#reminder jjk

[soyochii]

2am satosugu if you even care🙄

[saintobio]

LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ THIS SERIES WILL SERVE AS THE THE SECOND TIMELINE -> READ HERE FOR THE FIRST TIMELINE (ORIGINAL STORY) ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE 

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate! 

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes. 

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?” 

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?” 

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince. 

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?” 

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?” 

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

[bet-on-me-13]

You know how the sky changes color when Danny transforms?

So! This is just something that came to me literally 5 seconds ago.

When Danny Transforms, the Sky and color pallet of the world around him changes as well right? The Sky turns Green, and the buildings turn Purple and the such, and I like to think that the everyone feels a sense of Death when it happens.

Now imagine this scene.

Danny had moved to Gotham, and he was making sure to stay under the Radar. He didn't want to reveal that he was a Ghost, since the GIW was still semi active.

But right now, he was about to he attacked by Joker, so he really didn't have a choice.

He transformed.

The sky turned green, the buildings turned purple, and everyone in the vicinity felt a sense of pure Death in the area.

Off to the side, one of the Bats saw that, and mumbled to themselves, "Oh my God, he has a Domain Expansion."

[thundersbugs]

miffy pancakes for breakfast ^_^

[gojosbf]

when they said

he said

ladies gentlemen and my non binary pals, once again I am here to remind you why yuji will always be the protagonist and our best boy.

the way it did not even take him 5 secs to recognise her. and he doesn't care. he's just like oh hi <3 I LOVE HIM

[ohnococo]

Love Potion | Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna shows a hidden side of himself, thanks to Uraume’s interference

❦ WC: 2.7k

❦ Warnings: Love potions/love spell, fem bodied reader (no pronouns stated, true form sukuna, heian era, light body worship (reader receiving), porn with very loose plot, vaginal sex, creampie, love confessions

Sukuna doesn’t know what’s happening to him. His limbs are heavy, his head is spinning, and he’s moving so, so slowly despite the adrenaline coursing through him and forcing his heart to stomp out a fast beat.

One moment he’s indulging in another of Uraume’s carefully prepared meals, the next he’s dragging his heavy feet through the halls, seeking out the only thing that could soothe the tightly clenched fist that pounds away inside of his chest. His lower arms hang at his sides, the upper ones groping uselessly at the walls, as if his body were warning him that every little thought that he’d buried deep in the back of his mind with all the other things that had no use to him was on the tip of his tongue, threatening to escape.

Because he knew where his body was carrying him from the moment he’d realised he was standing. He’s tread this path many times, it’s one leading to you, his favourite plaything. He treads this path when he’s hungry, looking for your body to indulge him. He treads this path when he needs another pretty thing to drape across himself as warlords and sorcerers alike bore him with their paltry offerings. He even treads this path when he feels his favour towards you is becoming too obvious, but if he has chosen to turn his attention elsewhere he will still will his large body to move silently enough to watch you through your cracked door as you preen and slumber and lie in wait for only him.

This time he knows that something has caused him to lose his thick armour of control over his mind and body alike. As his feet move against his will he wonders, had some unknown curse been sent his way, or attached itself to him upon his return? Had some sorcerer managed to apply some technique to have him acting recklessly, risking it all, and he would be left with everything he’d built ruined once he’d finished up whatever his body needed from you in this moment?

Because his body does need you. It had needed you from the moment he’d last left you, it had needed you every time he went to someone else to satisfy his hedonistic urges. But no, he thinks, he has no desire to start challenges unfitting, no desire to claim that which is not yet ready to be his by way of encroaching upon territories unavailable to even him. His only desire is you.

As he finally reaches the door to your room, it comes to him then. The drink Uraume had insisted he have alongside his meal, metallic and bitter, but able to wash sustenance down all the same. Some spell must have been put upon that drink, and it’s led him here. With all of his wondering if he was being too soft on you for his reputation’s sake, he had failed to consider he was being too soft on Uraume. Soft enough to allow them to meddle in things which did not concern them, things Sukuna often wished did not concern him too.

That’s a matter for another time though, as his head pounds with his blood’s attempts to decide where it should be sent to, because his cock was already alert, as if it were a compass pointing him in your direction. And his face and chest alike are tinted pink with a blush betraying the feelings plaguing his mind and overtaking his consideration of why and how this was all happening.

Once the door is opened, and his eyes are on you, he isn’t thinking about anything at all, he’s just letting his body do what it so badly needs to, as if he’s in a trance.

“Lord Sukuna!” You’re quick as ever, sliding off of your bed to settle onto your knees, prostrate on the floor for your Lord.

His blood rushes so quickly he can hardly hear you, but the image of you before him, in a perfect dogeza, makes his head spin. He falls to his knees in front of you, waiting for you to look at him with your adoring eyes, but you know better. You know so much when it comes to him, though with everything his body was screaming for him to do you may just find out something new.

Eventually, just as your body tenses and shivers with a chill of uncertainty about his intentions in crouching before you and watching instead of doing, as he generally did, it’s he who moves you. He lifts you by your shoulders, crawling forward on all fours and nearly toppling you backwards in a bid to take up any space dividing you. It’s unlike him to lower himself to your level, and he can see an attempt to hide your confusion at seeing him on his knees like this. You let him move you, only adding enough stiffness to your body to stay upright until you’re propping yourself up with your hands behind you. Sukuna gets low enough, in what one could mistake as a bow of his own until he’s pressing kisses to the tops of your feet.

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this now of all times, and in a manner that could almost be construed as submissive. Usually this was an action meant for highly specific occasions: when your legs are up and he’s been fucking you until you hardly know where you are or what’s happening, when he bends his head just low enough to press a kiss to the arch of your feet, eyes on you in case you come to from your sweating, drooling state of overwhelm and see the odd slip of tenderness he bides his time for.

But now, your feet were the first thing his eyes locked onto once he had hit the ground before you. So he does what his body calls for without a second thought. It’s odd, soft even, until he wraps his hand around your ankle and sits back on his haunches as he kisses at the ball of your foot. Having your leg lifted up so high forces you to lie back fully, and Sukuna is pulled to close one set of eyes with the relief of finally touching you, while the other watches how your hair splays out on the floor below. The view of your chest rising and falling quicker moves his focus to your body as he kisses at your ankle, indulging in you even as his chest screams for him to erase the remaining space between you so he can be close enough to hear your breaths over his pounding heart.

He makes a steady path of kisses up your legs, yet another distraction of desire arising as he’s torn between the call of your softly parted lips letting out gentle sighs and the smell of your heat as you become ready for him as is your duty. His hands move to grope at your body, kneading at your calves, your thighs, your hips. The way you twitch in his grasp assures him of your readiness for him to latch onto your pussy.

It’s presented so needily to him as he spreads it and sees the glistening wetness awaiting him. Being so lucky as to have Ryomen Sukuna between your legs always results in his making a vicious and unrelenting move to have you screaming from his actions until you were crying and trembling and too sore for what would surely come after. You’ve come to expect this when he dips between your thighs, and he’s come to find a hidden level of appreciation in giving it.

Then he shocks himself as much as he does you when instead, he presses a kiss to your mound, drawn in by the scent and softness of your hair more than anything. It’s gentle, chaste, and he buries his nose into the hair there, breathing deeply and trembling slightly as he releases that breath hot and heavy through his mouth. He opens wide, as if he means to finally dive in as you’d both been anticipating, but only presses his lips there and breathes you in, as if he could taste your essence just from having his mouth so near. He nuzzles at the soft hair again, before sliding his nose upwards until he’s kissing at your hip.

His path makes another diversion as he moves further and his tongue circles your belly button. It sends a shiver through you, before he’s returning to making his way up your body, scooping you off of the floor and onto his lap as he does. Kisses and touches alike are soft enough that you’re covered in goosebumps, nipples hardened and body already preparing for him to sink you down on him. Instead, he only holds you close, rocking back and forth gently as he buries his face between your breasts and slides your open robe off of your shoulders to pool on the floor behind you.

When you relax into him, sighing and cooing like he’s never experienced before, he’s overcome with an odd feeling in his chest. A tightness even more intense than before, like his lungs were failing him, like his heart was bound so tightly it had to fight to beat and keep his blood stuck in its preternatural rush. Every move you make seems to push his mind and body further out of his control, as if he were acting on instinct alone - except his instincts aren’t telling him to tear you apart and bury himself in what is his, they’re telling him to surround you and fill you and let you fill him until his senses know nothing else.

Another string knots itself around his bound heart as you lean back in his grasp, exposing your neck to him. He’s quick to bring his affections upwards to the sensitive skin, licking up your throat and sucking at the spot between your jaw and neck. He nuzzles into you there, breathing you in deep, making a groan so low and drawn out it was as if he were purring like a cat.

“Touch me.” Hearing his own voice startles him, low and breathy rather than his usual demanding growl or lilting disinterest, and you’re quick to obey as you wrap your arms around him, running your hands across his broad shoulders.

“Yes.” This he can feel himself letting loose, a hiss sent straight from his chest, then from somewhere lower as his next order comes a little more forcefully. “More.”

You run your hands along what you can reach of his upper back, as if soothing his heated skin, and everywhere your touch connects has his eyes rolling, head lolling back as he separates his face from you for the first time since his lips had connected. He feels like he needs to straighten himself to breathe properly, lifting you higher as his hips rise and his tired eyes look towards the obscured heavens.

Each inhale is laboured, each exhale that low purr, as you drag your hands up, over the back of his neck, tilting his head forward to rest on your shoulder. You run your fingers through his hair, sending shivers through him, and the sensory overload of your touch, your skin on his, your scent clouding the murky waters of his mind, trickles down to converge in his aching cock.

It finally reminds him of why his body had brought him here, and what was needed to soothe it and stop the way it screams for you. If only he could focus, but your movements continue because he hasn’t told you to stop - he can’t - and hairs stand on end as you massage at his scalp, then run your fingers back down until you’re caressing his thick neck again. You lean back in his strong arms, held up by only him as he separates your bodies for you to run your hands over his chest. Fingertips tickle at his clavicles, and his breath stutters. When your hands slide gently over his nipples, he swallows hard, and as your hands are drawn back upward he wonders if your body hears the call of his.

You trace the sides of his neck, increasing the intensity until his eyes stop rolling long enough to focus on yours. Sukuna realises that whatever you chose to do to him right now, he couldn’t stop you, or rather wouldn’t, and were he more coherent such a thought might frighten him. It doesn’t though. With his eyes locked on yours he’s gone, floating above his body, falling into yours, breathing when you breathe, blinking when you blink, until you seem to understand that for the moment you are in control.

His chest tightens further when your first act of control is to kiss him, lips soft and wet on his cheek, just below his eyes. The action is mirrored on the other side as well, a little more firmly, and then you hook one arm around the back of his neck, reaching down below to line him up with your entrance.

The Ryomen Sukuna he believes himself to truly be returns to him for a moment, as he buries himself in your warmth in one smooth motion, eyes rolling back as he does. He holds you firmly at the hips with two hands, the others retaining the new gentleness he’d been offering you as they slide over your body and feel your every muscle tensing as you squirm and adjust to the stretch of having all of him so quickly.

When you wrap your legs around him, clinging to him as tightly as you can manage, he’s wound even tighter - breath forced from his lungs as he feels as if every inch of you is connected to him. He rocks you both, not in a way that slides his cock against you, in a way that soothes you both. Until your body relaxes, melting into him fully. Your forehead pressed to his, your hands gripping and kneading at the back of his neck, dipping into his hair every so often, your eyes focused on his as if you were waiting for whatever would be set loose once the bindings on his heart snapped.

He feels like he’s floating, like every muscle in his body except for his heart were fully relaxed and carried on the current of his emotions, and it isn’t until the soft ring of your rising moans reaches his ears that he realises he’s been thrusting up into you for some time. You rock into those thrusts, clinging to him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead with soft sighing lips. As for Sukuna, he hardly knows what noises he’s making, or anything that his body is doing except for chasing the high of keeping the two of you connected wherever possible. His eyes take turns rolling or watching you reverently, letting the moment wash over him, scatter him through the current, and rebuild him anew as you clench at him.

In time - though how much time has passed he cannot say - there comes a distant echo, cutting through the haze of the sounds of your breaths and bodies colliding. It sounds very much like his own voice, though he has no clue which mouth is chanting on his behalf. He can’t focus on the words, not that he needs to, as the tightness in his chest begins to snap, little by little, forcing him to face the truth of those words as his body speaks them.

You grip him tightly enough that he can be sure it is not the mouth on his stomach speaking them, because they ring loud and clear in his mind, through the fog that had brought them forth in the first place. Then, you kiss him, and they stop, as his lips busy themselves with drinking in your moans, tangling his tongue with yours, feeling your mouth slide against his.

Then you’re saying them back, and his heart is released, beating wildly enough that it can no longer be restrained. He lets out a noise unlike him, a plea, a prayer, a wilting bellow as he releases inside of you and you squeeze and pull everything he has to offer with the intensity of your body following him through the waves.

You repeat it back to him again, breathlessly, and each utterance waves away the fog in his brain until his own response is the clearest thought he’s had since that drink had passed his lips.

“I love you.”

banners by @cafekitsune

[merculuros]

they are my yin yang ☯️

[ezralva]

Kusakabe BEFORE meeting Higuruma

Kusakabe AFTER meeting Higuruma

Literally make his body be a shield (against Sukuna) and stepping stone for Higuruma

Can't blame a man for having priority ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[shiruba-tsuki]

DATTO

[dollfaceksj]

reminder | jjk (pt. 3) in about 6 hours <3

it’s out now! read here

[epickiya722]

And if I just cried forever?

OH, SO WE STARTING OFF THE EPISODE LIKE THIS, HUH?!

[incorrectjjkquotes]

Megumi, singing to the tune of I Kissed a Girl: I killed a guy, and I liked it— Yuuji, whispering: Should we call the exorcist? Maki, also singing: The taste of his cherry chapstick... Nobara, appalled: Call the exorcist.

[otomiyaa]

😳 check out this art on twitter..

[gojosbf]

if you think you're pathetic remember it's 2024 and there are still people out here who'd rather burn themselves to death than admit satosugu exists and it's a gay ship

[raplinenthusiasts]

🥹 for @jkpng

[thequeenofsarcaasm]

Gege Akutami missed his calling as a BL author. He would have revolutionised the genre