Hi! Here it is! The first two paragraphs should be in cursive, but Tumblr is picking a fight with me... 🤪
The letter that arrives is written in a slightly messy handwriting. It becomes a little hard to read sometimes, as the writer is overcome with excitement or some other strong feeling. It is, however, clear that they have tried to reign themselves in and write a somewhat readable text! There are little drawings, clearly made by somebody who can’t draw to save their life. One cat, mostly consisting of two cricles on top of each other, with a pair of triangular ears, sits at the top. The writer has added a small description beneath, helpfully pointing out that this is, indeed, a cat. Not a bear.
Further down is a drawing of something that looks like a small, round object with wheels. The explanation below it reads: ”This is Roku, our little cleaning robot. He is about the size of a few large plates stacked on top of each other, and he sucks up dustbunnies and dirt through a hole in his tummy. Alright, he doesn’t acutally have a tummy, but… anyway, there is a container inside him that collects the dirt., and whatever else gets sucked up. He has been known to try to eat socks, but they tend to get stuck in his ’mouth’. After he is done, you pick out the container and empty it in the dust bin. And Roku goes to his little docking place and gets some well-deserved electricity.”
Dear Anders,
Thank you for your letter! You have been very patient with my questions, and I really appreciate all the research that went into it. If you have any questions in return, I would be happy answer them as well as I can!
You told me Justice can sense something within the varterral? Weird! And interesting! What does it feel like? Hehe, while the thought of you and Hawke dragging a huge varterral into Kirkwall is very amusing, I agree that it may not be the best idea, especially if you want to not draw attention to yourselves. What if that Meredith found out? She would probably start ranting about blood magic. Again. She seems excessively fond of doing that. Plus, poor varterral! I bet being dragged around and dissected is very unpleasant.
I hear that Kirkwall is not a ”happy place” for mages, and that it has become even worse lately. I am so sorry! That blasted Rite of Tranquility should not be allowed, nor should the Rite of Annulment. And why are they referred to as rites, anyway? To give them some form of legitimacy? Religious sanction? That’s just… I don’t have words for what that is.
You expressed curiosity about the constructs and machines I mentioned earlier, so I thought I’d tell you about them. It is a topic that fascinates me, but I don’t fully understand these things myself – which is why explaining them is a challenge! I shall do my best, however, because I do think it might be interesting to you. In addition, I get to ramble on about one of my favourite topics! I just hope this doesn’t get too messy and confusing!
The first thing you need to know, is that our society is more or less built on technology and science – or what we perceive to be science. Magic has no place here, at least not within most of the scientific community. Phenomena that we deem ”paranormal” are often not taken seriously. It could be that magic exists, but perhaps in a different, less obvious form? One of our favourite religious icons walked on water, resurrected a dead man and healed another man's eyes with spit and dirt! Hm… Did Andraste perform miracles? If so, do you think that maybe she was a mage? Hehe, I am certain the Chantry would loooove that! I can’t help wondering, though. What is the difference between magic and miracles? What do you think?
So, constructs. You spoke of statues and trees that are able to move about thanks to magic? I would have loved to see that! Preferably without being attacked, though… Our constructs are powered by electricity. They are at least partly mechanical, built of metal among other things. Most of them are used for one, single purpose. One construct/machine may be created to clean floors, another to lift heavy objects or carry dangerous chemicals. But over the last fifty years or so, things have become less mechanical and more dependent on what we call AI; Artificial Intelligence.
So, what is AI? I suppose you could say that an AI is a man-made spirit, placed inside a construct or device. The spirit in question is given very precise and detailed instructions as to what to do and how to do it. This is called programming. A construct cannot perform tasks for which it hasn't been programmed, nor can it refuse to do what it has been created to do. Like a golem, it has to perform its function.
This is how we get machines that can make complicated calculations in a few seconds, dance, sing, answer questions, help healers perform surgery... But they are still often limitied to a few tasks. One goal is to create AIs for whom you don't have to write programs for everything, but who are capable of independent learning - much like us. This would make them more versatile.
There are some problems with all of this. How do we teach a machine about right and wrong? Constructs are ruled by logic, and they are often very intelligent, but they have no emotions, no empathy. (At least, that is what we think. Programming emotions is not something we are capable of, although I suppose they could be a biproduct?) Some constructs may look almost like people, and they can often mimic facial expressions, making it appear as though they have feelings. The question is perhaps if we would even be able to tell if one of them had genuine emotions? When does a construct become a sentient being? Or capable of feeling pain or unhappiness? This is something that worries me, because I don't want them to suffer. If we create a new race of beings, we are responsible for how they are treated. There is more than enough of cruelty and oppression here, and I understand it is the same in your society.
There is also the fact that development of AI has… speeded up. A great deal. We may be able to soon create AIs who are much more intelligent than us. How do we prevent them from just saying ”That’s it! You are a mess. We’ll take over now. Maybe keep you as pets, if you behave…”
In the story of She-Ra you may encounter constructs that are referred to as robots. Perhaps you already have? We use that word, too. It was first coined in a play about one hundred years ago ("R.U.R. :Rossum's Universal Robots" by Karel Čapek). Until then, the word automaton was common. It referred to a completely mechanical construct - all cogs, gears and levers. They had no will, no spirit, no intelligence.
The word robot is derived from the word "rabota" which means forced labour or slave. Delightful, eh? In the play mentioned, the constructs look like people, and were created out of flesh and blood, or similar substances. Because they have no emotions, they simply obey. Even if it kills them. Until they, one day, get ”souls”, namely self-awareness and emotions. This is when they decide to rebel. Which of course leads to genocide. Not depressing at all!
It is interesting how similar concepts, like slavery and abuse of power, are prevalent in so many cultures. As if that is just the way people are. Where I live now, an awakening is happening. People are becoming aware of the different forms of oppression that are taking place in our societies, and many are trying to make things better. The problem is, of course, that we may have very different opinions of how to make this world better! And there are people in power who want to keep things the way they are, which includes oppression of many different groups. It drives me crazy, to be honest. Please excuse me while I groan dramatically and bang my head on the table...
Please be careful! The thought of you or Merrill being caught is unbearable to me. Take care of each other, and be as safe as you can.
And I really hope that you get the chance to have a cat of your own soon!
Friendly regards,
AidanTheCryptid
PS: Why is the Fade so… green? I have been wondering this for a while!
An envelope arrives. Its wax seal has no symbol stamped into it this time, having been sent through more private and secure channels this time - as if there are thoughts and ideas in this letter that have to remain private. Inside, a letter is written with curved, beautiful letters, but with a handwriting that is uneven in size, spacing and even style (though it remains pretty). You can tell some of the writing was rushed, as if someone’s thoughts were moving quicker than their hand could write. Toward the end, the letters became significantly smaller. Someone almost ran out of parchment…
Hello again, AidanTheCryptid
I hope you’ve been well since sending your letter. I’m aware that it’s been a while since I received it. There were a lot of questions though and I wanted to give them all equal attention and research! I hope it’s okay, and that I’ve done them justice!
You’ve added some quite interesting descriptions and illustrations here on these creations that exist in your society. I thank you! It’s been a pleasure learning about them! You said I could ask questions, and I can honestly say I have a million. They all, however, root in the same issue – why would electricity make them work? Is it like blood to them? Would it… not hurt?
Alright, let’s crack on with your questions!
Continuing on the topic of the Varterral, explaining what Justice feels in its presence is… difficult. It’s not a singular feeling but it also is not a collection of feelings. I don’t think it’s a feeling mortals can feel? If it was something mortals could feel, the closest description for it would be ‘suspicion’. It is the voice in the back of our minds that bring paranoia to us when bending down in the dark to wash our face; the fear that something is behind us when our eyes are closed, that something wants to harm us only to see nothing there. Whatever spirit is summoned into the being of a Varterral is evidently not on good terms with Justice. He, however, doesn’t want to comment on it.
And yes! Now that you mention it, it would be a little weird dragging the entire body of a Varterral to Kirkwall… if not just because Meredith would most likely use this as the one excuse to evade any protection I still have within the city and capture me, but also because it would be highly awkward when the creature came back to life. My clinic is not big enough to house it as a pet! And it would make a rather poor pet too…
Indeed, Kirkwall is not a safe place anymore but if you ask me, and plenty of other people (including Guard-Captain Aveline), Kirkwall was never a particularly safe place. This doesn’t just include crime rates, which are pretty high, but also its history and heritage. Although it was only on the outskirts of the ancient Tevinter Empire, it was chosen as the heart of the slave trade in order to keep the large influx of new slaves away from the Archon (who many a slave had tried to pull an assassination on). The slave trade has coated Kirkwall’s history in blood, a heritage which is still evident in the many depictions of pained slaves within statues and street art here in the city (still present because even on this subject, the Chantry enjoys taking a laid back approach)… On top of that, the societal classes’ importance is extremely evident in the city’s layout. Darktown being basically on the same level as sewers says a lot when you remember this is where slaves were kept. Each layer within the city houses a different class of people. Even the Alienage is lowered down within Lowtown. And then high up on the rocks, as far away from Lowtown and Darktown as possible in both altitude and distance, you have Hightown (and funnily enough also the Red District! It always makes me laugh how lust is on the opposite side of Hightown from the Chantry). It’s not a safe place because there is no equality. Slavery still reigns, but just in the dark. The Gallows have turned from one slave trading area to another, openly approved by the Chantry. It is a mess… The only reason I stay here is because Hawke needs me… and some other, more personal reasons, I suppose.
As a mage in Kirkwall, though, times have never been more dangerous than they are now. This Rite of Tranquillity you ask of is indeed the main reason. As you suggested, the name derives from the Circle and the Templar’s religious foothold. It is, of course, a rather big procedure, and it is named a holy rite from those who offered the knowledge within the Chantry hierarchy. But the name is most certainly offered that of a holy one in order to rectify it in the eyes of the public, especially, perhaps, the part of the public which is less educated. If the public reads something religious, something within their minds immediately justifies it as good – I wish the Chantry could be so good that we can live with the purest of childish naivety and blindly follow their orders... That would be a good world indeed.
I have no doubt in my own mind that this is purely to make it marketable and justify the usage of such barbaric treatments. What if we were to treat mentally ill people the same? The brother of a templar knight suffering from melancholia and forced to be electrified to silence his mind from any thoughts, both good and evil, just so no one has to suffer treating him, mushing his brain into nothing so he becomes calm – all to avoid execution of a difficult patient… Or doing such a thing to a poor bugger suffering from PTSD from war… No… That is inhumane. But a mage who gets unruly? Whatever ‘unruly’ might mean in Kirkwall… No, let’s mush their brains to keep control over them.
I cannot say what the right treatment is for someone who suffers from temptations by demons, just as I as a healer cannot say what the right treatment is for someone with a split mind. There are things too difficult to treat even with magic… but by the Maker, at least a possession can be cured albeit it difficult.
I shouldn’t place the plight of mages on the same level as the plight of the mentally ill though. No one plight can be compared. That would treat them unfairly and assume one is worse than the other, or has more importance within society. All plights are important. Justice is deserved for all. The only reason I compared here, is to make a point because I do believe that those who aren’t born of magic cannot fathom what we are put through. But we all, in some way, have suffered from mental illness and can draw understanding from it.
I digress… we should continue with your questions.
Your following questions are about Andraste… It’s interesting to hear of your religion which differs quite from ours (spit? … seems a little unhealthy). As an Andrastian myself, I of course am a little biased, but although the elf is annoying and rude at times, there is one thing to learn from Fenris’ approach to people: all cultures are equal. I’ve learned over the years that religion stems from miraculous events that happened in our pasts, and who is to say that any one is wrong or right? I think they all are right, somehow fitting into a puzzle that together tells more about what happened in the past than any one artefact does. My comfort, however, comes from Andraste, and so I was happy to hear you mention her. Do I personally believe that she was a mage…? Perhaps… The Imperial Chantry believes she was, and of course that makes them the enemy and not just people who realize that sometimes miracles are just… magic. The miracles that we are told Andraste managed are rather big ones, nothing as personal and important as healing injured ones as far as I know. The Chantry explains them as being natural disasters, despite people thinking them to be miracles at the time. Perhaps this is done because in reading that people thought they were miracles we can assume one thing: Andraste was not a mage. But whether this is nothing more but one way to read the legends, or whether the Chantry does not want to admit Andraste had magic and the Tevenes have it right… I can’t say.
I personally think it would be great if Andraste was a mage so that we had some stories of mages that did not conclude with them being the reason for something bad in our lives. But it would also be great if she indeed had such a connection with the Maker that she could perform miracles without magic. After all, to answer your other question on this topic, I believe miracles and magic are both intertwined and not, as a miracle can be with or without magic. A miracle is a meant-to-be good fortune to one, or a group of people. Does magic play a part? It can. But it can be as simple as a person being where they needed to be for something good to happen, or a healing spell to work better than expected. The intervention of Gods can be this small, or as big as earthquakes summoned by Andraste. The line is fine, if you ask me, but it’s an interesting subject to think about!
You proceeded to talk about these creations feeding off of electricity that exist in your world, and I was so transfixed reading this that I missed my assistant calling for help until she tapped my shoulder and scared me. Truly, again, thank you for writing about it as… difficult it is for me to wrap my head around it. I will endeavour to add some comments to some of the very interesting discussions that exist in your society, despite having 0 knowledge of anything… so take this all with a pinch of salt, please:
You mean a goal concerning these… AIs… would be to have them be… birthed as a biological creation with a mind and soul of their own? What an… interesting concept. A little frightening, of course, as most of us become versatile and socialised from the people we’re surrounded with. Surround such a newborn AI with the wrong people, and you might indeed stumble upon an AI with negative views on life – not to mention that each culture has their own variations on right and wrong, so how would one choose which culture it starts out in? Would you have to choose which culture is the more ‘right’? That seems highly unlikely to be fair. But letting them stay in a completely neutral zone is impossible too as someone has to choose what is neutral, and there will still be a bias. This is indeed a very intricate issue. I don’t envy you have this in your society, I must admit.
On the subject of then creating emotions and the limit of pushing them to potentially get hurt… I once had a patient here in Kirkwall who came in claiming to want me to take a look at a bruise. As I examined them, I found out this was not just a bruise, but three broken ribs. They had also dislocated their shoulder, upon which they declared “I was wondering why my arm felt off”. No pain. No matter what I did, poked and prodded (without pushing what I know to be human limits, mind you) the patient did not feel any pain. It’s uncommon, but it happens. The question on suffering physically therefore seems easy – if you have these… beings… mimic the bodies of those with these rare conditions, they will never feel pain – but then how will they know where their limits are? This patient would have happily continued to live with broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, causing irreversible damage to his body over time. The same can be said for the mind. How do you know something is wrong without feeling the repercussions in terms of sadness, stress, anger, depression? We might not want out children to suffer, but if they never express or feel pain, how do we know they have not reached a limit of their own? Or that we have pushed their limits? The beauty of life cannot be felt without knowing the other side too. Light doesn’t exist with dark – as Hawke loves telling me when I feel down. I do hate them for it, but it is true. The true fear, I think, is in having to rely on mankind to listen to these AIs expressing their pain. That, I think, is the difficult part, as pessimistic as it sounds.
Of course, though, these are just my thoughts completely biased on the knowledge I have from my own society – which seems a little limited now that I have heard of yours!
As I am running out of parchment (perhaps this is a sign for me to shut up), I will have to stop this here before I write an entire novel on this AI topic.
I thank you for your worries. We will all endeavour to be as careful as we possibly can under the watchful gazes of the Templars. And, you know, I set aside some milk and have officially already seen some cats sneaking around for more. I might not own one officially, but I can pretend I do this way!
Now, you stay safe too. Keep healthy and hydrated.
Kind regards,
Anders
PS.
Your question on the Fade was quite interesting… It is the weakened Veil which has the characteristic green hue, but even when in the Fade, there is an unmistakeably green aura to everything around you – but it is easy to miss if you are not actively aware you are in the Fade, or if a demon’s temptation is blinding you. I have been acquainted with the Fade for so long now that it has become the norm to me, and I can’t see it being any other colour. Scientifically, I have no idea why the Fade is green, nor have I read any scholars of the Fade write about it. Maybe spots of weakened Veil enlightens the Fade? But then the question remains why that doesn’t illuminate our world too...
On a personal level… the colour speaks of despair, nausea and temptation to me… as well as a grief of something that once was. Justice has no answer either, offering only the rather useless comment of “I had no idea what green was”. Studying the Fade is difficult without entering, dreaming and wandering. Justice forbids me to do so. He doesn’t trust I have the resistance to come back… ☹ Rather rude.
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++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘
[summary] wrio’s spouse winds up in prison. special treatment ensues.
[cws] gender neutral reader. fluff.
“What you did was incredibly stupid.”
“I’d like to think it was very brave, actually.” You quip back, lips pursed as you turn up your chin. “You should be proud of me, really.”
“I should be proud that you got yourself thrown in prison?” You don’t have to look up to know that Wriothesley is sporting an incredulous expression. “Did they knock your head around a bit before bringing you down here?”
“You’re acting like I murdered someone.” You finally meet his gaze, and you resist the urge to sink down into your seat at the clear disapproval in his eyes. “All I did was—”
“Break into the Opera Epiclese and destroy government property.”
“That’s such a trumped-up charge!” You huff and roughly cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you think back on the charges that had been slapped down onto you by that damned archon. “You trip in the dark and accidentally fall into the oratrice and all of a sudden you’re a criminal. Hmph!”
“Yeah, exactly. It also doesn’t help that you broke in—”
“—I left my bracelet in there after the trial! Was I just supposed to leave it behind and potentially lose it forever? The condition of the lost and found in that place is downright terrible—the guards pocket all the good stuff.”
“You could have bought another one.”
“Not like this one.” You look down to the gray bracelet encircling your wrist, and a warmth spreads in your chest as you gently twist it around, finger rubbing over the messily written engraving on the inside of it. “This was a gift.”
“Hardly.” He sighs, and your eyes flick up to watch as he runs his hands through his already messy hair. “It’s just scrap metal I bent up and welded because I couldn��t buy you proper jewelry back when I was a prisoner.” It’s his turn to look at the bracelet.
“You were so creative back then.” You smile a bit wider. “I remember you used to have something new made every time I came to visit you. What was that one thing you made? The one that we painted together?”
“The ballerina music box.” He groaned, looking a bit embarrassed, and you snapped your fingers.
“The ballerina music box!” The ballerina was a bit oddly shaped, and the box had sharp corners on one side and rounded on the other, and the song the box played was distorted and sounded more creepy than relaxing due to some disfigured cogs, but you loved it nonetheless, and had even sobbed in thanks when he had first presented the gift to you. “I love that little box.”
“It looks like a child made it.”
“A child in the throes of eleazar, yes,” you nod, and his mouth opens a bit in surprise before he huffs out a laugh. “But I still love it… because you made it.” You give him a sweet smile, and you can see him soften up before your very own eyes; broad shoulders losing that rigidness, lids lowering, crease between his dark, thick brows disappearing.
“You’re tryin’ to butter me up.”
“Mhm,” you nod. “Is it working?”
“Not at all, jailbird.” He gives you a smile of his own, and despite the clear sarcasm in it, you can’t help the little flutter your heart does at the sight. “No special treatment for you.” So he says, yet he had placed a cup of tea down for you the moment you were brought to his office, and had even tried to inconspicuously nudge the basket of cookies in your direction, pretending not to notice when you reached for one. “Spouse or not.”
“What a mean man.” You slouch down in your seat. “I treasure the gifts that my lovely, amazing, strong, handsome, and so so so incredibly smart husband gives me and what do I get in return? A criminal record and unfair treatment! I’m suing the entire nation the moment I’m free!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand in the air as if fanning away the conversation, and now it’s your turn to huff. “For the few days that you’re here, you’ll be working directly with me in exchange for coupons.” He takes a slow sip of his tea, adams apple bobbing as he swallows, before gently setting the cup back down onto its small plate. “I’ll make your first job real easy to get you in the swing of things.”
“How kind of you.”
He just barely contains an amused smile. “Very. Now…” He shifts in his seat. “Give me a kiss.”
“I’m married, Your Grace.”
“I’m sure your husband won’t mind. Kiss. Now.” He taps a finger against his lips, and after a moment you stand up and round his desk, hands finding his shoulders as you bend at the waist so your noses brush.
“My husband is a very good fighter, by the way. When he finds out you twisted his spouses’s arm like this, he’ll pummel you.”
“I can handle him.” A hand snags you by the waist, forcing you down into his lap, and you only have time to let out a quiet yelp before Wriothesley’s lips are on yours. The kiss is slow, sensual, and it brings a warmth to your cheeks and covers you with a bashful cloak when he pulls back to let his eyes roam over your face. “I’ve gotta say… your husband is a real lucky guy to snatch up someone as cute as you.”
“Hmph. Seems like you’re trying to butter me up now.”
“Is it working?” He presses his face into your neck, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin, and you have to fight back one of your own.
“Not at all, jailbird.”
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ah-ah, barbie, you're so fine! ๋࣭ ⭑
special treatment : thighs edition
☾₊‧⁺...ft. : kamo choso + itadori yuuji + higuruma hiromi + ryomen sukuna
☾₊‧⁺...cw : pussy eating, facesitting, somnophilia, dirty talk, fingerfucking, overstimulation, praise kink, degradation, desperation, oral fixation, squirting, creampie, choso being whiny, yuuji being a little shit, yuuji is 21yrs & a college student, hiromi being pussydrunk, sukuna being whipped
✧ k. choso : poor choso, ever since the first time he's gotten a taste of what's between your thighs, he's begging you every day just to eat your cunt. but today? today must be a bad day, because choso is desperate. his already between your thighs, whimpering and whining as he mouths at you through your underwear, tears in his eyes as he begs you to give him a little taste. once you do, his eyes are rolling back just from the first lick.
"you taste so good, fuck, so good, thank you, thank you, mmph, so delicious, i can't get enough."
"can you cum again? i know it's been 4 times already, but please? please, please, pleaase, pretty thing, i need itttt..."
"oh my goddd, you're cumming? yes, yes, cum on my tongue, pretty please, i'll fuck you so good after, just keep cumming, don't hold back."
"stop-stop running away, i know your pretty pussy is all sensitive b-but i just, i can't stop...but you know you can say the safeword and i'll stop, right? ...what? you-you like being overstimulated...? fuck, fuck, okay, let me make you squirt on my tongue then i'll fuck you good, okay?"
✧ i. yuuji : yuuji's always been a smug little shit whenever it came to teasing you. what starts off with him tickling you and blowing raspberries into your stomach turns nto hot kisses against your stomach that let down to the waistband of your underwear as he pushes your shirt up higher on your body. he can't help but grin up at you when he notices the wet spot on your panties from his little kisses.
"d'awww, bunny, y'so cute! look at how wet you are. is that 'cus of me? ehehe, i know, i know, teasing is mean, but i can't help it...you're just so adorable."
"y'know i can practically feel your heartbeat whenever i kiss it? mhm, i can feel that, pretty girl. don't cover your face, baby, you're so cute!"
"your thighs are so soft. i could stay between here forever, fuck goin' to classes or missions, i'd rather just eat you out until you pass out."
"open up these legs a little more, let me get my fingers in there...thereeee we go, such a pretty lil' bun, aren't you?"
"you're so messy! did i do this to you? yeah? aww, my pretty girl likes meee! i felt how you squeezed on my fingers! so cute!
✧ h. hiromi : ever since you made a comment about his nose, saying 'doja is right about big noses' in passing to him, hiromi has been curious. curious enough to the point where he looks it up, seeing the video of said woman. so, you wanted to sit on his face and grind on his nose, hm? you've never sat on his face before but he was sure to change that.
"i don't care if you think i'll die, i want you to sit on my face. i'm giving you the chance to either have control of your pace or let me do what i want with you. so, what's your decision?"
"see? it's not that bad, angel, you forget your husband isn't some weakling...now c'mon on, get yourself right over my mouth, let me taste you."
"god, you're so beautiful like this. i need you on my face more often, you're dripping all over my mouth...such a good girl for me."
"heh...i knew you said my nose was perfect for sitting on but i didn't realize it would get you this riled up. go ahead, sweet thing, you can keep grinding that clit on it...just like that, just let me make you feel good."
"good lord, i never wanna leave between your thighs. so fucking sweet, shit, angel, you've got me wrapped around that pretty finger. c'mon, let me devour you all night, i'll let you get up when i'm done."
✧ r. sukuna : getting sukuna to lay on his back without him instantly taking control of the situation was easier than you thought. hell, even crawling up higher so that you were hovering over his face was too. but little did you know, sukuna was intrigued, liking the side of you where you would just take control of him, knowing that only you had the right to do that...especially if it meant he got to eat you until you soaked his face.
"you know i should kill you for thinking you can just sit on my face like i'm some kind of personal chair. i am the king of curses, not a piece of furniture...what? ...hm. i guess you do look...good over me like this."
"...huh? sorry, i wasn't listening. when are you going to sit on my face? you keep blabbering, but i can see the way that sticky cunt is dripping for me. are you gonna just let it go to waste?"
"oh. shit. you've been holdin' out on me, haven't you, diamond? shit, i can see all of you from down here...nah, keep grinding on my face, little one, use me for your pleasure...let me see you cum on my mouth."
"such a fucking slut. my mouth is coated in your cum, but you still wanna keep going? my tongue that good for you?"
"no, no, i'm not letting you back down until you beg, diamond. tell me how badly you want me to fuck your pussy with my tongue...hm. good enough."
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