grandmother dying), and of course, continuing to record after all of these things happened, despite Jeff's and Evan's wishes. But he feels incredibly guilty. “Sometimes you gotta do stuff that you don't agree with, but that's the price you pay. But you gotta remember, sometimes the price is too steep, and you just can't live with yourself... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry to everyone that I've hurt, to everyone that has died, around me or because of me.” (these are his own words).

I honestly believe he's a very, very flawed character. His goal is answers, and he will do anything to get them. He has the drive to get what he desperately wants, even after being tortured by HABIT. And i feel that HABIT has some respect for him because of that. And of course, his role was set from the start. Everything was calculated, and he was fulfilling his role, “the voyeur”, “the guardian”, whatever it may be. Everything happened for a reason, the God Killer was created, Vinnie's “purpose” was completed. I guess he could be described as a pawn, a follower that was blinded by his desperation for knowledge and control, but fell into the traps of the bigger entities at play.

thank you for reading! i apologize if i got any characteristics wrong, i just wanted to get my thoughts out. and this is very yap-y, so here's a TL;DR:

Vinnie is a complex ass character, who's blinded by his search for control and answers. He's guilty and self loathing, but avoids responsibility. Basically… opinions vary about him, you either love him or hate him.

[ihrtnemi]

This is Falling, Falling in Love?

You were curious about who this "Mysterious Healer" was. CW: Fluff - Mentions of wounds - f!reader - Shinobuxreader WC: 1375 Header - https://ph.pinterest.com/pin/943856034379557122/ Hope people will like this! still trying to improve on writing, send me tips? DO NOT REPOST/REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

You were a well established slayer in the Demon Slayer Corps. You had only joined the Corps just a month ago and you were able to reach the rank of Kinoto at such a fast pace. With you only being there for a month, you were still unaware of basically everything in the Demon Slayer Corps. For example, you still haven't met any of the Hashira, which was surprising since you heard that most demon slayers have met a hashira before they even ranked Kanoto. You heard many rumors in the corps, a hashira who had 4 wives and a boy who had carried a demon around but the corps let the demon stay!? Although shocking news, you didn't really care about rumors. However, a rumor did manage to catch your attention, there was apparently an intelligent and mysterious healer who could heal any wound in the Corps. You haven't really used the medical benefits the Demon Slayer Corps offered so you couldn't investigate much. 

Which led you here, spying on other people for more information about the “Mysterious Healer”. Yes, you were an established slayer but no one could deny that you were on the more shy side. You preferred to be in more quiet places as you didn't know much about socializing. You also took an interest in medical herbs and healing, that's why this “Intelligent Healer” caught your attention.

Even with all the effort, you couldn't get much information. You thought about asking other slayers but you would rather die. So, you just decided to finish the mission you were assigned to do.

The mission told you to go to Mt. Natagumo, the letter told you that many demon slayers have gone missing in the area and that immediate help was needed. You ran towards the destination and when you arrived, you saw many slayers dead. You looked to your left and saw a demon slayer charging towards you. 

“Help me! Please!” the slayer shouted at you. “What's happening? Why are you attacking me?” you shouted back.

“The demon is controlling me with strings! I don't wanna die!” as the slayer told you what was happening, you finally caught on and noticed the strings. You were able to slash them all and free the slayer. 

“You should go back, there are kakushi outside the forest entrance.” the slayer thanked you for the information and ran at the speed of light. 

You then turned back around, making sure that your senses were on high, and ran towards wherever you felt the demon near. 

As you arrived, you saw a red headed boy heavily injured trying to fight the demon. You rushed in and tried to slice the neck of the demon but failed to notice the strings surrounding it. You noticed the string late and dodged most of them. You got multiple cuts on your body but nothing as bad as what the red haired boy behind you had. 

“He's a lower moon!” The boy behind you said. “What? No way!” you said in shock.

With the knowledge you had the logical thing to do was to be on even higher alert but as you were about to attack, someone sliced the demons head off first.

“You guys did well,” the guy with a mixed-matched haori said.

You didn't know what happened but everything turned black. 

You woke up in an infirmary, still clueless as to where you were. You thought to yourself, “Where the hell am I?” while looking around. Then, you heard the door open revealing three little girls greeting you.

“Goodmorning! You are finally awake! You have a super big gash on your stomach! Don't move too much!” all three of them shouted cheerfully in unison. The girl with pink bows then spoke, “How are you feeling? Actually what's your name?” 

“It's (Y/N) (L/N), I hate to interrupt but where am I?” you asked nervously. 

“You're at the butterfly estate! This is where all demon slayers get healed!” They all said in unison.

“The butterfly estate? Where all demon slayers get healed? The mysterious healer should be here right?” you thought. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” the girl with green bows asked. 

“Yes, sorry. Do you perhaps know about a super intelligent and mysterious healer who can apparently heal all wounds?” you asked with speed.

You looked at the girls who all stared up at the ceiling in thought. “That would be me,” a girl who had a butterfly themed haori entered the room.

“Maybe not all wounds though.” she giggled softly. 

You looked at her and she looked at you. “Hello?” the healer asked. 

“Hi?” you said shyly. “Uhm, what's your name?” you asked.

“Shinobu Kocho”

A few days passed and throughout those days you were able to grow enough courage to spend time with Shinobu. She then discovered that you had an interest in Medicine and decided to let you stay at the butterfly estate when you had the free time. 

“Shinobu?”

“Yes my dear?” she looked at you.

“Can I sit next to you and watch you do your research?” you trailed off, “Actually nevermind, sorry for interrupting” 

You were then interrupted, “Sit” was all she said. You did as you were told and watched her do her work. 

You were interested in what she was doing of course, yes yes. Still, your eyes kept wandering to her side profile. She looked so elegant and engrossed in her studies. You then heard, “Are you okay, dear?” she said. You looked at her embarrassed, “Yes! Totally!” then looked away.

Shinobu looked at you smiling at your shyness, she found it cute.

“I'll go to bed now, goodnight” you bowed. “Goodnight, (Y/N)”

Ever since that happened, call it cliche but you felt like it was love at first sight! After a few months of being friends, she even started to flirt and tease you. It made you even more attracted to her.

The compliments she would give you and the subtle winks were able to send you into a blushing mess. However, you did hear that Shinobu was just the teasing kind. You saw it too, she would tease the shy ones like Tomioka and me. It made your heart swell in sadness and it also made you doubt if she really just saw you as a friend. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Shinobu said to you.

“Hi,” you said rather sadly, much to her dismay.

“What's wrong, butterfly?” she asked with a hint of worry in her voice. 

“Don't worry, it's nothing” you said. 

“Come on, can you tell me please?” she looked at you pleading. 

You wanted to tell her how you felt. How you loved her, how you felt sad about her teasing other people, how you didn't know if she even liked you back and how you-”

You were cut off, “Dear? Are you okay? Answer me,”

“Shinobu,” you said seriously. “I have something to confess, can we go somewhere more private?” 

Shinobu then nodded and led you to her office, “What's wrong?” she asked.

“Shinobu,” you exhaled, “I know that we've been friends for a few months but during the time that I spent with you, something happened,” you trailed off. 

“Uhm, I, I like you! You can reject me right now though because I see you teasing other people too and I just don't want to be another person that you tease,” you said really fast but Shinobu understood everything.

She took your hands and intertwined them with hers, she leaned her forehead against yours, “Honey,” you blushed when those words came out of her mouth. 

“Is flirting and teasing the same thing to you?” she looked into your eyes, you looked away. 

“Look at me,” Shinobu said firmly and you looked at her. 

“I like you too,” she stared into your eyes, “I tease people, sure but I will always and only flirt with one person,”

“And that person is you.”

—

Bonus Scene:

“Butterfly! Come on now! Don't shy away when I just confessed my love to you!” Shinobu giggled at your form which was turned away from her. 

She gently grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, “Can I kiss you?” 

You nodded and she leaned in for a sweet kiss.

Authors Note: Send me requests if you have any pls

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

The Unveiling

On the morning of New Year's Day in 1354, King Edward's 16th birthday, a meeting was convened in the throne room of Windenburg Castle. Present were the Jacoban Clergy, Lord Richard (the regent/lord protector), and King Edward himself. The courtiers had not yet arrived, and Edward, flanked by guards, sat on his throne. As the men entered together, offering birthday wishes, they were met with Edward's stern expression, unaware of the purpose behind the meeting. Edward promptly explained that he had overheard their discussions a few nights prior and, after thorough investigation, held them accountable for Queen Cordelia's disappearance.

The accusation left all the men visibly shocked and speechless, their faces turning pale with disbelief. Lord Richard, quick to respond, defended himself, "Your Grace, I assure you of my unwavering loyalty to Windenburg and its people. I was completely unaware of any nefarious intentions or actions related to Queen Cordelia's disappearance. I have always acted in the best interests of the kingdom and your family, and I would never intentionally harm or betray them. Please believe that I am a victim of circumstances beyond my control." Edward's expression remained cold and impassive as he fixed his gaze on Richard.

The King erupted in fury, rising from his seat and directing his anger towards Lord Richard. "Lord Richard," Edward proclaimed with a cold and piercing tone, "your claims of innocence fall empty in light of the truths I've uncovered. I heard your words, witnessed your deceit, and pierced through your facade. Do not insult my intelligence with false innocence. Your treachery has been exposed, and the consequences of your betrayal will be severe." The room fell silent with fear as Edward's words echoed, leaving a heavy atmosphere of impending justice.

"I have convened this gathering to make a series of announcements that will significantly impact the governance of Windenburg. Firstly, I have decided to dissolve the Regency and assume full responsibility for the throne, rather than waiting until the customary age of eighteen." His gaze shifted to Lord Richard, reflecting a mixture of disappointment and resolve. "Lord Richard, due to recent revelations and your involvement in matters that have compromised the trust and integrity of this kingdom, I must strip you of your titles and duties effective immediately. Your actions have led to grave consequences, and as such, you are no longer fit to serve in your current capacity."

His attention turned to the Clergy, declaring, "Furthermore, I have decided to decommission the entire Jacoban Clergy representing Windenburg. While I hold the utmost respect for your faith and beliefs, recent events have necessitated a restructuring of our religious institutions." Continuing with resolve, he stated, "Until the whereabouts of Cordelia, my mother, are revealed and the truth behind her disappearance brought to light, all those implicated in her absence will be confined to the dungeons beneath the castle," emphasizing that this decree applied to everyone present.

All the men sank to their knees, terrorized by the impending doom. They pleaded with the King and beseeched the watcher, but their efforts were futile. Father Heron attempted to flee the throne room, further provoking Edward's wrath. The King dispatched his guards, who swiftly apprehended him before he could escape. Stripped of their religious attire, the men were escorted to the dungeons beneath Windenburg Castle. Paul, isolated in his dim cell, seethed with anger. He lamented, "It is the Watcher's will! No woman shall ascend the throne; only a man can truly speak for the Watcher's divine purpose," his voice saturated with frustration and bitterness. His staunch belief in male authority and the age-old traditions of monarchy continued to fuel his rage, even amidst captivity.

Back at Castle Landgraab, Cordelia lay in her bed, asleep, as a servant from the Landgraab family quietly entered with a basket of bread. Cordelia awoke suddenly, catching the servant before she could leave. "Wait! Please, don't go! Who are you? Why are you here? What's happening?" Her words poured out in a flurry of questions as she desperately tried to stop the girl from leaving. However, the servant dashed out, locking the door behind her. Cordelia banged on the door, pleading, "Let me out! Please, I beg you! I need to leave this place! Help me, anyone, please!" Her voice carried fear, urgency, and a deep sense of helplessness. Collapsing to the floor, she sobbed, realizing it had been far too long since she had seen the sun.

The servant approached Lord Lorus's chambers, finding him engrossed in matters of state. "My lord, she attempted to escape again, she was banging on the door, pleading for help. I fear she may be unwell," the servant exclaimed urgently. Lorus, without even glancing up from his papers, responded callously, "Oh, how dramatic! Perhaps next time she'll bring along a troupe of minstrels to serenade her escape. Keep an eye on her, but try not to get caught up in her theatrics. She's just a pawn in this game." The servant, with sadness in her eyes, persisted, "But my lord, she seemed truly distressed. What if something happens to her while she's confined here? Shouldn't we at least ensure her safety?" Annoyed by the situation, Lorus turned abruptly to face the girl, his tone firm, "Your concern is irrelevant. Such matters are beyond your comprehension. Stick to your duties and leave the affairs of royalty to those with the intelligence to understand them." Before departing, Lorus issued a stern warning, "Tell her that any further attempts to escape will result in consequences far worse than her current captivity. Ignorance is her shield; the less she knows, the safer she'll be."

As time passed, the members of the clergy clung to their silence, denying any knowledge of Cordelia's whereabouts. Their hopes rested on the belief that maintaining this facade would prolong their lives. However, as the summer of 1354 drew near, the weight of guilt and fear began to crack their resolve.

One among them, the former Father Heron, faced excruciating torment. Bound to a stretching machine, his bones were slowly and painfully pulled out of joint. The physical agony mirrored the emotional turmoil within him. Unable to bear the torment any longer, he succumbed and confessed to knowing Cordelia's location.

Relieved of the stretching device, the fallen priest was coerced into signing a confession. This damning revelation was swiftly delivered to King Edward's office, where he was working on state affairs. His trusted advisor, Sir Walter Arnold, presented the confession and read its contents aloud to the king.

Upon hearing this, a solemn understanding settled over King Edward. The weight of responsibility and the gravity of the situation were palpable. Each word in the confession carried the weight of truth, pushing Edward to confront his own cousin, and the harsh realities of his kingdom. With resolve in his eyes, Edward knew that decisive action was now imperative.

[aj-ixsstuff]

Mafia Price

Have I ever played cod mw before? No. Will I still write for the fandom? Yes, yes I will.

You were only meant to be his daughter's nanny. But it turned out to be so much more then that.

He told you the very night you took the job that he was dangerous but you never believed him. He was so kind to you, so attentive and thoughtful. How could he ever dream of hurting anybody?

After a few weeks of working, you finally saw it. You'd just put Lily to sleep and planned on sitting down and catching up on tv before mr Price came back. However, you were interrupted by the bloodied man stood in the living room.

Once he caught sight of you, his eyes softened. Cleaning the dried blood off his hands, he stepped closer to you, cupping your face.

On impulse, you stepped back. He seemed visibly hurt by your reaction. He never wanted you to be scared of him.

Instead he held his hand out. "Come sit, Doll"

Upon taking it, he led you to the sofa. Still holding your hand, he faced you.

"I told you I was dangerous, love. There's people out there who want me dead, to hurt the people I love to make me suffer. I can't let you go home alone anymore."

You were confused. "I'm sure you could find someone else to nanny Lily if I die. She's still young after all."

He looked deep into your eyes with nothing but adoration.

"Darling, it's not just Lily. I couldn't lose you."

His confession flustered you. Turning red and shifting slightly to avoid his intense gaze.

He cupped your jaw, turning you back to face him. He was handsome, refined, intelligent. His large and built frame, soft and hypnotic eyes, shaped and pristine beard. Everything in you was screaming. Deep down you harboured feelings for him. But he was your boss, a mafia lord. You never could've imagined him feeling the same way about you.

"Doll... come back to me."

His voice knocked you out of your trance. God knows how long you were staring.

"You understand why I can't let you go home alone anymore, don't you?"

All you could do is nod dumbly. You didn't trust your voice.

"Excellent. Go upstairs, you know which ones mine. Get yourself settled."

"Where will you sleep? And what about my things?"

"We can go collect your things tomorrow." Putting his hand on your lower back, steering you towards the stairs. "Lets get you settled and I need change into something with a little less blood." Chuckling lightly.

You let yourself be led towards Prices bedroom. Still light-headed from the shocking revelations you've been told.

You enter the room, immediately inhaling the scent. Just like Price. The room was large, lived-in but still tidy.

Grabbing two sets of fresh clothing, Price hands you a shirt and a pair of boxers. His clothes. Before heading to the ensuit to change himself.

Once out of view, you bring the shirt to your nose, vanilla and sandalwood. Comforting, safe yet authoritative. You could get use to this.

Stepping out of the ensuite, you took in the large and very shirtless man. He was well groomed and sculpted in all the right places.

"Hey, Doll." Again, dragging you back to the real world with his deep and gravely voice. "Go get changed."

You stood, his bed was comfortable. "But Mr Price-"

"John. Call me John, Love. Get dressed now, questions later." He pulled you into a hug by the arms, pressing his lips to your forehead in a feather-light kiss.

As you were changing, you thought to yourself. This man is dangerous. He has an army of men under his control and he kills to satisfy his hunger for power. But that's Mr Price. John is caring, loving, attentive.

As you exit, you see him laid on the bed. He looked so relaxed, peaceful. Upon hearing you, he got up and ushered you under the covers. You went without argument, feeling exhausted after the days events.

He turned to leave but didn't get far before you called out to him.

"Stay?"

"Always."

He hopped into the bed next to you, you curled up to him, resting your cheek to his chest. You felt safe in his arms. Protected. He would make sure no harm would ever come to you. He would burn the world down to see you smile.

[violentvaleska]

𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

ғɪғᴛᴇᴇɴ ᵖᵃᵗʰˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵃ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇɢᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴀ ᴘᴀsɪsᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴛᴏɪᴄ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ʟᴇᴠɪ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴍᴇɴᴛs, sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, sᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅᴏᴍ/sᴜʙ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴛᴏɴᴇs, ᴀɴɢsᴛ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ↫ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ɴᴇxᴛ ↬

ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

ᴀ/ɴ: ɢᴜʏs, ɪ'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴍᴇ sᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ- ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏᴏ ;) ʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ: 8 ᴘᴀɢᴇs ᴏғ ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ ᴀɴᴅ sᴍᴜᴛ <3

ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ: @ajmiila02 @xiernia @sunniisyde @raginginferno267

Year 847, Liberio 

Being Eldian always came with some sort of discrimination or abuse of your genetics. You weren‘t allowed to the nicer parts of the city or were discriminated against by the officer that controlled the slums of Liberio. And being an Eldian in the military could only bring one option: death. They would use your genetics to turn you into titans, pure or intelligent ones. Now they have found a new way to abuse their power and sick fascination about your kin. Your father, Diether Fritz, is a direct descendent of King Fritz. With blood being thicker than water, you were born with the same abilities as him, his sister and your cousin Zeke. 

When your dear cousin betrayed his parents and your family, he told the government about your royal heritage, forcing your father to continue producing heirs. As a child you didn’t mind, your poor mother gave birth to your siblings and in the end it killed her. The government didn’t care and would have forced him to re-marry for their little fucked up project to work, if it wasn‘t for you to cut the line right there. Your father was a mess after your mother’s death and your siblings too young to understand the severity of the situation. You agreed to take part in one of their projects, selling yourself off so you could save your family from poverty. 

The project included to transfer your mind into the paths and order your creator, Ymir Fritz, to lend you a part of her power: foresight. You would use it for warships and predict Marley's outcome in conflicts, allowing them to manipulate the future with it. They told you they would honor you and your family, yet you know that you would end up like your mother someday. That’s all you are good for in the end. 

The procedure takes place in a medical laboratory, a stoney building connected to the main hospital of Liberio. Your heart raises as you follow after your cousin and another soldier, the corridors of the building offer no way to run, as they are not particularly spacious. The light in the room you are led into is dimmed down and there is only a single table placed in the middle of it, one that is usually used for surgeries. Your boyfriend and potential husband, Leon Klein, is actually studying in this facility. While he would never reach popularity with his science as an eldian-born, you still have fond memories of the day he was accepted to the hospital. Now you fear his studies will be the end of your life. 

“It's honorable of you to offer Marley your body.” Zeke, your cousin, speaks, placing a hand on your shoulder as he smiles. You swallow, glaring at the table with fear. You are disgusted by the way Zeke has changed from an innocent boy to a narcissistic asshole. 

“You know I'm only doing this so my family won't end up like your parents.” You spit with hatred, pulling away from the blonde's ugly grip. He looks a lot like his mother, your auntie Dina. You always adored her, she was kind to you and a good sister to your father, who looks much like her. You have taken similarity to your mother in looks, shape and height.

Dina and her husband Grisha were part of an illegal Eldian organization that plotted after Marley. To this day you are not sure what had exactly happened to them, but you sure as hell know it was Zeke's fault. As a child you enjoyed his company, now you despise it. You haven‘t been in contact with him for a while, but he sure has changed since the last time you saw him. He no longer is that weak warrior boy that had no chance in surviving on the battlefield. He owns the beast titan now and holds a high position in the military.

“I'm well aware. Though it still benefits Marley, don’t you think? Who knows? Maybe it might benefit you too.” He tries to encourage you, but you only roll your eyes at him and follow the other soldier into the room. You don't even wish him goodbye. How could this benefit you? Seeing the future sure could be useful, but what if you only see the horrors it holds?

The next hour is filled with doctors and scientists leaving and entering said room, while they examine you. Leon is not one of them. After having to remove your clothes and feeling humiliated to be stared at by all those perverted old men, you are able to redress in your original clothes; a simple blouse and a brown skirt. The gynecological checkup was the worst of them all and you know that they only did it, to check if you are fertile enough to give them more children of royal Eldian blood one day.   

“We will be able to offer you access to the paths through an extract of your cousin's titan spinal fluid. We have tested it with many probands before, you won't turn into a titan.” A scientist explains to you, as you lay down on the uncomfortable table, your hands folded on your stomach as you watch the sealing. 

“In the paths you can call out for Ymir, the devil that has created your breed. Demand of her to give you the gift of foresight.” 

Your face shifts as you look at him estranged; a frown has taken over expression at the same time. 

“Oh sure, led me just demand something of the founding titan herself.” You snap at the man sarcastically, feeling that his request is ridiculous and not possible to fulfill. 

“You are a silly gal, Miss Fritz. If she was able to give the titans and the Ackerman’s their powers on demand, why would she gatekeep them from you? You are of royal blood and will possess parts of titan spinal fluid in you in a few minutes. She can't deny you a simple demand.” The scientist must be a crazy, old man, you decide and simply close your eyes to prepare yourself for the injection. If this won't work, you'd probably end up dead or as a titan. You hope for the later one, as you would use it to kill all of them off as a form of revenge. 

The injection itself stinks a little, but otherwise doesn't hurt you. The liquid spreading inside your bloodstream on the other makes you feel hot and cold at the same time, while an excruciating headache blinds your senses. Your vision blackens, as you scream out from the pain, but the moment it takes over your head it is already gone, and you open your eyes only to be faced with a beautiful night sky. 

You are no longer lying on metal, instead your body is placed into the finest sand you have ever felt. It is warm and feels comfortable on your exposed legs. You sit up and look at the wide fields of eternity that are forming what is called the paths. A realm unknown to mankind that connects all the subjects of Ymir. Awe struck by its beauty you take in the sight of the paths and watch the star filled sky with admiration.

“It worked.” You whisper, as you look straight ahead and take a moment to observe the numerous stars and northern lights that offer the dark sky above you a dreamily pattern. 

“Beautiful.” You whisper and stand up, feeling the sand fall from your back and hair onto the ground. The moment you turn into a different direction, you notice two things: light shaped into the form of a tree and a girl standing not too far away from you. Her skin is pale, her eyes empty and her hair blonde. She wears a white tunic that must have been worn by the humans 2.000 years ago. This girl must be Ymir, you just know from looking at her. 

“Are you my creator? Are you Ymir?” You softly ask into her direction, but she doesn't answer, only looks at you with silence. You decide to walk closer to her, wondering if she might not have heard you. 

“I'm sorry to ask this from you, but I need you to gift me the power of foresight. Help me save my family, please.” You plead, stepping closer to her as you kneel in front of the girl. You assume she's a mute, as she doesn't make any attempt to answer you. The both of you don't dare to move and you only look into the empty stare of her sad face. Concerned, you are about to ask if she is alright, but you notice the way she slowly and carefully stretches her small hand out towards you and you decide to keep your mouth shut, not feeling like overstepping her boundaries. A flash of yellow light makes you unable to see for a moment, as you feel her finger touching your forehead. 

The next thing you feel is electricity running through your whole body, tingling your insides in an uncomfortable way. You open your mouth in shock and try to pull away from her, but something keeps you at the spot, luring you even closer to her as pain shots through your head. The yellow light gets more and more blinding as you close your eyes and scream out from the sudden, intense headache that seems to consume every nerve of your body. But the moment it all hits you it’s gone. And with that your memories as well. 

As you open your eyes again, a wave of confusion consumes you. “Where am I?” You ask, looking around at the men dressed in white coats standing around you. Panic settles in your chest and gut, as you notice that you are cuffed against a table. What happened?

“Miss you are back at the hospital, remember? Have you met your creator?” A man speaks to you, a stressed expression on his old face as he exchanges looks with his colleagues. “My creator? Who are you? Let me go!” You start pulling on the leather cuffs aggressively, stressed by the fact that these people keep you strained down and Angst about the thought that your head seems to be empty of any memories. Long story short they had to sedate you and when you wake up again you are outside of the walls, hungry and not able to recall any event of your life. 

Year 851, coast region of Paradis

It has been a while since you haven woken up from your coma. A lot happened during that time, first and foremost you regained your memories of your past while Eren unlocked those of his father. The two of you were able to connect as you seem to share a family with his father and half-brother Zeke. Armin survived, much to your surprise, gained the power of the colossal titan in the process. Its proof that your visions can change. Wall Maria has been cleared of most titans and humans now repopulating the territory. There is also more food to eat now that animals and plants have space to grow again. Another thing you were surprised to learn about was your promotion to a Lieutenant, you certainly jumped a few ranks there, but Levi forced the idea on Queen Historia and Commander Hange none the less, as it was the “least they could do after letting you down”. His words, not yours. 

A week ago, squad Levi and Commander Hange have started the expedition to the ocean, following Eren’s lead as he knew the direction from his father's memories. You weren't as useful as you hoped, as you were unconscious when they threw you off the wall. Apparently, they tried to turn you into a titan, but as it turns out you are incapable of doing so, since Ymir's gift has messed with your genes a little too much. You are similar to the Ackerman clan and after realizing that, they just hoped a titan would rip you into shreds and leave, but the titans never hurt you, no, it seems like they have protected you and brought you closer to the walls. A scary thought, yet it's the only plausible one, since your royal blood and gift of Ymir seem to work as a protection for yourself. 

Just a few days after you found the ocean, the first thirty-two scout ships of Marley arrived at the coast. It was the first vision you had after waking up from your coma and you were happy to learn that your abilities have returned to you. To your luck there was an anti-marley movement on the first ship, helping you to overpower the warriors sent by Marley. Their leader, Yelena, a relatively tall woman with short blonde hair and her second in command, Onyankopon, have started discussing plans with the Captain and Commander, making sure to arrange potential alliances. While Commander Hange, Connie and Jean rode back to inform the rest of the military, you and the rest of your squad, including Levi, stayed to watch the troops of Marley. 

You and Levi take the time to have some privacy, while Eren, Armin and Mikasa have an eye on the warriors. The Captain has asked you to walk with him and ever the obeying soldier you are you followed him. Your way has led the two of you to the coastline, where you are currently taking a break to watch the sunset and beautiful waves. You spread out your green capes on the sandy and slightly grassy underground, so Levi wouldn't get his uniform all dirty. 

“At least sand won't leave stains.” He comments, brushing off the small corns off the cape with an irritated look. You just grin at his reaction, leaning back on to your elbows, while you hold your upper body up to enjoy the slowly fading rays of sun. 

“Don't laugh at me.” Levi demands with a roll of his eyes, carefully letting his gaze wander over your face and body. It makes your smile instantly drop, as you feel threatened by humanity's strongest. 

“Why are we here Captain?” You ask in a serious tone, still wondering why he led you all this way to this quite place. It's far away from the others and you are only able to see the ships of Marley in the distance. You haven't even realized how far away he has led you, as he demanded of you to tell him stories of your past. 

“You and I haven't had much time to talk about what happened before we left for Shiganshina.” He admits, his moody facial expression turning into a flustered one. There are a handful of incidents that have led you to your current situation and relationship, uncertainty playing a major part in both. 

“That's true.” Is the only thing you can say, a nervous flush covering your cheeks as you think back about the last time you were alone with him. It was the night before the Survey Corps has lost the majority of its people in Maria. You remember vaguely how you and the squad leaders got drunk in a lovely bar you used to go to. And you remember vividly the way Levi has pleasured you with his rough nature. 

“There was a time where I promised myself to not regret the decisions I choose to make. And for a good amount of time, it worked out well for me.” He starts to explain, his stare trailing off into the distance as he appears to be deep in thought. 

“Yet I find myself regretting things I have said to you.” The words cut deep, and you gulp at him, giving him room to speak his mind freely as you are only able to stare at him. 

“I feel so fucked up for feeling aroused when you are vulnerable.” He admits, pain reflecting the inner conflict in his cold eyes. 

“But you would never force yourself onto me or seriously hurt me.” You state confidently, taking his hand into yours as you try to offer him support, trying to calm his inner torment. His expression sours at the thought and he shakes his head. 

“No. Never have I even considered to do something as vile as that.” You smile at his words, squeezing his hand a little tighter to catch his attention, his gaze landing on your face as he turns to look at you. 

“See. You are a good man, Levi. You care for those close to you. I don't mind if you like it your way occasionally.” Trying to reassure him isn't easy, Levi is stubborn headed, and you won't be able to change his mind with only a few words. 

“The night before we left for Maria you mentioned something that has been in my mind for a while.” You say in a quiet manner, not once letting go from his hand, a simple gesture the two of you haven't shared yet. Still Levi finds comfort in it, intertwining your fingers with each other.

“Yeah, what was it?” He asks, glad that you engage with his concerns. Your relationship might have been full of hatred and disrespect for each other, but the two of you came a long way and after everything that has happened Levi feels happy to have you in his life. 

“You indicated something that included me being yours.” You pause, trying to read the expression on his face because you don't want to trigger a sensitive spot. 

“I guess I did.” Levi simply shrugs it off, giving his attention back to a few stronger waves that hit the shore. 

“Well, I was wondering what it might include to be yours.” There: you did it, you asked a question that had been nagging on you none stop since you awoke from your coma. Your interactions with Levi have been limited to your mere roles as leader and subordinate, yet you couldn't help but exchange fleeting stares and touches.

Levi blinks at you once, then twice, before he clears his throat. You notice his ears to take on a slightly red blush, as he tries to compose himself. 

“I don't know to be honest.” He answers with pure honesty, scratching the back of his head as he awkwardly exchanges a look with you. 

“While I did have my fair share of, well, romantical exchanges, I never had the opportunity to call one of those women mine.” Levi admits, leaning back onto the coat as he thinks back to his old days. You nod your head, wondering how many women he has laid with in the past. Not that you would care, but it still interests you. 

“I had a boyfriend before all of this happened.” You confess, nervously playing with a lock of your hair as you remember the young man. At that Levi noticeably stiffens, his hand tightening around yours. 

“His name was Leon. I never officially ended things with him.” You notice, wondering if he still thinks about you after all those years. It must have been devastating for him, knowing the same organization that he studies for has deposit of you after a failed experiment. 

“Are you trying to tell me that I flirted with a taken woman?” Levi halfheartedly jokes, frowning at you with clear mixed feelings. 

“Does it really matter? Sure, I loved him, but after I witnessed what Marley did, what my people did to you, I don't feel like going back to that old life.” You admit, smiling at Levi with comfort as you move closer to him, turning your body so you could face him better. 

“That night back in Trost you promised me something, remember?” Your suggestive comment catches him off guard, making Levi look at you wide eyed with surprise. 

“I did.” He agrees, warily about the way you grin at him, excitement twinkling in your starstruck eyes. 

“Don't you want to keep your promise?” You tease, cheeks red as your thoughts dance circles around the possible outcome of this. You are alone with your Captain who has awakened something deep inside of you. Something you haven't known existed or felt before. It's like a field of flowers blooming up inside of you, attracting bees to drink from your nectar. You want Levi and you will gladly take him with all his imperfections. 

Levi stares at you, a wild storm of emotions overtake his usual neutral expression. 

“Faye.” He speaks, voice toned down as he looks around, making sure that nobody has followed you out here. 

“You can't possibly ask me to take you right here.” He deadpans with a roll of his eyes, making you giggle at the way he shies away from the mere thought of it. 

“Come on Captain. Wouldn't that be lovely? We finally achieved what we've been fighting for. Celebrating it would only be-” you lean in, getting close to his ear as you take a breath at the way his hair and skin smell like sea. 

“-natural.” At your action a cut off sound escapes him, something that awfully comes close to a whimper. 

“You are playing a dangerous game.” Levi warns, turning his head to face you directly. Your lips are close to touch, while his fingers break the contact from your hand, it's dips wandering over your bare underarm. 

You wear a short-sleeved blouse and your standard white uniform pants, this time without your gear. Shuddering under his touch, you close your eyes in anticipation and let his hand wander over your arm up to your shoulders until he places it in the nape of your neck, applying a firm pressure on it to guide you forward. 

“Tch. Aren't you a desperate little minx?” The deep groan he leaves as you yourself start to take action and start touching his covered chest, leaves you with a warm feeling in your gut. As your lips finally meet, you instantly fall into a hungry pattern, your teeth clashing together while your tongues battle for control. 

A hot shower washes over your body, while Levi's hands grip and grope at you, harshly taking you down with him. His hands pull at your blouse, accidentally ripping a bottom from its string, but you could care less at the moment. Levi's breath quickens and turns heavier when your middle rolls up against his pelvis in anticipation, seeking stimulation to feet that intense longing. 

“Mhm. Fuck.” He groans as your lips part and your eyes open. Both of your faces are flushed, and your lips share the same bloodshot color, while his bare hands feel hot against your own warm skin. 

Levi helps you get rid of the fabric against your upper body and pulls the pants from your legs, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments. It's a simple bralette in an off-white color with matching panties, nothing special, but it seems to irk Levi on. He obsesses over clean fabrics and seeing you writhing underneath him in a fresh pair of cotton underwear does things to him. It reassures him in his description to have chosen you: a clean and organized young woman.

After he took a minute to just look you up and down, he takes his time to open the bottoms on his dress shirt as well, teasing you in the process as he's going way too slow at it for your taste. 

A whine escapes your lips at the way he rolls against you while he gets rid of his shirt, revealing his bare chest for you to gawk at. There are a few old scars littered across his chest, indicating a past of pain, but he doesn't give you any more time to look at his perfectly sculptured breast. His fingers grab for your chin, lifting it up so you would be forced to look into his eyes. His usual cold eyes gleam with a fire you haven't seen before, a passion unlike anything you have ever visited. Levi leans down, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites down your neck and chest area. He pulls the breast coverage from your upper body, exposing your stiffened skin for him to see and gawk at.

You feel overwhelmed by his body so close to yours, his lips all over yourself and his hands touching you greedily. 

“Please-” You bring out while there is a burning desire pooling up between your legs.

“What was that? What are you pleading for?” He asks, playing confused with a cocky little smile on his lips. Skillfully his fingers wander over your abdomen, a surprising slow and loving action, making a mewl leave your lips, your eyes closing. But as quick as the sweet touch came it was gone again. You pry your lids open just the moment he lets his flat hand slap between your spread legs, a painful feeling spreading over the sensitive area as your eyes widen in shock. 

“Ouch, what the hell.” You blur out, dizzy with the new sensation that makes you want to squeeze your tights together. 

“Go on, plead with me to devour you.” You gasp as he pulls your panties from your legs, leaving you lying naked and bare underneath him. Your hair is spread out on the green cloak, while your skin is flushed and hot, your chest heaving as you moan. This time his flat hand lands on the side of your hip, daring another yelp from your lips. 

“Beg me to fuck you.” Levi demands, voice deep with wanton for you. There is a noticeable bulge in his pants, a stiff tent that his calling for attention. You mean to touch him, but his hand pins down your wrist onto the sand, a small but confident smirk spreading over his lips. 

“Beg.” He repeats, enthralled by the idea of you begging him to ruin you. 

And you comply, following his every word as you start entreating him to keep going. He does so gladly, overwhelming you with his digits as they softly brush over your middle. You wiggle underneath him, as his one hand is still pinning you down, not giving you the chance to touch him yourself 

“Levi.’” You plead, eyes closed, and lips parted. A desperate, shameful whine escapes them, as not one, but two of his fingers enter you, easily gliding in as you are already wet and ready from anticipation. 

“Hm, fuck.” He groans, swiftly pulling out again only to leave you empty and waiting.

“You don't even need preparation.” He notes in a husky tone, staring down at you while he quickly rips over the buttons of his pants and pulls down his briefs. 

What Levi lacks in height he clearly makes up with a good and girthy length, that slaps proudly against his lower abdomen. Its dip is red and a pearl of white adores its top. You are not able to stare at him further, as he leans over you, blocking your sight with his face, a longing expression in his eyes. 

“Like what you see?” Levi wonders and teasingly presses his length between your legs, his dip harshly meeting your clitoris. The hot feeling overcoming you leaves you stunt and unable to reply, but Levi doesn't need an answer.

He enters you with a swift and surprising motion, making your eyes tear up and moan in pain. While he was slow and sensual with his touches in the beginning, he certainly has no intention of holding back now. Levi's left hand still holds you down, while his legs keep your hips from moving. He fills you up to the rim, leaving a burning sensation in your around the walls that clench to him. But soon you find the pain numbing and your muscles relaxing, relieve filling your chest as you start enjoying the way he fills you out. 

“C-can I keep going-?” Levi asks, clearly restraining himself from moving, as it might have left damage inside of you. 

“Yes please.” You whimper, your legs spreading a little wider, welcoming him to go deeper. 

Levi takes your consent for granted and joyfully starts to move his hips, going down on you with sick adoration in his lust struck gaze. The feeling to you is unusual and raw, but the way he hits a certain spot all over again makes you feel weak, and you can't help the breathy sounds escaping your mouth, matching Levi's ones. He rails you down with ease, his muscles flexing as his grip against your wrists tighten and leave red marks against the skin. His lips suck on your clavicle and wander down your sternum only to meet your left breast. Deep sounds escape his throat as his movements turn harsher and less controlled, while his mouth catches your nipple. His tongue turns and twirls, stimulating the sensitive pink skin. 

“Levi!” You cry out, eyelids fluttering at the new wave of passion that runs over your body the way he makes you feel. He's rough, unhinged even, like he promised, like he threatened. You can't seem to mind; in fact, you desire to feel more of what he's offering, and you know that he can offer more. “This-” you think “this might as well be soft for him.” 

After taking a couple more of his thrusts your orgasms hits you unexpected, a wave of intense ecstasy running over your body as you feel the welcoming tingle in your lower abdomen. Levi seems to feel it too, a throaty and primitive sound comes from his bloodshot lips as he takes the strength to push into you one last time. He stills over you, letting go of your numb hands only to grab your shoulder harshly. He is quick to pull out of you, cuming the moment he pulls out, making you feel empty and sore. 

The sun is already halfway past the horizon, coloring the sky and sea in orange and pinks, it's light reflecting on your glistening skin. Both you and Levi are dripping in sweat, the sea breeze feels cold against you skin as a goosebump forms on your arms and legs. You take the calm moment to come down from your high, giving your Captain time to catch his breath. His muscles are tense and his chest heaves rapidly, but he catches himself quickly, rolling from you to lie down on the gape as well, adjusting his pants the past he can with slightly shaky hands. 

For a moment none of you dares to speak and just when you think it's getting awkward, he turns his head to you, a serious expression taking over his resting cool face. 

“Next time we do it in my quarters. It's fucking filthy here.” You can't help but to laugh and cuddle yourself to his side, touching his bare chest lightly. 

“Of course, Captain, I'll even put on a cute little maid dress for you.” You tease, giggling as he ruffles your hair with a shake of his head. 

You stay like that for a while, laying in his embrace with a happy smile on your lips, your fingers dancing circles over your lover's chest in an affectionate way, while the sky darkens, and the stars start to shine. Levi can't help trying to imagine a world like this: peace and harmony, a world with you in it. But little did he know that he was far away from this perfect world.

[chickenparm]

Reformatting (Scara/f!Reader) pt. 1

this was written for @onesaltygoddess. thanks for coming to me with this dope idea! :^) this fic is based off the recent fan animations that you can watch here and some cyberpunk 2077 mixed in to flesh it out. this fic is finished, and the following chapters will be uploaded over the next few days.

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AO3 Link Next Part

Scaramouche/f!Reader - Cyberpunk AU 2,753 Words - SFW, future NSFW (Reader is a synthetic/android, NSFW tags will be on appropriate chapter)

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“She’ll be useful. Her leashing chip has been removed and she’s not bound to her former overseer. As it stands, she has the capability to become completely autonomous.” 

A sound of annoyance behind his teeth rings through the ship as Scaramouche stares out at the passing buildings shimmering through the cloaking field surrounding them. “There’s no telling what shape she’s in, not to mention whatever temperament she adopted from being with her last overseer. It’s not possible to know if she will have any use at all… beyond her base programming.”

“Don’t be crude,“ Ei’s voice is stern as she tilts the steering stick and the ship dips to the left, lowering as it goes. “She’s been through enough. Don’t make it more difficult by forcing her into that box when she’s only just escaped.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Scaramouche blows a sigh through his nose, eyes darting upward in a quick roll as he looks at the electronic ticker running along the inner brim of his hat, “I’ll bring the systems down just before we come into range. We’ll have less than ten.”

“Minutes?”

“No, seconds. Of course it’s minutes.”

From the corner of his eye, Scaramouche can see Ei’s expression in the reflection of the windscreen. Her mouth is set in a line, brows furrowed, but she says nothing at all. Disappointment flickers in his chest - how boring. 

The lights of the city grow a little less crisp, the neon and LEDs gaining a sort of flicker that comes with age. Mixed between are ancient street lamps still using sodium-vapor, casting the wet streets in a sort of sickly yellow glow. They’re getting closer, and Ei doesn’t need to tell him to get to work. 

The screens on his hat flicker to life, and he glances from one to another to another, a flick of his wrist spinning to the ones just out of his view. Under his breath he murmurs, “Security systems are poor for a government facility. Still holding at ten minutes, might be able to hold them off a little longer.”

“We’re almost in range of their sensors.” It goes without saying that those sensors need to come down if they hope to get in and out undetected. Ei lowers the craft, Scaramouche’s eyes glimmer for just a moment as he connects remotely with the subsystems controlling the facility. 

Typical deconstruction protocols are happening within the primitive artificial intelligence systems. They’re in the middle of pulling apart and scrapping a set of L-13 models, and for a moment he wonders if they’re the ones from their previous trip to the city in search of their last runaway, Albedo. Trying to look through the cameras onto the disassembly line would be a waste of time, and Scaramouche’s curiosity goes unsated. 

Instead, he flicks through the directory to the cameras observing the standby rooms. Little more than closets stacked high with spare parts, scrapped metal, bundled wiring. One consists of thousands of servos and transistors in piles that look disorganized and useless. Another room is enough to make his stomach turn, and he flicks away. Metal or not, the picked-clean skeletons of his people are still gruesome to his eyes. 

At first, he thinks he’s simply found a room of L-13 models waiting for their turn on the disassembly line. But then, in the corner, a crumpled figure in the same state of undress as the powered-down L-13s around it. The build and features aren’t the same, even in the dark, and Scaramouche speaks aloud, “Got her. Not sure of the room number, they don’t have it labeled on their map. I’ll have to walk you through, Raiden.”

Another figure at the back of the craft moves forward, her hand clutched around a closed parasol. The tip of it drags on the floor behind her, the quiet sound of metal on metal. “Is ten minutes going to be enough?”

“For you? Yeah. Just don’t drag your feet.” Scaramouche doesn’t disconnect from the cameras, instead letting his physical gaze be taken over by his delve into the facility’s systems. A dangerous game to be playing if he were in public, but tucked safely into this ship and buckled in one of the seats, he’s willing to lose himself, just for a moment. 

A quick-looping script is all it takes for him to break through the ICE and overload the already-strained CPUs running the facility. Their artificial intelligence draws too much on the hardware they’re using - amateurs. As he silently mocks their skill, the sensors go down and the ship approaches without tripping the alarms. 

Distantly through the humming in his ears from his own hardware working as it should, Scaramouche hears the hatch open and Raiden’s footsteps move in quick bursts. Good - she’ll be fast. 

To mask her movements, it’s a simple trick to take a few seconds’ long loop of the camera recordings and superimpose them. Raiden’s movements will be invisible unless somewhere in this factory there’s an organic being. Unlikely, but his tone is short and clipped as he gives her directions using the map he’d gleaned. 

“Go around the next bend to the left.”

“Down the stairs two levels, the door is labeled 006.”

“Cut through the room on your right, the door in the back leads to a hallway you’re going to turn right onto.”

“Three doors down, on the left. Back left corner. Don’t alert the L-13s.”

Scaramouche’s curiosity gets the best of him. He looks in on the room, watches the effortless weave of Raiden through the powered-off synthetics. As Raiden squats down near the figure in the corner, their target doesn’t even move. It’s difficult to read her system processes through so many filters of security and cameras, but then her head rolls to the side and she looks up at Raiden with an expression of confusion and pain.

Pain. Physically she’s a bit battered, but not enough to warrant something more akin to heartbreak on her features. Perhaps the abandonment has affected her more than he expected - her disposal had been sudden, after all. From what he’d heard from Ei, she’d been replaced for a newer model. A synthetic that had features more aligned with current beauty standards floating around the net. 

Scaramouche isn’t stupid. As Raiden hooks an arm over her shoulder and begins following the path back out with the same exact steps she arrived with, Scaramouche would categorize her features as pretty. Easy on the eyes, with a build that matches what he expected from a synthetic made with an E-droid’s purpose in mind. 

One step above a pleasure bot, he blows a bit of air through his nose harshly. Flexible and durable probably, but with little else to offer beyond that. There’s no telling what her temperament is, how she’s been tampered with beyond herr initial specs upon creation. Hell, he’s not sure if she even has anything left in her memory bank, or if she’s been wiped clean upon disposal. 

Scaramouche murmurs, voicing that quiet thought, “You think there’s anything left in her?”

“It’s possible. If she’s been wiped, it’s probably recoverable.”

Ei’s answer makes his shoulders tense, and he looks at her out of the corner of his eye, already knowing exactly what she’s implying. Chewing on his cheek, he contemplates an answer before giving it, “If she was sent for scrap, it was probably a hack job. What kind of idiot would try and steal a synthetic like that, anyway?”

“Me. And that’s exactly why you’re going to run an analysis on her while we return to Inazuma and figure out if there’s anything left in her that can be pieced back together.”

 Scaramouche disconnects from the cameras completely as Raiden’s feet hit the boarding ramp, followed by softer, quieter steps. Five minutes left of cover - Ei doesn’t waste a second of it by taking her time. The ship shifts with the sudden acceleration, and Raiden holds their newcomer up with ease as everyone gets used to the new speed. 

One look at her face tells Scaramouche everything he needs to know. Her eyes are unfocused, staring blankly at the floor as Raiden settles her in one of the seats and buckles her in. Pushing past her built-in ICE is as easy as popping a bubble, the iridescence snapping into non-existence. 

Scaramouche connects with you.

And Ei was right. One cursory sift through your systems reveals that you’re worse than factory settings. But if they did as poorly as he expects, it would take some work to get everything back in order. Perhaps with some gaps here and there from data corruption, but otherwise it’ll be like you were never wiped at all. 

When he relays this to Ei, she nods in acknowledgment and says, “It can wait until we’re somewhere safe. How long do you think it will take?”

“Depends how fragmented it all is. If it’s well-preserved… Maybe a day? If I have to look at the raw data to piece things back together then it could be a week or so. Won’t know until I start.”

Ei doesn’t need to say anything further. Scaramouche starts your repairs the moment you’re settled in the cradle-like pod that serves as a life support system as he breaks down and repairs everything that once made you who you are. 

---

You’re falling. 

Tumbling through the air freely, only the whisper of air against your ears. Weightlessness is an apt descriptor, because even if it’s freeing, you’re not free, even up here. The bands of silk could just as easily be the bars of a cage, shackles around your legs as you flex your limbs and catch yourself just short of the floor. 

Just as well, they’re deceptively soft for something so binding, and you relish the feel of it against your skin and you deftly climb and descend in little spins and twirls, flourishes of your limbs that accentuate the lines of your form. He appreciates the extra show, loves the way it makes his friends exclaim in equal parts awe and desire. 

If it weren’t for the music playing to guide your routine, you’d have turned your sound receptors off long ago. 

But at the very least, you can focus on your counting, your breaths, the rhythm that acts as a scaffolding to keep you aloft and out of their reach. Only for a moment. 

…

Your fingers press at the keys, playing a soft melody that you’ve ensured won’t distract your… employer from his work. In truth, he’s nothing more than your master, the one holding your deceptively short leash. 

Calling me Master makes you seem like a slave, he told you once, as if he hadn’t just been leering at you spinning on the pole in the corner of his office. I pay you, and you provide a service.

The payment is your continued life. He hadn’t said it, but you both know it. The chip in your head was crudely inserted in the slot behind your ear, but if you even think of removing it, it’ll scramble your mind faster than you can shut down your systems. The “wage” you receive is the breaths you continue to take, the continued existence of yourself. 

Employer - right. 

“Enough.”

His voice rings out and you stop playing abruptly, your eyes upturning to look at him in quiet expectancy. There’s something unreadable on his face as he looks at the screen of his computer, and for a moment you wonder if he was talking to you at all. Your skin prickles, just before he finally says, “Leave. I’ll summon you back if I need a distraction.”

A distraction. An employee. A toy, a plaything, a pretty ornament that he brings out only when it suits him. It doesn’t matter what aspirations or goals you might have, what you might be doing in the interim. So long as you come slinking back when he tugs on your chains, it matters little what happens to you otherwise. 

…

“How much you want for her? I know a guy that can augment synths, change their base model to be a little more… you know. Surely you want something newer?”

“I’m not done with this one, yet.”

Yet, he says, and that one word brings you hope and dread as you dip and turn, the fan in your hands fluttering with the movement as you snap it open, then closed. The fabric of your kimono slides across the floor in a whisper, hiding the sound of your steps as you follow movement ingrained in your mind. 

It’s second nature, something you hardly need to think about as you spin both fans on your fingers before tossing them up, then catching them with a subdued flourish. A hum of appreciation from one of your employer’s friends is the only praise you get for something so impressive. 

He’s an older gentleman, one who had never yet toed the line of disrespect with you, despite your clear difference in status. Of course, he is not a good man, but his gaze on you is one of appreciation for the arts, rather than what might be beneath the opulent layers of your kimono. Briefly, you wonder what your life might have been like if you had been obtained by someone like him. 

Someone who would be more appreciative. Perhaps he might treat you better, let you leave the residence occasionally, let you have friends. Can a synthetic even have friends? You’re not quite sure. There’s a cleaning maid that comes around, but her programming makes it so that her only focus is that. Not once has she acknowledged your greetings. 

All you have is your employer, sitting at the low table and drinking sake, indulging in what he calls a cultural night based on the destroyed customs of Inazuma. 

You want to laugh, but your lipstick would crack.

…

“E-10, meet E-11.”

Your hands fold in front of you as you nod at the new arrival, taking in the sight of her clothing, her position mirrored to yours. At the base level, she’s similar to you - an E model bot is one designated for entertainment of various sorts. Version 10 is for the arts - dancing, singing, playing instruments. You’d heard of the 11th version’s capabilities, and something in your stomach twists at the recognition of this new model. Similar to yours, with… additions of the physical sort. Programs that prevent her from resistance, that force her into willing submission. 

And you hate it. You don’t hate her, you hate what she’s forced to become. Every synthetic has the capability to be more than their original parameters, but the life that’s now laid out before her is one shackled to the demands of your employer. Her employer. 

“E-10, you will show E-11 to her room across from yours.”

Obediently she follows you, as you obediently follow your order. Only when you’re alone, with the metal door shut behind you and her new bedroom spread out at your back, do you turn and grab her by the shoulders. “Did he chip you?”

“Wha-”

“Did he chip you? Yes or no!?”

“H-he inserted something in my receiver slot.”

Your hands grip her shoulders tighter and you all but sag. Her cage has already been locked. With a sniff, you lift your head to look at her and say, “I’m sorry.”

“Can’t I just remove it?” She asks, one hand lifting, but yours snatches up her wrist and keeps her immobile. It’s painful to lay out exactly what he’s done to her, what she’s now going to be subjected to. Her eyes grow wider as you explain what the chip does, why he’s done it. And only when her arms wrap around you in a hug do the tears really fall from your cheeks. 

A hug. You’ve never had one of these before, and perhaps she hasn’t either with how her hands aren’t sure where exactly to go. And yet you figure it out, leaning on each other in the silence of the room. Your mouth opens to say something - maybe an apology or something to comfort - but you’re cut off with a sharp sound of electricity. 

Like a socket short-circuiting, arcing across metal, and you wonder if it’s something wrong with her. 

But then your knees give out, your vision starts to flicker with the shut down of your systems against your will, and E-11 cries out as your knees hit the floor and you go limp in her arms.