#a deed without a name

[recreationaldivorce]

realising that i technically have 3 completely different legally recognised birth names lol

[nightmaretour]

I voted in the UK election because it's better than nothing but I also recognise that the first past the post system meant that my vote was 100% worthless no matter what I chose, and that's why it doesn't fucking work

[darkbluekies]

Stupid people

Yandere!mafia!oc x reader

Summary: a number sends Silas a picture of darling that sends him into rage

Warnings: murder, mentions of NSFW, Silas lashes out towards darling, guilt, slight indication of a character asking if it was consensual (it was — the deed, not the pictures), pictures taken without permission, punching and kicking between legs

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: to clarify, the photos are taken AFTER the deed, not during!

There's only two people Silas likes enough to let them be in his office for more than asking a question — you and SIC.

“Stupid people are my favorite kind of people”, SIC says from the couch, eyes glued onto his phone. “Some idiot here tried to jump from a roof.”

“If only our enemies did that so that i didn't have to go kill them”, Silas smirks.

“Since when were we that lucky?”

A notification on his own phone caught his attention. Silas picks it up and unlocks it, seeing that the notification is from an unsaved number. He clenches his jaw. Photos. It takes a second for him to realize what — who — is in these two photos. He can recognise that back among millions. He sees that back every night, always holding it close to his chest.

“Motherfucker!” he shouts and rises from his chair in a swift.

“What?” SIC asks quickly, looking up from his screen.

Silas slams his phone down on the floor. It shatters and explodes in every direction. SIC jumps up from the couch.

“Woah, what’s going on?” he asks quickly. 

Silas can't reply. His heart is hammering in his throat. If he tries to speak, it'll jump out. His entire body is shaking. He's been mad before, but nothing compares to what he feels when you are involved.

“Silas?” SIC asks. “Sit down.”

He presses Silas down in the chair again.

“What happened?” he asks. “Give me a real fucking answer this time.”

“Some disgusting little bitch sent me photos of Y/N”,  he spits out, growing angrier by every word. “Naked, in a bed. I think you can figure out the rest yourself.”

SIC blinks. “Shit. Who?”

Silas gestures manically towards the broken phone. “I didn't write the number down before I fucking smashed it!”

“Alright. I'll take out the sim card and put it in my phone. I can find out.”

“Don't look at the photos, got that? I'm not joking. I will beat you up if I find out that you've looked at the photos.”

“Don't worry, boss, I won't.”

Silas sighs in frustration. He storms out of his office, up the stairs and throws up the door to your shared bedroom. You're nowhere to be found.

“Y/N!” he shouts angrily.

You come out of the bathroom, looking bewildered. A fear grows on your face when you realize how mad he is.

“What's wrong?” you ask quickly.

“Who the fuck have taken pics of you while having sex?!” he shouts. “Who is the low creature that has pictures of you?!”

Your eyes widen.

“What?” you ask. “Silas-”

He moves closer and you can't describe his demeanor in any other way than threatening. You stumble backwards, finally reaching the wall. Even when he's mad, he'd never do things to make you scared of him, never show you the side he shows his men and enemies. But this time, he doesn't seem to care about holding back. You get to see what everyone else sees.

“Whoever the little fucker is, I will shove that camera of his so far up his ass it'll puncture a lung, do you understand that?” Silas spits, face mere centimeters from your face. 

“Silas, I-”, you stutter.

Silas grabs the perfume standing on the shelf beside you and sends it flying across The room, breaking against the wall. You watch on in complete horror. Not even in the basement is he this violent, not around you.

Behind him, you see SIC run into the room, stopping in the doorway. He watches on with wide eyes.

“Who is it?” he spits before raising his voice. “Give me the name of the worthless little creature! I'll kill him!”

“Silas, I don't know!” you shout loudly in order to be heard over his own shouting. Tears blurry your vision as silence fills the room. “I d-don't know, I swear! I have no knowledge of a-any pictures taken of me. Please don’t be mad at me, I don’t know anything, I s-swear …”

You have wrapped your arms around yourself. You look so incredibly small. And helpless. He feels as if someone has punched him right in the stomach. He can't bring himself to shout at you. The fire in his eyes seems to blow out, leaving his eyes as dark as they should. He breathes heavily, feeling empty and painfully aware of everything around him — every little sound, movement. He finally realizes what's going on.

“Fuck”, he breathes out in a whisper and pulls you into his arms, into a tight embrace. “I'm so sorry.”

You sob into his shoulder, voice getting muffled in his white shirt. Silas hugs you as if his life depends on it.

“Baby, I didn't mean to shout at you”, he whispers. “I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that disgusting filth. Not you, do you understand?”

He pulls you back and covers your face in apologetic kisses, caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears.

“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

You nod slightly and sniffle. Still shaking, but not mortified. 

“What pictures?” you ask with an unsteady voice.

Silas looks at SIC.

“Did you get the number?” he asks.

“No, I didn't have time to move over the sim card before I heard the glass shattering.”

Silas clears his throat. His ears turn red.

“Go retrieve the number and then come back”, he says.

SIC nods and walks out. Silas turns to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips carefully.

“Sorry”, he says again.

“It’s … okay”, you mumble.

It doesn't seem to register for him. He has a guilty look in his black eyes.

“Silas … what pictures?” you ask again, dreading the answer yet needing to know.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I shouldn’t have told you. I will take care of it, okay?”

“You got so upset about it … something must be wrong. Have someone taken pics of me while I’ve … had sex?”

Silas can’t tell you. He knows how distraught you’ll be. 

“No, not while you had … after you were done … I don’t know”, he says. “I could have misunderstood the pictures. I broke my phone right after seeing them.” He notices how you give him an unsure gaze as he mentions his phone. “I get worked up quickly.”

You sniffle. Silas wipes your tears again and hugs you even tighter, resting his cheek on the top of your head. He feels like a complete fool, how could he slip up like that? He would never shout at you, never make you feel threatened. For fuck sake, you’re supposed to seek shelter and comfort in him!

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” Silas asks. 

“Mhm”, you mumble. “Just shaking.”

“I can tell.” His embrace tightens. “Let’s sit down, alright?”

He moves you to the bed and sits down with you beside him. 

“What have you done today?” he asks and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

“I’ve been watching some shows”, you reply. 

“Which one?”

“Some cartoon … I don’t remember the name.”

“Do you think I’d like it?”

You give him a small smile and shake your head. “No, it’s too cheesy for you.”

Silas smiles. “What type of fucking stereotype is that? Show me and I’ll decide for myself.”

You reach for the tablet and show him a few minutes of the cartoon. He leans onto you, wrapping himself around you like a boa constrictor. 

The door opens and SIC returns with his phone in his hand. 

“Got it”, he says and walks over to the bed. “Y/N, take a look and-”

Silas slaps his hand away. 

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” he scolds him. “You’re not showing them those!”

SIC holds his phone out of Silas’s reach. 

“I am”, SIC replies.

Silas stands up. The animalistic, lredatory light is back in his eyes. You don’t doubt that he would punch him. 

“I am going to show these pictures to Y/N to confirm that they remember the sex happening”, SIC explains sharply. “Because if they don’t, we might have a worse crime on our hands.”

Silas doesn’t reply. He seems to think, and seems to consider whether he should punch the man or not. He nods in defeat. SIC gives you the phone and you take a mortified look at the two pictures. 

“Do you recognise where you are in these two pictures?” SIC asks. “Do you know when this was? Do you have memories of it?”

You look at the pictures, fearing that you’re not going to recognise the location or remember what happened … or who you were with.

“I know when and where this is”, you say. “It was five years ago. I remember it.”

“You're sure you remember it?” SIC asks.

“Yes … but I didn't know that he took pics …” 

“Okay, the fucker is dead”, Silas decides.

“What was his name?” SIC asks.

“‘Eric’ something”, you say. “I met him at a party. He was nice, or so i thought, and-”

Silas runs a hand through his black hair and sighs.

“I guess that he wasn't that nice”, you mumble.

“Pricks like that are never nice. They're just polite enough to lure people to get what they want. Who knows how many innocent people's photos he has on his hard drive?”

“Silas, can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“If you manage to find him-”

“Not if; when.”

“When you manage to find him, give him an extra punch from me, will you?”

Silas smiles. “I'll give him tenfolds.”

Finding him is easier than the poor fellow had anticipated. Silas pities him. He's either too stupid to know who he is or has a death wish. He can't decide which one is worse.

“God, you're even uglier than i imagined”, Silas scoffs as he sees the man for the first time.

He's held up by two of his men, body pounded with punches beyond recognizable, but they've left his face untouched. That's for Silas to ruin.

“You're even uglier than your mess of a body”, he says, grabbing the man's face, tuning it carelessly. “We haven't even touched this yet. What did you gain from this? Not a lot, I see. I mean, you're here, in my basement, about to be killed. Can't say that I understand your intentions.”

“Did you like the pictures?” Eric asks, voice drowning in painful moans.

“‘Did i like the pictures?’” Silas repeats, appalled by the man's lack of remorse. “I don't need your pitiful pictures. I get the full act from whatever angle I want.”

It shouldn't make him cocky, but bragging about it always fills him with pride.

“Give me his phone”, he orders.

One of his men digs up the phone from Eric's pocket. He forces him to unlock it.

“Do you take these types of pictures often?” Silas asks, eyes narrowing as he scrolls past hundreds of women sleeping in beds. “What even are these?”

“I take a picture of the woman after our session, after she's fallen asleep”, Eric replies, “as a trophy.”

“As a-”, he cuts himself off. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Silas hits him with all his might. Eric's head shoots backwards, his neck acting like a jojo to get it back. Blood runs down from his nose.

“Delete all the pictures”, he tells SIC and gives him the phone. “From the phone, any cloud, any other hard-drive. These pictures will never be seen by anyone ever again.”

“Yes, boss”, SIC replies and takes the phone.

He disappears up the stairs. Silas turns to Eric.

“How did you get my number?” he asks. “And, when you got it, didn't you check to see who it belonged to? You're pretty stupid.”

“I just know that the number belonged to Y/N’s new boyfriend”, Eric replies.

“Husband.”

It shouldn't fill him with such pride at a moment like this, yet it does. 

“You're going to die now anyway, so it doesn't matter if I tell you my name”, Silas says. 

One of his men gives him a knife with a long shiny blade.

“Boss”, SIC says from the top of the stairs. “Y/N’s here.”

Silas hurries to give the knife back and gestures for him to hide it. 

“I’ll come upstairs”, he says. 

Before he has time to move, you've bursted past SIC. He tries to grab at you, but you're already half down the stairs.

“You absolute worthless piece of shit”, you spit.

Silas raises his eyebrows. 

Oh?

You run right over to Eric and slap him. Silas stands stunned. It takes him a few moments to gather himself and stop looking like a fool. He turns to the stairs where SIC stands, holding his hand over his face, laughing silently. He folds and has to hold onto the wall.

“How could you take such pictures?” you ask him. “What gave you the right?”

Silas grabs your shoulder to pull you away from him, but you shake him off.

“It's not like I took pics while we had sex”, Eric says, voice sounding even more painful.

Silas smirks. He can already tell that'll happen by the way your eyes widen. And he won't stop it. Won't even try to. You hit the man again and kick him between the legs. He tries to curl up, but is being held up by Silas’s men. 

“Okay, okay”, Silas says and grabs your shoulders, pulling you backwards. “Enough of that. SIC, take Y/N to the bedroom and make sure they stay there.”

SIC grabs you out of his arms. Silas grabs the knife once more. 

“What should we start with?” he asks, spinning the knife. “Your hands? Arms? Legs? Decide, coward.”

SIC forces you upstairs before he has the time to cut off any body parts.

“Let me go!” you mutter. 

“Just stay quiet until we get up to the bedroom”, SIC says. “Nice shot you got, by the way. I know it caught Silas by surprise. That’s hard to do, you know.”

“He deserves more.”

“And Silas will give him that, don’t you worry. That is not your job. You got two punches and one kick in, that’s enough.”

WHen you try to run back downstairs, he picks you up over his shoulder and continues upstairs. 

“Don’t give me more trouble”, he sighs. 

SIC walks into the bedroom and places you down on the floor before barricading the door with his body to make sure you’re not making a run for it. 

“The pictures are gone”, SIC says. “All of them — of you and of other people.”

“How many were there?”

“Hundreds. All taken when they had fallen asleep afterwards. He kept them like trophies.”

The door opens before he’s done with his sentence. Silas walks in, finally looking pleased. 

“Dona already?” SIC asks. 

“I got impatient”, he mutters and closes the door. “Little thing, are you okay?”

You nod. Silas hugs you, kissing the top of your head. He still feels awful about shouting at you. He squeezes you even tighter. 

“Thank you”, you say quietly. “You helped not only me but also a lot of other people. That’s a good thing.”

His heart clenches. He has apologized a million times and you have forgiven him … but he can’t seem to forgive himself. It all happened so quickly, yet it lingers in him. 

“Of course”, he says. “Scumbags need to be taken care of the right way. I kind of pitied the man. He must have been extremely stupid to let me know about him. Good that he was stupid though.”

Thinking about him makes him furious once more, but he reminds himself that it’s over. He has gotten his punishment … and Silas has saved people. Innocent people should never be punished for crimes they didn’t commit.

No one will ever see any those pictures again. No one will have to deal with that man ever again. 

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 03:12 A.M 」

tw: pregnancy. just a little something based on ask~ gojo annoys you on daily basis, so now you return the favor and he can't refuse it bc you're his baby mama😋

a part of gojo's love entries

“satoru— your baby is hungry,” you pouted, poking his cheek repeatedly. “sa-to-ru!!”

it was 3 in the morning, and ideally, you would have been sleeping... only that suddenly you were awoken by rumbles from your growing belly.

yet your husband was still sound asleep without any care in the world, prompting you to poke him until you succeeded in making him hear you out.

satoru begrudgingly cracked his eyes open, still having his face tucked under the blanket and yawning. “ngh, sweets… what is it?”

his sleepy voice was thick, low and raspy. usually you’d swoon and leave a hickey or two on his neck but not now, as the overwhelming hunger made you almost curl.

“baby is craving mochi,” you said, eyes shining up to him ever so innocently. “get it for me, satoruuu.”

“oh?” if he wasn’t awake before, now he was after hearing your nagging tone drawling his name. he faced you and drew you closer. “what do you want again, hmm?”

“ice cream mochi!!”

“oooh that.” satoru scratched his head at the memory of him eating the last of it yesterday. “but we ran out of them, sweetheart… wait till morning, yeah? i’ll go to market to get some.”

“but...”

“can’t baby wait a few more hours, hmm?”

“no! want it— now!”

satoru blinked at your insistence. you looked positively adorable while sulking at him too.

“why mochi all of sudden, huh?” he decided to humor you. “you used to say they taste bland.”

“that’s because of your sperm infecting me,” you sullenly accused. “and don’t pretend you haven’t been feeding me mochi for weeks. baby likes it more than i thought.”

“hey! don’t bash my sperm! they did no wrong and completed the deed splendidly!”

“you’re just a one-time donor, don’t be smug.”

he whined and you huffed, before suddenly your stomach grumbled loudly and you curled up. “mmhm.”

“hey… what’s wrong?” satoru quickly sat up and placed his hand on your baby bump. “really hungry? wait, i’ll get you something to nibble on first.”

he rummaged through his work uniform and found several bite-sized chocolate bars he brought around, and unwrapped the foil. “here.”

you immediately devoured the treat to sate your hunger, but still, your baby longed for more—

“mochi…” you mumbled despondently, your expression turning heartbroken. and one second later satoru realized how much he wanted to squeeze your cheeks, and relented.

“okay, okay, sweets~” he gave your head several comforting pats, making you look up. “i’ll go and get the mochi, yeah? you stay put and wait for me, 'kay?”

“yay.” a little smile bloomed in your face and satoru chuckled, finding you so unbearably endearing.

and so, for you, he ventured out to the closest 24-hour convenience store, picking up some ice cream mochi along with other treats to replenish your stock, before teleporting back home.

he was expecting that you'd still be all sulky while waiting for him, but instead, he found you peacefully asleep, hogging his pillow.

each breath that caused your chest to rise and fall made you appear all the more vulnerable and soft in his eyes.

you looked so irrevocably precious to him. his sweet little wife... in that moment, satoru felt like he was the luckiest man alive, getting to have you as his.

“you naughty girl.” he let out an amused laugh before reclaiming his spot next to you. the hold you had over him— you made him go through the cold night air, and now you were monopolizing his pillow and he had to resume sleeping without one at all.

and yet all he could feel was love. for you and your baby, as he pulled you close to his chest.

“both of you sure love teaming up against me, huh?”

[angrythingstarlight]

Bucky’s accountant: “sir you’re spending a lot of money on mrs and miss barnes-“

Bucky: * glare* “are you saying they don’t deserve it?”

Bucky’s accountant: “n-never mind”

Bucky enjoys it when you spend his spend money. He's made it abundantly clear that he wants you to have a soft, luxurious life. He doesn't want you to have to worry about finances. He takes care of everything. That includes you. All you have to do is let him.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

CW: Little bit o' fluff, Little bit o' smut.

A/N: Unbeta'd drabble for the Bumblebee series.

Your name is on all the accounts, the deeds, his businesses (the legitimate ones anyway) and of course, it’s embossed on his black card. He loved giving you that. And he laughed when you asked about a limit. There isn’t one. He told you to get whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.

Bucky knew from the jump that you were going to have reservations. He’s been working you through them.

So you can imagine how he felt the day his accountant knocked on his office door to inform him of a suspicious charge.

Bucky sits in his chair, staring impassively at Gregory as he lists off the recent expenses he discovered while reconciling Bucky’s accounts this morning. “...and there’s a charge for almost ten thousand at a supply shop. Some art place in Manhattan. And there’s another one at a bookstore for nearly a grand. I can have these reported—”

Bucky runs a hand down his face, revealing the beginning of a grin. The rare sight of the mobster smiling throws Gregory off kilter, causing him to trail off in disbelief.

10k on your hobbies? That’s his girl.

“I approve. In fact, I approve of everything she buys.”

“Sir. I must say that this seems excessive.”

“It’s not.” That smile is gone as quickly as it appears, and Gregory shrinks back in his chair. “I told her to spend at least ten times that this month. All her purchases are approved. No matter what she buys. My wife gets whatever she wants. Do you understand?”

His voice leaves a chill in the air and this time, when he smiles, it sends a slither of fear up the portly man’s spine.

“Yes, yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He’s dismissed without a word, leaving Bucky to contemplate all the ways he’s going to reward you tonight.

You crouch down, taking the small shopping bag off her shoulder and setting it next to the pile by the sofa. Straightening her light pink sleeve, you dust off the front of her dress. "Remember what we practiced."

Bee nods seriously. “I remembers Mommy.”

“When Papa asks what we bought today—”

“I say it’s our secrets,” she eagerly interrupts with a grin. “And then I run real fast.”

Bucky knocks on the open door. Once. Twice. “How’s my girls?”

“Hi, Papa!”

You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, hand in his pocket, and a curious glint in his eyes. “Hello sweet Bee. You have fun today? What’d you get me?”

She opens her mouth before shutting it when you poke her in the belly. “Our secrets.”

“Our secrets Papa.” She repeats, shrugging both shoulders. “Can’t tells you.”

“Aw, but I don’t have any.”

You know that tone even if your innocent, adorable baby doesn’t. Bee’s eyes soften and you can see her starting to cave. You have to intervene now before she tells him ‘jus’ one cause he needs it’.

A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as you defiantly gaze into the stormy depths of his piercing blue eyes.

“Don’t fall that Bumblebee. He already knows too many. Remember? You’re going to run over to your office so he doesn’t get anymore of our secrets and you’ll get two cupcakes after dinner. Ready?”

Bee takes a deep breath, gauging the distance between her and Bucky. “Weady.”

“Go!” you encourage, her giggles filling the room as she takes off. “Run Bee!”

Bucky shifts, stepping into the middle of the doorway, his six-foot-something frame filling the space. Pride blooms in his chest when she fearlessly keeps running towards him, skirting around his long legs with a mumbled ‘scuse me Papa."

You smother a laugh when she lets out a spirited cheer over making it out the room. The joy coursing through you fades to a thready hum of anticipation.

She may have made her getaway but you're very much trapped.

He waits until her giggles fade down the hallway and the sounds of Bluey filter out of her office. Then he turns all his attention to you.

“How much did you spend?” Bucky leans back against the doorframe, his eyes darkening as they skate over the bags to your pretty face.

“Enough.”

“I doubt it,” he hums under his breath. He holds up two long fingers, beckoning you closer. The seemingly innocent gesture is down right obscene because you have first-hand knowledge what those fingers are capable of. “Now it’s your turn. Let’s see if you can get past me.”

You don’t.

He lets you take about three steps before he grabs you. Kicks the door shut. Bends you over the side of the couch, knees sinking into cushions, your head hovering over the edge, near the bags you refuse to let him open. Takes you apart with his finger and tongue before splitting you open on his cock.

Praises you sweetly for spending his money while fucking you like he was punishing you for not spending more.

Which you both know he is.

He makes you work for it, makes you promise to treat yourself as good as he treats you, leaves you so desperate and on edge that you agree to everything that comes out of his mouth.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

All those little pleas drive his hips faster and deeper until they meld into an incomprehensible keen.

By the time you get there, that peak is so sharp and blinding it nearly hurts, leaving you drowning in a sea of overwhelming pleasure, your eyes rolling back, vision blurring as his hips grind into you, his thumb rubbing a perfect, rough circle around your clit.

He can’t think of a more beautiful sound than the low, frantic sob tearing from your lips.

Bucky is almost satisfied. Almost. Still, he doesn’t quite believe you. He thinks you’re going to need a little more convincing.

It’s going to take a few more rigorous sessions to make you come around. See things from his perspective. Understand that while you might be able to take him, he’ll always come out on top. That he’ll ride you over and over until you relent and let him give you what you deserve.

And he’s more than willing to do whatever it takes to get you to spend more.

Bucky places a soft kiss on your tear-streaked face, his soft lips move to your ear while his hips start moving again.

“We’re just getting started, Malyshka.”

And I—

[spotsupstuff]

I'm still working on getting the gardening ending for myself, but I've been collecting some ponderings I'd like to write down. So:

A congregate of thoughts on Watcher lore (as of now):

• I really like that this DLC is right now three kids in a spiritual trenchcoat. None of them is normal. I bet they'd all be friends if they met.

• I really like the color coding of these 3, as for what I've assumed regarding to colors' symbolism in this world: - Black stands for Nirvāṇa, the Void, being outside of the reincarnation cycle - Gold/yellow stands for holiness, ascension - Blue/purple stands for damnation/stagnation - White stands for Saṃsāra, the cycle of reincarnation, the physical world (the Watcher lingers in the physical world, unwilling to leave it)

On the account of blue and yellow being on opposing sides on the color wheel, I'd also gander a guess that the Rot and the Void don't entirely agree with each other/may be on opposing sides.

• Therefore, I don't think the gardening ending was exactly what the Rot Prince wanted to achieve, supported by his last two dialogues with the Watcher:

[Greeting lines]. As with all great deeds, my work is not without great challenge. It has taken eons and the light fades. The paths close and change. I can almost feel... a will... at odds with my own.

[Greeting lines]. Forgive me if I go on! You have done so much for me, I will not burden you with my troubles. Please, rest here as long as you wish. You are always safe here, my dear friend. You, who were there for me.

My guess is that the content that hasn't dropped yet will introduce either a new character/s in a sort of godly roles, or will explain the powers playing behind the wheel flowers and the Cycle.

• A light at the end of the tunnel (or something white/bright with a way to it?) is mentioned by both Spinning Top (at her ending) and the Prince (both as a flowerbud and in that first paragraph I copied up there).

I don't know what to do with this yet, I just found it interesting. Something something the white light within the Void Sea in the original game?

• ,,Outer Rim...?"

The Buddhist cosmology says the world is made out of 9 mountains (Mount Sumeru [the axis mundi], 7 golden mountain ranges and 1 outermost iron mountain range [maybe the withered buildings here are made of rusted iron, buried in stardust]) and 8 seas (7 freshwater and 1 saltwater), with 4 continents within the salt sea who's inhabitants each have a little something extra (except the South I guess, that's where *we* are. well apparently all Buddhas appear here actually, so you know. that's a something).

For an interesting example, the north continent called Uttarakuru is said to house the wealthy, owning no private property, where their food grows by itself and they live in the skies (Iterator cities, nudge nudge).

The name of this region could point to the Buddhist cosmological map being a physical fact for this world. I'd like to think that the dimension hopping aspect to the Watcher's worming through the space-time is at least limited to 4 continents(/realities?).

Also a fan fact: in Chinese mythology it is said the waters flow and stars fall slowly, because a water god with a bad tamper, Gònggōng, broke one of the pillars supporting the sky. Combining this fun nugget with the established lore in a pearl that everything is once eaten away by the Void down below, I'd say it is safe to assume on 89% that the dust mentioned in that pearl comes from the heaven itself and creates a sort of a cycle of the physical matter.

Suppose stardust is what creates everything, powers everything (just as is said in science). Suppose the Starcatchers are superstructures made for conversion of it into desired forms, these ones perhaps in the West of the world specifically, because of their circular shape.

(Meaning Signal Spires are perhaps of the South, while original game- aka Pebbles and Moon- are in the North of this world.)

• I find it fascinating and validating that Spinning Top needed some sort of an Embrace from one of the Five Urges/Hindrances (the third one, companionship) to be able to pass on.

It points to my idea of what the religion is Really supposed to be about: the Five Urges are what they are- urges- and they cannot run rampant. The point isn't to absolutely *eradicate* violence, pleasure, companionship, hunger and desire to live from oneself. The point is to be able to control these things and not cling on to them.

Because if one clings on to something, they stagnate, they cannot progress, they rot and they *fear* losing the something more than they can truly enjoy it or they get far too lost in it to feel it right anymore. To cling on to life means being afraid of taking risks, trying something new and really Living.

But now that doesn't mean going for the opposite is the correct way to go about it- that still creates a desire, a clinging- an urge for death is just as good as urge for life. It binds. It's extremism without careful consideration for what is really the best to do, feel and think in any given situation.

(This goes for love, too, it is GOOD to love, but going too far becomes unhealthy obsession instead of love. Going the other way results in hatred, another utterly useless and harmful thing to harbor. Same as indifference - that is stagnation again, that isn't picking up something, working with it to move forward. Love is a forward motion that is required, but cannot be overdone because as so it would be bastardized into something else, possessive and caging.)

Spinning Top could move on only when she knew that the flipside of the Third Urge- a sickening loneliness- wasn't something to fear anymore.

• Yeah, I don't think we can count on backgrounds too much when it comes to size calculating on the basis that they are probably shaped around gameplay. Specifically thinking about how the spinning top toy changes sizes between it's in-game model and the art. When it comes to Ancients, I'd say the best one can do is do what feels right.

• The Rot Prince is some sort of a boosted up Preta, I swear to heavens. Hungry guy. Maybe the Rot as a whole is a Preta stand in, just way more physical.

• Can't believe my ,,Respawning is real" headcanon has been officially given the thumbs down... The *Strand* Theory is real. (Even though DP is separate from the Watcher, this at least explains why Artificer didn't just go back to the last shelter she slept in when her cubs were still with her. They went to a different strand, where a different Artificer managed the situation better and we are stuck in this reality without them.) (We see them in her Void ending either because they are the one thing her heart wishes for [the Void gives comfort to those who are passing, as far as I am concerned], or because the Void is where all the reality strands and times coincide into one another.)

• On that note, no Fucking wonder the Ancients wanna bail - we don't really know to what extend they were aware of reality's unwounding nature, but assuming it is Pretty Thorough, I too wouldn't wanna live with the knowledge that in one reality I might've died on my loved ones, leaving them broken, while in the other everything is just fine and dandy.

The endless wondering of ,,Did I die in a different reality at any point in my life? Did I leave these people I love behind to hurt, alone, and I can't do anything to help them? I can never know, I'm not allowed to comprehend..." would slowly kill anyone with a heart, I think.

• I wonder if the Prince is a puppet/the Rot made itself a puppet, - because the Starcatchers were Iterator-esque biomechanications with a different directive than iterating on the Big Problem and this is a consumed Starcatcher (something about its budding dialogue feels to me like there was a sense of a Self beforehand that was drowned out by the Rot and then was pulled forward again with additions) - because the Rot is at the edge of the universe (humming a tune) where a messed up slugcat decided to start ripping holes in the reality, therefore connecting different strands including to places where the Rot already existed as a plague upon Some Iterator, which gave spark to sapience and inspiration to a new mind

• The new karma set is definitely a droplet and the ripples it leaves behind. Makes sense, too, there's more ,,movement" within it the more Spinning Top yanks the Watcher around in time-space (accidentally, I'd guess. or the ,,blame" is more on Watcher *somehow*), messing up their physical existence more and more.

Maybe the karma symbols or the imagery itself have something to do with a combination of an axis mundi and the strand form of existence.

Something about there being a main timeline in which each action and decision creates a new ripple, a new strand.

• I wonder if the Watcher could've come across Spinning Top and effectively latch on/follow her, - because they were already dead/echoed (the dream sequence upon reaching the final karma level could mean they did go to the Void Sea and swam pretty deep but turned back and that resulted in Echo-ification? then again why can a lizard bite me. Spinny's laughing at me for it. Goddammit.) - because of their nature as someone who's so damn hesitant about things, who hangs in the backlines, only observes and learns. Very Echo-esque personality - because of their desire to have someone there

• Just realized that we have a canonical design for Spinning Top's mask, hot damn. ,,How do children's masks look like?" answered.

I don't know why, that kind of creeps me out.

• The portals existing outside of us are made by Spinning Top, I'm pretty sure. She's always over them.

Is it normal for Echoes to leave tears like that? I think if the Rot Prince met her and knew she's the one who started this whole journey that resulted in him coming to exist as a consciousness and to bloom, he'd see her as a friend the same way he sees the Watcher.

• I wonder if his approach to the Rot Triple Affirmitive is ,,it's going to get worse before it gets better". He has suffered, too- while he normally speaks gently, calmly, orderly, when he is a flowerbud he seems frantic to me. Like someone breathing through death before getting better.

• Is the concept of the Rot Prince created for the first time in all existences' or is he a repeating pattern, too? The Rot in the least seems to be a pattern, because of what Spinning Top says when we meet her in one of the original regions, eaten through by the Rot.

,,You shouldn't have come here. It's too far." Does that refer to this strand's/ripple's distance from the axis mundi/the water drop creating all these realities? The further out the little wave carries out, growing smaller and weaker, the more rotten through it is? Is it because still water is stagnation, just as the Rot is?

So the Cycle is change and movement, life and love, that exists in a hurtful matter not out of its design, but because it has to contend with absolute stillness/stagnation/the Rot? Or it's all part of the same system, truly designed like this?

Could a Mass Ascension be seen as an escape plan from a ripple growing old? Man...

• A quick attempt at illustrating the previous thought:

Some Pepe Silvia level nonsense going on here.

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 2

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.8k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), explicit language, cheating, pregnancy, smut – PIV sex (doggy style)

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your summer babysitting job turned adulterous summer scandal.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the kind words and support on Part 1 of this! I hope you enjoy part 2, and who knows, maybe I'll write a part 3 one day lol. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Taglist: @scorpiosugar @diegojeanne @f4irygard3n @cvixmei @soniiyi - more tags in the comments

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, holding the pregnancy test, hoping that somehow, you’ll blink away the second line indicating that you are indeed pregnant.

“No way.” Chiyo waits for you outside the stall, the apprehension in her voice apparent.

“Yes. I’m…” There’s a lump in your throat you have to swallow before you finish your sentence. “Pregnant.”

Your best friend’s silence on the other side only makes you panic more, but you don’t blame her. What can she really say to make any of this better? To stop your world from turning upside down?

She whispers your name quietly, at a complete loss for words. Then, she clears her throat, sounding as if she’s fighting tears herself. “I’m going to buy you a melon pan. Just…wait for me here, okay?” It’s the only consolation she can offer you in this moment, huddled in a public restroom of a convenience store; you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You wait for her to leave, completely alone now. As soon as she’s gone, you sob into your hands.

It's not that you oppose being a mother. You’ve always imagined handing a positive pregnancy test to the love of your life with the biggest smile on your face, excited to raise a family together. Ideally, this would have happened sometime in the future, once you’ve established yourself as a full-fledged adult. Not like this: twenty-one years-old, less than a year until graduation without the slightest clue what you’re doing with your life. Worst of all, the father isn’t your husband, a boyfriend, even a friend. It’s Toji Fushiguro, the dad of the little boy you babysat over the summer, the husband of the kind woman who hired you. You still haven’t forgiven yourself for your adultery, the guilt eating away at you since the start of that lecherous summer fling. And now, you have this pee-on-a-stick to remind you how incredibly reckless you were to get involved with him in the first place. How undeniably irresponsible you were to have unprotected sex with a married man. Sure, it was the best sex you’ll probably ever have in your life. But was it worth it?

You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper, tossing it in the trash bin. Knowing that no good will come out of sulking in the 7-11 bathroom any longer, you finally exit the stall, washing your hands clean at the sink. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fixated on your belly, wondering what it will look like round and full of life. It buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. When you check to see who’s messaging, you almost drop your phone out of shock.

Somehow, someway, the universe has it out for you. Because in the most perfectly disastrous timing ever, Mrs. Fushiguro decides to contact you.

~~~

A week later, you’re sitting on the train, heading to the Fushiguro household. Your stomach is in knots, both from anxiety and from the morning sickness. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin sticky against your clothing in this hot weather. The closer you approach your destined stop, the more and more nervous you get, almost convinced to call the whole thing off.

Believe it or not, Mrs. Fushiguro did not contact you to confront you about the dirty deeds you did with her husband. Instead, she messaged you in dire need of a babysitter once again. She spares you the details, asking if you could meet her in person to better explain herself. And for whatever reason, you agree.

You haven’t come up with a solid plan yet on what you want to do about your little predicament. So far, the only people that know are Chiyo and your parents, who, after the initial shock of it all, have been surprisingly supportive. They advised you to take the rest of the term off, which you were able to get arranged quickly through your school. This gives you several weeks to decide what you need to do. With one issue resolved, it leaves you with the next, and the most pressing: whether or not you should tell the father. The last thing you want is to break apart the Fushiguro family. You’re fully prepared to raise this baby as a single mother, which, with the help of your parents and best friend, seems doable. Besides, you’re not even sure if you want Toji to be involved considering his complete lack of interest in his other child, Megumi. Despite that, you believe that as the father, he has the right to know. Can you gather the courage to actually tell him?

Still lost in your train of thought, you hop off to walk to the house. When you arrive, you spot Mrs. Fushiguro already outside, leaning against her car in the driveway with little Megumi in her arms. They both smile upon seeing you, warming your heart. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is to come. 

“Hello Mrs. Fushiguro,” you greet her, bowing politely, too shy to meet her gaze. “How are you?”

“Doing really well. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She lets her son down, who steps towards you until he’s hugging your knee, cooing. “I wanted to talk to you in person about my complicated situation.”

“Is everything alright?” you ask, unable to resist kneeling down to meet Megumi at eye level, making funny faces at him.

She giggles. “Oh, everything is great! The divorce finally went through and I’m living with my new boyfriend now, who’s been the absolute best, especially with Megumi.”

You make a shocked expression, mouth agape, exaggerated for the kid’s entertainment, though you’re pretty much stunned yourself. “Divorce…?”

“Yeah! Toji and I have been separated for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that over the summer. You’re still so young after all, no need to rope you into adult things.”

You almost bust out laughing at the irony, but you hold your tongue, continuing to listen to her.

She sighs, flipping her long, beautiful hair behind her shoulders. “That being said, I still care about the guy. I mean, he is the father of my child. Without me or Megumi there on a regular basis, the whole house has gone to shit. It seems like he’s actually taking this divorce pretty hard. So, I want to hire you as a babysitter for my ex-husband. Just for a little while until he can get back up on his feet.”

Another shocked face, which makes Megumi laugh while dread sinks into your chest. “Babysitter…?”

“Babysitter, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it. You did such a wonderful job with him over the summer, even while you were taking care of Megumi! I don’t know what you were feeding him. Whatever it was, he was definitely a little bit nicer when you were around.”

Lewd flashbacks replay in your mind of Toji eating you out sloppily, slurping up all your pussy juices in every room of the house. You focus on the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “Mrs. Fushiguro, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She squats to your level, reaching for your hand, holding it gently in hers. “I know this is a lot of ask. You’re the only one I can rely on for this. Please.”

A sense of déjà vu hits you. There’s desperation in her tone and it tugs at your heartstrings the same way it did when you first met her a few months ago. It doesn’t help that Megumi is now squeezing the index finger of your other hand, eyes full of curious wonder, grip surprisingly strong for such a young child. Would she be pleading with you like this if she knew the truth about you, Toji, and the baby? Even though they were separated during this whole ordeal, it doesn’t make what you did any better; you still decided to do it regardless of their marital status.

Maybe you can use this opportunity as a way to atone.  

You finally look at her, giving the most convincing smile you can muster, trying your best to ignore the wave of nausea washing over you. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

~~~

Mrs. Fushiguro asks you to start at noon the following day, giving her enough time to notify her ex about your temporary employment. When you use the set of keys she gave you to open the front door, you step inside cautiously, not sure what to expect. You’ve been dreading this impromptu reunion all night, wondering if you could even face him.

It’s a mess inside, heaps of dirty laundry scattered all over the furniture, fast food wrappers and empty ramen bowls littered on the kitchen counter. There’s a stench lingering in the stale air in here and you almost think the worse, but Mrs. Fushiguro had warned you about this. Seeing it in person is more heartbreaking than disgusting. Toji really is taking this divorce hard. It wouldn’t be right to burden him with more life-changing news, right?

You begin by gathering all the trash into garbage bags, flattening any cardboard to recycle. By the looks of it, he’s been living off junk food and protein bars for the past month. The refrigerator is near empty, aside from a questionable take-out container in the very back, which you end up dumping along with everything else. You make it your next task to get groceries after you load the washing machine.

When you return from the store, Toji remains absent. Nerves prevent you from leaning against the bedroom door to listen for any signs of him in there. His ex-wife mentioned that he goes out to gamble at the horse races whenever he’s short on cash, so it’s likely he’s there. Still, you’re anticipating his return, mentally preparing yourself for how you’ll behave around him. Given your current circumstances, you are serious about turning over a new leaf. No more funny business with him. Absolutely not.

It’s near dinnertime now and you’ve miraculously accomplished tidying the house and doing his laundry all within a few hours. You even managed to cook soup for dinner, full of hearty beef and fresh vegetables, something to provide nutrients compared to the processed food he’s been consuming lately. You’re stirring the pot when you hear keys jingle from outside the front door. He comes in, clad in a tight-fitting black shirt that accentuates his muscles and grey sweatpants that don't leave much to the imagination. A plastic bag is slung behind his shoulder, clearly from a convenience store. Despite his concerning diet, his physique is still impressive as ever. Just one glance at him has you fluttering below your belly, replaying the erotic memories you share together. You turn to face him, standing up straight, feigning confidence while you fret internally. He looks at you, brow raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Hello sir,” you greet him, bowing politely. Acting as if he’s a total stranger and not the man who rocked your entire world over the summer, now with evidence to prove it.

He sets the bag on the counter, revealing a couple of ramen packets inside. “What’s with the formalities?” he asks, grinning. “If I remember correctly, you were screaming my name nonstop the last time you were here.”

Heat rushes into your cheeks instantly, not surprised by his vulgarity, though still embarrassed. You clear your throat, trying to stay strong. “I’m here to work. Nothing else.”

He walks towards you, his stature casting a daunting shadow as he steps closer and closer, towering over you. His voice is low, borderline threatening to a point that has you trembling. “So you don’t want me to fuck you anymore?”

You swallow hard, composure wavering. “That’s right.”  Even you don’t fully believe it when it comes out of your own mouth, how can you expect him to?

There’s a strange look in his eyes, almost like he’s disappointed by your response. He turns his back to you, mumbling something about taking a shower. You watch him enter his bedroom, hearing him clear as day before he shuts the door with a dull thud. “I guess you don’t want me either.”

~~~

A week into being Toji’s live-in housekeeper, the two of you figure out a routine together that involves minimal interaction. You wake up in the morning to cook breakfast, eating it quickly and leaving the rest for him while you go out. You use this time to go for a walk, meet with Chiyo or your parents, do some grocery shopping, or just sit at the nearby park, enjoying the sun with your baby, who grows little-by-little each day.

Toji is usually gone the whole afternoon, either working out or gambling, so you’re able to do chores back at the house, like cleaning his room. He doesn’t return until dinnertime when tension seems to be at its highest. A big reason for that is because he’s made it a habit to eat right after his shower, shirtless and with his legs crossed on the floor, displaying a perfectly visible outline of his manhood. It’s distracting, to say the least. Chiyo mentioned the other day how you can have an increased libido during the first trimester. That’s definitely proving itself now.

Aside from the half-nakedness, something else surprises you about him. The two of you mostly avoid conversation with each other, eating in silence at the dining table while sneaking furtive glances whenever you get a chance. But he never fails to mutter, “Thank you for the meal,” before washing the dishes at the sink, retreating back into his room when he’s done. It’s the tiniest act of consideration that makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

Tonight you sit across from each other as usual. You just finished eating the chicken katsu you made for dinner, along with a couple of side dishes you prepped earlier in the week. His abs look especially spectacular today and you find it harder than usual to stop peeking at them.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through me with the way you’re staring,” he says, chewing his last bite.

Shit, caught red-handed. You quickly look down at your empty bowl, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. I just…I can tell your hard work is paying off.”

“Yours too. The house has never been cleaner. And the food has never been better.” He’s looking directly at you, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you.”

It’s no good. Your hormones are raging, sexual desire courses through you, all from that stupidly handsome grin and a silly little compliment. How did you ever think you could resist him?

You stand up, grabbing everything from the table. “I’ll do the dishes,” you offer, walking them to the sink, trying to calm down.

It’s no use, though. He sees right through you.

He gives you only a minute alone before he follows you, caging you between his big arms, your back to him, his mouth hot on your ear. “Let me help you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, already unraveling from his proximity. The smallest jut of your hips and there it is, his erection pressed to your ass, throbbing and even more massive than you remember it. “Toji, we can’t,” you whine, not making any attempt to separate yourself from him.

He slides his hands around your hips, pulling you in closer, rubbing his rock-hard cock against you. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”

And he’s right. You do. You want him with you, around you, inside of you. In all the ways he’s had you before, in new ways he’s never had but you’ve fantasized about. There’s no denying it anymore. You want him. You want him so fucking bad.

He takes you right there at the kitchen sink, bent over with your grip tight on the edge of the counter, pounding away at your wet, needy cunt. Neither of you bother to remove your clothes completely, Toji’s sweatpants shrugged down his thighs just enough, yours pooled around your ankles, soaked panties at your knees. “Fuck, Toji!” you moan, sticking your ass out to meet his thrusts.

His fingers find your clit, rubbing slippery circles around it. “Say it,” he grunts, increasing the pace.

Drools leaks out from the sides of your lips, too fucked out to process what’s he’s asking you. “What?”

“Say you want me,” he demands, massaging your swollen bud so deep, you feel it all the way down to your fucking toes.

“I want you. I want you, Toji!” you respond breathlessly, squeezing him tight with your orgasm.

“Fuck, I missed you. Missed my good girl.” He continues to fuck you, slowly now, relishing every second of being inside you. “Always so fucking creamy for me, fuck.” He pulls you up to embrace you from behind, fingers still pleasuring you, his other hand at your chin to face you towards him. The two of you kiss passionately, lips smacking, tongues swirling. So sloppy and wanton that it puts you on the verge of another orgasm, completely succumbed to pleasure.

You sleep with him in his bedroom after several more orgasms and a big one of his own, wrapped comfortably in his arms, with his cock and creampie inside you the rest of the night. For the first time in a while, you’re oddly at peace.

~~~

Your reckless decision making has led you into another troublesome scenario. Fortunately, you haven’t had any morning sickness the entire first week of your employment at the Fushiguro household. Unfortunately, it decides to come back today. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it to the bathroom near your room, so you have no choice but to hop out of Toji’s bed and run into his, clutching onto the porcelain bowl until it’s all out. You rinse your mouth off at the sink, hoping Toji didn’t hear any of it. But you know all too well by now that luck is never on your side.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, watching you come out of the bathroom. “Did you just puke in there?” There’s a hint of concern in his normally blunt tone.

You nod, bending down to retrieve your underwear and pants off the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“Are you sick?” he asks, the worry even more obvious now.

Shaking your head, you respond, “No, I just…I’m feeling a little nauseous, that’s all.” You walk towards the door, still not willing to look at him. “There should be leftovers in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast. I’m going to lay down.”

He calls out your name. “Wait – ”

You ignore him, closing the door shut behind you, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you retreat into your own bedroom, muffling your sobs into a pillow. After your wild romp last night, this bout of morning sickness has swiftly brought you back to reality. You’re still harboring the secret growing in your womb from the man who gave it to you to begin with.

There’s a firm knock on your door, startling you. “Hey, it’s me.”

In this split-second, you decide to stop with the lies and finally tell the truth. You open the door, Toji standing in front of you fully clothed in his usual attire, a serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Eyes still puffy from crying, you take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.”

His mouth parts the slightest bit, no words coming out of it. The silence seems to linger on forever. You fill it by rambling all the thoughts that have been swimming in your head the last couple of weeks. “Before you start freaking out or anything, I’m telling you so that you know. I don’t expect you to be involved. I’m perfectly willing to raise this child on my own. And besides, I won’t be completely alone. I have my family to help me, my friends too. I’ll be totally fine. This baby is going to be well taken care of, I’ll make sure of it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how. But I feel better already because this has been stressing me out. It’s all going to work out okay? I think. I hope.”

After the long spiel, he stares down at the floor, jaw tight, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he says, “I have to go.”

When he leaves the house, you crawl into your bed, bawling until there are no tears left for you to cry.

~~~

You wake up in the late afternoon to an enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. It’s been hours since you’ve been in bed, moping about how poorly everything went with Toji. His reaction left you devastated. While you always expected to do this alone, hearing his negative response to it hurts more than you anticipated it to.

Curious, you make your way into the kitchen, shocked to find Toji standing over the stove, stirring a pot, the soothing scent of soup surrounding you. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing a plethora of fresh vegetables laid out on the counter, along with a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and various snacks.

He turns the heat off, covering the pot with a lid. “I’m cooking,” he answers, facing you with a grin on his face. “Bone broth is a good source of calcium. And you need to keep eating lots of veggies so our baby is strong, like me. No more of this instant ramen shit.”

“I thought you were upset,” you say, stepping closer to him.  

“I know. I’m sorry I left like that. I was shocked at first, I’ll admit it. But I started to get excited." He takes your hands in his. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a father isn’t one of them. Being a bad father is. I want to change. I need to change. For Megumi. For our new little one. For you.”

Strangely enough, you believe in his heartfelt declaration. You smile at him, letting him go to stand in front of the stove, taking a whiff of the comforting aroma of the hot soup he made for you, happy tears welling in your eyes. He hugs you gently from behind, nuzzling his nose to you. “I’m going to do it right this time, okay? I know I can do it with you.”

As Toji caresses your belly, kissing you softly along the neck, you feel the weight that’s been heavy on your shoulders ease up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

[speed-world]

Hey, I got this idea from watching some Dark Souls lore videos, so can I request a HC of beast cookies being beaten by a chosen Undead reader.

Plot: when the Beast cookies went on a rampage The Witches knew they had to stop them but the cookie were too powerful to do so so they decided to work together to bake a new cookie, a cookie that can weaken them to a point that they can be in prison, a cookie that can come back from the dead as much as possible until the deed is done, they call them the Chosen Undead Cookie

Sworn Purpose

The Five Beasts. The primordial Cookies created by the Witches as emissaries of the Godly Creators; that fell from grace due to their Absolute power corrupting them completely. The Witches couldn’t bear to see their creations promised as saviors turned apostles of evil, and so they punished the Beasts by sealing them away in Beast-Yeast. At least…that was what should have happened.

The Beasts rebelled, refusing to go quiet into the night. They broke free from their shackles and dominated the lands of Beast-Yeast without challenge. The Witches refused to give up however, and would go deeply into a period of heavy trials and error in baking something …greater. They combined their magic to create a Cookie that could complete the task they failed too. A Cookie that would never rest until they sealed these Beasts, even if the Cookie was crumbled. A Cookie that will rise and rise again, as if freshly baked out of the oven, to complete their assigned life purpose. As the Witches spent numerous days and nights creating this Cookie, they’d mix so many flavors into to them that the Cookie was ultimately nameless to the Witches. When finally completed, passerby Cookies knew them only by a couple of names: Y/N Cookie, or their more known, and more appropriate moniker…Chosen Undead Cookie.

It was never easy completing your task, but you never once questioned it or the Witches. They told you all the features and names of the Beasts, that you must do whatever it takes to seal them away, and you followed as such.

During your first attempt, you could barely make a move against a jester before being crumbled in a mess of crumbs and jam. The last thing you heard was the jester laughing before you reawakened in a different location.

One of the many blessings you had received from the Witches was that you could communicate with and hear them. You could hear some the Witches applaud you for your efforts, and others express their apologies for what you must suffer through. It didn’t faze you though, you had a God-given purpose, and you’d curse at yourself if you never finished it. Maybe one day…you could live a fairly normal life, but it won’t happen until your job is done.

“Oh~? Pfffttt AHAHAHAHAHA~~!! Oh this is priceless, you’re still kicking huh? I mean, what attempt is this, number….59? 100? Isn’t this tiring to you buddy~?”

“Silence, jester. I am not tired, not one bit. I have been assigned this duty by the Witches, and I refuse to stop until you Beasts are sealed away…”

You stared at him with the same neutral yet angry expression that you almost always have. He upsets you, just as the other Beasts. And, like him, they will be sealed by your hand sooner or later.

“Really now…? How many times have you said that? And yet the result is still the same! I’ll give you credit though, you’re getting closer each time!! But all that means is that I’m improving myself to make sure you continue to be the failure you are!!”

“Am I the failure, Shadow Milk Cookie? You were meant to be a savior, a hero to all Cookiekind until the end of days, but you failed at your duty. Don’t tell me, are you jealous that I’m favored and know how to follow simple instruction? Does it upset you that I’m succeeding in the role you failed to fulfill?”

“Tch…didja learn to talk all smart while you were in between the states of dying and living? Those Witches can BURN IN THE OVEN, AND YOU’LL JOIN THEM YOU MISERABLE PUPPET!!!”

“….I’m assuming you’re done wasting your breath away now? I’m glad you’ll be the first I seal, your voice annoys me…”

You readied yourself again for the umpteenth time, and stared holes into Shadow Milk Cookie. “You are the miserable one here, jester…” You muttered to yourself, before clashing with the jester once more.

————————————————————————

The cold steps of the Ivory Pagoda are all too familiar for you now. The aroma of the incense, the reflective gold of the tiles, all of it was practically burned in your memory as you approached the Master of the Ivory Pagoda yet again. Of course, you couldn’t meet the Master without seeing the guardian of Ivory Pagoda as well.

“Oh, Master, look who’s back again~! You must really enjoy witnessing the truth that my Master has to show the world! At this point, you’re the most frequent visitor here to the pagoda, maybe you’d want to stay here for the rest of your life~? It’s not like your immortality is doing you any favors being the Witches’s pawn~…”

You ignored the mocking comments of Cloud Haetae Cookie. They’re not what you’re here for anyways, so they can berate you all they want, it won’t take your attention away from your mission. You walked past the haetae and stared up at the Beast, who didn’t even open her eyes to you.

“One day, you will come to see how pointless your mission truly is. Again and again, you challenge my truth and power, and again and again, you fail to understand that you’ll never succeed…”

“That is where your arrogance has mislead you, Mystic Flour Cookie. You insist on yourself so much that you fail to grasp the reality around you. More and more, I grow resistant to your power, and I keep parts of my flavor in spite of being turned to flour. One day, you will come to realize that the madness you speak of will never be heard as you’ll spend your days sealed away as you deserve.”

Mystic Flour Cookie doesn’t bother responding to you. She only waves her hand, uttering the phrase you’ve heard numerous times now: “Return to Flour…”. Your words were true: you were still maintaining your flavor and everything else about you, and only small crumbs were being taken away, albeit incredibly slowly. Then you lounged at her, slashing at her with your blade….and you cut her. Jam leaked out of her thigh from the gash you made. Although your magic and control over the chains and Witch’s fork specialized for sealing the Beasts weren’t strong enough yet, you were making fast progress.

Cloud Haetae Cookie was shocked, but Mystic Flour appeared unfazed as usual. But one thing was abundantly clear, you were improving. Even if you didn’t seal her during this time, you would overcome her powers and seal her away, even if you were crumbled to flour in the process. Mystic Flour will be sealed, just like the other Beasts, and you’ll rise and rise again until your deed is done and all of the Beasts are sealed away.

————————————————————————

Hellish blazing embers and the ruins of forests are the most recognizable sight you know. Whenever you hear the fires crackling, you know that you’re close to Burning Spice Cookie. Burning Spice stares daggers into you just as you stare a hole back.

“You again, eh? How many times are we going to do the same song and dance until you’ve crumbled for good? Those damned Witches must have spent days, perhaps weeks trying to perfect a herald to defeat us, and your failure of an existence is all they have to show for their efforts. It would be funny, if it weren’t so sad and true…”

“I’ll keep coming back as many times as needed until you—“

“Yeah yeah, until us Beasts are sealed away. You’re a broken record at this point, and it’s really beginning to annoy the Hell out of me…. Then again, you do have your uses for being a toy, free for me to play with and break whenever I feel like it. So c’mon, let’s not waste words and entertain me, Chosen fool~…”

You smirked at Burning Spice; at least you two could agree on something, that being words are useless at this point. You steeled yourself and gripped your sword tightly, and Burning Spice did the same with that giant axe in hand. All you need to do is seal away Burning Spice, and even if you crumbled in the process, it will be done.

————————————————————————

The skies were an incredibly dark shade of pink, and you’ve slowly grown to hate it when the skies were like this. Mainly because you knew who it was that was around, and Witches did Eternal Sugar Cookie, wielding the power of Sloth, utterly piss you off.

All Eternal Sugar did was yawn on top of the cloud she rested on, and looked at you haphazardly with her hand resting on her cheek*

*Yaaaaaaawwwwnn* “Ahh, who’re you again? You always come here for ah…some mission from the Witch’s I think? Can’t you bother anyone else with your nonsense, I have a lot of better things to do than waste my precious energy on you agaaaaiinn…”

The tone in Eternal Sugar’s voice and manner is what really bothered you the most. Although it was fitting of the Sloth power she held, she just couldn’t care less about you or whatever inhumane actions she did to others. Granted, you weren’t much for words yourself, the most you talk is when dealing with the annoyance is Shadow Milk Cookie, so at least with Eternal Sugar you can get right to the point without any hesitation.

“At least you know what I’m here for, Beast…I’ll gladly make sure you’ve suffered in the last moments of your recreation…”

“Mhmmm, sure thing. Just hurry up and crumble already so you can bother someone else when you resurrect, please~….

Without waiting anymore, you charged at the lackadaisical Beast. Thankfully, the more you do this the more stronger and better you’re getting. Because the sooner you seal away Eternal Sugar, the better. Not just for the Witch’s and Cookiekind, but for the sake of your own mind.

————————————————————————

The eerie silence of the area you stepped into would be enough to scare any being beyond belief. It was dark, quiet, perfectly becoming the scene any scared children would have when fearing the dark. Only this was no dream, is was the brutal reality of a vicious Beast that you could never seem to get an upper hand against.

Silent Salt Cookie was just standing there, sword in hand as always. Out of all the Beasts, Silent Salt doesn’t do anything else now except wait for you. Silent Salt knows of your ability to keep coming back to life after dying and knew sooner or later you’d be back.

The quietness from you and Silent Salt was loud and easy to understand. You weren’t much for words yourself, no need to start now with a quiet Cookie. You both knew each other well enough, understanding the other’s goal in mind as you both nodded and readied your swords yet again. The area soon became loud with the sounds of clashing swords in a struggle of life and death.

Until your mission is fulfilled, until the Beasts are sealed away and no longer a threat to Cookiekind, then you will be raised from the dead. Retaining your mixture of flavors, knowledge and power, and using all of them against the foul Beasts that defiled their roles as promised saviors. Until the deed is done…

[anantaru]

— comforting you on a bad day

including — scaramouche, wriothesley, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader

genre — fluff, hurt -> comfort

— scaramouche

scaramouche finds you sitting on the couch, burying your face into your hands.

easy to see, he knew you must've had a bad day or that something inconvenient must've happen to you— and unquestionably, he feels a slight function of heartache when you're suddenly pulling your head up to look at him walk towards you, gloom settling on his countenance.

scaramouche doesn't say anything at first, he doesn't want to make you overwhelmed or like you had to talk about it, it was up to you if you wanted of course. but it was interesting to see how dependable he was on your happiness, because the man detested seeing your smile fade, he'd do anything to bring it back— as soon as you're sad, unahappy or dejected, he's beginning to feel it with you.

he was angry— bend out of his usual shape because he cannot find a quick solution to this, he just doesn't want to see you covered in a gloomy mask.

however, instead of resorting back to his past methods of handling situations such as those, especially the ones that come close to his own emotions, scaramouche decides to take a seat right next to you before placing his hand on his knee, but with his palm facing up— you see, as if to invite you to take it.

hopefully you do.

"you're quiet," he inquires shortly after, tilting his head to look at you, "on any other day, you'd greet me the moment i walk through that door," he purses his lips a little, the hand on his knee quietly turning impatient, like he's scared you won't take it— or even worse, what if he's the reason you felt this way?

troubled, scaramouche proceeds to look at you, and it might not come across like it since it can be quite difficult for him to show his proper feelings— but he'd do anything for you right now, if there's something he could do in order for your smile to appear again, he'd do it without batting an eye.

his throat lets go of a dry sigh when you take his hand sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder, holding your breath as you exhale through a crumbling heave.

scaramouche's grip on you tightens, "who did this to you?" he decides to ask, his voice growing an octave louder, ultimately signalizing the despair he felt from seeing you like this, "is there someone who made you feel this way? someone i should be aware of?" scaramouche had to know if there was a third party that was involved and most importantly, responsible for this— if so, you could easily leave it to him to take care of it.

you sniffle, the grip your hand had on his palm strengthening, "no one, it's just me," you embarrassingly rub your cheek against his shoulder as he leans back into the couch so you could make yourself more comfortable, "i just had a bad day, that's all," and as badly as your eyes wanted to flutter shut, you were frightened to do so due to possible tears dousing your cheeks.

for some reason, you didn't want him to see you cry— despite the fact that you would never be judged nor laughed at by him.

the man loves you dearly, he could tell the entire world about it— draw warm and tender words on a pavement blossoming with roses. it's truly a magical feeling, turning to dizzying deeds and actions when he gets to kiss and hug you, touch and caress you.

scaramouche whispers your name softly when he slowly runs his thumb to circle around your hand, "hey, you don't have to be sad anymore," at his sentence, you curiously turn your head up as best as you can when his eyes flitter down at you.

"i mean, since i'm back from the akademiya now, we can spend all night together," you make a hum of appreciation before shifting yourself into him so you're lying as close to your boyfriend as possible, "—besides," scaramouche continues as he rests his head against yours, his mind and spirit soothing yours, "if someone is, in fact, responsible for your sadness, i might need to take care of something else first."

you chuckle, believing he's joking before opting to peck his cheek as at the same time, he pulls you in for a proper kiss— ah well, how sweet, you're smiling now, he can sense it as denseness lifts from your shoulders.

strongly invaded by a warm cradle around your whole face, scaramouche silently takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "i told you," he sternly reminds you, whispering his words as his brows narrowed, the muscles in your face beginning to soften upon receiving his homely touch.

"i won't let anyone or anything sadden you, doesn't matter what it is, i will make sure you're being taken care of."

— wriothesley

you do not move an inch, your body hemmed in a draining blanket that fueled a negative spot in your heart, but do not be mistaken because within this cold, you can feel the warmth of wriothesley's love all the more.

you're like a sheet of glass right now, utterly still, eyes open as if gazing into a dark hole, unable to move a single muscle by how challenging this day had been for you.

as soon as he shrouds your body against his arms and pushes you into his chest, your eyes are glazed in warm liquid that cover the majority of your cheeks, slowly eating away at your skin. your boyfriend doesn't mind when you're crying in front of him, quite the reverse actually, he sees it as you trusting him so much, that you're willing to be vulnerable in front of him.

as soon as he kisses your forehead in reassurance, the force of the impact your emotions have caused on your mental state lift a little, paired with your general feelings resulting in you stumbling forward into his embrace, your hands clumsily scrambling at his jacket as you sniffle into his chest.

in your relationship you didn't need to hide your raw emotions, not only would wriothesley see through you right away, but it's, bluntly saying, pointless to do that in the first place. the man knows that in this moment in time, he needs to be there for you, and he doesn't expect you to be happy and positive all the time.

yet seeing you like this feels like losing a limb, because you're completing wriothesley in a way, you're like a puzzle piece fixing his heart— the fear of being unable to help you, give you what you need was scrambling into his body and mind, and if you ultimately sought after it, the duke would gladly destroy anything to make you happy, including himself.

"sorry, am i being too much?" you sniffle out before rubbing your eyes to get rid of the blur, honestly clueless as to why you're apologizing in the first place, "i think you must've expected our date to turn out differently," you continue, it was all you could shove past the heavy lump in your throat. you're holding yourself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows, your soft fingers slipping beneath the back of his neck.

wriothesley smiled, feeling the pull of it behind his heart, he disliked whenever you were apologizing for things you cannot control, not to mention when they were so human too.

"not at all, do not say that," he answers, holding you close, "you will never be able to be too much for me," he promises as he sighs out, one last octave teasing the following as his lips slowly move with a warm tenderness on your forehead once he places a kiss on you.

— alhaitham

alhaitham will not touch you, yes, he will sit next to you and offer a shoulder for you to lean on if you so seek it, but he will not begin to speak first nor say anything at all— wether it's questioning your current state or beginning to somehow figure it out on his own.

instead, he just listens to you.

you can talk to your boyfriend about everything, he does not care if it's pointless gossip you've overheard the other day, or you talking about this new, exciting hobby you found or like now, something that has pulled and squeezed at your heart like you're unable to breathe anymore.

he will not interrupt you, the man will make sure you can scream your heart out of your chest if it means that you feel better afterwards. he's a good listener and when you tell him everything that's on your mind, alhaitham will subconsciously ponder about possible solutions on how to help you out.

"nothing could be more human than this, don't ever feel like you have to hide this from me," he says as your tears slip beyond your control, rushing uncontrollably. alhaitham desired you beyond any significant reason, he has fallen for you and such fact will never falter, it's beyond native intelligence, beyond common sense.

although sometimes, he can trail off, it's cute, especially when he's catching himself admiring his darling, "you're so beautiful, have i told you that today?" for a second, right after you tipple over his words, your body is unable to react, and then you cannot help yourself but let go of a chuckle.

his sudden compliment came so unexpected regardless of your boyfriend being blunt by nature, "you're telling me this while i'm crying and looking like a mess?" your lips curve into a flustered smile, cutting through your initial weary facade. the chilling waves that flung into your body surely caused havoc, but it was almost frightening by how fast alhaitham could change your mood. 

"I thought you should know," he ponders, softly pushing your head up so you could look at him, "you're always beautiful to me, that has nothing to do with how you're feeling,"

shortly after, you lean into a tender kiss, chasing the love he was always providing you with— this time, simply feeling him once wasn't enough, so you kiss him again, again and again, leaving him with enlarged pupils as he pulls gently away.

— childe

childe will find things to make you feel better, heavy emphasized on the find.

it's something he has to get done and despite the fact that he might not seem like it, he feels it with you, everything, it impact him, regardless if you're being drained that day, saddened or if it even has anything to do with him in the first place.

naturally, he'd also pamper you so you're feeling more comfortable, but such wasn't necessarily a new in your relationship, he clearly has a habit of spoiling you to bits— the celestial bodies decorating the world, yes, ajax would reach for the stars in the sky if you so wished for them.

you're aware that he's mostly absent due to his work requiring him for the most times, but he'd make sure to be by your side the moment he realizes you're genuinely not feeling well. childe is quite adapt of finding a way to make what he wants to achieve possible so do not worry yourself, he will never let you down.

for all that, do not get greatly surprised when he's starting to throw around unfunny jokes his brother might've told him or tell you a story about how hilariously weird his fellow colleagues can be, not to mention scary which was rib-tickling in its own manner.

the man will get nervous too and it's cute, it's his first serious relationship and he doesn't want to do anything wrong. also, important side note but it goes without saying that him being this adorable will already lift your mood a bit.

he's also a little overwhelmed by the situation and is scared to make it somehow worse for you. little does he realize that you're so thankful to him, in fact, you do not need him to magically solve the problems for you, your boyfriend just being here and listening was enough to find comfort.

it's all the more charming, he is, how he smiles from head to toe when you're searching his snug, pleasant hugs when he lets you sob into his chest.

"you're so comfy," you mumble into his jacket before rubbing your cheek over the place where you could faintly notice his fastened heart thumping beneath his ribcage.

your message makes him immediately blush, scarlet red catching his skin and setting it ablaze as he averts his gaze a little to conceal it.

childe doesn't necessarily think he's good at comforting somebody, but he shows you another smile when you gaze up at him, his grin close-lipped but bright as a bared tooth, "i'm sorry, i know i have neglected you recently," you recognize the weary weight of his words, how they're crumpling off his face, "my work, ugh, i know i should've been there for you more," he groans, "you don't deserve to be alone all the time,"

"it's not your fault," you draw a shaky gasp, panicked arms flying to his neck to wrap around him, "you're here now, aren't you?" your eyes glow, flickering with an impression that he cannot forget, it's boiling over until reaching the surface of your complete countenance, "can you stay for the night? only if it's possible," you reluctantly continue.

it's important to note that you really do not fault him, childe was not only providing for his family, but he wanted to give you a life where you do not have to worry about the material aspect of living.

ajax slides his large palm soothingly along the shiver of pain wracking your frame as he listlessly rests his head against yours, "i'll stay as long as you want me to, until you're feeling better, until you can smile again."

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[whenthewallfell]

Some of the supporting cast of the thg/rdr mashup! I was gonna wait until the proper portraits were done but got too impatient haha

(deets below the cut)

Haymitch Abernathy

Not much is known about who he was before coming to New Hanover - his youth, his family, and his name are all things he refuses to talk about. What is known is that he spent some time as a migrant worker, travelling the states until he eventually came into the employ of government official Coriolanus Snow as a gun-for-hire. Snow later granted him a homestead in Cumberland Forest, in what would become a precursor to the General Allotment Act.

Despite the close proximity and occasional trades with the Wapiti tribe, Haymitch rebuffs all offers of community, preferring to spend his days in solitude. Recently, however, Katniss has strongarmed her way into his life, using his house as a base of operations whether he wants her to or not.

Johanna Yau

Yau Qiuyue was born and raised in West Elizabeth to a railroad worker and his wife, until the Chinatown they lived in was burned down by locals. Qiuyue was one of the few survivors, taken to be sold to a brothel; the men were found dead a few days later with a hatchet buried so deep in one man's skull they couldn't pull it out. She reappeared travelling under the name Johanna Yau with a bounty hunter, Haymitch Abernathy, who took her under his wing and taught her how to handle firearms.

These days she's something of a local legend - a vigilante who wipes out gangs and deals brutal justice to those who target immigrant workers. Known as The Dragoness of West Elizabeth, she is sometimes accompanied by the woman journalist Cressida Mason, who chronicles (and embellishes) her deeds. They make for an odd couple, preferring each other's company to that of any hopeful suitors.

Euphemia Trinket

A somewhat naïve secretary of Snow's who was tasked with monitoring his investment in the new allotment project, Euphemia is required to make fortnightly checkups and send reports on Haymitch's progress with the homestead. The position, while offering more freedom and independence than she might find otherwise, is not without its downsides - the fashion and culture of New Hanover is severely lacking in her eyes, and she misses the hustle and bustle of Blackwater.

Originally, Effie believed that what they were doing was essential to the betterment of their native neighbours and their introduction into Civilised Society, but she is beginning to have doubts after seeing the true extent of Haymitch's depression and the living conditions on the nearby reservation.

Primrose

Sister and polar opposite to Katniss, Primrose is a sweet girl with a sunny disposition, growing into a fine healer under the tutelage of her mother. She's also an accomplished sewist who is fascinated by 'modern' fashion, and enjoys blending outside and Wapiti influences into her own clothing whenever she can. She sometimes offers to work on Effie's as well in exchange for fashion plates and fabrics from the city.

Despite her gentle manner, however, Prim is deeply stubborn and fiercely devoted to her tribe and family. She thinks Katniss' idea of shipping her off to some random faraway city is the stupidest thing she's ever heard, and isn't afraid to fight her sister every step of the way.

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: daddy kink, dirty talk, blowjob, sukuna speaks italian, petnames in italien translations: piccola - little one/baby principessa – princess che brava – (what a) good girl sei carina, lo sai? – you're cute, you know? ti piace, piccola? – you like it, little one? notes: minors dni wc: 3.6k

Life was tough. At least your life was.

Living alone in this day and age was expensive and to pay your student loans was almost impossible. Yes, you could go the easy route and just sell your body or some pictures but that really wasn’t your style. You weren’t going to turn your body into a product. So, when a man called Toji came up to you, asking how much you were worth for the night, you rejected him and asked if you could do something else that would earn you just as much money. The handsome man simply smirked before your criminal life started. Ever since then your job was to “exchange fake money with real money”. Money laundering.

And you did just that. Asking your friends to lend you money and giving them back fake money, returning products you bought with the fake money, asking people if they could change one bill for another. It worked. The last few months worked without any problems at all. This month however was an absolute nightmare. Not only did Toji give you way more money than usual, you were in the middle of exam season. You were running behind and Toji warned you that his boss, Sukuna, was not pleased with your current status. Well, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.

As the heavy front door creaked open, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, burdened with the weight of deadlines, exams and Toji’s constant warnings. Your footsteps echoed in the dimly lit hallway, each one a testament to the fatigue that settled deep within your bones. With heavy shoulders and a weary sigh, you dragged yourself through the threshold of your home, longing for the solace of your own space. The weight of your backpack seemed to increase with every step, a physical manifestation of the mental strain you had endured throughout the day. As you entered your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp provided a faint comfort, but even its warmth couldn't dispel the overwhelming sense of stress that enveloped you. Toji kept sending you messages, telling you to hurry up and wash the money. Another sigh fell from your lips as you let your backpack and jacket fall to the ground. The moment you turned around you started to scream – a stranger was sitting on your bed.

Sukuna, the embodiment of wrath and power, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence casting a palpable aura of danger in the room. Clad in a white shirt and black pants that hugged his form with menacing elegance, his usually composed demeanor was shattered by a seething anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The fabric strained against his muscles as if unable to contain the sheer force of his rage. With a clenched jaw and eyes ablaze with fury, he exuded an aura of dominance that commanded attention. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the tempest within him. Every breath he took seemed to echo with the promise of destruction, a silent warning to those who dared to cross him. Despite the veneer of sophistication his attire provided, there was no mistaking the primal wrath that pulsed through his veins, ready to unleash chaos upon any who dared provoke him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Ain’t no way you’re talking to your leader like this, stupida.”

Realization hit instantly. This was what Toji was warning you from the whole time. It was Sukuna – the gang leader. You heard a lot of terrifying things about him. The name of Sukuna Ryomen struck terror into the hearts of all who dared to utter it. A gang leader with a penchant for unspeakable cruelty, his reign of terror was marked by a litany of horrifying deeds that stained the streets with blood and despair. From the depths of his depravity, tales whispered of Sukuna's penchant for gruesome displays of power — from the grisly dismemberment of rivals left as warnings, their mutilated remains strewn across the city like macabre ornaments, to the innocent lives snuffed out in acts of ruthless vengeance. His depraved appetite for control knew no bounds, his twisted machinations orchestrating a symphony of fear that echoed through the alleys and corridors of the urban labyrinth he ruled with an iron fist. Behind the facade of opulence and influence, Sukuna's true legacy lay in the shattered lives and haunted souls that bore witness to his reign of terror, forever scarred by the horrifying specter of his atrocities.

It was the first time that you actually saw him and it was the first time that you instantly got on your knees for a man. You knew you had to show your utmost respect to this man. “I am so sorry. I–I didn’t know. Please forgive me, Sukuna.”

A grin graced his face as he saw you submit to him so quickly. He loved that fear struck anyone who laid eyes upon him. On top of that: You were a beauty. However he could not just look over your lack of achievements. At first he was impressed by your work. You managed to wash all the money and not have a single cop suspicious of you, you were smart and didn’t tell a living soul about your connection to Sukuna’s gang. So, he decided to give you some more money, he was sure that you were able to handle it. You weren’t and you took none of Toji’s – his right hand – warnings seriously.

“You look good begging on your knees, piccola. You would have made way more money on the streets, you know?”, he snickered, Toji told him about your decision to never sell yourself. Sukuna respected that as long as you still somehow benefited him. “Toji warned you, didn’t he? You’re behind. Why are you fucking up my business, y/n?”

The flicker of a lighter cast an eerie glow upon his features, accentuating the cold calculation that lurked behind his piercing gaze. With practiced nonchalance, he retrieved a cigarette from its pack, his fingers deftly manipulating the slender cylinder with an air of arrogance. Ignoring the palpable tension that hung in the air like a shroud, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, a small ember igniting amidst the darkness. The sharp inhale of smoke filled the room, intertwining with your fear, a sinister dance that mirrored the power dynamics at play. In that moment, as the tendrils of smoke curled around him like malevolent serpents, Sukuna asserted his dominance with a single, calculated gesture, cementing his control over both the room and its trembling inhabitant.

“I–It’s just exam season…and I was given more than usual…I am really, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for everything.” You were frozen in the oppressive atmosphere of Sukuna's presence, your heart hammering in your chest like a caged bird desperate for escape. As he lit up a cigarette with an effortless display of power, you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, your nerves alight with a cocktail of fear and anticipation. Your breath caught in your throat, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull of his dominating presence. Despite the terror that coiled in the pit of your stomach, there was an undeniable undercurrent of arousal that stirred within you, a primal response to the sheer force of his authority. The way he commanded the room with effortless control sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire of desire that burned beneath the surface of fear. In the face of his overwhelming dominance, you found yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your body betraying you with each racing heartbeat as you struggled to navigate the complex interplay of fear and desire that pulsed between you two.

Sukuna's gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through your facade of fear with unnerving precision. In the flickering light of the room, his eyes seemed to strip away your defenses, laying bare the tangled web of emotions that churned within you. He could sense the trembling of your limbs, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the fear that gripped you. But beneath that fear, there simmered something else — a raw, primal desire that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. With a predatory grin, Sukuna leaned in closer to your kneeling form, his voice a low, husky murmur that seemed to caress the very air around. "I can see right through you, piccola," he murmured, his words laden with a dangerous allure that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "You can't hide that hunger from me." And in that moment, as the tension crackled between you like electricity, you realized that you were completely at his mercy, your desires laid bare for him to see.

As Sukuna's penetrating gaze lingered on you, you felt a flush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks like wildfire. Caught in the crosshairs of his scrutiny, you wished you could disappear into the shadows, away from the intensity of his knowing stare. The revelation of your hidden desire left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never experienced before. Each beat of your heart seemed to echo the rhythm of your mortification, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to meet his eyes, you lowered your gaze to the ground, willing yourself to shrink away from the searing intensity of his presence. In that moment, you felt small and insignificant, your embarrassment a stark reminder of your own vulnerability in the face of his commanding dominance “Excuse me…?”

Sukuna leaned back again, a smug grin on his face “Come closer, principessa, kneel right in front of me.”

Every word was your command. Slowly you got closer. Sukuna lounged on the edge of the bed with an air of undeniable authority, his legs spread wide in a display of dominance that seemed to fill the room. Clad in sleek black pants, he exuded an aura of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore. Before him, you knelt with a mixture of trepidation and submission, your eyes downcast as you awaited his next command. The tension between you crackled in the air like electricity, the space between you charged with unspoken desires and untamed passions. The balance of power shifted palpably, with Sukuna reigning supreme over his willing captive, your fates intertwined in the complex dance of dominance and submission.

With a gesture both possessive and tender, Sukuna's hand descended upon your head, his touch gentle yet commanding as he stroked your hair like a prized possession. His fingers traced the curve of your skull with an almost possessive reverence, eliciting a shiver of submission that coursed through your veins. In the silent exchange between you each caress was a silent affirmation of his dominance. With a soft, whispered command, he guided your head to rest upon his thigh, the weight of your submission a tangible presence that settled between. In this intimate tableau, you surrendered yourself completely to his will, your breath mingling with the fabric of his pants as you lay vulnerable and exposed before him, a willing captive to his every whim.

“Sei carina, lo sai? Look up at me with those big innocent eyes. Wanna seduce me, piccola?” As Sukuna's hand firmly grasped your head, a jolt of arousal surged through you, your pulse quickening with an intensity that matched the grip of his fingers. The sensation of his touch, commanding yet possessive, sent a thrill through, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Caught in the vice-like grip of his hand, you felt a surge of excitement welling up within you, your breath hitching in your throat as you succumbed to the intoxicating power of his dominance. The boundaries between fear and desire blurred into nothingness, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence with a hunger that you could scarcely contain.

“D–Did you just call me cute?”

“Is that all you have to say about it?”, With a deft motion, Sukuna's thumb traced the line of your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender as he caressed your skin with a commanding intimacy. As his thumb lingered at the corner of your lips, a surge of anticipation rippled through you, your breath catching in your throat at the tantalizing prospect of what was to come. With a boldness born of desire, you parted your lips ever so slightly, inviting him to delve deeper into the depths of your surrender. Without hesitation, Sukuna's thumb slipped past your lips, his touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced upon your tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and desire that left you dizzy with need. You surrendered yourself completely to his touch, you felt a primal connection forming between you, binding you together in a web of desire that defied all logic and reason. And as you savored the taste of him upon your lips, you knew that you belonged to him utterly and completely, your surrender a testament to the irresistible pull of his dominance.

With an air of unwavering confidence, Sukuna basked in your submission, relishing in the power he wielded over you. His gaze, smoldering with desire and dominance, held you captive, each glance a silent command that you willingly obeyed. As he felt you yield to his touch, a predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, his satisfaction evident in the way he savored your surrender. With a voice that dripped with authority, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he posed the question that hung between you like a tantalizing promise. “Che brava. Wanna make me feel good, piccola? Wanna taste something else?” he murmured, his words laced with a potent blend of desire and challenge.

With a silent nod, you affirmed your desire to delve deeper into the intoxicating dance of submission and dominance that bound you to Sukuna. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him lean back with a self-assured grace, his movements deliberate as he reached for the buckle of his pants. The sound of leather against metal echoed in the hushed room, each click and slide a symphony of anticipation. With each movement, the air seemed to crackle with an electrifying tension, the promise of what was to come hanging heavy between you like a veil of desire. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, a thrill of excitement surged through you. As you watched him bare himself before you, you knew that there was no turning back — you were his, body and soul, bound to him in a fiery embrace of passion and submission.

He was big. Bigger than you were used to. It was veiny, long, thick and circumcised. “Ti piace, piccola?” Him speaking Italian turned you on even more. It suited him – his aura, his appearance, his dominance.

With a mixture of trepidation and eagerness, you lowered yourself before Sukuna, your heart pounding in your chest with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. As you met his gaze, you found yourself ensnared by the raw intensity of his eyes, their smoldering depths fueling the flames of your arousal. With trembling hands, you traced the contours of his thighs, your touch a silent prayer for permission as you inched closer to your purpose. And when you felt the heat of him against your lips, a thrill surged through you, your mouth watering with a hunger that mirrored the primal need that pulsed within your veins.

“Brava piccola.” With a commanding yet tender touch, Sukuna threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements with a firm guidance that left you breathless with desire. As you wrapped your lips around his cock, you savored the taste of him upon your tongue. With each eager suck and swirl of your tongue, you sought to please him, your own pleasure intertwined with the intoxicating thrill of his approval. 

As the heat of passion consumed you, Sukuna's dominance surged to the forefront, his grip on your hair tightening with a commanding force as he pushed your head down onto him with an urgency that bordered on ferocity. He started fucking your face, with each rough thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your mouth, his movements guided by an insatiable hunger. The air was thick with the heady scent of your shared arousal, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with the wet, slick sounds of his cock going deep into your throat. In the depths of your submission your senses were overwhelmed by the dizzying whirlwind of pleasure and pain.

“Hmm…fuck, you feel perfect, piccola. Was made to suck my cock. Look at you, taking it in so good.”

With each forceful thrust, Sukuna primal desire surged forth, his movements a testament to the raw intensity of his need. As he plunged deeper into your mouth, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your senses drowning in the overwhelming tide of sensation. The taste of him upon your tongue was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and passion that left you trembling with desire. Suddenly he pulled you off his cock, leaving you out of breath, your cheeks soaked with your tears.

You lowered your head, licking and sucking his balls as you started to jerk him off simultaneously. As you lavished attention upon him, your mouth and hands working in tandem to pleasure him, he unleashed a torrent of dirty whispers that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

“My good little girl.”

“You’ll make daddy cum, piccola.”

“Fuck, makes me want to make you mine, principessa.”

His voice, low and husky with desire, filled the air with a symphony of erotic promises, each word a tantalizing invitation to delve deeper into the depths of the shared ecstasy. Your own desire surged to dizzying heights, your arousal palpable in the slick heat that pooled between your thighs.

As the crescendo of pleasure reached its peak, Sukuna's primal instincts surged forth, his release imminent and inevitable. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, he surrendered himself to the relentless tide of ecstasy, his body tensing with the force of his climax. In a torrent of raw passion, he came, his hot seed spilling forth, coating your face with its warmth. You gasped in surprise and ecstasy as you felt him release, your skin bathed in the sticky warmth of his essence. And as you looked up at him with eyes glazed with desire, you knew that in that moment, you had become a vessel for his pleasure, your own desires subservient to the intoxicating power of his dominance.

As Sukuna beheld the aftermath of his release, a smug grin spread across his lips, his satisfaction evident in the arrogant tilt of his chin. With a sense of ownership that bordered on arrogance, he surveyed you before him, your face adorned with the evidence of his dominance. His gaze lingered on the trails of his cum that glistened upon your skin, a testament to the primal power he wielded over you. With a low chuckle that reverberated through the room, he voiced his approval, relishing in the sight of his essence decorating your face like a badge of honor.

“Suits you, piccola. You look pretty with my cum all over your slutty face. Should take a picture as blackmail material.” For Sukuna, there was no greater pleasure than seeing his cum adorning your face, a physical manifestation of his power and control over you. He gazed upon you with a possessive gleam in his eyes, he knew that he had claimed you completely, body and soul, in a fiery embrace of dominance and submission.

With a swift and fluid motion, Sukuna straightened himself, the clink of his belt buckle punctuating the air as he secured it with a confident flick of his wrist. His movements were calculated and precise, every gesture a testament to the unwavering confidence that defined his persona. As he stood before you, your gaze lingered on him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his commanding presence. With a final glance, he bestowed upon you a smug smirk, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over you.

“Would love to fuck your sweet lil’ pussy right now but I still have some business to attend to, piccola. By the way, you have two more weeks for that money. Next time around it won’t end this way.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, his steps echoing in the quiet room with a sense of finality. His departure left a palpable void in his wake, a reminder of the fleeting nature of their passionate encounter. And as he disappeared into the shadows, you left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure you gave him. You knew that you would forever be under his spell, your desires forever entwined with his in a web of lust and submission. Though you did wish that he would have did something to you.

Just when you decided to play with yourself you heard your phone ring – a message from an unknown number.

Ciao piccola, wait for daddy. I’ll be back in two hours. I want your pussy to be soaking wet.

[cercandodiscrivere]

Stat vindicta potens | emperor geta x reader.

word count | 2.4k

warnings | 18+, NSFW, concubines, demeaning terms, dark themes (dubious consent, violence, blood, mentions of war), porn with too much plot, unbeta'd.

synopsis | When the twin Emperors had entered the room—filled with musicians and dancers and food you had dared not touch—you had stood as rigid as stone. It had been the same visceral feeling as when you had first seen the Romans approach your home: a deep, clawing desire not to be seen.

Except now, you had to be seen. You were part of the spectacle.

gifs by @batty4steddie

Stat vindicta potens, et adhuc crudelibus ausis respondet poena.

[Vengeance stands powerful, and still punishment answers to cruel deeds]

There had been no pain.

No.

There had been pain—so much that it constricted your lungs and scratched your throat—but not enough time to feel it.

Once, your father had praised the gods for his wealth, a fortune earned through the trade of fine goods; he had adorned you with corals and pearls, a living testament to his success.

Still adorned with the rich jewels he bought, you had walked into Rome wearing a stola stained with his blood.

You had thought an Emperor would choose his gifts himself—or rather, you had never thought about it at all, not until it was you who had been chosen.

It was a strange way to begin a new life: not through the predictable choices of your father, but through the whims of strangers in a far-off land. Your brothers, dead in battle, had been of no use to you as their wealth crumbled and the last of their possessions were taken. General Acacius had claimed what little was left—and he had gifted you to the Emperors. 

A token of friendship. 

A spoil of war.

Tuis nec parcitur umbris.

[Your shadows are not spared.]

Another servant had dressed you in a woolen tunic and had styled your hair.

You would have to learn how to do it yourself in time, she had warned, but first they had  to gauge your worth — after all, there would be no point in teaching anything to a gift that had no use.

"What should I do?" you had asked her. 

"Serve wine”. 

Dread had filled your loins as soon as you had set your eyes upon the imperial palatium. Shining in the sun, the marble stairs had welcomed you—not like the arms of a mother, but like the open doors of an adorned crypt.

It was then that you had come to understand another truth: General Acacius had been nothing more than a weapon wielded by others. When a sword cuts through your flesh, it’s not the blade you fear, but the pair of hands that guide it.

"How?" you had asked again, but she refused to answer.

Non impune feres: seris venit aspera pœnis retributio. 

[You will not bear it unpunished: a harsh retribution for your crimes will come in time.]

When the twin Emperors had entered the room—filled with musicians and dancers and food you had dared not touch—you had stood as rigid as stone. It had been the same visceral feeling as when you had first seen the Romans approach your home: a deep, clawing desire not to be seen.

Except now, you had to be seen. You were part of the spectacle.

You had served wine before—to your father, your brothers and their guests. You had poured before the same kind of deep red wine: but the hands that had to do it now had changed, and the weight of the eyes on you had pressed harder. 

You had approached your captors carefully, your gaze lowered in deference—but unseen, as they had sat on their adorned thrones, draped in robes of golds and reds, without sparing you a glance.

At the time, you had not known how to tell them apart; both could have been either Geta or Caracalla, as their names had meant nothing to the terror they equally inspired.

The first you poured wine to had ignored the cup, his attention fixed on the man seated to his left. Once, you might have sneered at the lack of a compliment - now, the gift of being nothing to him had washed over you like fresh air (but still stung like a silent mockery). To the man, it had been as though the wine had fallen into his goblet by the gods’ will alone.

Then, you had moved on to his brother — and instead his gaze had lingered, sharp and unwavering. 

"Is there a trick to it?" he had mused, his voice low, almost to himself. You had frozen in place, as still as the statues scattered around the room. For a moment, you had almost believed the Emperor had just asked you how to pour wine — and your gaze had flicked upward, an instinctive mistake. 

His face had surprised you: it was not an imposing man who owned you, not a fierce general or a quiet sage — but a rabid dog, sick and weak in his silks. His eyes, red-rimmed and glazed with white, remained unseeing.

"How does one keep something" he had murmured, "when it feels as if it may slip away at any moment?".

But yet again, it had not been you he had been asking. Was it treason to leave an emperor’s question unanswered, when he posed it to the air?

And then, through the suffocating fear, a streak of something darker had twisted in your chest—rage, hot and sudden. You had had men and women alike ingratiating themselves to you, hoping for nought but a smile: and now an ill animal, with his teeth stained in gold and spit and blood, could bite your neck and move on without a thought.

You had measured your words, then. "As the poet says, fortune is like the winds: fickle, but a friend to those who know how to steer."

And if he had truly understood the meaning of your words—that you did not think him a steerer, not a good one—you could have signed your death with feigned servitude. 

But the Emperor (Caracalla, as you would learn later) had just blinked and chuckled. Shrill and sharp, it had not been a laugh born of humor, but something else: as if he had found mirth in you speaking at all, not a thought spared to the words you had used.

He had then drunk from his goblet as if nothing had happened—and yet, seated next to him, his brother had heard and not laughed. 

Emperor Geta’s gaze had lingered on you: no amusement in his eyes, no warmth.

Fatis pendebis, ficta modestia. 

[You will hang by fate, with feigned modesty.]

You once thought an Emperor would choose his gifts himself—and that’s what Geta did with you.

No hope for burning passions, no overwhelming closeness: this time someone thought it fit to have you learn about your role, because a concubine must please more than a servant.

“You’re less talkative than before”.

Emperor Geta lounges on his lectus, cushions surrounding him. In the soft light filtering through the curtains, his ginger curls seem molten gold—a physical extension of his crown, a birthright to power.

Your started your private encounter like you had started the first: not draped in a rough wooden tunic, but still pouring wine into his cup.

You spent more than one night wondering what had caught his attention, and how he must have heard your exchange with his brother: and whether it was the words he understood, or the venom laced in them, the result still has you in his bedchambers.

“I don’t want to spill a drop” you lie.

He observes you pouring his wine as if it were a religious rite. You try not to care: you pour and pour —and by the time the cup is full, you have emptied your head of all the thoughts and the dread that filled you.

“You won’t” he says. It’s endearing, almost like a compliment, but not quite. “Drink with me.”

He’s not asking.

Drinking in front of him (taking a quick gulp that barely registers the taste) feels as much a part of the ritual as the wine he offers: a play to show you what he can give you, should you continue to play his game.

"How does it taste?”. Geta's voice is as soft as a caress: it’s unsettling, how sweet he is choosing to be. 

You stare down at the large goblet you just filled with thick, red liquid: wine, herbs, and honey—the kind you would have enjoyed in another life. "It's great."

"Only the best for us" he says—and you know, by instinct alone, that us means him and his brother. The remark almost makes you raise your goblet in a toast, but you fear it might come across as mocking. All the rage that Caracalla ignited in you, Geta suppresses with dread.

He watches you as you pass the goblet back, because he is always watching.

Your eyes, your chest, your hands. You know you barely look like your old self now—before purple silks and face paints and ornati crines. A shiver escapes you: if you had thought of his brother as a rabid dog, you don’t know how to describe the quiet madness behind Geta’s gaze.

A predatory smile twists his lips, the kind that reveals his teeth and narrows his eyes with a hint of delight. You try not to let any old rage show on your face, knowing he would easily pick it up—but every pass of his eyes screams satisfaction.

His head cocks to the side as he regards you. “Your lips are stained" he observes instead.

When he rises from the lectus, his movements are deliberate. Even in the privacy of his own rooms, servants dismissed and gone, he still carries himself as if an audience is present—so much so, you wonder what kind of untold he feels the need to hide in the presence of a concubine.

Emperor Geta pauses before you, and you let him taste the flavor of the wine off your lips. His kiss is almost too sweet—and his command comes next.

“Undress me”. 

Someone must have started the task, for he wears only a linen tunic; a servant must have helped him with that, while others lit the incense that now thickens the air in the room. It's an oily smell, suffocating—mixing poorly with whatever herbs had been added to the rich wine.

“As you wish, domine”. The term makes his eyes roll toward the drapes above your heads.

You know some concubines call Caracalla Carus as an endearing term. A bold young man had boasted to you how he called him regina once —going into detail about how much the Emperor liked it, though few had believed him.

You dare not try the same with his twin.

After the tunic falls to the ground with a soft thud, you let Geta guide you to sit on his bed. You let him undo the braids in your hair and take your own tunic off your shoulders; the multitude of bracelets and anklets he had his servants put on you stay on.

He does not turn you to face him when lays you down on the bed, as your own nails dig into your palms and his head bows low into your hair. 

You don't say no. You could not say no if you wanted to.

So when your knees are firm on the mattress, and you feel his weight behind you, you take the small liberty of parting your own legs. If he appreciates the gesture, he does not say: with a palm he pushes on your back until your bare chest is touching the linens, his hand sliding slowly back to your hips.

It is not the first time you’ve lain with a man — a stain on your pudicitia that your father would have abhorred, and one that Geta does not even question.

Your sigh is one of relief when you feel him push into you, because this is what you have been waiting for since you had been brought to his bedchambers: not the his little scene with the wine, not his feigned sweetness, not his long stares.

“I suppose that’s all what you wanted” he grunts, his lips caressing your collarbone. His hips trusts into you so hard that the anklets on your legs clash against each other, creating a soft  and clinking sound. 

Tink-tink-tink. You don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. 

The soft kisses he peppers behind your neck are nothing like the way he thrusts into you. As he moves you grip the pillows, the linens, your own arms—whatever you can find to steady yourself.

"This is what you wanted" he continues, his deep breaths coming out fast. “When he gifted you to us”.

Faster, he's going faster. The meaning of his words is not lost on you: that he may have taken your hatred for lust, your insult for a praise. That if Caracalla had shown the same interest he would have left you to him —because you were equally one’s and the other’s. 

But Caracalla hadn’t cared for a servant and her poets; and his twin was not one to let a good gift go to waste.

Your thighs squeeze around him —and even if you command yourself not to say a word, it’s like the small yes escapes on its own. Let him believe whatever he wants; let him give you thought and purpose, as long as he keeps moving. 

He growls his approval — and then he throws himself to the pillows that had been your anchor up until that moment, and pulls you on top of him. 

At this angle and lighting, he looks divine.

Everything about him turns to gold under the sunlight: it serves to remind you of what he is, and what his people allow him to do. You loathe how much you admire the view as you sink down onto him, cataloging all the ways the muscles in his face shift when he is lost in pleasure.

“You were such a good gift to us”. 

Your skin crawls at the praise and you push up on his chest, bringing your hips down quicker and quicker ad quicker. 

The lingering presence of Caracalla in the rooms — even if only through the us Geta keeps referring to—ignites you, and you are furious once again. The heat of it washes over your naked skin, waking you up from your subservient slumber. 

You feel Geta twitch within you as you slam into his hips one final time, his fingers sinking deep into your hips. You cherish that feeling: it’s sobering, for it means tomorrow you will still be alive—not as a servant but something more, the future the three Fates have woven for you clearer and clearer. 

As he comes and grunts, your thoughts wander. 

Geta on his knees, his throat slit. Blood gushing from him, as dark as the wine he had you taste.

Geta scared: you over him, not as an object of pleasure, but as the extension of Nemesis herself.

Geta powerless.

Geta defeated.

Geta enslaved—and it’s with that last thought, with that image, that you come.

Quis dabit exitio tantos, scelerate, triumphos?

[Who will give such triumphs for your destruction, wicked one?]

[sqtorux]

saying somethin' stupid like 'i love you'

fwb!gojo saying the forbidden L word during the deed ????

slightly nsfw, minors please don't interact. also fluff bc i miss gojo :(

not proof read !

thankyou so much for all the support on my recent ♡

satoru thinks you're so cruel. one minute you're holding onto him, nails digging into his back as if you needed him to live.

chanting his name so so beautifully as he trapped you between his bare body and the bed, relentlessly thrusting into you.

and then the next you were back to acting like even his mere existence irritated you. in a way it does but not in the way he thinks.

not once had you been there the morning after. only the crumpled sheets and your nail marks served as reminders that you were here, with him.

“gojo can you not-”

“that wasn't what you called me last night. what happened to toru?”

you glare daggers at him as one of his hand held your notebook high up. he was ridiculously tall and he liked abusing that privilege. especially against you.

“shut up” you walk past him without bothering to take your book.

“hey you mad baby?” he chuckled, getting in front of you, stopping you again.

“come on, answer me. why'd you leave? i thought we agreed to go to class together hmm?”

you roll your eyes at him and crossed your arms.

“that's what you said. i didn't agree.”

“aw you're too mean” he pouted as you scowl and try passing him again only to be stopped by his hand on your arm.

“i wanted you to stay.” his words were heavy, his face not showing even the slightest bit of his shit eating grin he always has on.

he turns to you, his round sunglasses were low on his nose and you could see his oh so beautiful eyes.

you look away because if you don't, you were pretty sure you'd be hypnotised and you'd do whatever he wanted.

“if you keep doing this i won't stay over anymore.” your words shot a painful jab at your own abdomen. his grip around you loosened slowly until he lets go completely.

“alright then.” he hands you your notebook, more like placed them into your arms as he walked away, eyes never meeting yours.

the next ‘sleepover’ took place three days after the banter with satoru. he hadn't called or texted the whole time but when you asked if he was up for it, he replied almost immediately.

so here you were again, him ramming into you as you cling onto his bare body for dear life. you could feel your climax coming as your grip grew tighter and tighter.

satoru was the same, chasing his high. he had missed you a lot the past three days but tried distancing himself just so his feelings for you would simmer down.

it only resulted him thinking about you all day and even more during the night. he finds himself wishing you were here with him, either giving you the pleasure you both agreed upon or just you laying down next to him. he didn't care.

he just wanted you to be there. with him.

and now that you are, his heart clenches the way you clench around him as the both of you cummed simultaneously.

he holds your body tight as you both work your way through the orgasm, euphoria rushing through both your veins.

“fuck y/n…” he groaned as he felt your grip loosen. he can't let you go just yet.

“i love you”

he hadn't meant to say it really. not like this at least.

“satoru we've been through this-” you push him weakly but he stays grounded, eyes boring into yours.

“i mean it.” he says, one of his hands found themselves caressing your cheeks as the other supported him while he hovered above you.

“you don't have to say it back or… feel it back…” satoru's voice was full of emotion.

“but just give me a chance to show you how much i love you. then we can work things out from there.”

you find yourself falling into the charms of gojo satoru. it's not everyday he offers his heart to someone. he doesn't offer it at all but now here he is, handing it to you on a silver platter.

“alright”

you could see satoru's face visibly light up and his blue eyes gleammed. he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“thankyou” he traced his fingers on your jaw, his touch so soft, so addicting.

“you better treat me like a princess” you chuckle as he physically melted at the sound.

“oh i plan to do exactly that, and more, lovely.” he leaned down to place another kiss on your lips.

[eli-com]

୧ *·˚ — JUDD BIRCH

୨୧ includes — poor writing, mature content, fem!reader, afab reader, innocent?reader, virgin!reader, p in v, loss of virginity, oral (f!receiving), praise, ooc!Judd, fingering, masterbation

➜ a continuation of this

— Judd was sure he’d finally gone crazy, finally reached that point of insanity where there was no going back. Many would have thought he’d reached that point a long time ago, but no; this was his rock bottom.

Hefty, deep pants filled the bedroom, the sound of slick movements vibrating off of his four walls. How long had he been at this now? How long had his veiny hand been dragging eagerly along his rock hard cock for? How many times had he come? He couldn’t remember when or how it had started — just that there was only one person to blame for the painful state he was in, and that person was you.

You and your adorable little moans, you and your perfect tits, you and that pretty pussy of yours. You, you, you! You were the only thing his mind could seem to focus on, every-time he closed his eyes another picture of you would appear, he’d found that his favourite so far was the memory of what you looked like above him when he had tongue ravaging your cunt, your lashes fluttering against those rosy cheeks, chest heaving with each breath, glossy lips parted and ever so tempting. He wondered what they’d look like wrapped around his cock, god how he wanted to find out. Would you be able to take his whole length in your mouth? He kind of hoped not; hoped that you’d struggle so he could watch as drool ran down your chin whilst you gagged pathetically, eyes welling up with tears. Fuck.

“Stupid bitch.” He’d groan out as his hips jerked up, another orgasm fast approaching, his hand movements getting sloppy. He’d fucked other girls before, plenty of other girls, but once the deed was done he never cared enough to spare them a second thought, so why would you not just fuck off and leave him alone? He’d lay in bed at night and sometimes he swore he could still hear you moaning his name, telling him how badly you needed him in that breathless voice that made his cock twitch. Maybe it was because somehow, you’d made him cum without even a touch to his groin, made the moody rebel embarrassed for the first time in his life. Or maybe it was because of that shy smile you’d given him when he’d walked you home that day, the way your arms wrapped around his torso when you gave him a quick hug before rushing into your house and locking yourself away from him. A choked moan would escape him as he felt himself release into his hand once again, sensitive red tip throbbing, whole body practically shaking as he threw his head back, brows scrunched together in ecstasy.

“She’s got you real good, huh?” That familiar raspy voice filled the room, causing the pale boy to curse under his breath as he calmed down from his high, eyes staring straight up at the ceiling above him that was covered in all kinds of marks; mostly from when he used to throw tantrums as a child and throw knives up into it, waiting to see which would fall first and imagining them landing on someone who had pissed him off recently — even as a child he’d always had his enemies. Although he did his best to ignore the annoying, needy call of his hormone monster, there was never any avoiding Maury, the furry creature leaning over him and offering a knowing grin. “What you thinking about?” He’d raise his brows comically. “You thinking about (y/n)? Thinking about her tits? Her ass? God, imagine the view of taking her from behind, wait, but then imagine taking her in missionary too, god you’d never get bored, would you? Bet you she’s flexible, think of all the positions you could try!” The sex-driven monster would drone on, now pacing around Judd’s room as the boy rolled his eyes and stood up, finally pulling his underwear back on after what he guessed had been at least an hour of ‘taking care of himself’.

“Don’t you have other horny freaks to bother? Get the hell out of my room.” He’d grumble as he threw on some grey jogging bottoms, letting them hang loosely on his hips as he made his way towards the door, looking forward to getting out of the stuffy room. However, his plan was soon paused when Maury jumped into his path, a look of concern on his face.

“Wait! Why cut this party short?! We can keep going — I’m sure you could come up with some more ideas on how you’d like to fuck (y/n)! Oh, what if you used a knife, think she’d like that? Bet she’d be into it, what do you think?” The monster was clearly excited, he’d never seen Judd so infatuated with someone before, it was new. Though, Judd didn’t seem to reciprocate the feeling, only offering a roll of his eyes as he passed the taller creature by, escaping into the hallway as his hormone monster finally took the hint and left him alone — Maury knew better than to pester Judd for too long.

He could already hear the excited chatter of his parents and sister as he descended the stairs, holding back a groan of annoyance at their chirpy tones; always so happy. The trio were gathered in the kitchen, his dad cooking whilst his mum and sister sat at the kitchen counter. His dad was the first to notice him, a joyful smile appearing on the older man’s lips as he extended his arms into the air with a spatula still in hand, making his way over to his eldest child in an attempt to trap him in a hug. Judd would grunt, brows furrowing in annoyance.

“Touch me and you’re dead, old man.” He’d threaten, voice especially hoarse, likely from his previous activities. His dad only nodded in response, backing up again, smile never faltering; he respected personal boundaries! His parents were always in a good mood, but something was off today, something was happening. “What’s got you freaks so enthusiastic?” Judd liked to feign disinterest when it came to most things, but sometimes his curious mind simply got the better of him.

“Your sister’s bringing a friend we’ve never met before over for a sleepover, isn’t that exciting! A new person to share our love with.” His dad would answer before anyone else even got the opportunity to open their mouths, he had always been a very excitable man. Judd could only roll his eyes at this, stepping over to the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. His sister was constantly having friends over, and most of them were desperate losers who threw themselves at him whenever Leah wasn’t looking.

“So what? They’ll probably see the way you act and run for the hills within the first ten minutes of being here.” A scoff would leave his lips as he brought the carton up to his mouth, beginning to drink the orange juice. Leah would grimace at this, muttering something about how she couldn’t touch that now, not wanting to share his bacteria. He’d grin, if there was one thing in this world he loved, it was pissing off his siblings.

“You shouldn’t be so negative, Judd!” His mother would scold, glaring at him momentarily before turning back to his sister. “(y/n) sounds like a lovely girl! I’m sure she won’t be one to judge, besides, I’ve ordered Nicky not to leave his room unless it’s something important and me and your father will be in our room enjoying each others company.” She’d reach over the counter, taking her husband’s hand into her own as the lovesick couple grinned at each other. Judd and Leah shared a look of disgust, immediately knowing what ‘enjoying each others company’ meant. However, after a short minute, something in Judd’s mind would switch on.

“(y/n)’s the one staying over?” Leah looked confused at his question, arms crossed over her chest as she analysed his dishevelled state. She could tell something was up with her brother, as much as he tried to hide most of his emotions, every so often he’d slip up. “How d’you know her? She’s in my grade.”

“We’re in the school choir together? Plus she’s popular, Judd; not that I’d expect you to know anything about that… Loads of people know her.” The blonde girl would answer, leaning forward onto the counter infront of her. Their parents were now watching the interaction, Diane eyeing her son with a curious grin.

“Are you close with her, Judd?” The ginger woman would tilt her head ever so gently to the side in question, clearly noting something was up with her son. Judd could tell she knew something had happened, his mum could figure him out in seconds without even a word from him. He could only glare at her, practically slamming the juice carton down onto the counter in front of him.

“No, too up her own ass.” He’d lie, him and his mother stuck in a tense staring contest as he watched her eyes cloud over with interest. However, it was soon interrupted with a scoff from Leah.

“As if she’d ever go near someone like you anyways.” Judd couldn’t help but grin at the irony of the comment, chuckling under his breath as he took one last swig of the orange juice before placing it back into the fridge. All his family could do was eye him in curiosity, clearly Diane was the only one who’d figured him out, even if she wasn’t sure just how far things had gotten; she knew something had happened. “Just don’t be a freak tonight and stay in your room like you always do, that’s all I ask.” Leah would plead, clasping her hands together in-front of her, seeming almost desperate.

The boy would offer a grunt in response, giving a nod before wondering off back upstairs towards the bathroom, ready to take a cold shower. “Why would I wanna be around you anyways?” He’d shout back.

— You’d arrived at the Birch home sooner than anyone had expected, adorned in a pretty white off the shoulder jumper and some bootcut blue jeans. Judd had spotted you exiting a car, awkwardly hugging the guy driving it before walking up to the door of his home. He hadn’t bothered going back downstairs yet, and in all honesty he wasn’t sure if he should. What would happen if he did go down there? Would you freak out? Would you act like he didn’t exist? He had no clue.

He’d had his dinner upstairs that night, sharing with his raccoons before they scurried off through his window, probably off to hunt for something to give him in return like they usually did. He’d shut the window behind them, grabbing his plate and exiting his room — it was around twelve AM by now, and he’d heard you and Leah go off to her room a few hours ago.

The house was silent and dark, white light of the kitchen flickering on as he flipped the switch before tossing his plate into the sink and beginning to pour himself a glass of water. Judd was always aware of his surroundings, so he immediately turned around in slight alarm when he heard bare feet padding against the kitchen tiles. There you stood in the doorway, now dressed in a vest and some plaid pyjama bottoms, clearly surprised to see him, nervousness already taking over your smaller frame.

“Sorry — didn’t know anyone was down here, just wanted a glass of water.” Your voice was so shaky, breathless. The air had quickly become tense, the two do you staring at each other as if afraid to say anything else. After a few moments he’d clear his throat, sliding the glass of water he’d made for himself over the counter towards you before turning back to make his own. You’d whisper a thank you as you took it into your hands, only receiving a grunt in return.

You hadn’t left after getting your drink, remaining stood by the counter as you sipped on your water. He’d grumble something under his breath before finally turning, his own glass of water in his hands as he leaned back against the sink, eyeing you over. He couldn’t help the way his eyes naturally gravitated over to your chest, tits poking out of the top of your vest as if to tease him, feeling his dick twitch in his sweatpants.

You weren’t stupid, you could see him eyeing you up, as if he hasn’t eaten for weeks and you were some kind of buffet that had been laid out for him. However, you simply didn’t have the guts to make a move, still unsure where you and Judd stood around each other. Sure, only a few days ago he’d had his mouth attached to your clit, fingers moving inside of you, but did that really mean anything? To you it did, but you knew Judd Birch — you knew how he didn’t want to be tied down, how he’d never slept with the same girl more than once, and although you hadn’t actually slept together, what if just making you fall apart on his hand was enough for him?

A naive part of you hoped that wasn’t the case, hoped that maybe he did like you, maybe what happened in that closet wasn’t just an ‘in-the-moment’ thing, but the realistic part of you knew better than that. That was why you didn’t allow yourself to think about it too much, drowning yourself in schoolwork and friends; but that could only last so long, and when you laid awake in bed at night, his face was the only thing you thought of. You’d tried to get yourself off, release the tension that had built up inside, but you just couldn’t — you could never reach the spots he did, never keep the right pace, it was all wrong.

“Where’s Leah?” You hadn’t been expecting him to keep talking to you once you’d gotten your water, imagining that he’d take his own drink and shove past you. But here he was, leaning against the counter behind him and staring at you as he waited for you to respond. Although he’d been previously eyeing you up, when Judd spoke he looked at you, not your chest or your ass — he looked you right in the eyes. Sure, it’s the bare minimum, but so many guys at school couldn’t even look you in the eyes, so this felt like something special.

“She fell asleep while we were watching a movie… Tried to wake her up but I guess once she’s out, she’s out.” You’d try joke, laughing nervously as you shrugged your shoulders, but Judd didn’t laugh along. Instead his face remained in the same stoic expression it always did, eyes glued to your own.

“Who’s the guy that dropped you off?” He’d ask. This surprised you, and you made no attempt to hide it in the way your brows raised, lips ever so slightly parted. Had Judd been watching you when you’d gotten here? This was the first time you’d seen him all day, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been somewhat disappointed at his lack of presence. It was embarrassing, but when Leah invited you over for a sleepover, the first thing you thought of was Judd — being in such close proximity with him again. Just being around him now had your stomach in knots.

“Felix?” You’d question, head tilted ever so slightly to the side in confusion. Judd would simply shrug; feigning disinterest. “He’s just a new friend… We were all studying over at his house and he offered to give me a lift.” Judd’s eyes would somewhat narrow as you spoke, his grip on the counter he was leaning on tightening, knuckles going white.

“You gonna fuck him?” His words almost had you choking on air, eyes blown wide as you placed your water down. Surely he was joking, teasing you for some strange reason? But you could see he was serious, see how his jaw tensed, how he placed his own glass down, muscular arms involuntarily flexing with each movement. He looked angry, jealous even.

“No? What… Where did that even come from? I hardly know the guy! He just offered to give me a ride here because it was a long walk.” You could feel your face turning a deep shade of red, voice shaking and throat suddenly dry. If things hadn’t felt tense before, they definitely did now. By now Judd had made his way around the island counter that stood between you both, one hand resting on the cold marble as he stared down at you, brows raised as if he didn’t believe you. “I’m serious! I’m not- you know I’m…” You’d trail off, eyes trained on the floor below you, suddenly too afraid to meet his eyes.

“He wants to fuck you, could see it when he looked at you.” He’d state in that monotone voice of his, some hair falling in-front of his now hooded eyes. The air between you both felt thick, and before you knew it he’d captured your chin between his finger and thumb, lifting your face up until your eyes met his. “You wanna fuck him too?” A shaky breath escaped your lips as you shook your head ‘no.’ A satisfied, cocky grin would appear on his lips for a quick moment before it was gone again. “Good girl…” His thumb would move to caress the side of your face, tracing over your cheekbone soothingly. “Been thinkin’ about you…” His hand made its way to your hair, fingers running through it before he was suddenly yanking on it, causing your head to fall back, now staring straight up at his face as it hovered over yours, a pained yelp leaving you. “D’you think about me?”

“Yes.” You’d whimper, taking in a deep breath and swallowing saliva in an attempt to soothe your throat. “Think about you all the time…” The words left your lips without a single thought behind them, but even if you lied Judd would be able to tell, and that would only piss him off more. “Cant help it.”

Judd couldn’t help the chuckle that left him at your pathetic tone, leaning ever so slightly closer so you could feel each breath that left him fan over your face. “What do you think about me, huh?” He’d dip his head so his nose would run along the side of your face, until his lips traced over the shell of your ear and he began to nibble on it, a sharp gasp leaving you as you tensed. “Think about me touching you?”

“Yes.” You couldn’t help the loud whine that left you when his lips travelled down to the column of your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin and eagerly nipping at it. “Think about your hands, they’re so pretty Judd.” He’d grin into your neck, hands moving to grip at your waist and pull your body closer to his own. They’d dip under the fabric of your pyjama pants and panties, thumbs rubbing over the skin of your hips as he bit harshly into your throat this time, a sensual moan leaving you. “Want more of you Judd… wasn’t enough before.”

He’d scoff, pulling away from your neck and admiring the red marks he’d left behind, imaging the bruises that were soon to appear. “Not enough? You think you deserve more?” His hands would slowly run up and down your hips and thighs before he was harshly grabbing at your ass, groping it between his fingers and causing you to whimper. “Greedy girl, huh?” He’d mock.

“Please…” Your voice was whiny and breathless, hands moving to cling onto the fabric of his vest, you felt as if your legs could give out at any moment. Before you could continue speaking, Judd had finally attached his lips to your own. The kiss was hot, fast-paced and desperate, teeth against teeth and tongues almost immediately invading each other’s mouths. His hands had hooked under your thighs and lifted you up to sit on the counter by now, and even through your pyjama bottoms you were able to feel how cold the marble was, but it was a nice contrast to how hot the rest of your body felt.

One of Judd’s hands would slide up to your neck, thumb running along the curve of your jaw as he pulled you closer into the kiss, your nose brushing against his — you were more confident this time, had a better idea of what you were doing, tilting your head softly to the side and running your own hands down his stomach until they reached the bottom of his vest. You’d begin to pull it off, separating from the kiss momentarily and carelessly throwing the material somewhere behind you. Judd of course took the opportunity to take your own shirt off, practically growling as he felt your nails rake over his chest.

Soon enough he’d pushed you back so you were now laying down on the counter, legs dangling off the edge as you stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving with each deep breath you took. You could feel Judd run his hands over your sides before he was reaching under you to unclasp your bra and toss it elsewhere along with the both of your shirts. The cold air of the kitchen had your nipples pebbling, Judd’s thumb brushing over one before he toyed with it between his fingers, causing you to let out a short sob as your back arched. He couldn’t get enough of how sensitive you were. His lips soon attached to one of your tits, teeth grazing over your nipple and tongue teasing it as his other hand groped at the other mound, making sure both got some attention. He’d continue to alternate, groans leaving him each time your hands tugged at his hair, those angelic sounds that left your lips making him grind his erection into the side of the kitchen counter, desperately searching for friction.

He’d begin to trail his kisses between the valley of your breasts before travelling lower towards your stomach and then to the skin just above the top of your pyjama pants. You waited with anxious breaths, staring down at him with those needy eyes, begging him to fuck you with just a look. “You want me to make you feel good?” He’d raise his pierced brow, hands now placed on either one of your thighs, holding your legs apart for him. You were soon nodding without a second thought, whines leaving you as you reached down to try pull off your own pyjama bottoms. He’d scoff with a grin, reaching a hand up to your heat and placing his hand over it before slowly applying pressure with his palm. “Right here?” He’d ask.

“Yes! Yes, please Judd — want all of you, want your mouth, your cock-” You were cut off by a harsh slap to your thigh, the skin surely already gaining a red hue, a sharp gasp leaving you. Judd was grinning, hand now caressing the area he’d slapped.

“Such naughty words coming from the princesses mouth; what would everyone else think if they heard the things you’re saying to me, huh?” He’d tilt his head to the side as he asked, not waiting for your answer as he began to pull your pyjama bottoms down, revealing the pretty pink lace panties you wore beneath them. Judd was eagerly leaning in, licking a stripe up your panties and groaning at the taste of your juices that had covered the thin material, the wet patch they’d left only getting darker and it mixed with his saliva. The gesture had you squirming, one of his hands placed onto your hip to hold you in place as the other held onto your thigh, keeping you spread wide for him as he hooked your legs over his shoulders.

By now he was practically making out with your clothed cunt, sucking on your cotton panties in an attempt to make the most of every drop of slick you’d left on them. You had to place a hand over your mouth to stop the sobs of pleasure that threatened to leave from travelling around the Birch household. His parents were right upstairs, Leah in her room asleep, and you were pretty sure his little brother was in his room too. Any of them could come downstairs and see you both, but for some reason that only seemed to add to your arousal.

Just as you felt that familiar knot begin to form in your stomach, Judd had stopped, pulling his mouth off of you and placing his hands on either side of your body on the counter, dark eyes staring at you lustfully. You were going to open your mouth to say something, but then his hands were grabbing you once again, dragging you back to the edge of the counter and leaning over you, harshly grinding the bulge that had formed in his sweatpants over your clothed pussy, the wet material staining his own. You could tell he was big just from that, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your back arched off of the counter. “Please, Judd I need it so bad, god, please.” You’d pant, and Judd would only hum in response.

“Gonna fuck you in my bed.” He’d state firmly, hooking his hands under your thighs as you sat up, lifting you off of the counter and into his arms, your legs hooking around his waist as you wound your arms around his neck. “Good girls deserve a bed, don’t they?” He’d question in that low tone that always somehow made your knees weak. You nodded along dumbly, simply overexcited at the idea of finally losing your virginity — and to Judd of all people.

He carried you up to his room pretty quickly, taking note of the clothes strewn across the kitchen and making a mental note to return for them later on. In a flash you were laying back on his bed, watching him slowly pull your panties off of you, placing the material onto his bedside table before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your clit, a tiny whimper vibrating in your throat. He’d laugh breathlessly into your cunt, inhaling your scent before finally attaching his lips to your clit and flicking his tongue over it, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked on the bud. You couldn’t help the way you aggressively yanked on his hair, causing him to let out a groan that vibrated against you and had you throwing your head back in pleasure, legs squeezing around his head as if fearful he’d pull away again. However, he made no move to stop you, as if he enjoyed being trapped between your legs, mouth attached to your cunt.

His fingers soon joined his mouth, running through your folds and collecting your juices before his thumb was circling around your entrance, hole clenching around nothing as it attempted to drag him inside. He didn’t wait long, soon inserting one finger into you and sighing at the way you tightened around his digit. He couldn’t fucking wait to be inside of you.

His finger set a steady pace as it moved, and soon enough a second one had joined it, both pumping in and out before curling to find that spongy spot that made your back arch and brows knit together, a guttural moan passing your lips as your body did it’s best to grind against his mouth and fingers. He’d run his tongue through your folds, collecting your juices and humming as he swallowed them. His fingers began to ever so slightly pick up their pace, twisting inside of you and causing your entire body to jolt and writhe on the blanket beneath you, your face contorted with pleasure and mouth agape as strings of moans left you. As if Judd could tell you were almost at your limit, he’d pull his mouth off of you, pace of his fingers slowing down and causing you to whine, eyes meeting his before dropping to watch the way his tongue darted out of his mouth to collect the juices covering his lips.

“You sure you think you can handle me?” He’d grin, leaning up to hover over you, placing short kisses over your breasts before he met your lips with his own, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “It’s okay to change your mind.” He’d mumble into your lips, and despite the intimacy of the situation, you could tell he was serious — he wanted to know you were sure.

You’d grind your hips up into his own in response, holding in your breathless giggles as you felt his hips instinctively buck into you, clothed groin pushing into your sensitive cunt and causing you to shudder with desire. “Yes, want this — want this with you.” You’d confirm, and immediately Judd was pulling his sweatpants down, revealing the lack of underwear underneath; he wouldn’t even admit to Maury how hard he’d gotten just from seeing you in his driveway earlier, immediately rushing off to his room to sort it out. One of the main reasons he hadn’t left his room was fear that he’d see you and get a painful erection in-front of his entire family…

You couldn’t help the gasp that left you at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny as it curved ever so slightly to the side. Although this was the only one you’d ever seen, you were sure he was thicker than average, just about the length you’d imagined too, tip an aggressive pink and already leaking pre-cum. You’d reach forward, thumb swiping some of the pre-cum off and bringing it into your mouth, the movement almost instinctive. Judd could only groan as he watched, quickly reaching over to his bedside table to grab a condom from the drawer, eagerly sliding it over himself.

Soon enough his own hand moving up to caress the side of your face as the other took hold of his length, prodding the tip against your entrance, the both of you moaning as you fluttered around nothing. Then he was moving forward, slowly sinking inside of you, brows furrowed as he tried to contain his pleasure, your velvety walls squeezing him and doing their best to pull him further in. “Fuck.” He’d mumble, eyes travelling back and forth between your face and your cunt, absorbed in the way your features morphed with pleasure as he moved.

“It’s too big…” You’d squeal, throwing your head back as your hands clamped down on his forearms, back arching off of the bed as you felt pain rise in your stomach. Tears would sting at your eyes, the stabbing pain spreading further. Judd would immediately stop moving, only making you whine as you continued to writhe below him.

“You want me to stop?” He’d move his hand up to your stomach, thumb running just over where he could see a slight bulge in your tummy, caressing the skin in a soothing manner. His other hand brushing your hair off of your forehead. You couldn’t help but think about how strange this was, you’d never seen Judd so caring… Well, not since your ‘moment’ in the school janitors closet. A warm feeling spread over you as you as you watched him stare down at you with more concern than you’d ever seen on him before in his eyes. Just that look had you shaking your head, hand reaching up to pull his head down to yours and connect your lips once again, the boy humming into your mouth.

“Don’t stop.” Before you’d even finished speaking, Judd has bottomed out in you, balls hitting your ass and tip just about poking at your cervix. The both of you took a moment to deeply breathe in sync, staring at each other as he now placed his arms on either side of your head, noses ever so slightly brushing against each other. It didn’t take long for that painful sting to disappear, and now you just felt full, beginning to grind your hips up in an attempt to create some friction. Judd would tightly grab at your hip, doing his best to hold himself back from moving inside of you. If he could have it his way he’d be pounding you into the mattress by now, not stopping until neither of you would be able to leave the bed, but he wanted this to be a good first time for you. “Please move…” You’d beg desperately. “Want you to move, wanna feel it.”

He’d start off slowly, languidly pulling out, a long moan leaving you, before he thrusted back in, muffling his own moan by biting down into your neck harshly, definitely leaving a mark behind. His fingers bruisingly dug into your skin, rubbing circles as he continued to move back and forth, gradually beginning to pick up his pace. He could feel you squeeze around him with each thrust, the way your body did its best to meet his thrusts. Before he knew it he felt his own release approaching, causing him to stop moving out of panic. “Shit, stop — fucking, stop fucking moving.” He’d grunt.

Your hips would stop their grinding movement against his, worried eyes staring up at him as his own closed, nose scrunching as if in pain. Concern immediately rose within you, had you done something wrong? Did he not like it? This was a stupid idea, why had you done this?-

As if sensing your concern, Judd would lean down and place a kiss to your nose, heavy breaths fanning over your face as he adjusted on his forearms. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s just, you’re so fucking tight, don’t wanna cum too early.” He’d pant against your cheek, placing another gentle kiss there before pulling away to look at you, reassurance in his eyes. “You’re doing so good, taking me perfectly, just relax.” He’d almost coo at you, one hand running through your hair before he slowly began to rock his hips again, shaft leisurely running against your walls, your back once again arching, face contorting with pleasure.

The veins that ran along his shaft caressed each crevice perfectly, as if you’d been made to fit him, tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each slow but harsh push. The two of you moved in sync, your own body more relaxed now, every so often giving him a gentle squeeze as you felt him twitch within you. Judd didn’t really moan, more often just letting out deep grunts and groans or uttering words of encouragement, face hard and focused, small beads of sweat dripping off of him. The moment was almost romantic, intimate, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes not daring to leave each others as your bodies moved as one. One of your hands would join his by the side of your head, fingers interlacing as his pace slowly began to speed up once again.

His hips were snapping into yours eagerly by now, desperately chasing your release as he watched you tense under him, your eyes closed, mouth agape as moans left one after another. This was just like what he’d imagined, if not better. He wanted to take in every pretty expression you had to offer, commit every sound you made to memory incase he didn’t get the chance to hear them again. He could feel his own high building up within him, but he was determined to get you there first, determined to watch you come undone beneath him again.

“Judd! ‘M gonna — gonna cum!…” You’d cry out, and he could feel you shaking beneath him. Before you knew it he’d placed his hands under your knees, pushing your legs up until they were either side of your head, the new position causing you to let out an almost pornographic moan, your head thrown back as the knot within your stomach grew tighter and tighter. The bed would creak with each harsh thrust, sounding as if it could give out at any moment. Within seconds you were coming undone around him, white pleasure clouding your vision as Judd kissed feverishly at your lips, continuing to grind into you as he chased his own high.

Soon enough he was joining you, a low grunt of your name being uttered from his lips as his pace faltered and slowed down, body dropping down on-top of yours. He’d place sloppy kisses along your jaw, hand travelling under your body as his fingers trailed along your spine, helping you to calm down as you whimpered into his ear, body hot and sensitive. The room was once again hot and stuffy, the two of you sweaty, skin sticking to each other as you wound your arms around his neck, enjoying the momentary bliss.

“Wear something that shows off your neck on Monday, want Patrick to see the marks I left on you.” He’d murmur into your skin, nose buried into your hair as he took in your scent, his own muscles relaxing as he pulled out of you, shuddering before throwing the condom into the trash can beside his bed. You could only let our breathless giggles in response, finding the venom in the way he said Patrick’s name amusing, shaking your head and gently slapping at his arm, causing him to growl into you.

You’d fallen asleep wrapped up in Judd’s arms that night, chest pressed tightly against his, nose buried into the crook of his neck as his chin sat on top of your head.

— Judd had rushed downstairs early the next morning, determined to pick up the items of clothing the two of you had previously abandoned before any of his family awoke. So far he’d found both vests, the two pieces located closer to the door, but your bra seemed to be nowhere in sight. Just when he stepped further into the kitchen, he’d spot his mother sat at the counter, a sly grin on her lips, your bra sitting on the marble.

“You’re up early, Judd… Got any plans today?” She’d ask coyly, head tilted to the side. She knew, and she knew he knew that she knew. He’d grunt, halting in-front of her as his eyes flickered between her and the pink bra on the counter.

“No, my friend just — left this the other day, dunno how it got here.” He’d grumble, quickly swiping the bra away and holding it along with the white vests in his hand. His mother would scoff, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of the coffee in her hands.

“Tell (y/n) I hope she enjoyed her stay — and let her know you’ll be driving her home.” She’d state as she watched her son turn away, his face red, fists clenched angrily. Of course he was going to drive you home, did his mom think he was some kind of player? Well, maybe he would be considered one in some terms, but no, he didn’t consider himself to be such a way… And he especially wouldn’t let you take yourself home after last nights events…

Soon enough he’d returned to his room, allowing you to get dressed, watching from his spot on his bed. He’d be lying if he said he was excited for you to leave, he’d enjoyed waking up and watching you sleep beside him, face relaxed, breaths calm. You’d stand awkwardly at the door once you were done, eyes meeting yours as an anxious smile pulled at your lips.

“I’ll see you later? I’m-” You’d trail off. “I’m excited for you to drive me home.” It sounded pathetic, but it was true, and Judd couldn’t help but agree, nodding to you and watching as you left, sneaking back towards Leah’s room in desperate hope she was still asleep. He’d throw his head back, willing sleep to overtake him, but it never came. Instead, thoughts of you popped into his mind, and once again he felt his pants tighten, a frustrated curse leaving his lips as his hand reached down towards his bulge.

[affableramen]

kinktober. their "donts"

mature content

wriothesley

wriothesley will never slap your face. ass - yes, pussy - yes. but it will never be your face.

being dominant everywhere and all the time. wriothesley likes being dominant but he also likes an active partner who will help him undress, pull his hair and even bounce on him during a cowgirl. he doesn’t really wanna be the person who does everything

neuvillette

neuvillette will never pull your hair without warnings. he loves letting you know what exactly he is going to do with you and this is his golden rule

quickies. neuvillette detests quickies. for him, if it’s rushed it is no longer an act of love but a deed. neuvillette prioritises emotions when it comes to having sex with you, and he won’t ever fuck you in order to simply ejaculate

pantalone

as much as he likes being rough, pantalone is a gentleman and will never force his kinks upon you. he won’t ever practise bdsm or other spicy things with you unless you give him complete consent and plan your safe words

choking. pantalone doesn’t like when his neck is suddenly touched, it’s related to one of his traumas from the past

tartaglia

tartaglia doesn’t do sex when he is after a fight. he feels exhausted, and he wouldn’t like to be sloppy with you. if you two are going to have sex, it’s supposed to be nice and hard, that’s how much tartaglia loves you

hair pulling. tartaglia doesn’t like sudden touch to his hair so he will ask you to refrain. but having you bite his lips and scratch his back is his guilty pleasure

dottore

mirrors. dottore doesn’t want to see his face during orgasm ‘cause he finds it too lewd and embarrassing

unprotected sex. dottore is very strict when it comes to condoms as he cares about you and your feminine health too much. he always has condoms for your encounters, and he will only come inside you if you try for children

capitano

dangerous kinks like impact play. capitano will never do that no matter how much you’d ask him to smack you, he is afraid his strength will break your bones into pieces. after all, he is a lot stronger than mortals

coming into your mouth when having oral. he always pushes your head away, he just finds it disgusting and doesn’t want to stain you

alhaitham

sex that is too rough or extreme. alhaitham is a person who values his peace above everything, and he evades being too thrilled at all times

calling you names. alhaitham prefers your name on his lips, besides he doesn’t like degrading in general

dainsleif

when you leave the bed earlier than him without warning. dainsleif might think that you were dissatisfied with something and that would frustrate him. you should let him know that you enjoyed the night as much as he did

when you are quiet. dainsleif is very quiet in sex himself so he asks you to be the loud one. it stimulates him even more, hence delivering sharper and deeper thrusts

baizhu

holding hands is very important for baizhu during sex. he wants to grasp his partner tightly while building the tension up. he wants to feel your skin, to sense how your fingers shake and scratch his own hand when he fucks you nice and deep

public sex. as a doctor he is aware of many bacteria living outside, so he’d prefer having you in his place, on the clean bed, instead of some forest against the tree

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Vow 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, arranged marriage, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!August Walker

Summary: your father’s murder leaves you in the hands of a dangerous man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The man is quiet. The villain. The boss. The groom. Your... husband. 

The vows were what you would find in a script. Nothing special. Just standard. Just going through the motions. And when he lifted the veil, his kiss was just as prescribed. That’s it. Your life is over and his is just beginning. 

Your hand is in his as he guides you from the hall. He takes you between the pews and out the tall doors. A shower of petals rain down on you as you come out into the sunlight. There’s a car waiting. The people around you are like actors on a screen. It’s all fake. This isn’t a happy day, this is business. 

The car door shuts on the other side of him and you’re closed in with this stranger. The stranger you’ll spend the rest of your life with. You know his name and his bad deeds, but nothing else. 

You fold your hands over the layers of the full skirt. He shifts as he pulls a fold of tulle from beneath him. You watch his large hand and tremble. 

“Sorry,” you breath and snatch the skirt so that it can’t overflow onto his lap. 

He catches your hand and you freeze. You lock up, bones aching, muscles clenched. He tugs on you. You let him draw you closer as you stare at his steely grip. He brings his other hand over to pet your knuckles. The softness of his touch makes you tingle. 

“You’re scared,” he states. It isn’t a question. He knows. “If you are loyal, you don’t need to be.” 

You nod, “yes, sir.” 

He huffs through his nose, “I am your husband.” 

You close your eyes and tempo your heartbeat, “what should I call you?” 

“You know my name.” 

“Walker.” 

“August,” he insists upon his first name. “Maybe one day, you will have something softer to call me.” 

“Maybe,” you shiver and he squeezes your hand. 

“Your father wrote his own fate, you will write yours,” he raises your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. “It doesn’t need to be the same.” 

You stare ahead. You can’t let yourself feel or you will feel everything. The fear, the grief, and even, the anger. Once they boil over, you will be lost. 

“I understand, August.” 

Another heavy exhale. 

“You will not act so cold in front of my men.” He takes your hand and forces your fingers open. “You will touch me with kindness.” He puts your palm to his cheek and leads you to cradle his face. His stubble pokes at your delicate gloves. “You will do so without my order. You will behave as a wife, so far as they are concerned. Let your father’s defiance die with him.” 

“I will not resist,” you tell him as much as yourself. 

“Goddamnit, look at me,” he says. 

You turn to look him in the face. The anger you expect is absent. He watches you placidly. Your fingers twitch and he leans into your touch. He takes your other hand and forces you to twist toward him. He leans in and before you can think, his lips are on yours. 

It is different than at the altar. Not just a peck, more. His lips part and his tongue flicks out along yours. He hums and you open your mouth. His hand creeps up the back of your neck and he locks you against him. His tongue invades your mouth and you squeak. 

He draws away and his eyes narrow, “better.” You’re unsure if he means it was better than before or that you need to do better.  

He lets you go and sits back against the seat. He closes his eyes as he pushes his shoulders wide. His feet are planted as he lingers in unspoken thought. You look at the driver then out the window. You turn back to him. 

You touch his sleeve and shimmy closer. He hums again. The tone assures you that you aren’t unwelcome. Play your part, fulfill your vow. That is all that needs to be done.  

This is more than you, there is your mother, and others beyond that. Those that were once loyal to your father. Those you called friends and family. Those who now walk the same tightrope. Those that have already fallen. 

The car stops. A flicker of panic strikes in your chest. The door opens from outside and he pulls you out with him. You keep one hand on your skirt and the other on his arm. He marches ahead. 

You enter the large building and wait in some room. He remains silent, pensive. You’re summoned and after a time. He fixes your arm to hook through his as you stand before the large doors. 

“Head up,” he girds before you enter. 

They watch you, just as before. You can hear them this time, whispering. You don’t look anywhere but ahead of you. He nods at the more notable guests. You will not doubt be met again with those faces through the night. 

He puts you ahead of him to climb onto the platform where the bride and groom’s table stands. He follows closely. He pulls a chair out but puts his hand to your back so you cannot sit. He sidles behind you. Instead, he sits with you, lifting you into his lap. 

You quiver again. Humiliation surges through you. This is his show of victory. He boasting. No, you will not just be beside him, you are his.