#the most revolting man alive

[hershelwidget]

Came up with two different guys with a connection to sight

Silon is LITERALLY the God of Sight and is physically linked to the Universe itself and is also known as the Ethereal Therapist

Sightserve is an impressively fruity little man who serves an evil overlord in my friend’s story

I think they know each other. Somehow they know each other but I just don’t know How and Why

[fxtalitygod]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

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[charmercharm3r]

fated circles

HJS

Masterlist

wc: 3.3k

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, vampire!jisung x afab vampire!reader, mentions of blood, soul ties, mentions of death/dying, subpar world building that i don’t intend to elaborate on lol

☆ﾟ

He’s never been in love, he’s sure of it. He’s seen what love is and how people act when they’ve found someone capable of being loved. This was not that, it was never that. It’s something much more– in fact, calling it love would be an insult to each other’s very existence. What he feels is so far beyond, that he’s not entirely sure he’s even truly been alive until you.

Like most vampires, Jisung longed to find his mate. Unlike most, he didn’t bother searching. Instead, he sat and waited, the logic being that if both of you were searching then you’d be chasing each other in circles, it was better to stay put. And hell– it worked.

The day you found him was like his heart was beating for the first time in forever. Jisung wished it could’ve been under better circumstances, meaning he wished he wasn’t hunched over like an animal and covered in blood. It wasn’t even the good kind of blood, that of an alcoholic he found passed out behind a bar. The ring on the man’s finger told him everything he needed to know and decided that this would be dinner. 

Jisung could smell you before he could see you, your scent alone making him pull away from his meal to see the figure standing at the end of the alley– the light at the end of his cold, dark tunnel. Your hand was on your hip and a tilt of your head, already preparing to start scolding him on his eating habits. The thud of the drained body onto the pavement, less than a second to stand in front of you, the putrid stench of the tainted blood across his lips mixed with his saliva, you were sold.

“You’re making a mess,” you had told him, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on the corners of your lips.

“Then help me clean it up.” He’d thought it was charming at the time.

“Do I look like your maid?” You’d said as you raised your hand to his cheek, barely grazing his skin and his head leaning into it. The blood smelled nowhere near appetizing, sort of revolting, but you pressed your thumb to his bottom lip anyways, collecting some before gently pushing it forward without any necessary force. Jisung had let you in with no fight and fought the urge to moan at the weight of your finger on his tongue.

When you pulled away, his teeth lightly scraping your skin in resistance, “no… but you actually kinda look like everything I’ve been waiting for.”

 “Still can’t believe that line actually worked on you,” he reminisced on the moment, lying comfortably still beneath you. 

Not that he could see, you rolled your eyes, “didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

Jisung laughed his ever so melodic laugh and held you tighter to his chest, “sorry, I don’t make the rules. You should consult with whoever wrote the vampire handbook.”

You sat up then, straddling either side of his slim waist and palms firmly planted on his chest. Jisung readjusted the pillow under his head and kept his hands there, gazing up at you with the fondest of eyes. It always mesmerized you how prettily they sparkled even in the dimmest light. “Your hair’s getting longer,” not thinking about it, you reach to brush the strand back from his face, tugging at the roots.

“That’s not what you wanna talk about.” Jisung’s hands reassuringly caressed your thighs.

“I always wanna talk about you.”

“And I love that. But ask me what you wanna ask me.”

Playing with his hair a little while longer, you let the courage build up to what it was you truly wanted to say. He let you use him like a stress ball, kneading and toying while taking all of the affection gratefully. “Do you ever wonder where we came from?”

“I don't remember the name of the hospital I was born at, but it was in Incheon–”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” His cheeky smile fell just a little as he relaxed further into your touch. All of his features softened as he read what he could from your troubled expression.

Jisung sighed, “I do wonder. I wonder what I would’ve looked like with gray hair, sulk for a little, then I thank whoever created us for letting me live long enough to find you.”

“I found you, remember?” You squished his cheeks in both your hands.

“And it took you long enough,” he replied with puckered lips. It was cute, you indulged him and softly met his skin with a gentle touch. How warm he was, only due to the ascending sun beaming through the window to heat his otherwise cold skin. Jisung sighed, holding you in place by the back of your neck to feel your contrast in temperature.

A slight twitch beneath your groin made you smile into the kiss, “I didn’t even do anything,” you tease against his lips.

“Do you have to?” Jisung giggled, playfully rolling you over to hover above your body.

He pulled away and did nothing but stare. Deeply, longingly, so full of sentiment that he was sure even the richest, sweetest blood in the world couldn’t make him feel this type of euphoria. You let go of his hair to trace a finger across his cheek, then thumb at his bottom lip the same way you did the first time you’d met. No intention other than to feel close to him, you dip your thumb into his mouth and swipe it over his tongue. Jisung closed his lips around the digit and watched the way your eyes darkened, though not necessarily with the lust he’s used to. There was something else you wanted to talk about, hoping to find it on the tip of his tongue.

Jisung hummed with encouragement, he knew you were doing this to keep him from speaking so you could voice your mind freely. “It’ll be one of us, sooner or later.”

Ah, that’s what this is.

“A hunter, a vengeful witch, some freak accident knowing you–”

“With’es ‘re ec’thinct,” he mumbled.

Pressing harder onto his tongue, “you don’t know that.” Jisung watched your eyebrows knit together for a split second before speaking again. “I’m just– I don’t know what I’d do… if I lost you.”

Slowly, he took your hand from his mouth and threaded it through his hair again, “they’d have to pry my undead body from yours arms if they plan to take me from you.” Jisung could see the anguish in your eyes at the mere thought of him being gone as he rolled you over, unable to fight the sadness from taking over.

“I’d rather die first.” As if all the air was stolen from his lungs, Jisung felt his paperweight heart squeeze like you’d stuck your hand in his chest in a lame attempt to resuscitate it. “I don’t want to know what it’s like to live without you.”

For the first time since you’d found him, he was at a loss for words– because he understood. He understood the hurt behind the fake scenario he knew was playing out in your head, as he felt the same way. He trailed the hand keeping yours in his hair down, brushing away the locks that covered your neck. As he dipped down to nibble at the supple skin, Jisung felt the wetness that fell. He kissed that away, too, all the way back up to your lips. There was no rush in the kiss, no urgency or carnality that usually fueled him. Rather, he wanted to revel in the electricity that never seemed to dim, letting it flow throughout his entire body and burned it into his memory. God, he loves your lips. 

He mindlessly swiped away the remaining tears, a gentle reminder that he was here, and by no means other than an act of whatever god is out there, was he going to leave.

You, to put it simply, wanted to crawl into his ribcage and wear him like a shield. You wanted to be so close to him that your bodies fused and became one, never separating. Even the clothes you wore now felt like too much of a barrier, all but tearing his shirt by the back of the neck and tossing it aside. You couldn’t be mad when he did the same to you, then with your panties and his shorts until there was nothing but skin keeping your still hearts apart.

Jisung wanted so badly to worship you when he felt your hips bucking up into his thigh with a slick coating. And although you would never deny him the pleasure of sending you to see god herself with just his mouth, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Quick work of his fingers, you were whining and clawing from his scalp down his back, there would’ve been marks if that was possible. A pop of his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste, you wrapped your legs around his waist to move him along. He was trying to draw it out, make you slow down and appreciate the moment. Though they weren’t fleeting– thanks, immortality– they were precious, every single one. The many, many times he’s had you like this are all his favorites, genuinely unable to choose just one.

“Be with me,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours and unmoving. You pouted, chest hiccuping with need. “Just be with me right now.” As much as you wanted him, you knew what he meant. 

To be loved is to be seen, to be understood, to be known and heard and changed. “I’m here,” barely a hair’s breadth of a whisper.

“You are, my loveliest. And I am, too.” Jisung kissed you again, a little more heat behind it now as he reached between your bodies to finally connect. 

The first push of him past your entrance is always relieving, yet spiraling as it makes you want more in an instant. Deep groans emit from both of you into the kiss, though Jisung doesn’t move once fully inside. He lets the warmth of your cunt radiate throughout his body and then some. “You’re here,” he mumbles once, and then again as his lips fall to your cheek. He doesn’t say it for himself, but for your sake. It’s grounding, the simple words, like because it’s coming from his mouth that it makes it true.

And when his teeth rakes over where your pulse should be, your body tenses up with a shiver. 

Oh, fuck being in the moment– you are the moment, and he’s inside you. There’s quite literally not a single thing that could compare.

Jisung sinks his canines into your neck, trying to keep from baring his fangs with excitement. “If you don’t move right now–”

You don’t get to finish threatening him before his hips are slowly pulling back and pushing in, slick sounding from your bodies with each slide. Your arms are wrapped tight over his shoulders, pressing him chest to chest as he attempts to keep himself in check by treating your neck like a chew toy. Not that you mind, the pain mixed with the pleasure is a gentle reminder that he’s the only one that could ever hurt you, the power he has over you.

He’s not timid, nor is he rough, though thrusting as though he wants to feel himself in your stomach. And he does, it drives him insane, taking a second from your throat to glare down at where he’s poking through your belly with each glide. It makes his eyes roll back and momentarily stutter. You use it to your advantage, throwing him to the side and frantically mounting him again.

The quick slide of your pussy down onto him had Jisung involuntarily bucking upwards, seeing the head of his cock so subtly bulge again. He almost came on the spot, if he’s being honest with himself. But you didn’t give him the chance to so much as catch his metaphorical breath when you began to grind yourself forward and back, swiveling your hips with a new kind of heat. 

In a way, Jisung was a little embarrassed that you overpowered him so easily, though not at all surprised. You took from him what he refused to give you, and it turned him on beyond belief. But it also made him want to prove himself that much more– not that he necessarily needed to. The grip he had on your hips now, you knew what he wanted to do.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you warned, and an audible whimper left him. You couldn’t help a laugh because he was so damn cute looking at you like you’d hung the stars for him. Without the human feature of exhaustion, you went to town on top of him, moving your hips in circles for a bit before ultimately leaning forward and slicking your hips up and down. Jisung met your lips halfway to tangle his fingers in your hair and hold you captive. That was, until he thought it was time for a position change.

Although you were physically stronger than him, you were at your weakest when he was kissing you, too in love with the feeling to focus clearly. Jisung caught you off guard, flipping your bodies again and tossing you into the pillows with a yelp. “Quit fucking around,” his timbre dropped, towering over you again with a sharper aura.

Jisung handled you into a position he knew you couldn’t get out of, on your side with your leg hitched in the air by his hold. He didn’t wait to plunge back into your wet cunt, picking up speed as he decided to instead press your top leg into the bed and expose you even more. You could do nothing but claw at his arms and chest, crying out as he hit deeper parts of you. 

“You were so assertive before, baby. What happened?” He teased with a smirk. “You get a kiss and a dick in you and forget how to act.”

He wasn’t totally wrong, but you couldn’t use your brain even if you tried. Not that he was doing anything particularly special in terms of how he was fucking you– though it was still good as hell– you weren’t in the right state of mind since before you started. You were silently needy; physically, emotionally, mentally on every plane of existence, unable to put it into words. When domination fails, you succumb to being fucked the princess you are.

Jisung pressed his pelvis hard into your ass, kissing you gently whilst pinning your arms above your head. “Don’t you feel that, lovely?” His free hand trickled to your belly, pressing and nudging himself deeper into you. The whimper that escaped was enough for him to keep talking. “I don’t think we could be any closer,” he slid his hand higher to wrap around your throat, “don’t you feel me here, too? Is that why you can’t speak?” Your attempt to nod was endearing, kissing you again as he squeezed.

“Oh, I love when you’re in love. You do love me, right?” You nodded weakly. “No, no. You’re going to say, ‘I love you.’ Okay?”

Jisung pinched your cheeks together in his palm, lips puckering when you tried to speak, “love you so much, Sungie.” That answer appeased him, kissing you abruptly before shoving your face into the pillows.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ do.”

He leaned back, putting all his weight on his palms that caged your upper body against the mattress. Jisung kept one knee pinning your top leg to the bed and snapped his hips faster, harder, his version of mercy being that your hands were now free to grab him however you pleased. Did you ever need to, with the way you were almost being tossed up the bed from the force. His cock hit places that never failed to make you squeal and drool in ecstasy.

Prodding at a rather tender spot inside you, your walls clenched extra tightly around him, making Jisung’s upper body strength crumble. “Ah– fuck, fucking love you, too. Love you so much. Love this pussy,” his teeth found a home against your neck again, this time unable to fight the urge to sink his fangs into the flesh.

If you weren’t close before, you sure as hell were now. He scraped the sharpness over your delicate skin, letting goosebumps rise and your moans grow louder until you were begging for him to sink them into you. To claim you in a way that was reserved for only the most devoted of your species.

“Do it,” you pleaded with tears in your eyes, “for forever.”

Your reminder of how permanent this action was excited him, made him more desperate and more carnal than ever before. Drinking your blood was a sacred act that binds you together, the red string becoming a red knot made of a supernaturally unbreakable force. He dies, you die, and vice versa. Just the way you both wanted.

“Can’t live without you,” your voice, broken but truthful, he couldn’t deny you any longer.

“Won’t live without you,” Jisung corrected, and let himself divulge in the red taste of you.

Is this what heaven feels like? Warmth, safety, ardor, you felt every part of your being sync with his as your head began to feel light, body being overcome with a tidal wave of euphoria. The blinding white light behind your eyes faded, then there was Jisung. In every corner of your mind, every fiber of your body, he was there. What seemed like a vision of his hands reaching out for yours, tangled in the notorious red string. It was quiet, but something urged you to reach out to him and intertwine. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew it was him. So wonderfully strange, everything that was once a burden became insignificant as soon as your hands connected. What was once two separate beings became one, tied by the wrist.

Your eyes finally opened after what seemed like centuries. He was already looking down at you with pure adoration, stroking your cheek softly, just as out of false breath as you were. “I didn’t think you could be any more beautiful. I’m so glad to be wrong.”

“Why didn’t we ever do that before?” Jisung kissed your forehead, falling to the side without pulling out as he pondered your question.

“Honestly, I thought it was a load of shit– the whole soul-binding thing,” he held you tight against his chest, tucking your head under his chin as he massaged around the tender mark on your neck.

“So you felt it.”

“Fuck, did I feel it? I swear I saw us from some fuckin’ omniscient point of view. And can I say, we should do porn ‘cus we look good as hell.”

“Wait, what?” He had an entirely different experience, still supernatural, nonetheless. “You actually– what?”

“I’m serious,” Jisung peered down at you, not a single joking tone. “Like, time stopped. Or froze, I don’t know. It was a weird limbo thing, I don’t remember a lot of it. I bit you, then there we were… y’know. And there was something tied around my hands. I wasn’t really thinking– or my hands were moving by themselves. A– and you were there. I mean, I couldn’t see you, but I knew it was you.”

His words left you stunned, so different yet the same. You wished you could’ve seen what he did, but the indescribable sensation of his soul finding yours is irreplaceable. That’s how you explained it to him. Jisung was always bringing up how you’d first met, and you’d always say that you found him first. Except, he stayed still, waiting for you to make your way to his side of the circle.

The after effects of the intense moment left you mentally tired. Although you can’t sleep, you can close your eyes and let the comfort of Jisung’s arms soothe your lethargic mind. “Won’t live without you,” voice muffled by the skin of his chest.

“Well, now you really can’t, my loveliest.”

☆ﾟ

A/N: phew hi there. apologies for the silence. life. also, gonna be making an account for enhypen soon! so stay tuned for thatttttttt. probably gonna be mostly the hyung line, but im still deciding how i want that to actually go cus ngl i didnt rly plan anything out lol. anyway if ur reading this thank u! i appreciate u!

[aspiring-house-husband]

…oh. my god. this may be one of the longest things i’ve ever written. you want some sub/top regency kink a/b/o? you want some heat-fucking? you want some knotting? have i got a treat for you.

normally, a king would be proud to have all alpha sons. a sign of a strong bloodline, strong heirs. dominance and assurance in the future. 

this king was not proud. he was scared. all three sons were alphas- his daughters, too. every child an alpha. what would normally be a strength was a curse, as it could not help him now. 

there was a young king, butting up against their border. what had once thought to be a nuisance or even a weakness, their young king was new, inexperienced, unknown. but when the kingdom opposite this royal alpha’d family attempted to take advantage of the young and inexperienced king, their kingdom fell. the young king’s empire grew. as did his army, and his power. and his bloodlust. 

he crushed a revolt, only a year later, from his conquested kingdom’s militia. he carved out pieces from his eastern and western borders. through every battle, every negotiation, every victory, he proved that his blade, tongue, and mind were equally sharp. he was accruing power at a rate that made long-standing reigns weary. 

the kingdom he inherited by blood adored him. those kingdoms he conquered respected him. those kingdoms bordering him were terrified. 

the alpha king, of an alpha queen, with five alpha children, desperately wanted to avoid war. an ally was preferred to an enemy, and he saw what happened to kingdoms who resisted. peace was preferred, and what better way than offering a spouse to the young king, preferably an omega to be controlled and toyed with, so that the kingdom could remain uncontrolled, untouched? 

his youngest son, his sweet prince. an alpha, but the most likely to submit to a young but obviously alpha king. he was dressed in ceremonial cloth and jewels and taken to the young king. the prince was stunned by the beauty of the king… but not the ruggedness the prince expected. he was not a muscular and scarred military man with blood splattered across his chest, but instead a small man with legs crossed and his chin resting, bored, in his palm. soft hair framed a curious expression around bright, curious eyes. 

“young alpha prince,” the king says, the corners of his lips only barely tugging into a smile, “welcome to my kingdom. welcome to my home.” 

the prince kneels before the king and bows, touching his head to the floor, his robes pooled around him on the tiled floor as a great island of nobility. he stays as the king stands, graceful steps taking him to the prince. 

“quite generous of your father, sending me a toy of such noble stature.” the king circles him, his gaze drinking in the prince. “stand.” 

the prince does as ordered and raises his chin. he finds the king slightly shorter than him. “an alpha, i smell. tell me, are you afraid of me?”

the prince lets his gaze flick to the king, who still circles like a predator. 

“majesty, i will regard you however it is you should require me to,” the prince responds, and the king finally smiles full and across his face, but his eyes are dark. he comes to stand in front of the prince, and lifts a hand to his face, but stops just short of touching. 

“may i?” he asks, and the prince hesitates in surprise at the question before nodding. the king’s hand is warm as it slowly cups his face. 

“have the prince shown to his quarters and dressed,” the king addresses his men without breaking eye contact with the prince. “return him to me once he is settled in.”

the prince marvels at his living space. it has high ceilings and double paned windows that face the western skies, a plush bed larger than the one he’d had at home, and a bath with working plumbing. the hearth was alive with warm fire when he arrived, and two servants awaited to help him dress and fetch him food. not even as the prince of his kingdom had he ever felt so taken care of, so privileged. only when his handmen showed him to his wardrobe did he feel again like a plaything. his closet was not befitting a prince- it suited a concubine. hardly covering cloth draped from metal chains and jewels, his dignity spared by only a few inches. he chose the outfit that covered the most of his skin, but even that wasn’t much, and what it hardly covered could still be seen through the fabric. 

“do you know what the king wants of me?” he asked one of his handmaidens, and she shook her head. 

“i’ve long stopped questioning his intention. he hasn’t lead us wrong yet. he did order, though, that robes be made available to you, if your decency was less than to your liking.” she opened yet another wardrobe, and the prince sighed in relief that he could at least drape a large fur cloak over himself before he was sent before the king. 

he wasn’t led back to the throne room, as he had expected. instead he was taken to an office study, where the king sat hunched at the end of a long dark wood table over maps and other papers. he took a seat at the king’s left and dared not look at the scribblings, lest he be reprimanded for curiosity above his station. 

“your father is a smart man.” the king breaks the silence. “even being so far from the throne, he would’ve prepared you, yes?”

“Yes, highness,” the prince responds.

“Perhaps you will notice something i haven’t. this river isn’t supposed to flood- it never did, during my mother’s reign. but it has thrice in mine, and i can’t work out why. each time it floods, it destroys homes, and i can’t have that any longer.” 

the prince sits in stunned silence before he responds. 

“you’re asking… my opinion, sire?”

“why wouldn’t i? a pretty face does not a lesser mind make.”

the prince can only be glad his complexion hides blushes before he leans in to study the maps. 

the royals emerge hours later with flood plane maps and funding plans for village relocation drawn up. the king takes the hand of the prince and sends him back to his chambers, but not without first again holding his face. 

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his smile unexpectedly fond, “sit at my right hand.”

the bed is too plush for the prince; he cannot stop his mind from wandering. the king was not at all what he had expected. not just small and soft, beautiful and graceful instead of rugged and rough, but also kind, generous. though the prince was rarely called anything but ‘toy’, ‘pet’, ‘gift’, he was treated like not only a royal but a confidant, an advisor. the touches that he had expected from his new king had never come, and those that did were only soft enough to make him desire more. and his plush pillows were no help, hugged into the curve of his frame and just the right plushness. it made him buck before falling asleep. made him grind as he woke. made him whimper through his dreams of serving the king as he once thought he would be required to. 

“highness,” the prince begins one morning, over breakfast. “is there anything more i could be doing for you?”

“for me?” the king asks, setting down his utensils and locking his fingers together, resting his chin to his knuckles and his elbows to the table. “how so?”

“i am but to serve you,” says the prince, “it is my purpose, my life. if there would ever be anything more you need from me, you need only ask.” 

he couldn’t be sure, but the prince swore he smelled an arousal spike, and for the first time it made him wonder at the king’s designation. all had assumed him an alpha, but not once had the prince smelled an alpha scent from him. until this moment, in fact, not a scent at all… his eyes drifted to the metal chains that wrapped his neck with links and leather. the prince has assumed these pieces armor, but maybe they were more. maybe they hid the king’s scent. 

“you are servant to me,” echos the king, fondness in his voice and tugging at the end of his lips. “you believe so?”

“i am lost to it,” says the prince, wishing he could take back how his voice cracked. too many times recently had he been erect in the presence of the king, his only disguise being his fur cloaks. too many time had he woken up dripping with the idea of the king ordering him around, owning him the way he truly was owned. 

“very well,” says the king, and he stands from his breakfast. “walk with me.” the prince gladly does so, half a pace behind the king. 

“with honesty, i have been waiting,” he says, hands clasped at his back. “when i took you as my own, i wanted it to be of your choice. i couldn’t help but be impatient.” 

the king’s chamber door opened into a small room first, empty but for light furniture. this is where the king turned to the prince, hopping up onto a table top to sit nearly the same height as the prince. 

“touch me,” he says, his voice not even close to hard enough for it to be an order. the prince obeys nonetheless, his fingers rising up the king’s sides to tease his tunic over his head. still, the leather and link around the king’s neck remains. the prince moans with the skin revealed to him, and breathes out raggedly. 

“you mustnt tell anyone,” the king says, and the prince blindly nods without knowing what he was meant to keep secret, far too focused on exploring the king with his hands and the way the king’s legs have latched into him and knocked the fur cloak from his body. he manages, though, to follow the king’s hands to the armor around his neck, and a few seconds later the armor falls to his lap. 

the prince’s head spins. not only was the king’s scent entirely new to him, new and perfect, but it was omega scent. it was omega, and aroused, and strong, and so incredibly sweet smelling that it must’ve been crafted just for him. if he hadn’t been hard, he would’ve swelled to full size from the smell alone. 

“don’t be dumbfounded,” the king says, “i know i’m an omega, but that’s why i’m so strong in battle, so people-“ 

“i don’t care,” says the prince, diving his face to the king’s neck and scooping the king by the legs into his arms, “i don’t care what people assume about you. you smell so good, highness, that i wouldn’t care if they all were watching us, right now.” 

the king moaned and held onto the prince as he opened the door to the king’s bedroom. he had never seen it before, and now he could guess why- the scent of omega, aroused and needy, hung heavy in the air. the prince placed the king down in his bed, which now that he could see, he could tell was filled with pillows and blankets, woven into a perfect nest. still he did not leave the king’s neck, salivating over the scent that made his head spin. he lathered open-mouthed kisses along his neck, scraping his teeth over the omega’s scent gland and prompting a wanton moan straight from the prince’s dreams. the prince cursed under his breath and unthinkingly thrusted his hips, his thin clothing doing nothing to hide either his arousal or the sensation of grinding against the warmth of the king’s body. 

“pet,” says the king, breathing ragged but hands still strong as he holds the prince away from him, just enough. “undress me, pet.” the prince didn’t nod, didn’t hesitate, just pushed the king onto his back and grabbed his waistband, lifting his hips as he yanked downward. he did it with ferocity, desperation, and hardly had the mind to hear the king’s chuckle over the sight he was greeted with. the king’s hole was nothing short of everything he’d dreamed of in every rut-fevered sleep, soft and wet and warm, so wet he was dripping. the scent was strong and still so sweet, tuned to his nose alone, like it was made for him. he kneeled before his king and held onto his thighs, sliding forward, but the king closed his legs and trapped the prince just beyond his knees. 

“my king?” he asked, desperate eyes looking up at the king as his chest heaved. was this what catching an omega’s heat felt like? he had rut before, but this was different, like he was driven by something external and so ravenous that he could devour the king. but he didn’t smell heat, as he had before from his oldest brother’s wife. the sticky sweet smell wasn’t among the king’s scent, his beautiful dripping warm and wet and soft scent. this feeling was all his own, without heat, without rut. he was this pathetically desperate, all his own. 

the king had sat up, and finally his hands pet through the prince’s hair, held his jaw. 

“put your mouth to me, pet,” says the king, “your lips, your tongue. and don’t emerge until you’ve tasted my high and swallowed it. don’t come out of it until you’ve smeared yourself in my slick and no one will be able to even smell your breath without knowing i’ve been on your tongue.” 

with an unprompted moan the king falls back down into his bed and opened his legs for the prince, who presses the king’s thighs further open and eats like a starving animal. he nearly cums through his clothes at the taste, his cock strained and weeping and impossibly, painfully hard. he does not spare a hand for himself, too focused on the king’s bucking hips, his loud moan whenever he sucked against the king’s cock, the way his moans cracked and whimpered when he dove his tongue deep. to his surprise, it doesn’t take long; the king clamps down around his tongue and bathes his face in the smells of satisfaction and warmth and arousal and most of all, need. 

the prince feels like a wild animal rising from his kill, his face dripping and his breathing rough. the king looks upon him with pleasure, his breath hard, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“toy, love,” says the king, barely untangling his fingers from where they had gripped into his bedsheets, “i had planned to do a lot of walking tomorrow. force me to change my plans.” 

the prince shivers and undresses himself quickly. the clothing he wore couldve easily been torn, or even pulled to the side, but he took the time to yank them from his body, catching sight of his own cock for the first time that morning. he was surprised to notice an angry, throbbing knot- he had rut? 

his hesitation catches the attention of the king, who sits up enough to see the knot, and his moan is nothing but heavenly as he falls to the bed again. 

“i’ll milk that best if you’ve had me twice more,” promises the king. “get me there, toy.”

thrusting into the king nearly had him over the edge, but he couldn’t swell his knot without being deep inside the king, without satisfying his orders. he had to control himself, had to fuck into the king’s sloppy, throbbing, hot and wet hole without losing himself to it, but it felt like a pointless battle. he was too far gone, the scent of omega burning in his nose and making his eyes half lid, his hips snapping into the king and pulling back only halfway before impacting with the king’s tightly wrapped legs before thrusting deep again. 

he growled in dissatisfaction—not the right angle, not deep enough, not lewd enough moans from the king—and pulled out to flip the king onto his stomach, pulling his hips back, and thrusting in. the noise he pulled from his omega was high-pitched and filthy, and the prince’s gaze moves between the hungry and soaking wet hole that suckles against his knot with every thrust, and the blissful expression and soft, drooling lips of the king, pressed into his bedsheets. 

he barely notices as the king gets tighter, and tighter, before he clamps down again and screams, his voice broken but loud, catching and announcing every shudder, pulse, tremble, twitch, broken with soft words the prince could barely hear, words as “toy,” and “love,” and “yes,” and “pet,” and, the worst of them all, the one that had him throbbing, “alpha.”

the prince pulls out to flip the king over again. he is pliant and panting, flushed down the front of his body and looking up at the prince with undisguised adoration, obsession, lust. the prince has to look away to focus; he wants nothing more than to be inside the king and satisfy him again, but he needs to make it better. the nest he had crawled into is well constructed, and he wouldn’t dare rip at the pillows built into walls, but there is one that doesn’t seem to be for either structure or for laying heads on, one that seems thick enough. he lifts the king and lays the pillow under his back, propping up his hips to the prince, splaying his thighs open to show the soaked and reddened, throbbing, abused hole. the prince has to break his own hypnosis to move his eyes away and back to the king. 

he crawls up, cock hard beneath him, and for the first time kisses the king, their mouths dancing together, tongues tangling and teeth clacking. he sinks into the king’s hole like he belongs there, lined up perfectly and finding no resistance. the king moans into his mouth and his arms come up around the prince, nails latching to his back. 

“knot me,” begs the king, his ankles locking behind the prince. “knot me full, take me, mark me deep.”

the words were pleas, not orders, but the prince obeys without question. he thrusts into the king with what feels like every ounce of power in his body, deep and fast and strong. his body is alight- every sensation his to memorize. the sting of his omega’s nails on his shoulder blades. the lustful moans just next to his ear. the near-stickiness as their bodies part before coming together again. the warmth of his omega’s body. the heavenly softness of his hole. every sensation, his, and too easy to burn into his mind forever. his omega begins to tighten, to whimper, his moans sliding higher pitched, and the prince keeps his same pace, desperate to please and to do as the king ordered. the king does not cum, yet, holds himself with tension in every muscle and teeth bared. 

“knot me, alpha,” he whispers, eyes bright and hungry. “so deep your seed will never find its way back out.”

the prince drops his gaze to where they meet, his knot nestled against the king’s entrance, and he lifts himself so that he can hold onto the king’s hips. he stares at the fluttering muscle of the king’s body, trying to suck him deeper, trying to be one with him, and his mind swims. still, he pulls, strong and slowly pulling the king toward him as he pushes his hips closer. the king breathes shallow, unable to see where they meet and so watching the prince, pliant and soft and beautiful as the prince guides them together. he pulls with more strength, grits his teeth, pushes forward until they snap together, knocking the prince onto his elbows again, face inches away from the king’s, who looks lustful but bewildered, as though he has looked upon heaven for the first time. 

“alpha,” he breathes, unfocused eyes finally moving to the prince. “my alpha.”

“my omega,” answers the prince, and he kisses him deeply. 

he rocks his hips gently, unable to move the knot but just enough to pull the climax they had both been seconds from. it crashes over the king, who thrashes and screams, and washes over the prince, who collapses and spills. he can feel them throbbing in time, his omega’s hole milking him, pulling everything from him. they bask in it for an eternity, unable to move, unable to speak, hardly able to breathe. finally, the king touches his face again. 

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his eyes unfocused and body still trembling, “sleep in my bed. never leave my side. never let me be without you.”

“i am servant to you,” the prince echoes the king’s words of hours ago. “i am whatever you require.”

“whatever i require?” the king repeats, his eyes lazing closed, blissful enough in his knotting and his alpha’s rut to fall asleep, still clamped around a knot and milking it gently. “you are mine.”

the prince no longer felt the need to wear his fur cloaks. whatever skin that the kingdom could see was marked with the king’s adoration, scratches and bites and hickeys decorating every bit of his body. he fetched the king breakfast and helped him dress, but equally undressed him around hallway corners and beneath banquet tables. he let the stuck-up old nobles turn up their noses at his hard cock trapped beneath only shear fabric, all thoughts of embarrassment wiped away by the soft touch of his king, squeezing him and reminding him of the privilege only he wields. 

an alpha prince, servant to an omega king. a pet for pleasure and a lover. a toy. 

[mrsshabana]

♡ 𝑮𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ♡

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 𝟓𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

CW: NSFW, 18+ MDNI, female reader, blood, gore, manipulation, smut, creampie, violence

AN: Thank you all so much for 500 followers!! I can't believe that this happened so quickly, it was only a month ago that I made my 300 follower special! I want to thank everyone who took the time to support me this far. And I'd also like to welcome everyone that is new here! There will be lots more Gyutaro content to come ~ ♡

Gyutaro doesn’t understand his romantic feelings towards you. He expresses them in ways that are difficult for you to decipher. So he just acts on impulse. Usually having no filter or boundaries.

Treats you like a toy. Similar to how a vindictive child would treat a small puppy.

He’ll make you cry just so he can be the one to comfort you in the end.

As a demon, he thinks he’s superior to you in every way. The only thing you have going for you is your pretty face and beautiful body.

He’ll coo and hold you close, complimenting your beauty only to claw at you flesh. Leaving wounds and bruises on your most beautiful features. He wants to destroy your beauty out of envy, but yet it’s what attracts him to you.

Before him, your life was meaningless. So now that he’s here, you don’t exist outside of him. Without him you are nothing. Which is why he keeps you stored in his sister’s obi whenever he’s away. Sometimes leaving you for days before he wants to play with you again.

Gyutaro grew a soft spot for you because of your juxtaposition. You don’t show disgust towards things that most people consider revolting, like reptiles or people that look different from you, but yet you are the most beautiful human he’s ever seen.

Every time Gyutaro thinks of your beauty, he claws deep red wounds into his flesh, fantasizing about gutting you alive, slitting your throat while digging his hands through your intestines. But the way that you look at him prevents him from doing so. You look at him with fear in your eyes, but without a hint of disgust. After 100 years of hunting humans, Gyutaro knows the difference.

It infuriates him that he can’t bring himself to hate you for your beauty. This frustration is always taken out on you. In the form of cuts and bruises.

But after being held captive for so long, you’ve learned how to behave around him. And things do get better. 

Gyutaro is incredibly intelligent, he just doesn’t understand emotions. Especially ones that he never even got to experience as a human, let alone a demon.

He can read you like a book. Always aware of when you are plotting an escape attempt or when you are lying to him. You learn quickly that there’s no point in trying to fool him.

The thing is, eventually you have grown a soft spot for the demon. The few moments that he is vulnerable with you, have shown you a beauty that you thought impossible for a creature such as himself.

After an argument with his sister, he’ll show you a side of him that you’ve never seen before. The sadness and deep anguish that he holds within himself. No one deserves to have such pains. Even a man-eating demon like Gyutaro.

You want to comfort him and heal his wounds.

As a demon, Gyutaro doesn’t have much sexual desire. He feels no biological urge to reproduce. The only urge within him is to destroy and devour.

But when you’re around, that all changes. Something within him yearns for your touch, your love.

He’s seen humans have sex before, and even though he doesn’t quite understand it, he wants to try. It’s not uncommon for Gyutaro to witness humans having sex in the district. But now, everytime he sees such things, he imagines what it’d be like to do it with you. The tent forming in his pants isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before, but there’s an urgency behind it now. Whereas before he’d be able to ignore it. But now it seems to control his every thought. Blood and carnage replaced by thoughts of your fragile body lying beneath his.

Gyutaro isn’t embarrassed about his desire to have sex with you. He will be completely open and up front with you about it, because he’s been surrounded by sex his entire life. So to him it’s just a normal thing that humans do. He doesn’t understand the social norms/stigmas surrounding sex.

During your first time having sex, it will be the first time that he’s careful with you. 

Once he is accustomed to having sex with you, he will start being more rough. Pulling your hair, biting your neck, and thrusting his hips into you so hard that you bruise.

He’s touch starved, so it makes sense that he gets overwhelmed by the pleasure of having sex with you. He loses himself in you. Fucking you like his life depends on it, moaning and groaning with every thrust.

Even after he fills you up with his cum, he won’t stop. 

He keeps going until he can see that you are exhausted. He may be selfish but he still cares about you. He doesn’t want to push you too far past your limit and risk breaking you.

Surprisingly he’s big on aftercare. Most of the time he’ll fuck you til your legs stop working, so he takes initiative in cleaning you up and tucking you into bed. He loves cuddling you and feeling you tremble in his arms from having orgasmed so many times.

Your sexual experiences with Gyutaro changes your relationship drastically. His feelings for you start to come through in less toxic ways as he begins to understand his feelings. But when he gets annoyed by them or they become too strong, he thinks that having sex will make it go away. When in reality they just make these potent emotions even stronger.

Showing affection towards him will usually calm him down. Once you are able to love him and he can accept your love, things get much easier for the both of you.

It will take lots of time, and the likelihood of surviving that long is slim. But if you do, it’ll be well worth it.

[simplybakugou]

Story Mode | Mystic Academia: Kirishima Eijirou's Route

⋆ PAIRING: jpop.member!kirishima x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: kidnapping ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1020

A/N: omg the first written story mode i’ve ever done! initially i was going to make this part like the regular story modes but i realized i think it would be executed better if i wrote it out instead. for other longer story modes like this, they will also be written out in the future for kaminari, sero, bakugou, and izuku’s routes!

NOTE: the kirishima cap is from @eraserhead-transparents. this part is inspired by the reader story mode in day 10 of zen’s route.

Mystic Academia: Kirishima Eijirou's Route Masterlist

Everything felt hazy the minute you opened your eyes. Your vision was blurry, only for a moment as your eyes fluttered open. Looking around you, you sighed a breath of momentary relief. You were back at the office, your new home. Perhaps everything that had happened was a dream, or a nightmare rather, and you were finally back home in your apartment.

That sentiment was immediately eradicated the minute you realized you were tied to a chair with your arms pinned back and around the chair. It was very much not a dream.

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” an unfamiliar voice greets you. A man dressed in all black walks from behind you and stands before you. He had a black face mask covering his face and the hood from his jacket covering his head. The only feature you could discern were his piercing crimson eyes. 

You could feel your whole body shivering in fear. The last thing you remembered was waiting to watch Kirishima’s conference when this Unknown person broke into Kirishima’s apartment. Who knew you’d have to have security guarding the balcony door as well…

“If you’re wondering how I brought you here, I simply used a chloroform rag to knock you out. Then I just dragged your body here.” You could hear the smile in his voice as well as on his face, despite it being half-covered, as his eyes crinkled up. He spoke so nonchalantly about doing such revolting things to you.

“What do you want?” You mustered up the courage to question him. You hated how shaken your voice was and despite wanting to seem strong, it was hard to do so when a strange man had been stalking you and finally found you only to hold you hostage in your own home. 

“Oh, I don’t want anything from you. I’m just a pawn and I will do whatever it takes to help my master carry out their dream.”

He started pacing around your room, looking around at the things you had moved in with you. You had paperwork all over your desk as the party was just two days away and you were still working on inviting guests to the event. 

“You see, you’re just a pawn, Y/N.” You shivered at his utterance of your name. “We don’t have any issues with you personally. In fact, I was ordered to lead you to this place to help take down those five imbeciles.”

Five imbeciles… He was referring to Bakugou, Mina, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima… He most likely left Deku out due to his absence from the group.

“Just leave them alone. What could they have possibly done to deserve anything?” You could feel yourself getting angry for your new friends. Despite only meeting them almost a week ago, you could tell they were all genuine, including Deku. I mean, who hosts events for charity if they weren’t good?

Unknown bursted out into a fit of laughter. It was an unpleasant sound. He approached you once again and if it weren’t for your being tied to a chair, you would’ve attempted to move as far away from him as physically possible. He crouched down in front of you, bringing his hand up to pat your head. “Don’t you worry. As long as you don’t fight back, everything will be fine. After all, I was ordered to bring you back alive.”

Just as you were realizing the severity of the situation, the doorbell ringing ripped you away from your fears. Several pounding knocks on the door followed.

Unknown chuckled, standing to his feet. “That must be Sero Hanta. Since he’s the only one who knows where this place is.”

“Help!” You screeched. 

Several beeps could be heard on the opposite side of the door, indicating that someone knew the password and was entering it. The door swung open and, to your surprise, revealed Kirishima, who was out of breath and his leg was free from the boot you remember he still had on that morning.

Kirishima’s scarlet eyes scanned the room briefly as they stayed focused on you. “Let Y/N go!”

Just as Kirishima attempted to move towards Unknown, he swiftly removed the rope tying you down to the chair. Unknown grabbed you by your collar, forcing you to your feet as you felt the cool metal blade of a knife to your throat. 

Kirishima stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. “You take another step and I can’t promise you Y/N will be unharmed,” Unknown threatened in a low voice.

Kirishima’s hands balled up into fists at his sides as he felt powerless. “What the hell do you want?!”

Unknown shrugged. “I’ve just been ordered to take Y/N with me.”

“Yeah? Over my dead body will I ever let you take her away!” Kirishima’s voice was strained out of the pure rage he was feeling. You felt tears threatening to spill out as you were doing your best to keep it together. 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Kirishima Eijirou. Eventually you and the rest of MFA will go with her.” Unknown smiled sinisterly through his mask as his eyes crinkled upwards once again. “You can all have a little family reunion then! How fun!”

You were getting fed up with all of this nonsense. Who was this strange man to impose on your life and think he could do whatever he wanted in the name of following orders? Unknown’s hand was right below your chin and so you bit down as hard as you possibly could, certain that you drew blood. 

Unknown screamed out in pain, dropping the knife to your feet and recoiling back in pain as he fell backwards and held his hand to his chest. You swiftly picked the dropped knife up, spinning around and back towards Kirishima. You held the knife out in front of you, nonverbally threatening Unknown not to take another step towards you.

“You stupid girl,” Unknown grumbled, struggling to get back up to his feet.

Kirishima grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. He took advantage of the slight pause before he screamed, “RUN.”

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[immediatebreakfast]

One of the things that it's always interesting to see in a gothic noble is what the villain, or the antagonist represents in the narrative as a whole.

The Gothic is a romantic literary response to the historical, sociological, and political contexts of the the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century. It's a look through the ruin, the passionate, the bigoted, the decaying, and the irrational rationality.

It's an explanation as to why it's crucial to the narrative of why Dracula is a count, why Jonathan is an inexperienced worker, and why there is so much emphasis on the locals.

"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames only appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places again?"

How much contempt, and underlining hatred can one fit in a single paragraph that bordelines on a monologue? Dracula truly holds true resentment towards the locals of Transylvania for daring to try, and defend themselves against him.

He doesn't call them locals, citizens, not even commoners, but peasants. A word that not only signals the kind of social hierarchy that Dracula benefits the most (notice how he also included Jonathan in the social class at the end), but also why he is shown so angry despite Jonathan asking a simple question.

The locals of Transylvania had commited the worst crime in the eyes of the Count, the peasants dared to revolt against their "master" in order to keep themselves alive instead of baring their necks for the slaughter. Even with all of the fear that Dracula has sowed in the heart of the locals, to the point that they obey all of his orders, it's still not enough for him. That fear it's not enough for Dracula because it lacks the concrete submission of his old days as an actual noble class.

The locals of Transylvania fear him for his power and his wealth, but they lack the class mentality that would truly put them under Dracula, and that is eating the Count alive. He calls them fools while they fill their streets with protection wards and put rosaries around their necks, he calls them cowards while we have read how everyone around Jonathan risked the Count's wrath to protect him.

We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. 

The Count hates the old innkeepers, the coachman, and the passengers for daring to rebel against him, even if he is still the unliving cause of their suffering.

Hell, it's heavily implied that all of that is still not enough to fully stop Dracula, and yet he is still so angry. There is nothing that the aristocratic nobility hates more than the mere vision of how the people they deem beneath them act together to stop their abuse.

[kwillow]

I have this strong feeling that theo would be very happy to live in one of my oc's nations. (Hes a minotaur prince of a country that religiously collects any and ALL forms of knowledge cause they believe knowledge no matter what about or how you got it, is not evil also they do necromancy) Unless theo likes to lie in which case just dont do it infront of the crown prince and he'll be golden. The prince tends to skin people alive for lying to him u.u

Theo's a man of ethics, you know. He's taken a Hypocritic Oath.

Alas, I worry Theo might not be as at home in such a nation as one might think, despite his, erm, hobbies.

His studies into necromancy/blood magic are done out of a sense of filial duty, and as a rather fussy man with a prudish personality, he finds the hands-on application of it quite revolting and something to be endured rather than enjoyed. Additionally, Theo may be a nerd who loves books and dark magic and books about dark magic, but he is also a proud scion and adherent of an archaic aristocratic line. As such, he comes packaged with some rather staid, traditionalist values and the belief that most people are inherently his lesser. His few social experiences haven't dissuaded him from the opinion that the vast majority of people are some combination of brutish, stupid, and dissolute.

All that to say - he believes that he himself has the proper motivations, intellect and capacity for self-control (ha) to practice responsible crimes against nature, but would he say the same of wide swathes of society? Certainly not! A kingdom wherein necromancy is widespread and celebrated would naturally have too many lowly people who should never practice such a gruesome, potent art doing so, and that means the kingdom itself must be corrupt.

He would view the collection of dubiously-attained knowledge similarly. He would certainly like to partake in such knowledge, because he is a noble man of good breeding and fine manners who can understand and apply such knowledge with a gentleman's delicate touch. As a curiosity, and out of an appreciation for historical artifacts, he would like ancient tomes of evil work preserved, but not accessible to the unwashed masses who would sully them or use them for ill. Better to remain in a private library, read only by those who engage in appropriate self-flagellation after. Who decides what to preserve and which people should get access to it? Well, himself, of course! He wouldn't trust any other curator's judgment. Another strike, in his view, against a kingdom with a laissez-faire approach to science.

Also, while he values (often brutal) honesty and is certainly not a consummate confabulator of the caliber of Hyden or Ambroys, Theo will use deception to achieve his own ends. Just... not often very well. He's not exactly rocking a Charisma build. He also tends to chafe against male authority figures, especially if they threaten any consequences of his actions. It might end badly for him on the "skinning alive" front.

Anyway - I wouldn't stamp Theo's visa to the minotaur prince's kingdom, for everyone's sake. Best case scenario, he rudely complains about everyone there being debased reprobates the whole time and everyone is extremely uncomfortable. Worst case scenario, I've got one dead rat-sans-pelt and the city's libraries have been ransacked by a man who feels like common people are too dumb and immoral to read medical textbooks and the Kama Sutra alike.

[villainofmyownstory]

Light years

masterlist

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x android/hologram!Reader

summary: Many decades of longing. A lot of years of waiting. Hundreds of light years away from an Earth that no longer seemed like a memory, but a fictional story. A fairy tale written by poets. Earth no longer existed, and life on Zeus 2 went on as if the years of intergalactic war had never happened. As if the destruction of most of humanity had never taken place. There were still a few people on the new planet who remembered their lives on Earth. A past that was a memory stinging under the ribs. A small personal utopia for the last living people. Paradise lost.

tags: sci-fi!au, android, angst, ambiguous/open ending

1.4k words

author's note: Unfortunately, most of the 5th chapter of Day Zero, I don't know why, but it disappeared from my files, probably my mistake that I wrote it on my phone…. and I don't know when I will finish the 5th chapter. So I decided to write something else. I have never read sci-fi books, I have only watched a few movies of this genre in my life. Everything I've written here are my own thoughts about this alternate universe I've invented. Let me know what you think.

This story I wrote for @glitterypirateduck #GhostChallenge. I used prompt #’s 9 and 17. Challenge Masterlist

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Wet streets and neon lights are two certainties of any Saturday evening. The man started his motorcycle from the parking lot with a squeal of tires. The vehicle flashed through the streets of the crowded city at high speed despite the heavy rain. Passing through one intersection after another, the man paid no attention to his surroundings. He had one goal in mind. Like every second Saturday of the month. One damn hour. Just one. Sixty minutes.

He cursed Captain Price in his mind, even though he knew the man had a visit this Saturday, sending him and Gaz to a neighboring planet to see if the unrest caused by the robot revolt has been adequately handled by the new authorities. Although they had their cybernetic teammates on the new planet, the captain trusted his human soldiers the most. Only Price and his three subordinates remembered well their service in the former Task Force 141 many decades ago on Earth. Sometimes, on their free evenings, they reminisced about their past lives, like a long-read book or a movie they watched. Memories that seemed so distant. It was hard to tell that they were their own. And yet they were. Earth had once existed. Their lives were different. A better place.

As the man approached his destination, he wondered if the next visit would look the same. Every month he deluded himself that this time it would not be like the previous one. That the clinic's staff would inform him of progress. About a breakthrough.

So much time. It had been so many, many years since they had lived on Earth. So many decades of longing and hope.

White, smooth walls. The floor lined with rectangular snow-white tiles. 134 pieces to be exact. Electronics and many screens on one of the walls. A comfortable chair and an empty space on the other side. He has long known every nook and cranny of these two rooms. The one where he stays during every visit and this small room, behind bulletproof plastic glass.

As on every single Saturday evenly at 7 pm he was greeted by the same artificial, synthetic voice.

"Welcome, you are a visiting guest at medical facility number 3 and your appointment is about to begin. Sit comfortably and enjoy the company of your still living loved ones.Thank you for using our services. To change your monthly subscription package, please head to room 221 on the 2nd floor. Memories from Earth eternally alive. Light years are no longer an obstacle. With us, everything continues uninterrupted. MedZeus 3 at your service. Light years don't matter. Earthly memories at your fingertips."

When silence falls, he counts every breath. Exactly 17, when a light comes on in the room behind the glass. The figure flickers and after a moment is visible in all her divine beauty.

You are as he remembers you. You are the same as you were taken out of his mind. A memory.

"Hi Simon!" The man clenches his tightened fists. Your voice is always the same. Bright, melodious. Joyful. Like every month you stand in the same place. In that fucking white void. So close and so far away. He dreams every day to be able to touch you again. To feel your soft and smooth skin under the pads of his scarred, rough hands. To touch your wavy hair at least once more and smell the fruity sour fragrance of your favourite perfume. He would like to see your rosy cheeks one more time. At least one damn tear in your eyes. Some human emotion.

"How was your service? You look tired. I hope the mission was successful." The same sentences spoken for months. He so longed to hear something different. Sorrow. Longing. Joy. Anger. Anything, some human feeling.

Meanwhile, everything is just as the signed script predicted. The programmed hologram of your character stands dressed in a plain black t-shirt with your favorite band and plain straight jeans. Hair tied in a loose ponytail. Just as he remembered you. Just as he saw you on the last day of his life. Yours.

If you hadn't been so stubborn, if you hadn't said those words. Maybe you would be together now. Light years from Earth. Light years from that life together.

The man slowly gets up from his chair and walks over to the glass. He removes the glove from his hand and stares at the bare palm to the cold transparent wall separating you.

“I miss you.” He finally says while swallowing that damnable, choking tightness in his throat. That bitterness that appears every time he looks at the product of his memories. You're seemingly here. You're so close. But he knows it's not you. You were now the product of his selfish desire. When he was awakened from centuries of hibernation many years ago the first thing he bought in his new reality. In his new life. You.

He damn well regretted that decision. He should have buried you long ago, erased your memories as other living people have done. Forget you and live on Zeus 2 like the others. He could eventually start a family, or adopt a small humanoid robot-child. He could even buy himself an android wife. After all, he was an intergalactic soldier. An Earth hero. One of the last humans from Earth. A myth.

That's probably why he couldn't let you go. You were something that kept him alive. Were you? No. For him all the time - you are. He didn't want to be like the others, he didn't allow his DNA to be changed. Even Captain Price was no longer fully human. He was afraid that with making him half human and half robot he would destroy the last part of you that had been in him all along.

Long minutes of silence after saying that three words. I miss you. They caused the figure behind the glass as if trying to process and quickly in gigabytes of stored data to find the answer to his words.

He smiled gently. But maybe the staff of the facility has managed to improve something, maybe there has been some kind of revolution and you will finally be more human. His again.

The hologram twitched slightly, as if it was about to disappear. The man glanced anxiously at his watch, it had been only 17 minutes since the start of the meeting.

“Simon”

Your voice is like behind a fog. His name whispered with the same tenderness when you first confessed your feelings for each other. That rainy November evening when he held you for the first time in his bare arms. When he gave you his heart. When he first said that he…

The man shakes his head. He didn't give them back those intimate memories. No. That's what he didn't transfer to the data cloud. So how is it possible…

“Don't let go, Simon. Never.” Your lips don't move. Your figure again slightly disappears for a fraction of a second. No it can't be true. Maybe this some bug in the system. A badly written code. Maybe a virus crept in, or a hacking attack. He had heard at the base, about recent cyber attacks on medical facilities. Maybe the attacks have reached his planet as well.

The image of your hologram is back to normal. As you do every month, you tilt your head slightly to the side and extend your hand. The man freezes, holding his breath. You always make this gesture at the end of your meetings.

You put up your thumb, index finger and pinkie finger, while keeping your ring finger and your middle finger down.

“I Love You” in Sign Language.

After a moment of hesitation, he extends his hand and his palm shows the same gesture. He rests his forehead on the cold glass closing his eyes.

You are about to disappear. Again you will remain just a part of a recollection. Data stored on the server.

When the man opens his eyes again he continues to see your figure. In white. A braid of tiny white gypsophila and purple eustoma flowers adorns your head. Your hair is loosely undone. Slightly curly hair reaches below your shoulders. A simple white dress covers your body from neck to ankles. Lace sleeves adorn your arms.

Time seems to have stopped. Again. As if there were no light years from earthly life. Like that tomorrow has simply arrived. Your image presented to him.

It wasn't his memory. He had no right to see you in your wedding dress. He did not have time. Tomorrow never came for the both of you.

This is your memory.

[quillandsaber]

It seems like I am fated to crawl back to Tumblr every time I play a new Final Fantasy game to wax poetic about my OTPs. This time it's Final Fantasy XVI and Warfield.

To me, there's an important unstated implication I haven't seen many people talk about in the fandom discourse: in medieval/Renaissance Europe (which was the cultural basis for Valisthea), the only reason a girl would be sent as a ward to a man she's not related to with no daughters would be if the intention was for her to eventually marry one of his sons, probably one a little older than she. Clive would have known this. Jill would have known this. Everyone would have known this. Anabella may not have liked it, but she would have known this. Clive and Jill's friendship would have formed with the underlying assumption that they were supposed to be husband and wife one day. While we as modern people tend to revolt at the idea of child betrothal as a matter of principle, we have to remember that, in a world where arranged (or at the very least approved/facilitated) marriage is likely the only option for most people, Clive and Jill would have probably thought they were pretty lucky that they knew and liked the person who they were going to spend the rest of their life with.

So now rewatch the cutscenes when they reunite after thirteen years apart; it's not just "my friend, who I thought was dead for thirteen years, is alive." It's "the only person I have ever thought of as a life partner, who I thought was dead for thirteen years, is alive." It makes complete sense why Jill's immediate response is "I'm going with you; we're facing this together" and why Clive doesn't argue. The fact that they're going to do things together is a foregone conclusion. They never have a "what exactly are we" talk because they don't have to.

This is the way it was supposed to be.

[bigboysfalldeep]

My secret would be getting captured during a walk or a cruise by being chloroformed, get blindfolded, get a headset up my ears with vocal reprogamming hynosis, so when we arriving at your place, your newly hunted fag is ready to be taken, Sir

Routines. The silliest routines are the easiest way for you to fall into a hunters trap.

For you, it was your daily walk through the park at the exact same time, walking the exact same way, and those routines, let anyone drop their guard.

It all happened so fast. You didnt even see your attacker at all. The only thing you felt was a wet cloth covering nearly your entire face. That burning, chemical smell invaded your nostrils, your lungs and finally, your brain. As you grew weaker, someone steadied you. Two big arms wrapped around your body, hugging you, lovingly almost.

You didnt feel pain, no stress, no fear. As your eyes grew heavy, and as you lost control of your limbs, you felt your mind drifting away.

But it was far from over.

When you came to your senses, you tried to open your eyes, but the darkness wouldnt subside. Indeed, you were blindfolded, and gagged. Tape was covering your mouth and part of your neck. Someone made sure you wouldnt get it off on your own.

To make things worse, your hands and ankles were tied together as well. So tight, infact, you felt so much pressure anytime you tried to move.

You couldnt see, couldnt talk, couldnt move. But you heard someone move all around you. By the smell of his cologne you assumed it was a man, a beefy man, just by the feeling of his arms around your chest earlier.

"Finally got you little one." A deep voice echoes through you, sending shivers down your spine. Now you were scared. What was he going to do to you?

"This will be fun." His oily voice ran down your back, making you shiver.

He then covered your ears with huge headphones, making it even harder for you to make out anything. Still, you tried to call for help, but the tape wouldnt let you even breathe properly. Muffled screams filled your mind, and then you realized when the engine roared to life, shaking your surroundings. You were sitting in a car, an old car to be precise.

Shaking heavily, you tried to wake up. This must be a bad dream right? Maybe a prank?

That all changed when the speakers turned alive, playing some weird, loud music. Its rhythm rushed through your body, and it reacted right away. Somehow, this music calmed you down. Maybe it was the soft bass, maybe the idyllic background noises. Anyway, your breathing slowed down quickly, and you felt more and more relaxed.

But there was something hidden underneath many layers, deep inside the music. Words, phrases, little commands. But the most important thing was obedience.

Be a good boy. Just relax. Its so easy, isnt it?

Its tiresome to fight, to revolt. Just let go.

You felt conflicted. Leaning in to these messages made you feel better, but something felt wrong. Your body, on the other hand, was willing to follow those commands.

Hard. Get hard. Even harder. Just listen. And get hard.

All of your muscles were bulging, growing bigger and bigger. So did your cock.

You felt it bulge inside your pants, as if trying to break free, break through the fabric barely able to contain it.

To make matters worse, you felt a huge hand on your thighs. The man was still here, watching, with growing desire himself. His giant hand grabbed your vibrating cock, and started to play with it.

It felt so good, even though, you didnt like it at first.

With the music still playing, those commands ringing through your head, your tried your best to fight back. But no mind could withstand that for too long.

You didnt even know for how long you were in this state. The man kept edging you on and on and on. But you were never able to cum. Something prevented you from getting that desired relief.

The tape on your mouth was already drenched by you drooling heavily. A huge wet spot covered your crotch. Precum, more and more precum. That was all that came out of your cock.

Until you couldnt take it anymore. It was easier to give in anyway.

You leaned your head back against the car seat, and as your eyes rolled back into your skull, you felt the tip of your cock finally shoot load after load. The man kept fondling your wet meat, as more and more cum spread all over your trousers.

With every drop, every twitch, every shot, you felt not only your balls draining, but your mind as well.

You didnt care anymore about the music, the tape, the blindfold. Cumming was all on your mind. Cumming and pleasing your master.

You were so far gone, you didnt even notice the man leading you into his house. Where he removed all your restrains. You didnt need them anymore after all.

He took of your jacket and shirt, but left your stained trousers untouched. The man inspected you closely, while you looked at him, with vacant, foggy eyes.

This was the mean who owned you. You need him. You need to obey him.

Be a good toy. Just obey

[boygina-philosopher]

OSHA violating bullshit

Feat. Spock/McCoy/Kirk

Meta: multiple shots, mlm,

Tags: oviposition, vibrator use, eggpreg, cum swallowing, alien deepthroat, sounding, absolutely egregious medical malpractice, if you don't like eggs coming out of the weiner maybe skip this one, facehugger-type alien, multiple orgasms, belly bulge, borderline body horror, parasitic aliens, pleasure dom McCoy, power sub Spock, Easter fic, parasitoidism, aftercare, still calling the hole a cunt lol, voyeurism/exhibitionism, OOC but nobodys reading this so who cares

The cavernous underbelly of the giant planet should have been the first sign that the day wasn't going to be normal. Thank God for that, if there ever was a god, which there can't be. A benevolent god would have reduced these creatures into a blasphemous memory.

Spock, ever the curious man, stepped forth beyond the stalagmites seeping from the ground to look closer into a duct in the rock. The mineral in the walls of the cave shimmered with chatoyancy, reflecting into the eye of Kirk, willing to walk closer to Spock to investigate whatever grabbed his infinitely focused attention.

In a hushed breathy tone, Spock addressed the captain. "In the crevice... There's something alive in there." He said, not taking a single look away from it. The rumble of his deep voice seemed to stir it awake, and it backed away.

The captain whispered,

"that shouldn't be-"

And as in uffish thought he stood, the creature lunges forth, grappling onto Spock's face as he attempted to wrestle it away, backed into the wall by the large thing, far too large for the small crack it leapt from.

Kirk can only act as fast as he can understand what is happening, with no one present to snap him into gear. Still, in only a millisecond it seems he grips the creature, pulling away from Spock to no avail, until he hears a disgusted, throaty sound.

Spock's sharp canines were bared as the creature's thick fleshy tendril slipped between his lips and deep into his mouth. Spock has nothing to emote, but immediate revolt against the tentacle prying his throat open. His eyes vaguely darted to the captain in a sliver of shock before a liquid gushed forth and his eyes were quickly squeezed shut. The bitter foreign liquid piped down the man's throat and down his gullet, never ending as it seemed, flowing forth at a rapid pace from the creature latched onto him.

Involuntary tears pricked Spock's eyelashes as he gagged around the appendage, whimpering trying to keep his esophagus closed. The cloudy liquid spilled from Spock's mouth and dropped down his strained neck, until Kirk tore the alien from his face. The alien's crab-like leg sliced into kirk's chest. The excess of strange liquid made the grip too slippery to keep up, and the alien was flung into a nearby wall, splattering goop all over the glittering rock. Kirk looked down at his first officer, coughing up a storm, brought to his knees and utterly exhausted. That's what this brief moment was. The eye of the hurricane.

Immediately after being beamed up, Spock collapsed and was caught in a hectic battle to carry the dense man to the sick bay. Dr. Leonard McCoy eventually got to him and, joined by Kirk, he hooked Spock up to his faster x ray machine.

"it shouldn't be normal for a Vulcan to pass out from exhaustion from something as simple as wrassling an alien. I don't suppose you still have said alien, Captain?"

"Ah, I'm afraid not, bones. It didn't seem like a priority when it was pumping toxins into our first officer."

"oh, bite me." McCoy retorted, flicking a steel switch, cracking on the image of Spock's organs. All where they should be, which is to say, where they should most definitely not be. No perforations, only the liquid traveling throughout Spock's body.

"maybe it had some sort of sedative properties..." McCoy muttered, feeling around on the bulging stomach. Before shooting Spock his adrenaline. He awoke to the feeling, In an admittedly unsettling manner, flicking his eyes open and staring at the doctor.

"I do not mean to alarm you, but it feels as if the material is growing."

Okay, well, that's probably not a good sign, now is it? And Spock was not wrong, as the liquid took a more gelatinous form inside his system. It clumped together, forming squishy beads.

"why, doctor, that looks like frogspawn."

"eggs..."

The alien was trying to use an unsuspecting Spock as an unconscious incubator, possibly even larva feed when the eggs hatched. parasitoidism, not uncommon within earth wasps, such as the jewel wasp. They needed to purge the body of steadily hardening, thick beady eggs until the moment they would tear through him. Near exactly what was conveyed to Spock.

He couldn't cut into Spock without risk, the eggs hardened to injured tissue, seen on kirk's chest, when the goop clung to the slice on his skin. An idea struck Leonard, but not without predetermined conflict.

"now Spock, we need to try something but you need to bear with me."

Spock's stomach bulged now, stiff and glistening with sweat, flushed. Kirk sat behind him, gently patting his shoulder like a proud father of two dozen parasitic alien eggs. If he had not already been dating his superior officer and doctor, he'd surely be ashamed of this horrifyingly wanton display.

"captain, you are surely needed in H.Q., I suggest that you leave my side and-"

"Spock I'd just about die on that chair knowing what's happening to you and knowing I didn't help."

Leonard had Spock sit up and lean back slightly, spreading his legs and presenting to the doctor.

"doctor, might I ask what you're doing?"

"you need to flush them out of your system. I'd understand if you don't want Kirk to be here for this part." McCoy announced, presenting Spock with a steel rod, a small bullet shaped... Machine, and lubricant. Spock's face flushed a stoic green and pursed his lips.

"i would not want to exclude the captain from such a groundbreaking discovery." Spock said, with utmost control.

Spock attempts to keep his legs open as McCoy presses the vibrator to his hardening cock, twitching and emanating heat with every stroke. Of course Kirk wanted to stay, Of course he did. Nothing embarrassing could ever stay between Spock and his doc.

"I think that's enough. This might hurt, so tell me if it's too deep." McCoy said, wiping lube across the sounding rod. He leaned downward between Spock's thighs, sighing gently onto Spock's sensitive cock, causing him to squirm. He pushed the rod into the tip, stretching him gently and stinging Spock with pleasure. He whimpered around the new sensation. Kirk furrowed his brow, bringing a hand to his heating face, red, with pupils blown out.

Spock tipped his head back and bit his lip as the rod pushed deeper.

"hold this, keep it up, okay?" McCoy pushed the vibrator towards Kirk, pushing the button to turn it on and gesturing towards Spock's cock. Kirk barely even registered his task before he pushed the toy onto the cock from behind the other man. Spock's demeanor unraveled and he moaned gently into the air.

Man, he really should stop getting into these situations. This is quite possibly the most illegal thing McCoy ever done on board, jerking off his superior officer and hard under the table. That man didn't even know how perverted he was, god, he's so fucking weird. That did not even begin to describe it. He pulled the sounding rod from the hole-

Spock gasped into a moan as an egg popped out from his tip. And another. Three eggs slipped from his cock, and Spock pulled his legs together. The vibrator buzzed around his cock, sliding up and down and sending waves of pleasure across his body.

"d-doctor, I think I'm going-ah!"

Another egg slid from his cock as an orgasm rocked his body, cumming hard onto McCoy's and Kirk's hand. His thighs trembled gently.

"ah...excuse me-I didn't-"

"that was the plan. That's how we purge them out. McCoy, you've done it again." Kirk announced, a crooked smile hiding the raging heat growing in his pants.

Spock looked up at the captain, eyes droopy and glazed over.

"this will hurt. It's best you try to withstand it, cuz it's working." McCoy assured, before plunging the rod back into Spock's cock. The Vulcan arched his back and whined, before he bit onto his hand to muffle the sounds of ecstasy. Kirk Drew his arm from his face and pulled it up.

"c'mon Spock, let me hear it." Kirk whispered into Spock's hot ear. He nibbles on the tip and Spock gasped.

McCoy should have known better. He really did expect Kirk to be into it, and yet he still let him stay. That's not to say it was shameful, it would be a crime not to get horned up at the masterpiece in front of them.

The pressure was unbearable, any single touch was enough to make Spock whelp, as the constant upkeep of sensation was momentarily unpredictable. He could feel them sliding inside him, replacing one another, eager for the opening the doctor made with the rod. They clacked dull against the inside of his cock. It was too much, too... Zing-y. The slow gape was the worst. For such small, quarter sized eggs they sure liked to take their time.

Eggs slipped one after another from Spock's throbbing, wet heat. It stretched him to the brink and brought him back just in time for the intense relief to make him cum again. It was too much, too sensitive. He came six times and reactionary tears unashamedly flowed from his face, slick with sweat and a deep green. He was not crying, but this sure was something. He could barely speak anymore, begging and moaning loud as Kirk pried his legs open for Leonard.

"ah, please- enough... Ah-!"

Spock's hips bucked forward and one last egg came loose from his poor, sobbing body. The x-ray was back to normal, as it seemed. He would almost miss that feeling. His body wracked with electric heat, trembling and spasming against his doctor's hands. He panted and gasped through the last egg, shoulders stroked and patted by his captain ever so gently.

McCoy stood up without thinking, immediately regretting his decision and turning to put away his things. Thank God they were in a private area, if not for the loud moaning, then for the cackle that came from Kirk as he notices the doctor's hard-on.

"I should have known that this was your forté. No one else would have suggested such a thing, especially-"

"ah shut yer yap, you're just about as hard as I am, if not worse, you deviant."

As things settled down, drowning in heartbeats and panting gasps, Spock was eased down onto the bed and massaged by rough hands.

"you did so good, Spock. You must be exhausted. We'll clean you up, get some rest."

Kirk wasn't wrong, he was on the verge of falling unconscious once more, and his head became clouded. Clear enough that Spock heard McCoy say he'd have his duties filled out as he "recovered."

Before he could be whisked into blissful sleep, Spock muttered:

"The egregious display of unprofessional treatment will be taken up with H.R."

"NO, no, this is not standard for me, what we just did was so, incredibly illegal. I wouldn't-"

Spock drifted off to sleep as McCoy raved and Kirk shut him up with a kiss and a hand under the shirt.

[felidrae]

Theory on Cesare’s redemption arc

Worthikids is a big fan of references & in Bigtop most notably it’s shown in the character Cesare.

If your unfamiliar he is based off the character Cesare, a hypnotized man who the Doctor (Dr. Caligari) claims to see the future, in “The Ballad of Dr. Caligari”. The silent horror film (made in Germany, 1920) is about two male friends Francis and Alen attending a Carnival where they encounter Dr. Caligari & his somnambulist Cesare. Alen asks the hypnosised man when he will die to which Cesare proclaims tomorrow, the next day Alen is found dead making Cesare the prime suspect & chaos ensues; It’s later revealed that Cesare doesn’t see the future but simply follows the orders of Dr.Caligari. The Zomburger Crew also have little Easter eggs regarding the film: Frances is Francis, Doctor is Alen(& his custome is a portray to Dr. Caligari) and Conrad is the name of Cesare’s actor Conrad Veidt.

Now you may ask, what does all this have to do with Cesare’s possible redemption? Interestingly enough if you look into the symbolism of the film it reveals hinted roots of Cesare’s character/story.

Cesare is arguably a solider, a nobody in a long line of nobody’s that’ll watch the World til the end of time & doesn’t question Upper Management as seen in “UP” (“I don’t control who they think is a menace”); When he is finished his position will be quickly replaced by someone else. His character arc, unlike his film counterpart, will be one where instead of mindlessly following orders he will revolt against his superiors.

However that now begs the question how will this happen?

Back to the Zomburger crew, their names having references to the film hints that they will also play a part in Cesare’s redemption arc. As I’ve stated before, Cesare has a hidden soft spot for the Zomburger crew, more so Doctor (Allen), though he denies it to even himself so there will be no strings attached & It’s already been shown that Doctor (Allen) is Cesare’s Morality Pet trope; unlike his film’s counterpart who is immediately killed off by film Cesare by the orders of Dr. Caligarli.

Cesare’s job is one where they watch over the Earth from “menaces” & presumably do not want them nor their mission to be known in the living public eye; now that 6 living humans know the existence of two SEPARATE entities as well as magic it’s not hard to consider that upper management wouldn’t be pleased keeping these loose ends alive. They are now menaces to the secrecy of the underground organization.

Prediction: Cesare will be ordered to cut off these loose ends himself or overhear someone else will do so; this will cause him to spiral into a moral crisis. He will realize he cannot follow/allow the order to go through & will most likely team up w/ Steve since his own crew will be in jeopardy also; freeing him from his cell.

This will correlate with how in the the film Cesare falls in love with Francis’s wife & is unable to follow through with his order to kill her- kidnapping her & running away until he’s too tired to run anymore.

[germiyahu]

One of the funnier things about Jesus is that he's often described as a "radical" and my classics professor literally said "it doesn't make sense for the Romans to execute him if he wasn't covertly calling for an overthrow of the government." I've spent most of my adult life hearing that Jesus was preaching zany dangerous world-upending ideas and he was just too badass and ~actually leftist the whole time~ to be left alive.

However, he was preaching "pray for your enemies, even if they persecute you," "if a Roman strikes you, turn your cheek and offer the other," "if a Roman soldier forces you to carry his equipment, offer to carry it an extra mile," "do not pray in public like those hypocritical Pharisees, pray in private God likes that better," "who are you to judge the Romans' specks in their eyes, you're actually worse if you think about it," "guys Caesar is the legitimate government of the Empire I think you should show the proper respect just pay your taxes," "hey I know I'm being executed but like let's take a moment to consider that the Roman soldiers feel bad about it, forgive them they know not what they do."

This is bootlicking shitlib cuckery if I've ever seen it. Jesus' philosophy for how Judea and its culture was going to survive Hellenization/Romanization was... "Be polite. Don't cause a scene. Keep your head down. Why be a rabble-rouser and make trouble for the rest of us? You're giving us a bad name. Romans are people too!"

He had some cool ideas like "sex workers deserve dignity," but I don't think he's actually the "role model," and "actually really wise Rabbi," that a lot of non Jews try to tell Jews he is (aka, how they should view him even if they don't think he's the son of God). And to be fair, a lot of his ideas were already held by other Pharisees/early Rabbis. Certainly Maimonides et al. would go on to independently come to some similar conclusions re: forgiveness and whatnot.

But Jesus was not a radical. Most scholars agree he was a member of the Hillel school of the Pharisee "political party." He was definitely not a Zealot. The Romans didn't execute him because he was calling for an overthrow of the government. They executed him because he was becoming too popular, and people were calling him Moshiach, which was an implicit threat to Roman supremacy. But Jesus himself was not telling people to firebomb their local valmartus.

I suspect if Jesus had been alive to see the Bar Kochba revolt, he would've "strongly condemned the violent actions of the rebels," even if he "sympathized with their pain." He was actively preaching, if not assimilationism, then meek submission. Martyrdom. If you suffer in silent dignity then your just reward will come. And I'm not claiming he was a race traitor or anything, this was an individual man's response to the ongoing trauma of his homeland being subjugated and exploited. These were his ideas about what to do about it.

But in essence, Jesus was the original Good Jew, and the Romans still murdered him. He spent all of his time as a public figure arguing that they should be accepted and loved and that their oppression of the Jews should be tolerated, and that one day the Romans would simply lose interest in being colonizers and the Jews would be free by being patient and understanding and not rocking the boat too much. And the Romans killed him anyway. Being a Good Jew will never save you.

[revoltpark]

open at your own risk warning this is long

this is just the whole fuckinf story

here’s the wattpad but I have it written below

Brace yourself, bear with me and yea.

So to start it off, Revolt park is a South Park au made to take place in 1848. The characters live in this kingdom named southshire, with a tyrant of a ruler. The king is Lucifer Thorn, royal by blood. His wife, Beatrice Thorn, died of some sort of disease but there were some rumors that she was a witch. And their son, Damien thorn.

Damien is often kept in the castle, far from the outsiders, kinda like rapunzel. He had never really met anyone is age, he mostly was around the two royal servants, Josh and Leslie. Well that was until one day, while he was out at the royal garden, he saw some poor underclass boy through the gates. Therefore how he met pip.

The revolution was another part of this little kingdom. Gregory, a upperclass boy, who had never really dealt with the unfairness of the classes. Had somehow started a revolution to take down the classes. He was a privileged boy, always or mostly got what he wanted yet he still did this revolution thing. Mark, a middleclass boy, being his right hand man. And Gregory’s younger brother by two years, Herbert, also decided to help. The revolution consisted of mostly teens and mostly boys. Barely any upperclass, some middleclass, and A LOT of underclass. Gregory’s sister, younger by one year, Estella, was somewhat apart of the revolution. She was a feminist, she wanted equal rights for ALL, especially women. Rebecca, marks sister, younger by a year and Wendy were also somewhat apart of the revolution, just to make sure it had feminism. 

Christophe, Kenny and pip are all underclass. Christophe works as a grave digger, pip at the bakery and Kenny as a newsboy. All somehow apart of the Revolution, mostly half-assed. Pip rarely shows up to the meetings. Yes, he wants equality, he is in the working class after all, but he just doesn’t seem to have interest for the meetings, especially since he met Damien. Kenny shows up every once in a while, he thinks the upperclass are rich snobs and he wants equality for the underclass, he also just hates Gregory. Christophe shows up to basically every meeting, for two reasons. He believes in the cause, throughout his skepticism. He just thinks Gregory’s ideas are a little too far fetched. But he also likes to go because Gregory’s basically eye candy to him. 

Lexus, cosette and dogpoo(DP) don’t really have a big role in the story, they’re friends with Christophe,Kenny and pip. Cosette who loves Christophe, Lexus who lusts for Christophe, and Dogpoo who often picks a fight for Christophe. The underclass was a cruel and dog eat dog place, filled with thieves and prostitutes and dying people, Lexus being a prostitute herself. Cosette was almost pressured into becoming one, but she still has some self respect. 

Anyhoo, back onto the royals. Josh and Leslie were originally underclasses, until beatrice(who was alive when she found them), saw potential in the two poor kids, brought them back to the castle. They’ve been there ever since, both intelligent and cruel. Josh, himself, also has a blonde underclass boyfriend, Trent. Nobody really knows about Josh and Trent though. 

The castle is most LITERALLY filled with magic, Whenever someone in the castle gets sick, they use magic to cure it. They only use the magic for their advantage, they never use it for the citizens. There are also, some cannibals. The castle life seems so unreal. Leslie,Josh and kinda the king are cannibals, it’s not like they eat eachother or anything. Whenever a underclass dies, or someone gets executed, they get brought to the castle and the chefs cook them. It’s seems as a normal thing to them. Damien on the other hand doesn’t like the taste of human flesh, he never thought of it as wrong due to how he was raised. He’s just a bit of a picky eater, plus they never even told Damien where they got the meat from until he was maybe 13.

Back to the revolutionaries, Estella and Rebecca were alone one night after hanging out with their friends. There happened to be some rogue guards. They at first started arguing with Estella, mainly because they were weirdos and wanted to get closer to her. They eventually realized she and Rebecca were apart of the Revolution. What sad night for feminism, Estella and Rebecca both got shot on the spot, due to the anger of the guard. Their parents were paid to keep quiet. That pissed mark and Gregory off even more.

A few months later, the royals had realized Kenny kept dying and just kept coming back alive, Leslie, decided to take the case. She managed to kidnap Kenny and brought him to her,,,dissection room? It was a room she used to dissect the dead people before they ate them, to make sure there wasn’t anything weird in their intestines. She was going to take some blood, well a lot of blood from Kenny, check it out, hopefully use it to help the castle. Well Gregory and Christophe found out about it. And they weren’t happy. They managed to do a little break in to the castle and went on the find Kenny. They found him already strapped down to the table, Leslie getting ready to do what she was gonna do until Gregory and Christophe stopped the whole thing. Gregory went on to unbound Kenny to the table while Christophe went to fight Leslie. Now Christophe and Gregory both brought a weapon of their choice, Gregory bringing his cutlass while Christophe brought his shovel, Gregory doubted him at first but he was FLABBERGASTED when he saw that Christophe had pierced the shovel right in Leslie stomach, ultimately killing her. The boys left the castle with Kenny having trauma and Gregory and Christophe growing a somehow stronger bond.

A few months after that, pip and Damien were basically dating. Since Lucifer was rarely in his child’s life, Damien often snuck pip into the castle. Those two were probably the luckiest out of all of them.

Sooner or later, one night, the revolutionaries decided to raid the castle. That turned out not so good. The revolutionaries were getting killed by the guards. Josh, being the maniac he is, decided to help the guards. Poor Herbert found himself cornered by Josh, and Josh, recognizing him as Herbert, the leader of the revolutions brother, decided to kill Herbert. Josh was overly cruel to the poor boy, Josh had pulled a dagger out on his and chased him around the castle until ultimately killing him, brutally. He left Herbert for a moment and noticed mark wasn’t to far, mark had witnessed the whole killing of Herbert and lucky mark, he was next. Josh spared him, simply slicing his neck and stabbing him somewhere in the abdomen. Josh had gotten shot a few times, decided that was enough and left the castle. 

Gregory had managed to sneak up to the kings study, finding him there, and shooting him right in the back of the head. Gregory hurried out of the study, he found Christophe and they both looked for a exit in the castle. Gregory had passed by a bunch of the dead revolutionaries bodies, a disgusting sight to say the least. He passed by mark and Herbert’s body and felt a horrible grief hit him immediately. Seeing his little brother and best friend dead really hurt him. Atleast he had Christophe, well barely before they made it to a exit, Josh who was exiting the castle, shot Christophe, THREE times, then made his way out. Gregory was absolutely devastated.  First his sisters death, then his brothers and best friends and his love. Christophe was alive for barely enough time, he died in Gregory’s arms and Gregory lost it. I guess you could compare it to Achilles reaction to patroclus’ death. Screaming, loud. Sobbing, pulling hair out, All that. Eventually, his impulsive self grabbed his cutlass, he had nothing else to really lose. without a second thought, he stabbed himself right through the chest. 

Well, during this whole thing. Damien had locked himself in his room. And pip had went to the castle to basically get Damien out. He managed to catch Damien from the window and went to the woods to hide. Afterwords it was a horrible sight to go back to the castle. Everyone’s dead, there’s no longer a king. Damien, being the prince, unfortunately had to fill in as king. Josh wasn’t even there to help out, turns out he straight up ran away from the kingdom with Trent.

Kenny and pip weren’t involved with the raiding of the castle, they decided to stay home. The only really three ones who made it out of the Revolution alive was Kenny,pip and Wendy. 

Years later, Damien and pip are the kings, living happily ever after ish. AND THEY HAVE KIDS DOMINIC AND CHARLIE YIPPEE. Only downside is that the ghosts of the revolution haunt the castle, Womp Womp. 

So that was revolt park explained in I guess the simplest way I could think of? Idk. But yea, I may or may rewrite it but that’s the whole story for now. 

[tatertotcosmonaut]

In light of the ask you send me a few days ago, I wanted to ask your opinion on takes like this I've been seeing around. Like people saying ch 261 is exceptionally revolting and dark, in particular for a shonen and compared to anything else we've seen in jjk. I mean it is revolting, it's supposed to be exactly that, it's a big change in Yuuta's character, but the pearl-clutching of some people seems a little too much in my opinion. They have their right to be disgusted by it, but I don't see this being such a no-go for shonen. For WSJ maybe, although they have Chainsaw Man under their wing. But for example in Attack on Titan the mc tries to commit genocide and Dai Dark has the mc skinning kids alive and selling corpses. It's not such a rare thing or as boundary breaking as they make it out to be. Sure, not every story does this, but generally most shonen magazines seem fine with it (I mean they did publish it). The "think of the children" attitude seems a bit much here, not to mention that WSJ like many other shonen magazines isn't just read by kids/teenagers.

Ah yeah I saw this thread on Twitter but I did not fully read it. If OP had stopped before that last tweet I would have just nodded my head and agreed (except for them saying “it crossed some lines”).

Challenging social taboos or purposefully taking advantage of social taboos (such as filial piety and the sacred nature of dead bodies) is something used a lot in manga, usually to show a lack of morality or moral degradation, a kind of “this is how this fictional society operates, it’s not a nice place.” Sukuna is an example of this, he’s full of behavior that, at the time of the Heian Era, were complete social taboos (and still are).

I went back and read the thread, I read the tweets they gave in example of how some in the Japanese side of the fandom are feeling about this chapter, and even some Japanese people have QRTed their thoughts. I can’t fault them for feeling that way, although a sense of sacredness over the dead isn’t as beat into us in the west, it is still very much a thing or superstition, especially in minority communities (I’m black creole, we have huge superstitions about treating the dead with respect so they don’t come back to haunt us or get revenge). But I feel like it’s still pearl clutching that is unnecessary- the disgust is very much the point.

I also feel like the “think of the children” thing is odd. Beyond just the examples you gave, shonen manga is rife with sexual jokes, pervert tropes, busty women, and graphic violence that would’ve made my mom probably ban manga from the house completely if she caught me reading it when I was in middle school lol (she actually did attempt to bar me from watching anime though). It’s just weird that after all the things JJK has depicted, THIS is the boundary that can’t be crossed.

Again, I don’t want to come off as some westerner telling others to “not be so offended”, I understand their feelings. But at the same time, the offense was the point.